Title: Unslashable


Author: Elizabeth Helena


Series: Starsky & Hutch


Rating: PG-13 or T, due to very naughty language, and because a very naughty sex act is mentioned, but thank goodness, not performed.


Codes: Written from a gen perspective, but not only is slash implied, it is the central theme of this vignette. If even the threat of slash makes you run for the hills, I advise you to lace up your Adidas runners right now.


Warning: Threats of character death and hot man-on-man sex are made, but I'm just a big tease.


Spoilers: Other than your appetite? While this story is not set at a specific time, my muse tends to assume that season three is everyone's favourite too, so anything before season four may be spoiled.


Disclaimer: If I owned Starsky and Hutch, I wouldn't have to hurt them so much. Oh, who am I kidding, if I owned them they'd be naked and serving me breakfast in bed, after which I'd hurt them just as much. But at least I'd be happier. :-)


Summary: PDP (Plot? Depraved Plot!). Inspired by one of my least favourite of plot devices, and the recent discussions on the "Me & Thee" group regarding `unslashable' characters from a variety of TV shows.


Dedicated to: CC, the "Me & Thee" list mom, for making an old-time S & H fan, but newbie S & H writer, feel very welcome.


Further thanks to: Flamingo because I used a wonderful title of hers within this fic, and completely without her permission as I thought it was a canon line until RC told me otherwise. I'm sure you'll recognize it when it comes by. ;-)


Betas: Adrienne, who helped make Hutch much sneakier, and Rebelcat, because if she doesn't laugh when reading this story, I'm not posting it online. But no pressure, babe. :-)


Feedback/Critique: Other than assertions that they should be naked and serving you breakfast in bed, all feedback and critiques are very welcome. I can be reached trying to washing my muse's mouth out with soap at elizabeth loves her thesaurus @ hotmail.com (no spaces) or on the "Me & Thee" list (no soapy scenes).


Archiving: I'm not sure who'll extend a welcome mat to this bit of depravity. Hopefully my website will, because if I reject myself, I'll hurt my feelings:


http://www.memory prime.de/elizabethhelena



"Now, now, my good man. This is no time for making enemies."

A dying Voltaire's answer to a priest's advice that he renounce Satan








"Okay, pigs, here's the deal. If you fuck each other, we'll let you live."


Starsky ignored the gasp from the man beside him, keeping his focus on the strung-out leader of the heavily-armed flakes holding them hostage. Even without the illumination provided by the headlights of the four cars surrounding the two cops, Jake the Snake's gold lamé shirt and white leopard print jacket would've been hard to miss. Plus the twelve inch upside down cross he wore, which Starsky suspected said more about the questionable size of the man's snake than it did about his dubious religious beliefs.


"Wanna run that by me again?"


"You heard me, pig! You ran us out of the porn flicks business, so you owe us a free blue movie."


One of Jake's former porn stars giggled as he made a very rude gesture with his gun, and the fairer-haired cop tensed. Starsky silently signaled for him to stand down, or more accurately, to remain sitting down beside him in the cold mud of the ravine.


At least, they weren't cuffed together, Starsky thought, trying to count his blessings on what was turning out to be an unbelievably screwed-up night. Plus, the young and scantily-clad woman who'd disarmed him was kind of cute for a Satanist. Starsky hoped that the one-time owner of "Hot & Horny Hippies Films (Ltd.)," part-time cult leader, and three-time loser for the distribution of Angel Dust would consider a change in casting.


"C'mon Jake--."


"Gone deaf, pig? You two give us the money shot, or my boys and girls here will make their very own snuff film starring the both of you."


Starsky took a deep breath, grateful that for a change he was being allowed to take the lead. "Gonna have to kill us then."




That didn't last long, Starsky mused, but kept his eyes on Jake the Snake. "Unless you mean the other kind of fucking him over, 'cause shit, we do that all the time. But if you mean my all beef sausage's got to rub against his, then no way."


A pale hand clutched at his jean-covered thigh. "St-Starsky, they're going to kill us if we don't!"


"I'd rather die." His chin set with firm resolution, as he moved his leg out of reach.


"Well, I wouldn't!"


Jake appeared unsettled by Starsky's attitude. "So, the big macho piggy would rather die than be called a faggot, huh?"


Starsky bristled. "Ain't got nothing to do with fag-- and don't call them that!"


"What should I call them, macho man?"


"Hell, I don't know, but that word ain't nice." Ever since the revelation about John Blaine, he'd tried to be more respectful, but it wasn't like he wanted to research the subject either. Still, he was pretty sure queers wasn't any more polite than faggots, but homos didn't sound so great either.


Starsky glanced over at his bedraggled companion. "What the hell do they like to be called, anyway?"


"How the hell should I know?!"


"You know what? You're fuckin' useless!" Starsky released a disgusted breath, trying to rein in his temper around these trigger-happy weirdoes. "Hutch would've known. 'Course, if he was here, I might not have to die."




"I'm not saying Hutch and me get it on a whole lot or nothin'... but I'd consider it. Just to save our lives, you understand."


"But you won't ...."


"A man's gotta have standards." Starsky declared, glad that this argument was entertaining their kidnappers enough to delay their death before pornographic dishonour.


"So, because you hate me, we're going to die?"


Much more of this puling, Starsky mused, and he might just welcome a bullet in the brain. "No, Simonetti, it's 'cause I don't do bestiality that we're gonna die."


"Detective Starsky, I will --!"


"What? Take away my badge after they kill us?" Starsky rolled his eyes. He'd predicted disaster the moment Internal Affairs had butted its nose into their case, and sure enough, Simonetti's meddling had caused this bust to go south in record time.


Deciding that if they got out of this alive, his ass was grass with Internal Affairs anyway, Starsky addressed the Satan-worshipping, drug-dealing, and porn-making gang. "Hey, if you're gonna kill me first, can ya do me the favour of gagging this joker beforehand? Don't want his whining to be the last thing I hear."


An ear-splitting blast caused Starsky to duck his head, as Simonetti crumpled into the mud.


"Freeze, police!"


Starsky grinned at the sound of his partner's voice. Raising his head, he saw Hutch pushing his way through the stunned Satanic porn stars, his Magnum still raised from giving the warning shot. Starsky's smile grew wider at the welcome sight of the uniforms that had been brought along as backup.


"Took you long enough, partner." He complained, knowing it was expected.


Hutch lowered his gun. "Sorry about that, but it took a while to convince everyone to rescue Simonetti as well as you."


Still cowering in the mud, the IA officer glared up at Hutch.


Unimpressed, Hutch extended his free hand to help his partner rise to his feet. "Are you okay?"


"Yeah, they were too strung out to do any real damage, just pushed us around a lot."


Starsky watched the uniforms disarm and drag away his would-be killers. His grin faded, as the night's events caught up with him. "Oh man, I don't know what Jake mixed into his latest batch of Dust, but you won't believe what those flakes wanted us to do."


Hutch re-holstered his Magnum. "I heard."


Starsky felt the blood rush from his face. He risked glancing at his partner, but the man's expression yielded no clue as to how much he'd overheard. Instead, the look in Hutch's eyes only told him to play along and not dispute the claim.


Uneasy, Starsky nodded. He then turned towards the IA officer, and gave him a less than gentle kick. "Hey, Simonetti, you can quit sniveling, and get up now."


Simonetti rose to his feet, breathing hard. "Detective Sergeant Starsky, I'm going to ensure that you lose your badge over this."


Before Starsky could react, Hutch stepped between them. His index finger stabbed Simonetti in the chest, forcing him to step back. "Try that stunt, and I'll ensure that the recording of your cowardly performance tonight is sent to every cop in Bay City, including your boss."


Simonetti's jaw dropped.


"And you'd better hurry up and catch up with the black and whites," Hutch added. "Your partner was delayed at the station, and we're sure as hell not going to give you a ride back."


Simonetti's mouth opened and closed several times, before clamping shut into a pained scowl. However, he took Hutch's advice, and scuttled off after the uniforms.


Brushing at the drying mud on his jeans, Starsky asked, "So, how long do you suppose it'll take him to figure out I wasn't wired?" Now that he knew that Hutch had only said he'd overheard them in order to freak out Simonetti, he could begin to relax.


Hutch shrugged, and began to lead the way to his car. "With his paranoia, it's difficult to say."


"It's not paranoia if everyone actually hates you."


"Good point." Hutch glanced back. "Are you sure you're okay?"


"Yeah, I'm good." Starsky's heart skipped a beat as he remembered where they'd been when Jake the Snake and his merry band of porn stars had got the drop on them. "Hey, is the Torino okay?"


"Don't worry, the tomato's fine." They'd reached the LTD, but Hutch turned back towards his partner rather than getting in. His sudden grin caused Starsky's stomach to drop.


"So, Starsk, I never knew you felt that way about me."


Starsky cursed himself up one side and down the other. What the hell had he been thinking when he'd made that admission to Simonetti? "C'mon Hutch, I was distracting the bad guys, I knew you and the cavalry were sneaking up on them."


"Uh huh." Hutch licked his lips. "So, partner, do you want to save my life tonight?"


Starsky's hands curled into fists. "Hutch, I've just had a less than fun evening with Simonetti and a bunch of deranged loonies. D'you really think this is a good time to push your luck with me?"


"So, there is a chance I could get lucky then?"


"Knock it off, Hutchinson, right now."


"Ah, Starsk, I love it when you get all masterful with me."


"Yeah? You gonna love it when I plow ya one?" As his partner began to laugh, Starsky felt himself turning a brighter red than his candy-apple baby. "I meant hit ya, Hutch! Hit ya!"


It took a minute before Hutch could catch his breath. "Rough stuff, Starsk? Sure, I'm up for it if you are."


"No, partner," Starsky's voice became a low growl, "by the time I'm through with you, I'm damn sure you won't be getting anything up for a long time."


Starsky lunged, just as Hutch finally demonstrated the brains he'd always claimed to have by running for it.




Dobey frowned as the two mud-splattered detectives arrived twenty minutes after everyone else had returned from the scene. The captain was about to demand an explanation, when he noticed that Hutchinson was walking funny.


That, along with the huge grin on Starsky's face, convinced Dobey that he really didn't want to know.



- end -