A special thanks to my beta reader, Donna Engle.

 

This story was written for entertainment purposes only and in no way intended to infringe upon the rights of the owners, the actors, or the writers of Starsky & Hutch.

 

 

SMILE FOR THE CAMERA

 

 

By TibbieB

4/18/01

 

 

Chapter 1

 

Starsky threw the Torino in gear and pulled out into the flow of traffic, his face grim with anger. Hutch dared a sideways glance at his partner, hoping Starsky wouldn’t see the smile beginning to crinkle the corners of his eyes.  Fortunately, Sam, whose canine face perpetually wore a look of amusement, chose that exact moment to pop his big head over the back seat, creating a diversion until Hutch could get his urge to laugh out loud under control.

 

“I don’t wanna hear it,” Starsky warned.  Sam’s eyes darted back and forth between the two men, reading their moods and body language.  Tense…

 

“I wasn’t going to say anything.”  The silence was uneasy, as Hutch bit back the words, ‘I told you so’.  Sam, unsure of the reason for Starsky’s bad mood, sensed now might not be a good time to try and join them in the front seat.  He backed off, instead, planting his butt on the back seat and quietly waited for the tension to pass.

 

“What ever happened to professional courtesy?  Huh?  I mean, we are both cops,” Starsky complained.

 

Hutch considered his words carefully, realizing whatever he said wasn’t going to set well with his partner.  Perhaps honesty was the best policy.  “If you hadn’t been speeding, he wouldn’t have stopped us.”

 

“I was on police business.”

 

“Oh, give me a break, Starsk.  I don’t see how you can call our going to pick up a pizza, ‘police business’.”  Hutch peered over the top of his sunglasses, waiting for Starsky’s predictable nonsensical response.

 

“Well, we have to eat, don’t we?  We’ll be on duty in an hour.  I don’t think it’s too much to ask that we should have some dinner before loggin’ in.”

 

Having recognized the word  ‘eat’, the eager dog decided to rejoin the discussion.  This time, he inched over closer to Hutch, though.  At the moment, the blond seemed to be more approachable than Starsky.

 

A wry smile played upon Hutch’s lips, as he reached up and leisurely scratched Sam under the chin.  “That’s a pretty big stretch, pal.  Besides, the speeding ticket isn’t the issue here.  What you’re really in trouble about is, driving without a license.  Better hope Dobey doesn’t hear about it.”

 

“I’ve got a license.  It’s just expired a little,” Starsky retorted.

 

“A little?  How does a driver’s license expire ‘a little’?  That makes about as much sense as saying a woman’s ‘a little pregnant’.  Starsk, you were supposed to get it renewed last month—before your birthday!”  No longer able to hold back, Hutch blurted out, “I told you to get your driver’s license renewed, but you never did it.  So you don’t have anyone to blame but yourself.” 

 

Starsky whizzed in and out among the cars, skillfully dodging fenders and bumpers as he went.  “I hate it when you say that.”

 

“Say what?”  Hutch feigned a look of innocence.

 

“You know what… ‘I told you so’.  You ain’t exactly torn up about this, are ya?”  Starsky cut his eyes toward Hutch and gave him an ‘I dare you to deny it’ look.

 

In an effort to disguise an impending smile, Hutch licked his lips.  He failed miserably.  “Not really,” he confessed.  Infinitely glad to see someone smile, Sam snaked out his big tongue and gave Hutch’s left cheek a good washing.

 

“Okay, smart-guy.  We’ll go right now.”  Starsky did a 180 turn around, causing cars behind, and on either side, to screech on their brakes, in an attempt to get out of his way.  Sam careened across the back seat, hanging on for dear life with both front paws.  Despite this desperate endeavor, he still collided with Starsky’s shoulder before losing his grip and sliding down onto the back floorboard.

 

“Starsky!  Look out, will ya!”  Hutch clung to the dashboard like a drowning man to a lifesaver.  “If you have an accident while driving with an expired license, they’ll throw your butt in jail!”

 

“Don’t get your shorts in a wad, okay?  I’m drivin’, not you.  My license may be expired, but that doesn’t mean I can’t still drive circles around you.”  Just then, he realized Sam’s face had disappeared from his rear view mirror.

 

“Sam?”  Starsky’s eyes shot worriedly from left to right, covering the whole back seat via the rear view mirror. He’d become downright attached to the big lug.  What if he’d flown out the back window when Starsky was doing that tricky maneuver?  “Hutch, where’s Sam?”

 

Hutch leaned over the back of the seat and made instant eye contact with Sam, who for reasons of self-preservation, was cowering in the floorboard.  He decided it was as good a place as any to wait for whatever storm had Starsky riled up, to pass. 

 

 “He’s on the floorboard.  You scared the crap out of him!” Hutch hoped this realization would shame Starsky into slowing down.

 

“Sam?  Sam, come on up, boy,” Starsky coaxed, hanging his right arm over the back of the seat, groping for the big dog’s head to give it a pat.

 

Cautiously, the black and rust-brown noggin began to rise.  First, only coal-black brows, then two huge, worried, chocolate-drop eyes.  Soon, his whole head eased up and rested on Starsky’s shoulder, nuzzling against his cheek.

 

Despite his bad humor, Starsky couldn’t resist smiling.  “Sorry ‘bout that, Big Dog.”  He scratched the dog’s flopped-over ear with his right hand while continuing to maneuver the Torino with his left.  Something about this enormous, innocent critter always got through to the tough cop, bringing out his soft side…the one that few living beings had witnessed, aside from Hutch—and now, Sam.

 

Starsky slowed the car down as they approached the driver’s license office, then whipped into the parking lot and took the first available slot.  Deciding it was safe to surface all the way, Sam climbed out of his hiding place.  The big dog reclaimed his throne on the back seat and eagerly waited to be told he could join them on whatever mission they had in mind.

 

“You comin’?” Starsky asked Hutch, as he opened the door and hopped out of the car.

 

“You can’t get your license in thirty minutes.  We’ll be late for work.  And we’ve got that briefing with Dobey and the Commissioner on the Connors case.”

 

“How long can it take to get my picture taken and fill out a little card, huh?”  He rounded the front of the Ford, and opened Hutch’s door. “Come on, Blintz.  You’re wasting valuable time whinin’.  I’m tellin’ ya—piece ‘o cake.  In and out.  You’ll see.”

 

Reluctantly, Hutch stepped out of the car while Starsky rolled down the windows for Sam.  When Starsky closed the door, Sam visibly drooped, disappointed this would be a ‘stay and wait’ stop.  Then Starsky reached into his pocket and dug out a large milkbone, slipping it to Sam as a peace offering.  He bent his head through the window and spoke softly to the dog.

 

“Be a good boy and wait here, okay?  Somebody’s got’a keep an eye on the Tomato, and as I see it, you’re the best man for the job.”  Sam licked him on the hand before accepting the biscuit, then settled down on the seat to enjoy his snack.

 

Hutch followed Starsky up the sidewalk to the State Department of Motor Vehicle Building.  As soon as he opened the door, they were met by a long line of people, most wearing dour expressions, impatient from having stood in line too long. 

 

“This is hopeless, Starsk.  Let’s go.  You can come back tomorrow, after our shift is over.”

 

“Now wait a minute, will ya?  I can get up to the counter.  You won’t have to wait long.” 

“What are you—?“

 

Before Hutch could finish his question, Starsky had bypassed the line, and confidently swaggered up to the counter.  Wearing what he perceived as his most appealing smile, he took out his badge and presented it to a perky little clerk with wide, expressive eyes, and a friendly smile that prominently featured a wide gap between her two front teeth.  Never to be undone by such details, Starsky poured on the charm all the heavier.  The clerk was overtly flattered by the attention of someone with Starsky’s dark, good looks.

 

“May I help you?”  Her voice was soft, and more than a little nervous.

 

Starsky tried to inconspicuously read the plastic, engraved name badge pinned cockeyed on the pocket of her plain, brown uniform shirt.  “Well…uh…Debbie, I’m sure you can,” he began.  Leaning on the counter, his weight on one elbow, he looked down at the homely little face.  “You see, I’ve got a little problem.  I have to renew my license, and I’m gonna be late for an important meeting.  Police business, you know.”  He smiled again, dazzling the impressionable young woman even more. 

 

“What’s the problem here?”

 

The clerk seemed to physically shrink before Starsky’s eyes, as a grim looking, granite-faced woman came up behind her.  The broad-shouldered woman wore her drab, gray hair pulled back severely from her face, drawing attention to a dark, ‘larger than life’ mole in the crevices beside her left eye.   Her uniform was starched stiff, every crease in place.  The name badge, emblazoned with the moniker ‘Henrietta Bernstein, Supervisor’, was—unlike Debbie’s—straight enough to calibrate a carpenter’s level by.

 

“This…this…gentleman…I mean…officer…” Debbie stuttered, and teetered back and forth on first her right, then her left foot.

 

Starsky smiled at the formidable looking woman, redirecting his charm.  “I was just tellin’ the young lady here, I have a police emergency, and I need to get my license renewed.”  He tossed a smug look over his shoulder at his partner before continuing.

 

Hutch’s eyes rolled back in his head as he watched Starsky embark on “The Impossible Dream”—friendly, red-tape free, service from a civil servant.

 

Snatching Starsky’s badge from his hands, the imposing woman squinted through the thick bifocals perched on the end of her nose, and examined it with the scrutiny one might give a rare artifact.  Then, unexpectedly, she slapped it down on the counter and shoved it back toward him.

 

“You’ll have to wait your turn, Officer…Starsky,” she announced with an authoritative tone, loud enough for the rest of the customers to hear.

 

His smile diminished only slightly, as he decided to try another approach.  “Starsky…Detective Starsky,” he corrected.  “I don’t think you understand.  Ya see, I’ve got this important meeting with the Police Commissioner and my Cap’n in thirty minutes; and my license,” he held the laminated card up before her as he talked, “is a little expired.”  Starsky leaned forward and lowered his voice, conspiratorially. “And…well…I got a ticket on my way to work, and I can’t report in ‘til I take care of it.”  He hoped to appeal to her more understanding side, as he offered his most engaging smile.  After all, they both worked in law enforcement.

 

“No, I don’t think YOU understand.  You shouldn’t have let it expire in the first place.  Pretty irresponsible for a hotshot detective, if you ask me.”  With that, she yanked the driver’s license from his hand.  “I’ll have to keep this, for now.”

 

Starsky’s mouth dropped open, speechless for once, as he stared in horror at the indomitable woman who now had possession of his driver’s license.

 

“Now get in line with everybody else, buster!  We don’t play favorites around here.”

 

Once he recovered his voice, Starsky blurted out,  “Hey!  Wait a minute! What do think you’re doin’?”

 

“This license is no longer valid.  I’m impounding it.”   She glared back at him defiantly.

 

Realizing his error, the dark-haired detective said a little more kindly, “Look, let’s be reasonable, hmmm?  How am I supposed to get to work?  You wouldn’t really wanna get me into trouble with my Cap’n, would ya?”

 

“That’s not my problem, Officer Starky.  I suggest you get in line now, and maybe, just maybe, you’ll still have time to make it.”  With that, she marched back to her own station.

 

Starsky pointed his finger at her and fumed, “Come back here! Give my license back!”

 

Ignoring his outburst, she loudly announced, “NEXT!”

 

The timid little clerk looked up at him meekly.  “Sorry…”

 

Defeated for the moment, Starsky left the counter and headed toward the end of the line, where Hutch had so wisely held his place.  However, he walked right past his partner, signaling with the jerk of his head for Hutch to follow.

 

Hutch was silent until they neared the Torino.  He looked over at his partner’s sullen, red face.  Not sure if Starsky was angry, or just embarrassed, Hutch reluctantly asked,  “So, are we leaving?  What’s the deal?  And what was all the shouting about?”

 

“That…that…oversized, army tank, took my license!  She just took it!”

 

“What?”  Hutch had watched the exchange from a distance, but hadn’t realized she’d actually taken Starsky’s license.

 

“I’m tellin’ ya, she just took it and kept it!” 

 

Spotting them from the car window, Sam began his seat dance, hoping to speed up their journey back to where he faithfully stood guard over the Striped Tomato.

 

“So, what next?”  Hutch picked up his pace to keep in step with Starsky, whose agitated gate widened with each stride.

 

“I guess I come back after our shift.  Hopefully, Herr Commandant won’t be here!”  They reached the car and came to a halt beside the window where the dog stood wagging his tail deliriously, and contemplating a headstand, if necessary, to get their attention.

 

Hutch’s lips twitched, as he extended his hand to Starsky, palm up.

 

The other’s brow arched quizzically.  “What?”

 

“Give me the keys.”

 

“No way,” came the adamant refusal.

 

“Be reasonable, Starsk.  We have ten minutes to make a twenty minute drive, if we have any chance at all of getting to our meeting on time.”

 

“I don’t see how you can get us there any faster than I can.  I mean, what’s the difference who’s drivin’?”

 

“The difference, my friend, is that if I get stopped for speeding, I get a ticket.  You get stopped for speeding—twice in the same day, and without a driver’s license, they’ll haul you off to jail.”

 

Starsky snorted disgustedly and slapped the keys into Hutch’s palm.  He rounded the front of the Torino and went to the passenger’s side.  Never one to be choosy when it came time to greet one of his humans, Sam bounded to that side of the car and jutted his oversized forepaws out the window, his tail beating a tattoo on the seat while he waited.  First come, first served, was his motto.

 

Even in his present, sorry mood, Starsky didn’t have the heart to scold the affectionate beast.  “Hey, boy.  Jump in back.”  Starsky patted the Rottie’s head, then waited for Sam to evacuate the seat before opening the car door.

 

Hutch slid in behind the steering wheel, dropped his shades over his eyes, and started the ignition.  He chanced a glance at Starsky’s profile and, as expected, saw he was none too pleased about relinquishing his keys.  Hutch knew he was just asking for it, but couldn’t resist razzing Starsky a little.  He stomped the gas pedal, revving the engine, watching the tach shoot up into the red zone.

 

“Hey, watch it, will ya!”  Starsky scowled. 

 

“Oh, sorry…” Hutch said, with little conviction, as he floored it again.

 

“Knock it off!  This is a delicate piece of machinery here.  Ya got’a show a little respect.”

 

Sam’s head popped over the back seat just in time to give Starsky a big, juicy, unwelcome, kiss.  Hutch laughed at the serious frown on Starsky’s face as he tried to fend off the dog’s affectionate overtures.

 

“Sorry, Starsk.  I was just having a little fun with you, buddy.”  He put the car in reverse and carefully backed out of the parking place.

 

“Well, your idea of fun and mine apparently ain’t the same, Blintz.  Cause I fail to see anything funny about abusin’ a fine automobile like this.”  Like a pouting child, Starsky sat with arms crossed defiantly across his chest, and tried to ignore the oversized dog’s head resting affectionately on his shoulder.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


Chapter Two


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