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crack_van2008-03-01 01:49 pm
lauramcewan.livejournal.com) wrote in crack_van2008-03-01 01:49 pm
Entry tags:
Now and Then, by Ancasta (PG-13)
Hello! I'm ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
lauramcewan, and I'm driving the Van for Starsky and Hutch this month. (Don't tell Starsky or he might try to take the van in to Merle's for some...um...refurbishing.)
This fandom is very vintage but most certainly not dead. With the release of the DVDs a few years ago, new folks found interest and I am happy to say I found myself a part of that new interest. I'm so in love with the boys, I feel like I'm twelve in 1980 and watching them in reruns all over again. On we go!
Fandom: STARSKY AND HUTCH
Pairing: Starsky/Hutch
Author on LJ:ancastar
Author Website: Ancasta's Corner
Why this must be read:
I'll blush and say this story was written for me during last year's Secret Santa exchange, and I'm quite happy to rec this as Ancasta is a new writer to the SH fandom, and this is her first S/H story. Don't let that dissuade you! She's only new to the fandom and her writing style is full of light and air, carrying you right along from one concept to the next without noticing any speedbumps along the way. Smooth.
It's set post-Sweet Revenge and Ancasta provides insight into the leftover angst from the seeming deterioration of their friendship prior to Starsky's shooting, and angst about their changing lives after such a harrowing event. Hutch is changing himself for the better while Starsky notices that perhaps, he's changed, too. And the love -- oh, the love.
Of course, once Starsky had gotten shot, it had seemed as if Hutch had been unable to look away. Starsky had lost entire days of his recovery to the drugs that had made his healing possible. His friends had tried to fill in the blanks where they could, Huggy and Dobey tattling on behavior Hutch had been unwilling to confess on his own. Through them, Starsky had learned of his partner's lengthy vigils, the way the man would often haunt his hospital room like an exhausted, heartbroken ghost.
Starsky had a memory of one such visit. Or maybe it wasn't a memory. Maybe it was only a dream. He couldn't be sure and, because of that, had never confronted Hutch with what he thought he knew. Whatever it had been had taken place early in his convalescence, during the days when he would drift in and out of consciousness, like the tide washing a beach, though his periods of wakefulness weren't anywhere near as regular.
During one such stretch, Starsky had thought he could sense his partner in the room with him, close by. He hadn't opened his eyes. He couldn't just then. But his other senses had seemed to be working pretty well. He could hear the machines monitoring his progress, beeping and swooshing from arm's length away. He could feel the over-starched hospital linens, crisp against his skin, and cool. And he could smell Hutch's aftershave. Starsky could never remember the brand, but he had recognized the woodsy, clean scent so familiar to him. The one that always reminded him of pine forests and the kind of blue sky that could hurt a guy's eyes to look at, as bright and clear and open as it was.
Starsky felt that same way sometimes when he looked into Hutch's sky colored eyes.
Starsk.
Starsky had lain there, unmoving, listening to the low intimate rumble of Hutch's voice. He thought the words had been spoken softly, right near his ear, stirring the hair there so it had danced against his temple. But maybe that had been an illusion. Maybe the voice had only been inside his head.
Hey, buddy. It's me. I can't stick around long. I'm still in trouble with that nurse of yours. She ratted me out to the rest of the staff and now they're threatening to escort me out if I overstay my welcome.
But what do you care, huh? You're sleeping like a baby. That's all right, though. That's good. It's not that I want you to wake up. It's just...I needed to see you again before I headed home. Make sure you were really doing okay now.
And I wanted to tell you something that couldn't wait, something you need to know. We got him, Starsk. Gunther. I just got back from San Francisco, and he's headed to jail for a really long time. He can't hurt you anymore. He can't hurt either of us ever again.
So don't worry, okay? It's over. Everything is taken care of. Just...rest. And get better. And know...just...know I've got it covered. Your apartment, your mom, the bills, all that departmental paperwork mumbo-jumbo. I'm even getting the tomato fixed up again, good as new. So all you have to focus on is you. That other stuff—-it doesn't matter.
And I mean that. You know? The stuff with us and the job, and...everything. We'll figure it out when you're feeling better. And whatever you want, Starsk...whatever, I'll make it happen. You'll see.
I know it's not going to be easy for you, babe. You've got a lot of hard work, and sweat and pain waiting for you. I know that. But I promise you, you'll never have reason to regret coming back, and you'll never, ever have to face any of it alone. I swear, by everything I know to be holy, I'll be the best friend I know how to be. For you. I'll give you my very best, Starsk. I just...I hope it's enough.
Starsky thought Hutch might have touched him then, laid his hand on Starsky's head, pressed his lips there. But Starsky had never opened his eyes to be sure.
The next morning, as soon as visitors' hours had officially gotten underway, Hutch had been at Starsky's door, just like usual. Tired looking, but so damned happy. Starsky remembered thinking, it's like he's got the sun shining out of him, straight from his pores, up through the ends of his hair.
Now and Then
lauramcewan, and I'm driving the Van for Starsky and Hutch this month. (Don't tell Starsky or he might try to take the van in to Merle's for some...um...refurbishing.) This fandom is very vintage but most certainly not dead. With the release of the DVDs a few years ago, new folks found interest and I am happy to say I found myself a part of that new interest. I'm so in love with the boys, I feel like I'm twelve in 1980 and watching them in reruns all over again. On we go!
Fandom: STARSKY AND HUTCH
Pairing: Starsky/Hutch
Author on LJ:
ancastarAuthor Website: Ancasta's Corner
Why this must be read:
I'll blush and say this story was written for me during last year's Secret Santa exchange, and I'm quite happy to rec this as Ancasta is a new writer to the SH fandom, and this is her first S/H story. Don't let that dissuade you! She's only new to the fandom and her writing style is full of light and air, carrying you right along from one concept to the next without noticing any speedbumps along the way. Smooth.
It's set post-Sweet Revenge and Ancasta provides insight into the leftover angst from the seeming deterioration of their friendship prior to Starsky's shooting, and angst about their changing lives after such a harrowing event. Hutch is changing himself for the better while Starsky notices that perhaps, he's changed, too. And the love -- oh, the love.
Of course, once Starsky had gotten shot, it had seemed as if Hutch had been unable to look away. Starsky had lost entire days of his recovery to the drugs that had made his healing possible. His friends had tried to fill in the blanks where they could, Huggy and Dobey tattling on behavior Hutch had been unwilling to confess on his own. Through them, Starsky had learned of his partner's lengthy vigils, the way the man would often haunt his hospital room like an exhausted, heartbroken ghost.
Starsky had a memory of one such visit. Or maybe it wasn't a memory. Maybe it was only a dream. He couldn't be sure and, because of that, had never confronted Hutch with what he thought he knew. Whatever it had been had taken place early in his convalescence, during the days when he would drift in and out of consciousness, like the tide washing a beach, though his periods of wakefulness weren't anywhere near as regular.
During one such stretch, Starsky had thought he could sense his partner in the room with him, close by. He hadn't opened his eyes. He couldn't just then. But his other senses had seemed to be working pretty well. He could hear the machines monitoring his progress, beeping and swooshing from arm's length away. He could feel the over-starched hospital linens, crisp against his skin, and cool. And he could smell Hutch's aftershave. Starsky could never remember the brand, but he had recognized the woodsy, clean scent so familiar to him. The one that always reminded him of pine forests and the kind of blue sky that could hurt a guy's eyes to look at, as bright and clear and open as it was.
Starsky felt that same way sometimes when he looked into Hutch's sky colored eyes.
Starsk.
Starsky had lain there, unmoving, listening to the low intimate rumble of Hutch's voice. He thought the words had been spoken softly, right near his ear, stirring the hair there so it had danced against his temple. But maybe that had been an illusion. Maybe the voice had only been inside his head.
Hey, buddy. It's me. I can't stick around long. I'm still in trouble with that nurse of yours. She ratted me out to the rest of the staff and now they're threatening to escort me out if I overstay my welcome.
But what do you care, huh? You're sleeping like a baby. That's all right, though. That's good. It's not that I want you to wake up. It's just...I needed to see you again before I headed home. Make sure you were really doing okay now.
And I wanted to tell you something that couldn't wait, something you need to know. We got him, Starsk. Gunther. I just got back from San Francisco, and he's headed to jail for a really long time. He can't hurt you anymore. He can't hurt either of us ever again.
So don't worry, okay? It's over. Everything is taken care of. Just...rest. And get better. And know...just...know I've got it covered. Your apartment, your mom, the bills, all that departmental paperwork mumbo-jumbo. I'm even getting the tomato fixed up again, good as new. So all you have to focus on is you. That other stuff—-it doesn't matter.
And I mean that. You know? The stuff with us and the job, and...everything. We'll figure it out when you're feeling better. And whatever you want, Starsk...whatever, I'll make it happen. You'll see.
I know it's not going to be easy for you, babe. You've got a lot of hard work, and sweat and pain waiting for you. I know that. But I promise you, you'll never have reason to regret coming back, and you'll never, ever have to face any of it alone. I swear, by everything I know to be holy, I'll be the best friend I know how to be. For you. I'll give you my very best, Starsk. I just...I hope it's enough.
Starsky thought Hutch might have touched him then, laid his hand on Starsky's head, pressed his lips there. But Starsky had never opened his eyes to be sure.
The next morning, as soon as visitors' hours had officially gotten underway, Hutch had been at Starsky's door, just like usual. Tired looking, but so damned happy. Starsky remembered thinking, it's like he's got the sun shining out of him, straight from his pores, up through the ends of his hair.
Now and Then