Blood and Trust

Published in the SHarecon 2004 zine.

The slam of the front door reverberated through the apartment, the echoes of the men’s latest fight having died away moments earlier. That’s one way to end an argument, Starsky thought sadly. The anger that had driven him earlier was starting to drain away to be replaced by fear at the knowledge of what they had done to each other.

This was the second night in a row they had argued over this- the investigation into the murder of an eight-year-old girl being the first really nasty case they’d had to deal with since they had become lovers almost a month ago. Twenty-seven days, he thought, twenty-seven of the most joyful, emotional, and exhausting days of his life. One short month as lovers, a few nights of anger, and a relationship that had endured for thirteen years might be over. This time the fight had literally driven his partner from his bed, and quite possibly out of his life altogether.

Both men had known at the start what they were risking but also what they stood to gain. Although they had made no explicit promises, making love together had been the last step in a partnership that had long ago become as permanent as any marriage. Starsky had not dated anyone else since before the shooting that almost claimed his life nearly two years ago and had not wanted anyone for far longer. It was impossible for him to imagine being without Hutch when they had spent so many years building a life together.

But this case, one of the worst kinds as involved the death of a child, was threatening to destroy everything they had built. They’d been assigned to it for nearly a week now and unable to leave it behind when the workday was over, they had fought bitterly the past two nights. Starsky was convinced that the girl’s stepfather was responsible while Hutch was sure it was her father. He’d also not yet completely ruled out Laura’s mother. Both sides of the family were blaming the other and nothing was conclusive as of yet. The only thing that seemed certain was that no one but the police seemed to care that Laura Quantrill was dead.

The complexity of trying to figure out how to handle being everything to each other had changed the way in which they worked. Early on they treaded almost gingerly around each other, but the tension had finally reached the breaking point. Starsky wasn’t sure who started it this time… wasn’t even sure that it mattered. They’d spent hours tearing down each other’s theories and work ethic, stupid things they never would have said had they not been so angry and confused.

“If you’d look at what was right in front of you instead of insisting on spinning out some kind of fairy tale, you’d realize I’m right, ” Hutch accused. “Why do you keep insisting on ignoring the neighbor’s testimony? She saw Laura’s mother at the house that night.”

“Yeah, and she also can’t see two feet without her glasses and it was dark. That usually happens at night, you know. Her ‘testimony’ ain’t evidence, it’s hearsay. There’s a damn big difference. And you oughta know that, Mr. Two Years of Law School,” Starsky fired back.

“Well at least I can put a coherent chain of events together. You’re so fixated on your theory that you aren’t even thinking about this logically. Not that you’re very good at that on the best of days.”

And on and on it went. The accusations on both sides had been sarcastic and biting. While he hadn’t changed his opinion that the girl’s father was responsible, he did regret his words and the way that he’d said them. This case was agonizing and they were both taking it out on the most convenient target. Knowing each other so intimately on so many levels left them vulnerable- they knew exactly what to say and how to say it to draw blood. They could wound each other more deeply than anyone else could and the power they had over each other was astounding. Starsky hated to think of the destruction they could cause if they deliberately set out to hurt each other. The damage they inflicted without intention was painful enough.

In the midst of their argument, Hutch had grabbed his clothes, hurriedly dressed and rushed out, slamming the front door behind him with enough force to shake the walls.

He didn’t know what he would do if Hutch asked for a new partner or if they tried to pretend tonight had never happened. Or even worse, if they tried to act as if the past four weeks hadn’t happened. The ache in his chest grew as he thought about it, dreading the next day. It didn’t take him long to realize that it couldn’t wait until morning, that they couldn’t take the chance. The longer it festered, the worse it would get, until it reached a point where they could no longer fix it.

They’d been here once before, had allowed the bond between them to weaken, almost losing it all in the fiasco over Kira before they had pulled back from the edge and finally found their way back to each other again.

They had to figure out some way to solve this, which meant he had to get to Hutch. Once the decision was made he moved quickly, mirroring his partner’s actions of earlier as he dressed in his discarded clothing from the day before. He grabbed his wallet, keys, and holster and headed for the door with the same sense of urgency as his partner had earlier, although his mission was one of reconciliation rather than of escape.

He crossed the dimly lit living room and was just reaching to open the door when he heard the low voice from across the room ask, “Where are you going?”

Startled, he spun around and took in the form huddled in the corner of the couch. “Looking for you.”

Surprised and relieved at the fact that Hutch had not left after all, he covered the distance between them quickly. Unsure of what to do, he simply stood next to where his partner sat curled in the corner of the couch. “I thought you took off,” he said as neutrally as he could, trying desperately not to reveal his anger or his fear even though he knew didn’t have much of a chance of hiding either from his partner.

There was a long period of uncertain and uncomfortable silence.

“I almost did,” Hutch answered at last.

He still hadn’t moved from the end of the couch, sitting up with his arms wrapped around his knees. The position made him look much smaller than his six foot plus height and his body carried an aura of defeat. But the sense of loss in his voice was what did Starsky in and he stepped closer. Although he wanted nothing more to climb on the sofa and take Hutch in his arms, too much remained unresolved between them.

He settled for perching on the coffee table, near Hutch but not touching him. It wasn’t enough, it wasn’t them. There had never been a time when they were afraid to touch. It was the way they communicated best, even when nothing else was working between them.

But not tonight.

“So why didn’t you?” His words were just as soft as Hutch’s. It was a slow and tentative conversation, extremely uncharacteristic of them in light of the deep bond they shared but better by far than the shouting matches of earlier. Anything was better than that hell.

“I had the door open, had my keys out… ” a pause and then “I was going to do it, just walk out and leave. And then I realized I couldn’t.”

Another pause. “We’ve fought a million times Starsk, and some of them have been intense but most of them have been short. Can you ever remember a time when we went home for the day mad at each other?”

Tentatively Starsky reached over and was relieved with Hutch stretched out his right hand to meet his. The both found it easier to look down than at each other and so they stared at their joined hands. But the words kept coming and this time it was Starsky’s turn.

“Once, twice maybe. But we never made it the whole night without one of us calling the other and us goin’ back over it all to hash it out.”

It was never said, but it was a truth they lived with every day. There was always the chance that one of them might not come home. Because of that truth it was too dangerous to leave anything hanging between them. Even now, although their work was tamer and involved more far interviewing and far less chasing than in the past, they still couldn’t take the chance.

And a month ago the stakes had gotten even higher.

Starsky looked up to find Hutch gazing at him but he couldn’t quite read his expression.

“That’s why I couldn’t leave. If I did, it would be giving up on you. On us. But I couldn’t go back in there and face you either.”

He unfolded his long legs and swung around on the couch so he was facing the coffee table. The movement brought him closer to Starsky and he took that as a good sign. But Hutch’s next words sent a shock of fear though him.

“We can’t keep doing this.” Hutch was not angry, but spoke quietly, almost as if he were resigned to inevitable failure. The pain of being shot had nothing on the overwhelming anguish that swamped Starsky at the thought that Hutch was right and it might really be over.

Although he did not want to hear the words, he had to ask, “Stop doing what?”

“Either we figure out how to stop hurting each other like this, or we split up.” The response sounded matter of fact but he knew the idea was tearing Hutch apart just as much as it was him. Hutch didn’t elaborate on what he meant by “split up” but his hand tightened around Starsky’s as he said the last.

“Hutch…” he begin, and trailed off at a complete loss for what to say. This was one of the most important conversations of his life and he couldn’t find the right words. And they were still too far apart.

Maybe if they could bridge the physical distance between them, they’d have a chance at fixing the rest.

“There enough room on that couch for me?” he finally asked in a shaky voice. He knew perfectly well that there was; they had both stretched out there hundreds of times wrapped up in each others’ arms watching TV, sleeping, or pursuing other activities. Notwithstanding the fact that it was his couch, Starsky still felt the need to ask permission. This was a fragile peace at best and he would not shatter it by assuming anything.

“Of course.” Hutch sat up to make room. Starsky settled next to him and both turned at the same time to face each other. This time Hutch reached out a hand and Starsky took it. “Much better.”

“Yeah.”

Both still sounded a little shy. It felt so strange to be hesitant with this man who was more important to him than anyone else in the world, but it was because the other was so very important that they were both treading carefully.

“Our work is so intertwined with the rest of our lives, always has been I think. We have to be real careful here, Starsk. I’d say leave it at the front door altogether but that’s not realistic. It would never work. But we gotta keep it out of our bedroom.”
Starsky nodded in agreement. “It ain’t gonna be easy. Then again, nothing good ever is, but we knew that going in.” The fact that they both wanted to keep trying gave him a glimmer of hope.

Without realizing it they inched closer to each other as they talked until Starsky found himself half laying on Hutch with his head resting on his lover’s chest and both of his arms securely looped around his partner, holding him close. It felt wonderful, until he sensed tension in the body underneath his. He lifted his head to look at his lover and saw the sadness in the light blue eyes.

“What’s wrong?” Starsky’s voice was concerned but didn’t hold the fear it had earlier.

He saw Hutch swallow hard before he said, “I’m sorry about all of it, but especially the crack about you’re not being able to think logically. You’re one of the smartest guys I know. You see things differently and then figure out how to put it all together. You deserve to be on the force more than anyone … you worked so damned hard to get back and pass all the tests. It’s not fair of me to try and take that away from you. You’re the strongest man that I know, smarter than I ever give you credit for.”

“You were right in a way.” Starsky smiled. “Only reason I got this far was because of you. Couldn’t leave you alone out there, who knows what kind of trouble you’d get into?” he responded, teasing gently.

He sobered and continued, “I’m sorry for the lawyer crack. That was low. ‘M glad you didn’t stick with it.” His neck was starting to hurt from craning to look up, so he laid it back on Hutch’s chest and continued, “Much better as a cop, and my partner.”

“We’re gonna keep it that way, buddy, I promise.” He heard the sincerity in Hutch’s voice and answered with his own vow, “Me and thee, still and always.”

The strong arms tightened around him again and he returned the embrace even as he shifted around so he could meet Hutch’s mouth. He needed the kiss badly. The taste of Hutch’s mouth was the taste of home. It felt right to be intertwined like this and to reaffirm their commitment to each other.

After a while they settled back down on the couch in each others’ arms. This time, the silence between them was comfortable.

Eventually Hutch spoke, sounding more confident then he had all evening, “Okay, we have to figure out some ground rules here. If we can’t keep work out of our home lives, and we know we can’t, we have to at least contain it somehow.”

“Kitchen? ” Starsky asked.

“Yeah, or we might need to spread out papers and stuff on the dining room table sometimes. But not the living room,” Hutch announced.

“And not the bedroom,” Starsky declared firmly.

“Absolutely not there!” A short pause and then Starsky laughed when Hutch reminded him, ” You know, I’ve had you on your dining room table.”

“Yeah, and I’ve sucked you off in both our kitchens, what’s your point?”

“I seem to remember returning the favor. Just wanted to remind you that work isn’t the only thing I had in mind for those rooms.”

“I was planning on eating, you know. You kinda need access to the kitchen for that.”

“Somehow that doesn’t come as a complete surprise to me.” Hutch laughed softly as he rubbed his partner’s stomach. The gentle joke was enough to finally ease the last of the ache Starsky had been carrying for so long. If they could laugh together, if they could stay on the same wavelength, then they’d be all right for a long time to come.

“So, rehashing the day a little, complaining about work, general stuff is okay,” Hutch suggested.

“Has to be, like you said, it’s all tangled up together,” Starsky agreed.

“But any real work … ”

“Kitchen or dining room.” Both laughed as they said the last in unison.

“Right. Come on, Blondie.” He stood up and offered his hand.

“What? Where we going?”

“Kitchen. Now, come on,” Starsky insisted.

“Why? Do you have any idea what …”

“I know, it’s after four in the morning, come on, this won’t take long. But I got an idea and it is work related and if we’re going to do this, we’re going to do it right. So come and sit down in the kitchen with me.”

Hutch let Starsky lever him up off the couch and pulled his partner in close for a kiss before allowing himself to be led into the other room. “Have a seat,” Starsky offered, gesturing to a chair as he pulled up the one opposite, plopping down with an energy that belied the late hour and the draining effects of their recent emotional roller coaster ride. “You want anything?”

“Nah. So what’s this great idea of yours?” Hutch asked tiredly but without rancor.

“Well, I think it might be her stepfather and you’re looking at the other side of the family,” he said gently, not wanting to start another argument. But he had a suggestion that might just solve their impasse.

“Yeah, that’s what started this whole mess. I don’t want to argue Starsk, but I haven’t changed my mind on that.”

“Me neither, but trust me on this, okay. What if tomorrow… today, ” he amended quickly, “we switch?”

“Huh?” Hutch sounded confused but he caught on fast. “Oh, you interview James Quantrill and I’ll have a little chat with Richard Erickson.” It warmed Starsky’s heart to see his partner pick up right where he’d left off and he smiled. “Exactly, it’ll give us a different view on things.”

“Maybe more objective too, for both of us, “Hutch agreed and smiled back. “Now can we go back to bed.”

“Only if you’re coming with me.” It wasn’t a question.

“Always.”

Honey and the Moon is the direct sequel.