Temper, Temper!

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Starsky makes a New Year’s resolution and finds something in his “new year” he isn’t even looking for.

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Ken Hutchinson knew it was going to be “one of those days.” His partner had just dashed into the squad room and slammed the glass door behind him so hard that it reverberated and everyone held their breath. It was the day after New Year’s and they’d come back on duty after actually having a three-day weekend, something unheard of for them. The precinct had been short-handed over the Christmas holidays due to a flu bug that had seemed to hit almost everyone, except them. They’d been pulling double shifts, working long hours at a time when all hell breaks loose in a big city like L.A., and Dobey was trying to make it up to his best detective team.

“What the hell’s got into you, Starsk?” Hutch stared at him as his friend yanked his chair out and threw himself down on it.

Starsky was just opening his mouth to reply, when Dobey’s office door opened and the big man appeared in the doorway.

“Starsky, get your ass in here!” he ordered.

“Whoa, baby, sounds like you’re in big trouble now. You want me to come with you and hold your hand?”

Starsky just glared at him and headed for the captain’s office. He entered and closed the door behind him.

“Okay, Starsky, I’ve put up with this since before Christmas, thinking you needed time off, but you’ve had four days to get your shit together and your temper is still out-of-control! What IS your problem?”

“Sorry, Cap’n, I just can’t seem to keep a lid on it. I don’t know what’s diggin’ at me.”

“Look, I know it’s only been seven months since the shooting and you just got back on desk duty a month ago, but you have to get control of this. We can’t have you going back on the streets with this kind of attitude. Maybe you need to see someone.”

“Jeez, Cap’n, not a shrink. Just give me a little more time to work things out in my head. I’ll get a handle on it, I promise.”

“You’d better deal with it, Starsky, or I will. Do you understand?”

“I understand, Cap’n.”

“Okay, now get the hell out of here and get some work done, and Starsky….”

“Yeah, Cap’n?”

“You break those windows, you’re going to be directing traffic downtown for awhile!”

“Yes, sir.”

He backed out of the office, shutting the door as gently as he could. He turned and found himself nose to nose with his partner.

“Traffic duty, huh, I know how much you like that. What was the crisis this morning, Starsk?”

“Kiss my…!”

“Temper, temper, buddy. You know, you need to make a New Year’s resolution to control that temper. I think I might be able to help you.”

“Yeah, how?”

“How about a little bet? A hundred bucks says you can’t keep from losin’ it for one week.”

“Uh, I don’t think so.”

“What’s the matter, Gordo, you don’t think you can do it?”

Starsky gritted his teeth. “Oh, I can do it, all right, but….”

“Then it’s a bet?’

“Okay, you got it!”

“How about we meet at Huggy’s tonight and seal the bargain with a drink?”

“The only thing is, you’re going to have to give me a ride over, ’cause the Torino wouldn’t start this morning. That’s what I was pissed about. I actually had to take a cab to work today. I called you, but you were already gone.”

“You should get up earlier, and you should have better taste in cars.”

Starsky bristled. “Right, I should get a rust-bucket like yours. Nice try, Hutchinson.”

“Hmmm?”

“You’re gonna do pretty much everything you can to get me to lose my temper, aren’t you?”

“Pretty much, partner.”

“Come on, Hutch, don’t you want to get back out in the streets with me?”

“Sure, you know I do, but right now you’re a loose cannon. I don’t want either of us out there until you’re ready and that means getting a rein on that disposition of yours. If I goad you enough, maybe you can learn to go with the flow.”

“That’s livin’ dangerously, Hutchinson.”

“Nothing I can’t handle, buddy.”

That night at Huggy’s was strange, even for them: Starsky doing his best to be very reserved, while with Hutch, it was all-out war. He did everything he could to irritate his partner. Even Huggy could see which way the wind was blowing and spent most of his time in the back room or the kitchen, waiting for an explosion that never came. Around seven o’clock, Hutch suggested they go back to his place to watch some T.V. and order pizza. Starsky was willing and they left.

Hutch had been drinking more than usual, while Starsky had been nursing his drinks. He knew his limitations and didn’t want to imbibe too much, because that was a sure way to lose sight of his goal. Lasting out the week and winning the hundred dollars was just the tip of the iceberg. He didn’t understand this strange discontent that had him in its grip since the Gunther case had wound down. It was like his whole life had suddenly skewed and he was left looking at everything from a different perspective. Hutch had taken time off from work to take care of him when he got out of the hospital. The blond had been so solicitous of his needs, he couldn’t have asked for anyone to treat him better. Since he’d returned to work, though, they hadn’t gotten along well. In fact, he’d been hurt that Hutch hadn’t spent any of the last three days with him, claiming that he’d had errands to run and dates to keep. Now, in light of a bet that Starsky had foolishly made, Hutch wanted to be his good buddy again.

By the time they got to Hutch’s place, he’d decided to go on home, but Hutch was in no condition to manage the stairs without help. As usual a forgiving soul, Starsky hoisted his friend out of the car, helped him up the steps and leaned him against the wall while he fumbled with his keys, trying to get the door unlocked. Turning back to his partner, he was startled to find himself in the other man’s arms with Hutch’s strong lips pressed against his, tongue knocking for admittance. Touched, but sure this was just another one of the man’s stunts to rattle him into losing his temper, he gave him a gentle push back against the wall. He was aghast to see a look of extreme vulnerability cross swiftly over the other detective’s face before it drew itself back into the patented Hutchinson expression of composure. Starsky grabbed him by the arm and pulled him into the apartment. Once inside, Hutch yanked his arm rather forcefully away from Starsky’s, toppling over onto the couch from the recoil. He was already snoring, so the smaller man settled his head on a pillow and removed his shoes. Then he covered him up and turned to leave. Remembering all the time Hutch had spent taking care of him in the last few months, though, Starsky didn’t feel right about leaving him alone in that condition. Sighing deeply, he used the bathroom, undressed down to tee-shirt and shorts and slipped into Hutch’s brass bed to wonder how his friend had gotten so drunk so fast. Within minutes, he was asleep, too.

He was dreaming he was with Terry. She was stroking and caressing him, rubbing herself up against him. Firm lips controlled his, exploring deep into his mouth, making him moan in pleasure. Hands that seemed to know just what to do to bring him to the edge of oblivion roved over the lean, angular planes of his body. He groaned as the kiss ended, only to feel fire shoot through his core as that mouth that had possessed his seconds ago, claimed his cock as its next victim. Knowing he should make some effort to return the pleasure, he was paralyzed in the dream, unable to do anything but lie there with his eyes closed and gasp for breath. His mind registered only that he’d never felt anything as exquisite as this before, as he exploded, actually seeing the much-touted fireworks before him and thinking briefly,

Starsky woke much later to find the covers strangling him like a huge boa constrictor. He tried to turn and found himself wrapped so tightly in Hutch’s big arms that he couldn’t move.

“Blondie, ease off me, babe, I gotta use the john fast and I can’t get loose. You’re gonna be sorry if you don’t let me go!”

Hutch moaned and relaxed his grip just enough for Starsky to break free and run for the bathroom. It was still early and by the time he came back and climbed into the bed, Hutch had rolled over and was facing the other way. he thought fondly. He piled the pillows up behind him and reclined there, feeling more sated than he had in a long time. Something was missing in his life lately. The dream of a home with a wife, kids and a Golden Retriever, something he’d always assumed he’d have someday, had receded with Terry’s death and faded far in the distance when Rosie had left him. He’d desperately tried to resurrect it with Kira and then, after the shooting, he’d put it out of his mind entirely. Now it loomed like a giant candle on the horizon, burnt down to a nub and about to flicker out, never to be lit again. Last night’s dream, while making him feel good, had also reminded him of having someone who you really love share your life and your bed, rather than a string of one-night-stands that brought no satisfaction. He wondered if Hutch still yearned for the American dream.

As if sensing the thoughts about him, the blond groaned and turned over in the bed, looking straight into the eyes of his bemused partner. Starsky was disarmed to see Hutch avert his eyes and a blush color his face.

“H-h-how do you f-feel this morning?”

“How do I feel? Fine, never better,” Starsky answered him truthfully. “How about you, got a headache? You really tied one on last night.” He got up and grabbed the aspirin from Hutch’s medicine cabinet, throwing the bottle to him and bringing him a glass of water. Hutch gratefully accepted the water and washed down three aspirin. Starsky noticed that Hutch kept looking at him as if searching for his reaction to something, but when nothing was forthcoming, Hutch bluntly asked him.

“S-So it was good for you?”

“Was what was good for me? Blintz, you’re talking in riddles this morning. Are you entirely sobered up yet?”

“What we did last night, was it as good for you as it was for me?”

The light bulb in Starsky’s brain turned on; the dream, the sex; it wasn’t a dream of Terry at all, it was his partner doing those things to him, his strong, virile male partner who’d tried to put a liplock on him last night.

“Jeezus, Hutch, that was you? I thought I was having a dream. What the hell did you do that for? Was I wearing a sign that said ‘this man is in danger of imploding if he doesn’t get laid?'”

Hutch cringed and his face went bright red. “I did it because I love you and I wanted to, and because I thought you might feel the same way, too! It wasn’t a pity-fuck, buddy!”

“I know you love me, Hutch, I love you, too. I always have, but you don’t have to do something like that. It’s–it’s demeaning.”

“Look, Starsky, I didn’t intend to ‘be demeaning to you,’ I drank way too much. Let’s just forget it happened, okay?”

“No, babe, you don’t understand, it’s demeaning to you to do something like that to me. I don’t want you to treat yourself with that kind of disrespect.”

“Just get dressed and get the hell out of here, Starsk. I don’t want to talk about it anymore. It was a mistake, okay? One that won’t be repeated! Let’s just chalk it up to a little too much beer and leave it at that.”

“Okay, okay,” Starsky began gathering up his clothes and putting them on, not really knowing what to say to Hutch. He felt very uncomfortable about the whole situation. Finding out that an experience he’d gotten so much enjoyment out of was something he’d never thought of doing, even in his dreams, was disconcerting. Evidently, he wasn’t getting dressed fast enough to suit his totally pissed off partner, because Hutch shoved him out into the hall, grabbed his shoes and socks and threw them after him, and then slammed the door.

Starsky didn’t even remember driving home, he was so engrossed in his thoughts. It was a totally alien thought to him, not something he was comfortable with, but he knew that Hutch was the most important person in his life. Now he’d hurt his partner and lost his trust. It was a confusing mess, one that he couldn’t afford to sit and spend time on right now. He was due at work soon and had to go home and get ready. He put the whole thing on the back burner for the time being and headed for his apartment.

Starsky arrived at work on time, only to find that his partner wasn’t there. He wasn’t surprised to find out that he’d called in sick. He was relieved that he wouldn’t have to sit across from the scrutiny of those sky-blue eyes that always knocked him out, yet he was worried about Hutch. He found himself wondering what the man was doing as the day wore on, and stifled the urge to call him several times. Their caseload was light and he had plenty of time to reflect on the last few months, their closeness and intimacy while Hutch had been taking care of him. He had to admit that the feelings of discontent he’d been having had started about the time he’d gotten well enough to be on his own and Hutch had moved back into his own apartment. He’d chalked it up to loneliness, but knew there was a hole in his heart that only Hutch could fill. Now he was beginning to wonder what illusive shape that gap took. He found himself at Hutch’s after work, ready to talk.

The LTD was there, but Hutch wasn’t. Starsky knew he frequented the beach and it was a beautiful night, so he went walking in that direction. He found Hutch, beer bottle in hand, staring out at the Pacific with an unreadable expression on his face.

Starsky dropped down next to him. “Hutch? Hey, babe, are you all right?”

“Do you really care, Starsk, I mean do you ‘really’ care?”

“Well, yeah, I love ya, you’re my partner, my best friend.”

“Does that ‘I love you’ always have to come with qualifications? Is it possible it could just stand alone for a minute?”

“What the heck does that mean?”

“Whenever you say it, it’s like ‘I’ve gotta love you, dummy, ’cause we’re friends, or partners, pals, buddies, whatever’, never just ‘I love you, Hutch.’ I never realized it before.”

“I do love you, you’re my…” Starsky caught himself and muttered “Oh, shit!”

“Yeah, it’s shit, all right. See, Starsky, all those months in the hospital, watching you, worrying about you, wondering if I was going to still have you in my life…then those months at home, taking care of you, doing all the intimate things for you that you needed done, being so close to you, I crossed the line of loving you. I fell in love with you. Love, as real and forever as it gets. Obviously you don’t feel the same way about me”

“Why didn’t you come and talk to me about all this, Hutch? We used to be able to talk about anything.”

“I tried a few times, but you always seemed so angry. Every time I tried to broach the subject, you flew into one of your fits and I backed off. I guess it just all came out the other night when I got tanked.”

“Where do we go from here, Blondie?”

Hutch sighed. “I don’t know, Starsk. I hope to hell we can still be partners, but I don’t know if that’s enough for me. I want what we had the other night; a home, someone warm in my bed, waking up next to you in the morning, every morning. I don’t want to settle for anything less.”

Starsky was silent for a few minutes. he chuckled wryly to himself.

“Can you give me some time to get my mind wrapped around this one, babe?”

He cringed at the look of abject hope that lit up his partner’s face at the words.

“It could be good for us, Starsk, it really could. I’d make it be good.” Realizing he was begging, Hutch slipped back into that control-mode he always adopted when he felt like he was losing it. “Can you tell me something, Starsk?”

“If you don’t make it anything too hard, Blintz. My mind is on overload right now.”

“I know you lost a big chunk of your life and, God knows, you have a right to be mad about that. But I’ve never known you to be like this before. Moody as hell, but you’re off the Richter scale. Are you having some pain you haven’t told anyone about?”

“Oh, God, Hutch, nothing like that. I should have known that would be your first thought. You’re responsible for me being in the shape I am physically right now.”

Hutch grinned.

“Dammit, Hutchinson, get over yourself! You know that’s not what I was talking about.”

“It was good for you, though, babe, admit it. I took you higher than you’ve been in a long time.”

“I feel like I’m being pressured here, Hutch, lay off!”

“Okay, sorry, back to what you were saying about your mood swings.”

“Mood swings! You make me sound like I’ve got menopause or something. I said nothing about mood swings, buddy.”

“Well, what is your problem then? No, wait, let me tell you. You can see it all going down the drain, can’t you? All the things you thought you wanted all those years, and you just don’t know what to replace it with. You feel lost and afraid you’re going to end up alone. You’re scared to go back out on the streets, for fear you can’t cut it, then you’re afraid you can do it, but might get shot again and end up back at square one. How am I doing, partner?”

“Jeezus, Hutch, you been reading my tea leaves?”

“No, babe, I just went through the same thing while you were lying in that hospital room, trying so hard to get well. I watched you fighting and admired your courage. I saw you in therapy and respected your bravery and I realized that there was no one in the world like you. I fell head over fucking heels, Starsk, before I knew what was happening to me. You’re all I want in my life now.”

“Quit saying things like that, Hutch, it makes it hard for me to think. I gotta be able to understand what I’m feeling here. Are you doing okay? I’m going home now.”

“I’m okay, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

The next day, Starsky was quiet and subdued. The usual amount of banter ensued between the two detectives, but nothing brought the tension they were under to a head. Dobey seemed pleased to think that everything was under control in his squad room, not realizing there were still unresolved issues that ran deep between the two of them..

The week went by quietly and the weekend finally came around again. Starsky was no closer to knowing what to think of the new events in his life than he had been a few days ago. He had barricaded himself in his apartment over the weekend, just thinking things over and Hutch had respected that and left him alone. In truth, he was lonely and would have welcomed the diversion, but the phone didn’t ring. Sunday, he decided to go out to The Pits in the evening to shoot the breeze with Huggy.

Walking in, he first spotted Hutch, who was deep in conversation with Marcy Craig, one of the policewomen in their precinct. A thick red haze descended on him. He fought his way through it and tried to remember why it seemed so familiar. Then it all came back to him. This was what he felt when he and Hutch had fought over Kira. The angry jealous rage didn’t make sense. He had no interest in Marcy. He and Hutch often vied for the same woman, just for competition’s sake, but Marcy wasn’t his type. He’d never felt attracted to her. The only answer hit him and it shocked the socks off him. It wasn’t Marcy he was jealous of, it was Hutch! Thinking back, he remembered the way it was with him when Kira came between them, too. He was doing everything he could to keep Kira away from Hutch and Hutch was doing the same. This thing had been there between them even then, but they just didn’t recognize it.

He turned to leave, but Huggy had seen him and motioned for him to come over to the bar. Hutch turned and looked at him, but seeing the angry red flush on his face, opted to leave him alone for a few minutes.

“My man Starsky,” Huggy greeted him and placed a beer in front of him. “What it is?”

“”Fuck if I know, Huggy, but I’m going to find out!” The dark-haired man strutted over to the booth where his partner was ensconced with the lovely little brunette and slipped into the seat next to Hutch.

“Hey, partner,” he forced a smile, while slipping his hand up the man’s thigh into his groin under the table. Hutch jumped and turned shocked eyes in his direction. “Officer Craig.” Starsky nodded his head in acknowledgement.

“Starsky, we were thinking about ordering something to eat. You want to join us?”

“I wouldn’t dream of horning in on anything, Hutch, I just came in for a beer and now I’m going home. Couldn’t just leave without saying hello to my partner.” He felt Hutch’s erection straining in his tight jeans and took some grim satisfaction in his discomfort, even though he knew “Officer” Craig would probably be reaping the benefits.

He started to get up, and then realized he’d outwitted himself. He was wearing an equally impressive rod that his even tighter jeans outlined like it was lit up in neon. He settled back down and mumbled something incoherent about changing his mind. Hutch glanced over and recognizing his predicament, let out a nasty chuckle.

“Are you sure you’re ‘up’ for Huggy’s food tonight, buddy? The last night we ate here had you gasping for breath, remember?

It was a real ‘over the top’ experience. Hey, Marcy and I just happened to meet here and were discussing one of her cases. If you don’t want to eat here, maybe we could all go over to my place, order a pizza and brainstorm.”

“Not me, boys, I’ve got a date later on tonight. Some other time, maybe.” Marcy slipped out of the booth and was gone, leaving the two detectives staring at each other.

“Okay, that’s it!” Hutch pushed his partner ahead of him out of the booth. “You want to play games, we’re going to my place and play games. I’ve waited long enough for you to come to your senses!”

Starsky let himself be propelled out of The Pits and crammed into Hutch’s car for the ride to the apartment. He made some token protest about his car, but Hutch didn’t speak to him. Once they got to the blond’s place, he was rudely pulled out of the LTD and yanked up the stairs by one very pissed-off homicide detective.

Once inside, he was pushed down on the couch and found Hutch’s index finger in his face.

“Now, what was that little exhibition all about? I swear, Starsk, you’re pushing me over the edge here. You don’t want anything to do with me, then all of a sudden, you show up in a public place, plop your ass down next to me like you’ve got squatter’s rights or something and start messing with stuff you’re not even supposed to be interested in. I’m not a toy. You’re playing with fire here and I don’t think you can handle it.”

“You want me to believe you were there discussing police business with “Officer” Craig? You’ve been after her since she first came into the precinct.”

“That was two years ago, Starsky, two whole years. I haven’t even spoken to her except for ‘Hi’ and ‘Bye’ for the last…Oh, I know where this is going. You, my friend, are jealous. You don’t want me, but you don’t want anybody else to have me. Is that it? You know, you can protect yourself all you want, making believe you thought it was all a dream, therefore you couldn’t help yourself, but how do you explain what happened to you tonight at Huggy’s, the erection you got just by touching me, your male partner? How can you protect yourself against this, Starsk?” Hutch’s hands were moving on his body, spreading fire wherever they went. “Or this? Or this?” Then there was the sensation of Hutch’s mustache against his mouth and he felt the strong lips pulling at him, the aggressive tongue forcing its way into his mouth and he grabbed the blond by the hair and fought for supremacy with his own tongue.

They pursued each other all over the small apartment, battling for mastery of the situation. Buttons popped and clothes flew and ultimately they arrived in the bedroom, naked, aroused and ready for action. Starsky could no longer argue the feelings that were there and he knew it. What’s more, Hutch knew it, too, he always had known, he had just been waiting for his stubborn partner to wise up. Now, at long last, Hutch had the man where he wanted him, helpless and writhing in his arms. He worshipped the body under him with his lips and drew the pleasure out for both of them until they were trembling and gasping for air.

Some time later, they lay wrapped in one another’s arms, spent, sated and happy to be together.

“I love you, Hutch. How did you know it could be like this?”

“Brains of the outfit, remember?”

“You’re not so smart, I haven’t lost my temper all week, you know. You’re gonna lose a hundred bucks.”

Hutch looked at Starsky’s watch and started to get up.

“Well, I’d better call Simmons and Babcock then.”

“What the hell do Simmons and Babcock have to do with it?”

Hutch started to back away from the bed.

“Uh, I made a bet with them that you wouldn’t last the week.”

“You did what? Why, you sneaky, slimy mean-spirited little…!”

“Temper, temper, Starsk, you still have an hour to go and you’re losing it. You’d better cool it if you want to win that bet. You touch me and you loose, babe.”

“That’s what you think, buddy. Earlier, I set my watch forward an hour. You’re livin’ on borrowed time.” Starsky started to come up off the bed.

“Oh, shit! Starsky? ST-A-R-SKY!!”

THE END