Victoria’s Secret

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Starsky is less than impressed with their new undercover assignment, but Hutch is more concerned that his feelings towards his partner are slowly changing.

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Epilogue.

France – Spring, 1999

Hutch squinted into the sunshine, smiling as he sipped his coffee. It was a perfect day. Not too hot, slight breeze and just the right amount of people milling around to make sitting in the street-cafe interesting. He sighed. The cloudless sky highlighted the intricate roof of Notre Dame, the light sparkling through the gaps.

Inhaling the bitter aroma of roast coffee, a faint smile tickled at his lips as the sunshine melted his eyelids closed.

“Excuse-moi?”

Hutch jumped slightly and focused on a dark-haired woman standing beside his table. She held a small child by the hand.

He put his cup down and cleared his throat. He hauled out his French 101 vocab.

“Oui, Madam?”

The woman didn’t reply for a moment, merely stared, nibbling her bottom lip.

Too well-dressed for a beggar – Hutch wondered if she was going to ask him to take a photograph of her and the child in front of the cathedral. He was about to ask if that was what she wanted, when the woman laughed nervously, her hand fluttering up.

“I’m really sorry to bother you…” she began in English, much to Hutch’s surprise.

“Yes?” He assumed his badly accented French had given him away.

“But I hope you don’t mind if I ask you something.”

Hutch inclined his head. “I don’t expect so,” he said with a smile. Much too young for you, old man, he scolded, hearing the charm in his own voice.

“Um…” The woman laughed nervously again. “I know this sounds crazy-” she began, then hesitated.

There was an almost mid-Atlantic twang in her voice, he thought. He glanced down at the woman’s body, checking for the bulge of a weapon under her light jacket.

He smiled faintly at himself. Old habits died hard.

Hutch’s lifted an eyebrow. “I won’t bite,” he said, amused at her reticence.

The woman laughed more confidently. “Maybe not, but I wouldn’t trust you with a handful of ice cubes!”

Hutch frowned, puzzled at the non-sequitur.

“I’m sorry, how rude of me.” The woman held out a hand. “My name is Mariette LeCrousier.”

Hutch took the offered hand carefully and shook it. “Hello,” he said, deliberately not offering his name. Old habits, old habits.

The woman laughed again, shaking her head. “But you didn’t know me by that name, did you?”

Hutch’s other eyebrow joined its mate high on his forehead. He was certain he didn’t know this woman by any name. “Look, I’m sorry but…”

“What am I thinking?” She slapped a hand to her forehead. “How stupid of me!”

She winced. “Your name *is* Hutch, isn’t it? Ken Hutchinson?”

All Hutch’s internal warning bells rang out. He slowly inclined his head.

“It is…” he said, carefully, giving nothing else away. “But you seem to have me at a disadvantage, ma’am.”

The woman nodded and indicated a chair. “May I sit down while I explain?”

“Please.” He pulled a chair out from the table. He’d humor her a little while longer – see where this was going.

The woman smiled across at Hutch, handing a carton of juice to the little boy at her side. He took it and toddled over to play on the grassy verge a few feet away as they both watched.

At length, the woman sighed and turned to look at Hutch.

“No wonder you don’t recognize me, I haven’t seen you in- oh, I guess it must be nearly twenty years, now.”

Hutch frowned. Who the hell was she?

“I’ve changed so much,” she laughed.

Hutch leaned forward, his forehead creased. “I’m sorry – you say we’ve met before, but I don’t recall you at all.”

“Not even the boots?” The woman stuck a foot out and showed Hutch a pair of heavy tan walking boots, incongruous and out of place with her light summer dress.

A tickle of memory waved at the back of Hutch’s mind. Someone else had worn boots like these with a pretty summer dress.

The flicker of recall faded and Hutch shook his head. “I’m sorry, I don’t think-“

And then the words faded as his mouth dropped open.

“No way-” he whispered. “It can’t be!”

The woman grinned hugely. “It certainly is.” She stuck her hand out again. “Victoria,” she said. “Or ‘Frankie’, whichever rings a bell.”

Hutch shook his head, astounded. “*Tor*?” he whispered, not believing his eyes.

The woman grinned. “In the flesh.”

Hutch reached out slowly and took her hand in wonder, a smile starting to spread over his face. “Damn! I don’t believe it!”

“Uh-huh. Me either. But I knew your face from clear down the street. Knew it had to be you.” She gave an embarrassed laugh. “Well, it took a moment, actually-“

Hutch pulled a face and self-consciously ran a hand through his thinning hair.

“Yeah. Not as blond or as much as there used to be.”

The woman laughed. “I like the goatee, though. Suits you.”

Hutch willed a blush down and rubbed his hand over the graying beard. “Can’t grow it on my head, so I might as well grow it on my face,” he said with a rueful smile. “But never mind me — look at you!”

“I know. All grown up.” She smiled over at the playing child. “And a mom, now.”

“My God…” Hutch stared at the dark-haired boy, then back at Tor. “Wow — I can’t wrap my head around this! You gotta tell me – how’ve you been? Are you happy? When d’you get married?”

Hutch paused for breath and then laughed at himself. “Listen to me —still calling you ‘Tor’ and firing questions at you like you’re some kinda perp.”

She laughed. “You know — I kinda like hearing you call me that again – God, it’s been forever, hasn’t it? Seems like a lifetime ago.”

Hutch chuckled. “Sure feels like it, some mornings.”

“Oh, get away with you,” she chided gently. “You look fine to me.”

Hutch gave her a sideways glance, debating whether to snort with derision or thank her.

He watched, intrigued as she blushed hugely.

Picking up an empty sugar sachet and folding it several times, she cleared her throat and glanced over at him. “Um… Can I ask you something?”

Hutch nodded slowly. “Sure.”

“How’s Monkey-Butt?”

Hutch threw his head back and roared with laughter. “I haven’t heard anyone call him that since-” He leaned back in his chair, laughter stealing his words.

“Since that week?”

“Hell, yeah. No-one’s ever had the guts to draw attention to his best asset in such a way.” Hutch chuckled.

Tor buried her head in her hands and groaned. “God, I was horrible, wasn’t I?”

“Not at all, you were great — really great,” Hutch said, meaning it. The memories flooded into his head, and almost all of them made him smile.

“Ken, I don’t suppose-” She colored even more. “Well, I don’t suppose you know what happened to him, do you?”

She shook her head and put her hand to her forehead. “God… I tell you. That man was my first crush. He kick-started my puberty into high gear – I was so smitten with him.”

Hutch dipped his head to look at her, raising his eyebrow. “Really? I’d never have guessed, what with the way you argued and beat the life out of him at every available opportunity.”

Tor groaned and hid her face. “Don’t! I just die when I think of what I did, and I never did apologize for it.”

Hutch leaned towards her and winked. “Well, maybe you could do it now,” he said, jerking his to the left.

He watched her mouth drop as she turned to look, openly gawking as Starsky approached the table carrying two plates of pastries.

It made Hutch smile that a dodgy hip and twenty hard years still hadn’t managed to kill the other man’s strut.

“Made a friend?” Starsky smiled at them both as he put the plates down.

Tor sat in silence, her mouth hanging open, eyes wide.

Hutch took pity and held up her hand. “Starsk – I’d like to re-acquaint you with someone.” He grinned. “I believe this is the only woman in the world who can claim to biting your ass *through* your jeans.”

The look on Starsky’s face made Hutch laugh out loud.

His partner peered closely, his eyes narrowing, searching the blushing face. At last, he drew back, stunned.

“My God…No way – it can’t be!”

“It sure is.” Tor gave him a rueful grin. “Hey, I’m sorry about the whole ‘ass’ thing — but you shouldn’t have tried to sit on me. Besides — it wasn’t like I could miss it, y’know?”

Starsky put a hand to his rear and gave a mock-scowl, but he couldn’t maintain the expression for long. He grinned and held his arms out.

“Aw, hell, c’mere, Trouble,” he said, laughing and pulled her up off the chair into a hug. “God, it’s good to see you!”

Hutch watched them squeeze each other tight, then smiled as Tor pulled away, blushing even more furiously. The memories of all those years ago were obviously still capable of affecting her. Must have been one hell of a crush, he thought.

“You look great,” she told Starsky, her color deepening, if possible.

Starsky grinned his lop-sided grin and gave a shrug. “I’m older, wider and a damn sight grayer, but my ego thanks you, anyway.”

“I think it suits you,” she said, a shy hand touching the close-cut silver at his temples. “You look distinguished.”

Starsky’s cheeks pinked up and he looked away. “Aw, c’mon – gimme a break.”

“Accept the compliments when you get them, my friend,” Hutch said, wagging a finger. “Doesn’t happen all that often.”

Starsky pulled a face. “Thanks, pal.”

“Rocking horse shit. That’s all I’m gonna say, Starsk.”

“Oh, yeah — like your little black book’s got more than your proctologist’s number in it.”

Tor laughed and held up her hand. “Peace, guys, okay? You’re both as gorgeous as one another, okay?”

“He’s older,” Hutch pointed out.

“Stop it!” Tor poked him on the arm. “It’s wonderful to see you both. But you gotta tell me – how come you’re here in Paris? Are you on a case?”

Hutch laughed. “Not a chance! Like the Police Department would ever send us to Europe!” He smiled over at Starsky. “No – this is a result of one of his crazy surprise trips.”

“Don’t hear ya complainin’, do I?” Starsky rolled his eyes. “Geez! I dunno— you try an’ do somethin’ nice for a guy an’ he gets all precious.”

“I did not get ‘precious’. But a little advance notice might have been-“

Starsky threw up his hands. “Well, I’ll just send ya an engraved invitation 6 months before the next SURPRISE trip, okay?” he said, laying heavy emphasis on the word.

Hutch shook his head. “Oh, get over yourself, man.”

Starsky wiggled his eyebrows in a passable Groucho. “I’d rather get over you, schweetheart,” he mugged.

“Oh, my God!” Tor exclaimed. “Oh, that is so cool! I just knew it!”

She jabbed a finger at Hutch. “I *knew* it! I was right, all those years ago! And after you denied it til you were blue in the face—”

She clasped her hands together. “And oh, Lord, Paris — how romantic!”

Hutch cleared his throat, feeling the color rise in his own cheeks. “Um- Actually, Tor, this is Stark’s surprise trip to celebrate my retirement from the force.”

There was a resounding silence broken only by Starsky’s snickering.

“Oh.” Tor said in a very small voice. “Your retirement?”

“Uh-huh. I quit the force last month.”

“Not your-” She looked from one to the other. “You know – your *anniversary*?”

Starsky grinned down at her. He poked her gently in the ribs. “Whaddya tryin’ to say about us, Trouble?”

“Um —” she floundered, clearly embarrassed. “Well, you know. I just thought- well, I guess I thought that you were-” Her voice trailed off. “Oh shit,” she said in a tiny voice. “You’re not, then?”

Starsky’s eyebrows danced as his grin widened. “Not what, darlin’?”

“Um-you know-“

Starsky shook his head, innocently. “What?”

“Starsk-” Hutch reached across and touched the back of the other man’s hand briefly, growling softly. “Play nice.”

Blue eyes danced with amusement as Starsky turned to look at him, mischief written all over his face. He picked up Hutch’s hand and squeezed it. “But I am playin’ nice, babe.”

“Embarrassing a lady isn’t nice, and you know it.” Hutch smiled at the other man, despite his words.

“See! That’s just it!” Tor exclaimed.

Hutch turned his cool blue eyes to her. “What’s it?”

She pointed at their still joined hands. “That. The touching thing — the pet names! You two do nothing but send out signals!” She shook her head. “Signals even a child could read!”

Starsky held up their linked hands and burst out laughing. “Whaddya know – we’re a coupla queer radio transmitters, Blintz! Go figure.”

“Oh, stop it,” Tor folded her arms and pouted. “You know what I mean.”

Starsky opened his mouth to say something, but Hutch shook his head. “It doesn’t matter,” he said to her with a smile. “It’s okay.”

“Hey, but Hutch! She thinks we’re a coupla-” Starsky began.

Hutch laughed softly and held the blue eyes in a fond gaze. “We *are*, Starsky.”

His partner pouted. “Yeah, but-“

Tor gasped. “You *are*!” She glared at one then the other. “I was right!” She slapped the table gently in front of Starsky. “I knew it! You mean thing – I knew I wasn’t imagining things.” She shook her head. “Oh, man, even back then it was so obvious.”

“No, not back then,” Hutch corrected.

“But-“

He held up a hand, stilling her protest. “Trust me. It wasn’t obvious to us.”

“He always was kinda slow,” Starsky said. “But he made up for it by bein’ so damned cute.”

Hutch gave him a narrow look. “You’re utterly reprehensible, you know that?”

Starsky chuckled. “God, I love it when you talk dirty.”

Tor rolled her eyes. “How could you not have known?” she said shaking her head.

The two men exchanged glances. Hutch smiled slightly. “I guess we were slow learners.”

“And how long have you-?” Tor put her hand over her mouth. “Oops! Sorry — that’s none of my business!”

Starsky laughed. “Well, funny you should ask —”

“Starsk…” Hutch felt his face warm up.

“Nah, s’cool, babe. No reason not to let her into the secret.” He winked down at Tor. “That very week,” he said with a huge grin.

“No way!!”

“Uh-huh.” Starsky nodded and glanced over at Hutch with open affection.

“Oh, that is so sweet.” Tor’s eyes sparkled. She laughed out loud. “God, I feel like a total matchmaker!”

She reached out, put her hand over Hutch’s and held her other hand out to Starsky.

“It must be fate we’ve met up again. Hardly a day went by when I didn’t think about you two, and wonder what happened.”

She grinned at Starsky.

“Hell, I used to constantly fantasize that you’d come back and sweep me off my feet one day, Detective Sergeant Starsky.”

She nodded, solemnly. “I knew it was never gonna happen. But it was okay, because I always pictured Hutch there to look after you.” She squeezed their hands. “Guess I was right about that, huh?”

“You sure were,” Hutch said softly, staring at his partner.

The moment broke as a small child wriggled under their joined hands. The boy gazed up at them with big brown eyes.

“Hey, who’s this cute little guy?” Starsky asked, letting go of Tor and bending to stare at the child. He poked a gentle finger at the little nose, eliciting a giggle that made the curls on the small head wobble.

Tor smiled. “I’d like you both to meet my son. His name is David-Michel.”

 

Chapter 1

September, 1979.

“With all due respect, Cap, when did this division become a baby-sittin’ service?”

Starsky’s tone left no doubt as to his opinion on the matter.

Dobey sighed. “Since this morning, Detective. And it’s hardly ‘baby-sitting’. The subject may be a minor, but she is certainly not a ‘baby’.”

He shoved a folder over the desk top. “The reason you and Detective Hutchinson have been assigned this duty is all laid out in here.”

Starsky pressed his lips together in a sulky pout as he reached out and all but snatched the folder up.

He sighed, flicking through the documents, frowning.

Tossing the folder back down on the desk after a cursory glance he scowled. “I don’t see no reason why another department couldn’t have been used. Hell, even another pair of detectives.” He folded his arms defensively. “Why us?”

Captain Dobey put his elbows on the desk and scowled back. He squeezed a biro between his fingers, bending it one way then another. “Just because…”

“No, Cap- the fuck up rests with the DEA – it ain’t our mess! Why should we get stuck with cleaning up after ’em?” He jabbed a finger across the table.

“Any other cops could be used for this. An’ another thing – it don’t make a jot of sense to put two *guys* on the job.” His eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Unless we’re being singled out.”

Dobey made a growling noise in the back of his throat. “No, *Detective* there’s no mysterious agenda. The DEA merely wants two unknown detectives…”

Starsky bristled, and Dobey instantly held up a hand.

“That’s to say, unknown to any other officer within the north area DEA. And you fit the physical description of the witness’ daughter closely enough to carry off being her father. You also come from New York, as does the vic.”

“Cap’n! I don’t know the first thing about bein’ a-“

“I don’t CARE!” Dobey roared. “I’m assuming you have a tiny spark of imagination — USE it!”

Starsky’s scowl deepened. “But why do I hafta be a dad with a ‘special friend’?” He pulled a face at the term, resolutely refusing to look over at Hutch.

Dobey took a couple of deep breaths before continuing. “By assuming the identity of a father with his male companion, you’ll be able to work without being ‘made’. The bad guys are looking for a ‘regular’ couple.” His own frown deepened. “That’s why the last three teams got busted.”

Starsky glared right back at him, unintimidated. “I still think…”

“I’m quite aware of what you think, Detective.” Dobey’s fingers clenched. “But unless this kid has a guaranteed safe house, her mother has refused to continue TESTIFYING!”

The pen snapped with a crack. Dobey looked down at its broken body with surprise.

“But Cap’n, it’s just plain stupid we gotta go to the middle of nowhere and-” Starsky flapped his hand derisively at the folder. “Pretend to be a coupla fruits! Surely a hotel with mounted guards would be just as effective in lookin’ after the kid?”

“You know damned well hotels can be breached.”

“And a cabin in the middle of nowhere is any better?!” He and Dobey glared at one another over the desk.

Hutch held up a hand. “May I say something, here?”

Hutch smiled in a way he knew would be way too wide for Starsky’s liking. “As I see it, we get a week out someplace peaceful, enjoying the weather, looking after some poor little kid whose mother was in the wrong place, at the wrong time.”

He shrugged and looked at Starsky. “Where’s the problem with that?”

Starsky opened his mouth as if to say exactly what he thought was wrong with that, but Dobey leapt into the pause.

“I’m glad *one* of you can see sense. Maybe you can talk some into your partner.”

“I don’t think…” Starsky began.

“You will carry out this operation without question, Detective.”

“But I’m-“

“Do you have a problem with your instructions?” Dobey’s tone left no doubt as to what he thought of that concept.

Starsky chewed the inside of his lip as if running through his options.

Hutch knew there wasn’t one to be had that wasn’t labeled ‘Professional Suicide’. He watched his partner grind his teeth for a moment.

Hutch knew Starsky hated the woods — knew he hated this plan and he knew that the fact that Hutch was sitting next to him in smug acceptance would be driving him insane. Hutch’s grin widened.

Starsky opened his mouth. “I don’t wanna-“

“NO MORE!” Dobey slammed the pen down on the desk, one half shooting off the edge with a spatter of inky blood. The gory trail did not improve the captain’s mood.

He dropped the other half down and regarded his hands with displeasure. He looked at Starsky as if blaming him for the mess.

The dark haired man pouted right back at him, more sulkily, if possible.

Dobey wondered if Hutch realized he was going to be responsible for two children on this case.

“Hear me on this, Detective. You will follow all the correct procedure for Witness Protection. An unmarked car and false papers will be issued for you all. There will be no direct communication, as usual — a safe number to call is listed with the ID’s.”

He paused for effect.

“You will take this more than seriously. It’s not only one child’s life at stake, but an entire web of corruption within the realms of law enforcement.”

He stared directly at Starsky as he spoke. Pausing to nod at Hutch, he continued more calmly.

“You’ll be contacted when the child’s mother has completed her testimony. At that time you’ll return the kid to her mother for witness relocation.”

He looked from one to the other. “Any questions?”

“No sir,” Hutch replied serenely.

Starsky stared at his captain with dumb insolence for as long as he dared. Then he nodded curtly, lips still rigid with displeasure.

“Good.” Dobey levered himself from behind the desk and regarded his inky hands. “Read the file, Detectives. Follow the instructions to the letter. I expect you to be gone when I get back.”

He lumbered out of the room, slamming the door.

Starsky sat in silent protest, arms folded, staring at the wall.

Hutch sighed and leaned over to pick up the file. He opened it and thrust half at his partner. “Read and calm down.”

He sat back and began to brief himself on the details, thoroughly enjoying the sly glances over the file at his furious partner.

It wasn’t often Starsky lost it so completely. He wondered if it was the baby-sitting, the woods or the ‘special friend’ aspect that bugged his partner the most.

Moments later, Starsky exploded. “What the HELL?!”

Hutch looked up. “Huh?”

His partner held his false ID between two fingers. “Have you seen this?” he demanded loudly.

“Nope. Still tryin’ to decipher the directions. I can’t figure out which-“

Starsky waved the identity paperwork in the air, his face contorted with indignation. He thrust the papers out. “Look at this!”

Hutch scanned the paperwork. “So, what’s wrong with Michael? It’s near enough your name.”

“Try again.”

Obediently, Hutch looked. “Michael Stephen Hunt.” He shrugged. “So?”

Starsky raised an eyebrow. “Try again.”

Hutch looked blankly at him. “Michael Hunt.”

“Shorten it.”

“Mike…” Dawning realization blossomed on his face, followed by a huge grin. “Oh, I see.”He shook his head and laughed.

“Damn. Someone up in Witness Protection has one hell of a twisted sense of humor. Oh, that’s priceless!” A fresh wave of mirth almost doubled him over.

“I’m gonna complain.”

“Well, buddy, it’s a bit late for that.” Hutch glanced at his watch. “We’ve gotta be outta here in fifteen. The rendezvous point’ll take at least three hours to reach at this time of day.”

He gathered up the paperwork and stuffed it into its folder. “And I don’t know ’bout you, but I gotta do some serious packing.”

“But…”

“Hey,” He paused at the door. “It’s just for the week, Starsk. You can live with a dumb name for that long.”

Starsky managed to look dubious and pathetic all at the same time. He sighed. “I suppose. But I’m definitely gonna to complain to Dobey when we get back, though.”

“You do that,” Hutch said, holding the door open, trying to keep a patronizing tone out of his voice.

Starsky glared at him and stalked through with a huff of displeasure.

The captain’s door snicked shut behind them. Hutch followed Starsky’s outraged stomp out of the squad room with a huge grin all over his face.

It was going to be an interesting week.

 

Chapter 2

“Is this it?” Hutch peered out of the car window. The warehouse looked decidedly abandoned. Abandoned and filthy dirty by the look of it.

Starsky checked the name of the building on his lap. “I guess. The name’s the same.”

Hutch huffed and sighed. “Come on then. Let’s check it out.”

He climbed out of the unmarked police car and stomped off across the gravel. Let’s hear it for the government’s choice of rendezvous-points, Hutch thought. Couldn’t be a nice clean motel.

Oh, no. They got to do this in some disgusting old warehouse that looked like it’d been used as a truck graveyard hidden in the middle of nowhere.

Starsky followed in Hutch’s wake, muttering darkly to himself.

He had showered, changed and packed in record time, but his mood ever since Hutch picked him up in an unmarked police vehicle was still the same.

Severely pissed.

Hutch as he swung the keys round in his hand, glancing behind and grinning at his miserable partner. He was actually quite looking forward to a week in the boondocks.

He heard Starsky sigh for the millionth time.

The man looked as if he expected spending a week in a cabin to kill him.

Hutch bit back a sigh of his own. Snippy and bad-tempered looked like being the flavor of the week from Detective Starsky. An hour into their journey he’d itched to smack the pissy expression off his partner’s face.

Or get into role and kiss it off. That’d really freak him out.

Hutch frowned and dodged a large oil-spill as he visualized doing just that. The visual was crystal-clear, full-blown Technicolor with surround sound. Where the hell did that come from?

It gave him a strange jolt in the center of his chest that led to a small quiet freak of his own.

It was going to be a hell of a long week.

Stepping into the darkened building, Starsky squinted to get his eyes used to the gloom.

Hutch stood doing the same thing.

“You *sure* this is the right place?” he asked again, his tone a little snippy.

Hutch just made a noise in his throat, not bothering to defend his map-reading skills.

“Hey.”

The voice came from the shadows, followed by a large, dark-suited man.

Both hands went to their guns.

“Who is it?” Starsky asked, wary.

“A.A. Milne’s little friend.”

They relaxed. It was the DEA.

“Tell Tigger we said hi,” Hutch replied, wondering for the life of him who thought up such dumb passwords.

“You’re late,” the man snapped, turning away. He strode across the dirty warehouse, not checking to see if the two cops were following him.

Starsky exchanged a glance with Hutch, rolling his eyes. “Another Charm-School drop-out,” he muttered.

They caught up with the DEA agent on the far side of the building by a broken door.

He pushed it open with bad grace.

“Okay – your Daddy and his special friend are here, Victoria.”

A petulant voice snapped from inside the dark room. “We all know damn well he ain’t my Dad. And my name’s *Frankie*, ya shithead.”

The man sighed. “I told you. Your name is ‘Victoria’ from now on.”

“I don’t like that name. It’s soppy.”

The DEA man rolled his eyes. “Maybe you’d like being dead, better.”

Hutch’s eyes widened. That was a little harsh. She was just a kid.

Quick as a flash, the kid snapped back out of the dark. “And maybe you’d like to kiss my ass.”

Starsky closed his mouth on a grin.

“I’d prefer to spank it, to be honest.” Large knuckles rapped the door. “Now get yourself out here, *Victoria*. Right now.”

Nothing happened.

“NOW!” The agent shouted, clearly starting to lose it.

“I ain’t goin’ nowhere with any lame-ass cops, I told you that, already.”

The angry statement was accompanied by the sound of something being thrown across the room.

“And my goddamned name’s FRANKIE!”

With a sigh, the DEA man chewed on his lip, fists clenched.

“Now, Victoria,” he began, trying to be reasonable. “You know we have to get you out of town.”

“Oh, fuck you, man.”

There was a moment of silence from all three adults as the words echoed around the room. Hutch caught sight of Starsky’s mouth dropping open.

He turned and looked at the blond, his face a picture. Hutch raised an eyebrow in reply.

“I won’t tell you again…” The DEA man tucked his gun into its holster.

“Well, that’s a fuckin’ relief. Means I won’t have to tell ya to-

With a grunt, the man disappeared inside the room.

The two ‘lame-ass’ cops stood and stared into to the darkness, listening to the muffled struggle.

“Get the hell offa me!”

“You little…!”

“OW!”

“Shit!”

Starsky snatched a look at Hutch. Shall I go in there, his eyebrow asked.

I wouldn’t if I were you, Hutch silently replied with a small shake of his head.

“Get out…” A grunt of pain.

“Hey! You fuckin’ perv… OW! Leggo!”

Something wooden splintered and the DEA man emerged, his arms full of hissing and spitting child, his face screwed up in obvious pain. The girl clamped upside-down in his arms struggled and fought.

“You-goddam-fuckin’-pervert-you’re-not-gonna-get-away-with-this! Just-you-put-me-down-and-I’ll-rip-your-fuckin’-balls-off…”

Unceremoniously, the agent dropped the girl down in a foul-mouthed heap at his feet.

“Shit…” she gasped, the breath knocked out of her.

“Here,” he panted, dusting his hands down. “She’s all yours.”

Starsky and Hutch looked down.

‘Victoria’ glared up at them.

She was apparently 13, the paperwork said. She had lived in the projects over by the docks in NY, a child that saw life from the sharp end, by the sound of it, one who’s mother had been witness to a triple homicide by a police officer.

They stared at the child at their feet. She didn’t look 13. She didn’t actually look much like a girl, either, but that was probably more to do with the poisonous look on her face than anything else.

The dark, curly hair was cut short, and she wore a Giants shirt over ripped jeans.

“Er… Hi,” Starsky said.

No reply.

Hutch leaned over and gave it a go. “Hello, Victoria. We’ve been assigned to be your guardians until after your mom testifies.”

No reply. Just another scowl.

The DEA man fingered a patch over his eye that looked like it would bruise up by the morning. “Okay. You got the instructions?”

Starsky nodded, his gaze fixed on the crumpled heap on the floor that practically hissed with animosity.

“Well. You’d better get going to the safe house, then.”

“I guess.” Starsky held out his hand to the girl. “Comin’?”

“No.”

Starsky nodded. “I really think you should.”

“Do I got a goddamned choice?” she snapped.

“Not really,” Starsky admitted with a shrug, giving her a crooked smile.

“Hey – you could just sit there and wait to get shot,” the DEA guy suggested sourly, poking his bruise. “Works for me.”

Hutch glanced up at him, frowning. “I don’t think that attitude is helping.”

The man just held up his other hand. “Look. I gotta report back. Why don’t you just get her out of here?”

Hutch nodded brusquely and turned to Starsky. “Car?”

Watching for a moment as his partner jogged away, he exchanged glances with the other agent and then both stared at the girl on the floor.

She was muttering a fine selection of obscenities under her breath, scratching at the dirt with a filthy nail. Scruffy hair, grubby clothes — Hutch wondered if this was some kind of undercover thing or her natural attire.

“Good luck,” the DEA guy muttered as Starsky appeared at the warehouse doors in the car. “You’re gonna need it.”

Hutch pulled a face behind his back as he walked away.

Then he contemplated how they were going to get the girl in the back of the car with all of them in one piece.

***

The sound of the radio slipped down a notch as Hutch leaned forward and turned the dial.

“Either of you two want to stop to use the bathroom? There’s one coming up in a mile or so.”

In the back seat, Starsky nodded. “Yeah, please.”

Hutch watched in the mirror as his partner absently rubbed his shoulder. Little Miss Victoria had caught him with her sneaker in the struggle to get her in the car. Hutch wasn’t at all sure it had been an accident.

“How about you, Victoria?” Hutch asked.

Starsky turned to glance at the girl. She was sitting as far away from him as humanly possible, scrunched up against the door, arms folded over her chest, face turned away and scowling.

“Hey…” Starsky reached over to touch her shoulder. “My partner asked you a question.”

Flinching away and head whipping round, she opened her mouth to say something, but Starsky held up a finger.

“We told you,” he said firmly. “An’ the DEA guy told you. You gotta be undercover from now on. No ‘you’re not my Pa’ and no more ‘my name’s not Victoria’ stuff. You hear?”

There was a grunt for a reply. “That a ‘yes’?” Starsky persisted.

The grunt again, and she turned her head away.

Sighing, Starsky caught Hutch’s eye in the rear-view. “Think that was a ‘yes’?”

“I guess so,” Hutch smiled. He knew he’d got the better deal, up front. “I’ll pull over at the next turn off, okay?”

“Do I get to drive, then?” Starsky asked, hopefully.

“I’ll think about it.”

Hutch grinned in the mirror to let Starsky know he wouldn’t be getting to drive any time soon. To hell with equality, Hutch thought to himself, glancing in the mirror again. He’d seen the battle to get that child in the backseat and didn’t feel any pressing need to share in the experience.

No thank you, sir. He’d leave the physical stuff up to her ‘father’. He smiled to himself. He was better built for it, anyway.

Then he frowned.

What the hell was he doing, thinking about how Starsky was built? He shook his head a little. The operation was getting to him already.

“So,” he began, changing the mental subject with little small talk. “I suppose we should get to know one another.”

A resounding silence came from the back of the car.

Hutch cleared his throat and tried to ignore the response. Or lack of it.

“My name’s Detective Ken Hutchinson, but during this operation, I have to pretend to be your dad’s special friend. He winced slightly when he realized he hadn’t changed the subject at all.

“My undercover name is Richard Travers. You can call me Richie, okay?”

Victoria lifted her eyes from the road and stared at Hutch in the mirror.

“Hey, *Dick* – I ain’t stupid. Whatcha mean is you’re supposed to be my *father’s* piece of ass.” She snorted a sharp laugh.

Hutch glanced at Starsky. The other man was staring out of the car window, pulling a face as if in pain.

Hutch cleared his throat. “Well, I guess so, if you want to put it like that. Although I think it best we all just say we’re friends, okay?”

“Best for who?”

Hutch shrugged. “Everyone. Besides, we are friends, in real life, you know?”

“You fuck each other in real life, too? That why you got the job?” Victoria grinned.

Hutch felt himself blush furiously. “No! And it’d be b-best-” he stuttered, took a breath and started again. “I’d rather you didn’t use language like that.” He looked at Starsky for back up, but his partner just sat ramrod still in the seat, his eyes wide, staring out of the window.

The girl snorted. “Yeah, I b-b-bet,” she mocked.

Hutch promised himself he was going to have a chat with his partner about the lack of assistance. He grimly continued.

“That man sitting silently beside you is your ‘dad’. He’s called Mike in this operation. Say hello to your little girl, Mike.”

Starsky raised his eyes to the mirror and gave Hutch a blistering look.

“Hello,” he said with very bad grace.

Victoria raised her head. “Oh, gee-whizz, folks – I’m real happy to meet the pair of you lame-ass fairies.”

Hutch’s eyebrow lifted. Almost a conversation. “Well, we’re pleased to meet you, too, Victoria.”

The girl scowled. “My name’s Frankie.”

“Sorry, but for the rest of this week, it’s not.” Hutch told her and got a glare in the mirror for his trouble.

Silence reigned as the car sped on towards the rest stop.

Around five miles down the highway a small sigh heaved from the rear passenger.

“So what’s your real name?”

There was a pause, and Hutch wondered if his partner was going to ignore her as some kind of punishment, but then he heard Starsky clear his throat.

“Detective David Michael Starsky.”

Victoria gave very unlady-like snort. “What?”

Starsky didn’t reply this time.

“Oh my god! What a dumb-ass name! Starchy!” She laughed.

“Glad you think it’s funny,” Starsky told her, dryly.

“I said it’s *dumb*. Not funny,” she snapped.

“Yeah?”

“Well, Frankie’s a pretty dumb name for a girl if ya ask me.”

“Yeah, screw you.”

Conversation over, silence blossomed, feasting on the hostilities in the backseat. Hutch rolled his eyes. It was going to be a very long week.

 

Chapter 3

Parking next to a camper at the far end of the rest stop, Hutch killed the engine and turned slightly in the seat.

“I think we should all get out and go together.”

Starsky nodded. “Yeah. Sounds like a plan.”

Over the other side of the car Victoria snorted. “You think I’m gonna piss with you two pervs watchin’?”

The two looked at her then at each other in alarm.

“That wasn’t what I meant-” Hutch began.

“You’re tellin’ me it ain’t.” A dirty finger jabbed across the seat. “You ain’t gonna get your rocks off watchin’ me take a whiz, Starchy.”

Starsky’s mouth dropped a little.

“Look,” Hutch sighed, spreading his hands. “You need to understand that we need to keep you as much in our sight as is possible, for your own safety, Victoria. And while that will not include watching you conduct matters of a personal nature, is does include walking in public areas. Understand?”

No answer.

Hutch sighed and shook his head.

“Victoria,” Starsky said with pointed deliberation. “Richie asked you a question.”

“Don’t call me that,” the girl replied, pouting.

Starsky rubbed his eyes wearily. “We have to call you that. That’s what’s on your ID.”

“I hate it. It’s soppy and girly.”

Starsky appeared to bite back the obvious remark that it was because she was a girl. He clenched his teeth.

“What about ‘Vicky’, then?” Hutch suggested, taking the role of peacekeeper.

“No way.” The pout deepened.

“Vee?”

She just turned her face away.

“I knew a girl once in grade school,” Starsky began, quietly. “She wasn’t all girlie and soppy. She was real cool. Played soccer for the county and fought just like a boy.”

Two faces turned to look at him. He hesitated under their gaze, but plunged on.

“Her name was Victoria as well, but she’d punch anyone out who called her that. She was the coolest kid in the class; everyone wanted to be her friend.”

He looked from one pair of wide eyes to the other, obviously embarrassed with sharing his memories.

“Anyway. She made the whole grade call her ‘Tor’.” He shrugged. “What about that?”

There was silence as the small passenger considered the idea. Starsky pulled a face at Hutch’s questioning eyebrow — he knew he was going to be answering some serious questions on this later.

“Well?” he prompted.

Victoria looked at him. It might be her imagination, but there looked to be a shade less hostility in her face.

“I suppose it’s better than the other ones,” she admitted, grudgingly.

Starsky grinned, letting out a breath. “Good. Now I really do gotta drain the lizard, so let’s go.”

Hutch caught a slight flash of amusement on the grubby face, then the shutters came down and the girl clamped her sullen mask on again.

“You still don’t get to watch,” she said again with a glare.

“Trust me, I wasn’t planning on it,” Starsky breathed, slamming the door behind him. He stood sandwiching the girl between him and Hutch as they began to walk up to the restrooms.

***

Leaning up against the wall, Starsky sighed and checked his watch again as Hutch emerged from the restroom.

“Why does it always take you three times as long to ‘go’ as me?” Starsky teased.

“Maybe cause I take time to wash my hands, afterwards?” Hutch said. “But I’m sorry, buddy. I didn’t realize you enjoyed timing me,” Hutch said with a grin, shaking damp hands at his partner.

“I wasn’t timing you,” Starsky replied, blushing a little.

Hutch studied the other man’s face. That color looked good on him. It made his blue eyes stand out in contrast.

Hutch surprised himself thinking that. That wasn’t a way he would usually have thought of his partner. And then despite his best intentions, he followed it up by idly wondering what it would take to make Starsky blush again.

He shook his hands again, a substitute for shaking his head to clear it, and peered into the ladies. “Wonder if I should…” he pondered aloud.

Starsky shook his head. “I wouldn’t. She’ll probably scream the place down.”

Hutch nodded. “You’re right. We’ll give her a little longer.”

From the corner of his eye, he watched Starsky exchange rolled eyes with a man standing impatiently with a poodle.

“Women, huh?” Starsky said, nodding his head at the doorway.

“Tell me about it. Three daughters, two wives.” The man shook his head. “Spend my life standing out here.”

Starsky laughed. “I hear ya.”

“Waiting for your lady wife?” The man asked, smiling.

Starsky opened his mouth to reply, remembering at the last instant who he was supposed to be.

Hutch jumped in. “Nope,” he said casually, resting a large hand on Starsky’s shoulder. “His daughter. And I know what you mean about women. We seem to spend forever waiting for her, don’t we, babe?”

Starsky stared at the hand on his shoulder, then up at Hutch’s face. His eyes seemed to grow larger.

Hutch stared back, forcing a smile onto his face. He could feel the warmth of Starsky’s shoulder in his palm. It was nice – as always, but now it seemed to be charged with something else altogether. The endearment sounded different, somehow. For the first time, it made him uncomfortable.

He glanced over at the poodle-walker’s expression. It had changed to something decidedly less friendly.

Hutch saw the man jerk the dog’s leash and muttered something under his breath as he stalked away, dragging the startled hound behind him.

Hutch turned to stare at the restroom door, not daring to look at Starsky – he was sure the distress on his partner’s face would be screamingly obvious if the tensing of his shoulders was any indication. He let his hand slide away.

He was annoyed, and a little disappointed. He touched his partner all the time. This was no different; and it had never bothered them what people thought before now.

“I’m going to see what Tor’s up to,” he said. He risked glanced at the other man. “Okay?”

Starsky gave a totally false grin that turned Hutch inside out. “Don’t be long, honey,” he said with a wink, obviously trying to get into the role-play despite his discomfort.

Hutch recognized it for the bravado and defiance it was. He nodded slightly, letting his partner know he could read through the obvious, and understood.

“I’ll be as quick as I can,” he replied, tilting his head and moving to walk around the corner to stand in the doorway of the lavatories.

He scanned left and right in the block. No sign of Tor.

He frowned as a stout woman emerged. There had been only one other woman heading towards the rooms when Tor went inside.

He called out. “Tor… Hurry up, will you?”

Hutch frowned at the resounding silence from inside. This kid was starting to piss him off in a big way.

“Tor. Come ON!” he yelled

Silence again.

Lifting his fist, Hutch began to pound on the doorway. “Hurry up, will you, child!”

“Ain’t no-one else in there, mister,” a fat woman told him, giving him a strange look as she walked away.

Hutch felt his stomach drop. “Oh, shit,” he whispered.

“Michael!” He yelled as loudly as he could, turning from the empty doorway. “MICHAEL!!”

Hutch tore around the corner in a tangle of arms and legs. “Didn’t you hear me yell?” he demanded, furiously at Starsky.

“I didn’t-“

Starsky started to explain, but Hutch held up his hand. “She’s gone out of the window!”

“What?!”

Hutch made impatient motions with his hand and started to run around the other side of the building. “Crawled through the window and gone!”

“Which way?” Starsky asked, scanning the fields around the rest stop.

“Dunno,” Hutch admitted, doing the same. “Split up. You go that way,” he pointed. “I’ll go this.”

Hutch heard Starsky mutter ‘fuck’ under his breath as he took off across to the left and started to sprint away with that unmistakably bandy-legged run.

How the hell could they let this happen? They’d only had the kid half a day.

Both careers over and done with because one foul-mouth urchin slipped through their fingers. He was gonna kill her when he found her.

If she was still alive.

***

Thank God he’d worn his oldest, most comfortable shoes, Hutch thought as he ran over the uneven grass. He’d never have been able to do this cross-country stuff in his cowboy boots, that was for sure.

Squinting into the sun, he made out the glimpse of white tee-shirt that betrayed Starsky’s position. Straight ahead, about three hundred yards, he estimated and began to jog towards his partner.

Feeling the weight of his gun bouncing uncomfortably in its holster on his leg, Hutch pushed a strand of hair from his forehead and tried to settle into a steady rhythm on the rugged ground.

The sound of Starsky’s piercing, two-fingered whistle had stopped him haring off across another field in the nick of time. Small mercies – he wasn’t sure there was a cleaning agent in the world that would get cow shit out of beige suede.

As he jogged nearer, he frowned. Starsky was kneeling on the ground by the look of it. Maybe he was hurt? Hutch picked up the pace a little.

Drawing nearer, the sound of steady cursing reached his ears.

“Get offa me, you asshole!”

“Not a chance, miscreant.”

“Whaddyou call me?”

“Look it up.”

“Look it up your ass – get offa me!”

“I see you found her,” Hutch said, resting his hands on his thighs to get his breath back.

“Yeah…”

Starsky was lying propped up on the grass, one knee pinning Tor’s legs down, his left hand holding both her wrists over her head. Both of them were red-faced and angry.

Starsky had a large grass-stain across one shoulder and mud down one leg of his jeans. His face glistened with perspiration.

It looked to have been quite a struggle.

Tor didn’t seem to be any worse the wear for the tussle. But then it was hard to tell, she’d been a mess to start with.

Starsky grunted as her raised knee dug painfully into his thigh. “Quit that, will ya?” he snapped at the wriggling body beneath him.

“Kiss my ass!” The knee came up harder.

“I oughta…” A vein on the side of Starsky’s neck bulged alarmingly.

“I think you could let her go,” suggested Hutch. “There’s two of us, now.”

Starsky grunted, took his hands from around the small wrists and tried to stand up.

“Fuckin’ pervert!” Tor yelled, struggling to escape. She lashed out with one free hand, catching Starsky a full-palmed, stinging slap across his face.

Hutch winced at the noise an angry hand on a cheek made. Damn, that had to hurt – even Tor looked a little shocked at the sound.

Hutch straightened up, reaching out, ready to stop Starsky from pounding the girl into the grass. There were rules about beating a child, but he wouldn’t blame his partner one bit if he went for it.

Starsky sat back on his heels, his hand coming up to touch his cheek tenderly. He poked the already reddening flesh.

“That hurt,” he said quietly.

Tor didn’t reply, just stared. She looked as if she was weighing up her chances with another smart-ass remark before Starsky hit her back.

“Don’t do that again,” Starsky told her, rising up.

Hutch raised an eyebrow at his partner’s restraint. He didn’t know if he would have been able to keep his hands off the kid after a smack like that.

“You okay?” he asked. Stupid question, but there wasn’t much else he could say.

“Uh-huh,” Starsky replied, staring at the crumpled girl at their feet. Muddy fingers rubbed his jaw, working it from side to side. “I’ll live.”

Hutch’s hand was raised up halfway to touch Starsky’s face before he realized what he was doing. The incident with the dog-owner had soured things.

He pushed his hand back down, tightening it into a fist. He turned away quickly and pointed at Tor, directing his anger at her.

“You. Get up.”

To his amazement, the girl did as she was told. Wonders would never cease, Hutch thought. He decided a small lecture was in order. He stepped into the girl’s personal space.

“Understand this, Victoria. We are here to keep you alive. We are here to protect you and care for you. We are not here to chase across fields or search restrooms for you.”

Jabbing a finger under Tor’s nose to make each point, Hutch raised his voice accordingly.

“We cannot do our job if you insist on running away. If it happens again, I will have no alternative but to handcuff you when we reach the cabin. Is that understood?”

“You wouldn’t dare!” Tor’s chin came up with a belligerent jerk.

“Oh, yes I would. To keep you from endangering yourself and us, I will do it. Trust me.”

Dark eyes flashed angrily. “Bastard.”

“If you say so.”

He glared at the girl, daring her to argue. He could do ‘angry’ better than this little kid. He’d had years of practice.

“Just close your mouth and get moving.”

“Fuckin’ faggot.”

“Whatever.” Hutch glared harder. “And I’ll tell you something else, too. If I have to restrain you – I’ll have no hesitation in doing it with you in your underwear.”

The outrage on Tor’s face was almost enough to make him smile, if he hadn’t been so angry. “I don’t suppose you’ll be all that keen on running out on us in your undies, would you?”

“You wouldn’t fuckin’ dare!”

“Oh, but I would.”

“No way – it’s a violation of my rights!”

“So is being dead,” Hutch told her, reaching for a muddy hand. “Now walk nicely with me back to the car.”

There was the expected resistance. “Don’t wanna hold your hand like no baby!”

“Then you shouldn’t have run off like one, should you?” Hutch pulled again. He sighed when Tor refused to budge.

“Here’s the plan, Victoria-“

“That’s not my name.”

“Oh, yes it is until you stop acting like a five-year-old. So like I said: Here’s the plan. Either you walk holding my hand-“

He looked at Starsky and paused for dramatic effect. “Or I get your ‘father’ to carry you back over his shoulder.”

“No way!”

Hutch lifted his eyebrow in question. He had no doubt that Starsky would be more than happy to drag Tor’s squealing body back to the car and throw her in, judging by the look on his face.

Tor obviously thought so to, as she glanced over to him. She sighed and began to walk, jerking Hutch forward with a sharp pull.

“Come on, then. Move your skinny ass, ‘mommy’.”

Hutch allowed himself to be pulled along, casting a shrugged grin at Starsky, who shook his head and began to walk alongside.

Tor stomped along holding Hutch at arms length, about as far away as she could get from him without letting go.

Starsky leaned over and whispered. “Wow! I’m sure glad you’re not my mom.”

Hutch smiled and shivered slightly as the words tickled his ear.

 

Chapter 4

“I told you, I don’t need no new clothes.” That sulky bottom lip pooched out again. She folded her arms and stared out of the store window.

Hutch plucked at the stained tee-shirt. “Yes, you do. This stinks.”

“Does not!” Tor managed to look both defiant and offended at the same time.

“Don’t argue with me, Tor. We’re going to get new stuff, and we’re going to do it with or without your input.”

Hutch dragged the girl between the racks of clothes, fighting the urge to strangle the teenager. The unrelenting hostilities were wearing him down. How did other people cope with their kids?

“How ’bout this?” Starsky called from behind a colorful rail. He held up a summer dress, an endearingly expectant expression all over his face.

Tor exploded. “No WAY! Absolutely no f…” She got no further with her protests, because Hutch whipped around and clamped a hand over her mouth. Big surprised eyes looked at him over the hand.

“Ah-ah. No. We will not be using any more words like that.” He glared down. “I am not having you shock an entire department store with foul language. Understood?”

He was tired of listening to the filth that came out of this kid’s mouth. He could only imagine what his own parents would have done if he’d have come out with half the words Tor used. He took his hand away slowly. “Okay?”

“You can’t tell me what to do. You’re not…!”

Hutch clamped his hand over the mouth again and smiled grimly. “Two things. One: you will not mention the ‘You Are Not’ phrase again. And two, most importantly, I think you’ll find I most certainly can – Victoria.”

He slowly lowered his hand and wiped it on his jeans. It was more than a little wet.

Tor licked her lips. “Don’t use that name. I hate it.”

“Then behave. Earn the right to have the other name.”

Tor pouted again and shot Hutch a vicious look.

Hutch ignored her. “Deal?”

“Hhhm.”

“That a yes, mommy?” Starsky asked, wandering over still clutching the dress.

He leaned on a shelf, dangling the flowery item between two fingers. “Lookit the pretty dressy-wessy, Victoria,” he smirked.

“I can live without the ‘mom’ comments, thank you, Michael.” Hutch replied, looking sideways at him and then back at Tor’s angry face. “And it’s not nice to tease.”

“Oh but it’s a lovely dress. I think it would suit our little girl down to the ground!”

“No way!”

“Aw, I don’t know-” Starsky stepped over and held the dress under her chin. “C’mon. I think you’d look kinda sweet in it.”

Stepping back as if burned, Tor snarled at him. “Get f-” Snatching a glance at Hutch’s face, she re-thought her vocabulary and finished rather lamely: “Lost.”

Sensing a not inconsiderable victory, Hutch took pity. “Okay — you hate the dress, we get it. Why don’t you tell us what you’d prefer to wear?”

She narrowed her eyes. “You mean it?”

Hutch nodded. “Uh-huh. What would you pick out?”

Frowning, the girl looked around. Her gaze finally settled. Hutch watched a smile spread over her face.

“Those,” she said, pointing.

Turning to where she indicated, the men were greeted with a collection of denim dungarees.

“Those?” Hutch echoed.

“Yeah. They’re cool.” Slipping her hand free, Tor dashed between the rails to stand at the denim section, running her hand over the shiny brass buttons and hooks on the front.

Hutch looked at Starsky and raised his eyebrows. What d’you think, he asked silently.

Starsky shrugged, noncommittally.

They made their way over to where Tor stood, rifling through the clothes.

“These are boys’ clothes, Tor,” Hutch pointed out, knowing his sister would never have been caught dead in boys’ stuff at Tor’s age.

“So?” A hint of the earlier aggression filtered back.

Hutch exchanged a look with his partner. Raw nerve, there, apparently.

Starsky nodded. “Okay, okay. Dungarees it is. And how ’bout a coupla fresh tees to go with ’em?”

“You mean it?” Tor’s face was a picture. She looked from one to the other. “Yeah?”

Hutch wondered how often the kid got any new clothes.

Starsky “Sure ya can. Why not? A guy’s gotta look good, doncha think?” He threw the dress over his shoulder and picked up a pair. He studied the buttons intently. His face lit up. “Hey — these have a navy logo on ’em!”

Eyes wide, Tor turned back to the rail, trying to find her size. “No way! Cool, man!” She fished out a pair.

She muttered to herself, turning the clothes around in her hands, admiring it. Hutch watched, a wry expression in his face. His sister would have thrown a fit if Starsky had called her a ‘guy’.

“These would look good,” Starsky said, blithely handing over four baggy tee shirts from the boys’ section.

Tor reached out to take the shirts, her gaze flicking from Starsky to Hutch as if unsure about taking them. Hutch nodded.

“And hey – you gotta have boots, too,” Starsky said, apparently getting into the whole shopping-thing in a big way.

Hutch watched in amusement as his partner grabbed a pair of tan ankle boots.

“These your size, huh?” he asked, showing the boots to Tor, who nodded, dumbly.

Oblivious to Hutch’s amused smirk, Starsky rummaged along some shelves to come up with several pairs of gym socks and boxer shorts. He counted them out over his arm.

“Five, six…”

“Erm… Michael?” Hutch began, hesitating to say anything to stem this touching enthusiasm.

“Seven – huh?” Starsky looked up from the armful of clothes, wide-eyed.

“I think you’ve gotten a bit carried away, there, partner.”

“What?” He looked at the clothes. “I think Uncle Sam can afford a week’s worth of shorts.”

Shaking his head, Hutch indicated down at the handful.

“No… I mean, you’re supposed to be shopping for-” He glanced at Tor, wondering how he was going to phrase this. Starsky just stared at him with no clue whatsoever.

“You’re supposed to be catering for your *daughter*,” Hutch muttered under his breath.

Starsky’s gaze dropped to the boxers in his hand. His eyes widened and he colored up. “Oh.”

Hutch grinned, despite the situation. Sure didn’t take much to turn his partner’s cheeks pink.

“That’s okay,” Tor reached over and snatched the underwear. “They’re fine.”

“But…” Starsky began.

“They’re okay, I tell you.”

Hutch watched in amusement as Tor started to blush, too. “Let’s just get outta here, okay?”

“Yeah.” Starsky nodded quickly and turned. He plunged through the rails in the opposite direction.

“C’mon, Tor,” Hutch bit his lip to keep from laughing out loud at his partner’s retreat. He patted his jacket and put his hand on Tor’s shoulder. “Let’s go spank Uncle Sam’s wallet.”

***

Using the store restrooms to change, Tor emerged after half an hour, looking like a different person in her new outfit. Hutch stared, quite amazed she managed to look human.

Starsky was slumped over a bench in long-suffering patience. Hutch wandered back from the health-food store and had blinked twice when he saw what his partner had changed into.

What was with the tight black ensemble, Hutch wondered? Starsky wasn’t usually a one for all-black outfits. He gave the other man a once-over and raised an eyebrow in question.

Starsky just shrugged, still draped dramatically over the bench like a martyr to commercialism.

“Felt like a change,” he grinned slyly. “Might say I ‘felt like a new man’,” he winked.

Hutch rolled his eyes.

“Well?” Tor walked over and glared.

Nodding, Starsky looked her up and down. “Yeah – looks cool.”

Looks cool, thought Hutch, but still looked like a boy. Short unruly hair, rinsed under the restroom faucet hung around her face in ringlets. Hutch smiled.

“You look just like your dad,” he said, waiting for one or the other to explode.

Tor frowned. She opened her mouth to say something, but just shrugged instead and scowled down at the floor.

Hutch was impressed at the self-control.

Starsky’s eyes narrowed. “Yeah, great — I’m touched. Now, d’you think we can eat, please? I’m dyin’ here.” He patted his stomach as he pulled it in.

His expression of pathetic pleading made Hutch smile. “Sure. What d’you fancy?”

“Burger.”

Both Starsky and Tor spoke at the same time. They looked and smiled shyly at one another.

“Double, with cheese, pickle and fries,” Tor said.

“Extra mustard and relish,” Starsky added.

Hutch sighed. Like father like daughter, indeed.

***

With drive-thro’ on their laps, they began the last leg of the journey to the safe house.

Starsky glanced at Tor. “Mind if I ride up front for a bit?”

Shrugging, she spoke to the window, without looking at him. “Suit yourself. I don’t need no babysitter.”

Easing over into the seat, Hutch watched him balance his food as he got comfortable.

“Okay, partner,” he said, rubbing his hands together. “Let’s rock and roll.”

Risking the occasional glance across, Hutch watched in fascination as Starsky inhaled his food.

He had always found something compulsive in watching the way his partner ate. He did it with gusto and such obvious enjoyment. “You’ll give yourself heartburn,” he said, smiling.

Starsky grinned. “Nah.” He held out a spray of fries and shoved them at Hutch’s mouth.

There was no choice but to open up and receive the food. Hutch chewed, chasing the greasy salt across his lips.

“Good, huh?” Starsky grinned.

Hutch swallowed and shrugged. “Okay, I guess, for a coronary in a take-out bag.”

Starsky laughed and shoved another bunch of fries between Hutch’s lips. “Beats toad tongues and tofu, huh?”

“Oh my God-” Tor made retching noises from the back seat. “Do you two fairies have to do that shit?”

Starsky glanced back. “Watch your mouth kid,” he growled. “Or I’ll be squirtin’ dish-soap in there when we get to the cabin.”

Tor pulled a face at him and went back to staring out of the window. Starsky looked at the expression on Hutch’s face.

“What?”

Hutch gave him a pained look.

Starsky’s eyes widened. “Didn’t your Mama ever have to-“

Hutch winced. “No, Starsk. She didn’t.”

Starsky sighed. “Oh. Just me, then.” He sighed. “Dish soap was better than washin’ soap, I can tell ya,” he muttered.

The warmth of the car, the soft rock on the radio and the long, flat roads were hypnotic.

Conversation had dwindled, and checking the rear-view, Hutch saw that Tor was fast asleep, head lolling to one side.

He smiled. Not so tough, after all.

Turning to whisper to Starsky, he was startled to see the other man flopped back with his head against the rest, eyes shut.

Sleeping, or just resting? Hutch couldn’t tell.

At the next straight bit of road, he took the opportunity to snatch long glances at his partner, enjoying the opportunity of observing the other man in a moment of stillness.

Quiet moments like these didn’t happen often in David Starsky’s universe.

He admitted his partner looked good — he was a striking, if not classically handsome man, and black suited him. Actually, white suited him, too. In fact, apart from a particular nasty shirt he’d worn once, Hutch didn’t think he’d seen him in anything that didn’t suit his partner.

But, blue. He liked Starsky best in blue.

Damn.

Hutch sighed and returned his eyes to the road. Crazy, this was just about absolutely fucking crazy.

If he survived this assignment, he was going to book time off and damn well go on holiday somewhere, see if he couldn’t get laid.

He smiled to himself.

That sounded like a plan.

 

Chapter 5

“I get this room,” Tor called, throwing her rucksack through the door. Following it inside, she slammed the door shut.

“You checked it out?” Hutch asked, nodding at the closed door.

“Uh-huh,” Starsky nodded, unloading the heavier bags on the sofa. “Locked window. One door, one bed. It’s kinda small. I don’t think she can get up to any trouble in there.”

“Okay.”

Grabbing his bag, Hutch ran his hand through his hair. He was tired, out of sorts and cranky. He could do with a long bath, a cup of herbal tea and an early night.

Several long hours spent in a warm car, the relentless, after-nap bickering between Starsky and his mini-nemesis had worn away at his nerves.

Never mind the argument they’d had with the caretaker of the place because they were two hours past check-in time. He’d been ‘this’ close to shooting the officious little twerp between his piggy little eyes.

He turned to tell Starsky how close he’d come to murder at the gates, but found his voice stilled by the sight of the other man bending over the arm of the sofa as he sorted through his bag.

Mother of God…Those jeans were so tight they had to be cutting off his circulation. How the hell the man could fit underwear underneath them was beyond him.

Hutch dragged his mouth closed, blinking rapidly, trying to erase the sight. He stared at a cheap rural print on the wall. He was not going to go there. He didn’t have a problem with the scenario they had been given to enact, but there was a line that was not going to be crossed, and staring at his partner’s ass was dangerously near that line.

He cleared his throat. “I can’t face unpacking tonight, Starsk. I think I’m going to just get my stuff sorted and take a bath.”

He glanced quickly over at Starsky again. “That okay?”

“Sure. I’ll hit the shower after you.”

To Hutch’s distress, his mind did a slow-motion video show in his head of Starsky, standing naked in the shower, soaking wet and dripping.

Hutch swallowed and tried to press the ‘stop’ button in his head, but only succeeded in hitting ‘pause’ as the visual of his partner was running a soapy hand over his chest.

Goddamnit, they’d shared showers for years without there being a glimmer of anything untoward — so why now was he getting the adult channel fed directly into his brain?

He needed to book that vacation – soon.

Starsky emerged from the depths of his bag clutching a paperback, completely innocent of what was currently lodged on the screen of Hutch’s mind.

“I’ll make us a drink. Whadd’ya fancy?”

Hutch cleared his throat. “Oh, anything — tea or whatever. I’m going to-” he coughed. “Put my things in my bedroom.”

“You comin’ down with a cold?” Starsky asked, frowning. “You’re coughin’ an awful lot.”

“No.” Hutch shook his head, erasing a soapy picture. “Just dry throat, I guess.”

He grabbed his bag and turned away, then stopped, standing in front of Tor’s bedroom, gazing at the other door between that and the bathroom.

Oh… shit.

Hutch looked at the door, back at Tor’s door and then slowly turned back to look at Starsky.

There was only one other bedroom.

“What?” Starsky asked, seeing the look on his face.

Hutch opened his mouth, hoping he could keep his voice steady. “There’s only-” Nope. It cracked. He coughed and tried again. “There’s only one b-bedroom.”

“Oh, yeah?” Starsky moved to stand next to his partner, oblivious to any subtext, not sounding the least bit bothered. He reached out and turned the handle. “Wonder if it’s got twin beds?”

The door swung open to reveal- Oh, wouldn’t you just know it? One double bed. God had a very twisted sense of humor, Hutch thought.

“Oh, well,” Starsky said. “I’ll take the couch. No problem.”

Hutch watched as the other man moved into the lounge and looked down at the sofa. There was no way, with the best will in the world, that sofa was going to hold Starsky. It was all of four feet long, and not especially wide.

“No. You can’t fit on there.” Hutch bit back a sigh. “I’ll take the armchair. You have the bed.”

Tor’s door banged open. “There’s a fuckin’ big spider on the wall, and the closet smells like shit.”

Both men stared at her.

“What?” She threw her hands up. “You said no swearing in public. You never said nothin’ about in private.”

She had a point, Hutch thought. Besides, he wasn’t in the mood to argue the finer points of socially acceptable behavior with anyone right at that moment.

“Whatever-” he snapped. “Throw the spider outside, it won’t hurt you. And the closet won’t smell if you leave the door open a while.”

Stomping over to the minuscule couch, he tipped Starsky’s bag off and glared down at it.

Behind, Tor sighed. “What’s with him? Time of the month?”

Hutch opened his mouth to let rip with blistering attack on the girl, but stopped at a faint touch. He looked down to see Starsky’s hand on his arm.

“He’s just not impressed by the sleeping arrangements. Leave him be,” the other man said.

Tor snorted and glanced inside the other room. “I’m not surprised. He gets to share a bed with you.”

“What’s wrong with that?” Starsky asked, sounding both amused and offended.

Tor snorted again. “You probably stink and snore like some big old pig.”

Starsky laughed. “I do not.”

“Yeah?”

He shook his head. “No-one’s complained so far.”

“Yeah, well,” Tor was relentless. “Maybe he’s afraid you’ll jump his bones, or somethin’.”

Hutch’s head jerked up. He looked from Tor’s disgusted face to Starsky’s pink-tinged one.

“Tor…” Starsky began, the color rising in his face. “We’re police officers — this is a job. We don’t have a problem sharing. And besides, we’re not a couple ‘like that’.”

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever.”

Starsky sighed. “We’re just pretending for the operation. Not real life,” he finished, lamely.

“If you say so.” Tor shrugged and wandered into the kitchen. “Dunno if I’d feel safe sleeping in the same bed as you, though.”

Starsky stared after her, mouth open, cheeks blazing. “Damn…” he muttered. He ran a hand through his curls, refusing to turn around and look at Hutch.

“Starsk-” Hutch said, after the silence stretched long enough to embarrass them both.

He reached up to rub the back of his hot neck, looking for the words in his suddenly empty mind.

“She’s wrong, you know,” he said at last.

Starsky remained where he stood, his hand still parked in his hair as if gripping on for dear life. “Howszat?”

Hutch opened his mouth and spoke easily. It seemed the words had been there all along. “This isn’t a problem at all. I trust you.”

Picking up his bag, he walked towards the bedroom. He wondered why the hell he felt he should have to say that out loud, after all the years of bunking in with his partner.

He dropped his bag on large bed in the room.

Footsteps stopped at the door. Hutch didn’t bother to turn around as Starsky spoke.

“You sure?” he asked.

Hutch smiled. “Yeah. It’s not a problem.”

“Well,” Starsky stepped nearer. “If you’re absolutely sure?”

“It’s not a problem, Starsk. But I get the right hand side, yeah?”

Starsky smiled back. “Fair enough. And I promise not t’snore.”

“Okay – and I promise not to run my tongue all over your body just to see what you taste like.”

Hutch snapped his mouth shut and stared at his partner, completely horrified. He could not believe what he had just said.

Neither could Starsky, by the look on his face. Hutch had absolutely no idea what was going on inside his partner’s head; and that unnerved him almost as much as what he’d just said.

Starsky suddenly laughed loudly. He shook his head. “Dope,” he said affectionately.

He rubbed his hands together. “‘Kay, now that’s settled – you go take that bath an’ I’ll get busy in the kitchen.”

Hutch’s eyes followed that black-clad body as it turned to strut out the room, wondering which was freakier – what he’d said; or that Starsky hadn’t punched his lights out for saying it.

 

Chapter 6

The bath had been a great idea. Just what he needed.

He’d had the foresight to bring some of his favorite shower gel with him, and the scent of sandlewood had helped soak the tension out of his body.

Sighing contentedly, he reached in to pull the plug out, helping the water away with a swish of his hand.

Despite the tension that was thrumming through his body, he had resisted the urge to relieve himself with a spot of self-abuse. The bath had been a favorite venue for stress-relieving masturbation for years – he supposed it was for everyone. But tonight he just couldn’t bring himself to even attempt it.

Not with Starsky puttering about on the other side of the wall.

In the past he hadn’t been above throwing one off the wrist with his partner had been in the same building, but somehow it seemed wrong this time.

A knock at the door made him jump guiltily. “You still alive in there?” Starsky yelled.

“Just coming,” he shouted back, smiling hugely at his choice of words. He shook his hand off, wiping it dry on a towel and gathered his clothes up.

He paused.

He was about to walk out of the bathroom in just his boxers.

He didn’t think to bring his robe. Damn – was it appropriate to walk around like this with a child in the house?

“Come on, fat-ass, get your wrinkled ass outta the tub – I need to take a piss!”

Hutch’s eyebrows shot up. Charming – that child’s mouth needed a short, sharp visit from that dish soap very soon.

“Do you really need to-” he started to say as he emerged into the living area.

“God! You took your own sweet fu…”

The bathroom door slammed shut on the rest of the sentence. Hutch stared at the door, wondering who they’d pissed off in the DEA to get this assignment.

“Chocolate’s ready.”

Hutch turned. “What?”

“I thought we needed to go with comfort, after today.”

Hutch grunted. “Yeah. You’re probably right. Got any horse tranquilizer to throw in there?”

Starsky laughed. “I wish. Prob’ly hafta just go with the handcuffs and a gag.”

“Don’t tempt me,” he muttered. Holding up his pile of clothes he nodded at the bedroom. “Won’t be a second.”

He went into the room and dumped the clothes down on the BED. Without permission, his mind gave the word capitals, poking fun at him.

He ran a hot hand over his face. This was just ridiculous. Sharing with Starsky was not a problem. Hadn’t been in the past, wasn’t going to be a problem now, he told himself.

He sighed and went out into the other room.

“I didn’t do you a mallow one – I know how you feel about it in cocoa.”

Hutch smiled, thinly. “Thanks.” He took the proffered mug, trying not to flinch as their fingertips touched.

“Looks like you’re going to have to wait for your shower.” He nodded at the locked bathroom.

Starsky shrugged. “That’s okay. I’m not sleepy, yet, anyway. Hey, I took a tour of the perimeter while you were soaking,” Starsky said, pausing to sip his drink.

Hutch was instantly contrite. “Oh, god, I’m sorry, Starsk – I didn’t think. I left it all up to you, didn’t I?” He clucked in his throat. “That was selfish of me.”

Starsky replied with a shrug and his typical wide-toothed grin, making Hutch feel worse.

“No problemo. You did all the drivin’. Fair’s-fair.”

“Only because I didn’t *let* you drive,” Hutch said, grinning sheepishly round his mug.

“Yeah, I kinda noticed that.”

They drank their cocoa in comfortable silence.

Once or twice, Hutch risked a glance over at where his partner was sitting on the easy chair.

He’d taken off his trainers, revealing thick red socks that twitched as he wiggled his toes occasionally. He seemed utterly relaxed. Hutch envied that. He was as nervous as a virgin in a prison yard, and that pissed him off no end, because there was no good reason for it.

He cleared his throat.

“You sure you’re okay?” Starsky asked again.

“Um… Fine, thank you. It’s just a bad habit I’ve gotten into.”

“Oh.”

Starsky went back to sipping his drink.

A little voice nagging in the white noise inside Hutch’s head insisted he was being too quiet — he should make conversation.

He shook his head a little. Jeez, he was acting like this was a date, or something. This was nothing of the sort.

“This is really good,” he said as a concession to the silence.

Starsky nodded. “One of my specialties.”

“Oh yes? And how do you class hot chocolate as a specialty? One just adds hot milk. How hard can that be?”

Starsky grinned, shaking his head. “Oh, but I have secret ingredients.”

Hutch snorted into the steam. “Like?”

“If I told you I’d have to kill you.”

You’re already killing me, Hutch thought absently, as he watched Starsky stretch his arms backwards, yawning. The tee shirt pulled tight across his sculpted body. A strip of skin appeared at his belt

Hutch made his eyes slide away. “Thought you weren’t tired?”

“Guess I lied.”

“Long journeys finish me off, as well.”

Starsky grunted. “I should be wide awake. I had a little nap.”

“I noticed.”

He grinned sheepishly. “I thought I’d gotten away with it.”

“Uh-uh. Busted.”

“Guess that’s why you’re a detective.”

Laughing softly, Hutch shook his head. “And I thought you told Tor you didn’t snore?”

Starsky’s eyes widened. “I don’t!”

Smiling, but admitting nothing, Hutch merely looked at him.

“No…” Starsky frowned, looking vaguely embarrassed. “I didn’t, did I?” His hand came up to scratch at an ear. “Damn. I’m sorry.” His eyebrows wrinkled up, giving him a kicked-puppy look..

Hutch shook his head, unable to maintain. “You don’t snore, Starsk. I’m teasing.”

“Yeah?”

“Sorry. Couldn’t resist it.”

Starsky laughed, unexpectedly. “You got me.” He shook his head, still smiling. “Guess I’m just too touchy.” He stretched again. “Damn case,” he muttered.

The bathroom door banged open. Starsky looked up. “Hey – you want any more chocolate before you go to bed, Tor?”

They watched the look of disgust cross the girl’s face.

“Bed? You gotta be kiddin’! It’s still early.”

Starsky checked his watch. “I don’t call half past ten ‘early’.”

“Well I do.” She padded through to the lounge area. Jumping the back of the sofa, she landed beside Hutch, almost tipping his drink over.

“Hey!” Hutch scowled.

“Yeah?” Tor just stared, grinning. She looked his bare chest up and down and raised an eyebrow.

Hutch felt himself squirm. He resisted the urge to cover himself up and just glared right back at her.

Starsky leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Bed.”

Tor looked over at him. “Nope.”

“Yes.”

“You’re not…”

Starsky’s finger came up. “What have you been told? You never know who’s listenin’.”

Tor rolled her eyes. “Oh, get outta here! Who the hell’s gonna be listening in this shit hole?”

Hutch put his mug down. “Look. Just do as you’re asked, for a change, will you? Go to bed.”

Folding her arms, Tor pouted. “No.”

Starsky rolled his eyes and stood up. “Tell you what, Tor. You can either go to your room and get into bed under your own steam, or you can be carried there and thrown in.”

He held his hands up. “Your choice, sweetheart.”

“You wouldn’t fuckin’ dare,” she snapped, glaring.

“Try me,” he said, staring right back at her.

“I’ll report you.”

“Oh yeah? To the bedtime police?”

Hutch tried to hide the smile. He wondered how Starsky got so good at this.

“I’m not tired.”

“I don’t care. Go lie and stare at the ceiling.”

“I hate you.”

He shrugged. “Again – I don’t care.” He stepped closer to where she was sitting cross-legged. “What’s it gonna be, kid?”

Hutch wondered if his partner dared carry out his threat. He was on dodgy ground, really, threatening to lay hands on a minor.

He watched as Starsky folded his arms, his pose emphasizing the similarities between them. Hutch smothered a grin. Whoever matched these two up as related was right on the money.

“Well…?” Starsky demanded.

“Fuck off,” Tor told him.

“Suit yourself,” Starsky suddenly bent down and grabbed her by the upper arms. He heaved her up to his shoulder and flung her backwards.

“HEY!” Legs dangling, Tor squealed and thrashed. “GET OFFA ME!”

“You made your choice, girl,” Starsky growled, walking over to the bedroom. Tor wriggled and yelled.

Hutch covered his mouth with a hand. Wouldn’t go down well to be caught laughing at the whole thing. But, Lord help him – it was funny. He got up from the sofa and wandered after the parade to keep an eye on them, in case blood got spilled.

“Get-your-stinkin’-hands-off…” Each of Tor’s words were cut off as Starsky took a step nearer the bedroom.

“Oh, quit ya yappin’,” Starsky grunted, trying to keep her flailing legs from kickin him in the teeth.

“I’m-gonna-fuckin’-report-you…”

“Yeah… Yeah…” Pausing above her bed, Starsky took her by the waist. “Tell it to the judge,” he said, then heaved her up and threw her bodily onto the bed.

Hutch watched Tor’s shocked face as she bounced several times, arms and legs whipping in all directions.

Bet that knocked the wind out of her, he thought.

“You-BAS-tard!” she yelled with each bounce.

Starsky stood, hands on his hips, looking amused. “If you say so,” he said. Shrugging and turning to Hutch he nodded. “I think I made my point,” he smiled.

As he held his hand out to usher his partner from the room, Hutch caught sight of a fire-truck red missile flying through the air.

“Hey!” he began, but the moment was lost, as Tor landed smack between Starsky’s shoulder blades, driving him to his knees.

“Bastard!” she yelled, pummeling his back with her fists, each blow sounding a dull thud as it landed. Off-balance, Starsky fell forward onto his stomach, grunting as the air was driven from him.

“TOR!” Hutch shouted, stepping forward to try and grab an arm. “Stop it!”

“Pervert!” Tor screamed, flailing away furiously. “Goddamned, fuckin’ PERV!”

Trying to grab a flying fist, Hutch got a whack in the cheek that made his eyes water. He stepped back, shaking his head. Damn child. He had a good mind to-

Starsky was beginning to wriggle over from his stomach, fending off the small fists, making use of his greater body mass to dislodge Tor from his back.

“QUIT IT!” he bellowed, making Hutch jump.

Tor ignored him. “I-hate-you-I-hate-you-I-HATE-you!” she chanted, punctuating her words with a punch from her fists.

Scowling, his hands caught up in warding off the attack, Starsky growled through clenched teeth. “I ain’t too fond of you, either!” He pushed her hands away.

Freed, Tor scrambled to get to her knees. She misjudged her balance and one of her knees came up sharply to land solidly right between Starsky’s legs.

Tor stopped moving, Hutch stopped yelling and Starsky simply stopped breathing.

Two pairs of eyes stared, both anticipating an explosion as Starsky lay on the floor, arms rigid, mouth open and face rapidly turning a nasty shade of puce.

Oh, fuck – that’d gotta hurt, Hutch thought, wincing.

“I… er…” Tor said, scrambling backwards and off the splayed legs.

There was moment of exquisite silence, and then a thin keening noise began somewhere in Starsky’s throat. Keening turned into groaning, and finally, in a very slow and gentle rollover, Starsky curled into a fetal position, his hands wedged between his legs.

Tor backed away, her face pale.

Hutch knelt down and touched a rigid shoulder.

“Starsky…” he began, then stopped. Asking if his partner was okay seemed rather redundant, as he was clearly anything but.

The horrible noise drained away, leaving a heavy silence, punctuated only by harsh breathing from the curled-up man on the floor.

“Starsky…” Hutch squeezed the shoulder, working his fingers into the rigid muscles. “Can I get you something? Advil, maybe?” He remembered his own experience with kicks in the nuts and winced again. “Ice pack?”

Starsky shook his head, his face still tightly screwed up. No,” he whispered. “Thank you.”

After a few minutes of lying in a miserable heap, Starsky began to unfurl himself very, very carefully. Hutch let go and watched the man gather himself up into a sitting position.

The blue eyes opened. They looked red and watery.

Hutch peered into them.

“The pain receding?” he asked gently, putting his hand to the other man’s back, rubbing slowly.

Starsky nodded. “A bit.” Not his usual strong voice, but then a knee in the balls would do that to a man.

Hutch didn’t know if his hand was making his partner feel any better, but it felt good from his point of view, so he continued rubbing.

“Okay?” he asked as Starsky brought his hands out from where they’d been cupping his crotch.

“Yeah.” He took a deep breath and gingerly got to his knees, a harsh breath whistling out from between his teeth. “Oh, man.”

Hutch let him make his way out into the lounge at his own pace. Slow and carefully.

Glancing behind to where Tor stood in a corner of the room, Hutch gave the girl a stern look.

“Go to bed,” he said, firmly.

Not waiting for a reply, he pulled the door shut and went to join Starsky on the sofa.

“You want to throw up?” he asked, sitting carefully.

Starsky laughed harshly. “Not any more, but it was a close thing, for a moment.”

“I’ll bet.”

Hutch watched a more normal color return to the other man’s face. He’d gone from puce to ivory and was now hovering somewhere around oyster.

“I think it was an accident, you know,” he said, eventually.

Starsky looked up. “Yeah?”

“You didn’t see the look on her face when she realized what she’d done.”

“I was too busy lookin’ at the inside of my eyelids.”

“I should think so…” Hutch trailed off. He stared into Starsky’s eyes, helplessly trying to conjure the right words for what he needed to ask.

“What?” Starsky said, frowning at the scrutiny.

“I… erm…”

Mentally, Hutch rolled his eyes. Oh, way to go, Ken. Stumble like a dork over your words and embarrass both of you. “What I mean, is… If you think there m-might be some d-damage…”

He watched his partner change color.

“No- it’s okay!” Starsky cringed back into the couch. “I’m fine. It’s just a little knock, that’s all.”

The sudden mental picture of looking between his partner’s legs sent a rush of heat to Hutch’s face that he didn’t have the words to explain. He cleared his throat instead.

“Okay.”

Starsky flinched as Hutch laid his hand briefly on his thigh. “If you’re sure?”

“Oh, yeah…Yeah.” Starsky stood up quicker than Hutch would have thought possible.

“I’ll live. Won’t be comfortable for a while, but you know how it is.”

He laughed shakily. “I’ll just go get that shower, I’ll be fine.” He backed away, as if he expected Hutch to pounce on him and drag his pants off.

Smiling, despite his own embarrassment, Hutch nodded. “Okay, then. You go shower. I’ll lock up and turn in.”

“Sure, okay.” Scuttling into the bathroom like a spider with broken legs, Starsky disappeared.

Hutch shook his head, the smile turning into a wider grin, thinking of what was going on behind that locked bathroom door. A tentative examination and some very gentle soaping, no doubt.

Double-locking the front and kitchen doors, he pulled the drapes across the door and wandered over to the bedroom.

He pulled his lower lip between his teeth and stared at the BED.

 

Chapter 7

Lying on his back, staring at the moonlit ceiling, Hutch sighed for the thousandth time and wondered how he was going to handle this.

No. Wait… He wasn’t going to ‘handle’ anything. That was the point.

He sighed yet again and pulled the covers up to his chin. He’d have packed his biggest pj’s if he’d know he’d be sharing. Perhaps he should get up and pull on a tee shirt?

The bathroom door clicked open and the light shone through into the bedroom.

Hutch closed his eyes briefly and prayed he could get through this without embarrassing himself.

A damp, curly head poked in. “You still awake?” he whispered.

Hutch momentarily toyed with the idea of playing possum, but he didn’t think for a moment he’d be able to carry it off.

“Yeah. I’m awake,” he sighed.

“Sorry. Did I wake you?”

Hutch shook his head, then realizing Starsky probably couldn’t see all the way over to the bed in the dark, answered him. “No. You didn’t. I was just lying here, studying the ceiling.”

Coming all the way into the room clutching clothes, he saw Starsky’s teeth appear in a moonlight grin.

“Yeah. Strange bed. Know whatcha mean.”

Still wearing his black tee shirt, he padded over to the window and draped his jeans over the chair back, throwing his socks on the floor.

Hutch snapped his eyes away. He’d seen those legs plenty of times before, there was absolutely no need to look now.

“You sure you’re okay with this?” Starsky asked again, standing at the edge of the bed.

“Oh, just get in,” Hutch sighed. If he stopped to think about it, he’d get up and run from the room.

“Okay… as long as you’re…’

“I’m sure, Starsk, for goodness sake! We’ve done this countless times. I trust you, okay?”

His partner grunted and turned back the edge of the covers. “Weird all of a sudden, or what?” he said, sliding into the bed.

“You have no idea,” Hutch muttered.

The bed dipped crazily to one side.

Hutch could feel his body being pulled to the one side with Starsky’s extra weight as the warmth of another body seeped beneath the covers.

Starsky fidgeted a bit, then lay still on his back. Then fidgeted some more.

Hutch rolled his eyes. The wriggling going to drive him nuts – he just knew it. He’d never get a wink of sleep.

Starsky squirmed again.

Sighing, Hutch turned to look at him. “Is something wrong, Starsk?”

Blue eyes peered at him in the darkness. “No.”

“Liar,” Hutch replied.

“No… it’s fine, everythin’s fine.” Starsky smiled and then went back to staring at the ceiling.

Hutch closed his eyes and tried to relax. He tried to count sheep in his head.

He got to seventy-three before Starsky fidgeting put him off. The other man wasn’t usually this restless at bedtime.

Heaving a heartfelt sigh, Hutch turned his head. “What is it?!”

“Nothing,” came the reply, those eyes still staring upwards.

A sudden thought occurred. Hutch frowned. “Are you still in pain?”

Starsky’s head snapped round. “No. Really. I’m fine.”

“Are you sure? Because I have some pain meds-“

“No, honestly, thanks. I’m okay.” He paused, then sighed. “It’s just…”

“What?”

Starsky shook his head. “Nothing.”

Hutch gritted his teeth. “What?”

“It’s nothing. Go to sleep, partner.”

“I’m trying to. But someone keeps flapping the covers and thrashing about like a maniac.”

Hutch tried to keep the snip out of his voice, he really did. But he was sure the tension of the moment colored his voice.

“Sorry.”

“What’s the matter?” He sighed. “Is it me? Is it this – the case?” he said, waving his hand above the covers. “Is it us?”

“No…God, no, sharin’ with you s’okay, you should know that.” Starsky looked genuinely sincere. Hutch could see the whites flash in the moonlight as the other man rolled his eyes. “I just don’t usually…”

“Pretend you’re my lover?” Hutch grunted. “Tell me about it.”

That got a gentle laugh out of the other man. “No. Yeah…” He sighed “Oh, that don’t bother me none. But it’s just-“

Hutch forced himself to speak calmly. “Just what?”

Starsky gave a pout that Hutch could see even in the dim light. “It’s jus’ that I don’t normally wear a shirt in bed. An’ it’s drivin’ me nuts.”

“Oh…”

Visions of them both lying half naked in the bed slammed into Hutch’s mind.

First instinct was to scream and run, second was to cough and clear his throat again, but instead, he shrugged and tried to use a normal voice, desperately grateful his partner couldn’t see the color his face had gone.

“So take it off. Then maybe we can get some sleep.” God, he was proud of the way that came out. Just the right side of exasperation and impatience.

“Great, thanks, man.”

As if he’d been desperate to do something about it, Starsky sat up suddenly and pulled his shirt off over his head and tossed it on the floor.

“That’s better,” he smiled.

It sure was, Hutch thought and then instantly panicked as the blood from his face rushed south to lie uncomfortably in his crotch.

Where the hell did that thought come from? He swallowed, willing his body to quit betraying him. He slowly turned his head to look at his bed-mate, wondering if the other man could hear the creak of his rigid neck.

Starsky was lying on the pillow, his hair all mussed and messy, one hand tucked under his chin like a little kid. He looked relaxed and happy, and Hutch could just reach over and smack him for it.

Starsky didn’t seem the least bit bothered with the lack of clothing between them.

“Please tell me you’re keeping the shorts on?” Hutch begged, before he could stop himself.

Starsky laughed with delight and, wiggled his eyebrows. “Oh, yeah. They ain’t comin’ off.”

“Thank goodness,” Hutch muttered, gazing across a pillow to those incredible eyes.

Starsky leaned over altogether too close and whispered: “Not unless you ask me very, very nicely, a’course.”

Hutch groaned and brought his hands out to scrub at his face. “Not in this fuckin’ lifetime,” he muttered, his atypical profanity making Starsky snicker and snort in delight.

Hutch rolled over right to the edge of the mattress and curled up into a ball, not sure which he hated more, the crippling self-awareness or the lie.

 

Chapter 8

It was the strange smell of the sheets that woke him. That and hair tickling the skin under his nose.

The feel of another’s breath on his shoulder and the feeling of a heavy knee hooked over his leg shocked Hutch awake. His eyes shot open like roller-blinds on a Roadrunner cartoon.

What the hell??

Forcing his sleep-drugged eyes to focus, he peered down. Coils of dark hair poked up from his shoulder, tickling his nose.

The whole scenario rushed in and slapped him in the face.

He was in bed with Starsky. Not only in bed, but snug and wrapped around each other.

The thought rolled around inside his head before coming to a stop and taking root.

Hutch took a deep breath, inhaling the other man’s scent, the heavy head on his chest weighing him down. He ain’t heavy, he thought with a small grin, adjusting the weight slightly. It was kinda nice having his partner snuggled up with him.

Starsky grunted in his sleep and cuddled closer.

Pulling in a sharp breath, Hutch realized he was nursing a considerable hard-on. Not unusual, first thing in the morning, of course, but throwing wood while snuggled up in bed with his partner would take some explaining.

He tried to gather himself and get control over his body, using the years of experience he possessed for willing away inconvenient erections.

He amused himself with thoughts of ice baths, police regulations and the hairy old woman who served behind the deli back home, while considering that he ought to be seriously freaked out by his situation.

Getting a raging hard-on by cuddling up to your male work mate wasn’t something most guys would be happy with. But actually, he admitted, this *was* kinda nice, lying all warm and toasty next to his best friend. He breathed in the warm scent of Starsky’s hair again and sighed gently, content.

The knee moved and Hutch tucked the smile away.

“Good mornin’,” he said as the messy head lifted. His hard-on was fading, thank goodness.

Out of screwed-up eyes, Starsky regarded the other man blearily. Hutch watched as the leaky pipe of realization dripped through to his partner’s brain.

Oh…” Starsky said, pulling his head up to look properly. “G’mornin’.”

The knee that had been resting on Hutch’s leg slid off carefully. “Sorry,” Starsky said, looking sheepish as he rolled away.

As he slid across the sheets back to his own side, Hutch prayed that Starsky hadn’t felt the evidence of his early morning erection.

“S’okay.”

Hutch rubbed his face, pausing to glance down his shoulder. “And using me as a pillow’s okay, too.”

Starsky peered where he’d been resting his head. He reached a finger out from under the sheets and poked the skin.

“Uh-huh.”

Hutch stared at that probing finger. “What are you doing?”

Starsky grinned “I was just checkin’ to see if I drooled on you.”

“Eeew!!” Hutch grimaced and pulled his shoulder away. “Gross!”

It was dry. He scowled at Starsky’s laughing face.

Unable to maintain his annoyance, he grinned too. “You wait. My turn, tomorrow.”

Hutch felt himself flush with warmth at that thought.

“Fair enough,” Starsky nodded, stretching and running his hands through his hair.

Hutch watched the play of muscles beneath Starsky’s skin, openly enjoying how they stretched and flexed under the dusting of hair.

“I said… Whaddya want for breakfast?”

Shit! Hutch pretended to make a dig deal about considering the options before replying.

“Um… I think just… Maybe toast, perhaps?”

“You sure about that?” Starsky asked, smiling slightly. “I’m sure I could dash outside and rustle up something natural from the forest.”

“Fuck off,” Hutch said, swearing for the second time in short succession and hating himself for it.

“Wow, you’re really not a morning-person, are you, babe?”

“No. Yes, I mean sometimes. I just didn’t sleep real well, last night,” he lied.

Starsky’s brow creased. “Did I keep ya awake?”

Hutch felt a snick of guilt. “No, not really. Just first night in a strange bed. Y’know?”

Starsky nodded. “Yeah. I hear ya.” Yawning, he scratched his chest. Hutch’s eyes flickered down to watch for a second, before sliding away.

“I’ll go get started on breakfast.”

“You sure?” Hutch picked at the sheet, feigning interest in a speck of lint. His woody had perked up again. He was desperate not to have to get out of bed. “You made the supper.”

Starsky chuckled. “A mug of cocoa? Get real. Besides-” he said, flinging the covers back, and swinging his legs over the side of the bed. “I feel bad ’cause I slept great.”

He stood up, giving Hutch a birds-eye view of his brief-clad ass.

He turned suddenly, making his partner jump, guiltily.

“Just toast?”

“Yes, thank you. That’d be great.” Hutch forced himself to keep his eyes on Starsky’s face.

“Okey-dokey.”

Wandering over to his tee shirt, he shrugged it back on and padded across the bedroom. “Won’t be long.”

Then he was gone. And with a groan and a sigh, Hutch threw his arms above his head to keep himself from touching the raging erection that stubbornly failed to subside.

He wished he’d gone ahead and had that orgasm last night, because he could damn well do with one now.

***

The smell of toast and coffee dragged him up and into the lounge. It was either get up and see what he could do to help, or lie in bed and be sorely tempted to jerk off.

But the way his luck was going lately, Starsky’d probably walk in half way through.

“Hi,” he said, wandering into the kitchenette.

Starsky turned slightly. “Hey. Thought you were gonna lie in?”

“Restless,” Hutch admitted, enjoying the sight of his partner at the cooker.

“Okay.” He pointed with a spatula. “You could set up the table for me.”

“Sure.”

Wandering through the well-stocked cupboards, Hutch hunted down three of everything and set the table. Starsky hummed to himself as he stirred what smelled like eggs and bacon.

Hutch smiled as he set up the utensils. Weren’t they just the epitome of domesticity?

A movement caught his eye, and he turned to see Tor hovering in the doorway.

“Good morning,” he said. “Did you sleep well?”

The girl nodded, not coming any closer.

Starsky moved to the table to put plates down. “Hey,” he said, glancing up. “I cooked you bacon, eggs and toast. I figured you can just take whatcha want.” He slid into one of the chairs and picked up the ketchup.

Hutch selected some toast and began to spread butter. What the hell – his arteries could fur-up for one week.

Eventually, he noticed the empty chair. He looked up. “Tor? Come and eat. It’s gonna get cold.”

Tor just stared at his from the edge of the door, her bottom lip held between her teeth.

Hutch looked across to Starsky and raised his eyebrows.

Starsky shoved a mouthful of food to one side and swallowed. “Hey —c’mon. Eat up while it’s hot. Cold eggs stink.” He pointed at the untouched plate.

Very slowly, Tor made her way into the kitchen area. She slid into the seat as if greased.

Hutch tried not to be too obvious in his scrutiny of the teen, but he couldn’t help but note the way she picked at her food and kept glancing over at Starsky.

His partner was totally oblivious to the attention, shoveling his eggs and bacon down his throat as if starved. Hutch smiled round a bite of toast and shook his head.

“Hungry?” he asked as the final bit of bacon disappeared down the sculptured throat.

Starsky looked up questioningly, fork poised. “Huh?”

“I asked if you were hungry.”

Pausing as he chewed, Hutch watched him think about that for a second. He swallowed and shook his head.

“I guess so,” he said slowly. “Aren’t you?”

Hutch shrugged. “Clearly not to the same extent.”

Starsky looked down at his plate, then back up, a slightly chagrined look on his face.

“Rushin’ it again.” He sighed and grinned. “Drives ya nuts, huh?”

“Not good for your digestion,” Hutch smiled.

“Uh-huh. I know.” He leaned back in his chair, running a hand through

messy hair. He smirked. “But it’s my only failing.”

Snorting, Hutch took more toast. “Yeah. Right. You keep telling yourself that.” He grinned.

“Is so,” Starsky insisted, wiping his plate with a crust of bread. “Hell, Can’t be gorgeous and smart without havin’ somethin’ for you to get bent all outta shape over.”

“If you say so, dear.”

Starsky spread h is hands. “Hey, I’m good enough for you to sleep with, so I can’t be all bad.”

Hutch laughed out loud. A long line of replies to that sprang to mind, but mindful of the young company, he refrained. He glanced over at the silent teenager. The girl was still

darting glances across the table, perched on her seat like it was too hot.

What was going through her mind, Hutch wondered?

As if suddenly afraid of malnutrition, Starsky’s hand swooped across the table towards the toast rack.

And with a clatter, Tor leaped back, knocking her chair over.

Starsky’s mouth dropped open, his hand suspended in mid-air.

Hutch put his mug down and stared.

Tor looked back at the pair of them, one then the other and slowly her face pinked up.

She stood, fork dangling from her hand, shuffling from one foot to the other.

“Sorry-” she muttered and reached behind to retrieve her chair. “Sorry.”

Hutch frowned and looked at Starsky. The other man widened his eyes and gave a ‘who the hell knows’ look and took his toast back to his plate.

The three of them sat in silence, the chink of cutlery and the crunch of toast the only sound.

Eventually, Starsky pushed his chair back and stood. Hutch was intrigued to see Tor flinch.

“I’m goin’ ta hit the shower,” Starsky announced, bending fingers back to pop the knuckles. “Won’t be long.”

He started to clear the table.

“Leave it,” Hutch told him. “You cooked. I’ll clean.”

“You sure?”

“Go.”

“You had a shower, last night,” Tor said, staring at him, eyes wide.

Starsky looked down. “You checkin’ up on me?” he teased.

Tor blushed. “No. I’m just sayin’. I mean – how dirty can you be after one night, for God’s sake?”

Starsky grinned and winked at Hutch.

Tor caught the wink and her face screwed up in a grimace. “Oh, my God.” She held her hands over her ears. “No, God — shit! I don’t wanna know. Ewww!”

Starsky brayed with laughter and clapped Hutch on the back hard enough to make his eyes water as he strutted towards the bathroom.

Giving the other man a poisonous look as he disappeared, Hutch wondered what that wink had been all about. Was it a reference to Hutch’s woody? Jesus, he hoped not. Bad enough he got hard while lying draped all over his partner, but he could really live without being teased about it.

Blinking rapidly to clear his head of thoughts of erections, he turned back to the table, noticing that Tor was watching him, a frown on her face.

No way was Hutch going to ask what that look was about. He gathered the empty plates with silent determination.

 

Chapter 9

Sitting on the front steps, sipping his decadent third cup of coffee that morning, Hutch squinted out into the sunshine. The weather had not disappointed, it was warm enough to sit without a sweater.

In fact, now full of lunch and buzzing nicely with the caffeine, he was feeling deliciously content. He smiled and raised his face to the sun. Maybe this wasn’t such a bad way to earn a living, after all.

Out on the front spread of grass, Tor was lying on a rug, reading a selection of old TV guides that she’d found in a cupboard. Some of them went back before she was born, so she was having a great time mocking the fashions. Every now and again, she’d snort some derogatory comment and shake her head.

Hutch supposed it was better than sulking or whining she was bored. Starsky had won the toss of a coin to go get more food and stuff from the supermarket down the road.

Stay and baby-sit, or go fetch provisions.

Strange that grocery shopping should be the more sought-after task.

Sad, too, he thought, watching Tor flick through the pages.

The child was such a contradiction. She had stunned the pair of them by holding a conversation in French over lunch. Or rather, she’d held court, they’d just stumbled through with half-remembered phrases from school, astonished that she was so fluent.

And then the little madam had spoiled the moment by reciting a string of obscenities in French that made even his toes curl. Of course, they wouldn’t have known what the words meant, but for the gleeful English translation that followed each one.

They ended up having another shouting match over that.

Hutch sighed. Tor was a strange one, alright. All cocky and arrogant, full of self-confidence and attitude, yet she still moved around Starsky like he was some loosely-chained guard-dog.

Gazing into his mug, he didn’t notice straight away that Tor had gotten up and was standing in front of him. He forced himself into a pleasant smile when she caught his eye.

“Hey.”

Typically, there was no reply, she just stood, frowning at him.

“What’s up?” he asked, determined to be civil.

Working her lips like she was deciding on what to say to that, Tor eventually sighed. “Will you tell him to just get it over with?”

Hutch looked at her. “Get what over with?”

Tor’s hand flapped. “You know- Cause of what I did.”

Hutch stared. He felt like he was coming late into a conversation and was playing catch-up.

“I don’t follow,” he said. “What did you do?” He raised an eyebrow. “Oh, you mean the bad language?”

Tor shook her head, impatiently. “No, shithead – you know, the-“

Hutch frowned. “Don’t name-call, it’s immature.”

Tor rolled her eyes. “You just don’t give up, do you?”

Hutch smiled grimly. “No. Call it a character-trait.”

“I’d call it being a miserable bastard.”

“Careful, Tor,” Hutch said, with a scowl.

Tor curled her lip. “Is this because you’re the ‘woman’ in the relationship and you’re on the rag?”

Hutch felt his temper rocket. “No. It’s because you’re a rude, ill-mannered little girl.”

They glared at one another.

Hutch knew damn well he could out-last any pouty teenager in a sulky-staring contest – he’d worked with Starsky for too long.

Eventually, Tor sighed and let her eyes slip away.

“So.” Hutch put his mug down. “Would you like to explain – civilly – what you meant by: tell him to get on with it?”

A booted foot scuffed the floor. “You know-“

“No. Clearly I don’t. You’ll have to enlighten me.” He cocked an eyebrow and peered at the pouting face. “After all, I am incredibly old and slow.”

That got a small smile. “Yeah.”

“Okay, good. We agree on something. Now tell me – get on with what?”

Shoving her hands deep into her pockets, Tor rolled her eyes. “The belting, of course.”

Hutch frowned. “What?”

Obviously deciding that Hutch was the dumbest creature on earth, Tor waved her hands between them.

“Hello? I’m talkin’ about The Good Hiding… The Beatin’… The smackin’ about. Capiche?” She rolled her eyes.

Stunned, Hutch just sat and stared. Did she think Starsky was going to hit her? What the hell for? It would certainly explain why she was so skittish around him.

“You think Starsky… I mean, Mike, is going to hit you?” He widened his eyes. “What on earth makes you think that?”

Tor squirmed. “You know-“

Shaking his head, Hutch took a calming breath. “Explain to me very carefully, why you think he would want to do something like that to you.”

“Because I smacked him in the nuts.” Tor stood, pushing a stone around with her toe.

Hutch sat in stunned silence, trying not to react. Trying not to be judgmental about the quality of this child’s upbringing that she would assume she was going to be beaten for an accident.

“Tor…” he began, wondering how to put this without criticizing her natural parents.

“No-one’s going to hurt you. Least of all Starsky. I mean Mike… Oh, hell, you know who I mean.”

He spread out his hands. “Trust me. He’s not that kind of man.”

“I hurt him real bad.”

“Makes no difference.”

“Yeah?”

Hutch nodded.

Wandering back over to her rug, Tor glanced back, frowning.

“Trust me,” Hutch repeated.

She considered for a while, then jerked her chin towards the house. “He threw me on the bed.”

Hutch nodded. “He did. But did he hit you back when you were punching him? And did he smack you when you slapped his face earlier in the day?”

She didn’t reply, but the answer was in her expression.

He paused, searching for words. “David Michael Starsky is the most excitable, enthusiastic, passionate and most gentle man I’ve ever known. He can fight the toughest bad guys and beat them to the ground, but he would never-” He leaned forward for emphasis.

“*Never* do anything cruel or mean. And he will never lay a finger on you in anger. I can promise you that.”

Tor remained silent.

Hutch let her stew on what he had said and went back to enjoying the sunshine. Tor went back to her magazines and nothing more was said, but once or twice. Hutch caught the girl staring into space, an intense expression on her face.

***

“She thought you were going to hit her, you know.”

Hutch put the last of the shopping away in the fridge and screwed up the bag.

Starsky stared, a juice carton poised at his lips. “What?”

“Tor.” Hutch glanced at the closed bedroom door and spoke quietly. “She told me she was expecting you to strap her ass or something – for landing you one in the crotch, y’know?”

Starsky shook his head and tipped the drink back. “Jesus…” He took a long swallow.

Sitting down, Hutch took the carton from Starsky and poured his own drink into a glass. They sat in silence.

Eventually, Starsky spoke, running his finger across the table, without looking at the other man.

“And you told her what?”

“I told her that you’d probably take your belt to her after supper.”

Starsky’s head shot up, his mouth open.

“That you’d most likely take her out by the wood shed and beat the skin off her backside.” He pulled a face. “What the hell d’you think I said? Idiot.”

Flicking his eyebrows up in apology, Starsky shrugged slightly. “Sorry. I’m just…” He shook his head. “God.”

“I know.”

“What sort of a family life has she got?”

“Who knows.”

“Think we should say something?”

“To Tor?”

“No. I dunno. Child Services or something?”

Hutch was silent for a while. Unsure about his reply. Any sign of child abuse was supposed to be automatically reported to the authorities, but they had no real proof that anyone had ever hit Tor in the past. And they knew that involving the authorities wasn’t always the best of ideas.

“Well… Maybe we could talk to her about it. See if it’s happened before.”

“She might lie.”

“There is always that.” Hutch sighed. “And it’s not as if she hasn’t got enough to worry about right now.”

“You got that right.”

They sat quietly again. And Hutch’s mind began to wander. Wandered right across the table into Starsky’s clothes. He was wearing a nice pale blue polo shirt, today, tucked down into another pair of jeans. The black outfit of yesterday made him look dangerous, but the blue of today picked out his eyes and lent him a cool beauty.

Hutch shook his head. This was nuts — he was critiquing clothes now. This case was even making him *think* gay.

He banged his glass down on the table, making Starsky jump.

“I gotta go do something. All this sitting about is driving me nuts.”

Starsky looked at him. “What d’you suggest?”

Hutch grinned. “Fancy a walk, Mrs. Hunt?”

Scowling, Starsky flicked a drop of juice at him. “Don’t call me that.”

“We’re meant to be a couple, aren’t we?”

“Yeah, but that don’t mean I gotta be your wife!”

“Well, I’m certainly not going to be yours.”

“You two havin’ a lover’s quarrel?” Tor stood in the doorway.

“Nope.” Hutch shook his head. “Just a difference of opinion.”

Starsky grinned over at Hutch. “Your ‘mom’ was just askin’ if I fancied goin’ for a walk someplace. Whaddya think?”

Hutch snorted, waiting for the stream of obscenities to flow.

“Sure. Why not.”

Astounded, Hutch turned to stare at her.

She pulled a face. “Anything’s gotta be better than sittin’ around in this fuckin’ shit-hole.”

Standing, Starsky strode quickly over to stand in front of Tor. She flinched fractionally as he closed in on her.

Starsky leaned down to look her in the face. “Okay. Here’s how it’s gonna be. Rule number one: You ain’t gonna wander off. Always stay where we can see you. Rule number two: You’re Tor. I’m Mike…” He waved at Hutch. “And this is Richie. Got it?”

“I thought he was mommy.” She smirked.

Starsky jabbed his finger at Hutch. “He’s *Richie*.”

With a great show of rolling her eyes, Tor sighed.

“Rule number three…” Bending slightly to glare her straight in the eye, inches from her nose. He waited until she was looking at him before he carried on speaking.

“Rule number three is: No. More. Cursing.”

Tor scowled at him and opened her mouth to say something, but Starsky held up a hand.

“No exceptions. No arguments.”

Pouting at him, Tor stomped her foot. “Why not? Who says?”

Still staring at her, Starsky pointed his finger in the middle of his own chest. “I say. Me.”

“So? You’re not…”

He sighed. “Yes. I know I’m not. But I’m here – he’s not.”

Tor narrowed her eyes. “That’s because mom can’t remember who he was. So lucky me, I get to have an Uncle Ray, Uncle Harvey, Uncle Brett and Uncle Goddammed Pete, instead!”

Starsky paused a beat, digesting that information. Then he continued, without succumbing to sympathy or pity.

“That’s as may be. But whether or not your ‘uncles’ or even your mother allows you to use words like that, ain’t the point.”

“Yeah, so what is the goddamned point?”

“*I* don’t like it.”

“Oh, and I suppose *you* don’t ever swear?”

Starsky nodded. “Of course I do. I’m no saint.”

“Just a hypocrite!”

“Maybe. But hypocritical or not, I don’t like hearing certain words coming out of the mouth of young people.” He shrugged, standing straight. “Particularly beautiful young ladies.”

Hutch watched a flash of something dash over Tor’s face before she turned away and stomped into the lounge, muttering under her breath.

Starsky gave Hutch a wry look. “Think I won?”

“We’ll see,” Hutch laughed. “Come on. Let’s go, before she changes our minds.”

 

Chapter 10

There had to be a rule or regulation somewhere that said he shouldn’t be enjoying this as much as he was. Bound to be tucked away in the police handbook along with ‘ No Getting An Erection When You’re Forced To Share a Bed With Your Partner.

But hell, whatever. This was nice.

He and Starsky were walking through the parkland in the afternoon sun, side by side, talking about nothing much, feeling the sun warm their skin and the breeze teasing their hair.

This beat driving around the dirty streets of Bay City. It beat grilling some dirtball in the cells, in fact it beat almost anything, Hutch decided.

“She looks almost harmless, doesn’t she?” Starsky said, watching Tor playing fetch with a spaniel.

Hutch nodded. “She sure does.”

“Wouldn’t think she had a vicious left hook and a mouth like a foot soldier.”

Hutch looked at him. “You were a foot soldier.”

He nodded. “I know. That’s what I mean.”

Hutch smiled. “Use bad words a lot, Private Starsky?”

“Oh…’ He shook his head. “Constantly. A real potty-mouth.”

“I wouldn’t have said that.”

Starsky shrugged, still staring out at where Tor played. “Try not to, you know – cuss and swear too much. Ma raised me better’n that.”

The comment touched Hutch. “You’re full of surprises, you know that, Starsk?”

The other man glanced sideways and smiled. “Yeah. Go figure, huh?”

“Just when I think I know you inside and out-” Hutch shook his head.

Laughing suddenly, Starsky gave his eyebrows a wiggle. “Inside and out, eh, partner? You gettin’ into the role, now?”

Hutch narrowed his eyes. “And then just when I think you have some redeeming quality, you always manage to revert to your utterly reprehensible self.”

That made Starsky laugh harder. He slapped Hutch on the back. “God, I love it when you talk like that!”

They watched an elderly man walking along the path towards them. A leash hung from his hand. Hutch felt Starsky’s hand slide off his shoulder, his other hand automatically flexing, as if reaching for his gun.

“Steady,” he whispered. “That’s probably just his dog Tor’s with.”

“Yeah,” Starsky said, not relaxing at all.

The man approached.

“Hiya,” he said, saluting them with the leash. He looked at Starsky. “That your girl out there?”

“Sure is,” Starsky lied, smiling. “That your dog?”

“Sure is,” the man echoed, grinning hugely. “Name’s Doofus. Doofus The Dog.”

Hutch couldn’t help laughing.

“Uncomplimentary, but apt. Dog’s a darned fool.”

“Looks okay, to me.”

“Oh, he’s okay, alright. Just lacking, upstairs, if you know what I mean.”

He put his thumb and finger in his mouth and gave a whistle.

“DOOFUS!”

Both dog and child looked up, making Hutch smile. He grinned wider as both began to run up the slope to them.

The dog reached them first, dashing in and out of the three sets of legs in paroxysms of delight, getting dog-spit everywhere.

Hutch grimaced at the smear across his hand.

“Hey there boy.” Starsky seemed unconcerned with the state of his pants as Doofus wiped himself all over his legs. “Who’s a good dog, then? Yes you are — yeah,” he crooned, rubbing brown fur every which way.

Hutch restricted himself to a pat of the relatively dry head.

“You wanted me?” Tor reached them, breathing hard. She looked at Starsky.

“No,” he said, laughing. “This guy was calling his dog.”

“Your dad calls you ‘Doofus’?” The man chuckled. “How about that?”

“Oh, he calls me that all the time,” Tor said, her face the picture of innocence.

“I do not!” Starsky protested.

“And worse things, too.” Tor grinned.

“Oh, dear.” The old man shook his head. “How very sad. It sounds like somebody’s daddy needs sorting out.”

Hutch looked at Starsky face, a mixture of indignation and annoyance, and at Tor’s smug satisfaction and burst out laughing.

“I’m afraid a certain young lady is pulling your leg, sir.”

“Really?”

“Absolutely.” Feeling outrageously daring, Hutch slipped his hand into Starsky’s.

It was warm. He held it up.

“This daddy’s a complete softie, when it comes to our little angel, aren’t you?”

Starsky gaped at his, his eyes flicking down to where they were joined.

“Er… yeah,” he stuttered. “I g-guess I am.”

Hutch had to grind his teeth together to keep from laughing. Oh, dear God, his face! That little stutter was worth every second of misery Starsky was going to put him through for this.

The man looked at the joined hands, at each of the men and finally at Tor, his mouth hanging open.

“Oh, God, must you?” Tor sighed.

Hutch winked at her and squeezed Starsky’s hand harder. “Ah, you know I just can’t help myself, honey.”

Tor rolled her eyes and made puking noises.

“Well…” The man didn’t seem to know where to look. His face flushed with color.

“I think I’ll-” He slipped the leash over the dog’s neck. “We must get along.”

He tightened the leash and the dog’s head jerked sideways. “Doofus,” he said sharply. “Come on.”

Tor smiled. “Nice ta meet you and Doofus.”

It was Hutch’s turn to look stunned. Had he just heard right?

Tor bent to pet Doofus one last time. Hutch glanced at Starsky and his partner gaped back at his, eyebrows almost in his hair.

He’d heard it too. Damn.

“See you again, perhaps,” Tor said.

“I don’t think so,” the man said shortly as he dragged the dog in the opposite direction, the hound clearly wanting to carry on playing. Another tug on the leash persuaded Doofus that it would be best to follow, and he began to trot alongside his master, who clearly couldn’t get away fast enough.

They both turned to look at Tor.

She sensed their gaze and turned to face them.

“What?”

“That was…” Starsky floundered, not knowing quite what to say.

“Yeah, what?”

Hutch spoke up. “That was lovely, Tor. Very polite.”

The girl shrugged. “Yeah, yeah. Whatever.” Then bending to grab a stick, she ran off back down the slope.

The two of them stared after her, silent.

Eventually, Hutch realized that he was still holding Starsky’s hand. And Starsky appeared to be holding it right back.

Hutch swallowed, but made no move to let go. He wondered who was going to make the first move. Despite that fact the need to hold hands for ‘cover’ had passed, he was shocked at how pleasant it felt. How easy, how natural. He should have dropped the hand the second the man ran away, and yet he couldn’t bring himself to do it.

He wondered if Starsky felt the same way. He opened his mouth to ask him.

“Erm..” Starsky held up their hands between them and grinned. “Felt like slipping into character, schweetheart?” He raised an eyebrow and leered. “Just how far ya wanna take this? I gotta tell ya — I don’t put out on a first date.”

Hutch snatched his hand back and began to stride away, stuffing his hands in his pockets. He called out across the grass, a cold, twisted ache lodged in his belly.

“TOR! Come on. Time we were getting back!”

“Hey!” Starsky called. “Wait up, man!”

Hutch’s long legs ate up the path between them.

“Hey, man! C’mon- Wha’ d’I do?”

Shit, Hutch thought, putting his hands in his pockets and starting up the path.

It was just a dumb joke, he muttered to himself, just Starsk being Starsk, as usual.

He tried to squash the sick feeling in his belly, striding along the path, furious at Starsky for the dumb comment, and at himself for letting it get to him.

Tor raced up the slope and fell into step beside his. “Cool dog, huh?”

“Yes, he was,” Hutch replied, still scowling. Maybe talking to the kid would settle his temper. He glanced at the girl. “Have you ever had one?”

“Nah.” Tor swiped the stick at the grass. “Can’t keep a dog where I live.”

“Why not? You could have a small one, maybe.”

She laughed, a harsh sound. “Yeah, right. Someone’d either eat it or use it for target practice.”

Hutch was shocked. “Really?”

Tor nodded. “That’s what happens to all the cats, anyway.”

Hutch shook his head. “That’s terrible.”

“Whatever.” Subject closed, Tor glanced at Starsky trailing behind. “What’s with him?”

Hutch didn’t bother to look back. “Nothing.”

“Don’t look like nothin’. He’s got a face like a smacked ass.”

Hutch tried not to smile. “No swearing.”

“Oh, ya gotta be kiddin’! Ass ain’t swearin’.”

“It’s not particularly nice, though, is it?”

Tor sighed. “God! You two. Couple of tight-a…” She glanced at Hutch. “Be-hinds,” she finished. “Now that just don’t sound right,” she grimaced.

“No, you’re right. It doesn’t,” Hutch admitted.

“That mean I can-“

No.” Hutch shook his head. “It doesn’t.”

They walked in silence for a while, Starsky still 50 yards behind them. At least Hutch presumed he was behind them, but he was still too pissed off to look.

“He still back there?” he asked.

Tor looked round. “Yep. Still with that face on.”

“Good.” Hutch walked a little faster.

Another hundred yards passed, then Tor spoke again. “You two have a fight?”

“No.”

“Looks like ya did.”

Hutch didn’t answer. He replayed Starsky’s snarky remark over and over, trying to wear out the sting in the words.

“Well, if ya ask me…” Tor began.

“I didn’t.”

“If ya ask me,” she continued, regardless. “You two fight-” She pulled her arm back and threw the stick away. “Like some old married couple.”

“We most certainly do not!” Hutch snapped.

Tor shrugged. “Whatever.”

“We don’t!”

“So ya say.”

Hutch walked on, frowning. Married couple. Yeah, right – a couple two steps away from the divorce courts. You just didn’t make fun of those you loved. Damn the man.

His breath caught in his throat and he almost stopped dead in his tracks.

Love? His mind snagged the word and turned it around, looking at it from every angle, fascinated.

“So – you two’re not lovers, then?” Tor derailed his busy train of thought.

“No.” The reply slipped out sharply as he went back to struggling with a more important question on his mind.

“Oh.”

They walked a bit more in silence, both lost in thought.

“You love him, though.”

“I most certainly do not.”

“Really?” There was no hint of censure in her voice, just curiosity.

Hutch sighed as his mind handed him the only honest answer he could give.

“Okay, yes, all right – I *do* love him. He’s the best friend I ever had. I guess you could say I love him more than anyone else I know.” He shook his head. “But I don’t love him — you know, the way you’re implying.”

“Oh.”

There was everything and nothing in that one word.

Hutch turned to look at the girl at his side. “You have something you want to say?”

“Nope.” Tor shrugged. “Ya love him, but ya don’t wanna fuck him. Got it.” She broke into a slight jog as the cabin came into sight.

Hutch opened his mouth to yell at her as she ran off, but couldn’t think of anything that wouldn’t make him sound as bad as her. But strangely, the outraged denial that ought to be there simply wasn’t.

And that bothered him — but even more strangely, not as much as he imagined.

“Oh, fuck it,” he muttered softly to himself.

***

When Hutch announced he was going to cook supper, Starsky didn’t argue, just nodded and slunk out of the back door. Hutch didn’t bother to ask him where he was going, he just went about peeling, chopping and slicing in grim silence.

And in silence had been pretty much the way the afternoon had been spent. Tor was in her room, amusing herself with God only knew what, and Starsky seemed to sense that idle conversation wasn’t the way to go and made himself scarce.

So Hutch stewed by himself in the silence.

By the time the pasta had come to the boil, Hutch was calmer. Unfortunately, he was also beginning to suspect that he’d reacted a teensy bit too harshly to what had been said.

A nagging voice at the back of his mind was telling him that he either owed Starsky an apology, or at the very least, some sort of explanation.

He slammed his mind shut on the voice and tried to ignore its shouts from under the door. He wasn’t keen on apologizing, and even less on trying to explain himself.

H sighed and looked around, but both Starsky and Tor were nowhere to be seen. He’d obviously been giving off major ‘leave me the fuck alone’ vibes.

Deciding that he ought to make at least a token move to rejoin the human race, he wandered through to the lounge area.

No Tor. No Starsky.

He considered calling out, to find out where they’d gone, but that really was too lame. He could track them down in a little place like this – he was, after all, a detective.

Tor’s door was open. He walked over to it and looked in. The girl was kneeling on her bed, elbows on the sill, staring out into the yard.

“Hi,” Hutch said, surprised at how much the girl jumped when he spoke.

“Oh… Hi,” she replied, blushing furiously.

Hutch’s curiosity was tickled. “What’re you doing?” he asked, walking over to the bed.

Tor fidgeted and squirmed, looking so guilty that Hutch’s alarm-bells started ringing.

“Oh… n-nothin’. Honest,” she stammered, blushing even more.

“Uh-huh. That so?”

Just for a second, Hutch had an insight into what his own mother must have experienced, when she caught Hutch doing something he wasn’t supposed to. Instinct, or maybe just a basic recognition of mischief. But whatever it was, his whole body was telling him Tor was as guilty as a puppy by a puddle.

He went around the other side of the bed and peered through the window to see what had held her interest.

“What’s so interesting outs-“

Anything he might have said drained away onto the floor. The window held a prime view of the back yard, right across from where Starsky was washing the car.

“Oh,” he said, helplessly staring.

Tor turned back to stare. “Not bad for an old guy, huh? Who’d have thought he’d look so good underneath that faggy shirt?”

Hutch stood by the window, unable to tear his gaze away.

“Nice abs, huh?” Tor said softly.

Starsky was standing in the last patch of evening sunshine, reaching over the car as he ran wet leather over the roof. His skin was shining where the water had splashed him and his muscles stretched and pulled, showing off their definition to perfection in the russet sunshine.

Hutch stared. He’d seen his partner’s body countless times — seen it battered, bloody, fit and healthy. But until now, he’d never seen it like this. Objectively, and through someone else’s eyes.

Damn.

The man was beautiful.

His partner was completely beautiful, and the realization took his breath away.

As Starsky bent to rinse the leather, Hutch felt he now understood the reason why David Starsky rarely wore anything other than tight jeans.

The perfectly sculptured back turned, broad shoulders flexing and stretching over the car.

Beside him, Tor said something that filtered through the white noise in Hutch’s head.

“Huh?” he said, not taking his eyes off the sight on the yard.

“I said pretty fuckin’ buff for an old guy, ain’t he?”

Hutch grunted low agreement in his throat, thinking, God, yes, pretty fuckin’ buff…

As the phrase took root in his head, the reality of the situation crashed in on him.

“What I m-mean…” he stammered, feeling himself beginning to blush.

“That is…” He frowned at his stammer.

He tore his eyes away and took a calming breath. “I’ve told you about using that word.”

“Whatever,” she said, looking across the yard, resting her chin on her hands.

“Tor…” Hutch ran a hand through his hair, suddenly feeling very unsure and very off-balance. He felt like he’d just been allowed a peek at something new and vulnerable inside himself.

“You know, we shouldn’t be doing this…” His eyes betrayed him, dragging themselves back to the sunshine and glistening skin.

They both watched as Starsky wiped the water-drops from the car, stopping to squeeze out the cloth every now and then, his biceps bulging as he strangled the water out.

“Wow!” Tor whispered.

Hutch swallowed, his throat too dry to reply.

“He work out a lot?”

“Tor…” he said, unable to take his eyes off his partner. “This is a violation of Starsky’s privacy. We shouldn’t be watching him like this.”

“Uh-huh.” Tor stared out of the window.

“That’s enough.” Hutch forced himself to close his eyes briefly, vaguely distressed to find the backyard scene playing on the inside of his eyelids.

“Come away.”

Tor ignored him, still staring.

“Tor…” With supreme force of will, Hutch made himself look away. “Come help me set the table for supper.

Turning, Tor looked Hutch up and down. “What the hell’s wrong with you?” she asked, clearly puzzled.

“Nothing at all’s wrong with me,” he lied, moving towards the door. “It’s just not right to stare at someone when they don’t know you’re doing it.”

Especially when you’re getting off on it in a big way, he added, mentally.

Tor sighed, flopping back down on the bed. “Ain’t like I’m hurtin’ him or nothin’.”

“It’s still wrong. It’d make him uncomfortable if he knew.” Hutch mentally crossed his fingers. He imagined his exhibitionist of a partner would be tickled pink to know he was being admired.

“Come give me a hand in the kitchen.” He forced a smile onto his face.

“Do I get to have that ice cream for desert?”

Hutch feigned ignorance. “What ice cream?”

“I saw a tub of banana split in the freezer.”

“I don’t think so.” Hutch shook his head. “No. You must be mistaken. No banana split in this household.”

“I saw it!” Tor jumped from the bed.

“Uh-uh. Nope.”

“Oh, man… You are so busted!”

Successfully diverted, Tor raced out of the bedroom. With a last glance outside, Hutch sighed and followed.

He was falling apart – there was no other explanation for the way his world felt decidedly off-balance, and *definitely* none for the way his pants were suddenly too tight.

 

Chapter 11

It was tough, but Hutch managed to stagger his way through supper without spending too much time thinking about Starsky’s body; glistening wet or otherwise.

Conversation was sparse, whether due to his distraction, or Starsky’s hangdog mood, it was hard to tell. But in the end, it didn’t really matter, as Tor seemed to have discovered the art of the monologue in a big way.

She held court over the table, talking about dogs, a scramble bike she helped restore in school and the state of the baseball season.

It was only when she got around to discussion the demise of the neighborhood pets, that Starsky entered the conversation and asked her to move onto something other than the state of felines after collision with various vehicles.

After Starsky and Tor washed and dried the dishes, they all watched a couple of hours of trashy TV, and then Hutch sat on the sofa trying unsuccessfully to read a novel while the other two lay on the floor, playing a rowdy game of monopoly.

“Gimme the cash, loser, or I’ll set the guys on ya!” Starsky held a fist playfully to Tor’s nose.

“Man, you’re such a grouch.” Tor counted out the money, shaking her head. “You know I’m just lettin’ you win this one time?”

“Yeah, yeah, tell it to someone who cares.” He snatched the money off her and kissed it.

The boisterous game seemed to have lifted Starsky’s mood remarkably much to Hutch’s relief. Much as he’d been pissed at first, he really hated to see that kicked-puppy look about his friend.

Watching the two on the floor jostling for Monopoly supremacy, Hutch found himself smiling. Starsky was good with kids. Good with Tor, anyway. He watched the other man share his can of soda with Tor without thinking twice about it because the man was still a big kid at heart.

Starsky reached over to plonk his counter down on a square. He groaned.

“Ha! That’s $200 to me, Monkey-Butt!” Tor crowed.

“Whaddya call me?!”

Tor grinned. “Monkey-Butt, Monkey-Butt, Monkey-Butt! You gotta big, fat juicy monkey-butt!”

Starsky’s face was a picture. “I do not!”

“Do so! I bet it’s blue and red, too! Maybe I’ll ask your special friend — he’s bound to know!”

“Give it a rest, Tor.” Hutch growled.

Starsky made indignant noises and held the money up high, out of Tor’s reach. “Quit callin’ me names,” he grumbled.

Hutch watched his partner’s shirt rising up out of his jeans as he stretched.

“Oh, no, wait-” Tor grinned. “Maybe I got it wrong.”

“I should think so.” Starsky pouted.

“It’s your *face* that’s like a monkey’s butt!”

Starsky yelled and the shirt rode up higher.

Hutch sighed and closed his book. It was no good, he couldn’t concentrate.

“I think I’ll take a shower,” he announced, rising.

“‘Kay,” Starsky said, dropping the money on Tor’s head. “We’re nearly done, here.”

“No way! I’m gonna beat you down!”

Starsky shook his head and snapped his hand. “Not gonna happen, loser. I’m da *King* a’Monopoly!”

“Well, I’ll lock up, then turn in,” Hutch told the back of the curly head. He turned to Tor. “I won’t be long – you can jump in the shower after me.”

Tor stared at him. “What for?”

Hutch stared back. He wondered if the girl was serious. “To get clean, of course.”

“I’m fine.” She went back to the game.

“Look. Just take a shower, okay?” Hutch didn’t feel inclined to enter into a discussion on personal hygiene at this point.

“Uh-uh. I’m fine.”

“Tor….”

There was a dramatic sigh. “Gimme a break. I’ll take one when I feel good and ready, okay?”

Hutch gritted his teeth. Were all teenagers like this, or was this one special?

“I don’t want to fight about this, Tor.”

“Fine. Then leave me alone.”

He didn’t *want* to fight, but it looked like he was going to get one, regardless.

“Tor-“

Starsky shook the dice and threw them across the board.

“Don’t take too long when ya shower, Tor. I want one.” He counted his marker along four spaces.

“Okay, sure.” Tor nodded and tapped the board. “Ha! That’ll be two hundreds dollars again, *loser*.”

Hutch stared.

That was it? He stared at the two of them. Argument over, easy as that? He shook his head. One word from Starsky and the kid jumped?

He frowned, unreasonably annoyed.

“You gonna wash that skinny ass of yours or just stand there starin’ into space like a moron?” Tor said grabbing the shaker.

Hutch didn’t trust himself to speak. He just stalked over to the front and back doors, locking them firmly, then disappeared into the bathroom trying very hard not to slam the door.

***

There was a crack in the plaster on the ceiling that looked just like the outline of Canada.

And another over in the corner that was definitely an old woman with a huge nose. Or a moose.

Hutch sighed.

Reduced to shape-association while he lay in bed trying not to think about his partner taking a shower. How sad was that? Maybe he was going through some kind of mid-life crisis.

Tor had long since gone to bed and the noises coming through the wall were from Starsky as he stood under the water. Hutch’s imagination helpfully supplied him with a full-color visual of what was going on behind the shower curtain.

He groaned and rubbed his eyes. This was no good. He was going to be certifiable by the end of the week. The doctors would have to come and peel him off the cracked ceiling -he’d be hanging there by his fingernails, screaming about the pictures in his head.

They’d lock him up forever.

The bedroom door snicked open and the object of his distraction slipped in. Silently, Starsky made his way over to the bed, putting his clothes on the floor. He hesitated, standing looking down at the bed.

“For goodness sake – just get in,” Hutch sighed. “Don’t stand there like you need an engraved invitation.”

There was a snort of amusement, then with a swift pull as Starsky shrugged off his shirt and climbed in, sending the last of Hutch’s peace of mind scurrying out of the room.

“You’ll ruin your shirts, taking them off like that,” he said, suddenly wanting to point out at least one of the man’s fault.

“I know,” Starsky said quietly. “Ma always smacked the back of my head when she caught me doin’ it like that.” He wagged a finger in the dark. ” ‘Always pull from the hem, Davey’.”

“Your ma was right.”

They lay in silence for long minutes.

Out of the corner of his eye, Hutch watched Starsky chewing the inside of his cheek and wondered what was buzzing around inside that head tonight.

He lay there and stared across the sheets at his partner.

Hutch took his hand out from beneath the covers and rubbed his eyes to erase the picture of his partner standing soaking wet, naked in the shower that popped up in his head.

This wasn’t right. The other man would be horrified to know his best buddy was thinking about him like that.

Just let me go to sleep, he prayed.

Next to him, Starsky cleared his throat and Hutch flinched.

“M’sorry, Blintz,” came the hesitant whisper.

Hutch’s eyes snapped open. What the hell?

He turned to look. Starsky had turned to lie on his side, one hand tucked under his cheek, the other resting on top of the covers. He looked very contrite, but then David Starsky had a lot of practice doing the ‘hangdog’ look.

“I beg your pardon?” he said.

“I think I owe you an apology,” Starsky said, still looking incredibly meek.

Hutch frowned. “Yeah?”

Starsky sighed, minty breath whispering on Hutch’s face. “I behaved like an asshole, this afternoon.”

Unable to reply, Hutch just stared at him.

“You know… When we were in the woods and that man was talkin’ to us?” He paused, his hand moving up to scratch the side of his nose.

Hutch blinked, stunned. He was apologizing for that remark. Starsky was apologizing

for hurting my feelings. Instantly, Hutch forgave him.

“No. It’s fine, Stark. It was me.”

“No- I shouldn’t have made that crack. It was stupid.” He sighed again.

Embarrassed at being unable to stop himself from breathing the minty-fresh scent in, Hutch shifted to lie on his side, facing the other man.

“Thank you. But I should apologize, too – for my reaction. It was-” He hesitated. “A little over the top, shall we say?”

Starsky grinned, teeth shining in the moonlight. “Y’think?”

“Hey! What happened to my apology?” Smiling back, Hutch flapped the blanket at him.

Starsky’s hand came up to grab at the covers. “Okay, okay. Peace.”

Pinned to the pillow by the dark blue eyes, Hutch tucked his hand under his chin, in an unconscious imitation of Starsky’s pose.

Starsky nodded. “So. We’re — y’know – okay, now?”

The man really did have the most extraordinary eyes, Hutch thought. They seemed to change color, depending what he was wearing – what light there was. Right now, they were a deep, almost a royal blue.

“Is that a ‘yes’?”

Hutch jumped slightly. “What? I mean, pardon?”

Starsky smiled a lazy grin that pulled something loose deep inside Hutch. “Am I borin’ you, partner?”

Hutch smiled back at him. “No, of course not. I’m just-“

Desperate to lean over and kiss you?

Hutch snapped his mouth shut before the words spilled out. The unbidden thought had astounded him. “I’m a bit tired, that’s all.”

“Okay.”

Starsky turned and lay on his back, the covers falling to his waist. Hutch’s eyes tracked the exposed flesh, counting ribs in the dim light. He was mortified at how badly he wanted to reach over and touch the rise and fall of flesh.

He bit his lip.

“So… Whadd’ya say?”

Hutch swallowed, pulling his eyes back up to Starsky’s face. “About?”

“We okay, now? Y’know — us?””

Hutch gave a weak smile. “You feeling especially insecure tonight, Starsk?”

Starsky laughed, the white of his teeth glowing in the dark. “Let’s just say I never like sleeping in the same bed as a man that’s mad at me.”

“And that happens a lot, then?”

Starsky laughed and stretched both arms above his head like a languid cat. “I ain’t sayin’ nothin’.”

“Not saying anything,” Hutch corrected without thinking.

“You know what I mean.” Starsky pulled his arms down. “But whatever, I ain’t givin’ you any ammunition to rag on me.”

Hutch smirked. “Taking the Fifth, partner?”

“Better believe it.”

“You know that makes me think you’re as guilty as hell.”

Starsky smirked back, raising a suggestive eyebrow. “Yeah? Still wanna sleep with me, then?”

Hutch stared, contemplating the side of his face, at the mole on his cheek. He didn’t fight the flood of warmth that spread through him.

“Yeah,” he admitted very softly.

Starsky held his gaze for a long time, and Hutch wondered what he was thinking.

Eventually, the dark haired man smiled and moved his arm across the gap between them.

“Come on then,” he said.

For one wild second, Hutch contemplated launching himself across the sheets to spread his body all over his partner’s. The image was so compelling, he could feel his body tensing up ready to accept the invitation.

“What d’you mean?” His voice wasn’t much above a croak.

Starsky crooked a finger. “C’mon. It’s the least I can do. Use me as a pillow, Goldilocks.”

Hutch swallowed the house brick that seemed to be lodged in his throat. “Nah. S’okay.”

“Why not? I’m shower-fresh,” Starsky smiled, seemingly unaware of the screaming tension thrumming through his partner’s body.

“It wouldn’t be fair,” Hutch muttered.

Starsky tapped his own shoulder. “Trust me, Hutch. I won’t tell anyone, and I promise I won’t bite.” He dipped his head and scowled in mock seriousness. “You’re not gonna drool on me, are ya?”

Hutch smiled, despite his anxiety. “No, I’m not a drooler.”

He wondered if what was racing through his mind was leaving any trace on his face.

Starsky would probably sleep outside on the porch if he could see the images that were swirling in Hutch’s mind.

Some of those pictures were coming pretty close to making Hutch want to crawl away and sleep on the porch.

“Good.” Starsky tapped again. “Come on – think of it as penance. It’s only fair.”

No, fair is the *last* thing this is, Hutch thought, inching a little nearer to his partner, ignoring his better judgement.

“That’s it,” Starsky said, as Hutch nestled into the crook of his arm. He wrapped his arm around the stiff shoulders and pulled them closer together.

***

Shower gel. He smelled of shower gel and warm skin. Hutch sincerely hoped his partner wouldn’t be able to smell the rising arousal on his own body as he warmed up.

This was absolutely fucking nuts. “Starsk,” he began, pulling away.

“What?”

Hutch wriggled further away. “This is dumb. You don’t have to do any penance for me.”

Starsky sighed slightly. “Oh, okay, okay. Maybe I lied.”

Hutch frowned. “Huh?”

With a crooked grin, Starsky rubbed under his nose with his hand, looking guilty.

“Maybe it ain’t exactly a penance.”

“You’re losing me, pal.”

“Never wanna do that, babe,” Starsky muttered so softly Hutch wondered if he’d imagined it.

“Look-” Starsky began, screwing his face up as if in pain. “I kinda like it, okay?”

He held an accusing finger up.

“An’ I don’t want ya to gimme a hard time over it, ‘kay? It’s just that it’s – kinda nice, is all; havin’ ya lyin’ nexta me.”

Hutch was too astounded to do anything other than stare.

“Well?” Starsky pursed his mouth in a pout. “You’re gonna bust my ass over this, ain’tcha?” He pouted harder and frowned. “Ain’t like I’m askin’ you to do anything kinky — I just wanna sleep a bit closer, is all. Anyone’d think I was some kinda-” He looked and sounded about 2 seconds away from throwing a tantrum.

Hutch didn’t think. He didn’t tease. He just slid over the cool sheets to lay his head on his partner’s shoulder. He didn’t say a word, just rested his one hand on the furry belly and closed his eyes.

There was a momentary pause before Starsky’s arm curled over the back of his shoulders. Starsky sighed contentedly, breath ruffling through the hair under his chin.

“Thanks, pal,” he said in that gentle voice.

Hutch tried to relax, but he was hyper-aware of the smell of his partner, the weight of his arm across his skin, the warmth of the body lying next to him. He and Starsky had held each other closely on countless occasions, but somehow this felt different. This felt like a first time, of some kind.

Eyes stuck on main-beam, he stared straight ahead in the dark, not daring to move, lest a groan escape his body. Every blink that tracked his eyelashes through chest hair served to remind him of where he lay.

He flicked his gaze down the flat planes of his partner’s belly, down to the line of hair that pointed to his briefs. He was astounded to realize he wanted to move his hand to see if he could feel the dark nipples under his palm. He wanted to place his mouth over the one nearest and stroke it with his tongue.

Jesus, God.

“You okay, there?” Starsky rumbled, the sound echoing through Hutch’s head.

Nodding, he forced his eyelids shut. He could do this. He could do this.

“‘Kay, g’night, buddy.”

“Night,” Hutch whispered. He inhaled deeply, turning it into a sigh.

Oh, Lord, he whispered inside his head, feeling Starsky’s breath huffing through his hair as his heart rolled over and gave itself up.

 

Chapter 12

When he woke up, he was alone.

The bed felt huge and bereft. Rolling over onto his belly, Hutch took hold and sniffed Starsky’s pillow. A hint of his scent was still in the material, but it was cold. He

had obviously gotten up a while ago. Hutch sighed and rubbed his face on the material.

Damn, he was hopeless.

Two nights in his partner’s bed and he had turned to mush — but worse was the throbbing in his groin that was now becoming less of a distraction, and more am imperative.

Morally acceptable or not, he was seriously thinking about jerking off in the shower.

Maybe after a decent orgasm, he could think straight.

He threw back the covers and swung his legs to the floor. Yeah, that was funny — ‘think straight’. He snorted at the pun. He grabbed his clothes and stepped out of the room running a hand through his wild hair.

Starsky appeared around the doorway. “Hi,” he said, sounding disgustingly cheerful.

Hutch grunted. He was most definitely not feeling his best. He maneuvered the clothes to cover his bulging shorts.

“Not much of a morning person, are we?” Starsky smiled. “Yet you slept like a log last night.”

Hutch growled, rubbing his eyes with his free hand. “How d’you figure that?”

Reaching across his chest to pat his shoulder, Starsky grinned. “I did pillow-duty, remember? You were well away before I even had chance to think twice.”

“Yeah, well…”

“Must be because you had a rough night, the night before,” his partner said, waving his hand towards the kitchen.

“I was just comin’ to tell ya breakfast’s ready.”

Up first and cooked, again. Hutch felt like a slob. “You should have let me fix it, today,” he grumbled.

“No problem. Next time, yeah?” He leaned over his and banged a fist on Tor’s door. “GET UP! Come on, Tor! Breakfast!!”

Hutch winced at the volume.

“Yeah, yeah-” Tor threw the door open and flounced out. “Keep your hair on. I’m up.”

She stomped through to the kitchen and sat down, grabbing a slice of toast on the way.

Hutch looked down at himself. He was the only member of the ‘family’ not dressed.

“Don’t bother getting’ dressed, babe. It’ll go cold.”

It seemed Starsky was a telepath, on top of everything else.

“I suppose,” Hutch said, resigned. “I’ll just pull on a tee shirt.” There was no way he’d sit at the table without it. He didn’t want the other two looking at his nipples over toast. He smiled at the thought of last night’s view. Starsky had nice nipples.

“What’s so funny?” Starsky asked as he wandered back through, pulling his shirt over his head.

“Erm…” He felt himself starting to blush. “Nothing, really.”

“Prob’ly embarrassed to be seen wearin’ that godawful shirt,” Tor announced around a mouthful of egg.

Hutch looked down. “What’s wrong with it?”

She looked at him and pulled a face. “Superman? Oh my God. How old are you?”

Hutch felt a blush dash back up his neck. “I happen to like it, thank you.”

“Figures.”

“I like it, too.” Starsky grinned. “It looks kinda cute on him.”

Hutch stared. Cute??

“Yeah, if you’re seven,” Tor snorted.

Hutch looked down at himself, annoyed that a teenager could make him feel embarrassed about his clothes. Well, not technically *his* clothes.

“It’s not even mine,” he muttered, reaching for his glass of milk.

“Nah — s’my shirt, actually,” Starsky grinned.

That made Hutch blush even more. Gee, Starsky, thanks a bunch.

Tor laughed derisively as she poured honey on her toast. “Oh, please. I shoulda known. You swap spit, why not clothes?

No it was Starsky’s turn to blush, Hutch noted. That was interesting.

“We do not,” he muttered. “Shut up an’ eat your food.”

Tor snorted and drank her milk, ignoring the pair of them.

***

“I’m bored.”

Tor sat on the front steps, swinging his legs back and forth. “Bored, bored, bored.”

Hutch glanced over to where Starsky was squashing the trash into a bag.

The damned kid had been chanting this over and over for the last hour, and was fast slipping from chanting to whining. And Hutch couldn’t take much more of it.

They had been for another walk in the woods, swept the yard, and done a little light housework, but there was really a serious lack of things to do for the kid.

Actually, doing the laundry had been the highlight of Hutch’s morning. Not only had it gotten him out of the way of a whinging teenager, but he got to handle Starsky’s clothes.

While he was fully aware that getting a kick out of sorting through someone else’s dirty laundry probably put him high on a list of sick perverts somewhere, he found he really didn’t give a shit.

It gave him a grounded sense of security to be doing something so mundane after the emotional roller coaster of the past few days, but he’d blown that the instant he found himself with his nose buried in Starsky’s screwed up tee shirt.

With the post-lunch lull, it was apparent that Tor was beyond appreciating the peace and quiet of the area. She was going for the sulky-teenager thing like a creature possessed.

She was approaching the same heights that Starsky attained on boring stake-outs and it was dancing on Hutch’s last nerve in the same way.

“I’m so freakin’ BORED!” she yelled, making Hutch jump.

“Tor, for Chrissake!” He snapped, more annoyed at being startled than anything else.

“What! ‘Freakin’ ain’t swearing!”

“Well, it’s-” Hutch shook his head, not willing to concede defeat. “It’s still not very nice.”

Tor threw her arms up. “Oh my GOD! I do not BELIEVE this!”

Hutch glared a ‘you talk to her’ expression over to Starsky, standing by the kitchen door. He could deal with the creature, being as he was so damned good with kids.

Starsky nodded, giving him a little wink of sympathy. “Hey! You think we should go into town to pick up some stuff?” he suggested.

“Like what?” Tor was suspicious.

Starsky shrugged, looking over at Hutch. “Oh, I don’t know. How ’bout we go get a couple of tapes to try out that swanky new video machine over there?”

“Yessss!” Punching the air, Tor did a victory-dance on the grass. “At last! Enter-damned-tainment!”

Hutch hid his smile.

“‘Course, we gotta take the time to get groceries, too.”

The dance faltered a little.

Starsky shrugged. “Or I could go do the shopping by myself.” He raised his eyebrows. “I’m sure I could pick out some good movies. I’ve always quite fancied seeing Chitty Chitty Bang Bang again.”

Hutch made no attempt to hide the grin that came as Starsky said that. Tor exploded in a fit of utter contempt that left the girl red-faced and practically fitting in front of them.

“So you don’t mind puttin’ up with a little grocery shopping, then?” his partner asked innocently when the outpouring of disgust finally stopped.

Tor pouted.

Starsky merely waited in silence, arms folded over his chest.

“I suppose,” she conceded with a huge sigh.

“Good. I’ll grab the list. We need to stock up.”

Hutch grinned. “You out of candy bars?”

Starsky narrowed his eyes. “No. Granola and natural yogurt.”

“I’m telling you now – I get to choose the movies,” Tor informed them, stomping off towards the car.

Starsky followed Hutch into the kitchen, pausing to snag the scribbled list off the front of the fridge.

Unable to resist, his eyebrows rose. “Chitty-Chitty?”

Starsky grinned. “Oh, sure. That Truly Scrumptious was hot.”

Hutch gave him a look.

“It was a damn good story,” he added, shrugging. “You gotta admit that much.”

Hutch snorted. “I always thought highly of the Child Catcher, myself.”

Starsky laughed loudly and Hutch felt something squirm, deep inside. God, he loved it when his partner threw his head back and let loose like that.

“I have to admit-” Hutch said, grabbing his wallet. “He scared the living daylights out of me.” He shook his head. “He creeped me out every time he came on the screen.”

He jumped, startled, as Starsky bent his head to whisper from behind.

“Me too.”

Hutch laughed, rubbing the goose bumps on his arms that had leapt up when Starsky’s mouth brushed his ear.

 

Chapter 13

“We’re *not* having that,” Hutch said, removing the horror movie from Tor’s grasp.

“But…”

“No ‘buts’.” Hutch sighed. This was turning into another teenager-versus-parents nightmare.

“What ’bout this one?” Tor held up something equally gory.

“No.”

“Why the hell not!?”

“You are not watching anything that displays peoples’ body-organs on the cover.”

Turning his back on a performance of sighing and eye-rolling, Hutch walked away. Looked very much like it was going to be the Child-Catcher, the way things were going.

At least Starsky would be pleased.

“Hi,” Starsky said, dumping a selection of candy bars in the basket. “Chosen one, yet?”

“I wish.”

“How ’bout this?”

Hutch examined the cover. “I just told Tor she couldn’t watch an orgy of death and destruction. Can’t very well let you pick one, can I?”

Starsky grinned, putting the film back. “And who made you the Boss?”

“Me,” he smiled. “By unanimous vote.”

“Fair enough.” Starsky wandered along a bit, his hand hovering over the shelves.

“Fancy a cop flick?”

Hutch grimaced. “Too much like real life.”

Starsky laughed.

They wandered down the aisle, Starsky concentrating on the video section, Hutch concentrating on his partner’s rear-end with only the tiniest sliver of guilt for doing so.

The cart was a little under half full of groceries already.

It had taken all Hutch’s powers of persuasion to get the two of them this far round the store, without filling the entire cart with the most horrendous foodstuffs known to man.

The most excruciating moment so far had been the shouting match over salted or barbecue flavored chips.

The issue of cookies was almost an out and out fist fight. In the end, he’d just walked away, embarrassed to be standing with the two of them.

“I got a couple,” Tor announced, grinning widely and holding them behind her back.

Hutch folded his arms. “I want to see before we get to the checkout.”

“Spoilsport.”

“Realist.”

“Let’s have a look,” Starsky said, holding out his hand.

“There’s this one for after supper – one we can all watch-” She passed over The Dirty Dozen.

“Okay,” he said, nodding. “This is good.”

“Yeah,” Tor grinned. Charles Bronson is cool.”

“He is?” Starsky looked mystified.

“Oh, yeah-” She snapped her fingers. “He’s da man.”

“I thought I was ‘da man’,” Starsky said, mock pouting.

“And?” Hutch tilted his head at Tor’s other hand. “What else have you there?”

There was a grin on the girl’s face that Hutch didn’t like the look of. Inside, alarm bells began to ring.

The grin widened as she winked at Hutch. “It’s just a little something that you and Mister Car-Wash can watch after I’m tucked up, safe and sound in my bed.”

Hutch’s alarm-bells exploded, leaving traces of red all over his face.

“Here y’go.” Tor thrust a lurid-colored box between the two of them, the red age restriction sticker a dead give-away.

It was called ‘Undercover and Undressed’, and it had a photograph of a ‘cop’ and a woman engaged in what looked like oral sex, but for the position of the sticker.

Hutch opened his mouth to tell the kid exactly what he thought of her choice in films, but was beaten to it by Starsky.

“Gimme that, you little…” He made a quick grab for the film, blushing furiously, but Tor snatched it out of reach, still grinning.

“I’ll just pop it in the cart, for later, shall I?”

“I’m gonna-” he growled, reaching for her.

Tor darted away from his outstretched hand, skipping off down the aisle, laughing.

Whether furious, or just mightily embarrassed, Starsky made off after her, breaking into a run when she began to pick up speed.

Following at a more sensible rate of knots, Hutch pushed the cart in the general direction of the noise and tried to calm both his heartbeat and his blush.

God! What a little madam! How on earth did she have the out and out audacity to say that?

Any reference to things like that would have made his insides shrivel up and die at that age. Not that he had even known about oral sex then.

Jesus, kids today!

***

The journey home was conducted in silence, Tor in the back reading a magazine, oblivious to the strained atmosphere in the front.

It had been very embarrassing, almost being thrown out of the supermarket. Maybe if Tor and Starsky hadn’t gotten into a wrestling match quite so near the breakfast cereal display, then things would have been different. As it was, Starsky got a sore rear-end and a bruised shin, while Tor got Starsky’s hand clamped firmly over her mouth to stem the screams of laughter and bad language.

The breakfast cereal had been spread all over the floor, boxes scattered every which way, under the amazed eyes of dozens of shoppers and checkout people.

Hutch had been ‘that’ far from leaving the cart and walking away. He wondered if all mother had moments like that. He would have to remember to send his some flowers when they got back.

He guessed that if they hadn’t offered to help gather up the scattered boxes and pay for the one Tor squashed, the manager might well have called the police.

As it was, he’d given the three of them quite a lecture about socially-unacceptable public behavior, which had made very little impression on Tor, but had Starsky grinding his teeth.

Didn’t help that Tor kept collapsing into fits of giggles every time she caught sight of Starsky’s expression.

Hutch was fervently hoping no-one was going to mention the porn film issue, but it seemed that a conversation about what sparked the whole thing off was not happening any time soon. His partner had barely spoken two words since they fled the supermarket.

The car crunched over the gravel on the yard and Starsky got out, still without saying anything.

“You. Help get the shopping,” Starsky said, opening the back door. He plucked the magazine from Tor’s hand.

“Hey!”

“Shut up and help.”

“God!” Tor rolled her eyes but did as she was told. She grabbed a sack and heaved it up.

Hutch took two smaller ones, leaving the rest for Starsky.

Surprisingly, Tor was putting the groceries away when Hutch reached the kitchen.

“Thank you,” he said, fighting the urge to give the girl a sharp poke with the end of the rolled-up magazine.

“No problem,” she replied, apparently having forgotten the whole supermarket incident. She peered into the top of the split cereal they’d had to buy.

“You’re gonna eat every damn crumb of that,” Starsky growled, dropping the rest of the stuff down.

“Yeah?”

He glared. “Yeah. Even if I have to force-feed it to you myself.”

“Think you could?” grinning again, Tor held the box out.

“Don’t tempt me.”

Laughing, Tor hoisted herself up onto the table and began to eat from the ruined box.

“My favorite, anyway,” she said around a mouthful. “Want some?” She held a handful of multi-colored shapes out to Starsky, who just growled again and sat down, looking thoroughly miserable.

Hutch glanced at him round a cupboard door.

“What’s up with you, Monkey-Butt?” Tor asked, voicing the question on Hutch’s mind.

“My ‘monkey’ butt hurts, thank you for asking,” he muttered, reaching behind to rub his rear, gingerly.

Tor laughed and stuffed in another mouthful of cereal.

“What’s up?” Hutch stepped over and stood in front of him.

Electric blue puppy-dog eyes looked at him. Starsky pulled a face. “I think she bit me,” he said, wincing.

“You’re joking?” Hutch said, glancing at a grinning Tor.

“Sure felt like it.” He had closed his eyes, obviously in pain.

Hutch blinked. “You want I should get you-” He hesitated wondering if he had totally lost his mind.

“Hey! If you two wanna play doctors, then at least gimme some warning.”

Hutch glared over the top of Starsky’s head. “I think the less you say, the better, don’t you?”

Tor shrugged, swinging her legs back and forth.

He went back to staring at Starsky’s grimacing face. “She really bit you?”

“Yeah.” He peered over his shoulder to look down at the seat of his jeans.

“You sure you don’t want-“

Nah —S’all right.” Starsky pulled a face and rubbed his butt.

Hutch straightened up. “You bit his *ass*!” He didn’t attempt to keep the outrage out of his voice.

Tor shrugged. “Hell, I didn’t do it on purpose. Jus’ that I opened my mouth ta scream and

the damn thing got in the way.” She laughed. “You gotta admit it sure does take up a lotta space!”

Starsky turned his head, a baleful expression on his face. “Gee, thanks, *Victoria*.”

Her face dropped and Starsky cocked an eyebrow at her, daring her to take issue about the name.

Putting his hand on Starsky’s neck, Hutch gently squeezed. “Take it easy,” he said, his fingers sliding through Starsky’s hair as he moved. A jolt of something needful shot through his body.

Swallowing hard, he concentrated on looking at a point over his shoulder and not staring into those dangerous eyes. He couldn’t face, or hide from those.

“Do I need to check the skin’s not broken?” he asked quietly.

“I don’t got no diseases,” Tor grumbled.

“Haven’t got any diseases,” Hutch corrected.

Tor stuck out a multi-colored tongue at him. He turned away and tightened his grip on the back of his partner’s neck.

“Starsk? You okay?”

Starsky nodded, still trapped in Hutch’s hand. “Yeah, m’okay. Just…” Hutch watched as a blush crawled over his face. “Kinda smarts, is all.”

“Oh, okay.” Hutch straightened and took his hands away. Clearing his throat, he walked over to the freezer and grabbed a bag of frozen peas. The shock of the cold bag took his mind from where it ought not to be wandering.

“I think you’ll live,” he said. “Just sit on these for a bit, should make it feel better. He pulled out a chair and sat down.

“Thanks.” Starsky’s face was still red. He wedged the bag under his rear and perched carefully.

“So…” he said, wriggling to get comfortable, pulling a pained face that had everything and nothing to do with the bite. “What didya mean, back there with the ‘Mister Car-Wash’ comment?”

Tor laughed, putting the cereal down. “You know. Yesterday.”

He shook his head. “What?”

Hutch felt his guts curl up. Please don’t say anything… Please don’t say anything…

“We was watchin’ you through the window. Doin’ the car.”

Starsky looked blank. “And?”

Tor winked at him. “Nice pecs, Daddy.”

Hutch groaned silently and closed his eyes, two seconds too late to avoid seeing the look on Starsky’s face.

When he opened them again, his partner was still wearing an endearing mixture of embarrassment and amusement.

“*We*?” he asked, glancing over at Hutch with a raised eyebrow.

“Just call it a mother/daughter bonding moment,” Tor said, leaning over and stuffing a handful of cereal between Hutch’s lips.

“Hey!” he spluttered, trying to spit the sweet sticky stuff out.

“Don’t call him that,” Starsky scowled, reaching up to brush off the cereal stuck to Hutch’s chin.

Tor flicked a crumb at him and grinned. “Why not? You’re the girlie in the relationship, then?”

Starsky glared at her. “Give it a rest, before I shove that box right down your throat.”

Tor sighed. She slammed the box on the table and stomped out of the kitchen, muttering something about ‘no goddamned sense of humor’.

Hutch leaned back, anxious to redirect the conversation. “Was the ‘Tor’ you knew this much trouble?”

“Worse.” Starsky shook his head, gathering up the stray cereal. “I never had an Indian-burn or a noogie that hurt as much as hers.” He smiled, his expression thoughtful.

“Sounds like you two didn’t get along.”

The smile opened up to a gentle laugh. “We got along just fine. As a matter of fact, she was the first girl ever to kiss me on the mouth.” He shook his head again. “Right after her left hook knocked me on my ass.”

Hutch was shocked to feel an irrational surge of envy for some Grade-school tomboy, who had been the first one to kiss this man. “How old were you?”

“Nearly eighth grade.” Starsky shrugged wryly and grinned. Leaning forward, he mock-whispered. “I was kinda in the slow-learner’s class as far as makin’ out went, back then.” He blinked slowly as he spoke, sending a thump of shock through Hutch’s belly.

“Oh, yeah?” he said, his throat bone dry.

Starsky nodded, still staring right back at him, not four inches from his face.

“I sometimes wonder if I’m still stuck there,” he said with soft distraction.

There was nothing Hutch could think of to say to that. His mind was a total blank, his throat squeezed tight.

He fleetingly wondered if Starsky wanted to grab those words back as soon as they spilled from his mouth. Maybe he thought they gave too much of himself away. But as soon as that crossed his mind, he relaxed — his partner knew Hutch would never use anything he said against him.

“Yo, – losers. When you’ve quite finished gazing into each other’s eyes like Romeo and fuckin’ Juliet, ya think we could get some food? I’m starved.”

Tor stomped back into the kitchen and pulled the fridge open, peering inside.

Hutch imagined a ripping noise in his head as he tore his eyes away from Starsky’s.

“What?”

“Hello? Food? Sometime this century, maybe?

Hutch stared dumbly at the child. How could she possibly be hungry? His own stomach was tied up in knots.

“It’s my turn to cook,” Starsky announced, slamming his hand down on the table. “And as punishment for gettin’ me a lecture from Mr. Safeway, you-” He pointed at Tor. “Get to help.”

“What?! I don’t cook!”

“You do, tonight.”

“Aw, man… That’s so unfair!”

Starsky stood up. The peas fell to the floor. “Get over it. Now get the pasta out. We’re eatin’ Italian, tonight.”

Tor groaned. “Again?”

“Eat it or starve, I don’t care.”

Hutch sat where he was, looking from one face to the other, not knowing what to say.

Once or twice he opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. He flicked his gaze down to the frozen bag on the floor, but thought he might puke if he bent down to pick it up – his head was reeling.

Starsky glanced over to him as he reached into the fridge for the cheese. “Why don’ you go have a soak while we miscreants cook?”

“God, you’re always in the damned bath,” Tor snorted.

“Some people have an aversion to being unclean.” Hutch shook his head. “Not that you’d understand.”

“Oh… Meow.”

Starsky pushed Tor towards the cupboard before Hutch had a chance to reply.

“Pasta. Now.”

“Yes, *Daddy*!”

Hutch wandered out of the kitchen, still vaguely stunned by the whole staring thing.

He hadn’t expected to be caught out like that. He thought he was able to defend himself against the lure of those azure eyes.

Apparently not.

He fled to the bathroom to think.

 

Chapter 14

Considering she didn’t cook, Tor did a pretty good job with the supper. Probably under close supervision and a good deal of protest, but it was nevertheless, very tasty.

When they both told her how nice it was, Tor had blushed and muttered something about ‘make the most of it’ and fled to her room.

When she eventually emerged again, safe from being asked to wash up, she announced

it was time they watched a movie. She rubbed her hands together, obviously back in a great mood.

The two men watched as she organized chips, sodas and popcorn, closed the drapes for

atmosphere and arranged the furniture so that the sofa was directly in front of the tv.

“Okay, people. Time for the main feature.” Grinning, she settled herself in the middle of the sofa.

“Got enough room?” Hutch said snippily.

“Yep. Gotta keep you two apart, or I won’t be able to keep my dinner down.”

The sofa wobbled alarmingly as Starsky walked over and began to deliberately wedge his body in between the two of them.

“You wanna eat this stuff or wear it?” he asked, stretching over to steal a handful of Tor’s chips as he wedged himself in, forcing her to shove over. “Move over.”

She slapped at his hand. “I’m gonna eat it, thank you — an’ what the hell are you tryin’ to do?”

“Drop the smart-ass comments and move over. You don’t get to tell me where to sit.”

She rolled her eyes. “Man, you are so sensitive.”

“Gee, thanks. I try.” He popped a chip in his mouth, grinning. He winked at Hutch.

Hutch raised his eyebrow and adjusted his elbow so it wasn’t sticking in Starsky’s ribs.

The three of them sat in silence, working their way through the snacks as the movie showed.

Hutch glanced over at Starsky occasionally. The other man was pressed up close to his body, his arm making regular trips to the popcorn bowl, attention riveted to the screen. The way his partner’s bare arm kept brushing against him, made Hutch shiver involuntarily.

Starsky glanced over at him a he felt the movement. “You cold?” he whispered.

Hutch shrugged. “A little,” he lied.

Starsky nodded, and with a decisive movement, threw his arm over the back of the sofa and wrapped it around Hutch’s shoulders.

“Better?”

Hutch nodded slowly, stunned.

Oh God. Was that better? Absolutely. Starsky’s palm was warm and soft, as it smoothed up and down the sleeve of his tee shirt.

Small mercies, for the dim lighting, he thought, feeling the warmth spread from his shoulder, down his body, to settle in his groin.

All his senses were focused on his shoulder. He’d never really regarded them as erogenous zones before, but the feel of Starsky’s palm there was sending urgent signals to his crotch.

And that was more than a little distracting before bedtime.

He stared at the tv, not a single image registering in his mind. His whole attention was firmly stuck on the man next to him – alert to every movement, every breath.

Hutch risked sneaking a glance.

By the light of the television, Starsky’s face changed colors, the shadows falling over his features in strange patterns. The curly head moved and Hutch snatched his gaze away.

Hutch couldn’t face the other man while he was doing that thing with his hand. He was sure what it was doing to his body would be written all over his face.

Counting slowly to fifty, he told himself it would be safe to look across again. He turned.

Starsky was still staring at him.

A cold wave ran through his belly, followed by a surge of warmth. In the darkened room, Starsky’s eyes were atypically dark. Hutch couldn’t read them. But then, with any luck, he wouldn’t be able to read his, either.

Starsky smiled, and rendered ridiculously helpless, Hutch smiled back. Such a small action, but it amplified the tingling in his groin almost painfully.

At his shoulder, the hand gave a little squeeze.

And then Starsky was looking back at the film, the sweep of his nose highlighted against the glow of the screen.

Hutch wanted to know how could such a small moment mean so much? From the state he was in, you’d think they had been making out like a couple of horny kids.

He forced his eyes to watch the screen, concentrating on slowing down his breathing and the easing tightness in his pants, trying *not* to think about making out.

***

The credits rolled. Neither of them moved. Tor re-wound the video and left the tv tuned on some random comedy station.

Hutch ignored the canned laughter and enjoyed instead, the rhythmic stroking on his shoulder. He didn’t care what they watched, as long as his partner continued to keep his hands on him.

After what felt like both minutes and days, Starsky gave his arm a nudge. He tilted his head to one side. “Check it out,” he whispered.

Craning his head, Hutch looked around the other man as he leaned back slightly.

Tor was asleep, sprawled across her part of the sofa, her head resting on Starsky’s other shoulder.

Hutch glanced at Starsky, amused, to find him grinning. “Kinda sweet, huh?” he said quietly.

Hutch nodded. “For a change,” he said.

Starsky reached over to brush the hair from Tor’s face. “Think I should wake her?” he whispered.

“Unless you’re planning on carrying her to bed, I think you’ll have to.”

“Seems a shame.” Starsky stared at the head on his shoulder.

Hutch was surprised at his tone. This was the girl who kneed him in the nuts, punched him and bit his ass. His partner was a constant surprise, sometimes.

“Maybe if I try to carry her through, she’ll stay asleep.”

Hutch pulled himself forward.

“Okay. But if you startle her, she’ll probably take another chunk out of your body.”

Starsky chuckled and eased his arm under Tor’s shoulders, sliding forward on the sofa. “Think I could claim compensation from the Department?” he whispered. “As a work-related injury?”

“I’d love to see Dobey’s face when he looks at those photos.”

Hutch moved the empty chip bowl aside as Starsky gathered Tor up and stood, all without waking the child.

“Very impressive,” Hutch nodded.

Starsky grinned and waggled his eyebrows up and down. “I da man,” he whispered.

Absolutely, Hutch thought, watching his partner’s biceps bulge.

Following them into Tor’s room, a little part of him complained that *he* wasn’t wrapped up in Starsky’s arms, being carried to bed. He’d bet his last buck on the fact that his tough partner could do it, too.

As he carried her, Tor grunted in her sleep, muttered something and slid her arms around Starsky’s neck, holding tight.

He glanced over at Hutch and pulled a ‘well, whaddya know’ face.

Hutch smiled back, wishing it was his face, buried in the crook of his partner’s neck. He knew what his skin smelled like – and it was addictive. Lucky Tor, he grumbled to himself.

He pulled back the covers on her bed and Starsky bent and laid his armful down.

“G’night, Trouble,” he whispered, trying to untangle his arms from round his neck. “Sweet dreams.”

Tor grunted again without opening his eyes. “Night, Monkey Butt,” she muttered as she pulled him down and kissed his cheek. Then she sighed, rolled over and shoved a thumb in her mouth.

Starsky hovered bent over the bed, startled. He straightened slowly and stepped back as Hutch pulled the blankets up to Tor’s neck.

They both left the room without speaking. Hutch glanced at his partner as he pulled the door shut, but his face gave nothing away. Strangely, he couldn’t tell what the other man was thinking.

Starsky sat back on the sofa and he moved to sit next to him, but not too close.

“You okay?” Hutch asked softly.

“It’s been a long time since a child kissed me goodnight,” he said, shaking his head.

The look on his face hovered between sadness and pleasure.

Then he snorted and shook his head and spoke, more to himself than to Hutch.

“Been a long time since *anyone* kissed me goodnight.”

There it was. The perfect opportunity, all laid out. All Hutch had to do was take it.

He swallowed. “Really?”

Starsky looked at him, pinning the blond with his eyes. “Uh-huh.”

Hutch didn’t move under their indigo spell. “That’s a shame,” he whispered.

Starsky shrugged nonchalantly, only the tiny lift of his mouth betraying him. “Yeah, well. Them’s the breaks, huh?”

“Maybe-“

“Maybe?” Starsky prompted when Hutch hesitated. His voice barely registered over the sound of the tv.

Terribly aware that he might be throwing away years of easy friendship with this one crazy act, Hutch ignored his better judgement and closed the gap between them.

Bare inches hung between them when the reflected light from the tv suddenly flashed bright.

Startled by the way it bathed Starsky’s face in icy light, Hutch felt his resolve falter.

He adjusted his trajectory, brushing his lips against Starsky’s warm cheek, pulling back quickly, furious with himself for wasting the opportunity.

Starsky stared at him with huge, unblinking eyes. Okay. Keep it light. Keep it superficial, Hutch told himself. He forced his lips to make something like a smile.

“That all better, now?” he joked.

Starsky nodded slightly. “Yeah… Thank you.” His eyebrows rose.

Oh, God. Here it comes, Hutch thought. The sarcastic remark – the body-blow to his pride. Mentally he braced himself to be hurt.

“That the best ya got?”

Hutch blinked. “What?”

Starsky gave a nervous laugh as his gaze slid away. “Well, I was kinda thinkin’…”

“Yeah, good luck with that,” Hutch threw back, out of self-defense. Any second now he was going to scream. Either that or cry — but he was positive neither option would be as humiliating as what was going to come out of Starsky’s mouth. He desperately wished he could snatch back the last ten seconds.

“Thinkin’ that maybe-” Starsky began.

“Oh, for goodness sake, what?” Hutch snapped.

Starsky laughed softly, shaking his head. “Don’t rush me, buddy. I’m not too good at this.”

“Oh, for Chrissake, Starsky, just spit it out!”

Starsky sighed. “Promise you won’t smack me one?”

Hutch glared at him. If the man was going to make fun of him, he’d give his partner a left hook to rival that 8th grade girlfriend.

“That all depends,” he said through clenched teeth.

“Well, I was just thinkin’- ” Starsky’s hand hovered in front of his face. “I might have felt a whole lot better if you’d kissed me…”

Hutch felt his world tilt as the other man touched a finger to his lips.

“…here.”

Hutch sat with his mouth hanging open, waiting for the world to settle down. His brain didn’t seem to want to process what his ears had heard. The word ‘here’ bounced around like an idiotic echo inside his head.

“S’okay,” Starsky gave an embarrassed laughed and tilted his head away seemingly embarrassed. He shrugged. “It don’t matter none.”

Hutch couldn’t process anything more complicated than the fact that Starsky had wanted a kiss on the lips. Wanted Hutch to place a kiss on his *mouth*.

“It matters to me,” he whispered.

Starsky didn’t look up. “Yeah, whatever. Relax, Blintz — I ain’t gonna jump ya or nothin’.” He gave a forced laugh, fiddling with some lint on the sofa. “Just my little joke.”

Hutch placed his hand over Starsky’s restless fingers. He deliberately waited in silence until the other man looked up.

“Were you really joking?”

Starsky said nothing for the longest time. He seemed to be battling with his reply. Hutch watched the muscle beside his jaw jump and twitch. He said noting, just waited for the answer, his hand trapping Starsky’s.

At length, Starsky sighed. The tension drained from his face. “No,” he said very softly. “I guess not.”

“Okay.”

Hutch nodded, satisfied, and tilted his head to close the last few inches between them, his mouth brushing against the other man’s lips.

Starsky’s skin was warm and smelled of aftershave and musk that was so wonderfully familiar. Hutch breathed the scent in, wanting to make the most of it.

The feel of Starsky’s warm lips and the faint scratch of beard crashing madly in two directions. Half to his head, making it whirl, half to his crotch, making it throb.

In his belly, something fluttered as Starsky’s lips moved slightly under his.

The sensuality of that movement sent wild fire streaking to Hutch’s lap. If the other man so much as parted his lips a fraction, he would respond.

There would be no way on earth he would be able to stop himself from putting his tongue inside the other man’s mouth.

Starsky’s breath huffed against his cheek as he pulled back slowly.

Hutch took a careful breath. “That better?”

Starsky’s throat moved as he swallowed. “Uh-huh.”

“Good.”

The other man sat perfectly still, his eyes glazed, his lips parted. Hutch laid a bet that if the overhead light was on, he’d see color high in his cheeks too. He looked stunned.

Hutch had felt a sweet ‘click’ inside him when their mouth’s had met – almost like the last piece of his life had finally slipped into place, but he had absolutely no idea if the same thing had happened to his partner.

It was up to Starsky to say something if he wanted go take this any further. But judging by the slapped-fish look on his partner’s face, it didn’t appear that Starsky would be saying anything meaningful any time soon.

Hutch forced himself to stand up and move towards the kitchen. He felt strangely in control, which was pretty amazing, considering his insides had been jumping like a box of frogs the past couple of days.

“I’m going to make a drink. You want some chocolate?”

Starsky just stared up at him. “Yes please,” he said in a tiny little voice.

Hutch grinned as he walked into the kitchen. If he had known one little kiss would have such a silencing effect on his partner, he’d have done it years ago.

 

Chapter 15.

It took a good hour and a half for Starsky to finally come to bed and Hutch had been just hitting the twilight world of sleep as the bed dipped, signaling his arrival.

He rolled over to face the newcomer, his nose just peeking out above the covers.

“Hey,” he said.

Starsky was lying on his back, perfectly still. “Hey.”

Through fractionally slitted eyes, Hutch watched his friend stare at the ceiling. He was determined to let Starsky to be the first to mention the kiss.

He watched the other man flap the blankets and sigh.

Sighing again, he flounced over on to his belly, giving Hutch a great view of his well-shaped back. But after a few minutes, he flopped over, with another deep sigh.

Starsky’s legs fidgeted all over the place, mirroring the state of his mind. His arms came out of the cover to flop on the top – then they went back underneath and wandered restlessly.

Hutch had spent the last ninety minutes planning on what he was going to say when the other man got into bed. He’d even refined a range of responses depending on what Starsky would say in reply.

All he needed to do was speak about it – and that appeared to be the problem.

Starsky sighed and rucked the covers again as he wriggled.

He opened his eyes to find Hutch glaring across the pillow at him.

A smile flickered uncertainly at his lips. “Hey, partner.”

“Starsk – you’re going to get hurt if you keep thrashing about like that.”

“How d’ya figure that?” Starsky said, puzzled.

“Because I’m going to *shoot* you between the eyes if you don’t lie still.”

“Oh.” He lay there looking across the pillow for another few minutes then heaved a huge sigh. “Aw, hell. I give up,” he muttered.

“Give up with what?” Hutch asked through clenched teeth.

“I dunno know whatta say to you, partner.”

“Oh?” Hutch asked, although he had a pretty darned good idea.

Starsky sighed and fiddled with a corner of the blanket. “You know — ’bout me, askin’ you for a kiss,” he said in a small voice.

“You don’t have to say anything.”

“No, I wanna.”

Hutch shrugged. “Okay.” He waited.

Starsky fell silent, frowning. “I didn’t think about it… It just kinda – popped out.”

“Uh-huh.”

Starsky looked over at him. “I mean it’s not like I haven’t *thought* about it. It’s no big deal. It’s just that I-“

He groaned and put his hand over his face as his words faded away.

Hutch watched, secretly pleased that his partner was both nervous and at a loss. It made his feel even more in control.

And oh, boy, didn’t that make a change?

Starsky rubbed his eyes and sighed yet again. “You want I should – y’know. Go sleep on the couch?” he asked miserably.

God, he looked whipped and meek, Hutch thought. Not an expression he liked, or wanted to see on his best friend’s face. He took a breath.

“Well, I have to admit I’ve thought about it.”

Starsky looked dejected. “Me sleepin’ on the couch?”

Hutch rolled his eyes and reached over to briefly pinch the end of the strong nose between two fingers. “No, stupid – kissing you.”

Starsky frowned. “You’re kiddin’?”

Hutch shook his head. “Uh-uh.” He studied his partner’s reaction and decided to take a gamble. “In fact, I’ve thought about it a lot, Starsk.”

The smile that broke over the other man’s face was worth the gamble a hundred times over. Hutch couldn’t help but grin back in return.

“Aw, man. Tell me you’re not teasin’,” he whispered.

Hutch shook his head. “I wouldn’t do that.”

Starsky smiled and gave a funny little shrug. “Well, didja – y’know – like it?”

Hutch bit back the laughter at the shy question. “Yeah,” he smiled, deliberately playing down the urge to bounce up and down on the bed like a lunatic. “It was nice.”

They lay silent, staring at each other, grinning, until Hutch reached over to place a finger to Starsky’s bottom lip.

“So, would it be okay if I did it again?” he asked softly.

Starsky nodded, his lips bumping the finger. “I’d like that.”

“Okay?” Hutch asked, sliding closer until they were almost nose-to-nose.

“Okay,” Starsky agreed, pushing forward so that he was the one to brush their lips together in the gentlest of kisses. He pulled back and looked Hutch in the eye and grinned. “Can’t let you have all the fun.”

Hutch grinned in return and pressed forward, bumping their noses together as he planted a noisy kiss on the other man. “”Wanna bet?”

Starsky laughed and reached out to jab Hutch gently in the ribs. “I knew you were gonna be trouble.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah.” Starsky chuffed a little laugh and tickled again, making Hutch flinch.

“Quit it!”

“Make me,” Starsky grinned.

Hutch narrowed his eyes and lunged forward without warning, crushing their lips together. He tilted his head a little, and put his hand up to cup the side of Starsky’s face.

The rush of surprised breath on his cheek felt like the sweetest revenge.

Gathering his courage, he allowed his mouth to open a fraction, just to see what would happen.

His insides swooped and soared as he felt a tentative lick on his lips. He answered it with a small lick of his own. As he did, he felt Starsky’s mouth open.

As Hutch gently pushed his tongue inside Starsky’s mouth, a bubble of something that felt like the bastard child of contentment and terror erupted inside his gut.

Hutch felt a sigh huff into his mouth, as he accepted both his partner’s breath and tongue into his body.

They took time, slowly exploring each other’s mouths, long strokes and small darting motions that told them all they needed to know about each other’s mouths.

Eventually, they sighed apart and stared at one another.

“That was…” Starsky shook his head.

Hutch smiled and stroked the side of the much-loved face. “It was a long time coming, that’s what it was,” he said gently.

“Yeah…” Starsky sighed, closing his eyes under the soothing touch.

Hutch rubbed the scratchy evening beard, pushing his hand against the rasp, enjoying the sensation.

Starsky opened his eyes. “Thank you,” he said, turning his head to kiss the palm against his face.

Taken aback, Hutch blinked and shook his head. “What for?”

“Being brave.”

He laughed. “It’s not that hard.”

Starsky gave an evil grin and waggled his eyebrows.

Hutch rolled his eyes. “Pervert… I meant – it’s not hard to kiss you.”

Starsky nodded. “So you say – but I doubt I’d ever have plucked up the courage.”

“Am I really that intimidating?”

Starsky nodded. “Oh, God, yeah…”

“Hey!”

“Relax, I’m teasin’ ya, Blintz.” He reached up traced the edge of Hutch’s face with a finger. “But I’d never have taken the risk of makin’ you mad at me.”

“Mad at you? Never.”

Starsky lay looking at him with a goofy grin all over his face. The covers had been pushed down almost to his waist, and Hutch wondered if it was too soon to touch that magnificent chest.

His free hand came out from the blankets, ready.

“Hey, buddy, can I-?” Starsky paused.

Hutch held his hand still and wondered what outrageous thing his partner was going to suggest, already certain he’d agree, what ever it was.

“Go on.”

“Wouldja mind if I-” He gave an embarrassed grin. “Ya know, cuddled up?”

Hutch almost laughed. On a list of things he’d imagined Starsky would ask for, that one must have been a tiny codicil at the bottom of page fourteen.

“Of course you can.”

“Thanks, Blintz.” Starsky smiled and moved over to wriggle in close to Hutch. His head lay down on a shoulder and his leg immediately slid between Hutch’s, parting them in a way that sent a faint-inducing rush of blood to his groin.

“Comfortable?” Hutch asked, sliding his arm around Starsky’s neck and pulling him closer.

“Oh, yeah,” he mumbled, nestling in. “Wonderful.” He rested his hand on Hutch’s stomach.

Hutch smiled. “Good.” He lay there for a long while, reveling in the closeness. Eventually he tapped the tanned shoulder.

“Starsky…”

“Uh-huh,” came the sleepy reply.

“You asleep?”

He grunted. “Not any more.”

Hutch smiled. “Guess what?”

“What?”

“Guess.” He said nothing more, just waited for Starsky to give in.

The other man sighed and put his head up to look. “Babe, you’re killin’ me. What?”

Dropping a kiss on his upturned forehead, Hutch grinned. “Better get a good night’s sleep tonight. I think we should go to bed early, tomorrow.”

Hutch grinned down and wiggled his eyebrows.

It was a while before he could stop smiling at the memory of the look on Starsky’s face.

 

Chapter 16

Starsky had rolled off his shoulder during the night and was now lying on his back almost in the center of the bed, arms outstretched, looking like the male lead in a debauched crucifixion fantasy.

Hutch lay, propped on one elbow, staring down in wonder at the other man. No, not Christ-like, he thought — Starsky was more like some mischievous imp. Devilish, but without a drop of malice.

The dark head was turned to one side, the unruly hair thoroughly mussed up.

Hutch grinned and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. He pushed his hand out from under the blanket and stretched across to hover above Starsky’s sternum.

With every breath his partner took, his palm was tickled by the fine hairs.

“Havin’ fun?”

Hutch jumped guiltily. “Sorry.”

“You don’t hafta apologize,” Starsky smiled. “And don’t feel you hafta stop.”

Hutch laughed taking his hand away. “I was just-” He felt himself blushing. “Well, playing, I guess.”

Starsky spread his arms out further. “I’m all yours, baby blue. Play away.”

The temptation to take the other man up on that was almost overwhelming. He cleared his throat. “You okay?”

Starsky stretched. “Oh, yeah. I slept like a log.”

“No, I mean — are you okay with…?” He pointed at himself.

He watched Starsky consider the question carefully.

In the cold light of day, he supposed the other man might to feel a little weird, the fact that they had kissed and serious enjoyed it. But judging by the look on his face, his partner’s considerable masculine pride didn’t appear to be jumping up and down in disgust.

“Yeah,” Starsky said at last. “I’m okay with this.”

“You sure?”

He laughed. “This your way of gracefully backin’ out, on me Blintz?”

Hutch shook his head, an answering smile on his face. “No.”

Starsky’s expression stilled. “I am okay with this, buddy. With us.” He stroked the back of his hand down Hutch’s face. “Like you said — it’s been a long time coming.”

Hutch released a breath. “Yeah. I guess it has.”

“But it’s always been there, I think.” Starsky looked thoughtful. “There’s always been love, there between us.”

“Yes.” Hutch nodded, his face rubbing the fingers that lay on his cheek. “So it’s okay, then?”

Starsky rolled his eyes. “Geez, Blintz. It’s not enough I sucked your tongue last night?”

Hutch pulled a face and Starsky laughed.

“Hear me, blondie – I’m okay with this. Okay?”

Hutch nodded. “Okay.”

“Good, coz it’s your turn to make breakfast.” Starsky stretched and grinned, pulling the covers up to his chin.

Shaking his head, Hutch smiled. “Bastard.”

“Love you too, babe.”

Hutch hesitated, then nodded. “I know.”

Starsky’s stomach rumbled, cutting through the moment.

“Jesus,” Hutch shook his head.

“Hey — I’m starvin’!”

“Sure, you’re just wasting away.” Hutch poked him through the covers.

“Feed me!”

Rolling his eyes, Hutch levered himself out of bed.

“Hey – nice view,” came the chuckle from behind him.

He glanced back, smiling and frowning at the same time. “Behave.”

Starsky looked at him with an expression that was anything but innocent. “I was only sayin’.”

“Hhhhmmmm.” Hutch gave him a mock stare. He pulled a tee shirt over his head. “Whaddya want? Eggs and bacon as usual?”

Starsky shook his head. “Nah. Think I’ll go the English muffin and cereal way, this morning.”

“Okay, partner – coming up.” He tossed a grin over his shoulders at the sight of Starsky, nestled deep in the covers and wandered through to the kitchen, his mind already dashing ahead to the next time he’d see his partner in bed.

Tor was sitting on the table, her hand deep in the cereal box. “You look pleased with yourself.” She said licking crumbs from her fingers. “He finally slip you the sausage?”

Hutch’s mouth dropped open and a furious blush ran over his entire body.

“*Victoria*!”

“Oh, chill. S’not like it’s any great secret ya dig the guy.” She rolled her eyes and swung her legs against the table leg.

“No, I…”

“God! Do you think I’m totally dense or what?” She pointed at Hutch, a pink cereal stuck to her finger. “You can’t keep your eyes offa him.”

Hutch scowled. “I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

“Yeah, right.”

Bluff it out, he told himself. The little mix had absolutely no proof. None whatsoever.

“You have a very overactive imagination, Victoria.”

A sticky hand jabbed at him. “Ah! Busted.”

He frowned. “What?”

“You called me ‘Victoria’ twice. You only do that when you’re pissed at me.”

Hutch tightened his jaw. Out-flanked by a teenager. He must be losing his touch.

“No, actually – I’m mad at you because you used a vulgar phrase.”

“Uh-huh. Yeah, course.” Tor gave him a knowing look and slid down off the table. “So what’s for breakfast, Juliet?”

Hutch clenched his teeth and went to the fridge. “Muffins for us, but you get cereal. Remember?”

Tor laughed and tipped the box up, a sprinkle of dust falling to the floor.

“This mean I get muffins, too?”

Hutch gazed at the mess on the floor and sighed. Parenthood really, really sank.

***

Tor threw herself on the grass in front of the porch and screeched at the top of her lungs. “If I don’t do somethin’, I am going to SCREAM!”

“You just did,” Starsky informed her looking over the edge of the comic he was reading.

“I can scream louder,” she snapped back. “Want me to prove it?”

“Not really.”

Hutch glanced over at Starsky. “Well?”

His partner looked back at him. “Well what?”

“She’s your daughter.”

That’d made him laugh. “Oh, no. I think there are adoption papers around somewhere.”

“You won’t be able to argue about whose child I am if I die of boredom, will ya?” The sprawled figure on the grass rolled over and glared at them.

“Oh, I don’t know. We could give it a shot.”

That got Hutch a tongue.

Better than a finger, he supposed. Perhaps they were making progress.

“How ’bout we check out the fields over by the woods?”

Hutch raised his eyebrow at the suggestion. “I thought you hated the outdoors?”

Tor shrugged. “Better’n sittin’ here staring at you two dorks.”

“Be nice, or these ‘dorks’ won’t give you a ride any place.”

Tor sighed and rolled her eyes.

“They’re gonna drop outta your head one day, you keep rollin’ ’em like that,” Starsky said, swatting her on the back of the head as he walked to the back door. “Whaddya say we get some stuff together and have lunch outdoors?”

Tor agreed noisily, and Hutch fought the urge to roll his own eyes. He was under no illusion as to who was going to get stuck with getting the picnic ready.

***

Once they reached the fields, Starsky got it into his head that the cure for boredom was to charge about in a field, throwing a soccer ball at Tor until she didn’t have the breath to moan any more.

Hutch sat on a blanket and tried to read his book.

He stretched out and grinned. This wasn’t so bad, after all. The weather had been good enough to demand shorts from both him and Starsky, and the sight of those strong legs running about on the field was doing wonders for his libido.

How come the man had to look so damned good in short trousers? Hutch mentally forgave that grade school hussy.

“Hey!” he shouted. “Come and get it. I’m starving!”

Grabbing the ball, Starsky jogged up the slight incline. “At last!” he said, collapsing on the blanket. “I thought you’d never call time-out.”

“Wuss,” Tor told him, as she flopped down in front of the cool box and proceeded to root around inside. She produced a cool can and threw it at him. “Here.” She jerked his head at Hutch.

“You want one?”

“Got one,” he replied, holding up a can of iced tea.

They sat quietly and ate, salad, chicken and French bread. Not an elaborate meal, but it was one of the most memorable Hutch could recall. Hot sunshine, the smell of freshly-cut grass and good company.

Tor was in a mellow mood, telling jokes that actually didn’t make them yell. Hutch even dug out a few from his own childhood that went down quite well. Some humor never aged, he thought as Tor fell over laughing at one of the riper ones.

“I’m shocked,” Starsky laughed, flicking a piece of bread across the blanket.

Hutch picked it up and popped it in his mouth. “Of course you are.”

“Can I go see if I can play soccer with that lot?” Tor asked, turning to point at a couple of boys further down the field.

Hutch looked. They were about Tor’s age, probably from the only other family sitting in the park.

“Sure,” he said. “Just don’t wander out of sight, okay?”

“Yes, *mom*,” Tor smiled. She jumped up and regardless to having just eaten and drunk enough to make a Labrador puke, raced off to play ball.

“She makes me tired, just watching,” Starsky said as he gathered up the remains of the meal.

“Energy of the young. How soon you forget.”

He looked. “How old d’you think I am?”

Hutch grinned. “Old enough.”

Starsky lifted an eyebrow. “You got that right.”

He shifted the cool box to the other side of him and shuffled up to sit next to Hutch.

“Do you mind?” he asked.

“Not at all,” he replied, patting the blanket. “Be my guest.”

Smiling, his partner settled himself back on his elbows to look out across the grass.

“This is nice. Beats the squad room.”

“Sure does.”

“But you’d miss it, eventually.”

Starsky snorted gently. “Maybe in a few hundred years.” He squinted into the sunshine. “You ever tempted?”

“By?”

“This kinda life?”

Hutch sighed. “I don’t know. Maybe…” he shrugged. “Sometimes.”

“Me too.” He didn’t say anything more, just carried on staring across the park.

Hutch was just about to concede to the warmth and the food by closing his eyes for a moment, when he heard Starsky speak.

“Wonder what she’s after?”

“Huh?” Dragging his lids back up, Hutch watched Tor haring back towards them.

She crashed to his knees, gasping, attacking the cool box.

“Whassup?” Starsky asked.

“Soda-” she panted. “More soda!”

Grabbing a can, she popped the tab and chugged back a good three-quarters of it without pausing for breath. Then she wiped her arm across her mouth and let out a gut-ripping belch.

“God, Tor!” Hutch pulled a face.

“What?!”

“You’re not very lady-like, are you?” Starsky nudged her with his sneaker.

Shrugging, Tor tipped the rest of the soda down her throat. “Who the hell wants to be a ‘lady’?”

Her tone left no confusion over her opinion on that.

“Doesn’t your mother complain about your-” Hutch pulled a face. “This unfortunate ‘gas’ issues?”

Tor laughed. “Nah. She’s cool about it. ‘Better out than in’, she says.” She waved her hand. “‘Better up than down’.”

Hutch winced and exchanged a look with Starsky. They must either be very old, or incredibly out of touch.

Clearing his throat, unsure of what to say to the last comment, Starsky pointed down the hill. “They playin’ nice with you?”

Tor grinned. “Yes, Daddy.”

“And are you playing nice with them?” Hutch added, thinking that was the more relevant question.

“For the time being,” she replied with a wink. “Hey – aren’t you two supposed to be doing the undercover thing?”

Hutch raised his eyebrow. “We’ve brought you to the park for a family picnic. I think that’s pretty much undercover, don’t you?”

“Nah.” Tor sat back on her heels. She waved her hand. “You’re supposed to be shackin’ up like you was married. You ain’t hardly even talking.”

Starsky chuckled. “Sounds like a perfect imitation of married life to me.”

“Very funny.” Tor slapped her hand against his leg. “Ya know what I mean.”

“Do I?”

“Yeah.” She leaned forward and pulled a face. “You could at least hold hands.”

Hutch could have sworn she saw Starsky blush a little at that. “You think that’d help the illusion?” he asked.

“You’re makin’ fun of me,” Tor accused, pouting. She stood up and folded her arms. “Well, if ya ask me, your non-tactile behavior is severely damaging my sexual development. As my parental units you should be settin’ a positive example of affection within a stable relationship.”

She paused, glaring at Starsky. “If I grow up to be a lesbian, it’ll be all *your* fault!”

And then she was off, running over the grass towards the soccer game.

Hutch looked slowly and unbelievingly at Starsky, then burst out laughing.

“Oh, Starsk… Your face!”

Starsky stared at the other man, mouth still unhinged, eyes wide and Hutch gave in to a fresh wave of giggles.

“What the HELL was that?” Starsky asked, shaking his head.

Wiping his eyes and sitting back up, Hutch smiled. “I think that was the world’s smallest matchmaker.”

“Matchmaker-” He eyes widened even more. “You been talkin’ to her about-“

“No, Starsky. I haven’t. Credit me with a little discretion. But she’s a girl. They notice things.”

He stared, his eyes catching the sun. “Notice things?”

Hutch shrugged. “My interest in you. Your lack of response.”

He looked amazed. “My lack of…?”

Grinning, Hutch reached over and touched his hand. “Look- It’s taken us how long to get this far?”

He sighed. “Oh.”

“Exactly. She just saw what I was ignoring. And what you weren’t allowing yourself to see.”

“Which was?”

“Attraction.”

“Ah.”

He nodded. “Ah.”

“Maybe I should do something to rectify that then,” he said, leaning closer.

“Maybe you should.” Hutch smiled, watching those sparkling eyes getting closer and closer. He glanced around, checking who was around.

Apart from a group away down by the soccer field, they were alone.

“This is nice,” Hutch said softly.

“Sure is,” Starsky grinned. He slid his hand down and stroked with one finger the skin where Hutch’s tee shirt sleeve ended.

“No fair,” Hutch complained, pulling his arm away.

“Why’s that?” Starsky smirked, running his tongue over his bottom lip.

“I can’t do anything back.”

“Yeah?” He stroked the skin again.

Hutch pouted, trying not to smile. “You play dirty,” he grumbled.

A shot of lust stabbed his in the groin as that finger intruded up the cap sleeve of his shirt.

“Oh, you have no idea…” Starsky purred, laying his head down out of sight to run his tongue over the goose-bumped skin.

“Shit!” Hutch jerked, his hand flying to his arm, taken aback at the sudden wetness.

Starsky grinned. “You were saying?”

“Oh, man. You are in soooo much trouble,” he growled, sitting up and shoving Starsky by the shoulders. The darker man allowed himself to be flung back, and lay there, grinning widely and raising his hands above his head. He stretched, cat-like, blatantly offering himself.

“Do your worst, Blondie.”

Hutch ground his teeth. He growled low in his throat. “Oh, my God, if we were anywhere remotely private, I’d-“

Starsky narrowed his eyes. His voice dropped. “Tell me. Tell me what you wanna do.”

Hutch leaned forward over the prone body, hooking a leg over one of the splayed limbs. He felt a rush of desire at the husky words and the sudden intimacy of their joined skin.

The look on Starsky’s face encouraged him to put a voice to the pictures in his head.

He moved closer. “I wanna unbutton your shirt, real slow, taking my time, sliding my fingers into the gap as I loosened them.” He narrowed his eyes, running his gaze over the well-defined chest in front of him.

“Then I’d slowly ease the material off of your shoulders and slide it down your arms.” He trailed one finger down the inside of a bare arm.

Starsky shivered.

“When I got down to your wrists, I’d use it to bind your hands behind your back so you couldn’t move, and then…” He leaned down until his mouth brushed Starsky’s ear and whispered. “I’d lick every inch of your bare skin.”

Hutch was thrilled to see Starsky’s head turn and his eyes following his tongue as it flicked out to moisten his lips. His stomach tightened at the mental picture of his words.

“And then, Starsky, I’d peel everything else from your body – really, really slowly. And when I’d got you completely naked, I’d spread you out, helpless and sweating, and put my mouth places you’ve only dreamed of.”

Starsky stared up at him, his expression a mixture of stunned amazement and need.

He swallowed.

“Oh-” he said, his voice nothing more than a squeak.

Hutch grinned, knowing that with all his teeth showing he must look like a sex-crazed shark. “Well?”

Starsky’s throat worked again. His chest heaved with every uneven breath he pulled in.

“You er… You put some thought into this, huh?”

“Pretty much.” Hutch used his finger down the back of Starsky’s arm again, delighting in the slight shiver it wrought.

“Uh-huh.” Starsky moistened his lips. A slight smile ticked at his mouth. “How long?”

Hutch shrugged and pushed little hairs back and forth. “Forever, is seems. I just didn’t know it.”

The sound of Starsky’s intake of breath brought their eyes together.

Hutch tilted his head in silent question. And you?

The indigo eyes flashed dangerously at him. That feral spark told Hutch everything he needed to know.

He smiled as the last of his restraint slipped away and he began to move his head closer.

 

Chapter 17

A high-pitched scream brought the pair of them both up off the blanket as if electrocuted.

“Oh, shit,” Starsky breathed. He whipped his head left and right, searching.

“Oh, fuck…” Hutch’s guts contracted in a tight ball, disoriented from the sudden shock. His head whipped left and right. “What the hell…”

Starsky pointed. “There!” he snapped. “By the trash bins!”

Hutch looked, only realizing he was running when he his legs began to hurt.

He raced down the grass towards the girl.

“TOR!” he yelled.

Beside him, Starsky’s bandy-legged but powerful stride ate up the ground faster, and he

began to pull away.

“TOR!” he shouted.

It took a moment, but Hutch’s panicked brain finally understood the scene in front of him.

Tor was in the middle of what looked like an out an out fist-fight with two boys and a small circle of adults standing around looking shocked.

His first thoughts were thank God. No men with guns, knives.

Every know and then, Tor gave a sharp squeal, usually followed by a bellow from one of the boys in the fight.

Panic drove his legs, and he arrived at the scene bare seconds before Starsky ploughed into the crowd, his hands reaching for random arms and legs.

“Hey! Get…. QUIT it!” His shouts rose above the young voices.

Hutch pushed his way between two large women.

“Excuse me,” he shouted, using his elbows to get to the center of the arena. “Let me through.”

Starsky reached out and hauled one of the boys off Tor, dragging him back by the arms. He threw him to the ground, already reaching for the next one.

“OW!” Tor let out another squeal as the boy landed a nasty punch to her cheek.

As Starsky reached her, she lashed out and smacked the kid in the face, a solid round-house punch that made Starsky wince.

He stepped over the flattened boy and reached down for Tor, who grabbed his hand and pulled herself up.

“It’s okay, I gotcha” he muttered, holding on to the girl’s hand, turning to glare at the two boys.

“They started it,” she raged, struggling to turn towards her attackers. “Two against one!”

“She punched Billy!” the first boy yelled, lunching forward. Hutch grabbed him before he had a chance to jump back in.

“Hold it right there, kid!” he yelled, glaring.

“Get offa me!” the boy yelled, pulling at his hand. “DAD! Get him off!”

“Just stop it,” Hutch shouted.

“Hey!”

Hutch felt a large hand descend on his shoulder and jerk him back.

“Take your hands off ma boy.”

He turned around, outraged at being manhandled. “Just what d’you think you’re doing?” he began.

“Let him go,” the man said, giving his shoulder a shake.

“Not until I’m sure he’s not going to hit her again.”

“That little bitch is yours?”

Hutch’s hackles rose. “What d’you say?” He turned to face the man.

“I said she’s a vicious little bitch, that’s what I said,” the man snarled at him, putting his face close.

Hutch stared back, intimidated, but not willing to show it. “She’s nothing of the sort. Now take your hand off me.”

The man stared, and Hutch wondered if he was going to do as he asked, or if this was going to get ugly.

“Hey!” Starsky’s voice rose above the muttering of the crowd. “Don’t touch him!”

Suddenly, his partner was at his side, Tor in one hand, glaring at the man that held his shoulder.

“Take your hands off him,” he said, very quietly.

There was a moment of defiance, then perhaps taking a good look at Starsky’s face, the man let his hand drop.

“If he’s anything like that kid, he was probably going to hit him,” he man snapped.

“I was not!” Hutch was indignant at the suggestion.

The man snorted and Starsky took a step nearer. “You will not touch my friend again, nor will you speak of my daughter in those terms. Is that understood?”

Hutch noticed how easily the appellation ‘daughter’ fell from Starsky’s lips.

“You should keep that kid on a leash,” the man said, glaring at Tor. “Look what she did.”

All eyes turned to the boy on the ground, his nose bleeding, crying miserably.

Starsky glanced down and then stared at the other man. “Seems to me like she defended herself pretty well.”

“She needs a good whipping.”

“Just you try it!” Tor shouted, pulling forward against Starsky’s hand.

“Hush,” he told her, pulling her back to his side.

The man sneered. “Little animal.”

“I told you-” Starsky growled.

Hutch stepped forward. “I think we need to establish what happened, here.”

“She hit me!” The boy still standing held up his shirt. “Look at this!” There was a red mark on his belly, about the size of Tor’s fist, Hutch noted, with a sinking feeling.

“Hit me for no reason!”

“I did not!” Tor lunged towards him, reaching out.

“See what I mean!” he stepped back, cowering behind his father. “She’s nuts!”

Hutch held up his hand. “Tor. Why did you hit him?”

“Because…” she pouted, wiping her hand under her nose.

“Because what?”

“Because he did something I didn’t like.” Tor turned her back.

Hutch tried not to sigh. “What did he do, Tor? We need to know.”

The girl kept her back to everyone. “Doesn’t matter,” she muttered. “Forget it.”

“You gotta be kiddin’!” The boy on the floor scrambled up. “She broke my nose!”

The man grabbed the boy and shoved him forward. “See? See what she did?”

“I’m more interested in *why* she did it,” Starsky stated.

“Cos she’s a vicious little-“

Starsky held up a hand. “Don’t. Just don’t. Y’hear me?”

“Who d’you think you are?” the man demanded, stabbing his finger out towards Starsky’s chest.

“I’m the man telling you to leave well alone, that’s who.” Starsky didn’t raise his voice, didn’t appear to be angry, but Hutch knew the low tone was a deception that hid a monumental temper.

“You don’t frighten me,” the man sneered.

“I don’t intend to frighten anyone,” Starsky told him. “I’m just tellin’ you the way it is.”

Hutch held out a hand to the bleeding boy. “Let me see the damage.”

“No way!”

“I won’t hurt you.”

“Get lost! You’re not comin’ near me!” He slid behind the man.

Hutch rolled his eyes. “Suit yourself.” He turned to Starsky and gave him a meaningful glance. They didn’t need the hassle. “This isn’t getting us anywhere. I think we should go.”

“Uh-huh.” Starsky nodded and took Tor’s hand again. “C’mon.”

They turned to go, but the man stepped in front of them. “Just hang on just one damned minute. You can’t just walk away from this. She prob’ly broke my boy’s nose. What’re you gonna do about that? Doctors cost money.” He looked Hutch up and down.

“I might just have to call the cops.”

With a small sigh, Starsky pulled Tor forward. “I think you need to tell us why you hit him, Tor.” He bent to look the girl in the eye. “We don’t want to involve the cops, do we?” He raised his eyebrows with meaning.

Hutch watched them stare at each other, a battle of wills that had more at stake than any normal teenager’s sense of fair play. He felt a little sorry for the girl, forced into a corner by circumstance. He had no doubt that at any other time, she’d refuse to tell. But things weren’t normal for Tor.

“No-one’s gonna be mad at you, if you just tell the truth, baby,” Starsky said softly.

Tor looked up at him, then over at the two boys. She pouted and frowned, looking more like Starsky’s natural offspring than Hutch could believe.

“C’mon,” he urged. “What’d he do, that made you break his nose?”

Tor smiled limply, her bottom lip caught between her teeth, clearly fighting tears.

“Think it’s really broken?” she asked, with more pride than remorse.

“Oh… I reckon it’s squished beyond reasonable repair,” Starsky smiled. “Now. What did he do to you, sweetheart?”

Tor’s eyes filled at that word. “He … He pulled up my shirt,” She took a breath and the rest came out in a rush. “He pulled up my shirt and vest to look at my-“

She didn’t say any more, just stood there with her lip caught tight, tears shivering miserably in her eyes.

Starsky knelt down quickly, took his in his arms and hugged her tight. “It’s okay; it’s okay, baby,” he whispered, smoothing the wild curls on back of her head.

Anger rose up in Hutch’s belly and he rounded on the boys. “Is this true?” he demanded, hands on hips. “You did that?”

The two boys shuffled. “It wasn’t like that,” the bleeding boy began.

“And just how was it, that you pull up a young girls’ shirt?” he asked loudly.

“I just wanted to see…”

Hutch’s outraged boiled over. “See WHAT!?”

“Hey! Just a minute…” The boy’s father put out a hand.

“No. You wait a minute,” Hutch pointed at his sons. “This is a very serious matter. You *do* realize that your sons have committed a sexual assault?”

The man started to look worried. “Now look… it’s not like that.”

“HOW is it not like that?” Hutch demanded, shaking his head. “They violated her privacy, exposed her body! Hello?” He pointed up towards the road. “You want to call the cops, or shall I?”

The silence was deafening. The only thing Hutch could hear over the blood pounding in his ears was the steady sniffle Tor was making.

The man stared back. “Look. They didn’t mean it.”

“I’m sure.”

“It was just a game, right boys?” He glanced at his sons.

“Yeah,” they agreed, miserably.

Starsky lifted his head up, his eyes glinting dangerously. “That’s the kind of game that leads to women pressing charges, don’t you think?” His voice was cold and hard.

“Didn’t mean nothing by it, man.” The cleaner of the two boys shrugged. “Sorry.”

“I’m not the one that needs an apology,” he snapped.

“Sorry,” he muttered, not meeting Tor’s eye.

“Yeah. Sorry,” the other boy said, staring at his feet.

Tor sniffed and wiped his nose on her arm. “S’okay,” she said, also refusing to look up.

Hutch handed her his handkerchief and touched Starsky’s arm. “Let’s get out of here, okay?”

He nodded, holding the other father’s eye in an icy stare. Without breaking eye contact, he reached down and swung Tor up and held her to his chest.

“Let’s go, sweetheart.”

She settled her arms and legs around his waist and clung like a tear-damp monkey as they moved away from the group, walking briskly up the hill.

“Godamn little shits…” Starsky muttered. “I got a good mind to go back there and kick their fuckin’ asses.”

Hutch heard a wet sniff from where Tor’s head was resting on the broad shoulder.

He shook his head, the fact the child hadn’t challenged Starsky’s swearing telling him all he needed to know about her emotional state.

“Let’s just get out of here.”

Hutch walked over to the blanket and quickly gathered up their stuff. “I’ll get this. You two get in the car. The quicker we get out of here.”

Starsky nodded at him, and stepped over the low rail of the car park.

Stuffing all the picnic things into the cooler, Hutch draped the blanket over his shoulder and hurried to follow them, feeling sick to his stomach.

***

When they got back to the cabin, Hutch suggested Tor take a shower, and to his huge surprise, she agreed without argument or complaint.

Hutch fixed a hot drink while Starsky sorted out the picnic things and generally banged and crashed his way around.

Misplaced aggression, it was called, he thought as something else went flying out in the garage.

He turned around as someone sat in a chair.

“Hi.” She took two mugs over and sat opposite Tor. “Good shower?”

The girl nodded, running her fingers through her wet curls. “S’okay, I guess,” she said in an atypically quiet voice.

“Put extra marshmallows in yours,” Hutch said, pointing to the mug on the table.

“Cool.” Peering in, Tor poked the spongy mass with a finger.

“Here.” Passing over the teaspoon, Hutch caught the girl’s eye and smiled, getting a small one back in return.

They sat companionly, while Tor fished out mallows, dangling the long string into her mouth in a way that turned Hutch’s stomach over. Ordinarily he’d be moaning about that, but he hadn’t the heart.

“Thanks,” Tor said finally, licking the spoon clean.

“For?”

“Not complainin’ about that.” She grinned, looking more like her usual self. “I know it gets to you goin’.”

Hutch laughed. “Make the most of it. I’m back on your case, tomorrow.”

Tor sipped her drink, a slight frown on her face. Eventually, she tilted his head towards the sounds of crashing outside.

“What’s with him?”

“Frustration.”

“Oh.” She sipped his chocolate and then grinned over the rim of her mug. “That’d be sexual frustration, huh?”

“Tor…” Hutch rolled his eyes.

“Well; I saw you, y’know. Out there, on the field.”

Hutch buried his nose in the mug, determined not to blush. “There was nothing to see, Tor. You know what.”

She gave a one-shouldered shrug. “Looked like you wanted t’go for it in a big way, though, huh?”

“Give it a rest, okay?” he sighed.

“If-you-say-so, mommy,” she sing-songed at him.

He glared, feeling too off-balance to really bite. “I hate when you call me that.”

“I know.”

They eyes peered at one another over their mugs like two alley cats, until Tor sighed. “I don’t wanna fight with you, okay?”

Hutch merely looked skeptical.

“I don’t. Honest.”

“Okay…”

“I’m glad you and him are-” she smiled with no malice. “Friends, y’know?”

Hutch arched an eyebrow, admitting nothing.

“You guys look out for each other, huh?”

“Hhhhmm.” Hutch finished his drink and put his mug down. He didn’t feel inclined to discuss his relationship with Starsky. He wasn’t sure what kind of a relationship it was, yet.

“S’nice, anyways.”

He pushed the mug away. There was a wistful tone to her voice that was unsettling. Hutch wasn’t sure why. He shied away from examining it.

“You want to talk to me about what happened, today?”

Tor shook her head, not looking up. “Not really.”

Fair enough. Hutch didn’t think he’d want to talk about it, either.

They both jumped when something else met a violent death in the yard.

“God! What the hell IS his problem?”

“You.”

Tor stared. “What did I do?” Her face clouded over. “I didn’t mean to-“

“No-” Hutch reached out and touched her hand. “Not like that. He’s mad about what happened.”

She frowned again. “I don’t understand.”

Hutch sighed. “Something bad happened to you while he was supposed to be looking after you.”

“It wasn’t his fault, or yours.” She shrugged. “It just happened.”

“I know. Nevertheless, he feels responsible. As do I.”

That required some serious thought and Hutch watched the girl wrestle with it, drawing little circles in the mug-rings on the table.

Hutch wondered if having someone care about what happened to you was a rare thing in Tor’s life.

“It’s okay,” he reassured the child. “He’ll get over it and be right as rain in a while.” He smiled. “Banging about is Starsky’s way.”

Tor smiled and wiped her finger. “Know him inside out, huh?”

Hutch nodded, determined not to be drawn. “Yeah.”

Long minute passed, and then Tor sighed, placing her hand flat on the table.

“You wanna know why they did it?”

Hutch nodded, not pushing. “Sure.”

“Those boys…” Tor blushed. “They didn’t believe I was a girl. That’s why they wanted to see my- ” She bent her head. “You know.”

She didn’t sound angry, just resigned.

Hutch shook his head. “Why didn’t they believe you? You’re so pretty.”

Tor snorted. “I play soccer like a boy. I swear like a boy-” She gave a hollow laugh. “Hell, I even look like one.”

“You do not,” Hutch said, mentally crossing his fingers.

“Yeah, right.” Tor sighed.

“Tor…” he began.

The door slammed and they both turned as Starsky came into the kitchen and turned the faucet on so hard that water sprayed everywhere.

“Oh, Goddammit!” he yelled, jumping back, tee shirt soaked.

The two at the table looked at one another and started to snigger.

“What’s so funny?” Starsky grumbled, wiping at his chest with a dishcloth.

“Nothing, dear,” Hutch said, sending them both into fits again.

Rolling his eyes, Starsky threw the cloth down and sat at the table, grabbing the last mug.

“This mine?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Thanks. He sipped, and finding it cool, gulped it down. “S’good,” he said, banging the mug back and wiping his mouth with his hand.

Hutch winced. “Did you even taste that?”

“Huh?”

He rolled his eyes at Tor. “Never mind.”

“What did I do now?” he grumbled, looking at Tor.

She smiled. “I think he was alludin’ to the fact your drink didn’t touch the sides of your throat.”

He cocked an eyebrow at her and tilted his head. “Alluding?”

Tor sat back and regarded him, archly. “You think I’m stupid?”

“Uh-uh. No.” He shook his head. “Not at all. You jus’ keep surprisin’ me, is all.”

“Yeah, well…” Her face contorted and she looked down at the table, going back to rubbing with her finger. “I’m a regular fuckin’ contradiction.”

Starsky glanced over, confusion on his face, but Hutch shook his head, forestalling the rebuke for the swearing, silently indicating they should wait for a moment.

Starsky nodded and leaned back in his chair.

“I asked for it, I suppose,” she said, eventually. “I mean, I don’t blame them for thinkin’ it. I wouldn’t believe me, either.”

Hutch saw Starsky frown, wondering what she was talking about and he reached over to lay a hand on his arm. As he looked up, Hutch shook his head again.

He thought about his words and spoke carefully.

“Tor – those boys probably just saw it as a perfect opportunity to take a quick peek, you know.”

She shook his head. “Nah. They’re right. I’m not a proper girl.”

“What?” Starsky looked shocked.

“Don’t matter.” Tor shrugged and stood up.

“Just a minute-” Starsky stood up. “Why would you think you’re not-” He waved a hand. “Not – you know.”

Tor smiled grimly. “Take a good look, Monkey Butt. I ain’t gonna win no Beauty Pageants any time soon.”

“But you’re…”

Tor held up her hand and rolled her eyes. “Yeah, yeah. I know. Heard it all before.” She

stuck her hands in her pockets. “You should grow your hair, Frankie. You’re just too butch, Frankie. Go back to fighting with the boys, Frankie.”

“I wasn’t gonna say that,” Starsky told her.

“Yeah, sure you weren’t.”

“Now you’re a mind-reader?”

Tor shrugged . “Not much of a challenge.”

Starsky looked offended. “Gee, thanks.”

Laughing softly, Tor shook her head. “I meant, I know what people think when they look at me.” She snorted. “Hell, I know what *I* think when I look at me. You don’t have to be a genius to know-“

“I think you’re beautiful.” Starsky said quietly.

Hutch watched Tor’s face register what he’d said, disbelief warring with something else.

“Don’t patronize me,” she snapped.

“I’m not.”

“Yeah, right.” She was looking at Starsky with a strange expression on her face.

Hutch smiled. “He’s right, Tor.”

The girl frowned, looking from one to the other, unsure. “I look like a boy.”

Starsky smiled. “You look like a girl that likes doing the same things a boy does. I don’t think you *look* like a boy.”

“Pretty good liar,” she told him, frowning.

Starsky sighed and pointed at her. “Stay there. Don’t move a muscle.”

Tor looked at Hutch as he strode across the room, muttering to himself.

She shrugged. “What’s with him?”

Hutch shrugged back. “Beats me. Sunstroke, maybe?”

Tor laughed softly. “Perhaps we should hose him down in the yard.”

Hutch grinned. “Now there’s a thought.”

“Need to get rid of that shirt, first.

“You think?”

“Naturally. It’d get ruined, otherwise.”

Hutch smiled. Inappropriate conversation or not, it was at least making the girl smile again. “He might put up a bit of a fight,” he said, trying to be serious.

Tor shrugged. “No problem. You got handcuffs, yeah?”

Hutch had to clamp his hand over his mouth to hide his laughter as Starsky came stomping back into the room.

He was clutching a store-bag. “Here.” He thrust it at Tor. “I got this cuz-” He scratched the back of his neck, his cheeks turning an interesting shade of pink. “Well. I just thought you might…”

“What is it?” she asked, making no effort to open the bag.

“Just-” He flapped a hand. “Just open it, okay.”

“But what is it?”

“You’ll see.”

“Can’t you just tell me?”

He threw up his hands. “Are you always this difficult!? Just open the damn thing, okay?”

“Okay, okay… Jeez! Don’t bust a gut.” She plucked at the bag, frowning. She peered in, then lifted her eyes to stare at Starsky.

Hutch watched his partner fidget, positively shuffling from one foot to

the other. He looked very uncomfortable. Tor stared, making him wriggle more. He ran a hand through his hair.

“How come?” she said, eventually.

“I just thought. You might like it.” He pulled a face and sighed. “Oh, hell, I thought it’d look good on you, okay?”

Tor looked down and wordlessly pulled something bright out of the bag. As she unfolded it, Hutch leaned over and looked.

It was the dress he’d picked out at the mall, the first day they’d been ‘parents’.

He looked up and stared at Starsky. He gone ahead and bought it, anyway.

Hutch shook his head slightly. Who’d have thought?

Tor held the dress up to her body, staring down, speechless. It was hard to tell what was going on in her head.

“I… It doesn’t matter,” Starsky was saying. “I know you hate it. I just thought — y’know.”

He gave up in the face of silence and shoved his hands in his pockets, staring at the floor.

“Men, huh? What d’we know?”

Just as Hutch thought Tor was going to stuff the dress back into the bag, her face suddenly screwed up. And then she was launching herself at Starsky, sliding her arms round his waist, burying his head in his chest, holding on as if possessed.

The look on Starsky’s face was priceless. He staggered back, unsure if he was going to get another bite, or knee in the balls. Eventually, he pulled his hands out of his pockets and rested them on Tor’s back and patted gingerly.

“Hey… It’s okay. It’s just a stupid dress.”

Tor said nothing, just clung. Starsky looked over his head to Hutch. He looked more than a little panicky.

Hutch winked. Nice move, he told him with a smile.

After a while, Tor pushed away and wiped her arm under her nose, making both Hutch and Starsky wince.

“It’s great,” she sniffed, looking at the dress in his hand. “Thanks, Monkey Butt.”

“No problem,” he shrugged. “You’ll look great in it.”

Tor looked at him. “Y’think?”

“Oh, yeah.” He ducked his head to look at her. “Trust me. I used to be a boy, once. I know ’bout these things.”

“And there’s me thinking you used to be a little girlie,” Hutch laughed.

Tor grinned. “With those muscles? I don’t think so.”

Hutch nodded. “You may have a point, there.”

“And that butt.”

“Oh, mustn’t forget the butt,” he laughed.

Starsky rolled his eyes, reddening even further. He grabbed the dish towel and threw it at Hutch. “How did this suddenly become about me?”

“You’re just lucky, I guess.” Hutch threw the cloth back at him.

“I’m gonna leave you two children to it. Call me for supper.” Tor handed the empty bag to Starsky with a grin and wandered off to her room, inspecting her gift.

“That was a nice thing you did,” Hutch said with a smile.

Starsky found something fascinating on the work surface. “Uh-huh.”

Hutch tilted his head, watching the fingernail scratching away. “It was.”

“Whatever.” Starsky squirmed. He glanced about the kitchen. “I’m hungry.”

Hutch stood up, knowing when to stop pushing. “You’d better check the fridge, then. Can’t have you starving to death, can we? You chop, I’ll cook.”

Sighing, Starsky finally looked up at him. “Fine. But I get to decide what we’re having.”

“Fine. But no garlic,” Hutch told him, glancing over his shoulder.

“But I like-” His eyebrows rose and a shy grin spread over his face. “Oh. Yeah. Sure. No garlic.”

 

Chapter 18

Hutch fiddled with the cutlery, lost in thought.

Witness Protection had called an hour ago to tell them that Tor’s mother had completed her testimony and they had instructions to take Tor to a rendezvous point tomorrow, where she would be re-united with her mom. Then they would both disappear into Witness Protection.

A happy ending, sure, but Hutch couldn’t help feel a little pang of disappointment that the whole experience was coming to an end.

He’d enjoyed playing house more than he’d ever imagined. Despite wandering over the line of ‘difficult’ most of the time, Tor had been good company.

But the chance to be with Starsky as he worked on a whole new level had been nothing short of incredible.

He smiled, putting the last of the cutlery on the table. The way things were shaping up, he and Starsk were going to move to a whole new level in their relationship, and that was just fine by him.

They had prepared dinner in a slow burn of eroticism, hands brushing one another, small smiles and touches. Both of them mentally racing ahead to later. It served to put him on a slow-heat setting for later, and by the look in Starsky’s eyes, it was doing the same thing for him.

When most everything was done, he’d handed over a beer and told the other man to watch the potatoes while he went to change clothes.

No way did he want to spend their last meal here in cut-offs and tee shirt.

“Dinner’s ready!” he called, turning off the cooker. He untied the chef’s apron from round his waist and smoothed his shirt down. He’d only brought the one proper shirt – his favorite dark green satin, the one that was far too expensive to wear to work.

“Hi.” Starsky appeared at the kitchen doorway. Hutch did a double-take as he put the salad on the table. His partner had disappeared nearly an hour ago, and now he saw what he’d been up to.

He too had changed his clothes, in unspoken agreement.

Hutch looked him up and down. “You look nice.”

The darker man was wearing a powder blue shirt that brought out the color of his eyes. It was tucked into a pair of dark blue pants. Almost as if he knew Hutch liked him in that color best.

As he walked over, he put out his hand to touch the side of Starsky’s face. “You shaved.”

Cologne drifted over with him, and he inhaled, taking the familiar scent deep inside his body. Everything about his partner seemed to hold an erotic charge for him lately.

“Uh-huh.” Starsky turned his head to kiss the palm of the hand.

Shivers ran up the backs of Hutch’s legs. “For my benefit?”

“Could be.” Starsky smiled back and planted another quick kiss on him. “Anything I can do to help?”

“Nope. All ready.” Starsky was leaned against the counter, with a grin on his face.

“What’re you looking so pleased about, mister?” Hutch demanded, smiling.

“Oh, nothin’.”

Hutch snorted. “Yeah – looks like ‘nothing’.” He tossed the dishcloth across the table at him. “And just where did you disappear to?”

“When?”

“While I was slaving away over a hot stove, as if you didn’t know!”

He grinned, plucking the towel from his front. “Out.”

Hutch frowned. “Out where?”

Tapping the side of his nose, Starsky laughed. “Ah-ah.”

“You’re very annoying, you know that?”

Starsky shrugged. “It’s been said.”

Hutch grunted, biting his lip with the comments that he could have made, instead, pulling dishes out of the oven. He glanced over to Tor’s room. “Give the creature a shout, will you. I think she’s gone deaf.”

Starsky put two fingers up to his mouth. “Cover your ears.”

Hutch was very grateful he obeyed, as the other man let loose with an outstandingly piercing whistle.

“TOR! DINNER!”

As the last of the noise died away, Hutch took his hands away. “Good Lord. That was…” He shook his head. “Loud.”

He grinned. “Best way to get attention.”

“I’ll bet.”

Tor walked into the kitchen, wearing the dress Starsky had bought.

“If either of you laugh at me, it’s goin’ straight in the trash,” she told them, blushing.

No-one spoke for a minute. Then Starsky gave a completely different kind of whistle.

“No-ones gonna laugh, sweetheart, you look-” He nodded. “Terrific.”

She gave him a half-hopeful look. “Yeah?”

“Absolutely.”

The dress was a good fit, the colors suiting her.

“He’s right, Tor,” he said moving to walk round her, admiring. “You look really great.”

“The boots are bit funny,” she said, shuffling his feet. “But I didn’t have anything else.

“I think they look just fine,” Starsky said with a nod.

“Adds your own personal touch to the whole thing,” Hutch smiled. “And I bet it makes you feel more comfortable.”

Tor grinned. “Yeah, I can’t do heels.”

“You want to try working all day in them. They’re murder.” Hutch teased.

“I know what you mean,” Starsky laughed. “He just about ruins his ankles chasing the bad guys in them.”

The girl rolled her eyes.

Starsky winked. “C’mon. Let’s eat, I’m starved.”

***

Salmon poached in lemon and butter, new potatoes, salad and the last of the French bread all disappeared along with most of a bottle of wine. They laughed at jokes, told silly stories and generally enjoyed a relaxed and sociable meal.

Hutch admitted to peeing his underpants in the 3rd Grade and having to spend the day

Damp and terrified of discovery; closely followed by the tale of smoking his first cigarette and throwing his guts up at 12.

Starsky confessed to letting down one tire on each of the entire faculty’s vehicles at age seventeen, and riding ten miles home on a borrowed motorbike, stark naked.

“Without getting caught?” Tor’s eyes widened.

Starsky nodded. “Uh-huh. Took the back streets and lanes.” He shook his head. “Froze my ass off, but no-one saw.”

“Wouldn’t have been much *to* see, if you were that cold,” Hutch leaned over and muttered, while Tor took the plates over to the sink. He smirked at the look Starsky gave him.

“You think it’ll take long to get to the airfield?” Tor asked, gathering up the used glasses.

“You looking forward to seeing your mom?” Hutch asked.

“Yeah.” Tor plucked at the dress and grinned. “She’ll shit a brick when she sees me in this.”

“Language-“

“Sorry. But she will.”

“Shouldn’t take too long,” Starsky told her. “They picked one half way between, on purpose.”

“Cool. So no early morning getting up?”

He smiled. “No early morning getting up.”

“Good.”

Hutch glanced over to his partner and winked.

***

This time Hutch joined in the board game. They all sprawled on the carpet and Starsky proceeded to soundly beat both of them.

“No fair!” complained Tor, handing over hundreds of dollars for the second time in five minutes.

“Hey… It’s not my fault you both stink at this.” Starsky counted the money. “You’re fifty bucks short, madam.” He held his hand out. “Hand it over.”

Tor pulled a face and sighed. “You gotta be cheatin’ somehow.”

“Uh-uh.” He tucked the cash away. “You’re just a bad loser.”

The three of them were sprawled out comfortably, bowls of chips between them, sodas perched on the low table. Hutch was surprised to find himself not caring in the least that he was scrunched up on the floor in an expensive shirt.

“Bet you’re glad you didn’t wanna play the other day,” Starsky grinned, shaking the dice under his nose.

He pushed the hand away. “Shut up and roll, Starsky.”

“Temper, temper.” He threw a three and landed on one of Tor’s properties. “Oh, damn.”

Laughing, Tor tapped the board. “Pay up. Loser.”

“Peanuts!” he snorted.

“Just give me my money, or I’ll…”

“Or you’ll what? Lose the game?” He laughed, peeling two bills from his pile of money.

“Here y’go, baby. Buy yourself somethin’ nice.”

She reached over and dug a finger into his ribs. “Pig!”

Grunting, he wriggled away. “Hey! Don’t mess with the man that owns more than half the board, woman!”

“Only through cheatin’!” she grumbled.

“Hey! Just because I prove men are better than feeble females at *serious* business…”

He laughed at the look on her face and pointed. “Loser!”

“Chauvinist pig,” Tor cried, stretching to poke him again.

He flinched. “I just tell it like it is, woman. And just quit that, will you!”

A glimmer of reckless glee flickered in Tor’s eyes. She flicked his gaze up to meet Hutch’s. Was he-? Hutch caught her meaning and nodded.

She ran her fingers down Starsky’s side again, just to check.

He flinched away. “Jeez, Tor! Quit it!”

Hutch leaned over the board and whispered in Tor’s ear.

“Yeah?” she said, a grin spreading.

“Oh, definitely,” Hutch said, getting up to a sitting position.

“You two planning the terms of your defeat?” he grinned.

“Not exactly.” Hutch looked at Tor.

“So you really think we should?” Tor raised her eyebrows at him.

Hutch glanced at Starsky’s smug face. “Absolutely.”

“Oh, Starsky,” he said, nodding at Tor, who began to move silently around the board.

“What?”

“I think Tor just found out a secret about you.”

He frowned, distracted, counting out handfuls of money. “Oh yeah? Whassat?”

He was dead meat. He just didn’t know it yet. Tor caught Hutch’s eye and raised an eyebrow.

Hutch nodded, grinning. “Oh, just something that you should never, ever let a woman find out.”

He looked up, innocent and clueless. “Uh-huh?”

Hutch knee-walked over to him, and gazed down, his insides positively squirming in anticipation.

On his other side, Tor crept up, grinning widely.

“That you…” Hutch leaned closer.

“Uh-huh?”

“Are…” He moved closer, watching Starsky’s eyes widen. “Very…” They were almost touching.

“What?”

“Very-” He grinned. “Ticklish!!”

With wild cries of triumph, they both pounced, grabbing the dark haired man, digging their fingers into his sides and under his arms. Yelling, Starsky flipped over, trying to ward off the four hands relentlessly poking into his ribs.

They prodded and squeezed – Starsky wriggled, squirmed and shouted, but they ignored the breathless demands. There was no mercy.

Tor took hold of his hands and held them down while Hutch walked his fingers over his sides, listening to Starsky yelp and howl.

Hutch moved to sit on his partner’s legs to keep them still, while Tor squirrelled his fingers in his armpits.

She leaned upside down over his red face, grinning insanely. “Now who’s the loser, Monkey Butt?!”

Pinned down on his back, Starsky howled threats and promises.

Out of breath, Hutch sat back, pausing for a moment. He pushed the hair from his face and held his hand up to Tor to stop. They both looked down at a red-faced Starsky.

“Stoppit!” he gasped, pulling in a great lungful of air.

“Or else?” Hutch asked, folding his arms.

“An’ I’ll let you both live,” Starsky panted with a grin.

Hutch laughed. “You’re hardly in a position to threaten anyone, Mister Tickly.”

“Please, Hutch-“

“Oh, so it’s ‘please’ now, is it?” He laughed, reaching down to slowly lift the hem of the blue shirt. “Well, well. What do we have here?”

Starsky pushed feebly at Hutch’s hands, trying to sit up. “Gimme a break!”

“Say please…” he ordered, pausing.

“I already did!”

“Humor me.”

Starsky sighed and rolled his eyes. “*Please*. Okay?”

Hutch looked down at his face and briefly contemplated mercy.

“C’mon, man,” Starsky complained. “You weigh a ton.”

Eye wide with indignation, Hutch swooped, yanking Starsky’s shirt up to get at bare skin, reducing him to a wriggling mess, helpless with laughter.

“HUTCH!!!” Starsky screeched between gasps, pushing weakly at his hands. “Oh, God- stop!”

“Hey – here y’go.”

Hutch looked up to see Tor holding a wet hand out to his. Her fist unfolded to reveal a handful of ice cubes. “I think someone needs to be taught a lesson about our game-playing superiority, don’t you?”

Hutch laughed delightedly. The kid was more than okay. “Thank you, Tor.” He took the cubes. “Hang on to him, will you?”

Starsky’s hands were grabbed and pinned down. “What the hell?”

“Just relax, Starsky. This won’t hurt.”

Showing him a dripping hand, Hutch grinned at the look on his face.

“Aw- no. Hutch…” He shook his head, starting to struggle. “C’mon- I didn’t mean it – honest. You’re not fat!”

He shook his head. “Too late, I’m afraid. You need a little lesson in manners.”

The cubes dipped to his stomach and Starsky let out a howl.

“JEEEEEZUS CHRIIIIST!!”

Almost doubled over with laughter, Hutch dragged his freezing hand from one side of his partner’s belly to the other.

“Oh, now, Starsky, what would your Mama say if she heard you say that?”

Starsky struggled, lifting up with his thighs.

All of a sudden, the feel of the writhing body under Hutch’s became something else.

He felt a blush rise, the sensation of strong legs moving under his butt changing the agenda from fun, into something altogether more primitive.

Starsky’s firm stomach, glistening with water drew his eyes. He had an unbelievably strong urge to bend down and lick the drops of water from the hairy skin.

Damn.

This wasn’t the time or the place. He’d better finish this before he got carried away. Besides, it was getting harder to hold the other man down.

“Hey, Tor- he said, winking. “Get ready,” he warned, indicating his dripping handful and then Starsky’s hands.

Tor nodded, understanding.

“And just so you don’t forget this in a hurry, Starsk-“

He grinned wickedly, pulled up the waistband of Starsky’s pants and shoved all the melting cubes down as he leaped aside.

“AWWWWW!!!…”

They circled the thrashing man on the floor and stood side by side, holding on to each other’s hands, creased up with hysterical laughter as Starsky curled into a ball and jammed his hand down his pants, still yelling.

Ice cubes flew across the carpet as he frantically pulled them from his pants.

Finally fishing the last one out, he collapsed on his back, arms out stretched, his eyes tightly shut, groaning.

Hutch had a wicked flashback to that morning in bed, with him lying just like that.

Starsky moaned, rolled over and lay in the ice-puddles.

Hutch opened his mouth to tell him he was getting soaked, but his mouth snapped shut as the other man got to his knees, still face-down on the carpet, giving them both a wonderful view of his ass.

Hutch glanced at Tor who was transfixed by the view. He didn’t blame the girl one bit.

Starsky pulled himself up to his knees and stared down at the front of his pants in dismay.

He plucked at the soggy material.

“You wet my pants,” he complained, looking decidedly miserable.

“Oh, get over it!” Tor scoffed. “It’s only water. Won’t kill you.”

Starsky grunted and pulled at his crotch in disgust.

“Maybe you should change your pants,” Hutch suggested, his body half hoping he’d ask for a hand.

Starsky pulled himself up on the sofa, sighing dramatically. “Bullies…” he muttered, his hands going to his top button.

Hutch’s guts leaped. “Erm… Starsky,” he said, watching as the other man unzipped his pants and stood up.

“What?” Starsky stood up with opened pants, fixing him with a puzzled expression.

Hutch nodded to down below his waist. “You think that’s appropriate?”

Starsky looked down. Then back up.

“I have underwear on,” he pointed out, dropping his pants to prove his point. He shoved them down and began to kick them off his socked feet.

“I think you should be the one to put them in the drier, don’t you?”

He bent over, picked them up and tossed them over. “As it was you that got ’em wet in the first place.”

Hutch caught an armful of warm Starsky-pants, one leg whipping his in the face. He removed them from his head. “You are such a bad loser, David Starsky.”

The other man grunted as he sat on the sofa, the bottom of his shirt barely covering his groin. Hutch tried not to look.

Starsky crossed his feet on the table and folded his arms.

“Probably,” he said with a stubborn pout. “But I think you owe me.”

Sighing, Hutch screwed up the pants.

He supposed he was right and besides, he couldn’t keep his eyes off those strong legs, all stretched out. It was all he could do to stop himself from going over there and lifting the hem of that shirt.

“Okay, okay…” he muttered, moving over to the kitchen. “And I suppose I get to make the coffee, as well?”

“Uh-uh,” Starsky called, pointing at the girl. “Tor gets to do that. The ice cubes were her idea.”

Tor snorted. “Gee, thanks a bunch, Daddy.”

“Play dirty, get dirty, baby.”

Oh yes, Hutch thought, smiling to himself as he stuffed the pants in the drier. He planned on playing dirty, all right.

 

Chapter 19

Tor informed them she was going to bed straight after her drink, using the bathroom noisily, singing some loud chart-tune as she brushed her teeth.

She wandered back into the lounge in her over-sized Redskins tee shirt trailing Starsky’s pants from one hand, a book in the other.

“Here,” she said, throwing them at the lounging man. “Put some clothes back on, will ya? God knows what damage you’re doin’ to my impressionable mind, sitting there like that.”

Starsky caught the pants and began to fold them neatly. “Impressionable, my a….” He paused, aware of what he was about to say.

Hutch laughed. “I think she’s seen enough of THAT particular area, tonight.”

“I was gonna say ‘armpit’.”

“Yeah, right.” Tor walked behind the sofa, pausing lean over the edge. “I’m gonna go to bed. I’ll see you children in the morning.”

“Night, schweetheart,” Starsky said, reaching back to wave. “We’ll give you a shout when we need to make a move.”

Hutch tilted his head. “G’night.”

Tor grinned. “Don’t you two kiddies stay up too late, y’hear? You could do with an early night.” She leaned over and tugged on Starsky’s hair.

“Hey!”

Scampering off, Tor laughed, slamming her bedroom door on the way.

“Damn kid,” Starsky muttered with no real malice, rubbing his head.

Hutch reached up to pat his hand. “There, there. Didn’t hurt that much.”

Starsky gave his one of his lop-sided grins. “Might’ve.”

“Big baby.”

Hutch smiled, his mind already racing ahead the next couple of hours.

Starsky smiled back, he wondered if the other man was aware of what he was

thinking – and if he was thinking the same.

“So…” Starsky said, stretching both hands out in front of him. What d’you wanna do? Another beer, or-” His voice trailed off. “What?”

Hutch looked at those long fingers and felt his stomach turn over in a lazy flip.

“How about… Another beer *and* ‘what’?”

Raising his eyebrows, Starsky gave a wide grin. “Sounds good t’me. I’ll get the booze, you lock up.”

He stood up in one smooth movement and held his hand out.

Hutch slipped his hand into it and allowed Starsky to pull him up to stand incredibly close to that broad chest. “Hi,” he said, the breath catching in his throat.

Up close the intensity of Starsky’s deep blue eyes was incredible. They pinned him like a bug on a wall, slicing directly through his insides.

He watched as Starsky’s gaze trailed down his face. The other man was staring intently at the Hutch’s mouth.

Reading the expression, Hutch made the last little move forward and let his eyes slide shut as he touched their lips together.

The kiss was warm and soft. Starsky’s mouth submitted and opened up under the gentle pressure, but as his tongue dancing briefly over silky lips, Hutch moved away.

Starsky opened his eyes. “What?”

“Not here,” Hutch whispered, his gaze flicking to Tor’s door.

“Yeah,” Starsky cleared his throat. “Let’s go.”

Hutch allowed himself the brief pleasure of watching Starsky’s butt as he moved to get two more bottles of beer from the fridge.

He hurried to lock up both outside doors and check all the windows, and by the time he was done, his partner was standing at the bedroom door, legs bare, looking reckless and rakish.

Hutch moved to stand with him, smiling in anticipation. “Hey, there.”

“Hey.”

“You okay?” Hutch asked, praying the other man wasn’t having second thoughts.

Starsky tilted his head to one side and regarded him. “Uh-uh. How ’bout you, baby blue?” he asked softly, no hint of accusation in his voice.

Hutch shook his head. “No way.” He was sure the smile on his face would be reassurance enough.

“Okay, then.” Starsky smiled. “After you,” he rumbled in a deep, sexy voice, waving his hand at the door.

Hutch shook his head, amused at the formality. He entered the room and stopped.

There were candles; one the dresser, one on the window ledge. Hutch stared, astounded at the thoughtful touch.

“This okay?” a gentle voice asked from behind.

“Starsk-” The words caught in Hutch’s throat. The dim light gave the room a flickering glow that matched the mood completely. Just when he thought he knew Starsky inside out.

Strong hands settled on his shoulders. “I though candlelight would be better than the electric.” Starsky whispered into the side of his neck. “I wanna see you.”

Shuddering slightly at his words, Hutch leaned back to rest against his chest.

“Yes,” he whispered.

Hands brushed the hair at his neck, sending a shiver down Hutch’s spine. Turning in Starsky’s arms and pulled him further into the glowing room. He kicked the door shut behind him and smiled.

“Hi,” he said again, smiling.

“Hi, yourself.”

Hutch slid his arms up Starsky’s arms feeling the hard biceps. He ran his palms up over the sleeves of the shirt and around his neck, wondering at the fact they both felt comfortable doing this.

“So-” he said, arching his neck as strong fingers ran through his hair at the back of his head. “Are you gonna just stand there – or are you going to kiss me?”

Starsky grinned. “That would be my pleasure, Blintz,” he rumbled, his lips still moving as he touched them together.

Hutch allowed himself to sink into the kiss. He opened his mouth and welcomed the other man inside, meeting his tongue with enthusiasm.

Tasting beer and aftershave, he gave himself over to the pleasure of the sensations.

And at last, when they parted, panting slightly, he looked the other man straight in the eyes.

“We really shouldn’t be doing this,” he said.

“Probably not,” Starsky replied. “But it sure feels good.”

He kissed his partner softly on the corner of his mouth and slid their cheeks together. “You know… If you want, we can stop now, before we go any further,” he whispered, his gentle words goosing up Hutch’s skin.

“I want this, but I don’t wanna do anything that makes you uncomfortable, buddy.”

He brushed his lips over Hutch’s neck. “You mean too much to me,” he breathed.

Hutch shivered, both touched and surprised at the words.

“I know,” he whispered back. “Oh, God, Starsk….”

He leaned in and took Starsky’s mouth firmly, angling his head to one side and pulling it to his with both hands, letting his partner know exactly how he felt about stopping.

Starsky growled into his mouth, making Hutch smile.

“What?” Starsky asked, looking up as Hutch pulled away.

He shook his head. “Nothing. Just my sense of the ridiculous, I guess.”

“Gee, thanks.”

Hutch laughed. “I didn’t mean that.”

“What then?”

Hutch tore his eyes away and reached up to stroke Starsky’s cheek. Perfectly smooth.

He smiled. “I won’t ever hear the words ‘undercover operation’ without smiling.”

A low chuckle rumbled out of Starsky’s chest. “Tell me ’bout it.”

Hutch slid his hands down his arms and pushed backwards, guiding Starsky towards the bed. Bumping his knees against the mattress, the dark haired man plopped down. Hutch stood in front of him, contemplating.

Starsky smiled up. “What’re you thinkin’? An’ should I be worried?”

Hutch nudged his knees, ignoring the question. “Open up.”

Starsky held his eyes as he slowly parted his knees, allowing his partner to step forward between them.

“S’that better?” he asked, his voice low and rough.

“Uh-huh.”

It certainly was. Hutch moved closer, feeling the heat from Starsky’s bare thighs burning his. He gazed down. His partner was sitting calmly enough, but there was a hint of something in his eyes that suggested vulnerability.

Hutch smiled. He inched closer and put his hand out to run his palm over the other man’s cheek, moving his fingers up into the soft curls.

Starsky closed his eyes and leaned into the caress.

Hutch bent his head and pressed gentle kisses across his forehead, down onto his eyelids, along his nose and then, suddenly sliding his hand to the back of Starsky’s head, gripped a handful of hair and pulled his head back, clamping their mouths together.

A grunt of surprise escaped Starsky. His eyes flew open, then closed again as he received the hardest, nastiest kiss he could remember. All tongues, teeth and spit.

It was wet, messy and very, very arousing.

Starsky’s hands came up to hold Hutch at the waist, then slid down to cup his ass as the kiss deepened. His fingers kneaded and squeezed, working the muscles under the skin.

Hutch pushed against him, urging him on, and Starsky obliged, cupping his hands deep under his ass.

Gasping, Starsky bit his way out of the kiss, sharp teeth dragging his bottom lip as Hutch pulled away.

“Damn,” he whispered roughly, his mouth open and wet, his eyes glazed.

“Like that?”

“Uh-huh.” He nodded, slowly, his hands still resting on Hutch’s butt. He pulled him forward suddenly.

Starsky nuzzled into the gap in Hutch’s shirt, his nose burrowing against the smooth chest, moving back and forth. He rooted around under the edges of the shirt. He looked up.

“Take it off,” he growled, tilting his head at Hutch’s chest.

His words brought the flush on Hutch’s skin up to a full-blown wave of sexual desire that pounded in his groin and made his toes curl on the carpet.

Obediently, he reached for the buttons, his fingers trembling. He fussed at the tiny buttons, his eyes fixed on Starsky’s.

“God,” he whispered. “I can’t …”

Without taking his eyes from the other man’s, Starsky reached up and took hold of the shirt. He pulled hard in opposite directions. Buttons flew across the room – silk ripped.

Hutch opened his mouth to let Starsky know he’d just ruined a $50 shirt, but nothing seemed capable of squeezing past the lump in his throat.

Growling, Starsky stripped the shirt down his arms and threw it to the floor. As the shirt fluttered to the carpet, Starsky seemed to gather himself. He took a shaky breath and looked up, his face contrite.

“Hutch- Christ, I’m s-” he choked out.

Hutch’s mouth swallowed the apology before it could be formed. Starsky opened up and let him in.

Hutch held on tight to the other man’s face as he sucked his tongue hard enough to hurt.

He couldn’t get close enough, couldn’t get deep enough. He groaned and felt himself slide bonelessly sideways onto the bed, their mouths still welded together.

Starsky immediately wrapped both his legs around his waist, holding him in a grip that threatened to squeeze the breath from his lungs.

Hutch tore his mouth away. “Fuck!” he gasped, wriggling. He pushed at the hard thighs encasing him, unable to dislodge them. Starsky’s considerable erection jabbed his belly with an eroticism that bordered on overwhelming.

Starsky chuckled and eased up, snaking his arms around the other’s body. “Wassup, Baby Blue?” he breathed into the other man’s ear.

He grinned, slipping his tongue inside.

Hutch yelped. He brought his hand up. “Ew, fuck, Starsk!” he grimaced.

Starsky laughed at him and Hutch narrowed his eyes poking him in the ribs.

“Quit it. I hate that.”

Starsky flinched. “Ow!”

“No more tongues in ears?” Hutch warned, his hand poised.

Starsky widened his eyes in innocence. “Whaddya mean – this?”

He slowly leaned in and ran his tongue over Hutch’s lips before sliding slowly inside. He watched Hutch’s eyes flutter shut and grinned around the kiss.

Hutch opened up and gave him a poisonous look. “You play dirty.”

Grinning, Starsky kissed the end of his nose. “You have no idea,” he whispered. He ducked down and buried his face in the side of Hutch’s neck and licked.

Tightening his grip with both arms and legs, he clung to Hutch, sucking and licking, rubbing himself against the long body, as if trying to ease an ache in his groin.

Hutch groaned and arched his back, helpless against the wet attention and rhythmic rocking. His own pelvis tilted and thrust to meet Starsky’s.

He should have known his sybaritic friend would make love with the intensity with which he applied to the rest of his life.

“Christ,” he gasped, running his hands down his partner’s back, desperate to find skin. “Get this off,” he ordered, pulling at the shirt.

He slid his hands under the hem and pulled up. Starsky paused for a moment and wriggled, freeing his arms. He threw the shirt across the room and immediately went back to Hutch’s upper chest, this time biting softly.

“Oh, God…” Hutch breathed, the feel of Starsky working his way down his chest utterly overwhelming him. When that questing mouth reached a nipple and bit down, he yelped.

Starsky’s hand shot up and clamped over Hutch’s mouth. “You wanna wake the whole fuckin’ house?” His whole body shook with laughter, slowly pulling his hand away.

Hutch pulled his head away and glared. “You bit me!”

Starsky rubbed a thumb over the abused nub. “Oh, babe, I’m sorry,” he crooned, the wicked grin negating his tender words.

“Yeah, I bet.” Hutch put his hand between them and pushed at the hairy chest.

“Lie back,” he ordered.

Obediently, Starsky laid back.

Hutch shook his head and untangled Starsky’s legs from his waist. He pulled the other man’s arms out at right angles to his body and knelt between the splayed legs. He looked down and smiled at the effect. His very own dark imp.

Starsky glanced down at himself, opened out and vulnerable and swallowed. “You got somethin’ on your mind, babe?”

Hutch hooked his fingers under the elastic of the black briefs. “I might.”

 

Chapter 20

Hutch pulled down his hands down a touch, fascinated by the bulge under the material.

He slid the elastic down another inch, hearing the faint sound of breath being caught in the man’s throat. He bit his bottom lip as the elastic caught on the top of Starsky’s erection before freeing it. “That better?” he croaked.

“Oh, God, yeah,” Starsky breathed out.

Hutch hesitated, then pulled his hands free and sat back resting on his heels. “So.”

“So?” Starsky looked confused. “Whaddya mean – so?”

Hutch cleared his throat. “I mean, what d’you want we should do?”

Starsky looked incredulous. “I gotta spell it out?” he whispered. “Jesus, Hutch, Wasn’t my tongue in your mouth enough of a hint of what I want?” He wriggled his hips.

Hutch unconsciously licked his lips and smiled. “Maybe.”

“Maybe what?” Starsky lifted his head. “Look, babe — I’m lyin’ here half naked underneath you, and all I want is to get all the way naked underneath you.”

He reached up and stroked the middle of Hutch’s chest. “It’s just me and thee, babe. Ain’t nothin’ to be afraid of,” he said softly.

Hutch smiled, the unashamed love behind the words spreading through him. “Me and thee,” he repeated.

Starsky’s thumb moved to cover his nipple, sending sparks shooting down to Hutch’s crotch. “Like it’s always been.” He smiled. “There’s just more between us, now.”

Warmed by Starsky’s words, Hutch grabbed both sides of the briefs and began to shimmy them over the flared hips. “Lift up,” he ordered.

Starsky obeyed, and the little black things slipped down with delicious ease.

Hutch stared.

He’d seen Starsky’s penis quite often over the years and never thought twice about it.

A couple of times he’d even seen him thickened and heavy at half-mast as he stumbled sleepily to the bathroom in the morning, but this was the first time he’d seen the other man fully erect.

“Scared yet?” Starsky snickered.

Hutch glanced up. “Nah – disappointed,” he joked, dead-pan delighted that Starsky took that in the spirit it was intended.

The man laughed out loud. “Gee, thanks, partner.” He struggled to sit up, reaching for Hutch’s pants. “Let’s see the competition, then.” He unhooked the belt and pulled at the button.

“Hang on…” Hutch shuffled back and off the bed. He reached out and pulled the briefs all the way off Starsky’s legs in one swift move.

“Wow…” Starsky grinned. “You wicked devil, you.” He reached out his arms. “C’mere.”

Hutch recklessly threw the underwear over his shoulder. He stepped up to the edge of the bed and unsnapped his jeans. As he pushed the edges apart, Starsky reached for him.

“Uh-uh. My job,” he said, batting Hutch’s hands away. Taking both sides of the open jeans, He pulled Hutch close and buried his face in the middle of his stomach.

He hummed, the vibrations making Hutch laugh.

“Tickles.”

“Stop complaining,” Starsky muttered into his belly.

Slowly, he pushed the jeans down as his mouth mapped out the skin as it was uncovered.

Hutch hissed as a wet tongue traced across his belly from one hip bone to the other.

He reached down to still Starsky’s head.

“Don’t.”

The instruction was muffled but firm. Hutch smoothed through the curls and drew his hand away.

He watched as the other man slid his jeans and briefs down his legs in a slow, sensuous slide.

“Oh, sweet Jesus,” he whispered as his erection fell forward to brush against Starsky’s face, then gave a choked laugh at the wry look on Starsky’s face at the comment.

“Your name’s David,” he said, brushing his knuckles down the side of his face. “My David.”

Starsky kissed the knuckles and nodded. “Lie with me,” he said, leaning in to nuzzle low on Hutch’s belly.

Hutch turned wordlessly and sat on the bed, kicking off his jeans and underwear. He shuffled backwards to lie in the middle of the covers. He spread his arms the same way Starsky had presented himself.

Starsky grinned and shimmed over to lie beside him. Propped on his elbow, he looked down at Hutch. “You’re fuckin’ gorgeous, you know that?”

Hutch laughed nervously. “Get outta here.”

“I mean it.” Bending, Starsky kissed him on the mouth. “I think you’re beautiful.”

Hutch felt heat rise in his face and cursed his coloring. “Stop.” he winced.

Starsky chuckled. “Don’t take compliments well, do you, babe?”

“Not used to it,” he grumbled, unreasonably embarrassed, and hating himself for it. “Don’t think anyone’s said that to me since I got past 18 months old.”

Petting his fingers through fine hair, Starsky shook his head. “So you gettin’ a compliment’s as rare as rocking horse shit, huh?” he asked with a laugh. “Well, we’d better see what we can do about that, my pretty little schweetheart.”

Hutch tried to glare, but he couldn’t help laughing. “Fuck off.”

He batted the hand from his hair and Starsky batted back at him, a wicked glint in his eye sparking a minor wrestling match.

“This isn’t what I had in mind,” Hutch said eventually, his arms pinned above his head. He was breathing hard, Starsky triumphantly perched on his lap.

“Yeah?” Starsky leaned over with a grin, his knees spread either side of Hutch. “An’ just what did you have in mind, Mr. Hutchinson?”

Hutch grinned up. “Well, I kinda thought I’d be doing the seducing.”

“Yeah? Why’s that?”

Hutch tried to shrug. “I guess I didn’t really think there was much chance of you wanting to get naked with me.”

“Just shows what you know, huh?” He bent to place a kiss on the end of Hutch’s nose. As he leaned over, their cocks touched.

Hutch gave a hiss.

“Shit!”

Starsky pulled back. “God,” he whispered, looking down at their groins. He glanced up. “You feel that?”

Hutch nodded. “Do it again.”

Wriggling down, Starsky laid his body down, chests pressed together, groins meshed.

“Oh, fuck…” he groaned, arching up to press their cocks together.

Hutch gasped and raised his hips to match the movement. He could feel the entirety of Starsky’s body crushing his, felt the prickle of body hair, the heat of the other man’s groin.

“Oh, Starsk,” he breathed, burying his nose in the dark curls behind the man’s ear.

“Oh, God – do that again, Starsk!”

In reply, Starsky shoved his hands underneath his shoulders and pulled him close, wrapping his legs around Hutch’s thighs.

Hutch clung back, trying to get closer. He rolled over, taking Starsky with him, crushing the other man’s body to his.

His mouth roamed up the muscular shoulder to his neck. He nuzzled, open-mouthed.

And almost uncannily sensing what Hutch needed, Starsky bend his head down, his mouth open in anticipation. They met in a clash of teeth and tongues.

Groaning softly, Hutch allowed his partner to roam inside his mouth, reveling in the strokes on his palette, the way the other man suckled on his tongue.

The carnality and intensity of the kiss thrilled him to his soul.

He licked at the other’s lips whenever his tongue was released – biting and pulling on the bottom one until he heard Starsky groan.

Hutch could feel the swollen erection crushed along side his – their skin sweaty, giving slick passage. He thrust up, trying to bury himself in the other man’s belly.

The prickle of pubic hair on his glans was just this side of too sharp, and the sensation was slowly driving him insane. He hoped his hairless stomach wasn’t a disappointment.

“Fuck…” he muttered as his glans hit the ridge of Starsky’s amazing abdominal muscles.

A deep sensual grunt was all the reply he received as Starsky matched him, thrust for thrust, his legs now wrapped all the way around his waist.

They pounded at one another, grabbing at each other’s back, heedless of nails and bruises. A part of Hutch’s brain wondered how much evidence would be visible in the morning.

“So good…so good, baby… so good…” Starsky chanted into his mouth, his hips thrusting furiously. “Don’t stop… Christ, don’t stop…”

Hutch just held on harder and pushed back, absolutely no intention of stopping. Amazingly, he could feel the coils of orgasm unfurling in his belly.

“Oh, Jesus,” he grunted and jerked, chagrined not to last longer, but desperate to find relief.

With a cry, Starsky jammed his tongue deep into Hutch’s mouth and began to shudder, his hips snapping forward, manically.

Hutch felt the skin on his belly burn as the other man spilled out between their bodies.

The knowledge that his friend had lost control pushed Hutch over the edge.

He suckled madly on the tongue offered him and squeezed as hard as he could, pushing his cock into the scratchy hair over and over again.

His eyes screwed up and his breath hitched as he felt the surge from his balls.

There was a moment of exquisite stillness before his cock exploded.

 

Chapter 21

This time it wasn’t the smell of soap or the twitter of birds that woke Hutch. Nor was it the smell of coffee and toast. This morning’s alarm-call came in the shape of something hard and long digging into his butt.

Hutch pushed himself back against it, testing.

It pushed back, slightly, slipping down the crack of his ass. He smiled, his eyes still closed.

Well, this certainly beat coffee.

Starsky lay behind him, one arm draped over his stomach. His breath huffed into his hair at the back of his neck.

Was he still asleep?

Hutch couldn’t tell. Part of him certainly wasn’t, anyway. He could feel the pulse beating in his cock where it was pressed into his ass.

The feeling of warmth both inside and out was intoxicating — Hutch knew he could become addicted to this particular drug easier than anything delivered in a syringe.

And that was a little scary.

There was no way in hell he’d ever be able to forget the love they’d made, but he didn’t know how they were going to deal with this shift in their relationship when it came down to real life.

There was a large, terrified part of him that was convinced Starsky would want to just brush off what happened and carry on like before.

Hutch knew there was no way he could deal with that.

His breath gave a panicked hitch in his chest.

He jumped as a kiss was dropped on his shoulder.”G’mornin’,” said a rusty voice from behind.

“Morning.”

“W’s nice,” Starsky whispered into the back of his neck.

“Hhhmmm.” Hutch squeezed his hand.

He cracked an eye to look at his watch on the bedside cabinet. Quarter to ten. He blinked hard and looked again.

Quarter to ten.

Dammit.

He turned nudged his elbow. “It’s late.” He rubbed his face with his free hand.

“We must have slept in.”

Starsky shifted slightly. “Wa’time issit?”

“Nearly ten.”

“God! Good job we don’t have to get to work.”

Hutch frowned at the thought of work. They really needed to talk about this, he brooded. Needed to sort out what they were going to do.

He felt Starsky move to prop himself up on an elbow. “Whatcha thinkin’?” he asked, reaching round to brush the hair from Hutch’s forehead.

Hutch swallowed all the fears, determined he wasn’t going to create a scene.

“Hutch?” Starsky peered over his shoulder. “You okay?”

He turned slightly, looking at the other man out of the corner of his eye. “I’m fine, Starsky,” he said, cringing inside at the lie. He wondered if Starsky was fooled by it.

Starsky didn’t say anything — just stared. Hutch let his eyes slide away and concentrated on keeping his breathing even.

Finally, Starsky pulled himself to a sitting position and propped his arms on his knees.

“Don’t do this,” he said quietly. “Talk to me.”

Hutch shut his eyes, trying not to sigh. In the split second it had taken him to decide he couldn’t handle Starsky backing away from him, also decided he hadn’t the strength to deal with it, now.

He pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Starsk, I’m fine, okay?”

“Talk to me.”

“We’re late, we should get going.”

Neither of them moved.

Hutch could practically feel the anger building inside the man next to him.

“So we can make love, but we can’t talk about it. Is that it?”

“No.”

The word came out very quietly, almost like it was ashamed of itself.

“Then what? Tell me, Hutch, cuz I have no fuckin’ idea what’s goin’ on here.”

Hutch opened his mouth, but couldn’t think of anything sensible — or anything that didn’t sound pathetic, so he closed it again.

Starsky sighed. “You know what I think?” He paused, long enough for his partner to look at him again. “I think this sucks.”

He moved to the other side of the bed.

Hutch watched as he pulled himself out of bed, his back stiff – face unreadable. The other man glanced over his shoulder.

“I’m sorry if I make you uncomfortable,” he said, sounding like a stranger.

The better part of Hutch’s mind was screaming at him that if he let Starsky turn away from him now, then there was no way either of them would ever make it back.

“David-” he started to say.

The other man kept his back to him as he grabbed clean shorts, pulling them on with savage movements.

“The name’s Starsky,” he snapped.

Hutch winced.

He slid out of bed, ignoring the early-morning crack of both knees.

“I know.”

He walked over, his hand hovering over the sculptured back for a moment. He laid it to rest on the warm skin. “David – my David”

Starsky stood motionless.

Swallowing his stupidity, Hutch ran his hand down the broad back, and slid it round to Starsky’s belly, moving to hug him from behind.

“You don’t make me feel uncomfortable,” he whispered on the skin between Starsky’s shoulder blades.

The muscles of his belly under his hand were rigid. Hutch smoothed his palm over the magnificent abs. “I just… I’m just not used to this.”

He rested his forehead between Starsky’s shoulder blades and sighed at himself.

“What? Fucking your partner?”

Hutch supposed he deserved that.

Closing his eyes and breathing in the smell of warm skin, Hutch pulled him closer.

“No. I meant not used to feeling like someone’s got my guts in a vice. Like my world has just turned inside-out…” He took a deep breath.

“Feeling like if let you walk away from me right now, I might just cry myself to death.”

Starsky turned, slowly, taking his hand.

Another hand slid under his chin, forcing Hutch’s head up. He had never thought of himself as a coward, but he really didn’t want to look at those piercing eyes right now.

“Hey-“

Hutch’s eyes stayed shut.

Starsky kissed his nose. “Hey – look at me.”

Gritting his teeth, Hutch opened his eyes, straight into flashing sapphire. “What?”

“Can I tell you a secret?”

Hutch forced himself to nod.

Starsky gently kissed his mouth. “You just described exactly how I feel.”

Breath caught in Hutch’s throat. “Yeah?”

“Uh-huh.” He kissed him again. “You’ve knocked me on my ass, babe.” He grinned. “Sorry if you thought I was a tough, macho kinda guy, but I feel like I’ve been hit by a Mack truck.”

“Yeah?”

“God, yeah — Hell, I just made love with the man I’m gonna spend the rest of my life with, how’d you think I feel?”

Hutch felt his eyes widen. “What?”

Starsky kissed him again. “You’re mine. No-one else gets to do this, okay?”

Hutch found himself being kissed hard. His mind thrashed about inside his head, struggling with what Starsky offered — no, ordered.

It was a shock, as much as it was welcome.

As the other man kissed his way out of the embrace, Hutch felt the death-throes of his pride lurch in his mind. He pulled back and regarded the face in front of him.

“Okay,” he said. “Deal.”

Starsky tilted his head. “Mine?”

Hutch smiled. “Always, David.”

“Good.” Starsky leaned their foreheads together and closed his eyes.

“You okay?”

Starsky nodded. “Yeah. I’m good, honest.”

“But?”

Heaving a sigh, Starsky looked at him. “You an’ me as good as married is great, Blintz, honest. But all I can think of – is what am I gonna tell Ma?”

Hutch laughed, exhaling in a gust of relief, wrapping his arms around the other man.

They stood for a while, tightly wrapped around one another, until Hutch untangled himself and pushed away. He kissed the mouth in front of him.

“We need to talk.”

“I know.”

“Just not now, okay?”

Starsky nodded. “Sure.” He brought his hand up to cup Hutch’s face. “Soon, yeah?”

Hutch smiled and kissed the palm. “At home.”

Starsky nodded. “At home.” He grabbed a shirt from the dresser and threw it over one shoulder and started towards the door. “I’m gonna hit the shower.”

Hutch watched the lithe strut with a rush of affection that all but buried the last traces of any doubt. He pulled in a huge, grateful breath.

“David?”

The dark man turned as he reached for the door handle, his eyebrow rising. “Mmmm?”

Hutch smiled. “Nice ass.”

He was rewarded by a smile that demolished any lingering doubt.

 

Chapter 22

They both managed to get showered, shaved and dressed before Tor put in an appearance. She wandered into the kitchen still in her sleep shirt.

“Hi,” Hutch said. “You hungry?”

The girl slipped into a chair with a scowl. “No.”

Hutch raised an eyebrow at Starsky. He put down his mug and pushed the plate of toast across the table.

“Hey. You gotta eat. Busy day ahead.”

Tor graced him with his scowl.

“I’m not hungry, okay?”

“It might be a while before you get lunch, so better eat up.”

She sighed. “Hello? Didn’t you hear what I said? Here’s me thinkin’ jerkin’ off made you go blind, not deaf.”

Starsky stared over the plate at her. “That was offensive and uncalled for,” he said.

“Get over it.”

Pushing her chair back, she snatched up her glass of milk and turned away.

“Where are you going?” Hutch called.

“Out.” The kitchen door banged shut.

Hutch and Starsky exchanged raised eyebrows. What the hell?

“I’ll go see what’s up.” Hutch pushed his chair back and rose.

Starsky went back to his coffee and grinned. “If you’re not back in fifteen minutes, I’ll come help you bury the body.”

Hutch glared good-naturedly. “That’s mature.”

He winked. “Go get her, tiger.”

He found Tor sitting out back, nose in her milk, legs kicking the wooden steps.

He moved and sat beside the child. They sipped their respective drinks, in silence.

After five minutes or so, Hutch glanced over. The milk and the frown were both nearly gone.

He rested his mug in his lap. “That wasn’t a very nice thing to say.”

Tor ran her tongue around the rim of the glass. “I know,” she said at last, sighing.

Hutch waited. He had a feeling there was more to come.

“I didn’t mean it.”

“Yes, you did.”

Tor looked up, frowning. She opened her mouth, then closed it. “Yeah,” she sighed. “I did.”

They both looked out into the distance. It was a lovely view. Huge pines surrounded the cabin, bathing the grass in dappled shadow, the blue sky peeping through at the tops.

Gorgeous. So much more restful than the city.

Hutch looked at the girl, a stab of insight illuminating her snappy manner. Somehow, Hutch didn’t think Tor was looking at the trees.

“We have to take you back to your mom, you know.”

“Yeah.”

“Things will be different.”

“Will they?”

“You and your mom will be re-located somewhere away from the city. Away from danger.” He spread his hands. “She’ll get financial support. A nice house. You’ll go to a nice new school. Make loads of new friends.”

Hutch knew he was painting a rosy picture, it would never be easy for any teenager moving into a new area. But with any luck, it would be someplace safe, somewhere that the neighbors didn’t use pets for target practice.

“Maybe you could talk your mom into letting you have a dog.”

Tor gave a thin smile. “Yeah, maybe.”

They sat quietly.

This was the happy ending that was supposed to happen. Tor’s mom did the right thing – she and her daughter would be looked after by the Witness Protection Program, but Tor looked anything but happy with the prospect of a new life.

Tor sighed and stood up. “I’m gonna go pack my stuff,” she said. She grinned ruefully. “Might even take a shower.”

Hutch smiled. “You go for it, Tor.”

The grin faded. “We don’t have to pretend, any more.” She shrugged. “My name’s

Frankie.”

Hutch nodded, standing. “Sure… Frankie.”

The girl nodded back and turned to the kitchen. Pausing, she looked back.

“He gonna be mad with me?” she asked.

Hutch shook his head and smiled. “No.”

He followed as Frankie nodded and went inside.

“Hey.”

Starsky looked up.

“Sorry about…” She blushed and flapped her hand. “The sex-thing, y’know.”

He shrugged. “S’okay.”

She placed her glass on the table. “I’m gonna go shower and pack. Call me when we gotta go, ‘kay?”

“Sure.” Starsky watched her go. He started to gather up the breakfast things. “So what was all that about?”

“I get the impression she’s not keen on starting a new life. Poor kid. Hell of a thing to have to deal with.”

Starsky nodded, handing over the cutlery. “I know.”

Hutch looked at him. “Yeah – I know you do, buddy.” He walked over and squeezed his shoulder. “Let me give you a hand with that.”

They washed and tidied up, both lost in thought.

***

Placing the last of his clothes in his bag, Hutch felt a hand on his back. He turned, smiling. “Yeah?”

Starsky grinned, sliding both hands around his waist. “Nothin’.”

Hutch reached up and linked his hands behind the curly head. “Doesn’t feel like ‘nothing’,” he smiled, pressing himself against the other man.

“Hhhhmmmm.” Starsky bent and put his mouth over the other’s, touching his lips with his tongue. They kissed, slow and gentle, both content to hold and be held, sharing the quiet moment. The shape digging into Hutch’s groin felt even less like ‘nothing’ when they parted.

“What’s this?” he teased, bumping it gently with his own erection.

“That’s what you do to me,” Starsky whispered in his ear, making him shiver.

“God, me too,” Hutch breathed back, inhaling the familiar scent of the warm neck. “But we don’t have time, right now.”

“Pity.” The tip of a wet tongue slithered along Hutch’s ear.

Hutch chuckled, pulling away. “Didn’t I tell you about that?”

“Maybe,” Starsky grinned, doing it again.

Hutch pushed against his chest. “I can see you’re gonna give me trouble.”

“As often as possible,” Starsky leered, leaning in.

Hutch laughed. “Not now, Romeo. Go shout T… Frankie. We should be loading the car.”

“Er… I think you should go get her, all things considered.” He glanced down at the bulge accentuated inside his tight pants.

Hutch looked, and laughed. “I see what you mean. Maybe you should go get the bags, instead.” He adjusted his own, looser pants and shook his head.

“Serves you right, wearing such tight pants. Bad Starsky.”

He grinned and brushed his hand over the bulge.

Starsky brushed his hand away and adjusted himself with a wince. “Sadist.”

“Oh, boy,” Hutch said with a grin, reaching to stroke the bulge again, as the other man groaned and sagged against the wall. “You have no idea.”

***

In the two hours it took to drive to the airfield, Hutch didn’t think Frankie said more than a dozen words. And five of those had been ‘yes please’ to a burger and fries and ‘no thank you’ at the last rest room stop.

Hutch really didn’t want to part company with the child on a sour note, but wasn’t sure what he could do or say to make things any better for her.

He glanced over to Starsky, a slight smile on his face, wondering if he was ever going to be able to look at his partner with anything like a neutral expression.

“Nearly there, T… Frankie,” he said. “Bet you can’t wait to see your mom again, huh?”

“Yeah,” came the unenthusiastic reply.

Hutch could see the girl in the vanity mirror, just staring out of the window, her chin on her hand, looking as miserable as sin.

Starsky indicated left and swung the car through huge rusty gates.

There were two cars by the old hanger. He pulled up fifty yards away and killed the engine, reaching for his gun. Hutch did the same.

“What’re you gettin’ those out for?” Frankie poked her head between the front seats.

“Precautionary,” Hutch said, checking his clip.

“But the trial’s over. Finished with.”

“All the same,” Starsky glanced back. “We have to check everything’s okay.”

He looked at Hutch. “I’ll go. You stay here.”

Nodding, Hutch watched him climb out of the car and walk slowly towards the other cars, his gun held loosely at his side. He slipped into the driver’s seat, turning the engine over, ready, just in case.

His heart began to hammer. God… let it be okay.

Behind, Frankie peered through the windscreen. “What happens now?”

“We wait. Starsky’s making sure these people are the ones we’re expecting and not…” he let the sentence drift away.

“Oh.”

It was the longest five minutes of the week.

Starsky spoke with two men, then to Hutch’s complete and utter relief, held up his hand and indicated that it was okay.

He let his breath out in a long hiss. Thank you, God.

“It okay, then?” Frankie asked as he turned the engine back off.

Hutch smiled, his stomach settling. “Yes. Everything’s fine. I expect your mom will be here any minute.”

Nodding the girl stared through the screen, her lip caught between her teeth.

“Come on, lets get your stuff ready.” Hutch popped the trunk, climbed out and opened the back door. “You coming?”

There was a crazy moment when Hutch imagined the girl was going to say ‘no’, but with a sigh, she pulled herself out of the car.

Hutch fished Frankie’s backpack out from under the others and held it out to be taken, frowning at the look on the girl’s face.

“Hey-” Putting the bag down, he placed a hand to the girl’s forehead. “Do you feel okay? You look pale.”

All the color had drained from her face.

Frankie stared up at him. “I won’t ever see you again, will I?” she whispered, her eyes wide.

Hutch swallowed. No point in lying. “No, Frankie, you won’t. It wouldn’t be safe for you.” He laid a hand on her shoulder and squeezed. “But everything will be okay.

You’ll make lots of friends…”

“I don’t want to go.”

Hutch sighed. “I know.”

“I really enjoyed this – you know. Despite all the shit.”

Hutch smiled. “I’m glad.”

They stood quietly, looking at each other. Then remembering how easy Starsky had been with the teenager, he made a decision.

“Can I get a hug, then?” he asked, holding his hands out.

Easier than he would have dreamed, Frankie was in his arms, hugging fiercely.

“I won’t forget you,” she said.

“I should think not,” Hutch laughed. “Every time someone nags you about your language we’ll spring to mind.”

As they stood, a large car swept into the yard, kicking up a shower of pebbles.

Hutch knew a government vehicle when he saw one.

“That looks like it could be your mom.” He tilted the small chin upwards. “Come on. Let’s go show her how fabulous you look in that dress.”

“She’s gonna shi…” Frankie grinned. “Freak.”

Hutch laughed. “Probably.”

The car doors opened and plain clothed cops poured out, all dressed in the suit and tie uniform, looking clean, smart and very intimidating. Frankie hesitated.

“It’s okay,” Hutch urged.

“Where’s…?” And then she was off running towards a woman that got out of the back seat.

“Mom!”

Hutch watched the two throw themselves at one another, laughing, talking at once.

That was a sight. He swallowed. Must be getting sentimental in his old age.

Starsky walked over. “Happy families,” he said.

“I hope so,” he replied, watching as the DEA cops fussed over the two, urging them towards the hanger doors and a light aircraft.

They watched the crowd disappear into the hanger, a small pang of regret snagging deep inside Hutch.

“Funny, but I’m gonna miss her,” Starsky said thoughtfully as they all moved out of view.

“Yeah, me too.” Hutch sighed and turned back to the car.

“Do I still get to drive?” Starsky grinned, tossing the keys up in the air.

“Nope,” he replied, snatching them in mid-air.

“Hey!”

A yell from the hanger turned them round. Starsky frowned. “What the hell?”

A cluster of DEA guys appeared in the doorway of the hanger, running in the wake of Frankie’s legs pounding across the tarmac.

Three highly trained agents failed to catch one young girl across a distance of about two hundred yards. She barreled towards them, boots kicking up dust.

“Hey!” she yelled. “Wait up!”

“Frankie!” Hutch said, catching hold of her as she tried to stop. “You have to go, now, sweetheart.”

“I know,” she gasped. “But I didn’t get to say goodbye.” Her eyes glanced over to Starsky.

Hutch held up his hand to the DEA’s. “It’s okay, guys. Just hang on a second.”

Frankie untangled herself from Hutch and looked up at Starsky. “Hey, I just wanted to say… um-“

She was already red-faced from the dash, but Hutch would bet the next two month’s wages that she was blushing, too.

Rubbing the back of her already messed-up hair, she pulled a face. “I just…Y’know?”

Starsky grinned. “S’okay, Trouble. I know. Gonna miss you, too.” He winked.

A grin split her face and she winked back. “See ya around, Monkey Butt.”

“Not if I see you first.”

She turned as if to go – hesitated, then stepped forward to throw her arms around Starsky’s waist.

“You’re pretty okay — for a dumb cop,” she muttered into his chest.

Starsky laughed. “Well, I guess you’re pretty okay, too — for a girl.” He hugged her hard, lifting her clear off the ground.

“Okay. Get gone.” Starsky put her back on her feet and messed up her hair affectionately. “And try to be good every once in a while, huh?”

Frankie batted his hand away, smiling. “Bite me.”

“Nah, might catch somethin’ nasty.”

“We have to go, now,” the DEA man said, reaching for Frankie’s hand.

“Yeah, yeah…” Frankie rolled her eyes. “Hold your….”

Starsky held up his finger. “Ah-ah. Mind your language, young lady.”

Snatching at his finger hard enough to pull him off balance, Frankie reached up and grabbed a handful of Starsky’s curls. Pulling him down, she planted a kiss on his mouth.

Hutch laughed at her audacity and the furious blush that flooded his partner’s face.

“Later, Monkey Breath!” she grinned.

And then she was off, running back to the hanger, yelling at the DEA guys to hurry up.

“That’s Monkey BUTT to you!” Starsky yelled after her.

Hutch looked at his partner’s still-pink face and stepped nearer. “You’re blushing,” he said with malicious glee.

“Am not,” Starsky frowned, running a hand over his mouth.

Hutch smiled and allowed him the lie. He was busted and he knew it.

They watched the entourage disappear into the plane, the whine of the engines signalling the start of Frankie’s new life.

As they stood there, Hutch could feel the warmth of Starsky’s arm, where it barely brushed against his. He wanted to take hold of his partner’s hand, but the constraints of the job and real life kept his hands at his sides.

Not here.

He couldn’t hold this man’s hand in front of anyone else: society’s rules said so. And for the moment he would obey them.

But there would come a time, sooner rather than later, he hoped, when he could turn his back on stupid rules and walk down any street, proudly holding this man’s hand.

He smiled to himself. That’d be a good day.

“Whatcha thinkin’?” Starsky asked, glancing over.

Hutch grinned. “Oh- just about us walking down the Champs Elysee holding hands some day.”

“Yeah? You’d wanna do that?” Starsky looked at him, smiling at those sparkling blue eyes.

Hutch smiled back. “I would *love* to do that, Starsk.”

Starsky glanced down at their hands and briefly touched his finger to the back of the other’s hand. “Y’know — I think I’d like that too, buddy.”

“So that’s a date?”

Starsky nodded solemnly. “I promise.”

fin.