What’s Been Going On

A different take on ‘Starsky v. Hutch.’ Hutch decides to try and figure out why he did it by writing the important parts down.

Still don’t own the originals, still arguing over my muses. Written for the au100 challenge on LiveJournal.

The first thing I have to say is, I never meant to hurt him. Not Starsky. Not like that.

We’d been having trouble for weeks – months, if I’m honest. We still worked together well enough, but on a personal level? I don’t even know when we started drifting apart, and I’m pretty sure he doesn’t, either, because by the time we really noticed it was too late. We both tried to reach out to each other, but sooner or later we’d push each other away again. So we found other ways to interact; challenging each other. If I hadn’t caught botulism from that can of soup, we’d probably have swapped running together for a weekly game of Cat-and-Mouse.

That sounds pathetic. But it’s true.

Our favourite challenge was dates, though. Every pretty woman we saw – well, all the single ones – we tried to win from each other, flirting and –

Now that I look back, I’m not so surprised by that reporter’s take on us. It’s embarrassing, remembering how hard we tried to score points off each other.

And into this situation came a slightly less than six foot tall piece of trouble.

Dobey ordered us to work with a third officer, you see. Short blond curly hair, baby-blue eyes, innocent expression… Officer Kieran set both of us going. He knew it, too. And while none of us could flirt openly at that first meeting (well, Starsky could – and did – but Starsky flirts with everyone anyway) he made it clear he was interested in us, too. Or should that be us two?

I think Starsky had sex with him first. There probably wasn’t a great deal of sleeping going on. I know there wasn’t when I had my turn, which happened the very next night.

You certainly couldn’t accuse Kieran of being slow to take advantage of his opportunities. Or lack of expertise, to be fair. If he went into the same line of work as Gillian, he could probably charge just as highly.

Is there something about me that says, ‘sucker for high-class whores’?

I was feeling pretty good the next morning. Even running into Starsky so early didn’t set off any warnings. I started baiting him about Kieran, waiting for an opening to start boasting about last night, and he said one word that blew my good mood to smithereens.

Love.

As in, “Hutch, I think I love him.”

I still haven’t worked out all of how that made me feel. Shock. Guilt. Pain. Jealousy. Hurt. Anger. Fear. Loss. Despair.

Denial.

The denial was the only thing keeping me from going crazy with my reaction to his words. I can’t remember any of our conversation after he said that, so shock was probably a major factor in my reaction as well.

I went to ask Kieran about his relationship with Starsky. Not immediately; I had some half-formed notion of not causing Starsky any more pain.

I never meant to hurt him.

But I did.

Half-an-hour after I ask Kieran about Starsky and I’m lying in bed next to him, wondering what the hell I think I’m doing. When Starsky finds out how I betrayed him… and I go limp. Again.

By this point, Kieran is pretty frustrated with me, and I can’t blame him. “Scared I’ll think Starsky’s better?” he snaps.

I have no idea what to say. “Tell me about him.”

Kieran gives me a look, then smiles. It’s sensual, but there’s a calculated air to it that makes me uncomfortable. For a moment he reminds me of Vanessa – which is ridiculous. What part of a blond-haired, blue-eyed man could remind me of my brown-haired, grey-eyed ex-wife?

Whatever it is, it doesn’t help my problem.

“Do you want me to kiss and tell?” he asks, pretending to be shocked. But I’m a lot more shocked, because I suddenly realise that that’s precisely what I want – I want to hear about all of the things I’ll never be allowed to know for myself, like his taste when he thrusts his tongue in your mouth, and the feel of him strong and thick in your hands, or between your legs, or – and the sounds he makes. Does he shout when he comes? I want to know all of it.

And because of that stupid decision – friendship not sex – I never will.

“Yes.”

It hurt to hear it, but I had to. Kieran was only too willing to oblige, and very good at description. He got me so hot I was jerking off just listening to him describe Starsky in bed.

Kieran must be pretty good at reading people, because he didn’t try to touch me for the rest of the night. He enjoyed watching me.

Next day the shit hit the fan. Starsky turned up at Kieran’s before I even finished dressing – no way for me to hide what I’d gone there for.

It’s the first time he’s ever really hit me. I’d like to say the only time, but after everything I’ve done recently I think there’s going to be a second, sooner or later. And probably a third.

I’ve been writing this out to help me take a clear look at what’s been happening between us. I’ve done.

Now that I know, I just have to decide what to do about it.

Starsky looked at the first line again. ‘I never meant to hurt him.’ His gaze wandered down the pages, stopping on random phrases: ‘we started drifting apart’… ‘other ways to interact’… ‘pathetic. But it’s true’… It’s embarrassing, remembering’… ‘six foot tall piece of trouble’… ‘Love.’… ‘not causing Starsky any more pain’… ‘I go limp. Again’… ‘reminds me of Vanessa’… ‘a lot more shocked’… ‘I’ll never be allowed to know’… ‘stupid decision’… ‘very good at description’… ‘the only time’… ‘Now that I know, I just have to decide what to do about it.’

“You and me both, babe,” Starsky murmured. When he had arrived at Venice Place, his only intention had been yelling at Hutch until he felt a little better and then getting drunk with him. Finding his partner asleep on the sofa, still clutching his pen and with the pages spread over the table before him, had roused his curiosity. And after he read the first sentence, there was no chance of his ignoring the rest of this bizarre explanation/confession.

So. The facts Starsky needed to adjust to were: one, both of them were to blame for their recent problems; two, Hutch hadn’t betrayed him with Kieran (intentionally, anyway); three, Hutch wanted him. Sexually. And four, he hadn’t been bothered by Kieran’s apparent betrayal, but by Hutch’s, even though he’d claimed to be in love with Kieran.

He thought back to that morning. Finding Hutch coming out of Kieran’s bedroom had been a shock, especially since Kieran had asked him that evening if he would come over for breakfast. Looking at the handwritten notes before him, Starsky had to wonder whether Hutch had already been in Kieran’s house when he made the offer. Either the man had forgotten making those arrangements when he went to bed with Hutch, or he’d made them after Hutch arrived. Starsky wasn’t sure which would be worse.

Kieran had made it very clear that he didn’t think Starsky had any right to say whether or not he could sleep with anyone. That thought dragged his eyes back to the line after the first word Hutch had crossed out, seeing again the neat line through it – unlike later on, where the pen had almost gone through the paper as he tried to destroy his comment about Kieran watching him.

Starsky looked over at Hutch, and shook his head. “Damn, buddy, we’ve really been messing ourselves up, huh?” He wondered where Hutch got the idea that he had to choose between friendship and sex, but it wasn’t important. He’d just have to prove him wrong, the sooner the better.

He jumped as Hutch began to snore, and looked at his position – head tilted back, legs curled awkwardly, slumping low on the sofa. “If you stay in that position all night, your back is gonna kill you in the morning.”

When Hutch didn’t respond, he took him by the arm and shook him gently.

“Mmm?” One of Hutch’s eyes slitted open.

“Bedtime,” Starsky told him with a gentle smile. Hutch seemed to consider for a moment, then reached for Starsky’s help in getting up. On his feet, he swayed slightly, then steadied. His eyes were still mostly closed.

“C’mon,” Starsky whispered, guiding Hutch into his bedroom. Hutch dropped his head onto Starsky’s shoulder, reaching to lazily undo his shirt with one hand.

“Shouldn’t you be removing your own clothes, babe?” Starsky asked.

“You do’m,” Hutch slurred, obviously half-asleep. He finished with Starsky’s shirt as they reached the bed, and unsnapped Starsky’s jeans as though it was part of their nightly routine.

Starsky undressed both of them, slightly hampered by Hutch’s refusal to let go of him.

“Hu-utch…”

“Not lett’n you vanish ‘gain.”

Starsky slipped into bed beside Hutch without further protest, pleased when Hutch curled around him. “Sleep well, babe. First thing we’re gonna do tomorrow is get rid of that stupid no-sex rule. Then breakfast, and after that…” he yawned, “we decide what to do about Kieran.”

They spent the rest of the night in each other’s arms, fast asleep.