Just Drive

349

Hutch drives. Starsky thinks.

 

Answer to a 20 minute fic challenge using the words: lemon, cotton.

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“Drive,” Starsky ordered Hutch as he got in the car.

Hutch looked at him, frowned. “You sure? PT’s usually rough on you.”

“I said drive.” Starsky ground the words out. “And if you’re not gonna do it, I’ll get a goddamn cab to take me somewhere.”

Hutch said nothing but pulled away from the center.

Starsky watched him through the protective lenses of his sunglasses—Hutch wouldn’t be able to see the pain, the sheer agony today’s session had been. He just wanted to fucking forget he was not the man he used to be.

Hutch’s hands were clenched on the steering wheel—his grip so tight his knuckles were white. And Starsky could see the tic in his jaw—something new that had popped up since he’d been released from the hospital to finish recovering at home.

Recover, yeah right. He moved his gaze from Hutch to the road—traffic snarled on a Friday afternoon. But Hutch said nothing as he made his way onto the freeway.

Starsky practiced the meditative breathing one of the therapists had been teaching him, although it didn’t quell the nightmares, didn’t remove the pain. About the only thing it was good for was making the anger slightly less than it would be without it.

The traffic thinned as they got away from the city—Starsky lost track of where they were.

“Hutch.”

“Yeah.” Hutch didn’t look at him.

“I…you know.”

“I know.” Hutch relaxed his grip and reached over to pat Starsky’s leg. “You want me to turn for home?”

Starsky covered Hutch’s hand with his. “I can’t. Not yet.”

“Okay.” Hutch gave a light pat and kept driving.

Starsky closed his eyes, let the late afternoon sun soak into his skin, let himself absorb the hum of tires on the road—a song he’d always loved. He was acutely aware of Hutch—his body heat, the way he breathed, the quiet noise when he swallowed, and the smell—the fresh cotton of his t-shirt and jeans warmed by the sun mixed with what he thought was Hutch’s essence—some sort of lemon-y mint-y odor. He took a cautious deep breath.

“You okay, babe?” Hutch asked.

“Getting there.” Starsky opened his eyes and smiled as Hutch pulled off the highway.

There was a park nearby—a beach where they could walk and talk or just sit and watch the waves.

Hutch managed to find a parking spot and Starsky looked out at the waves, let himself just feel.

Hutch cleared his throat and Starsky looked at him, breathed in again—sun-warmed cotton, lemon, mint.

Hutch raised his eyebrows. “Wanna get out and walk?”

Starsky nodded. “Yeah. If we go slow, I can manage.”

“We’ll take as long as you need,” Hutch said. He slid his hand along Starsky’s neck, let his thumb trail along Starsky’s jaw.

Starsky nodded and took hold of Hutch’s hand, planted a kiss in the palm. “I love ya, ya know.”

Hutch smiled. “I know.”