Prickly Paradise

80

Paradise “sticks” it to Starsky while he and Hutch are on vacation.

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“Ah, this is the life,” Starsky smiled as he leaned back in the squat, multicolored beach chair. He dug his toes into the warm sand.

Hutch sighed. “Yeah, this vacation has been a long time coming, partner.” He adjusted the chair back to lay flat in the sun.

The air was filled with the sound of waves crashing to the shoreline, the smell of lotion-slicked bodies baking in the sun, and the sound of tropical music filtering down the beach from the Tiki bar. Scantily clad women strolled past the duo, dazzling their eyes as much as the sparkling azure water that served as a backdrop.

Starsky reached down into the fine white sand next to his chair and scooped up a fistful. He watched it, dreamily, as it sifted through his loosened fingers. “Finally, a real vacation. One where I can relax, enjoy the sights,” he paused to pull down his sunglasses, ogling a tall brunette as she sauntered by, “and possibly be chased by somethin’ a little more appealing than a mosquito or a bear.”

“Do you really hate camping with me that much?” Hutch asked in a hurt voice.

Starsky couldn’t tell if he was kidding. Couldn’t see his eyes through his partner’s dark glasses. “Nah, Blondie, camping with you is fun. It’s just all that nature that gets on my nerves.”

The blond raised a corner of his mouth in a smirk. “I think I’m starting to burn. Let’s head up to the bar.”

“I’ll second that motion,” Starsky agreed with a grin. He rocked himself forward out of the chair. “Last man there pays!” he jibed, and ran through the hot sand.

Hutch rolled out of his chair and landed on all fours. Sand stuck to his lotion-saturated hands and legs. “Ugh!” By the time he had pushed himself up and brushed off, his curly haired friend was smiling at him from the edge of the bar.

“Loser!”

Hutch grimaced, sighed, then trudged over to the bar. He gave the bartender his room number and charged the drinks to their tab.

“Hey! That’s not fair!”

“What’s that, Gordo?”

“We’re sharin’ the room, therefore sharin’ the tab,” Starsky explained as if he were speaking to a child. “You lost, so you’re supposed to pay. Stop shirkin’ on the bet.”

Hutch tried to look suitably offended. “Starsk, I never, EVER, shirk on my bets. It just so happens that there are no pockets in my swim trunks and I don’t have any cash on me. At the moment. I’ll reimburse you later.”

“Yeah, sure,” Starsky grouched good-naturedly, taking a long pull on his Mai Tai. “So, whatta ya wanna do on our first day in paradise?” He turned his blue eyes toward his partner.

“Well, for starters,” Hutch said, turning his back toward the ocean, “I thought we might do some exploring.” He lifted his drink in the direction of the hotel.

Starsky’s teeth blazed a smile across his already tanned face. “Now you’re talkin’! I think I saw a club inside with lots of pretty…”

“No, no, no,” Hutch interrupted. He raised his glass a bit higher to indicate the area beyond the hotel. “I mean, explore the island. You know, get into the thick of it, see what it’s made of.”

Starsky’s shoulders slumped. “Hey, Hutch, you’re not plannin’ none of that ‘getting back to nature’ stuff on this vacation, are ya?”

Hutch took a deep breath before replying. “Y’know, dirtball, this is my vacation, too. We laid around on the beach all morning because you wanted to. Can’t we do something I want to do now?”

Starsky rubbed a hand over his face, succeeding in smearing unnoticed sand into his left eye. He blinked it shut as he said, “Yeah, okay. I guess so.”

“What are you winking at?” Hutch asked, turning to see if something or someone was behind him.

“Nothin’. Got sand in my eye.”

“Don’t rub it.” Hutch pulled his friend’s hand away from his face. “Let’s go get changed and you can wash your face.” He gulped the last of his drink, took his buddy’s elbow and steered him back toward the hotel. “It’ll be an adventure,” Hutch coaxed his sulking friend. “I promise.”

“A Hutchinson adventure,” Starsky grumbled under his breath. “Sounds like a pain in the ass to me.”

“You say something?” Hutch asked sternly.

“Just irritated.” He cupped a hand over his tearing eye to shield it from the sun’s glare. Hutch pulled up short. “Got sand in my eye, remember? Sheez.” Starsky pulled his arm out of his partner’s grip and plodded through the sand to the hotel’s rear entrance.

They had left the room air conditioning on full blast before the excursion to the beach, chilling their sun baked skin as they crossed the threshold.

“Shit, Hutch! It’s freezin’ in here! Why’d you set the thing so cold?”

“Me? You’re the one who kept fiddling with it before…”

“Ah, forget it.” Starsky cut him off with a wave and went into the bathroom to wash out his eye. Cool water and a few eye drops soothed most of the irritation. “I think I’ll take a quick shower before we go.”

“You had one before we went to the beach.”

“Yeah, well, now I’m all sandy and sticky.”

“You’re going to be hiking in the woods. You’ll just get sweaty and dirty anyhow.”

Starsky rolled his eyes. “Okay, fine. I’ll just put some clean clothes on over top of my dirty body, and we’ll go. All right?” he asked sarcastically.

Hutch pulled a pair of khaki pants and a matching shirt out of his suitcase and smiled. “Great.”

Starsky removed a pair of his favorite jeans and a Hawaiian-motif short sleeved shirt from his suitcase. He left the shirt unbuttoned half way, revealing a chest that was adorned with hair as curly as that on his head. He slipped his bare feet into his sneakers.

“Better wear socks,” Hutch warned, not missing a thing. “We’ll be doing a lot of walking. You might get blisters.”

Tired of arguing, Starsky sighed heavily and kicked off his shoes. Donning a pair of white cotton socks, he slipped his feet back into the Adidas. “Can we go now?” he asked grouchily as he headed for the door.

Hutch followed him out. They walked to the elevator at the end of the corridor and got inside, pushing the button for the lobby. It was a long, quiet trip down from the fourteenth floor.

Starsky kept his mouth clamped shut on the ride to the lobby. He always has to have everything his way, he thought. We always end up going where he wants to go, doing what he wants to do. This sucks.

Ping. The elevator doors opened and the two men spilled out into the softly lit lobby. Tropical plants surrounded them, and soft music filtered through the air conditioned atmosphere. The soft sounds of clinking glasses and hushed laughter drifted out from the club at the far end of the foyer.

“Just a sec,” Starsky mumbled, holding up a finger. He changed direction and headed toward the club, away from the front exit.

Hutch lifted his arms slightly then dropped them heavily to his side, huffing. Reluctantly, he followed his partner. “Starsk, where are you going?”

“I just want to take a quick peek inside the club. That way, I’ll have something to look forward to tonight.” He stopped in the club’s doorway to examine a posted announcement taped to the wall by the door. “Hutch, look!” He pointed to the sign.

“What?”

“This is so cool! Tonight, their havin’ a big fireworks display set to music. Says the back of the club opens onto a huge wooden deck and they’ll have lots of food and drinks.” He turned to smile at his partner. “And I’m sure lots of pretty women.” He waggled his eyebrows, and Hutch had to laugh.

“Okay, sounds like fun. What time’s it start?”

Starsky squinted his eyes to read the fine print in the lobby’s subdued lighting. “Uh, ten o’clock.”

The blond smiled. “Let’s see, it’s three o’clock now. We’ll have plenty of time to shower and change when we get back. Sounds like a plan.” He clapped his friend affectionately on the back, then steered him towards the front exit. “Maybe I’ll let you borrow one of my shirts for the occasion. Something like that,” he pointed at his friend’s loud frock, “would be competition for the fireworks.”

Clenching his teeth at the insult, Starsky decided not to respond.

The two men squinted fiercely when they exited into the harsh afternoon sun. Starsky’s eyes teared up and he raised a hand to rub at his irritated left eye.

Hutch grabbed his hand to stop him. “Don’t rub it!”

Starsky pulled his hand out of his friend’s grip a bit more harshly than he had intended. “Will ya leave me alone?” He pressed the heel of his palm to the eye, but didn’t rub it. Then he took the sunglasses out of his shirt pocket and snapped them open with a flick of his wrist. They soothed the harsh light and he was able to see again.

“Just trying to help,” Hutch muttered. He led the way to the parking lot where their rental car was waiting. The red, compact Chevrolet was sweltering inside when they opened the doors. Hutch squelched into the hot driver’s seat and cranked the engine while his partner flicked on the air conditioning controls. “Whew! It’s like an oven in here.”

Starsky slammed his door and rolled down the window. “Hurry up and get this crate movin’ so the wind’ll cool us off, will ya?”

“Hold your Hawaiian shirt on, buddy. I’m on it.” Hutch put the car in gear and pulled smoothly out onto the main drag. A cool ocean breeze whipped through the car’s open windows as they drove, and soon it was cool enough to crank the windows shut and let the air conditioner do its job.

As they drove, houses and trees replaced the shops and buildings. Ten minutes further, and there were hardly any houses at all. Five more minutes, and they were surrounded by tropical foliage on a dirt road.

“You got any idea where you’re goin’?” Starsky grumbled.

Hutch attempted a smile. “Thataway,” he indicated with a nod of his head. What’s wrong with you? he wondered about his sulking partner.

Starsky rested his right fist on his chin with his elbow propped against the door. His brows were pulled into a slight frown as he stared out the window through his dark glasses.

Hutch opened his mouth to ask what the matter was, then thought better of it. He shut his eyes for a second and shook his head. He’d leave it alone. For now.

The dirt road was becoming rutty and uneven, tossing the occupants of the rental car about as Hutch ventured further “off the beaten track.”

“Stop!” Starsky said, sitting up at attention. “What’s that sign say?”

Posted to a wooden pole on the right of the road was a sign warning tourists to turn back.

“Well, guess we’d better turn around,” Starsky said, his mood lightening perceptibly. “That sign says the area ahead is classified as ‘island wilderness’ and unmapped for hiking or tourist exploration. Guess that says it all.” He shrugged his shoulders and tried to look disappointed for his friend’s sake.

Hutch paused a moment, looked at the sign, then at his friend. He made his decision and put the car in drive. “Since when do we follow the rules?” He could see his partner’s exasperated response out of the corner of his eye, and smiled slightly. “C’mon, Starsk. Where’s your sense of adventure?”

“Back in the city, ridin’ around getting shot at by criminals,” he griped. “This is s’pposed to be a vacation. Y’know, relaxing, eating, drinking.” He turned in the seat to look pleadingly at his partner. “Relaxing,” he said again, “not hiking through the woods.”

It was Hutch’s turn to clench his teeth. This sucks. He always has to have everything his way. Well, not this time. “Look. We’ll go to the fireworks later like you wanted. But right now, this is what I want to do.” He pressed his lips tightly together to prevent more harsh words from escaping.

Starsky slumped back into his seat and put his fist back up to his chin, immediately punching himself as the car hit a rut in the road. He did that on purpose, he thought, rubbing at his bruised jaw.

The car ventured forward another ten minutes until the dirt road petered out to a dead end walled by trees. Hutch turned off the motor and the cool air from the air conditioner immediately began to dissipate into the heat.

Starsky turned a “what now?” look toward his partner, but he already knew the answer. He threw open his door and stepped out into the humid afternoon. The shade from the trees offered little relief from the heat, and he billowed his shirt with one hand as he waited for his body to adjust to the drastic change from air conditioning.

Hutch closed his door with a slam and avoided looking in the direction of his partner. Then he closed his eyes and drew in a deep breath. “Mmm. Smell that?”

“What?”

“Life. All different kinds of life, teaming in the green folds of Mother Nature.” A smile slowly turned up the corners of his mouth as he relaxed into the moment.

“Smells like decayin’ wood and bug poop t’me,” Starsky muttered, moving around to the front of the car.

Hutch suddenly smacked the roof of the car with his open palm, making Starsky jump. His eyes were ablaze with anger. “That’s it! What the hell is your problem?”

Taken aback by the rage in his friend’s eyes, Starsky just stood with his mouth hanging open for a minute. When he recovered, he said, “Look. Sorry, but this is your idea of fun, not mine.”

The two men glared at each other for a few seconds. Then Starsky took a deep breath and broke the tension. “Hutch, I’m sorry. It’s just hot, y’know? C’mon. You lead the way, and I promise I’ll stop complainin'”

Hutch’s features softened but residual anger still sparkled in his eyes. “Thank you,” he managed through clenched teeth. Then he turned and walked into the wilderness.

The trees were tall and leafy, offering a canopy of shade from the tropical sun and dropping the temperature at least five comforting degrees. The ground foliage was sparse and clumpy, allowing them to trek easily through the woods.

As they walked, Hutch breathed in the subtle fragrances of the rich soil and tree oils, and the heady perfumes of beautiful flowering bushes. Exotic birds called to each other in the high branches, and insects buzzed through the air. Everywhere he looked was velvety green punctuated by accents of vibrant reds, blues, and white with splashes of sun-yellow that filtered through the lofty trees.

Starsky kept his eyes glued to the back of his partner’s khaki shirt as he plodded along. Several times he stepped on fallen twigs and branches that twisted his ankles. Something kept buzzing at his head and he swatted at it furiously, succeeding only in intensifying the insects attentions on him. His nose started to itch from all the smelly flowers and he sneezed. Three times. Loudly. He moaned.

His revery broken, Hutch stopped and turned to look at his partner. He had to smile at what he saw. Obviously miserable, Starsky was sniffling, trying to pinch the bridge of his nose to keep from sneezing again while he continued batting at the offending insect. He huffed out a breath and put his hands on his hips. “You hanging in there?” he asked.

“Yeah.” Just barely.

Hutch sniggered and turned to resume his exploration.

“We’ve been walkin’ for hours,” Starsky mentioned. “How much farther you gonna go?”

Hutch stopped again and looked at his watch. “It’s only 5:40, Starsk.”

“Yeah, well, won’t it be gettin’ dark soon? We should make sure we’re not stuck out here after dark.” He looked nervously around, imagining how much more frightening the woods would be at night.

“It doesn’t get dark until about 8:30,” Hutch snapped. He noticed the worried look on his partner’s face and softened a bit. “Just a little further. Okay?”

Starsky looked down at his feet, considering for a moment. “Okay,” he said quietly. As he took his first step forward, a stinging pain on the nape of his neck made him scrunch up his shoulders. “Ow!” He slapped the back of his neck. His hand came away with the squashed remains of a shiny black insect that looked alarmingly like a spider. He made a disgusted face at the tiny, mangled, ebony corpse then wiped it on the leg of his jeans.

A black carapace with a shattered red hour glass design flaked off the material and dropped to the mossy ground.

Hutch shrugged his shoulders and turned away. “That’s nature, buddy. Gotta take the good with the bad.”

“Yeah, like friendships,” Starsky muttered under his breath.

As they walked further into the forest, dark, pockmarked stones began to appear scattered across the landscape. The deeper they ventured, the larger and more abundant the rocks became. Some of them were arranged in sloping mounds, and the mounds were getting bigger. The mounds became outcrops, reaching up above the men. They walked through a narrow space between two especially high walls of stone and passed into a different world.

“Wow,” Hutch breathed, taken aback at the beauty before him. “This makes it all worth it.” Within the embrace of the rocks was a clearing. Only about fifty feet wide, it was carpeted with thick, soft moss, some of it reaching up to cover the border of stones that ringed the open space. Directly across from them stood a pool of the clearest, cleanest water the men had ever seen. It was surrounded by uneven piles of stones, but to the far left was an open gentle slope of moss that cascaded into the pond.

Hutch moved forward toward the pond with his mouth slightly agape in astonishment of the beauty that surrounded him. He stooped at the edge of the pool and pushed his fingers into the clear fluid. “Hey, it’s warm!” he exclaimed, pushing his hand then wrist into the water. “Hot, actually.” He stood and shook droplets from his hand. “I thought this rock looked volcanic,” he mused, talking aloud to himself. “This must be a volcanic hot spring! Can you believe it?” He spun around to face his partner with the spark of discovery lighting up his eyes.

Starsky was leaning against the rock wall at the opening of the clearing. “T’rrific,” he said, wiping at the sweat on his brow with his free hand.

Hutch spun back around toward the small pool. On the opposite side, some type of ivy or creeper reached through and over the mossy, rocky mounds. To his left, a few feet from the pond, water bubble up then trickled over a small pile of rocks. He crossed to it and found the water to be cool and fresh. He laughed, delighted by his find. “Hot and cold running water in paradise!” He splashed the cool water onto his face. “Starsk, isn’t it like, like an enchanted forest? Something from a fairytale.”

“Yeah,” Starsky said, too miserable from the heat and a sudden pounding headache to get very enthused. “It’s lovely.”

Pissed by his partner’s continued bad attitude even in the face of such beauty, Hutch spun around with a sneer on his face. “You know, you are unbelievable.” He put his hands on his hips, exasperated.

Starsky pulled off his sunglasses and pinched the bridge of his nose. “All this beauty is givin’ me a headache.” He scrunched his eyes closed as a particularly sharp pain raced up his neck and into his skull. An abrupt wave of nausea accompanied it.

“I don’t know what possessed me,” Hutch was ranting, “to go on vacation with you. Again! After spending every waking minute in your company, you’d think I’d have the sense to get away from you for awhile. I’m…” he hesitated, then erupted. “I’m sick of the sight of you!”

He could hear his partner yelling at him, spouting off about something or other, but the thrumming in his head drowned out most of the words. Except the last few. Swallowing down the building nausea he said, “Not as sick as I am of you, Blondie! As soon as we get back to the hotel, you can… you can…” Suddenly, the ground pitched beneath him and his legs disappeared. He stared down at his hands clenched in the mossy earth, confused. Then the nausea won out and he leaned forward, retching.

Hutch stood stock still with his mouth hanging open and blinked rapidly, trying to process the sudden change in his partner. One minute, Starsky had been spitting venom at him and the next he was on his hands and knees, vomiting. Shaking his head to snap out of it, he hesitantly went to his friend’s side.

“Hey, buddy, you okay?” He gently placed a hand on his friend’s back, all anger forgotten.

Starsky tried to open his mouth to answer, but the words couldn’t get past his constricted throat. Leaning forward again, he heaved onto the ground. Gasping for air, he finally whispered, “Mai Tai.”

Hutch strained to understand him. “What?”

“Drink. Musta been the drink. And this heat.” He moaned and clutched at his stomach.

“Take it easy, Starsk. Take it easy.” He rubbed his friend’s back, waiting for the nausea to subside.

After emptying the contents of his stomach, Starsky sat back and wrapped both arms across his abdomen. His eyes were tightly shut, and his teeth clenched. A sheen of perspiration covered his face and his shirt was clinging in sweaty patches under his arms and across his chest. He started to rock back and forth.

“Somethin’…” he gasped as a spasm ripped through his gut. “Somethin’s wrong, Hutch,” he grated out through his teeth.

Hutch ran a nervous hand through his damp blond hair. His partner was looking worse by the minute. “Starsk, what the hell’s going on? You were fine a minute ago.” He helped Starsky unfold his legs from under him and pulled him over to the rocks so he could lean against them. He was trying not to panic. Something was very wrong with his partner.

“Starsky,” he tried to get him to open his eyes, to focus on him. “Starsk, can you tell me what’s going on? What hurts?”

Starsky opened his eyes and tried, unsuccessfully, to focus on the face hovering before him. He gave up and let his head fall back against the wall of rock. It was getting harder to breath, and he struggled to pull in air. His mouth and throat were parched with the effort. “Thirsty, Hutch,” he croaked. To make matters worse, fear was further constricting his chest.

His friend sprang to his feet and rushed to the cool water spring bubbling up from the rocks. After washing his hands off, he cupped his hands to carry some of the soothing fluid to his thirsty friend. By the time he reached him, though, there wasn’t much left.

Starsky leaned forward, grasping Hutch’s cupped hands, and slurped down the water that was left. He gagged and coughed. It was hard to swallow. A few minutes later, whatever water had made it to his stomach came rushing back out. He pitched face first into the moss, moaning.

In a full panic now, Hutch gathered him into his lap. “Shit, shit, shit!” He rocked his now agonizing friend back and forth, regretting his insistence on this adventure.

Starsky curled into a ball, oblivious to the soothing words streaming from his partner’s lips. He clenched his abdomen as it knotted in spasms of pain, each worse than the last. He started to moan loudly. “Hutch,” he gasped, “help…”

At a loss for anything else to do, Hutch rocked him faster. Tilting his head back toward the blue sky above him, he squeezed his eyes shut and said a silent prayer for help. Ah, Starsk, what’s wrong? What happened? Suddenly, he remembered his partner swatting at something on the back of his neck. He stopped rocking and rolled his friend onto his side. He pulled down the collar of the Hawaiian shirt to examined the back of Starsky’s neck. An angry welt the size of a golf ball made him gasp in surprise and concern.

“What… what,” Starsky was struggling to talk. Unable to swallow, spittle was drooling from his lips. His eyes were wide with fear and pain. “I can’t…”

Hutch hugged him close to his body and began to rock again. “Shh. It’s okay, Starsk. Looks like you were bitten by a bug and you’re having a bad reaction. Hang in there. It’ll pass.” He didn’t believe his own words, but he had to say something to calm his partner.

The minutes passed slowly. Hutch listened to his friend’s labored breathing and gasps of pain as the muscle cramps seized him. After awhile, Starsky started to whimper and babble incoherently. Hutch pulled Starsky off his lap and laid him flat on the soft carpet of moss.

Starsky immediately curled into a fetal ball and moaned, grasping his stomach.

“Try to relax, buddy.” He rubbed his friend’s back, at a loss for anything more constructive to do.

After what seemed like an eternity, the spasms seemed to lessen and Starsky fell into an exhausted sleep. Hutch looked up to the sky to offer a prayer of thanks, and noticed that the sky had begun to darken. “Shit.”

I always have to have everything my way, he thought. Should’ve let Gordo take me to that club instead of dragging him out here. Now look at him.

Although he had uncurled slightly, his pale friend still had a hand pressed against his abdomen. His breathing was strained, wheezing in and out through now chapped lips. Hutch looked down at his misery, and his eyes clouded with tears.

I’m such a jerk.

Darkness settled quickly over the little clearing. A crescent moon, low on the horizon, offered scant light. Even so, Hutch could see his friend was shivering. A touch to his bare arm confirmed it. He quickly laid himself down behind his partner and pulled him close, trying to warm him with his own body heat. Although the air was still humid, the temperature had dropped significantly at sunset. Hutch felt a shiver run through him as well.

Hutch did his best to warm his friend, rubbing his arms and back, but Starsky’s chills intensified into tremors. He had to do something to get him warm, fast.

Hutch sat up and rubbed a hand over his face, thinking. There was no firewood in the little clearing. He didn’t have matches, anyway. Offering his own shirt to warm his friend would do little good, and he was already chilled himself.

The moon, climbing further into the sky, reflected off the misty surface of the pool. The light caught Hutch’s attention, and he stared at the reflection through the spring’s steam for a moment. Then he realized the thought that had been struggling to get his attention from deep inside his mind.

Hutch quickly stood and stripped down to his boxers. Then he made quick work of stripping his unconscious friend down to his underpants. Amidst protesting moans and whines, he dragged his shivering partner over and into the hot spring. Slowly, he immersed the two of them into the pool’s misty, warm embrace. Hutch propped himself up against some of the rocks and hugged Starsky to his chest, settling in for a long, long night.

“Just keep breathing, buddy,” Hutch whispered. “Just stay with me.”

Exhausted from the ordeal and soothed by the hot water, it didn’t take Hutch long to drift in and out of sleep. His head would loll forward, then snap back up as he struggled to remain awake and keep a firm grip on his partner. The fear that his friend would sink into the water and drown if he slackened his grip kept him from succumbing completely to the sweet escape of unconsciousness.

A sudden explosion high above him followed by blinding light startled him fully awake. The fireworks display had begun. He thought to look at his forgotten watch, still attached to his arm. It wasn’t waterproof and had stopped at 10:10. He had no idea if that was a few minutes ago or an hour.

“Hey, Starsk?” He shook him gently.

Starsky moaned.

“Hey, buddy. Can you open your eyes for a minute?”

Starsky struggled to open his eyes, to grant his friend’s request.

“Look!” Hutch coaxed him. “Fireworks!”

In the blaze from the fiery lights above, Hutch could see his friend’s eyelids flutter, open into a blank stare, then flutter closed again.

Hutch’s vision clouded with tears. “It’s okay, Starsk. Just wanted you to see your fireworks. Sleep. You’re gonna be okay.” As Hutch closed his eyes to the spectacle above them, a tear escaped and added itself to the water in the pool. Please, God, let him be okay.

Many hours later, Hutch awoke with a start. Panicked by the guilt of falling asleep and letting Starsky slip into the water, he instinctively tightened his grip. The sudden pressure against his chest made Starsky grunt. Hutch was so relieved that whatever had bitten his friend didn’t kill him during the night that he tightened his grip even more.

“Hey, Blintz,” he complained in little more than a whisper. “Ya tryin’ to crush me?”

Even in sleep, Hutch had maintained his grip. He allowed himself a deep breath, then let it out in a whoosh. He loosened his grip on Starsky’s chest. The moon was gone now, and he could see his friend’s face in the predawn ambient light. Although his eyes were still closed, Starsky’s face didn’t have the pinched, drawn look he had had the night before when he was racked with pain.

“Hey, partner,” Hutch said softly into his ear. “How are you feeling?”

Starsky opened his eyes halfway and sat quietly, trying to figure out where the hell he was. Finally, he said weakly, “Water logged.”

Hutch laughed through his nose and hugged his friend to his chest again, this time out of affection instead of necessity.

“I feel… feel like a prune,” the curly haired man added. “I’m all puckered. I wanna get out now, Hutch.”

The blond snickered. “Not yet, dirtball. It’s still too cool out. Let’s wait until the sun comes up and it warms a bit.”

“Dirtball? How can ya call me that when I’ve been soakin’ all night?” Starsky protested. But then he closed his eyes, exhausted by the effort of speaking, and drifted back to sleep. He started to snore softly.

It was music to Hutch’s ears.

The temperature rose quickly over the next hour. Anxious to get out of the water, Hutch had to continually restrain his instinct to drag himself and his friend out of the water too soon. Finally, when the temperature was such that he could no longer see the mist rising from the hot spring, he got shakily to his feet and pulled Starsky out onto the moss.

The movement woke the dark haired man. “Shit, you turned the air conditioner too cold again, Hutch,” he admonished, not quite awake or aware of his surroundings.

Hutch pulled off Starsky’s soaked underwear and chucked them over his shoulder. Then he pulled the jeans over his friend’s damp legs. The warmth of the material gave Starsky pleasant chills and he woke up some more.

“I’ll do it,” he said, slapping Hutch’s hands away from his zipper. Then he picked up his shirt and shrugged it on. The movement made him moan.

“You okay?” Hutch asked, placing an anxious hand on his partner’s arm.

“Just stiff,” Starsky explained. “Really stiff.” He tried to stretch out his arms and legs, but the movement made him wince and he stopped.

Hutch ditched his own, wet boxers and gratefully got into his dry clothes. Then he held out a hand to help his friend up. “Think you can stand?”

In response, Starsky grasped the outstretched hand and pulled. With a little more support from his friend’s other hand under his elbow, he managed to struggle to his feet. Hutch held him while he steadied himself.

“It’s a long walk back,” Hutch said quietly, avoiding Starsky’s eyes. “Think you can make it?”

Starsky took a deep breath and stood up as straight as he could. “Piece of cake.”

Hutch snickered at his partner’s indomitable spirit. Starsky had to laugh at himself, too.

As they started for the exit of the little piece of paradise in which they’d spent a harrowing night, the smile faded from Hutch’s lips. “Starsk, I’m so sorry,” he said morosely. “I’ve been such a jerk. I never should have dragged you out here.”

Starsky leaned heavily on his partner’s shoulder. “That’s okay, Blintz. We have four more days in which ya can make it up to me.”

And I will, Hutch promised himself. Oh, partner, I sure will.

The End