A Me and Thee Thanksgiving

20

Starsky wants to make Thanksgiving dinner for their friends,  Hutch is not thrilled with the idea.

 

Written for the 2025 Advent Calendar.

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“Whadda’ ya’ wanna’ do for Thanksgiving this year?” Starsky asked one morning in mid November of 1984.

“I assume we’ll do what we’ve been doing the last few years, go to the Dobey’s,” Hutch replied. “Why, any reason to do something different? We’ve already been invited.” Since Starsky’s shooting by Gunther, and his return to work in cold cases, and Hutch’s promotion to lieutenant, their old captain had been trying to see more of them socially.

“I guess not. I’ve just been thinking it would be fun to do our own Thanksgiving here for a change.” The two men, out of the closet finally, were living together in a comfortable rental house.

“Who would we invite? The Dobeys have their Thanksgiving, so does Mrs. Ramos for Kiko and Molly. It would end up being just us and maybe Huggy.”

“We don’t have to invite anyone else. That’s enough to celebrate,” Starsky protested.

“And who would cook? Have you ever cooked a turkey? I never have,” Hutch pointed out.

“You’ve roasted a chicken. How different can a turkey be? It’s just a bigger bird.”

“The chicken doesn’t start out being frozen and need to be thawed for hours. And what about the rest of the food? You know how you love all that stuff. I couldn’t make it all.”

“Edith does.”

“Edith has been doing it for years, and knows what she’s doing. Besides, all the other guests bring some of the food. We bring that apple pie that I make, that you like so much.”

Starsky sighed and didn’t say anything, just looked at Hutch with puppy-dog eyes.

“No, Starsk. I mean it!” He wagged his index finger at Starsky. “I can’t make an entire Thanksgiving dinner for just you and me, and maybe Huggy, on short notice like this.”

Starsky sighed again. “Okay Hutch, you win. You are just no fun,” he added, pouting.

It was Hutch’s turn to sigh. “How about this? We go to the Dobey’s this year, plans are already set, it’s too late to do anything else now. But next year we start planning earlier, maybe get some time off work, and we can have our own Thanksgiving and invite Huggy and maybe Mrs. Ramos, and Molly and Kiko before they make their own plans.”

Starsky brightened a little. “All right, that sounds good. Maybe we can even invite the Dobeys. Edith might like a year off for once.”

So that year they had dinner with the Dobey’s and their friends and family, as usual. They had, as Starsky quoted from Arlo Guthrie, “A Thanksgiving dinner that couldn’t be beat”, and at the end of the meal, when they were having desert, he asked “So Edith, how about you let me and Hutch take care of Thanksgiving dinner next year?”

Mrs. Dobey looked startled. “Well, I don’t know, dear. That’s a long way away from now. Ken, do you think you want to do a Thanksgiving dinner for all these people?” She gestured at the full table.

Hutch looked dubious, but he glanced at Starsky’s hopeful expression, and said “I think I could manage it, with some help.”

“Well, if you think so, dear. We can talk about it in a few months though, no need to discuss it now.”

Hutch nodded agreement so the topic was changed.

***

Time passed, and Hutch hoped the issue would be forgotten, but when October of the next year came, Starsky brought it up again.

“So Hutch, we’re doing Thanksgiving dinner this year, right?”

Hutch sighed. “We’ll talk to Edith about it.”

So they did. Mrs Dobey looked thoughtful for a moment, then she said “Well, if you really want to try, Ken, this might be a good year to do it. Some of our usual guests might have plans of their own this year, so there won’t be as many to cook for.”

“We’ll do it!” Starsky said eagerly. Hutch gave him a dirty look, but agreed. “Yeah, give us the guest list and we’ll work it out.”

***

In fact, as it turned out, luckily most of the Dobey’s regular guests did have other plans, so they were left with a list of 12, the Dobeys, with Rosie and Cal, Mrs. Ramos, with Kiko and Molly, Huggy Bear, and two of Mrs. Dobey’s family who came every year, plus of course Starsky and Hutch themselves.

Mrs. Dobey offered them the loan of her 12 place setting china set, and Hutch gratefully accepted. He actually had a turkey platter left over from his marriage to Vanessa, so that was all right. He grimly set out to make a menu.

“The turkey, of course, with stuffing and gravy. Mashed potatoes. Turnips. That’s our responsibility. Edith will make macaroni and cheese. Mrs. Ramos can bring her fried plantains. Huggy can bring a few pies from the bakery, for dessert, with ice cream and whipped cream, and of course his sweet potatoes. Edith’s cousins can bring their green bean casserole, and the squash. What does that leave?”

“Dinner rolls. Drinks. Pearl white onions.”

“Pearl onions? Really, Starsk?”

“I like pearl onions. And anyway, they’re easy, They just come from a jar and you heat them up.”

Hutch nodded in surrender. “OK, pearl onions. What else?”

“Do we have to have turnips? They’re so bland,” Starsky complained.

Hutch nodded firmly. “If we’re doing this, we’re doing it right. My mother always made turnips for Thanksgiving dinner,” he added.

Starsky sighed but nodded in acquiescence, secretly pleased Hutch was getting into the spirit. “Butter for the rolls. Coffee and tea. Half and half for the coffee. Appetizers,” he said.

“Appetizers. Oh lord, I hadn’t thought of appetizers.”

“We can keep it simple,” Starsky said comfortingly. “A cheese and cracker plate, we can get a premade one from the supermarket.”

Hutch sighed. “OK, that works. And a selection of dates and nuts, that should satisfy everyone.”

Then he ran into the first snag. “Uh Starsk? Do you know how large a turkey I need for 12 people?”

Starsky shrugged. “No idea. Big, I guess.”

“Not helpful, Starsk,” Hutch grumbled. He reached for the phone and dialed. “Hello, Edith? It’s Ken. How big a turkey do I need for 12 people?” He nodded. “About 15 pounds, huh? OK. And how long does that take to defrost? That long? OK, I see.”

He thanked her and hung up. “Well, we’re going to have that turkey in the refrigerator for a long time.”

“How long?”

“About four days.”

“That’s a long time!”

“Well,” Hutch pointed out, “It’s a big bird.”

“I guess,” Starsky admitted.

***

Plans moved on. Shopping was done. A 15 pound turkey was purchased, and the freezer was emptied to make room for it, waiting for the time it would move into the refrigerator to defrost. Cookbooks were taken out from the library and perused. All progressed nicely.

Then disaster struck. Two days before the turkey was to start defrosting, Hutch was coming downstairs from their second floor bedroom, when he tripped and fell most of the way down. The result was a broken collarbone on the right side, and a sprained wrist on the left, immobilizing both his arms.

“It’s lucky you didn’t break your neck,” Starsky said fervently on Hutch’s first night back from the hospital, tucking him into bed with a kiss. He carefully climbed in next to him.

“You know we’ll have to call off the Thanksgiving dinner,” Hutch said, taking a deep breath. “I can’t cook dinner for 12 in a sling and wrist bandage.”

“No!” Starsky objected. “We have to go through with it at this point! We can’t let everyone down!”

“Starsk, what else can we do? I can’t do it. Maybe Edith can take over.”

“We can’t dump it on her at this point!” Starsky declared. “We have to do it ourselves. Me and Thee, partner. I’ll do it. I’m not so bad at cooking myself, you know that. You just tell me what to do.”

“Come on Starsky. This is a big job. I was counting on you to have the house ready for guests while I did the cooking. You can’t do everything.”

“We can get Huggy to help too.” Starsky pointed out. “He’ll be willing. It’s an emergency after all.”

“I knew this was a bad idea when you brought it up last year,” Hutch sighed.

“Hey, everything was fine until you fell down the stairs, you klutz,” Starsky growled. Then his tone softened. “I’ll call Huggy tomorrow, and get him to help. You tell me what needs to be done, and we’ll do it.”

“I guess we don’t have any option,” Hutch conceded.

“It’ll be fine,” Starsky assured him. “Now go to sleep. You need to rest and recover.”

***

So the next day Starsky put out an SOS call to Huggy. True to predictions, he was more than willing to help. Fortunately the house was in pretty good shape, both the men being fairly neat housekeepers. Still, the day long having passed when Hutch employed Fifi as a maid, there was cleaning and dusting to be done.

Huggy and Starsky swept, dusted, and mopped. They scrubbed the bathroom and tidied the TV room. Hutch sat and supervised. Finally he declared the house clean enough for company.

The turkey was set to defrost in the fridge, and it became a waiting game.

Then, the day before Thanksgiving, the rush started. Starsky went to the store, and bought a large turnip, a cheese and cracker plate which joined the turkey in the refrigerator, a bag of potatoes and other supplies. Packages of dates and nuts were bought and put in the pantry. And Starsky did not forget a jar of pearl white onions. Hutch checked recipes and went over the spice cabinet. All was made ready.

Finally it was Thanksgiving day. Guests had been invited for 3:00 pm and dinner was scheduled for 6:00 pm. Starsky and Hutch had their alarm set for 6:00 am to start the cooking.

“Ugh. It is too early to be up,” Starsky grumbled, pulling himself out of their warm, cozy bed.

“You wanted to have Thanksgiving this year,” Hutch said unsympathetically, following suit.

They showered and dressed, with Starsky helping Hutch, and headed to the kitchen. They had coffee, and breakfast, something light just to see them through til dinner. Then they started in on the serious cooking. Hutch positioned himself on one of the kitchen stools and directed Starsky.

The first thing he had Starsky do was take out the turkey from the refrigerator and remove the packet of giblets from inside. Those got put in a pan with water to simmer, to be turned into giblet gravy.

Then they started on the stuffing. Bread crumbs, melted butter, herbs, all got mixed in Hutch’s big mixing bowl. Sausage meat was added, and broth went in, and then finally the whole mixture got stuffed in the turkey, as much as would fit.

“Hey, this is kinda’ fun,” Starsky said as he pushed handfuls of the sticky mixture into the turkey’s cavity. He sniffed. “Smells good, too.”

“Don’t play with your food,” Hutch admonished. Starsky gave him a dirty look and finished the turkey. There was stuffing left over, so they put that in another pan to be cooked separately.

Hutch breathed a sigh of relief. “That’s the big job, the turkey,” he said. “Everything else is just side dishes.” He directed Starsky in covering it with a tent of aluminum foil. “Now we put it into the oven at around 1:00, baste it occasionally, and it should be fine by dinner time.”

“OK, now what?” Starsky asked, looking around at the kitchen, which was covered with the ingredients still to be dealt with.

“You’d better start peeling the potatoes, I think,” Hutch said thoughtfully. “Do you know how?”

Starsky laughed. “I know all about peeling potatoes from doing KP duty in the army.” He dug around in the kitchen drawer and found a peeler. “Boy did I get familiar with these.”

He set to peeling furiously. True to his word, he was good at it, and the potatoes were soon devoid of skins. “Now what?” he asked. “Do we cut ‘em up, or boil them like this?”

“Cut them into chunks,” Hutch directed from his perch on the stool. “Then we boil them for about 15 minutes.”

Starsky soon had the chunks of potato in Hutch’s biggest pot heating on the stove. The day was moving on. They took the time to have more coffee.

By the time they had finished their coffee, the potatoes were ready for mashing. “Find the potato masher,” Hutch ordered.

Starsky dug in the overstuffed kitchen drawer and came up with it. He drained the water from the potatoes and dug in. “Hey, this is kinda’ fun,” he said as he vigorously pummeled the potatoes. “Gives you a chance to work out all your resentments.” Soon though, he was getting tired.

“Now we add a bit of half and half, and some butter,” Hutch said, “and I think we can whip them with the mixer.”

Starsky dug out the electric mixer, and plugged it in. Soon the potatoes were smooth and creamy.

“Let me try a mouthful,” Hutch requested. Starsky obediently scooped a spoonful out and held it while Hutch tasted. He nodded approvingly. “Very good. Cover them to keep them warm.”

“Now what?” Starsky said, shaking out his tired arms.

“Now the turnips,” Hutch decreed.

Starsky sighed. “If we gotta’. Same as the potatoes, right? Cut up, boiled and mashed?” he added without enthusiasm, rubbing his slightly sore left arm.

Hutch laughed. “Don’t worry. I know you don’t like them like that, I’ve got a better idea. I read some ideas in those cookbooks, and we’re going to have roast turnip. Much more flavorful, much less bitter.”

Starsky perked up. “Sounds interestin’. What do we do?”

“Well first you do have to peel it. Then you chop it up. That much is like the potatoes. But it doesn’t get boiled and mashed.”

Starsky shrugged. “Easy enough. There’s only one of it.” He suited actions to words and soon had the turnip peeled and chopped into bite sized pieces. “Now what?”

Hutch directed him in coating the turnip pieces with olive oil. Starsky looked at the oil bottle nostalgically. “Remember the first time we got it on, Hutch? No lube, so we used olive oil.”

“I remember,” Hutch grumbled. “My best extra virgin olive oil. Very expensive.”

“It was for a good cause,” Starsky said dismissively.

“That’s true,” Hutch admitted. “It was worth it.” He pulled Starsky over with his bandaged left arm, and kissed him, long and slow. Starsky moved into it, and put his arm around Hutch in a hug, deepening the kiss. He moaned slightly and pressed against Hutch.

Hutch broke away. “We don’t have time for this,” he said briskly. “It’s time to put the turkey in the oven.”

Starsky adjusted his jeans. “You are so cruel, you know that?”

“You wanted to do Thanksgiving dinner,” Hutch said unsympathetically. “Now lets get the turkey on.”

That’s when they realized they had forgotten to preheat the oven. “Damn,” Hutch cursed vehemently. “That puts us behind schedule.”

“Not too far,” Starsky soothed. “This oven preheats pretty fast.” He turned it on.

“While we wait, what’s left to do?”

“The gravy, the turnips, the extra stuffing, the dinner rolls need to be browned,” Starsky counted out, “And we should set up the coffee maker, and don’t forget my onions.”

“Heaven forbid we should forget your onions, Starsk. They’re the centerpiece of the meal,” Hutch said sarcastically.

Starsky was offended. “Hey, I like the onions.” His voice grew reminiscent. “When we had Thanksgiving at Uncle Al and Aunt Rosy’s, we always had ‘em and Uncle Al loved ‘em.”

Hutch sighed. “OK Starsk. I didn’t mean to be dismissive of Uncle Al’s memory. Now let’s get to work.”

Starsky put the turkey in the oven along with the pan of extra stuffing. Then he finished tossing the turnip chunks with olive oil, and some herbs, and set them aside to cook after the turkey was finished.

“Now what?” he asked.

“The giblet gravy.”

The gravy was much more complicated than Starsky had anticipated. Easily the most complicated thing they had done, even more than the stuffing, it involved chopping the giblets, and making a roux, adding chicken stock and chopped onion and celery, and various herbs, the water the giblets had simmered in, and more. By the time they were done, though, it smelled delicious and looked great.

They had been basting the turkey regularly since they put it in, and the scent was beginning to permeate the whole house. Starsky found his stomach beginning to rumble.

At 2:00 Huggy came over early to help set up. He brought an apple pie, a mince pie, a sweet potato pie, and a pumpkin pie, vanilla ice cream, and a can of whipped cream. Also, a pan of his special recipe sweet potatoes.

“Happy Thanksgiving, my brothers,” he said, setting everything down. “Smells good in here!”

The ice cream went in the freezer, the whipped cream in the refrigerator, and the pies and sweet potatoes on the kitchen counter, which was getting crowded.

Starsky and Hutch had a good dining room table, that had extra leaves to expand it, so Starsky and Huggy opened it up. They still needed extra room so they added a card table at the end, and covered it all with a cheerful paper Thanksgiving tablecloth they had bought.

Then Huggy set out the china and silverware borrowed from Mrs. Dobey while Starsky went back to cooking under Hutch’s direction.

“What do we still have to do?” Starsky asked.

“The turnips and dinner rolls, but they don’t go in the oven until the turkey comes out. I think everything else is done,” Hutch answered.

“And my pearl onions!” Starsky added.

“And your onions, which only have to be heated in a saucepan for about 10 minutes before we eat,” Hutch acquiesced.

At 3:00 the guests aside from Huggy began arriving. Mrs. Ramos was first with Kiko and Molly. She had a pan of fried plantains which Kiko carried. “Such a joy, not having to cook this year!” she said appreciatively, sniffing the aroma of the cooking turkey.

Molly hugged both men, being careful of Hutch’s damaged arms.

“Hi guys,” Kiko said, putting down the plantains.

Then the Dobeys arrived, with Cal and Rosie and Mrs. Dobey’s cousins. Their food offerings joined the others in the kitchen. Mrs. Dobey went to check on how the cooking was coming. “I was so worried that you wouldn’t be able to do it all with poor Hutch’s injuries, but you seem to have worked everything out just fine,” she said approvingly.

Huggy made everyone comfortable in the living room and Starsky brought out the cheese and crackers, and the dates and the nut bowl. Hutch had picked out a bottle of wine, and Starsky opened it with a flourish. They all had some, even a small glass each for the youngsters. Luckily Hutch had finished with the painkillers he had been prescribed for his arm and was able to have some as well.

Starsky and Hutch went back to the kitchen, and basted the turkey again. It was getting close to being done by this point. Now that almost everything was ready, they were able to divide their time between the kitchen and their guests.

Conversation flowed. Starsky checked the time at one point, and made everyone quiet down. He turned on the radio, for the annual broadcast of Arlo Guthrie’s Alice’s Restaurant. Everyone laughed and cheered and sang along at the finale.

“You can get anything you want
At Alice’s restaurant.
Walk right in, it’s around the back
Just a half a mile from the railroad track…”

“Here’s to having a Thanksgiving dinner that can’t be beat!” Starsky offered a toast after it was done. Everyone drank.

The turkey was taken out of the oven to sit for a half hour, and the turnips and dinner rolls were put in. Starsky made absolutely certain his onions were poured from their jar and heated up.

And then finally, somewhat after the planned 6:00 (because of the holdup preheating the oven) they sat down to dinner.

“Who’s going to say grace?” asked Captain Doby, standing ready to carve the bird. He had the most experience with carving, and of course Hutch couldn’t anyway. Everyone looked around at each other.

“We’ve always said it should be the youngest one,” one of Mrs. Dobey’s cousins said shyly. “That means Rosie this year I think.”

Rosie blushed, but managed “OK, I’ll say what they taught us in Sunday school.” She put her hands together. “Heavenly Father bless this food to our use, and us to Your service.”

Everyone said “amen”, and the captain nodded approvingly. He started carving, and there was general commotion as the food was passed, and eating commenced. Hutch was able to manage eating with his left hand if he was careful, and had a little help from Starsky.

It was hard to say what made the biggest hit. Everything was delicious, and everyone ate with a will. The turkey was moist and flavorful. Starsky declared the roasted turnips fantastic, saying they actually made him like turnips for a change. Huggy’s sweet potatoes were a big hit, and everyone enjoyed Mrs. Ramos’s fried plantains, quite different from what they were used to having.

Even Starsky’s white onions were devoured. “I really like these!” Molly said, as she took a bite.

Starsky grinned with pride. “See Hutch, some people appreciate the finer things in life!”

Hutch rolled his eyes.

They had another bottle of wine, and this time Hutch proposed a toast. “To the best friends Starsky and I could ever have! Thank you all for being here today.”

Everyone drank, and then Captain Dobey proposed another toast, “To the makers of this fine feast, Bay City’s two finest officers, and my good friends, Starsky and Hutch!” Everyone cheered and drank again.

Finally dessert was served, along with coffee and tea. Huggy admitted the pies were not homemade, but came from a very good bakery.

“Run by an old friend of mine,” he explained. “The Bear knows where to get the best fare.”

They were indeed delicious. Most of the guests had multiple pieces. Starsky had some of each, in between dealing with the coffee maker and tea kettle.

They went back to the living room and sat down. There was another bottle of wine, and the conversation flourished.

Finally though Starsky sighed and got up. “Gotta’ start cleaning up,” he said ruefully. “Huggy, gimme’ a hand, will ya’?” Huggy nodded and got up too.

Mrs. Dobey and Mrs. Ramos looked at each other. “We’ll do that, dear,” Mrs. Dobey said.

“You’re guests,” Hutch objected. “Let us do it,” He stood to go supervise.

“We’ll all help,” Captain Dobey said. “Come on kids, lend a hand.”

With everyone helping, it didn’t take long. The plates were scraped and loaded in the dishwasher. The pots and pans were emptied of leftovers, which were divided between people to store or take home, and the pots themselves were rinsed and loaded in the dishwasher.

“Aren’t you glad now I convinced you to get the dishwasher, Hutch?” asked Starsky as it was turned on.

“You’d be the one washing the dishes, not me,” Hutch pointed out.

The paper tablecloth was bundled up and thrown away and the card table was folded up, as were the folding chairs that had been used for extra seating. The counter and stove top were wiped down, and the floor was swept. Soon the kitchen and dining room looked as clean as they had before it all began.

They sat back down in the living room again, but it was late by then and the conversation faltered. Soon the Dobeys were the first to leave.

“Got to be in work bright and early tomorrow,” the captain said regretfully. “Hutch, I know you’re on medical leave, but Starsky, be sure you show up ready to go.”

Starsky and Hutch stood to say good bye. “We’ll pack your dishes up and get them back to you this weekend, Edith,” Hutch promised Mrs. Dobey. Captain Dobey clapped the two men on the back and carried the leftovers, Mrs. Dobey gave them each a kiss.

Rosie gave the men hugs, and Cal shook hands with Starsky and elbow bumped Hutch. Mrs. Dobey’s two cousins, who had come with the Dobeys, said good bye and left too, with their leftovers.

“Well, if the party is breaking up, we should get home too,” Mrs. Ramos said. Kiko and Molly hugged Starsky and Hutch, and carried their leftovers.

Huggy stayed longer, and the three men had some beers, and reminisced about past times, but eventually he too packed up his leftovers, and departed, leaving Starsky and Hutch alone.

“Well, we did it, partner!” Starsky said. “Me an’ Thee, like always. I told you we could do it, didn’t I?”

“Yes, you did,” Hutch admitted. “But we couldn’t have without Huggy this time.”

“Only ‘cause you fell down the stairs,” Starsky replied, “Otherwise we coulda’ done it all. Now let me get you into bed, my big beautiful blond.”

They went up to the bedroom, and Starsky helped Hutch off with his clothing. “You know what I’m thankful for this Thanksgiving, Hutch?” he asked. “I’m thankful you didn’t kill yourself on the stairs.”

“So am I,” Hutch said sincerely.

“And I’m thankful that we’re here together,” Starsky continued. “And I’m gonna’ show you just how thankful I am, Baby Blue.” He gently pushed Hutch down on the bed, and started removing his own clothes.

“Uh, Starsk, are you sure this is a good idea?” Hutch asked, worried. “My arm… and my hand.”

“Don’t worry, Schweetheart, it’ll be fine. Just relax and let me do all the work.” Hutch looked dubious, but Starsky was insistent. Naked, he lay down on the bed next to Hutch, and kissed him deeply and passionately, and let his hands roam all over Hutch’s body, his chest, his nipples, his cock and balls.

Hutch moaned softly as Starsky transferred his mouth to one nipple. “Oh yeah Starsk, that feels so good.”

“Gonna’ make you feel even better soon,” Starsky murmured. “Been thinking how to do this safely ever since you got back from the hospital. You just stay still and don’t move your arms.”

His roving hands found Hutch’s crotch, where his cock was already standing at attention. His own cock was engorged and stiff as well by now. He wrapped a hand around Hutch, and very gently began pumping, running his finger over the slit at the top, already leaking precum, and using his other hand to tease his balls. He bent over Hutch and tongued his already stiff nipples again.

Hutch was groaning and sighing passionately. “Oh God yes, Starsk.”

Abruptly Starsky got up, and reached over to the bed table drawer.

“Hey, don’t stop!” Hutch cried.

“Not stoppin’” Starsky soothed. “Just gotta’ get the lube.” He pulled the tube of KY out of the drawer, and opened the screw top.

He wrapped his hand around Hutch’s cock again, this time applying a handful of lube. He spread it until the whole impressive length of Hutch’s cock was slippery and glistening. Then he reached a handful of the gel around to his own back entrance.

“Better if you could do this for me,” he said huskily, “But this’ll do.” He inserted one finger into his own opening, ensuring that lube got in. Then he carefully hoisted himself over Hutch’s body, holding on to his waist, straddling him, one leg kneeling on either side, and lowered himself onto Hutch’s jutting phallus.

“Gonna’ ride you like a cowboy,” he murmured.

There was some initial resistance as Hutch penetrated his waiting opening, but Starsky reached a hand around and helped with the direction and aim. Slowly Starsky worked his way down the length, taking Hutch farther and deeper into his willing body.

Hutch started to reach up an arm to Starsky but Starsky pushed it down. “Don’t move those arms.” he ordered. “Last thing we need is doing more damage to that collarbone.”

Hutch growled in frustration but obeyed. He arched his back and thrust with his hips, though, pushing farther into Starsky. Starsky groaned in pleasure as Hutch hit the magic spot, and pushed down. His own cock, fully hard and erect, was sandwiched between their bodies.

They worked up a rhythm, in and out up and down. Starsky managed to reach Hutch’s gasping mouth with his own, in a wet, hot kiss that sent electric pulses through both their bodies.

Finally, with a passionate, massive thrust, Hutch came deep in Starsky’s body. Starsky, feeling the throbbing and rush, pushed himself even deeper onto Hutch, and came too, letting out a throaty yell of “Huuuutch!!!” as his cock found its release.

Gasping and sweat covered, Starsky carefully disengaged himself from Hutch’ shrinking phallus and rolled over to the side, lying next to Hutch. He stroked Hutch’s damp hair away from his face and gave him a final, gentle kiss, “Oh Babe, that was good,” he murmured.

“Better if I could have helped with things,” Hutch groused. “You’ve done all the work today, the cooking and now this.”

“Don’t worry Schweethart, you did enough,” Starsky assured him. “I got no complaints. And I don’t think any of our guests had complaints about the food either. I told you I could do it.”

“With me directing you,” Hutch reminded him.

“See? You did help. I couldn’t have done it without you. Me and Thee together, again.” He leaned over and kissed Hutch gently. “Now let me clean us up a bit, and then I gotta’ go to sleep. One of us has to be in work tomorrow.”

He got up and went to the bathroom, coming back with wet wash cloths and a towel, and wiped them both down. Then the wash cloths and towel went in the laundry, and Starsky curled up next to Hutch.

“I hope you like turkey,” Hutch said drowsily as they cuddled.

“Of course I do, but why bring it up?” Starsky asked.

“Because tomorrow starts the leftovers. We have enough turkey left for days to come. Turkey sandwiches, turkey soup, turkey tetrazzini… Not to mention the other food. And you’ll have to cook it all. I can’t.”

“I think I can manage it, Hutch. Now go to sleep.”

He rolled over and was soon snoring gently. Hutch tried to follow suit, but soon found himself thinking of the day and it’s meaning. What was he thankful for? His life, his friends, his job, his family… and of course, first and always most important, the man lying next to him. Starsky, his other half. Always and forever, Me and Thee til the end.