Almost Sixteen

Hutch is trying to help Kiko with his schoolwork when he learns that Kiko needs help with more than Contemporary Literature. A slice-of-life story…

The tension inside the Torino was thick, but growing less so as its proximity to the station increased.

“I can’t believe he stood us up!” Starsky fumed, not for the first time on this particular trip.

“Maybe Huggy got the time or place wrong,” Hutch offered calmly.

“Or maybe Jonesy’s just a crazy drunk who blew Huggy a load of crap about knowing who’s behind all these car thefts just so’s Huggy would give him a free beer.”

Apparently not having an argument for that, Hutch glanced at his watch. “Step on it, will ya? I don’t like leaving the kid for so long. Don’t worry,” he added, “we’ll find Jonesy tomorrow.”

“I hope he found a deep hole to crawl into, because if I find him…”

“I’ll hold your coat while you shovel the dirt on top of him, partner.”

Starsky didn’t respond, but he did move into the left-hand lane to pass a couple of cars. “You think he knows about us?”

“Jonesy?” Hutch frowned in confusion.

“No, dummy, the kid.”

“Oh.” Hutch looked over at Starsky. “Honestly, I don’t know. It’s never come up.”

“You think his mother knows?”

“Considering she gave the both of us one quilt for Christmas last year, I’d say the odds are good. Plus, she’s mentioned about a dozen times that her cousin and ‘his friend’ live a couple of blocks from us.”

Starsky negotiated the final turn to the station, smiling when he spotted his favorite parking space sitting empty. “Yeah, I’d say she’s onto us,” he said as he eased the Torino into the slot. “Wonder when the kid will—”

“We’ll deal with it when we have to, Starsk. Keep in mind that he’s only fifteen.” Hutch shook his head sadly. “Right now, I think his biggest concern is becoming PacMan champion of the world.”

Laughing, Starsky joined his partner on the sidewalk. “At least he’s got a goal in life.” He clapped a hand on Hutch’s shoulder. “C’mon, let’s make a quick run by Records and see if they can get us a home address for Jonesy.”

~*~*~*~*~

Captain Dobey entered the empty squad room as stealthily as possible for a man of his bulk. He’d had to abort this mission earlier in the day when Simmons and Babcock decided to eat lunch at their desks, and then had to wait all afternoon as a seemingly endless parade of officers wandered in and out. Too many witnesses would spoil everything.

Pausing for a furtive glance at the hallway window, the sneaky captain froze when he heard a cheery greeting from the back of the room.

“Hiya, Captain Dobey!”

Dobey whirled around. “Who’s there?” A hesitant step forward, then a slow exhalation as the crooked grin of Kiko Ramos came into view from behind a stack of file folders on Hutchinson’s desk.

“Hi yourself, Kiko.” Dobey swiped a handkerchief across his perspiring face. “I didn’t know anyone was in here. Are you waiting for Hutchinson?”

Kiko nodded. “Him and Starsky had to go meet somebody somewhere about somethin’. They’re supposed to be back in a few minutes.”

Perching on the edge of Starsky’s desk, Dobey craned his neck to see the open textbook Kiko was reading. “Contemporary Literature? Isn’t that a little advanced for—well, I guess not. You’re fifteen or so now, aren’t you?”

“Almost sixteen,” Kiko said firmly as he closed the book and placed it on top of his book bag.

The captain’s mustache twitched. “You sound like Cal. He was ‘almost eighteen’ two months after he turned seventeen.” He glanced at the textbook again. “So, how are your grades?”

“Pretty good, except in this class.” Kiko pointed to the book in front of him. “That’s why Hutch is helping me. He thinks maybe I can get a college scholarship if I get all my grades up to where I am in Math and Science.”

Dobey gave a quick nod of approval. “Good plan. I hope it works out for you.” Turning to scan the otherwise empty room, he looked back at Kiko and smiled. “Wanna give me a hand with something?”

Kiko swallowed audibly. “Um, sure. I guess.”

“C’mon, it’ll be fun.” Dobey stood up and beckoned his unknowing accomplice into his office.

~*~*~*~*~

“Where’s the kid?” Starsky looked around the empty office.

“How would I know? I was with you.” Hutch shoved Kiko’s books and book bag to the side of the desk. “At least he’s had his book out. Be nice if he was reading it.”

“Yeah…hey, Hutch, was my chair here when we left?” Starsky stood in front of his desk, hands on hips, and surveyed the room.

“I don’t know. It’s your chair.” Hutch sat down and fed a sheet of paper into the typewriter. “Hurry up and get your report done so we can get out of here.”

Starsky walked around the room and verified that none of the chairs were his, then leaned out into the hallway to ensure it wasn’t there. “Where could it be?”

“It’s around here somewhere,” Hutch replied without looking up from his keyboard. “Why don’t you just grab Babcock’s chair and use it? We’ll find your chair later. Do your report.” The desk phone rang. “Or get the phone.”

“I don’t want to sit in Babcock’s chair. I want my chair,” Starsky groused. The phone rang again.

“Starsk….”

“Huh? Oh.” Starsky picked up the handset, eyes still scanning the room for the missing chair. “Starsky.” He listened for a moment. “Okay, we’ll meet him tomorrow, but tell him he only gets one excuse. I don’t care if he has ten migraines tomorrow–if he blows us off again, he’ll never know another day of peace.” He slammed down the phone. “Can you believe that guy? There’s no honor among snitches anymore.”

“Yeah…” Hutch glanced up. “Starsk, your report?”

“Okay, okay,” Starsky sighed. “I’ll use Babcock’s chair.” He dragged the neighboring chair over and plopped into it, wiggling and squirming until he found a comfortable spot.

When the phone rang again, he leaned forward to answer it and then froze, apparently realizing he’d have to lift his rear out of the chair. “Hey, get that, will ya? I only just got comfortable.”

Hutch snatched up the phone. “Hutchinson!” he barked into the handset, then froze in place. “A what?”

Starsky stopped rolling the sheet of paper into his typewriter and looked up in time to see his partner exhale slowly before speaking calmly into the mouthpiece.

“No, Jonesy, I will not ask Starsky to apologize. We drove halfway across town to meet you, and you weren’t there. He has a right to be pissed off. If I were you, I’d be there tomorrow.” Hutch hung up the phone without waiting for a response, then turned his attention to Kiko, who was just coming into the room. “Hey, buddy, where’ve you been?”

“Helping Captain Dobey with somethin’.” Kiko hoisted himself up on a table near Hutch’s desk.

Hutch tossed Kiko his textbook. “Did you finish your homework?”

“Yep. I even started studying for the test on Friday.”

“Smart guy.” Hutch smiled his approval. “Give us about…” He looked at Starsky.

“Five minutes.”

“Five minutes, then we’ll be ready.” Hutch nodded at the book. “I’ll quiz you when we get to our place.”

“I’ll be ready,” Kiko said.

“I’ll cook dinner.” Starsky chimed in.

Kiko and Hutch exchanged a knowing look.

“I’ll take mine with everything except anchovies,” Kiko teased.

“Get extra veggies,” Hutch added, winking at Kiko before turning back to his report.

“Everyone’s a comedian,” Starsky grumbled into his typewriter.

Fifteen minutes later, when both detectives were finally proofreading their reports, Angela Byers, an R&I clerk, entered the room to hand-deliver a packet of files to Starsky. After a barely-there smile in Hutch’s direction, she planted herself next to his partner. Starsky looked up at her and grinned.

“Angie-baby! What have you got for me?” Starsky leaned back to make room for the files, and ‘Angie-baby’ obliged by leaning over his shoulder to place the stack carefully in front of him. This put her impressive cleavage inches from his face, and Starsky wasn’t shy about taking a long appreciative look at her assets.

“These are the B&E statistics you asked for this morning,” Angie purred into Starsky’s ear and shifted closer. “I got them ready as soon as I could.”

Hutch gave a soft snort, obviously entertained at Starsky’s attempt to maintain his composure with a 38D in his ear.

“Uh…ah…um, thanks…uh, thanks for bringing ’em to me.” Starsky opened one of the folders Angie had placed before him and buried his flushed face in it. “The folders, I mean.”

“We both appreciate it, Angela,” Hutch chimed in helpfully. Signing his report, he stood up and held out his hand for Starsky’s report. “Are you about ready to go, partner?”

“Yeah, here.” Starsky scrawled his signature across his report and passed it over.

“Thanks again, Angela.” Hutch said on his way into Dobey’s office.

“Yeah, well…” Angela brushed her fingertips across Starsky’s shoulders. “If you don’t have time to talk, Dave, I guess I’ll go back upstairs.”

Starsky scooted his chair back, putting a safe distance between them. “Maybe another time, Ange.”

“Sure.” Angie smiled prettily and turned to leave, stopping when she spotted Kiko. “Well, hello there.”

“Um…hi,” Kiko mumbled.

“Didn’t I see you earlier with—”

“Yes, ma’am. I was helping Captain Dobey.”

“Oh. Well, nice to see you again.” Angie leaned down to Starsky’s shoulder again. “You, too,” she whispered in his ear.

Starsky jumped a little, then waggled his fingers as Angela left the room.

Just as the door shut behind Angie, Hutch breezed back into the office and grabbed his jacket from the back of his chair. “You guys ready?”

“Yeah,” Starsky said, slowly getting to his feet. “I didn’t think she’d ever—”

In a sudden flurry of motion, Kiko bolted off the table, grabbed his book bag from Hutch’s desk, and hurried to the door.

“Where you goin’?” Hutch called.

“Bathroom. Meet you at the car.” Two very puzzled detectives were left watching the swinging squad room door as Kiko made a hasty exit.

“Did you see how red his face was? Wonder what that’s about.” Hutch started after him, but Starsky grabbed his arm.

“He’s fifteen, Big Brother. He can go to the bathroom by himself.”

“Yeah…well,” Hutch replied sheepishly. “I guess you’re right.”

“Is there ever any doubt?” Starsky winked, then pushed Hutch toward the door.

~*~*~*~*~

“Are you hungry?” Hutch asked, as he unlocked the front door.

“A little,” Kiko answered, then amended it to, “very,” when Hutch gave him a doubtful look.

“‘That’s what I thought. Why don’t you and Starsky order the pizza while I grab a quick shower? You want a snack?”

“I want a snack,” Starsky said, just coming in the front door. He was nose deep in a magazine, with the remainder of the mail tucked under his arm.

“I didn’t ask you.” Hutch turned back to Kiko. “Help yourself. There’s some yogurt in the fridge, or you can have some fruit, or—”

“We’ll find something. Go take your shower.” Starsky tossed his magazine, along with the rest of the mail, on the coffee table and dropped down on the sofa. Hutch eyed him suspiciously before leaving the room.

Kiko started for the kitchen but Starsky motioned for him to be still. With the sound of the shower drifting down the hall, Starsky went to the large bookcase where he reached behind a stack of books and pulled out a package of Twinkies. He quietly opened the package and stuffed the cellophane in his pocket. “This is my last one, so we’ll have to share,” Starsky stage whispered.

“Sure, thanks.” Kiko crossed the room in a flash. Just as he reached out for the offered snack cake, Starsky pulled his arm back.

“Where’s my chair?”

Kiko froze, looking every bit like the proverbial deer in the headlights. “W-what chair?”

“My desk chair at the station.”

A nervous look crossed Kiko’s face. “Um…I don’t—”

“What were you helping Dobey with?” Starsky waved one golden treasure in front of Kiko’s face while taking a healthy bite of the other one.

Kiko shrugged. “Just stuff.”

“What kind of stuff?” Starsky took another bite of his cake. Only one bite remained.

Licking his lips, Kiko mumbled something indistinct.

“Did you say something?” Starsky popped the last piece of his cake into his mouth.

“Oh, all right. I was helping him get your stupid chair downstairs.” Kiko reached for the cake, but Starsky withheld it again.

“Not so fast. Where downstairs?”

Kiko’s face was a dark cloud of fury. “Dobey took it down to maintenance and told ’em to get rid of that squeak you like so much.” He snatched the cake from Starsky and took an angry bite.

“My squeak? He’s getting rid of my squeak?” Starsky slowly crossed to the sofa and lowered himself onto it. “Man, that’s low. Do you have any idea how many people hate that squeak?”

“Yeah, and Dobey says he’s tired of everybody complainin’ about it.” Confession complete, Kiko focused on his snack. “You got any milk?”

“Yeah.” Starsky rubbed his stomach. “Think I’ll have some, too.”

By the time Hutch rejoined them, Kiko was at the kitchen table reading a car magazine and finishing off an apple, and Starsky was at the counter eating cold, leftover spaghetti straight from the bowl.

“I’m glad one of you has some sense.” Hutch patted Kiko’s shoulder on his way past. “Did you order the pizza?”

“Yeah, it’ll be here in about 30 minutes.” Starsky lifted a congealed strand of pasta with his fingers, tilted his head back, and dropped it into his mouth.

“For Pete’s sake, Starsk. We’re supposed to be setting an example.” Hutch nodded at Kiko.

“I’m not an example. You’re the example.” Starsky slurped another noodle into his mouth. “I’m the example’s…friend.” He smirked at Hutch, who responded with a withering look before turning back to Kiko.

“You do know this is entirely uncouth, don’t you, Kiko?” Hutch pointed at Starsky, who was going for two strands at once.

Kiko looked up from his magazine, nodded and swiped the back of his hand across his mouth. “Yeah, I know.”

Shaking his head and sighing, Hutch pulled a beer from the refrigerator, then snatched a paper towel from the roller and handed it to Kiko.

“Hey, I got a tip from an anonymous source,” Starsky said. “Dobey’s definitely our guy. Seems he conned some poor schmuck into helping him smuggle my chair down to maintenance.”

“You don’t say.” Hutch paused and glanced over his shoulder before resuming his search through the dish drainer for the bottle opener.

“Yeah, and get this: Dobey told ’em to get the squeak taken out of it. Can you believe that?”

“Now that’s just inhumane.” Hutch pulled a fork out of the dish drainer and dropped it into the spaghetti bowl. “Use this. Please?”

“Oh, all right,” Starsky said with a forlorn sigh. “So what are we going to do about Dobey?”

“I don’t know. We’ll figure something out.” Hutch sank into the chair opposite Kiko. “Tonight is all about Contemporary Literature. Right, pal?”

“Right.” Kiko made a face.

“C’mon, it’s not that bad.” Leaning over, Hutch flipped open Kiko’s book bag, which was propped against a table leg. His hand had just latched onto a book, when Kiko jumped to his feet.

“No, I’ll get it!” Kiko shouted, yanking the bag away from Hutch, then staring in horror as he realized he had the bag, but Hutch still held on to a single item from it.

Starsky’s fork clanked into the bowl. “Playboy?” Plunking the bowl on the counter, he reached for the magazine. “That’s contemporary, all right. You know he had this?”

“No, I didn’t know he had it.” Hutch tossed the magazine on the opposite end of the table, out of Starsky’s reach, and leaned forward. “But I’d sure like to know how he got it. Now.”

Kiko’s face went from pink to white in a matter of seconds. He stared blankly at the car magazine spread out in front of him.

“Where’d you get the magazine, Kiko?” Hutch asked, his voice quiet but firm. “Did someone give it to you?”

No response.

“Buy it for you?”

“I’d answer him if I were you, pal.” Starsky walked around Hutch to pick up the magazine. Leafing through it, he strolled back to his place at the counter.

Hutch dipped his head to meet Kiko’s eyes. “Did you steal it?” he asked softly.

Kiko’s head jerked up. “No!”

“Then how did you get it? That’s all I’m asking.” Hutch held up his hands.

“C’mon, Hutch, don’t tell me you never looked at one of those magazines.” Kiko’s eyes were defiant now.

“No, I won’t tell you that, but I’m an adult. You’re fifteen years old—”

“Almost sixteen!” Kiko interrupted, then seemed to realize it wasn’t much of an argument. He lowered his voice. “Look, does it really matter where I got it?”

“It does to me. You’re a minor. If someone bought that magazine for you, or gave it to you, I need to know about it.”

Kiko’s shoulders slumped in defeat. “It wasn’t nothin’ like that.” He slid down in his chair. “Eddie Mazetti’s old man bailed on them, and we found it in the pile of stuff his Mom threw out on the sidewalk.”

“Oh.” Hutch leaned back in his chair.

“Is this all you found?” Starsky asked, continuing to flip the glossy pages. “Remember, we’ll know if you’re lying.”

Kiko squirmed in his seat. “Yeah, there was just the one magazine.”

“Okay, one magazine. What else was there?” Hutch shifted forward again.

“Nothing, really.” Kiko fidgeted again and fixed his attention on the edge of the table.

“One more time: what else was there?” Hutch’s tone was firmer

“I told you—nothing. Just some books…and a few rubbers.” Kiko shrugged.

Hutch ran a hand across his jaw and looked up at Starsky, who was suddenly fascinated with replacing the foil atop the bowl of spaghetti and returning it to the refrigerator. Hutch turned back to Kiko. “Did you say ‘rubbers’?”

Kiko looked up, surprised. “Yeah, you know, guys put them over—”

“I know what they are. What I don’t know is why you need them.”

“Hutch, I’ll be sixteen in a few months,” Kiko said, as if that explained everything. When it became apparent that it didn’t, he added, “I’m probably gonna be needin’ ’em.”

“Excuse me?” Hutch exploded. “What in the hell does being sixteen have to do with needing condoms?” He reached out to grab Kiko’s shoulder as the boy got up from the table and headed for the hallway door, but Starsky stopped him.

“Let him go,” Starsky said in a low voice.

“But—” Hutch waved his hand at the still-swinging kitchen door.

“Shhh.” Starsky held them both in place until the sound of the television drifted into the room, then he let go of Hutch’s arm. “You need to take a few deep breaths and calm down before you talk to him again.”

“I need to calm down? Did you hear—”

“Sit down, babe.” Starsky pushed Hutch back to his chair and slid his forgotten beer against his hand. “Here, drink some of this.” Starsky got his own beer off the counter and sat down in the chair Kiko had vacated. “Just relax a few minutes, and then go out and talk to him.”

For a moment, Hutch looked like he would continue the argument with Starsky. His eyes flashed angrily below the rapidly deepening crease between his brows, and he even got as far as raising his finger before his shoulders slumped forward and his hand dropped back down to the table. “Why’m I arguing with you?” He took a generous slug of his beer and stared at the closed kitchen door.

“Because you got caught by surprise, that’s why. We both did.” Starsky sipped his beer. “Who’d’ve thought the kid would be thinking about sex? Seems like just yesterday he came running in here to wash Emily Somebody’s cooties off his arm.”

Hutch snorted softly and raised his bottle again, sipping this time and staring into space. “I guess he’s really growing up.”

“Wonder if his mother talked to him, or if he learned everything he knows from his friends?”

Shaking his head, Hutch pushed away from the table. “The fact that he thinks he’s gonna have sex just because he’s sixteen makes me think he’s been listening mostly to his friends.” He took one last swig from his beer and stood up. “Wish me luck.”

“You got it. I’ll be here if you need me.” Starsky opened the Playboy magazine again and propped his feet on the table. “Hey!” he yelped when Hutch snatched the magazine out of his hand and replaced it with Kiko’s abandoned car magazine.

“You’re not old enough for this either.” Hutch looked down at the page Starsky had been viewing and groaned mournfully before closing the magazine and rolling it into a tube. “Make that three of us.”

~*~*~*~*~

The living room was dark except for the soft flickering of the television. A rerun of some black-and-white sitcom Hutch almost recognized played across the screen, and he could just make out the top of Kiko’s head above the back of the sofa.

“Hey,” Hutch said softly and ruffled Kiko’s hair as he passed. Rounding the far end of the sofa and taking a seat there, he frowned when Kiko scrunched as far as possible into the other corner. “What’re you watching, buddy?”

“Beverly Hillbillies,” Kiko mumbled.

“Oh.” Hutch leaned back and switched on a lamp, blinking at the sudden brightness, then resting his arm along the back of the sofa, tossed the magazine onto the cushion between them. “I think we need to talk, my friend.”

“Hu-u-tch,” Kiko groaned. “It’s just a magazine.”

Hutch nodded. “You’re right. It’s how it ties in with some of the other things you said that I want to talk about.”

“Why? You’ll probably just yell again.” Kiko’s eyes darted over to Hutch and then back to the screen. “You never yelled at me before, Hutch.”

“I know, and I’m sorry. I was caught a little off-guard.” Hutch leaned over and held out his hand. “Friends?”

After a few seconds, Kiko reached over and shook his hand. “Friends,” he said with a shaky smile.

“Okay then.” Hutch smiled back at him and squeezed his arm gently. “Now let’s talk about this business of turning sixteen.”

Kiko retreated to his corner. “Do we have to?”

“Yes, we have to. What I’d like to know is where you got the idea that sixteen is some magic number for having sex?” Hutch raised his eyebrows expectantly.

“I dunno…” Kiko lifted one shoulder, barely. “Guys talk, you know.”

Hutch smiled. “Well, you do realize that what guys talk about is often different from what they do, don’t you? Sometimes guys like to make other guys think things are happening that…just aren’t.”

“Look, Hutch, that might be the way it was back in the olden days, but I know for a fact that once a guy has wheels, the girls are more likely to…” Kiko’s voice trailed away when he looked at Hutch. “You know,” he finished lamely.

After several seconds, Hutch cleared his throat and spoke again. “Let’s try this a different way. What do you know about sex? Has your mother talked to you?”

“My mother!” Kiko’s voice went up two octaves. “I’m not talking to her about this stuff. God, Hutch…”

“Well, who have you talked to then? Have you discussed sex with anyone?”

“Sure, my friends and I talk about it all the time.”

Hutch rubbed the bridge of his nose. “I meant any adults, Kiko.”

“Oh.” Kiko thought a moment. “Well, no, not exactly. The gym teacher gave us some pamphlets, though. And Eddie got a couple of his aunt’s Cospomolitan magazines. After that, it wasn’t really hard to put two and two together.”

“Cosmopolitan. It’s Cosmopolitan magazine,” Hutch ground out. A flare of light at the kitchen door caught his attention, and looking over Kiko’s head, he could just make out one eye and a flash of teeth through the crack in the door. Then one arm snaked through the opening and made a palm down motion, Starsky’s version of ‘stay calm’. Hutch took a deep breath. “You can’t learn about this just from reading about it.”

“But you’re always saying if I want to learn about something, I should go to the library and get a book about it.”

“Did you?”

“Did I what?”

“Go to the library and get a book about sex.”

“No!” Kiko was horrified. “Dang, Hutch, what if someone saw me? Besides, these magazines have a lotta useful information in ’em. You should read one sometime.”

Hutch snorted softly and rubbed his brow. “Kiko, what ‘useful information’ could you possibly get from this?” He picked up the Playboy and tossed it into Kiko’s lap.

Kiko pushed the magazine back onto the sofa. “Lots of stuff, the kind of stuff us guys have to worry about.” He lowered his voice. “Like premature ejaclatation and that kind of thing.”

“It’s ejaculation, and I promise you, any ejaculation on your part right now is premature.” Hutch sighed. “Kiko, becoming sexually active is serious. It’s not something you do just because you’re sixteen. It should be about a lot more than that.”

“Like what?”

“Like love and caring and emotional maturity and stability, for starters.”

Kiko thought that over for a moment. “Did you love every girl you’ve had sex with?”

The kitchen door closed with an audible snick, followed by a thump. Hutch glared at it before turning his attention back to Kiko.

“No, I didn’t, to be honest. But I did care about them and knew enough to make sure they were satis—uh, that the experience…that is…look, now that I think about it, I don’t even know if I should really be discussing this with you. Maybe your mother should—”

“I’m not talking about this with her,” Kiko cried. “That’d be too weird. How’m I supposed to ask her questions about this stuff?”

Hutch reached out and squeezed Kiko’s arm. “All right, let me talk to your mom. If she says it’s okay, I’ll talk to you about anything you want.”

“What are you gonna tell her? Does she have to know about this?” Kiko’s eyes dropped to the Playboy..

Hutch shook his head. “No, I don’t think so. But,” he raised a warning finger, “I don’t want you reading these magazines anymore.”

“Okay.” A resigned sigh.

Hutch smiled and looked over Kiko’s head as the kitchen door slowly opened.

“Hutch, can I ask you something?” Kiko looked up hopefully.

The kitchen door closed again. “Sure.”

Kiko studied his hands. “Um, you know that pamphlet they gave us at school? The one about sex?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, um, it said that it was normal for guys my age to…um, get hard a lot.” Even in the dim light, Kiko’s face showed his embarrassment.

“That’s right.” Hutch reached out and rested his hand on the boy’s shoulder.

“What if—I mean, is there a way to make it not do it?”

“I don’t understand.”

Kiko looked up with tortured eyes. “It’s embarrassing sometimes, Hutch. It doesn’t matter where I am, or even if I’m thinking about something else. Like today—” He bit his lip and the blush reached to the roots of his hair.

“What happened today?”

“When that lady came into the squad room. You know the one with the…” Kiko held his hands out from his chest in the universal sign for large breasts.

“Ah, Angela.” Hutch nodded. “Perfectly understandable.”

“All she did was smile at me, and my pecker tried to climb out of my pants right there in the squad room.”

Hutch gave up and laughed out loud. When Kiko looked affronted, Hutch leaned over and tousled his dark hair. “Don’t worry, kiddo. I think Angela has that effect on a lot of guys.”

“Yeah?” A small smile slid across Kiko’s face. “Did you get hard?”

“Uh, no. No.” Hutch sobered, then shrugged when Kiko looked at him in disbelief. “I guess I’m just used to her.”

“Oh. Do you think Starsky did? Man, she was laying all over him.”

Hutch glanced over at the closed kitchen door. “You never know with Starsky.” He changed the subject. “Is that why you made that mad dash out of there when we were ready to go?”

“Yeah. I didn’t know what else to do. I usually just try to find the nearest bathroom.”

Hutch nodded and chewed the corner of his lip again. “Sometimes that’s all a guy can do. I thought you handled it well.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Hutch punched Kiko’s shoulder lightly. “Now, let’s talk about this another time. Tonight’s about Contemporary Literature, right? Why don’t you grab your backpack?”

Kiko sighed and rolled his eyes. “Okay.” He stood up and turned for the kitchen, then did an about-face. “Hutch, can I ask you just one more question?”

“Okay, one more question.”

Kiko found an interesting spot on the back of his hand to explore. “Can you really go blind?”

A beat passed before Hutch understood what Kiko was talking about. He stood up and squeezed Kiko’s shoulders. “No, you will not go blind.” He winked and squeezed again. “As long as you always remember to do your homework first.”

A sheepish smile spread across Kiko’s face and without warning, he threw his arms around Hutch’s midsection. Hutch returned the seldom-allowed hug. The quiet moment was broken when the doorbell rang, and the kitchen door sprang open almost immediately.

“Pizza’s here!” Starsky yelled as he made a fast path for the door.

Kiko looked up at Hutch and smiled. “Good, I’m starving.”

~*~*~*~*~

Starsky was stretched out in bed reading when Hutch returned from taking Kiko home. He let the book drop to his chest and smiled up at his partner. “You get young Romeo home okay?”

“Yeah, he’s home. I should’ve told Mrs. Ramos to lock him in until he’s twenty.” Hutch slipped out of his shoes and slid his holster off his shoulder. After hanging it on the back of the closet door, he eased his shirt over his head. His jeans and socks quickly joined his shirt in a heap on the floor. “Man, I’m beat.”

“You should maybe lie down then.”

Hutch looked over his shoulder and answered Starsky’s smirk with a soft smile of his own. “Maybe.” He feinted turning back to the closet, but then turned again, lurched to the bed and dove, landing half-on, half-off his surprised partner.

The noise Starsky made might have been a grunt of pain or a laugh. “Hey, wanna watch those elbows?”

Hutch paused to glance at the title of Starsky’s book, then tossed it over his shoulder. “I’d rather watch you getting naked.” He hooked his thumbs under the hem of Starsky’s t-shirt and pulled it along as he slid eager hands up his torso.

“Thought you were tired.” Starsky raised his arms and let Hutch pull the shirt over his head, laughing when it went the same way as his book. “What’s the matter? All that talk about sex get your motor started?”

“No, the sight of you horizontal got my motor started.” Hutch leaned down and nuzzled Starsky’s neck, sliding a hand back down to the waistband of his jeans.

Starsky stopped him with a well-placed pinch. “Well, put it in idle for a few until my motor gets warmed up.”

Groaning and rubbing his chest as he slid to Starsky’s side, Hutch warned, “Don’t take too long. My battery runs out earlier than it used to, you know.”

“Not so’s I noticed,” Starsky said with a smile, rolling onto his side and raising up on his elbow. “So did you talk to Mrs. Ramos?”

“Yep. I have been officially asked to discuss—her words—‘the birds and bees with my baby.'” Hutch snorted. “Baby. The kid’s an ox. Did you see how much pizza he—never mind. Look who I’m talking to. You ate just as much as he did.”

“Hey, I’m an active guy. I need fuel.” Starsky patted his stomach. “Besides, I didn’t notice you pushing away from the table early.”

“Yeah, well, you also didn’t see me scarfing down Hostess cupcakes and cold spaghetti before dinner, either.” Hutch grinned smugly at Starsky’s surprised expression. “Oh, you didn’t think I knew about your secret stash, did you? C’mon, Starsk, I’m a detective.”

“Here’s something for you to detect.” Starsky raised his middle finger and began to roll over, but Hutch pulled him back into place

“I thought you wanted to hear about my talk with Kiko’s mother.”

“I do, but then we’re gonna have to talk about a guy’s right to a little privacy around here.” Starsky turned his head to stare at his hip, where Hutch’s hand still rested.

“Okay,” Hutch removed his hand, slowly. “We will, right after we talk about another guy’s right to a healthy, living, breathing partner.” He held up his hand to ward off Starsky’s protest. “Now, where was I? Oh yeah, clearance. I just asked her if she thought it was time for someone to have a serious talk with Kiko about sex.”

“Was she surprised?”

“No, not really. She agreed right away, but she said both times she tried to bring up the subject, he refused to talk about it with her.”

“So she asked you if you would talk to him.”

Hutch nodded. “Besides the awkwardness, there’s another reason she wants someone else to talk to him.”

Starsky looked puzzled. “Like what?”

“Well, like birth control. She’s Catholic, and she wasn’t sure—”

“Now see, that’s something I’ve never been able to figure out. Why does a church have to go messin’ around in people’s sex lives? It’s not like there’s not plenty of other stuff—what?”

“Do you want to hear about this or do you want to discuss something we can’t do anything about?” Hutch asked through gritted teeth.

“We discuss things we can’t do anything about all the time. In fact, I’d say that’s mostly what we do talk about on any given—”

“Starsk.”

“What? Oh.” Starsky grinned, then schooled his face into a mostly serious expression. “Continue.”

“Thank you.” Hutch scratched his eyebrow, thinking. “I forgot where I was again.”

“Mrs. Ramos. Birth control.”

“Oh, yeah. She said that while she wants Kiko to wait until he’s married before having sex,” Hutch held up a hand to ward off the argument, “she knows times are different now, and that a lot of young people don’t wait for marriage.”

“Lot of old people don’t wait for marriage either.” Starsky skimmed a knuckle up and down Hutch’s abdomen. “I figure we’d be waiting thirty or forty years…” A sad smile flitted across his face. He shook his head and the corner of his mouth curled up, just a little. “I’d probably explode somewhere around the twenty-year mark.”

“If you’ll let me,” Hutch captured Starsky’s hand in his and pulled it up to his shoulder, “I could probably make you explode at the 20-minute mark.” He dipped his head slightly to kiss the inside of Starsky’s wrist, while his free hand slid down and over Starsky’s hip.

“Such a romantic,” Starsky muttered, but didn’t resist when Hutch pulled him closer. “How are you supposed to teach Kiko about control when you can’t even—”

“Extenuating circumstances. I’ve got you here, tempting me, taunting me…” Hutch smiled and nipped the pale flesh of Starsky’s forearm. “Provoking me.”

“Some role model,” Starsky chided. “Is that what you plan to tell Kiko? ‘Keep it in your pants, kid. Unless, of course, you run into some extenuating circumstances.'”

Hutch laughed. “Well, if his grades in English are any indication, it’ll take him a few days to find ‘extenuating’ in the dictionary. After that, I’ll throw in a few comments about obligation and duty and commitment—”

“That oughta scare the hell out of him.”

“I’m just hoping it’ll slow him down some. He’s too young.” Hutch shook his head. “Fifteen years old…”

“Almost sixteen. Don’t forget that.”

Hutch laughed. “Oh, yeah…”

“Why’s he in such a hurry to grow up, anyway? Makes you wish you could somehow show him a film clip of what his life will be like twenty years from now. Work, bills, aches and pains—”

“Sex, beer, R-rated movies,” Hutch added. “It’s not all bad. He’s just at an age where he can only see one side of it.” He rolled onto his back with a sigh, punching his pillow up behind his head.

“Maybe so.” Starsky shifted onto his stomach, hugging his pillow beneath him. “So are you gonna talk to him?”

“His mother’s going to talk to him tonight. I guess she’ll tell him it’s okay for us to discuss things whenever he’s ready. It’s up to him after that.”

“You nervous?”

Another shrug. “A little, I guess,” Hutch paused, seeming almost surprised at the admission. “I’m not sure what approach to take. Understanding, big brother?” He held up one hand, palm up. “Or responsible, wise adult?” He raised the other hand, as if balancing his options.

Starsky unfolded one arm to pat Hutch’s shoulder. “You’re a smart guy. You’ll probably figure out a way to do both.”

“I’m not so sure….”

“Hey, I know,” Starsky’s head snapped up and he propped himself on his elbows. “You could practice with me!”

“With you.”

“Sure, why not? We could do it tomorrow night. That’ll give me time to remember some of the questions I had when I was his age.”

Hutch tried, mostly unsuccessfully, to wipe the smile off his face with his thumb. “I don’t know, buddy. That’s a lotta years. Think you can remember back that far?”

“Like it was yesterday. Can’t you?”

“I haven’t really tried, to tell you the truth. From the smile on your face, I’d say your memories are a lot clearer than mine.”

Starsky smiled wider. “Ah, man, summer nights behind the Anderson’s tool shed with Glynda Grohowski. You shoulda seen her, Hutch. Auburn hair, green eyes, gazongas out to here…” He cupped his hands about a foot in front of his chest.

“Out to there, huh? Bet that looked odd on a fifteen year-old girl.”

“Keep in mind that these were fifteen year-old eyes doing the measuring. Besides, Glynda was seventeen.”

“Ah, an older woman.” Hutch nodded in understanding.

“Yeah, older…and wiser in the ways of the world, if you catch my drift.”

“Knew some tricks, did she?”

“Oh yeah, but she was picky as hell. Didn’t share her…wisdom with just anybody.”

“But she shared it with you.”

Starsky beamed. “Yeah, I passed the test.”

“Which was?” Hutch prompted.

“Kissing. If you were a good kisser, Glynda was friendly. Very friendly. But if you weren’t a good kisser, you were outta there in nothin’ flat. No second chances.”

“But you passed.”

Starsky eyed Hutch suspiciously. “You’re not surprised, are you?”

“No, no. I know you’re a good kisser.”

Starsky nodded once, emphatically, then laid his head down on the pillow. “Damn straight,” he murmured.

“So, exactly how far did you get with Glynda-with-the-gazongas-out-to-here?” Hutch’s hands mimicked Starsky’s earlier exaggeration.

“Acceptable, acceptable,” Starsky answered smugly. “For a fifteen-year-old, that is. Glynda mighta been friendly, but she wasn’t easy, if you know what I mean.”

“Surprisingly, I think I do.”

“She liked me so much that by the end of the summer, she was letting me put my hand up her sweater and rub off against her leg.” Eyes closed, Starsky smiled dreamily.

“Serious stuff there. You must have done some remarkably great kissing.”

“Yeah…kissing…and the patented Starskarino Squeeze.”

Hutch choked and raised up on his elbows, coughing. “The WHAT?”

Starsky’s eyes popped open wide. “Oh God.” He turned over and sat up abruptly. “Oh, my God.”

“What? What’s wrong?”

“The Squeeze. I forgot about The Squeeze.”

“Would you please tell me what the hell this squeeze is?”

Starsky shook his head. “I can’t. It’s too horrible.”

“What can be so horrible about something called the ‘Starskarino Squeeze’? Other than the ridiculous name.” Hutch poked Starsky’s arm. “C’mon, give.”

“Okay, Mr. Must Know Everything. You wanna know about the Starskarino Squeeze? Lie back.” Starsky jabbed Hutch’s chest with his finger. When Hutch complied, Starsky quickly shifted over until he straddled Hutch’s hips.

“Ah, now this is more like—”

“Hush, I’m about to show you The Squeeze.” Starsky laced his fingers together, cracked his knuckles and then flexed his hands open and closed. When he was shaking out his fingers, Hutch made a growling noise and tried to sit up. “No, stay there. I’m ready.”

Starsky held up three fingers of each hand, twin Boy Scout salutes, and leaned forward to place them on each of Hutch’s nipples. Using just the pads of his fingertips, he pressed in lightly and moved the skin around in small circles, alternating randomly between moving left and right, and then bringing his thumbs up and capturing each nipple for three quick squeezes before returning to more circles. He’d made it through three cycles of rubbing and squeezing before Hutch’s laughter made it impossible for Starsky to maintain his rhythm.

“That’s the Starskarino Squeeze?” Hutch gasped out when Starsky finally sat back. “For that, Glynda What’s-her-face let you rub off on her leg?” He laughed harder, and then louder when Starsky looked down at his fingers in disgust.

Starsky waited until Hutch had laughed himself out. “Now you know what’s so horrible about it.” He stretched his body out and rested his head on Hutch’s chest.

“Yeah, it’s pretty bad.” Hutch wiped his eyes with the heel of his hand. “But, come on, Starsk. You were only a kid, and you said yourself, Glynda liked it.”

“I guess,” Starsky said doubtfully. “Hard to say now.”

“What ever happened to her?”

“I don’t know, but if I’m lucky I’ll never see her again. Can you imagine how awkward that would be?” Starsky laughed. “‘Course, if she found out about me and you, she’d probably think that’s why I never was any good at tits.”

Hutch wrapped his arms around Starsky’s back. “You do tits just fine, and I should know. My tits have never been happier.”

Starsky smiled and pressed a kiss into Hutch’s chest. “This is why I love you.”

“Why is that?”

“‘Cause here I am at the ripe old age of forty—”

“Almost thirty-nine, really.”

Another kiss and another, higher on Hutch’s chest. “With you, I feel like I’m almost sixteen again.” He took Hutch’s mouth in long, deliberate kiss, groaning when Hutch reached for his hand and pulled it to his nipple. Starsky couldn’t resist one squeeze, but then flattened his palm and used the back and forth, side to side that he knew Hutch liked.

After several minutes, Hutch pulled away, but just barely. “Wanna rub off on my leg?”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

The End

Chapter End Notes:

Written as a Me & Thee list story prompt challenge, which was that the story should include a wrong number, a missing desk chair, and a Playboy magazine. Originally posted as part of the Secret Santa 2007 event.