Building A Home

Now that Starsky is home from the hospital, will Hutch admit to his partner his change of feelings?

Part of the “Wedges and Glue” series. Sequel to Tearing Down the Walls.

Hutch watched his sleeping partner adjust himself uncomfortably in his own bed.

This was only Starsky’s second day at home and he was still acclimating his healing body to the less firm and wider mattress than what he was accustomed to after a month long stay in the hospital.

Against Starsky’s protest, Hutch had moved himself into his best friend’s apartment; along with a few of his plants, most of his clothes, and his guitar. The ill man could barely traverse the steps to his apartment, but wouldn’t hear of going to a rehab center and Hutch couldn’t find a small bungalow to rent on both their reduced salaries and still keep both apartments.

A cot had been installed in the living room as Hutch’s back couldn’t handle a prolonged stay on the couch. However, he hadn’t used it yet, and it stood empty and unmade along the wall that abutted the hallway toward Starsky’s bed and bath rooms.

Last night Hutch stayed with Starsky in his bed to comfort and ease his transition, before going to the living room once the healing man was asleep, to read and eventually fall asleep on the lounger.

So far tonight – other than the discomfort from his surgical wounds – Starsky seemed to be sleeping restfully. So Hutch reluctantly backed out of the bedroom to attempt some sleep on the tiny cot.

He needed to get some rest tonight. He doubted he’d be able to catch a nap tomorrow. Even though he was on leave for two weeks, Hutch didn’t trust himself to nap in case Starsky needed him. And working on the Gunther case during the day, while visiting the hospital in the evening, had taken it’s toll on him. His 37-year old body was running on empty. Dobey told him the two week leave was as much for Hutch to heal and get back on his feet, as they were for making sure Starsky was settled and adjusting.

But Hutch couldn’t relax. He told himself he needed to be on guard for Starsky. Now that Starsky’s mother had gone home and his aunt and uncle on their previously scheduled vacation – which Starsky insisted they not cancel – the invalid didn’t have anyone else to watch over him during this difficult time.

But it was a job Hutch would gladly undertake.

Not only was it his job to watch over his partner’s mental and physical health, but it was a responsibility he accepted without reservation once he acknowledged his feelings toward Starsky.

Love is taking care of the one you love. Hutch was reminded of those characters in the daily funnies Starsky read.

He longed to tell Starsky those words when his friend asked why he was putting his own life on hold to care for “a useless partner, a grouchy invalid”, as Starsky called himself.

Knowing that was not the time to proclaim his love, Hutch just calmly stated to his partner “I want to” with a tone that brooked no argument. Starsky had sighed, giving up, not in any mood to argue with anyone.

Besides, Hutch didn’t know if Starsky still felt the same about him.

Wouldn’t it be ironic if now that Hutch loved his best friend with all his soul, that Starsky’s feeling had changed?

And Hutch didn’t want to put that on his friend right now. Starsky had enough to deal with. There would be time to talk about their feelings later; now that they had a later.

Forcibly willing all thoughts from his mind, Hutch settled into an uneasy sleep on the stiff, thin cot.

Sometime later he woke up, not knowing why. His eyes adjusted and he realized that it was still the middle of the night, since the light from the bathroom played shadows with the pictures on the wall and other objects in the darkness of the apartment.

“Starsky!” Hutch sat up abruptly, wiped the sleep from his eyes, and almost tripped in the tangle of covers wrapped around his legs.

Stumbling awkwardly to gain his footing, Hutch reached Starsky’s bedroom with just a few long strides. He couldn’t see his partner in the darkness, but the sound of whimpering in the night silence loudly broadcast Starsky’s need.

“H..u..tch…” The pain filled voice reverberated from the figure in bed. Hutch was at his partner’s side before the sound reached the doorway.

“I’m here Starsk. Right here.” He righted Starsky from the painful position – his damaged right side was bearing all his weight – and tucked Starsky against his torso. Soothing away the pain with long strokes down Starsky’s arm. “You want some pain killer? I think it’s past time.”

The dark head against his chest shook slightly. “No. You. Just you.”

So Hutch let love comfort his friend until both fell into a more relaxed sleep.

Morning brought more stiffness to Starsky from the position he lay in, in Hutch’s arms all night. However he gladly exchanged the discomfort of morning for the safety and security of Hutch and a restful night.

Hutch felt the same. His back was sore from sleeping in a half-raised position, but his sleep was uninterrupted and peaceful.

That morning began Starsky’s routine of physical therapy for his body and psychological therapy for his mind.

Hutch would drive him and leave him to do some shopping or take care of his own apartment; then pick up an exhausted Starsky after several hours, tuck him in for a nap, and take care of cleaning, paying bills, or relaxing with a book.

After several nights of Starsky waking up needing his partner’s presence to go back to sleep, Hutch finally made the suggestion to Starsky that they sleep in the same bed.

“I know you’re not keen on the idea Starsk, but I think me sleeping with you will be better for the both of us.”

“How’s that?”

“You’ve got to have uninterrupted sleep to heal, and I need it just to feel human. I’ll be going back to work in a week and I need my wits about me.” Hutch hated playing this card, but he needed his sleep and there was no way he was going to let anyone else take care of Starsky instead of him.

Starsky’s eyes dropped. “I’m sorry, Hutch. I don’t mean to be such a pain. You can…you don’t have to stay, you know.”

“Starsky, look at me.” Hutch lifted his chin so the darker blue eyes faced his own. “I want to.” He stated simply.

“Anything I can do to make this easier for you, Starsk, just ask me. You know I’d do everything in my power to help you.”

“But what about…”

“About what, Starsky? This is about you getting some healing rest and me getting some much needed sleep. Nothing else.”

Starsky hung his head down. “You’re not…you know, afraid I’ll try something?” He grimaced a little “Well, it’s not like I have the energy to make a pass at ya. Nothing to worry about on that end.”

“Starsky, that didn’t even cross my mind.” He gently told his tired partner. “All I care about is us getting some sleep.”

Smiling up at his partner shyly and tiredly, Starsky admitted that it was nice to be held in Hutch’s arms. “I mean, before when I was sick, I always felt the most comfortable when it was you takin’ care of me.”

Reaching out to ruffle the dark curls, Hutch grinned back. “Good. Now let me get your pills and you get to sleep. I’ll be in after awhile.”

Starsky snuggled down under the light blue blanket and darker sheets. He was almost asleep in the few moments it took Hutch to go out into the kitchen to get some apple juice and his medication.

There was no need for Hutch to stay with Starsky until he was sleeping restfully, so the taller, also tired detective went out into the living room to take down the cot and fold up the blankets and sheet. He was too tired to indulge in any television or books, so after taking care of personal business in the bathroom, he gently settled his long body next to Starsky’s smaller, tauter one.

And the only time Starsky woke up that night and nights going forward, was when his stiff muscles and pulling incisions began to protest their prone position. Hutch would wake up immediately upon hearing the groans and heavy breathing of his still slumbering partner, then wake Starsky up, feed him some pain medication, and rub his shoulders until it took affect and the curly haired man was swept away on a dreamless wave of sleep.

For Hutch being able to sleep with Starsky snuggled next to him was soothing. He could let down his guard a bit, and wrap the one who held his heart within his arms and his soul. There was nothing sexual about it. Just one person showing his love to another.

To Starsky, on the other hand, it was torture. He had what he always wanted right there beside him, and he didn’t have the desire – physical or mental – to do anything about it.

To finally be able to sleep with your arms around me, and not feel anything but soreness and fatigue is killing me, babe.

It took Starsky a long time to fall asleep, though he was sure he was doing a great job at faking it to Hutch by the way the big blond beside him fell asleep so easily.

******

And as Starsky’s body began to heal, his desire for his sleeping partner began to grow. He was getting ever more worried about his body’s response to the closeness of Hutch’s warmth and love, and Hutch’s reaction to that response.

While this past month he had made great strides in his recovery, Starsky still was reluctant to stay alone and didn’t want to push Hutch away by making accidental advances.

So Starsky waded through the nights as if on a raft in the middle of rapids, and the days waiting at the edge of the ocean for the tide to retreat and leave him standing dry and alone.

Unbeknownst to Starsky, Hutch was aware of the implications of sleeping next to his healing and desirous partner. Several times he’d awaken with Starsky’s legs draped over his, or a dark forehead nestled against his back.

But Hutch felt he couldn’t open up and tell Starsky his changed feelings toward him. He’s still healing emotionally. I can’t lay that on him, too.

Until the night two months after Starsky came home from the hospital.

Soft moans woke Hutch from the deep sleep he needed after a hard, physical day at work. Mentally wiping the wisps of a headache from his mind, Hutch started to sit up and looked over at Starsky lying next to him.

Head tossing lightly, Starsky was lying on his back. His face appeared flushed and gleamed in the darkness. The light sheet had been pulled down and away from Starsky’s bare torso and Hutch watched as Starsky’s hands moved lightly and slowly up and down his furred chest and abdomen. The bow shaped mouth was moving and Hutch could make out a few of the breathless words.

“Want you…touch me…Hutch…Hutch, babe…love you.”

As Starsky’s hand slowly drew down to his light cotton pajama pants, Hutch’s gaze followed. His eyes widened in amazement at the visible bulge as Starsky’s expressive fingers touched his groin in hunger and desire.

When he felt a corresponding response in his own groin, Hutch knew the time to talk to his partner had come. He couldn’t take the chance that Starsky would discover Hutch’s body’s answering call. Starsky would be hurt to know that Hutch had held that part of himself back from his best friend.

But when? And how?

He didn’t want Starsky thinking that the only reason he changed his mind was because Starsky almost died.

Too soon and it might throw Starsky’s emotional and physical recovery back. Hutch didn’t want to jump the gun. But if he took too much time and Starsky would think Hutch had been hiding from, and lying to him.

We don’t have to act on our feelings yet, though, do we? There’s no rule that says once you admit to another person your feelings, you have to jump into sex. I can tell him, but explain that I want to take it slow.

After several nights of tossing and turning, winding ideas through his head, Hutch came up with what he hoped was the perfect way to tell his best friend what he was feeling.

He set his plan in motion for the next evening.

Pulling the prepared broccoli quiche out of the freezer and popping it into the oven, Hutch set up the table with linen placemats, tapered candles, and a centerpiece of dried flowers that had been given to Starsky as a gift from a former girlfriend. For desert he had prepared a strawberry Jell-O and banana mold in brandy snifters.

He hurriedly took a shower and put on his forest green pullover and a pair of soft beige corduroys; his white blond hair freshly damp and curling up at the tips made his face look softer and younger than it had in months.

Coming home from his meeting with his psychologist, Starsky took in the amber hues in the kitchen as the sun was setting, as Hutch leaned over the table to light the candles. He raised a single eyebrow toward his best friend in curiosity, not realizing he’d gotten that trait from his partner, but otherwise didn’t say anything.

Dinner consisted of quiet conversation. Mostly Hutch trying to get Starsky to open up on how his meetings with the psychologist were going. He tried to play it off that he wanted to make sure Starsky would be ready, emotionally, to go back on the streets when the time came; but was really trying to convince himself that his partner’s emotional state was stable enough to handle the news that Hutch was going to throw out later that evening.

Then Starsky threw him a curveball. “So what’s going on here, Hutch?” He waved his hands above the table as Hutch spooned some whipped cream onto Starsky’s Jell-O. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were trying to seduce me.”

Hutch fell into his chair, covering his actions as if he was sitting down normally. “What makes you say that?”

“Candles, soft music, good eats. My favorite Jell-O. And whipped cream on top. Next thing I’m expecting is you singing some sappy love song to me.” He laughed bitterly, remembering the line that had been drawn in their relationship months before his shooting.

Setting his spoon down, Hutch sighed. This is it. Better to deal with it now. “Actually I was.” He led Starsky up gently by the hand and sat him down on his davenport. While Starsky watched, eyes staring, Hutch went into the hallway closet and pulled out his guitar; then sat down across from Starsky on the coffee table and began to sing.

Hey, have you ever tried

Really reaching out for the other side?

I may be climbing on rainbows, but baby here goes.

Dreams, they’re for those who sleep.

Life is for us to keep.

And if you’re wondering what this song is leading to

I want to make it with you.

Life can be short or long, love can be right or wrong.

And if I choose the one I’d like to help me through

I’d like to make it with you.

Baby, you know that, dreams they’re for those who sleep.

Life is for us to keep.

And if I choose the one I’d like to help me through

I’d like to make it with you.

As Hutch sang, Starsky at first paid little attention to the words, but rather just watched his friend and his body language. Every movement – the tilt of his head, the soft stroking of the guitar, the hypnotic way Hutch’s fingers moved across the chords – told Starsky the man before him was in love. In love with him.

Starsky wondered if maybe his heart had stopped and he was dead. Or was he dreaming? Still he was slightly hesitant, wanting to make sure he understood exactly what it was Hutch was trying to say.

When Hutch began to sing the last verse, Starsky shook off his lethargy and leaned over and placed his hand on the one holding the neck of the guitar. “Hutch.” He whispered softly, drawing the other man’s eyes up to his own and looking deeply into their suddenly shy blueness.

“Are you trying to tell me that you…you love me? That you, uh…want me?”

“No, Starsk, I’ve always loved you. Now it goes beyond that.”

“Then tell me, babe. I want to hear it in your own words. The song’s nice and all, but they ain’t your words, Hutch.”

The blond head dipped downward, whether in embarrassment or frustration, Starsky couldn’t tell. But he wasn’t going to push Hutch. Neither was he going to put words in his mouth. He wanted Hutch to tell him, himself. And if he couldn’t…well Starsky would have to work it out of Hutch. But Hutch needed to open up and own his feelings so there’d be no misunderstanding about what they were about to embark on.

The guitar was laid aside as Hutch held Starsky’s hand back. “I’ve been thinking of us. Of you. How it bothers me when I think of someone else being first in your life.” He shrugged and looked down. “I guess you could call it jealousy.”

“What else, Hutch?” Tell me babe. Tell me what I want to hear. I want to know how much you want to touch me; you want me to touch you.

“I want…” He looked up at the intense blue eyes before him. “I want to hold you. To kiss you. To make you feel good.”

Starsky wanted to push it all the way. “Hold me how? As a friend? As a nursemaid? A lover?”

Hutch took a deep breath. This is it. Time to see if there are any repercussions for holding my feelings from him. “A…a lover.” His friend’s eyes gave nothing away. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize how much I wanted everything that goes with loving you until the hit. You have every right to have second thoughts.”

Instead of scolding Hutch for holding back or not acknowledging his feelings previously, Starsky let his hand slip up to Hutch’s cheek and held him still while he leaned off the couch and gave him a gentle, yet passionate kiss, without waiting for an answering call. “No second thoughts, babe. But I will take seconds on that.”

Without waiting for Hutch’s reply, Starsky bent in again, this time his lips demanding that Hutch respond. His lips parting slightly to control Hutch’s.

Starsky had waited a long time for this, and he wasn’t going to let Hutch back down now. No way is he using my recovery as an excuse. I’ve got him now, and I’m not letting go.

Only a need to breathe would release each other from the melding of lips. For both men, that need came too soon and they separated, Starsky pitching backward as they looked straight into each other’s darkening eyes.

Finally, he broke the silence. “What are you sitting over there for? Get you ass on this couch so we can neck in comfort. I’ve been wanting this for so long and I don’t intend to spend one moment without your delectable lips all over mine.”

The laughter burst from Hutch as he let go of his worries. He settled next to Starsky and didn’t worry about where tonight or tomorrow would take them. As long as they went on their journey of discovery together.