Everything Old Testament is New Again

Picking Starsky up in the morning was often an adventure in itself. He was either grumpy due to the early hour, riding in Hutch’s beater instead of his beloved Torino, or because he’d rushed out of the shower without a cup of coffee. This frequently set Hutch off until the two were bickering the entire shift. On the other hand, the days Starsky was happy, nothing could darken his mood. Which could elevate Hutch’s spirits no end, especially when the weather forecasted gray clouds and rain for the rest of the week.

Hoping for Starsky’s unbridled enthusiasm, Hutch pulled up beside his partner’s place as a beaming Starsky bounded down the front steps. The weak sun peeking from behind a cloud spotlighted him as if he was an actor on the stage.

It would be a good day.

“Hey.” Starsky ducked his head getting into the car, tossing Hutch a kiss like Bob Eubanks in the Newlywed Game.

Which definitely made it a good day.

Hutch pretended to catch the kiss in his hand and then tuck it into his breast pocket. “You’re in a good mood.” He steered to the cul-de-sac at the end of the narrow, hilly street to make a U-turn.

“Reading a terrific book.” Starsky bounced slightly in his seat. “Stop at Dougie’s Shake Shack. I need a breakfast burrito and giant coffee. Stayed up late reading.”

“Isn’t that the place with the Pineapple Coconut morning shake?” Hutch recalled, turning onto Las Gallinas toward the popular eatery. “A healthy pick-me up.”

“You know that’s just a Pina Colada without the rum?” Starsky snickered.

“It has protein powder and extra vitamin C to power me through the day,” Hutch said righteously.

“No extra E?” Starsky grinned, waggling his eyebrows. “For stamina at night?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Hutch side-eyed him, hanging a left to go into Dougie’s parking lot. “Find out tonight.”

“Plan on it,” Starsky said with his infamous thousand-watt smile.

He raced out of the car once it was parked, heading for the restroom. Hutch waggled his fingers at his departing lover, joining the queue of those seeking breakfast. No need to wait to order until Starsky returned; Hutch knew what he wanted.

Starsky was speedy, though. He made it back in time to put in his own order and flirt with the pretty eighteen-year-old behind the counter. They’d both watched her grow from a shy teen hanging out in her dad’s café before school until she began to work the register.

“And keep the change, schweetheart.” Starsky handed over the cash with a side of Bogie.

“How do you do it, Guilietta?” Hutch asked dryly, elbowing Starsky aside to put in his request. “Deal with customers like him all from 6:30 until 8 and then do so well in school? The Pineapple Coconut shake, with extra protein and vitamin C, please.”

“Planning on a career in diplomacy.” She winked at Starsky, huge gold hoops swinging below her puffy afro. “Have to know how to handle all kinds.”

“She’s gonna be the first female president, mark my words!” Dougie called, handing Starsky’s burrito over the cutout window between the kitchen and front of the café.

“Dad!” Guilietta rolled her eyes, pouring coffee into a to-go cup. She had the pineapple juice and coconut nectar in the blender seconds later.

Sipping his treat, Hutch vowed not to be seduced into any of Starsky’s pleas for snacks from the candy machine. This was far tastier, and better for him, than a Snickers bar. He wrinkled his nose at the smell of Starsky’s scrambled egg, cheese, and chorizo filled burrito. “Make sure you don’t drop any on the seat of the car,” he warned as they climbed in.

“Who could tell?” Starsky took a long pull from his coffee and devoured the burrito in record time.

“So what is this amazing book that kept you up while I was practicing with the jazz band Huggy booked to play a gig at The Pits?” Hutch asked, driving toward Metro.

“In the Biblical Sense.” Starsky slurped coffee with a satisfied burp afterward.

Sucking hard on his straw, Hutch nearly aspirated the creamy mixture. “You’re studying the Bible?” he asked between fits of coughing.

“Nah, it’s a novel. About two soldiers who are doing it.” Starsky mimed a thrusting fist. “Jonathan and David.”

“A gay romance novel?” Hutch stopped for a red light. “Didn’t know there was such a beast.”

“It’s not a romance novel,” Starsky said, clearly scornful of such an idea. “Those don’t have sex, do they?”

“I have no idea. Is this straight porn?”

“Not straight.” Starsky guffawed, slapping his knee.

Merging into traffic, Hutch kept a lookout for Pier 23. He pointed down the road to a warehouse on the docks. For the last couple shifts, he and Starsky had been on a stake-out with several other teams of police, each switching after six hours to avoid the suspects in the warehouse from seeing the same cars there daily.

“Where’d you find this novel?” he asked, spying fellow cops Crelborn and Muscardi’s gray Plymouth slide out of a parking spot across from the warehouse they were watching. Hutch chose another slot about three car lengths from where the Plymouth had been.

“At the laundromat last weekend, but I didn’t have time to dive in until we had that rarest of commodities, a day off yesterday,” Starsky said, slouching down in his seat for the duration. “The owner, Mrs. Pataling, has a little free library there. I left her one of my Zane Greys.”

Hutch fished the binoculars out from the well in the backseat, training them on a couple trucks parked outside Pier 23. Nothing was happening, just as nothing had happened during the other shifts they’d pulled at this location. It was apparent from the reports from other stake-out duos that most of the interesting action occurred at night, but so far, there had been no arrests in the smuggling operation.

“You read the Bible, right?” Starsky asked after a long, quiet period.

Hutch was so startled he dropped the binoculars under the steering wheel. “What does that have to do with any of this?” He had to bend sideways to fumble for the binocs beside his left foot, belatedly connecting the title of the novel to Starsky’s comment. “So this book is about Biblical characters? King David and his good friend Jonathan.”

“No, I mean… This ain’t about King David.” Starsky narrowed his eyes, staring at Hutch speculatively. “I wouldn’t even have thought a thing about it ‘cept in the back, there’s a little addition from the author that she got her idea from a chapter in the Bible. Must be one of those that isn’t from the Torah or other sacred scrolls.”

“Actually, I believe it was.” Hutch smiled slightly, thinking back on all the fire and brimstone sermons his grandfather used to deliver before he retired from the pulpit and took up farming full time. Grandfather Sven, a staunch Presbyterian, would never have veered from his conservative, narrow-minded reading of the Bible, for all that he was a kind and generous man.

It wasn’t until Hutch took Comparative Religions of the World in college that he’d even cracked the Bible. The deeper Professor Lawford led them through different versions of the same events in several religions, and encouraged them to seek out historical references that correlated to Biblical chapters, the more Hutch became interested in the stories. The last class he’d taken at Minnesota University before leaving the state entirely was Lawford’s class on The Bible as Literature.

And discovered David and Jonathan in the book of Samuel.

Long after that class, he’d pick up the Bible now and again, just to read a chapter or two. Usually without any thought of God, more with an interest to dig down deep and learn. When he’d met Starsky, he realized he’d never really had a Jewish friend and had looked over Leviticus and Deuteronomy. After his divorce, Vanessa had taken the few books they’d owned together, leaving him only a tattered copy of the Bible from his Baptism. A little light reading in the evening, generally in Song of Solomon or the gentler Psalms.

He’d even dipped a finger into the exact story Starsky was referring to that time Dobey sequestered the two of them in a hotel room because Alex Drew suspected them of allegedly killing his wife.

The tender verses describing David’s love for Jonathan had done nothing to quell Hutch’s raging hard-on when Starsky was lying between the beds, with a pistol balanced on his flat belly, legs spread wide to display his prominent crotch.

“The guys in your novel, how do they meet?” Hutch asked, eyes on the warehouse again.

“They’re in the Army, and David’s commanding officer is Jonathan’s dad. They’re friends but it isn’t until after David has a date with the old man’s daughter, Mickey, that he and Jonathan talk. Stuff happens, y’know, as it does.”

“Mutual interests, mutual friends,” Hutch nodded. “Fighting together in a war, David kills one of the enemy, he and Jonathan become really good friends… and fall in love.”

“How’d you know?”

“I told you, Starsk, that’s the story of King David.” Hutch watched as two men came out to one of the trucks, opening the cargo doors. “Didn’t you learn about him in the synagogue?”

“He slayed the giant with his widdle slingshot, God chose him to be the King, etc.” Starsky shrugged. “We didn’t go much, and my Bar Mitzvah was in Hebrew.”

“So you didn’t have to read the entire…“ Hutch froze as the two men hauled out four extremely heavy boxes. Long boxes.

Just the right size to be—

“Weapons, rifles,” Starsky finished Hutch’s thought, grabbing the mic hanging below the dash. “Zebra Three to Dispatch, calling Zebra One, and all the other striped Zebras. We got a delivery!”

The taller of the men hefted one of the boxes with both arms, about to carry it into the warehouse A black and white with flashing red lights zoomed onto the dock, startling him. Following behind were three more unmarked cars, Mars lights on their roofs.

The suspect dropped the crate, excelsior packing material and AK-47s slamming to the ground as the cars cut off all escape. His partner, eyes wide in shock, shied away, running directly toward Hutch’s car.

Grinning fiendishly, Starsky pushed open the car door, sending the fleeing suspect to his knees. In seconds, Starsky had his hands cuffed behind his back and had hauled him onto his feet.

“You’re under arrest,” Starsky informed the man, rattling through the Miranda rights so rapidly he could have won some speed talking award. “Care to give me your name?”

“I ain’t giving you squat,” he snarled, baring his teeth.

“Okay, then we’ll call you Squat,” Hutch said, walking around the front of the LTD. He settled a pair of sunglasses on his nose. Despite the overcast skies, the muted sun had an annoying glare. “Smuggling weapons, huh?”

Cops spilled out of the official vehicles, swarming around the entrance to the warehouse. Even if he’d managed to get to the cab of his truck, the taller suspect wouldn’t have been able to drive away. Smythson and Baker, from Metro Robbery, shoved him against the hood of the truck to cuff his wrists.

Peering across the street, Squat clenched his jaw. “Don’t ask me. I just work there.”

“He just works there, Hutch. Huh,” Starsky echoed, chuckling. “Me, too, Squat, I just work here, and I gotta tell you, those are AK-47s.”

Squat narrowed his eyes with a shrug. “Paulie deals with the orders. I just help unload.”

“Paulie does. Starsky, d’you think that might be Paulie De Santo, the brother of Matteo De Santo?” Hutch played along, very, very happy. This was fun, and there hadn’t been a single gunshot or punch in the face.

Which made it very good day, indeed.

Might even get a commendation out of this for keeping so many illegal weapons off the street. “Smythson!” he called over to his colleague. “Squat here says Paulie De Santo ordered the guns.”

“Whadda ya think about that?” Smythson ran the thumb and pinkie of his right hand down his old West style handlebar mustache. He nudged his cuffed prisoner. “You agree with him, Paulie?”

“Ask Matteo,” Paulie groused, jutting his chin toward the warehouse. “We ain’t taking the fall alone.”

Starsky laughed with delight. He marched his arrestee toward the paddy wagon slowly driving between the haphazardly parked cars.

Other cops were converging on the warehouse, announcing their presence before barreling inside.

Hutch hunched down to grab the mic off the dash of his car to radio their status. He was quite content to sit on the sidelines if it meant that he and Starsky remained uninjured.

He had plans for this very good day.

~~**~~

Despite the quick arrest of two major players, and half a dozen minions, of the De Santo crime syndicate, paperwork and the minutiae of bureaucracy took up a major part of the shift. Dobey even ordered in a plate of cold cuts and condiments with a basket of soft rolls for lunch to congratulate the efforts of the Zebra department.

After his sandwich, Starsky ate two Hershey bars while tapping out his half of the arrest report. Hutch watched him, wishing he could latch onto those chocolately lips. Wasn’t so much that he wanted the candy; Starsky’s kisses were sweet enough on their own, but flavored with chocolate put kissing him in a whole different stratosphere.

Starsky glanced up at him over the top of his typewriter, blue eyes twinkling with promise. He sucked in the last square of Hershey, pink tongue flicking out to whisk a smear off his bottom lip. “You finished yet?” he asked in a husky tone that sent shivers into Hutch’s belly.

“Another few items to add in,” Hutch said, going back to his neglected report. Typing quickly, he shot a look at the clock on the wall—they were well past time to clock out.

“I need more food,” Starsky announced, ripping paper from his typewriter. “Bologna and a slice of processed American cheese are good for the short haul but—“

“Why am I not surprised?” Hutch laughed.

“I do have another candy bar, for much later.” Starsky winked, pocketing a third Hershey’s.

Hutch’s mouth watered at the thought of chocolate flavored Starsky, and shoved his paperwork into the completed pile. “My place, then. I’ve got an old Bible and I can read you a passage from first Samuel.”

Starsky’s eyes widened. “David and Jonathan?” he guessed.

“You two finished with those?” Dobey came out of his office, clearly grumpy at the delay in his dinner.

“There you go, Cap’n,” Starsky declared, placing his directly in Dobey’s hands.

“Did I hear you say something about Bible study?” Dobey grinned, joy spreading across his face. “First Samuel’s a great chapter—all the intrigue and battles.”

“S-sure,” Hutch stammered, flummoxed. His heart flipped into triple digit beats and he was sure he was turning beet red. “King David and King Saul.” He couldn’t look Starsky in the eye, well aware that his partner was about to burst out in high pitched giggles in front of their superior.

“Good idea after a long day. I think I may do some reading with Edith, too.” Dobey patted Starsky’s arm as he passed by, the idea that they would be reading the Lord’s book after a mammoth day at work obviously changing his mood completely.

Starsky waited about two seconds before grabbing Hutch and hurtling him out the door toward the front of the building, his mouth jammed shut and cheeks puffing out as if he were holding in a huge guffaw. All Hutch could do was race walk beside him, the humiliation giving way to sheepish amusement. Was he ever glad Dobey had parked in the garage area and not by the curb like he had.

Hilarity bubbled out of the both of them by the time they reached the lobby. Starsky was laughing so hard he couldn’t breathe. He slid down the wall, hiding his face against his bent knees, giggling helplessly. Hutch laughed until he was light-headed with tears running down his face.

“Ya think—“ Starsky snickered, hiccuping. “You think Dobey and Edith have the same kinda plans for their Bible study that we do?”

“Bite your tongue!” Hutch said sharply. Now he would never be able to get that image out of his brain. “They pray.”

“I’ve been known t’talk to God.” Starsky held out a hand to Hutch so he could be hauled off the floor. “And he brought me a six foot blond with a fondness for burgers topped with bleu cheese and Thousand Island dressing.”

~~**~~

Heavy rain had started in earnest by the time Hutch piloted the LTD away from Metro. The windshield wipers could barely keep up with the deluge, which made driving complicated, especially when Starsky put his hand on Hutch’s thigh. His palm, even through rain dampened khaki, felt as hot as a brand.

“Wait until we get home!” Hutch hissed, arousal snaking up his spine.

“I’m hungry…” Starsky insisted, dipping his fingers lower.

In the interest of health, Hutch decided to forgo a fatty burger with bleu cheese and dressing, stopping at Taco of Morocco, Starsky’s new favorite place. It featured all sorts of Mediterranean food, from falafel (aka the taco of Morocco) to shawarma, gyros, and tabouli.

The moment they got to Venice Place, Starsky shook the rain out of his curls in a flurry of drops, claiming a ladder-back chair at the table. He dug into the take-out bag for the food. “Man, this is what heaven must taste like.” Starsky dipped a piece of fried pita into hummus, eyes closed as he crunched his treat.

“Leave some for me.” Hutch followed suit, savoring the combined textures of crunchy and creamy smoothness. It was delicious, and probably far less fattening than the equivalent French fries. He unwrapped his falafel in pita with tangy tahini sauce, taking a satisfying bite before turning to his bookcase to find the Bible.

Starsky had shawarma, the meat nestled inside a pita with a pickle. He chewed lustily, alternating between seasoned lamb and fried pita chips.

“Let’s see,” Hutch said to himself, munching another chip. “Where would it be…?” His books were piled haphazardly, with no rhyme or reason to the placement, certainly not alphabetical.

“There.” Starsky stabbed the toe of his Adidas clad foot at the lower shelf.

Sure enough, snugged against an ancient copy of Los Angeles on Five Dollars a Day, which was no longer remotely possible in Hutch’s estimation, and Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance, was the tattered Bible his grandfather had signed at young Kenneth’s baptism.

“How did you see that?” Hutch groused good-naturedly, tucking it under his shoulder so he could liberate two beers from their six-pack carrier. He found that the Good Book went down much easier with an alcoholic beverage.

“King David and Jonathan,” Starsky reminded.

“I know, I know.” Hutch flipped to First Samuel, surprised how much he recalled from the long ago The Bible as Literature class and his occasional dip into the Old Testament on quiet evenings. “The characters in your romance novel—“

“Not a romance novel,” Starsky retorted, drinking Corona.

“Met in the Army and got together because David had a date with…”

“Jonathan’s sister Mickey.” Starsky scooched his chair closer to the mismatched green ladder-back Hutch was sitting in so that he could peer at the small print in the Bible.

“Her real name is Michal,” Hutch explained, expecting Starsky to say that it was a boy’s name, as every other person did first reading this story.

“Like the actress Michael Learned on the Waltons.” He nodded, sucking on the neck of the beer bottle in a most distracting manner.

Hutch hitched a breath, searching for the relevant verse. A couple bites of falafel and a few more chips in hummus helped him concentrate and ignore the pheromones wafting from his partner.

“She and David get married, and seem to have a perfect marriage, although Jonathan is always around.” Hutch tapped a finger at chapter 18, verse 1. “—that the soul of Jonathan was knit to the soul of David, and Jonathan loved him as his own soul.”

“Wow.” Starsky grabbed the book out of Hutch’s hands, perusing the verse. “Never heard that in sixth grade Hebrew studies.” Hummus dripped off his pita chip onto the page and he wiped it clean with a Taco of Morocco napkin. Running his finger down the page, he read silently for a few moments before flipping the page.

“Skimming for Jonathan’s name or did you take an Evelyn Wood speed-reading course when I wasn’t looking?” Hutch chuckled, finishing his dinner.

“Both,” Starsky said absently. “Really did take Evelyn Wood before the academy. Here we go, after ol’ Saul tries to kill David, he tries to get even.”

“Yes.” Hutch was impressed how much of the story he’d gleaned in such a short time. He pointed to another verse later in the same scene. “Try that one and then, if I recall, there’s one more—“

“And they kissed one another,” Starsky read with a sound of awe. He stared up at Hutch, mouth open. “I thought the Bible condemned gays.”

“Just gotta know where to look.” Hutch took the opportunity to kiss that lovely mouth. Starsky responded enthusiastically, closing his lips around Hutch’s tongue. It was a messy kiss, seasoned with beer, hummus, and sour pickle, but that just made it all the more fun.

“Mmm.” Starsky leaned forward to get more of Hutch, nipping at his lower lip before another suctioning kiss that took Hutch’s breath away. The Bible ended up on the floor with a plop, pages splayed out like angel’s wings.

“One more passage, one more,” Hutch promised, bending to scoop up the book. He grabbed his partner’s hand, both of them heading for the bed. “For the full effect.”

“You better make it fast,” Starsky warned, leveling a very good impression of a Hutch finger at him. He flipped his slightly damp blue Henley over his head, tossing it onto the foot of the bed. “I got an agenda here.”

Half watching the striptease, Hutch turned to the end of First Samuel. It wasn’t so much that he’d memorized parts of Jonathan and David, more that he remembered Professor Lawford explaining that many books of the Bible were the same events told in different ways. Second Samuel begins with David learning that his father-in-law Saul and Jonathan were both dead. “This part’s sad, but beautiful, all the same,” Hutch said, handing the Bible over to a very naked Starsky.

“Jonathan…” Starsky read softly, eyeing Hutch as he unbuckled his trousers. “thy love to me was wonderful, passing the love of women.”

“Both of us.” Hutch stared into Starsky’s astonishingly blue eyes, almost forgetting to finish unbuttoning his shirt, “have had girlfriends. Women we’d have married.”

Starsky nodded, pushing the Bible aside to get Hutch’s arms out of his sleeves. “Terry, Gillian…”

“Even Vanessa,” Hutch admitted. “I did have deep feelings for her. But Starsk, with you—“ He touched his lover’s chest, feeling that steadfast heart beating against his palm. “My love for you surpasses all of them.” He ran his fingers over Starsky’s breast and collarbones, thumbing the soft, slightly bristly side of his jaw.

“Damn, Hutch, no contest. You’re the gold medal.” Starsky raised up enough to straddle Hutch’s thighs, parting Hutch’s fly to dip into the slit in his boxers for the eager penis. “Love you more’n…” He shrugged, face all dreamy and soft as if he were lost in a wonderful fantasy.

Hutch leaned on his elbows to give Starsky space, inhaling when Starsky drew his tongue down the length of Hutch’s cock. He could work miracles with his talented mouth, infuse Hutch’s entire being with magic, sending him to the moon and back in a matter of moments. It was transcendent. Made Hutch truly believe in angels and the power of love. He coasted on the wave of arousal, climaxing hard when Starsky pumped his sac while sucking on the head of his penis.

“Like that?” Starsky asked a trifle smugly when Hutch opened his eyes.

“Not bad, not bad,” Hutch said flippantly. He was on his left side, facing his partner. Wasn’t at all difficult to push Starsky gently onto his back and crawl up to straddle his knees.

“Let’s see what you can do,” Starsky challenged from his vulnerable position. He raised his hands to pillow them under his head.

“Is this a contest or…” Hutch kissed Starsky at the base of his erect cock, cupping his scrotum, and rubbing very gently, “a seduction?”

“Uhhh…” With the combined simulation on his cock and balls, Starsky seemed utterly unable to speak coherently. He panted, a slight shine across his forehead proving the energy he was expending without moving a muscle.

Hutch grinned, caressing Starsky’s furry thighs and mouthing his cock. Starsky shuddered with a low moan, spurring Hutch’s actions. A slight nip of the teeth, a huffed breath across moist flesh, a small twist of gonads, and Starsky shot his load with a loud shout.

Hutch gathered his partner into his chest, pulling the bedspread over them both. This was reaffirming. This was life—and as with so many other things in this world, it occurred over and over again throughout the ages. Lying with another man was often condemned but it was as old as time: Then Jonathan made a covenant with David, because he loved him as his own soul.

“Hey.” He nudged a very sleepy Starsky, waiting until those blue eyes were trained on him. “When you’re finished, I want to borrow that book.”

“Not a romance.” Starsky kissed him sweetly, totally belying his own words.

Fin

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Chapter End Notes: Biblical Quotations: 1 Samuel 18:1, 3
1 Samuel 20: 41
2 Samuel 1: 25-27