Gift Wrapped Christmas

Just thought that I would post my little offering for the Starsky and Hutch Advent Calendar for those who may have missed it.

This story was inspired by the Christmas card that Nicol Tyler sent out last year. Thank you, Nicol.

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“Huuutch, wake up.”

The teeth in Hutch’s head rattled with Starsky’s incessant shaking.

Starsky had stayed over after the big Christmas Eve party at Huggy’s because Hutch’s apartment was closer to The Pits than Starsky’s was.

Hutch groggily opened his eyes and looked at the bedside clock. “Starsk. It’s five-thirty on Christmas Day. Can’t I at least lie in once a year?” Starsky was worse than a child at Christmas.

Starsky bounced on Hutch’s bed. “I waited until five-thirty,” he said seriously. “Coffee’s ready. I’ll pour us each a mug and we can start on the presents.”

Hutch got out of bed, put on his bathrobe and walked into the living room.

Starsky had deposited two steaming mugs of coffee on the coffee table and was sitting crossed legged in front of the huge pine Christmas tree. The tree was a recent addition. Starsky had brought the evergreen over yesterday morning and spent at least three hours decorating the branches. Starsky had finished his transformation of Hutch’s place by putting Christmas fairy lights on the partition screen and piling an obscene amount of brightly wrapped gifts under the tree.

“Come on,” Starsky said excitedly. “We can open a couple of presents each and take the rest to the Dobeys.” He picked his way through the pile. “Hey.” He looked at Hutch scowling. “Where are all the other presents?”

“Everything is just the way you left it,” Hutch said, feigning innocence. Starsky was obviously only looking for presents labeled ‘ from Hutch’. “I don’t know what you mean,” he added, shrugging his shoulders.

“Exactly,” Starsky said. “Everything’s just as I left it. Nothing’s been added.” He glared pointedly at Hutch.

“I think you are a little too old to believe Santa was going to come last night, aren’t you?” Hutch teased.

“You know what I mean.” Starsky stood up and grabbed his coffee. “You were supposed to add your presents to mine.” He peered at Hutch over the rim of the mug.

Hutch sighed. “We go through this every year, buddy. You know I don’t do Christmas. All the commercialism leaves me cold.” He snagged his mug, taking a long drink and using the mug to hide his smirk.

“Yes, I know,” Starsky said. “And every year you give in, eventually.” He grinned knowingly. “Where have you hidden them?”

Hutch struggled to keep the smile off of his face. “Nowhere. I decided that this year I wouldn’t give in to you and do the usual last minute shopping. I donated the money to a children’s charity in the name of whoever the gift would have been given to.”

Starsky’s face creased in disbelief. “You’re pulling my leg!”

Hutch sunk to his knees and pulled at Starsky’s jeans bottoms. “Now I am.” Hutch grinned up at Starsky.

Starsky kicked out his right foot. “Get off.” He banged his mug on the table. “Stop messing around. Where’d you put the presents?” he said slowly.

Hutch went over to his writing desk and pulled out a piece of paper. “Receipt from the charity thanking me for my donation.” He handed it to Starsky.

Starsky looked at the receipt for a few quiet minutes before handing it back. “Still don’t believe you. You wouldn’t go over to the Dobeys’ without presents for everyone.”

“I thought I could add my name to yours,” Hutch said, trying to keep a poker face.

“A…you…” Starsky sputtered. He pointed at Hutch. “I saw that sly smile. You’re putting me on.”

“Nope.” Hutch spun around as Starsky barged past him into the bedroom.

Starsky returned carrying a handful of brightly colored ties.

“What are you doing with my old ties?” Hutch asked. He kept meaning to take those things to the thrift shop.

Starsky dragged a wooden kitchen chair into the middle of the room. “I’m gonna make you tell me the truth.”

He had an idea what Starsky was up to. The question was how far would Starsky go? “I am telling you the truth.” Hutch could no longer keep the smirk off of his face.

Starsky indicated to the chair. “Sit. We’re gonna play a little game.”

Hutch sat on the chair.

Standing to one side, Starsky said, “Tell me where you have hidden the loot.”

Hutch shook his head. “I can’t tell you when there’s nothing hidden.” Before he realized that Starsky had moved, his arms were yanked behind him and his wrists tied securely around the chair back. He tested the bonds. Starsky obviously meant business; there wasn’t much play in the bindings.

Starsky knelt in front of Hutch. “The rules of this game are that you tell me a room and if I don’t find any presents in that room, I tie another part of your body. Do you understand?”

Hutch laughed. “Perfectly.” It was certainly a different way to spend Christmas morning. And he did love goading Starsky about his boyish love of a holiday that Starsky’s religion didn’t even celebrate.

“First room?” Starsky demanded, jumping up and dancing on the balls of his feet.

“Bathroom,” Hutch offered.

Starsky ran in there.

Hutch listened to the sounds of Starsky emptying the cupboard under the sink. The creak of the laundry basket lid meant that Starsky was delving into the dirty clothes.

A whirlwind dashed passed Hutch and rummaged under the kitchen sink, before rushing back into the bathroom.

“Don’t go unscrewing anything. There’s nothing in there.” A thud told Hutch that his warning had come too late.

“I can see that,” Starsky said, walking out of the bathroom. He squatted at Hutch’s feet and used a pink and black striped tie to lash Hutch’s ankles together. He grinned at Hutch. “Give in?”

Hutch snickered. “Can’t,” he said simply. He was enjoying this far too much to stop just yet.

“Next room,” Starsky said, tugging the knot tightly.

“Bedroom.” Hutch twisted his head as much as possible, watching as Starsky walked into the room on the left. He could just see Starsky in his peripheral vision. Drawers were yanked open and rifled through. “Don’t make a mess, Starsk,” Hutch joked.

Starsky practically climbed into the large dark wood armoire that stood against the bathroom wall. “Empty,” he snorted, slamming the door in disgust.

Hutch jiggled in his chair, trying hard not to laugh out loud. He wanted to mess with Starsky’s head, not totally upset him.

When Starsky returned, he held two ties and fastened them together. He looped both around Hutch’s chest, arms and the chair, tethering Hutch’s torso to the high back. He beamed at Hutch. “Submit?”

Making eye contact, Hutch smiled back. “Never.” He glanced through the kitchen window. It was getting light outside. It was a good thing that nobody could see into his apartment. His neighbors would have something to talk about for months to come if they saw one cop tying the other up.

Starsky raised his eyebrows. “Have it your way. Where now?” Hands on hips, he stood rigidly awaiting Hutch’s answer.

Hutch looked around him. “Kitchen.” He bit back his jocularity watching Starsky tear through his cupboards. Pots and pans clattered to the floor, and then were tossed back into the cabinet.

Starsky humphed at some of the foodstuffs he encountered. “You really do eat some rubbish, blondie,” he said more than once as he waved the offending boxes at Hutch.

Hutch’s stomach rumbled. “You could make breakfast while you are there,” Hutch suggested. “I’m a little tied up at the moment.”

To his surprise, Starsky actually measured out the ingredients of Hutch’s morning shake into the blender and turned it on. Starsky made toast with a liberal amount of butter for himself. He poured the shake into a tall glass and dropped a straw into the liquid.

“You going to untie me?” Hutch asked. Surely Starsky wasn’t giving up so easily.

“No.” Starsky put the shake on the kitchen table and scooted Hutch and the chair across the floor. “I’m sure you can manage like that.” He rested his butt against the counter and ate his breakfast

Hutch leaned forward, catching the straw between his teeth. It took him longer than normal to finish his shake, but then he didn’t usually drink it through a straw. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome,” Starsky said amiably. He hauled Hutch back to his original position. Starsky snapped another tie between his hands, leering at Hutch from behind the material.

Hutch’s knees were the next body part to be joined together. The glint in Starsky’s eyes made it clear that this was no longer about the presents, but about who could hold out the longest. It was becoming a battle of wills and Starsky loved a competition.

But so did Hutch. He struggled against the bindings. Not because he wanted to get free. He just wanted to see the joy in Starsky’s face when his captive failed to escape. They had played numerous games over the years they had known each other, and they were pretty evenly matched in who won and who lost.

“Cry uncle,” Starsky said a little too cheerfully. His whole manner screamed confidence that Hutch would give in before he did.

And Hutch would give in before Starsky. Although, he didn’t want Starsky to know that yet. He had given the bulk of the presents he had bought to Dobey yesterday. Hutch smiled when he thought about the mountain that now graced the Dobey family tree.

“Whatcha smiling at?” Starsky demanded. He paced the floor, circling around Hutch. “You gonna sit there all morning or give me a location?”

Hutch stuck his tongue out. “Well, let me see now. Venice Place is a nice location.” He ducked his head. Starsky’s fingers whistled past Hutch’s ear. “Now play nice, Detective Starsky,” he said calmly. “Greenhouse. And don’t uproot my plants. There’s nothing hidden in the soil.” He added for good measure, “I swear.”

Starsky nodded. “Wouldn’t dream of it, buddy. There’s no way you’d put your plants at risk like that.” He turned Hutch’s chair around to face the greenhouse.

“So you can see that I’m not harming your precious babies,” Starsky stated.

Hutch watched as Starsky searched the room thoroughly. The day bed was stripped and the mattress lifted up. Starsky even examined underneath the bed. Every nook and cranny was subjected to a full probing. True to his word, not one plant was disturbed. Every object was painstakingly placed back into its original position. Starsky was the neatest person Hutch knew.

Satisfied that he had left everything as he found it, Starsky walked menacingly back to Hutch. A silver tie swung from his left hand. Bending down, he lay the tie across Hutch’s thighs and fastened it underneath the chair seat. “We’re running out of rooms.”

“And you’ve run out of ties,” Hutch countered. Should he give in and tell Starsky where he had hidden the presents? Knowing that Starsky liked to open two presents before Christmas dinner, he had kept two back. They were hidden in the one place that Starsky would never think to look.

“But I can use other things. You can’t magic more rooms.” He scrutinized Hutch.

“Not that I need them. There’s not much else I can restrain by the looks of it.”

Hutch shifted in his seat. “True,” he conceded. “I guess there’s just the living room left. Knock yourself out, partner.”

Starsky walked towards the door.

Hutch held his breath, trying not to make eye contact with the one piece of furniture he didn’t want Starsky to check out.

Starsky pounced on the piano and opened the top. “Bingo,” he shouted triumphantly as he pulled out two packages.

“H-how did you know to look there?” Hutch strained against the fabric holding him firmly to the chair.

Starsky beamed like a Cheshire cat. “Knew all along. I saw you put them there yesterday.”

“You couldn’t have. You were in the john.” Hutch stopped. The penny dropped. “Ohh. You were spying on me.”

“Yep. You should know by now that you can’t put one over on old Starsky when it comes to hiding Christmas presents. Better men than you have tried and failed,” Starsky crowed. He danced around the room waving his spoils in the air. “Happy Christmas, Hutch.”

Hutch snickered at Starsky’s antics. “Well done. Happy Christmas, Starsky.”

Starsky stopped jigging around and sat in front of the Christmas tree. “Present opening time.” He selected two small parcels and put them on the table next to Hutch. “Hope you like them.”

“Uh. I won’t know if you don’t untie me so that I can open them?” Hutch said, tugging at his bonds. Starsky really had trussed him up good and proper.

“Should have thought of that before. You started this.” Starsky ripped the paper at one end of his gaily wrapped box. “I’m finishing it. You can stay there until I’m ready to let you go. Maybe you’ll think twice next year.”

Hutch sat quietly. He had a whole year to plot his revenge. He would let Starsky have his fun, for now. “You got me. I’ll take my punishment like a good boy.”