Hold

There was sound coming from the inside of the apartment. He had called. The door was left wide open for him. He climbed the stairs, each one getting heavier to climb. He walked in, stiffly. “Starsk?”

“Yeah?”

Hutch watched Starsky give him a questioning look. He took a step towards his partner who was sitting on the couch. Then he stopped. Stopped cold.

“What is it, Hutch?” Starsky’s look intensified, which only made it worse.

“I, I–” Hutch found courage. He walked towards the middle of the room. He slowly let himself squat in front of his partner.

Starsky hadn’t moved an inch, but his indigo eyes settled on him and never let go. Waiting.

Hutch trembled. He bent to the left to get on one knee, to relieve the pressure and not lose his balance.

“Starsk, can you–can you h-hold me?”

Starsky grunted a little laugh. “What?”

“I’m serious. Please. Would you hold me?”

Starsky sobered nervously. “What are you asking me, hold. You mean a hug? A long hug?”

“No. I need, I need you to hold me.” He gulped out the last two words so painfully it sounded like a timid whisper.

“Are you alright?”

“Starsk–Please. ” He closed his eyes. His head hurt. “Please…” Hutch fell forward, grabbing a knee with one hand, an ankle with the other. He rubbed his forehead, then face on the other knee.

“Hutch, come on, what is this.”

Hutch trembled overtly. He whimpered, his heart was sick. Barely audible, he said to the floor, “He’s going to make me beg….” He sighed with affliction.

Starsky grabbed his forearms. With a commanding voice, he uttered, “Get up here, right now.” He couldn’t stand the indignity of making this tall man shrivel up like a animal asking for its life. His partner deserved more than that. He pulled on him sharply, to shake the pride back in. Hutch let himself be led, but barely.

“Oh, Hutch, come on. You didn’t have to ask like that.”

Hutch crumbled, his head under Starsky’s arm, as he was pulled onto the couch. Starsky’s firmness folded him, and he leaned even more sullenly into his strength.

“I can’t give you this here, it’s not going to be enough for you is it?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know why.”

Starsky shook his head. He struggled to get him free from under his arm, gathering him to stand, to walk towards the bedroom.

“No, no, I’m not trying to force–put you out. I didn’t mean to–”

“I’m going to carry you there by force if you don’t cooperate, Blondie.” Starsky pulled him, a dead weight against the wrest of the carpet and bumbling steps. The last few feet to the edge of the bed, Starsky scooped up his legs to Hutch’s astonishment. He was flung onto the mattress and overturned. Starsky cradled his entire back and snaked his right arm under, his left over, in a warm graceful lull, dreamlike, dripping in tenderness. “I’m here with you now.”

Hutch pushed his back into Starsky’s torso, and clung to the arms that encircled him. “Oh, Starsk…”, he shuddered.

“Shhh. No more. Just be here, be held. With me, against me. Be safe.” Hutch burrowed his head under one heavy arm. This was the hold he meant, he didn’t know he meant, he didn’t even hope he’d have. A needy, tiny cry snuck out.

Starsky petted it away. “Okay, I know. I know.”