If You Asked Me To

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Starsky and Hutch reveal their feelings for each other while solving a brutal murder.

 

This is my second story. I really enjoyed writing it. I plan to author a sequel and any feedback would be greatly appreciated!

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Prologue 

September 1979

“Share a beer with me, Hug? I’m celebrating,” Starsky said happily as he took a seat at the bar.

“You passed,” Huggy Bear, owner and operator of “The Pits” replied, smiling as he poured two beers. “On the house, my friend.”

Starsky pulled a folded white paper from his jacket pocket and opened it on the bar. “Full reinstatement to active duty, starting tomorrow.” He grinned broadly. “I’m back, babe.”

“Bad guys watch out, huh?”

“You betcha. The Dynamic Duo is back in action.”

“Speaking of…” Huggy glanced at the front door as if waiting for someone in particular to suddenly appear. “Where is the Boy Wonder?”

“Sleeping. He was on nights this week,” Starsky paused to sip his beer. “He wanted to come with me, but I convinced him to stay home and get some sleep.”

“Big boy now, huh?” Huggy teased. “Making Hutch cut the apron strings? I’m surprised Blondie gave in so easily.”

“He didn’t really,” Starsky snorted. “Haddda promise ‘Ma Hen’ I’d come by right after.”

Huggy laughed. “I guess he has gotten a little over pro-tec-tive.”

“A little?”

“Ok,” Huggy amended. “A lot.” He set down his beer. “I’m surprised you put up with it as long as you have, my man.”

Starsky sobered some. “It’s what he needed, Hug.”

“Yeah,” Huggy agreed, his smile fading as he thought back over the hardships the two detectives faced the past four months. He looked fondly at his friend. Just looking at him, Starsky appeared to have fully recovered from the bullets that nearly killed him. Still, Huggy wondered if he suffered any lingering disability from Gunther’s failed assassination attempt on his life. He knew Starsky would never complain and Huggy wasn’t the type of man to pry.

“So,” Starsky said finishing his beer and deftly changing the subject. “I guess I had better get going before he starts worrying something went wrong.”

“He gonna be okay with you going back on the streets?”

Starsky hesitated slightly before answering. “Yeah, we worked it out while I was recovering.” He paused, then as if he needed to explain, added quietly, “I’m a cop, Hug. It’s all I know.”

Huggy didn’t miss the hesitation in Starsky’s voice before he answered. He’d bet a day’s pay Starsky didn’t give Hutch much choice but to accept his decision to return to active duty. “Ya don’t have to work the streets, you know. You could do something else and still be a cop.”

“No,” Starsky replied firmly, as if he’d had this conversation many times before. “I couldn’t.”

“Why not?”

“I’m a street cop, not a pencil pusher. It’s who I am, Hug.”

“What you do is who you are?” Huggy shook his head in disagreement. “I don’t buy that.”

Starsky was quiet for a moment, surprised at his friend’s sudden serious demeanor. But just as quick, the answer came to him and he affectionately patted Huggy’s hand as he got up to leave. “Thanks for the beer and…” He picked up his reinstatement letter and winked at Huggy. “Thanks.”

“For?”

“Letting me know you care.”

“Hey, Starsky!” Huggy called out just as Starsky opened the door to leave.

“Yeah?” Starsky looked over his shoulder, the impish grin back in place.

“You’re not welcome.”

******

Starsky parked the Torino in front of Hutch’s apartment and cut the engine. For a long time he sat in his car and stared, unseeing, at the letter in his hand.

Full Active Duty.

His hand shook slightly. There was a time when he feared he would never be a cop again.

Never again be Hutch’s partner.

‘That’s the real truth isn’t it?’ Starsky silently admitted to himself. ‘Not that bullshit you were feeding Huggy. Be honest, at least admit it to yourself. Admit the real reason you fought so hard to return.’

He could feel his heart beat faster and his vision blurred as tears filled his eyes. He blinked furiously, forbidding them to fall as old memories surfaced and brought back the numbing fear that had constantly plagued him during his recovery. A fear he had told no one, not even Hutch, though he suspected Hutch always knew anyway. To voice such a fear meant there was a real chance that it could happen and Starsky would not accept that. So instead, he focused on his physical therapy with an almost maniacal intensity, his determination to return to his former self paramount.

“Who am I, Hug? The truth?”

“I’m Hutch’s partner.”

“I’ll always be Hutch’s partner.” Starsky gripped the letter tightly, it’s presence proof of his determination to remain at his partner’s side. It confused him sometimes, his intense need to be with Hutch. A need he shied away from exploring deeper for fear it would reveal burgeoning feelings he wasn’t ready to face up to just yet.

They once joked about spending seventy-five percent of their time together. If they were no longer partners, that time together would drop drastically.

And Hutch would get another partner.

Jealously surged through Starsky so hot he felt his face heat up with the intensity of it. “Like hell,” He muttered.

A sudden loud tapping on his window startled Starsky out of his unsettling thoughts and he looked up surprised to see an elderly woman peering at him through the glass.

“Are you okay?” Her muffled voice asked, worried.

He rolled down his window and smiled sheepishly. “Yeah, just thinking too hard.”

“You’re much too young to have the weight of the world on your shoulders,” she teased, mirroring his smile. “I’m sorry I startled you.” She scrutinized him closely once more to reassure herself he was really okay. Satisfied, she continued jogging down the sidewalk.

Starsky watched her for a moment, admiring her healthy lifestyle at her age. “Gotta be the neighborhood,” he mused, thinking about how much Hutch liked to run. He turned his attention back to the letter in his hand. He couldn’t wait to show it to Hutch. He grinned, remembering the look on Captain Dobey’s face when he told him he would bring the letter back once he showed it to Hutch.

“Can’t you just tell him?” Dobey had said exasperated.

Already halfway out the door of Dobey’s office, Starsky never slowed down as he had replied over his shoulder, “Nope.”

He would give it to Personal after he and Hutch ate lunch. Thinking of lunch reminded Starsky he was hungry and he carefully folded the letter in half and unzipped his jacket before he remembered this jacket didn’t have an inside pocket.

Damn, he missed his brown leather jacket.

He had asked about it while he was in the hospital. He wanted to see if there was any way it could be repaired. That jacket had been with him through good times and bad. Through Nam, the Academy…Terry. They had a history together and even if it couldn’t be repaired he would not have parted with it. But it wasn’t with the clothes he wore in the hospital and when he asked Hutch, he’d given Starsky this vague look and said he thought it was with the rest of his things. Hutch told him the only things he took home with him were Starsky’s gun and holster. Starsky asked the nurses that took care of him, but no one remembered a brown leather jacket.

Neither Huggy or Dobey were able to help. Both had assumed Hutch had his jacket, but neither recalled actually seeing the jacket after the shooting. He even went as far as coaxing Hutch into locating the ambulance crew that brought him to the hospital that evening, hoping maybe it was left on the ambulance. But Hutch said no one reported a lost brown leather jacket. After exhausting all avenues, he’d reluctantly given up his search, but deep down held hopes that it would turn up someday.

Today he wore his black leather jacket. He didn’t usually wear it because he didn’t like the smaller pockets. He was always afraid he’d loose his stuff, so he was forever patting his pockets whenever he wore the damn thing.

It irritated the hell out of him.

He decided to leave the letter in the Torino and show it to Hutch when they got in the car to go get lunch. He tucked the letter in the sun visor over his head, got out the car and meandered up the stairs to Hutch’s place.

******

Starsky used his key to open the door on the off chance Hutch was still asleep. The apartment was quiet when he entered and he walked as silently as possible to Hutch’s bedroom. Sure enough, Blondie was curled on his side facing away from the door, fast asleep.

Starsky consulted his watch and frowned just as his stomach growled ominously. It was after one pm and he was hungry. He felt bad about waking his partner, but it was chow time and Hutch did say he wanted to go to lunch with Starsky.

Starsky smiled as he moved closer to the bed. When sleeping, Hutch usually looked so innocent, so…cute. Starsky snickered, knowing Hutch wouldn’t appreciate being considered ‘cute’ to his partner, so he made a note to himself to kid him on it later. He leaned over his partner, his lips pursed with the intention of waking him Starsky style–by blowing in his ear.

Instead, he stopped dead in his tracks.

His eyes widened incredulously at the sight before him. Hutch was lying on his side curled up into a semi-fetal position with his arms hugging a brown jacket tightly to his chest.

Starsky’s brown leather jacket.

The one his partner ‘couldn’t find.’

Taken by surprise, Starsky wasn’t sure how long he stood watching his partner. Hutch looked so vulnerable…so hurt. Why? Starsky asked himself puzzled. Why did you lie about my jacket? He noticed Hutch’s face resembled one of his ex-girlfriend’s (he didn’t remember her name) when she had been crying–all puffy and red-nosed. Were you crying, Hutch? And if you were, why? He gazed long and hard at his jacket clutched so desperately in his partner’s arms. Why are you sleeping with my jacket? What’s so bad that it would cause you to seek comfort from something I wore, instead of coming to me?

The answer came to him immediately. Only one thing would upset Hutch enough to resort to this unusual behavior. How often was he reminded by his friends how worried they had been about Hutch’s welfare while Starsky fought for his life after the shooting that nearly killed him.

Guilt washed over him as it dawned on him that maybe Hutch hadn’t dealt with the shooting and Starsky’s near death as well as he’d implied.

“Awww Hutch,” Starsky closed his eyes against the painful image in front of him. “Oh, buddy, was I so wrapped up in my own needs that I neglected yours?”

An almost uncontrollable urge to gather Hutch in his arms and kiss (where had that thought come from?) the pain away washed over him. Confused by his emotions, he paused before acting on them, but the need to comfort his partner was too strong. Feeling his control slipping at an alarming rate, he quickly retreated from the room before he succumbed to his feelings. He ended up on the sofa, surprised and glad his hasty retreat didn’t wake Hutch. At a loss what to do next, he remained there and attempted to sort out the emotions and questions that assaulted him.

Mainly, how to fix the damage done.

You don’t need the jacket, babe. I’m here, Starsky thought sadly. That jacket can’t love the pain away like I can.

The need to comfort Hutch batted at him relentlessly. He couldn’t help feeling that somehow he’d let his best friend down–hadn’t been there when he needed him. Well, he thought with a new determination, I’m here now, Blintz, and it’s all gonna be about you, babe. You’re gonna know I’m here for you and I love ya…I love you so much, Hutch, and I’m sorry, babe… I’m sorry I let you down.

Starsky wasn’t aware he’d sat on the sofa for nearly an hour, all thoughts of food forgotten, as he faced Hutch’s bedroom, vowing over and over again to help his partner through whatever was causing him this much hurt and pain. The sounds of Hutch moving around in his bedroom stirred him out of his stupor and he quickly stood up, went to the front door, quietly opened it, then shut it loudly and pretended he’d just come into the apartment.

Starsky’s troubled expression did not match his cheerful tone as he yelled out, “Hey, Hutch? You better be up and at ’em, I’m starving!”

“Let me grab a quick shower, Starsk, and I’ll be right out, okay?” Hutch hollered out from his bedroom.

“Make it quick, Blondie,” he teased, his smile now genuine.

Hutch poked his head out the door. “We celebrating, buddy?”

“You bet. We start tomorrow morning, babe.” Starsky couldn’t help it, he knew he was grinning like an idiot.

Hutch raised an eyebrow. “Tomorrow morning? But I gotta work tonight.”

“You’re off tonight and back on days tomorrow…with your partner.” Starsky bowed dramatically at Hutch.

Hutch left his bedroom heading for the bathroom, but paused by his partner at the good news. “Hallelujah!” He smiled happily at Starsky.

Starsky tried hard not to get choked up at the obvious glee in Hutch’s voice. But before he could voice his happiness at Hutch’s exclamation, Hutch ruined it by adding, “Back on days! Damn, I hate night shift.” Hutch’s smile widened even more and his eyes danced with devilment at Starsky’s sudden pout.

“You’re mean, Hutch,” Starsky groused, realizing Hutch was teasing him.

Hutch startled Starsky by suddenly leaning over and pulling him in his arms for a quick hug. “That’s great, Starsk. I knew it. I knew you’d be back.” Hutch’s sky blue eyes were sparkling and he wore the same silly grin that donned Starsky’s face.

“Never would have made it without you, babe,” Starsky said gruffly. He couldn’t believe this was the same man he saw only and hour ago. Hutch looked so happy. Starsky looked hard, but found no trace of the sadness he’d witnessed earlier. Now, he saw only love…love for him shining bright in those beautiful blue eyes of his partner.

Startled, Starsky stood transfixed, drunk on the love he saw reflected there. An unconventional love that was reserved only for him. A forbidden passion that he was now realizing he wanted desperately to return. “Hutch…?” Starsky questioned breathlessly, his heart beating faster as he searched his friend’s face for the truth.

Starsky’s voice shook Hutch out of his stupor and he blinked rapidly a few times before quickly looking away from Starsky’s intense gaze. “I-I’d better go shower,” Hutch stammered nervously, stepping away from Starsky.

“No, wait.” Starsky reached out to stop Hutch, but Hutch out maneuvered him and headed to the safety of the bathroom.

Or so he thought.

Starsky saw something in Hutch’s eyes he’d never noticed before and he wanted desperately to see it again. A man of little patience, Starsky decided then and there he was in no mood for a game of cat and mouse.

It was time to get things out in the open.

Everything.

So he said the one thing that halted Hutch in his tracks.

“I found my jacket today.”

Hutch stopped alright. But he wouldn’t turn around. “W-What jacket are you referring to?”

“You gonna make me pussyfoot around or are ya gonna fess up?” Starsky said quietly. “And before you dig yourself any deeper, I was here earlier while you were sleeping.”

Hutch hung his head, mortified.

Starsky was sure the problem wasn’t stemming from his return to active duty, after all, Hutch had possession of his jacket long before anyone thought he would be able to return to work. Not to mention, they had hashed this out in great detail when it had been decided there was a chance he could return to the streets. Still, he thought he’d better ask to be sure. “Is this about me going back on the streets? I mean, I thought we worked that all out.”

Hutch shook his head vehemently, but did not raise his head or turn to face his partner. “No, I want more than anything for us to be on the streets together, you know that.” He paused and took a deep breath as if he was going to say more, but he remained silent.

“Hutch…” Starsky searched for the words to say to his friend how he bad he felt and how much he wanted to be the one Hutch turned to instead of his jacket, but everything he thought of sounded so inadequate to how he actually felt, he fell silent.

Hutch mistook the silence for anger. “Starsk…I-I’m s-sorry. I…I c-can explain…”

“I ain’t mad, Hutch.” Starsky interrupted, still speaking in a soft tone of voice. He moved until he was directly behind Hutch. “It’s me that should be saying ‘I’m sorry.’ I was so caught up in my own misery I wasn’t there for you.” He took Hutch’s arm and pulled gently, turning his partner around to face him. “Can you forgive me?”

Hutch kept his face averted, refusing to meet Starsky’s eyes. “Forgive you…?” His voice was thick with barely contained emotion, “How can you–

“It’s okay, Hutch. Really. You keep the jacket for now, babe, and when you’re ready, you can give it back.” Starsky put his fingers under Hutch chin and tugged, tilting his face upwards. “But right now, more than anything, I need you to look at me, Blintz.”

“I can’t. Not right now. God, Starsk, I’m so embarrassed. . .” Hutch’s face was white as Minnesota snow.

“That’s not why you won’t look at me.” Starsky hesitated for a moment trying to figure out the best angle to use against Hutch to get him to come clean. He knew Hutch would try to avoid the issue at all costs, but now that Starsky had an inkling that Hutch was holding back serious feelings for him, there was no way he was going to let it go. Not now, not when he was starting to realize he felt the same. “We’ve always been straight with each other. I want the truth, Hutch,” he pushed gently. “You owe me that.”

Hutch was afraid, but part of him ached to confess his true feelings for his best friend. He was tired of pretending his love for Starsky was only platonic. Besides, Starsky was right, they had always been straight with each other and maintaining the lie had started to take its toll on the blond. Reaching a decision, Hutch took a deep breath then let it out slowly. “They say the eyes are the window to the soul,” he replied disheartened. “I don’t want. . . I didn’t think you’d like what you saw.”

“What are you afraid I’d see, Hutch?” Starsky prompted softly.

Slowly Hutch raised his eyes and looked at Starsky.

Starsky glimpsed sadness in the ocean blue of Hutch’s eyes, but along with that sadness was a longing hidden there that took his breath away.

“How much I love you,” Hutch answered uneasily.

“I love you too, Hutch. But why are you trying to hide it from me? I already know you love me.”

“It’s not the same, Starsk,” Hutch replied hopelessly.

Starsky thought back to the feelings and confusion he’d been battling for a while now and finally started to admit to himself what he’d been trying to deny would not be denied.

He slowly shook his head. “That’s where you’re wrong, babe. I couldn’t possibly love you any more than I already do.”

Wishing with all his heart that this conversation would end, but knowing it had gone too far to stop now, Hutch snapped, “Enough to make love with me? Live with me? Grow old with me?” He stood proud, waiting for Starsky to shun him.

“Forsake all others ,too,” Starsky added, smiling.

Thinking Starsky was teasing him, Hutch looked up sharply, but the angry retort died on his lips when he saw his partner’s face.

“The loves the same, Hutch. Maybe. . . maybe we’re just ready to express it differently now.”

Hutch knew he was hearing what Starsky was saying, he was just having a hard time believing it. Starsky saw the lingering doubt in his partner’s eyes and tried again to reassure his partner that what he was hearing was true.

“Look in my eyes, Hutch. What does my soul tell you?”

Hutch felt as if he was drowning in a sea of blue as he looked deep in his partner’s eyes.

“What do you see, Hutch?” Starsky prompted gently.

“My reason for living,” Hutch admitted helplessly.

“That’s my line,” Starsky teased. He sobered at his partner’s sad smile at his weak joke. “Ah, Hutch…can’t you see I’m in love with you?” Starsky’s liquid voice flowed over Hutch, making him melt inside.

“Starsk.” Hutch could barely speak, he was so startled by his best friend’s revelation. “Starsky,” he tried again, but only succeeded in brushing his hand lovingly against Starsky’s slightly stubbled cheek with his knuckles.

Starsky leaned into the caress. “You and your way with words,” he teased gently.

Hutch felt his face warm at Starsky’s teasing words. Gathering up what meager courage he had remaining, he moved closer, purposely invading Starsky’ space. “I love you David Michael.” His hand stopped under Starsky’s chin and tugged gently, encouraging Starsky to tilt his head. “I love you so very much.”

He was gonna kiss him, Starsky realized, his heart beating like a drum. Hutch was going to kiss him…and he was… going to let him. Starsky was a little afraid, but game to venture into the unfamiliar territory of loving another man. He relinquished dominance, more than willing to let Hutch take the lead. Desire was quickly replacing nervousness as he licked his lips and tugged gently on the belt around Hutch’s waist, pulling him closer, urging wordlessly to give him more. Starsky’s breath caught in his throat and he couldn’t suppress a little moan of anticipation as Hutch’s hand closed around the back of his neck and brought his mouth close to his.

Hutch understood Starsky’s silent communication. His fingers tunneled in Starsky’s hair, cupping his head as he pulled him closer still, his breath hot behind Starsky’s ear. Hutch pulled his head back slightly, his lips only a hair’s breath from touching Starsky’s, when he paused. Shit. What the hell am I doing? We need to talk about this, but all I’m thinking of is nailing him into next week. Hutch closed his eyes tightly in frustration. Why do I always have to be the responsible one? I want this just as much as he does. Just once, Hutch, throw caution to the wind and take what he’s offering. Hutch opened his eyes and looked longingly at that perfect mouth. Then with a sigh, gently eased his hand out of Starsky’s hair and reluctantly stepped away from the man he loved with all his heart. It was definitely one of the hardest things he had ever done in his life, but Starsky was too important to him to rush things.

Feeling Hutch’s retreat, Starsky opened his eyes and looked puzzled at his partner. “Why’d ya stop?”

“Starsk…we need to talk about this.” Hutch hoped he sounded reasonable and not liked he felt–horny and frustrated as hell.

“Talk?!! What’s there to talk about?” Starsky asked, frustration and disbelief heavy in his voice. He waved his hands in the air in frustration, then brought them to his head and rammed his fingers through his hair, while glaring at Hutch. “I love you, you love me. I want you, you want me. That about sums it up, don’t’cha think?”

“There’s a lot more at stake here then our sexual gratification,” Hutch said seriously. Needing space, he moved away from Starsky and sat on the couch. He was having a hard enough time resisting the urge to take Starsky back in his arms and continue what he started. He needed to step away from temptation so he could think clearly.

“This isn’t about sex for me, Hutch. It’s about love…I thought you felt the same,” Starsky replied, hurt and confusion replacing his earlier frustration.

Hutch expelled his breath on a short muttered obscenity. “I do!“ He quickly assured his partner. “That’s the problem, buddy,” Hutch paused. Starsky had no clue of the inner turmoil raging inside him. His mind was insisting he do the right thing, while his body fought to answer the call of his mate. He ran a hand through his hair and down his face before continuing to try to reason with his partner. “I won’t be able to make love to you and just walk away.”

“Who’s walking away? I ain’t going nowhere, Hutch.”

“Starsky, I want a life with you. The whole nine yards. House, bills…commitment.”

“I know, Hutch. I want the same thing.”

“But I’ve wanted it for a long time.” Hutch looked pointedly at Starsky. “How long have you wanted this?”

Starsky hesitated, not wanting to answer Hutch. He had a sinking feeling he wasn’t going to like where this conversation was heading. “When I found you holding my jacket in your sleep,” he answered honestly.

“You need time to time to think about this.”

“I know how I feel, Hutch. Time won’t change my love or desire for you. I want this.” Starsky sat on the sofa beside Hutch. He touched Hutch’s arm, needing the connection. “I want you.”

Hutch smiled warmly at Starsky. “I believe you, babe. But I’m not talking about the love. The love is the easy part. I’m talking about what you’re going to be giving up–what you could stand to lose.”

Starsky sobered some as he absorbed Hutch’s meaning. As much as he hated to admit it, so far, he had only thought of his love for Hutch. He let his mind review all the things he wouldn’t have if he chose a life with his partner.

Mainly, he wouldn’t father any children.

He had wanted kids. Starsky figured Hutch was probably thinking about this too. If they became partners (what was the correct term to use when two guys were a couple, anyway?) his dream of one day becoming a parent would end. And, as usual, thinking of kids led to thoughts of Terry. If she hadn’t died. . .For the first time, his fantasy of how things might have been if she’d survived focused on pregnancy. What if she’d been shot in the abdomen instead of the head? What if she couldn’t have had children? Would it have changed his love for her, his desire to marry her?

“No!” Starsky answered himself emphatically. Besides, couldn’t he be a father-figure to kids who needed someone–like Hutch being a Big Brother to Kiko? He could still have his dream, just altered a little.

And what could he lose? His family, his friends…his job if they were reported. He shook his head. True, his mother wouldn’t be happy, but Starsky knew she would never hate him or turn her back on him for loving Hutch. He would stand to lose Nicky, though. His chest tightened at the thought of losing his brother’s love and respect. He pushed thoughts of Nicky’s rejection to the back of his mind, deciding he didn’t want to address that possibility until he had to.

His friends. If they couldn’t understand…well…they really weren’t his friends to start with.

His job. He loved his job. He was born to be a cop. He and Hutch had worked so hard to get him reinstated. Thinking of his partner pulled Starsky out of his musing. He looked up from where his gaze had drifted to Hutch’s chest and into in his partner’s troubled eyes.

Hutch. Starsky knew his answer. Hutch was worth losing everything. He felt certain that with Hutch at his side, the other stuff would work itself out. And if it didn’t…well, they would pick up and start anew…together. Starsky relaxed, content with his decision. If only everything in life was that simple.

“Ain’t losing nothing, Blondie, as long as you’re loving me.”

Hutch sat silently watching the play of emotions dance across Starsky’s face. He felt pent up worry melt away and his heart swelled at Starsky’s answer. What had taken him months to work through had taken Starsky all of three minutes to ponder and decide his future. Hutch wasn’t really surprised that Starsky could make his mind up so fast. His partner’s way of thinking was usually in black and white, whereas Hutch tended to see things in several shades of grey. He knew deep in his heart that once Starsky made his mind up, he would not change it. Still, he felt he owed it to his friend, and their future relationship, to give him more time to think about his decision.

It was also easier to make this decision knowing that Starsky would not, in all probability, change his mind. Hutch knew his partner and it was a gamble he was willing to take. Still, it would not be easy. Hutch mirrored Starsky’s smile with his own, but his eyes remained troubled. Starsky’s hand was still on his arm and beneath the fabric he could feel the warmth of his hand. He reached out and fingered a curl behind Starsky’s ear. “I love you so much right now,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion.

“Show me,” Starsky replied seductively, thinking Hutch had given in. He leaned into Hutch’s caress, more than ready to get back to their earlier activities.

“If I make love to you, I’ll never give you up,” Hutch warned softly.

“That’s a piss-poor threat, babe, since I’d have to leave in the first place.”

“You make it so hard to think when you look at me like that.”

“So stop thinking, Hutch. I can think of a whole lotta things we could be doing instead.” Starsky waggled his eyebrows at the blond.

Hutch cursed under his breath and reluctantly withdrew his hand. “One of us has to have a clear head,” he chided. “You need to really think about this, Starsk, and with your hormones raging, now is not a good time.”

Starsky sighed dramatically and flopped back on the sofa in defeat. “So, we’re not gonna make love tonight?” He complained, pouting.

“Nooo…Actually, not for thirty days.”

Starsky shot up off the couch. “Thirty..??!!” He looked at Hutch as if he’d hadn’t heard him correctly. “What the hell are you talking about?!”

“I’m talking about us waiting for thirty days before reaching a decision to commit to each other,” Hutch explained patiently.

“You need thirty days?” Starsky asked surprised. For the first time he worried about the depth of Hutch’s feelings for him.

“No. I’ve known how I felt and what I wanted for a while now.”

“How long?” Starsky demanded, needing to know. He watched Hutch’s expression change to That Look and he knew the answer to his own question. “Gunther.” Only thoughts of his shooting and near death put that look of utter hopelessness and pain on Hutch’s face. Starsky was sure Hutch wasn’t even aware his expression had changed.

Hutch nodded. “Every night I begged God to spare your life while you lay in a coma from Gunther’s hit. You had to die before I could admit to myself how much I really love you.” Hutch was speaking so low Starsky had to move closer to hear him.

The raw pain in Hutch’s voice tore at Starsky’s heart and a vision of Hutch clutching his jacket entered his head, reminding him of his failure to realize Hutch needed help in dealing with all that happened with Gunther. Still, Starsky was unhappy that Hutch felt he didn’t know his own mind. He held out his hands, palms up in a gesture of defeat, “So, I’m being punished because of some time limit?” He shook his head and dropped his hands to rest at his sides, “I don’t believe this shit.”

Hutch left the sofa to stand near his love. “Not punished, Starsk. God, I could never hurt you. But I need for you to be sure. More than that…I-I need to know I gave you enough time to think it through.” He looked pleadingly at his partner. “Please try to understand.”

The appearance of Hutch’s stutter deflated Starsky’s anger. He gathered Hutch in his arms and held him close to his heart. Hutch only stuttered when he was extremely nervous or upset. Starsky sighed, knowing that he would give in. This was important to Hutch and he could never deny Hutch anything when it was that important to him. He gave one last half-hearted attempt to change Hutch’s mind. “I know what I want, babe. Today…thirty days from now, my decision will be the same.”

“Then…do it for me.” Liquid blue eyes gazed deep into Starsky’s, searching for understanding. “I need this, Starsk.”

I just hadda fall in love with a mule-headed, stubborn, righteous white knight. He would do it, but he didn’t have to like it. Starsky sighed louder this time and said with resignation, “Okay.” He stepped back a little and pointed a finger at Hutch. “But I’m doing it for you, Hutch.” The finger left Hutch’s chest and turned to his own before he continued. “I don’t need the time.”

“Promise?” Hutch persisted.

“Promise,” Starsky grudgingly agreed. “But I’m counting today as day one.”

Hutch smiled his gratitude and leaned in close again to gently kiss Starsky on his forehead. “Thank you, babe.”

Starsky sighed and moved his head slightly, encouraging those lips to meet his. Instead, Hutch gently rubbed a finger across Starsky’s lips, then reluctantly backed away.

Starsky frowned. “Wha..? We’re not gonna kiss?”

Hutch shook his head.

“Oh, come on, Hutch! Ya gotta be shittin’ me. We can’t at least kiss?”

Hutch raised an eyebrow at Starsky’s sudden outburst. “No,” he replied calmly.

“Then the deal’s off!” Starsky sputtered.

“Starsk…you promised,” Hutch reminded his irate partner.

“That’s before you came up with this stupid ass rule,” Starsky fumed.

“Starsk,” Hutch said seriously. “If I kiss you, there’s nothing that is going to stop me from making love to you. Nothing. Please, please do this for me. I-I don’t want to spend our life together wondering when you’re going to change your mind because we rushed things.”

For several minutes they stood glaring at each other in a Mexican standoff before Starsky caved in and consented defeat. “Alright already. Twenty-nine days.” He held up his hand and stopped Hutch’s protest. “We’re already counting today as day one.”

“Okay, buddy,” Hutch relented.

Another thought occurred to Starsky and he narrowed his eyes and not to gently tapped Hutch on his chest. “But let’s make one thing clear, Blondie. You’re mine. No one else’s. Thirty days or not, our fidelity to each other starts now. Agreed?”

“Agreed,” Hutch replied easily. “I’m all yours, babe. For as long as you want me.”

Satisfied he had made his point, Starsky sat back down on the sofa and picked up the TV guide. “Go shower, Hutch. If I can’t eat you, I can at least eat a good lunch.”

Hutch laughed. “Tell you what, since we’re celebrating, we can go wherever you want…my treat.” At Starsky’s less than enthusiastic nod, Hutch went to take his shower.

Starsky sat on the sofa and listened to his love undress, preparing to shower. He thought of Hutch’s beautiful body, naked and wet, and he wondered how he would smell and feel and…taste. The image of soapsuds slithering down the blond’s smooth golden chest and thighs wasn’t suppressed soon enough, and for the first time Starsky felt need for his partner slam into him with such intensity, that he thought he would go mad. Deciding TV was out of the question, Starsky got up and walked to the door of the bathroom. The door was ajar and he could see Hutch’s silhouette moving behind the shower curtain.

“Hutch?”

Hutch pulled the curtain to one side and poked his head out. “Yeah?”

“I’m giving ya thirty days ’cause you asked. But since I never asked for this, you have my permission to make love to me whenever you want.” He shut the door behind him, not waiting to hear Hutch’s response.

 

Twenty-Eight Days Later. . .

Hutch relaxed against the Torino enjoying a little Starsky ogling as he waited for his partner to finish questioning ‘Big Manny’ LoVollo, Sonny DeMarko’s oldest and most loyal muscle. Hutch knew, as well as his partner, that this case in all probability would go unsolved. Not for lack of trying on their end, but sometimes it all boiled down to who you are and who you know.

This was one of those times.

You don’t sleep with a Mafia boss’s wife and expect to get away with a smack on the hand.

Hutch suspected Theo Pendleton found this out the hard way.

Yesterday, the police fished parts of the tennis instructor out of the water for over four hours. Some parts were still missing.

Mrs. DeMarko was very beautiful, but Hutch seriously doubted that piece of ass was worth it. He was pretty sure, near the end, Theo doubted it too.

Unlike most of their cases, the ‘who-dun-it’ part was easy. Sonny DeMarko. Hutch would bet his paycheck DeMarko probably did the job personally. Hutch sighed. Knowing DeMarko did it was one thing, proving that he was involved was going to be the son of a bitch.

Santino ‘Sonny’ DeMarko, originally from New York and presently head of one of the largest Mafia families in California, did not make mistakes. He also did not leave witnesses. No one would rat on DeMarko, either. Normally easygoing, he was a nasty SOB when pissed. Everyone knew if you betrayed DeMarko, you and most of your entire family would pay the price, grandma and little kiddies included. To make matters worse, DeMarko also had friends in high places, making him essentially untouchable.

Hutch would like nothing better than to bust his ass, but he knew this case wasn’t going to be the one to put him away. Starsky knew it too.

Unfortunately, so did Big Manny.

This wasn’t the first time an instructor of Mrs. DeMarko’s met with an unfortunate end.

Hutch pushed his sunglasses back up his nose, folded his arms across his chest, and leaned back against Starsky’s car. Watching his partner, Hutch felt the never distant desire he felt for Starsky rise again in his loins. He uncrossed his legs to make room in his suddenly too tight cords.

His movements caught Starsky’s eye and his partner’s attention diverted from Big Manny to Hutch. He gifted Hutch with a soft smile and a barely noticeable wink of an eye.

Hutch flushed slightly.

Busted.

Rarely on the job did he allow himself to think of the personal changes in their relationship. But lately, he was having a problem watching his partner without his body responding in a rather embarrassing way. He’d been a long time without sex–not counting self induced hand jobs–and he was sure as hell going to remedy that situation as soon as the thirty days were up. Meanwhile, he’d just have to keep suppressing his urges before they caused a serious problem.

Starsky turned his attention back to Manny, but not before he subtly shifted his weight to his left leg, making his already snug blue jeans tighter against his derriere.

“Tease,” Hutch thought smiling.

Starsky handed Manny his card, asking him to call if he thought of anything else that would be of help to the case and to have Mr. DeMarko get in touch with the department as soon as he returned from ‘vacation’.

Manny took the card, making a big production of putting it safely in his pocket. He patted the jacket pocket containing the card, plastered a big fake grin on his rotund face, and assured Starsky he would call him if he remembered anything useful.

“Yeah, suuure you will,” Hutch thought. “When pigs fly.” He pushed away from the Torino and opened the driver’s door for his partner, then walked around the front of the car to the passenger side and got in.

“Well, that was a big fat waste of time,” Starsky muttered, shutting his door.

“Don’t tell me you actually expected to get a lead?” Hutch asked incredulously.

“No. . . not really.” Starsky pulled out into the oncoming traffic. “Hungry?” He asked hopefully.

Hutch shrugged. “Not really, but I could eat something if you want to stop.”

“You mind hot dogs?”

Hutch sighed loudly. “If you must.”

******

Starsky pulled up to the curb in front of Venice Place and cut the motor. Neither partner made a move to get out of the car. After a minute or two of just sitting there not speaking and staring out into space, Starsky glanced shyly at Hutch.

“You know. . .” Starsky started softly, no longer looking at Hutch, but staring at his hands resting on the steering wheel. “This part. . . where we say goodnight to each other?”

“Yeah?” Hutch urged, his voice just as soft.

“It’s getting harder. . . especially now that we’re close to this thing ending.”

“Yeah,” Hutch agreed, his voice taking on a honeyed tone that signaled his emotions were running high. He caressed Starsky’s cheek lightly, then moved to open his door.

“Hutch. . . wait,” Starsky said quietly. “I. . .”

“Two more days, Starsk,” Hutch whispered hoarsely.

“But, Hutch..” Starsky looked pleadingly at his partner, but Hutch interrupted him.

“Two days,” He repeated firmly.

For a second it looked as if Starsky would press Hutch to hear him out, but instead he swallowed his protest and smiled weakly, yielding to his partner’s request.

Hutch got out of the Torino. He held the door open and poked his head back in the car. “See you in the morning, buddy.”

“Night, babe,” Starsky sighed, resigned to another lonely night.

Hutch couldn’t bare the rejected tone in his love’s voice. “Starsk, I love you. You know that, don’t you? I love you and two days from now, I’m going to show you just how much.”

Starsky flushed and tried to hide his pleasure at Hutch’s reassuring words. “Love you too, Hutch. Can’t wait to show you,” he replied huskily.

Hutch closed the door and forced himself to back away from the car before he gave in to the urge to end this self-induced torment and make love to Starsky until he begged for mercy. You promised yourself you would give him time and you are going to stick to that promise, blue balls or not. He remained standing on the sidewalk long after his partner had pulled off before finally turning away and going home.

******

“Uh. . . Uh. . . Uhhhhhhh!!!”

Sweaty and drained, Starsky relaxed back into the bed. He wiped his come off his hands and stomach with the shirt he’d carelessly tossed near the end of the bed. With his sexual tension now eased, he was disappointed to discover that sleep still eluded him.

Twenty-eight days. No, that’s not right, he corrected himself. Twenty-nine now, or to be more exact; four months, twenty-nine days, he glanced at the clock on his bedside table, but stopped himself before he started counting the hours and minutes. “Cut it out and get some sleep,” he mentally scolded himself. He tossed and turned for another fifteen minutes before giving up entirely and getting out of bed. He found his blue robe and padded barefoot in the kitchen.

If he couldn’t sleep, he may as well eat.

Starsky fixed himself a club sandwich, grabbed a beer and started to sit at the table. He paused, said a quiet, ‘What the hell’ and took his midnight snack in his bedroom.

Thirty minutes later, he found himself staring again at the red dial on his clock. He groaned, grabbed the pillow from behind his head and pulled it over his face. If he didn’t get some sleep soon he knew he was going to be a grouchy bastard in the morning.

Starsky consoled himself with the knowledge that his partner–the cause of his misery–would reap the benefit of his foul mood.

That thought eased his frustration considerably, and Starsky finally drifted off to sleep.

******

“Starsssskk!!”

His mind blowing orgasm woke Hutch abruptly. Disorientated, it took him a few seconds before he realized Starsky was not in the bed with him. The sticky wetness along his groin and thighs made his boxers uncomfortable. Still somewhat confused, his hand pushed past the elastic band of his underwear and he gingerly fingered the warm come and his still hard member.

“Shit, it was a dream,” he realized, speaking aloud.

Chagrin, Hutch pulled his hand away from his spent organ and absently wiped the fluid off on the sheet. He couldn’t remember the last time he had a wet dream.

And the orgasm! Weak as a newborn, Hutch was still reeling from the intensity of it. He rested a few more minutes before attempting to get up and go to the bathroom. Rising on shaky legs, he pushed his wet boxers past his thighs and awkwardly stepped out of them before going to the john.

Still naked, Hutch emerged from the bathroom and moved silently across the floor to his closet. He removed Starsky’s leather jacket. He had cleaned the blood off the jacket as best as he could. There hadn’t been a lot on the jacket mainly because Hutch had quickly removed it after Starsky was shot to assess the damage done to his partner.

It still embarrassed him to think about Starsky seeing him sleeping with his jacket like some security blanket. Although, he realized, if he was honest with himself, that’s exactly what it was.

When he retrieved the jacket in the hospital, Starsky’s familiar scent remained strong in the leather. It comforted Hutch in a way nobody else had been able to, and he clung desperately to that jacket the way he wanted to hold his partner, but was unable to, due to the many tubes and wires connected to Starsky’s body.

Over time, with Starsky’s promising recovery, his need for the jacket lessened. But then he refused to part with it for a different reason. When his secret love for his partner became too much to endure alone, or the nightmare of Starsky’s shooting returned with a vengeance; he would once again hold the beloved leather in his arms and in the darkness of his bedroom pretend he was holding his love.

Back in bed, Hutch caressed the leather longingly, wishing it was his partner. He brought the jacket to his nose and sniffed deeply before spreading it around his pillow. Sighing softly, he turned on his side, gathered the jacket covered pillow close to his body, and buried his face in the soft leather. Sated from his orgasm and the familiar scent of his love surrounding him, Hutch was deeply asleep in minutes.

 

Day Twenty-Nine

“I’m sorry to say the Feds had nothing to offer on their surveillance tapes,” Dobey said in way of greeting his two favorite detectives the next morning.

Starsky slumped in a chair, while Hutch shut the door to Dobey’s office and leaned his long frame against it. They had asked their Captain to check and see if the Feds were still monitoring DeMarko’s movements. Starsky and Hutch hoped the Feds might have caught something useful to the Pendleton case on a surveillance camera.

“It was a long shot anyway, Capt’n,” Starsky said shrugging slightly. “If the Feds had anything useful on tape against DeMarko, they would have arrested him themselves by now.”

“So, what have you got?” Dobey grumbled.

“Not a damn thing,” Starsky replied. Hutch nodded his head in agreement.

“What about the autopsy report? Anything useful there?”

“Not unless you’re interested in knowing how many inches of a tennis racket handle can fit up a guy’s ass,” Hutch answered dryly.

“That was in the autopsy report?” Starsky asked startled.

“Didn’t you read it?” Hutch’s scolding eyes silently inquired.

Starsky shrugged, wrinkling his nose at his partner. His expression said plainly, “No since in both of us getting sick.”

Dobey’s head swerved from side to side watching the silent exchange between the two detectives in awe. “How the heck do they do that?” He wondered for the for the umpteenth time. “What about witnesses?”

“You’re kidding, right, Cap?” Starsky snorted. “No one in their right mind is going to say anything against DeMarko. It may be hard to believe, but even the lowest scumbag doesn’t want to risk his family’s safety.”

“Well, have you at least talked to DeMarko yet?” Dobey asked, frustration heavy in his voice.

“Nope,” Starsky answered, not offering to elaborate further.

“Nope? Nope?” Dobey nearly roared at his detective. He picked up an ink pen on his desk and pointed it at Starsky. “I’ve got the press sniffing at my heels waiting for some great update on this case and all you can tell me is, ‘Nope’?”

“Yep,” Starsky replied, unnerved at his Captain’s outburst.

Hutch frowned at his partner before interjecting, “He’s still on vacation. He and Mrs. DeMarko conveniently left the day before we found Pendleton. His lawyer informed us–and I quote– ‘Since there is not a warrant for his arrest, my client and his wife will return home in three days as previously scheduled, and at that time, will be happy to cooperate fully with the police. Until that time, we do not have his client’s permission to enter his home or speak to his staff while they are on his property.'” Hutch ended, mocking the lawyer’s nasal voice.

“Good ol’ Richard Marcus Carrington the third. Best scumbag lawyer money can buy,” Starsky mumbled.

Hutch ignored his partner. “Basically Captain, we’re at a standstill until DeMarko returns. Starsky and I plan to talk to the staff at his home and office as soon as we can. We can also try to talk to some of the less important members of his organization. We don’t expect them to give up any information willingly–

“But dumb as most of ’em are, maybe someone will slip up,” Starsky interrupted.

“I know it’s not much,” Hutch said, frowning at his partner. Behave. “But it’s all we got right now.”

“I know you’re doing the best you can,” Dobey relented, tossing the ink pen he had been toying with across his desk. “I really would love to catch that smug bastard,” he growled under his breath.

“You, the Chief, the Feds, the IRS, just about every detective in this department and the next.” Hutch opened the door and gestured for his partner to precede him. “Don’t worry, Captain,” he said over his shoulder. “We’ll get him. . .eventually.” He shut the door behind them.

“Who peed in your Wheaties?” Hutch asked his partner after they left Dobey’s office, on their way to the elevator. “You’ve been a grouchy bastard all morning.”

“You did,” Starsky said tightly as he pushed the button beside the elevator door. “Twenty-nine days ago.”

Hutch smiled good naturally at Starsky. “Someone sounds like they didn’t sleep well last night.” He stepped in the empty elevator and waited for his partner to join him.

“Aren’t you even a teensy bit frustrated? Horny? Anything?” Starsky asked, trying hard not to whine. He stabbed the button to the garage level with his finger.

Hutch waited for the doors to close before he crowded Starsky against the wall until Starsky could feel every inch of the blond. “What do you think?” Hutch said silkily as he bent his head and nuzzled Starsky’s neck with his lips. Thick and hard, Hutch pressed tightly against Starsky, silently proving just how badly he wanted his partner. His mouth moved from Starsky’s neck to whisper teasingly in his ear, his breath ruffling the curls resting there. “Oh, I want you, babe. Never doubt that.” He took Starsky’s slack hand and rubbed it slowly against his swollen groin. “All I do lately is wonder what sounds you make when you come.”

The elevator doors opened and without another word Hutch abruptly move away from his partner, exiting the elevator, leaving a surprised Starsky still where Hutch had pinned him against the wall.

Starsky slid in the driver’s seat of the Torino muttering a mild oath at the sudden lack of circulation he was experiencing in the front of his too tight blue jeans. Hutch glanced at him, but didn’t rise to the bait. Instead, he quirked an eyebrow at his irate partner.

Starsky was watching Hutch out of the corner of his eye and instantly scowled at the smug expression on the blond’s face. Payback is going to be a bitch, he thought, but didn’t speak aloud. He wouldn’t so much as acknowledge his partner’s presence beside him as he peeled away from the curb.

Well, he’s not grouchy anymore, Hutch thought grimly. Now he’s pissed. Nice going, Hutch. He did his best to ignore his sulking, silent partner and instead focused on the heavy noon traffic. The silence was fine with Hutch, the less they talked to each other today, the better.

They had been short and snappy with each other all morning and Hutch was sure he hadn’t help the situation any when he drove his car over to Starsky’s this morning instead of having his partner pick him up at his apartment as usual. It was an unspoken message to Starsky that Hutch was making sure they would spent this last night separately as they had the other twenty-eight.

Starsky glanced over at his partner, who was quietly watching the traffic out the side of his window. He’d had time to cool off from his earlier snit and now he was feeling bad about giving his partner the silent treatment. He may not have always been in the greatest mood, but he’d kept his promise to his partner and honored the thirty day hold on their relationship.

The first two weeks had gone by smoothly enough. They talked in dept of their feelings for each other, their hopes and plans for a future together. They flirted shamelessly with each other and spent every day together as usual.

By the third week, they were all talked out and their innocent flirting was now too detracting as they were both becoming more aware of each other as a sexual partner. They still spent every day together after work, usually hanging out at Huggy’s. The biggest change in their routine now was, rather than hanging out late at either apartment, Starsky or Hutch would tend to leave for home much earlier than usual. It had become too hard to be alone together and not make love.

The last week had been the worst. The newness of their changed relationship was passing, only to be replaced by nearly uncontrolled desire. Simply put, they were horny as hell for each other. Both were now woefully aware of each other sexually, but unfortunately, they were also bitterly frustrated, as they still had to abstain from any sexual conduct with each other. All those pent up feelings resulted in a bout of short tempers between the detectives. Starsky would be happy as hell when this day–the last day–ended and he could finally make love to (ravish) Hutch.

Keeping his eyes on the road, Starsky gingerly placed his hand on Hutch’s knee and squeezed gently. I’m sorry.

Hutch didn’t stop looking out the window, but he covered Starsky’s hand with his own and squeezed back. Me, too.

Smiling now, Starsky turned his hand over and Hutch interlocked his fingers with his partners. Their hands remained locked together for the rest of the ride to The Pits.

******

Starsky pulled the Torino in the lot behind The Pits and turned to look at Hutch, who was still holding his hand tightly. “Gonna let me go, partner?” He said, using his left hand to put the car in park.

“Never,” Hutch replied, glancing around the lot before tugging Starsky’s right hand to his mouth for a quick kiss.

“Hey! Cut it out with the touchy-feelly stuff. I already got seam imprints on my nuts,” Starsky groused, pulling his hand away and shifting uncomfortably in his seat.

“Shouldn’t wear your jeans so tight,” Hutch scolded.

“You noticed that, huh?” Starsky grinned

“You fessing up?”

“Only if it’s getting you all hot and bothered.” Starsky cut the motor and removed the key from the ignition.

Now it was Hutch’s turn to shift uncomfortably in his seat. “You have no idea what you’re doing to me, do you?”

Starsky’s smile died on his lips as he saw the raw hunger growing the blond’s blue eyes. Seeing his effect on Hutch was a powerful aphrodisiac, and Starsky longed to wield that power. Throwing caution to the wind, he leaned close and nuzzled Hutch’s neck, nudging away his shirt collar with his nose and brushing his lips against the satin skin underneath.

Hutch didn’t stop him.

Certain Hutch would halt him soon, but unable to stop pushing for more, Starsky opened his mouth and gently sucked on the tender skin.

Hutch melted. Gotta stop him. . .in a minute. . . I’ll stop him in a minute. Oh, God. It feels soooo good. . .waited for long for this. . . Hutch’s cock rose painfully in his cords and need for Starsky pushed all rational thoughts from his mind.

Unable to resist, Starsky’s hand crept in Hutch’s hair, lightly stroking the silky strands. Hoping not to break the spell that caused this magical moment, he kept his touch gentle as he put his mark on his lover.

Hutch had closed his eyes from the intense pleasure of Starsky’s touch, but now he fought to open them and put a stop to his partner’s actions before they reached a point of no return. He tried to speak, but his tongue wouldn’t cooperate. ‘Gotta stop’ kept exiting his mouth as “Mmmmm.” His entire body felt like it was in a vat of molasses. He just couldn’t seem to move very well.

Which was fine with Starsky. Growing bolder now that Hutch was moaning softly and still making no moves to stop him, Starsky removed his hand from Hutch’s hair to unbutton his partner’s shirt and slide his hand across a taunt nipple.

“Yesss,” Hutch hissed, arching into Starsky’s hand. No, no, no. . .mustn’t . . . “Don’t stop.”

Not planning on it, Blondie. Starsky tweaked the erect nipple while he continued to feed on Hutch’s neck. Like that, huh? He thought as he heard Hutch gasp at his touch. Babe, you ain’t seen nothing yet. He kissed the bright red mark he’d left on his lover’s neck, then kissed his way down Hutch’s chest until he latched on a sensitive nipple.

Hutch found his voice. “Starsk! Starsk!” His hands, which had previously been hanging weakly at his sides, surged up to firmly hold Starsky’s head in place, encouraging him to continue his sweet assault on the tender flesh.

Starsky sucked in earnest, basking in the power he held over his partner. He moved his lips slightly above the slick nipple, drew a portion of Hutch’s breast against his teeth and sucked. Slowly, he released the sensitive skin and rubbed his lips back and forth against the small red spot before gazing up at Hutch with intense sapphire eyes. “Need to kiss you, babe,” he said hoarsely.

Hutch looked at Starsky’s mouth, still wet and red from dining on his puckered flesh, and was lost. Numbly, he nodded his consent. It was too late now, anyway. Too late to deny what he’d been craving for so long. His breath caught in his throat as Starsky’s hand closed around the back of his neck and he brought Hutch’s mouth close to his. Hutch’s arms tightened around Starsky’s waist and he leaned closer, tilting his head slightly–when his eye caught a movement over Starsky’s shoulder. Muttering a loud curse, he abruptly pushed Starsky away from him.

“Wha. . .?” Starsky was still clueless that they had just been discovered. He thought Hutch was pushing him away because he’d come to his senses and was now trying to end their little digression into heaven. Becoming frustrated at an alarming rate, it was on the tip of his tongue to lash out at his partner, “What the hell is wrong now?!” But all he got out was, “Wha. . .” before he registered Hutch’s expression as one of shock, not indignation. “Shit.” Bracing himself, he looked over his shoulder to see who had caught them.

Standing outside the back door of The Pit’s, jaw slack, eyes nearly popping out their sockets, one hand dragging a large trash bag behind him while he bent to get a closer look, was non other than their good friend, Huggy Bear.

Now that he was over his initial shock of seeing his friends necking in the car like a couple of teenagers, Huggy broke out in a huge smile and waved when Starsky turned to look at him.

Starsky slumped back in his seat. “Shit,” he repeated. He wasn’t sure if he was upset over the fact they got caught or that he wouldn’t be able to finish what was promising to lead to a great orgasm. He sighed and glanced over at his partner.

Hutch was frantically buttoning his shirt with one hand while trying to put his hair in some kind of order with his other hand. Starsky shook his head sadly at his partner’s pitiful attempt to multitask. You’d have thought a bee had flown in Hutch’s shirt the way he was dancing around in his seat. Starsky would have laughed, but he knew that would only ignite his partner’s temper, so he forced his voice to remain neutral. “Calm down, Blintz. It’s only Huggy.”

Hutch glanced out the window. Huggy was heading to the trash bin, a big smile on his elfin face. He waved when he caught Hutch looking at him. Hutch blushed from his neck to his forehead. His partner’s words, meant to reassure, only fueled Hutch’s anger at them for being so careless and he lashed out at his partner, “How can you be so calm? He saw us,” Hutch hissed. “How the fuck are we going to explain this?”

“Will you calm down!” Starsky snapped. He watched Huggy pick up the bag of trash, put it in the bin, then turn to crook his finger at them before going back inside the building. “Hug wants us to come in.” He rolled his eyes at Hutch’s horrified expression. “It’s okay, I don’t think he’s upset.”

“I’m upset!” Hutch yelled.

“No shit? Never would have guessed.” Starsky opened his door.

“Where are you going?” Hutch tugged on the sleeve of Starsky’s jacket.

“To eat. I’m hungry.” Starsky glanced at Hutch’s hand. “You mind?” He asked, wiggling his arm Hutch was still holding.

Hutch released him. “How can you possibility think of food at a time like this?”

“What’s done is done, Hutch. We may as well face the music.” He turned to fully face his partner. “We screwed up, but it could have been worse, a lot worse, if you think about it. I’m just glad it was Huggy and not someone else.”

Hutch silently studied Starsky for a moment then shook his head, puzzled. His partner didn’t appear to be concerned at all. In fact, Starsky looked. . . happy. “I don’t–

Starsky held up his hand interrupting Hutch. “Look Hutch, I can tell this is going to turn into one of your long winded discussions,” he couldn’t help grinning at his partner’s sudden frown. “But lets pick this up later, after work. Right now, I’m hungry and we have to get back to work soon.” He reached over and smoothed a wayward lock of Hutch’s hair before his partner could jerk his head away. “Okay, partner?”

As much as he wanted to continue the conversation, Starsky was right. “Okay.” Hutch shook his finger at Starsky. “But we’re talking about this later.” He glanced over Starsky’s shoulder at the door Huggy entered and sighed. “Any chance of us eating anywhere else?”

“Not a one,” Starsky said, getting out of the car and shutting the door.

******

Anita was waiting for them inside the crowded bar. “Huggy saved you guys a table. I’ll bring your order out in a minute,” she said, tilting her head to the back of the bar.

“Order?” Hutch echoed.

“Yeah. Two steak sandwiches with fries. Root beer for you, Detective Starsky and a V-8 for you, sweetheart,” she smiled and winked at Hutch.

“Sounds great. Thanks, Anita.” Starsky kissed her cheek and headed to the back of the bar where Huggy was seated, waiting for them. His reluctant partner followed more slowly.

“Thanks for ordering.” Starsky sat and slid over in the booth making room for his partner. Hutch said nothing in way of greeting, he didn’t think he could force a word past his lips if his life depended on it.

“No problem. As you can see, we’re kind of busy and since you wasted a large portion of your lunch engaging in, uhh. . .other activities, I figured I had better save you some time and order for you.”

Hutch found his voice. “Since you’re busy, we wouldn’t want to hold you up, Hug. Why don’t you go on and we’ll talk later.” From the amused expression on Huggy’s face, Hutch knew he wasn’t bulging.

Huggy shook his head at Hutch. “Believe me, Blondie, if the line was out the door, and people were paying a hundred dollars a plate, my ass wouldn’t leave this seat. I’ve been waiting too long for this moment.” He waited until Anita sat the detectives’ lunches on the table and left before continuing. “So,” he looked at Starsky. “When did you finally figure out Hutch was in love with you?”

Hutch’s face turned the color of the Torino and Starsky, who had just took a sip of his root beer, spewed his soda over most of his lunch and the table top. He started coughing, and Huggy reached over the table to pat his back. “Jeezus, Hug!” Starsky wheezed. “Warn a guy the next time you decide ta get right to the point, will ya?”

“Sorry about that, shouldn’t have dropped that bomb on you while you had something in your mouth.”

“You’re talking like you already knew I was in love with Starsky,” Hutch said surprised. “I don’t recollect ever mentioning that to you, Huggy.”

“You’re right, you didn’t.” Huggy snatched a fry from Hutch’s plate. “Better eat up.”

“So?” Hutch asked.

“`Cause it’s getting cold,” Huggy nodded toward Hutch’s untouched plate.

Hutch waved his hand absently over the food. “Not that. I meant, so how did you know how I felt about Starsky?”

“Yeah, Hug,” Starsky chimed in. “How’d ya know?”

“Wasn’t hard to figure out.” Huggy helped himself to a few more of Hutch’s fries. “Remember when we were in the elevator that day Starsky was shot? After you attacked that guy posing as an orderly?” At Hutch’s nod, Huggy continued. “You were freaking me out, talking about Starsky dying, then about you getting them before they took you out. I mean, it was weird hearing you talk like you knew you were gonna die. The only thing you cared about was getting to them for what they did to Starsky, before they got to you. He pointed a fry at Hutch. “And you wasn’t sounding like you planned to arrest them either, if you get my drift.”

Hutch adverted his eyes from Huggy’s intense stare. He didn’t bother to reply to the accusation, since they both knew it was true. He risked a quick glance at his partner, who was uncharacteristically quiet throughout Huggy’s revelation.

Starsky was watching Hutch, his sandwich in his hand forgotten, as he listened to Huggy tell of the despair his partner was going through the day he was shot. After he had recovered, a lot of people felt the need to tell just him how worried they had been about Hutch. A few detectives even said they would have refused to work with him, he was so suicidal and reckless. So, he wasn’t really surprised when he heard what had transpired in the elevator. He couldn’t help nudging his partner softly with his shoulder and giving a reassuring smile. It’s okay, partner, I’d have felt the same way.

Hutch smiled back, his eyes softening at the understanding in Starsky’s eyes. He nudged Starsky’s shoulder back affectionally, before returning his attention back to Huggy. “So, you deduced that I was in love with Starsky because I was upset he was dying?” Hutch snorted. “We’re best friends, Huggy. What did you expect? I would just do nothing? Sit on my ass and watch my partner, my best friend, die and let them get away with it?” Hutch tried to keep the anger out of his voice, but by the look on Huggy’s face, he knew he wasn’t succeeding very well.

“No, of course not,” Huggy soothed. “I would have expected you to hunt them down to the ends of the earth and back if Starsky hadda died. But,” Huggy looked Hutch straight in the eye, his next words dead serious. “I wouldn’t expect any friend to kill themselves over losing a best friend. You might grieve like crazy, even enough to need medication or a head doctor. You might hit the bottle, do drugs. Hell, even loose your job. But you were planning on dying, my friend, either by their hand or your own. And you were planning on doing it soon, too. You wasn’t about to give yourself time to grieve and maybe recover. That’s how I knew. You don’t kill yourself for a friend, no matter how good it was between you. Uh-Uh.” Huggy shook his head vehemently. “Not even a best friend. . . Unless you were in love with him. Love makes you do some crazy shit.” He smiled suddenly, his eyes alight with mischief. “Like making out in broad daylight in the back alley of a bar.”

“Man’s gotta point,” Starsky said, picking up his sandwich and taking a healthy bite.

Hutch wasn’t sure what to say next since everything Huggy said was true. “I guess I didn’t do such a great job hiding my feelings, huh?”

“Naw, but that’s okay. You were upset. Hell, we all were. I’m just glad Gunther didn’t get his wish.”

“Me, too,” Starsky joked, taking another bite of his food. “By the way, this sandwich is awesome, Huggy.”

“Of course.” Huggy pushed Hutch’s plate–still untouched–closer to the blond detective. “Come on, Hutch,” he coaxed. “Eat up.”

Hutch picked up a fry. “How do you feel about this–about us?”

“The way I’ve always felt about you. You two are my friends–my good friends.” Huggy frowned at Hutch until he stopped playing with the fry and popped it in his mouth. “I’m happy for you. How’d you think I’d feel?”

“Wasn’t sure, Hug. A lot of people wouldn’t approve,” Starsky said.

“Then they’re not your friends.”

“My thoughts exactly,” Starsky replied to Huggy, but his eyes were on his partner.

“Anyone else know, besides me?”

“No,” Hutch said. “You’re the first.” And by the look my partner just gave me, not the last.

“Well,” Huggy drawled out devilishly. “Let me give you a little advice, my man. Next time you might want to tell them first, instead of demonstrating, know what I mean?”

“You’re not ever going to let us live this down, are you?” Hutch said sadly.

“Are you kidding me?” Huggy grinned. “I don’t think I ever had anything this good on the two of you. I plan to milk it for all it’s worth.”

“I was afraid of that,” Hutch groaned.

Huggy looked expectantly at Starsky. “Well?”

“What?”

“When did you figure it out about Hutch?”

“Oh, that.” Starsky smiled. About twenty-eight days ago?”

“Twenty-nine,” Hutch corrected, trying hard not to laugh. He knew Starsky was well aware of the date.

“Yeah, that’s right. Twenty-nine. Almost forgot.”

“I just bet you did,” Hutch replied dryly.

Starsky couldn’t resist teasing his partner a little. “Seems to me someone else forgot the date when we were in the car.”

Hutch felt his face heat up. “That’s not fair. It was the only time, and you– you didn’t help any!” He glared at his grinning partner.

“I didn’t come up with this stupid ass idea–you did. Not my fault you had trouble sticking to it.”

“Whoa!” Huggy tapped the table with his hand. “Both of you back to your corners,” he teased. “What stupid ass idea of Hutch’s are we talking about now?”

Hutch looked menacingly at Huggy. “What do you mean by ‘now’?”

Starsky patted his partner’s shoulder gently. “Come on, Hutch. You gotta admit, you can come up with some real winners.”

“Like what?”

“Well, there was that time you drank that soup then played hide and go seek.”

“The game was your idea!”

“Yeah, but I didn’t get sick and refuse to stop the game, did I?”

“Don’t forget Pine Lake,” Huggy added.

“That wasn’t my fault. How was I suppose to know a cult of Satan worshipers were there?”

“Belle.” Starsky sighed. “Or any other car you’ve owned.”

“What’s wrong with my car?”

“Is he serious?” Starsky asked Huggy.

“I’ll handle this one for you, bro,” Huggy held out his right hand and extended a finger each time he listed all the problems Hutch’s cars– past and present– caused him. He stopped when he ran out of fingers. “Not to mention, that car of yours is possessed. Starts only when it wants to, cuts off at a drop of a hat. Do I need to go on?”

“She’s just temperamental,” Hutch sulked, defending his prized possession.

“Woman are temperamental, Hutch, not cars. You call those lemons. So,” Huggy said to Starsky, pointedly ignoring Hutch. “What’s the latest idea to go down in Hutchinson History?”

“Hutch thought it would be a good idea for us to hold off on, you know, being a couple until we’ve had time to think about what the relationship would mean.”

“If you truly love each other then the rest is bullshit,” Huggy argued.

Starsky looked pointedly at Hutch. See? Huggy understands what I’ve been saying all along.

Hutch ignored his partner. “Huggy, this is so new to us. I mean, we’ve never had this kind of relationship before. I just wanted to give Starsk some time to think it over, that’s all.”

“Why don’t you start at the beginning,” Huggy cajoled. “When did Starsky start to feel the same way?”

Hutch looked to his partner for his permission to continue.

Starsky said smoothly, “I saw him sleeping and everything just clicked. It was the day I got reinstated to active duty.”

“So that would explain your frequent tiffs lately. I was wondering what was going on.”

Huggy started laughing. “Here I was worried you were having problems working together, and all this time you were horny? For each other?” He couldn’t stop laughing. “So when does this period of courtship end and you two, uh. . . get busy?”

“Tomorrow,” Hutch said, frowning at Huggy. “It’s not funny, Huggy. This has been hard on both Starsk and I.”

Starsky glared at Hutch. “Bad choice of words,” he said the same time Huggy dissolved into more laughter.

“Heard anything on the streets about Theo Pendleton, Hug?” Starsky asked, intentionally changing the subject before his partner throttled Huggy.

Huggy sobered immediately. “You are shitting me, right? No one in their right mind would give up anything on DeMarko. Man, you know his rep.” Huggy shook his head. “I ain’t even got enough nerve to ask any questions. Want my advice, Starsky?” Huggy was serious now. “Let it go. Dude was asking for it.”

“Come on, Hug. You know we don’t work that way.”

“Demarko’s untouchable, Starsky. People are too afraid of him. No one wants to get involved, and to be honest, I can’t blame them.”

“Ya see,” Starsky pointed at Huggy while looking at his partner. “It’s that kind of thinking that’s allowed DeMarko to get away with so much crap as it is!” Starsky waved his hand in the air over his nearly empty plate. “The hell with what everyone thinks, he’ll fuck up one day and you better believe we’ll be there to bask in the afterglow.”

Huggy and Hutch exchanged amused glances at Starsky’s sudden zealous outburst.

Disgruntled, Starsky made a face at his partner and frowned at Huggy. “All I’m saying is a little faith in us would be nice,” he ended in a small hurt voice.

“Please forgive me for doubting your never ending quest for truth, justice and the American way, Captain America. So, what you got on him?” Huggy fought to keep the smile off his face.

Starsky flushed slightly and grumbled under his breath, “Not a damn thing.”

Hutch jostled Starsky’s shoulder gently with his own. “Don’t fret, C.A. One day, we’ll get him. We always do.”

Huggy laughed. “You know, Hutch, you sound sort of like that cartoon character. . . what’s his name?” Huggy’s face bunched up in concentration. “Oh, yeah!” He snapped his fingers in rapid succession. “Dudley Dooright.”

Starsky snorted. “Well, Hutch is from Minnesota.”

“Mounties are from Canada, Starsk,” Hutch intoned dryly.

“Ya still look like him,” Starsky grumbled.

“Acts like him, too,” Huggy chimed in.

Starsky finished his sandwich, fries and was polishing off his root beer. Hutch had, so far, consumed one french fry. Starsky checked his watch. “You’d better get Anita to wrap that up for you, babe. We gotta get back.”

Hutch nodded and Huggy raised his hand to get Anita’s attention.

“Hey, `Nita. Bag this up for Hutch, okay?” Huggy said when she came to the table.

“No problem. You wasn’t hungry, sugar?” She put her hand on Hutch’s shoulder and rubbed gently.

“No. But I’ll eat it later,” Hutch promised.

“You be sure and do that, sugar. Wouldn’t want you wasting away.” She picked up Hutch’s plate and moved to the bar, putting an extra wiggle in her walk.

“I think Anita’s sweet on you, Hutch,” Starsky teased.

“Maybe I’d better tell her you’re already taken. . . or should I wait til after tomorrow night?” Huggy added mischievously.

Hutch had enough. “Both of you,” He pointed his finger threateningly at his friends, “Cut it out. Now!” Hutch got up, and with as much dignity as he could muster, went to the bar to pick up his food, leaving his friends behind.

“Was it something I said?” Huggy asked Starsky innocently.

******

“Man, I’m beat.” Starsky yawned while tipping his chair back on two legs. “Whaddya say we call it a day?”

“Sounds good to me.” Hutch scribbled down a few more notes before closing his notepad and placing it in his desk drawer. He picked up the report he had finished typing earlier. “I’ll just run this in Dobey’s office and we can go.” He pulled his jacket off the back of his chair and laid it on his desk beside the food he’d gotten earlier at Huggy’s.

“I’m gonna go grab a candy bar out the machine. I’ll meet you at the elevator,” Starsky said, getting up out of his chair and heading for the door.

“Okay.” Hutch went in Dobey’s office. His captain had left earlier for a departmental meeting. He’d given the impression it wouldn’t last long, but Hutch guessed it had because Dobey had been gone all evening. Hutch was glad they were leaving before he returned. Dobey hatred meetings and Hutch was sure he probably didn’t get a chance to eat, which meant he would be in a seriously bad mood when he got back. He laid the reports on Dobey’s desk, arranging them so his captain would be sure to see them when he came in.

Still in the office with the door halfway closed, Hutch didn’t see a tired, irritated Dobey drag himself in the department. Dobey was starving. He had planned to eat lunch after the meeting, but it had lasted much longer than he had anticipated. All he wanted now was to get to his office where he thought there was an emergency candy bar still hidden in the back of his desk. It was past time for him to leave so he figured the candy bar would hold him until he got home. Edith should have dinner almost ready by now.

On his way to his office, Dobey’s eyes caught sight of the sandwich and fries neatly wrapped in plastic on Hutch’s desk. He paused, his mouth watering at the sight of the food so tantalizingly near. Dobey looked around for the detectives. Maybe they left and forgot it. Would be a shame to let it go to waste. He looked around the department again. Only a few detectives were present at the moment and, so far, no one had noticed him there. He eyed the sandwich once more, this time noting Hutch’s jacket resting beside it. Hutch wouldn’t leave his jacket, he must be here somewhere. Dobey could feel the sandwich calling to him. Powerless, he quickly snatched the food off the desk.

Almost immediately after obtaining his prize, Dobey saw Hutch step out of his office. But before the blond detective looked his way, and caught his captain red-handed, he was stopped by Bobby Coleman. While Hutch was being distracted by Coleman, Dobey darted out the door before he was discovered.

After promising Coleman he would buy a few candy bars to support his son’s school band, Hutch headed back to his desk to gather his things. He picked up his jacket, then looked over his desk. Puzzled, he walked around the desk searching high and low until he made a complete inspection of the area. Baffled, he looked again at the spot on his desk where his lunch once resided.

“Where’s my food?”

******

“Well, don’t look at me. I didn’t take it,” Starsky repeated for the third time as he opened the door to his apartment.

“I don’t get it.” Hutch, still bemoaning his lost lunch, followed his partner inside. “Besides you, Dobey’s the only other person I’d consider, but he wasn’t there all evening.”

“Sure ya didn’t leave it in the fridge in the lounge?”

Hutch shook his head. “No. I’m positive it was on the desk beside my jacket.”

Starsky patted Hutch’s shoulder then headed for the kitchen. “Don’t fret, Blintz. I’ll throw ya together something,” he said, opening the refrigerator door. He looked on the upper shelves then bent down to check the bin before sighing softly. “Uh. . . wanna order pizza?”

“Didn’t buy groceries yet, huh?” Hutch deducted correctly.

“It was on my to-do list,” Starsky grumbled, closing the door.

Hutch checked his watch. “That’s okay. I hadn’t planned on staying long, anyway. I”ll just grab something on the way home.”

“Pizza would be here in thirty minutes,” Starsky said reasonably, trying to coax Hutch into staying longer. “Besides, I thought we had some things to clear up.” He looked pointedly at Hutch. “From earlier today.”

Hutch thought about it for a minute. He could stay for a couple of hours and still have time to get to an earlier appointment he had made. “Okay, I’ll stay for a little while, but I’m leaving after we eat.” He raised an eyebrow at his partner and shook his finger knowingly at Starsky. “And you can drop the innocent act. I know what you’re trying to do.”

“What?” Starsky tried to look confused at Hutch’s insinuation, but gave up when he realized his partner wasn’t buying it. “Okay, I admit it. . . guilty as charged.” He moved to stand closer to Hutch. “Can’t blame a guy for trying.” He smiled weakly and reached out to caress the mark he’d left on Hutch’s neck.

Hutch felt his insides start to tingle at the soft touch and allowed himself a minute to indulge in that wonderful feeling before moving away from his partner on the pretense of going to call in the pizza. Starsky wasn’t fooled for a minute. He knew Hutch was affected by his touch and was trying to escape before things started to heat up. You’re not getting away that easy, partner.

Hutch picked up the phone and paused to look at Starsky. “Vegetarian okay with you?”

“Can we walk on the wild side and add one meat?” Starsky pleaded as he made his way over to the sofa.

“When it comes to food you live and dwell on the wild side, Starsk,” Hutch replied dryly. He dialed the number to their favorite take out pizza place, Mario’s.

“Please?” Starsky put on the famous ‘puppy eyed’ expression he knew would weaken his partner.

Hutch sighed loudly before speaking in the phone. “Yeah, hello?” Pause. “Yes, I would like to place and order, please.” Pause. “For delivery. I would like a large. . .” Hutch paused at Starsky’s sudden frantic hand motions from the sofa. “I’m sorry, could you make that an extra-large,” he amended.

Starsky nodded, stopping the sign language.

“. . .Vegetarian. . .”

Starsky frowned, puppy expression back in place.

Hutch rolled his eyes. “Could you add pepperoni to that, please?”

Starsky smiled, satisfied. He picked up the TV guide hoping there was a good monster movie on later.

“I know that wouldn’t make it vegetarian.” Pause. “The extra charge is fine.” Hutch waited for the girl to repeat his order and give him the total before giving her their address. He hung up the phone. “They must not be too busy, she said the pizza would be here in thirty minutes.” He walked over and sat on the couch beside Starsky “What?” He asked at the peculiar look Starsky was giving him.

“You love me,” Starsky said happily.

“Nut, I’ve always loved you. What brought this on?”

“Dunno. Maybe it’s because you put pepperoni on your veggie pizza for me.” At Hutch’s disbelieving stare, Starsky added defensively, “It’s the little things that count.”

Hutch couldn’t help smiling at his partner’s words. It was so easy to love this man. “I’m curious,” He said, thinking back to their discussion in the Torino, “Why wasn’t you upset at Huggy catching us?”

Starsky turned, bringing his leg up on the sofa as he faced Hutch. “I never had to hide a lover before or lie to the people I care about that I’m in love with someone. I don’t like it, Hutch. I mean, I know we have to keep it a secret, but I think–I know–we can trust a few people.” He looked steadfastly at Hutch. “And I’m not gonna lie to Ma. If we’re going to do this–be a couple–I’m telling her.”

Hutch took Starsky’s hand and squeezed it gently. “I understand, Starsk. And if you want to tell your Mom, it’s okay with me. I wish. . .I wish I could tell mine,” he said softly.

“It’s okay, Hutch. I understand why ya can’t. Honestly, It don’t matter to me.” He pulled his hand, still in Hutch grasp, to his lips and brushed his lips against his partner’s knuckles.

“So,” Hutch said nervously, “Huggy and your mother. Anyone else?”

“Maybe Dobey.” At Hutch’s expression, Starsky amended quickly, “Not right away. But I was hoping some day we could tell ’em.” He smiled reassuringly at Hutch. “I promise not to tell anyone else without us first discussing it together, okay?”

Hutch nodded, relieved. “Okay, partner.”

Starsky smiled devilishly and kissed the inside of Hutch’s palm, letting his tongue taste the salty skin. “Day will be over soon. Sure you still wanna wait til tomorrow?” He licked his lips suggestively.

Hutch’s stomach growled ominously and he laughed, relieved at the distraction. “I think I better eat something first. My stomach sounds dangerous.” He pulled his hand away and got up, heading back to the kitchen. “Got any peanut butter?”

******

A hour and a half later, they finished the pizza. Now stuffed, they rested on the sofa idly watching the news on the TV. Starsky had unbuttoned his jeans earlier to make room for the extra slices of pizza he’d consumed and now he stretched out, pulling his shirt up on his chest, absently rubbing his stomach.

Hutch’s eyes followed the movement of those strong hands caressing the firm abdomen. Fascinated, he watched Starsky’s fingers stroke his stomach, gently disturbing the baby fine hair that feathered his chest. Hutch’s gaze followed the line of downy hair until it disappeared into the waistband of his stone-washed jeans.

Starsky was all muscle and oh, so masculine. So strong. Hutch immediately felt an inexplicable clenching in his stomach, a tightening that worked it’s way down deep in his groin. He quickly looked away, but it was too late. His dick was hard enough to cut glass. He shifted uncomfortably and glanced at Starsky to see if he noticed his too-hard- to-conceal erection.

Starsky noticed. He had counted on Hutch getting aroused at seeing some skin. Starsky was planning on making love. . . and he planned on doing it soon. His hand left his chest and snaked below his waistband to caress his growing erection. He knew Hutch was watching and he stroked himself until he heard his partner’s strangled groan. He met Hutch’s eyes, heavy with desire, with his own lust filled gaze.

“Starsk…”

“I want you, Hutch, and I’m tired of waiting.” Starsky said seriously.

Hutch swallowed hard.

“You gonna make me beg?” Starsky asked quietly.

“Starsk. . .” Hutch abruptly got up and moved away from the sofa. “Look,” he brushed a hand nervously through his hair. “I want you, but I have to leave. There’s something I gotta do, before we–before we do this.” He headed for the door, no longer trusting his emotions. He had to get out of there.

Starsky followed close behind. “What’s going on, Hutch?” He asked quietly.

Hutch turned, his hand on the door. “Nothing, babe. But, there’s something I gotta do, something important.” He opened the door. “I’m asking you to understand why I got to do this.”

“Do what?” Starsky asked mystified.

Hutch walked out the door and turned, facing his partner. “This,” he said closing door firmly against his partner.

Starsky rested his head against the door. He could feel Hutch still on the other side. He instinctively knew this was no longer about waiting until tomorrow, something else was going on. He didn’t know exactly why Hutch was leaving, or acting so strange, but he didn’t care anymore. His heart was screaming for his love to stay. “Come back, Hutch.” His pride was gone. “Please,” he begged gently.

Hutch’s hand automatically went to the knob on the door. His hand shook, the need to comfort Starsky strong. Still he hesitated. He had to go. Summoning every cell of strength he possessed, he took his hand off the knob and leaned his forehead against the door where he knew his partner’s head rested on the other side. When he spoke, his voice was so thick with emotion and regret, he barely recognized it. “Get some sleep, Starsk. God help you, you’ll need it.”

At Hutch’s abrupt retreat, Starsky turned, braced his back against the door and slid down to sit on the floor. He bent his knees up to his stomach and wrapped his arms around his legs.

******

Hutch gazed up as he passed the tall wrought iron gates. No matter how many times he walked between them, they never ceased to impress him with their sinister beauty.

As usual it was eerily quiet No people talking, no birds singing. . . just dead air.

All cemeteries were like that, he supposed.

He made his way quickly up the hill, turning left past the stone angel kneeling above the graves of two young children. Her great wings were spread wide and curved inward at the tips, as though embracing the little ones resting below her. Sometimes he’d stop and ponder what history surrounded the deaths of children so young, but he didn’t have much time today. Already the light was fading from the sky and although he wasn’t really afraid, graveyards were creepy, especially at night.

He followed the path until it forked, then he turned right. He stopped when he saw a familiar figure kneeling by a grave, disposing of flowers now brown and withered. The figure turned upon hearing him approach.

“Hiya, Hup,” Eddie Hoyle said cheerfully.

“Hello, Eddie,” Hutch responded warmly.

“Yer coming to visit mighty late, Hup.” Eddie got up and brushed off the dirt from his knees.

“I got held up.” Hutch looked around appreciatively. “The place is really looking great since you took over the job as caretaker.”

Eddie’s chest puffed with pride. “I like it here, Hup. I can’t think you and Starpy enough for getting me this job.”

Hutch smiled. Eddie had inadvertently got involved with a real nasty pair of bail bonders and after the case was solved he was out of a job–not to mention nearly getting himself murdered. He and Starsky helped him get this job a few months after Lola Turkel was arrested. In his late forties, the recovering alcoholic had once been a regular occupant in the city drunk tank. But after the Konig Case, he’d joined AA and, as far as Hutch knew, Eddie was still clean.

The cemetery–an older one–was beautiful, but in dire need of care and upkeep. Now it blossomed under Eddie’s loving care. Hutch thought the two seemed good for each other.

Hutch reached in his pocket and pulled out a fifty dollar bill. “I need a favor, Eddie.”

“Anything, Hup.” He waved his hand at the money offered to him. “Ah don’t need your money, Hup. I’d do it for nuthing. If it weren’t for you and Starpy. . .I owe you, Hup.”

“No, Eddie. You don’t owe us anything.” Hutch held out the money. “I. . . I won’t be coming around as much anymore and I. . . I need someone to. . .” Putting words to what he felt he must do was hard and Hutch struggled to keep the emotion out of his voice.

“Look after her?” Eddie finished for him.

Hutch nodded gratefully. “Yeah. You know, put some flowers on her grave every now and then. That’s what the money’s for.” He held it out again. “I was hoping you’d look after her for me.”

“Sure, Hup.” Eddie took the cash and stuck it in his front pocket. “I can do that.”

“Thanks, Eddie. It means a lot to me.” He looked up and noticed how dark the sky was becoming. The walkway lamps were starting to come on. “I’d better get going.”

“See ya, Hup. Tell Starpy ‘hi’ for me.”

“Will do.” Hutch promised and moved quickly along the path until he came to another fork. He turned right and walked around a tall stone cross. Behind it, almost hidden from view, nestled in a small corner, was her grave.

Hutch knew Starsky was unaware of just how much he visited Gillian. He’d started coming often after Starsky was shot. He’d felt so lost and helpless during that time, worrying constantly about every little thing centering around his partner. First, if Starsky would live, then if he would return to work, and later if he would discover Hutch had somehow managed to fall in love with him. During those tense times, Hutch had found no consolation in his friends, though they tried hard to comfort him. And never having been one to go to church, he felt uncomfortable confiding in the clergy. But eerily enough, when visiting Gillian’s grave one day soon after Starsky was shot, he’d found solace just sitting beside her grave and talking to her.

Now he squatted in front of her small headstone and tenderly brushed off the few leaves that had collected around the base of the stone from the branches of the tree overhead. “Hey, baby,” He said softly before sitting gingerly on the ground beside the cold stone.

“There’s so much I want to say Gillian.” He paused to pick up a leaf and twirl it between his fingers. “I loved you so much. I never thought I would ever love anyone that way again.” He hesitated a moment before continuing. “But. . . I do.” Idly he folded the leaf in half. “Bet you’ll never guess who,” he chuckled softly before becoming serious again. “Or maybe, maybe you already know.” The leaf crumpled in his hand. Absently, he picked up another one. “I love Starsky, Gillian, with all my heart. And after tonight we’re going to have a life together. . . if he’ll still have me.” He took a deep breath. “I won’t be by anymore. It’s time. . . it’s time I moved on.”

He stood up slowly, absently brushing the dirt and grass from the seat of his pants, before continuing. “I want you to know you’ll always be in my heart and I’ll never forget you.” For a long time he stood there staring at the headstone of the woman he once loved. Memories of the time they had together played in his mind like a home movie and he found himself smiling at the images of them together happy and so in love. But all too quickly, the images faded away and he found himself once again staring at her bare headstone.

He wished now that he’d brought flowers.

Hutch bent down and fingered her name tenderly. “I love you, Gillian. I always will.” He felt a tightening in his chest that was hard to ignore and a feeling of great sadness surrounded him that he wasn’t entirely sure was his own. Quickly, he stood and walked away without looking back.

It was time to move on.

******

It was after ten o’clock when Hutch finally got home. Belle had decided to cut off four blocks from his apartment, forcing him to jog the rest of the way home. He sighed. Merle was right. It was time he sold the car and got something more reliable. But not anything Merle had in mind, Hutch swore as he shed his sweaty clothes by the door and headed immediately to the bathroom. “Maybe another LTD.”

After showering, dressing and fixing a snack, Hutch pondered his next move. Initially, after leaving the cemetery, he’d planned to come home, shower, pack a small bag of necessities, return to Starsky’s place and patch things up, then make love to his partner until Starsky couldn’t see straight. Now with his car disabled, he would have to come up with another plan. The way he’d left earlier, he wasn’t sure Starsky would be happy to hear from him now, let alone drive over here tonight. Hutch snorted. Knowing Starsky, he would make him stew here alone all night just to make a point.

Hutch looked at the clock for the tenth time in the last fifteen minutes. One hour before midnight. One hour before day thirty. Hutch pushed himself abruptly off the couch.

“Fuck this,” he muttered to himself as he picked up the phone. He hoped Starsky was still awake because he was about to get some company. Hutch wasn’t waiting any longer. He dialed the number and waited impatiently for his friend to pick up.

“I’m closed, Hutch. On my way home.”

“How did you know it was me, Huggy?” Hutch asked surprised.

“I know what day it is,” Huggy answered laconically. “One hour to go before you two screw yourselves to death. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to know what you need.” Huggy paused a little dramatically before continuing. “That sorry excuse you call a car won’t start again and you need a ride. Right?” He ended smugly.

Hutch swallowed back the angry retort on the tip of his tongue and forced his tone to remain neutral. “It’s for a good cause, Hug.”

“Why don’t you just call Starsky? I’m sure he’ll come over.”

Hutch paused before replying. He didn’t want to discuss personal matters with his friend at the moment. “He might be a little pissed at me,” he hedged.

“Think so? Can’t imagine why.” Huggy said sarcastically. “You only turned him down for twenty-nine days straight.”

“You know better than that, Hug. I had to be sure. I wanted him thinking with his head, not his–you know what I’m trying to say.”

“Yeah,” Huggy eased off, taking pity on his friend. Hutch was starting to sound frazzled. “I hear ya–still don’t agree with you, though.”

“So?”

“So what?”

“Are you going to give me a ride, or not?” Hutch asked exasperated.

“Yeah, I’m gonna give ya a ride, Blondie. Be there in twenty.” Huggy hung up without saying goodbye.

******

“Problems, my blond brother?”

“Why’d you think that, Hug?”

“Probably because you haven’t said a word to me beyond a grunt since you got in the car.” Huggy parked his white Caddy across the street from Starsky’s place and cut the engine. He turned in his seat and looked questionably at his silent passenger. “You nervous, Hutch?”

Hutch felt his face warm. “N-No.”

Huggy grinned at the blush rapidly covering Hutch’s face and neck. He reached around to the back seat and retrieved an album laying there. “Here, maybe this’ll help,” he said, holding album out to Hutch.

Hutch read the album cover, then quirked an eyebrow at Huggy. “Teddy Pendergrass?”

“Yep. The King of love songs. This man’s. . .” Huggy tapped the album cover repeatedly with his finger in his excitement. “. . . songs have women–fine women, mind you–throwing their panties at him when he’s singing on the stage. Their panties!”

Huggy shook his head in wonder at such an accomplishment, while Hutch tried to push the gag he was forming back down his throat. The image of smelly panties being thrown at him while he was singing was turning his stomach. “I guess just clapping because you like his music is considered a little weak, huh?” Hutch shuddered involuntarily before asking, “I’m curious, Huggy. Have you seen ‘The King’ in concert?”

Huggy grinned. “You bet. Witnessed it myself. Hell, the girl I was with? For a second, I thought she was gonna do it.” Huggy shook his head, smiling at the memory.

“You liked the concert?”

“Cat’s a damn genius, Hutch.”

“So tell me, did you throw your underwear on the stage?” Hutch asked tongue-in-cheek.

Huggy paused in his tirade of hero worship long enough to make a face a Hutch. “Go ahead and laugh,” he said disapprovingly. “But, dig this. After the concert, I had the best sex I ever had. She might’ve wanted to throw her panties at him, but it was my world she rocked.” He patted the album lovingly. “When I want to get it on with my girl, I just put on a little ‘baby making music’ and she’s all mine.”

“Baby making music, huh?” Hutch repeated amusingly.

Huggy snickered. “Well. . . in your case. . .”

“Don’t go there, Hug,” Hutch warned quickly.

“Never planned on it,” Huggy promised.

Hutch waved his hand at the album resting between them. “What am I going to look like going in Starsky’s apartment with a record album of steamy love songs under my arm at this hour?”

Huggy snorted. “Same way you gonna look going up without it. Desperate.”

“Hey, I got a right to be desperate. I’ve been waiting a long time for this,” Hutch huffed, defending himself.

“Then why you wasting time talking to me instead of breaking your neck getting up those stairs and getting busy?”

Hutch could feel his face heating up again. “This conversation is starting to make me feel really uncomfortable, Hug.”

“Well, my man, I’m tired and I hear my bed calling my name.” Huggy rubbed his face, stifling a yawn. “I know you may find this hard to believe, Hutch, but everyone is not getting laid tonight. Some of us are actually going to go to sleep and go to work tomorrow.”

Hutch smiled weakly, then shifted his gaze to look out the window at Starsky’s apartment. Huggy couldn’t help noticing he still didn’t make a move to leave the Caddy.

“What are you scared of, Hutch? You know he’s gonna say ‘yes’.” Huggy chuckled. “Hell, he’s been saying yes for twenty-nine days.” He gave Hutch’s shoulder a brief nudge to get his attention. “Actually, I was surprised the Torino wasn’t outside your place when I got there. Starsky was always the impatient one, figured he’d be at your place naked and ready one minute after midnight.”

“Like I said earlier, he might be a little mad at me.”

“Why?” Tight as they were, Huggy couldn’t imagine anything that would cause enough of a rift to separate them for long, especially tonight.

“I. . .I may have hurt his pride.” Hutch admitted grudgingly. “He won’t make the first move now. He’ll wait for me to come to him.”

“Ahh. . . I see.” Huggy paused a beat. “Well, in that case. . .” He reached in the back seat again and fumbled around a bit. “Here,” he said, bringing up a tacky bouquet of fake plastic flowers. “You can beg his forgiveness on bended knee.”

Hutch glanced over his shoulder at the back seat, afraid of what else Huggy might have lurking there, before looking disbelievingly at his friend and the plastic flowers in his hand. “Unbelievable,” he said, shaking his head.

“You gotta stay prepared, my man.” Huggy held out the flowers, shaking them gently. “If anything else, he’ll be too busy laughing at you to stay mad.”

Hutch waved off the flowers. Thanks, but I think maybe I’ll take my chances, sans flowers and album.” He let out a big sigh, turned and put his hand on the door handle.

Huggy couldn’t help noticing Hutch acted like a man on his way to a funeral. You worry too much, Blondie, you always did. Hutch’s needless anxiety pulled at Huggy’s heartstrings. “Hutch?”

Hutch paused and looked back over his shoulder. “Yeah?”

“It’ll be okay.” Huggy was serious now. He tilted his head toward Starsky’s apartment. “Remember who that is waiting for you. Not just your lover, my brother, but your best friend. You two. . . you always had something real special between you. That ain’t never gonna change, Hutch. You gotta know that.”

Hutch stared at Huggy in amazement. After the album and gaudy flowers, never in a million years would he have thought Huggy would suddenly sprout words of wisdom that not only made sense, but actually helped. Slowly, Hutch unfolded his million-dollar-smile and nodded his head in agreement. “I hear you.” He got out, held the door opened and stuck his head back in the car. “Thanks for everything, Hug. Not just for the ride, but. . . well, you know, right?”

“Yeah, Hutch. I know.” Huggy made a shooing motion with his hand. “Now go.” Huggy reached for the key and started the engine just in case Hutch’s cold feet returned.

But Hutch shut the door and continued across the street without looking back. Huggy waited until he disappeared from sight before pulling away from the curb. Smiling, Huggy couldn’t help whistling to the tune of Rod Stewart’s ‘Tonight is the Night’ as he headed home.

Hutch automatically reached in his pocket, then paused when his fingers wrapped around the key to Starsky’s apartment. On second thought, he decided, removing his hand, it might not be a good idea to let himself in this time of night. Starsky was, after all, armed and he wasn’t expecting Hutch to return tonight. Wouldn’t be good getting shot at, especially tonight.

Ill at ease, he stood staring at the front door pondering his next move. “Admit it, Hutch. You’re nervous.” he said miserably.

Hutch tried not to worry that Starsky might be a little miffed at him right now. “Oh, well,” he decided jokingly, trying to calm his nerves. “If he’s mad, I’ll just handcuff him to the bed and make love to him til he forgives me–or passes out.”

His cock stirred at the thought of kissing Starsky and touching him as a lover would. He had waited so long for this and now he was impatient to feel Starsky in his arms–to hear the sounds he made when he came. The arousal he’d been fighting all day strained painfully against his pants, refusing to be ignored.

“Great, you’d think as nervous as I am I’d have trouble getting it up,” Hutch said abashed. “How am I suppose to bare my heart to the man I love if all he’ll be able to notice is my cock waving up at him?” His cock stubbornly refused to wilt at his master’s scolding. Evidently, when Starsky was involved, Hutch concluded, anything was possible.

Trying to calm down his out of control libido and the butterflies dancing in his stomach, Hutch took several deep calming breaths before tapping lightly on the apartment door. He tried not to dwell on the significance of the moment–that once that front door opened, his life would be changed forever.

******

The not so light tapping on his front door woke Starsky from a restless sleep. Looking at the clock on his night stand as he hauled himself out of bed, he wondered who in the hell was knocking on his door. After noting the time, he answered his own question–Hutch.

It was twelve-thirty. Day thirty.

Starsky’s pride had been bruised a little at their last meeting and for a moment he debated on just ignoring his partner and going back to bed. It would serve Hutch right to make him wait for once. But even as the thought entered his mind, Starsky grudgingly headed to the door. He knew his partner. Hutch wouldn’t leave without first talking to Starsky and if he didn’t answer soon, Hutch would just use his key anyway.

Starsky paused at the door and contemplated letting Hutch use his key to come in, then accidently mistake him for a prowler and shoot him–in the foot of course, he wouldn’t really want to seriously hurt him.

Starsky nixed the idea almost as soon as he thought of it, since he would have to be the one to take care of the invalid.

The knock sounded again, louder this time, impatient. Starsky sighed and opened the door before Hutch woke his neighbors. “It’s late, Hutch and I’m still mad at you.” Starsky turned away from the door without looking at his partner, intending to go back to bed.

He should have known Hutch wouldn’t stand for that.

Hutch shut the door and grabbed Starsky’s arm in one fluid motion. “I’ll have your answer now, Starsk.”

Starsky tried to shake loose, but Hutch’s hold was firm and adamant. “I’m not in the mood to give it to ya now,” Starsky said, halfheartedly trying to sound put out.

“Starsk, look at me.” Hutch tugged gently on Starsky’s arm.

Starsky sighed and lifted his eyes to meet Hutch’s persistent gaze. The sky blue eyes Starsky loved and knew so well were pleading now. “I’m begging now, love,” Hutch said, his voice horse with barely contained emotion. “I won’t like it, but I’ll get on my knees if I have to. Say you’ll be mine, Starsk. I love you so much.”

Starsky melted. Hutch was a proud man and Starsky knew it took a great deal for him to make such an offer. “You fight dirty, Hutch.”

Hutch grinned. Starsky’s voice was playful, which meant he wasn’t really mad. “Is it working?”

Starsky shook his head, resigned. “I can see I’m gonna be a pushover in this relationship.”

“Feelings mutual. You ever gonna say ‘yes’ so I can finally kiss you?”

Starsky laughed. Now, you’re impatient!”

“Starsk!”

Starsky pulled Hutch tightly against him. “Yes, Hutch. It’s always been yes, you mule-headed, stubborn, righteous partner of mine.”

“You won’t regret it, Gordo.” Hutch squeezed Starsky back so hard he yelped. “I already regret it,” Starsky grumbled. “Making me wait thirty days.”

Hutch tightened his hold again, causing Starsky to shout out, “Okay, already! I love you and I’m all yours, babe. Now lay one on me.” Starsky puckered up, laughter dancing in his sapphire eyes.

For an endless moment they simply stared at each other. Starsky’s eyes, still alight with mischief, captivated Hutch and he lingered longer, unwilling to break the tension crackling in the air between them, savoring the moment.

No longer needing to contain his feelings for this unique man, Hutch bared his soul to his partner.

He’d never felt so vulnerable.

Starsky stood transfixed. Like a deer staring into the headlights of an oncoming semi, he was powerless to move. The teasing pucker he’d presented to Hutch dissolved, forgotten. Suddenly, he found himself drowning in a sea of blue as he absorbed the words Hutch was saying with his eyes. Never before had Hutch allowed Starsky this close and he felt himself being taken in, merging with Hutch–becoming one. He wondered if his physical body would still be standing here when this was over or would he simply disappear, consumed by his partner’s fervor.

Starsky’s eyes widened slightly as the thought sent an irrational shiver of fear up his spine. Hutch would never hurt him. Still, he hoped to hell his very large, very male partner remembered they were new at this kind of thing.

It was the slight look of alarm on Starsky’s face that pulled Hutch back to senses. With a gentle smile he removed his hands from Starsky’s waist and gently settled them on his partner’s shoulders, near the curve of his neck. Hutch struggled briefly to keep his voice normal and non-threatening, but his words shook Starsky just the same.

“Too late, Starsk. Too late to back out now.”

Hadn’t planned on it, Blondie. Starsky opened his mouth to give voice to his thought, but was unable to, because without warning, he found himself trapped as Hutch swiftly caught his face between two surprisingly soft, strong palms. An instant later, Hutch’s mouth covered his own in a kiss that shook him to the soles of his bare feet.

Starsky had never experienced a kiss quite like it.

Being a man, Starsky was used to being the possessor, not the possessed. Even in the Torino, it had been he who had been the aggressor, the alpha male. Now the shoe was on the other foot and Starsky found himself being dwarfed by his larger, stronger partner as Hutch loomed over him and devoured his mouth in a seemingly endless kiss.

Hutch shifted his hold, moving one hand to the nape of Starsky’s neck and the other to around his waist, keeping him firmly in place. Hutch deepened the kiss, his tongue exploring every inch of Starsky’s mouth.

Tightly bound to his partner, Starsky found it odd to feel so sexually aroused, yet at the same time, so cherished and protected. He’d always felt safe with Hutch, but this feeling wasn’t quite the same. Safe in Hutch’s arms used to be a partner kind of thing–together we’re invincible, nobody-could-hurt-us sort of feeling. Now safely encased in Hutch’s powerful arms, he also felt, for the first time, vulnerable. Was this how women felt? Did Hutch feel this way when I had all but attacked him in the Torino?

Starsky didn’t have time to ponder his feelings any longer as his lungs rudely interrupted his thoughts with a desperate plea for oxygen. His hands, to his surprise, were clutching Hutch’s waist tightly to him, but now he moved them to gently push against Hutch’s chest with the intent of breaking the kiss. “Mmmph.”

Hutch wasn’t having any of it.

Belatedly, Starsky remembered his soon-to-be-lover was a champion swimmer–who could hold his breath for a very long time without difficulty. Starsky pushed harder against the granite wall in front of him and attempted to twist his head to one side to break the kiss. “Mmmph!”

Hutch reluctantly pulled back and looked sheepishly at Starsky, who was nearly gasping for air.

Hutch didn’t even look winded.

“You don’t. . .” Breathe, breathe. “. . have to. .” Breathe. “. .feel like you have to get it all in one kiss, you know,” Starsky scolded brokenly, trying to get his breathing under control. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Hutch felt his face warm. “Sorry, Starsk. Guess I got a little carried away.” He reached out to tenderly brush his fingertips against Starsky’s mouth. “I dreamed of this for so long, babe.”

“Hope I didn’t disappoint you,” Starsky replied, kissing the fingers gently caressing his swollen lips.

Hutch couldn’t help it, he pulled Starsky close again and rained gentle kisses along his cheeks and forehead. “Oh, Starsk. It was so much more than I could have imagined.”

Copying Hutch’s earlier move, Starsky halted Hutch’s movements with his hands firmly cupping his cheeks. “For me, too, Hutch,” he said seriously before covering Hutch’s mouth with his own. His tongue lazily stroked Hutch’s lips, gently requesting passage through his slightly parted mouth.

Hutch eagerly obliged, parting his lips wider and sucking Starsky’s tongue as it entered his mouth. “Mmmm.”

Starsky softly pulled back, chuckling at his partner’s eagerness. “Okay. I give up.” He removed his hands from Hutch’s face and held them up in mock surrender. “Go ahead, ravish me.”

Hutch shook his head, grinning in embarrassment. “I’m usually not so crass, babe. I’m behaving like a teenager getting his first piece.” He gathered Starsky close yet again, reluctant to have him so far away as to prevent bodily contact. “Bare with me for a while,” he said nuzzling his face on Starsky’s shoulder. “I’ll calm down in about a year or two,” he whispered huskily into a curl-covered ear.

“Then I guess it’s good I’m not your average sweet thing,” Starsky teased , moving his head to steel a quick kiss.

“Funny you should say that,” Hutch grinned mischievously. “I was at this very moment thinking to myself, just how sweet is that thing, really?”

It was the only warning Starsky got as Hutch suddenly dropped to his knees, his eyes never leaving Starsky’s, as his fingers slipped inside the elastic band of Starsky’s silk pajamas and pushed the soft material down his thighs to rest around his ankles.

Starsky stared fascinated at his partner, unsure what Hutch planned to do, but game to go along with any idea floating around in that blond head. Hard and aching, he thought back to what Hutch had stated earlier as he tried hard to hold his body still and not appear like an eager teenager getting his first piece of ass.

He wasn’t being very successful.

Hutch continued to hold Starsky’s gaze as he leaned forward and gently licked Starsky’s taunt belly just above his pubic hair. Starsky’s cock was tight against his belly and Hutch’s lips just missed touching the moist tip. Starsky was unable to stifle a groan of frustration at his partner’s intentional bad aim and he shifted his hips subtly to correct the error–the same time Hutch pulled away. Objecting softly, Starsky’s left hand shot out and captured Hutch’s head encouraging it to return to it’s previous position, but Hutch wouldn’t play along. Starsky looked at him pleadingly. “Hutch. . .please. Don’t stop.”

“Show me, babe. Show me what you want,” Hutch taunted softly.

Starsky felt his face heat up. He wasn’t sure if he could ask Hutch what he really wanted, so instead of voicing his needs he opted to use their age old way of communicating to get his point across. His eyes bored into Hutch’s, his unspoken request unmistakable.

Hutch responded by taking Starsky’s hand and placing it on the straining cock in front of him. “Show me,” he repeated persistently.

Starsky nodded tenuously, but first he switched hands, putting his right hand behind Hutch’s head and his left around his cock.

“Don’t close your eyes,” Hutch commanded.

His tongue too thick in his cotton mouth, Starsky could only nod again. His cock pulsed in his hand and he felt a wave of alarm wash over him. He was getting too excited and there was a real chance he could come before he even got to the good part.

Starsky’s sudden worried expression and hesitation didn’t go unnoticed by his partner. Hutch watched the bubble of pre-come swell over the slit of Starsky’s cock. He leaned closer and blew a stream of cool air over the hot, wet head and licked the juice off the tip. Absently, he noted the taste was similar to his own and he marveled at the feel of Starsky’s satin-sleek cock, pulsing with life and so incredibly hard. He loved the way the hot flesh bucked at his touch. I’m doing this to him, driving him insane. Me. Hutch was elated that he could bring such pleasure to Starsky. Oh, the things I’m gonna do to you, babe. He grinned roguishly.

“Jeezus, Hutch!” Starsky expelled sharply. The hand gripping Hutch’s head was shaking now as Starsky closed his eyes tightly against the erotic image before him. He struggled in vain to regain control over his body.

“Don’t close your eyes!” Hutch said sharply.

“Hutch.” Starsky was pleading now and he didn’t care. Obediently, he opened his eyes and returned his gaze to his lover. “I ain’t gonna be able to stop. . .gotta come bad,” he admitted tightly. “Don’t wanna hurt ya.”

Hutch responded by licking his lips.

Starsky would later swear his cock jumped out of his hand and into that perfect mouth on it’s own accord. He came instantly as his hips pushed helplessly into sweet warmth and wetness. His hand tightened in Hutch’s hair, preventing escape, as he forced his cock deeper. Starsky was unable to stop yelling Hutch’s name while his body remain rigidly in place as his cock expelled ample amounts of warm come down the back of Hutch’s throat. “Oh!Oh!Oh!Ohhh. . .Gawwwddd!!! Hutch! Hutch!” His screams tempered down to soft moans as his lax cock slipped out of Hutch’s mouth. Starsky’s hands fell weakly to his sides. Too spent to stand, his legs gave out and he fell back against the door, sliding helplessly down until he landed on his butt. He was panting so hard he couldn’t catch his breath and his mouth was so dry it hurt to swallow.

Hutch took in Starsky’s disheveled appearance with smug satisfaction. He’d smile if he could, but his mouth and throat felt like it had just lost a battle with a truck. Worn out, he lifted the bottom of his shirt to gingerly wipe the excess come and spittle off his mouth and chin. He’d been woefully unprepared at the amount of come and had choked a little at first. He swallowed as much as he could, but he noticed he still had a fair amount on his shirt. Oh, well. Practice makes perfect.

Hutch stretch out his legs and laid down with his head resting on Starsky’s outspread thighs. He spent several minutes resting comfortably, content just gazing happily up at his wasted partner. Starsky had finally quieted down. Still as a tomb, he sat limp against the door like a misplaced rag doll. “You okay, buddy?” Hutch teased gently, his voice a little rough from their earlier activities.

“Am I dead?” Starsky replied weakly.

Hutch chuckled. “Naw, you’re still breathing.”

“Barely,” Starsky replied, too tired to even open his eyes. “Tell me, is it possible to come and go at the same time?”

“Le petit mort.”

Starsky forced one eye open to look at quizzically at Hutch. “Whazzat?”

“Le petit mort,” Hutch repeated. “It’s what the French call an orgasm. It means ‘the little death.'”

“Feel free to kill me anytime,” Starsky joked. He had both eyes opened now and he gazed down apologetically at Hutch. “Didn’t mean to be so rough. . .kinda lost it.”

“You didn’t hurt me,” Hutch quickly assured his partner. “I kind of like the idea of being able to drive you crazy.”

Starsky laughed. “You were doing that before we became lovers.”

“Say that again,” Hutch said softly.

The laughter died on Starsky’s lips as he saw the intense look of love shining in Hutch’s sky blue eyes. “Lovers,” he repeated tenderly. He pushed Hutch’s shirt out of the way and traced his name on Hutch’s chest with his finger. “My lover, my beautiful man.” He moved his hand lower, resting his palm on the bulge straining against Hutch’s jeans. “Need me, babe?” Starsky asked softly.

“In the worst way.” Hutch arched his groin into the probing hand.

Starsky watched Hutch respond ardently to his touch and felt lightheaded with power. If Hutch was reacting this way from just his touch, what was he going to be like when things got more interesting? Starsky couldn’t wait to find out.

Hutch mistook Starsky’s prolonged silence for fear and he tried in vain to reign in his rapidly deteriorating control, but Starsky’s light caresses were driving him crazy with need. “Your hand will do just fine, Starsk,” he said gently, wanting to alleviate Starsky’s anxiety.

Starsky continued to lightly stroke Hutch’s crotch. He could feel Hutch’s cock pulsating against the denim material. He knew his partner was hurting bad. “Don’t wanna jerk you off,” he absently replied.

Impatient and growing more frustrated with Starsky’s too light strokes, Hutch put his hand over Starsky’s and pushed down, forcing more pressure to his now painful erection. “Don’t tease, Starsk, not now,” he heard himself beg sharply.

Starsky abruptly withdrew his hand. “Don’t get all huffy with me, babe.” He deliberately tried to rile the blond. “You’re wanting my touch so bad right now, you’ll take it any way I decide to give it to ya.”

Hutch writhed on his partner’s lap, his own hand woefully inadequate in relieving the ache between his thighs. He gazed up at his partner’s smug expression through eyes nearly mad with desire. The truth in Starsky’s statement annoying him enough to growl between clenched teeth, “Fuck you, Starsk.”

“You’d like to, wouldn’t you?” Starsky voice, no longer taunting, was soft with wonder. “You’ve had a lot longer to think about us like this.” He shook his head at Hutch’s ready denial. “You can’t tell me you haven’t thought about it.” He stroked Hutch’s chest gently. “Do it, Hutch. I want you to.”

Hutch moaned helplessly and shook his head. He was too far gone for the patience needed to penetrate Starsky for the first time, but God, how he wanted to! “Oh, shit, Starsky. Don’t do this to me, not now.” He removed Starsky’s hand from his chest and replaced it over his swollen sex.

“Come on, babe,” Starsky coaxed. “You gotta be tired of hand jobs by now.”

Hutch abruptly rolled of Starsky’s lap and sat up, leaning back on his heels. He reached out and tugged on Starsky’s pajama top, pulling Starsky to him. “Lay down, babe,” He said thickly, unbuckling his belt and pushing his pants and underwear down his thighs while Starsky scooted away from the door and stretched out on the carpet. He quickly covered Starsky with his lean frame and nudged Starsky’s legs with his knee, signaling his partner to spread them a little. Hutch raised up enough to take his cock and nestle it between Starsky’s thighs, against his warm balls. “Put your legs together,” he said hoarsely.

Starsky complied. He reached up to unbutton Hutch’s shirt. “Wanna get comfy?”

“No time, too close.” Hutch thrusted into the tight space, moaning with pleasure at the feel of Starsky’s muscular thighs rubbing against his aching cock.

Starsky felt the sleek head of Hutch’s cock gliding in and out of his inner thighs. Each thrust pushed the long, slender cock further inside his butt cheeks until Starsky could feel the wet tip kissing his center. He tried to lift his butt for a better angle, hoping Hutch would be able to penetrate him, but the position was all wrong. The most he could accomplish was a constant nudge against the sensitive hole. It was driving Starsky wild and he felt his cock getting hard at the new sensations zipping through him. He’d never before thought of his ass as a sensitive area during sex, but Hutch was making him crazy with need. The touches against his hole were not enough and Starsky started to demand more. He freed one trapped leg from his pajama pants and spread his legs wide. “Fuck me, Hutch. Please, I can’t stand it anymore!” He reached for Hutch’s cock and attempted to bring it against his center.

His rhythm interrupted by Starsky’s sudden change in position forced Hutch to halt his actions and it took him a second or two to realize what Starsky was trying to do. Hutch reached down and removed Starsky’s hand from his cock. “Easy, babe,” he said, panting hard, trying to regain control. He gently eased Starsky’s legs off his shoulders. “I can’t fuck you.”

Starsky wiggled under Hutch, frustrated. “You don’t. . want me?”

Hutch grabbed Starsky’s hands, pulling his arms above his head, before covering his body again with his own. He kissed Starsky deeply as he rubbed his cock against Starsky’s erection. Breaking the kiss, he looked deep in Starsky’s eyes. “Of course I want you.”

“I want it, too, Hutch. You gotta believe me.”

Hutch smiled. “I believe you, babe. I just can’t right now.”

Embarrassed, Starsky looked away.

Hutch let go of Starsky’s arms to touch his cheek. “Look at me.” He waited for Starsky’s eyes to return to his before speaking. “I want you more than I have ever wanted anyone, but I would hurt you if I made love to you that way now. I’m barely holding it together, Starsk. I won’t be able to be gentle, I’d tear you apart.”

Starsky blushed. “Oh. Well, when you put that way. . .maybe we should wait.” He smiled sheepishly at Hutch. “It was feeling so good, what you were doing, I wanted more.”

“You’ll get more, later. I promise.” Hutch kissed Starsky again before pleading, “Can we get back to humping now? I’m dying here, Starsk.” He rubbed his cock against Starsky’s.

Starsky nodded. “Allow me,” he said, reaching under them to push Hutch’s cock back between his thighs. He tightened his thighs as hard as he could to give Hutch added friction and pulled the blond close to him.

“Ahhh. . .yeah. . .like that,” Hutch moan appreciatively as he began thrusting rapidly. Starsky pushed back against Hutch trying to give his own erection some relief. Hutch’s moans changed in pitch as he gripped Starsky’s shoulders tightly and stiffened. “Starsk! Ohhhh! Ugh. . .ugh. . . coming!”

Starsky felt sudden warm wetness between his thighs and ass. His own need for release was forgotten and he stroked Hutch’s back and murmured nonsense words of love as he marveled at his partner’s performance while in the thralls of his orgasm.

Drained, Hutch collapsed against Starsky, panting softly.

Starsky was unprepared for Hutch’s dead weight. “Hey, easy. I’m under here.” He pushed on Hutch’s chest in protest.

Hutch tried to push up on his elbows, but didn’t have the strength. “Sorry, babe. . . give me a minute.” He couldn’t understand Starsky’s muffled reply, so he forced his wobbly limbs to support his upper torso and raised up off his lover. “What?”

“Starsky can’t breathe,” Starsky repeated glaring at Hutch. “You weigh a ton,” he complained.

Hutch smiled. “Sorry, lover.” He rolled off Starsky and rested on his side, close to his partner. “God, I needed that.”

Starsky reached out and Hutch automatically placed his hand in Starsky’s open palm. Neither man spoke for a while.

Starsky laughed suddenly, breaking the silence.

“What’s so funny?” Hutch asked.

“Us. Our first time together was against the front door with our shirts still on and our pants around our ankles. I always pictured it more romantic. You know. . . candlelight dinner, bubble bath, followed by slow love making near a roaring fireplace.”

Hutch snorted. “Consider yourself lucky we made it to this side of the front door.” He squeezed his lover’s hand affectionally. “We’ve been practically celebrate for five months, Gordo. No matter how romantic and special I may have wanted it to be, I wanted you too damn much to wait another minute.”

“Awww, Hutch. You say the sweetest things.”

Hutch leaned over for a quick kiss. “We both just needed to blow off some sexual tension. We’ll have our ‘first time’,babe. I promise, I’ll court you properly.”

“Just feed me, love and I’m all yours.” Starsky yawned and moved to snuggle into Hutch’s embrace.

“Uh-uh,” Hutch scolded, moving to get up. “Don’t get comfortable yet. Let’s shower first.”

Starsky groaned at the idea of moving, but nodded in agreement. “Yeah. I’m too sticky to sleep now, anyway.” He shifted his legs uncomfortably as he accepted Hutch’s hand to help him to his feet. “Damn, Hutch. You shot enough to populate a small country.”

Hutch laughed as Starsky kicked off his pajama bottoms and made an awkward dash for the bathroom. He was slower to remove his clothing and follow his partner. Hutch hadn’t missed Starsky’s erection bobbing in the air at his hasty retreat and he smiled as he pulled back the shower curtain to join his partner. “Seems like I need to take care of some unfinished business,” he said, nodding at Starsky’s cock.

Smiling, Starsky wrapped his arms around Hutch and pulled him tight against his wet body. “And to think I thought you didn’t notice.”

******

After only a short nap, Starsky had remained awake, unable to fall back to sleep. Too excited and happy to sleep, he was content just resting quietly spooned up against Hutch’s back, watching his lover catch some Z’s. But now, his internal clock sounded loudly and it was always nearly impossible to ignore his stomach when it was empty.

Starsky raised up on his elbow to check the time. Ten o’clock. Yep. Time to eat. He yawned. They had been up most of the night and he was glad that they had today off. Carefully easing away from Hutch, he turned over to his back and pushed himself up until his back was resting comfortably against the headboard of the bed. What to fix for breakfast? After last night’s activities, it would have to be big, Starsky thought smiling. He’d used up a lot of energy.

Whether from Starsky’s movements or the loss of his partner’s warmth against his back, Hutch stirred, turned over and opened his eyes sleepily. “Starsk?”

Starsky softly shushed him as he reached out to gently brush Hutch’s hair out of his face. “Shhh. . .go back to sleep, babe.”

Hutch blinked a few times to clear the sleep from his eyes before scooting over and draping his head lazily on Starsky’s lap. “M’ beat,” he muttered.

Starsky’s fingers combed gently through Hutch’s hair trying to smooth out his ‘bed head’ hairdo and from the sounds of Hutch’s soft sighs it seemed he was enjoying the attention. Starsky smiled down at the blond. They were lovers now. It was still going to take some time getting used to the new developments in their relationship, but Starsky was looking forward to it. He couldn’t remember the last time he was this happy or content. “Lover,” Starsky said softly, testing the word again out loud.

“What’s wrong?” Concerned at the change of tone Starsky’s voice, Hutch lifted his head off Starsky’s lap and supported his upper body with his elbows as he gazed worriedly into the sad sapphire eyes of his partner.

“I dunno,” Starsky said, suddenly subdued. He shrugged. “It just. . .doesn’t seen right.” He leaned forward and moved his hand to gently brush his fingertips over Hutch’s lips before continuing. “Last night I called you my ‘lover’, but you’re so much more than that.” He sighed as he leaned back against the headboard. “I wish. . .” He smiled sheepishly. “Nevermind.”

“What?” Hutch prompted curious.

“It’s dumb.”

Hutch sat up and faced his partner. “I’d like to hear it anyway,” he said seriously.

“I wish I could call you my. . .spouse,” Starsky said quickly, unable to meet Hutch’s eyes.

“Okay by me.”

Starsky looked up sharply. Hutch’s voice wasn’t teasing. In fact, he sounded very serious. “It’s not that easy, Hutch.”

“Sounded easy to me. You asked. I accepted.”

“We can’t just say we’re married and be married,” Starsky argued.

“Why not?” Hutch reached for Starsky’s hand and squeezed it gently. “You’ve always stood by your word, Starsk. It’s as binding as any legal piece of paper.”

“That would be enough for you?”

“More than enough.” Hutch moved toward Starsky until their foreheads touched. “Me and thee, remember?”

“Always was,” Starsky agreed unquestionably.

“Always will be,” Hutch affirmed with certainty. “Nothing to it really,” he added, giving Starsky’s nose an Eskimo kiss before breaking contact and scooting back down in the bed to reclaim his spot on Starsky’s lap.

Starsky moved over to give Hutch more room to get settled. “You mean getting married?” He clarified.

“Yeah.” Hutch reached for Starsky’s hand and held it over his heart. “All you need are the words, Starsk.” He smiled up at his friend.

“The words, huh?” Starsky repeated smiling back.

“Yeah. You know. . .To have and to hold.”

Starsky chuckled. “Never been a problem for us before.”

“In good times and bad,” Hutch continued.

Starsky replied, “Well, since you arrested the baddest of the bad guys, I see only blue skies ahead, babe.”

Hutch shook his head sadly at Starsky’s misuse of the English language. “Worst of the bad guys, Starsk. ‘Baddest’ is not a word.”

“I know, but ‘worst’ doesn’t fit.” Starsky frowned. “Only you would correct a guy saying his vows, Hutch.”

Hutch sat up and kissed Starsky.

“Where were we?” Starsky asked, putting his arms around Hutch to keep him close.

“In sickness and in health.”

Starsky snorted. “I think we pretty much covered the sick part.”

Hutch laughed. He leaned in to kiss Starsky’s forehead before continuing. “For richer or poorer.”

Starsky rolled his eyes. “With our jobs it looks like it’s gonna be poorer, schweetheart.”

Hutch nodded in agreement, then lowered his head and kissed Starsky tenderly. When the kiss ended he spoke again, this time trying to keep his voice steady. “Til dea–

Starsky quickly put his hand over Hutch’s mouth. “No, babe,” he corrected firmly. “Death has no hold over us. We’ll never part.” He slid his left hand along the nape of Hutch’s neck, gently tugged and lifted his head to meet his love in another sweet kiss. When the kiss ended, Starsky looked Hutch in the eye and said, “And just for the record, Blondie.” He leaned in for another quick kiss. “I do!”

******

The next day Hutch gave Starsky back his jacket.

The End.