Kira’s Favor

 

Author’s Notes: Written for the SHareCon 2022 zine. Many thanks to Babs, MatSir and Flamingo for the valuable betas.

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“I love her,” Starsky said softly.

“You what?” Hutch hoped he hadn’t heard Starsky right.

“I love her.” Just as softly.

Hutch had come to Starsky’s place first thing that morning to find out about Starsky’s intentions with Kira. And now he was standing in his partner’s kitchen, Starsky sitting near him with his arms folded, saying words Hutch definitely did not want to hear.

Hutch looked away as he considered the ramifications of Starsky’s quiet disclosure, the way one feels a wound to see how badly it hurts, how debilitating it will be. He looked back at Starsky for some sign that was incompatible with the feeling his friend had just voiced. He didn’t understand how Starsky could be in love with her so soon, how he could fail to see the love that was already right in front of him, had been for so long — in another blond who was becoming desperate to share his longing for his partner.

“She loves you, huh?” Hutch managed.

“Yeah.”

“She told you that?”

“Well not in so many words, but…uh…” Starsky touched Hutch’s sleeve gently.

Hutch quivered inside. What did that touch mean? Removal of pilling on his jacket? Or…something deeper? Could his best friend be confused? Conflicted? In denial?

“You know what I mean, uh…”

Hutch didn’t. But he was numb. All he could think of was to get away, to find Kira, to confirm she didn’t feel the same way. And to make Starsky realize how shallow and fleeting she was.

“Yeah, well. Look, I’ve got some work to catch up on. I’ll hook up with you later.”

Hutch drove straight to Kira’s place. She was there, invited him in. Frantic, he hid his fear and racing heart.

“Why the long face so early in the morning?” she asked brightly.

“I’ve gotta – I’ve gotta ask you a question.”

“Ok. Good morning.” She swooped over to him and kissed him on both cheeks.

Hutch, intense, focused, didn’t react to her kisses. “I just – I just don’t figure it. I don’t figure you.”

“What? What?”

“Do you love Starsky?”

She sighed and went to sit on the couch without answering him.

“Kira, do you love Starsky?”

Sitting in her living room, so pretty and prim. Such a façade. “Yes.”

Hutch’s heart sank. He knew what he had to do. Helplessly, he started for the door. “Well, I guess for a change he was right. I’ll be seeing you around.”

“I love you too, Hutch.”

“What?”

“I love you too.”

Hutch stopped in his tracks. How could she mean that? What on earth was Starsky getting himself into? This wasn’t right. Confusion, anger, and hope registered simultaneously in his brain.

“What are you doing?” he growled at her. “What kind of a game are you playing?”

“There’s no games. I love you both.”

“Well, how is that possible?”

She looked up at him. “Because you’re two entirely different human beings and I love both of you in a different way. Is that so terrible?”

“You know, I’m trying to compute this right now, but I just can’t seem to add up.”

“Hutch, have you ever made love to more than one woman in one week? Really, the truth. Have you?”

Hutch paused. It wasn’t in him to lie about that. “Yes, on occasion I have made love to more than one woman in one week.”

“And really cared for them?”

“What?”

“-and you really liked them-“

“Liked them?”

Kira pressed on. “I mean you really cared for them!”

Hutch bristled. “I don’t make love to a woman unless I like her, ok? I feel like I’m being tested for some new sex survey or something. Will you tell me what’s going on, because I’m having a hard time handling it!”

“Well, like you, I love two people at the same time.”

Not the way he loved Starsky. There was no room in his heart for anyone else. Yes, she was attractive. But his interest in her had been all about Starsky. Why his partner wanted her; if she was right for him. And subconsciously, he realized, if he could stop this before it went too far.

There was also the niggling guilt that his one-night stands might not be all that different from what she was doing. But at least he hadn’t professed to love any of them. Love was different.

“I’m – I’m not quite that liberated. You know, when I get down to the nitty gritty, down to what love is, I’m really old fashioned about that. I’m a one-man, one-woman kind of guy.”

Or one-man, one-man…

“So you want me to choose between you and Starsky, is that it?” Kira’s face implied what an imposition that would be.

Her answer to that question could help clarify her intentions toward Starsky. “Yes. Yes.”

“Oh I see,” Kira said sarcastically. “And if I become your one woman, does that mean, it’s a commitment till death do us part, is that it?”

Dangerous territory here. “I’m – I’m – I’m not talking about that,” Hutch stammered. “That’s not what I have in mind.”

If she only knew what he had in mind. It wasn’t her.

“Exactly. Me neither. You see, dear Hutch, you want your cake, but you are afraid to eat it.”

He didn’t want her flavor of cake. He was suddenly reminded of ping pong games in the squad room. Back and forth the ball went over the net. This discussion was getting them nowhere.

“Well, I’ll give you this much. You sure know how to confuse a guy.”

She rose and came to him. “Look, Hutch. When I make that one-man, one-woman commitment, I will be the most loyal being on this planet.  But that doesn’t mean we can’t share something until then.” She took his hand, kissed it lingeringly. “Ok?”

“Wait a second – we’ve got – we’ve got some things to work out -“Hutch stammered.

“Look, life’s a lot simpler than you’d like to admit to.”

It was clear that she had no intention of being in a loving relationship with Starsky, or with him, for that matter. She didn’t really love either of them. This made him sad and happy at the same time, and also angry at how she was stringing his best friend along.

“What about Starsky? We’ve got him to consider,” he protested.

“We already have. How do you feel?” Kira asked, her finger stroking his hand suggestively, her lithe body pressed against his.

How quickly she had dismissed Starsky, who she was supposed to love! And she was coming on strong to him now, too! Starsky deserved so much better. She was lying about her feelings to use them both for whatever fun and games she desired, getting off on using the power of her sex appeal, and standing in between him and the man he longed for.

Awful need was rising in Hutch, overpowering him.  He was aching with desire, but unable to give it to the one he loved more than his life itself.  He couldn’t have what he wanted, but he could take his frustrations and sexual need out on this manipulative woman. Since she was giving him the latitude, he would take it. He hadn’t ever thought of himself as a good actor, but he turned on the same charm he had often used in difficult situations when undercover.

How do I feel…?  “Full of you,” he murmured into her ear, touching her face. He thought fleetingly about how many women he had seduced this way. Too many to count before he had realized that none of them owned his heart and soul like his partner.

The kissing grew intense, his vengefulness and frustration with her and himself driving him. She sucked in her breath in surprise but met his urgency. As they entangled together, she finally pushed him away in objection.

“My goodness. Slow down, boy. All in due time.”

Boy?

Suddenly the kissing wasn’t enough.

He made himself look calmly into her eyes, picked her up, and carried her to the bed. He removed his own clothes, watched her remove hers. There was no more seduction, no tantalizing anticipation as he lay on top of her. His need was vindictive, consuming. But how was he going to perform while he had such disdain for the person whose body he was taking? She would have to be someone else.

Longing filled his heart as he entered her. Longing for a particular man. Starsky would be virile, hard, hot, and responsive. His taut body would writhe in pleasure as Hutch covered him with his own and pressed into his tight warmth. Images of Starsky’s masculine jawline and deep blue eyes looking into his with desire permeated his mind. To kiss that neck, suck it in loving passion.

“Oh God. Ohhhh.” The words escaped him as he fucked her and became lost in his fantasy. “I love you. Starsk!”

“What!”

Hutch snapped back to reality as he found himself staring into angry blue eyes in a feminine face.

“What the hell!” Kira shoved him off.

His heart pounded harder, if that was even possible. What had he just done?

“Is this some sort of joke?” Kira demanded incredulously.

Gasping for breath, Hutch could only look at her in stunned silence.

Kira got off the bed and pulled on her robe. “You’re supposed to be making love to me and you’re calling out your partner’s name? Telling him you love him?”

“I….I…wasn’t saying that,” he lied in confused panic.

“Then do tell me what other meaning the word ‘Starsk’ has? That you love?”

“I…I…”

Kira glared at him. “So now I know how you’re ‘considering’ Starsky! I’m going to take a shower and get dressed. By the time I’m done, I want you to be gone.”

Hutch’s mind whirled desperately. “Kira…. I…I was just asking if you had started to…”

She gave him a look of disgust. “Nice try. I heard you. I heard exactly what you said. And I know you don’t love me. You were angry. Rough.” On her way to the bathroom, she threw a parting shot over her shoulder. “I wonder if David knows about this demented fantasy of yours.”

Hutch trembled as he sat on the bed, heart still pounding, fear gripping him. What to do now? Perpetuate the lie? What was Kira going to do? Was she going to tell Starsky? Would he believe her?

What if the admission cost him the most valuable relationship in his life?

By the time Hutch’s breathing and pulse had slowed, he had sketched out a plan. He had to tell Starsky about how Kira was playing them, how she had come on to him. And how he had been stupid enough to take her up on it to extract revenge. And how — if he could somehow find the courage — how much he wanted to be the object of Starsky’s affection. If Starsky found out from her first, it would be infinitely worse.

He had been desperately trying to think how to minimize the damage and hadn’t even started dressing when Kira emerged from the bathroom, wrapped in her robe.

“What are you still doing here?” she hissed.

“I…I’m leaving. As soon as I finish getting dressed. I…thought you would take longer.”

She gave a cruel little laugh.  “I could say the same.” Angrily, she picked up her clothes. “I didn’t have to wash my hair. You didn’t fuck that. You didn’t do much at all, not even get yourself off, thinking perverted thoughts about your best friend. I’ll get dressed in the kitchen. Just go.”

Hutch fought his panic to locate his clothes. Why couldn’t he move faster, get himself together? He finally snapped and zipped his pants, put on his socks and shoes, and picked up his shirt.

He had just pulled it on and began to button it when there was a knock on the front door.  He heard it open, and Kira’s surprised voice say, “David!”

Hutch froze. Oh my God. Why did she open the door? Starsky was here? This was awful, how could he possibly explain what he was doing in Kira’s bedroom?  He needed time, time to think about how to tell Starsky everything. Should he just hide until Starsky went away? Would Kira get Starsky to leave before he discovered Hutch was there?

“Where’s Hutch?” he heard Starsky say angrily.

Of course. My car is parked outside. He knows I’m here.

“Hutch?” Kira repeated awkwardly. Hutch heard the embarrassment in her voice.

“Yeah,” Starsky barked.

Hutch heard Starsky’s heavy steps barging into the hall and toward the bedroom. Was Starsky going to open the bedroom door? What would be worse? To be found cowering, hiding? Or to admit his presence, knowing full well what it would mean to Starsky, and take the consequences like a man?

There was no avoiding it. He wished desperately that he was completely dressed, but there was no time. And there was small comfort in knowing that the liaison had told Starsky something about Kira, too.  But he was still struck with terror that he had ruined the most important relationship he had ever known.

Hutch opened the door and came out of the bedroom, tucking in his shirt. He looked up to see Starsky standing in the hallway, holding a wrapped gift.

Starsky threw the gift on the counter. “Ya wanted to just straighten things out, huh? Clear up the problem?”

“Starsky, I meant it!” Hutch pleaded. He was desperate to make Starsky understand, save their friendship at least. What a disaster.

“Sure ya did.” Starsky looked more furious than Hutch had ever seen him.

“Starsky-“ Hutch grasped Starsky’s arm, trying to soothe him.  “Come on. I just came by to see how Kira feels about things.”

“That’s all? How does she feel, huh? Huh? How does she feel?” growled Starsky, his face contorted in anger.

Hutch didn’t fight back when Starsky hit him, couldn’t react in his fear and desperation except to try to control the fight by pushing Starsky back against the wall. Besides, he deserved to be hit, pummeled, punished.  Why had he thought it was a good idea to come over here, much less screw her?

“Stop it!” he heard Kira scream. “What are you, crazy? What’s the matter with you guys? You’re acting like kids! You just can’t fight over me like that without asking me how I think. Get out. Just get out!”

Anxious to leave the awful scene, Hutch exited quickly and Starsky left with him, after they shared a painful look.

Kira slammed the door behind them.

Starsky faced him, anger unabated. Hutch felt himself falling into an abyss. Everything he cared about stood right in front of him.  But Starsky was untouchable; their partnership, friendship, much less any hope for something more – in ruin. And it’s my fault. I betrayed him. I need to make him understand…

“Well, buddy boy,” Starsky snarled. “What the hell was that? As soon as I tell ya I love her, you come right over here and fuck my girlfriend?”

“Starsk, S-Starsk,” Hutch stammered. “It wasn’t like that. Please…please, hear me out.”

Starsky glared at him, his eyes dark with rage. “What was it like, Hutch? No…don’t tell me. I know how it is. And now you do, too.”  He looked like he wanted to hit Hutch again, but he only stood, clenching his fists, for a long silent moment.

“You can go to hell, partner,” Starsky spat. Turning away, he strode toward the Torino.

“Starsk!” Hutch called after him. “Starsky! Please…”

The double-parked Torino roared to life, tires squealing as it rocketed away. Hutch stood in despair, watching it careen around the corner. What a catastrophe! He needed to get to Starsky somehow, make him understand. He could not lose this man from his life.

Slowly, Hutch plodded to his car, opened the door, and sat, his breath coming in short gasps. He didn’t yet trust himself to drive and tried his best to collect his swirling thoughts. Where would Starsky go? He hoped his partner would get home safely in his rage. He would probably go home and try to drown it in drink. But Hutch realized it would be best to let Starsky cool off. He doubted Starsky would listen to anything he had to say right now.

Head in his hands, Hutch waited until he stopped trembling. A surreal feeling overcame him. This couldn’t be happening. How had he allowed it? What could he possibly say to make Starsky understand?

When his panic had subsided enough that he felt somewhat in control, he drove slowly back to Venice Place. He climbed the stairs automatically, stumbled to the refrigerator, grabbed a six-pack of beer, and went to his greenhouse to think and recover among the soothing foliage.

This evening he, Starsky and Kira were all expected to report to work on the undercover assignment at the Golden Lady dance hall to catch the killer of blond dance hall women employees. What would that be like? He knew they would all have to perform professionally. Lives, and not just their own, were at stake. So he drank enough beer to calm himself down and did what he had done so many other times – turned off his personal life and entered cop mode. Methodically, he prepared his gear for the evening, took a nap, and pushed thoughts of Starsky and Kira to the back of his brain until he could afford to deal with them.  He knew Starsky would be doing the same.

Thankfully, that evening, the case broke wide open. Although there was no communication between the three of them other than what was necessary to do the job, he and Starsky performed flawlessly to overpower Joey and minimize the damage from the grenade the demented killer had pulled. Hutch was not surprised that Kira avoided both him and Starsky as much as she could, even going to Joey instead of either one of them after the grenade went off. Glumly, Hutch noticed Starsky’s similar attitude toward her and was glad that there was now distance between her and Starsky.  He hoped that at least his partner had realized her intentions toward him were not genuine.

After Joey was apprehended, the bystanders injured by the grenade treated and taken to the hospital by the paramedics, and the scene secured, there were still reports to write. Hutch dreaded having to go to the station with Starsky and Kira to complete the reports, but knew it needed to be done immediately as a matter of protocol. They drove to the station the same way they had arrived at the Golden Lady that evening – separately – and completed the reports as they had finished the undercover assignment – professionally, but curtly.

By the time the reports were completed and filed, it was late into the night. Dobey had granted them the next two days off. As they prepared to leave, Hutch held the door open for Starsky and asked forgiveness with his eyes, in that unspoken language that they had shared for so long.

Starsky’s returning glare gave him his answer. Sadly, Hutch watched Starsky leave in tense silence. He said nothing to Kira as she followed Starsky out the door, and then he left himself.

Free of his professional responsibilities, Hutch drove to Venice Place and finally allowed himself to turn his thoughts fully to his personal relationship with Starsky.  He was overcome with pain, fear, and longing for the curly-haired combination of childlike wonder and masculine strength that was his partner. He knew he shouldn’t drink himself senseless; he needed to be clear-headed to face this crisis. But his despair was too great, too deep, and he was so tired. Before he knew it, he was lost in clouded, hazy gloom, his head lolling, bottles strewn about the floor he was slumped on.

At some point during the early morning hours he awoke with the urge to urinate and dragged his unsteady body to the bathroom. Filled with self-loathing, head throbbing, he staggered into his bedroom and fell, still clothed, onto the bed. There he lay, immobile, with visions of Starsky in his dreams, until the mid-morning sun coming through the window hit his face.

As he came slowly awake, his first conscious thought was dismay at the memory of the rift with Starsky. His hangover was countered by a jolt of adrenaline. How much of the day had passed? He had to find Starsky, make things right. If he even had a chance of doing that.

Showered, shaved, and dressed in the guitar-embroidered shirt and jeans that he knew Starsky liked, Hutch pondered his choices. He decided to go first to Starsky’s place. If Starsky had had a night like his, he wouldn’t be in any condition to go anywhere.

Pulling up in front of Starsky’s apartment, he cursed under his breath when he saw that the Torino was not in the driveway. Where had Starsky gone? He knocked and got no answer. Letting himself in with his key, he found a notepad and pencil and left a note on the kitchen table.

“Starsk –

Please, please let me talk to you. It isn’t what you think. Let me explain.

Who do we trust?

Love,

Hutch”

Returning to his car, he turned in the direction of The Pits. It was totally plausible that his partner would have gone there late last night to drown his sorrows and stayed in Huggy’s upstairs room to sober up. Hutch’s heart leaped when he saw the Torino parked in its usual spot in the back, and he quickly parked and went into the restaurant expectantly. But he didn’t see Starsky anywhere.

The lunchtime crowd was keeping Huggy and his staff busy. Huggy spied Hutch almost immediately, though, and made his way over to his friend. Huggy steered him to an empty table and sat down across from him.

“Hey, my blond brother. You’ve looked better.”

“Hug. I need to find Starsk. Right away. Do you know where he is?”

Huggy gave him a concerned look. “Your better half was here very late last night, and he looked just about as bad as you do. Did something happen? He wouldn’t talk about it. I tried.”

“Not that I can tell you now. I just – really need to find him, Hug.”

“Curly isn’t in danger or in trouble, is he?”

Hutch winced and looked at Huggy sadly. “More like I’m in trouble. But not danger.” But even as he said the words, his heartbeat thudded in his ears as if there were a gun pointed at his head. His heart, and Starsky’s, might never recover.

Huggy leaned toward him. “He wouldn’t tell me what was wrong. But when I saw him here alone, I knew something wasn’t right. He just sat here and drank himself into a stupor, then had me call a cab for him.”

“Did he say where he was going?”

“No dice, Hutch. I’m sorry. He was barely able to talk – or walk – when he left.”

Hutch stood. “Thanks. I’ve got to find him.”

“How about some food or drink for the road?”

Hutch shook his head. He was already thinking about where he would look next. Could Starsky have gone to Kira’s? He panicked at the thought.

“No, thanks. I gotta go. If you see him, Hug – please tell him I really need to talk to him, ok?”

“Sure thing, Blondie. Good luck.” He grasped Hutch’s arm compassionately. “Hey, you know…there ain’t nothin’ that could go down between you two that can’t be fixed. You dig?”

Hutch didn’t reply. He patted Huggy’s arm and left on his way to Kira’s, filled with dread.

Kira opened the door after he knocked twice.

“What are you doing here?” Her voice dripped with loathing. “I told you to get out and I meant it.”

“Is S -Starsk – is Dave – here?” Hutch stammered.

“No. I kicked him out too, remember? You were both acting like children. Now, leave.”

The door shut in his face as he was about to ask her to let him know if she saw Starsky. Not that she would, anyway, he thought wretchedly.

Hutch stood in her front yard, unsure of what to do next. Maybe the park where they used to run? Where Starsky had met Rosey? He headed there. But his anxious search through the park and pathways yielded no sign of his partner.

Then he tried their favorite Mexican restaurant, the hot dog stand, the taco stand, the magic shop, the toy store, the bowling alley, the donut shop, everywhere he could think of that Starsky liked to go. He drove their beat, stopping several times at pay phones to call Starsky’s house and leave messages. He even went to the gym where Starsky never worked out but used to pick up Hutch, eat his junk food, and talk with Vinnie.

He called Huggy from the gym.

“Any word?” Hutch asked.

“Glad you called, Blondie,” Huggy said. “I left a message at your house that Curly came here in a cab about an hour ago and picked up the Torino.”

“Did you tell him I want to see him? Where did he go?”

Hutch heard the dejection in Huggy’s voice. “Sure did. I’m sorry, Hutch. He said…he said that… you were the last person he wanted to see. And he wouldn’t tell me where he was off to.”

“Damn,” muttered Hutch.

“Hutch…there’s something else. Kira called. She wants to meet both of you here, at the bar.”

“Shit.” Hutch looked at his watch. “No way I’m meeting her, until I’ve talked to Starsk first.  Tell her we will let her know when, and if, we can do that.”

Hutch hung up, drove straight to Starsky’s apartment, and found everything as it had been earlier, untouched, including his note. His anxiety building, he then went to Metro to see if Starsky had gone in to work. But there was no sign of his partner or the Torino anywhere.

Hutch trudged sadly back to his car and sat, out of ideas. Should he simply wait at Starsky’s apartment? But it didn’t look like Starsky had been there last night.  He knew Starsky would have to report to work the day after tomorrow. But they couldn’t fix this kind of a rift at work. He desperately needed to find Starsky before then.

Suddenly an idea came to Hutch. Slapping his forehead, he flung the car into gear and headed for the beach where Starsky had found him agonizing over Lionel’s death. It was secluded, quiet, not well known, and difficult to reach down a steep hillside. They had discovered it while exploring the coastline on one of their days off. Together, they had mourned the horrible turn of events, relinquished their positions on the force, and thrown their badges into the ocean.

Coming down the winding road to the land’s edge, he uttered a hissing “Yes!” as he saw the hood of the Torino gleaming in the afternoon sun. He parked a distance away to keep from alerting Starsky and made the rest of the journey down the rocky face to the beach on foot.

A lone figure was walking slowly along the sand. As Hutch got closer, he saw dark curls blowing in the wind off the waves and recognized the blue windbreaker. But the figure did not move with Starsky’s typical bouncy strut. It plodded, dragging, lifelessly.  The figure stopped, stood facing the ocean for a long moment, then bowed its head as if lost in thought. Hutch could almost hear the deep sigh before the man listlessly tossed a pebble into the surf. Left-handed.

Hutch ached inside. He ran down to meet Starsky, whose back was still to him. When he got close enough that he thought Starsky might be able to hear him, he called out to him.

“Starsk! It’s me. Please, let me talk to you! Let me explain…”

But the wind tore the words from his mouth before they could reach their destination. Starsky didn’t look up or turn around.

Moving closer, Hutch tried again. “Starsky!”

The curly head turned. In the next instant Starsky bolted away from him down the beach at a run.

Starsky was quicker in a sprint, but Hutch’s long legs, once they got going, ate up more distance. Hutch caught up to Starsky and grabbed his arm, spinning him around so hard that without meaning to, he threw him to the ground.

Starsky came up swinging. Hutch did his best to deflect the blows without fighting back, but a few landed, including one that split his lip.

“Giddaway from me!” Starsky screamed into the gusting wind. His arms were still swinging, punching. But Hutch’s arms were longer, and he had the height advantage. He pushed Starsky down by the shoulders and then held him in a vise grip, arms wrapped tight around his irate body as Starsky struggled to free himself and worked one arm out of Hutch’s grasp.

“Starsk,” Hutch panted. “Please!  For Me and Thee. Please! Listen!”

Starsky stopped struggling, but his face was a picture of betrayal. “There is no Me and Thee!” he growled. “Not anymore.”

Hutch released his hold on Starsky. They stood, chests heaving, facing each other. The waves crashed on the shore close behind them, affirming and intensifying Starsky’s fury. Hutch’s lip bled onto his chin.

“Starsk,” Hutch begged. “Please! I’m sorry. Let me explain.”

Starsky stared at Hutch, his face stony. The wind whipped his curls into his indigo eyes, dark with hurt. The pain in them seared Hutch’s heart.

“There’s no way you can explain what you did,” Starsky shouted over the roar of the ocean and wind. “I can’t believe it. You knew I loved her. You couldn’t wait to get over there and screw her. What were you thinking? Buddy? Pal?”

Hutch reached his hands out to Starsky beseechingly. “Starsk. I had to find out. I didn’t want her to hurt you. I did it for you –“

Starsky’s face contorted in disbelief and anger. A wave broke close to them, the spray misting between them.

“For me?” he howled incredulously. “Oh, Hutch. Oh, man…” He raised his hands to his head, grabbed his own windblown curls in frustration, and glowered at Hutch.  “That’s ….such bullshit! I can’t even….I can’t….”

Hutch winced. “I know it sounds bad,” he shouted. “But I knew something wasn’t right. I had to find out what she was up to. And she came on to me! Don’t you think that – “

Starsky shot a despairing look at Hutch and took off running again. Hutch raced after him. His desperation and adrenaline helped him to catch up to Starsky within fifty yards. When he hooked Starsky by the arm, they spun and fell together, wrestling, tumbling toward the ocean. They grappled and rolled over and over again, as waves broke around them, drenching them. Oblivious, they struggled until Starsky found himself on top of Hutch in the shallow surf. Gasping for breath, his left arm poised to punch, he looked down at Hutch, who had laid his arms in surrender above his dripping head in the sand, ceasing the struggle, waiting to take the blow he deserved.

Starsky’s pain-filled eyes held Hutch’s for a moment. Then he lowered his arm, shook his head, and climbed off Hutch. Hutch stood up and they faced each other again, soaking wet, but panting and hot with emotion and exertion.

Starsky’s voice was so low that Hutch could barely hear him over the gusting wind. “Hutch.  You were my best friend. My partner. Closer than my brother.”

Hutch studied him. “I still am all those things, Starsk. If you will just listen and try to understand.”

Starsky ran his hand through his wet hair, as if considering all that they had been to each other.  Then he shrugged forlornly. “Nothing left to lose, Hutch. I suppose you can give it your best shot.” His face bore the strain of Hutch’s betrayal, but he managed to look up with a sad smile that touched Hutch’s heart. “We owe this partnership that much.”

“Thank you, buddy.” Hutch smiled back hopefully, his pulse thudding in his temples. “Can we at least get out of the wind?”

Starsky nodded toward the Torino at the top of the bluff. “I’ve got those couple of blankets I keep in the trunk with the first aid kit. Let’s get out of these wet clothes and we can sit in the car. There’s no one else here.”

They plodded up the beach and climbed up the rocky face to the Torino, behind which they quickly stripped off their wet clothes and wrapped themselves in the blankets. Soon they were sitting in estranged silence in the Torino. Hutch desperately searched for the right words to say. How much should he tell Starsky? The truth, to be sure, because he had never lied to his partner and wasn’t going to start now, when everything, their whole relationship, was on the line. But just how much of the truth would Starsky want to hear?

Hutch made his decision. He would have to tell Starsky everything. Their partnership, let alone their friendship, might already be over. Starsky had said it. Nothing left to lose.

He took a deep breath and plunged in.

“I really did go over there just to find out what her feelings were for you. She didn’t seem genuine to me. Something just seemed off. And after everything you’ve been through, Helen, Rosey…Terry…I just didn’t want you to be hurt again.” Hutch looked up, struggling to find the words he needed. “I asked her if she loved you. She said yes. I knew I had to leave and started to. But then she told me she loved me, too. And the bullshit alarm went off in my head. She was playing both of us, Starsk. She didn’t deserve you.”

Starsky swallowed. “She…she came onto you? She’s the one that…?”

Hutch nodded. “Big time. Would’ve jumped me right away if I hadn’t held her off for long enough to figure out she wasn’t sincere about you. And right then I knew for sure, she couldn’t really love you and do that. A fling is one thing, if it’s mutually understood. But she was leading you on like she really loved you. You deserve so much better.” Hutch hung his head in shame. “And here’s where I totally messed up, partner. After I found out enough to know what she was doing to you, to us, I was so disgusted with her – and a little bit with myself – that I decided to take advantage of her offer. As payment of debt, a parting gift, if you will.”

Starsky pondered this painful information. Looking unhappily at Hutch, he sighed. “Guess I should really be madder at her. Never thought about it that way.” Another sigh. “Didn’t wanna think that’s how it could’ve gone down. Although, I sure didn’t wanna think about you coming on to her, either. Or you screwing each other at all, however it went down.” He shook his head. “I guess I really owe you, Hutch. You saved me from another mistake.”

Hutch gave Starsky a small smile. “That’s what I thought. But what I really should have done was just leave and tell you what she did. I shouldn’t have taken her up on her offer, and I’m really sorry about that.”

Starsky still looked miserable but managed a sorrowful lopsided smile. “That’s ok, Hutch. She screwed both of us. In more ways than one.”

Hutch dared a soft chuckle. “Yep. Figuratively, and literally, buddy.”

Starsky snorted. “You and those big words. I like the way I said it. Shorter and simpler.”

The tension between them was ebbing. Hutch enjoyed that feeling for a moment but knew what he had to do. “There’s more, Starsk.”

Starsky put his hands to his forehead, then rubbed his eyes. “Gawd, Hutch. More? How much more shit did she put us through?”

Hutch had to know if Starsky had talked with Kira, if she had divulged his passionate fantasy. “Where were you? Where did you go? I looked everywhere for you. I left you a note at your place.  Have you- have you talked with Kira, since – ”

Starsky gripped the steering wheel, looking out the side window at the ocean rolling tirelessly in and out.

“I couldn’t face you, or her. I didn’t know what to do, Hutch. I couldn’t go home. I couldn’t go to her place.  I didn’t wanna stay at Huggy’s all night, you would find me there in the morning. I got a cheap motel for the night, then went to Huggy’s and got totally blitzed.  Then I took a cab back to the motel to sleep it off.” Starsky paused, twisting his hands on the wheel. “I went back to get the Torino this morning and drove down the coast. Came here to…to figure out what really matters. Kinda like…we did after Lionel.”

Hutch ached, feeling Starsky’s anguish and his own.

“Ahhh, Starsk,” he said gently. “You matter. You always will, to me.”

Starsky looked at Hutch. “I thought I loved her, Hutch. But I really didn’t. I thought I was supposed to, ya know? Find a woman to love.” He looked back out at the waves, watched them encroach and then recede on the sand. “Time was passing. I thought maybe it could work with her. But over these last couple days, I realized it wasn’t her I was thinking about.”

Hutch gazed at him steadily, his breath catching. But Starsky wasn’t looking back at him.

“It was you, Hutch. How much you meant to me. How crushed I was that you would do that to me. How we were ever gonna be…” Starsky turned back to him then, his eyes full of grief and something else Hutch saw that made his heart hammer against his ribs.  “And that you wanted her and not…”

The silence hung between them as Starsky seemed to labor to put his feelings into words. They heard the roar of the ocean through the closed, steamy windows.

“Hutch, I…I…you’ve rocked my world, babe. In more ways than one.”

Babe. The endearment was balm to Hutch’s soul. They stared at each other.

“Starsk,” Hutch whispered. “You don’t know…you don’t know how much it means to me when you call me that.”

Starsky’s face twisted. “I think I do, babe.”

Hutch savored the word, turned it over and over, basked in it. “Are you saying…what I think you’re saying? Because…”

Starsky swallowed, his throat working. “These last couple days, Hutch…I didn’t wanna feel this way. I’m not sure why and when it happened. I can’t really understand it. I never thought I would end up like this. But it isn’t Kira, or any woman, that I want.” Starsky’s voice dropped almost to a whisper, his words halting and shaking with emotion. “God help me. It’s you I want. Us. Together.” He paused, then looked at Hutch with longing that touched the depths of Hutch’s soul.  “In – every way.”

Hutch was sure Starsky could hear his pounding heart.

“Oh, Starsk,” he murmured lovingly. He reached out, took Starsky’s hand in his, feeling the heat and electricity spark between them.

Starsky stared back at him. “Hutch…Hutch. You feel…you feel it too?”

Hutch wrapped his fingers reassuringly around Starsky’s, rubbing his thumb over and over again across the back of Starsky’s hand.

“It’s all I think about sometimes,” Hutch breathed. He gave Starsky a shaky smile. “Would you believe me if I told you that when I was in the middle of things with Kira, it was your name I called out?”

Starsky clasped their joined hands with his other one. “God, Hutch,” he whispered.

“It wouldn’t have been making love if it was Kira. I was angry, wanted revenge. I’m not proud of that, but…I’m not embarrassed about what I was thinking, what I’m still thinking and feeling. It had to be…it had to be you.” His eyes misted. “It was you in my mind, Starsk. That’s the only way I could…perform. And I guess I got…well, so carried away with my fantasy that I…cried out your name.”

Starsky laughed uneasily, buffering the intensity between them. “I’ll bet that went over really big with Kira.”

Hutch shook his head wryly.  “Not so much, partner. She – ah – told me in no uncertain terms how depraved I was. And booted my ass out, right before you got there.” He squeezed the warm hand in his. “Been looking for you all day, to tell you…how I felt. Before she did. But you…beat me to it.”

“Looks like we have some things to talk about,” Starsky said softly.  “My place is closer.”

Hutch nodded. Starsky started the Torino and defrosted the windows, his right hand still enfolded in Hutch’s. They drove slowly and silently, savoring the newness and promise of what lay ahead.

At Starsky’s door, they hesitated, seeming to realize the significance of this moment.

“You’ve carried me before, Blondie,” Starsky said with a mischievous gleam in his eye.  “Wanna carry me over the threshold?”

“No, mushbrain,” Hutch sputtered in frustration. “I save that move for when you’re almost dying. But I’m gonna be dying in a minute if we don’t get inside quick.”

“Hafta pee?” Starsky grinned impishly.

“Oh my God. How can I love you so much? You’re such an asshole.” Hutch threw open the door and pulled Starsky inside. Once in, he closed the door and pushed Starsky up against it. “I’ve been wanting to do this for a long, long time,” he murmured into Starsky’s neck.

“Somethin’ to do with my asshole?” Starsky smiled against Hutch’s cheek.

Touching foreheads, they laughed together. Hutch felt the last remaining tension leave him, replaced by new and overwhelming delight.

“You said you love me,” Starsky whispered. “I’m not gonna make any jokes about that.”

“And I do, babe. No joke. You have no idea.”

“You keep sayin’ I don’t know how you feel,” Starsky said softly. “But I do. Will this help explain?”

Starsky looked deeply into Hutch’s eyes. Hutch felt himself drowning in the emotion and beauty of those bottomless blue pools. He quivered as Starsky turned his head to capture Hutch’s soft lips with his own. And then, his world suddenly tilted as he savored his first sweet taste of Starsky.

Hutch’s head reeled. He was kissing Starsky. God, this was so much more amazing than he had dreamed it would be. Nothing could be better.

“I love you,” Starsky whispered against Hutch’s lips.

In that instant Hutch knew he was wrong. This was better. This love. Everything was going to get better, in unbelievably incredible ways. He was dizzy at the thought. “I love you,” he whispered back.

Their arms went around each other. The damp blankets fell to the floor. Hutch felt both of their hearts thumping together as he pressed his chest against Starsky’s.

“Sorry about your lip, babe,” Starsky murmured. “I tasted a little blood.”

Hutch chuckled softly. “I think that’s a small price to pay for getting this all figured out.”

Starsky smiled, then lifted one eyebrow. “Agreed. But we’ve still got a bit of unfinished business. There’s a blonde across town that needs her comeuppance.”

Hutch hugged Starsky tighter. “Huggy says she wants to meet us at the Pits. I think we can come up with a little something to surprise her.”

“Good idea.” Starsky sighed, burrowing into Hutch’s shoulder. “But ya know, in spite of everything, she did end up doin’ us quite a favor.” He raised his head, his face shining with love.

Hutch smiled back at him. “She sure did, babe. We’ll give her what she deserves.” His lips found Starsky’s in another sweet kiss.  “And we’ll do it together.”