Looking at 40

What’s in a number?

Originally published in the SHareCon 2014 zine.

He heard the surf and smelled the sea before he opened his eyes to truly wake up. He wondered again how a boy from Minnesota had found such peace and warmth in the sounds of an ocean. The smell was different from the smells of Venice Beach; cleaner somehow, both emotionally as well as environmentally he supposed.

They had left the patio door on their balcony open overnight for just those two comforts. Rolling over into Starsky’s arms, nuzzling his neck and shoulder while listening to the waves in the background was an amazing way to fall asleep. He was going to surprise his lover with the birthday presents of all birthday presents today – the papers to a beach house in Ocean Park. He smiled as his thoughts anticipated the look on his partner’s face. Hutch had been the one who held back from that real estate commitment. He had just wanted to make sure he had someplace to go to when Starsky finally threw him out of his apartment in the city. He hoped it was safe, that he was done screwing up their relationship.

“That smile is downright devious, Blintz,” said a familiar voice. “Whatever you’re thinking, it better be only good things on my birthday,” Starsky said as he entered the room, the smell of coffee coming with him.

Hutch rolled over to open his eyes and smile at his love. His partner, 40 years old today, looked like something out of GQ. Dressed in a lightweight white terry robe, his indigo eyes were bright with his typical gleam. He had showered and shaved, his smooth face with only a very faint start of crow’s eyes on either side. His skin was toned and tanned. Starsky had never been fat, but since his recovery years ago he had taken working out more seriously and as a result, was in better shape than when he was in the academy. His broad shoulders outlined the robe, but the sleeves hid the muscular shape of his arms. His chest and pecs were carved, and the luscious hair that more than covered his faded scars had the finest trace of a silver strand here and there. The six pack abs were as defined as ever, as was what Minnie called Starsky’s “bounty o’buns.”

The riot of curls that flew through the seventies were shorter now, styled appropriately but still fun, not what Starsky called “stodgy.” No way. That didn’t stop the few silver strands that snuck in from time to time. The long torso rested on slim hips and strong thighs dusted with the fine black hair Hutch loved. While typically Hutchinson’s didn’t age well, his partner sure did.

“Babe, you are the most beautiful sight I ever want to wake up to. Happy Birthday! That coffee for me?”

Starsky sat on the bed against the headboard, passing the cup. “Hmm,” leaning in for a kiss. “Waking up here was a great present babe. Thanks!” They had driven up to Carmel for the big four-oh, one of Starsky’s favorite places. They had stopped for dinner on the road last night, but had reservations at their favorite spot tonight. Hutch had ordered a catered lunch to be delivered to the hotel room, unbeknownst to Starsky. Earlier in the week, he had sent up several brightly wrapped packages to be included on the luncheon cart, including one slim box with the Ocean Park documents.

Hutch finished the cup and pulled his partner on top of him, rubbing the twin globes beneath the robe. “You deserve nothing less love. It was a pretty simple birthday request. Have I told you how amazing you look yet today?”

“You can stop it, Hutch. I know what I look like, thirty nine and three quarters,” he half joked.

“No, I’ve told you that’s just not true.”

“You love me, you’re a little biased. But don’t change that, ok?”

“Got it. Love you so much.”

“Love you at least that much.” Starsky rolled so that he was in the curl of Hutch’s arm, lying alongside. “Wonder why people pick 40 to stop and look at their life?”

“Maybe because they view it as a hopeful halfway point. Or maybe they start to feel old then.”

“Don’t know. I feel old when it rains.”

“Do you want to stop and look at your life today?” Hutch asked, running a finger down the side of the freshly washed face, and then kissing it at the chin.

“I kinna do that at times other than my birthday. Today’s just a day, but other days mean more.”

“Such as?”

“Such as the day I came home from the hospital, the day I got reinstated,” he returned the kiss. “The day we first kissed, made love. The day you first referred to us as a couple, the day we told Ma.”

“I see what you mean.”

“I mean look at me. Who would have thought, say for example when I got out of the Army, that I would still be a cop, a lieutenant for god sakes, fall hopelessly in love with my male partner, and live happily ever after?” He turned and pulled that partner down on top of himself, first dragging the covers off Hutch so to press their naked bodies together.

They made leisurely love, touching, kissing gently, teasingly, until Hutch insisted he needed to feel “his David” inside of himself. Then the electricity was as always, a hot, demanding, intense love as it had been the first and every time after that.