Regrets?

“You’ve tied my life together, taken all the loose ends, all the things that didn’t make sense, and pulled it all together.”

Starsky woke slowly, stretching and peering out through a slitted eye. It was daylight, which meant it was morning. However, the sun was only just touching the top corner of the dresser, which meant that it was early. The clock on the nightstand said it was before seven.

He finger-walked his way across the sheets, already anticipating the solid warmth of Hutch’s back. He was in the mood for his favorite kind of wake-up; a slow gentle …snuggle. He smiled to himself. ‘God, I’m getting old.’ Not that he’d turn down anything more energetic, he was always ready to love Hutch, but his heart beat just as fast at the thought of wrapping his arms around the broad back and nestling his face into the crook of Hutch’s neck. Starsky loved to just nuzzle gently on an ear or nibble the edge of Hutch’s jaw while they mumbled nonsense to each other.

His questing fingers met nothing but air and the sheets beneath them were cool. Starsky checked the time again — yup, it was definitely before seven, so where was Hutch? Bleary eyes scanned the rest of the room before finally coming to rest on the tuxedos hanging on the door. Ah. He dropped his head back to the pillow heavily. Molly’s wedding.

He stroked Hutch’s side of the bed and wished he could go back to sleep. Wished he could skip the day entirely and wake up tomorrow, lying beside a contented Hutch. Wished he was snuggled with a Hutch with no regrets; a Hutch who would be there, ready for a little early morning cuddle, and a few sleepy, sloppy kisses. Even a Hutch who would bitch about Starsky’s morning breath and chaotic bed head before chasing him into the shower, or into the kitchen to make breakfast for them both.

Starsky sighed, rubbing his stubbly face, and swung up and out of the bed. Scratching at his chest, he padded out through the kitchen to the greenhouse, pausing at the door. Hutch was sitting on the bench, gazing into space. He looked forlorn, lost, and Starsky felt unsettled.

Biting down on his fears, Starsky walked over to his partner and bumped his shoulder with his hip, knocking Hutch from his daydream.

“Hey you.”

“Hey yourself.” Hutch looked up, his blue eyes as intense as they ever were, meeting Starsky’s.

Starsky rested his hand on Hutch’s shoulder and looked out of the window, wondering if he’d see what had been engrossing his partner, but hoping he wouldn’t.

“You’re up early.”

“I couldn’t sleep. I had… Was just… thinking, just…”

Starsky interrupted him “Rehearsing your speech?”

Hutch glanced at him sharply, but let it pass “I’m not giving a speech. Kiko’s giving Molly away, you know that.”

Starsky started to walk away, but Hutch’s hand came up to catch the one resting on his shoulder “Sit. There’s time.”

Starsky complied, sitting on the bench beside him. He began picking at the leaves on the plant in front of them, and then, when Hutch slapped his hand away, switched to fiddling with the tie of his robe.

“Molly’s wedding…” Hutch said.

“I know.” Starsky replied, tersely at first, but then repeated softly; “I know. How can it be 20 years since…” he trailed off, remembering the broken little girl who’d had her family taken from her at Christmas.

Hutch was quiet for a while, and then he muttered “They were going to send her to Juvie, do you remember? What if…”

“Hey.” Starsky patted the back of Hutch’s hand and then curled his fingers around it.

“She could have been…” Hutch was still worrying, but Starsky interrupted emphatically.

“Hutch, she wouldn’t. I mean, she didn’t…Don’t get all bent out of shape on what might have happened. Molly didn’t go to Juvie because YOU took her in. She didn’t end up with the Williams’ because Mrs. Ramos gave her a home. Don’t waste your sorrow on what might have been — not when what IS is working just fine.”

Starsky hesitated.

“We were different people then, Hutch.” He squeezed the hand he was holding, pausing before continuing on. “We all have our regrets, but it’s all worked out in the end hasn’t it?”

Hutch pulled their joined hands up to his lips and kissed them.

“You’re right.” He smiled. “Molly turned out just fine.” Hutch rose from the bench, missing the look on Starsky’s face.

“Come on. I’ll put the coffee on, you jump in the shower.”

Starsky rose, groaning as his hip took the strain. He followed Hutch through to the kitchen, remembering many happy hours watching that ass as it preceded him. But then he realized he didn’t have to just remember and reached out to grab a handful.

“Wanna join me?” Starsky asked, wrapping his arms around Hutch’s stomach and running his fingers across the warm skin. “Hmm?” he mumbled, kissing the back of Hutch’s neck, adding to his gentle invite.

Hutch turned in Starsky’s arms until they were face to face. He planted a kiss on Starsky’s forehead and then, unable to resist, stole another from his lips.

“No time.” But he softened the rejection with a few more quick kisses, which somehow became quite a few long, slow ones before Hutch ran his hand over Starsky’s face and pushed back the unruly hair.

“You really should have gotten this cut. I did tell you.”

Starsky flashed back at him “And I told you to cut your nails, but I’ve still got scratches on my back…” He pulled away laughing at Hutch’s blush. “Okay, okay, I’ll go shower and make myself beautiful. You go make coffee.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Starsky’s breath caught in his throat. Hutch stood in the center of the bedroom, struggling with his cufflinks. The sun streaming through the window was bathing Hutch in its glow, bouncing off his hair and giving him a golden halo. The sleek black tuxedo trimmed down the weight that came with the extra years and the limbs no longer suited for leaping over the hood of a car in a single bound. Starsky thought Hutch looked nothing short of heaven-sent, an illusion which Hutch swiftly shattered as he dropped the cufflinks and swore, catching sight of Starsky as he bent to retrieve them.

“Are you just gonna stand there or do you want to help me?” Hutch snapped impatiently. Hutch’s fingers were no longer as nimble as they had been, too many injuries meant that now they ached with arthritis some mornings, making him feel old, and consequently, grumpy.

Starsky walked over, taking the links from Hutch’s hands while yanking the cuffs together and threading the fastener through.

“I don’t know why you bother with these things anyway. Why don’t you get shirts with buttons like any normal person?”

“Because I like to do things properly.” Hutch held out his other wrist.

“What’d you do without me, that’s what I wanna know.” Starsky bitched as he clipped the second sleeve together, glancing up to catch Hutch gazing at him.

“I wouldn’t.”

“Yeah, you’d have to buy normal shirts then wouldn’t you…? Oh.” Starsky grinned sheepishly. “Dummy.”

They stood silently, sharing the moment. Suddenly, from outside, the horn of their ride blared, summoning them. Starsky gave Hutch a quick peck, murmuring, “God, you’re beautiful,” before walking to the car, a lump in his throat.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Starsky hated weddings. Molly had started out traditionally late, morphing into fashionably late, and was now inconsiderately and irritatingly late. Her groom was sweating at the front of the church, his mother was berating anyone who would listen about the delay, and the bridesmaids were growing irritated.

And Hutch? He had sunk back into quiet introspection, staring blindly at the altar with blank eyes.

Starsky knew Hutch was remembering Van; remembering the day he stood at the altar young, naïve, and ‘in love.’ Starsky hadn’t been a guest at the wedding, of course, but could still see his idealistic friend completing his vows earnestly and sincerely. He knew Hutch would have respected tradition, believing he was making his vows ’till death and foreseeing a future with wife, children, and grandchildren. Instead, Hutch had watched Vanessa grow to hate him as her own dreams had failed to materialize. He’d seen his wife come to despise him, and almost been destroyed when she’d died in his apartment.

Starsky had hated her for that. He’d known it was ridiculous; it wasn’t as if Vanessa had intended it to work out quite like that after all, but he never forgave her. Hutch’s dreams had crumbled with her and now, instead of sitting here as Father of the Bride, proudly leading a daughter down the aisle, he was sitting here watching an adopted ‘little brother’ give away an adopted Molly, with only Starsky at his side.

Starsky sighed as the organist burst suddenly into action and Molly appeared, looking stunning in a gown of simplistic beauty. Their tomboy was all grown up, with Kiko walking proudly beside her. As she walked past them both, she smiled and Starsky, seeing Hutch fighting his emotions, discretely squeezed his arm before dropping his hand to rest with his fingers just touching Hutch’s thigh.

The vows were exchanged and Starsky wasn’t surprised to see tears in Hutch’s eyes. Starsky gently rubbed the backs of his fingers against Hutch’s thigh and as he did so, Hutch slipped his hand from his pocket and reached to gently squeeze Starsky’s hand. Starsky squeezed back gently, but then grimaced as something hard dug into his palm. He tried to loosen his fingers, but Hutch gripped on tightly. Starsky shrugged, realizing that Hutch needed the contact, and just wiggled his fingers until he was comfortable. They sat hand in hand for the remainder of the ceremony.

When the service ended, Starsky and Hutch joined the other guests following the happy couple from the church. Starsky was surprised that Hutch showed no sign of letting go, leading them out with hands still joined.

“Hutch, people will see.” He could see that Kiko had already noticed and was whispering to Molly, who was smiling warmly at them.

“Let them.”

“But…” Starsky didn’t really mind, he wasn’t ashamed, but Hutch didn’t normally approve of ‘Public Displays of Affection.’ Starsky always found this ironic since, with the exception of himself, Hutch was the most touchy-feely man he’d ever met.

“Come here.” Hutch interrupted Starsky’s train of thought, pulling him away from the other guests and bringing him to stand in the shade of a tree just to the side of the church.

“Hutch, are you okay?” Starsky raised his free hand to brush a strand of hair from Hutch’s forehead, which was cold and clammy to his touch. “Hey, I know weddings get to you. Do you want to go? Molly won’t mind.”

Hutch touched his free hand to Starsky’s lips

“Ssh”

“Hutch?”

Pulling their hands apart, Hutch revealed the ring they had been cradling between them, resting it on his palm for a few seconds before taking it in one hand and gripping Starsky’s left hand in the other.

Starsky tore his eyes from the simple, gold band to look up at Hutch, meeting once again the intense blue gaze, glistening with unshed tears.

“Starsk, I…” Hutch faltered before continuing in little more than a whisper. “I tried to plan this, to know what to say, but I…” again he stumbled and Starsky’s heart broke a little.

“I love you, Starsk… I … you… it’s as if there is no me without you. I couldn’t be me without you.”

Starsky choked. “Hey, no soapy scenes,” he whispered, but it was almost soundless as he gazed at his partner wondering if he’d survive the way his heart was swelling.

“I love you, Starsk. You’ve tied my life together, taken all the loose ends, all the things that didn’t make sense, and pulled it all together. I…”

Starsky raised his hand and gently wiped the tears from Hutch’s face, then smiled as he wiped his own.

“Will you?” Hutch asked as he pushed the ring onto Starsky’s finger, holding it there tightly, trying to hide his trembling hands. “Will you?”

Starsky couldn’t speak, but nodded wordlessly, leaning forward for a kiss, pressing his lips fiercely against Hutch’s. He kept them there long after the kiss had sealed their union. Starsky could feel his heart pounding and rested his hand against Hutch’s chest, wanting to feel their hearts beat in unison. He felt tied, stable, safe. Loved. He wanted to sob his eyes out and bawl like a baby, but instead he stole one more kiss before raising his eyes to meet Hutch’s. He felt an idiotic grin spread across his face, threatening to split it in two, and he waggled his eyebrows at Hutch.

“You’re stuck with me now, buddy!” Then a new thought crossed his mind. “And it’s my wedding night…a guy has certain expectations on his wedding night!” He attempted a leer, but instead his face softened into a watery smile.

“Hutch…” Starsky couldn’t speak, but he didn’t need to. Together they shared a timeless, silent moment, before turning and walking back to the main party.

Starsky loved weddings.

The end.