That Liberating Feeling

Starsky’s Halloween plans irritate Hutch, but once in the swing of it all, Hutch admits Starsky’s planning was just what he needed.

“The hat’s next.”

“Starsky…” Hutch said, exasperated with his hovering partner.

“Come on. You said you’d do it. Look, you’ve got the tights on. That had to be the hardest part. Donning the hat isn’t that big of a deal,” Starsky pleaded.

“Donning the hat?” Hutch queried.

“Yeah. Donning the hat. I know you know what it means, smarty pants.”

“Starsk, you’re really asking for it.” Hutch was beginning to regret the agreement he’d made with the curly haired imp. For the last hour the phrase, “What was I thinking” had been floating in his head. He was beginning to think that agreeing to play a part in this silly Halloween skit was one of the worst decisions he’d ever made.

“Come on, we’re gonna be late. And you still have to glue the goatee on.”

“Oh, brother,” Hutch said as he headed to the bathroom. “What was I thinking,” finally unable to keep the thought to himself.

“You weren’t, so get over it,” Starsky grinned.

“No, I was thinking that my partner wanted to play the Sheriff of Nottingham and I was pestered up the wazoo until I agreed to be Robin Hood.”

“You had to be Robin Hood, Hutch. You’re perfect for it,” Starsky noted, watching his partner head to the john to finish his preparations.

“Starsky, I could be home watching the game, greeting a few kids at the door, enjoying a beer. You know, relaxing after a long week on the streets.” It had been a long week, but Hutch recognized his complaining would have little effect on his partner, who had obviously managed to gain a second wind for the evening’s festivities.

“You’re right. You could. But you’re not. Instead, you’re helping to raise money for the downtown mission and the Laurel Women’s shelter. Isn’t that better than sittin’ home on a Friday night?” Hutch knew he wouldn’t win this one. It was a good cause, and Starsky’s excitement at the game ahead easily trumped any doubts that Hutch had made the right call.

Starsky stared into the mirror, standing just behind Hutch, assuring that the finishing touches were to his liking. “There, ya see. Ya look great, Hutch. You’re gonna drive the girls crazy with those tights,” Starsky commented, followed by a perfectly timed, “and maybe some of the boys.”

“Yeah, well, I’ll be relying on you to, um, watch my back tonight on that count,” Hutch said, only vaguely in jest.

“You got it, partner. Puts a whole new spin on ‘Merry Men,’ doesn’t it?” Starsky laughed as he headed to his living room.

“All I’ve got to say is I better not be the only one there in tights or there’s someone here who’s not going to be too merry after this is all said and done.” Hutch gave his partner the dreaded pointer finger; he knew with that action alone that Starsky would understand the significance of the comment.

“Hey, I didn’t arrange for the costumes. It wouldn’t be my fault if nobody’s costume had ’em. Can you picture Dobey in tights?” Starsky giggled as he practiced his swordplay in front of the mirror.

“Since Dobey’s playing Little John, he’s unlikely to have them as part of his get-up. Plus, I doubt they make tights that large.” Hutch broke into a smile as he watched Starsky playing swordfight. His partner’s occasional “hee” and “yah” and “ugh” reminded him more of an episode of “Batman” than Robin Hood.

Starsky laughed and sheathed his sword. “Truer words were never spoken. So, how do you suppose Simmons managed to be King Richard?”

“The Commissioner was set to do it, but he had that hernia operation earlier this week. Probably just as well, with you being on his shit list and all.” Hutch smirked at his partner.

“I still don’t know how he found out it was me,” Starsky replied, a confused look on his face.

“Anyway, the choice for King was between Simmons and Martinson. Can you believe that? They were both just a couple of my merry men. Simmons won the toss.”

“Huh. Well, I’m ready to wreak havoc on the people of Nottingham. Are you ready to mount your steed?” Starsky asked as he headed to the door. He noticed Hutch looking at himself admiringly in the mirror.

“Um, Hutch?” Starsky prompted.

“Yeah,” replied Robin Hood, without looking from the mirror.

“You’re beautiful, babe. Let’s go.”

Hutch turned his attention to his partner, finally realizing what Starsky had just asked.

“Wait, wait, nobody said anything about a horse. Starsk, what the hell did you get me into?”

“Hutch, I was just kidding about your steed. I meant it was time to go. You don’t need to ride the horse ’til we get there.” Starsky winked at his partner as he shut the door to his apartment.

* * * *

“Things are goin’ pretty good, huh?” Starsky asked as he drew a long drink of water while catching his breath after his recent battle with Robin Hood’s men.

“Yeah. The kids are having fun,” Hutch replied as he sat down next to the evening’s villain.

“Not just the kids. Have you seen Dobey and Huggy? Huggy’s really playing it up as Friar Tuck.” Starsky smiled at the picture of the tall black man’s antics.

“I’m not so sure that ‘ale’ isn’t real,” Hutch commented as he took a towel and wiped at the sweat on Starsky’s forehead.

“You might be right about the ale. But he’s sure givin’ a performance. When he fell from the wagon I was sure he hurt himself. He doesn’t have the padding that Dob… uh, Cap, great job out there!” Hutch put his head down, trying not to laugh, smiling at Starsky’s quick recovery.

“Thank you, Starsky,” the big man huffed, smiling as he swiped at his drenched face. “Who would have thought that it would be a hundred degrees at seven-thirty at night on Halloween?”

“Well, Cap, it’s not a hundred degrees, but it is hot. The denouement is coming up,” Starsky said.

Hutch gave him a quizzical look. “Donned? Denouement? What have you been up to lately, Starsk?” Hutch knew that his partner was an avid reader, but throwing these words around was a little out of character for his ever-curious friend.

“Hey, I re-read Robin Hood to get ready for tonight. And while I was at it, I checked out some reviews and some stuff about the movies that have been made, and some other stuff about that time in history, the Crusades, you know.”

Hutch shook his head. His partner was amazingly industrious when he wanted to be. Hutch had barely had time to read the newspaper headlines of late. When had Starsky found the time for all this research? Hutch figured he must have given up a bunch of creature features this last week or so.

“Robin Hood is on Cal’s reading list this year,” Dobey noted. “He’s a good boy, but sometimes you’d think doing his homework was going to kill him. He got pretty excited about reading it when he found out that we were doing this that he borrowed it from the library and started early.”

“That’s good, Cap’n. How’s he like it so far?” Starsky asked, polishing his sword for the ‘denouement’.

“He’s done, and now he’s reading it again. Doesn’t know how men wore tights, though,” Dobey said, raising his eyebrow at his blond detective’s attire.

“I don’t know either, Captain. I’ve had the worst wedgie,” Hutch said, rising up from his seat, a slightly pained look on his face.

“I wonder if Martinson’s having the same problem,” Dobey chuckled.

“I don’t know. But to be honest, in other ways, these are incredibly, um, liberating.” Hutch didn’t know quite how to describe the feeling of freedom he was experiencing.

“Martinson’s not having that problem. He has no butt. Not like your luscious buns,” Starsky said, patting Hutch’s behind good-naturedly. Dobey rolled his eyes and shook his head.

“Whatever you say, Starsk,” Hutch laughed. “You’re lucky Tom had tights or I would have been forced to run over to Simmons and borrow that real sword he’s carrying around.”

As Hutch prepared to play his part again, Starsky said, “It may be liberating for you, but unless you pull that tunic down, you might be arrested for indecent exposure and contributing to the delinquency of minors.”

Hutch looked down and was mortified to see just how ‘liberated’ he was. Hiding behind his partner, he adjusted his outfit and with Starsky, headed to join in the finale.

* * * *

“So, how’d it feel being the criminal for a change?” Hutch asked as he raised a beer to his mouth, taking a huge swig while Starsky answered.

“Not bad, actually.” Robin Hood and the Sheriff of Nottingham had engaged in quite the swordfight, both combatants impressively adept with their weapons. Starsky and Hutch had put all they could into their performances, including some physically demanding running and flying leaps that their captain was sure would land one or both of them in the emergency room.

“You shoulda seen Dobey’s face when you flew over that wall and rolled down the hill. I think Dobey thought you were really hurt,” Huggy said, smiling at the recollection.

“Hey, it wasn’t just Dobey, Hug. Stopped my heart for a second there, too. What was all that about, buddy?” Hutch had stopped in his tracks when Starsky landed hard at the top of the steep hill, proceeding to tumble down to the bottom. There were long, frightening seconds where Starsky hadn’t moved.

“Just call it my method acting. I knew you’d come over. I just wanted to keep it exciting for the kids. Did you hear all the screams when I jumped up at you?” Starsky grinned as he shoved the over-stuffed burger in his mouth.

“Yeah, nice trick.” Hutch was still peeved at his partner’s actions. “You just about gave me a heart attack with those shenanigans.” Hutch looked down and took a bite of his dinner, his manner suddenly too subdued for Starsky’s liking.

Huggy could see the conversation had taken a serious turn. He reached over to squeeze Hutch’s shoulder and said, “I’ll return later. Gotta go make sure Juan and Juanita haven’t killed each other.”

“Juan and Juanita?” Starsky asked.

“Husband and wife. They’re good in the kitchen, but they get a little excited when things start hoppin’.” The proprietor left it at that as he took his leave.

Starsky eyed his partner, who had not raised his head from his meal in some time. It had been such a fun night; he really didn’t want Hutch to go home in this mood. There had to be some way to cheer Hutch up without getting into Hutch’s problem. And it was Hutch’s problem, an ongoing problem that had occasionally reared its head since Starsky had taken those bullets in the police parking garage. It had been three years since it happened, over two years since they’d been back together as partners. It seemed that no matter how much time went by, Hutch would never really get over what happened.

Starsky came up with the solution; there was no way he was going to have THAT conversation tonight.

“Come on,” he said as he stood and threw some cash on the table.

“What?” Hutch asked, confused at the sudden need his partner seemed to have to get out the door.

“You’re done, right?” Starsky asked, pulling his partner by the arm.

“Yeah. Where’s the fire?” Hutch said softly as he threw some more money down.

“It’s Halloween. We’re gonna go have some fun,” Starsky said as they made their way out of The Pits. “See ya, Hug,” Starsky called as they rushed out the door.

“Starsky, what are you talking about? Halloween’s over.” It was well past ten on Halloween night.

“I know, but I had fun today and I don’t want this feeling to end. So we’re going down to the pier and you’re gonna try to beat me at all the arcade games. Plus, Halloween can go on a little longer for us because of all the flakes that’ll be out.”

Hutch looked at his partner, marveling at the energy and enthusiasm that was David Starsky. He closed his eyes briefly, thinking back to that time in the hospital just after the cardiac arrest. Starsky was so weak—it was impossible to think of him ever leaving the hospital.

As time went on, Hutch was able to believe that Starsky would survive, but he never envisioned what he was feeling at this moment. This Halloween night, three years after the worst night of his life, watching, experiencing the miracle of a friendship that was his lifeline.

He opened his eyes and saw Starsky’s piercing blue gaze, a little anxious, most likely wondering whether Hutch was to choose that moment for another mini-meltdown. The brief eye contact was all it took to dispel Hutch’s gloominess. And that feeling was far more liberating than anything he’d experienced earlier that evening. He hoped, finally, it was permanent.

“Starsk, if we hang out at the pier tonight, our chances of getting home at a decent hour are pretty shot. We may even have to get involved in a situation with all those freaks down there.”

Starsky walked the short step or two to get to his partner’s side and said, “Hey, that could be fun, too.”

The End