The Year of the Goat

Hutch is burned out and tired, but being with Starsky at the parade stirs his heart.

Written for the twenty minute fic challenge.

“Year of the goat, Hutch!” Starsky said enthusiastically.”1979 is gonna be a good year for us, I can tell.”

“How does an abstract Chinese zodiac animal affect the way the year will unfold?” Hutch asked, walking down the main street in Bay City’s Chinatown.

“Goats are loving and selfless,” Starsky continued, gesturing at the plethora of goat images in every shop window. “According to the article I read, goats are always thinking of others, even if it works against their own best interests.” He stopped, taking a step to stall Hutch’s forward momentum. “Which sounds to me exactly like you.”

With his recent bout of depression over the state of their jobs, their strained relationship after the debacle with Kira, and his own exhaustion, Hutch couldn’t even think of a rebuttal. “You’re delirious.”

“Nah. You’re just blue—on a day when you should be red, cause it’s the color of prosperity and joy!” Starsky nodded confidently. “I know you’re not feeling yourself lately, and that’s okay.”

Somehow, Starsky giving him permission to wallow in his despair helped. Hutch wasn’t exactly sure why but being with Starsky—when Starsky wasn’t annoying him—was often a mood lifter. And the energy around them was exciting.

Crowds had gathered on the sidewalk, hundreds of people extending for several blocks, waiting for the beginning of the Lunar New Year parade. Most were clutching red envelopes and small balloons with a gold goat drawn on the side. Little children were dancing in the street, laughing and tossing hard candies wrapped in a twist of red gilt paper at each other.

Hutch heard the strike of a drum and the crowd roared with approval. A band dressed in red robes trimmed in gold marched down the street, the drums booming. Miss Chinatown, a stunning girl with flawless pale skin and black hair like a waterfall of silk followed behind the band, clutching a bouquet of red roses.

“Isn’t this terrific?” Starsky grinned, grabbing Hutch’s arm.

Hutch looked over at him, his heart opening wide to let Starsky in. He loved the mushbrain, if he was totally honest with himself. Had loved him forever, it seemed. So what did he do about it? Starsky liked girls. Actually, Hutch loved girls, so exactly how did this all work? Was that possible to love both men and women? Would…kissing Starsky feel the same as kissing Vanessa, Abby, and Gillian? Or would it have its own special flavor, specific to Starsky alone?

“Look, a dragon!” a child cried, tooting on a plastic horn.

The dragon dancers snaked along the road, the massive head a work of art, all wide eyes with long fluttery eyelashes, wild gold whiskers and a mouthful of teeth. Dancers crouched under the head, making it bob in time to the music, the eyes opening and shutting as if flirting with its admirers.

Hutch watched the feet of the people guiding the tail march in step and made a resolution. 1979 would be the year he told Starsky how he felt.