Two Men and a Goose

A call to the park to wrangle a goose terrorizing people leads to a discovery for Hutch

Hutch adjusted his sunglasses. If he turned his head just so, he could watch Starsky drive without appearing too obvious.

Starsky’s right hand gripped the wheel lightly, while his left arm and hand rested on the open window.Hutch had always loved Starsky’s hands—artist’s hands—slender, tapered fingers. Nothing like his own broad, blunt ones. Some nights, when he couldn’t sleep, he lay in bed and stroked himself, imagining Starsky’s fingers on his cock instead of his own.

“You’re awfully quiet,” Starsky said.”Didn’t ya sleep good or something?”

“Don’t have anything to say.”Hutch arched his back and then settled back with a sigh. He could swear Merl put extra cushioning in the Torino’s seats while restoring it after the shooting. Or maybe it was just because Starsky sat beside him, in the place he belonged, behind the wheel.

“That’s a first.” Starsky snorted.Then he frowned as he turned his head towards Hutch.”Why’d you leave so early last night? You’re not getting sick, are ya?”

Hutch took off his sunglasses.Not like Starsky didn’t know he was watching him, and the sunglasses dulled the brightness of Starsky’s eyes and smile.”I thought you and Janny would appreciate some time alone.”

“She left. Not long after you did.” Starsky’s jaw tensed, his left hand joined the right on the steering wheel.”She…couldn’t. She didn’t want a broken… Ah damn it.”

Hutch stretched his arm along the back of the seat, rested his fingertips on Starsky’s nape.”You’re not broken, babe.”

Starsky tilted his head back, as if he sought more of Hutch’s touch.His curls were soft against Hutch’s fingers. Hutch allowed himself the luxury of moving his hand up and kneading the base of Starsky’s scalp.

“You keep doing that, and we’re gonna have to get a room at an hourly motel.”

Hutch pulled his hand away.He could feel heat rush up his neck. “Sorry.”

“Felt good,” Starsky said. “I didn’t sleep too good after. You know. Things don’t work the way they should.”

“You’re alive, Starsk.”Hutch cleared his throat.

He remembered Kate Larrabee, bemoaning the prospect of losing her looks, depending on others—willing to die rather than face disfigurement, and his own speech about people being no less beautiful for using a bedpan in the hospital. He didn’t really think the lesson had sunk in.

He wished she could have seen Starsky—fighting for every breath, determined to regain what he’d lost.Starsky who let Hutch hold him when the pain became almost too much to bear, who bore the indignities of catheters and bedpans and nurses bathing him until first Hutch and then he could do it.

“Yeah.” Starsky looked at him and grinned.”I am.”

Hutch smiled back and relaxed until the radio squawked to life.

“Zebra Three. Zebra Three.”

Hutch took the mic.”Zebra Three.”

“10-91 at Emerson Lake Park. Please respond.”

“10-91?” Hutch raised his eyebrows.

“10-4, Zebra Three. Reports of a goose terrorizing people in the park.”

“Has Animal Control been notified?”

“10-4, Zebra Three.”

“10-4. We are responding.”

“Did she say a goose?” Starsky asked as he turned at the next light.

“She did.”

“This is why I worked to get back to being a detective? Why the hell isn’t Animal Control on this? Or even a black and white?”

“Look on the bright side,” Hutch told him. “Emerson Lake Park has that ice cream stand you like so much. If you’re a good boy and take care of the goose, I’ll buy you an ice cream cone when we’re done.”

“Triple scoop.”

Hutch gave a long-suffering sigh—but only because he knew Starsky expected him to. “Triple scoop.”

It wasn’t hard to find the goose. She–or he–Hutch didn’t know how to tell geese apart, currently stood on the parking lot near the lake, hissing at anyone who dared to walk nearby. Thankfully, the parking lot only had one other car—an old station wagon.

Hutch could hear kids on the playground—way on the other side of the lake, and a few couples were canoeing on the placid water. Other than that, most people must have decided being near an angry goose wasn’t worth the risk. Of course, Hutch didn’t have an idea of what an angry goose would do. Did they bite? Would they attack someone and try to peck their eyes out? He had no clue.

Starsky nodded to Hutch and they opened their doors cautiously. Hutch watched as Starsky got out slowly and stood up, keeping the car door between him and the goose.

Hutch never realized just how big a goose could be. Then again, it wasn’t as if he had much chance of running into geese in Bay City. At least not angry ones.

The white-feathered goose looked to be close to thirty inches tall and nearly as long. As a couple strolled by on the nearby sidewalk hand in hand, the woman looking up adoringly at the man, the goose ran towards them, wings outstretched and hissing.

The young woman took off running in her high heels with the older man not far behind. Her screams drifted back on the still air.

Hutch glanced over the roof at Starsky who was staring after the couple.

“You know who that was?” Starsky asked.

Hutch shook his head. “Should I?”

“That was Denny Gladstone from Gladstone Realty. And that was not his wife.” Starsky shook his head. “That’s his secretary.”

Hutch briefly wondered why Starsky knew a realtor but he quickly went back on alert as another couple came towards the parking lot pushing a baby stroller.

“Sir. Ma’am. There’s a goose on the…”

“Oh we know. Isn’t she cute? She was on the lake earlier,” the woman said. “Came right up to us when we were walking.”

Hutch shook his head as the goose totally ignored them. He watched them load up their baby and stroller and pull out of the parking lot with nary a peep, hiss, or honk from the goose. Well that was just plain weird.

“You got any ideas?” he finally asked Starsky. Where the hell was Animal Control? Here they were alone with a goose and no one to come to their rescue if things went wonky.

“You think it has rabies or something?” Starsky asked. “Can geese get rabies?”

“No. It definitely does not have rabies. Only mammals get rabies. It doesn’t even look sick.” Hutch inched slowly away from the door. “Maybe we can surround it and throw your jacket over it.”

“My jacket?” Starsky put his hands on his hips as he walked away from his door. “Why not your ratty jacket?”

“This jacket is not ratty.” Hutch smoothed down the cotton and ignored the mustard stain on it—the mustard stain Starsky had put there when he tripped and fell into Hutch while carrying a hot dog.

“Hutch.”

“Okay. Okay. We’ll use my not-ratty jacket. But you can buy me a new one.”

“Shouldn’t be hard. I’ll just go down to the mission and dig in the dumpster.” Starsky let out a laugh.

Hutch took a deep breath at the sheer joy of that laugh. He didn’t want to take it for granted ever again.

“On three?”

“On three,” Starsky said. He held his hand so Hutch could see it. “One. Two. Three.”

Hutch lunged from his side of the Torino while Starsky mirrored him on the other side. He held his jacket in front of him like a shield.

It didn’t work. As he and Starsky came towards each other, the goose lunged at them, flapping its wings and hissing. They backed up and then scrambled onto the hood of the Torino. Hutch drew up his legs to keep them from being attacked. The goose came onto the bumper.

“It’s gonna kill us!” Starsky yelped as he got to his feet.

Hutch followed him onto the roof of the car.

Starsky grabbed onto Hutch’s shoulders and pulled him close.

Hutch looked down from his perch on the roof at the goose’s beady eyes and tried to ignore his fast-beating heart at Starsky’s presence.

“You wanna go to all the trouble of filling out a report for shooting our weapons? You know what all the guys would say? We’d be the laughingstock of the precinct for the rest of our careers.”

Starsky’s breath was hot against his neck. Hutch tilted his head, and for a fraction of a moment, he allowed his forehead to rest on Starsky’s curls. He breathed in the spicy scent of Starsky’s shampoo, the fragrance of sunshine-y warmth. He heard Starsky sigh as he relaxed and pretended it was meant for him, that Starsky loved him as much as he loved Starsky.

Stop it! Hutch commanded himself. He straightened again and inched his foot towards the edge of the roof.

Hutch looked down from his perch on the roof at the goose’s beady eyes and tried to ignore his fast-beating heart at Starsky’s presence. “You wanna go to all the trouble of filling out a report for shooting our weapons? You know what all the guys would say? We’d be the laughingstock of the precinct for the rest of our careers.”

‘Stop it!‘ Hutch commanded himself. He straightened again and inched his foot towards the edge of the roof.

The goose, which seemed to have settled on the hood, hissed at him, spread its wings, and fixed its beady eyes on them once more.

“Guess that isn’t going to work,” Hutch said.

Starsky looked at him. “You mean we gotta sit here on my roof until Animal Control gets here? That could be hours.”

“You have any other suggestions? You want to risk that, that, that thing attacking us?” Hutch pointed at the goose.

“You’re the farm boy. Why don’t you figure out what to do?” Starsky crossed his arms over his chest.

“Well I sure as hell didn’t raise geese. Grandfather had horses and a couple of cows. The only geese I saw were flying overhead in the spring and fall.” Hutch stared back at Starsky and raised his finger.

“Don’t give me that look,” Starsky said. “And stop moving around so much. You’re gonna scratch the paint.”

A perverse part of Hutch’s brain told him to slide along the roof and really put a few scratches on it but then he remembered Starsky’s face when they’d walked into Merl’s a few months ago.

“I didn’t think you’d save her,” Starsky had whispered. “You never said.”

Hutch had smiled and watched as Starsky sat in the driver’s seat, where he belonged, before he slid in beside him. For the first time since the shooting, Hutch knew things were going to be alright.

They sat on the car roof in silence. Hutch became acutely aware of the growing tension, not to mention the way he itched to grab Starsky and kiss him senseless. He dug his fingernails into his palms, trying to squash down the awareness of Starsky sitting so close that he could feel the body heat from him.

“Hold onto my ankles,” Starsky said.

Hutch raised his eyebrows. “Your ankles?”

Starsky looked at him as if he had asked the stupidest question in the world. “Yes. My ankles. I’m gonna see if I can reach into the car and grab the radio.”

“You really think that will work?”

“It’s better than sitting here doing nothing. Least I can find out when someone else will get here.”

“Starsk. I don’t…You could fall and get hurt.”

Hutch held up his hands in surrender at the glare Starsky shot his way.

“Guess you’d better not let me fall, then, huh?”

Hutch wiped suddenly sweaty palms on his jeans, his mind racing as fast as his heart. “I won’t.” His voice sounded wobbly—maybe Starsky wouldn’t notice.

Starsky stared at him, and then reached up and rested his hand against Hutch’s cheek. Hutch closed his eyes to keep Starsky from seeing any emotion.

“Babe. I trust you. I’ll always trust you.”

Hutch took a deep breath. “I have a better idea. It’s a goose. A big goose but only a goose. It doesn’t have teeth. It can’t kill us.”

“You hope,” Starsky muttered.

“We’re two against one here, Starsk. How hard can it be for us to both get off the roof, open the doors, and get in the car? One of us…”

“You.”

Hutch rolled his eyes and pointed his finger at Starsky. “One of us can distract it while the other one gets in and blows the horn or something. Then we can call it in and get an ETA on Animal Control.”

Starsky nodded. “That actually sounds like it’ll work.”

Hutch nodded. “I’ll distract it by yelling or something or waving my arms and you get in first.”

“Okay. On three?”

“On three.” Hutch let his hand rest on Starsky’s shoulder and squeezed it gently. “I’m gonna get on the ground too.”

Hutch slid his legs down over the door while Starsky did the same on the driver’s side.

“One. Two. Three.” Starsky yelled the last one and jumped to the ground.

Hutch landed on his feet and immediately began yelling and waving his arms as the goose ran towards him.

“Hutch! Hutch!”

Why the hell was it taking Starsky so long to get in the car? Hutch took a step back, one hand on the door handle, heart pounding with adrenaline. It looked a lot bigger when it spread its wings and started towards him.

“Starsk! Open the damn door!”

“I can’t. Get back up on the roof!”

Hutch scrambled up and met Starsky who had just done the same.

“What happened?”

Hutch held onto Starsky’s shoulders as they settled into place. Starsky was panting, and Hutch put a hand on his chest, a leftover from all those anxious months of Starsky’s recovery.

“I’m fine.” Starsky brushed his hand away.

“Then what…”

Starsky ducked his head. “I may have locked my keys in the car.”

“You’re kidding, right?”

“Do you think I’d kid about something like that when we’re stuck on the roof of my car because a fucking goose won’t let us down?” Starsky gestured wildly, and Hutch grabbed him again to keep him steady. “Besides, you’re the damn nature boy who knows all about animals, so why can’t you do something about that goose and make it go away?”

“Well this nature boy doesn’t know a goddamn thing about geese except they fly and shit and swim in lakes and rivers!” Hutch debated whether taking his chances with the goose was better than taking his chances with Starsky. Sometimes he wanted to shake him and then kiss him senseless. Damn it, why did his brain have to go there?

“Goose turd green,” Starsky said. “The Pilgrims had a green color for clothing and stuff that they called goose turd green. You ever look at a goose turd, Hutch?”

If Starsky’s brain took him for a drive, Hutch swore he’d have whiplash from all the twists and turns Starsky’s utterances took him on. He looked at Starsky who met his gaze unwaveringly.

He couldn’t help himself. He started to laugh—a good old-fashioned belly laugh that made his whole body shake. He held his arms across his stomach as he kept laughing, and he heard Starsky join in.

“Can’t say I’ve ever inspected goose turds,” Hutch wheezed and then wiped his eyes as his laughing dwindled to chuckles.

His breath caught as he looked at Starsky. The western sun hit Starsky’s hair and warmed some of the brown strands to cinnamon. Laughter still lit Starsky’s face—color heightened in lips and cheeks. And his eyes—the sheen from the tears of laughter—were the blue of sapphires.

Hutch would always swear, years later, that he simply acted on impulse, and Starsky would laugh and say, an impulse that took you nearly ten years to act on.

Hutch found himself putting his hands on either side of Starsky’s face and leaning in while Starsky sat frozen and holding his breath.

“I love you,” Hutch whispered. “Starsk, I love you. God help me, and I’m sorry, but I love you.” He held his breath and waited.

Starsky’s breath came out in a whoosh, and he smiled that slow, lazy, charm- everyone-he met smile. “Well what are you waiting for, dummy? You gonna kiss me or what?”

Hutch didn’t care if anyone saw, even though he knew he should. Then again, their guard goose probably wouldn’t let anyone close enough to see.

Starsky’s lips were soft and warm, and he tasted of coffee and the peanut butter cups he’d grabbed before they left the station. Hutch felt as though he could kiss him forever.

They only pulled apart when, at some point, they realized breathing was a good idea.

“You love me,” Starsky said.

They sat shoulder to shoulder, and Hutch let one hand rest on Starsky’s thigh.

“Yeah.”

“Good, ’cause I feel the same way.”

“You love yourself?” Hutch couldn’t resist the dig.

“What? You mean I gotta say it? Okay, I love ya. From the tip of your blinding, thinning blond head to the ends of your clumsy feet.”

“You’re so romantic,” Hutch said and put his head on Starsky’s shoulder.

“It’s a gift,” Starsky whispered in his ear.

He jumped when Starsky nudged his ribs with an elbow.

“Hey, look at that.”

“What?” Hutch sat up straighter.

“It’s gone.” Starsky pointed to the hood of the car. There was no sign of the goose.

They carefully got down from the roof and without speaking searched the parking lot. But the goose wasn’t to be seen.

“Maybe it went back to the lake,” Hutch said. “We’d better take a look.”

Starsky nodded his assent, and they took the short walk to the shoreline. There were ducks, and the pair of swans that always lived there, but no goose or geese in sight.

Starsky stood staring out at the water, hands in his pockets.

“Hey. You okay?”

Starsky turned to him. “Yeah. Just thinking. That goose.”

“What about that goose?” Hutch pushed Starsky back towards the path that wound around the lake. “I did promise you some ice cream.”

Hutch stayed silent while they walked—he knew Starsky well enough to know Starsky was working something out in his head.

They’d made it halfway when Starsky motioned to a bench.

“Sit down and listen.”

“I’m all ears.”

“You think it’s weird that goose just disappeared? Or that it went after Denny Gladstone who’s having an affair with his secretary? Or left that young couple with the kid alone? Or chased us onto the roof until we, you, admitted you loved, we love each other?”

Hutch shrugged. “It’s a goose. Near a lake.” Another more pressing thought occurred to him. “About Denny Gladstone. Why do you know him? He involved in some case I never knew about?”

Starsky mumbled something that Hutch couldn’t quite make out.

“Say that again,” he urged.

“What d’ya think I said?” Starsky wouldn’t look at him.

“It sounded like you said you saw him because you wanted to buy a house for us.”

“That’s what I said.” Starsky picked up a pebble and skipped it across the smooth surface of the lake. “But I didn’t like him. Didn’t trust him.”

“And?”

“So I might have gone to someone else.” Starsky skipped another stone, four skips. Hutch counted.

“You find somewhere?” Hutch picked up his own stone and managed a measly two skips. He was out of practice.

“She showed me a couple of places.” Starsky twisted the toe of his sneaker in the pebbles. “I didn’t want to make a decision on my own. But I didn’t know how to ask you.”

“Yes.” Hutch felt like shouting it to all of Bay City. “Yes. I’ll live with you. And this whole other thing…” He could feel his cheeks flush again.

“You’re so cute when you blush, Blondie,” Starsky said with a grin. “They all have two bedrooms but I was kinda hoping one would be a guest room or office or something.”

Hutch brushed his hands on his jeans and they resumed their journey around the lake.

“So about that goose,” Starsky said when he held his triple decker ice cream cone and Hutch had his one scoop of vanilla. “You think I’m right?”

“That it was some kind of magic goose sent to get us together?” Hutch took a lick of his own cone and then leaned in to take a lick of Starsky’s rocky road. He held out his vanilla for Starsky who took a bite from the top.

“Yeah. Do you believe it?”

Hutch thought about it. He usually thought of himself as a bit more level-headed than Starsky, but the things they’d seen! And he still had no explanation for Starsky’s heart beating again just as he ran through the doors at Memorial. “Yeah, Starsk. I do. I believe in magic.”

After all, he loved Starsky, and Starsky loved him, and that was the most magical thing of all.