What The Storm Shall Bring

248

While stranded at Hutch’s new beach house during a storm, Starsky and Hutch confess their feelings for each other. Their relationship progresses while they work their cases, but they must also come to terms with the nightmares from Hutch’s past.

 

Author’s Notes: The topic of child abuse is discussed. Physical, not sexual.

Originally published as a stand-alone zine in October 2003 by AMC Press, A Paranoid Production, editors Peck and TACS. Cover and interior art by TACS.

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Linda
A gentle, bright soul
Whose light left us too soon…
I miss you
TACS

Chapter 1

Rain continued to fall in an unrelenting downpour. Due to a cold front stalled over the area, it had been raining continuously for the past four days. This was the coldest and wettest January recorded in Bay City.

Staking out one of Antonio Martini’s warehouses, a suspected drop off point for drugs, was not Starsky’s idea of a good time and this weather only made things worse. He and his partner, Hutch, were positioned across the street in an abandoned building. The building had a great view of the warehouse but lacked any other amenities. It had a leaky roof, no heat, and most, if not all, of the windows were broken. Starsky suspected it had a healthy rat population as well. He was grateful that Captain Dobey had assigned them the day shift so he wouldn’t have to know for sure about the rats.

Starsky watched the flooded street through binoculars. Hutch had a camera with a telephoto lens mounted on a tripod. Starsk chuckled when he saw a wino come out into the street and start jumping in the puddles like a child. He heard a raspy chuckle echoing from his partner. It was the most activity they’d seen all day as the foul weather had kept most people off the streets.

Starsky glanced over at his partner. He’d become an expert at covert glances over the past few months. He loved looking at Hutch. He wasn’t sure when the looks had gone from just appreciative to outright lusty, but how he felt wasn’t something he could ever tell his partner—not if he wanted the partnership to continue.

Starsky seriously doubted Hutch would be receptive to hearing that his very male partner was having lusty thoughts about him. The cop had “ladies man” written all over him, for God’s sake, and, to Starsky’s knowledge, he had only dated women. Advances from his partner weren’t likely to be warmly received.

Starsky had learned to content himself with quick looks and cold showers. He took in the long, lean form obscured by the heavy Navy peacoat Hutch was wearing, the rebellious blond curls that tumbled out over his collar and his astonishingly beautiful hands…long, tapered fingers capable of amazing dexterity. They looked delicate, but Starsky knew Hutch had very strong, solid hands that packed one hell of a punch. Still, those hands had featured prominently in many of Starsky’s fantasies.

Starsky followed the movement of Hutch’s hands as he reached to adjust the focus of the camera, noticing the slight tremble. Hutch was shivering. It wasn’t cold by Minnesota standards, but by Bay City’s, it was positively chilly. Guess you’ve been out west so long you’re not used to the cold anymore, are you buddy, Starsky thought. But then, eight hours in this damp and drafty building was more than enough to leave anyone feeling cold.

Starsky felt a twinge of concern when he noticed that Hutch wasn’t just shivering, his lips and fingertips had a faint blue tinge.

“You okay?”

Hutch shrugged, burrowing deeper into his jacket before folding his arms across his chest, his sky blue eyes meeting Starsky’s briefly.

“Nothing a hot shower and a cup of coffee can’t fix.”

Starsky nodded but decided he’d keep an eye on his partner anyway.

* * * *

By the second day of this assignment, Hutch had developed a slight cough and his voice had a rough quality to it that wasn’t normal. Starsky was willing to bet he had caught a cold but it was unlikely that Hutch would say anything about it. The man had a tendency to downplay things. He watched the rain run down the mostly intact window in front of him and sighed softly.

“I hate rain.”

“Much as you like to swim, I would have thought this kind of weather would be right up your alley,” Hutch teased.

“I like being in the water, Hutch. I don’t like it falling from the sky.”

Hutch just shook his head and muttered, “Water is water, Starsky.” He coughed once before stating philosophically, “Besides, it could be worse.”

“Any worse and someone is going to start lining up animals two by two.” Starsky’s sarcastic tone earned him a tired smile.

“We could be out there in it,” Hutch pointed out in a reasonable tone.

Starsky glanced pointedly at the leaking ceiling and broken windows. “I’m not so sure this place is really all that much better.”

Hutch nodded. “You might just be right about that.”

Starsky’s response was cut off when the dispatcher came over the radio. “Zebra Three come in.”

“Zebra Three,” Starsky responded.

“Stand by for Captain Dobey.”

“Starsky… It’s Dobey.”

“What’s up, Cap?”

“You two can call it a day. Team two found Martini at his other warehouse.”

“You need us back at the station?” Starsky really didn’t want to do any paperwork at this point. What he really wanted was a hot shower and a warm meal, but he felt obligated to ask.

He could hear Dobey’s smile over the phone. “I appreciate the offer, but I don’t think you could get here. The streets are nearly impassable downtown. Some of them are being closed to traffic. Be sure to check the radio report; you might need to take an alternate route to get home and be careful.”

“Will do. See you tomorrow. Zebra Three out,” Starsky said as he signed off.

Hutch packed up the camera and tripod. They made a mad dash for the Torino, hoping not to get any wetter than absolutely necessary. Starsky noted with disgust that the downpour had become torrential the minute they stepped outside. Some days he was convinced that God had a funny sense of humor and today was certainly making a good case for it.

Starsky fired up the Torino, waiting a few minutes before turning on the heater. He watched without comment as Hutch cupped his hands around the vent and sneezed twice before turning on the radio. Both of them listened intently to the news report. Power outages were happening all over the city and the announcer rattled off a list of the streets that had been closed to traffic. Starsky sighed. It looked like he wasn’t getting home at all.

“Want to stay at the house?” Hutch offered when the announcer finished. He had sold Venice Place and used the money along with a small inheritance from his grandfather to buy a small beach house near the ocean. Even though the rain had made many streets in the downtown area impassable, no mention had been made of the roads leading to the beach.

It was a difficult decision for Starsky. He couldn’t say no because he really didn’t have anywhere else to go and Hutch knew that. But saying yes was going to be painful. Spending time with his partner was something he greatly enjoyed, but the temptation was torture. It was hard to constantly remind himself not to act on his thoughts. Keeping his wayward dick in line was nearly impossible. It definitely had a mind of its own. Starsky nodded, accepting Hutch’s offer, resigned to the fact that he was going to have to practice self-control for the rest of the evening.

Between the steady downpour and the flooded streets, the drive to the beach took twice as long as it normally would have. Hutch kept quiet not wanting to disturb Starsky’s concentration. Hutch would never admit it, but he was impressed with the way his partner handled the Torino. The flooded streets were navigated with the unconscious grace and calm confidence with which Starsky did damn near everything. Only his silence and occasional white-knuckled grip were any indication of just how much effort was really involved.

Pulling into the driveway, Starsky turned off the engine with a quiet sigh. Hutch reached into the glove box to grab the flashlight. At Starsky’s questioning glance, he said, “We might need it if the power is off here, too. Just because they didn’t mention my neighborhood on the radio doesn’t mean we have lights.”

Together they sprinted for the front door. Ducking inside, Hutch flipped the light switch and was rewarded with a bright glow from the overhead light. The quirky half smile he flashed at Starsky, made his heart suddenly beat a little faster.

Starsky busied himself stripping out of his coat and shoes. Both were soaked through. Hutch stripped out of his coat and toed off his boots as he headed down the hall toward his bedroom, tossing a comment over his shoulder.

Starsky busied himself stripping out of his coat and shoes. Both were soaked through. Hutch stripped out of his coat and toed off his boots as he headed down the hall toward his bedroom, tossing a comment over his shoulder.

“If you want a shower, you better get it now while the power’s on. I’m not sure how long we’ll have it. I’ll get you a change of clothes.”

Having been to the house before, Starsky easily made his way to the guest bedroom and its adjoining bathroom. The hot water felt wonderful after spending the day in a drafty, damp building. Despite Hutch’s warning that they might lose power, Starsky refused to cut his shower short. He wanted to enjoy being warm.

Starsky wiped at the mirror and regarded his reflection. Dark blues looked back at him, but didn’t provide any answers. Okay, Starsky, just play it cool. It’s only one night, right? Right. Nothing to it.

Leaving the steamy bathroom wrapped in a towel, he found that Hutch had left a pair of sweats and a flannel shirt on the bed for him. Even though they had somewhat different builds, they could wear the same size clothes. Even the slight difference in their heights wouldn’t be a problem with the sweat pants.

Starsky’s mind flashed on an episode of Wild Discovery he’d seen. Hutch reminded him of the cheetah, all lean muscle and long bones. Long, graceful lines beautifully proportioned for speed and lethal skill. His mental image of himself was more akin to a leopard. While approximately the same size as a cheetah, it had a heavier and stockier, more powerful frame. Same kind of grace and lethal skill but packaged differently.

Starsky shook off his thoughts and wandered out into the living room just as the lights went out. He cursed as he stubbed his toe against something in the dark and heard his partner chuckle somewhere off to his right. Hutch turned on his flashlight and handed it to Starsky.

“Hang on to that for a second.” Hutch wandered around the room lighting candles on the fireplace mantel, the coffee table, and the kitchen counter. Starsky was surprised by just how much light a few candles generated.

“You can turn that off.” Hutch nodded toward the flashlight Starsky still held. “Save the batteries in case they don’t get the power fixed any time soon.”

Starsky turned it off and set it casually down on the same end table he’d stubbed his toe on. He tried not to think about how good his best friend looked in the candlelight. Hutch had apparently taken a shower as well. His wet hair had been carelessly brushed back. He was wearing a pair of blue jeans so old and faded they looked white. The dark blue of his Bay City P.D. sweatshirt looked almost black in the limited light.

“You hungry?”

Oh yeah… I could eat you up with a spoon. Better not say that out loud, Starsky thought but he settled for, “Yeah, I could eat.” He wondered for a moment what they’d be eating with the power off. In his apartment, all the appliances were electric. No way you could cook without electricity.

Hutch headed for the refrigerator. “Steaks okay?”

“Sure.” Starsky watched as Hutch withdrew a couple of steaks from the freezer. “Medium… right, baked potato?”

“Sounds good.”

Hutch pulled open a bin and withdrew two large potatoes. To Starsky’s surprise, he headed for the back door.

“Where are you going?”

“Grill’s on the porch.”

Oh! “Uh… Hutch, it’s raining.”

Hutch raised an eyebrow at Starsky. “I know. I seem to remember being out in it all day.”

“You can’t cook on a grill in the rain,” Starsky tried again.

“I don’t see why not. The porch has a roof and the grill has a cover. Besides, it isn’t like I haven’t done it before.” As Hutch ducked out the door, he asked, “Will you start a fire for me? It might get colder tonight.”

Starsky shook his head. Sometimes he wasn’t sure if he and Hutch were speaking the same language. Starsky turned toward the fireplace. It was already prepared, so all he really had to do was strike a match to it. The room seemed to warm up almost immediately. The fire was just enough to take the chill off.

Hutch was back only a few minutes later. He headed toward the fire carrying an armload of wood, which he placed in the large basket that sat to the left of the fireplace.

“Would you like something to drink while we wait on dinner?”

“What are my choices?”

“I’ve got beer, milk, water, juice, and soda.”

“Soda.” It was hard enough keeping himself in line when sober; Starsky didn’t even want to think about what might happen if he drank anything stronger.

Hutch retrieved a couple of bottles from the refrigerator and handed one to Starsky. It was, Starsky noted, a bottle of root beer in the brand he preferred. It was just another tangible proof of Hutch’s consideration and the fact he valued their friendship.

Hutch settled himself in a chair in front of the fire, stretching his legs out with a sigh, eyes closed. Starsky sat on the couch. Knowing Hutch couldn’t see him; he took the time to really study his partner. Stretched out like that, so relaxed, God… the man was so beautiful. Best not to think about that now. The sweats he was wearing wouldn’t hide much of anything.

Starsky sent his eyes roving around the room. He spotted a chessboard. Getting up to take a closer look, Starsky realized the pieces were made from some sort of carved stone. The detail of each piece was exquisite.

“Vanessa got that when we went to Mexico a couple of years after we were married.”

Starsky managed not to jump when Hutch spoke. “It’s beautiful. It’s been so long since I’ve played chess,” Starsky said as he examined the pieces closely.

“You play?”

Starsky nodded. “It’s been a while, but, yeah, I know how to play. Want to play a game?”

“Sure. Bring the board over here. We may as well play where we can see.”

Starsky brought the board over and set it down carefully on the coffee table.

Hutch’s grandfather loved to play chess. He’d taught him how to play when he was little and they had played regularly before his grandfather’s death. The memories were bittersweet and best left alone.

Hutch focused on the game, somewhat surprised to find his skill challenged by his friend. Starsky didn’t just know how to play; he played well. That shouldn’t really have come as a surprise. Anything Starsky did, he did well.

“Check and mate,” Starsky was able to declare with smug satisfaction fifteen minutes later. “Want to play again?”

“Sure. Why don’t you set up the board, while I check on dinner?”

Starsky watched as Hutch made his way across the room and out the back door. Do not look at his ass, Starsky berated himself as he did just that. He was like some kind of addict. He knew he shouldn’t look, shouldn’t think about what could never be, and yet he simply couldn’t resist the temptation. There ought to be a law against jeans that tight.

With a mental admonishment to behave, Starsky set the board up for another game. At least it was proving to be something of a distraction from his feelings about his partner. His competitive nature simply wouldn’t allow him to be distracted from the game for long, at least not too long. He liked to win too much for that.

Starsky forced himself not to look at Hutch when he came back in. He resisted temptation by moving to put another piece of wood on the fire. He waited until they had both retaken their seats and Hutch began to sip his beer, before making his first move. He got distracted watching Hutch’s hands as he made his own move. He suddenly flashed on one of his many fantasies and had to force his mind back to the game.

Concentrate, Starsky thought trying to keep his focus on the game, but he was honestly stunned when Hutch calmly declared checkmate some ten moves later. After checking the board, he glared at his partner.

“You should see the look on your face.” Hutch laughed. Starsky couldn’t help but notice how nice it was hearing Hutch laugh, even it if was at his expense. Hutch stopped laughing long enough to ask, “Want another game?” His face was the picture of innocence.

“You bet your ass I do.” Starsky’s discomfort at realizing just how good it felt to hear Hutch laugh made the statement come out sharper than he’d intended.

“Now don’t get your back up.” Hutch’s eyes sparkled with amusement. “I didn’t get all bent out of shape when you won the first game.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t blow you away either.”

Hutch just shrugged and set the board up for a third game. Starsky was determined to keep his mind on the game and off his partner this time. He was successful for the most part, but he still lost.

“Did you let me win the first game, Hutch?” he asked, slightly suspicious of the smile Hutch was wearing as he sipped his beer. There was something about his expression that set off a small warning bell in Starsky’s mind.

“Not really.”

“Is that a yes or a no?” Starsky demanded.

Hutch’s smile faded a little, his easy demeanor replaced by one of wariness. “No, I didn’t let you win.”

Starsky told himself to stop being an ass. He didn’t want to ruin the easy-going atmosphere of the evening

“Guess I don’t play as well as I thought I did.”

“You play well… when you’re paying attention to the game,” Hutch said quietly.

Starsky felt himself blush at that. He was grateful that his darker complexion and the low light would hide his embarrassment. He should have realized his friend would notice his distraction. Hopefully, Hutch didn’t know he was the distraction. Small favor but he would take it.

Hutch studied him for a moment, his head cocked to one side, his expression reflective. Starsky had seen that look before. It was one Hutch got when he was working out a puzzling detail of a case. Starsky clamped down on his fear that he’d somehow given himself away.

After a moment, Hutch said, “Steaks should be done.” He got up and headed back outside.

Starsky put the chessboard back with a relieved sigh then took one of the candles from the coffee table into the kitchen, setting it down in the center of the table. Under other circumstances it would be romantic. Stop thinking that. Just stop it. There is no point in thinking about what isn’t going to happen.

Starsky knew where everything was so he opted to set the table. He got out the plates, silverware, and a bottle of root beer for himself as well as another beer for Hutch. He wouldn’t want his partner to think he’d been raised without manners. Starsky smiled at the thought.

Hutch came back in carrying a platter with the steaks and potatoes. He flashed a quick grin at Starsky when he noticed the table was set. The food smelled delicious. Starsky had to admit that Hutch certainly knew how to cook.

Sitting down to his meal, Hutch decided to make an effort at conversation and ease any left over tension.

“So when did you learn to play chess?”

“When I was a kid.” A shy and almost secretive smile graced Starsky’s face for just a moment. “Of course, I didn’t get really good at it until my senior year of high school.”

Curious, Hutch asked, “What happened then?”

“I needed help with Algebra.”

When nothing else was forthcoming, Hutch sighed. There were times when Starsky would talk the ears off a mule and others when getting information from him was like pulling teeth. Seeing a glint in Starsky’s eyes Hutch realized that he had deliberately supplied so little detail just to see how long it would take Hutch to ask.

“Okay, I’ll bite. What does having trouble with Algebra have to do with becoming a better chess player?”

Starsky chuckled and then sipped at his soda before answering.

“I needed a tutor. Guy I ended up with…” Starsky shook his head slightly, his expression a mixture of amusement and affection. “His name was John Boatright. If he stood on his toes, he might have made five eight. Don’t think he weighed more than a hundred pounds soaking wet. He was an absolute genius with numbers. But didn’t have much in the way of social graces, if you know what I mean.”

Hutch nodded. He didn’t have any trouble picturing Boatright. He’d seen guys like him before working as accountants for his father. All buttoned down and proper, unable to carry on a conversation in a social setting.

“Funny thing was that we sort of hit it off. I mean, we didn’t exactly have a lot in common, but I liked him. He had a truly wicked sense of humor once he relaxed enough with you to let it out.” Starsky sipped his soda again. He leaned back, relaxing into his chair slightly.

“When I needed extra help, he was willing to give it. Even though I was only scheduled for like a couple of hours a week, he said he’d help as much as I needed, but the extra would cost me ’cause it was on his time.”

He must have seen the question on Hutch’s face because Starsky gave more detail.

“Being on the boxing and football teams, the coach usually made sure if I needed a tutor that it got paid for. But they only paid for so many hours. I guess he thought after that I either knew enough to keep my grades up or I failed so a tutor wouldn’t really be needed anymore.”

“I still don’t see how this ties into you getting better at chess.”

“Oh, that’s simple. See what John wanted by way of payment was for me to play chess with him. He loved to play, but hadn’t found anyone who was interested the game. Most high school kids are more interested in partying.” Starsky chuckled. “Intellectual pursuits aren’t generally a priority.”

Hutch had to agree with that statement. He knew he hadn’t been as focused on getting an education while in college as he had on getting laid. Down boy! Sex is not a safe topic of conversation here. Not even if it’s only in my head. Hutch forced himself to focus on what Starsky was saying.

“But John was different. Chess was something of a passion for him. He said if I won the game then the hour of tutoring was free. If I lost… well, then I had to pay for it.” Starsky grinned. “It was a great incentive to get good at it.”

Hutch sat back in his chair. “You’re kidding.”

“Nope.”

Fair enough. Starsky never lied to him, and his skill at chess couldn’t be disputed. “So… what grade did you end up with in Algebra?”

“Got a B.”

“You still keep in touch with John…” Hutch made a movement with his hand indicating he’d forgotten the last name.

“Boatright.” Starsky supplied. “Yeah. We touch base every so often.”

Hutch should have expected that. Starsky had a tendency to make long-term friends. Most long-term associations in Hutch’s life had been with his family. For the first time he found himself wondering if Starsky compensated for his loneliness after his move to California by building an extended family. If that were the case, he was blessed to be among that chosen number. It wasn’t something he wanted to screw up.

The conversation drifted to shop talk about their various cases and coworkers. The rain continued to fall, a steady drumming counterpoint to their voices. Starsky watched as Hutch rubbed his right shoulder several times, wincing slightly as he did so.

“Arm bothering you?”

“Always does when it rains.”

Before he could stop himself, Starsky asked, “What did you do to your arm anyway? You never did tell me what happened that made you quit playing baseball.”

He considered himself lucky when he got any information at all out of Hutch regarding his past. If it wasn’t somehow related to a case, Hutch simply didn’t talk about himself or his past much. He wasn’t secretive about it. It was more like he just didn’t consider it worth talking about.

Hutch finished his beer and then gave a resigned sigh. His expression was unreadable in the low light.

“You could say I took one hit too many. I was an all around all-star. I was on both the football and baseball teams. The coach didn’t like to use me much. Football is a rough game even with the padding. He was afraid I would get injured and not be able to pitch; it turns out that’s exactly what happened. It was the last game of the season. Our star quarterback was sidelined in the first half with a knee injury. The coach put me in. There was only a minute on the clock, I had already gotten sacked twice, and then I got hit again… hard. I thought I’d dislocated my shoulder.”

Starsky winced sympathetically. He knew first hand how much that could hurt.

“It turned out I didn’t just dislocate it. I ripped tendons, ligaments, and muscle. I tore the rotator cuff, too and had to have it all stitched back together. They did a good job with it, but it never was quite the same. Just couldn’t throw a baseball like I could before.” Hutch was very matter-of-fact about it, but Starsky knew that losing a chance at playing professionally had to hurt.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”

“Not your fault. It happened a long time ago.” Hutch got up and began to clear the table. Despite Hutch’s dismissal, Starsky still felt guilty about bringing it up. There had to be some way he could make it up to his partner.

“Would a massage help? I’m pretty good at it.” Starsky couldn’t believe he’d just said that. What the hell am I thinking? I can barely control myself when I’m across the room and now I’m offering to give the man a massage! Jesus! I should have my head examined!

Hutch shot him a speculative glance, raising an eyebrow.

“Massage, huh? You’re full of surprises tonight, aren’t you?” Starsky felt himself blush as Hutch continued. “I used to get a massage as part of the physical therapy I went through after they put my shoulder back together. It helped a lot.” He quirked a half smile at Starsky. “I’m game if you are.”

Oh, Blondie, you have no idea. Absolutely no idea! Starsky thought. He nodded toward the living room. “In there? It’ll be easier if you’re lying down.” No way in hell was he going to suggest the bedroom. “How about the couch?”

Hutch shook his head. “It’s too soft. The floor would be better.”

Starsky trailed after him as Hutch moved through the room to a spot directly in front of the fireplace. He snagged a pillow from the couch before turning back to look at Starsky. “Shirt on or off?”

Starsky told himself he had to be imagining the tease he heard in Hutch’s voice, the faintly seductive look in his expression was just a product of Starsky’s overactive imagination. Starsky swallowed hard before saying, “Off.”

He told himself not to watch as his partner gracefully slipped his sweatshirt off over his head. But he couldn’t resist. Upraised arms, flexing slightly, the play of shadows off well-defined lean muscle, the casual revelation of a beautiful expanse of pale gold skin.

God. Starsky, get a grip! he admonished himself.

He waited for Hutch to make himself comfortable on the floor. Taking a deep breath, Starsky knelt and began to work on Hutch’s shoulders, starting with the right one and then working his way across to the left. He tried to keep his focus on kneading the tight muscles and knots beneath his fingers, rather than on how incredible Hutch’s skin felt. It was warm and soft, reminding Starsky of satin. Working on a particularly tight spot, he heard a soft moan from Hutch.

“Too hard?” Immediately concerned that he was applying too much pressure.

“No. Feels good.” Hutch’s voice was husky.

It sent shivers down Starsky’s spine straight to his groin. That was definitely a voice he would love to hear more of. Focus, Starsky. Focus. He really should have asked Hutch if he had some oil or lotion. Probably just as well that he hadn’t. Starsky began working his way down Hutch’s back. He tried to fall into a rhythm, to lose himself in what he was doing and not concentrate on how good it felt. His hands were shaking slightly despite his best efforts.

He immediately decided that the lower back would be way too much temptation and kneaded his way back up to Hutch’s shoulders.

He gently worked out the knots in his neck. And before he could stop himself, he was running his fingers through Hutch’s hair. I always wondered if it was as soft as it looked. It feels like silk.

Starsky was stunned when Hutch arched his back and stretched. The action reminded him of a cat’s reaction to having its chin scratched. I wonder if Blondie can purr?

Encouraged by Hutch’s response, Starsky began to massage his scalp. He was rewarded with another soft moan and a sigh that came awfully close to being a purr. Starsky could feel himself getting hard just from that sound. Better watch yourself, Starsky!

He worked his way back to Hutch’s neck and down the right shoulder again. He extended the massage down the arm, easing tension in the bicep and triceps. For a man who didn’t work out much anymore, he certainly wasn’t soft. Starsky couldn’t help but admire the muscle tone he felt beneath his fingers. He felt a faint shiver course through Hutch’s frame.

“Are you cold?”

“No.” Again that husky voice. Starsky felt himself responding to it. God. This was not a good idea. In fact this was a bad idea. A very bad idea. Bad Starsky, bad! But Starsky had to admit that he would never have passed up the chance to touch his partner like this.

He worked his way back across to Hutch’s left shoulder and down his left arm. He was going to have to stop soon. The trouble was he didn’t know how he was going to hide his burgeoning erection when he did. Maybe if I do this long enough, he’ll fall asleep.

The sad part was that Starsky didn’t want to hide how he felt. He was tired of being attracted to his partner and not being able to do anything about it. It might be better to just confront the issue and let the chips fall where they may. Being so close all the time was an exquisite form of torture.

He lightened his touch until his fingers were just ghosting over Hutch’s skin. He wanted to memorize how it felt to touch, just in case he never got another chance. He cleared his throat.

“Better?”

“Much.” Hutch rolled over and raised himself up on one elbow.

Starsky found himself staring at the floor, unable to meet his partner’s eyes. Then Hutch reached out a hand to gently cup his face. Startled blue eyes rose to meet Hutch’s. Starsky absently noticed that Hutch’s pupils were so large his eyes looked almost black.

“Hey?” Hutch said softly. He nodded toward Starsky’s groin. “Is that for me?”

Starsky opened his mouth to answer, but couldn’t find the words. He was caught between wanting to deny it, to find some plausible excuse and wanting his partner. Closing his eyes, Starsky settled for nodding. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” Hutch’s voice was little more than a husky whisper.

Starsky opened his mouth to say he was sorry for ruining their partnership, for wanting his best friend, for being unable to control himself, for not wanting to hide how he felt anymore, but he never got the chance.

Hutch leaned forward and kissed him, soft and gentle, an exploratory kiss. It was like Hutch was asking permission.

Starsky moaned deep in his throat and let the kiss get deeper. Hutch tasted like beer, steak, and something he couldn’t quite identify. Starsky realized that he was actually tasting something uniquely Hutch. He moaned again before pulling away to search his partner’s face.

“You’re not mad?”

“Why would I be mad?” Hutch asked in a reasonable tone.

“Well… because… because you never showed any interest in men. At least not that I ever saw.”

“I could say the same about you.”

Fair enough. Starsky had to admit that before meeting Hutch, he was mostly attracted to women.

“But… did you ever do this before?” Starsky waved a hand indicating both of them.

Hutch smiled. “I’m not exactly a virgin here, Starsk.”

It took a minute for Starsky to get over the initial shock. When he did, he was surprised by the wave of jealousy that washed over him. Without thinking, he kissed Hutch hard, forcing him back down on the floor, wanting to stake his claim and erase the touch of any other man that might have touched his partner.

Hutch’s hands reached up and slipped into his hair, tilting his head for better access. When they came up for air, Hutch’s hands were busy trying to remove Starsky’s shirt. “Too many clothes. Babe, you’ve got on too many clothes.”

He finally got the buttons undone and was busily running his hands over Starsky’s chest. Being touched by Hutch was even better than touching him. Hutch continued to whisper, “God, you feel good. So beautiful… wanted to touch you like this for so long. So long… I should have done this sooner.”

“I wish you had,” Starsky answered. He nuzzled Hutch’s neck before moving down his chest to lave a nipple.

Hutch arched his back in response.

“Like that, do you?”

“Yeah. I like that.” Hutch’s voice had that same husky tone that had gotten Starsky hard earlier.

Starsky moved on to the other nipple. He applied his teeth gently. Hutch’s breath came out in a hiss of pleasure. Sensitive. I’ll be sure to remember that.

Starsky reached down to unbutton Hutch’s jeans. Any doubts he might have still harbored were put to rest when he didn’t encounter anything except Hutch’s erection.

“You went commando?”

“Don’t sound surprised.” Hutch chuckled. “It isn’t exactly like you’ve got on any briefs either.”

“That’s different.”

“Uh-huh. Suuuure.” Hutch nuzzled his neck, nibbling and licking as he went.

“It is… different,” Starsky gasped. “You didn’t leave me any.” He ran his fingers through Hutch’s hair, reveling in the way the blond strands felt slipping through his fingers. He felt Hutch smile against his neck.

“I know.”

Starsky froze when he realized Hutch had done that deliberately. “You sneaky son-of-a….” Hutch pulled back enough to meet Starsky’s eyes.

“Even when you were trying to be discreet, damn few men have ever looked me over the way you have been lately. I did the math. One plus one still equals two.”

“Why didn’t you say anything? Do anything?” Starsky was stunned. He should know by now not to underestimate his partner. All this time he knew!!

“I had to figure out how I felt about it first.”

“You said you weren’t a virgin to this.” Maybe what he thought that meant wasn’t what Hutch had meant by that comment.

“I’m not. But you and me… well, we’re partners, friends, best friends even. I had to know that if we did this, it wouldn’t ruin that.”

Starsky nodded. He understood that completely.

“So, you don’t think it will?”

Hutch’s eyes met and held his easily. “No. I don’t think us doing this will ruin anything. It will only make it better.”

“Good.”

“Can we get back to what we were doing?” There was a faint but definite pleading note in Hutch’s voice.

Starsky smiled widely, suddenly at ease. “Sure.” He leaned in to kiss Hutch. How can he taste so good? No one should taste that good.

It only took a minute to wiggle out of the rest of their clothing. Starsky’s breath caught and he swallowed hard, looking at Hutch as he reached out and pulled Starsky down. Full body contact left Starsky feeling breathless. Being close to the same height was definitely an advantage. And unlike most of the women he’d dated, he didn’t have to worry about his weight being too much. He was caught totally by surprise when Hutch executed a quick flip ending up on top of him.

Hutch nuzzled his neck, working his way down and across his chest. Little nips, licks, and kisses left a trail of fire in their wake. Hutch’s hands followed his tongue, going over Starsky’s skin in feather light touches. A low moan escaped Starsky as he watched those hands. This was even better than his fantasies. God, this feels so good.

Hutch worked his way down Starsky’s well-defined torso until he was kneeling between his legs. He reached out gently to stroke Starsky’s cock. He leaned down until his mouth hovered just above its head. He smiled softly looking up into Starsky’s eyes.

“May I?” Hutch’s breath from that question made his cock twitch and Starsky sighed, caught up in how good that faint puff of warm air felt.

“Yes. Hell, yes. God… you don’t have to ask,” he managed to gasp, trying hard not to get lost in the sensation of Hutch’s gentle stroking hand.

Hutch raised an eyebrow. “Yes, I do. I have to ask. Nothing happens here that you don’t want to happen.”

The sincerity in that statement was enough to blow Starsky’s mind. He knew, absolutely knew beyond a shadow of doubt, that if he said no, Hutch would respect that, wouldn’t hold it against him and would abide by his choice. Chivalrous as always, Hutch was offering him an out at any time and letting him know that Starsky was in control of the situation.

Starsky simply said, “Please do.”

Hutch took his cock in his mouth, tonguing the head with light swirling motion. Starsky’s hips bucked. Hutch leaned into him, holding him firmly in place. A little suck, a tongue swirl and then Hutch was taking a little more into his mouth.

The moist heat of it made Starsky groan. He wanted to reach out and touch, but was afraid he’d hurt Hutch by trying to force him. A woman he had dated would only give a blowjob on the condition that he didn’t touch her. She’d said trying to take too much at one time would gag her and she didn’t want to be forced. Starsky kept his hands pressed to the floor unsure of his own ability to control his desire to simply hold Hutch still and thrust into that wonderful wet heat.

Hutch started playing with his balls. Rolling them between his fingers, pulling slightly. Starsky arched his back, spreading his legs, trying to allow more contact. His fingers tried to dig their way into the floor. Hutch took a little more of his cock into his mouth. Starsky couldn’t hear himself panting; all he was really aware of was how good he felt.

“God… so good. So good… Hutch, please…”

Hutch started moving faster, going deeper. Starsky felt himself trying to get a better grip on the floor. He moaned when Hutch began humming. It sent little shock waves through him and he felt as if the world was reduced to just one point.

“Do THAT… again. Please… Please.”

He could feel Hutch’s smile as he went down low and hummed again. Hutch’s fingers found a spot right behind his balls and pressed lightly, working his throat as he did. The combined stimuli sent Starsky over the top. His whole body shuddered as he climaxed shouting Hutch’s name.

His heartbeat and breathing slowly returned to normal. Reaching out to pull Hutch up, Starsky kissed him deeply. He could taste himself on Hutch’s tongue. He swallowed? Starsky wasn’t sure why that surprised him, but it did.

“God, Hutch… that was… that was…” Starsky’s brain felt like mush. His body felt incredibly heavy and weightless at the same time.

“Glad you liked it.” He could hear amusement and affection in Hutch’s voice.

Finally regaining some control, Starsky rolled over, pinning Hutch beneath him. He reached up to frame Hutch’s face with his hands searching his eyes. “I did like it. I liked it very much.” He kissed Hutch again, running his fingers through his hair. Love his hair. So soft. Feels so good.

He slid down Hutch’s body tonguing and touching as he did so. Starsky lavished special attention on Hutch’s wonderfully sensitive nipples, sucking first one and then the other. The hitch in his breathing, faint moans, and arch of his back gave ample proof of Hutch’s pleasure. After a minute or so, Hutch tried to pull his head up and Starsky resisted. Hutch clutched at his hair and pulled harder, forcing his head up.

“Sorry… sorry. Too much… Starsky. Too… much.” Hutch was gasping. “Could come from… just that.”

Starsky nodded. “Okay. Too much. Got it.” He reached up to cup Hutch’s face with one hand, letting him know it was okay and Hutch leaned into it, turning his head to kiss Starsky’s palm. A shudder went through Starsky when Hutch captured and suckled his fingers.

Starsky closed his eyes and breathed deeply. Back to business here, Starsky! He continued to work his way down Hutch’s torso. He wanted Hutch to experience as much pleasure as he’d given. He wanted to use everything that had ever been used on him to take his partner over the top.

He paused wondering if he should give Hutch the same out he’d been given. At this point he couldn’t stop… he wanted so badly to taste, to touch, to hear more of those breathy little moans and sighs. If Hutch said no, Starsky didn’t think he’d be able to honor that choice. The thought of taking his partner, his friend against his will, made Starsky freeze.

Seeming to sense Starsky’s desire and understand his sudden immobility, Hutch gently thrust his hips and whispered, “…please.”

Knowing Hutch was with him all the way sent a warm feeling to his toes. If he hadn’t just been on the receiving end of a mind-blowing orgasm, Starsky might have come just from that feeling. You, David Starsky are such a sap. God…this man makes me feel like a teenager again.

He couldn’t quite go as deep as Hutch had and felt a momentary flash of panic when Hutch reached to lay a hand on his head but he didn’t force him down as Starsky feared. He just ran his fingers through Starsky’s hair in a soothing caress, finally bringing it to rest cupping Starsky’s face. Starsky could feel the faint tremors in that hand. He leaned into that touch briefly, letting Hutch encourage the pace without forcing it, wanting that connection.

“Feels so good, Starsky.” That husky tone was back.

Starsky tried humming and was rewarded with a long shuddering sigh. He let his tongue swirl lazily over the head of Hutch’s cock, sucking gently and then with greater force. He let a hand roam freely over Hutch, reaching up to play with his nipples. Starsky smiled around Hutch’s cock when the man all but purred in response.

Starsky felt for the spot that Hutch had touched right behind the balls that had brought so much rapture to him earlier. He could almost feel Hutch’s orgasm as it overtook him, beginning as faint quivers and then exploding in Starsky’s mouth. He swallowed it all, not missing a drop. It tastes good, he thought surprised. I could get used to this.

Hutch pulled him up for a deep kiss, sighing into his mouth. “Nice, very nice.”

Starsky relaxed into Hutch, resting his head on Hutch’s chest, listening to his heartbeat slow. Full body contact felt just as good as it had earlier, possibly even better now. Starsky had always enjoyed cuddling. Hutch brought a hand up and caressed Starsky’s arm, a slow, gentle up and down motion. It was almost hypnotic.

Starsky had no idea how long they lay there when Hutch spoke.

“I don’t know about you, but I’m too old to sleep on the floor. What do you say to moving this into my bedroom?”

Starsky smiled, surprised by that all-over warm feeling again as he realized he’d been invited to share his lover’s bed. “Sure, Blondie.” He got to his feet and offered a hand to Hutch who took it and rose gracefully to his feet, coming upright with most of his weight resting against Starsky. They stood together, literally cheek to cheek, just enjoying the moment. Hutch leaned away with a quiet sigh and a yawn.

“Bed?”

“Bed,” Starsky agreed. It had been a long day for both of them and while he wouldn’t object to giving their recent activity another go, he hadn’t forgotten that during the stakeout Hutch’s lips were blue and he’d coughed several times. He hadn’t missed Hutch’s slight shiver when he moved away from his side either. Starsky had already gotten a great deal more than he expected tonight, he wasn’t going to push it.

“Get the candles will you, Starsk? I’m going to bank the fire a little.”

Starsky put out all but one of the candles on the coffee table. He went into the kitchen to extinguish the candle they’d left burning there and the ones on the counter. He watched as Hutch folded their clothes and left them on the couch.

Back lit by the fire and the candles still burning on the mantle, Starsky was again struck by just how beautiful his partner was.

Starsky realized Hutch was looking him over as well. An appreciative and hungry look graced his features before Hutch shook his head. He rubbed at his face with both hands.

“I wish I wasn’t so tired.”

“Being cold all day does that to you.”

“I guess it does.” Hutch put out the candles on the mantle and picked up the one Starsky had left burning on the coffee table. He shivered again. “Come on. Let’s go get under the covers.”

Starsky followed Hutch down the hall. He found himself wishing for more light just so he could watch Hutch move. Now that he didn’t have to try and be discreet, he wanted to really look. Starsky gave a mental snort at that.

Evidently, I hadn’t been as sneaky as I thought I was. Probably just as well that it is dark. He needs a good night’s sleep and so do I. Starsky shrugged mentally. This has to be a first for me with a lover. I’m just as happy to sleep with him as I am to have sex with him. Starsky decided not to think about what that might mean.

Hutch drew back the covers on the bed, placed the candle on the nightstand, blew it out, and slid under the covers. Starsky slid in beside him, curling around him in spoon fashion. It felt so good to be this close. Feeling the faint chill on Hutch’s skin, Starsky pulled him closer. Hutch snuggled in to him wanting the warmth he offered.

Thinking over the day, it had definitely been better than most. Good company, good meal, good sex, and the chance to cuddle. Definitely a good day.

Unable to resist and knowing he could, Starsky ran his fingers through Hutch’s hair. Hutch sighed and relaxed into him, all but boneless.

“Do you like that?” Starsky whispered.

“I love that.”

“Good. ‘Cause I love doing it.” Starsky fell asleep, warm and content, wrapped around his partner.

* * * *

Starsky woke with a start, wondering where he was and why he was awake when it was still dark out. Gradually the evening came back to him and he realized that what woke him was Hutch’s absence. He glanced at the clock and realized it was barely 6:00 am.

What? Where the hell is Hutch?

He felt the first stirring of panic. What if Hutch changed his mind? What if he thinks last night was a mistake? Shit. He better not think it was a mistake, ’cause I sure as hell don’t. Starsky took a deep breath. First order of business was to find his partner, then worry about everything else.

Starsky tried the lamp on the nightstand, relieved to have it come on providing light. He got out of bed and looked around for something to wear. He found Hutch’s old flannel bathrobe on the back of the door. With a shrug he slipped into it, surprised by how warm and soft it was.

The over-head light was on in the kitchen, the coffee pot was quietly perking and the radio was playing softly, but no Hutch. Starsky headed for the clothes left on the couch last night, getting ready to dress and seek out his missing partner, when Hutch slipped in through the back door.

“Morning, Starsk. Didn’t think you be awake yet.”

Starsky looked Hutch over. He was in the sweatshirt and faded jeans from last night. He didn’t look upset, nervous, or uncomfortable. He looked completely at ease, rested and relaxed.

He looks normal, like it could be any other day. That’s a good sign, right? Has to be.

“What in the hell are you doing up at this ungodly hour?” Starsky was relieved that the question came out mildly annoyed rather than outright upset or hostile.

Hutch cocked his head to one side, studying Starsky. “I’m always up early. I thought you’d be sleeping for a while yet, so I might as well go for my morning run.”

Oh. Right. He does jog in the morning. Starsky rubbed a hand over his face trying to wake up.

“You want a cup of coffee?”

“Coffee would be good.” He followed Hutch back into the kitchen. It wasn’t until after his first cup that Starsky thought to ask, “Jogging? Has it stopped raining?”

Hutch nodded. “It must have quit a couple of hours ago.”

“Can we swing by my place on the way to work? I need a change of clothes.”

Hutch looked him up and down. That hungry look from last night was back, in spades. “I kind of like what you have on. This just-rolled-out-of-bed,-grabbed-whatever-was-handy is a good look for you.”

Starsky swallowed hard. Well, that certainly answered the question about how he feels about last night.

“Yeah. I kind of like it, too, but I can’t go to work in it.”

“Don’t worry, buddy, we aren’t going to work today.” Hutch was smiling.

“Why not?”

“Because according to the radio, the streets are still flooded. Can’t get to your place or the PD. Looks like you’re stuck here for the next day or two. If you want to be, that is.”

Hutch’s matter-of-fact approach was once again letting Starsky make the choice, while at the same time clearly stating his own preference. Starsky couldn’t help but smile. He stalked over to Hutch, trapping his partner, friend, and lover against the counter.

“This mean we can go back to bed?” Starsky’s voice dropped to a seductive whisper.

“Bed… hmm… sure you don’t want to shower?” Hutch was smiling shyly; his eyes sparkled with humor and desire.

“Bed. Then shower.”

Hutch chuckled. “I can live with that.”

Starsky leaned forward and kissed him. Looks like today might just be as good as last night. Getting off to a good start anyway.

Chapter 2

I’m staring at the calendar on my desk not really sure why it’s so fascinating until all of a sudden I take in the date and it hits me. It was exactly three months ago that I was stranded at Hutch’s beach house during a storm. It was the night that we went from partners and friends to lovers. I didn’t even realize I knew the date at the time and here I am marking off an anniversary.

Who knew a little rain could provide such a golden opportunity? During that storm, stranded at Hutch’s house, I decided to stop hiding how I felt about him. It’s weird, but I remember making the decision to let the chips fall where they may. I was totally prepared to deal with the consequences.

You could have knocked me over with a feather when Hutch didn’t get angry or disgusted. Hell, he wasn’t even surprised. Some part of me had expected him to throw me out into the night, to demand a new partner, or even to throw a punch at me. But instead, he confessed that he knew how I felt and was just waiting for me to say something.

I can feel the grin break out on my face when I think about that night. Oh, no, Hutch was definitely not a virgin about sex with another man. I’ve been pleasantly surprised many times by his sense of adventure and his experience. This new dimension in our relationship has been enlightening to say the least.

I spend more time at his beach house than I do at my apartment. I can count on one hand the number of nights I’ve spent alone in the last month. It’s getting so I don’t sleep well if I can’t feel him next to me or hear him breathing. Watching him fall asleep is the best way I’ve found to relax. No matter how hard the day’s been, seeing his face lose all the day’s tension and feeling him relax as he’s lying next to me is like a balm to my soul.

Nothing’s really changed here at work. It’s been business as usual. I don’t think either of us is ready to make some sort of public announcement. Cops aren’t the most receptive bunch of people and dealing with hostile criminals is enough. I don’t want to deal with hostile coworkers, too. Not to mention that if Dobey knew, he’d split us up in a heartbeat. Can’t let that happen. Hutch’s the only partner I ever want to work with. That’s one of the reasons I was so worried about letting him know how much I was lusting after him. The thought of losing him as a partner scared me. I need him.

I shake my head. Gotta get my mind back on work. I’ve done enough daydreaming for one day.

I’d just managed to refocus my attention on the report I was typing when I hear someone say, “Excuse me. I’m looking for Kenneth Hutchinson. Could you tell me where I might find him?”

I glance up from the report in time to make eye contact with the most stunning woman I’ve ever seen. Sky blue eyes calmly stare back at me. I can’t help myself, as I look her over, taking in the beautiful, slender form clad in tailored slacks and a turtleneck sweater. She’s tall and it’s not just because her heels give her an added inch. She’d be tall barefoot. Long dark hair hangs down her back in a single braid. She has a healthy warm brown tan of someone who spends a lot of time in the sun. No makeup. Her complexion is flawless so she didn’t need it. I suspect that she wouldn’t wear it even if she did need it. A natural beauty this one. I finally make my way back to her eyes again and, judging by her amused expression, I realize my interest hasn’t gone unnoticed. I managed not to blush.

“I’m sorry, what did you say?”

“I’m looking for Kenneth Hutchinson. I was told this was his desk. Do you know where I can find him?” Her voice is soft, smooth like honey. It was deeper than I had expected, but it suits her.

“He’s testifying in court today.” I glance at my watch to check the time. Ten to twelve. “He’s due back by noon, if you’d care to wait.” I wave a hand toward a chair next to my desk.

She nods to me once then moves to sit in the chair. I can’t help but notice that she moves with the same natural, unconscious grace as Hutch. Not exactly like a dancer. More like someone used to being physically active, someone who routinely places demands on her body and expects it to perform. I find myself wondering what it is she wants with my partner.

“I’m Hutch’s partner, David Starsky. Is there something I can help you with, Miss…?” I offer letting my voice trail off to indicate that I don’t know her name.

She smiles warmly and I have to catch my breath. “Jennifer. Jennifer Stevens. And, no, it’s Hutch I need to talk to. Thank you, though.”

Deciding not to push it, I shrug mentally, figuring I’ll know soon enough. I pretend to go back to working on the report in front of me, all the while trying hard not to simply stare at her. It isn’t long before I hear Hutch’s voice as he enters the squad room casually greeting people. Minnie stops him to hand him a report.

I’m caught off guard when the woman whispers his name and, despite it being such a soft sound, Hutch’s head snaps up from the paper he was looking at, an intense searching look on his face as he scans the room. When he sees her sitting next to my desk, he grins. He obviously knows her and seems happy to see her. He hands the folder back to Minnie with a “later” motion and heads for our desks.

“Jenny.” Hutch’s voice takes on that warm, welcoming tone I had come to think of as being reserved for me. I have to clamp down hard on a pang of jealousy that becomes a raging torrent when she stands up and hugs him. Hard. He returns her hug with equal enthusiasm.

After a moment, Hutch pulls back, still grinning. “It’s so good to see you.”

“Good to see you, too, Ken.”

Hutch gives her the once over with his eyes. “You look good.”

“So do you, but then you always do.”

I have to agree with that assessment. Hutch always looks good to me, too. Hutch, on the other hand, has a different opinion.

“Yeah. Sure. I always knew you were a flatterer.”

Suddenly he seems to remember I’m there because he glances over at me. “Sorry, Starsky, I forgot my manners. David Starsky, this is an old friend of mine, Jennifer Stevens. Jenny, this is my friend and partner, David Starsky.”

I stand up and offer a hand to her. No point in telling Hutch we’ve already more or less met. “Nice to meet you.”

She smiles and winks at me before shaking my hand. “Same here.” Turning back to Hutch she asks, “Are you hungry?”

“Starved.”

“Good. I’ll buy.”

“You’re buying? Hmmm. Must mean you want something.”

I can tell Hutch is teasing her, but something in the way he says that makes me think he’s not entirely joking.

“I can’t treat you just ’cause we’re friends?”

Hutch shoots her a disbelieving look. “You never have before.”

“There’s a first time for everything, you know.”

“Uh-huh. I’m sure there is, but I doubt this is one of those.”

Jenny sighs and gives Hutch a wry look. “Okay, so I’ve got a little favor to ask.”

“I thought so.” Hutch’s statement is matter-of-fact. There’s no anger in his voice. Makes me wonder what kind of history they have.

“Someday I am going to come by just because I want to see you.”

“Yeah. And the four horsemen of the apocalypse are going to show up right afterwards.”

She chuckles lightly at that. “I’m not THAT bad.”

“So you say.”

She slaps his arm lightly. “I am not.”

“It’s okay. A friend in need is a friend indeed, right? So buy me lunch and ask me what you want to ask.” Hutch holds up a hand and then points a finger at her. “I’m warning you now. Depending on the favor, it might take more than lunch to get me to agree.”

“That’s okay.” Jenny gave Hutch a look I could only think of as positively seductive. “I’ve got more to offer than just lunch.”

“Oh, do tell.” Hutch raised an eyebrow.

Once again, I had to fight the green-eyed monster. I reminded myself that she was an old friend, nothing more. But then Hutch hadn’t exactly introduced me as anything more than a friend and partner, either. For the first time it bothered me that I had never found the courage to tell him just how I felt or to ask him how he felt. After all this time, I still have no idea if this is more than just sex for him. Truth is, I don’t even know for sure what it is for me. I’m pulled back to their conversation by the sound of my name.

“Starsky? Hey, are you in there?” Hutch is looking at me intently.

“Yeah.” I shake myself slightly. “Paperwork coma, ” is all I can think to say by way of an explanation.

“Do you want to join us for lunch?”

No, I don’t want to. I would rather put red-hot needles in my eyes, but I can’t let this woman be alone with Hutch. I just can’t.

“Sure. Where are we going?”

Hutch shrugs. “It’s up to Jenny. After all, she’s the one buying.”

I’m expecting us to end up eating in some ritzy French restaurant where I can’t read the menu. For once in my life, I’m glad to be disappointed. Jenny’s choice in restaurants is Italian. She also speaks the language as fluently as Hutch. I’m amazed and the jealousy is growing.

Over the course of our meal, I find out that Jenny is a journalist, and apparently a damn good one. She’s been around the world a time or two. Enjoys traveling and meeting people.

I can’t help thinking, This is good. She’s not staying. I find myself repeating that in my head like some kind of good luck charm or mantra.

Hutch and Jenny start catching up on old times and I find out they met as kids in school. It isn’t long before they’re talking about people and places I’ve never heard of. It’s amazing how long-time friends can fall into a sort of verbal short hand that’s practically a code. I couldn’t break it, even if I wanted to, because I didn’t share the same experiences. I hate feeling left out, but I don’t know how to include myself in the conversation without being rude. Listening to them talk, I’m envious of the connection between them.

I can’t help but wonder if Hutch and I have anything that even comes close to it. The two of them seem to have so much in common and, based on the conversation I’m listening to, they have a long history. She’s bright and beautiful. With her, he could have a “normal” relationship. Have children if he wanted. I suddenly realize that’s a hell of lot to compete with and I’m not sure I can or even if I should.

Finally, Jenny gets to the favor she wanted to ask of Hutch. “I’ve been given a new assignment. I’ll be out of the country for… well, I don’t honestly know how long.”

Hutch holds up a hand stopping her from saying anything else. “Let me guess. You need someone to look after the fish and cat. Am I right?”

“No, I found another friend who will look after them.”

Hutch looks relieved. “Thank God, you’re not leaving me with the fish, again.”

“You killed the last ones.”

“I don’t know anything about fish, except how to cook them. I told you that when you decided to leave them with me. You can’t hold me responsible for them going belly up.”

“I might have been more forgiving if you hadn’t grilled the fish and fed them to the cat.”

Hutch laughs and shakes his head. “The cat looked hungry and I didn’t think it would be right to let the fish go to waste.”

Jenny holds up her hands in a gesture of surrender. “Okay, Okay. I learned my lesson. I only ask you to take care of the animals you already know how to handle. And, that brings me to my question.”

“Which is?” Hutch makes a go on motion with his hand.

“I have a friend who just moved here. She’s staying at my place. She doesn’t know too many people yet and I thought…”

“Hold it right there,” Hutch demanded. “There’s no way I’m letting you set me up on another blind date.”

“Come on, Ken, you could never say no to me, not from the day we met. She’s new in town and I’ve been telling her what a great guy you are.”

“True enough, I never could say no.”

I can feel my heart squeeze when he admits to that. I don’t want anyone else to have a hold over him. I want to be the only one he can’t say no to. He looks up and our eyes meet briefly before I turn away.

“Good, so you’ll call her, right?” Jenny asks.

“Jen. I’m serious here. The answer is no. Besides, there’s someone else that I’ve sort of become involved with.”

What does he mean ‘sort of’ become involved with? I wonder.

“Well, congratulations, Ken. I hope everything works out. Oh, and before I forget, I have something for you. A gift.”

“Gift?’

“Yeah. When I mentioned to Eric that I was coming to see you, he asked me to drop off a package for you,” she says as she pulls a small bag from her purse and hands to him.

Hutch’s eyes positively light up. He looks like a little kid who’s been told Christmas came early.

“Excellent. I didn’t think he’d have it finished so soon. Did he say what I owe him?”

“No. He just said to tell you to consider it as repaying the favor he owes you.”

I have to ask. “Who’s Eric?” I don’t remember Hutch ever mentioning anyone by that name.

“A mutual friend who works in a jewelry store. I asked him to do me a favor a while back.”

Not exactly the detailed answer I was looking for, but on a par with the kind of answers I usually get from my partner, when he doesn’t want to discuss something.

Jenny pays the check and we’re leaving. The two of them hug once more. I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from saying anything. I’m repeating to myself, She’s leaving, over and over again. I curse silently whatever part of my mind that just has to notice how good they look together.

Hutch kisses her cheek before saying, “Call me and let me know when you get back to town.”

“I will and take care of yourself. It was nice to meet you, David.”

“Nice meeting you, too.” I manage to sound as though I mean it, when what I really want to say is Glad you can’t stay. I breathe a quiet sigh of relief as her car pulls away and we head back to the office.

* * * *

Finally, it’s quitting time. I can’t wait to leave; I hate paperwork. It isn’t like chasing down leads or searching records. I can’t lose myself in it. It was hard to concentrate on the reports before Jenny showed up and after she left, I might as well have called it a day. The picture of her and Hutch hugging keeps going through my mind. I can’t help thinking of her as my competition, when I didn’t even know for a fact if she and Hutch had ever been lovers. Just torturing myself, I suppose. I did come to a decision though.

I needed to let Hutch know that this was more than just some casual sex thing. I need to tell him that I care deeply for him and I’m committed to more than just a sexual relationship. God, even thinking that makes me break out into a cold sweat.

I don’t have a problem with the commitment thing. What scares me is that he might not feel the same way. I’m not sure how I’ll be able to handle it if he tells me all he wanted was a good time. This is rapidly turning into one of those damned if I do and damned if I don’t situations.

I didn’t realize I’d sighed quite so loud until Hutch looks over at me, concern in his eyes.

“Starsky? You okay?”

At the office, he still calls me by my last name but away from work he hardly ever calls me Starsky now; he calls me David, something he never did before. I guess for him, it’s another way of separating his private life from his professional one. It isn’t until I notice Hutch’s growing look of concern that I realize I haven’t answered him yet.

“Yeah, Hutch. Just tired of typing.”

“I hear that.” Hutch stretches his arms over his head. I wince when I hear several vertebrae announce their presence.

“What do you say we call it a day, partner?”

“Amen to that.”

Together we head for the door. I haven’t figured it out yet but somehow, we always end up in step. I find that fact reassuring.

We’re alone in the elevator. Hutch takes advantage of that and reaches out caressing my cheek with the back of his hand. His touch is brief and gone all too soon. When I look over at him, he’s smiling slightly. I find myself smiling in return.

“That’s better.” He nods with satisfaction. “You were looking a little too serious there, Babe.” He caresses my cheek again, then traces a path across my temple and up to my forehead, easing tension I didn’t know was there. He removes his hand when the ding of the elevator lets us know we’ve reached the parking garage.

“You coming to the house?”

I nod. “I’ll be out a little later. I need to go run a few errands first.” I’m hoping that I’ll have my thoughts together when I’m done. I need to prepare myself in case things don’t turn out well. No matter what happens, I want our partnership to continue. Of that, I’m certain.

Hutch cocks his head to one side studying me. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Don’t know. But you seem a little…” Hutch shrugs one shoulder. “Well, a little too much in your own head today.”

Trust Blondie not to miss a trick.

“I’m fine.”

“You’re sure?” He gives me another searching glance.

“I’m sure.” I try to sound confident. I need him to believe me. I can’t get into this just yet. I’m not ready. Hell, I may never be ready.

“Okay.” Hutch nods. “I’ll see you later then.”

I know he isn’t totally convinced because I can hear the promise in his last statement. If for some reason I chicken out and decide to just stay at my place, I know without a doubt he’ll come looking for me to find out what’s wrong. I’m momentarily tempted to do just that, but I know better. If things don’t go well, I’ll need the space, and it’ll be easier to leave Hutch’s place than it will be to get him to leave mine.

I drive around for a while trying to get my thoughts in order. I take the long way out to the beach and use the time to go over in my head what I want to say. I know these planned speeches never work, or at least they never have for me, but I feel better knowing what I want to say in advance. I want to have all my arguments in place just in case I need them.

I pull in and park my car next to his, in what is rapidly becoming my spot. I chuckle at that. Oh yes, I definitely want to make a permanent place for myself here. Funny how life works, isn’t it?

I look for Hutch in the house, but he isn’t there. I should have known he’d be on the beach.

I go out the back door and pause to take a deep breath. I’ve never admitted it to anyone, but Hutch’s back deck has become my favorite spot. It’s peaceful here. With my eyes closed, I can pretend that there isn’t another person for miles. Which is quite a switch in thinking coming from a city boy like me.

Opening my eyes, I search for some sign of my wayward friend and lover. I spot him down at the beach looking at the ocean and I walk down to meet him. He looks up and smiles as I come along beside him. He gives me a gentle kiss then puts his arm around my shoulders; my arm automatically goes around his waist. We stand and watch the sunset over the water. I take a deep breath. I can smell the scents I usually associate with Hutch: his soap and aftershave, the leather of the jacket he’s wearing and something that is uniquely Hutch. Suddenly my carefully rehearsed speech has just vanished from my head and I find myself searching for something to say.

“You want to tell me what’s on your mind?” he asks suddenly as he turns to face me. The question is simple and direct. Trust him to get right to the heart of the matter.

I take a deep breath and try to brace myself. “Seeing you with Jenny today… well, I started thinking about us. The truth is I was thinking about us before Jenny showed up, just not the same way. Since the night of the storm… we’ve been… we’ve been, well—”

“Doing the horizontal mambo? Going at it like dogs in heat? Fucking like bunnies?”

“No!” I shout. I can feel my temper getting the better of me. That isn’t how I would have described what happened between us, and I’m pissed that he might see it that way. “We’ve been making love.”

Hutch reaches out like he did in the elevator, his expression soft. “I wasn’t sure you knew that.”

I slap his hand away. “What the hell does that mean?”

Hutch steps away from me and says, “In the all the years I’ve known you, you haven’t had a single relationship that’s lasted more than a month.”

I can’t help but recognize the truth in that statement. I’m still angry though.

“You think that means I don’t know anything about love? That I’m just some horny bastard with an itch to scratch? A dog looking for a table leg?”

“No. I think that means you don’t know much about going the long haul.”

“Maybe I just never found anyone worth going the distance for.”

“Is that what you wanted to tell me?”

“No… Yes… Maybe.”

Hutch raises an eyebrow. “Are you going to tell me which it is, or are you going leave it up to me to just pick one?”

I take a deep breath and search his face. I make eye contact and force myself to hold it. Before I can even organize my thoughts, words start tumbling out of my mouth.

“I wanted to tell you that seeing you with Jenny today bothered me. Hell, it more than just bothered me, I was jealous. She’s beautiful. And you’ve got so much in common. There’s a history between you that I couldn’t even hope to match. You could have a nice, normal relationship with her. The kind of relationship you wouldn’t have to hide from your friends or your coworkers. You could have kids with her if you wanted to. I couldn’t help but think of her as the competition.”

I close the gap between us in a single step. Hutch opens his mouth to say something, and I cover his lips with the tips of my fingers. I just keep talking afraid of what he might say.

“That’s when I realized it wouldn’t be much of a contest because I’d never told you how I felt. Because I’d never told you that this thing between us is more than just sex for me. I know my track record stinks and that you might think I was just out for a good time and let the devil take tomorrow. I knew that if I never told you different… if I didn’t tell you that this was more than just sex… you could walk away.”

I take a deep breath. “I knew you would walk away at some point. And I can’t… let you. ‘Cause,” I swallow hard and force myself to make eye contact, “I love you.”

Hutch looks stunned. He’s definitely got a “deer caught in the headlights” look. He reaches up to remove my hand, holding it gently. “Do you mean that?” His voice is little more than a whisper.

“Yes. I mean that.” I tried to think of some way to say this so he’ll know that I’m serious. “I, David Starsky, love you, Kenneth Hutchinson.” I reach out and kiss him deeply. God, he tastes good. I could live on his kisses. Right at this moment, I don’t need anything else.

When we finally pull apart, I’m a little dizzy and Hutch is smiling. “Damn, if I’d known Jenny showing up would cause this kind of reaction. I’d have asked her to stop by sooner.”

“You’re okay with this? The way I feel, I mean?”

Hutch’s expression is a mixture of affection and amusement. “You thought… what? I’d be upset that you love me?” Hutch shakes his head. “You know, you can sometimes ask the stupidest questions.” His smile takes the bite out of that comment.

I look down. “Wasn’t sure if you wanted to hear how I feel. I mean, you haven’t exactly said how you feel, or asked—”

Hutch cuts me off, his eyes search mine.

“I didn’t say anything because I wasn’t sure you were ready to hear it. I didn’t want to scare you by moving too fast.” I move to pull away but Hutch won’t let me. “And before you go getting all insulted, just hear me out.” Hutch seems suddenly shy, and looks away.

“I thought you had to feel something for me when this thing between us went on longer than anything you’ve ever had with anybody else. I knew you’d been looking at me as more than just a partner and friend for a while before that night. I just didn’t know how serious you wanted to be.”

Hutch sighs quietly. He looks up. “I told you that night that I’d thought about this. But I had to be sure that if we took this step, it wouldn’t get in the way of us being partners or friends. That meant I was prepared to deal with it if you were just looking to… how’d you put it? ‘Scratch an itch.’ And I was more than ready if you wanted it to be more. Truth is, I’ve been in love with you for a long time. I just didn’t want to tell you. I was afraid you didn’t feel the same way.”

It’s funny how often we think alike. I knew exactly what he meant. I’d come over here afraid to tell him how I felt because I wasn’t sure he felt the same way. I’d been down that road before with other people. Seems the fastest way to ruin any relationship is to have one person care more than the other.

Then I realize what he just said.

“You mean you weren’t going to say anything? Not one damn word to me about how you felt?”

“Not until you were ready to hear it… No.”

“And just how in the hell were you going to know when I was ready?”

Hutch’s mouth quirked upward in a half-smile. “I knew you’d tell me.”

Suddenly I’m laughing. If I had any doubts about the rightness of how I feel or how he feels I can put them to rest. Anyone who knows me this well will definitely be worth the effort of going the long haul.

I pull him into me again for another kiss. I stop just before my lips reach his. At this distance the eye contact is so intense, I’m not sure how long I can hold it. I feel like his eyes are seeing right into my soul. When our lips meet, it’s soft and gentle, like the first time we kissed. There’s an amazing amount of promise in that simple kiss.

Hutch pulls away with a soft sigh. “What do you say we take this into the house?”

“Sounds like a plan, Blintz.”

As we start to walk back he takes the small bag from his jacket pocket and thoughtfully turns it over in his hands. My curiosity is piqued.

“Aren’t you going to open it?”

“I don’t need to. I’ve seen Eric’s work before.”

I shake my head at that. There’s no way I’d be able to trust that someone just did what I’d asked them to do… at least not without checking up on them.

Hutch looks at me and smiles.

“It isn’t like I really have to see it. I sort of designed it, so I already know what it looks like. Besides, it isn’t for me.”

Okay. I’ll bite. “I thought Jenny said Eric made it for you as a gift?”

Hutch considers that statement for a minute. “I guess you could call it a gift from Eric to me since I asked him to make it and he didn’t charge me for it. Only thing is that it isn’t for me. I had him make it for you.”

That stops me cold. I reach out to grab his arm halting him as well. “You had him make something for me?”

That warm feeling I had the first night we made love is back again. I wonder if he’s always going to be able to surprise me. He had a friend make something for me! Something he designed.

Now I’m really curious about what’s in the bag. I try not to sound too eager when I ask, “So… am I going to get to see it?”

“Yeah.” Hutch looks decidedly amused.

Apparently, I failed at trying to sound casual, so the hell with it, I’ll just be direct. “When? Now? Tonight?”

“Bet you were the kind of kid who snuck downstairs early on your birthday morning before anyone else got up.” Hutch chuckles.

“Maybe. Just answer the question.”

“Yes. How’s that?”

“Yes, what?”

“I’ll give it to you tonight. Feel better?”

Underneath the humor in his eyes, I could see faint traces of tension. It struck me suddenly that despite his teasing, he was nervous about giving me whatever it was. I reach out to caress his arm.

“Hey,” I keep my voice soft, “don’t worry. I can wait if you want me to.” He leans into my touch briefly before pulling away.

At the door, we take off our shoes before going inside. I shake my head, thinking I spend more time in my stocking feet here than I have any other time in my life. When I glance up, Hutch is standing an arm’s length away. He reaches into the bag and pulls out a small, black velvet box. He looks down at it, his expression serious, before his eyes rise to meet mine.

“Do you remember when we went on vacation right after we got out of the academy? We drove up the coast and stopped at that little inn that looked out over the ocean. We had this wonderful view of the lighthouse on the bluff overlooking the water. It was then that you told me that you told me that you always loved lighthouses. I never forgot that. I wanted to give you something that would let you know… how I feel about you.” Hutch shrugs one shoulder and looks away. “This isn’t coming out right.” After a moment, he sighs and simply hands the box to me. “Just open it.”

I reach out and take the box. Opening it carefully, I’m stunned by what I see. Inside is an oval silver pendant, roughly an inch and a half long. In raised relief, outlined in gold, is an exact replica of a lighthouse. The detail is so perfect, I can see the grillwork around the tower and I almost expect to see a light coming from the top. On the back, our initials, S H, are engraved in an interlocking design so intricate that it’s hard to tell where one leaves off and the other starts. Also engraved are the words: “Forever: Me and Thee.” Describing it as beautiful would be an understatement. It’s magnificent.

“Do you like it?” Hutch asks with some hesitation. His whole body is tense, braced for rejection.

“Like it? God… Hutch, it’s beautiful,” I breathe out in a whisper. “It’s more than beautiful.”

Hutch’s entire stance suddenly relaxes, and he smiles. “I’m glad you like it.”

“Like it? ” I reach out, pull him to me, and hug him hard. I whisper in his ear, “I love it. Thank you.”

He pulls back slightly and kisses me. I reach up and tilt his head for a better angle. My tongue probes his mouth, eager to explore that wonderfully familiar territory. If I live to be a hundred, I will never get enough of tasting him.

His hands are busy pulling at my shirt. Nimble fingers rapidly unbutton it. I moan into his mouth when I feel his hands gliding over my chest. I love the feel of his hands.

“I need a shower. You want to join me?” He asks in between kisses, nuzzling my neck.

“Sure. A shower with you sounds good.”

I’m not sure how we made it down the hall because he never actually let go of me. Blondie can be a little single minded about certain things and getting where he wants to go is one of them. By the time we get to the bathroom, both of us have lost our shirts and my pants are undone. Only reason his aren’t is because I only have one hand to work with. I manage to set the box with my present down on the bathroom vanity and put both hands to work getting him out of his clothes.

I drink in the sight of him naked like a desert absorbs a spring downpour. He turns his back to me long enough to turn the water on. He’s so lean, every muscle is visible when he moves. Not over developed, just the natural definition of a physically active man. And that definition makes watching the play of light and shadow across his skin absolutely fascinating.

“You’re so beautiful.”

Hutch just shakes his head as he adjusts the water temperature in the shower. “You don’t need to flatter me, you know. You already have me where you want me. Of course, I’ve got you where I want you, too. Works out well for both of us.”

He smiles over his shoulder at me and I return it. I let the issue of how he looks go for now, but someday I’ll convince him that he’s beautiful. I’ve got time.

Both of us get into the shower. The warm spray feels good, but not as good as Hutch does. Being close to the same height makes full body contact easy. Until now I hadn’t realized how much I enjoy that.

I reach up to run my fingers through his hair. Wet or dry, it’s incredibly soft. It’s yellow silk running between my fingers. A small moan escapes him. I rub gently, massaging his scalp and I can’t help but smile when that moan becomes a purr.

Hutch’s nimble fingers have located the bar of soap and he is carefully lathering every inch of me. I close my eyes to better enjoy the sensation of his hands gliding smoothly over my skin. I can hear him murmuring, “I can’t believe you think I’m beautiful. When I look at you there’s just no way. You’re perfect. You’ve this olive skin and your body is gorgeous, like a Greek god.”

He’s running fingers through my hair now, and I can see why he enjoys that feeling. “You have this dark curly hair that feels so good to touch.” I open my eyes. “And you’ve got those beautiful blue eyes. Except now they’re almost black.” He smiles at me. “I like them best when they look just like that.”

He kisses my chin, then my cheek and my temple. His lips ghost softly over my eyelids before finally ending up on my mouth. His touch is so gentle it’s like feeling a butterfly land. Before meeting Hutch, I never would have dreamed that such a soft touch could be such a turn on.

I take the soap from him and begin lathering his skin. I lavish extra attention on those wonderfully sensitive nipples of his. He’s making those breathy little moans that make my skin tingle. He isn’t loud, but he is definitely vocal. Those little moans and sighs let me know how much he’s enjoying my actions as much as I am. He stretches, arching into my touch just like a cat.

“David, I want you inside me.” His voice is nothing but a husky whisper. I could be dead three days and that voice would still have the power to make me hard as a rock.

“You sure?”

“Oh, yeah, I’m sure.”

A stray thought runs through my mind. Until now I never realized what wonderful lubricant bath oil makes. I gently insert a finger. He sighs quietly, rocking his hips slowly and reaching out to touch my penis. I stop him.

“If you touch me, I won’t last.” I take a deep breath then insert another finger. It’s hard to take this slow, but I don’t want to hurt him. Finally, I have three fingers in him. I rub one across his prostate and I’m rewarded with a long full body shudder. I do it again. His whole body throbs next to me.

“Turn around,” I say softly. He leans into me, making sure that he maintains full contact as he turns. I can’t help the hiss of pleasure that slips out when he does that. He braces both hands against the wall. I’m mesmerized at the sight of water cascading down his back.

I apply the oil to my penis. I’m careful to penetrate him slowly, giving his body time to accommodate me. I wait until I feel him relax around me before I move. God, he feels good. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to how good this feels.

I start out moving slowly, rocking my hips in time with his, letting Hutch set the pace. I lean into him, reaching my arms around so I can play with his nipples. His fingers spread out against the tiles and flex in response to my touch. I can hear him panting. My own breathing isn’t all that steady.

“Feels so good, David. God… feels so… good.” Hutch moves a hand to touch himself, but I slap it away.

“No.”

He whimpers, but puts his hand back on the wall. I run my hand up and down his chest lightly, teasing him. He does another one of those full body shudders when I angle enough to hit his prostate with my cock. I know he’s close and so am I. I reach down to his cock and stroke leisurely, matching the rhythm of our hips. Hutch moans softly and tilts his head back. I kiss his shoulder, and bite lightly.

“You want to come, lover?”

Hutch’s yes comes out as one long moan. The tempo of our movements increases. I start pumping harder and faster, Hutch matching me. We are so in tune with each other that I’m not sure who’s setting the pace anymore.

I make sure that I’m hitting his prostate every time now. That full body shudder is beginning to rock Hutch repeatedly. It’s almost as if his orgasm is starting as a small tremor in his toes, growing in intensity as it moves upward.

He comes in a sudden explosion. I can feel the muscle contraction from inside him. My eyes roll back when my own orgasm follows. My legs feel shaky and I lean into him, trying to catch my breath. I breathe deeply, taking in the scent of his skin, wishing I could stay here forever.

It isn’t long before I feel the water beginning to cool. Hutch sighs quietly when I move away and pull free. We each quickly wash the evidence of our pleasure off our relaxed bodies. He reaches to turn off the water and I grab a towel for each of us. Hutch’s movements are slow and dreamy as he dries off. He has that “just-been-laid” look. I catch a glimpse of myself in the steamy mirror and grin when I realize I’m wearing the same look.

Hutch hangs up his towel and I’m forced to catch my breath when he leaves the bathroom naked. I know he doesn’t do it on purpose. He’s so casual about his body that I think he honestly has no idea what the sight of him naked does to me. His very maleness is a potent attraction.

I’m running my fingers through my wet hair trying to give it some semblance of order when Hutch returns. He’s dressed in a pair of sweats and a T-shirt. He hands me the robe I have appropriated since the first night I stayed. I slip into it, enjoying its softness and warmth. I pick up the box and remove the pendant. I undo the clasp and reach to put it around my neck, when Hutch stops me with a touch.

“Let me.”

He deftly secures the clasp and then wraps his arms around me. Resting his head on my shoulder, our eyes meet in the bathroom mirror. Hutch smiles; his eyes sparkle. “It looks good on you.”

“Not as good as you do.”

Hutch shakes his head and pats my chest before letting go. “You hungry?”

I consult my stomach. “Yeah.”

“Good.” He moves away and heads for the kitchen.

I look in the mirror again. The pendant seems to glow next to my skin. I’m still stunned that he had someone make this for me. The design is perfect. I can wear it all the time without anyone noticing. Which is good because I don’t plan to ever take it off. Smiling, I join Hutch in the kitchen to see what he’s found for dinner.

Later that night I’m lying in bed with Hutch. He’s almost asleep; I can feel his body relaxing next to me. I snuggle in closer, just enjoying how good it feels.

“Hutch?”

“Hmm.”

“Thank you.”

“For what?”

“Everything.” I can feel his smile against my skin. He shifts slightly, turning so he can make eye contact. He searches my face for a minute.

“David, you’re more than welcome.” He closes his eyes and relaxes even further into me.

“Hutch?”

“Hmm.” He opens sleepy eyes to look at me again.

“I love you.”

“Love you, too, David.”

I relax completely. I know I’ll sleep well tonight.

Chapter 3

Day One Seminar

Hutch sighed quietly. He checked his watch before glancing up from his notebook to see if the speaker was still talking. This guy should come with some kind of warning label. His damn monotone could be deadly. Whoever scheduled him as the last speaker should be dragged out into the street and shot! Repeatedly.

He smiled fondly at the soundly sleeping handsome man at his right. His partner had given up all pretense of listening some ten minutes after this speaker started talking. At least he isn’t snoring.

Hutch shook his head, not really blaming Starsky for falling asleep. In addition to Mr. Monotone (as Hutch had mentally dubbed the speaker), the room was too warm. And dimming the lights had been a major mistake. There were only a handful of hardy souls who were still awake enough to be actually listening.

Hutch’s gaze came back to rest on the paper in front of him. He’d spent the better part of the afternoon doodling. It helped to keep him awake and created the illusion he was actually paying attention. At least one of them had to stay awake because Dobey was sure to ask them about this seminar.

Another two days of this! Dear God. We must have pissed him off royally to get sent to this damn thing.

Hutch sighed again. That thought wasn’t entirely fair. Dobey had probably thought he was doing them a favor. The past few weeks had been stressful; to say the least, and three days in Sacramento probably didn’t seem like such a bad idea. It wasn’t like he really had a choice. The Chief of Police was adamant that every department send a team to this seminar. Hutch snorted, thinking about the title, “Coordinating Agency Efforts in Law Enforcement”.

Yeah. Sure. That’ll be the day.

He had to admit that the speakers they’d heard that morning were interesting. Both he and Starsky had honestly learned a few things. It wasn’t until after lunch, that the whole thing started to seem like some sort of refined form of torture. A scheduling error at the hotel had forced them to switch rooms. This one was hot, stuffy and the seats ranked right up there with the comfort level of economy class on most airplanes.

Hutch glanced over at Starsky again. He had removed his jacket, balled it up and used it as a pillow. He’d also rolled up his sleeves, and undone the top few buttons of his shirt. Hutch could just make out the pendant he’d given him two months ago. Every time he inhaled, it flickered in the faint light.

Right up until he’d given it to him, Hutch hadn’t been entirely certain his gift would be well received. He knew his friend, Eric, made beautiful things, and having created the design himself, he had no doubt that it would be made into a true work of art. He just wasn’t certain enough of where their relationship stood to offer it. At least not until Starsky had finally let him know how committed to their relationship he was. He saw no reason to wait after that, and offering it had been easy. He knew that since then, Starsky had only removed the pendant long enough to shower. Hutch had no doubts about how much he treasured it.

All Hutch wanted to do was to simply spend his time taking in the view his sleeping lover presented, but he knew it wouldn’t be a good idea to be caught doing so.

Although among the minority, he wasn’t the only one still awake. With a small sigh of regret, Hutch forced his eyes away from the tantalizing image his lover presented and looked back at the speaker. Finally, he was getting to something that could be called a closing statement. Hutch nudged Starsky with an elbow and was rewarded with a grunt and a sleepy, blue-eyed glare.

“Rise and shine, Starsky. It looks like this is about over,” Hutch whispered.

Starsky straightened up in his chair. He rubbed both hands over his face and made an effort to look more alert. Starsky nodded toward Hutch’s notebook. “You take notes?” he asked in a low voice.

“More or less… emphasis on less. Got the important point.”

Starsky raised an eyebrow. “There was a point?”

Hutch grinned. “Oh, yes.” The speakers talk had been entitled, Evidence Contamination and How to Avoid Forensic Errors.

“What was it?”

“Don’t touch anything.”

Starsky snorted and looked at his watch. “It took him an hour and a half to say that. He couldn’t have condensed it a little?”

Hutch shrugged. “Count your blessings. At least he’s the last one.”

“For today, anyway. Wanna bet they’ll be worse tomorrow?”

“Always gotta look on the bright side, don’t you, Starsk?”

Starsky’s reply was lost when the light came on full. Both men blinked at the sudden illumination. There was scattered applause throughout the audience. Hutch suspected it was more from relief that it was finally over than as any true statement of what the audience thought of the speaker. One of the organizers appeared on stage to thank them all for coming and to remind them that the seminar would reconvene tomorrow at 9:00 am.

“What do you say we get the hell out of here while the getting’s good?” Starsky suggested

“I say amen, brother. Amen.”

Hutch watched appreciatively as Starsky rose and stretched. He found himself admiring his partner’s easy grace and dark good looks. Damn, he’s a handsome man. Realizing he was staring again, Hutch shook himself and stood. He felt stiff from having been in one position for so long. It was one of life’s little mysteries how spending an entire day more or less inactive could be so damn exhausting.

They made their way toward the door, moving easily through the crowd of other attendees. There were several hundred people present, all representing different agencies and branches of law enforcement. Federal, state, and local organizations had all sent personnel.

Hutch couldn’t help the faint smirk he felt creep across his face as he silently watched the federal agents moving toward the door ahead of him. You can always pick them out of crowd, suits and ties all the way. Some part of him sincerely hoped they’d been very uncomfortable all afternoon.

He turned toward Starsky to share his sentiment when he noticed the change in his posture. Someone less in tune with his body language wouldn’t notice the subtle difference in the set of his shoulders, or how he shifted his weight to balance more on the balls of his feet. Starsky was definitely preparing for some kind of confrontation. I’ve seen that look on his face before and it always means trouble.

Not sure what would cause his partner’s sudden change in attitude, Hutch scanned the crowd before them. A federal agent was making a beeline in their direction. Out of habit, Hutch made note of his appearance. Roughly 5′ 10″, medium build, approximately 180 pounds, blond, blue eyes, somewhere between 45 and 50 years old. Typical clean-cut look that most FBI agents sported. Not knowing exactly what it was about this man that set his partner on edge and knowing there was no way to avoid him, Hutch decided to wait, letting Starsky take the lead.

The man smiled easily. Hutch couldn’t help but think it was the same smile he usually saw on used car salesmen. He stopped in front of Starsky, searching his face. “David Starsky? It is you, isn’t it?”

“Special Agent Corbin.” Hutch noticed that Starsky’s tone was definitely not one of welcome.

I believe Mr. Corbin could get frostbite just from that. I wonder what he did to piss off my partner.

“You have to be the last person I expected to run into here.” Starsky just stared at the agent without answering.

Corbin looked a little embarrassed by that, but undeterred, he turned to Hutch and held out a hand. “I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m Special Agent Corbin. I work with the Bureau’s Organized Crime Division in LA.”

Hutch glanced at the offered hand, but didn’t shake it. “Sergeant Hutchinson, Bay City P.D. Starsky’s partner.” His tone made it clear he wasn’t any more interested in conversation than Starsky had been.

Hutch didn’t care for FBI agents just on general principle. And since Starsky’s whole demeanor indicated he had taken a personal dislike to this particular agent, it was more than enough reason to be rude.

Corbin’s smile turned a little rueful and he dropped his hand. Turning back toward Starsky, he said, “Guess I shouldn’t have expected a warm reception from you or your partner.”

“No, you shouldn’t have.” Starsky moved to shoulder past Corbin.

Corbin deftly stepped in front of him. “Look. Okay, you and I both know that I know your life’s story, about what happened to your father, about what happened in Brooklyn that caused your mom to send you to live with your uncle, and even how Nicky died. Watching the families is what I do. It’s my job to know stuff like that.” He took a breath, his expression earnest. “I was thinking that maybe now, given everything that’s happened, with Nicky and all, you’d be more interested in what I have to say.”

“You thought wrong.”

Once more Starsky moved to step past Corbin and Corbin again stepped in front of him. Starsky positively radiated barely controlled hostility. This man is a slow learner. In a minute Starsky’s gonna let him have it.

“Maybe we could get a drink, talk for a while and…”

“No.”

“If you would just give me a minute to—”

With the speed of a striking snake, Starsky reached out with both hands. Hutch noted that instead of a simple straight grab, Starsky had crossed his wrists, one over the other, so that when he wrapped his hands in Corbin’s jacket lapels, he could pull the fabric tightly across his throat, effectively choking him.

Hutch couldn’t help but admire that move. It was subtle, quick, and very smooth.

Nice. Very nice.

Starsky had also pulled Corbin up slightly so he was balancing on his toes. There was no way he would be able to easily escape Starsky’s hold.

Hutch kept one eye on the other people in the room hoping no one would notice his partner effectively choking the life out of a federal agent. It wouldn’t do for any of Corbin’s coworkers to get involved.

Now that could get ugly!

So far they’d been lucky and no one was paying much attention to them.

With Starsky’s face only inches from Corbin’s, he spoke in a quiet, almost conversational voice, that belied its deadly nature. “No, means no. I wasn’t interested then and I’m not interested now.” Starsky emphasized his point by tightening his grip. “Understand?” Starsky waited for Corbin to acknowledge.

“Yes.” His reply was really little more than a movement of his lips.

Starsky nodded once sharply. “Good. Now you just pretend that you never saw me and we didn’t have this little conversation. You speak to me again, or come anywhere near me. and I will shoot you. Right. Between. The. Eyes.” Starsky punctuated each word by increasing the pressure on Corbin’ throat.

They were starting to draw attention, so Hutch reached out a hand and carefully encircled one of Starsky’s wrists. “Better let up now, Starsky. Man’s lips are turning blue. The captain isn’t going to be happy if he hears you killed a federal agent and started a riot here. Besides the paperwork on that would take the rest of our natural lives and that isn’t how I want to spend mine.”

Starsky glanced over at Hutch. The icy fury in his eyes abated, and he smirked slightly. “You’re right. The paperwork would be a bitch.” With that, he released Corbin and walked away.

Corbin gasped, rubbing at his throat. He looked at Hutch and croaked, “Thank you.”

Hutch shook his head slightly. “You can thank me by doing like Starsky said. Just pretend you never saw him and stay the hell out of his way.” Hutch moved to walk away, then stopped and looked back over his shoulder. “Just so you know, he meant what he said about shooting you.” With that, Hutch walked off to find his partner.

He found Starsky near the elevators. Hutch decided it might be best to wait until they were back in their room before bringing up what just happened. It would give Starsky a chance to cool off and there was no need to air any more laundry in a public setting. The trip in the elevator and to the room was made in silence.

Once safely in their room, Hutch asked quietly, “You want to tell me what that was all about?”

Starsky stalked across the room. He kept his back to Hutch, facing the windows. “I’d rather not.”

“You, my friend, just assaulted a federal agent in a room full of witnesses. And to add insult to injury, you threatened to kill the man! Behavior like that requires an explanation.”

Starsky’s back stiffened, but he didn’t turn around. “It’s personal, Hutch.”

“I figured that much out on my own, thank you very much. You want to start telling me what it is I don’t know?”

“Just leave it alone.”

“No can do.”

Starsky spun around to face him. “And why in the hell not?”

“Because when Dobey finds out about this, and you know he will, it’ll be both of our asses. I want to know what it is I put my butt on the line for.”

“You’d tell him?” Starsky looked shocked.

“Don’t be stupid. I didn’t just keep you from killing Corbin so I could go running to Dobey,” Hutch shouted. Taking a deep breath, he tried to keep his voice level. “It won’t be me that tells him. But anyone in that room could have seen what was going on. You know that as well as I do. And Corbin might not be willing to just let it lie.”

“He won’t tell anyone about this.”

“You seem pretty damn sure of that.”

“I know him.”

“I got that detail already. Any time you want to chime in with new information, be my guest.”

Hutch leaned back against the door and crossed his arms over his chest as Starsky began pacing the room like a caged tiger. Mentally, he began counting to see just how long it would take for his volatile partner to open up. He’d reached the count of twenty when Starsky spoke again.

“It’s a long story.”

“Well, it isn’t like I have a train to catch.”

“Maybe we should go get something to eat first?”

“We can eat later. This place offers room service until midnight.” Hutch watched as Starsky made another circuit of the room. “Talk to me.” He was careful to make that sound like a request and not an order. “Please.”

Starsky stopped pacing long enough to make eye contact. “Fine. Sit down already.” Starsky waved a hand toward a chair. “One of us might as well be comfortable.”

Hutch sat in one of the plush chairs and then leaned back to wait. He watched Starsky continue to pace the confines of the room. Watching him, Hutch thought, I’d get dizzy doing that.

“For you to understand this, I have to give you some history.”

“Fair enough.”

Starsky stopped pacing again to study Hutch’s face.

Hutch wasn’t sure what to make of Starsky’s expression, so he just waited silently. He didn’t know where this was going to go, so he had no idea of what to say that would make it easier for his partner. Sometimes it’s best not to say anything with him. He finds the words faster on his own if I just wait long enough.

Starsky sighed quietly and began to speak softly. “Everyone in Brooklyn knows what happened to my dad. Yet, the whole time I was growing up, it was like this… forgone conclusion that I would join the ‘Family’ like Nicky eventually did. Start out as some hired muscle and work my way up the ladder. Or take over some of the smaller details, like gambling or prostitution.” Starsky snorted in disgust. “No one ever asked me what I wanted to do with my life. They’d already planned it for me, so why ask? That’s why Ma sent me to California. But even here it was pretty much the same. She didn’t know that Uncle Al had ties to the ‘Family’ out here.”

The pacing started again. “So the time comes for me to make my own choices. I wanted to go to college. I decided that being a no-neck, dumber than a box of rocks, stereotypical mob muscle-man was not for me.”

Starsky glanced over at Hutch, his expression serious. “You gotta understand that I knew a lot of guys like that. They were always hanging around my neighborhood in Brooklyn and I even saw the same type when I came out here. It got so I just thought of them as part of the landscape.”

Starsky’s expression turned bitter and his voice went hard and cold. “Most of the time they get treated like some kind of goddamn dog. Do what you’re told, when you’re told. Sit. Stay. Attack. Clean up the mess… like Nicky.” Starsky sighed and shook his head. “Even though I was only a kid, and didn’t know all the particulars at the time, I knew I didn’t want that.”

Starsky started pacing again. “No one had a problem with me going to college. I was always a good student, a bright kid. No one objected because even in mob families there is some semblance of being normal. And normal means that bright kids are supposed to go off to college. They all thought I was going to be a business major, because that would work with the ‘Family’ interests. There was only one problem. I wasn’t interested in studying business.”

Hutch smiled slightly. “I have trouble picturing you in a three-piece suit.”

“Yeah, me, too. ” Starsky gave him a matching smile before he took a deep breath and turned serious again. “Anyway, everyone thinks it’s great, especially when I opened my mouth and say I think I might want to be a lawyer.”

“Let me guess. You went from being a muscle man to a mouth piece?”

“Something like that. Wasn’t right away, but the closer I got to finishing my degree, the more I realized that everyone still expected me to go to work for the mob. I had just spent several years of my life studying the law and I’ve got people waiting for me to graduate so they can put me to work subjugating it.”

“Left a bad taste in your mouth, didn’t it?”

“Very.”

“So… you quit school?” Knowing how much value his family had placed on his doing more in college than just playing ball, Hutch couldn’t help but think of quitting school as a rather drastic solution.

Starsky nodded. “I just couldn’t see how I could finish my degree and start a practice that wouldn’t involve the ‘Family.’ I was even approached by a firm in Brooklyn wanting to know if I was interested in a position. It turns out they worked for the Syndicate there. I just couldn’t see myself spending my life defending people I knew… knew without a doubt, were guilty.”

“I can understand that.”

Starsky smiled warmly at Hutch. “I thought you might.”

“Why didn’t you just change your major? Find something else to be?”

“I thought about it. But the last semester I was there, I took a class in police procedure. Spent my time riding around with a couple of uniformed officers.”

“You got hooked,” Hutch stated.

“I got hooked,” Starsky agreed. “Decided that I could put my education to work just as well being a cop.”

“How’d the ‘Family’ take it?”

“It was sort of a mixed bag. Some, like Uncle Al, were okay, figuring it was my life and I was entitled to live it my way. Some thought it was just a rebellious phase, something I’d grow out of. And others thought I would be an asset to the family, sort of an automatic in with the police force. Ma was really proud of me just because I was going to school and trying to make something of myself. Then when I announced that I wanted to be a cop like my Dad, she was worried but she understood.”

“Must have been the dumb ones who thought you would snitch for them.” At Starsky’s raised eyebrow, Hutch continued, “Hell, I knew from the day I met you that you were too honest to ever be a dirty cop.”

Hutch was stunned by Starsky’s reaction to his simple statement of fact.

Starsky stepped over to him, leaned down, captured his mouth, and kissed him passionately and thoroughly. It was several minutes later before Starsky released him.

When Hutch caught his breath, he, asked, “Not that I’m complaining, but what was that for?”

“For being the first person to know that I am not, nor could I ever be, a dirty cop.”

“Well, you’re welcome.” Hutch grinned. He sobered quickly. “So far none of this explains your reaction to Special Agent Corbin.”

Starsky sighed and rubbed his cheek against Hutch’s hair. “I’m getting to that. Like I said, I wanted you to have the history. Sort of puts the rest of it into perspective.” Starsky straightened up. Hutch expected him to start pacing again, but he sat down in the opposite chair.

“I started the academy that fall. Like I said earlier, everyone knows what my uncle does. Some of the instructors, and quite a few of the other cadets, thought the same thing as some of my family. This was some sort of joke, or that I was only there to become a dirty cop. So in addition to proving myself to the ‘Family,’ I had to do it with them as well. It’s odd that you didn’t hear the rumors going around about me.”

Hutch nodded slowly. “I heard some things. It must have been rough.”

“It wasn’t easy.” Starsky shrugged. “But it wasn’t anything I couldn’t handle. The harder they made it for me, the more determined I became to prove them wrong. And after a while they started to think of me as just another guy. Until Corbin showed up that is.”

“He came with all the feds usual subtlety and tact, I suppose.”

“Oh, yeah, did he ever.” Starsky shook his head in disgust. “It was while you were out of class with the flu. He shows up at the academy with a parade of guys in dark suits and glasses. They call me out of class, in front of God and everyone, like I was in high school and had to be sent to the principal’s office.”

Hutch could tell the incident still made his lover angry. “Corbin isn’t exactly the sharpest knife in the drawer, huh?”

“No.” Starsky looked at the floor before making eye contact with Hutch. “But then the FBI always operates like they can do no wrong. That stupid prick actually thought I’d be grateful for the attention.”

Hutch went on. “In walks the FBI and everyone’s worst thoughts are somehow confirmed by their presence. So all the blood, sweat and tears you’d put into being accepted on your own terms was for nothing. That about the way it went down?”

“Yeah. That would just about sum it up nicely. It was worse than when I first got there. Instead of starting out at square one, I was in the hole.”

“Why did Corbin pick you?”

Starsky smiled sadly. “His group had my family under surveillance for years. Believe it or not, they thought that my dad was on the take and was only killed when he wanted more, to sort of make an example of him. The FBI had wiretaps on every phone, pictures… you name it and they had it. He thought my going to the academy might give them the break they needed to finally get the goods on Uncle Al and the rest here in California.”

“He wanted you to turn on your family?” Hutch was appalled. He didn’t approve of what Starsky’s uncle did for a living, but they were his family. And a blind man should have been able to see that his family meant the world to Starsky. He might not have wanted to be a part of the ‘Family’ business, but that didn’t mean he no longer wanted to be part of his family.

Starsky sighed. “He gave me this song and dance routine about what a great opportunity this was for me to put, and I quote, ‘some of the country’s worst scumbags in jail.’ Never mind the fact that I was related to half of them. He starts telling me what a great career move this would be and how if I’m serious about a job in law enforcement, I can’t afford to pass this up. He wanted me to go in undercover and help them take down my family.”

“What did you tell him?”

“I told him to go to hell.”

Hutch chuckled. “You got a real way with words there, buddy.”

Starsky glared at him. “I suppose you think I should have taken the job.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t have to.” Starsky sprang out of the chair and began pacing again. “Hell, everyone else, and I do mean everyone, thought I should have taken the offer. My turning them down was just proof that I really didn’t want to be a good cop.”

Hutch sighed quietly, before moving to stand in front of Starsky, effectively stopping his partner’s latest lap around the room. He calmly met Starsky’s angry blue eyes. “Don’t go putting words in my mouth. You know me better by now. Just because everyone else thought you should have taken Corbin’s offer, doesn’t mean I think that. All I meant was there was probably a better way to say no. I know why you turned him down.”

“Oh, really! Why?” Starsky shot back angrily.

“Because going undercover means you step out of your life into someone else’s. Which means that eventually you get to have your life back. If you had said yes, you wouldn’t have a life anymore. I might not totally understand the relationship you’ve had with your uncle, but I understand family. And I know how much they mean to you.”

His own relationship with his family was nothing like Starsky’s. Outside of his sister, most of his family was not an important part of his life. For Hutch, the less he saw of his family the better. But for Starsky, an extended family played a central role. They were literally everything to him.

Hutch sighed softly. “Hell, you’re upset for weeks when you can’t visit them whenever you want. I can’t imagine what you’d be like if you were ever totally cut off. No phone calls, no letters, no cards, no pictures of cousins and their kids as they grow up. Because once you did what Corbin asked, he’d have you shipped off to… wherever and you’d never have any contact with any of them again. Ever. Assuming, of course, that they let you live that long.”

Hutch watched his partner carefully as his anger faded away.

“Why didn’t anyone else see that?” Starsky’s question was almost a plea for understanding.

“‘Cause most people see only what they want to. They wanted you to fit in the box they already had. When you didn’t…” Hutch shrugged. “You already know how that works.”

He stepped back and studied Starsky warily. There’s definitely more to this story than what he’s telling me. “Based on what I saw downstairs, Corbin isn’t exactly the kind of man to take no for an answer.”

“He is one persistent son-of-a-bitch.” Starsky grimaced. “He made more than one offer and I always told him the same thing. While I was a cadet, it wasn’t any more than him just asking. Once I started working as a patrolman, long before you and I were partnered together, he started to try pressuring my commanding officer.”

“Didn’t work?” Hutch sat down again, sensing Starsky needed to start pacing once more.

“Captain Johnson hated the mob and the FBI with equal passion. With someone else, they might have made headway in trying to force the issue, but not him. He was one tough cookie. A real stickler for doing things the right way, and not just by the book, if you know what I mean.”

Starsky looked over at Hutch. “Department policy was that undercover work was done strictly on a volunteer basis and Johnson made it very clear, to both Corbin and the higher ups, that if I didn’t want to volunteer, he wasn’t going to order me to. He said the department had enough trouble finding good men, and he’d be damned if he was going to give up one he didn’t have to.”

Hutch chuckled at that. “I think I would have liked him.”

Starsky sighed. “Unfortunately, Corbin decided to try and force me into volunteering.”

“How?”

“They would make little busts here and there and then let it slip that I was the one who’d given them the information. He wanted it to seem like I was some kind of stoolie.”

Hutch went completely still. He forced himself to take a deep breath and then another. His hands gripped the arms of the chair so tightly, his knuckles turned white. That stupid, vindictive son-of-a-bitch. I should have let Starsky strangle him. It took him several minutes to get his rage under control enough to speak. And judging by the look on Starsky’s face, he’d better say something soon. His partner was starting to look worried.

“Jesus, David. Was he trying to get you killed?” Hutch breathed out in a harsh whisper.

“Not exactly. I think he wanted to force me into a position where I had to either go to the FBI for protection or give up being a cop.”

“How bad did it get?” Hutch asked quietly.

Starsky stopped pacing. He shook his head. “It wasn’t—”

“How bad, David?” Hutch asked again with a little more force. He had to know.

“Corbin kept up the pressure and people were starting to think I really was some kind of stoolie. Uncle Al let me know that he didn’t believe any of it, but that some of the others weren’t quite so trusting. Al never really did business at home, but it was getting close to the point where I wasn’t really welcome at his house. My being there was… well, just too damn, difficult for everyone.”

Starsky sighed softly, and Hutch could see just how much it hurt for him to say that. He hated to see his lover in any kind of pain. I might just shoot Corbin myself the next time I see him.

With a wry smile, Starsky continued speaking. “Some of the other cops were worried about working with me. No one ever said anything out right, but it was getting harder and harder to get back-up. They didn’t want to get caught in any cross fire and to be honest, I can’t really blame them.”

Well, I can and I do. You never leave a fellow cop vulnerable like that. Ever, Hutch thought savagely, but refrained from saying so. Instead, he asked, “Well, you obviously didn’t quit or join the FBI, so what happened?”

“I was wearing a wire when I went to see Corbin.”

Atta boy. That’s using your head. Hutch grinned. “You got the prick on tape.”

“Yeah, I did. Got the whole sordid little story on tape and then I took it to Johnson. He was absolutely livid.”

“I can imagine.” I’m kind of glad I didn’t know this downstairs. Livid wouldn’t even begin to cover it.

“Johnson went to the higher ups and even took on Corbin’s boss. He said it was bad enough that we had to deal with criminals, putting our lives on the line just doing our jobs. Said he’d be damned if he was going to see one of his men put at risk just because some fucking fed felt the need for an ego stroke.”

“Corbin was forced to back off?”

Starsky nodded. “I didn’t see or hear from him until today.” Starsky shrugged one shoulder. “That is… if you don’t count the day of Nicky’s funeral.”

“He showed up at the funeral? Man must have cast iron balls.” Hutch shook his head in disgust. Who in the hell shows up at a funeral, for God’s sake? Bastard.

“No, it wasn’t Corbin. An FBI agent I’d never met before waited around for me after the funeral. He never said so, but I’m sure he either worked with or for Corbin. He’d heard about the hit on Nicky and thought I might want to come in for my own protection.” Starsky snorted. “Made his offer a little too late. Uncle Al had already worked out a deal. He told the ‘Family’ in New York that he would stay out of the east coast end of the business if they would stay away from the west coast and leave his family alone. Especially me since I didn’t have anything to do with the business.”

“Would you have taken his offer if your uncle hadn’t already worked something out?” Hutch was careful not to show just how much the answer to that question meant to him.

“No! Not just no, but hell no.”

Hutch smiled, reassured by the vehemence with which Starsky had answered. “Good. I kind of like having you for a partner,” Hutch teased.

Starsky smiled back. The nervous and angry tension his whole body had been radiating since they began this conversation suddenly transformed into something entirely different. He walked over to Hutch and leaned down so that his face was only inches from Hutch’s. The intensity of his gaze made Hutch shiver

“You only kind of like having me?” Starsky’s voice dropped to a seductive whisper.

“I love having you,” Hutch answered in a husky whisper of his own. “Can’t imagine my life without you.”

Starsky responded to that statement with a warm smile.

“You heard enough of this story that we can move on to better things?” Starsky ran his fingers through Hutch’s hair playing with the blond curls.

God, that always feels so good. “Depends on what you had in mind?” Hutch let his hands ghost over Starsky’s ass and down his thighs. He didn’t know why, but feather light touches got to Starsky faster than anything else.

“I think I’ve got the same thing in mind that you do, Blondie.” Starsky leaned forward slightly to rest his forehead against Hutch’s maintaining eye contact.

I love it when his eyes go black like that, Hutch thought as he brought his hands up and around so that they traveled the front of Starsky’s thighs. He teased him a little by moving past his groin without touching it and up to his chest. He moved across Starsky’s chest, out and down his arms. Hutch tugged gently at his wrists until Starsky rested his hands on the arms of the chair. He pulled away just enough that he could angle his head to kiss Starsky. Butterfly soft to start and then with more passion.

Hutch nibbled lightly on Starsky’s lips requesting entrance. Once Starsky opened up, he plunged his tongue into that warm, wet cavity, hungrily tasting his lover. Starsky’s tongue darted into Hutch’s mouth and Hutch sucked gently. Starsky moaned softly.

Starsky shifted his weight back slightly. Hutch followed not wanting to lose contact. Another shift and with very little effort, they were suddenly on the floor. Taking advantage of this new position, Hutch stretched out over his lover enjoying the full body contact.

Reluctantly, he released Starsky’s mouth. He nuzzled Starsky’s neck, breathing deeply, taking in his scent. God, but he smells good. Hutch nibbled and licked his way as far down Starsky’s chest as the already open buttons would allow.

“You mind if I have my way with you?” Hutch asked. He ran a hand over Starsky’s crotch, grinning when his partner arched into that touch.

“No… I don’t mind. Be…my guest.” Starsky gasped.

With one hand caressing Starsky’s crotch and the other in his hair, Hutch undid the buttons on Starsky’s shirt one at a time with his teeth. Seeing the look on Starsky’s face as he did so made Hutch chuckle.

“Where did…you learn to do… that?”

“Misspent youth. I’ll tell you all about it some other time.” With that, Hutch leaned in for another kiss. He loved the way Starsky responded to his touch. Starsky was a very vocal lover. Hutch had come to think of his moans and sighs as a sort of music and Starsky the instrument he played.

With a controlled, yet powerful thrust of his hips, Starsky flipped them over. Hutch smiled slightly. The move hadn’t surprised him. It was far more often the case that Starsky had his way with Hutch, than the other way around. Hutch didn’t really object. Starsky liked to be in control and Hutch didn’t mind giving him free rein. They both got what they wanted in the end anyway.

Starsky deftly unbuttoned Hutch’s shirt. Hutch arched into his touch when Starsky began playing with his nipples. His warm, wet tongue laved one and then the other. Then he bit down ever so gently.

Hutch couldn’t help but hiss in pleasure, “Feels good… real good, David.”

Starsky’s smiled was decidedly wicked. “I know.”

Hutch sighed softly, enjoying the caress. He ran his fingers through Starsky’s hair, delighting in the feel of it. He loved having someone play with his hair and he knew Starsky liked it, too. He ran his hands along Starsky’s neck and shoulders, massaging gently as he went.

Starsky began kissing and nibbling his way down Hutch’s abdomen. In between kisses he murmured, “Can’t understand how… you can have… such a flat stomach… when you never… work out… anymore.”

“Clean living and eating right,” Hutch said, smiling at the sensation.

With practiced ease, Starsky undid Hutch’s belt. “Lift up,” he ordered, his hands ready to slide off Hutch’s jeans.

“Pushy, aren’t you?” Hutch asked with a smile, but obligingly raised his hips off the floor. Hutch toed out of his shoes when Starsky got his jeans and briefs down to about his knees letting him pull them all the way off. He propped himself up on one elbow and made a show of studying Starsky. His partner flushed slightly under his heated gaze.

“I think you’re overdressed.”

Starsky gave him another one of those wicked little smiles as he casually caressed one of Hutch’s thighs and then the other. “You think so?”

Hutch took a deep breath when Starsky’s hand encircled his penis. His breathing became ragged as Starsky began leisurely moving his hand. Hutch reached out to cup Starsky’s face. He couldn’t really explain it but being able to touch Starsky’s face always seemed so incredibly intimate.

With a soft sigh, he let his hand slide down Starsky’s neck to his chest. He couldn’t help but smile when Starsky’s eyes closed and he moaned. He let his hand drift further, coming to rest over Starsky’s crotch. He matched his featherlike up and down touch to Starsky’s stroke on his penis.

“Need more… harder… please… Hutch… please.” Starsky was almost sobbing, his breathing was as ragged as Hutch’s.

Hutch slowly undid Starsky’s fly delighting in what he knew was an exquisite sort of agony. Starsky’s hips bucked when Hutch finally encircled his shaft and began to match him stroke for stroke.

On each up-stroke Hutch used his thumb to rub across the tip of Starsky’s penis, circling the head. He used the pad of his thumb to gently tease the glands. Starsky moaned, biting his lower lip.

“You like that?”

“Yes. God, yes.” Starsky let his head fall back, exposing his throat.

Watching his pulse point, Hutch couldn’t resist nibbling that exposed vulnerable area. As always, he was careful not to leave a mark where it might show.

Hutch could feel his own orgasm building as faint tremors began running up and down his body.

Starsky could feel it, too, and increased the tempo of his movements.

“Feels so… good. God… David. So close… so close.”

When Starsky leaned in to suckle one nipple while his free hand tweaked the other, Hutch came hard. He was only vaguely aware of Starsky’s own release as he came all over Hutch’s hand.

They both rested, waiting for their breathing to return to normal.

Hutch had no idea how long they lay like that enjoying the afterglow. He turned his head to place a tender kiss on Starsky’s temple. He nuzzled Starsky’s hair, liking the feel of it against his cheek. “You okay, Babe?”

“Okay? I’m more than okay.”

Hutch smiled at that. Yeah, me, too, Babe. Me, too. Not without regret, Hutch rolled away and stretched.

“You look like a cat when you do that.” Starsky grinned. He reached out and ran one hand down Hutch’s chest. “One that got cream for dinner.”

At the mention of dinner, Hutch’s stomach growled loudly.

Starsky laughed. “Another country heard from.”

“You want to get something to eat?”

“I don’t know about you, but I’m not going out in public looking like this.”

Hutch let his eyes drift over Starsky from head to toe, enjoying the view. “Why not? You look great just the way you are.” Hutch found it amusing and faintly puzzling when Starsky blushed and ducked his head. How can a man look as good as he does and be embarrassed to be told that?

“How about room service?” Starsky offered.

Hutch nodded. “Sounds like a plan.”

In one graceful move, he rose to his feet. Not bothering to dress and still wearing just his unbuttoned shirt, Hutch made his way over to the nightstand. Thought I saw a menu in here when we checked in.

Hutch didn’t give his state of undress a thought until he bent over to search the drawer of the nightstand. He heard a faint hitch in Starsky’s breathing that sounded like a soft moan. Hutch felt a wicked little grin spread across his face as the light dawned and he stretched a little more. Teasing him can be so much fun.

Straightening up, menu in hand, Hutch casually turned to rest his butt against the nightstand giving Starsky a full-frontal view. He leaned back slightly and made a point of looking like he was totally unaware of the effect he was having.

He studied the menu while he let one hand lazily rub his chest. Sighing softly, he then ran the same hand through his hair.

Hutch glanced up from the menu when he heard another faint moan. Starsky was staring at him, his expression one of hungry desire, his blue eyes focused totally on Hutch. Crossing his legs as the ankles and leaning back even further, Hutch asked nonchalantly, “What are you in the mood for?”

“Don’t think what I’m in the mood for is on that menu.”

Hutch frowned down at the menu to keep from smiling. “You sure? They’ve got a pretty wide selection.” It was so difficult to make his voice sound normal.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could just make out Starsky rising to his feet. With a great deal of effort, Hutch managed to keep his own breathing even. Damn, he’s beautiful. Like some kind of Greek statue come to life.

“They’ve got health food.” Hutch pretended to study the menu and tried not to notice Starsky stalking toward him like some large cat on the hunt. He straightened up, stretching provocatively as he did so. “They don’t have burgers or barbeque though, sorry. I doubt it’d be as good as Huggy’s anyway. Still there should be something here to suit both of us. You wanna look?” Hutch asked in a husky whisper. He turned toward Starsky and offered him the menu.

With a soft growl, Starsky slapped it away and lunged at Hutch, knocking him down on the bed. Starsky followed Hutch on to the mattress, using his weight to hold him down. He captured his mouth in a kiss that was almost painful in its intensity. When Starsky finally came up for air, Hutch chuckled softly. “I guess dinner will have to wait a while.”

“You did say they offered room service until midnight.” Starsky nuzzled his neck, sucking and biting delicately.

Hutch tilted his head back to give Starsky better access. “I seem… to remember… saying something along… those lines.”

“Good. We’ll eat later.”

It was over an hour later before they actually got around to ordering room service.

 

Seminar Day Two

Starsky shifted again trying to get comfortable. The seminar had resumed in the same room it had been held in yesterday afternoon. The room was still too hot, the seats were still uncomfortable, and the speakers were even more boring.

God, I must have done something really awful in a past life to warrant this kind of agony.

Starsky glanced over at his partner. Hutch hadn’t moved since the current speaker began talking. It was a mystery to Starsky how he could sit so still. Unlike Starsky, Hutch never seemed to feel the need to just simply move solely for the sake of moving.

Because of his relaxed attitude and laid-back approach to things, Starsky assumed that Hutch was lazy when they had first met. It didn’t take long to realize that wasn’t the case at all. It was rare that his partner simply sat still doing nothing. Hutch’s considerable level of physical activity was easily overlooked because whenever he was in motion, it was always directed, purposeful. He almost never made restless or aimless movements. Starsky had come to envy Hutch’s graceful economy of motion.

Starsky watched as Hutch wrote something in the notebook he’d brought with him. He loved to watch his hands. Those beautiful, long-fingered, elegant hands that could be so gentle, so clever, that could make him feel so very good. He took a deep breath and forced himself to look elsewhere and think about something else.

Glancing around the room he took in the rest of the audience. He found himself looking for Special Agent Corbin and couldn’t help feeling relieved when he didn’t find him. If he were really lucky, Corbin would not approach him again.

He didn’t want to deal with another confrontation. Especially when he hadn’t exactly told Hutch everything. He’d seen the rage Hutch had only just managed to control when he’d mentioned Corbin’s extreme attempts to recruit him for the FBI that could have endangered his life. The white knuckled grip on the chair, the way his body had gone completely still, and his carefully neutral expression were as blatant a warning as an air raid siren.

Hutch’s anger on his behalf had on one hand been reassuring, but on the other hand it had been frightening. While easily angered, it was rare for him to actually lose control. Oh, he ranted a lot, but Starsky had learned quickly that Hutch wasn’t really dangerous until he got quiet. Last night he’d been very quiet and Starsky suspected he’d been as close to losing control as he’d ever been.

He didn’t want to think about what Hutch’s reaction might be if he found out that Corbin hadn’t just wanted him as a recruit for the Bureau but had made numerous sexual advances as well. Some were subtle, just glances and insinuating comments. And some not so subtle, like Corbin trying to corner him against a wall and feel him up.

Rejected on all fronts, Corbin attempted to blackmail him directly by threatening to let his coworkers know he wasn’t one hundred percent heterosexual. I can still hear that son-of-a-bitch telling me that if I thought my backup had been slow before, they would be non-existent once they knew I was bisexual. Cops didn’t like having one of their own playing for both teams. Switch-hitting is a major no-no.

The sad part was that Corbin was right. It was then that he’d resorted to wearing a wire. He simply couldn’t win if he had to fight both the cops and the mob.

Starsky reached up to finger the pendant Hutch had given him. Lately, he found himself playing with it like some kind of worry stone. It was comforting. His fingers traced out the design he’d come to know by heart. He shifted again trying to get his mind back on whatever the speaker was saying. Hutch glanced over at him, a faint smile playing about his lips.

“You got ants in your pants, Starsky?” His soft voice was laced with humor.

“Almost wish I did. Anything to make this more interesting,” Starsky whispered back.

Hutch chuckled softly. A moment later he started a jaw-popping yawn that had Starsky yawning right along with him. Never understood why yawning is contagious. Just one of life’s little mysteries, I suppose.

Hutch rolled his shoulders, and slouched further into his chair. He handed his notebook and pencil to Starsky. “Your turn. I stayed awake yesterday.”

Starsky looked at the notebook and took it with a sigh. He didn’t like it, but it was only fair that Hutch get to nap today since he’d slept through most of yesterday afternoon. Starsky studied the page in front of him hoping that something Hutch had written there would give him an idea of what the hell the guy on stage had been talking about for the past half hour.

Sure enough, written across the top of the page was the title: Determining Jurisdictional Priority and Settling Disputes. One good thing about Hutch’s handwriting was that it was always legible. It never ceased to amaze him that he had textbook perfect penmanship.

Starsky didn’t really know why but Hutch favored unlined paper to write on. Looking at his handwriting you would never know the lines were missing. The elegant, cursive letters were so neat and crisp, they reminded him of when he’d seen a handwritten copy of the U.S. Constitution as a child. He shook his head ruefully; his own handwriting was nowhere near as neat.

Hutch had commented once that when he’d first seen Starsky’s handwriting, he was sure Starsky had been writing in some sort of hieroglyphic code. Hutch had, out of necessity, learned to decipher it but for the most part, they both found it easier if Hutch was the one who took notes or wrote down information at crime scenes.

Starsky settled in to pay attention. After fifteen minutes listening to the speaker, he gave it up as a lost cause. How can someone talk this long and not say anything? Starsky snorted in disgust. There ought to be a law. Starsky couldn’t understand how his lover had managed to pay attention as long as he had. He looked over at the quietly sleeping man next to him.

It wasn’t often that there was time when he could simply study him. Always the early riser, Hutch was usually up and gone before Starsky awoke. During most days, well, the job kept them both busy and focused on things besides each other over 95 percent of the time. And after work, there were other distractions. Starsky grinned thinking about those very pleasant distractions. But that didn’t leave a lot of time to really look at Hutch when he was relaxed, or totally at ease. Starsky decided this was an opportunity he shouldn’t waste.

He let his eyes run the length of his partner’s long, lean body. Even as cramped as their current seating arrangements were, Hutch somehow managed to position himself so that he didn’t look uncomfortable. They were roughly the same height, but Starsky felt like there was no way in hell that he would ever get comfortable, much less look like he was.

Starsky studied Hutch’s profile. He took in the sharply defined cheekbones and clean line of his jaw. Spending the last few years in the harsh southern California sun had given his lover faint lines around his eyes. Not really so much a sign of age, but more as an indicator of the amount of time he’d spent squinting in the bright glare.

That same sun should have left his skin feeling rough and weathered, but it hadn’t. Instead, it was surprisingly smooth and soft, like satin. With a great deal of effort, Starsky managed to keep himself from reaching out to touch, to caress.

Hutch’s expression was peaceful. There were no traces of the usual tension that he seemed to constantly wear when he was awake. Asleep, he looked younger. Starsky felt like he was getting a glimpse of the child Hutch used to be. Since Hutch had grown his hair longer, it was curly. He looks like an angel. Starsky knew exactly what kind of reaction he’d get if he ever said as much. Just have to keep that thought to myself.

With regret, Starsky turned his attention away from his partner and back to the business at hand. He tried, really tried, to focus once more on the speaker. Looking over what notes Hutch had taken, the man wasn’t really saying anything that Hutch hadn’t already written down.

Thinking now was as good a time as any to catch up on what he might have missed yesterday, Starsky flipped back through the notebook intent on seeing if anything really important had been said. Hutch had filled up several pages with notes, and in between those were several pages of… Starsky stopped and stared. The pictures he saw could only be described as highly detailed, finely drawn sketches. I didn’t know he could draw.

Curious, Starsky turned to the beginning of the notebook, and began to carefully flip through the pages. Pages one and two were notes from the first speakers yesterday morning. He remembered both of those speakers as being interesting and entertaining. Page three was a brief sketch of the room they had been in. The layout and position of major features like the stage, chairs, and doorways, were all there, but nothing else. It reminded Starsky of the crime scene drawings he’d seen in some of the files at the precinct. Until now it hadn’t occurred to him that Hutch might have drawn some of those.

Pages four and five had more notes. Pages six and seven were more sketches. This time it was of the speaker they had heard right before lunch. Starsky remembered her, not so much for her presentation, but for her looks. A real beauty that one. The woman had reminded him of Hutch’s friend, Jenny. She had moved with the same confidence and poise. The first sketch had evidently been intended to be a full body, but was unfinished. Hutch had clearly abandoned it in favor of focusing on her face. His sketch managed to capture the humor and grace the woman had so clearly displayed during her presentation. It was so well done that Starsky almost expected her to wink at him any minute. Blondie has real talent.

Pages eight and nine were more notes. Although, there was scrollwork down the margins making it seem as though the notes were hung in some ornate frame. Starsky could make out what appeared to be some sort of Celtic design on one and something that looked decidedly like interlocking roses on the other.

Another page of notes, and then… Starsky breathed in deeply. The next sketch was of him or rather his profile. Apparently, he wasn’t the only one who liked to spend time observing his sleeping partner. Starsky wasn’t sure how, but the attention to detail in the picture positively radiated love and affection. He had absolutely no doubt as to how Hutch felt about him just by looking at it. Wow!

Starsky flipped through several more pages, but those contained only notes or more scrollwork. Then there was a series of blank pages. Starsky was ready to flip back to the beginning when he decided to simply thumb through the rest of the notebook. He soon realized that Hutch must have had this particular notebook for some time because nearly half way through the book the sketches began again.

Some of them were only half done. Some were drawn with what looked like charcoal or with colored pencil. Almost all of them were an outdoor setting of some kind or another but there were also sketches of people. Starsky easily recognized those of their coworkers. Some of the others he couldn’t place at all. The level of skill that was evident in each drawing, even those that were unfinished, was stunning.

Starsky felt his eyes widen when the last few sketches were clearly the design on his pendant. There were several efforts that were obviously attempts at capturing the lighthouse from different angles. There were others that showed various inscriptions. The final oval shape was evidently not the only one he’d considered since there were several sketches done with the design in a circle, a rectangle, even a triangle.

Hutch said he sort of designed it, but I thought he meant he’d suggested what he wanted to his friend, I never thought this was what he meant.

Starsky looked over at his sleeping lover. Definitely going to have to ask about this little skill someday.

Hearing sounds of the audience shifting, Starsky looked toward the stage and noted that the speaker was finally finishing. He quickly flipped the notebook back to the page it had been on when Hutch handed it to him. In what he knew would be an illegible scrawl, Starsky quickly caught the final points as the speaker went over them.

He nudged Hutch with his elbow. One eye opened to look at him then then he quickly sat up. If Starsky didn’t know him so well, he’d never be able to tell Hutch had been sleeping. Somehow Hutch always seemed able to open his eyes and look immediately alert. Starsky knew first hand that he only looked wide-awake. It was a nice bluff that Starsky wished on more than one occasion that he could do.

“You awake, Blondie?” Starsky whispered.

Hutch just looked at him for a moment. He blinked once and then again. Starsky would swear it was almost like seeing the lights come on. “Yeah. I’m awake.” Hutch straightened in his seat. “This one about over?”

“Seems that way.”

“Good. You think they’ll give us a break soon? I could do with a cup of coffee.”

Starsky glanced down at the agenda they’d been given. “According to this, they’re supposed to give us a few minutes after this one.”

“Thank God.”

As soon as the speaker left the stage, one of the organizers announced they would be allowed a fifteen-minute break. She also mentioned that coffee was still available in the lobby. Starsky watched as several people looked decidedly grateful after hearing that. Guess Hutch isn’t the only one in need of a pick-me-up.

Hutch got up and stretched. Starsky couldn’t help wincing when several vertebrae announced their presence. He absolutely hated hearing those little pops and crackles coming from his lover. Shaking his head, Starsky stood as well. Together they exited the room.

“Hutch, get me a cup of coffee, will ya? I need to use the men’s room.”

“Sure.”

Starsky headed down the hall while his partner made a beeline for the lobby. He couldn’t help thinking it was funny that the two of them should work together so well when they had next to nothing in common, not even the way they took their coffee. Starsky usually had his black and strong, while Hutch liked his light and sweet.

The men’s room was surprisingly empty so it didn’t take long to take care of business. Starsky was washing his hands when he heard the door open. He looked up in the mirror to the two men in dark suits and glasses on either side of the doorway with Special Agent Corbin between them. Damn. Knew that brain dead bastard wouldn’t have enough sense to just let it go.

Starsky straightened; he took his time drying his hands, before turning to face the three men. He ignored the once over that Corbin gave him. If he focused on how dirty that man’s gaze made him feel he’d never be able to deal with this.

“You’re looking good, David.”

Starsky shivered slightly, feeling his skin crawl at the tone Corbin used. “What do you want, Corbin?” Starsky was proud of the fact that he didn’t snarl but kept his voice calm and level.

“Same thing I’ve always wanted. You.” Corbin paused to let the innuendo leave its mark. “I want you to work for me.”

“I thought I made it pretty clear yesterday that I wasn’t interested.” Starsky could just make out bruises, showing above Corbin’s collar from yesterday’s little talk.

“I thought you might need time to reconsider.”

Starsky shook his head. “There will never be enough time for that.”

Corbin smiled slightly. “You’re sure?”

“Very. I have a job.”

“Maybe a change of scenery. I could arrange for you to get back to Brooklyn.”

Starsky snorted. “Uh-huh. Sure you could.”

“I’m serious. All it would take is a phone call.”

“Going back to Brooklyn isn’t really what I had in mind.”

“Pity, I’m transferring up there.” Corbin sounded genuinely regretful.

Starsky watched him and his two muscle men carefully. God. If I didn’t know they were feds, they could have been working for Uncle Al. Definitely have the same look.

“Well, then perhaps a little persuasion is in order.”

Starsky sneered and nodded toward the two larger men flanking Corbin. “Figured out you needed help to do that, I see.”

Corbin smiled slightly and nodded his head conceding Starsky’s point. “Let’s just say our little chat yesterday proved to be very educational.”

With that the two men flanking, Corbin moved forward. Starsky felt his body dropping automatically into a defensive crouch. His weight shift to the balls of his feet and his hands came up ready to attack or defend.

He dodged the first man’s attempt to grab him with a simple twist. He reached out with his right hand and grabbed the man’s extended arm at the wrist using the man’s own momentum to pull him forward. Starsky’s left hand struck out, catching the man in the throat. The man dropped to his knees, gagging, trying desperately to get his throat to work well enough for him to breathe.

The second man approached with more caution, before suddenly lunging at Starsky, forcing him back against the wall. He pinned Starsky there while rabbit punching him in the gut several times. Starsky tried to block his punches. When that didn’t work, he simply wrapped his arms around the other man and bracing himself against the wall, shoved his assailant back across the room to the opposite wall. Starsky snapped his head back, then forward, so that his forehead impacted with his attacker’s nose. Starsky felt the nose break and the corresponding spray of blood. When the man’s hands came up to protect his nose, Starsky dropped him with a well-placed kick to the groin, followed by a sharp blow to the temple.

Starsky spun to face Corbin in time to see him raise a gun. He watched Corbin warily, waiting to see what his next move would be. Starsky wasn’t wearing his gun. He hadn’t expected to need it in a hotel full of cops. Let that be a lesson to you, Starsky. Never go anywhere without your gun.

“An impressive display of resistance, but it really was a futile effort at best. Now why don’t you just stand still and let my friends here recover. Then we can continue this discussion.”

“I should have strangled you yesterday and been done with it.”

Corbin smirked. “Hindsight is such a bitch.” He sighed quietly, looking Starsky over. “Believe me, I know. I’ve spent the better part of twenty years trying to bring down Al Greenberg. You were my best chance to do it when you joined the academy. Not a day goes by that I don’t regret losing that opportunity.”

Corbin leered at Starsky. “More than one opportunity missed then.” He sighed and, then chuckled. “My best shot at nailing a mob boss and getting a really good lay… well, you really can’t blame me for not wanting to give that up.”

Starsky just shook his head, not wanting to debate that particular point. He looked over Corbin’s shoulder and noticed the door opening. Corbin saw Starsky looking past him. Starsky would bet money he heard the door open, but Corbin didn’t turn to look or take his eyes off Starsky.

Corbin said calmly, “Carson, I could have sworn I told you to guard the door until I said otherwise.”

Starsky couldn’t help but grin when Hutch stepped up behind Corbin and placed a gun to the back of his head. “Now you lower that gun, otherwise I’m gonna have to redecorate the walls with what little brains you have.” Hutch’s voice was cold and hard. It was a tone that promised violence and left no doubt that he really would kill him.

Corbin cursed. He slowly lowered his gun, glaring daggers at Starsky.

“Now drop it.” When Corbin didn’t let go of the gun, Hutch tapped lightly on the back of his head with the muzzle of his gun to emphasize just who was in control. “Drop. lt.”

Finally, Corbin let the gun fall to the floor and Hutch kicked it away. “Good.” Hutch looked over at Starsky, his expression concerned and eyes dark with worry. “You okay, partner?”

“I’m fine.”

“You sure? You’ve got blood on your shirt.”

Starsky looked down. Damn. Forgot about that. “None of it’s mine.” Starsky pointed with his chin to the agent on the floor still nursing his broken nose. “It’s all his.”

Starsky went to each agent and frisked them. He took their guns, identification, and cuffs. Glad Frick and Frack were too stupid to think of drawing their guns first.

Starsky decided to keep their guns and put the cuffs to good use. He pulled their arms behind them, cuffed them, and then shoved both of them together. Starsky turned to look at Hutch. His partner stepped back and pushed Corbin over to join the other two.

Keeping his weapon trained on all three agents, Hutch flashed a quick grin at Starsky. “You know, Starsky, they aren’t gonna let us have recess if they find out you don’t play well with others.”

Starsky grinned back at him. “Yeah, well, I run with scissors, too, but we’ll just keep that our little secret.”

Hutch was suddenly all business. “What do you want to do with them?”

“I suppose just shooting them is out of the question.”

Hutch shrugged, his expression neutral. “Not entirely.”

Starsky stared at him trying to decide if he was serious. Hutch’s face gave no indication that he wasn’t seriously considering shooting three federal agents as a viable solution. Starsky had to look close to see the glint of humor in Hutch’s eyes. It was faint, but it was there.

“What about the paperwork?” Starsky finally asked.

“Oh, yeah. There is that.” Hutch paused, cocked his head to one side studying the three agents. “You think we could write this off as a gang shooting?”

“Doubtful. This is Sacramento, not Bay City. Jurisdictional disputes and all that.”

It was all Starsky could do not to laugh at the expressions his recent assailants were wearing. The whole conversation was a little bit surreal and if he didn’t know his partner so well, he wouldn’t know he wasn’t serious. At least I don’t think he’s serious.

Hutch nodded. “You got a point.”

Corbin sputtered in outrage. “You can’t be serious.”

Hutch raised an eyebrow. Starsky noticed that hard, deadly tone of voice was back in spades when he spoke to Corbin. “Really? Why not? You harass my partner. You even go so far as to assault him not once, but twice in as many days. We frown on things like that here in California.”

“But you don’t even like him! All the reports I’ve got indicate the two of you spend most of your time arguing. You’re at each other’s throats more often than not.”

“Now where in the hell would you get a stupid idea like that? If that’s what they mean by intelligence reports, it’s no wonder we’re in the political mess we’re in. Starsky and I are the best of friends. You know what, Corbin, the more you talk, the deeper I want to dig your hole.” Hutch’s posture radiated menace when he stepped forward to stand in front of Corbin.

“Just how long have you had someone spying on Starsky and me? Never mind. It doesn’t really matter, ’cause you aren’t gonna be doing it anymore.”

“Hutch?” Starsky asked softly. There was conviction in that statement, a sort of finality that was in no way lighthearted. Starsky wasn’t entirely sure what it was his lover had in mind. He wasn’t convinced that outright murder would solve anything, but Starsky braced himself, prepared to back whatever play Hutch might have in mind.

“Don’t worry, Starsky. I have an idea.”

“I’m all ears, Blondie.”

Hutch tucked the gun he held into his belt. “Wait here a minute. There’s someone I need to talk to.” With that he was out the door. It was only a few minutes later that he returned with the largest black man that Starsky had ever seen. This guy would make Rosey Greer look small.

Between them, they were dragging another federal agent. Starsky guessed that the unconscious man had to be Carson.

“Starsky, this is Simon Washington. Simon’s an agent with the State Bureau of Investigation here in Sacramento. He’s also a friend of mine from way back. We used to play football together.”

I don’t doubt that for a minute. This guy is big enough to be the entire front line. Still holding both guns he’d taken from Frick and Frack, Starsky just nodded his head politely to the giant.

“Simon, this is my partner and friend, David Starsky.”

Simon returned Starsky’s nod by way of acknowledgement. He looked over the four agents and raised an eyebrow. He then looked pointedly at Hutch. “These the fellas you said were giving your partner trouble?”

Starsky was surprised when his voice was a light tenor instead of the bass he’d been expecting from such a large man.

“Yes. They’re the ones. I just need you to put them in on ice for… well, forty-eight hours should do it.”

“You’re having me and my men arrested?” Corbin demanded.

Hutch grinned wolfishly at him. “Not exactly. We won’t be reading you your rights or filing any charges. No messy paperwork that way.”

The agent Starsky had punched in the throat surprised them all when he asked hoarsely, ‘What do you plan to do with us after two days?”

Starsky glanced at Hutch. Good question. I would kind of like an answer to that myself.

“That depends on Sloan.”

Corbin’s eyes narrowed. “Sloan?”

“Charles Sloan. You might know him. He’s the Assistant Director for the FBI’s Western region.”

Corbin swallowed hard. “You… You know him?”

“He owes me a favor.” Hutch didn’t elaborate any more than that. “Simon, you got a spare cell you can dump them in?”

Simon eyed the four agents again. “I think that can be arranged. Can even see about making sure they have some real nice playmates, if you catch my meaning.”

Hutch laughed. “Now that would be downright neighborly of you, Simon.”

“You already call Sloan?”

“Plan to just as soon as we’re done here.” Hutch pulled the gun from his belt and handed it to Simon “This belongs to Carson.” Hutch nodded toward the agent they’d dragged in who was beginning to show signs of coming around. “Starsky’s got the other guys’ weapons.” Hutch walked over to where he’d kicked Corbin’s gun and picked it up.

“This one belongs to the mouthy one in the middle, Agent Corbin.”

Simon nodded. “On your way out, you can just hand those off to the agents that are waiting outside. Don’t worry, we’ll take it from here.”

“Thanks. I owe you one.”

The big man shook his head. “Way I figure it, we ain’t even close to you owing me. By my count, I still owe you. Take care of yourself, Hutch. You, too, Starsky.”

Starsky headed out the door followed by his partner. He handed the guns off to one of the two men waiting outside. Hutch nodded to each man and said thanks before following Starsky down the hall. Starsky headed for the elevators. Best to get out of this bloody shirt before anyone else notices anything.

Fortunately, Starsky and Hutch were the only ones in sight. Shouldn’t really be surprised by that. How many hotels do a lot of business at three in the afternoon?

Once in the elevator, Starsky wrapped Hutch in a tight hug. He’d wanted to do that since Hutch had stepped through the rest room door. Hutch returned the embrace with equal force. Both needed reassurance that the other was okay. With some reluctance, Starsky pulled away and asked, “How’d you know to come look for me?”

“I was going for coffee when I noticed this bunch of suits all headed down the hall. Men don’t normally go to the john in groups. Took a closer look and saw Corbin. Figured he might have some hard feelings about yesterday. So I followed. Had to take care of Carson or I’d have been there sooner.”

Starsky caressed Hutch’s cheek. “You got there in time and that’s all that matters.”

“Almost didn’t.”

Starsky could easily make out the lingering fear in Hutch’s eyes. He pulled his partner into another hug, only letting go when the ping of the elevator interrupted. Once inside the room, Hutch stepped away from Starsky. “Why don’t you change shirts, while I make that call?”

Starsky shook his head. “Not until you tell me just how you came to have an Assistant Director of the FBI in your pocket?”

“It isn’t anything sordid, Starsky. Nothing illegal either. Sloan has a son… Rodney. We played ball together in college.”

Starsky laughed. “I’m beginning to think everyone you know plays football.”

Hutch smiled at him, and shrugged one shoulder. ‘What can I say? You meet a lot of people that way.”

“Whatever.” Starsky made a ‘go on’ motion with his hands. “The rest of the story, if you would be so kind.”

“Okay. It was like this… ‘Cause I was quarterback for the team, I sort of ended up looking out for most of the guys. Guess they were just used to following my lead on things. So, I always made sure that none of them got into too bad of a spot or I found a way to get them out if they did. And Rodney… well, he was the kind of guy who just seemed to naturally get into all kinds of trouble. Not a bad kid, just not the sharpest knife in the drawer.”

Starsky wasn’t surprised to hear that Hutch was looking out for his team. The man was loyal to his friends. The kind who always helped out when one was in need, no matter what. Which explains why when Tommy was in trouble, he came to you, even though you hadn’t seen each other in years.

“Rodney was the worst for getting into things that were over his head. If it was too much for me to fix, then I made sure his old man knew enough about what was going on so he could bail him out. More often than not, I’d end up calling his father and I got to know Charles Sloan fairly well as a result.”

“Is that the favor he owes you?”

“Not exactly. I don’t really think any of that would be enough to get him to turn on one of his own. Corbin is FBI after all, and they got their own solidarity, just like any other group of cops.”

“So what does he owe you that’s big enough to do the job?” Come on, Blondie. Out with it.

Hutch sighed. He walked over to the windows, and stared down at the busy street below. “The middle of our senior year, Rodney was diagnosed with leukemia. The doctors knew for a while that something was wrong, but couldn’t seem to come up with the right diagnosis. When they finally nailed down what was wrong… it was pretty far gone. The family got pretty desperate looking for a bone marrow donor. I managed to get most of the school to go be tested. Found two matches for Rodney that way. One of them was me.”

“So this guy owes his son’s life to you?” That’s one hell of a favor, Blondie.

“Basically… yeah. I never thought I’d ever try to call it in. It doesn’t seem right to me, asking a favor knowing the man can’t really say no.” Hutch sighed again. “I didn’t do it because I wanted some kind of payback later.”

“I never thought you did,” Starsky said softly, and moved to stand behind his lover, wrapping his arms around him loosely. He couldn’t help but think that his lover would never make it in the mob. Just calling in a favor bothers the man. He’d never make it having to break someone’s knees or ordering a hit. But then neither would I.

“If it really bothers you… you don’t have to make the call,” Starsky offered, not wanting Hutch to do anything that went against his principles.

Hutch reached up to squeeze one of Starsky’s hands. “It doesn’t bother me half as much as the thought of Corbin trying again. You are way more important than my pride. And the next time I might not be around to help.”

Hutch shuddered and Starsky held him tighter. He wasn’t looking forward to another run in with Corbin either. It bothered him more than he cared to think about that Corbin had been keeping tabs on both of them. Damn that man.

Hutch leaned further into Starsky’s embrace. “Short of burying Corbin in a shallow grave out in the desert somewhere, Sloan is probably our best shot at getting him to back off. Besides, it isn’t like he wouldn’t be helping himself out at the same time. Corbin is a loose cannon. That man needs to be put down before the FBI gets another black eye to its reputation.”

Starsky smiled. “If you say so. Personally, I think the Bureau could do with more than just a black eye.”

Hutch chuckled and straightened up, pulling out of Starsky’s hold. “You better go get cleaned up. And I have a call to make.”

“What are you going to tell him?”

Hutch shrugged. “That I need his help in dealing with a problem. And that problem is Special Agent Corbin. The man has been harassing my partner. Has even gone so far as to commit assault and battery, possibly attempting to kidnap. And he has been keeping tabs on both of us, most likely since we were first partnered. The man simply refuses to accept that you have no interest in joining the FBI or assisting them in any capacity. I think Corbin is obsessed and should be considered dangerous. I also plan to let him know that the California Bureau of Investigation, pending his decision, is currently holding Corbin and his buddies. If he can’t or won’t handle it….” Hutch’s eyes met Starsky’s. “Then I guess we might have to dig that shallow grave after all.”

Starsky nodded, conveying both his understanding and willingness to follow Hutch’s lead. He headed toward the bathroom giving his partner some privacy. Stripping out of his bloody shirt, Starsky grimaced. Damn. I liked this shirt. He shoved it in the sink and soaked it in cold water, hoping it wouldn’t stain.

Looking at himself in the mirror, Starsky decided that just changing his clothes wouldn’t be enough to erase the feel of Corbin’s eyes. The hell with it! I didn’t plan on going back for the rest of today’s seminar anyway. Starsky turned on the shower and stripped. He removed the pendant last, making sure to place it where it would be within easy reach once he was finished.

Stepping into the shower, he let the hot spray of water wash away the dirty feeling. It eased leftover tension from the brief confrontation as well. The few punches Frick had managed to land were starting to bruise. Not badly, just enough to remind Starsky that he’d been hit. Starsky wasn’t sure how long he’d just been standing under the spray when Hutch joined him.

Hutch reached for the soap and began to slowly lather Starsky’s back. He gently massaged Starsky’s neck and shoulders making him moan softly.

“Have I ever told you how much I love your hands?”

“Once or twice.”

Starsky could hear the smile in Hutch’s reply. “So what did Sloan have to say?”

“Said he’ll take care of it.” Hutch continued to work his way down Starsky’s back. Starsky moaned again and tried to focus.

“What does that mean exactly?”

“Means he’s going to send someone to pick up Corbin and his buddies. Corbin will be permanently relocated to DC, where he will be closely supervised and spend the rest of his career working on the FBI budget in the basement of the Hoover building. Any and all authority he might have been able to claim has been rescinded. Meaning… he has also just gotten a major cut in pay.”

Starsky chuckled at that. Good. Serves the bastard right. His chuckle became a sigh as Hutch worked his way back up to his shoulders.

“He will also have to undergo psychological evaluation as a condition of his continued employment with the Bureau. His men will be scattered around the country. Seems Sloan knows of some openings that need filling. Their new supervisors will be told that they are problem children that bear watching. Anyone Corbin has been in contact with regarding one David Starsky or Kenneth Hutchinson will be notified that we are no longer of interest to the FBI. Any agent making contact or attempting to gather information will be risking their job by doing so.”

“Sounds very thorough. Think it will work?” Starsky leaned forward, bracing his arms against the wall, to give Hutch better access to his lower back.

“It better. I’m fresh out of ideas if it doesn’t.” Hutch lathered his hands again and wrapped his arms around Starsky, letting them wonder over his chest in a gentle caress.

“Were you seriously considering killing him?” Starsky asked. He really wanted to know if his partner had honestly thought murder was an option. Not that I’d think any less of him for thinking about it. Hell, I’ve thought about it more than once.

Hutch’s hands went still. “I don’t know.” He sighed and leaned into Starsky. “When he had a gun pointed at you… yeah, I’d have killed him. When he was talking about you like you were just another piece of ass he wanted to fuck… yeah, I thought about doing serious bodily harm.”

Starsky went perfectly still, surprised as much by what Hutch said as how he said it. His partner’s language wasn’t usually quite so coarse. “Didn’t think you heard that,” Starsky said softly once he could speak.

“I heard.” There was a brief pause as though Hutch was thinking through what he wanted to say. “Why didn’t you tell me last night that he was interested in you for more than just your family?”

Starsky sighed. “Saw how pissed you got just hearing what I did say.” Starsky shrugged one shoulder. “Wasn’t sure how you’d take the rest.”

“Ah. You thought I’d get all jealous and stupid.”

“Something like that,” Starsky reluctantly admitted.

Hutch snorted. “If I got jealous every time someone looked at you, I’d never have time to do anything else. Hell, Starsky you are an incredibly handsome man. I’ve seen you turn heads everywhere you go. It doesn’t bother me that people look. Or that some of them would like to do more than just look.”

Hutch pulled away and Starsky turned to face him. “I’d be lying if I said it wouldn’t bother me if you wanted to fool around with some of them. But… that would be your choice.”

Starsky opened his mouth to protest that he wasn’t interested in anyone else, but Hutch simply placed his fingers over Starsky’s lips. “I’m not saying that you would or even that you want to. Just that it would be your choice.”

Hutch sighed softly. Starsky could easily read the frustration in his expression. His lover occasionally had trouble expressing himself in words, so Starsky tried to be patient and really listen, not just to the words, but also for what Hutch was trying to say.

“The way Corbin was talking… and acting, I sort of got the impression he didn’t want to give you a choice in the matter. That isn’t right. Everyone has the right to choose. Taking away that choice is like… well, it’s like making that person less than you. That isn’t the way to treat someone you care about.”

Starsky flashed back on all the times Hutch had deliberately let him make decisions about their relationship. He had always thought it was just Hutch’s way of letting him have control. And in a way it was, but it was so much more than that. It was also his way of letting Starsky know he wasn’t being taken for granted, that he always had a say; that his wants, likes, and dislikes mattered. Hutch was trying to ensure their relationship remained as one of equals, that they were partners and friends as well as lovers. How in the hell did I miss that?

Starsky kissed Hutch. “Have I told you I love you?”

Hutch smiled warmly. “Not today.”

Starsky leaned into Hutch, resting his forehead against his lover’s. “I love you,” he said clearly.

“And I love you.”

Hutch leaned in to whisper in Starsky’s ear. “Can we move on to better things?”

Starsky smiled, remembering saying those same words just yesterday. “Depends on what you’ve got in mind?”

Hutch’s hands slid lower to tease Starsky’s half-hard cock, and then around to cup his ass. “Oh, I think, probably the same thing you’ve got in mind.”

Starsky leaned in, hungry for a long passionate kiss. His hands seemed to begin wandering over his partner’s body by their own volition. He loved being able to touch Hutch everywhere, especially when there was a time when he thought he’d never be able to. Stupid to have wasted so much time. Should have just jumped his bones the day I met him.

Hutch gave a soft cry of protest when Starsky broke the kiss. Starsky found himself studying Hutch’s eyes. His pupils were so large that his beautiful blue eyes were almost black. Starsky found himself wondering if his own eyes looked the same. If they do, then I understand what Hutch means when he says he likes mine best when they’re black.

Starsky dipped his head to nuzzle the spot on Hutch’s neck that was guaranteed to make him purr. He took charge of his wandering hands and used them to gently caress Hutch’s nipples. His efforts were rewarded with series of barely audible moans and faint sighs.

Hutch’s hands caressed Starsky’s back before dipping lower to lightly knead his ass. Starsky was always mystified by how that touch could be arousing and relaxing at the same time. He found himself thrusting his hips slowly in time with the rhythm set by Hutch’s hands. He loved this languid sort of feeling, knowing it wouldn’t last. All too soon it would give way to passionate urgency.

Hutch angled his head so he could suck on the point where Starsky’s neck joined his shoulder. Starsky gasped in pleasure, and leaned back. Hutch bit gently then licked away that momentary flash of pain. He worked his way up Starsky’s neck nipping and licking, leaving a trail of fire in his wake, until he finally reached Starsky’s mouth. His tongue plundered that warm, moist heat, moving in and out. Starsky reached up to run his fingers through Hutch’s hair, massaging as he went and tilting his head for a better angle to deepen the kiss. He always tastes so good. When Hutch moaned into his mouth, Starsky was sure he could feel it all the way to his toes.

Hutch pulled away and nibbled his way along Starsky’s jaw. He stopped to linger on the spot right under his ear that forced Starsky to lock his knees in order to remain standing. His breathing was getting ragged.

He was lost in the sensation and he felt like his cock just got hard as granite. “God… Hutch… that feels… good… please…”

“Please what?” Starsky could hear that seductive smile, even if he couldn’t see it. He never would have thought his partner was such a tease. Hutch continued to suck on that spot, waiting for an answer.

Deciding that it would be easier to simply show him what he wanted than try to organize his words into anything that might resemble coherent sentences, Starsky encircled Hutch’s shaft with one hand and began stroking slowly. Hutch sighed, his warm breath ghosting across Starsky’s skin raising goose bumps. Starsky was surprised when Hutch’s hand circled his wrist halting his movement. Starsky raised an eyebrow meeting Hutch’s eyes.

Suddenly shy, Hutch dropped his eyes. “Want to come inside you, Babe.” Somehow he made that sound as both a statement of preference and a question at the same time.

Someday I am going to figure out how he does that. Starsky smiled. “Sure, Blondie. For you… anything.”

He leaned into his lover, reveling in Hutch’s reaction to full body contact. Slowly he turned away, maintaining that level of contact. His smile got wider as he felt Hutch’s breathing become increasingly ragged. With genuine regret, Starsky stepped away and rested his palms against the wall of the shower. He could feel the warm water running down over his back.

Hutch leaned in against him and nuzzled the back of his neck. “You are so beautiful,” he whispered, letting his hands roam up and down Starsky’s chest. Starsky’s nipples weren’t as sensitive as Hutch’s but he still loved the way it felt when Hutch caressed them.

Those incredibly talented fingers traced Starsky’s muscles, following each contour. They moved down his chest and abdomen, then around his ribs and up his back. Caressing and massaging, he chuckled when Starsky moaned softly. “Like that?”

“Yes.”

“Good.”

Finally, he felt Hutch slip one soapy finger inside while his partner’s other hand continued to travel up and down his chest. Starsky wanted to touch his cock so badly, but was afraid he’d come too soon if he did. He felt a second finger and couldn’t stop himself from rocking back into it.

“Feels good… real good.”

Hutch inserted a third finger and brushed Starsky’s prostrate. Starsky felt like his whole body was throbbing. He could feel Hutch’s fingers stretching him out and moaned softly.

“You okay, Babe?”

“Oh, yeah… I’m good…I’m ready… Please, Blondie… now… want you inside of me.” He felt Hutch’s fingers pull out to be replaced by his lovers thick, hard shaft.

Hutch eased himself into Starsky. He waited for Starsky to relax, for his breathing to even out before moving. Hutch leaned in to nibble on his earlobe. He whispered in that husky tone Starsky found so appealing, “Touch yourself, Babe. I want you to come with me.”

Starsky reached down and began to fist his dick, matching his rhythm to Hutch’s.

Hutch’s hands rested on his hips bracing himself while his fingers traced tiny circles. Starsky could feel the minute shudders coursing through Hutch as his orgasm built. As one, they increased their speed. Hutch was now regularly striking Starsky’s prostate. He knew he wasn’t going to hold out much longer. With a shout he came, spraying his seed on the shower wall. He felt Hutch come only a few seconds later.

Starsky leaned against the wall trying to catch his breath. He felt Hutch resting against him, lazily running soapy hands over his chest. Starsky sighed, simply enjoying that calming, tender touch. Love those hands.

When Hutch finally pulled away, he didn’t stop touching Starsky. He continued to lather his hands and thoroughly, yet gently, clean his lover. Starsky couldn’t help but grin thinking how much he liked showering with Hutch. Even when they didn’t do anything more than simply wash each other, it was still something special. Starsky returned the favor, making sure Hutch was just as clean by the time they finally turned off the water.

Starsky liked watching his lover towel off. Though his movements were brisk and efficient, they were still graceful and fluid. Starsky preferred to take his time, leisurely drying off, making the most of the opportunity to just watch.

Hutch deftly tied the towel around his waist, combed his hair back with careless fingers, smiled at Starsky and winked. Starsky blushed, knowing he’d been caught staring.

Hutch headed out of the bathroom. He called over his shoulder, “We eating in again, or heading out?”

Starsky thought about that. He pulled on one of the complementary robes the hotel supplied and slipped the pendant back on. Leaning against the door jam, he watched as Hutch pulled on a pair of faded jeans. “What do you want to do?”

“Doesn’t matter to me. Meal was good last night…” The rest of whatever Hutch had been saying was lost in a humongous yawn.

Starsky smiled. “I don’t think either of us are really up for a night on the town, so ‘in’ would probably be good.”

Hutch smiled back. “Think what you’re in the mood for is on the menu?”

Starsky couldn’t resist letting his eyes run up and down his partner’s lean frame. “Oh, yeah. I had the appetizer, just need to order the main course. We can have dessert later.” Starsky’s smile grew wider when he noticed Hutch’s faint blush.

Hutch glanced through the menu, eliminating anything Italian or Chinese. He finally opted for a chef salad and the chicken cordon bleu with ginger carrots. Starsky ordered the veal cutlet and a baked potato.

Hutch sighed, shook his head, and thought, I’m never going to get him to eat something green. Although, I suppose this is at least somewhat healthier than most of the stuff he usually eats.

Starsky joined Hutch on the bed and rested his head on his lover’s bare shoulder. He relaxed completely when Hutch raised a hand to casually run his fingers through Starsky’s hair. Starsky sighed quietly, listening to the steady beat of Hutch’s heart.

Several minutes passed before Hutch asked quietly, “Do you want to head home tomorrow when this is finished?” He felt Starsky shrug.

“The way things have been going, I’m not sure I’d be up for a four hour drive back to Bay City. I’d probably fall asleep at the wheel.”

“Tomorrow is Friday,” Hutch offered. He felt Starsky tilt his head up to rest against Hutch’s as he caught the idea Hutch was proposing.

“I don’t think Dobey would object to our taking our time getting back. We drove the Torino here so it isn’t like we have a department vehicle that someone else might need. And we’re supposed to have this weekend off anyway. You know, Blondie, I’ve never been to Sacramento before.”

“Yeah, I know.” Hutch’s tone clearly encouraged Starsky to keep talking.

“And really, all I’ve seen of the state in all the time I’ve lived here is the southern half. I think we have an opportunity here to educate me on what this state might have to offer.”

Hutch chuckled. “So, you want to go play tourist on the way home?”

Starsky tilted his head up to meet Hutch’s eyes. “Would be nice to salvage something fun out of this whole damn trip. You game?”

“Hell, Starsky, I’d go anywhere with you.” Hutch kissed the tip of Starsky’s nose. “It would be nice to just spend some time being us.”

Starsky laid his head against Hutch’s shoulder again. “Thanks, Blondie.”

“You’re welcome.”

 

Chapter 4

I have a lot of bad associations with hospitals. If I were honest, I’d admit that they scare the hell out of me. That’s right… I, David Starsky, am afraid of hospitals. There, I said it. Not out loud, mind you, but at least I can be honest with myself, if no one else. I can’t remember a single good thing that ever happened to me in a hospital: my father was declared dead in one, my first partner, Anderson, died in one, and then Terry. Then there was my own death, as I have come to think of it, after Gunther’s attack. Not to mention all the times my partner and I have ended up here when we came close to dying: me with Bellamy’s poison, and Hutch with the plague just to name a couple. I hate hospitals with a passion. To me, they seem to reek of pain, fear, sorrow, and desperation.

I expended a little of my share of fear and desperation not all that long ago. I can feel the after effect of all that adrenaline still running through my system. All I really want to do is lie down and lose myself in sleep for a long, long time. But I can’t. Not yet. Not until I know for sure that Hutch is going to be all right. I can’t lose my partner. I simple CAN NOT do it, especially now. For the past few months, Hutch has become so much more than just my partner or even my best friend. Not for the first time, I wonder about the nature of God’s sense of humor. I’m terrified that he might have given me something so very precious just so I’ll know how much it hurts to lose it.

I’ve been pacing the waiting room for the better part of two hours while the doctor works on patching up my partner and lover. My hand keeps straying toward the pendant Hutch gave me, while I worry about losing the other half of my soul.

That worry keeps me moving despite my overwhelming exhaustion. I think Dobey is ready to tie me down, but he knows better than to tell me to sit still. I’ll say this for our boss; he’s smart. He’s pushy as hell when he needs to be, but he seems to know when to back off, too. It’s a very rare talent.

So instead of telling me to sit, he looks at me calmly and asks, “What happened?”

I actually have to pause and think about that. I need to organize the events in my head before I can speak. I don’t stop pacing as I talk, but I do force myself to occasionally make eye contact with him. That’s proving to be harder than I expected.

“We went to Huggy’s for supper. Place has kind of grown on Hutch over the last few years.” I smile at him when I say that. “And if you tell Hutch I said that, he’ll deny it, then kill me.”

Dobey smiles and assures me that he won’t tell Hutch. “It’ll be our little secret.” He waits a few more minutes before urging me to continue with the story.

“We ate dinner. Talked about our cases. Argued a little about everything like we always do.”

I pause, thinking about that. I’ve never told another person how much Hutch means to me. Well, other than Hutch that is. I’m sure everyone knows that we are friends and that we make a damn good team. But since we’ve been partners, he is, in many ways, my only family. We fight like cats and dogs at times, but that’s just the way we are. People that know us know how close we are, it’s kind of like they wonder where one of is if he is more than two steps behind the other. Starsky and Hutch, people say it like it’s one word. We’re a team in every sense of the word. He’d better be okay. I’m not sure I could handle anything else.

I rub a hand over my face, trying to force my thoughts back to where they belong. Better finish telling Dobey the story.

“Neither of us was quite ready to call it a night, so we decided to play some pool.”

Hutch is pretty good at it. I’m no slouch at the game either. It’s one of the pastimes that we both enjoy. And I’m always willing to do anything that lets me just watch him. Bending over the table accents the nice, lean curve of his beautiful ass and has a tendency to throw off my game. Not that I really mind all that much. I’ve even managed to throw him off his game a time or two. It adds a dimension to the game I’d never really thought about until we became lovers.

“We played a couple of games when Hutch decided to call it a night. I wasn’t ready to head for home yet. So I racked up the balls for another game.”

Hutch and I had decided early on in our relationship not to tell anyone about us being lovers. Cops are typically very homophobic and neither of us really wanted to deal with anymore stress or hostility in the work place. So even though I was more than ready to leave when Hutch did, I stayed to maintain the appearance of our normal schedules.

It hadn’t been unusual for him to leave before me. Hutch is more of a morning person than a night owl. There was a time at the beginning of our partnership that I thought it would be another reason why we wouldn’t be able to work together. I’ve never thought much of being up at the crack of dawn and I don’t think Hutch has missed a sunrise in years. After a while though, I realized this was really a reason why we could work together. When I’m not at my best, he is. When he’s winding down, I’m alert and ready to cover his back. Funny, until now, I hadn’t realized how much of our partnership was built on that kind of give and take.

I look over at Dobey and realize that he’s still waiting for me to speak. I shake my head and try to clear my thoughts. I must be really tired if my mind keeps wandering away like this. It’s never been a good sign when I can’t control my thoughts. With a sigh, I continue the story.

“Couldn’t have been twenty minutes later, this guy comes running in. He tells Huggy to call the cops.”

Dobey nods. “That would have been John Reynolds. Johnson and Lattimer have already taken his statement.”

I shrug. “Never got his name.” I take a deep breath and release it slowly. “Huggy called me over and said the guy wanted a cop. I introduced myself and he tells me some poor bastard is getting the crap beaten out of him in the alley. I told Huggy to call for back up and headed out. I was thinking it was just a couple of drunks who just got carried away. No big deal. Right?”

I take another deep breath. “It isn’t well lit in that alley, but I could see enough to make out what was going on. Three guys are beating up on another man. Two were holding his arms while the third one pummeled him. I pulled my gun and told them to freeze. I identified myself as a police officer. One of them—the guy who’d been doing the hitting—turned to face me with a gun in his hand. I told him to drop it, but the stupid prick, he fires at me!!!”

Seeing the look on Dobey’s face, I realize that I must have raised my voice. I can still feel the anger and surprise at being shot at when I had the man dead to rights. Now is not the time or the place to let those feelings get out of hand, so I force myself to continue in a more normal tone of voice.

“He missed. I returned fire. I was aiming to disable the dumb son-of-a-bitch.” I stop pacing to stand in of him. “Got him in the shoulder. I remember thinking, Hutch would be impressed.”

It’s well known around the department that my partner is a damn fine marksman. He’s probably one of the best on the force. He turned down a position with the SWAT team. So it takes quite a bit to impress him. Hitting my target, in limited light, while under fire, would be just the sort of thing to get Hutch’s attention.

“That’s when I realized the guy getting the crap beat out of him is my partner.”

I can see my hands shaking and I know Dobey can see it, too. I ball them into fists trying to control it. I don’t want to lose it in front of the captain. He might make me leave and I can’t do that. Not until I know if Hutch’s okay.

“The other two took off down the alley. I’d heard back up arriving but I wasn’t really focusing on any of that. I was more concerned with Hutch at that point. Once they let go of him, he… he just sort of… slid down the wall. Jesus… Cap… he looked… he looked—”

Dobey stands and gently leads me to a chair. “Easy, David. Easy. It’s okay. Hutch is going to be fine.”

I all but collapse in the chair. I take a shaky breath and swallow hard. I’d already thrown up once before Dobey got here and I really didn’t want to do it again. Seeing Hutch lying there in that alley… GOD!! It definitely ranks right up there with the worst moments of my life. I remember thinking that if they killed him, I would hunt them down and skin them alive. I can still feel the rage. That these fucking pricks would dare to hurt MY partner. Hell, he’s more than my partner; he’s my best friend, my lover. I wanted to make them pay for hurting him.

Dobey picks up the thread of my story, forcing me back to the here and now.

“Backup arrived. Then what happened?”

“I told them to call for an ambulance… told them to cuff the perp I shot and said the other two had taken off down the alley. I stayed with Hutch. Huggy came out at some point, I don’t really remember when, but he had a blanket with him. There was blood all over Hutch. Most of it looked like it was coming from a cut on his arm. Huggy got a towel and gave it to me to wrap his arm. Seemed like forever before the ambulance finally arrived.”

“Was Hutch conscious?”

“Sort of. He was awake, but I don’t think he was really there. He kept trying to move. I had to… had to hold him down.” I swallowed hard remembering that I wasn’t sure if holding him down would cause him more pain than letting him up. I knew he had to be hurting because he didn’t fight me nearly as much as I thought he would. That scared me, too.

“Right before he lost consciousness, he seemed to know who I was.”

Hutch looked at me, really looked at me, and stopped fighting me. I knew he finally realized who I was. The relief I felt then was so powerful, that if I hadn’t been sitting down, I would have fallen. He reached out to grip my arm and asked me if I was okay. He looked relieved and smiled when I told him I was fine.

“When did he lose consciousness?” Dobey asks quietly, giving me time to pull myself together. I always knew he had a great touch when it came to handling witnesses. Never thought that I’d be experiencing it firsthand though.

“Right before they loaded him in the ambulance.” I had just about lost it when he went totally limp and closed his eyes. Some part of me firmly believed that he’d have to stay with me as long as he was looking at me. Weird. I mean, I know better, but I still had that feeling.

At that moment, a doctor chose to appear. “Is there someone here for Sergeant Hutchinson?”

“That would be us,” Dobey answers for both of us, as we stand to face her. “I’m his supervisor, Captain Harold Dobey, and this is his partner, Sergeant David Starsky.”

The doctor nods. “I’m Dr. Greer. I was on call when Sergeant Hutchinson was brought in.”

I want desperately to ask if Hutch was all right, but I can’t seem to get the words out. Dobey asks for me. “What can you tell us, Dr. Greer?”

“Your officer was very lucky. His injuries could have been much worse.” I want to tell her to just get on with it, but the hold Dobey had on my arm kept me silent. I didn’t want to hear how lucky Hutch was; I wanted to hear he was going to be okay.

“Sergeant Hutchinson has three broken ribs and hairline fractures in two others. From the X-ray, it looks as though he’s broken those same ribs before, probably more than once. The cut on his left arm went to the bone and needed thirty stitches. The cut above his right eye also required several stitches. With any luck it should heal without any scarring. He doesn’t have any internal hemorrhaging, which frankly, given the severity of bruising on his chest and abdomen, I would have expected.”

Dr. Greer looks down at the chart she holds in her hand. “As I said, he was very lucky. He has a concussion, but all the tests have shown no sign of brain damage. He did regain consciousness during the exam. He was coherent enough to answer questions, but he doesn’t appear to remember all the details of the attack. Something that’s fairly common with head injuries.”

Dr. Greer directs her next statement to Dobey. “He’s going to be very stiff and sore for several days and he will have to be assigned light duty until his ribs are fully healed.”

“I expected as much,” Dobey says calmly. I envied his ability to be so together when I felt like jumping up and down.

“So… he’s going to be okay? Right?” I had to be sure of what the doctor was saying. I heard the words but it was taking a while for the meaning to sink in.

She smiles gently. “Yes. With a little rest he should be fine.”

“When can I see him?”

“I’d like to keep him here overnight for observation. Once he’s settled into a room you can see him. I’ll send someone to come get you.”

“Thank you.” It came out as a whisper but I know she heard me. She smiles again before nodding and heading back down the hall.

I was feeling weak in the knees and shaking. Hutch was going to be all right. Now I just had to keep it together until I could see him. I can do that. Piece of cake.

Johnson and Lattimer walk into the waiting room. I let Dobey fill them in, not really feeling up to it right at the moment. I sit back down in the most uncomfortable chair I’ve ever had the misfortune to use and try to relax. Why is it that hospitals routinely have the most uncomfortable furniture? Doesn’t matter what hospital or where you are in the country. Brooklyn or Bay City, it doesn’t make a damn bit of difference because the chairs are all the same.

I look up when Johnson sits down next to me. He looks about as uncomfortable as I feel. Safe bet I’m not the only one who hates hospitals. Truth be told, I don’t know a single cop who really likes them.

He speaks softly. “Thought you’d want to know that we caught the other two guys. Jake Webber and John Burch. Seems both of them are friends of Frank Roberts. Other one… the one you shot, was Jim Roberts, Frank’s brother.”

“Roberts? Who’s Frank Roberts?” The name isn’t ringing any bells for me at all. None of our active or past cases involve any one by that name that I could remember.

He looks confused for a minute. “Oh… Sorry, Starsky. It was just before you and Hutch were partnered.” Johnson smiles and looks sheepish. “Forgot you two haven’t been partnered forever. Starsky and Hutch, it just seems like it’s always been that way.”

I take that as a compliment. I make a “go on” motion with my hands, curious as to what this Roberts character had to do with my partner being attacked.

“Musta been ’bout eight years ago now. Hutch was still in uniform then. Roberts’ case was an ugly one and it got a lot of press coverage.” Johnson pauses. He shakes his head and sighs quietly.

“Julie Roberts was a girl, ’bout sixteen. She was snatched on her way home from school. Raped and murdered. Hutch caught the guy who did it. I think his name was Mitchell. Shoulda been the end of it, but Frank Roberts, Julie’s father, was an eye for an eye kind of man. He wanted to make sure that the bastard who’d hurt his little girl got what was coming to him. So he found out when Mitchell was gonna be moved and set himself up with a sniper rifle. Took out Mitchell like a pro. One shot and no one saw a thing.”

Johnson smiles sadly. “Hutch took it kind of personal that a prisoner got killed on his watch. You know how he gets.”

I nod. Oh yes, I knew how Hutch could be with a case he took personally. Very driven doesn’t even begin to describe it. Obsessive might be a better word. But then, I’m no better.

“So, Hutch sets out to find out who killed Mitchell. Lotta people couldn’t really understand that. I mean, the bastard raped and murdered a sixteen-year-old girl. Weren’t anyone real sorry to see him dead. But Hutch said Mitchell was entitled to a trial like everybody else and that, as a murder victim, he deserved the same level of effort that we’d give anyone else in trying to find his killer. So… Hutch worked the case. Saw to it that Roberts was brought to justice.”

Johnson sighs and looks at the floor. “You can just imagine how ugly the trial was. Anyway… a long story short. A sympathetic jury sentenced Roberts to ten-to-fifteen. He’d be eligible for parole in another year or so, ‘cept that two weeks ago he got knifed in the prison exercise yard.”

“Killed?” I ask. It was really more of a statement than a question.

“Deader than a door nail,” Johnson confirms. “Jim Roberts blames Hutch for his brother bein’ in jail and gettin’ killed. So he rounded up Burch and Webber and decided it was time for a little pay back.”

Johnson shoots me a wolfish grin that was more a bearing of teeth than anything else. “I think that they’re gonna find that tryin’ ta kill a cop don’t go down well with most folks. They ain’t gonna be thought of as heroes.”

No one had better think of them as some damn heroes. After what they did to Hutch, that son-of-a-bitch Roberts is lucky I didn’t kill him outright. I take a deep breath.

When I thought this was just a mugging, I assumed they might be charged with assault, maybe with intent to kill. Now… “You book them for attempted murder?”

Johnson nods. “Yep. And conspiracy. Shouldn’t have much trouble makin’ the case. There’s plenty of evidence. In addition to the gun Roberts fired at you, we also have a knife found in the alley. Lab boys are goin’ over it, but it’s a safe bet that the blood on it is Hutch’s, and the fingerprints belong to either Burch or Webber. Got Reynolds’ statement too.”

At my blank look, Johnson elaborates, “The guy who wanted Huggy to call the cops.”

I nod. I remember Dobey mentioning his name but I just can’t seem to hang on to it tonight. It isn’t really a detail that seems very important right now.

Johnson continues, “Reynolds picked Webber and Burch out of a line up less than twenty minutes ago. Burch has priors and he was singing like a bird about Roberts and Webber in exchange for a deal.”

Before I totally lose my temper I have to ask, “What kind of deal did he get?”

Johnson must hear the icy rage in my voice because I receive another one of those teeth bearing grins. “Nuthin’ too sweet, Starsky. Not to worry. D.A. handling the case knows Hutch.”

I nod, not entirely satisfied but willing to let it go for now. If they had killed Hutch… well, all bets would have been off then. Knowing he’s going to be all right, I can afford to be generous. I’d settle for them spending the rest of their natural lives behind bars.

Before I could say anything else, a nurse walks in.

“Sergeant Starsky?” she calls out looking around the room. She pronounced my name wrong but I ignore it and wave her over. “Dr. Greer wanted me to let you know that Mr. Hutchinson is in room 324. If you’re ready… I can take you up.”

Before leaving, I ask Dobey to call Huggy. He would want to know that Hutch was okay and I really don’t feel up to talking to him at the moment. Maybe after I see Hutch.

The nurse leads me to his room. I take a deep breath before I entered and mentally brace myself.

I walk in and stop. Hutch is lying in the bed. Despite the bruises and bandages, he definitely looks better than he did the last time I saw him. He’s alive and there’s no sight more beautiful to me right then. I know the doctor said he would be all right, but until I actually saw him, I couldn’t shake the image of him in that alley. It was reassuring to see him whole and breathing.

I somehow manage to get my legs to take me closer. I reach out to encircle his wrist with my hand, mindful of the IV. The warm feel of his skin and the beat of his pulse under my hand are somehow more comforting than the steady beeping of the heart monitor. Of its own volition, my other hand carefully brushes a stray lock of blond hair from his forehead.

I watch carefully as he breathes in and lets it out in a quiet sigh. His eyes open slowly. I expect him to be disoriented or confused, but his eyes are clear and calm as he looks me over from head to toe. He studies my face for a minute.

I’ve been caught in that assessing gaze before, so I don’t bother trying to hide the effects of the last few hours. Wasn’t any point in doing so, because he’d see it anyway.

“You… okay?” Hutch whispers. Despite whatever painkillers they might have given him, it’s obvious his ribs are making it hard to talk.

“I’m fine.” I keep my voice quiet. Doesn’t feel right to speak at normal volume. Just another thing about hospitals that I hate, they subdue you even when you feel like shouting.

“You sure? Cause… you don’t… look it.” There is a ghost of a smile on Hutch’s face. “You… might want… to—”

“Yeah. Yeah. I know. I might want to inform my face,” I finish for him. I can’t help but smile. “You scared me a little there,” I whisper.

“Sorry.”

“S’okay. Not your fault. Dr. Greer told me that you’re going to be okay.”

Hutch nods slightly. “Yeah. She… told me… that, too. You get… ’em?”

I didn’t have to ask whom he meant. “Yeah. They were rounded up even before the doctor got done patching you up.”

“Who?”

“Some friends of Frank Roberts and his brother, Jim. Johnson said they’re being booked for attempted murder and conspiracy to commit murder.”

Hutch just nods and closes his eyes. He sighs quietly before opening his eyes again, his expression a mixture of sorrow and resignation.

“Whole damn… family is… too hung up… on revenge to… see straight.”

I can’t think of anything to say to that. It wasn’t all that long ago I was dealing with my own anger and desire for revenge. If Hutch had died, they wouldn’t have had to worry about the expense of a trial. I know better than to say that to him though. While I know he’d understand how I felt, Hutch would never condone anything that didn’t fit with his convictions about what was right and wrong. My partner has a lot of old-fashioned ideas. And I sometimes think that his views are from the last century rather than this one, but oddly enough, it’s one of the things I like best about him.

“When… they gonna… let me go… home?”

The question doesn’t really surprise me. It would have been the first thing I’d have asked about. “Doctor said she wants to keep you here overnight for observation. Probably will let you leave tomorrow if you behave yourself.”

Hutch smirks at the “behave yourself” and moves as if to get more comfortable. The movement halts abruptly with a wince and his breath hissing out between clenched teeth. I hadn’t thought it possible for him to get any more pale but just then he was the same color as the sheet.

“Easy, Hutch.” I start looking around for the call button, beginning to feel faintly panicked when I can’t find it.

Hutch grips my arm, forcing my attention back to him. “S’okay… Just forgot how… much having broken… ribs hurts.”

“Maybe I should go get a nurse.” I don’t like the idea of him being in pain.

“No.” Hutch takes a shallow breath. “It’ll… be all right… in a minute.”

I watch him like a hawk until I see his color improve and his breathing ease. I release a breath I’d forgotten I’d been holding. I’m still not entirely convinced that I shouldn’t call someone. Hutch isn’t always the best judge of his own health. For that matter, neither am I. I don’t think it’s a refusal to admit to weakness as much as it’s simply a desire to hold on to the illusion that if I say I’m fine, then I’m fine, no matter how bad it looks. Denial is a wonderful thing.

“You okay, now?” I want to hear him say it. Childish, I suppose, but I want to hear it just the same.

“Yeah. I’m… okay.” Hutch shifts again and winces. “More or less.”

“They give you something for the pain?”

Hutch nods. “Enough to take… the edge off. Said… they couldn’t give… me anything stronger… ’cause of… the concussion.” He has to know what I thought about that because his grip on my arm tightened. “Just doing their… job, Starsk. Not their… fault I got… hit in the head… and jumped in… that alley.”

No, it wasn’t their fault. I feel like it was mine. I should have been there to watch his back. Realistically, I know there was no way for me to know that it was going to happen. But I still felt guilty about the whole thing. If I had just left with him or if we hadn’t stayed to play pool all this could have been avoided.

Hutch’s eyes narrow as he looks at me. “Not your fault, either.” His tone doesn’t leave any room for argument.

I make a mental note to never play poker with him. The man can read me far too easily. Not that I’ve ever been very secretive about my emotions.

“I should have been there,” I tell him.

He frowns and looks confused. “Starsk, you… were there.”

“Not soon enough,” I insist.

Hutch carefully shrugs one shoulder. “I got hurt… I’m not dead. You got there… soon enough.” He grins and pats my arm. “By the way… nice shot.”

“You saw that?”

“Yeah, I saw that.”

I’m surprised. Given how out of it he seemed in the alley, I didn’t think he’d even been aware I was there, much less the shot I’d made. Let that be a lesson to me. Never underestimate my partner. You would think I’d know better than that by now. Oh, well, so I’m a slow learner. But I’ve got plenty of time to learn. Thank God.

“You want me to pick you up tomorrow when they let you out of here?” I ask even though I already know the answer.

“Yes. Hell, yes,” Hutch says emphatically.

Taking a good look at him, I can see he isn’t far from falling asleep. “I better get out of here and let you rest.”

Hutch snorts. “Rest. Riiiight. You… know that… they’re gonna… wake me… every couple o’ hours.”

“Yeah, I know. Don’t sweat it. Dobey’s already decided to give you a couple of days to catch up on your beauty sleep. He even gave me a couple ’cause he knew you’d need someone to look after you. I’ll be back tomorrow to pick you up. Remember to behave or they might decide to keep you longer.”

A sleepy glare is the only response. His breathing slows and I watch as the residual tension in his lanky frame eases. I run my fingers through his hair knowing it will help him relax. Funny, it’s just as soothing for me to play with his hair as it is for him to have it played with. I’m still playing with it when the nurse returns and tells me visiting hours are over.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Hutch.” I whisper, and ignoring the nurse, I bend down to place a quick kiss on his forehead.

* * * *

I am back at the hospital first thing in the morning. I know they won’t release Hutch until later in the day. For some reason hospitals seem reluctant to let anyone leave before ten. I’m not sure why, but my cynical side is betting it has something to do with billing you for a full day.

Coming in early turns out to be a good thing though. I manage to finish the necessary hospital forms that I couldn’t even concentrate on the night before. Almost all the information is already on file. It says something about our line of work when the hospital already knows damn near everything they need just to admit you and start working on saving your life.

My name is listed as his next of kin. Underneath mine is Dobey’s. Almost from the day I met Hutch, I’ve known he didn’t have any immediate family nearby but seeing my own name listed still surprises me.

When the hell did he do that? And for that matter, why? I would have thought he’d have written in his parents. I rethink that. No, not his parents. What little I know of Hutch’s father, seeing his name would have been more of a surprise than seeing my own. Calling the relationship between Hutch and his father estranged would have been a monumental understatement. As far as I know, they only speak once a year, on Hutch’s birthday.

I can’t help but wonder if simply putting me down on the form as next of kin is in any way legally binding. I’ve heard the horror stories other same sex couples have encountered with family when their lovers are incapacitated and unable to make their wishes known. It would kill me to not be able to see him. Dear God, if he were ever seriously injured… I have to remind myself to breathe when I think that someone might be able to keep me from seeing Hutch.

Although, now that I think about it, it is far more likely some member of my family would try to prevent Hutch from seeing me. Not that most of them are here in Bay City, but knowing my partner, he would feel obligated to call them if I was ever seriously injured again. And I’m afraid that this time they would come down, overwhelm everyone, and do their best to keep anyone away who wasn’t immediate family. Well, that isn’t going to happen. Sometime today I promise myself, I intend to broach this subject with Hutch. I will find a way to make us legal next of kin. I wouldn’t want Hutch kept away any more than I would want to be kept away.

I hand the forms back to the duty nurse with a smile. She smiles back. She’s pretty and tries to flirt with me. There was a time when I would have encouraged her, even flirted back, but not anymore. Right now, I just want to see Hutch. I thank her for her time and head upstairs.

Thinking he might still be sleeping, I make my way quietly into his room. The head of the bed is raised and he’s watching TV. He eyes the TV for a minute before turning it off with a resigned expression. I could have told him daytime TV sucks.

Blue eyes meet mine as soon as I step all the way into the room. “You been awake long?” I ask as I step over to the bed.

He raises an eyebrow and shrugs. “Get up same time every day, Starsk. ” Hutch sighs quietly. “Besides, it wasn’t like they let me get much sleep anyway.”

I take a good look at him and I can see he’s telling the truth. He looks exhausted. Hell, I’m willing to bet he didn’t get any more sleep than I did. Every time I closed my eyes last night, I saw him sliding down the wall in that damn alley or passing out in my arms. I woke up almost every hour covered in sweat and shaking with fear. I found myself reaching for him, expecting to find Hutch sleeping soundly on his side of the bed. Every time I encountered empty space, I was scared to death that he had actually been killed and I had only dreamed the hospital and hearing he was going to be all right.

I can’t help but give him the once over, taking in the vivid bruises on his face and bandage on his arm.

I know he’s going over me as well. “You okay?” His voice is soft and full of concern.

I open my eyes and nod. “Just couldn’t sleep last night.”

Hutch cocks his head to one side slightly. “Why?”

I think about lying… for all of a second. “Kept seeing you in that alley.”

He gives me an understanding look. One of the things I really enjoy about our partnership is that it takes so little for us to communicate. We’ve always understood each other.

“When are they letting you out?” I ask, changing the subject.

“Doctor is supposed to see me in an hour. I can leave after that. Did you bring me any clothes?”

I grin and hold up the bag I brought with me.

The smile he gives me is full of gratitude. “Give me my jeans, will you? Hate these damn hospital gowns.”

I chuckle at that. “I know the feeling, Blondie.” I rummage around in the bag until I find the pair of boxers and sweat pants I brought. I hand them over to him. Seeing the look on his face, my smile widens. Hutch detests wearing anything other than jeans in public. To him, sweats were not acceptable attire to be worn outside of lounging around the house.

“Figured these would be easier to get into than your jeans.” I’m prepared to argue the point if I have to.

Hutch sighs and gives in with more grace than I expected. “You have a point.”

He doesn’t ask for help getting dressed, but I give it anyway. I can tell from the careful way he moves that he’s still in a considerable amount of pain, very stiff and sore. He’s pale and his breathing is shallow. The slight tremors and almost, but not quite, soundless moans make me clench my jaw.

“They give you anything stronger for the pain?” I ask softly, not wanting him to know just how angry I am.

“No.”

“Why not?”

Hutch sighs with relief as he carefully relaxes back on the bed. He’s only half dressed, but there is no point in putting on a shirt until after the doctor looks at him. I wince looking at the spectacular black and blue bruises that I can see covering his torso. Even with his ribs wrapped, there is no hiding how much damage was done. Seeing me wince, Hutch looks down at himself and shakes his head. When he looks back up, his expression is rueful.

“Haven’t had bruises this color in some time. Kind of impressive really.”

Undeterred, I ask again, “Why haven’t they given you anything?”

“They were gonna give me codeine ’til the nurse checked my chart and noticed that I’d had bad reactions to it in the past. She had to check with the doctor to see about something else.”

“When was this?”

‘”Bout half an hour ago.”

I run my fingers through my hair and take a deep breath. I make a conscious effort to hold myself together. Seeing Hutch in pain just makes it more difficult than I expected. I keep my eyes on the floor but it doesn’t work. Even without looking at his bruises, I can still see them. I can still see him in that alley covered with blood. Three on one and they brought a knife and a gun. God. I can’t shake the thought that he could have died last night. If that guy hadn’t passed the alley just then, or if Roberts had decided to just shoot him, if I’d gotten there another minute later…

“David?”

“Yeah?”

“You okay?” His voice is a little hesitant. It isn’t a tone I’m used to hearing from him. I look up, and meet his worried eyes.

“I’m fine.”

“You sure?”

“I just don’t like the idea of you being in pain.”

He smiles slightly. “Not real crazy about it myself.” He keeps looking at me, waiting for me to say more. I hate that. For some reason, I simply can’t keep my mouth shut when he looks at me like that.

“Thought I’d lost you.” I clench my hands into fists to keep them from shaking. Unfortunately, the tremble seems to be spreading throughout my body. I can’t do this now. I need to stay in control. Hutch doesn’t need my fears and insecurities right now. I drop my eyes back to the floor and try to breathe normally.

“Hey, it’s okay. Starsk, it’s okay.” Hutch’s voice is soft. I close my eyes and try to imprint the fact that he is alive on my senses.

“It’s okay, Babe. I’m right here. It’s okay. Nothing that won’t heal.” He pulls my hand up and lays it against his throat. I can feel his pulse beating strongly. Hearing his voice, feeling the warmth of his skin and the steady rhythm of his pulse goes a long way toward dispelling my fear and calming me. I breathe in the scent of him and let it out slowly.

After a few minutes I pull away. I’m embarrassed. The man is in a hospital bed. I should be the one comforting him, not the other way around.

“Sorry.”

“For what?”

“For losing it like that.”

“Nothing to be sorry for.” Hutch takes my chin in one hand and gently forces me to look up. “I know where you’re coming from. Been there. Done that. It’s okay.”

I can tell he means that. I feel like some weight I didn’t realize I’d been carrying was lifted. All I can think to say is, “Thanks.”

“Any time, partner. Any time.” He pats my cheek before relaxing back on the bed again.

The nurse picks that moment to enter and I’m grateful for the distraction. She offers a paper cup with three pills in it to Hutch and another one full of water.

Hutch dumps the pills into one hand. “What is it?” he asks her.

She tells him but I don’t recognize the name. I can tell Hutch doesn’t recognize it either but he just nods and raises the cup of water. The nurse doesn’t notice that he only swallows one of the pills, but I do. I wait until she leaves before I ask.

“Why didn’t you take all the pills, Hutch?” He better have a damn good reason, because I am in no mood to hear some kind of macho crap. He’s in pain, so he should be taking the medicine. If he can take one pill, he sure as hell can take them all. His answer surprises me.

“I’ve had trouble with pain killers before. So I never take a full dose of anything new until I know it won’t do something it shouldn’t.”

I consider this for a minute. Up until now it had never occurred to me that he might have allergic reactions to anything. Trouble with painkillers could be anything from simply making him lightheaded to anaphylactic shock. Knowing Hutch, he’s probably understating the case, so I ask for more detail. “Trouble? How bad?”

“Most of the time it isn’t any big deal. Just makes me sick to my stomach or messes up my head a little.” Hutch relaxes back on to the bed and sighs. “Take it from me… throwing up with broken ribs isn’t much fun. And a concussion messes up your head enough as it is, so it doesn’t take much for anything to make it worse.”

He reaches out, taking my hand and letting his fingers intertwine with mine. “It only got really bad once. Broke out in hives and I couldn’t breathe. I don’t ever want to do that again if I can help it.”

“And you didn’t think this problem with painkillers was something you should tell me?”

“It never came up before. They’ve never tried to give me anything that I was allergic to until this morning.”

I sigh. That’s so typical of my partner. It never came up. If he wasn’t already in pain and covered with bruises, I think I’d hit him. “Okay. So it’s come up now. Anything else I should know?”

Hutch shakes his head. “Not that I can think of.”

“What do you normally take? I mean, there is obviously something that won’t bother you, right?”

“Aspirin has never caused any problems.” Hutch shrugs. “Almost anything that’s a morphine derivative is a major no-no. Opiates are always iffy. Never sure just what will happen with them.”

Okay. I file this information away. “Is this on your chart somewhere?”

“Should be. They got damn near everything else written down somewhere.

Hutch closes his eyes. He doesn’t relinquish his hold on my hand. I suddenly realize he needs physical contact with me just as much as I need to touch him. His reference to the hospital records and our linked hands reminds me of being his next of kin on the form. No time like the present.

“Hutch?”

“Hmm?” He doesn’t open his eyes but he does squeeze my hand so I know he’s paying attention.

“I finished filling out the forms downstairs.”

“Good.”

“Yeah, well. I noticed I was listed as your next of kin.”

“Uh-huh. I know.”

“Why?”

Hutch opens his eyes to look at me. “Because it’s usually my partner who’s the first one to the hospital,” he says smiling at me. “It makes it easier and faster if the docs need permission to do something.”

Trust him to be practical. “What about your family?”

Hutch smiles sadly at that. “What family?”

“Your parents or your sister now that she lives out here.”

“My parents are too far away to make those immediate life and death type choices. And I don’t want my sister to worry about me. If she’s listed as next of kin, she’d be the one they’d call. She doesn’t need to know about every little bruise I get. Besides, with the kids it isn’t like she can drop everything and come down to the hospital at the drop of a hat. We both know that.”

“Your father—”

“Is the last person I’d want deciding anything for me.” Hutch’s voice is flat and hard. I recognize that tone. There will be no arguing the point or any more discussion about it either. Fair enough. I knew that even before I asked. I guess I was just looking for some kind of confirmation.

“Is listing me as your next of kin legally binding?”

“Don’t know.”

Okay. Deep breathe here. “Would you like it to be?”

Hutch studies me for a minute. “Want to tell me just what it is you’re thinking or do you want me to guess?’

I smile tightly at that. “Well, it occurred to me this morning while I was filling out those forms, that if you had been more seriously hurt… Well, see the thing is, I’ve heard the horror stories that same sex couples have with hospitals and families… and I realized that I wouldn’t be able to handle it well if I couldn’t see you.” I force myself to make eye contact. “It would kill me not to be with you.”

Hutch squeezes my hand again, his thumb lightly stroking my palm. “I know. I feel the same way.”

I release a breath. Okay. We’re on the same page. “So, do you know anyone who knows what we have to do to be made legal next of kin?”

Hutch looks away for a minute. “Yeah, I might know someone who can draw up the papers for us.” He frowns slightly.

“You okay with this?” I’m suddenly afraid I might have overstepped some unseen boundary.

His eyes meet mine. The look is so warm that I can feel it all the way to my toes. “I’m very okay with it.”

“But?” I can’t help asking. There’s something in the way he said that. I can feel there is more.

“What about your family? You got a damn site more blood relatives than I do. You love them. They love you. If we do this that means I’ll be the one making life and death decisions for you. They might not care to have an outsider doing stuff like that.”

My family… Jewish, in Brooklyn, and most with ties to the mob. They aren’t likely to be all warm and friendly to my very male lover and he’s right to say that, and they sure as hell won’t care for him being my official next of kin. My family tends toward possessive and protective of its own. Whether you want them to be or not. Still my family has been and continues to be very important to me. It’s one of the reasons I haven’t told them about Hutch and he knows this. At first, I thought it would bother him but he told me that he understood just how important my family was to me. He didn’t want me to do anything that would jeopardize my relationship with them. I know that concern is what prompted his question.

“You, Hutch, are not an outsider. To me, you are family.” I am as surprised by my vehement response as Hutch is. “Whether the others like it or not, I want you to be the one to make those hard choices for me. I trust you with my life every day. You are my best friend. You are my partner. You are the other half of my soul. I may not ever have the courage to tell them that, but please, don’t ever doubt how I feel about you.”

I’m surprised when Hutch sits up and hugs me. Hard. I’m careful not to return the hug with equal force, mindful of his ribs. He kisses my cheek softly before pulling away to place another of those warm, promise-filled, gentle kisses on my mouth.

“I never doubted how you felt. It feels good to hear you say that, just the same,” he whispers. “If you’re sure about this, I’ll talk to a lawyer I know.”

“I’m sure.”

The smile I get in response is like I just stepped into a ray of sunshine. God. I’m getting sappy. Too little sleep. Too many emotional roller coasters in one day can’t possibly be good for you.

“What time did you say the doctor would be here?” I really want to just get out of here and take him home. Get back to what passes for normal in our lives.

Hutch glances at the clock. “Not too much longer.”

“Good.”

* * * *

I pull the Torino smoothly into Hutch’s driveway and park it. Turning it off, I glance over at my dozing lover. He fell asleep almost as soon as we left the hospital. Can’t say that I blame him.

I get out, carefully closing my door. I walk around to his side of the car, open his door, and speak softly to wake him. “Hutch… hey, Blondie. C’mon. Let’s get you into bed.”

Hutch opens his eyes to stare at me for a moment. I can almost see the lights coming back on. He blinks once and then again. He nods to me and moves to get out of the car.

I am quick to catch his arm when he sways on his feet. “Easy, buddy. I gotcha.”

I know firsthand how a concussion, even days later, can disrupt your sense of balance.

It never ceases to amaze me how quickly Hutch can recover his equilibrium. One second, I’m holding him up and the next he’s standing on his own. He pats my hand, letting me know it’s okay to let go. I decide to leave it where is for the time being. Together we make our way to the house. He patiently waits while I unlock the door and we go inside.

“You want something to eat?”

“I want a shower. I’ll eat later.”

“Yes, you will. Right after you get out of the shower.” He hasn’t eaten since early last night and its almost noon. No way am I letting him miss another meal. He’s too damn skinny as it is.

Hutch scowls at me but he doesn’t argue. He heads for the bedroom, presumably for a change of clothes before going to the bathroom, and I head for the kitchen. I think Hutch must have lived on take out, delivery, or eaten out damn near every meal before we got together. Even though he didn’t stock much in the way of food, he does have a full complement of utensils to cook with. He likes to cook even if he doesn’t do it often. I, too, like to cook. And I would have hated having to bring stuff from my place every time I wanted to make a meal.

I decide on something light, simple, and quick. Soup and grilled cheese sandwiches. I would have preferred to make the soup from scratch, but canned will have do in a pinch. I have everything laid out on the table by the time Hutch emerges from the bathroom.

He’s wearing the flannel robe that I’ve come to think of as mine. It looks good on him, but then it ought to, as it’s his. He holds up the ace bandage that they had used to wrap his ribs.

“Will you help me with this?”

“Sure.”

I catch my breath when he shrugs out of the robe leaving him wearing just a pair of boxers. God. I thought the bruises looked bad at the hospital. But then I was trying NOT to see them at the hospital. Now I have no choice but to really look at them. I can see they run from his shoulders down his abdomen, almost to his hips. There are even bruises on his biceps from where he’d been held. They are impressive shades of purple, blue, and black. As I wrap the bandage to help support his ribs, I notice that he’s even got bruising down his back. Looks like they got in a few kidney punches and the bastards must have slammed him into the wall several times.

He hisses with pain.

“Please, just be patient with me. I’m trying not to hurt you.”

“Starsk, I plan to spend a life time with you. When I have thirty or forty years to look forward to, I can afford to be patient. ”

I’m caught off guard by that simple declaration. More than caught off guard, I’m stunned. How can a man who claims to not be good with words manage to say such profound things? He plans to spend a lifetime with me! I know he loves me, but hearing that he wants this to last forty years leaves me speechless.

I decide that words are highly over-rated and lean over and kiss him, a nice, deep, totally thorough kiss. The kind of kiss that always makes me feel a little dizzy when I manage to come up for air. I reach out pulling him into me, needing to be closer.

I stop immediately when the moan I hear is more pain  than passion. Damn. I forgot about his ribs. I move to pull back, but Hutch won’t let me. He rests his head on my shoulder, leaning most of his weight against me.

“God, I’m sorry. I forgot about your ribs.”

“S’okay, Starsk. Sort of forgot about them myself.”

I wait for him to ease away from me. He doesn’t look any worse than he did when he walked into the room. Still, I think it’s about time he laid down.

“Better?” I ask once I’m finished wrapping his ribs.

“Much.”

I help him put the robe back on. And gently help him into a chair.

“Eat.”

“Yes, mother.”

I ignore that. I watch Hutch work his way through the food I’d put in front of him. He finishes the sandwich, but only eats half the soup. He’s not really a picky eater per se. He just isn’t a big eater. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him eat a huge meal at one sitting. He eats lots of little meals through the day, which, at the office, usually consist of caffeine and granola bars. It’s no wonder he’s so skinny.

Hutch pushes the bowl away and yawns. I find myself yawning right along with him. He raises a hand to rub at his temple and I know his head must still hurt. I pull the prescription bottle from my pocket and offer it to him. The doctor assured me before we left that it was a painkiller that Hutch had used before with no nasty side effects. Recommended dosage is two, but I don’t comment when Hutch only takes one. Better safe than sorry.

I hand him the bottle of antibiotics that the doctor also prescribed. I make sure he takes the recommended dose. He doesn’t have any problems with those and I don’t want his stitches getting infected.

“Why don’t you go to bed?” I suggest when he yawns again.

“You gonna join me?”

I think he might be more comfortable sleeping alone. I’m about to tell him I’ll catch a nap in the guest room when he shakes his head at me. “I sleep better if you’re with me.”

“Okay.” Like I could say no to that. Man, am I easy or what? “Why don’t you go get comfortable and I’ll join you once I get stuff cleaned up here.”

“Come with me now. I know you’re tired. This,” Hutch waves a hand over the table, “can wait. It isn’t gonna go anywhere.”

I know I won’t win the argument, so I get up and follow him to the bedroom. Hutch shrugs out of the robe and hangs it in its usual spot behind the door. He sits down on the bed stiffly and lets out a tired sigh. I watch him lean back carefully and relax. Nothing like his usual graceful, easy movements.

I hesitate, still not entirely sure he wouldn’t be better off alone. Hutch must have seen my indecision because he smiles and pats the bed inviting me to join him. That makes up my mind for me.

I hate sleeping in my clothes. I always have, so I strip down to my jockeys. I can feel his eyes on me the entire time. No one has ever looked at me like he does. Oh, I’ve gotten appreciative and lusty looks more times than I can count, but his look never leaves me feeling like meat on a hook or makes me feel self-conscious. His is like a gentle caress. Never felt that with anyone else. Looking up, I can’t help smiling seductively at him. I get a leer in return.

Hutch yawns again and stretches as far as his abused body will allow. “Damn shame we finally get an afternoon off and we’re gonna spend it in bed sleeping.”

I slide in bed next to him and place a soft kiss on his mouth. “Least we’re together. Sure as hell beats the alternative.”

“True enough.”

I pull the comforter up to cover us both and wait for him to shift enough to get comfortable before settling in next to him. His ribs won’t let him sleep on his side so we can’t spoon together the way we normally do. When he sleeps on his back, I usually end up draped all over him like he was a human pillow. But his bruises make me reluctant to cuddle the way I would like to. I lay on my side facing him, close enough that we can share the same pillow. I’m half-afraid to touch him, but I need to be close.

His breathing evens out almost immediately. It never takes him long to fall asleep. When he’s up, he’s up, and when he’s out, he’s really out. More than once, I’ve marveled at how he can simply close his eyes and be out like a light. He can sleep damn near anywhere, at any time. It usually takes me awhile to relax enough to sleep. Today, though, I can feel myself falling nearly as fast as Hutch. I let out a contented sigh when he snuggles closer to me.

I take a deep breath and I’m rewarded with Hutch’s scent. I’m suddenly aware that it was missing last night. As was the comfortable sound of his breathing and the warm feel of his body lying next to mine. Evidently, Hutch isn’t the only one who sleeps better when we’re together. I can’t help but smile thinking we are security blankets for each other. It’s the last thought I have for quite a while.

I’m not entirely sure what time it is when I finally rejoin the land of the living. I open my eyes to see the sun’s still shining, but at an unfamiliar angle. I’m used to seeing morning sun streaming through the windows but never late afternoon rays. It’s hard to gauge just what time it is by the weird shadows being cast, so I give up and glance at the alarm clock.

Hmmm… 4:30. Four hours isn’t exactly a catnap, but I definitely feel better for having slept so long. I stretch a little, knowing I had to have been sleeping heavily from my body’s sluggish response and the heavy feel of my limbs. If I was sleeping that deeply, then why the hell am I awake now? I feel like I could simply close my eyes and go back to sleep, except that I can’t do that until I figure out why I woke up in the first place.

I glance at Hutch and with a start realize he’s the reason I woke. I had expected to find him sleeping peacefully next to me. And he is sleeping, but it’s anything but peaceful. His eyes are moving rapidly under tightly closed lids and his entire body is tense, almost rigid. His hands are clenched into fists so tight his knuckles are white. Hutch isn’t thrashing, but his body is trembling violently from the tension. It’s like he’s trying desperately to hold himself still. He whimpers once and he clenches his jaw like he’s trying to keep himself from screaming. Definitely a nasty nightmare of some kind.

I whisper his name trying not to startle him. I don’t want to shake him for fear it might do more damage. He’s going to be hurting when he wakes up anyway; all that tension can’t be good for his ribs. I don’t know exactly how long he’s been like this but he needs to wake up now.

“Hutch… easy, Babe. It’s just a dream. Come on, now. Wake up.”

I run my fingers through his hair hoping that soothing gesture will work its usual magic. “Come on, Blondie. It’s just a dream. Hutch, you need to wake up now.” I try to mimic the same tone he used on me earlier in the hospital. Hell, if it works for me maybe it will work for Hutch.

I’m startled when his eyes suddenly open and I am staring into those familiar blue depths. He stares at me for a moment and I have to catch my breath at the depth of fear and uncertainty I see in his eyes. I know it isn’t me that he’s seeing and I wait for him to come back from where ever he is.

Hutch blinks once and I’m suddenly breathing easier when I can tell he recognizes me. He takes a long shuddering breath and then goes limp so suddenly that for just a second, I’m afraid.

Hutch moans softly and tries to curl up, but his ribs won’t let him. Giving up, he rolls closer to me. I can feel the faint tremors running through him but nowhere near as extreme as before. His breathing is still ragged and I’m not sure, but he might be crying.

I pull him to me, rocking gently, running one hand up and down his back trying to soothe him. I can hear streams of meaningless words falling from my mouth.

“Shh… it’s all right. Everything’s all right. I’ve got you now. Shh… It’s okay. It was just a dream. Shhh… it’s all right. Just a dream. I’m here. You’re okay.”

Gradually the tremors ease and his breathing evens out. Once he’s calmed a little, he pulls away from me. Not far, just enough so that I can see his face. No tears, but his eyes are very bright with those he refused to let fall. I can’t quite read the expression on his face.

“You okay now?” I keep my voice soft, still trying to figure out how to approach this.

He takes a breath, then another. For a minute I’m not sure if he heard me or if he’s just ignoring the question. Finally, he gives me an unexpectedly candid answer. “Not really, but I will be.”

His voice is hoarse, not at all like his usual smooth tenor. I’m not surprised when I notice he’s keeping his arm close to his side supporting his ribs. Seeing him shiver, I pull the comforter up and tuck it around his shoulder.

“Wanna tell me about it?”

“If I say no, will you drop it?”

I consider it for a minute. I know he’d like me to. Hell, he isn’t the only one with dreams that make you wish you’d never gone to bed. But I honestly think he needs to talk about this and I have a gut feeling I may need to hear it. So, I give the answer he’s expecting, knowing he won’t like it. “No can do.”

He smiles a little wanly. “Figured as much.” He raises a hand and rubs it over his face. “It’s a long story.”

I smile softly and use the same line he used on me just a few weeks ago, “Well, it isn’t like I have a train to catch.”

The smile he gives me is only half-hearted, but it’s better than nothing. “Fair enough.”

I watch him carefully. I can almost see the wheels turning as he tries to figure out how best to approach this. I’d give my right arm to be able to somehow make this easier, but since I don’t even know what this is, there really isn’t much I can say. I’m not surprised when Hutch opts for a delaying tactic.

“Can I have something to drink first?”

“Sure, Babe. You gonna be okay here by yourself for a minute?”

He nods. As I get up, he grabs my hand and places a soft kiss on my palm. “Thanks,” he whispers when he lets go.

I cup his face for a minute and wait for him to raise his eyes to meet mine. “Anytime, partner. Anytime.” Hell, I’ve had my own nightmares a time or two. No one should have to face those alone.

I head to the bathroom, planning to just fill the glass he keeps there with water. But I change course when I remember seeing Hutch wince, the careful way he held himself, and just how tense he’d been. He needs more painkillers, so I head for the kitchen to retrieve them before heading back to the bedroom.

By the time I get back, Hutch has piled the pillows behind him and is relaxed against them.

He grimaces when I hand him the water. “I was hoping for something stronger than water.”

“Not with the meds.” I offer him the bottle and watch as he takes a full dose. He must be really hurting. In all the time I’ve known the man, he has never complained about being in pain. But his willingness to take the pills is a dead giveaway to how he feels.

Hutch drinks the entire glass and places it carefully on the nightstand. He gestures toward the bed. “Sit down. You might as well be comfortable for this.”

I sit down on the bed facing him and cross my legs in what my second-grade teacher called “Indian style.” I place my elbows on my knees and rest my chin on one fist. I’m giving him my complete and undivided attention.

He sighs quietly.

When he doesn’t say anything, I offer softly, “Was it about last night?”

“In a way. It was an older demon, but it was definitely related.” Hutch shifts position slightly and stares at his hands. “Suppose the best place to start would be the beginning.” He looks up quickly and then away. “You remember me telling you my father was an alcoholic?”

“Yeah, I remember.”

“Well, he wasn’t always a drunk.” Hutch sighed quietly. “Takes a while to get like that… It isn’t the sort of thing that happens overnight.” He looks at me again, his expression earnest.

“My father was a good man. Had to have been or I don’t think Mom would have married him. But, after my brother died, he really started drinking heavily. Dad took his death really hard. Guess he was looking for comfort in a bottle. Looking to forget or remember, maybe. Not really sure which.”

Hutch’s gaze shifts toward the window. “My father has a temper. Drunk or sober, didn’t ever seem to make much difference. When Mom was around, she could sort of… well, she sort of smoothed things over. Soothed the savage beast, you might say. He didn’t drink quite as much before the divorce and when he was sober; he wasn’t as likely to fly off the handle.”

I study Hutch’s face. He’s wearing a completely blank expression. He could be talking about the weather for all the emotion I hear in his voice. I can feel alarm bells going off. I don’t like where this is going, but I can’t stop it now that I’ve forced the issue.

“I was ten the first time he hit me. It wasn’t bad. Just a black eye and a split lip that time. But from then on it got to be a routine thing for him. Every time something upset him or went wrong, he’d take it out on me. I learned to walk soft around him but when he was drunk, anything could set him off. Found out pretty quick that my getting hit didn’t have a lot to do with me.”

Even though I was expecting something along these lines, I’m still shocked by these matter-of-fact statements. God damn bastard! No one should do that to a child.

“Did you tell anyone?” It takes everything I’ve got to force out that question and sound calm at the same time.

He smiles sadly and looks at me. “Once. Friend of Dad’s came by the house. He noticed the bruises. Asked me what happened. And I was stupid enough to tell him the truth. Told him Daddy hit me.”

“And?”

Hutch sighs. “My father told him I was just making up stories. Said I got into a fight at school and wasn’t man enough to admit I’d lost. Said I was looking for sympathy and figured I’d get it if people thought it was my old man who’d hit me.”

“And this man believed that?”

Hutch looks at me. It’s the same expression he has whenever I say something he thinks is less than intelligent. He continues in that same casual, matter-of-fact tone. “People believe what they want to and, to some, an adult’s word is worth more than that of a child’s. Besides, Dad was his friend. It was easier to think I was lying than to think his friend was smacking around a kid.”

“So what happened?”

“When he left, Dad took off his belt. I couldn’t sit down or sleep on my back for the better part of a week after that.”

I can’t help but shudder when I hear that. I have to close my eyes to keep from showing the murderous rage I know has to be glowing in them. I feel a gentle touch at my knee and I look up.

Seeing that he has my attention, Hutch says softly, “It happened a long time ago, Starsk. Nothing can be done about it now.”

Not trusting myself to speak at that moment, I nod. I don’t agree with his assessment, but I understand. If I ever meet his father, I have more than a few things to say to him about what kind of a no-good coward and bully I think he is to beat a helpless child. But I have to put that out of my mind for now. Hutch needs me to remain calm.

“Didn’t anyone else ever ask? Did you ever try to tell anyone else?” I’m amazed that my voice comes out sounding more or less normal.

Hutch shrugs a shoulder and shakes his head. “I learned my lesson after the first time, so I kept my mouth shut, or I told people I walked into doors, that I fell, that I was just clumsy. I already knew what would happen if I said the wrong thing.” Hutch shudders once. “I didn’t really want to repeat that experience. And I didn’t really have to say much very often. Damn few people ever notice or asked.”

Jesus. What the hell am I supposed to say to that? I close my eyes again and try to control the rage, sorrow, and disbelief I feel. How in the hell could someone not notice? Who in their right mind would believe that my incredibly agile and graceful partner was clumsy enough to repeatedly walk into doors? Did no one care enough about the wellbeing of a child to notice he was hurting?

“What about your mother? Surely, she would have noticed something, or your grandparents. You said they practically raised you.” I’m very careful not let any note of accusation enter my voice. If he thought I was criticizing his family, especially his grandparents in any way, this conversation would be over.

“After the divorce, Mom never came around. She later remarried and moved back east. I haven’t seen or heard from her since. I made sure my grandparents didn’t know anything about it. I know they would have believed me if I told them the truth but I was afraid Dad might get mad at them or he wouldn’t let me visit them anymore and that was the only haven I had.”

Hutch’s expression is earnest, his eyes begging me to understand. “I couldn’t let him hurt them, too. And he would have if they had tried to interfere.”

That’s the only thing about this I do understand. I know Hutch would have walked through fire for his grandparents. I know firsthand just how protective he can be of those he loves. I also now understand why he downplays every ache and pain. It’s a habit ingrained since he was little as a defense mechanism.

“What about going to the hospital?” I ask suddenly, remembering the doctor having mentioned she’d thought Hutch had broken his ribs more than once.

Hutch shrugs again. “Most often than not, I didn’t go. It usually wasn’t anything more serious than bruises. He broke bones a couple of times and he had to take me. I needed stitches once. I found out about the problem with painkillers when I was twelve. It didn’t matter though because he never had the prescriptions filled anyway.”

I swallow hard, trying to control my reaction to that little bit of information. Not only did his father beat him, the man selfishly refused to supply him with medicine. I don’t just want to tell the man what I think of him anymore; I want to kill him. Slowly. Very slowly. But then I mentally shake myself. That wouldn’t make me any better than he was.

Hutch is looking out the window again. “Mostly I learned to avoid my father. I spent as much time as possible with my grandparents when I didn’t have any really obvious bruises that they’d be able to see. Or I’d go to Tommy’s house. His parents never seemed to mind. I think they probably had a good idea about what was going on and they were doing their best to help anyway they could by giving me a safe place to stay when I needed it. When I couldn’t get away… well, I slept in the garage a time or two just to be sure I could stay away from him.”

No wonder he was so willing to defend Tommy when he’d come to town with a mob hit man on his tail. I knew they were friends, but I never knew that Tommy’s family had been a place of refuge. The history between them was deeper than I’d thought. Even though I still think Tommy was an ass, I suddenly wish I’d been nicer to the man when I’d met him. And finding out that Hutch had slept in the garage just cleared up how it was that he could sleep anywhere. He’d had practice and apparently lots of it.

“How long did this go on?”

“I was sixteen when he finally kicked me out of the house for good.”

I nod. “I remember you telling me that.”

“Yeah, well, there’s more to it than that. That part is sort of what the dream was about.”

Okay, deep breath here. I started this; I need to let him finish it. Reaching out, I take his hand, entwining his fingers with mine, offering physical support as well as emotional. “Tell me the rest.”

Hutch sadly smiles at me. “I’m not really sure what happened. I guess I got tired of being his punching bag. I started standing my ground. It got so I could damn near give as good as I got.”

Yes! Now that’s the Hutch I know. He just doesn’t have it in him to let anyone or anything keep him down long.

“I think what pissed him off the most was that I stood up to him. And I think it scared him a little to realize that someday he wasn’t gonna be able to just beat me like he had been. Anyway, it sort of all came to a head one day when he started yelling at a neighbor kid. Boy was about the same age I was when the old man hit me for the first time. I decided he wasn’t gonna do to this kid what he’d done to me. So, I stood up for the kid and took on my father.”

Hutch’s expression turns rueful as he makes eye contact. “I held my own for a while, but not long enough.” He sighs quietly. “When it was all said and done, he broke three ribs, gave me a concussion, fractured my right cheekbone, and dislocated my shoulder. If the kid hadn’t called the cops, my old man would probably have beaten me to death.”

I tighten my grip on his hand when he says that. He could have died before I even met him! It’s stupid to think that. I know that could have happened any time. The man has been a cop for years, which is not exactly the safest of professions. Hell, he could have just as easily been killed in an accident, like getting hit by a bus or rolling his car.

I guess what hit me so hard was that it wasn’t an accident, it was deliberate, and it wasn’t some criminal, it was his father. I wasn’t expecting the emotional tidal wave that went with hearing that. It takes me a minute to get myself back under control.

“So the cops showed up?” I ask once I can get my voice to work, trying to sound natural. It’s a damn site harder than I expected it would be.

“Yeah. Pulled him off me and called the ambulance. I spent three days in the hospital.”

I wince hearing that. Maybe it was even worse than Hutch let on. I can’t imagine Hutch willingly spending three days in the hospital. Some of my disquiet must have shown on my face, because Hutch is quick to assure me that he wasn’t there because of anything serious. Serious being something of a relative concept when it comes to my partner.

“Cops put my old man in a cell to dry out. As a minor, with no one at home to look after me, they decided the best place for me to stay was at the hospital. At least until Tommy’s folks spoke up and said I could stay with them.”

If they had let his father rot in a cell, I would have been a happy man, but I know they didn’t. Question is why? “Why didn’t he stay in jail?”

Hutch smiles slightly but without humor. “He managed to plea bargain the charge down to endangering a minor with the condition that he wasn’t to talk to me or see me. It wasn’t too hard for him to agree to that. He spent nine months in jail.”

Hutch shrugs slightly. “The way I saw it, I came out ahead. He couldn’t see me anymore or be anywhere near me and I didn’t have to worry that he might do something to my grandparents. It was a win, win all the way around.”

I’m not sure I agree with that. The vindictive part of me firmly believes that Hutch’s father got off far too easily. Still, I have to admit having him stay away from Hutch was better than letting him get hurt anymore. Except that I know the man calls. First time I’d heard anything about his father was on Hutch’s birthday.

“You told me he calls on your birthday?”

“Deal he made only lasted until I was legally an adult. Still, having to talk to the man once a year isn’t really a big deal. I haven’t actually laid eyes on him in over a decade. Last time I saw him was when he came to my graduation from college.”

“You haven’t seen him at all since then?”

Hutch shakes his head no. This is a good thing. Means the man isn’t likely to try and see him anytime soon. Which means I should be able to avoid committing murder for a while longer yet.

“You heard enough of this so that we can move on to other things?” Hutch asks quietly. His voice has a strained quality to it and I think he might have just reached his limit. Taking a good look at him, I realize I’m not the only one who was riding an emotional roller coaster. It’s definitely time for both of us to get off this ride.

“Sure. Anything in particular you have in mind?”

Hutch leans forward to kiss me softly. He sighs deeply when he pulls away. “What I’d really like to do is make love to you all night long.” Hutch winces when he leans back to rest against the pillows. “Unfortunately, I think this is a classic example of the spirit being willing but the flesh just isn’t up to the job.”

Hutch pauses before making eye contact. I can see the hesitancy in his eyes. It’s obvious that he isn’t sure of how I’ll react to what he has to say. I wait for him to go on, trying to let him know that whatever it is will be okay.

He takes a breath and continues. “So if it’s all right with you… I’d just like for us to be together. To pretend that we are a normal couple, with normal everyday problems. I’d like to forget last night, my father, scaring you, and being scared, the whole next of kin thing, your family… all of it. Just for a while. We can deal with everything else tomorrow or the day after. I promise. Right now though, I just want to do nothing… or anything you want that doesn’t involve any of the stuff I already mentioned,” Hutch amends with a slight smile. “We can talk about nothing more important than the weather or last week’s football game or what we’re having for dinner. I just need to get my balance back… catch my breath, so to speak. I think you might need that too. Okay?”

I smile. He’s right. I need to center myself and spending time with Hutch has always been a great way to do that. We both need to get off this ride for a while. We can pretend to be normal or whatever it is that usually pass for normal for us. Dobey gave us a few days. No reason not to put them to good use.

“Okay,” I agree softly. “I can do that.”

I move so I can sit next to him and lean back on the pillows. He shifts just enough to rest his head against my shoulder. It’s nice to be able to relax next to him, to just be for a while. I entwine our fingers together and lose myself in the rhythmic stroke of his thumb across my palm.

We sit together like that for some time, just enjoying being near each other and watching the shadows play on the wall. The expression “companionable silence” comes to mind and I finally understand what that means. The silence isn’t broken until Hutch’s stomach growls half an hour later.

“So what do you want for dinner?”

“How about Italian? Angel hair pasta with clam sauce, maybe?”

“You mean that stuff with the little noodles you made the last time? Sorry. I don’t think I can manage that. How about a steak, baked potato, and a salad?”

“Sounds good, too.”

We get dressed and head for the kitchen. Hutch volunteers to take care of the lunch dishes while I make dinner. The conversation is light and stays on safe topics: weather, football, finer points of cooking, and other lightweight topics that typically make up small talk. I don’t honestly think either of us could manage anything of more substance right at that moment.

Dinner is eaten and we watch TV for a while before going back to bed. This being normal stuff is kind of nice. It makes me feel like we are the same as any other couple. I honestly regret that it can’t stay that way. Still an evening or a few days of “let’s pretend” is better than nothing.

Once we’re back on an even keel, we can deal with the complications that make up our lives. Hutch said he knew a lawyer who can handle the next of kin paper work. And his father… well, hopefully that’s a demon we won’t have to face again any time soon.

Lying in bed with Hutch, listening to him breathe, feeling his warm breath as he snuggles in next to me, I’m not really in the mood to plan a homicide, but if that son-of-a-bitch crosses my path, I’m sure I can work up the necessary rage to deal with him. And my family… well, they shouldn’t be a problem since most of them are in Brooklyn and I’m in Bay City. For the first time in years, I’m grateful for that.

Hutch’s injuries should heal in a few weeks with no permanent damage. Thank you, God.

I sigh softly. Mindful of his ribs, I tuck him in closer to me, and let myself relax. A good night’s sleep and we can both face a new day.

 

Chapter 5

Morning was Hutch’s favorite time of day and he intended to enjoy every minute of it. He knew he was a genuine rarity, almost an endangered species, an honest-to-God morning person. Hutch woke up ready to take on the day, so it wasn’t a hardship for him to get up before the sun. Truth was, he enjoyed watching the sunrise, feeling the world slowly come back to life.

He liked the quiet moments; no phones, no radio, no loud voices, no guns, nothing but the natural sounds of the beginning of another day. And since he was usually alone, it gave him a chance to enjoy the solitude. He needed this quiet time alone the way most people needed air. It gave him a chance to think about the previous day and to brace himself for the new one.

He would describe it as centering himself. These quiet times had always felt good. Since he bought the beach house, he liked to greet the rising sun over a cup of coffee while relaxing on his back porch. He’d already taken his morning run so he was free to enjoy the start of another day.

Hutch cocked his head listening for sounds that Starsky might be stirring. He chuckled when he didn’t hear anything.

Starsky is definitely not a morning person. You want someone to stay up to see the sunrise, then he’s your man. But the idea of getting up to greet the day just isn’t his idea of a good time.

Hutch shrugged, to each his own. Hutch closed his eyes and breathed deeply. It felt good to be able to do that again. It had been four weeks since he’d been attacked in the alley behind Huggy’s. His ribs had healed well. They still sent faint reminders that they were less than a hundred percent whenever he moved the wrong way or too quickly, but even those were fading. All the bruises had vanished in two weeks, after they had run the usual rainbow gamut from black and blue to yellow and green. The cut above his right eye had healed without any significant scarring. Hutch raised a hand absently to run his fingers over the faint line he could feel, but knew wasn’t readily visible.

Good thing, too. I couldn’t handle Starsky getting upset every time he looked at it the way he does with the one on my arm.

The cut he had gotten that night needed thirty stitches to close and had left a noticeable scar that ran the length of his left forearm. It was the only visible evidence left from that night. It didn’t bother Hutch. Hell, he had lots of scars. But whenever Starsky noticed it, he would hesitate for just a moment, sort of freeze in place, and Hutch knew what he was thinking when that happened. His eyes would glaze over and, for just a moment, Starsky would look utterly lost.

It never lasted long, a couple of seconds at most. Starsky would take a breath, shudder almost imperceptibly, and then immediately focus on whatever they had been doing before he noticed the scar

Hutch sighed. He’s just fixated on the idea that I could have died.

Hutch shook his head and took another deep breath. He just hoped that the effect it had on Starsky would lessen with time. It would be a real pain in the ass not to be able to ever roll up my sleeves again.

Hutch sipped his coffee. The sunrise was unremarkable. The sky was clear and the brightness of the sun promised a day that would probably be slightly hotter than hell. It was a good day not to have to go to the office. Especially since both he and Starsky had basically been desk bound for the past month.

Captain Dobey wouldn’t let Hutch out in the field until he had the all clear from a doctor and Starsky wouldn’t go anywhere without his partner. Having Starsky hover over him like a mother hen and doing nothing but paperwork had made for the longest month of Hutch’s life.

Hutch stood and stretched carefully. In another week, he’d get the all clear from the doctor and hopefully things would return to normal. As it was, he intended to make the most of this brief reprieve and enjoy the unexpected bonus of a three-day weekend.

Hutch grinned. Best way to get the ball rolling is to wake Starsky.

With a light, soundless step, Hutch quickly made his way to the bedroom, stopping just long enough to leave his empty coffee cup on the kitchen counter. He paused just inside the bedroom door to take in the view. Starsky’s dark hair was mussed from sleep. It was really rather endearing, Hutch thought. Sometime after he’d left, Starsky had kicked the comforter more or less off the bed. Hutch let his eyes roam freely over Starsky’s naked form.

Man hates sleeping in clothes. Gotta admit it’s a habit of his that I really enjoy. And he’s got no reason to hide anything.

Starsky had worked out regularly since the shooting. The exercise had kept his body in great shape and had given him a sculpted form most artists would love to see modeled. He wasn’t over developed the way body builders tend to be, just simply well defined. Hutch loved to watch the play of muscles when Starsky moved. And being able to touch was just icing on the cake.

Hutch smiled, watching Starsky curl up tighter around his pillow. Starsky was a cuddler by nature and Hutch always woke to find his lover snuggled in as close as he could get. Extricating himself from Starsky in the morning usually took a good ten minutes. Once he left the bed, Starsky would immediately pull Hutch’s pillow in and wrap himself around it. Hutch wasn’t entirely sure if the pillow was supposed to be a substitute for him or if Starsky just couldn’t sleep without clutching something.

Hutch quietly and quickly removed the jeans and sweatshirt he’d put on earlier. He made his way carefully to the foot of the bed. Starsky was a light sleeper and Hutch didn’t want to wake him just yet, soon, but not just yet. He wanted to make sure Starsky woke up in the right frame of mind.

He eased himself down on to the bed and carefully made his way up to Starsky. With a smile, Hutch began to touch. He started with a gentle caress over one well-muscled calf, massaging a bit on the thigh, ghosting over the beautifully contoured hemispheres of Starsky’s ass. Hutch’s smile grew when he heard Starsky sigh softly and begin to uncurl. He moved to place a kiss on a knee and then nibbled the hollow of his hip. He nuzzled the distinct muscles of Starsky’s abdomen. Hutch breathed faintly across Starsky’s chest watching his nipples tighten as he did it. He ran his tongue over the knuckles of Starsky’s right hand and began to nibble, lick, and kiss his way up Starsky’s right arm.

As Starsky stretched out and rolled from his side to his back, Hutch carefully removed the pillow from his now lax grasp. He worked his way across Starsky’s collarbone, pausing to suck gently at the hollow where neck met shoulder. He eased himself so he was laying full length on Starsky and continued to work his way up Starsky’s neck. He stopped to lavish special attention on the spot below Starsky’s ear that always seemed to make him weak in the knees.

Hutch raised his head to look into Starsky’s eyes. The pupils had dilated so much, his blue eyes looked black. Hutch grinned seeing that look. Not quite awake, but getting there.

“Mornin’, David,” Hutch said softly.

“Mornin’ yourself, Blondie.” Starsky’s voice was still a little rough from sleep and, Hutch thought, a little from arousal. He knew it was more arousal than sleep when Starsky proceeded to kiss him passionately and thoroughly. Their tongues engaged in a lazy duel for several minutes.

Now that Starsky was more or less wake, Hutch began a more thorough exploration, letting his hands roam over his lover at will. He rocked his hips, encouraging his partner to a similar action. Hutch moaned, enjoying the friction being generated. It felt so good to be able to touch and be touched.

Because of his ribs, Starsky had been reluctant to engage in their usual sex activities. Up until now, Hutch had been willing to let Starsky have his way. He knew Starsky needed to be sure of his improving health and general physical condition and Hutch knew better than to push. Well, in all honesty most of the time he didn’t, but in this case, he found discretion to be the better part of valor.

He figured he’d been patient long enough. He wasn’t some China doll that would break if you held it too tightly. The best way to convince Starsky would be to show him. And if he didn’t give Starsky enough time to think or wake up completely, he might just get away with it.

With the focused determination of a man with a mission, Hutch carefully hit each and every erogenous zone he’d ever located on Starsky. His right hand caressed the spot just above Starsky’s hip, while his left hand ghosted over his chest, applying feather light touches, teasing and arousing as it went. Hutch broke the kiss to return to that spot just below Starsky’s ear. He couldn’t help but smile when his lover began to writhe under him.

Hutch slid down Starsky’s body. Before Starsky could protest, Hutch took his engorged penis in his mouth, all the way to the base, in one quick movement. He played with Starsky’s balls with one hand, while using his other arm to hold his weight on his lover’s hips, preventing the thrust Starsky would have attempted otherwise. A few more, deep swallows, a little suck and swirl of the tongue, and he was rewarded with a symphony of tiny cries and moans. On the next dive, Hutch hummed slightly, letting the vibration add to the intensity.

Hutch raised his head to lavish attention on the tip and run his tongue over the glands. He let one hand dip to stroke Starsky’s puckered hole, while the other wandered freely about his chest. He could feel his lover’s body trembling under the onslaught of his hands, mouth, and tongue. It was a heady feeling to know he had the power to render his usually verbal partner incapable of speech.

Hutch nibbled at the leaking head in front of him. He sank his teeth in just enough to make Starsky gasp in surprise, but not enough to cause real pain. He didn’t want Starsky coming just yet and, using his teeth, he took the edge off slightly. He carefully worked his way around the shaft, nibbling and licking down and then up.

Hutch changed his focus to Starsky’s abdomen, placing kisses randomly. He found Starsky’s belly button, letting his tongue and teeth caress that sensitive area. After a few moments, Hutch moved up to lave one nipple and then the other, while letting his hand continue a slow stroke on Starsky’s penis. It was enough to keep him aroused, but not enough to finish him off.

Hutch briefly lost sight of his objective when Starsky’s hands began roaming over him and finally settled on his chest, caressing his erect nipples. He moaned softly in response to that contact. Hutch arched into that touch, wordlessly encouraging more.

Starsky pulled his head up and placed a soul-searing kiss on his lips. Hutch maintained enough presence of mind to reach for the lube in the drawer of the nightstand. While their tongues dueled for the second time that morning, Hutch managed to coat his fingers. Doing long division in his head helped him maintain some control when he inserted first one, then two, and finally three fingers into himself.

God… God… that feels so good. Been so long.

Hutch swung a leg over Starsky so he straddled his lover. Without hesitation Hutch rocked back, letting Starsky’s already slick cock slide home. He grunted once, realizing immediately that a little more preparation might have been needed. Still, it was merely uncomfortable for a moment, not outright painful.

Hutch leaned back to better control the angle. He rocked slightly, encouraging Starsky to thrust harder and faster. Being in this position always reminded him of riding. Definitely more fun than any horse I ever rode, Hutch thought absently, before being distracted by the head of Starsky’s cock striking his prostate.

Starsky reached up to tweak his nipples and Hutch lost whatever coherent thought he might have been able to lay claim to. He felt as if the whole world were condensing to one point. Starsky dropped a hand to stroke Hutch’s penis, matching speed and rhythm. The sensation was just too much. Hutch threw his head back and came, breathing out Starsky’s name. He felt Starsky’s orgasm hit at almost the same moment.

Totally spent, feeling sated and completely boneless, Hutch collapsed onto Starsky’s chest. He rested his head on Starsky’s shoulder, trying to catch his breath, feeling the now flaccid cock slip out.

Wow. Now that is the best way to spend the morning. He grinned and wondered if he could convince Starsky they should do this every morning.

He felt Starsky’s hands running in a soothing caress up and down his spine and couldn’t help but sigh in satisfaction. He knew it would come out sounding like a cat purring, but right at the moment, Hutch felt too good to care. He had missed this. And he knew Starsky had, too. Hutch lay quietly, listening to Starsky’s slowing heartbeat and waiting for his own to return to normal.

“Hutch?”

That sounded a little too hesitant. Not at all like his partner normally sounded. Hutch tried to muster enough energy to give a coherent response.

“Hmmm?”

“You okay?”

“Okay?” Stupid question. I’m great. Hell, I feel like I could leap tall buildings in a single bound. Not having the energy to say all that Hutch settled for, “I am so much better than okay.”

Hutch raised his head from Starsky’s shoulder. He smiled into those much loved blue eyes, and kissed him gently.

“Your ribs?” Starsky asked as soon as he broke the kiss.

“They’re fine. It’s been a month, David. Relax.”

“You’re sure?”

“I’m sure.”

Hutch watched as Starsky searched his face. He knew his lover was looking for any indication that he might have been less than honest. Hutch felt Starsky relax when he found none. With a contented sigh, he pulled Hutch’s head back down to his shoulder and held him close. Starsky began gently running fingers through his hair. Hutch’s eyes drifted shut, enjoying Starsky’s soothing caress.

“You planning on waking me up like that every morning?”

Hutch chuckled, hearing the mixture of satisfaction and hope in Starsky’s voice.

“Maybe. Gotta admit it beats the alarm clock.”

“True. Very true.” Starsky shifted slightly, pulling Hutch in even closer. “But this doesn’t really make me want to get out of bed.”

Hutch shrugged. “Well, there is that. Guess doing this every morning might not be a good idea if we want to make it to work on time.”

“Also true, unfortunately. Speaking of time… what time is it?”

Hutch half opened his eyes to glance at the clock. “Almost eight.”

Starsky yawned widely and stretched, careful not to dislodge Hutch from his perch on his chest.

“How long have you been up?”

“Since five-thirty.”

Even though he couldn’t see Starsky’s face, Hutch knew he was frowning. For over a week after the attack, Hutch had been unable to get a full night’s sleep. Recurring nightmares had made it impossible to get more than a few hours of sleep at a time. Most of the time he managed to keep from waking Starsky, but his ever-observant partner was fully aware that he wasn’t getting enough rest.

The nightmares had finally faded, but then the workload had gotten heavy. Despite being basically desk bound, both of them had put in some long hours. Cases going to trial, meetings with attorneys, days in court, and being trapped in the office meant they got to answer phones and work extra shifts for detectives handling active cases that kept them from putting in an appearance at Parker Center. They had taken to spending most nights at Starsky’s apartment simply because it was closer to the station. They hadn’t managed to escape much before midnight and they were back by nine every morning.

Hoping to halt whatever lecture Starsky planned to give, Hutch raised his head and placed his fingers lightly against Starsky’s lips. “I told you before… I get up the same time every day. It’s just habit. Besides, I have all weekend to catch up on my sleep.”

Starsky reached up to pull his hand away, placing a soft kiss on Hutch’s palm before releasing it. “Promise?”

“Promise.”

Starsky nodded. “Good.”

Hutch closed his eyes again and lay back down on Starsky’s shoulder. He was tired. They didn’t have to be anywhere until later, so there was no reason he couldn’t make good on his promise now. Except for that fact that if I don’t move soon, I won’t be able to move at all. Hutch grinned. The two of us are gonna end up stuck together.

With a sigh, Hutch sat up. Seeing Starsky’s look, he waved a hand to indicate both of them. “Want to take a shower with me?” He leered at Starsky, letting him know he wanted more than to just shower. He knew Starsky really loved the water and sex in the shower seemed to be as natural for him as breathing. Might as well go for broke. See if I can’t convince him that I’m okay. An encore would go a long way to doing just that.

He got a grin in response. You’d think I just told him Christmas came early.

“Sure, Blondie. A shower would be great.”

* * * *

It was over an hour later when Starsky wandered into the kitchen to make breakfast. They had come to an agreement that whenever time allowed, Starsky would make breakfast and Hutch would make dinner. While not the cook Hutch was, Starsky could handle breakfast. His flapjacks and waffles were always outstanding. His French toast and omelets were pretty damn good, too. Hutch usually made the bed and basically straightened up the bedroom while Starsky made breakfast. Starsky knew that Hutch secretly found it amusing that he never bothered with breakfast before he and Hutch had gotten together as lovers. He’d always just grabbed a donut or sweet role on the run.

Starsky sipped his second cup of coffee. He loved it strong, but he knew Hutch didn’t, so he placed a glass of orange juice on the table for him instead. Turning back to the counter, Starsky finished making the French toast. He also fried several strips of bacon for himself. His health-conscious lover wouldn’t touch it, but Starsky loved bacon.

Hutch’s arms snaked around and encircled his waist, pulling Starsky back into his chest and a loose hug. “You know, that stuff is going to clog your arteries,” Hutch stated conversationally while he nuzzled briefly at Starsky’s neck.

Starsky nodded. “So you keep tellin’ me.”

“Then why don’t you stop eating it?”

It was an old argument. “‘Cause I like it, that’s why. Now go sit down.”

Hutch chuckled then tightened his arms briefly before relinquishing his partner. He watched admiringly as Starsky set the plates on the table and sat down across from Hutch.

The light blue color of Starsky’s shirt set off his olive coloring, making Hutch’s fingers itch to touch his skin. The shirt hugged his chest, highlighting each curve and contour and accentuated his slim waist. His ever-present pendant seemed bright against Starsky’s skin. He looks good enough to eat. Hutch shook his head. I feel like some kind of junkie. Just had a fix and all I can think about is getting the next one. Hutch blushed when Starsky looked at him and raised an eyebrow. He’d been caught staring.

“You look nice.”

“So do you.”

Hutch looked down at himself and then back up. Starsky knew he didn’t consider what he was wearing to be anything special, just the opposite in fact in his jeans and dark blue T-shirt. When he dressed to impress, Hutch was stunning, but Starsky had come to think of his casual dress as something special.

Starsky studied Hutch for a moment and then smiled slowly, seductively. “Never knew you were the insatiable type, Blondie.”

“I wasn’t until I tasted you. Could spend a lifetime and it wouldn’t be enough.”

Now it was Starsky’s turn to blush. He cleared his throat and not so subtly changed the subject. “What time do we have to be at the lawyer’s today?”

“I told him we’d be in around noon. I didn’t expect to have the day off when I set up the appointment. I thought we’d have to sneak out during our lunch break to take care of this.”

“How long do you think it will take?”

Hutch shrugged. “Shouldn’t be much more than half an hour. All we got left to do is sign on the dotted line. ”

Once this last bit of paperwork was taken care of, they would legally be next of kin. Each of them would also have limited power of attorney should either one be incapacitated in anyway. They had already updated all the forms at the office related to whom to contact in case of an emergency. Both Starsky and Hutch had spoken to their regular doctors and the hospital admitting staff about making sure their documentation reflected their listing as next of kin.

Hutch had talked to Dobey. He hadn’t told him that that they were lovers. He would have to split them up if he knew and neither he nor Starsky wanted that to happen. So, he’d only told him that they both wanted to be listed as next of kin for the other. He already knew that Hutch had listed his partner. But Starsky’s request surprised him. He’d asked why Starsky felt the need to do the same. Hutch told him Starsky thought that with the bulk of his family so far away, it might be best to have someone in the immediate area with the authority to okay anything the doctors wanted to do. That explanation made sense and it wasn’t actually a lie, it just wasn’t the whole truth.

“You have any plans for this afternoon?” Hutch asked quietly.

“Nope. You got somethin’ in mind?” Starsky was curious.

Hutch sighed and shifted slightly in his seat. “I know it’s not the sort of thing you’re usually into, but I was thinking that… well, I noticed the other day that the art museum was having a special showing of Impressionist art and I thought… if you didn’t have anything else planned… you might want to go with me.”

“Impressionist?”

Hutch immediately began to back pedal. “You don’t have to. I could go alone—”

“I’d love to go.” Starsky managed not to laugh at the outright disbelief on Hutch’s face. “So long as you don’t expect me to know anything about whatever we’re looking at. I know enough about art to fill a thimble.”

“Best way to learn is to go see it.”

“Have to take your word for that. I gotta dress up for this?” Starsky hated having to wear a suit. His standard attire of Adidas, jeans, and button-down shirt were acceptable almost anywhere in Bay City, but he wasn’t sure it would fly in a more uptown setting like a museum.

Hutch smiled. “Not unless you want to.”

“Good.” Starsky paused for a minute. “It matter if I don’t like everything they got hangin’ on the walls?” Starsky didn’t want his ignorance or lack of appreciation to ruin Hutch’s time in the museum. It was obviously something he enjoyed and was probably important to him. But he didn’t want to have to lie either and pretend to like something he didn’t.

Hutch laughed. “Hell, Starsky, even I don’t like all of it. You don’t have to like all of it, just give it a chance and see if there isn’t something you do like.”

“I can do that. What time does this exhibit thing open?”

“Not until one. Shouldn’t be too busy today. I had thought about trying to see it tomorrow, but the weekends usually get crowded in a hurry.”

Starsky filed away the fact that Hutch already knew about the crowds. He hoped Hutch hadn’t gone alone every time. It didn’t seem right. Starsky was much more of a social person than his partner. Hutch enjoyed spending time alone. He tolerated crowds when he had to, but he didn’t seek them out and had been known to avoid them whenever possible. Still, he hoped that Hutch had been able to share his interests with someone.

“Okay. So, we can hit the museum after meeting with the lawyer. You want to eat lunch while we’re in town?”

Hutch shook his head and smirked. Only his partner would be thinking about lunch when they hadn’t even finished breakfast yet. “Why don’t you finish what you have in front of you? We can worry about lunch when the time comes.”

Starsky dropped his head and looked a bit sheepish. “Okay. So, I got ahead of myself.”

Hutch grinned, looking at Starsky’s nearly empty plate. “Not too far.”

* * * *

It didn’t take long to finish off breakfast. Hutch cleaned up the kitchen while Starsky threw a load of laundry into the washing machine. Once the kitchen was again immaculate, Hutch headed over to the desk to sort through the pile of mail that had accumulated in the last two weeks.

Junk, junk, bills, bills, and more junk. Why is it that ninety-five percent of the stuff I get is shit I don’t want or need? Hutch sighed, threw away the junk, and started paying the bills. He usually tried to stay ahead on his bills, never knowing when the job might make it impossible to get to them. Hutch hated owing anyone. His philosophy normally followed along the lines that if he couldn’t pay cash for it, then he didn’t need it.

He knew that in the past his partner had a much different view of debt. Starsky’s credit card bills must have eaten half his salary, not to mention paying for the Torino. Over the past two years and especially over the months that they had been a couple, Starsky had curtailed his own spending habits. Hutch hoped it was because Starsky had finally realized that he didn’t need all that stuff and not because he thought Hutch would object to how he spent his money. In all honesty, Hutch didn’t care what Starsky did or didn’t do with his money.

The only time money had ever been an issue between them was the one time Starsky had lied to him about it. Nearly a year after they started working together, Starsky had asked him for money. Starsky had wanted the money for some crack pot investment, but told Hutch he needed it to pay for a sick relative to have surgery. Hutch had almost quit working with Starsky when he found out.

It wasn’t the money that bothered him. It was the fact that his partner had lied to him in order to get it. Money wasn’t important to Hutch and it never had been. The trust he had in his partner most definitely was. Once he managed to explain to Starsky what had pissed him off was the lie and not the money, they were able to continue working together.

From that point on, Starsky had made a concerted effort to be more financially responsible. Hutch wasn’t sure, but he suspected that Starsky had only stopped living beyond his means since he’d been shot. He’s probably trying to pay off the bills he got behind on while on disability pay.

He looked up and smiled at Starsky when his lover patted his shoulder as he moved past him heading for the hall closet. Starsky pulled the vacuum out and ran it around the living room. Watching him, Hutch felt his smile widen. Never would have thought we’d end up being so domestic.

Hutch could still remember when he and Vanessa had split the chores around the house. Not that he compared Starsky to Vanessa in any way, shape, or form. It was just nice to have someone to share things with again. Even if what they were doing was as mundane as washing dishes and doing the laundry.

It also helped to establish a natural, relaxed background to their interactions. Most of the time, the things they argued about were work related. Home, be it the beach house or Starsky’s apartment, had become a relatively stress-free environment. It made for a nice respite from their hectic, sometimes violent, and frequently dangerous work environment.

With all the general house work taken care of, Starsky wandered back to the bedroom to put on a better pair of jeans and a clean shirt. The old pair of jeans he had on were like a second skin and he loved the way they fit, but they were so worn and faded they really weren’t acceptable to wear in public. He smiled to himself thinking his mother would have a fit if she knew he wore these anywhere but home.

When he finished changing, Starsky slipped on his good shoes. With a habit so ingrained he didn’t even think about it anymore, he had also secured a small gun to his right ankle. It didn’t have the range or power of his larger weapon, but up close it was just as deadly.

Since the incident with Special Agent Corbin at the seminar, neither he nor Hutch ever went anywhere without a weapon. If he wore his shoulder rig, he’d have to have a jacket to hide the gun, because the public as a rule tended to get nervous around people who were armed. Judging by the recent hot, dry spell they’d been having, today was likely to be slightly hotter than hell and the idea of wearing more clothes was not real attractive.

As Starsky made his way back to the living room he called out to his partner. “Hutch?”

“Yeah?”

“You gonna wear a jacket today?” Catching sight of Hutch’s raised eyebrows, Starsky explained, “Only reason I ask is ’cause it’s likely to be another scorcher. Know how you ain’t real keen on the heat and wearing a jacket is only gonna make it worse.”

Hutch nodded his understanding and then frowned. Starsky could almost see him thinking… no jacket equals no gun. Starsky mentally counted off the seconds, waiting to hear what he already knew Hutch was going to say.

“I’m not going anywhere without a gun, Starsky.” Hutch’s voice had that flat, hard quality he got when he wasn’t going to change his mind. Starsky knew that tone well and he hadn’t missed the use of his surname either.

“I’m not saying you should,” Starsky said softly and raised his hands in a placating gesture. “I’ve got another ankle holster and gun if you wanna use it. Know it isn’t the same as wearing your own gun, but it would be a damn site more comfortable.”

He watched Hutch consider the offer. After a moment, he shook his head. “I feel better with my own. Thanks for the offer though.”

“No problem. Was just a thought.”

Hutch shrugged into his shoulder harness and checked his gun before pulling on a light jacket. He grabbed Starsky’s car keys that hung near the door and tossed them to his partner before heading out.

* * * *

As Hutch had predicted, it took just over half an hour to complete all the paperwork waiting for them at the lawyer’s office. They could have been done sooner but Starsky insisted they both read each document before they signed it. Hutch insisted that it was unnecessary since he had known the lawyer for years but Starsky was adamant. He had stated firmly, “Never sign your name to anything if you don’t know what it says or understand what you’re agreeing to.”

Admitting it was sound advice, Hutch sat and read everything. Once they finished examining the documents they signed, they had copies made. When it was all said and done, they were beginning to wonder just how many times a person could actually sign his or her name in such a short time. Still, it had taken less paper work than they had expected it would to make them legal next-of-kin.

Starsky breathed a sigh of relief now that it was finally finished. Short of outright adoption or marriage, they were as much family as the law would allow. It felt good to know that detail of their lives had been settled.

* * * *

Stopping at a red light, Hutch glanced over at his lover, studying his profile. He took in the clean line of his jaw and the soft curve of his lips. He smiled when he noticed a small mark on Starsky’s neck just peeking out above the collar of his shirt. Normally he was careful not to leave any visible evidence, but he hadn’t been paying attention this morning. He had thoroughly enjoyed the way he had chosen to wake him up and the shower together had certainly been a good idea.

It’s great to finally have a day off to just kick back and relax, Hutch thought. Going to the museum is definitely an added bonus. Hutch had seen the advertisement for the show at the museum over a week ago, but he had hesitated to ask Starsky. He wanted his lover to enjoy the things he enjoyed, but he didn’t want to push it. It sometimes seemed like they had absolutely nothing in common. Occasionally it felt like their partnership was little more than a study in contrasts.

Hell, I was half-afraid to even mention it; thought he would say no. Then he goes and says yes like it was no big deal and I feel like a fool for worrying about being rejected. One of these days I am going to learn not to be surprised by anything he does.

He turned to look at Starsky and saw him gazing at him. “Light’s green, Starsk,” he said, breaking Starsky’s reverie. Starsky could see the faint smile on Hutch’s face when the car shot through the intersection. Starsky glared at him and Hutch’s smile just got wider. Starsky shook his head and felt an answering smile spreading on his face. Something about that smile always makes me want to kiss him, Hutch thought.

“Do you want to eat lunch first or head for the museum?” Starsky asked.

Hutch looked at his watch and shrugged. “I’m not really hungry. We ate breakfast later than usual. So, we can just head for the museum if you want.”

“Works for me.” Starsky hung a left down the next street heading for the art museum. “Tell me again what we’re gonna see.”

“Impressionist art exhibit.”

“Okay… so what is that exactly?”

Hutch looked over at Starsky in surprise.

Starsky shifted in his seat, looking faintly embarrassed and shrugged. “Hey, I wasn’t kidding when I said I didn’t know anything about art.”

Guess not. Okay, start with the basics then. Starsky easily navigated his way through the light afternoon traffic while Hutch gave a brief description of Impressionist Art.

“Impressionism is an artistic style that began in the late nineteenth century and continued through the early twentieth. The idea was to basically paint things that the artist saw outside his or her window. Sort of the view you might get if you just caught a glance at something. In its most extreme form there is very little detail and the image is conveyed through the use of color, light, and shadow. Some of them verge on being abstract. The early work tends to be more detailed than paintings done later on. But it varies from artist to artist depending on the subject matter and the artist’s own preference.”

“So who’s stuff are we gonna see?” To Hutch’s surprise, Starsky seemed genuinely interested.

“According to the announcement, they will be displaying works by Manet, Pissarro, Degas, Sisley, Monet, Morisot, Renoir, and Cassatt.”

“These guys any good?”

“Many of their paintings are considered masterpieces.”

Starsky nodded and flashed a quick grin at Hutch. “Guess if I’m gonna learn something about art might as well start with the best, right?”

Hutch nodded. “Always the best place to begin anything.”

Starsky turned right down the next street. They would be at the museum in another fifteen blocks.

“Did you study art in school or is this just somethin’ you ‘ve always had an interest in?”

“Little of both actually. I did take a couple of appreciation classes when I was in college, but I already had a fairly broad background in it and a lot of exposure to art long before then,” Hutch replied softly, thinking about one of his favorite relatives, Aunt Elizabeth.

“My Aunt Elizabeth was a big patron of the arts. The Art Institute of Duluth was one of her favorite places. About once a month or so, she’d round up all us kids… me, my sister, and cousin, and take us to the Institute to see whatever the latest exhibit was on display. It was sort of a ritual family outing. She’d come by to pick us all up, give us a lecture about what we were going to see and admonish to behave or else. She’d let us wander through the building going to see whatever had caught our attention at the time, even if it wasn’t what we were supposed to be doing. Then she’d take us out to eat at some fast-food restaurant none of our parents would approve of.”

Starsky could hear the wistful tone in his voice. The memories were bittersweet. Thinking about his childhood always left him feeling a little melancholy. Even though it was years ago and he had made a life for himself in Bay City, he still had trouble dealing with the trauma of the abuse by his father, but he also missed some members of his family.

Hutch wasn’t surprised when Starsky reached over. The touch was both a means of comfort and apology. “Sorry, Hutch. I shouldn’t have asked. Didn’t mean to—”

“It’s okay. Not your fault.” Hutch leaned into Starsky’s touch briefly. He quirked a half-smile at his lover. “Just hits me once in a while.”

Starsky nodded but still looked apologetic. Hutch didn’t want that. Starsky had nothing to be sorry for. Thinking about his family wasn’t always a bad thing. It was just an old ache he was learning to live with. “I miss some of them, but I wouldn’t trade what I have now for anything. I just wish things could have been different.”

Starsky cocked his head to one side and smiled. “So, you wouldn’t trade me for anything would ya?”

“Nope. I always demand the very best.”

The teasing was making Starsky feel better and he could tell that Hutch was as well. He had realized some time ago that his mood was tightly linked with that of his lover’s. When Hutch was happy, he was happy. For the first time he realized it might just work both ways. With a lighter heart, he smoothly pulled into the museum parking lot and found an open space.

“Always knew you were the greedy sort,” Starsky said continuing the conversation.

“Not true. I just don’t think you can ever have too much of a good thing, as often as possible.”

“You are a very bad boy.”

Hutch’s eyes sparkled as they wandered shamelessly up and then down Starsky’s body. “You can punish me later.” His voice was that same husky whisper that got to Starsky every single time.

Starsky felt his mouth go dry and coughed to clear his throat. He then shook his head and schooled his features to look stern. Unconsciously, he found himself mimicking his mother. “You better be on your best behavior young man or else.”

Hutch hung his head and put his hands behind his back in a posture of contrition, reminding Starsky of a little boy who’d gotten caught stealing cookies.

“Yes, sir.” Hutch said softly, still with that same husky voice. When he looked back up, Starsky could see the mischief dancing in his eyes.

Starsky shook himself like a wet dog, trying to stay in control. He decided it would be best to simply turn and head for the museum, otherwise he might be tempted to just strip Hutch naked and take him hard and fast against the hood of the car. He forced his mind away from the image it immediately presented.

They fell in step together and entered the front doors, pausing just long enough for Hutch to pay the price of admission. When Starsky looked as if he might protest, Hutch stopped him with a raised hand. “I invited you. My treat.”

Hutch handed a copy of the color brochure to Starsky. It contained brief write-ups about each artist and the various paintings on display. Hutch casually flipped through it as they made their way to the Impressionist Exhibit. He was pleased there were so few people present. It was almost as if they had the place to themselves.

“Not bad having our own private showing,” Hutch said as they started toward the first exhibit. “I try to get to the museum whenever I have a weekend free and the crowd is sometimes a nuisance. The general quiet atmosphere and freedom to move is going to be just perfect. You know it’s sort of weird when I think about how much time I’ve spent dealing with crowds. Being the star player certainly put me in the limelight of many a crowd when I was in college, not to mention all the traveling together the team did. Might be why I don’t care to be in them now.”

Together they wandered through the various rooms, going from painting to painting. Hutch found himself enjoying watching Starsky as much as he did looking at the masterpieces. Observing his partner, it wasn’t difficult to figure out which paintings he liked and which ones he didn’t.

Anyone who didn’t know him wouldn’t have noticed any overly obvious signs of dislike. Starsky would just study a painting with his head cocked to one side, his expression the same intense, searching look Hutch had seen whenever Starsky focused all of his attention on one thing. His eyes would roam over the painting, taking in color and detail. Several times Starsky stepped back to get a clearer view. Then, once he’d made up his mind about it, he would either shake his head, dismissing the painting entirely, or he would smile slightly in approval before moving on.

Starsky spent a long time studying Manet’s “Olympia” and “Nymph Surprised” and Cassatt’s “Mother and Child” and “Summertime.” He barely glanced at Degas’ “Rehearsal” or Monet’s “Sunrise” and “Rouen Cathedral.” Hutch noticed when Starsky frowned in obvious distaste at “Sunrise.”

Interesting. Wonder why he doesn’t care for Monet? “You don’t like Monet?”

Starsky shrugged and looked slightly defensive. “You did say I didn’t have to like everything.”

Hutch nodded. Easy, Babe. “You don’t.” He was quick to assure Starsky, knowing his friend would be uncomfortable so far out of his element. “I was just curious why you don’t like this one.”

Starsky sighed. “Not sure I can explain it.”

“Give it a shot,” Hutch encouraged softly. He was wondering how Starsky would explain his preference.

“Okay.” Hutch managed not to smile when he saw Starsky square his shoulders and straighten his spine. “I know you said the whole point of this stuff was to just create just an impression, but I guess I prefer a little more… detail, definition. His stuff is… well, too fuzzy, I guess.” Starsky shrugged a shoulder. “It looks like a photograph that got taken before the lens was totally in focus. I’ve seen a lot of sunrises in my time, in spite of what you think,” he said, smiling at Hutch. “But the way he painted it… well, it doesn’t really make me feel like I do when I see the sun come up. I think he got the gist of it right… the way it would look with the sun coming up over the river on a foggy morning, but he didn’t get the way it feels.”

Starsky sighed and waved a hand in a vague meaningless gesture. “Ah, just forget it. I probably ain’t sayin’ this right.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that. I think you did a fine job explaining it. The whole point of a painting is to convey meaning, or emotion, as well as being nice to look at. Not everyone gets the same feeling about any one painting. That’s why there are so many different artists, styles, and subject matter.” Hutch nodded toward “Sunrise.” “I never really cared for this one, either. Although, for me, it had more to do with the color. It always seemed so bland compared to his other work. It seemed to lack life and expression that I think he manages to infuse in his other paintings.”

Hutch glanced toward “Rouen Cathedral.” It was one of his favorites. The play of light and shadow and the incredible colors, made something as solid and immutable as a church seem light and airy. But Starsky had only given it a cursory glance. “You didn’t like that one either?”

“Not really.” Starsky shrugged. “Never been all that religious. So, I might have missed the point he was tryin’ to make with it. And to me, a building is a building. I mean the craftsmanship and the level of effort that goes into it… yeah, I’ve been impressed by different buildings. But I don’t really care to study architecture and it isn’t the sort of thing I’d hang on the wall to just look at for pleasure. I like the landscape stuff that Sisley and Pissarro did a lot better.”

Hutch looked at the painting again. He could definitely see where it would have limited appeal for a man like his lover. When it came to art, the beauty of the natural world would impress Starsky far more than anything man made. Now that they were talking about the artwork, Hutch found it easy to ask what Starsky thought of each painting as they continued through the exhibit. With little effort, Hutch found himself discussing with his partner the pro’s and con’s of each piece and the respective artists. He was surprised to find that he and Starsky preferred many of the same pieces, although often for different reasons.

The conversation continued through several other exhibits. It was turning out to be, without a doubt, one of the best visits to a museum Hutch had ever had. I should have asked him a long time ago.

* * * *

Looking at several charcoal sketches, Starsky was reminded of the drawings he’d seen in Hutch’s notebook at the seminar in Sacramento. Those drawings were easily as good or better than the ones currently on display.

Can’t understand how he’s able to draw the way he does. No time like the present to ask him. Except for the fact that the man is never very forthcoming about his past. Sometimes I think a mime has more to say than he does. Although, I am grateful he doesn’t tend toward the dramatic gestures.

Not without some trepidation, Starsky finally asked Hutch, “Did you have art lessons in college?”

“Nope.”

“You never had someone teach you to draw?” Starsky persisted.

Hutch raised an eyebrow. “No, Starsky. I never had any kind of art lesson.”

“But I’ve seen your sketches.”

Hutch frowned. “What sketches?”

“The ones in the notebook you had with you at that seminar.”

Hutch snorted. “Those are just doodles, Starsky, nothing special.”

“Doodles? Nothing special? How can you not know how good those sketches are?” With great care, Starsky kept his voice neutral. He wasn’t ready to end the conversation yet and if he said something the wrong way, Hutch would just clam up or blow up and neither response would get the answers he wanted.

“Hutch, doodles are cartoon characters or geometric designs or just random marks on a page. What you drew in that notebook were as much works of art as the stuff hanging on the walls here.”

Hutch looked around the room and shook his head. “I doubt that.”

“How long have you been ‘doodling’?”

“Been fooling around with it since I was a kid.”

“Just using regular pencils?” Starsky clearly remembered the sketches done in colored pencil and with charcoal.

“Mostly. I played around with colored pencils and charcoal a time or two. Just out of curiosity more than anything else. It’s just something I do to amuse myself. Of course, at that seminar I was doing it to stay awake.” Hutch smiled at Starsky and winked. “Couldn’t have us both napping. Dobey would have had our heads.”

Starsky returned the smile, pleased that Hutch hadn’t shut him down yet. “Why didn’t you ever take lessons or sign up for a class? I mean you have talent.” When it looked like Hutch would disagree, Starsky stopped him with a hard look. “Trust me on that. I can barely draw a stick figure, but I definitely know a good sketch when I see one. You have to have realized not everyone can draw, even just playing around, as well as you do.”

Hutch sighed. “Fair enough.” He paused, as though searching for the right words, or maybe just for the right place to begin. “When I was in high school…. Well, it’s like every school, I suppose. There were cliques… the jocks, the eggheads… whatever. I was a jock. Sort of left me hard wired into certain things. And because of that, there was a lot left out. Besides, I wasn’t exactly the artistic type.”

“Artistic type? Which is what, exactly?” Starsky knew what that meant to him, but he wasn’t sure what it meant to his partner.

“You know, dress all in black, speak French, looking a bit like you were high most of the time, and putting on airs like you were deeper or smarter than everybody else.”

“Got it.” Starsky had seen a lot of stereotypical artist types and he knew exactly what Hutch meant. “No. I really can’t see you that way either.”

“The biggest reason for not doing anything with it would have been that stuff like lessons and supplies cost money. Money I didn’t have and my old man wasn’t going to give me. I can just hear his reaction now if he found out that his only surviving son wanted to study art. I might have a talent for it, but that doesn’t mean it would pay for itself. Hell, Starsky, most of the stuff in here wasn’t worth anything until these men died. Most of these men were starving when they were alive. Lot of them couldn’t give their stuff away, much less sell it.”

“You have a point. Just being good at it is no guarantee you can make money at it. Still, not to develop that skill, to not explore the possibilities… well, it just doesn’t seem right. What about when you were in college? You could have taken something as an elective.”

Hutch shook his head. “Even with the problems my dad and I had, he paid for my college education. He was hell bent that I study Business Administration and go into the business with him. Between the courses I had to take and sports, I didn’t have time for anything else, certainly not something as extracurricular as art lessons.”

Starsky opened his mouth to ask another question when his stomach interrupted with a loud growl. Right on cue, Hutch’s stomach echoed it with a growl of its own. An older woman, who reminded him of a judgmental grade school librarian, shot both of them a disapproving frown. Hutch barely managed to stifle the urge to stick out his tongue at her when he saw Starsky smile. He found himself smiling back at his lover.

I just know he knows what I was thinking. I bet he was even thinking the same thing.

“Maybe we can shelve this round of twenty questions until after we have lunch.” Hutch glanced at the clock on the wall. “Or might be better just to have an early dinner.”

Looking at the clock, Starsky was surprised to see it was nearly 4:30. They had spent nearly three and a half hours wandering through the museum. “I never would have thought we’d be here so long. Yeah. An early dinner is a great idea. Come on, Hutch. Let’s go home.”

Together they headed back outside to Starsky’s car. To Starsky’s amazement, Hutch actually opened the door for him before going around and getting in. “Just when I think I’ve got you figured out, I swear you do stuff just to keep me guessing. Like opening my door, or answering my questions… hmm… you did say we could continue playing twenty questions. Let’s see if you meant it.”

Sliding in behind the wheel, Starsky started the car before asking his next question. “So, what did you study in school that you didn’t have time for an elective art class?”

“Major was business administration and my minor was economics.”

Pulling out of the parking lot and heading back to the ranch, Starsky considered this. “You didn’t study some kind of law enforcement?”

“Nope.

Starsky shook his head, dumbfounded. That wasn’t what he’d expected Hutch to say at all. “I don’t get it.”

“What’s to get?”

“Well, I thought you always planned to be a cop. You told me your grandfather was a Sheriff in Minnesota and that he taught you how to shoot as a kid.”

Hutch raised an eyebrow. “Grandpa was a Sheriff and he did teach me how to shoot. Doesn’t mean I always planned to be a cop.”

“Fair enough. I guess I just never really thought of you as being anything but a cop,” he offered as a sort of apology, not entirely sure if he needed to apologize or not.

“Know what you mean. I can’t picture you as a lawyer either.”

“So… how did you end up as a cop?” Starsky had told Hutch why he’d given up on the idea of being a lawyer and how he ended up working as a cop. He was hoping his partner would be willing to do the same.

Hutch sighed and looked out the window. His voice was soft, almost reflective. “Making plans for your life is sometimes the biggest waste of time. Never works out the way you think it will. But it isn’t always all bad that it doesn’t.”

Hutch reached over, his hand trailing down Starsky’s arm until he captured his partner’s hand. He gently entwined their fingers. “Never planned to meet you. Didn’t plan on liking you or falling in love with you either. Guess that just goes to prove the best things in life are usually accidental and almost always surprise you.”

Hutch sighed softly. “My plan was to play pro ball for as long as my body held out and save enough money to buy a small farm like Grandpa had when I retired from baseball. That was the plan. But then I ruined my shoulder, Vanessa got pregnant, and pro ball wasn’t gonna be an option anymore. While I was waiting for my shoulder to heal, I spent a lot of time with my grandmother. Grandpa had been dead a couple of years by then. Most of that time was just feeling sorry for myself.”

Starsky squeezed Hutch’s hand gently. He knew all too well what it felt like to have a dream ripped away from you. He almost regretted asking the question.

“Grandma didn’t have any patience for self-pity and I have to admit she was right. It wasn’t like the world ended. It just meant I had to make a new plan. I had to find something else to do with my life. Don’t really know how it came about, but we talked about Grandpa a lot. I always had a lot of respect for him. Even as a little kid, I knew he was a good man, kind of guy I could look up to. He was what they used to call a stand-up man. Kind of man who could be trusted and was reliable. Someone who always did an honest day’s work for an honest day’s pay. Sort of guy you went to when you were in trouble, or needed help.”

Hutch looked out the window again. “Guess I wanted to be like him. I wanted to be the kind of man he’d have been proud to know. Wanted to be the kind of man he would have called a friend.” Hutch shrugged one shoulder. “And the next thing I know, I’m signing up at the academy. That was the beginning of the end between Van and me. As you know she hated the idea of me being a cop. It was a few weeks after I signed up for the academy that she told me she had a miscarriage. I found out later it was an abortion. After that, things went downhill in a hurry. When we finally divorced, it was actually a relief.”

Starsky nodded. “You are a stand-up man and a damn fine cop. I think your grandfather would have been proud to know you and to call you a friend. Just like I am.”

The smile Hutch gave Starsky was bright with love. “Thanks. That means a lot to me.”

Starsky had more questions, but decided it might be best to just let it rest for now. He’d already gotten far more from his usually taciturn partner than he honestly expected. He was learning not to push.

The rest of the drive back to the beach was made in silence. Starsky concentrated on weaving through Friday rush hour traffic. He’d forgotten the rest of the world had to work today and would be driving crazier than usual, eager to escape their jobs and start on the weekend. Starsky still thought people in California were the worst drivers in the world.

 

 

Chapter 6

Starsky never would have thought that looking at the photo of a child would be so damn difficult. He’d been a cop long enough to have seen some pretty horrific things. Crime scene photos of homicides are never pretty and autopsies aren’t for those with weak stomachs. Dealing with victims and criminals alike, he’d learned to distance himself… to check his emotions at the door so that he could get on with the business of putting the bad guys behind bars.

Starsky thought he had enough emotional armor now that the day in and day out ugly shit of the job didn’t honestly upset him… much. Well, at least not this bad. After everything he’d seen, Starsky never expected a reasonably benign picture of one ten-year-old boy to get to him.

Everyone with a TV has seen pictures of kids starving in foreign countries, and it may be callous to say so, but he never felt for them what he felt for James “Jimmy” Thomas. Jimmy Thomas had a name and a loving mother who was scared to death something horrible was happening to him or had already happened. His face haunted Starsky. To be honest, it isn’t Jimmy’s face that got to him. It was that he looked so much like Hutch.

Other than the fact that Jimmy had brown eyes, he was the very image of what Starsky’s partner would have looked like at that age. He had curly blond hair, the same slender, almost delicate build. He had the same elfin look to his face, with high cheekbones and slightly pointed chin that Starsky was sure Hutch sported as a child.

In the photo, Jimmy was wearing a baseball cap, button down shirt, and jeans, smiling shyly for the camera. His mother said that he was small for is age, and Starsky suspected that Hutch was the same way. Given time, Jimmy Thomas would likely grow into a long-limbed, lanky man the same way Hutch had. Or at least he would if Starsky had anything to say about it.

Three days ago, his father had kidnapped him. His mother, Margaret, had won the final custody battle. Although she hadn’t actually come right out and said so, she’d hinted that physical abuse was definitely an issue. Starsky’s guts knotted up just thinking about this child being in the hands of someone that had hurt him before and would in all likelihood do so again.

Starsky couldn’t help Hutch as a child when his father was making his life a living hell, but he desperately needed to help Jimmy.

Starsky was pretty certain that his partner just needed to save this kid because no one was there to save him at that age. Both of them were aware that his father had taken Jimmy for no other reason than to hurt Margaret. And that monkey had been riding their backs for three days.

Starsky looked over at his partner and lover. Hutch was studying everything they’d been able to find out about Jimmy’s father, Mike Thomas. Damn. I hope I don’t look as bad as he does. But I’ll bet I’m running a close second.

Dark bruises under Hutch’s eyes were visible testimony to his lack of sleep and the lines of exhaustion were in danger of becoming permanent features. Hutch’s shoulders slumped slightly and his actions lacked his normal graceful, fluid movement.

Starsky thought Hutch might have lost weight over the past few days. He had to have, because Starsky didn’t think he’d seen him consume anything that didn’t come in a Styrofoam cup with lots of sugar and caffeine. He knew for a fact that Hutch wasn’t sleeping well.

I’d bet money he hasn’t gotten more than six or seven hours sleep in the past three days. We’re in bed later than usual and I’m sure he’s up well before his normal ungodly hour. He’s quiet about it, but I know he’s having nightmares again.

Hutch was the only person he knew who had quiet nightmares. His lover didn’t thrash about or scream. Instead, Hutch would go completely rigid, his entire body trembling, bathed in a cold sweat. The loudest sound he’d make was no more than a whimper.

Starsky wasn’t entirely certain how, or why, but those oddly quiet bouts of fear and desperation would wake him from a sound sleep every time. Starsky figured that he was just so in tune to Hutch that when his lover wasn’t sleeping well, neither did he.

Starsky would wake and offer whatever comfort he could. He didn’t know for certain but he suspected that Hutch simply lay awake, waiting for him to go back to sleep, before he slipped out of bed.

Starsky wasn’t the only one who’d noticed Hutch’s less than stellar appearance. Dobey tried to get both of them to leave when their shift was over. Hell, he’s been trying to get us to do that for the last few days. Finding Jimmy has been the major focus of our lives since the case dropped in our laps. Obsessed would be an apt description for either of us.

Hutch leaned back and rubbed one hand over his face. He reached for the coffee cup on his desk. He took a sip, and grimaced in distaste. The sludge they make here tastes awful when it’s hot. It’s even worse when it’s cold. He frowned at the file in front of him. Then his eyes rose to meet Starsky’s.

Starsky could easily make out the determination there.

“We’re missing something, Starsk. Just wish I knew what in the hell it was.”

“Want to do it by the numbers again?” What Starsky really wanted to ask was if he wanted to go home, but he already knew the answer to that. He wasn’t sure just how much endurance Hutch had, but Starsky was prepared to go whatever distance his partner went.

Hutch closed his eyes and nodded. He raised both hands to massage his temples.

“Family? Known associates?”

Starsky glanced at his notes, more out of habit than any real need. They both knew this stuff by heart. Starsky was fairly certain he could have recited the details of the case and the information they’d gathered in his sleep. But Hutch wanted it by the numbers so they would go over it again. Re-hash the same information and see if anything new shook loose.

“No immediate family in the area. Both mother and father are dead. He has a brother that lives in Tucson. But the brother hasn’t heard from him in over a year. Thomas isn’t a convicted felon so records doesn’t have any known associates to give us and Margaret hasn’t seen him, other than at their court dates, since she got a restraining order six months ago. She was no help with anyone he might have gone to.”

“No friends?” Hutch asked but it came out as more of a statement.

Starsky answered anyway. “None that we’ve been able to track down. By all accounts the man is a loner.”

“Employment?”

“Lost his job about nine months ago. Boss said he showed up drunk on the job and fired him. Hasn’t seen or heard from him since.”

“DMV?”

“Thomas lost his license for a DUI almost two years ago. Margaret got their car in the settlement. No one seems to know for sure just what he was using for transportation.”

“Last known address?”

“An apartment on Culver Avenue. Uniforms searched the place, and canvassed the neighbors. They’re also staking it out, but there’s been no sign of him yet.”

“Witness statements?”

“Surprisingly consistent. According to the secretary at the school, someone claiming to be Margaret called and told them that a friend would be picking up Jimmy from school. The woman apologized for the inconvenience. She said she had forgotten that Jimmy had a dental appointment and was lucky to have found a friend who could take him since she couldn’t get away from work. The secretary didn’t suspect anything was wrong because the caller said her friend would know the safe word.”

Many schools had started using safe words as a security precaution. Simply put, it meant that each child had a word that any one picking it up from school must know before a child would be permitted to leave. The word was usually something agreed to by the parent and child and was generally kept on file at the school office. It was supposed to be updated at least once a semester.

“Mrs. Tammy Anders, Jimmy’s teacher, has only been working at Washington Elementary for about three months. She’s never met Mike Thomas and didn’t recognize him when he walked in. When he showed up and gave the word she had no reason to suspect Thomas might be dangerous. She says she asked Jimmy if he knew Thomas and Jimmy nodded. Jimmy left with him at a little after one. Same story from his classmates, the principal, and other teachers.”

“He went willingly?”

Starsky shrugged. “No one remembers Jimmy resisting. No tears, no shouting, or pulling away. He didn’t raise any of the usual fuss you would expect a child to do if they didn’t want to go.”

Hutch snorted. “Yeah. These are the same people who thought he was just clumsy, too. You’d have to be clumsy and ‘talented’ to fall down and bruise both sides of your face at the same time.” Hutch didn’t say it with any malice, just a resigned matter-of-fact cynical tone that left little doubt of what he thought.

Starsky couldn’t help but wince at that. Damn but this case hits awfully close to home. I really hope we find Jimmy alive. I don’t think either of us could handle anything less.

“So, who called the school? Obviously, it wasn’t Margaret or Thomas. Was he seeing someone?”

Starsky shook his head. “Not that anyone seems to be aware of. But we haven’t been able to pin down anyone who’s had much contact with him in the last six months.”

Hutch ran his hands through his hair. “We pulled the phone logs for the school, right?”

“Yeah. We did a reverse directory on it and the call came in from a phone booth that was two blocks from the school.”

“Lab boys dusted for prints?”

“Uh-huh. Haven’t got the report back yet. Lab said they’d call as soon as they had something for us.”

“Damn.” Hutch sighed quietly. “What about the lawyer he had for the custody case? Anything there?”

“Keeps saying anything they talked about comes under client confidentiality. We’ve got a subpoena in the works for his records and notes and should have access to those tomorrow.”

“Margaret get any calls, ransom demands, or Thomas just calling to harass her? Anything at all?” In a normal kidnapping, they would have expected some sort of demand within twenty-four hours. But then, this case was far from normal.

Starsky shook his head. “No contact so far. We’ve got a tap on her line just in case. Minnie and Sgt. Taylor are with her right now. Johnson and his partner are due to relieve them in another hour or so.”

Hutch nodded. “Okay. So—” He was interrupted by the phone. It seemed incredibly loud in the nearly deserted bullpen. Hutch leaned forward and answered. “Hutchinson… Hi, Kellie.”

Starsky knew Kellie was one of the lab techs and he crossed his fingers hoping she had good news for them. All they needed was one lead. Something, anything that might point them in the right direction.

“Whatcha got? Uh-huh… yeah, figured that might be the case… You did? Excellent.” Hutch snatched up a pencil and a piece of paper and began writing. “Okay. Thanks Kellie. Owe you one.”

Starsky raised an eyebrow at Hutch, silently asking to be filled in.

“Kellie said nearly all of the prints they got were smudged and most of those they did get were men. All but one. They found one set of clean prints that belong to a woman, Louise Turner. She was picked up for soliciting and prostitution three years ago, but she’s kept her nose clean since then. Kellie pulled her file and got a last known address. It’s a long shot, but we don’t have anything else to go on.”

Starsky grabbed his jacket. “Let’s go pay the lady a visit.”

Together they headed for the parking garage. They were only ten minutes from their destination when the radio reported a domestic disturbance call. The address given by the dispatcher was the same one they were headed toward.

“Damn. Damn. Damn,” Starsky cursed softly.

“My thoughts exactly.” With a sigh, Hutch picked up the microphone and answered the call. “Better let them know we’re responding.”

Starsky sighed. “Tell them to send at least one black and white, maybe two, just in case. If Thomas is there, we might need them. Of course, given the way domestic shit usually works out, we might need help even if he isn’t there.”

Hutch nodded and passed on the message to the dispatcher. Most cops were extremely wary of getting called in on domestic disputes. They were almost always volatile and unpredictable. The last one Hutch had answered was as a uniform officer. A man was beating his wife, when Hutch intervened and cuffed him, the wife had tried to stab him. It had taken the efforts of both Hutch and his partner at the time to restrain her. He hated domestic calls.

Starsky brought the Torino to a stop in front of a modest ranch style house. Leaving the car, they could easily make out the sounds of voices shouting from inside. The dispatcher had said the neighbors had called it in. Not a big surprise. Whoever is inside is making enough noise to wake the dead.

Together they made their way on to the porch. The sound of a gunshot and breaking glass made both men flinch and duck for cover. They drew their guns just as a second shot sounded and a woman screamed. Hutch nodded once and Starsky kicked in the door. Hutch darted in heading left and Starsky went right.

Thomas stood directly in front of them screaming obscenities and waving a revolver. Starsky had no trouble recognizing him from the description Margaret had given of her ex-husband. Six feet, blond, blue eyes, and brawny.

Jesus. The man is huge. Looks like he’d have to turn sideways to fit through the door. Thomas wasn’t fat; he was just big and solid, like a wrestler. Looking at him, Starsky couldn’t help thinking Jimmy must have gotten his build from his mother.

Cowering and crying against the far wall was a small, dark-haired woman Starsky assumed was Louise Turner. She had several bruises developing on her face, and one eye was swelling closed.

Thomas turned toward them, pointing the gun first at Hutch and then Starsky. “Who the hell are you? Ain’t got no business here,” Thomas shouted in a drunken slur. “Get the fuck out!”

“Sir, we can’t do that. We’re police officers. Now, I suggest you put the gun down. Put it down now and no one has to get hurt,” Hutch answered, trying to sound reasonable and calm. He was hoping that they could defuse the situation. He really didn’t want to shoot him, but he wouldn’t hesitate to do so if Thomas didn’t put down the weapon.

Starsky’s eyes tracked every move Thomas made.

Thomas turned back toward the cowering woman. “You called the cops! You goddamn bitch!” Seeming to forget he was holding the gun, Thomas reached out and slapped her.

“No, baby, I didn’t. I swear I didn’t.” She continued crying, and huddled closer to the floor. She raised an arm to shield her face.

Starsky stepped forward, moving closer to the woman and drawing Thomas’s attention back to him. “Drop the gun and back away from her,” Starsky ordered, his voice hard and cold. He kept his gun trained on Thomas. Everything about Starsky’s stance promised violence if Thomas didn’t obey. “Don’t hit her again.”

Hutch shook his head, realizing there would be little chance of peacefully settling this situation. If there was one thing that Starsky had no patience with, it was disrespecting or abusing women or children; Thomas had done both. Without any regret, Hutch was ready to back Starsky. He moved further into the room so that they both had a clear shot at Thomas.

Thomas was apparently sober enough to grasp the danger he was in, because he stepped back once and then again. However, he was still too drunk to fully appreciate the situation. “Nobody needs you here. Get the hell out!”

Starsky took another step forward, putting himself almost between Thomas and the woman. “Oh, I think we need to be here.” Starsky’s voice was at a conversational volume, but it exuded menace.

Hutch recognized it as Starsky at his most dangerous. When he was yelling, it was just his way of blowing off steam, but the quieter he got the more likely it was that someone was going to get hurt.

“Goddamn cops! Always buttin’ in where ya don’t belong.” Thomas raised his gun and leveled it at Starsky. “I should jus’ shoot you!”

Hutch tensed. Please dear God, he prayed silently and held his breath. He didn’t want anything to happen to his partner. With enforced calm, he steadied his aim and planned his shot. If he were careful, he could disable Thomas.

At the moment though, Starsky was planning a kill shot. Starsky appeared unaffected by Thomas’s ranting or his threat. He kept staring at Thomas, waiting. His posture was relaxed, but ready, and his gun never wavered.

His steady gaze seemed to make the larger man nervous. This was obviously not the reaction Thomas expected.

Hell, it wasn’t quite the reaction I expected either.

“Not a good idea,” Starsky stated calmly.

Thomas sneered. “Oh, yeah. Why not?”

Starsky nodded toward Hutch. “Because my partner will fill you full o’ holes.”

Hutch grinned. It was little more than a bearing of his teeth. You bet your ass I will. No one even thinks about hurting my partner and gets away with it. No one.

Thomas cast a wary glance at Starsky. “Could still get you.” Thomas sounded far less confident than he had only a minute before.

“Maybe. Doubt it though.” Starsky smiled tightly. “Your aim doesn’t appear to be very good.” Starsky nodded toward the broken lamp lying on the floor. That was likely the source of the breaking glass sound they had heard earlier.

“And Hutch is a damn good shot. He won’t miss. Any way you look at it, it’s a losing situation.”

Thomas slowly lowered his gun. He seemed to be thinking about what Starsky said. He didn’t have the chance to think long because suddenly his eyes rolled back in his head. Thomas collapsed, falling forward slowly like a felled tree.

Wow. Timber! Hutch thought as he shook his head. “Wonder how much booze it takes to make a man his size pass out?”

Starsky breathed a careful sigh of relief. The whole situation was sort of anticlimactic, but Starsky wasn’t going to complain. Hutch didn’t get hurt, he didn’t get hurt, and that was good enough. The unspent adrenaline in his system would fade soon enough.

Starsky moved forward and quickly cuffed Thomas’s hands behind his back. The cuffs just barely fit and they were tight enough to be painful. Good. Serves the bastard right.

Hutch holstered his gun and picked up the revolver Thomas had been holding by the trigger guard. Making sure the safety was on, Hutch placed the gun on the nearby end table. Then he crouched down in front of the woman, careful to give her enough room so she wouldn’t feel trapped or threatened.

“Ma’am? You all right?”

The woman tried to halt her tears as she answered, “I’m… I’m okay. Was just… a… misunderstanding. Not some… something the cops… need to… bother with.”

“Uh-huh. Seems a little more than just a misunderstanding.” Hutch’s voice had an edge to it and the woman flushed in response.

“Mike isn’t… always like this. Just when… he’s been drinking.”

Somewhat incredulous, Starsky asked, “He spend enough time sober to make this worthwhile?”

“He’s a good man. He didn’t mean to hit me. He just lost his temper. Was my fault. Always my fault. Mike loves me.”

Starsky snorted. He’d heard this argument before. He’d never understood how a woman could let someone repeatedly abuse her. But then he couldn’t understand how someone would brutalize a person he professed to love either.

Hutch gently reached out to help the woman stand. She leaned on him, trembling.

“What’s your name?”

“Louise. Louise Turner.”

Hutch nodded. He led her to the couch and helped her sit. “My name is Ken Hutchinson and my partner is David Starsky.”

Starsky shook his head, somewhat amazed that Hutch could make those introductions sound so normal. Especially given how decidedly not normal everything was just a few minutes ago. Starsky heard the siren of a black and white approaching. “Back-up’s here.”

Hutch nodded, but didn’t turn his attention away from Louise. He examined the bruises on her face making sure they were nothing serious.

“Good. They can take Thomas back to the station.”

“I’m not pressing charges,” Louise declared somewhat defiantly. “I told you it was all a misunderstanding. There’s no reason for the cops to get involved.”

Hutch just raised an eyebrow. “I don’t really care if you want to press charges or not, Miss Turner. That’s your choice. Right now, all I really want to know is where’s Jimmy.”

Louise dropped her eyes. She fidgeted nervously. “I don’t know anyone named Jimmy.”

Hutch forced her head up. His voice soft, but firm. “Louise, three days ago you made a phone call to a school. The call was about Jimmy Thomas.”

“No… no, I didn’t make—”

“Do not lie to me,” Hutch said sharply. Louise flinched away from him and Hutch immediately gentled his tone. “It’s been a long day. I’m not in the mood for anything other than the truth. Tell me where Jimmy is.”

Louise opened her mouth and Hutch cut her off, pointing a finger at her by way of admonishment. “The truth. I will be forced to charge you as an accomplice to kidnapping but if you co-operate, the DA will take that into consideration. If you don’t, I’ll see to it that he throws the book at you.”

She winced, and looked down at the floor. She took in a shaky breath and looked up at Hutch.

Starsky knew she was trying to determine if Hutch was serious. “Oh, I think he means it, lady. He might be a sucker for a damsel in distress, but he cares a lot more about that kid than he does you,” Starsky interjected softly. “It would be best if you just tell him what he wants to know.”

Apparently, Louise was not entirely a fool. “He was crying earlier. Real quiet like, but it was getting on Mike’s nerves. So, he locked Jimmy in the bedroom closet.”

“Christ,” Hutch swore softly. “Starsky?”

“I’m on it.” Starsky moved immediately through the house seeking the closet.

It didn’t take him long to find it. He quickly unlocked the door. Knowing Jimmy was probably scared to death, Starsky went down on one knee, trying to appear less intimidating to a small child.

“Jimmy? Are you in there? My name is David. I’m a police officer. It’s okay to come out now.” Starsky kept his voice quiet and calm. He had learned that sounding normal around children tended to sooth them. They were often more sensitive to how things were said than to what was said.

From the back of the closet Jimmy emerged slowly, brown eyes warily assessing Starsky and the room beyond. His blond hair was a tousled mop, that immediately made Starsky think of Hutch when he first woke up. Dried tears had left tracks down Jimmy’s cheeks. He had a large, hand shaped bruise on his right cheek where he’d evidently been slapped hard not too long ago.

Starsky winced as he noted the bruise. Bastard. Should have shot him when I had the chance.

“You okay, Jimmy?” Starsky asked gently, still careful not to intimidate or upset the small boy standing before him.

“Yes, Sir. I’m okay,” Jimmy answered. He continued to watch Starsky.

Starsky held himself still under that assessing gaze. It felt familiar and with a start he realized Hutch tended to do the same thing. His lover would study people, size them up in a second to determine if they could be trusted, if they were dangerous to himself or those around him, if he should be ready to fight or run, duck, or strike out. Hutch made snap decisions regarding people and he was seldom wrong.

It was disconcerting to be studied the same way by a child. It was even more disconcerting to realize that Hutch had probably learned to do it at the same age as Jimmy and for the same reason… self-defense.

Starsky held out his hand to the child and breathed a relieved sigh when Jimmy took it. Apparently, he’d been found worthy of trust, at least conditionally.

“Would you like me to call your mom?”

“Is Mama okay?” Jimmy looked worried.

“Your mother’s fine. She’s just worried about you.”

The little boy nodded, looking surprisingly mature. “I thought she’d be worried. I tried to call her, but Daddy wouldn’t let me.” Jimmy raised a hand to his face and Starsky guessed that Thomas might have hit him when he tried to call. “Is Miss Louise okay? I heard Daddy yelling and I could hear her crying. It didn’t sound good.”

Don’t know exactly how to answer that one. “You like her?” Starsky asked instead of answering the question.

Jimmy shrugged. “She’s been real nice to me since I’ve been here. Made me lunch and let me watch cartoons. She tried to keep Daddy from—” Jimmy stopped abruptly and looked at the floor.

“She tried to keep him from doing what? Locking you in the closet?”

Jimmy gave him a jerky nod. “She tried. But Daddy’s a lot bigger’n she is. Being in there wasn’t too bad. At least not so bad Miss Louise had to get in trouble over it. Didn’t want Daddy mad at her ’cause of me.”

Starsky smiled sadly at that. Again, he was reminded of Hutch. His partner had taken more than one beating and suffered in silence for no other reason than a misguided need to protect someone else.

Starsky cautiously guided Jimmy out to the living room. Two uniformed officers were in the process of hauling the still unconscious Mike Thomas out of the room.

Manhandling that much dead weight would be quite a workout and Starsky was glad he didn’t have to help. I’d drop him on his head a few times just for good measure.

Jimmy stared wide-eyed at them for just a moment. His gaze quickly shifted to the other occupants in the room. He released Starsky’s hand, heading for Louise. “Miss Louise? Are you okay?”

She gave him a shaky smile. “Sure, honey. I’m fine. Nothing you need to worry about. Your daddy just lost his temper. Was my fault. No harm done.”

Jimmy stared at the bruises on her face. Tentatively, he reached to ghost small fingers over her black eye. With the simple candor only a child was capable of, he observed, “Mama used to say the same thing. She doesn’t have to say that now that she ain’t with Daddy anymore.”

Jimmy jumped away from Louise and quickly stepped back toward Starsky when Hutch appeared from the kitchen carrying an ice pack.

Starsky rested his hand on Jimmy’s shoulder trying to reassure the boy with physical contact. The last thing he wanted was for the child to be afraid of his partner.

Hutch handed the ice pack to Louise. She put it to her face with a wince and a sigh.

“You sure you don’t want to go to the hospital, ma’am?” Hutch asked her.

“No. I’ll be fine.”

Hutch nodded. He glanced over to Starsky. His expression clearly showed what he thought of her decision, but he wouldn’t fight her on it.

Starsky thought it was good time to introduce his partner to Jimmy. “Jimmy, this is my partner, Hutch. Hutch, this is Jimmy.”

Jimmy gave Hutch the same careful once over he’d given Starsky.

To Starsky’s surprise, Hutch returned the look in equal measure, sizing up the child in front of him. It was obvious that Jimmy wasn’t a threat, so he didn’t really need to be scrutinized. Then it hit him. Hutch was treating Jimmy like he would any other adult, not like a child. And Jimmy obviously knew it because he stood a little straighter, squared his shoulders and raised his eyes to meet Hutch’s. Hutch smiled and offered his hand to Jimmy, the way he would to any other adult he’d just met. Jimmy solemnly reached out and shook Hutch’s hand.

“Nice to meet you, Jimmy.”

“Nice to meet you, too, sir.”

“You okay?” Hutch looked pointedly at the bruise on Jimmy’s cheek.

Starsky could tell it made him angry, but he doubted anyone less familiar with Hutch’s moods would have noticed the slight tightening of his jaw or narrowing of his eyes.

“Yes, sir. I’m okay.”

“You sure?”

Jimmy nodded.

Hutch reached out to touch Jimmy, but the boy flinched away. “Easy, son. I’m not going to hurt you.” Carefully, so not to startle him again, Hutch gently tilted his head slightly so he could better see the bruise. ‘Who hit you?”

“Nobody. I fell.” Jimmy answered far too quickly.

“No, son, you didn’t.” His voice was soft but unyielding.

Jimmy stared at Hutch with wide eyes. He was clearly surprised to have someone disagree with that statement. Starsky couldn’t help but wonder how many times he’d used that excuse and just how many times someone else had bought it. He also wondered just how many times that his partner had used that excuse as a child.

“How do you know? Maybe I’m just clumsy an’ fall down all the time,” Jimmy asked with a mixture of defiance and curiosity.

Hutch shrugged. “I’m a detective. I’m supposed to notice things. And there is no way falling down could leave a bruise shaped like someone’s hand.”

Jimmy flushed and hung his head clearly embarrassed at being caught in such an obvious lie.

Hutch went down on one knee in front of Jimmy, putting himself at eye level. “It’s okay, son. Someone told you not to tell anyone, didn’t they?”

Jimmy nodded looking worried and scared. “I’ll get in trouble if I do.”

“You aren’t in trouble. And no one is going to hurt you. You have my word on that. See, you didn’t say anything I didn’t already know.”

At that Jimmy looked relieved that he wasn’t in trouble for revealing a secret and that he wasn’t going to be punished.

“I just want to know for sure who it was that hit you. Maybe Miss Louise?”

“Oh, no, Miss Louise is a real nice lady. She didn’t hurt me. Honest.”

“So, who did hit you? And I want the truth, son.” Hutch looked steadily at Jimmy. It was the same look he used on Starsky that always made it impossible for him to keep his mouth shut. Starsky suspected Jimmy wouldn’t have any better luck resisting it than he did.

Jimmy looked at the floor. He shifted his weight from one foot to another before answering. Starsky got the distinct impression that the child was thinking over his options. He was impressed when Jimmy decided on the truth. Evidently, he realized that Hutch really wouldn’t accept anything less than a full disclosure and he apparently trusted Hutch when he said no one would hurt him.

“Daddy did. He was mad ’cause I tried to call Mama. I just wanted to let her know I was okay. I didn’t want her to worry.” Jimmy hung his head. “See, I knew she didn’t want me to be with Daddy any more, but Mrs. Anders said he knew the word. I didn’t think she’d believe me if I told her Mama didn’t want me to be with him. Other kids at school go with their daddies all the time and nobody says anything. ‘Sides, Daddy would have been mad if I said anything. Didn’t want to make him mad. He can be real mean when he’s mad.”

Starsky’s jaw clenched. He clearly remembered Hutch talking about the one time he’d told someone his father hit him. Hutch said the man hadn’t believed his father would hit him and for telling the truth Hutch’s father whipped him with a belt. Evidently, Jimmy had similar experiences.

“Well, son, I don’t think your daddy is going to be seeing you again. So you want to go home?”

“I can go home? I don’t have to stay here?” Jimmy’s voice was hopeful, but wary.

“Your Mom is waiting for us to bring you. Why don’t you get your stuff together? We’ll go whenever you’re ready.”

Jimmy made a beeline for the other side of the room. He gathered up a backpack, a denim coat, and his cap.

Starsky smiled when he saw the cap. It was a Minnesota White Sox cap just like Hutch’s.

“I’m ready, sir.”

“Starsky, why don’t you go ahead and take Jimmy out to the car. I’ll be out in a little while. I just need to finish up here.”

Starsky took Jimmy’s hand and led him outside. Another pair of uniformed officers stood in the doorway ready to take Louise Turner into custody. She would be charged as an accessory, endangering the welfare of a minor, and child abuse at the very least, and kidnapping at the most. How stiff a penalty that was likely to earn her probably depended on how willing she was to cooperate. Given the fact that she wasn’t willing to press charges against Thomas for assault and battery, it was unlikely she’d roll on him, so she would probably do some jail time.

Starsky wasn’t certain if Thomas could be charged with kidnapping. Technically, Jimmy was his son and it would be difficult to claim he’d been kidnapped, especially since there had been no ransom demand. But Thomas had violated the custody agreement and the restraining order. He would most certainly be charged with endangering a minor and child abuse. The gun was another issue entirely. Depending on how he’d acquired it, Thomas could be charged with illegal possession. He would most definitely be charged for reckless endangerment for firing the gun inside the house, not to mention threatening both Starsky and Hutch with it.

Starsky knew Hutch would call in the lab boys to find the slugs from the two shots they’d heard fired and to run a check on the weapon’s serial number. Hutch would fill in the other officers before he left. He’d give them a brief statement of what happened, a list of charges to be filed, and he’d make sure they secured the crime scene. Starsky was hoping that they wouldn’t have to start on the paperwork for this case until tomorrow.

At the moment though none of that really mattered. They had found Jimmy, relatively unharmed, and was going to be reunited with his mother. Thank you, God!

Starsky put Jimmy in the back seat and made sure he buckled his seat belt. Glancing at his watch, Starsky frowned seeing it was a little after eight. “Jimmy? Did you get anything to eat for dinner?”

“No, sir.”

“Are you hungry?”

“Yes, sir.”

“We’ll see about getting you something to eat on the way home. And you can call me ‘David’.” He knew the boy was just trying to be polite, but being called ‘sir’ always made him feel old. He was rewarded with a shy smile.

Starsky got in and buckled his own seat belt. He leaned back and rested his head on the seat with a weary sigh. He closed his eyes, only opening them again a few minutes later when he heard Hutch open the car door and slide into his seat.

“Jimmy’s hungry,” Starsky stated once Hutch closed the door. Maybe I can convince Hutch to eat something too while we’re at it. Last thing I actually saw him eat was a half a piece of toast for breakfast. And I can’t remember if that was this morning or yesterday morning.

“Any place you want to go, Jimmy?” Hutch tossed over his shoulder, as they pulled out of the driveway and away from the house.

“McDonalds. They got a new prize in the happy meals.”

Starsky shot Hutch a quirky half smile at that. He knew how Hutch felt about junk food. Hell, the whole station knew how he felt about junk food. “McDonalds it is then.”

Hutch wisely refrained from commenting on the perils of fast food. It wouldn’t do any good anyway. He’d had some success in weaning Starsky away from junk, but not a lot. He couldn’t fix a lifetime of bad habits overnight and kids just naturally seem to be drawn to junk food.

It didn’t take long to track down a McDonald’s. Jimmy got his happy meal, and Starsky ordered a milkshake and fries. Hutch just shook his head and shuddered when Starsky asked if he wanted anything.

“It isn’t that bad, Hutch.”

“Speak for yourself,” Hutch said laughing.

Starsky smiled. He’d forgotten how much he liked hearing his lover laugh. Missed that. A lot. During the past few days, neither of them had cracked so much as a smile. It hadn’t felt right to be anything less than totally focused on the case when a little boy might just be terrified out of his mind and depending on them for his rescue.

They pulled into the driveway at Margaret’s house. The worried mother had obviously been pacing the porch awaiting their arrival. Minnie and Sgt. Taylor were also waiting, apparently trying to keep her reasonably calm.

Margaret was off the porch and down the steps before Starsky had brought the Torino to a complete stop.

Starsky quickly let Jimmy out of the back and the boy was just as quickly folded into this mother’s arms in a fierce hug.

“Oh, thank, God. Jimmy. Thank God,” Margaret whispered over and over again as she held the child and cried.

Hutch slid out of the car, walked around, and leaned against the hood watching the reconciliation between mother and child.

Starsky studied his partner. Bet if he didn’t have the car to lean on he’d fall down. Need to get him home so he can crash. Starsky amended that thought, realizing it wasn’t just his partner who was wiped out. So WE can crash.

Minnie and Taylor walked over to meet them.

“Real nice seeing those two back together,” Minnie stated, watching the mother and child.

“Indeed it is.” Taylor nodded his head at Starsky and Hutch. “Very good work you two.”

Hutch shrugged one shoulder. “Luck had more to do with it than anything else.”

Minnie smiled widely. “More than luck, Hutch. Persistence is always rewarded.”

Margaret finally relinquished her tight hug on her son. She made her way to Hutch and Starsky, still holding Jimmy’s hand. “Thank you for finding my son. Thank you so very much for bringing him home to me.”

Hutch inclined his head slightly. “It was our pleasure, ma’am. We’re just glad he’s back where he belongs, safe and sound.”

Margaret let go of Jimmy long enough to hug first Hutch and then Starsky. “Thank you,” she whispered again to Starsky and kissed his cheek before stepping back to take Jimmy’s hand again.

Jimmy looked at Hutch and copied his stance. “Thank you, sir, for bringing me home.” Then turning to Starsky he said, “Thank you, too, David.”

Starsky smiled, amused that this little boy could ape Hutch’s movements so well, and pleased that Jimmy remembered not to call him sir.

“You look after your mother now.” Hutch’s mild order made it clear that he was treating Jimmy as the man of the house.

Jimmy grinned at Hutch. “Yes, sir, I will.” Together mother and son made their way to the house.

Minnie studied both Starsky and Hutch and shook her head. “Damn. You boys look like ten miles of bad road.”

“Oh, hush,” was all Starsky could muster by way of a comeback. The last thing he needed was to be told was how bad he looked.

“The captain said to tell you not to bother heading back to the office. He said you could take care of the paperwork tomorrow.” She paused for emphasis. “Late tomorrow.” She smiled widely. “I don’t know for certain, my friends, but he might be inclined to hurt you if you show up at your usual time.”

Hutch sighed. “You’re probably right about that. He was already pissed we didn’t leave the office when he wanted.” He raised a hand to rub tiredly at his eyes. “You going to wrap this up here?”

Minnie nodded. “We’ve got it covered. Go home. Get some sleep. See you guys tomorrow. Sleep well.”

Minnie and Taylor headed back to the house. They would gather up whatever equipment had been installed and make sure Margaret and Jimmy were safely tucked in for the night.

Starsky was relieved to be able to turn those details over to someone else.

Hutch pushed himself away from the car. He swayed slightly and Starsky reached out to steady him. Now that they had returned Jimmy safely to his mother, the man had obviously run out of the nearly manic energy that had kept him going until now.

This wasn’t going to be the usual winding down after a tough case. More like a thirty-story free-fall.

“Let’s go home, Blondie.”

“Yeah. I’m a little tired.”

When they were first partnered it hadn’t taken Starsky long before he learned to interpret Hutch’s assessments of his condition. If he said he was fine when he didn’t look fine, then he probably was far from it. If he said he was sore, well then it most likely hurt like hell. If he said he was stiff, it was a miracle the man could move at all. If he hurt a little, then anyone else would be screaming in agony. Being a little tired qualified as being so exhausted he probably couldn’t see straight. He didn’t have much trouble learning Hutch’s code because he was guilty of using the same one more often than not.

“You need help?” Starsky offered, not entirely sure Hutch could make it to get back into the car alone.

Hutch waved him off. “Nope. I got it.”

Starsky watched as his lover made his way carefully to the passenger side door. Hutch’s hand trailed along the side of the car giving him something to rest against. Starsky didn’t get in until after Hutch had managed to crawl into the seat and settle in with a deep sigh.

Starsky started the Torino and backed out of the driveway. He started to head for his apartment since it was closer but thought that Hutch might want to get back to the beach house.

“Hutch?”

“Hmmm?”

“Want to go to my place or yours?”

“Yours. Closer.” Hutch managed to get that out around a yawn.

“Okay. My place it is then.”

Another definite indicator of just how far-gone Hutch was. He was far more agreeable than he would have been otherwise. Not that there was ever much debate about where they would sleep; as long as they were together that was really all that mattered.

Starsky was grateful that traffic this time of night was a lot lighter than during the day. He wasn’t as wiped as his partner but he was sure he couldn’t handle the city’s normal crazy drivers at the moment. A nice, quiet drive home to a soft bed and several hours of uninterrupted sleep were all he wanted to have to deal with.

Starsky figured Hutch would be asleep in minutes and he smiled when he glanced over and saw that he was right. Keeping an eye on his dozing partner as he drove, Starsky frowned slightly when he realized that Hutch seemed to be a little restless.

By all rights the man should be sleeping like the dead.

Half an hour later, Starsky pulled into the parking spot reserved for his apartment.

He reached over and shook Hutch’s shoulder to wake him. He pulled back in surprise when Hutch suddenly jerked violently away from him and brought one arm up in a defensive move, the other hand curled into a fist ready to strike out.

“Hutch! It’s me.”

Hutch took an unsteady breath and slowly relaxed. He unclenched his fist with a shaking hand. “Sorry, David. Forgot where I was… didn’t mean to… David, I would never—”

“Shh… it’s alright.” Starsky reached up to take hold of Hutch’s hand, not liking the way his partner still trembled ever so slightly. Physical contact always seemed to reassure and quiet Hutch faster than anything else.

“You okay, now?”

Another shaky breath. “Yeah. Yeah. I’m all right.”

“You had a dream?”

Hutch nodded.

“Bad one?” It was really more of a statement than a question.

Hutch winced. “Bad enough.”

“You want to talk about it?” Starsky tried to encourage his lover to talk about his nightmares, hoping that talking about them would lessen their impact. He knew talking about his own nightmares always seemed to help. He wasn’t certain, but he thought it helped Hutch, too, when he was willing to open up about them. Sometimes he would and sometimes he wouldn’t.

“Not right now. How about we do it tomorrow?”

Starsky smiled softly. He didn’t say ‘no’ outright and that means he’ll tell me. That’s good enough for now.

“Sure, Hutch. Tomorrow will be soon enough.”

Together they got out of the car and headed up to Starsky’s apartment. Hutch would never ask, but Starsky could tell he desperately wanted to maintain physical contact.

Nice thing about the beach house is we don’t usually have to worry that someone will see us. Oh, the hell with it. He needs this.

Starsky reached out and rested his arm across Hutch’s shoulders. To the casual observer it would look like nothing more than a nice friendly gesture. But in reality, it let Starsky pull his lover into a loose half hug. Since they were alone, Starsky pulled Hutch in closer. Starsky smiled when he heard Hutch sigh softly and he felt him relax, letting more of his weight rest against Starsky.

Works every time.

Starsky gently guided his exhausted lover to the door and held him up while he searched for his keys. Once inside, he managed to get them through the dark apartment, to the bedroom, without tripping over anything. Starsky put the keys down on the bedside table and got Hutch to sit on the bed while he stripped off his clothes. Undressing him reminded Starsky of when he’d taken care of Hutch’s young niece and nephew. A mental image of Hutch as a child quickly transformed itself into one of Jimmy.

Best not to think about that right now, Starsky. Let’s just get some sleep. Deal with everything else tomorrow. Starsky quickly stripped off his own clothes and joined Hutch under the covers.

Normally Hutch slept on his left side or his back. When he was on his left side, Starsky would usually snuggle in close behind him. When he was on his back, Starsky would curl up around him, like he was a human pillow. But tonight, it was Starsky who found himself being used as a pillow.

Hutch never objected to Starsky snuggling in close, but he wasn’t the one who typically initiated the cuddling. Starsky figured that was more because he beat Hutch to it than because of any lack of need for physical contact on Hutch’s part. And right now, Hutch was definitely in need of physical reassurance and comfort. Feeling a faint chill on Hutch’s skin and a residual trembling, Starsky pulled his lover in closer.

Without really thinking about it, Starsky found himself rocking gently and softly singing the lullaby his grandmother and mother had sung to him when he was little. He sang in Polish. Even though Hutch wouldn’t understand the words, Starsky was sure he understood the meaning.

He felt Hutch relaxing, going completely boneless, his breathing coming slower and deeper. Starsky sighed quietly and simply let himself enjoy the feeling of his partner snuggled in close. He tilted his head enough to place a kiss on Hutch’s forehead. As Starsky drifted off to sleep, he silently bid his lover a good night and wished for pleasant dreams for both of them.

* * * *

He took a pair of jeans and a chambray shirt out of the closet and put them on. He left the shirt unbuttoned, with the shirttails hanging loose.

Starsky settled himself in a chair, sipping his coffee, prepared to just watch Hutch until he woke. He liked being able to watch the blond, but opportunities to do so were rare. Starsky was not one to pass up such a chance to indulge himself.

He was in the middle of debating with himself whether to get another cup of coffee, make breakfast, or just keep watching Hutch, when the phone rang. Its ring was shrill and decidedly loud in the otherwise quiet apartment. Starsky swore when Hutch sat up with a start, eyes wildly scanning the room seeking the threat and reaching for the gun he wasn’t wearing.

God damn phone. Should have left it off the hook.

“Easy, Hutch. It’s just the phone,” Starsky tried to reassure his barely awake partner.

Sleep clouded eyes found his. Hutch’s brow wrinkled in confusion, obviously trying to connect what Starsky said to the sound he’d heard.

“Phone?”

“Yeah. It’s just the phone.” As if to confirm that statement, the phone rang again. Starsky reached for it and barked out, “Starsky,” more harshly than he intended. He had wanted his partner to have the chance to just sleep himself out and he was prepared to make the caller very sorry for waking him.

“Starsky? It’s Dobey.”

Starsky sighed. “Sorry, Cap. Wasn’t expecting anyone to call. What can I do for you?”

“I need you to come to the station. Now!”

That doesn’t sound good. “Why? Minnie said you didn’t want me or Hutch there until later today.”

“I didn’t. The desk sergeant just called me to tell me that he was going over last night’s log in before signing off on it. He wanted me to know Kenneth Hutchinson was booked last night. The sergeant knows Hutch works under me and he thought that I might want to be the first to know that one of my officers is currently in lock up waiting to be arraigned. He’s been charged with being drunk and disorderly, not to mention assault and battery!”

Starsky could hear his exasperation and barely contained fury loud and clear.

“Cap, that isn’t right.” Starsky tried to keep his voice neutral and calm.

“You’re damn right it’s not right! You were supposed to be looking out for him. He’s your partner.”

“I have been looking out for him.” Starsky was indignant. Starsky could feel his temper beginning to rise and struggled to contain it.

“You call letting him get involved in a bar fight looking out for him! You call letting him beat some kid into a coma looking out for him! I know you knew how much the Thomas case was bothering Hutch, but I didn’t think you would be stupid enough to just—”

“That is enough! Listen to me! Hutch is not in lock up!!! He sure as hell didn’t get involved in a bar fight last night. And he would never beat someone into a coma!”

“Starsky, the desk sergeant wouldn’t lie about something like that. He even showed me the fingerprint card and they check out as Kenneth Hutchinson’s.”

“Well, someone screwed up because Hutch is sitting right in front of me.”

Starsky looked over at Hutch. His partner was staring at him clearly puzzled as to what was going on, but evidently willing to wait to find out.

“What? What do you mean he’s right in front of you?”

Starsky winced and moved the phone away from his ear when Dobey yelled.

“What do you think I mean?” Starsky growled into the phone. He hated being yelled at. Especially when he hadn’t done anything wrong. “I mean he’s here, at my apartment, sitting right in front of me.”

Realizing that statement would need some sort of explanation, preferably one that wouldn’t let him know that he and Hutch were involved in more than a working relationship, Starsky continued.

“By the time we wrapped everything up last night, he was too exhausted to drive home. I offered to let him stay here. He was still asleep when the phone rang.”

“He’s there?”

Didn’t I just say that? “Yes. He’s here.”

“Let me talk to him,” Dobey demanded.

“Fine.” Starsky handed the phone to Hutch. “It’s Dobey.”

“I sort of figured that out already,” Hutch said dryly as he took the phone. “Cap… Starsky and I dropped Jimmy off at Margaret’s house around eight-thirty, quarter to nine… Talk to Minnie and Taylor, they can tell you for sure when we were there… No, we didn’t stop anywhere… Isn’t that what I just said… No, we went straight to Starsky’s apartment. Starsky didn’t think I should drive and neither did l. So, I just crashed at his place.”

Hutch’s eyes met Starsky’s. Starsky knew his lover was always careful to be basically honest with his supervisor. He’d tell him what happened, just like Starsky did, he just wouldn’t tell him all the unimportant details. The fact that they’d shared the same bed was definitely one of those details he didn’t need to know.

Hutch sighed and rubbed one hand over his face. “Look, you know it isn’t me. Somebody made a mistake. I’ll come down to the office and we can get this mess cleared up. Okay? Okay… How the hell should I know?! Fine. One hour.” With that, Hutch handed the phone back to Starsky.

Hutch buried his head in his hands with a groan. “You ever notice that it can’t seem to rain without pouring?”

Starsky hung up the phone. “Yeah, I noticed that.”

Hutch shook his head. “He wants us down there in an hour.”

“I heard. Why don’t you grab a shower and I’ll fix something to eat.”

‘We don’t have time for breakfast, Starsk. We can just skip—”

“No,” Starsky interrupted. “You are not skipping another meal. You missed too many in the last few days.”

“Dobey will be pissed if we’re late.”

Starsky shrugged. “What? Like he isn’t already pissed? You’re not leaving here without having something to eat first.”

Dobey’s comment about not looking out for Hutch still stung. Well, I’m sure as hell looking out for him now. He isn’t going anywhere without food.

“Yes, Mother.” Hutch smirked, wisely realizing it was a battle he couldn’t win.

He rolled out of bed in one smooth, graceful motion and headed for the bathroom.

Starsky’s retort died on his lips as he caught sight of his naked lover. He took a deep breath. Damn. He’s got to know by now what the sight of him like that does to me.

Shaking his head, Starsky took his empty cup into the kitchen and started a quick breakfast. He decided against scrambled eggs and opted for omelets.

The coffee would be too strong to suit Hutch, but Starsky wasn’t willing to forgo his own coffee this morning. Starsky grinned thinking there were limits to just how far he’d go for someone he loved. And going without his own coffee, strong and black just the way he liked it, was definitely one of them.

Hutch padded out of the bathroom wearing the robe Starsky kept hanging on the back of the door. The light golden color went well with Hutch’s natural coloring. If pressed, Starsky would admit that he bought it with his partner in mind. He’d seen it in a store while shopping. The color of it reminded him so much of Hutch’s hair that he simply couldn’t pass it up.

Starsky let his hand stroke Hutch’s side as he walked past, enjoying the feel of warm flesh under his fingers. His lusty thoughts were curtailed sharply when he realized he could feel a lot of Hutch’s ribs. He decided that from now on he would keep a much closer watch on what Hutch ate, or rather, didn’t eat.

“Sit down and eat.” Starsky slid a plate across the breakfast bar to Hutch.

“Thanks,” Hutch said with a quick grin. Seeing the bacon on Starsky’s plate, Hutch’s grin got wider. “I’ll make sure to make something healthy for dinner tonight, just for you.”

Hutch ate with a swift efficiency that reminded Starsky of someone stoking a coal fire. He wasn’t taking time to enjoy or savor the meal; he was just fueling up for the day ahead. Knowing that being late really wasn’t an option, Starsky found himself eating the same way.

Hutch finished eating a few minutes later and went into the bedroom to get dressed. Starsky followed. He liked watching Hutch dress. The simple economy of motion that made everything he did graceful was always fun to watch. It wouldn’t be as much fun as watching him undress, but Starsky was willing to take what he could get this morning.

Hutch pulled underwear from a dresser drawer that he’d claimed as his own and a shirt and jeans from the closet. They both kept clothes at each other’s place realizing how much simpler it was to be prepared no matter where they spent the night. Starsky smiled thinking that Hutch was such a clothes horse that he’d taken over the most of the closet and half the dresser at Starsky’s while Starsky barely took up a drawer and only a few inches in the back of the Hutch’s closet.

Still watching Hutch, Starsky buttoned his own shirt and tucked it in. He slid his feet into a pair of Adidas about the same time Hutch pulled on his loafers. Hutch grabbed his gun from its usual place at the head of the bed.

Starsky pulled his own gun from the nightstand drawer. He shrugged into a jacket before following his lover back into the living room.

* * * *

Starsky easily navigated his way through the mid-morning traffic, avoiding most of the usual back up areas. They pulled into the police parking-garage and parked next to Hutch’s car. It wasn’t unusual for him to leave it in the garage overnight, so its presence didn’t raise eyebrows. It was common knowledge that when they were working a case, they usually took the Torino. So, at times, Hutch’s car was often a more or less permanent fixture.

Starsky glanced at his watch when they stepped into the elevator. Just under an hour. Not bad. Could have made it sooner if the traffic had been better.

One of the things Starsky learned almost from the day he arrived in Bay City was that the traffic was always bad. It took longer than it should to get anywhere. And, unlike New York, public transportation was practically non-existent. Dobey’s hour deadline would have been impossible during the usual morning rush hour.

Hutch had learned that if you wanted to get somewhere in Bay City in a hurry, it was best to let Starsky drive. The man knew the city like the back of his hand. Short cuts and alternative routes were his forté. Hutch was fairly certain that he didn’t know Duluth as well as Starsky knew Bay City and he’d grown up in that city. Street, buildings, parks… anything you’d care to name and Starsky knew how to get you there. Hutch assumed Starsky had learned to navigate the city so well when he worked as a cab driver.

As soon as they stepped off the elevator they headed for Dobey’s office. Hutch tapped on the glass door. He was on the phone, but motioned for both of them to enter. Starsky took his usual seat, while Hutch opted to remain standing.

Starsky did his best to wait patiently, but being patient really wasn’t something he was good at.

“You find out what the hell is goin’ on?” Starsky asked as soon as Dobey hung up and finally looked at them.

“Oh, yeah. Hutch… you aren’t going to like this.” Dobey handed a mug shot to Hutch. “Recognize him?”

Hutch glanced at the photo and paled slightly. Starsky watched in concern as Hutch’s jaw tightened and his lips thinned into a hard line. Hutch closed his eyes and hung his head for just a moment. Taking a deep breath, he lifted his head and looked at the photo again.

“Damn,” he whispered softly. “I should have known.”

With a resigned sigh, he passed the photo to Starsky. Starsky studied the black and white photo before him. The man was a stranger to him, but he was obviously someone Hutch knew. The height board behind the man indicated he was six foot three and a half. His hair was a light color, probably blond. The description at the bottom confirmed that. It also told Starsky that the man had blue eyes and weighed in at roughly 240 pounds. Looking at the picture again, Starsky guessed a lot of that weight was muscle. The man looked like guys he’d seen working on the docks. There was something about his face that was vaguely familiar.

I should know this guy.

“Who is he?” Starsky finally asked. He directed his question toward Dobey, but it was Hutch who answered.

“Read the name.”

Starsky frowned. The name board read Kenneth Hutchinson. He raised an eyebrow at his partner. “Some kind of joke?”

“Nope. I couldn’t be that lucky. That’s Kenneth Hutchinson. Just like the sign around his neck says.”

“Come again?”

Hutch sighed softly. “My father, Starsky. Kenneth Hutchinson, Senior.”

“Shit.”

“Yep. Sums it up nicely, doesn’t it?” Hutch finally sat down and looked at their superior.

Starsky noticed that his tight, guarded expression was still in place, blue eyes wary.

“So… tell me what you know?”

Dobey sighed, clearly reluctant, but gave him what he asked for. “Last night your father apparently got drunk at a bar on Danby Street downtown. A place called ‘The Eight-Ball Lounge’.”

Starsky nodded. “I know where it is. I don’t understand what a man like your father would be doing in a place like that.”

Hutch shook his head. Of course he’d know to go there! “My dad likes to frequent the seedier places. I think he feels a certain anonymity there.”

“Evidently he started to get loud and obnoxious,” Dobey continued. “The bartender asked him to leave. When he wouldn’t go, the bouncer came over, I quote, ‘to escort him to the door.’ Your father didn’t want to leave and fighting broke out about then.

“According to one witness report, it was reminiscent of an old western bar room brawl. There was a group of college students out celebrating a friend’s twenty-first birthday. The birthday boy, Aaron Mead, is currently in a coma at St. Luke’s hospital. According to witnesses, your father hit him repeatedly with the leg of a chair. It took three guys to pull him off.”

“Anyone else hurt?” Hutch asked quietly. Please tell me this isn’t going to get any worse. Please.

Dobey shook his head. “Not really. Other than Aaron, the rest walked away with the usual assortment of cuts and bruises.”

“And my father?” Hutch asked quietly. His eyes were focused on the floor in front of him.

“He’s in lock up at the moment. The arraignment is scheduled for late this afternoon. Right now, he’s being charged with being drunk and disorderly, disturbing the peace, destruction of private property, and assault and battery. He could end up being charged with murder if Mead doesn’t make it.”

Hutch raised one hand to massage his temple. “What’re the kid’s chances?”

Dobey shook his head. “It doesn’t look good. The doctors are hoping they’ll know more in the next twenty-four to forty-eight hours.”

Hutch closed his eyes and took a deep breath, then another.

Starsky waited. He could almost see Hutch gathering together an invisible emotional armor. There was absolutely no expression on his face and Starsky found that disturbing. He would rather have the man rant and rave than deal with this stoic, remote reaction.

“Hutch… I know you and your father have had… well, your differences in the past, but for what it’s worth, I’m sorry,” Dobey offered.

“Yeah, me, too. You need anything else?”

“I know you’re not close to your father, but maybe you should…”

“No.” Hutch’s voice was flat and hard, cutting off whatever he was going to suggest. “I have work to do. We’ve got to finish the paperwork on the Thomas case.”

“That can wait.”

Hutch shook his head. “Better to get it done now.” With that, Hutch rose smoothly to his feet and left the office.

Starsky rose quickly to follow but stopped when Dobey called his name.

“Starsky?”

“Yeah, Cap?”

“Has Hutch told you about his relationship with his father?” he asked with some hesitation.

Starsky nodded. “He’s talked about it some.”

Dobey smiled slightly, relieved. “Good. He never gave me details. It wasn’t the sort of thing he’d share with me. All he’d ever told me was that he and his father hadn’t seen each other in years. Don’t really know what caused the rift between them.”

Dobey sounded disappointed at Hutch’s unwillingness to open up. Knowing the exact nature of the estrangement between Hutch and his father, Starsky wasn’t entirely surprised to learn that he hadn’t told him about it. Being abused as a child and nearly beaten to death as a teenager, isn’t exactly small talk material. Especially when the culprit is your father.

Hutch could be intensely private and Starsky would be willing to bet there weren’t very many who knew the details. Hell, he wouldn’t have told me either if I hadn’t been there when he had that nightmare. Starsky didn’t hold that against Hutch. He understood. There were things in his past he wasn’t eager to share either and probably wouldn’t until he absolutely had to.

Starsky focused his attention back on his superior when he started speaking again.

“I’m glad he can talk to you, because he’s gonna need someone to talk to about this, when it’s all said and done. He’s not really at his best right now, just being released back to full duties two weeks ago, the Thomas case, and now this. You’ll keep an eye on him, right?”

“Don’t worry, Cap. I’ll take care of him,” Starsky promised. Like you have to ask.

Starsky made his way over to his desk.

Hutch was already working on a report. Seeing the set of his shoulders and that expressionless mask still in place, Starsky decided to give his partner a little space.

Give him a little room to breathe. You’d want it if you were in his place.

Starsky simply sat down at his own desk and started working like it was any other day. Just pretend everything is normal. Act like nothing is wrong. He knew he’d done the right thing when he noticed a slight easing of tension in Hutch’s shoulders. Just when Starsky was starting to relax, he heard a voice call from across the room.

“Hey, Hutch. I hear you got rowdy in a bar last night. You’re making the rest of us look bad busting up the place like that.”

Hutch stiffened and turned to see who had spoken. It was one of the newer officers, Jack Clancy. He glared at Clancy for a moment before saying, “It wasn’t me.”

Clancy laughed. “Oh, sure, Hutch. That’s what they all say. Hell, I just saw a copy of the arrest report. Got your name on it in black and white.”

Starsky cursed silently. The day’s arrest report was routinely circulated around the building to keep everyone informed of who was locked up. It was supposed to cut down on the time they wasted looking for people that were already in custody.

“I don’t care what the report says. It wasn’t me.”

Clancy’s partner, Terrance Jones, piped up. “Got to admit, Hutch, you look pretty good for a guy who was in a fight. Must have given better than you got.”

Hutch took a breath and with what was obvious to anyone who looked, an enforced calm, spoke again. “For the last time. lt. Wasn’t. Me.”

“Sure. Whatever you say, Hutch.” Clancy laughed. “Hell, I thought the only one who ever got you that riled was Starsky.”

Hutch clenched one hand into a fist. Taking a deep breath, he looked at Starsky. In a completely serious tone of voice he asked, “If I shoot him, will you tell everyone it was an accident? The gun just went off?”

Starsky cocked his head to one side. He couldn’t tell if Hutch was joking or not, but with a shrug, decided to back him all the way. “Absolutely. Mistakes like that happen every day. Might seem a little odd if you nail him right between the eyes, though. Try to adjust your aim for something a little less conspicuous.”

Hutch’s lips twitched a little, but his face remained otherwise unreadable. “Good point.” Hutch turned to look at Clancy. He studied him carefully, letting his eyes rake the other man from head to toe, like he was measuring him for a coffin. His eyes were cold enough to make the younger detective shiver.

“Mistakes happen all the time, Clancy, like my name being on that arrest report. You don’t want to be just another mistake, now do you?” Hutch’s voice was soft, but the threat it contained carried easily across the room.

Clancy suddenly had a strong desire to be somewhere else. “C’mon, Jones, we’ve got some witnesses to interview.”

Hutch watched them leave before turning to look at Starsky again. He smiled slightly. “Thanks.”

Starsky smiled back, relieved that things were getting closer to what qualified as normal for them. “Anytime, partner.”

“Let’s see if we can’t get the Thomas case put to bed today.” With that, Hutch turned his attention back to the form he’d been working on.

Starsky turned to his typewriter and forced his mind to focus on writing up what had occurred last night. If all goes well, we can finish this off in a few hours. Put this case behind us. Be one less thing we’ll have to worry about.

* * * *

After two and a half hours, Starsky retrieved the report he’d managed to complete. At least their morning had been relatively quiet. No more interruptions or stupid comments about Hutch’s name being on the arrest report. A small thing to be grateful for, but Starsky was. He glanced at his watch. It was after one already.

He was about to ask Hutch if he wanted to grab a late lunch when the phone on Hutch’s desk rang. Hutch absently picked it up; his attention was focused more on the paper in front of him. “Hutchinson.”

Starsky watched with apprehension as Hutch’s grip on the phone became tight enough to whiten his knuckles. Starsky listened to Hutch’s side of the conversation but it didn’t really tell him much because most of what he said consisted of one-word answers. However, he could read Hutch’s rising anger and agitation easily enough.

“No… No… That’s not a good idea… No.” Hutch sighed. He closed his eyes and his expression became resigned. “Okay. Fine. I’m only doing this once. Understand? Once and only once.” Hutch’s voice had taken on that hard, uncompromising tone Starsky knew rather well. “Where? I’ll meet you there in fifteen minutes.” Hutch hung up the phone with more force than necessary.

“Who was that?”

“That was my father’s lawyer. Seems my old man would like to speak to me.”

“And you said yes?”

Hutch raised an eyebrow at Starsky. “Man didn’t seem inclined to take no for an answer.”

“You should have hung up on him.”

“Wouldn’t do any good. Son of a bitch would have just called back.”

“So what? If you don’t want to talk to your father, then you shouldn’t.”

“More to it than what I want.”

“How in the hell can there be anything more to this than what you want?” Starsky hissed angrily, trying hard to not draw attention by raising his voice. “The bastard doesn’t deserve any consideration. Just tell him to go to hell.”

“Starsky—”

“He hurt you. He damn near killed you! How can you even think of being in the same room with him?” Starsky bit out in a harsh whisper.

Hutch sighed. “The whole situation could cause trouble for the department. It doesn’t look good for me not to talk to him. The man is my father, Starsky. Story wouldn’t play well with the press. Lawyer is prepared to sell some hogwash story about how his client is being denied his basic rights. Would make a nice sob story about how the brass won’t even let him see his son.”

“The brass doesn’t have anything to do with this.”

“Yeah, well, you know as well as I do, the brass would order me to see him if they thought there would be bad press over it. Covering their asses is what they do best and I’d rather have it be my choice, on my terms.” Hutch rubbed absently at his temples. He’d been doing that off and on for most of the morning.

Starsky immediately backed off, not wanting to add to his partner’s stress. “So, we’re meeting this guy in fifteen minutes?”

“We?”

“Yes, we. I’m not letting you meet that bastard without back up.” Starsky was firm on that point. No way in hell would he let his partner walk into this alone. “Where are we meeting him?”

“Interview room one. Second floor.” Hutch smiled warmly at Starsky. He looked relieved to know he wasn’t going to have to face seeing his father and the attorney alone. “I was gonna ask you if you would go with me. Glad I don’t have to ask. Thanks.” He shook his head slightly. “I seem to be saying that a lot lately.”

“Don’t worry about it. You can make it up to me later.”

Hutch leaned across his desk, motioning Starsky to lean closer as well. His expression was intense, eyes pleading and a little desperate. In a whisper that couldn’t be over heard, Hutch asked, “Promise me something?”

“If I can.” For you, Babe, anything. Anything at all.

“No matter what else happens today, I want you to take me home and fuck me senseless. Want you to fuck me until I can’t remember my own name. Can you promise me that?”

Starsky swallowed hard and licked his lips. The images that flashed before him at Hutch’s request made it hard to concentrate. Breathe, Starsky. Breathe.

“Oh, yeah. I can… I can do that.”

“Good.” Hutch stood up and headed for the door. “Now let’s go see my father.”

Starsky shook himself like a wet dog, trying to erase the image Hutch’s request had immediately brought to mind. C’mon, Starsky. Pull yourself together here. Hutch is going to need your undivided attention.

Starsky joined Hutch at the elevator. He cast a sidelong look at his lover.

“You did that on purpose, didn’t you? To keep me from staying pissed?”

Hutch shrugged. “Yeah. Need you to stay in control. Can’t have you going berserk on anyone, least of all my old man and his lawyer.”

“Not making any promises there, but I will do my best not to lose it.”

“Fair enough. I need you to be there. I can’t do this on my own, Starsky.”

Starsky nodded. He could understand that. Meeting a demon from your past, facing it alone, was never really an option you want to consider. He laid a hand on Hutch’s shoulder and squeezed once, letting Hutch know he was there for him. He wished he could offer more in the way of physical reassurance, but this was most definitely not the place.

Hutch turned to face Starsky. “And just so you know, keeping you from killing someone isn’t the only reason I asked. I’m really going to need that when this day is over with.”

Starsky nodded again. You’re not the only one, Blondie. Not by a long shot.

They stepped into the elevator and pushed the button for the second floor. The ride down was made in silence.

Starsky watched as Hutch closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He straightened his spine and squared his shoulders. His expression gave away very little about what he was thinking.

Bracing himself to meet his father. Starsky sighed, thankful that his own family, while difficult at times, was basically a loving and caring group of people.

Meeting one’s family should be an occasion for joy. It shouldn’t be a situation that you had to be coerced into. Shouldn’t be… but then fathers shouldn’t beat their children either.

“Hey, Hutch?”

“Yeah?”

“Just remember, you’re not alone here. Okay?”

Hutch nodded, his eyes warmed for a moment with gratitude. “I know.”

Together they stepped off the elevator and headed for Interview Room One. An officer waited outside. It was standard procedure to always have an armed guard nearby when a prisoner was out of lock up.

The officer nodded to Hutch and Starsky. “Hutchinson. Starsky.”

“Cooper,” Starsky returned the greeting. He made it a point to remember names and faces. Starsky was proud of the fact that he knew nearly everyone who worked in the building on sight and by name.

Hutch just nodded his head in acknowledgement of the younger cop.

Hutch raised a hand and tapped a knuckle lightly against the door. Hearing permission to enter, he opened the door and walked in. Starsky followed, closing the door behind him.

Two men were seated at the table. Both rose to their feet when Starsky and Hutch entered. The one on the far side of the table, Starsky recognized from the mug shot Dobey had handed to them earlier. Seeing the man in person, Starsky could easily identify him as a relative of Hutch’s.

Although, Hutch’s father was taller and broader, he had definitely passed on his general build to his son. Their hair was the same shade of blond. Starsky figured his lover must have gotten the slightly more delicate bone structure from his mother. Seeing them together, Starsky noted that they shared sufficiently similar facial features to mark them as being related, which accounted for the feeling of recognition Starsky experienced looking at the mug shot. The overall impression was that Hutch was a younger, somewhat smaller version of his father.

Starsky shook his head, wondering how he could have missed the similarities when he’d looked at the mug shot. Should have realized who he was. But then, I didn’t exactly expect Hutch’s old man to show up in one of our cells. Hell, I never expected to run into the man at all.

Starsky glanced at the other man. He was average height, brown hair, brown eyes, and basically unremarkable. He wore the uniform of most lawyers, a suit and tie. The lawyer was younger than Starsky had expected. Looking him over, Starsky decided the man was probably a public defender of some kind.

The lawyer held out his hand to Hutch. “I’m Timothy Knox. And you must be Sergeant Hutchinson. Thank you so much for coming.”

Hutch glanced at the offered hand but made no move to shake it. “How about we just cut to the chase? You want to tell me why I’m here?”

“Well, Sergeant Hutchinson…”

“I asked him to call you,” Hutch’s father broke in. Starsky noticed that Hutch senior spoke with the same soft-cultured voice as his son, although his Mid-West accent was more pronounced.

Hutch raised an eyebrow at his father. “Why?”

“A father can’t want to just see his son?”

Starsky couldn’t help snorting in disbelief. “Yeah, right. Since you haven’t seen him in what? Almost ten years? I could see how you might want to just touch base before letting another ten years pass by.”

The lawyer looked over at Starsky. “And you are?”

“Sergeant David Starsky. Hutch’s partner.”

“I see.” Knox paused as though considering that bit of information. “Well, your presence wasn’t requested at this meeting and I don’t really see the need for you to be here.” Knox smiled at Starsky. It was an oily smile, one that reminded Starsky of a used car salesman, or a politician. “I mean no offense to you, Mr. Starsky, but I really don’t think that you will have anything of substance to add to this meeting. If you could just wait in the hall until we’re finished.”

“No.” Don’t even think of trying to get Hutch and his old man alone together, you little bastard, because that is so not going to happen. Starsky folded his arms across his chest and prepared to settle in for the duration.

“I really think that it would be in my client’s best interest if only his son were present.”

“He stays or we’re done here.” Hutch’s tone was soft, but definitely final. There would be no argument or even a discussion about whether or not Starsky got to stay. Not waiting for an answer, he turned toward the door.

“Wait.” Both Knox and the older Hutchinson spoke at the same time.

Hutch stopped and waited.

“He can stay.”

Hutch nodded and looked at Knox. “This is your meeting and the clock is ticking. You plan to tell me why I’m here?”

“Yes. Of course. Please, won’t you sit down?” Knox waved a hand toward a chair and motioned for the older Hutchinson to resume his seat.

Hutch stepped forward and sat opposite his father. Starsky took the chair next to Hutch, keeping a wary eye on both Hutch’s father and his lawyer.

Man doesn’t look like a monster, but then they never do. Hell, Jimmy Thomas’s father didn’t look like a monster, either. Just goes to prove you really can’t judge people on appearance alone.

The older Hutchinson let his gaze wander over his son. His expression seemed intent, almost eager. “You look good, son.” The older man glanced at Starsky, studying him for a moment. “Got a new partner, I see.”

“Not new. We’ve been partners for years.”

“Don’t remember you mentioning him.”

“I’m not really surprised you don’t remember that,” Hutch said softly. “There’s a lot about my life you don’t seem to remember. That stands to reason, I suppose, since you weren’t there for most of it.”

The older man flinched at that.

Hutch cocked his head to one side, studying his father. “What are you doing in Bay City?”

“I’m in town on business.”

“You were drunk and fighting again.” Hutch’s tone wasn’t accusatory. It was more resigned than anything else.

His father bristled. “Now wait a goddamn minute—”

Hutch held up a hand and shook his head. “Heard it all before. Not interested.”

“It wasn’t like that,” his father insisted.

Hutch just raised an eyebrow. “So how was it then?”

“I wasn’t drunk. I might have had a drink or two, but I wasn’t drunk. That prick of a kid had it in for me from the minute I walked into that bar. He was just looking for a reason to get a fight started.”

“If you say so.” Hutch looked over at Knox. “Tell me why you wanted me here.”

“My client thought that with you being a police officer, you might be able to assist with his case.”

“Uh-huh. Exactly how am I supposed to do that?”

“Now, son, you know you can help me out here. All you have to do is—”

“This isn’t like you got too many parking tickets!” Hutch hissed, clearly outraged by what his father might have been about to suggest. “You beat a kid into a coma! And right now, they don’t know if he’s gonna come out of it.”

“I didn’t mean to hurt that boy. It was an… accident that he got hurt that badly. He fell!”

“An accident?” Hutch asked with blatant disbelief. “Three guys had to pull you off him. You were hitting him with the leg of a chair.” Hutch shook his head. “How in the hell could that be an accident?”

“It wasn’t my fault!”

“When has it ever been your fault?” Starsky heard Hutch mutter, but the older man continued speaking.

“I was just trying to relax. Just having a few drinks and a little fun. I wasn’t bothering anyone. That bouncer comes over and starts getting in my face. He was harassing me! I have a right to enjoy myself. If he wanted to keep things quiet, he should have gone after those snot-nosed punks at the other end of the bar. None of this would have happened if—”

“None of this would have happened if you hadn’t been drunk.” Hutch cut him off sharply.

“Don’t talk back to me.”

“I’m not gonna sit here and listen to you blame everyone else for what you did. You got drunk. You lost your temper. You started a fight and beat a kid into a coma.” Hutch’s voice was level and calm, simply reciting facts. “Because of you and what you did, a young man may never live to be an old man.” Knox leaned forward to speak, but Hutch held up a hand, cutting off whatever he was going to say. “I read the arrest report. I know what happened.”

The older man looked hard at his son. His blue eyes were cold, the anger in his expression was easy to read. Starsky felt an odd déja vu. He’d seen the same expression on his partner more than once.

“You’re my son. I thought you would be willing to help me out here, not go around accusing me or taking sides against me.”

“Yeah, well, I thought you were on the wagon. Guess we’re both disappointed now, aren’t we?”

“Why you little…” Hutch senior stood up. He reached across the table and backhanded his son across the face.

As Hutch rocked back from the force of that blow, Starsky surged to his feet. He reached across the table, capturing the older man’s arm. Starsky pulled, knocking the other man off balance and bringing him within striking distance. Starsky hit him twice with enough force to send the older man reeling. Starsky leaped over the table, following his prey. With his forearm braced firmly against the older man’s throat, he forced him back to the wall and held him there. Savagely, Starsky applied enough force to completely cut off his air. He was intent on slowly choking the man who’d dared to hurt his partner. He felt someone tugging at his arm, but Starsky ignored it. He wasn’t going to be distracted.

It was Hutch’s voice that finally captured his attention. He was speaking softly, right next to him. “Starsky… Starsky. C’mon, now. You have to let him go. Starsky, you have to let him go. He isn’t worth it. You hear me? He isn’t worth it.”

Taking a deep breath, Starsky slowly backed away and let Hutch’s father slide to the floor. The older man was coughing and gagging, rubbing at his throat. Starsky just barely contained the urge to attack the man again. He forced himself to back away another step.

He waited until the downed man made eye contact. “You ever come near Hutch again and I swear to you it will be the last thing you ever do.”

Knox had moved forward to assist his client. Taking the man’s arm, he helped him stand. He watched Starsky warily the entire time. “You really shouldn’t be making threats, Mr. Starsky.”

Starsky grinned evilly. “It wasn’t a threat.”

“I… I see. Well, then…” Knox cleared his throat. “Sergeant Hutchinson, my client would appreciate your assistance in this matter. Having your partner attack him and threaten—”

“The son of a bitch hit my partner!!” Starsky’s eyes narrowed, glaring at Knox. “He’s lucky I didn’t just kill him where he stands.” The only thing that kept him from advancing again was Hutch’s very firm hold on his arm.

“Really, Mr. Starsky, you should learn to control your temper.”

“So should your client. He wouldn’t be here at all if he could,” Hutch pointed out.

Knox winced. “Touché.” He sighed. “Look, I’m just trying to do what’s best for my client. I’m prepared to talk to your superiors—”

“Save it,” Hutch ordered brusquely. “You already played your trump card. Going to the brass, or the press for that matter, won’t help his case. This isn’t the first time he’s been in trouble like this, but it might just be his last.”

Hutch looked at his father, before turning back to Knox. “The man’s an alcoholic with a history of violence. Aaron Mead is just twenty-one years old. He’s a college student who didn’t do anything more than celebrate his birthday. And that might just be the last thing he ever does. There’s no way that any part of this is going look good to the press. My helping or not helping won’t change that.”

“You… ungrateful…little bastard!!” The older Hutchinson wheezed out, glaring daggers at both Starsky and Hutch.

Hutch flinched and then smiled without humor. “Oh, I’m grateful all right. Grateful that the cops were there to pull you off of me when I was sixteen, or I could have ended up like Mead. And I’m real damn grateful that I haven’t seen you in ten years and I probably won’t see you for another ten.”

Hutch took a step forward, his eyes locking with the angry blue eyes of his father. “You should be grateful I didn’t let Starsky kill you. If you were anyone other than my father, I would have.”

Hutch stepped back. “C’mon, Starsky. I think we’re done here.” Hutch headed for the door.

Starsky joined him, keeping a distrustful eye on both Hutch’s father and his lawyer. He still wanted to finish what he started, but Hutch was right, killing his old man wasn’t worth it. No matter how good it might feel, it wouldn’t be worth spending his life in jail. That would mean leaving Hutch and he wasn’t willing to do that. Not now. Not ever.

Hutch opened the door, then stopped, looked back over his shoulder at Knox. “Don’t call me again. I have nothing to say that will help him. And dragging me in will only hurt his case.”

Cooper met them just outside the door. “Everything okay in there?”

“Yeah. Everything’s fine. You can take him back to his cell whenever his lawyer is done with him,” Starsky answered quickly. He wasn’t sure how much the younger officer had heard and he really wasn’t interested in discussing what had happened. And he was fairly certain that Hutch wasn’t going to want to discuss it either.

Together they headed for the elevator. Once inside, Starsky halted Hutch’s reach for the button that would send them back up to the office. He stepped in front of Hutch and when he would have pulled away, Starsky whispered, “Let me see. I want to know you’re okay.”

“You couldn’t just ask me?” There was just a trace of annoyance and exasperation in the question, but his eyes were warm with affection.

I didn’t ask because you’re not always the best judge of your health. Starsky smiled. “Okay. I’ll ask. Are you all right?”

Hutch sighed. “Been hit worse.”

“Doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt.”

“True. I’m okay, Starsky. Honest.”

Starsky noted the bruise beginning to darken Hutch’s left cheek. Yeah, sure he’s fine, he thought sarcastically. Emotionally… well, that’s anyone’s guess.

Starsky noticed Hutch was pale and not quite steady on his feet. Facing his father had taken more out of him than he was likely to admit.

He looks wrung out. That definitely wasn’t a ride we planned to be on today.

Deciding they really didn’t need to go back to work, Starsky hit the button that would take them to the parking garage.

“What are you doing?”

“We’re going home.”

“Excuse me?”

“I said we’re going home.” When it looked like Hutch might argue, Starsky placed a finger against Hutch’s mouth. “Look, we’ve already logged more overtime this week than regular hours. We finished all the paperwork for the Thomas case. We didn’t get lunch. And this meeting with your father was just… well, a lot more than either of us planned on today. So, we’re going home.”

Hutch pulled Starsky’s fingers away from his mouth. “What about Dobey?”

Starsky shrugged. “We’ll call him.”

Hutch smiled, his eyes warm, his color gradually improving. “You like living dangerously, don’t you?”

“Dobey will be fine with it once we explain what happened.”

“I’d rather not tell him anything at all.”

“I know,” Starsky said softly. “It’s not the sort of thing you want to air in public, but Knox might say something. So might your father. Or Cooper.” Starsky shrugged. “I don’t think he’d have much to say, but gossip tends to circulate in the building better than the air conditioning.”

“Good point.”

“It’ll be better if he hears from us what happened.”

“Shouldn’t we do that in person?”

“Nah. If we do it in person, he’ll just rip into me… or you.” No way in hell am I going to let someone else have another shot at you today. Not going to happen!

“You don’t think he can rip us a new asshole over the phone?” Hutch asked, looking at Starsky like he had lost his mind.

“Sure. But we can always put the phone down, or hang up on him.”

Hutch chuckled. “Oh, I can see that helping the whole situation. Lots and lots.”

Starsky laughed. “Won’t help, but I can’t see where it could hurt.” Seeing Hutch’s expression, Starsky amended that statement. “Okay, so hanging up on him wouldn’t be the smartest thing I’ve ever done, but standing in his office to say all this wouldn’t be a whole lot smarter.”

“How much we gonna tell him?”

“How much do you want him to know?” Starsky was willing to let Hutch make this call. Hell, it was his past, his story. If he doesn’t want him to know all of it, then that’s the way we’ll play it.

Hutch sighed. “I might as well tell him all of it, the whole sordid story. The Hutchinson family history at its best… or worst, depending on how you look at it. Don’t want him to get blindsided if that idiot Knox does decide to push it. And he’ll be willing to back me if he knows why.”

“He’d go to bat for you even without the details.” Of that Starsky was certain.

Hutch smiled slightly. “Yeah, I know. But it wouldn’t be right to ask him to stand up for me if I wasn’t willing to tell him why I needed him to.”

Starsky easily recognized his partner’s sense of fair play in that statement. He wouldn’t ask a friend to do anything for him without making sure they knew why he was asking, what he needed, and just how much he expected of them. His sense of honor would demand that Dobey have all the details, so that he was free to say yes or no, as his own conscious would dictate. It was another of his partner’s old-fashioned traits that Starsky found admirable. Must have been his grandparent’s influence on him.

“You want me to tell him?” Starsky thought it might be easier for Hutch if he was the one to fill their boss in. Recounting all the gory details would be painful and there wasn’t any reason for putting Hutch through all that if it wasn’t absolutely necessary.

“You would do that?”

“For you… I’d do anything.”

Hutch reached out and pulled Starsky into a fierce hug. “Thank you.”

“Anytime. It’s what I’m here for,” Starsky whispered.

They quickly separated when the elevator pinged and the doors opened. Together they exited, in step with each other as always, heading for the Torino.

Concerned, Starsky looked Hutch over. “You sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah. Just a little… distracted.”

Starsky could understand that. The whole day wasn’t really something either of them had been prepared for. Starsky fired up the Torino and headed for the beach. Right now, they could both use the peace and quiet that was always found there. He’d gotten used to thinking of the beach house as a place of refuge.

Starsky pulled into the driveway, feeling better for just being there.

“I need to take a walk.”

Starsky nodded. “While you do that, I’ll call Dobey.”

“David?”

“Yeah?” Starsky paused, waiting for Hutch to continue.

“Did I tell you lately that I love you?”

Starsky smiled and placed a warm, tender kiss on Hutch’s mouth. “Love you, too, Babe. Now go. Take your time. I’ll have everything straightened out by the time you’re done.”

Starsky went into the house, while Hutch headed for the beach. He quickly dialed Dobey’s number. The sooner this was over with the better. Starsky began speaking the minute he answered the phone, not giving him a chance to interrupt. He lined out what had happened, from the call Hutch received to them leaving the station.

Dobey was as outraged as Starsky, if not more so, when he heard that Hutch’s father had struck him. He wasn’t happy with Starsky, hearing that he’d evened the score by punching the older man. He understood his reaction; he just wasn’t happy with his loss of control.

Starsky chose not to mention that Hutch’s father had abused him as a child thinking it would be a case of Hutch’s word against his father’s. But he did tell him that the man had nearly beaten Hutch to death when he was sixteen. Starsky knew that was a matter of public record since Hutch’s father had actually done time for that offence, albeit only nine months. And the restraining order was likely to still be on file somewhere.

Dobey already knew that Hutch hadn’t lived with his father since he was sixteen; all Starsky did was fill him in on why. Starsky recounted the similarities between what happened to Mead last night and what had nearly happened to Hutch.

As Starsky had expected, Dobey’s only concern was that Hutch was okay. He was fiercely protective of all his people, but he and Hutch held a special place in the captain’s heart. He would go to bat for them every time.

“You’re sure he’s okay?”

Starsky shrugged, forgetting for a moment that Dobey couldn’t see him. “At the moment… he’s doing all right.”

“Someone should stay with him just to be sure.” Dobey sighed. “He probably won’t want anyone hanging around, but he really shouldn’t be on his own. Starsky, can you stay with him? If you can’t, I could swing by—”

“I’m staying.” Starsky’s voice was firm. “Don’t worry. I’ll keep an eye on him.”

“Thanks, Starsky. See if you can get him to take tomorrow off. And call me before the two of you come in Wednesday. I’ll let you know if there’s anything you need to know before you get here.”

“Will do.” Starsky hung up. Well, that went better than I expected. Now, where the hell is Hutch?

Starsky stepped out the back door, knowing he could see most of the beach from the back porch. He spotted Hutch standing on the beach looking out over the water.

Starsky headed over. He wrapped his arms around Hutch from behind, holding him in a loose hug and rested his chin on his lover’s shoulder.

“You get everything squared away with Dobey?”

“Yeah. Told him what happened with your old man. He was pissed that I’d hit him, but understood why I did. Didn’t give him the whole family history, though. Just told him about what happened when you were sixteen. Figured there was still an official record for that somewhere. Thought it would be something he could use if that fool, Knox, decides to make good on going to the brass. He’s willing to go to bat for you no matter what happens. Don’t think we’ve got to worry about having to deal with anything on that front.

Hutch just nodded. “Did he say anything else?”

“Just that we should take tomorrow off.”

“What for?”

“He’s worried about you. It’s only been two weeks since you’ve been cleared for more than light duty. The Thomas case wasn’t exactly a walk in the park… for either of us. He knows that. And this stuff with your father…Well, Dobey just wants to make sure you’re okay. A little down time is probably a good idea.”

Hutch sighed, and leaned back into Starsky. “I’m not some China doll, you know.”

“No. You’re just human.”

Hutch chuckled and settled more firmly into Starsky’s embrace. They stood like that for several minutes, just absorbing the peace and quiet around them and being close to each other.

“You going to make good on your promise?”

Starsky smiled. “What promise would that be?”

“You know what promise.” Hutch’s voice grew a little rough and husky.

Hearing that, Starsky shivered. Love it when his voice does that.  Starsky breathed in his lover’s scent. God, but he smells good. I could make a fortune if I could bottle the way he smells and sell it as an aphrodisiac.

He sucked on Hutch’s ear lobe and then blew across it. Starsky grinned when he heard Hutch’s faint gasp of pleasure.

Hutch began shifting his weight from one leg to the other, swaying his hips back and forth, brushing his ass repeatedly against Starsky’s groin. The friction between Hutch’s jeans and Starsky’s made Starsky sigh and lean in close, encouraging more contact. They swayed together slowly, lost in the sensations.

Finally, Starsky turned Hutch so he could kiss him. A deep, passionate kiss that left them both breathless when they managed to break apart. Starsky smiled wickedly, enjoying the sight of Hutch’s flushed skin, ragged breathing, shirt half undone, pupils so large his eyes were black.  Lord have mercy, but he’s beautiful.

“You want to take this into the house?” Starsky asked, when he managed to find his voice.

Hutch took a breath. He swallowed hard. ”That would… probably be a… good idea.”

They headed for the house arm in arm. Starsky let his hand drift from Hutch’s shoulder to his ass. He could feel his partner tremble under his touch.

Once inside, Starsky pinned Hutch against the door and tilted his head to kiss him. Their tongues engaged in a lazy duel, thoroughly exploring each other. If I live to be a hundred, I’ll never get enough of this.

Hutch’s hands slid down Starsky’s body to cup his ass. He kneaded gently, encouraging Starsky to make slow, leisurely thrusts with his hips and with reluctance, Starsky pulled away. Hutch whimpered at the lost of contact and opened his eyes. “Bedroom.”

Hutch took a deep, shaky breath and nodded. He toed out of his shoes, leaving them near the door. He took Starsky’s hand and pulled him toward the bedroom. He pushed Starsky toward the bed. “Sit.”

Starsky raised an eyebrow, but sat without saying a word. He watched with hungry eyes as Hutch slowly undid the remaining buttons on his shirt. He reached out to touch, but Hutch stepped away. “Wait.”

Hutch gracefully shrugged out of his shirt, letting it fall to the floor. His hands roamed over his chest, tweaking and rubbing his already erect nipples. Hutch’s eyes closed to mere slits in obvious pleasure.

Starsky took a shuddering breath, watching Hutch, struggling to stay in control. God…. God. He looks do incredibly sexy.

Hutch stepped forward and then sunk easily to his knees, ending up between Starsky’s legs. He leaned forward and began to slowly unbutton Starsky’s shirt with his teeth. His hands were busy undoing Starsky’s pants. Starsky had never gotten around to asking Hutch how he learned to do that with his teeth and right at the moment he didn’t really give a damn. It felt good and that was all that mattered.

Starsky let his hands roam freely over Hutch’s torso. Enjoying both the feel, as well as the breathy sighs and faint moans of pleasure it drew from his lover. Hutch reached up to slide Starsky’s shirt off and then place his palm flat against Starsky’s chest. With a little push, he had Starsky lying on his back.

“Lift up.”

Starsky raised his hips off the bed enough for Hutch to remove his briefs and jeans. He pushed himself further on to the bed, expecting Hutch to join him. Instead, Hutch stepped back. Just far enough to give him room to shimmy out of his jeans.

Starsky shuddered once watching Hutch wiggle his hips provocatively and gracefully bend to finally remove the last of his clothes.

With a seductive smile, Hutch joined Starsky on the bed. He dipped his head to suck on that spot just below Starsky’s ear that always made him go weak in the knees. He nibbled and licked his way down Starsky’s neck to his chest, leaving a trail of fire in his wake.

Starsky thrust up with his hips and rolled them over. He laved first one hard pink nub and then the other. Hutch arched his back and let out a long sigh that came out sounding like a purr. Starsky was careful not to spend too much time on his lover’s sensitive nipples. He didn’t want this to end just yet.

He reached for the lube that was on the nightstand. Popping the top, he coated his fingers. He inserted one in to Hutch’s tight, incredibly hot hole. Hutch moaned and rocked his hips back, fucking himself slowly on Starsky’s finger.

Starsky nibbled on the pulse point that was exposed when Hutch tipped his head back. He inserted another finger. He smiled into Hutch’s neck hearing another of those purring sighs. Starsky lifted his head seeking out Hutch’s mouth.

They shared a deep kiss, tongues dueling briefly. He inserted a third finger, brushing Hutch’s prostate as he did it. Hutch shuddered and hugged Starsky hard. Starsky stroked his prostate again.

“God… David… that feels… so good.” Hutch began to tremble. His breathing so ragged, he was almost sobbing.

“Easy, Babe. I got you.” Starsky reassured his lover, easing his stroking fingers, backing off what he knew was very intense for Hutch. After a minute or so, he withdrew his fingers completely.

Hutch whimpered. “Please… David.” Hutch arched his back in response to Starsky lowering his head to suck one nipple. “God… David… Please.”

“Please what?”

“Please… I need you inside… me.”

Starsky quickly lubed his own throbbing cock. He was leaking so much that the lube probably wasn’t really necessary. With one smooth roll of his hips, Starsky slid his cock home into Hutch’s tight heat. He moaned when Hutch wrapped his legs around Starsky’s hips, letting him sink in even deeper.

For a second neither of them moved, enjoying the feeling of being so totally connected. Starsky raised his head and rested his forehead against Hutch’s.

Hutch opened his eyes and the love and lust Starsky could read in their depths made it hard to catch his breath.

With a groan, Starsky began to move. His hips began moving in that timeless, passionate rhythm. Hutch’s hips matching his with each thrust and withdrawal.

Starsky kissed Hutch while getting a hand between them to stroke Hutch’s weeping cock. He matched their speed and stroke without even thinking about it.

Hutch broke the kiss, his head going back, eyes closed, breath coming in harsh pants. Starsky nibbled at the exposed pulse point, sucking hard enough to leave a mark. He increased the speed of his thrusts, knowing both of them were near climax.

Rising slightly, Starsky altered the angle enough so that he could strike Hutch’s prostate each time. He could feel tremors beginning to rack his lover’s lean frame. “Come on, Babe. Come for me. Come for me.” Starsky whispered encouraging his lover to let go.

“David… Jesus… I’m gonna… Oh, God… DAVID!!” Hutch came with a harsh shout, his whole body going tense and trembling so hard he felt like he was vibrating.

Starsky felt himself responding to those inner muscle contractions. Seconds later he came so hard he saw stars behind his eyes.

Starsky collapsed, his breath coming in harsh gasps. He felt practically boneless, incredibly heavy and yet weightless at the same time. He’d never expected that sex with Hutch would just keep getting better and better, but it did.

Finally his heart rate slowed and his breathing was back to normal. With a great deal of effort, Starsky managed to lever himself off Hutch’s chest and look at his lover. Hutch was wearing a vacant, contented, totally sated expression.

Hutch slowly opened his eyes to look at Starsky and smiled. The love and affection in that smile were nearly blinding in their intensity. Starsky felt like he was basking in the rays of the sun.

Hutch pulled Starsky’s head back down to rest on his chest. It felt good to just lie there listening to Hutch’s steady heartbeat. He snuggled in closer. At that moment, all was right with the world. Starsky knew it wasn’t a feeling that would last for long, but he didn’t really care. He knew they were both willing to enjoy it for as long as it lasted.

For now, nothing else in the world existed but the two of them. When the feeling faded, then they would deal with the rest. He could feel Hutch drifting off to sleep. With a sigh, Starsky knew he’d be joining him shortly.

“Sleep well, Babe. Sleep well.”

 

Chapter 7

Starsky pulled into the driveway and parked the Torino. He pulled the grocery bag containing supplies for dinner out of the car and headed for the door. He’d swung by the local farmer’s market on the way home, wanting fresh vegetables. Fresh always made for the best meal. And Starsky knew how particular Hutch was about the ingredients he used to cook with. He didn’t bother searching for the house key, knowing that Hutch was expecting him. The door would be unlocked. Hell, I don’t think he even locks the thing half the time anyway. Starsky shook his head. Another thing different about us. I’d never leave my door unlocked, no matter how safe the neighborhood was supposed to be.

Starsky headed for the kitchen to unpack the groceries before seeking out his lover. For the first time that week they had actually managed to leave work at a normal hour. Starsky knew Hutch would head straight for the beach to jog. For Hutch, jogging served as the same kind of stress-reducing therapy that Starsky got from working out. A good demanding workout was just what he needed to rid himself of the stress, tension, and worry of the past few days. Starsky’s work out had run longer and been more intense because of it and he suspected Hutch would probably still be running.

Starsky contemplated the past few days as he put away the groceries. Meeting Hutch’s father had been anything but pleasant. Although, Starsky decided since he hadn’t actually killed the man who’d abused his lover as a child, the meeting went better than it could have. Still, when Hutch Sr. had backhanded Hutch, Starsky had briefly lost it.

He refused to feel guilty about that momentary lapse. Only hit him twice. Choked him a little. Okay…a lot. Son-of-a-bitch is lucky I didn’t just beat the shit out of him when I had the chance. No one attacks my partner, my friend. No one.

Starsky took a deep breath and forced himself to let it go. It was done. No point in focusing on it. So far there had been no negative repercussions from that meeting. The lawyer hadn’t called again and the brass hadn’t gotten involved, yet.

Starsky couldn’t shake the feeling that some how all that was about to change. His skin tingled the way it did when a case was about to break. And he found himself more on edge, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Starsky suspected Hutch felt the same way. Over the past week, he’d gotten very quiet. Not that he was ever what one would call talkative, but since meeting with his father, Hutch had become even more silent and withdrawn. Starsky had tried to respect Hutch’s unvoiced request for space.

It was difficult not to force some kind of reaction, but he knew pushing Hutch would only make him withdraw further. So Starsky marshaled what little patience he could lay claim to and waited to see how long his lover would try to stay encased in that invisible emotional shield. It couldn’t be too much longer because Starsky was running out of patience.

With the groceries put away, Starsky went in search of his partner. He spotted Hutch’s gun and holster hanging by the door. Now that’s odd. He isn’t in the house, but he almost never goes anywhere without his gun since the incident in Sacramento, not even jogging.

Feeling a vague sense of foreboding, Starsky stepped outside. He found Hutch on the back porch sitting on the swing. Starsky knew immediately something was wrong when he caught sight of the half empty bottle of brandy sitting on the porch and the full glass tumbler his lover was holding. Starsky knew Hutch kept hard liquor in the house, but he didn’t see him drink it very often, if ever. Shit! This is the first time I’ve ever seen him drink anything stronger than beer at home.

“Hutch?” Starsky asked quietly. “You okay?”

Hutch took a deep breath and sighed softly. He glanced over at Starsky, his eyes sad and his expression thoughtful. “I thought I’d have gotten used to it by now.”

“Used to what?” Starsky was confused, unsure of how to take that statement. It wasn’t exactly what he had been expecting but he was willing to go with it. At least Hutch was talking.

“The idea that being an innocent bystander doesn’t guarantee you’ll be allowed to just stand by. Thought I’d be used to it by now.”

“I’m not following you here, Blondie.” Starsky watched his partner warily. Hutch smiled sadly. He lifted his glass and drained it in one long swallow.

“Aaron Meade died today.”

Oh, hell. Aaron was the 21-year old college student that Hutch’s father had beaten into a coma. The day after meeting with the senior Hutchinson, Hutch had contacted the hospital and requested that he be notified if there were any changes in the boy’s condition. Because he was a cop, the hospital never even questioned why he would want to know; they simply agreed to keep him notified. With Aaron dead, that meant Hutch’s father was going to be charged with murder.

Starsky shook his head trying to get a handle on the implications. Damn. When it rains it pours. Seeing nothing more was forthcoming, Starsky finally asked, “When?”

Hutch shrugged one shoulder. He refilled his glass, setting the bottle down on the porch before he taking a sip. “Don’t know when. Must have been some time late this afternoon. At least that’s when the message was left on the machine. The light was blinking when I came in from my run.”

The answering machine was a recent addition to the house. Hutch bought it in case the department, or Starsky, needed to reach him. Still, he was surprised that Hutch had even thought to check it. Most of the time Hutch seemed to forget it was even there so Starsky usually checked the messages.

“There was another message.”

Starsky recognized that flat tone of voice. This wasn’t going to be good news.

Bracing himself for the worst, Starsky smiled grimly. “Lay it on me.”

“Chief of Police wants to see both of us first thing tomorrow, about our meeting with Knox and my Dad.”

Starsky reached out and took the glass from Hutch. He took a large swallow, feeling the liquor burn all the way down. God. Knew there was a reason I didn’t drink brandy. Taking a deep breath, Starsky handed the glass back to his partner. “Any possibility these two messages aren’t related?”

“Not a snowballs chance in hell.”

“Think Knox called him?”

Hutch shrugged. “Probably. With the boy dying, the stakes in this just went up considerably.” Starsky sighed. He motioned Hutch to move over so he could join him on the swing.

Starsky sat down and casually stretched an arm across the back and pulled Hutch against him, was relieved when, instead of fighting him, Hutch simply leaned in to accept the comfort he offered.

“I’m sorry, Starsk.”

“For what?”

“For getting you dragged into all of this.”

Starsky smiled softly and turned his head to place a kiss in Hutch’s hair. “You didn’t drag me anywhere, Blondie.”

“But, if it wasn’t for me—”

“But nothing. Hutch, I love you. Even if I didn’t, you are my partner and my friend. No way I’d leave you to handle this on your own. No way.”

Hutch shifted closer and sighed. “Still sorry, Starsk.”

“I know,” Starsky whispered. “So am I.”

Hutch pulled away enough to tilt his head back, his eyes seeking Starsky’s. “You didn’t do anything you need to be sorry for.”

“Neither did you.”

Hutch shrugged and shifted his gaze away. “I’m not so sure about that.”

Starsky knew he was going to have to tread lightly if he wanted this conversation to continue. Since it was the first real conversation they’d had in a week, Starsky definitely didn’t want it to end now. I need him to tell me what’s wrong. I cant help if he won’t talk to me. And I don’t want him to go back to brooding again.

“What is it that you think you did?” Starsky asked softly. Hutch winced slightly, looking remorseful and vaguely guilty. He would have pulled away but Starsky maintained the hold on his chin keeping him gently, but firmly in place. He maintained eye contact, not letting Hutch look away.

“It wasn’t what I did, Starsk. It was what I didn’t do.”

Ah… Think I got it. “You think you should have done something about your father? Something that could have kept Meade from getting killed?”

“I know better than anyone what he’s capable of. He damn near killed me and I didn’t do anything to keep him off the streets.”

“Like what? What is it exactly that you think you should have done?” Starsky asked calmly. Hutch shifted restlessly. Starsky knew he wanted to pull away, but he continued to maintain his hold. He needed Hutch to listen to him.

“You were sixteen when he beat the crap out of you. A minor. Lawyers were making deals. The court decided what was best for you and him. They chose to send him to jail for nine months, issue a restraining order and to let you stay with your Grandmother. There wasn’t anything you could have done then.”

“I’m not a kid anymore. Haven’t been for a long time, Starsk. Just ’cause I didn’t do anything then doesn’t mean I shouldn’t have done something later.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know!” Hutch jerked out of Starsky’s hold and stood, tossing the glass tumbler violently. It shattered against the side of the house with an almost musical tinkle of breaking glass.

“I just wish to hell I’d done something. Anything! Jesus, Starsky, do you realize how many times that he was on the road drunk? How many bar fights he was in? Christ! The man was a menace. It was only a matter of time before somebody got hurt.”

Hutch shuddered violently. He wrapped his arms around himself tightly, backing away from Starsky. When he spoke again his voice was barely above a whisper. “I was just so damn relieved that I didn’t have to be around him anymore. I didn’t have to worry about him hitting me or taking it out on my Grandmother. I could sleep at night without worrying about what kind of mood he’d be in when he got home, or if I should be ready to hide. I didn’t have to talk to him but once a year. I forgot that he was out there doing the same shit. That he could be doing to someone else what he did to me.”

Starsky stood up and moved toward Hutch, wanting to offer comfort, hating the fact that his lover had suffered in any way. He stopped when Hutch shied away. Okay. Let’s keep a little distance for now. What happened to Meade was not his fault. I just need for him to see that.

“Hutch, you said that the court ordered your father not to see you or speak to you while you were a minor. Right?”

Hutch nodded, his eyes focused on the porch, his voice low. “It was part of his sentencing agreement.”

Starsky took a small step closer, pitching his voice in a soft, conversational tone. “From the time you were sixteen until you were…what? Eighteen, nineteen…you didn’t hear from him?”

Hutch shook his head. “Didn’t hear from him directly until I was a senior in college. The tuition was paid by his lawyer. I was almost twenty-two. He called after I played in my first bowl game. Wanted to congratulate me on playing so well.”

“So for roughly six years you didn’t know where he was or what he was doing?”

Hutch nodded. “Didn’t even recognize his voice at first.”

Starsky took another step. He could almost touch his lover, but resisted the urge to do so. Hutch still looked wary. Careful, Starsky. Take it slow.

“When did you hear from him after that?”

“A year later. On my birthday.”

“Has that been the pattern ever since? He calls you only on your birthday?”

“Pretty much. Didn’t call regularly until after I graduated from the police academy. Then it was mostly to tell me how he thought I was just wasting my life. Oh, he’d ask stuff about me. How the job was going, who I was partnered with, how things were with Vanessa when she and I were married. The conversations didn’t last long. A couple of minutes at most.”

Starsky stepped forward again. “And the last time you saw him was when you graduated from the academy?”

“Yeah. And, only then, so he could tell me to my face how I wasted my life. I didn’t see him after that until last week.”

Starsky reached out slowly hoping his gesture would be accepted. Relieved that his lover was no longer pulling away, Starsky let his hand ghost down Hutch’s jaw until he could place it under his chin. Starsky gently urged his lover’s head up to make eye contact.

Hutch shivered and hugged himself tighter. “Just feel like I should have handled it long before now. No one else would have gotten hurt. If I hadn’t been such a coward—”

“You are not a coward.” Starsky stated softly, but firmly.

“Don’t know what else to call it, Starsk.” Hutch’s voice was very quiet. “I was willing to ignore it, afraid to do anything that would bring him back into my life. As long as I wasn’t the one getting hurt, I didn’t see the need to do anything.”

“Hutch, there wasn’t anything for you to do. You only spoke to the man once a year…for a few minutes at a time. You haven’t seen him in a decade. How were you supposed to keep him from doing anything? While you were in school there really wasn’t any way you could have gotten him off the streets. You didn’t even know where he was. And he wasn’t breaking any laws, at least not that you could prove, so it wasn’t like you could just arrest him, no matter how much you might have wanted to. The man is an alcoholic. It would have to be his decision to stop drinking. He would have to be the one to admit he had a problem. It had to be his choice to get help. There wasn’t anything you could do. And there isn’t anything you can do that will change that.” Starsky searched Hutch’s eyes, willing him to believe. “What happened to Aaron Meade was not your fault. Only one to blame here is your father. You are not responsible for his actions.”

Hutch took a shaky breath, his arms still tightly wrapped around himself. “You really believe that?”

“I do.” Starsky’s voice was adamant. “Not a doubt in my mind on that score.”

Hutch leaned in and whispered ‘thank you’ against Starsky’s lips before finally opening his arms, enfolding his partner in a loving embrace. After a few minutes, Starsky pulled away. He cradled Hutch’s face with both hands and searched his eyes. “This is what you’ve been brooding about for the past week?”

“Yeah.” Hutch glanced away, and then back. “Mostly.”

“You want to tell me the rest?”

Hutch took a deep breath and stepped back. His expression was apprehensive. “I was worried that this whole situation was going hurt you.”

Starsky raised an eyebrow. “Hurt me? How?”

“I assumed that eventually we were going to get a call about what happened when we met with Dad and his lawyer. I knew the brass was bound to get involved and I don’t want you to get in trouble. It was my fault.”

“How is any of this your fault?” Damn. Thought we had that settled.

“You were only there because of me.”

“I was there for you, not because of you. My choice. And I’d make the same one again.”

Hutch cocked his head to one side, studying Starsky. “This could get ugly, Starsk. Real ugly. End your career ugly, if the brass chooses to make it that way.”

Hutch took a deep breath and seemed to brace himself. Starsky could almost see him weighing his words before he spoke. Whatever it was he had to say, Starsky was sure it wasn’t going to be something either of them really wanted to hear.

“Depending on how it goes tomorrow… Our being together might come out. Not really how I’d choose to do it. Not even sure if I’d choose to do it at all. So, if you wanted to back out, or changed your mind about us, I’d understand. I know this really isn’t what you signed on for and if you wanted to call it off…go our separate ways, well…it’s okay.”

Starsky felt stunned. Back out? Change my mind? What in the hell is he talking about? Starsky gasped. “You want to put an end to us?” His voice holding all the hurt and surprise he felt.

“NO!” Hutch swallowed hard and then hung his head. He looked up, his expression earnest. “I don’t want…That isn’t what …God, Starsky, you’re the best thing in my life. I don’t ever want to lose that.”

Hutch waved one elegant, long-fingered hand in a meaningless gesture of frustration. Starsky could feel his lover trying to find the right words. Hutch took a deep breath and tried again to explain.

“Thing is…well, this wasn’t what you expected when we got together. It isn’t fair to make you to deal with this. It isn’t right. No one else has ever….I mean the stuff between my father and me isn’t exactly Norman Rockwell. Not the kind of thing too many people would want to stick around for. And us being a couple could…well, you know why we agreed to keep that quiet. Made sense at the time and it still does. None of those reasons have changed. Dobey could split us up. Some of the people at work would be okay with you and me but you know as well as I do, there would be a lot who wouldn’t be. Too damn risky wondering if your backup is gonna show or not, wondering who you can count on.”

Starsky forced himself to take a deep breath, letting go of the momentary flash of panic and pain he had when he thought Hutch was asking him to leave. He forced himself to listen for what Hutch was trying to say without reacting first and thinking later. Okay. Think this through, Starsky. He is trying to tell you it’s all right to bail out on him because of this crap with his father. Hell, he expects me to bail because everyone else has in the past. That we might be outed is just an added concern. He’s trying to make sure I’d be okay with that…or let me bow out gracefully, if I’m not. He doesn’t want me to leave, but he is giving me the chance to leave, if I want it. Well, I don’t want it. I’m staying.

“We’re together for the long haul. This is an endurance run, a marathon. Remember? Bound to be a few rough spots. As long as we’re together, there isn’t anything we can’t handle.” Starsky shrugged, trying to appear more relaxed than he felt. “Nothing about you has ever been quite what I’ve expected. But so far, I can’t say that I’ve been disappointed.”

“You’re sure?” Hutch looked less apprehensive than he had but still in need of reassurance.

“I am very sure. Love you, Blondie. And being loved by you makes it all worthwhile. Nothing, and I do mean nothing, will ever change that.”

Hutch smiled, his eyes sparkling for the first time in a week. It warmed Starsky, right down to his toes.

Hutch stared at Starsky in wonder; like it was the first time he’d ever seen him. “What did I do to deserve you?”

“Whatever it was, I’m sure it was very good.”

Hutch laughed lightly and drew Starsky in for another hug. “Must have been ’cause you are a real godsend, my friend. A genuine treasure.”

Starsky hugged him back; enjoying being close without feeling the residual tension that had been hovering below the surface all week. It felt so natural to be this connected, on the same page and in sync once more. He nuzzled Hutch’s neck, breathing in his scent. God, but I’ve missed this.

“We okay here, Blondie?”

“Yeah. I think we are.”

“Good. In the future, will you please just come to me? You don’t have to deal with this alone. Don’t do this silence thing. Talk to me. Okay?”

Hutch nodded. “I’ll try. Promise. Not used to having someone willing to share things. Especially when it comes to my father.”

“I know. And I’m sorry for that.” Starsky hugged Hutch harder. Hutch responded by snuggling closer and relaxing against Starsky.

Starsky smiled, realizing he wasn’t the only one who’d missed being close. He kissed his partner’s cheek before letting go. “Let’s go see what we can do about dinner. Shall we?”

Hutch nodded. He walked over to pick up the bottle of brandy before moving to follow Starsky into the house. Seeing the bottle, Starsky gave Hutch a hard look.

“Just how much of that did you drink?”

“Not all that much.”

Starsky raised an eyebrow. “The bottle is half empty, Hutch.”

Hutch quirked a half-smile at him. “Pessimist. Could just as easily be half full.”

“Hutch.” Starsky’s voice carried a warning. He wasn’t going to be put off from his original question.

Hutch ducked his head slightly. “It wasn’t full when I started. I don’t really like brandy.”

Starsky frowned. “Then why were you drinking it?” he asked heading for the kitchen.

Hutch shrugged. “I didn’t want to get drunk, just wanted something with a bite to it.”

Starsky nodded. He could understand that. It was the same reason he’d taken the glass from Hutch earlier. Feeling that burn was exactly what he’d needed, even if he hadn’t actually enjoyed it. There was something to be said for the shock value of hard liquor.

Starsky set the table while Hutch made dinner. He put a bottle of water on the table for each of them. Even if he didn’t drink that much brandy, he still doesn’t need any more alcohol.

Together they sat down to eat. Now that they were communicating again, Starsky didn’t want to let silence dominate the meal the way it had for the past few days. He missed the easy camaraderie that had become a normal part of their evening meal. Starsky hesitated. He wasn’t quite ready to delve into deep topics just yet and not interested in talking about work. Find something light, something easy for both of us.

“So, that kid from the big brother program, Jessie is it? How’s he coming with batting practice?” Starsky asked as he passed the salad to Hutch. Hutch’s smile told Starsky his partner knew exactly what he was doing by asking the question. He could tell his partner was trying to get him to relax and focus on something else.

“He’s getting there. Catches on pretty quickly,” Hutch said as he watched Starsky actually take some of the salad. He was making progress in getting his lover to eat healthier. There was a time when Starsky wouldn’t have even considered eating what he referred to as “rabbit food.”

“He still strikes out sometimes but he’s really learning to keep his eye on the ball and he hit two homeruns last week. He says he wants to turn pro when he gets out of college. Hell, we’ve made a lot of progress on that score. It wasn’t that long ago that he was talking about dropping out of high school as soon as he was old enough. Now he’s talking about trying for an athletic scholarship.”

“You’ve been a good influence on him, Hutch. When did you learn to play ball? I mean, it’s sort of world’s apart from what you’re family wanted you to end up doing, isn’t it?”

“Worlds apart.” Hutch agreed as he sat back, relaxing into his chair. “I learned to play baseball from my grandfather. When he was young he played in the minor league.”

Starsky almost choked, trying to reconcile the image in the picture Hutch showed him of his elderly grandfather with the idea of playing baseball. “Your Grandfather?”

Hutch nodded. “Uh-huh. He was good at it. He had a whole box full of trophies he earned in High School and college. He gave up the idea when he married my Grandmother. That’s when he settled down and joined the Sheriffs office. Said he had responsibilities now that he was married and he had better put up his childish dreams and fulfill those responsibilities. But I think he always wondered ‘What If?'”

Starsky realized that Hutch was speaking of the man when he was in his early twenties but he still couldn’t wrap his mind around the idea that the elderly man in the picture was the same man Hutch was talking about now. Starsky shook his head. “I can’t quite picture him doing that.”

Hutch pushed his chair away from the table, shoving his plate toward the center.

“Give me a minute to find some pictures and you won’t have to use your imagination.

Hutch headed for the bedroom. He rummaged briefly in the wooden trunk that sat at the foot of his bed, before returning with a small box. He placed the box on the table and sifted through a few pictures before handing several to Starsky.

The first one was an eight by ten of a man in his late teens or early twenties. He was wearing an ancient looking baseball uniform. His smile was warm, openly joyful, eyes bright and shining. Starsky could easily make out the resemblance to the man in the picture Hutch kept hanging in the hallway, the one taken just a few months before his grandfather died. Wow. That looks just like a picture of Hutch.

The next photo showed him with his teammates. He looked focused and eager, clearly ready to take on the challenge presented. In the third picture the photographer had captured him just as he swung the bat. Whoever had taken that shot had done an outstanding job of capturing the moment. Starsky could easily feel the energy and action of the minute the picture was taken.

“That was the day grandpa hit three consecutive home runs, ” Hutch said proudly as he smiled down at the photo. He handed another one to Starsky. In this one the man was a lot older. Standing next to him was a small, blond haired boy who couldn’t be more than three years old. The boy was grinning broadly, holding a baseball. Starsky took a closer look. It was Hutch. He raised an eyebrow. He had always wondered if his lover hadn’t exaggerated when he said he’d learned to play ball almost before he learned to walk. But apparently he hadn’t exaggerated at all.

Hutch glanced at the photo fondly, his eyes distant, focused on the past. His fingertips gently brushed the picture, ghosting down the image of his grandfather.

“He was such a good man. He always believed in me and taught me how to believe in myself. I cried for weeks when he died. Damn near killed me.”

Hutch tended to take a practical, almost pragmatic approach to life, so it was rare that he expressed much sentiment about anything. It wasn’t that he didn’t feel things deeply or care. He just didn’t always express it verbally. Starsky had learned quickly that his lover was more inclined to show affection rather than talk about it. He said, “I love you” with his touch and with his actions. His way of dealing with pain, physical and emotional, was to either ignore it or simply accept it as a part of life and move on. He didn’t make a show of it, or even acknowledge it, not wanting to draw attention to himself in any way. Starsky figured that Hutch’s father had a lot to do with that particular trait. Starsky had seen Hutch take a bullet without so much as a whimper, so he knew he must have been devastated to cry. Not sure if he should end this conversation or encourage it to continue, Starsky asked softly, “Did you get to spend a lot of time with him?”

“Every chance I got. He taught me almost as much about life as he did about baseball.” Hutch reached into the box for another photo. In this one, Hutch looked to be about eleven or twelve. He was wearing his little league uniform. Hutch’s expression was the same intent, focused look Starsky had often seen on his partner’s face when he was concentrating on or working out some detail of a case.

The next photo Hutch handed Starsky showed both Hutch and his grandparents at their farm leaning against a fence. Hutch looked to be about thirteen. He was laughing while his grandfather was smiling down at him. Starsky’s breath caught seeing the closeness and obvious joy Hutch and his grandfather so clearly shared.

Hutch started to return the other pictures to the box, placing them carefully within it. Suddenly, Starsky found himself unwilling to let go of the photo he still held. He didn’t want to see a happy memory from Hutch’s childhood be hidden away. He found it reassuring to know that not every aspect of his lover’s youth had been a living hell courtesy of his abusive, alcoholic father.

“Can I have this?” Starsky held up the photo of Hutch and his grandparents.

Hutch looked at him in surprise before shrugging. “Sure. I guess.”

“Thank you.” Starsky didn’t try to hide the warmth and gratitude from his voice.

Hutch studied Starsky for a moment, looking a little confused as to why Starsky would care so much about wanting a photo. “It’s no big deal, Starsky.”

“Yes, it is. It’s a piece of your past. A good piece. Thank you for sharing it with me.”

Hutch considered that. He smiled shyly. “You’re welcome.” With that he carried the box of pictures back to the bedroom.

Starsky looked at the photo again. Definitely need to get a frame for this. Hang it at my apartment. Starsky frowned slightly. Until now, he didn’t have a single photo of Hutch as a child. He’d known the man for years, had been in a romantic relationship for with him for months and he was only just now getting glimpses of Hutch’s childhood. I’m going to have to do something about that. I need to get him to talk more about the happy memories.

Starsky carefully set the photo aside. He would have to remember to stop somewhere tomorrow and pick up a frame. Assuming, of course, that everything went well tomorrow and such a simple errand didn’t get lost in larger events. Starsky sighed realizing that Hutch was right when he said it could get ugly. Very ugly. He had a feeling that the Chief of Police wouldn’t be the only one present at that meeting.

Lost in thought, he didn’t notice when Hutch returned to the kitchen. “Starsky? You okay?”

Shaking himself out of his reverie, Starsky nodded. “Yeah. I’m all right.”

“Penny for your thoughts?” Hutch offered as he resumed his seat.

Starsky winced and shot a rueful glance at his partner. “Just thinking about tomorrow.”

“Hmmm…want I should get the brandy?”

In spite of himself, Starsky chuckled at that. “Nah. Don’t think it’s that serious, yet.” He paused before asking, “You think someone from IA will be there?”

“Sort of depends on what Dad and his lawyer said, but yeah, I think someone from IA will be there.”

“What do you want to tell them?”

Hutch smirked slightly at that. “I think that should be my question to you.”

“They want both of us there, right?”

Hutch nodded. “That’s what the message said. Did you check the machine at your apartment?”

“I went straight to the gym and then to the farmer’s market. Never swung by my place.” Starsky waved a hand in a gesture of dismissal. “Doesn’t matter what they want because we’re going to deal with this together.”

Hutch’s expression was very direct and sober. Holding Starsky’s eyes, he said “Always,” as though making a promise.

Starsky nodded acknowledging that commitment. “Always, ” Starsky repeated, making a promise of his own.

Hutch smiled. “So what do you want to tell them?”

“Truth would probably be the best. Just like in court. Answer the questions they ask and only those questions. Don’t offer any information they don’t ask for, don’t elaborate any more than absolutely necessary. Stick to the facts in evidence.”

“Think that will work?” Hutch looked skeptical.

“Well, when all else fails, we could just lie like hell.”

“Oh, good, as long as we’ve got a plan.”

Starsky studied his lover for a moment and then they both burst out laughing. It was silly and stupid, but Starsky couldn’t stop laughing. He laughed until tears ran down his cheeks. He would have been embarrassed except for the fact that Hutch was in a similar state. He raised an unsteady hand to wipe the tears off his face and forced himself to regain at least some control.

Hutch was doing the same. “Damn. I needed that.”

Starsky nearly lost it again when Hutch giggled. He’d never heard his partner make that sound before. Wouldn’t mind hearing him do that more often, though.

“Okay.” Starsky stopped to clear his throat. He tried again. “Okay. We’ve got a plan.”

That statement sent Hutch into another fit of giggles that quickly became peels of laughter. Starsky did his best not to join in and failed miserably. By the time he finally managed to stop laughing, his sides hurt.

Catching his breath, Starsky glanced at Hutch and found himself staring. His lover’s skin was flushed from laughing, eyes shining brightly, his body trembling slightly as he tried to regain control. Starsky swallowed hard, overcome by the beauty of the man before him. Without even thinking, he got up, suddenly needing to be closer.

Hutch’s chair was still back from the table from when held gotten up earlier. Starsky slid in between the table and Hutch’s chair, straddling his lover’s lap. He placed a passionate kiss on his lips. His tongue explored that well known, much-beloved mouth with abandon. Tongues dueled lazily, moving back and forth.

Starsky lost himself in the taste and feel of his lover. Hutch’s skin never failed to entrance him. It was surprisingly soft and warm, like satin. God…feels so good. Always tastes so damn good, too.

Pulling back slightly, Starsky nibbled and licked his way down Hutch’s jaw. A full body shudder rippled through his lover. Starsky smiled, reveling in the effect he knew he was having. With a quiet sigh, he began grinding his hips in a slow, sensuous rhythm.

Hutch responded by letting his hands ghost over Starsky. Those wonderfully talented hands started at his shoulders and worked their way down to cup his ass, gliding down his thighs before heading back up across his chest. Faint butterfly touches that alternated with gentle massaging caresses made Starsky’s skin tingle, feeling hypersensitive.

Starsky worked a hand between them so he could unbutton Hutch’s shirt, jerking the shirttails free of the pants, completely exposing his lover’s chest.

Starsky sat back and let his hands caress the lovely expanse of skin in front of him. He watched his lover’s eyes drift shut, reminding him of a cat’s response to having its chin scratched. Letting his fingers fondle those tight pink nipples, Starsky watched Hutch’s head tip back, taut tendons exposed as he let out a long sigh of pleasure and satisfaction.

Knew I could get him to purr. Starsky smiled slyly. He ducked his head to nibble and lick at Hutch’s neck. He worked his way down to where Hutch’s neck joined his collarbone. Where he knew it would be easily hidden, Starsky sucked hard enough to leave a mark. Hearing Hutch’s faint, almost soundless whimper, Starsky raised his head. Blue eyes locked.

“Yours,” Hutch answered, his voice a husky whisper. “Always. I tell you lately that I love you?”

“Not lately.”

Hutch leaned down to place a chaste kiss on Starsky’s lips. “I love you.”

Starsky pulled Hutch into a tight hug. “Love you, too, Blondie.”

* * * *

The alarm clock woke Starsky at 6:30 am. As an early riser, Hutch never bothered setting the clock for himself but he never failed to set it for Starsky and he was decidedly grateful that Hutch didn’t set it for his usual wake up time of 5:00 am. Starsky only saw one five o’clock a day and A.M. wasn’t it.

Waking up alone was also part of his usual routine. He’d felt Hutch leave earlier but had only roused enough to snag his pillow and wrap himself around it. The pillow was a poor substitute for his lover but it was better than nothing at all. Starsky breathed in deeply, inhaling Hutch’s lingering scent. Sighing, he stretched and rolled out of bed.

He got a quick shower and dressed quickly, deciding on a dark blue suit, white shirt and dark tie. If I’m going to meet with the brass then I should look professional. And if I look like a hit man for the Mafia then so be it. Might just scare the bastards into backing off.

Starsky picked up his pendant and hesitated. It was tangible proof of Hutch’s affection. He’d worn it everyday since Hutch had given it to him, taking it off only long enough to shower. At the time he believed the silver oval with his detectives shield on the front and the interlocking initials on the back to be sufficiently understated that no one would ever question its presence. To date, no one had. But Hutch was worried their relationship could become an issue…may not be a good idea to wear it when someone might ask.

Starsky sighed, uncomfortable with the idea of forgoing the pendant. He felt naked without it. He knew Hutch would notice if he wasn’t wearing it. It was the sort of detail his lover’s observant nature would pick up on immediately. Although, knowing Hutch, he probably wouldn’t comment on it. Held be hurt, no doubt about that. Hutch had already thought Starsky might choose to leave over this situation with his father. Not wearing the pendant would be like rejecting Hutch’s love.

Not going to do that. I’m not doing anything to cause him to doubt my commitment to us no matter what. So fuck it. I’m wearing it and I’ll deal with the question when some one asks.

Starsky slipped the pendant on feeling better immediately for doing so. He headed for the kitchen. He wasn’t surprised to find no evidence of last night’s meal or lovemaking. The kitchen was immaculate.

Everything was clean and back in its normal place. Hutch might not be as meticulous a housekeeper as Starsky, but he certainly was no slouch when it came to organization. Starsky didn’t think of himself as a neat freak either, just a firm believer in putting things back where they belong and keeping things clean.

Starsky pulled a mug from the wooden tree near Hutch’s coffee pot, poured his coffee and headed for the back porch knowing that was where he’d find Hutch. His lover liked to greet the day there whenever time allowed. Starsky had never told Hutch, but the back porch was also his favorite spot.

He stepped outside and took a deep breath. The air was still pleasantly cool. That wouldn’t last, but it felt good for the moment. Times like these, he could appreciate why his lover liked mornings. Doesn’t beat sleeping in, but it isn’t all bad.

“Good mornin’, Starsk.” Hutch was sitting on the swing, sipping his own cup of coffee. He was wearing his pale blue suit and a white shirt. Starsky loved the way his partner looked when he dressed up.

Starsky studied him for a moment, noting the completely relaxed posture. Hutch looked well rested, calm and totally at ease. He hadn’t looked like that since meeting with his father. The low-grade hum of tension was absent and the invisible distance that had been building between them was also gone.

Doesn’t seem worried about today. Good. Starsky realized that it wasn’t Meade’s death or even the meeting with the Chief that had made Hutch so tense. Nor had those things contributed to the distance that had been between them. It was his fear that Starsky would be hurt or that Starsky might want to leave that made him so on edge. I need to make sure he talks to me from now on. No reason to let things get so bad.

Starsky walked over and joined his partner on the swing. He leaned in for a kiss, delighting in the taste and feel of his lover. The kiss wasn’t so much passionate as warm and pleasant. There was no point in starting something they couldn’t finish, but Starsky liked waking up with a kiss.

“Now it’s a good morning.”

They sipped their coffee in silence. Hutch leaned into Starsky slightly so that they sat shoulder to shoulder, enjoying this early morning companionable silence.

He’d missed this as much as he missed the easy camaraderie that they usually shared over dinner. It felt good to know they were back on track.

Starsky finished his cup, knowing that Hutch was most likely on his second or third cup of the day. Almost from the day they started working together, Starsky had come to terms with the fact that his partner seemed to live on caffeine. He had always tried to eat healthy, but had given up all efforts to curb his intake of coffee as a lost cause.

Together they headed back into the house. Cups were rinsed and placed in the sink. Starsky grabbed his keys from where they hung near the door, as he glanced at the clock. They had an hour to get to the station and would likely need most of it because of the traffic. On his own he was never ready on time. Hutch had been a good influence on him in that respect. He was rarely ever late anymore.

Hutch told him that he had briefly considered driving his own vehicle before deciding against it. He decided that it wasn’t worth it to take both of them since no one questions them coming in together. Hell, they seemed to be more surprised when Hutch drove his own car.

When they and Starsky had first been partnered together, Hutch didn’t have his own vehicle. Vanessa had gotten the car in the divorce settlement. By the time he’d managed to acquire one, everyone had already accepted as routine Starsky picking him up or dropping him off. Even now they still took the Torino more often than not. It wasn’t unusual for Hutch to leave his car at the station when they were working a case. Most of the time, when their coworkers saw the Torino they assumed both were nearby. The presence or absence of Hutch’s car was usually ignored as an unimportant detail.

The Torino pulled into Parker Center right on time. Starsky had managed to avoid most of the traffic snarls. Riding up in the elevator, Starsky asked, “We need to check in with Dobey before heading upstairs?”

“Yeah. I assume he already knows, but it wouldn’t hurt to stop in.”

“You okay?”

Hutch smiled. “We got a plan, right?” Humor left over from last night still sparkled in his eyes.

Starsky chuckled. “We got a plan.”

“We’re doing this together.”

It wasn’t a question, but Starsky answered anyway, “Together.”

“Then, I’m okay.”

They got off on their usual floor and headed for their desks. Starsky made a point of checking his messages first thing. Hutch would usually take off his jacket, get comfortable in his chair and then grab an open case file, a piece of paper and a pencil. Starsky had watched this routine enough to know his partner was brainstorming.

He’d told Starsky that sometimes things just clicked for him first thing in the morning when they wouldn’t any other time of day. Some puzzling, obscure detail of a case would fall into place. They’d closed enough cases with this intuitive approach that Starsky no longer really gave it much thought.

Starsky had those same flashes of insight, although his were more likely to occur while they were involved in actively working the case. For Starsky it came together when they were checking leads, interviewing witnesses, or looking into a suspect. Hutch was better at working over the details on paper, putting together facts so who, what and why seemed to just naturally fall into place. It was just another facet of their working styles and basic natures that made them such a good team.

They weren’t at their desks long enough to even start much when Dobey called them into his office. With a shared look of mutual support and encouragement, they headed for his office. Starsky took one chair as Hutch slid into the other.

Never one to mince words, Dobey got right to the point. “I don’t know if you know or not, but Aaron Meade died yesterday afternoon.”

“The hospital called me last night,” Hutch answered.

Dobey nodded, accepting that fact. He looked at the way they were dressed. “I take it you two got the message about meeting with the Chief this morning?”

Hutch smiled tightly. “Yes.”

Starsky echoed. “Yep.”

“You okay with this?” Dobey pinned them both with a hard look. His eyes assessing and demanding honesty. Starsky resisted the urge to squirm, but only just barely. Reminds me of Ma.

Hutch shrugged one shoulder. “We knew this could happen. It isn’t really a surprise.”

Dobey sighed. Starsky could tell he wasn’t happy with that non-answer. Better give him an answer we can all live with.

“We’re okay with it, Cap. Like Hutch said, we knew it could happen. That was the reason we told you about the meeting with Knox and Hutch’s father. Didn’t want you to get caught off guard when it did come up.”

Dobey nodded. The look he gave Starsky let him know he had appreciated being kept in the loop. “I already spoke to the Chief, but he wants to see you personally. Wants to get it straight from the horse’s mouth as it were.”

He hesitated for a moment, biting nervously at his lower lip. “Hutch…I passed on the file from the incident when you were sixteen. I thought the background might be needed for you and Starsky to get a fair shake over this crap. I was hoping it would be enough to end all this, but doesn’t look like it worked out that way. I would have asked you about it, but you had already left when I got the call, and I—”

“It’s okay, ” Hutch said, cutting him off and immediately putting him at ease. “I thought that would come up. It’s probably the best way to explain to the brass why I’m not all that keen on dealing with my father. And with him being charged with murder,” Hutch shrugged. “Figured the D.A. would be looking into his history. It was bound to come up at some point. Pattern of violent behavior makes a stronger case.”

Starsky shook his head, mystified as to how his partner could say that with no more emotion than if he was discussing the weather. Don’t think I could be that relaxed about it if it were me. Hell, I’m not that relaxed about it now.

Dobey looked relieved that he hadn’t inadvertently caused problems between himself and Hutch. Starsky knew he and Hutch held a special place in their boss’s heart. The three of them had been friends for a long time and they valued that friendship a great deal.

“What time are you supposed to report upstairs?”

Hutch glanced at his watch. “Ten minutes.”

Dobey nodded. “Figures. Chief said he wanted to handle this, and I quote, ‘in a prompt and timely fashion.’ Remember,” he nailed them with another hard look, “Play nice. I don’t want anymore trouble than we’re already trying to handle.”

Starsky smirked at that. “Sure thing, Cap.”

Hutch just nodded, and then looked at Starsky. “We better go. Don’t want to keep the man waiting.”

Starsky got up with Hutch and they headed for the door when Dobey called to them.

“Starsky? Hutch?”

“Yeah?”

“Captain?”

“Let me know if there is anything I can do to help. You’re not alone here.”

Starsky couldn’t help smiling warmly at their boss. That was exactly the right thing to say. “Will do.” Starsky gave him a two-finger salute and tipped his head in acknowledgement of his offer.

Back in the elevator, Starsky watched as Hutch took a deep breath and let it out very slowly. He could almost see his partner putting his thoughts in order and reigning in his emotions. Without consciously thinking about it, Starsky found himself doing the same thing. Calm. Cool. Collected. We can handle this.

“Just like going to court.”

Starsky nodded. “Honestly answer only the questions they ask. No more, no less. Address only those facts in evidence. Anything else is just hearsay or speculation and it doesn’t matter.”

Together they stepped off on the twelfth floor. Unlike their floor, this one was quiet, almost vacant. Deep, plush carpeting and wood paneled walls also let them know they were definitely worlds apart from the norm.

Starsky had never been up on this floor before and he found it hard to believe they were even in the same building. He glanced around casually, hoping to spot a directory of some kind. “You know which office is his?”

“Yeah.” Hutch nodded toward the right, indicating the direction they should head.

“You’ve been up here before?”

“No.”

“Then how do you know where to go?” Starsky shot Hutch a quizzical look as he walked in step with his partner down the hall.

Hutch shrugged. “I try to know the layout of every place I spend time in.” Hutch gave him a half smile. “Never really liked getting lost. And it’s a real pain in the ass trying to get good directions from most people. It’s just easier if you know your way around.”

“Amen to that brother. Getting directions in this town is nearly impossible.”

They passed several doors before coming to the end of the hall. A dark, solid wood door had its window emblazoned in gold letters, informing them that this was the office of John O’Malley, Chief of Police. Starsky decided he wasn’t impressed by the display of extravagance.

O’Malley had been Chief of Police for nearly ten years and was a good man according to most people who professed to know him. He was smart enough to negotiate the politics of the job, but by all accounts hadn’t lost the hard, no nonsense approach he’d had when he started his career in law enforcement. He was often described as being tough but fair. The pictures Starsky had seen showed a short, stocky, rather square man, whose face reminded Starsky of a bulldog. He’d met more than one Irishman who could have been a brother to O’Malley. Hutch opened the door and together they stepped into the waiting room. A secretary sat behind an imposing cherry wood desk, working diligently on the typewriter in front of her. She looked up and smiled at them as they entered. It was a polite, distant smile. The kind that let you know you weren’t really welcome, but the person was too polite to actually say so.

“Can I help you?”

“Yes, Ma’am. Hutchinson and Starsky to see Chief O’Malley.” Starsky’s soft answer contained a note of deference and respect that could be heard when addressing a woman. It was another of his old-fashioned habits, this innate regard for women that Hutch seemed to find rather endearing.

“Is he expecting you?” She glanced at the appointment book lying on the desk.

“I think so, Ma’am. Chief O’Malley wanted us to be here first thing this morning.”

“Oh, yes.” She tapped one long fingernail against the book. “I remember his mentioning that. If you gentlemen would have a seat, he’ll be with you shortly.” With that she returned to her work, effectively dismissing them.

Starsky sighed. He hated waiting. It always struck him as rude that he would make the effort to be somewhere on time, honor his commitment to an appointment, only to be left to stare at the walls because the other person wasn’t ready. Starsky had decided some time ago that people in positions of authority made you wait simply to emphasize the fact that they were in charge.

At least they’ve got comfortable chairs. Starsky glanced over at Hutch and smiled reassuringly at his partner before picking up a magazine and settling in to wait. A half hour later the secretary escorted them into John O’Malley’s inner sanctum.

“Sergeants Hutchinson and Starsky. Glad you could make it on such short notice.” O’Malley came toward them, offering his hand. Oh, yeah. Like we had a choice in the matter, Starsky thought.

Hutch shook O’Malley’s hand, his own long fingered, elegant hand nearly lost in O’Malley’s larger, beefier one. Starsky noted that his partner didn’t wince, but saw him discretely flexing his fingers behind his back, when O’Malley let go. That earned the man a black mark in Starsky’s book. Evidently O’Malley likes to do a little power play. Man wants a firm handshake, well then by God, I’ll give him a firm handshake. Starsky shook the offered hand and managed not to smirk when he saw O’Malley wince slightly. Serves you right. Shouldn’t have done it to someone else if you can’t handle it yourself.

O’Malley waved a hand to indicate the other men present. “I believe you two have already met Timothy Knox.”

Hutch acknowledged his father’s lawyer, his expression properly neutral. Starsky couldn’t resist giving Knox an evil little smile, threatening the man subtly with just a look. His smile grew wider when the lawyer stepped back.

“And this is Detective George Coffee. Internal Affairs.”

Coffee was built rather like Hutch. He wore his sandy brown hair in a short, almost military style. The neatly trimmed beard surprised Starsky slightly since nearly every man he’d met in the higher echelons of the PD was clean-shaven. Coffee’s brown eyes were partially hidden behind wire frame glasses.

Hutch nodded toward the detective, his expression warming slightly. “George. It’s been a few years.”

Coffee smiled. “Indeed it has, Ken. More like a dozen than just a few.”

“You two know each other?” O’Malley asked.

“Worked a case together once.”

O’Malley seemed momentarily disconcerted when neither Hutch nor Coffee offered any more information than that. Man must not know Hutch at all. If he thought he was going to get more than that, without dragging each detail out like pulling teeth, he’s crazy. Starsky fought down his own curiosity, promising himself he’d ask his partner about it later.

O’Malley motioned them toward the conference table that took up most of his office. “Why don’t we all take a seat and get started?”

Starsky and Hutch chose seats next to each other that faced the door. Starsky mentally sneered when Knox choose the chair farthest from him and closest to the door.

Coffee casually took a seat opposite both Starsky and Hutch. O’Malley sat at what could be considered the head of the table. Coffee and O’Malley both had files in front of them.

Wonder what they’ve got in those files, Starsky thought. We’ll find out soon enough, I suppose.

The burly chief of police set a small tape recorder in the middle of the table. He looked around the table, making eye contact with everyone there. “If it’s all right with everyone here, I would like to tape this meeting, so as to save time and ensure accuracy.” No one objected.

“Good.” O’Malley hit the record button. “First things first. I’ve called this meeting to address a complaint of alleged police brutality, filed by Mr. Timothy Knox on behalf of his client Mr. Kenneth Hutchinson, Senior. Present at this meeting are Detective Sergeant Kenneth Hutchinson, Junior, Detective Sergeant David Starsky, Mr. Timothy Knox, attorney to the alleged victim, and Detective George Coffee of Internal Affairs. Detectives Hutchinson and Starsky, this is not a formal investigation. No charges have been filed. I asked Detective Coffee to sit in because I thought it would save time. I spoke to Captain Dobey and he was kind enough to fill me in on everything. He also provided me with your statements regarding the event in question. However, I’ve found the best course of action is always to deal directly with the parties who were involved. As I am sure you are aware, second hand information isn’t worth much. I prefer to be able to ask questions rather than just read statements. I called you both here because I want to be perfectly clear on all the facts.” O’Malley shook his head, looking slightly confused. “This is the first time I’ve ever heard an accusation of police brutality leveled against officers who weren’t directly involved with the case. Any questions, gentlemen?”

“No, Sir.” Starsky and Hutch answered as one.

“Good.” O’Malley looked a Coffee. “Detective Coffee, why don’t you go ahead?”

Coffee opened the file and glanced down at the papers inside. “Sergeant Starsky, is it true that you struck Mr. Knox’s client, one Kenneth Hutchinson, Senior?”

“Yes. I hit him.” Starsky knew Coffee expected him to deny it. There wasn’t any point in lying about it. Like he’d told Hutch, the plan was to honestly answer the questions asked.

Coffee raised an eyebrow. “And you hit him because…?”

“He struck my partner.”

Coffee looked at Hutch. “Is this true?”

Hutch nodded. “My father backhanded me and that’s when Starsky hit him.”

“Why did your father strike you?”

“I guess I said something he didn’t like.”

“Which was what exactly?”

“I told him I wasn’t going to help with his case. He was angry, he said, because he thought a son should be willing to help his father, family loyalty and all that. I told him I thought he should be on the wagon, so it looked like we’d both be disappointed. That’s when he hit me.”

“The wagon?”

Hutch winced slightly, looking almost apologetic. “My father is an alcoholic.”

Knox protested. “I object to this characterization of my client.”

Coffee regarded Knox with an unwavering stare waiting until the man began to shift restlessly before he spoke. His voice was soft, but very firm. “This is isn’t a court of law. You can object on principle, but it won’t carry much weight during this interview. You are here as a courtesy. You would do well to remember that.”

Starsky decided he liked Coffee. Might not be such a bad guy, even if he does work for IA.

Coffee continued to look at Knox. “Why, in your complaint, was there no mention of your client striking Sergeant Hutchinson first?”

Knox sputtered. “Because there was no need to mention it. My client was already detained. There was no need for violence. Mr. Starsky lost his temper and took it out on my client. He didn’t just hit the man, he tried to kill him!”

Coffee looked at Starsky, raising an eyebrow. “Tell me what you did.”

“I struck him twice, forcing him away from my partner and back against the wall. I held him there in a chokehold until I was sure he wouldn’t try to attack my partner a second time.” That’s true so far as it goes. I was going to kill him. Would have cheerfully choked the bastard to death if Hutch hadn’t stopped me. But Coffee doesn’t need to know that.

“You threatened to kill him if he ever came near your partner again,” Knox insisted. He sneered. “Oh, my mistake. You said it wasn’t a threat but a promise.”

Coffee frowned at Starsky. “Did you?”

Starsky sighed. Damn. Okay…Plan B, sort of. “The man has a history of violence. He attacked a college student in a bar, beating him into a coma, for no apparent reason. A statement by my partner was enough to cause him to strike out physically. I had every reason to believe the man could turn violent with the least provocation. I didn’t want him to think he could pursue his hostility toward my partner without suffering repercussions. So…yes, I did promise the man that he would regret any future contact with my partner.”

Knox smiled smugly at that admission. Coffee, though, seemed to give it careful consideration before asking, “Was the suspect cuffed or restrained in anyway?”

“No.” Both Starsky and Hutch answered.

Coffee frowned. “Why not? You’ve already stated that the man had a history of violence, so why didn’t you take the precaution of leaving him cuffed during your interview?”

“The interview wasn’t our idea.” Again they spoke together.

“Excuse me?”

Hutch glanced at Starsky and then answered, “Mr. Knox was the one who demanded the interview. It wasn’t our idea. And it wasn’t our meeting. Hell, it wasn’t even our case. We didn’t set the ground rules. Mr. Knox and my father were already in the room when we got there. Evidently, Knox nor the officer in charge of the prisoner felt that cuffs were necessary.”

Coffee glanced down at the file and then at Knox. “You didn’t mention in your complaint that Hutchinson and Starsky were only present at your request.”

“I didn’t request Sergeant Starsky.” Knox glared at Starsky. “I only asked for Sergeant Hutchinson. My client wanted to speak with his son. He was hoping his son, as a police officer, would be able to offer some assistance regarding his case.”

“You didn’t just ask.” Hutch snarled eyes snapping with carefully controlled anger. “You ‘insisted’ that Imeet with you. You made it very clear that you wouldn’t take no for an answer.”

O’Malley interjected at this point drawing Hutch’s attention. “You didn’t want to see your father?”

“No.” Hutch was emphatic. “I hadn’t seen the man in over ten years and I could easily have gone another ten without laying eyes on him.”

“Not a close family then?” Coffee asked pulling Hutch’s attention back to him.

Hutch snorted. “You could say that.”

Starsky studied O’Malley for a moment. “Captain Dobey said he’d given you information regarding Hutch’s history with his father. You didn’t pass it on to Detective Coffee?”

“I didn’t want to bias his investigation. Only those facts pertinent to this case need to be considered.”

Starsky stared at him, incredulous. “You didn’t think the fact that Hutch’s father had nearly beaten him to death as a teenager might be pertinent?”

He felt Hutch lay a hand on his arm. That light touch was brief, yet it managed to soothe some of the building anger in him. Control, Starsky. Don’t lose it. Calm. Cool. Collected.

In a quieter, but decidedly sarcastic tone of voice, Starsky asked, “You didn’t think the fact a judge had seen fit to put a restraining order on his father, keeping him from seeing or speaking to his son until he was an adult, was pertinent?”

“You knew about this when you met with Hutchinson Senior?” Coffee directed his question to Starsky, once again taking control of the interview.

“Yes. That’s why I went with my partner. Given their shared history, I wasn’t sure that he and his father could safely be in the same room.”

Coffee nodded, accepting that explanation. He looked at Knox, his expression thoughtful. “Did you know about this when you insisted that Sergeant Hutchinson meet with your client?”

Knox cleared his throat. “I…ah…er…no. I didn’t know about it when I set up the interview. My client only told me that he and his son were…um…estranged. He didn’t go into specifics. He told me that his son was a detective and that it was possible he could be helpful.”

“I see.” Coffee’s tone clearly indicated how little he thought of Knox’s answer.

“And Sergeant Hutchinson’s reluctance to meet with you wasn’t any indication of how he felt about his father?” Coffee shook his head and raised a hand halting any answer Knox might have given. “Don’t answer that.”

Coffee looked at Hutch. “Clearly the history between you and your father has some bearing on what happened. So…why don’t you tell me what happened when you were a teenager.”

Hutch sighed and shifted slightly in his chair. That restless movement let Starsky know just how uncomfortable his partner had to be. Unlike Starsky, the man could normally sit still for hours. He hated the fact that his partner was being put through this. He also hated that in this room, with these people, he couldn’t offer the physical or even verbal support he so desperately wanted to.

“My father lost his temper with a neighbor boy. Kid was maybe ten or eleven.” Hutch shrugged one shoulder. “I’m not even sure what it was he did or didn’t do that to set my father off but I didn’t want him to hurt the boy, so I stood up for him. One thing kind of led to another and my father started beating me. I wasn’t really big enough or strong enough to put up much of a fight. The boy had the good sense to call the police while all that was going on. When the cops got there, it took two of them to pull him off me.”

Hutch shifted uneasily again. Starsky knew that only he could see Hutch’s hand gripping the armrest, white knuckles betraying what his partner had to be feeling. His voice, however, remained carefully dispassionate and unaffected, his face revealing nothing of that inner turmoil.

“If the cops hadn’t shown up when they did, I think he would have beaten me to death. As it was, I spent three days in the hospital with massive bruises, some broken ribs, a dislocated shoulder, fractured cheekbone and one hell of a concussion. The court sent him to jail for nine months for endangering a minor and I went to live with my Grandmother.”

Hutch’s calm recitation of facts made Coffee wince in sympathy. O’Malley had the good grace to look embarrassed for forcing Hutch into a position of having to tell this story. Even though he already knew most of the details, Starsky flinched when Hutch listed his injuries. Only with a great deal of effort was he able to stay seated and look impassive.

“Okay.” Coffee rubbed one hand across the bridge of his nose, adjusting his glasses as he did so. “Let me see if I can summarize this. Mr. Knox called you, requesting an interview. He insisted on your meeting with him and his client, your father. You agreed to the meet, but brought your partner along. Is that correct so far?”

Hutch nodded. “Yes.”

“Sergeant Starsky has already stated why he wanted to be there. Did you want your partner present?

“Yes, I wanted him there.”

“Why?”

“My father and I…well, we aren’t close. There was no reason to think that had changed given how little we saw of each other. I thought Starsky being there might keep things from getting out of hand.”

Knox hissed. “Oh, and that worked out beautifully, didn’t it.”

Hutch’s eyes narrowed as he glared at Knox. When he spoke, his voice was flat and uncompromising. It was his “don’t argue with me” tone that Starsky knew all too well. “I told you when you called that I thought the whole thing was a bad idea. A very bad idea. I didn’t want anything to do with the man. I told you then there was nothing I could do that would help his case. You insisted on the meeting. Don’t come crying now that it didn’t work out the way you wanted.”

Knox huffed loudly. “My client wanted to speak to his son. Mr. Starsky should never have been there. If he had left, as I requested, all of this could have been avoided.”

Starsky snorted. Oh, I doubt that. Bastard would have hit Hutch whether I was there or not.

“You were asked to leave?” Coffee asked looking at Starsky.

“When we arrived in the interview room, Knox indicated that my presence was not necessary. I told him I wasn’t going to leave. Hutch told him that if I wasn’t allowed to stay then the interview was over. Both Knox and Hutch’s father agreed to let me stay after that.”

“Ken, you insisted that your partner stay after Mr. Knox asked him to leave?”

“Yes. Standard procedure dictates that no cop interview a suspect alone. It isn’t safe for one thing and it’s always better to have a witness to what goes on. Makes sure things get done by the book, if you know what I mean?”

Starsky smiled inwardly at that. Nice call. Can’t argue with SOP. Even if it wasn’t the real reason I was there…it’s still a good one.

“But you weren’t alone with the suspect. His lawyer was also present.” Coffee pointed out.

Hutch shrugged. “It didn’t matter. I don’t interview a suspect on my own. Period. Even though this wasn’t our case, only way I was going to stay was if my partner was present.”

“So…you arrived at the interview room. Sergeant Starsky is asked to leave and refuses. You insist that he stays or the interview is over. Then what happened?”

“We sat down. Talked a little about the case. My father didn’t like what I said and backhanded me.”

“And that’s when Sergeant Starsky struck your father?”

“Yes.” Starsky and Hutch answered that together.

“Would you have gone to see your father if Mr. Knox hadn’t requested it?”

“No.”

“You weren’t interested in his case?”

“No.”

“Not even a little? I mean this is your father were talking about.”

Hutch snorted and shot an impatient look at Coffee. “Thought we already covered that.”

“Have either of you been in contact with him since?”

“No.” Again, in unison. Starsky was faintly amused that they had done it several times, all without looking at each other, or ever taking their eyes off Coffee. He knew that they often walked in step, but this was the first time he was ever conscious of them speaking in concert. Weird. Good, but weird.

“Sergeant, when did you know your father had been arrested?”

“When Captain Dobey showed me the booking photo asking me if I knew who he was.”

“So it was your supervisor who brought it to your attention? You weren’t actively engaged or interested in getting involved?”

“That’s right. The whole thing started when he called Starsky wanting to know what I was doing in lock up.”

Coffee looked confused. “You were in lock up? I’m not—”

“Same name. Junior, senior. Happens sometimes.” Hutch waved a hand in a dismissive gesture. “Desk sergeant was running the arrest reports for distribution, saw what he thought was my name. He knew I worked under Captain Dobey and he called him to give him a heads up. Dobey called Starsky. He knew we worked late that night and thought my partner would know how I got involved in a bar fight that resulted in a kid being put in a coma.”

“Starsky tracked you down, verifying you weren’t actually in lock up?”

Hutch hesitated for just a moment. “Something like that.”

Up until that point all Hutch’s answers had been very straightforward and to the point. The look on Coffee’s face told Starsky that he hadn’t missed that slight hesitation. Coffee studied Hutch, raising an eyebrow. “What did he do exactly to determine that it wasn’t you who’d been arrested?”

Hutch sighed. “He didn’t have to track me down. All he really had to do was wake me up, since I was staying at his place.”

Coffee’s eyes narrowed, suspicious. “You do that often? Spend the night at your partner’s place?”

Starsky froze, but forced himself to breath normally and tried to look relaxed. Shit. Telling the truth and sticking to the facts isn’t going to work with this one.

Hutch just looked at Coffee, his head cocked slightly to one side. “This interview gonna be about where I sleep?”

Nice save, Starsky thought. When all else fails answer a question with a question. Admit to nothing and put the other guy on the defensive. ‘

Hutch winked at the IA detective. His voice was laced with a definite note of humor and innuendo. “Didn’t think you be interested in things like that.”

Coffee smiled at that, looking slightly embarrassed and Starsky relaxed. He never would have expected his partner to turn the whole question back on Coffee that way. Didn’t know he had it in him. Way to go, Blondie.

Coffee wasn’t totally put off his original question, but he did modify it slightly. “Why were you staying at Starsky’s?”

Starsky breathed easier. Now this one we can answer more or less honestly.

“We were working the Thomas kidnapping that week. We put in more overtime than regular hours. All totaled it came up to almost sixty hours in three days.” Hutch sighed deeply and raised a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose. Starsky knew he was remembering that week and everything that went with it. The case brought back a lot of bad memories for his partner.

Starsky picked up the thread of the story. “We wrapped up the case that night after dropping the boy off with his mother. Both of us were exhausted and my place was closest. I offered to let Hutch crash there rather than have him try to drive all the way to his place.” Same thing we told Dobey. Basically true, just not the whole truth. But it’s nothing that will raise eyebrows.

O’Malley leaned forward slightly. “Thomas kidnapping…that was the case with the young boy taken by his father?”

“Yes, sir.”

“As I recall, you managed to find the boy and return him to his mother safely.”

“Yes, sir. We did.”

“That was good work.”

“Thank you, Sir.”

O’Malley carefully studied them both. “I would have thought that Captain Dobey would have given you a little down time after putting in so many hours and resolving such a difficult case so successfully.”

“He did.” Starsky immediately rose to the defense of their boss. “We weren’t expected to show up at the office until later in the day. But when he saw what he thought was Hutch’s name on the arrest report…well, he called wanting to straighten things out right away. The Captain likes to stay on top of things, especially when it comes to the officers in his command.”

O’Malley nodded. “Indeed. He’s a damn fine officer.”

Coffee studied Starsky. “He called you wanting to know how your partner ended up in lock up. Since he was with you…you obviously knew it wasn’t him. Then what happened?”

Starsky shifted slightly in his chair feeling like he’d been sitting still forever. He would give his eyeteeth to be allowed to get up and pace. “We came down to the station, hoping to be able to straighten out whatever mix up or practical joke had gotten Hutch’s name on the arrest report. When we got here, the Captain showed us the booking photo and that’s when Hutch realized it wasn’t a mistake. Well…not exactly a mistake…more like a case of mistaken identity.”

“And you didn’t plan to get involved in your father’s case?” Coffee asked Hutch.

“No. I didn’t plan on getting involved with his case.”

“And just so we’re clear…you wouldn’t have gone to see him, if his lawyer hadn’t insisted?”

“That’s right.”

Coffee nodded. “Mr. Knox has stated several times that your father seemed to think that you would be able to help with his case. What sort of assistance did your father think you would be able to offer?”

“I don’t know. We never got to that part. But if I had to hazard a guess…l don’t think my father realized that this was more than a simple assault.” Hutch shook his head, his expression slightly disgusted. “I think he was hoping that it would be something on a level with having too many parking tickets and I could just make the charges disappear.”

Coffee smiled and shook his head. “Doesn’t know you very well, does he?”

Hutch returned the smile. “No. He doesn’t.”

O’Malley shot a bemused look at Coffee. “Meaning?”

“Sergeant Hutchinson is one of the most by the book cops I know. Always has been.”

“Ah. I see.”

Coffee glanced down at the papers in front of him and then to Knox. “Back to the matter at hand. Did your client need medical attention?”

“I tried to get him to go to the hospital but he refused.”

“At any point, was medical attention offered?”

“Not by Hutchinson or Starsky.”

Coffee shot a hard look at Knox. “I didn’t ask if they were the ones to offer it. I asked if it was offered at any point, by anyone.”

“No.”

Coffee looked surprised. “Hmm…Really? That’s odd. I’ve a statement in front of me from Officer Phillip Cooper. He was the one who escorted your client to and from lock up. You may remember him.”

Coffee pinned Knox with a hard, uncompromising look. “He stated, and I quote, ‘Hutchinson and Starsky left and told me that I could return the suspect whenever his lawyer was finished with him. When Mr. Knox, the suspect’s lawyer, indicated he was finished, I entered the room. I noticed that the suspect had a split lip and a black eye. I offered to have a doctor take a look at him, but he refused. When I asked the suspect how he’d been injured, he refused to tell me. His lawyer also refused to give me any information when I questioned him as to how the suspect came to be injured. I returned the suspect to lock-up, but kept an eye on him to make sure that he had no other injuries aside from the facial bruising I had already noticed.’ This ring any bells?”

Knox cleared his throat. “Er…well, yes. Now that you mention it, I do remember that.”

“Thought you might,” Coffee commented dryly. He closed the folder in front of him and sat back in his chair. He turned enough so that he faced O’Malley directly.

“Chief, here’s how I see it. I believe Hutchinson and Starsky had no intention of getting involved in this case. They both have more than enough to do and are by the book enough to know better than to mess around in someone else’s case. In addition to that, the family connection would have automatically excluded Hutchinson from getting officially involved. They met with Mr. Knox’s client, at Knox’s request and only because he insisted on the meeting. Mr. Knox has admitted that he asked Hutchinson to be there, although he objected to Starsky’s presence.”

Coffee nodded slightly toward Hutch. “Hutchinson is right when he said it is SOP that no cop interview a suspect alone. And I think he did the right thing by insisting that his partner remain. In hindsight, it might seem that it would have been better for Starsky to simply have left.” Coffee shrugged. “On the other hand, his presence may very well have kept the confrontation from escalating. It’s a ‘what if’ game that isn’t really worth playing. Everyone, including Mr. Knox, agrees that his client struck first. Admittedly, that is no real justification for striking back, but it is somewhat understandable when we consider the fact that we expect partners to defend each other.”

Coffee nodded toward Starsky. “As Starsky explained, there is a history of violence with this man. He may very well have been justified in using force to contain the situation. Medical assistance was offered and refused. Officer Cooper’s description of the suspect’s injuries coincides with Starsky’s statement of what took place. No other injuries were observed or reported. So, while force was applied, it doesn’t appear to have been excessive.”

Coffee cleared his throat, and took a deep breath. “Furthermore, all the officers involved…Cooper, Hutchinson, Starsky…all filed statements immediately after the incident occurred, as procedure dictates. Captain Dobey has stated that he knew within an hour after the incident what had occurred.”

Coffee’s locked eyes with the lawyer. “I find it interesting that Mr. Knox waited nearly a week before filing a complaint. That he didn’t immediately inform someone of what had occurred opens the door for speculation. Officer Cooper stated that both the suspect and his lawyer refused to comment on how Mr. Hutchinson, Senior came to be injured. If Starsky had not admitted to striking the man, he could just as easily have slipped and hit the table, or gotten caught by a door.”

Coffee’s voice took on a harder edge as he continued to lock eyes with Knox. “I do not believe Mr. Knox acted in his client’s best interest by waiting to file a complaint and failing to immediately follow through. I’m more inclined to believe that the recent death of Aaron Meade and the D.A.’s subsequent addition of murder charges, played a major role in Mr. Knox’s decision to file a complaint.”

Coffee shifted his gaze back to O’Malley. “In light of all this…l would be hard pressed to actually file charges that could stick. Both Hutchinson and Starsky followed procedure and have taken full responsibility for their actions. There was no effort made to conceal or cover up what occurred. Nothing that happened has any real bearing on Hutchinson Senior’s case. There was no attempt to coerce a confession from him, or tamper with evidence. I’ve reviewed his case and spoken to the officers directly involved. To date, everything has been by the book. It’s a very clean case.”

Coffee shook his head and shrugged one shoulder. “You could file an official reprimand. You could also pursue charges of brutality, but I honestly don’t expect that you could go anywhere with that. Nor was there any real misconduct. I’ll have a report summarizing my evaluation to you by the end of the day. But, in my honest opinion the entire matter should just be dropped. I would appreciate it if you would send me a copy of the tape or a transcript of this meeting for me to keep with IA files.”

O’Malley looked at Knox. “Are you satisfied that your complaint has been adequately addressed and thoroughly investigated?”

Knox nodded. Starsky noted that Knox looked more resigned than pissed. Starsky guessed that he was trying more to muddy the waters than to actually accuse them of anything. Bastard. If you can’t dazzle them with dexterity, baffle them with bullshit.

“Hutchinson, Starsky, thank you for your time and cooperation.” O’Malley stood and offered his hand again to first Hutchinson and then Starsky. Starsky managed not to smile when the beefy man hesitated ever so slightly when he went to shake his hand.

Both Starsky and Hutch shook Coffee’s hand as well before standing to leave. Having effectively been dismissed, they headed for the door, only to be called back by O’Malley. “Would you men please return this to Captain Dobey?” He held out the folder that had been sitting on the table in front of him during the meeting.

Starsky reached for the folder. “Sure. No problem.”

Once safely outside the door, Starsky looked at his partner. “Went better than I thought it would.”

“Yeah. Damn sight better than I expected. Kind of makes me feel silly for worrying about it.”

As they headed down the hall to the elevator, Starsky asked, “What case did you work with Coffee?”

Hutch flinched. “You remember…the Roberts and Mitchell case? Johnson said he filled you in on that.”

Starsky stiffened. “Yeah.” How could I forget? The bastard’s brother and his friends came along years after the fact and put you in the hospital. They planned to kill you. Oh, yeah. I remember. Finding you in that alley, blood everywhere, still gives me the shakes. Starsky forced his mind away from those still fresh images.

“Coffee worked with me to bring in Roberts.”

Starsky considered that. Would explain why he thought Hutch was such a by the numbers kind of cop. Not that he isn’t, but I doubt too many guys in IA think that about their fellow officers. Course there aren’t too many cops who would track down a guy who killed the man who’d raped and murdered a sixteen year old girl.

“Was Coffee working IA then?”

“Yeah. He’s worked most of his career with IA. He’s a damn fine detective. In a way, having O’Malley call him in to do this with us was one hell of a compliment.”

“Meaning?”

“Coffee isn’t just a detective. He’s the department head for IA.”

“Ah.” Starsky decided Hutch was right. It was a compliment.

They got on the elevator and headed back down to their floor. Starsky felt Hutch reach out and pat his ass. It was a brief touch that could have been little more than accidental contact. But it wasn’t. Starsky grinned and shook his head. When he shifted to return that show of affection, the folder he’d been holding slipped. Paper and photos scattered across the floor.

“Damn. Now see what you made me do.”

Hutch grinned at him, totally unrepentant. He leaned in to whisper in Starsky’s ear and stroked Starsky’s ass while he did. “Don’t sweat it. I’ll help you pick it all up.”

Starsky shivered, enjoying the feel of Hutch’s warm breath in his ear. Not at the office, he reminded himself. Not at the office. It’s okay to tease a little, but you can’t ravish the man in an elevator. Starsky regretfully turned away, crouching down to retrieve the photos scattered in front of him. He successfully resisted the urge to simply bend over and flaunt his backside at his lover. He picked up several photos and froze when he finally saw what they were. Each photo was a picture of a much younger, severely battered and bruised Hutch. Oh my God. Hearing about the injuries his partner had suffered at the hands of his father had not prepared him to actually see the affects of that beating. Oh shit…oh shit. Crime photos. This is the file Dobey said he passed along.

Starsky mentally cataloged the injuries he was seeing. The right side of Hutch’s face was swollen and black and blue. His partner’s lip was split, his eye completely swollen closed. Fractured cheekbone. Concussion. Bruises continued down his neck and shoulder. He never said his father attempted to strangle him. Even with his ribs wrapped the bruises were readily visible on his chest and lower torso. Broken ribs. One arm was held in a sling. Dislocated shoulder. Starsky could feel himself beginning to tremble. The contrast between these photos and the ones Hutch had shown him last night was so sharp it hurt. Starsky couldn’t reconcile the images of Hutch laughing and happy with his grandparents and his obvious unease and pain in the shots Starsky was now holding.

Suddenly his mind flashed back to holding Hutch in that alley, blood seemingly everywhere, Hutch losing consciousness. His helpless rage, desperation and near panic were back in spades. The image in his mind changed and Starsky saw the bruises Hutch bore the next day when his lover needed his help to rewrap his broken ribs. The similarities between what Starsky remembered and what he was seeing in the photos he held, left him feeling like he’d just been kicked in the chest. Starsky couldn’t seem to breathe. His vision narrowed until all he could see were the pictures he was holding. He could hear Hutch calling his name, faintly as if from a great distance.

“Starsky…Starsky, come on. Answer me, damn it. Starsky, you’re starting to scare me here.”

Starsky felt himself reacting to that note of fear in his lover’s voice like he’d just been doused with cold water. He took a shuddering breath and then another. Dropping the photos he held, Starsky pulled Hutch into a tight embrace. Both of them ended up sitting on the floor.

Hutch enfolded him in his arms and hugged him tightly. “Shh…easy now. It’s okay, Starsky. It’s okay.” Hutch rocked him gently and ran soothing hands down Starsky’s back. Starsky tucked his head under Hutch’s chin and concentrated on listening to his lover’s heartbeat. Alive. Safe. He’s alive. He’s okay.

“Easy now. You’re all right. Shh…it’s okay. Just breathe. That’s it. Easy now.”

Starsky felt the elevator come to a halt and realized that Hutch had hit the stop button at some point. Starsky fought to pull himself together. He took a deep breath, inhaling Hutch’s scent. He let himself feel the solid, warm body holding him close. Starsky relaxed slightly listening to Hutch croon meaningless words of comfort. He shivered and Hutch held him closer.

He’s okay, Starsky. He’s not hurt. He’s okay. You know that. Photos were just a shock. Now pull yourself together, man. You’re scaring Hutch.

Slowly Starsky pulled back. Concerned blue eyes studied him, assessing. “You okay, now?” Hutch asked softly.

“Yeah.” Starsky took a deep breath. “Yeah. I’m okay.”

“You sure?” Hutch looked skeptical.

“No,” Starsky answered honestly, knowing better than to try lying.

Hutch accepted that. “Want to tell me what just happened here?”

“Just wasn’t prepared to see…” Starsky waved a hand to indicate the photos lying strewn around them.

“Ah.” Hutch nodded. “Caught you off guard?”

Starsky nodded. Oh, yeah. Did they ever. He was embarrassed by his lack of control. Hell, he’d seen crime photos of all kinds and dealt with hundreds of victims. But then none of those people ever meant to him even half as much as Hutch did. The idea that he could have lost the other half of his soul before he’d even had the chance to meet him just made Starsky feel sick. That he could have spent his entire life searching for that connection, lost and alone, scared the hell out of him.

Hutch shifted slightly. He ran a hand down Starsky’s back. “You gonna be okay here if I let go and gather up all this?”

Starsky scrubbed his face with both hands. “Yeah.” He resisted the urge to clutch Hutch when he moved away and began returning the scattered photos and paper to the folder. He could feel his hands trembling.

He watched Hutch organize the papers, but he noted his partner studiously avoided looking at the photos, placing them haphazardly in the folder. I’m not the only one who wasn’t ready to see those. “You all right?” Starsky asked.

Hutch shot him a startled glance. “Me? I’m fine.”

“You’re not looking at those either.” Starsky nodded to the photos Hutch still held. Hutch’s jaw was tight and his lips were held in a thin line. When he spoke his voice came out clipped. “Still remember what it felt like. Don’t need to see what it looked like. Don’t want to.”

Starsky could understand that. “Just stuff them in there. Dobey can sort them out.”

Hutch nodded. Once everything was collected, Hutch crouched down next to Starsky.

“You want to get off the floor?”

Starsky nodded. “Help me up, will ya?”

Hutch offered a hand and helped Starsky to his feet. Starsky could feel his knees shaking. God. Feel like I just ran a marathon. Starsky swayed and Hutch moved close to support him. Starsky swallowed hard. All that unspent adrenaline in his system was making its presence known.

“Hutch…l think…ltm going to be sick.” Starsky whispered, trying hard to control his body. He closed his eyes, not wanting to see the floor spin. He didn’t see Hutch hit the door button, but heard the doors open. He didn’t know what floor they were on and he didn’t care. Hutch tugged him somewhere and he followed blindly, trusting his partner to take him somewhere he could rehash breakfast.

Starsky opened his eyes and heaved into a large sink he found in front of him. God. I hate throwing up. Hutch kept a hand on his back and another on his abdomen, supporting him as his stomach rejected what held eaten earlier.

Finally, he didn’t have anything left to bring up. Starsky just breathed for a minute, grateful he wasn’t going to experience dry heaves on top of everything else. Hutch handed him a paper cup of water. He glanced around and realized they were in one of the forensic labs.

“Rinse your mouth.” Hutch tapped the cup gently.

Starsky obeyed, grateful he could wash that horrible taste out of his mouth.

Hutch turned the water on and nodded toward it. “Wash your face. It’ll help.”

Starsky did. The cool water felt wonderful. He dried his face with the paper towel held out to him. He didn’t struggle when Hutch guided him to a chair and forced him into it. He managed a weak smile when Hutch dug into one pocket, pulled out a peppermint and handed it to him. Since he quite smoking, Hutch always carried the candy in his pocket.

“Thanks.” The sugar would help ease his shaking and the flavor would do wonders for getting rid of the foul taste that still lingered.

Hutch crouched down, between Starsky’s legs, putting himself at eye level. He reached out a hand to Starsky. “Better?”

Not trusting himself to speak, Starsky closed his eyes and settled for nodding. He levered his eyes open. “Sorry.”

“‘S okay.” Hutch smiled softly, his eyes bright with love. “Been there. Done that. Next time we’ll switch places.”

Starsky chuckled. “Deal.”

Hutch leaned in and placed a gentle kiss on his lips. Like the kiss they shared that morning, this one wasn’t passionate but loving and warm, filled with promise of more to come. The soft sound of a throat clearing was the first indication they got that they were not alone. Starsky stiffened. When it rains it pours. If I didn’t already feel like crap, I would now.

He turned his head, and looked over to see who had been witness to their moment of indiscretion. Minnie. Starsky almost shrugged thinking it could be worse. The woman was a long time friend of both of them and had always seemed to show genuine affection for them. She was always ready to listen and offer sage advice. From her position by the door, Starsky guessed that she had entered only a few moments ago. So she probably hadn’t seen him tossing his cookies, but it was more than long enough to see something that couldn’t be explained away as being just good friends.

“Hi, Minnie.” Starsky managed to get out past the lump in his throat.

Hutch smiled at her. “Minnie.” Starsky was impressed that Hutch managed to look and sound so normal. Neat trick. Especially when the position we’re in is far from normal. She nodded. “Starsky. Hutch.” She didn’t look surprised or disgusted. Oh, please, dear God, let her be okay with us.

She looked concerned as she came closer studying both of them. “You boys okay? Starsky, you’re awfully pale.”

“I’m fine, Minnie.”

“Liar,” Hutch contradicted. “He just tossed his breakfast.”

Starsky glared at him. Hutch ignored the glare with practiced ease.

“Had a meeting upstairs. Went okay, but…” Hutch shrugged. He shared a look with Starsky. Starsky knew he was asking if he should go into details about what really upset him. Starsky shook his head ever so slightly. He doesn’t need to rehash that any more than I do.

“Could call it delayed stress. Or maybe whatever he ate for breakfast didn’t agree with him.”

Minnie raised an eyebrow, indicating she knew there was more, but she was willing to let it slide. She pursed her lips, staring at both of them, eyes traveling from one to the other. “So…how long have you two been more than friends?”

Starsky considered playing dumb but knew they’d never get away with it. Hutch must have come to the same conclusion. His hand dropped to squeeze Starsky’s thigh, offering reassurance, before answering her question.

“Remember that storm a few months back when the streets downtown were all flooded? It knocked out the power and shut down part of town.”

“I remember. I couldn’t get to work for nearly three days.”

Starsky picked up where Hutch left off. “Well…l couldn’t get home. Spent that time at the beach with Hutch. We…ah…well, got together the first night.”

Minnie’s eyes widened. “That was over six months ago.” She reached out and slapped Starsky’s arm. “You waited this long to tell me?”

Starsky winced and rubbed the spot she’d hit. He shifted slightly, moving to stand up and step back from her. “Now, Minnie, don’t get upset. It wasn’t nothin’ personal. We haven’t told anyone.”

“So…l’m the first to know?”

“Yeah. You’re the first to know.”

Starsky shifted nervously. He thought she looked pleased, delighted even, but he needed to be sure. “You’re okay with this? With us?”

Minnie smiled warmly at Starsky. She patted his arm. “Honey, I think it’s wonderful. You were so unhappy after Terry’s death.” She looked thoughtful. “I should have realized that you found someone when you didn’t seem quite so lonely any more.”

Minnie nodded as though she finally understood something. “Last few months you both seemed more content, at ease.” She cast a sly look at Starsky. “And I noticed those lingering glances you were giving Hutch when you thought he wasn’t looking.”

Starsky felt himself blush. Damn. I am never going to think that I can be discrete ever again. Wonder the whole building doesn’t know I was lusting after my partner.

“My friend,” she continued. “I’m happy you’ve found someone.” She took his hand, squeezed it gently, smiling affectionately. “After the shooting you went so far into that shell, I didn’t think you would ever come out. I worried that you’d just shut yourself down forever. I always thought Hutch was just what you needed. He fought with you the way you needed someone to. Pulled you kicking and screaming back into the land of the living. You’re good for each other,” Minnie declared calmly and with conviction. “You love each other, yes?”

Starsky made eye contact with Hutch. “Yes.”

Minnie smiled warmly. “Good. Love is love no matter what form it comes in. It is too rare a thing to not be enjoyed and appreciated.”

Starsky sagged with relief. Someone else knew about their relationship and was happy for them. Two for two today. I’m thinking I should buy a lottery ticket on the way home. 

“If I’m the first then…you haven’t told Dobey, yet?”

Hutch and Starsky both shook their heads.

“Why not? Surely you don’t think he’d have a problem with the two of you? Dobey may be a lot of things but a bigot definitely isn’t one of them.”

Hutch answered. “We don’t really think he’d have a hang up about Starsky and me, but I don’t want to work with anyone else. If he knew, odds are good held split us up. Department frowns on partners being personally involved. Been more than one bad example along those lines…enough that I don’t think Dobey would be willing to make an exception for us. Our being able to work together is more important than his knowing whom I’m sleeping with. I’ve got to know there is someone watching my back I can trust and I need for Starsky to have someone I trust watching his.”

“Hutch’s right, Minnie. He’s the best partner I’ve ever worked with. I can’t imagine working with anyone else. We’ve got a rhythm worked out, we understand each other, know how the other thinks and stuff clicks with Hutch that has never clicked with anyone else. We just can’t risk that he might split us up.”

Minnie frowned. “Not a good idea keeping this a secret from your supervisor.”

“Minnie, we’ve kept it this long.” Hutch shrugged. “Could probably keep it longer.”

She snorted. “Not if you’re not going to be a bit more…well, shall we say, circumspect.”

Starsky winced at that. “You could chalk this up to unusual circumstances. Very unusual.”

“I suppose so since you’ve managed to keep this under wraps for six months and no one apparently suspects anything. It’s obviously not affecting your ability to do the job. Still, I think, Dobey should know.”

“You’re not gonna to tell him, are you?” Hutch looked at Minnie, his expression slightly anxious. Hutch leaned one hip against the nearby counter, dropping an arm around Starsky’s shoulder. Starsky could feel the tension humming through that connection. Easy, Babe.

Minnie watched the byplay between them, but didn’t comment on it.

“No. I won’t tell him. Think it would be best coming from the two of you.”

Starsky felt Hutch relax and squeeze his hand gently.

“We would like to tell him.” Hutch said. “We just need to figure out how to convince him to keep us together. But…I’ve got to admit, I’m not exactly sure how to tell him.” Hutch’s mouth quirked in a half smile. “We could let him walk in on us, like you did, but that’s too damn hard to plan.”

Minnie laughed. “No way it would seem accidental if it were staged.” She sighed, turning serious again. “And I do see your point. Although, I think Dobey would be a fool to split the two of you up. You’ve got the best closure rate in the whole department.”

Hutch shrugged. “People have been fools over lesser things.”

“True enough.” Minnie conceded that point. ‘Tell you what…how about if I give this little problem some thought? I might be able to come up with something that will work.”

Hutch brightened at that. “Minnie, that would be great.”

Starsky smiled. Should never have doubted her. Should have expected that she’d offer to help. Might just be what we need. A fresh perspective on this.

“What about the other detectives in the bull pen?” Minnie asked.

Hutch shrugged. “I hadn’t honestly thought much about telling them. Sort of thought Dobey should be the first. If he split us up…well, odds are good we wouldn’t have to say much of anything at all, cause they’d already know. Gossip being what it is around here. Besides, there’s a good chance we wouldn’t be staying around.”

Minnie nodded. “Good point.” Gossip in a police station had a tendency to run rampant. “Okay. I’ll work on a way for you to tell Dobey, without having him split you up. Don’t have any idea how long that will take, but I’m sure I can come up with something. Once he knows, do you want to let the others in?”

Hutch looked at Starsky. “I don’t think that would be a good idea.”

Starsky nodded. “Neither do I. I think we still need to be careful. Not everyone is as open minded as you, Minnie.”

Minnie nodded. “Okay. That’s settled.” She studied Starsky critically for a moment, assessing. “You’re sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah. I’m okay.” He already felt better. He didn’t feel nauseous any more and the earlier emotional chaos had passed. Feeling pretty good actually. Surprisingly good.

“Then you two better get back to where you belong before someone notices you’re missing. Wouldn’t want them to send out a search party for you.”

“I expect Dobey might be looking for us soon to find out how our meeting upstairs went.”

Oh, yeah. He’s definitely going to want to know the outcome of that meeting. Starsky offered a slight prayer of gratitude to God for that meeting going so well. Both of them bent down to place a kiss on Minnie’s cheek.

“Thanks, Minnie. You’re the best.”

“Thank you, Minnie.”

She smiled warmly at them both. “You’re welcome. I am so happy for both of you. And, I’ll let you know when I come up with something.”

Hutch grinned, and tossed over his shoulder, “Looking forward to it.”

Together Starsky and Hutch left the lab. Back to the elevator. I get the feeling the only thing I’ll get done today is ride around in this damn box. A stray thought came to him as Hutch hit the button for their floor. No. It won’t be the only thing I’ll get done today.

“Hey, Hutch? Can we make a stop on the way home tonight?”

“Sure. You want to pick up something for dinner?”

“No. I need to get a frame.”

“Frame?” Hutch raised an eyebrow.

“Picture frame. For the photo you gave me last night. I want to be able to hang that at my place.”

Hutch smiled obviously pleased that Starsky would want to display something he’d given him. “Sure. We can stop somewhere and get one.”

“Good. ” Should pick up a camera too. I want more photos of this man. Happy photos. Enough to fill an entire wall. Enough to outnumber the bad.

Since they were alone in the elevator, Starsky reached out and pulled Hutch into a quick, fierce hug. He wanted a moment of contact to reassure his partner. We’re okay. “I love you, Blondie.” Starsky whispered in Hutch’s ear.

“Love you, too, Starsk.”

With a resigned sigh, Starsky let go and stepped away. “Ready to get back to work?”

Hutch chuckled and shook his head slightly. “Yeah. More than ready. You?”

Starsky nodded. “Together, right?”

“Always.”

Starsky echoed that sentiment. “Always.”

One more hurdle taken care of. And As long as we’re together, there’s nothing we cant handle. Nothing. Buoyed by that thought, Starsky stepped off the elevator on their floor, ready to get back to what they did best. He shared a smile with Hutch, knowing his partner felt the same way. Day has turned out better than either of us expected.

“Remind me to buy a lottery ticket on the way home?”

Hutch smiled, and winked at him. “Starsk, you don’t need a ticket to get lucky.”

Starsky couldn’t resist that smile, his heart beating a little faster at that sly wink. It held a promise of what would come when they got home. Starsky was suddenly very eager for the end of the workday. Better hope nothing comes up that delays our leaving on time. I’m just going to have to kill someone if that happens.

“Come on, Starsky. Sooner we get to work, sooner we can go home.” Hutch headed for Dobey’s office.

Starsky nodded, following his partner, friend, and lover. He was all for anything that would get them home sooner. Starsky licked his lips in anticipation. Today was definitely a better day than I’d expected. Truth is, it’s been a good day. A very good day. Letting his eyes wander over the other half of his soul, simply enjoying the view, Starsky smiled. And it looks like its just going to keep getting better.

 

Chapter 8

I never thought I’d be this happy to see Bay City. Never say never, I guess, because I am definitely happy to be back. Seeing the sign for the city limits is like getting a glimpse of heaven. Pulling into the turn off for the beach is even better.

I’d just spent the last four days in San Francisco. Which, ordinarily, I wouldn’t have objected to. It’s a very beautiful bustling city with excellent Italian restaurants and several above average restaurants that specialize in authentic oriental cuisine.

To me, San Francisco has a European look to it, with the rolling hills and cable cars. It feels totally different from Bay City. The pace of life here in Bay City is slower, more relaxed, than other large cities I’d been to. San Francisco seemed to be such a wonderful and romantic place. Which just well and truly sucked because I couldn’t enjoy it. I was there alone. My lover, my partner, my best friend, the one person who’s company would have made being there worthwhile, couldn’t be there with me.

One of our cases got just a little too much local press coverage. The lawyers wanted a change of venue, hoping for an unbiased jury. The judge decided on San Francisco. I guess he thought it was far enough away from Bay City that the jury pool would be ignorant of the case. Since I’d been the primary investigator they picked me to go testify.

Captain Dobey didn’t see the need for both Starsky and me to go. And neither one of us could come up with a really good reason why he should send us both.

He doesn’t know that we’re more than just partners and friends. At least, not yet since, even with Minnie’s help, we haven’t come up with a plan to tell him without having him split us up. Our number one priority is that we continue working together. His knowing that we’re lovers…well, it takes a back seat. Besides, even if he did know, he’d want an “official reason” to send both of us and we didn’t have one. So I went solo.

Unlike Starsky, I used to enjoy being on my own. I’m simply a solitary person. Part of my upbringing, I suppose. Due to my father’s neglect and abuse, I avoided being around people. I was usually alone as a child and this carried over into my adult life. I spent a large part of my life constantly avoiding getting too close to anyone, that is until I met Starsky. Even before we became lovers, I found I really enjoyed his companionship. Then after… well, shipping me off to San Francisco by myself is a little like being punished, as though I were being sent to my room. I hated that as a child and I don’t really care for it as an adult.

I spent most of the time sitting in court worrying about my partner. I didn’t want him on the streets without me. He takes too many risks if someone isn’t there to watch him. He accuses me of doing the same thing. Says he has to watch out for me or I’ll get myself killed.

Dobey mentioned that he planned to loan him out to SWAT while I was gone. My partner is the best shot on the force. People say I am but in truth Starsky is a much better marksmen than I. The SWAT team leader, Captain Joe Perkins, has been trying to recruit both Starsky and me for years, but with no success so far. He told Dobey he wanted Starsky to give some pointers to his new marksman.

Taking out paper targets and teaching rookies isn’t dangerous, but I worried anyway. What if Perkins finally convinced Starsky he should transfer to SWAT? I couldn’t handle not working with him. I’d be a basket case worrying about him every day.

And the whole idea of getting a new partner just made me sick to my stomach.

What if while he was just “helping out” SWAT, they got sent out on a call? Would the team back up my partner as well as I would? Would they be able to read him well enough to know what he was going to do? What if he got hurt? The man was so good at hiding pain they might not know he was injured. Was some one making sure he consumed more than sodas and junk food. On his own, Starsky’s dietary habits tended to go straight to hell. He either eats next to nothing or eats stuff so loaded with fat and cholesterol you can almost hear his arteries hardening.

I had been so lost in those thoughts that I honestly have no idea what went on in court despite sitting there for three solid days waiting to testify. I couldn’t tell you if the Assistant DA did well or not. Hell, I couldn’t even tell you what the perp’s lawyer was using as a defense. I managed to get my head in the game when I was finally called to the stand, but other than that, I have absolutely no memory of what went on in court.

The worst part was, the whole time I was there, I couldn’t sleep worth a damn. I’ve gotten used to sleeping with Starsky. I missed curling up to him, feeling his warmth, hearing him breathe. I missed being able to watch him fall asleep, seeing him relax and feeling him snuggling in close to me. I know it’s weird, but I think I missed his scent most of all. It was something I’d come to associate with being loved, with comfort and home. It was like a blanket of contentment that wrapped itself around me the minute I walked in the door. There’s no way in hell a hotel room could ever measure up to that.

We talked every night, but talking to him over the phone just wasn’t the same. I missed seeing the smile I could hear. I missed watching those beautiful blue eyes sparkle. Always a tactile person, I missed being able to just touch him as we talked. Nothing major…just a hand on his shoulder, a pat on the back…little stuff that I do without even thinking about it. I really, really missed watching the light play through his dark curls and running my fingers through that silk. I wanted to be able to lean over and kiss him; to taste those lips.

I could no longer seem to live without.

We covered a wide range of topics when we talked. Food, sights I’d seen in San Francisco, mutual friends, weekend plans, how well the game that night was played, mundane details like paying bills and sorting through the mail, remodeling plans for the house, investment possibilities and messages left by his family on the answering machine or at work…anything and everything was fair game. It one of the reasons I always enjoy our conversations.

Even when I’m in town, we try to connect like that every night, usually at the dinner table. To really be able to talk to one another is something I’d never managed to achieve in any other romantic relationship, yet with Starsky it’s so easy. Something about the kitchen just seems to encourage our conversations. We connect there on a level that simply didn’t seem possible anywhere else.

Since I wasn’t there, I had made a point of asking how his day went. It wasn’t something I normally had to ask and it felt decidedly weird to be in a position where I really didn’t know what had happened during his day. I had to rely on his perception of things, which to date have never matched mine. It makes us a good team that we can see the same situation differently, come at things from diverse angles, but over the phone it’s frustrating trying to understand what went on when I only have what he’ll tell me to go by. Sometimes getting information from him is like pulling teeth. He was enjoying teaching the rookie, but he was also bored with it. It wasn’t like working a case. I could sympathize, but I was secretly thrilled to know he was bored. If he was bored that meant he wasn’t on the streets. Being bored meant he wasn’t involved in anything he’d need back up for. I was relieved to hear that he still didn’t want to work with SWAT and I was in no danger of losing my partner to them.

He’d ask how the case was going and I told him it was fine. At least I thought it was fine. Hell, I didn’t really know but I didn’t want to tell him I’d been spending so much time worrying about him that I had no idea if we were winning or losing.

He always said that he hoped they wrapped it up soon and that it would be good to have me home. He never said he missed me, at least not directly. I didn’t say it to him either. Guess both of us are afraid of sounding too needy. Stupid. I need the man like I need air, but I’m afraid to say it. We never hung up without saying ‘I love you’, though. Ever.

Despite the fact that I didn’t get out of court until five, I headed for home. I wasn’t spending another night tossing and turning when I could be sleeping with him. Or not sleeping as the case was more likely to be. I might not be able to say I missed him, but I could show him. I tried calling the office, but he’d already left. Tried to catch him at the house and his apartment, but he must not have gotten home yet or was at the gym working out. So I left a message on both the machines letting him know I’d be home tonight. Come hell or high water, I was not spending another night alone.

I had figured it was a three and a half-hour drive back to Bay City and I’d be at the beach in time to have a late supper with him. Unfortunately, I hadn’t counted on there being a major accident along the highway. A semi and three cars piled up blocking traffic heading both north and south. Traffic was backed up for more than two hours. I was tempted to take out my gun and shoot a few people, but I managed to control myself.

As soon as I got free of that mess, I put the gas pedal to the floor and left it there. Nice thing about Starsky’s Torino…it might be small, but she could fly when you asked her to. Nothing like a nice flat, straight stretch of highway to find out just how fast she could go. Even though I never let the speedometer dip below 90, I still didn’t get to the beach until almost midnight.

I can’t help but smile when I see that Starsky has left the porch light on for me. I grab my stuff and head for the door. I shake my head when I realize he didn’t bother to lock the door. Even though it makes me feel warm all over knowing that he left it unlocked for me, we’re still going to have to stop doing that. It isn’t safe.

I hang my keys on the hook by the door, slip out of my shoes and set my bag down. I can just barely hear the TV in the living room and except for the hall light, the house is dark. I sneak in, trying not to make much noise, wanting to surprise my lover.

My breath catches when I see him sound asleep on the couch. He’s lying on his side, one leg drawn up, the other fully extended, snuggled in tight against the back of the couch. He’s wearing the flannel robe that he’s more or less claimed as his. His feet and what I can see of his lower legs are bare. Knowing he Ili probably isn’t wearing anything else under that robe, I can feel myself getting hard.

I walk over, turn down the TV and perch on the couch next to him. I stare at his face, memorizing every feature, each little detail. His normal olive colored skin is golden in the light flickering from the TV. His high cheekbones are casting faint shadows. I trace the clean line of his jaw and his nose with my eyes. I spend several minutes just taking in the beauty of his decidedly kissable lips and then I move onto the faint lines around his eyes that crinkle when he laughs. His hair is a riot of curls that frame his face.

He doesn’t think he’s beautiful, but I discount his opinion on that score. To me he looks like a Greek god. I reach out a hand to gently brush an errant curl off his forehead. I can’t resist the urge to run my fingers through his hair, reveling in the feel of those silken strands. He says my name with a quiet sigh and shifts slightly, pushing into my hand like a cat encouraging someone to pet it.

I lean forward slightly and breathe deeply. His scent is like an exotic perfume, a unique blend of fragrances. I’ve never been able to name them all. There is usually leather, from either his gun holster or his jacket. There is almost always a clean sweat scent that in the heat and humidity of southern California is nearly a constant. I can pick out faint traces of his soap and shampoo. I was surprised to learn he uses products with a vanilla nut fragrance. I used to associate that with potpourri or cooking, but on him, it is a subtle, faint musk and very appealing. There is something else that I have never been able to identify that is uniquely Starsky. It reminds me of sunshine and the fresh taste of the wind that blows off the ocean in the winter. Don’t know how else to describe it.

I reach to untie his robe, pulling it open slightly so I can see all of him. I was right. He isn’t wearing anything else. His beautiful body is exposed for my eyes like a feast. Not an ounce of extra flesh on him anywhere. I swallow hard as my eyes take in his elegant lines and his beautiful ass, which is only partially revealed by his current position. The well-muscled thigh of his drawn up right leg modestly hides his genitals from me.

I let my hand ghost over his chest. As always, I am enchanted by the way his skin feels. So warm, soft and smooth. No one has ever felt as good to me as he does.

He stretches slightly, arching into my touch, but doesn’t wake. Good. I don’t want him to wake up just yet. I haven’t had my fill of just looking, or touching. When he wakes up, he’ll want to touch me. That isn’t a bad thing. It’s just distracting. I find myself getting lost in his touch and I want to enjoy the way he feels before that happens.

I gently caress one dusky pink nipple. I am rewarded with another sigh and a faint peaking of that little mound under my thumb. His nipples are sensitive and I have to be careful not to pay too much attention to them. I let my hand drift up and down his torso, delighting in the quiet sighs and moans I get in response to my touch.

I gently caress his hip and thigh, trying to encourage him to stretch out and reveal the treasure hidden there. The muscles twitch under my hand and I enjoy the solid feel of them. Even though I run every day, I don’t have the same type of definition in my legs he does. His muscles are more developed, powerful and some would say sculpted. He isn’t bulky, or over done, just beautifully proportioned.

I feel the flex of his thigh as he straightens out his leg. I move my hand to gently cup his balls, enjoying the feel of the wiry, dark curls that they are nested in. His cock is growing hard and I watch as it fills out. I stroke it lightly, teasing it to fill out even more.

Unable to resist any longer, I lean in to kiss him and his mouth opens for me. We are sharing a breath before I dive in to taste him. Love the way he tastes.

My tongue immediately begins mapping that well loved territory. He sucks on my tongue and I moan into his mouth, deepening the kiss.

Pulling back, I look into loving blue eyes heavy lidded with both sleep and passion. He smiles at me and shifts a little so he’s now lying on his back.

I knew the kiss would wake him. Just like in the story. “Hey, there, sleeping beauty.”

“Hey, there, yourself.” His voice is husky, a little rough. I shiver hearing that tone. It gets to me every time. He stretches slowly, languid and I suck in a breath caught off guard by the surge of lust I feel just watching him.

“Thought I was dreaming.” Again that wonderful raspy voice sends a shiver down my spine.

I smile. “Was it a good dream?”

He sighs softly. “Yeah. Got even better waking up.” He reaches out with one hand to caress my arm. “Didn’t mean to fall asleep.”

“You were waiting for me?”

He nods. “What time is it?”

“Midnight.”

“You just got here?”

“Yeah. Got stuck in traffic for a while.” I lean into his touch, feels even better than I’d remembered. “There was an accident on the highway.”

“You okay?”

I open my eyes, not even realizing I’d closed them. I can see the concern in his. They were no longer sleepy or quite so dark with passion.

“I’m fine. Happened before I got there. Just had to wait out the clean up.” I don’t want him to worry and I don’t want to disrupt the mood that had been building between us.

His eyes roam over me, checking for any damage, before he believes me. He doesn’t take my word for it anymore than I am likely to take his. Neither of us is ever willing to admit to pain or injury.

“You hungry?”

“Very.” I lean in for another kiss. “But not for food.” I plunder his mouth for a second time. I stretch out full length, letting my weight rest on him, enjoying the full body contact and the feel of him against me. His hands work in between us, trying to undo the buttons of my shirt. I brace myself on my elbows and lift up a little to give him better access. He jerks the tails of my shirt out of my pants and I moan softly when those wonderfully talented, incredible hands of his start moving over my chest and back. He somehow manages to do feather light caresses and a massaging touch at the same time.

Starsky pulls away from the kiss and hugs me hard, wrapping his legs around me. He nuzzles my neck, licking and biting lightly as he goes. He starts moving his hips, grinding against me. I gasp at that friction. It feels so good. I find myself effortlessly matching his rhythm.

“Need to…get my…pants off,” I manage to gasp out. I don’t want him to let go, but I won’t be able to finish getting undressed if he doesn’t. Haven’t come in my clothes since I was a teenager and I’m not about to again, if I can help it.

Starsky unwinds his legs from around me and I feel bereft when he does. I quickly strip out of the rest of my cloths. I am wrapped up in his warmth again in almost no time at all.

His tongue is lapping at my chest like a cat eating cream. I arch my back trying to get closer to that warm, rough heat. His hands are busy roaming over my back and then gently kneading my ass. It feels so incredibly good.

I want to immerse myself in him. To taste, touch, see, to smell, everything. I like hearing his breathy little cries as I move my hands over his chest and begin rubbing his nipples. They peak into hardness almost immediately responding to my caress. I dive in for another kiss, drinking in the taste of him, our tongues engaging in a lazy duel.

I raise my head to catch my breath and look at him. His skin is now flushed, and seems to glow faintly in the flickering light provided by the TV. His pupils are so dilated that his eyes look black. I swallow hard, trying to regain some level of control.

He smiles seductively at me and drops a hand to stroke my leaking cock. I block his hand and shake my head. “You touch me…and I…won’t last. Want this…to last.” I pant, unable to control my breathing. I can’t believe I am so close already.

He shrugs one shoulder. His smile is soft, inviting. “Can always do it again, Hutch. Just keep practicin’…till we get it right.”

I chuckle at that. “Practice makes perfect.”

“Exactly.” His smile gets a little wider. He reaches out and again I block his hand.

“Want to…want to come inside you, Babe.” I want to be totally immersed in my lover and I need that in the worst way.

“Please? May l?” I always have to ask. I never want to assume that it would be okay, to just take him for granted. Having been on the receiving end, I know how pleasurable it can be, but I also know how vulnerable it can make you feel.

He pats my chest. It’s a gesture of comfort, reassurance. “For you, Blondie, anything.” It warms me all over to know he trusts me so much. That he loves me that much.

He points to the coffee table. I glance over, noticing for the first time the bottle of lube sitting there.

“Sorta figured we might not make it to the bedroom,” he says smiling up at me.

I lean down and place a quick kiss on the tip of his nose. “Smart. Very smart man.”

“I know.” He chuckles. That chuckle quickly becomes a moan when I bend down to suck one of his nipples. His hands come up and run through my hair, massaging my scalp. Feels so good when he does that.

I blindly reach for the lube. I quickly coat my fingers and ease one digit into his tight heat. He sighs softly and begins to fuck himself on my finger. I let him do that for a few minutes before inserting a second finger. Carefully loosening him up. I struggle for control. I don’t want to hurt him by rushing this.

Three fingers in and I brush his prostate. He shudders once; his whole body seems to vibrate. His head tips back, exposing the pulse point in his neck. I can’t resist sucking on that spot. He shudders again and I growl, wanting to mark him. I don’t care if anyone sees that mark. Hell, I want them to see it. He’s mine.

I remove my fingers and he whimpers, a faint sound of loss and distress.

“Easy, Babe.” I lube myself, careful not to touch any more than necessary. I wasn’t kidding when I told him I didn’t think I’d last. I pinch the head of my dick just hard enough to ease myself back from the brink a little. With one long, slow, sensuous roll of my hips, I slide home into my lover’s heat. I hold myself there, letting him adjust. He wraps his legs around my waist and keeps me still for an endless moment. I only start to move when he moves.

Slowly rolling my hips in and out, I’m enjoying the feel of being so totally connected to him. This was what I’d been craving for the past few days. There was nothing between us. We were as close to being one as possible.

His hand runs down my arm until he captures my lubed fingers. He entangles our fingers, rubbing his over mine, coating them with the left over lube. I understand why when he reaches around and begins letting his fingers rim my hole. He slides one finger in and I shudder. God!! I hadn’t realized how good that would feel. Buried deep in him and having him inside me at the same time was mind blowing.

“Sweet Jesus,” I moan loudly. Totally lost in the sensations. “Feels good…God, Starsk…so good. Love the way…you feel. Been dreaming…wanting this…for days.”

I start pumping harder and faster. His fingers follow my every move, sliding in and out. I can feel those little tremors starting in him that herald his coming orgasm. I reach a hand between us and stroke his cock. I jack it once, twice. Those little tremors graduate to full body shudders.

“Hutch…Hutch…I’m…almost there…so close…I’m gonna…Hutch!”

His fingers brush my prostate and I just can’t hold back anymore. Starsky’s own climax and corresponding internal contractions send me over the edge. I’m coming hard enough to see stars.

I collapse on his chest and lay there listening to his heart while I try to catch my breath. I can’t believe I was over thirty before experiencing sex this good. I mentally correct myself…the sex was never as good because I really never loved anyone quite the way I love Starsky. We never had just sex, ever. It was so much more than that.

He gently caresses my arm, running his hand from shoulder to elbow over and over. His touch is almost hypnotic and I snuggle in closer. I’m still buried deep within him and I’m not ready to let go yet. I could just stay like this forever. I feel Starsky move his head to nuzzle my hair. I smile at that. Feels nice. I am as near to being boneless as humanly possible.

After a while, Starsky shifts slightly. I’m thin, but I’m no lightweight either. Supporting all my weight is bound to be uncomfortable after awhile. We should probably get cleaned up anyway. Reluctantly, I move to ease away from him. He tightens his grip, halting my movement

I tilt my head to look up at him. His eyes are closed and he looks totally sated, practically asleep. I go to move and again he stops me. I tap a finger against his chest to get his attention and he opens his eyes.

“You want to take a shower with me?”

“Sure.” He doesn’t move at all other than to close his eyes.

I grin at that and tap his chest again. He opens his eyes once more. “I meant take one now.”

He takes a deep breath. “Kay.” It comes out as more of a sigh than anything else. I manage to get to my feet and offer him a hand, helping him off the couch. He makes it to his feet, but leans against me. He wraps his arms around me and snuggles in close.

He whispers so softly, I almost can’t hear him, “Glad you’re home. Missed you.”

I am speechless for just a moment, stunned. I hadn’t expected that. I give myself a mental shake and get my brain working. “Missed you, too, Babe.”

I return his hug, pulling him in even closer. He snuggles in to me and I revel in the feel of him, warm and solid. When he moves to pull away, I find myself reluctant to let go. I sigh softly when he shifts out of my embrace.

He turns off the TV. I wrap an arm around him and together we wonder down the hall to the bathroom. Flipping on the bright lights makes both of us blink a little owlishly.

He unhooks the chain to his pendant and lays it carefully on the vanity. With his back to me, he shrugs out of my robe and hangs it on the hook on the door. When he turns around, a dark purple bruise on his upper left arm and shoulder stands out in harsh contrast to his skin tone. I hadn’t noticed it earlier because the dim light in the living room and the robe he’d been wearing hid it rather well.

“What happened here?” I ask as I point toward the bruise.

Starsky shrugs. “Nothing.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Nothing doesn’t leave bruises.”

He rolls his eyes at that. “Ain’t no big deal, Hutch.”

“So tell me what happened then?” I keep my tone firm. It’s the only way I’ll get an answer.

“Starsky. Tell. Me. What. Happened.” I’m not going to let this go, and he knows that. He scowls at me, but gives in and tells me what I want to know. “Kid I was workin’ with wanted to try out some of the older weapons. Was bound and determined to use ’em all. Tried to talk him out of it, but he wouldn’t listen.”

He shakes his head, whether in disgust or disbelief, I’m not sure. He rolls his shoulder slightly, wincing as he does it. My eyes narrow seeing him wince.

His left shoulder is more sensitive to injury since the shooting. I know he can’t sleep on that side because of it and that it often bothers him more than he admits.

His mouth quirks up slightly. I recognize that mischievous expression. “One of those rifles kicks like a mule. Gotta brace yourself for it. Didn’t tell the kid that though. Knocked him on his ass first time he fired it”

Serves him right, I thought a little viciously. “You okay?”

“Yeah. Just a bruise.” He grins. “Hit my target dead center.”

Naturally. His grin widens a little. “Won a hundred bucks on that shot, too.”

Both my eyebrows go up. He isn’t the type to gamble. He’s far too careful with his money now than he used to be.

“You made a bet?”

“Yep. Kid thought he knew it all. Told him that he still wasn’t as good a shot as I am. Wasn’t bragging, just the truth.”

I nod my head at that. I knew he wasn’t bragging. If this kid had been as good as Starsky then Captain Perkins wouldn’t still be trying to get my partner to sign on with SWAT.

“I got more than ten years experience on the force. And I been shootin’ guns since I was five. Handled damn near every kind of firearm at one time or another. But he seemed to think none of that mattered. Reckon he thought he could kick my ass.”

“So…you decided to prove him wrong?” I try to sound disapproving, while just barely hiding a smile. My partner isn’t one to let a challenge like that go unanswered.

He shrugs, unapologetic. “Kid needed to be taught a lesson. Figured it might stick better if I hurt more than his pride.”

I shake my head at that. Leave it to my partner to only make a sure bet as a lesson and not for profit. I adjust the water temperature before I motion for him to get in the shower. I step in behind him. “When did all this happen?” He never said anything about this when we talked on the phone.

“This afternoon.”

Ah. Missed him at work and then got stuck in traffic. So, he wasn’t keeping things from me because this is really the first time we’ve had to talk all day.

Although, I suspect that he probably wouldn’t have mentioned being bruised, if I hadn’t made it home tonight. The bet…most likely. The bruise…definitely not.

“Anything else happen today that I should know about?” I ask as I reach for the soap and begin lathering his back.

He lets his head fall forward at my touch, so when he speaks, his voice is muffled slightly. “Minnie and Johnson finally got a break on the Knight case. Looks like they might be able to put that one to bed soon.”

“Good.” Minnie and Johnson had been working that case for the past two weeks. It was an ugly porn ring. About time they had a break in it. I move my hands, massaging his neck and shoulders, before gliding down to his lower back.

“They’re gonna keep workin’ with Vice for another week. Hoping something will pan out by then or they’re gonna call it off.”

I hate porn cases. I’m not sorry we didn’t get called for that one. I kneel down to wash his legs and ass. He leans forward and braces his arms against the wall, letting the warm water cascade down his back. I love seeing him like that.

Someday I’m going to convince him to let me photograph him naked.

“Dobey spent the day meeting with the brass. Monthly stuff. Just the usual. You know how much those all day meetings piss him off. So I just stayed out of the office as much as possible.”

Dobey never came back from those monthly meetings in a good frame of mind. Nearly everyone made a point of avoiding him for a day or two until he was back to normal. I plan to keep my head down tomorrow in case he’s still angry and looking for someone to take it out on. I hate getting chewed out especially when I haven’t actually done anything wrong.

I get back up and tap his shoulder. “Turn around.” He sighs and pushes off from the wall, turning around as he does. I lather his chest and abdomen, careful of the bruise on his shoulder. I see him flinch slightly at my touch, despite my care.

“Hurts?”

“It’s okay.”

I snort at that. I study the bruise. It doesn’t look bad, but being his left shoulder…that’s enough. I make a mental note to ask him about it again tomorrow. I work my way down his arms to his hands. I kneel again to wash the rest of him, taking care to remove all evidence of our recent lovemaking.

He reaches down to help me back up and he turns me so that now I’m under the water. He takes the soap and begins lathering my chest. I love the feel of his hands. Like his kisses, his touch can convey so much. It isn’t sexual at the moment, but rather relaxing, soothing, familiar. I know he’s memorizing me. His hands follow contours and muscle lines, the same way I mapped him with my eyes earlier when I was just looking at him on the couch.

I close my eyes so I can enjoy this more. He manages to find tension spots and sore muscles, gently easing away those aches and pains. I’ve never told him but I sometimes think he missed his calling. The man would make an outstanding masseuse. Just as well; I couldn’t stand to let him touch someone else. I’m way too possessive for that.

He taps my shoulder and I open my eyes. “Turn around so I can do your back.” I was so lost in his touch, I never even noticed he’d finished with my front. I turn, letting him work his magic on my back. I can’t help but moan at how good that feels. His hands work their way down my back, my ass, my thighs and calves.

God, that feels so good my skin tingles.

It gets even better when he reaches around me to grab the shampoo. There is something so damn intimate about having him wash my hair. I feel so loved, cherished even, when he does it.

The water is starting to cool when we finally get out. I shiver slightly at the temperature change, reaching for a towel to dry off. As usual, I’m finished before he is.

“You didn’t say if you got dinner. You want something to eat?”

“Nah. Just want to go to bed.” I’m suddenly exhausted. The long drive and the last four nights of little sleep are catching up to me.

He studies me, his head cocked to one side. I’m not sure what he sees, but based on the little frown that appears, it can’t be good. “You have trouble sleeping while you were gone?”

I shrug. I’ve never really told him that I can’t sleep well when he isn’t there. I wrap the towel around my waist and tum toward the mirror. I see him smile and he leans forward to wrap his arms around me. Our eyes meet in the mirror.

“Yeah. Me, too.” He says softly before kissing my shoulder. He lets go and puts his pendant back on before he heads for the bedroom. The man never ceases to surprise me.

I hang up the towel and join him in the bedroom. He’s already under the covers, curled up on his side. I slide in behind him, wrap an arm around him and spoon in close. He snuggles closer to me and I sigh in satisfaction. I nuzzle his neck and let myself simply enjoy being next to him. He raises a hand to pat mine.

“Sweet dreams, Blondie.”

Oh, indeed. Sweet dreams. Back where I belong, how could I have anything else?

“Love you.” He whispers. I can tell he is just barely awake, but then so am I. I kiss his shoulder. “Love you, too, David.”

* * * *

I wake up at my usual time, in the same position I fell asleep, on my side with Hutch spooned around me. I just lay there for a few minutes enjoying the feeling of having him back where he belongs. Bed seemed way too cold and empty without him there. I know I didn’t sleep well in his absence. I slept on the couch most of the time he was in San Francisco.

I shift slightly, trying to pull out of his hold. He mumbles something, and tightens his grip. I try again and manage to slip out of his arms. He makes this little sound of loss, a kind of an unhappy sigh when I do. He moves one arm as though he’s searching for me. I hand him my pillow and he pulls it in close. I lean down to softly kiss his temple. Love being able to do that.

He still seems a bit restless. “Shhh…it’s early yet. Go back to sleep.” I whisper in his ear, like he does me nearly every morning. I run my fingers through his hair again and he settles right down.

I slip on a pair of my old jeans and grab a T-shirt out of the dresser. Pulling on my shirt makes me clench my jaw against the pain in my shoulder. It’s stiff and sore this morning like I knew it would be. Old wounds always seem to hurt more first thing in the morning and the last thing at night. Add to that the bruise on my shoulder from firing that rifle and it’s unusually sore this morning. I have to be sure to keep that from Hutch or he’ll go all mother hen on me today.

I head for the kitchen and start the coffee. Past few days I spent a lot of time here. I gave the whole place a thorough cleaning, top to bottom.

Between work and working here at the house, I was able to keep busy so I wouldn’t miss Hutch too much. Well…leastwise I didn’t think about missing him all the time, just whenever I quit moving.

While he was gone, I kept looking over my shoulder expecting him to be there. I kept expecting to hear him commenting on or pointing out something I might have missed. I must have caught myself turning to say something to him at least twenty times a day before I remembered he wasn’t there.

In a way, it was a good thing I was working with SWAT. It wasn’t part of my normal routine, so I didn’t feel quite so weird or alone by not having him here. The one day I spent at Parker Center without Hutch I must have been asked a hundred times, “Where’s Hutch?” Guess I’m not the only one who expects us to be together.

I get up from the table and go for my second cup of coffee. I take it with me to the back porch. I set the cup down on the rail and do a few stretches to work loose my shoulder. Hurts like hell, but it gets easier after a while. Best to do this where Hutch can’t see me do it. He’d likely have a fit if he knew how much it bothered me at times. He’d really be pissed if he knew that it took more than one shot from that damn rifle to bruise me. Had to prove to the kid that my first shot wasn’t just dumb luck. Shot ten rounds and kept the spread under three inches.

I rinse my cup and then grab a fast shower. It isn’t nearly as nice as the one we shared last night, but it’ll do. The hot water works out the last bit of stiffness in my shoulder.

When I lather up to shave, I catch sight of the mark he left on my neck last night. I remember him doing it, but I didn’t realize it would be quite so visible. Short of wearing a turtle neck there isn’t any way I’ll be able to hide it. It’s too damn warm to wear one of those this time of year. It would raise just as many questions as the hickey. Ah, well, nothing to be done about it now. Hell, most everybody will just think I got lucky. I smile and wink at my reflection. I did get lucky, just won’t be the way they think.

I get dressed for work, careful to be quiet so I don’t wake him. I sit down on the bed next to him and just watch him sleep for a while. The man is so beautiful. My fingers itch to touch, but I don’t want to wake him.

His lips curl up slightly and I see his eyes open. They look almost indigo in this light. The color of his eyes changes so often, it reminds me of a kaleidoscope I had as a kid. Can never get enough of looking at It them or into them for that matter. I’ve seen his eyes change to an icy blue when he’s angry, a slate gray when he’s hurt or in pain, a sky blue when he’s in a good mood, to deep almost Caribbean blue when he’s really happy. I like them best the way they are right now…so dark they’re almost black.

“Morning, Hutch.”

He takes a deep breath and stretches. “Morning,” he mutters, still more asleep than awake.

I smile. If I sit still for a few minutes he’ll be asleep again in no time. Normally, he’d set the alarm clock but I don’t really think he’ll need it today. Just want him to know I’m heading out.

“I’m gonna head into work.”

He opens one eye, glances at the clock, then back to me. He frowns slightly, eyebrows pulling down in confusion. It’s a good hour before the time we normally leave. ‘Wha—? Now?”

“Yeah.”

“Give me fifteen minutes.” He starts to sit up and moves to throw back the covers. I reach out to stop him, placing my hand on his chest and pushing him back down.

“No hurry, Babe. You can sleep in if you want. You have the morning off, remember? You don’t need to show up until around lunchtime. No one was expecting you back last night but me. I didn’t just want to leave without telling you I was going.”

I had already guessed that he didn’t sleep too well while he was away. I saw how tired he looked last night. I thought he could probably use a few more hours of rest.

He puts a knuckle under my chin and forces me to look at him, pulling me in for a kiss. This one isn’t soft or gentle. I somehow end up lying on top of him trying to suck out his tonsils. He flips us over and pins me down while he ravages my mouth.

When he moves his hands to start stripping me out of my clothes, I capture his wrists to stop him. “Can’t. I got to be in…early today.”

He growls against my neck. “Why?”

“Last day I’m working with SWAT. Perkins wants to run through some drills with the kid. Gotta be there. Sorry.”

He sighs and drops his head to my chest. “Not your fault. Just bad timing.”

Can’t argue with that. Timing stinks. I pull him in as close as the blankets bunched between us will allow. He raises his head again and kisses me. It’s sweet, a tease. “You really gotta go?” He’s using that tone he gets when he’s trying to convince me to do things his way. He lowers his head to suck on my earlobe. I shudder, wanting to just stay here with him in the worst way. Unfortunately, I can’t.

“Yeah. I really gotta go.”

Only time that’s available at the shooting range is first thing this morning. Perkins scheduled this drill three days ago. If I’d known then that Hutch would be home last night, I would have tried for a different time, or told Perkins I couldn’t make it. As it is, I gave the man my word that I’d be there. I was always told a man is only as good as his word. And a man’s word is only good as long as people know he’ll do what he says he will.

Hutch nibbles at my neck, letting his hands roam over me. “C’mon, Babe. Stay.”

I push his hands away. “I can’t.”

He lets go and rolls off, putting his back to me. I can’t see his face, but I know he’s pouting. Reminds me of a little kid when he does that.

Patience. I need patience. One thing about Hutch…he’s never shy about letting me know how he feels. Sometimes, his emotions are as changeable as his eyes. Goes from playful to pissed in two seconds flat. Makes a body dizzy trying to keep up.

“You know I’d rather stay with you. You know that, right?” I would never want him to think otherwise.

“Then why don’t you?” He says that so softly I almost miss it.

“Gave the man my word.” Hutch relaxes, the tension sort of just draining away. He knows I take my promises seriously. Haven’t broken one yet and I don’t plan to start now. “Tell you what…I’ll make it up to you. ”

“Yeah?” He sounds interested, still disappointed, but interested. “How?”

“I’ll take you anywhere you want to go for lunch. You pick the place and I promise not to say anything about it. I’ll even let you order for me.”

Hutch is always trying to get me to try eating new stuff. I liked the Thai stuff we tried. The Greek place we went to was really good. And the food at the French restaurant he talked me into was okay, even if the waiters were snotty. Didn’t care for the Indian place he talked me into. Don’t really ever want to eat there again. So, on the whole, I haven’t been sorry for letting him “broaden my horizons” as he puts it. Just to sweeten the deal, for both of us, I offer something more.

“If Dobey’s in a better mood, I’m pretty sure we can talk him into giving us the afternoon off. Still got time on the books that we need to use.”

Brass issued some kind of decree that detectives could only get so much over time a month. Trying to save money and said we had to claim comp time instead of overtime. Problem was the job wasn’t really a forty-hour a week kind of deal.

So Hutch and I almost always max out our overtime pretty quick and we usually have more comp hours than the brass allows. Gotta use that up or someone upstairs starts bitching.

I nuzzle his neck. “I’ll spend all afternoon makin’ it up to you.”

He rolls over to face me, blue eyes searching mine. “I’m holding you to that.”

Oh yeah, you can count on it. I smile warmly at him. “No problem.”

He kisses my cheek and just that quick, I know I’m forgiven. He’s no longer upset. Amazing. Must be a trick to that I never learned.

“Go play with your gun, Starsk. I’ll meet you at the station for lunch.” He gives me a seductive smile.

“And we’ll have dessert back here.”

I give him a gentle kiss. “Looking forward to it, Blondie.” I head for the door.

“Yeah.” I turn back to face him.

“How’s your shoulder?”

“S’okay. Little stiff, but not bad.” I should have known he’d ask. I rotate it smoothly to prove it to him. Glad I worked out the kinks earlier or I wouldn’t have been able to pull that off.

“Don’t make anymore bets.”

I smile. “Hadn’t planned on it.”

He nods in satisfaction. “Good.”

I turn away again when he calls me back once more.

“Yeah.”

“I love you.”

I smile over my shoulder. “Love you, too.” I let my eyes roam over his naked form, lingering in places, drinking in the sight of him. Man has the body of an angel. He’s all taut, nicely defined at muscle him. under silky smooth skin, all wrapped around a slender frame. Makes my mouth water just looking

“I’ll show you just how much I love you later.” I force myself to leave now before I give in and spend all day just nailing him to the mattress.

* * * *

I use the drive to the shooting range to rein in my thoughts and get my body back in line. Shoulda known getting anywhere near Hutch was a bad idea. It’s just too hard to control myself around him. Don’t have that problem at work because most of the time we both keep our minds on the job. But at home…well, all bets are off. Minute we step away from work, I just want to grab on to him and never let go, but Perkins meets me at the door to the shooting range. He’s shorter than me by a good four inches, what he lacks in height, he makes up for in girth. Not fat, just…square. I’d swear the man’s biceps are as big ’round as my thigh. His hair is gray and has been since he was twenty-five. I’ve known him from the day I joined the force and other than his hair color, you’d never know the man was pushing fifty. He can work most of the rookies under the table and often does just to prove to them that the “old man” still has what it takes to do the job.

He nods to me and then frowns looking me over more closely. He grins and raises a hand to his own neck, gently rubbing where I know the hickey I saw this morning is showing on my neck. “Good night?” He leers suggestively as he asks.

I smile slightly. “Very.” I don’t say anything else because it’s really none of his business. “Kid here yet?”

“Yep. He’s inside.” Perkins waggles his eyebrows at me. “Someone I know?”

“Doubt it.” I’m not going to tell him it was Hutch.

“Ah, c’mon Starsky. Gimme a few details here. Tall or short? Blonde, brunette, or redhead? Eye color? Good looking or just so-so?”

I sigh. I just know he isn’t going to let me go until I say something. “Tall, blond hair, blue eyes, a body to die for, and a killer smile. More than just good looking. Drop dead gorgeous.”

Perkins grins. “Think she’d be interested in meetin’ me?”

I chuckle at that. I don’t bother to correct the assumption that I was with a woman. I just shake my head. “Likes ’em lean.”

Perkins puffs up like a bandy rooster as we walk into the building. “I am lean.”

I give him a sly glance. “Suuuure ya are.”

“I am. Just big boned. Not an ounce a fat on me.”

He’s right about not being fat. I shrug. “Likes ’em tall.”

He snorts. “You’re not that tall. ‘Sides, the best stuff comes in small packages.”

Not sure exactly what to say to that. “Likes ’em brunette.”

“I could dye my hair.”

I laugh. “You been gray for longer than I’ve known you. You don’t even know who you’re tryin’ to meet and you’re ready to dye your hair?”

He chuckles. “Doesn’t matter. Anyone who has you looking this relaxed and happy would definitely be worth meeting. Son, you’re all but whistling.”

I duck my head, immediately embarrassed that he can tell how good having Hutch back makes me feel. I’m suddenly aware that I have an extra spring in my step and I’d been smiling at nothing ever since I’d left the house. He’s right…I am all but whistling.

Perkins slaps me on the back. “It’s good to see you like that.” Sounds almost fatherly when he says it. Given how long he’s known me, I shouldn’t be surprised by that, but I am.

“Nice to know you found someone who makes ya want ta howl like a coyote. If ya know what I mean.”

Hutch does a damn sight more than make me howl, but I’m not tellin’ him that.

Conversation about my love life mercifully comes to a halt when we get to where we’re supposed to put the kid through his paces. His scores are already showing improvement over his initial run. Kid had to be a good shot or Jenkins wouldn’t have even considered him for a position on his team. There is really very little I can show him that time and experience won’t improve.

I suspect that Perkins just wanted me to work with the kid so he could gauge just how good he really was. Wouldn’t be the first time Perkins has used me as a sort of benchmark for one of his guys. I don’t mind. Gotta test ’em somehow.

It takes about three hours to run through all the drills that Perkins had planned. Everything from shooting stable targets, moving targets, pop up drills, to a real life simulation. The simulation was something new. They had video of different hostage situations, with the camera angle from a sniper’s point of view. There was a tricked-out rifle that let you aim and line up your shot and decide when to take it and fed everything back to a computer. Then the computer ran the probabilities giving you what the likely outcome would be based on your actions. Thing was pretty cool.

“Wanna try it?” Perkins asked.

I know I must have looked like a kid just being offered a chance at a new toy, but I don’t care. “Yeah. I’d like to give it a shot.”

“I’ll have them run a new sim for you. Wouldn’t be fair for you to do the same one the kid did. ‘Specially since you’ve already seen it.”

Perkins sets it up. I find myself looking through a scope at a gunman who’d taken the passengers of a bus hostage. I take stock of the situation, sort of absorbing who was doing what and where. I take a breath and let it out slowly. Focusing on the gunman, I ignore everything else. I take my shot when he sticks his head out the window to yell at one of the cops standing outside the bus. My shot is a clean hit right to the head. Had it been a real situation, I would have dropped him instantly without losing a single hostage. Made for a nearly perfect score. They deducted four points because I never gave the negotiator time to talk. I’d taken the gunman out in three minutes, twenty-five seconds. Perkins was impressed. “Damn. Are you sure you don’t want to join SWAT?”

“Positive.” I hand him back the rifle. I glance at my watch. “I gotta go. My partner is supposed to be back into town sometime today. Need to get back to the office.”

“Anytime you change your mind about working with me, just yell.”

“Will do.” I nod to him and the kid and head out. There really isn’t anything at the office that I need to take care of. Well, other than trying to sweet talk Dobey into lettin’ me and Hutch have the afternoon off.

I park the Torino. I notice that Hutch’s car is parked in it’s usual spot. I’m so glad he’s home.

‘Course, seeing Hutch leaning back against the door is a welcoming sight. He looks great, lounging there with his sunglasses firmly in place, hiding his eyes, his arms crossed over his chest. Reminds me of those ads you see trying to sell cars…drape a sexy looking man or woman against the car and it’s supposed to be irresistible. I didn’t give a rats ass about the cars, but Hutch, well, he’s always been irresistible in my opinion.

I hop out of the Torino and walk around to the other side. I know I’m wearing a stupid grin. Oh, well, it isn’t like he doesn’t know how I feel about him. “Hey, Hutch.”

He grins. “Starsky.”

I glance at my watch. It’s only eleven. “Didn’t think you’d be in until noon?”

Hutch shrugs. ‘Thought if I came in early I could let Dobey know what happened with the case and ask him about taking this afternoon off. Thought I had as good a shot as you would at convincing him.”

I raise an eyebrow. “He say yes? This mean I don’t have to go upstairs?”

“He’s still pissed at the brass. He said, and I quote, ‘It was their stupid rule about overtime in the first place. Bastards don’t have the sense God gave a rock. You have too much time on the books, so let’s make the boys upstairs happy. Take the rest of the day if you want.’ I took that to mean that we could leave when you got here.”

“We’re goin’ for lunch now?”

“I know you didn’t eat breakfast, so eating lunch early won’t be a problem for you.” He drops his head a little so he can look at me over his sunglasses. He’s got that look. The one he gets when he wants to jump all over me about the fact that I don’t eat regular meals. I just eat when I get hungry and I usually just grab whatever’s handy. Never really gave it much thought. ‘Course, Hutch doesn’t really care to hear that.

Hoping to deflect a potential lecture, I ask him, “Where we goin’?”

“The Imperial Palace. It’s a Chinese place.”

“Okay.” I like Chinese. We’ve eaten at other Chinese restaurants. I’m relieved he didn’t pick anything too off the wall. Not too big a risk eatin’ Chinese. Least I won’t be totally unprepared.

“Let’s go.” I can’t see his eyes, but if the rest of his expression is anything to go by, he’s looking me over. I can feel my face getting warm. You’d think I’d be old enough to not to blush anymore.

Well, two can play that game. I return his look. “We still havin’ dessert at home?” I let my voice dip a bit, let it get husky. I know what that does to him.

Hutch shifts against the car. He says ‘yes’ like it’s the only word he can get out at that moment. Call it petty, but I love knowing I have that effect on him.

I sashay over to the Torino flaunting my ass at him and slide in. I manage not to smile when I hear Hutch sigh heavily. I know he’s gonna say something. He can’t help himself.

“You can’t just walk around the car like everyone else?”

“Could. More fun this way.”

Hutch gets in and I fire up the car. “How hard can it be to control yourself while we’re at the station?” I shrug. “Didn’t say it was hard to do. Just said it was more fun my way.” He shakes his head “Tease.”

“You complaining’?” I grin. He mutters something. I don’t have a clue what he said.

In almost no time we’re pulling in to the restaurant parking lot. It’s early yet, so the place isn’t busy with the lunch time crowd. Hutch hates crowds. Too many people, making too much noise, standing too close…he says it gets overwhelming in a hurry. Never seems to bother me, but being surrounded by other people makes him nervous, sort of claustrophobic. Always has. He’s learned to control it out of necessity, but if he can avoid crowds then he does. Reminds me of a quote. Not sure who said it but it went something like, “that which can not be avoided must be endured.” Words he’s lived by for more years than I care to think about.

Hutch starts talking to the hostess in Chinese. I can’t even begin to guess what it is they’re saying, but knowing Hutch, I’d be willing to bet he’s asking for a certain table, or wine, or just plain grilling’ the lady about who the chef is, where the guy trained and what ingredients he uses. He does stuff like that whenever he visits a new place and so far nobody’s complained about him doing’ it. The man is real picky about what he eats and how it’s cooked.

I amuse myself by watching the fish in the aquarium, waiting for him to decide if we are really gonna eat here or not. It’s relaxing just to watch the fish hanging out, doing their thing. I’d thought about getting a fish tank once or twice. But, after Hutch killed Jenny’s, I figured it wasn’t worth it. Be a death sentence to the little guys making them come home with Hutch and me.

Hutch taps my shoulder and nods his head toward the seating area. Guess that means the place passed muster. Good thing, cause I’m hungry.

We sit down at a small booth in the back almost completely hidden by an elaborate oriental screen and potted plants. Place is empty, we could have sat anywhere, but Hutch evidently wanted a place more private. He doesn’t usually pick a place quite so hidden. Makes me wonder if he’s got something on his mind. I shrug mentally. Just have to wait and see. If Hutch’s got something to say I’m sure I’ll hear about it when he’s ready.

A waiter hands us menus and fills our glasses with water. I glance at the menu and realize it’s all in Chinese. With a shrug I hand it to Hutch. He raises an eyebrow at me.

“Told you to order for me. From the looks of that, you’re gonna have to.”

He smiles. “Must have thought we both spoke the language. Anything in particular you want?”

“Somethin’ hot. Spicy.” I have no problem with hot stuff. Love it in fact. Hutch can’t understand how I can eat a lot of the stuff I do. I just figured being raised on it had something to do with it. And I’ve had hot Chinese stuff before.

It isn’t the same as Mexican…not bad, just different.

Hutch nods and looks over the menu. When the waiter comes back he places our order. I don’t bother to ask what he got for me. I’ll do that when it shows up. I won’t eat it until I know what I’m putting’ in my mouth. Hutch thinks that telling me before hand will just make me not want to eat it.

Last time I let him order for me was at the Greek place we went to last month, I refused to eat until he told me what it was. I threatened to get up and leave if he didn’t tell me. He knew I was serious, so he relented and told me what it was. Some kind of sheep or goat dish. Don’t really remember which, but it was good enough that I cleaned my plate.

The waiter brings two glasses of wine. “What’s this?”

“Hmm.” I pick it up, and sip it. It’s sweet, almost too sweet. Not really sure if I like it. I don’t really care much for wine. Like beer better, but Hutch likes wine and since he ordered, wine it is.

“It will taste great with your hot dish. Trust me.”

I smile. “I always trust you. So what did you order for me?”

“Chicken. Told them to spice it as much as they wanted so it should be hot enough for you.” I’ve had sweet and sour chicken before. I like it. So I’m sure this will be just as good. “What did you order for yourself?”

“Moo Goo Gai Pan.”

I chuckle, wondering, if it will taste as funny as it sounds. When the meal comes, I surprise the hell out of Hutch by not only asking for chopsticks, but also being able to eat with them.

“You never told me you could eat with chopsticks.” His tone is slightly accusatory.

“You never asked.”

He gives me that look. The one that lets me know he isn’t happy with what he calls my non-answers. He didn’t believe me when I told him that I don’t do it on purpose. Not really. Sometimes, yes, I do it to tease him, but most of the time, I honestly don’t think about it. I’m just not in the habit of talking about myself any more than he is.

“So when did you learn to eat with chopsticks?”

“Freshman year in college. One of the guys on the team was a real fan of Chinese. He insisted that we all had to learn how to eat it right.” I laugh. “Got more food on the floor than we did in our mouths. Sort of ending up as a challenge. Prove you could do it. Eventually, we all learned how to eat with ’em.”

“The whole team?”

“Yep. Ate Chinese every Friday night for almost two semesters.”

He laughs. “Took you that long?”

“Me…no. For the whole team, yeah.” I shake my head remembering. “Our center lineman, Ralph Perry, couldn’t seem to figure it out. Thought he’d starve to death before he got the hang of it.”

“Starve? It was only one night a week.”

“Yeah, well, Perry tipped the scales at over 280. I swear that boy ate more in one meal than I did all week. And the deal was that all we got was Chinese and chopsticks. Couldn’t have anythin’ else.”

Hutch chuckles. “So it was do or die?”

“Exactly. Don’t think Perry ate Chinese ever again after he managed to figure out chopsticks.”

“So…do you like what I ordered?”

“Next to Sweet and Sour Chicken, it’s my favorite. Like Mongolian beef, too.”

Hutch shoots me a dirty look. “I should have asked you what you’ve had before. You are supposed to try something new.”

“I am trying something new. Never had plum wine before. An’ you were right about it being good with a hot dish.”

Hutch snorts. “Not the same thing.”

I shrug one shoulder. “Don’t see how it’s all that different.”

Hutch mutters something again. I can’t help but laugh. “You know, all that mumbling might be more effective if you said it loud enough for me to hear it.”

When Hutch and I were first partnered it seemed that anything could get a rise out of him. He had a lot of anger and resentment to work through. Sometimes just the slightest thing could set him off. I admit that sometimes I said things that I knew would make him angry. I could sense the anger and hostility and figured that if he didn’t get it out of his system that it would end up eating him from the inside out. He’s not so easy to anger now. I guess he’s resolved a lot of the conflicts that he had. A lot of that old pain has subsided now. But, it’s still fun to tease him. Guess old habits don’t really die, they just mutate into other things.

The conversation wanders around a little like it always does. I swear there is nothing we can’t talk about. I loved Terry dearly, but she and I were never on the same wave length the way Hutch and I are. We walk in step without thinking about it. Sometimes I finish his sentence for him, or he’ll know what I’m going to say before I even open my mouth. And lately, we seem to be speaking simultaneously, like we did when we met with the Chief. Should freak me out, but it doesn’t. I kind of like feeling so connected.

I realize I’m playing with the pendant he gave me and I smile. I look up and Hutch is smiling at me. Since we’re about done eating, I guess it’s time to tell him what’s been on my mind.

“Want to tell me what it is you’re worrying about?”

“What makes you think I’m worried?”

He reaches over and covers the hand playing with the pendant. “This.”

I hang my head and whisper softly, “Damn. Gotta stop doing that.”

“S’okay. You only do it when you got something heavy weighing on your mind. It isn’t like you do it all the time. So, are you gonna talk to me?” He sips his wine, trying to be casual.

I think he thinks if he stays calm, odds are so will I. He doesn’t want to make whatever is bothering me worse.

“Did something happen between when you left this morning and now?”

“Not exactly.” I reach into my pocket and pull out a small box. “You remember me asking you for Eric’s phone number?”

“Yeah.”

Eric is the silversmith who made my pendant that Hutch had designed. Hutch worked out the design and Eric made it. Turned out to be a real work of art. I had asked Hutch just before he left for San Francisco for Eric’s phone number to have something made. He thought it was for one of my relatives.

He nods toward the box I sat on the table. “That what you had him make?”

“Came in the mail yesterday. You know how much I like my pendant, right?”

“I know. You wear it all the time. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t thrilled that you did. Means a lot to me that you wear a tangible proof of how I feel about you.”

“Well, the thing is…l wanted…to give you something that you could wear that would be for you like my pendant is for me. I talked to Eric about what he thought you might like. We discussed several different designs but I finally decided that it would mean the most to both of us if the pieces matched. It seemed like a good idea at the time, but I’m not sure. I mean you don’t usually where any jewelry, well, other than your watch. I don’t want you to feel obligated to wear it if you don’t like it and—”

Hutch raises his fingers to my lips to halt all the nervous babble. “Does it look as good as you thought it would?” He pulls his hand away letting me answer.

“Better.”

“Do you like it?”

“Can I see it?”

I carefully open the box and offer it to Hutch. Nestled in black velvet is a silver cuff bracelet. He picks it up and turns it over so he can see all the details. The widest point is in the center, roughly an inch, before tapering down at either end to barely a quarter of an inch. There is a slightly raised oval that fills the center. Inscribed in the oval, are the same interlocking, scripted initials that are a perfect match of the ones on my pendant. The diamond cutting makes the initials flash and sparkle every time he moves the bracelet.

Bracketing the oval are two rearing horses, outlined in gold relief. They are so well done, you almost expect to feel the wind that lifts their manes and stretches out their tails so that they curve toward the narrowed edges of the bracelet. He lets his fingers run over the smooth finish.

Hutch looks up to meet eyes. He has been quiet so long that I’m starting to worry; he seems to realize that I need reassurance and he knows just how to give it to me. Even though we’re in a public place, he throws caution to the wind and he leans over and kisses me.

“You like it?” I ask smiling at him

He leans into whisper in my ear. “I love it. Thank you.”

I can feel his eyes roaming over me. I know my face is flushed. God, he’s so beautiful, I think as I look deeply into his eyes.

“What do you say we go home and I show you just how much I like it?”

“Sounds like a great idea, Blondie.”

We end up going to my apartment since it’s closer than the beach. I smile thinking how we barely made it in the door before disrobing each other. There are clothes scattered from the front door, across the living room and into the bedroom. Making love is a great way to spend the afternoon.

I stretch careful not to disturb Hutch. I’m not really ready to wake up yet, but I need to shift positions a little. Usually I’m the one wrapped around him, but at the moment he’s snuggled in tight against me, his head resting on my shoulder. I can see his bracelet glowing faintly in the late afternoon sunlight. The silver looks incredible next to his pale gold skin. It warms me all over to know he likes it. I was so worried that I’d made a mistake in having it made for him. After I saw it, I couldn’t wait to give it to him. Partly because I was worried he wouldn’t like it and I wanted to just get the whole thing over with and partly because I was almost sure he would like it and I wanted to see him wearing it. Must have been how he felt when he gave me the pendant.

I wanted him to have something tangible, some visible, lasting proof of my love for him. It’s not the same thing as a wedding band but it was as close as we will probably be able to get. Mutually exchanging tokens of love is really all the whole ring thing is about. Well, that and making promises to each other.

We’ve already made the verbal commitment, several times. Besides, a ring isn’t something we can have, yet.

I can feel Hutch beginning to stir. He snuggles in closer to me with a quiet sigh. I place a tender kiss on his temple.

“I love you,” I whisper.

“Love you, too.”

His voice is rough from sleep and soft enough to let me know he might just go back to sleep if I don’t move. Not moving, just lying here, enjoying being wrapped up in my lover seems like an excellent idea. It’s not like we have to be anywhere or do anything. I pull him in closer to me and settle down to go back to sleep.

 

Chapter 9

Starsky flopped down on the grass in the shade, next to where Hutch was lying on his back. He couldn’t believe what a work out playing touch football had been. He was glad the game was over. In another hour it was going to be hot enough to fry eggs on the sidewalk and he wanted to be out of the sun when that happened.

The game had been the result of a challenge from Vice to the Zebra Three Units. Working together on a drug case had spawned a small rivalry that some bright light had suggested settling on the playing field. It was supposed to be a friendly game. Starsky snorted and gently rubbed the bruise he knew was forming above his knee. Friendly, my ass.

Hutch glanced over at him. “Something wrong?”

“No.” Starsky sighed. “Just thinking this game wasn’t as friendly as I thought it was going to be.”

Hutch shook his head. “I knew it wasn’t gonna be all that nice when they didn’t want me to be quarterback.”

Starsky nodded at that. His partner would have been the natural choice for quarterback having excelled in that position in both high school and college. But when the Vice squad insisted he had to play another position to keep it fair, Hutch had just shrugged. As long as he got to play, he didn’t seem to really care what position. Little did the guys from Vice realize that Hutch was a damn good wide receiver. If they had, they might have insisted he not play at all. Starsky grinned broadly, reveling in the fact that they hadn’t just won the game, they had kicked ass. The final score was 28 to 7.

Hutch wore a grin that matched Starsky’s. “You did a damn fine job as quarterback.”

Starsky snorted. “Oh, sure. You called all the plays. I just did what you told me.”

Hutch shrugged one shoulder. “Calling the play is easy. It’s the execution that makes it work.”

Starsky chuckled and threw a mock salute at his lover. “Yes, sir.”

In truth, Starsky had enjoyed the game. Although, it had been incredibly difficult to ignore a charging assault knowing it was his job to throw the ball, when what he really wanted to do was face his approaching ‘enemy’ and take him out of the game. He now understood why Hutch had described it as ‘hitting your target while under fire.’ And hitting his target wasn’t the same as firing a gun. For one thing, it took a lot more effort. He could feel the affect of numerous throws on his shoulder. Probably a good thing Hutch wasn’t quarterback. If my shoulder hurts, his would be in agony by now.

“You should run with me sometime.”

“Huh? What for?”

“You looked good out there today, too. Never knew you were so fast.” Whenever he looked for Starsky, he was always where he was supposed to be. And he’d out run numerous efforts to stop him with apparent ease.

Starsky chuckled. “You do distance, Hutch. I sprint. Don’t think I could keep up with you.”

“You kept up all morning.” They had started the game at ten o’clock and had played until lunch. Starsky never looked winded during the game, a mystery to Hutch given the extent of his injuries from the shooting a couple of years ago.

“That’s just ’cause we took a few time outs. And they took a few, too.” Starsky laughed, dismissing Hutch’s assessment. He sat up with a faint moan, one hand rubbing at the small of his back. “I’m too damn old for this.”

Hutch snorted. “Not too old. Bastards tackled you seven times.”

“Counted ’em, did ya?” Starsky raised an eyebrow.

“It was supposed to be touch football.” Hutch frowned, not at all pleased with the amount of punishment is partner had received. The game had gotten rougher as it went on. Hutch had taken a few hits during the game, but that hadn’t bothered him as much as seeing Starsky getting repeatedly taken down. Of their teammates, only Dobey and Minnie had escaped body-bruising contact.

“Full out tackles are supposed to be against the rules.”

Starsky smirked. “Yeah, well, I think they learned their lesson. Doubt they’ll want to play again any time soon.”

One of the overzealous tacklers had gotten up with a bloody nose from ‘accidental’ contact with Starsky’s elbow late in the game and another left sporting a beautiful black eye. Starsky had felt obligated to take out the biggest offender, Carmichael, with a shoulder to the solar plexus. He had lain on the ground for a good five minutes trying to get his breath back. Starsky had found the sight of the large man lying on the ground gaping like a fish out of water to be very, very satisfying.

Hutch got to his feet an offered a hand to Starsky.

“C’mon, old man. Let’s get out of here.” The rest of their team had left ten minutes ago after packing up what was left over from the picnic lunch they’d had after the game.

Starsky took Hutch’s hand letting him pull him smoothly to his feet. Together they headed for where Starsky had parked the Torino. As they walked, he noticed Hutch’s shoulders were a little pink, despite having applied sun block that morning.

Starsky let his eyes roam over his lover. Instead of his usual button down, long sleeve shirt, slacks and loafers, Hutch was wearing shorts, a sweatshirt with the sleeves cutoffs and sneakers. The outfit revealed Hutch’s well-toned, body. His lean, wiry form made for nice muscle definition.

Starsky couldn’t help thinking that Hutch’s state of dress, or near undress, as it seemed to him, verged on indecent. It wasn’t. There was nothing improper or socially unacceptable about what Hutch was wearing. It just felt as though the whole world was getting to see what had, up until now, been reserved for Starsky’s eyes only. It had taken all his will power to let Hutch leave the house without commenting. He was not going to act like a jealous, possessive lover and tell him to change clothes, no matter how much he wanted to. Damn good thing no one really paid too much attention to Hutch or I’d have decked someone. He’s mine. God…he looks good enough to eat.

Starsky took a deep breath and caught the faint scent of his lover on the wind. He must have reacted to that in some fashion causing Hutch to glance over at him.

Starsky swallowed hard, and refocused his mind. Not going to tell him what I’m really thinking. “You’re a little burned, Blondie.”

Hutch looked at one shoulder and shrugged. “Not bad.” His eyes wandered over Starsky, assessing him. He cocked his head to one side and lips quirking up in a small smile.

Starsky was also dressed down for the game. He had forgone his usual leather jacket, long sleeve shirt and jeans in favor of cutoffs and an old crew neck shirt. It was his usual work out gear. Hutch let his fingertips ghost down one arm from shoulder to elbow, causing Starsky to shiver slightly, enjoying the feel of that gentle caress.

“You tan real nice, Starsky.” Hutch’s voice was a little husky and Starsky shivered again. “Hmmm. Feel nice, too.” Hutch caressed his arm again, before moving away slightly. “Want to go home and take a shower?” Hutch grinned slyly over one shoulder, his eyes sparkling. It was a look of invitation that Starsky easily recognized.

Starsky shook himself slightly. That voice, inviting look and the tantalizing view before him made it hard to concentrate. Finally realizing what it was Hutch had said, Starsky grinned.

“Definitely. A shower is a great idea.”

Hutch laughed lightly, amused by Starsky’s momentary lapse. Starsky swatted his partner on the ass. “That will be enough out of you.”

Hutch smiled but didn’t say anything more. He opened the door to the Torino and casually hopped in the passenger seat. Starsky slid into the driver’s seat with a quiet sigh. He watched as Hutch unlocked the console between the seats, pulling out his watch, and his bracelet and Starsky’s pendant.

Not knowing just how physical the game was going to be, Starsky had heeded Hutch’s suggestion to take it off earlier, not wanting it to be damaged or lost. And considering just how rough the game had gotten, he was glad he had.

Hutch dug a little deeper into the console and withdrew Starsky’s gun. He passed it over once Starsky had finished hooking the chain around his neck. Starsky had grown up in a household where men routinely packed a gun or two at all times. Concealed weapons were the norm in his Uncle Al’s house. His uncle never went anywhere without one and his many bodyguards were always equally well equipped.

Starsky had been given his first gun on his sixteenth birthday, along with a stern lecture about when and how it should be used. Uncle Al’s bodyguard, Jacob, had spent several weeks at the shooting range showing him how to use it. He had more or less carried a weapon ever since. Although, he’d only really felt the need to constantly have one since the seminar in Sacramento. Prior to that incident, he would occasionally leave it at home. But now he felt naked and vulnerable without some form of protection. He never wanted to be caught off guard like that again.

Because he wasn’t in his usual street clothes, he couldn’t wear his shoulder rig, or even an ankle holster. Blatant displays of weapons tended to make the public nervous. But he did have a belt holster that positioned the gun at the small of his back. He just un-tucked his tank top and let it out to conceal the weapon. Watching Hutch’s long fingered, graceful hands, as he put on his bracelet and fastened his watch, made Starsky smile thinking about how those hands would touch him once they got home. Might not even make it to the shower. Starsky grinned. Wouldn’t be the first time they’d ended up on the floor. Hell, the first time was ‘on’ the floor.

Glancing out the window, Hutch frowned. “Thought we were going home.” They weren’t headed for the beach or the apartment.

“Gotta pick up the wine you ordered first. Remember?”

“Oh. Right.” Hutch had ordered several bottles of wine from a small specialty shop that carried wines from thirty different countries and almost as many states.

The owner, Mr. Steinberg, had called yesterday to let him know that his order had arrived. Knowing the game would be over by two in the afternoon, Hutch had told him that they would be by to pick up his order today.

Starsky pulled up in front of Steinberg’s. It was an out of the way, hole in the wall sort of place that unless you knew what to look for you’d never be able to find. Starsky shook his head slightly remembering the first time they’d stopped here.

A couple of years after they became partners, Hutch had complained about the selection of wine available at the store near his apartment. Starsky had offered to take him to a place that carried the widest selection in Bay City. He’d taken him to Steinberg’s.

Looking at the place, he was skeptical at first.

“Here? Starsky, you’ve got to be kidding. You don’t even drink wine. I should have known better than to ask you.” Hutch had been disgusted with his partner for dragging him to what looked like a dump and that disgust was readily apparent in his voice.

Starsky had scowled at Hutch.

“Look, Hutch I may not know anything about drinking wine, but I sure as hell know where to go in Bay City to get it. You’re the one always telling me to keep an open mind. So open your mind, Blondie and let’s go see if he’s got something that will suit you.”

Hutch had gone in simply to humor his partner, fully expecting to be disappointed, but ended up being so impressed with the selection and quality that he hadn’t been anywhere else in years. He made regular visits to restock his wine rack. He and Mr. Steinberg routinely discussed the merits of various wines. Hutch had only recently begun to special order wines that he wanted to try or had come to really appreciate.

Together, he and Starsky headed inside the store. Hutch shivered slightly, stepping into the air conditioning. He breathed in and felt his whole body relax a little. It felt good to be out of the heat. After all the years he had lived in Bay City, he still wasn’t totally used to it.

Starsky smiled when he immediately spotted Mr. Steinberg behind the counter. He was waiting on a customer, but nodded to both Starsky and Hutch. “Be right with you, gentlemen.”

“Take your time, sir.” Despite being a regular customer and sharing a love of good wine, Hutch always felt compelled to address the older gentleman as sir. Anything else just seemed disrespectful somehow. “We’ll just browse.”

Starsky and Hutch split up and began wandering up and down the aisles looking at what was available. Hutch headed for a row reserved for white wines from New Zealand. Starsky headed for the beer aisle. In addition to carrying the largest selection of wines in town, Mr. Steinberg had an impressive array of liquor and imported beer.

Starsky had become partial to a dark beer imported from Germany. He didn’t drink it very often, but he liked having it on hand.

Starsky had just picked up a bottle of his favorite brand when he heard the bell above the door jingle. He looked over in time to see two men walk in. They were wearing ski masks, carrying what looked like a shotgun and two handguns. Shit. Who in their right mind robs a liquor store in the afternoon?

He carefully replaced the bottle, while ducking down, and moved silently to the end of the aisle. From there, they couldn’t see him. The thing that worried him was he couldn’t see his partner either. Hutch…where the hell are you? C’mon, Babe. Move so I can see you.

He heard the two men yelling at Mr. Steinberg. “Don’t move, old man. Ya’ hear me? Don’t move!! You…on the floor.” Starsky guessed they were talking to the customer that had been at the counter when he and Hutch had entered. Starsky pulled his gun. He really didn’t want to get into a gun battle. Not when civilians could be hurt and sure as hell not when he only had one gun; Hutch hadn’t brought his gun, and no back up. He didn’t know where his partner was and there was no way he could call for reinforcements.

Starsky breathed easier when Hutch appeared at the end of an aisle four rows to the left of his position. Hutch held up one finger and then pointed toward the door. He then held up another and jerked his thumb over his shoulder. Starsky nodded. Okay…one near the door. One at the counter. That matched with what he’d seen and heard.

“Give me the money, old man!!”

Starsky knew Steinberg well enough to know the man would not simply give in easily. The man had immigrated to the United States from Germany after losing most of his family in a concentration camp when he was a young man. He had refused to let what had happened to him crush his spirit. Mr. Steinberg had been determined to make a new life for himself. And he had. He had gotten married, raised three children and operated his own business. He had opened the store in 1947 and had kept it going ever since, despite economic upheavals, natural disasters and his wife’s death, due to cancer just, two years ago. He was a stubborn man, not the sort who would back down. Right on cue, Starsky heard Mr. Steinberg refuse.

“No. I’m not giving you anything.” Mr. Steinberg’s voice was overly calm. Starsky could tell the man was scared, but he was controlling it. “Get out of my store.”

“Don’t make me hurt you. Just give me the money.”

“I said no. I meant it.”

“Just shoot him, Joe.” Starsky heard that coming from the one near the door. Joe must be the one near the counter. The one with the shot gun. Starsky flinched when he heard the lever action on the shotgun, a loud report and sounds of shattering glass when it was fired. He was relieved to hear Mr. Steinberg curse in German and the customer whimper in fear. It meant both were alive.

“Next time, old man, I’m gonna shoot you. Give me the money or you’re dead.”

Starsky raised an eyebrow at his partner. They were going to have to do something quickly or this robbery was likely to become a murder. He didn’t really hold out much hope that the two men wouldn’t make good on their threat. Hutch held up one hand indicating that he wanted five minutes and then made a cover me motion. Starsky wasn’t sure what his partner had in mind but he nodded, ready to back his play. Hutch slid around the far side of the aisle and began moving forward. Starsky slipped into his aisle and began stealthily moving toward the front of the store. He caught a glimpse of Hutch in the mirror that hung from the ceiling. His partner had picked up a bottle and hefted its weight, seeming to consider it for a moment. He then stood up, still mostly hidden by the shelves and gave a loud, piercing whistle. It drew the attention of both gunmen to him and away from Mr. Steinberg and the customer who was cowering on the floor in front of the counter.

“You guys need to put those guns down now.” Hutch’s voice carried easily across the tense silence of the room. “We don’t want anyone to get hurt.”

“Who the hell are you?”

“I’m a cop. And you’re under arrest.”

“A cop! Jesus, Joe. You said this would be easy. Nobody was supposed to be here, but the old man. You—I—”

“Shut up, Frank! Jus’ shut the hell up.” Joe turned his head to yell at Frank, and that was when Hutch let fly with the bottle he’d picked up. Starsky absently noticed that it was a beautiful throw and right on target. Hutch aimed for Frank, the gunman near the door. The bottle hit him hard in the center of the chest, causing him to stumble back and pull both guns in toward himself and away from other potential human targets.

Starsky, seeing his opening, popped up and fired, aiming to disable rather than kill. He picked the more dangerous of the two targets, the man with the shotgun.

At close range, the shotgun had the potential to inflict massive, probably fatal damage, even if the man using it was a lousy shot. While the handguns Frank held, could be just as deadly, unless his aim was good, it was unlikely that he would actually kill someone in the room. Starsky’s shot hit Joe in the shoulder, forcing him to drop the shotgun, knocking him back against the counter. He slid to the floor, scaring the man still cowering there even more. Mr. Steinberg had the good sense to duck behind the counter. He hadn’t lived as long as he had by being stupid.

Starsky switched his aim toward Frank. “Police. Drop the guns! Now!”

Seeing Frank raise his guns, Starsky sighed. Should have known the idiot wouldn’t do this the easy way. Starsky ducked down behind the shelves when Frank began firing randomly in his direction. He knew Hutch was also crouching down waiting for an opportunity to take Frank out. The sound of gunfire, shattering of bottles and the smell of spilled liquor dominated the room. In the midst of this chaos, the unknown customer panicked, and stood up almost directly in the line of fire. Frank changed his aim to focus on the man’s movement. Starsky immediately noticed. Shit.

He launched himself at the man, tackling him. Starsky felt the burn of a bullet in his right arm, and another left a trail of fire across his ribs. He grimaced thinking Frank’s aim might not be lethal but he was definitely able to hit a moving target.

Fighting to stay focused, Starsky caught a glimpse of Hutch nailing Frank with another bottle. This time he hit him in the head, dropping him like a rock. He felt a moment of satisfaction seeing the man hit the floor.

Hutch came forward to quickly snag the shotgun from where Joe dropped it, before kicking the hand guns well out of Frank’s reach should he come to any time soon. With the threat more or less neutralized, Hutch turned toward the older man slowly standing up behind the counter. “Mr. Steinberg…would you please call the police and let them know what happened? Tell them we have an officer down and need them to send an ambulance and a black and white for prisoners.”

“Certainly, Mr. Hutchinson.” Starsky heard Mr. Steinberg hesitate for a moment. “Is…is Mr. Starsky all right?”

“I’ll let you know in a minute.” Hutch was next to Starsky a second later. Starsky hissed in pain when he put pressure on his arm. “Easy, Starsky. I gotcha.”

“You okay?” Starsky got out between clenched teeth. Keep forgetting that getting shot hurts like hell. How a person could forget something like that is beyond me. ‘

“Yeah. I’m fine.” Hutch held him still when Starsky would have tried to instinctively move away from the added pressure on the wound across his ribs.

“How…bad?”

“Just be still. We’ll get this taken care of when the paramedics get here.”

Starsky grimaced. He hated riding in ambulances. Truth was he just plain hated hospitals. And he wasn’t at all thrilled that Hutch hadn’t given him a straight answer.

“How bad?”

“You’re stubborn, you know that?” Hutch sighed, his expression an odd mixture of concern, affection and annoyance. “It just grazed your ribs. Your arm got hit a little harder. Looks like it went through your tricep. Not bad. Hurts like hell though, I’m sure.”

“Got that right.” Starsky could hear the sirens getting closer. He closed his eyes and let himself relax.

Hutch would take care of him.

“Starsky? You still with me here, partner?”

The hint of fear in Hutch’s voice made Starsky open his eyes again. He knew from past experience how unnerving it was to have your wounded partner pass out on you. And he was all too familiar with the fear it generated.

“Yeah, I’m here.”

“Good.”

“What about me?” Joe whimpered from where he’d fallen, still lying against the counter, clutching his bleeding shoulder. “He shot me. Ain’t ya gonna do nothin’ for me?”

Hutch smiled, but there was nothing pleasant about his expression. “You aren’t going bled to death before the paramedics get here. And you’d do well to be quiet or I’ll put you out of your misery permanently.”

There was no mistaking the threat. Joe shrank back wanting more distance between himself and the blond cop with hard eyes. He glanced over to where Frank was lying unconscious. Starsky could tell he thought his partner in crime was dead. He didn’t see the need to tell him differently. Be less likely to cause trouble if he thinks he’s on his own.

“Mr. Hutchinson?” Mr. Steinberg called from his position near the phone. “Mr. Starsky is all right?”

“He’ll be fine, Sir.”

“That is…good. Very good.” Mr. Steinberg moved out from behind the counter. His expression clearly showed the fear he had felt and his concern for Starsky. He handed a towel to Hutch to use to stop the bleeding.

“Thank you. You were very brave.”

“Just doing our jobs.” Hutch dismissed the compliment and focused on Starsky. He pressed the towel over Starsky’s arm. Starsky forced himself to hold still knowing it would do more to stop the bleeding than Hutch’s hand, even if it did hurt like hell to have him putting pressure on it.

Mr. Steinberg shook his head sadly. “Not everyone would have done their job. It would have been easier, safer, to remain hidden and allow them to kill me. I know this. It has happened before.” Mr. Steinberg patted Hutch on the shoulder and then Starsky. “You are both very brave, honorable men. I am grateful you chose to come to my aid.”

Hutch smiled tightly. “You’re welcome. Can’t have my only supplier of Sicilian wines hurt, now can l?”

Mr. Steinberg smiled warmly. “Of course not.”

A minute later the whole place was swarming with uniformed cops and paramedics. Starsky ignored them. He didn’t really register the blue uniform or the man kneeling down to look him over, until the man asked Hutch to move away.

“Sir, I need you to move so I can look at his injuries.”

Hutch nodded and shifted, preparing to move away. Starsky reached out and grabbed Hutch’s wrist, just above his bracelet, keeping him close.

“Don’t go too far.”

Hutch smiled gently. “Hadn’t planned to.” He reached out and let the back of his knuckles caress Starsky’s cheekbone. “Just need to get out of the way so the man can do his job. I’ll be right here.”

Starsky nodded and forced his fingers to let go. He kept his eyes on Hutch while the EMT looked him over and treated his wounds. Hutch never moved more than an arm’s length away.

Starsky shivered slightly. He knew he was cold because he had bled all over the floor and shock was probably setting in. Not to mention the air conditioning was still cranked on high. The EMT offered him a blanket, which he gratefully accepted, snuggling into it and closing his eyes. Hutch reached over to touch Starsky periodically, so that even with his eyes closed, Starsky knew he was there.

Starsky listened while Hutch talked to the patrolmen, relaying what had happened. Starsky added his own commentary to the story, filling in details that he’d thought important or that Hutch had simply left out. Hutch turned over the shotgun and Starsky’s gun as well.

Any shooting involving a cop required a full review by Internal Affairs. IA would want his gun to confirm that he’d only fired once and to match the ballistics from the bullet in Joe’s shoulder. They’d also dig out the bullets Frank and Joe had fired from where they were imbedded in the walls. There would be a complete review of the witnesses’ testimony, to determine if there were any major deviations. The evidence would help to establish that their version of the events had, in fact, been what really had occurred. IA was paid to be suspicious and they were usually good at it.

Starsky protested when the medics prepared to lift him on to a stretcher. “I don’t need that. I can walk.”

“Starsky—”

Starsky glared at his partner. “I can walk.”

“Uh-hunh. Prove it.” Hutch’s level stare challenged him to make good on his claim.

With a small groan, Starsky managed to lever himself up until he was sitting. He closed his eyes and swallowed hard when a wave of dizziness, nausea and pain made him want to lie back down again. He would have, but Hutch had slid in behind him and held him steady until the floor stabilized and he didn’t feel quite so much like he was going to throw up. Starsky relaxed against the solid warmth of his lover and conceded.

“Okay, okay. I’ll ride the damn stretcher.”

Starsky was grateful that his partner didn’t feel compelled to say ‘I told you so.’ He simply helped to make Starsky comfortable for the trip to the hospital. Starsky mentally snorted. Comfortable, my ass. I hate riding in an ambulance. I’d rather sit through a root canal without anesthetic. And I really, really hate hospitals.

Starsky wasn’t aware he’d spoken out loud until he heard Hutch say, “I know. I don’t care for them either. You probably won’t have to stay. Just have to let them finish patching you up and then I’ll take you home.”

“You going to ride with me?” He asked as the wheeled the stretcher out to the ambulance. Starsky didn’t really think the medics would let him, but he figured it couldn’t hurt to ask. Hutch tipped his head in a silent question to one of the EMT’s. The man looked sympathetic and nodded, “Sure, let’s go.”

Hutch nodded. He locked eyes with Starsky. “Johnson,” Hutch called when he saw the Sergeant standing near the doorway. “Would you bring Starsky’s car to the hospital?” At Johnson’s nod, Hutch reached into Starsky’s pocket, pulled out the keys and tossed them to him.

* * * *

Captain Dobey had just gotten out of the shower when his phone rang. He knew it wasn’t going to be someone wanting to sell him magazines. For some reason the phone always sounded different when it was a work related call. It could just be his imagination that made it seem as though the ring was somehow more strident, but he was seldom wrong.

Sure enough, it was a dispatcher telling him two of his detectives were involved in a liquor store robbery. He hadn’t even needed to ask which ones. Starsky and Hutch. No one else would have gotten involved in stopping a crime on their day off.

Starsky and Hutch, his very own problem children. They were friends, good friends. But some days it was hard to tell, they fought like cats and dogs half the time, arguing long and loud about whatever had set them off. They often saw a situation or a case so differently, it was like they weren’t even speaking the same language. Other times they were so in sync, they didn’t need to speak to communicate. It was strange to watch and frustrating to be on the outside looking in, trying to figure out just what was going on. If they weren’t so damn good at their jobs, Dobey would have shot them years ago.

The two of them got involved in more shit than anyone else in the department. They would never back down from a challenge and seemed to feel obligated to solve every case that came across their desks. As a result, they had the best case closure rate in the department and possibly the whole state. That made him look good, something that Dobey honestly appreciated. Being one of the few black men in a command position, in a field still dominated by whites, he had to constantly prove to his superiors and his white counterparts that he could do the job. It wasn’t enough for him to be as good as the other divisions; he had to be better. And having his detectives excel certainly helped him do just that. His department set the standard other departments tried to meet.

The dispatcher told him the call had come through with an officer down tag. The system was set up to flag those calls immediately and relay information to the cop’s home office so that coworkers and family would be notified as quickly as possible. As their captain, it was Dobey who got the call.

He asked the dispatcher which one was hurt, but the dispatcher didn’t know. All she could say was that one of Dobey’s detectives had been transported to Memorial Hospital and that he was in stable condition. Dobey let it go. He’d get the details from either Starsky or Hutch once he got to the hospital.

He threw on some clothes and headed out. It didn’t take him long to get there. I have to wonder about my life when I know the fastest way to every hospital in the city from both my home and the office. From anywhere in the city really. As he pulled into the parking lot, he noticed that Starsky’s Torino was already there.

Once through the doors, Dobey spotted Hutch pacing slowly back and forth in the waiting room. He hesitated for a moment, trying to gauge the situation by studying his behavior. Pacing wasn’t something he normally did. Hutch was more the type to sit and wait, if not patiently, at least quietly. Pacing was more Starsky’s style. That man could wear holes in the floor.

Dobey watched silently. Hutch looked a little shaky, but didn’t seem to be panicked or frustrated. It was more like he was trying to think something through. Man always said he thought better on his feet. I’d bet money, he’s going over whatever just happened. Well, good. Then he can fill me in.

He stepped forward. “Hutch?”

He stopped in mid-stride and looked up. “Cap.”

“You okay?” he asked, concerned when he noticed the blood on his hands and clothing. He wasn’t sure if it was Hutch’s or someone else’s.

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

“And Starsky?”

“Starsky’s in with the docs. Should be okay.” Hutch raised a hand to rub his face, and grimaced when he saw the blood that still covered his hands. Dobey noticed a faint tremor in his hands before he balled them into fists.

“Why don’t you go get cleaned up?” Seeing he was going to protest, Dobey held up a hand. “I’ll be here if they’ve got any news. And you can tell me what happened when you get back.” Hutch nodded and headed for the rest room.

A nurse appeared a moment later. She glanced around the waiting room and seeing only Dobey looked puzzled. “Excuse me…l was looking for Sergeant Hutchinson. His partner said he’d be here.”

“He just went to get cleaned up a little. I’m their Supervisor, Captain Dobey. Is there something I can help with?”

“Mr. Starsky wanted his partner to hold on to his personal items.” The nurse held a small bag in her hands. Standard hospital policy was to remove items that could get in the way of treating an injury. Usually they were left at the desk, but Dobey could understand Starsky’s wanting Hutch to have his things.

“I’ll hold them until Hutch gets back. If that’s all right?”

The nurse offered the bag to Dobey, and left with a quick thank you. In the bag was Starsky’s wallet, his pendant, watch and his holster. Have to ask Hutch where the gun is.

Dobey sat down and waited. He motioned for Hutch to sit down next to him when he returned. Probably would be the best thing for him if he sat down for a while. He handed the bag to him. He watched as Hutch reached in and withdrew the necklace. He looped the chain around his fingers, and gently held the oval in one hand.

Dobey knew Starsky wore it all the time. He couldn’t honestly remember when he’d gotten it, but he hadn’t seen him without it for some time now. It was something he would play with when troubled or deep in thought. Dobey clearly remembered sitting in this same room, with Starsky, waiting for word about Hutch after he’d been attacked in the alley behind Huggy’s. Starsky had been playing with the pendant then.

This was the first time he’d really looked at it up close. The interlocking, scripted S, H, with the diamond cutting glittered in the florescent lighting. The gold lighthouse relief seemed to flicker in the reflected light. It was a truly beautiful piece of jewelry.

Hutch stared down at the pendant thoughtfully, rubbing his thumb across it over and over. Dobey decided that now would be a good time to get him to talk. “Tell me what happened.”

Hutch began relaying what happened, all the while gently rubbing his thumb across the pendant. Dobey didn’t interrupt, letting him tell it at his own pace. He knew he wasn’t going to get the whole story. I never do with Hutch.

He was, without a doubt, one of the most observant people he’d ever had the opportunity to work with, but he wasn’t the most forthcoming. He’d talk to Starsky as soon as he got the chance. He’d fill in whatever Hutch left out. Funny. He will do that even if he hasn’t heard what Hutch had to say. Almost as if he already knows what Hutch is going to say, or as if Hutch knows what Starsky will say, and neither one felt the need to duplicate the other.

If their reports were written together, they were the most complete documentation he’d ever get. But when written separately, it was like reading about two different events.

“What happened to Starsky’s gun?” Dobey asked, nodding toward the empty holster in the bag when Hutch finished.

“Gave it to the officers at the scene. I thought IA would want a look at it. It was a righteous shoot, but,” Hutch shrugged one shoulder, “you know how they get when a cop shoots somebody.”

Hutch sighed, and looked guilty. “I wasn’t armed today. I didn’t think I’d need a gun. I wasn’t able to back him up.”

Dobey reached out to put a hand on his shoulder and shook him slightly.

“Doesn’t sound that way to me. Even without a gun you managed to provide some pretty good back up.”

Hutch shook his head. “Starsky got shot, Captain. That was my fault.”

“It was not your fault.” Hutch didn’t look convinced. Dobey sighed. I hate it when he gets stubborn. The man is like a mule when he gets that way.

“Look…even if you’d had your gun, those two idiots would still have tried to rob the store. There is no way to know what would have happened if you’d been able to shoot one of them, instead of lobbing a bottle of booze. It could have escalated into a gun battle that could have gotten either of you or the civilians killed. And if you hadn’t stopped in at all, Mr. Steinberg would most likely be dead.”

Seeing that he still wasn’t convinced, Dobey continued. “You know better than to play the ‘what if’ game. I know you do. Things happen the way they happen. Dwelling on what might have happened or what should have happened is pointless. The best you can do is learn from this and make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

He had given him the same speech after Starsky’s shooting by Gunter’s hit men. Hutch smiled ruefully and shook his head. “Thanks.”

“Your welcome. Starsky is going to be fine, Hutch.”

He nodded his head. “I know.” He shuddered once, and took a deep, shaky breath. “Just don’t…don’t like seeing him get hurt. You know?”

But the bracelet was relatively new and didn’t have the same design as his watch. Dobey studied it. The detail of the horses was outstanding. Very lifelike.

He was puzzled by the scripted, interlocking S, H that filled the center oval. Those are the same one’s on Starsky’s pendant. At least, they look identical to me. Hmmm. why would they both have that?

Dobey didn’t know much about art, but the designs seemed to have been done by the same artist. They had a similar feel and look to them. The lighthouse and the horse were both very realistic, vibrant even. Maybe they got them from the same place. But…Starsky doesn’t wear his like it was something he bought himself.

If he had to guess, he’d say it was an item that had an emotional context for Starsky, something he valued more for the thought behind it than just for itself. Definitely a gift.

Hutch’s bracelet he wasn’t sure of. It could be something he bought for himself, but he didn’t think so.

“Yeah, I know.” All too well. Don’t like seeing any of my people getting hurt. They are my family. Hutch got up and started pacing again and Dobey let him without comment. He never was one to accept comfort for long. Must go against the ‘take it and act like a man’ image his father drilled into him.

Hutch ran his fingers through his hair. Dobey recognized that gesture of frustration and impatience. The light flashed off his bracelet as he moved his arm. He noticed him wearing it over the past month, but hadn’t really given it much thought.

Being silver and having a substantial look to it, the bracelet matched the watch he usually wore. He knew the watch had belonged to his maternal grandfather. It was something of a family heirloom and had vast sentimental value.

The man rarely wore jewelry; he seldom wore his wedding ring when he was married, so it seems a little out of character for him to buy an article of jewelry for himself. Of course, the wedding ring wasn’t a fair comparison. He knew that Hutch and Vanessa were having trouble long before the divorce. His job and her duplicity about the pregnancy had been pulling them apart for a long time. They had even separated on more than one occasion, trying to work through their problems, always getting back together. He knew Vanessa was the one who had filed for divorce, but Hutch didn’t seem anything but relieved when the marriage was finally over.

His thoughts were interrupted when a doctor appeared. Both he and Hutch stood as he approached.

Some part of him wondered if anyone ever actually sat down to hear bad news. No one I know ever does.

“Sergeant Hutchinson?”

“Yes,” Hutch answered. “How’s Starsky?”

The doctor cleared his throat and glanced down at the clipboard he held. “He’ll be fine with a little bed rest and good as new in a few weeks. The wound he sustained to his rib area is fairly minor. It was bloody, but didn’t really do anything in the way of major damage. Just needed a few stitches to close. The wound to his right arm was a little more serious. The bullet passed cleanly through the tricep muscle, without hitting either the bone or major blood vessels. However, it did tear up the muscle. He will have to restrict movement with that arm and wear it in a sling for the next week or so, depending on how quickly it heals. I also cautioned him about any heavy lifting.”

Hutch raised an eyebrow. “That little bit of advice went over real well, didn’t it?”

The doctor winced. “Like a lead balloon. He didn’t think much of my suggestion that he spend the night either.”

“Starsky doesn’t really care for hospitals.”

Dobey couldn’t help but think of that as a monumental understatement. You could say he dislikes hospitals about the way you could say the ocean holds a little water.

“Can I see him?” Hutch asked.

“Sure. He’s in exam room one. And, if you could convince him to stay the night—”

“Sorry, doc.” Hutch shook his head, but he didn’t look very apologetic. “The best I can do is to convince him to let me look after him.”

The doctor sighed. “Better than nothing, I suppose.” He handed Hutch a prescription slip. “Pain killers and antibiotics. He shouldn’t need the pain killers for more than a day or so but he needs to finish all the antibiotics. I don’t want those stitches getting infected. Also, see to it he gets lots rest and that he drinks plenty of fluids.”

“Can do.” Hutch nodded, and then headed for where Starsky was waiting.

Dobey thanked the doctor, before trailing after Hutch. I know he could convince Starsky to stay if he wanted to. I’ve seen the two of them talk each other into the damnedest things before. Wonder why he doesn’t even want to try? It wouldn’t hurt Starsky to spend a night in the hospital. Might even be a good idea, no matter how much he hates it. I know they’re close, but Starsky hates it when Hutch plays nursemaid. He hates to feel so vulnerable. But then when Hutch was huh, Starsky was more than willing to look after him. 

He had the distinct impression that he was missing something. All the pieces were right there, but he couldn’t quite make out the picture. Come on, man! You used to be a detective, trained in the art of observation. Figure it out.

Dobey hesitated just outside of the curtained area. From where he was standing, he could see Starsky and Hutch, but they couldn’t see him. Starsky was sitting on a gurney, wearing a green surgical type shirt. Must have cut off his tank top.

Hutch was standing next to the bed. He was leaning in close so that they could speak softly enough to not be over heard. If he had to guess, Dobey assumed they were discussing what the doctor had told Hutch and comparing it to what he’d told Starsky. There was nothing obviously intimate about the setting, but Dobey got the distinct impression he was watching a private moment. The closeness and nearly constant eye contact between the two enhanced the overall impression.

He watched as Hutch handed over Starsky’s pendant. Starsky sat forward and attempted to raise his arms to return it to its usual place, but stopped in mid-motion with a wince. Hutch took it back with a shake of his head.

“Why didn’t you just ask me to put it on for you?” He sounded mildly annoyed and faintly exasperated.

Starsky shrugged one shoulder. “Thought I could do it.”

Hutch gave him a sly look. “Un-hunh. Like you were gonna walk to the door instead of taking the stretcher?”

Dobey was astonished when Starsky blushed. “That was different.”

“If you say so. Doesn’t seem all that different to me.” Hutch’s tone was light, teasing. “Here. Let me put it on for you.”

Starsky shifted slightly, giving Hutch easy access to reach around his neck and return his pendant. It could have been just a simple gesture of a good friend and partner, but Dobey felt there was more to it. He frowned. What am I thinking? Hutch was married. And Starsky chases every woman he meets. Except that isn’t totally true…or at least it hasn’t been in some time. And being married doesn’t mean Hutch isn’t interested in men. Starsky is certainly a good-looking man. And Hutch is just as easy on the eyes.

He found himself thinking about his best detective team in an entirely new way. Whether it was at work or the football game earlier that day, Starsky and Hutch always turned up together, usually in Starsky’s car. It wasn’t like Hutch didn’t have his own vehicle and needed a lift.

Dobey knew Hutch had confided more of his past to Starsky than he had anyone else. That whole fiasco with Hutch’s father a few months ago was proof of how close the two of them had become. Dobey had been almost jealous that Starsky was privy to information Hutch had refused to share with him. He was mature enough to realize that who he told wasn’t as important as the fact that he’d finally found someone he trusted enough to open up to.

There was no doubt that he trusted Starsky implicitly and that Starsky trusted Hutch just as completely. It hadn’t been an easy road for either of them to get to that point. Both of them having “issues” that made their current level of trust incredibly difficult to achieve. Watching from the sidelines, Dobey was very familiar with the how far their partnership had come from their first day together.

Shaking off his thoughts, Dobey moved forward, but stopped again to watch. Hutch had pulled back and would have stepped away from the bed if Starsky hadn’t stopped him. Starsky reached out to grab his arm, just above the bracelet.

“Don’t go too far.” They shared a small smile. It didn’t really surprise him that Starsky would initiate some kind of contact. Starsky was a tactile sort of person, often initiating some kind of physical contact with people around him. Dobey hadn’t really given his casual touching nature much thought, until he realized how much of that contact was focused on his partner. Hutch was much more reserved and definitely more conscious of personal space. But, he didn’t object to Starsky’s nearly constant invasion of his space. In fact, he seemed to encourage it.

There was no denying that they were connected on some fundamental level. It reminded him of the relationship he had with his wife. Dobey sighed. He could almost hear Edith saying, “The only way to ever know anything for sure, is to ask. But you better be damn sure you can handle the answer.” Am I okay with them being a couple? Hmmm…may have to give that some serious thought. I don’t think I’m disgusted or offended. A little hard to picture them that way…might be best not to go there just yet.

Realizing he’d been standing in the hallway for several minutes, Dobey squared his shoulders, and walked into the curtained area. “How are you feeling, Starsky?”

Blue eyes met his. “I’m good, Cap.”

“You want to tell me what happened?”‘

Starsky glanced at Hutch before he and Dobey shared a look. He raised an eyebrow at Hutch, and smirked. “You didn’t tell him everything. Did you?”

Hutch snorted. “It isn’t like he’s not going to read the incident report and the evidence from forensics not to mention IA’s findings. Didn’t see the need to go into too much detail. Besides I had a few other things on my mind.”

Starsky chuckled. “Blondie, why don’t you go get my prescriptions filled while I fill the Captain in on what you left out.”

Dobey watched as a look passed between them. They were having an entire conversation with just their eyes. He couldn’t be certain, but he’d be willing to bet money that Hutch was checking to see if Starsky was really all right before he was willing to leave him alone.

Hutch nodded once. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.” He reached out, and what Dobey could only think of as a caress, gently let one knuckle ghost over Starsky’s cheekbone. It was an unconscious gesture, but one that couldn’t be interpreted as accidental.

It wasn’t the sort of contact that he’d never seen between them. I’ve noticed them in situations like this before and they touch each other often like they are trying to reassure themselves as well as their partner. Yet, somehow, this seems different. If he was right in thinking they were more than just partners and friends, then the shock of dealing with one of them being injured hadn’t quite worn off yet or he wouldn’t have seen this caress. If they were always that careless, I would have caught on long before now. Assuming that there is something to catch on to.

Hutch stepped away. “He’s all yours, Cap. Doc told him to sit here for a little while before he can leave. Make sure he stays in that bed until I get back.”

“Will do.” He ignored Starsky’s scowl with practiced ease. Once Hutch left, Dobey gave his undivided attention to Starsky. “So, tell me your version.” He wasn’t too surprised when his description of events was different, but complimentary to Hutch’s. He now had a complete picture of what happened at the wine shop. Now if I could just get as complete a picture about what was going on between the two of them.

Hutch came back into the room just as Starsky finished speaking. “Okay, Starsky. I’ve got your medication. Are you ready to get out of here?”

“More than ready.” Starsky swung his legs over the side and moved to stand up. Hutch was quick to position himself next to Starsky, catching his arm when he swayed.

“Easy, Starsk.” Hutch waited until Starsky was steady before letting go. “You all right, now?”

“Yeah. Just got a little dizzy. No biggie.”

Together they headed toward the exit. Dobey noted that Hutch stayed close enough to catch Starsky, should he need help. He wasn’t surprised that he did it. What did surprise him was that Starsky didn’t object. He didn’t normally accept offers of assistance, didn’t like the implication that he needed help. Just as independent and stubborn as Hutch…except for when it comes to each other. He followed them to the Torino. Once Starsky was safely belted into the passenger seat, he closed his eyes and relaxed. Dobey asked Hutch as he headed around to the driver side, “You going to take him to your house or back to his apartment?”

“House.”

He nodded. Hutch looked at him. He smiled slightly and shook his head. “Why don’t you come out later? That way you can ask me whatever it is you want to ask.”

Dobey frowned. “What makes you think I want to ask you anything?”

“You’ve got that look on your face.”

“What look?” Dobey was immediately defensive.

“The one you get when your trying to put together the pieces of something and you’ve got all the pieces, but you’re not sure what the picture is.” Hutch shrugged. “I’ve seen it enough to know.”

He smiled wryly. Busted. “What time?”

“How about dinner time?”

Well, no time like the present, right? Gives me a few hours to deal with what I think of all this. Not sure if I’ll be ready by then, but when opportunity knocks, it is best to answer the door. “I’ll be there.”

* * * *

Hutch resisted the urge to run his fingers through Starsky’s hair while he slept. He didn’t want to wake him since Starsky had only fallen asleep a few minutes ago. He’s okay. I don’t need to touch him to prove that. I can just look at him.

Hutch forced himself to stay where he was. Held managed to convince Starsky to take the painkillers the doctor had prescribed. He knew Starsky didn’t like taking pills. Hutch didn’t like taking them either, but there was no reason for Starsky to be in pain if he didn’t have to be. And it had been obvious he was in pain.

When they’d gotten home, Starsky had insisted that he didn’t want to lie down, that he was fine. Rather than argue about it, Hutch had compromised on letting him settle, more or less, comfortably in the living room. Hutch had grabbed a quick shower and changed his clothes while Starsky watched TV. It wasn’t too long after that he’d managed to get Starsky to take his pills and finally lie down. Hutch sighed and sipped his beer.

Starsky might need his rest, depending on what Dobey has to say when he gets here. He hadn’t told Starsky that he was coming by later. He didn’t want his partner to worry. He was more than capable of worrying enough for both of them.

Hutch had a pretty good idea of what his captain was thinking. He’d worked with him long enough to understand how and what he thought. He was far too observant to have missed it when he’d caressed Starsky’s cheek. He hadn’t been able to resist touching Starsky, even though he knew it was likely to be witnessed. And he couldn’t have missed the significance of the matching initials on their jewelry. He’d seen him glancing back and forth between the pendant and bracelet. Hell, a blind man could see they were made by the same artist. And there is no way he could have missed how important the pendant is to Starsky. It’s the only piece of jewelry the man wears and he wears it every day.

While nothing they did was out of the ordinary for good friends, he knew Dobey could see more than most. He also knew he would start looking deeper. He would seek out confirmation of his suspicions. Better he hears it from us than from someone else. Not that anyone other than Minnie knows, but if he starts asking other people, could be that someone will start thinking the same way he is.

That wasn’t something Hutch was prepared to deal with just yet. One step at a time was all he could handle. He briefly considered starting something for dinner, but decided against it. He was too nervous to really think about food, and there was no point in making something that might end up ruined if this meeting went badly. There were always leftovers in the fridge that he could warm up if the need arose. Hutch sipped his beer again and glanced at the clock on the mantel. He heard a soft knock at the door.

Right on time.

Hutch put his half empty beer on the kitchen counter as he went to answer the door.

“Come in.” Dobey stepped in. He opened his mouth to say something, but Hutch put up a hand to stop him.

“Starsky’s asleep on the couch.” He kept his voice low. “You want to talk on the porch?” Hutch tipped his head toward the back door.

“Sure.” Dobey also kept his voice low and moved past him. He stopped to look at Starsky.

“He okay?” He didn’t quite whisper, but it was close.

“Yeah. Just took his pain pills about an hour ago.”

Dobey nodded. He headed out the back door and Hutch followed. He made sure to close it quietly behind him. With any luck, he could settle all this without having to involve Starsky. Not that he isn’t part of it, but he doesn’t need to hear this if it goes wrong. At least not right now. That can wait until he’s feeling better.

Dobey walked over to the rail before he turned and leaned his back against it. He sighed softly. “I suppose the best way to do this is to just ask.” He took a deep breath. “So…here goes. How long have you two been more than just partners and friends?”

Trust him not to waste any time. No point in denying it. “Awhile.”

Dobey frowned. “And just how long is that exactly?”

“About nine months.”

“Nine….”Dobey stopped. He pinned him with a hard look. “Who else knows?”

“Just Minnie.”

“I see.”

Hutch could tell by his tone and rigid body posture that he was pissed. He couldn’t tell if it was because someone knew before he did, if it was because they had waited so long to tell him, or if it was his and Starsky’s relationship. He was seriously hoping it was the first or second and not the third.

“Wanted to tell you first, but Minnie…well, it’s a long story. Let’s just say that she caught me and Starsky kissing and let it go at that.”

“And when were you planning to tell me?”

Hutch ran a hand through his hair and looked away. “Just as soon as we figured out how to tell you.”

“Just as soon….” Dobey clenched his hands into fists, his eyes narrowed. “How hard is it to tell me you are FUCKING YOUR PARNTER!”

Hutch stepped closer, suddenly furious with him for belittling what amounted to the best thing in his life. His relationship with Starsky was not about sex, it was much than that. Without even realizing it, he was in his face, towering over him.

“It isn’t like that.” Hutch snarled, his voice soft, but the threat was almost tangible. Part of him enjoyed the fact that he had scared Dobey just a little. He couldn’t back away because he was already against the rail, but Hutch could tell he wanted to. He took a deep breath and forced himself to step back. It wasn’t right to do that to a man, much less his boss.

“And keep your goddamn voice down,” Hutch hissed, still angry but regaining control. “Starsky got shot today and he needs to rest. You will respect that while you’re here. If you can’t do that then this conversation is over. Understand?”

He waited until Dobey nodded before he forced himself to back up another step and give him room.

Dobey wasn’t the only one he’d scared. It wasn’t normal for him to lose his temper quite so fast.

“What’s between me and Starsky is more than just sex. If all I wanted or needed was to get laid, I sure as hell wouldn’t have picked my partner. You know me better than that.”

Dobey took a shaky breath and then another. He shifted a little, so that he was no longer trapped between Hutch and the rail. His expression was sheepish and apologetic. When he spoke his voice was quiet, conversational. “I thought I knew you. Hell, Hutch, you were married.”

“So? Your point is…what? I can only love one person my whole life?”

“No. I just…well, you’ve got to admit this is rather unexpected. I never knew you were into guys. Didn’t realize Starsky was either for that matter.”

Hutch shrugged. “Yeah, well, there is a lot you don’t know about us.”

“Obviously,” he said dryly, crossing his arms over his chest.

Hutch sighed. “Look…when it first happened, I wasn’t…l didn’t know for sure how Starsky felt about it, about us. There wasn’t any point in telling you what was going on if it wasn’t gonna be going on for very long.”

Dobey frowned. “If you didn’t know it was going to be more than a one time thing, why did you even start?”

Hutch shook his head and walked over to the railing. He leaned against it, resting his forearms across it. He looked out over the water, trying to think of a way to explain what he had been thinking at the time. “Because I worked out how I felt and thought I could handle it if that’s all Starsky wanted. And if it was all I was ever going to get, well, I was going to take it. I knew I could still work with him no matter how it went and that I would still want to.”

Hutch shrugged one shoulder. “Didn’t know for sure what it was Starsky wanted, but I knew what I wanted. Him. Do you know how it is to want someone so badly, even if you can’t keep them? I was willing to take whatever he was willing to give.”

Dobey stepped closer. He rested a hand on Hutch’s arm briefly, before mimicking his posture, leaning on the railing. “I can understand that. And I can see why you wouldn’t have told me right away. I’m not totally letting you of the hook for that one, but I do understand.” He sighed, and rubbed one hand over his face. “You said you two have been…well, together, for lack of a better word, for almost nine months now. That’s beginning to sound awfully permanent, Hutch. A lot more than just a fling.”

“Yeah. Well, Starsky and I talked about us.” He looked at him and smiled softly. “I found out we were on the same page. He loves me. I love him. We decided it was worth it to see how far we could go with it.”

“This is what the next of kin thing was all about…wasn’t it?”

“Sort of. When I got hurt, Starsky started thinking that maybe we needed something in writing. There are a lot of horror stories out there about same sex couples being kept apart and he didn’t want that to happen to us.”

“You couldn’t have told me all this then?” Dobey’s eyes narrowed. “You lied to me.”

“I didn’t lie.” Hutch was quick to correct him. He was always careful to be honest with him. “I told you Starsky wanted someone closer than his family to be legally able to make medical decisions for him…and that’s true. It just isn’t the whole truth.”

“You’re splitting hairs, Hutch.” His voice was ripe with accusation.

“Well, it isn’t like I haven’t done it before.” Seeing the expression on his face, Hutch continued, “And it isn’t like you haven’t done the same thing a time or two either.”

Dobey smiled tightly and nodded his head, acknowledging his point. Hutch knew that Dobey knew exactly what he was referring to.

“Fair enough”, Dobey finally acknowledged. “Still doesn’t explain why you didn’t just tell me the whole truth. Did you think I’d condemn your relationship? I’m not a bigot. I’m not homophobic, or anything.” He sounded hurt and insulted. “Despite what I said before.”

“No, I know you’re not. I wasn’t worried that you’d have a problem with…me and Starsky. I was worried that you’d have a problem letting us continue to work together. The department has rules about things like that.” He saw Dobey nod in understanding.

“And if you had to split us up, in addition to probably getting one of us killed, you’d have to give the rest of the office a reason. You know as well as I do, not everyone is as open minded about stuff like this. We have enough to deal with every day without adding hostile and homophobic coworkers to the list.”

“Getting one of you killed?” That instantly got his attention. He put the safety of his officers above everything else. “How?”

“You know as well as I do that there are times this job requires your complete, undivided attention. I’d be too damn worried about Starsky and who’s supposed to be watching out for him, to watch out for myself. I know he’d be the same way. Hell, when you sent me out of town for that trial, I called him twice a day to make sure he wasn’t doing anything on his own, without back up. Damn sure I didn’t actually pay attention to what was going on ’cause I was worried about him.

Only reason he wasn’t as worried about me was because he knew I was in court the whole time. Not much danger in a courtroom. And I’m not supposed to know this but he knows a few guys there. He asked them to check on me now and then just to be sure I was okay.

Dobey smiled. “Starsky doesn’t know you know?”

Hutch chuckled. “Hell, no. It would just piss him off if he knew.”

“I’ve no doubt about that.” Dobey snorted. “Okay. So you two have been together for awhile and no one seems to have noticed. Well, other than Minnie that is.”

“Yeah. Well, there were extenuating circumstances on that one.”

“Hmmm….Do tell?”

Hutch sighed. “Do you remember when Starsky and I had to go upstairs to talk to the brass about what happened with my father and his lawyer?”

“I remember.”

“Yeah, well, when we left, the Chief asked us to bring that file back to you. In the elevator, the photos slipped out. It sort of upset Starsky seeing what happened when I was sixteen.”

Dobey sighed. “I can imagine. It upset me, too.”

Hutch shifted restlessly. It was a part of his life that he tried very hard not to think about. He hadn’t even been able to look at the pictures. He had managed to ignore most of what he couldn’t outright avoid seeing by concentrating on Starsky.

In all honesty, Starsky’s reaction had scared the hell out of him. He’d never seen Starsky quite so shaken and he never wanted to again. Of course, if I had looked at those pictures, I’d have been as big a basket case as Starsky. Probably worse.

Hutch cleared his throat. “Yeah, well, Starsky kind of lost it. He wasn’t expecting to see….” Hutch sighed and hung his head for a moment. “No way to really soft soap that, is there?” Hutch whispered, more to himself than to Dobey and then shrugged. “He wasn’t expecting to see me look like I was nearly beaten to death. Kind of rocked his world a little and we needed a minute to sort of get it together. It was after we got things sorted out, that Minnie more or less walked in on us.”

“And….she’s okay with the two of you being…lovers?”

Hutch smiled slightly. “Oh, yeah. She was more than just okay with us. She thinks we’re good for each other. She thought we should tell you, but I didn’t want to, at least not until we could come up with a way to let you know that wouldn’t force you to split us up. Minnie even offered to help us find a way.”

“I gather that you haven’t had much luck since we’re having this conversation now?”

“Nope.”

“You think I’m such a stickler for regulations that I wouldn’t make an exception?” Dobey sounded offended by the idea that he was so bound by the rules they were forced to keep information from him.

“Not without a damn good reason you wouldn’t.” Hutch kept his voice matter-of-fact. “It’s your job. And you’re very good at it. Making an exception for Starsky and me could cost you in the long run. We had to make sure we had a good reason for you to stick your neck out like that.”

“The fact that I’m your friend wasn’t a good enough reason?”

“You being our friend was the reason we didn’t want to put you in that position in the first place.”

Dobey sighed and shook his head slightly. “Okay. Let me see if I got all this. You and Starsky have basically been together as a couple, for nine months. In all that time, the only one who knows, other than the two of you, is Minnie. No one else has guessed, asked or noticed?”

“Nope. There wasn’t a reason for anyone to notice. We try to keep work and home separate. Neither one of us are into public displays, so it hasn’t been all that hard to act professional at work. And we were spending a lot of time together when we were just partners and friends. No reason for people to notice we’re spending a little more time together now. We haven’t really done anything out of the ordinary.”

Dobey chuckled at that. “I don’t think there is anything that qualifies as ordinary for the two of you.”

“You might be right about that.”

Dobey was silent for a moment and then asked, “Starsky’s not living here with you?”

“Most of the time, yes, he stays here. But he still has his apartment. It would be way too obvious if he moved in here permanently, or I moved in there. We didn’t want to raise any eyebrows. And sometimes it’s nice to have a place in town that’s closer to the office. We stay at his place when it’s easier than coming here.”

Dobey nodded. He cocked his head to one side and seemed to be thinking. “You know, I just finished a six month review of the department.”

Hutch frowned. Okay. And that means what? He didn’t ask, he just waited for him to continue, knowing he was going somewhere with that.

“Did you know that your case closure rate has gone up since the last review?”

“Starsky probably knows, but I haven’t really paid much attention to it.”

“You know what that means?”

Hutch shrugged. “We’re getting the job done.”

“Yeah. And you’re doing it better now that the two of you are a couple than you were before. I’d be a fool to mess with something that so obviously works.”

Hutch raised an eyebrow at him. “We both know people who’ve been fools over lesser things.”

“Yeah, but I’m not one of those.” Dobey smiled. “Or I try not to be. Besides, no one else has noticed anything and, by all rights, I could just as easily claim ignorance. This conversation never happened.”

“That how you want to play it…plausible deniability?”

Dobey shrugged. “Well, it’ll work. If I did split you up…” Dobey sighed heavily, and waved a hand in a vague, meaningless gesture. “I’m not sure what I’d tell the brass or the rest of the office. I’d have to give them some kind of reason. And there aren’t a lot of real good reasons out there for me to break up a team that has worked so well together for years. Especially when neither of you have requested it. And neither one of you are planning to request it. Are you?”

“No.” Hutch’s answer was firm.

Dobey nodded. “I’m not willing to put either of you at risk from hostile homophobic coworkers by outing you. Believe me, I know all about how politically correct theories work out in practice. Lots and lots of talk about diversity and tolerance, but in real life there are a lot of risks in being different.”

He shot him a scathing look. “And I’m not sure who I could even partner the two of you with given your track record with psychopaths, destruction of vehicles, gun battles, obsession with your cases…l doubt I could convince anyone else to work with either one of you.”

Dobey studied Hutch, his eyes narrow, appraising him. “So long as the two of you continue to keep work and home separate, I’m willing to pretend that I don’t know any more than I did this morning. Think you can do that?”

“We can do that.” Hutch waited a moment before looking at him. He made eye contact and held it, wanting the truth. “You okay with this?”

Dobey took a deep breath. “I’d be lying if I didn’t say it would take me a while to get used to it. I have some preconceived notions in my head that I’ll have to adjust. I have been thinking of both of you as straight since the day I met you.” He shook his head and his expression taking on a self-mocking aspect. “Never really thought of the two of you as a couple, or that you both were into men. Can’t believe I missed that. ”

‘Wouldn’t feel too bad about that. We almost missed it ourselves.”

“It doesn’t bother me that you are together. I’m not interested in hearing the details, mind you, but I don’t have a problem with same sex relationships. You are both consenting adults. As long as it doesn’t have a negative impact on the job, we’ll just keep working the way we always have. And for the most part…I’d have to agree with Minnie; you two are good for each other. You deserve to be happy and if you make each other happy, then more power to you.”

Hutch smiled warmly. “Thanks.”

Dobey leaned just enough to bump his shoulder with Hutch’s. “You’re welcome.”

Hutch shifted to bump him back. “You want to stay for dinner?”

He looked at his watch. “As much as I’d like to take you up on that. I can’t. My wife is expecting me to be back soon.”

Hutch nodded. He turned, and stopped cold, seeing Starsky leaning casually in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest. “How long have you been standing there?”

“Long enough.”

Hutch didn’t think Starsky was too angry or upset. But, definitely not happy, which means I’m going to hear about it. Dobey glanced from Hutch to Starsky trying to gauge the situation. “I think you two need to talk. I’ll just show myself out.”

Starsky stepped out on to the porch, making room for Dobey to leave. He waited for the front door to close behind him before glaring at Hutch. “You knew he was coming by?”

“I invited him.”

“Why?” Starsky’s voice was quiet, but the hurt and betrayal he felt at being left out came through loud and clear.

Hutch hung his head, unable to maintain eye contact. He felt guilty about giving them away when they had worked hard to keep their relationship private. And he felt guilty for not including Starsky in his conversation with Dobey, even though he still felt that was the right decision. I didn’t want him to get hurt and it sounds like he did anyway.

“I screwed up at the hospital. When I was in the waiting room I was playing with your pendant. Kinda the same way you do. I saw him make the connection between it and my bracelet. And then…I couldn’t keep from touching you in the examination room. Dobey is a good enough detective to start making connections and I could tell what he was thinking. I invited him to come here and ask. I thought it would be better if he got his answers from one of us, than for him to go stirring up trouble at the office.”

Hutch raised his head when Starsky gently forced him to look up. He hadn’t even heard Starsky move closer. “You didn’t think I should be part of that conversation? I thought we agreed to do it together.” Starsky’s blue eyes no longer held any anger, but still showed a degree of hurt he felt at being excluded.

“I didn’t know for sure how held react. I didn’t want you to have to deal with it if he got nasty. Especially not now.” Hutch delicately touched a finger to Starsky’s upper right arm, ghosting over the white bandage that encircled it.

“It’s a flesh wound, Hutch. Not something incapacitating.”

“You’re hurt. That’s reason enough not to put you in a position that could add to that.” Hutch swallowed hard against the thought that it could have been worse, a lot worse.

“But it would be okay for him to hurt you?”

“Better me than you.” Hutch shifted a little, knowing this answer wasn’t one Starsky would like, but his inability to lie to his partner wouldn’t let him say anything but the truth.

“Not to me,” Starsky whispered harshly. “Not to me. You do not sacrifice yourself for me, partner.” He then pulled Hutch into a warm one-armed embrace. Hutch tenderly wrapped his arms around Starsky, mindful of the wound on his ribs. He laid his head on Starsky’s shoulder and relaxed, simply enjoying being close. “I wish we could stay like this forever.”

“So do I. But listen to me. We do stuff like this together, Hutch. Together.”

Hutch nodded his head against Starsky’s shoulder. “I know. I just didn’t want you to be hurt. You and I have known Dobey a long time and we both know there are times that he has a tongue that could cut steel when he’s pissed. And it was my fault he was putting pieces together. I thought I should take the brunt of it.”

He felt Starsky place a kiss in his hair and then turn his head to rub his cheek against the top of his head. “Not your fault. We both could have been more careful. Besides, it wasn’t like we weren’t planning on telling him. It was just a matter of timing.”

Hutch sighed, and moved to slide closer to Starsky. “Forgiven?”

“Yeah. Just don’t do it again.”

“Promise.”

Starsky nuzzled his hair. “Good.” He hesitated for just a moment before speaking again. “He was actually okay with us?”

He sounds so amazed by that. Hutch smiled. “As long as it doesn’t interfere with the job, he can claim ignorance. He said our closure rate has gone up since we got together and he doesn’t want to mess up something that obviously works. And there isn’t anyone else he could partner us with. He thinks the way we do things makes other people nervous.”

“Always said he was smart.”

“He agrees with Minnie that we’re good for each other.”

“Very smart.”

Hutch chuckled. “He is that.” He pulled back just enough so he could see Starsky’s face. “We wake you up?” Hope he didn’t hear everything. Not that any of it was really all that bad, just…he really didn’t need to hear all of it. Especially the part with him having someone check on me while I was in San Francisco.

“Not really.” A faint blush rose across Starsky’s face. “I…ah…never sleep well if you’re not with me. I woke up looking for you. Figured you’d be out here.” Starsky’s eyes narrowed. “Just didn’t expect Dobey to be here, too.”

“I’m sorry.” Hutch couldn’t help but apologize.

“It’s okay. I know why and I do understand. Don’t agree, but I understand.” He leaned in and kissed Hutch. It was a sweet, gentle kiss. He pulled away slowly. “Love you, Hutch.”

Hutch smiled. “Love you, too, David.”

“We okay?”

“Yeah, I think we are. What’s say we go find something for dinner?”

“Sounds good.”

Together they headed back inside. Hutch headed for the fridge, pulling out leftovers that could be warmed up. He waved off Starsky’s attempt to help. “Sit down.” Starsky scowled at him, but sat at the kitchen table and let Hutch handle putting together a meal for them. Hutch snagged a bottle of water and handed it to Starsky. “Doc said plenty of fluids.”

Starsky just rolled his eyes, but he took the bottle. Hutch smiled when Starsky drank almost half in one long swallow. Loosing blood must have made him thirsty. He forced his mind away from the picture of Starsky lying on the floor bleeding. Do not go there.

They ate quietly, not feeling the need for conversation. Normally this time of day was a chance for them to reconnect and unwind, but tonight they were both just content to be with each other. Hutch noticed Starsky yawning more than once.

“Tired?”

Starsky shrugged. “A little. Been a long day.”

“Yeah. That it has.” Hutch studied his partner. “You okay?” He knew the question would just annoy Starsky, but he couldn’t keep himself from asking. He just had to be sure.

Starsky stared at him for a moment and then smiled. He slid his chair back from the table. “C’mere.”

Hutch frowned but got up and approached Starsky. Starsky patted his lap. “C’mere.” Hutch hesitated and Starsky reached out to pull him forward. With a quiet sigh, Hutch sat so that he straddled Starsky’s legs. Starsky pulled Hutch’s hand up and placed it against his throat. “Feel that?”

Hutch nodded. He could feel Starsky’s pulse beating strongly against his fingertips. It was a steady, reassuring beat. Hutch closed his eyes and breathed deeply. He could feel Starsky’s heartbeat, hear his soft breathing and almost taste the scent of him. Warm, alive and here with me. He’s okay. Nothing that won’t heal.

Several minutes later Starsky asked, “Better?” His question was soft, little more than a whisper.

“Much.” Hutch relaxed for what felt like the first time that day since Starsky had gotten shot. “I just…” Hutch shrugged unable to find the words to express what he’d been thinking and feeling.

“I know.” Starsky moved his head just enough to lay his cheek against Hutch’s. “Been there. Done that.”

Hutch wrapped his arms carefully around his lover. “Thanks.”

“Any time.”

Hutch took a deep breath and pulled away. He got to his feet and offered a hand to Starsky. “Let’s get you tucked in. You’re tired.”

“You going to join me?”

“Yeah.” Hutch smiled warmly at Starsky. “Go on to bed. I’ll be there soon as I clean up here.”

“Good.” Starsky headed toward the bedroom, before stopping to look back. “Don’t take too long.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it. I’ll be right behind you.”

THE END