Where I End, Where You Start

279

A revelation comes to Starsky while he’s got his hands in Hutch’s underwear drawer.

 

This fic was inspired by the beautiful love song — Something that We Do by Clint Black. I think it sums up the relationship between Starsky and Hutch. I also chose to only use Starsky’s POV throughout this story. I view this story as the start of what I’m considering my After Universe–a universe in which Starsky is unable to return to being a cop after the events of Sweet Revenge. I do have more stories planned in this universe although they won’t be in any sort of chronological order. It’s just a certain head canon I want to keep consistent.

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**Love is certain, love is kind**

Starsky watched as Hutch flirted with Judith Kaufman, but he knew, as well as she did, that it was more an expected behavior on Hutch’s part than anything meaningful. Hell even their kiss was about as half-hearted as Hutch kissing a statue.

Starsky hugged the doctor, dutifully kissed her and was kissed in return and when she whispered, take care of him, Detective, he whispered back I will.

He knew Hutch wasn’t back to one hundred percent. Wouldn’t be back to his normal energy or stamina for at least a month. He didn’t know why he’d thought that Hutch would get Callendar’s blood and then he’d be bouncing back to normal within hours. The kid, Yeager’s kid, had bounced back although Starsky guessed youth really did have its advantages in recovery times. But Hutch still spent more time asleep than awake, he still had times his temperature would spike for a few hours, and he still had a counter full of medications that he complained about taking but took anyway. Despite all that, the doctors had assured them both that Hutch would make a full recovery.

It was, Starsky supposed, indicative of how out of it Hutch was when the tucking you in comment went unnoticed. Hutch’s mouth was going a mile a minute– yet another sign of how close his partner was to crashing. Starsky couldn’t help the grin that formed when he looked at Hutch before they exited the building — alive, alive, alive when it had seemed that days ago he would be standing at a grave mourning the death of the best friend he’d ever had, ever would have.

Hutch stumbled as they walked into the sunlight and Starsky reached out to steady him without thought.

“I’m okay,” Hutch said with a grimace. “I’m over it.”

Sure, Starsky wanted to say, but he kept his own counsel and only said, “Yeah. C’mon.”

He wished he hadn’t parked the car as far as he had—all those times of parking in the loading zone and nearly getting towed had him leery of being stranded with Hutch who didn’t really belong out and about Bay City just to say goodbye to a doctor, even if she had saved his life.

No, Hutch belonged back in bed or at least stretched out on either his own or Starsky’s sofa with nothing more to do than be waited on. Starsky himself was running on fumes and he’d never been more grateful for his upcoming four days off.

He’d spent the week Hutch had been in the hospital after receiving treatment tracking down possible other victims — none thank God — and then helping gather even more information on Roper and his connections. At least Roper was out of the picture, his body found dead in a field outside of the city. The feds had gotten involved. Why they hadn’t shown up sooner still pissed Starsky off. Maybe if they had, Hutch wouldn’t have nearly died. Not to mention making sure Callendar’s being turned over to the FBI didn’t mean the man would face charges. He had the feeling Callendar would be disappearing and turning up with a new identity somewhere far away. Each night or whenever he had the time, he’d visit Hutch, even though most of that time was spent just watching his partner sleep — and breathe. He’d never thought about how wonderful it was to just watch someone you loved breathe and to hear their soft murmurs as they slept.

He got Hutch settled in the passenger seat.

“Will you stop fussing?” Hutch grumbled as Starsky pulled at the seatbelt. “I can put the damn thing on myself. And why you insist we wear them now…”

“Humor me,” Starsky said but let the belt go. “Excuse me for caring.”

Hutch ducked his head and mumbled something that might have been an apology. Starsky rested a hand on the nape of Hutch’s neck and squeezed gently — accepted and understood. Starsky kept mouth shut when Hutch latched the seat belt.

They weren’t on the highway for more than ten minutes with Hutch still going on about yogurt and long lives when midway through a sentence, he dropped off.

Starsky looked at him, at the way the sun touched his hair, highlighted the paleness of Hutch’s skin, and made a decision. He wanted to be waited on himself, too. They’d both earned this.

He pulled off the next exit, found a phone at a gas station, and called Hutch’s doctor, then Huggy.

“Hey Hug,” he said when the other man answered, rushed on before he could change his mind. “You remember that place you were telling me about. The one near Palm Springs. The resort?”

“The Desert Oasis Resort and Spa?” Huggy asked. “Yeah. I remember. My cousin’s friend’s cousin is some sort of bigwig there.”

Starsky took a deep breath. “You think you could get me and Hutch in there for a coupla days? Starting today?”

There was silence on the other end of the line for a moment. “You have any idea what that place costs, Starsky?”

Starsky had some idea — and he knew he was ready to empty out his savings to stay there with Hutch, to get away from the city and responsibility. “I do. But maybe they have some sort of special. It’s gotta be off season and it’s a Tuesday.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” Huggy told him. “Where do you want me to call you?”

“I’m headed to the bank, then my place and then Hutch’s. I’ll call you back in about an hour or so.”

“Got it.” Huggy was silent again before he spoke. “How’s he doing?”

“He’s getting there,” Starsky said as if that was the only thing that mattered. “He’s sleeping and I wanna get moving before he wakes up.”

“I’ll get on it,” Huggy said. Starsky heard him swallow. “Take care of him, okay?”

Starsky’s throat felt strangely tight. “Yeah.”

He pulled into the bank drive-through and withdrew all but twenty five dollars of his checking account. He’d already decided if the amount he had didn’t cover it, he’d use his credit card. And if Huggy couldn’t get them a room at the resort, he was going to head up or down the highway until he found a nice hotel for them to stay in.

Hutch woke up when Starsky parked at his own apartment.

“We home?”

“Not quite. Just gotta run into my place and get some clean clothes.”

“You don’t have to stay at my place,” Hutch told him. He kept his eyes closed and Starsky wanted nothing more than to run his hand through Hutch’s hair, to rub away the tension around Hutch’s eyes, to take Hutch into his arms and whisper it’s gonna be alrights in Hutch’s ear.

“I don’t. But I want to,” Starsky said. “Be back soon.” He patted Hutch’s left hand where it lay, palm upturned and vulnerable before running up the stairs and packing what he thought would be suitable attire for the resort.

“Home now?” Hutch yawned as he got back in only ten minutes later.

“Yeah yeah,” Starsky said and hoped Hutch would fall asleep again before they were on the road.

Hutch woke up when Starsky pulled up to Venice Place but luckily for Starsky he didn’t seem quite enough awake to recognize his surroundings.

As Starsky stood in Hutch’s bedroom, pulling out underwear and socks and everything else, he wondered briefly what it said about his relationship with Hutch that he actually knew which drawer held Hutch’s underwear and which ones Hutch would prefer. He didn’t know those things for a single other man — certainly not his previous partners on patrol. Hell he didn’t even know it for his own brother. It was one of those things he realized they’d fallen into — like borrowing each others shirts or spending the night or having toothbrushes and the other’s favorite toothpaste, shampoo, and soap at each apartment. Not only that, he mused, as he stuffed the clothes in the suitcase, their suitcases even matched. How weird was that? How weird was it that it didn’t feel weird and felt right in a way that he only remembered feeling right one time before in his life?

He was zipping up Hutch’s suitcase when it hit him — and he wondered why the lightbulb above his head hadn’t lit up before. He loved Hutch. He fucking loved Hutch. Not the kind of brotherly love or friendship he saw between a lot of the other guys, but full on I love you and I want to fuck you senseless love. It didn’t matter that Hutch was a guy. Starsky had experimented with other guys over the years and loved sex with them as much as sex with any woman. It was just…hell, he was in love with Hutch. He looked at his face in the mirror and wondered if it showed, if Hutch could see it. More importantly if Hutch wanted to see it.

There had been those conversations about John Blaine and Hutch had seemed like it hadn’t, shouldn’t, didn’t matter but then again what people said and what people did and felt and meant could be totally different. What had Hutch made of Starsky’s own comments then? Starsky had been hurt, hurt because John hadn’t trusted him, had kept a whole part of his life secret. Had John thought so little of Starsky? Had he thought Starsky would judge him? Had he known Starsky’s own desires? Not gonna think about it, Starsky told himself sternly. All that matters now is that Hutch needs to recover and come back.

He went in the living room, dumped all the pill bottles into the suitcase, and called Huggy.

“You’re in, my friend,” Huggy said. “Not only that, you’re in with a sizable discount thanks to yours truly.”

“Thanks,” Starsky said and suddenly found his heart beating faster. He ran out the apartment, tossed the bag in the back seat and started driving before he could change his mind.

Hutch woke up an hour into their trip and this time he was truly awake. He looked out the window at the passing scenery and then back again to Starsky three times before he opened his mouth.

“This isn’t my apartment,” he said.

Starsky couldn’t help grinning. Hutch didn’t sound angry, just confused. “That’s cause we’re going away for a few days.”

Hutch opened his mouth, but Starsky reached across and put a finger against his lips. “Nope. No arguing. Your doctor said it’d be okay, Dobey knows we’re off and unavailable for a couple of days, and I already have reservations.”

Hutch sat silent for a few minutes, drumming his fingers against his thigh.

“Okay,” he finally said.

That alone told Starsky all he needed to know. His partner still wasn’t back to normal. When had telling Hutch not to argue ever stopped him from giving his opinion before?

“That’s it?” Starsky said, thrown off by the fairly quick, for Hutch at least, capitulation. “No more questions?”

“I have one,” Hutch said. “Did you pack me underwear?”

Starsky couldn’t contain the laugh that bubbled up. The first time he’d truly laughed in what felt like forever.

* * * *

Starsky saw Hutch seated in the lobby before he went through the check in process. A quick glance around told him exactly what kind of resort this was — not a woman in sight and every male employee buff and bronzed.

“Here you go, Mister Starsky,” the desk clerk said as he handed him the keys. “There’s a book in your suite telling you all our amenities. We hope you and your friend enjoy your stay. Please feel free to call the front desk if you need anything.” That comment was followed with a wink and a smile. “Jase will take your bags to your room for you.”

“Thanks,” Starsky told him. Hutch was half asleep on the chair he’d chosen and Starsky had to shake his shoulder to wake him.

They followed Jase through the courtyard and past one of the three pools on the property. Hutch looked around, a frown on his face but he remained silent.

“Thank you, sir,” Jase said as Starsky slipped him a bill at the door. “If you need anything, please ask for me.”

Starsky deposited the bags on the dresser and watched as Hutch sank down on the only bed in the room.

“Uh,” Hutch said and he looked more awake than he had for hours. “Starsky.”

“Yeah?” Starsky walked around the room, pulling open the blinds to a view of a garden and the Jacuzzi on their private, secluded patio. Discretion, not surprisingly, was a major feature of the resort.

“There’s only one bed.”

Starsky shrugged. “It’s a big bed. Plenty of room for both of us.”

“And there are only men here. I mean I only saw men — and some of them were sunbathing naked.”

Yeah, Starsky hadn’t planned on that. He was starting to regret the whole brilliant plan he’d had. It was true that he hadn’t quite grasped that the Desert Oasis Resort and Spa was a gay resort and spa. Huggy had handed him the brochure months back and all he’d seen was a getaway about three hours from home and a chance to relax and not have to worry about anything for a few days.

It wasn’t as if Hutch had given him any inkling that he was interested in anything more than what they already had. And it wasn’t even as if Starsky himself wanted Hutch to think he was pushing him into something. He just wanted it all — and he’d come to the realization that he wanted it with Hutch, even if that realization was only a few hours old.

“We don’t have to do that,” Starsky finally said when the silence between them grew too long. “You’ll burn.”

Hutch made a sound that could have been a smothered laugh or maybe a cough. He got up and stood at the sliding glass doors that led to the patio.

“Everything’s included,” Starsky said as he finished emptying the suitcases. “All we gotta do is just sit back and relax for three nights and two days.”

“It’s a resort for…” Hutch looked at Starsky, his eyes seeming bluer than normal. “It’s a gay resort.” He blinked. “Did you know that?”

Starsky opened the doors and stepped onto the patio. “Not really. Huggy told me about it a few months back and gave me a brochure.” He put his hands on the back of one of the lounge chairs so he didn’t reach out and steady Hutch as he joined him. “I noticed all the pictures were of men, but…” He trailed off.

Hutch sat down on one of the loungers, tilted his head back and closed his eyes. Starsky adjusted the umbrella so it shaded him before sitting down on the other chair.

“I just thought it’d be nice, you know? Get away. Be waited on. Not have to worry about…” He left the rest unsaid.

“I am better,” Hutch said. “You do know that, right?”

“Yeah,” Starsky said and turned his head to look back at the dresser which had an array of pill bottles across its surface. By the time, he looked at Hutch again, the other man was asleep once more.

He went in, grabbed the book that had all the information on the resort and took it back outside to sit and read while he waited for Hutch to wake up from his nap.

* * * *

**It’s flying high and laying low**

“We can leave if you want,” Starsky said when Hutch woke up. “If you’re uncomfortable here, you know. We can go home and just eat…”

“It’s fine,” Hutch said. “Might be nice to be waited on for once.”

“We don’t even have to leave the suite,” Starsky said, wanting to fix things, to make sure that nothing would ruin their time together. “No one has to know we’ve been here.”

Hutch groaned as he shifted and Starsky reached out to steady him as he sat up.

“You…”

“Stop it,” Hutch said, with a bit of the fire Starsky was used to. “You don’t need to hover. I’m stiff from sleeping.” He looked at the garden. “Do you mind if we don’t do anything this evening?”

“Still tired?” Starsky asked. He tossed the book outlining the resort’s amenities over to him. “We can order room service. Maybe walk around this garden? Soak in the hot tub?”

Hutch nodded as he picked up the book. “I sleep the day away and could still sleep some more.”

“You’re doing better than you were last week,” Starsky said. He kept his eyes on Hutch as the other man bent his head to read the menu for room service. Still paler than he should be, still not his usual self, but compared to the man whose hand he’d held while he gasped for breath whose hair had been matted with sweat and who cried with the pain, Hutch was glowing with health.

Starsky finished organizing their things while they waited for room service to deliver their meals. Hutch continued reading the book and although Starsky doubted he’d want to take advantage of most of the amenities, maybe tomorrow they could drive into Palm Springs and do some window shopping, maybe even get some Christmas shopping done or go to the Living Desert zoo. Or maybe they could just enjoy sitting around and doing nothing.

Their food was delivered and they sat on the patio by the fire Starsky started in the fire pit, taking their time eating delicious steak and baked potatoes. Hutch even ate some of Starsky’s chocolate dessert. Wine would have been nice but Starsky didn’t want to drink while Hutch still had to abstain.

“The hot tub might help work some of the kinks out,” Starsky said after the remains of their meal had been collected. “And I even threw in swim trunks for both of us.”

“May as well,” Hutch finally agreed. “Not like either of us could afford one at home.”

Starsky laughed. “It’d be nice to have one in your greenhouse.”

“Right before it fell down into the restaurant.” Hutch smiled and Starsky thought he might just melt from the heat of it.

They settled in for a soak. Starsky wondered why it was they always sat side by side — same side of the booth, and now next to each other in the hot tub, Hutch’s knee touching his, Hutch’s foot against his own. He hadn’t realized how much weight Hutch had lost during his illness until Hutch had emerged from the bathroom dressed in swim trunks. Hard to believe that for being sick for what was relatively a short time, Hutch could have lost much weight, but it showed in the hollow of his belly, in the pale skin of his flank.

He looked at his friend who sat sunk down in the water, his head tilted back, looking at the stars. He mirrored Hutch’s position.

“You forget how many stars there are when you’re in the city,” Hutch said. “How clean air can be.”

Starsky turned his head, found the profile of Hutch’s face, the column of his throat more fascinating than the stars. How had he been so blind? And why now? Why was it now he realized he had been longing for something he could never have?

“Starsk?” Hutch asked. “You awake?”

And Starsky turned his attention back to the sky before Hutch could catch him staring. “Yeah. Just…thinking.”

“I knew I smelled smoke,” Hutch said with a quiet smile.

Starsky let the water lap over him, listened to the sound of Hutch’s breaths, slow and easy, counted them as he had during the first days after he’d been given the serum. Alive — Hutch was alive and if that all he had for the rest of his days it would have to be enough.

* * * *

** Still it feels brand-new **

“I said I’ll be fine,” Hutch grumbled as they made their way into their suite late the next day. But he sank down on the bed all the same.

“We can have room service again,” Starsky said as he watched Hutch stretch out and close his eyes.

“We talked about trying out one of the restaurants,” Hutch murmured.

“There’s always tomorrow.” Starsky waited a few minutes not surprised when Hutch didn’t reply. He checked his watch. Let him sleep for an hour or so and then order room service again.

He busied himself with putting away their purchases — a handmade doll they’d found for Rosie Dobey, a jacket for Huggy that would appeal to the man’s eclectic taste in clothes, a sculpture of a mother and children for Edith Dobey, and a handmade mechanical pencil and pen set for Cal which would be one he could carry with him when he went off to college the next year. Starsky took a shower and imagined Hutch with him, his big hands skimming down Starsky’s torso to take his cock in those beautiful nimble fingers, his lips against Starsky’s neck, his breath whispering across sensitive nipples, his smile lighting up as he found some new way to pleasure Starsky.

Starsky leaned against the tiles, panting as he came, his body shuddering with the aftermath of his fantasy. He straightened a few minutes later, focused on the task at hand and spent time making sure there was no trace of his release remaining in the shower.

He put on his bathrobe, sat beside Hutch on the bed, and allowed himself the merest bit of a dream of a future with Hutch as his lover.

* * * *

* * Let your strongest feelings show, And your weakness, too* *

They sat in the hot tub after they returned from the restaurant. Hutch’s nap had done him more good that Starsky had hoped. And even after only a few days away, he had to admit Hutch was looking healthier. As they had the last two nights, they sat side by side, Hutch’s thigh against his, the length of Hutch’s foot beside his.

“Back to the grind tomorrow,” Starsky said.

“For some of us,” Hutch said with what sounded like disgust.

“You’ll be back before you know it,” Starsky said. “Hitting the streets with your favorite partner.”

Hutch looked at him, frowned before a grin lit his face and his eyes. “My only partner.”

For a moment, Starsky couldn’t breathe. He closed his eyes, counted to ten. When he opened them again, Hutch was looking at him with concern, his brow wrinkled, one hand out of the water.

“You okay?”

Starsky nodded and then did something he knew he would regret. He took hold of Hutch, pulled him closer and kissed him full on the lips.

Hutch pulled back and his expression wasn’t one of disgust, but rather confusion. “Starsk? You drunk? No, no, you can’t be drunk. You only had one beer.”

“Not drunk,” Starsky said. He could feel his face heat with embarrassment — or was it shame?

“You k-kissed me.”

“I did.” Starsky couldn’t look at Hutch any longer.

“You kissed me,” Hutch said again, his voice louder and stronger.

“Are you mad?”

“I’m…No, I’m not mad,” Hutch said. “But I don’t know why you did.”

“I love you,” Starsky said. He kept his head tilted back, looking up at the stars.

“I love you too, partner,” Hutch said. His voice still had that question in it.

“No. You don’t understand. I love you.” Starsky hated the way his voice sounded as if it was breaking.

“You love me. As in you love me like you loved T…” Hutch’s voice dropped away.

Starsky found he could only nod, a huge lump had suddenly decided to take up residence in his throat.

“Uh. Oh. Um.”

“I’m sorry,” Starsky said, blurted it out before Hutch could tell him how much he hated him, how Starsky had screwed up their partnership for good.

“Look at me,” Hutch said and when Starsky couldn’t, he felt Hutch’s fingers on his cheek, forcing him to face him.

“I’m sorry,” Hutch said. His eyes were glistening and Starsky remembered Hutch sitting with him on the floor, a Monopoly board between them. “I’m sorry I can’t be the man you need me to be.” His voice gave a little hitch then.

Starsky nodded and felt his own eyes well up with tears. “Maybe we just forget this ever happened?”

“Yeah,” Hutch said. It almost sounded as if his heart was breaking.

But that night when they went to bed, Starsky stayed awake until Hutch fell asleep and then moved to the sofa. He couldn’t, wouldn’t ruin the best friendship he’d ever had in his life due to his own stupidity. And when Hutch asked him about it in the morning, he told him that the bed had been bothering his back all along. He knew it was the way it was going to be from now on — lying to each other about the secrets of the heart.

* * * *

**It’s holding tight, lettin’ go**

He wasn’t sure when the subtle shift began — when they lost the special something they’d always had, that strange synchronicity. Starsky missed it more than he could say, but he kept his thoughts to himself. Maybe it was when Vanessa was murdered, maybe the senseless death of Jackson, or when Hutch had decided to punish him by pretending to have amnesia of all things. Or maybe it was when Hutch made the decision to walk into a hostage situation without him by his side. Not that he could have actually been anywhere other than where he was, but Hutch seemed reckless in a way Starsky couldn’t remember him being before.

Had he made Hutch that way? Had his kiss, his confession driven his partner, his best friend away? He made sure not to reach out first, kept their work as professional as he could and missed the times he could show up at Hutch’s with no warning or have Hutch drop by without that twist in his gut that he, David Michael Starsky, had ruined the best thing that had ever happened to him.

“Softly,” he’d said to Hutch once what seemed liked forever ago, “don’t antagonize the people I need.” He needed Hutch. He’d do well to follow his own advice.

And then he’d spent six weeks on leave back in New York when his mom had a heart attack at the beginning of the summer. She’d come through it thankfully, but for four of those weeks, he hadn’t heard from Hutch. Dobey only said Hutch was undercover on an assignment and that was that. No matter how much he pushed for more information on that, it was never forthcoming.

For the first time in a long time, Starsky considered moving back to the city. But his mom had slapped him upside the head and told him not to be anymore of a fool than he already was.

He got off the plane, grabbed his suitcase, and headed towards the exit. Hutch had said he’d pick him up, even if it was two in the morning. So he looked for a bright blond head in the surprisingly crowded airport and walked past a man who stood slouched against a wall.

“Hey, you planning on walking home?” the man said.

Starsky turned and realized he didn’t recognize his friend. Hutch’s hair was longer, he’d gained weight, and his body language spoke of weariness of more than the hour. And he had a–

“You grew a…” Starsky drew a finger across his own top lip.

“Yeah,” Hutch said but didn’t offer anything more. He jerked his head towards the doors. “You got everything?”

Starsky nodded and fell into step beside him.

“How’s your mom doing? She sounded good when I talked to her on Friday.”

“The doctors said she’ll be okay. Has to slow down a bit and Aunt Esther and her got an apartment together. Be easier on both of them. She says hi by the way and to call her for any other recipes you want.”

Hutch smiled softly at that, and for a few brief moments, Starsky let himself think everything was back the way it was, the way it was supposed to be.

He settled back into the normal routine quickly. He became acutely aware of each time Hutch touched him, a seemingly small electricity. He said nothing about it, and they both pretended The Kiss, because to Starsky it would always be in capital letters, never happened.

And it was all too soon that he was nearly too late to save his partner.

“Why the hell did you drink soup out of a can without heating it up?” he whispered by Hutch’s bed. “I can’t take you doing this to me. To yourself.”

The insight was nearly as breath-taking as it had been when he stood in Hutch’s room packing his partner’s underwear.

‘I’m sorry I can’t be the man you need me to be.’ Hutch’s soft, defeated words rang in Starsky’s brain.

“Is that what you’re doing, buddy?” Starsky said as he allowed himself to wrap his fingers around Hutch’s lax ones. “Trying to show me how unworthy you are? Because it ain’t gonna work. You are exactly what I need you to be. Yourself.”

But because he later decided he was a coward, he didn’t say those words to Hutch when he could finally hear them.

They were like the creature in the the Doctor Doolittle movie, he decided, the Pushmi-Pullyu–at cross purposes and stagnant. They only could accomplish anything by working together, but somewhere, somehow they’d lost that once effortless ability and he didn’t know how to get it back.

* * * *

**There’s no request too big or small, We give ourselves, we give our all**

Starsky missed sex. He was tired of only the company of his left hand and the images of Hutch that accompanied his showers more often than not.

Joan Meredith was more than a welcome distraction. They lay in bed in the afterglow and she rolled over, propped herself up on his chest and smiled.

“You’re beautiful,” Starsky said, brushed his fingers over her face, touched her glorious hair.

“You too,” she said, her eyes dark and dancing and merry. “It was fun.”

“Can’t say that’s something I’ve been told before,” Starsky said. “Is that a criticism of my performance?”

“Your performance was just fine,” Joan said with a deep laugh. “But…”

“Uh oh. You sound like Hutch. Starsky I love ya, but…” He trailed off.

“Yeah,” Joan said. She let her fingers rest on Starsky’s lips. “Question for you, detective.”

Starsky raised his eyebrows and nodded.

“Would you give it all up for him? For Hutch, I mean? If he said yes to you, if he needed you, would you throw away your whole career just for him?”

“Of course I would. What kind of a question is that?” Starsky asked.

“That’s the difference between you and me, Dave.” Joan sat up, the blankets pooling around her waist. “Between me and Hutch too, I guess. I wouldn’t give it all up. I’m not ready to give it all up if someone asked.”

“I can’t…he doesn’t…” Starsky took her hand, interlaced their fingers.

“He loves you too. He just isn’t ready to admit it yet.” Joan leaned down, kissed him gently. “It’s going to be okay, Dave. You just need to keep hanging on.”

“I’m sorry,” Starsky said to her. He felt as though he’d somehow let her down.

“Whatever for?” Joan smiled again. “I like sex, you like sex. We had sex. Sounds like a great deal for both of us.”

Starsky laughed and pulled her close again, covering her with kisses.

* * * *

Starsky slammed the heel of his hand into his steering wheel. Anger seemed too mild a word for what he was feeling. A fool — he’d been acting a fool for months now. Maybe me and thee was dead — maybe now it needed to be me and whatever partner Dobey put him with.

“Damn it. God damn fucking idiot.” He wasn’t sure if he meant himself or Hutch.

‘I’m sorry I can’t be the man you need me to be.’

The words wouldn’t stop echoing in his head. Hell, they’d been there for months. How could Hutch have…how could he have been with Kira when he knew Starsky was…God damn fucking it all to hell.

“Yeah,” Starsky said aloud. “The one I trusted is dead.”

He started the car and drove away. His hand still stung but his heart hurt worse.

* * * *

He broke down when he made his weekly phone call to his mom.

“Davey?” she asked, her voice suddenly gone quiet. “What aren’t you telling me?”

“What makes you think I’m not telling you everything, Ma?” Starsky placed the beer bottle on the coffee table and brought his legs up onto the couch.

“I’m your mother. You’re sad.” He heard an exasperated sigh. “Now tell me, what’s going on?”

And he did tell her — all the pain, all the anger, all the betrayal he felt pouring out in a way that he would have done with Hutch if he hadn’t been an idiot and kissed him months ago.

There was a long silence and he waited, stared at the wall and wondered if he’d just lost his mom too.

“I love you, David,” she said. “You know that. There is nothing you could ever do that would make me stop. And I love Kenneth too. Like another son.”

“I know, Mom,” Starsky admitted. “I just…I don’t know what to do any more. I’m losing him and I don’t know if I can go through life without him in it.”

“Do you remember that old tom cat that used to come in our yard?” His mom’s voice was soft, gentle.

Starsky rested his head on the back of the couch and closed his eyes. He did remember.

The cat, a skinny gray thing with half of one ear and a scarred face, showed up in their neighborhood one summer. He wanted a pet at the time, so he decided the cat would be his. It hissed and yowled and didn’t let him approach for weeks — not even when he’d taken out some of the lox his mom had bought for a special occasion.

“You’re scaring him, Davey,” his mom had said. “He’s been hurt by other people, not by you, but he doesn’t know that you’re not like them. That you love him and you won’t hurt him. He wants to see if you are still going to love him no matter what.” It had taken most of that summer until the cat had finally cautiously allowed Starsky to pet it — a summer spent waiting and watching and just being there when the tomcat showed up.

“Let him come to me,” Starsky finally said on the phone. “Be patient.”

“He needs to make up his own mind,” she said. “He loves you. Have you ever doubted that?”

He didn’t hesitate in his answer. “No.”

****

They walked out of The Pits together and on the sidewalk, Hutch looked at him, the façade he’d kept up while Kira was there crumbling.

“Starsk.”

Starsky closed his eyes. No matter the best of his intentions, he couldn’t resist that voice. There was a reason Minnie and Huggy hadn’t said a name but only named the color of the person’s hair.

He looked down to see Hutch reach out his hand and didn’t move his own away in response.

“I…I’m sorry,” Hutch said. “You don’t know how sorry I am.”

Starsky wanted to yell, wanted to say you can’t ever be sorry enough. I trusted you. You betrayed me. But he was silent and thought of the skinny gray cat and let Hutch touch the back of his hand briefly and then withdraw his fingers and look down the street at God knew what.

He knew right then that no matter what, what Joan had said was true. He’d give it all up for Hutch, would follow him into hell if that was where they were led. And when he looked into the blue eyes that were once again staring at him, he knew Hutch would do the same for him.

“Me and thee,” Starsky whispered. “Always has been. Always will be.”

And when bullets shattered his life on a warm sunny day in May, he knew it could never be anything else.

* * * *

**We help to make each other all that we can be**

The first voice he heard when he woke was Hutch’s, Hutch’s was the first face he saw, the first touch he registered.

And it was Hutch who held him when he cried with pain, with the knowledge that his life would never be the same again, that being a cop was now out of the question.

“We’re gonna be okay,” Hutch said over and over. “We’re gonna make it.” He said it so often that Starsky finally believed him and he didn’t fail to notice that Hutch always used “we” not “you.”

Luckily the staff was understanding of how important Hutch was to Starsky’s continuing recovery and as such, grew used to his visiting at all hours even if Starsky was sleeping.

* * *

“Hey buddy.”

Starsky grabbed onto the familiar voice as if it was a life preserver and the only thing that was keeping him from drowning.

“Hutch?”

“The one and only.”

He opened his eyes to see Hutch leaning over him, his eyes bright with what could have been tears, his face looking strange. “I’m sorry. The party. I’m sorry.”

“You shaved,” Starsky said before he needed to cough. “Cut your hair.”

“Shh,” Hutch said. “Don’t try to talk. Nasty bug, huh?”

Starsky just nodded. He reached out, not surprised when Hutch took hold of his hand and sat down.

“Just rest,” Hutch told him. “Just breathe.”

Starsky reached towards his face with his other hand only to have Hutch intercept it.

“Let the mask on,” Hutch told him. “You need it.”

He decided to listen. Hutch would take care of it, he always did.

He woke up to the sound of whispering and turned his head to see Hutch in the chair by his bed.

“I have sinned against you in thought, word, and deed, by what I have done and left undone.”

As Starsky listened the words were repeated again and again in that same desperate tone.

‘I’m sorry I can’t be the man you need me to be.’ Even in his misery, Starsky could hear Hutch saying that horrible phrase.

Starsky squeezed Hutch’s hand, anything to get his partner’s attention.

“Starsk?”

“Yeah.” Starsky nodded. He felt as if he’d been running for miles and miles, but it was a good kind of tired. He’d wanted to tell Hutch for so long, needed him to hear it and more importantly to believe it.

“You are,” he said. “You are.”

Strong callused fingers touched his forehead. “You okay? Your fever’s down, but you aren’t making sense. I am?”

Starsky nodded again. “You are exactly the man I need you to be. You’re Hutch.”

Starsky could count on one hand the number of times he’d seen Hutch cry, really cry when he wasn’t on drugs or otherwise impaired. Twice–when Gillian had been murdered and after Terry’s death. That was it. He was sure Hutch had cried other times, but despite his outbursts of anger and those glorious times when Hutch was deliriously happy, Hutch could be quite secretive about the way he felt. So he wasn’t prepared when he felt tears splash against their joined hands.

He didn’t let go as Hutch bent forward and rested his head against their joined hands.

“We’ve gotta talk,” Hutch whispered. “Not now. Not yet, but soon.”

* * * *

** Love isn’t some place that we fall, It’s something that we do **

Starsky woke up when the one of the nurses came into his room to roll him to his side — a task he hadn’t quite mastered yet with still weak muscles. She propped him with pillows behind his back, one between his legs, and whispered for him to use the call button if he needed anything between now and her next check.

He nodded and then he heard the quiet whisper.

“Hey.”

“Hutch,” Starsky whispered back. There was no one else in there so the whispering wasn’t necessary, but it seemed somehow appropriate in the darkened room.

“How ya doing?” Hutch asked as he touched Starsky’s hand.

Starsky tightened his fingers around Hutch’s. He’d never really thought about how strong Hutch’s hands were until he found himself holding onto those hands more and more. “Oh you know, same old, same old.”

Hutch let out a small huff that could have been a laugh. “Yeah.” He rubbed his other hand over his forehead as if he had a headache.

“Long day?” Starsky asked. “The Feds?”

Hutch nodded. “Til they get done with Gunther, the man’ll be lucky if he lives out even one tenth of his sentence.” He was quiet for a time and Starsky thought that he might have drifted off.

“Dobey talked to me today,” Hutch said. “A…a…about taking the exam.”

“You’re gonna take it right? Become a lieutenant? Get off the streets?”

Hutch began to rub his thumb over the back of Starsky’s hand in a slow soothing circle. “I don’t know.”

“I can’t be there to watch your back anymore.”

“I know. But I don’t know if I want to be there at all if you aren’t.” Hutch tilted his head back, looked at the ceiling as if the answer was there.

“I go to the rehab center tomorrow and no visitors for the first two weeks,” Starsky said. “You’ll have time to study.” Another thought came to him. “You said we needed to talk. And I’m pretty sure you’ve been avoiding it.”

Hutch took a deep breath and then another. Starsky swore he could feel the slightest tremble in them.

“Yeah, I did say that, didn’t I?” He let out a long sigh. “I don’t know where to start.”

“Beginnings are good,” Starsky said. When there was no response, he continued. “Or wherever you need to start.”

“There’s something about me you don’t know.” Hutch let go of Starsky’s hand, pulled back.

Starsky almost reached out but he remembered that old skinny cat. Let him come to you, he told himself.

His partner, his best friend, the person he loved hunched forward in the chair and whispered something so quiet, Starsky couldn’t hear it the first time.

“Hutch?”

“I said I’m gay.” Hutch looked up and even in the dim light, Starsky saw the fear in his eyes.

“Okay,” Starsky said. He didn’t know what Hutch wanted from him.

“No. You don’t understand. I’m gay and I…I…l…love you.”

“When we were at the resort last year, I kissed you,” Starsky said. He was confused. Why would Hutch think he would be repulsed?

“David. Ken.” Two nurses came into the room. “We know this will be the last time you can see each other for a little bit, so we thought we’d make sure you both would be comfortable tonight.” They were pushing a cot and moved it close to the bed and set it up. “You can sleep here tonight.”

“Thank you,” Starsky said in unison with Hutch.

The nurses left, quiet as always and Starsky waited until he was sure they weren’t just outside the door.

“I kissed you and I thought I’d stepped over some line. How long, Hutch?”

“I’ve never not liked men,” Hutch said. He got up, stood by the beds, and kept his arms folded against his chest as if to ward off any touch.

“I’ve tried so hard, Starsk. Tried so hard to not fall in love with you, to be the kind of man my parents and everyone wants me to be.” He turned away. “I got married, had girlfriends, and ever since I’ve met you, you’re the only one I’ve ever wanted.”

Starsky thought he could weep with the pain that came with every word. “Why didn’t you tell me? Why didn’t you give in last year?”

“Tell my partner who has sex with women that I love him and want to have sex with him? Do you think I wanted to ruin what we already had.” He sat down on the cot as if his legs couldn’t hold him any longer. “Do you think I wanted you to hate me as much as I hated myself?”

“I like sex,” Starsky finally said. “I like sex with women–and with men.” He heard a soft ‘oh’ from Hutch. “Why do you think I kissed you and told you I loved you, you big lug?”

Starsky reached out his hand, not sure if Hutch would take it. He held it tight when those long fingers closed around his. “I love you, you idiot. I knew it after you were so sick and I was in your apartment packing your underwear.” Then the other words hit him. “You hate yourself?”

Hutch’s hand shook in his. “I…there’s…I tried so hard, Starsk. Tried so hard to be what you needed me to be and I failed again.”

“You’ve never failed me,” Starsky said. “If we, and I do mean we, not you or I, ever failed it’s because we didn’t talk, forgot about me and thee.”

“You got shot,” Hutch whispered. “You died.”

“You didn’t pull the trigger.” Starsky tugged on their joined hands. “It wasn’t your fault. It isn’t some sort of punishment some God I’m pretty sure you don’t really believe in any more decided to give you because you love me or because you’re gay.” He moved his other hand, rested it against Hutch’s cheek. “Please. Believe me.”

Hutch sat, stiff, upright, tense on the edge of the cot, his eyes dark pools in the dim light.

“Come here.” Starsky patted the bed. “Come to me. Love me.”

He held his breath unsure if Hutch would surrender and couldn’t help breaking out into a smile when Hutch sat on the edge of the bed.

“Here. I’m here.” Hutch whispered, his eyes still wet, his mouth tight.

“I am my beloved’s and my beloved is mine,” Starsky said. Words he’d heard at countless relatives’ weddings and never realized how much they meant until this moment in time. He heard Hutch’s deep intake of breath.

Starsky tugged on their hands. “You could kiss me this time, you know. I don’t always want have to start.”

Hutch took a deep breath, leaned down, and pressed his lips against Starsky’s.

Oh God, Starsky thought as he opened his mouth, let Hutch’s tongue war with his, as he breathed Hutch’s breath, oh God, please let this be forever.

“Why did you push me away?” Starsky said when Hutch lay beside him, ignored the cot. “We could have been having sex all this time.”

Starsky closed his eyes as Hutch pressed his lips against his forehead, pulled him closer into the circle of his arms.

“I didn’t want to lose you. I don’t know. Only that everyone I’ve ever truly loved left me. I guess I couldn’t take being hurt again especially by the person who meant the most to me. After John, I didn’t think you…well you know.”

Starsky remembered his words all too well and knew now how they must have come across to Hutch who was already struggling.

“We’ve been a couple of idiots,” Starsky said. “And now…” He hesitated, not sure if he should share his niggling fear. No, he decided, there had been too many secrets, too little honesty over the past year and a half. “Now it might be too late.”

“Too late?” Hutch’s hold on him stiffened and Starsky realized just what was probably going on in his partner’s mind.

“Not you. I want you. I love you, I want you more than…well…I don’t know what, but I want you. But you…I’m not the man I was, my dick isn’t working. Might not work,” Starsky said. It was one of the fears that made him wake up in the middle of the night.

“Do you think I care about that?” Hutch asked. “Do you think that’s all that matter to me when you died and came back? And people have babies even when they have all sorts of disabilities.”

“I don’t wanna get pregnant,” Starsky said and was relieved to hear a small laugh in return.

“We’ll figure it out,” Hutch said. “And doesn’t your mom say you shouldn’t borrow trouble?”

“We wasted a lot of time.”

“We still have plenty more. More than we had before.”

Hutch leaned close–their foreheads touched. “Get some sleep, Starsky.”

“Don’t let go,” Starsky told him and squeezed his hand.

“I won’t.”

Starsky could feel his mind already start to drift, but Hutch was there so it would all be okay.

“Hutch?”

“Hmm?”

“You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

“Me too, Starsk. Me too.”

 

EPILOGUE

**We’re on a road that has no end, And each day we begin again**

 

Starsky smiled as he heard Hutch slam his car door. He waited in the living room — ready to share the good news the doctors had given him earlier in the day.

Hutch came in the door of the house they now shared and grinned at Starsky as he kicked off his shoes. “Hey, babe.”

“Hutch,” Starsky said. He got to his feet, adjusted his crutches and went over to him to give him a welcome home kiss.

Something smells good,” Hutch murmured into Starsky’s neck as he nuzzled him and planted a few kisses on his nape.

“I baked,” Starsky told him. “Christmas cookies — gingerbread and that sugar cookie recipe your mom sent me.”

“You smell like vanilla and cinnamon.” Hutch straightened and looked into Starsky’s eyes.

Starsky felt his heart speed up the slightest bit at the warmth in Hutch’s gaze. He lifted one hand to trace his fingers over Hutch’s mouth. God, he loved him so much.

“How’d the doctor’s appointment go?” Hutch asked. He actually hung up his jacket– a habit he’d acquired after Starsky had caught a crutch on it one time and taken a fall.

Starsky smiled again. He couldn’t stop smiling. “Why don’t you come with me and I’ll tell you?”

“Come with you?”

“To the bedroom.” Starsky tilted his head in that direction.

“Really?”

To Starsky, Hutch sounded like a kid who’d just found out Santa had brought him everything on his Christmas list.

“Really.”

Starsky made his way to the bedroom where he’d already turned back the sheets and had lube on both night tables. He’d even made Huggy stop for flowers on their way home and a rose lay on Hutch’s pillow.

“Oh,” Hutch said as he came in.

“You gonna get undressed?” Starsky asked. He’d taken off his robe as soon as he sat down.

Hutch stood, mouth hanging open for just a moment. “Yeah. Yeah.”

“You could give me a little strip tease,” Starsky said as he lay back on the pillows and stroked himself.

“You had a head start.”

Starsky snorted in laughter at the comment. “I guess you could say that.” He watched Hutch who wasn’t wasting any time on getting undressed. Maybe, Starsky mused, a strip tease would have to wait for another time.

And then Hutch was in bed beside him, his skin warm and smooth and so very Hutch. Hutch bent his head and traced a trail of kisses along the patchwork scars on Starsky’s chest and abdomen.

Starsky reached out, buried his fingers in the silk fine strands of blond hair. “Oh God.”

Hutch grinned against his belly, blew across heated skin, and Starsky felt the rise of goosebumps there and up through through his body.

They’d done their share of blow jobs and hand jobs since Starsky’s release from the rehab center. But this, this was different. Starsky knew it. This was commitment on a level beyond. This was what he’d dreamed of, what he’d fantasized of on those dark days when he thought Hutch could never, would never be his, when he’d never allowed himself to think that Hutch would love him back the way he so desperately needed him to. He squirmed under the attentions of Hutch’s very agile tongue and then the feel of Hutch’s strong, broad fingers on his cock, slick with lube.

Hutch knelt before him, eyes wide and pupils dilated, those long, strong thighs tight against Starsky’s flank. “Ride.”

That was his Hutch — the man who could pontificate for hours on injustices but was reduced to words of one syllable when it came to sex.

Starsky rested his hands on Hutch’s hips, guided him closer until Hutch was positioned just so. Hutch lowered himself slowly, and Starsky grunted with the effort of holding back, of not thrusting himself upwards just yet.

He kept his eyes open, watched the play of emotion on Hutch’s face, concentration, a flash of pain, and then joy, happiness, wonder — all of it reflected in eyes blue as the sky.

Starsky felt tears come to his eyes at his own joy and then they were moving together — moving in sync the way they had over countless days and nights of working together — you go high, I go low, you go right, I go left, you got my back, I got yours. Starsky let out a long, primal yell of release and ecstasy as he came inside Hutch and he heard Hutch’s echoing voice.

And then Hutch was boneless beside him and their limbs were tangled and Starsky couldn’t tell where he ended and where Hutch started. It didn’t matter. They were together the way they’d always been meant to be, and if, when they kissed slowly and softly now, the tears tasted of salt and bliss, it was just as it should be. He was Hutch’s, Hutch was his — the whole universe coalesced in a small house in Bay City, California, United States of America, Earth.