Archive of Our Own

Starsky hung up the phone with a sigh. “She still wants us to fly in the weekend before Thanksgiving,” he said, as though he’d just scheduled a dental appointment rather than a visit with his mother.

Hutch had just come in from a long run, and he washed his face over the kitchen sink and wiped it with a piece of paper towel before answering. “You want to go, don’t you?”

“Ye—eah,” Starsky drew out the word with uncertainty.

Hutch came to stand in front of his partner where he sat on Hutch’s couch, a cup of coffee in his left hand.  “Starsk,” he said in his ‘give me the information’ tone.

Starsky sighed, trying not to let his eyes linger on Hutch. He knew better than anybody how tough his partner was, so why did he suddenly feel a particularly strong need to protect his feelings? Yet, he couldn’t lie, only down-play it a little.

“It’s like now that we’re outta her sight, she’s having second thoughts about our relationship. I mean, she was really coming around when we were there, right? But now she’s bringing up grandchildren again, and to top it all off, Nick’s broken up with his girlfriend.”

Hutch took a seat in the chair opposite, rubbing the sweat off his neck with the paper towel he still held in his hand. “Oh, that’s too bad. She seemed like a nice girl and probably a good influence on your brother.”

 “He’s lost his job. Of course.”

Hutch sighed. “Well, we knew that would happen. Starsk—we can’t expect your mother to adjust to our relationship so quickly. She needs time, that’s all. She’s spent all the years since you were born with a plan for your life, and this must’ve hit her hard.”

“Do you have to be so damn understanding?” Starsky asked, irritated, and Hutch laughed.

“Would you rather I get angry and cuss your mother?” He gave Starsky a gentle smack on the head. “I’m going to go take a shower. What time do you meet with the guy Huggy’s sending to the house?”

After only a few days of looking, they’d found the house they wanted. Owned by an older couple who had moved to Arizona for their health, it sat empty. The couple had sold it to them outright, and their lawyers were drawing up the paperwork. Huggy knew a guy who knew a guy who planned to help patch up a few things up.

“Five o’clock. His name’s Tom Hawkins. Sure you can’t come?” 

“I’ll try,” Hutch told him and headed for the bathroom, maneuvering around the boxes of Starsky’s things piled here and there. Most of his furniture had been stored in the room off the Dobey’s garage until they could get them, but there were a lot of boxes that had ended up in Hutch’s living room. Although both their ex-captain and Huggy knew about Starsky and Hutch’s plans to get a house together, neither had been told the exact reasons why as of yet.

With Starsky’s encouragement, Hutch had decided to study for the GRE so he could take graduate classes at the local university after Christmas. Exactly what classes he would take, he wasn’t sure yet. He still couldn’t believe that they’d been lucky enough to find the little rambler in the woods—Hutch loved it, and Starsky loved that Hutch loved it. Starsky was eager to repair the deck, patch up the roof and do a hundred other odd jobs. Hutch wanted to help, but the date for the GRE was fast approaching, and he had to be ready.

As Hutch stripped off his sweaty clothes and climbed into the shower, he reflected on how quickly things were coming together. In the week they’d been home from his sister’s, they’d managed to empty Starsky’s apartment, find a house, and make a decision about Hutch’s future. As for Starsky, he still wasn’t sure as to what exactly he wanted to do. Hutch kept encouraging him to go to college, but Starsky insisted he wasn’t cut out for academics.

After he was freshly showered and dressed, Hutch suggested they get a bite to eat before he headed to the library and Starsky went to meet Tom at their new house. More out of habit than anything else, they drove to Huggy’s place. As they walked down the sidewalk, a particularly pretty woman passed by, causing Starsky to spin all the way around with an admiring grin until he was walking backward down the street. Hutch barely saved him from running into a telephone pole.

“Watch it, meathead,” he admonished, yanking Starsky around by the collar of his jacket to face front again. “And stick those eyes back in their sockets.”

“Looking never hurt anybody,” Starsky replied, and Hutch shook his head with a smile. As they jogged down the steps to the door to The Pits, Starsky said, “Hey, how come that doesn’t make you jealous, huh? Aren’t you afraid I might leave you for a pretty girl?”

Hutch held the door open for Starsky. “Nope.”

“How come?”

“You want me to be jealous?”

Starsky grinned. “Might be nice, yeah.”

Hutch gently shoved the back of Starsky’s head forward, giving his hair a tussle before removing his hand.

“Hey, Huggy!” he greeted their friend when the skinny dark-skinned man appeared from around the bar.

“What it is!” Huggy said with a smile. “If it ain’t my two favorite ex-detectives. What brings your illustrious backsides to grace my barstools this fine afternoon?”

“Two Huggy Specials, if you please,” Starsky replied, taking a seat at the bar. “What will you have, Hutch?”

Hutch gave him a look. “You eat two of Huggy’s specials, and I know what you’ll have—gas!”

“Hey, hey!” Huggy raised a finger. “Keep down the negativity about my cuisine, would you? You’ll ruin my business.”

“I’ll have a salad, Hug,” Hutch told him, reaching across Starsky for a napkin to wipe up the condensation on the bar. “And Starsk here will have one special. And bring us each some water, please.”

Starsky wrinkled his nose. “So that’s how it’s gonna be, huh? You deciding what I eat and drink?”

“I’m taking care of you, Starsk. It’s nothing new—not since you were in the hospital, anyway.” Frown lines appeared between Hutch’s eyes, and Starsky immediately backed off his teasing. He knew that, whereas he had come to terms with things since Gunther’s hit, Hutch still had his demons to fight.

When Huggy returned with their drinks, he asked, “So, Starsky, have you gotten in touch with Leo’s friend Tom yet?”

Starsky put his elbow on the bar and rested his chin on his hand. “Yep. He’s meeting me at the house in about an hour. Gonna help me get started on some stuff.”

Huggy nodded his head. “And when do I get to see your new digs?”

“We’ll have some kind of get-together after we’re all moved in,” Hutch answered, taking a long drink of water and thinking that perhaps that’s when they’d break the news of their relationship to those friends closest to them.

“Dave! Is that you?” a stunning red-head approached the bar just as Starsky swung around on his stool. Before he knew what was happening, the woman had laid a wet kiss on his mouth. Hutch and Huggy exchanged bemused looks.

“Uh…Hillary?” Starsky said hoarsely. Hutch could see the uncertainty on his partner’s face; it was obvious to him that Starsky wasn’t at all sure he’d gotten the name right.

The woman smiled, indicating that he had. “Where have you been hiding yourself, Dave? I’ve been hoping to hear from you for a long time.”

“It has been a while,” Starsky agreed. He cleared his throat. “Actually, I was wounded in the line of duty, and it took months for me to get back on my feet again.”

Hillary kept her arm possessively around Starsky’s shoulders, and Hutch couldn’t help but be amused by Starsky’s discomfort. She squeezed him. “That’s terrible! I’m so glad you’re all right. We really need to get together soon,” she purred.

“Well, I’m in the middle of a move right now…” He looked to Hutch for help, but his partner only shrugged helplessly.

“You’re moving out of your apartment?” Hillary asked, surprised.

“These gentlemen are conserving funds by buying a house together,” Huggy inserted himself into the conversation by explaining with a flirtatious smile. “Hutch here just told me that they will have a big housewarming party when they’re settled. I’m sure Starsky will include you on the guest list.” He winked at Starsky. “And perhaps a few of your lovely lady friends can accompany you.”

Hillary’s face lit up. “Oh, yes! Definitely!” She turned to Hutch. “Ken, isn’t it? You shaved your mustache—I hardly recognized you. My friend Cecelia loves blond men. I’ll bring her with me!” She turned to Huggy. “And I know several girls who would just eat you up, Huggy!”

Hutch gave Hillary his most charming smile, while inwardly cursing Huggy and his obvious plot to get himself laid at their ‘party.’

When Hillary left, Starsky gave Hutch a look that could only be interpreted as Now what’re we gonna do, Blondie? Hutch raised his brows, and Huggy turned to grab their meals out of the window to the kitchen.

“Shit,” Starsky muttered. “Huggy’s got us having a party.”

“Maybe he’ll forget about it,” Hutch whispered.

After they’d eaten, Starsky dropped Hutch at the library.

“I’ll take a cab home,” Hutch told him, leaning in the window and giving his partner’s arm a squeeze. He walked into the air conditioned library and set about finding the section of books he was looking for. Soon he was lost in a mountain of texts, everything around him seeming to fade into a dull buzz as he went over subjects he hadn’t given a thought to in years.  The next thing he knew, his back was hurting from bending over the books, his eyes were tired from reading, and the library was slowly emptying.

“Shit,” he muttered, looking at his watch. He hurriedly got his notes together and went outside. He’d stayed much longer than he’d planned--he hoped Starsky wasn’t worried about him. Hutch looked about for a cab, and when he didn’t see one, he started walking. It took him ages to get home, each and every cab that passed by already had a passenger in it, and by the time he turned onto his street, it had started to drizzle. Wearily, he climbed the steps to his apartment. Starsky immediately met him at the door, pulling him inside.

“I was just about to go looking for you!” he said, his mouth so close to Hutch’s face that Hutch could smell the beer on his breath. “We worked until dark on the deck, and I expected you to be here by the time I got back. The library closed two hours ago!”

“I lost track of time,” Hutch said, peeling his wet shirt over his head and using it to mop the water out of his hair. “Then I couldn’t catch a cab, so I walked.”

Starsky went into the bathroom, returning with a towel. “Shit. That’s some walk. Wish I’d known-- I wouldn’t have sat down to have a beer with Tom before we left, and I could’ve given you a lift home.”

“Nice guy?” Hutch inquired, dropping his shirt on the floor and running the towel over his arms and torso.

“Yeah, he’s great. We made real headway on the deck. We’ll probably finish it up this week.”

Hutch unzipped his pants and stepped out of them. “I spent so much time studying today, I can skip the library and help you two tomorrow.” He tossed his pants and shirt toward the laundry closet. “Man, I’m beat.” He practically staggered toward the bedroom, flopping down on the bed with a jolt of the springs.

Hutch couldn’t get over how much he loved their new house. Everything felt so right when he was there with his partner—as though the place was made for the two of them. The debate continued on what to do about the second bedroom, although Hutch was losing fast. He thought they should set it up to appear that the two rooms belonged to each of them, even though they actually shared the bigger of the two. That way, when people who didn’t know the nature of their relationship came over, they would appear to just be sharing the house.

Starsky balked at that, claiming that if this was to be their home, it was their business how it was set up. Why waste a perfectly good room on a ruse to placate homophobic people they didn’t even care about?

Hutch agreed, in theory; however, he continued to weakly argue with him over it because of that ever-present fear that coiled in his gut like a snake ready to strike--the fear of rejection. He was ashamed of feeling that way and wished he could be as openly bold as his partner, but the thought of people judging them for their sex life frankly scared the shit out of him.

Starsky insisted on a workout room, with a double bed and night stand for the occasional guest. They were getting rid of both of their old couches and buying a sleeper sofa for the living room in case they needed another bed. Hutch had already resigned himself to caving in; it was just a matter of when.

The hot sun beat down on them as the three men worked on the deck that jutted out from the back of the house, just a few feet off the ground. Tom was as nice a guy as Starsky had said, and Hutch immediately liked him. He was extremely good with his hands, having worked with his father building houses for years. Barely thirty, he was broad shouldered and muscular, with dark hair and a closely trimmed beard and mustache. As large as he was, Hutch marveled at the lithe way he moved across the deck on his knees, welding the hammer with ease while Hutch’s back had begun screaming at the exertion hours ago. This was only the second time in a week he’d been there to help, having spent most of his time studying or packing up his apartment. The paperwork on the sale had gone through, and they could move in as soon as the house was ready. The deck had taken a bit more work than originally planned, and Starsky and Tom had spent long hours on it, replacing wood that had rotted and re-enforcing wood that hadn’t.

Hutch was adept at hiding his discomfort, and he kept his face carefully blank as he held a piece of the deck that was still intact while Starsky removed the old rusty nails and replaced them with new ones.

Tom regaled them with funny stories about his time spent bartending in college, keeping Starsky in stitches. Hutch smiled, listening with only one ear as he struggled to maintain a façade of ease. His lower back protested every move he made, no matter how small. He knew his partner would be furious with him for continuing to work way past the time he knew he should quit, but he hated feeling useless, particularly when it came to this house that meant so much to him. As Starsky pounded the nails in, Hutch distracted himself by thinking about all the reasons he loved it. It was nestled in the woods, its lines clean and simple; it had hard wood floors, and the walls were a fresh white; there was a large window in the living room where he could watch the birds in the numerous trees that surrounded them; they didn’t have any neighbors to speak of; and perhaps best of all, there was a separate, one-car garage to shelter Starsky’s beloved Torino.

After the hit, the precinct had taken up money and had the red and white car returned to its former glory—even better, really. Hutch would never forget the tears in his partner’s eyes when he left the hospital and saw it sleek and shining in the parking lot.

He knew Starsky didn’t care one way or another about these features of the house (except maybe the garage)--give him a pizza shop and ice cream parlor within driving distance, and he was happy. But Hutch could see the pride his partner took in fixing it up for the two of them, and how he seemed to be more and more filled with a sense of ownership as each day passed.

Starsky had insisted on putting his full savings into the house so that he would feel that he truly owned part of it himself, and Hutch hadn’t argued. He understood completely; even though his inheritance meant next to nothing to him other than the means to allow him and his partner to build a life together, he knew that should the situation be reversed, he would feel the same as Starsky did.

A particularly sharp pain shot up his spine and Hutch couldn’t help but wince, but he tried to make it look like the wood beneath his hands had pierced his skin.

“Maybe you should put some gloves on,” Starsky suggested, sweat dripping down his face as he reached for a new nail.

“I’ve got a pair in the truck,” Tom offered from across the deck where he was testing the strength of the railings. “On second thought,” he said, looking around, “let me take over. We’re about done here, anyway.”

Hutch gratefully moved aside, allowing Tom to take his place holding the heavy piece of wood. It only took a few more hits of the hammer, and Starsky had driven the final nails into place.

All three men stretched and looked around, Hutch careful with his movements as his lower back and the tired muscles in his legs protested loudly. Starsky had become accustomed to the unfamiliar exercise and seemed unaffected, while Hutch could barely hide the stagger he made as he straightened up and stood erect.

“Should we start on the roof today, or wait until tomorrow?” Tom asked, wiping his brow with the sleeve of his shirt.

Starsky glanced at Hutch. “We’re eager to move in, but we don’t want to work you too hard,” he answered uncertainly.

“I’m used to it,” Tom said with a shrug. “If you want to put in a couple hours up there, I’m game.”

Starsky grinned. “I’ll get us all some ice water.” He went through the back door into the house.

“It looks great, Tom,” Hutch told him. “We can’t thank you enough.”

“Well, it isn’t like you aren’t paying me for it,” Tom grinned, giving Hutch a slap on the back that brought white hot pain and a sharp gasp.

“What’s wrong?” Tom asked, instantly concerned.

“Nothing—my back…” Hutch took a deep breath and let it out. “It gives me trouble now and then, that’s all.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, man!” Tom said, leaning down and packing his tools away. As Hutch watched the play of muscles down the young man’s arms, he suddenly felt old.

 “It’s okay—you didn’t know. Just don’t mention it to Starsky. He’s such a mother hen about it. I’m fine, really.”

Tom nodded as Starsky came back out juggling three plastic cups. They all eagerly drank down the cool liquid before descending the three steps of the deck to the yard. As Hutch followed them around the house, he told himself that there was no possible way he could climb a ladder and get up on the roof. Not this afternoon---not the way his back hurt like the devil. But as he watched Tom grab the ladder and deftly climb, Starsky right behind him, his pride overcame his common sense and wouldn’t allow him to back down. Taking a breath, he started the ascent.

When Starsky reached the roof and surveyed the land around him—a decent amount of yard with acres of trees surrounding it—happiness swelled within his chest. He just felt so damn good. After the hurt and fear of the shooting and long months of painful rehabilitation, he was in excellent shape again. He was deeply in love, and he was standing on the roof of a house he owned with his best friend in the world. He took in a huge lungful of air, letting it out slowly, enjoying the singular blissful moment, wanting to draw it out forever. Seconds later it shattered as Hutch made a noise Starsky didn’t think he’d ever heard his partner make before. Alarmed, he turned carefully to look.

Hutch sprawled onto the hot shingles, his body rigid with pain. Tom knelt beside him. Starsky immediately moved forward, clumsy in his eagerness to get to his partner.

“Hutch?” Reaching his side, Starsky placed a hand on Hutch’s stomach, feeling the muscles taut with pain underneath his palm. Heat emanated off the roof in a smothering blanket, and Starsky tasted his own sweat as it trickled down his face and into his mouth. “Buddy? What’s wrong?”

“M-my—“Hutch tensed with a crest of pain, clamping his eyes and lips shut.

“I think it’s his back,” Tom told Starsky. “He said it was hurting a few minutes ago.”

“What the—“ Starsky bit back the sharp words. “Hutch—why did you climb up here, for God’s sake, if your back was hurting?” He looked at Tom. “We gotta get him down.” He moved away and began to carefully back down the ladder.

“Oh, God—“ Hutch moaned as Tom tried to help him up, precariously standing on the slanted roof and putting his hands under Hutch’s arms. Gradually, he was able to lift him to his knees and position him to climb down in front of Starsky. Hutch froze on the first rung, taking deep, uneven breaths of air. “Oh, shit,” Starsky heard him bite out before lowering himself down another rung, trying to keep his back as straight as possible.

“That’s it, you can do it,” Starsky encouraged, tamping down his worry and irritation at Hutch’s carelessness and concentrating on the task at hand. “We’ll get you where you can lie down flat,” he told him, clutching the ladder with one hand while steadying his partner with the other. The almost-sob that came out of Hutch next made Starsky wish he could magically transport him the rest of the way, but they had to take it one torturous step at a time. Tom stayed on the roof, holding the ladder steady as they went.

Once his feet hit the grass, Starsky helped Hutch the rest of the way down and eased him carefully to the ground where he lay panting in obvious agony.

“Maybe you should drive him to the emergency room,” Tom suggested.

“No,” Hutch groaned. “I’ll be all right. Just give me a minute.” He’d slung his arm over his eyes to block out the lowering sun, and Starsky watched Hutch’s stomach rise and fall as he fought through the pain.

“Stubborn ass,” Starsky muttered, shaking his head worriedly. He wanted to tell Hutch that he was going to the hospital no matter what, but he knew it was better to go along with him for the time being.

“We could get a board…” Tom suggested. “Carry him to the back of my truck on it.”

“There’s no way we’d ever get him up the steps to his apartment,” Starsky answered. He pressed his lips together, thinking.

“We’ll just stay here tonight. I could go back and get a few things.”

“I’ll stay with him while you do,” Tom offered. “Just let me go get a board so we can take him inside.”

Hutch would be embarrassed at all the fuss that occurred over the next half hour if it weren’t for the fact that he hurt so damn much. Getting him onto the board was excruciatingly painful-to the point that he almost blacked out. Starsky talked to him the whole time, keeping him grounded, and Hutch clung to his voice like a life preserver in an ocean of pain. He knew his partner was angry and holding back, and that eventually Hutch would hear about it.

They set him in the living room, and Starsky immediately left for the apartment, returning almost an hour later with supplies, at which point Tom took his leave, promising to come back the next day and help with the roof.

“You’ve really done it this time, Blondie, ya know that?” Starsky asked as he pulled off Hutch’s shoes and loosened his belt in an attempt to make him more comfortable. He took out a bottle of water and some aspirin. “Any better?”

“A little,” Hutch lied.

“Glad we had the water and electricity turned on last week,” Starsky said, disappearing into the bathroom and returning with a wet cloth which he used to dampen Hutch’s face.

“Feels good…thanks,” Hutch murmured. “Sorry about this.”

“Wish you’d been more careful,” Starsky said, helping him to take the aspirin and chase it with water. “I hate seeing you in this much pain.” He frowned, the muscles in his jaw tightening. “What the hell were you thinking, Hutch? God, you coulda fallen off the roof!”

Hutch tried to shift on the board and let out a cry as a spasm took hold of his lower back. He tried to think of an excuse for his behavior—one that didn’t make him sound like a child—but he couldn’t.

“Be still,” Starsky admonished him. He unbuttoned Hutch’s shirt and wiped down his chest, the cool air refreshing as it hit his damp skin.

The sun had begun to set outside the curtainless window, and Hutch turned his head to watch the sky darken over the tree tops.

Starsky sighed, his previous anger gone. “Hutch,” he said softly, “why did you overdo it so much today? And then get on the roof, for Christ’s sake?”

Hutch aborted his shrug before it could reach his back. “I just felt like I haven’t been doing my share.” He didn’t take his eyes off the darkness outside, not wanting to see Starsky’s face.

“That’s silly—we’ve got Tom helping.”

That was part of the problem, but Hutch didn’t know how to put it into words. Having the younger man there, so fit and able, only made Hutch feel more useless. And what he knew Starsky really wouldn’t understand was the way Hutch couldn’t help the twinge of jealousy that seized him every time he saw his partner and the handsome carpenter working side by side. Why he wasn’t bothered by flirting women all over Starsky, but instead chose to balk at a more-than-likely straight man acting perfectly normal was beyond his powers of self-analysis. He squeezed his eyes shut, wishing he’d just ignored his pride. It would have saved him from lying there feeling like a cripple while Starsky had to wait on him hand and foot.

Starsky didn’t press him. “I called Huggy and asked if he could help move us tomorrow. Might as well get our stuff over here. I’ll call the phone company in the morning to hook us up.” Hutch turned his head to find Starsky staring intently.

“Now I won’t be able to help us move,” he said sourly, and Starsky grinned.

“Sure you didn’t do it on purpose?”

Hutch couldn’t help the scowl that crept over his face. “Sure, I really enjoy feeling completely useless, Starsky.”

Starsky sobered. “You aren’t useless, you big dummy.” He looked around. “Now, what’re we gonna do about sleeping arrangements, huh? I brought some pillows and blankets. Are you gonna want to sleep on that board all night?”

“Probably,” Hutch muttered. “It helps.”

“You know if you aren’t better tomorrow, I’m gonna take you to the hospital, right?”

Hutch sighed. “Yeah.”

Starsky patted him on the arm. “I’ll go make us something to eat. I brought some groceries.”

He got up and walked into the kitchen.

Hutch lay on the floor listening to the hollow sounds of Starsky moving around in the empty house, feeling like a stupid ass. After several moments of self-flagellation, he heard Starsky begin to sing. Hutch couldn’t help but smile as his partner’s slightly off-key voice slaughtered the words to the song.   By the time Starsky returned with some sandwiches and bottles of water, Hutch felt marginally better and had become intimately familiar with the ceiling pattern.

“Unfair to torture a man who can’t move,” he told Starsky. “And as soon as I can move, I’m buying you the lyrics to that song.”

Starsky barked a laugh and settled cross-legged beside Hutch, handing him a sandwich. “Don’t choke on it.” He took a bite of his own. “Anything else you wanna complain about?”

Hutch tore off a piece of sandwich and popped it in his mouth. “Yeah. The ceiling needs painting.”

“Well, you ain’t climbing up there to paint it, so you can forget that right now,” Starsky told him around another bite of sandwich.

Silence spread over them like a blanket as they continued to eat. “I need to call Andi as soon as we get the phone working,” Hutch said after a while. “I don’t want to fall back into the habit of never talking.”

Starsky nodded in agreement. “So…Tom and I will finish the roof tomorrow and Huggy’s gonna help us get moved in.” He brushed the crumbs off his hands and legs before leaning forward, his face inches from Hutch’s. “Then it’s just you and me, Blondie. Forever-- here in our love nest.” His smiled sexily as he leaned in and brushed his lips over Hutch’s. Hutch grunted and made to grab Starsky’s shirt, but his partner moved out of reach.

“Hey,” come back here,” Hutch protested loudly when Starsky moved away. “It’s not fair that I can’t do anything but lie here like a beached whale.”

Starsky chuckled and gathered up their trash. “The last thing you need is to get us all hot and bothered when you can’t follow through.”

Hutch knew he was right, but hell—they hadn’t had sex in a week, at least. He groaned and reached down to rub at his hardening groin.

Once Starsky had everything cleaned up, he made himself a bed out of quilts and then helped Hutch to ease out of his pants before covering him up and turning out the lamp.

“You gonna be able to sleep like that?” Starsky asked, snuggling as close to the board and his partner as he could.

“I think so,” Hutch said. “Goodnight kiss?”

Starsky smiled and moved closer, pressing his lips to Hutch’s, nibbling a little on them before pulling back and settling on his pillow. Hutch groaned in frustration, and Starsky laughed. “I’d jerk you off, but I think even that would hurt your back.”

“I know; you’re right. But that doesn’t mean I don’t wish I could nail you to the floor right now,” Hutch growled. Starsky shivered, getting a visual that went straight to his dick. Reaching down he slid his hand into his underwear and gave it a stroke, a small moan escaping his lips.

Hutch smiled slyly in the darkness, reaching down inside his shorts. “Yeah, I’d turn you over and hoist that ass up in the air…rub my cock into that sweet crack until you beg for it, Starsk.”

Starsky’s breathing picked up. Hutch could see him by the light of the moon outside the window, his hand moving rhythmically beneath the quilt. Hutch was hard himself, and he moved his own hand to touch his erection as he continued to torment Starsky in a low, soft tone.

“And then, when you couldn’t stand it anymore, I’d slip inside you. You’d be so hot in there…so tight, and you’d wiggle your ass, hiking it higher like you do when you want more—and I’d give it to you…long and hard.”

“Oh, shit…” Starsky groaned, his breathing louder in the silent room.

“And I’d reach around and hold that big dick of yours in my hand… cup your soft nuts in my palm…”

“Christ!”

“Swipe my thumb over the head while still pounding inside of you until I just can’t hold… back any longer…”

Hutch breathed almost as frantically as Starsky and stuttered on the next words. “And then I’d …s-shoot…my load up inside your ass s-so far….” He gasped, his back protesting the movement as he pulled upward and came all over his stomach in long spurts. Starsky let out a strained roar beside him, his body jerking off the floor.

“Holy fuck…”

Moments later, their breathing back to normal, Starsky hoisted himself up and went to the kitchen for some wet paper towels.

“I suppose you’re proud of yourself,” he said when he’d mopped up both of them.

Hutch chuckled low in his throat. “A little.”

Starsky leaned down and gave him a deep kiss, rubbing their noses together before settling back into his quilts. “Night, baby,” he said on a sigh.

The following day, Huggy showed up bright and early with breakfast, a truck, and several friends. Starsky went outside while Huggy ate his biscuit with Hutch, who was happy to find himself able to sit up and prop against the wall.

“Really did a number on that back, I hear,” Huggy said, eyeing him accusingly.

“Overdid it, I know,” Hutch replied.

“Well, luckily I brought something to help you out,” Huggy told him. He pulled a wide, black contraption out of a bag.

“What’s that?” Hutch asked a little suspiciously.

“It’s a back brace,” Huggy got up from the floor. “Do you think you can stand?”

Hutch did, with Huggy’s support, and the skinny man went about strapping the device around Hutch’s middle. “This keeps your back straight.”

Hutch immediately felt the difference. The support of the brace allowed him to relax a little bit. “You’re a genius, Hug. If you weren’t so ugly, I’d kiss you.”

“Save that for the ladies, my man. Glad to be of service. Now I’m gonna get out there so we can go move you guys in one trip. We’ll go by Dobey’s after we hit your apartment.”

Hutch looked into his friend’s eyes. “You’re a really good friend, you know that, Hug? Starsk and I owe you.”

“It’s not like you haven’t done your fair share for me, my brother.” Huggy gave Hutch’s shoulder a squeeze before disappearing outside.

Hutch felt pretty useless all day, unable to do anything but let the phone man in and then direct the movers as to where the furniture should go. The back brace enabled him to stand for longer periods of time, though, so he couldn’t complain too much. When it came time to put furniture into the bedrooms, and the majority of it went into the larger room, Hutch felt Huggy’s eyes heavy upon him, and Hutch knew their friend had put two and two together. Hutch avoided his gaze, waiting for a more private moment.

It came when everything was inside and Huggy’s pals had gone home. Starsky and Tom were on the roof pounding away at the shingles, the loud bangs shaking the house. Hutch and Huggy sat on the sofa in the living room, each with a beer in hand.

“Spill, Hutch,” Huggy said succinctly, and Hutch raised his eyes to meet his friend’s.

“We’ve been waiting for the right time,” Hutch replied, wishing Starsky was present. “We went to see our families and now we want to tell our friends.”

Huggy waited, his face unreadable.

“We’re together now, Hug. Me and Starsk—we didn’t plan it this way, but it happened. After Starsky got out of the hospital, he—we—“ Hutch cleared his throat. “Hell, I guess it had been coming on for a long time, but neither of us recognized it.”

Huggy took a long drink of beer, the only sound in the room the banging noises above them.

“I wish you’d say something. Out of everyone we know, Starsk and I really hope you and Dobey will remain our friends.”

Huggy looked at him levelly. “Don’t tell me you thought I’d drop my best friends just because they decided they liked doing the naked pretzel with each other,” he scoffed.

Hutch let out a breath. “No…we were pretty sure you wouldn’t. But some people have a big problem with this, and it has to be a shock.”

“It is…and it isn’t,” Huggy replied. “You two are closer than any two dudes I know. You say you’ve been like this since the hit, but I haven’t seen any change in the way you two operate around one other. You’ve always touched a lot and been close. You could tell me you’d been doin’ it all these years, and it wouldn’t come as much of a surprise.” Huggy looked down at his bottle. “On the other hand, after seeing the two of you with lady after lady…I really thought neither of you would ever swing this way, and the fact that you were moving in together seemed just like a cheaper way to live. The two of you have always been joined at the hip.” Huggy blushed a little at the visual that made, and Hutch laughed.

“I’m relieved, Hug,” he said. “I wouldn’t want to lose you as a friend.”

“Never, my man. We’ve come through too much, the three of us. Uh…perhaps you would be kind enough to turn over your little black books to Huggy Bear, who is in dire need of companionship these days? Seeing as you won’t be needing them anymore.”

“We’ll see what we can do,” Hutch grinned.

At dark, Starsky and Tom climbed down from the roof. Hutch could hear them joking outside as he finished putting dishes in the kitchen cabinets. Again, he felt that twinge of jealously come out of nowhere. Moving toward the front of the house, he paused by the window and looked out. He could plainly see Starsky standing next to Tom, his body incredibly sexy in the old jeans and white tank top. The other man was very attractive, too, Hutch noted, although he had to pull his eyes from his lover in order to make that assessment. He had a brief flash of what the two of them would look like in bed together, and hot, fierce jealousy gripped him in the gut. His hand digging into the frame of the window, he watched as Tom touched Starsky on his tanned bicep before walking toward his car with his tool box. Starsky turned for the house, a grin still on his face.

Hutch quickly moved away from the window, paying for his haste with a sharp stab in his back. Starsky came in the front door and shut and locked it.

“Well, here we are, Blondie—home sweet home.”

Hutch put a smile on his face, although his stomach was churning. He told himself he was being silly, but he couldn’t help what he felt. Starsky immediately headed for the shower, and Hutch carefully lowered himself to the couch.

Starsky and Tom had spent the better part of two weeks together. On the whole, they’d spent more time in one another’s company than Hutch and Starsky had. Hutch had either been studying or nursing a bad back. Hutch leaned his head on the cushion behind him, trying not to let his mind go there. Trying not to picture Tom and Starsky alone together in this empty house. What the fuck was he thinking, anyway? That Starsky would actually cheat on him? With another man? And who was to say that Tom would even be interested in being with a man? He forced a puff of air from between his lips.

The phone on the table beside him jangled, startling him out of his thoughts. He reached back and picked up the receiver.

“Hello?”

“Is this Ken? This is Dave’s mother. Is he there?”

Bea’s voice was decidedly colder than the last time Hutch had spoken with her.

“Hi, uh, he’s here but in the shower. Can I have him call you back?”

“Please. I’ll be waiting for his call.” She hung up without saying goodbye. Hutch replaced the phone and sat thinking until Starsky appeared in a pair of sweat pants, his hair damp from the shower.

“Your mom called,” Hutch told him. “She wants you to call her back. She said she’d be waiting for your call.”

Starsky nodded, but Hutch noted he avoided his eyes.

“Starsk? Is there something you aren’t telling me?”

“Like what?” Starsky asked casually.

“You’re mom sounded decidedly cool toward me.”

Starsky sighed heavily and sat down on the chair.  He shook his head. “It’s like she’s done an about face. As soon as we left her sight, she must’ve started talking herself out of accepting us as a couple.”

“Don’t worry about it so much,” Hutch told him softly. “She’ll come around eventually. Now call her, because she said she’d be waiting. I’ll go finish up some things in the kitchen and give you some privacy.”

“Don’t overdo it,” Starsky told him, watching Hutch carefully push himself up from the couch.

Hutch tried not to listen to the one-sided conversation from the other room as he continued filling the cabinets, but bits and pieces kept creeping in. It soon became painfully obvious that Mrs. Starsky wanted her son there for Thanksgiving but without his partner. While the rejection hurt, Hutch was determined not to let Starsky see that. He knew Starsky worried about Hutch’s feelings, and Hutch didn’t want his partner to feel guilty and torn between his family and his lover. They’d both known going in that this wasn’t going to be an easy road, and Hutch was determined to be an adult about it.

When Starsky appeared in the doorway, his face a mask, Hutch said lightly, “We couldn’t expect her to accept all this easily. Starsky, it’ll be fine for me to go to my sister’s for Thanksgiving while you go to your mom’s. Stop worrying.”

“So you heard,” Starsky said, hoisting himself up to sit on the counter.

“Yeah, that part, anyway.”

“I told her there was no way I was goin’ without you.”

Hutch sighed and came to stand in front of him, his hands on Starsky’s thighs. “Maybe it would be better to do it this way.” He looked into Starsky’s blue eyes, the sweep of dark lashes partially obscuring his partner’s expression. “You could talk to her. I can have a visit with Andi, and then I’ll fly to New York and spend a day there before we head back here.”

Starsky looked so unhappy at the prospect, Hutch’s stomach clenched. He squeezed Starsky’s knee. “It’s okay. Really.”

Starsky bowed his head. Leaning forward, he pressed his face to Hutch’s neck. “I love you. I want us to be together on our first Thanksgiving.”

Hutch put his palm on the back of Starsky’s neck. Kissing his head, he chuckled. “It’s not our first Thanksgiving, dummy. We’ve spent plenty of them together. Your mother’s getting older, and she needs you. We have plenty of holidays ahead of us.”

Starsky raised his head and looked into Hutch’s eyes before slowly nodding. “Okay. I’ll call her back and tell her. Better phone your sister first and make sure it’s okay.”

So it was that a week later Hutch hopped a plane to Georgia while Starsky boarded one to New York. Nick had called mid-week with the unexpected news that he’d met someone and planned to get married over the holidays. Unsure why his brother was moving so fast, Starsky told Hutch he would definitely find out what was going on during this visit. He knew little of this woman accept that she was a waitress in a diner and her name was Angel.

In Georgia, Andrea, Jim, and the boys greeted Hutch enthusiastically.

“I wish Dave could’ve come!” Andi said their first night together as they sat in the family room by the fire. The following day was Thanksgiving, and already wonderful smells filled the house. Andrea told Hutch she’d been making pies all day.

“He would’ve liked to,” Hutch assured her. “But his mother really wanted him there.”

“But I thought the two of you were going there and then coming by here,” Andrea said, her frank gaze pinned to her brother.

“That was the original plan,” Hutch admitted, looking into his wine glass. “But Mrs. Starsky’s having a tough time with the idea of the two of us together. She seemed pretty accepting when we were there before, but evidently she’s having second thoughts.”

Andrea put a hand on his knee. “She’ll come around. In the meantime, I’m really glad you’re here.”

Matt soon commandeered his attention, and Hutch went up to the boy’s room to hear the latest song he’d written. He really was quite talented, and Hutch listened proudly as his nephew played the guitar for him.

“How’s your boyfriend?” Hutch asked Matt as he watched him put his guitar in its case. “Have your parents met him yet?”

“Yeah,” Matt said, blushing a little. “It went pretty well. Better than I thought it would.”

“Good.” Hutch smiled, ruffling his hair. His nephew coming out to his family had been a frightening ordeal, Hutch knew.

That night, when he climbed into the bed that he’d shared with Starsky on their trip a few weeks ago, Hutch reached for the phone and dialed Bea Starsky’s number.

“Hello?” Bea’s voice was cheerful.

“Mrs. Starsky, hi, this is Ken. Is Dave around?”

“Oh. Ken. Yes, he’s right here.” Bea didn’t sound cold, but she didn’t sound particularly warm either. Rustling filled the line, and then Starsky’s voice came.

“Hutch?”

“Hey,” Hutch let out a breath. “I miss you.”

“Same here.”

“I’m in our bed at Andi’s. It’s lonely.”

Starsky chuckled low in his throat. “I’ll miss you tonight in the sofa bed,” he said.

“Oh, my God. We need to burn that thing and buy your mom a good one. How is she?”

“Same,” Starsky replied, Bea obviously nearby. “You still flying in Friday?”

“Yeah. I’ll call you with the flight information. Seen Nick and his new girl yet?”

“Yes.”

His answer was full of unspoken meaning.

“That bad?” Hutch asked.

“Oh, yes.”

“Okay…well. I guess I’ll find out when I get there. Call me if you get a moment alone.”

“Will do. Love you, Hutch.”

“Me, too, buddy.”

Hutch hung up and rolled over. His back was much better, and only gave him a twinge or two now and then. He’d been very careful with it over the past week and had only taken the brace off that morning before his trip. He’d worn the thing everywhere except to bed and was beginning to hate it.

Running his hand over the soft sheet, Hutch fervently wished Starsky was there beside him. Their mutual jerk-off had been the most sex they’d had in weeks, his back being too sensitive for them to try anything else. At Hutch’s insistence, there had been a few aborted attempts, but Hutch’s barely suppressed cries of pain had wilted Starsky like a flower in the desert. Added to that had been their complete exhaustion at putting the house together. When they’d left, everything had been in place, though, and it gave them a good feeling to know that they’d be returning to their home completely ready to begin their new life together. Hutch looked forward to Christmas. He planned to make it as festive as possible, since Starsky loved nothing better.

Starsky had been both surprised and relieved that Hutch had broken the news of their relationship to Huggy and that the man hadn’t run for the hills in horror. Hutch told him that since he’d had to sweat it out alone, Starsky could have the honor of telling Dobey. The look on Starsky’s face at that pronouncement had been priceless.

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Thanksgiving dawned bright and sunny, with a cold nip in the air. Jim lit fires in the fireplaces, and his parents arrived from nearby Tennessee with several wonderful-smelling casseroles. Janie and Bob Withrow were warm and loving, and Hutch couldn’t help but be envious of the way they treated Ed and Phil as normally as any other couple, giving Phillip the title of their “son-in-law.” Still, even though he missed Starsky, Hutch found himself having a good time. After dinner, Hutch, Jim, John, Bryant, Matt, Ed, and Phillip played a game of touch football out back that left them all a dirty, sweaty mess. Hutch’s back barely bothered him, and that did wonders for lifting his spirits and making him feel more like his old self.

Starsky called later than night. He’d walked to a corner store in order to have some privacy, obtaining a pocketful of coins to feed the pay phone.

“Angel is the biggest bitch I’ve ever met,” he said immediately. “I don’t think Ma likes her at all, but she won’t admit it. Nicky acts like she’s perfect. Oh, and I found out why they’re getting married. Can you guess?”

“Pregnant?” Hutch ventured. He sat in the family room watching the boys play a board game, the phone cradled on his shoulder.

“You got it. Evidently, Nick had been cheating on Bethany with her, and he knocked her up. That’s what broke up him and Bethany, not the fact that he lost his job. In fact, remember that Bethany’s friend is married to Nick’s boss…it isn’t too hard to guess why he was let go. So how in the hell does Nick plan to support a wife and baby—I wanna know that, but Ma acts like this is the greatest news she ever heard.”

“Jesus. Nick’s got himself in a mess this time,” Hutch said.

Starsky sighed. A car badly in need of a new muffler roared past. “Dinner was the most uncomfortable meal I’ve ever had, and that includes the time I dated the girl whose parents hated Jews, and we went out to eat with them.”

“What’s she like?” Hutch asked.

“Fuck, where do I begin? She’s rude, a know-it-all, has terrible manners, and she came onto me in the bathroom.”

“She what?”

“Yeah, she put her hand right on my ass and squeezed while I was washing up for dinner. Even tried to feel me up between my legs. I didn’t have time to say anything, ‘cause Nick came down the hall, and she was suddenly all over him.”

“Doesn’t sound like a match made in heaven,” Hutch admitted, again wondering why the thought of this girl fondling Starsky didn’t make his blood boil.

Starsky grumbled a little bit before pulling himself out of his foul mood to ask, “How was dinner at your sister’s? Did you give her a kiss for me?”

“Yeah, I did. And dinner was nice. Jim’s parents came, and they’re really great. They’re so accepting of Ed and Phil—you should’ve seen it.”

“Wish I could’ve. I really wish I was there and not here.”

“Me, too. You have a pen to write down my flight information?”

Starsky did, and after he jotted it down, they said their goodbyes.

The next morning, Andi drove Hutch to the airport.

“Please come back soon,” she told him, giving him a hug and a kiss before he got out of the station wagon.

“I will. I promise.”

“And next time make sure Dave’s with you.”

Hutch grinned.  “Oh, he won’t let me come again without him, believe me. Bye, honey. Thanks for everything.”

The flight was on time, and Hutch found Starsky waiting for him at baggage claim. Unable to share more than a friendly hug, Hutch breathed Starsky in before pulling back, their eyes speaking volumes. They picked up Hutch’s bags and headed for Nick’s car, which Starsky’d borrowed.

When they got close to his mother’s apartment building, Starsky pulled up a side street, parking behind an abandoned building. Throwing the car into park, he unbuckled and moved toward Hutch. Without a word, he took his face between his hands and kissed him lovingly.

“I’ve missed you so much,” he murmured against Hutch’s mouth.

“It’s only been a couple of days,” Hutch grinned against Starsky’s lips.

Starsky pulled back. “You sayin’ you didn’t miss me?” he asked with feigned offense. Hutch took hold of his partner’s shirt and pulled him back in for another kiss, tilting his head and running his tongue inside Starsky’s mouth.

“Of course I did, idiot,” he said fondly. “Missed you so much I couldn’t stand it.”

“Be glad we’re heading home tomorrow night. Being at Ma’s is no picnic this time around. Nick and Angel—a misnomer if I ever heard one—are staying the night. Nick’s heat’s on the fritz.”

“Where’s everyone going to sleep?”

“I picked up one of those blow-up beds at the store. Figured it’d be kinder to your back than the sofa bed. We’ll move the dining room table and put it up in there. Nick and the bitch can take the sofa.”

Hutch winced. Starsky must really dislike this girl—he wasn’t usually so nasty, especially when it came to women. “Sounds like a plan.” Hutch again kissed Starsky, who still straddled him, shivering as their tongues collided. From there things started heating up fast.

“What would your mother think if we were arrested for indecency?” Hutch asked a little brokenly when Starsky’s hand strayed between his legs. Reluctantly, Starsky pulled back.

“Right. We don’t want to give her any more ammo.” He wiggled off Hutch’s lap and buckled himself in. It was getting dark outside and beginning to snow. Starsky flipped on the windshield wipers, which flicked the dry snow this way and that. Ten minutes later they pulled up in front of Bea Starsky’s apartment building. When they walked into the apartment, Bea hugged and kissed her son, although she’d seen him no more than an hour before, and then greeted Hutch politely. Nick and Angel got up from their seats in the living room.

“Angel, honey, this is my brother’s…er…partner, Ken” Nick said.

 “Hi, Ken.” Angel chewed loudly on a piece of gum, her jaw working rhythmically. She wore her dirty blond hair in a ponytail and looked incredibly young to Hutch in her tie-dyed tunic reminiscent of the sixties and a pair of tight faded jeans. Despite the cold weather, her feet were in rope sandals.

“You and Dave are gay, right?” Angel asked as she shook Hutch’s hand.

“Dave’s not actually gay,” Bea said before Hutch could answer. “He’s having an identity crisis. He was critically wounded in the line of duty recently.”

“Oh, my God,” Starsky said. “Is that what you’re telling yourself now?”

“Actually, it’s what Father Mulligan told me. You went through a very traumatic time.”

Starsky put his hands on his hips. “And how exactly do you explain Hutch’s feelings?”

Bea shrugged. “Who knows? Ken may have had a latent sexual desire for men for years.”

Hutch’s brow went up, but he said nothing.

“Think whatever you want,” Starsky said, throwing his hands in the air and walking into the kitchen.

Hutch stood uncertainly in the living room.

“Did you have a pleasant Thanksgiving?” he finally asked as the silence drew out. Nick flopped back down on the sofa.

“It was fine. Ma makes the best turkey and dressing around. How come you weren’t here?”

“I went to see my sister and her family.” Hutch was a little surprised that Nick didn’t know his mother didn’t want Hutch there. Then again, it was possible he did know and only wanted to rub it in.

Bea excused herself, claiming exhaustion after the holiday, and headed for her bedroom.

Taking a seat, Hutch turned his attention to Angel, who had sprawled across Nick’s lap.

“Have you lived in New York all your life?”

“Since I was twelve,” Angel answered, snapping her gum. “I ran away from home—I’m from Pennsylvania originally. Worked the streets for a few years before I started waitressing.” She winked at Nick.

Shocked, Hutch tried to think of something to say.

“How did you meet Nick?” he finally asked.

Angel flashed a smile. “Oh—we’ve known each other on and off for years.”

Starsky appeared with a drink for Hutch, who took it with a grateful smile. Starsky perched on the edge of Hutch’s chair.

“Picked her up a few times on the corner,” Nick grinned, and Starsky spewed his beer halfway across the room.

Angel seemed nonplussed, and Nick just rolled his eyes. “Yeah, like you never slept with a prostitute,” he told his brother, who had fallen into a fit of coughing.

Hutch slapped Starsky on the back a few times. He could almost hear the words Starsky wanted to say –something along the lines of yeah, but I’d never marry one, and nudged him with his elbow.

“Does Ma know about it?” Starsky croaked.

“No. So I guess you’re gonna go tell her. Well, I got news for you, big brother. She’ll still be happier with our relationship than she is with yours.” Nick stretched his arms over his head. “It feels great being the top son for a change, let me tell ya. You and Hutch shoulda started packing fudge years ago.”

Starsky went rigid and abruptly stood, Hutch making a grab for his arm. Angel giggled, obviously enjoying the crudity and bickering.

“Starsk,” Hutch said quietly.

“Honestly, Davy,” Nick backpedaled, holding his hands up in front of him. “I don’t care what you choose to do in your private life. It’s fine. Really. But you can’t sit in judgment of me and Angel when you and Hutch are doin’ what you’re doin’.”

Starsky scowled. “Hutch and me aren’t doin’ anything wrong.”

“I don’t think Ma sees it that way,” Nick said. “And right now she’s over the moon about Angel and me expecting a baby. We’re thinking about getting married at Christmas. Wanna be my best man?”

Starsky’s face at that moment was a weird mixture of expressions that Hutch, as well as he knew his partner, was hard-pressed to discern.

“I’m tired, Nicky,” Angel whined. “Can we get ready for bed?”

“Sure, baby,” Nick agreed, standing up.

Hutch nudged Starsky off the arm of the chair and stood up, too. “I’m pretty tired myself. Where’s that mattress?”

Before Starsky left the room, he put a finger in his brother’s face. “You and me need to have a conversation before my flight tomorrow night. Got it?”

“Sure, Davy,” Nick gave him a smile and turned to remove the cushions from the sofa.

Hutch followed Starsky into the dining room where Starsky pulled a box out of a small closet.

“This thing comes with some kinda foot pump to blow it up,” Starsky explained as he took everything out and positioned it all on the floor. He and Hutch had already moved the table after it had been cleared of dinner.

The two men took turns pushing on the foot pump until the mattress was firm enough for them to sleep on. It took a little longer than anticipated, and it was definitely a two person job since one had to keep the pump attached to the mattress while the other did the compressions necessary to blow it up. At last, Starsky got the sheets from the linen closet, and they made up the bed.

When they were settled on it and all was dark and quiet, Starsky whispered, “This really is better than the sofa bed.”

“Definitely,” Hutch agreed. He nuzzled closer to Starsky, wrapping his legs around his partner’s before settling in to sleep.

He awoke abruptly some time later to a finger poking him in the side. Another hand came up and covered Hutch’s mouth. He waited.

“Listen.” Starsky’s breath was hot in his ear. Hutch stiffened, straining his ears in the darkness. After a few seconds, he heard a moan, and his eyes widened.

“I can’t believe they’re doin’ it here!” Starsky said into Hutch’s ear.

Giggling, both male and female, drifted from the other room. A rhythmical squeaking started up.

“Oh, Nick!” Angel’s voice was loud in the silence.

“Yeah, Baby.”

Hutch rose up onto his elbows, peering into the darkness. He turned to Starsky and whispered, “You think your mother will come out here?”

“I remember the day when she’d come running with a baseball bat. But Ma’s waited too long for a grandchild,” Starsky replied.

Hutch settled back down, pulling his partner close and settling him with his head on Hutch’s chest. He ran a hand down Starsky’s smooth back. The noises in the living room became more urgent, and he felt Starsky tensing. Gently, he pushed Starsky away and moved under the covers.

“Hey, what…?”

Hutch’s head appeared again. “Well, she’s unlikely to hear what we’re up to during all this.”

The next moment he had pulled Starsky out of his pajama bottoms and into his mouth, and Starsky made no protest, just wrapped his fingers in Hutch’s soft hair and held on.

~~~~~~

Starsky was not in a good mood. He’d spent days pent up in a small apartment with his mother, brother, and a girl he couldn’t stand, and, other than the quick blow job Hutch had given him the night before, he hadn’t had sex in weeks. Added to that was his mother’s rejection of Hutch and the fact that she approved of Nick’s relationship to an ex-hooker waitress who happened to be incredibly rude. Of course, Bea didn’t know that Angel was an ex-hooker, but Starsky suspected that Nick had been right when he said that even if she did, she would still choose her over Hutch. Starsky was more than ready to leave, and he counted the hours until their flight left that afternoon.

He’d taken Nick aside and let him have it for being such a dick the night before, including a firm dressing down for screwing in their mother’s home. Nick had stood there with barely concealed impatience, nodding at what Starsky had to say, and then he’d gone back to his girlfriend and her catalogues of wedding gowns. Starsky wanted to ask him how the hell he was going to afford one, but he refrained. To be honest, he didn’t really care. Nick could do whatever the hell he wanted. He was relieved when after lunch Nick and Angel left.

While Hutch was in the shower, Starsky made sure their bags were packed before going into his mother’s room to say goodbye.

“I hope you won’t wait so long before you visit next time,” Bea Starsky said to her oldest son. She sat propped up on her bed with a book, her reading glasses on the end of her nose. A pang gripped Starsky’s chest—she looked older every time he saw her. He moved to sit on the edge of the bed.

“I don’t know, Ma. Things weren’t very comfortable this visit.”

Bea frowned. “And whose fault was that?”

“Yours,” Starsky said bluntly. “We had a pretty good time when we were here last month. Now it’s like you’re barely civil to Hutch.” He sighed. “He doesn’t deserve it, Ma. He’s never treated you with anything other than kindness and respect, and he never would, no matter how you treated him. He’s got enough rejection in his life from his parents. Can’t you just try to treat him like one of the family—like you did before we told you about us?”

Bea took her glasses off, placing them in her lap.  “David, I want you to think about what you’re doing. You’ve always liked girls. When you were a teenager, you had one girlfriend after another.”

“And did you ever stop to think about that, Ma? I’ve always had one girlfriend after another, not just in high school. Nobody so special they stayed around for long.”

“What about that sweet Terri? You two were going to get married; I just know it.”

Starsky shook his head. “I don’t know, maybe. I did love Terri—she was exactly what I thought a wife should be. But Ma, we only dated a couple months when she died. We might’ve gotten married, sure, but part of what I loved about Terri was that she accepted Hutch in my life. He would’ve remained in my life, and I don’t really know what would’ve happened. Or, we might’ve dated a while longer and then gone our separate ways, and Hutch and I still would’ve gotten together down the road. What you’ve got to realize is that this thing between me and Hutch…it’s always been there. Always.”

Bea looked away, and Starsky reached out and gently nudged her cheek so she met his eyes.

“I’ve been attracted to Hutch from day one. I just buried it. Told myself it was something else. Ma, I’ve always loved him, and I’m happier now than I’ve ever been. And if you can’t accept that, well…I guess we aren’t going to be seeing so much of each other. Because Hutch and me are a package deal. Other people in his life may not be there for him, but I always will be. Period. End of story.”

Starsky leaned in and kissed his mother on her forehead before standing up. He‘d heard the shower turn off while he was talking and knew Hutch would soon be ready to go.

Leaving the room, he went into the kitchen for a glass of water. Hutch joined him a few minutes later.

“Almost ready?” Starsky asked, leaning against the counter.

“I guess we’d better give ourselves plenty of time to get to the airport,” Hutch acknowledged.
“I’ll just go say goodbye to your mother.”

 Starsky nodded, resisting the urge to go with him. When Hutch returned, he pulled him close and kissed him gently on the mouth. “Let’s go home, partner."

“Hutch, you can’t expect me to tell Dobey while he’s over here stuffing his face with burgers and hot dogs!” Starsky complained.

“No, don’t tell him while he’s eating; he might choke,” Hutch replied, bustling around the kitchen, making sure all the desserts had been taken outside to the table.

“But you want me to tell him tonight? With Edith and the kids here?”

Hutch turned to his partner, who looked boyish and sexy in his red T-shirt and ragged blue jeans. “We agreed that since I had to tell Huggy all by myself, you’d break the news to Dobey. If you don’t tell him soon, he’s going to hear it some other way and be hurt and mad. Just get him alone and tell him. Got it?” Hutch softened the order with a peck on Starsky’s cheek before walking outside to join their guests.

If he were honest, Hutch would admit to Starsky that he was stressed out. Too much had been going on, and he hadn’t had an outlet. The GRE had been difficult, and he wasn’t sure that he’d passed it. Starsky had been exhausted from having to replace the front steps when they’d caved in. Tom had spent hours helping him with that while Hutch had done last minute studying for his test, and Hutch again had felt the burn of a jealousy he really didn’t understand. He’d made the mistake of admitting that to Starsky, and his partner had laughed at him. Then one morning while Starsky was working on the steps, a hornet’s nest had dislodged from the beam over the porch, and Starsky had been stung several times. Hutch had seen his partner react better to gunshot wounds than he did to those stings. The ensuing theatrics were considerable.

Then suddenly the date that Huggy had so ‘kindly’ set for the house warming party arrived, and Hutch found himself entertaining guests in their new home just a couple of weeks before Christmas. They were fortunate that the skies were clear and the weather a balmy 72 degrees. Their friends wore light jackets and sweaters as they sat around the back yard eating and talking.

Hillary, Cecelia, and a few of their friends were there, and Huggy held court under a large Elm tree with Tom and a couple of other bachelor friends. Starsky had had to take Hillary aside and explain about his relationship with Hutch, since they didn’t want to spend the afternoon avoiding advances. She’d been very supportive about it, even shocking Starsky by telling him she’d suspected as much back when she’d been going out with him.

“Looks like they’re having fun,” Starsky said peering at the group under the tree from over Hutch’s shoulder. Hutch nodded. He still couldn’t get to the bottom of his feelings of jealousy where Tom was concerned. Even stranger to him was that he didn’t feel threatened by women, even though it wouldn’t be beyond the realm of imagination that his partner might still decide to choose heterosexuality over their relationship. With a sigh, he joined Starsky in getting a beer and chatting with Edith and Dobey, who sat at the picnic table with Minnie and her new boyfriend, a man from Records.  After a while, Hutch broke off from the group and wandered over to fill a small bowl with Minnie’s delicious banana pudding.

He spotted Rosey on the driveway at the side of the house playing hopscotch with a friend she’d brought with her. Cal had his current girlfriend with him, and they sat in lawn chairs talking and laughing with Kiko and Molly.

Hutch wondered when would be the right time to tell their two young friends about their relationship. As though he’d read his mind, Starsky appeared beside him with his own bowl of dessert and said, “We don’t have to rush into telling Keek and Molly about us, do we? I mean, can’t we wait a while?”

Hutch nodded his agreement. It was going to be pretty weird telling them, and he wasn’t in any hurry. Not that it wasn’t going to be extremely weird telling their ex-captain the news, and he felt a little pang of guilt at having settled that chore on Starsky. Perhaps Hutch would step in and help him out after all.

Adding to Hutch’s stress that day had been the call from Bea Starsky they’d gotten that morning pleading with Starsky to come for Christmas. She’d pulled out all the stops, telling her son that her lumbago was acting up, and she might not have many Christmas’s left. Added to that was Nick’s wedding on New Year’s Day and the fact that he wanted Starsky to be his best man. Bea was livid that Starsky had declined and told Nick he should ask his best friend Jerry instead.

“What kind of person says no to his own brother?” Bea had asked him.

“The kind whose been burned by said brother one too many times,” Starsky had answered her. Then she’d started crying, and Starsky had had to try to soothe her. Hutch had ended up leaving for the grocery store, unable to stand the thought of being the cause of tension in the Starsky family. If he weren’t involved with Starsky, they wouldn’t be at odds—it was as simple as that. It did no good to tell himself that Starsky wouldn’t be arguing with his mother if he didn’t want things this way. Hutch still felt the familiar burn of rejection.

“We’re running out of Coke’s,” Huggy said, ambling over to them. “These kids are drinking them like crazy.”

“I’ll make a run to the store,” Starsky announced, and slipped back inside the house to get his keys and wallet.

Huggy went back to entertaining the ladies, and Hutch heard the garage door come up. He hurried over to warn Rosey and her friend well out of the way, and was about to join Dobey and the others at the picnic table when Tom approached, the keys to his truck in hand.

“This’s been great, Hutch. Thanks for inviting me.”

“You leaving so soon?” Hutch asked, surprised, watching the Torino back out of the garage.

“Yeah, is that Dave? I was going to tell him goodbye.”

“He’s just going for some drinks. He’ll be right back. Sure you can’t stay a while longer? The party will probably break up soon anyway, since we don’t have a lot of room inside to entertain.”

“My partner, Max, and I are going to have a quiet night at home, but thanks anyway.”

“Oh.” Hutch couldn’t hide his surprise. “I didn’t know you were involved with someone. He could’ve come with you.”

Tom smiled. “He works at the emergency room at the hospital. I’ve got to go pick him up now, or I’d wait for Dave. But maybe some other time. I’ve spoken with Dave about the four of us going out one night soon.”

“That’d be great,” Hutch answered with a smile he hoped didn’t look too fake.

So Tom was gay and Starsky knew it. And Starsky had told Tom about the two of them. That was just great. Why hadn’t his partner bothered to tell him?”

He watched Tom go, then wandered over to joke with the young people for a while. When Starsky returned with the drinks, he helped him get them on ice.

“What’s the matter?” Starsky asked, bent over the large cooler. “You’re all tense.”

“We’ll talk about it later,” Hutch replied.

Starsky frowned, watching Hutch dig the Coke bottles into the ice with a little more force than necessary. “Uh, uh. Follow me.”

“Starsk—“

“Now.” Starsky turned and walked toward the garage, its door still standing open. He held his arm up, indicating that Hutch should go first, and then followed him into the darkened room, pulling the rolling door down behind him.

“What are you doing?” Hutch asked, annoyed.

“Giving us a little privacy so you can tell me what’s got your knickers in a wad. I go to the store for fifteen minutes, and come back with you mad at me about something.”

Hutch huffed, unwilling to get into this while they still had guests.

“You’d better tell me, Hutch; we’ll be standing here until you do.”

“For Christ’s sake, Starsky…” he looked at his partner’s face and the stubborn set of his mouth. Starsky leaned his hand against the Torino, his ankles casually crossed. The car made clicking noises as the engine cooled. Outside, muted sounds of laughter and Dobey’s loud voice rising in mirth assured Hutch that the party went on without them. “Okay. How long have you known that Tom is gay?”

Starsky blinked. “A while. Why?”

“And when did you tell him about us?”

“We’ve been working together on the roof and then the porch for weeks now, Hutch. I can’t pinpoint exactly when it happened. You mad that I told him about us? He probably figured it out before that anyway.”

Hutch stumbled over a few words, trying to figure out why he was so angry about it. “Shit, I-I I just don’t know why you didn’t tell me. I mean,” he ran a hand through his hair, his body tensing with the stress overload of the past few weeks. “You laughed at me when I admitted I was jealous…why didn’t you just tell me Tom had a partner at home?”

Starsky sighed. “First off, I was too thrown by the fact that you’d be jealous about a guy. Shit, you’re the only man I’ve ever looked at that way in my life, Hutch! Yet I can flirt with women from dawn ‘til dusk, and you don’t bat an eyelash. What the hell’s up with that?”

“I don’t know,” Hutch grumbled, leaning back against the car. “I can’t help the way I feel.” He shrugged his shoulder, trying to get the kink out of it. He was so wound up inside, he hurt.

“And,” Starsky continued, studying his partner’s face, “I think maybe, after you told me that, I was a little afraid to tell you Tom’s gay, because that would only make you more jealous. Like he might be attracted to me or something.”

Hutch knew that made sense. He shook his head, trying to put his thoughts into words. “This is all just so different, Starsk. You with women…that’s something I’m used to. But what you and I have together—what we’ve become to each other lately... “ He stopped. Swallowed. “I just don’t think I could handle it if you wanted another man.” There, he’d laid his bare feelings out for his partner to see. If Starsky looked at him with pity, he was going to be out of there like a shot.

Starsky moved around to stand in front of him. To Hutch’s surprise, Starsky’s face was angry as he grabbed Hutch roughly by the arm and spun him around to face the car. “What the fuck—“

“Shut up,” Starsky’s warm breath tickled his ear, sending a tingling sensation straight to Hutch’s toes. Starsky had Hutch’s arms pinned behind him, his hold none too gentle. His hips pinned Hutch against the car. “I want you to listen to me good, Hutchinson.” The steel in his partner’s tone had Hutch’s cock hard in two seconds flat. “You’re the only man I want—the only one I’m ever gonna want. Ten years ago when I met you, you were this fresh-faced boy from Minnesota and I wanted to get into your pants so bad, I couldn’t stand it.” Starsky’s nose brushed through Hutch’s hair. “Me…street-tough Dave Starsky from the Bronx, wanted a guy in his bed! I quickly squelched all thought of that, and went on. But as God is my witness, Hutch, I’ve never looked at another guy that way—never even admired a man’s ass in the locker room. You and me are something special, and you know it.” Starsky pushed against him almost brutally, his cock rock-solid against Hutch’s ass. “And I don’t ever wanna hear this kind of talk again, you got me?” One hand freed Hutch’s wrist and pushed him down onto the hood of the Torino. Starsky’s voice was still angry when he said, “I want you, Hutch. Every minute of the day. Even when you’re acting like a complete jack ass. I’m gonna prove that to you right now.”

Hutch gasped as Starsky reached around and opened Hutch’s pants, yanking them down so fast, Hutch didn’t have time to react. His heart beat a rapid pattern in his chest, and his mouth went dry. He felt his bare cock slide against the still-warm steel of the Torino—Starsky’s Torino—and he felt a jolt of desire so extreme, he nearly came right then. It had been so long since Starsky had touched him like this. Too fucking long.

And even though their yard was filled with guests, Hutch wanted this. He yearned for what was coming with every fiber of his being as Starsky pushed him harder onto the hood, using his feet to spread Hutch’s legs. He could hear Starsky spitting into his hand and getting himself wet with it before the pressure from behind let him know what was about to happen. Silently, Hutch hoisted his ass upward to give his partner access, his feet still tangled in his pants. Starsky groaned as he slowly eased inside Hutch’s opening, and Hutch rode out the brief pain of intrusion, his heart beating even harder against the walls of his chest. Then Starsky slammed into him, hard—so hard. Hutch’s face hit the warm metal of the car, and he smelled the familiar odor of steel and paint as Starsky speared him over and over again, pushing  Hutch’s torso forward and his dick against the smooth hood, the friction painful but so, so good. Starsky’s hands held Hutch’s hips as he fucked him furiously, muttering angry expletives about Hutch and his stupid ideas while the ecstasy built inside Hutch until it teetered on  the edge of overflowing.

“Shit, Starsk—fuck!”

Starsky drove into him again, cock spot-on Hutch’s prostate, and Hutch muffled a sob, his hands scrambling for purchase on the hood as Starsky relentlessly drove Hutch’s body into it. It felt so good, so fucking good, having Starsky inside of him, claiming him. His partner could have talked to him for hours, but only this would drive the demons from Hutch’s mind and the built-up stress from his body, and it didn’t surprise Hutch a bit that Starsky had intuitively known that. “You—only you,” Starsky declared raggedly, his hips missing every other beat as his body tensed against Hutch’s, ready for release.

A voice in Hutches head said, Starsky’s fucking you on his car! And Hutch went off like a rocket, his eyes squeezed shut, lights and colors splashing against the backs of his eyelashes, sensation exploding throughout his groin until even his fingers tingled in reaction. And then Starsky was coming, his breathing thick and wet through his clenched teeth, and Hutch felt his partner’s balls slapping his as he thrust two--three more times before keening and pausing… and Hutch squeezed his ass cheeks together, milking the last bit of semen from Starsky’s cock along with a gasp from his mouth.

Hutch rested his sweat-slick face against the hood of the car, breathing raggedly as his body came back from his massive orgasm. Starsky slid out of him, and Hutch sighed, weakly pushing himself up and peering between his body and the car.

“I got spunk on your car,” he said softly, and then laughed. He couldn’t stop laughing, he felt so damned good.

Starsky gave Hutch’s butt a playful slap before stepping away from him. Hutch heard him zipping his jeans, and the sound made his dick jump in reaction. He hauled himself up from the car and bent to pull his pants up. When he turned to face his partner, Starsky looked a little ashamed of himself. Hutch touched the side of his face. “Just what I needed, partner.” He kissed him lightly on the lips before leaning his head against Starsky’s. “I love you.”

Starsky pulled Hutch into an unexpected hug. Hutch could feel his partner’s heart hammering against his own chest, and he pulled him closer to him, pressing his face into Starsky’s sweat-soaked neck. They stood like that a few moments before Starsky finally moved away, and with a small smile, turned and raised the garage door. They blinked into the light.

It seemed like they’d been gone for hours, but the party continued as though they hadn’t left it. Hutch felt like everyone should be able to tell his bones were now liquefied mush inside his body.  He tried to dim the elated smile that kept creeping onto his face, but he doubted he was very successful.

Later that evening, after darkness had fallen, Hutch sat on a lawn chair winding up a long debate with Kiko about world religion, a subject the boy was taking in his first year of college. Minnie and her boyfriend had left, along with Huggy, who had invited the ladies to The Pits. Edith had insisted on helping with the clean- up, and Rosey had fallen asleep between Hutch’s legs, a light blanket draped over her. Cal and his girlfriend were snuggled up together in the shadows.

Just as Hutch had turned his head to look for Starsky, his partner emerged from the house with Dobey. Hutch had completely forgotten that he’d ordered Starsky to tell Dobey about their relationship, and he could tell by the way they looked that they’d been having a serious discussion. Hutch wanted to get up and go to them, but he was pinned down by Rosey’s sleeping form. He waited, searching Starsky’s face for a clue as to how it had gone.

When Dobey reached their little group, he looked down fondly at his sleeping daughter. “I told her she didn’t get enough sleep last night,” he said in his gruff manner. “Stayed up to watch some movie on TV with her brother. Cal’s going to have to carry her to the car. Where is he, anyway?”

Hutch indicated the corner of the yard with a movement of his hand, and Dobey huffed before moving off in that direction to split up the couple.

“Did you tell him?” Hutch asked, and Starsky nodded. “Shit, Starsk, I know I told you to do it, but I was going to help you.”

“Now you tell me,” the corner of Starsky’s mouth went up. “It’s okay. It wasn’t too bad. I’ll tell you about it later.”

His family gathered, Dobey directed Cal to lift the sleeping Rosey, and Edith pulled her sweater on.

“Thanks for a fun evening, Hutchinson, Starsky,” Dobey nodded to them both.

“We’re glad you could come,” Hutch replied. He kissed Edith on the cheek. “Thank you for cleaning up. You didn’t have to do that.”

“It was my pleasure,” Edith told him. “I left the rest of my pie in the refrigerator. You boys keep yourselves well-fed. Are you coming for Christmas dinner?”

Hutch looked to Starsky. “Our plans are a little up in the air, but we’ll keep the invitation in mind.” Not only was he not sure that his partner might change his mind about going to New York, but Hutch wasn’t sure that the captain would welcome them into his home now that he knew about the nature of their relationship. He was eager to hear what had been said.

After they’d exchanged goodbyes and the Dobey’s went to their car, Kiko and Molly helped put away the chairs and packed a load of left overs into Kiko’s blue Pinto. Starsky and Hutch hugged them both, and then stood waving as they backed out of the driveway and drove off.

Arms around each other’s waists, they walked inside the house, locking up the doors and switching off the lights.

Wordlessly, they stripped off their clothes and climbed into bed.

“I’m sure Dobey had some idea when he saw the layout of the house,” Starsky said into the darkness, his hand clasped in Hutch’s. “He didn’t seem all that surprised.”

“What did he say?” Hutch asked, fiddling with Starsky’s fingers.

“Just that it wasn’t any of his business. And that it didn’t change the way he felt about us.”

“I guess that’s good, then. I couldn’t expect any better than that from him.”

“I agree.”

“Starsk?”

“Yeah?” Starsky pulled Hutch’s hand to his lips and kissed it.

“I think you should go be in Nick’s wedding.”

“Hutch—“

“He’s your brother. The only one you’ve got. And even though I know you don’t care for Angel, they are having a baby together. You’re going to be an uncle.”

“I want you to go with me.”

“I don’t think that’s a very good idea.”

“It’s the only way I’m gonna do it. We’ll fly there for the wedding, and I’ll be the best man. But we’re not going for Christmas. We saw Ma in October and for Thanksgiving, which she made me miss spending with you. I want to have Christmas here in our own place. Besides, I’ve been thinking about this, and I’m not gonna start feeding into Ma’s wishes and splitting us up every holiday. If she wants to see me, she’s gonna see you, too.”

“You sure?”

“Positive.” Starsky released his hand and rolled to his side. Hutch did likewise, and they assumed the spooning position they liked to sleep in.

After several moments of silence, Hutch began to relax into the mattress. He was really beat, and he could tell the pounding Starsky had given him in the garage was going to give him the best night’s rest he’d had in a month.

“Hutch?” Starsky’s voice said from behind him.

“Mmm?”

“Did you wipe your spunk off my Torino?”

Hutch’s eyes fluttered open. “Nope.”

“You think it’ll mess up the paint?”

Hutch frowned. “Starsky, if bird shit doesn’t, how’s my spunk going to?”

Starsky seemed to be thinking that one over. “I think bird shit does mess up the paint."

"Well, spunk doesn't," Hutch grumbled.

"How do you know? Maybe it’s got some weird proteins in it or something that eats paint.”

“If that were the case, do you think you’d be able to swallow it?” Hutch sighed and closed his eyes again.

Starsky’s hand moved restlessly against Hutch’s stomach. “I don’t know. Maybe I outta go clean it off.”

“For cryin’ out loud, Starsky!” Hutch wiggled his backside against his partner’s warm groin. “I’m comfortable! Your precious Torino isn’t going to be marred by my big, bad sperm, so go to sleep already! Besides, it was your idea to fuck me on your car!”

Hutch felt Starsky’s smile against his skin. “It was pretty good, wasn’t it.”

Hutch sighed contentedly. “It was fantastic. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.” Starsky squeezed him before relaxing against him.

A moment later, Starsky chuckled.

“What?” Hutch groused, his face half-buried in his pillow.

“Your ‘big, bad sperm’,” Starsky chuckled again, his body moving against Hutch’s.

Hutch smiled and squeezed his partner’s hand.

Finis