Partners was first published in Olliethology II zine in October 2012.

I would like to thank my two wonderful beta readers, Provencepuss, for the initial reading, and Dawnebeth who made me 'overhaul' the story. You gals are awesome!

                                                                  Partners by Sam KW.

1.    A Partner Always Knows

Detective Ken Hutchinson's Monday morning began with the usual argument about his chosen career. His wife, Vanessa, looked down on his profession and never failed to tell him how she felt about it. Not a single day passed by without her snide remarks, and Hutch was getting tired of it.

"You know what you are, Ken? You are a self-centered, egotistical, sore loser who has no sense of responsibility towards me or to anyone in your family," Vanessa snapped, her green eyes blazing. She pulled the bathroom door shut with a final bang. An uneasy silence followed once the dishes stopped rattling.

"Thanks for the complement, Van. You always make me feel better about myself. After all, that's what marriage is all about, right?" Hutch said with a hint of sarcasm in his voice, not giving Vanessa the satisfaction of making him angry and all worked up.

He was about to leave the house when Vanessa emerged from the bathroom wrapped in her silk robe, still wearing a scowl on her face.

"If you really wanted to help people, you could have been a doctor. With your father's connections, you could have very easily climbed the ladder up to chief or director in no time, but you just had to become a plain, simple police officer."

"Detective, Van. I'm a detective now," Hutch said under his breath. He turned around to see her standing in the doorway, one hand on the hip and the other lost somewhere in her dark hair. 

"You know, Ken," Vanessa continued, ignoring Hutch's words completely. "I was wondering how you would feel if I left my modeling career and become a prostitute, because that's exactly how I feel about your line of work."

Hutch felt like a time-bomb that needed just one little connection to light the fuse to set him off. Vanessa knew exactly what buttons to push to shatter his composure. He counted to three, inhaled and exhaled deeply to calm his rising anger.

"Oh, Van, you are priceless. That was a good one. You've just made my day," Hutch hissed between his teeth. "I guess it's time to meet my pimp."

Hutch left the house instantly, his mouth dry and his stomach in knots, knowing he was already late for his first shift of the new schedule.

***

Detective David Starsky was surprised to find that he made it to the Metro before his partner, Hutch. It was a bright sunny day, and he was all ready to cruise the streets. Hopefully Captain Dobey wouldn't bombard them with rewriting last week's reports. Starsky had spent six hours writing them the day before. Was it his fault that Dobey didn't share his taste in report writing?

Starsky was filling up his coffee mug at the coffee cart when Hutch walked into the squad room. The place was crowded with cops on such a busy morning. Hutch's cheeks looked flushed, and his lips were set in a tight line.

Alarm bells went off in Starsky's head. Trouble in the home department!

"Hey, partner," Starsky said with his usual cheerful tone.

"Hey," Hutch managed a faint smile. He threw his jacket over the chair and walked over to the coffee cart.

"What's going on?" Starsky asked. He already had Hutch's coffee ready for him. He pushed the mug into Hutch's hand noticing the slight tremor when their knuckles brushed off against each other's.

"Nothing much," Hutch said walking back to his desk.

Starsky sipped his coffee in silence, leaning against the wall beside the coffee pot, giving his partner a few minutes to calm down. Then he walked around Hutch and sat up on his desk beside him, pulling a chair to rest his feet.

"Wanna talk about it?" asked Starsky softly.

"Just the usual stuff. You know, I'm a big loser. I don't care about anyone else but me," Hutch said, rolling his eyes.

Starsky watched the emotions that played across Hutch's face. Those accusations alone could not have been the reason for Hutch's icy-blue eyes to flash so dangerously.

"You know Starsk, I thought I had heard it all when she said the other day that I would have been better off as a circus clown, but I got the best deal today," said Hutch. He leaned forward and rested his right elbow on the desk, massaging his temples with his long fingers. He held on to his coffee mug with his left hand.

"That bad, huh?"

"Tell me, Starsk, what would you do if your wife told you that you leaving a career in medicine to join the police force was like her leaving her modeling career to be a prostitute?"

Starsky choked on his coffee. "She said what?" he asked between coughs. "You mean she compared us to hookers?"

Hutch nodded and offered Starsky a paper napkin.

Starsky quickly grabbed it to wipe the brown spots that soaked into his jeans.

"Hookers, huh? So who's the pimp?" Starsky asked under his breath. He felt his temperature rising, but tried to remain calm. They were at work.

Starsky had not tasted the acidity of the words that poured out of Vanessa's mouth on a day-to-day basis. What Hutch said hit him like bullets, and he couldn't even imagine how Hutch was holding up. He patted Hutch on the shoulder and gave a gentle squeeze. That was all the comfort he could offer his furious, but hurting partner, for the moment.

What the hell did Hutch see in Vanessa that made him marry her and stay with her for this long? Hutch would never give up his career as a cop so why put him through this misery each and every day?

"Starsky, Hutchinson," Captain Dobey shouted from his office.

They walked in to meet their captain, and Starsky felt it was going to be a long day when he saw the stack of files on Dobey's desk.

Re-writing old reports!

***

At the end of a twelve hour shift of report writing and cruising through the streets for crime, it was time to call it a day. Starsky watched his partner leaving in his Ford LTD. He picked up his keys to his Mustang. He shook his head, concerned for what Hutch would face once he got home. He knew who Vanessa was and what she was capable of. The bitch doesn't deserve Hutch!

***

Hutch arrived back at his house, thinking of a hot shower and a hot meal. He was tired and hungry. Vanessa wasn't there, and the house had a dark, deserted feel. What was Vanessa doing out so late? He walked into the kitchen to root around for some dinner and found a note stuck to the refrigerator.

"Ken: I'm leaving you. I would expect you to move your things out of the house by the end of the week."

Hutch felt as if his feet had grown roots. He crumpled the sheet in his palm, dazed. What the heck had happened?  Sure, they argued this morning, but it wasn't the first time they'd had an argument only to have make-up sex later that night. She was leaving me?

Unable to think straight, he walked out of the house and found Starsky sitting cross-legged on his car, next to the LTD, and watching the door.

 "Get in," said Starsky. He always knew what Hutch needed!

2.    A Partner's Promise

Starsky drove Hutch to his apartment. Starsky didn't say much in the car, and Hutch was too stunned to think through his next moves.

Hutch always came to Starsky's place whenever he and Vanessa had disagreements. He had spent several nights here feeling comfortable, safe, and loved. Starsky's presence could do wonders for him, but today was a different story. He wanted a lot more than the normal comfortable, safe, warm, and loved feeling. Hutch wanted to be wanted. He wanted to feel wanted.

Hutch slouched on the couch, wondering where Vanessa was spending the night. Did she come back home after I left? Is she really leaving me? For a moment, he could hardly breathe. Hutch wasn't aware of Starsky sitting beside him until he felt a warm hand on his cheek. He met Starsky's eyes, sensing the confusion behind the surface of concern.  A look, a tug, a sigh, a feather-light brush on the cheek, and Hutch was in Starsky's arms. Tears found their resting place on Starsky's shoulders.

"She is leaving me, Starsk. What am I going to do?" Hutch asked in a choked, broken voice. He cried for the broken promises and shattered dreams, knowing that his life will never be the same again.

"We will get through this partner." Starsky's voice was a soothing comfort for his frayed nerves. Hutch allowed himself to be drawn into the serenity of his partners' embrace.

"What is the purpose of this life, Starsk?" Hutch asked, taking a hitched breath.

"You have to live for me." Starsky tightened his arms around Hutch. "I need you, I want you. Is that enough of a purpose for you to live?"

Starsky held Hutch's trembling body against his heart feeling Hutch's grief and despair wash over him. He wished with all what he was that he could take Hutch's sorrow away.

Ahh Hutch… I wish I could be you today.

I wish I could take all your pain, and hide it in a dungeon that will never see the light.
I wish I could take this day away from you, and never bring it back.

I promise you this, Hutch… I promise to never leave you!
I promise I'll be your shadow, and shadow you when you feel lost!
I promise I'll never break your heart!
I promise to love you like no one has ever loved you!

I promise you, Hutch, I promise to want you for the rest of my life!

 

3.     A Partner's Secret

Herbal tea had not upgraded Hutch's status to sleepy.

Starsky had bought the chamomile tea a couple of months ago. The first night Hutch crashed in Starsky's apartment after one of his 'disagreements' with Vanessa, he had refused the coffee Starsky had made. Looking for something else his partner would drink, Starsky had browsed the herbal tea aisle next day at the health food store.  He had a feeling that the tea would come in handy in the future. Hutch was surprised when Starsky offered him herbal tea the next time he stayed over.

Hutch emptied the cup and swirled the leftover leaves at the bottom in the cup.

"Trying to read them?" asked Starsky softly.

"Can I stay with you tonight?" Hutch's voice trailed uncertainly and he watched Starsky walk up to him.

Starsky knelt on the couch, one foot bent at the knee and the other foot on the floor. He cupped Hutch's head in both of his hands, tunneling his fingers into his silky hair. Since when do you need permission to be where you truly belong, partner?

"That was a stupid question, huh?" asked Hutch.

Starsky pulled him to his chest, holding him tight, and rested his cheek on Hutch's head. He began to rub Hutch's back in small gentle circles with one hand while he continued to ruffle Hutch's hair. He needed the contact more than Hutch did. Starsky needed to know that his partner was with him, and that he was going to fix everything. He felt Hutch's arms snaking around his waist, bringing their bodies even closer. 

It was getting late. "Go shower and sleep. The bed is yours," Starsky said distinctly, his voice hoarse and intense with emotions he couldn't quite put into words.

Hutch was very quiet and still when Starsky helped him to bed. Once he got Hutch settled in, Starsky left the bedroom to make himself a bed on his couch in the living room.  He lay on his back and stared at the ceiling, listening to Hutch tossing and turning in his bed. 

Ahh, Hutch… your mind doesn't stop thinking, does it? This is going to be a long long night.

After a while, Starsky heard the rustling of sheets and a restless man. There was a movement in his bedroom, then a voice. "Starsk?"

Starsky brushed a hand through his hair and blinked at the pale, ghost-like figure standing at the bedroom door.

"Can't sleep." Hutch's voice was apologetic.

"Me neither." Starsky got up off the couch, led Hutch back to the bed and tucked him in. The next minute, the mattress dipped with his weight. Starsky pulled Hutch to him, enveloping Hutch from head to toe, spooning with him.

Starsky tucked his right hand under his head and draped his left hand over Hutch, holding him, making him feel safe. But it wasn't enough, not enough for either of them. Starsky sighed and moved his right arm beneath Hutch, bringing him even closer. Only their thin pieces of clothing separated one from the other. Starsky shivered in the dark, and pulled the covers over them, but he knew cold had nothing to do with the shivers that ran down his spine. His grandmother, his bubbe, had told him all about the shivers when he was twelve years old.

"Give your heart to the one who makes you shiver," Bubbe said when Davey told her about his new girlfriend. 

"Are you asking me to marry an Eskimo?" he asked, munching on freshly baked sugar cookies.

"If that's your soul mate, then yes."

His bubbe had been a wise woman. Every Saturday, she would bake a batch of cookies just for him. He would curl up in her bed and listen to her stories about the brave little prince who always seemed to get lost in the jungle. The prince managed to find his way back to his castle through Bubbe's ever-changing plots.

Starsky had dated many women. He had always been a ladies' man, going out with every pretty woman who flashed him a smile, but the shivers had been few and far between. When he least expected it, a full blown shiver as if an arctic wind blew past occurred on the first day at the police academy when he was introduced to his roommate. The shiver had raised the hair on the back of his neck when he saw the wedding ring on Ken Hutchinson's finger.

His roommate, who became his friend, his partner and the love of his life, lay in his arms today, suffering a broken heart. Starsky had fallen in love with Hutch a long time ago. His unshed tears were for the love he had locked within his heart. A secret he guarded with his life and a secret Starsky vowed to never reveal. He held Hutch tight, not tight enough for him to feel restrained, but just enough to let Hutch know that he wasn't alone. 

"Feel better?" Starsky whispered into Hutch's ear right beneath his lips. He felt Hutch shiver.

Hutch tried to pull Starsky even closer, but they were already spooned back to front without an inch between them.

"I'm right here, Hutch. Go to sleep," Starsky whispered and reached down to brush the few strands of soft silky hair from Hutch's forehead. Starsky nuzzled against the back of Hutch's neck, making him sigh and relax.

Hutch closed his eyes, absorbing the promise of Starsky's voice, and the warmth of his touch. Hutch shivered again. He had been with women, and he had married the woman he thought was 'The One,' but only this man could make him tingle and send shivers across his spine. With every tug, every hug, every smile, every look, every word. No one had ever made him feel like this, but Hutch knew this was the only way he could have Starsky. A tear drop escaped his eyes and found its way to the pillow. He held onto Starsky's strong arms. Hutch cried for the love he longed for, and for the love he knew he will never get enough of.

4.    A Partner's Perception

Early next morning, Starsky drove Hutch to the house where he and Vanessa lived… used to live.

"You're sure you don't want me to come?" asked Starsky when Hutch was slow to get out of the car. He couldn't stop Hutch from walking into the den of a lioness, but he could at least protect Hutch from Vanessa's vicious claws.

"Yeah. I just need a change of clothes," Hutch said indifferently. "I will drive by myself to the Metro."

"I can wait," Starsky said, resting an arm on the steering wheel of the Mustang. He wasn't quite ready to let go of the person he had been holding in his arms the whole night.  Hutch's scent had moved into each and every cell of his body. He felt like he couldn't move or breathe properly if Hutch wasn't in the vicinity.  

"No. Don't." Hutch dismissed Starsky's request. He got out of the car, and was already walking away from him before Starsky had a chance to say anything else.

Starsky watched Hutch until he disappeared into the house. He stared at the closed door for another couple of minutes, tapping on the steering wheel. Was Vanessa in the house? Starsky didn't mind her malicious tongue. He was resistant to her sarcasm, but he didn't want to antagonize her any more than he had already done. The recipient of her bitter words would be Hutch. He contemplated what he should do for another minute or two, and decided to let Hutch have his way for today.

Starsky arrived at work on time, for the second day in a row. That was a record!

The first cup of coffee Starsky had at the squad room didn't awaken his senses or lift his mood as he had hoped. He sat at his desk, and started rummaging through the stacks of files. He was relieved to see that none of the reports he re-wrote yesterday had been turned back in for another round of corrections. He read over the witness statements for the Baylor case, recalling talking to Baylor, the owner of the chemical plant.

An ammonia gas leak in a cold storage warehouse had caused the death of Joe Baker, a maintenance worker, and injured another, two days ago. Federal authorities were monitoring the incident, to determine the cause of leak. The police were called in for the investigation of the death of the worker. Hutch and Starsky had been the first to arrive at the scene, and were in charge of the case. It all seemed to be an unfortunate accident, but a full investigation was needed before the death could be ruled an accident.

Starsky glanced at the wall clock every five minutes, wondering why Hutch's 'change of clothes' took so long. His eyes were on the notes Dobey had left in the files, but his vision was of the tall, distraught man who had shared his bed. Starsky nervously drummed his fingers on the desk. He realized he was biting into his lower lip when he tasted blood. How on earth was he supposed to concentrate on work when his partner wasn't beside him?

It was almost close to ten o'clock when Hutch finally arrived at the station. His eyes were red and swollen. There was a smear on his forehead, and dark brown stains on his shirt and pants. The same cream-colored shirt and light-brown pants he was wearing yesterday.

Hutch strode right past Starsky into Dobey's office without stopping to knock.

Shit! You look like something the cat dragged in, partner!

In another few minutes, Hutch walked out of the office. Starsky pushed away the files he was fidgeting with and bolted towards Hutch before he could leave the squad room.

"Hutch?" Starsky closed his hand over Hutch's, halting him. He asked what was going on, silently, but Hutch was not ready to talk. He had withdrawn into himself.

"Starsk, please, I need to be alone. I-- I cleared it with Dobey, for today." Hutch's voice was barely a whisper.

If you walk out of here, Hutch, and vanish into a blue smoke, how am I supposed to get you back?

Don't you understand that I cannot even breathe right when you are not around? Don't you understand that you are not alone in this? Don't you understand that you need me as much as I need you?

Hutch's sad blue eyes tore at Starsky's heart. He swallowed hard several times, refusing to let go of Hutch. Reluctantly, Starsky tore himself away, and watched helplessly as Hutch stumbled out of the squad room. Starsky was torn between the urge to run after his partner, and pound on the walls around him until they crumbled and disappeared, so that he could see Hutch where ever he went. 

"Starsky, I would like a word with you." Dobey's voice brought him back to the reality.

Starsky couldn't run behind Hutch. He couldn't smash a sledgehammer into walls. Instead, he walked into Dobey's office and leaned against the filing cabinet, folding his hands in front of him.

"Listen, I know you want to be with Hutch, but the man wants to be alone, and you should give him some space," Dobey said with a gentle gruffness.

Space? What space? There's no such thing called space between Hutch and me. Never had and never will!

"Get on with your assignment, now. Go interview the workers at the Baylor chemical plant. You can take the rest of the day off once you are done with it." Dobey dismissed Starsky with a wave of his hand.

***

It was close to four o'clock when Starsky was done at Baylor Chemicals. He interviewed the five employees at the warehouse, including the worker who suffered minor injuries. On his way to the station, Starsky visited the widow of Joe Baker. He called the Medical Examiner's office as soon as he got to the Station, and was informed Baker's autopsy report would be ready by tomorrow afternoon. 

Starsky left the station after updating Dobey with the progress on the case. He stopped by The Pits, the restaurant owned by their friend, Huggy Bear.

"Now what's wrong with this picture?" Huggy asked as Starsky walked into the restaurant. He was behind the bar counter, stacking the top shelf with red wine. "Where's your other half?"

"Huggy, I need the boxes, and I need them now." Starsky had called Huggy Bear earlier that day asking for help in finding packing materials. He had a strong feeling that Hutch will need them today.

"Boxes? You think I'm in the moving business now?" Huggy asked annoyingly, picking up a key from a shelf beneath him.

"Huggy, please, no time to waste."

"Are you moving to a new apartment, Starsky? You never said why you needed all these packing stuff." Huggy came out of the bar counter.

"These are for Hutch."

"Damn! Has it come to that now?" Huggy winced.

"Huggy, the boxes?" Starsky asked impatiently.

"Bring the Mustang over to the other side, behind the alley. I have them in the storage room."

"Thanks, Huggy."

Armed with boxes, Starsky drove his Mustang across town to the 'Hutchinson' residence. Hutch's old, beat up, light brown LTD was in the driveway, but Vanessa's bright yellow, expensive Corvette wasn't around. He rang the doorbell, but no one answered.

"Hutch?" Starsky called, and knocked loudly on the door with his fist. When Hutch never appeared at the door, Starsky was desperate. Was Hutch hurt?

"Hutch?" Starsky yelled. He turned the door knob. It was unlocked. Starsky pushed open the door with shaky hands, feeling his heart pounding against his ribs.

"Go away!" Hutch's familiar voice, though mixed with hint of annoyance, was sweet music to Starsky's ears.

Starsky breathed a sigh of relief. Thank God! He murmured, allowing himself a minute to regain his shattered poise before he went in search of Hutch.

Starsky walked through the entry hall. Hutch was sitting in the middle of the living room with books, records, and clothes strewn all around him. Starsky had heard about cyclones, and he knew where one had just landed. Starsky pushed past the crap on the floor to get to Hutch. He could sense the walls that were going up around Hutch's heart; walls which Starsky needed to chip away before it was too late.

"Please, go away," Hutch pleaded.

Starsky knelt beside him, looking at the chaos around him. "When did this happen?"

"Morning," Hutch said softly. He was still wearing yesterday's clothes.

Starsky couldn't even remember the last time he saw Hutch wearing the same outfit two days in a row. He noticed a dark brown box lying near Hutch. Starsky recalled seeing it when he and Hutch were in the police academy. Hutch used to write down the lyrics of the songs that were 'singing' in his head and store them in the oak box. The box had been a gift from Hutch's grandfather, on his twelfth birthday. The pages of lyrics, which were Hutch's most treasured possessions, were now carelessly tossed on the floor.

"Have you eaten anything today?" asked Starsky. He picked up the scattered sheets of music and placed them in the wooden box. He had read every song Hutch scribbled during their academy days. He wondered whether Hutch had added anything new to the box after graduating.

"I had a sandwich for lunch."

"Why don't you take a shower? I will order some pizza. I don't know about you, partner, but I'm starving," said Starsky, gently urging Hutch to get moving.

Hutch got to his feet slowly, and stumbled when he took the first step. Starsky steadied him immediately.

"What happened to your leg?" asked Starsky, noticing that Hutch was favoring one leg.

"Nothing. I think it fell asleep on me," Hutch quickly reassured him, rubbing his left leg with a grimace.

"How long have you been sittin' on your ass, huh? You look terrible, do you know that?" Starsky led Hutch to the bathroom, guiding him protectively by the elbow.

"You look no different, Starsky, what is your excuse?" said Hutch, his mouth curving in the briefest of smiles.

That shy smile of Hutch was all the medicine Starsky needed to lull the pressure that had been choking him since he arrived at Hutch's house. He felt wetness in his eyes, and gave Hutch a peck on the cheek and quick hug.

"I want a real one," Hutch sighed.

Starsky gasped when Hutch pulled him into his arms. Starsky sunk into his embrace, welcoming the warmth that surrounded him.

"I didn't want to push you away, Starsk, you know that, don't you?" Hutch said, tugging at Starsky's hair.

"Uh huh," Starsky managed, his throat tight with repressed emotion. He stood in the doorway of the bedroom, cradling Hutch's head on his shoulder, and breathing in Hutch's scent. Hutch smelled of sweat and coffee.

"How the hell did you get coffee on your shirt?" Starsky asked, pulling away slightly. He maintained the contact, keeping his left hand around Hutch's waist.

"Just a little accident," said Hutch, sheepishly.

Accident, huh? The coffee pot marched out of the kitchen and poured itself over you? 

"You ain't staying here anymore, Hutch," Starsky said distinctly. "We have work to do, but first, you need a shower, and then somethin' to eat. I have got boxes for packing. I'll get started until you are ready."

Hutch nodded and walked to the bedroom. A few minutes later he disappeared into the bathroom with a towel and a bathrobe.

Starsky walked back to the living room, and picked up the phone to order a pizza, all vegetable toppings on one half for Hutch, and everything else on the other, for himself.

***

Five boxes of books, one box of records, eight boxes of clothes, more boxes for shoes and miscellaneous items, another box for pictures and another for albums later, the packing was all done. In between filling the boxes, they had finished a large pizza and two beers.

"Let her keep everything else. I don't want any souvenirs," Hutch said wearily. He sat at the breakfast table in the kitchen with another beer in his hands.

"Let me get this straight. The house, her car, the furniture, and everything else in this house were bought by your money, correct?" asked Starsky. He cleared the table and placed the beer bottles and the empty pizza box in the trash.

"Not exactly, Starsk. Most of it was my father's money."

"It's still your money, 'Hutchinson' money. So why are you leaving everything to her?" Starsky couldn't see the logic behind Vanessa getting everything that truly belonged to Hutch.

"I don't need any of this, Starsk. I can always buy what I want, when I want it, but--"

"But you can't buy happiness," Starsky completed Hutch's sentence. "I get that crap, but I still don't see why she has to get everything when she is the one who wants to get away from you."

Hutch shrugged and got to his feet. "I'm tired, Starsk. Let's get the hell out of here."

Hutch stuffed his LTD with boxes and Starsky shoved a few more into the Mustang.  Starsky led the convoy of two over to his apartment. After unloading, Starsky followed Hutch back to the house for another set of boxes. Hutch kept two boxes of clothing and records in Starsky's apartment. The rest was stored in the garage downstairs.

Feeling emotionally drained, Hutch left the LTD in Starsky's driveway, and let Starsky drive them over to his place in the Mustang for the final check. Vanessa had returned in their absence.

"I see you have already cleared your stuff," Vanessa said with a sniff. "Couldn't wait to get away, Ken?"

"You asked me to leave." Hutch stood tall and proud. "You threw me out. What else did you expect me to do?"

Starsky didn't want to intrude. He turned around to leave, but Vanessa stopped him.

"Oh, you can wait, Dave." Vanessa held up one manicured hand. "I'm sure there's nothing you haven't heard by now, anyway," she sneered.

"You leave him out of this!" Hutch's outburst surprised both Starsky and Vanessa.

"Why should I? Everyone in the academy thought you were banging each other," Vanessa taunted. "Why should I think otherwise?"

Hutch inhaled sharply. "Vanessa!" Hutch snarled a warning at Vanessa. She was finally getting her comeuppance.

Hutch was furious. His eyes reflected the heat of the volcano that was boiling within him. Hutch's frustration and disappointment were fueling to the point of explosion.

Clenching his teeth, Starsky stepped beside Hutch, glaring at Vanessa. Any insult to his partner, and Starsky was on the warpath. No special treatment for the wife! Especially not to this wife!

"You better apologize to him right now, lady!" Starsky muttered between his teeth.

Vanessa backed off, but didn't apologize. She turned around and walked into the bedroom without so much as a backward glance.

Starsky winced at the sound of the bedroom door closing with a bang. Nicely done, Vanessa! Very classy!

"C'mon, Starsk. That's nothing new. We should leave," Hutch said. He took Starsky's elbow and pushed him towards the front door.

Once outside, Starsky walked to his Mustang and opened the driver side door.  He leaned against the door panel, resting his arm on the roof. He turned to see Hutch locking the front door behind him. It was almost midnight.

Hutch's hand lingered on the door knob for a while. Then he straightened up, pulled his shoulders back, and walked away from the house with long strides.

"You knew this would happen one day," Hutch said. "Didn't you?"

Starsky looked away, avoiding Hutch's eyes. I never wanted it to happen, Hutch!

"You knew who she was, and saw her for what she was," he continued, staring at Starsky. "You never liked her." 

Starsky sighed.  She didn't deserve you.

 "She loved the Hutchinson name and the property." Hutch leaned against the car wearily. "She didn't want to show it, Starsk, but she kind of liked you."

Starsky grit his teeth. But I didn't like her!

"Why didn't you like her, Starsk?" Hutch asked, opening the passenger side door.

Ahh... Hutch! Because every morning, I could see the marks she left on you. Marks that had nothing to do with love. Because I knew what she could do to you, and I knew how she could hurt you. Because I knew she would cut into your heart and rip it apart with her claws, leaving it in shreds.

Because I knew one day, she would break your heart.

Starsky sighed shaking his head. He got in the car, as ready as ever, to drive home.


5.    A Partner's Awareness

It was Friday night, three days since Hutch moved in with Starsky. The Baylor case was wrapped up. The autopsy report confirmed Joe Baker's death as suffocation by inhalation of ammonia fumes. No evidence of foul play. Dobey gave them the weekend off and Starsky was looking forward to spend it with his partner. Maybe they should spend the weekend away from the city. Hutch looked pale these days.

Starsky stood in front of his bedroom closet with a beer in his hand. He could hear Hutch humming softly in the shower. Half of the closet now was of Hutch's clothes. Well… almost three quarters, he grinned. Ahh, Hutch! A warm feeling engulfed Starsky's heart. Starsky pushed back Hutch's shirts so that he could close the closet door.

Hutch's presence wasn't confined to the closet, his clothes were everywhere. The bed, chairs, and by now, on the rack in the bathroom. Starsky was surprised what a slob Hutch was. He always had to pick up after Hutch. I'm surprised Vanessa didn't throw you out after the very first week you two moved in together.

Starsky shook his head. No, he wouldn't want Hutch to change his ways. Even if he was the untidiest slob that ever walked this earth, he didn't mind. This was Hutch, and this was what made Hutch, Hutch.

The telephone started to ring just when Starsky bent to pick up Hutch's socks off the bedroom floor. He walked back to the living room to answer the phone. Huggy!

"Want to write down some addresses?" Huggy asked.

Starsky wished he didn't have to, but knew better. Hutch would have to move to his own place sooner or later, and Huggy had come through as usual. Starsky took down notes about the four one-bedroom apartments Huggy had found. All four of the apartments sounded promising, except one, which was too far from work. Starsky crossed out the address of that one. The rest of them had similar specifications. Floor space around 800 square feet, six months lease agreement, which was reasonable. Price range was around two hundred and fifty per month, again something Hutch could afford. 

Hutch emerged from the shower just as Starsky replaced the receiver. He didn't ask what the phone call had been about, and Starsky didn't tell. Hutch got dressed, and waited patiently until Starsky stepped into the bathroom.

When Starsky stepped out of the steam-filled bathroom with a dark blue towel wrapped around his waist, Hutch was at the dinner table, skimming through the pages of the notepad, and tracing his eyebrows with the other hand. Starsky's heart sank. He could picture the never ending funnel of analysis Hutch was lost in at that moment.

With a heavy heart, Starsky walked into the living room and stood beside Hutch. Hutch's bleary eyes turned his way.

"You want to throw me out, too?" The sadness of Hutch's voice tore at Starsky's heart. "Is this because of what she said? About you and I-"

"Geez, Hutch." Starsky effectively cut him off. "I leave you for couple of minutes, and all you do is fill your head with crap. Do you really think I want you out of here, huh?"

"No, Starsk. I –I know. It's just-" Hutch stopped and swallowed several times.

"Hutch." Starsky gripped Hutch's shoulder. "You'll need a place for yourself. You haf'ta have a place to call your own." Starsky thought desperately for the right words to explain his actions. "Doesn't necessarily mean that you have to live there all the time."

Hutch blinked, still confused.

"You still don't get it. Do you?" Starsky sighed. He had to give a straight answer. "Hutch, you'll face all that legal mumbo-jumbo pretty soon. You have to keep your name clean." Starsky purposely avoided the word divorce.  

"And staying with you will make my name dirty?" Hutch shot back furiously.

"C'mon, Hutch. Vanessa could make it look dirty, and 'looks' matter in court." Starsky tried to use the end of the towel to dry his wet hair.

"California now has the no-fault divorce law, Starsk."

"What?" asked Starsky. He had no idea of what Hutch was talking about. What the heck was a 'no-fault' divorce law? The only divorce Starsky had first-hand experience of was during the time he was living in New York. He was barely twelve when he listened to the conversations between his mother and next door neighbor, Aunt Mathilda. Mathilda's husband was cheating on her, and she was collecting all the evidence to prove his infidelity at court. From what Starsky understood, divorce was no easy thing. One person had to do a dirty deed, and the other had to prove it.

"Divorce laws in California changed in 1970. Some States still haven't changed theirs, but in California, you don't need to establish grounds for the divorce anymore. Vanessa just has to claim 'irreconcilable differences.' Simple as that."

"Really?" Starsky was genuinely surprised. So was it that easy to get a divorce? Just walk over to the courts and say 'Hey, I can't live with the guy because we are incompatible?' Interesting!

"In that case," Starsky said after a moment of silence. "We don't need to do this now." He took the notepad away from Hutch.

"No, Starsk. We should. It still matters. With Vanessa, you may never know."

Starsky agreed. Better to be safe than sorry.

"Umm, Starsk? You are dripping all over me," Hutch complained, wiping water off his shoulders.

Starsky looked down at the mess on the floor. "Shit," he hissed, disappearing in to the bedroom. "And whose fault is that?" he yelled, looking through the mix of his and Hutch's clothes for something comfortable for the night.

"Yeah, right!" Hutch yelled back. "I'm the one who came out of the bathroom, half naked, completely wet, making puddles all over the apartment. And I'm the one, who stood right next to me, making my t-shirt wet, and- shit!" he groaned. "It is all wet." 

Starsky came back, dressed in faded red-plaid pajama bottoms and an old white t-shirt. He had missed their friendly banter during the last few days. It felt good to hear the humor back in Hutch's voice.

"Okay then, tell me why this 'I' had to come and stand next to me who's you?"

Hutch opened his mouth to make a comeback, but had none. He closed his mouth begrudgingly, accepting defeat.

"Hah," said Starsky triumphantly. "My point, exactly!"

***


Next morning, Starsky woke up to the ringing of the phone. He stumbled into the living room, and grabbed the receiver. "H-lo," he answered, still half asleep.

"I need to talk to Ken. I know he is with you."

"Vanessa?" Starsky's couldn't hide the annoyance and loathing he felt for Vanessa. This was not how he wanted to start his weekend. "He is still sleeping. I will ask him to call you back."

"I need to talk to him, now." Vanessa sounded adamant.

"Sorry, Vanessa. My partner is still asleep. He will call you back when he wakes up," said Starsky, thoroughly enjoying himself.  He couldn't resist the opportunity of taking her down a peg or two.

Vanessa must have got the message because Starsky heard the slam of the phone at the other end.

"What did she want?"

Starsky turned around. Hutch was sitting upright on the couch, watching him with sleepy eyes.

"To talk to you. Now!" Starsky walked to the kitchen to start the coffee.

***

Hutch got dressed right after he called Vanessa, long after his routine morning jog, shower, and breakfast.

"She wants to meet with me." Hutch tucked in the light blue shirt in his grey pants. He looked stunningly handsome as usual.

"She wants to get back together?" asked Starsky.

"Hardly," Hutch croaked. "Vanessa already has all the divorce proceedings figured out."

"How the hell did she do that?" Starsky raised his eye brows in disbelief. "It's only been four days since you broke up."

"Looks like she had started the procedure sometime back." Hutch couldn't keep the traces of bitterness out of his voice.

Shit!

"Hutch?" Starsky came closer, but Hutch moved away from him.

"Don't, Starsk. I can't allow myself to feel anything now. I have to meet her. I have to get this over with." Hutch was out of the apartment in a second, leaving Starsky staring at the door.

So much for planning to get away for a while. Damn you, Vanessa! Hutch was just beginning to lose that haunted look in his eyes, and now Vanessa had come back to spoil it all.

In another few minutes Starsky left the apartment. He had to check out the places Huggy had given him last night. He had to find an apartment for Hutch. 

***

Starsky returned home just before sunset. Hutch was sitting on the couch, flipping through TV channels.

"Where the hell have you been?" Hutch asked furiously as soon as Starsky stepped through the door.

"Here and there." Starsky was exhausted. He kicked his shoes off and slumped over the recliner, placing the feet on the coffee table. He rested his head on the back of the seat and closed his eyes.

Starsky had spent the day checking out rentals. He found the perfect place for Hutch, close to the canal. The bedroom was of good size and the living room was very spacious. The best feature was the deck attached to the kitchen. The owner of the canal cottage had enclosed it with glass panels and a couple of windows to let in fresh air. It was the perfect place for Hutch and his beloved plants. Starsky could picture Hutch spending hours and hours in the sun porch.

"You look terrible," Hutch said after studying Starsky for a while.

"Didn't get a chance to get my makeup done," Starsky mumbled. "What went down with her?"

"Going to settle this out of court."

Starsky's head shot up from its resting place. "Settle? How much?"

"I don't care how much, Starsk. I'm not worth that much now, anyway. Remember? My family disowned me when I graduated from the academy and decided to join the police force. Vanessa wants the house and everything in it." Hutch looked sad. "Where were you?" he asked leaning forward in the sofa, his feet firmly on the floor and his hands clasped together.

"Found a place… for you." Starsky tried to catch a reaction from Hutch, but saw none. "I'm sure you'll like it," Starsky continued. "Has 'nuff room for a greenhouse. I know you're crazy about those green things. By the way, don't you think we should bring your buddies here?" Starsky asked, resting his elbows on his knees and face on his palms.

Hutch looked up and met his partner's eyes. "There's no space left in your apartment for all those plants, Starsky. Besides, you're too tired now," he said, dismissing the cause for concern with a shrug.

"Nah, I'm fine. C'mon, let's get going. We still have the balcony. There's plenty of space there." Starsky was already on his feet. He knew how much Hutch loved his plants. He even talks to them! And he has special names for them! Starsky was sure Vanessa wouldn't pay any attention to Hutch's plants. Hutch needs happy thoughts these days. His plants would help remove that sad hollow look in his eyes. "C'mon, partner." Starsky gently tugged at Hutch.

They drove to Vanessa's house, the house that was Hutch's home just a couple of days ago. Starsky glanced at the neat bungalow, wondering whether Vanessa was in or not. Hutch seemed to care less as he walked towards his outdoor greenhouse, on the right side of the garage.

Starsky followed his partner and almost collided with him when Hutch came to an abrupt halt. He heard a gasp.

"No- No," Hutch said in a pained whisper.

Starsky looked past Hutch at the devastation. Crushed and chopped plants, broken pots. The ruthless destruction was unbelievable. Starsky tried to inhale, but the air stuck somewhere in his chest. How could someone be so cruel to destroy the essence of living? Oh God, Hutch!

Starsky couldn't move until he saw Hutch falling to his knees, and throwing up. In a flash, Starsky sank down with him, cradling Hutch's forehead with his arm.

"Easy Babe, easy now." Starsky held him tight until Hutch's spasms calmed. Hutch dry heaved a couple of times even after his stomach was empty before he collapsed onto Starsky's chest. Starsky pulled a handkerchief out of the pocket of his jeans and gently wiped off Hutch's face.

Hutch choked back a sudden sob. "They are gone. All gone, Starsk. She killed all of them. How could she?" Tears rolled off his cheeks.

Starsky didn't say that it was going to be okay, because it was never going to be all right. That was a part of Hutch's life, and Vanessa had sucked the life out of him.

Go to hell, Vanessa! Starsky thought silently. I'm sure there's a special place reserved for people like you.

Starsky sat in the plant strewn greenhouse with his arm around Hutch, quietly supporting his friend in his grief. "Hutch, she might come back sometime, and we don't want to be here, I think."

"Oh-" Hutch looked up and picked up the remains of a fern. The leaves were pulled off the roots. The rest of the plant lay nearby, chopped to pieces. Hutch staggered to his feet, and Starsky guided him to the Mustang. Starsky drove back home with Hutch huddled up against the door.

With his arm around Hutch's shoulder, Starsky helped Hutch into the apartment where he collapsed on the couch, curling up in a ball. Starsky made dinner, but Hutch didn't eat. Starsky turned on the TV. Hutch didn't even seem to be there.

Starsky sat on the floor at the couch and ran his hand over Hutch's hair.

We'll start over, Hutch. I promise! I will help you look after them next time.


6.    A Partner's Love

It was Monday. Hutch stood in the middle of his new canal side cottage. He had signed the lease that morning, and Starsky had helped move some of his belongings in after their shift was over. The walls were painted in light yellow, and it felt bright and cheery, even at night. One nice thing about this place was that it had enough lighting, so that every nook and cranny was bright.

A place he could call his home, a comfort zone where he could throw his socks when he takes them off. Well… I did that when I was at Starsky's apartment, and Starsky never complained.

A place where he gets his mail, the place where he can crash when everything else fails. Hmm… wouldn't that be Starsky's place?

Hutch mentally placed the furniture in each room. A dining table with six chairs would easily fit between the kitchen and living room. A middle sized sofa and two comfy chairs in the living room would be nice. The TV could stay close to the sofa. He would need a coffee table because his partner always put his feet up when he sat on the sofa.

The kitchen had a full size stove, fridge, and a lot of shelf space. Hutch loved cooking, and he could make some good, healthy meals for Starsky, something he had not been able to do while living with Vanessa. Starsky eats too much junk!

A week ago, Hutch had been standing in the middle of the living room of the house he'd shared with Vanessa, with his belongings scattered all over the floor. Today, he was again standing in the middle of a living room, but in his new cottage, surrounded by the same belongings, neatly packed in boxes. Within a week, he had gone from married to 'soon-to-be-single,' and moved from his own house to a rental. He had lost everything he believed in. Love, marriage, trust, and his plants!

Starsky had been correct. The sun porch was the best feature of the cottage. There was even enough space for a small breakfast table and two chairs. On weekends, Starsky and I can have our coffee here. He could picture them sitting in the bright porch, surrounded with tall green plants, the sun shining through the glass panels, and wind blowing through the small windows. They could read the morning papers, catching up with the news. This is going to be perfect. Hutch sighed.

"Hey, Hutch," Starsky called out, dumping a box that contained books in the living room. Starsky placed his hands on his hips and arched backwards, stretching his back muscles to get the stiffness out. "You know you can stay with me until you get your bed, right?"

"What happens after I buy the bed?" Hutch turned to face his partner. He had his own place, but he didn't want to live here by himself. He didn't want to be away from Starsky. He wanted Starsky by his side, twenty-four hours a day, and seven days a week. He wished Starsky was living here with him or vice versa. Dream on, Hutchinson! You can't live with Starsky!

"After you get your bed and a sofa for me, I'll crash in your apartment, buddy. I need a vacation!" Starsky said with a hint of laughter in his twinkling blue eyes.

Hutch laughed softly. I haven't lost anything after all. I have Starsky. I have his love, friendship, and trust. I have Starsky in my life. He's everything I'll ever need. I have not lost anything!

"Have you checked your greenhouse?" Starsky asked, walking to the kitchen. He opened the fridge and peeked inside. 

Hutch had brought a case of beer over earlier when they had dropped off the first load of boxes. Starsky grabbed two bottles and handed one to Hutch. He twisted open the lid of his. 

"What's to check? I don't have any plants to go in there." The dull ache that had crept into Hutch's chest when he witnessed the untimely death of his plants was not going away anytime soon.

"Then check the space." Starsky pushed Hutch towards the little sunroom.

"I saw it all when you brought me here yesterday," Hutch grumbled as he was forcibly pushed into the sunroom. "Starsk?" Hutch stopped at the entrance of the porch. The room that had been barren the day before wasn't empty anymore. His partner had selected the perfect house warming gift for him. So this was why Starsky disappeared during lunch time!

Sunshine was back in Hutch's life, and it was here to stay.

"I don't know anything about plants, Hutch, and I don't remember any of their names. I'm sure you know which they are, so don't ask me names," Starsky said touching the closest plant hesitantly.

Enveloped with love radiating from his partner, Hutch nodded. He slipped his arm loosely around Starsky's shoulder, afraid to speak in case this was all but a dream and he'd wake up to find it gone.

"This's for leaving bad stuff behind." Starsky stood in front of a Peace Lily.

A Peace Lily for making peace with the past. Ahh, Starsky. Who else on earth would have thought of something like this?

Starsky turned towards the next, "This lady here's for living with what you have. Nothing more, nothing less."

"That's a Spider plant," Hutch said gruffly, for the present, to live in the moment.

Starsky knelt beside an Aglaonema."This one's for the good that's waiting for you."

Aglaonemas, Chinese Evergreens, a symbol for 'good luck,' for the future that waits. Starsky may act as if he didn't know a thing about plants, but Hutch knew better. Starsky had his reasons for selecting these particular ones for him.

Starsky stood at the tallest out of the four, a ZZ plant, gently running his fingers over the shiny foliage. "And this, partner," Starsky murmured softly. "This is for us, and for everything that brought us together, and for everything that'll keep us together."

The ZZ was also called the Eternity plant, and Starsky chose it to represent them. Just by chance? Hutch didn't think so. A ZZ plant for us that binds the past, present and future together.

"Umm, Starsk? Can you name this for me?" Hutch asked, picking up the ZZ. He had already picked names for the others.

"Geez, Hutch, don't tell me you already named the others," Starsky said, amused.

Hutch smiled shyly. "Lily, Miss Muffet, and Hope, but I can't think of a name for the ZZ."

"What do you college boys call it?" Starsky looked at the plant Hutch was holding.

"You mean its botanical name? It is a ZZ. Zamioculcas Zamiifolia."

"Why the heck would anyone name it with all those Zs?" Starsky drew his eyebrows together, as if disapproving of the name. What did he know about plants, anyway? "You can call it three Zs, or- Zeezeezee. Ahh, I know." Starsky snapped his fingers. His eyes shone as if he just unraveled his Christmas gift. "What about Zebra three?" "Zebra? Three? It doesn't even look like a Zebra and the name has only two Zs," Hutch commented, confused. "You said something like Zee Zee Zamicolon, something, right? And Z is for Zebra, what else?" Starsky asked as if it was a given, and that Hutch should've known it all along. Hutch chuckled. "Never mind, buddy, I'll call it Zebra Three. Sounds good to me." He placed the ZZ back on the floor.  "Any reason why you got this for 'us'?" Hutch knew how hardy a ZZ was. It was one of the most durable and toughest plants. ZZ's could survive any non-livable condition.  It wasn't easy to kill one. "It looked sexy, just like us," Starsky responded with a nod and a mischievous grin.

Hutch smiled. Hutch could just hear Starsky's voice at the garden center. "Show me a hard-ass plant."

"Sexy, huh?" Hutch leaned towards Zebra Three. "You are my favorite," he whispered.

7.    A Partner's Pillow Talk

Hutch's new cottage was coming along nicely. He had purchased a few pieces of furniture.  He had set the breakfast table, which also served as the dinner table, close to the kitchen. Hutch considered the king sized brass bed the most important piece of all. It had been delivered earlier that day, and had taken a lot of effort to get in through the front door. The frame and mattress had cost Hutch a fortune, but like Starsky said, it is a one-time purchase. The bed was in the middle of the bedroom, with the sheets neatly tucked in. Hutch hated buying sheets, but when he'd seen the cream colored bed linens at JC Penney's, he knew those were the ones he could live with. Starsky had made the bed so beautifully that it looked like one in a 5-star hotel. Hutch had to admit, his partner was full of surprises.

Hutch glanced up at the clock impatiently. It was close to eleven pm. He'd been waiting for Starsky for nearly an hour now. After the 'housekeeping' duties at Hutch's apartment, Starsky had gone home with the promise that he'd return with some of his clothes. If he was going to spend the night with Hutch, in the new place, he would need some work clothes for the morning. Starsky should consider leaving some of his stuff in Hutch's apartment. It would save him a lot of time. Hutch thought about clearing out a drawer of the dresser for his partner. That was the sensible thing to do. Right? After all, Hutch had left some of his jeans and t-shirts at Starsky's place.

Just as Hutch was going from anxious to downright worried that something might have happened, Starsky arrived with a small duffel bag and a bottle of champagne.

He was grinning from ear to ear. "A brand new home with a brand new bed. This calls for a celebration, Hutch."

"I don't have any glasses, buddy," Hutch said apologetically.

Starsky wiggled his eyebrows and grinned. He pulled out two wine glasses from his duffel bag. "I brought these. Not the proper glasses for champagne, but I think this'll do," he said, setting them on the breakfast table.

Starsky opened the bottle carefully, not allowing a drop to spill over. He poured the champagne into the two glasses, handing one to Hutch. Taking the other, Starsky clinked his glass with Hutch's. "For new beginnings, partner."

Hutch looked directly into his friend's dark blue eyes. "To my best friend." He took a long drink, the bubbles fizzing on his tongue. "Hey," Starsky warned, raising his hand, although his eyes glowed with tenderness and emotion. "No soapy scenes."

A slow smile spread across Hutch's face. Who are you trying to fool, Starsky? 

"Why don't we sit somewhere, huh?" asked Starsky, looking around the still empty apartment. He drained his glass and smacked his lips.

"Go ahead, buddy. There are so many places to choose from." He had two chairs at the breakfast table, but Starsky opted to sit on the floor, leaning against the partition wall between the bedroom and the living room.

"Do you think we can finish this now?" Hutch asked, holding up the bottle with the remaining champagne.

"Sure! Why not? Wouldn't taste better even if we save it, you know."

After pouring more wine into each glass, Hutch joined Starsky on the floor. He sat close to Starsky, shoulder to shoulder, with his legs stretched out. He was silent for a moment, reflecting upon his close relationship with his partner. With Starsky by his side, the future didn't look bleak anymore. It may even look bright in a month from now. Starsky had been his strength. He had carried Hutch through the worst of days.

"Feels good," said Hutch, breaking the silence. "Feels good to have my own place, my own bed." Hutch nudged Starsky on his ribs. "My own friend!"

Starsky groaned. "Will you stop that, Hutch? I haven't done anythin' you wouldn't have done if the roles were reversed," he said, sipping champagne.

Hutch draped his hand around Starsky and squeezed gently. "I know, but I had to say it, buddy. You mean everything to me."

***

Hutch smiled. It felt damn good to share his new bed with his partner. Tomorrow, Starsky would go back to his apartment, and Hutch will sleep here, by himself. For now, he was determined to have Starsky close to him as long as possible.

Starsky lay on his back, resting his head on his folded arms. Hutch snuggled into the comfort of his friend. Starsky stretched his right arm and pillowed Hutch's head on his shoulder, his palm resting on Hutch's chest. Hutch closed his eyes and sank into the feeling of safety, sighing with contentment. The heat of Starsky's arm burned right through him. He stroked Starsky's fingers, tracing the veins that ran along his arm.

Starsky twitched his arm. "You're tickling me," he said with a half a giggle. 

"Mmm?" Hutch asked without opening his eyes.

"Tickling," Starsky said louder.

"Ohh, sorry." Hutch stopped the tracing for a moment, but when Starsky didn't say anything else, Hutch ran his finger the length of one bluish vein. 

Hutch didn't know what to do with all these feelings that were choking him. He had always loved Starsky with tender and passionate affection. A love that was built with trust, friendship, and integrity. Then somewhere during their academy days, that affection had turned into something more. A romantic love coupled with sexual desire. Hutch never understood those feelings properly. He never tried to analyze the emotions that filled him because he was in love with Vanessa, or so he thought.  He had thought Vanessa loved him, so he hadn't been ready to consider anyone else. It had taken time for Hutch to realize that all she cared about was his money and name.

What am I going to do with all what I'm feeling for you, Starsky? I know I can't get rid of this desire. Do you feel the same for me? I know you love me. I can see it in your eyes. I can feel it the way you touch me, but are you 'in love' with me? Hutch sighed.

You'd never forgive me if you knew what was on my mind. That I have been lusting over you for years. Although, I never really understood what those feelings were until the day you held me the whole night.

"Hutch?" Starsky sighed. "We aren't gonna sleep if you keep on doing that. What's the problem? Don't tell me you can't sleep, 'cause I won't believe ya. We finished a whole bottle of champagne."

Hutch banished that heartbreaking train of thoughts. "Well, you drank most of it."

"You kept talking. Someone had to finish it."

"I'm not sleepy yet. Not my fault."

"We have to work tomorrow, Hutch, so you better get some sleep." Starsky tugged up the blankets and turned on his side. "I'm your partner, and you ain't getting any bedtime stories from me."

Hutch grunted. "No one read stories to me when I was a kid either, Starsk." Hutch's father had told him real men didn't need anyone to hold their hands to go to sleep. Real men didn't need bedtime stories. Stories and fairy tales were for the weak.

"You want me to tell you a story?" Starsky asked softly after a long silence.

"Really? You will?" asked Hutch. Man, we are drunk! He sensed a grin forming on Starsky's face.

"Sure. Close your eyes and listen," Starsky ordered, getting more comfortable by sitting up with a pillow at his back.

"Okay," said Hutch. He was going to listen to the story and sleep. He had to free his mind of all 'Starsky' thoughts. Hutch closed his eyes, wishing his father could see him now.

Starsky began, "Once upon a time there lived a beautiful princess-"

"No-" Hutch cut him off quickly. "Don't want to hear about beautiful princesses. Start with someone different." He had more than enough trouble with one woman, and didn't want any in his story.

"Okay then, once upon a time there lived a beautiful prince called Prince Charming. He lived in this huge castle with his parents, the king and the queen. He was tall, cute, and charming as can be. He had soft golden hair." Starsky bent his arm and ran his fingers into Hutch's hair. "He had beautiful blue eyes, so beautiful and so blue that you could dive into those icy blue pools and never come back," Starsky said with a dreamy wistfulness. "Prince Charming had everything-"

"No-" Hutch interrupted again. "Tell me more about how beautiful the prince is."

Did Starsky just describe me? Did he mean what he said? That he would like to get lost in my eyes?

"Shhhh." Starsky put a finger to his lips. "You are supposed to sleep, so shhhh. I already told you how beautiful he is. That's enough! Now, where was I? Oh, yeah, so the charming Prince Charming had everything in his life. Everything he wanted and could ever wish for, but you know, all he ever wanted was to spend time in the jungle."

Now where did that come from? "What jungle?" asked Hutch. Starsky's fingers were so close to his mouth. If he turned his head a little bit to the right, maybe, just maybe, he could brush his lips against those fingers?

Starsky moved his hand away from Hutch's face as if he sensed Hutch's intentions, sighing impatiently. "The one that was behind their castle, Hutch. Don't you know? All castles are built near monster jungles. So, like I said, he always crept into the jungle where he had a lot of, umm… strange friends. Most of them were green. You know, with leaves and stuff growing in them and all. Now I don't know what the heck Prince Charming saw in them because they were just sittin' there all day long, doing nothin,' but Charming had a way with them. He would talk to them, and he heard them because he spoke their language. He was kind of magical that way, you know."

Ahh... this is going to be one swell story. Hutch sighed happily.

"One day in the jungle, when he was wandering around and talking to his friends, he met this beautiful princess."

There he goes again. "Princess? No- he didn't meet any princesses. I told you there are no princesses in this story."

"Hey, who's tellin' the story here?" Starsky asked, annoyed. He crossed his arms, jutting out his chin.

"You are," said Hutch. "But I'm telling you that he didn't meet a princess. Instead he… he met another prince." You better find a way to talk about the prince, Starsk!

"Well," Starsky exclaimed. "Since this is your first bedtime story, I will allow a sex change, just for you. So he didn't meet a princess 'cause there were no princesses anywhere close to Charming's castle.  Too bad for him! He could'a had so much o' fun." Starsky sneered. "Alright, one day, he met this handsome Prince Handsome, who was breathtakingly gorgeous, intelligent, wise, sexy-"

Hutch groaned.

"Now what?" Starsky asked impatiently.

"Will you get to the story without talking about that sexy, smartass?" True, he didn't want to hear about princesses, but did Starsky have to go into such lengthy descriptions about this Handsome? Especially when Hutch was doing his best to keep his thoughts and hands away from the sexy smartass lying next to him. 

"If you don't shut up, I'm not tellin' you any stories," threatened Starsky.

"Okay, okay. No more interruptions." Hutch said, throwing his arms up in the air.

"So, Prince Handsome rode this beeuuutiful black horse, so fast and sleek, with a coat so shiny. His mustang could have blinded any roaming eye."

"What about Prince Charming? Didn't he ride a horse?" asked Hutch. Surely he was entitled to ask a question or two during a bedtime story, right?

"Oh, yeah, I forgot, he actually had one. I wouldn't call it a horse though. You see, he had no taste in horses. Had this retired beat up ol' draft horse that couldn't even be called a horse anymore."

Hutch bit into his lower lip. There was a hint of a sneer in that somewhere. Wasn't there? "Why did I even ask?" he muttered.

"That's what happens when you open your big mouth. Now shut up, or the bedtime story will end right here. So, where was I?" asked Starsky.

"Handsome, and his mustang," prompted Hutch quickly, lying back on his own pillow.

"Prince Handsome and Prince Charming became friends very quickly, and they started to spend all their time together. They rode their horses, but most of the time they were on Handsome's mustang, of course! They had lots of fun." Starsky propped his knees, making small hills under the blankets. "Man, Hutch. It is awfully hard to talk about fun when there isn't a princess." Starsky sighed in frustration. "Oh, well. Let's say they just had fun. When the time came for them to take on their future roles, they decided to go to Fighting Camp."

"Fighting camp? Now what the hell is that?" Hutch turned his head to look at Starsky.

"Do I have to explain everything here? That is where the princes learn to fight, and shoot and learn all that stuff needed to be prepared in case of a war." Starsky glared at him, a frown turning down the corners of his mouth.

"Ah, Okay. Hmm – Fighting camp, eh?" Hutch wanted to reach over and wipe the scowl off Starsky's face. A soft touch, a small kiss, maybe if I-- 

"Yes! Anyway, in the Fighting Camp, they were the best co- I mean, errr… best fighters anyone had ever seen. The two friends excelled in everything they did, and they came through with flying colors."

Did Starsky say 'yes' for the kiss? Hutch shook his head.

"After completing the training, Prince Handsome went to his home, which was in another part of the country, and Prince Charming went back to his castle."

Wait a minute. Something was not right in the story. "They weren't together?" asked Hutch, confused.

"No. Not yet. They had stuff to do, like, you know, Prince Charming was supposed to be the king of the country for crying out loud. So Prince Charming went back home to become king. He ruled the country for some time, but he was so sad, miserable, and lonely-"

"He missed Handsome, didn't he? Did Handsome miss Charming, too?" Hutch snuggled in a little bit closer. He wasn't planning to go anywhere without Starsky.

"You bet he did." Starsky untangled his arms from their folded position around his chest. He looped his left around Hutch. "But he couldn't go to Prince Charming because, well, umm…" Starsky thought for a while. "Prince Charming's father didn't like him at all. So Handsome had to stay away. And you know what Prince Charming did? He gave up the kingdom, he gave up being king, and he went in search of Prince Handsome. He found his Handsome, fighting bad guys, crooks, and villains. So Prince Charming joined him and they started saving the world, one day at a time." Starsky inhaled and exhaled deeply, signaling the end of the story.

Hutch was very disappointed. "Is that it?"

"Aren't you sleepy yet?" asked Starsky irritably.

"No, where's the rest of the story?"

"What do you mean the rest of it? They are still saving the world, you know. There are lots of bad guys out there."

"Hey, that's not fair!" This was no way to end the story. It was true that no one read him any fairy tales, but he had heard plenty from his sister. Karen used to come and sit with him in the afternoon, when their parents were away playing golf, and tell him every story she knew. Karen's stories always ended happily, with love. Didn't the prince always kiss the- Oh! Right. There aren't any princesses in this story, but maybe Handsome kissed Charming because he was so damn happy to have his friend back.

"Hey." Hutch nudged Starsky to keep him awake, and waited until he saw one blue eye glaring at him. "I'm waiting for the story."

"No wonder you never heard any bedtime stories when you were a kid, and I'm such a damn pushover," Starsky muttered under his breath. "Let me think for a while." He sounded close to falling asleep. "Oh, umm, Charming and Handsome." Starsky took a deep breath and turned from his side to lie on his back closing his eyes again. "Like I said, the two friends were inseparable. They worked together so well that no one wanted to cross their paths. And you know that never sits well with crooks, so they came up with a plan to separate Prince Charming and Handsome from each other. They kidnapped Prince Handsome."

Hutch groaned, but Starsky continued his story.  

"The kidnappers took Prince Handsome to a far faraway place and locked him in a dark cave." Starsky ran his fingers through his own hair while thinking.

"But they didn't harm him, did they?" Hutch asked.  He turned on his right side and faced Starsky.

"Well, what do you expect, Hutch? They were mean kidnappers."

"Why did Prince Handsome have to get kidnapped? Why didn't they take Charming and beat him to death if they wanted to?  Why did it have to be Handsome? "

"Hey, don't blame me. That's what happened."  Starsky grunted. "Anyway, Prince Handsome was locked up in a dark cave and the key was thrown into a pond so that no one can ever find it. And before you ask, yes! There was a pond near the cave, a very deep one, too. You cannot even see the bottom." Starsky paused, frowning while he thought and poked at the pillow behind his back.

Hutch groaned again. As if hiding him in some Goddamn cave wasn't enough!

"When Prince Charming found out what happened to Handsome, all hell broke loose. No one had heard or seen him. Handsome had vanished into thin air."

Where was Starsky taking the story? Neither of them had ever been kidnapped, but the perils reminded Hutch the risks associated with their line of duty. He didn't like the intrusion of real life into his fantasy. Did Starsky know something he didn't? Had someone ever tried to get Starsky? Maybe when he was in the army in Vietnam? 

"So, Charming went back home to his jungle to meet his friends and talk to them," Starsky said, bringing Hutch back to the story. "I told you Charming had special powers. He went home and asked his green friends for help." Starsky moved his legs out from under the blanket. "I need to cool off Hutch, I'm thirsty." Starsky hopped out of the bed and went into the kitchen. "Do you want any water?" He yelled, turning on the faucet.

"No," said Hutch. Talk about cooling off? Yeah, he would like to cool off too. Starsky was too hot!

Starsky climbed back to the bed. He had spilled some water on his t-shirt, just below his chin. His lips glistened with moisture. Starsky licked his lips and continued the story. "So Charming's green friends, talked to other green friends of theirs and learned where Prince Handsome was being held."

Hutch couldn't tear his eyes off Starsky's lips. Damn it! He would never sleep with these fantasies about Starsky's lips and what they could do. He could feel the warm wetness of Starsky's lips on his cheeks, on his neck, on his lips-

"Hutch, are you listening?" Starsky jabbed his finger into his ribs.

"Huh?" Hutch tore his eyes away from Starsky's lips up to those indigo eyes. Those heavy eyelids and dark eyelashes! Hutch gulped nervously, feeling the heat creeping into his face. Did Starsky read his mind? He closed his eyes for a minute. "Yes! Umm, yes, I errr... I was just wondering how those plants, err… friends, communicated with each other." 

"You should know that better than I," Starsky snorted. "The green friends tipped off Prince Charming all about the cave and the key. So Charming took Handsome's mustang, 'cause you know Charming's horse couldn't travel ten feet without coughin' and splutterin' and fallin' to his knees. And you would think this would have been a good lesson for him."

Why does he have to talk about my LTD- I mean, my horse! Hutch snorted. "Just leave Charming's horse out if this, will you?"

"So, there he was." Starsky held up one finger like a puppet, moving him along the hillocks made by his knees under the sheets. "A white knight who took to the jungle to save his beloved friend, stopping only to allow the horse to eat and drink. He discovered the cave and the pond. He jumped into that pond, even when he knew how deep it was. He risked his ass to find the key, and save Handsome from an untimely death." Starsky moved his finger onto Hutch's left arm, but stopped in the middle.

Hutch was disappointed when Starsky just curled his fingers and removed them from his arm.

"No one should mess with a man's partner," Hutch said softly, wishing Starsky had moved his fingers along Hutch's arms, onto his face on to his-- Stop it, Hutchinson!

"That's right, partner!" Starsky snuggled into his sheets and closed his eyes.   

"So where are the bad guys now?" Hutch asked, pushing away the wild thoughts that were dancing in mind. 

"Locked up in a place where they'll never see daylight again."

"Charming and Handsome?" He didn't want Starsky to fall asleep, yet. Not before the happy ending.

Starsky yawned. "They're still catchin' bad guys, and savin' the world, one day at a time."

"And they lived happily ever after?" Hutch asked, ready to make up his own happy ending if Starsky didn't finish the story.

"Uh huh!" mumbled Starsky.

"Did they live happily ever after, together?" Hutch asked again. Starsky snored, softly. Damn! Starsky had fallen asleep.

Maybe he could get Starsky to tell him another story tomorrow. A different kind of story. Maybe he'll ask Starsky to start where he stopped today. To talk about how Charming and Handsome lived happily ever after, together.

Hutch smiled. He wasn't getting his couch delivered anytime in the future.


8.    A Partner's Heartaches

Stakeouts stink!

Hutch looked out of the window of his LTD, wishing Starsky would hurry up with the coffee. How long did it take to walk two blocks to Mario's diner to get two cups of coffee? Maybe he had to use the bathroom.

The word on the street was that Jeff Boyd, the owner of J&B Furniture, received narcotics stuffed in cushioned chairs. According to Johnny, one of their most trusted informants, a new shipment of chairs was going to be delivered to the store sometime this week.

Hutch looked at his watch. It was four thirty in the afternoon. Another two hours to kill before their replacement arrived. They had been sitting in Hutch's LTD behind an alley, watching the warehouse since morning. Two teams covered twelve-hour shifts each day, but so far no deliveries had been made.

Something was bothering Starsky, Hutch could tell. His boisterous and vivacious partner had not said much during the past couple of days. It had to be something more than being bored and stuck in a car behind an alley for three days.

When was it that he first noticed the change in Starsky? A week before? It had been a week since Hutch moved into canal cottage. Starsky had stayed with him the very first day the bed was delivered, just like he had promised. Hutch had planned on getting another 'bedtime story' out of him the next day, but Starsky had gone back to his apartment. What was his excuse? Hutch couldn't remember. The next time Starsky spent the night at Hutch's apartment was right after the rest of the living room furniture was delivered, three days ago.  Starsky had claimed the couch as his bed, and Hutch never got his second story.

"Any movement?" Starsky came back with two Styrofoam cups filled with steaming coffee. He gave Hutch one through the window and crawled into the LTD.

"Well," said Hutch, setting his coffee on the floorboard between his feet. He pretended to go through his notes. "A big white cat ran across the street, followed by a big brown dog."

"Do you think Johnny got it wrong this time?" Starsky drank some coffee and stared into the cup. "We have been wasting our fucking time for three days."

What? No smart comeback? Hutch stole a quick glance at Starsky. "He had never been wrong before."

"There's a first time for everything," Starsky hissed, looking out the windshield.

Hutch stared at the building ahead, realizing Starsky had not been on a date since Hutch's troubles with Vanessa surfaced. Wasting 'fucking' time, and 'first time' for everything. No pun intended.

Was Starsky seeing anyone before all this happened? Hutch couldn't remember.

I have been damn selfish all this time, hanging onto him, demanding every minute of his time. I think he is sick of me!

***

Hutch ordered a chicken salad and a beer at The Pits. Starsky decided on the house-special burger with two beef patties, grilled onion, and whole lot of toppings that Hutch didn't want to know about. Starsky also ordered French fries and a beer.

"Hutch?" Starsky broke the silence. "Can you drop me off at my apartment?"

What's your excuse today, Starsk? "Sure." Hutch hoped he hid his disappointment.

"Great! I need to go see Al and Rosie."

"Is anything wrong?" asked Hutch. Al was Starsky's uncle and Rosie was his aunt. Starsky had grown up under their care from the time he was thirteen.

"No, no. Nothing's wrong. I promised I would stop by today. Haven't seen them in ages."

"You know we have to be back on duty at the warehouse at six thirty in the morning," Hutch reminded him.

"I'll spend the night at Al's. Might be better." Starsky shrugged off Hutch's concerns. "I will get back to the apartment in the morning. Pick me up at six, like today."

***

Starsky had not planned on visiting his relatives. It was a fib, and as soon as the words were out of his mouth, he felt guilty of lying to his partner. He turned the lie into the truth by going over to visit Al and Rosie. He didn't spend the night with them, but returned to his apartment after dinner. 

It was close to midnight. He'd spent too long watching the game between Chargers vs. Broncos, with Al. It was a good game and Chargers had won, but now he was exhausted. All he needed was twelve hours of sleep, but would have to settle for six. Hutch would be at his door to pick him up in the morning. He hated stakeouts.

Starsky opened the door to his apartment and switched on the lights. His partner was stretched out on the couch. Ah, Hutch! What are you doing here? Couldn't sleep again?

"Starsk?" Hutch pushed himself up, rubbing his eyes to get rid of the sleepiness.

"What's wrong?" asked Starsky, still standing at the door.

"Wanted to tell you. Ross and James got JB after we left. Clean bust. Five kilos of the stuff. Dobey gave us a day off."

Starsky nodded. "That's great!" He kicked off his shoes, removed his wallet from the pocket and placed it on the dining table with his car keys. "You could'a called me in the morning, Hutch. Shouldn't have driven all the way just for that."

Hutch's jaw tightened. He slipped into his shoes and bent to tie the laces. "You said you would be staying at Al's place. I called them, but you had already left." He sounded annoyed.

"Where the hell do you think you are going?" asked Starsky.

"Home. I just wanted to make sure you got the message. Wasn't planning on spending the night here." Hutch sounded dejected and defeated.

"Are you nuts? What's going on, Hutch?" Starsky asked, feeling bewildered. He sat beside Hutch on the couch. There is no reason to drive home at this hour when you could just sleep here.

Hutch instantly stood up and moved away from Starsky. "Why don't you tell me, Starsk?" he spat. "You have been avoiding me for days and days now, like I'm contagious." Hutch's eyes were blazing with anger.

You are contagious, Hutch! Starsky hung his head. No- we can't talk about this now. He had been trying to distant himself from Hutch to get his feelings under control. Feelings he had buried a long time ago when they were in the academy. He had accepted the fact that Hutch belonged to Vanessa and learned to live with it. But… the night Vanessa left Hutch changed everything. Holding Hutch so close and feeling his warm body relaxing with Starsky's touch, responding to his caresses had been too much to ignore. It just took one night to bring back all those buried emotions.

How can I tell you that I can't stay in the same room with you without touching you? I want to kiss you until you can't breathe. I want to strip you naked and taste every inch of you, make love to you until neither of us can see straight. I want that forever, Hutch. Not just for one night, one week, or one month. I want it forever.

I want a whole different life of us together. I want all of you, your love, and your soul. But I know… that is not what you want from me, Hutch. You want comfort and security. You want to feel loved. You may even fool yourself to think that you are in love with me, when all you need right now is a sanctuary to nurse your wounded soul.  You are confused with everything.

I have to be strong, and I have to know where to draw the line, but Hutch, it is damn fucking difficult.

He had to do what was right for both of them. This was not a time to give into his heart's desire and make a mess out of things. One of them had to be strong, and Starsky knew that had to be him.

"Please, Hutch. I'm tired, and I don't know what to say, but don't go. Just stay here. We'll talk tomorrow. I'm tired. Please!" Limp with fatigue, he rested his head on the back of the sofa.

Hutch was silent, and walked to the bedroom reluctantly. He came back with a pillow and a blanket for himself, which he threw on the couch. "You look terrible, Starsk. Go. Get some sleep," he said, touching Starsky's cheek gently.

***

Starsky woke up to the smell of freshly brewed coffee, and French toast? He lay on his bed staring at the ceiling and listening to the noises coming from the kitchen. Dragging himself out of the bed, he walked out of the room.

Hutch stood in the kitchen, pouring coffee into two coffee mugs, singing softly to himself.

No, I can't forget this evening- or your face as you were leaving,
But I guess that's just the way the story goes.
You always smile, but in your eyes your sorrow shows.
Yes, it shows. No, I can't forget tomorrow.
When I think of all my sorrows.
When I had you there, but then I let you go,
And now it's only fair that I should let you know,
What you should know.

Harry Nilsson's single that came out two years ago. Is he thinking of Vanessa?  

'That I should let you know- what you should know.' I wish I could let you know what you should know, too, Hutch!  "Hey," Starsky called out when Hutch stopped singing.

Hutch turned around. His face lit up with that angel smile of his. "Hey, there," he said with a hint of a sadness. "Why did you come back last night, Starsk? Weren't you planning to stay at Rosie's?"

Ahh, that smile. Starsky could wake up to that any time of the day. By the way, what was the time? He could do with another hour or two of sleep. 

"Didn't want to taste too much of Rosie's special cuisines," Starsky said, walking to the bathroom. Wanted to make sure I was close to you, even though I wasn't planning to be with you. Starsky splashed some water in his face, rinsed his mouth, and got back to the kitchen.

Hutch had the coffee ready. Starsky sat at the table, taking long, slow sips of his drink. He closed his eyes enjoying the warm caress of the bitter liquid as it went down his throat. He was aware of Hutch's eyes burning holes on his soul. Starsky felt the tension creeping back along his spine, neck and into his head.

"This is good," Starsky said raising the coffee mug, trying to make some small talk. "What're your plans today?"

Hutch tore his eyes away from Starsky and stood up. He walked over the sink. "Vanessa wants to meet with me," he said, rinsing his cup.

There goes the day, again! Why did she have to ruin everything?

"What for?" Starsky asked. Was that the real reason why Hutch came here in the middle of the night?

Hutch stood at the sink, drying his hands with a towel. Starsky waited patiently for Hutch to speak.

When the silence became intolerable, Starsky walked over to Hutch, and leaned against the counter beside the sink. "Hutch? What is it?" What did Vanessa want now?

"I'm meeting with her for lunch. She wants to update me on the proceedings." Hutch was still staring fixedly at the sink.

"But nothing can be done until you are served with the papers, right?" Starsky said, recalling Hutch telling him about the divorce procedures last week after meeting with his lawyer. What was his name? Bryan? Benson?

"Yes, but at this point, all I can do is play it safe. That's what Brendon told me. Just talk to her if she wants to, keep things light as possible, and see what's on her mind."

"So now you run over to her whenever she snaps her fingers?" Starsky couldn't keep the anger away.

"I'll do whatever it takes," Hutch said sharply, turning to face Starsky. "Don't you dare judge me, partner. I have to go through this, I have to face the-" He stopped, clenching his teeth.  "What do you care, anyway? You can't wait to get away from me either." He pushed past Starsky, walking from the kitchen into the living room.

"Hutch, wait." Starsky followed him, trying to catch up with the angry man.

"Leave me alone!" Hutch yelled. His face was twisted with anger. In a flash, he was at the door, opening and closing it in one swift movement.

If the echo of the closing door wasn't the parting blow, then the soft footfalls outside the door were all the evidence Starsky needed that Hutch had left him. Starsky stood frozen in the middle of the living room, gazing absently at the closed door. Whatever he'd meant to say, whatever he'd wished for was lost forever.

***

'You can't wait to get away from me.'  Hutch's angry, heartbroken words echoed in Starsky's head. He was caught in a whirlwind of conflicting thoughts. Every time he formed a game plan, the twister destroyed it to pieces.

I cannot tell you that I love you. Without telling you that I'm in love with you, I cannot explain why I'm avoiding you. Then what should I do? Keep on avoiding you until we go our separate ways?

A never-ending loop.

What if I tell you that I love you? Yeah, right! That will go really well. What sort of a friend am I anyway to burden my partner with more problems?

Why tell him that I love him when I know he can never love me the way I want him to?

'What do you care, anyway?' Cold words! An angry Hutch!

Go to hell if you want to. See if I care! "Aaarrrrrhg!" Starsky screamed.

Realizing that he wasn't getting anywhere with this circular reasoning, Starsky busied himself by cleaning the apartment. He did the laundry, folded the dry clothes, and arranged them in the dresser. In the process, he found a ball of clothes in one drawer. Starsky picked it up, frowning. How did this get so tangled up? I would never do something like this.

Starsky sat on the bedroom floor with the clothes, trying to untangle each piece. Once he'd unknotted the bundle, he realized it was a couple of Hutch's t-shirts all rolled up with his underwear. He broke into a fit of hysterical laughter, feeling the worries and tension melt away. He could only imagine how Hutch's new dresser drawers must look after a week or two. You should have bought one huge trunk instead of that dresser, so that you could just roll and throw all your clothes in. He sat on the floor with Hutch's t-shirts, smoothing out the wrinkles by rubbing them softly. He missed Hutch! He had been gone for too long. Starsky finished rearranging the dresser. He neatly folded Hutch's clothes and put them into the top right drawer.

 Time to check in, Hutch! Starsky called Hutch at home. No answer. Where was he? Hutch had enough time to get updated and come back!  What was there to update anyway? Vanessa was just trying to manipulate him, the way she always did.

How could any sane person even think of divorcing Hutch?

Hutch and Vanessa had been married for three years. If Vanessa's problem was Hutch being a cop, why did she wait for this long for a divorce? How long were they married to each other? Starsky grabbed his notepad. He had the time to kill.

Hutch married Vanessa, his college sweetheart, right after he had completed his Biology degree.

1. Degree completed (Day 1)
2. Marriage (Month 1)

Three months later, he registered for med school.

1. Medical school (Month 4)

One year into his medical degree, he dropped out and joined the police academy. Vanessa vehemently disagreed with his decision. That's where the problem began.

1. Police academy (Month 16)

Hutch and I met at the academy. We were roommates. We were so different from each other, but I had never felt that close to anyone before. Six months later, we were rookie police officers working at different precincts, different beats.

1. Police officers (Month 22)

Nine months later, I got through the Detective's exam… and Hutch followed another three months after. 

1. Detectives (Month 34)

Three months later, we formed a partnership under Captain Dobey in the Metropolitan Division and three months later the marriage falls apart.

1. Partners (Month 37)
2. Break-up (Month 40)

 
Why wait until now?

The answer was staring back at him from his notes.

Shit! It was because of me!

 'Leave me alone,' Hutch had said.

Like hell I will! I left you alone for four hours today, and that's all I'm giving you. Starsky picked up the keys to his Mustang and was out the door.

Who in the cosmos did we tick off to get bombarded with all this heartache, Hutch?


9.    A Partner's Burdens

Hutch stood in front of the bathroom mirror examining the results of Vanessa's latest handiwork. He touched the red marks on his face in the exact shape of her fingers. He could still feel the stinging sensation of her hand coming in contact with his cheek. He touched the bluish bruise where her ring had caught him. He turned to a side, examining his neck. A jagged trail of three angry red scratches ran along his pale skin. Blood droplets, like little red beads, decorated the sharp lines. Just as he reached the medicine cabinet someone knocked on his front door.

"Hutch?" Starsky hollered.

Shit! I asked him to leave me alone.

Hutch dashed into the bedroom and grabbed a shirt to cover his torso. He pulled a turtleneck over his head. Starsky had a key to the cottage, he wouldn't stay outside long. Hutch locked himself back in the bathroom right before Starsky stepped into the house.

"Hutch? Where are you?"

"I don't want you, Starsky. Get the hell out of here," he said harshly, hoping that would scare Starsky away. Scare Starsky?

"Oh, yeah? Great!" Starsky called out, tromping through the living room. "I'll help myself to a beer. You can come out when the office is closed for business."

Hutch could just picture that smirk on Starsky's face. Why did Starsky come over? He leaves me when I want him and then shadows me when I ask him to leave me alone.

Hutch checked the medicine cabinet for something he could put on his face to mask the red blotches. I should have bought a make-up kit the very first day Vanessa slapped me. Why did I ever put up with her for this long?

Starsky had switched on the TV. Hutch heard the Kellogs Sugar Crunch breakfast cereal commercial. Starsky's favorite!

"Give it up, buddy. Either you come out or I come in." Starsky drummed his fingers on the bathroom door.

"Dammit, Starsk, give me some privacy, will you?" Hutch said impatiently. He stood in the middle for the bathroom, wishing it had a window so that he could climb out and escape.

"Your wet towel is on the bedroom floor. That means you're already wearing pants. And that means you already had a shower, finished your 'business,'" Starsky catalogued, proving exactly why he was a good detective. "You should never leave the towel on the floor, partner!"

Hutch grit his teeth. "This is my house, and I'll do what I want. What part in get the hell out of here don't you understand?"

"Why don't you throw me out yourself, huh?" Starsky taunted. "You afraid of me or somethin'?"

Aware that he was fighting a losing battle, Hutch checked his face again. The redness had not diminished. Maybe Starsky wouldn't notice. Shit! This feels exactly like facing my father with my school report card. Hutch unlocked the door and stepped out of the bathroom.

Starsky was leaning his arm against the doorframe, blocking the door and grinning like an idiot.

Hutch hesitated. How would Starsky react when he saw the damage?

The toothy grin turned into anger mixed with disbelief, a hiss escaping Starsky's clenched teeth.

"Dammit, Hutch!" Starsky said under his breath, grabbing Hutch's arm. "What the hell did she do to you?" His nostrils flared and his breathing harsh.

"Don't, Starsky. I'm warning you!" Hutch yanked his arm free and pushed Starsky away.

Starsky was faster. He grabbed Hutch with both hands and hauled him round to face him. He studied Hutch's face for a minute. "What's this?" he asked, lifting a finger to Hutch's cheek.

Hutch knew it was the dark blue bruise. He was amazed how softly Starsky touched his swollen cheek despite the rage that flared in his eyes.

"Don't." Hutch tried to get away from his agonizingly feather-light caress, but Starsky wouldn't let go. His eyes settled on Hutch's neck.

"Take it off," Starsky said the very next second, taking his hands off Hutch. "What are you hiding from me?"

Hutch froze.

"You can cover yourself from the whole world, but never from me, Hutch. Do you understand?" Starsky's words boomed throughout the cottage. 

Hutch had to get his partner to calm down. What his volatile partner could to the person who hurt Hutch was unimaginable. Hutch pulled the garment over his head, embarrassed of the scratch marks on the neck.

"Geez, Hutch," Starsky growled. "How could you allow her to do this to you?" Starsky asked between angry breaths. His face was distorted with anger and hate. "Is this the update she wanted to give you, huh?" he snarled. He looked possessed and ready to kill. "When and where did this happen?"

"Her house," Hutch replied.

"Her house? Why the fuck did you go there?" Starsky was getting more agitated by the minute. His hands coiled into tight fists, his knuckles white.

"Because she had left the fucking documents there." Hutch matched Starsky's harshness. He didn't have to explain himself to anyone. He was tired of being shouted at, scratched, and clawed. 

"She got you back to where she wants you, didn't she?" Starsky ran his fingers through his hair, clutching the back of his head tightly. He paced the room restlessly.

"What the hell was I supposed to do, Starsk? Tell me you would have done it differently."

Starsky turned back, shooting him a fierce look. His deep blue eyes were as dark as the night.

"No, I wouldn't do it differently because I would have never married someone like her!" Starsky shouted, pointing his hand to an imaginary Vanessa at the door.

Hutch inhaled sharply gritting his teeth tightly. He already knew he had made the biggest mistake in his life! Did Starsky have to rub it in? "Oh, gee. Aren't you the smart one?" Hutch said sarcastically. "Do us both a favor," he said, feeling cold and detached. "And leave. I really don't want you here."

Starsky promptly turned and walked away, his shoulders slumped in remorse. He stood facing the front door, rubbing his forehead as if a headache was forming. After what seemed like eternity, he faced Hutch. The killer look was gone. Still, for a few minutes he said nothing at all, and then seemed to gather himself. "Didn't mean it like that." He paused and glanced at Hutch. "Go, sit or something," he said with a wave of his hand. "Time for damage control."  Starsky strode into the bathroom.

"No." Hutch spat. "Just leave. That's the best damage control you could do." He didn't sit or 'something'. No! I won't let him touch me. Hutch stood at the dining table, with his back turned to the bathroom.

The bottles in the medicine cabinet rattled, followed by a tirade of profanity. Hutch remembered Starsky arranging the medicine cabinet when he moved into the cottage. He had bought the 'bare necessities for a sick man.' Hutch never thought he would use any of the contents this quickly.

Hutch glanced around for a second as Starsky veered off the bathroom to the living room.

Starsky came closer and stood beside Hutch. He hunched his shoulders, lapsing into a momentarily silence. He sighed, deeply. "It's serious you know."

"What?" Hutch asked, puzzled at Starsky's sudden calm and quiet demeanor.

"Felony charge--assault on a police officer. Should have arrested her."

Hutch bit his tongue to keep him from laughing, as obviously, from his expression, Starsky didn't see the humor.

"Are you gonna let me take care of you?" Starsky asked softly, tugging at Hutch's elbow. He pulled a chair from the dining table and gestured him to sit.

Hutch sighed. How could I be angry with you Starsky? He sank into the chair. So much for not allowing you to touch me!

Starsky laid a hand on Hutch's shoulder briefly, apologizing silently for making Hutch mad. Hutch patted his hand, nothing to forgive, partner!

Starsky leaned closer and studied the bruises carefully. He pushed Hutch's hair out of his face, tucking it behind his ear. Starsky had two tubes of ointments with him. "This will take care of the bruising," he said, squeezing a small amount of Arnica cream onto his index and middle fingers of his left hand. Holding the back of Hutch's head with one hand, he tenderly brushed the ointment against the swollen skin on his cheek. Starsky skimmed the blue bruise. "Looks nasty." His gentleness drifted over Hutch's body in a soothing caress.

Hutch's vision blurred with tears. This throat tightened with emotion making him incapable of speaking. "Her ring caught me," he croaked.

Starsky gently turned Hutch's face to expose the scratch marks on his neck, and cursed under his breath. "This has to stop, Hutch. You've got to take control of your life," he said solemnly. "Why- why did you let her do this to you, again?"

Hutch smelled Starsky's aftershave mixed with his unique scent. Never in a million years had he imagined that a man's aftershave would be such a turn on for him. The butterflies in his stomach snapped their wings fiercely. He clutched his middle, determined to focus on the situation without giving in to his treacherous mind. Hutch felt Starsky's soft, warm breath tickling his neck. He almost smiled, but mentally slapped himself before he got goosebumps. 

If Hutch moved just a little bit, he could tuck his head beneath Starsky's chin, in the crook of his neck. If he pulled Starsky against him, Starsky would just fit right into his body, chest to chest, and he could capture those lips. Breath caught in his throat, Hutch dug his nails into his palms, concentrating on the pain in his hands to keep his thoughts away from the man he loved. Starsky was so close, yet so far away. This was not the time to give into desire.

"Ever fought with a hissing, spitting, angry cat, Starsk?"

"Some cat," Starsky snorted, picking up the second tube he had brought from the bathroom. "Her nails got you here pretty bad. Can get infected, you know? This will help." Starsky dabbed some cream onto his fingers and tossed the tube onto Hutch's lap.

Hutch examined the vial. Triple Antibiotic Ointment. "Hey, don't you need a prescription for this?"

"Not anymore, hot shot. Can get it over the counter now." He gently applied the antibiotic on the scratches, and pulled away; apparently satisfied with the attention he had given Hutch.

"Wanna talk about it?" he asked, dragging a chair for him and turning it around. Starsky straddled the chair and leaned his chest on the backrest, placing his chin on his folded arms.

You got me right where you want me, Starsk. I know there is no escape until I come out with everything. You have that effect on me, and you are using it on me shamelessly. Damn you, Starsky!

The memory of the day's events started to break through the fog blanketing Hutch's mind.  

"Nothing much to say, Starsk. We had lunch at the Green Gateau. She talked like nothing bad had happened between us," Hutch said, drawing circles on his thigh with one finger. "She wanted to give me a list of stuff she wanted, and the divorce settlements I should think about. I almost told her to 'stuff it,' but like Brendon said, I played along."

Starsky listened patiently. He seemed to have calmed down.

Hutch chose his words carefully. "She had forgotten to bring the documents, and asked me whether I could stop on my way back and get them."

"She wanted you in the house to taunt you. To make you see what you had, and what you lost," Starsky said, smugly. "She wanted to get back with you, didn't she?"

Hutch's head shot up. Damn, he is good! He nodded. Vanessa had said she would forget about the divorce if he resigned from the force.

"I told her I'll never go back to live with a woman who killed Jade, Jasmine, Monsoon, Roberto and-" Hutch stopped. He would never forgive anyone who killed his plants. "She said they were just stupid plants that felt nothing."

"Did you expect anything different from her?"

"I wasn't expecting anything, Starsk. It was just the usual thing. We argued, she got mad, one thing led to the other." Hutch pushed his palms against his thighs to stand up. "Do you want anything to drink? Coffee? Beer?" He walked into the kitchen and over to the refrigerator.

Starsky got up and followed Hutch. He folded his arms and leaned against the fridge. "When were you going to tell me that she divorced you because of me?"

Hutch froze with the beer in his hand. "Wha- what are you talking about?"

"Can the act, Hutch," Starsky said harshly.

At the house, Hutch had read the original letter from Vanessa's lawyer that stated he was accepting the case. Hutch had skimmed through the legalese and was shocked when he read one sentence. "As per our discussion on May 25, 1972." That was right after he and Starsky became partners, almost four months earlier. The memory of the conversation that followed cut through him fiercely.

"I gave up on you completely when you got partnered with your good for nothing friend. I knew you were a gone case," Vanessa told him calmly after he read the contents of the letter.

"Leave him out of this," he yelled at her.

"What will you do if he dies, Ken?"
 
"Were you waiting for him to die?"

"I figured it wouldn't take that long for him to get shot if you were watching his back. You know you can't protect anyone, Ken," she sneered.

Hutch shook with rage. He was about to lose it completely. He had to clench his fists and keep them glued to his body to prevent himself from slugging her on the jaw. He had never raised a hand to a woman, though God knows she was no lady!

"If you ever come near me or him-" he threatened, and she had jumped at him, clawing and scratching.

He had pushed her away, and left the house for good, wishing he had never laid eyes on her. He didn't want to say a word to Starsky, but as always, Starsky had already figured it out.

"Starsk, it's not you," Hutch blew out a pent-up breath. "She didn't want to be the wife of a cop. There's no other reason, Starsk."

"Did she think you'd leave the force for her? Vanessa obviously doesn't know you at all," Starsky exploded, raising his arms in frustration. "She was willing to be a cop's wife, even after you joined the force, Hutch, but she gave up right after you and I made partners. Are you telling me that was just a coincidence?" Starsky's anger was simmering just under the surface. 

"Listen to yourself, Starsky. Do you think she would have divorced me if she really loved me? I would have been a cop with or without you," Hutch said, clutching his beer far too tightly. He didn't want to give into anger again. "If we had never met, I would have had another partner, and she would have still gone through this."

"How can you be sure, Hutch? I'm not just someone else. You know it. I know it, and she knew it too!" Starsky said, turning away. He stomped to the front door.

"What are you doing?" asked Hutch, alarmed.

"Going home. Getting the hell out of here. Leaving you alone!" Starsky muttered, picking up his keys from the dining table. He left the cottage as quickly as possible.

Hutch never wanted to be alone. He never wanted Starsky to leave him.

Love is supposed to bring happiness. Love is supposed to bring people together. Big deal! Alcohol brings people together, too, but I'm here all by myself. Hutch drained the last drop of his Budweiser, sitting on the couch, staring at the empty space in front of him. He had very successfully driven away his wife, and his partner.

Love doesn't drive people away. Love doesn't break apart people. But that's what my 'love' did to the people I loved. Maybe I'm cursed.

Closing his eyes, Hutch rested his head on the couch, reminiscing over Starsky's visit to his apartment that evening. Starsky had touched him so tenderly and softly. He could still feel the sensations Starsky had caused. So much for love!

Hutch could see the moonlight illuminating the whole world. He was standing on a mountain, listening to the trees whispering around him. He was Prince Charming, talking to his friends in the woods. Footsteps behind him were getting closer and closer. He could smell the unmistakable scent of his Prince Handsome. He smiled when Handsome's strong arms encircled his waist, and his warm lips touched the base of the neck.

Hutch shivered.

"I love you, Hutch." Starsky's voice filled his ears.

Hutch gasped, turning to face him. Starsky captured his lips with his own, pulling Hutch closer.

A cloud shifted near the moon and the light started to fade away. Starsky stepped away from him and then everything turned pitch black. "Starsky!" Hutch screamed, running towards the blackness. He reached out for Starsky, but his fingers touched air.

Hutch opened his eyes. Starsky was his lover, but only in his dreams.


10.  A Partner's Endurance

"What the hell happened, Hutch?" Starsky asked calmly, staring out of the windshield at the wall of the police parking garage.

Hutch winced at his partner's grim expression. He could feel the ripples of anger and frustration beneath Starsky's calm surface. He and Starsky had been sitting in the Mustang for fifteen minutes after logging off shift. They hadn't exchanged a single word since the shooting at Casey's two hours ago.

 "Starsk, I'm sorry," Hutch apologized. He had lost concentration. He hadn't been attentive. Hutch had broken protocol!

"That's not an answer! What the hell were you thinking, taking off like that? You didn't even draw your gun." Starsky strangled the steering wheel in a white knuckled death grip.

They had responded to a 211 call from dispatch at four o'clock. An armed robbery at Casey's Corner Deli. Hutch had been out of the Mustang before Starsky even brought the car to a halt a short distance away from the deli. A second after jumping out of the car, Hutch had realized he hadn't signaled his intentions to Starsky.

Hutch had dashed across the sidewalk just as a man with a ski mask ran out of Casey's waving a gun around.

Seeing Hutch approaching, the thief aimed his gun at Hutch.

Hutch had gasped, realizing that his gun was still in his holster. How the hell did I forget to draw my gun? What was I thinking?

Hutch ducked down to the ground, covering his head with his arms when he heard Starsky's voice booming behind him. "Police. Drop your weapon," followed by three shots, one from the armed robber, the others from Starsky's Beretta.

The guy with the mask went down, and Starsky had quickly disarmed him, shouting at Hutch to call for an ambulance. Everything had been over within seconds.

Shaking his head to dispel the memories, Hutch leaned against the head rest in the Mustang. There was no excuse for his behavior. A mistake that shouldn't ever be repeated.

"He was aiming right at you. Did you even see him?" Starsky's eyes were still fixed intently on the wall.

Hutch noticed a six inch dent on the wall and wondered whether Starsky's glaring was the cause. It seemed that the one thing Hutch was capable of accomplishing these days was pissing off his partner.

"You could've gotten killed. Dammit, Hutch," Starsky said, his head falling forward against the steering wheel.

Hutch sighed in despair as the real reason for Starsky's distress dawned on him. He touched Starsky's shoulder gently, uncertain whether Starsky would flinch away. When he didn't, Hutch moved his arm to the nape of Starsky's neck, feeling the rigid muscles. He applied gentle pressure, melting away Starsky's tension and stress.  There was no need for words.

***

Starsky dropped Hutch off at his apartment. As soon as he turned the Mustang around to drive back home, he saw two men wearing suits walk up to Hutch. Starsky stepped on the brakes, bringing the Mustang to an abrupt halt. What the hell was going on?

He watched as one of the men talked to Hutch. Hutch nodded. The second man walked up beside the other, blocking Starsky's view.

Starsky turned off the ignition and got out of the car, not attempting to hide the fact that he could see the men Hutch was speaking with. Before he could get near enough to hear what they were saying, the two men walked away. Hutch stood on his doorstep holding a large orange envelope.

As Starsky started towards him, Hutch raised a hand to stop him. "Nothing to worry about, Starsk. Go home. Just a special delivery from Vanessa. "

Delivery from Vanessa meant only one thing. Hutch had been served with the divorce papers, but he says there's nothing to worry about! "Are you sure? 'Cause I have nothing to do at home, anyway."

"I need to go through these… by myself," Hutch said, waving the orange envelope.

That's exactly why I wanted to be with you, but… Starsky stood in the driveway for a moment. "Call me if you need anything or just come over."

"Not today," said Hutch, shaking his head.

Starsky nodded and walked back to his Mustang.


***

Hard liquor together with an extra hard day was a great combination for a headache, but Starsky needed a drink. He poured whiskey into a glass and gulped it down, feeling the burn all the way through. But it didn't get rid of the ache he felt in the middle of his chest. He poured another drink, but thought about taking a shower first. It was one of those days.

If he had been late by a millisecond, Hutch would have gotten shot, and would have been- No! He pushed the image of a lifeless Hutch from his mind. That could never happen. He would never let that happen. Not while he was alive.

A part of him wanted to shake Hutch until all his bones rattled in his skin, while the other part wanted to throw his arms around Hutch and protect him from all the evilness of the world. He could do neither. Instead, he stripped off his clothes and stepped into the shower, allowing the warm water to sluice over his sore muscles.

I have been shouting at Hutch too often. Hutch was injured yesterday, physically and mentally, and all what I did was yell at him. Today he almost gets himself killed, and what did I do? I yelled at him again. And on top of everything, as if today's events were not traumatic enough, he was served with divorce papers. No wonder he didn't want me around. He probably thought I'd blame him for getting served.

The shower had made him feel human. He slipped into his dark blue silk pajamas and walked into the kitchen. Starsky opened the fridge, and found some leftover pizza. He ate it cold, and washed it down with his whiskey. He had work tomorrow, and adding a hangover to his already foul mood would only intensify the problems of communication he had with Hutch these days. This had to end.

Starsky switched off the lights and slipped between the cool sheets of his bed. He fell asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow.

***

Next morning, Starsky entered the squad room, refreshed, recharged and ready to go. He would toughen it up and concentrate on what's needed to be done for the moment. Piece o' cake! He would be the friend Hutch needed.

"Starsky, in my office," Dobey called as soon as Starsky stepped in. Hutch was nowhere to be seen.

"Good morning, Cap'n," said Starsky with a salute. He stepped into Dobey's office, closing the door behind him. "You look extra sharp today," he said with a smirk.

Dobey grunted. "Flattery wouldn't get you anywhere, Starsky. What I would like to know is what's going on with your partner?"

Starsky plopped into the chair in front of Dobey's desk. "You already know what's going on with Hutch. I know what you know. Nothing more, nothing less."

"Then tell me why he needed the morning off. We are short of officers this week with the flu that's going on, and I can't let my detectives take days off like-"

"Now wait a minute," Starsky interrupted. "Hutch and I have put in extra hours for two weeks now. He is entitled to take time off whenever he needs," he said, but Starsky was puzzled why Hutch had taken off without letting him know the reason. Had to be something with the divorce papers.

Dobey glared at him. "Alright then, you can hit the streets with McGregor in the morning, and get to the reports in the afternoon. I need the full report on the shooting at Casey's yesterday."

"McGregor?" Ah, yes, Greg, the new guy.

"Adam McGregor. The new officer assigned to us last week. He was already in the squad room when you came. If you don't want to go with him, you can finish the reports in the morning and wait for Hutch-"

"No. I'll do the reports later, with Hutch." Starsky jumped at the opportunity to keep Hutch off the streets for the day. If Hutch was dealing with another divorce-related incident, he would be better off working on reports.

Hutch didn't have to know that Starsky had a choice in choosing his assignments for the day.

Starsky left Dobey's office. He called Hutch at home for the second time, but the call was picked up by the answering machine. He replaced the handset, noticing the tall, brown eyed, dark-haired rookie officer, Adam McGregor waiting for him at the north-east corner of the squad room. McGregor was dressed in black pants and a white shirt.

Patrol time! "Let's go, Greg." Starsky called out, sizing him up head to toe. "Nice suit," he grinned.

"Thanks, Starsky. I err... I'm planning to get some regular clothes, soon." He quickly grabbed his black jacket and followed Starsky out of the squad room.


11.  A Partner's Soul-Mate

Starsky hated hospitals. After two hours in the waiting room at the Memorial hospital, Starsky was finally called into the ER. He sat patiently while Nurse Kenzie tended to his injured wrist. McGregor stood beside him, pale and distraught, fidgeting with the collar of his shirt. Starsky wished Hutch were with him.

Around eleven am that day, with McGregor tagging along, Starsky responded to a call of a disorderly conduct at a fast food place. A drunk had allegedly become irate with the Sizzlin' Burgers staff, blaming them for taking too long to serve him a burger. He had hit a staff member with his soda, splashing it across her face. When Starsky and McGregor arrived, the man pulled a knife on Starsky, resisting arrest. Starsky managed to apprehend the man, but got nicked at the wrist in the process.  After leaving the drunkard at the booking room in the Metro, McGregor brought Starsky to the hospital.

"You'll need stitches, Detective Starsky," Nurse Kenzie said, after washing the wound.

"Oh, God," McGregor gasped.

"Are you alright, Greg?" asked Starsky, noticing McGregor's trembling hands. He must have seen how wide and deep the gash was.

"I think you should stay in the waiting room, Officer."

"No, no. I'm fine. I'm staying with him." McGregor stood his ground. "Hutch is going to kill me," he muttered.

"Who's Hutch?" asked Kenzie.

"His partner," said McGregor. "I was assigned to Detective Starsky just for today." 

Starsky grinned. Ah, Hutch. If you were around, I would have already been treated and sent home by now. Miss you, partner!

Kenzie numbed Starsky's wrist, and Doctor Mason sewed him up with eight stitches.

"You are good to go, Detective Starsky," Kenzie said after dressing the wound with gauze. Drops of blood seeped into the white material. "This is normal. It'll clot and dry up quickly."

"Any pain meds?" McGregor asked quickly.

"You need any, Greg?" Starsky teased. 

"I will get Doctor Mason to write up a prescription," Kenzie replied, smiling. "And Detective Starsky," she turned back to face him. "You should come back in a week to remove the stitches."

With instructions on how to take care of the wound and a prescription for a pain reliever, Starsky left the hospital with McGregor at three pm.

"You are not going to drive, Starsky," McGregor exclaimed when Starsky sat at the driver seat.

"If you need a ride to the Metro, get in. I'm not hurting or bleeding anymore. I can drive, Greg. My arm is not broken."

"As if that would've stopped you," McGregor muttered under his breath, getting into the Mustang. "Okay, but we have to pick up the meds, first," he insisted.

"T'rrific," Starsky said. Why was he 'partnered,' temporary or otherwise, with people who seemed to mother-hen him unnecessarily?

Starsky picked up the prescription and drove to the Metro hoping to find Hutch in the squad room. Hutch was supposed to come to work in the afternoon.

***

Starsky met with Dobey at his office and gave him an oral report on the day's events. Hutch wasn't around.

"Go home, Starsky. You can get the other reports done next week." Captain Dobey was stern, but kind.

"You heard from Hutch?" Starsky asked hopefully. The uneasy apprehension of not knowing Hutch's whereabouts played havoc in his mind. This wasn't like Hutch.

"No." Dobey shook his head.

"He was served with the divorce papers yesterday," Starsky said, tapping on his knee. "Other than that, I don't know anything about why he took the day off. I called him several times, but he isn't answerin'."

"He'll show up. Just go and get some rest. I'll see you on Monday."

By the time Starsky left the Metro, the numbness of the local anesthetic started to wear off. He was glad McGregor had insisted on picking up the prescription. The pain started to pulsate at his wrist and he took the Codeine without further ado. He ignored the throbbing pain on his arm, ruminating on possible rationales for his partner's absence. Was it another Vanessa episode after the papers were delivered? Did he suddenly come down with the flu Dobey mentioned? If so, why wouldn't he take the whole day off?

Going home wasn't much comfort without knowing about Hutch.

***

Starsky slipped into an old white shirt and a pair of comfortable shorts after a warm shower. His weekend was about to begin at six pm on a Friday evening. He had the next two days off, but where the hell was Hutch?

Codeine worked like magic, relieving him of his misery and making him drowsy. The downside was that he couldn't have any alcohol.

Starsky propped up a couple of cushions at one end of the sofa and lay down with a root beer. He took small sips, wishing for the umpteenth time that Hutch would call him. He couldn't keep his eyes open as the Codeine took effect gradually, pulling him into a deep sleep.

Starsky woke up with a jolt to a sound of a loud knock on the front door. Wincing at the pain at his wrist, he pushed himself off the sofa. Starsky trudged sleepily across the living room, blinking to get his eyes focused.

Rubbing his eyes to get rid of the final threads of sleep, Starsky pulled open the door.

"Hutch?" he exclaimed. An immense relief swept over him seeing Hutch safe and well, and within reach.

Hutch looked haggard. His hair was disheveled and matted to his sweaty face. He looked down at Starsky's wrist with a grimace. "Don't you Hutch me," Hutch muttered, tension glued to every part of his face and body.

Starsky sighed. He stepped away from the door, allowing Hutch to walk in. "Nice to see you too, partner," he grumbled.

Hutch spun around. "Now, you listen to me, carefully." He inhaled sharply. "I'm giving you fair warning, Starsk. I won't tolerate this, and I won't let you do this to us," he said through clenched teeth.

Starsky quirked an eyebrow. "Do what?" he asked, confused. What was Hutch taking about? He was the one who disappeared the whole day without any warning.

"How did you allow this to happen?" Hutch demanded, throwing his hands in the air. "I said I'll be back in the afternoon! I leave for few hours, and you-" he stopped, swallowing whatever he wanted to say. Hutch walked over to where Starsky stood at the door. He picked up Starsky's bandaged hand gently, despite all the angry roughness he showed. He ran his fingers along the gauze. There were a few small spots of dark blood. "You are bleeding," he hissed.

"No- no. Not bleedin' anymore. This was before," said Starsky, quickly, hoping Hutch would step away from him. He was plastered to the front door, and couldn't move an inch without bumping into Hutch. "It's nothing, Hutch. Just a small nick." Starsky tried to sound as normal as he could, but he was far from his usual self, standing at the edge of the world.

"Eight stitches, Starsk!"  Anger was replaced by bitterness, frustration, and hopelessness. "Do you realize how close to the artery this is?" Starsky understood Hutch's feeling of despair over what couldn't be controlled. 

"When McGregor told me some lunatic had knifed you, cut your wrist-" Hutch sounded hesitant and regretful. He closed his eyes, turning to the side.

"Where were you?" Starsky asked, steering the conversation away from the wounded hand that really didn't need more attention. He gently pulled out of Hutch's grip and stepped back before Hutch could come closer again. Starsky walked all the way to the kitchen, putting as much as distance between him and Hutch. He couldn't put his thoughts into words when Hutch was close.

"I had to meet with Brendon. I left a message yesterday, asking for an appointment as soon as possible. I wanted to give him the divorce papers. His secretary called to let me know that a client had cancelled a morning appointment. She said I could meet with Brendon at eight o'clock. And when I was about to leave home, my father called me."

That wasn't good news. "Your father?"

"Father had flown here, to Bay City, last night," said Hutch, his shoulders slumped. "He called me from his hotel, and asked me to come meet him. He said it was urgent." Hutch stood by the door looking at his palms as if he was unsure of what to do. "But that's not important, Starsk." He snapped his head up to meet Starsky's eyes. "What I want to know is why you went on the streets with McGregor when you could've waited until I got back."

"It was either the reports or cruising. You know I hate writing." Starsky said quickly. It wasn't a lie, anyway. He hated writing with a passion.

"Oh, really? Was that the true reason?" Hutch sneered. "Do you think I don't know what you're trying to do here? Huh?"

"Why don't you tell me, partner, because I have no fucking idea what you are talking about," Starsky challenged. "You are the one who left without so much of a phone call the whole day."

"Don't try to spur me, Starsky. I couldn't get you on the phone in the morning. I tried, but you must have already left the apartment or maybe you were in the bathroom. I don't know, but at least I left you a note. It wasn't like I just vanished into thin air."

"What note?" Starsky asked befuddled. He hadn't seen any notes from Hutch.

"On your desk," Hutch said, his eyes remaining serious and watchful. "You didn't see it, did you?"

Damn! I never went to my desk today. "No," Starsky said glumly. Shit! Shit!

"I left a note for you when I dropped by the station to hand over the request for leave to Dobey before I went to meet Brendon."  Hutch sighed. "It still doesn't explain why you decided to be on streets when Dobey gave you the choice of doing the reports until I got back. Were you scouting for a new partner, Starsk?"

"A new partner?" Was Hutch out of his mind? "What the hell are you talking about? Why should I look for a new partner?" Starsky lashed out.

"Yesterday, Casey's shooting. I made a mistake, Starsk. I know I was out of line and I apologized. I told you it won't happen again, but seems like you don't trust me enough to be on the streets anymore, do you?"

"Oh, geez. Snap out of it, will ya?"

"Don't try to brush me off, Starsky." Hutch said warningly. "Did you think for a moment that someone like McGregor could protect you better, out there, on the streets? McGregor?"

Starsky couldn't understand why Hutch was so angry about him going patrolling with Greg. He was being completely unreasonable. "Listen, Greg had nothing to do with-"

"Oh, is it Greg, now?" Hutch said chidingly.

"What's wrong with you?" Starsky felt trapped. "How could you even think that I would consider someone else as my partner? I was out of my mind not knowing where you were. I called you at home, drove by the cottage a couple of times. I hit the streets because I couldn't concentrate on the fucking reports when I had no idea where my partner was." He shook his head.

There was something else into this. Hutch couldn't be mad just because I went cruising with another detective. "What's with you? This is not about Greg-- is it?" Something else is boiling within and you are just trying to find a reason to blow the steam off. This got to stop, Hutch! "Listen… you are tired. Why don't you take a shower, and we'll talk about this later. You have some t-shirts-"

"I know where my clothes are- or at least I knew where they were, weeks ago." Hutch said cuttingly. He rolled his head back and wrapped his fingers around his neck. He closed his eyes for a moment. "You think that I can't watch your back. You don't trust me anymore. She was right."

"What in the shitting world of crap are you talking about?" Starsky felt his patience was running out. Who was right? Was he referring to something Vanessa said?

"The other day, the day I got these." Hutch touched the scratches on his neck. "Vanessa told me that I wasn't capable of protecting anyone. She said that I would get you killed because--"

"Oh, God." So that was the real reason behind his temper. "Are you out of your mind? How could you still allow her to mess with your head like this, Hutch?" Starsky felt Hutch's stiff neck muscles cracking under the stress. But he knew Hutch wasn't ready for any kind of physical contact. "We aren't talking until you cool off. Go. You need a shower. Go on. I'll order us pizza."

Hutch's eyes snapped open. "I'm not done with you."

Starsky felt Hutch's eyes piercing through his brain, down to is heart. If you could only see how frustrated I was, not knowing your whereabouts, partner. "Me neither, but first things first. Go," said Starsky firmly. He sighed in relief when Hutch staggered towards the bedroom.

 Another partner? Huh!

***

Starsky woke up sensing movement around him. He cracked open his eyes, but shut them again. Even his eyelids hurt. He summoned his memories and remembered Hutch's arrival. He had sent Hutch to shower, and ordered pizza. He had lain down for a while until the delivery was made.

Pizza! He could smell it. He pried open his eyes, inhaling the freshly baked smell of a warm pizza. Hutch must've got the door.

"How many did you take?" Hutch stood by the sofa, holding the bottle of Codeine in his hand.

"Two, I think," Starsky replied, sitting upright and rubbing his eyes.

"That's too much. One would have been enough. You fall asleep even when you take some Tylenol. This is very strong, you know." 

Ah, that's why I can't keep my eyes open, and you know me better than any doctor.

"And you haven't eaten yet, have you?" Hutch asked, setting two plates on the coffee table.

"You haven't either." Starsky reminded him.

"Yes, but I didn't take any pills. You should have eaten something before taking these." Hutch brought the pizza over to the coffee table.

"Okay, then. Let us eat. I'm starving." Starsky picked up his plate and held it out for a slice of pizza.

"You're always starving, Starsk." Hutch sat beside Starsky on the sofa, balancing his plate on his knee.

Starsky switched on the TV. They watched the news and ate in silence. Hutch's anger and frustration had subsided.  

***

Hutch cleared away the table and joined Starsky on the couch. "I'm staying tonight," he said firmly.

Starsky blinked. "Of course," he said. The past couple of days were rough, too rough on Hutch. Starsky would do anything to see Hutch smiling again. He wanted to erase those lines on the forehead that made him look a very old man.

Starsky leaned against the side arm of the couch, facing Hutch. "Turn around," he gestured, indicating that he wanted Hutch sit with his back to Starsky.

"Your arm," Hutch protested.

"Just do as I say," said Starsky impatiently. "I'm gonna massage your neck muscles. That's all. Now scoot over."

Hutch did as he was asked with a bemused expression. Starsky started to knead his neck and shoulder muscles with his right hand, using his left to Hutch hold around his middle.

Hutch instinctively clasped the injured wrist. He stroked the slightly swollen fingers and the area surrounding the gauze. "Does it hurt?" he asked.

"Nope- I'm good. Stop worrying." Starsky wished Hutch wouldn't pay so much attention to his wrist.

"This is my fault." Hutch mumbled. "I should have got hold of you before I went to talk to Brendon."

Ahh… Hutch, you never forgive yourself for anything, but keep on punishing yourself for everything. "Stop blaming yourself. I should have checked my desk. I should have known you wouldn't just disappear without telling me anything." Starsky continued to glide his hand along Hutch's shoulders, kneading and squeezing out the cricks and taut muscles.  "You are all knotted here."

Hutch's sighs, groans and gasps told Starsky that he was doing the right thing. The stressed muscles were loosening up and Hutch started to relax. The physical contact, the one factor vital for their wellbeing, had slipped away from their relationship during the past couple of days.

"'S good," Hutch mumbled. "You always know what to do, Starsk."

Starsky wished Hutch wouldn't talk in that dreamy, sleepy, wistful tone. The heat snaked up his spine. One throaty word from Hutch and he was a goner. "What did you father want with you?" Starsky asked, trying to coax his mind away from the subtle tension that had taken over him as soon as he touched Hutch.

"What do you think, Starsk? He was up to his old tricks. Van had called him to inform about the divorce. You know, I still have some property in my name, in Minnesota. According to the settlements Van will get some or all of it. She had called my father to tell him that once everything is done, she would sell her part of the land, and if interested he could buy it from her."

Starsky could only shake his head. "But… she has to wait for some time, right? I mean she can't sell it now."

"Yes, but she is already making plans. My parents adored her. They loved her so very much. In their eyes, she was the perfect daughter-in-law. After that phone call from Van, father finally saw her for what she was. He didn't like what he saw, and heard, for that matter."

So the veil that clouded Doctor Hutchinson's eyes were lifted off by the same hands that had woven it.

Hutch straightened up, arching his back and pushing his shoulders. "Enough, Starsk. I wouldn't want you to stop, but I know you are hurting."

No- don't move away from me. I can hold you, as long as I don't have to think or talk. "C'mere." Starsky extended his arms. "Just lean on me, and talk." He hadn't seen Hutch for the whole day. Hadn't had Hutch seated next to him in his car. And now that Hutch was here, with Starsky in his apartment, he didn't want Hutch anywhere else but in his arms.

Hutch melted into Starsky's embrace with no hesitation.

If it was comfort Hutch needed, Starsky will give just that, even if it was for one night. Partners are supposed to take care of each other. He loved Hutch, and there wasn't anything he wouldn't do for that love. He wrapped his arms tightly around Hutch.

Hutch's leaned his cheek upon Starsky's biceps, resting within the haven created just for him.

"So why did your father fly into Bay City? Couldn't he just talk to you on the phone?" Starsky asked, wriggling a little bit and settling into the sofa.

"He knew I would hang up on him. No, Father had to make sure he talked to me face-to-face. He was so sure that I would change my mind."

"Change your mind? You mean he wanted you to get back with Vanessa? Even after she talked about selling his land?"

"Yes. That's exactly why he wanted me to remain married-- all because he wanted the land to be in 'Hutchinson' family. He wasn't concerned about my happiness, Starsk." Hutch exhaled deeply. "Anyway… We went on arguing our sides. He even tried to make me feel guilty, saying that I'm making my mother suffer with my irrational, unrealistic, irresponsible actions."

What about all you had to go through? What about how they made you suffer when they even avoided your graduation at the academy? Weren't they unrealistic? Irresponsible? Irrational?

"So… now what?" asked Starsky, wishing he were with Hutch so that could've given Doctor Hutchinson a piece of his mind on where each other's responsibilities lay.

"He will buy it back from Van." Hutch pondered, then added, "He didn't say it, but I know that's what he would do."

"Where is he now? Went back?"

"Yes. His flight was at three o'clock. I drove him to the airport before coming back to the Metro. That's why I was late," Hutch said ruefully. "Again, I failed him, Starsk."

How could a father make his only son unhappy like this, over and over again? How could he make Hutch doubt himself like this?  Starsky had not resented Hutch's family to this extent before. "You didn't fail anyone, Hutch. They failed you- Vanessa, your family- You are not the one who's filing for divorce."

"It's not like I didn't know what was coming, Starsk. I've been thinking of what Vanessa has been telling me all these years. In a way, she is correct. I wasn't there for her most of the time. She's not cut out to be a cop's wife," Hutch said bitterly.

"No one is 'cut out' to be anyone, Hutch. You have to shape yourself, cut yourself when you have to. Was she there for you when you needed her?" Starsky asked calmly, resisting burying his face in Hutch's hair. "Were you ever truly happy with her, Hutch?"

"I- I don't know, Starsk. We were good together, but that was a long time ago. I guess… I was in love with the idea of being in love with her. I loved the idea of marriage, home, kids."

"You can have all of that again, someday, Hutch, with the right person." Starsky didn't want to go over the same conversation they'd had the day before. He had played a role in Hutch's divorce, but Hutch would never acknowledge it. There was no point taking about it anyway. Got to do what's got to be done. Got to escape from the past and face the future.

Hutch scoffed. "The right person?" He pulled himself slightly away from Starsky, turning around and looking into his eyes. "Do you think there is a 'right' person for anyone in this world, Starsk? Have you ever met a woman you felt or thought was the one for you?"

I have met my person, Hutch, but it ain't no girl! Starsky snorted a laugh, his eyes dancing.  "Do you think you'll be here, now, if I had met that right girl? Huh?"

Hutch's cheeks reddened. "Guess not," he said and thought for a while. "You know, Starsk?" Hutch continued, not taking his eyes off Starsky's. "I think it's better to love someone I can't have than having someone I can't love." His voice trailed off.

Starsky swallowed hard and cleared his throat. His sense of self preservation kicked in and he broke off eye contact. Is he telling what's on 'my' mind or is this what he truly feels?  Starsky quickly took his hands off Hutch's shoulders, sighing under his breath. He swung his legs back and placed them on the floor. Starsky stood up instantly, looking at Hutch out of the corner of his eyes.

"I'm thirsty," blurted Starsky, and walked briskly to the kitchen. "Do you want anything to drink?" he asked, busying himself by pouring a glass of water. He leaned against the counter with the glass in his hand.

Hutch walked right up to him, trapping Starsky in a corner of the kitchen.

"Have you ever loved someone that you can't have, Starsk? Have you ever loved someone so much that this ache keeps burning so deep within your chest? It just keeps gong on and on, and I feel like I can't breathe anymore."

A love that burns you? You are not talking about Vanessa, anymore. Are you? "Hutch." Starsky said pleadingly in a barely audible whisper. Don't say that you love me because I know you don't, Hutch. But I will start believing you. If I start believing you, there's no going back.

"Have you ever wanted someone so much in your life that you know you cannot live without him anymore?" Hutch asked, not allowing Starsky to get any words in between.

Cannot live without him? Him? Starsky stiffened instantly. No! Hutch, you don't want me. You can't love me. I cannot give you what a woman could. You cannot want me Hutch.

"What do you want from me?" Starsky couldn't recognize his own voice. His throat was all dry despite the glass of water he had just gulped down.

"You know what I want," Hutch said huskily. He leaned forward and took the glass out of Starsky's hand. He placed the vessel on the counter, his eyes not leaving Starsky's for a second.

No. Not that again. Starsky swallowed hard, not trusting himself to speak, suppressing the emotions that were threatening to explode. Hutch had this way of keeping him off-balance, especially when they were alone together.

"You love me, Starsk. I won't let you take it back." Hutch's words hung in the air. His face was mere inches away from Starsky's. The tension between them was so thick that it could've been cut into slices and served on a burger at dinner.

Sometimes love happens to the wrong people, at the wrong place.  "Take it back?"

"I said I won't let you take it back," Hutch snapped. His lips were drawn in a thin line. "You love me, Starsk. Don't you dare deny it. If you keep on this hide-and-seek game with me pretty soon I'll go out of my mind."

I wish it was a game so that I can play pretend. "Hide-and-seek?"

"Yes! Do you know what you do to me?" Hutch moved away slightly, rubbing his palms across his face. "I can't work. I can't think. You have crept into my head, my mind, my soul and I can't breathe. So don't you dare tell me that you don't love me, because the harder you try to get away from me, the stronger I'll fight you. I will haunt your dreams, Starsk, just the way you have haunted mine."

Taking advantage of the space between them, Starsky freed himself from the cage Hutch had created between the kitchen counters. He darted into the living room.  Welcome to my world, partner! You have been haunting me for years.

"Do you think I didn't know what you were doing?" Hutch turned back. "It took me a while to figure out why you tried to avoid me, why you stayed away from me. First I thought that you really didn't want me-- didn't want to be close to me because it disgusted you." His shoulders slumped. His face looked taut and thinner. "God, Starsk," he whispered. "I couldn't understand what made you drift away from me. I thought you could never love me the way I loved you."

I couldn't love him the way he did? "Love me?" Starsky couldn't decide on a spot where he could sit and think straight. Hutch talked too much. He could see the wheels turning in Hutch's mind, but one way or the other, Hutch had figured something out.

"What the hell's wrong with you? Why do you keep repeating my words? And why do you keep walking all over the place?" Hutch stood in the kitchen, watching Starsky move restlessly from one place to another. "This is not going to work, is it? There's only one way I could get my message into your head. Dammit, Starsk. You leave me no choice." In a couple of long strides, Hutch caught up with Starsky. He pinned him against the wall between the bedroom and the living room. Twisting his fingers in Starsky's hair, he pulled Starsky against him, crushing their mouths together. Hutch held him with such a force that there was no chance of Starsky moving away.

Starsky's knees almost gave out as Hutch plunged his tongue deep into his mouth. His brain shut down everything but the feel of Hutch inside him. Oh God, a prayer swished across his mind when Hutch deepened the kiss. With a hint of teeth, Hutch pulled at Starsky's bottom lip, making him gasp. Starsky was on the path of no return. He grasped for whatever he could hold on to in order to maintain his footing, and all he had was Hutch.

Hutch had invaded him. He had broken through the only barrier that kept Starsky sane. Hutch had figured out the secret code, the secret place, the secret touch to shatter his control.

Hutch released Starsky for a moment, looking into his eyes. "Tell me you don't want me, and I will stop right now. Tell me you don't feel anything, and I will leave you right now. I can't stand this torture anymore." He paused for a second. "Love me, Starsk," Hutch said, hoarsely. He pressed himself against Starsky, his body strong, and rigid against Starsky's lean form.

Starsky trembled when Hutch's lips descended on him again, feeling the tremors that ran through Hutch's body.

"I do, Hutch," Starsky whispered without flinching. "Have always loved you. Loved you from the very first day I saw you at the academy. Never stopped loving you." Just as the words escaped, Starsky could hear the locks he had placed around his heart cracking, breaking, and falling apart.

Hutch dragged Starsky to the bedroom, pushing him gently onto the bed. His arms were on Starsky's neck, arms and face, leaving a trail of fire coursing everywhere he touched.

How could Starsky say that he didn't want this when he had been waiting for this moment forever? But how could he want this when this could end their partnership? Starsky pushed Hutch away, pinning him down to the bed.

"This's gonna complicate your life a hell of a lot, Hutch. Do you know what you are asking for?" he asked, clamping Hutch's hands firmly beside his head.

"I want you," he said huskily. "Have wanted you for a long time." Hutch looked at him with smoky eyes.

"You don't need this, now." Starsky tried to reason with Hutch, ignoring the fire that threatened to consume him. Just one last chance to let him save himself, and their partnership. Starsky wanted to-- Oh, how he wanted to, but he had learned to suppress his desire. He had controlled his feelings, believing it was the right thing, and the only thing, to do. Believing that Hutch would never accept him as a lover. Believing they will never find themselves together as lovers.

"Don't tell me what I need," Hutch snapped. He forced Starsky's hands away and pulled Starsky onto him. "If I ever needed you, it is now, Starsk." Hutch's moist lips touched the hollow base at Starsky's neck, making Starsky close his eyes to seal this moment in his memory. "Tell me you don't want me, and I will stop," he said again. 

Stop? Stop what? How am I supposed to think when your lips are choking me to death? Starsky buried his nose in Hutch's soft silky hair, inhaling the aroma of soap mixed with Hutch's own scent.

Hutch's eyes glazed with desire. "Tell me you want me." He pressed small kisses to the sides of Starsky's throat, across his shoulders and along his collar bone.

"You. Only you." Starsky managed, sighing with pleasure. God, I'll die tonight. You are going to burn me, Hutch.

"I want you, Starsk," Hutch said shakily.  "Don't say no to me."

The ragged voice was all what it took to shatter Starsky's willpower to pieces. "How could I ever say no to you, Hutch? You are everything in my life, everything I ever wanted." Starsky gently pulled himself away from Hutch's grasp.

Hutch moaned at the lost contact. "No. Don't go," he protested, pulling Starsky closer, crushing him with love.

"I'm right here." Starsky cupped Hutch's face, burying his other hand through Hutch's hair. He kissed Hutch softly on his forehead. "Close everything out, Hutch. Tonight is just you and me, nothing else and no one else matters," Starsky whispered softly.  He kissed Hutch's closed eyes, running his fingers through Hutch's soft golden hair. No more tears, Hutch.

Hutch smiled into the caress, stroking Starsky's back with strong fingers. "I've wanted to do this for a long time."

"Yeah? For how long?" Starsky pressed his lips on Hutch's nose. Hutch gasped as if he forgot to exhale, turning his head to find Starsky's lips.

Flicking his tongue over Hutch's cheek, Starsky remembered how Vanessa had bruised Hutch the other day, praying the hurt would heal with his touch. Starsky pressed his lips on the faint bluish spot, bestowing a kiss.

Hutch panted, nuzzling Starsky's ear, licking a slick path along his jawline. "Starsk," he murmured, wrapping his hand around the back of Starsky's neck.

Starsky pressed his lips to Hutch's neck, over the pulsating artery that told him that he was holding Hutch's life in his hands. He used his index finger to trace a path along Hutch's long neck, followed with kisses trailing up to Hutch's jaw and down to his collar bone, tenderly caressing the scratches and bruises with his lips.

"You're having all the fun." Hutch trembled with need. He gripped a handful of Starsky's shirt."I want you-- Now," Hutch growled, almost tearing the material in two. Unable to unfasten all the buttons, Hutch pulled the garment over Starsky's head and tossed it on the floor. He tugged at Starsky's shorts.

"My show," Starsky hissed. "I'm giving to you." He pushed Hutch's hands up above his head and settled between Hutch's legs, fumbling with Hutch's shirt. He managed to unbutton the shirt between the kisses, running a hand over his abdomen. Hutch gasped, his muscles quivering under Starsky's hand.

"What are you going to do?" Hutch arched his body, pressing himself closer to Starsky.

"Tell me." Starsky grinned, planning all sorts of mischievous things to do with his captive. He reached for the button of Hutch's jeans.

"Everything," Hutch said, wiggling out of his pants. "Take me to a place where only you could take me to," he whispered.

Starsky bent his head, rubbing his lips against Hutch's. "I will- only you- only me," he whispered.

"I can't wait any longer, Starsk," he said, making Starsky roll onto his back. His tongue plundered Starsky's mouth making him breathless.

Whatever Starsky muttered was muffled by Hutch's moans. Starsky rolled his hips up to Hutch, grinding and pressing against him. He felt every slight curve in Hutch's body pressed against him. Hutch strained against Starsky, whimpers turning more desperate. Hutch cried out in rapture, locking lips with his partner. He shuddered and exploded, succumbing into a wave of release. Starsky's own release came just seconds later.

***

Starsky lay on his back, his injured arm lying safely on his left side. Hutch was beside him, still holding him with an iron tight embrace, his sweat-soaked head on Starsky's chest.

Our lives will never be the same again, Hutch.

Hutch raised his head off Starsky's chest and turned to lie on his stomach.  He moved his hand up Starsky's chest until he reached the dark curls, on left side.

"You okay?" Hutch asked, his lips curving in a shy smile. 

"I think you've short circuited me," said Starsky, leaning into Hutch's palm.

"Maybe I'll get to fix you next time," Hutch said with a cheeky grin.

"Next time?" Starsky managed the only thought that made any sense.

"What? Did you think this was just a one-time deal?" Hutch asked, rolling his eyes.

"I-I hadn't thought about it." Starsky blinked.

Hutch snorted. "This is why you should let me do the thinking, Starsk. I'm better at it."

"Oh, yeah? So what's gonna happen now?"

"Right now?" Hutch grinned wickedly. "I'm going to hot wire you."

The ugliness of the day was forgotten as their passion built and tumbled them over.  When Hutch finally surrendered to his exhaustion, Starsky pulled away from him, but Hutch woke up instantly.

"Starsk," Hutch mumbled in his sleep, pulling Starsky closer. He pressed against Starsky, straddling him and nuzzling up to his neck. "Why aren't you sleeping? What's wrong?"

"Nothing." Starsky dropped a kiss on Hutch's nose. "Go back to sleep. I have to go to the bathroom."

Hutch groaned. "Now?"

"Uh huh! You don't want me to wet the bed, do you?"

"I think it is wet already." Hutch grinned, his eyes closed.

"Shut up and sleep. I'll be back soon." Starsky gently pushed Hutch away and got out of the bed.

"I'm cold. Don't take too long."

Before leaving the room, Starsky stood at the door staring at the only person that mattered to him in this life. The faint light coming through the bedroom window from the streetlights revealed Hutch's naked body among tangled sheets. His Hutch, lying in his bed, wrapped in his sheets, after he had made love to him. The only love he would need for the rest of his life!

***

Starsky slid back into the bed and Hutch immediately cuddled into Starsky's embrace.

"You're not asleep?" asked Starsky, pulling the covers over them.

"No. Can't sleep when you are not around," Hutch mumbled.  "How do you always know what I want, Starsk?"

"I know you," Starsky whispered, holding him. He made small circles on Hutch's back with his finger. "Have studied you for more than three years now, partner. I know what you want." He pressed his lips onto Hutch's earlobe, making Hutch's toes curl in pleasure. "I know when you want it." He sucked on Hutch's neck just below his ear.  "And I know how you want it."

"You sound happy," Hutch said, turning onto his side and capturing Starsky's hand with his own. "Tell me that you are mine," Hutch said his voice thick with desire.

"Yours, only," Starsky said hoarsely, and the topsy-turvy world swung back into position. He pressed himself hard against Hutch, sighing and knowing that he was home.

"What do I need now?" Hutch murmured sleepily.

Starsky smiled knowingly. I don't have to tell you, Hutch. I only have to show you.

***

Lying back on the pillows, Starsky watched Hutch fall asleep. He gently placed one hand over Hutch's heart, feeling the steady beat as Hutch relaxed after their lovemaking. He liked that he'd been the one to put such a smile on his partner's face.

Starsky didn't want to close his eyes on this special day. He had made love to Hutch! He watched over his sleeping partner, pushing a damp lock of hair off Hutch's forehead, wishing the moon would light up their world forever.

Starsky's last conscious thought before sleep over came him was how well their bodies fit together.

***

"I love Saturdays," Starsky said, beaming happily. He was sitting in the sun porch, reading a newspaper while Hutch tended his plants. He had come over to canal cottage with Hutch in the morning. "So how are your little thingies doing?" he asked.

"I think they are happy to see Uncle Starsky." Hutch smirked, removing some dead leaves from the spider plant Starsky had given him.

"You think so?" Starsky asked, watching his relaxed and cheerful partner. Last night had been pure bliss, although Starsky couldn't help but wonder how they were going to handle their relationship in the future. "Hutch, I was thinking-"

Hutch groaned. "Thinking is not healthy for you, Starsk."

"Seriously, Hutch. We need to talk." Starsky patted the chair beside him.

"Am I in trouble?" Hutch asked, setting aside the knife he used to trim away dead leaves. He pulled Starsky into a deep kiss. "Need to do that to remind you who you belongs to, and to make you realize that you have no control over your feelings when you are with me," he said thickly, straddling the chair.

"You made me forget what I wanted to say." Starsky thought for a while, touching his lips where Hutch had just left his mark. "Ah, yes. I err- Hutch? How are we gonna handle this? I mean, we can't keep on sleepin' at each other's place all the time. You aren't legally divorced, yet, and then-"

"Starsk." Hutch stopped him, cupping his face with his palm. "I don't know all the answers for your questions. But I know that I love you, and that I want you with me for the rest of my life. We will have to be careful. Yes, we cannot go advertising that we are sleeping with each other. We'll have to be extra careful until the divorce is final. Brendon will talk with Vanessa's lawyer and come into a settlement. The only regret I have is that it'll take at least a year to get this over with, even if we settle out of court."

"A year?" Starsky asked, scowling.

"Yes. But I don't have to see her or meet with her, again. The lawyers will handle everything."

Starsky was relieved. He wouldn't have tolerated seeing any more scratch marks on Hutch's face.

"So you think we are going to be okay?" asked Starsky.

"We are going to be more than okay, as long as we are together. Besides, you owe me another bedtime story."

"I owe you what?" Starsky asked, wondering whether he heard Hutch correctly. A bedtime story?

"The first day you slept with me, here," Hutch reminded him. "I want to know how Charming and Handsome lived happily ever after, together."

"Ah, that one." Starsky's grin widened.  "I have a better idea," he said leaning forward and dropping a soft kiss on Hutch's lips. "Tonight, I'll show you how Charming and Handsome started to live happily ever after."

"Is that a promise?" Hutch whispered, pulling Starsky into his arms. 

"That is a promise!" Starsky murmured just before Hutch's lips closed on his.

***********************************The End *************************************

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