A bouquet of roses and lots of thanks to Solo and SHaron for all their help scanning and proofing these classic stories of Constance Collins! This story originally appeared in the zine It's Love, Cap'n, which can still be obtained from In Person Press.
Comments about this story can be sent to: VenicePlaceAngel@aol.com
This story is the sequel to Written in the Heart, also on the Archive.
Two Hearts One Fire
by
Constance Collins
Hutch was laughing like a lunatic, so hard he was falling out of the hospital bed. Starsky grabbed at him, but the water made him hard to get a hold of, and he hit the linoleum.
A nurse appeared at the door, a look of stunned disapproval on her face. "Just what do you men think you're doing in here?"
"Lady's voice could make ice cubes," Huggy muttered, edging toward the door with the lantern he'd retrieved. Another fierce look from the nurse and he was gone, hightailing it down the corridor. After a moment the sprinkler shut off.
Hutch's face was buried in his folded arms; he was sprawled on the floor, still laughing.
"Ma'am," Dobey began, trying to sound importantly official and soothing at the same time. "I'm Captain Dobey...this is not the way it looks."
Didn't thaw her out a bit. "Captain Dobey, I'd think you might have more sense--this man is a hospital patient." She seemed, suddenly, to notice Hutch. "Is that man intoxicated?"
"Not at all," Starsky lied immediately.
Dobey tried to continue, "I'm a police captain--"
The nurse fixed him with a stern look. "I take that to mean that you are to be held accountable for all this mayhem."
"Yes, ma'am," Starsky agreed, still trying to pull Hutch back up into his bed. "He's the one caused all this--he's always getting us in trouble--" Dobey shot him a look. Before he could respond, the nurse was stepping close to look into his eyes. "I want you to take this intoxicated man of yours out of my hospital before I get back with the dry sheets, or I'll have security remove you both. Is that clear?"
It was. Dobey gathered Hutch up off the floor and guided him to the door.
"Hutch." Dobey stopped as Hutch turned around. "I want blueberry waffles when you get back."
Hutch was laughing even harder as Dobey led him from the room.
The nurse efficiently got Starsky into dry pajamas and situated in a dry bed, all the while muttering about the foolishness of men, particularly drunk men.
Starsky smiled and relaxed, enjoying the pampering. "Ma'am?"
She looked up from the foot of the bed, where she'd been tucking in his sheets. "Yes?"
"That particular drunk is my best friend in the world."
She smiled at him. "I could see that. Now, you try to get some sleep, or you won't be getting out of here next week. I'll see to that myself ."
"Yes, ma'am."
~~~
Hutch insisted on taking Starsky's arm and helping him into the car. Thank God it wasn't Belle, Starsky thought. He nearly asked about Belle but settled for: "Where'd this one come from?" as Hutch climbed into the driver's side of the rusty white Impala.
"Cousin of Huggy's."
"Not hot is it?"
"Nope. I checked." He started the engine.
"Where we goin', your place or mine?"
"I thought yours; the steps at mine might be a little much for you."
"Good thinking."
They lapsed into a companionable silence. After a few minutes Hutch took his right hand off the steering wheel and took hold of Starsky's left. Starsky returned the subtle pressure.
"I'll be staying with you for a while," Hutch said.
"I thought you might be," Starsky agreed.
"You need somebody to look after you."
"I suppose so. But then, so do you."
"Did you want me to take the sofa, or--"
Starsky stroked the back of Hutch's hand with his free hand. "No."
Hutch glanced over at him. "You sure?"
"I'm sure."
"You need your rest," Hutch ventured.
"True. But I can rest with you in my bed--if you can promise to stay sober an' not go falling out on the floor."
"Yeah, I think I can do that."
Hutch returned his full attention to his driving. Starsky studied his profile, delighted with the cheerful grin on Hutch's face.
"After all," Starsky added, "I gotta get used to your snoring sometime, right?"
~~~
Hutch came home early in the afternoon to find Starsky stretched out on the sofa, surrounded by piles of books, sound asleep. One lay open on his chest, and Hutch carefully picked it up, expecting to see either a mystery or a cartoon book. He checked the spine: The Complete Poems of Emily Jane Bronté.
"She didn't write any other books," Starsky said sleepily, watching him. "Just that buncha poems. I checked."
Hutch leaned against the back of the sofa, flipping through the pages. "I can't say I ever thought of you as the poetry-reading type."
"It wasn't exactly my favorite part of English class, but this stuff's different--most of 'em are about suicide and death and revenge. The lady sure wasn't any Elizabeth Barrett Browning--not a grain of sweetness 'n' light in her."
"Of course, I wouldn't've bet you even knew who Elizabeth Barrett Browning was," Hutch added.
Starsky sat up. "Gimme back my book."
"Wait a minute, I'm not finished yet." Hutch stepped back, out of Starsky's reach.
A stronger passion breathed, burned, in this last farewell.
Unconquered in my soul the Tyrant rules me still;
Life bows to my control, but Love I cannot kill!
The words were devastating; Hutch dropped the book onto the sofa next to Starsky, then moved around to sit next to him.
"Scary, isn't it?" Starsky picked up the book, then lay down, putting his head in Hutch's lap. "Whyn'tcha read to me some more? I liked that a lot."
"You know what's happening here? You're turning into a house pet. Pretty soon I'm going have to put you on a leash and take you for walks, and you'll be hanging your head out the window when I take you for drives--"
"Just shut up an' read to me."
"All right, all right.
I die; but when the grave shall press
The heart so long endeared to thee,
When earthly cares no more distress
And earthly joys are naught to me,Weep not, but think that I have past
Before thee o'er a sea of gloom,
Have anchored safe, and rest at last
Where tears and mourning cannot come.`Tis I should weep to leave thee here,
On that dark Ocean, sailing drear,
With storms around and fears before
And no kind light to point the shore.But long or short though life may be
`Tis nothing to eternity;
We part below to meet on high
Where blissful ages never die."
"You see?" Starsky said excitedly, trying to sit up. "Isn't this stuff great?"
"Yes," Hutch agreed, dubiously, not altogether sure what they were talking about. "I see. I think."
Starsky settled himself down again. "Read some more."
Hutch moved the book to look down at him. "Ok, who are you? And what have you done with my partner?"
Blue eyes met blue eyes. "Read to me?"
"Cold in the earth, and the deep snow piled above thee!
Far, far removed, cold in the dreary grave!
Have I forgot, my Only Love, to love thee,
Severed at last by Time's all-wearing wave?Now, when alone, do my thoughts no longer hover
Over the mountains on Angora's shore;
Resting their wings where heath and fern-leaves cover
That noble heart for ever, ever more."
Starsky closed his eyes, letting the poetry sweep over him the way the poetry of Wuthering Heights had. He found it incredible that this woman who'd lived over a hundred years ago, who, according to the introduction in the poetry book, nearly never left her isolated home in Yorkshire, could have written these fierce, dark words--words that so flawlessly expressed how he felt about Hutch.
"Cold in the earth, and fifteen wild Decembers
From those brown hill have melted into spring-
Faithful indeed is the spirit that remembers
After such years of change and suffering!Sweet Love of youth, forgive if I forget thee
While the World's tide is bearing me along:
Sterner desires and darker hopes beset me,
Hopes which obscure but cannot do thee wrong.No later light has lightened up my heaven,
No second morn has ever shone for me:
All my life's bliss from they dear life was given-
All my life's bliss is in the grave with thee.But when the days of golden dreams had perished
And even Despair was powerless to destroy,
Then did I learn how existence could be cherished,
Strengthened and fed without the aid of joy;Then did I check the tears of useless passion,
Weaned my young soul from yearning after thine;
Sternly denied it's burning wish to hasten
Down to that tomb already more than mine!And even now I dare not let it languish,
Dare not indulge in Memory's rapturous pain;
Once drinking deep of that divinest anguish,
How could I seek the empty world again?"
The book hit the floor. Starsky opened his eyes to see Hutch looking down at him, his eyes bright with tears.
"You ok?"
Hutch nodded.
"You sure?"
Another nod.
Starsky sat up. "I'm still kinda sleepy; you feel like a nap?"
"Yeah," Hutch agreed, voice low and uneven. "Yeah, let's go lie down for a while."
They walked hand-in-hand to the bedroom. Starsky crawled under the covers; Hutch kicked off his shoes and got in next to him. They were wrapped in each other's arms in an instant, holding each other as if clinging to their souls. In a few moments they were sound asleep.
Daylight turned to twilight turned to nightfall. Cocooned in each other, they slept a dreamless, tranquil sleep. When sunrise wakened them, some of their private turmoils had dissolved.
~~~
Settled in the backseat of the car, Starsky leaned forward and whispered in Hutch's ear, "Let's skip Huggy's; let's go someplace dark, where nobody knows us an' we can make out between courses."
"You're crazy."
"Let's drive to 'Frisco an' go dancing."
"That's a helluva drive just for a couple of dips from Ramon."
"Let's go to Capistrano an' wait for the swallows to come back."
Hutch made a quick right turn. "We'll go to Denney's and hold hands under the table."
"Never knew you were such a romantic."
"There are things about me you don't know."
~~~
Starsky awakened to the familiar darkness of his bedroom and the even more familiar sensation of Hutch's hands stroking his face, his throat, his shoulders, his chest...
"Wha' time is it?" Their faces were so close Hutch could feel Starsky's lips brush his as he spoke.
"Just after midnight."
"Dobey's workin' you awful hard."
"You know Dobey."
"Yeah. Ya know, someday I'll be up for more than just this fumbling around--"
"So who asked you? I'm in no particular hurry."
"Yeah, well, I am. I wanna--" Starsky put his mouth against Hutch's ear, lowering his voice to a whisper as he fantasized aloud.
"That sounds wonderful," Hutch agreed, "but you need your sleep, and I'm not sure I could stay awake long enough...which would be embarrassing."
"Not to mention shattering my fragile ego."
"The only part of you harder than your granite head is your stainless steel ego. You couldn't blast through it with dynamite."
"Hey, my ego's just as sensitive as the next guy's."
"Yeah, keep forgetting how sweet 'n' delicate you are." Hutch's voice slowed, his words slurring as he drifted off.
"This is some hot romance we're gettin' into," Starsky complained, knowing he was not really complaining, knowing he was talking to himself. Hutch snuggled closer into him, beginning to snore. Starsky stroked the silvery blond silk that fell against his face, and let himself fade as well.
~~~
"I'm not sure this is possible," Starsky objected. He sat cross-legged on the bed, an over-sized paperback open in front of him, and as Hutch moved around the room getting ready for work he flipped through the pages, looking at the pictures, and every so often he'd reach out to lightly touch his partner as he walked by.
"Uh-huh," Hutch agreed, not paying much attention.
He skipped back a few pages. "An' I'm pretty sure this one just plain can't be done." He shook his head. "Not without dislocating something, anyhow...maybe something really important."
"Uh-huh," Hutch repeated; then, as Starsky's words sank in, he turned to stare at his partner, puzzled. "What did you say? What are you reading?" Starsky held up the book so Hutch could see the cover: The Joy of Gay Sex. Hutch sat down on the bed next to Starsky. "Where did you get that?"
Starsky returned his attention to the book. "Library."
"The library? When exactly did you go to the library?"
"I stopped on the way home from the hospital the other day."
"And you checked this out?"
Starsky suddenly became fascinated by the cover of the book. "Well, not exactly."
"What do you mean, not exactly?"
"I mean, I didn't exactly check it out, I more like took it out."
"You mean you stole it?" Hutch demanded.
"No I didn't steal it, I borrowed it, I just didn't check it out. An' I gotta tell you I'm kinda dubious about this book, anyway; I haven't read any of it but I've looked at the pictures, an' I just don't know..." Starsky handed Hutch the book. "You see something you might wanna try?"
Hutch took the book and began skimming through. Finally he stopped and handed the book back with a smile. "I think I could handle this."
Starsky glanced at the picture: a man lighting another man's cigarette. "You don't smoke anymore."
"I could start again."
"You're not taking this seriously."
Hutch got up off the bed. "What's not to take seriously? You're sitting here going through a sex manual like it's a Sears catalogue and tomorrow's Christmas."
"Well, what do you suggest?"
Uncomfortable with the whole conversation, Hutch tried to put an end to it. "I suggest we table this discussion until I get home from work." He took the book back, turned a few pages, and found a drawing of a man putting his shirt on. Giving it back to Starsky, he said, "I'm going to try this right now, ok? You can watch, if you want."
Starsky tossed the book at him. "Turkey."
"And then I'm going to work. With any luck I'll get home before midnight tonight--"
"Whyn'tcha take some time off? How much can Dobey gripe?"
"Plenty. We're still trying to put together a case against Gunther--"
"Tell him if you don't get some time off, I'll refuse to testify."
Hutch gave him a long look. "First off, if I told Dobey that, he'd stop by on his lunch hour and shoot you--and you know how much Dobey values his lunch hour. And second, that's not funny, and I don't want to hear it again."
Starsky stood up, walked to Hutch and touched his face lightly. "You're right, it's not funny. But I'm serious too; we need some time, and the way this case is dragging on, we're both gonna be fucking senile by the time it's all over and done with. If I don't get a little of your undivided attention sometime before the year two thousand, your star witness's gonna be taking the stand in a straight jacket."
Hutch finished buttoning his shirt. "What would you like me to tell Dobey?"
"As far as I'm concerned, you can tell him the truth: that if I don't get your hands on my body soon, I'm gonna start following you to work."
Hutch just stared at him; he would have sworn he could feel the blood moving through his veins. "Are you going into early senility?"
Starsky raised his chin, gave Hutch a challenging look. "Wassa matter? You chicken?" Before he could answer, Starsky took both of Hutch's hands in his. "I didn't mean that, I don't want to play any more games, I just want some time for us to talk."
"That I will tell Dobey, that we need some time to talk; what we actually do with our time is our business--deal?"
"Deal." Starsky released Hutch's hands from his tender grip and solemnly they shook on it. Then he picked up the book and returned to the bed. A twenty dollar bill floated down on the page he was reading; Starsky looked up questioningly into Hutch's face.
"Take that back to the library and go to the bookstore. I can't have a partner who rips off books from the library... I didn't even know you knew where the library was, and now I find out you spend most of your time there."
"Lotsa things I know that you don't know I know."
"That's what I'm afraid of. I'll see you tonight."
"Early tonight!" Starsky called after him; if Hutch responded, Starsky didn't hear.
~~~
They lay together on the bed as twilight approached. When Hutch had arrived home the shades were pulled, the lights were dimmed, and the Bolero was playing on the stereo. He'd asked Starsky if this was standard operating procedure, seduction-wise, but instead of an answer, he'd been led into the bedroom and handed a beer.
They'd never gotten around to discussing dinner, but Hutch had returned to the kitchen for more beer. Starsky'd had his allotted half a can, and Hutch was up to four and a half. Somehow stretching out on the bed, getting drunk together, seemed the most reasonable thing in the world to do.
"You know what?"
"What?"
"I'm fed up with shavin', an' I'm not gonna do it anymore."
Hutch turned to look at his somewhat intoxicated partner, then stroked his stubbled cheek. "Oh, yeah? You know, Dobey might not like that--remember what he had to say about my mustache?"
"Fuck Dobey."
Hutch chuckled. "Haven't even fucked you, yet."
"Night's young."
Hutch rolled over, propping himself up on one elbow; he was uneasy with the direction the conversation seemed to be heading, and he wanted clarification. "Listen, you were just jerking my chain this morning when you said I should tell Dobey the truth, right?"
Starsky smiled up at him, an unfocused, but somehow very sexy smile. "Sure I meant it; why shouldn't I mean it?"
"Because it wouldn't be fair--and it would put him in a terribly awkward position."
"I'd agree with that, if I thought I was gonna go back--which I kinda doubt. And how fair would it be not to tell him?"
A sigh from Hutch. "That's true."
"An' Huggy, we hafta tell Huggy."
"Good grief."
"My mom, an' Nick--your folks--"
"Starsk--"
"Minnie," Starsky went on in a dreamy voice, "an' Merle, Kiko an' Molly an' their mom, Kira--oh, an' Simonetti an' Dryden, we oughta call and tell them right now--"
"Starsky!"
"What?"
"Get a grip, will you?" Then he started to laugh. "Simonetti and Dryden! Why not the commissioner, and the mayor, while we're at it? How many beers did you have before I got home?"
"I've just been thinking today, an' I think it's a mistake to keep this thing a secret; that's just no way to live."
"You never cease to amaze me," Hutch whispered.
"I do my best."
"You start off shocking the hell out of me by telling me you want to sleep with me. I thought that was the last thing I ever expected to hear from you, but I was wrong. That you want to throw a coming out party is the last thing."
"So far."
"So far."
"Hadn't thought of a party--"
Hutch put a hand over Starsky's mouth. "What does it take to keep you quiet?"
Starsky pushed himself up till his lips met Hutch's. "That's what it takes. Now, you wanna talk, or you wanna fool around?"
Common sense told him they should do neither one, but it seemed a little late to start listening to common sense. "Let's fool around; you're too stoned to talk to." Hutch returned the kiss, and wrapped his arms around Starsky. "Actually, there was a picture on pages one-oh-six and one-oh-seven I liked--"
"One-oh-six and one-oh-seven?"
"It's a big picture."
"Oh. Did you wanna tell me about it?"
Hutch nuzzled at his neck. "I'd rather show you."
"Whatever you wanna do..."
He tightened his grip on Starsky and rolled over on his back, pulling Starsky over on top of him, not breaking the kiss; then he unsnapped and unzipped Starsky's jeans and slipped both his hands inside to clasp Starsky's ass.
Starsky moaned into his mouth, moved under his hands, kissing and biting at his lips. Hutch wasn't sure what response he'd expected, but it wasn't this explosion of passion. He'd become so accustomed to Starsky's recent drowsy, sleepy-eyed demeanor that he'd nearly forgotten his daring, audacious partner. The thought of that ferocious enthusiasm channeled into their lovemaking was bedazzling, frightening--and totally irresistible. He pushed down Starsky's jeans to get at him more easily.
And Starsky was helping him; hands frantically pulling off his shirt, then tugging at Hutch's shirt, at his slacks, until all their clothes lay in tangled heaps on the floor, and their bare skin was pressed together at every point possible.
Starsky wrapped his arms around his neck so tight Hutch could barely breathe, wrapped his legs around one of Hutch's, pulling Hutch's thigh against his crotch. Hutch was expecting a hard-on identical (or nearly so) to his own, but his thigh--and then his hand--found warm, sweet softness instead. Starsky pulled his mouth away and whispered into Hutch's mouth. "Sorry, but those drugs are a bitch, an' the beer didn't help--but I don't wanna wait any longer--"
"Is there anything I can do to help?"
"Don't think so. Does it--bother you? 'Cause I don't wanna stop--"
"Doesn't bother me." Hutch couldn't bring himself to add the truth: that he was actually kind of relieved that, whether Starsky liked it or not, his mad dash to be `deflowered' had to be slowed to a loiter.
"Then for God's sake don't stop!" And his mouth was back on Hutch's.
So he continued stroking Starsky's cock, his own growing painfully hard, pressing insistently against Starsky's thigh. He tried to say something, but Starsky refused to release his mouth; after a moment his hands found their way down between Hutch's legs--and Hutch lost all control...
The room spun upside down, rightside up, and he and Starsky were clinging to each other, Starsky sobbing, "Love you, I love you, I love you--" over and over in his ear.
"I love you," Hutch agreed, finally catching his breath. "I--God, that was incredible."
"Really," Starsky agreed. "Fucking fireworks. This is gonna sound pretty weird, but I swear I just came."
Hutch peered at him, unable to see his face clearly in the now-dark room. He slipped a hand down to touch Starsky's still soft penis.
"I didn't even know that was possible without..."
Hutch kissed him. "So maybe you're the first. We'll call Ripley's in the morning."
"Really. Hey, you know what?"
"What?"
"I am starving. What's say we head for The Pits, get some dinner?" Hutch just looked at him--or, rather, at the darkness where he knew Starsky's face was. "Huggy can be the first--"
"I knew you were going to say that--"
"Yeah? And?"
"And no, I don't want to tell Huggy!"
"You don't think he should be the first?"
"I don't think anyone should be the first--get some clothes on and we'll have dinner; but we're not telling anyone anything. Is that clear enough for you?"
"Well, who died and put you in charge? If I wanna tell Hug--"
"You did, remember?" It was the first joke he'd been able to make about Starsky's death, and with it he felt the weight of the universe slip off his shoulders. "I'll say I've never seen you before in my life."
"Yeah, he'll buy that."
"Starsky, I'm serious, I don't want to--"
"All right, all right, I won't say anything, but it won't matter anyhow, Huggy'll know right away."
"How?"
"Can't you tell? I'm glowing!"
"That's when you're pregnant, turkey."
"Oh. Well, then I look--taken."
"You haven't begun to be 'taken' yet, Sleeping Beauty, and if you go around blabbing to everyone we see, you never will be. Now put your clothes on."
Starsky sighed, reached over and switched the light on. "Yes, sir, whatever you say, sir."
Hutch had to admit (if only to himself) that Starsky did look different: somehow both more relaxed and more excited. The sight of him, naked and sweaty, disheveled and practically trembling with delight, was more than enough; Hutch pulled him back down on the bed and climbed on top of him. "We'll have a late dinner."
"Does this mean I'm about to be 'taken'?"
"Could be, could be."
Starsky grinned. "You serious?"
Hutch shook his head. "Too soon, babe; anyway, I want you at peak performance level before things get more serious."
Starsky nodded. "I don't like it, but you're probably right. I guess it's a good thing one of us has a cool head about this, or I'm not sure I could stop..."
Hutch grinned back at him. "You must've been murder on a date in high school--how many girls actually ever said no to you?"
"More than I like to remember; you're the only one ever found me this irresistible."
"I doubt that. C'mon, we better go have dinner, before things get out of hand--"
"So to speak."
With great effort--more emotional than physical--Hutch rolled off his partner and leaned over to pick up his clothes.
The next thing he knew he was sprawled on the floor with Starsky looking down at him, laughing, responsible for the shove that had landed him there. "What the hell--?!"
"You said you'd try to stop falling out of bed like that," Starsky accused.
"Falling out of--you pushed me! What's the big idea?"
"Me? Push you?" Starsky was all outraged innocence. "Why would I do a thing like that?"
"Because you're a lunatic." Hutch gathered up all the clothes, Starsky's as well as his own, and headed for the bathroom.
A pillow hit him in the back of the head. "Where're you going with my clothes?"
Hutch dropped everything. "You just hit me with a pillow."
"Do you have any witnesses?"
Hutch picked up the pillow at his feet and started menacingly toward the bed. "Witnesses! I don't need any witnesses; I know all I need to: that you are certifiable."
"I don't know why you'd say that." Starsky pitched the other pillow at him, hitting him in the face.
"Bad move," Hutch advised, picking up the other pillow.
Starsky scooted across the bed toward the wall. "Hutch? Remember, I've only been outta the hospital a very short time--"
"It's my duty as an officer of the law to subdue any dangerous maniacs I come across--"
"I'm not a dangerous maniac; I'm your partner, your friend--"
Hutch leaned across the bed with one of the pillows and smacked Starsky over the head with it.
"Hey, I'm unarmed!"
With the finesse of Errol Flynn returning Basil Rathbone's sword in the middle of a duel, Hutch relinquished one of the pillows to Starsky, quickly hitting him again before he could pick it up.
"Hey!" Starsky protested, then whacked Hutch in the head.
The pillow fight continued. Hutch pulled his punches, let Starsky pummel him while he fought back only enough to keep Starsky from clobbering him.
Finally, worn out (and catching a certain glassiness in Starsky's eyes) Hutch threw down his pillow and tackled his partner, pinning him spread-eagle to the bed. Starsky smirked at him. "So, you give?"
Hutch stared at him in disbelief. "Do I give? Take a look around, turkey--who's got who pinned?"
"Yeah, well, you may have the advantage physically, but I've got you under my spell. Now lemme up, I can't breathe."
Hutch shifted his weight off Starsky, but did not let him up. "You'll get up when you say 'uncle'--"
"Fuck you!"
"--and not before."
"Hutch--!" It was a delicious whine: plaintive and frantic to get his own way. Hutch never had been able to resist it for long, and his resistance was down. He pushed himself off Starsky.
"Can I trust you?"
Starsky leered at him for a moment, then held out his hand. "Peace treaty?"
"Peace," Hutch agreed taking his hand.
Starsky pulled him down, kissed him. "You know what they say: Make love, not war."
"I'm more than willing to give that a try."
~~~
"I talked to Dobey and he's taken me off everything but the Gunther case, so I'll have more time off and we'll have more time to spend together."
"Did you tell him why--"
"No, I didn't tell him why, and I'm not going to." Starsky's fingers played along the back of Hutch's neck, ruffling through the newly shorn hair. Hutch swatted at him. "I'm gonna drive right off the road if you don't cut it out."
Starsky took his fingers away, blew Hutch a kiss. "You think I'm irresistible, doncha?"
Hutch sighed. "Not irresistible; dangerously disturbed. But I've learned how to handle you."
"Oh, yeah? Wanna show me whatcha learned?"
"We're on our way to The Pits, we might as well have dinner first."
"Hey, you know what I really wanna do?"
Sure he didn't want to know the answer, Hutch asked what Starsky really wanted to do.
"I wanna go to a movie. You know how long it's been since I've seen a movie?"
"You watched Them on TV just last night."
"Not a movie on TV, a real movie in a theatre. And anyhow, I've seen Them a million times'r more."
"What about dinner? I thought you were hungry."
"We'll sneak some food in. We can go to The Pits tomorrow."
"I suppose you've already got the movie picked out."
"Uh-huh."
"And I suppose it's something I don't wanna see."
"Prob'ly not, but humor me, ok? I see commercials for it all day long, an' I really wanna see it."
Hutch sighed, asked which movie.
"Friday the 13th."
Hutch glanced at him. "Never heard of it."
"It looks terrific--a buncha kids at a summer camp get stalked by a psycho with a knife."
"Sounds charming. Where's it playing?"
"Paramount."
"In Hollywood? Starsky, not even Dirty Harry would go to Hollywood at this time of night."
"Hutch--" Again the delicious whine, and Starsky's fingers went back to his neck.
Again Hutch swatted at him. "All right, all right. You're getting downright spoiled."
"You oughta know, you're the one spoiling me."
"That's a good point," Hutch admitted.
~~~
Starsky crumpled the Burger King bag and stuffed it under the seat in front of him. He slurped up the rest of his malt, smashed the cup, and tossed it on the floor with the bag. He'd eaten all the food they'd sneaked in during the opening credits and prologue.
Now he leaned close and whispered in Hutch's ear. Hutch turned to look at him incredulously. "What?"
"Popcorn, I want some popcorn. An' a coke, an' some M&M's."
"You just ate two hamburgers, a large order of fries, and a strawberry shake; you can't possibly still be hungry. And I'm still trying to figure out how you got all that food in here without anybody seeing it."
"Stuck it in my holster. C'mon, Hutch, I gotta keep my strength up," Starsky whispered back. "You gonna buy me my popcorn, or not?"
Hutch looked at him in the flickering movie lights; it was frightening the way Starsky could eat everything in sight and still be hungry.
"Well?" He whispered the demand.
"Yeah, yeah, I'll be right back." He wasn't sorry to miss any of the movie.
"Make it a large popcorn!" Starsky whispered loudly after him.
Juggling the food, Hutch returned just in time to see a girl being chased through the woods by--the camera? Apparently the scene had been shot from the killer's point of view--just what he'd always wanted to see. Starsky immediately took the Coke and candy from him. Hutch held the cardboard bucket on his lap.
Against his will, Hutch found himself growing interested in the plot, despite the frequent gory murders. Mostly he just wanted to know who the hell was committing the murders. Without thinking about it, he started nibbling on the popcorn.
Starsky finished his M&M's and dropped the bag on the floor. Then he started in on the popcorn. They sat in silence, both watching the screen intently, fingers meeting every so often in the bucket.
Hutch shook the popcorn bucket to sift the unpopped kernels and hulls to the bottom, spilling popcorn into his lap. Starsky nudged him. "Klutz." Pushing the bucket aside Starsky started scooping up the kernels between Hutch's legs and eating them.
"Starsky, stop that."
"Don't wanna get butter all over your pants, do you?" Though he'd obviously retrieved them all, Starsky continued probing around Hutch's crotch.
"Starsky! Cut it out!"
"I gotta be sure I got it all, don't I?" Starsky whispered innocently. His fingers found Hutch's balls and fondled them through the material. "I don't think there's any more here--"
"Starsky, if you don't stop that--" Hutch was finding it more and more difficult to concentrate on what he was trying to say.
"I think there's one more piece..."
Hutch grabbed Starsky's hand, hauled him to his feet, and dragged him down the theatre aisle toward the exit. Once the door had closed behind them he pulled his partner into a tight embrace. Starsky was kissing him, laughing, running his hands up and down Hutch's body.
Hutch nuzzled his face into Starsky's neck. "You're incorrigible. What am I gonna do with you?"
"You asked me that once before, but you wouldn't let me answer."
"How can we go out in public if you do things like that?"
"Can't help it, you feel so good I can't get enough of you."
Hutch slid his hands down to Starsky's ass. "Groping me in public... Starsky..."
"This what being newly-weds feels like?" Starsky murmured in his ear. He took one of Hutch's hands and pressed it to his crotch.
"Um--sorta... I guess..." Hutch pulled back abruptly, startled by the hard-on he felt. "When did this happen?"
"While I was neatening up your lap. I didn't tell you, but last week the doc told me I could quit the pills, so I flushed 'em. I've just been waiting for this. Let's get outta here, go home before we get picked up for something."
"Lewd and lascivious conduct?" Hutch suggested.
"Yeah, beauty-ful, take me home an' do somethin' lascivious to me."
~~~
"You want me to turn out the light?"
"Nope. I want to see your face."
"Not much to look at," Starsky objected.
Hutch stroked one bristly cheek. "That's your opinion. I like your face; I like looking at it."
Starsky smiled, obviously pleased by this casual compliment. "Yeah. I like yours, too. So, what're we waiting for? Let's get this show on the road."
"Who's in charge here?"
A grin. "You probably think you are."
"Uh-huh, I am. Just remember that."
Nervous as all hell, Hutch opened the can of Crisco Starsky had provided. "This is tacky, you know. What's wrong with a jar of Vaseline or something?"
"Vaseline doesn't taste so great."
"Oh, Jesus." Hutch again felt his face go hot. Life with Starsky looked as if it was going to keep him in a constant state of embarrassment. "Just shut up and spread your legs."
"So that explains your phenomenal success with women--it's the smooth way you talk." But Starsky did as he was told.
"Yeah," Hutch agreed, "that's it--just like your 'let's get this show on the road' makes 'em swoon."
Starsky reached up and stroked Hutch's face. "Babe, make love to me."
That sweet, trusting request moved Hutch deeply. He leaned over and kissed Starsky's lips, then he knelt between Starsky's legs and brought his knees up to his chest. He dipped into the shortening, warmed it between his hands, and carefully slipped in one greasy finger. Starsky moaned a little, squirmed a little, his muscles squeezing Hutch's finger.
"Okay?"
"Yeah. Okay." He writhed a little more, getting more comfortable with the unfamiliar fullness. "Go on."
Two fingers went in, then three. Starsky made whimpering sounds in his throat, frightening Hutch until he realized that they were born of frustration, not pain. He reached up and stroked down the shaft. Starsky gasped. "Hutch!"
"You think you're ready?"
"Yes, you sadist--hurry up!"
Penetrating Starsky was much different than Hutch had expected; not physically, although the incredible tightness was the most arousing thing he'd ever felt. But it was emotionally that this love-making beat-out all the rest. More than he could ever remember, this act bound together not only their hearts and minds, but their bodies and souls. It wasn't just Starsky's body he was satisfying--somehow he was touching Starsky's essence with his own.
Hyacinth flames blossomed in Starsky's eyes. "You got me on fire," he said softly. "You're burnin' me up from the inside out."
Too excited to last long, Hutch came much more quickly than he wanted to. He grabbed Starsky, kissing him frantically, barely aware of his partner's repeated, "You won't believe it, Hutch, you won't believe it--"
And Hutch understood that the surrender he'd thought his partner had made was no surrender at all. Starsky had lured him with submissiveness, and captured him with his passion; seduced him with love and trapped him in this ecstasy of perfect oneness.
That realization, that Starsky had relinquished nothing, was even at this moment taking rather than giving, set Hutch's dubious mind once and for all. No longer was there any question--he wanted to be fucked by Starsky, wanted Starsky to touch his being as he touched Starsky's now, wanted to experience his partner's masculinity and show him what being taken really meant.
Hutch found the Crisco, put it in Starsky's hands without a word. Starsky looked at him, surprised. "Babe--? Are you sure--?"
"Please, yes, now!" He lay on his stomach, not trusting himself even to look at Starsky. In spite of the powerful orgasm, he was still painfully hard.
Starsky's fingers stroked at his ass, making tentative attempts at entry.
"Starsky!" Hutch shivered, pushed against the soft fingers. "Just for God's sake do it!" Somehow this fierce, sweet, protective tenderness was the last trait Hutch expected Starsky's love-making to show. He was beginning to wish Starsky would ignore the pain he might cause and get on with it.
Then, slowly, with the greatest care, Starsky began to enter him. There was pain at first, but as Hutch forced himself to relax the pain diminished, replaced by an unbelievable fullness. He bit down on the pillow under his head.
"You okay?" Starsky's lips were next to his ear, warm breath tickling him. Hutch nodded. "You sure?"
"Sure." It was all he could do to get the word out. Starsky was making hesitant attempts at moving in and out, and it was driving him wild. "Starsk, I'm not some delicate little--!" Words failed him, but his message was clear; Starsky's pace picked up, became rougher and even more exciting. Starsky was inside his body; the thought drifted into his mind, and he shuddered as if a cold wind had passed through him. Only once before could he remember having a feeling anything remotely like this incredible combination of contentment and elation. He'd never told anyone, not even Starsky, how astonishingly wonderful the heroin had made him feel. The high had been limitless joy; but coming down had brought such unbearable pain, and guilt, and an unendurable feeling of uncleanness that he never in his right mind wanted to go back up again. In this moment, with Starsky pressed against him, inside him, one hand beneath him, stroking his cock possessively, as if it were his own, the scrambled pieces of the universe fell into place. It was so right that the answer to every question should be his Starsky...
A warm, sticky wetness filled him, and Starsky chewed at the back of his neck--it was enough--more than enough--to tip him over again...
As Starsky softened inside him he felt those velvety lips touched his ear. "Do ya love me?"
Hutch struggled to get turned over, pulled Starsky into his arms and began kissing up and down his face and throat, found his hands and kissed them. "Do I love you? Do I love you?"
"Yeah, do you?"
"Yes. I love you."
"Terrific." Fully satisfied, Starsky switched out the light, pulled the covers up around them, then snuggled against Hutch. "G'night, babe."
Hutch smothered a laugh, kissed Starsky's mouth. "Good night, babe."
~~~
Hutch held the door for Starsky, watched him swagger into The Pits, then followed him inside. Starsky was right about one thing--he did look different: he looked like a man in love. No way would Huggy miss that one; but what Starsky would say Hutch couldn't imagine. And his partner as an unknown quantity was always a spooky proposition.
Huggy greeted Starsky as if he hadn't seen him in decades, sat him down at a table, and yelled for Anita to bring them some beers.
Hutch put a hand on Huggy's arm. "We're on our way downtown; today's Starsky's Review Board."
"Spoilsport," Starsky said, but he was grinning. "Skip the beer, I'll have a rootbeer. An' whatcha got good to eat, Hug?"
"Hey, everything I serve is good; you oughta know that by now."
"Be careful," Hutch warned, "he may just eat everything."
"I'd like a steak," Starsky mused. "And a baked potato--make that two baked potatoes, a nice big salad, corn on the cob--"
"My partner, The Monster That Ate Cleveland."
"Sounds good," Starsky agreed. He turned to Anita. "Bring me Cleveland--extra mustard."
"Has he flipped?" Anita asked Huggy. "Who eats like that for breakfast?"
"Bring him the steak," Hutch told her. "It's better than his usual breakfast."
Starsky turned back to Hutch, staring straight into his partner's eyes. "I'll forget the steak if you promise I can have all the popcorn I want, later."
Hutch put his face in his hands, hoping no one had seen the blush spread across his face. No one else, he amended to himself; he knew Starsky had by the way he laughed.
"And blueberry waffles," Starsky added. "Whaddaya say?"
"Shut up and eat your steak."
"Anybody who'd trade a steak for popcorn, really is flipped," Anita told him.
"So, what's up?" Huggy asked, looking back and forth between the two of them.
"Saw a great movie the other night, Hug." Starsky began to describe the film, going into unbelievably elaborate detail when he got to the murders (even though Huggy had apparently already seen the movie). Hutch wondered what Starsky would do when he got to the place in the film where he'd spilled his popcorn.
Finally Hutch could take no more. He picked up a roll and stuck it in Starsky's mouth. "Will you please shut up? You're making me sick."
Starsky looked at him strangely. "Wassa matter? You watched this movie last night and it didn't make you sick."
"The movie wasn't as graphic as your descriptions: And last night I was too busy worrying about being mugged to be nauseated. Huggy, can you believe he insisted we go to the Paramount last night?"
"Lucky you weren't part of the body count," Huggy commented.
"Now can you please change the subject?"
"So, where you two guys been hidin'? Haven't seen you 'round here in what seems like forever."
Starsky gave Hutch a cat-who-swallowed-an-aviary smile; before he could say anything, Hutch said the first thing that came to mind. "Gunther's trial's coming up, it takes a lot of preparation."
"Uh-huh," Starsky agreed. "We've been preparing for the trial."
Huggy looked back and forth between the two of them, confusion all over his face. Finally he asked what time Starsky had to be downtown."
Hutch checked his watch. "Shit, we've only got ten minutes. Come on, finish that up, we gotta get out of here."
"Yeah, yeah." Still chewing, Starsky wiped his mouth with his napkin and stood up. "Fix up a special dinner, Hug; tonight's gonna be a big night."
"So, you wanna let a friend in on your secret?"
Starsky patted his arm. "Tonight, Hug."
Hutch waved his goodbye, and they left The Pits.
~~~
"What're you thinking about?"
"Time my car broke down in fronta your place and I had to spend the night on your sofa."
"That was the Maverick, wasn't it?" Hutch asked.
"Yeah. That was one rotten car."
"You pick the oddest times to think about the oddest things."
"So what're you thinking about?"
Hutch sighed. "I'm trying not to think at all. I see you shaved today."
"Yeah. Thought I might as well. You know, what I'd like to do is just write out my resignation an' skip the whole damn thing."
"Boy, you're in a cheery mood today."
"Well, what's the point of going through all this when the end result's gonna be the same? One way or another I'm through--"
"What?"
"--so I might as well--"
"What do you mean, the end result's the same?"
"Hutch, I feel terrific; I haven't felt this good in a helluva long time. There's no way they're not gonna let me go back to work--"
"Then what's the problem?"
"You an' me. IA. Dobey. I dunno if this means we're gay or bi or who knows what--we haven't got this all figured out by a long shot, but do I know I'm not ready to start living a double life, an' if the choice is between you an' the LAPD--well, hell, you know my choice."
Hutch checked his rear view mirror, then pulled over to the curb and stopped the car. "Are you telling me that you're going to resign because you're scared of IA? Of what people will say?"
Starsky just looked at him, a long, frozen moment. "No, that's not what I'm telling you."
"Then what--" But Hutch knew; it wasn't that Starsky was afraid, it was that he knew Hutch was. Without another word, Hutch put the Impala back into gear and drove the last few blocks to Parker Center. He pulled into his parking space, shut off the engine, and got out of the car.
"Hutch?" Starsky saw Dobey walking across the parking lot toward them. As he was about to wave, Hutch yanked the door open.
"Get out of the car."
The words pelted Starsky like ice cubes. He got out of the car. Hutch's hands gripped his shoulders, pulled him close; then Hutch was kissing him, flat on the mouth, right in the middle of the parking lot at nine-forty-six in the morning.
The kiss went on and on; Starsky had a ringing in his ears, a sparkling blackness behind his eyes, and a fleeting thought that this must be what fainting felt like. Then Hutch drew back, still holding him firmly.
"You and I have never run away from a fight, and I'll be damned if we're going to start now. If they wanna kick us off the force, let 'em try. Now you get your ass up to that Review Board. I have things to do--I'll be at my desk when you get through."
Dazed, Starsky just nodded. Hutch stroked his cheek, turned, and walked away. Suddenly he swung around and called out, "Personally, I can't wait to see the look on Simonetti's face the first time I kiss you in the hall!"
Stunned, Starsky just stood for a moment watching Hutch walk away. Then he ran after him, "Hey, Hutchinson, you get your ass over here; you're comin' with me!"
Finally Hutch turned, stopped, waited for Starsky to catch up with him. "You're a big boy, you don't need me to hold your hand."
"Listen, you big dummy, Dobey saw us. Now, as long as you're still my partner, if I gotta go up there an' face him after that kiss, you gotta come along too."
Hutch looked into Starsky's pleading face. For all his talk of telling everyone they knew that they were lovers, now that someone actually knew, Starsky was quite unnerved. Hutch smiled. "I have to?"
"That's what a partner's for." Starsky slung one arm around Hutch's shoulders. "Hey, you really gonna kiss me in the hall?"
"Uh-huh."
"T'riffic."
end