Chrysalis
 

by Hutchlover and MysticWhim

Chrysalis:
the pupa of a butterfly, encased in a cocoon

March, 1980

"Man, that pizza hit the spot," Starsky sighed, taking a slug of his beer. His partner, seated beside him, nodded in agreement. They both slouched back, propping their feet on the coffee table, happy and stated.

"Do you think Simonetti figured out it was you?" Hutch asked, amusement twinkling in his eyes again.

Starsky chuckled. "I'm sure he has his suspicions..." The chuckle quickly turned into a full laugh.

Hutch shook his head, joining him in laughter. "I still can't believe you pulled that off. Hey, where did you get all that underwear from?"

"I bought it. I was shopping after Valentines Day and I saw a clearance sale on all these goofy bikini briefs and thongs with hearts and flamingos and smiley faces and stuff, and I had a sudden...inspiration!"

"Inspiration!" the blonde sputtered. "Is that what you call it?"

"When you told me about that Mardi Gras party that Simonetti was throwing, I figured that would work great. I could put all the underwear in everybody's in-box at work with the note. Geez, buyin' all them skivvies cost me a small fortune!" His eyes widened at the confession.

Hutch laughed harder. "But Starsk, it was worth every penny!" They both laughed harder. "And I love the note you put in there." He quoted, "Property of Officer Simonetti. I apologize for rummaging through his underwear drawer at the party the other night. I'm ashamed for my actions. Please return to I.A. Signed, Anonymous. That was brilliant, Starsk. Just brilliant."

"I put the furry thong in his supervisor's in-box, and the one with the hearts I put in Dryden's." The both doubled up laughing again, tears joining their merriment. "I sent a jock strap to Dobey! Extra small!" Hutch roared with joy.

"The best part was seeing the look on his face when everyone started to deposit the underwear on his desk, one by one! Man, I wish I had a camera for that."

Starsky reached out and grasped Hutch's forearm. "Clemens from the lab brought his camera! He got a picture of it!" Hutch clapped his hands in delight, laughing too hard to reply verbally. "His face was beet red, and he was fuming, this huge pile of hideous underwear in front of him, and Clemens recorded it for posterity!"

"Perfect, Starsky. Just perfect," Hutch managed to praise, while trying to catch his breath.

Starsky folded his hands on his full belly and gave Hutch his innocent look, but there was pure mischief in those violet eyes. "I had to do something, Hutch. He was such a jerk to you when I was recovering from the shooting, and nobody calls my partner 'a liar, delinquent or just plain stupid'." Then he added with a cocky grin, "Only I get to do that."

Hutch draped his arm around Starsky's shoulders and offered a gentle squeeze. "Thanks, Starsk." He pulled the warm shoulders closer, and leaned forward to place an affectionate kiss on Starsky's lips.

Starsky's eyebrows shot up in surprise, but his lips parted instinctively. He had wanted to share this with Hutch for some time now. As his tongue touched upon Hutch’s lips, the latter parted his, changing the kiss from one of affection to one of desire. They shared a soft and loving kiss, warm and expressive.

Hutch reached up to cup Starsky's face with his free hand, gently caressing the cheek of his partner. After a long moment, the kiss ended, and Hutch began to pull back, only to freeze mere inches from Starsky's face.

Starsky could see the shock register in Hutch's eyes, and realized that his friend had acted impulsively, and sincerely.

Hutch slowly released Starsky from his grasp and sat back. He wanted to open his mouth to speak, but was at a loss for what to say. Fear and embarrassment flickered in his bright blue eyes as he turned to his friend.

Gently, Starsky reached out to Hutch. He placed his fingers on the lips of his friend, offering an understanding smile, stopping him from speaking. Then his fingertips reached up to gently brush against the blonde bristles of Hutch's mustache.  He felt Hutch relax, but noted his cheeks glowed with a vibrant blush. After a moment, Starsky withdrew his fingers, then leaned closer to Hutch. He paused, looking to his friend, giving him the chance to react.

The blush faded from Hutch's cheeks. He watched Starsky with wonder, aware that his friend was not upset by his gesture, and in fact returned it enthusiastically.

When Starsky felt certain that Hutch understood his intentions and was not withdrawing, he leaned further into Hutch, his hand cupping the blonde head and pulling him into another kiss. The kiss was warm and wet and wonderful. The feel of the mustache was unique, yet not unpleasant. Starsky's fingers threaded through Hutch's hair, sometimes grasping, sometimes petting the soft strands.

Hutch wrapped his arms about his partner holding him tightly against himself in the embrace. He released the tight hold he had on Starsky, leisurely running his hands over his partner's back.

The slow kiss ended and they parted. The two men faced each other, each set of surprised eyes studying the face of the other. Hutch reached out and tenderly stroked his thumb across Starsky's lower lip.

Keeping an intent gaze on his friend, Starsky turned into the gentle hand and he lightly kissed the thumb, then opened his lips to caress the pad of the thumb with his tongue, feeling and tasting the unique texture.

Starsky's tongue stroking his thumb that way sent an intense reaction straight to Hutch's groin, and he could feel his jeans becoming tight against his growing erection.  Alarm sent the blonde to his feet.  Breathlessly he turned away.  He found himself in the kitchen, uncertain of how he got there or what he should do.

Hutch rebuked himself for his impulsive behavior.  He hadn't intended to kiss Starsky, it just happened.  Hutch hadn't even realized what he had done until after the fact.  He had felt so comfortable, so content, and exceedingly affectionate, and he had never felt a need to suppress or restrain his own affections with anybody before, especially not with Starsky.  Few people tapped into this side of him the way Starsky had.  But his affections had never carried this far.  And nothing could have readied him for Starsky's reaction.  His partner had not pulled away from the kiss but rather threw himself into it, jumping into an intimacy that he was completely unprepared for.  It electrified him.

His back was to Starsky as the man appeared in the same room.

"Hutch?"  Starsky approached cautiously, not wanting to upset his jittery friend any more than he already was.  "Hutch, are you okay?"

Turning slowly, Hutch calmly regarded the man he had just kissed.  "No," he replied quietly, a slight smile haunting his lips.

A lopsided grin brightened Starsky's worried features.  "Yeah, me either," he confessed.  "But I'm glad it happened."

"You're glad?"  Disbelief flashed in his expression.  "Starsk, do you realize that when you kissed me just now that I...I was...turned on by you?"

The grin broadened.  "Good, then it wasn't just me."

"Starsky!"  Hutch was exasperated.  And relieved.  Relieved?

Starsky stepped closer to him, very close.  Hutch could feel his fear fleeing, replaced by something else, something warmer, something compelling.  "Starsky," his voice was soft and and hoarse. "What’s happening to me?"

"What's happening to us?" Starsky gently corrected.  "I feel it too."  Unexpectedly, he threw his arm about Hutch's neck, pulling him into another kiss, this time more passionate than the last.

Breathing heavily, Starsky's face and body showed the same intense desire that he himself felt.  Hutch let his eyes scan carefully over his friend's body, drinking in every inch of him, seeing him differently than before.

Starsky was leaning back against the counter, his eyes darkened with passion.  He was studying Hutch's reactions, glad for the physical support of the cabinets behind him.

Feeling Hutch's eyes rake over him, Starsky was pleased.  The look in his friend's eyes was not one of fear, but of want, and tenderness.  Finally, Hutch's fingers touched his lips, silencing him before he had a chance to speak, much as he had done earlier.  Hutch's hands then cupped his face, his lips softly kissing him.

"I love you," the gentle blonde whispered.

"You old softie," Starsky whispered with a smile.  "I love you too."

"Starsky, I don't understand what's happening here.  I can't think..."  Hutch wanted to flee, afraid of what this was leading to, but afraid of damaging their friendship by walking out.  He waffled, pulled to Starsky by his desires, pulled to the door by his fears.

"It's okay, Hutch."  Starsky could see the confusion in his friend's expression.  "We're okay."

Hutch smiled and walked out of the kitchen.  Starsky was not surprised to see him grab his jacket as he headed for the door.  As he was almost over the threshold, Hutch turned back to Starsky.  "I need ...I need to think.  I'll be back tomorrow; we'll talk."  Starsky acknowledged him with a nod, and he was gone.

Watching his partner leave, Starsky realized that this moment was a culmination of feelings he'd been having for the past year.

Ever since the assassination attempt on his life almost a year ago, Starsky had come to realize just how he felt about his best friend. As his body came back to life, so did his mind...and his heart.  He now realized that his love had been asleep since Terry's death, lying in wait for that special someone to come along and wake it.  He thought Rosey had done so, but only realized since the shooting that it was Hutch who his heart was waiting for.  Hutch who had awakened it - when?  Didn't matter, the shooting was the catalyst - the explosion if you will - that woke his heart up to the love before him that had always been there, but never acknowledged.

It took him most of the last year to realize it though.  Each soothing stroke of a fevered forehead, each deep massage of tired muscles; each gentle touch by those large, strong hands that bathed him, comforted him, steadied him during his recovery brought the love he felt for Hutch closer to the surface.

And now...he sighed, realizing what he wanted that next step of love to be.

He loved Hutch, with all his being.  It was that simple; and at the same time that complicated.  Their jobs would not accept their relationship; gay cops were slowly being acknowledged on the force, but not as partners.  And what was accepted by police policy was not necessarily accepted by the men that were supposed to provide them back up on the dangerous streets.  Anticipating the reaction of their family members would be another issue entirely.

Dark curls bounced as Starsky shook those questions out of his mind.  They were for later; first they had to deal with their own feelings.

And how did he know that Hutch really felt the same way?  Was this some experimentation thing for his best friend?  Did Hutch respond out of compassion for him?  Was Hutch just horny?  After all, it had been awhile for both of them.

One thing Starsky knew for sure...he wanted Hutch.  The tall blonde man was his life, his desire, his love, and his best friend all rolled into one being.  He chuckled, luckily for me it's all packaged very nicely.

He'd always been aware of Hutch's attractiveness.  The golden, lean body; the muscular legs, his strong, yet comforting hands; the flashing sky blue eyes; bright cornsilk hair.  But seeing Hutch now through the eyes of love, everything seemed more enhanced.  Just the image of himself running his fingertips down that smooth skin sent shivers down Starsky's arm and into his groin.  Beauty is really in the eye of the beholder.  Wonder if that's how Hutch sees me.  He thought as he absently rubbed his left palm against the outline of the scars underneath his t-shirt, criss-crossing his torso like train tracks, while his right hand soothed the growing pressure in his groin.

Tomorrow.  Hutch said he'd come back tomorrow and they'd talk.  Then he'd know how Hutch really felt.  It was going to be a long, sleepless night.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hutch drove away from Starsky's apartment in a confused fog.  He didn't want to return to his own apartment, preferring to seek solace and understanding in the feel and sounds of nature.  His aimless drive brought him to the beach.

Hutch's own actions had surprised him.  He had kissed his best friend without even thinking, just on impulse.  What came over me?  And Starsky had not only accepted the kiss, but heightened it, taking it from his gesture of affection into something much more potent.

Kicking off his shoes, he stumbled barefoot through the coarse powder until he felt the icy cold damp sand close to the water's edge.  He breathed in the salty scent of the ocean.  The biting wind of this crisp night helped to chill his enflamed desires.

When did it become desire?  It wasn't this evening, if he were to be honest with himself.  This was not the first time Starsky's touch had stirred him sexually.  During his partner's long recovery from Gunther's shooting there were times when his constant physical presence had had its affects on him.

At the time he had dismissed it to the extreme emotions he felt over Starsky's near death, and to the imitate closeness they shared while he regained his health.  Hutch had insisted on providing most of Starsky's nursing care, trusting no one to be able to care for him as he could.  And while caring for his friend, he hadn't the time or energy to pursue the company of women.  Surely all the factors combined had been an explanation for his impassioned feelings.

He wrinkled his brow in contemplation.  But then again, those feelings hadn't ended when Starsky's convalescence ended.

The fresh ocean air revived, and he walked slowly along the water's edge.  The temperature of the water didn't seem quite so cold now that he was getting used to it.  Glancing up to the sky, the clear night glittered with an abundance of stars, encouraging him as his thoughts progressed.  He resignedly admitted to himself that there were times since Starsky had returned to work that he felt a physical attraction to the man.  He shook his head, certain that these feelings were entwined with the emotions stirred by the assassination attempt.

Seeing his friend's bullet ridden body lying on the ground had profoundly changed his feelings.  He had always cared about Starsky.  Loved him like a brother, he had professed.  But he knew, standing beside his hospital bed, those words never completely expressed what he felt in his heart.  He loved Starsky.  Not as a brother, not as a friend; the labels were inadequate.  There was no way to define when it had begun, or how deeply it touched them.  It had grown over time and experiences, encompassing every aspect of their time together; their friendship, their partnership, their struggles, and their achievements.  The closeness of death had brought the love to light, brought the intensity of it to their awareness, finally knowing what they had to lose, when it was nearly too late.

He walked away from the edge of the water and sank down to the sand.  His eyes settled on the point where the starry sky met the blue waters.  Contemplating his love for his friend, and the physical attraction that accompanied it, he finally admitted to himself what he knew all along.

I'm in love with you David Starsky.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next morning the two had off, and feeling a need for some normalcy, Hutch woke his best friend with a phone call at 10:00 a.m. and suggested a picnic and some one-on-one at Triangle Park.

He picked his partner up half an hour later, with promises to stop at Wilson's deli so each could grab a sandwich of their choosing.  A bag of organic potato chips (though Starsky didn't know they were organic), a couple of bottles of root beer, topped by two apples for Hutch, and a large piece of chocolate cake for Starsky, were included in the basket that Hutch had packed earlier for their lunch.  The cake was not something the health-conscious detective kept in the refrigerator, but he picked it up that morning after his run, thinking especially of his sweet-toothed partner.

Hutch guessed he was hoping that once sated with food and chocolate, Starsky would be more open to talk about what happened last night.

Waiting in the LTD, Hutch honked his horn to signal to his best-friend that he had arrived.  He didn't want to enter Starsky's apartment just yet, afraid that they'd greet each other with more intimacy than usual behind the privacy of Starsky's closed door, or they'd begin to discuss what happened last night, and never get to the park.  And right now he needed to find a medium to his feelings before having the inevitable discussion with Starsky.

Starsky greeted him shyly as he got into the car.  "Hey?  How're you this morning?"

"Good, Starsk.  I'm really good."  He turned away to watch the road, pulling into traffic toward the park.

Starsky leaned back into the lumpy vinyl seat and relaxed, thankful that Hutch didn't seem to have regrets or be fretting about their declaration.

The drive over to Triangle Park was comfortable and the banter was easy.  A feeling of normalcy permeated the air between the two.  After relaxing and people watching for a bit once they nourished themselves, Starsky got up, took his blue t-shirt off and stretched his arms high above his head.

"Come on Blintz, let's work off some of those calories we just tacked on."

The sight of that dusky, muscular chest stretching and pulling had Hutch out of breath before they had even walked onto the basketball court.  He kept his own t-shirt on for self-preservation, like armor.

At first, playing close together was slightly awkward, but once Starsky made the first basket and began his usual bragging, Hutch began to feel more comfortable and competitive.  Soon they were working together, yet against each other, as usual.  Hands touching, back and butt pats, hips connecting...

Starsky couldn't help but notice how the sun shown down on Hutch's tan, making him appear golden.

The little dribbles of sweat running through Starsky's chest hair tightened Hutch's groin, making him thankful that he wore loose-fitting sweatpants. 

After an hour of basketball, sweating, and friendly competition, the two took a breather and sat down on the side of the court.

Silence reigned for several minutes, before Starsky spoke.  "Hutch?"

"Yeah Starsk?"

"I don't feel like playing anymore basketball.  You?"

Hutch looked deeply into the brightened dark blue eyes.  Reflected there was desire, love, and questions.  He knew what Starsky wanted.  He wanted the promised talk.

"Okay Starsk, let's just gather our things and head back to your place."

"Hey, why don't we stop and get a 12 pack first?"

"I don't really think I should be drinking and driving Starsk, and I have to drive home."

"So you only have two, or...," he hesitated before continuing, "you could always spend the night."

There was no response from the seat next to him as Hutch continued to look forward, driving through traffic.

He put his hand over the back of the seat and reached over to massage the long neck under his fingers.  "Hutch?  Are you gonna say something?"  Starsky was worried about his partner's quietness during the ride home.

"No, Starsk.  Just thinking.  I'd rather wait and do this at your place, okay?"

"Sure."  He removed his hand and let it drop down onto Hutch's right shoulder, just letting it lie there.

The rest of the drive back to Starsky's passed in silence, both men thinking how they would approach what they were feeling to the other.

Once home, Starsky dropped his jacked and holster on his bed, tossed his keys on the kitchen table, opened a couple of beers, and put the rest in the fridge.

Hutch was still standing by the couch wrapped in his jacket, unsure where he'd feel most comfortable, when Starsky sat down on it and patted the cushion next to him.

"Sit down and have a beer, will ya Hutch?  I ain't gonna bite, you know."

That seemed to break the tension, and Hutch sat down, but didn't remove his jacket.  Using it as armor the same way he used his t-shirt earlier.

"You said 'tomorrow' we'd talk Hutch.  We'll it's tomorrow and I wanna talk about this.  We need to talk about it."

"You're right.  I just...I didn't know how to broach the subject."

"Just tell me what you're feeling."

Hutch took a deep breath and looked into the wide blue eyes before him.  How come I never noticed how beautiful they are before?

"I – I love you Starsky.  I'm in love with you.  I guess I have been for awhile."

"How come you never told me?"

"I just realized it last night."

"When you kissed me?"

"No.  After that; after I left."

"Then why'd you kiss me?"

He shrugged his shoulders.  "I dunno.  A way of saying 'thank you' I guess."  He lowered his voice and turned away, "Seemed like a good idea at the time."

"You mean it doesn't now?"  Starsky's voice dropped to a whisper, a plea.

Hutch snapped his head back up, and saw hurt in those same eyes he'd just seen love in.  "No, that's not what I meant."  He never meant to hurt his partner.

Both men drank more of their beer, wondering how to get the subject back on track.

"Starsky?  Why'd you kiss me back?"

"Because I'm in love with you too, dummy."

Heart soaring, a wide smile appeared on Hutch's face, he repeated Starsky's earlier question, "How come you never told me?"

Starsky took another gulp of beer before answering.  Tell him the truth David.  "I've known I was in love with you for a while Hutch.  But I guess I was worried how you'd see me if I told you.  How I'd see myself if I admitted it out loud."

"And how do you feel about it?"

Lowering his head Starsky confessed how since his shooting, he'd slowly come to realize how his love for Hutch had changed and how his heart had expanded with that love.  "You opened my heart back up to love again Hutch," he finished.

Startled at his friend's declaration and depth of feelings, Hutch put his fingers under Starsky's chin to raise the man's face.  Clear blue eyes gazed deeply into midnight ones.  Slowly Hutch lowered his head to meet the slightly open and luscious lips that were made for kissing.

Backing away Hutch said, "I was wrong, you know."

Confusion swept over the darker face.

"You are a good kisser," Hutch explained.

Confusion changed to remembrance – accompanied by a grin – then to desire, as Starsky ran his left hand down Hutch's hair and grabbed his neck, pulling the blonde to him for another, deeper kiss.

For several minutes they continued to explore each other's mouths.  Tongues twisting and soothing the hollow chamber of each other's mouths.  Eventually their lips became swollen and each pulled away at the same time.

All of a sudden the room seemed on fire to Hutch.  He had to slow this down.  "Starsky?"  He asked as he lightly tickled the swollen lips beside him with his fingertips.  "Where do you see this going?"

"Wherever you want babe."

"I mean tonight, for starters."

"Wherever you want."  His curly haired imp replied again, eyes reflecting the honesty of that statement along with desire, and a little fear.

"Let's start by taking this jacket off, huh?"  Starsky grinned, making Hutch relax.

Hutch stood up, removed the jacket and holster and set them on the kitchen chair.  He grabbed another beer from the fridge for the both of them, one slipping from his nervous fingers onto the linoleum floor.  Picking it up, he carried the cans to the living room.

Downing the last of the beer in his hand, Starsky took the offered can and popped the tab as Hutch sat down next to him.

Forgetting he had jostled his own can, Hutch popped the tab and was immediately sprayed with sticky suds.

Starsky giggled, which turned into laughter as looked up to the glare his partner was throwing at him.

"Might as well take the shirt off Hutch.  I can wash it with mine.  I'm sure I've got another of yours around here somewhere."

Hutch pushed himself off the couch, removing the damp shirt, and went into the bathroom where he knew Starsky kept his laundry basket.  He stayed in there to run a washcloth over his chest, noting how sensitive his nipples were as the cool cloth brushed against them.

"Hutch?"  He heard his name called from the other room.  "You comin' back out?"

Tossing the cloth into the sink, Hutch glanced at his reflection in the mirror.  His face and neck were blushed with want; his eyes bright, their pupils large and dark; his lips were moist and swollen; his golden hair tousled.  He was the picture of someone who had been thoroughly kissed.

Suddenly Starsky was at the doorway, hands braced against the frame.  He walked over to his partner and put his arms around the firm waist and pulled himself closer to the inviting warmth, resting his cheek against Hutch's smooth back.  "It was getting kinda lonely out there without you."

Hutch felt a gentle kiss placed on his upper shoulder.  He turned in the embrace and quickly placed a kiss on Starsky's forehead.  "Just washing up a bit."

Starsky's voice was husky as he beheld the smooth chest in front of him.  "I can do that."  And he began licking and sucking on the golden skin around the sternum, drawing a gasp from his partner.

Hutch placed his hands on Starsky's waist sliding them upwards under the t-shirt, feeling muscles tremble beneath his fingertips as he soothed Starsky's back.

He drew them back down to grasp a handful of jeans and pull his partner closer.  Starsky's head came up and Hutch grabbed his lips with his own, roughly pushing in his tongue as a growl erupted from deep inside.  He lifted his lips with trailing kisses to Starsky's ear.  "Did I ever tell you how hot your ass is?"  He said with a grin, as he planted a light kiss along the rim.

A chuckle burst out from Starsky as he appealed, "Spend the night with me.  I want to wake up beside you tomorrow."

Hutch gathered him closer, if that was possible, and wrapped his long arms around the shorter man.  "Okay," he whispered.

Holding them in place for a few minutes, then pushing Starsky away to look directly at him, Hutch asked, "But Starsk?  I, uh, I don't want to..." He blushed now of embarrassment.  "I mean, I want to take this slow.  Get used to the idea, okay?"

Starsky reached up and held Hutch's cheek in his palm.  "Sure babe.  Me too."  Starsky himself wouldn't have minded going a little further in exploring their new love.  His passionate nature cried out for it, but he didn't want to rush Hutch and scare him off.  If that's what Hutch wants, I don't care.  As long as he's here.

Agreeing to cool things down a bit, Starsky stepped back from Hutch's embrace and walked into his bedroom to grab a shirt for him.

Meanwhile, Hutch went into the kitchen to scrounge something up for dinner.  "Hey Gordo?  You got something edible in your freezer?  And see if you can find a pair of my pants so we don't have to stop at my place on the way to work tomorrow."

Sorting through the crusty freezer, Hutch came up with some frozen fried chicken and fries.  As he leaned down to put the pan of chicken into the oven, Starsky came into the kitchen with a fresh shirt to cover that golden chest.  Oh my Lord, this is gonna be a long night, he said to himself when he got a glimpse of the sweatpants molding tightly against the broad backside of his love.

Gulping back his desire, Starsky rubbed his hand over his face to gain control and gathered plates, napkins, and condiments for dinner.

"Want another beer?"  He asked Hutch, setting one out at the table for himself.

"Keep mine in the fridge for now.  I want it cold with dinner."

After dinner the two decided to play a few games of checkers in the living room.  Hutch sat on the floor next to the coffee table, while Starsky stayed on the couch.  After a few more beers, both were feeling nicely relaxed.  For once Hutch was winning, so Starsky decided to do something about that.

"Hey Hutch?" He asked without looking up from the board.

"Hmm?"

"What do whales eat for dinner?"

"Huh?  Is this another of your stupid ways of trying to distract me?"

"It's a joke Hutch.  Come on, answer it."

Hutch thought for a moment, then sighed, "I don't know Starsk.  What do whales eat for dinner?"

"Fish and chips!"  Starsky grinned broadly at his partner's groan and then jumped three of his partner's men.  "King me!"

"I'll king you!"  And Hutch began throwing checkers up at his partner, pinging him in the face and chest, with one landing in the dark curls.

Starsky launched off the couch and onto his partner on the floor to wrestle him into submission.  But the moment their fingers touched, a spark was ignited.  Starsky straddled Hutch and shoved his hands beneath the rayon shirt and began stroking Hutch's chest.

The prone man just stared into the face above him, right arm bent at the elbow, hand falling limply toward the floor.  He couldn't think, all he could do was feel.

"You're so beautiful Hutch," Starsky whispered in awe.  "I want to love you so much, but I can wait.  I can't wait to sleep with you though.  Can we do that?  Can we go to bed now and just hold each other?"  He didn't look down into the dazed face of his best friend, but lost himself to the sensations under his fingers, hands, and palms.

Without waiting for an answer, Starsky lifted himself off his partner and went into the bathroom to clean up and change.  By the time both were ready for bed, neither had shirts on, but Hutch kept his sweatpants on and Starsky wore a pair thin pajama pants.

Starsky already had his favorite side of the bed, so Hutch climbed in on the other side and the two lay side by side, facing each other waiting for sleep to carry them away.  Starsky laid a soft kiss on Hutch's forehead, as his partner seemed skittish.  Wanting to respond, Hutch returned the favor to Starsky's cheek, kissing the mole by his mouth.

No words were spoken in the quiet darkness as they faded off to slumber.  Shadows shifted along the wall like guardians, watching over the two new lovers as they slept.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Hi Huggy", Starsky called to his friend. 

Huggy was washing glasses behind the bar.  He looked up to see the smiling, curly haired man walk in alone, and looked to the door expecting to see the blonde following behind.

"Just me today, Hug."

"Kinda like a sky without a moon, to see you walk in here alone," Huggy joked.

Starsky slid onto a stool.  "Got some time you can spare for an old buddy, my friend?

Huggy cocked his head slightly, aware that something must be amiss for Starsky to come in alone looking for someone to talk to.  "Yeah sure, Starsky.  Let me get Todd out here to cover for me and you can have me for as long as you need me." 

Starsky nodded and his friend disappeared into the backroom.  He spotted a booth in the back that afforded more privacy than the others, and headed for it.  It wasn't a long wait before Huggy emerged with a pitcher of beer and two glasses and sat across the booth from him.

Pouring the beer and serving his friend, Huggy remained silent, waiting for the other to explain the purpose of his visit. 

Starsky looked away, acting almost embarrassed, before confessing, "I don't know where to start, Hug."

"Usually helps to start at the beginning, amigo."

With a small grin the man replied, "I don't know where the beginning is."  Taking a swallow of his beer, he studied his friend a moment and dived in.  "Somethin' has happened between Hutch and me."

"Is that somethin' good, or somethin' bad?"

"Somethin' good," Starsky answered.  In his thoughts he could see Hutch pull him close for that first kiss, and he smiled to himself at the memory.  "Yeah, somethin' real good.  But I'm kinda surprised by it, and I'm not sure yet how to deal with it."

"You ever gonna quit talkin' around it and tell me what IT is?"  Starsky looked embarrassed again, and Huggy chuckled.  "How long you two been makin' like husband and wife?  Or should I say like husband and husband?"  Starsky's eyes widened at the question.  "Look Starsky, you been grinnin' like a man in love since you walked in here.  It don't take Carnac the Magnificent to figure this one out."

Starsky let out a deep breath.  He was relived that Huggy seemed neither surprised nor judgmental about his revelation.  Of course, he didn't really expect him to be.  "Last week Hutch kissed me, Huggy.  It changed somethin' between us.  It started somethin'.  We've been kinda getting' used to the idea since then.  We're takin' things slow."

Huggy smiled, a huge genuine smile.  He reached over and clasped Starsky on the shoulder with a friendly squeeze.  "I'm happy for you, Starsky.  For both of you."

"This doesn't bother you, Hug?"  He wanted to know if Huggy had any reservations, wanted to be aware of them upfront.

Huggy gave a snort.  "Bother me?  Why should it bother me?  Besides, you two have been like a couple of love birds for years now.  I'm just surprised it took you so long to figure it out."

Laughing, Starsky sat back and shook his head.  "Yeah, can't see the forest through the trees.  I think I had a hard time believing I could feel this way about another guy.  Ya know, it wasn't socially acceptable where I grew up."

"It's not socially acceptable where I grew up either, my friend."  He shook his head sadly.  "It won't be easy for you two.  Maybe even dangerous.  Your fellow boys in blue aren't too accepting of gays.  You or Hutch might find yourself depending on back up that never shows up."

"I know Hug.  I've thought about that.  I know we'll have to be secretive about our relationship."  He frowned, the frustration evident in his face.  "I hate that I have to hide how I feel about him!  It's not in my nature."

"But it IS in your nature to protect your partner."  He gave Starsky a knowing look.

"True, Hug, very true."  The smile returned.  "Leave it to you to shine the right light on it."

"Have you told your families?" Huggy inquired.

"Not yet," Starsky admitted.  "That'll be tough.  I think my mom will take it bad at first, but she'll probably come around.  I'm not so sure about Hutch's folks.  They were pretty strict.  I think he's worried about how they'll react."

"How about you, Starsky?  How are you handlin' this?  You said you weren't sure how to deal with it."

Starsky paused before answering.  "I'm not sure, Hug.  Most of the time I handle it just fine.  I've been feelin' this way for a long time now, and I'm glad it's out in the open and I'm glad that Hutch loves me too.  When it's just me and him, everything is great.  It's all the outside stuff I'm not so sure about."

"You mean your families?"

"My family, his family, work, hell just people."  He sighed.  "Seems like everybody's got a label for us, and most of 'em ain't nice.  Everyone has these expectations of us!  And the way we love each other, well, that doesn't fit in.  We could lose our jobs if word gets out at the station.  We could fight that, but they'd never let us stay partners.  And Hutch's family, they might turn their backs on him.  He don't deserve that, Hug.  I don't want him hurt like that."

"You havin' regrets, my man?"

"No!"  Starsky shook his head vehemently.  "No regrets.  I'm just feelin' unprepared, that's all.  I don't know how to deal with this stuff.  All the rules have changed on me."  Then he laughed.  "Even sex.  I used to feel pretty confident that I knew what I was doin' there, that I knew how to please my partner.  Now I've got me a real partner, the only partner that matters, and I have no idea what I'm doin'!"

Huggy laughed too.  "You'll find your way, Starsky.  You just need some time.  You and Blondie have love, and not a lot of people have that.  That'll get you through the bad stuff.  And you got friends.  You don't have to hide nothin' here.  I won't let nobody give you cause for grief."  He stood and held up a finger.  "Hang here just a sec.  I got somethin' that will help you."  He disappeared into the back room again. 

A short time later Huggy rejoined his friend.  There was a piece of paper in his hand, and he slid it across the table to Starsky.  It was an advertisement for a gay book store, taken from the yellow pages.  "This place is near my pad.  A friend of mine works there.  I know the neighborhood is decent, the place ain't sleazy, and no one will give you any hassles going in there.  They have books and stuff that will help you feel like you know what you're doin' again."  He winked at the curly haired man.

Tucking the paper into his shirt pocket, Starsky grinned at Huggy.  "Thanks."  He stood to take his leave, offering his hand to his lanky friend. 

Huggy clasped his hand firmly, then pulled him into an embrace.  He clapped him on the back a couple times, then released him with a smile.  "You tell that white knight of yours the next time you two come in here together, drinks are on me.  We'll celebrate."

"I'll do that, Hug.  Thanks, my friend."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Several days later...

Starsky was sitting at his desk, struggling through one of his reports for Dobey.  Frustrated, he grabbed the correction film and tried to type over his misspelling.  "Stupid machine," he grumbled under his breath as he tossed the well used office supply in the trash.  He rose and grabbed his coffee mug.  "Ya want some?" he asked his partner.

In reply, Hutch just raised his mug without looking.  Starsky grabbed it and headed for the coffee pot, only to find it empty.  Disgusted, he announced, "I'm goin' to the cafeteria for some coffee," and headed for the door.

"Starsky!"  Dobey bellowed from his office doorway.  The detective cringed, obviously anticipating something bad from the tone of his boss's voice.  "Stick around, son.  I have an announcement to make."

Slinking back to his desk, Starsky nudged Hutch and the two of them looked to their boss for the news.

Dobey was quick.  "Okay people, listen up.  Because of their dedication and hard work on the Harvey murders, Detectives Starsky and Hutchinson are receiving commendations.  The ceremony will be Friday at 4:00pm.  Your presence is expected."  He looked affectionately at his favorite team.  "Congratulations, boys.  Nice job."

"Ya hear that Partner?" Starsky grinned at Hutch.  "We're getting a commendation!"  He reached over and clasped Hutch's hand and gave it an affectionate squeeze.  He stood up to attempt his trip to the cafeteria again.

Hutch stood up as well, and swatted his partner on the rear before he turned away.

"What are you getting that accommodation for, Starsky?" sneered Logan.  "Is there some sort of affirmative action law that says they have to give pansies just as many awards as real men?"

A chill ran up Hutch's spine.  He pretended not to hear the man, and continued to look for a folder in the file cabinet.

Starsky stopped in his tracks and slowly turned to face Logan.  "What's that Logan?  Didn't hear ya.  Did you say somethin' about our commendation?  You aren't jealous now are ya Logan?"

"Hell no, I ain't jealous of a coupla queers that can't keep from hangin' on each other and smackin' each other's asses," the man countered, standing up in a threatening stance.

"Shut up, Logan," Fredericks called.  "That's just the way Starsky and Hutch are.  They've always been that way.  Don't mean nothin'.  You've just got a stick up your butt because that Harvey case was taken away from you and Pritchert."

"I don't!" Logan denied.  "I just don't like watchin' a coupla fairies getting all touchy feely in front o' me.  Makes me wanna hurl."

Starsky's eyebrows raised, and his expression turned to a false innocence.  "Oh yeah, Logan?  Then you oughtta love this."  He threw his arm around Hutch's neck and pulled him into a full kiss on the mouth. 

The other detectives in the room howled in laughter.

Starsky turned back to Logan without pulling his arm from around Hutch's neck and gave his biggest smile.

In disbelief, Hutch raised the back of his hand to his mouth wiped it, shouting "Starsky!" 

The squadroom hooted some more, hilarious over Logan's shock and Hutch's outrage.

Logan turned red with anger and stormed off, much to Starsky's delight.  Starsky threw a wink at his partner and sauntered out of the room, barely missing the file folder Hutch hurled at him.

Hutch sank into his desk and pretended to be absorbed in a file.  The kiss Starsky had planted on his lips still burned, as did the blush in his cheeks.  In short time, the laughter had died down and the squadroom had returned to business as usual.  Hutch, however, could not easily recover from his surprise.

He was furious with his partner.  Starsky should have just ignored the jabs, and walked away the bigger man.  In addition, to flaunt their private life was a complete disregard of Hutch's own need for privacy.  Not only that, but it was extremely dangerous!  And he was embarrassed as hell at being made the butt of the joke.

Starsky was pleased with himself.  He had silenced Logan, and won the congratulatory pats of the other detectives for his imaginative response, as well as being able to kiss his lover in front of everyone.   Hutch had also received humored pats, as well as the sympathy of the other officers for having to put up with such a goofball partner.

Starsky had indeed avoided disaster with his little bit of fun, but it was out of line, and far too risky. 

The end of the shift finally came.  Hutch stood to pull on his jacket and his partner sauntered over.  "Hey, Hutch, wanna grab a beer?" Starsky cheerfully invited.

To the delight of the other detectives, Hutch replied, "You think you can ply me with a few beers and have your way with me?  I don't think so Starsk.  I'm not that kind of guy."  He turned on his heel and left the squadroom as their coworkers again burst into applause and laughter. 

Starsky's cheeks flamed red this time, as he joined in laughing at his partner's wit.  But Starsky had seen the glint in Hutch's eye, and he was well aware that there was anger brewing behind those baby blues.

Hutch went straight home from work, still fuming over Starsky's prank.  He couldn't believe he would kiss him in front of their fellow officers.  What was he thinking?  Didn't he realize that it could have backfired, and cost them their jobs, as well as their reputations?

Logan's slurs still haunted him.  Pansies.  Queers.  Fairies.  Makes me wanna hurl.  All their years of hard work – would it be reduced to this?  His hard earned title completely forgotten and replaced with a label, an insult.  All because of who they chose to love?   And his job is at risk, his life at risk, because he chose to give his heart to another man?

The kiss had wounded him.  He felt used.  Their first kiss had come about after many years of trust and love.  To have his kiss now used for a joke really hurt his feelings.  It was thrown out to wolves and made the subject of ridicule.  Why couldn't this had been kept private, something beautiful just between them?

There was a soft knock at the door, and Hutch knew who it was.  He dropped his head, debating whether to open the door, then surrendered, realizing that Starsky would just use his key.  Taking a deep breath, he walked to the door and yanked it open.

Starsky stood in the doorway, leaning against the wall.  His head had been bowed, but he raised it to gaze at his partner with huge puppy dog eyes.  The clothes he had been wearing at work were replaced by all black.  Black skin-tight jeans.  Black snug t-shirt.  Black leather hip-length jacket.  All that black only served to make his deep blue eyes even more vibrant than usual, and his lashes seemed longer in contrast.  Cupped in his hands was a small plant, with a big red bow tied around it. 

Hutch swallowed hard, his anger completely forgotten.  He had never seen Starsky look so incredibly sexy as he did at this moment.

Starsky's voice was soft, yet tinged with lust.  "Hey, handsome.  I'm here to apologize.  Will you let me in?"  His eyes were intense, certain that he would not be refused.

Momentarily speechless, Hutch stepped back and allowed his friend to walk in.  An intoxicating cologne teased his nose.  Following behind Starsky, his eyes fell to the hem of his coat and the well defined thighs below that.  His partner didn't saunter in, full of cockiness.  He glided in like a cat, sure and graceful, and every muscle was emphasized by those clothes.  When Starsky stopped and turned to confront him, Hutch considered himself fortunate that he didn't stumble right into him.  He was so busy watching his partner that he wasn't watching where he was going. 

Starsky held out the plant to him.  His voice was still low and sensual.  "I know you're angry at me.  I was going to bring you roses, but I thought it would be better to bring you the entire bush.  That way, it would keep giving you flowers, and always remind you how much I love you." 

Hutch took the plant; a miniature rose bush, and smiled at the sentiment.  "Nobody has ever given me roses before," he mused.  "A little cliché, isn't it?  Bringing your date roses?  What, no chocolates?  No poetry?"

Starsky's eyes flashed with mischief.  His was voice confidently warm and seductive as he spoke.  "And think not you can direct the course of love, if it finds you worthy, directs your course." 

Hutch smiled.  "Gibran.  Nice choice." 

Stepping in front of Hutch, a breath away, Starsky whispered, "Am I forgiven?"

Charmed by his antics, Hutch kissed his happy partner.  "You are forgiven.  But I am still upset by what you did.  You scared the hell out of me with that move.  It could have blown up in our faces."

"It didn't," he gently reminded him.

"It was dangerous."

"We're fine."  He was unbuttoning Hutch's shirt.

"You didn't respect my privacy."

"I won't do it again."  His hands were caressing Hutch's bare chest.

"You used my kiss as part of a joke.  It was supposed to be something beautiful between us, and you mocked it."

Starsky froze.  He stared into Hutch's hurt eyes.  "I didn't mock your kiss!" he insisted.  "I mocked the fools that don't understand it.  I mocked anybody who'd see it as something ugly."  He shook his head.  "Hutch, don't you know?  Your kisses, your love, your touch...  They're everything beautiful to me.  You are beautiful to me.  I love you.  I don't care who sees that.  I don't care who knows it.  I only care about you."

Hutch grabbed Starsky's hips and pulled him against him.  He deeply inhaled of Starsky's cologne and leather scent.  Burying his fingers into the lush curly hair, he crushed his lips down on the hungry mouth, then trailed down his throat.  "You don't need to memorize poems to impress me," his voice gentled with love.  "I'd rather hear Starsky than Gibran any day." 

"Good 'cause I'm not sure how much longer I can keep spouting that stuff in order to seduce you."

Hutch took a slight step back from his partner, but not before Starsky could feel the tenseness in his arms.

He turned his back to Starsky, shirt still opened wide and hanging loosely off his frame.  "Is that the only reason you came over here?"

"Hutch?"  Starsky was confused What'd I do?

"You just want to get me into bed?"  All of Hutch's insecurities were flying to the forefront of his own mind.

"No, I want to get to the good part of making up.  I want to love you Hutch.  I think we're ready to take on more."

The blonde plopped down on the couch.  "Well maybe you are, but I'm not sure I am."

"Hutch, it's been almost two weeks since our first kiss.  Hell, I've never gone more than two weeks without good sex, except this last year."

"Starsky, making love doesn't always end in orgasm.  It's not the be all to end all."

"Maybe not – but it sure as hell feels good."  He knelt down in front of Hutch, putting his hand on a knee.  "Especially when I've got a lover as hot as you are."

Hutch didn't say anything or make any moves, just dipped his head so the longish blonde hair fell forward over his face.

"Unless..." Starsky's voice caught in his throat, "unless I don't have you.  Hutch?  You havin' second thoughts?"

Hutch pulled his partner up onto the couch beside him and into his arms.  "Never.  I thought we agreed to take it slow.  I'm just still getting used to all of this."

"We've been 'getting used to' all of this for some time now."

"No.  You have.  This is all still so new to me Starsk.  You already accepted how you felt about me before all this physical stuff started between us.  I didn't even understand it until that night.  I need to catch up, be on the same wavelength."

"So you don't wanna have any kind of sex until you're – what – all caught up?"  Starsky was getting frustrated.  During the past two weeks they hadn't gone much further than some heavy petting.  Occasionally rubbing together their lower bodies, but always with some sort of cloth barrier.  And by unspoken agreement they always slept in pajama bottoms.

"I didn't say that.  I love holding you at night; touching you, learning all about you."

"I would've thought you already knew all about me after takin' care of me."

"It's not the same."  Hutch hesitated.  "Put yourself in my shoes.  You hurt me with that little joke, bring me flowers and spout poetry to say you're sorry, then expect me to jump into bed.  The meaning of the gesture gets diminished."

"Awe, Hutch," Starsky tenderly stroked the side of his face.  "You know I don't mean it like that.  I just want to take our loving to another level – step it up a notch."

Starsky grabbed Hutch's right hand and held it against his groin.  "Feel that?"  He moved the large hand up and down in a caressing fashion.  "That's what you do to me.  I've had this hard on ever since this afternoon.  And that's just from a kiss, Hutch."

Hutch felt his own groin respond in a similar manner, like a mating call.

"I said I would give you time, and I will."  Starsky's voice was even, but his expression was needy and his eyes dark with lust.

Hutch couldn't resist those eyes, that look.  "Starsky, I'm scared." 

"You don't think I am?"

Hutch snorted.  "It doesn't appear that way to me."

"That's 'cause I've been doing some reading."

The blonde head lifted sharply.  "You've been doing what?!  Reading?  About...about," Hutch spluttered.

Dark curls bobbed as Starsky nodded in confirmation.  "Us making love.  Wanna make sure I get everything right."

"That doesn't sound like my Starsky.  Usually you just jump in without looking."

Starsky grinned widely at the term 'my Starsky'.  "I ain't never done anything like this before and you mean too much to me.  I wanna please you just right."

Hutch's face melted, "And where did you get this reading material?"

"From a friend of Huggy's who owns a gay bookstore."

"You told Huggy!?"  Starsky reared back at the sound of the disbelief in Hutch's voice.

"Yeah?  So?"  Starsky was confused at Hutch's reaction.  "He's one of our best friends.  He ain't gonna judge us Hutch, if that's what you're worried about.  And I needed someone to talk to, to tell about our love."

A large hand rubbed down a pale face.  Hutch couldn't believe Starsky had outted them to their friend.

"What's the big deal Hutch?"

"The big deal is I wanted to keep this between us for now."

"I think he kinda suspected anyway, Babe."

Both hands now held the blonde head, as he groaned into them.

Starsky began stroking Hutch's bare chest again as the blonde laid his head back against the couch, his eyes closed in dismay.  When Starsky's delicate fingers slipped slightly beneath the buckled area of his cords, Hutch's mind snapped back to their current situation.

He roughly shoved the teasing hands away.  He couldn't think properly when those hands were playing his body like a stringed instrument.  "Starsky – stop!"

Starsky jumped to his feet angry, hurt, and frustrated that his intentions were being denied.  "Dammit Hutch!  What's the problem now?!"

"I can't think when you're all over me like that."

"Then don't think.  Just go with the flow."

"I have to in order to keep my wits about me."

"Do you have to analyze everything?  Even sex?"

"I have to remain in control of myself or this'll lead to something I'm not ready for."

Starsky began pacing, stomping his frustration out with each heavy step.

"Starsk?"

He turned abruptly at his name to look at the figure on the couch.

"I think you should go."

What!?  Dark eyebrows lifted as his eyes widened in shock.  They hadn't spent every night of the past two weeks together, but never had one purposely sent the other home.  I can't believe he's doing this.

"Hutch?"  His eyes asking for confirmation.

"Go on Starsk.  Just for tonight.  You can pick me up in the morning like usual."

He stared for several more seconds at his partner, then blinked long lashes quickly and stormed out the door, not saying another word. 

Dammit Hutch, why can't you stop thinking so much and start following what you feel.  But that was his partner, part of the reason he loved him.  Hutch kept him grounded; kept him from flying too far and too fast – at work, in play, in past relationships...

Starsky's face broke out into a grin as he sat in the Torino.  It's time to bring out the big guns.  Gotta get his mind so off kilter that he doesn't have time to think.  Starsky's mind began imagining how he would lay his plans to seduce his partner.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

The following morning, Starsky picked up Hutch for work as usual.  He was unusually quiet, and Hutch feared he had hurt his friend when he had asked him to leave the night before.  Knowing he should soothe the tension, he reached out and touched his partner on the leg.  "Starsk, about last night..."

"It's okay, Hutch," Starsky quickly interrupted.  "I'm not mad."

"Why don't you pull over up here at the gas station and we'll talk for a minute."

Starsky shook his head.  "Really, Hutch, I'm fine."  He flashed the blonde a small smile.  "I gave it a lot of thought last night after I left, and I realized you were right.  I'm rushing you, and I'm not gonna do it anymore."

"I'm sorry, Starsk," Hutch said quietly.  "I didn't mean to upset you by asking you to leave.  I just..."

"It's okay," he insisted, this time with a little more emphasis.  "I understand.  You need some time to get used to things.  I can wait."  The smile was brighter this time, and Hutch accepted that it was genuine.  "I'm not gonna push you anymore.  We'll try it your way.  You don't have to worry 'bout me forcin' the issue."  Starsky playfully smacked at Hutch's thigh.  "I'll wait for ya."

Hutch didn't expect Starsky to withdraw so easily.  He let out the deep breath he was holding in relief, but cringed when he realized that Starsky must have heard it. 

His partner just chuckled.  "You're relieved.  Good."

Hutch settled back in the seat, feeling a lot more comfortable than he did when he got into the car.

As the day progressed, Hutch was aware that Starsky's quiet mood was not going to ease.  He didn't seem particularly upset, just rather distracted.  When it came time to head home, Starsky dropped Hutch off in front of his apartment, not even hinting for an invite.

"Do you want to come in for a pizza or something?" Hutch offered before getting out.

Starsky shook his head.  "No thanks, Buddy.  I gotta get some laundry done tonight and pay some bills.  Maybe tomorrow."

Tomorrow didn't alter Starsky's mood, or make him any more available.  He was still quiet and distracted, and went straight home after work.  Hutch was concerned.  He hadn't meant to push him so far away, and vowed to make it up to him that weekend.

But the weekend didn't bring any of his partner's companionship.  Starsky didn't call, and was not answering his telephone.  Rather worried now, Hutch drove over to confront his partner.  When he arrived, Hutch took note that Starsky's car was not in the parking lot.  He let himself into the apartment, only to find it quiet and empty.  Nothing seemed amiss.  There was nothing at all to indicate to Hutch that he had anything to worry about.  Yet the absence of his partner concerned him deeply...

Anxious to see Starsky and be able to talk to him, Hutch left for work a little early on Monday.  Upon reaching his car, he was troubled to find a note from Starsky tucked under one of the wiper blades. 

Dear Hutch,

I won't be in today.  I called in sick.

I'm okay - just need to run some errands.

Love,

S

Distressed, Hutch tucked the note into his shirt pocket.  What the hell was going on?

The day passed slowly for the blonde detective.  He called several times to Starsky's apartment, never getting an answer.  Finally slamming the phone down in frustration, he vowed to find his partner as soon as he was off work and straighten this mess out.

He stopped by Starsky's apartment again, with no success.  The Torino was gone, the apartment was empty.  He didn't even see anything to give him a clue as to his friend's whereabouts.  Disheartened, he headed for home, intending to call Huggy and ask if he had heard from Starsky.

Stepping into his apartment, he was immediately presented with delicious aromas.  Few lights were on, and the room was bathed in candlelight.  The fragrance of the candles mingled with the scent of vanilla, and a teasing blend of foods cooking spiced the air.  Hutch glanced around for his curly-haired friend, noticing that the apartment had been thoroughly cleaned as well.  "Starsky?" he called out.

Starsky emerged from the bathroom, greeting him with a huge smile.  "You're home!" he exclaimed.

Overcome with relief, Hutch wrapped Starsky in an embrace and kissed him deeply. 

"I missed ya!" Starsky grinned happily.

"Starsk, where've you been?" Hutch demanded, then gentled his tone.  "I've been worried sick about you."

"Sorry," he replied absently.  "I had a bunch of stuff to do.  Didn't mean to worry ya."  Then he held up a finger.  "Just a sec.  Gotta check on dinner."  With that, he scooted off to the kitchen. 

Completely baffled, but at ease for the first time in days, Hutch surveyed the room.  Starsky had obviously been hard at work cleaning today, and had cooked dinner to boot.  It smelled heavenly.  Anxious to hear an explanation for his partner's absence of late, he turned around to face the kitchen. 

Starsky stood there, watching him, a kitchen towel draped carelessly over his shoulder.

Hutch finally let it soak in just how enticing the man looked.  The clothes were casual, but complimented his physique.  A deep blue Indian shirt with long sleeves lay open halfway to his navel, exposing the luxuriantly furred chest, and brightening his midnight blue eyes.  Embroidery of the same shade as the cotton decorated the hem of the sleeves and around the opened neckline, and his snug jeans caressed his narrow hips.  In the sparkling eyes was a tender and loving expression, drawing the very breath from his partner.  Damn, he looked good.

Starsky jerked a thumb over his shoulder and said, "Dinner won't be ready for a little bit.  You can grab a shower if ya want.  I'll call ya when it's time to eat."

"Starsky, I..."

"Aw, go on, Hutch!" he shooed with the towel.  "Go relax in a nice hot shower.  I ain't goin' nowhere."

Hutch couldn't resist the disarming smile, and obeyed.  The hot spray of the shower rinsed away the grime of the city and eased his tense and aching muscles.  He was glad he had listened, for the shower revived him and lifted his mood.  The stress of his conflicts with Starsky, coupled with his mysterious absence, had taken a toll on him, and it felt good to shed all that and come out refreshed.

Stepping out of the bathroom clad in soft sweatpants and a loose fitting t-shirt, Hutch stopped short at the sight of his partner bent over to pick up a dead leaf from the floor.  The shapely backside was hard to ignore, but Hutch forced his eyes upward quickly when Starsky rose to his full height and turned around. 

"Feel better?" Starsky asked.

"Yeah, yeah I do," Hutch grinned.  His friend had turned on the stereo, and a soft instrumental jazz melody added to the ambiance of the room.  He was pleasantly surprised that Starsky would play an album that was not his usual preference, but one that Hutch was particularly fond of.  He nodded to the stereo, commenting, "Nice choice."

Starsky grinned.  "It is, isn't it?  Come on, dinner is ready.  I was just about to fetch you."

The food smelled heavenly, and tasted even better.  Starsky had prepared shark steaks bathed in lemon, a garden salad, French bread spread with garlic butter and parmesan, and fresh green beans generously sprinkled with slivered almonds.  A bottle of chardonnay that Hutch recognized from their last visit to the Bargetto Winery complemented the food well. 

After a week's worth of take out and fast food, the meal was especially enchanting.  They spoke little as they ate, except the praise that Hutch showered on the chef for his hard work.  Hutch tried to avoid staring at Starsky, and was only mildly successful. 

Finally, he had to know.  "Starsky, where have you been for the last few days?  I was getting worried."

"Sorry, Hutch.  I didn't mean to worry ya," the brunette replied.  "I just had some stuff to take care of." 

The vague answer did not have the intended soothing affect.  Hutch frowned.  "Have you been avoiding me?"

Starsky's eyebrows rose in surprise.  "No, Hutch, honest.  I was just workin' on somethin', that's all."  Then he added, "Today I was workin' on this surprise for you."

"You obviously went to a lot of trouble, Starsky," Hutch said affectionately.  "Thank you."

"The surprises ain't over yet," he grinned playfully. 

Hutch's shoulders sagged.  He picked up his wineglass and slowly walked to the couch to sit. 

Starsky came and stood before him.  "What's the matter, Hutch?"

The blonde gave him a tired look.  "Is that what all this work has been for?  You're trying to lure me into bed again?"

His eyes widened.  Kneeling in front of his best friend, he grasped Hutch's knee and spoke with an earnestness that could not be denied.  "No, Hutch.  That's not what this is about.  I told ya I wouldn't push you, and I'm not."

Hutch gestured around the room.  "Then what is all this for, huh?  You cleaned my apartment, the food, the wine, the candles, the music..."

The hand squeezed his knee to stop him.  "I wasn't tryin' to soften you up to get you into bed," he explained.  "I was tryin' to soften you up because I have a present to give you, and I really wanted you to be in a good mood when I gave it to you."

The blonde's suspicions melted as he looked into Starsky's huge and sincere eyes.  "You got me a present?  Why?"

"Ah, you know I'm not good with words Hutch.  I wanted ya to know how much I love you, and ya wouldn't let me show you."  He shrugged.  "I thought maybe I could show ya another way."

Regret squeezed Hutch's heart.  It dawned on him that he had denied his friend the opportunity to demonstrate his love the way he wanted to, the way that was most natural to him.  His actions had not just rejected Starsky's lovemaking, but his ability to express himself as well.  "Starsky, you don't have to give me presents to show you love me."  He leaned forward and gently kissed the man genuflected before him, his hand caressing Starsky's face.

Starsky reached beside the couch, and pulled out a portfolio that had been leaned up against it.  It was the culmination of the last several days' work.  He placed it in Hutch's hands, then nervously took a seat beside him, watching him intently. 

Hutch opened the portfolio to discover a collection of photographs.  "Did you take these?" he inquired. 

Starsky nodded. 

Hutch looked through each picture.  "Aw, Starsk, these are beautiful.  Each picture is a work of art." 

His partner remained silent, still acutely studying his every move.  Hutch glanced at each photo, then turned back to the beginning to go through them again, this time much more slowly to really savor each picture.

The first photo was a stark black and white, a study in contrast and shadows.  There were trees and leaves, with sunlight cascading through.  Starsky spoke up in a gentled voice, "That sight reminded me of you, of the way you think things through. I took that picture in the woods behind the Law Library at the Academy."

Hutch's jaw dropped.  He looked into Starsky's face, his eyes bright with awe.  "Starsk..." was all he could manage to say.  Starsky gestured a finger to him, telling him to turn the page.

The next photo was of a stream meeting a lake, a lovely landscape.  "This stream reminds me of your generous side, how you give everything you have. I took this picture at the park where Terry used to take the kids on field trips."

Hutch gasped, but continued on in silence.

The next photo showed several vibrantly colored birds in flight, apparently of the parrot family.  "The singing birds remind me of the music that you write. I took this picture at the zoo that you take Rosie Dobey to. I convinced the guy in the aviary to let me into the enclosure to photograph them."

He continued through the photos, each one with its own story, each one photographed at a location that had importance in Hutch's life. He compared the elements of each picture to the traits he admired in his partner. Finally Hutch came to the last photo.

The final photo showed a stunning and colorful sunset, taken high in the mountains overlooking an ocean view. The streaks of rose and violet in thesky above, the midnight blue of the water below, the grey and brown and green of the sloping mountains. "I took that on my way home.  That sunset seemed so nice and peaceful, but exciting at the same time," Starsky's soft voice described. "That's just the way I want to make you feel when I make love to you."

Hutch pulled his eyes from the captivating photograph, and gazed at Starsky's face.  His voice was tight with emotion as he attempted to speak.  "Starsky...I...I don't know what to say.  I've never..." He stopped, unable to put voice to his thoughts.

Starsky pulled Hutch into a tender kiss.  When the kiss ended, his face still very close, Starsky said simply, "I love you, Hutch."

He stood and laid his hand upon Hutch's shoulder with a gentle squeeze.  "I want to give you some time to go through those pictures on your own."  He walked to the closet and grabbed his coat.  He had his hand on the doorknob and had pulled it slightly open when he felt a hand grasp him by the shoulder, another hand slapping the door closed again.

"You aren't leaving," Hutch stated.

"Hutch..." Starsky began, but Hutch's mouth silenced him with a kiss before he could complete the sentence.  Hutch reached down and took Starsky's hand and pulled him to the bed with determination. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Starsky awakened with a sense of happiness and pleasure. He turned to see his partner sprawled deliciously across the sheets, looking untroubled and only slightly rumpled. He grinned at the sleeping form, resisting the urge to smooth the blonde strands from his lover's face.

Wide awake and his mind racing, Starsky slipped from the sheets. He wandered out to the living room, his naked body enjoying the cool breeze from the open windows. His wineglass was still sitting on the coffee table, nearly full, so he lifted it to his lips and downed the contents. His thirst was not yet quenched, so he raided the fridge for a soft drink. As he stood in front of the refrigerator, he saw all the dishes still left on the table. Putting his energy to good use, he cleared the dishes and filled the sink with water to soak them. He blew out the candles that hadn't extinguished themselves, then stretched out on the couch to contemplate the events of this evening.

He finally understood why his partner felt it necessary to push him away. Hutch loved the same way that he gave in friendship: he held nothing back. It was not a surprise to him that Hutch could be a generous and considerate lover, for that was the kind of person he was. But what he didn't expect was the depth of passion and desire and love that this man gave. He had never before felt so much arousal, so much pleasure, so much tenderness. The love had engulfed him, thrilling him to no end. It was the most satisfying lovemaking that he had ever experienced.

When Starsky had finally broken though Hutch's emotional barriers, they shattered absolutely. He was left completely vulnerable. In another man, it might have made him weak, but with Hutch, it gave him immense power and freedom. Hutch demanded back everything that he gave, and Starsky had eagerly given. He had never allowed himself to be so completely open to another lover before, and he offered his very soul to the man who had already owned his heart.  Though they had yet to complete their union, Starsky would be satisfied if they went no further than what they had shared this night.

Starsky smiled. Well, Hutch, you're stuck with me now. I couldn't walk away if I tried.

He finished off his soft drink and turned off the remaining lights before returning to Hutch's bed. With a wicked grin, he debated coaxing his partner awake for another go around. Silently he slipped back between the sheets, only to have Hutch reach out and roughly pull him close, planting kisses in a line from his ear to his shoulder.

This night was not over by a long shot.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hutch woke to the view of sunlight beaming through the slats of the window blind.  The beams shone directly onto the covered form of him and his partner, infusing them with warmth as if giving a kiss of approval.

Partner.  Hutch smiled at the term.  It meant so much more now.  He rolled onto his side and propped his head on an upturned palm, elbow digging into the mattress.  Looking down at the peaceful and relaxed form of his lover, Hutch was once again reminded of a cat.

A prowling mountain lion last night, and a contented house cat this morning.  And I was responsible for those changes, he thought to himself proudly.

He reached over and gently thumbed the mole on Starsky's left cheek.  A purr of satisfaction came from his still form.

Yep, a happy, well-satisfied house cat, liking nothing better than to sleep in the sunlight.

Slowly, long dark lashes fluttered as their owner began his waking.  Deep blue eyes gazed at Hutch through half opened lids.

"Morning lover," Hutch said when Starsky's eyes focused on his.

A soft smile lit the relaxed face and brightened the area more than the aforementioned sun.  "Mornin' schweetheart."

Hutch chuckled.  "What do you want for breakfast?"

"You don't have to make me breakfast.  Beside isn't it time you took off for your run?"

"I'm not going to run today, got my quotient of activity last night.  And I feel like cooking breakfast for you."

Starsky grinned widely.  "Yeah, you're somethin' all right.  You're amazing."

"So how about some eggs, toast, and coffee?"

"Scrambled, with Tabasco sauce?"  Starsky asked hopefully.

Hutch groaned loudly and rolled his lover off the mattress, bedclothes and all.

After a light breakfast of scrambled eggs – sans Tabasco, wheat toast, and coffee for Starsky, health shake for Hutch, the two took their turns in the bathroom to get ready for work.  There was no need to stop at Starsky's apartment for a change of clothes, as he usually had several shirts at Hutch's, and he could wear the clean jeans he wore last night.

Several times during the day Hutch found himself beginning to hold back when reaching out for his partner physically.  It seemed to Hutch's heightened senses that Logan was around everywhere, watching how the two interacted.  He kept glancing around surreptitiously for the homophobic cop, always sensing eyes on his back.

Hutch was more aware of the little touches, the intrusion into personal spaces between him and Starsky than he had ever been before.  But he knew it was important to continue acting the same as always.  Any deviation from their normal behavior patterns could send a red flag.

The problem he had now was that every time he touched, or was touched by Starsky, shivers of electricity ran down his spine or his groin began tightening.

Stealing glances at his partner, it didn't appear to Hutch that Starsky was worried about how they interacted.  Starsky behaved in much the same way as usual, other than the intimate winks, grins, and the 'once over' he gave Hutch while he was pouring his morning coffee.

Their caseload was fairly light, with a couple of unsolved homicides still in the works.  It had been a fairly light day so far; signing forms, making appointments, and visiting with the D.A.'s office.

"Starsky, Hutchinson?"  Dobey stepped out of his office into the squadroom.  He was holding a piece of paper in his right hand.

"What'cha got there Cap'n?"

"A lead on the McGraw case.  The lab just called.  The prints found in the trunk where McGraw's body was discovered were identified last night after a domestic disturbance call.  They identified the prints as belonging to James Aubie.  No priors.  RandI is running the computer to see if there's any connection between McGraw and Alexander or his wife, Keandra."

He handed the paper, which had an address on it, to Starsky.  "You two get down to the Aubie's apartment and check out if you can find any evidence.  A warrant is waiting for you downstairs.  The wife might be there to let you in, James' is in jail, but if not – see the manager."

The address on the paper was 2808 Western, Apt. 304.  It resided in one of the roughest parts of Bay City, one that consisted of run down turn-of-the-century apartment buildings, empty lots turned into tent cities by the homeless, and no businesses to speak of other than a few pawn shops, tattoo parlors, erotic stores, and bars on every corner.

As Starsky pulled up to the world-weary building, Hutch noted an older oriental man pacing across the street.  He'd walk from the end of the bar front, then turn around and do it again, like he was waiting on someone or something.  There appeared to be writing in purple and neon blue paint all over the door and what was left of a large picture window, on the building behind the agitated man.

Starsky rounded the Torino, got his partner's attention, and the two proceeded to apartment 304.  They were hopeful that Mrs. Aubie would be available and willing to talk about any dealing James had with Jason McGraw.  If not – they'd let the crime team take over the scene to search for clues using the warrant.

Their "visit" with Keandra Aubie took less than ½ hour.  The domestic violence victim was unwilling to discuss how, or if, her husband knew Jason McGraw.  The two left disappointed, but not unaware of how victims don't snitch as a way of self-preservation.

"She knows somethin' Hutch."  Starsky said, putting on his sunglasses, as they stepped down the walkway to the car.  "Did you see her flinch when we mentioned McGraw, and how her face tightened when we asked if she knew her husband's whereabouts on March 2nd?  Yep, she knows something all right."

Hutch wasn't paying attention to his partner, his gaze being drawn across the street where there now sat a black and white; a uniformed officer talking to and taking notes from the keyed up Oriental.

Realizing his partner expected some kind of response, he held out his hand toward Starsky and apologized, "Hold onto that thought.  I'll be right back," and he bounded across the street to see if he could be of assistance.

Reaching inside his leather jacket, Hutch pulled out his badge wallet as he approached the bored looking officer.

"Sgt. Hutchinson.  What's happened here?"  He looked around the ground at the shattered glass and broken bits of brick and mortar.

"Oh nothing much Sergeant.  Just a basic vandalism complaint placed by the bar's manager.  That's Mr. Choi, the custodian," he tilted his head toward the Oriental man who was now yelling at someone through the broken window in his native language.

"Third complaint this month, probably nothing'll come of it."  The officer – Dailey, his name tag read – continued, as he looked at the papers on his clipboard.

Hutch barely heard the man as his head began to pound.  Closer, he could now read the graffiti that 'decorated' the door, sprawled across the time-darkened bricks, and sprayed on parts of the unbroken window...cocksucker, homo, que...

Stunned blue eyes moved back to Officer Dailey, as Hutch realized the man was whispering conspiratorially to him.  "Any leads?"

The older cop snorted, keeping his voice low, "Nah.  And it's not like we're gonna go out of our way either.  I mean, the way these faggots flaunt their immoral activities, they deserve it.  Showing the world," he pointed to the large space where the window once stood, "their disgusting activities.  Too bad it happened early enough in the day when the bar was closed.  Maybe a few knocks in the head would put some sense in these queers."

Hutch felt his gut twist as his eyes faded into dulled blue pools. He clenched his teeth, and his fingers curled into fists. The mousy-brown cop appeared oblivious to the change in the tall blonde detective's bearing.

Suddenly Starsky appeared by his side, peering at Hutch from over the top of his sunglasses. "Uh, Hutch?" He lightly touched Hutch's arm with his fingers.

Officer Dailey placed his pencil in the clipboard and extended his right hand. "Mike Dailey. You two partners?"

Starsky returned the grip. "Sgt. Dave Starsky, 9th Homicide. What's going on here Hutch that grabbed your attention?"

Hutch gave him a look, but he didn't say anything. His silence spoke volumes to his partner, who began to make detailed observations of the scene.

"I was just telling your partner here, that this is the third in a series of vandalisms on this bar.  It's the only one in the area that caters to fags, so it gets all the negative attention.  Of course, if these queers would just move outta the neighborhood, I wouldn't have to deal with all this."  Dailey rolled his eyes and grimaced with revulsion.  "But no, they won't.  So that means I usually have to talk to them and go into that den of queens."  He looked closer at the two detectives for a minute.  "Starsky, Hutchinson...Hey I know you guys.  You're pretty famous all over the department."

Starsky pushed his sunglasses up to shield his eyes, unwilling to share the loathing and alarm he was sure they betrayed.  "Come on partner.  Let's get back to the station and take care of this paperwork."

The drive back to the precinct was made in quiet.  Starsky was wondering what was going on deep inside his partner's mind.  It's gotta be somethin' big the way that brow's furrowed.

Faggot, queer, cocksucker, homo...  Hutch kept seeing the bright words running through his mind.  Overlapping the graffiti were the hateful words of Officer Dailey.  They deserve it...move outta the neighborhood...den of queens...

Is that how society views me now?  How would Dailey have reacted if he knew those words applied to me?  Do those words apply to me?

Hutch had to admit to himself that they did.

How do I feel about it?  He asked himself.  Angry, saddened, frustrated, he told himself; that he couldn't embrace Starsky the way he had Vanessa – in front of the world.

Hutch had another, more frightening thought.  Is that how Starsky sees me?  A faggot?  Hutch couldn't imagine that Starsky would see him like that, but after taking him into his mouth last night, maybe Starsky thought less of him.  He had never performed such an act on a man before.  Does it make me less of one? He wondered.

Hutch was worried that his own self-image was changing before his eyes and he was powerless to stop it.

He rubbed his left hand over his mouth.  This was going to take some serious soul searching; he glanced at his partner next to him, and he couldn't do that with Starsky around.  He was bound to know something was bothering Hutch and wouldn't let up with the questions.

As if on cue, Starsky glanced out of the corner of his eyes and asked Hutch if he had a headache coming on.

"No, just thinking."

"'Bout what?"

"Stuff.  Us."

"Come on Blintz.  You can't lie to me.  You're getting all worked up over there and giving yourself one hell of a headache."

Sighing, Hutch gave in.  "Those words.  The ones written on that bar."

Starsky thought for a moment before answering.  "They're just words Hutch.  You can't let 'em get to you."

Hutch looked away and out the passenger window.  "I know.  I know you're right, but...it does bother me.  How people can be so hateful.  They don't understand."

"No they don't, and that's why you can't let 'em bug you.  I know you – you'll keep going over and over this in your mind until you burst a vessel or somethin' up there."  Starsky pointed at Hutch's temple.  But he knew his blonde.  Hutch couldn't help but think about it; let it roll around under that thick skull of his until he found a way to compartmentalize it.

Hutch felt Starsky's gaze on him as he turned off the ignition.

The two sat silently for a minute or two, each concerned about the other.  Starsky, wondering if Hutch would open up to him; Hutch wondering if he should get away for awhile to come to terms with how he saw himself.  How to deal with any public and work issues that may come down the road.

And what about their future?  Starsky had never mentioned any kind of commitment or monogamous relationship.  Am I looking for that?  The answer came without hesitation:  Yes, I want a permanent relationship with Starsky.  But the other had never given him a hint as to what he wanted.

Is it better to have loved for even a little while, or never to have known that love at all?  The quietness inside the car gave no answers to Hutch's take on the age-old question.

I haven't been back home in awhile.  Maybe I should go visit Mom and Dad and Karyn.  All of a sudden he felt the need to go back home, a sudden bout of homesickness overwhelming him.  Thinking about it now made him feel good.  I'll do it.  He made his mind up suddenly.  I'll tell Dobey I need some time off to be with my family.  Now...How do I tell Starsky?

Hutch stepped out of the Torino and mumbled "see you tomorrow Starsk", closing the door behind him.  He was so lost in thought that he didn't notice the big red machine hadn't left Venice Place.

Starsky sat watching his partner as he walked into his building.  Somethin's bothering the Blintz.  I thought maybe he'd invite me up for a bit.  Guess I'll have to take things by the horn.  Turning off the ignition, the curly haired detective sat for a few more minutes, wondering how to approach his brooding partner.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hutch stormed into his apartment, filled with a rage he didn't understand.  It wasn't anything he hadn't seen a thousand times before.  Yet the graffiti kept popping into his thoughts; haunting him, taunting him.  Now they were more personal.

Faggot, queen, cocksucker, queer.

He grabbed an empty beer bottle that he had left on the coffee table and threw it crashing into the wall.  Brown glass shards rained down in a satisfying chaos.

"Feel better?"

Hutch whirled around, startled at the sound of Starsky's voice.  He thought his partner had left.  Starsky stood in the doorway with his keys in his hands, absently playing with them.  His eyes were on Hutch, watching with empathy.

The blonde was breathing heavy, still suppressing the bulk of his frustration.  He met his partner's eyes.  "No."

Starsky sauntered into the kitchen, cordially calling out, "If I get you a full one, will you promise not to chuck it into the wall?"

His question brought a reluctant smile to Hutch's lips.  "Only if it's cold.  If it's warm, I'm not making any promises."

The brunette came out with a white kitchen towel draped over his arm like a wine steward.  He posed the beer bottle against his draped arm, offering it to his friend as if it were a bottle of fine champagne.  He clicked his sneakered feet, and gave a sharp bow.  "Your beer sir," he announced.

Hutch grabbed the offered beer and took a swig.  Starsky's calming presence had managed to tame his anger.  They both shed their coats and their guns and dropped onto the couch.  Hutch leaned his head back and closed his eyes. 

"So what was that all about?" Starsky prodded.

Hutch looked up at the ceiling.  In his mind's eye he saw the foul slurs spray painted there.  "I was thinking about that gay bar...and the graffiti."

Starsky nodded.  He was quiet for a few minutes, then observed, "You're takin' it a little personal, aren't ya?"

Letting out a deep breath, Hutch glanced at his partner.  "Yeah.  I am.  In society's eyes, I am less than a man.  It's an unsettling notion."

"You're worried about what other people think?"

"We have to worry about what other people think, Starsk.  Our lives depend on other people.  What happens if we're taking fire and our back up never shows because they don't intend to help a couple of queers?"  He leapt to his feet and paced.  "You know how that makes me feel, buddy?  To know that my love for you could get you killed?"

"I'm not worried about that."

Hutch was about to reply when Starsky interrupted.  "I got the best back up there is."

"Starsky, I don't want to hide how I feel about you."  His expression begged understanding.  He sighed and continued.  "My bed and who's in it are nobody else's business.  What makes me angry is that I have to discipline myself not to reveal that I'm in love.  To survive I'm supposed to deny my feelings for you.  And if I don't, not only could it get us killed, but I'll be subjecting us to the kind of crap we saw today."

He sat down on the coffee table facing Starsky.  "Have you thought about facing our families?"

Starsky nodded.  "Yeah.  I was thinking about flying out there in the next few weeks.  Seems like I should tell 'em in person."

"You want me to come with you?  For support?"

"No, I don't think that's such a good idea.  I think I need to tell them alone, let 'em get used to the idea before they see us together again."  Then he added, "What about you?  Are you gonna tell your folks?"

Hutch studied the bottle in his hands.  "I don't think it really matters when or how I tell them.  I think I know how they're going to react.  I don't think they'll embrace the idea willingly – my parents that is.  I'm hoping that Karyn will be more understanding.

He patted Hutch's knee, and made the reverse of Hutch's previous offer.  "I'll come with ya, buddy.

Hutch grew serious.  "It shouldn't be like this," he said quietly.

"You've got too much worry bouncin' around in that blonde head of yours," Starsky observed.

"Yes," he confessed.  "I'm full of conflicting emotions, Starsk.  I don't even know where to begin to sort it all out.  I'm not even sure what I feel anymore."  He turned his gaze on his partner, just in time to see something flash in his eyes.  "I didn't mean it like it sounded Starsky.  I am sure of my feelings for you.  It's just that loving you comes with all of the other stuff..."

"Hutch, you're thinkin' too much," Starsky criticized.  "I know just the thing to get your mind off your troubles."  He got to his feet

Hutch shook his head in frustration.  "Starsky, I'm really not in the right frame of mind for any..."

Starsky had come up behind where Hutch was sitting, and grabbed his shoulders in a massaging fashion.  "You're not in the right frame of mind for a backrub, buddy?  Come on and lay down.  I promise, no funny business."

Tempted, he dropped his head, allowing his partner to knead the tense muscles there.  "That feels good," he murmured. 

"Come on," Starsky coaxed.  "I want you stretched out so I can do this right." 

Hutch followed him to the bed and stripped off his clothes to lie down.  Starsky found some lotion, and climbed up to straddle Hutch's backside.  Warming the lotion in his hands, he proceeded to firmly work his tight back.  Soon, the blonde was yielding to his touch, relaxing and mellowing under the talented hands.  The massage continued for a long time, until Starsky suspected that the man had fallen asleep.

"Hutch?" he whispered. 

When he got no response, he gently slipped off the bed, and pulled the covers up high to keep his friend warm and cozy.  He drew the drapes closed and turned out the light, leaving him to peacefully slumber.

Before leaving, Starsky picked up the mess left by Hutch's hurtled beer bottle.  He carefully discarded all the broken glass he could find, and wiped down the wall and furniture that were splattered.  Satisfied he had cleaned it up well; he put on his holster and then his jacket, and silently left the apartment. 

Hutch woke a couple hours later.  The backrub had done its job, leaving him better physically than he had felt all day.  However, the questions still plagued him.  He ached to see his family once more, and walk again through the streets in which he played as a child.  Life had been simpler then, and his family had supported him no matter what his life choices.  He wished that would be the case now, but deep down he knew this was too much too hope for.  There was an underlying unease in his thoughts, that his family would turn him out. 

It was still early yet, so Hutch grabbed his phone and started to make some calls.  Before long, he had plane tickets arranged for a trip to Minnesota.  He called Dobey and told him there was a family emergency, and was granted time off without further question.  Now all he had to do was tell Starsky.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Starsky opened his door, surprised to see Hutch standing there.  "Come in, Blintz!  Don't just hang in the hallway.  Why didn't you use your key?"  He led the way in, heading for the kitchen.

Hutch shrugged.  He walked in and took off his coat and gun.  "Thanks for the backrub, Starsk.  It really helped."

Grinning, Starsky handed him a beer.  "It's about time I could return the favor," he replied, referring to the frequent backrubs Hutch used to give him during his physical therapy after the shooting.  "I'm glad you're here," he murmured, "I was missin' ya tonight."

The blonde dropped his eyes to the beer bottle and took a deep breath.  He knew he should tell Starsky his plans, but was suddenly unable to find the words.  The change in him did not go unnoticed by his partner.

"Everything all right, Hutch?" he queried. 

Hutch met his eyes.  "I just got off the phone with the airlines.  I've got a flight out of here tomorrow."  He saw the hurt in the other's eyes.  "I'm going home for a while, Starsk.  I need to see my family, I need to think this through."

"You're runnin' away?" Starsky challenged.

"No, I'm not running from you.  I just need to figure all this out, and I can't do that when I'm here, with you.  I need to think, and quite honestly Starsky, I can't think when I'm near you.  And I don't want my internal conflicts to hurt you."

"Hutch, why don't we talk about this, huh?  You and me, we can work this out, on our own.  You don't need to be flyin' off to Minnesota."

"I need this, Starsky."

"Are you goin' there to tell 'em about us?"

"I don't know what I'm going to say.  I just don't know, Starsk.  Give me this time, will you?  I need to work this out on my own.  And right now I want to see my family.  I may lose them when all this goes down, and I'm having a hard time with that.  I need to see them again."

Starsky winced inwardly over those words, but he carefully kept his emotions in check from his partner.  He wanted him to talk it over with him, work it out together.  But Hutch felt he needed this and he was going to give it to him.  He had faith in Hutch.  He swallowed hard.  "How long will you be gone?"

"I don't know.  I scheduled a return flight in three weeks, but I don't know if I'll change that."

The brunette nodded.  "Hutch, I'm not gonna stop you.  But if you aren't back here in three weeks, I'm comin' after ya."

Hutch smiled at him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hutch walked into The Pits half an hour past its opening.  The tall, thin, black bartender looked up in surprise at seeing his friend at his establishment so early in the day.

"Hey bro," Huggy said pulling the keg lever as he drew a glass of draft for Hutch.  "Where's the dark half of the infamous duo?"  He set the full glass in front of the blonde.

"Working."

"Speaking of gainful employment- shouldn't you be there too?"

"I'm, uh, taking off for awhile Hug.  Just dropped in to say goodbye."

"May this wise one be informed of why?"  Huggy placed both hands on the edge of the bar and peered at his friend.  "Anything you wanna tell me about?  The bear is all ears – figuratively and literally."

Hutch looked down at his beer, fingertips lightly touching both sides of the cold glass.  "I know Starsky told you about us."

"Yep."  Huggy left it at that.

Blue eyes flew up to brown ones, looking for some kind of judgment; all they saw was compassion and acceptance.

Relieved, Hutch continued, "I'm still getting used to the idea, while Starsky...he's had all these months to figure things out and work through them.  He doesn't understand that all these feelings are new to me."

Huggy leaned back against his counter.  There were no other patrons in the bar, so he had plenty of time to let his blonde brother spill his guts.  "Continue."

"I need some time away from all this to sort it out in my head – what it all means, how it's going to change us, how it's going to change my view of myself."

"Understandable."

"So I'm going home for a few weeks to sort through it."

A few moments of awkward silence passed with out either man saying anything.

"Are you going to just stare at me all day without saying anything?"  Hutch asked, watching his friend.

Huggy sighed.  "Hutch, I'm just a bartender, and bartenders don't talk – they listen."

"But you're also our friend," Hutch pointed out.

"Ah, ha.  And since I want to maintain that kinship – no matter how trying it can be sometimes – I know enough to keep my mouth shut."

"Huggy..."

"Listen, this is something you two gotta work out yourselves.  I am a good listener, however, so why don't you just tell old Huggy Bear what's stirrin' round under those goldilocks?"  He felt for the man across from him; he wanted to give him something.  "Amigo, I can say that I haven't seen Starsky as happy as he is since he was squiring Terry."  A warm brown hand reached out to touch Hutch's leather-clad arm.  "You obviously need to lighten your load.  That's what friends are for.  So lay it on me."

Hutch dove right in – knowing now Huggy didn't see their new way of loving each other in a negative light.  "I'm in love with him," he simply said.

"I could'a tol' you that long time ago," Huggy said with a smirk.

Hutch chuckled as he took another sip of his beer.  Setting the glass down, he continued, "I didn't realize it myself until a few weeks ago."

"Yeah, it takes you blondes awhile to figure things out."

Blue eyes rolled at the attempted joke.

"But I'm worried about what it means.  If word of our relationship got around the precinct, we'd be as good as dead – probably career wise and possibly literally."

"What else is botherin' you?"  Huggy could tell there was more.

"What happens when he no longer sees me like that, or when some hot little number comes on to him?  I can't give him what a woman can." 

"Hey...Hutch?"  Huggy softened his voice.  "Starsky loves you man."

"I know Huggy, but he's a man of passion.  After awhile he might change his mind.  How can I compete with a soft, curvy female?"

"Stop worrying about that.  This ain't no competition.  And him leaving – it ain't never gonna happen."  Huggy's voice was firm as he shook his head.

"Everyone I've ever loved has left me one way or another – Vanessa, Gillian, Abby, Anna, Marianne..." His voice trailed off as he thought of those who left him for various reasons – greed, death, fear, career, lies...

"Does Curly know you're splittin'?"

"Yeah.  I went over last night and told him."

"How'd he take it?"

"How do you think he took it?  He was disappointed, but he said he respected my decision.  He knows I need to this for myself.  I asked him for this time.  I'll be back, I won't be gone long."

"Hutch, he trusts you.  He knows you'll keep your word.  Now you just gotta trust your own feelings."

Hutch drank the rest of his beer as he got off the stool.  "Well, I've got to head to LAX.  My plane leaves in just over an hour.  Thanks for the beer, and the ear.  How much do I owe you for everything?"

"Are you talking the refreshment you just imbibed, or your whole tab?"  Huggy joked, then amended seeing the glare, "$2.00 for the beer.  The conversation's been paid for with friendship." 

Hutch handed Huggy a $5 bill and walked toward the door.

The thin proprietor watched his still brooding friend leave, making a mental note to check on the darker half of the duo while his partner was gone.

Just then two of his regular's walked in, shoving his concerns over his friends to the side as he got down to business.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Friday

It was late afternoon by the time Hutch's plane landed at Duluth International Airport.  He gathered his one suitcase and hailed a cab.

None of his family knew he was arriving, but knowing his parent's traveling and work schedule, he was sure they would be at home.  He wanted to surprise them, as he hadn't been back home in quite a few years.  Both his mother and Karyn had come to visit him when he was ill after coming down with the plague, but other than phone calls, letters and cards, he hadn't had any other contact with them since.  He missed that.  Especially now that Karyn was married.

Giving the cabbie the address, Hutch watched the city glide by through unseeing eyes; thoughts on the partner he left back in California and the upcoming scene he would be facing.

The drive to his parent's house in Lakeside took 40 minutes, giving Hutch time to think about how he would approach his family.  He didn't think over dinner one evening would be appropriate.  He didn't know if it would be better or easier to tell them all at once, or one at a time.  I guess I'll just have to play it by ear.

As the cab pulled up in front of the house he had grown up in, Hutch noticed that the garage door was open, yet his parent's silver Cadillac was not present.  That's odd.  They're always so careful about security.  He stepped out of the car and pulled several bills from his wallet while the cabbie opened the trunk to retrieve Hutch's suitcase and carry-all.

Hutch stood on the sidewalk, staring at the house and reflecting on all the changes in his life since he'd been here last.  I never picture myself coming back home quite this way.  After I tell them – will I ever be able to come home again?  With Starsky?  He soaked in the nostalgia, not seeing the blonde female running out through the garage and down the driveway towards him.

Finally, his cop's instinct took over and he turned sideways just as the female threw herself into his arms with a squeal of joy.  "Kenny!"

Hutch dropped his bags onto the sidewalk and gathered his younger sister into a heady embrace.  This is what made everything worthwhile, he thought as a broad smile erupted on his face.  He drew himself away and took in the sight of his beloved sister.  Five years younger than himself, she was just as blonde, almost as tall, but not quite as tanned.

"Is it really you?  God, I can't believe you're here!"  Karyn ran her hand over his cheeks as she looked at her adored older brother.  Then she sat her hands on her hips and scolded him teasingly, "And why didn't you let any of us know you were coming?  We would've me you at the airport."

Hutch laughed at the breath of fresh air Karyn represented, as he gathered her into another strong embrace with his long arms.  "If you'd let me get a word in edgewise, I'll tell you.  In the meantime, where are Mom and Dad?"

"Dad went with Bob to the hardware store to get some parts for our dishwasher, which is on the blink again.  Mom is visiting with Mrs. Carter to discuss some upcoming women's church event.  So I'm stuck here until Bob gets back, and glad I am that I stayed behind."

"Me too."

Karyn put her arm through Hutch's offered right one, as he picked up his bags and they headed into the house through the garage entrance.

Hutch and Karyn compared notes and brought each other up-to-date with the 'goings on' in their lives – with one major exception.  Hutch told Karen about Starsky's recovery and eventual return to street duty.  Karyn, in turn, regaled her brother with stories of first-time homeownership.

"Kenny, you sound – oh, I don't know – happy I guess is the way I'd describe it.  I was worried about you.  Most of the last year you sounded sad...bored."

"Burnt out is the word I think you're looking for."

Karyn nodded.

"I think I was.  Or at least I was headed that way."

"Everything's okay now though?"  In her wide dark cornflower blue eyes, Hutch suddenly got a flash of Starsky; Karyn reminded him of his excitable lover.  Not in looks, but in their personality and outlook.

He stood up from the chair he had been sitting in, rubbing his palms against his corduroys.  "I should probably call Starsky; let him know I got in okay."  His eyes darted around the room, not really looking at anything, but wanting to avoid Karyn's soul searching eyes.

"Kenny?" She put her hand on her brother's arm to re-focus him.  "Is everything okay?"  She asked again.

Hutch took a deep breath and sighed.  "Yeah...Yes it is sweetheart," he said more convincingly.  He then gave her a loving peck on the forehead.  "Everything's better than okay.  I'm feeling better about the job these days and I'm happier than I've been in a long time.  I just needed a break.  It's been a rough year and a half, and I wanted to get away from California for awhile."

To change the subject, he then turned the tables on his sister, asking her the same question he knew his parents were always bugging her about.  "So when are you gonna make me an uncle?"

Karyn groaned and Hutch laughed; the conversation switched to more mundane things.

A short time later Bob Atkins and Richard Hutchinson cam home from their male 'I can fix it myself' excursion.  Both were surprised and pleased to see their visitor.

Ken and Bob lightly hugged and slapped each other on the back, while Hutch's father merely stuck his hand out in greeting with a "Ken" and a brief nod.  "Good to have you here son.  Coming back to join the old man in his practice?" 

It was a common area of discussion, and a hopeful ideal by the elder Hutchinson that one day his son would change his career and move back home to join his father's corporate law practice.  Especially after Starsky's shooting.  Both Richard and Margaret Hutchinson became more worried over their only son's safety when his best friend nearly died.

Margaret Hutchinson was thrilled to see her son when she arrived home, greeting him effusively with a kiss on both cheeks and a tight hug for such a slight woman. The group decided to go out for dinner to celebrate Hutch's unexpected visit. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sunday morning, the entire Hutchinson clan gathered at Pine Hill Church. Margaret and Richard took the front row as usual, heads held high, happy and proud, as they stood with their first born between them. Karyn stood beside their mother, also delighted to have the entire family together again; Bob on her other side.

The service took less than an hour, and the group found themselves cornered near the entrance of the church by friends and parishioners who were anxious to meet the tall blonde police detective from California. Hutch patiently tolerated the many introductions, and found himself pleased to meet some of Karyn's friends.  They were finally able to extricate themselves from the curious and the well wishers, and they made their way home for the typical Sunday family meal. During all of this, Karyn took notice that Hutch was unusually quiet and serious.

After dinner, Karyn suggested that Hutch accompany her for a walk, to burn off some of the wonderful cherry pie their mother had pushed them into eating for desert. Hutch jumped at the chance.

They strolled for a distance, finally ending up at a park they used to play in when they were young. A cement bench offered a place to sit and watch the children playing on the swing-set and teeter-totter, so they rested their feet for the long trek back.

"Kenny, you seem awfully quiet today. Is something bothering you?"

Annoyed that he hadn't been more careful in schooling his emotions, he frowned. No point in lying. "I was just thinking about what Rev. Tom said this morning." He paused, then met her eyes and asked, "Do you agree with that?  What he said in the first reading."

Karyn was puzzled. "Agree with him about what, Kenny?"

He recited a portion of the first reading. "Do not be deceived: Neither the sexually immoral, nor idolaters, nor adulterers, nor male prostitutes, nor homosexual offenders, nor thieves, nor the greedy, nor drunkards, nor slanderers, nor swindlers, will inherit the kingdom of God."

Her eyebrows scrunched together. Her brother was never one to debate theology, so his concern was probably something more personal. She did not answer right away, studying his serious expression.  "Kenny, as far as I know this is the first time you have set foot in a church since the last time you were in Minnesota.  Why on Earth would you be troubled about the first reading or what Rev. Tom had to say about it?"

"I'm not troubled about Rev. Tom's sermon.  I want to know what you feel about the topic."

"What topic, Kenny?  I'm not following you."

"What are your feelings about homosexuality?"

The question took her aback. She wondered why this was a matter of such importance to her brother. "I don't know.  It's not a subject I have a lot of familiarity with.  I don't think I've ever had any firsthand experience with homosexuals, at least not that I know of.  A person's sexual orientation just doesn't matter to me.  I remember discussing the topic in college, the Nature vs Nurture idea, and I don't feel anyone has a choice in their sexual orientation, not heterosexuals or homosexuals.  Is that what you mean?  I guess I'm just not sure what you are asking..."  It occurred to her that he may have been worried about a friend, and an image of his roommate in the academy jumped to mind; the man who was his current best friend. Surely it couldn't be Starsky, could it? She had once had an innocent schoolgirl crush on the dark and sexy man with the beautiful smile. "Ken, are you asking because of your friend Starsky?"

Hutch gasped a little in surprise that she would come up with Starsky's name. Did she suspect? "Uh, yes and no..." He reached out and took his younger sister's hand.  "Karyn, there is something I have to tell you."

Karyn looked into the soulful eyes of her older brother and the truth dawned on her. "Kenny...you and Starsky?"

"I love him, Karyn. We're together now."

She enveloped her brother in a warm hug. "Oh Kenny, I am happy you've found love, but I'm also afraid for you." His grip tightened, and tears sprung to her eyes. "You weren't worried about telling me, were you?"

"I wasn't sure how anyone would take it, finding out I was in love with Starsky."

"I love you, big brother; nothing is going to change that."

He released his sister and again took her hand in a gentle squeeze. Hutch saw tears in her eyes and reached up with his free hand to brush them away. "Why the tears?"