The Basis of Purpose
 

by Hutchlover

June, 1980

The shadowed figure outside apartment suite 601 looked into the sliding glass doors that abutted the balcony.  The balcony overlooked the pool area, and the safety lighting reflected off the glass showing nothing but an outline of the man with the dark clothes and ski mask.

Quietly, he placed a suction cup next to the locking mechanism on the glass doors.  Taking a hand held glass cutter, he silently cut a small square into the glass, using the suction cup to remove the piece.  Reaching his hand inside, he clicked the lock on the door and gently slid it open.

All this was done in less than two minutes and without a sound to warn the sleeping figures in their master bedroom suite.

The intruder knew exactly where his victims lay.  He had staked them and their habits out for several weeks, doing his homework well.  They never even knew he had a layout of their apartment in his own place and had memorized both this apartment and each of their work places.

Lying side by side, facing each other in the large king bed, the sleeping men had no realization that their lives were about to come to an abrupt end.

Sneering behind his mask, the intruder removed a serrated hunting knife from inside the sock/boot that was wrapped around his pant legs.  Walking to the right side of the bed, he grabbed a fistful of longish blonde hair and slid the serrated edge of the knife across the long neck before the victim could awaken from the jolt.  That one went silently from sleep to death as deep red blood poured onto the white and blue checkered sheets.

Moving to the other side, the murderer grabbed the darker head and raised it from its bent position, making sure to set his knee on the legs of his intended victim so he was trapped between his weight and the knife.  He placed the knife tip on the side of the neck at the jugular.  Instinct awoke that one, though his vision was blurred with sleep and shadows.  The murderer always toyed with his second victims, so they understood what was being done and why.

A heavy, grainy voice whispered close to his right ear.  "See what you've done?  You've killed him with your wicked ways."

The prone man's eyes flew open as he saw his lover for the first time since awakening.  Blood dripping from a dark, evil slit in his neck.  From the size of the wound and the amount of blood on the sheets and underlying pillow, he knew his lover was dead or would soon be.

NO!  Then a flash of light, a brief stabbing pain, and darkness.

~~*~~

Captain McIntyre of the Venice District police force sighed as he looked over the mess in the large apartment suite of the two murder victims.  Both had been well known gay activists and the darker man was an up and coming artist of the kind that Venice Beach seemed to attract lately.

Both men had been dead for several hours according to the medical examiner, but a closer time of death would have to be determined during the autopsy.  A neighbor coming home from his third shift job had noticed the rope hanging down from the roof that led to the balcony and a more intense look showed him the opening in the sliding door.  The apartment manager actually discovered the bodies.

The large 2^nd generation Irishman sighed as the two gurneys passed him on their final journey.  "Get me Captain Dobey at Metro."  He told one of his uniformed officers.  "This looks like one of his."

~~*~~

"...a month since, well you know Hutch.  Get over it."  Starsky pushed the double doors to the squad room as he attempted to end the subject he began as they parked in the lot.  The same subject they'd debated over for the past month – Hutch's need to overly protect his partner since the anniversary of Starsky's shooting.

Arriving at the precinct on time for once, the dynamic duo of Metro went through their usual morning routine of pouring a mug of bland coffee and checking the assignment board before going to their desks to finish the previous days paperwork.  Hutch kept quiet after Starsky's admonition, but that wouldn't stop him from being extra alert – he couldn't help it.

Removing their jackets and settling down, both noticed a pink sheet of paper on their desks.  'Interrogation Room 7 ASAP.  Dobey'

"Starsk?"  Hutch held up his note across from his partner, as the other looked down at his own.

The curled head looked up.  "Hey Hutch.  Dobey wants to see me."

Wiggling his note from across the way to show he got the same message, Hutch sighed.  "Guess he's got something for us.  Maybe on the CAG murders."

"Yeah, hopefully something broke overnight."

Someone, most likely a male, was killing off gay couples.  He didn't seem to target individuals cruising bars or streets, but rather committed couples.  Two couples had been murdered over the past three months.  If he continued his pattern, another set would soon be killed – unless Starsky and Hutch could find the killer first.

"Well, we won't know until we go and find out."  Hutch stood from his desk and swallowed another gulp of coffee before 'bearding the lion'.

"You wanted to see us Cap?"  Starsky opened up the door to the room and promptly stopped.  Surprised to see two other occupants.

"Stop staring at your fellow detectives and get in here Starsky."  Dobey waved a file at his detective.

"Simmons, Babcock.  Aren't you on 2^nd shift now?"  Hutch greeted the men as he walked in and took a chair.

"What'cha doin' here?"  Starsky was immediately suspicious.  He suspected this little meet was about the ongoing CAG murders, but why would Simmons and Babcock be here?  They had enough on their plate.

"I'm handing over the CAG investigation to Simmons and Babcock."

Starsky drew himself up defensively and narrowed his eyes, looking directly at his Captain.  "Why?"

A large hand reached out to rest on his forearm.  "Starsk.  Let's listen to the Captain first."  Hutch turned to face Dobey without removing his hand from Starsky.  "Is there a problem with our investigation Captain?"

Looking back and forth between the other two detectives, who hadn't said anything, Dobey attempted to calm their concerns.  "No, Hutchinson, you've done all you could with the evidence presented.  However...I need you to go under on this case and work surreptitiously with Simmons and Babcock while they work the outside."

"Why?"  Starsky was still defensive about being removed as lead investigators.  "Does this have anything to do with my capabilities?  Because I've proven..."

"Of course not Starsky, don't even ask me that again.  You've more than proven yourself."  The large Captain sighed and shoved the file in his hand across the table.  "There's been another set of murders."  He waited until Hutch opened the file while Starsky watched over his shoulder.

"Same M.O.  Committed couple, serrated weapon left at scene, no prints, quiet entry and escape."

"We'll need you to bring us up on this one Hutch.  Dobey's moving us to first.  We'll be using this room as our central post."  Babcock spoke up.

Hutch looked up from the file, just now realizing what his Captain wanted.  Looking at his partner, it was obvious it hadn't hit Starsky yet.  "Uh, undercover Cap?  The only cover we could do on this case is, um, as potential victims."

"Exactly."  Dobey waited for the realization to hit the other man before continuing.

The curled head shot up and looked between his blushed partner and his shuffling Captain.  "Uh, uh."  His head slowly shook.  "No way Cap.  Ain't gonna work."

"Starsky I need detectives to go undercover on this.  I know you'll both watch each other's backs and I trust you to catch this guy along with Simmons and Babcock's help."  Dobey looked down into his substantial lap before continuing.  "Besides, you two already have a...well things have been said in the past about the two of you that leads me to believe that you two – out of all my other detective's – have the ability to pull this off.  Especially since the shooting."

"You mean the rumors that say we're nailing each other to the bed?"  Starsky was nothing if not blunt.

"Ahem.  Well, I wouldn't put it quite like that, but your unique closeness..."

Hutch came right to the point.  "Cap'n?  I'll do it, but I don't think we can pull this off.  These men were in committed relationships.  And what if this, act if you will, damages our partnership beyond repair?"

"If you pull this off Hutchinson, I'll recommend both of you for promotion.  I know it'll be tough with Starsky not having a degree, but exceptions have been made from time to time.  And if anyone deserves it, it's you too."

"So that's it?  Do this and we get our promotions?  Don't and we'll be walking a plainclothes beat for the rest of our careers?"  Starsky was confused by Hutch's willingness, but also outraged by the perceived blackmail.

"I'm sorry if you see if it like that Starsky, but the Chief's giving me grief to get this case solved.  I don't get a choice and neither do you.  This isn't a temporary service where we can pick and choose our assignments!

We've got an alderman and his companion dead, two entrepreneurs, and now two highly recognized gay activists – one of whom happened to be a rising artist.  The press is breathing down the department's back, as is the mayor and city council.  It's not like anyone's suggesting you do anything that would compromise yourselves.  You just need to be visible in the gay community as a couple in a committed relationship."

"And how do you propose to set this up?  I mean, we know this guy does his homework.  He'll know we're cops."

Dobey looked at his other detectives, they had already been briefed.  He knew this was the hard part to sell.  "Uh, we've already got a place set up for you.  Jobs have been lined up – Starsky as a photography assistant, and Hutchinson working in a greenhouse.  We tried to find something close to your interests."

"Okay, new jobs, new place.  Makes sense, but I'm telling you again, this ain't gonna work.  If, and that's a big if, this guys picks us as potential victims, he's gonna know we're cops.  He ain't stupid, he'll figure out he's being set up."  Starsky leaned over the table, refusing to sit down, knowing that his Captain was holding out.

A deep sigh came from the large man across from him.  "This meeting was set up to ostensibly fire you for moral depravity."

"WHAT!?  Wait a minute Captain, I don't know that I can agree to that."

Starsky dropped his hands onto the table and leaned inward.  "I knew it.  I knew there had to be a catch.  Forget it."

Simmons looked with compassion at one of his best friends.  "Sorry Starsky.  The news has already been spread around the department."

Hutch couldn't believe they were being railroaded into this, and by their friends and co-workers.  "Wait a minute, the entire department already knows?"

Simmons nodded his brown head in the affirmative.

Starsky dropped his head into his hands and groaned.  "Shit.  And what about our families?  Can we at least tell them what's going down?"  He lifted his head to ask the painful question.

Dobey nodded his head.  "No.  Keep contact with them to a minimum to maintain your cover.  Are there any girls you're seeing at the moment?"

The two looked at each other and shrugged.  "Not really.  I mean there's a few stewardesses we see when they come into town, but no one special."

"Well, keep this to yourselves and the three of us."

"What about Huggy?"  Starsky's hands were tightly folded together in tension.

"You know him best, use your best judgment."

Two blue eyes met each other.

"How're we gonna go out there now Hutch?  With everyone thinkin' what they're thinkin' about us?"

"We have to.  We can't live in this room."  A slight grin came over his face, or maybe it was more of a grimace.  "Besides, like Dobey says, it's not like anything we've never heard before.  We just ignore it.  And if it helps catch the murderer..."

"But now they think they know the truth, and we can't even say anything."

He composed himself and peered intently at his Captain.  "But this had better work.  I'm not risking Hutch's life and our partnership if this don't work out."

"I understand Starsky.  I'm gonna have to ask you to turn over your badges to make it appear real, but you can keep your weapons for safety reasons.  I'll push through the paperwork to get you registered as carrying civilians.  You won't be able to use the Mars or the radio."  He sighed, hating to put his best men in this position, but knowing he had no other choice.

 "We'll have to set up a secure meeting place, and you'll have to be careful at your place and in your cars, even though we've never found any evidence of bugs in any of the other victims places."  Quietly, Babcock placed a set of keys in front of Hutch.  "Those are for your new apartment.  It's only got one bedroom.  Sorry."  He shrugged in embarrassment.

Hutch fingered the keys, rubbing them between his forefinger and thumb.  "It's not like we haven't stayed in the same room – or bed for that matter, before."  He said absently.

Simmons walked around behind his friends.  "We'll leave you two alone to get a grip and discuss how you want to handle your end."  He placed a friendly hand on Hutch's shoulder.

Starsky snorted.  "Not like anyone's giving us much choice, unless we wanna walk on outta here and give our entire careers up."

"Starsk?"

"No Hutch, I'm not gonna give up all that training and work we did over the last year."

Dobey got up to leave Starsky and Hutch alone also, then turned before exiting the door.  "One thing.  I wouldn't jump right away into the new place.  Give it a week to make it seem more realistic.  Start making the rounds at the popular gay places around the city.  Have uh, what's his name – Sugar? – put some introductions out there for you two."

The door opened and as the three quietly left, whispers could be heard outside the hallway.

Hutch covered his face with his hands.  "Shit."  The word came out as an exhale of air beneath the large hands.

Starsky, who hadn't sat down the entire time, began to pace the small room behind his partner.  "You got that right.  Now what're we gonna do?"

"Go home, eat, try to sleep.  Figure this all out tomorrow."  Gravity forced the large hands to drop onto the table in resignation.

"No, I mean, in order to pull this off, we gotta figure out how we're gonna act."

"You think we can?"

Shoulders shrugged in answer.  "Sure, why not.  We're not the best on the force for nothin'."

"Well, then maybe we should do what Dobey suggested and go see Sugar?"

The other man whipped around.  "Why?  If you think I'm gonna start working that place as one of the dancers, you got another thing comin'."  He attempted to do an imitation of the Hutchinson point.

For the first time since they'd been called in there, Hutch emitted something like a chuckle.  "No, I don't think your Ramon act would go over very well there.  However, he could give us some pointers on how to behave as a couple while in public."

"There ain't no way I'm acting like a flaming queer!"  Starsky drew back affronted by Hutch's suggestion.

Full laughter burst from the blonde.  "No Starsk.  I don't think we need to go that far, but we want to be as realistic as possible."

"Oh and a cross-dressing, flamboyant, bed-hopping fag is gonna tell us how to act like a loving, gay couple?"  He choked out.

"I figure we shouldn't have to behave any differently, but maybe there's some other little touches we could add."

"Then you think we should let him in on the cover?"

"It wouldn't hurt if we emphasize how our lives depend on his being quiet.  And I'm sure he wants to see this guy brought to justice since it affects his clientele, business, and friends.  Besides, Dobey said to use him as a contact."

Shoulders slumped, Starsky reluctantly agreed.  "Well, should we go beard the lions in their den?"  He nodded his head toward the door.

Sighing deeply and drawing himself up, Hutch pushed away from the table and went to the door.  The cool metal knob shot icicles up his arm as he realized that once they opened the door, their lives would be changed.  Maybe only temporarily; but maybe not.

This can't help but change our partnership, our friendship.  But for the better?

A warm hand grabbed his elbow.  "Let's go babe.  Gotta face 'em sometime."

Together the two stepped out to the hallway.......

........And into the hell of their new reality.

Outside the doorway stood Lee Parkes and his partner Jim Davis, waiting for the two 'newly fired' detectives to leave the room.

"Wonder what took them so long Davis?"  Lee snickered.

"Yeah, they sure were in there for a while after Dobey left 'em alone."

"Hey Starsky, Hutchinson!  Giving each other a little head at the precinct for one last time?  I thought you guys saved the bj's for the shower?"  The two doubled over in laughter.

Starsky jumped from behind Hutch to grab Lee's uniform collar between his fists.

Lee backed away toward the wall, and brought his arms up to disengage Starsky hands.  "Don't touch me, faggot."

"Yeah, there's no telling where those hands have been."  Davis broke in.

"Starsk," Hutch whispered as he pulled his best friend away from Lee before he blew up and assaulted a uniformed officer.  "Come on, let's go."

"Yeah, the sooner we get outta here away from these creeps, the sooner...."

"You can take him home for a little nookie?"  Snarked Lee, not letting up.

Azure blue eyes closed as Starsky attempted to gather himself.  He clenched and unclenched his fists several times.  "Just wait Lee.  You'll be eating those words soon.  Just wait."

"Better than eating something else!"  The other man shot back as Starsky and Hutch began to walk away.

Bracing themselves as they entered the squadroom to clean out their desks, they were surprised to find it empty.  Figuring it was Dobey's doing, they hurried over to gather their belonging before heading to the locker room.

"This isn't fair.  We can't even defend ourselves."  Starsky slammed the files he had gathered together down in a pile.  He reached for the piggybank, but Hutch put his hands on it first.

"Uh, uh.  You start breaking things and you're not gonna stop until you're done.  I know you and your moods.  Besides, this belongs to me too."

The other grumbled under his breath the rest of the time and down the hallway to the lockers.

The locker room was the same.  Quiet and deserted.  Until Sergeant Wyckoff came out of the showers.

Both Starsky and Hutch stopped talking at the sight of the older officer, who glanced at them and then dropped his gaze to the floor.

Two sets of blue eyes met in understanding, Not another one.  Careful Starsk.

"Hey uh, guys.  I, well, I want to wish you the best, wherever you go."  He raised his gaze and began to towel off.  "I don't think it's fair the way the departments treating you.  I know a few gay men and they're good men.  Like you both are."

The salted haired man paused.  "You're good cops, don't let anyone tell you different."  Wykcoff finished his drying and turned to go to his locker several rows away.

Starsky and Hutch looked at each other for a few minutes, stunned by the well wishes of the older cop, then turned to finish packing the contents of their lockers into cardboard boxes.  By the time they were through, Starsky had calmed down considerably and was looking for ways to turn this situation to his advantage.

As they passed down the hallways, most people avoided them, though whispers could be heard.... "I always knew it."  "It's about time."  "They're so obvious."

Watching his partner walk ahead of him, Starsky's heart filled with warmth.  No matter what, he's in everything with me. Always standing by, watching over, protecting me.  Why?  He gave up so much of his own life last year for me.  Now he's willing to give up more to pretend he's my lover.  Why?  Bein' a cop doesn't mean as much to him as it down to me.  Just 'cause I'm his best friend and partner?  Starsky was confused at Hutch's willingness to tempt the fate of their relationship.  Aw Hutch, you know I love you.  And I know you love me.  You don't need to go so far to prove it.

Stopping at the front desk to sign out, Hutch attempted to console his best friend.  "Hey Starsk, it'll all work out."

"I sure hope so, but just in case it doesn't...." he turned to Hutch and right in front of the desk officer planted a wet kiss on his astonished partner's lips.

Putting his arm around Hutch's shoulders, Starsky escorted his stunned partner toward the door.  "Come on babe, I'll take you home and make you feel better."

Behind him he heard guffaws coming from some of the uniforms.  "I'll just bet you will."

Outside, Hutch sputtered at his partner, "What the hell was that...that scene back there all about?"

Starsky shrugged.  "I figured we might as well give 'em a show."  He grinned wickedly over the hood of the Torino.  "And what better way to go out?"

"May I remind you that this is only an assignment?  We will be coming back to work here again, and we'll have to face these people."

"What?  You didn't like my kiss?"

"That's not the point."

"So you did like it then."  The irrepressible grin grew broader.

Hutch rolled his eyes.  "Get in smart ass.  Let's get going."

"So where to lover?"

"Starsky."  The one word spoke volumes of warnings.  "Let's go see Sugar first, then Huggy."

"Green Parrot it is."  Starsky squeezed Hutch's upper thigh in agreement, feeling the leg tense beneath his hand.

Hutch brushed it off.  "Will you stop that!"

"What's'a matter Hutch?  Just practicing.  Better get used to it."

Hutch looked out the windshield.  "I know, just drive," and he pointed forward.

~~*~~

The Parrot hadn't changed much in the three years since John Blaine's murder.  With one exception – Sugar wasn't around to greet Starsky and Hutch.

A taller man with broad shoulders and a thin waist rushed up in prancing steps and beamed at the two new customers.  He was dressed resplendently on a par with Huggy's attire.  Satin green shirt opened to mid chest, bright yellow scarf, bright yellow bell-bottoms.  He held out a thin, alabaster white hand with well-groomed fingernails.  "Hello and Welcome to the Parrot.  I'm Lance, the manager.  And you are?"  Taking his offered digit, they were surprised at the strength behind the thin hand.

"I'm Ken Hutchinson and this is Dave Starsky.  We're old friends of Sugar.  Is she around?"

Lance pouted, "What do you want with Sugar?  I can be your friend instead."  The showy young man lingered over Starsky's handshake, smoothing his fingers over the top of the other man's hand.  "Besides if you were old friends, then you'd know she's no longer here."

The two looked at each other.  "We, uh, haven't been in touch for awhile."  Replied Starsky, gently removing his hand.

"If you just want to reach out and touch someone sexy – try me.  I'm not called Lance for nothing."  An exaggerated wink was thrown towards Starsky, as he reached over and petted the front of the curly haired man's orange shirt.

Hutch stepped between the two.  "Excuse me.  I don't mean to break up this little tète â tète, but can you tell us where Sugar's at?"  He swung a long arm over one Starsky's shoulders.

Lance looked between the two.  "Oh, am I stepping on your toes, sweetie?"  He pointed his finger back and forth.  "You two?"

"Uh, yeah.  We're partners."

"Aw, that's nice,"  He turned abruptly to Hutch, "for you – but not for me.  Anyway, Sugar's no longer in town.  Got a better offer in Reno."

"Well, uh, we should get going then.  We really came to see Sugar.  Hutch?"  His blue eyes pleaded with his partner to rescue him.

"Oh what's your hurry sexy?  Stay and have a drink with me.  I've just the 'lance' for you."  He leered at Starsky.

"I hear ya Starsk.  Nice to have met you, uh, Lance."

Starsky hurriedly walked away from the showy manager, uncomfortable in his presence.

"Likewise."  Lance put his finger on his chin, tapping it as he watched the tight pair of jeans walk away.  He gave Starsky's backside an intent leer.  "Oh yes, very nice."

Outside, Starsky shook his shoulders.  "Man Hutch that guy was creeping me out."

"That's only because he thinks you're nniice."  Hutch retorted, emphasizing Lance's description of Starsky.  Then he reached over and pinched as much of the luscious rear as he could grasp between his thumb and forefinger.

"Yow!  Hey!  What's that for?"

"Just practicing.  Since you're flaunting it..."  Hutch deadpanned as he put his sunglasses on.  "Let's go see Huggy."

"Good.  I can get sometime to eat.  I'm hungry."

"No need to state the obvious; you're always hungry Starsk."

Their ebullient friend broke into a huge grin when Starsky and Hutch walked in and grabbed a table.  Anita headed to take their order, but Huggy waved her off and told her he'd take care of his friends.

He held both hands out in greeting, "My white bread brothers.  Why didn't you come give the Bear your big news yourselves?  You think this bear would be put off?  I had to hear the big news from Big Al."

"News?"  Starsky pulled his sunglasses down to mid nose.

"It's all over the street how you and Curly been doin' the bed shuffle."

"Shit.  Does everyone know now?"  Starsky hooked a foot around Hutch's chair, pulling him closer and swung his arm around Hutch's back, placing his hand on the opposite shoulder.

"Sorry Hug, we uh, we didn't tell anyone.  Thought it was safer that way."

"Hey this is me.  Huggy Bear.  How long we been friends?"

"Huggy we need to tell you..."  Starsky removed his sunglasses, tucking them in his jacket pocket.

The thin man put up his hands and interrupted, "but I can get over that, man.  I'm just tickled pink you two slow pokes finally owned up."

Taken aback, the other two men looked at each other.  "Owned up?"  They asked simultaneously.

"To how much y'all love each other.  I been waitin' for the day."  He motioned for his bartender, who brought over a bottle of 1976 Cabernet Sauvignon.  "Time to celebrate."

"Celebrate!?"  Starsky choked out.  "Huggy, we lost our jobs!"

"So you'll find other gigs.  That's cool.  You'll be safe.  And you won't have to be worryin' 'bout the head honchos splittin' you up.  Or if your brothers in blue will come back you up when you need it.  Better yet, you don't have to hide your feelin's no more.  Tell me," he leaned over the table, "don't it feel good now to come out of closet?  It can be a dark lonely, cold place."

"Huggy, we're hungry.  Can you just take our orders?"

"Sure Blondie, sure.  I just wanted to come over and be the first to congratulate my buds.  What can I get you?"

"Burger and a fry for him," he pointed to Starsky, "and a salad for me."

"You got it.  I'll be back in a flash, so don't you dash, just flip out the cash."  And with a twinkle in his eyes, and a bouncing gait, their good friend went to prepare their meals.

"Starsky, we gotta tell Huggy the truth."

"Aw Hutch, he's so happy.  I don't want to spoil that."

"How do you think he'll feel afterwards when all this is over and he learns the truth?  He'll be more angry that we kept it from him and didn't ask his help."

"How can he help us Hutch?  He may have a few gay friends, but how do we know he has any connections to that community?  We gotta keep quiet about this to as many people as possible so we don't blow our covers."

They debated the situation for a few more minutes, Hutch moving his chair back into place, while Starsky uncorked the wine.

"Okay fine, we'll handle it your way for now," Hutch pointed his finger at his friend, "but if it starts getting out of hand, or we need Huggy's help, I'm telling him the truth."

Pouring the wine as he sees Huggy come over with a food-laden tray, Starsky nodded his agreement.

"This ain't much for celebratin', so's how about you come back over tonight and Huggy'll prepare the best cow on the spit for your dining pleasure.  On the house."

"On the house Hutch.  Can't beat that."

Hutch kicked Starsky under the table.  "It's been a pretty rough day Hug, I think we're gonna stay in tonight."

"Wells how about I bring it by to your place?  Gotta celebrate proper.  I can just see it," Huggy raises his head and starts gesturing with his hands.  "Out in the greenhouse, night sky sparkling, candlelight, my specially prepared steaks and asparagus hollandaise, champagne, New York cheesecake for dessert.  Oh, but you already have your own brand of cheesecake don't you?"  He asked with a face splitting grin.

Hutch spewed the wine he had been drinking across the table and turned beet red at Huggy's implied entendre.

"You okay there Hutch?"  He walked behind the blonde and started patting him on the back.  "You want Starsky to give you mouth-to-mouth?"

"Huggy!"  Hutch warned, finally able to speak.

"What?  Oh I get it," he leaned closer and dropped his voice. "No public displays of affection."  Nodding and holding up his thumb, Huggy left them to finish their lunches.

They finished their meals as quickly as possible and agreed to stop at Starsky's place for a change of clothes, and spend the night at Hutch's.

"For a minute there, I didn't think he was gonna let us go without showing him a kiss."

Hutch rolled his eyes.  "Well, he would've been disappointed."

Starsky put on a fake pout.  "Now I'm hurt.  You don't want to kiss me?"

"Not in public."

Hutch got into the car, leaving Starsky to question to himself what Hutch meant by that.  What's that supposed to mean?  That he wants to kiss me?

~~*~~

Later that evening at Venice Place after Huggy had left, Starsky and Hutch sat on the couch with a glass of champagne and discussed their strategy for the case.

Azure blue eyes looked over at the other occupant on the couch, as Starsky swirled the fluid in his glass.  "Hutch you really think we can pull this off?  I mean it's one thing to be playing around.  It's weirder to be sitting here with you in private and talking about it."

"Sure it'll be, different.  But yeah, I think if anyone can do it – we can."  He was startled to see confusion on Starsky's face.  "Hey.  You're the one who kissed me at the precinct.  If you managed that, I think we can manage a little hand holding or dancing together in public."

"But that was just a joke.  To show up the assholes that can't help but see the negative in how we treat each other."

"You think that kissing me is negative?"

Starsky pondered that for a moment.  "I guess not.  I never really thought about it before."

"Hmmm.  Why don't we do some practicing then."

"Practice kissing!"  Starsky yelped.

A broad grin broke across Hutch's face.  "I meant holding hands and the like.  Get used to it so we feel comfortable doing it in public.  We're gonna have to frequent some of the higher class gay bars and show some affection, so we appear as a loving couple."

Starsky shrugged, "sure, I can do that."

Like a dramatic pause in a serious movie, Hutch reached over and set his large tanned hand on the smaller one set beside him.  Looking down, waiting and watching for Starsky to make the next move.

Without a word, Starsky turned his hand over palm up to grasp the larger hand in his.

Hutch lifted his face to meet Starsky's.  In the other's eyes he saw pure love and joy jolting through the dark blue eyes and into his soul.

The two sat there staring at each other and holding hands for several minutes.

Starsky broke the spell by speaking first, hands still entwined.  "Hey, that wasn't so bad.  Let's try more.  Let's hold each other like couples do."

Arms reached out simultaneously, limbs bumping together as the two tried awkwardly to fit together.  Collapsing together in laughter their foreheads touched.  Hutch tilted his head up and placed a light kiss on Starsky's lips.

"Sorry Starsk.  It was spur of the moment."

The dark head pulled away.  "Mmm.  That's nice Hutch.  I like those spurs.  You kiss nice."

"You want to do it again?"

As an answer Starsky grabbed Hutch's cheeks with both hands, and placed a kiss on the pale rose lips across from him.  As he pulled away, his mouth caught Hutch's upper lip and he gently yanked it as he pulled his head back.

Surprised at the profound emotions overcoming him, Hutch stood up and wiped sweaty palms against his pant legs.

"What's wrong babe?"

"Do you think we should be doing this?"  Hutch waved his hand around.

"What, kissing?  You said we should practice being more intimate."

"But it's one thing to show intimacy in public, it's harder in private."

"What do you mean harder?"

Running his hand through his hair, Hutch shook his worries off.  "I don't know.  I guess I'm just a little worried how this might affect us."

Starsky let Hutch pace for a few minutes.  "I got an idea.  And don't look at me like that.  Why don't we practice dancing.  I'll bet Ramon can still teach you a few things."

Sighing deeply to get his emotions under control, Hutch agreed and turned on the stereo to something upbeat.

First Starsky helped Hutch to loosen up, then once he seemed to be having a good time, Starsky moved to the stereo and put on some slow jazz.  He gathered the tall blonde in his arms.

"Starsky, do you think we're ready for this?"

"It's just dancing babe.  Remember, assignment?"

Swaying to Peaches and Herb's 'Reunited' the two settled into an easy rhythm.

For a short time, Hutch forgot about the underlying motive of their being together, and only thought about the man in his arms.  God how I love him.  He had acknowledged and accepted his feelings for Starsky awhile ago, but refused to act on them in fear of damaging their friendship.   I thought I could handle this cover; now I'm not so sure.  It hurts to hold him like this, knowing it's only pretend.  But I can't help myself.

"You want to spend the night?"

Starsky waggled his eyebrows.  "Am I sleeping on the couch?"

"My bed's big enough for the both of us.  Since we're going to be sleeping together starting next week for a period of time..."  Hutch broke off with a yawn.

"I think it's time to put my big blonde beauty to bed."

Be careful how you say that Starsk.  I may think you mean it.

~~*~~

The bright sunlight flowed through the windows of Hutch's bedroom waking the curly head that was snuggled deeply in between two pillows.  A sleepy arm came up from underneath the blankets to wave away the offending brightness.

"Starsky, come on buddy, get up."

"Rrrr...don wanna.  Go 'way."

Hutch shook the shoulders attached to the waving arm.  "Gotta go see some men about jobs.  Let's go."

"Lemme sleep.  I ain't workin', I wanna sleep in for once."

Hutch let Starsky slumber for a few minutes more watching his bed-mate.  To wake up facing next to Starsky was a wonder he thought he'd never realize.  Withholding the urge to brush his hand across the other man's cheek, instead he ruffled the unruly curls.  "Up and at 'em buddy.  Got your coffee and breakfast ready."

After breakfast, both men checked in at their new places of employment – Starsky at Southside Photography and Hutch at Dean's Greenhouse.  The owners were in on the cover, but no one else.

The two met up together for lunch at The Pits where Huggy asked how their job hunt was going.  He was surprised and glad that both had found job prospects so quickly.

"Man that was quick.  You two must really know people.  Well, it looks like all the planets are falling in line for you two.  New grind, new love,..."

"New apartment."

"New pad?"

"Yeah, me and Hutch decided we wanted a place of our own.  We move next week.  We could use your help Hug if you've got the time."

As if it just occurred to him, Hutch snapped his fingers and thought out loud.  "Hey, I wonder if that's how IA found out about us?"

Starsky nodded once slightly.  Good cover babe.

"Nah, man the way I heard it went down is that two of the fuzz saw you doin' the nasty on a stakeout."

Hutch nearly spewed his mouthful of beer across the table.  He started choking as the image Huggy portrayed flashed through his mind.

"You alright Blintz?"  Starsky reached over and slapped his back several times, then rubbed it with the palm of his hand to sooth the sting.

Shaking off Starsky's back rub, Hutch asked Huggy, "We didn't hear the details, never thought to ask.  Tell us what you heard."

"Just that.  That the two of you were all kissy face and, you know," he waved his hands, "a few nights ago on a stakeout and that you had com-pro-mised the integrity of the po-lice force."

"Shit."  Starsky mumbled, playing with a cocktail napkin.

"Well Starsky, since we're out, maybe we can start going to some of those dance places you love so much."

Damn he's smooth, knows exactly what to say and when, to make this believable.  "Sure babe.  It'll be great to be able to dance together now and not worry about anyone catching us."  He winked at his 'lover'.  "I can't wait to get you in my arms."  Two sets of blue eyes looked deeply into one another.

"Ahem, as much as this thrills me to no end, I do run a respectable establishment.  And since you two can't fix any tickets poor Huggy gets anymore, I would be appreciative if you kept it G-rated while you're gracing my place with your selves."

"Sure Hug, we'll behave.  So what'd ya think Hutch?  Wanna go out dancing tonight?"

"Starsky are you asking me out on a date?"

"Yep.  What'd ya say babe?"  He fluttered his thick, long lashes.

"How about 'Chandeliers'?"

Starsky smiled, "only if you bring me flowers."

"Ain't that a little upscale for Curly?"  Huggy snickered.

Hutch covered Starsky's left hand with his right.  "If this is gonna be our first coming out date, then I want to do it right."

Starsky leaned over and whispered in Hutch's ear so Huggy or no other patron could hear.  "You just want your way with me later."

While both men blushed at Starsky's insinuation, on Hutch's pale skin the redness appeared as if he'd gotten sudden sunburn, the heat from inside his body burning outwards in a show of emotion.  Oh God, how can he tease me like that?  One of these days Starsk, I'm not gonna be able to hold back if you're not careful.

"Mmm hmmm."  Huggy just looked at the two with a knowing smirk.  He didn't need to know what Starsky had said to Hutch to get the gist of the intimate whisper.  "You two want that I should split?"

Chuckling and blushing more, the two pulled away from each other, while Huggy left to prepare their lunch.

~~*~~

'Chandeliers', an upscale gay club, wasn't busy that Wednesday evening since it was the middle of the workweek.  Starsky and Hutch thought that might work to their advantage since they'd stand out more as a couple.

A hostess seated them, handed them menus, and took their drink order.

"Let's dance Hutch."  The dance floor wasn't crowded yet.  A few female couples and a group of five women were dancing together, but Starsky didn't care if they'd be the only males – he wanted to dance.

"Starsky the waitress hasn't even taken our orders yet.  Can't you calm down and wait for a bit."

"I can't help it.  The lure of the music is callin' me."

"Let's just talk for a bit first.  I'll dance a number with you after we place our orders."

"ONE?!  I gotta dance more than that Hutch!"

"Then you'll miss your dinner.  Talk, one dance, eat, then more dancing, okay?"

Torn between his two loves, Starsky picked food – but he wasn't happy and grumbled his displeasure to Hutch, who had the patience to ignore his partner from behind a menu.

Looking around as they waited to place their orders, Starsky asked Hutch if he thought any of the other patrons looked suspicious.

"Suspicious how?  I don't think our guy's gonna go around wearing an 'I Hate Gays' t-shirt, especially in a place like this."

"No, I meant paying extra attention to any male couples."

"This is the one place that Gille and Andrews – the activists from Venice – frequented."

"Yeah, so?"

"Starsk, the first couple were exclusive to the 'Rainbow Room', the last two this place, and the other two victims didn't have a favorite bar or club.  They frequented several places including the Parrot."

Starsky put his arms out.  "Yeah, so?"  He repeated.

"So.  I think it's highly unlikely the guy is here tonight.  He's probably looking for his next victims somewhere else."

"So why are we here then?"

"Because it's a nice place with good food and music."  And because I wanted to take you someplace nice and treat you special.  "And somewhere out of our district where we can get a little practice in as a couple."

But Hutch was wrong...

At the bar, while talking to friends, a tall brown-haired man eyed the dance floor and surrounding tables for his next victims. He knew it was a risk to choose his victims from the same place twice, but for committed gay couples, there weren't many upstanding places they could go to celebrate their love in the open.

The two undercover detectives got up to dance one fast dance until they sat down to eat.  After a light dinner of chicken pasta primavera and steamed broccoli, they relaxed over a drink and discussed more strategy for their cover.

As the conversation died out, Hutch watched his best-friend as Starsky stared out onto the dance floor tapping his hand on his thigh.  A song from almost a decade ago came over the speakers, seeming to speak Hutch's mind for him.

I don't know what I'm up against.
 

I don't know what it's all about.
 

I got so much to think about.
 

Hey, I think I love you,
 

so what am I so afraid of?
 

Afraid that I'm not sure of
 

a love there is no cure for.

Hutch blanched and looked away, fearing that his emotions were too close to the surface upon hearing that song.  He didn't want to give away anything he was feeling to Starsky.

"Hey Hutch let's go dance."  Starsky had been sitting long enough, he wanted to get up and move.  He stood up and grasped Hutch's hand, pulling the taller man up onto his feet.

Several other male couples now joined them on the floor, so Hutch didn't feel as conspicuous, and felt more at ease dancing with the man he secretly loved.

Admiring his partner as he relaxed, Starsky was amazed how elegant and attractive he found Hutch.  The tall, lean body dressed in a yellow satin shirt and white pants.  Longish hair shone like moonlight under the lights, blue eyes creased in laughter and joy, Starsky knew he was drawing the admiring glances of the other patrons.  He wasn't surprised when one of them, a man of Hutch's height with soft brown hair and eyes, tried to break in for a dance.

Starsky put the man off behind a knowing smile and a firm grip of Hutch's waist, while his blonde partner stood dazed next to him.  "Hutch, shake it off," he whispered as he twirled Hutch around the dance floor.

After three fast dances, Rod Stewart's 'Tonight's the Night' began playing.  Starsky gathered Hutch into his arms before the blonde could bolt, draping his arms over the broad shoulders and clasping his hands together.

Tucking heads together, their bodies fit comfortably against each other.

Hutch closed his eyes, as he swayed with Starsky, his warm breath whispering through the dark curls that brushed his cheek.  Slowly Hutch pulled his head away until his lips touched Starsky's cheek with a light graze, like a bird flying through a cloud.

Going by instinct, Starsky tilted his head to meet those soft, full lips with his own.  Gentle pressure, soft tickles, moist folds of flesh meeting in unmitigated desire.

Lost in said desire, Hutch deepened the kiss by demanding entry into the moist crevice beneath his.  Tongues touching, tentatively learning the other's mouth.  Slowly the swaying between the two stopped as Hutch's hands moved into the curled head and held it steadily while he took all that he had dreamed of.

From the sidelines, the watchful man studied the blonde and dark haired men deeply kissing on the dance floor surrounded by twinkling lights, seductive music, and admiring couples.  He had already chosen his next victims, but they deviated from their usual pattern and didn't appear at 'Chandeliers' this night.  Perhaps the two drawing the attention of the other patrons were deserving of his attention.  He'd cover his bases and learn about both couples before making his decision who were to be his next victims.

Watching the two men on the dance floor attracting all that attention made him angry.  Why them?  What's so special about them?  Why not me?

Just as the song faded, Starsky gathered himself and pulled out of his partner's arms; worry and shock evident on his face.  What did I just do?  What did Hutch just do?  Why'd he kiss me like that?  Why'd I kiss him back?  There was no denying to himself how his body reacted to the kiss.  Well, of course I'm gonna get turned on a little by that kiss.  I mean Hutch is a hell of a kisser and gorgeous to boot.  And I haven't been laid in so long.  Still, he was a little shocked and dismayed at himself.

Seeing that look, Hutch's heart, which had been soaring, fell.

"Hutch, what the hell just happened out there?"

"I, uh, I need some air."  He raced from the club to collect himself, try to figure out how to explain himself, and to cool his burgeoning groin.

Once outside, he began pacing back and forth in front of the establishment.  How could I let myself get this out of hand?  What was I thinking?  What do I tell Starsky?  He ran a hand up through his long hair as he agonized over these questions.  He spent more than five minutes outside as he cooled his lust-filled body down and pondered these questions.  Stop acting like a coward Hutchinson.  Go in and face your best-friend like a man.  Apologize and hope for the best.

When Hutch walked back into the club, Starsky was up at the bar with two beers in hand chatting with a young man with spiked dyed auburn hair.  Seeing his partner walk back in out of the corner of his eye, he finished up the brief conversation with the young man and took their beers back to the table.

"I got you another beer.  Thought you might need it."  He held out the bottle to his flustered friend.  "Hutch?  You okay?"  A short nod.  "Then sit down."

"Who was that at the bar?"

"Oh, just some kid.  Saw you leave, was hoping we had a fight and thought he could cut in. I told him you felt sick for a moment."

"Oh."  Hutch still hadn't looked at Starsky, wondering why his best friend wasn't railing at him for the faux pas he had made on the dance floor.

"Hutch.  Look at me."  The fair head slowly raised, but he didn't look Starsky in the eye.  "What happened out there?  What was that all about buddy?"

"I'm sorry Starsk, I guess I got carried away.  The music, the lighting, the role..."

"Hey, I got carried away too.  You might've kissed me first, but I sure wasn't fighting it."

"Starsky, please.  This was all my fault.  I wasn't thinking."

"Since when?  You always think things through, more than once.  You analyze shit so much shrinks come to you for advice."

Hutch dipped his head, he didn't know what to say.  "I'm sorry Starsk.  I hope I didn't ruin anything with you."

"You worried me there for a minute buddy.  I wasn't sure what was going on between us.  But it's okay, we'll just forget it and go on."

Ah, Starsky, if only I could.

Meanwhile, the watchful man removed himself from the corner he had been hiding in and went back to his friends at the bar.  He asked his young red-haired friend what kind of information he had gotten out of the curly haired man while he ordered his drinks.  His young friend told him that he couldn't persuade the other man out onto the dance floor because his partner would get jealous, and that the reason the blonde had left was he felt sick.

Watching them interact now and seeing the pale, drawn face of the blonde, the killer believed the story his young friend was told.

"Do you think you could handle one more turn on the dance floor Hutch?"

"Do you think you could trust me not to make a move on you, Starsk?"  The other retorted back.

An irrepressible grin broke Starsky's face.  "I think I can trust you buddy.  I also think I wanna dance some more."

Sighing deeply, knowing there was no way out of it, especially when Starsky turned on the charm, Hutch got up.  "As long as it's an upbeat tempo."  I don't think I can handle slow dancing with you right now, babe.

This time Hutch couldn't relax and Starsky didn't want to dance with a stiff, clumsy partner.  He didn't want to dance with anyone else either, so he gave up and suggested they go home for the evening.  "And since we're supposed to be a couple, I'll just spend the night over at your place tonight again.  Tomorrow we can stay at mine."

"If you think it's safe; but maybe we shouldn't sleep in the same bed.  We should alternate on the couch."

"Why buddy?  I don't think you'll forget again who you're with and jump me.  Besides, we've slept together before and had no problems.  I kinda like sleeping beside you.  Keeps the nightmares away."

No, Starsky, I won't forget who I'm sleeping beside.  That's the problem.  Hutch's eyes were haunted and filled with worry, but he kept his thoughts to himself for the rest of the evening.

The brown-haired man followed the blonde and brunette out and watched as they got into the flashy red sportscar.  Following at a distance behind the splashy car, he watched as they exited and entered a shell pink building with the name Venice Place.  He grabbed his camera and took several pictures of the building and the red car.

Several days later he had composites of both sets of men he considered for his next victims.

The first couple was in their mid-40s, a lawyer and a nurse.  The second couple was far more interesting in his opinion.  Mid 30s, a couple for about 10 years, and ex-cops.  Fired when the city found out about them.  They would be the more challenging to trail.  He would get a kick out of killing ex-cops.

~~*~~

Saturday morning Hutch woke up as he had the last few mornings, with a sense of cold; even though Starsky was next to him providing warmth and the heat of the summer sun.  Nothing more had been said about the passionate kiss he had initiated several days before.  Nothing more had happened, though Hutch found it harder and harder to sleep next to his partner and best-friend and withhold his feelings.

Today was moving day to their "new" apartment.  Most of the furnishings would remain; they would only take personal items, clothing, and a few of Hutch's plants, as most everything else – including dishes and linen – would be fitted at the apartment the Dobey had obtained for them.

Huggy was going to help them and then they would spend the evening at The Pits 'celebrating' with their friend.

They spent the weekend fixing up the apartment and hanging out with their friends, playing basketball, going to the beach, watching old movies.  Come Monday, they would start their new 'jobs' and begin a normal Mon-Fri work schedule.

Huggy loved the new place – it was about the same size as Starsky's, but he was unsure why they kept their old places if they were making this step together.

"In case in don't work out Hug.  We might not be able to stand each other."

"Shhiit, if the two a'you could work together for 14 hours ya'll can deal with living together.  Not to mention them days long stakeouts.  'Course I guess you had your mind's on other things during them stakeouts."  He replied with a grin that went from end to end of his face.

By Monday, Starsky was antsy about going out again.  He wanted to celebrate their new jobs.  Hutch, fearing that Starsky wanted to go dancing, opted to stay in and bask in the warmth of the company of his 'lover'.  He got off work earlier than Starsky, so he planned a candlelight dinner consisting of The Paul Muni 'Special'.

"Come on Hutch, we've only been out twice and once you didn't dance with me at all.  You gotta get over this buddy."

"Get over what?"

"The...kissing thing.  We're meeting with Simmons and Babcock on Thursday at lunch, and they're gonna want to know what kind of progress we made.  We're supposed to start ingratiating ourselves in the community and we haven't exactly done that."

"Okay, Starsk.  Tomorrow, I promise.  Tonight I made this nice meal and planned on having a quiet evening at home."

"I'm gonna hold you to that buddy."

Hutch rolled his eyes.  "I'm sure you will."

Rubbing his hands together in anticipation of both the delicious meal before him and the prospect of going dancing the following night, Starsky decided not to bring up the subject of their dancing together until later, when both of them were full and content.  He wanted more practice with Hutch in his arms.  Who are you foolin', you just want more of Hutch in your arms – period David Starsky.  Damn!  Where'd that thought come from?  Starsky shook it off and dove into his meal.  "Since you cooked, I'll clean up.  Deal?"

Originally Hutch thought that Starsky doing the dinner clean-up was a good thing, but after watching him swaying and 'singing' to the little counter radio dressed in nothing but jeans and a bare chest, Hutch knew he had to remove himself from the kitchen.

The full ass twitching and jiggling in tight jeans, the ripples of muscles in his back and arms, the thick head of curls catching the overhead lights showing auburn highlights, the delight of Starsky's personality; all these things were playing havoc on Hutch's sensibilities.

He couldn't take it anymore.  "Starsky, go put a shirt on."

"Huh?"  He turned around to Hutch, wondering where the unusual question came from; it wasn't like they hadn't seen each other partially nude before.

"I mean, you might catch a cold or something."

"I'm fine Hutch.  Don't want to get my shirt wet."

"Getting your ratty old t-shirts wet might make them look better."

"No more than getting your car washed will make it appear less than a piece of junk."

Hutch removed himself from the kitchen and went into their large bedroom to sit at the desk he brought from Venice Place to write out some bills.  Anything to get away from the sensation of pure Starsky.

After a quick meal of pizza and salad on Tuesday, Starsky and Hutch decided to go for drinks – and hopefully some dancing - at 'Attics', a gay bar in West Los Angeles.

Before he was finished with one beer, the lure of the music called to Starsky.  "Let's go Hutch, I don't wanna hear no excuses.  You promised me dancing, and there's lots of people of the floor so you won't stand out."

"All right, but no bumping.  I hate that so-called dance."

The two men danced to a few upbeat songs, but Hutch refused – either consciously or not – to relax.  Starsky decided the only way to get their cover back on track was another slow dance.  Hutch needed to overcome his fear and worry of the other night.

As the dj started a slower song, Hutch started to leave the dance floor.  Starsky grabbed his wrist and pulled his partner around to face him.  "Hutch, you're gonna dance this dance with me.  You gotta get over what happened the other night or we're never gonna pull this off."

Glaring at Starsky and scowling, he reluctantly set his hands on Starsky's waist, keeping their bodies at a reasonable distance.

"Lighten up Hutch, it's only dancing, not making love."

Making love?!  Why did you say that Starsk?  Was it at the forefront of your mind?  If so – why?  Do you regret this assignment; that you can't go pick up a nice female for company?  If anything Starsky's little speech made Hutch more nervous and self-conscious.

The body in his arms stiffened as Starsky tried to relax Hutch with a low, husky voice.  "Go with the flow Blondie. Close your eyes and sway to the music.  Relax.  It's just me babe.  Trust me."

Starsky felt a tap on his right shoulder.  "Excuse me, can I cut in?"  He half-turned with Hutch still in his arms to see an older man with brown hair and graying temples wearing a suit.  He addressed himself to Hutch, "My name's Bob.  I noted how uncomfortable you seem to be with your companion here, and thought maybe you'd feel more relaxed in my arms."

"Sorry pal.  This here's my gal."  Starsky then twirled Hutch around and dipped him, holding him halfway to the floor with an astonished look on his face.  "Ain'tcha babe?"

"I am not your gal!"  Hutch growled through clenched teeth.  "Let me up and stop that!"  His feet struggled to find purchase on the wooden dance floor.  But when he rose up, he made no move to leave Starsky on the floor by himself, instead he said 'thank you, but not interested' to the older man still hopeful for a chance with the blonde, and folded his partner into his arms, and continuing to sway to the soft whispered music and the flickering lights around them.

Wednesday they went back to 'Chandeliers', making it a point to hit three different bars or clubs a week.  Thursday they had plans to meet with Simmons and Babcock at lunch, figuring if the murderer decided to trace their steps, leaving at lunchtime from separate places in separate cabs would be a better disguise than leaving their apartment one at a time.  Unfortunately they had no news for the two 'official' detectives on the case, other than the individuals who had tried to pick them up.  No one had attempted to introduce themselves or wondered about the two new patrons.  Without Sugar to put the word out into the gay community, they would have to do it themselves, and it would be a time staking process.

Friday, they made it a point to stop at Huggy's for some normalcy.  This Friday Huggy had some news for them.

"Hey, I don't mind you tellin' your new fangled fancy friends 'bout Huggy's chill and grill, but please," Huggy put up his hands in surrender, "tell 'em that Huggy definitely don't walk that side of the street."

"What're you talking about Huggy?  What friends?"

"That fancy pants Lance from over at the Parrot.  Says he knows you two cats from there."

Starsky rolled his eyes, "We don't know him.  He took over for Sugar, we just met him once."

"Well he knows you, he's been browsing the streets trying to find you and somebody put him in touch with me.  Says he's got info for you."

Two blue eyes met and spoke across the table. Information?  Interesting.

"He seemed very interested in you, Curly.  But then he took one glance at ol' Huggy lookin' mighty fine and gaped at me like I was the topping on his dessert.  See, it's not only the ladies that think I dress sharp.  And everyone knows that gay men know all about fashion.  Well, except you Starsky."

Hutch grinned and tried to withhold a laugh, but wasn't completely successful.  His partner just glared at him.  "Just give us a beer Hug, we'll be over at the pool table."

"So why'd you think Lance is looking for us?"  Asked Starsky as he pulled down several cues and tested their weight.

"Good question.  No one know about – well, you know.  Possibly he's heard something about the murders and knowing we're former cops, he figures he can pass information to us without going directly to any 'real' cops."

"Yeah, considering we are infamous now."

"We could go over there tomorrow, check it out."  Hutch leaned on his cue stick and gazed over the table.  "Check out some of the regulars too.  See if Nick's still hanging out there."

"Tomorrow it is.  Are you gonna rack 'em up or talk, Blintz?"

"Oh, sorry."  And Hutch proceeded to place the cue balls in the triangle.  Once finished, he stepped back and continued his line of thought.  "Of course, he could be setting us up.  You'll have to be careful."

"Me?  What about you?  You're coming with me Hutch."

"Yeah, but I only have to be cute."  He fluttered his eyelashes and swayed his shoulders.

"Can it ya big lug."  And with that, Starsky pulled his arm back and broke the rack.

"Hey!  Who said you could break?"

"Well, if you'd stop preening and talking, you could'a had your chance.  You lose."

~~*~~

The end of their first week at their new 'jobs' passed successfully.  Both men were offered real positions by the owners in the event they wanted to leave police work.

"Well, I guess it's better than the porn studio offer we got last time we were off."  Starsky said as they reviewed their work week on the way to the 'Green Parrot' to see Lance.

The blonde laughed at the reference in the seat beside him.

When they walked into the 'Green Parrot', the two men didn't see either Lance or Nick.  It was almost 9:00 on a Friday and the place was already jumping.  There was a couple on stage performing a Vaudeville-like routine, but whether they were both men or a man and woman was impossible to tell.

They walked up to the bar, ordered a beer and looked around at the clientele.  Neither the place nor the people had changed much in the two years since they had chased down John Blaine's killer.

Coming beside them they heard the tap-tap-tap of someone running with heeled shoes.  "Oooohhh.  It's my new friends.  Come to play with Lance dark and handsome?"  The bar manager fluttered his eyelashes at Starsky.

Hutch choked back a smile behind his beer.

"Lance?"  This was the first time they had seen Lance dressed in female attire.  They didn't even realize he promoted himself as a cross-dresser.

Twirling around in a tight hippie chick dress with fringe that extended from the top of his thighs to almost the knees, he giggled.  "I make a mean Twiggy don't I?"  His brown hair was covered by a short blonde bobbed wig and he wore fake eyelashes and lots of bangles on his arms.  "Stay for the rest of the show?  I've got something for you, but I need to get ready for the next part.  We do a version of 'Laugh-In'.  I play Goldie and Tommy Smothers."  Lance practically skipped away, his feet barely leaving the floor.

"I thought you only had eyes for Huggy Bear?"

Sighing dramatically, Lance put his splayed fingers up to his chest.  "Yes, but unfortunately he assures me that he doesn't swing the right way.  However, you" and he pointed a slim finger into Starsky's chest, "could be just the man for me if only this Golden God didn't stand in the way."  He sighed again.

"What is it about this place that makes grown men want to dress like women?"

Hutch just shook his head.  "I don't know, but I don't think I want to spend too much time here."

Much to the two men's surprise, the evening was fun and relaxing.  The comedy was enjoyable and Lance made an energetic Goldie Hawn and did a surprisingly dead-on impersonation of Tommy Smothers.  There were three other people that helped complete the skits, and the audience ate it all up.  Boisterous applause filled the bar when the troupe finished their routines.

Starsky and Hutch had another beer while waiting for Lance, who didn't keep them long.

This time he was dressed in regular street clothes as when they first met him.  He came bustling out waving a piece of paper in his hands.  "Here it is boys.  Just what you were asking for."

"And what were we asking for?"  Hutch asked as he grabbed the flipping paper from Lance's fingers.  He looked at it.  "Lance, this is an address."

The brown head nodded.  "Yep.  That's Sugar's address in Reno.  I called her and she gave me permission to give it to you.  I also told her about you two, and she's tickled pink.  Wants to know when the wedding will be and said she's willing to perform.  You lucky dogs.  She doesn't perform for just anyone you know."  He nodded knowingly.

"Wedding?"  Starsky spit his beer out.  "What wedding?"

"Yours!  Sugar said it's about time you two came out.  She knew about you long ago.  Naughty boys, hiding those lumscious bodies to keep for yourselves.  Ah, but that's love I guess."  He sighed wistfully.  "Of course, I can help you get it all put together.  I've done it for several guys."

"Um, we don't know...I mean, I don't think we're gonna have any, uh, ceremony."  Hutch tried to cover for Starsky's still gaping jaw.

Lance threw his arms out.  "And why not?  I mean when two boys like you love each other and since you've been together for so long.  Well, you just gotta celebrate that love!"

"Well, if we do, we have a good friend who's put together some big parties.  No, offense, but he's been our best-friend for a long time and would be put out if we didn't take advantage of his services."

"Oh yes, the beautiful black Bear.  I still think he's missing something special here."  Lance waved his arms lengthwise down his body.

Another choke came out of Starsky, and Hutch reached behind him to pound lightly on his back to help get him breathing right again.  "Thanks Lance, we'll give Sugar a line."

~~*~~

The next week they kept the same routine:  Sunday and Monday stay home, Tuesday and Wednesday out to bars, Thursday meet with Simmons and Babcock at lunch, dinner at The Pits, Friday and Saturday more bars or dance clubs.  Now that they were becoming regulars on the gay club circuit, more people were coming up and introducing themselves.  As they got to meet new people, they would gently steer the conversation toward crimes committed in the gay community, hoping that someone would volunteer information about the murders.

It was becoming harder and harder for Hutch to lie next to Starsky every night and not be tempted.  Each night they went to sleep on separate sides, but somehow ended up in the middle of the large bed face to face.  Hutch was glad he woke up first.  It gave him time to gaze upon that heart-shaped face and funny nose; he smoothed his thumb each morning over the mole on Starsky's cheek, gently circling it and then tracing upward to the corner of his eyebrow, letting the back of his fingers drop down the temple and side of Starsky's face.  The gestures had become a ritual, needed as much as his morning run.

The urge to kiss those sweet lips each morning was becoming overwhelming.  But Hutch had always controlled his urge, knowing that such a show of affection would probably awaken and alarm Starsky; especially after the way Hutch went after him on the dance floor a week and a half ago.  Instead he had to be comforted by what he had:  Occasional touches, a compassionate shoulder, the best friend anyone could ask for, and for now being able to hold Starsky in his arms.

Maybe, just a little kiss wouldn't hurt.  His heart demanded it and finally the heart won over his brain.

Hearing a hum of approval coming from the man beneath him, Hutch froze.  I knew it!  I knew I shouldn't have taken the chance.  But Starsky didn't awaken, his eyes moved beneath his eyelids in dream and he shifted slightly to snuggle closer to Hutch's warm body.

Hutch knew this assignment had to end soon or things were going to come to a head.  Oh, bad pun Hutchinson.  Tonight was Thursday and they'd be going to The Pits for dinner and some 'off-time'.  He needed a little normalcy in his suddenly chaotic world.  Hopefully something would break in the case soon and they'd get a lead they could work with.

Huggy greeted them with warmth and enthusiasm despite The Pits being busy that Thursday evening.

"My white brothers!  I been chompin' at the bit for ya'll to come see me.  The grapevine says a certain dark and light duo are gettin hitched up and ya'll want yours truly to plan it."  He beamed and bowed with verve

"MARRIED!"  Both men shouted at once.

"Yeah, your fancy friend Lance told me that he offered to do a wedding for you two and that you said you wanted moi" he planted his hands on his chest "to handle it."

Hutch dropped his head and shook it.  "Oh my God, this is getting out of hand."  He looked up at Huggy "Lance misunderstood Hug."

"What?  I'm not good enough?  Your old amigo Huggy Bear Brown?"

"No, it's not that.  You'd be the first person we'd go to if we were planning a wedding.  That's what we told him."

Starsky put his arm across Hutch's chest.  "Hold on Hutch.  Maybe we should do this."

Shocked and with light blue eyes widened, Hutch jerked his head in Starsky's direction.  "Huh?  Tell me I'm not hearing things?"

But Starsky had turned back to Huggy and the two started reviewing what kind of a ceremony would be appropriate.  Discussing music, food, location, and other pertinent items.

"I gotta write all this down.  Why don't I come over Saturday afternoon and we'll pull together the hottest gay wedding LA has ever seen!  Oh and flowers?  Are ya gonna want flowers?"

"I don't think so.  What do you think Hutch?"

"What I think is that this conversation is crazy!"

The smiled dropped from Huggy's face upon seeing the pale one across from him get red with anger.  "I'll...oh look, table seven is in need of my services."  And their proprietor friend hurried away to avoid the upcoming confrontation.

"Starsky, what the hell do you think you're doing?!  We're undercover, not under the sheets!"  Hutch ground out through clenched teeth.

"Just blow our cover Hutch why don't you?"  He looked around to see if anyone was paying attention.  "We'll talk about it at home."

"Damn right we will."

The rest of dinner passed in tension.  Hutch wasn't up to playing any pool or anything else, and Starsky wasn't up to getting into an argument with him.  Huggy sensed the tension between the two and avoided the table for most of the evening.  He knew they'd get over it.  They always did.  Once, when Hutch stepped away to the men's room, he approached Starsky with care.

"Hutchie in one of his moods again?"

"You know how the Blintz gets.  It's not worth reasoning with him when he's like this."

"I'm glad it's you getting' hitched to him and not me.  I couldn't deal with all that glowering all the time.  Whewie, I can imagine what he must be like when he gets up like that in the morning."

"Aw, he'll settle down Hug.  He wouldn't be Hutch without his moods."

"I guess."  Huggy looked dubious as the sullen blonde came back into the main bar.

All the way home Hutch refused to talk or even look at his partner.  He huddled next to the passenger door and pressed himself against it, wishing he could disappear into the vinyl.  The interior of the car was as dark as the mood that permeated from the passenger's seat.  Not even the passing streetlights could break through the gloom.

Once inside their apartment with the door closed, however, Hutch let loose.  "Okay, you want to tell me what all that crap was about at Huggy's?"

"Hutch, calm down."  Starsky stepped closer, hoping to soothe his partner, but Hutch refused to let him close; he stepped backwards toward the door.  "I think you're over reacting."

"Over...over reacting!?  You just told our best-friend that he could go ahead and plan a wedding!  A wedding!  For us!  Starsky, I can't go along with it.  I just...I can't."

"Well why not Hutch?  It'll be fun and make up to Huggy for not tell him about us in the first place."  He toed off his shoes and walked away toward their bedroom.

Hutch followed behind him, not wanting to let Starsky to get the last word.

"Starsky – there is no us!"

"That's because you won't admit it to yourself."

"Admit what?"

"That you want there to be an us.  You're afraid Hutch, of taking that next step."

He was stunned.  Starsky knows!  How do I get out of this mess?  "Look Starsk, okay, I admit that a couple of times it crossed my mind.  But I know it can't be."

"Why not?  Don't you want me?  And don't lie to me Hutch, I know when you're lying."

Hutch groaned and turned away.  Not want you?  Starsky I want you so bad I'm afraid of you, of what you do to me.

"Hutch, look at me."  He grabbed the other man's upper arm and turned him around, grasping both shoulders.  "The last few weeks being with you has been nice.  No, more than nice.  For you too.  You kissed me – twice.  Don't think I don't know about that little kiss in bed this morning."

Crystal blue eyes widened.  "You mean...you were awake!"

Chuckling, Starsky grinned.  "I've been awake before you every morning, but then I usually fall back asleep after you get up and run.  I didn't want to miss lying next to you by being asleep.  And what would've I missed?  Every morning you touching my face, like a caress.  It's nice to be loved like that."

"But Starsky, this is just an assignment.  A cover.  Once we catch this guy, things'll have to go back to normal.  I just don't think we should tempt fate or our working relationship."

"Who says they have to go back?  And what's normal anyway?"

"You didn't even want this assignment until Dobey forced it on us."

Starsky stuffed his hands into his jean's pockets and scuffed his toe on the carpeting.  "Yeah, well, what did I know?  I was wrong.  I'm glad for it; it made me realize how good it felt to be with you like that."  He raised his head and his deep piercing eyes cut into the startled blue eyes before him.  "And now I want it for real, not just for pretend."

"Starsk, don't...don't say that just because you think it's something I want to hear."

"Hutch, do you think I'd ever do anything like that to you?  To us?"  He reached out and touched Hutch's upper arm, trailing his hand up and down soothingly.  "I think...no, I know that you're the only one for me.  I love you, babe.  I think I always have, but it took me awhile to figure out how much and what it meant."  He leaned over and kissed Hutch lightly on the lips.  "Now how about you telling me?"

"You know I love you Starsk, but..."

"Don't 'but' me Hutchinson."  Starsky poked his finger to Hutch's shoulder.  "You know you want it too.  Us, together."  He moved his hand down Hutch's chest, gently fingering the buttons on his plaid shirt.  Lowering his voice seductively he continued, "Do you know what that kiss did to me?  The one you gave me on the dance floor?"

Hutch ran his hand through his hair and over his face.  "Starsky, this can't happen.  We were already 'fired' because of our so-called relationship.  What do you think would happen if it became true?"

"This is me you're talking to.  Since when do you think I care what others think?  Besides, what they don't know can't hurt 'em.  And unless you're planning on telling..."  He reached up with his hand and smoothed Hutch's neck upward toward his cheek.

Groaning, Hutch leaned into the caress and closed his eyes.  This was what he'd dreamed of, desired, for many months now.  What are you afraid of Hutchinson?  Isn't this what you've wanted?  Shutting his inner voice up, he grabbed Starsky's wrists and pulled him close, letting his hunger take over his body's actions.  His tongue dived into Starsky's waiting mouth, taking advantage of the other's submission.

Beneath Hutch, Starsky melted into the kiss and accepted Hutch's tongue and let him lead.  He was wrapped in Hutch's long arms like a blanket, feeling comforted and warmed.  It was as if Hutch had reached inside and touched his heart and now held it safe and secure in his hands.

Moving his lips away from Starsky reluctantly, Hutch journeyed across his face to Starsky's neck where he nestled beneath the curls and suckled his way up to his earlobe.  His warm breath whispered across Starsky's ear, "Starsk...I've, I've wanted this – you.  I love you."

With great difficulty Starsky put his hands up to Hutch's chest and gently pushed.  "Hutch...Hutch, wait."

Hutch stepped away, dazed by the emotions running through him.  Lust, love, excitement, and fear that Starsky really didn't mean what he said.  That when confronted by Hutch's passion, he couldn't handle it.

"I'm sorry Starsk.  I shouldn't have.  I knew how you felt to begin with, and I took advantage of a moment of weakness."

Shaking his curls, Starsky tried to correct Hutch.  "No, Hutch, no.  You're making me crazy.  I feel like I'm gonna melt 'cause you're making me so hot."

Tense face relaxing, Hutch brought his thumb to Starsky's lips and gently traced the corner.  "Let's see how hot I can make one David Michael Starsky."  He pulled Starsky to press full against his body and gathered the sweet face in his palms, bending down to take more of those lips.

While his lips were busy stealing Starsky's breath, Hutch's hands moved down to his shoulders, then lightly rubbed up and down his arms, eventually resting on his stomach, just above his pant line.  Slowly Hutch pulled Starsky's t-shirt from his pants and stole his way up his abdomen and torso.  At the same time, his lips moved all over Starsky's face, lightly kissing each inch.

Starsky's eyes were closed and his face upturned, a blissful look on it, as Hutch took control of his mind and body.

"I love you Starsky.  I love everything about you.  Your imagination, your curls, your joie de vivre, your ass, your impulsiveness, even your scars."

As he said the last, Hutch brushed his hands upward and across Starsky's nipples, causing the other to humm as shivers of desire coursed up his arms, down his torso, and into his groin.  "Hutch..."  his voice came out as a heady whisper, which made Hutch's cock twitch in excitement.

"Let's move somewhere more comfortable."

"The bed?"  Starsky asked hopefully, as he ran his hand up Hutch's torso, feeling the hard nubs beneath the shirt.

Hutch looked deeply into the wide blue eyes, pupils large and dark in passion.  "You sure?"

"Oh yeah, babe.  I'm sure."  He began unbuttoning Hutch's plaid shirt.  "Why don't we get this off.  I want my hands all over that smooth chest of yours."

"No more than I want mine on yours."  Hutch replied as he shook his arms out of his sleeves and reached to pull Starsky's  t-shirt over his head.

This time when Hutch's lips met his own, Starsky could feel the hunger behind the kiss.  A hunger that matches my own.  The thought didn't surprise him as  much as he thought it would, but rather suffused his body with warmth, just as the tongue that petted his own warmed his mouth.

Somehow they made it to the bed.  As Hutch's calves hit the frame he fell down into a sitting position on the edge.  Starsky ran his hands over the smooth shoulders and pushed him backward, climbing over and next to him, so they lay flush together.

Long fingers traced over the scars on Starsky's chest, outlining each one with such tenderness that he thought his heart would burst.  The soft flesh beneath those fingers trembled and Hutch stopped his exploration and started to pull his hands away.

Starsky grabbed them to keep them where they lay.  "They don't hurt no more Hutch."

In response, the blonde head bent down and his tongue replaced his fingers in outlining the whitened scars.

Starsky reached up to the blonde head, and entwined the long strands in his fingers as he held the beloved head close to his heart.

Hutch's tongue circled the delicate nipples as his hands rubbed up and down Starsky's side to soothe the trembling body beneath him.  He laid his ear next to the beating chest, the rapid thump of Starsky's heartbeats; assuring him of his partner's vitality, life, and equal yearning for completion.  The sound brought tears to the light blue eyes.

When the mouth and hands had stopped their delicious teasing and instead a warm drop of liquid ran down Starsky's side to nestle onto the pale yellow blanket beneath him, he looked down at the blonde head splayed across his chest.  "Hutch?  What's wrong babe?"

"Nothing, Starsk."

"Then why the tears?"

"Because everything's too perfect.  I'm afraid this will all vanish."

Turning onto his side, and pulling his partner up, Starsky lifted Hutch's chin and looked into the bright teary eyes.  "Never Hutch.  I told you – this is for real.  You and me.  As long as we want it."

Gently Hutch kissed Starsky's lips.  "I love you Starsky."

"It's been an exhausting evening.  Why don't we just lie here and get some rest?  I want to wake up tomorrow holding you in my arms."

Soon nothing could be heard in the shadowed room except the deep sighing of sleep.  Two sets of legs tangled so it was hard to decipher where one ended and the other began.  Fingers and hands joined together as a silent pledge of oneness – of me and thee.

~*~

To get into their apartment and learn the layout, the killer dressed as a Federal Express employee with the pretense of delivery a package to Starsky and Hutch's new apartment.  Showing his false id, the building manager let him into the complex Friday afternoon while both were working.

After putting on thin gloves, he waited in the hallway for the security camera to move away from the doorway of apartment 704.  Then he took his lock pick and quickly and quietly opened the door, slipping in stealthily and closing it gently behind him.  He knew by their schedules that the blonde always came home first, and hewasn't due to return home from work for several hours.

Walking through the apartment, the killer picked up a few items and handled them to get a better impression on the men that lived there.  Everything was neat and orderly, even the bedding.  Plants were everywhere, not unexpected since the blonde guy worked at greenhouse.

This building didn't have balconies, but there was a large double window by the dinette area.  Looking out the window, he noted a telephone pole in the middle of the parking lot just outside.  That would make a good watch post.  He'd get his telephone employee disguise and set up a post.

Opening the apartment door slightly and peering out, the intruder saw no one in the hallway.  As he checked to verify the door lock was in position and prepared to slip out, a doorway across the hall and to the right opened; a middle-aged man stepping out.  In panic, he rushed out the door, his hand brushing a small planter on a pedestal next to the door, it tipping over to spill soil silently on the carpeting in front of the door.

Setting the box he brought along down by the door as the neighbor walked by, the intruder bent down so his face was hidden.  After the neighbor stepped into the elevator, he ran down the hallway to the stairwell, tossed the empty box in the garbage can at the bottom of the stairs, and exited out onto to the parking lot, driving away quickly to blend in with the other traffic before anyone noticed anything out of the ordinary.

When Hutch opened the door to their apartment a few hours later, he immediately noticed the upturned planter and trailing dirt.  "Goddamn it Starsky," he said out loud to himself, "couldn't you clean up this mess?  That's not like you."  He stopped short.  Starsky didn't make this mess.  He wouldn't have left the apartment like this and he would've called me about the plant.  Someone was in here.

Stepping back and using his handkerchief to close the door, he went to each door on the floor to check if anyone saw anything.  When he got to apartment 701, he introduced himself to a man they hadn't yet met, but had seen occasionally.

"Excuse me, but my name is Ken Hutchinson and I live in apartment 704."

"I don't need to know your name.  What do ya want?"  The neighbor asked belligerently.

"I believe our place may have been broken into.  Did you hear or see anything by chance?"

"I don't pay any attention to anything I hear or see – especially from your place.  And I don't want to hear anything, ya got that?"

"Did you see anyone you didn't recognize hanging around?"

"Hell, even if I did, do you think I'd tell you faggots?  If anything got stolen, it's your own damn fault for the way you live."

Sighing in exasperation, Hutch rolled his eyes.  "Sir, I don't care about your commentary.  I'm just looking to see if anyone saw anything unusual."

"And I told you I don't care."  The man growled.

"Fine.  You can just answer the same questions to the police."  He started to walk away, then turned and sarcastically remarked.  "You know sir, if your intelligence is as broad as your tolerance, the world is a lucky place."

Hutch went to see the building manager and had him call the police.  While waiting, the manager mentioned the Federal Express deliveryman that had requested entrance with a package for one of them.  Knowing there was no package when he arrived home, Hutch knew immediately where to start looking.

By the time Starsky got home half an hour later, cops and the crime team were already on the scene dusting for prints and categorizing all the contents.  The empty delivery box was found in the garbage can and taken away as evidence.  The manager was being interviewed by another cop to get a picture the intruder.

"What the hell's going on.  Hutch?"

His partner was being interviewed by a cop, while another was going from doorway to doorway down the hall to talk to their neighbors.  He held his finger up to the uniformed cop. "Excuse me a minute."  Walking over to Starsky, he pulled him over to the side for a private conversation.  "Someone was in here.  According to the manager, he pretended to be a deliveryman.  Nothing was taken I don't think.  So what does that tell you?"

"Looks like maybe we're a hit."

"That's what I was thinking.  We're being targeted.  Probably checking on us to make sure we're legit."

"We are legit now, aren't we partner?"

Hutch blushed slightly and pointedly ignored the comment.  "We got at least one witness.  The manager let him in and got a good glimpse of him.  I think he down there," Hutch pointed to their homophobic neighbor, "might've seen something, but he's being less than cooperative."

Starsky began walking toward the man in apartment 701, who was talking to a uniform, but Hutch grabbed his shirtsleeve.

"Uh, Starsk, don't.  Let McNeil take care of it."

"Why?  I can probably get something out of him."

Hutch wanted to spare his friend dealing with the nasty man, worried how he'd take the slurs.  "Trust me Starsky.  The guy's not pleasant."

"Since when do we worry about unpleasant people?  We dealt with 'em all the time Hutch?"  Starsky was confused at Hutch's reluctance to interview their neighbor.

Before he could answer, Officer Jamison walked up to the two; he had been interviewing the building manager.  "I got a composite of the intruder.  The manager is on his way down to the station to give Adam a description so we can get a sketch out."  He looked down at his notepad.  "6', late 20s, longish brown hair with blonde streaks, hazel or brown eyes, thin face, maybe 175 lbs."  Raising his head back up to the two he continued, "No prints, no forced entry, the crime team's checking for bugs now, but that's about it."

"Well it's a start." Hutch replied to Jamison.  "When do you think we can get back in there?"  He nodded toward their apartment.

"Not too long, probably within the hour."

"Starsky, you want to go get something to eat?  Or do you want to wait and clean up first?"

"Nah, I'm hungry, let's grab a bite and then come back."

"Green Parrot tonight?"  Hutch grinned evilly.

"Don't even think about it Blondie."  Starsky grimaced, thinking of trying to avoid Lance's advancements.  "Red Lantern' will be fine tonight.  Besides, I want to go to a place I can hold onto that tight bod of yours without being accosted."  He reached behind him and pinched his ass.

Jumping lightly, Hutch turned a deeper shade of red and looked over at the narrowed and prejudiced eyes of their neighbor, who snarled in their direction and mouthed an obscenity at him.

Sitting down for dinner, Hutch was surprised when Starsky only ordered a BLT sandwich and nothing else.  He, himself ordered a turkey on wheat with sprouts.  "What's up with that?"  He pointed to the other plate.

"What?  It's my dinner."  Starsky looked around confused at Hutch's meaning.

"Did you eat earlier?  You usually wolf down more than that.  And I do mean wolf."

Clicking his tongue, Starsky smiled back seductively, "Don't want to be too full for dessert tonight.  Gonna have me a blintz.  A big, golden blintz."  He took a drink of his draft beer and licked the suds off his upper lip suggestively.

"Yeah?  And what do I get?"

"Uh, uh.  Tonight's my night.  You got some Starsky knishe last night, I get to have fun tonight."

"So I take it you don't want to stay and mingle tonight?"

"Nope.  I want to learn how to please you.  Spend all night holding you in my arms and running my hands and mouth all over that gorgeous, golden bod of yours."  He fingered some excess mayonnaise off the side of his sandwich and stuck the digit in his mouth, sucking it slowly and running his tongue around his finger.

Hutch shook his head to clear it.  "Boy Starsk when you make up your mind you just jump right in."

"Yep, that's me.  Impulsive, full of life, passionate little Dave Starsky."

"Little?"  Hutch choked down his draft.

"Well, maybe compared to you.  But I guess we'll find out tonight, huh babe?"

Eyes brightened with unexpected passion from Starsky's lustful talk, Hutch ordered him to hurry up and finish his meal.  Instead his lover laughed and continued to eat slowly and suggestively, keeping his dark cerulean eyes on the blonde the entire time.  Hutch couldn't help but squirm, as he was the target of those looks and innuendoes.  He'd never been so turned on before without being physically touched.  God, I've got it bad.  "If you don't knock it off Starsky, you're not gonna get a chance to have your dessert, because there's gonna be nothing left of you by the time I get done with you."

~~*~~

Dinner was much too long for Hutch that evening, and by the time they got back to their apartment, they had forgotten about the dust.  "Shit!  We've gotta clean up first."  Starsky was frustrated, he wanted his dessert and he wanted it now.

"Hey, why don't I just call Fifi and ask her to come over here tomorrow.  We can always spend the night back at Venice Place tonight.  It's close by."

"Good idea babe.  Do it.  You call Fifi and I'll gather some stuff together."

Fifi was more than glad to help out her favorite client.  She offered to come by in the morning, hoping to see a tousled Hutch getting out of bed or even better, the shower.  Disappointment came quickly when Hutch told her he'd leave word at the manager's office for him to let her in since he wouldn't be there.  Still, she couldn't turn him down.  One of these days she was sure he'd see how good Fifi would be for one Ken Hutchinson.

Hearing Hutch close the door behind him as they entered Venice Place, Starsky turned and grabbed the tanned face between his palms and stole Hutch's breath with his mouth and his gyrating body.  "Now where were we?  Oh yes, dessert!"  His tongued lightly licked all around the full lips, "Mmmm.  If that tastes good, I wonder how the rest of my blintz will taste."

Unbuttoning the shirt that was already half-way undone in no time, Starsky began petting the smooth chest before him; sending shivers of icy heat up and down Hutch's body, manifesting itself in a growing erection.

He brought his hands up to begin unbuttoning Starsky's denim shirt, but the other man grabbed his wrists and pushed them to his sides.  "Uh, uh.  Me first."

Growling deeply Hutch protested.  "I told you that I can give as good as I can get."

"Ah, power play.  I've never tried that in bed before."  Starsky leered at him and winked as he dived for Hutch's chest and began suckling on his neck while still holding him back.  "So long and elegant; just like the rest of you."  Nipping in between each word.  "Salty...tender...delicious...mine."

"Starsky, damnit!"  Hutch's struggles became weaker.

Releasing the blonde suddenly, Starsky turned and went to the refrigerator.  Pulling out some red wine and a glass, he went over to the couch and set the items down on the coffee table.  Hutch was still standing by the door lost in a lust-filled fog.

Nodding his head, Starsky beckoned Hutch to the couch.  "Come on ya big lug, sit with me."

"Couch?  But I thought...Wouldn't the bed...?"

"Later, right now I wanna neck some more."  He gently shoved Hutch down on the couch and pushed a half-full glass into the large hands.

After Hutch took a drink, Starsky removed the glass, taking a sip of the sweet wine himself.  He didn't swallow all the fluid, but instead dribbled it around Hutch's lips as he leaned over for a kiss.  He then suckled the full lips as he gently began easing Hutch backward towards the arm of the davenport.

Tenderly kissing and exploring his face, Starsky felt Hutch relax into the cushions and upped his foreplay.  He pulled back, opening the blue shirt and gazed upon the golden smoothness beneath him.  Bringing the glass up to Hutch's lips, Starsky offered him another drink.  Then he tilted the glass downward, dripping wine on the golden expanse.

Hutch arched his torso as the cool liquid came into contact with his skin, followed by the moist heat of a mouth.  By instinct his hands reached for Starsky's head and buried themselves in a thick mane of curls.

If Hutch was tormented by the feelings coursing through his body, Starsky relished the ones beneath his hands and mouth.  The salty sweat; the smooth, soft skin; the hardened nipples that were so different from a woman's; the rippling abdomen; and strong shoulders.

"Starsky, Oh God.  Please..."  he couldn't finish his thought.

"Please what babe?  Are you doin' an Oliver?"

Hutch was so lost in the driving sensations shooting up and down his body, that the unusual question didn't even faze him.  "Huh?  Oh, yeah.  More please."

Slowly, almost hesitatingly, Starsky drew his left hand downward to the large hardened bulge that was making itself known by poking into Starsky's abdomen.  As his left hand covered the swelling and slowly began rubbing up and down, his right one tweaked and pulled at a nipple.

Involuntarily Hutch's hips began thrusting against the beautiful hand controlling him.  A new bloom of sweat and sexual heat burst onto his skin.

"Man Hutch, you are so passionate, so damn f-in hot, I could come just by watching you like this."

"Starsky," the other gasped and panted each word, "I'm gonna come if you don't slow it down."

"Go ahead babe."  Starsky purred, "I wanna watch."

With those words, Hutch groaned loudly and his body tensed and shivered as he shattered in ecstasy and love.

Starsky was amazed as he watched Hutch's face scrunch and then go slack in pleasure.  He was amazed that it was he that brought Hutch to this level and as his heart swelled in love and awe, so did his cock as it spilled the evidence of that love into his own jeans.

If a natural disaster struck now, neither man would be able to move or even care.

Afterwards, sated, showered and relaxed in bed, Hutch lay in Starsky's arms twirling the thick mane of curls on the other man's chest between his fingertips.

Using the same technique in Hutch's hair, Starsky asked, "Hey Hutch, have you ever role played before?"

The blonde head tilted upward to look at him.  "Role played?"

"You know, like you're a Sultan and she's part of your harem?  Or she's a southern damsel and you're a Confederate rescuing her from the Union soldiers?"

Hutch snorted trying to keep in his laughter, but was unable to.  "Starsky you're a trip.  When I'm with someone I've never needed anything like that."

"Well, it can be fun.  Adds a little spice and mystique to bed play."

"What brought this on?  Don't tell me you want me to be your lady in distress?  I am not dressing up so you can play some little games."

"Nothing like that.  I was just thinking..."

"Uh, oh.  It scares me when you do that out of bed, but in bed..."

Starsky playfully slapped the hands that continued to tease his chest.  "Come on Hutch.  I was just thinking of that night, you know the one where you kissed me on the dancefloor?"

"Yeah?"  Hutch asked warily.

"Well, you wore those white pants of yours and you looked so good.  Several guys even wanted to step in.  No one could stop looking at you."  He paused.  "Well, I was just picturing how you'd look in Navy dress whites.  You'd be so damn hot I'm getting worked up thinking about it."

"Oh, and you'd be the curly haired brunette babe that I take to the beach for a weekend of love?"

"Now you're talking Blondie!"  Starsky replied with a grin.

Raising on his elbows, Hutch leaned down to kiss his lover.  "Forget it Starsk.  I'll take you to a beach house, but I'm not carrying you through your workplace."

~~*~~

Waking two mornings later, to the smell of sausage and rolls, Starsky turned over in bed unsurprised that his bed mate and lover was not there.  Squinting at the sunlight streaming through the curtains, he surmised it was close to 11:00 a.m.  He felt too mellow to want to up, in fact, he'd rather spend the day in bed exploring more of their new relationship and the physical consequences.

"Starsky, I know you're awake.  Breakfast's almost ready."  Hutch called from the kitchen.

Taking care of the necessities in the bathroom, Starsky came out to the dining nook to see Hutch setting the table.  The sunlight shown through the open double window and touched the golden hair and skin of his lover, shattering the rays into a shining halo that made Hutch look like a heavenly being.  He had changed into jogging shorts and a t-shirt, while Starsky was still wearing his dark blue pajama bottoms.

Starsky walked behind his lover and wrapped his arms around the thin waist, holding him tightly to his front.  "We gotta do something to change this babe."

"Change what?"

"I like to sleep in the nude, and wearing these" he put two fingers in Hutch's waistband and snapped, "constricts me and my playtime."

Pulling his lover around to face him, Hutch gently kissed the tip of Starsky's nose.  "Good morning."  He traced his thumbs up the sturdy torso rubbing the taught nipples and watching the look of pleasure on the darker face.

"Hutch, the window!"

He leaned over and nibbled on Starsky's ear.  "So?  We're seven stories up and there's no other buildings facing us."

Starsky looked over out the window.  "There's...Hutch stop!  There's a guy on that telephone pole, he can see us."

"Starsky, that telephone pole has to be over 200 feet away.  The guy's probably working on a line.  Unless he has a bionic eye or a pair of binoculars – which telephone repair men usually don't carry – then I don't think he's gonna see anything.  Or even care."

If the man on the telephone pole was a legitimate utility employee, Hutch would be right....

The false telephone employee watched as the dark haired man swung a leg over the now seated blonde, and straddled him as the blonde's face disappeared beneath a tumble of dark curls.

As Starsky sat in Hutch's lap, the blonde brought his hands down and slid them beneath the back of the dark blue cotton pajama pants, lightly stroking the tender flesh.  Without warning, a shiver ran down the entire length of Starsky's body.  Then those magic hands moved forward, tickling the hairs on his lower abdomen and groin.  When they found their objective and began stroking his pulsing member, Starsky's breath quickened and he squirmed.

"Starsk?  You're getting heavy, can you move off?"

"Man Hutch, you can't do this to me.  Get me all worked up before I have my breakfast."

"So?  I can always warm up everything in the microwave range.  Besides, you don't need any nourishment for what I've got planned.  This is my breakfast."  He lifted Starsky off his lap, pulling down the pajamas to Starsky's thighs, and sat him on the table, shoving the plate of sausage over to the side.

As Hutch lifted Starsky's cock and began stroking it slowly, the man on the telephone pole watched the morning love scene as it unfolded.  The darker man leaned on his elbows and lower arms, head thrown backward as the blonde lowered himself in between the prone man's legs.

If he had any doubt the two weren't pretending, he had none now.

Anger and frustration flooded the man as he watched his two victims in their intimate act.  Soon, he told himself.  It had to be timed just right, but he would take care of them soon.  He began gathering himself to make the trek back down the pole before someone suspicious came along.  But he couldn't help but take one more look.

Their fast broken, Starsky and Hutch feasted on shriveled sausages, rubbery eggs, and warmed over biscuits, but they didn't care.  After an experience like that Starsky would've ate mud and not tasted a thing.  He was flying.  I can't believe Hutch did that.  To me; for me.  He smiled broadly across the table at his lover as he thought of the way Hutch had treated him with such care and adoration.

"What?"  Starsky kept grinning at him and seemed to be studying him.

"You.  You're so damn beautiful you know.  In everything, especially the way you...you know."

"That's because I love you and want to give you all that I am."

Starsky dipped his head partially in shame, partially in embarrassment, as he fingered his napkin.  "I never thought much about it, ya know?  Except when Johnny died.  And even then, I put it from my mind because I couldn't handle the reality."  He raised his head and looked directly at Hutch.  "But the reality Hutch, is that it don't matter when someone does something that nice for you in love.  I just hope that I'm not a disappointment to you.  I mean, how can I measure up to what you just did for me."

Hutch looked at his anxious lover with all the love in the world shining from his eyes.  "There's no way you can disappoint me Starsk.  You delight me just by letting me touch you."  He reached over to place his hand on Starsky's.  "And if there's something you don't feel comfortable with, well, then just tell me and I'll do the same for you."

"I admit I'm a little nervous about oral sex.  Didn't it seem weird to you?"

"Not when I knew it was going to make you feel good.   I really didn't think about it Starsk.  Don't let it bother you.  If you want to try something like that we will.  If not, we can do other things."

Wanting to change the subject, Starsky looked around him, the window drawing his attention.  He stood half-way up from his chair.  "Hey Hutch?  That phone company guy?"  The blonde nodded.  "I thought you said they didn't carry binoculars."

"They don't."  Hutch got up and walked to the window and stood beside Starsky.

Seeing the two lovers standing at the large window, the killer panicked and dropped the binoculars to his neck.  He lifted his leg over the metal rung to bring his foot up and hurriedly make his way down the pole.  In his haste, his heel caught the rung and he slipped backward, the strap of the binoculars catching on a higher rung, entangling him.

"Starsky, call the police – NOW!"  Hutch pointed to the phone as he watched the man struggle high up on the pole.

In his frenzy to get away, the killer's other foot slipped off the rung it was set on and he grabbed a different rung with his right hand, hanging only by his hand and the strap of the binoculars.  The force was too much for the thin vinyl strap and it snapped, sending the binoculars one way and the killer's body down the pole.

Seeing the man in distress, Hutch ran out of the apartment while Starsky was on the phone with the police and told him them to call an ambulance to their location also.

By the time Hutch got to the exit door and headed for the middle of the parking lot, the killer's grip had loosened.  He tumbled, almost in slow motion, his head and hands coming into contact with several of the metal rungs on his way down.  When Hutch reached him, blood was streaming from his ears and behind his head.

The hazel eyes flickered several times as he spoke.  "Not...fair...I...wanted...be...loved..." he trailed off with a shuddering breath as his traumatized body shut down.

Starsky hurriedly joined Hutch as he knelt next to the fallen man.  Taking a look at the man's face, he looked at Hutch, surprise reflected in both sets of eyes.  "Lance?"

~~*~~

The subsequent investigation of Lance's apartment revealed a notebook with details of the three prior murders, as well as pictures of all eight men – including Starsky and Hutch.  Luckily, none of the pictures were of a damning nature.  That was enough evidence for the D.A. to conclude that Lance Griffith was the killer of all six gay couples.  It was discovered during the course of the investigation that Lance was not the manager of the 'Green Parrot', but rather a host and entertainer.

As best as Simmons and Babcock could figure from the ramblings of the dead killer, Lance was jealous of couples who had found and made a life together.  "In other words, he was jealous of their relationship."  Babcock looked at Starsky, "from what you've told us about your dealings with him.  I think he was very jealous of Hutch and that was why he picked you out as potential victims."

"So what happens to us now?"  Starsky asked as he leaned one hand against the wall in Interrogation Room 7.

"Well, media relations has explained to the news sources that your relationship and subsequent firing was all part of an undercover operation.  And of course, everyone in the department knows that now too."

Simmons grinned at the two men.  "I'm sure you'll be getting another commendation for going 'above the call of duty'."

"We don't want another commendation.  Let's just say this experience has been an eye opening one for us."  Both Starsky and Hutch looked at each other meaningfully.

"How do you mean?"  Simmons looked back and forth questioningly at the two.

"How gays are treated, the isolated world they sometimes live in, how their lifestyle changes their views of the world and politics.  Things of that nature."  Hutch replied.

"Shoe on the other foot sorta thing."  Babcock nodded.  "Yeah, I can see how living as you had to might change things."

Yeah, it sure changed things, didn't it babe?  Starsky telepathed to his partner and lover.  But for the better.

Dobey gave them the next week off so they could wrap things up at their temporary jobs and move back into their apartments.  But first, they had to deal with Huggy.

"Huggy?"  Asked Hutch when Starsky mentioned it on the way over to the Pits.

"Yeah, he ain't gonna be too happy about this latest turn of events."

Putting his hand on Starsky's thigh, Hutch suggested they tell Huggy the truth.  "He won't say anything.  Besides, he has a right to know.  He figured it out before we did."

"No, I meant he's not gonna be too happy about there not being a wedding."

The blonde head went back as Hutch burst forth in deep laughter.

~~*~~

Epilogue

"Starsk, let's go out tonight."  Hutch said as Starsky pulled the Torino in front of Venice Place.

"Sure babe, Huggy's?"

"How about a drink at Chandeliers?"  Hutch took off his sunglasses and put them in his pocket, reaching for the door handle at the same time.

Starsky put a hand on his arm to stop him.  "Do you think that's wise?"

Hutch shrugged, "As long as we're careful.  Why not?"

"Okay.  But we're not staying long."  He turned the engine off just as Hutch opened the passenger door.

The door slammed shut and his partner winked at him through the opened window.  "Count on it."  Hutch said intriguingly.  "I'll meet you there.  8:00 sharp."  And he turned and walked to the doorway of his building.

"Hey!  Wait!"  Meet me there?

It was several weeks since the CAG Murderer had been killed falling from a utility pole while spying on Starsky and Hutch.  Everything was falling back in line.  Their working relationships were back to normal, with a few exceptions like Lee Parkes, but Lee had never liked Starsky since his best-friend was killed by George Prudhomme years ago.  Their friendship with Huggy hadn't been damaged, though the man was still disappointed about the wedding.  They were in line for a commendation by the city; their personal lives had taken off to a new level; and Hutch had even gotten a new exotic plant from Dean's as a good-luck gift.

All in all, life is good.  Starsky smiled to himself.  Love does that to you.  Colors everything in flowers and sunshine.  He was still amazed at the well of love for Hutch he had discovered inside himself.  But rather than analyze it, he welcomed it at face, and reveled in their robust sex life.  Now what to wear tonight to turn on my Hutch.

Having settled on a pair of black jeans with a blue and white patterned rayon shirt unbuttoned to his naval, a pair of comfortable boat shoes, and liberally doused in Old Spice, Starsky waited at the bar for his partner.

It was 8:30 and he no longer cared about how attractive he appeared to Hutch.  His lover hadn't made an appearance yet.  Starsky didn't know whether he should be angry or worried, so he alternated between both emotions.  Going to the pay phone for the second time in 15 minutes to try Hutch's, he turned down an offer to dance, only to get a ringing phone once more.

As he hung up the receiver, Starsky realized that the bar had quieted down except for the buzzing of whispered voices and the background hum of music.  A shrill whistle startled his attention away from his worries and he looked up.

Only to see Hutch standing at the entrance to the bar area.  But not just any Hutch – it was the Hutch of his fantasies.

His lover stood completely still, all dressed in white – a Naval dress uniform to be exact.

The long muscular legs were encased in crisp white pants that seemed to go on forever.  A pressed cotton dress shirt was tucked into his pants tightly, showing off Hutch's slim torso.  Bright eyes as blue as an Alaskan sky on a cool autumn morning; a hint of golden expanse beneath the pressed white shirt; and white blonde hair which had been trimmed to just below the nape and now lay in soft waves, capped the uniform.  The soft lighting of the bar shone down upon him and burst into a halo surrounding Hutch and made him seem as a heavenly entity – Starsky's heavenly entity.

"Oh My God," he whispered under his breath.  The two sets of eyes snared each other and held together; the rest of the world fading away into the background.

Slowly walking toward his vision in white, their eyes never leaving each other's, Starsky quivered.  With each step, Hutch's smile got wider.  Starsky reached out a trembling hand to make sure the vision was real, fingering the stiff collar and brushing

"Hey Sailor, want to land at my dock?"  The suggestive line from an inebriated patron broke the spell.

Without looking at the man, Starsky replied for Hutch.  "Sorry buddy, this ship has sailed, and I'm the captain."

Hutch set his hat on Starsky's head and gathered the man in his arms, embracing him loosely.

"Hutch, you are...you are so...so damn gorgeous!  I can't believe you did this."

"Don't think I'm going to carry you out of here buddy."  Hutch warned, bright face smiling down into his lover's. 

"I just wanna take you somewhere and ravish that beautiful body, but I'm afraid of disturbing the uniform.  Where'd you get it anyway?"  He smoothed the taught white covered chest.

"I rented it from a costume shop.  You didn't think I actually joined the Navy did you?"

"Nah.  If I can put you in a crystal box and keep you this way forever, I would."

"You're a mushbrain."  Hutch leaned down to place a kiss at the end of Starsky's nose.  "Let's dance."

"Hey, what about the other part of my fantasy?"  Starsky asked as they made their way out to the dance floor.

"What part would that be?"

"The beach house?"

"What beach house?"  Hutch played innocent, not hard to do all in white.

Starsky elbowed him in the side.  "The one you promised me?  Remember?"

Nodding his head once, as if it just occurred to him, Hutch replied, "Oh, that part."  He gathered Starsky in his arms.  "We've got the next two days off.  I rented a small cottage off Dana Beach, and a limo to take us there.  How's that sound?"

Breathless from looking into Hutch's shining face, Starsky stammered, "If we've, uh, gotta stop off at my place to, uh, to collect some stuff, then maybe we should go now."

Smacking his tightly encased ass lightly, Hutch replied, "Everything we need is right here."

Starsky gulped, unable to say anything else as his body shivered in delightful anticipation.

After one dance, Starsky barely holding onto Hutch so he didn't mar the rented uniform, they walked arm in arm to the main door; applause following them.  Just as they reached the double doors, Hutch turned half-way and tapped Starsky on the shoulder.  "Starsk?"

"Yeahbabe?"

Not answering, Hutch reached down and grasped Starsky behind the knees.  Bracing his back with his left arm, Hutch carried his lover out the door and into the waiting limo.

The End