Raze the Fantasy

by MysticWhim

"Hutch, it's Huggy.  Hey, did you have some kind of fall out with Starsky tonight?"

Hutch had perched the phone between his ear and his shoulder to allow him to roll down his flannel sleeve and button the cuff.  "No, Hug.  Why?  Something wrong?"  His concerned piqued, he gave up on the sleeves and grabbed the phone in his hand.

"Somethin's up.  He's down here, and he's three sheets to the wind.  Acts like he's got some sorrows to drown.  I told him I'd call you, and he got all uptight.  Said he couldn't face you, that he'd screwed things up big time.  I woulda put him upstairs but I got Anita stayin' here since she got evicted.  Not that she'd mind sharin' a bed with Curly, mind you, but I doubt even she'd want 'im in this condition.  Can ya come down?"

"Sure Hug.  I'll be right there."  He stared at the phone a minute after hanging up, caught up in the wonder of what had Starsky so upset. 

~*~

Hutch walked into The Pits and was immediately greeted by Huggy.  He took him to the furthest booth toward the back, where the dark haired man was barely propped on the edge of the table, beer glass clutched tightly in his fist, face buried in the crook of his arm.  Hutch sat on the edge of the opposite bench.

"Starsk?"

At the sound of his partner's voice, Starsky released his beer glass and flung his limp arm over his head, apparently wishing he could hide those curls as well as he had hidden his face.  A deep sigh was the only response he gave Hutch.  After a moment, he lifted his bleary eyes to Huggy, who was still standing at the ready in case Hutch needed a hand.  "Traitor," he muttered.

"Don't go blaming Huggy, Starsk.  He can't very well leave you in here passed out on the table.  Come on, buddy.  I'll take you home."

"Don' wanna."

Ignoring his dismissal, Hutch came around to him, putting an arm around his waist and carefully raising the man to his feet.  To the relief of Huggy and Hutch, Starsky did not put up a fight or offer further objections.  He seemed to just surrender to his partner's will.  Huggy dangled a set of car keys in front of Hutch's hand.  "Took these off him an hour ago.  Might as well take the tomato.  Better if he pukes in his own car instead of yours." 

"Ain't gonna puke," Starsky replied,  "Already did."

"Hmm.  I better run a check in the men's room and see if I need to do some cleanin'," Huggy declared suspiciously.  He threw the bar rag over his shoulder and sauntered off in the direction of the rest rooms.

"Didn't mess it up," Starsky shook his head.  "Wouldn't do that to Hug."

"Why'd you do this to yourself, pal?" Hutch asked him.  "Somethin' happen I don't know about?"  He steered the man out the back door and to the Torino.  He pushed Starsky up against the car so that he was propped up while he unlocked the vehicle. 

"Ruined everythin'," Starsky blurted, shaking his head.  He reached out to Hutch, grabbing his sleeve with both hands.  "Why'd ya have to be so damn perfect, huh?"

Hutch looked into his intent stare, and laughed.  "Perfect?  That what you think, buddy?  Hey, this is me, remember?  You above everybody else knows I'm far from perfect." 

"Perfect," he slurred, as Hutch guided him into the passenger seat before walking around to the driver's side. 

As he slid into his own seat, he had to prop the drunken Starsky up to keep him from curling up across the entire front seat.  Starsky slid sideways on the back of the seat until he connected with Hutch's supportive shoulder.  For a moment he sat curled against his partner, looking comfortable enough for the drive home.  Hutch headed for his friend's apartment, figuring on borrowing his car to get himself home, after seeing his friend to bed.  Suddenly Starsky's eyes flew open, and he tried to sit up in the seat.  "Sorry," he mumbled, then collapsed against the passenger door. 

"You okay there, pal?" Hutch asked as he watched for signs that his partner was about to be ill.

Starsky shook his head.  "Not alright."   He lifted his head and stared at Hutch with wide eyes.  "How'm I gonna fix this, Hutch, huh?"

"Fix what, Starsk?"

"I love ya, Hutch."

Hutch smiled.  "I love you too, pal."  It always amused him when Starsky was drunk and loved everyone.  He reached out and patted his friend on the shoulder.

"No, Hutch," Starsky struggled.  "I love ya...  Really love ya."

"I believe you, pal," Hutch chuckled.  "Tell me why you needed to get so hammered tonight.  And how come you didn't want Huggy to call me?  Did something happen?"

Starsky shook his head again and buried his face in his hands.  "No.  You don' love me."

"Sure I do, buddy.  I'm here getting your drunken ass home aren't I?  Only your mother loves you more than me.  But don't think you don't owe me one, buddy boy.  Maybe I should make you buy me lunch tomorrow."

"Yer my best friend."  Starsky leaned his head against the door's window, his vacant stare focused on some unseen pain.  The forlorn look on his face stole the smile from Hutch's lips.  Starsky gave a heavy sigh, and closed his eyes again.

Hutch wondered what had brought all this down.  Their day had gone well.  It was a slow crime day, and the relatively smog free sky and mild temperatures had people in a cheerful mood.  They had been in a silly mood themselves, even playing a harmless joke on their grumpy captain.  Whatever had affected his friend must have occurred after they parted company.

The rest of the drive to Starsky's apartment was quiet, as he appeared to have fallen asleep against the car door.  Hutch guided him out of the car and up to his home with practiced ease, depositing him unceremoniously on his bed.  He slid the socks and shoes from his friend's feet, then pulled him to a somewhat sitting position so that he could peel the shirt from him.  Without ever opening his eyes, Starsky rolled back onto his bed when Hutch had finished the task.  Hutch reached for the wasteband of his friend's snug jeans to unfasten them, when a hand suddenly and tightly grasped his wrist.  "Don't," Starsky snarled.

Startled Hutch looked at Starsky, who now seemed oddly alert and almost alarmed.  "Relax there, pal.  I was just gonna help you out of these jeans.  You'll be more comfortable without 'em.  Help me out, will ya?  I swear you have these damn things painted on."

Starsky batted his hands away and unsteadily rose to his feet.  "Don't touch me," he snapped, just before he lost his balance and sank back to his seat on the edge of the bed.  He dropped his face into his hands again. 

Puzzled, Hutch studied him for a moment, then offered, "Hey, you want me to make you some coffee or something?" He hoped some of the alcohol was wearing off, and he might find out what had brought his friend to the state in the first place.

"Go home, Hutch."

Not to be put off so easily, Hutch sat down beside his partner.  "Tell me what happened, Starsk."

"I tol' you," he grumbled.  He got to his feet again and tried to escape Hutch, his foot catching on an abandoned sneaker.  He started to fall, but Hutch saw it coming and jumped up to help.  Starsky fell back against his chest, barely missing the dresser. 

"Whoa there," Hutch crooned.  "No sudden moves yet, okay?" 

"Leggo me", Starsky pleaded.

Hutch turned him around and clasped him by the upper arms to steady him.  The expression on his friend's face took him aback.  He looked almost frightened.  "What's the matter, Starsky?"

Starsky stared into Hutch's concerned eyes.  "I told you; I love you.  You're my best friend, and I went and screwed everythin' up by fallin' for ya.  I'm sorry, Hutch.  I never meant to fall in love with ya."

The understanding hit Hutch like a slap across his face.  "Ah, Starsk."

Starsky pulled away from him and turned his back.  "Never felt like this 'bout a guy before.  Surprised me.  I dunno what to do 'bout it."

"So you drank yourself stupid?  That's not gonna help, Starsk.  You shoulda come to me, talked to me.  Turn around, Starsky."

Starsky leaned a hand against the wall for support.  "Can't.  I don' wanna see that look on your face."

"What look?"

"The pity look.  Or the run-like-hell look.  It's not gonna be the look I wanna see."

"I don't pity you, and I'm not runnin' like hell.  Just turn around and talk to me."  Reluctantly, Starsky turned around and leaned back against the wall for support.  He raised his eyes to Hutch.  Relief flitted across his face, but looked away quickly.   

"Can we talk about this?" Hutch asked.

"Don't think I can," Starsky said quietly.  "'M really drunk, Hutch."

A grin tugged at the corners of Hutch's mouth.  "Yeah, you are, buddy.  Lemme get you to bed."

"I get my own pants," Starsky insisted.  "Don' need help." 

"I'm gonna get you some aspirin," Hutch offered.   He went to the kitchen to find a large glass, and filled it with water.  In the bathroom he found the aspirin and brought them to Starsky.

Starsky was sprawled on his back on the bed, the jeans forgotten.  It looked like he gave up and passed out when it proved to be too much effort.  Hutch placed the pills and water on the nightstand, then came to the aid of his sleeping friend.  Starsky had undone the fastener and unzipped, so Hutch tugged the pants down and pulled them from his feet.  In his struggle with the stubborn jeans, it was impossible to miss the healthy erection his friend was sporting.  

"See what you do to me?" Starsky murmured.

Hutch looked up to see the lust-darkened eyes of his partner watching him closely.  Deciding that any response would probably be the wrong response, he skirted the issue.  "I put the aspirin on your nightstand.  You should take them if you want to avoid a hangover in the morning."  He seriously doubted that the aspirin would be sufficient, but it couldn't hurt.

Starsky rolled onto his stomach and reached for the painkillers.  He downed them along with most of the water Hutch had supplied.  Then he dropped his head to the pillow and gave into his exhaustion.

Debating on whether or not to crash on the couch, Hutch finally opted to go with his first intention and return home, leaving Starsky a note explaining that he borrowed the car and would return in the morning to give him a ride to work.

~*~

The following morning, Hutch honked once then waited for Starsky.  It was a short wait before the man slid into the passenger seat, slouched down with his arms crossed on his chest.  Dark sunglasses hid his eyes, and he looked tense and ill tempered. 

"Good morning," Hutch gently greeted him.  "How're you feeling?"

"Like crap," he replied, staring straight ahead.

Hutch pulled a bottle of aspirin from his coat pocket and tossed them onto the seat.  Starsky grabbed them and stuffed them into his pocket.  "Thanks."

Both were quiet for a while when Starsky broke the silence.  "I told you, didn't I."

"Yeah."

Starsky turned his head away and stared out the passenger window, not saying a word.

"Starsk..." Hutch began, but the other man raised his hand to silence him.

"Don't wanna discuss it."

"I'm your friend, Starsky.  You can talk to me.  We'll deal with this."

Starsky continued to stare straight ahead.  "I've been dealin' with it, Hutch.  It ain't gonna go away.  It's how I feel."

"It's not uncommon to feel an ..."  The hand came up again.

"Save it."

"When two people work together..."

"Cut the crap, Hutch.  I know all this.  You sound like my shrink.  Knowin' that it's not that unusual to be attracted to another guy, even if you ain't gay, don't make it stop.  And knowin' that the life and death stress of our job makes us closer than average friends, don't make it stop.  I can't change the fact that I'm attracted to ya.  I can't stop thinkin' 'bout ya.  Sometimes just bein' near ya or havin' ya touch me makes me throw a rod.  We're not dealin' with it – I am."

"You're seeing a shrink?"

"Yeah."

After a stretch of silence, Starsky asked, "Did I tell ya about Felicia last night?"

"The waitress?"

"Stewardess."

"Oh yeah.  The one with the big... uh... no, you didn't."

"That's the one.  She's hot," he grinned.  The grin soon faded.  "She came by my place yesterday.  She sometimes drops by when she's in town.  One thing led to another, and we ended up in the bedroom."  He paused.  "I wanted to, but I couldn't."

"You mean...?"

"I couldn't get it up."

"Starsky, that doesn't mean anything.  That happens to ever-"

"It doesn't happen to me."

"Starsk..."

"Hutch, it ain't like I got a problem with impotence.  I got no problem getting it up for you."  Then he added quietly, "I don't want anybody else."

Hutch parked the car in front of Parker Center and shut off the ignition.  "How long's all this been goin' on?"

"Quite a while."

"I'm glad you finally told me." 

"I'm not."  He sighed in frustration.  "Now you're gonna act different.  You'll steer clear o' me, and you'll keep your hands off..."

Hutch's right hand shot out and grabbed a handful of Starsky's shirt.  He yanked the startled man close so their faces were inches apart.  "For your information, pal, I'm not steering clear of you, and I have no intention of keeping my hands off of you.  You want me to stop, your gonna have to tell me you don't like it.  In the meantime, I intend to treat you no differently than I have before.  You got that?"

A corner of Starsky's mouth twitched upward.  "I got it."

Hutch released him, smoothing down the front of his shirt.  "Good.  Deal with that."  Then he jumped out of the car, tossing the keys back to their owner. 

~*~

The first few days, Starsky acted pretty much as he normally did, albeit a little more subdued.  But as time went on, his attitude worsened; darkened.  He became sullen, moody.  He seemed morose.  Hutch's attempts to draw him out were unsuccessful.  Instead of Hutch avoiding Starsky's touch or his company, it was the other way around.  Starsky was doing the avoiding, withdrawing into himself.

Finally, it caught the attention of their supervisor.

"Hutch, in my office," Dobey commanded.

Starsky was running late that morning, and had not shown up for work yet.  Hutch headed into his captain's office alone.

"Close the door."

He took a seat.

"Where's Starsky this morning?"

"He was checking with that guy Preston that Huggy told us about," Hutch lied.  "New informant.  He should be in any time now."

Not buying it, Dobey suggested, "Tell him to buy a new alarm clock if this one isn't doin' the job." 

Hutch donned an innocent expression, but the captain brushed him off.  He got down to reason he called Hutch in.  "I've noticed that Starsky hasn't been himself lately.  Is there something wrong?  Something I should know about?"

"No, Cap, nothing that I know of.   I'm sure he's fine.  He's been complaining about a cold comin' on..."

"Hutch, this is no cold, son.  I know something's wrong.  I'm concerned."

"I can't speak for him, Cap."

"No, and I'm not asking you to betray his confidence.  I want you to know that I'm here for you.  The department has resources that are available, and you both can come to me for help."

"Of course.  Thank you."

"Is this affecting his performance on the job?"

"No.  I'd tell you if it were."

"Is it burnout?"

"No, I don't think so.  I think he just has some personal issues he's dealing with.  But he is dealing with them.  He just needs some time."

"I was hoping you'd try to get him to the department psychologist..."

"Cap, Starsky isn't going to tolerate me nosing into his private affairs."

"Do what you can, son.  Whatever's eating at him has gone on long enough."

"I'll try."

"Good.  Dismissed."  As his detective stood to leave, Dobey added, "Hutch, if there's anything I can do to help, you'll let me know?  I'm speaking as your friend here, not as your captain.  You boys are both welcome to turn to me if you need me.  You know I'll do what I can for you."

"Thanks, Cap.  I'll let you know."

Dobey followed Hutch out of his office.  Starsky had just walked in and was making a beeline for the coffee pot.  "Starsky, you're late," Dobey complained. 

"Sorry, Cap'n, won't happen again," Starsky replied absently.  "Hutch, you ready?  We're supposed to meet Huggy down at the docks in half an hour.  He's gonna introduce us to Preston, that new informant."

Dobey glared at Hutch, who smiled and said, "Alarm clock.  Got it."

~*~

Hutch tried all day to talk to Starsky, but was consistently put off.   It wasn't until the shift was over and the two sat in the car in front of Venice Place that Hutch finally confronted him.  "Starsky, we need to talk.  Dobey called me into his office today about you.  Come upstairs, will ya?"

Irritated, he consented.  The two sat on the couch as Hutch relayed the conversation he had with Dobey. 

"I don't know what you want me to say, Hutch.  I am seein' a shrink, just not the department one.  I'm tryin' to work this out."

"I know you are buddy.  But you're trying to do this alone.  Why don't you let me help you?  You shut me out."

Starsky stood and started to pace.  "I shut you out 'cause the more you're involved in my life, the more I want you involved with me!  I can't handle this Hutch.  I can't stop thinkin' 'bout ya.  I can't stop wantin' ya."

"What does the doc say?"

"She tells me she wants to put me on anti-depressants," he replied glumly. 

"Starsk, if it'll help..."

"No.  I ain't taking drugs.  She said they could make me dizzy or tired.  I can't take that chance.  Besides, if this gets out to the department, I don't wanna risk my badge."  He was thoughtful for a moment, then confessed what he had been considering.  "I could leave."

"Is that what you want?  You want to walk away?"  Hutch was stunned.

"I don't want to, no.  But maybe it would be better for both of us."

"For how long?  For good??"

"I could go back to New York.  I sent a resume back to the precinct my old man worked at."

Hutch was on his feet and beside his friend.  "Starsky, no.  Don't run from your problems; it doesn't solve anything."

"I ain't runnin' from my problems," he answered crossly.  "I'm miserable here, Hutch.  I'm dyin' inside.  I gotta do somethin', and I'm fresh outta ideas."

"Starsk, don't do this."  He reached out and grabbed Starsky by the shoulders.

"Maybe if I wasn't around you all the time, I could get over you."  His heartbreak twisted Hutch's soul.

"Aw Starsk," Hutch pulled him into a tight hug, refusing to release him.  Starsky was rigid, but soon melted into the warm comfort of his partner's embrace.  His hands each grabbed a fistful of Hutch's shirt, his face buried against his chest. 

Starsky broke free from the embrace, taking a few steps back. "Sorry, Hutch.  I keep this up an' my brain's gonna go into fantasy mode."

Hutch smiled.  For a moment he curiously wondered about what kind of fantasy Starsky would have about him.  He even wondered if in reality he measured up to the fantasy image.  A thought occurred to him.  Would I live up to the fantasy?

"You're smiling," Starsky observed.  "What're you thinking?"

"Starsk, have you seen that new Dudley Moore and Bo Derek movie?"

"10?  Sure.  Why?"

"What happens when he gets the girl?"

"He figures out that he really wanted Julie Andrews all along."

"But why, Starsk?  Why did he give up on Bo Derek?"

"Because she wasn't what he thought.  He thought she was perfect."

"In other words, she didn't live up to his fantasy of her, so he lost interest."

Starsky looked at Hutch curiously.  "What are you thinkin', Hutch?"

Hutch walked away from him and sat on the couch.  He ran his hand over his face, his mind racing.

"Hutch?"  Starsky sat down beside him. 

"What if we tried out your fantasy?"

"What?!?"

"Just think about this a second.  What if we act on your fantasy?  I give you what you want.  What do you think would happen?"

"Hutch, are you insane?"

"Hell, Starsky!  You're straight!  You have no idea what it's like to sleep with a man!"

"Oh, and you do?"

"No!  But that's my point.  You've been obsessing over something that is completely foreign to you, foreign to both of us.  How can it live up to your fantasy if we acted on it?  You've probably got this idealistic scenario in your head, and reality won't be anything like that."

"So you think you'd be a disappointment to me in bed, is that it?"  Amusement twinkled in his eyes.

"Basically, yes."

Starsky laughed.  "You are insane."

Hutch smiled.  "What have we got to lose?  If it doesn't work, we're no worse off than we are now.  If you are disappointed, maybe we can work our way back."

"You'd be willing to have sex with me, in hopes that it'll turn me off of you?  Are you that bad in bed, Hutch?"

"Considering you don't have the equipment I'm used to working with, I have my reservations, yes," he laughed.

"You need to work on your self-esteem, pal."

"So are you game?" 

"You're serious."

"Yes, I'm serious!  You say you want me; I'm offering."  Hutch found himself hoping for an affirmative answer.

"Don't tempt me, Hutchinson."  The laughter was gone from his voice.  He had been enjoying the banter, the feeling of normalcy that accompanied it, and he enjoyed the encouragement of his fantasy.  But this was getting out of hand, and he was starting to want it.

Hutch stood up and headed for the door. 

"Hutch?  Where ya goin'?

"You said 'don't tempt me', and I'm taking that as a yes.  I'm going to the drug store.  Why don't you grab a shower.  I'll take one when I get back."

"Drug store?" Starsky squeaked, but his partner had already shut the door behind him.

~*~

When Hutch returned from the drugstore, he was relieved to find Starsky still there.  He was wrapped in his bathrobe, looking uncharacteristically shy.  Considering his unpredictable moods of late, he half expected the man to flee in his absence, rejecting his offer.  Instead, Starsky gave him a nervous smile when he came in.  There had been far too few smiles in the past few weeks.  "You still with me, partner?" Hutch asked.

"You didn't think I could pass up a chance like this, did ya?"  His grin broadened.

"I hoped not," Hutch replied honestly, putting the bottle of wine in the fridge to chill.  He pulled something out of the bag and flipped it to Starsky. 

"What's this?"

"KY Jelly," Hutch replied.  "It's a lubricant."

Starsky looked to Hutch in disbelief.  "How far did ya wanna take this?"

Hutch's eyes flashed in their intensity.  "It's your fantasy, Starsky.  You tell me."  Then he added, "As far as I'm concerned, there are no limits."  He proceeded to remove the other items from the bag. 

Starsky's shocked expression softened.  He slowly placed the tube of lubricant on the kitchen counter, admitting, "I don't know if I can do this."

The words had been spoken with such sadness, that Hutch instinctively reached out and grabbed Starsky's wrist.  "We can do this," Hutch said with conviction.  "We can do this together."

"How come you're not nervous about this, huh?"  Starsky walked away from him.  "Doesn't this whole idea turn you off?  I don't think I can go through with this, if being with me turns you off."

Hutch pondered the question.  "No, I'm not turned off.  On the contrary, I expect will be nice, for both of us.  I trust you.  I know the only thing you want to do is give me pleasure, and that's what I want to do to you.  I'm not afraid of this, Starsky.  When I make love to someone, it's not their body shape that's important; it's what's between us, the love that we share, and the pleasure we give to express it.  This is no different."

"You wanna make love to me?"  He was completely astonished.

"Starsk, if this is just going to be about mechanics, there's no point to continue.  Hell, you could buy that kind of sex on the street.  That isn't what this is about.  You don't just want to be fucked.  You're in love.  Besides, we've been friends for too long, care about each other too much; I don't think we're capable of doing this any other way.  There's just too much between us.  You can't take that out of the equation."

"But you aren't attracted to me," he pointed out.

"That's not true.  I'm attracted to you as a person.  Just because I've never felt a physical attraction to your ugly mug doesn't mean I'm repulsed by you."

Starsky laughed.  "Ugly mug, huh?  I didn't exactly see you fightin' the ladies off with a stick to be here with me tonight.  At least I'm clean.  When was the last time you took a shower?"

Hutch grinned.  "Just where I was headed."  It was good to see Starsky laughing and joking again. 

He stepped into the bathroom and proceeded to strip down and step under the refreshing spray.  For the first time this day, he allowed himself to think about what was happening, or about to happen, between him and Starsky.  In all truth, he didn't really think that once Starsky had a taste of his fantasy that it would cease to be of interest to him.  Starsky was not shallow.  He was grasping at straws and he knew it.  But the idea that Starsky would permanently leave Bay City had been a jolt.  When he had pulled Starsky into his arms, he was painfully aware that this man meant too much to him, was too much a part of his life and his happiness, to let him walk away.  The helplessness of the situation had washed over him.  There had to be something he could do. 

Finished with the shower, Hutch reached for his robe, only to come up empty handed.  He remembered that Starsky was wearing it.  After toweling off, he was about to wrap a towel around himself but instead decided to do without.  He silently walked into the bedroom stark naked, coming to a stop to watch Starsky who was sitting on the bed flipping through a magazine.  Watching him, he felt all the affection he had for this man well up within him, filling the very room.

Starsky had been engrossed in an article, but looked up when he sensed that he was being watched. The vision of Hutch standing before him in his naked pride, watching him, stopped his very breath. "Beautiful," was all he could say, casting aside the forgotten magazine.

Hutch smiled, pleased that Starsky could find such appreciation for his body. He walked to the nightstand to retrieve the bottle of massage oil from the newly purchased supplies that Starsky had placed there, alongside the glasses of wine. "I thought maybe I could start by giving you a massage, and we could just take it from there."

The smile that lit up Starsky's face made Hutch glad he thought to purchase the oil. "Sure, I'd like that," Starsky replied. Hutch motioned for him to rise up to his knees. He untied the belt from the robe and slowly unwrapped it from his body, stripping Starsky of the only clothing he wore. A shiver of pleasure visibly rocked Starsky, inspiring him to cup Hutch's face and kiss him lovingly.

"Mmm, nice," Hutch smiled as their lips parted.  He cupped Starsky's cheek and stroked his thumb across his cheekbone.  Starsky closed his eyes and turned slightly into his hand, his face showing the pleasure that this tiny gesture gave him. 

Hutch was amazed with Starsky's sensual side.  He seemed to feel things so intensely, and not even the slightest gesture or touch was discounted or ignored.  He took nothing for granted.  He was so aware!

Touched by his friend's response to his caress, Hutch kissed Starsky's cheek.  This time, instead of just presenting the kiss as a gesture, he did so with the kind of awareness he had witnessed.  He felt the texture of Starsky's skin against his lips, the heat of his face and the hot breath that stirred his own hair, and smelled the scent of his aftershave.  He felt Starsky's cheek crease with the dimple that told him of the smile his lips evoked.  He felt the tentative hand that gently slid up his back, barely touching his skin.   All the sensations combined to send goosebumps across his flesh.

With a firmer touch, Starsky rubbed Hutch's arm.  "You cold?" Starsky asked, noticing the goosebumps.

"No," Hutch softly replied.  "It's you doing this to me."  Starsky kissed him again, this time with more passion than the last.  Hutch's seductive voice whispered into his ear, "Lay down, Starsky.  I want to give you that massage."

Sighing happily, Starsky slid down to a prone position on the bed.  Hutch straddled his backside, setting to work soothing the firm muscles of his back.  He took his time, enjoying the sensations of his fingers gliding through the oil, the warmth of his skin, the hardness of the muscles, the softness of his behind.  The sense of Starsky completely surrendering to his ministrations by relaxing gave Hutch a satisfaction and pleasure. 

Hutch was lost in his work, memorizing the feel of the body beneath him.  It startled him to hear Starsky's voice, "This is great, Hutch, but if ya keep this up I'm gonna fall asleep."  He was smiling sappily.

"So fall asleep," Hutch grinned.  "We've got the whole weekend.  We can take our time."

"Uh uh," he retorted.  "My turn."  He turned to his side and reached for the oil.  Hutch turned over the requested bottle, then slipped into the place that his friend had vacated.  

Starsky was good at this.  He alternated between serious massage and soothing caresses.  Hutch melted under his spell.  He sat back lower, just behind Hutch's rear end, to work the lower back and hips, progressing up his back.  As he did so, his own erection eventually found a nice little crevice to nestle in, between the cheeks of Hutch's ass.  Aware of Starsky's phallus, Hutch clenched and unclenched his cheeks, feeling his own skin caressing the sensitive cock.   Instantly, Starsky ceased his actions, pulling away.  At first Hutch was amused that he sparked a strong reaction from him, but then grew concerned that he pulled away.  He was about to turn, to find out what had happened to Starsky, when he once again felt him behind, slipping further down the bed.  Hutch settled back in, assuming the massage was going to continue down his legs.  But Starsky firmly clasped Hutch's hips, and slid himself down, spreading his partner's legs with his body. 

It was Hutch's turn to be surprised as he felt his partner's teasing tongue dipping between his cheeks, trailing lower until he settled on arousing Hutch with an erotic and intensely personal stimulation that he had never experienced before.  As Starsky witnessed Hutch grasp the headboard to hang on for dear life, he grinned.  I'll deliver ecstasy, partner.  If I can't have you, I'll make sure you never forget me.

~*~

Hutch awoke to the sunrise.  He stretched like a cat, feeling deliciously satisfied.  He glanced over to his partner, sprawled out in a tangle of sheets, looking peaceful and happy.  Hutch smiled at him.  Starsky had completely blown him away, proving himself to be an immensely creative and skilled lover.   He may have never been presented with a male lover before, but he made up for his inexperience with zealous experimentation and affectionate playfulness.  No doubt about it, sex with Starsky was incredible. 

They had allowed their competitiveness into their sex, enjoying a power struggle that they had never indulged in previously with a bed partner.   Hutch laughed to himself, remembering wrestling Starsky until he finally pinned him to the bed.  The powerful man had nearly toppled him, but finally Starsky had given up and admitted defeat.

Starsky laughed.  "Okay, Hutchinson," he panted.  " I give.  Whadda ya want?  Ya want me to say uncle?"

Breathless, Hutch had him pinned not only with his body but with his eyes.  "Nope," he shook his head, sprinkling the pinned man with his perspiration.  "Tell me you're not going to New York,"

"Okay.  You're not going to New York."

Hutch bowed his head, then growled and bit Starsky in the shoulder, chomping down until he yelped.

"Okay!  Okay!" he laughed.  "I'll stay!  Alright?"

Hutch released him, tending to the wounded flesh with his soothing tongue.  Starsky started to squirm under his ministrations.

"Hey Hutch?  That kinda tickles.  Hutch??  HUTCH!"

The blond head lifted, revealing a devilish smile.  "Where else ya ticklish, Starsk?"

"Oh hell," he chuckled.  "I think I'd rather be bit."

It wasn't long after that the tables were turned, and with Starsky on top, it was Hutch that was admitting defeat.

"Okay Starsky, I give.  You want me to say uncle?"

Starsky shook his head.  "No, Hutch.  I wanna stay the whole weekend.  Tell me ya want me to stay."

Hutch chuckled.  "You don't get it Starsk.  You're supposed to insist on something I don't want to give.  I have no intention of letting you leave."

His partner stirred beside him, his hand seeking out and settling on Hutch's chest, just over his heart.  Hutch covered the hand with his own.  It brought to mind Starsky's declaration.

"You were wrong, Hutch."

"What's that Starsk? Wrong about what?"

"You said the reality wouldn't be as good as the fantasy.  You were wrong.  This is better."

  The hand on Hutch's chest began to rub little circles on his chest.  Soon, Starsky emerged from his sheet cocoon to lie atop Hutch, a Cheshire grin on his face. 

"Good morning," Hutch smiled.

"You're up early," Starsky observed.

Hutch thrust his hips upward, his erection making delightful contact with his partner's.  "Could say the same about you," he quipped.

"Thinkin' 'bout last night."

"Yeah?"

"You called me David."

Now there was a visual image.

"Oh God," Hutch cried. 

His cock was encased in Starsky's mouth, that tongue making him crazy, his lust-darkened eyes watching Hutch with amused pleasure.

"You're amazing." He ran his fingers affectionately through the soft dark curls.

"Mmmm?"  The vibration of his voice caused Hutch to reach up and grip the rungs of his headboard.

 Starsky's fingers were stroking him inside, and Starsky curled his fingers upward slightly, coming into contact with Hutch's prostate. 

The sensation overwhelmed him, sending him over the edge. He came into his partner's eager mouth, shouting, "DAVID!"

"I did?" Hutch asked.  "I called you that?  I don't recall," he lied.  Starsky began to kiss his neck, inching his kisses upward.  Hutch could feel his hot breath at his ear.

"I like the way you said it," he stated in a lusty voice, just before nibbling at an earlobe.  "I could hear your love in it."

"Don't get used to it, Starsky," he teased.

Starsky hovered over his face.  "I'm gonna make you say it again."  It was a promise.

"Maybe in here, but you'll never hear it outside this bed.  I'm just not in the habit of calling my bedmates by their surnames."

Starsky gave him a huge smile.  "You're in love with me, Hutchinson.  You can deny it all you want, but I know you are.  You'll say it.  One day you'll slip, then you won't be able to deny it anymore."

Hutch laughed.  "Pretty sure of yourself."

"I'm gonna make you say it."

"Try."

Starsky eagerly took him up on the challenge.

~*~

Epilogue

Hutch whipped his car into the spot beside his partner's Torino, and leapt out into the chaos of vehicles and men.  Dobey flagged him over to where he stood, surrounded by a group of officers and SWATs.

"Whatcha got Cap?" Hutch asked.

"We got a hostage situation here, Hutch.  Some crackpot from the Sons of Freedom has gone into the gun shop to steal a wagonload of weapons.  He's got a gun, and he's strapped himself with some kind of explosives.  There were about 8 people inside at the time.  We got him to let the hostages go, all except a little girl.  Starsky's in there now, trying to talk him into releasing her."

"Sons of Freedom?  Isn't that one of those militia movements?  They think the government is interfering with their right to bear arms and establish a militia."

"Yeah, and they're dangerous.  This guy's crazy, unstable.  Even the SF is denying any association with him.  They've washed their hands of him.  His name's Clayton Prim."

"What's Starsky doing?"

"Starsky concealed a weapon in his wasteband, then made a big show for the guy of taking off his holster and coming in unarmed.  Something went wrong.  We heard shots, but we've seen in there and Starsky is okay.  So's the girl.  This guy needs to be taken out, but we can't get a clean shot at him, especially with all the explosives, and we have the hostage to worry about."

"I'm goin' in there, Cap.  Is there a back entrance?"

"He's got the back entrance blocked.  You can't get in that way.  Front door is bolted, and there's a bell when you enter.  The SWAT boys are trying to get in through the roof, but they haven't gotten in yet.  They're also checking on getting in from the building next door."  Dobey turned to the uniformed officer at his right.  "Get this man a vest!"  The officer hurried off.

"Is Starsky wearing a vest?"

"He went in before I got here, son."

Hutch frowned.  He knew Starsky wouldn't have bothered.  He looked over at the gun shop's window, wondering how his partner was faring.

Starsky had his gun drawn, and was creeping low to the ground around the shelving units toward the back of the shop.  As he came around a corner, he caught a glimpse of the child, standing at the gunman's feet.  She looked terrified, but in otherwise good condition.  The gunman was mostly hidden behind the back counter and the rack that sat on top of it, but the girl was near the edge in plain view from his position.

She spotted Starsky and her eyes grew big.  He put his finger to his lips to warn her to be silent.  She gave him a shaky smile.  Starsky crooked his finger to her, but she turned her head toward the gunman, then looked back with a fearful look.  He knew she could not get away from him.  Starsky held up his hand, palm out, to tell her it was okay to stay.  He held up his gun so that she could see it, then he covered his ears.  She gave a slight nod.  Then he indicated with his hands that she should get down, holding them out palm-down in front of him and lowering them quickly to the ground.  She gave another slight nod.   Starsky waved to her, then drew out of sight.

"Where are ya, pig?" the gunman called out again.

Starsky had backtracked to the other side of the store.  "Let her go, Prim!  Give this up.  You're never gonna get out of here alive if you try to take her."  After giving up his location, Starsky made his way back to where the girl was.

Prim turned toward the direction of the voice.  He fearfully scanned the shop in that direction, trying to catch a glimpse of the cop.  "Show yourself, pig!  Or I kill the kid!"

"Prim!" Starsky shouted, as he popped up and took aim.  He pulled off a shot as Prim turned his gun in his direction, and hit his mark.  The child had heard the shot, and bolted from the gunman, keeping bent over and low as she scooted for the safety at Starsky's side. She ran into Starsky's arms and he whisked her out of sight.

"What's your name, sweetheart?" Starsky asked the frightened child.

"Emily", the girl replied, near tears.

"Well, ya did real good there Emily.  Ya did just what I wanted ya to."  He gave her a big smile, and she smiled back.  He saw she was shaking, so he pulled off his leather jacket and wrapped it around her like an oversized cape.  "I'll be right back.  Gotta make sure the bad guy can't hurt us anymore, okay?  You stay right here and don't move."  She nodded.

Starsky made his way to the back counter again, and could see Prim's feet splayed out behind the counter.  Cautiously he approached, seeing the gun had been thrown several feet away when he was shot.  Prim was still alive, but he had been shot in the chest.  His eyes were full of fear when he looked up to Starsky. 

"Get out, cop," he said in a weak voice.  He turned his hand so that Starsky could see the detonator in it.  "This'll blow if I let go.  Can't hold it much longer..."

Starsky bolted from the spot.  He ran to Emily, pausing only long enough to pull his coat up over her head and wrapping the jacket tightly around her.  He pulled her into his arms and ran for the front of the store.  He ran straight for the front window, firing several shots at the glass as he ran.  After emptying the gun into the glass, he tossed it aside and pulled Emily tight to his right side.  He leapt at the glass turning his left shoulder into it, trying to protect the child, as they crashed through.

Hutch looked up alarmed when the first two shots rang out.  He quickly finished putting on the vest and his shirt, and trotted over to Dobey.  "Captain!  I'm going in the front!"

"No, Hutch!  It's too dangerous.  I want you..."  Dobey was cut off by the sound of gunfire, multiple shots toward the front of the store.  Both men were stunned to see Starsky come crashing through the front window.  Just as his feet hit the ground, an enormous explosion burst forth from the gun shop, spraying debris in all directions.  Due to the earlier gunfire, most vehicles and personnel had been pulled back from the storefront, and were clear of the path of destruction.

Hutch screamed "DAVID!" and ran for the crumpled form of his partner, sprawled on the pavement.

He found him gasping for breath and bleeding from numerous wounds, his back and side peppered with shards of glass and shrapnel.  He pulled him back slightly to see his face, finding his body wrapped around the child bundled in his jacket.  "David!  Thank God you're alive.  I'm here."  Hutch pulled the girl free, and she dove into his arms, crying but apparently unharmed.  A uniformed officer relieved Hutch of the frightened child to take her to her mother.  He turned back to Starsky, who was still trying desperately to get a breath.  "You okay, buddy?"

Starsky nodded, unable to speak, still lying limp on the ground.  Hutch cradled his face, telling him,  "I think you got the wind knocked out of you."  Starsky nodded once.  "Don't lean back," Hutch warned, "there's a lot of glass back here."

"Hutch," he gasped.  "Em'ly?"

"The girl is fine.  You got her out safe and sound."

"Can't see.  Burns."

Seeing the blood that had poured down his face and across his eyes, Hutch pulled a handkerchief from his pocket.  "You got some blood in your eyes, pal.  That's why they're burning.  Hang on, I'll get that for you."  He gently wiped away the blood, then pressed the cloth to the gash at his eyebrow.  Hutch was relieved when he saw the clear blue eyes gaze up at him.  "With all this glass, I'm afraid to pat you down, Starsk.  Can you tell me where you're hurt?  Were you hit?  Anything broken?"

"Not shot," Starsky replied, finally getting his breath back.  "My leg...think it's broke."  He began to take some deep breaths.

The paramedics arrived and Hutch passed on the information about his leg.  They loaded the wounded man into the ambulance.  Hutch climbed in to join Starsky, who was lying on his right side, facing away from him.

"Hutch?"

"Right here, buddy."  Hutch gently squeezed a spot on his arm that looked free of injury. 

"We alone?" 

"Just you, me and the EMT, pal.  You okay?"

Starsky smiled.  "You love me."

Hutch chuckled. 

"You love me, Hutchinson.  Heard you.  Called me David."  He had a big goofy smile on his face.

"Starsk, you must've taken shrapnel in those ears of yours.  I never said that."  His voice was amused.

"You love me!" Starsky was getting louder, and happier. 

Hutch gave an embarrassed glance to the pretty EMT beside him.  She smiled and gave him a wink.

"Admit it, Hutch."

The EMT spoke up.  "David, if I tell you I love you, will you come home with me?"

Starsky laughed again.  "Sorry, lovely lady.  The beautiful blond there stole my heart.  Ain't got eyes for anybody else."

"Aw shucks," she playfully pouted.  "Why're all the cute ones taken?"

Hutch laughed.  He stood over his partner and placed a careful kiss on his lips.  "Yes, I love you, David."

The End