Title: Spinning
Author/pseudonym: Morgan and Jadis
Fandom: Starsky & Hutch
Pairing: S/H
Rating: R
Status: New
Feedback: Bring it on
Critique: Ya, you betcha!
E-mail address for feedback: m_jadis@hotmail.com or lefey_morgan@hotmail.com
Series/Sequel: Perhaps, a promise of things to come
Disclaimers: We don’t own ‘em. Wish we did. If so, there’d a been a lot less female guest stars!!! No money is being made, dang it!
Notes: Morgan and I write & "publish" in other fandoms. This is our first attempt (for public consumption anyway) in the S/H world. Constructive feedback/critique would be appreciated.
Summary: A small vignette where a kiss and promise hang in the air.
Spinning
A cheer went up from the small circle of detectives as the now empty champagne bottle came to a halt on the smooth linoleum floor.
"That thing is loaded!" Hutch complained bitterly, as he looked up to meet his partner’s mischievous cobalt eyes. Hutch colored underneath the look, the blush spreading all along his face. He knew without looking down that the blush would spread to his already bare chest, abdomen, and feet.
"It just knows what it wants to see, that’s all!" Starsky returned saucily. "Hope you listened to what your mother used to tell you about clean underwear, Blondie."
Linda Baylor choked noisily, as she tried not to laugh. Joan Meredith leaned over and filled the shot glass that sat innocently in the center of the circle. "Drink up, Hutch." The black woman teased gently. "I guess I’ll get to see the other half of this partnership after all."
Hutch leaned forward and picked up the shot glass, reaching as he did so over the piles of discarded clothing and holsters. "Now, my options are what exactly?"
Steve Martinez, a young detective on loan from another precinct grinned –his turn to blush.
"You know the rules." Starsky pulled himself up on his knees and met Hutch’s eyes challengingly; they sat opposite one another. "Strip or kiss me."
"I think I’ve been waiting to see that for longer than I’ve been waiting to see your beautiful blonde ass," Linda purred, "again."
"Very funny, Linda." Hutch warned as he, too, leaned up on his knees. "Well, Starsk –as a matter of fact, I don’t have any underwear on, so I guess it’s time to pay the piper. Starsk?"
Starsky reached out and grabbed his wrist just as Hutch started to take the shot. "Do it afterwards." He commanded, his voice husky.
"Why?"
"’Cause I want it to taste like you."
Meredith’s mouth fell open as she glanced over at Linda, whose eyebrows had flown almost to the back of her head. Martinez and his partner, Sheila Turner, were silent.
Hutch pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to clear his head, and then leaned across the expanse of kitchen floor, oblivious to the giggles and the words of encouragement coming from all around them. Starsky, however, leaned back and for a moment, Hutch wondered if the smaller man was actually going to make him crawl. There was something different about the look in his partner’s face –the blue eyes suddenly too dark. Just as Hutch could feel Starsky’s breath on his lips, the phone rang.
"No way!" Martinez shouted –relief and disbelief commingled in his voice.
"Saved by the bell." Hutch remarked as he pulled back, only to find Starsky’s hands clamped securely at his hips.
"Yeah, how did you manage that?" Linda groaned.
In one fluid movement, Hutch freed himself and then was moving into the living room. "Luck I guess." He remarked casually –too casually. It was suddenly warm in the tiny apartment. He was sweating.
Picking up the receiver, Hutch turned his back to the ribald comments behind him. "Hutchinson. Yes, Cap. Yes –we’re all here. What?!" Hutch glanced over his shoulder at the group of half-asleep, half-dressed and more than half-drunk detectives sitting in the kitchen floor who had all just pulled a series of double shifts resulting in a number of busts. "Captain Dobey, none of us are in any condition to drive." He sighed loudly. "No, I don’t want you to send someone out to get us. Yes sir. Okay. Goodbye."
When Hutch turned back around, the group of detectives had already started getting dressed.
"What’s wrong now?" Linda asked as she shouldered on the blouse that she’d lost by the third spin.
"Johnston’s lawyers are down at the station making a stink about police brutality and trumped up charges. Dobey needs us in now to make sure everything’s filed properly or they may all walk."
"We go in there smellin’ like this," Joan observed dryly, "they’ll walk for sure. When do we need to be there?"
Martinez handed his partner her gun. "We didn’t have that much to drink –we’ll get cleaned up over at Sheila’s. It’s on the way –we should be able to be there in under a half hour."
Hutch nodded. "Starsk and I can get cleaned up here. Linda, are you okay to drive? Joan?"
Linda nodded. "I’m fine –though a cup of coffee sure would help."
"Hey, Starsk, do you want to make some coffee while I jump in the shower?"
"Sure thing, Blondie."
Hutch threw him a grateful glance.
"Oh, Hutch?" Starsky asked, as he followed Hutch almost all the way into the bathroom.
"Yeah?"
"I’ll just hold onto your tequila –you owe me."
Hutch took in the gate that his partner had created with his arms stretched across the entryway.
"I owe you what?"
"A kiss."
"Come on, Starsk."
"What? You were the one who set up the rules."
"How was I supposed to know that that damn bottle would land on me ten out of a possible fifteen times? There must be some sort of strange break in that floor."
"Or luck."
Hutch watched in slow motion as one of Starsky’s hands came down to rest on the waistband of Hutch’s well-worn jeans.
"I don’t believe you, by the way."
Hutch swallowed. "Aren’t you supposed to be makin’ Linda some coffee?"
"I’m thinkin’ she knows where you keep the coffee. How come you never told me you slept with her?"
Starsky released the doorframe all together and then slid in between Hutch and the vanity so that he was inside the bathroom. As Starsky circled around behind him, his finely sculpted hand moved smoothly across the lines of Hutch’s pale abdomen. Hutch stood, mesmerized by the sight of them in the mirror.
"You really are drunk, aren’t you Starsk?"
Hutch watched as Starsky slid his hand into the front of his jeans –Starsky’s hands were hot against Hutch’s bare flesh; the touch almost as shocking as the image. Under the denim, Starsky’s hand rested solidly against his hipbone.
"I guess you weren’t kidding, huh?"
"It’s funny, Starsk," Hutch began nervously, "I didn’t realize that copping a feel in the bathroom was one of the options."
"I think there are a lot of options you haven’t considered."
Hutch grabbed Starsky’s wrist, hauled the darker man’s hand out of his jeans, and then turned around to face him. "What does that mean -exactly?"
Starsky ducked his head –seemingly unwilling to meet his eyes. "Nothing."
"Starsky? What’s going on?"
"Yeah," Joan’s deep voice, amused, shattered the tension, "what is going on? You wouldn’t believe the sight you two big men make standing in the john holding hands –it makes a woman want to weep."
Starsky laughed as he disentangled himself from Hutch’s grip. "Yeah, I keep telling him –but, what can I say, he can’t resist me." Starsky dropped a quick kiss on the center of Hutch’s bare chest, then wrapped his arm around his one time partner/one time lover’s waist and led her away. "So, Linda, got that coffee ready?"
Slowly Hutch reached up and laid his fingers on the spot where Starsky’s lips had touched him so briefly; the sound of his heartbeat echoed mockingly in his ears.