False Accusation (chapters 1 - 12)

by Lutra Cana (07/23/2000)

Time crawled by. The silence grew until he wanted to scream just to hear something other than the words flying around in his head. But he didn't. Mostly because he was afraid that someone would come and throw a net over him. That he'd prove to them that he really was nuts.

*****

The day that started the whole thing was a relatively normal one. The weather wasn't great, but at least the heavy rains had stopped and a person could cross the street without getting soaked in the process. Hutch had picked him up in his newest old car. A cranky beast decorated in varying shades of primer, chipping brown paint, and rust. But at least this one ran. Sort of.

Starsky's car was in the shop. Again. Since Gunther, the car had never been the same. Try as Merle did, he just couldn't seem to find what was making the car stall out at intersections and what the terrible rattle under the hood was. Starsky was afraid that his car was on its last legs, so to speak, and he'd have to start looking for a new one. Not that the idea of a brand-new car wasn't appealing, but he loved the old Torino. It was almost as much part of the team as either he or Hutch. It had protected them many times from rain, other cars, and the more-than-occasional bullet. And it had saved Hutch's life that day in the garage.

Perhaps the most important thing it had ever done in its life.

They'd been driving for a bit when Hutch dropped his bombshell. He was leaving.

"What do you mean, you're leaving? Leaving what? LA, the department, the country? me? And why?" Starsky felt as if someone had reached in and ripped his heart out. The fear that simple statement left in him hurt almost as much as all of Gunther's bullets together had.

Hutch, stopped at a red light, and looked away from him. Granted he was checking traffic, but still.... "Don't get melodramatic, Starsk. I'm not leaving the department." Starsky almost fainted with relief. "I'm going home for a bit. Just a week or so. My parents are going on a tour of Europe and they want to see me before they go. They're going to be gone for a year; can you believe that? They want me to help them close up the house and put some of the more valuable stuff in storage. Or take some of it home with me."

"Oh." Starsky couldn't think of anything more clever than that one word answer.

"I already cleared it with Dobey. Got the plane tickets and everything. I do have one favor to ask of you, though." Hutch pulled away from the red light and turned towards the station. He glanced over at Starsky and smiled the smile that always made Starsky catch his breath. And wish, once again, that things could be different.

"Sure, name it. What'cha want me to do? Water your plants or something?" Starsky tried to sound nonchalant in spite of his red face and the definite ache in his stomach.

"Come with me." Hutch was still smiling and looking at him for his reaction. Starsky had to point out the car that had stopped in front of them to park. Hutch slammed on the brakes just in time.

"Come with you? To Duluth? Why?" He found himself thinking that he was asking an inordinate number of questions this morning.

Hutch, looking straight ahead now for other cars that dared to get in his way, blushed. Which Starsky found more than interesting. His stomach hurt a little more. "Because you've never been home with me and my mom keeps asking me about you. My parents want to meet the person who I spend most of my life with." Hutch hazarded a glance. "We've been friends for over ten years and you've never met them. They're curious is all."

Starsky couldn't help but snicker. "You mean you're taking me home to meet your folks? What's next, an engagement ring?" The snicker died a choking death when Starsky saw the look that crossed Hutch's face. A look of fear mixed in with more than a little apprehension. "Hutch?"

Pulling into the police station parking lot, Hutch wouldn't look at him. Instead, he did his usual surveillance of the area. Something he started the day Starsky came back to duty. Stopping the clanking LTD in his space, Hutch turned off the ignition and held the key in his hand, examining it as if he'd never seen it before. Starsky tried again.

"Hutch?" He reached out a hand and laid it on top of the one holding the key in Hutch's lap. "C'mon, partner. Talk to me."

Swallowing, Hutch looked down at their hands in his lap. Then he looked up at Starsky and smiled. A sickly smile, but it was a smile and that gave Starsky hope. "Yeah, guess I am taking you home to meet the folks. I want them to see how important you are to me and why." He laid his free hand on top of Starsky's and gripped it. "I want them to meet the man that I love better than I've ever loved anyone. If you'll let me, that is."

"Huh?" Starsky couldn't believe what he was hearing. Was Hutch really saying what he thought he was? What he prayed he was?

"I'm telling you that I love you, you moron, and all you can say is 'Huh'? Damn it, Starsky. Is it so hard for you to understand that I care about you? Beyond simple friendship?" Hutch was getting mad, something he did when he was embarrassed or afraid he'd committed a serious breach of propriety.

Starsky shook his head, his eyes never leaving Hutch's. Eyes he dreamed about at night. In those fantasies that embarrassed him in the light of day. And in the face of his partner's innocence. And now here they were, his "innocent" partner saying the very words he'd wanted to a thousand times over the last year since he woke up in that hospital. Since God, the fates, or just blind luck had granted him a second chance. And he was speechless. From fear or joy, he wasn’t quite sure.

Searching for his suddenly errant voice, Starsky tried to think of what this meant. Was Hutch *really* saying that he loved him the way Starsky loved Hutch? Or was it the "best buddies" and "I'd die for you" kind of thing they'd always had. What was Hutch really saying? And what if he chose wrong? Lord.

Then Hutch did the one thing that convinced Starsky that he wasn't dreaming, wasn’t having a hallucination, or simply mistaken. Hutch lifted the two clasped hands, his and Starsky's, to his lips and kissed Starsky's palm. Looked at him with those summer sky blue eyes and waited.

Starsky finally found his voice and dragged it out of the dark. "My God. Hutch?" Damn, another question. Smarten up here. "I...uh...." His voice deserted him. Again. If they hadn't have been in one of the most public places on the face of the earth he would have grabbed Hutch by the ears and showed him that he understood exactly what that gesture meant. Instead, he had to settle for a goofy, love-struck smile and hope it was enough.

Apparently it was, because the answering smile that lit up Hutch's face was bright enough to blind the man at the receiving end. The two of them sat and stared at each other for what seemed like years until a loud horn blast just behind them alerted them to their precarious position. Sitting, holding hands in full view of a hundred or so fellow cops was probably not the smartest thing to do. Dropping Starsky's hand, Hutch reached across and patted his shoulder. A gesture so platonic in its nature that if Hutch hadn't winked at him, he would have thought that maybe the last few minutes really had been a hallucination.

"So, you coming with me, partner?" The way Hutch said the word, partner - a word he'd heard a dozen times a day since the beginning of that partnership - made his palms sweat. So full of love, challenge, and innuendo that it was all Starsky could do to nod in answer. And try not to swallow his tongue.

*******

The next couple of days were hectic. Neither of the partners had time to do anything about their new discovery as they were just too busy. Or too tired. Dobey wanted them to either close all their outstanding cases or make sure that the files were in order so that another team could continue with them. This created hours of over-time while they typed reports, chased down leads, and tried to bring the detectives taking over their caseload up to speed. By the time they left the precinct at the end of each day, neither of them was in any shape to pursue the shifting of their relationship.

In a way, it made the whole concept that much more exciting.

Starsky found himself daydreaming about his partner and what he'd do to him when he finally got him alone. When he had enough strength to do what he wanted to do to him when he got him alone.

He also found that he felt very shy around Hutch. He noticed things that he never allowed himself the privilege of noticing before. Like the way Hutch pushed his hands into his back pockets when he was standing in front of the candy machine trying to make a decision. Or the way that one strand of hair fell into his eyes when he leaned over the keyboard. How Hutch put on his jacket or tightened his holster across his shoulders. Little things that Starsky had probably seen a million times but never paid attention too.

Even started to notice how long Hutch's legs were, or how nice he looked in black. No...not *nice*. Damn sexy. The one time that he caught himself staring at Hutch's crotch threw him. Not that he'd never "looked" before. Men do that. But that he'd never "thought" about it before. Not with the conscious part of his brain, anyway. Although he'd been having fantasies about them being together, he'd never progressed much beyond grabbing Hutch and kissing him silly. Maybe a little "gropie-feelie" but nothing beyond that. He'd just never allowed himself before.

But now, he had permission from the object of his desires to think beyond that. To think about what two men who loved each other in a sexual way could do to each other. And it embarrassed him.

Somehow, he had trouble even thinking about touching Hutch like that. Down there. Or about Hutch touching him. Not that Hutch hadn't helped him a few times when he was in the hospital or after he came home, to take care of basic functions. But that was different. Hutch always did it in a purely clinical, detached manner. Just as if Starsky was any old patient and Hutch his nurse.

Now there wasn't going to be anything clinical or detached about anyone touching anyone. It was going to be very personal. And Starsky didn't know how to begin the process. What the hell did men do together? He'd never thought about it. Never allowed himself to think about it. When John Blaine died, and he'd learned that his old mentor had been a poorly closeted gay man for years, he'd almost felt sick at the concept. When they'd been at Sugar's club and he'd watched the patrons, he always wanted to wash afterwards. He knew at the time that he was being insensitive. A total ass about it, but the years of ingrained homophobic training that he'd received on the streets of Brooklyn and then in LA made it difficult to think any other way.

And now, here he was. About to cross a line that he'd always backed away from with fear and loathing. About to become his partner's - his male partner's - lover. Which, in the eyes of society and everything he always believed, made him as gay as any of those guys he'd seen at Sugar's. It was a difficult idea to come to terms with. Him, good ol' David Starsky, the stud of the Metro division, about to throw that all away for the love of one man.

There were times in the last couple of days that he felt as if he were at the epicenter of a seven point nine earthquake.

The one thing that amazed him more than all of this thought process was how easily Hutch was taking it. Hutch, who Starsky had always considered straighter than straight, was totally comfortable with this new arrangement. It was Hutch who slipped him little gifts. A chocolate bar here, a little love note there. Who looked around to check when he picked him up in the morning, then gave him a quick buzz on the cheek. Who, more than once, ran his hand up and down Starsky's leg when they were driving somewhere.

Maybe it was just as well that they'd not had the time, energy, or opportunity to consummate the relationship. Starsky wasn't really sure if he was ready for that. In spite of having craved it for the better part of a year. In spite of the shivers that crawled up and down his spine, then rested in a particularly vulnerable spot whenever Hutch and he touched. Even the most casual of touches made him so...so...aroused...that he had a hard time concentrating on work.

Starsky knew if they didn't *do* something, and damn soon, he was going to burst. Or scream. Or grab Hutch and screw him right on Dobey's desk. None of which would be very productive things to do.

He was more than thankful when the last day of their enforced work marathon ended and they were on the way to Duluth.

***

The plane ride was interesting. To say the least. Hutch had gotten them seats in first-class. When Starsky objected to this rather extravagant waste of money, Hutch had smiled that enigmatic smile of his and said, "Dad's paying for it. And a Hutchinson always goes first class." Okay, fine. Who was he to argue with Hutch's dad?

The seats in first-class were plush. The food better than coach, and the stewardesses a lot more attentive. None of which Starsky paid the least attention to. Mostly because Hutch was too darn distracting. Even though the seats were farther apart in first-class, there still wasn't enough room for Hutch's long legs. Not if he put them straight in front of him, that is. But if he shifted them to one side, he could sit more comfortably. Unfortunately for Starsky's state of mind, the only direction that Hutch - who was in the window seat - had to move his legs was towards Starsky's. Toward, under, beside. One time on top. All of which made Starsky very nervous. And more that a little turned on.

Starsky tried to sleep. And ended up watching Hutch napping instead. Tried to read a magazine one of the pretty stewardesses (whom he was pretty sure he'd dated - and maybe slept with - one time) brought him. But he found himself laying the magazine down on Hutch's knee that had sneaked its way onto his own just so he could touch the warm, corduroy clad flesh.

He went to the bathroom at least thirty times between LA and their stopover at the airport serving the Minneapolis/Saint Paul area, Starsky was sure that the stewardesses thought he had some kind of problem. Maybe was a dope fiend or something by the way they started watching him whenever he made the journey forward to one of the little cubicles. Where he'd lock the door, put the lid down on the toilet, and try to will his body to behave. The one time he really did have to use the bathroom, he almost peed on the lid because he'd gotten into the habit of putting it down the minute he stepped into the tiny space.

By the time they reached Minnesota, he was a nervous wreck. And Hutch looked as fresh as he had when they stepped on the plane in LA. Starsky could have gleefully killed him.

They had an hour wait for their connecting flight to Duluth and decided to spend it in a coffee shop overlooking the runways. Watching the take-offs and landings did little to relax Starsky. Hutch and he sat across from each other at a tiny table. So tiny that their knees touched. No matter how Starsky tried to avoid them, it seemed that one or the other of Hutch's knees was leaning against his. And then there was the time Hutch ran his foot up and down Starsky's leg, causing him almost to fall off the stool he was perched on.

"God, Hutch." Starsky hissed at his grinning partner. Taking a quick glance around to see if anyone had noticed, he turned to glare at Hutch. "Stop that. We're in public here."

"So? And what of it? No one knows us here. And I doubt anyone would really care what we did short of us actually getting naked and making out on the floor." Hutch leered at him. An expression that Starsky had never in all the years he'd known this man had turned on him. He could feel his face heat with the blush he was sure was as bright as one of those landing lights out on the field.

"Still. I'm sure they have morality laws in this state, and I really don't want to get arrested on the way to meet your parents. For crying out loud." Starsky was practically sputtering, such an unusual occurrence that it threw him almost as much as the mental image Hutch's statement made in his mind.

"You know, if I hadn't seen the way your mouth gets all slack and your eyes glaze over when you look at me, I'd think you didn't want us to be together." Hutch put a little extra emphasis on the word "together" making it very clear what he meant. The hurt look on Hutch's face prompted Starsky to reach across the table and lay his hand on his partner's arm.

"Aw, Hutch. You know I love you. I want to be 'together' with you so bad at times that I feel like I'm goin' die if I don't get to touch you. But there's a time and place for this stuff. No matter what we feel for each other, other people just don't see it that way. They think that two guys together is sick. And we need to be careful when we're in public." He tightened his grip on the strong arm under his hand and turned on one of his most brilliant smiles. "And my mouth getting all slack and my eyes glazing over ain't the only reactions I have when I look at you. Right now, I'm having a hell of a time sitting here because my jeans are suddenly too damn tight."

It was Hutch's turn to blush. Starsky took perverse pleasure in his partner's embarrassment as he watched the fair skin turn bright pink. He took some pity on his friend and patted Hutch's arm. "You wanta go for a walk? Maybe moving around and looking at the duty free shops will take our minds off of our predicament." He stretched the word "predicament" out with emphasis on the syllable "dic" just to see Hutch's face turn even pinker.

Nodding, obviously not trusting his voice at the moment, Hutch slid off his stool and waited while Starsky downed the last of his coffee. Jumping off the stool, Starsky placed his hand on Hutch's back just above the waistband of his black cords and let it linger there for a minute. It felt so good to be touching that warm space that Starsky almost felt faint. Letting his hand slip off was one of the hardest things he'd done in a long time. Even if he did let his hand *accidentally* graze Hutch's butt in passing.

They spent a pleasant half-hour snooping in the shops, gently teasing and flirting with each other. Starsky held a deep blue sweatshirt with a picture of a local landmark on it against Hutch's chest. Smiled sweetly as he commented how the color brought out the blue in Hutch's eyes. Smiled even more sweetly as he pushed just a little harder than necessary with his index finger against a raised nipple under Hutch's thin shirt. Enjoyed immensely the little gasp that resulted from that gesture.

Hutch took his turn at copping a feel by looping a fancy leather belt around Starsky's trim waist and holding it in place with one hand while he turned Starsky towards a wall mirror. Standing as close as he could, pretending to hang on to the belt, Hutch pressed himself against Starsky's butt. That just about made Starsky's knees buckle as he felt the warm mass trying to nestle against the back seam of his jeans.

It was almost a relief when they heard their flight announced and went to begin the last leg of their journey. To meet Hutch's folks and maybe, just maybe, find a quiet place to be alone.

*****

The plane that carried them to Duluth was a Turboprop and not nearly as luxurious as the bigger jet had been. Even though they still had first-class seats, they were smaller and closer together. So close, in fact, that Starsky felt as if Hutch was practically sitting in his lap. Their elbows kept bumping on the armrest and Hutch's leg lay warm down the entire length of his. The way Hutch leaned into his headrest the blond head might as well have been on Starsky's.

Luckily for Starsky's equilibrium, the flight was short, just over an hour. By the time they disembarked in Duluth, Starsky had memorized every word of the emergency procedures pamphlet just to have something to concentrate on besides the man leaning up against him. Trapping him between the window and that nice warm presence.

It took them almost longer to claim their luggage than the short flight had been. Finally snagging the last bag - a rather worn leather suitcase that had accompanied Starsky on many a trip to New York - they went in search of the rental car that Hutch had arranged for.

The blue sedan that the Avis clerk directed them to was top-of-the-line and Starsky entertained himself playing with the radio/tape player as Hutch negotiated their way out of the airport. Finally finding a station that wasn't country, he settled back and looked around at the passing countryside. Expecting to see nothing but cows and wheat fields, he was surprised to see that they were traveling on a modern highway and rapidly approaching rather large buildings.

"Uh, Hutch. I thought your parents lived on a farm." Starsky was puzzled by the lack of pick-up trucks and the multitude of luxury cars passing them in the other lane.

Hutch's rich laugh filled the car. "They used to. They sold it to one of my Dad's uncles years ago. Dad never was cut out to be anything but a gentleman farmer and he much prefers life in the big city. As does my mom. You'll see, Starsk. You won't have to eat your dinner by lantern light or go to the bathroom in a privy. We have all the modern conveniences in Duluth." He reached across and patted Starsky's leg, allowing his hand to linger just a moment before he slid the hand away from Starsky's thigh. Starsky missed that nice warm hand so close to the part of him that seemed to jump to attention everytime Hutch came near it.

"Ha, ha. That's not what I meant and you know it. I guess I just never thought about Duluth being a big city. Especially with all those stories about your Grandfather's farm and all. Even forgot my geography and that Duluth is on the Great Lakes. Guess that's why you were a Sea Scout, huh?" Starsky squirmed on the seat, trying to realign himself and move the seam that threatened to strangle him.

"Yep. We moved into the city the year before I started High School. I'd always been fascinated by the boats on the lake so it wasn't hard to convince my dad to let me join the scouts. The family owns part-interest in one of the bigger shipping companies in this area and I think Dad was hoping I'd want to work in the office or something. Sure fooled him." Starsky looked away from his scenery viewing at the sad sound of that last.

"Ever any regrets?"

The smile Hutch turned on him put to rest any of his own doubts. "None. If I hadn't decided that I wanted to be a doctor, I'd never have moved to LA. If I hadn't realized that medicine wasn't for me, I'd never have entered the academy. And if I'd never entered the academy, I would never have met you. And that would have been the worst thing that would never have happened to me. Believe me, babe, I've no regrets at how my life turned out. Not a one."

The rest of the trip to Hutch's parents' home was spent in warm silence. Starsky rested his arm along the back of the seat. His hand seemed to find the soft skin of Hutch's neck all on its own and stayed there until Hutch pulled to a stop in front of a large house.

"Well, here we are, Starsk. My parents' house." Hutch leaned back against the hand on his neck and looked at the brick and wood exterior with an unsettled expression on his face.

Starsky rubbed his hand up into the silky blond hair. "What's wrong?"

"Um? Oh nothing really. It's just I have never gotten used to this house." Hutch looked at his friend. "My parents bought this one about five years ago. Said that now that both Katie and I were on our own, that they didn’t need such a big house." His gesture took in the house and the rest of the neighborhood. "I've always figured that it was more that this is a better area than the old one. Or that there's too many memories at the old house that neither of my parents wanted to deal with." His sigh spoke volumes about an unhappy adolescence and the years of a strained relationship between parents and child. A relationship that had slowly grown closer as Hutch's family came to accept his choices in life. And a growing up of the prodigal son.

"It looks like a nice house, Hutch. Heck, it's about the size of the whole brownstone I grew up in and there were four families living there." Starsky grinned.

"Yeah. And maybe that's part of the problem with this house, Starsk. It's too damn big for two people. It's bigger than the other house. I keep thinking that my parents are hoping that one or the other of us kids will come back here to live. Or both of us. Give them another shot at being the kind of parents we all wished they'd been. And the kind of kids we wish we'd been, too."

"Well, you know you can't sit out here much longer, Hutch. I've seen that curtain move twice already. They know we're here." A thought occurred to Starsky. "Are you nervous about them finding out about us?" The look on Hutch's face told him all he needed to know. Starsky slowly removed his hand from its comfortable spot on Hutch's neck. "That's it, isn't it? You're scared."

"I'm sorry...."

"It's okay. Honest. Your parents leave in what? Four days? I can hang on that long if you need us to cool it. I won't say I'm going to enjoy it, but I guess I've waited this long, a few more days won't kill me." Now there's a lie and a half. Starsky tried to smile bravely, but he knew that it was more brittle than brave.

"No, Starsk, it's not okay. One of the reasons I wanted you here - maybe the most important one - is that I want them to know you. Know what you mean to me and accept it. Because that's the way it's going to be. Forever. You and me are going to be forever, Starsky, and they are just going to have to deal with it. I'm not going to hide the most important thing in my life from my parents anymore. I've done that for far too long."

Overwhelming pride at his partner's adamant words flooded through Starsky. He knew that Hutch loved him. He'd always known that. And he knew that the love had changed...grown...mutated...whatever...in the last couple of years into this magical thing between them. He knew that with every fiber of his being. But hearing Hutch say that they were forever sounded so wonderful that he didn't know whether he wanted to laugh with joy or cry from the beauty of it. He settled with turning in his seat, wrapping his arms around Hutch and hugging his as tight as he could around the gearshift and the cup holder. If it hadn't still been light enough to read, he would have kissed Hutch too. But he held back on that pleasure until they were alone. Some things just weren't for public consumption.

Releasing his partner, Starsky sat back and smiled. "I love you too. Now let's go in and tell them so. And maybe next week we can fly up to New York and tell my family. Of course, there's about a hundred of them and it'll take longer, but I can't wait to see their faces when they see the gorgeous blond I brought home with me." He laughed at the blush on Hutch's face. "You know, you're going to have to stop doing that everytime I pay you a compliment or you're going to wear yourself out. And I can think of far better ways of wearing you out than that, buddy boy."

"God, Starsky. At least let my parents get to know you before you say anything like that in front of them." If it were possible for Hutch to blush any harder, Starsky would have liked to have seen it. Refraining from giving in to the impulse to try, Starsky patted Hutch's cheek and reached to open his door. "Starsk?" Starsky turned back.

"Yeah?"

"I love you. Remember that. In spite of anything that might happen in the next while, remember that I love you more than life itself." All Starsky could do was nod at the intense look on his partner's face and watch him climb out of the car.

Hutch waved at the house and went around to the trunk to get their bags. Starsky got out and walked back to help him. Just as he reached the trunk, the front door flew open and a pretty blonde girl ran down the steps from the front door and raced to the car.

"Ken! Hey, Ken!" Hutch turned in surprise at the sound of his name.

"Rickie!"

Starsky stood back and watched the enthusiastic way the girl wrapped herself around his partner. He was surprised at the little thrill of jealousy that swept over him and was more than a little shocked at the voice in his head snarling, "Back off, sister. He's mine."

He managed to compose his face before the hugging stopped and Hutch turned back to him. Keeping one arm around the girl - Starsky realized that she couldn't be more than eighteen - Hutch smiled broadly at his partner.

"Starsk, I'd like you to meet my cousin, Rickie Lundstrom. Rickie, this ugly guy is my partner, David Starsky."

"Cousin, huh? Guess we know which side of the family got all the looks, don't we?" Much relieved, Starsky felt more gracious towards the young lady who had such a proprietary arm around his his partner's waist. Shaking the offered hand, he smiled benignly at her. "Pleased to meet you, Rickie. Hutch never told me he had such pretty relatives."

Rickie blushed as prettily as Hutch did. "Thank you, Mr. Starsky. Ken has told us so much about you, I feel like I've known you all my life."

"Hey - knock off the 'Mr. Starsky' stuff. You call me David or Dave. Heck, you can even call me Starsky if you want to. I don't mind." Starsky found himself liking this girl who looked so much like his partner now that he had the chance to look her over. Tall, coming to just below his chin, Rickie had long white blonde hair tied back in a ponytail. Wearing no makeup, a plain t-shirt, faded blue jeans, and sneakers, she could have posed for a "girl-next-door" advertisement. Her blue eyes, almost as pale as Hutch's, sparkled with laughter as she looked from her tall cousin to his partner.

"Okay. I don't feel right calling you by just your last name, but I've always liked the name David. If that's okay?" She looked up at Hutch for approval.

"You can call him just about anything, Rickie-tikki. Just as long as it's not 'late for supper'." Hutch laughed at his own joke. Ignoring the mock frown that Starsky aimed at him, Hutch let his cousin go and turned back to the trunk. Hauling out Starsky's two cases, he passed them to his partner.

Holding on to his own bags, Hutch locked eyes with Starsky. "Well, partner. Rickie was the easy one. You ready to meet my parents?"

Swallowing around the lump that had suddenly appeared in his throat, Starsky nodded. "Yep. If they're ready to meet me. I'm right beside ya, partner." Where I'll spend the rest of my life. God willing.

***

Rickie ran ahead of the two men and held the door for them. Shouting past them, her voice seemed to echo in the large foyer. "Aunt Helen. Uncle Richard. They're he-re!" Starsky smiled at the way she raised and lowered her voice on the last word.

"They were in the kitchen the last time I saw them. Just leave your stuff here and we'll go and see if we can round them up." Hutch and Starsky looked at each other and shrugged. Piling their luggage in a corner out of the way of the door, they followed Rickie's swinging ponytail down the hallway towards the back of the house.

They entered a kitchen that took Starsky's breath away. All gleaming enamel and highly polished wood, the room was huge. A refrigerator big enough to store food for a small nation stood in one corner. A stove with two ovens held court in the middle of a long counter. More pots and pans than he'd ever seen before, and other things he couldn't even begin to guess the use of, hung from a large overhead rack or lined the counters. A table nestled in a bay window completed the picture. He was in love.

Rickie looked around the room. "Hmm, they're not here. Maybe they went out into the backyard. Uncle Richard was going to barbecue some steaks for you guys on the deck. Maybe that's where they are. Why don't I get you something cold to drink and you go on out and see if they're there."

Shooing the partners toward the door, Rickie turned her back on them and headed for the refrigerator. The partners once again shrugged and followed orders. Hutch reached the door first and held it open for Starsky. Starsky smiled at him and stepped out onto the deck. Because he was paying more attention to how the evening sunlight made Hutch's eyes shine, he didn't notice what was in the yard until he saw those eyes widen and he turned around.

"Surprise!" Starsky took an involuntary step back and bumped into his partner. In the yard before him was a small crowd of people. All laughing at the expressions on the two men's faces. And more than half of them all blond, blue-eyed, and looking far too much like Hutch for Starsky's equilibrium.

"Hutch?" Starsky's whisper was drowned out by the noise the crowd was making. Satisfied with their surprise, they turned back to what they'd been doing before the guests of honor showed up. Which was laying waste to the huge spread laid out on folding tables under a large oak tree to one side of the yard. Two people separated themselves from the crowd and made their way to the pair standing half-in and half-out of the kitchen doorway.

Hutch stepped around Starsky and walked to the edge of the top of the deck stairs to greet his approaching parents. Starsky recognized them from pictures Hutch had shown him over the years. Richard Hutchinson was not quite as tall as his son, but had obviously passed on his square jaw and large build to his progeny. Helen Hutchinson was more delicately made, but her fine blonde hair and pale blue eyes matched Hutch's. To the watching Starsky, the three of them made a lovely picture as Hutch hugged first his mother, then shook hands with his father.

Putting an arm around the shoulders of his parents, Hutch turned back to Starsky. "Mom, Dad. I'd like you to meet Star...David. My partner. Starsk, my parents." They all smiled shyly at each other for a moment until a firm hand at Starsky's back pushed him forward.

"They're not going to bite, David." Rickie teasingly told him. "They've been pacing the floor all day waiting for you to show up."

"Me?"

"Yes, you. You don’t know how long we've wanted to meet you, David." Mrs. Hutchinson smiled at him. "And now, here you are. You know, Ken, you never told me what a sweet smile he has. Or how nicely he blushes."

"Well, Mom, some things you just have to see for yourself." Hutch stood back as his mother enveloped his partner in a hug. Starsky looked at Hutch over the lady's shoulder and grinned at the wink Hutch gave him. Then he was too busy shaking hands with his partner's father and being dragged around the backyard meeting an assortment of aunts, uncles, cousins, one sister, her husband, and their off-spring to pay much more attention to Hutch. There were neighbors, friends, and business associates of the senior Hutchinsons as well as a few old schoolmates of Hutch's mixed into the crowd.

By the time Starsky and Hutch met up again, an hour had passed and both men had eaten their way through a buffet the likes of which Starsky had never seen. Leaning on the deck railing, the partners watched as the combination Bon Voyage - Welcome to Duluth party guests enjoyed the warm evening. Although it was far more humid than he was used to, Starsky enjoyed being able to breathe in air not tainted by LA's ever-present smog.

"So, Starsk. What do you think of the Hutchinson clan?" Hutch leaned on one elbow and looked over at Starsky. Starsky, mesmerized by how the little lights strung around the deck and in the trees reflected in Hutch's hair, had to shake himself before he could concentrate on the answer.

"Well, they're not as loud as a Starsky family gathering, the food's a lot different, and your people are far more polite than mine. In spite of that, I'd say that our families are pretty much the same. Except for the hair. The only blondes in my family are the ones who've married in. Or found it in a bottle." Starsky grinned at Hutch and slid a hand a little closer to where Hutch's lay on the deck railing. "Never saw so many blondes in one place before. And so many different shades. I'll tell ya, it's enlightening." He ducked the smack aimed at his head. Catching the hand that swung by him, Starsky pulled Hutch a little closer.

"The one thing I keep thinking, though, is when are all these people going home so we can get some sleep? I mean, I know it's what? Two hours difference with back home, but bed sounds awfully good to me about now." Starsky stepped a little closer to Hutch, close enough that he could almost hear his partner's heart beating. "Aren't you about ready for bed too, Hutch?"

Whatever answer Hutch was about to come up with was derailed by the arrival of Mrs. Hutchinson. "Boys, what are you two conspiring about?" She stood with one hand on the stair railing, looking cool and motherly in the light spilling from a kitchen window.

Moving apart, the partners turned to face her. Starsky, praying that his red face wasn't evident in the low light, grinned at her. "Oh, nothing. Just comparing notes on families. I was just telling Hutch that your family is a lot more polite than mine. By this time, my Aunt Ida would have found out everything about Hutch. Including his hat size, and where he went to summer camp. Your family just smiles, tells me how happy they are to meet me, and goes about being nice. It's kind of a pleasant experience."

Hutch poked Starsky with his elbow. "Yeah, I've spent a few interesting visits at his Aunt Rosie's place. You get two or more Starskys together and you'd think you were in the middle of a riot. They all talk at the top of their lungs...." Starsky punched Hutch on the arm.

"Hey! We aren't that bad. Don't let him try and kid ya, Mrs. Hutchinson. He can get pretty boisterous when he lets all that blond hair down."

Mrs. Hutchinson laughed at the antics of the men. "You boys are so silly. And, David, please call me Helen. None of Ken's friends have called me Mrs. Hutchinson since they were in high school." She stepped up onto the deck and came to wrap her arms around each of their waists. "Now, before it gets any later, I'm going to show you two where your rooms are. I imagine you're tired after that long trip. I know you're still on LA time, but if you want to retire early, no one's going to be upset."

Hutch and Starsky looked at each other over her head and grinned self-consciously. "Well, we'd hate to break up the party, Mom." Hutch said as his mother walked them towards the door.

"Nonsense. Some of these people won't leave until the last piece of food is gone and the only thing left to drink is tap water. Which by the looks of things is probably only a couple more hours, anyway. Now, I'll show you to the rooms and you two can decide who takes what."

Helen gave Starsky an abbreviated tour of the house as she led the partners upstairs. They'd stopped to gather the luggage from the foyer and once to direct a rather inebriated guest to a bathroom. "It's a good thing he lives at the end of the block because he's in no shape to drive." Helen whispered to Hutch and Starsky as they all watched the man weave back down the hallway. They finally arrived at the end of the hallway on the second floor.

Throwing open a door, Helen ushered them in. "Now this room and the one next-door share a bathroom. I thought that you wouldn't mind that. We've pretty much closed up the rest of the rooms up here, but left these for last. Richard and I thought you could take care of these for us, Ken." Taking his nod as agreement, she showed them where the extra towels and bed linens were stashed and how the bathroom doors locked.

Satisfied that she'd done her duty as hostess and mother; Helen stood in the doorway of the first bedroom and smiled. "Get yourselves settled, then come back down to the party. Karl - that's my brother and Erica's father," This last to Starsky, "wants to give Richard and me a present for our trip. What he has in mind, I don't have any idea, but you know your Uncle Karl." With a little wave, she turned and was gone.

Starsky plopped down on the edge of the king-sized bed and puffed out a breath. "Wow, does your mom ever slow down?"

"Never known her to unless she was sick. And that didn't happen too often. So, partner which room do you want?" Hutch leaned against the wall next to the door and avoided Starsky's eyes.

"Hutch? What's wrong?" Starsky wasn't sure he liked the look on his partner's face. Nor did he like the distance between them. The physical one or the emotional one that suddenly seemed there.

"Nothing." Hutch glanced up from his perusal of his shoe. "Actually, that's not true. Starsk, all of a sudden, I'm wondering if this is such a good idea."

No, Starsky didn't like any of this at all. "What's not such a good idea, Hutch? Are you having second thoughts about us?" Oh, God. Is it over before it's even begun? Starsky stared in bewilderment at the stiff figure across the room.

Hutch jerked away from the wall and was in front of Starsky in a couple of quick strides. Sinking to his knees, Hutch grabbed one of Starsky's hands and laid it against his chest. "Not for one minute, Starsk. Not for one minute. And don't you ever think that. Ever." He looked down at their entwined hands then back up into Starsky's eyes. "I'm talking about telling my parents, now, about us. I keep getting mixed signals from them. One minute I think that they've already figured it out, then the next that it would kill them."

Starsky felt as if he'd forgotten how to breathe and Hutch had reminded him. They stayed like that, Starsky on the bed, Hutch leaning against his knees, staring into each other's eyes for a long minute. Hutch began to lean forward, very slowly, and Starsky found himself being drawn towards that beloved face. They were only inches away from their first real kiss and Starsky's heart was beating so hard, he could hear it vibrate through the room.

Then he realized the beating was actually someone banging on the closed door. Quickly followed by Rickie's voice. "Hey - you guys in there?" The partners stared at each other in disbelief, then Hutch burst out laughing. Laying his head against Starsky's chest for a minute, he shook with helpless giggles.

"I don't believe it. I don't frigging well believe it." Hutch pulled back from Starsky and wiped tears from his eyes. "We don't have to worry about telling my parents anything. This bloody family isn't going to leave us alone long enough to hold hands let alone make out." Pulling himself to his feet, Hutch patted Starsky on the shoulder and yelled at the door. "Yeah, we're in here. Give us a minute, will ya."

Starsky was in shock. Or something that felt darn close to withdrawal pains. He'd come so close to experiencing something he'd only dreamed of, and it had been snatched away at the last second. His stomach hurt. Or maybe the pain was a bit lower. He could only nod at the whispered, "You okay?" as Hutch reached for the doorknob and let his cousin in.

"Sorry to bother you guys, but Dad said to round up the family as he wants to make some kind of presentation. You feeling all right, David? You look kind of green." Rickie looked with concern at Starsky hunched over on the bed. Trying to will his body to reconnect with the brain in his head.

"Yeah. Fine. Think maybe I ate too much after all that flying. Or something." Starsky tried for pitiable instead of pathetic.

"You poor man. Did you eat some of those Swedish meatballs? I've told Auntie Julie she's going to kill someone one day with all the grease she uses to cook those things." Rickie's eyes were sympathetic. "You want a seltzer or something?"

Hutch, picking up on the ruse, interrupted. "That's okay, short stuff. That's what we were doing. I was just giving him something for his stomach. You run along and tell Uncle Karl we'll be right down." He almost pushed the girl out the door and gently shut it behind her. Leaning against the door, Hutch shook his head. "God, buddy. One more close call like that and we'll be out to the whole damn family. I think we'd better cool it until it's at least only us and my parents in the house."

Starsky was pretty sure that he could stand up now. "Yeah. I guess we should just try and stay apart for the rest of the party. It's too hard," he winced at the bad pun, "to be close to you without giving in to it. I want to wrap myself around you so bad every time I look at you I'm beginning to get worried that everyone will see it." He convinced his body to straighten up. "Guess we should go see what Uncle Karl's up to and pretend that nothing's going on. Lord, that's going to be tough."

"I know, partner. I feel the same way. What's say we just try and get through this evening and see what happens tomorrow? Maybe we can set up a rendezvous or something." Hutch waggled one lecherous eyebrow at the grinning Starsky.

"Stop that. Yeah. Tomorrow, high noon. Right here." Starsky pointed at the bed. Laughing at the absurdity of the whole situation, the partners left the room and went down the stairs to join the rest of the group.

*****

Another couple of hours passed and the party was starting to wind down. Most of the adults over thirty had adjourned to the warmth and comfort of the living room leaving the backyard and mosquitoes to the teenagers and those who thought they still were.

Still trying to avoid each other, Hutch had settled in the living room, deep in conversation with another of his relatives and Starsky had gone outside. Leaning once again on the deck railing, he watched the gyrations of the younger people dancing below. Sighing softly to himself, he thought back fondly to when he was still in his early twenties. A time when the only thing he had to worry about was his next conquest and staying one step ahead of the draft board.

I'd never want to be that young again. He thought. Not unless I knew what I know now. And not unless I had Hutch. The very thought of his partner made him warm.

"You look kind of wistful." A soft voice at his elbow broke into the developing fantasy of him and Hutch on a deserted island. Nothing between them but sunscreen and a little sand.

Barely refraining from jumping, Starsky turned to look at the girl standing beside him. Trying to remember a name, he smiled. Cindy? Connie? Chris? Yeah, Chris. "Chris, isn't it?"

The smile he received was a pretty one. If she hadn't been so obviously young and he so very much in love, he might have tried to pursue it. However....

"Yes, and you're Rickie's cousin's partner. Right?" Chris threw her long dark hair over her shoulder with a flick of her hand. "I remember a couple of years ago when Rickie brought this scrapbook to school that she'd made of her cousin Ken and his partner. Had all these news clippings and stuff. Was that you?" She laid a small hand on his arm.

Starsky decided that if he didn't overreact to the girl, she'd soon lose interest. "Yep, that was me and Hutch. I didn't know Rickie had kept a scrapbook. I'll have to ask her if she's still got it." He watched the girl flirt with him and had to smile to himself. Here he was, practically old enough to be her father and she was coming on to him. Her practiced gestures and the way she leaned seductively against the railing made him nervous. And not just because he had no interest in her. She was so obviously an innocent trying to appear older and more worldly than her years. Something that could get her into trouble and Starsky knew she wasn't mature enough to handle it.

"It's a pretty night, isn't it? Of course it's a lot different from LA, I imagine." Chris stood a little closer to him and looked up at the night sky. Her long black hair shimmered in the lights scattered around the yard and she looked very young and pretty in that faint light. "It must be difficult meeting so many people all at once. Some of Rickie's family can be pretty intimidating. I know Mr. Hutchinson always scares me. Is that why you came out here instead of staying with them?" Chris glanced over at him, her eyes shining dark in the gloom.

"No, just wanted some fresh air before I turned in. Hutch and I had a long trip and we've got a lot of work ahead helping his parents." He carefully stepped away so that they weren't standing so close together and her hand was no longer on his arm. This young girl was definitely making him nervous. In part because she *was* so young and pretty. But mostly because he'd always responded to young and pretty as naturally as breathing and now it seemed alien not to.

"You want to come down and dance with us? I bet you're a good dancer. I bet being from California, you know all the new dances. Not like those guys down there." She pointed with her chin in disdain at the teenage boys below them.

"How old are you, Chris?" Starsky asked as gently as he could.

"I'll be seventeen by the end of summer. But I'm very mature for my age. Not like those *children* down there." Chris didn't realize that her pout made her look very much like the youngest of those *children* jumping around to the music.

"That may be so, but I draw the limit at girls under twenty-five. Surely there's some nice young man down there who you'd rather spend time with than an old fossil like me." He smiled to take the sting out. Unfortunately, it only encouraged her.

"Oh, they're just *boys*. I haven't been interested in boys for years. I like *men*. Men who can carry on a conversation about more than sports and cars. Men who know how to treat a woman." She batted her eyelashes at him, trying to look seductive.

Oboy, little girl, have you ever picked the wrong guy!

"Honey, you seem to be a very sweet girl. And one day you'll meet some young man who will treat you as if you're the most special person in the universe. But I'm not that guy and you shouldn't be rushing things like that anyway. Enjoy being a kid, because being an adult isn't always what it's cracked up to be."

"But I'm tired of being a kid. I want to experience life and do things. Go interesting places and meet interesting people." Chris sounded as if she was being held captive by her adolescence.

"I know. I remember being seventeen and wanting nothing more than to be on my own and answering to no one but myself. But believe me, there are times when I'd give anything to be seventeen again and not have to worry about more than whether I got my homework done or not. You'll be all grown up before you know it and you'll wonder what the great rush was." Starsky leaned sideways against the railing and reached out a hand to cup the girl's chin. She looked at him with eyes gone wide and innocent.

"Chris, forget trying to grow up before you have to, and enjoy what you've got now. Believe me, there's nothing at all glamorous about getting up and going to work every morning, worrying about paying the bills or keeping one step ahead of your boss. What you have right now is what most of us adults wish we still had. Freedom. It's something that you'll lose soon enough. Believe me." He felt suddenly very old, and very tired. And more than a little sad. Starsky wasn't sure who he was sadder for, the young girl in front of him yearning to throw aside the yoke of childhood or himself for having lost it.

Something in the way she looked at him made him feel very paternal and protective. A feeling he'd never experienced before. Giving in to impulse, he leaned forward and kissed her gently on the cheek. "Go and have fun with your friends, sweetheart. Forget about old men like me and be young while you can." He released her chin and turned his back on her. Walking towards the kitchen doorway, he felt a wave of tiredness rush through him and wondered, not for the first time, when he'd gotten so old. Or maybe it was that he'd finally started to grow up. He wasn't sure.

***

Starsky stood just out of sight of most of the people in the living room, hoping to spot his partner. Maybe attract his attention and get him to leave the party with him. He finally spotted Hutch standing beside the unlit fireplace, holding a drink in one hand and gesturing with the other as he talked with his father. Not wanting to disturb them, Starsky left his observation spot and went up the stairs. He hoped that no one would think badly of him for disappearing from the party, but he really didn't feel like talking to anyone else tonight.

Since Gunther, Starsky tired quicker than he used to. The doctors had warned him that his old ability to work hard all day and party all night, and continue that for days on end, was gone. That the beating his body, and especially his heart, had undergone had taken that away forever. He might be able to carry it off for a day or two, but when he reached his limit, he had better learn to listen to his body. Tonight his body was screaming at him. Feeling like he'd run into a brick wall, Starsky made his slow way up the stairs and to the two bedrooms at the end of the hall.

The rooms formed a lopsided L-shape with the bathroom at the juncture of the two lines. Starsky and Hutch had left all the bags in the first bedroom Helen had shown them - the one on the long end of the L. Starsky entered the room and looked at the bed. Imagined his partner lying there and wondered if he should stay here. No, Hutch might feel funny about me being in the bed when he got here. Might make him uncomfortable.

Gathering up his luggage, he dragged his bags through the bathroom and into the other bedroom. It too was furnished with a king-sized bed. A chest of drawers against one wall, a small desk and chair under the window, and two nightstands with lamps completed the décor. Pleasantly painted in a pale blue with good art on the walls, it was without doubt the nicest guest room Starsky had ever seen.

Heaving the larger bag up onto the chair, Starsky fished out his bathrobe, a dark blue one Hutch gave him last Christmas to replace the one he'd worn out while convalescing. Hutch had told him, even then, that the color matched his eyes. Throwing the robe on the bed, Starsky opened the smaller bag and took out his shaving kit. Armed with the necessary bedtime requirements of toothbrush and pajama bottoms, he prepared for bed.

Coming back into his room, Starsky couldn't help but think how lonely that great big bed looked. Lonely and cold. Sighing at the unfairness of a life that could allow two people to fall madly in love then conspire to keep them apart, he turned off all but one bedside light and crawled into that cold, lonely bed. He lay there for a minute, thinking about how much he missed Hutch, then turned off the light and closed his eyes.

***

Starsky woke with a start. Bewildered for a moment by the unfamiliar bed and the unknown noises of a strange house, he lay tense, listening. Then relaxed when he realized what had awoken him was Hutch moving quietly in the bathroom. Starsky had left the door on his side of the bathroom open a crack. A thin thread of light seeped through that crack along with the sounds of Hutch's own bedtime ritual. Comforted to know that Hutch was only a few feet away, Starsky turned over and settled down to go back to sleep.

Only to find himself exhausted but wide-awake. Lying in the dark, listening to Hutch turn off the light, and go into the other bedroom. Listen to the bed creak as Hutch lay his long-limbed body down on it. Lay there imagining Hutch curling over on his side, wrapping the blankets around him. Hugging a pillow close under his chin. Envisioning Hutch's blond hair glistening in the faint starshine trickling through the curtains. Those long limbs stretched out across the surface of the bed, warm and strong.

Suddenly, Starsky couldn't stand being apart from his partner one more minute. Not one more second.

Crawling out of his own bed, Starsky crept through the bathroom and reached the door to Hutch's room. To realize that Hutch hadn't closed his door either. Smiling to himself, Starsky pushed the door open further and entered Hutch's room.

Hutch lay just as Starsky had imagined. All silvery and golden in the faint light. Lying on his side, facing the window. Eyes closed, one hand under the pillow beneath his head, the other hand lying palm up on top of the blankets. The mound of one shoulder mysterious under the blankets, the long length of body flowing in perfect symmetry from that shoulder to disappear in the puddle of darkness at the end of the bed.

Starsky approached the bed stealthily. He carefully lifted the blanket from where it draped over the edge of the mattress and eased himself under it. Inching towards Hutch, he gently grasped the hand lying open on the covers and laid its arm across his back. Snuggled close to the big warm body and closed his eyes.

"Huh?" A sleepy voice rumbled in his ears. "Starsky, what are you doing?"

"Nothing, Hutch. Go back to sleep." Starsky opened his eyes again, and placed a tired hand on the face looking down at him.

Hutch, leaning on one elbow, peered down at Starsky through sleep-hazed eyes. Blinking dowsily, he just looked. "Starsk, I'm too tired to do anything tonight. As nice as the thought is...."

"I just want to sleep with you. I'm beyond tired, partner. Please let me sleep in here tonight."

"Why?" Hutch pulled his hand off of Starsky's back and cupped Starsky's cheek.

"I missed you. That bed was too damn lonely and I missed you. Isn't that reason enough? Go to sleep, Hutch. Let me have this much of you tonight. Please?"

Hutch smiled down at him. Leaning forward, he brushed a chaste kiss on Starsky's forehead and laid back down. "Okay, babe. I can handle that. And hopefully tomorrow night we can do more than just sleep together." He wrapped his arm back around Starsky and drew him close. Contented that he was safe with the person he loved, Starsky soon fell asleep.

***

A soft but persistent knocking woke Starsky. Blinking, he looked at Hutch and grinned to note his partner was still fast asleep. Trying to ignore the person on the other side of the door, he peered over Hutch's shoulder at Hutch's travelling alarm clock on the nightstand. Surprised to see that it was seven-thirty, he sank back down beside his somnolent bedmate.

But the knocking didn't stop, and it was joined by an equally soft and persistent voice. "Ken. Ken, wake up dear. I need to talk to you."

Shit, it's Helen. "Hutch, wake up. Hutch, damn it - it's your mother at the door. Wake up." Starsky hissed at Hutch and shook him hard.

"Wha...? Stop it, Starsk...." A firm hand over Hutch's mouth served to both quiet and wake him.

"Shh. Your mom is out there and if you don't want her to find us in bed together, you'd better answer her. And quick." Starsky whispered. Rolling out of the bed, he beat a quiet and hasty retreat to the bathroom. As he was closing the door, he heard Hutch call out to Helen that he was awake and would be right there.

Grinning to himself, Starsky decided he might as well shower and get dressed. Whatever family emergency prompted Helen to wake up her son so early would probably require him too, so he might as well be prepared. Good thing Helen's not like my mother. Ma would have walked right in.

Starsky had barely gotten his hair wet when the shower curtain opened at the far end of the tub and Hutch's worried face appeared. "Hey, partner. Coming in?" Starsky joked through the warm spray.

"Starsky, finish up and get dressed. Come downstairs to the kitchen." Hutch's strained voice wiped the smile from Starsky's face.

"What's the matter? What's going on, Hutch?" Starsky turned off the faucets and stared at his partner while the water cooled on his body.

Hutch looked sick. And scared.

"There're police detectives downstairs. And they want to talk to you."

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