Drabbles: truthfully, once if strangers (S&H)
Title: truthfully, once if strangers
Author: Dorian Gray
Fandom: Starsky & Hutch
Pairing: Starsky/Hutch
Author's Notes: Written for stagesoflove, which I signed up for on a whim. I feel ambivalent enough about the results I debated whether or not to post them here. In the end my obsessiveness won out. I don't consider these drabbles a failure in that, on their most fundamental level, they do succeed in what I was trying to accomplish. I do consider them a failure in that they don't accomplish it very well. But, hey, that's the nature of experimentation. Title from e.e. cumming's once like a spark... (XXIV).
Attraction
The guy gets angry over criminology. All polite and soft-spoken right up until he's flat-out pissed at the thought that it's okay to pull somebody over just 'cause they're busy being black or young or poor, burning so white-hot, so off his rocker, you can see he's clean forgot there's anyone else in the auditorium except the jackass trying to tell him that just because the world isn't perfect, cops gotta make ugly compromises.
So when they get stuck together doing mock-ups, Dave looks past the expensive clothes and faintly condescending once-over, sticks his hand out and says, "Name's Starsky."
Romance
Starsky leans on the doorbell, because it annoys the hell out of Hutch, and there's just something in him that can't let go of a chance at getting under that cool blonde exterior.
And when Hutch opens the door, mouth pinched all tight and ready to let him really have it this time, Starsky shoves the six-pack under his nose. "I brought beer," putting his selling point out there fast.
Hutch blinks, like he's not used to feeling this many contradictory things at once, and Starsky watches him, waiting, not sure if he's gonna get kicked out or let in.
Passion
Starsky sees through the polite smile right off the bat, 'cause it feels like a handshake from somebody who doesn't want to so much as touch you. And there's the smug one -- tight and a little mean -- that makes Starsky wanna knock his block off. (He settles for laughing whenever something comes along to cut Hutch down to size.)
Hutch flops back on the grass, grins at him, face lit up like Vegas at midnight, and, man, if that isn't something else altogether.
There's a feeling like a warm palm pressing against his chest. Starsky grins back -- really, who wouldn't?
Intimacy
Hutch has plants, lots of plants, a whole windowsill full of them -- even has this dumb little spray bottle so he can mist them with a bunch of strange concoctions he swears by and god help you if you ever make the mistake of asking what's in them, 'cause he'll tell you. But one day, Hutch mentions, real casual, that his grandmother had loved gardening and reaches out, touching one of the bright green leaves.
Next Friday, when Starsky calls his mother, he doesn't put it off again until late just because Hutch is there in his room all afternoon.
Commitment
It's real late, lots of empty tables, nobody here but the two of them in a corner booth. Starsky kicks Hutch. "Know what'd be neat?"
Hutch looks over, already skeptical, like nothing Starsky could ever think of will be quite neat enough for him. "Hm?"
"Say we get partnered someday. Walkin' a beat. Cleanest, toughest cops in the city. Be neat, huh?"
Hutch takes a long pull at his beer, and says, "Yeah." That notch forms between his eyebrows, as though the finicky little jury inside him handed down a verdict he didn't expect. "Yeah... but what are the odds?"
Author: Dorian Gray
Fandom: Starsky & Hutch
Pairing: Starsky/Hutch
Author's Notes: Written for stagesoflove, which I signed up for on a whim. I feel ambivalent enough about the results I debated whether or not to post them here. In the end my obsessiveness won out. I don't consider these drabbles a failure in that, on their most fundamental level, they do succeed in what I was trying to accomplish. I do consider them a failure in that they don't accomplish it very well. But, hey, that's the nature of experimentation. Title from e.e. cumming's once like a spark... (XXIV).
Attraction
The guy gets angry over criminology. All polite and soft-spoken right up until he's flat-out pissed at the thought that it's okay to pull somebody over just 'cause they're busy being black or young or poor, burning so white-hot, so off his rocker, you can see he's clean forgot there's anyone else in the auditorium except the jackass trying to tell him that just because the world isn't perfect, cops gotta make ugly compromises.
So when they get stuck together doing mock-ups, Dave looks past the expensive clothes and faintly condescending once-over, sticks his hand out and says, "Name's Starsky."
Romance
Starsky leans on the doorbell, because it annoys the hell out of Hutch, and there's just something in him that can't let go of a chance at getting under that cool blonde exterior.
And when Hutch opens the door, mouth pinched all tight and ready to let him really have it this time, Starsky shoves the six-pack under his nose. "I brought beer," putting his selling point out there fast.
Hutch blinks, like he's not used to feeling this many contradictory things at once, and Starsky watches him, waiting, not sure if he's gonna get kicked out or let in.
Passion
Starsky sees through the polite smile right off the bat, 'cause it feels like a handshake from somebody who doesn't want to so much as touch you. And there's the smug one -- tight and a little mean -- that makes Starsky wanna knock his block off. (He settles for laughing whenever something comes along to cut Hutch down to size.)
Hutch flops back on the grass, grins at him, face lit up like Vegas at midnight, and, man, if that isn't something else altogether.
There's a feeling like a warm palm pressing against his chest. Starsky grins back -- really, who wouldn't?
Intimacy
Hutch has plants, lots of plants, a whole windowsill full of them -- even has this dumb little spray bottle so he can mist them with a bunch of strange concoctions he swears by and god help you if you ever make the mistake of asking what's in them, 'cause he'll tell you. But one day, Hutch mentions, real casual, that his grandmother had loved gardening and reaches out, touching one of the bright green leaves.
Next Friday, when Starsky calls his mother, he doesn't put it off again until late just because Hutch is there in his room all afternoon.
Commitment
It's real late, lots of empty tables, nobody here but the two of them in a corner booth. Starsky kicks Hutch. "Know what'd be neat?"
Hutch looks over, already skeptical, like nothing Starsky could ever think of will be quite neat enough for him. "Hm?"
"Say we get partnered someday. Walkin' a beat. Cleanest, toughest cops in the city. Be neat, huh?"
Hutch takes a long pull at his beer, and says, "Yeah." That notch forms between his eyebrows, as though the finicky little jury inside him handed down a verdict he didn't expect. "Yeah... but what are the odds?"