NS: All in a Day's Work - Part 2 of 2
So here's the rest. Get well soon, callistosh65 or I'm going to have to dust off even more old chestnuts . . . or start some odd crossover with Dean and Sam and Sam Tyler and Starsky and Mulder and Bodie . . .
All in a Day's Work - part 2 of 2
The night after the day Starsky fell in love with Hutch started out in a very different way.
Instead of going home, Starsky headed to The Pits. He slid onto the last barstool in the corner and ordered a beer and a shot.
“Where’s Hutch?” Joanna asked as she set the glasses in front of him.
“Don’t know. Home probably.”
Starsky watched her eyebrow rise, in a gesture that he was beginning to think was epidemic, and downed the shot. He was three-fourths the way through his beer when he felt Huggy behind him.
“Starsky - solo and stormy. You gonna drink all my booze tonight, aren’t you?” Huggy ran his hand along Starsky’s shoulders and tucked in behind the bar.
“You gotta problem with that?”
“Only if the blond shows up at the witching hour, wanting to paint some blame, point a finger - it’s Tuesday, Starsky, I got inventory.” Huggy placed two shot glasses and a bottle in front of Starsky. ‘What are we drinking to? For? From?”
Starsky downed his beer and reached for a shot glass. “I gotta have a reason?”
“No, I gotta have one. For the aforementioned Viking who will most certainly come to your rescue.”
Starsky filled his shot glass. “When did you get so scared of Hutch?”
Huggy took the bottle and filled his own. “About the same time you did. You gonna tell me?”
Starsky downed his glass - whiskey - and grimaced. “Nothing to tell.”
Huggy did the same and lifted the bottle, filling Starsky’s glass again. “You know, if you tell me you’re fighting over a female again . . .”
Starsky chuckled. “I wish. Huggy -“
“Stop right there, my brother. All is understood-“
“But, I didn’t say anything yet-“
“You’ve been shouting since you walked in the door. And now, we’re going to need something more substantial than the inventory in this bar. Joanna,” Huggy pulled keys out of his pocket and slid them down the bar to where Joanna was drying glasses, “close up, will ya? Me and the lovesick peace officer need to go drown ourselves in the liquor that dare not speak its name.”
“You going to Fric and Frac’s again?” Joanna slipped the keys in her pocket. “You know I don’t do bail money.”
“Don’t worry.” Huggy reached around and pulled Starsky’s badge out of his back pocket. “We’ve got this.”
Starsky swiped the badge back, hopped off the stool. “Hey, don’t I get a say in this?”
“Oh, you’ll get your say. We just got to figure out what that’s going to be before you know who shows up to kick the shit out of you know me. You know?”
*****
Fric and Frac’s was dark, smoky and full of men. Starsky stopped at the front door.
“Huggy, I’m not in the mood . . .”
“Which is why you’re here. To get you in the mood.” Huggy shoved him through the door and shouted to the bartender. “Tiny, your best love potion for my friend here.”
Tiny, the largest woman Starsky had ever seen, nodded and headed for the back room. Huggy pulled Starsky to an empty booth and shoved him in.
“Okay, Hug - I get it. Stop pushing me around.”
“I’m just claiming you. So as not to get yourself married to one of these fine upstanding citizens before I can get you back in shape and back to Hutch. You know what’s wrong with you, right?”
“I thought drinking at your place was a good idea?”
Huggy chuckled. “No, you got the love sickness.”
“Fuck off - I do not.”
“You’ve been coming down with it for a while now. After Rosie, I saw a bit of it and then that ballerina got in the way. Thought maybe I was wrong . . . but now - you’ve got a bad case.”
Tiny walked over and sat down a bottle and two glasses. The bottle had no label. And Tiny had no pants. Just a g-string. A loaded g-string. Tiny, the largest woman Starsky had ever seen, was actually a . . .
“You’re a guy?”
Huggy held up his hands. “Tiny, don’t worry - he’s not usually this . . . rude. He’s in L-O-V-E if get my drift . . .”
Tiny, whose hand had curled into a fist at the first words out of Starsky’s mouth, relaxed and smiled, unclenched his hand and patted Starsky on the head. “You poor fucker. You gonna cure him, Hug?”
“Nah, I’m gonna make him worse. Head him in the right direction.”
Tiny nodded. “Well, I’ll be behind the bar if you need me.”
Starsky took the bottle. “What the hell is this?”
Tiny turned around and grabbed the bottle out of Starsky’s hand and twisted off the cap. “Not yet, little man. Huggy’s going to have to monitor this.” He handed the bottle to Huggy. “Good luck - he seems like a hard case.”
Huggy poured a dark purple liquid into one glass. “Don’t you know it, my brother. Got all my hoodoo with me tonight.
*****
The day after the day Starsky fell in love with Hutch started out with dark glasses and a bottle of aspirin. Starsky found his shoes in the freezer and his jeans in the dryer. Snatches of events he was almost positive he never wanted to remember kept banging against his head and he hung it over the sink, hoping he wasn’t going to puke. He had to pick up Hutch in . . . ten minutes.
He finally gave up and stumbled to the bedroom, fell back into bed and grabbed the phone. When Hutch answered, all he said was, “you drive.” He hung up the phone and tried to remember if he had any clean jeans. The next thing he knew, Hutch was rubbing his arm, muttering.
“What the hell did you do to yourself this time, buddy?”
Starsky rolled over and put a pillow over his head. “Don’t ask. Can you just kill me now?”
Hutch chuckled and pulled the pillow off Starsky. “Not yet. Dobey called me - they’ve got Jeeters in lock-up and he’s squealing about getting shot by a cop yesterday - a crazy cop. Sound familiar?”
“I should’ve shot him.” Starsky sat up and then let the room catch up. He scrubbed his eyes and took his first look at Hutch. Standing there. Smiling at him, holding a pair of jeans. Starsky’s gut twisted and he felt himself falling. Hutch stepped forward and grabbed his shoulder, steadied him on the bed, and put his hand under Starsky’s chin and lifted it.
“You sure you’re okay? What did you do last night? Were you with Huggy?”
Starsky just looked into Hutch’s eyes and murmured, “Kiss me . . .”
Hutch jumped back, which allowed Starsky to slide off the edge of the bed. “What the hell?”
Starsky, having been coached for three hours by Huggy on this very part of the problem, just held up his hand. Hutch hauled him up, shoved the jeans against his chest and walked out of the room. Starsky quickly slipped into his jeans and followed him.
Hutch was pacing. Talking to himself. Gesturing. Starsky wanted to just let him go, see how many knots he could wind himself into. But Huggy said fast. Like a band-aid.
“Hutch, there’s something I need to talk to you about.”
Hutch stopped and pointed a finger. Frowned. Shook his head. Started pacing again.
“Okay, I can tell you while you’re moving. I love you.”
Hutch stopped again. “Quit saying that.”
“But I do.”
“I know - I love you, too. Haven’t we had this conversation already?”
“But you won’t listen to me. I love you. And that invitation to sample these goods,” Starsky ran a hand over his lips, “was not a joke. First thing I thought when I saw you this morning was . . . well, I, uh . . . damn, Huggy never told me about this part . . .”
“Huggy? Is this about Huggy?”
“No. He just . . . showed me the light . . . damn my head hurts.” Starsky stumbled on the rug and landed in the chair. “Come on, Hutch. I’m hung over as hell, I’m about to piss my pants from thinking you’re going to figure out I got the hots for you and head out the door never to return, and I’m pretty sure a giant named Tiny has my car. Give me a break, will ya?”
Hutch sank into the couch. Frowned. Muttered. Looked up at Starsky and smiled.
“What? You think I’m whacked?”
Hutch shook his head. “I think I’m whacked. Should’ve seen this one coming.”
“What does that mean? I just figured it out yesterday.”
Hutch got up. “That’s why you acted like a moon head all day?”
Starsky struggled to stand. This wasn’t going exactly as he expected. And nothing at all like Huggy told him. Starsk - one word from you and that beautiful boy will be between the sheets before you can say boo. He thought about calling Huggy right now. Cursing him out.
He heard Hutch mutter, “Oh what the hell,” felt a tug on his arm and looked up to see lips swooping into his view. He stepped back in shock and fell into the chair, Hutch falling on top of him.
“Make up your mind, Starsk - you want me to kiss you or not?”
Starsky froze and looked into Hutch’s face. Felt Hutch’s arms around him, their legs tangled, his ass digging into the cushion.
“You’re heavy.”
Hutch’s eyebrow rose and a smile crept across his face and then all Starsky felt was Hutch’s lips on his, Hutch’s hand on his chest. He was like a kid who just got everything he ever wanted and suddenly realized that everything he ever wanted might be just too much of a good thing. And then Hutch slipped his tongue into his mouth and he tasted coffee and toothpaste and he smelled sandalwood and he felt the hardness of Hutch’s chest, and he pushed Hutch off him, and then pulled him down to the floor, crawled onto his chest, and began opening this present in earnest.
Twenty minutes later, Hutch was on his back on the floor, one leg in the chair, the other wrapped around Starsky’s leg and Starsky had fallen asleep on Hutch’s chest. The doorbell startled them both. Starsky lifted his head and a line of drool followed him.
“Did you actually drool on me?” Hutch pulled his leg out of the chair.
Starsky rolled over and stood as the doorbell rang again. He yanked his jeans over his hips, ran a hand through his hair, and looked out the little window. Huggy. He opened the door.
Huggy took a look at him, past him to where Hutch had rolled onto the couch, pulling the afghan over his naked body, and chuckled. “So I take it Huggy’s Hoodoo worked? Damn, you brothers are fast. I was just stopping by on my way to work to give you some last minute pointers.” He picked a pillow off the floor and tossed it onto Hutch’s crotch. Hutch let out an oomph. “But I see no instructions are needed.”
“Hi, Hug.” Hutch smiled through his grimace. “Had breakfast?”
Starsky went into the kitchen and came out with a glass of water and a bottle of aspirin.
Huggy shook his head. “Put that poison away. I’ve brought you the only medicine you’re going to need today.” He held up a brown bag. “My chicken soup.”
Starsky took the bag, opened it, took a whiff, and closed it quickly. “What the hell?” He tried to hand the bag back to Huggy, but Hutch came around him and snatched it.
“I suggest you do what Huggy says, Starsk.” Hutch headed into the kitchen.
Huggy chuckled. “Yeah, looks like my advice is working for you so far.”
“You know it is, Hug,” Hutch said from the kitchen. “You know your car keys are in the fridge, Starsk?” He walked out holding the keys and a bowl of soup. “Do I even want to know why?”
“Not while I’m still here,” Huggy said and patted Starsky on the back. “You can talk to your White Knight all about last night later. First, take some soup, and uh . . . carry on.”
Starsky grabbed Huggy’s arm. “Thanks, Hug.”
“Oh, you’re going to be cursing me first, after that bowl of soup. Come by later to thank me.” He nodded at Hutch. “And you remember what I told you last month.”
Hutch nodded and set the soup down on the coffee table.
“Last month?” Starsky waved a hand in front of his face. “Last month? Damn, Huggy, what the hell is in that bowl? A dead squirrel?”
“Starsky, just take a couple of sips and you’ll feel like a new man.”
Starsky sat down and leaned into the soup. “Yeah, well, that’s what you told me last night about that hooch. . .”
“You gave him the hooch? The hooch?” Hutch took a step toward Huggy. “He can’t handle the hooch.”
“What do you mean I can’t handle the hooch? Handled way more than the hooch last night, didn’t I, Hug?”
Huggy and Hutch exchanged a glance. “Oh yeah, Starsky, you had a handle on a lot of things last night. Mainly the car door you were leaning against when you lost it all over the street.”
Hutch laughed. “Well, then I doubt he can handle this, Hug.”
Starsky sat back in the chair. “Like I’m gonna fall for this double psycho treatment. I’m not going to sip anything until someone here tells me what you told Hutch last month that has to do with this and . . . well, you know . . . this.” He spread his hands out.
“That’s my cue to leave.” Huggy headed for the door. “Like I said, come see me tonight.” He disappeared out the door.
Starsky looked up at Hutch. Felt that feeling in his stomach that he knew had nothing to do with a hangover. Couldn’t believe he just realized how damn good Hutch looked in the morning. And the night. And the afternoon.
Hutch moved around and sat on the couch. Looked at Starsky. Smiled.
“What?” Starsky felt his face get hot. “Don’t smile at me.”
“Why not? Pretty happy right now.”
“You are?”
“Aren’t you?”
“Well, I . . . yeah, but . . . well . . .”
“Come on, Starsk - you’re doing me now - thinking too much. Overanalyzing.”
“So you admit you overanalyze.”
“I admit nothing . . .”
Starsky laughed and helped Hutch finish the sentence. “ . . . Huggy Rule Number Three.”
“Are you going to try that soup?” Hutch took the spoon and stirred.
“You know I’m not - go ahead. Can’t be any worse than what you stick in your gut on a daily basis.”
Hutch took a sip and then leaned back. “So, wanna try any of this again?”
Starsky’s headache came roaring to the front of his head. “What do you mean?”
“You know what I mean.”
“Oh, that.”
Hutch got up and came around to Starsky’s chair, leaned down. “I hardly think that you shouting, “Fuck me fuck me fuck me,” qualifies for just an ‘oh, that.’”
Starsky felt Hutch’s breath on his neck as Hutch nuzzled. He thought maybe he would just pass out and start this day again. And the one before. But then he realized that what was happening was what was supposed to happen. He put a hand on Hutch’s shoulder as Hutch moved his lips from his neck to the front of his chest. “God . . .”
“Well, I’m good Starsk, but really?”
“Shut up, Hutch.”
“Shutting up, “Hutch murmured and moved down Starsky’s chest, teasing a nipple.
Starsky leaned his head against the back of the chair, tried not to think, tried not to moan out loud when Hutch nuzzled his stomach, unzipped his pants. Then completely unhinged his world when he murmured, “I love you, too,” into his ear, and pulled his jeans off his hips.
“I thought you were shutting uuuuuuppp,” Starsky tried to talk, but his lips twisted when Hutch took his dick in his hands and pulled gently. “Fucking hell . . .”
“I just wanted you to know. Been wanting you to know for a while.” Hutch slipped his mouth around Starsky’s dick, and Starsky felt the heat and reached out and grabbed Hutch’s hand, twisted his fingers, dug his heels into the rug, and lifted his hips into the sensations and the friction Hutch was causing with his lips and his teeth and he tumbled somewhere he’d never been but had always known.
*****
The night after the day after Starsky fell in love with Hutch, lying together, tangled and happy, the past having made sense of the present, and the future as uncertain as always, he pressed his hand to Hutch’s chest and found his own heart beating there and finally decided it was a good day. A very good day.
the end.
.