Review if you want to :-)
Xx
Hutch is sitting on the couch—freshly showered, with his blond hair fallen across his forehead just so—and I'm thinking that seeing him like this just might be enough for me to forget this garbage heap of a day.
"You ready for the eight-thirty show, babe?"
My words are quiet and I'm relieved at how strong my voice sounds. Sex is probably the last thing I want right now but I need something to distract me from how shattered I feel.
Dropping his bare feet from coffee table Hutch considers me seriously for a second. I know he's deciding whether he should play into my game or ignore it. Not that I can blame him. This case has been a nightmare, for both of us.
"Honey, I don't think I can live through the eight-thirty show," he responds, his voice low and throaty as he repeats Sugar's earlier words with all the seriousness he can muster. "Come here," he adds and his lips curl into a smile as he holds his arms out to me.
I can't get to him quick enough.
He's warm, inviting, and alive. Time and time again his soft touch has been only relief I've felt from the horrors of the world. Tonight I need him more than ever. To love and hold me. To remind who we are and what we do. To assure me that there will be light at the end of the tunnel of this shit day and to protect me from the undeniable knowledge that the next few days will be just as bad.
His hands find my hips and bending my knees I let him pull me to sit on top of him. His eyes shine with a hint of joy and it's not a lot but enough to ease the pain in my heart.
"How are you doin', Partner?" he whispers wrapping his arms tightly around me.
"Fine."
My lie is shaky and unconvincing, and I can tell he doesn't believe me. Tilting his head, he tries to make eye contact but I lean forward and ground my forehead into his shoulder instead. I know he's aching to comfort me. To talk about what we know, but I'm not ready to talk about today or yesterday. To sort through how, why, or what I feel.
I'm too shell-shocked to stumble through it all and too exhausted to face the truth.
"You sure about that?" he presses softly, his hands wander to run through my hair and down the length of my neck before finally settling on my shoulders. His practiced fingers work at the deep knots and tightness I've been carrying since this whole terrible nightmare started.
Since someone discovered John Blaine's body lying in an empty hotel room.
"Yes," I answer, leaning my head forward to relax into his touch. His hands feel good. Comforting. They ground me in a way that I can't even began to understand.
Did John feel this kind of love for another man?
I can't ignore the question when in pops in my mind but I don't want to think about John being gay, the case, or how he died. Snapping my neck up, I look into Hutch's blue eyes, and startled by my abrupt movement, he grips my shoulders tight. His sparkling eyes scream a question but I'm not ready to go there; not yet.
Xx
"Your Uncle Al wanted me to talk to you," John started, sitting next to me on the concrete steps.
"'Bout what?" I scoffed.
My nose was bloody, my knuckles swollen, and they both hurt more then I wanted to let on. But I'm twelve and used to not crying over small shit by now. Besides, if I really wanted to cry I had better reasons than losing a fight to a bigger guy. Like pop being dead and Ma sending me away.
"Oh," John sighed. "About all these fights you've been getting into." Pulling his handkerchief from the back pocket of his slacks and handed it to me. "And the trouble you've been having at school."
"You taught me to fight," I reminded him bitterly, wiping at my nose. "And now you're telling me not to."
"I taught you to defend yourself," John corrected, knocking our shoulders together. "You need to learn to settle down a bit."
Handing him the bloodstained handkerchief, John nodded at my hand. "Let me take a look at that."
His face was firm but his fingers were gentle as he pushed and probed my hand looking for broken bones. He reminded me of my father. Gruff and stern when I'd done something wrong but loving and forgiving underneath.
"I don't fit in here," I found myself admitting, tears filling my eyes. "All the kids think I'm weird, and I don't got nobody who understands me."
Smiling sadly, John pulled his hand from mine. "Don't worry, you will," he said knowingly. "And you do have somebody, you have me."
Xx
I lean forward and claim Hutch's mouth with my own. It takes a second for him to kiss me back but when he does, his enthusiasm lets me know he's happy for the distraction. He moves his hands from my hips and pushes his long fingers through my hair, pulling our faces closer as our kiss deepens.
I kiss him back with as much feeling as I can, but a small voice in the back of my head whispers this isn't what I need right now. Closing my eyes, I ignore the voice and move my hands to the buttons of his shirt and start undoing them one-by-one. The voice is wrong. I know exactly what I need from him.
Xx
"Here's to you," John grinned as he hands me a beer, "Detective," he added a hint of pride in his tone. "I can't believe it, David, you're all grown up."
Leaning against the car in John's garage, I cracked the top of my beer and took a sip. "Yeah," I laughed. "Sometimes I have a hard time believing that too."
We sat in silence for a while. Waiting for Uncle Al to call us back to the yard to help with the burgers and entertain the guests. I still have trouble with crowds—something I'm only John understood. Nam had left me claustrophobic and distrusting but I was tough enough to make it through the academy and deemed stable enough defend strangers on the streets with a badge and a gun. A small BBQ in my Aunt and Uncle's back yard, to celebrate the advancement in my career shouldn't have been a struggle and yet, somehow it was.
And when I started to get uncomfortable and nervous, John was there. He noticed my attempt to slip away and grabbed me and pulled me to the quiet and safety of his garage.
One beer becomes two, then three. I was feeling pretty relaxed by the time he spoke again.
"Did you and your uncle figure out your shit yet?"
"Not really."
Uncle Al wasn't happy when I decided to follow in my father footsteps and become a cop. He wanted me to do something safer. Like work at his garage, which was okay for a summer job when I was high school but not something I wanted to do long-term.
I needed to do something that mattered. To use my anger, confusion, and frustration by channeling it into something that could help people. But most of all, I wanted to honor my father's memory and be strong like John.
"He doesn't agree with it but he wants me to know that he supports me."
John's eyebrows shot up and he took another drink of his beer. "That's big of him to say that."
"Yeah."
"That's his way of saying he's okay with it, you know?" John assured.
"I know."
And I did. Uncle Al loved me, I knew that. He didn't understand me, though. We were different people; we needed different things out of life. He needed the safety of a regular 9-5 and I, I wasn't sure what I needed at that time. But John was.
"Your uncle is proud of you," John said, nodding at the garage door. "Even if he doesn't know how to say it. And your father," his voice dropped to a low whisper as he looked at me with glistening eyes, "he would be incredibly proud of you—of the man you've become. And I am too."
Xx
What I need from Hutch is to either get hot enough to make me forget about this day or to use that great intuition of his and realize this is all for show. And honestly, I'm really hoping that once in his life he won't be able to see right through me. That he'll tear my clothes off and take me to the bedroom because I'm still not ready to talk about John.
It isn't that Hutch wouldn't understand. I'm not the only person who lost John. In my heart, I know Hutch loved him too. And my partner is hurting but it's a hell of a lot different than the burning devastation that I feel. His pain just isn't the same as mine.
John was to me what I know Lucas is to Hutch. People we've collected to represent someone else. They're the ones who randomly show up in our lives, wordlessly fillin' in the empty spaces between what you needed and what you got. And you end up loving them in the end—not just for who they are but for who they are for you. And those are the people you never expect to lose, so it hurts when you do. Oh, shit does it hurt. The pain is so much more than you could have imagined.
Xx
John glanced up at me as I quietly snuck into his office. Sighing I dropped myself heavily into the chair next to the door. He ignored me at first. Rustling through papers and rapping his pen impatiently on the desk. It wasn't until I leaned over and shut the door that he gave me his full attention.
"You in trouble again?" he asked, rubbing his hands over his eyes.
"No."
"Then why are you hiding out in my office," he countered, glancing at his watch, "at ten thirty on Tuesday morning?"
"Dunno… Just... Haven't seen you in a while."
"And?"
"And," I hedged, picking at hole in the knees of my jeans. "Well... I don't know."
Sighing heavily, Johns leaned back in his chair. It made a creaking noise and looking up I found him with his arms crossed and his face guarded.
"Come on, David. You don't come in here and shut the door when you're in the mood to catch up." He eyed me dubiously. "What's going on?"
"Nothin'."
"I'm only going to ask you one more time," he threatened, after a moment. "And if you don't cut the bullshit, I'm gonna ask you to leave."
I didn't respond to his empty threat, instead I kept quiet and picked at my jeans. We both knew he would never kick me out. Just like we both knew I was only hiding in his office because I was having trouble working through the lingering strain left behind by the last case Hutch and I worked.
"Okay," John sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I heard you guys nailed Forest. That was a hell of a bust you guys pulled off, one of the cleanest arrests on record." He smiled. "That was good work; there's no way that asshole is going to worm his way out of this one..."
John continued his voice warm and proud. My eyes welled up halfway through and biting my lip I stared at the floor. The tile was clean and shiny but all I could see was Hutch, broken and bruised in the alleyway.
"David?"
There was worry in his voice and I all I wanted to do was to tell him that it was okay—that I was okay—but my throat closed up, suffocating me with each breath.
Leaning forward, I rested my head in my hands. I wanted to look at John, but I couldn't, for fear of falling apart. And I couldn't talk about what happened, because officially it didn't. But unofficially it was tearing me apart, and I didn't know how to sort through how I felt.
"Hey, kid," John whispered. Taking the seat next to me, he rested his hand on my back. "Are you okay?"
"I don't know," I said quietly and it's only then I realized how true my words really were.
I didn't know if I was gonna get over what happened or even if I could. What I felt inside was something akin to fury, and I could hardly look at Hutch without seeing what they did to him.
"You'll be okay," John said firmly. "Whatever happened, it feels awful now but it won't forever."
His voice was so strong and sure, and it seemed ridiculous not to believe him. And somewhere in the back of my head I knew he was right—just like I knew he'd be.
Squeezing my neck, John stood. "I know what will make you feel better." Tilting his head at the door, he smiled. "Come on, I'll buy you lunch."
It wasn't everything that I need to hear but it was enough. That was the beauty of going to John. I never had to explain myself. He'd been a cop long enough to know that what gets reported isn't always how it goes down and how to talk about things without saying a word.
Xx
Breaking our kiss, Hutch takes a deep breath before going to work on my neck. His kisses are soft and his eyelashes tickle my skin. I close my eyes, struggling to focus less on my memories and more on the familiar touch.
Hutch's eager hands make their way under my shirt. Pulling it off he tosses it to the floor, then pushing me off of him, he gently guides me to lay on the couch. His touch is too careful—so loving—I can barely handle it. But it's my grief I'm losing control over, not my body. And as Hutch moves his head to my chest, caressing and his way down, silent tears spill from my eyes.
He hasn't noticed how worked up I am, but it's only a matter of time.
Xx
I was sitting on the couch when I heard knock at the door. Groaning, I leaned my head back rolled my eyes. If it was Hutch checking in on me again I was going really going to lose my mind. Maybe I'd do something crazy—give him good reason to be treating with the gentle kids gloves he'd slipped on shortly after rescuing me.
A second knock followed the first, and popping the top of my beer can I surrendered myself to another awkward conversation with my partner.
"It's open," I yelled.
"Are you fucking insane?" John exclaimed, slamming the door behind him.
"What?"
Before I knew it, it he was standing in front of me, red-faced and frowning. If I were younger I'd be afraid of him or at the least a little intimidated, but I wasn't. Mostly because I don't feel much of anything outside of anger those days.
"I found this on the outside of your door." He thrusted my extra key in my face. "Don't do that anymore. And keep the door locked—dead-bolted—I don't care if you're home or not." He pointed at the door. "That fucker stays locked, period."
Rolling my eyes, I ignored his worried tone and took another drink of my beer. My anger was building, but I forced myself to push it down.
"Don't roll your eyes at me!" he exploded. "They could still be out there... Watching you. And..." He stopped suddenly, looking around my apartment in confusion as his familiar eyes searched for something that was missing. "Where's Hutch?"
"I sent him home. He was getting' on my nerves, and I don't need a sitter."
"What?" he asked, his voice thick with confusion as he sat on the other side of the couch. "That's a first. I didn't think the two of you ever separated. I was beginning to think you couldn't function without each other."
I wiped at the condensation on the outside of my beer can and listened as he took some deep breaths. I start counting in my head, wondering if I can make it to fifty before he starts in on why he's really here. I only make it to twenty-five before his soft voice asked the same question everyone around me had been asking for weeks.
"You wanna talk about it?"
Anger rushed through me as I rolled my eyes. Between my psych, Hutch, and Dobey I had a trifecta of constant encouragement to talk about what happened. No, I didn't want to talk about it. I didn't want to talk about it with Dobey, or Hutch, or Huggy, or my Aunt and Uncle, and I was a little disappointed that John's decided to probe me too. It would have been nice to hang-out. Maybe watch the game, just like old days.
"Not much to talk about." I frowned. "Listen, John I don't need—"
"Hutch says you aren't talking about it."
Son of a bitch. That wasn't even close to true. I was talking, it just happened Hutch wasn't the one I was spilling my guts to. I had a psych, a good one too. And he'd heard every grimy detail, every horrible thing that happened to me, and it was hard enough confiding in a stranger I didn't have the courage repeat everything to someone I loved.
"Did he tell you to come check up on me?" I slammed my beer on the coffee table so hard a stream shot out the top and spilled over the sides.
"Maybe."
"Jesus Christ! Why can't I get a second without havin' someone crawling up my ass about this?"
"He says you're acting strange."
"Let's see you walk away from that and act normal!"
"He says you're changing... that he doesn't know how to reach you." Looking at me sadly, John put his hand on my shoulder.
"Don't touch me," I growled, shrugging his hand away. "I don't like people fucking touching me."
"Since when?"
"Since I won a weekend getaway at the zoo with the church of Simon."
"David—"
His tone was too soft, too understanding and it ignited my fury. He didn't understand at all. He couldn't possibly understand.
"Listen," I yelled, shooting up from the couch to point an accusing finger at him. "I don't got to tell you what creeps like that do to guys like me. So what is left to talk about? You both already know what happened, I was the same MO as everybody else."
"David-"
"Why is everyone tryin' so hard to make me relive it?" I sobbed, staring at the floor. My anger was gone, replaced by confusion, grief, and deep shame. I knew I shouldn't be letting what happened settle so deep inside me, but I couldn't help it.
"David," John said softly. He stood in front of me, and I allowed him to pull me into his arms. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry this happened to you." Rubbing soft circles on my back with his strong hands he continued in a whisper, "What they did... It doesn't make you any less of a man..."
Xx
I'm sobbing now, clinging not to John but Hutch.
"It's okay," Hutch continues softly, placing tender kisses on the side of my head. "It'll be okay."
"Y-you don't u-understand," I force out. "Y-you d-don't know w-what he m-meant to me."
"Oh, Starsky…"
"No!" I scream, the pit of my stomach filling with anger.
I don't want to cry. I don't want to feel like my worlds just ended. I want to forget. Wiping at my tears, I set my jaw and kiss Hutch firmly. I lower my hands to his belt buckle but he pushes them away and pulls away from me.
"No."
"Please?" I grimace at how needy my voice sounds. "I-I'm not cryin' anymore. I just need to have you close to me... I just need..."
"I am close to you," Hutch whispers sadly. Reaching out he grasps my face in his hands and wipes at my wet cheeks with his thumbs. "And you need to feel this."
And that's when I know I can't run anymore. Not from the pain I feel over John or from the overwhelming sense of loss I feel because now I know I never really knew who he was.
"We never even talked about it," I whisper, my bottom lip quivering.
"What, baby?"
"Being..." I choke on the word. Somehow I can't make myself say it so I say something else instead. "How we are together, how he was with someone else."
"Oh, babe."
"I think he may have wanted to tell me," I whisper, almost too softly to be heard. "I t-think I had an opportunity to talk to him about it but…" I take a few shaky breaths before continuing. "But I missed it."
The sadness in Hutch's eyes is overwhelming and I look away. All I can think about is that day, when John came to see me after Marcus and things he said to me. Would he have said more to me had I given him the chance? If I'd opened up more about who I was would he have been able to do the same? My thoughts are a horrible mixture of regret, pain, and guilt and before I know what's happening, I'm blinded by tears and struggling to breath.
"It doesn't change anything, Starsky," Hutch whispers thickly, pulling me back in his arms.
Sobbing, I bury my head in his shoulder and pray to god this is some terrible nightmare. But the way Hutch is holding me, the feeling of his palm rubbing comforting circles on my back, reminds me this isn't a dream and when I wake up tomorrow everything will be the same—maybe even worse.
"You loved him and he loved you, and that's what you gotta hold on to," Hutch says, his voice low and tight. "Whatever you talked about or didn't, it doesn't make a damn bit of difference. It doesn't change was who he was to you or what you were to him."
The words aren't near enough. I know it and Hutch knows it too. Nothing he can say will make this loss easier or ease the overwhelming hurt I feel. So Hutch does what he can do—the thing John would have done—he holds me close to his heart and he lets me cry.
It isn't everything that I need at the moment but it's enough. Enough to get me through tonight and tomorrow. It's enough to keep me going.
END