The Ties That Bind

by CrazyKater

*Slash* Starsky POV, originally written to explain Starsky's pep talk to Hutch in Fatal Charm, but it kept thinking it needed to be something else. Hutch has knee surgery and Starsky muses about his partner, the past, and how their love came to be. [Disclaimer: I wrote this years ago. It may or may not have been briefly posted at one time or another.]

"Now, when the nurse comes in here to give you a shot, I want you to be brave. No screaming, no crying, no carrying on. I want you to be a soldier. Got that?"

–Starsky to Hutch, Fatal Charm

---

Let me just start off by saying that spending the better part of the day hanging out in a hospital waiting room is not on the list of my favorite things to do. For one thing the rooms always look the same. Small and white. There's hardly ever a workin' TV and when it is functional it's always set on some garbage nobody is interested in watchin'.

Then there's the chairs. Usually brown. Uncomfortable. Shit for back support. In fact, my back is already starting to ache from this damn chair and I haven't even been sitting in it for that long.

Don't even get me started on the reading material. Tattered and backdated issues of Vogue and Fashion. Chick stuff. Sometimes you'll get lucky and find a copy of People or maybe a National Geographic buried at the bottom of the pile, but those are pretty coveted among waiting room gatherers and hard to come by.

This time, though, I was smart. Since I knew in advance I would be spending the greater part of my day waiting around in a hospital—which doesn't normally happen—I brought a book I've been meaning to read.

Hutch's is having surgery on his leg today, or a Knee Arthroplasty to be specific. You see, his leg has never really been the same since he spent a couple of days trapped under his beat up car last year. I think it's because the damn thing never healed right but I'm not a doctor so what do I know?

I do know that ever since Hutch ditched the cast, a few months after the accident, the pain in his knee never really went away.

It started out as a dull kinda pain that came and went. No big deal, or so he said. But in the last few months it's gotten worse, something I know because Hutch's started popping aspirin like they're candy, skipping his morning runs, and avoiding stairs—which in our line of work is kinda hard to do, not to mention there's stairs leading to both of our apartments.

The breaking point with this thing was a coupla weeks ago. I was following him up the stairs to Venice Place. One second he was poking fun at me for something or other and the next his knee gave out and he fell up the stairs—which is not the first time I have ever seen him fall UP something. Klutz like him—but after, he couldn't seem to put any weight on his left leg. I had to half carry him the rest of the way up.

I tell you what, he's only two inches taller than me and most days I don't notice a difference, but that day, scaling those steep-ass stairs with his weight baring down on me, I felt every single millimeter of our height difference.

By the time we got into his apartment, I was sweating and huffing like I'd just run a marathon.

'You're goin' to see a doctor,' I insisted as I dropped him on the couch.

'I'll be fine,' he growled back, rubbing at his knee. 'It just gave out. I just need to sit down for a while and ice it, then it'll be good as new.'

'Bullshit.' I employed one of his favorite gestures and pointed my index finger at him. 'Make an appointment or I will make it for you.'

And that's how I came to be here, two weeks later, wasting the better part of a day in a sterile white hospital waiting room.

From what I hear two weeks a pretty quick turnaround for scheduling surgeries like this, but Hutch's dad is a doctor—I mean physician—and once he got word Hutch was going to have another surgery on his leg, well, Mr. H insisted Memorial get his son in right away. He even got some big wig surgeon from the mid-west to fly in to do it.

Hutch acted embarrassed when his father made such a big deal out of his knee but I know he was really relieved. His father knew what he was talking about and was takin' charge.

Scheduled surgery is NOT Hutch's kind of thing. He does okay in situations where one of us gets hurt on the job. You know, the reactive kind of stuff. But scheduled surgeries, forget about it. It leaves him too much time to brood. Overthink. Get scared—although he'll never admit that part.

Even though he's been trying really hard to hide it, I know Hutch is petrified of having his knee worked on again. It's the second surgery on his damn knee in a year and I know he's been fixating on the small—very small—possibility his leg might not be able to be fixed and how he might never be the same again.

I do not share in this worry. The surgeon his dad got is good—really good—and as long as Hutch takes it easy like he's supposed to and keeps up with the physical therapy after, he'll be fine.

And if he isn't, I quote my grandmother when I say, 'why borrow tomorrow's worries for today?' We'll get through that shit too (my words not my grandmother's), we always do.

I'm the only one in the waiting room so I slouch down in my chair and prop my feet up on the small table in front of me. I'm just about to start in on the first page of my book when the nurse walks in. I throw my head back and let out a sigh as she makes her way toward me. Her face is wrinkled from age but furrowed with concern.

"I think you better come back here," she says seriously.

I slam my book shut and rub a hand across my face. They haven't been back there long enough to do the surgery yet. They only just sent me out of the room 20 minutes ago.

Xx

The nurse leads me through a maze of hallways and a couple of doors I'm sure I'm not supposed to behind before we make our way to a room with hospital gurneys separated by white curtains. And that's when I hear it.

"I-I-I d-don't want to d-do this a-anymore!"

My partner's fragmented sobs. Hutch is in the middle of an anxiety fueled meltdown, which doesn't happen too often, but boy when it does, well, you better just stand back.

"Alright, Mr. Hutchinson," the nurse says flatly. "I got your friend, could you please calm down now?"

"S-S-Starsky," Hutch hiccups as he holds a hand out to me in desperation. He sounds like a scared little kid. He looks like one too. With his face covered in tears and snot drippin' from his nose. "P-please t-tell them I don't want to do t-this."

"Hutch," I sigh.

My eyes find the nurse. She purses her lips, and that's when I realize she has no idea what to do with my spooked partner. She's called me in for reinforcement.

"Can you let us have a few minutes please?" I tilt my head at her.

She looks warily at Hutch. Then me. She doesn't say anything but a second later she leaves us alone, or as alone you can be with a thin sheet as a wall.

"S-Starsky," Hutch sobs again as I move closer to the bed. "P-please take me h-home."

"Not gonna happen, Blintz."

I fight back a groan and run my hand through his hair. It's gettin' longer than he normally keeps it but I'm liken the way it sometimes curls and sticks up at the bottom. It's more casual, like he's slowly loosening his need to control things all the time.

I palm his neck and squeeze tightly. "What's goin' on, huh?" I ask in a hushed whisper, even though I already know the answer. Lord knows he's been brooding over it long enough.

"I don't want to do this anymore," Hutch repeats as if that should explain everything. He wipes at his face with the sleeve of his hospital gown.

"Well, I know that." I roll my eyes. "Why don't you want to do this anymore?" I prompt gently.

Hutch's eyes get big and fill with new tears. Sniffles are my only answer as he picks at the sheet covering him.

Sighing heavily I settle in on the edge of bed. This could take a while. It would be so much easier if he could just let it all out. God knows he'd feel better. Besides, I already know what's going through his blond head anyway.

All he's gotta do is say, 'Starsky, I don't want to have leg surgery because I'm scared, because recovery was so horrible last time, and especially because I hate hobbling around with crutches and being so dependent on others for everything. I don't do well with having to be taken care of.'

See? Easy. I know a lot more about him than he thinks I do but I still don't understand why opening up is so hard for him.

"Come on, babe." Taking his hand in my own, I caress the top of it with my thumb. I give him a big smile and the most encouraging look I can muster.

"I just don't," he mumbles wiping at his face again. "I wanna go home."

"Well that's not happening."

I get a teary glare for that one. And then the kind of look that accuses me of being the worst partner in the world. I don't take it to heart, though. Sometimes Hutch needs a little kick and I'm willing to give it to him. Even if is a swift one to the ass.

I don't get another chance to ask Hutch what's going through his head before the surgeon peers through the curtains and clears his throat.

I turn and see a short, balding man scowling at us. So this is the guy Hutch's dad is so impressed with.

"You almost ready here?" the surgeon sarcastically. His expression isn't much better as he looks Hutch and me up and down.

Hutch clams up the moment the guy's judgmental eyes meet his. He pulls his hand from mine and crosses his arms. I fight anger. My partner is in the middle of a nervous breakdown and this jerk is needling him with his harsh tone.

"We have a schedule to keep," the surgeon adds unnecessarily. I decide I am not impressed. Not at all.

"Almost," I smile warmly at him, then nod at the hallway inviting him to leave us alone.

The surgeon stares me down for a few seconds, before throwing up a hand and letting out a defeated sigh.

"Five minutes," he growls. "Or you'll have to re-schedule, and find another surgeon," he threatens as he turns and closes the curtain behind him.

Asshole.

"Okay, Blintz, you heard the man." I stand from the bed, and Hutch opens his mouth to protest. I can just hear him saying: 'that's fine, let's re-schedule.'

"Starsky..." Hutch starts then stops to bite his bottom lip. His cheeks get a little red. He's embarrassed now, and feeling pretty stupid over crying in front of the infamous surgeon his father thinks is so great.

Letting out a heavy sigh, Hutch leans his head firmly back on the pillow. I can just see him silently berating himself for losing his cool and letting his insecurities get the best of him.

He needs reassurance and I'm just the partner to give it to him. I make my way to the curtain. Peaking behind it, I do a quick check for lingerers. There isn't a soul in sight, so I pull the curtain closed and return to my partner's side.

"You're gonna be fine, babe. I promise." I run my fingers through his hair one last time. "Now give me a kiss," I instruct as I lean in to meet his lips with mine.

"I love you," I whisper pulling my face back. I lean forward and plant a firm kiss on his forehead, just for luck. "Everything is going to be A-Okay. And I'll be right here when you wake up."

Xx

Hutch's surgery takes longer than expected. Which I don't like at all. It gives me too much time to focus on the other reason Hutch was so sketchy about having another surgery.

Post-surgery pain management is what most doctors I've come across have called it. I just call it a first-class ticket to La-La Land, which is not my favorite place to visit, let me tell you, but I can handle the very occasional trip. Hutch, on the other hand, cannot.

Hutch has good reason not to like pills or any form of pain management, being held hostage and strung out on heroine a couple years back has left both of us a little cautious about Hutch and meds. Even so, it isn't exactly something I spend a lot of time worryin' about.

Don't get me wrong. It was horrible experience and something I wish Hutch never had to go through, but he kicked it cold turkey and came out like a champ. Or so I thought. It wasn't until a week ago that I knew differently.

'I liked it,' Hutch whispered to me as we lay in his bed two nights ago. 'N-not the whole being held hostage and forced to get high thing.' His brow furrowed as he looked at me with serious eyes. 'But babe… when they shot me full of that shit and I was flying… I'd never felt that good before or since.'

I stared at him in the darkness. Dumbfounded.

'I don't want to do this surgery,' he continued. 'I don't want to go under and I don't want to take pills after. Starsk, what happens if I can't get off them?'

'But babe," I said, finally finding my voice. 'You've been hurt since Forest. You've been hospitalized and prescribed meds and you've been just fine."

Rolling on to his back, Hutch blew out a heavy breath. He pulled his arm from my grasp and settled both hands on his chest.

'Haven't you?' I pressed. Feeling my heart beating a little quicker, I fought the feeling that Hutch had been a big secret from me. 'Babe?'

Hutch closed his eyes then whispered something that made my heart drop.

'It gets harder every time, Starsk… I—I like how it feels to not feel. And those fucking pills… they… they just make it so easy to do that. Every time it's like I get closer and closer to just letting them engulf me. It would be so easy to stay on them.'

And there it was. Hutch was afraid that his surgery would send him traveling down the dark lonely road of drug dependency and addiction.

I didn't answer right away. I wasn't sure of what to say. Well, that and I was too busy starin' up at the ceiling, cursing Ben Forest and the invisible scars he imprinted on my partner. What I wouldn't give to have five minutes alone with Forest. I'm pretty sure I could leave some pretty deep scars myself.

Letting out a deep breath, I rolled over and settled my naked chest on his. He stared up at me, his face softening, as I stroked his hair with one hand and settled the other one on his cheek.

'That would never happen, babe,' I assured him, dropping kisses up his jaw line.

'I wish I could share in your certainty.' His words were soft and his wandering hands told me he was loosening his grip on his worry. Just a bit.

'Well, you are forgetting about something very important in this equation.'

'Yeah?' Hutch's eyes twinkled in understanding but he still played along. 'What's that?'

'Me. I love you. And there ain't no way in hell I'm gonna let you turn into a junkie.'

Hutch gave me a deep kiss for that, and something else that is better left behind the privacy of closed doors and dark bedrooms.

Xx

I am pacing and getting' ready to climb the walls of the small waiting room when the surgeon finally comes out to talk to me.

"More scar tissue than anticipated," he says flatly with the same stupid look on his face.

Then he drones on about the more gruesome details of knee surgery and I check out. I have the larger picture of what they did, I don't need to know the frame-by-frame. And despite his attention to detail, I'm still not impressed by him—in case you were wondering.

"Terrific," I say, sticking my hands in my pockets and rocking on the soles of my feet. "When can I see him?"

"They're bringing him to recovery right now. A nurse will be down to collect you shortly."

The wait for the nurse is agonizing and it is anything but short.

XX

I hear Hutch's groans before I even make it into the recovery room. His voice is scratchy and painfully deep. It makes my throat hurt just listening to it.

"Heya, Partner," I greet with a big smile. "How ya feelin'?"

Not good by the looks of it.

Hutch's eyes are red, bleary, and full of tears. The same nurse who 'collected' me when Hutch was havin' his meltdown is holding a kidney shaped bowl under his chin with one hand and wiping at his mouth with the other.

Hutch opens his mouth to say something but starts dry heaving instead. I grimace and my stomach rolls right along with his.

"Ugh!" he chokes out between heaves and coughs.

"Just let it come," the nurse suggests firmly and Hutch gags in response.

"I don't know why you're fighting it," the nurse says judgmentally and that's when I start wondering if she knows the difference between how dry heave and a puke sound. Probably not if she's talking to him like that.

"Just let it go Mr. Hutchinson!"

"I don't think he has anything to let go," I offer with a helpful smile. The nurse glares back at me.

I lift my hands up in mock defeat but the second she looks back at Hutch I roll my eyes, return her glare, and decide I'm unimpressed with her too.

Hutch heaves some more before finally getting ahold of himself. Irritated the nurse takes the bowl from under his chin and excuses herself before leaving us alone.

Hutch turns his head to look at me. Swallowing, he reaches his hand out and I swoop in.

I sit at the edge of the bed and Hutch's hand settles on my thigh as I smooth his hair back and caress his cheek. Closing his eyes groggily, he leans into my palm. I know he feels like shit. Not that I can blame him, being woken up from anesthesia is not my favorite thing either.

"Wanna go home," he croaks, lulling his head slightly from side to side.

"We will."

"Don't leave me alone with her," he moans pointing weakly at the door. "She's mean."

"I won't." I smile. "At least not until you can defend yourself." Leaning forward I plant a kiss on his forehead. "How are you doing?"

"Feel weird." He grips my thigh. "Like I'm dreaming... I don't like it…" he drops off to weakly.

"That'll pass."

Grabbing his hand I hold it tightly and I bring it to my mouth for a kiss. Hutch is so helpless and winey and suddenly I'm so consumed by love that I think my face may crack from the smile I can't hold back.

I started loving Hutch a long time ago. Earlier into our partnership than I would like to admit.

Back then he was hands off. Blonde, beautiful, and straight. Very straight.

And me? Well, I suppose I was straight too—for the most part anyway—my occasional wandering eye and sporadic solicitation of men did not have any effect on my actual sexuality. For all intents and purposes I was straight.

I did have a crush on Hutch, though. It was hard not to. He was—and is—gorgeous. Blond hair, blue eyes, and tall. But it was his intensity that pulled me in. Hutch is so very intense about everything. His morals, job, and especially me.

I tried so hard to act buddy-buddy and pal around like guys are supposed to, but let me tell you, the kind of touchy-feeling attention he was always showering on me, it was hard not to react to that sometimes. And I know there were a coupla times when my attraction to him had to be obvious. Thankfully he was still too busy chasing the big V to notice.

Vanessa.

Jesus, did Hutch chase her. Up, down, and all around. Which was weird because they were married at the time.

Never once did I come close to getting married. Shit. I don't think I've been with a woman I really loved. Men on the other hand... There were a few heavy hitters in the bunch, but looking back now, none of them could hold a candle to what me and Hutch have. But I'm getting ahead of myself.

Two years I sat on the sidelines of Hutch and Van's relationship. Watchin' them fight and hurt each other. Neither one of them really wanted to be there. That was obvious to anyone who saw them. They were just so used to fighting and hurting.

There's desperation in fear, Hutch and Van taught me that.

Both of them were trying so hard to stay and leave at the same time. Each too afraid of being alone to leave the other. So they fought. Oh, God did they fight.

It got bad toward the end, when Hutch started getting sick of her shit and pushin back. Although, his pushes were more covert. Never physical, despite the bruises Van might have left. Ladies on the side and booze, those were more his style. Two things that hurt him more than her in the end. That marriage cost him too much.

I will never forget the dark cold night in May, when Hutch showed up on my doorstep. His letterman jacket and jeans were soakin' wet from the pouring rain. His hair was matted and tears shined in his eyes as he leaned on my doorframe looking exhausted and lost.

'I can't do this anymore,' he whispered brokenly his eyes pleading for a deeper level of understanding. 'But I don't know what to do about it.' He shook his head and sobbed out the rest. 'This is killing me, Starsk.'

I stood there for a second. My heart beating out of my chest. Thinkin' this is it. He loves me too. Only he didn't. Not yet anyway. The timing was still off and he was taking about his marriage.

'I didn't know where else to go,' he offered to the silence and I snapped out of inactivity.

'It's okay,' I assured grabbing him by the sleeve and pulling him into my apartment. 'We'll figure it out.'

And as time kept going we did.

I stood strong as a soldier beside him as he filed for divorce—another incredibly hard day. Hutch found an apartment, and he and Van split up their stuff. Hutch was depressed at first, and he had such a hard time letting go.

'I've been with her since I was sixteen, Starsky,' he confided to me the day they signed the papers.

We were sitting in a quiet booth in a bar near the courthouse. It was only two in the afternoon but we'd started 'celebrating' long before that.

'How am I supposed to live without her now?' he asked me. His voice was so haunting.

'You'll figure it out,' I offered cheerfully. I didn't really know what to say. I just wanted him to feel better. I wanted so badly for him to have a day where he didn't feel like total shit.

'I don't want you to hate Van,' he slurred.

'Yeah,' I scoffed and took another drink. It was too late for that.

'It wasn't always bad,' he continued. 'We loved each other once...Besides,' he paused, lost in another time. 'It wasn't all her. I-I did shit too.'

'None of that matters now, Pal,' I reminded gently.

'Don't you think it should though?' he snapped back as his hand gripped his glass tightly. 'Sixteen years of my life. Dissolved by a fuckin' piece of paper,' his voice cracked as he mumbled to his beer.

I learned a lot about marriage and love over those eight weeks. And even more about divorce.

Like how you can despise somebody and be broken by the things they did, but somehow still want and even love them. Even though Hutch didn't want Van, in some fucked up way, he didn't want to be without her either. His grief over what he had done during their marriage and his responsibly over their separation were intense.

In those first few weeks, it almost seemed like, for him, walking away was as bad as staying.

Eventually, Hutch worked through his guilt and responsibly and all emotions that came with them. Hurt. Anger. Resentment. He came out the other end realizing he was better off without her. Although, it took a while for him to finally believe it.

Then, life moved on, for all of us.

XX

Hutch is in the hospital for three days after his surgery.

Three long days, consisting of hospital food, an unfamiliar bed, crap TV, and no privacy. He's asleep for a lot of it, though. And the rest of the time he's either too dozed on painkillers to be good company or waiting for another dose and in too much pain to be polite. I try my best to make the experience bearable for him, which mostly consists of keeping quiet and running interference with the nurses.

It's sprinkling rain as we negotiate him up the metal stairs to my apartment. His crutches are slowing him down and the pain killers are making him clumsier than usual.

I'm a nervous wreck the whole time, watchin' him struggle his way up. I can't decide if I want to be in front or behind him. Eventually, I decide to follow him up the stairs—the obvious choice Hutch grumbles—that way if he falls down I can catch him and if he falls up I can grab him from behind.

A while later, Hutch is finally settled. I look at him as he lays on my couch, exhausted and spent from the short trek, and that's when I decide one of us needs to move to a new place. One without stairs, or better yet someplace we could live together. The thought puts a smile my face and Hutch looks at me with glassy eyes.

"What?" he asks.

"Nothin'." I bend down and lay gentle kiss on forehead. "Just happy you're home."

"Oh." Hutch smiles. "Me too," he adds with a yawn.

"You need anything, babe?" I ask the question out of habit but both of already know the answer.

Post-surgery, first day at home, Hutch always wants the same things. To doze on my couch, underneath the blanket from my bed; the TV—volume down low—on in the background; glass after glass of ice water; a huge plate of greasy French fries from Huggy's and the silent promise that I will never mention that he requested and actually ate junk food.

"Water," Hutch requests as I turn on the TV. I make sure the volume is low enough before I make my way to the kitchen.

God, I love him. Have I mentioned that yet? And not that I particularly

enjoy seenin' him hurting but having Hutch recuperating on my couch is one of my favorite things.

He's drugged up, mostly helpless, and completely out of it. He laughs at things he would never laugh at otherwise and cries at the drop of a hat.

The last time I brought Hutch home after surgery, I walked in the door and he was layin' on the couch bawling his eyes out over a laundry detergent ad. A laundry detergent ad. It was pathetic—I mean endearing.

Recuperating Hutch just wants to be taken care of, and I don't mind that at all. Normal everyday Hutch is so damn capable—he doesn't need help and he doesn't ask for it. It's nice for me to be needed every once and awhile.

"Star-sky," Hutch whines from the couch.

"Yeah, babe?" I shut the freezer door after chipping some small pieces off the glacier I bought at the corner market.

"I'm uncomfortable."

"Move a little, Blintz," I offer, bending over the water dispenser to fill his glass.

"I ca-an't," comes the follow up whine.

I force back a laugh and smile at the neediness of his tone.

"Why can't you?"

He lets out a groan and I think he isn't going to answer but then he wines again.

"Because I'm uncomfortable."

I couldn't hold back my snort over that one.

"Well, then move," I counter walking over to the couch.

Hutch pulls his hand from under the comforter when I offer him the glass. He takes a sip then hands it back.

"Cold enough?" I know it has to be. I put half a glacier in it, but I want to make sure it's exactly how he needs it.

Hutch nods. Sticking his arms back under the blanket he grimaces and shutters.

Setting the glass on the coffee table, I crouch down in front of the couch. Hutch looks at me with unfocused eyes.

"You still uncomfortable?" I rub my hand up and down his arm.

Hutch stares at me blankly.

"You want me to help you move?" I try again.

"No," he sighs finally. His blue eyes leave mine and I follow his gaze to the opposite end of the couch and his bandaged knee.

"It'll hurt too much."

"It is hurtin' now?"

"Not really." He shrugs. "I'm just tired." He grabs my arm and whispers, "Sit with me."

"Okay."

Hutch leans forward as much as he can and I sit in the corner of the couch. I put throw pillow on my lap, and he leans back and lets out a content sigh as his head and shoulder sink into the plush material.

"Comfy?" I whisper looking down at his sleepy baby blues.

With a nod he lifts his hand up to cup my neck. Letting out deep breath I close my eyes, enjoying the warmth of Hutch's touch. It's only been three days but I know we're both starved for the comfort of close contact.

We stay like that for a while. Eventually, Hutch's hand falls from my neck and his breathing settles when he gives into sleep.

Resting an arm across his chest, I lean my head on the back of the couch and I try to watch TV. But that doesn't last too long. The daytime soap is boring and hard to follow—mostly because the volume is so low the dialogue sounds like mumbling. Eventually, I give up trying to follow it and tune it out instead.

The calmness of the apartment makes my mind wander. It isn't long until start thinking about things better left alone and that's when my thoughts turn to Danny.

XX

Now, I told you before how straight I used to be—or how straight I thought I was. Well, that all changed when I met Danny. He was one of those heavy hitters I was talkin' about. Shit, he was THE heavy hitter.

Let me start off by sayin' I've always been attracted to guys. The first time I remember being aware of it was in the eighth grade. The details aren't all that important but one thing is: even as young as I was, I knew with unwavering certainty that liking other boys was not an okay thing to do.

So, what did I do with this overwhelming new knowledge about myself? Well, I buried it deep down and wasted a whole lot of time actin' like I didn't feel that way.

As I got older, I started dating women, and eventually, started sleeping with women. I won't lie, I enjoyed it—most of the time. Sex with women was okay. It made me feel strong. Capable. In charge.

Sometimes that wasn't enough, though, and eventually—and especially after having my first encounter with a man in 'Nam—I began actively seeking out men.

Sex with men was so much more than just okay. It was exciting. Aggressive. Powerful. It was like having a violent rumble that ended with getting off. Good stuff.

So here I was, watchin' Hutch and Van's marriage fall apart, still doin' the silly little dance of telling myself—and everyone else—that I liked women when I really liked men. It wasn't a great way to live life but it was good enough, ya know?

Then I met Danny.

Danny was... Well, he was gorgeous for starters—green eyes, brown hair, fantastic body—but it was his confidence that really pulled me in.

Danny knew who he was, what he liked, and he didn't give a shit what anyone thought about it. He was so damn self-assured about liking men—he really owned himself ya know? And it got me thinking that maybe someday I could be like that too. Which was a nice thought—even if I didn't believe it was possible.

Who was I kidding? I was a cop. I had just about as much chance of owning my sexuality as Hutch did of keeping his deteriorating marriage together.

But I really enjoyed spending time with Danny. Suddenly, any time I had that wasn't filled up by work or Hutch, became reserved for Danny, and before I knew it, Danny and I... Well, Danny and I—very discreetly—had become an item.

Now, I know what you must be thinking. Here I am, sittin' on the couch holding my recovering partner and thinking about another dude. But it isn't like that. And just so you don't go and get the wrong impression, let me just say, Hutch knows all about Danny.

In fact, considering the way they met, I don't think Hutch will ever be able to forget Danny.

Xx

It's was August, midday, and hot as hell. I burned my hand on the metal handle unrolling Hutch's squeaky car window and it ignited my already short temper.

'Come on, Starsk.' Hutch smiled from the driver's seat of his LTD. 'Who was he?'

'Will you drop it?' I growled.

Sticking on my dark aviator sunglasses I wished the lenses could hide more than just my eyes. The day before Hutch had caught me in a very compromising position with a guy. Something that until then he had no idea I was into.

So, there we were—Danny and me—getting it on and it was so very on.

One second I'm staring up at the mirror on my ceiling watchin' as Danny was taken me in. We were groaning, sucking, and biting; it was good—really, really good—so good, in fact, that I didn't hear Hutch come in my apartment or call my name.

'Oh, shit!' I heard someone yell and it took me a second to realize it wasn't Danny.

I pulled my eyes from the mirror, set them on the doorway. Hutch was standing there. Red faced and frozen in shock. Staring at me as I was doing the dirty with Danny.

'Who are you?' Danny demanded pulling himself away from me and grabbing a pillow to cover himself. 'David? Who is that guy?!'

I couldn't answer. I was too mortified. Mouth wide open like an idiot I looked at Danny then at Hutch.

'Sorry! Sorry!' Hutch sputtered. Throwing his hand over his eyes he retreated frantically.

By the time I got my wits back Hutch was gone and Danny was on his way out.

I didn't sleep much that night. I was too worried about what was gonna happen when the morning came. This thing—me liken dudes—was something that I'd always wanted to tell Hutch. I just… the timing never seemed right, ya know?

But what I wouldn't have given to travel back and time, just to have a conversation with him. Out myself, my own way. Instead of having my partner walk in on me and Danny doing something that I'm pretty sure Hutch could have arrested us for.

I wanted to crawl under a rock and die. I was embarrassed and nervous. So nervous. Hutch left so quickly we didn't have time to talk any of it through. I wasn't sure how he felt about it or what he would do with the information.

Hutch was a forward thinking liberal, but this was 1974, and even I didn't expect him to be THAT open minded.

Laying in the dark, alone, I just knew he was gonna kick me to the curb and that was if he ever wanted to see me again.

But the next morning, Hutch showed up at my place. I'd never been so happy to see him in my life. Before I had a chance to explain myself he lifted a finger and stared deep into my eyes.

"Starsky," he said. "I just want to let you know that what you were doing last night… it doesn't matter to me. You're still my best friend and partner and your secret is safe with me…"

He went on and on but when he handed me a peace offering of a danish and coffee I quit listening; at that moment, staring into his big blue eyes, holding my favorite breakfast, and listening to him go on and on about how he 'was gonna love me no matter what' and it didn't matter to him who I let in my bed, I realized something very important: I loved Hutch—which was going to be a problem, because I was pretty sure I loved Danny too.

'Come on,' Hutch tried again as he turned his car into the Metro parking lot. He'd been hassling me about Danny the whole drive over. 'Aw Starsky,' he let out a deep sigh. 'It's no big deal. So you sleep with guys.'

'I do more than sleep,' I mumbled then regretted it. Hutch's eyes widened and got real quiet as he gripped the steering wheel tighter.

I kicked my feet against the floor and stared out the window. At that moment I wanted nothing more but to disappear.

"What does that mean?' Hutch glanced at me expectantly

I took in a breath, held it, and blew it out trying to ease the nervousness in my gut.

'That guy's name is Danny,' I confessed as I pretended to be really interested in the knob on his glove compartment. 'We've been seeing each other for a while now.'

'Like seeing?' Hutch asked quietly. 'Like dating seeing?' His mouth made a line and his face became guarded as he turned his attention to the windshield.

'Yeah,' I breathed. My stomach was in knots. Letting Hutch in on the secret I'd been trying so desperately to keep felt good but a part of me was still waiting for him to run away from me.

Hutch didn't say anything for a while after that. We both sat in silence in the parking lot of Metro. I watched as other officers made their way to and from the large building. I remember being jealous of them and how they were able to go forward with their day, unaffected by the weight of Hutch's discovery.

As much as Hutch had insisted that he didn't care who I was with or what I did on my own time, deep down I believed there was no way it could be true. How on earth could he look at me the same? I wasn't sure I did.

I could see his discomfort on his face. Occasionally seeking a night with a guy was one thing, but being together with a guy—being in love with a guy—was a step too far in his book. My heart was beating so quick I thought it would jump right out of my chest. I had to say something—anything—to break the silence.

'Look Hutch—"

'I wanna meet him,' he demanded suddenly.

'What?' My face scrunched in confusion. "Why?"

Hutch took a deep breath. 'I wanna talk to him.' He waved his hand around in the air. 'See what kinda guy he is. Make sure he's going to treat you okay.'

'What am I your virgin sister?!'

'Not after what I saw last night," Hutch snorted as he pulled himself from the car.

XX

"Babe?"

Hutch's whisper cuts through my thoughts and brings me back to living room.

The room is mostly dark. The TV is still on—turned down low—and the mumbling drama of the soaps have been replaced by the incoherent humor of Welcome Back Kotter.

I look down and see Hutch considering me carefully. His forehead is creased with pain but his eyes are soft and understanding.

"What are you thinking about, baby?" he asks. "What's with the serious face?"

"Uh, nothin'." I smile even though I don't feel very happy. I clear my throat and force a smile. "Just shadows."

"Hm." Hutch grunts but he doesn't push anymore.

Grimacing, Hutch pulls his head off my lap and I stand up.

"How the leg?" I yawn, throwing my arms out in a wide stretch.

"Hmm." Hutch says again. The sound isn't much but it's enough to let me know he's hurting like hell.

"Well." I glance the Seiko on my wrist. "It's about time for more pain meds."

Hutch groans, wipes his hand across his face, and I gear up for the same old argument.

"No," he whispers.

"Yes."

"No," he repeats a little more forcefully. "Starsk, please," he pleads through clenched teeth. He's tired, hurting, and getting frustrated. "I—I don't like them."

I want to let it go. I really do. But his eyes are screaming in pain and there is no way I'm going to let him skip his meds. He's gonna take them, even if I got to shove them down his throat.

"Babe," I start. "You'll be fine. I promise you. You had surgery four days ago. You're in pain. Please take the pills."

His eyes darkening, Hutch's lips form a familiar line. I know I have to tread carefully because—despite his pain—his stubbornness is kicking in. Not arguing with a stubborn Hutch is nearly impossible, under normal circumstances, and the last thing I want to do is start a fight.

"Okay," I sigh and look down at him seriously. "How about a big pile of French fries and then the pills?"

Hutch looks at me poker-faced. This is a game he plays. He wants the fries, but he doesn't want to want to fries. So he has to act all wishy-washy for a few moments—just long enough for me to think he doesn't want them, and for me to decide he needs them. He won't say yes. He's waiting for me to do it for him.

"I'm gonna call Huggy's," I say finally, and Hutch's mouth curves in a smile.

Do I know my guy or what?

Xx

It's late. Hutch is shirtless and lying in bed. Standing next to him I hand over his pain meds and a glass of water.

"Down the hatch, Pal," I instruct firmly as Hutch looks nervously at the small pill in the palm of his hand.

He stares a moment more and brace myself for a fight. But it doesn't come.

Tossing the pill down Hutch takes a drink. He finishes the glass before reaching out and trying to set it on the nightstand. He can't quite reach, and hiding my smile, I take it and place it there for him.

"Thanks," he says quietly. He fidgets a little in the bed tryin' to get comfortable.

I pull off my socks, shirt, and jeans. Picking up Hutch's dirty clothes from the floor, I throw all the stuff in the laundry basket, switch off the light, and crawl into bed.

Lying next to him, I rearrange the blanket while tryin' not to move too much. I don't wanna jostle the bed and hurt Hutch. When I finally get settled, he takes my hand and squeezes.

"Thanks, babe," he whispers sleepily.

"For what?"

"For supporting me though this," he pauses on a yawn. "And for loving me as much as you do."

I smile. And, boy, do I love him.

So I told you about Hutch finding out about Danny. I'm sure your waiting to hear how they met. But I'm not going to tell you about that night, because there really isn't much to say.

The three of us went to Huggy's. Beer and pool. The night was normal and completely anticlimactic. They met each other, hit it off, and by the end of it the three of us had become a trio—outside of the bedrooms of course.

That night was a new beginning for me. The two most important people in my life had become friends, and I didn't have to hide anything from either of them. It was freeing, and I was happy. So incredibly happy.

That is until Danny brought it up.

It was a lazy Saturday afternoon, about six weeks after Danny and Hutch had met. Danny and I were sprawled out on the couch. He was readin' and I watching TV but what we were both really interested in was each other—if you know what I mean.

I sat there. Then threw my arm around him. He smiled at me. I smiled at him. He moved a little closer to me. I bit my lower lip and grasped his upper thigh. Danny turned to face me. He opened his mouth and…

"So," Danny started. "Have you and Hutch ever slept together?"

My face fell.

I had expect something sexy. Not that I didn't think Hutch was but I didn't really think he was a sexy topic Danny would appreciate. I felt a sudden panic in my chest at the thought that my secret attraction and love for my work partner wasn't as secret as I'd hoped.

And then Danny's question really sunk in and all I felt was confusion. Was Danny saying this because he was jealous or did he know something I didn't?

"What?" I finally breathed. I shook my head frantically. "Jesus, no. Danny, Hutch is straight."

"Yeah," Danny snorted. Leaning our shoulders together, he grinned and winked at me—like we were talking about some secret everyone was in on. "Me too."

I couldn't say anything at first. I was too shocked. Danny was saying that Hutch was gay. But that couldn't be. And if it was, how the hell didn't I know about it?

"Why would you say that?" I asked seriously.

And that was when the humor left Danny's face and let out a heavy breath.

"Oh," he said as he looked at the TV. "You didn't know."

"How did you know?!" I barked as I grabbed my almost full beer off the coffee table.

Danny bit his lip and avoided my eyes.

My brain was goin' about a mile a second, and I think I drank that beer in record time. It was gone and I was hallway to the fridge to grab another when Danny spoke again.

"I'm sorry," Danny said softly. "You shouldn't have had to find out like that."

Slamming the fridge shut, I turned and looked at him. Suddenly one question was screaming in my brain and I had to know the answer.

"Have you slept with him?" I demanded furiously. I vividly remember thinkin he better say no.

"David…" Danny groaned. Making his way over to me, he pulled the beer out of my hand and set it on the counter. Then he grasped me by the shoulders and stared into my eyes. "No, babe, I haven't slept with him. I'm sorry I thought you knew."

"How do you know?" I pleaded.

Inside I was praying it wasn't true. It couldn't be true. What the hell was I going to do if it was true?

If Hutch was gay, why wouldn't he tell me? I was his best friend. His partner. And besides if he was gay why wouldn't he have said anything when he caught Danny and me… you know.

And what about Danny? I loved Danny—he was mine—if Hutch was gay where would that leave Danny? And more importantly where would it leave me?

"I've seen him around… places," Danny whispered sadly. "And I know a guy who knows a guy, who used to be his regular fool-around guy."

If the meaning of the words hadn't been so serious, I may have laughed at the ridiculousness of the statement. But laughter was the furthest thing from my mind, because with those words, spoken by the man I loved—about the man I was secretly in love with—my world shattered.

TCB

We're a week out from Hutch's surgery. He's still using crutches and taking pain meds but he's gettin' around okay enough and he's stopped making such a fuss over the pills—which is a bigger relief to me than he will ever know. I was getting sick of walking on eggshells and avoiding arguments.

Today is my first day back at work. Being at Metro without Hutch is weird, boring, and a little nerve-wracking.

Hutch won't be back on the roster for another month or two. If his doctor approves it he can probably come back for half days of desk duty in a few more weeks, but that's way worse than not workin' at all if you ask me.

I hate the thought of Hutch spending his days alone. But I'm planning on stopping by to check on him every day around lunchtime so, it isn't as if he's really gonna alone all day.

I feel pretty bad for admitting this, but I was kinda looking forward to comin' back to work. With my partner out, there was a chance that Dobey would loan me out to Vice or assign me a temporary partner. Don't get me wrong, I love Hutch and he's the best partner I could hope for, but sometimes it's nice to mix things up a bit. And between you and me, I think Hutch is just as eager for a little alone time.

My excitement over returning to work was short-lived. Dobey crushed my dreams of mixin' up routine before I even finished my morning cup of coffee.

"Here," Dobey said dropping a massive pile of paperwork on my desk.

"What is that?" I scowled up at him. I felt a tightness in my stomach when he grinned back. He looked a little too happy for Monday morning—I was in trouble for sure.

"Those," he pointed at the papers. "Are all the unfinished reports and files you and your partner have been neglecting for the last six months. When Hutchinson returns the three of us are going to have a very detailed discussion about report expectations."

"Expectations?"

"Expectations," Dobey repeats with wide smile. He's pretty pleased with himself.

"But Cap," I tried. "I thought you were gonna stick me somewhere… useful? Ya know, catchin' bad guys." I tapped my hand on the dreaded pile of papers. "This is really something Hutch and me should be doin' together. I mean after all, we did the busts together."

Dobey pursed his lips and I could tell he was considering my words. I was getting' ready for him to agree with me when he opened his mouth and dismissed my plea.

"Hutchinson isn't here and you are," he instructed firmly. "And when you're done with this pile I have another one for you."

"Terrific."

Looking at me expectantly, Dobey lingered by my desk. I smiled at him—hoping he'd leave me in peace, which he did—and the second his back was turned I stuck my tongue out at him. It was very satisfying.

A lot more satisfying than this paperwork anyway. It's been five hours since Dobey handed it off and I've barely made dent in the first pile. This whole situation is just great. I'm partner-less and stuck pushing papers and finishing reports—that Hutch is half responsible for—for the foreseeable future.

The problem with paperwork and being stuck in the squad room in the early afternoon is that it's so damn quiet. Most of the other officers are out on calls and the ones who are left are boring. They're always too focused on the work in front of them to provide any entertainment. I try to engage this one guy, Mack, but he just gives me a dirty look and growls that he's too busy to 'play with me' today.

I mumble something unflattering about him on the way back to my desk, then pick up the phone to check in on my partner—or at least that's how I justify it to myself. Really, I'm lonely, I miss him, and I wanna to hear his voice.

The phone rings a few times and I lean back in my chair and kick my feet up on the desk.

"Hello?" Comes Hutch's quiet voice.

"Hey, Pal," I smile into the phone. "How you doin'?"

"Starsky," Hutch answers. "I'm fine. Doing just the same I was when you left after lunch, thirty minutes ago."

I bite my bottom lip. Okay… not the reception I was going for. His tone is one I know well. He's irritated but tryin' really hard not to show it, because what kind of asshole would he be if his loving partner called to check in on him and make sure he was all right and he flipped out on him within the first two minutes of the call.

"Terrific," I answer with forced cheerfulness. "I… just wanted to make sure."

Despite being snookered on pain pills it was Hutch's turn to pick up on my tone of voice.

"Babe?" he asks softly. "What's buggin' you?"

"Nothin'," I sigh. I hold the phone between my ear and shoulder and pick at a hole in the knee of my jeans.

"Starsky."

Just like always, Hutch knows when I'm not telling the whole truth.

"Okay," I sigh. Dropping my feet from the desk. I look at Mack to make sure he's not eavesdropping. Finding him completely immersed in the papers on his desk, I turn my chair to face Dobey's office door and continue in a quiet whisper. "I'm bored."

"I thought Dobey stuck you with all that paperwork?"

"Oh he did," I snort. "It's just…" Pausing I bite by lip. Suddenly I'm feelin' a little silly calling Hutch for reassurance when he's the one stuck at home with a bum leg.

"First day back turning out to be harder than you expected?" Hutch asks in that reassuring tone of his.

"Yeah."

"Well," he continued. "You've almost made it through. Just a few more hours and you can return to fulfilling my every whim."

"Not a chance, Blintz," I tease. "You're practically mobile. In fact, I'm gettin' ready to evict you from my apartment."

"Oh, yeah?" Hutch laughs.

"Yeah."

I smile at the ease of our conversation but I'm reminded of a time when things between us were a lot more complicated.

Danny's disclosure of Hutch's secret solicitation of guys shattered me. If I'm completely honest, it really hurt me—and probably more than it should have.

You know how sometimes you know something in the back of your mind but you don't really know you know it until it's right in front of your face?

That's exactly how it was when I found out Hutch liked men. At first I didn't believe it. I didn't want to believe it. Eventually I had to though, because after the conversation with Danny, a lot of details about Hutch started adding up.

Let me start off by saying, in my experience, there are two types of closeted gay gays. The first are the guys like me—Danny calls us wild cards—we're the guys who you would never ever be able to pick out of the crowd. The way we walk, talk, the clothes we wear, our hobbies, everything about us screams straight. Well, everything except the people we sleep with.

The second kind are the guys who have a lot of gay tendencies. You could probably call their sexual orientation if you spent enough time with them AND you knew what to look for—these are the guys who usually hide behind good upbringings and better education. These guys are almost always high class folks—or at least they want to be—and people never really look closely at them because they're cultured. They're intellectuals.

Now, I don't really wanna say that Hutch had a lot of gay tendencies… But when I started looking closely, Hutch had an awful lot of gay tendencies.

Like his propensity of being the best dressed man in the room. We were undercover cops, not a lot of cause for an infinite supply of tight leather jackets and anything other than jeans. But every day, come rain or shine, undercover assignment or stake-out, Hutch showed up to work lookin' like he walked out of a Montgomery Ward catalogue.

Then there were his interests. He liked theater, the symphony, he was super into his diet, and he had an absurd obsession with fitness. Shit, if you really started looking close enough and through the right lens, Hutch had a lot of things that made him look very gay.

But the biggest, most glaring elephant in the room was the overwhelming guilt he felt when his marriage was over. Don't get me wrong, I'm not sayin' that the guy didn't have the right to be sad or say he acted in a way he shouldn't have, but Hutch's guilt seemed a little out of proportion, considering how terrible Van had been to him while they were married.

Then there was the other thing that struck me. Hutch's reaction when he found out I liked guys. As appreciated at it was, it was odd too. He had been so loving and excepting—two things that are not exactly expecting the day after a big reveal like that.

I wanted so badly to talk to Hutch about what Danny told me but I couldn't find the courage, you know? Asking somebody a question like that, well, it isn't as easy as it would seem. Those kinds of questions change everything—no matter how much you don't want them to.

So, I guess you can say I took the coward's way out and kept my mouth shut. Every day I would watch him, keeping a running tally in my head of all the things he did that could indicate he was gay, and wonder what else he was keepin' secret. As time went on an odd tension started settling between us.

Danny dropped the subject of Hutch's secret after the night he told me. He tried his best to never mention it again but I had become so fixated on it, and my list of things about Hutch, that it wasn't long until it was all we ever seemed to talk about.

It annoyed Danny—I knew that—I still couldn't seem to stop myself though. And Danny, well, he knew how much the whole thing bothered me, and I think that's why he put up with it—for a while.

It wasn't long before he started wondering why I cared so much about Hutch's preferences, if I loved him as much as I claimed. That put stress on our relationship. We started fighting. We didn't break up—I still loved him like crazy despite my reservations with Hutch's secret.

I still remember the fight—I will never be able to forget this fight. Danny was so angry. We were standing in my kitchen. Danny was helping me with the dishes—he was washing, I was drying. Strange the things you remember.

I was jumping back into the subject of Hutch for the millionth time when Danny slammed a rinsed plate back into the sink of soapy water and turned fire-filled eyes on me.

"David," he seethed. "Will you please stop obsessing over this?"

"I don't know what you're talkin' about," I lied, swiping the dishcloth over a coffee cup and putting it away.

"Bullshit," Danny countered. He bit his bottom lip and returned to purposefully wash the rest of the dishes.

When I had put the last plate in the cupboard, Danny took the towel off my shoulder, dried his hands, and looked at me seriously.

"He doesn't love you, baby," he whispered. "No amount of obsessing over why he won't tell you the truth is going to change that."

I am pretty sure my stomach hit my ankles when he said that to me. I swear I wanted to cry, not just because Danny knew why I had been so fixated on Hutch and his secret, but also because I knew he was right.

"But—"

"He doesn't love you," Danny interrupted firmly. His face softened and he smoothed his thumb to caress my stubbled cheek. "But I do."

Now, I've told you a few times that I loved Danny, but this moment—in my kitchen—this was the first time that the emotion had ever been voiced, by either of us.

His hand cupping my cheek, Danny stared at me expectantly. I knew he wanted me to tell him I loved him too. And I really did love him, but I was confused and upset with Hutch. I didn't know what I felt or why.

XX

Hutch is all smiles when I pick him up from his physical therapy appointment. He tells me the therapist says he's got a 'good range of motion' and that he can start backin' off the crutches. He's delighted, and isn't long before his good mood becomes our good mood.

We're at Hutch's apartment this week. I got sick of running back and forth between places—grabbing the things he forgot to bring over and watering his damn plants. Hutch is more mobile now, and his 'good range of motion' makes gettin' from one apartment to another easier.

Hutch is sitting in the green house fiddling with his plants. I can hear him talkin' and carrying on at them while I put away our clean laundry.

I tell you what, I love my partner but he is a slob with a capital S. He's gotten better since we've been together but I think that's just because I'm around a pitch in with the cleaning, and Hutch does most of the cooking, so I can't really complain.

I guess that's what love really is. Two people who care about each other takin' care of the other in their own way. I clean, he cooks, and everything else evens out in the end.

I lean down to stuff his jeans in the bottom drawer when Hutch busts out a verse of Leo Sayer's You Make Me Feel Like Dancing. I'm so surprised by the high-pitched squeaky sound of his voice that I drop the jeans on the floor and erupt into laughter.

"Shut up!" Hutch hollers warmly before resuming his chorus of Du, Du, Du, Du's.

I chuckle through putting the rest of the laundry away, and by the time I'm done, Hutch has moved on to another tune. Something a little more his style, Sunshine on My Shoulders by John Denver.

Making my way outside, I lean myself up against the entrance and listen to his rendition. It's beautiful—I'm not just saying that because I love the guy—something about Hutch and music, the two things go hand-in-hand. He writes his own stuff you know. And some of it is pretty good. He doesn't share it too often, though, and he's usually nervous when he does.

Hutch doesn't notice me until he finishes the song and looks up.

"Wanna be my roadie?" he grins.

"Sure," I laugh as I sit next to him. "Just let me know when your tour starts."

Picking up a potted plant—something small and leafy—Hutch spritzes it with water. He mumbles sweet nothings to it while I roll my eyes.

"How come you don't talk to me like that?" I joke.

"You start sprouting flowers and will talk to you like that." Putting the plant down, he points the spray bottle at me and smiles playfully. "Maybe you just need to be watered more."

"You better not, Pal," I warn. I even add an index finger, just for good measure.

"Or what?"

"Do it and find out." I growl playfully bumping our shoulders together.

"But you can't do anything to me," Hutch says with mock sadness. "I'm hurt."

"Yeah, but you're gettin' better every day," I counter. "Speaking of which, what's with the good mood?"

"I donno." He shrugs. "Can't I be in a good mood?"

"Hey, babe, I'm not complaining, this is the most upbeat you've been in weeks." I eye him suspiciously. "You seem a little too happy. Especially considering you were just cleared for part-time desk duty."

Hutch smiles. Throwing his arm around my shoulder, he pulls me in for a tender kiss.

"That's not all I was cleared for," he whispers in my ear. His voice is deep and smooth and it makes me tingle with excitement. "Of course," he continues, staring into my eyes and cupping my neck. "Nothing too strenuous and you're gonna have to do all the work."

After so long without sex, he doesn't have to ask twice. I kiss him deeply before pulling him up off the bench. I reach for the crutches propped up against the wall but Hutch shakes his head.

"Leave 'em," he whispers.

So I take both his hands and lead him—slowly—into the bedroom. And our good mood of the evening was multiplied to infinity.

Later, laying in the darkness with Hutch sleeping next to me, I can't help but think about Danny and the I love you I never said.

Standing in my kitchen, that night, Danny told me he loved me two more times—which is two more opportunities to pull my head out of my ass than he should have given me—and when I still didn't reciprocate his words, we fought and then he left.

I remember jumping at the sound of the door slamming shut, and thinking I should go after him. I didn't, though. I was too confused and pissed off.

I was angry at myself for not having the guts tell Danny how much he meant to me, and confused because I didn't know why Hutch would be keeping secrets from me or even why I cared so much. I knew I shouldn't have let Hutch's non-disclosure affect my relationship with the man I loved and who I knew loved me back.

Do you know what happens when you are home alone, at night, pissed off and confused?

Nothin' good that's for sure. I worked my way through all the beer in my fridge—which didn't seem like a lot but it was enough to affect my decision making ability.

I crushed the last empty can and tossed it on the growing pile in the trash. I wanted more, and another inspection of the fridge confirmed I was completely out.

Standing by the sink, I pulled my car keys out of my front pocket, then stuffed them back in. I was definitely too buzzed to drive.

I thought about calling Danny but even as inebriated as I was, I realized that calling and askin' him to bring beer was a bad, bad idea. And how was I really gonna ask him anyway? Just call and say, 'hey, babe, I know I just pissed you off by not declaring my love for you, but do you wanna bring me some alcohol so I can continue drowning my guilt and confusion?'

See? Bad idea. So I came up with a worse one. I called Hutch instead.

"Hello?" Hutch's voice sounded groggy.

"Hey," I slurred into the phone. "Wanna come over?"

Hutch's answer was heavy sigh.

"Come on," I tried. "I'm out of beer, and I need you to get some on the way."

"You sound like you've already had plenty," Hutch yawned out. "Besides it's pushing 11, buddy. Why don't you just go to bed?"

"Please?"

"Why don't you call your boyfriend and ask him to bring it to you?" Hutch countered deeply. His voice was smooth and comforting, and in that moment I didn't want Danny to bring me beer. I wanted Hutch.

"Because I'm askin' you," I pleaded in a whisper. Gripping the phone receiver, I closed my eyes tightly.

I was praying he'd come over and hoping he wouldn't. Nothing good would come if he did. I was too emotionally exhausted to deal with his dishonesty and too drunk to abide by the rules.

Hutch paused for a few minutes. Despite the silence I could still hear him tryin' to talk himself out of coming over. He thought it was a bad idea—his silence was proof of that.

"Okay," he said finally. "Give me a few."

It was pushing midnight by the time Hutch finally showed up. I was dosing on the couch when I heard the door shut and Hutch's groan of disappointment.

"Oh, come on!" he growled slamming the six pack of beer on the coffee table. I watched him through half-closed eyes as he picked up a throw pillow and started hitting me with it.

"Hey!" I croaked raising my arms protectively. "Stop it!"

"Wake up sleeping beauty!" he exclaimed. He was grinning but his eyes were livid.

As it turns out, dragging himself out of bed to bring his already drunk partner beer only to find him almost passed-out on the couch, was a bit infuriating in Hutch's book.

Hutch got a couple more hits in before giving up the pillow and sinking in the couch beside me.

"What am I doing here, Starsk?" he asked wiping his hand across his face. He turned in his seat and looked in the kitchen. "And where's Danny?"

"He went home," I mumbled out. Leaning forward, I grabbed a beer I held it up to him but he waved it off.

"What's the matter, you guys have fight or something?" Shimmying himself further in the couch cushions, Hutch propped his feet up on the coffee table and yawned.

"You could say that."

He looked at me expectantly as I popped the top of the beer can and took a drink.

"And?"

"And nothin'," I growled.

Suddenly I was angry again. Angry at Danny for leaving and irritated at myself for not makin' him stay. But most of all I was angry at Hutch for being a liar. I didn't mean to say the next words, they just sorta slipped out before I had a chance to stop them.

"I know all about your secret, Hutch."

Hutch didn't have to say anything. His reaction to my accusation was confirmation enough. His body tensed as his brows furrowed and his lips made a straight line. He didn't even ask me what I was takin' about. He already knew, and a few moments later, when he finally looked at me again, his eyes were full of dread.

"How did you find out?" he asked quietly.

"Danny."

Blowing out a deep breath, Hutch bit his lip and nodded. Rubbing at his chest he pulled his feet from the table, and turned his gaze to the floor.

"Don't you have anything to say to me?" I asked.

"Like what?"

"Like what?" I scoffed. Leaning forward in my seat I inched closer to him. He moved further away. "Like how…" I dropped off. Weeks of agonizing over my questions had done me no justice—I couldn't think of anything to say. So, instead, I said the only thing I could think of.

"I love you, you know," I whispered.

"I know." Hutch's eyes remained locked on the carpet.

My mouth fell open, my heart started beating a million miles a second, and my head swam with questions. He knew? Had I really been that obvious? And what about him, how did he feel about me?

"Well?" I demanded. Unable to sit still any longer I set my beer on the coffee table and picked at the knee of my jeans. "Don't ya love me too?"

Hutch let out heavy breath and my heart sank. All I could think about was how wrong this was. I loved him. He HAD to love me too. That was the way it was supposed to be.

"Starsky." Hutch looked at me sadly. "Of course I do. Just not in that—"

"Don't you love me too?!" I repeated desperately as I stood to tower over him. I bit my lip and hoped he'd rethink his answer.

This wasn't happening. This wasn't right. Hutch and me, we had a bond. We had chemistry and a connection that surpassed anything I'd ever felt before. Forget Danny—forget everything. Hutch HAD to love me too.

"Starsky." Hutch whispered as he stared into my eyes. "You need to stay with Danny."

And as soon as the words left his mouth I felt like ass. Here I was pining over my best friend when Danny loved me. He really loved me. Danny wanted me and Hutch obviously didn't.

XX

Things pretty much started fallin' apart after the night Hutch told me he didn't love me the way I loved him. As hard as it was to hear, it was even harder to live with. I just never imagined a world where Hutch didn't feel the same about me as I did him.

Facing Hutch the next day was hard. He didn't throw it in my face, though. He walked into the squad room that morning like nothing had changed between us—just like when he found out about me—I kept waiting for him to bring up our conversation but he never did.

Danny on the other hand was a different story. He avoided me for two days, not that it pissed me off or anything. The guy was entitled to be a little upset. Besides, I needed time to sort through my shit and decide what I was doin'.

As much as Hutch's rejection had hurt, my complete discard of Danny smarted more.

Danny had been so good to me. He listened as I obsessed about Hutch. He had been patient and caring, and how had I paid Danny back? Well, I obsessed over Hutch some more, refused to tell him how I felt, fought with him, and then confessed my love to Hutch.

Some boyfriend I was. I'm not sure I would have stayed with me, and in the end, Danny didn't either. That was one of the worst phone calls I've ever had in my life.

I had nobody to blame but myself for Danny leaving. I asked him if there was something I could do to change his mind. He said the only way we could still be together is if I terminate my partnership with Hutch. And that, we both knew, I wouldn't—couldn't—do.

Given the choice between being loved by Danny or being friends with Hutch, I was gonna choose my partner every time, because having Hutch as a friend was better than not havin' him at all.

"Well, then, David," Danny sighed into the phone. "I can't do this with you anymore."

Lying in bed, I gripped the phone receiver tightly as my heart dropped.

It was then that I knew, I didn't want to be with Danny but I didn't want to be without him either. It wasn't fair, why did Hutch have to be gay in the first place? If he'd just been straight I could have been perfectly happy being with Danny while being secretly in love with my partner.

"I'm sorry," I offered. "Danny, I… I'm sorry. I can't think of anything else to say."

"I know," Danny whispered back. "David…" he started then hesitated.

The silence between us was deafening. I avoided looking at my reflection the mirror that hung over my bed. I didn't want to see myself—it was too painful— so I focused on what had become Danny's side of the bed. Suddenly, as the mirror reflected not only the emptiness of the other side of the bed but also what I was feeling in my heart, I fought tears.

"David, you can't help how you feel," Danny said softly, and it was then I wanted nothing more but for him to come over and curl up in my arms. "I don't blame you."

"What?"

How in the hell could he not blame me? I reached my hand out and smoothed a palm over the pillow I was sure still smelled of his shampoo.

"It isn't your fault," he continued. "Not really anyway. That's the chance you take I suppose, when you're somebody's first—"

"You weren't my first!"

"David," Danny chuckled. "First real boyfriend… I took a chance when it came to you, and I knew full well how you felt about Hutch from the very beginning. In fact, I think I knew it before you did."

I snorted. It was doubtful that Danny knew before I did. I had been secretly loving Hutch for such a long time.

"If you knew how I felt about him then why did you tell me he was gay?" I demanded angrily, pinching the bridge of my nose. "Why would you tell me that?"

"Because you had a right to know," Danny countered calmly. "I always said you were a wild card… a chameleon. You have so much to learn about yourself, and I," he paused and I wondered how the hell he could be so understanding. "Well, I'm just sorry I won't be able to take that journey with you."

Suddenly, there wasn't anything else to say.

I sputtered out a few more tear-filled I'm sorry's. Danny said he forgave me but it didn't change anything. He asked if I was crying. I said no—I was. Then he asked if I was going to be okay. I said of course I was—we both knew I wasn't.

Then it was over. But not before Danny planted one more little seed in my brain.

"David, he loves you too. No matter what he says now, Hutch loves you too. I just don't think he knows it yet."

As much as that parting comment threw me into a tailspin of not understanding what was going on, losing Danny hurt. More than I think I can put into words. Danny wasn't bitter or angry. He just told me the truth, and the truth is sometimes hard to hear.

Danny said me he still loved me but he couldn't be with someone who didn't love him the way he deserved to be loved. That stung, mostly because it was true. I didn't love Danny the way he loved me. Just like Hutch didn't love me the way I loved him.

Sometimes life happens, there ain't nothin' you can do about it. You make choices—and mistakes—that you think are right at the time. Sometimes they end up workin' out, and sometimes they don't. But if you're lucky, fate has a masterplan. And moments like that—like the one when I lost Danny—those are the moments in life when you realize what you really care about, and in some way, you learn a little bit about who you really are.

Xx

Today is Hutch's first day back at work. He's a tall blond ball of nervous energy as he makes his way through my apartment—without crutches—to shower and get ready for the day. Tryin' my best to stay out of his way, I escape to the kitchen.

"Babe!" Hutch hollers from the bedroom.

"What?" I yell back scooping coffee grinds into the top of the coffee maker.

"Have you seen my plaid shirt?"

Have I seen his plaid shirt? What kind of question is that? Hutch has got a mountain of shirts that meet that description.

"Which one?" I scoff snapping the top back on the container of coffee grounds.

"The blue and black one."

The blue and black one. Of course he would want to wear that on his first day back to work. I roll my eyes and look at the blue and black flannel shirt covering my forearm.

"You can't wear that one, babe." I walk over to the fridge and grab a slice of leftover pizza from inside.

"Why not?" Hutch asks slowly walking bare-chested into the kitchen. Noticing my shirt he stops in his tracks. "Oh."

"Sorry." I shrug taking another bite pizza. I expect him to make some sassy comment about the pizza but he abstains. He's too excited to get back to his routine to comment on my eating habits. "I can change if you really wanna wear it today," I add.

Hutch throw up a hand. "It's okay." He smiles. "I got lots of shirts. Besides you look better in it anyway."

Now, that is a boldface lie. Hutch looks way better in any of the plaid shirts we happen to share than I ever will—but if you ask Hutch he'd probably say the same about me.

"Thanks." I finished my slice, kiss his cheek, and follow him to the bedroom to find another shirt.

Xx

Hutch's first day back is uneventful. Some might even say boring, but not me. I have my partner back, and he's sitting opposite of me in the squad room.

Hutch has only been cleared for desk duty and you'd think he'd be crabby or short tempered with being on such a short leash, only he's not. He's chipper and smiley the whole day.

Well…almost the whole day. I think the stack of paperwork I didn't quit get finished is deflating his mood—just a bit.

"Starsky," Hutch sighs heavily. I look up and he tilts his head and gives me a look that lets me know he's annoyed. "What exactly did you do while I was out?"

Now, that kind of question should bother me. What did I do while he was out? Well… I worked my way through more paperwork than one man should have to be responsible for on his own and then I went home to wait on him hand and foot. Some nerve he has questioning me about it now.

"Hey!" I exclaim dropping my half-eaten burrito to the plate on the desk. I pull the napkin from the collar of my shirt and wipe at my hands before pointing at the massive pile of papers scattered across our shared space. "This is the third pile Dobey gave me! The third, which means I got through two on my own. You joined in on this action when I was nearin' the finish line."

"The finish line, huh?" Hutch teases, his eyes brow raising. "What is this a race now?"

"Yeah, and I'm winnin'." I wink at him, then take a few files off the massive stack and put them on his side of the desk. "Time for you to catch up."

Tapping the tip of his pencil on the new files, Hutch grins. His sparkling eyes tell me he's enjoining the banter. I smile back at him 'cuz I'm enjoying it too. It's been too long since we've bickered over something work related.

"Fine," he says finally blowing out an exaggerated breath. "But only because I'm better at this sort of thing."

"Gotta stick with your strengths, Pal." I nod in agreement.

Hutch kicks me under the desk, and I smile in spite of the pain. It's good to know that leg is healin' up like it should.

XX

Nighttime has fallen over the city. It might seem lonely and cold to someone else but not to me. We're finally back on the streets—Hutch and me—and rollin' around in the Torino, in the darkness of the early morning hours, has never felt so right.

Hutch's window is wide-open. He's restin' his arm on the top of the sill. The crisp air is blowing through his blond hair leaving it messed. I sneak peeks at him here and there, just because I can't believe we're finally back here. Well, that, and he looks terrific illuminated by the light of the moon.

"Will you stop," Hutch laughs. His nose scrunches up as he grins at me.

"What?" I ask innocently.

"You need to spend less time watching me, and more paying attention to what's going on out there." He nods at deserted sidewalk.

"I don't know what you're talkin' about." I lift my hand and indicate at the empty road in front of us. "Why would I be lookin' at your ugly mug when there is all this activity goin' on around us?"

"Yeah." Hutch laughs. Swiping a hand cross his face he adds. "Ugly, huh?"

"Sure." I joke. Glancing at him again, I find such a look of love in his eyes that I find myself retracting my statement. "Well, ugly in a terrific kinda way," I mutter before I can stop myself.

"Oh!" Hutch laughs heartily at the soap I just dropped on him, and I can feel myself blush. "It is gonna be that kinda night, babe?" he asks gripping my thigh.

"Maybe, if you say the right things." I shrug and wink at him. "And if you think your leg is up to a gymnastics session in my back seat."

"Oh, don't you worry about me, Partner," he growls playfully. "I think you know just how much flexibility I've regained."

Man, this car ride is turning into a real love fest. Not that soap is always a bad thing, but there's a time and place to be tradin' insults that turn into complements, that turn into sexual advances, and the front seat of my car while we're on duty is not it.

But I think I'll make an acceptation tonight. Maybe I can blame it on the moonlight, how happy I am that things are back to normal, and how lucky I feel to have Hutch lovin' me the way he does.

I recognize the intro to Just the Way You Are as it starts playin' on the radio. I smile because the song always reminds me of Hutch. I hum along with the first coupla of lines before reaching out to turn it up. My fingers brush across Hutch's hand 'cuz he's doin' the same thing, and we both laugh.

"I really like this song," he says softly.

I pull my hand back and smile at him.

"Me too."

He fidgets a little, then throws his arm across the back of my seat. His hand trails down and he palms my neck, squeezing and massaging.

And just like that, we're quiet for a while. The calmness of the night turns my thoughts to other things. Like when Hutch told me how scared he was about his knee surgery and taken pain medicine again.

It's funny how separate events in your life can be connected to one another. Like how Hutch's time with Forest and his fear of painkillers is connected to me and my need to tell our story now.

In the end, Danny was right. Hutch did love me too. Although, it took Hutch almost a year to finally tell me. I know now, that was probably for the best. We both had a few more mistakes to make and some changes to go through before we were really ready to love each other.

I didn't date another man after Danny—I still would hit up my list of secret places, have a one night stand every now and again, but somehow it wasn't enough anymore. I wanted something else. Someone I could love and who loved me back.

Hutch was goin' through his own growing pains. Although we never talked about it, I knew he was spending time with men. At the time he just wasn't quite ready to accept himself for who he was. He'd date women and sleep with men on the side.

Everything changed when Hutch started dating Jeanie.

Hutch seemed so happy with her; they really looked like they fit together. Hutch didn't love her, not really, but was she close enough to what he thought he wanted and it was enough for him at the time.

After seenin' Hutch—tryin' so hard to be happy with Jeanie—I decided that maybe it was time for me to try dating women again too. I saw a few ladies here and there. None of them seemed to stick, though. Jeanie didn't end up sticking with Hutch either.

But I did.

The night after Hutch said his good-bye to Jeanie, I took him back to my place. He was big pile of mush and fatigue. Beaten up and bruised from what he'd endured. He didn't talk much on the ride over. It wasn't until he came out of my bathroom, freshly showered and lookin' like a slight breeze could tip him over, that he really spoke to me again.

"Starsky," he sighed as he leaned himself against my kitchen counter and rubbed at his eyes.

"Hey, Pal." I smiled as I squeezed his shoulder. "How 'bout you go lay down in my bed and get some sleep before you pass out."

"Okay." Hutch closed his eyes in exhaustion. "But can you…" he hesitated and bit his bottom lip. Resting his weight on his forearms, he ran his hands through his wet hair.

"Can I what, partner?"

Slowly pulling himself from the kitchen counter, Hutch looked at me with tired eyes. He considered me for moment before reaching his hand out and cupping my cheek.

I stood frozen in place. Not quite understanding what he was doin'. I knew he was shattered from what he'd been through but there was something so foreign in the way he was looking at me. It wasn't bad, just different.

As Hutch moved closer to me, and the space between us became smaller and smaller, he started talkin' again.

"Starsk," he whispered, his voice deep. "I feel like I should miss you. I haven't seen you in days. But I don't, because you're always with me. You were with me before and you're here now."

"Uhh," I responded, my eyebrows shooting up from his ramblings. I didn't know what he was sayin'. I thought he was having some kind of breakdown from comin' off the drugs. "I was with you," I continued softly. "Remember, at Huggy's, when you were comin' down—"

"No." Hutch interrupted, his voice strong, determined. "I'm tired. A—and I'm not saying this right." He shook his head and tried again. "Starsky, I—I want you to be with me."

He moved his thumb to caress my lips and that was when I realized he wasn't talkin' about Huggy's. I wasn't even sure he was talkin' about Forest.

There, standing in my kitchen, just about ready to crumple to the floor from exhaustion, Hutch was talkin' about us. A very different version than either of us had known before.

"What are you sayin', Hutch?" I asked calmly even though my heart was getting ready to beat right out of my chest. "Do you even know what you're sayin'?"

Hutch didn't answer. Instead, he licked his lips, grabbed both my cheeks, and kissed me.

It's funny how things work out in the end. How sometimes if you're luckily, traumatic moments can sometimes flip and turn into something else.

Later Hutch would tell me that while he was with Forest and his flunkies—and they were shootin' him full that stuff. He was flyin' and forgetting his troubles and even who he was—he wasn't scared. Not really, because he knew deep down, one way or another, I would find him and then everything would be okay.

And eventually it was.

I picked him from that dirty alley that day. I took him back to room above Huggy's. I held him close to me. I watched as he came off of that shit. And when he was out of his head begging for more of that junk, I was there—to tell him that he didn't need it. And despite his foggy and confused brain, that was when Hutch knew everything was going to be okay. Because I was there, and I was gonna hold, love, and tell him who he really was again—something that only I could do, because I was the only one who really knew him for who he was—And in that way, I was with him. I would always be with him.

"What are you thinkin' about, baby?" Hutch's low whisper brings be back to the Torino. I feel his thumb caressing the back of my neck. "Anything good?"

"A little bit of everything," I say. "But mostly how much I love you."

"Oh, that is good."

Pulling his hand from my shoulder, Hutch grabs one of mine from the steering wheel. He laces our fingers together and rests our hands his lap. It's a simple gesture, and even though it's hidden under the cover of darkness, it affirms his love for me—our love for each other.

We stop at a red light and I look into his eyes. There I see everything I need to. His love, passion, and honesty. He's my past and my future. He's everything I want but more importantly he's everything I need.

And suddenly, I'm grateful. For the good times and the bad. For everything that we had to endure just so we could make it where we are now. Because there's nowhere else I'd rather be.

END