To all my lovely friends out there. I wasn't going to write any more. RL and health get in the way! But having spent a whole 24 hours without tapping at my laptop, I realised I enjoy it too much. So I thought I'd enjoy myself even more and have the boys at home (my home) for a change. This story isn't one of my usual dark ones. It's an exploration of emotions and relationships, with good old Lancashire thrown in for good measure. Please forgive me if I'm indulging myself, and I hope you enjoy!

Many thanks as always to my hsband, who allows me to write and to my good friends who write to encourage me - Delia, Shawne, Strut, Brook and Nelleke (and those others I havenn't mentioned here - thanks ladies!

Chapter 1

'Come and look out through the window

That big old moon is shinin' down

Tell me now don't it remind you

Of a blanket on the ground'.

The blond detective drove smoothly through the streets of down town Bay City, his fingers drumming along on the steering wheel in time to the song. His voice was silky smooth and mellow as he sung along to Billie Jo Spears on the radio and his golden head bobbed to the beat. Wishing he had his guitar with him, he eased his brown Ford LTD rust bucket around the corner and onto the road which lead to his partner's apartment. Taking in the cool sunny morning and quiet roads, Hutch smiled to himself. Life was good. Since he'd been seeing his new girlfriend, he'd been doing more singing and last night he and Liz, and Starsky and Ross had been to 'The Ranch', a new Country and Western bar in town. There'd been a spot for audience members to participate and he'd been persuaded to get up on stage and sing 'Blanket on the Ground', strumming along on a borrowed guitar. And now here it was on the radio this morning. The song had gone down well last night and the whole gig made him feel good. He'd even joked that if he ever stopped wanting to be a cop, he could always take up singing as a career. Starsky joked that if Hutch became a singer, he'd become a TV film director and specialise in Cop shows.

He pulled his car up outside Starsky's apartment and looked up at the window, noting the curtains were still drawn. With a sly smile, he got out of the car and bounded up the steps. Starsky had been seeing Ross for a few months now and was so happy with her. Hutch had convinced himself that this was the girl the brunette would settle down with. They were well matched. He was the epitome of tall, dark and handsome.

At 5' 11" and of slim but muscular build, he had always been a bit of a magnet for women. Along with his wide smile, the mahogany coloured curls and deep, almost navy, blue eyes made females melt. Although he knew he wasn't ugly, it always came as a bit of a surprise to the brunette that women found him so attractive. And that very self deprecating attitude was another thing that drove the opposite sex mad for him.

Ross was willowy tall and slim, with long blond hair and blue eyes. She had moved in a couple of weeks ago and Hutch had never seen his partner happier. Although Starsky was always a live wire, a fun loving guy who had a wacky sense of humour, Ross had brought something else to the dark haired detective's life, a different dimension and Hutch was happy for his partner.

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Inside, the brunette was still curled up in his bed. He and Ross had got home late. Ross had been a little tipsy and they'd had a row. Nothing too major but Starsky hated any ill feeling. It probably stemmed from the rows he and Nicky used to hear his Mom and Dad have, when his Dad came back tired from a day policing New York's streets. He hated getting Ross angry, not least because, he had to admit, she had a temper. Now he curled his body round his girlfriend's, spooning into her and smelling the scent of her hair, pushing his hips towards her, to get that extra inch closer, and nuzzling against her neck. He was warm and sleepy and content and he gently ran his fingers up and down her arm, loving the feel of having her all to himself, trying to forget what happened last night. The bed was so comfortable and he nestled his curly head back against the pillow, a slight smile on his face. As he brought his right arm up to caress Ross' cheek, he caught sight of his watch. Shit, he was late again! His partner was really going to be mad; this was the third time this week.

Carefully, so as not to disturb the sleeping woman, he slid his bare leg out of the bed, his feet hitting the cool tile in the bedroom. Rising gingerly, he looked at the deep scratch on his left wrist, glad that it wasn't bleeding any more. He went to his tidy closet and took out his palest blue jeans and a long sleeved blue denim shirt. Buttoning it to mid chest level and leaving some of the dark brown curly hair there exposed, he carefully buttoned the cuffs and checked himself in the mirror – good, the sleeves hid the scratch.

As he was reaching for his holster, he saw the blonde's shadow at the front door. Quickly crossing the room, he opened the door just as Hutch was about to knock. There had been a time when the blond would have just walked in to his partner's place, but since Ross, he respected the smaller man's privacy, and had taken to waiting to be invited in.

Starsky put his fingers to his lips and shushed. 'Ross is still sleeping' he whispered as he stepped outside and pulled the door closed behind him.

Once down the steps, the two detectives swapped Hutch's non- descript brown heap for Starsky's flashy, powerful Ford Gran Torino with the big V8 engine. Hutch knew that Starsky loved his car almost as much as he loved Ross and whenever possible, the two men used the striped tomato, just so that the brunette had the joy of driving it. The fact that it was well known on the streets helped a little too. The snitches the two detectives used understood that when they saw the Torino they'd get a fair hearing. Word on the streets was that if you treated Starsky and Hutch right, they'd be straight with you.

As they got into the car and pulled away, the brunette nodded to his partner. 'Mornin' Blondie. How's the Crooning Blintz this morning?' he smiled.

Hutch smiled back. 'Couldn't be better, Gordo. Liz and I had a good night' he wiggled his eye brows.

'Know what ya mean', agreed the smaller man. 'It was a good night. Ya know you've got a real talent there. If they put a paper bag over you're head, you could pass for a real Country and Western singer, as long as ya don't sing that 'Black Bean Soup' crap'.

He ducked as the blond landed a playful punch on his arm. His partner crossed his eyes in mock frustration. 'Not talking about the singing, Gordo. The night just seemed to get better and better'.

Hutch noticed the slight pause before the brunette agreed. Silence ensued. Suddenly Starsky flung the car round in a wide arc and pulled up by the opposite sidewalk.

'What the hell?' Hutch exclaimed, rubbing the side of his head that had made contact with the window.

'That's Mickey. He should have some information on the arms shipment we've been watching. If anyone knows, he will'.

'Hmph' the blond managed. Just give a gut a little warnin', will ya?'

The men got out of the car and walked over to the little man. He watched as they approached, fiddling with the sleeve of his jacket and looking at them under his brows. Starsky trotted round the back of the car and, with his customary strut of a walk, joined his taller partner.

'Hey Starsky, Hutch' the little man said, nervously. 'You, ah…….you want somethin'?' He backed up against the wall and the detectives could see the slight tremble in the snitch's hands as he propped himself against it.

'Just catchin' up, Mickey' the brunette said, peaceably. 'You OK? Ya look a little off'.

'I'm fine' he replied, sniffing and rubbing his nose. 'You ah……you got a couple of dollars, Mr Starsky. I could do with a cigarette, ya know'.

Starsky nodded and reached into his back jeans pocket for his wallet. Peeling of a $10 bill, he waved it in front of the snitch. 'What do ya know about the arms shipment that was due in yesterday, Mickey?' he asked reasonably.

The little man shook his head, never taking his eyes off the money. 'N nothin'. I don't know nothing, honest'.

'You're sure now?' The two men looked at each other, knowing that if they pushed too hard, the little man would tip over the edge, his drug and drink addictions making him vulnerable and shaky.

'OK Mickey, if you hear anything, you know where to find us' the blond said. He turned away.

Mickey made a little noise of desperation as he saw the easy money walking away. Starsky turned back, knowing how much the little man was hurting. He handed the money over.

'Go get yourself a meal and a cup of coffee, Mickey. Try an' look after yourself, OK?'

The little man nodded eagerly. 'OK, thanks Starsky, I'll ah…..I'll go get somethin' now'. The brunette nodded, knowing that the money would be spent on Mickey's next score, rather than anything nutritious.

The two detectives got back into the car and set off again. The blond looked over at his partner.

'You're a real soft touch, ya know?' he said.

'Hey, I'm just a pussy cat' the brunette agreed. 'At least that's what Ross says!' He rubbed his wrist absently.

'Doesn't get us any closer to the answer though. Where do we go from here?'

'Well' Starsky replied, 'I haven't had breakfast yet, what say we go round to Huggy's. Maybe he's got something for us – apart from coffee and hamburgers' and he turned the car round the corner and drove along the road to The Pits.

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The black man was stood behind the bar of The Pits, cleaning glasses and replenishing supplies. He looked up and smiled as the two detectives walked into the bar and sat down at a table near the door. Picking up the coffee pot and two cups, he moved over to join them'.

'Hey Hug, how's things?' Hutch asked, taking the cup from him and setting it down on the table.

'Good, I think. Ya want something more than coffee?'

The brunette looked round. 'Don't see any hamburgers or burritos, so I'll pass. Unless you've had any information on the shipment yet?'

Huggy drew up a chair and sank his lanky frame onto it. He huddled over the table and took on a conspiratorial air. 'News is that Morito and his goons have been enjoying a little down time at 'The Pink Angels' downtown'., he told them.

'You mean the brothel out on the interstate? When?' Starsky asked

'Most nights this past week, so far as I know' Huggy replied.

The two men finished their coffee. 'Well, we know where we're headed now' the blond said as they left the black man sat at his table.

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On their way along the Interstate, they decided between them what approach to take.

'Softly, softly, I think' Starsky said, keeping his eyes on the road. 'We startle 'em and they'll tell us zip'.

'Agreed' his partner said, as the car pulled in to the motel at the side of the road. They got out and went towards the door.

As they got there, a pretty blond woman in a pink negligee opened the door and beckoned them in. They followed her into a hallway beautifully decorated in expensive grays and blues, with thick grey carpet on the floor. An older lady came towards them, fully clothed and beautifully made up. She smiled at them.

'What can I do for you gentlemen? We have a range of services here, catering to whatever taste you might have'. She motioned to the pink clad girl, who came forward and put her arms seductively round Starsky's neck, blew in his ear and ran a long nailed finger down the side of his neck.

He turned and looked her in the eye, growling low in his throat.

The blond stood back, amused. 'Down tiger' he said, turning to the older woman. He pulled his shield from his pocket and flashed it at her. Her face fell.

'Cops' she spat. 'You gonna close me down?'

Starsky pulled his attention from the girl round his neck and looked over to her.

'Nah, just need to ask you about some of your newer clientele. Couple of guys from down town. Might have been flashing their money round. Rumour has it they've been here every night this week'.

The Madam looked thoughtful. 'I don't think I remember anyone of that description' she said, obviously looking for something to make the information worthwhile.

Hutch smiled at her. 'Don't push it sweetheart' he said. 'We could close you down today, but we're not going to. We just need a couple of names, that's all'.

She knew when she'd met her match and her match was stood before her in the form of this tall muscular handsome blond man. She turned away and went to get her address and appointment book. Returning, she thumbed through the pages, pausing at a three names.

'Sam Morito, Frank Hewitt and Eric Slinger' she said. 'No address, but a telephone number 555 3349'.

The blond detective made a note in his notebook and Starsky disengaged himself from the pretty hooker, still smiling disarmingly at her. They made their way to the door, as the pretty woman slipped her card inside the brunette's pocket. 'Ya can come back any time ya like , sugar' she said. 'It could even be on the house, if ya know what I mean?'

Back outside, they got back into the car and Hutch called in the telephone number asking for a trace and a possible address.

'You OK, Gordo?' Hutch asked, seeing his partner yawning and realizing he looked tired.

'Yeah, sure. Just a bit tired. Think I might knock off early. Ross is expecting me back. We're due some time, we've been working eleven days straight, 'he said, turning the car in the direction of home.

The drive back to town was accomplished mostly in silence, Hutch now a little worried for his friend. He'd never heard him complain of tiredness to the extent of clocking off early before. But, hey, he's never lived with the woman of his dreams before either! Finally, the brunette dropped his partner off at his apartment. Just as he was leaving the car, the radio crackled to life.

'Zebra three, zebra three. Patch through to R&I'.

Starsky picked up the mic. 'This is zebra three, go ahead'. He listened as the disembodied voice of Eddie down at the metro gave them the address the telephone number was associated with. He put the mic back on its cradle, looking over to his partner.

'Well, looks like we'll be staking out the address tomorrow. Get some sleep, see you at 8.00, OK?'

He drove off and within ten minutes was back at his own apartment. He parked the car on the drive and ran up the steps to his front door. Opening it, he saw Ross in the kitchen, busying herself with supper. He crept over to her and put his arms round her waist.

'Hiya gorgeous' he whispered.

She turned to face him, putting her arms round his neck and pulling him to her. She looked up into his face and leaned forwards to kiss him.

Suddenly, her face darkened. 'I can smell perfume' she said, low and intense.

Starsky drew back. 'It's nothing, honey. We had to go check out some information at a brothel, that's all, honest'.

But she wasn't listening. Her face turned ugly as she started to shout. 'You're cheating on me, I know you are. I hate you'.

She drew her hand back and took struck him on the side of his face as he put his arms up to defend himself.

'Ross, honey, just calm down. It's not what you think'.

But Ross was lost in her rage.