Lullaby
Post-Bloodbath snippet.
Hutch heard a muffled yell from Starsky's bedroom and immediately dropped the book he was reading, dashing to his partner's side. His gun was halfway out of its holster when he realized that the brunet wasn't in any danger; he was just having a nightmare.
'Just' was a bit of an understatement, Hutch reflected, noticing Starsky's evident terror. He was pale and sweating, thrashing and struggling in his sheets, shouting out occasionally. Unfortunately, Hutch could easily guess the subject of his bad dream – undergoing physical and psychological torture at the hands of insane cult members would give a man enough nightmare material to last a lifetime. He had to snap him out of it.
"Starsky!" Hutch said loudly. "C'mon, buddy, wake up." He shook his friend softly, but it didn't quite have the desired effect.
Starsky whimpered and stopped his desperate struggles, instead trying to curl into a tight ball. He was shaking. "Please don't, no more," he begged, sounding close to tears.
Hutch settled onto the bed beside his partner. "Oh, baby, I'm not going to hurt you," he soothed, gently untangling the brunet and gathering him into his arms. "It's all right, I'm here buddy."
"'utch?" Starsky asked hesitantly, his voice wavering.
"That's right, Starsk. You're safe now," Hutch said reassuringly. "I know it took me a while, but I found you in time, and you're home now. Marcus's men can't hurt you anymore."
Starsky's hand closed around a fistful of Hutch's shirt and he buried his face in Hutch's chest. A growing dampness told the blonde that Starsky was crying.
"Oh babe," Hutch sighed, knowing how frightened his friend was feeling. He tightened the embrace, crooning softly. After a few minutes with no sign of Starsky calming down, Hutch slowly began to sing a quiet lullaby. He didn't remember all of the words, but by the second verse Starsky's sobs began to subside. Hutch gently rocked back and forth, and gradually Starsky's breathing eased to a more restful pattern.
Even once he was sure that Starsky was sleeping again, Hutch didn't stop singing. He was receiving a degree of solace from it himself, and he sensed that it was something that Starsky needed. The brunet had been forced to grow up far too early – what with the death of his father and then his stint in Vietnam. Hutch suspected that his shortened childhood had a lot to do with why the grown man often displayed a very childish aspect of his personality, like shamelessly showing his affection and needing the same in return. Or, like now, not hiding the fact that he was scared and finding comfort in the arms of his friend and a gentle lullaby.
Ah, Starsk, Hutch thought fondly, ruffling the dark curls of his sleeping partner. Don't ever change, huh? I love ya just the way you are.