You can take the Boy out of Brooklyn
Chapter 8
Hutch knew within minutes of Nick and Starsky leaving the apartment what he was going to do. He needed to run, to run hard and long. He'd missed his morning run, hung-over and anxious for what lay ahead for Starsky at the station that morning. Nothing else was going to help him at that moment if he didn't give in to the compulsion to make up for his morning ritual.
At least Starsky wasn't here to pass judgment on his chosen form of self-therapy.
Although he'd told Starsky he intended to catch some sleep while he and Nick were out he knew his body wouldn't allow him the respite into blissful nothingness.
Pent up still from what had happened earlier with Starsky he knew that the best option for dealing with his restless state was to burn it out with physical exertion. He pulled on running shorts and his favored tatty t-shirt and pushed his feet into his well-worn Nikes. A run would do more for him than some shut eye and might soften the sharp edges of his mood. He needed to feel an ache that was anywhere but in his heart and his loins. If nothing else a slow burn in muscles and the initial fire in his lungs was what he needed now. As his feet hit the pavement he was already anticipated the physical release that a five-mile plus run could afford him if he pushed himself hard enough – and he would make damn sure he did.
If Starsky had been there he would have grimaced and no doubt berated him for pounding the streets in the heat of the day. Starsky could never understand why Hutch wanted to torture himself with more self-inflicted pain by going on a run when he was already suffering the after effects of a big night they might have shared at a bar or at home after collapsing with too many beers after a particularly grueling case had been put to bed.
Mind you, Hutch thought as he legs pumped hard and his chest constricted with effort, Starsky rarely had to worry 'morning after suffering' from any vice. Starsky's stamina was incredible, tending to bounce back relatively easily after abusing his body. For months he had punished his body with an intolerable regime of excessive drinking, smoking and if there was such a thing for Starsky – an overload of sex. Yet,like many things in Starsky's life, he managed to over indulge without any visible effect. These extreme excesses tended to roll of his back as easily as caustic remarks and teasing jibes. Starsky was a man of resilience – in so many ways. Tough and impervious, adaptable and flexible, forgiving and forgetting – were all qualities that he possessed in seemingly limitless quantities. Deep down Hutch loved and admired him for these traits, even when he expressed overt envy at Starsky's cast iron disposition and easygoing nature….and voracious appetite for bedroom gymnastics.
Hutch on the other hand was generally prone to a less robust constitution. Not of course if he was honest with himself that he could exactly recall the last time he had put his body through the ringer with sex. The more than occasional blow out with drink yes, but a good workout in the bedroom – no.
So for the past few months while Hutch had spending quiet evenings alone at Huggy's snazzy new bar and going home to a bed where the only thing beside him was his alarm clock (which he didn't need because he rarely slept), Starsky had excelled at pushing his body to the limits in every sector. Still he managed to come out showing any obvious physical wear and tear. Hutch conversely looked – as he well knew, like he felt - worn, tired and frustrated.
Despite Starsky's seemingly ineradicable physical fortitude, mentally and physically he was not the same Starsky. His usual upbeat spirit and indomitable, effervescent enthusiasm for life had been buried under a thick guise of surly, judgmental and self-destructive Starsky behavior. He had become more rigid and unforgiving of the world .developing an outer layer of impenetrable toughness.
As he eased into the run Hutch gave considerable thought to how the two of them had travelled along in life for the past months. He thought about his running, and in particular to the sharp spike in his regime of running. He could now admit to himself what he had already suspected. His need to run more often, run harder and longer had increased in directed proportion to Starsky's need to burn the candle at both ends. Since Clare had betrayed him so unforgivably and Starsky had descended into a one-way street of self-destruction by hedonism, so had Hutch amplified the role of running in his daily routine. The past months Starsky had disapproved of Hutch's increased solo sojourns onto the streets to take on an extra early morning or twilight run, warning him against pushing his body too hard, abusing his health with runs in the rain, after too little sleep or too stressful a caseload at work.
Never once however did he listen to Hutch's own misgivings about what he was doing in his own life, blithely and angrily casting off Hutch's concerns. "Get off my back Hutch and worry about your self will ya? You can't seem to settle to anything until you've punched out a ten mile run - rain, hail or freakin' shine."
"It's a healthy outlet Starsky."
"It's freakin' obsessive behavior, that's what it is." Starsky had snapped at him, slapping the wall to punctuate his point. "It stopped being healthy way back when you forgot to stop running and come back home before you started another circuit of the neighborhood. You're like one of those damn hamsters on a wheel – just can't make yourself jump off can ya? Like you're locked in a cage on a wheel."
"Don't be ridiculous. I can stop whenever I choose to – I just don't choose to stop and why would I for God's sake?"
"Sure you can stop whenever you want? You're addicted to punishing your body as much as I'm addicted to smokin' and you know it!"
"Difference is Starsky, my habit is not going to kill me."
"No? I say differently. Have you had a good look at yourself lately? Must've lost fifteen pounds in two months. You're wearing yourself to blood and bone."
"Oh come on buddy! And I guess what you do every night is better for the soul than running? I get tired of just watching you partner. Car to bar to bed every night and then work all day to do it all over again. I don't the last time you even went to the gym – don't think you could do a full session now with your lungs all clogged up with tar!"
"So why should I need to? Who the hell says we should bother to keep fit in this godforsaken job anyway? Who needs to be fit to get his head blown off by some crazed junkie in a back alley?" Starsky had retorted and Hutch remembered feeling shocked at the bitterness with which Starsky had said it.
"It's not about the damn job for God's sake. It's about you. You need to look after yourself, take better care of yourself." Hutch remembered retaliating too quickly and could still see Starsky pondering the words before he answered.
"That's the whole point don't ya' see Hutch? Maybe I just don't care anymore – 'bout myself."
"Then where the hell does that leave me partner? You think I want to hear that from you? What am I supposed to do or think when I hear you say that?" Hutch had wanted to know.
But Starsky never had answered him. He'd just looked at him, and shook his head before grabbing his jacket and slamming out of the door - no doubt on his way to another two dimensional evening with yet another woman whose face, let alone name he wouldn't be able to recall the next week.
So Hutch had run more, smashing out the miles, sweating out his angst and resentment at being barred from Starsky's life. In almost perfect tandem Starsky had partied harder, notching up each new sexual conquest as smoothly as Hutch completed another mini marathon; dragging back cigarette smoke as greedily and frantically as Hutch sucked in oxygen to his burning lungs; his legs chewing up the miles in a blur as Starsky's nights were spent in a mindless haze of forgettable couplings. It seemed to Hutch that they had each gone to the furthest corners of their usually very enmeshed everyday lives – still together for all intents and purposes as a working unit, as partners on the force, as friends and buddies even – but as unreachable to each other emotionally as they had ever been in their years of intensely tight friendship.
Hutch stole a look at his watch, slippery on his sweat slicked wrist and was shocked to see that he'd been running for nearly forty five minutes. A trickle of sweat ran down his temple, the slide of it down his face making him aware that his body was tiring, the heat of the day too strong on his bare head and face, the bright sunlight harsh in his eyes. If he was sensible he'd start for home by cutting down the next side street for the return circuit.
He thought about Starsky sitting in the darkened bar at Huggy's with Nick and ran straight on past the side street, the next few blocks already in his sight.
A sudden sharp stitch clutched at his flank and he dug hard at the muscles with his fist – but didn't slow his pace. He had a run to finish and a compulsion to do so. Without the full run there would be no catharsis.
Damn Starsky for being right. When was he ever going to jump of this freakin' wheel?
SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHS
Hutch rounded the corner to the last block of his run – his feet finding the route on automatic pilot, his mind still preoccupied with thoughts far removed from the physical activity of his burning limbs and pumping arms.
His Venice Beach apartment block was now just up ahead, less than one block away. He cut his pace to a slow jog, sweating down as he mentally prepared to re-enter his building and wait for the next scenario to play out between him and Starsky. Hutch wondered how the brother on brother meet up was coming along and once again he felt the unease in his belly grab on as he thought of Nick's true intentions. Hutch didn't imagine that Starsky would have come away from the talk with Nick any the wiser as to why his brother was really here. In fact Hutch was not sure that Starsky would ever really know half of the 'whys and wherefores' of the Nick that Hutch could see and the Nick that would always be his partner's kid brother. One Starsky had left behind all those years ago in New York when he'd been sent away from his family and social community.
Drawing closer to his home Hutch admitted to himself that he too would be unlikely to know half of what Nick was really up to in his life and how his being here was going to affect them. As the door to the entrance of his apartment came into clear vision and he saw the man standing there, leaning against the wall as he spoke on his cell phone, Hutch's gut lurched again. He figured that in about five minutes or less he might know a lot more about that missing half of information. Nick was waiting for him to return. That much was obvious – and he was waiting alone, with no sign of Starsky.
Hutch came to a sudden stop a few paces from Nick, his breath still ragged, his muscles far from cooled down. Nick looked up at the sound of his approach taking in Hutch's sweat slicked face and neck, the heat infused skin and labored breathing.
"You always run in the heat of the afternoon?" he asked.
Hutch coughed lightly, stretching out his quads as he balanced himself with one hand on the wall of the building. "I run whenever I need to. Felt the need, so I ran," he answered laconically.
"Crazy if you ask me." Nick pursed his lips and chuckled and in its release Hutch caught the distinctive waft of hard liquor although Nick seemed sober enough.
Hutch curled up his other leg, pulling his ankle up high behind him. "Where'd you leave Starsky?"
"Said he had to go and meet your captain 'bout something to do with the investigation."
Hutch frowned at that piece of information. He'd spoken to Dobey after Starsky and Nick left his place and his captain hadn't mentioned anything to him at the time about needing to meet up with Starsky.
When Hutch said nothing to that and moved to the door Nick stepped forward.
"Mind if I come up?" he looked down at his cellphone. "I – ah – left my cell charger back at the hotel. Davey's got near enough the same model I noticed. Thought I could use his to charge up the battery to keep me going. I need to make some calls."
Hutch gave the slightest of nods and entered the code for the door. Not for one moment did he believe the line Nicky had just fed him. Nick wanted him by himself. That much was clear. Still, it was an opportunity to find out what Nick was up to so he might as well play it out.
Inside the apartment Hutch went straight to the bathroom to douse his hot face and head under the cool tap water. He'd prefer a shower but with Nick there he'd have to wait.
Re-emerging with a towel to his face he saw Nick standing at the doorway to the balcony, his eyes scoping out the outside area. Something about the way Nick did so seemed odd to Hutch.
He gave the barest of jumps when Hutch spoke. He hadn't expected Hutch to be watching him. "Starsky's gear is over in the alcove there. His cell charger is in there with his stuff. Should be plugged in or on the chest of drawers."
Hutch moved to fridge and pulled out a flask of water and busied himself spooning in some post-run electrolytes. As he did so he could hear Nick moving about in the bedroom alcove, shifting and lifting things as he rummaged lightly through Starsky's duffle bag and travel case. Hutch listened some more and hearing the unmistakable sound of a drawer being slid open he quietly moved over to the alcove, the drink in one hand, his other hand rubbing his chin in quiet consternation.
"Can't find it?" Hutch asked from the edge of the alcove. Once again his voice seemed to jolt Nick and he whirled around in surprise. He pulled his hand from the top drawer of the dresser and pushed it closed. Hutch took a long swallow of his drink before motioning with the container toward the power point over the chest of drawers, indicating the very obvious charger.
"Damn thing was under my nose the whole time!" Nick exclaimed lightly. At least Hutch thought, he had the decency to give a semi embarrassed laugh before reaching forward to seize the power cord..
Before Nick could plug it into the power socket, Hutch leaned over and took it neatly from his hands.
"No – let me plug it in near the socket at the door. That way you won't forget your phone behind when you leave," Hutch gave what he hoped was his best helpful smile before he turned to carry the small device to the other power outlet. As he connected it he was not surprised to see the charging bar registering a near full battery.
When he turned around Nick's face was no longer strained with discomfort but radiating anger. Hutch felt the animosity like a physical presence between them.
Taking another more swallow of his drink, Hutch placed it slowly on the coffee table, all the while keeping his eye on Nick.
"You want a coffee while that charges up?" Hutch cast his eye back down toward the small screen of the cellular device before looking back at Nick. "After all it could take a while," he said it with one blond eyebrow raised artfully.
Nick rolled his eyes and chewed hard on the inside of his mouth.
"Okay, cut the shit. You know I didn't come up here to charge the freakin' cell," he snarled. "Jesus, don't you ever get sick of plain' the detective?"
"It didn't take much detective work to see through that one Nick," Hutch said. "Give me some credit for God's sake. I knew you were spinning me a story about the cell charger, even before we came in the front door." He fixed Nick with a steady eye. "So you going to tell me why Nick? Quit dicking around with phony smokescreens and cut to the chase."
"I wanted to have a word with you," Nick said.
"And obviously without your brother being around."
"I didn't plan it that way. He went off to the station but I wanted to talk to you anyway. I knew you weren't going to play nice and invite me up for a chat so I used the cell charger story."
"And why would you want to talk to me Nick?" Hutch asked him but was already thinking he was getting the idea of what was going on. "If you'd wanted to talk to me you could have done so before when Starsky suggested you stay here."
Nick looked like he was trying to come up with an answer when Hutch cut in again.
"I'm thinking that the reason you want to talk to me is because Starsky wouldn't. Or maybe he wouldn't tell you what you wanted him to tell you." Hutch was piecing it together now as he thought about what might have transpired. It was not like Starsky to walk off and leave Nick when he'd only just hit town. Something must have gone down between them at Huggy's bar.
On an impulse he strode over to the small desk in the corner of the living room where he'd left his cell while he went for his run. Sure enough there was a missed call from Huggy. Nick watched Hutch as he returned his cell to the desk's surface level his face and Hutch could tell by his expression that Nick was become increasingly wary of him.
"What went on with you and Starsky at Huggy's?" Hutch asked, knowing that Huggy must have rung him in relation to Starsky's and Nick's visit to the bar.
Looking as though he was about to deny anything had happened Nick shrugged, before moving over to unplug his cell and slide it into his jacket pocket. " Davey doesn't like to be reminded about his roots."
"What is that supposed to mean for Christ sake? His roots? You mean his family?"
"I'm talking about the people he and I grew up around, the streets and the neighborhood we lived in. The people that still know about him and know what happens to him."
"That's no longer his life. Maybe he doesn't want to live in the past." Hutch shrugged.
"You're wrong. Where we grew up, how we grew up – that doesn't just go away. Davey prefers to believe that part of his life is well behind him. But I can tell you, like I told him – it ain't."
It seemed to Hutch that Nick was enjoying keeping him dangling in confusion.
"How about you give it to me straight Nick. I don't think you're here with me now to talk about Starsky's early years," Hutch said. "You wanted to talk to me – then talk. Here I am. But cut the bullshit and give it to me without all the innuendo."
The look of distaste on Nick's face was apparent. "You really like playing the heavy don't you Hutchinson? Do you do that with everybody I wonder, or is it just me you like to push at?'" Hutch didn't miss the more than subtle curling of Nick's fist. "Well I'm well sick of it and sick of you the way you're forever looming around, getting in between my brother and me."
Hutch pursed his lips as though in thought. "I don't trust you Nick. I trust you less right now than I trusted you last time I saw you and I'll probably trust you less tomorrow then I trust you now. Seems you just get slipperier each time you show your face around your brother. Now, because it's my job to look out for your brother, either you change your ways or learn to deal with me."
"You know it cuts both ways with us? I can't wait till the day that Davey wakes up and realizes you're not the perfect friend and partner he likes to think you are." All the raw resentment Hutch knew Nick harbored for him was sizzling in the room. "Look at the mess Davey's in because of your dumb ex-wife. If you were such a good friend you would have made sure she stayed out of his life. Now because of her – because of you – Davey's facin' down a murder rap."
The accusations and spiteful jibes were salt to his wounds but Hutch wouldn't give Nick the satisfaction of seeing the impact of his needling.
"Believe what you want Nick, but I regret deeply that Vanessa brought any of this onto your brother. Starsky and I had no idea of what was going down with Vanessa or why what happened did."
Nick shook his head. "Davey I can believe…but she was your ex Hutchinson. You expect me to believe you didn't know what she was into? You should have kept her out of Davey's way."
"What Vanessa was into?" Hutch was concerned now about exactly what the two had discussed and what slant Nick seemed to be taking on it. "What the hell would you know about Vanessa anyway?"
Nick curled his lip. "Probably a damn lot more than you knew about her, that's for sure!"
Hutch wanted to lunge at him, all his senses were driving him to it but he wanted to hear where Nick was going with this. "Sorry if I don't believe you Nick, but I don't think you even remembered her name until Starsky told you before."
"Hey I don't need to know a broad's name to know she had trouble plastered all over her - and walked it right into my brother's life." Nick bit back.
Hutch gave him a searching look. "Starsky and you were talking about this? About Van? About the investigation?" Even though Hutch knew it was understandable that Starsky would have shared some of his concerns about the murder investigation to his brother he couldn't see where Nick was getting the ammunition for his vitriol against Vanessa. He couldn't or wouldn't believe his partner would disparage her so openly to his brother like that, even given his long-term antipathy towards her. Nick's reaction to his question – a frustrated grimace - and his next words put him more in the picture.
"Davey didn't want to hear some of the things I was tryin' to warn him about with this situation. He's gotta face reality but –"
"What things?" Hutch's eyes narrowed. "What were you trying to warn your brother about Nick?"
What was Nick referring to? The investigation – or something else?
Hutch's head was beginning to reel with Nick's alarming implications. Exactly what did he know? Had Starsky told him about the drugs?
"Let's just say I know the connection. I know she took two in the chest and I think I've got a pretty good idea of why." Hutch stepped back from Nick's brutal statement trying hard not to show his shock. Once more he needed to lever down hard on the impulse to floor Nick for what he had said and the way he had said it. Callous and cold.
"Stop fucking me around and say what you came up here to say. I'm losing patience with you. Ask what you want to ask me." Hutch moved in closer, feeling himself tensing with each moment he spent looking at this man.
Nick smirked – a challenge in his eyes, sharp and malicious. "I don't want to ask you anything Hutchinson, you'd only fuckin' lie to me anyway. I want to tell you something though. I want to tell you that if I find out you knew what the stupid bitch was into then I'll make sure you take the heat for it – and I ain't talking here about heat from the law." His eyes were alive with satisfaction as he delivered the threat.
In his head Hutch could almost hear the pieces snapping into place – the total picture shaping up as it all came together. It was yet another damning picture of Nick Starsky. Nick knowing about the missing drugs was one thing, but what worried Hutch more was something else altogether.
"You knew about it even before you came here didn't you? You just hoped by getting Starsky by himself you'd find out more." Hutch asked him. "But Starsky didn't tell you anymore did he Nick? And – if I'm right, he walked out on you because yet again he couldn't stand to see what sort of a brother he has in you." He studied Nick, a calculated expression to instill at much unease as he could in the other man. "Tell me Nick. Did you come here to help Starsky or to use him?"
He could feel it then, the telltale clenching throb in his temple that marked the onset of mounting rage. Its pulse was so strong he swore he could almost feel his skin stretching with each hammering beat.
"I came here to warn him – and now I'm warning you. That meth is goin' to bring a fuck load more trouble down on Davey then any murder rap could ever do. If that missing meth don't turn up and turn up fast – Davey won't even live to see the inside of a courtroom for a murder trial."
The pulsing beat of a blood vessel above his eye was a clear warning to Hutch that he'd reached his limit of self-restraint. This was only going to go one way if he didn't turn and walk away. If he could have fought it down he would have because in the back of his mind Hutch was already seeing how this would all lead to nothing but pain for Starsky. He breathed hard, clenched and unclenched his forearms, the burning urge to lash out rising the longer he looked at Nick's contemptuous face as though his sardonic smirk was openly inviting the arc of Hutch's flexed fist.
Seconds later the sounds coming from the body pinned vertically beneath his told Hutch that he hadn't in fact slammed his fist into Nick's face after all. The strangled involuntary visceral grunt and forced expulsion of air whistling in the air told Hutch that he had used his own tall body to lift and slam Nick violently against the wall, his head cracking hard on the plaster with the sudden cessation of backward propulsion. Hutch had held back his willful fists but his pumped up right hand and forearm was still straining for release, the fury still trapped inside of its muscle and sinew. The hand still bunched up in Nick's shirt front found its way to the bare throat just above it.
Hutch wrapped his big hand around Nick's throat controlling the force of his grip, keeping the constriction to the point where fear jumped in Nick's eyes but he could still manage to draw a ragged breath. With his other arm and lower body Hutch ensured that Nick could not even flinch beneath him let alone move away.
"This is your brother you're talking about here you fucking bastard! Your own brother!" Hutch roared at him, pressing his forearm even deeper into Nick's chest and lower neck. "You dare to stand in front of me and dangle that threat about his life-like it means nothing more to you than the life of some two-bit punk from the ghetto neighborhood you seem so fucking proud to be a part of? "
"Ba….back off Hu…Hutchinson. Just….tellin' ya' how it ….how it is. You say …you have Davey's back ….then know for …sure what will…happen if ….." Nick gurgled, squeezing the words out, his crimson face contorted in pain.
Hutch dug his thumb even deeper into the bulging tendon in Nick's neck.
"If what Nick? If WHAT! You know about all of this shit don't you? That's why you've come here. You know about the men that killed Vanessa too?" He lifted his lower hand to smack it hard down near the wall, the blow barely missing Nick's cheek and he enjoyed the perverse satisfaction Nick's reflex jump instilled in him. Nick stared sullenly back at him, squirming his face to turn away from the cruel pinching pressure of Hutch's fingers. "Answer me Nick or I swear I'll wring it out of you with my bare hands! You're not here under your own steam are you? Someone sent you didn't they?"
When Hutch saw what he interpreted as a snarling smile from the contorted face he felt the last vestiges of his self-containment falling away. Of their own accord his fingers tightened around Nick's already marked up neck. Nick gagged, spluttered and made a low keening deep in his throat. Hutch felt the moisture from Nick's eyes as they watered freely with the effort of pulling in oxygen and concentrating hard to deal with the formidable crushing pressure in his head and face.
Rasping heavily himself now Hutch swallowed hard when he felt the click in his head, as real as though it were a switch. He stared at his numb, shaking hand, bloodless now from maintaining the force of the grip around Nick's neck. Then he looked up again, not at Nick's face, but at his dark curly hair, not as long and softly curling as his brother's but dark and curling just the same.
Not the same – but so similar really to Starsky's.
"Christ….. Christ!" He wrenched back his hand as though it had been doused with boiling oil, and and then stepped back a distance from Nick's sagging body.
Turning his back on Nick who was gagging forcibly Hutch strode away to the other side of the room, deliberately putting distance between himself and his target. Cursing again he pivoted and retraced his steps. Nick had managed to maintain his upright position but was obviously struggling to do so. As Hutch reclaimed his stance in front of him Nick openly flinched and covered his throat with both hands as though the act itself would ward off another assault on his bruised flesh.
Hutch took another long calming breath and fixed Nick with what he knew was an affected smile, all teeth and tightly drawn lips.
"You know Nick, I don't think we're making the best use of this private time between the two of us. You wanted this little talk and I should be letting you have it. We have the perfect opportunity while your brother is not here." He leaned in closer again, so close he knew Nick was battling not to squirm and pull away from his hovering bulk.
So very different from his brother. So gutless and weak in comparison to Starsky's strength and courage.
"So, here's what's going to happen Nick," he pitched his voice even lower but it still had the whisper of slicing steel as he breathed the words close to Nick's blood filled face. "I'm going to calm down, let you get your breath back, clear your head – and then –" he rubbed his temple hard with two fingers, easing out the tension that was still reverberating through his skull, "then, you're going to talk to me." Hutch raised his brow as though waiting for Nick to agree. "No more riddles, just straight facts. You will tell me what you know about Vanessa's death, about the missing drugs and how you know it." He waited a pause again. "I'll even get you a glass of water to ease that throat, how's that? Couldn't be more fair could I?"
Moving away slightly to give Nick some space Hutch watched as he gathered himself, pulling his shambled composure back into place by straightening his shirt, pushing back the hair from his eyes and sliding out and away from where he had been pinned against the wall.
"Anything I've got to say about what I know, I'll be saying to Davey you asshole." Nick said, the bite of bravado creeping back into his voice. "All you need to remember is what I've already made clear to you. If you do know anything about where your dead wife stashed those drugs then you fuckin' better come clean soon otherwise you're puttin' Davey's life at risk."
"I don't know anything about the meth Nick – and neither does Starsky. If you came here hoping to find the drugs then you've struck out you fool – and – whoever else is waiting to uncover them has struck out too."
"I don't think you know what you're up against here Hutchinson," Nicky warned.
"By that I guess you mean "who" and not "what" don't you Nick? And, yes, Starsky and I both do." Hutch gave him back. "But you? Do you know what you're up against Nick? I could tell you – or I could take you into the Santa Monica cops and let them tell you. I'm sure that'd be very interested in hearing what you've got to say about all of this."
Nick shot Hutch a look of pure loathing. He stood up straighter, tried to clear his raw throat and went to move forward.
"I'm outta here – now." Nick went to push past the blockade of Hutch's tall solid frame. "I've had all I'm gonna take from you and your damn tough cop act. Move aside!" Nick pushed his shoulder at Hutch's resisting form. Hutch shoved him back with one hand. Nick slapped his hand away and pushed back, indignant wrath layered over what Hutch could read as very real fear that Hutch would not in fact let him go without harming him more.
"Get your dirty hands off me you fuckin' queer! Don't lay your hands on me one more time!" Nick's cry came out as a broken croak, his voice hoarse with strain. The jarring accusation, coming out of seemingly nowhere hit Hutch fair in the chest.
Despite discounting the possibility earlier Hutch now wondered whether Nick had in fact heard something when he'd stood outside of his door before he knocked? Something that he had heard between them? He must have. Otherwise where was this coming from - this reference with no basis.
Or was there a basis?
Hutch's head swam with other possibilities. Had he been so blatantly obvious in front of Nick earlier out on the balcony when he was looking at Starsky? Did Starsky also read him as being so blatantly obvious? Was he so freaking obvious about something he had struggled for so long to keep hidden from Starsky; was his secret, painful, hopeless love for his partner and his desperate need to express such repressed desire so poorly concealed that even Nick, even others could see it?
Hutch anguished over what damage he might have done by letting Starsky see his true feelings? Had he been the one pushing Starsky away because Starsky couldn't cope with Hutch's needs?
In the midst of his whirling uncertainty Hutch lost focus on Nick but it came to him soon enough that Nick had not lost focus on him.
"Looks like I hit a nerve Hutchinson? What? You shocked to hear me call you a queer?" he sneered. "Didn't realize you were quite so out there with the moves you've been puttin' on my brother did you?" Nick's smile was one of supreme satisfaction, his head tilted cockily, as he lapped up Hutch's shocked bewilderment.
Still Hutch did not answer him, worried sick that he might have disclosed his real desires to Starsky unconsciously – and out of step with Starsky's feelings. Had he and Nick talked about it while they were at Huggy's? Is that why Starsky had not come back to the apartment?
He wanted nothing more then for Nick to go. To clear out and leave him sort through this mix of fear and self-doubt before he had to face Starsky again.
Hutch scrubbed hard at his face, looked at the door as though fearing that Starsky might walk in at any moment when he hadn't had the chance to think things through. "Just get the fuck out of my place now," he hissed, "before this goes any further."
Nick smirked regrouping some of his earlier arrogant confidence in light of Hutch's uncertainty.
"Why? Because of what I've said about Davey and the missing drugs or because I've put my finger on what you are?" he asked, choking on the effort to speak, his hands gingerly touching the discolored skin on his neck. " Hey maybe you got off on fuckin' up my throat? I've heard that queers like that sort of thing. You like that Hutchinson?" he stepped closer, becoming braver with every second. Hutch knew it was because he felt he was demoralizing him into a submissive corner. " Maybe you liked choking the air outta my body? Maybe it turned you on? Did it Hutch – did it turn you on?"
"I've got no idea where this crap is coming from Nick but your head is obviously fucked up to come out with this rubbish. Take your sick sex fantasies and get out."
Nick nonetheless would not be deterred. Nick laughed, "Nah, I've seen it in your face. Can't hide the truth now. You scared you won't be able to keep your hands off me?" he taunted maliciously.
Hutch answered honestly. "Very likely you prick," he said, "if you weren't Starsky's brother I'd be more than happy to take you down."
Nick's laugh was raucous now and just a little crazed. "Why Hutchinson – you tryin' to proposition me? One Starsky not enough for you?"
"Shut the fuck up Nick. Shut the damn fuck up now if you know what's good for you!"
Nick was however only beginning it seemed.
"You get turned on by squeezin' other man's throats you dirty faggot? Is that what Davey likes you to do? Does it turn him on too? Maybe he likes getting roughed up by you before he sucks you off." He sneered luridly as he looked down at Hutch's crotch.
Hutch's blood pressure which had only just begun to settle skyrocketed in his arteries, thundered in his head.
Nick's taunts rang on. "Does he perform better for you that way Hutchinson? I've seen the way you look at Davey, the way the two of you talk and touch. Is that what you are – the two of you? Cocksuckin' lovers?"
Hutch's head was pounding, rock hard icy rage smashing around in his skull. Nick had to stop now or ….
"Is that what Davey is? My bro'? My flesh and blood hard- assed cop brother? Nothing but your dirty cocksucker?"
It was too late to stop the unstoppable.
The fiery lick of rage that Hutch had so vigorously managed to quell minutes before, resurfaced in a fresh haze of bursting flames. His fist flew hard and fast and found its target with the unmistakable crack of bunched knuckles on the hardened plate of cheek bone and nose cartilage.
Nick flew backwards as the powerful arcing blow crashed into him. He floundered awkwardly against the coffee table before losing his balance completely and folding into a heap to his knees. The bright splash of fresh blood was already dripping through his fingers as he cupped his hands around his battered nose and cheek and huddled on the floor rug, whining like a kicked dog.
With his eyes drawn almost hypnotically to the light-colored rug Hutch watched as the crimson drops settled on the fiber, glistening and vibrant. Nick's blood. Not enough – not nearly enough for Hutch, not nearly enough to wipe out the sound of his filthy words still ringing in the room. Not nearly enough to make him pay for the denigration he had spat at Starsky or how he had belittled what was between them and dirtied up what Hutch so dearly wanted to be between them.
Within two big strides he was beside the huddled bleeding Nick. He was ready to take it further, more than prepared to haul him to his feet for another strike. Single mindedly focused on Nick's vile words Hutch was oblivious to anything else in the room. So oblivious in fact, so tightly focused, he had no awareness that anyone else was even in the room with them until he felt a steely arm wrapped around his midriff pulling him back against a hardened chest wall. Shocked, Hutch turned in the ironclad hold, enough to look directly into the navy pools of Starsky's eyes and felt sick at what he saw radiating in their depths. Disappointment and sadness was there in all its clarity for Hutch to read. Then almost immediately the dark blue was closed away behind tightly closed lids as Starsky shut out the reality before him. When Starsky opened his eyes again, Hutch saw the weary frustration reflected from them so clearly.
With Starsky's arm still wrapped tightly about Hutch's middle, Hutch felt him apply extra pressure, seeming to urge him to look at him. They locked gazes.
"Stop now. Stop Hutch. It's done." Starsky asked, deathly quiet as though he didn't have the strength to ask.
Guilt and pain flooded through him. Shame came next. Whatever was in Starsky's eyes, he had put there.
"Shit…Starsk…I'm sorry…" Hutch tried to begin. But he knew he wasn't sorry for what he had done. Wasn't sorry for the pain or the blood or the fear he had brought about in Nick. Only sorry for the look he had put in those navy eyes.
But Starsky wasn't looking at him any longer – his attention now on his brother who was making a show of dragging himself to his feet, snuffling into his hands as the blood bubbled from his nose and the broken blood vessels in his cheek were already blossoming into the first phase of freshly bruised flesh. "Your partner is fuckin' crazy Davey. Tried to strangle me and then …then…shit he might have even broken my damn nose. Jesus! He's a fuckin' mad man." Nick held out one blood stained hand as though to solicit some support from his brother.
Starsky didn't go to him. Instead he remained where he stood midway between Hutch and Nick and said nothing. He looked long and hard at his brother who seemed to shrink under his scrutiny.
"What the hell is this Davey? You tell me. I come here to try to help you – to warn you of trouble that could be comin' your way – and this? I get this from him?" Braver now that Starsky was between them, he stabbed his finger at Hutch. "And you Davey. What about you then? My own brother? Not sayin' a thing about it!"
Still Starsky didn't move toward Nick or react to his impassioned cries. Instead he looked toward the greenhouse, silent and closed faced. .
"Davey….Dave!" Nick implored, "What the hell is wrong with you?"
Starsky turned his eyes to him. "Best if you leave now Nicky. Best all round – for you, for Hutch …for me." It seemed to Hutch as though Starsky had to dredge the words up deep from somewhere inside of him, as if the effort to produce them was all too much. "Just go will ya'?" Without so much as another glance at either Nick or Hutch he walked toward the door leading to the greenhouse balcony.
Hutch stood transfixed, caught between his want to follow his partner and his fear that he would not be welcome at his side. Vaguely he was aware that Nick had hobbled toward the bathroom. He was still standing in the middle of the room when Nick returned moments later with a dampened washer pressed to his nose and cheek. Distractedly Hutch noticed that he'd washed the excess blood from his hands and cleaned up the worst of the spray and trickle of the garish red from his face.
Nick was staring at him warily but there was a distinctive return of cold defiance in his voice when he pulled the cloth away to speak. "Remember Hutchinson…you know anything about the meth than you'd better know it's in Davey's interests to tell me – and tell me soon."
Until he heard the door slamming shut Hutch hadn't even realized that Nick had walked away.
SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH
Starsky hadn't gone to the station after all. He hadn't known where he was heading when he'd left Nick behind at the bar, knowing only that he wanted to be out of there and away from the reminder of what sort of brother he had in Nick.
He had walked the streets, going back over their conversation in the bar, going back over Nicky's reactions and guarded looks, his attempts to divert Starsky from his real intentions. He walked for a long time, enough time to feel the sick feeling in his gut begin to settle.
Eventually he had phoned Dobey at the station and talked about what the cops in New York had – or rather hadn't uncovered about the investigation when they'd interviewed Vanessa's friend Jake.
A big nothing. Big fuckin' nothin'! And Vanessa had sold him as a major player in the whole drama. Obviously the guy had his story all worked out. So he was back to zero – with himself still as the only focus for the investigation of Vanessa's murder.
Stressed with Dobey's news and disillusioned with Nick he had walked some more – heading unconsciously back toward Hutch's place although it was miles and miles away.
At some point his cop instincts kicked in enough to override his self-absorption and he became aware that he was being followed. The dark green Dodge had been tailing for at least three blocks now, slowly weaving in and out of the slow lane to keep him in sight. Testing his hunch, he had diverted from the route, and when he had rounded the corner and cut down to the next block it never left his side. He lost sight of it but only for a while when it reappeared as he came out of a small side street to wave down a taxi.
It was still there when he arrived back at Venice Beach, but way back down the busy street where Hutch lived when he leaned into the taxi's window to pay the driver.
Nick was in town, in town with too many questions for him and now he was being tailed. He was chewing this over in his weary brain when he started to climb the steps to Hutch's apartment. Halfway up the steps he heard the sounds from inside Hutch's place – sounds that had him reaching for his gun that wasn't there. At the door, panic filling his veins as he fumbled for his key, he was heedless to his vulnerable state unarmed and exposed as he would be when he got the door open. His actions were governed by his driven need to stop whoever might be inside and harming his partner.
Then the locks released he pushed the door ajar and took in the scene. Hutch had his back to him and seemed unaware he had entered the room, so deeply locked was his concentration on Nicky who was beneath him crouched, half slumped on the floor near the coffee table. He catalogued Hutch's state – his sweaty body and his running attire and the fact that Nick was hurt.
Hutch was the aggressor not the victim as he had feared initially when he'd heard the noises and Starsky read the signs well enough to realize his partner was primed for another attack on Nicky who was down and bloodied. Hutch was in full-blown fury and when he was like this it was never easy to pull him back.
Starsky moved quickly before Hutch rained down another blow on Nicky. Before even calling out he came up behind Hutch and pulled him back firmly holding the quivering bulk of rage steady in his arms until he felt his partner let go and relax into him. He spoke quietly but decisively, his lips close to the Hutch's sweat dampened hair and kept his arm wrapped firmly around the equally damp t-shirt that clung to Hutch's chest and back.
It was almost too hard for him to look at his brother. Clearly Nicky had given Hutch provocation and Starsky was already speculating what Nick might have said or done to have led Hutch to this extreme. Hutch had a temper that was formidable when elicited but as frightening as Hutch's rage could be it usually took significant provocation to incite his caring, gentle partner to unleash it. There was however one sure way to make Hutch snap and that was for someone or something to threaten or hurt his partner. It hurt Starsky to have to accept that there was a good chance that his own brother was paying the price for having done exactly that.
Starsky said all he was prepared to say to Nick, telling him to go. He simply wanted him out of his sight. It was all piling on top of him – Vanessa's murder, his involvement in the investigation and Nick showing up and filling the spaces in his head and heart with wretched pain.
Without saying anything else he walked out on Nicky and Hutch, leaving the two of them to sort out whatever was between them.
A short time later, he sensed that Hutch was standing not too far away from him. Not close enough for Starsky to feel his warmth, or smell his distinctive familiar smells, but still close enough to know that Hutch was standing, waiting, guarded and uncertain of his place. Feeling guilty as Hutch so often did Starsky surmised. It made Starsky sigh deep and hard. His loyal, loving friend, shamed and remorseful for doing what he could no more help himself from doing even if Starsky begged him not to. Protecting him as he always did.
Starsky didn't turn around "How did Nicky get to be here?"
"He was waiting for me on the street when I got back from my run."
Running, always running. What are you running from Hutch?
"Maybe this time – just this once then, ya' should of kept on runnin'"," Starsky said to the air in front of him.
"Maybe you're right," the self-recrimination was evident in Hutch's voice.
"Don't look like that Hutch. "
"Like what?"
"Like I know you're looking."
"Starsky, you've got your back to me." And Starsky could see in his mind how Hutch would be rolling his eyes at him in frustration.
"Don't need to see your face to know what will be written all over it." It would be covered in guilt and the light blue eyes would be brimming with it too.
He heard the heavy sigh from Hutch and knew he'd been correct.
"I'm sorry Starsk. I know it hurts you when I act the way I do with Nick. I shouldn't have done what I did – shit – I just lost it –" Hutch cursed softly. "Hell I'm losing it all over the place today aren't I? Me and my freakin' temper."
Starsky turned then and walked toward his friend. Hutch was a study in regret – his sweaty damp blond head down and his shoulders slumped.
"My big blond softie with a big black temper and a mean right hook," he picked up Hutch's hand and stroked his thumb across knuckles slightly swollen and reddened.
"Starsky – he's your brother. I – I should've tried harder to control myself."
Starsky looked into Hutch's remorse filled eyes.
"I know you partner," Starsky said, "you don't rain down on people for no reason."
"I'd like to tell you he gave me reason – but I know that's still no excuse for what I did to him." Hutch held his hand still, seemingly soothed by Starsky's touch across his lightly abraded flesh. "
"Nicky might be my brother but I know what he is Hutch. It hurts, I won't pretend that it doesn't. It has always hurt and probably always will - but I know what he is."
"Starsk…" Hutch's eyes flooded with empathy as put his left hand over the top of Starsky's, stilling his movements and holding his hand in place.
"What did he want from you?" Starsky asked.
It didn't surprise him when Hutch hesitated, looking away, thinking…. and Starsky knew his partner was weighing it all up. How, what or whether to say at all what had gone down with Nick in his absence. Protecting him, standing guard against the truth or the pain that he didn't think Starsky could cope with or want to hear.
"I walked out on him at Huggy's," Starsky said, wanting to let Hutch know that he wasn't going to be surprised with what Hutch didn't want to tell him. "I needed the time to think. He was all over me for information and details about the investigation. It was – " Starsky's mouth was tight with reluctant acceptance, "well beyond just brotherly concern. I'm guessin' then, that he came here to get all over you with the same line of questioning? I'm also guessin' you didn't much like what he had to say to you. So you thought you'd shut his mouth with your fist." Starsky tried a tentative grin but Hutch was hanging onto his guilt.
"Worse than that." Hutch admitted. "You'll probably hear it from him anyway… going to have some bruises on his neck as well as his face."
"Really gave him the Hutchinson treatment then…" Starsky raised his eyebrow. No wonder Nick looked like he'd been run over by a truck. Hutch would have probably scared the shit out of him. "Might as well tell me what he said to piss you off like that."
"He knows about the drugs Starsk." Hutch looked pained as he said it. "Worse than that – I think he's here to find them. Someone is feeding him information."
"I figured as much from our little talk at Huggy's," Starsky said. "I also figure he knows a lot more than he's gonna tell us."
"Says you're in danger Starsky…not just from the law but from whoever wants the meth. I'm concerned he knows something about the two thugs that broke into your apartment."
"I was followed when I left the bar. A car tailed me when I was on foot and when I got a cab back here."
"Jesus Starsky…" Hutch pressed his lips tight against the worry.
"Got the plates – dark green Dodge – latest model – no doubt a rental. We can run it but I don't expect too much…"
"You think Nick set them on you?" Hutch wondered.
"Maybe – but then Nicky wouldn't have expected me to go anywhere but the station or back here. I'm thinking they're watching Nick as much as they're watchin' me. Maybe they think Nicky's gonna unearth the meth for them?"
"You got any ideas of who might be behind Nick coming here? Hutch asked, and Starsky knew he was treading softly with him and that Hutch already had his own ideas on the matter.
"Yeah. Course I do. As much idea as you have Hutch, so stop tiptoeing 'round. You don't have to do it – told ya', I know my brother," Starsky told him. "It's a good guess he's in Durniak's pocket."
"Tony Durniak. Are you sure?" Hutch looked worried for him, but it was clear he had already considered the same thing. "He wouldn't spill anything about who might be behind him coming here for me."
"Me neither – but you and I both know that's a likely bet," Starsky concluded with weary resignation. "Nick turns up, hits us both up with twenty questions, acts suspicious and makes heavy references to his connections back home in New York …. then he gives you enough suspicion to punch his face in…. out of the blue I get tailed. It just adds up too easily doesn't it?"
Hutch stayed quiet, as though waiting for Starsky to finish whatever else he wanted to add.
Know me too well don't you Blondie?
So he added the last bit, the bit that hurt him to the bone. "He's such a disappointment Hutch, a total, fuckin' disappointment."
Hutch nodded understandingly but Starsky knew his partner would have chosen far more extreme adjectives to describe Nicky. Like he usually did, Hutch kept them to himself, somehow thinking he would wound Starsky by saying what he really thought of Nicky. Well, one look at Hutch's swollen knuckles spoke volumes about what he wouldn't say out loud to Starsky.
You can smack him in the face and choke the breath out of him but you can't risk telling me straight up how much you really hate him.
"So how you want to play this Starsk? Nick obviously has information we need, " Hutch changed the subject. It didn't take a genius to figure out that again he was trying to take Starsky's mind off his how bad he felt about Nicky.
"That's almost for certain. If I'd played him out a bit more back at the bar he might have given me more," Starsky said. "Instead I had enough and walked away."
"Well, I sure as hell didn't do too well in getting anything out of him," Hutch said. "Except some more abuse and a bloodied rug." He added with a small sheepish grin.
"Maybe ya' got to work on your interrogation techniques," Starsky said lightly. Subtly he was probing for might've have caused Hutch to let loose at Nicky in such a violent attack. "Ya' don't think perhaps you overplayed the heavy cop act just a bit too much?"
Hutch looked immediately evasive. "He's got a smart mouth Starsky and I didn't like the way he was being offhand about the danger you were in and yet not giving me any clues to work with."
Starsky knew there was more that Hutch wasn't telling him. Still now was not the time to push him for it.
"I'll handle Nicky," Starsky told him.
"We could just set a tail up on him," Hutch suggested.
"I'll deal with Nicky," Starsky repeated.
"What's that supposed to mean? This is the solid lead we need to break you out of this mess. You're not going to make this a family thing – Nick is holding information and we need to crack him open ….."
"No." Starsky paced away, and then back. "Leave Nick to me. You know he's going to pull against you. I know how to manage him better than you."
"Look I said I was sorry for beating up on him …"
"I don't care about that Hutch – I know you'd have had your reasons, I also know you're not tellin' me everything about it – but that's not the issue here," Starsky said. "I'd already decided what I was gonna do before I came back here and found you with Nicky anyway. He's my brother and I'll manage him."
"And if Nick is connected to Durniak – what then? You're going to leave me out of that too? You're not going this alone Starsky!" Hutch was yelling now.. "Don't you go and make this some Starsky family thing and lock me out…Nick is pure trouble. You throw your lot in with him and God knows what will happen. If Nick has got stuff – we need to take it to the police – throw it to the Homicide team…"
"I don't want the cops in this - at least not yet till I know what Nicky's role is. If he can help me then I will use that to get me out of this shit."
"You think I want you in with Nicky on this Starsky? He's a damn walking danger magnet, careless and self-centered….."
"Nicky might not be you Hutch, and I know you don't like or trust him, but he'll do what he can when it comes to helpin' out his big brother. Besides, he's right in a way Hutch. About the people from my early life – about connections…"
"Oh what crap! Those connections could just as easily get you killed as help you out of this mess."
"Not if I'm smart about it. And you – you Hutch, need to stay out of it. If I want to make contact with Durniak then that's my choice – you don't need to be involved. Not with Nicky, not with Durniak or whoever else is behind Vanessa's murder."
"Oh so this is your issue now? Yours alone?" Hutch was steaming now.
"Yeah it is!" Starsky retaliated. "You've got your career – my career is already on the line, yours doesn't need to be too. Nick and I can - "
Starsky's words reignited Hutch, snapping him back into anger mode.
"Forget Nick! This is not about Nick. This is about you and me! We've been through all this. How many times have I got to tell you I don't care what happens to my career? How many times before you believe me?"
For a moment Starsky considered Hutch's question.
"This is the big one that's why. If you get too involved on the wrong level with me and I go down for this, so do you."
Hutch's laugh was a stuttered disbelief.
"The big one? Then what the fuck is it we do every day together when we're on the job? Can you tell me that facing down a perp who is aiming to blow one or the other of our faces off doesn't rate up there with 'big'? What is it if not the 'big one' when you have my back or have risked taking a bullet for me more times than I can remember?"
"You're just makin' this more difficult Hutch." Starsky growled and stalked away toward the inside. "I simply want the chance to try and sort this out in my own way without you gettin' dragged into it. If Durniak is in the picture with Nick then you don't want to know about him. You bring the cops in – that will stuff up my chances of gettin' the guys who killed Vanessa."
"Don't tell me your walking out now to go to him?" Hutch caught him up, pushed past him and blocked the doorway.
"I'm only going to talk to him now that I'm sure he's involved –"
"How do I know that's all you're going to do? What if Durniak's men pick you up out there? What if Nick's set you up? You're not even armed!" Hutch glared and waved his arms about angrily. "I won't let you go until we work out a plan together."
About to make a decisive comeback, Starsky stopped. Hutch would not make this easy and suddenly Starsky knew that if he was really honest with himself he wasn't sure he wanted him to.
"Why do you have to do this to me Hutch?"
"I think I'm the one who should be asking you that question pal."
"I shouldn't have even told you what I was planning."
"I would have been on your heels anyway. Before you got to the car. Sooner than later. So there was no point to any of this in the first place."
"Be rational about this Hutch. Please. Take out the emotional side of it and be rational."
"You know I can't do that Starsk. Not when you're concerned. Sure, your partner Hutchinson can be the dogmatic, ruthless rational cop with others when he needs to be – but never with you buddy. Never with you Starsky," he finished softly, staying in place, barricading the door but reaching out to Starsky with his eyes – eyes full of gentleness.
Starsky worked his jaw back and forth like he did when something deep inside of him wanted to get out but he fought it back down. He sensed it and he knew Hutch could sense it too. They were back in almost the same position they had been in when Nicky had knocked on the door – only this time it was Hutch with his back to the door. Full circle. Full circle of actions and emotions, but now the emotions were even more intense as though they had magnified themselves in lieu of having been staved off by Nicky's intrusion earlier. Starsky wondered idly if maybe those emotions had been suspended in the air the whole time, left hanging exactly where they were when Nicky had broken their spell with the knock.
Despite the odds and the bad timing, Starsky knew they were both in the middle of a watershed moment. Something too long in the coming was breaking toward them and it would have a God almighty undertow when it pulled back out. Could he stay on his feet when it hit him? He wasn't sure – but it was coming either way.
"You could be puttin' yourself on the line here Hutch. Gettin' too involved with me on this…"
Hutch closed his eyes – for only a moment, as though he was making some sort of decision and Starsky found himself waiting for whatever he was going to say with an almost electrified anticipation.
"Too involved with you?" Hutch repeated. "Don't you think it's a bit late to notice that Starsk?" Hutch asked gently, squeezing his upper arm tightly. "I've been involved with you since the day we met and getting more involved with every week, every month, every year we've been partners."
Starsky looked down at the big hand that spanned around his forearm, and then back up into Hutch's sky blue gaze..
"Better watch it Blondie, anyone listening might interpret those words the wrong way." Starsky's weak grin was strained and shaky.
"Only you and me in the room Starsky," Hutch didn't smile back, totally serious, totally focused.
"Just sayin'. That's all….'bout the way it sounds, " it came out clumsily as he felt the burn in his cheeks at Hutch's more than subtle implications. Hutch was reeling him in slowly, closer and closer,, dragging him in with his emotion laden eyes.
Then Hutch took him by the shoulders, and turned them both around without a word so that their positions were reversed and Starsky's back was pressed against the door. The flush in his cheeks travelled down to his neck, and chest infusing not just warmth but the tingle of sensory response. Hutch's hands added to the heat searing through his skin as he held him fixed beneath him. Starsky felt the scorch burn deep inside of him.
"Better," Hutch watched him as he spoke, "I like this better – the door behind you – no where for you to go. This is where we were before – just like this."
"I think you're still wired from your round with Nicky – and your run," Starsky suggested, taken off guard by Hutch's predatory moves.
"I'm wired Starsk, definitely wired – but not from that." His soft tones were now a low growl, tinged with sensual arousal. Starsky's swallowed so deeply he felt the slide of his Adam's apple inside his neck. Hutch's eyes followed its movement before he laid his thumb delicately, caressingly over its protrusion. His fingers trailed to encircle the sides of Starsky's neck, slipping tenderly beneath the curling hair, his broad hands a bracelet around Starsky's throat. The light touch ripped through Starsky straight to his lower belly and groin. With his hands around the back of Starsky's neck, Hutch used both thumbs to stroke from his ear down to his collarbone, each stroke mesmerising in its gentleness. "Nick asked me if I liked to put my hands on your throat like this…asked me if I ever did to you what I was doing to him." Hutch frowned softly in memory, holding Starsky's neck still in the gentle clasp, seeming mesmerized by the skin of Starsky's neck beneath his fingers. "I wanted to tell him Starsk – that if ever I put my hands around your throat it would be nothing like what I was doing to him. Nothing like I would do to you, how I would touch your neck, your throat, your skin…." The blond head dipped down. "Nothing like this…."
His mouth began to follow the same path his fingers had just trailed, laying small kisses where the flesh was still warm from his touch, stroking its wet warmth over the skin, leaving a nerve tingling trail in its wake. Starsky's nose filled with the scent of Hutch bowed head as it brushed his chin and cheek, the smell of masculine earthy sweat caught in his still damp hair. He noticed how Hutch's baby soft hair was growing back in after his recent shorter cut, the soft wisps falling around his face, or sticking to his cheek when he perspired and curling a little at his ears. Starsky didn't realize until then how much he'd missed those silvery soft wisps, white in the sun and gold in the muted light. With only the slightest movement he was able to nose the fine blond hair a little, feeling its softness, breathing in its scent. The licks and small kisses found every spot on Starsky's exposed neck and throat, each area given equal attention by Hutch's mouth. Starsky felt the tiny pricks of Hutch's close beard as they rubbed over his slicked skin in the wake of Hutch's mouth and tongue finding new flesh to nuzzle. The soft rasp of his beard after the softest kisses and licks was doubly electrifying.
Without thought Starsky threw his head back, exposing his throat to as much as Hutch wanted. Heading upwards Hutch began to nip gently at his ear lobe. He traced the outer shell of his ear with his thumb first before his insistent tongue made an exploratory search of its own at the entrance of his ear. Just the sound of Hutch's tongue lapping near his ear was enough to have Starsky falling forward into his arms.
"Jesus….. Hu…Hutch." The way he struggled to get the words out Hutch might just have well been strangling the air from his throat rather than killing him softly with a moist bathing of delicate kisses and short tantalizing licks. The tantalizing baby sucks and nibbles at his ear interspersed with the barest flutter of silky moans of pleasure emanating from Hutch's own throat was sending blood rushing to Starsky's groin.
Hutch brought his head up, stopping his ministrations on Starsky's neck as his eyes zeroed in on his partner's mouth.
"We were interrupted before Starsky. It won't happen again. Someone can knock, the phone can ring, the intercom can buzz – but this time it won't stop me. " Hutch's voice was raw with emotion and something else that echoed desperate longing and hope. " Only one thing would stop me from doing what I intend to do to you."
"It would?" Starsky croaked, convinced now that if Hutch didn't in fact keep doing what he was doing and more that he might well self implode.
"If you tell me you don't want me to do it." Hutch said, waiting a fraction of time, his lips hovering over Starsky's, his eyes gaging his response, his breath quickening in time with Starsky's own.
"Do you want it Starsk?" The lips came down to lay over Starsky's slightly parted ones, the impression of their touch tender, their movements small and exploratory. Just a small taste of Hutch before he pulled back a little and bracketed Starsky chin with his hands. "Do you want this? Do you want it as much as I want you to want it?"
The achingly poignant questions from Hutch alone were almost too much for Starsky to bear. The raw exposure of his deep emotional pain was overwhelming. When Starsky saw the same aching pull in Hutch's clear blue eyes he knew he couldn't have stopped his shaking hands even if he tried. The need to enfold Hutch in his arms and touch him as he was being touched was fast becoming his own ache and he reached out to draw in what his trembling body so badly wanted. With a mind of its own his hand wrapped around the back of Hutch's damp neck and pulled him back toward him. This time his own mouth took the initiative, his tongue wanting in on the act as well, pushing its way inside of Hutch's mouth, finding Hutch's tongue, dancing over its surface, tangling a little with it before it darted out again. He let his lips meld hard against Hutch's, his teeth nip teasingly on the fullness of the Hutch's fleshy lower lip. Hutch moaned, opening his mouth wider, inviting Starsky back in, but Starsky took a breath, pulled away keeping his hands in the soft tendrils of Hutch's hair.
"Would you take that as a 'yes' Hutch?" Starsky rasped, his breath hitching with want.
Hutch's eyes were clouding with desire, his lids heavy with sensual hunger as his hands descended from Starsky's neck and face to his chest.
"I'll take it as a yes – but I want to take a hell of a lot more. Not sure if I can stop myself from taking it Starsky." Hutch groaned into Starsky's neck, pushing his tall body against Starsky's, shuddering with the intensity of his physical needs.
"Not sure if I want you to stop." Starsky smiled a little as Hutch's hands found their way inside of his shirt, his warm fingers catching on crisp chest hair and brushing lower to make contact with one already erect nipple. With slow deliberation Hutch released the top three buttons on Starsky's shirt, exposing the abundance of dark hair before pressing his face into its mat. Rubbing his cheek hard against the curling hair Starsky heard the first evidence of Hutch's dominating role slipping. "Can you possibly know Starsk? Can you?" he asked, the words sounding like a rumbling tremble on Starsky's chest. "I'm scared you don't."
Hutch was clearly distraught – torn between his physical and emotional needs.
"Know what? Not sure I get what you mean Babe? What are you scared of Hutch? Tell me."
"How very - very much I want you," he let the words out slowly, each one thick with emotion. " I've waited such a long time, waited to have you for such a long time. It's almost too much to take if you don't want it either." He made a sound that could have been a sob and the intensity of its pain ripped deep into Starsky's guts.
"Hutch…. Hutch," Starsky soothed, lifting Hutch's head up from his chest to look into his troubled face, "you're so busy worryin' about all of this that you haven't even realized what's been right in front of your face for months now."
Hutch's eyes opened wide – questioning hope shining out of them. "I haven't?"
"No – and you're usually so damn smart at workin' me out babe. Better than I am at workin' myself out," he emphasized by cupping Hutch's cheek." Seems though that this time I got there before you. It's all started to make sense to me in the past weeks – and only today if I'm really honest – did I face the truth."
Hutch waited, tender patience on his beautiful face, yearning and need put on hold while Starsky got out what he wanted to say.
"All the crap with the women, the wounded ego shit; even fooling myself that Clare mattered to me – all of it just because I was too damn fearful of accepting what I really want and need." Starsky's sighed, all at once tired of thinking, tired of analyzing. He brought his own hand to sneak under Hutch's t-shirt, now each of them with a hand on each other's bare chests. "Now the damn murder investigation is tryin' to stand in our way… " he frowned quickly at the mention of it creeping into the moment, before he went back to stroking Hutch's smooth chest.
"But you're right Hutch.. No more interruptions, no more delays. Forget a knock or a ring - a fuckin' bomb could go off outside and I don't think I'd be able to stop where this is goin' – where I want you to take me." With his hand still under the sweaty t-shirt he curled it up in a tight wad, using it to pull Hutch around and toward the bed alcove. "Come on babe – the waiting's over."
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