CHAPTER 11
By the time Dobey was finished in Hutchinson's apartment for the second time that evening, he was feeling more than ragged. Clumping heavily down the stairs from the apartment to the dark street, he approached the small trendy restaurant beneath the apartment and caught the last scents from the kitchen – now closed for the night. It reminded him that he was hungry, that he'd missed his own meal. His life was full of too many missed meals and lost family time, stolen from him by the demands of a stressful work life.
Not that his wife ever complained – ever supportive of her husband's responsibilities as Captain of Detectives. He could see Edith's eyes on him as he took the call from Hutchinson just as he'd sat down to eat, and knew she was already ahead of him when she lifted his untouched dinner plate from in front of him. She was gracious about his need to make a hasty departure that late in the evening because she had always had a soft spot for his two trouble-prone detectives. They had somehow managed to endear themselves to her years earlier, as they had with his two children. Starsky and Hutch were hotshots, not just in their own Department and the eyes of every junior officer, but in the eyes of the Dobey family.
What possible hope did he have with these two?
Dobey found the pair in question where he'd left them. They were still in the restaurant huddled at a small corner table, their heads close as they talked.
He walked up to them, nodding at the waiter as he did, signaling for a cup of coffee before turning back to his men. Starsky looked up to acknowledge him and pulled out a chair for him to join them.
"Cap'n? The Crime Team finished up yet?" Hutchinson asked.
"Don't think there's going to be all that much evidence for them to find, but they're packing up now," he told them, accepting the coffee from the waiter. "What's going on with you two that you're both so suddenly the center of attention?" He wanted to add something acerbic, but stopped when he realized how worn down both of them looked. There was nothing "hotshot" about them now, the last few days had depleted them of their hallmark vitality. He realized then that their nerves were probably stretched as tightly as his own.
"Seems that way doesn't it?" Starsky muttered. "Lucky that Hutch found the meth this afternoon or we wouldn't have known it'd been taken when we got back here tonight. Might have thought it vandalism – which we both believe it's not."
"No – seems too coincidental," Dobey agreed. "So now we have to decide what to do. I think it's best I call a team meeting in the morning and lay out what's happened tonight. We can keep the information about the meth away from the media, but we should hand the situation over to Homicide and let them handle it. They need to know about the meth in light of the break-in." He sat back in his chair and looked at them. "You got any ideas about who did this, who might know to look for the meth on Hutch's balcony?"
He saw something pass between them, their usual silent communication. It always unnerved him.
"No time for damn secrets. Spit it out," Dobey pushed. "I'd like to get home sometime tonight, so if there's anything you need to tell me, tell me now."
"Two possibilities," Hutch said. Dobey didn't miss the look of surprise on Starsky's face. Hutch gazed back, giving Starsky a nod. "We want to find out more about this guy in New York that Van was connected to. This Jake character. It's very possible that he was aware of where Vanessa planted the meth. You told us that the police questioned him and left him floating – well, maybe he came here to find the meth himself."
Dobey nodded. "Jake Webster. Already thought about that. The other possibility?"
Starsky started to say something but Hutch stopped him with a touch. Dobey knew he was being cut out.
"You mentioned Starsky's brother before," Dobey said to Hutch. Starsky stiffened as he did. "That he might know something. You talk to him yet? Think he might know who could have trashed your place?" The tightening on Hutch's face showed he'd hit the mark.
"Not just yet," Hutch answered, glancing at Starsky. "We got waylaid with the surprise on my balcony before we got a chance to talk to him. We're still hoping he can tell us something though," he said, his explanation sounding too careful.
Dobey regarded them both. "If you have reason to believe that he has something he can tell us about this case, we should be bringing him in for – "
"Nicky's my brother, Captain. I'd rather talk to him myself," Starsky said.
"Brother or not, Starsky," Dobey interjected, "we need to open this case up. If he can do that for us in even the smallest way, then we need to talk to him." He waited a pulse. When Starsky said nothing and Hutch looked at his hands, Dobey went on. "Why do you think he might be able to offer something about the investigation? What's the story here you're not giving me?"
"You agreed earlier to give us time," Starsky said firmly, ignoring his question. "Okay, so now things are different - but we've still got the upper hand while we hold the meth. Like I told you earlier this evening, Cap'n, we just want the chance to see what we might be able to turn up by talking to Nicky. He might not know a thing that could help, but I want the chance to talk to him by myself now that things have changed."
"Then why haven't you?" Dobey asked, his question a direct challenge.
Starsky hesitated before responding. Instead, his partner answered for him. "Nick isn't keen on meeting up with us while I'm around. Starsky's brother and I, well –we aren't exactly each other's favorite person."
Dobey shook his head in frustration. "So what? I don't much care about your popularity ratings, Hutchinson. Let Starsky talk to his brother alone. Whatever it takes, just do it and soon. Understand?"
"You can be sure of that," Starsky said.
"Good. And remember, by tomorrow morning this all gets laid on the table. I'm phoning in a request for Forensics to go over the bag of meth tonight for any prints. Maybe we'll get lucky by matching something from the meth parcel to whoever did the number on Hutch's garden." Dobey pulled out his cell, opened up his messages and scrolling through them. "Since you two are now both unable to return home, I've booked you a hotel for the rest of the night. You can head over whenever you want. It's the small Hilton on Paxton that the Precinct often uses. I'm sure you know it."
Hutch nodded. Starsky seemed preoccupied and didn't comment.
"You can go up to your apartment and grab some things before the boys lock up. I've arranged a patrol car to watch the place tonight in case our suspect or suspects come back for a second look." Dobey stood up, prepared to take his leave.
"Captain, before you head off," Hutch stood up, too, "I think we should tell you. On our way back here tonight from Huggy's restaurant, we caught Carlson tailing us."
"Carlson? Are you sure?"
"Oh yeah, we're sure alright," Starsky muttered, "It was him. Had a little up-close-and-personal chat with the lieutenant on the street."
"Starsky, if this is something I'm going to be hearing about tomorrow morning–" Dobey rumbled, his eyes narrowing with suspicion.
"Hey, he was the one following us. And that was after he challenged us openly in the precinct garage earlier today." Starsky stood up too, his chair screeching in unison to his slightly raised voice. "Besides, I kept my cool. Didn't touch a hair on his head. Not that I damn well didn't want to. Prize jerk! " He sounded as if the subject disgusted him.
"Maybe you didn't, but there are other ways you like to get up people's noses without using physical force," Dobey gave it back to him. "I know most of them considering how many years I've had to mop up after you and your temper."
"Carlson's fine – really," Hutch intervened. " He isn't likely to bring it up anyway, as he was clearly in the wrong. However there is a potential concern here, Cap'n that you need to know about."
"Oh?" Dobey broke his stern glare at Starsky to give his attention to Hutch. "You mean there's even more I need to worry about?"
"Carlson must have followed us from here to Huggy's and then again when we left there. If that's the case, then he may have seen you take the bag of potting mix with the meth out to your car." Hutch looked concerned. "Maybe he even followed you here in the first place."
Dobey chewed on the information for a moment. "Forget about Carlson. Let me handle him. The less you two have to do with him the better. Now, get yourselves organized for the night. You'll hear from me in the morning. That is," he winced as he stole a quick look at his watch, "if this is the end of the evening's drama. I'd really like to go home to bed."
SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH
Nick pressed his bruised face into the cold glass of his hotel window, welcoming its slightly numbing effect. It was better than nothing now that he no longer had any ice. The ice bucket he'd filled had run dry at the same time he'd finished his Scotch. He'd been sharing the ice between his glass and an icepack for his face while ignoring his insistent cell phone. His brother was surely one determined bastard.
He looked at the missed calls on his phone now as he tried to make a decision. No – while he tried to get the guts to do it.
Seven missed calls and three texts from his brother over the course of the last two hours. None of which he had responded to. He might have done so – at least midway through the evening when his wounded pride and bitter anger had finally abated. Hutchinson had really pissed him off by laying into him like he had done, but Davey was his brother and hard to ignore. He might have called him back earlier had he not got the other call. One he had answered because God help him if he didn't. A call from Durniak. And not from one of his men – but from Tony Durniak himself.
After he was finished hearing what Durniak had to say, he hadn't been able to call Davey back. He'd found it easier to keep drinking and holding a pack of melting ice to his face than doing what he knew he was going to do eventually. That is, if he wanted to grab a chance of climbing out of his pathetic life. If he was prepared to take the carrot that Durniak was holding out to him. If he was prepared to do what he was being asked to do.
He touched his swollen cheek and remembered how Hutchinson had humiliated him – not so much by his violence, though that had done its damage, but more by Hutchinson's attitude toward Davey. Nick detested the blonde's sense of ownership of his brother. Every time he met with Hutchinson, he seemed to be the most important person in Davey's life. He had usurped Nick's role, as Davey's real brother. That role rightfully belonged to him – not some queer who wanted to lay claim to Davey with his perverted love. But even after accusing Hutchinson of that earlier, and telling himself again that was why Davey wanted Hutchinson, in his heart, that wasn't what was ripping Nick's insides up.
Lovers or not, whatever it was that his brother and Hutchinson shared, he could not hope to break through it. That something was more than he had ever shared with Davey.
Hadn't his own brother allowed Hutchinson to degrade him, to drive him away from Davey's side? David had rejected him, his own sibling, for his cop partner. His need to retaliate was justified in light of what Hutchinson had done to him and what his own brother had not only failed to prevent but had failed to find fault with how Hutchinson had treated him.
The drink made him drowsy, in spite of the pain in his head and face. He couldn't afford to fall asleep without following through on what he had decided to do. It would be easier to do it before he lost the rage that vindicated his decision. Time to take the chance Durniak offered.
Nick turned away from the window and brought up his brother's number. With an unsteady hand, he hit the call button and waited to hear his brother's voice.
SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH
Starsky waited downstairs on the street while Hutch went to collect their necessities. With the restaurant now closed, Starsky leaned against the wall, debating tracking down Nick's location by getting Dobey to request a fix on Nick's cell phone by tracing him through the car rental agency he'd noted earlier when Nick was driving them to Huggy's. As a cop, he stored these pieces of seemingly unimportant data out of habit.
Even with his brother.
Who the hell was he kidding?
Even more so because itwas his brother.
Starsky knew Hutch had left him down here alone to give him the chance to make up his mind about seeking out Nicky. Before he had gone upstairs to his apartment, Hutch had made a simple suggestion that would negate the need to use third parties.
"Look, Starsky, just text Nick again, and make it clear you'll meet him without me," Hutch had said. "If he thinks I'm out of the picture, he'll probably surface."
"Thought you were hell bent on being around," Starsky replied. "I know you don't trust him."
"I don't, but you need to talk to him before morning. Just pick a place where I can be nearby. I think if you say that, you'll get him to agree to talk. I'm the reason he's avoiding you. I'm certain of it. I don't think you'll need to involve anyone else in finding him."
He'd give Hutch's idea a try. In all the texts he's sent so far, he hadn't made it clear that he'd meet with him without Hutch being there also.
But his phone buzzed just as he was starting to text and Nicky's name flashed on the screen. He punched the button, angry and relieved to see it.
"Nicky?"
"Yeah – it's me."
"Are you okay? You sound like hell."
"How do ya think I oughta' sound after your partner put his fist in my face and choked the shit outta me?"
"You've been drinking. You're not doped up, are you?"
"Now, there's an idea…but I'd have to go out on the street to score and I'm too damn tired and busted up to do that. No one'd give me a deal with me lookin' the way I do."
"Nicky, you didn't show. At Huggy's, like we arranged."
"Thought better of it. Thought I'd rather keep my own company."
"I've been callin' you for hours."
"I know that. Too bad. I'm sure your partner kept you company - "
"About Hutch…"
"Don't mention that motherfucker's name to me."
"I want to talk to you. Meet up, like I said. No Hutch – just us."
"Why? You had your chance today – brother - and you walked out."
"Nicky, please. Can we meet – just you and me?"
"I'll ask you again. Why?"
"Cause I need your help, that's why. Okay, so today I didn't listen – about what you tried to tell me. You had some things to say about –back home, about ties you still have there. I guess I didn't want to hear it."
"So?"
"Jesus, I'm askin' you now all right? I've told you I need your help. I'm lookin' at a prison sentence here, brother, and whether I like it or not, I'm startin' to realize that I might just have to use whatever it takes to clear my name. If you can – if you have anyway – any information – anything at all that you think I could use…"
"What's changed since today that you're asking for this now? You didn't want to know a thing about what I had to say today. And your hotheaded partner sure as hell didn't either. Now, all of a sudden, you want to talk. What gives, Davey?"
"Time is what gives. It's runnin' out for me, Nicky. The investigation is drying up – there's no one else but me in the picture. The missing meth you seemed to know about – it could be the only thing that could open the case up. You might know something more about that than I do." There was a long pause and Starsky suddenly worried that Nicky had hung up. "Nicky?"
"We'll meet. No Hutchinson. Agreed?"
"Agreed. Where? Which hotel? Where're you stayin'? I'll come over now."
"Davey, not tonight, for Christ's sake."
"I'm on a time frame. I need to come up with somethin' fresh to get me out of this mess. That's what I'm countin' on you to do, brother. Help me shed a little light on a few things, with all those connections you still have back home. Come on, will ya? It's not that late…"
"It's nearly one and I'm fuckin' wiped, Davey. I wouldn't even be conscious if it wasn't for the pain in my face that your fuckin' partner put there –"
"I really need to move on this and fast."
"In the morning. It's not as though a few hours will make a difference. I'll come and meet you somewhere in Venice."
"No. We're not goin' to be here in the morning."
"What do ya mean by that?"
"It doesn't concern you Nicky and I don't want to talk about it over the phone. I'll text you the address of the Starbucks just near the hotel we'll be stayin' in. I'll meet you early in the morning. Six?"
"Jesus, Davey, six?"
"I can't wait any longer."
"You show up with Hutch and I leave."
"You've got my word. Be there, Nicky. I'll call you at five."
"You don't need to. I'll be there."
"I'd rather not have to play cop with you, not when I should be able to rely on your word as my brother. Be there."
SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH
Hutch waited outside the door of the hotel room with their overnight bags slung over his shoulders while Starsky wrestled with the electronic door key. When Starsky got the door open and slid the electronic card into place the room opened onto muted lamplight and the air conditioner kicked on with a low hum.
Starsky let out a whistle. "Either we got an upgrade or Dobey's showin' his sympathetic side, since we've both been tossed outta our places." He accepted his bag from Hutch and walked into a small suite. He tossed the bag carelessly on the nearest of the two double beds and appraised the room.
Hutch dropped his own bag on the second bed and walked over to the expansive window that looked onto the street below. He too, was surprised by the size of the room. "Probably all they had left at short notice, I guess. Big by departmental standards, that's for sure. I'm impressed." He studied the view from the window. "It's got a good vantage point to see the Starbucks across the road."
"And I imagine you'll be using that vantage point to its fullest," Starsky quipped beneath his breath as he unzipped his bag.
"You sure Nick knows to meet you there?" Hutch ignored the soft jibe and tried to keep the concern out of his voice. Starsky had jumped down his throat enough already for nit picking the outcome of the conversation he'd had with his brother.
"Yep." Starsky huffed out a breath. "I'll give him a wake-up call at five just to make sure. Is that good enough?" He asked, more with resignation than anger.
Hutch turned and faced him. "I just wish we knew what he's up to. He's got an agenda."
"Hutch, we agreed to that four conversations back. What's still eating you? You were the one who suggested that we set up a brotherly meet in the first damn place. And you were on the money. At least he's agreed to come out of his hidey hole to talk to me."
"I know that. It's just –"
"It's just that you don't trust him." Starsky sighed and wrestled with his watchband as he eased it off his wrist and rubbed absently at the mark it had left.
"He can't be here on his own steam, Starsk. That's what worries me."
"Well stop worryin'. It's Nicky – my kid brother. He's pissed at me like you said, for what happened between you and him this afternoon. But, at the end of the day, he's probably just looking out for me in his own way."
Hutch could have finished Starsky's sentence better… in his own way, as long as Nick's getting something out of it for himself. There had to be some gain in it for Nick, even if it came at a cost to Starsky, his own flesh and blood.
Hutch could feel Starsky waiting – expecting some sort of comeback, but Hutch didn't give it. He kept it to himself for once and looked away, busying himself with unpacking his bag. He wasn't going to push the point further. Starsky was still a long way from admitting the true extent of Nick's shortcomings, at least out loud.
Tossing his shaving kit onto the side dresser, Hutch shook the creases out of a folded shirt. It was better than having to show his frustration at Starsky's blinkered view of Nick's nefarious side. As he draped his shirt on a hanger in the closet, he tried for casual. "You're pinning a lot on what Nick might give us. A hell of a lot." He turned from the closet and could see Starsky was annoyed.
"If I handle things right, Nicky'll be okay."
"I don't give a damn if Nick's okay with anything, Starsky. We need information on what he knows."
"Hutch, for God's sake. Just let me handle it – let me handle him."
"And? If he fails to come up with the goods? What then? We'll be facing down Homicide and IA either way in the morning once the meth is revealed."
"Then I guess we have to use what we have," Starsky said with no hesitation. "We've got the meth now, the big prize. The reason all of this happened. Tony Durniak would be more than interested to know where and why his meth went missing – and we know those answers – or at least some of them anyway. And – on our side, Tony knows the two men who worked for him before they stole his meth. The same ones who busted into my place and got Vanessa killed."
"So you're saying we play Tony Durniak off – "
Starsky interrupted him. "You know what I'm sayin'." Starsky leaned down, not looking at him as he toed of his shoes and began unbuttoning his shirt.
The coldness of Starsky's tone, the edge to his words, had Hutch more than a little shocked. "I do, but I don't like it," he said tersely. "It sounds like crazy talk to me."
"Why? Not so crazy when it's my only 'out'."
"Crazy because it's fucking dangerous, that's why, Starsky!"
"You asked yourself what's next if Nicky doesn't give me a way out of this. It seems clear. We've got information Tony wants, and he's got what I need."
"You can't manage Tony Durniak on your own terms." Hutch reached across the gap between them and jerked Starsky's arm as he was managing the last of his buttons. "Not unless it's approved by Dobey and Homicide. IA, too. You can't afford the risk professionally or personally to negotiate with him on your own."
"I know all that, Hutch, but that isn't the real issue here, is it?" Starsky pulled his arm back, not quite a jerk, but forcefully enough to allow Hutch to know he was serious. "It's not my goin' behind Dobey's back that's got you all fired up so much as the possibility that I might go behind yours."
"I don't want you doing anything stupid without me, Starsk," Hutch said, knowing Starsky had pegged his fears.
"Well, stop thinkin' that way, Blondie." Starsky's face relaxed, his tone lighter. "Because that won't be happening. I'm not stupid enough to go it alone with Durniak or anyone else that Nicky might be connected to. Whatever Nicky can give me, I'll bring it back and we'll deal with it together. I promise you that Hutch. No moves without you beside me." He gave Hutch one of his beguiling grins before he dropped down onto the bed, looking up. "Feel better now?"
"Yes, I do," Hutch answered.. Starsky's promise and engaging smile had done its job. "However, I think you're way too good at sweet talking me into believing you."
"Well, I've worked years to hone my act with you, partner, so I'm glad to hear that I'm accomplished." Starsky stood and swatted Hutch on the behind with his towel as he moved past. "Now, as I'm further progressed with undressing than you, I'm gonna hit the bathroom first and then turn in. Suite or no suite, all I want is the bed in the middle of it."
He was out of the bathroom again in usual Starsky lightening style, pulling back the covers on the bed and climbing in. He set his phone beside him on the small table and spoke to Hutch who was still at the window, still dressed, still thinking. "Hey? Remember the idea of hitting the sack? You gonna wash up or just stand and look outta that window and worry some more?"
"No – no, sorry, I'm turning in, too." Hutch reached for his towel and toiletries and moved to the bathroom. "Turn out the lamps if you want. I won't be long."
Despite what he said, Hutch took longer than he normally would in the bathroom with his nightly routine, knowing he was stretching out the time so that Starsky would have drifted off to sleep. It was easier that way. He couldn't stop worrying about Starsky's meet with Nick. He wanted nothing more than to climb into bed with Starsky and make those worries recede with some close personal contact. He looked at himself in the mirror as he wiped his damp face.
Was that the full truth? Was that all he needed and wanted from his partner right then?
The mutinous tightening in his loins told him otherwise. Despite the lateness of the hour, the momentous day they had both had, and the ongoing pressure to find an out for Starsky in Vanessa's murder investigation, Hutch's body wasn't as tired as his brain. It had its own ideas on what it wanted to do to ease away the sexual energy that kept building whenever he looked at Starsky.
Too bad, Hutchinson. Not now.
Sleep and rejuvenation is what they both needed, not sex and further energy depletion.
He tossed down his towel and toothbrush, smacked off the bathroom light, and walked back into the room. The sight of Starsky still awake, lying to one side of his bed with the covers pulled back, and his eyes watching the bathroom door, gave Hutch a moment of uncertainty. He stopped in mid-stride.
"Took your sweet time about it, Blondie," Starsky drawled sleepily.
"You're still awake," Hutch said unnecessarily.
"Barely. I've been waiting for you…"
Hutch walked closer and stood beside the bed. He could feel his body reacting to Starsky's proximity as his brain fought the reaction. "Starsky? Don't you want to get some sleep? You need it after the day we've both had."
Starsky's answering smile was both tender and provocative. "It was a big day, wasn't it? A sorta' milestone for us."
Hutch felt warmth shoot through him when he realized what Starsky meant. "It was – a very memorable and special day…but it was also stressful and wearing."
"I know what ya' meant, Blondie. But it was a day where we were still together – as bad as some parts of it might've been. Who knows how many more I'll get with you?"
"Starsky don't –"
"Okay I won't. No more gloom tonight. Just get in here, will ya?" He patted the bed firmly, his lopsided smile softened by sleepy fatigue. As he reached up, the sheet fell away to reveal his bare chest and the dark line of hair running from his naval to beneath the sheet. He was naked beneath the bedclothes.
Nothing new there, Hutch told himself. Nothing new for Starsky, but so very new for Hutch ever since their relationship had rotated wildly on its axis.
Despite his own exhaustion, Hutch couldn't help but notice the smallest details of the body he knew so well. For tonight he was looking, not just at his partner, but also at his new lover. Every feature, every small part of Starsky's familiar body was a gift to his heightened senses. Every move, every sound and smell jumped out at him. Like the way Starsky's crisp, dark chest hair caught on the starchy sheets as moved close to pull Hutch nearer; the way the lamplight picked out the velvety darkness of the thick lashes that fluttered upward with his inviting smile; and the definition of his shoulders as he flexed his arm forward to reach for Hutch.
None of it could be ignored. All of it had to be experienced at closer range. As close as Hutch could get to what he had only dreamed of having for so very long.
Silently, Hutch removed his loose-fitting drawstring pants, pulled the covers back further and eased his long body in beside Starsky. Selfishly, he left the light on, not wanting to lose a chance to drink in the sight of the warm body curling eagerly around him.
"I know we should be sleeping, but I don't want to waste one moment now that I've found you," Hutch whispered, letting his hands slide beneath the sheet to feel the naked smoothness of Starsky's hip and the heat of his well-muscled thigh beneath the cool covers.
"Hey," Starsky used his own hand to give Hutch's bare ass the quickest of indignant squeezes, "who said you found me? Why can't I be the one who found you? Didn't I make the first move?"
Hutch gave that some thought and then raised his eyebrow. "I can't really be sure. We'll have to go back and reconstruct the crime. But, all right then - " Hutch pushed a curl away to drop a long soft kiss on Starsky's temple, "we found each other – after all this time together."
"Hutch?" Starsky spoke against Hutch's cheek. "Did this…this thing between us, did it just happen or did we make it happen?"
Hutch lifted his lips from Starsky's temple and looked at him, the sincerity in the familiar face unmistakable.
"Are you asking whether this is fate or design? Because that's something I don't know – would ever know…" Hutch stopped his ministrations for a moment.
"I don't know what I'm questioning." Starsky took hold of Hutch's hand and squeezed it reassuringly. The small move was enough to push away Hutch's mounting fear that his partner might be having second thoughts. "All I know is that this feels good, feels so damn right. But it's also – it's -"
"Frightening?" Hutch provided. "I know that. I'm frightened too, babe."
Starsky pulled at Hutch's hand to press it against his lips. "It's goin' to be different for us now, isn't it?"
"Yes. It'll be different. You think you'll be okay with that?" It had to be said, the words slicing Hutch's heart like a knife. He had dealt with all of this himself, or at least a lot of it. He had to consider that Starsky might not have even begun to do the same. It was all so new and there were so many other more pressing issues in their way.
"Not just that it'll be different," Starsky went on. "It'll be - well, complicated. Complicated and totally new in every way."
Hutch nodded, swallowing against his fear. "You think the difference might be too much for you to manage, Starsk?"
Just when Hutch was starting to seriously rethink the idea of sleeping together while Starsky was talking like this, two dark blue eyes lit up with a hint of mischief, despite the edges of fatigue evident in their heaviness.
"You questioning my versatility, babe?" Starsky reached up and gently twisted his ear. "I can do different - just as well as you."
"Ow!" Hutch seized Starsky's wrist and pulled the annoying hand from his ear. "No, Starsk, I'd never do that." He smiled fondly as he moved in again closer to look into his lover's dancing eyes.
"Just as well," Starsky yawned. "Now, how 'bout you put those long arms of yours to use to turn off that lamp behind you? Then maybe we can get down to sayin' goodnight properly before I go and disgrace myself by fallin' asleep on the first night in bed with my brand new lover."
Laughing softly, Hutch leaned back and did just as he was asked. With the lamp off, the room was still light enough for him to see the outline of Starsky's face. Hutch let go a long breath of contentment as he leaned down to take that shadowed face into his hands. The two of them shared one long, slow and loving kiss before Hutch knew Starsky had drifted into sleep. Smiling in the semi-dark at how quickly Starsky had slipped away into oblivion, Hutch brushed a few more kisses across Starsky's lightly whiskered cheek. Satisfied with the contact, he smoothed the sheets and settled down close to his partner, laying his arm across Starsky's chest and wrapping his hands around his shoulder.
Despite the reassurance of having Starsky so close to him, Hutch still felt the weight of worry like a rock in his stomach. He shuffled closer to the warm body and fixed his gaze on Starsky's face, determined to keep the fear out of his head and enjoy these special moments until sleep took him as well.
SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH
What was left of the short night was gone when Hutch next opened his eyes, the greyish morning light creeping in around the edges of the heavy drapes. He didn't need the distant ping of an elevator to orient him, realizing where he was and why immediately. He heard the shower running and his hand went out to touch the still-warm space beside him. Starsky hadn't been awake and up for very long, either.
He squinted at the digital clock; it was already past five-thirty. Allowing himself a minute to fully wake up, he climbed from the bed and drew back the drapes, letting in the beginnings of the day. He fixed his sights on the Starbucks cafe across the road.
Nick, you better well show.
The shower shut off, its sound replaced by Starsky's early morning cough, the steam no doubt helping to decongest his lungs. That distressing reminder – a brittle, too tight cough, was something that Hutch had become accustomed to hearing over the past month or so. God, how he resented that sound and what it represented. Starsky's recent addiction to nicotine.
Damn those cigarettes…
Starsky emerged from the steamy room, his body and hair still damp, with a towel snugged tight around his waist and apology on his face.
"Mornin', babe. Sorry, but I couldn't help but wake you. Hotel rooms make it too hard not to." He walked up to Hutch thoroughly surprising him by leaning in close and dropping a gentle kiss on his cheek.
It was all so new, so crisp and unexplored, this different place they had arrived at together. Never had they shared a morning kiss before. Such a small thing, but momentous, too.
Hutch breathed in Starsky's freshly showered scent and fingered the dark curls, still glistening with water droplets. A little lost for words, Hutch found his attention riveted on those few drops that had escaped the coils of dark hair and were finding their own path, sliding down the taut musculature of Starsky's neck. Starsky gave a light laugh at Hutch's mute state and proceeded to drop a second kiss, this time on Hutch's slightly opened mouth.
Hutch stood still and mute, more than a little paralyzed by the sensations that were erupting inside of him.
It was typical of Starsky to make the mastery of new habits seem so effortless. He had shifted easily into an unconscious display of overt physical affection without any obvious deliberation. When Starsky accepted something, wanted something, he went at it one hundred percent.
"What?" Starsky tilted his head a little in question. He'd obviously picked up on Hutch's surprised reaction. "Somethin' wrong?"
"No, I'm just – happy. Very happy," he answered simply before catching his partner's face gently in his hands and planting his own morning kiss on Starsky's lips. He made sure to take his while delivering it.
"Some bedmate I was last night." Starsky gave him a grin as Hutch finished the kiss by running his fingers along his slightly darkened jaw line.
"You went out like a light," Hutch agreed, still holding Starsky's jaw in his hands.
"Sorry. I didn't know I was that wrung out."
"You're stressed and worried – we both are. As it is, you only had a few hours sleep – like you have since this whole nightmare began. I'm sure we'll have to go in to meet with Homicide later this morning. You're going to be wrecked."
"I'll be fine. I can't afford to sleep until this whole mess is sorted out. Now, my blond beauty," he said, gently disengaging himself from Hutch's hands, "I need to get dressed before I change my mind and climb back into bed with you. I've already texted Nicky. He's on his way."
"I'll grab a shower and be out before you head off." Hutch said, already throwing his clothes onto to the bed.
"Don't be crazy. There's nothing you can do anyway. Go back and sleep for a while. I'll bring you back a coffee."
But Hutch shook his head. "I want to be ready in case Nick gives you something we can follow-up before we have to meet Dobey."
Starsky shrugged as he began pulling on his jeans. "Stubborn man."
When Hutch was finished showering and shaving, Starsky was fully dressed and standing by the window looking at his phone. "I'm goin' to head down now. He should be here any minute."
"You sure you don't want me to come with you?" Hutch knew it was a futile question as Starsky was already at the door, pre-empting any further commentary about his meeting with Nick.
"Hutch. No." Starsky sighed and opened the door. He toed the newspaper that was lying on the doorway's threshold before picking it up. "Here," he tossed the paper at Hutch who caught it deftly. "Go back to bed and read the paper. You never know, I might be today's feature." Despite his smirk, Hutch doubted he was joking.
"Don't flatter yourself, buddy – you're not important enough." It seemed the right answer because Starsky chuckled for real and gave him the finger as he turned and walked down the corridor.
"For that, you might not get the double espresso I was goin' to bring back for you," he called over his shoulder.
Hutch shook his head and grinned too, Starsky's light mood distracting him from his worry. But then, Starsky waved and disappeared around the corner toward the bank of elevators, and Hutch quickly forgot about being distracted. He slapped the newspaper against his hand, and turned to go back into the hotel room, the short reprieve over.
He dressed with quick efficiency and took the time to pull on his holster, snapping it into place as he stood looking out the expansive window. He watched Starsky disappear inside the Starbuck's. There had been no sign of Nick, so Hutch assumed he was already inside.
Within minutes, he watched as a dark Chrysler pull up outside the café. Two suited men climbed out, one from the passenger seat in front and the other from the back, and walked into Starbucks. A third person, the driver, remained in the car. Hutch leaned closer to the window, his heart rate picking up as his hand reached for his cell phone.
Those aren't businessmen. They look like mob muscle. Shit. Answer your damn phone, Starsky!
Starsky's phone continued to ring.
Then the two men walked back out, one flanking Starsky, the other Nick.
"Starsky! No!" Hutch yelled, his hand flattened on the window. He was angry at his impotent position. He hadn't trusted his gut feelings that something was going to go wrong with this meet, and let his partner go in alone.
He forced himself to note details as the men herded Nick into the front seat and Starsky into the back, knowing that he couldn't make it to the street from the hotel room four floors up in time to intercept the situation. He grabbed the hotel pad and sent the clock flying as he scribbled down the car's plates, then frantically tapped a text to Starsky's phone.
The big car pulled away into the street. If the men hadn't taken Starsky's phone, he might get a chance to see that Hutch knew he and Nick had been taken.
Scrambling to open the door, he was calling Dobey with his other hand. Dobey would authorize patrol cars to look out for the Chrysler. He tried not to think that it might be too late if the men had orders to take Starsky and Nick on a short ride or to change cars before they were picked up by cops.
By the time he'd filled in Dobey, he was running into Starbucks, cursing about how quickly everything could go wrong. There were only two baristas behind the counter and one occupied table. He'd ask questions but didn't expect to get much in the way of useful information.
After that, it would all come down to a search for the Chrysler.