On the first day of Christmas my true love gave to me
A big kiss under the tree

On the second day of Christmas my true love gave to me
Two Mars lights flashing,
And a big kiss under the tree.

Two Mars Lights Flashing

Dobey held his breath.

The call had come in at the end of the day and tomorrow was Christmas Eve. Most of the cops were already finding unused leave to finish their Christmas shopping.

Hutch had taken the call from his car. “I’m on my way to Starsky’s place and that’s about midway. Call him and tell him I’ll be late could you please Captain?”

Dobey called Starsky and wasn’t surprised to hear his flat answer. “Tell him I’m on my way – I’m closer.”

That was the last anyone heard from either of them.

The next day Dobey stayed at Metro as long as he could but when Edith had called him for the sixth time to remind him that he was singing a solo in the Carol Service he finally accepted that he might as well wait for news at home as in his office. As he left the building he made sure that dispatch knew where to find him and he picked up a beeper that worked.

Edith Dobey watched her husband as he greeted Cal and Rosie; chiding them for not being ready for the Carol Service and trying his best to hide his worry. She whispered to him, “They’ll be alright dear; I’m sure David has a guardian angel.”

“After all that boy’s been through if he doesn’t have a guardian angel then he made a pact with the devil.” They laughed.

Dobey sang his solo, but he wasn’t really aware of doing so. He was praying with all his heart that Starsky and Hutch had dealt with the call and gone home without turning in their reports. After all, they did that often enough when it wasn’t Christmas the next day.

As soon as they were home Dobey slipped the beeper out of his pocket to check that he hadn’t received a message and not heard it inside the church. Nothing.

Sighing and running a hand across his face he went into his den and picked up the phone.

The dispatcher on duty recognized his voice immediately. “Nothing Captain. No one’s heard anything.”

“What about back up units?”

“There was nobody there when they arrived – and Captain – Blake says that it didn’t look like there had been any kind of incident there either.”

Edith called him from the living room. “Harold; come and decorate the tree.”

Rosie’s voice piped up. “Come on daddy, we need you to put the star on.”

He heaved himself out of his chair and joined the rest of his family. Edith whispered, “Don’t worry dear – no news is good news – and we don’t want to upset the kids.”

He looked at the star in his hand. A perfect six pointed star like the one David had worn around his neck when he first met him all those years ago. Now the boy wore some kind of Chinese things that Dobey didn’t understand and found a bit too hippie for a cop. Hutch wore a moon and stars and what looked like a silver tooth around his neck so Dobey knew that he couldn’t complain about that.

“Daddy!” Rosie was staring up at her father, her big brown eyes wide with worry. “What’s the matter daddy?”

He put the star on the tree and lifted his pretty little daughter up and kissed her. “Nothing sweetheart.” He patted her on the butt and put her down. “Cal, take Rosie and go see where the candy canes are.”

“Yes dad.”

The phone rang around nine that evening, but it was Edith’s mother wishing them a Happy Christmas because the next day she would be flying to Atlanta to visit her sister.

Night fell. Rosie and Cal were sent to bed and Dobey and his wife sat staring at the fire flickering in the hearth.

“Do you remember when David talked you into having that gas log fitted. I thought Hutch was going to have a conniption; he was so shocked that anyone would have a fake fire.” Edith smiled at her husband.

“Yes, and Starsky was so excited because he’d dreamed of a real fireplace all his life but he doesn’t have a wall suitable in his house.”

His voice shook and she took his pudgy hand in hers and stroked it. “They always seem to come through dear.”

“But this time it’s Christmas.”

“I know.”

Edith finally decided to go to bed. “Harold?”

“No, I want to be awake if…if there’s any news.”

She sat down again beside him and curled up in his arms.

“Mommy! Mommy!” Rosie’s voice interrupted them.

Edith grinned. “Rosie you should be asleep!”

“But mommy, Santa’s outside! I can hear him.”

“Rosie!” her father shouted. “If you don’t go to sleep he wo…”

Edith put her finger to her lips. “Listen.”

He listened. Outside the house he could hear…no it couldn’t be…it sounded like….sleighbells.

Edith and her husband went to the window and pulled the drapes aside. Outside on the front lawn two oversized elves were hauling a sack of packages up to the doorstep. The scene was eerily lit by the glow of…

…two mars lights flashing!

Dobey and Edith hugged each other. Starsky and Hutch were safe and well.

On the third day of Christmas my true love gave to me
Three big burritos,
Two mars lights flashing,
And a big kiss under the tree.

Three Big Burritos

Huggy was polishing glasses. He had a cigarette hanging from his mouth and he was squinting at his work through the blue spiral of smoke that rose in front of his face.

The table in the middle of the bar was ready. Huggy placed a clean glass on the table and straightened the place settings. Starsky was semi-hysterical when he rang ahead to ask Huggy to prepare the scene; he was snorting back the laughter.

“That’s right Hug. Lay the table for one – Hutch lost the bet.”

Huggy thought he could hear Hutch protesting in the background but he wasn’t sure; truth was that Starsky was laughing so much he was having trouble hearing anything.

Hutch came down the stairs from the street entrance of The Pits. He looked grim. Like the condemned man about to eat his last meal – without getting his choice of menu. He walked across to the bar, giving the neatly prepared table a sour look.

“Starky’s not here yet then?”

“No.”

“Give me a beer Huggy – and a bourbon chaser. I’m going to need it.”

Huggy rolled his almond-shaped eyes and smiled flashing perfect white teeth. “Are you sure about the chaser?”

Hutch gave him an icy stare. “Sure!”

Huggy shrugged and pulled the lever to fill a glass of beer then turned to fill a shot glass with Jack Daniels. He pushed both of them towards the sullen cop and watched as the whisky went down in one. Hutch took the beer a little slower.

“Fa la la la la lala la” They heard Starsky singing as he came down the stairs. He appeared looking like a malevolent pixie. He was wearing a dark sweater and one of his more presentable pairs of jeans. A long red bonnet with a white fur border was perched precariously on his curly hair and he held a tray balanced on his left hand.

He winked at Huggy as he walked across the room and placed the tray on the bar.

He shook out a big white serviette and bowed to Hutch. “Your table awaits, oh Prince.”

Hutch glowered at him and finished his beer…slowly…while standing at the bar.

Starsky sniffed at the package on the tray. “Mmmmmmmm smells great.”

Hutch curled the edge of one nostril and sighed.

Huggy took a wine glass down from the shelf. “What do you recommend Starsk – red or white?”

Hutch snapped, “Beer!”

Starsky grinned. “Oh no, the thing to drink with this is Dr. Pepper.”

Hutch sagged visibly; His fate was sealed. He’d lost a bet with Starsky and yet again the stakes were a meal of the other man’s choice. Only this time the winner chose the loser’s meal and the venue.

He took his place at the table and Starsky tied the serviette around his neck.

Hutch sighed and shot one last pleading glance at his partner.

Starsky shook his head. “I won remember!”

Hutch held up his hands in surrender. “Ok let’s get this over with.”

Starsky opened the box.

Huggy laughed.

Hutch prepared himself to eat three big burritos under their vigilant gaze.

On the fourth day of Christmas my true love gave to me
Four flavored condoms,
Three big burritos,
Two Mars lights flashing,
And a big kiss under the tree.

Four Flavored Condoms

Hutch was singing as he walked into the squad room. The Christmas tree was already beginning to fill up with gifts. Minnie had draped it with tinsel but the cops had decided that this year they would hang small gifts for one another on the tree.

Hutch checked that no one was looking. He’d been doing his usual routine all week and the others were beginning to call him Humbug. He slipped the flat gold-wrapped package out of his pocket and hung it from one of the branches. He turned it so that the tiny label was clearly in view: ‘Starsky’.

Dobey’s door opened and Hutch moved quickly away from the tree. Minnie brushed past him and smiled. “Nearly caught you in the act; don’t worry, sweetie, I won’t tell.”

If only she knew, he thought as Minnie sashayed her way out of the squad room balancing a pile of files on her arms and pushing the door open with her hip. Hutch could understand why Starsky played her along – he also knew that his partner did it to tease him.

***

Christmas Eve arrived and the squad room was full of cops getting ready to celebrate. Starsky was wearing a Santa Claus bonnet at a rakish angle and had been put in charge of distributing the gifts.

“Minnie!”

“Captain, this one’s from all of us.”

And so it continued. He finally got to the flat package and read the label. “Hey, this one’s for me.” He opened his eyes wide like a kid and pulled the package from the tree. He shook it and pinched it and raised his eyebrows. “I wonder who it’s from.”

He caught Hutch’s eye and grinned. “Hey folks, the Grinch bought a gift!”

He started to open it and noticed that Hutch was blushing. He went over to stand next to his partner and pressed the scotch tape down to close the package again. “You know what folks; he’s so embarrassed, I’m not going to open it now…but I promise to tell you what it is.”

The cops all left the building and went home to their families, their friends and their lovers to spend what they hoped would be a crime-free Christmas.

***

Starsky slipped the package into his pocket and grabbed Hutch by the hand. “Let’s go bah a few humbugs, Hutchinson!”

The Torino pulled up in front of Venice Place. They had agreed to spend Christmas at Hutch’s place and New Year at Starsky’s. As they went up the stairs Starsky gave Hutch a friendly goose. “I’ll get ya, turkey!” Hutch laughed at the silly pun.

Hutch served them both a glass of wine and Starsky sat down on the couch. He’s already pulled off his jacket and holster and rolled back his cuffs to reveal his strong hairy arms. He unbuttoned a couple of extra inches of shirt and Hutch felt himself harden slightly at the sight of Starsky’s perfect torso with its dark covering of curls.

“Aren’t you going to open the gift?” Hutch said with a smile.

Starsky sipped his wine before starting to tackle the scotch tape again. He carefully opened the paper and grinned. “Do we need these?”

“Look at the labels.”

“Chocolate, vanilla, strawberry and caramel. Hmmm, my favorites. But like I said – do we need these. I mean I don’t think either of us is going to get pregnant.”

Hutch sat beside his lover and cupped his chin to turn the deep blue gaze towards him. “Don’t you ever have fantasies? I means when you were a kid and you learned how to use them, did you do it alone, or what?”

Starsky flashed him a wide toothy grin; his whole face lit up and his eyes twinkled with mischief. “Oh I get it. We’re going to play dress-up.”

Hutch nodded.

“Who goes first?”

“It’s your gift.”

“OK. I get to taste the chocolate.”

He undid the foil wrapper and carefully laid the condom on the table. “Come here, sweetie.” He grabbed Hutch behind the neck and pulled him down until their lips met. Starsky began to suck at Hutch’s lower lip to extract the moan of arousal that he loved to hear. He ran his tongue across Hutch’s lips and then pushed the tip gently between them. Hutch opened his mouth to let the intruder in. Starsky’s tongue explored Hutch’s teeth and began to entwine around his tongue. Hutch was getting hard and he wanted to undo his pants; but Starsky held his wrists firmly. “Let me.” He went back to kissing Hutch and at the same time his fingers found the zipper; he undid the fly and Hutch felt a slight release of pressure as only his underpants held his cock in control. Starsky reached inside the soft denim and pulled out Hutch’s cock. He sat back and looked at it lovingly. Chuckling, he leaned forward and picked up the chocolate flavored condom. He placed it on the tip of Hutch’s dick, taking advantage of a pearly dew drop to help lubricate the thing. Gently, fluttering his fingers as he did so, he unrolled the thin but strong latex until Hutch’s cock was totally enveloped.

“Oh look,” he said, “a gift-wrapped chocolate bar, and it’s all for me.”

He slid down to his knees and started to lick the condom. “Tasty, very tasty.” He lowered his head and Hutch took a handful of dark curls to push his partner’s face down into his crotch. Starsky started to suck harder and run his fingers through Hutch’s golden curls as he did so. He was putting full pressure on now and Hutch could feel it rising within him. Starsky eased off again; prolonging the pleasure as much as he could. Hutch was helpless at the mercy of his expert lover. Starsky lifted his heavily lidded eyes and looked up at Hutch. “Ready?”

“Oh god, yes, please…now….”

Starsky enveloped his cock in his mouth again. It seemed strange to Hutch – he could feel the effect but the condom was a barrier between him and Starsky’s warm mouth. Starsky ran his finger along the base of Hutch’s cock before taking the full length of it into his mouth.

Hutch let go. He fired into the condom just as Starsky raised his head.

“Hey, it looks like you blew up the balloon buddy.”

Hutch glanced down to his crotch and saw that the tip of the rubber had inflated with the pressure of his semen. Starsky removed it slowly – taking care not to spill a drop. He parted his lips and squeezed the contents of the rubber into his mouth. He licked his lips. “Mmmm chocolate on the outside and honey center.”

“Happy Christmas Starsk.”

“Absolutely.”

“Starsky?”

“Hmmm?”

“What are you going to tell the others that I gave you?”

“Candy – my favorite flavors. OK sweet-ass, which flavor do you want to try?”

On the fifth day of Christmas my true love gave to me
Five gold cock rings
Four flavored condoms
Three big burritos
Two Mars lights flashing
And a big kiss under the tree

Five Gold Rings

Hutch opened the package and stared at the contents. Starsky grinned up at him with heavy-lidded eyes and the intense blue of his gaze sent shivers up Hutch’s spine. He opened the small leather-bound box and shook the contents onto the palm of his hand.

Five gold rings. They were all the same size and none of them looked like they would fit any of his fingers; he gazed at Starsky who was smiling one of those subtle lopsided grins that only he seemed capable of doing.

“I don’t get it Starsk.”

“On the fifth day of Christmas my true love gave to me five gold rings.”

Hutch tried to keep the impatience out of his voice. When Starsky got like this he could be really annoying. “I can see what they are Starsky – I just don’t understand.” He tried to slip one of them on his finger but it fell off immediately. “None of them fit.”

“That’s because you aren’t trying them in the right place.”

Starsky leaned forward and kissed his partner softly. “You want me to slip one on you to see if I got the size right?”

Hutch was still kind of foggy about what these rings were meant to be used for; but Starsky’s hand was on his crotch and strong slender fingers were unbuttoning the new 205s that his partner had talked him into buying. Light began to dawn – but why five?

Starsky had succeeded in unfastening the jeans now and he was easing them down over Hutch’s hips. He placed his hand over the warm mound under the cotton of Hutch’s underpants and squeezed gently. Sliding his hands under the elastic he moved the cotton jersey down and Hutch’s erection sprang out like a jack-in-the-box. “Hello big boy.” Starsky said in a husky Mae West type voice. “Come up and see me some time.”

He slid down to the floor and kissed the tip. Then he ran his tongue along the length of Hutch’s tumescent cock. He caressed Hutch’s balls and started to hum the tune of the Twelve Days of Christmas. Hutch was squirming now; trying to hold back and desperate for relief – and he knew that Starsky had hardly started.

“You know what these rings are for now, don’t you?”

“Yea – no – I mean I….”

“The idea is that they help you keep it up longer.” Starsky reached up and took the box from Hutch’s hand. He slipped one of the rings into his mouth. “A little moisture might help in slide on better,” he said as he pushed out his tongue to reveal the ring round its tip. He bent his head over Hutch’s crotch who struggled to hold his breath.

Starsky licked once more then used his fingers to remove the ring from his tongue and slide it down the length of Hutch’s cock. “Perfect fit.”

He took Hutch into his mouth and began to suck gently. Hutch felt his semen rising, a hot tide ready to flow. Starsky sucked a little more then withdrew.

“Is one enough?”

“Oh god, Starsky, take me please. Now!”

“One for sorrow, two for joy. Isn’t that how the rhyme goes? Well we don’t want this to be a sad occasion do we?” He took the second and third rings and slipped them into place. Hutch felt like his dick was in handcuffs. He was on the verge of orgasm but at the same time the rings seemed to be holding him back and keeping him hard.

“Please Starsky. Now, please.”

Starsky wiped a dewdrop of pre-cum off the tip of Hutch’s dick and put his finger into his mouth, smiling as he did so. “Isn’t it funny how bears like honey?” he said with a giggle.

“Starsky, you’re my teddy bear, now get on with the picnic, please.”

Starsky smiled again and lowered his head to go to work. Hutch was writhing in ecstasy now; he was struggling not to slide off the couch. He pressed his ass hard against the cushion and held his breath as the sucking got stronger. Starsky was exerting a pressure like he’d never felt before – maybe the rings were part of it, Hutch no longer knew or cared. He was losing control.

Starsky took him deeper into his mouth and Hutch felt the throat muscles expand to take his ejaculation. Starsky had a capability to open his throat and swallow half a glass of beer in one – and he put it to good use with his partner.

Hutch was spent. He felt his semen shoot out of him and heard Starsky gulp. The curly head withdrew and Starsky was licking his lips. “The rings are still working; do you want to take me now?”

Hutch managed to pull himself sufficiently upright to see that his cock was as hard and engorged as it had been before he came. Starsky was standing up now. He unbuckled the stout leather belt that he wore – god knows why, his jeans were so tight they didn’t need to be held up. He shimmied his jeans down to his ankles and turned around. “I’ll let you do the rest.”

Hutch put his hands on Starsky’s hips and turned him back to face him. “There are two rings left…how many do you need?”

“Dunno.” He grinned wickedly.

Hutch pulled Starsky’s jockey shorts down to join his jeans and ran his fingers through the thick echo of his partner’s curly head. He ran a finger along the neatly circumcised cock that was the source of so much pleasure. Starsky sketched a salute and said “Ten – shun!” and his cock obeyed.

Hutch was still aroused and the cock rings were doing their job; he was beginning to throb with desire once again. He took one of the rings and carefully slid it to the base of the Starsky’s dark dick. “Let’s see if you can take it?” he said and he reached for the last ring. Starsky put a strong hand on his wrist. “Don’t be greedy – we need to keep some for emergencies.”

“Emergencies?”

“Yeah; like if one of us loses his in the john.”

Hutch replaced the ring in the box. He turned Starsky around and pulled him back onto his lap. He was moist from Starsky’s mouth and from his own cum and he slid into the waiting gates of heaven easily. Starsky groaned and pushed back. Hutch began to pump gently and the two men moved as one to find a more comfortable position. Hutch felt the tip of his cock make contact with Starsky’s prostate and he pushed a little more. Starsky let out a whoop as Hutch came. He wriggled his butt back against Hutch’s belly and moved just enough to keep his partner inflamed. Hutch recognized the signal to cup his hand around Starsky’s cock just in time for it to be filled with the ambrosia that he would lap up in a few seconds.

They lay together on the floor, and pale blue eyes met deep blue eyes.

“I have a question?”

“Yes.”

“I gave you the five gold rings; what are you going to give me?”

On the sixth day of Christmas my true love gave to me
Six hours of massage
Five gold cock rings
Four flavored condoms
 Three big burritos
Two Mars lights flashing
And a big kiss under the tree

Six Hours of Massage

Starsky lay on the ground and took a deep breath. How long was he going to be able to keep this up? How much longer before the day he couldn’t run or even walk anymore? How long before he was going to have to tell Hutch what happened in the jungle?

He lay back and groaned.

Hutch was coming towards him now. Starsky could see the concern on his face.

“Starsk?”

“I’ll be ok in a sec.” Hutch held out his hand and Starsky took it more gratefully than he was willing to admit.

“What happened?”

“I tripped.”

You bet I tripped. Into a great big goddam trap; fell about twelve feet and heard the bones break.

Starsky started back towards the car. “I take it they got away.” He said sourly. Hutch nodded. “They were kids.”

“And you can’t keep up with a couple of kids?”

“Hey.”

“Yeah I know. It’s just that…” He winced as he slid in behind the wheel.

“You want me to drive?”

“It’s not that bad!”

Hutch grinned. “Obviously.”

Starsky was still limping when they were ready to leave for the night. Dobey noticed it and called him back.

“Starsky go see a doctor before you come in tomorrow.”

Starsky turned and stared at him. “I’m OK Captain; nothing a hot shower and a little rest won’t handle.” Dobey wasn’t convinced – and neither was Hutch.

“If you don’t have a doctor’s OK tomorrow don’t bother coming in. That’s an order!” Dobey’s voice gave no doubt to what he meant.

Starsky sighed. “OK.”

“Why don’t we drop by Emergency right now and get that leg checked out?” Hutch said as they opened the Torino’s doors.

“Emergency! I tweaked it – I’ll be ok.”

“Dobey said no doctor, no work Starsk.”

Starsky turned the key in the ignition and bowed his head. “OK you win.” He drove to the emergency entrance of Memorial. Hutch was already half-way to the door when he realized that Starsky was still in the car. He turned and saw with shock that his partner was pale and sweating; and he had just wiped a finger under his eye. He went back to the car and opened the driver’s side door.

“Hey. Come on.”

“I can’t.”

“What do you mean?”

“What I said. I can’t get out of the car.”

“Stay there.” Starsky gave him a baleful stare; his deep blue eyes twinkled despite the obvious pain that they reflected. “I just told you I can’t get out of the car, didn’t I?”

“Don’t drive away!” Hutch said it firmly.

“I won’t.” It came out hoarse and Hutch heard the catch in his voice.

Hutch ran over to the desk and showed his badge to get the clerk’s attention. “My partner’s out in our car – he needs help.”

She looked up at him. “Wheelchair or gurney?”

“A wheelchair I guess. It’s his leg.” She called an orderly over and he fetched a wheelchair before following Hutch out to the Torino.

Starsky was leaning back against his seat and Hutch could tell that he was biting back tears of pain. The orderly eased Starsky out of the car and into the chair. Hutch walked alongside Starsky as they made their way back to the building. The orderly took Starsky straight to one of the examination rooms where a doctor was already waiting.

Hutch was asked to go give the necessary information about Starsky to the desk. He hesitated but his partner made a little gesture with his fists to show that he’d be OK.

By the time Hutch had finished the paperwork Starsky was on his way to X-ray.

“X-ray? But he just fell and sprained something.” Hutch stared at the intern in disbelief. “What are you trying to do increase the bill?”

“It’s a precaution.”

Hutch touched his fingertips tip his forehead and shook his head. “What kind of precaution? He didn’t fall from a height – he tripped in an alley.”

“Did you see him fall?”

“No – I – uh – I was running after the other guy at the time.”

Hutch stalked off in the direction of the X-ray department and sat down to wait.

They wheeled Starsky out about fifteen minutes later. A pretty nurse was pushing him back to the examination room and it was obvious to Hutch that his partner’s spirits were raised a little; but he still looked strained. The nurse explained that they should wait here and the doctor would be along as soon as he’d seen the X-rays.

 

“There’s nothing broken, but from what I saw on the X-ray I’m surprised you can run at all.”

Starsky said nothing for a couple of seconds before turning to Hutch. “Get me out of here willya?”

“Not so fast.” The doctor said. “There’s nothing broken but you have done some damage there. You ruptured a tendon.”

“So?” Starsky turned deep blue eyes up at the doctor as if challenging him.

“So you need to have it dealt with. I can prescribe you some pain-killers but you are unfit for duty until the treatment is over.”

“Doc…” Starsky started to protest. But his attention was attracted to a beautiful red-head who had just come into the room. “What treatment are you prescribing?”

“Regular massage. I’ll prescribe daily sessions…thirty minutes each over twelve days – that should do the trick.”

The redhead smiled at Starsky. “Do you want to come down to the physiotherapy department now and start right away?”

Starsky took control of the wheelchair and spun it around expertly. Hutch wondered where he’d learned that trick.

Starsky tossed Hutch the keys to the car. “One tiny scratch and you’ll need more than six hours massage buddy!” He followed the redhead to the elevator. As the doors closed Hutch heard Starsky chuckle and say, “this is better than the last time.”

On the seventh day of Christmas my true love gave to me
Seven silver handcuffs
 Six hours of massage
Five gold cock rings
Four flavored condoms
Three big burritos
Two Mars lights flashing
And a big kiss under the tree

Seven Silver Handcuffs

Starsky slipped out of bed and looked at his partner sleeping. The words of the old Leonard Cohen song drifted through his mind…”your hair upon the pillow like a sleeping golden stone.” Well his lover certainly slept like a rock!

He went into the kitchen and started the coffee. He set the oven to warm the bagels that he had brought home from the bakery the night before. He set a tray with butter and honey and blueberry jelly and padded into the living room. He carefully opened the drawer of his desk and took out the small package that he had so lovingly prepared a few days earlier when he had the place to himself. He looked at it with pride. It was wrapped in red paper and had an elegant gold cord around it. He put it on the tray alongside the coffee and bagels and plates and cups and carried it back to the bedroom.

It was a beautiful morning; he threw back the drapes eliciting a moan of despair from the sleeper.

“Come on sleepy head; it’s Christmas and Santa seems to think you’ve been good.”

Hutch opened one eye. “He wasn’t in here last night was he?”

“Only us. But I’m one of his official little helpers and I reported back in your favor.”

Hutch sat up. “It was good wasn’t it?”

Starsky dipped his finger in the honey and licked slowly it with half closed eyes; “very good.” He slipped back under the covers and pulled the tray towards them.

Hutch focused on the tray and swore inwardly. He’d left Starsky’s gift over at his place – but on the other hand maybe that wasn’t too bad. He decided to find a way of luring his partner over to Venice later that day. It shouldn’t be too difficult to do.

Starsky poured coffee and started to butter half a bagel. He spooned a little of the blueberry jelly onto it and held it out to his partner.

Hutch went to take it and Starsky pulled his hand back smiling. “Oh I get it.” Hutch grinned and he opened his mouth to be fed. Some of the jelly fell on his bare chest and Starsky leaned forward to lick it off.

“Don’t start now Starsk? We’ll spill the coffee!”

His lover lifted his curly head and nodded solemnly. “Yeah.”

Starsky prepared the other half of the bagel for himself dripping honey onto each bite with a spoon. They munched in silence and drank the whole pot of coffee.

“Aren’t you going to open it?”

“Huh?”

“Your gift dummie, aren’t you going to open it?”

Hutch blushed slightly and stammered; “I- uh – I – uh…”

“Just open it. Hey you can give me my voucher for a tree or whatever later.”

Hutch grinned. “You never forgave me for that one did you?”

“No more than you forgave me for the ant colony!” They laughed and Hutch ruffled Starsky’s wild curls. He gazed into the deep blue eyes that held so much mystery and yet spoke so eloquently when they had to. “I love you.”

“I know. Now open the gift before I change my mind.”

Hutch turned the little elegant package over in his hand; he shook it – but heard nothing to reveal its contents. Starsky grinned and encouraged him with a near-imperceptible movement of his eyes.

Hutch carefully undid the cord bow and unfolded the paper, marveling at how his friend could make a package like this without using scotch tape. He always had to ask the sales assistants to wrap his gifts – and this time he hadn’t even had the chance to do that.

The paper slid off to reveal the kind of leather box that jewelry comes in. He glanced at Starsky who was sitting sipping the dregs of his coffee and deadpanning.

Hutch opened the box and whistled.

“Starsky it’s beautiful.”

“I designed it myself.”

“You did?”

“Yeah. I found this little silversmith workshop over in Santa Monica and they made it for me. If it’s not a good fit they can add to it.”

Hutch tried it on. The bracelet made of seven tiny pairs of handcuffs fitted his wrist perfectly.

He leaned over and kissed Starsky full and hard on the mouth.

Starsky returned the compliment and before they could stop themselves the empty coffee pot and the contents of the tray fell off the bed. By then the two lovers were oblivious to the mess.

On the eighth day of Christmas my true love gave to me
Eight scented candles
 Seven silver handcuffs
Six hours of massage
Five gold cock rings
Four flavored condoms
Three big burritos
Two mars lights flashing
And a big kiss under the tree

Eight Perfumed Candles

Hutch tried to keep the bracelet hidden under the cuff of his sleeve but Huggy noticed it anyway. He whistled. “I knew you guys were close – but I didn’t know Curly had staked his claim.”

Hutch looked up and hoped he wasn’t blushing again. Huggy knew all about their relationship but all the same – was this bracelet so obvious a signal?

“What do you mean?”

“Well Hutch only those in the know can know what it means. You being a cop and all most people will just think it’s another of your fads – like that thing round your neck. If I didn’t know better I’d think it was a coke horn.”

“A what?!”

Huggy rolled his eyes. “Don’t tell me you didn’t know what it was when you bought it.”

“Well no, I didn’t. I just liked it and it makes a change from the moon and star.”

“Well Hutch, if you didn’t know it doesn’t matter.”

Hutch made a mental note to go back to the moon and stars.

Huggy hadn’t finished. “Of course some people might think that the bracelet meant something else.” Hutch held his breath. Did he dare ask? He asked.

“Handcuffs – a little tying down and getting on – if you see what I mean.”

Hutch shook his head.

Starsky chuckled behind him. Hutch hadn’t heard his partner coming into the bar as quietly as a cat – and Huggy must have seen him. Huggy was having fun.

“Huggy is talking about S&M,” Starsky said softly. He turned his dark blue gaze onto the proud owner of The Pits and grinned. “We haven’t tried that…yet!”

Hutch swallowed hard. He wasn’t so sure about that last remark – Starsky could string him along in such a way that it was positively cruel – and he had to admit he enjoyed it all the same. He turned to Starsky. “I’ve been waiting for you for an hour.” He sounded peevish.

Starsky touched his cheek. “Absence makes the heart grow fonder.” He grinned. “Sorry, but I had to put the finishing touches to Dobey’s gift.”

“I don’t even want to know,” Huggy said and the three of them giggled at the memory of the toilet pan with a big red ribbon round it carefully displayed on Dobey’s desk.

 

Hutch was still figuring out a way of getting Starsky over to Venice Place – or escaping from him long enough to pick up the package. He settled on the stool and ordered another beer; Starsky sat beside him and ordered a coke “with plenty of ice Huggy please.” He stroked Hutch’s wrist letting his fingers linger for a second on the bracelet. “How about seeing what games we can play tonight,” he whispered while Huggy fetched clean glasses.

 

They drank in silence – each man thinking about what plans he had in store for his partner. The phone broke the silence. Huggy answered it. “Yes. Yes they’re here. Ok I’ll tell them.”

He came back to the bar. “That was Mildred – she’s been trying to get you on the radio; there’s a hold-up going down over on ninth.”

 

Hutch stared at the front of the Torino for a second then shook his head. Starsky had already attached a large red nose to the grille and adorned the rearview with fake mistletoe.

“I’m surprised you haven’t put tinsel round the steering wheel,” he said grumpily.

“Hey that’s not a bad idea…will gold do, or maybe I can find some red.”

“Starsky!”

“I think Doctor Seuss must have met you sometime – the original Grinch.”

“Can it Starsk!”

Starsky swallowed and fell silent for a few minutes. Finally he couldn’t stand it any longer. “OK what’s the matter; did you fall out of bed on the wrong side or what?”

Starsky pulled over to the curb and parked. The two cops crossed the road and Starsky walked into the bank. Hutch stayed outside checking his gun.

 

Starsky walked quietly into the bank. The robbers were already at work; a man and a woman dressed in Santa outfits.

While the woman was stuffing a bag of money into a false pregnancy hidden under her costume her accomplice was raking money into a duffel bag. They hadn’t heard the cop who was capable of moving as stealthily as a cat.

Starsky didn’t miss a beat. He put his finger to his lips to warn the others in the bank not to react and drew his gun. He slip-stepped up to Mrs. Claus and pushed the barrel of his Smith and Wesson into the small of her back. “Oh dear, it looks like baby came prematurely.” He whispered in her ear. “Go over to the door.”

She walked carefully towards the door and Hutch stepped into the bank to grab her arm. Starsky was now right up close behind the other robber.

“Funny,” he said flatly, “I thought that donations were supposed to be voluntary. Drop the sack and put your hands where I can see them.” For a split second there was total silence in the bank, but suddenly the Santa turned and Starsky saw too late that he was holding a pistol. ‘Santa’ turned and lunged at Starsky taking him off-balance. There was a brief struggle and at one point Starsky felt his arm twist underneath him. He managed to get the better of the situation and finally had his man under control. He pushed him out of the bank, reciting Miranda as he did so, and handed Mr. Claus over to join Mrs. Claus in the back of the waiting black and white.

 

Hutch was already handing Mrs. Claus over to the cops who had arrived in a Black and White. “Book them; we’re supposed to be at a stake-out. I guess we’ll deal with the report later.”

Starsky pushed his prisoner into the back of the car and said “Ho ho ho!”

The two cops stood and watched the Black and White as it disappeared round the block.

“I guess we’d better go in and finish it off.” Starsky said reluctantly.

Hutch watched the patrol car disappear round the block. “I guess we should go in and finish it up.”

“Yeah.” Starsky didn’t seem convinced. Hutch touched his arm. “Hey, are you ok?”

“I dunno; I guess I kind of twisted my arm when I was fighting Santa off.”

Hutch saw his chance. . “Let’s stay at my place tonight, OK?” Starsky looked at him carefully. Hutch continued. “Yes, I mean it’s nearer, I’m thinking of your arm. I mean I could drive.”

“Hutch, it hurts, … but it doesn’t hurt enough to let you drive my car. And staying over at your place sounds good – I could maybe soak in a hot bath.”

That was somewhere towards what Hutch had in mind.

 

Starsky parked in front of Venice Place and the two men climbed the stairs to Hutch’s apartment. Hutch opened a bottle of wine and handed a glass to Starsky. “Drink that – I’ll go run you a bath.” Starsky started to take off his jacket but winced and rubbed his shoulder ruefully. Hutch helped him to get out of jacket and holster and then led him to the couch.

“I’ll be back to help you take the rest off in a minute.”

“Yes mom.”

 

Hutch slipped into the bedroom and retrieved the still un-wrapped box from under his bed. Starsky seemed to be engrossed in the movie…Judy Garland was singing and Starsky had kicked off his trainers and curled up on the couch with a big grin on his face.

Hutch undressed and slipped his robe on. He checked that everything was in place and tested the bath water.

“Come on Starsky – your bath is ready.”

Starsky stood up and winced again. “I may need a little help getting out of my T-shirt.”

“I think I can arrange that.” Hutch smiled at him. He eased Starsky’s T-shirt up his chest and over his good arm; he slipped it down over the sore shoulder. “Stand up.”

Starsky obeyed. Hutch unzipped the tight jeans and slid his fingers into the waistband of Starsky’s already straining underpants. He lowered both garments to the floor. As he did so he kissed Starsky on the lips. Starsky stepped out of his pants and allowed Hutch to guide him into the bathroom.

He stopped and stared at the scene in front of him. The bathroom was lit by the golden glow of eight candles burning in frosted glasses; they had been arranged around the tub and on the edge of the sink. The soft smell of sandalwood mixed with the heady perfume of patchouli. He turned to Hutch who was shucking off his robe.

“Happy Christmas Starsk.”

On the ninth day of Christmas my true love gave to me
Nine bathtub inches
Eight scented candles
Seven silver handcuffs
Six hours of massage
Five gold cock rings
Four flavored condoms
Three big burritos
Two Mars lights flashing
And a big kiss under the tree

Nine Bathtub Inches

Starsky looked around the bathroom and sniffed the heady mix of sandalwood and patchouli. He smiled up into Hutch’s eyes. “Oh my shoulder hurts,” he said, his breath coming heavily.

Hutch wrapped his arms around Starsky’s waist and half lifted him into the bath tub. Hutch placed a sponge on the edge of the tub and eased Starsky back so that his shoulder was immersed in the water.

Hutch waited for a while. “Feeling better?”

Starsky settled into the deep hot water and sighed. It felt good. His sore muscles were already relaxing. “Mmm. How about giving me a massage?”

“Move forward a little.” Starsky did as he was told and Hutch slipped into the tub behind him.

He started to knead Starsky’s shoulder, working his strong fingers into the sore and knotted muscle. Starsky groaned.

Hutch continued to rub and stroke his partner’s smooth skin. He never ceased to enjoy the feel of Starsky’s unexpectedly silky skin. He kissed the nape of Starsky’s neck at the line where the dark curls ended. Starsky shuddered and slightly.
Hutch could feel his cock hardening. He continued to massage and kiss Starsky’s shoulder. Starsky reached up with his good arm and touched Hutch’s face. Hutch’s erection grew a little more and Starsky could feel it pushing against his butt.

“Hey buddy; are you looking for something down there?”

Hutch drew his breath sharply.

Starsky shifted his weight forward and Hutch found himself staring at his muscular back. The scars of an old injury on his shoulder seemed exaggerated by the heat of the water. Hutch kissed them.

Starsky looked over his shoulder. “I’m ready when you are.” He leaned forward and grabbed the faucets to steady himself. Hutch stared at the vision before him.

Starsky’s tight muscular buttocks were rising out of the water. He wriggled them seductively and giggled. “Well?”

Hutch slipped the sponge under the water to protect his kneecaps. He knelt behind Starsky and slid his arms around his wonderfully hairy chest; Hutch ran his hands along Starsky’s washboard-firm abdomen and pulled his partner back to him.

His penis began to search the rosebud between Starsky’s buttocks and pushed forward. Starsky moaned slightly and wriggled himself back against Hutch’s pelvis. A dew-drop formed on the tip of Hutch’s cock and he knew from experience that in a few seconds he would have enough moisture to lubricate his entry.

“Go on.”

Hutch pushed again and slipped into Starsky’s waiting ass. He was rewarded with a gasp.

He started to work his way deeper into Starsky and continued to caress the soft silky chest curls as he did. Starsky began to arch against him. Hutch plunged deeper and found his goal. His dick was throbbing as he pumped and Starsky writhed with pleasure. “Hutch, I’m coming…hang on in there.”

“Hutch felt his own orgasm begin to explode through his penis. He pushed one more and hit his target. Starsky gasped as he came and felt Hutch’s hot flood fill him at the same time.

They were locked together in ecstasy, rocking and moaning in perfect harmony. Hutch started to with draw and Starsky relaxed his grip on the faucets.

“How’s your shoulder?”

“What shoulder?”

“I guess it’s better then.”

“I guess it is.”

“Wanna go to bed?”

“Beats sleeping in the bath tub.”

They laughed and Hutch pulled the plug. They climbed out of the tub and watched the last nine inches of water and semen disappearing down the drain.

On the tenth day of Christmas my true love gave to me
Ten minutes in the shower
Nine bathtub inches
Eight scented candles
Seven silver handcuffs
Six hours of massage
Five gold cock rings
Four flavored condoms
Three big burritos
Two mars lights flashing
And a big kiss under the tree

Ten Minutes in the Shower

“Aw shit, aw shit, aw shit….”

Hutch sat in the locker room and listened to his partner cursing and swearing as he struggled out of his filthy clothes and dealt with the mess. Much to Hutch’s relief Starsky had toned it down from his original outbursts. They had been working together for years now but Starsky could still shock Hutch with the strings of obscenities he came out with when he was angry or frustrated; and today’s accident had provoked some of his worst outbursts.

“SHI-I-I-T!!!!!!!!!!!!!” Starsky’s anger filled the place.

A couple of other cops came into the locker room; they sniffed the foul air and looked at Hutch in disgust.

“Hey I didn’t…you don’t think….”

He didn’t need to say anything more; Starsky’s filthy windcheater flew out of the shower stall followed by a new stream of foul oaths.

Jenkins used his nightstick to lift the malodorous jacket. “What happened?”

Hutch shook his head slowly. “He fell.”

Starsky’s jeans and T-shirt came flying out – Parsons took the T-shirt full in the face. He made the mistake of breathing, screwed up his nose, gagged and ran to the toilets.

“Damn it. Shit!” Starsky’s anger was echoing round the locker room and more officers were arriving to hear the show.

Two Adidas trainers and a pair of socks sailed through the air. One of the cops kicked a shoe and stared at it. “I thought they were blue.” He said as he kicked the thing away holding his nose as he did.

“They are.” Hutch said carefully. At least, they are blue underneath all that stuff.”

“Yeech. What is this stuff anyway?”

“You want the official name?” Hutch grinned. “Officially it’s final product mud.”

“Final product what?”

“Aw shit.” Starsky’s anger was almost peaked out now. The sound of water rushing from the shower drowned out anything he might have to add.

Hutch grinned again. “Like the man said. He fell into it.”

“He fell into it?”

“Yes. We were chasing a couple of kids who tried to rip off his hubcaps while we were chatting with an informant over by the waste purification facility. Starsky took off after them like a bat out of hell. You know how fast he can be when he really needs to. So off he went and the kids went up to the facility and Starsky went after them. One of the kids turned around to taunt him and Starsky threw a tackle worthy of a Super Bowl final and the kid sidestepped; which was when I realized what the little mound the kid was standing near was hiding. Starsky flew…straight into it.”

“Phew!” Jenkins said. “It must have been hell in the car with him.”

“Well we had both cars with us so…”

“Lucky for you.”

“You said it.”

Hutch started to gather up Starsky’s disgusting clothes and shove them into a big plastic sack that he’d found in the janitor’s closet. He opened Starsky’s locker and took out the spare clothes that his partner kept in case of emergencies. This sure was an emergency.

Hutch sat and waited. He looked at the clock. Five minutes. Starsky was still cursing under the water. Hutch leaned back and closed his eyes. A vision of his filth-covered partner flashed through his mind. “There but for the grace of god, Hutchinson – for once you let him take off first,” he thought.

It seemed like hours; Hutch waited patiently.

Ten minutes later Starsky emerged; his skin was pink and glowing as if he had scrubbed himself clean; his curly hair was beginning to spring back from being plastered against his skull. He grabbed the towel that Hutch was holding and started to towel himself dry. He glowered and started to dress in the spare clothes. He looked into the bottom of the locker to find spare shoes. He leaned down to retrieve his spare footwear.

Hutch looked over to where Starsky was standing holding the only pair of shoes in his locker – patent leather dancing shoes!

“Aw shit!”

On the eleventh day of Christmas my true love gave to me
Eleven candy kisses
Ten minutes in the shower
Nine bathtub inches
Eight scented candles
Seven silver handcuffs
Six hours of massage
Five gold cock rings
Four flavored condoms
Three big burritos
Two Mars lights flashing
And a big kiss under the tree

Eleven Candy Kisses

“It’s like a treasure trail. Each time you find one you get a clue.”

Hutch looked at the note written in Starsky’s strange left-handed scrawl; he dropped the envelope onto the desk.

“Each time you find one.” He read aloud. “Each time I find what?”

He was about to throw the envelope away when a piece of red foil fluttered to the ground. Memories of childhood visits to the candy store with Amy came back to him.

As a child, Hutch had spent more time with Amy than with his own mother. Mom was too busy running toy drives for deprived children or one of her other good causes to notice the loneliness of her own little boy. But Amy, the housekeeper, saw it and understood. She took the child for treats. His favorite treat was a visit to the candy store; the outings had the thrill of a visit to a forbidden realm because his parents disapproved of him eating too many sweet things. His mother spoke of the danger that sugar would do to his teeth; his father only allowed candy when Ken deserved it…and in his opinion that was not very often. Little Ken had suffered the miseries of braces for years (although as Amy said, his teeth were straight enough); it was all part of the perfection thing. Hutch tried to shake it off but the traces were always there. It was his obsession with perfection – trying to please his demanding father’s standards; terrified of failing – that provoked his guilt trips. If ever something happened to Starsky, he blamed himself. His partner teased him gently about it. “Hey, was it your fault that I fell off my bike when I was ten?”

The piece of foil was wrapper from a Candy Kiss. He caught sight of the writing on the back of the message card. “I already ate the first one. S.xxx”

Hutch set off on is quest.

“You’re my White Knight; you know that, Blondie?” Starsky had said it when they finally got him to the hospital after he was shot in the Italian restaurant. Hutch had taken it to heart, of course; vowing to protect his buddy at all times.

OK Hutchinson; time for the White Knight to go search his Holy Grail.

Out in the corridor he noticed another candy wrapper and another note card. “I’m two up on you now. S.”

The third wrapper was on the passenger seat of his car. “Three. See you back at the apartment.”

At least Hutch knew where he had to look. He drove home wondering what Starsky might have in store for him. The Torino was nowhere in sight.

The fourth wrapper was stuck to the door handle. “Getting warmer.”

He opened the door.

Starsky had put something in the oven and Hutch sniffed the air. He smelled the tempting aromas of friend onions and garlic and browned meat. There was another wrapper on the counter. “I just ate one more. The rest are for you if you can find them. Don’t look in the oven, it needs to cook long and slow. S.”

Knowing Starsky, whatever was in the pot wasn’t the only thing likely to be cooking slowly that night.

Hutch noticed the candy by the couch.  He picked it up and read the note beside it. “This one’s fudge. I know your favorite flavors. S.” Hutch popped it in his mouth and savored the memory of Amy’s wonderful home-made fudge that was her Christmas treat for him. He looked around the silent apartment. Where is he?

Then he understood. He just had to follow the trail. He took off his jacket and holster and started to look for the next candy. The sixth candy was on the low table next to a glass of wine. “Cheers. Ready when you are. S” Hutch ate the candy and picked up the glass. He sipped as he scanned the room looking for the next clue. It took him a while, but then he spotted it on the floor, in front of the bedroom door. The note said “Knock before entering. S.”

Hutch knocked gently on the door. He heard a scuffling sound and then Starsky’s muffled voice called “Come on in lover.”

He opened the door. The room was bathed in the glow of candlelight. The eighth candy was on the pillow. “Get undressed. S.”

Munching the caramel centered candy, Hutch slipped into the bathroom to pee then returned to the bedroom and undressed; he was sure that Starsky was watching him and that gave him an extra thrill; when he turned to the bed again he noticed another candy on the pillow. “Turn the light out. S.”

Hutch lay on the bed and turned out the light.

“Have yourself a very merry Christmas…” Judy Garland’s voice filled the apartment.

The Christmas tree in the middle of the living room gave the only light; Starsky had dimmed all the lights while Hutch was in the bathroom. On silent bare feet, Starsky came into the bedroom. His eyes were already accustomed to the darkness and he stopped to look at his lover stretched out on the bed. He smiled and walked across the room. Hutch felt Starsky’s weight on the bed. He started to turn to his partner but Starsky touched him gently on the arm and said, “Sshhh, don’t move.”

Hutch lay still and waited. His heart was beating against his ribs and he felt as if it would burst out of its cage of Starsky didn’t make his move. Soft lips brushed his face. Starsky took his lower lip between his teeth and sucked gently. Hutch’s hormones started sending alarm signals to his crotch. Starsky ran his fingers down Hutch’s chest; playing his ribs like the keys of a piano. Hutch groaned. He opened his mouth to protest and Starsky popped the tenth candy into it. “Bite the bullet, babe.” He said softly.

Hutch chewed the candy and tried desperately not to think of what Starsky was going to do next. His spine seemed to go into spasm as Starsky started to gently knead and caress his balls. “Oh god, Starsky…I can’t hold on much more.”

“Sshh.”

Hutch was fully engorged now. His cock was standing to attention awaiting its master’s orders; and its master was far from ready to allow it to fire. Starsky ran his fingers along the underside of the little soldier. “My, my, we are excited.”

“Starsky…please…”

Starsky took Hutch into his mouth. He was sucking gently; exerting enough pressure to make Hutch scream in desperation. Starsky’s tongue played with the highly sensitive and over-stimulated tip of Hutch’s cock. He pulled of his usual trick of pushing back the foreskin with his tongue and licking the exposed tip. Hutch couldn’t hold it back any longer. His whole being was surging through his cock.

“Staaaarsk!” He came in a flood and Starsky withdrew his mouth in time to catch the full force in his hand. He raised his cupped hand to his lips and sipped. “Nectar, the drink of the gods.”

He held his hand to Hutch’s lips. Hutch took a little and grinned. “That’s the first time I’ve tasted my own cum.”

“There’s a first time for everything lover. Do you remember the first time you had a candy kiss?”

“Oh yes…I remember it was a strawberry cream.”

He heard a rustle of paper and Starsky lowered his face to meet Hutch’s upturned gaze.

He held the last candy between his lips into contact with Hutch’s mouth once again. Hutch started to take the candy and Starsky bit it in half as he did. He locked his mouth onto Hutch’s and they kissed a long, strawberry chocolate flavored kiss.

“Starsky?” Hutch opened his eyes to see that it was two a.m.

“Mmm?”

“Whatever you put in the oven; won’t it be burned?”

“No, it’s best cooked overnight.”

“Oh; long and slow. Just like you?”

“That’s right. Now go back to sleep or you won’ get any candy tomorrow.”

Hutch rolled over and dreamed sweet erotic dreams of the candy kisses he was going to give Starsky.

On the twelfth day of Christmas my true love gave to me
A great time under the tree
And if you want to know
What I gave him
You’ll just have to wait and see

And a Great Time Under the Tree

Hutch opened the door and was immediately struck by the sweet smell of Christmas that hung in the apartment. Starsky was standing at the stove stirring a pot and Hutch walked up behind him. He put his arms around Starsky’s waist and kissed the nape of his neck, nuzzling his nose in the soft curls.

“Smells good,” he said.

“Thank you.” Starsky went on stirring. “Why don’t you go and slip into something more comfortable then come back and relax.” Hutch noted that his partner was already dressed in sweatpants and a soft T-shirt that outlined his perfect torso. Hutch patted the firm round butt in front of him and said, “Be right back”.

Hutch stripped and showered and dressed in his dark green sweat-suit; he didn’t bother with a T-shirt and he left the zipper of the jacket undone. He walked back into the living room and admired the Christmas tree. He had to admit that Starsky decorated the tree better than he ever could. It was covered in red and gold balls and thick red and gold tinsel swathed it. Hutch looked up at the top of the tree and chuckled. Starsky strikes again. Instead of a star or an angel there were two action man dolls; one was wearing a tiny replica of Starsky’s Mexican sweater jacket and the other had a tan leather jacket, both wore jeans. They were locked in an embrace at the top of the tree.

“Sit down, I’m nearly ready,” Starsky called from the kitchen.

Hutch made himself comfortable on one of the big cushions that Starsky had arranged in front of the low table.

Starsky came into the room; he placed a tray with two wine glasses and a few plates of appetizers on the table. Hutch reached for a few potato chips and waited. Starsky returned with the pot that he’d been stirring and Hutch inhaled the sweet aroma of wine and nutmeg and oranges, cinnamon and cloves. Starsky ladled some of the mulled wine into each glass and returned the pot to the stove to stay warm.

Starsky settled on a cushion next to Hutch and clinked glasses. “Here’s to us, may our days be merry and bright…”

“Here’s to us.” Hutch sipped the warm wine and raised an eyebrow. “It’s good.”

Starsky sipped from his glass then twined his arm around Hutch’s forcing his lover to drink out of the other glass. “I always wanted to do that with you. But…”

“But what?”

“You’re such a klutz I thought I’d end up with wine all over my pants.”

Hutch sipped neatly from Starsky’s glass and looked up over the rim into the deep blue eyes. “You’d only have wanted me to lick it up.”

“Mmmmm.”

They continued to drink their wine and Starsky wandered into the kitchen to refill their glasses. The appetizers soon disappeared.

Starsky reached over and pulled Hutch towards him; he kissed him carefully.

Hutch put his glass on the table and took Starsky in his arms. He ran his hands up under the T-shirt and stroked Starsky’s chest hairs. Starsky leaned back onto his lap and purred like a contented cat.

Hutch could feel his cock hardening under Starsky’s perfect butt. He lifted the T-shirt and Starsky put up no resistance when Hutch drew it over his head and dropped it on the floor. He pulled Starsky back into his arms and enjoyed the feeling of his soft warm skin against his own bare chest.

Hutch kissed Starsky’s shoulder again and his lover turned slightly to look him in the eye.
His gaze said everything.

Hutch let his hands wander further down Starsky’s body and he slipped his fingers under the elastic of the waistband of his cotton sweatpants. Starsky wasn’t wearing underwear and Hutch felt the heat of his cock as he touched his lower curls. Starsky moaned and squirmed slightly. Hutch eased the sweatpants down Starsky’s legs and held his balls in his hands. He kneaded gently and was quickly rewarded by the sight of Starsky’s beautiful dark penis rising up to greet him. He stroked the underside with his finger and Starsky trembled slightly and moaned. Hutch kissed his neck again. Starsky shifted his weight slightly and Hutch knew that he was offering himself. Hutch struggled to release his own hardening cock from its cotton cage. Starsky remained quiet in his arms; submissive and warm.

“Aren’t you going to help me a little?” Hutch whispered hoarsely.

Starsky turned and rewarded him with a big lopsided smile. “No.”

Hutch started to stroke Starsky’s buttocks and work his hands towards the slit between them. He searched for something to provide a little lubrication and reached out to dip his finger in the remains of his wine. Starsky grabbed his wrist and took the finger into his mouth. He licked and sucked at Hutch’s finger in a perfect echo of his usual ministrations to Hutch’s cock. Hutch didn’t need anything else. He felt the first dewdrops of pre-cum escape from his throbbing cock. He withdrew his finger from Starsky’s mouth and gently inserted into the tight warm hole. Starsky wriggled his butt and sighed. “You can do better than that.”

Hutch withdrew his finger and pulled Starsky back down towards him. He parted Starsky’s strong muscular buttocks and eased his cock in to replace his finger. The finger had done the trick, relaxing Starsky’s tight anal sphincter enough for Hutch to enter without causing pain. He pushed gently and was rewarded with a backward thrust of Starsky’s pelvis. Hutch took Starsky’s cock in his hand and began to echo the rhythm of his puling cock. He stroked the exposed tip of Starsky penis with his finger and pressed the sensitive tip gently – like pressing a button – or pulling a trigger.

As his finger found Starsky’s, his own cock made contact with his prostate. Hutch pushed once more and felt his semen rushing up to fill Starsky with his love. As he fired on all barrels so did Starsky and Hutch’s hand was filled with the warm sticky liquid.

They rolled over together and the tree shuddered dangerously. Starsky smiled. “Good thing I didn’t put candles on it!”

Hutch licked his hand then held it out to his partner who bent his head to lap the cum from between his fingers.

“I love you Dave Starsky.”

“I love you Ken Hutchinson.”

“You know that song you like?”

“Which one?”

“Judy Garland….it kind of gets it right doesn’t it?”

Starsky grinned. “Oh what you mean that line about ‘make the Yuletide gay….’”

They rolled over in one another’s arms and locked lips again in a long, long kiss.

“Oh please Starsk, I can’t take it any longer.”

“Whaddaya say?”

“Well, these Christmas songs on the radio. You know I don’t like….”

“…Christmas, I know Hutch.”

“Then why are you bothering me?”

“Because I need to learn the songs.”

“Why?”

“Well, because I’m invited to the ball at the retirement home.”

“Do you feel you’re old and senile?”

“Meathead!”

“No seriously, what are you doing going to a seniors’ ball, Starsk?”

“Well, we’ll eat cake, sing Christmas songs and we’ll do handicrafts!”

“You’ll do handicrafts? I know all about Origami. Shall I teach you?”

“Stop being smutty, Hutch!”

“Huh? What do you mean? Origami is the noble art of paper folding, you philistine.”

“Oh, emmm… paper folding is called Origato?”

“Origami, Starsk, Origami!!!”

“Oh, well…can you also do other things?”

“You bet! Your partner has a few secrets in store.”

“Cool! I`ll take you with me, buddy, and now let’s get you learning the Christmas songs,” Starsky replied happily. “Come on, sing with me:
We wish you a Merry Christmas,
We wish you a Merry Christmas,
We wish you a Merry…”

Hutch sighed, rolling his eyes in feigned despair. “Wait until tonight and I`ll make you pay for this, buddy.”

“Can’t wait sweetheart,” Starsky purred, grinning broadly. “I hope that´s not an empty promise.”

Special thanks to Nicky Gabriel for the screen cap.

1. On the first day of Christmas Starsky helped me set all my inhibitions free.
2. On the second day of Christmas Starsky gave to me the courage to be me.
3. On the third day of Christmas Starsky showed me a new meaning for me and thee.
4. On the fourth day of Christmas Starsky raised my temperature by more than a few degrees.
5. On the fifth day of Christmas Starsky took me on a shopping spree.
6. On the sixth day of Christmas Starsky heard my unspoken plea.
7. On the seventh day of Christmas Starsky said he wanted it to be just him and me.
8. On the eighth day of Christmas Starsky told me he had to disagree, there was nobody he loved more than me.
9. On the ninth day of Christmas Starsky said everything he was he owed to me.
10. On the tenth day of Christmas Starsky gave me a kiss as we put up the tree.
11. On the eleventh Day of Christmas Starsky fulfilled a secret fantasy.
12. On the twelfth day of Christmas we finally made love underneath the Christmas tree.

Special thanks to Nicky Gabriel for the screen cap

December 24^th, 1983

“Hey.”

Starsky rustled the magazine he’d been reading, jolting Hutch out of his dogged surveillance of the warehouse down the street. He looked up at Starsky without saying anything, fully aware that Starsky would fill him in on whatever had suddenly struck his fancy at the current moment. It was bound to be far more interesting than the dull stake-out on Yaretzi Transport. Not that he was hoping for another shipment of heroin—Mexican brown or China white—just that any action would be better than sitting on his ass in a car for twelve hours straight.

“This article says that the twelve days of Christmas start on Christmas day.” Starsky poked a finger suspiciously at the page. “What kinda sense does that make? Isn’t Christmas done on the twenty-sixth of December?”

“The twelve days of Christmas mark the time between Christ’s birth and the season of Epiphany in the church calendar,” Hutch said, keeping one eye on the big concrete building at the end of the street.

“How do you know this stuff?” Starsky sat up straighter, his blue eyes alight with interest.

He reminded Hutch of a perky little puppy waiting for a treat, which made Hutch think of all sorts of other fun things he could give Starsky—like a kiss. Or something even more intimate…he shook his head to eliminate those thoughts when there was no possibility of following up on them.

“My grandfather was a pastor. The liturgical calendar is split up into seasons. Christmas is the second, with Advent before it and Epiphany afterward.”

“Epiphany, like…” Starsky assumed a radio announcer type voice. “Ah, ha, Newton had an epiphany and discovered gravity when an apple fell on his head.”

Hutch snorted a laugh. “Not really, Epiphany is when the three wise men came to see the Christ child. Twelve days after he was born.”

“Those wise guys took twelve days to get there?” Starsky put a finger to the side of his nose with a New Jersey accent. “Didn’t Vinnie the Geek and Sal drive ’em in their cah?”

“Wise guy,” Hutch said affectionately. “The three wise men came from far away to Bethlehem. Asia, India, places like that. It would have taken at least twelve days to get there riding on a camel.”

“Egypt,” Starsky said sagely. “That’s where they ride camels.”

“There must be camel riding in some of those other desert like countries, surely?” Hutch squinted, glad there was no movement at Yaretzi. “Uh—Tunisia?”

“Where Lucas filmed Star Wars.” Starsky brightened.

“I know the Wise men didn’t come from Tattooine!” Hutch chuckled, the absurd image of C3PO, R2D2 and Chewbacca carrying gifts across the sand dunes under the double moon of Luke Skywalker’s home world popping into his brain. “They came bearing gold, frankincense and myrrh for baby Jesus, and arrived twelve days after Christmas. My grandmother would make a special cake with a little trinket on it and we’d eat the cake after my grandfather got back from church.”

Starsky rolled up the magazine, his restless nature always in motion, and tapped the glossy paper tube on his knee. “Fun times up in the Great Lakes,” he said with exactly the right measure of sarcasm and fond amusement.

“Hey!” Hutch grabbed the rolled magazine and bopped Starsky on the head. “We thought it was fun! When I was really small, Grandmother would give me a little crown and I was king for a day.”

“Sadist!” Starsky made a grab for the now fluttering pages of People and his hand landed smack in Hutch’s lap. “I’d crown you any ol’ day.” He backhanded the magazine away, and took a good handful of Hutchinson.

Damn that felt good! Hutch gasped, squirming under the assault, his cock filling instantly. What if someone walked by the car and saw them? “Starsky, not here!”

“Where, then?” Starsky challenged with a naughty gleam in his eye. “And when?”

Hutch considered the question, idly watching the imposing structure across the street. Nothing happened over there. Starsky bounced his knee restlessly, humming some vaguely Christmas tune.

“Tomorrow,” Hutch told him.

“Tomorrow—but that’s twenty-four hours from now!” Starsky groaned, his dark blue eyes wide.

“If you want to wait that long…” Hutch shrugged as if it made no difference to him. Starsky was so easy to play. “However, it is nearly dark already, and tomorrow is…”

“One minute after twelve, it’s December twenty-fifth.” Starsky grinned, poking Hutch on the chest with his forefinger. “Right after we get off from work.”

“What do you have in mind?” Hutch asked, making an obvious show of adjusting his crotch.

Starsky watched with the avid interest of a bird of prey, even smacking his lips when Hutch sat up straighter. “I think you get the basic premise,” he said. “But I got…conditions here to make things interesting.”

“What?” Hutch asked, suddenly wary. Between the two of them, they’d come up with a few dares that had gotten overly competitive, even dangerous on occasion.

“Nothing that will have you dressed up like an old geezer selling pencils,” Starsky smirked. “Just that there are twelve days of Christmas, huh? Starting tomorrow and ending…?” He waggled his fingers as if counting silently.

“January fifth,” Hutch supplied.

“So, we each take six days. I’ll start.” Starsky hummed a much more recognizable tune this time, launching into the words, “A partridge in a pear tree!”

“You want me—both of us to act out the words of the song?” Hutch asked in astonishment.

“My true love gave to me…” Starsky rolled his hand, indicating the rest of the verse.

“Starsk.” Hutch belatedly remembered he was supposed to be watching Yaretzi Transport, and turned to stare at the building. “You’re crazy.”

December 24-25, 1983

Starsky beat Hutch back to the house, glad they’d taken two cars that night since Hutch didn’t approve of using the Torino as a stake-out vehicle. He dashed into their condo, going straight for his record collection. It was five minutes to midnight. Ever since he’d proposed they bring the Twelve Days of Christmas song to life, he’d been wracking his brain for ideas. He had days one, three, five, seven, nine and eleven. He’d always relished challenges, and this one was a doozy.

He grinned in triumph, finding the record that Molly had left in October when she came over to watch the World Series with him. He placed the licorice disc on the turntable and scurried into the kitchen to find what he needed.

Hearing Hutch coming up the stairs, Starsky raced back to the turntable, tucking the fruit he’d grabbed into the branches of the Ficus. As Hutch came through the door, Starsky placed the needle on the correct groove.

“I think I love you!” Keith Partridge warbled.

Hutch looked half startled, half delighted, his eyes going from the pear in the tree to Starsky.

“Do you think you love me? I think I love you…!” Partridge sang along with his faux family.

Hutch grabbed Starsky around the waist, kissing him with joy. “I’ll even listen to the rest of that fucking album to get you into bed right now.”

Starsky laughed, pulling Hutch into the next room. Their clothes littered the floor from the record player to the mattress.

“Can you top that?” Starsky whispered, rocking his pelvis, and thick erection, up against Hutch’s equally swollen cock.

“Doesn’t matter at this moment,” Hutch said, cupping Starsky’s ass. He rubbed hard, increasing the friction with finesse.

Starsky gasped, his whole body tingling, his balls tightening in anticipation of the climax. To the Partridges’ harmonics, he and Hutch orgasmed as one.

December 25-26, 1983

Because Starsky presented his gift in the first moments of December twenty-fifth, Hutch had the whole night and day to think up how to give two turtle doves. Between getting up late after an athletic night, lazing around all day opening the few presents under their tree, dinner with the Dobeys and then drinks at the Pits with Huggy at nine p.m., Hutch realized he knew exactly what to do.

“When do I get my present tomorrow?” Starsky asked when they were driving home from the Pits, both just a little tipsy from Huggy’s homemade holiday cheer, a mulled wine with lots of spices.

“Oh, you think I already have something?” Hutch smiled slyly. “When did I possibly have time to go shopping on Christmas day? You were with me every moment.”

“Because you have that look in those pretty blue eyes,” Starsky said laughing, leaning over to kiss him on the cheek.

“After lunch, then,” Hutch told him, wishing he could return the kiss—but that would have to wait until they got home.

They had to be at Metro by seven a.m., and found out that the bust on Yaretzi Transport had occurred on Christmas day: the drug dealers apparently assuming that there would be no police presence on the holiday. Hutch grinned when Dobey announced the arrest. He and Starsky wouldn’t have to sit unmoving all day in the car.

After an uneventful morning cruising their beat, Hutch drove to a little shopping area for their noonday meal. In the middle of the block was a very pricey bakery. Under normal circumstances, Hutch would never have gone into the place—twenty bucks for a cake always seemed highly extravagant to him. But for his true love…

“Turtledove’s!” Starsky pointed to the sign with a huge grin. “I’ve heard their cookies are fantastic!”

“According to the song, I’m giving you two,” Hutch said with a wink.

He followed Starsky into the bakery, inhaling the enticing scent of baked goods. Hell, he might just indulge in a few Christmas confections himself. “What do you want?”

“Saw them first off,” Starsky said, leaning in to whisper, “true love,” in Hutch’s ear. He pointed to a plate of ball shaped cookies dusted with powdered sugar. “Two Mexican Wedding Cakes—one for me and one for you.”

“This is turning out to be more fun than I expected,” Hutch said as the salesgirl handed over the sweets. Well aware that he hadn’t always gotten his partner a gift that Starsky really wanted, Hutch was thrilled at how successful he’d been on the first try.

December 27, 1983

Starsky woke up before Hutch on the twenty-seventh and lay watching his lover sleep. It was barely past dawn, long golden streaks of early sun piercing the gap in the curtains to play with the blond strands of Hutch’s hair.

He still had to figure out how to arrange for three French hens. While Hutch would probably adore owning laying chickens–fresh eggs every morning–Starsky doubted that would be practical when they were living in a second floor condo. Had to be something that didn’t need tending or feeding.

“Morning,” Hutch muttered, scrubbing his face to wake up. He smiled, looking straight down at Starsky’s groin. “What do we have here?”

“You want to open something now?” Starsky turned onto his side, displaying his prominent morning woody which was topped by the bow that held his pajama bottoms in place. He liked to sleep in as little as possible, but in December, it was cold enough at night that he gave in to the warmth of flannel pajamas.

“I can’t imagine you are hiding any chickens in here, French or otherwise.” Hutch tugged at the knot.

“I always knew that college degree was going to pay off someday.” Starsky winked, arching his pelvis forward when Hutch wrapped one hand around his cock. Reaching forward, Starsky blindly slipped his fingers into the slit of Hutch’s flannel pants and pulled out Hutch’s cock. It felt so warm, solid and yet sweetly soft, pulsing against his palm.

Hutch pumped Starsky hard, just the way he liked it, the friction igniting his nerves, sending arousal through his skin.

They stroked in unison, Starsky sensing Hutch’s needs through the pads of his fingers. He played his partner’s length like a musical instrument until Hutch sucked in air, shuddering his release.

Laughing with delight, Starsky tumbled over into his own orgasm.

They were slightly late getting to Metro, but neither of them cared.

Starsky was leafing through the phone book to look up a listing for Poole’s Pool Service, a business the BCPD suspected of being a front for male prostitution when he saw the words Poulet Français. Starsky’s French was non-existent but he recognized the restaurant name. He and Hutch had driven by many a time without ever going in.

There were three little chickens painted on the sign over the front door. Chickens wearing French berets on their white heads.

Perfect!

When he escorted Hutch to the restaurant that evening, Hutch laughed at the cute French hens and kissed Starsky hard. Right there in front of the restaurant. Starsky didn’t care how much the bill would cost—that public declaration of love meant more to him than a fifty dollar bottle of Napa Valley wine and two servings of Coq au vin.

December 28, 1983

Hutch didn’t have to think very long to come up with four calling birds—the gift was obvious. When Starsky had moved to Bay City at the age of thirteen to live with Uncle Al and Aunt Rose, he’d entered a houseful of girl cousins. They’d eagerly welcomed a boy into the nest without reservations, surrounding him with love. It was the work of a few minutes to get in touch with the oldest cousin and arrange everything.

The phone rang as Hutch was unlocking the front door after a day sitting in court to testify against a drug dealer he and Starsky had arrested earlier in the month. “Starsk!” Hutch said urgently. “Answer the phone while I warm up the Chinese food.”

“Why me?” Starsky asked testily. He’d been out of sorts all day, but the annoyance on his face transformed to happiness the minute he heard the voice on the other end of the line. “Robin! What a terrific surprise! Aunt Rose said you and Mike wouldn’t call until you got moved into your new place in Tokyo…”

Hutch hung back, watching Starsky chat with the cousin closest to his own age. The silly dare to act out the words of the twelve days of Christmas song was turning into something very meaningful and strong. There was nothing he wanted more than to be with his love, and make him happy.

Starsky hung up the phone with a grin, but it rang again before he could even move his hand away. “Grand central station here tonight.” He laughed, grabbing one of the egg rolls Hutch brought in before picking up the receiver again.

Hutch munched his own egg roll, glancing over at the photograph on the wall that had inspired him: David Starsky surrounded by the four Starsky sisters, Robin, Lark, Wren and Paloma—all as curly haired as he was.

Hutch knew the twins, Lark and Wren, wouldn’t talk long because they had to hurry off to their winter job as dancers with the Rockettes.

“That was…” Starsky pointed at Hutch, obviously realizing that Hutch had conspired with the girls to have them all call on the same night. The phone rang once more. “I’m never going to get any cashew chicken, am I?” Starsky asked rhetorically, saying, “Hey, Paloma,” before she even got in a hello.

Hutch heaped Chinese food on a plate for Starsky, listening in on Starsky’s questions about Paloma’s grad school thesis on children with cerebral palsy, and her love of Harvard medical school. It occurred to him that he’d never cared whether his ex-wife was simply happy with life. Probably because little had ever satisfied Van, certainly not their marriage. But he wanted Starsky to be happy—independent of their bliss with one another, because it gave him enormous pleasure to see Starsky smile.

“We’re all so far flung, especially since Robin moved to Japan,” Starsky said softly, hanging up the phone for the third time. “Never expected that, but I’m really glad you got us to reconnect, especially with my ma dead, their parents gone, and Nick…”

“Can’t change Nick.”

“No.” Starsky shrugged, the melancholia only slightly modifying his smile. “Thanks, Hutch. That was a real treat.” He chuckled, “And I never saw it coming. Four calling birds…”

“Do I get five golden rings next?” Hutch asked, wiggling his fingers under Starsky’s nose.

December 29, 1983

The Olympics was coming to Los Angeles in July. Ever person in the entire LA basin—not to mention, the world– must be aware of the fact. There were billboards up all over the area and merchandise festooned with the new logo; speedy looking red, white and blue stars above the more traditional Olympics symbol.

Starsky had bought a T-shirt and cap the first time he’d seen the souvenir clothing, even though the games were six months away. He’d planned to surprise Hutch when the tickets went on sale and include the clothing to make a day of watching the bike races or swimming complete.

Didn’t mean he couldn’t give some of that a little early. He wrapped the shirt emblazoned with 1984 Summer Olympics in a box, adding an IOU for tickets to the event of Hutch’s choice, and tucked it under the seat of the Torino before they left for work.

He and Hutch were called to a liquor store by a shotgun wielding owner holding two stupid-ass boys at bay. The would-be robbers had tried to grab what was in the till but were clearly too stoned to recognize a bad plan when they saw one.

“You have the right to remain silent…” Starsky started and burst into laughter when he realized he was speaking in time to the tune playing over the liquor store speakers: Twelve days of Christmas.

The puckered faced store owner gave him a sour look and Hutch took over the recitation of the Miranda rights so smoothly there wasn’t more than a pause in the flow.

“Thanks, Mr. Lee,” Starsky said after he’d composed himself. “Might change your playlist, it’s almost the new year.”

“New year not until end of January,” Lee snarled as Hutch led the recalcitrant thieves out the door. “Year of the Rat can’t come soon enough.”

“Auld lang syne to you, too,” Starsky muttered.

He waited until they’d booked Huey and Dewey and were back in the Torino again. “On the fifth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me…” Starsky warbled, looking straight into Hutch’s bright blue eyes. “Look under your seat right now.”

“I thought I felt something bumping the back of my ankle.” Hutch bent over and pulled the box out. He examined the t-shirt sized parcel, raising his eyebrows. “Far too big to be a jeweler’s box.” He carefully peeled the tape up, folding back the edges of the wrapping paper.

“Do you do that to torture me?” Starsky moaned. “Rip it off!”

“You do it your way, I do it mine.” Hutch had already lifted off the lid and was smiling at the contents. “Perfect, Starsk, really perfect. These are exactly the five rings I would wear.”

December 30, 1983

Hutch was beginning to feel the pressure—they’d both given each other really wonderful, heartfelt gifts—and played fast and loose with the words to the song. But how was he supposed to present Starsky with six geese a-laying?

He thought about searching a gourmet shop for goose eggs, but once cooked, how different would they be from regular chicken eggs? What else did goose egg bring to mind?

A bump on the back on the head, but Hutch wasn’t about to wallop his true love with a baseball bat for lyric verisimilitude, no matter how annoying Starsky could be once in a while. While he wanted to keep the spirit of competition alive, he didn’t want to make this a game of one-upmanship. He and Starsky had gotten past that in their relationship.

All through the morning he kept flashing on an image of a flock of geese perched on nests—where? It was an infuriating half-memory, illusive and confusing. Was he just fixated on geese in general?

“Hutch,” Starsky said loudly. From the tone of his voice, it wasn’t the first time he’d tried to get Hutch’s attention.

“Huh?” Hutch shook himself out of his daze.

“You need some black staff molasses or vitamin E?” Starsky turned the steering wheel of the Torino in a lazy arc, going left onto Broadway to complete the sweep of their patrol area. “You’ve been zoning out all day.”

“Black strap…” Hutch corrected, surveying his side of the street like a good detective, which he hadn’t been when he was daydreaming. “It’s full of minerals like iron, potassium and…the liquor store!” he yelled so loudly that Starsky stomped on the brakes.

“What the hell?” Starsky cried, the cars behind him all honking their horns. “We’ve got beer—and several bottles of wine at home.”

“Uh, no—” Hutch scrambled mentally to come up with a reasonable motive for shouting. Passing Lee’s Liquors for the second time in two days had cleared his memory. Goose Egg was the name of a local brewery. They’d put out a holiday ale, which had been featured next to the cash register when he and Starsky arrested Huey and Dewey. “I was just wondering how Mr. Lee was doing after the robbery.”

“Just like you to check up on the victim,” Starsky said indulgently, nosing the Torino into a parking place a few yards away. “You gonna slip him a twenty?”

“I need to buy something,” Hutch explained, trying to go for huffy so Starsky wouldn’t guess why he needed to go to a liquor store in the middle of the day. “Never you mind!”

“Oh.” Starsky grinned impishly. “I’ll call us out for lunch and wander over to the diner across the street while you do some shopping?”

Getting out of the car, Hutch laughed in spite of himself. Starsky understood him far too well. “Yes, that would be perfect. Order me a…”

Starsky put his fingers to his forehead as if reading his mind. “Tuna melt on wheat, iced tea and…side salad.”

“Don’t let success go to your head,” Hutch said, pointing a steady finger at him. God, he loved that man.

“See you in five.” Starsky winked rakishly, heading across the street to Broadway Buns.

Hutch was actually glad that Mrs. Lee, who didn’t speak much English, was working the till instead of her husband so he didn’t have to make chit-chat. He was in and out of the liquor store and over to the diner in less than Starsky’s estimated five minutes.

He plunked down next to Starsky in a back booth and placed the six pack of Goose Egg into his lap.

“Hey!” Starsky slid a bottle out of the cardboard carrying pack, examining the label. “Laying in the supplies for New Year’s eve?” His eyes twinkled with merriment, and he pitched his voice below the ambient noise in the diner. “I’d kiss you right now if we were at home.”

“I’ll take a rain check,” Hutch promised.

December 31, 1983

Starsky and Hutch lucked out and got New Year’s Eve off. Although the Pits always had a wild bash, complete with streamers, noise makers and kisses at midnight, they decided a night in would be far more cozy. They’d partied with Huggy and the Dobeys on Christmas; this was just for them.

Opening the TV guide to plan his football watching for the next two days, Starsky saw a listing that solved the problem of how to give Hutch seven swans. In fact, chances were, there were actually more than seven swans involved. And it was absolutely free. While he had no qualms about spending a load of cash on his true love, the Poulet Français meal had set him back a pretty penny.

At five-thirty p.m., Hutch stretched after his afternoon nap. “I’ll go pick up the steamed crab and sourdough bread we ordered from Lococco’s for dinner,” he said. “Do you want anything else?”

“Nope.” Starsky glanced up from a recap of the Peach Bowl: Florida State had won against North Carolina. “We got the beer you bought yesterday and the French bubbly your mom sent from her trip to Champagne.”

“Not to mention the chocolate she bought in Belgium.” Hutch chuckled. “I know which one you want more.”

“European chocolate is far superior to the American stuff,” Starsky said loftily, waving his fingers over the top of the couch. “I’ll be waiting for you, sailor!”

When Hutch got back, the scent of sourdough and freshly cooked crab wafted through the house the minute he shut the door. Starsky turned up the sound on the TV; Swan Lake was just starting. As Hutch put the food on the table, Tchaikovsky’s magnificent score began to play.

“Swan Lake?” Hutch turned, looking at the TV as robed trumpeters played a fanfare and a young prince leapt onto the stage, his dancing both powerfully athletic and light as a feather. “Mikhail Baryshnikov,” Hutch identified, joy lighting his face. “Is this the collaboration between the American Ballet Theater and the Moscow Ballet from last summer?”

Hutch’s enthusiasm warmed Starsky down to his toes. “Babe, I know how much you wanted to see Anna Akhanatova dance again–”

“The price of those tickets were way out of our league,” Hutch said, sitting on the couch to stare at the screen as if he was going to forego eating until he got a glimpse of his favorite ballerina. “Not to mention the flight to New York for only a couple days. Starsky, this is fantastic!”

“Do I get any kind of reward?” Starsky asked flirtatiously to distract Hutch away from the dancers.

Hutch hugged Starsky from the side, planting a kiss on the corner of his mouth. Starsky had to tilt his head to get a second one in the correct place, but Hutch’s eyes were riveted to the TV for Akhanatova’s first entrance.

Giving it up as a lost cause, at least until the swans pirouetted out, Starsky cracked the crab. He understood Hutch’s obsession—it wasn’t just his love of ballet, but the memories of his brief affair with the prima ballerina, Anna. They’d both had women throughout their lives that ‘could have been the one.‘ Starsky had always suspected that if Hutch and Anna had had more time to get to know each other, there might have been a lasting connection. As it was, the time had been so fleeting that no one would ever know for sure. Starsky held no jealousy to the beautiful ballet dancer, just as he knew Hutch didn’t resent his fond memories of Terry or Rosey.

Those women were their past—but they were forging a future as a couple. Just owning this condo together and sleeping in the same bed every night was special. Even what had started out as a silly competition had turned into an incredibly meaningful way to show his love to his partner.

Starsky blinked away the moisture in his eyes, silently chastising his oversentimentality. He was getting to be an old softy, just like the blond guy mesmerized by the artistry on the television.

Starsky tossed salad and divided it into two bowls, eating a slice of still warm sourdough as he worked. He popped the caps off two Goose Egg ales. Placing a plate of crab on Hutch’s lap, Starsky ruffled his hair affectionately, but Hutch only murmured an absent thanks.

Sitting back to eat his meal, Starsky watched his lover watching ballet. Nothing better.

Swan Lake was over at eight-thirty. Good thing, because Hutch was in a very amorous mood by then. Starsky performed a sexy little dance that had none of the technique of a trained ballet dancer, but got Hutch’s full and undivided attention.

Flipping the Olympics t-shirt he’d given Hutch but had worn all day over his head, Starsky sashayed across the living room to get the champagne. He wiggled his hips, made a little teasing kick with his left leg and danced the bottle back to the coffee table. Hutch had the glasses ready.

Starsky unzipped his jeans, leaving them on but open in an invitation to his lover.

Hutch laughed, unbuttoning his flannel shirt. He was wearing a white t-shirt underneath, but that was simply a challenge to Starsky.

“Ready for some bubbly, Mr. Howell?” Starsky twisted the wire cage off the cork and pushed both thumbs under the bulbous top.

“Starsk…” Hutch stood up warily, staring at the bottle pointing directly at him. “You wouldn’t…”

“Time to get naked, babe!” Starsky warned. “This is gonna blow!” He pushed the cork—just a little—and the warm, carbonated wine burst out, showering Hutch.

“That was low!” Hutch growled, drenched. He threw off his wet clothes.

Exactly what Starsky had wanted all along. Starsky tackled him onto the floor, laughing and trying to get at all the parts of Hutchinson anatomy that had been splashed with sparkling wine.

Hutch kissed him hard on the lips, sucking Starsky’s tongue into his mouth and scraping his teeth against Starsky’s. Arms around each other, they lay in the nest of scattered clothing, engrossed in rediscovering erogenous zones.

Starsky licked the curve of Hutch’s throat, sure he could taste a hint of wine, and latched on, instantly raising a hickey.

“How could you waste champagne my mother sent from…” Hutch murmured into his ear, grinding his erection into Starsky’s groin.

“Was cheap…” Starsky lost all ability to speak for a while as his cock sparked against Hutch’s. Purple and green fireworks exploded on his retinas when he squeezed his eyes shut. He couldn’t breathe, his whole being trembling.

When Hutch pushed a finger back along Starsky’s perineum and then circled his puckered anus, Starsky climaxed. Panting, he relished the incredible high, very aware that Hutch hadn’t come yet. Fighting fatigue, Starsky turned on his side, scooting down until he was level with his lover’s thick cock.

“The bottle your mother sent is on ice; that was a bottle of plonk.” He looked up into Hutch’s gorgeous blue eyes. “Fooled you though, didn’t I?”

Hutch grabbed a handful of Starsky’s curls, pulling gently. “You wish. I got some in my mouth–and can taste the difference between grapes grown in France and some blend of table grapes grown in Fresno.”

“I’ve got you in my mouth,” Starsky slurped Hutch’s length in, humming Twelve Days of Christmas while he cupped Hutch’s tight scrotum in his left hand.

Hutch came, and came, and came.

January 1, 1984

Nursing a slight hangover from polishing off three ales and two glasses of imported champagne by the time the clock struck twelve to usher in 1984, Hutch watched the Rosebowl parade with his feet cushioned on the Bay City Times. Starsky curled at his side, finishing the last of his cheese omelet.

Hutch had always intended to get over to Pasadena, a barely thirty minute drive away, some year to see the parade in person. Except that half the population of Southern California seemed to be camped out from the middle of the night to get a good place on the main parade route. That was not how Hutch ever wanted to spend his New Year’s Eve.

“I’m always amazed they can make those floats completely out of flowers,” Starsky said. “Look at that one about Africa—the apes are made from coconut hair.”

“I know.” Hutch pointed at the TV. “That’s what the commentator just said.” Slightly irritated that Starsky was repeating what he could hear for himself, Hutch reached for the phone on the side table just as it rang.

“Happy New Year, Edith.” Hutch easily identified her voice despite a throaty rasp. “How are you—”

“Ken, I have a request, and I know it’s a big one but…” Edith sneezed violently three times in a row.

Hutch could hear her blowing her nose before she could speak again. “You sound like you have the same flu the captain had the other day. What can we do for you?”

As Edith related her dilemma, Hutch began to grin, greatly relieved. In one fell swoop, the day had fallen into place—and so had his gift. He promised Edith that he and Starsky would help out and hung up. “Dobey’s still under the weather, Cal is sick, and now Edith’s caught the bug, too.”

Starsky had gotten up during a commercial to go into the bathroom. He came out brushing his teeth. “What about little Rosie? Dobey was hacking and sneezing all over the squadroom,” Starsky mumbled around a mouthful of toothpaste. He reversed course to spit into the sink and rinse his mouth out.

“Which is exactly why I gave you the extra vitamin C.” Hutch nodded. “Anyway, since we had nothing planned today until working night shift…”

“I was kinda thinking about making out with my true love and waiting for those maids a-milking,” Starsky said with a pout.

“We can make out another time.” Hutch leveled his forefinger at Starsky’s naked chest, sighing inwardly. The sacrifices he made to complete the holiday dare. He’d have preferred making love all afternoon, too.  “Get dressed. We’re shepherding Rosie’s Camp Fire girls troop to Maiden Fresh dairy.”

“A dairy?” Starsky repeated, pulling the red shawl collared sweater they both shared over his head. “Oh, eight maids a-milking. You’re sneaky, Hutchinson.” He thumped Hutch on the arm, hard enough that it hurt, just a little. “Did you plan this?”

“No, honestly,” Hutch said over his shoulder, going to the kitchen to pour a cup of coffee. He’d need a lot of caffeine to keep up with Rosie and seven other fourteen year old girls. “I was glad to help Edith, above and beyond the fact that it solved what to get you on the eighth day.”

Starsky put his arms around Hutch from behind and kissed his ear. “You’ll always be the cream in my coffee, milkman.”

January 2, 1984

Starsky stared out the window of the Torino, waiting for Hutch to dole out a couple of twenties to the homeless men huddled around a fire in a trashcan under the freeway overpass. He’d had many ways to go with ladies dancing. He’d already used ballet dancers, so that was out. And much as he liked going to a disco, that had seemed a little obvious. Besides, even if he and Hutch phoned every old girlfriend still in their address books after five years, that wouldn’t add up to nine.

In the end, he’d come up with a brilliant gift, if he said so himself. Once again, a little pricey, but Hutch was more than worth it. It wasn’t as if Starsky would hate where they were headed. He was going to love every minute of the show.

“Come on, blondie,” Starsky called as Hutch waved goodbye to a grizzled old guy with a patch over one eye. “Get a move on, we haven’t got all day.”

“Where exactly are we going?” Hutch asked, climbing into the car and laying one of his wind chilled hands on Starsky’s cheek.

“You’re freezing!” Starsky shuddered, driving on to the freeway. “Crank up the heat. We’ve got tickets and we need to get to the court on time.”

“Let’s see—nine ladies dancing,” Hutch trilled in tune. “At a court. Couldn’t be something legal since the courts are closed today because Sunday was a holiday.” He looked speculatively at Starsky and then through the windshield at an enormous structure looming in the distance. “Starsk! You got tickets to a Laker’s game?”

“With nine Laker girls dancing at half time, including that cutie on Huggy’s calendar, Paula Abdul.” Starsky nodded proudly.

The kiss Hutch planted on his cheek heated him up far faster than the old Torino heater.

The Lakers lost to the New York Knicks, but neither Starsky nor Hutch cared a bit. They sat in the bleachers cheering on the home team, and if their hands clasped now and again while everyone else was focused on the game, that was no one’s business but their own.

The half-time show, featuring the fanny wiggling, high stepping cheerleaders decked out in glittery yellow and purple mini-skirts was the highlight of the afternoon. Starsky’s adoration of his blond prince didn’t stop him from admiring the bouncing breasts of a line of gorgeous women dancing to Flashdance.

January 3, 1984

Hutch didn’t like Christmas shopping at all. Even after many wonderful holidays celebrated with Starsky, he still would prefer to have his wisdom teeth pulled again rather than wade into the fray of frantic shoppers. On the other hand, a wander through a bookstore in the new year was another thing entirely. Holiday wrapping paper was on sale—which was exactly what Starsky had come into the store to buy—and so were the calendars.

He skipped over glossy calendars featuring adorable kittens, Edward Gorey pen and ink drawings of small children dying in oddly funny ways, photos from Return of the Jedi and Octopussy, looking for a plain day-to-day planner. Didn’t seem like there was anything with a leather cover and large pages like his father used to have. With a sigh, Hutch was about to go ask a Waldenbooks employee when he spotted a calendar with Princess Diana on the cover. He had a secret crush on Prince Charles’ wife, but he didn’t want Starsky to know. He’d never hear the end of it.

Flipping up the cover, Hutch checked out the pictures for each month. The calendar actually featured more than just the popular princess; there were pictures of other royals and aristocracy. He laughed out loud when he saw the image for March—Starsky’s birth month–and bought the calendar immediately.

“What’d you get?” Starsky asked when they arrived home. He opened his shopping bags, unloading his bargain wrapping paper, ribbon and a pair of boxers with Santa on the front.

“You won’t be allowed in bed if you wear those!” Hutch declared, folding the bag around the calendar as impromptu wrapping paper. “It’s for you.”

“Hey.” Starsky grinned, mischievous glee glinting in his eyes. “You’re forgiven for mocking my shorts.” He felt around the edges of the gift. “From the shape, it’s either an LP or a calendar, and probably has something to do with leapin’ lords.”

“Gloriosky, leaping lizards, Little Orphan Annie,” Hutch deadpanned.

Starsky tossed the bag aside, holding up the cover with Diana accepting flowers from a pink cheeked British child. “Dear Ann Landers, on the tenth day of Christmas, my true love gave me a picture of his English girlfriend. Should I be worried?”

“She’s not my girlfriend!” Hutch grabbed the calendar out of his hands.

“Oh, who insisted we watch the wedding in the middle of the night?” Starsky rolled his eyes, pointing to the picture for February as Hutch flipped the pages. Diana was wearing a diamond and pearl tiara, beaming at the camera. He picked up the new wrapping paper to stow it in the closet.

“We were in the squadroom anyway.” Hutch glared at Starsky, horrified that he’d guessed his secret.

“We don’t usually watch TV while going through arrest warrants.” Starsky laughed. “I’ve seen you reading People magazine with Diana’s pictures in the grocery line. Give me that back. I want to find the…”

“Ten Lords a-Leaping!” Hutch held up the picture of polo team made up of entirely of young British aristocracy jumping into the air after their victory.

“Jolly good show, Sir Kenneth,” Starsky intoned, pretending to knight him with a long roll of red and green holly paper. He leaned in for a kiss, dropping the wrapping paper on the rug.

Hutch let go of the calendar in favor of holding his lover in his arms, curving his hands over Starsky’s round butt. The kiss they shared was long and extremely satisfying.

“Does that mean I have to look at Diana on every other month?” Starsky pointed down at the calendar splayed out on the floor with July face up. Diana was waving from the balcony of Buckingham Palace with Charles on one side and the Queen on the other.

“Cultural détente, Starsk,” Hutch said, capturing his partner’s mouth for another kiss. “After all, you got Paula Abdul’s autograph yesterday.”

January 4, 1984

“How many plumbers is this gonna take?” Starsky asked, not expecting an answer. He perched on the bumper of the Torino, watching a squadron of men tromping into Metro.

The temperature had gone below freezing during the night, causing the pipes in the building to burst. The staff on hand had to be evacuated and most of the employees of the police department were standing around in the parking lot with resigned expressions.

“This probably wouldn’t have been so bad in Minnesota,” Hutch commented, chewing on a bagel for his breakfast. “They’re used to freezing weather there.”

“It’s colder’n a witch’s tit out here,” Starsky complained, shoving his gloved hands under his armpits. “And we’ve been out all night long, what’er we gonna do?” He knew bitching about it wasn’t going to help but he was exhausted after a night investigating a fatal shooting between two drunks, and just wanted to file his report and go home to snuggle in bed with Hutch. Under a nice warm duvet.

“Wait until the plumbers give us the all clear.” Hutch shrugged, apparently impervious to the chill.

Dobey hurried over, his breath puffing in white clouds like a steam engine. “That makes eleven pipeworkers inside, to deal with the pipes.”

Had he heard what he thought he heard? Starsky started to giggle and looked over at Hutch. Hutch’s eyebrows were hovering near his bangs and he snorted under his breath as if he was trying not to laugh.

That made Starsky giggle more, much to Dobey’s obvious consternation.

“What are you two laughing about?” he bellowed. “This is serious stuff here, the flood could have damaged important evidence and arrest paperwork, setting back cases already in the courts as a result!” He shook his head at their foolishness and marched off, his breath clouds floating over his head.

“No fair, Starsk,” Hutch said, wiping his eyes from laughing so hard. “You didn’t have to do a thing to get this one.”

“I had to sit out in the cold, freezing my fanny off!” Starsky pointed out. “And only got half a bagel for breakfast because you ate the rest.” Hutch did not look at all guilty about that. “Besides, you didn’t have to think up taking the girls to the dairy.”

“Hey, you liked that place,” Hutch countered. “I saw you guzzle two containers of chocolate milk.”

“Lizzie Diamond was lactose intolerant.” Starsky shrugged. “She couldn’t drink hers.” He hunched his shoulders, shifting his butt on the back of the car. The metal still held enough heat to give him a little warmth. “The girls sure looked adorable milking the cows.”

“You know,” Hutch said, turning his head to watch a pair of cops get into their cruiser to drive out. “When you started this, I thought this was another one of your cockamamie ideas, but this has been really fun.”

“Makes me think about you all the time,” Starsky said softly, his heart full to overflowing. “Not just getting something that is mentioned in the song, but something maybe that’ll be fun to share together or…just that you’d like.”

“We should do this next year.” Hutch patted Starsky’s hand, squeezing just once.

“We’re not even finished, you have one more gift!” Starsky jumped up to get some warmth into his feet. “Thought about how you’ll wrap up twelve drummers?” He played a rat-a-tat-tat on the trunk of the Torino.

“Wait and see,” Hutch promised.

January 4-5, 1984

After having to wait two hours until the plumbers fixed the broken pipes in the building, plus a four car pile-up on the freeway when they drove home at ten a.m., Hutch never had time to come up with one last gift. He and Starsky had fallen into bed on January fourth at eleven in the morning and gotten up at nearly nine p.m. in time for the next shift.

Yawning, all Hutch cared about was injecting caffeine straight into his veins, eating something and taking a shower before work. Starsky dragged around the condo, throwing together bacon, lettuce and tomato sandwiches, his eyes at half-mast.

“How come sleeping all day doesn’t make up for being up for more than twenty-four hours before?” he groused, stirring two spoonfuls of sugar into his coffee.

For once, Hutch didn’t comment on the high fat meal or Starsky’s overuse of sugar. He was exhausted, and they had another all-nighter to put in. “I’ll just be glad when we pull day shift again next week,” Hutch said. “You ready to go?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be.” Starsky buckled his shoulder holster in place.

Hutch watched, feeling just a little of the tiredness drain away. The day he stopped yearning for his partner’s body as he arched his chest to snap the holster straps in place was the day he’d be buried in the ground.

“Come here,” Hutch urged, tugging Starsky’s black turtleneck down more smoothly just so he could feel Starsky up a little.

Starsky kissed him quick, a smile replacing the fatigue. “On January sixth, big boy, ain’t that when I get to king you?”

“What an epiphany!” Hutch chuckled. “He got the concept after all this time.”

Unfortunately, since they were both exhausted, the night never seemed to end. Wednesday barreled into Thursday with what seemed like a mini crime wave. A domestic dispute that led to a fight at a bar with one man shot dead took up most of the wee hours. The sky was lightening in the east when the last of the brawlers had been hauled off to the city jail and the body to the morgue. Both Starsky and Hutch were ready to clock in but a fender-bender not two blocks from Metro brought traffic to a halt. Starsky rolled his eyes and grabbed the mic to call into dispatch when they were hailed first.

“Zebra three, there’s a report of a 211 at 765 Elby Street,” Kevin called.

“Sure thing, with the cars snarled up on Washington, there’s no way we’re getting to Metro anyway,” Starsky replied, bracing himself as Hutch made a sharp right into a less crowded side street and sped away. “That’s the community theater.”

“Victim says the thief was a tall thin man in blue sweat pants and a yellow and purple jacket,” Kevin continued. “Talk to a Thierry Miburu.”

“Some name,” Hutch commented, taking two successive rights to bring them onto Elby, about six blocks east of the theater. The sun wasn’t high enough to brighten the street. Shadows hung from every high building but Hutch could see the neon sign spelling out Tripoli—the T was faulty and occasionally blinked out for a few seconds.

“Hutch!” Starsky called out suddenly, pointing not at the bright red and blue sign, but to the sidewalk opposite the car. “Stop!”

“Wha…?” Hutch didn’t have time to register the command before Starsky shoved the car door open.

“Starsky!” Hutch yelled.

Starsky barreled across the road, diving headlong at a man just passing under a streetlamp.

Hutch braked, sent a hasty call for back-up and went after his partner. Starsky was already cuffing a stringbean of a man wearing a huge parka in Laker’s colors.

“What took you so long?” Starsky asked rhetorically, glancing up at Hutch. He gave the prisoner a little shake and hauled him to his feet. “Saw Ichabod Crane here and knew the description sounded familiar.”

“I didn’t do nuthin’,” Crane said sullenly.

Hutch snorted, unconvinced. Isaiah Crane was well-known for robbing movie theaters, usually when the cash was being taken to the after-hours bank drop. “You find any money on him?”

Starsky pointed to a manila envelope lying under the streetlamp on the sidewalk.

“That’s mine!” Crane protested. “I just got paid!”

“You have a job?” Hutch picked up the envelope, turning it over. On the front was printed Royal Drummers of Burundi, Thierry Miburu, Manager. “I guess you changed your name. I’ll return this if you can spell your new moniker.”

Crane gaped at Hutch, the port wine stain on his right temple suddenly glowing as the sun got high enough to shine down on the street. “I…” He shuffled his feet, apparently ready to flee with his hands cuffed behind him.

Starsky laughed, reciting the Miranda as fast as he could. “And look.” He turned Crane around to see the black and white cruiser pulling up behind Hutch’s Ford. “Here’s your ride to your temporary hotel. Have a nice stay.”

Hutch showed the officers the envelope stuffed with several hundred dollars and had them take photos of the evidence so that he could return the cash to the rightful owner.

Miburu was a small man with powerfully muscled arms and a bald head. He was overcome with thanks when Starsky and Hutch knocked on the door of the Tripoli.

“I was resigned to the fact that this money was gone forever,” he said breathlessly, in heavily accented English. There were tears in his dark brown eyes. “We gave our first performance in your country last night, but the bus has broken down and we did not have enough money to book a hotel—so we slept here. I…”

“You’ll have to come down to the station to sign a formal statement,” Starsky told him. “But we ain’t impounding money that’s obviously yours.”

“It was the ticket sales from the first show,” Miburu explained. “I was told to take it to the bank on the corner. To put it in the night safe.”

“A good plan,” Hutch agreed. “Just don’t do it by yourself, before dawn. Where are you from?” He looked around and saw Starsky’s eyes widen at the shabbiness of the place. The community theatre had fallen on hard times, too. The lobby looked dingy and dark at seven-thirty in the morning. From somewhere deep inside the building, a rhythmic pounding rose, nearly shaking the walls.

“Bujumbura, Burundi in Africa,” Miburu said graciously with a slight bow. “Please, come inside, we have breakfast. Would you share some sweet potato?”

“Thanks, we cannot eat when on duty,” Hutch replied. He couldn’t take food from these people who clearly had very little. Besides, he and Starsky would eat something soon enough at the station. The pounding was getting louder, an almost hypnotic beat that seemed both primitive and alive—something born of the earth.

“What’s that sound?” Starsky said over his shoulder, pushing open the door to the main hall.

The drumming spilled out of the theater, thunder from an ancient world, speaking to Hutch’s blood, his very soul. Starsky immediately began to bob his head to the tempo, watching the brown-skinned men on the stage jump and dance around their three foot tall drums, pounding ceaselessly. One man leapt so high that his knees seemed to touch his forehead and he laughed, his teeth white against his dark skin. The joy in their performance was infectious, and in spite of his fatigue, Hutch grinned.

“This is incredible!” he said, unable to take his eyes off the show.

“We are the Royal Drummers of Burundi,” Miburu said proudly. “Last night was the first show, and although we did not make much money, we hope that we provided happiness to the audience.”

“If they saw what I’m watching,” Starsky waved a hand at a performer carrying a staff and shield, twirling and leaping across the stage to the regular beat of the drums, “the audience couldn’t help but be happy. You guys are great.”

“Thank you.” Miburu clasped his hands in gratitude. “I had been afraid of coming to this country, of encountering dangers. Your swift justice on our behalf has given me new hope that we will be able to support our families back home.”

“We’ll spread the word, get you bigger audiences for the rest of your run,” Hutch promised. “Just make sure you walk in pairs when you take the money to the bank.”

“I’ll give you the name of a good mechanic for your bus, too,” Starsky said, digging into his pocket for a paper and pen to write out Merle’s address.

The booming percussion followed them out of the theater and back to Hutch’s car. Hutch’s ears were ringing from the sound. Even so, he and Starsky would be back to see the entire show before the drummers left town.

“Twelve drummers drumming…” Starsky yodeled.

“We did it,” Hutch said softly. “Finished the final verse.” He smiled, recalling the last twelve days. They’d not only given each other special gifts, but reconnected with family, helped out friends and new acquaintances, and found profound meaning in the interpretation of an ancient song.

Starsky glanced around at the quiet street, grasped Hutch’s hand and kissed his knuckles, quick. Hutch knew there would definitely be more where that came from when they were in the privacy of their own home.

“You got lucky, blintz,” Starsky teased, his eyes bright with love. “That one fell in your lap, like taking Rosie to the dairy, and—”

“As if you planned for the pipes at Metro to break!” Hutch countered. “And not like it was hard to find something with five rings on it with the Olympics coming.”

“You still wore the shirt!” Starsky climbed into the car, sliding his sunglasses on.

Hutch blinked in the bright morning sun and patted his letterman’s jacket for his shades. It promised to be a glorious morning, if still quite chilly for Southern California. “So did you.” He turned over the car engine, sure he could still hear the pounding drums at this distance. “And I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

January 6, 1984

Turtledove’s bakery displayed a Gateau du roi in the front window, complete with a gold paper crown. Starsky thought it looked more like a pie than a cake, with a crust-like top, but it smelled delicious. He could barely keep from opening the pink box and snitching a bit on the way home in the car.

Hutch sliced the first piece, and lucky man that he was, got the trinket on his fork when he bit into the cake. Starsky didn’t care—he was having cake for breakfast—with Hutchinson for dessert afterwards.

“You have to put on the crown,” Starsky said, placing the paper coronet on Hutch’s fair hair. “It must be in the rule books somewhere.”

“You wear it!” Hutch laughed, snatching it off and stuffing it down on Starsky’s curls. “We’ll rule this fair kingdom together.”

“Oh, no, you’re the king. Care for a game of chess? Knight’s pawn to King’s joey?” Starsky asked as if he really didn’t have other plans. He leaned back on the pillows to display his naked chest, savoring the taste of almond paste and crust lingering on his tongue. The crown tumbled off into the bed sheets. “Jousting with lances?”

“Chess, no.” Hutch pushed the Friday morning newspaper off their bed and set the remains of the cake on the floor. “But jousting sounds like fun.”

“It’s all fun and games until someone pokes an eye.” Starsky stretched out, his cock swelling just from the word play.

“I should never have let you talk me into seeing that Christmas Story movie,” Hutch chuckled, removing his only clothes, Starsky’s Santa boxers.

“Can I help it if your publicity sold out the Burundi drummers’ show and we had to buy tickets for another night?” Starsky shrugged, his eyes on Hutch’s display. “I needed some entertainment after working the late shift for the past week. Kiko and Molly both gave the movie two thumbs up.”

“Reminded me of my childhood,” Hutch murmured, gathering Starsky into him. He kissed Starsky reverently.

The kiss melted Starsky’s bones. He flowed into Hutch’s arms, giving and responding to the nuzzles and licks as Hutch covered his upper body with love.

“You ever do that…” Starsky sighed, lapping at Hutch’s warm neck. It was nothing like a frozen pole. “Lick a…”

“I knew better.” Hutch swallowed, his Adam’s apple giving Starsky’s tongue a rollercoaster ride. “But the way you laughed, you must have?” He turned to suck briefly on Starsky’s ear lobe.

Starsky snickered, letting Hutch arrange him against the headboard with the pillows shoved under his butt for leverage, remembering the scene where Ralph triple dog dares his friend to put his tongue on an icy flagpole. “No, Nicky did.”

“Nicky would,” Hutch conceded with a grin. His blond hair fell over his forehead, brushing his eyelashes when he gazed at Starsky. He ran his fingers lightly down the inside of Starsky’s thighs, adding his tongue for effect.

Starsky gasped, arousal swirling like a vortex inside him. “Babe…” He wanted Hutch inside him sooner rather than later. “King for the day—all yours.”

“Gonna claim my prize,” Hutch whispered, positioning himself. He knelt, his thick erection poised at the entrance to Starsky’s body. “I love you.”

“No question.” Starsky arched as Hutch pushed in, the initial burn an erotic cocktail, both painful and amazingly powerful. Once Hutch was fully seated, the pleasure intensified tenfold and Starsky shook with lust. “Love you so much.”

Hutch panted, his chest heaving and he leaned down to Starsky to kiss him hard, all thrusting tongue and clashing teeth. He curled his palm around Starsky’s cock, squeezing hard just as his climax must have hit. His length expanded inside Starsky, pulsing against his interior walls like a second heart.

Starsky orgasmed seconds after Hutch, linking his hands around his lover to keep them close when they tumbled sideways onto the sheets together.

“You’re a better hump than a camel any old day,” Hutch muttered into Starsky’s ear as he fell asleep.

“My true love said to me…” Starsky sang to himself, wrapped in Hutch’s arms.

FIN