December 5th- Christmas for Me and Thee by Becky

“Hey, you wanna do this?” Starsky stepped back, admiring the tree. He held out the angel to Hutch.

Starsky glanced at Hutch who sat on the floor, leaning back against the couch. The blond studied the sparkly lights and old fashioned decorations. He’d unearthed the silver horns, glittery tinsel and hand carved red birds that his grandparents had entrusted to him. It was the first Christmas in a long time that he felt like celebrating.

Hutch picked up the open bottle of beer beside him. He took a long pull of the amber liquid then offered it to Starsky, who accepted it but set it back on the table without taking a drink. Still watching Hutch, Starsky waited for an answer.

“No, go ahead, Starsk, you do the honors.”

“But it’s from your family, from your grandmother,” Starsky reminded his friend as he continued to monitor Hutch’s face.

It was only a little over a month since Hutch’s hand had been burned due to Artie Sokin’s terrible act of vengeance. He was still in pain and wasn’t able to grip his gun or shoot so they both had opted to do desk duty rather than work alone. This was the last long weekend before Christmas and Starsky had decided to take full advantage of the time off. The best thing was when he’d mentioned a Christmas tree, Hutch readily agreed. Together they’d unpacked a dusty box of ornaments. While Hutch unwrapped and explained about each decoration, Starsky had set up the small, live tree.

Starsky kept a close watch on his partner. He was still concerned that Hutch was doing too much with his injured hand. The skin was still an angry red in places and caused a good deal of pain for the blond. The man could be so stubborn sometimes. Shadows underneath the pale eyes would spread into a charcoal smudge, a sure sign that it was time for pain pills. When Hutch accepted them without complaint, Starsky inwardly winced, realizing just how uncomfortable the normally stoic man was.

However, at the moment, Hutch’s clear blue eyes remained bright and focused, with no deep lines around the mouth. Starsky shut off his pain-seeking radar and continued to enjoy the moment with his friend as he stood, offering the angel to Hutch.

Hutch stretched out on the floor, his back to the couch. He shook his head indicating that Starsky should finish decorating the tree. He absently flexed his wounded hand then picked up the beer to take a long drink.

The dark-haired man finished setting the angel on top of the tree. He quietly watched the blond flexing his fingers. Starsky joined his friend and gently took the big hand in his and began rubbing the fingers himself.

“That feels so good.” Hutch closed his eyes, enjoying the attention from his lover.

Neither man spoke for a few minutes. Starsky continued to massage the palm of Hutch’s hand, feeling the scars and uneven pattern there. But he smiled in spite of the damage. There was feeling in the hand and Hutch was able to move his fingers enough to play his guitar. Certainly, this was reason to celebrate.

Not only was this recommended therapy from the doctor, but both men enjoyed any excuse to touch the other. Their newly confirmed love seemed to have cemented itself since this most recent accident.

“I think this is what Christmas is all about.” Hutch spoke quietly, relishing the continued ministration to his hand.

Starsky’s eyes darkened with emotion. Since accepting their true feelings, the partners could finally settle into a relationship that felt right and brought them both peace.

“You just like the attention, ya big lug.” Kissing the middle of the injured hand, Starsky smiled and finally let go and reached for his bottle of beer.

“I don’t know why it took us so long to see what was right in front of us. Babe, there’s no one else I’d rather spend the day with. Plus, I think I finally can enjoy Christmas without giving in to the commercialism of it all.” Hutch smiled and reached out to his friend. He curled his other hand through the dark hair, as Starsky groaned with pleasure.

Hutch cleared his throat and decided to pick up his guitar that was sitting on the couch.

Starsky couldn’t resist giving him a dark look of concern, but at the same time, he was glad to see that the blond was able to enjoy the guitar. It was still hard for him to do so, but again it was with the doctor’s blessing and to be part of therapy to help in the healing process.

While Hutch played, Starsky got up to examine each Christmas card scattered across the piano. Then, he helped himself to a cookie from the box on the kitchen counter. Minnie had baked an assortment of Christmas goodies and presented the brightly decorated box to her two favorite detectives.

Starsky kept up the pretense of examining the decorations and nibbling at the pie that Mrs. Dobey and Rosie had made. While Hutch continued to play, the dark-haired man studied him, looking for signs of tension, frustration and distress.

Starsky still felt restless so he moved about the apartment but came back to the coffee table. He reached down for the beer, took a swig, and handed it over to Hutch who was in-between songs.

The blond set the guitar aside then reached for the bottle. He raised it as a salute to his friend. In response, Starsky raised the cookie in his hand.

“Never thought you’d be so far along with that hand, buddy. You’ve worked hard.” Starsky spoke, chewing on the cookie. He picked at a crumb that fell on his shirt, popping it into his mouth.

Starsky had no doubt that Hutch would make a complete recovery. Simply put, his friend hated any negativity. He worked through the painful healing process, accepting the procedures and declining any acts of sympathy. Only Starsky knew how concerned the blond really was. He saw it in the way Hutch stared at his hand, holding it, cradling it when he thought he wasn’t being observed. .

“Couldn’t have got this far without ya, buddy.” Hutch nodded his head then suddenly got up, stretching out his back.

He walked forward, touching the spruce tree, inhaling the pine scent. He gazed at the angel, remembering how his Grandmother had fashioned the delicate decoration.

Still rubbing his hand, he glanced again at the angel on the tree. He wasn’t surprised when he felt Starsky’s arm around him. He looked over, sharing what he had been thinking.

“Christmas is all about love and friends. Just look around this place.” Taking in the numerous cards, the array of goodies and the lovingly decorated tree, Hutch bent toward his lover and kissed him lightly.

They moved as one to the couch, falling onto the cushions. Hutch wrapped his arms around Starsky, who snuggled closer to the big blond.

Wrapped in their love, surrounded by the gifts from friends, the men had all they could ever want or need.