Starsky & Hutch Advent Calendar 2016

This story came to me in response to the Me_and_Thee 100’s Challenge 353 – Dream.

The strangest reindeer Hutch had ever seen walked toward him out of the fog. Not that he’d ever seen one in real life, but PBS documentaries and Christmas specials couldn’t have been that wrong. Could they?

This animal had a coat of dark brown curls instead of tan fur, and its legs were all slightly bowed as if it had been riding something barrel shaped. It was the eyes though that mesmerized. They were a darker, deeper shade of midnight blue than Hutch thought possible. He knew eyes that color, only they didn’t belong on one of Santa’s Christmas Eve beasts of burden. Did they?

That’s when he noticed the rack of antlers. Where the usual spikes pointing in various upward directions should have been, there were nine vertical protrusions, lined up across the animal’s head, side to side, all sprouting from a central bony column. It looked like a menorah.

At the moment that thought occurred, the middle spike lit up with a small flame. Now, that’s just a little too weird, Hutch decided.

“What’s weird about it?” the reindeer asked in an amused masculine voice. One corner of his mouth swept up in a lop-sided grin that made Hutch shiver. He knew that expression, too.

“Starsky,” Hutch said, firmly, attempting to come to grips with this illusion, aberrant perception, hallucination. “What are you doing wearing a reindeer suit? You look ridiculous!”

“So would you if you’d drawn the short straw,” the animal retorted. “I have to stay in this silly outfit until you wake up.”

“Until I wake up?” Hutch asked, confused. “What about you?”

“I’m not the one havin’ the dream, Hutch,” the northern tundra critter replied patiently. “You said you could handle the combination but, when you slid off the couch, everybody drew straws to see who’d watch over you in Neverland.” Lifting a foreleg in a jaunty gesture, the creature snorted softly. “I admit I rigged it so that I’d win. Couldn’t have you wanderin’ around out here, all by your lonesome.”

Hutch glanced at the surroundings but all he could see was fog. “Where’s ‘here’?”

“I’m the wrong one to ask, pal,” his four legged companion replied, blue eyes sparkling mischievously.

“But a menorah-topped reindeer?” Hutch queried. “Is that the best you could do for a costume?”

“Like I said before, Hutch,” the reindeer replied, “it’s your delusion.”

“Okay,” Hutch muttered. “How many lighted antlers do I have to wait for? And how long is this going to take?”

A second pointed protrusion sprang to flame.

“No idea,” the sleigh-puller replied, good-naturedly, shrugging a muscular shoulder. “Wanna dance while we wait?” He began to move gracefully and energetically to the beat of disco music that suddenly filtered through the mist.

“Disco’s passé, Starsk,” Hutch muttered.

“Obviously not in your imagination,” the critter that spoke with Starsky’s voice said, smugly. He bumped against Hutch’s hip, suggestively. “Come on, help me out here, big boy.”

Hutch stepped back a pace and held his hands up. “By all means, enjoy yourself,” he muttered, wondering if getting pissed would speed things along.

“You can’t be mad right now, Hutch,” the reindeer said, gliding forward and rubbing his neck against Hutch’s arm, clearly being careful not to burn Hutch with the two lighted prongs of his antlers. “You’re much too happy. This is our first Christmas since Gunther and you and I are finally, as of this very evening, more than partners, friends, pals and buddies.” The animal rubbed itself more sensuously against Hutch’s body, eliciting feelings that were decidedly not of the angry variety.

Letting go of the dregs of his irritation, Hutch draped his arms around the warm neck and leaned his cheek against the soft curly hair. The compelling creature moved provocatively against him while a third and fourth tip took fire.

Swaying and moving to the progressively slower music, in sync with the unfamiliar configuration of the body he now knew intimately, Hutch was blissfully content. Eventually, all nine ‘candles’ were lit.

Hutch looked into the twinkling happiness of the single eye he could see. “I think I’m ready to wake up now, Starsk.”

The fog miraculously vanished and Hutch was staring up into the indigo eyes of his partner, his best friend, his brand new lover.

Glancing around, Hutch realized that he was lying on the floor of his apartment, between the couch and coffee table, his head nestled in Starsky’s lap. The curly hair-fringed face leaned over him, mouth quirked with humor and devotion.

“Edith? Dobey? Huggy? They all left you here alone to take care of me?” Hutch asked, wonderingly.

“I told ‘em I could handle it,” Starsky replied, shyly. His smile was kind with understanding. “Simmons, Babcock, and their wives offered to stay and help clean up but Minnie shooed them out. She and Huggy straightened up a little before he took her home.”

“I’ll bet they’ll never let me live it down, huh?” Hutch asked, contrite.

“None of them knew you’d polished off most of a magnum of champagne before they got here,” Starsky went on, softly. “After I explained that we’d been celebrating my reinstatement, and I showed them the empty bottle, they understood.”

“It did make a delicious accompaniment to the other pre-party festivities,” Hutch noted with satisfaction.

“I forgot to ask what everyone was bringing though,” Starsky said, apologetically. “If I had, I’d have suggested we both limit ourselves to one glass. You said that was all I should have but I didn’t realize you’d need to be careful, too.”

“I promise, babe,” Hutch said, picking up Starsky’s hand and kissing the knuckles, “no matter what wonderful moments we celebrate in the future, I will never combine spicy sausage and green pepper pizza, Huggy’s heavily spiked eggnog, and champagne, again.”

Starsky helped him to his unsteady feet, put a strong arm around his waist, and guided him toward the bedroom alcove.

“You looked good as a reindeer, Starsk,” Hutch said, sexily.

“Yeah?” Starsky asked, his interest piqued. “Tell me.”

“Maybe someday,” Hutch replied, enigmatically. “I have the picture in my head and, believe me, I’ll never forget it.”

“Merry Christmas, Hutch.”

“Merry Christmas, Dancer.”

The vision was strange
but joy, compassion and love
came through just fine, thanks

END

“What are you doing?”

Starsky stood up quickly and hit his head on the rod holding Hutch’s clothes. He grabbed his head and rubbed it with both hands. “Owww! What did you do that for?”

“I did it because you were practically standing on your head in MY closet. So again, what are you doing?”

“I… uh… I was… looking for a shirt I loaned you.”

“When?”

“When what?”

“When did you loan me a shirt? And what did it look like?”

“It was that shirt that looked really good on you.” Starsky beamed his thousand megawatt smile at Hutch.

“Look, buddy we both know why you’re in my closet.”

“We do?”

“Yeah, we do.”

“Then why did you ask me what I was doing in your closet?”

Hutch gave up. He never could keep up with Starsky’s logic. “Your present isn’t in the house. So you might as well stop looking for it.”

Starsky’s face fell. “It’s not?” He looked at the mess he’d made digging through the bottom of the closet. He looked back at Hutch. “You didn’t plant another tree somewhere in my name…did you?”

“No, buddy. No more trees.”

“Another star named after me?”

“Nope. One ‘StarSky’ star is enough to light up the entire night sky.”

Starsky was almost sidetracked by the image those words brought to his mind. “Aww Hutch, that was downright poetic. But where’s my present?”

Hutch laughed. There was no one more determined than his partner when it came to ferreting out his Christmas presents. “Christmas is only two days away. You’ll find out then.”

“But Hutch…”

“Come on, gordo. I’ll take you out for some tacos to make it up to you.”

That megawatt smile made a re-appearance. “All right!!”
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