“Uncle Kenny! Uncle Kenny! Uncle Davy!”
Six little feet tripped over each other in their haste to run to Hutch. Little arms wrapped around his legs and then grabbed for Starsky’s legs as Starsky came up behind him. Continue reading “December 16th: The Greatest Gift by MeNThee”
Starsky and Hutch knew that Molly and Kiko Ramos were the closest they’d ever come to having children of their own, and they treated them accordingly.
Kiko, a little older than Molly, went to college first, and got a nearly complete scholarship to do “something with computers” that no one else understood, no matter how he tried to explain. It was no problem for his mother, with a little help from Hutch, to pay for what the scholarship didn’t cover. Continue reading “December 15th: Sunrise, Sunset by Silver Chipmunk”
Starsky pulled into the driveway of the home he shared with Hutch, his holiday spirit in full swing. Since he and Hutch retired, life has never been better. Gone were the days of dangerous cases and life-threatening injuries. They were free to live their lives as they pleased, both alive and healthy and above all, still madly in love.
Starsky shut off the engine and gazed at the cozy bungalow, thinking about the special traditions and memories created there, especially at Christmas. He sighed contentedly as he looked at the string of lights he installed that morning, framing the roof and entryway, ready to shine at nightfall.
With an armful of groceries, Starsky climbed out of the car and hopped up the front steps. As he opened the door, the silver bell suspended from the wreath jingled, and at the same time, the phone started ringing. He rushed inside and placed the bag on the counter.
“Ho ho ho. Talk to me,” Starsky sang into the phone, balancing the receiver between ear and shoulder as he unpacked the groceries.
“Ho ho ho yourself,” said Hutch’s familiar voice. “What are you doing?”
“I’m about to make my traditional holiday chili,” Starsky said as he unpackaged the ground beef and threw it into a saucepan.
“Oh, yeah? Don’t forget to lay off the hot sauce. You know how I get heartburn.” Continue reading “December 14th: A Colorful Compromise by SHybaby”
Keep pushing, keep pushing, Hutch encouraged himself. Venice Place is almost in sight, and all you have to do is focus on your breathing and this damned mile will be over. Hutch steadied his pace, trying to time his breaths to his footsteps and maintain focus, but thoughts of Starsky crept in anyway. I wonder if he’s out of bed yet? Showered? Waiting for me?
When he gratefully reached his home, he gave a final push to sprint up the stairs and walked in with his face dripping sweat. It had taken him three months of running a mile every morning to get back into shape. He used to make this run and barely break a sweat. It didn’t matter though. Hutch didn’t care that he now came home drenched; he had to be at his best. Continue reading “December 13th: The Sixth Box by Keri T.”
I’ve heard it said,
That people come into our lives for a reason
Bringing something we must learn.
And we are led to those
Who help us most to grow if we let them.
And we help them in return.
Well, I don’t know if I believe that’s true
But I know I’m who I am today
Because I knew you.
Stephan Schwartz
Grabbing the last two grocery bags, Hutch mounted the steps to Starsky’s apartment. As always, he imagined he was a mountain climber on a trek up Everest, hiking past the tree growing through the deck and into the open front door.
Starsky had left his bags on the floor near the kitchen without unpacking them. He was hunched in abject despair at the dining room table, staring down at a letter. A rectangular piece of paper dangled from his left hand as if he wasn’t sure it was real or not.
Hutch deposited his load on the kitchen counter before brushing a consoling palm over Starsky’s slumped shoulders. “What did you find in the mail?”
Offering up the check, Starsky inhaled, tears glinting in his eyes. “From Terri’s family.”
“Twenty-four thousand dollars?” Hutch read the amount on the check, totally understanding Starsky’s stunned expression. “What is this for?”
“Y’remember how Terri used to buy a quart a milk every day?” Starsky’s voice was lanced through with jagged pain. Continue reading “December 12th: Because I Knew You by Dawnwind”
“Merry Christmas.”
Starsky woke up to Hutch’s murmured words against his ear. He grinned and pulled him in closer for a slow kiss. “Merry Christmas back.”
Hutch levered up on his elbows. Starsky shivered as one finger traced gently along his jaw. He turned his head into the touch.
“You sure you’re up to doing the meal at the mission?” Continue reading “December 11th: Mashed Potatoes and Mistletoe by babs”
Blue eyes met in instant unspoken communication, and turning their backs on the astonished woman, they exited together, arms slung around each other’s’ shoulders. Neither was quite sober.
“Back to my place?” Hutch queried.
Starsky considered, then shrugged. He was tired. One place was as good as another. So long as it had a bed. Or at least somewhere to lie down. He was sure he’d feel better after a good night’s sleep, when the pain engendered by this debacle was behind him.
“Sure.” On automatic, he followed Hutch out to where the LTD was parked, slid into the passenger seat, and closed his eyes… Continue reading “December 10th: Revelation by Kymrukatz (Terri Beckett)”
As he slowly began waking up, Starsky had a hard time deciding where he was. Or how he had gotten there. As he became more conscious, he detected a large weight across his chest and another one across his legs.
Oh God! Why does this keep happening? And only when we’re here, but never at my place?
“Hutch! Get off of me, you big oaf! How the hell did we end up in bed together?”
Hutch stirred, but only snuggled closer to Starsky, pulling him tighter.
“HUTCH! Come on. Move it!” Starsky pushed Hutch off and over to the other side of the bed. Maybe he pushed a little more than he intended; Hutch rolled off and onto the floor with a thud.
Now fully awake, Hutch jumped up. “What the hell, Starsky! And what the hell are you doing in my bed?”
Blinking rapidly to try to focus his eyes, Starsky thought he saw a smile flash across Hutch’s face. But it was gone in a flash so he dismissed that absurdity. Continue reading “December 9th: Joe Cool by Lilibet”
December 12, 1980
Hutch found Starsky in the kitchen, wadding up a newspaper and stuffing it into a cardboard box. “Is that my Christmas present? Should I close my eyes?” he joked.
But there was none of the carol humming or cookie munching that usually accompanied Starsky’s holiday wrapping jobs. Starsky just kept his attention on whatever was in the box. His mood would have been unreadable to anyone else, but Hutch knew that face. It meant Starsky was trying to deal with some strong emotions.
He moved to stand behind him and put an arm around his waist, feeling the tension in Starsky’s frame. “Starsk, what’s going on?”
“Nothing… just…packing this up to ship to Ma.”
Hutch peered into the box and saw the freshly polished menorah nestled in wads of paper.
“Why?”
“We were talking about Hanukkah. She said she’d thought about it and since it’s a family heirloom that Nicky should have it, so it could still get passed down to the next Starsky generation.”
Hutch was stunned. He knew Perla wasn’t happy with their relationship, but to take back the menorah? Starsky’s great-grandfather had run into a burning synagogue to rescue the Torah and menorah. The Torah had been used to start a new congregation in a new land, but the menorah had stayed in the family, passed from father to first-born son. A legacy of bravery and dedication that his partner had lived every day on the streets.
“Oh, babe.” Hutch pulled him closer, pressing a kiss into the curls.
“No, she’s right. It’s the only heirloom the Starsky family’s got and it should be passed down. And since I’m not going to give her a grandson, Nick should have it. He’s doing great now. Ma thinks he’s going to propose to Candace soon, so it should go to him.”
As much as Hutch wanted to vent his opinion of Perla’s passive-aggressive tactics, he kept it to himself. He gave Starsky another hug. “I’m sorry, babe. I know what it represents, what it means to you. I never thought–”
“Hutch, don’t.” Starsky shook his head. “You didn’t cause this, so don’t start apologizing. To me, Ma asking for this back means she’s accepting that we’re real.” He paused, drew a deep breath and Hutch felt the shift of tense muscles. He could feel his partner letting go of the hurt, moving past it and getting on with life. Starsky turned in his arms to give him a quick kiss before adding, “Besides, you’re loads more fun to light up than a menorah. And it’s not like I’m giving up the Torino!”
Hutch recognized the unspoken request to let it go, so he heaved an exaggerated sigh and said, “Thanks. Nice to know I’m so highly prized.” Then he gave Starsky’s ass a firm slap, just the way he liked.
“Mmm.” Starsky wiggled against him. “Do that again.”
Hutch obliged, and Starsky started maneuvering them towards the bedroom. “Tell you what, you can show me all the ways you can be more fun than my car and maybe I’ll revise your ranking.”
Later, as Hutch was on the edge of sleep, Starsky quietly said. “It’s not like I’m that religious or anything.”
“We can always buy a menorah. I know it won’t be a replacement, but we’ll have one of our own to use, if you want to.”
“Yeah… yeah, I guess so.”
“We’ll talk about it tomorrow. Go to sleep, babe.”
Starsky replied with an affectionate sounding mumble followed by a light snore.
Hutch whispered, “Thank you for choosing us,” into a curl-covered ear before falling asleep in Starsky’s arms.
“Starsk, what the hell are you doing!”
“Driving through the tunnel again—what’s it look like?”
“Oh, for God’s sake, why don’t you just admit that we’re lost?”
“We are not lost. I know where we’re going. I just don’t know how to get there. The road signs around here are incomprehensible.”
“Incomprehensible? Is that a new word you just learned?”
“Look, will ya be quiet so I can concentrate on where we’re goin’?”
“We’re going in circles, Starsk… around and around and around. Like we’re on a hamster wheel!”
“And you… you’re no help. I thought you knew how to read maps!”
“I do. I can’t help the fact that this map you bought in no way resembles the reality of the roads we’ve been driving on. You sure this is the right map?” Continue reading “December 7th: Wrong Way, Right Direction by Daisy Morgan”
