December 14th: A Colorful Compromise by SHybaby

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.”

Starsky took the jar of tabasco from the bag and examined it, considering the request. “Don’t worry, it’ll taste great,” he replied, unscrewing the cap and pumping a few drops into the pot. “Is that Christmas music playing in the background?”

“Yes, it is. I think I found it.” Hutch hollered over the music.

“What did you find?” asked Starsky, eager to shift the conversation away from spices.

“I found the tree that I think we should get. I know we usually pick it out together so I wanted to ask if it was okay if I bought it without you.”

Starsky grabbed the can opener and cranked open a can of black beans. “You sound excited,” he said. “Are you sure it’s the one?” He poured the beans into the pot.

“I’m sure. I think you’ll love it.”

The excitement in Hutch’s voice was palpable through the phone. The days when he despised Christmas were long gone and it warmed Starsky’s heart.

“Then buy it, you big softie. We can still decorate it together, right?”

“Of course, I wouldn’t miss that for the world. I can’t wait to show it to you. It’s the best tree I’ve ever seen. I’ll be home soon.”

Starsky turned off the stove, set aside the chili, and hummed a tune on his way to retrieve the ornaments from the storage closet.

 

Starsky added a few extra dashes of hot sauce to the chili and lifted the spoon to his tongue. “This could melt all the igloos in Duluth. Of course, Hutch would argue there aren’t any igloos in Duluth, but I figure if there is still snow on the ground in April, what’s the difference? There may as well be.”

He tapped the spoon against the pot as he heard the front door open. He turned off the stove and headed to the entrance, dish towel over his shoulder.

“Hey, do you need any help getting the tree out of your car?”

Starsky halted as Hutch dragged a long cardboard box into the room instead of the expected tree. “What’s that?” Starsky asked, “Where’s the tree?”

Hutch’s eyes lit up as he entered the room, closing the door behind him with a confident click. “It’s right here,” he proclaimed, his voice brimming with enthusiasm.

“Right where?” Starsky looked out the window to see if a tree was on top of the car.

“Right in front of you.” Hutch answered, “In the box.”

Starsky was puzzled, “A tree in a box? We always go to Al’s Tree Emporium, but Al never used boxes before.”

“No, I was thinking we could do something different. I got an artificial tree to help save the environment. We can use it every year and avoid cutting down so many trees.”

Hutch grabbed a pair of scissors from the kitchen and hurried back to the living room.

“Don’t worry, it’ll be great,” said Hutch as he sliced the box and revealed the greenery inside. “The girl at the store said it’s only three pieces and presto it’ll be up in no time.”

“A fake tree? What about the natural scent of wood and pine needles that we love so much? What about the fact that every year, we test all the strings of colored lights and then wrap them around the tree? What about the huge yellow star that goes on top, how will that look on a fake tree? Huh?” Starsky yanked the dish towel from his shoulder and tossed it on the coffee table. “What about tradition, Hutch? Did you forget about our three most important Christmas traditions?”

Hutch appeared shocked. “Of course, I didn’t forget,” he replied.

“Oh, but I think maybe you have, “Starsky said, holding up one finger. “Tradition number one — every year we buy one special gift for each other.”

“I know, and never a sweater,” Hutch asserted.

“That’s your tradition, not mine. I would love to get a sweater if you picked it out, but we digress.”

Starsky inhaled, hands on hips to emphasize his point.

“Tradition number two — we both donate a little extra to the charity of our choice. The Big Brothers and Sisters of America should have given you a plaque in your honor by now.”

“And that homeless shelter downtown has helped so many people all these years with all the support you give….” Hutch began to say.

Starsky interrupted, holding up three fingers, “Don’t change the subject. Do you remember Tradition number three? It’s the most important one.”

Starsky glared at Hutch, challenging him to get it right.

“Of course, I remember.” Hutch didn’t hesitate. “Two weeks before Christmas, we pick out a tree together and spend the evening eating chili and decorating it by the fire.”

“Correct! So, you see, you forgot tradition number three when you bought this… this… aberration of a tree.” Starsky gazed at the box with contempt.

“Hold on a second,” Hutch argued, “I called specifically to ask if it was okay to buy it without you.”

Starsky gestured at the cardboard intrusion. “Yes, but you failed to mention it’s fake!”

“Hear me out, Starsk. This tree is pre-lit, which means that the lights are wired into it and fully functional. We won’t have to search for an extension cord or test the lights beforehand, and cross our fingers that they’ll work. Plus, no more dealing with vacuuming stray pine needles off the floor. We can simply set it up and plug it in. It looked stunning in the store; you should have seen it!”

“A pre-lit tree?” Starsky crouched down and looked at the picture on the side of the box. He stood up and waved his hands at it. “This tree has clear lights. Do you mean to tell me that our Christmas tree is going to be one of those fancy-dancy ones with clear white lights? Those trees look so… so… monotone. We need multi-color, like green and red and yellow and all the colors of the rainbow. Who wants to look at a tree that looks like it belongs in a black-and-white movie?”

“Monochrome, not monotone,” Hutch corrected. “Don’t you know that colored lights were so ten years ago? White lights look sleeker and more elegant. Let’s keep up with the times.”

“Monochrome…monotone, what’s the difference, it’s still boring,” Starsky declared. “And I do keep up with the times. I have a DVD and a Blu-ray player. I even have an AOL account to chat with my mother every Friday night. But this is not about keeping up with the times. This is about abandoning tradition. And now we’re stuck with something with pale lights that make it look like a ghost on Halloween instead of a festive tree at Christmas!”

Hutch stormed into the kitchen and grabbed a roll of masking tape. He returned and sealed the opened edges of the box shut. “Fine!” he shouted. “You don’t like the artificial tree? You don’t want to evolve with the times? You want to destroy the environment? Then I’ll take it back and we can go to Al’s Tree Emporium and buy a needle-shedding, pine-smelling, forest-killing one that you seem to love so much!”

Hutch began to drag the box towards the door.

“Oh no you don’t,” Starsky said, holding out a hand. “Who’s to say this plastic thing is any better for the environment than one more tree in the forest would be? I will take it back. You probably got talked into it by some pretty girl at the department store and who knows what else she’ll talk you into.”

“I did not get sweet-talked,” Hutch said, his arms folded. “Suit yourself. The receipt is on the table. Ho, ho, ho.” He turned around in a huff and left the room.

“Ho-ho-ho,” Starsky retorted, imitating Hutch.

There was no way Starsky would agree to break this tradition. What would be next, another tree planted in his name? He lugged the box outside, packed it into his car, and drove off.

 

Starsky loaded the tree onto a cart and wheeled it into the department store. The store was crowded and filled with Christmas music, as parents tried to keep their children from running from one decorative display to the next. When he arrived at the service counter, he was greeted by a young woman.

“Can I help you sir?”

“Yes, I want to return this Christmas tree. Would you please help me with that?” Starsky asked charmingly as he peered at the girl’s name tag, “Maggie?”

“Of course,” she answered, glancing at the box, “Oh, that is such a nice tree. One of my favorite designs. Is there something wrong with it?”

Starsky tapped his fingers on the counter and gave the young woman a piercing look.

“No. I mean yes. I mean, it’s just not suitable and I want to return it.” Starsky straightened, satisfied he made his point.

Maggie nodded. “No problem. May I ask what you mean by not suitable? I could help you pick out something else if you like.”

“I mean, it’s not suitable because it is pre-lit with all-white lights. I prefer a tree with lots of color; a traditional Christmas feel, you know? My better half, on the other hand, seems to think a dull, monochromatic tree is all the rage. We can’t agree, so it’s going back.”

“I think I can help you with that. I can show you just the tree you need!” Maggie exclaimed.

“I’m sorry Maggie, but you don’t understand.” Starsky took a breath as he mustered his patience. “All I want to do is to return this tree. We’re going to buy a real one, and I’ll string the same multi-colored lights that I do every year.”

“Oh,” said Maggie pleasantly. “What if I told you that you could have a tree that both you and your better half would love? Would you be interested in at least looking at it?”

Starsky started to object but stopped when he heard the words “better half.” Nothing could compare to what he had with Hutch. Hutch was there for him all these years; for all the highs and lows, and everything in between, just like Starsky was for Hutch. Starsky still got butterflies thinking about their first kiss all those years ago, when they both finally confessed their love.

He pictured Hutch in the store, being swept into the holiday spirit by all the shimmering displays. His practical, minimalistic partner fell in love with a tree; one that he thought was special and unique. Hutch saw it as a symbol of beauty and joy and all he wanted was to share that with Starsky. Hutch was not only his better half; he was his life, and Starsky would not have it any other way.

The dulcet tones of Bing Crosby’s rendition of White Christmas resounded in Starsky’s ears, bringing him back to the present. He blinked and gave Maggie his best smile.

“Ok, sweetheart, show me the way. I guess it won’t hurt to look.”

 

Starsky dragged a cardboard box through the front door, the small bell on the wreath announcing his arrival. Hutch was reclining on the sofa, his legs stretched out and a cushion behind his head. He looked over and sat up.

“What is that?” Hutch asked. “Wouldn’t the store take it back?”

“Yes, but I got another one. I hope you like it.”

“You bought another one and you hope I like it?” Hutch repeated, shaking his head as he walked over to inspect it. “And you were worried about me getting sweet-talked.”

“I was not sweet-talked,” Starsky replied. He approached Hutch until they were face-to-face, brushing a hand through the blond hair. “What I am is sorry. I shouldn’t have reacted the way I did. It’s Christmas. The only thing that matters is that we’re together.”

“I’m sorry too,” Hutch said, softening his tone with a sigh, pressing his cheek into Starsky’s hand. “I shouldn’t have bought an artificial tree without your knowledge. I only care about being with you, not what kind of tree we have.”

“You were just excited. I love it when I get to see that side of you.”

“And I love how much tradition means to you.”

Starsky’s forehead rested against Hutch’s. “I was worried that if we start to ignore tradition, even a little, the life we worked so hard for… that we had to freaking fight like hell to have all these years… would start to unravel. Stupid, right?”

Hutch lifted Starsky’s chin and cupped it in his palm. “Not stupid, beautiful. Not to mention adorable. What an idiot I’ve been. I didn’t realize you felt that way.”

“I didn’t either until today when Maggie convinced me to look at the choices of artificial trees,” Starsky admitted.

“Maggie? First name basis, huh?” Hutch chuckled.

“Don’t get jealous. She sweet-talked you first,” Starsky joked. “But seriously, in that moment I remembered that nothing can break us apart. We survived a lot more important things in life than arguing about the color of lights on a tree. Tradition isn’t what keeps us strong. We have each other for that.”

“I didn’t consider all that before,” Hutch said, “I’m sorry…”

Starsky held a finger to Hutch’s lips. “No more apologies. How about instead you help me put this tree up? Maggie said it was three easy pieces.”

Hutch nodded and retrieved the scissors, slicing the box open. “Hey, this is a pre-lit tree! So what’s so special about this one?”

Starsky rubbed his hands together in delight. He raised the lid and pulled out the base, positioning it in the corner so the electrical cord hung at the back. “You’ll see, hang on.” He inserted the middle piece into the base. “Grab the top piece for me, almost done.”

Hutch reached up and placed the third piece on top. They both took a step back and admired their work.

“It fits perfectly.” Hutch said, “Should we plug it in?”

Starsky raised his finger, indicating to Hutch to wait. He rummaged through the box and pulled out a remote control. “Great, batteries are included.”

Starsky crawled underneath and plugged it into the electrical socket. A shower of white lights illuminated the tree. Starsky rose to his feet and smiled.

“It’s beautiful, but Starsk, I thought you didn’t like clear lights.”

“I’ll get used to them,” Starsky grinned. “There’s more. Watch this.”

Starsky clicked the remote control. The white lights transformed into an assortment of colors that sparkled against the green branches.

“We can switch back and forth, take turns. One night all white, the next night multi-colors.” Starsky grinned.

Hutch threw his head back and laughed. “I love it.”

“There’s a third choice too,” Starsky held up the remote and clicked a third button. All of the white and colored lights lit up at the same time.

“We can have both. The tree looks even brighter that way,” Starsky said.

“It’s stunning,” Hutch beamed as bright as the tree.

“Yes, it is. Maggie says that keeping an artificial tree for several years might be better for the environment compared to cutting one down.” Starsky leaned into Hutch’s arms.

“Then we might have to keep it forever,” Hutch said with a kiss to the top of Starsky’s head.

“Let’s finish decorating it later. First, how about some of my famous chili? I’m starving.”

Starsky took Hutch’s hand and led him to the kitchen.

“Did you remember to lighten up on the tabasco this time?” Hutch asked as he hovered over the stove while Starsky held up the spoon to taste.

“Starsky!” Hutch yelled. He hurried to the sink and gulped down a mouthful of water from the faucet.

“Sorry, I guess I got a little carried away,” Starsky admitted, patting Hutch on the back. “You okay?”

“I’m okay,” Hutch laughed as he wiped his mouth on his sleeve. “I suppose one compromise per season is all I can ask for.”

Starsky leaned in for a kiss, savoring the lingering taste of hot sauce on Hutch’s lips. He drew back, slowly smoothing his thumb along Hutch’s mouth before taking Hutch’s hand.

“Come with me and I’ll show you one thing I’ll never compromise on.” Starsky led Hutch to the bedroom, past the shimmering tree in the corner.

“Oh, yeah? What’s that?” Hutch asked.

“It’s a new tradition.” Starsky wasted no time pulling off Hutch’s shirt and pants. “Tradition number four.”

“This I have to hear. What’s tradition number four?” Hutch tugged at Starsky’s shirt and tossed it on the floor.

“Tradition number four…” Starsky repeated as he stepped out of his jeans and pulled Hutch onto the bed. “…is we get naked every night until Christmas.”

“You’ve got my attention. What about after Christmas?” Hutch asked, encircling his arms around Starsky.

“It will be another year filled with whatever memories we want to create,” Starsky said, tightening his squeeze. “I promise, it will never get old.”

As they slipped into bed, Hutch’s firm erection pressed against Starsky’s leg, and his smooth lips caressed Starsky’s body and neck. “I love you,” Hutch whispered as their bodies merged and their passion surged, sending Starsky over the brink of bliss. It was a synthesis of all things at once; of hard and soft, old and new. There was nothing to give up and everything to gain. Starsky floated in the afterglow as Hutch stroked his tangle of curls and he descended back to earth.

“Hey, Starsk. You want to put the ornaments on the tree now?”

Starsky smiled, enjoying the sensation of Hutch’s kisses. “Should we start tradition number five and decorate it in the nude?” he asked.

Hutch paused as he seemed to consider the idea. “How about we wear our robes, but nothing underneath? In case the neighbors look in.”

“Deal,” Starsky said as he rose and took the matching red robes from the bedpost, pulling one on himself and handing the other to Hutch. “Besides, if we start that tradition, the tree will never get decorated.”

They entered the living room and Starsky opened the bin of decorations that he had pulled out earlier that day. As they took out each one, they reminisced about previous Christmases until each ornament was hung. Starsky completed the adornment with the yellow star, reaching up and placing it on top.

Starsky grabbed the remote control and fiddled with the settings. “What do you think Hutch, clear or color tonight?

“How about all the lights at once? It’s the best of both of us,” Hutch replied, wrapping his arm around Starsky. “Hey, what would you say if I put on the fire, set down some cushions, and I’ll serve you some spicy chili in front of the tree?”

Starsky arched an eyebrow and smirked. “I’d say this tree is giving you some excellent ideas,” he kissed Hutch’s cheek. “Before you think I’m a total Scrooge, I made a batch of mild chili just for you. Be right back.”

Starsky headed to the kitchen, the warmth of the glowing lights and the sound of Hutch’s laughter filling his heart. He turned and saw Hutch adjusting the pillows on the floor, getting comfortable, and loosening the belt on his robe. “Oh, yes,” Starsky smiled, “this tree and its glorious compromise of colors is going to work out just fine.”

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