December 21st: Telling Secrets to Spider Plants by Suburbanboho

Starsky slowly stirs awake, stretching out cramped legs. He squints at the sunshine coming in the window, rubs his eyes and sighs. This is the third night this month that he’s spent the night on Hutch’s couch, and the month is only a little more than halfway over.

His excuses have ranged from being too tired and a little drunk after watching a movie to a bad date that left him ‘stranded’ in the area.

His latest one was convenient car trouble. He knows he’s lucky that Hutch doesn’t have much car knowledge and hadn’t noticed that a spark plug wire was conveniently loose when Starsky had put on a show of opening the hood and testing out the rough running car.

Eleven months after Gunther’s attack, Starsky is continuing to wrestle with the idea that what he feels for Hutch is so much more than friendly. Sure, Hutch is his ‘best friend in the whole world’, but it’s been continually dawning on Starsky that he wants more.

He feels like he needs more.

This is the man that knows him better than anyone ever has, and understands him in a way unlike anyone else. This feeling has been churning deep inside for years now but he’s always convinced himself that it’s just a deep friendship.

That they are something closer than brothers.

Something special, maybe something that can’t be put into words.

But while still recovering in the hospital, Starsky had woken up to the gentle pressure of someone’s hand holding his.

Without even opening his eyes he knew who it was.

It struck him like a lightning bolt: Hutch was the person he was meant to be with in every way that matters.

Now if only he could screw up the courage to say something.

He knows it’s risky in so many ways. It’s risky to their friendship if Hutch doesn’t feel the same way, but if he does feel the same way, then they are risking everything else.

So it gets buried deep in a corner of his thoughts. Only occasionally does he peel back the layers and really ponder that idea. He tries not to consider the negative too often. He likes to think about the positive outcomes: breakfast together, not having to come up with excuses to stay over, getting to sleep in the same bed, holding Hutch close in the night. Sharing even more moments than they do now. He keeps the worries cut back and tends to the hope for more, as often as he feels he can without going completely off his rocker.

Starsky glances at his watch and sees that it’s nearly ten o’clock, and he hasn’t even heard Hutch around the apartment at all. Normally on a day off if Starsky were to be asleep this late in the morning, Hutch would have made it known that he doesn’t appreciate Starsky still taking up sofa space. A correction coming with a pillow to the face, and more than likely a gentle shove punctuated with a sarcastic comment.

Which means Hutch is keeping himself occupied.

Starsky swings his legs off the couch and pushes to his feet. He hastily gets dressed and decides that finding Hutch should probably be his next step.

The sound of Hutch singing draws Starsky to the greenhouse.

He finds him hunched over the potting bench separating out a spider plant, and singing softly to it, completely oblivious to everything. Starsky leans on the doorframe, watching fondly as long fingers gently push back leaves and separate the plant at the roots. There is something so soft in his motions, a contrast to Hutch’s general commanding presence, and like a school kid with a crush, Starsky can’t help but watch, fascinated and taking in every detail.

“I talk to the trees, but they don’t listen to me. I talk to the stars, but they never hear me. The breeze hasn’t time to stop and hear what I say. I talk to them all in vain.”

Starsky wonders if the wistfulness he thinks he is hearing in Hutch’s voice is directed toward anyone. And if so, who is the lucky lady?

Since the shooting, neither of them has dated anyone. Surely if there was someone that Hutch was longing for, he’d have let Starsky in on that part of his life. They always did before.

Starsky tries to tamp down feelings of jealousy. He knows he should let Hutch know he’s awake and watching him, but there is something so endearing about watching this process. There is something so methodical and graceful about Hutch’s movements.

As he moves the delicate offshoots to their new pots, Hutch continues to sing, and Starsky continues to listen and admire. He feels like he should say something, let Hutch know that he’s there, but it really is mesmerizing.

It would almost be like interrupting something sacred.

“But suddenly my words reach someone else’s ear, at someone else’s heart strings too. I tell Starsky my dreams and while he’s listening to me, I sud–”

Starsky quickly ponders the change to the lyrics that he remembers from being dragged to see Paint Your Wagon nearly a dozen times by some nameless, faceless girl over a decade ago. A small smile spreads across his face as he comes to understand what this means.

This realization jolts him out of his thoughts and Starsky backs out of the doorway in shock. He’s so stunned by what just happened that he collides with the record player and knocks an empty beer bottle off the edge of it. The shattering sound makes it very obvious that he’s awake and has been listening.

Hutch rushes in looking wide-eyed and frantic, blushing furiously. “Damn it! Christ, Starsk…I…how long have you…?” Hutch runs his fingers through his hair, looking at Starsky like the world’s come to an end.

“We do have a chance!” Starsky exclaims, his grin growing. He wants to say something more eloquent and detailed but that’s the first thing that comes to mind. He laughs, a giddy laugh of relief and excitement. He reaches out and grabs Hutch by the arm, and kisses him lightly on the cheek, knowing that this will have to be a slow thing.

What he isn’t expecting is for Hutch to recoil slightly, then step back in Starsky’s space with index finger raised. He shoves Starsky’s shoulder, and the look of shock is gone from his eyes, the embarrassed flush gone. Instead, there is a blue fiery flame in Hutch’s eyes and his face is now red with anger. He shoves Starsky once more.

“You jerk! I know it’s not something we’ve ever talked about, and not something that could happen, but you don’t have to make fun of me for it!” Hutch advances on Starsky. “I never figured you’d be the type to tease me.”

Starsky holds his hands up in surrender. “Blintz, that’s not what I was thinkin’ at all! I swear! I wouldn’t tease about that. Ever! I’ve been thinkin’ that maybe we…” Starsky trails off. Partially because he doesn’t know what to say or how to word it so that Hutch will know he’s serious, but mostly because he can read Hutch well enough to know that now is not the time to talk.

Whatever Starsky says will be either not heard at all or at least not heard how he means it. Hutch’s arms are crossed tight against his chest, and he’s not looking Starsky’s way at all. No need to push the matter further.

“We’ll talk later, okay?” Starsky says.

Hutch just grunts an acknowledgement.

Starsky hovers in the doorway a moment longer, as he remembers the verse that would have followed up the one that Hutch had changed. An idea works its way into the forefront of his consciousness. Something he can do to prove to Hutch that he thinks the same way, feels the same way, wants the same things.

“I’m going, alright. Just… come by my place tomorrow, ’round seven?”

Hutch relaxes his posture and uncrosses his arms. “Okay. We’ll see.” He doesn’t step toward Starsky, but he doesn’t pull back further. His face is neutral and most of the fire has gone out of his eyes.

Knowing that he needs to take the minor victory and run with it, Starsky lets himself out of the apartment. Trying to process all that just happened, he dashes down the steps, frantically plugs in the loose spark plug wire in his car and heads toward home.

By five minutes to seven the next night, Starsky has the table set, the lights dimmed, and a racing pulse.

He doesn’t think Hutch will be so mean as to not show without calling ahead and offering even the dumbest of excuses, and judging by how Hutch reacted to getting caught changing the lyrics to that song, he won’t be able to deny having done that or feeling the same way.

Even so, Starsky isn’t entirely sure that he’ll be able to pull this off without making a complete fool of himself. It’s also possible Hutch won’t want to pursue this next step even with mutual feelings because it’s such a risk.

But it’s got to be said, at least put out there in the universe. Because the alternative is sitting on this information, letting it fester and causing a rift between the two of them until the friendship is lost.

And that is one gamble he’s never going to take. They’ve almost lost each other too many times.

So, with one more glance to make sure everything is ready, he less than patiently watches the minutes tick by on the clock.

At almost seven o’clock exactly, there is a knock on the door.

He opens it and finds Hutch standing there. It’s hard to read the expression on Hutch’s face except it’s softer and less angry than it was when Starsky had left Venice Place the day before.

Starsky steps back and gestures for Hutch to come inside.

“Starsk, about the other day, I-I um…” Hutch starts the moment he steps across the threshold.

Starsky steps in front of him and gestures for him to be quiet. “Just close your eyes, and walk a few steps toward the kitchen. Don’t open them, yet.”

With no hesitation, Hutch does as asked. His brow stays furrowed–Starsky can make out how deep the ridge between his eyebrows is–but he keeps his eyes closed and steps toward the kitchen. Starsky stops him with a hand on the shoulder.

He crosses the room and lights the candles on the table. He tosses the match into the ashtray and starts to sing, altering the verse slightly to fit the situation better.

“I can see us on some April night, looking out across my backyard.” He walks back to Hutch and takes him by the arm, guiding them both to the dining table. “Having supper in the candlelight, walking over arm in arm.”

Starsky leans in. “Open your eyes, Blintz,” he whispers.

Hutch does as directed and opens his eyes slowly. “What’s…?” He looks at Starsky and across the set up table at the candles, a bottle of champagne, and a bouquet of mixed yellow and red roses.

“Are you okay? Is this okay?” It’s one of those rare times it is surprisingly hard for Starsky to read Hutch. He looks like he’s frozen in place, occasionally opening his mouth to speak and then shutting it again.

Hutch blinks a few times before finally speaking. “Uh…I’m just overwhelmed. Are you saying what I think you’re saying?” His voice is a little thick and in the candlelight, Starsky can see that Hutch’s eyes are lightly shining.

“If you think I’m sayin’ that I’m as crazy about you as you seem to be about me, then yes.” Starsky gently pulls Hutch just a little closer. “You said once we spend three-quarters of our time together, well, how’d you like to make it the whole dollar?”

Hutch closes the remaining distance between them. He takes Starsky’s hand in his and lightly traces the spot between thumb and forefinger, causing a shiver to go up Starsky’s spine. He meets Starsky’s gaze, and in the candlelight, Starsky takes a moment to admire how soft-yet-strong Hutch’s features are, how gorgeous those blue eyes are, and how much the candlelight makes his hair shine.

Starsky runs his fingers through Hutch’s hair. He takes Hutch’s hand in his and kisses the tips of each finger lightly. He wraps his arms around Hutch and pulls him closer. Quietly, Starsky starts to sing the very last verse. “I tell you my dreams, and while you’re listening to me…”

With a slight thickness in his voice, Hutch joins Starsky in the last lines, their voices blending in the candlelit room, finding their own perfect harmony. “I suddenly see them come true.”

Starsky leans in and kisses Hutch tenderly. Hutch returns the kiss with matching gentle warmth.

It’s more than a dream come true.

You can hear this song from Paint Your Wagon on YouTube here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nn8YubD01sk