December 23rd: When You Care Enough to Send the Very Best by Dawnwind

Starsky flipped through the address book, locating H for Hutchinson. He chuckled because, sure, he knew where his favorite Hutchinson lived, but there were more than one.

Checking twice on the house number, he wrote the full address for Richard Hutchinson on the envelope. Slashing his John Hancock inside the card with the cheery picture of deer munching on a green, snow dusted tree decorated with holly berries, he pushed it into the done-for-now pile.

“What ‘cha doing, babe?” Hutch padded up behind him.

“You’re a detective.” Starsky turned his head enough to get a peck on the cheek and return the endearment. “What do you think?”

“I thought we were going to eschew all the traditional trappings of Christmas, and focus on ourselves this year,” Hutch said, a slightly stressed but resigned expression registering when he observed the two piles of cards.

Starsky nodded, well versed in all Hutch’s usual obfuscations about the holiday. Hutch couldn’t quite align himself into conforming with the commercial, constant bombardment of holiday sentiment in December. When alone, exchanging gifts, singing Christmas carols together or watching Miracle on 34^th Street together, he was fine. He enjoyed the happiness of the day, but objected to having it force fed on the public as a mandate for family festivities. “I’m all for that.”

“It’s over a year since you were reinstated on the force, we’ve had a great 1980…” Hutch began, stopping when Starsky tapped him on the lips with a pen and handed him a pile of cards.

“Put your illegible scrawl on these,” Starsky directed. “And I’ll make you a cup of spiked eggnog.”

“You wrote one for my dad?” Hutch asked softly, sitting down for the job. “After what he said…”

“He was outta line.” Starsky addressed one to Karen Hutchinson and her boyfriend/possible fiancé, Mark Atkins. “But he’s still the only dad we got between us.”

Hutchinson senior had implied they were deviants and performing illegal acts that could get them arrested, at the same time hugging his son one last time with a glint of tears in his eyes. Starsky had seen the evidence himself.

“Starsk.” Hutch sighed, clearly understanding. “I just—”

“Stuff changes,” Starsky continued with confidence. His own mother had accepted them as a couple with open arms. Nicky, not so much, but there’d been a posturing in his macho bravado, and a longing look as if he wished he could find true love that had convinced Starsky that there was a small opening in their future. Louise Hutchinson, who had worked as a nurse in the ER for decades, had been reserved but loving. She knew. Like his own mother, he was fairly certain Louise had known before he and Hutch had come out to their families. Karen was a sweetie, and in love herself. There’d been no problems there.

“You think he’d come around?” Hutch said with such distress.

Starsky gripped the hand Hutch was holding the pen with. “We’re strong and he’s stubborn. We wear him down like water over a rock—slow,” Starsky said, smiling. “Takes time.”

“One Christmas card at a time. Communication,” Hutch agreed.

“Keeping the door open,” Starsky said, gazing at him, grateful to his bones that he had Hutch in his life.

“You’re smarter than people think.” Hutch smiled at him with those astonishingly blue eyes. “Now where’s that eggnog you promised? I see there’s a big pile of cards to sign.”

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