December 11th: Mashed Potatoes and Mistletoe by babs

“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?”

Starsky felt a tinge of anger at the question. He didn’t know if Hutch would ever manage to give up the need to mother hen since Gunther. But he quickly squashed it—it was Christmas after all. He’d survived—Hutch had too. “Yeah, babe. Besides, didn’t I show you how up I could be last night?”

Hutch laughed. “Point to you.” Then he got out of bed. “I’ll go make us coffee and put out some cookies.”

Starsky nodded, pulled the blankets closer and turned over. “Hey!” He let out an indignant cry as Hutch slapped his butt. “I thought I was getting breakfast in bed.”

“We’ve got to be at the mission by eight-thirty and it’s already seven. Our version of breakfast in bed will end up being something more. I’m sure that Sister Michael and everyone else would appreciate us not walking in smelling of sex.”

“You never know,” Starsky said as he pulled himself out of bed when Hutch went down the stairs with far more noise than necessary. He heard cupboard doors banging and then a “damn it” as something clattered to the floor.

Silly him thinking that a house where they had more room than their two apartments combined would be quieter—especially when Hutch decided to wake up all bright and cheerful at the break of dawn. Still… Starsky took the time to look out the window of their bedroom. It faced the ocean even if you could only make out the merest glimpse of blue on a sunny day. But on their salaries combined, they had to settle for what they could afford, and this two story house in an older most established neighborhood suited both their tastes. Starsky didn’t feel like they’d settled at all. Hutch’s expression of joy when he’d seen the space for a garden had been all it took for Starsky to say yes to the place. He knew Hutch had done the same when Starsky discovered the extra large storage closet that would be perfect for a darkroom.

He whistled as he headed for the shower. He had the feeling this Christmas would be one of the best ones of his life—starting with a breakfast of Christmas cookies. Maybe Hutch was starting to loosen up and let go after all.

“This is really all you wanted for Christmas?” Hutch asked as he drove them towards the mission.

“Yep,” Starsky said. “Besides I already got my gift months ago.”

Hutch nodded and stopped to let a woman laden with packages pass in front of the car. “Life.”

“Not life—although if I hadn’t—it’s you, dummy.” Starsky looked at Hutch, watched his jaw tighten and his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed hard. “You ever wonder if Gunther hadn’t shot me, if you ever would have admitted you loved me?”

“Me? I was just waiting for you to make the first move. You gotta admit, Starsk, you can be awfully slow.”

Starsky put his hand on Hutch’s thigh. “Slow and easy. That’s me. Also devilish charming.”

Hutch coughed. “If you don’t stop, we’re never gonna make it inside the mission. Besides you’ve never been slow or easy.”

Starsky pulled his hand away and looked straight ahead. “Maybe I’ll ask for another present when we get home.”

He smiled as he saw Hutch’s cheeks redden and take a hand off the wheel to tug at his t-shirt neckline.

However, once they arrived at the mission, it was all work and no play. Some of the women cooking sang Christmas carols and Hutch got roped into helping Sister Michael and Father Jeremy place the finishing touches on the dining hall—stringing lights and tinsel and placing little wrapped packages of socks, gloves, and hats on each chair.

Starsky perched on a stool, peeling potatoes. It brought back memories of his dad sitting at the kitchen table, peeling all the potatoes for his ma to make her wonderful latkes. The smell of the pies baking in the oven reminded him of Aunt Rose’s and Uncle Al’s Christmas dinners where they’d bake for the neighborhood.

“You okay, Starsk?” Hutch asked, his hair curling up in the steamy kitchen.

“Terrific.” Starsky nodded so he’d know it was true. “How’s the decorating coming?”

“Done.” Hutch grabbed a potato and held out his hand for Starsky’s knife. “Why don’t you take a break? Get something to drink—and get out of this heat.”

Starsky sighed and handed the knife over. He kept quiet as he stood—if he let out a groan from the stiffness of hunching over for the past hour or so, Hutch would go on high alert.

One of the women handed him a cup of coffee and a slice of homemade bread with butter and jam as he walked by. He went into the dining hall and leaned against the wall while he ate.

The room had transformed into a cozy wonderland of twinkling lights, brightly colored packages, and sparkling silvery tinsel draped from the rafters. The huge Christmas tree in the corner held handmade decorations from the children of the parish and wrapped toys and clothes for the kids who wouldn’t have Christmas otherwise. He and Hutch had donated a lot of those gifts themselves.

“More coffee?” Hutch held up a pot that held just enough to top off Starsky’s mug.

“I’m gonna float away.” Starsky shook his head. “The potatoes on the stove?”

“Yep.” Hutch set the pot down on the table and took a sip from his own mug. “What you been doing out here?”

“Remembering Hanukkahs at home, Christmases out here.” Starsky shrugged his shoulders.

“We should have gone to New York,” Hutch said. “Maybe your mom would have wanted to stay instead of going to Florida for December and January.”

“Aunt Irene wasn’t going to let her say no again,” Starsky said. “I didn’t hear you suggesting we go to Duluth.”

Hutch shivered. “Are you crazy? You’d really want to go to Duluth this time of year?”

“I could have kept you warm.” Starsky pulled Hutch into a hug. “I’m good for something.”

“You’re good for lots, babe. Don’t forget it. Mom and Dad had plans anyway. Going somewhere warmer for a tropical Christmas, they said.”

Starsky reluctantly released Hutch, aware that there might be prying eyes. He grinned as he swatted Hutch on the ass. “We’d better get back in there and get to work.”

Starsky grinned at the familiar and unfamiliar faces that came through the serving line as he added a scoop or two of mashed potatoes to each tray. A brief respite allowed him to watch Hutch weaving in and out of the tables, a pot of coffee in one hand, a pitcher of ice tea in the other.

He looks like one of those angels they’ve got upstairs in the stained glass, Starsky thought. All bright gold hair and a glow about him that just radiated love and caring. And Hutch loved him. Him—David Michael Starsky. Sometimes he wished he could stand on top of the highest building in Bay City and scream it to the world—I love Hutch and he loves me.

“Hup. Where’s Starchy?”

Starsky fell down from the heights to the kitchen of the mission to see Eddie Hoyle looking at him with a slight frown.

“He’s givin’ out coffee, Eddie. Merry Christmas.” Starsky plopped an extra large scoop of mashed potatoes on the tray. “He’ll be happy to see ya.”

Eddie nodded. “Bye, Hup.” And as he moved down the line, Starsky heard him mumble. “Just don’t seem right not seeing the two of ya right together.”

Doesn’t feel right either, Eddie.

Starsky lost track of how many more people came through the line and decided he didn’t want to eat mashed potatoes for a long long time.

“You need to sit down. C’mon, Starsk.” Hutch pulled him away from the line as one of the older men came to take his place. “You look like you’re ready to drop over.”

Starsky allowed Hutch to guide him to a chair and hand him a glass of iced tea. It was possibly the best tea he’d ever tasted. He closed his eyes and felt Hutch rest his hand on his nape, fingers massaging the base of his skull. If he didn’t take care, he might just melt into a puddle at the soothing touch. Then Hutch squeezed his shoulder and disappeared.

Next thing Starsky knew Father Jeremy was there, shaking his hand and saying thank you to both of them for all their help and wishing them both a Merry Christmas and Happy New Year, and then they were out in Hutch’s car and driving towards home.

Home–white picket fence and all. Okay it wasn’t exactly a white picket fence—it was more gray than white and the pickets were actually six foot high wooden boards slowly being overtaken by some strange vine Hutch had planted when they first moved in in late summer. All Starsky knew was that in the spring Hutch said there would be purple flowers on it. Until then, it was just green.

“You doing okay?” Hutch asked. “You looked pretty tired in there.”

“Yeah. Feel like I’m getting my second wind.” Starsky patted Hutch’s knee. He resisted the very strong urge to move his hand further up the thigh. He knew every spot that turned Hutch on. Wouldn’t do to be in an accident on the way home.

“First thing I want is a shower,” Hutch said as they turned onto the street that led them home. “And then…”

“I want a shower too, even if I did take one earlier. I smell like mashed potatoes. I didn’t even know a person could smell like mashed potatoes. Ya know, maybe we should do our part to conserve water and take a shower together.” He waggled his eyebrows but it was lost on Hutch since he didn’t even look Starsky’s way.

“Maybe we should.” Hutch turned into the driveway and parked. “It’ll save on the water bill too.”

“By the way, you owe me,” Starsky said as they walked up to the front door where a wreath festooned with jingle bells and a red plaid bow hung.

“I owe you? I thought you said no presents. I followed your instructions to the letter. What could I possibly owe you?”

Starsky wrapped his arms around Hutch’s waist, kissed his salty, sweaty neck. He pulled him closer as Hutch managed to unlock and open the door and they stumbled through, arms around each other. “Mistletoe. You didn’t kiss me under the mistletoe this morning.”

Hutch kicked the door shut with one foot. “I guess I’ll have to make it up to you then.”

Starsky moved his hands up, cupped Hutch’s face and began to show Hutch just how it should be done.

“Surpri…” The shout of many voices fell to a hush.

They nearly tumbled to the floor. Hutch stepped back, would have fallen had Starsky not grabbed his arm. Hutch’s breath come out in a real honest to goodness squeak—a sound he’d never heard from Hutch in all the years he’d known him. His own breath sounded loud and harsh.

His senses seemed magnified a thousand times as he took in the sight of shocked faces and… oh God, oh no.

“Ma?” Huh. His own voice could squeak too. It hadn’t done that since he went through puberty.

Meanwhile, he spied two other figures he’d only seen in pictures—tall, blond, and blue-eyed.

“Mom? Dad?”

Starsky swore he could hear Hutch’s heart beating as he stood beside him.

“Davey. Oh my Davey.” Esther Starsky’s voice broke the silence and suddenly the frozen tableau shattered into splinters.

Starsky was gathered into a hug by his mother, her hands pulling his face down for a kiss. He breathed deep, inhaling the scent of her shampoo—familiar from childhood.

Beside him, Hutch got pulled into an embrace by both his parents, Hutch’s mom dabbing at her face with a lace handkerchief and Hutch’s dad patting his son’s back.

Starsky disentangled himself from his mom’s hug and straightened. He looked over at Hutch whose face was bright red—all the way to his ears—and whose eyes were a suspiciously brighter blue than usual.

He took in the other faces in the house as if in snapshots—Rosie Dobey, all decked out in red velvet and growing up way too fast, Cal Dobey, home from his first semester of college, Edith Dobey a strange expression Starsky couldn’t interpret on her face, Dobey, dear God, their captain, tugging on his tie and unbuttoning the first button on his shirt collar, and Huggy, in the back, arms crossed, and a knowing grin in full bloom on his face.

His mom kissed his cheek once more. “Oh Davey. You look wonderful. So much better than I thought you would.”

Hutch’s mom still sniffled beside him as Hutch patted her shoulder awkwardly. “Mom. You don’t need to cry.” Hutch’s dad looked nearly as awkward as Hutch did.

He coughed to get Hutch’s attention. Hutch glanced at him and barely nodded.

“We’re gonna have to excuse ourselves to change. I’m sure none of you want to smell mashed potatoes for the rest of the day.”

Hutch nodded at the gathering. “Uh. Yeah. We’re gonna do that.” He waved a hand. “Um. Make yourselves at home. Won’t be long.”

He took off at a near run, and Starsky followed him just as quickly, pretty sure his own ears were as red as Hutch’s. He swore he could hear everyone talking about them as he followed Hutch up the stairs.

Hutch was already in the bathroom–door shut but thankfully not locked.

When Starsky peeked in, Hutch stood at the sink, hands wrapped on the porcelain, knuckles white.

“What are we going to do, Starsk? My parents, oh my God, my parents saw us kissing. Dobey saw us. Rosie and Cal Dobey saw us.” His breath hitched. “Edith. How can we explain that… us… kissing?”

“First of all, you are going to take a few deep breaths.” Starsky placed one hand on Hutch’s belly.

“I guess we have to go back out there sometime. Unless we both crawl out the window or something,” Hutch said.

Starsky laughed. “Sure. That’s what we’ll do, Romeo. Run away and hide from our families.”

“Stop laughing. It’s not funny. Your mom saw us kissing. Aren’t you the least bit concerned?”

“The way I look at it, it’s already done. Not like we can put the cat back in the bag.” Starsky shrugged his shoulders before moving his hands to Hutch’s waist. “C’mon, babe. Relax.”

“Says you. You were just as shocked as I was, weren’t you? You were blushing.”

“Okay. Sure. But we can’t take the kiss back. Hutch, we live together—bought a house together. Do you think Dobey and your parents and my mom are that dense?”

“I wish.” Hutch pulled away and took off his shirt, dropped his pants and kicked them into a corner of the bathroom. “I guess we’d better get cleaned up.”

“Yeah. Wanna shower together?” Starsky began stripping off his own clothes although he folded his neatly before putting them in the corner.

“What is wrong with you?” Hutch whispered. “Our parents are out there. We can’t…” Hutch twirled his finger towards their groins. “There are kids here. And my mom and dad… my parents didn’t even kiss in front of me and Sarah.”

“No offense, Blintz, but I sure ain’t turned on by you when my ma is in the living room. But we’ve got guests waiting and it’ll be quicker together. Now get in and get moving.”

It was the quickest dual shower they’d ever managed, helped along by them doing their best to studiously ignore each other. At least he didn’t smell of mashed potatoes and sweat any longer.

When he came into the bedroom toweling his hair dry, he found Hutch throwing clothes out of dresser drawers.

“Hutch?”

“Where is it? She’s gonna be upset if I don’t wear it. Did you see it?”

Starsky picked up a few t-shirts and placed them on the bed. He resisted the urge to fold them. “Depends. What is it?”

“The blue sweater my mom sent me two Christmases ago. You know, the one she knit for me.”

“The one you said looked like a monkey…” Starsky shut up at the glare sent his way.

“Don’t you dare say a word.” Hutch pointed his finger for added emphasis.

“I’m not a kraken.” Starsky pulled his own favorite blue and white striped shirt out of the closet.

“A kraken?” Hutch stopped in his frantic search.

“You know, a kraken. A moron, an idiot. Because I’m not saying anything about your sweater. ‘Sides you look good in blue.”

“It’s cretin, you cretin,” Hutch said as he held up the blue sweater in triumph. “A kraken is a sea monster.” Then he muttered under his breath in a way he probably thought Starsky wouldn’t hear, “Maybe this will keep her mind off The Kiss.”

Starsky knew in Hutch’s mind their not so private kiss had achieved capital letter status. He finished dressing and sat on the bed to watch Hutch. “See. I was right. I’m not a cretin or a kraken.”

Hutch shook his head and tugged at the sweater hem which insisted on flipping up. “Sometimes I think you… nah… you wouldn’t.”

Starsky grinned. “Wouldn’t pretend I didn’t know certain words to let you feel superior?”

“You’re a jerk, you know that?”

“But ya love me anyway.” Starsky got up and grabbed Hutch’s hand. “C’mon let’s gird our lions and go gild the lilies.”

His deliberate mis-turns of phrase worked just as he hoped as Hutch’s worry gave way to a chuckle and then a full-bodied laugh.

Starsky couldn’t help but notice the hush that came over the room when Hutch and he reappeared. Huggy seemed to be the only one willing to meet their gaze without embarrassment. He winked at Starsky as he tilted his head towards their parents who shared the couch.

“Ma? Mr. and Mrs. Hutchinson? What made you decide to come out here for Christmas?” Starsky pulled out the piano stool and sat down on it while Hutch leaned against the door frame—right under the mistletoe, Starsky noted. He wasn’t sure if Hutch was Making a Statement or so discombobulated he was oblivious. “You said you were going to Florida. And Hutch said his parents were going on a tropical vacation.”

“Your friends were all so kind,” his mom said. “They said they wanted to do something nice for your Christmas and invited me.”

“Same here,” Mr. Hutchinson said. “Since Kenny never bothered to even call with his plans.” That comment was accompanied by a direct blue gaze sent his son’s way. Well at least he knew now who Hutch got the same talent from.

“You know your Kenny. He can get kind of distracted.” Starsky spun on the stool.

Hutch cleared his throat. If Hutch’s eyes had been daggers, Starsky would have been stabbed in the heart multiple times.

The silence fell over the room once more.

“Do you and Uncle Dave always kiss under the mistletoe, Uncle Ken?” Rosie Dobey piped up. “Since you hung it right at the front door. Oh, you have it at the bottom of the stairs too.”

Starsky looked at her—he didn’t trust that twinkle in her eyes or the smile on Edith Dobey’s face. Although he certainly had been as world wise as she was at the age of ten. Living in a small apartment didn’t allow for much privacy—he knew where baby Nicky had come from. Thankfully his parents had been smart enough to lock their bedroom door that night.

“Uh…um… you see, Rosie…” Hutch appeared like he wanted to sink through the floor.

“What Uncle Ken is trying to say is…” Starsky looked at Dobey, trying desperately to read the other man’s expression. Dobey tugged on his tie once again. He seemed to suddenly find the decorated tree fascinating to look at.

“He’s under the mistletoe now. Are you going to kiss him again?” Rosie continued. What had happened to the sweet, innocent little girl who wanted nothing more than a big bear and ice cream for her birthday? How could she have grown up so much?  And Edith—Edith Dobey sat smiling like the cat that ate the cream—he didn’t even know Edith could look smug but there she was—smug and looking way more pleased than she should considering she’d seen them kiss.

“You do love each other, don’t you?” Donna Hutchinson asked.

“As if I hadn’t figured out that Kenneth loved you from the time he called and asked me for the recipe for your favorite meal,” his own mom chimed in.

“Every time you called us, Kenny, all you talked about was David. When he was shot, you sounded as if your whole world had suddenly disappeared,” Karl Hutchinson said.

Hutch glanced up at the mistletoe and moved out from under it—closer to the piano stool. “Yeah. I guess I did. But…we… Starsk and me…we’re…”

Starsky felt Hutch’s sigh as if it was his own.

“A couple,” Starsky’s mom said. “Are you happy, Davey? Ken?”

What could they do to that but nod agreement? Pretending they were just two bachelors living together wouldn’t work any longer.

“Yeah,” Starsky said. “I’m happy, Mom. Very happy.”

“Mom. Dad. I wanted to tell you. I was going to, but somehow…” Hutch’s shoulder was warm against Starsky’s. Starsky felt the tension release as Hutch shifted his weight. “I’ve never been happier.”

Into the silence that followed, Huggy spoke. “Now that’s all out of the way, I hope everyone is ready for Huggy Bear’s Christmas Spread Extravaganza.” He headed for the kitchen, but Starsky didn’t fail to see the grin on their friend’s face.

Starsky got up as Hutch sent a worried glance his way. “Please don’t let there be mashed potatoes.”

“I don’t even want to look at food,” Hutch whispered. “Maybe we can just push food around our plates and talk a lot.”

Donna Hutchinson had made little place cards—something that didn’t surprise Starsky considering how much Hutch spoke of his mom loving to entertain.

He sat between Hutch’s mom and his mom, while Hutch sat with Rosie Dobey and his own dad.

Starsky looked at the laden table—turkey, sweet potatoes, two kinds of stuffing, various vegetables, rolls, and butter. A peek into the kitchen showed their small kitchen table filled with an assortment of pies, cakes, and cookies.

Dobey offered a quick prayer of gratitude. Starsky was suddenly ravenous and took some of each dish as it got passed around the table. He looked across to see Hutch had done the same. He winked as his partner caught his eye.

Hutch nodded and turned towards Rosie as she started telling him about the gifts she’d received from her parents.

Starsky listened to Donna Hutchinson talk about her two grandchildren and then his mom tell him about Nicky’s latest girlfriend.

“A dancer—can you imagine, Davey? Nicky dating a ballet dancer.” His mom shook her head in disbelief even though Starsky had his doubts about the kind of dancing Nicky’s girlfriend did.

But he nodded agreeably and added comments where needed. Mostly he observed the way Karl looked across the table at his wife—his expression softening each time he watched her speak. A blinding realization hit him as he suddenly recognized Hutch had been looking at him the same way long before either of them confessed their love. He hoped he’d wake up to that soft gaze each morning for more years than he could count.

“Why don’t we wait to have dessert?” Hutch announced when everyone had pushed back with groans from the table.

“I’ll make some coffee.” Starsky shooed his mom, Donna, and Edith towards the living room when it appeared they would offer.

Dobey rolled up his sleeves and began gathering plates. “I’ll do the dishes. Cal, you’ll help.”

Starsky hid a smile as Cal slouched his way to the kitchen sink. He’d heard about Cal’s new girlfriend, sure that Cal itched to be on his way to her house. He filled the coffee maker and joined everyone else in the living room. Hutch patted the seat next to him on the sofa.

“Mr. Brown?” Edith Dobey suddenly spoke into the comfortable silence. “I do believe you owe me twenty dollars.”

Dobey came into the living room carrying the pot of coffee with Cal trailing behind with a tray of mugs and creamer.

Huggy mumbled something that Starsky couldn’t catch. “What’d you say, Hug?”

“He said betting pool,” Cal helpfully piped up.

“What betting pool?” Hutch looked at Starsky, bewildered.

“You cats believe no one ever once questioned if you were a couple or not?” Huggy asked.

“People were betting on me and Starsk?” Hutch’s voice rose.

“The odds were in your favor,” Huggy added. “It’s just been a matter of proof and who saw it first.”

“But…Edith, I can’t believe you gambled on us,” Starsky said.

“I can’t either,” Dobey said.

“I did tell you, Harold. Months ago. I was certain from the time I saw Ken with Dave after Dave got out of the hospital. Even though I suspected before that.”

“You bet against us, Cap?” Starsky asked.

Dobey coughed. “Not like I could bet for you. Even if everyone else was. And Edith told me if she ever caught me betting again, she’d…” Dobey apparently changed his mind as Rosie and Cal appeared to be hanging on every word. “She wouldn’t be happy with me.”

“The guys from the station helped us set up two bedrooms when we moved in together,” Starsky said. “I bet it was Babcock. He never can keep his mouth shut with all his weird theories. He probably started telling everyone.”

“He is a detective, Starsky. Just like you and Hutch. Did you think we all have been blind down at the station?” Dobey said. “Everyone knew the extra bedroom was just for show. Babcock only said what we all thought. Cal, let’s get back to those dishes. They won’t do themselves.”

“Kenny, David—I brought my camera along. I don’t have any recent pictures of either of you.” Karl said. “Hurry up. My coffee will get cold.”

“Yes, Dad. Starsk—we may as well get it over with. He won’t be happy until he shoots a whole roll of film.”

Starsky stood with Hutch, their arms slung over each other’s’ shoulders.

“No. Not there. The lighting isn’t good enough. Move a little to the right.  Back two steps. Just a smidge to the left.”

“He always like this?” Starsky asked.

“Like what?” Hutch said through gritted teeth. “Bossy?”

“Like you,” Starsky whispered.

“Okay, son. David, you too. Smile.”

Starsky blinked away the flash sparkles when Karl finally finished his photos. He dropped his arm from Hutch’s shoulders and started to walk away.

“No! Uncle Dave. Uncle Ken. You can’t!” Rosie yelled out. “You’re under the mistletoe. You have to kiss. Daddy says it’s a Christmas rule.”

“Oh well, in that case,” Starsky told everyone. “Wouldn’t want to disobey Captain Dobey’s orders.” He grabbed Hutch around the waist before he could take even one step.

“Starsk. In front of everyone?”

“I love you. Of course in front of everyone. You heard Rosie. It’s a Christmas rule. Everyone knows you can’t ignore Christmas rules. Now lets you and me show them how it’s done.” He gave Hutch a gentle peck on the lips. “You know, I might have to make sure you know what a great kisser I really am.”

And he proceeded to do exactly that.

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