Champagne Wishes

By CC

"Detective Starsky, if you’re thinking about kissing my bride, you might remember that her new husband was the Academy boxing league champion." Barry Norris tried to look threatening, but couldn’t carry it off because he was just so damned happy.

Laughing at cherub-faced Norris' attempt to glare at him, Starsky circled his arm lightly around the bride’s waist. "Yeah, Barry, but a quick smooch with Leslie would be worth taking a punch or two." With a smirk at Barry, the brunet quickly leaned forward and planted a chaste kiss on Leslie’s cheek. "Of course, if Leslie had been in our class at the Academy, she probably would’ve beaten us both."

Stepping between his bride and Starsky, Barry chuckled. "I’m glad Leslie didn’t train with us. You probably would have swept her off her feet. She wouldn’t have given me a second look. Now back away before I hurt you"

Starsky smiled as the newlyweds enjoyed a tender kiss. Barry Norris and Leslie Greer had both worked with Starsky and his partner, Hutch, at various times over the years, and they often met for drinks or dinner. Now that Barry and Leslie were assigned to the 7th precinct, the foursome didn’t see each other often, but remained friends. The couple had dated for two years and surprised no one when they sent out wedding invitations.

The late-afternoon ceremony had been moving in its simplicity, the love between the bride and groom evident in their emotional exchange of vows. Starsky even thought he heard a sniffle from Hutch. The big softie.

"Hey, the honeymoon doesn’t start until you get to Hawaii," Starsky joked, glancing at his watch. "And if you don’t get going, your plane’s gonna leave without you!"

"Jeez, Les, he’s right! We should start saying our goodbyes now."

The couple had opted for the small, informal wedding in favor of a ten-day Hawaiian vacation. The ceremony was held at the beach house they had purchased about a year earlier. More cottage than house, it was situated on a somewhat isolated stretch of beach about thirty miles north of Bay City.

Before they moved towards the small group gathered on the deck, Leslie grasped Starsky’s hand. "I can’t tell you how much I appreciate you and Hutch agreeing to housesit and pet-sit for us while we’re gone. Neither one of us wanted to put Pete in a kennel for almost two weeks." Leslie’s lower lip started to tremble. "I hated to kennel him even for today, but there were just so many people...It was just as well, though. He was due for shots and a good grooming." Pete, the couple’s beagle, was treated almost like a child. For over an hour earlier in the week, Starsky had listened to instructions on the care and feeding of Pete.

"Leslie, we’re glad to do it. Not only does it save Pete from that awful Doggy Motel, but it gives us a chance to see how it would be to commute into BC from this distance. Hutch is always talking about trying to find a place on the beach. "

"Where is Hutch, anyway?" Leslie glanced around. "I want to thank him before we go."

Starsky scanned the deck, not finding his tall, blond partner either. "I don’t know." He nudged her towards the deck. "You and Barry start with the goodbyes. I’ll find Hutch."

After looking inside the house for his partner, Starsky returned to scan the deck and surrounding area. Where did that big goof ball go? He better not have run off somewhere. I’ve got big plans for him tonight. Starsky approached the steps leading to the beach, but Barry stopped him.

"Starsky, we’ve really got to go. Tell Hutch how much we appreciate what you guys are doing and that we’ll see him when we get back. Oh, and tell him he missed his only opportunity to give Leslie a congratulatory kiss."

Turning back to exchange a handshake and a quick guy-hug with Barry, Starsky quickly gave Leslie another kiss. "Don’t worry. We’ll spring Pete tomorrow as planned. He’ll be fine."

Before Leslie could issue more instructions for taking care of Pete, Barry began pulling his bride down the path towards the car. The few remaining guests, also moving to their cars, called out their good wishes. The caterers were quickly packing away their supplies and completing their cleanup.

Starsky stood for a moment and watched the departing parade before turning back to the beach. In the gathering dusk, dark blue eyes quickly scanned the coastline. No Hutch. A whisper of worry began to work its way through his stomach. In the dim light left in the day, Starsky spotted something at the bottom of the stairs. He descended the steps to the beach.

Reaching the bottom of the stairs, Starsky discovered an empty champagne bottle. Jeez, you’d think guests would be a little more considerate. Better check it out and make sure they didn’t leave anything else. Like Hutch.

Trudging around a small rocky bluff to his left, the brunet was relieved to see the silhouette of his partner. Hutch was seated on a large flat rock, back resting against the bluff, long lean legs stretched in front of him. The last rays of sunlight caught the fine blonde hair, creating the illusion of a halo around his head.

He looks like an angel. Starsky’s breath caught in his throat. Sometimes he still couldn’t believe this magic he had found. He and Hutch had been lovers for a couple of years, yet the intensity of their feelings uncovered new layers and depths of emotion every day. Like today. Starsky was sure Hutch had been fighting tears as Barry and Leslie exchanged vows. The big softie.

For a few minutes, Starsky just stood and gazed at the graceful outline of his partner’s body. Starsky knew that the slim frame was only an illusion; under those clothes, his partner’s body was firm, muscular and gorgeous. And mine. The longing for his partner’s closeness pulled him like a magnet along the beach.

"Hey, sailor. Come here often?" Nothing. Starsky moved closer and crouched at Hutch’s side. "Hey, Hutch. Whatcha doin’ down here by yourself?"

"Whu.…" As Hutch turned to face him, Starsky discovered just who had left the empty champagne bottle on the steps. Hutch’s normally brilliant blue eyes were made brighter by the effects of what Starsky feared was an entire bottle of champagne. Right then, those riveting blue eyes were having a little trouble with focus. The blond tried to lean forward toward his partner, but stopped when he felt himself losing his balance.

"Hey, buddy, easy there. Why don’t you sit back and tell me why you’re down here havin’ a party all by yourself?" Starsky cupped his left hand around his partner's face and used his right hand to rub along Hutch’s arm.

"Nothin’ to tell; just felt like gettin’ away for a little while. S’ nice here." Hutch tried unsuccessfully to suppress a hiccup. He relaxed in his improvised chair, holding his right arm out at shoulder level. "C’mere."

"Oh, so we’re feelin’ a little romantic, are we?" Starsky asked, obliging Hutch by snuggling into position.

"Jus’ a little bit." A sly smile briefly crossed the blond’s face. "Maybe jus’ horny."

Starsky laughed. This man he loved had so many dimensions, but the rarely seen silly Hutch was one of Starsky’s favorite layers. Hutch was usually so intense and introspective. Starsky relished those rare occasions when his partner would just let all his worries and thoughts go even for a brief period of time.

"Well, don’t get your hopes up, or anything else for that matter, blue eyes. I’m a gentleman. It would be dishonorable to take advantage of a man in your condition."

"Maybe you’ll change your mind before the night’s over." Hutch curled his arm around Starsky’s neck and lightly cuffed him on the jaw before leaning back and gazing up at the stars that slowly peeked out through the night sky. Starsky turned slightly to snuggle more closely, resting his head on his lovers’ chest and drawing lazy circles across Hutch’s firm abdomen. They sat in companionable silence enjoying the peaceful moment.

"Nice ceremony, huh?" Starsky asked, concentrating on his circles.

"Yeah, I guess. Nice...." Starsky felt rather than heard the hitch in Hutch’s breathing as he spoke.

"Ya don’t fool me for a minute, pal. I heard you sniffling. Nice save. Thought I was gonna have to give you my hankie." He turned up to smile at his lover and froze.

A single tear fell from Hutch’s eye. He was biting his lip in a vain effort to stop more from following.

"What’s wrong?" Starsky immediately sat up, wiping away the tear from Hutch’s face.

"Nothing. Everything. I don’t know." Hutch tried unsuccessfully to turn his face away.

"Hutch, c’mon, something’s wrong. You left a nice party to come down here by yourself. You killed a perfectly nice bottle of champagne. And now you’re crying, for God’s sake. You. Mr. Stoicism. Tell me what’s buggin’ ya."

"It’s dumb."

"Whatever it is, I’m sure it’s not dumb. C’mon, tell me."

Another hiccup. A flash of heat in the light blue eyes. "It’s just not fair, Starsk."

"What’s not fair? What happened?" The dark blue eyes searched his partner’s face.

"Why can’t we have what they have?"

"What who has, baby?"

"Them. Barry and Leslie." Hutch spoke the newlyweds’ names wistfully, almost reverentially.

"What do they have that we don’t? Help me out here." Starsky resumed the gentle rubbing along Hutch’s arm. "I didn’t even have any champagne, but I’m still havin’ trouble following you."

"Y-you were here. You saw the looks on their faces. They were so h-happy to be with each other."

Uh-oh, thought Starsky, stuttering is not a good sign. Something big was bothering his partner.

"What, Hutch? You’re not happy that we’re together?"

"Oh, God, Starsk. What we have is great. I am happy that we’re together. But today when I was watching them say their vows, I realized that we’re not together like Barry and Leslie are together. And w-we never will be. And that just sucks."

"Hutch, I still don’t get it. Why do you think we’re not as much a couple as Barry and Leslie? Hm-m?" Starsky lowered his head, trying to look up to catch Hutch’s eye. He couldn’t figure out what was bothering this partner of his. Besides the obvious gender difference, he couldn’t think of anything that he and Hutch didn’t have in their relationship. Trust, respect, passion, honesty. These had always been fundamental elements of their friendship, their partnership at work, and now their partnership at home. As far as Starsky could tell, the only real difference between the two couples was the wedding today.

Bingo. Starsky was sure his heart had stopped as he realized what was bothering Hutch. Oh, God, he’s changed his mind about us. He does want the wife-n-two, the dog, the picket fence, the-- Starsky’s train of thought stopped as he remembered Hutch’s words. He said he was happy with me, so I don’t think he wants to marry someone else. Hell, I’d marry him if I could, but ...well, shit, Hutch is right. This sucks.

Starsky leaned up and placed a light kiss on Hutch’s forehead. "Tell you what, buddy. You’ve had about half a bottle of champagne too much and nothing I say is going to make you feel any better right now. How ‘bout we go up to the house and put you to bed?"

"Don’t know if I can walk. My legs are kind of numb." A snicker and a small grin tugged at the corner of Hutch’s mouth.

"Well, you can lean on me. But, hey, do me a favor. The next time you want to tie one on, don’t go to the bottom of the stairs."

As he helped Hutch move into a somewhat vertical position, Starsky was compelled to wrap his arms around the blond’s waist, holding him still for a moment. He looked into his partner’s eyes and held his gaze long enough to whisper, "If what we have now isn’t enough, Hutch, I’ll do whatever it takes to make it enough."

Starsky was relieved as Hutch pulled him close, wrapping his arms around Starsky’s shoulders and nuzzling the top of his head. The dark springy curls tickled his nose.

Hutch laughed and swooped down, planting a wet, sloppy kiss on Starsky’s forehead.

Wiping his forehead with the back of his sleeve, Starsky rolled his eyes as he began moving the couple towards the steps. "Gross. Hutch, that was definitely the least sexy kiss you’ve ever given me. If that’s the best you can do tonight, I think I’m glad you’re too drunk to get it up."

"Who can’t get it up? The night’s still young, Starsk. Not only can I get it up, I can keep it up ‘til –" Hutch suddenly pulled up short. The telltale gulp and the slight circular motion his upper body made told his partner that things were about to get real ugly.

Hutch was able to get about three steps away before bending over and allowing the champagne to make a curtain call. He was able to remain upright only because Starsky slipped in behind him and wrapped an arm securely around his stomach.

When he thought his partner was finished, Starsky straightened and then steered his partner towards the steps. "My God, Hutch, you just get sexier by the minute, don’t you? I can’t wait to see what your next seductive move might be."

"Starsky, make the stairs quit moving around like that," Hutch groaned.

"Buddy, the stairs are bolted to the rocks. They’re not moving at all. You’re just getting a good case of the spins. Keep going. We’re almost there." Starsky was mostly pulling Hutch along, knowing if they stopped, his partner was going to be sick again.

When he had successfully maneuvered them to the top of the steps, Starsky propped Hutch against the newel post and stopped to catch his breath. His forehead was beaded with sweat, but the cool breeze coming in from the ocean was quickly taking care of that.

Though he was tempted to rest there a few minutes more, his partner’s knees appeared to be weakening. Starsky decided he could rest after he got Hutch securely tucked in.

"C’mon, buddy. Past your bed time."

"’kay." Hutch started fumbling with his shirt buttons.

"Whoa, partner. We’re not quite there yet. C’mon, those doors on the right lead to our room. No, Hutch, the other right." As his partner continued to undress, Starsky steered him towards the open patio doors. Thank God for small favors; I’m glad I don’t have to try to guide him through the house.

By the time they reached the bedroom, Hutch had managed to get his shirt unbuttoned, but was struggling with getting it off his arms.

"Dummy, you forgot to unbutton the cuffs. Just sit down and lemme get your clothes off."

"Thought you weren’t going to take advantage of me. Knew you’d change your mind,"

Hutch snickered and sat down on the bed. Seeing his lovers’ crotch at eye level now, Hutch reached out and reeled it in until his face was pressed against the soft material of Starsky’s pants.

Knowing that Hutch was in no condition to go the distance, Starsky gently moved his partner’s head back a few inches. "Not tonight, Romeo. At least not until you’ve sobered up some."

Although he had managed to toe out of his shoes, Hutch was now staring at his belt as if it were a complicated piece of machinery. His fingers fumbled with the buckle. Suddenly, he snorted, "Starsk, I might be a little drunk."

"Might be? Hutch, I’d say you’re pretty much shit-faced. Now listen to me. Do you need to go to the bathroom? Want something to drink? Something without alcohol? Once I get you tucked in, I don’t want to have to help you get up again."

"Nah, I just need to brush my teeth. Got a bad taste in my mouth."

"Okay, you keep playin’ with your buckle there and I’ll bring you some mouthwash. Will that do for now?"

"Yeah, that’ll do." Hutch tried to nod, but turned slightly green with the effort. Starsky grabbed the trashcan next to the bed and handed it to his partner.

"Be right back. Try to hit that if you can." After making a quick trip to the bathroom, Starsky returned with the promised cup of mouthwash and a wet cloth. He was thankful that Hutch had not gotten sick again and his color was returning to normal. Hutch still had not figured out the complications of his belt.

Starsky gave him the cup of mouthwash. "Here, swish and spit it into the can."

After his partner had complied, Starsky gave his face a quick swipe with the cloth.

"Allright, Hutch, that’s gonna have to do for your evening beauty routine. Lay back. I’ll do the rest." Starsky guided his partner back on the pillow and easily undid Hutch’s belt and pants. And was brought to an abrupt halt.

"Uh, Hutch? Will you answer a question for me?" Rubbing his eyes, Starsky turned to see his lover looking back at him, sweetly drunk, with a goofy grin on his face. "Were you wearing underwear when we got here?"

With the slightest shrug, Hutch sighed, "Was gonna be ready for ya."

"Well, it was the thought that counted, I guess."

"Could still try...." Hutch’s eyes blinked slowly.

"Nah, you fought the good fight, but it’s just not in the cards tonight. Go to sleep." Starsky watched his partner’s eyes close before he even finished speaking.

He smiled and leaned over to place a firm but gentle kiss on the blond's forehead.

"G’night, Romeo. Rest well, for tomorrow we talk." He pulled the covers up and turned out the light.

As he closed the house for the night, Starsky’s mind replayed the beach conversation with Hutch. He thought he understood what was bothering his partner, but he was at a loss to come up with a solution. He didn’t know how to make their relationship enough for Hutch like it was for him.

But is this really enough for me either? Carefully, Starsky examined the question. Face it, haven’t there been times when you thought this whole thing with Hutch felt like it was only temporary. Like we’re just following it along on some meandering

path. No, it’s not meandering. I believe with all my heart that me and Hutch will be together for the rest of our lives. I just need to convince him. Show him. The seed of an idea planted itself in Starsky’s mind.

Moving to the bedroom, Starsky stripped down to his shorts. He climbed into bed, immediately spooning himself against Hutch’s back.

"Hope you enjoyed your bachelor’s party tonight, buddy." Starsky smiled serenely as his eyes drifted shut.

The shrill ringing of the telephone interrupted Starsky’s most pleasant dream of what he had planned to do last night to and with his partner. The phone shrieked again, eliciting a low moan from beside him. Starsky reached across the lump of bed covers he presumed to be his partner to grab the receiver.

"H’llo."

"Aloha!" Barry Norris’ booming voice shattered the morning stillness. "Greetings from the islands!"

"Norris, you moron, you’re on your honeymoon. Why are you callin’ here?"

"Leslie just had to call the vet and check on Pete this morning. Seems he has a little fever and the vet wants to keep him another night."

"Norris, we would have found that out when we went to pick him up today."

"Oh, yeah. Well, I just wanted to leave you our number in case anything comes up. It’s the only way I’m going to get Leslie to quit worrying about Pete." The smile in Barry’s voice was evident.

"Okay, let me get a pencil and then you can go back to your bride. Tell her if anything changes with Pete, we will definitely call." Starsky rummaged around in the nightstand drawer, retrieved a pencil, and copied Barry’s information. As he hung up the phone,

Starsky smiled, remembering how happy Barry and Leslie were yesterday after their wedding. And how unhappy Hutch was.

Another low moan from under the covers. Hutch had something else to be unhappy about this morning.

The lump of bedcovers shifted slightly. "Sta-sky?"

"Yes, Hutch?"

"Do you have your gun here?"

"Yes, Hutch"

"Will you shoot me with it? Please?"

"Yes, Hutch."

"What??!" In a great flurry, the bedcovers flew and the body of Ken Hutchinson sat upright in the bed. The look of concern on his partner’s face made Starsky snicker. That combined with Hutch’s usual bad case of bed-head caused him to laugh out loud, rocking back and forth on the bed.

The movement of the bed sent the blood draining from Hutch’s face. Fortunately, Starsky stopped rocking even while he couldn’t quit smiling.

"Jeez, I feel like shit."

"What a coincidence, you look –" Starsky wasn’t able to finish the sentence as his throat was encircled by his partner’s hand. Pretending to gasp for air, Starsky pushed up, gently rolling Hutch onto his back.

"Mornin’." Sparkling dark blue eyes met puffy lighter blue eyes. "I’m glad to see you survived."

"Did I? I wasn’t sure."

"Yeah, you’re still here. You want to talk about what brought that on?" Starsky brushed his hand over Hutch’s fine blond hair, smoothing the worst of it into place.

"I’m not even sure myself. Whatever it was will probably go away as soon as this headache does. Oh, that helps." Hutch closed his eyes as Starsky gently moved his fingers up the temples and across the forehead in smooth light strokes, pushing the pain away.

After a few minutes of his partner’s gentle massage, Hutch’s eyes opened again. "Toast."

"Toast?"

"Yeah, toast. I think I could eat some toast."

"If you’re sure, I’ll fix it. But I better not slave over a hot stove—" Starsky saw a hand reaching for his throat. "Okay, okay, I’ll fix your damn toast. You can have the shower first."

After breakfast, they sat on the patio enjoying the ocean view. Starsky was relieved to see that his partner was feeling better this morning. Though he occasionally rubbed his head, for the most part, his mood had seemed positive...even peaceful. Starsky tried again, "Hutch, are you sure there’s nothin’ you want to talk about?"

Hutch sighed. "Starsk, sometimes I wish for things I just can’t have. Even if the reasons aren’t fair or right, the reality is that I just can’t have everything I wish for. Usually I can accept it. But I guess yesterday the champagne just made me wish out loud. Just forget it. I love you and I’m very happy with you."

"Hutch, our relationship is every bit as valid and real as what Barry and Leslie have."

"But without the marriage." The tiniest crease appeared on Hutch’s forehead, driving Starsky to action.

"Hutch, their marriage didn’t start yesterday. That was the wedding. Don’t confuse the two. The marriage started when – I don’t know – one day they looked at each other and decided this was it. This was the one person they did not want to live their lives without.

This was the person whose love they would fight for, die for even. This was the person who was worth risking everything else for. The person they wanted to grow old with, to live every day with...." The tiny crease remained, but Hutch was looking straight into

Starsky’s eyes.

"Baby, don’t you see," Starsky moved to kneel in front of Hutch. "You are that person for me. I want to marry you. We’ll do the wedding later when the rest of the world catches up with us. Or we won’t do the wedding. It doesn’t matter, because the marriage can be just as strong with or without it."

"Kenneth Hutchinson?" Starsky shifted to one knee, taking his partner’s hand.

"Yes, Starsky?" Hutch’s tremulous reply was a mere whisper.

"Will you marry me? Will you take me as your partner, forsaking all others, through sickness and health, ‘til death do us part, did I leave anything out?"

As Starsky finished his proposal/vows, Hutch leaned forward to crush his partner against him. His body shook, whether from tears or from laughter Starsky couldn’t tell, but when he heard Hutch croak out "Yes!!" his own body began to shake as well.

When their emotions were brought under control, Hutch gently pulled Starsky’s face up to look into his partner’s eyes. "David Starsky?"

"Yes, Hutch?"

"Will you marry me back?"

"I married you a long time ago, Hutch. But for the official record, yes, I will marry you."

Seeing the light that graced his partner’s face, his shining eyes, his now crease-free forehead, Starsky allowed himself a brief moment’s regret as he let go of the plans he had envisioned for a romantic candlelit ritual that night. That small crease in his partner’s forehead had sparked a need in him to put an immediate end to Hutch’s sadness. I hope I can always grant his wishes this easily.

"Starsky?"

"Yes, Hutch?"

"I think I can get it up now."

"Yeah, seems I’ve heard that before." As Hutch’s hand lightly circled his throat, Starsky leaned over and planted a wet, sloppy kiss on his partner’s forehead.

"Gross, Starsky. Why’d you do that?"

"I owed you that one. C’mon, Romeo, the honeymoon has officially begun." Starsky stood and pulled his partner to his feet. Arms around each other's waists, they moved in unison towards the open patio doors.

"Starsk, we should celebrate. I wonder if there’s any champagne left...."

A muffled, but definite "no" escaped the closing patio doors.

*

The End

 January 22, 2002

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