It's Light Out

by CC

"Hutch, wake up."

"Huh?"

"Wake up. It's here."

"What's here?" Hutch blinked himself into wakefulness and his partner's dark, glittering eyes lurking mere inches above him.

"Christmas! It's here."

"Starsk, you already woke me up at midnight to tell me that." Hutch closed his eyes and tried to roll over, but couldn't with Starsky draped across half his body.

"And you said wait until morning. It's morning." Starsky's impatient reply was accompanied by an attempt to force Hutch's right eye open using his thumb and forefinger. "Wake up."

Hutch swatted Starsky's hand away. "What time is it?"

"I don't know. It's light out."

"What time?"

"Early."

"What time?"

"Ten 'til six."

Hutch opened his eyes fully then. "Starsk, it's gray out at six in the morning, not light. C'mon, let's sleep for a few more hours."

"No way. Besides, what time do you wake me up every morning trying to get me to go jogging with you?"

Hutch groaned, knowing where they were headed. "Six," he muttered.

"And what do you always say?"

"'Get your lazy ass out of bed?'"

"No, after that. When I ask you what time it is, you always say 'it's light out.'" Starsky grinned triumphantly.

"Oh. Well, that's different."

"Look at you. You can't even say it with a straight face."

Hutch shrugged good-naturedly. "I tried."

"And you did a good job." Starsky patted Hutch's shoulder. "Now, can we please get up and open our gifts? I think I know what's in the one wrapped in that shiny green paper. It's either a wallet…."

Starsky continued jabbering away, but Hutch found it difficult to hear him over his own heartstrings, which had suddenly come alive in a joyous swell of emotion.

This time last year, I was ready to strangle him two days after Thanksgiving. Now I wish almost every day could be Christmas if it would make him this happy.

As the monologue going on in front of him grew more animated, Hutch trailed his fingers across Starsky's chest and then down his arm, amazed again at the firmness of the muscles that a mere five months ago had been soft and unformed. Gunther's bullets had nearly killed him, but through sheer will and tenacity, Starsky had come back.Hutch smiled, remembering the many times he had stopped to pick up Starsky from physical therapy and found his face shrouded in dark fury over some limitation he had failed to defeat that day.

The 'black days,' as Hutch had begun calling them, had never lasted long; Starsky wouldn't allow it. He simply pushed harder and harder until he overcame that particular obstacle.

And now he's getting what he wanted. Hutch's smile faded as he felt the now familiar tightening in his chest. He says he's ready to go back on the streets. The Review Board says he's ready.Every goddamned doctor he's got says he's ready. But dammit--I'm not ready.

A shift in the body half-blanketing him caught Hutch's attention. He looked up to find Starsky scowling. "…and you're not even listening to me."

"Sorry." Hutch quickly reached up to smooth away the frown lines. It was their first Christmas since the shooting, and he wanted it to be good, especially for Starsky. "It's your fault, you know."

"My fault?" Starsky's expression grew softer as Hutch caressed his brow.

"I get so caught up watching you sometimes…it's like you have this spell over me."

Hutch could tell by the look he got—half wisdom, half amusement—that Starsky wasn't fooled.

"You're such a bullshitter," Starsky said without any trace of rancor.

"Yeah, but you gotta admit, I'm pretty good at it."

"Very good."

"Damn straight," Hutch said softly, then moved his hand up to the back of Starsky's neck. "C'mere."

Starsky let his head be pulled forward to rest against Hutch's chest. It was a position familiar to them both, and Hutch smiled again as he bent to kiss the curls that tickled the underside of his chin. The skin of his abdomen came alive as Starsky's hand skimmed

across it, stopping in the center of his chest. Not for the first time, Hutch wished the moment could go on forever. Let the felons and the freaks take the damned city; Starsky would be safe there with him.

"It's all good now, isn't it, Hutch?" Starsky whispered. "Everything's perfect."

"Yeah," Hutch whispered back, wanting to mean it.

Several minutes passed before Starsky spoke again. "I'm ready, Hutch," he said quietly.

"I know."

"Then why's your heart racing ninety to nothing? And why'd you have such a scared look on your face just now?" Starsky raised his head, the steady confidence in his gaze nearly taking Hutch's breath away. "I can back you up, Hutch. I wouldn't even try--"

"Don't you think I know that?" Hutch's words came out harshly, the emotions he was feeling too close to the surface to catch in time. He took a deep breath and tried to will his heart to normal rhythm. "Starsk, you're just as good as you were before the…before. I know that. And I know you're excited about going back to the street. I'm excited for you, too—I swear I am--, but…" The words stuck in Hutch's throat.

"But you think you're not ready," Starsky said calmly as a knowing smile played across his lips.

Hutch closed his eyes and shook his head. "I'm not ready," he whispered. "I tried to be, but I'm not."

"Bullshit."

That wasn't the response Hutch had been expecting. He opened one eye to find Starsky grinning like a loon…or a crocodile—Hutch wasn't sure which. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me. That's another bullshit answer," Starsky said in a tone that welcomed no argument. "And don't start telling me about some stupid spell, either. The only spell here is the one you've put on yourself."

Eyes wide open now, Hutch started to argue but Starsky's hand slipped over his mouth. "No, lemme finish. You're every bit as ready as I am to be partners again--maybe more. You're scared, though, and I understand that." He slowly pulled his hand away from

Hutch's mouth. "I was scared, too."

"Was?"

"Okay, I'm still a little scared. But you know what, Hutch? I can't really remember a time when I wasn't a little scared of something, and I finally figured out that that's just part of life. There's always something to be scared of. Doesn't matter whether it's being

afraid of you getting hurt or me getting hurt--in our line of work, that just happens and we accept it. We've always known that."

"Sure, but I don't…I can't…it's harder now. There's so much more to lose." There it was again, that pressure in his chest that threatened to suffocate him. Hutch felt Starsky's hand start gently stroking his chest. He hated showing this weakness, hated even more

that Starsky might think it was because of any doubts he had about him.

"That's not the way I see it. You wanna know what I think, Hutch?" Starsky's head dropped to Hutch's chest again, his face pressed so close that he could feel his lover's eyelashes when he blinked. "Just think about where we were this time last year. All

the shit we were pulling on each other. Scares me to think that something might have happened to one of us back then -- you know…something permanent—before we had a chance to get everything straight between us. Seems to me we had more to lose back then." Starsky tried unsuccessfully to stifle a yawn. "At least now we know where we stand and what we stand for. Not knowing that scared me a lot worse."

As he allowed Starsky's words to sink in, Hutch thought about the Christmas before. They hadn't even spent it together; in fact, they had barely even acknowledged it. Hutch had been in the final stages of recovering from a gunshot wound, and Starsky had just dealt with his troublesome younger brother. Neither of them had been in the mood for any celebrations.

If he thought about it in Starsky's terms, Hutch realized that he had been afraid. A small part of it was related to the job but like Starsky said, that was just part of the deal, and it kept them alert and careful. Hutch had been far more afraid that Starsky would find out his true feelings, that his desire for something more would surface and destroy the partnership. He'd fought that fear by retreating so far inside himself that he had almost destroyed their partnership on his own. Those had been dark days, before Starsky's

shooting opened their eyes to what was real and what mattered most.

Starsky shifted slightly, burrowing his shoulder between Hutch's arm and chest. "What's the verdict?" he asked around another yawn and turned faux-innocent eyes up to his lover.

"You know damn well what it is, you scheming bastard," Hutch said with a smile.

Starsky returned the smile. "Look at it this way. If the worst happened tomorrow and one of us was...you know...then at least we're better off knowing how we really feel about each other. At least we had a chance to live it for a while."

Staring up at the ceiling as the words sank in, Hutch was aware of the exact moment when the sensation in his chest turned from that oppressive tightness to an almost overwhelming sense of joy. There were unvoiced fears still lurking in the shadows, but they were quickly being supplanted by what was real and tangible. He and Starsky had fought their way out of the darkness and as Hutch saw it in that moment, they were looking at nothing but blue skies ahead.

Something wet found its way to Hutch's chest. For a moment, he thought it was Starsky's tongue, but then the wetness dribbled down his side. Hutch looked into the mirror over Starsky's bed and wasn't surprised to discover that the man bouncing with enthusiasm earlier had fallen back to sleep. "Hey, beautiful. I'd rather you drool over me than on me," Hutch said teasingly.

"Huh? What?" Starsky awoke with a start.

"Nothing. Thought you wanted to open gifts."

"Oh. Thought you wanted to go back to sleep."

"Are you kidding?" Hutch slid out of bed, then leaned back over his now-smiling lover. Placing a soft kiss on Starsky's lips, he smiled back. "It's light out and I'm ready now."

The End

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