The Way to a Man's Heart

By CC

Starsky switched off the Torino's ignition and wondered if he could get away with spending the night out here in the garage. He glanced at the packages resting in the passenger seat and instantly felt his stomach flutter. As the ticks of the cooling engine grew further apart, he gave brief thought to going inside but quickly gave it up in favor of reconsidering his options. There weren't many, so it didn't take long.

"Option A," he reasoned out loud with himself. "I can just carry the bags in there and say 'Happy Valentine's Day. This is my small way of showing that I love you.'" He closed his eyes to imagine Hutch's reaction but quickly snapped them open again when his imaginary Hutch fell across the table laughing.

Taking a deep breath, Starsky considered his other option. "Okay, option B. I carry the bags in there and just say, 'I had a craving for a Chateau Montelena Chardonnay and Morelli's Black Forest Cake. Wanna share?'" He didn't even have to close his eyes to hear Hutch laughing over that one. Mrs. Morelli's was all the way on the other side of town, and Hutch knew exactly how much a bottle of Chateau Montelena cost.

"I hate this shit." Starsky leaned forward until his forehead was resting on the steering wheel. 'This shit' was his six-month old sexual relationship with his partner and best friend of nine years. Or was it ten years? He bounced his forehead on the steering wheel. "I'm about to make a complete fool of myself and I'm sitting here doing math."

Groaning, Starsky opened the car door and got out. Still muttering to himself, he stomped around to the passenger side. "How'm I supposed to know how this stuff works?" he asked the lawnmower as he pushed it forward to get to the door. "Ain't like there's a book about it."

His path now clear, Starsky opened the door and retrieved his packages, carefully placing them on top of the car. "He doesn't make it any easier, you know," he confided to the wine. Realizing his hands were shaking, he folded his arms and rested them against the edge of the car's roof. "This is crazy. The worst he can do is laugh, and I survived that once today already."

~ ~ ~

While eating his Cheerios and flipping through the morning newspaper, Starsky had come across an 'It's Never Too Late to Say I Love You' ad. He quickly checked the date and realized that they had forgotten Valentine's Day.

"Hey, you know what today is?" he called to Hutch, who was digging through the refrigerator in search of his own breakfast.

"How could I forget? It's the fourteenth," Hutch backed out of the refrigerator holding up a container of yogurt triumphantly. Grabbing a spoon from the drainboard, he joined Starsky at the table. "The D.A.'s office has called every day this week to remind me I have to testify on the Merritt case today. Let me tell you, I'm not looking forward to sitting around the courthouse all day. You know, with the taxes we pay, it seems the least they could do is get cushions for those raggedy old benches."

Unable to watch as Hutch sprinkled his yogurt with a greenish-brown powder, Starsky tossed the newspaper on the table and carried his empty cereal bowl to the sink. He returned to stand directly behind Hutch's chair and lightly knead his shoulders. "Well, sure, but besides being the all-important 'Officer Hutchinson-Testifies-in-Court Day,' it also happens to be a holiday."

A few seconds later Hutch's spoon clattered to the table. "Oh, God. It's Valentine's Day."

Smiling, Starsky placed a benevolent kiss on his ear. "It's okay. I forgot, too, but like the ad in the paper says, 'It's never too late'."

"Oh, no." Hutch jumped up and backed across the kitchen, his spoon and yogurt held up as shields. "This isn't going to be one of those holidays you expect me to do something about, is it?"

Starsky dropped into Hutch's chair, realizing he should have seen it coming; Hutch had always been weird about holidays. "What could you possibly have against Valentine's Day?"

"You're kidding, right?" Hutch took another bite of yogurt. "Think about it, Starsk. If someone truly cared about you, you'd hear about it more than one day a year, right? But no-o-o," he waved the spoon in the air, "everyone goes around all day declaring their eternal love for each other, even though half of them will probably be with someone else next year. And for the ones that are still together, this one day is supposed to make up for all the sins and omissions since the last Valentine's Day. For twenty dollars worth of candy in a cardboard heart, all is forgiven? It's a bunch of romantic sentimentalism, if you ask me, and it's crazy."

"You're crazy." Starsky stood up and pulled his holster and gun from the top of the refrigerator. Grabbing his jacket from the back of the chair, he took a wide path around Hutch as he passed him to get to the back door. "How you can take a day devoted to the simple idea of love and romance and turn it into something ugly is beyond me. I think it might be fun to celebrate it."

"Love and romance?" Hutch snorted, then laughed out loud. "So what do you want me to do? Buy you box of chocolates…or maybe some perfume? And you'll bring me flowers? I know, " Hutch said, really laughing then. "If you've still got those little black pumps, I'll take you dancing. We'll be a big hit down at Huggy's."

"Hutch," Starsky warned.

"Don't Hutch me. It's ridiculous, Starsk. You want to do something romantic for me?" Hutch tossed the yogurt container in the trash and leaned against the counter, arms crossed defiantly across his chest. "Change the oil in my car."

"I'm going to work." Starsky opened the back door, but stopped for a parting shot. "I hope you get a splinter in your ass today."

"You're confusing sex and romance again, aren't you?" Even after he'd slammed the door, Starsky could hear Hutch laughing.

"Happy Valentine's Day, you dumb shit."

~ ~ ~

In the stillness of the garage, Starsky fingered the edge of the cake box and willed his stomach to calm down. He reminded himself that this wasn't an international peace treaty he was negotiating. What was it Dobey had called it? A bridge, that was it. A bridge between what Starsky wanted and what Hutch could live with. Of course, Dobey hadn't been talking about Starsky and Hutch when he'd said it. At least, Starsky didn't think so.

He'd been surprised when Dobey plopped his lunch tray down on Hutch's desk and sat down. "Quiet around here today," Dobey observed.

Starsky looked around at the empty squad room and went back to picking at his beef stroganoff. He hadn't noticed the room emptying out, but then he hadn't noticed much of anything all morning. His mood had been bad when he'd left home and had gone downhill when he got to work. Dobey had put him to work cleaning up some old case files. Starsky hated writing reports on a good day but without the human dictionary sitting across from him, it was excruciating. To make matters worse, several people had brought in Valentine's cookies and cupcakes, and delivery people had been parading up and down the halls all morning with floral arrangements. The whole place smelled like a funeral home, which fit Starsky's mood perfectly.

"You look like a man with a lot on his mind," Dobey said, tucking his napkin into his shirt collar. "You feeling okay?"

"I'm fine," Starsky answered quickly. Since his shooting, he was sensitive to even the most benign questions about his health.

Dobey looked at him sharply over the top of his cheeseburger. "Good to hear. How are the reports coming along?"

"They're about halfway done."

"Halfway or half-ass?"

Starsky opened his mouth to retort but caught the twinkle in Dobey's eyes just in time. He couldn't help but grin in response. "Probably both, if you wanna know the truth."

"Figured as much." Dobey sipped his soda. "Still, it'll be better than that crap y'all turned in the first time."

Thinking it wise not to comment on that, Starsky forced down a bite of stroganoff. There seemed no point in taking his bad mood out on his captain; he'd wait and take it out on his partner when he got home since the mood was mostly his doing.

"Hey, here's two customers!" Minnie's voice came from the doorway. Starsky looked up to see Minnie crossing the office bearing a covered tray. "We're selling brownies to raise money for The Heart Fund. How many do you guys want?" Minnie lifted the cloth to reveal chocolate-frosted brownies decorated with cinnamon candy hearts. They were Starsky's last straw.

"None for me, Minnie." Starsky reached into his pocket and pulled out a couple of bills. "Here's a donation though."

Minnie's eyebrow shot up. "You don't want frosted brownies? You got a fever, Starsky?" She put a hand on his forehead.

"No, I'm…just watching what I eat, " Starsky fibbed.

"Well, why don't you take some to your gorgeous roommate?" Minnie grabbed a plastic sandwich bag from the corner of the box. "I'll wrap a couple for you."

"Don't." Starsky heard the sharpness in his tone and waited a moment before continuing. "Apparently Valentine's Day is another holiday Hutch doesn't celebrate."

"What's Blondie got against Valentine's Day?" Minnie asked.

Starsky shrugged. "Romantic sentimentalism is what he says."

Minnie and Dobey laughed. Starsky knew he was expected to join in, but he couldn't even fake it. Trying to cover it up, he pretended to drop his napkin and leaned over to retrieve it. When he straightened, he wondered if he only imagined a look passing between Dobey and Minnie.

After Minnie had gone, Starsky and his captain ate in silence for a few minutes.

"You doing anything special for Valentine's Day?" Dobey's question caught Starsky off-guard.

"Uh, no, I don't think so," he responded quietly, then realized he was being impolite. "Are you?" He turned his attention more fully to the man seated across from him.

Dobey shook his head and finished chewing. "School night." He washed his food down with soda. "We've got reservations tomorrow night for Morelli's though."

Starsky whistled under his breath. "Wow, you're going for the big splurge, aren't you?"

"Yeah, Edith loves it for the atmosphere. I go just for the dessert." Dobey patted his belly appreciatively. "Helluva lot different than our first Valentine's Day. Did I ever tell you about that?"

Starsky shook his head, interested in spite of his glum mood.

"Well, I was going through my militant phase when Edith and I got married. I was ready to rule the world--knew everything about everything and wouldn't hear any different. I wasn't about to celebrate a 'white man's holiday' and that's what I told Edith when she mentioned going out to dinner for Valentine's Day."

Starsky laughed. "I'll bet that went over big."

"Oh, yeah," Dobey snorted. "She let me know real quick how wrong I was. We had a terrible fight."

"What did you end up getting her?" Starsky asked, knowing Edith well enough to know that Dobey had lost the fight.

The captain sat back in Hutch's chair, hands clasped around his ample belly. "That was the kicker. Edith didn't really want a gift; she just wanted some acknowledgement of the day. She understood how I felt about things when she married me, but she also knew that I loved her and that underneath all my anger, I wanted her to be satisfied, too. I argued for a while, but in the end, I couldn't see how her having a happy Valentine's Day was going to cause my people to lose any hard-earned ground."

"So you gave in?" Starsky leaned forward, resting his chin in his hand.

"That's one way of looking at it, but it's more like we figured out how far apart we were and then built a bridge in between. We both got what we wanted, or at least what we could live with." Dobey piled his lunch debris on top of his tray and stood up. "Do me a favor; take my tray back when you take yours. I need to run down to the corner for some Rolaids."

~ ~ ~

Starsky tucked the wine bottle under his arm and carefully lifted the cake box from the top of the car. He'd made up his mind. This was his bridge and Hutch probably would have something to say about it, but he ought to be able to live with it, at least. He headed for the house before he changed his mind again.

The instant he opened the back door, the aroma of garlic, onions, sausage and Italian spices enveloped him, almost buckling his knees. He'd know that heady combination of ingredients anywhere, and the knowledge that they were coming from his kitchen filled him with a joyfulness that went far beyond the anticipation of the meal itself. Unless his sense of smell was deceiving him, Hutch had made Starsky's second favorite meal: lasagna.

After stowing his box on the counter and the wine in the refrigerator, Starsky crossed the kitchen for a peek in the oven to confirm his suspicions. He wasn't disappointed; the lasagna was just about done.

Starsky leaned against the cabinet and thought about what this meant. It didn't take long to realize he had no idea what it meant. He went in search of the one person who could explain it: the unromantic unsentimentalist himself.

The living room was dimly lit, but enough light shone from the single lamp in use for Starsky to see that dinner was to be served in front of their seldom-used fireplace. Draped in a red and white checked tablecloth, the coffee table was set for two and held an array of candlesticks from all over the house.

A noise behind him spun him around. Hutch was walking into the room, buttoning his shirt, and seemed almost surprised to see Starsky in the living room. "I didn't hear you drive up," he said quietly, almost shyly.

The sight of his partner dressed in soft black jeans and a black western-style shirt left Starsky speechless for the moment. The small amount of light in the room combined with backlighting from the hallway to frame Hutch's face in golden highlights and Starsky was mesmerized. "Yeah…uh, a little while ago. I…I had to check something out in the car. You must've been in the shower."

His scrutiny was apparently making Hutch uncomfortable, if the restless hand that suddenly fingered the shower-damp ends of his hair were any indication. Starsky wanted nothing more than to take him into his arms for a long, satisfying kiss, but he was suddenly aware of his own unkempt state. "Have I got time for a shower?"

"Sure." Hutch stepped aside to let him pass, and Starsky couldn't resist trailing a hand across his lover's stomach as he did so. "Make it snappy," Hutch ordered, but softly.

Starsky set a personal record for quick showers and taking his cue from Hutch, he dressed casually in jeans and a light denim shirt. When he returned to the living room, Hutch was just straightening up after lighting all the candles. This time Starsky didn't repress his urge, and Hutch was waiting for him, turning the instant Starsky's hand touched his back.

The kiss was slow and sweet, not meant to move further than that moment--there was time for that later--nor to erase the events of the day. It was a simple declaration of love that held both apology and acceptance.

Hutch broke away first. "Sit," he said, indicating the floor pillows he'd placed side-by-side next to the coffee table, then he retreated to the kitchen.

Starsky settled himself on a cushion and had just leaned back against the sofa when Hutch returned with their plates. "I can't believe you made lasagna."

"I hope it turned out okay. We're gonna be eating it all weekend." Hutch smiled as he placed their plates on the table, then leaned over to switch off the single lamp, leaving the room lit by only the candles and the glow of embers from the fireplace.

"Ah, this is nice," Starsky sighed.

"Yeah? Well, what do you think about this?" Hutch fumbled behind him for a moment until suddenly the ceiling was cast in starlight. Starsky hadn't noticed the tiny Christmas lights strung across the ceiling before, but now dozens of clear, bright lights glittered and twinkled above. He wondered how he would ever swallow any lasagna around the lump in his throat.

"You're something, you know that?" He reached over to squeeze Hutch's hand.

"You're something else." Hutch squeezed Starsky's hand in return, then nodded to the table. "Let's eat while it's hot."

Later, Starsky couldn't remember the last time he had enjoyed a meal so much. Not only was the lasagna terrific, but the easy companionship with Hutch was back in full force. They laughed and talked and also fell silent from time to time. Hutch made a huge fuss over the cake and wine, and they both ate far more than was comfortable. It was a perfect meal.

"I'll bet we've got a hundred holes in our ceiling," Starsky said as he reclined against the sofa and stared up at the twinkling lights.

Hutch leaned back to examine his handiwork. "Nah, I used duct tape."

Starsky nodded his approval. The meal was finished, the dishes were dumped in the sink, and the last of the wine was in their glasses. While Starsky had taken the dishes to the kitchen, Hutch had moved their cushions closer together, so that now they sat shoulder to shoulder.

"Hutch, can I ask you something?"

"Of course."

"How'd you get from 'romantic sentimentalism' to homemade lasagna in one day?" Starsky shifted around to face Hutch.

"It wasn't easy." Hutch's sheepish smile widened when he saw Starsky smile, too. "I'd made up my mind we were going to have another talk when we got home tonight, and I was going to try to explain again--a little nicer this time--how I felt."

"What changed your mind?" Starsky reached for his wineglass.

"It was the craziest thing. I was sitting there waiting to be called and thinking of what I was going to say to you when Dobey walked up."

Starsky choked on his wine. "Dobey?" He thought the captain had been hounding him all day, but then a dim memory of Dobey going out for an errand filtered into his mind. "What time was this?"

"I don't know…around one, I guess. Said he had some personal business to take care of." Hutch shrugged.

"And?"

"It was weird. We talked about the case and about you getting caught up on the reports, but then all of a sudden he was talking about Valentine's Day." Hutch shrugged. "At first, I chalked it up to sentimental bullsh--well, you know…" He blushed and shrugged again. "But then he said something that made sense. He started talking about--"

"Let me guess--building bridges?"

"Yeah. How'd you know?"

Starsky grinned and leaned back against the sofa. "Hate to tell you this partner, but I got the same speech."

"From Dobey?" Hutch's eyes widened.

"Yep, it seems our not-so-fair Captain knows more than we thought he did."

"Oh, my God."

"Stay with me, Hutch." Starsky reached over to pat Hutch's thigh. "Looks like he approves."

After a moment, a slow grin spread across Hutch's face. "Or at least it's something he can live with."

~ ~ ~

"Hutch, you still awake?" Starsky's eyes would barely stay open.

"Yeah." Hutch's answer was a breath in Starsky's ear. He pulled his lover's arm more tightly around him.

"Are there anymore sentimentalisms we need to discuss?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, you don't have any other holidays I need to worry about, do you?"

"Well, that depends on what you mean. Let's talk about this tomorrow."

"No, I wanna know now. Like…how about Easter?"

Hutch sighed. "Religious sentimentalism."

"Fourth of July?"

"Patriotic sentimentalism."

"Ever get the idea it's gonna be a long year? How 'bout Labor Day?"

Hutch hesitated before answering. "I like Labor Day."

"Good." Starsky was quiet for a moment. "But there aren't any cards or gifts or parties on Labor Day."

"Very good, you're catching on. Can we go to sleep now?"

"Idiot. One more and be careful how you answer. What about my birthday?"

Hutch was so quiet, Starsky thought he had fallen asleep, but then the arm wrapped around his middle squeezed gently and Hutch whispered gruffly in his ear. "Hutch-is-a-lucky-man sentimentalism."

Starsky smiled and closed his eyes.

The End

Comments or critique welcome at [click on the email button.] I always respond to comments, so if you send a note and don't receive a response, please don't think ill of me. In all likelihood, either I didn't receive your note or my response is floating in cyberspace.

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