June 20th- Tendency To Jam Part 3 by mvernet

Click here to read Part 1.
Click here to read Part 2.

Starsky wondered if Hutch was trying to remember the Sunday night conversation that changed both their lives. Part of him wanted Hutch to remember. But another part was convinced he should leave the force and let Hutch find a new partner that deserved him. That part hoped Hutch would never remember. Leaving his partner after almost killing him Starsky could face. But leaving the man who had freely given him his heart was too much to bear.

“Yeah. It’s just memories trying to resurface, I guess,” Hutch said. “Doc told me I shouldn’t push it. But I got this strange feeling that I’m missing something important.” Hutch looked down at Starsky kneeling at his feet like a loyal knight before a king. He ran a hand over his brown curls.

Starsky closed his eyes.

“This has been hard on you, Starsk. Hasn’t it? You’ve been a rock for me. Putting up with my cantankerous ways and my constant whining. Thank you, buddy. Come up here.”

Starsky stood and found himself embraced by his partner’s arms. He melted and stroked Hutch’s silky hair. Hutch didn’t smell like himself. His new scent evoked images of pain and white sheets and the nearness of Death, waiting for a gun to jam.

Starsky pulled away and tried to hide his panic. “Come on, you marshmallow man. Those drugs are making you more soppy than usual. I’m gonna grab your wheeled chariot and get you the fuck out of here.”

Edith Dobey untied the yellow gingham apron she wore over her sleeveless summer dress after tidying Starsky’s kitchen, then placed the apron on top of her straw purse resting on a nearby chair. She quietly came up behind Starsky who was leaning against the bedroom’s door frame watching Hutch sleep. She reached for Starsky’s hand, nestled it in her own and patted it.

“He looks like a lost angel when he’s asleep, doesn’t he? Sweet and sad at the same time. How’s he really doing, honey?” she said.

Starsky attempted a smile but failed. “Your husband asked the same question. He’s in pain all the time. He’s weak and won’t eat. I’m worried sick.”

“Well, he’s only been home a few hours. Give him some time to adjust. People are always weak and weary after a long hospital stay. And as far as not eating goes? Mr. Huggy Bear Brown and I have seen to it that your fridge is full of tempting food and your freezer is full of casseroles, ice cream cups, and popsicles.”

“Thanks, Edith. Hey, did you get those popsicles shaped like a rocket? I… I mean, Hutch loves those.”

Edith chuckled. “Sure did. Cal and Rosie were jealous in the supermarket, but when I said they were for Uncle Ken to make him better, Rosie said he could have them all.”

“Those kids are beautiful, Edith.”

“They have good hearts, thank the Lord. They have been helping me take care of Ken’s plants. Cal knows them all by name and how to water them properly and Rosie sings to them. I think it’s important for kids to learn to do things for others without always expecting something in return.”

“Well, when Hutch is up to it, we’ll take ‘em to the zoo or somethin’. They should also learn that their uncles appreciate and love them.”

Hutch whimpered in his sleep and tried to get comfortable.

Edith sighed softly. The tougher the cop the more tender the heart. “I have to go, but if you need me to do anything, just call. And I mean it. This is just as hard on you as it is on Ken. If you need some off time, I’ll be here. Everything is labeled in the fridge. I’d start him on Huggy’s vegetable soup, but there is egg salad if you want something light and cool.”

Starsky took her arm after she gathered her things and walked her to the door. He gave her a peck on the cheek.

“Thanks, Edith. You are a treasure. I’d run away with ya, but my boss would murder me.”

Edith’s laugh made Starsky smile. “Flatterer. Get back to your charge. You’ve got your hands full with that big baby.”

“Ain’t that the truth.”

Starsky watched Edith go until she got safely into her station wagon and drove away. A noise from the bedroom had him hurrying to Hutch’s side.

“Starsk? Starsky?”

“Right here, babe. Edith just left. Did our talkin’ wake ya?”

Hutch rubbed his eyes sleepily. Starsky sat on the edge of the bed and put a hand on his covered knee. “No… I… no. I didn’t know where I was for a moment.”

Starsky frowned at Hutch’s disorientation. “You… are with me. You wanna try to get up?”

Hutch nodded and immediately placed a hand across his belly.

“You hurtin’, babe?” Starsky asked, but he could see the answer in Hutch’s eyes.

Hutch nodded again, and sighed deeply. “It always hurts, Starsk. Help me get up.”

Starsky cringed at the words, knowing it was all his fault.

Starsky stood and pulled back the covers on the bed. Hutch was still in his jeans and tee from the hospital. He helped Hutch to sit up and get his feet firmly on the floor. He wiggled his toes into his sandals and Starsky helped him stand. He swayed, gritted his teeth, and held on tightly to Starsky’s shoulder.

“You wanna sit in the kitchen?” Starsky asked. “I’ll make ya some tea.”

“Sounds good, partner,” Hutch responded.

Starsky helped Hutch get settled in the kitchen and busied himself with filling the tea kettle and grabbing mugs from the cabinet.

“So, Starsk. Has Dobey told you what’s going on with the case?” Hutch asked.

Starsky felt Hutch’s eyes on him and he faltered with the tea bags.

“Come on Starsk, I can tell something’s bothering you. Hey, buddy, you’re not still on official suspension are you?”

“No, pal. I’m not on suspension. I’m just on personal leave ‘til you can get around a little better. While you were still in the hospital, Dobey said Connie Hastings’ lawyer got her off. Some of the… evidence got thrown out.”

Hutch rubbed his head as the kettle sang. “You mean my statement didn’t fly.”

Starsky poured the boiling water into their mugs and dunked their teabags up and down. “Well, yeah. But you know abuse cases. They can go any which way.”

“Starsk, I know she asked Stevens to murder her husband. I… I just don’t know how I know.”

Starsky put the sugar bowl and a spoon near Hutch. He retrieved the steaming mugs from the counter, tossed the tea bags, and sat next to Hutch as he placed his tea in front of him. Starsky reached over and rubbed Hutch’s arm. “Hey, it’s not your fault, babe. Don’t kick yourself about it.”

Hutch nodded and added some sugar to his tea then handed the spoon to Starsky who did the same. “What about your gun, Starsk? You cleared to carry yet?”

“Ah, yeah. Yeah, I.A. ruled it a mechanical failure. No negligence. Just gotta buy a new gun, that’s all.” Starsky tried to make it sound simple, like it was an everyday occurrence, when inside he was drowning in guilt.

“Starsk?”

“What, babe?”

“It wasn’t your fault. There was no way you could have predicted your gun would jam.”

“I know, Hutch. I’m okay. Let’s just get you well and put the whole thing behind us, huh?”

Starsky had decided to leave the force. He had no intentions of ever firing a gun again. But first, he had to make sure his partner was properly cared for and had returned to good health. The last thing Hutch needed was added stress worrying about his lousy partner.

“Hutch, Edith said that she and Huggy stocked the fridge with everything you could eat. Ya want me to heat you up some soup? Edith made egg salad, too.”

“I’m not hungry, Starsk.”

“Hutch.”

“The tea’s good. I’ll have something later.”

“Hutch.”

“Starsk, please. Leave it be. I know I have to eat and I’m truly grateful to have wonderful friends who care so much about me. B…but you don’t understand. Even with the drugs, there is a fire in my belly that won’t stop. When I irritate the wound by eating, it… hurts. Bad. I just want some down time. I… Starsk… It…it never stops.”

Starsky was out of his chair, standing in front of Hutch with his arms around him. Hutch clutched him. “Starsk… I’m sorry… I… I can’t…”

“Aw, baby. What can’t you do?”

“Be strong any more. I feel like I’m being tortured, punished for something. Did I… what did I do to deserve…?”

Starsky held him close and rubbed his back gently. The guilt he felt for Hutch’s suffering was a tangible thing. He fought to control it enough to offer comfort. “Hutch, you are worn out and tired of hurtin’. You did nothin’ to deserve this pain. You let it go, baby. You give it to me. I’ll take it all.”

Hutch slowly relaxed and Starsky noticed he was almost asleep in his arms. “Come on, Hutch. I’m gonna get you your pain pills and you’re gonna take a long nap.”

Hutch nodded as Starsky dragged him to his feet and made his way to the bedroom. Hutch leaned heavily on Starsky and he was alarmed at how much weight Hutch had lost. He maneuvered him into bed, held him as he took his pain pills, and crawled in next to him.

Starsky pulled Hutch close as Hutch held on, burying his face against Starsky’s chest. Soon Hutch was limp in his arms. Starsky spent a long time just smoothing his blond hair and thinking about the pain he caused and how hard it would be to leave.

Hutch woke to a gentle touch on his cheek and a smiling partner with a tray.

“‘Mornin’, sunshine! How ya feelin’? Have I got a treat for you!”

Hutch opened his eyes all the way and tried to push himself up, but his arms felt like rubber. Starsky carefully placed the tray at the end of the bed and helped Hutch to sit up, fluffing pillows and tucking in covers.

“Good morning, partner. I feel a little better, but really weak.”

“Well, I think you were exhausted yesterday, babe. You slept right through the night. We are not going to let that happen again.” Starsky reached for the tray and arranged it and himself in front of Hutch.

Hutch peered into the steaming bowl, his face lighting up at the sight of little stars swimming in a butter sauce. It smelled delicious. “What’s this, Starsk?”

“Pastina. It’s a Brooklyn specialty. Tiny pasta stars with butter and a sprinkling of romano. Guaranteed to cure what ails ya.”

“You eat this for breakfast?”

Starsky took a spoonful and tasted it. “Yum… perfection.” He took another spoonful. “Open! Taste!”

Hutch smirked and obeyed. His eyes flew open in surprise. “That’s good.”

Starsky kept feeding him. “Told ya. It’s for when you feel like eating a thousand stars. I used to think it gave me superpowers.”

“You ate this as a child?”

“Sure. All New York kids eat pastina. What do Minnesota brats eat?” Starsky continued to feed Hutch who seemed to be too distracted to notice.

“Corn flakes.”

They both laughed, even though it wasn’t all that funny. It just felt good to laugh together.

Two weeks passed with Hutch slowly regaining his ability to eat solid food, and with each meal he was able to tolerate, he grew stronger. Starsky was by his side literally for every meal, nudging and cajoling him to eat a little more and get his healing sleep. At his last appointment, Dr. Caine had been pleased that Hutch had stopped losing weight, although he still had ten pounds to gain back before Caine would let him drive or go back on the street. The doc cleared him for desk duty the next week as long as he continued to eat regularly and keep stress to a minimum.

Hutch had never thought to question why Starsky wasn’t wearing a piece yet. He felt guilty that he had taken up so much of Starsky’s time, and thought he probably had no time to go shopping. So he decided to take a chance and buy him a new Beretta 92, a 9mm that was considered well engineered and had a magazine release button that was reversible for left handed users. It was similar in the hand as a Smith & Wesson 59, but without the flaws.

He gave Edith a call, who in turn dragged Harold into the surprise for Starsky, making sure the paperwork was filled out properly and picking up the gun. Hutch sprang for a tooled black leather holster and a gun cleaning kit with Starsky’s initials embossed on the front. Hutch also added an inscription on the back of the holster that Starsky would wear close to his heart: Me and Thee, always.

Edith dropped the gift-wrapped box off on her way to church on Sunday morning. Hutch and Edith conspired to meet at the curb and Hutch managed to hide the gift while Starsky was in the shower.

Starsky took an extra long time in the shower. Hutch was returning to duty the next day and he planned on resigning at the same time. He knew he had to tell Hutch sometime today. He couldn’t put it off any longer. He held his head under the cooling shower. He knew Hutch would be hurt, but he’d understand eventually that Starsky still loved him and was doing this for his own good. He prayed Dobey would partner Hutch with someone responsible who would keep him safe, something Starsky had failed to do.

Starsky came out of the shower, dressed in cut off jeans and his old black tee. His hair wasn’t quite dry yet and he absently rubbed a towel through his curls. The aroma of coffee and fresh eggs in the frying pan filled his senses.

As Starsky entered the kitchen, Hutch turned from the stove and smiled. “What kind of omelet you want, Starsk?” Omelets were a current favorite in their household, since Hutch could have plain cream cheese in his and Starsky could have cheddar, onions, and diced tomatoes with habanero peppers.

Starsky gave Hutch a lopsided smile. “The usual, babe.”

Hutch waved his spatula in the air. “One heartburn special coming up!”

Starsky shook his head. He loved this weird, adorable, gorgeous, blond beauty with all his heart. He wished… he wished that his gun had never jammed, that Hutch had remembered that Starsky had given him his heart. But it was no use. He knew now that wishes didn’t come true for irresponsible partners.

“Starsk. I’d like to call in my marker on that dinner you owe me tonight. Let’s go someplace nice. Maybe Italian? I could order an Alfredo dish and you could get something spicy parmesan.”

Starsky’s heart was breaking. Living together the past few weeks had given him a taste of what he was going to miss. He slept with his love in his bed every night, willing his pain to ease, talking him through nightmares and just holding his warm body close. He woke every morning to a cranky, foul mouthed, bundle of blond in his bed and enjoyed every minute.

Caring for him, cooking for him had been his world. Seeing him regain his health was a joy made bittersweet by the knowledge this time of bliss was drawing to a close. He’d love to have dinner with his Hutch. Maybe he’d tell him after. Then he would have the memory of a last dinner with the love of his life.

“Sounds nice, Hutch. Real nice.”

They ate their breakfast and sat talking over a several cups of coffee for Starsky and a pot of tea for Hutch. Hutch did most of the talking. He was obviously excited to be getting his life back and moving back to his apartment and his plants.

Hutch started to yawn and rub his brow. Starsky knew his stomach pains had diminished but his headaches had increased. Starsky suggested a nap for Hutch while he read the Sunday papers on the couch. Hutch agreed; he still tired easily and said his head was killing him. Starsky settled on the couch with the paper, but he couldn’t concentrate. His thoughts were somber.

After an hour, Starsky heard an odd noise coming from the bedroom. “Hutch? You okay?”

Hutch came out carrying a silver box with a classy black bow.

Starsky put down the paper and took the box from Hutch’s hands. “What’s this? It’s a little hot out for Christmas, isn’t it?” He looked up at Hutch to find him smiling that sunshine smile that made his heart quicken.

Hutch sat beside him. “Thanks, buddy. For everything. Open it.”

Starsky removed the bow and tore at the paper. He placed the box on the coffee table and opened it. He pulled out a gun cleaning kit with his initials on top. Starsky stared at the thoughtful present, his heart twisting in his chest. The last thing he deserved was a thank you gift after all the pain and suffering he had caused. He struggled to keep his emotions in check. He swallowed hard. “Hutch,” was all he could manage to say.

“There’s more, babe,” Hutch encouraged.

Starsky reached in the box and pulled out the holster. He looked at Hutch.

“Turn it over. There’s an inscription.”

Starsky held the fine leather in his hand and caressed it. Hutch didn’t know he was breaking his heart. He read the inscription out loud. “Me and Thee, always. Oh, babe.”

“One more box, Starsk.” Hutch hurried him excitedly.

Starsky took a deep breath. He opened the last box to find a Beretta 92. Starsky stared at the gun as the scent of finely crafted steel and gun oil wafted through the air. Starsky closed his eyes trying to hold back the storm of emotions.

“Hutch. Hutch, I gotta tell you somethin’. I… I’m going to quit the force. I can’t be your partner any more after what I did.”

Hutch sucked in a breath as if he had been sucker punched. He grabbed his head and moaned.

Starsky looked up, confused by his reaction. “Hutch?”

“Ahhhhh,” Hutch cried, falling to the floor. He opened his eyes wide as if in shock and shifted until his back was against the couch. He sat staring, a look of horror in his eyes. “Stevens. Listen to me. No gun is untraceable. You don’t want to kill me, I know it. Besides lots of people know where I am right now.”

Starsky dropped his new gun and knelt on the floor, cradling Hutch’s face in his hands. “Hutch? Wha’s wrong with you? Can you hear me?”

Hutch grabbed at the healing wound on his belly and cried out in agony. “Ahhhhhhh! Starssk. Starsk!”

“Hutch! I’m right here. Is it your stomach? Does it hurt? Babe, I’m here.”

“Starsk… y’k? You… shot?” Hutch seemed to focus on Starsky, but his eyes were glassy.

“Shot? No, no baby. I’m fine. You’re at my place. You’re safe. You’re safe.”

Starsky suddenly realized Hutch was reliving the shooting. He grasped his arms and shook him gently. “Hutch. You are not hit. That’s all over.”

“Didn’t hear… you shoot? Sure you’re… ‘k?”

“Oh, God. Hutch. Ya gotta wake up. My… my fuckin’ gun jammed, buddy. Remember? Remember how I let you get shot? Remember how I failed you as a partner? Remember how you almost died because I cared more about some piece of metal than your precious life? Remember how much you suffered because you had the misfortune to have me as a partner? Huh, huh? Remember?”

Starsky realized he was shaking his partner hard. Hutch’s blue eyes were wide, but the horror was gone, replaced by a tender softness that made Starsky gasp and release his grip. Hutch brought a hand up to caress Starsky’s cheek.

“I remember. I remember you saved me. I remember all the times you saved me. I remember I would have been dead long ago if not for your steadfast, unconditional love, saving me over and over. Starsk, you never failed me. You never fail me. I… I remember my wish, and I remember you giving me your heart. I remember it all.”

“Hutch? You… you remember… everything?”

Hutch nodded. He moved his hand to the back of Starsky’s neck and pulled him close. He pressed his lips to the eager mouth of his dearest friend without hesitation. Hutch pulled Starsky onto his lap and Starsky arranged his knees, wide apart on either side of Hutch and pulled him even closer, never ending the sweet tantalizing kiss.

They kissed for what seemed like hours. Four hands exploring two bodies that now moved as one. They caressed hard muscles and worshipped scars. Hard erections ached for release. They came like teenage boys just from the immense pleasure of finally being together. Starsky came first, then Hutch, surprising them both and sending them into giggles that left them breathless and sprawled on the floor.

Starsky slowly regained the use of his muscles and turned a concerned eye towards Hutch. “Baby blue? You okay?”

“Think so. Headache’s gone. I’m hungry… and sticky.”

Starsky grinned. “You sure you’re okay? That was pretty heavy stuff you were going through, babe.”

Hutch sighed. “I’ll talk to the Doc about it next week. I promise. Come here, baby. I want to cuddle. Yes, I’m man enough to admit it, I like to cuddle after.” Hutch opened his arms.

Starsky chuckled and crawled into Hutch’s embrace, taking a moment to grab a couch pillow to place under Hutch’s head as he lay prone and sated on the floor. He rested his head on Hutch’s chest and reached up to play with his hair.

“Starsk? Did I imagine that you said you were quitting the force?”

Starsky almost said yes, but instead he mumbled, “Was thinking about it.”

“Starsky?”

“Okay, okay. I might have been a bit… emotional after my gun jammed.”

“You thought you weren’t a good enough partner for me? Have you lost your mind?”

“Seemed reasonable at the time.”

Hutch snorted and kissed the top of Starsky’s head that was now hiding against his shirt.

“How can you joke about that? Really, Starsky sometimes…”

Starsky lifted his head. “Sometimes what?”

“Sometimes I wonder why I love you so damn much.”

The kiss this time was a balm to their souls as they healed each other’s traumatized hearts.

Eventually they showered and changed for dinner. A dinner that was now a celebration of their new life together.

Starsky was sitting on the couch, his new Beretta in his hands.

Hutch sat beside him to tie his newly refurbished earth shoes. Hutch inhaled the gun oil scent and frowned. “Starsk, I… I think it the smell of gun oil might have set me off earlier.”

“Yeah? You okay? You gettin’ a headache?”

Hutch considered, and rubbed his forehead. “No. I’m fine. It’s a strange sensation having my memory return. Like waking up from a nightmare that followed you into daylight. Maybe I could get the DA to reopen the Steven’s case. I remember everything that happened now.” Hutch put a comforting hand on Starsky’s shoulder. “What about you, babe? You gonna be alright with carrying that Beretta?”

Starsky slowly nodded as he examined the gun. “It’s beautifully made, Hutch. I love that you chose this for me. But it’s just a tool for a cop to use. Maybe someday it will fail me. But I know somethin’ that will never fail me, somethin’ I can always rely on, somethin’ that doesn’t have a tendency to jam. Your love for me.”

Hutch ruffled Starsky’s curls and smiled. “Marshmallow man.”

Starsky countered with, “Mushball.”

They stood, grabbed the shirts they wore to hide their holsters and walked out the door, together.

~~~The End~~~