|It's a New Story!!! Run for the hills!
||[May. 22nd, 2005|09:15 pm]
Starsky & Hutch Fans
|||||Born to Run by Brooks & Dunn||]|
Okay, so it's not all that bad. I'm just the Nervous-Nelly type, and I've never really posted an S/H story that I've finished. So here it is, in all its glory. Thanks in advance for comments, good or bad. If you don't like it, blame Hutch. He made me do it.
Rating: Gen friendly slash. Humor, committed relationship of sorts.
Warning: Spoilers for S&H: The Movie.
Note: The other day, I watched Starsky and Hutch: The Movie for the umpteenth time, and this tongue-in-cheek tale was born out of questions my significant other bombarded me with when it ended. Aqua Buena is a town loosely based on a town that I may or may not live in. It is also a town that a much younger Starsky and Hutch visited in an upcoming story, Speed Trap Redux.
(This tale takes place immediately after New School Starsky and Hutch drive away in the Torino.)
By Lyrical Soul
"You sold my car!"
"My car!" he continues, as if I haven't said a word. "You. Sold. It." With a huge sigh, he turns and watches the two upstarts drive away in the Torino. He looks like he's about to run after them, grab a hold of the bumper and stop the car with his bare hands. "Damn it, Hutch! This is all your fault!"
"My fault?" I look at him like he's crazy. "I merely suggested you sell it. You took the ball and ran with it. You agreed to the price, accepted the money. You even drove it here, knowing he was going to take it from you. What's with blaming me?"
"You should have done a better job convincing me not to sell it," he says, his tone plaintive. "So, it's your fault."
"Bull. I tried to talk you out of it, but you were so sure, remember? What's changed?"
"It's just... she was my baby, Hutch. Remember when I bought her? The dealer said there were only four like her at the time. I scraped together all the money I had, and all the money you had, and bought her. She went through all the hell we did, and even after Gunther, she held together. The first time you ever kissed me was in that car. You remember... bringing me home from the hospital, and you were so happy, you leaned in and planted a big one right on my lips. Things weren't the same after that. The Torino was like a good luck charm for me."
"Yeah, buddy, but it was-"
"Just shut up, Hutch, okay?" His voice is tight, like he's trying hard not to break down. "I don't wanna hear it right now."
I don't want to upset him any more than he already is, so I swallow the sarcasm and shut up.
He paces back and forth bit, muttering to himself, and then turns to me. "So, tell me, Hutchinson... now that you've sold our means of transportation, how are we gonna get home?"
I look at him and shake my head.
"Oh for god's... I meant shut up about the car 'cause I know you were about to say something bad about her. You've hated that car since I bought it."
"I-" No argument there, so I stop that denial in its tracks. "We could take a taxi home."
"Yeah, right. We live 80 miles away."
"And listen to some smelly bum sing about lost love and heartache for two hours? No, thanks."
"The taller the renter, the smaller the car." He looks me up and down. "They'll take one look at you and put us in one of those Coopers."
"Huggy Junior could take us."
"I'm not riding in that... purple people eater, Hutch. He's worse than our Huggy when it comes to clothes and cars."
"So we're down to option zero." I flip open my cell phone. "I'll have someone bring my car." I'm not really calling anyone, since we actually do have a ride home, but he doesn't need to know that. "I'll just get Andy to come and-"
"Oh, no you don't," he says, grabbing my phone and putting it in his pocket. "Just no, Hutch. I thought as you got older, your taste in cars would improve, but nooo... I know you're the big shot mayor of Aqua Buena, and you have to ride around in a glorified army jeep that looks like a canary on steroids, but that thing is dangerous. And it's ugly, and it takes five minutes to turn the corner."
"It's a Hummer, Starsky, and it came with the job. You're just jealous."
"Jealous, hell. My problem right now is that you sold my precious candy apple dumpling to that prissy, snot-nosed kid, who grabbed the keys, grabbed the mike, and screeched off in it with his kooky sidekick like he owned it!"
"He does." Not helpful, I know, but sometimes the truth will set you free.
I watch as the winds go right out of his sails, and think maybe too much truth isn't such a good thing. His shoulders slump and he just shakes his head. "Yeah. Thanks a lot, pal."
The caustic way he says 'pal' cuts me a bit, but I brush it off. "Aw, come on, Starsk. Let's just go home. We can stop by Crazy Otto's and get you a prime rib sandwich. Betty will probably throw in some homemade chips since she's got a big crush on you."
"Big whoop," he says flatly. "Back to Aqua Buena, population three thousand, seven. Environment Magazine's Small Town of the Year. Hell, without the brimstone. Home of the unrelenting desert sun, dirt, and the Joshua tree."
"It's our home, too," I defend, hoping he's just blowing off steam.
"Yeah, it's home, sweet home all right. Miles and miles away from civilization, from decent tacos, and a movie theater showing current movies."
"Starsk, we have all that stuff. What we don't have is traffic, smog, and crime." I look at him, thinking maybe he's not just blowing off steam, but is genuinely unhappy and is just now letting me know. "Are you serious? You really hate living there?"
"Yes." He sighs. "No." Another sigh. "Maybe". Again, a sigh. "With you, never." Sigh. "But my car, Hutch. It was a symbol. When we were on the streets..."
"I know," I say, using my best calm and soothing tone.
"We were the best."
"I know." I know only too well what *that* cost us.
"I know." We were only supposed to stay until the criminal element was removed, but once we finished the job, we liked the town so much, we couldn't leave. It was a big change, but I didn't think it still bothered him. Not after all these years.
"Stop saying that, Hutch. You're annoying me."
"But I do know," I say gently. "Really."
"Great, Hutch. Just great. If you know so much, how come you didn't know that I didn't really want to sell my car? Tell me that, Mr. I Know!"
Talk about winds and sails. I'm stunned. "Starsky... I don't know what to say. When Huggy Junior called, you jumped at the chance to sell the car. You were all set to put a down payment on that Mustang, and I told you to sell it because I thought that's what you wanted."
"Shows how much you know," he grumbles.
"Damn it, Starsky... what do you want me to do? You want me to get your car back? Tell me now, and I'll chase them to the ends of the earth to get it back, if that'll make you happy."
"Yeah, right. That kid'll never give it back." He looks at me, and I notice his eyes are clouded over with a mixture of sadness and pain. "Let's just go home, okay?"
"Hey..." I put a hand on his chin and tilt his head up so his eyes meet mine. Though his face has more lines than it did twenty-five years ago, his eyes are unchanged. A few extra crows feet here and there, but they're still as brilliantly blue as the day we met. It hurts me to see the pain there, knowing I caused it, even if it was inadvertently. "Aw, buddy, I didn't mean to hurt you, you know that. I just don't understand... you told me you were okay with this. You told Huggy Junior..." I stop and look at him again. "This isn't about the car, is it? This is about us. Right?"
"Boy, you're batting a thousand today."
"Are you going to make me play twenty questions? Just tell me what it is so I can fix it, Starsk."
"I don't think you can fix it. It's just that... I feel..." He stops for a moment, because he's getting all choked up. Clearing his throat, he continues, "Those guys made me feel old, Hutch. Like I was out of place. Did you see how he grabbed the mike from me? And how he said 'Zebra-three'? It just... it hurt. It didn't touch you, though. You were Mr. Accepting and Understanding. You just said 'give him the keys', like it was nothing to you. And it hurt."
"I know." I don't know what else to say, mainly because he's right.
"Oh, hell," he growls, "don't start that again. This is all some big joke to you. It wasn't your car, because god knows you've never been all that attached to those beat up clunkers you used to own. But my car... oh hell, what's the use? You don't understand. You never did."
"You know that's not true." And now I'm getting irritated. All I want to do at this point is go home and take a nice hot shower... preferably with him, but now, he'll be lucky if I don't ditch him out in the desert somewhere. I know he's hurting and looking for someone to lash out at, but this really isn't the right time. I try for calm and non-threatening. "I do understand. And I know that what you're feeling right now will pass, Starsky."
"That's supposed to make me feel better? That I'll get over giving up the car I've had since I was in my twenties? Watch out, partner. Your eyes are turning brown, you're so full of shit."
"Enough, Starsky." My tone is hard and rough. "Even you don't get to talk to me like that."
He backs off and holds his hands up in surrender, because he knows I'm about to take a bite out of his ass. "Sorry..."
"Too late. You listen, and listen good. I'm sixty years old. I've got the back of an eighty year old, the knees of a ninety year old, and the-"
"Sex drive of a teenager," he chimes in.
"-mindset of a retiree," I continue, refusing to let him sidetrack me. "Between the two of us, we've lost a lot. Friends, family, innocents, not so innocents. Gunther nearly killed both of us, Starsky, so don't tell me I'm full of shit because I know that it's just a fucking car and you will get over selling it. We've lived a long and full life, and it's not ending because you don't have the Torino anymore. And you don't have to be jealous of those two guys. Let them have it. We did our part, and now we've moved on to bigger and better things. They're young, energetic, and are pretty good guys, if you don't count the driving the car into the ocean thing. They remind me of us, all those years ago, only we were way better looking." I take a deep breath and let it out slowly. Now that my anger has fizzled out, I soften my tone. "I'm happy, Starsky. In Aqua Buena, home of the Joshua tree. I'm happy being the mayor, and that the only thing I have to worry about is creating more parking spaces in front of the post office. I love that there's a lake, and a drive-in, and that nobody cares that we love each other and share a bed. I love that you're the law, and you're gonna come home at the end of the day and the worst thing that's happened is that Mrs. Anderson's dog ate someone's laundry. I know I can't wrap you in cotton, and I wouldn't want to, but we've done it, babe... we survived it, and now it's time to enjoy it. Selling the Torino doesn't make us any less Starsky and Hutch than we were twenty-five years ago. Wherever we are together, we're always going to be me and thee, and I don't think we need a striped tomato to affirm that."
"Not a tomato," he mutters sullenly. He jams his hands in the pockets of his jeans and hangs his head. "I hate when you're right."
"I know." I couldn't resist.
"I know you do. I love you," he says quietly. "So much."
"Why else would I have taken that damned job in the local version of hell, if I didn't love you?"
"Hey... I went with *you*, buddy. Your uncle asked you to come and help the local law enforcement clean up the town. You did a damned good job cleaning it up, too. Ran all the riff-raff out of town in a year, and became the best sheriff in the desert. I just came along as your Tonto."
"No... you just ended up running for mayor, and winning," he grumbles. "The Hutchinson's and their politics are just everywhere. Next thing I know, you'll be replacing your uncle as Secretary of State."
"When you've got it, flaunt it. Are you jealous, Kemosabe?"
"Hah. You couldn't pay me enough to be the mayor of a town of crazy people."
"Yeah, right. You'll do anything that will keep you in those prime rib sandwiches."
"They're not *that* good, Hutch."
"Starsky, you think about those sandwiches all the time. Even during sex."
"Not true." His voice goes up an octave - a sure sign he's lying. "I was trying to move it off the table before you smashed it in your hurry to get your boxers off."
"And you stopped what you were doing to take a bite," I remind him. "Which led to another bite, and there I was, holding my shorts while you polished it off... and washed it down with a root beer. I'd say that makes me right." I give him a smug smile. "Are you ready to go?"
"Sure," he says. "Except for one thing. How are we getting home?"
"Close your eyes."
He frowns. "If you tell me to click my heels three times, I'm divorcing you."
"Just close your eyes, Starsky."
"All right, but if you do something weird, I'm...mmmphf".
My hand over his mouth shuts him up good. "I'm taking my hand away, and you're shutting up, right?" He nods and I move my hand away. I place my hands on his shoulders and turn him around. "Open your eyes, Dave."
He tenses slightly at my use of his first name, but I give his shoulder a reassuring squeeze. Cautiously opening his eyes, I watch as he shakes his head in disbelief. His mouth drops open, and he sounds like he's gasping for breath. "Oh, Hutch. Oh god... Hutch. It's..." He sways a bit, and for a minute, I'm sure he's gonna faint, but he leans back against me, steadying himself. "Hutch..." His voice is a whisper. "What...?"
I wrap my arms around his chest, holding him so he doesn't collapse. "Happy anniversary."
"It's a..." He swallows hard. "A..."
"Ferrari 355. Zero to sixty in four point six seconds. All yours. Happy early birthday."
He wriggles free of my embrace and walks toward the car. It's a fire engine red convertible with a black interior. It's shiny and expensive looking, and just what he's always wanted. "Hot damn." His voice is barely above a whisper. "It's beautiful." Running his hand along the hood, he shakes his head. "We can't... people are gonna think we're on the take. How much money does a mayor make? It can't be enough to afford this!"
"You underestimated how much that young guy wanted your Torino, Starsk," I hedge. "Way more than what the blue book said it was worth. I just made up the difference. You'll never get another gift in this lifetime, but I figure this is worth it." I'll wait until he's really attached to it to tell him that we'll be vacationing in our backyard for the next four or five years. "You like it?"
"Like it? Hutch, it's perfect!"
"Just like us." I dangle the keys in front of his face. "You wanna take it for a spin?"
"You bought me a Ferrari," he says, sounding a bit dazed. He grabs me and pulls me into a rough hug. "Why?"
I lean my forehead against his shoulder. "Because."
Shrugging his shoulder so my head slips off, he takes a hold of my shoulders and shakes me gently. "Why?" he repeats. "Tell me, or I'll dip you right here in front of police headquarters."
"So? We live together. You think they don't know... or at least suspect?"
His eyes twinkle at the challenge. Placing his hands on my waist, he pulls my hips so they're flush with his. "So you won't mind if I kiss you?"
I pretend to think about it for a minute. "Nope."
"Right here? You sure? I think I see some of the guys in the window."
"Go for it."
"Okay..." he warns, then moves in. He kisses my forehead. Then both eyes. Then my nose. Then both cheeks. Then his lips brush over mine like the caress of a feather. "Okay?"
"Tease." I pull away, and motion at the car. "Why? Because the Torino... yeah, it was a classic, it was your beautiful candy apple dumpling, and you loved it, but it's so 1975, Starsky. It gave us some good times, but it's a new day, a whole new century."
"Okay, okay. I just thought it was time for something new. I tried to get you a new car after Gunther, but you were so adamant about keeping it, I just let it drop. When Huggy Junior called, it seemed like the perfect opportunity to get you into something new. It took a lot of subterfuge on my part, but I finally found a car I thought you'd like. Okay?"
"All those secretive phone calls... I thought you were seeing someone on the side." He chuckles and shakes his head. "I kept picturing you with some sweet, young thing over candles and sea kelp. Never thought it was some kind of surprise for me."
"I'd rather have candles and petrified burritos with my sweet, old thing," I retort. "Don't need anybody else." I nudge him. "Check out the plates." Personalized, exempt plates are hard to get, even when you're the mayor and allegedly have pull with the DMV, but Andy, my clerk, managed it in record time. I hope that DMV drone chokes on those Dodger tickets.
He squints, then frowns at me. "You know I can't see like I used to." He pulls his glasses from his jacket pocket and slides them on. "Better. Aw, Hutch. 'Me n Thee'," he quotes. "Perfect."
"Your police radio is all set up. No mars light, but you've got a siren, and special flashers in the front. You've also got heated seats, and the first year maintenance is free, courtesy of the Aqua Buena Chamber of Commerce. Fuzzy dice, courtesy Huggy Junior. You're the only sheriff in the county with a Ferrari. No turkey will ever outrun you again. Of course, there isn't all that much crime in Aqua Buena since you took over, but you never know."
"I love it, Hutch. And I love you." The glasses come off and go back into his jacket pocket -a true testament to his ever present vanity- then he grabs me again, and hugs me tighter than before. "And I am happy. With you. With us."
I squeeze him back, and breathe in the intoxicating Starsky-scent that is as familiar to me as my own. "I know."
He doesn't argue this time. We stand there, holding each other as tight as we can, in the middle of the day, in front of police headquarters, and neither of us gives a damn.
After a few minutes, I ease my hold on him. "If you're gonna drive me home, you're gonna have to let me go."
"Never." He burrows his face into the side of my neck. "Can't."
"Good. But we can't ride home with you pressed against me like this."
"We could if you'd keep an open mind," he murmurs, still nuzzling my neck.
"Did I mention zero to sixty in four point five seconds?"
He pulls back. "You or the car?" His eyebrows move up and down lecherously.
"Get in and find out," I tease in my best bedroom voice.
He gives me a quick kiss on the lips and grabs the keys. "Too bad we didn't have this a few years ago."
"Why?" I ask, moving over to the passenger's side.
"I'd have loved to have seen all that golden hair blowing in the wind, Blintz."
I run a hand over what's left of my hair. Thankfully, I'm not bald, but the top was getting a bit thin, so I just keep it cut really short. "Yeah, well, as fast as this thing goes, I'm sure I wouldn't have had much left after a few spins anyway."
"You still look great for an old guy." With a chuckle and a rakish wink, he hops over the closed door and plops into the driver's seat. "Always wanted to do that."
"God help us all if you've pulled a muscle," I mutter.
He pretends he didn't hear me, and wriggles around with delight. "Leather seats, Hutch. Decadent. Can't wait to take it to Lover's Leap and see how they feel when I'm naked."
"Hedonist." I open the door and slide into the passenger's seat. It's comfortable, roomy, and it smells like expensive leather and lemon oil. Not a car I would drive myself, but I think I made a good choice.
"Yeah. And you wouldn't have me any other way. Don't even need Viagra." He grins at me and puts the key in the ignition. With a quick flick of his wrist, the car rumbles to life. He bounces with joy. "Hear that? God, that's sweet. You ready, partner?" He snaps on his seatbelt and looks at me, eyes dancing with mischief.
"Whenever you are," I say, hooking my seatbelt. I say a silent prayer for safety and sanity, and smile back. "Let's do it."
"Okay, but before we go... I need to ask you something." He frowns and looks over at me. "What's today's date?"
"Why? Did you have another senior moment? It's not unusual, Starsk-"
"Hutch," he cuts in. "I'm not having a senior moment. Just answer."
"For the thinking impaired, today is July 1, 2004. Does that sound familiar, buddy? Is your memory coming back?"
"Funny, Hutch. Okay. If it's 2004, and we're both sixty years old, why did we just sell my car to Dave and Ken – who aren't us- and a guy named Huggy Bear, in what looks suspiciously like 1975?"
I open my mouth to answer, and realize I don't really know. I think about it some more, and try to answer, but I still don't know, so I close my mouth again.
"Hutch?" he presses.
"Well... uh, okay. You see, the..." I press my lips together and think hard. A few ideas come to mind, but I hastily discard them because they're just downright dumb. "Okay... what we have is a... well, it's kinda like a ripple in the space/time continuum, which sent us... or them to the other's time. Either we're us, twenty-five years later, and they're them right now, which is twenty-five years ago, or we're them, twenty-five years later. Or, we're us, and this is some weird dream, and we're gonna wake up and find out we fell asleep on a stakeout. Twenty-five years ago."
He thinks about that for a few minutes. Of the two of us, he's the eternal optimist, the one who's more willing to believe in things like Bigfoot and aliens, so I'm sure he's trying to figure out if what I've said is possible. "So you're saying one of us... one of the pair of us, is in an alternate universe? That's just-"
"Crazy," I fill in. "Starsky, let's just go, okay? It's a beautiful day, and I'm sure you'd like to get this baby out on the road. She's purring, and don't you just want to leave all those trucks in the dust with your monster engine?" Manipulative, I know, but I really don't want to spend the next three hours waiting for him to wrap his mind around space/time continuums, ripples in time, and alternate universes. "Please?"
"My Blondie..." He shakes his head and gives me the most beautiful smile I've seen in a while. Full of love, friendship, and understanding. I do realize he's dropping the subject for now, and is reserving the right to bring it up sometime in the near future. Hopefully I'll have a better answer by then. "Let's go home." He picks up the radio mike, and hits the talk button. "Dispatch, Weimaraner-seven is ten-nineteen. ETA..." He looks at his watch. "...thirty-seven minutes."
"Roger, Why-seven," Randy, the dispatcher says. "Uh, are you flying home?"
Starsky grins at me, then revs the engine. "You could say that, Dispatch. The Mayor and I are ten twenty-four."
I grab his hand and pull the mike toward me. "More like fifty-one fifty," I say to the dispatcher.
"Hush," he admonishes with a laugh. "You copy, Dispatch?"
"Copy. You're ten twenty-four, and the Mayor is fifty-one fifty. Under advisement, Why-seven."
"Ten-four, Dispatch." He hangs up the mike and puts on his sunglasses, which are prescription also, but wild horses couldn't drag that out of him. "I love you, Hutch... even if you are fifty-one fifty."
"Love you, too, Starsky... but you're the crazy one. I'm just along for the ride."
His laugh is wicked as he revs the powerful engine again. "Just hang on tight and keep your eyes closed. We'll be home before you know it."
"And that's what scares me." The realization that this may not have been one of my better ideas hits me like a ton of bricks as I feel the throbbing of the engine. "I think I've made a big mistake here, Starsk. Giving you this car is like giving a pyromaniac a jug of kerosene. Let's talk about alternate universes instead."
"You had your chance for that." He turns that beautiful blue gaze on me. "Trust me?"
"With a car like this? Hell, no." I take my rabbit's foot from my pocket, kiss it, and hang it on the string with the fuzzy dice. "I'm way too young to die."
"Better hold on tight then. I've heard that if you go fast enough, you can actually turn back time. Wouldn't that be fun?"
"Yeah, let's go back to before I bought this thing," I retort. "Look, Starsky, the top speed on the car is one hundred-seventy. Any faster than that, and we'll dissolve."
"That's not what happened on Star Trek," he says. With another rev of the engine, he presses the clutch and eases the car into first gear. "Oh, god..." He revs the engine again. "This is almost better than sex."
"Double-clutch us into the back of that bus, and this will be the only sex you get." I put on my sunglasses and hold on to the door handle for dear life as we screech off in a cloud of tire dust.
We turn the corner on what feels like two wheels, and Starsky looks over at me and smiles. "Love you, Blintz."
"Yeah, yeah," I say, smiling back.
My work here is done.
See Starsky's car here:
And Hutch's (because he didn't want to be left out): http://www.familycar.com/RoadTests/HummerH2/