Chapter Text
May 15, 1979 :
Starsky wakes up that morning with a pain in his shoulder. Not a prick like a tack or needle, but just extremely uncomfortable. He sits up quickly and looks over where he was laying. Under where his shoulder had been, sits a little Monopoly thimble.
And the game box is tucked safely under some sweaters at the top of his closet.
He hasn't played a single game of Monopoly since that night, sitting on the kitchen floor with Hutch, surrounded by candles, beer, and his raw grief.
But Monopoly pieces have been showing up in odd places during the week. A piece of Monopoly money next to the Torino one morning, the Water Works utility card on the floor next to his water cooler, the Electric Company utility card beside his lamp.
All while the game box had remained shut safely in the back of his closet.
It’s finally all making sense.
He lets out a shaky laugh.“Okay, Terri. I get it. You know, there are a lot easier ways to get a point across to your best friend!” He calls to the universe. Today is the day. He has to face his fears and apprehension and see if Hutch still feels the same way he did last year. They’re finally at a good place again after almost breaking completely apart earlier this year and this is Terri’s way of saying that it’s okay now to ask. See if the time apart really has made the heart go fonder.
Yes, there is a risk. But it’s becoming clear that Hutch is worth the risk. After everything they went through after Lionel and leaving the force together, he’s realized what exactly Hutch means to him.
“I’ll ask him after work. I swear it!"
He gets up, stretches, and nods at the ceiling then shakes his head. He smiles and continues getting ready, snatching up the rogue Monopoly money that has been peeking out from under his hamper.
He finishes getting ready, and heads off to work, feeling his life is about to change in a big way. He just hopes it's for the better.
**
July 1979
His apartment doesn’t look that much different than when he left it two months ago, except for the fact it's been cleaned and there are stacks of Get Well cards and bouquets of flowers. “You should have donated them to the senior home, all those flowers,” Starsky says, leaning on Hutch and his cane.
Mostly on Hutch.
He trusts his best friend and partner’s strong arms more than a stick of plastic. The walk up the stairs had been brutal and worn him out, even with stops every couple of stairs. They’d stood on the landing for a good ten minutes before taking the second half.
“I did donate most of them. These are just the ones I couldn’t pawn off on the old folks,” Hutch says, guiding Starsky to the couch. “This is a third of what there was. Your miracle recovery has made the rounds through the station and some other precincts."
Starsky sits down carefully and Hutch hovers nearby. He radiates nervous energy and looks unsure of what to do or say. Circumstances have been changing so rapidly since the shooting that it's hard to get a good routine going.
“Can I get you something, something to drink or a little something to eat?” Hutch asks, already starting toward the kitchen.
“Just… Come, sit beside me for a while. Please?”
“Okay.” Hutch nods, sitting on the opposite end of the couch, carefully, like he’s afraid to jostle Starsky too much.
“I won’t break. They wouldn’t have cleared me to go home if they thought otherwise. Sit like a normal person, Blondie.” Starsky says with affection.
Sit close to me like you used to is what he really means.
One of the only memories he has of That Day as he refers to it is the plan to see if Hutch still felt the same way. The waking up to the Monopoly piece in his bed. Everything after that is lost or at least buried under mixed-up flashes. He really only starts to recall things a few days after he woke up. The rest is lost to time.
Except Hutch.
Hutch is who he came back for, that much he knows. Medical science can't explain it. If asked, he'll shrug and just say that it wasn't his time. But deep down he knows he came back for Hutch.
They have something most people never get: a true second chance.
Now they just have to make the best of this precious gift they have.
Hutch settles closer and even lets their knees touch a bit. It’s not much but it’s a start.
Starsky scoots closer to Hutch and lays his head on Hutch’s shoulder. “That’s better.”
“And no nurse intent on kicking me out,” Hutch says with a small laugh. “She relented eventually though.” Hutch throws his arm around Starsky’s shoulder and gently rubs his upper arm. Starsky feels the tension and nervousness start to lessen.
“Well, she probably figured that if she didn’t let you, we'd just cause another flooded room.” Starsky teases.
“Yeah…” Hutch chuckles self consciously but relaxes against the couch a bit more. He leans in and kisses the top of Starsky’s head.
Starsky makes a contented noise but Hutch pulls back.
“Uh, I’m sorry. I just… you need a pain pill and some food and ….” He jumps up, jostling Starsky. "Sorry, I uh…"
"S'okay. I'm fine." Starsky waves off Hutch’s frantic fussing and fixing. "I'm really not made of porcelain."
Hutch chuckles but it's false and nervous laughter. "I'll just go get some soup going." He manages and scurries off to the kitchen.
And this time Starsky doesn’t stop him.
Maybe in all this time, Hutch has moved past the idea of more than 75% of their time together. After all, they’re almost two years removed from Hutch’s confession to having romantic feelings. And considering how Starsky had put the brakes on their phone sex they’d started as an exploration so abruptly, maybe Hutch has actually moved on and Starsky is in no place to blame him.
“Don’t wait around for me” he'd said that day Hutch had confessed. “ If I miss out…it’s on me”. He can’t very well be upset that Hutch moved on. He’d meant it then and he would never want to keep Hutch from being happy, just because he couldn’t take the leap when Hutch needed him to do so.
It doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt.
But he can’t let Hutch see the hurt. Not right now.
This is going to be a time of great adjustment in so many ways and he needs Hutch to help him through it.
Even if it's just as a friend.
He listens to Hutch opening cabinets and generally pacing around the kitchen, the occasional clank of dishes, the refrigerator door opening and shutting a few times, a few mutterings of disgust and annoyance.
Starsky wants to be in there and helping but he can’t gather the energy. No matter how many tests he’s passed and how well the doctors think he is doing, the fact of the matter remains that he’ll never be 100% who he was before Gunther. He’s been warned about good days and bad days and that moving from the nursing home to his home would be another transition to adjust to. But the cold reality hits hard for him. He’s used to having energy to spare, no matter what.
It really is no wonder Hutch has moved on. Not that Hutch is that superficial or shallow but who wants to date someone they have to provide care for?
There is still so much unknown to face and he’s scared enough for himself. No need to drag Hutch down too.
“It’s like those haunted houses you used to take me and Nick to when we were kids, Ma,” Starsky says, watching his mother crochet as she sits beside him. “I have no idea what’s gonna happen around the next corner, what’s gonna reach out and grab me next.” The ups and downs and ‘one step forward, two back’ pacing of recovery is starting to really get to him. Since moving to this nursing home, where everyone is at least 30 years his senior, or so it appears to him, it’s hard to get out of his funk. Currently, he feels stuck in the two steps back phase. Even having his mother here for an extended visit doesn’t help.
“I’d have thought you were used to facing the unknown, Davey. With everything you face on the streets everyday…”
“That was like going through one put on by a school or somethin’. This is one put on by someone with a lot of time and money. Mostly money,” He rolls his eyes and snorts bitterly. “And it doesn’t seem to want to end.”
“What are you most scared of?”
His mother has a way of cutting directly to the point, in a way that is both loving and blunt.
“I may not be able to be a cop, or at least, not on the streets anymore. I could lose all my friends. And what’s gonna happen to me and Hutch …I mean, if we can’t be partners on the streets anymore.” Starsky says, backpedaling as he realizes how his last sentence could sound.
For her part, his mother only briefly raises her eyebrows. “Do you really think your friends, especially Kenny, will abandon you if you can’t be a cop anymore?” She puts her crocheting aside and grabs Starsky’s hand. “I really can’t see Kenny leaving. He only went home to sleep today because I made him.”
“Maybe. It’s just hard to think about, that’s all. All of these plans: Hutch and me, taking our lieutenant exams next year maybe, I don’t know. Just…” He sighs. “I know, I know. Man plans, God laughs, or something like that. But it’s hard, that’s all.”
“And it may get harder. But I know you’ll have Kenny by your side, no matter what.” She says, and something about the way she looks at him over the rim of her glasses when she says that, makes him wonder if his mother is able to read minds. If he were ever going to believe in that stuff, it would be with his mom.
He’s woken by Hutch shaking his shoulders gently. “Wake up, Starsk. You need to eat something so you can take a pain pill.”
“Don’t need a pain pill. Don’t want a pain pill.” He mutters. “Just want to eat and go to bed.”
Hutch looks at the instructions on the prescription bottle. “Take as needed. Okay, I guess you can do that. Just a little something then. And then we’ll get you set up for bed.”
Starsky nods and sits up from the awkward dozing position that he’s landed in, half sitting up, half laying down. Hutch helps him get settled again and brings out a tray with some soup and crackers, and a bottle of Coke. He gently places it on the coffee table and pushes the table closer so Starsky can reach.
“No beer, huh?” Starsky asks. “What kind of place are you running here?”
“The kind that listens to your doctor. One of us has to. No alcohol as long as you're on the heavy-duty stuff.”
“But I declined the heavy stuff. Come on, be a pal.”
Hutch raises his index finger to wag it in Starsky's face and Starsky grins. It’s a small sign of normality. “Now you…”
“Put down the finger, Blondie. I was just giving you a hard time. You are such an easy mark.” Starsky takes a small slurp of soup and a sip of Coke as Hutch settles in the armchair next to him.
He can almost see a mental counter ticking up over Hutch’s head, counting every bite. Making sure he’s eating enough.
The reality is, Starsky really doesn’t feel like much and is only eating because he wanted to give Hutch something to fuss over for a few minutes. It seems to help him to have an outlet for this pent-up energy that he’s not getting out being on modified assignment, focusing on getting Gunther locked up for good, and clearing up all of the back-logged case files. Theirs and any detective that wants to give him their paperwork.
Hutch settles into the chair after Starsky takes a third bite. And after the fifth bite, Hutch leans across and takes a few crackers to nibble on from the tray.
Another little sign of normality.
It’s not much but the little things matter to him more than they ever have before. He’s expressed a lot of his fears about his recovery to Hutch in quiet moments but the greatest fear he has – the fear of losing their friendship because he isn't able to do what he used to do– is one he’s kept secret.
This is the first time since becoming working partners and friends that they aren’t on even footing, at least that's how it seems to him. Starsky worries that he’ll always be the stumbling block for Hutch now. Hutch can’t go on and pursue his career path while he’s refusing another partner and stuck doing paperwork, being a backup if needed.
“You know, Hutch you should consid–” Starsky starts, but is promptly stopped with an icy glare from Hutch.
“Absolutely not! I told Dobey That Day : I already got a partner, I don’t need another one. I meant it then, and I mean it now. No more of this talk, not now.”
Starsky shakes his head. They need to have this discussion sometime but clearly now isn’t the time. Pushing Hutch is not the way to go. Starsky scoffs scoffs a little. "You are too stubborn for your own good." He returns his attention to his food and makes himself eat until he’s pretty sure he’s eaten enough to satisfy Hutch.
“Is that all?” Hutch asks, clearly concerned. The little ridge between his eyebrows is already deepening.
“Yeah. I’m really beat.” Starsky says, leaning back, returning the still half-full bowl to the tray. “I’ll just take a nap and see how I feel later.”
“Okay…” Hutch is clearly not convinced but he gets up and gets the tray, taking it back to the kitchen.
With great effort, Starsky gets up from the couch and manages to get to his feet. He knows he should wait for Hutch but a certain streak of pride makes him want to try on his own.
Foolish pride.
He wobbles, finding that even, as slow as he had tried to move, it was obviously too fast. He wants to get back to the couch but is frozen, finding that he’s scared to move one way or the other.
“ HUTCH!” He calls out, trying to keep from panicking or seeming too urgent but needing help all the same.
Hutch is there almost instantaneously. He practically leaps over the sofa to get to Starsky and wraps his arms around Starsky’s middle, holding him steady and close. “I've got you.” He whispers. “Come on, let's get you into bed. You think you can make it?”
“Y-yeah. I’m okay.” Starsky whispers. A feeling of shame at being betrayed by his own body passes over him.
Hutch helps him every step, finding their rhythm like they always have had on the streets, talking without speaking. It’s an automatic thing, and it does allay Starsky's fears at least a little.
Hutch helps him sit on the bed, and get into pajamas. Then helps him under the covers.
Once in bed, and settled, Starsky finds that he’s more tired than he realized. His head hits the pillow and he nearly drops off that exact moment.
Hutch makes sure that the pillows and blankets are arranged just right. “I’ll just be in the other room. Do you need anything else?”
“You.” Starsky pleads. “Don’t go. Stay with me. Please, hold me.” He doesn’t care how it sounds.
He needs Hutch. Plain and simple.
And for his part, Hutch doesn’t argue. He nods. “Okay.” Hutch kicks off his shoes and climbs into the bed, still fully clothed but under the sheets. He wraps his arms around Starsky carefully. Starsky makes a contented noise and drops off, feeling secure in Hutch’s arms, solid in a way he hasn’t been since That Day.