How Many Miracles . . .

"Geeze, Hutch, sounds serious," Starsky attempted to joke, but Hutch gave no answering smile and Starsky laid his hand on Hutch's arm. "C'mon, Hutch, out with it. You can say anything to me, man. You know that."

"Do I?" Hutch asked, and Starsky only gazed back at him in quiet confidence, and Hutch sighed. "Okay, but you asked for it. What would you say if I told you that I think that you're beautiful? What would you say if I told you that I've loved you romantically for years and that I’ve wanted to make love to you and to physically be your lover?"

Starsky was silent for a moment, and Hutch turned his face away, unable to watch the anger, disgust, and rejection he knew he'd see on his best friend and partner's face. "Geeze, Hutch . . . " Starsky started, and shook his head. "Wh . . . "

"You . . . you don't have to respond, Starsky," Hutch answered. "I . . . I just wanted to tell you how I felt before I died." Suddenly, Hutch's hands shook and he wrapped his arms around himself as cold penetrated to his very core. "And . . . And speaking of feelings,” he almost choked. “I . . . I feel real weird, Starsk. I’m cold and shaky . . ." He whispered and Starsky's heart and stomach clenched.

"Oh no, Hutch," he moaned. "Not yet. Not now. There's so much I wanted to say . . . " He shook his head and leaned it back against the wall. "Man, we've wasted so much time already, and I don't make so good with words. Never did." He turned, leaned forward and placed a feather-light kisses on Hutch's forehead. "I want you too, Hutch. I . . . I just didn't think you'd want me . . .you’d love me. Not like that."

"I do, Starsky. I do love you," Hutch whispered. "I . . .I was afraid. I was afraid I’d lose you, and I didn’t want that. Not over the fact that I love and want you, despite the fact we’re both men. Your friendship was always too valuable to me to do something like that."

"You wouldn’t lose me,“ Starsky shook his head. “Never, buddy. Even if I only ever felt friendship for you, you still wouldn’t have lost me. Not after what we've been through." Starsky said, and Hutch sighed.

“And now we know, we’re going to die,” he barked out a harsh laugh. “We always have such great timing, don’t we?”

“Maybe,” Starsky answered as he gripped Hutch’s arm and made sure the blond looked at him. “Hutch, with the amount of times we’ve almost died over the years, we both knew it was only a matter of time until our luck ran out. But, you gotta’ know, man, he’s only killing our bodies. He ain’t killin’ our hearts. Only you and I can do that, and that ain't gonna happen, Babe,” he grinned widely at Hutch, who half-smiled at his partner.

"Starsky,” Hutch sighed. “That is one of the reasons I’ve always loved you so much. Your eternal optimism knows no bounds.”

“You better believe it, Buddy,” Starsky answered, and by silent, mutual assent, their lips finally met. After a moment, twin groans filled the tanker and Starsky felt Hutch's mouth as it opened under his.

Their tongues met and introduced themselves, and their lips sealed over each other as the gentle kiss of love quickly deepened into fervent passion.

Starsky all but shoved Hutch's jacket to the floor, and, not to be any kind of push-over, Hutch rolled Starsky onto it. He reached under Starsky's turtleneck and stroked the chest and stomach he'd only dreamed about. Starsky groaned under the caress and wound his hands in the long blond mane as their kisses became fierce and demanding.

Starsky was glad that Hutch had shaved off the mustache, and he traced his tongue over the salty upper lip as he slipped his arms out of his black leather jacket. He suddenly flipped Hutch onto his back, lifted up the bowling shirt Hutch wore, and kissed his way up the smooth flesh. Hutch moaned with each kiss and arched upward as the two men’s rapidly hardening pelvises rubbed together. Both men cried out at the unexpected pleasure, and Hutch trembled beneath his friend – his love. He squeezed his eyes shut as he realized neither one of them had a future as a slight dizziness and nausea swept over him and his stomach cramped.

"Starsky, please . . . " He begged as he gripped Starsky's shoulders. "Make it go away! Make it stop!"

"Make what stop, Hutch?!" Starsky demanded, alarmed at the panicked tone.

"The poison, Stars! I can feel it. I can feel that damned poison taking me over! And I'm not ready to go yet! I want to know you! I want to know your body. I want to know what being made love to by you, and making love to you, feels like! I don’t want to die not knowing you!"