Revelations
folder
S through Z › Starsky & Hutch
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
6
Views:
1,997
Reviews:
1
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
S through Z › Starsky & Hutch
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
6
Views:
1,997
Reviews:
1
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Starsky & Hutch, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Chapter 3
“Look, it’s been a hell of a night. Forget about our little conversation here, and just go to sleep.”
“Okay.” He said obediently, and did just that.
My best friend not only loved me romantically, but he wanted to make love to me. Sorry for repeatin’ myself, but the thoughts kept spinning in my head, and wouldn’t stop, so, I just sat and watched the guy sleep.
Guy.
With emphasis on the word GUY.
Wanted me. Wanted to make love to me. Die without me.
I looked, really looked at him, and saw that yes, he was a good looking man . . .even if he couldn‘t dance.
But he was still a man. A man who’d without me. A man who’d die for me.
That brought to mind life without Hutch.
I’d have to go to work alone every day. I’d have to drink beer at Huggy’s place, play Monopoly, and get drunk all by myself. I hadn’t ever really had to face any of that . . . not like Hutch had with me. I pictured, for the first time, as if it was his arms that flew outward, his body that jerked from invading bullets, his body that lay next to the Torino all bullet riddled and bloody, and my heart just about strangled my windpipe as my stomach tied itself into knots.
And then I heard it. The back of my mind must have pulled the sound to the front just at that moment, because I sure didn’t remember hearing it then.
I heard my name.
And it wasn’t just my name, but it was my name screamed at the top of someone’s lungs.
And I knew whose lungs they were. They were Hutch’s. The scream was one I never wanted, or want to hear again, and certainly not connected to my name. But, I suddenly knew that if Hutch had been the one who Gunther’d gone after and left in a heap, I’d’ve made the same sound. Not for the same reason, maybe, but sure as hell the same sound.
I’ve never talked to him about how he’d felt about my getting shot, and I was mad as hell at me. I mean, I knew Hutch’d been scared and angry, yet all I have to compare that with was how I felt about Terry and how I felt when she’d been shot.
I knew how bad I felt when she had died, and if Hutch loved me anything like how I’d loved her, and judging from how hard he fought not to answer me and the resulting waterworks when it finally came out, well, he did . . . does, then Hutch’s heart was so badly mangled he was still mentally bleeding from the wounds I’d already recovered from.
The problem with Hutch and mental bleeding, was that it was as bad for him as physical bleeding was for other people. And sometimes, mental bleeding just didn’t stop because physical bleeding did.
As I soon found out.
“Okay.” He said obediently, and did just that.
My best friend not only loved me romantically, but he wanted to make love to me. Sorry for repeatin’ myself, but the thoughts kept spinning in my head, and wouldn’t stop, so, I just sat and watched the guy sleep.
Guy.
With emphasis on the word GUY.
Wanted me. Wanted to make love to me. Die without me.
I looked, really looked at him, and saw that yes, he was a good looking man . . .even if he couldn‘t dance.
But he was still a man. A man who’d without me. A man who’d die for me.
That brought to mind life without Hutch.
I’d have to go to work alone every day. I’d have to drink beer at Huggy’s place, play Monopoly, and get drunk all by myself. I hadn’t ever really had to face any of that . . . not like Hutch had with me. I pictured, for the first time, as if it was his arms that flew outward, his body that jerked from invading bullets, his body that lay next to the Torino all bullet riddled and bloody, and my heart just about strangled my windpipe as my stomach tied itself into knots.
And then I heard it. The back of my mind must have pulled the sound to the front just at that moment, because I sure didn’t remember hearing it then.
I heard my name.
And it wasn’t just my name, but it was my name screamed at the top of someone’s lungs.
And I knew whose lungs they were. They were Hutch’s. The scream was one I never wanted, or want to hear again, and certainly not connected to my name. But, I suddenly knew that if Hutch had been the one who Gunther’d gone after and left in a heap, I’d’ve made the same sound. Not for the same reason, maybe, but sure as hell the same sound.
I’ve never talked to him about how he’d felt about my getting shot, and I was mad as hell at me. I mean, I knew Hutch’d been scared and angry, yet all I have to compare that with was how I felt about Terry and how I felt when she’d been shot.
I knew how bad I felt when she had died, and if Hutch loved me anything like how I’d loved her, and judging from how hard he fought not to answer me and the resulting waterworks when it finally came out, well, he did . . . does, then Hutch’s heart was so badly mangled he was still mentally bleeding from the wounds I’d already recovered from.
The problem with Hutch and mental bleeding, was that it was as bad for him as physical bleeding was for other people. And sometimes, mental bleeding just didn’t stop because physical bleeding did.
As I soon found out.