"Look at that sky."

   Hutch's voice was quiet. Starsky felt relaxed enough to melt right into the blanket, or through it into the sand. Even the waves were hushed. Above hung a deep October evening, warm and still and cloudless.

   Hutch rolled up onto an elbow and looked around. Always a cop. Starsky tensed, ready to move, but Hutch put a calming hand on his stomach and smiled down. The low sun filled every blond hair with light.

   "Look at that sky," Hutch repeated, eyes pouring love into Starsky's, and then kissed him, the whole day's warmth in his mouth.