Reggie

********

   Starsky was caught on the very edge of consciousness, snuggled deeply into the bed with his arms wrapped around a pillow, when the mattress dipped and he was suddenly covered with a long, warm, heavy, and utterly familiar body. He registered the feeling with a smile, without opening his eyes. "Mmm."

   "Morning." Hutch nibbled at an earlobe.

   "'S it?" Starsky asked, venturing open one eye, then quickly closing it again. "Why's'it so dark, then?"

   "It's morning," Hutch said, a little note of defensiveness in his tone.

   "How much morning?"

   Hutch chuckled at the sleepy yet very Starsky-esque question. "Five," he admitted.

   Starsky sighed, and pulled the warm quilt a little bit more securely around his neck. "We've had this conversation before, Nature-boy," he grumbled. "Five isn't morning. Eight is morning, but only when we're at home. When we're on vacation, think more like ten."

   "Come on," Hutch said, poking him in the side - or as near as he could estimate would be Starsky's side, trying to find a rib through the multitude of bedclothes his partner was currently wrapped in. "You're not going to sleep this entire vacation, are you? I thought we'd go fishing."

   "We just got here yesterday, Hutch," Starsky said. "You're lucky I let you talk me into coming back to this - this - this shack of inequity."

   "This lovely cabin is hardly a shack."

   "I'll remind you of that when the rattlesnakes start comin' out of the woodwork."

   "They don't come out of the woodwork," Hutch smirked. "If memory serves, they come out of the refrigerator."

   "Ha ha ha," Starsky said, sarcastically. "I don't remember either one of us laughin' much at the time."

   "No," Hutch had to agree. It had been downright terrifying to find Starsky pinned helpless and frozen in the kitchen, trying not to move or breathe or do anything to provoke the deadly rattlesnake that had him in its sights and was poised to strike. "I promised you no deadly wildlife this time, and I've kept my promise, right?"

   "So far," Starsky admitted. "But we've only been here twelve hours. The Satan worshippers ain't even had enough time to find out we're here."

   "Starsky, there are no Satan worshippers here this time," Hutch said, patiently. "And I'll make sure there are no rattlesnakes, or bears, or anything else threatening. Just you, and me, and birds, and fish." He shifted his body, pushing his groin into the approximation of where Starsky's ass should have been, under the covers. "Which are probably getting away even as we speak."

   "Well, then, you oughta stop yapping and get out there, right?" Starsky pulled the covers right over his curly head, and made extra-loud snoring noises.

   "Babe," Hutch near-whined, digging his hands into the blankets and trying for a little more 'direct persuasion.'

   "Ow!" Starsky yelped, suddenly. "What're you poking me with?"

   Hutch grinned. "I thought you'd be used to that, by now."

   Starsky just turned around and frowned at him. "It isn't that," he said, with disgust, and dug around under the covers. "It's a fishing hook!" he said, when he had found the offending object. "That's it - get out of my bed."

   "Your bed?"

   "Yes. While we are both in it for the purposes of sex or sleep, it is ours, but it is mine while I am in it, trying to sleep. You are fully dressed and covered with sharp objects. Get out and go catch breakfast."

   "But - "

   "Babe, I do a lot of things for you. I let you drag me out in the middle of the dangerous wilderness and call it a 'vacation,' without any - without too much protest," he quickly amended. "I endure the four-hour drive to get here with you telling me endless stories of the ones that got away from you while you were a boy. I'm prepared to do without any modern conveniences for a week at a time. I am not prepared to sacrifice sleep to sit in a leaky rowboat in the middle of a lake at five o'clock in the morning to catch a fish that I will then have to behead and de-gut before I can even think about eatin' it. Got it?"

   "Got it," Hutch answered, sounding a little cowed.

   "Good." Starsky covered his head over again, and felt the warmth lift off of him as Hutch got out of the bed without another word. "Aw, babe - " he said after a moment, a little ashamed of his own early-morning rant. But Hutch was already gone from the room and he heard the cabin's front door quietly close a moment later. "Damn," he said softly to himself. "Well, that's a hell of a way to start our vacation, isn't it?"

********

********

   To his great surprise, Starsky managed to fall back asleep, and when he awoke properly the bedroom was flooded with sunlight. He fumbled around for his watch and found that it was now nearly ten a.m. He was a little alarmed both that he'd slept so long and that Hutch hadn't yet come back from his fishing trip, but figured that his nature-loving partner was either really enjoying himself and catching the lake empty, or that he was sulking somewhere and waiting for Starsky to find him and apologize properly.

   Either way, he needed coffee, and a trip to the sorry excuse for a bathroom that this place boasted - not necessarily in that order.

   The outhouse wasn't nearly as chilly as it had been last night, and it didn't seem quite so spooky in the full light of day. He was hardly looking forward to using it for the rest of the week, but figured he'd survive - and score some bonus points with Hutch if he stopped being such a grump about it, too. It wasn't like Hutch had brought him up here at gunpoint, or anything - Dobey's cabin in the woods wasn't his first or even tenth choice for their long-overdue vacation together, but he was alone with his lover and they both had an entire week away from their responsibilities, together and at the same time, and that almost never happened anymore. Between school, his part-time hack job, and Hutch's full-time duties in Homicide, they caught whatever time together that they could - fifteen minutes here, ten there, the occasional half-day off if they were lucky. Starsky wondered if they'd just forgotten how to spend all of their time together anymore. It was two-and-a-half years since they'd been together day and night, twelve or more hours a day, seven days a week. Even then, they'd 'only' been friends.

   "Were we better friends than lovers, babe?" he asked himself, as he lit the stove to warm up the coffee Hutch had made several hours earlier, hoping it wasn't too thick from sitting around. "Or is it always just easier to be friends with someone?" He tested the coffee and poured in some sugar and milk, tempering its strength a little, then strode out the front door, clutching the milky solution with one hand and scratching his belly with the other.

   "Is it safe to say 'good morning,' now?"

   Starsky whirled around, and found Hutch leaning against a tree, a book in his hands and a grin on his face. He scrunched up his face. "Yeah," he said, sheepishly. "Sorry about before - "

   "No, you were right," Hutch interrupted. "I know this isn't your idea of a vacation wonderland, and I shouldn't have bugged you so early on our first day here."

   "Why don't we just split the difference and start the morning over, huh?" Starsky asked.

   "Agreed," Hutch said, and walked over to the porch to stand behind his lover, pressing the length of his form against Starsky's back. He snagged the coffee out of his hands and took a sip. "Since when do you take milk and sugar?"

   "Since the coffee's five hours old," Starsky said.

   "It's good. Sweet." Hutch replaced the cup in Starsky's hand and wrapped his arms around his waist, rubbing one hand lazily over his belly. "Been waiting all morning to see this outfit, you know."

   Starsky snorted. "If I knew just how much these old red long johns turned ya on, babe, I'd have worn them to bed every night."

   Hutch shook his head, his lips finding the same earlobe he'd toyed with earlier. "It isn't the same unless we're out here and you're wearing them. It makes it - special. If I saw them every day," he shrugged, "it'd be ordinary. Sexy as hell, but ordinary."

   "So at last I find out the real reason you dragged me out here." Starsky sat his empty coffee cup down and turned around in Hutch's embrace. "To seduce me out of my long johns."

   "My dark secret is out," Hutch said, shaking his head. He then gave Starsky a long, slow kiss, sharing the lingering milky sweetness of his mouth. "You know," he said, when the kiss ended and Starsky had his eyes closed, head resting on his shoulder, "if you really want to go somewhere else this week - "

   "I don't," Starsky said. "Anywhere you are is a good place to be. Anyplace that makes you happy makes me happy to be with ya. Even if it don't seem like it at the time."

   "You're a really good person, you know that?" Hutch said. "You always think about other people more than yourself."

   "Not always."

   "Most of the time," Hutch amended.

   "You say that after the snit I threw this morning?"

   "It was deserved. It was good to get it out of the way this early in the vacation, instead of letting it simmer. Now maybe we can relax and enjoy ourselves. I'll know better than to get you up while it's still dark out, for one thing."

   "All I ask is some light in the world when I open my eyes in the mornin'."

   "Agreed. Although - " Hutch trailed off.

   "Although," Starsky prodded, at the lingering wistful tone of his partner's voice.

   "You should see the sun rise, Starsk. The light just burns off all the mist on the lake, and everything turns from gray to pink to gold in minutes. It's really beautiful." He coloured slightly when he saw how Starsky was looking at him, a grin on his face. "It sounds stupid, doesn't it?"

   "Nah. It sounds beautiful. You looked beautiful when you said it. Now I wanna see it." Starsky sighed. "I guess I'm gonna haveta go to bed early tonight, eh?"

   "I guess so."

   "Okay. So, where are all these famous fish I been hearin' so much about?"

   "I left them on a line down in the lake. Didn't want to make a lot of noise in the cabin till you got up."

   Starsky made a rueful face. "So, we've got enough for lunch?"

   "And dinner, and breakfast tomorrow, and - "

   Starsky stopped him before he could continue. "I've gotta feelin' I'm gonna be full of fish before this week is over." He gave a full-body stretch and grinned at Hutch's approving gaze. "I could use a bath, though. I s'pose my only hope is a dip in the lake, eh?"

   "There's a shower," Hutch said.

   "Really? Now, this I gotta see." He followed Hutch around the back of the cabin, where they walked to a wooden stall built under a tree, with a bucket overhanging. "Uh, I hate to break it to you, Hutch, but that ain't a shower." He shivered just looking at it.

   "It serves, in a pinch," Hutch said. "I'll even heat the water up for you."

   "Well, I suppose I'm not gonna be any warmer in the lake, am I?" Starsky trudged back to the cabin. "You get the water, I'll get the soap."

   "Deal. Meet you back here."

********

********

   The shower turned out to be a lot of effort for very little result, but Starsky did feel moderately cleaner when it was done. They agreed that the lake and the wash-basin inside would do for the majority of their cleaning regimen for the rest of the trip, though.

   They feasted on fish 'a la Hutchinson' for lunch, then went for a combination nature walk/bird-watching/berry-picking excursion that lasted most of the rest of the afternoon. After a short laze in the surprisingly comfortable hammock watching the sun set, they retired to the cabin for a fish fry dinner and a relaxing game of Monopoly while they digested it.

   Starsky insisted upon cleaning up the dishes alone, since Hutch had both cleaned the fish and cooked. "Why don't you play me something?" he asked, nodding over at the guitar Hutch had brought in from the car with the rest of their gear.

   "Any requests?" Hutch asked, tuning up.

   "Dish-washing music," Starsky said, as if it was obvious, tied on Hutch's cooking apron and rolled up his sleeves. Hutch made up a lively song on the spot about the joys of domesticity and the extra-scrubbing power of their dish soap. "That was good," Starsky said, when he'd finished the impromptu song. "You should write jingles for a living."

   "Probably pays a damn sight better than being a cop," Hutch said, picking idle chords on the guitar.

   "Everything pays better than being a cop," Starsky pointed out.

   "Mm," Hutch agreed. "And most other things don't involve risking your life every day."

   "Uh-huh," Starsky said. "And if it wasn't for the little fact that nothing else would possibly make you as happy and fulfilled as being a cop does, you could start your new career in showbiz first thing next week."

   Hutch just smiled. "Anyone ever tell you you look good in an apron?"

   "Well, I've been waitin'," Starsky retorted, sarcastically. He scrubbed at the heavy frying pan.

   "You chilly?" Hutch asked, putting the guitar down.

   "A little."

   "Think I'll go out and bring some wood in. Might be a good night for a fire."

   "I hope that fireplace doesn't burn the whole cabin down."

   "It shouldn't. Dobey said he has it cleaned regularly."

   "Oh, sure. That he does, but he can't get good indoor plumbing installed."

   "I think he called this place a 'fixer-upper,'" Hutch laughed, as he shrugged into his coat. "I thought it would be right up your alley."

   "Funny, Hutch. Very funny."

   Hutch's laughter just echoed behind him as he walked out the door.

   Starsky finished the dishes and put away the food, then wandered out the door himself when Hutch still hadn't returned. Owls were already hooting, and the darkness settled around the place, bringing with it a night-chill that made him shiver inside his warm coat. "Hutch?" he called out. "You out here?"

   "Here," Hutch said, quietly. He was leaning against the same tree where Starsky had found him this morning, looking up.

   Starsky walked over to him. "What is it?" he asked.

   "Look," Hutch said, pointing up into the sky.

   Starsky looked, but he couldn't see anything but the night sky. "What am I lookin' at?" he asked, finally.

   "The sky," Hutch said, his voice a low and reverent hush.

   Starsky looked again, and this time realized what he was supposed to be seeing. The moon was making its way up into the sky, and the stars were twinkling - literally thousands of them, it seemed, all bright and glowing, some streaking through the velvet blackness of the sky. It was nothing that could ever be seen from their place in Bay City, with a city full of electric lights that blazed all night and overpowered nature's spectacle.

   Starsky moved until his back was pressed up against Hutch's chest, and Hutch happily took the hint, sliding his hands into the front pockets of Starsky's jeans. They stood there a while, silent, until Starsky shivered.

   "Wood," Hutch said.

   "Mm," Starsky agreed, but they stood there a little while longer, before gathering armfuls of wood to bring inside.

   Hutch proved himself surprisingly adept at building a fire - something about being a 'boy scout at heart,' Starsky said - and they settled down in front of it when it was blazing away, Hutch on the floor leaning against a chair, Starsky stretched out full-length, with his head on Hutch's lap. It was cozy and quiet and Starsky had almost drifted off to sleep when Hutch suddenly kissed him. Under the circumstances, he kissed back.

   "I forgot," Hutch said, pulling away with a smile. "I'm supposed to let you sleep tonight, so we can get up early tomorrow."

   "Or," Starsky said, rubbing his fingertips over his lover's mustache, "we could both sleep in tomorrow and get up early the day after."

   "We could do that," Hutch agreed, kissing those wandering fingertips. "Or even the day after that."

   "True," Starsky said. "They have sunrises every morning around here, right?"

   "Yup." Hutch bent his head again, stealing another lazy kiss. "It's in the brochure. It's how they get people to buy cabins around here."

   "Oh, is that how they do it?" Starsky said.

   "How else?"

   "I couldn't imagine."

********

********

   They made a bed right in front of the fireplace, out of pillows and blankets stolen off the couch. Hutch lingered over undressing his partner, especially when he'd stripped away everything but the long red underwear, teasing both Starsky and himself by undoing half the buttons with his teeth. Eventually, however, lust overcame him and he pulled the rest of the soft fabric open and off somewhat less gently, careful only not to tear it.

   Once they were both naked, Hutch found his anxiety arrested once again, and paused just to look. Starsky was sprawled out on his back over the blankets, a half-grin, half-smirk on his face and eyes that were heavy-lidded but watchful, reading Hutch's mind yet again. Of course, it wasn't difficult to figure out what he was thinking; his hungry eyes eagerly devoured the dark-haired tempter before him. Hutch swallowed heavily, and planted his hands on either side of Starsky's biceps, leaning over him. "You," he said, lowering his mouth, "will be my downfall."

   "You think so?"

   "Mm-hmm. You're my greatest weakness and my biggest temptation. Especially like this."

   "What'm I like?" Starsky asked innocently, fishing.

   "You're mine. You're just lying there, waiting for me to take my pleasure." Hutch paused to stroke a finger over Starsky's wet bottom lip. "And you know that whatever I do to you, it'll never be enough. You'll always want more - and I'll always want to give you more. I'll never have enough of you."

   "You better not."

   "It's not possible. Not unless we somehow end up in the same body one of these days."

   Starsky's eyes glinted. "Seems to me we've come close to that, a coupla times."

   "Don't tempt me," Hutch warned, grazing his lips barely across Starsky's.

   "That's what'm here for," Starsky said. "To tempt you, remember?" He laced his fingers loosely together around the back of Hutch's neck, pulling him closer.

   Hutch could barely make himself speak. "Oh, yeah?"

   "Yeah. I must not be doin' a very good job if you're still just thinkin' about what you want, though."

   Hutch growled, low in his throat, and released himself onto his lover, finally, taking his mouth in a breath-stealing kiss that lasted nearly past the limits of his own endurance. Starsky, too, was panting when they finally broke apart - and that was what it felt like, to Hutch, like a part of him was breaking, deep inside.

   He kissed a trail down Starsky's chest, stopping only to remove Starsky's hands from his hair and press them against the blankets. Glancing up, he was met once again by the searing heat of those glittering blue eyes, and Starsky took the hint, his body going lax. Later, it would be his turn to drive them both wild, but right now, Hutch wanted the freedom to explore.

   He swirled his tongue in Starsky's navel, making the body underneath him shiver, then deftly moved away, giving the half-hard penis only a glancing lick before moving lower still. He nuzzled his mustache against the soft skin of Starsky's inner thighs, causing another full-body-earthquake as Starsky struggled not to respond. It was futile, but Hutch gave him points for the attempt, and when he bit and then licked that tender skin, moving from knee to hipbone, the writhing in his partner was near-constant.

   Hutch pulled himself up on his knees and used his hands to push Starsky's legs further apart, drawing his feet up flat against the floor. He found himself less in the mood for a slow seduction, and knew that feeling was echoed in his partner, if the fullness of his erection was any indication.

   Hutch himself was aching he was so hard, and he pushed two fingers into Starsky's mouth, wetting them before he thrust inside the willing body that opened so easily to his touch. He could never quite get past the forbidden thrill of this moment - the seconds just before he pushed inside, joining them. It never lasted long enough for him; although he'd heard of people who'd learned to draw out love-making into hours, the very touch of Starsky's heated body drove all willpower and stamina out of him - out of both of them. They were insatiable yet only human, and making love like this always brought with it the inevitable sorrow of being forced apart, afterwards. He thought, somewhere in the back of his mind, that he really was waiting for the moment when they truly became so close that they'd just be one person, joined forever. It was a sappily romantic sentiment that would have been embarrassingly unthinkable before a couple of years ago - but that meant something special, too.

   Starsky seemed to sense that he was thinking too much, and squeezed his muscles ever-tighter around Hutch's fingers, effectively bringing him back to the present. Hutch grinned, caught, and bent down for another bone-melting kiss even as Starsky wrapped his legs around his lover's waist and drew him in.

   They moved together with the ease of ages-old lovers, which spoke again of the instinctive comfort each had found with the other's body. There had been some expected shyness in the beginning, but far less than with any new female lover - perhaps it meant more to love each other's body as much as heart, or maybe they just wanted it more, or needed it more.

   Whatever the reason, it wasn't as difficult as either one of them had expected, and anxieties soon gave way to an implicit trust that nothing would be denied to or forced on the other. It made the sex almost too good, and added another layer to the addiction.

   It took Hutch a long time to get over his fear of that word, but it was the only one that really encompassed all of his need for Starsky. That it was reciprocated made it all the more heady and intoxicating, weaving in layers of unselfishness and desire and need and want that spoke as much of the giving nature of their love as anything else.

   Starsky made a small, gasping noise underneath him and Hutch pushed harder, needing to finish this so he could take his lover into his arms, take him to bed and spoon around him, hold him and hear his heart beating through the centre of his back. He came hard, fingers grasping at Starsky's hardness, coaxing an orgasm from him not-quite-simultaneously, before they collapsed together, boneless and temporarily sated in front of the crackling fireplace.

********

********

   "Hutch?"

   "Mm?"

   "Where'm I?"

   Hutch chuckled. "Bed, dummy."

   "How'd I get here?"

   "Don't you remember?"

   "Uh-unh. Last thing I 'member is my life flashin' in front of my eyes down by the fireplace. Think I died after that."

   Hutch chuckled, again. "You survived, just barely. We came to, cleaned ourselves up, and then came up here to bed."

   "You didn't carry me?" That was asked in an accusing tone.

   "Of course not," Hutch said, innocently. "You know my back."

   "Yeah, I know your back." Starsky's voice held deep suspicion, but he didn't press the point. Instead, he found Hutch's hands wrapped around his waist and tangled them together with his own fingers. "Love you, ya know."

   "I know."

   "Even if you are a pain in the ass sometimes."

   "Well, I try," Hutch said, dryly.

   "You do a good job of it, blintz." Starsky shifted a little in the bed.

   "Hurt?"

   "Uh-unh. 'M used to you by now. I like it when you get carried away, an' you never go too far."

   "Mind that I don't, babe. I don't ever want to hurt you."

   "I don't think you could. Not physically, anyway."

   "But in other ways," Hutch said, with self-reproach.

   "Mm," Starsky mused. "We both could hurt each other real bad, a whole lot worse'n we ever hurt other people in the past. That's why we gotta stay together, take care of each other. Make sure nobody else gets hurt."

   Hutch nodded, closing his eyes and pressing his face into the crook of Starsky's neck. He breathed in the nighttime warmth of his lover and once again tightened his hold. "Love you, too, Starsk," he said, after a moment.

   "I know," Starsky said, sleepily. "I feel it, right here." He pressed their joined hands hard against his lower stomach, and kept them there as they both drifted into sleep.

********

THE END