They drove north. And then west. And when they were tired of driving they found themselves in Yosemite National Park. They rented a cabin, then had a late dinner.

Hutch had done the early driving, but when his partner took over the steering wheel, he was content to sleep away most of the afternoon. As he got older, he found that rest and relaxation were things he enjoyed taking literally. The dinner had roused him, however, and he felt a peculiar brand of peace as he and his partner left the restaurant, choosing to walk the half mile back to their cabin. The spring air was pleasantly crisp and cool; and when the path took them far enough away from public places, he put his arm around Starsky's shoulders. The fit felt so familiar that he silently scolded himself, knowing that, had they not been lovers in the physical sense, he still would have made the same gesture, and he wouldn't have worried about anyone else. After all, he'd put his arm around Starsky a million times in public... and had never been concerned about anyone seeing him do it.

There was a cruel world to face, if they ever decided to be open, and it was a sobering thought. But Hutch chose not to share his contemplations with the man beside him, for they would have plenty of time for all that when they returned to their customary places in L.A.

Starsky had been unusually silent, perhaps even a touch shy, for most of the day. Hutch found the latter thought amusing in an endearing way. His partner was a monster of the worst sort if you were his enemy; but when you had his trust, as so few did, he gave you the most vulnerable parts of himself, a gift made all the more precious for its rarity.

Starsky reached up and squeezed the hand that was around him. "You're awfully quiet tonight."

Hutch hugged him closer. "I was thinking the same thing about you."

The smaller man leaned into the blond. "I hope we don't ruin it all by expecting too much."

"Hm?" Hutch looked down at him. "What do you mean?"

"Well," a bashful shrug, "we keep expectin' this week to be special, like before when we were in Kentucky. But, now, well -- "

"It has more a sense of purpose?" Hutch supplied.

"Yeah. I hope we don't ruin it by tryin' too hard."

"We need to talk, pal," the blond reminded.

"I know. But I wanna love you first. A whole bunch."

Hutch didn't have any desire to argue with that. To prove it, he suddenly stopped and faced his partner. He gently placed his hands on the opposite face, then, so carefully, lowered his head.

The contact was so sweet, so delicious, that, as Hutch pressed with his lips and felt himself get fuzzy around the edges, he wondered why they didn't indulge more often. Even in the past few days, their lovemaking had been quick and hurried, though that may have been because they both wanted to save the special moments for their time away.

At some point, he decided, they were going to have to throw caution to the wind and learn to allow their passions free rein, even while at home.

Starsky began to pull back, and Hutch's hands tightened their hold, one dropping behind his partner to draw him closer. This was too precious to abandon so soon. Finally, the other pulled firmly, grunting in protest.

Hutch released him, blinked in an attempt to clear his brain.

Starsky took a deep breath and reached to clasp his partner's hand. "We can't get carried away, babe. I got a whole agenda for tonight. And I need us to last all night."

Hutch smiled, remembering that first night when Starsky had been so brave, so adventuresome, so enthusiastic as they embarked on new territory. With his free hand, Hutch ran a finger down the prominent nose. "I love you, buddy."

Starsky gripped Hutch's hand in both his own. He quickly kissed it, then pulled it toward the cabin. "Come on."

Hutch followed, knowing his straining erection would never allow the pace the other wanted to set. He felt disappointed in himself, yet eager to fulfill his body's need.

They were inside now, the light switched on. Starsky was muttering something about "making ya feel so damn good", and Hutch grabbed him from behind, pinning the other's arms at his side. He held tight, whispered into an ear, "Can't wait, buddy. We gotta do it now." Then he assured, "And then we'll start all over." Abruptly, he turned the other in his arms, placed his lips over the opposite mouth before a protest could be uttered.

Again, he sensed the disappointment, but he was relieved when acceptance followed, for Starsky finally relaxed in his arms and began to return the kiss with enthusiasm.

Hutch felt for the waistband of Starsky's jeans, moved his hands to the back, then inserted them inside. The fit was tight, but he maneuvered his hands down, then grabbed handfuls of flesh in each. Starsky pressed against him, presenting a firmness to match his partner's.

"Can't wait," Hutch whispered again, squeezing tighter. He wanted so much to be inside this special man whom he had so much feeling for, but Starsky was too inexperienced for a rushed joining, and Hutch was too eager to go slowly.

The blond propelled his companion to the bed, pushed him down on top of it, then landed against the other. He rubbed all about the shoulders and arms while pressing his lips against the opposite ones. Nothing he did seemed to bring them close enough, yet he pressed all the harder.

"How do you want it, love?" Starsky managed to pant when his lips were able to turn away. Hutch immediately recaptured them, wanting only the warmth and heat generated by the contact of their skin and clothes. He felt between their bodies, found Starsky's fly, quickly pulled it down.

The phallus slipped out on its own, seeking his hand. Hutch fondled the head, then was torn between wanting to put his mouth on it and wanting to leave his lips just where they were. His own groin ground against Starsky's thigh, and he knew it wouldn't take much more for the explosion.

Starsky's hands were groping, fussing with the denim. Finally the snap was undone, the zipper came down, and both hands pulled at Hutch's jeans and underwear. As soon as the newly exposed erection popped free, the blond began working in earnest against the muscled thigh, as he couldn't stop now. His partner helped him along, grabbing at his ass, forcing him to move harder and faster.

His climax was such a relief when it came. Hutch closed his eyes, bowed his head. And then when the lassitude overtook him, he melted against the warm body beneath him.

But he wallowed in the pleasure only a few moments, knowing his selfishness had reached the limits of acceptability. With determination, he hoisted onto his forearms, then slid down Starsky's body until his mouth reached the hardness at the center. Able to go slowly now, he placed his mouth over the head and sucked leisurely.

A hand furrowed in his hair, gently gripped his head. Then the nasal whisper, "It won't take much."

Hutch worked his tongue along the underside of the mushroom-shaped area, sucked firmly. He brought up a hand and squeezed the scrotal pouch with the exact amount of pressure that he had learned Starsky enjoyed.

"Oh, Hutch," came the delicate whisper. "So nice."

Fingers moved down, felt his eyelids, his cheekbones. And then there was a subdued, "Ahhh. Ahh. Ahhhhhhhhhhh...."

Hutch tickled the underside once, then held his mouth still as the phallus reached to the back of his throat. And then the tangent bitterness registered with his taste buds. He swallowed delicately, knowing all too well how sensitive the organ was immediately after release.

Starsky let out a long sigh, and Hutch let the shrinking flesh gently drop from his mouth. Then he stretched out on the bed and snuggled next to his partner. "Thanks, pal," he offered quietly, hand on the other's chest.

Starsky brushed a thumb along the opposite lips. "You're real horny tonight, aren't ya, babe?"

Hutch briefly closed his eyes. "I just needed the edge taken off. I'm okay now, for whatever you want to do."

The other apparently had had the edge taken off as well, for he didn't say anything for awhile, and they both just lay there, fingers gently brushing up and down cheeks, chins, and noses.

Finally, Starsky pulled himself into a sitting position and started to remove his shirt. "Well, first," he said casually, back to Hutch, "I think we should take a shower and clean up."

Hutch had no objection, and he watched with curiosity as his partner went over to the light switch and turned it off. Then the other reached to a table lamp and turned it on instead.

There was such a sense of purpose in Starsky's manner, even in his speech, that Hutch felt that his partner had been serious when speaking of the "agenda". He couldn't help but wonder what the other had in mind. But he wouldn't ask, as he knew answers would reveal themselves eventually. And he found himself intrigued by the idea of an all-night adventure, complete with surprises.

He sat up and worked with his own shirt. "I think the shower stall is a bit small," he noted.

"We'll manage. Besides, you can go first."

The words were considerate, but the tone was more in line of an order. All the more mystified, Hutch undressed without fuss. He bundled his clothes and left them in a corner. When he straightened, he found that Starsky was also nude and following him into the bathroom.

The cabin wasn't particularly large -- though reasonably modern, as far as cabins went -- but the square shower stall was definitely made for single occupancy.

"Go ahead," Starsky prompted when Hutch paused outside it.

The blond stepped onto the ridged cement and turned on the water. He spent a few moments adjusting the temperature, then lowered the nozzle so that his hair wouldn't get soaked. Evenings at this altitude were cool, and he didn't want to return to bed with a damp head.

He reached for the soap, then realized Starsky was there behind him, pressed between his body and the wall; and having unwrapped a new little soap bar, reached around Hutch and began to rub it along his chest.

Hutch pressed back against his partner, so Starsky's arms could move more easily. The motions of the other's hands weren't particularly sensual, but they were thorough. The bar ran along the blond's front side, down to his pubic region, scrubbed along his cock and balls, reached to the area between them. Then Starsky straightened behind him, and the soap moved in a circular fashion up his side, into his armpit. Hutch raised his hands obediently, and the other side was done. There was a nudge at his back, and he moved the two steps forward allowed by the stall, and then the soap was at the back of his neck. Then it made its way down his spine.

Hutch had to reach to the wall, leaning forward slightly, when the soap reached his ass. There, Starsky scrubbed vigorously, almost as though he were threatening to push the bar inside. Hutch wondered if Starsky planned to do him right here in the shower, and was using the soap as lubricant. But one "accidental" brush back against the other revealed a groin that was only slightly swollen.

"Rinse off," Starsky told him, stepping out.

Hutch obeyed, doing so quickly. He enjoyed it that Starsky seemed to know exactly what he wanted, and was doing all the thinking so that Hutch didn't have to.

As soon as Hutch stepped out, Starsky handed him a towel. "Dry off and get into bed." Then the curly haired man took his turn in the shower.

Hutch dried thoroughly, then slipped beneath the covers. He felt warm and loved and cherished. He closed his eyes, drifting peacefully, even as his groin twitched with anticipation.

When Starsky emerged from the shower, he ignored his partner, turning his attention instead to his suitcase. He pulled out some toiletries then disappeared back into the bathroom. After a few moments, Hutch recognized the quiet sounds of shaving.

Hutch instinctively felt his own chin, though he knew that his skin was relatively smooth after shaving early that morning. Hair simply did not grow on him like it did on Starsky. The other always had five o'clock shadow to deal with if he were going to socialize during the evening.

When Starsky emerged from the bathroom yet again, Hutch watched as the energetic form marched over to the lamp and turned it off, leaving the cabin in darkness.

The mattress dipped, and then clean-smelling flesh was lying on top of Hutch's covered form. Suddenly, the aura of command was gone, and only tenderness remained.

"Love you, Hutch." The words were whispered and emotion-filled as a hand stroked back through the delicate hair. "Love you so much."

Hutch swallowed thickly, taking his partner by the arms. "Love you, too." He wished the light wasn't off.

Starsky straightened, pulling the covers back. When he spoke again, his voice had softened a further octave. "Babe, I need you to listen real close."

Hutch waited, having no idea what his partner intended.

Starsky gently gripped his partner by the ribs. "I need ya to lift up, so you're lyin' on your shoulders, and then you can curl your legs back over your head." Very gently, Starsky's hands dropped to Hutch's waist, then lifted, beckoning him to move.

It sounded strange and complicated, but if that's how Starsky wanted to fuck him, Hutch wasn't going to argue. Besides, the tenderness in the other's tone was making his heart swell, as if it were floating on a cushion of air.

He let Starsky lift him, then pull him a little further down the mattress. When Starsky paused expectantly, Hutch raised his legs, than propelled them back over his upper body, his toes brushing against the wall over the headboard. It was uncomfortable, and he was grateful when Starsky held him at the waist, steadying him. Then the other shifted so that the front of his body supported Hutch's back.

That eased the pressure, and then Hutch realized what an incredibly vulnerable feeling it was. He'd put women in similar positions before, but that was because it allowed his tongue to pay proper homage to their soft little velvet areas.

"Can you rest your feet on the headboard?" Starsky whispered.

Hutch felt with his toes, found the headboard, then tried to relax his feet against it. It was a good idea, for he felt the pressure on his shoulders and upper back ease even more.

"Comfortable, babe?"

"Yeah," Hutch assured, wondering why this was necessary. He just now realized that there was no way he could be fucked like this. His ass was much higher than Starsky's groin.

But Starsky obviously had something else in mind. The hands on Hutch's waist gripped a little more securely, and then soft lips kissed along one inner thigh.

Hutch smiled. "Mm."

As he expected, a moment later a kiss was felt on the opposite thigh. He felt Starsky straighten, and then bend again, kissing, then licking, at his scrotum.

It was a peculiar sensation, not particularly stimulating in itself, but erotic. And Starsky's ministrations were patient, telling Hutch that the sensations would be allowed to build before a climax was sought.

Starsky had always been the most gentle and considerate of lovers.

The washing continued, and Hutch whispered, "That's real nice, partner. Don't stop."

He was abruptly reminded that he wasn't in charge when the pleasant sensation did stop. Then a kiss was planted just beneath his balls.

"Ready for your surprise, babe?"

The tenderness in the other's tone wrapped Hutch in a warm cocoon. He whispered back, "I've already been surprised."

"That's what you think." With that, Starsky began licking earnestly at the blond's left inner thigh. His warm, wet tongue slowly moved closer and closer to the center, until it was washing the left buttock. Long strokes covered the area, leaving it moist, and Hutch twitched and shivered at the tickling sensation.

The brakes were put on just before his crevice was reached. The hands around his waist shifted, and then his right inner thigh was receiving the same attention. Only, this time, there wasn't just licking, but occasionally Starsky would press his lips against the delicate flesh and suck lightly. Hutch jerked when that happened, but decided he liked it and tried not to pull away. His penis was beginning to fill with blood.

When Starsky reached the right buttock he began kissing it in earnest, making "Mm" noises, as though he were devouring it. Then he went back to the careful, thorough washing.

Hutch closed his eyes. He'd never felt so cherished. And he loved Starsky so much for wanting to do something special, wanting to make him feel special and loved. He could keep silent no longer. "Love you. So, so much."

The right buttock was done. For an instant, Starsky paused, then he suddenly buried his noise and mouth in the scrotal pouch, kissing and licking.

"Oh, God," Hutch gasped. His erection was full and wanting.

The face left, leaving the tongue to draw a wet line from the middle of his balls, down to the seam underneath, then down past that... down his crack, past his anus, down further until it reached the tip of his tailbone. There, it moved in a quick circle.

Hutch shivered, his whole body breaking out in goose bumps. "Jesus, God," he whispered.

Before he had recovered from that bit of stimulation, he suddenly felt something soft and wet lap against his asshole. He flinched in surprise, and then realized with shock and disbelief that the tongue wasn't leaving, but was staying there and licking in earnest. His first instinct was to assure Starsky that he didn't have to do that for him. But the words died before being voiced, for the tongue was probing deeper, purposeful strokes that held no hesitation.

Hutch found his muscle clamping around it without his permission, and when the tongue paused a moment, and then again swirled around the wrinkled skin, the goose bumps returned, and Hutch felt himself shiver over and over. He cried out in a whimper, finding the stimulation almost unbearable, but still Starsky licked on.

Finally, Hutch could do nothing but groan over and over, for he did not how else he could express what he was feeling. It wasn't the first time a lover had licked his asshole, but always before it had been in a rushed manner. This was the first time someone was taking their time... stimulating him to the utmost.

His shoulders were weakening from having supported his lower body in an upside-down fashion. He reached up and grabbed his own ankles, forcing his tired legs to remain over his head. The tongue continued on, circling and circling, occasionally delving inside.

"God! God!" Hutch didn't care if the neighbors heard. His whole body was shaking, and his cock was on fire. He could wait no more and reached to soothe it.

A hand caught his wrist. And the tongue left him.

"Gonna finish you off, babe." Starsky placed Hutch's hand against the bed and pulled back. "Time to unfold your beautiful self."

It was over. Feeling some degree of relief -- for he didn't know what would have happened to his sanity had it continued -- Hutch carefully uncurled his legs and brought them down on the bed. He wondered where Starsky had gone until the lamp switched on. The other's eyes were smoldering with passion, erection jutting from his body.

Hutch collapsed back against the mattress, unable to speak. He was still groaning slightly, and closed his eyes, listening to Starsky fumble around in the suitcase again. Then the mattress dipped, and his legs were taken in hand, but this time hoisted up only enough so that his ass was resting on top of Starsky's thighs.

A creamy substance touched his anus and pressed against the barrier. The lotion felt cold as fingers spread it inside him. But it didn't take long for it to warm, especially when those fingers paused long enough to pay homage to his prostate gland. He whimpered when the feeling became so intense that he thought he might explode without further stimulation. Then the fingers were removed.

Starsky whispered, "Want a vibrator first?"

Hutch couldn't imagine waiting any longer. "No," he panted. He could feel where his hair was plastered to his forehead. "I'm all ready for you, partner." To prove it, he raised his legs and placed them over the other's shoulders. He was certain he would come the moment he was penetrated.

Starsky was coating his penis with the Vaseline lotion, and he looked up, eyes bright and intense. "You're so damn beautiful, Hutch. So beautiful."

Hutch never knew what he was supposed to say to that, so he only closed his eyes, still trying to recover his breath before he was stimulated all over again.

He felt Starsky lean forward, felt the heat brush along his crack until it found the spot. A push, and it was in. Hutch rarely felt pain anymore, just a satisfying fullness. As the thick phallus continued its journey, he realized he didn't want to come yet, and turned his head to focus on the lamp.

The penetration stilled, and Hutch heard the sound of spitting. Next thing he knew, his tiny nipples were enclosed in wetness, thumbs and fingers massaging in the saliva. He closed his eyes again, felt them harden, felt another quiver from somewhere within his body.

Starsky spread his hands at Hutch's sides, then slid the rest of the way in. He straightened, arching his back, and Hutch felt the thickness press along his prostate.

He wondered how much more he could take, feared the answer, and decided to succumb to the inevitable, though he was determined to take this special night to the limit. When Starsky pushed in again, Hutch raised up and locked his hands behind the other's neck. "Fuck me, lover."

This time, it was Starsky who obeyed. He began pumping with his hips, rapid stokes that attempted to arch upwards with each backward thrust, hitting that little gland again and again, faster and faster.

Hutch heard himself screaming, as every nerve in his body was overloaded. He was desperate for the trigger to be pulled, wondered if it ever would be, or if he would be forever trapped on this plane of unbearable pleasure, just this side of completion.

Suddenly, there was a hand on his penis, stroking the head, and Hutch screamed even louder as he felt himself tremble and ejaculate.

His arms fell away from Starsky's neck, and the other shifted to a different angle and began to slam deeper. A moment later, a louder cry joined Hutch's dying one.

* * *

Some time later, for he had no idea how much time had passed, Hutch found himself thinking that such intense activity could be dangerous. His heart was still pounding against his ribs, and though he was experiencing a wonderful lethargy, he wondered if he was now old enough that he should be concerned about heart attacks.

"Think someone might have called the fire department," came a lazy question, "because of all the screaming?"

With a lot of willpower, Hutch was able to raise his head. He found Starsky facedown, sideways on the mattress, his head level with the vicinity of Hutch's chest.

"If they did," the blond reached so his hand could drop into a mass of curls, "I've got nothing to apologize for." He didn't want to be melancholy, but couldn't help but gently ask, "How can anyone find anything wrong, or offensive, or 'dirty', in what we just experienced together?" As he expected, Starsky didn't bother trying to answer, and the taller man turned onto his side to face the other. He waited until his partner met his eye, then found a smile. "No one has ever made love to me like that," he whispered. "Never."

Starsky's smile was broad and tender. "I love pleasing you, Hutch, makin' you crazy." He reached to rub against the blond mustache. "There's all kinds of wonderful things we can do for each other, if we just take the time. And we don't necessarily have to go hundreds of miles away to enjoy them."

Hutch felt a touch of sadness. "We haven't been taking the time, have we?"

Starsky shrugged. "We've done okay. I just think that if we want it to be more than 'okay', we have to make the effort." He was thoughtful a minute, then, "You know, Hutch, one drawback to us having been friends for so long is that we already know all about each other. So we didn't have that courtship period like most relationships do. We went straight from the batter's box to home plate without hittin' the bases in between. I mean, in some ways, it's like we've already been married for forever."

Hutch understood that Starsky wasn't being critical, just analytical. Quietly, he noted, "I wouldn't change it for anything."

"I wouldn't either," the other assured. His smile broadened. "Especially the married part. But I just think, you know, that we can enjoy all the same things that young lovers enjoy -- the discoveries, learning what makes each other happy, all that. We just have to learn to let go a little."

Hutch closed his eyes a moment, then moved his hand to stroke up and down the furred chest. "I love you so much."

His hand was kissed. "Love you, too."

"It's so special," Hutch went on, desperately wanting to communicate his feelings, "being able to lie back and just be loved." He raised up slightly. "I want to do that for you, too."

Starsky nodded. "I'm lookin' forward to it." Then his voice softened. "But I really like doin' that for you, Hutch. I mean, I don't want you to feel like we have to trade off all the time, or somethin' like that. I don't have a problem with you bein' on the receiving end most of the time." A swallow and then his voice softened even more. "Because it gives me so much, to be able to do that for you."

Hutch's fingers scratched at Starsky's chest hair as he looked at the ceiling. "I used to try to figure out why I liked it so much." He shrugged, eyes darting to his partner. "But now I just accept that I do. Like Luke pointed out, there's no reason why all the millions of people in the world should all want the same thing. We should all have the right to just be what we are, without having to explain it."

Starsky threw an arm across him, snuggling close. "I love you," he said in a tone of agreement. Then a heavy sigh. "Think I'm gonna sleep real good, partner."

"So am I," Hutch noted softly. His eyes were already closed. After a moment, he added, "I'm going to live real good, too."

A hand patted him. And then Hutch was unconscious.

* * *

"We need to talk."

Starsky was in the process of buttoning his shirt, while looking out the window, when Hutch spoke. It was seven o'clock in the morning of their fourth day at the cabin. Their inner time clocks were all messed up for they ate, loved, and slept as they pleased. This particular morning, Starsky was enjoying the crispness in the cool air and was looking forward to a real breakfast, complete with eggs, greasy bacon and toast.

Starsky glanced over his shoulder to see Hutch sitting in bed, the covers up to his waist, being unusually lazy. Rather than being perturbed at having to wait on his partner, Starsky found himself enjoying how Hutch had mellowed out the past year or so. "Before or after breakfast?" he asked.

"Why not now?"

Starsky turned around, shrugged. "Fine by me." Inside, he felt a quiver. Before they made their way to the restaurant, everything could be changed. He hoped it would be to some extent. But he also felt himself a bit fearful of rocking the status quo. The known was so satisfying that he wasn't sure what the unknown had to offer.

Hutch folded his hands across his blanketed lap. "For starters, I think I should move out of my apartment. I'm never there anymore, and it's a waste of money. But your place is too small for both of us over the long haul."

Starsky tucked his shirt-tail into his jeans. "Then what do you wanna do?"

Hutch was thoughtful a brief moment, then, "I'd have to move into your place just for the interim, but I think we should look into buying something -- a condo, possibly even a house, if we can afford it."

It was so strange, making plans for living together. Of course, they'd made plans together for nearly every other aspect of their lives. But this was cementing it in such a way that things could never go back to the way they'd been before.

Starsky sat down in a kitchen chair and pulled on his socks. "I'm not sure I have that kind of money."

"Neither do I, at the moment," Hutch said. "But we've got about $5000 in our joint savings account. If we work at it, in a few more months we could have enough money to put down on something."

Starsky had just pulled on a tennis shoe, and now he paused, fingers holding the laces. He had forgotten about the money they'd won on Partner for Life. It had been placed on the back-burner of his subconscious, not to be touched until something....

He tilted his head and smiled. Until something special. For both of them.

The blond's tone was suspicious, as though he feared being laughed at. "What are you grinning at?"

Starsky closed his eyes. Swallowed. Then he began tying the laces. "Nothin'. Just remembering an old friend."

The other's voice dropped an octave. "Partner for Life?"

Starsky nodded and suddenly his throat was tight. He felt a little ridiculous, for the horse had been dead for weeks now. Just an animal. One he had never even touched.

But had been touched by. Quickly, he put on his other shoe and tied it.

"So, what do you say?" The blond's tone sounded final.

Starsky took a deep breath, pushed out of the chair and went over to the bed. He sat on the edge, looking at the other who seemed so eager for an answer. "You know, Hutch, there's a whole 'nother side to this. We start livin' together, how long do you think it's gonna take for others to figure out what's goin' on?"

Hutch's jaw firmed. "I'm not going to make the same mistake that Luke and Doris made. I'm not going to deny myself the life I want because of society's bigotry."

Starsky reached to gently take his partner's face in hand. "Okay. But livin' how we want isn't gonna change the fact that we have to be careful. We can't admit to anything, it'd get us thrown off the force. I don't think either of us is prepared to flush our careers down the toilet on a matter of principle."

The jaw was still firm, but Hutch reluctantly nodded.

"What we gotta decide now," Starsky said, "is how we're gonna play it." He released Hutch and leaned an elbow on the mattress, his arm brushing against a covered leg. "Are we gonna tease and flirt with the ladies to keep our covers, or are we gonna act like monks who decided to move in together to share expenses?"

Hutch closed his eyes. "I don't want to tease and flirt." Then he looked at Starsky. "I agree: we can't be blatantly open about anything. But if we don't admit to anything, or respond to anyone's taunting, the burden of proof will be on them. And the only way they'll be able to prove anything is if they catch us in bed together. And that isn't going to happen in the privacy of our own home."

Our home. Starsky smiled. Teasingly, he poked at Hutch's bare chest. "You sure you're really gonna be able to give up women? Forever?"

The reply was soft and serious. "Are you?"

It was a fair question, and Starsky thought about it. Then he said, "Look, I like women. I like how they smell and feel and... and just about everything else about 'em. And it's also true that I'd like to have a million bucks. But," he shrugged casually, "I do fine without it."

The tiny smile that answered was tender, and Hutch reached to stroke back through the curly hair. "I do fine without it, too. Especially when forever with you is the alternative."

Ah, he loved it when Hutch got mushy like this. Starsky scooted up near the blond's lap and put his arms around the other's neck, snuggling close.

Hutch's arms went around his partner. After a moment, he said seriously, "We need to tell Dobey. Or Huggy. Or both."

Starsky pulled back, having not considered it. "You sure?"

"Yes. Someone needs to know, in case...," Hutch drew a deep breath, "in case something happens to one of us. Someone needs to know what the other will be going through."

Starsky rested his forehead against Hutch's shoulder. He knew protests that it would never happen were pointless. After a time, he swallowed and said, "We should tell Dobey somewhere besides the station -- outside of work -- out of fairness to him. That way we'll be tellin' him as our friend, not as our boss."

Hutch kissed Starsky's jaw. "You think he'll be okay about it?"

"Hard to say." Starsky was thoughtful, then he said, "You know, there's been rumors about us for years." He chuckled. "Maybe, all this time, Dobey's believed them. Maybe he'll wonder why we're even bothering to tell him."

The blond snorted in amusement, then asked, "What about Huggy?"

Another moment to picture the scenario, then Starsky replied, "I can't imagine it bothering him. To tell you the truth, I've wondered sometimes if he plays both sides, if you know what I mean."

This time, Hutch laughed out loud. "So have I."

After Hutch dressed, they went to breakfast.

EPILOGUE