Title: Date Night

Author/pseudonym: Creed Cascade

Fandom: Starsky and Hutch

Pairing: Starsky/Hutch

Rating: NC-17

Status: new

Archive: *yes, oh, yes*. Just let me know.

Feedback: creed_cascade@hotmail.com

Other websites: http://insaneasylum.slashfanfiction.com

Disclaimers: We have a "don't ask, don't tell" policy. You don't ask where we get these strange plots starring mysteriously familiar characters, and we won't tell you that I make no money, only deliriously happy satisfaction. Very hush-hush.

Summary: Starsky and Hutch are getting ready for a date.



Date Night
By Creed Cascade


“Which shirt should I wear?” Starsky asked, holding up two shirts still on their hangers.

“That one,” Hutch answered. He didn’t even bother to look up from the paper he was reading when he pointed at the orange shirt with stripes Starsky was holding up.

“You said you hated that one,” Starsky insisted. He lifted the polyester shirt and held it up to examine it more closely.

“That’s right,” Hutch insisted. He shook the paper impatiently and tried to go back to reading his article.

“Why would ya want me to wear an ugly shirt?” Starsky said, but he was already taking it off the hanger and slipping it on over a navy t-shirt.

“You look better in your red one.”

“I’d wear the red one,” Starsky said. “But it’s dirty. Still didn’t tell me why you’d want me to wear an ugly shirt.”

“Really, Starsk,” Hutch sighed and lowered his paper just enough to glower at his partner. “Where are we going tonight?”

“We’re going out on an double date…” Starsky started to answer and then stopped. “Oh.”

“Yeah… oh. Such a bright boy.” Hutch had a tendency to insult Starsky when he was upset.

“It was your idea!” Starsky protested.

“That doesn’t mean I like it!” Hutch snapped at him.

“Then we’ll just call them and cancel.” Starsky was already picking up the receiver, when Hutch plucked it out of his hand and put it back down.

“We can’t cancel,” Hutch sighed. He folded the newspaper and laid it down on the coffee table.

“But Hutch, I don’t want to go on a date,” Starsky said. He was starting to unbutton the orange shirt and smiled at Hutch. “I’ll go put on my red shirt. We’ll order some pizza. Or if ya wanna go out, we could go see a movie.”

“I already told you, we can’t cancel,” Hutch told Starsky. “It’s been too long since we’ve been out on dates. Even Dobey made a comment yesterday.”

Starsky sat down on the coffee table, across from Hutch. He laid his hand on Hutch’s thigh, slowly rubbing his thumb over the material. “So, that’s what got ya spooked?”

“We’re going to go out with those damn girls tonight,” Hutch snapped. “We’re going to show them a good time. We have to.”

Starsky looked down, not meeting his eyes, but his hand still warm on Hutch’s thigh. “Don’t hafta do anything,” he mumbled.

“Ah, Starsk,” Hutch sighed. He reached out and started to run his hand through Starsky’s curls. “We’ll just take them out. Worst that’ll happen is maybe a few kisses. We’ll take them back to my place after a little dinner and dancing. You like dancing.”

“Don’t like it that much,” Starsky mumbled again. He was working himself into a sulky mood, but had a tendency to whatever Hutch wanted.

Hutch’s hand moved to Starsky’s chin and forced their gazes to meet. “We take them back to my place,” Hutch insisted. “We charm them. We kiss them and then we send them home.”

“Send them home?” Starsky was a little taken back.

Hutch always insisted they take a few girls out every once in a while just to keep any rumours down. Part of that was sleeping with the girls after a few dates, or sooner if they were willing. The girls would usually break up with them when they saw they weren’t serious. Sending them home on the first date was a new development.

“Yeah, send them home,” Hutch said. Now his thumb was stroking over Starsky’s lips. “Already arranged for Huggy to call here around 11:30. We’ll just tell the girls it’s police business and then send them home in a cab.”

“Don’t hafta sleep with them?” Starsky repeated back slowly.

“Not this time,” Hutch assured him and smiled softly at his partner.

“I’ll wear my ugly orange shirt then,” Starsky said, smiling back. “But if Huggy doesn’t call by 11:30, I’ll throw them out myself… claim food poisoning if I hafta.”

Hutch leaned closer and kissed Starsky. Their lips slid together easily in a way that was both comfortable and erotic every time. When they broke away, they rested their foreheads together.

“When you’re kissing her, think of me so you get hard,” Hutch whispered to him. “After they’re gone, I’ll take care of you.”

“Ya always take care of me, Hutch.”

*

They’d met the girls at a restaurant they frequented, not surprised when the girls slipped their number into the take out bag. Two girls in their early twenties who worked at a fast food joint made for a good enough cover and in the past, they made a good lay. He’d been sleeping with Starsky since they been in the academy, but each still saw women on the side. It was the 1970s and it was just the way people operated. A “friendship with fringe benefits” all wrapped in an unbeatable partnership at work. It was the way to live, or at least, it had been.

Starsky had been showing signs that he wanted to settle down for well over a year. Sure, he still flirted like he did with anything on two legs, but Hutch could tell that was all it was. Rosey Malone had burnt Starsky, but it was loosing Terry that really changed things. Starsky had an understanding with Terry. She understood what they shared and didn’t come between Starsky and Hutch. Starsky would have married her, had a few kids, but would have still belonged to Hutch.

It had been so quick with Gillian, but still he would have had a similar understanding with her. Both Terry and Gillian were women who would have let them keep their relationship, turning a blind eye, but both Terry and Gillian were dead. There was no one else, except each other.

“Oh, what a groovy shirt, Dave!” the blonde girl squealed, interrupting Hutch’s thoughts.

Hutch scowled when he saw the girl all but crawling into Starsky’s lap. “Starsky,” he said.

“What?” Starsky asked, looking back at him.

“No, I was telling her you liked to be called Starsky, not Dave,” Hutch commented.

“Oh really, Ken,” his own date laughed. “Next you’ll be asking me to call you Hutch.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Hutch told her, giving her a patronizing smile.

“Hutch just woke up on the wrong side of the bed,” Starsky told the girls and gave them a charming smile that infuriated Hutch even more. For all of his protests about not wanting to go out on a date, he always had fun. People loved Starsky and that damned girl was touching him.

“You should know, you were there,” Hutch snapped.

Starsky paled a little, but quickly recovered. “That’s cause I had to wake his ass up for work,” Starsky joked without missing a beat. “And ladies, if you’ll excuse us, we’ll get some drinks and Hutch’ll be back in a better mood. I promise.” Starsky waited until Hutch followed him to the bar. “What’s wrong with you?” he hissed when no one was standing close.

“Nothing,” Hutch answered back coldly. His arms were crossed over his chest and he was starring at Starsky. It was one of those stares that intimidated anyone else, especially perps, but Starsky never backed down.

“This was your idea,” Starsky reminded him.

“And I’m here,” Hutch shot back.

Starsky looked at Hutch again and then seemed to make a quick decision. “Stay here,” he demanded and turned around. Hutch watched him stalk over to the public phone and dig for a dime in his tight jean pocket. Starsky dialled the number and exchange short words, probably with Huggy Bear, on the other end.

Starsky walked back to the bar, grabbing Hutch by the elbow and dragging him back over to the table where the girls were sitting. “Ladies, I’m sorry to say this, but I just checked into the precinct and we gotta report in.”

“Oh,” the blonde gave Starsky a disappointed look. “Maybe after you’ve gone in you can…”

“I’m sorry, really…” Starsky cut her off. “Sounds like this is gonna be an involved case. Probably gonna work all night.”

Starsky made arrangements to buy the girls another round of drinks and gave them money for a cab home. Hutch was silent during this entire exchange, only saying a quick, “Sorry and goodbye” before he followed after Starsky.

“Get in the car, Hutch,” Starsky told him and the door was barely closed before the Torino was peeling off down the street.

Once they were back in his apartment, Starsky exploded, “What the fuck was that about?”

“It was a joke,” Hutch answered. He took off his coat and dropped it on a chair before sitting down on his couch.

“You want people to find out about us?” Starsky asked him in disbelief. “We’re lucky that those damn chicks don’t have two brain cells to rub between them, or they would’ve figured it out.”

“Are you embarrassed by what we share, Starsky?” A simple question he knew would shoot right through to his partner’s heart.

“Fuck off, Hutch,” Starsky hissed, but he didn’t turn around and leave the apartment. He sat down on the chair, pulling Hutch’s jacket into his lap and hung his head. “I wasn’t embarrassed when you fucked me while you were still married, why would I be embarrassed now? Hell, I wasn’t even embarrassed when we’d met up at some seedy motel after we’d both been walkin’ a beat.”

Hutch was leaning back against this couch with his eyes closed. “We’ve been together a long time.”

“It’s never been just us,” Starsky corrected him.

Hutch raised his hand up to his head, already feeling his temples throbbing. “We can’t, Starsk. We had this conversation back in the academy.”

The one and only time they had discussed being together was back in the academy. Love at first sight was the only way to describe it. They ended up bunking together in the same room at the police academy and by the end of the first week they were fucking. Starsky fell completely in love, talking about Hutch leaving Vanessa. He’d even talked about them running away from the academy to San Francisco, spouting off silly dreams of a future together. Hutch had crushed most of those dreams that night.

He’d promised to leave Vanessa, but he wasn’t going to leave the force, not even for Starsky. He’d promised Starsky that they’d keep fucking and more importantly, that they’d make it into the same precinct someday to become partners. Starsky never talked about commitment again.

“I never said anything,” Starsky said in a shaky voice. “I haven’t said a single word since that night, Hutch. Not one word.”

“You don’t have to, Starsk,” Hutch told him. “I know you too well.”

“So what?” Starsky croaked. “Ya gonna leave me now?”

“No!” Hutch snapped and then his voice dropped back down as he tried to calm himself. “What I’m trying to say, dummie. What I’m trying to say is that maybe it is time we talk about it!”

“Talk about what?” Starsky asked warily. His eyes were suspiciously red and puffy.

“Us,” Hutch said. “About… just us.”

“Just us…” Starsky repeated, his mouth hanging open a little bit.

“Yeah, just us. I know you’ve been thinking about it for a while now,” Hutch said. “So have I. It’s been a long time since I could fuck a woman without having to think about you just to get hard.”

“Gee, thanks,” Starsky grumbled. “That’s even better than hearing ya say you love me.”

“Starsk…” Hutch growled in exasperation. “I’m trying to say I think about you all the time. The reason I acted so damn pissy tonight was simple. I couldn’t stand seeing that bimbo touching you. The only reason I suggested we go on a double date was so that no one could take you away from me. If Dobey ever suspected that we…”

“He won’t find out,” Starsky insisted. “You were right, we gotta keep dating. Maybe not as often, but we still gotta do it. Maybe find us a few steady girlfriends…”

Hutch’s head snapped up. “I thought we agreed…” he started to rant, his eyes glittering possessively.

“Hutch, shut up,” Starsky cut him off. “I’m not some Dumbo. I’ve got a plan. There’s girls out there like us who need a cover. We find a pair of them and date them for a few months. Bingo, problem solved.”

“You mean beards…” Hutch couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Oh, look at you with all the gay talk,” Starsky snorted. “Already gettin’ into the gig.”

“It might work,” Hutch agreed. “We’ll discuss it after…”

“After what?” Starsky asked with a raised eyebrow.

“After you come over here and fuck me.”

Hutch was barely able to finish the sentence before Starsky launched himself on his lover. Hutch was more than happy to peel off the ugly orange shirt and even more happy to help Starsky out of his skintight jeans.

He rubbed his hand over Starsky’s ass appreciatively. “Commando?”

“You know damn well I usually do,” Starsky said, smacking Hutch’s hip lightly in punishment for the delay. Soon they were both naked and Starsky’s hand came out victorious from his search in between the couch cushions when he produced the lube. “Don’t ever complain about me being a slob again, Blondie.”

Hutch wasn’t able to give a sarcastic reply back because Starsky quickly covered his mouth with own, slipping his tongue inside. Starsky was remarkably agile, able to keep their lips together and still managing to push two fingers into Hutch. After being together for so many years, it didn’t take much preparation.

Starsky only broke the kiss to lube his cock and sink deep into Hutch, carefully keeping the long legs on his shoulders. The couch creaked dangerously as Starsky pounded into Hutch, letting the neighbour’s know there was action going on at Venice Place. Hutch worked his own cock in time with Starsky’s thrusts, crying out when he came. It happened like this almost every time, but each time was wonderful for Starsky, whether he was on the top or bottom. Hutch’s orgasm pulled Starsky into the growing pleasure and he came, mumbling a litany of swears.

He collapsed onto Hutch and started to kiss his lover’s chest, leaving a bright love bite. “Ya can blame it on your date,” Starsky mumbled, laying his head on Hutch’s chest.

“Yeah, and the squad’ll buy that I was dating a piranha?” Hutch chuckled. His hand was busy pushing away sweaty curls from Starsky’s forehead. He felt like he could breath again now that he had made a final commitment to Starsky.

“Well, they do say you’ll pretty much take anything,” Starsky shot back.

“Shut up, Starsk,” Hutch groaned affectionately and rolled his eyes. “Or I won’t take you out for a date tomorrow.”

“Taking your old ball ‘n’ chain out before it gets rusty, good move,” Starsky agreed, but he was already drifting to sleep.

Hutch knew he’d pay for the funny body position and Starsky’s weight on him later, but he didn’t care. They were finally together. “Old ball ‘n’ chain, my ass…” he mumbled back to Starsky and closed his own eyes.



END.