#hutch loves starsky

[typicalopposite]

Starsky and Hutch Fic

Prologue | Chapter One | Read on Ao3

Chapter Two : The Burden of Knowing

Beta’d By : @scripted-downfall

Starsky woke up to the heat of sunlight pouring in through all his — now fully open — windows. He was kept up by the arrival of a massive headache from the poor choices of the night before. It wasn’t until he registered the aroma of bacon and coffee, though, that he found the will to get himself off the couch.

“Morning, Sleeping Beauty,” he heard Hutch laugh from the kitchen. “Looks like you made it through the night.” 

“Hutch?” He tried to fight the raging pain in his head so he could open his eyes. “When did you get here?” 

“Never left.” 

Through his barely opened eyes, he could make out Hutch walking over to him; he felt his partner's hand on his shoulder, turning him towards the table, felt it move down to his back to gently urge him to go walk to the table and sit down. He did, but the hand lingered — now back on his shoulder — like the day before in Dobey’s office. Starsky felt frozen. He kept his eyes focused on the table in front of him. Then Hutch moved the hand from his shoulder, up the back of his neck and to his cheek. Hutch patted his face, and it — thankfully — seemed to take the intimacy out of the gesture. 

“Eat.” Hutch said softly, and only then did Starsky register what was in front of him. A plate full of bacon with eggs and toast. Starsky’s mouth watered just looking at it; he was practically drooling when he took a deep inhale of the heavenly scent. Hutch smirked, looking proud of his work. He sat down on the other side of the table and sipped his coffee. 

Starsky picked up the first strip and ate it slowly, savoring the flavor and the perfection of the crisp. The second, he ate faster… and the third he had to nibble on, as he was reminded that he did in fact still have a hangover. “Where’s yours?”, he asked, moving from the food to his coffee. 

“Starsk, you know I don’t eat this junk.” 

“You could have made yourself something else; I got stuff in there you like. Hell, it’s only in there for you… ‘cause I ain’t eating the health-nut rabbit food.” 

Hutch laughed and took another sip of his coffee. “Yeah I saw it… I– Uh– well, I’m not too hungry this morning.” 

Starsky looked up at him.  He was going for a confused look, but he knew the worry was probably there. “Oh… Is– Is everything alright?”, he asked. 

“Yeah,” Hutch said without hesitation. 

“I, uh, I didn’t put my foot in my mouth last night… or do something… stupid, or anything… Did I?” 

“Nah, Starsk. Nothing happened.” Hitch sounded convincing enough; Starsky relaxed, chipping away at the meat mountain a little more. 

“M’still sorry…”, he said between bites. He glanced up at Hutch who, of course, looked confused. “About getting so hammered you had to drag my drunk ass home and sleep here on– Wait.  Hutch, where did you sleep?” 

“Well…” Hutch smugly flashed his pearly whites at Starsky. “You were on the couch… and you only have one couch.” 

“You left me on the couch and slept in my bed?”, Starsky glared at him. 

“Like a baby.” 

S&H

Hutch was lying through his teeth.

After he’d returned the letter to Starsky’s wallet and gently slid the wallet back into his pocket, he’d sat on the floor beside the couch and — as creepy as it seemed, thinking back on it — just stared at his sleeping partner. His fingers had itched to reach out and touch him. Rub a hand up his back; run his fingers through his hair; turn him over and cover his face with the kisses he had held in for so many years. He could, after all, couldn’t he… Now that he knew what he knew. Although, he wasn’t exactly sure that what he knew wasn’t only what he thought he knew. Therefore… he could be wrong. 

So instead of reaching out, he sat and stared and thought back on every single second of their time together that his mind would allow him to remember. He searched every memory for the signs that he had missed, the chances that he could have taken but was too afraid because he didn’t know the feelings were mutual; he thought back to every missed opportunity that could have been the spark to ignite a beautiful life together (not saying their time together wasn’t already beautiful, but to think of having spent it actually together… now that would have been a dream come true). 

He chalked it up to things happening for a reason. He supposed the obstacles and heartbreaks — the loves they had, and the loves they lost — had needed to happen first. He wondered if Terry was placed on this path of their lives to open their eyes.  And then he realized the sun was coming up without him having moved in hours, and his lower half was numb. He had gotten up, had a whole pot of coffee, made a second for when Starsky got up, and made breakfast while he was at it… pretty much anything to keep from ending up back on the floor staring again. 

“You left me on the couch, and slept on my bed?” Starsky asked.

No, I sat on the floor and stared at you for hours… He thought “Like a baby,” he replied, then wondered if it was a lie when Starsky had said it as well. Still, he smiled, and, unless he was seeing things, Starsky blushed before he bowed his head back towards his food. 

He shoveled more into his mouth and checked his watch; anything, it seemed, to keep his head down. “Aww hell!”, he hissed, picking up the last few strips of bacon. “It’s 7:30, and I ain’t even showered yet!” He hurried off to the bathroom, stopping by his room and coming out with a change of clothes. “And for you…” He said tossing an outfit to Hutch. 

“Starsk, I don’t think…” Hutch began, then looked at the clothes in his hands.  They were his. “How did you…”

Starsky stopped at his bathroom door and looked back, shrugged. “I dunno they’ve just been here.  Figured I’d hang on to them, just in case… well… something like this happened.” 

Hutch looked at the folded shirt first. He recognized the shirt, and the pants too. “Starsk…” He looked up, but Starsky was already gone. 

S&H

Starksy had lied through his teeth. 

After they found Forrest and Jeanie — after they’d hauled him off to jail and the two lovebirds parted ways — Starsky had taken Hutch home to rest, then gone back to Huggy’s to clean up their mess from the days prior. He found the tattered, dirty clothes Hutch had worn in his days trying to fight off the addiction, and he knew Hutch well enough to know he was likely to just throw them out anyway, so he figured he’d do it himself. Why he took them home and washed them, folded them, and stuck them in a drawer… he didn’t know. But he supposed it came in handy in the end, so… oh, well, right?

He got his shower. He got dressed. He got a sickening feeling from the long locked-away memories that resurfaced when Hutch followed suit and came out of the bathroom in clothes he hadn’t worn in years. The loose-fitting shirt, the dark blue jeans: clothes he had worn enough to have a history woven in them. A history Hutch probably didn’t even fully remember, but Starsky could never forget. Perhaps that outfit was a bad idea, he thought. 

— — — 

Quite a start to another day of awkwardness. Another day of stolen glances and avoided eye contact, of trying to stop feelings from bubbling to the service. Only this time was different, because, while Starsky was actively trying not to look at Hutch, he could practically feel Hutch consistently looking at him. 

“Is there– Do I have something on my face, Hutch?”, he finally just had to ask. 

“Huh?  What? No… there’s nothing… Why– why would you think—” 

“Because you’ve been staring at me for the past ten minutes!”, Starsky cried. “I mean… You got me feeling like I got a third eye or somethin’!” 

“S- sorry… Starsk… It’s– it’s nothing.” Hutch finally turned his attention to the paperwork in front of him, but, by the time Starsky was doing the same, he had that burning feeling of eyes on him again. 

S&H

Hutch knew he should stop staring. He knew he was making himself look quite suspicious with lingering eyes glued on his partner.  He just also couldn’t help it.

As Starsky fidgeted in his seat, Hutch wondered how often he avoided eye contact, and how often it meant something more. He wondered if Starsky always acted this nervous around him.  He wondered if his prolonged staring was what was making him act so nervous, and nothing more.  He wondered if maybe he was looking too deep into the letter and who the ‘he’ really was.

Great, now I just feel stupid, Hutch thought. 

— — —

Work was slow. 

Work was never slow, and so the sudden change made the tension thickening between the partners so much worse. 

They both could feel it. The rest of the bullpen could feel it. Hell, Dobey — peeking out at them from his office — could feel it. 

No one mentioned it. 

When the end of their shift finally rolled around, they could have cut it with a knife.

“Alright, enough!” Starsky snapped, looking up from his paperwork. They had been at work eight hours, and they’d spoken all of three times. “I can’t take it!” 

“Can’t take what?”, Hutch replied, also sitting his paperwork aside. 

“Whatever this–” Starsky furiously flapped his hand between the two of them and sighed. “–is! I just… what happened last night Hutch? Did I say somethin’?  Did I do something?!” 

“No…”

“Then what’s going on? Why are you acting weird?”

“Starsky, how can you say I’m the one acting weird?”, Hutch asked, looking up at him incredulously. 

“Be- Because you are!” 

“And so are you.”

“Hah!”, Starsky gasped, a hint of a smile curving the corners of his lips; for a moment, Hutch forgot about the silly bickering they were doing. “You admit you’re acting weird!” 

Hutch sighed. “Starsk, if I’m acting weird it’s only because you’ve been acting weird since whatever happened two nights ago.” 

“N- Nothing happened two nights ago!” Starsky claimed, yet again.

“And nothing happened last night,” Hutch lied. 

“Well… then stop acting weird!” 

“I will when you do!” 

“Enough!” Dobey bellowed from his office. “You two sound like a couple of kids out here with this back and forth!” The man stepped through his door and glared at them both. “Now I don’t know what’s gotten into you two, but you better both get it out. I can’t have my two best whining at each other for the other — or the both of you… whatever it is — acting weird!” 

Starsky and Hutch both sat quietly through the scolding. They spared a glance at each other, then looked back to Dobey, both offering a “Yes sir” once he had finished his rant and asked if they understood. 

“Now. I don’t know what needs to be worked out, or what is even really going on here, but your shift is practically over anyway. Go on, get out of here and… do something to put an end to this nonsense.” 

‘Something’ only brought them right back to Huggy’s, this time with both of them picking at the plate of food in front of them; both of them still acting quite weird; and neither of them willing to take that first step to opening up. 

— — —

Hutch’s head was resting in his palm, and he was hyper-focusing on the condensation building on his water glass when he heard the loud crack of a pool stick being broken. Oh boy, he thought, looking towards the pool table, prepared to have to jump in to break up a fight between two knuckleheads. He was definitely not prepared to see that one of said knuckleheads was Starsky. 

“What’s going on here?!” Hutch said, stepping between the red-faced biker man and his equally red-faced partner. 

“Curly-Sue hustled me!”, the man growled. 

Hutch looked back at Starsky, questioningly. “Whatcha looking at me for? I didn’t hustle anybody!” Starsky laughed and peeked around Hutch at the biker. “Man bet twenty bucks no one could beat him. I accepted his challenge. He is just a sore loser.” 

“I’m about to show you the meaning of sore!”, the man said, taking another step towards them. 

“Whoa, now just hold on…” Hutch said, holding an arm out to block him. “Look. Keep your money… There’s no need to start anything.” 

“What?!” Starsky gasped.

“My friend’s sorry if it seemed like he tricked you” Hutch continued. 

“What!?” Starsky gasped, louder. “Like hell I—”’

“Have a nice night.” Hutch said over him. He turned and gave Starsky a pleading — and disapproving —  look, pushing him back towards their table. The biker growled at them again, but walked out without a fight.

“Now why'dya have to do that for? I won that bet fair and square…” 

“Yeah, well, what you were about to get instead was a beat-down.” Starsky scoffed and crossed his arms, pouting. “You know what, Starsky, if you managed your money a little bit better… maybe you wouldn’t have to take some dumb pool bet.” 

Starsky gawked at him. “I– that’s not– I just– My money is none of your business, thank you very much!” His pout turned to a scowl, and Hutch almost wanted to laugh at him for being so childish. 

“Yeah...” Hutch said, taking his coat front the back of his chair and sliding it on. “Well, either way, you can get the bill.” 

Starsky sputtered some more and pulled out his wallet, which was as empty as it had been the night before. “W- Well I can’t get the bill.” Hutch stopped at the door and looked back at him. “Poor money management, remember?” 

For a moment, he thought about just pulling out his wallet and ending this before he exposed himself. 

Do it Hutch. If you don’t do it now, I don’t think either of you ever will.

Hutch took a deep breath. “Check your hiding spot,” he said, then swiftly turned and walked out. 

S&H

Starsky’s breath hitched.  His heart pounded. 

He pulled out his wallet and opened it, lifting his ID to find a crisp twenty folded neatly behind the letter. Shit. He panicked, pulling it out and laying it on the table to chase after Hutch. The blond was leaning against the wall outside of the Pitts’ entrance, waiting for him. Starsky stared at him for a moment, trying to read his face. He got nothing, so he pointed an accusing finger at it. “Why were you in my wallet?!”, he asked, poking Hutch in the chest. Hutch only sighed, brushing Starsky’s hand off. “You… You read it… didn’t you.” 

“I–” Now it was Hutch who was avoiding eye contact. “I did…” He finished and hung his head, his arms fumbling with the hem of his jacket before awkwardly being stuffed inside its pockets. Starsky didn’t speak, didn’t know what to say even if he could find the courage to form words. Hutch finally glanced up, meeting his eyes. He smiled, soft and sweet, and not at all filled with disgust, or rage, or whatever Starsky had been worried he’d see instead. “So, uh, are we gonna talk about it?” he asked. 

“W- What’s there to talk about?” Starsky said back, the soured feeling in his stomach threatening to bubble up and make him sick. 

Hutch tilted his head, his bright baby blues softening into that damned puppy-dog look. “Starsk…”

“W- what? Do– do you think it’s about you or something?” 

Hutch smiled. Damn him for it, but he smiled, and — Starsky could have cried as he felt the butterflies come flooding back, always so easily — it was that smile. Starsky hadn’t registered his knees betraying him until he was caught in Hutch’s arms. “Is it not?” Hutch asked, with the slightest laugh as he stood Starsky back upright. “Hey…”, he said once he had Starsky balanced on his own two feet again. He reached out to touch his arm, but Starsky flinched away. Hutch frowned. 

“I’m– I’m sorry, Hutch,” Starsky whispered.  He could feel tears building in his eyes so he kept them focused on the ground. 

“For what?” 

Starsky scoffed. For what? For everything! “For ruining our friendship,” he settled with. “I should have thrown it away.” 

Hutch took a step closer. He was standing right in front of him. Starsky still looked everywhere — anywhere — else. “But then I might have never known,” Hutch said softly. 

“Yeah, exactly.” Starsky bit his bottom lip to stop the tremble that had started. “Now–”

“Now…” Hutch must have moved closer. Starsky felt like they were basically touching from their chests to their shoes. He flicked his eyes up, then quickly back down. Then, Hutch reached out to him, sliding his hand under his chin and slowly tipping it up to face him until Starsky was having to actually try to not look at him. The hand under his chin moved up to his cheek. Starsky wasn’t sure what was happening, but he was fairly certain he must have actually passed out when his knees buckled, and, thus, was having a fever dream. He was afraid to, but he finally locked eyes with Hutch. “Now I know it’s ok to do this…” 

Starsky was sure his heart had stopped as he watched Hutch lean in until their foreheads were touching. A part of him screamed to go the rest of the way, while the other part told him to turn and run away. Both sides were thwarted when Hutch wasted no time closing the gap himself. The soft feel of lips on his own made Starsky sigh into the kiss (that he thought never would happen). They stood there for a moment, both unwilling to part from the other. 

Finally, Hutch pulled back, using the thumb of the hand still caressing Starsky’s face to wipe a tear that had finally toppled over. “Now, wouldn’t that have been a tragedy.” Starsky stared at him. He didn’t know whether to laugh or cry or scream. He settled for being the one to lean into the next kiss. Then, he held himself there for another, and another, and another. They were both breathless when they finally parted again. 

Finally, Starsky thought, as he allowed Hutch to take his hand and pull him towards the Torino.  He drove them back to his apartment and they sat outside for a moment, just staring into each other’s eyes. “So…” Starsky began, turning in the seat to face his partner better. 

“So?”, Hutch repeated, reaching out and taking Starsky’s left hand, fiddling with his pinky ring. 

“I guess this is why you were acting so weird today…” 

Hutch looked at him and laughed. “Yeah… I guess so. But what about you yesterday?” Starsky looked up at Hutch, and he smiled. 

Starsky’s heart seized at that smile, and the fact that it was, in fact, meant just for him. “Oh,” he said, thinking back to the day before, to his dream. “It’s– it’s stupid, Hutch,” he tried, already feeling his emotions rushing back. 

“I doubt that,” Hutch said softly, still holding his hand.  It felt grounding, like a missing piece had finally fallen into place. “But tell me anyway?” 

“I…” Starsky sighed. He blinked back new tears and looked at Hutch. “I had a dream.” 

“Oh?”

“About you…”

“Oh!” Hutch smiled and bounced his eyebrows at his partner. 

Starsky laughed. “Not that kind, but… you–”  He sighed; it sounded ridiculous in his head, so no doubt it would be twice as much out loud. Hutch squeezed his hand. “We were on the beach and you were… smiling at me.” 

“Starsk, it’s not like I’ve never smiled at you before.” 

“I know that, but this one was different,” Starsky told him.

“How so?” 

“Well…” Starsky thought back to the dream, to just after the arrest, to outside the Pitts. He felt silly being this taken aback by a simple gesture; he didn’t want to say it out loud. Hutch squeezed his hand again, dipping his head to meet Starsky’s. He was smiling, and Starsky felt tears fill his eyes. “There it is,” he whispered, reaching out to touch Hutch’s cheek. “Just for me…” 

Hutch leaned in, holding the smile until he was right at Starsky’s face. He kissed him, and, god, Starsky felt like he could really get used to kissing Hutch. “Just for you.” Hutch replied against his lips.

It felt like a promise. 

{{As Always Comment and Likes Are Soooo Appreciated! 💕}}

[theloopus]

gay 70s copaganda thesis is actually about the inherent homoeroticism of the western genre and the cultural image of the male cowboy it borrows from. or as Susan Sarandon once put it, "They got their guns out because they couldn't get their dicks out"

[meep-meep-richie]

Owen Wilson + headphones

[thats-highly-significant]

The inherent homoeroticism of 70s cop shows

[postmodern-blues]

It’s so interesting to me just how ahead of their time Paul Michael Glaser and David Soul were in regards to the vision they had for Starsky and Hutch. Like, in the 1970s realm of mainstream television chock-full of strictly episodic, cookie-cutter concept shows (like Love Boat my beloved) that exploited their concepts to their very limit and prized action/violence/comedy/etc over character development, they envisioned a show with relationships at the forefront in a long-term sense. They fought for a Starsky and Hutch where the cops weren’t just embroiled in violence and seediness, but one where what happened to the two of them and what they did mattered and carried through, building their relationship into the main focal point of the show. And like… that’s what TV is now. Almost all the mainstream scripted shows you see nowadays are serialized and character-driven. The Starsky and Hutch they wanted and fought for would fit right in among the shows we stream today, in my opinion. And I’m not saying that the way we make television now is necessarily better or even good (there are some pretty glaring problems with the current model both on the production end and the consumer end); I’m just saying it’s crazy how those two basically predicted the future of television just because they wanted their cop characters to be gayer.

Also, in my dream Starsky and Hutch where PMG and David Soul got all their demands met and had free reign over the show, they could do things like:

* Explore the fallout of the various hurt/comfort episodes (like how Hutch recovers from being addicted to heroin or how Starsky recovers from Terry’s death)

* Go in-depth exploring Captain Dobey’s relationships with police work and blackness (“Manchild on the Streets” dips its toe in, but we really don’t get much)

* Get more Huggy Bear focused episodes where we can actually learn about him

* More commentary on the morality of police work in the 70s, and of course:

* Copious amounts of Starsky/Hutch affection

[theoriginofcarrots]

Paul and David, Starsky and Hutch

Forever

feeling nostalgic and sad

[oldshowbiz]

[itwoodbeprefect]

moments that made me have to hit pause to put my head in my hands and process what i just watched. no sir we weren't kissing he was catching a cockroach with his bare hands. homoerotically

[bardicious]

I've noticed my fave ships always have some kind of element of equality in them, whether it's love, intelligence, morals, or trauma. Along with the fact that they have chemistry.

Examples:

Spirk: Literal soulmates.

Cherik: Love at first sight, first thing the other thought about for decades, literally live together on Genosha the last time we see them.

Hannigram: Love at first sight, disasters but they REALLY love each other. Also, everyone else outside them is a major tool.

Loustat: I didn't ship them till it was clear Louis was actually into all that. Also Lestat revealed to actually love Louis and Claudia (though he's fucked in the head, sure).

Starsky/Hutch: Literally partners (they might as well be married).

Hercules/Iolaus: Care more about each other than their dead wives and children. lmao. Have the same love for adventure and heroism.

Fivela: Miserable assassins, parents of the group, only two with braincells in the Umbrella Academy. Love each other quite a lot actually, despite their dark history.

Shules (Shawn/Juliet): Strong sense of justice, similarly playful, love each other dearly.

Chara (Chuck/Sarah): Love at first sight, dorky, intelligent, protective, badass, innocent vibes despite what they go through

Daniel/Vala Mal Doran: Traumas parallel, protective of each other, roles flipped (from Daniel's previous relationships), both emotionally guarded at this stage of their life

[garrideb]

an ad for SHareCon 2024, which will be held virtually September 27-29. Go to sharecon.net to learn more

[typicalopposite]

Part Two of Starsky and Hutch Fic (But I guess Technically Chapter One)

Considering going ahead and uploading the prologue to AO3, and just updating it a chapter behind Tumblr. If/When I do it will be linked >>Here<<

Part One(Prolouge)

Chapter One: A Special Kind of Smile

Hutch might as well have been glowing. The sun reflected off his golden hair and created a halo around his head. Fitting. Starsky thought, unable to take his eyes off his partner. Hutch stood, barefoot on the beach, toes buried in the sand and watched the ocean while Starsky watched him. 

But something that felt off. 

The waves crashing; the cool breeze blowing; the smell of salt water… it wasn’t any of that. Those things Starsky experienced every time he came to the beach. Then Hutch looked back over his shoulder, locking eyes with Starsky, and smiled; the ball was in the air. Did Hutch always smile at him like that? He’d only ever seen that smile aimed at Vannesa – way back when he was hers – or Gillian before that all went to hell; Abby, Jeanie… even what’s-her-name even got it a few times. But not Starsky… Never Starsky. Right?

Can’t you see it? How he loves you…

The sunlight dimmed. The ocean and the beach faded to black, and after one more look back at Starsky – one more loving smile – so did Hutch. 

Starsky’s eyes fluttered open, meeting with a bright stream of light from his cracked curtains. He looked at his clock; 3:00 AM. Way too early to get up. Work wasn’t until 8:00 and he didn’t expect Hutch until at the earliest 7:00. He turned away from the light, and screwed his eyes shut, hoping – if ever luck would swing in his favor – he would drift back into that dream for just a little longer. 

No such luck.

Defeated, Starsky threw his covers off, and sat up. He yawned, and stretched, ran his fingers through his mess of untamed curls, and pushed off the bed. He made a pot of coffee and poured himself a cup; loaded it with enough sugar to accommodate the whole pot, and took the first gloriously caffeinated sip. He kept the cup under his nose, breathing in the sweet strong aroma, while he waited for the caffeine to kick in.

He took a long shower; took his time getting dressed; then sat on the couch to wait. Like clockwork, at 7:00 on the dot he heard his door being unlocked.”Starsk I’m here – Oh!” Hutch stopped in the doorway and stared at Starsky staring at him. “You’re ready?” 

“I am.”  

“Ah… trouble sleeping?” 

How’d he know that? Starsky laughed, and pushed himself up from the couch. “Uh— Actually, I slept like a baby.” Hutch gave him that look, calling his bluff. “Is it so hard to believe I got myself up at a decent time to be ready for you to get here so we could go to work, huh?” 

“You know what, Starsk… You’re right.” Hutch flashed him a smile– not the one from his dream, because like he had already known, that was never meant for him – and he shut the door behind him. “You are a grown man…” He said moving through the apartment, looking from here to there, searching for something. “Completely capable of being disciplined enough to wake yourself up early enough to be completely ready to go once I get here…” Hutch lifted the lid to the trash can, then moved to Starsky’s bedroom door and grabbed the door knob. “Even if it’s never been the case before.”

“Hutch. What are you doin’?!” Starsky groaned as Hutch flung his door open and stuck his head inside. 

“Well I figure either you pulled an all nighter with a bottle… or a woman.” Hutch continued to scope out the bedroom.   

Starsky rolled his eyes. “I told you, I slept all night…”

“Like a baby… yeah I heard you.”

“But you don’t believe me?” 

“Starsk… I can count on one hand the number of times you’ve been ready when I got here… and I don’t even need the whole hand.” Starksy didn’t respond but held the front door open for Hutch to walk out. “And every one of those times were because you had pulled an all nighter with—”

“A bottle or a girl?” Starsky finished. They went to their respective sides of the Torino and got in. Starsky turned the key and sighed, turning to face Hutch. “Look… truth is…” But when Hutch looked at him — with the sun shining towards him in just a way that it was practically creating a halo of light around him — Starsky couldn’t breathe, much less finish his sentence. 

Hutch stared at him. “Truth is?” He asked after a long pause of awkward silence. 

“Uh— well… the — um… truth is…” Starsky could feel his heart pounding; he knew if he looked down it was probably visible. His face was getting hot so he looked forward before Hutch noticed it turning red. “Truth is, Hutch… maybe you don’t know me as well as you think you do.” It was a true enough statement; if he did, he would know just how in love Starsky was with him… and wouldn’t that open a gigantic can of worms he didn’t need. 

He didn’t give Hutch a chance to respond before he had the Torino’s tires squealing, flooring it towards the station. 

Looked like it was going to be one of those days. 

S&H

Starksy was being weird, and for the life of him, Hutch couldn’t figure out why. 

For starters, there was no way he’d woken up to his alarm and been ready that quick… just no way. Then the way he’d just stared at him like he had a second head or something. What took the cake was his “you don’t know me as well as you think you do” accusation. He didn’t even know what to come back with on that one. 

Since the weirdness didn’t seem to be much of a hangover, he settled on it being a woman. Perhaps Starksy was simply pining over her, and he just hadn’t brought her up yet; if that was the case Hutch would force a smile and be happy, because his best friend was finally moving on, and he couldn’t very well let his own feelings impose on that. Even if he knew the jealousy would damn near kill him; even if it was getting harder and harder to hide his feelings every day; even if he wished Starsky would open his eyes and see how much he truly meant to him. 

So instead of saying anything, he chose to match Starsky’s silence and stare out the window until they arrived at the station. 

Then of course there was no time to even consider talking about it once they were inside, because the moment they stepped through the door the tell-tale “Starsky, Hutchinson!” was being hollered from Dobey’s office. 

Starsky still hadn’t looked at him, not since the moment in the car, but he finally glanced over, meeting Hutch’s eyes — and rolled his — with a crooked smile. “After you.” He said, stepping to the side for Hutch to walk first. 

“Whatcha got for us, Captain?” Hutch said as he  entered the office. 

“Are you boys familiar with the string of jewelry store robberies this month?” Dobey asked. 

“Five robberies in the past 3 weeks, all after hours, no alarms triggered, no witnesses, nada.” Starsky answered. He clicked the door closed behind him and leaned back against it, once again seeming to be avoiding eye contact with Hutch. 

Dobey looked between the two, and Hutch wondered if he picked up on the weird behavior as well. “Yeah. Exactly.” He said after a moment and turned his attention back to his paperwork. “I want you two to go back and question the owners again. There has to be something we missed. Something that connects these cases.” Starsky groaned and began to protest but was stopped by Dobey raising his hand and glaring. “No buts; so far we have nothing to go on, no leads, and like you said no witnesses. Someone knows something. It’s too much of a coincidence for five major jewelry stores to be hit and not one of them have anything we can use to catch the robbers.” 

Hutch glanced at Starsky, who didn’t look thrilled —  to be fair neither was he — to be chasing their tails with questions they already had gotten answers to. But Dobey shooed them out and it wasn’t like they had much choice in the matter. So they sulked out of the building, and back to the Torino, to head out on a wild goose chase. 

The first and second stores gave them the same answers they had before; this time with more attitude. The third refused to speak to them again and the fourth was closed for lunch when they arrived. Both men were thoroughly annoyed by the time they pulled into a spot in front of the last stop. 

S&H

“So you mean to tell me, you closed the night of the robbery.” Hutch began. The clerk nodded, looking between the two cops. “Set the alarms.” Another nod. “Made sure everything was locked up.” Nod. “Yet the next morning you're pretty much wiped out.” The man tugged nervously at his collar; guilt was practically oozing from his every pore; he once again nodded. “No alarms. No broken windows. No busted down doors. Hey, Starsk, maybe the robber’s a ghost.” 

“Or Houdini.” Starsky laughed, sparing a quick side glance at Hutch, before focusing his stare back at the questionably more nervous by the second store clerk. “Look, sir, all we’re sayin’ is it just seems odd. So if you wouldn’t mind, I’m gonna ask you again. Is there something you aren’t telling us.” The man looked ready to break any second. Starsky and Hutch leaned over the counter towards him. “Well?”

“O- okay. Look. I left the back door unlocked for him that night.” 

“Why?” They asked simultaneously.

“I was instructed to. He — He said he would pay me nicely. A- and he did. I received it from a stranger the next day outside my car.” Starsky eyed the man suspiciously, but he was talking clearly and certain for the first time since their initial questioning. “I — I mean I didn’t just do it for the money.” He continued, giving the cops a pleading look. “He said if I didn’t comply, he’d be paying me instead with a personal visit. Maybe he was bluffing, but I couldn’t risk it. My wife’s pregnant.” The man sniffled and covered his face as he turned into a sobbing mess. 

Hutch turned to Starsky; Starsky looked back at him. Finally Hutch sighed. “I don’t suppose he gave you a name, did he?” Knowing the answer before the man even responded, He sighed again. “Well.. thanks for filling us in on this… new information. If you think of anything else please don’t hesitate to call.” 

Starsky rubbed at his eyes, tiredly; annoyedly. “What’s the chance of this being the only one that was a set up?” 

“Slim…” Hutch replied. He opened the passenger door and plopped down into the seat. “Suppose we should go back and try one more time with the other stores?” Starsky sighed, nodded and cranked the car, whipping it around to drive back to the other stores.

— — —

In no time, Starsky and Hutch were sitting in Dobey’s office with five confessions. 1

“Five robberies, five paid off workers.” The captain said, shaking his head at the insanity he’d just heard. “Good work you two. At least we have something to work with. Now we just need to find a way to identify the robber… making threats like that, someone is bound to not oblige and end up hurt.” Both Starsky and Hutch agreed and stood to get back on it. “Maybe you could ask Huggy?” Dobey suggested as they got up. 

“Now Captain… that sounds like a good idea.” Starsky smirked at Hutch’s sarcasm. Huggy’s was their next stop after filling in Dobey on the new lead anyway. Huggy’s was always their next stop on tough cases. “Starsk, why hadn’t we thought of that.” Hutch continued, holding the door open for Starsky and placing a hand on his shoulder as he walked through; it froze Starsky in his tracks. Starsky could sense the captain’s eyes rolling at them, but his attention was focused on the hand touching him. The way he squeezed his shoulder; the way his thumb moved back and forth almost soothingly. It was a simple gesture. One Hutch had probably done dozens — hell thousands — of times. Why was this time different? Was this time different? 

It took him a moment before he registered he had zoned out. The hand was gone. He was being stared at. “Everything alright, Starsky?” Dobey asked first. 

“Uh — Yeah. Yeah everything’s… fine.” Now doesn’t that sound believable. Starsky mentally scolded himself. He figured he should say something more convincing, but instead he just walked past Hutch, and through the bullpen. If Hutch was confused by it — or even Dobey — he didn’t stick around to notice; but he really was beginning to wish Hutch had driven his own car. 

Thank god Huggy’s was close. 

— — —

Hutch didn’t mention it, so Starsky didn’t mention it. But the awkwardness was apparently not well hidden. First to notice was the waitress who approached them. “Hey boys, can I getcha anything?” She asked. 

“N- no… Thank you. J- Just Huggy.” Starsky said, then wished he’d let Hutch speak; damning his own vocals for betraying him. 

“Everything alright, Starsky?”

“I’m fine!” He snapped — and he really didn’t mean to snap — running his hand through his hair. “I just — we need to see Huggy… please.” 

The lady eyed him for a moment, and he tried to use every ounce of strength to look ‘fine’. “Hmmm…” She mumbled turning and walking away. “He’ll be right down.” 

“Starsk…” Hutch tried and Starsky shook his head. 

“M’fine, Hutch.” He sighed. “This case is just annoying and I feel like there’s something we’re missing. Something right there in our faces…” 

He dared to look at Hutch. “Yeah… Yeah I know what you mean.” Hutch said; he looked about as stumped as Starsky felt. 

“What it is…” Huggy said, relieving the awkwardness, and sitting with the partners at the bar. “What it do?” Starsky finally broke eye contact with Hutch and turned to Huggy. “Or I guess I should rephrase, What is it I can do… for you?” Starsky laughed; although it did make him feel a bit bad that it was apparent they were only here for information. 

“Hug, I swear if you can help us finally close this case I’ll buy one of everything tonight.” 

“You know I don’t mind helping y’all.” Huggy scoffed. “But… I do have a new item on the menu I think you’d find appealing to your taste buds. A triple bacon mushroom and Swiss cheeseburger, with a creamy aioli and my own special seasoning.” 

Starsky could already feel his mouth watering. 

“That sounds amazing Huggy.” Hutch said — well lied. “But first… what can you tell us about some jewelry store robberies over the past few weeks.”

“Jewelry stores?” Huggy repeated; Hutch nodded.

“At each one a worker was paid to leave the door unlocked.” Huggy thought for a moment. 

“Well… the only jewelry heist with talk on the street— that I know of — was an inside job at Rhudys.”

“Rhudy’s… that was the first store to come clean about leaving the doors unlocked.” Hutch said, nudging Starsky’s arm. 

“Apparently the mastermind’s ol lady is expecting, and I guess Mr. Rhudy don’t pay enough to cover the cost of childcare.” Huggy laughed, as the realization had Starsky and Hutch instantly up and heading out of the bar. “Alright I’ll see you two tonight… for Huggy’s Double Decker Special!” He yelled before the door slammed shut. 

— — —

Piecing it together was easy after that. 

The store clerk sang like a canary when he realized Starsky and Hutch knew he was behind the robbery. He even gave himself away as being the one to bribe the other store's associates as well. 

“Now, I don’t have children…” Starsky said as he clicked the handcuffs around the clerk’s wrists. “But I really don’t think it’s so expensive you gotta go and turn yourself into a felon.” He tucked the man’s head down as he pushed him into a squad car. He tapped the hood and the cop pulled away, clearing the space between him and Hutch across the street talking to the store owner. 

The sun was just starting to set, and the dim dusk light didn’t do much for illuminating Hutch’s features. Not that he needed them illuminated for Starsky to be mesmerized by his partner. He was staring again. At least he caught himself this time. He blinked a few times and looked around; at the sky, the Torino, the road… and then he came back to Hutch, who was now looking at him. 

Their eyes met. 

Hutch smiled. 

Starsky’s heart stopped. 

It was that smile…

S&H

Starsky thought he must look like he was in pain; he felt like he was… that was for sure. But Hutch crossed the road to him and looked concerned.  

“Let’s get back and get this report typed up then head to Huggy’s, huh?” Hutch said, nudging Starsky towards the Torino. He was hungry; it had been a long day, and he hadn’t eaten. Everyone knew that Starsky didn’t function well going that long without food. Hutch must have been an expert on the fact by now. Starsky was relieved there was something he could blame his awkwardness on. 

“Uh — yeah… Yeah that sounds good.”

“Starsk…” Hutch asked. “Is something the matter? Are you ok?” 

“What!? Yeah…” Starsky put on a smile, and he wondered if Hutch could tell it was forced. “I’m fine. I’m hungry.” 

— — —

‘I’m hungry’, he’d said, yet he sat with his head propped up on a fist, poking his burger with a fry rather than eating it. “Starsk…” he heard from across the table.

“M’fine Hutch…”

“Well you’re not acting fine!” Hutch pressed. Starsky flicked his eyes up towards him, and Hutch smiled softly; Starsky felt the dreaded butterflies in his stomach. “C’mon Starsky, this stuff’s your favorite! Pure junk!” Hutch picked up his own burger and took a bite; rolling his eyes in clearly forced bliss. “So… good…”

Starsky stared at him incredulously. Hutch’s attempts at lifting his spirits were unfortunately working. He could feel his lips twitching, wanting to smirk, then smile; he forced them to stay still. A smile would lead to a chuckle; a chuckle to a laugh; a laugh would only encourage Hutch to keep up his act. Before long Starsky would be lost simply in his being… so him. Stuck goofily staring at his partner; falling head over heels farther in love. Lost in a daydream that wasn’t real. 

And he was just too tired for all that. 

“Everything tasting as divine as promised?” Huggy asked, walking over to their table. 

“Actually Hug, m’not too hungry... ” Starsky lied. “Think I might just take this home…” He gave Huggy an apologetic smile after he went behind the counter and came back with a styrofoam plate for the food. “You know what I could use right now, though… something hard…”

“Aw, Starsk…” Hutch groaned. “You really want a hangover tomorrow at work?” 

“Yes.” Starsky said flatly. Anything would be better than having to go home with a head full of pointless hopes and never gonna happens. It might lead to more pleasant dreams that only end with him waking up to reality. Hutch sighed but didn’t push trying to stop him. “Make it a double, Hug.” 

Huggy looked from Starksy to Hutch, shrugged and obliged. 

S&H

That double became a triple; soon Starsky had to have been seeing stars because his eyes were simply floating in their sockets. Once Hutch decided he was well past three sheets to the wind, he put his foot down. “Starsk, that’s enough, let’s get you home.” He took out his wallet to pay, and Starsky swatted it from his hands. 

“I… gahdit!” He slurred. He stood up and swayed, almost toppling forward, as he dug in his pocket for his own wallet. Inside were a couple singles and a gum wrapper. He scoffed. Hutch again opened his wallet to pay. Again Starsky objected. “Hush! I said… I gahdit! Sheesh!” He lifted his badge, and slid his finger behind his license, pulling out a twenty and a folded up piece of paper.

“Your lady friend from last night's number?” Hutch teased. 

“Oh… shit… Sh- Shuddup Hush… you didn’t — you didn’t see that… ok?” Hutch laughed and agreed to pacify him. “Good… Lesgo…”

— — — 

Hutch practically carried Starsky the whole way from the bar to the Torino; from the Torino to his apartment. He tried to get him to his bed but settled for the couch, dropping Starsky down onto the cushions. Starsky landed hard, and instantly toppled to the side. He was asleep before Hutch even caught his breath from the workout. 

Hutch grabbed his legs and straightened them out on the couch, jostling Starsky enough he rolled over towards the back. Hutch went to his room for a blanket, and as he draped it over him he noticed Starsky’s wallet had fallen out. He picked it up and looked at his sleeping partner. 

He knew if he was dipping into his secret stash that was all the money he had until payday. Hutch was constantly on Starsky about not blowing through his money… but he was also his best friend. He pulled a twenty out of his own wallet and opened Starsky’s to slide it into place. The piece of paper was just poking out enough to be seen; Hutch contemplated for a short while, looking up at Starsky, then back at the paper. Quietly he pulled it out, chuckling at finding some girl's name and probably a fake number scribbled on the paper, completely unprepared for what he was about to read. 

Tears pricked his eyes as the quick realization the letter was from Terry sunk in, and a wave of guilt washed over him. He was about to just fold it up and put it back when he read something… odd. 

He had your heart long before I did…

And how could that not topple his curiosity over the limit.  

He read the letter. 

Hutch stood; frozen. There was a swirling mix of shock and confusion inside him. 

He will make you so happy… He loves you… 

He?

Hutch felt a cool breeze blow past him; he looked towards the window despite knowing they were all shut. You know who He is, Hutch. 

[mitochondriaandbunnies]

Rewatching Smuggler's Blues for giffing and. Paul Michael Glaser really did say Sonny/Rico 4Life, didn't he

There's a scene in Smuggler's Blues where Sonny is so freaked out and angry about having possibly left Rico in danger that he tries to strangle Glenn Frey, and then he pauses and gets quiet and weird.

He snaps the filter off a cigarette (...yikes) and asks Glenn Frey's character if he lost a lot of "buddies" in Vietnam. Jimmy says yes, and Sonny whispers, almost inaudible, me too.

And then, filmed so the sweat on his cheek looks like a drying tear, he blinks and tells Jimmy that no matter how much loss he's experienced-- that essentially, Tubbs is the one person he can't leave behind, and it's like.

Oh.

That is the exact moment that he realizes that.

We see, on screen, the moment that Sonny, who has up until this point refused to reflect for even half a second on what their partnership is or could be, comes to the sobering realization that he Has Feelings

Considering the next (and final) PMG-directed episode is the one where Sonny and Rico flirt at the airport while the music affirms that they're Home for one another, I think it's a genuine tragedy that they didn't get my best boy Starsky to come back at least once a season to direct an episode

[mobius-m-mobius]

🫂

[theblob1958]

when you just finish having closure-sex with your second ex-husband and then go hold your girl best friend in a loving embrace while kicking everyone else out because you two need to sit here in each other's arms for a long while

[postmodern-blues]

A collection of images that make me Fucking Sick part 2

[alverrann]

When I first started watching Miami Vice - over six months ago now - it was with Starsky and Hutch in mind. See, I'm a huge fan of Starsky and Hutch, and so I thought, "Miami Vice, a show about a pair of cops in the 80's? It's basically 80's Starsky and Hutch, right? That's right up my alley!"

So here's the thing: I was totally wrong about it being 80's S&H, for multiple reasons, but I was right that it was up my alley. Of course, I had no idea what I was dipping my toes into at the time, but that's exactly why I've written this post. Going into Miami Vice and watching it through the lens of S&H gave me some interesting insights, and I want to share one with y'all now.

Now on tvtropes.org there's a trope for when one character of a pair is more passionate or hot-headed, and the other character is calmer and cool-headed. The trope is flexible, and is referred to as Red Oni and Blue Oni. The trope can be more nuanced than that (or less) but that's the general idea.

It's usually pretty easy to tell which is which, and if you're struggling to tell them apart, then the trope probably doesn't apply.

For example: in Starsky and Hutch, Starsky is Red (easily excited and usually full of energy - also not as book-smart as his partner, and less likely to stop and think things through)

and Hutch is Blue (more reclusive, book-smart, overthinks things).

In Miami Vice, Sonny is Red (very inclined to react emotionally, and based on a lot of his habits is pretty impulsive)

and Rico is Blue (also impulsive, but more often with forethought)

Now here's where it gets interesting - at least to me. When I saw that Sonny was Red, my mind grouped him together with Starsky automatically. Same with Rico and Hutch. I thought I understood the characters.

Boy was I wrong.

Right at the beginning of MV, it really feels like the show wants me to believe that Sonny is a good ol', live 'n let live boy. It wants me to think that Rico is some kind of high-strung city slicker with a short fuse. I was totally fooled, too. That's not dissimilar to the vibe of S&H's relationship, and so I wasn't thinking all that much about it.

So for a little bit I really did think that Sonny was laid back and that Tubbs was pretty uptight, and wow, that is not true at freaking all. Yo, Tubbs is chill af (unless you’ve messed with someone he loves/his car), and Sonny is … so high-strung. Dude, I think he gives Hutch a run for his money.

And that’s the thing. When I first watched it, I was like Sonny is like the Starsky, and Tubbs is like the Hutch of the duo. Nope. Veerrry nope. Tubbs is the blue half of his duo - for sure - but he is definitely the Starsky. Just like Sonny is the red boi, hands down, but he is definitely the Hutch.

Sonny, like Hutch, feels too much, and they both struggle to bounce back from those feelings. They struggle to move on/move forward, and they tend to wallow in their emotions. You can see the way that their circumstances and mistakes weigh them down, and that even though they keep getting up to fight, they do so with less and less enthusiasm each time.

Starsky and Tubbs – on the other hand – are both street-raised New Yorkers that tend to be optimists. They look on the bright side of things, more willing to find silver-linings and more willing to move forward/move on. They still obviously care, but they are just ... I guess they're literally just more emotionally healthy?

Anyway, I realize that this is long, and now that I'm reaching my conclusion, it sounds sort of lame, but I found this so interesting, since I had to change the categorization in my head. I was only putting them on a scale of Red to Blue, and completely neglected what was essentially the y axis in my little mental graph: which I guess was optimism vs pessimism?

So Sonny and Rico are on the opposite extremes. Sonny is a moody red boi, and Rico is a cool blue boi. Meanwhile Starsky and Hutch are in the middle, Starsky being a cool red boi and Hutch being a moody blue boi.

This sounds really underwhelming now, but I'd love to hear anyone else's thoughts on this. Do you guys think that the y axis should be optimism vs pessimism? Are there any other things that stood out to you?