Going Home: Arrival
He was on my case. Again. I guess Starsky knows what he's doing. Not that I know, really. And here we are, in Duluth airport, just in time for Thanksgiving.
Thanksgiving with the folks. Hah. The only thing I want to give thanks for is Starsky and that he survived the… the… ‘incident'. See, I can't even name it properly, still. And it's been more'n two years now.
There he is, looking at some card stand. Like we're tourists. And we are, I guess. I love the way he bends over to examine a card. Love the line of the neck and his back — and that ass. Displayed even better than the cards. Want to touch it. It's all mine, now.
Never knew I could be so protective, feeling ownership like that. But I do — and he lets me. Isn't that the greatest thing?
I finally realize that I can always come home to him. A little late to understand I don't have to come here to go home — my home came with me. And now he's pulling at me, telling me to get a move on or else we'll be late. Late for what, I almost ask. I'd rather stay here, watching him.
Starsky's gone to fetch the rental car I insisted on, and having nothing else to do and thinking of where we're heading, I can't help noticing the ‘parent visit' tension settling in my shoulders. It's the usual start to a visit and I wonder why it feels so natural — like I'd miss it if it didn't show up. Oh, well, when we leave, I'm going back home with him. Back home with my home. So I feel mostly all right — just have to deal with the next few days and it'll be over, like it always is.
"Hey, Hutch, who told the rental folks about your taste in cars? You should've let me handle the reservation."
Ah, yes. Here he is. The love of my life, rolling his eyes and looking exasperated. I must admit that even I didn't expect the rental company to give me such a clunker when I asked for something cheap. He'll want my ass for this, I think. Then I blush.
I'm driving, of course. I can feel my shoulders tense up more, and I hear myself babbling about this or that landmark from my childhood, and suddenly I feel his hand on my shoulder. I'm here, the hand says. I feel my shoulders ease up a little, now that Starsky is here, too.
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