Going home: Home
It was late in the afternoon when Starsky pulled over in front of Venice Place. Hutch relaxed in his seat and let out a breath that he wasn't aware he'd been holding — a rush of air that lasted so long it felt as if he'd held it for their entire stay. He'd always felt tense when he went back to Duluth, and this time hadn't been any different. He knew what it was going to be like, knew what his parents felt about what he did and the way he lived. They had made it clear often enough. But now that he was home again, he realized he could let go of some of the guilt. They would never change, but then, neither would he, and he had Starsky to come home to now. Time to grow up, boy, he thought.
He sat completely still for a few moments, just staring out of the front window, and then got out of the car to look for Starsky, who was busy pulling out Hutch's bags.
"Hey, buddy, feels great to be home, doesn't it?" Hutch said, stretching and rolling his shoulders.
"Yeah, it does. Bet your plants missed you. You can almost hear ‘em calling out from down here." Despite the teasing, Starsky's voice was affectionate.
Hutch went over to grab his bags. "Want to come back later, after you've been over to your place?" he asked, hopefully.
Starsky went over to him and, looking into his eyes, he placed a hand on Hutch's collar-bone, pressing slightly. The touch of the warm hand, and of the thumb rubbing slowly against the pulse point of his throat, made Hutch's heartbeat quicken.
"Yeah, I will. It's good to be home. In fact, I feel like just staying here. Don't have no plants that need me like you do, right now." Starsky's voice was warm and a little rough, and Hutch felt his throat constrict.
"I'll fetch dinner. Want pepperoni on your pizza, Starsk?" he managed to get out, hardly daring to move.
With a smile that was almost a little too bright, Starsky said, "Pick up a six-pack, too, and we'll have welcome home party just for us."
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Early next morning, Hutch awoke, feeling strangled by the warm weight of Starsky who was draped across his upper body. He buried his hand in the dark curls and savored the feeling of closeness.
Starsky stirred, and one eye, only half-way open, looked at Hutch. "Wha' time izzit?"
Hutch didn't want to move, so he only whispered, "Early. It's early." Predictably, Starsky groaned and nestled closer.
That made Hutch smile. This was how mornings should always be. Feeling mellow and only half-awake, he was caught by a sudden impulse and said softly, "Want to move in with me? Think we could find a place to share?" As he heard himself say the words, he was surprised by how right they felt and realized how much he wanted this.
Starsky's head shot up, both eyes fully open. "What?" He propped himself up on his elbows, leaning over Hutch. "Damnit, babe. Of all the things to ask when I'm barely awake."
"Yeah, I thought now might be a good time." He let his thumb trail slowly along Starsky's smiling mouth, and drew him in for kiss. It was good to be home.
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