Almost Paris
By Karen B.
Summary: Secret Santa Story. Committed relationship/lighthearted humor and mush.
Thank you so very much, Hutchlover — for looking this over for me!
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I"m the first to admit when it comes to romance — I"m still in school. But I had come up with a list of ideas. Hey, if Santa could make lists so could I.
My list?
Five thousand ways to love Hutch.
This was number four hundred and thirty seven. It"s not the first number I"ve used, nor is it my favorite, but it’s the one I"ve decided to tell you about.
Hutch had gone through hell last year when I nearly stepped out on him. But that"s another story. — and this is a story about Hutch. I wanted to give him something special, and I"m not much for flowers, cards, or candy, and Hutch is the poet and musician. I decided the best gift would be one that sported a spectacular view. A view other than dirty ghetto alleys, thick smog, blood and gunfire. Hutch needed to get away to someplace where he could relieve all that wound up tension created by the turmoil of the city, and by me. Yes, by me. I was causing my partner undue stress and I knew it.
Take last week for instance. We had stopped to grab a couple cups of coffee and a bag of donuts when some poor lady walking down the street gets her purse snatched. Hutch and I tore after the guy. Chased him down an ally. The suspect disappeared a moment, but thengot the drop on me jumping out from behind a dumpster, and knocking me flat to my back. I was fine, just felt stupid and dirty, but before I could get up Hutch rushed him. Shoved the guy against the wall, and sank the barrel of his gun an inch into his gut. I"d never seen Hutch look so shaken. His shirt was drenched with sweat, he stood stiff and his face had turned bright red. For a moment I thought he was going to pull the trigger.
"Hurt him again, and I"ll kill you," Hutch growled, as his jaw clenched and fierce fury blazed from his eyes.
The guy almost pissed himself. Hell, so did I.
"Hutch, I"m okay. Just take it easy, buddy," I said as I quickly stood, grasped his upper arm and gave it a small shake.
My partner blinked several times and took a few sharp breathes before he stepped backward away from the suspect. He stumbled and I had to keep hold of his arm to steady him. Took Hutch a moment, but he regained control. We cuffed the guy and led him to the car. It just wasn"t like my partner to lose "it" like that.
Hutch knew I was alright. The guy wasn"t even armed, but his first instinct was to protect me, and that instinct was out of control right now. Sometimes I just wanted to coldcock him, and send him back in time — to before I got shot.
Don"t get me wrong, I love him. Hutch and I spent a lot of years trying to find that special someone that we could treasure. That someone who would be everything we ever dreamed of. My only regret — that we didn’t see it sooner. We wasted a lot of time before we both finally figured out how to turn our dream into our lives.
This was the anniversary of our first year together — living that dream. But, again that is another story; which comes with it"s own list.
I wanted to give him something special to mark our first year. Question was, what to give him? Is bigger always better when it comes to matters of the heart?
Probably not.
I decided to plan an intimate getaway to a place I knew he loved most. Almost Paris? Maybe to Hutch it was — a snuggly warm cabin in the snowy mountain"s of Colorado was as close as he was going to get on this cop"s pay.
Hutch still had a hearing he had to testify at, so I left a day ahead of him. I was glad for the time — I could set everything up — make it comfortable and perfect for when Hutch arrived.
The cabin was in the middle of nowhere, rustic and primal on the outside.
The cold made me shiver, and I belted my sweater tighter around myself wishing I still had my leather jacket. Walking around the length of the deck, I passed by two empty rocking chairs steadily moving in the wind. Rounding the corner toward the back of the house the scenery gave way to a dynamic view of the biggest backyard I"d ever seen. I smiled, this had Hutch"s style carved in every towering spruce. The song of birds filled the air, as a breeze whispered across the clear blue pond.
Not my favorite place — but like I said — this wasn"t about me. Besides, having a piss poor time shacking up with Hutch — ain"t no such thing.
Coming back around to the front door, I had to roll my eyes when I saw the doorknob. It was molded in the shape of a branch. Opening the front door, I stepped inside and surprisingly felt right at home. Now this was camping. No wind. No rain. No insects, and the only love sick moose for miles around — was me.
The first thing I noticed was a large stone fireplace, on either side of it two large bronze statues of wolves. I remember Hutch telling me once that wolves mate for life —the symbolism didn’t go unnoticed.
There was a large picture window with a magnificent view of the lake, and the towering pines were heavily dusted with snow. The ceiling was vaulted, and the floors hardwood — it was hardwood everything, floor to ceiling — a real indoor forest.
A set of spiral stairs led up to the cozy loft that had a king sized bed and above it a skylight. I smiled thinking about the greatest part of all this. Of waking to Hutch"s tender touch every morning, and lying under the stars with him wrapped in my arms every night. The not-so-great part was that I still had several hours to wait until Hutch arrived.
Deep sigh.
Exploring further, I found a sunroom full of lush green plants and in the center of it all a Jacuzzi hot tub. My eyes grew big when I found the game room complete with stocked bar and rustic log pool table. There was even a small library with a canoe shaped bookcase full of bestsellers and back to nature books. All the furniture in the cabin was overstuffed, the color scheme — earth tones — greens, browns and reds. I sighed. This was perfect. I wanted something special and I got it in spades. Outside, primal and rustic, the back to nature stuff Hutch loved. Inside, it was warm, and finely decorated. Even I was impressed. I dubbed it: The Beverly Hillbilly"s meet Daniel Boone — after "Ol Jeb became a millionaire.
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This was my best move yet, I thought as stood back to admire the warmth and soft light of the fire I had just lit.
I listened to the hiss, crackle, and pop of the logs as I busied myself unpacking, and setting the table for our special dinner. I was excited, and couldn"t wait for Hutch to show up. He"d be here in a couple of hours — not a long time in the grand scheme of things, but the wait was proving difficult.
As I boiled a large pot of water and marinated the steaks in a gourmet kitchen, I thought about love. How it comes in all sizes and designs. I"ve always loved Hutch. As a person, as a partner, and as a best friend. I grew to love him more and more, day after day, year after year. The day I left Huggy"s bar after the whole Kira thing was when we both finally realized how deep that love really went — and how great a kisser I really was.
Yet, another story.
After that, I saw the big picture and the bottom line was — Hutch not only brightened my world — he heated it up too.
Just as I was about to open the oven door and remove my freshly baked bread, I heard a tapping sound. Whirling around, I half-expecting to see a knobby kneed droopy faced moose and a flying squirrel. I stared in confusion, not sure what I was seeing at first. Realization came quickly however, and I smiled. A pair of pale blue eyes stared longingly at me. Eyes so bright they could be seen from space. Eyes that could stop time one minute, explode you into flames another, or hold you up when all you wanted to do was fall. Unable to take my gaze away, Hutch continued to peer at me through the glass. No explosions tonight — not the angry type anyway — his eyes were lively and joyful . For a moment we communicated with telepathy.
"Sorry, Starsk — I"m early."
"I"m glad."
Hutch held up what he likes to call bottled poetry.
"I brought the wine."
I held up my part of what I like to call poetry — the corkscrew.
"I got the opener."
I smirked and motioned for him to go around to the front.
I opened the door — Hutch just stood there, looking me up and down.
"Nice apron."
"Pierre Cardin," I chuckled, as I grabbed his duffle bag and dropped it to the floor.
I thrust myself into his arms, and before I knew it we were falling all over each other — all over the house. We kissed deeply, and I found my back shoved up against a timber beam, Hutch half on top of me. I groaned as he gently held my face with his hands and kissed me deeper.
"I"ve missed you," Hutch whispered the sweet words right into my mouth.
My head spun, and I felt dizzy. All I could do was melt into his embrace; if I was a dog my tail would have been wagging in happiness.
"You"re such a pussycat," Hutch chuckled, and stroked my hair.
"Don"t let me fool you," I growled against his tender lips. "I can be a junkyard dog."
"No kidding?" Hutch pressed harder against me, his lips barely touching mine. "The real yappy type, huh?" he smirked.
"The real snappy type." I playfully bit his lip.
"Hey." Hutch drew back. "Looks like I"m going to have to give you a few lessons in how to treat your master?"
"More than a few."
I gripped Hutch"s arm and swung him around exchanging places, and burrowed against him as we kissed again.
Hutch ran his fingers up and down my back in soothing caresses. Damn, it felt good. In a silent oath we reminded one another how much we were in love. Not that we needed reminding.
Hutch brushed his lips against my ear. "Starsk," he breathlessly whispered, as he teased me with the tip of his tongue.
"Wha"?" My breath hitched.
"This," Hutch said cupping my chin, his lips claiming mine again.
"Oh," I sighed, trapped within my partner"s passionate storm.
My fingers slid to the back of his neck and up into his hair, as I tugged him to me. Hutch took a step closer and I relaxed against the timber, the sensations igniting something deep inside of me. Hutch"s hard body against mine, the feel of his mouth, the way his tongue swept over mine, the scent of his cologne, the blazing heat between us — nothing in my life had ever felt so — so right.
Hutch holds my heart in his hands. That"s what keeps it beating. My knees crumpled and Hutch held me up as we drew out of the kiss — both of us barely able to breathe.
"How"s that feel?" Hutch asked now bent over and nibbling the side of my neck.
"It"s — it"s —" My breath caught and I tipped my head back. "Oh, God, Hutch."
Someone make a move. Bed or food.
"I"m starved," Hutch said as he read my mind and glanced over at the candle lit table.
Decision made.
Dinner first — just deserts later.
"Wait"ll you see what I got us for dinner." Still a little shaky, I took him by the arm and steered Hutch over toward the kitchen. "Oven baked bread, steamed garden fresh vegetables, Cesar salad, and a couple of thick t-bones. Even went as far as to get you that creamy goat cheese you can put on crackers and —" I didn’t take my eyes off Hutch, as I opened the lid to the crate I had sitting on the counter, — this was going to be so killer. "Ta-da!"
Hutch frowned. "Ta-da, what?"
"Huh?" That wasn"t the reaction I was hoping for. "It"s your favorite." I looked down into the crate that held two of the biggest — "They broke out!" I yelled as I frantically looked around.
"Who"s they?"
"Mercedes and Benz."
"Luxury cars?" Hutch raised a brow.
"Lobsters, Hutch."
"Starsky, you named the crayfish whose only purpose in life was to be boiled alive?" Hutch chuckled.
"Not crayfish — lobsters, and yes, was the least I could do!" I barked, as I dropped down on all fours searching for claw prints; any clue as to where they might have scurried to.
"Starsk, how do you know they escaped? Maybe something took them. A bear even."
"No sign of a struggle," I stated as I peered around the garbage can.
"Oh, I see. Their secret lobster plan to break out of prison was a success," Hutch laughed louder.
"It"s not funny, Hutch. I hand picked them. They were huge — twenty bucks a piece."
"Want me to alert the local police, buddy?" More laughing.
"If it would help find them — yes!" I shouted over his laughter.
"Yes officer, my name is Detective Hutchinson. My partner and I seem to have a couple of rouge crustaceans on our hands. They frequently hang out in large crowds behind algae encrusted glass walls," Hutch said seriously. "A-a-approach with a nutcracker and melted butter. But be cautious. They are armed with-with a pair of pincers and should be considered dan-dangerous," Hutch broke out in laughter once more.
It wasn"t helping matters that my partner thought this was one big joke. I glared up at Hutch from my position on the floor. He was laughing so hard his face was red and streaked with tears, as he held his side
.
"Their claws were rendered useless, dummy!" I barked. "Banded with rubber bands. They can"t hurt anyone."
"Stars — St — St —" Hutch howled, doubled over in laughter.
I wasn"t laughing. This wasn"t funny. I continued my hunt on hands and knees for the green shelled beady eyed punks.
"Stop laughing and help me look! They"re ruining my meal."
"Starsk," Hutch panted as he tried to quell his laughter. "Let them run for their lives buddy, their fate rests in their own hands now," Hutch snickered.
"Claws!" I set him straight, as I banged a tightly balled fist against the hardwood floor. "Damn it, Hutch!"
"It"s okay, buddy." Hutch reached down a hand. Reluctantly I took it. "You can"t always expect to get your man," he said as he pulled me to my feet.
"Lobster, Hutch. Lobster, and that"s what the bad guys say about us behind our backs," I grumbled.
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Hutch was a real gentleman, as we ate our lobster-less dinner he refrained from poking anymore fun at me. I think he understood how upset I was and that he was treading on dangerous territory if he kept pushing.
An hour later we were cozying up on the couch in front of the fireplace. I sat quietly next to Hutch, only wanting some kind of justice. The highlights of my dinner had seen their executioner and somehow escaped. It was infuriating and disappointing. Maybe I should have named them Volks and Wagen. They might not have gotten so far, so fast.
My dinner was a disaster; might as well have just served Hutch Animal Crackers or better yet he could have foraged for his own food outside. He would have been better off and —
"Hey." Hutch"s soft voice pulled me from the image of him creeping through the brush and digging inside a rotting log. "You okay?"
"Sure," I said, not taking my eyes off the burning logs. "I always look this way when my bound and unable to escape jailbirds, flee my custody."
"Aw, Starsk, come on, " Hutch snorted and elbowed me in the side.
I turned to face Hutch — his eyes shown bright, deep as any ocean, and for a long time - we didn"t need words, both our hearts in the right place.
"Buddy, this outta cheer you up." Hutch broke the silence. "I got you something." He bent forward and pulled a neatly wrapped box out from under the couch.
"Hey!" My mood brightened. I loved presents.
I ripped into the box and tossed the paper aside and opened the lid. My jaw dropped, as I ran my fingers over my top-of-the-line gift.
"I know it"s not the same, Starsk — but—"
"Hutch," I gasped
It was glove-soft. The perfect shade of oil-tanned brown already sporting a slightly weathered look, and it smelled of genuine cowhide. Wrapped around the collar of the bomber jacket was a fuzzy brown scarf to match.
"I know the jacket doesn"t make the man," Hutch said.
"This one just might," I said with appreciation. "Nice touch." I picked up an end of the scarf and waggled it at Hutch.
"It"s imported, from Bolivia — made out of alpaca wool," Hutch stated proudly.
"Al-what-a?"
"It"ll keep you warm, buddy," Hutch chuckled.
"You keep me warm, Hutch."
Suddenly, I felt like a fool. In my rush to set up this trip, I hadn"t bought Hutch an anniversary gift.
"I didn’t buy you anything," I said sadly.
"Starsk, you gave me this trip. Dinner, and the cabin — it"s—it"s all beautiful."
"Hutch, know what I"d give you instead, if I could?"
"What"s that, buddy?"
"I"d give you forever."
"Ah, partner. You have Starsk, you already have." Hutch"s blue eyes twinkled.
I felt my heart start to pound at a rocket"s pace. I couldn"t catch my breath, and my body harden just in the simple way he looked at me.
Hutch pressed against me, and I collapsed against the pillows with him half on top of me.
"Easy, buddy," he crooned.
I blinked up at him, as I reached to wrap my arms around him and draw him closer. I wanted to say so much, but all I could do was whisper his name.
"Hutch."
"Hell of a good guy — this Hutch?" my partner smirked, as his hands manacled my wrists and held me in place, never taking his eyes off me.
"Yeah," I panted. "I like him a lot."
"You"re in love with him?" The smile Hutch bestowed outshined the fires glow.
"Guilty as charged."
Hutch trailed kisses all along my neck, the heat of his breath alone giving me an erection.
He let go of one of my wrists, lightly, slowly, moving his hand where my shirt was opened and tracing his finger around a nipple.
"Hutch." Did he know what he did to me with just a look; the slightest of touches. "Man, I"m shaking all over."
"Funny how that works," Hutch said, tipping my chin upward and gazing deeper into my eyes.
"You have no idea what you do to me."
"Want to bet," Hutch snorted, gathered me close and whispered in my ear, "Thanks again for dinner, buddy. I didn"t know you knew how to bake bread."
"I know how to do it all," I purred.
Hutch bent down and kissed me deeply, intensely — the man knows how to be passionate.
"I take that back," I said pulling away cupping his cheek to bring his gaze to mine. "You"re the one who knows how to do it all." Hutch cocked a brow in surprise to my admission.
"Not bad to be on the receiving end of your "all" either, partner." Hutch"s smile reached his eyes as he touched my cheek.
"Was hoping you"d say that." I lovingly pinched his behind. "Hey, Hutch." I sank further into the pillows savoring his warmth and strength. "In the morning you can go for a jog around the lake while I make breakfast," I said as I pulled him back into a kiss.
"Starsk," Hutch whispered as he drew away from me abruptly, and sat up. "Ten o"clock."
"Ten?" I shivered as his body heat left me. "Hutch, are you crazy? That"s too early. We can sleep in and then —"
"No! Not that ten o"clock." Hutch hitched his thumb. "That — ten o"clock."
I looked in the direction Hutch was talking about and watched two green streaks scuttle across the floor.
"Hey! Come back!" I yelled and shot off the couch, dragging my partner crashing to the floor with me.
Hutch and I got tangled among the jacket, pillows, and all the wrappings in my desperate attempt to catch the escapees.
"Hutch, stay here with the jacket. Mercedes and Benz are mine."
"Starsky, wait one gosh darn second we need a plan." Hutch batted at my hands, as I struggled to wrench free of our tangled limbs.
"Fine," I said, getting to my feet, and moving ahead of Hutch. "You go left. I"ll go right we"ll corner them between the wall and the icemaker."
"Good thinking, Starsk."
"And, Hutch," I said, glancing over my shoulder.
"Yeah?"
"We take them alive."
"For questioning?" Hutch laughed.
"For eating, dummy!" I said with certainty.
The End