Sergeant Light Guy

By Leeesa

Secret Santa for Chris M. A Big Thankyou to CC for "Doing me a Solid" by reading over this little ditty and fixing what she could.

Rating: Slash

Summary: Hutch takes a hard line against Starsky’s holiday decorating plans, leading to unforgettable results. Based on a true story.

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Bay City, California - Christmas Eve.

Ken “Hutch” Hutchinson had been sitting in traffic for 45 minutes, trying to contain his festering rage.

“I cannot believe this much traffic on my own street just because of a few Christmas lights,” he muttered to himself. “I’m gonna kill him.”

The “him” in mortal danger was his partner, Dave Starsky. He and Starsky had been partners on the police force for fifteen years and partners in life for the last five of those years. A streak that could end tonight if Hutch didn’t calm down and get a grip on his anger.

Sitting there in the old (he preferred the term “Vintage”) LTD, Hutch started thinking about how this current Starsky bru-ha-ha had began…..three weeks ago.

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December 3rd had started like any other day off for Detective Hutchinson, 8 am found him soundly sleeping. Suddenly his slumber was disturbed by the sound of banging.

“Starsk, what’s that noise,” he mumbled from beneath the blankets.

He got no answer.

“Starsky,” he said again, louder this time, daring to peak over the edge of the blankets.

The other side of the bed was empty, and the banging sound continued.

Hutch crawled out of bed and, following the noise, soon found its source…. Starsky.

Starsky was standing on a step-stool, busily driving a nail into the top edge of the front door.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m hangin’ a Christmas wreath,” Starsky replied as he climbed down from the stool and greeted his lover with a kiss.

“Merry Christmas, Blondie,” he said with a sexy growl, just before nibbling on his partner’s ear.

Hutch was not going to be swayed from his original question, so he took a step back and continued, “Why are you hanging a wreath at 8 am?”

“I’m just getting a head start on decorating.”

Hutch moaned, rubbing his hands across his face in exasperation, realizing that the annual Starsky Christmas madness had started.

“Starsky, ever since we moved in together, you have driven me nuts with holiday crap. I swear, this year you are not turning this house into some kind of… of… a… ‘Starsky Wonderland’,” the blond man stuttered. “Over my dead body will you hang tacky Christmas junk all over this house!!!”

Starsky took a step back, glared at his partner and said, “Oh come on, Hutch, the people across the street are stringing lights all over their house, we gotta keep up.”

“NO, we don’t have to keep up. I mean it…, Starsk, no lights on the house.”

“Now wait just a minute Blintz, this is my house as much as it is yours, and you are not my mother last time I checked.”

“Starsky for the past four years you have hung lights and garland and God only knows what else from every available surface, I just can’t live like that this year, PLEASE, Starsk!!!”

“Ok, Baby Blue, just calm down. I promise, no lights on the house,” Starsky swore, raising his right hand to emphasize his sincerity.

“I am not falling for that one, Starsk, remember who you are talking to. Not only will there be no lights on the house; there will be none on the porch, the trees, the bushes, or the grass…. Got it?”

“Yeah, I got it, you are such a Scrooge, ya know that?” Starsky sullenly replied, “What the hell’s the matter with you? You gotta reindeer up your ass or somethin’?”

“Or something,” the smirking blond replied, as he headed back into the house.

Starsky’s only response to that was the one finger salute and a chorus of “Fa-la-la-la-la La-la-la-la.”

Things at the Starsky/Hutchinson house were chilly for a few days. The only holiday decoration was the plain evergreen wreath on the front door. The guys went to work together each day. They came home together each evening. They had each meal together and slept together each night (no sex mind you, just sleep), but little was said, neither man willing to give in to the others holiday wishes.

The impasse lasted four days, until Sunday when Hutch once again woke to a day off, alone in bed.

He found a note on the kitchen table, if you could call that a note. It said, “Gone to store, back later” and was signed simply “S”.

As Hutch sat waiting for his lover’s return, he started thinking maybe he had been too hard on Starsky. Starsky loved all holidays and Hutch loved Starsky, so maybe he should think about bending on the hard line he had drawn. Yep, a few tasteful decorations, maybe something environmentally friendly, wouldn’t hurt anything. He couldn’t wait for Starsk to get home so he could give him the BIG news.

Soon he heard the familiar roar of the Torino so he thought he would go out, help Starsk unload whatever he had purchased, and then tell him he had reconsidered a few tasteful decorations. That idea was short lived. As he opened the front door, Starsky was already unloading the Torino, leaving one load of bags on the front porch, and was on his way across the lawn for the second load. Hutch started to pick up a few of the bags to take inside when he noticed what was inside: CHRISTMAS LIGHTS. Boxes and Boxes of Christmas lights.

“I don’t believe it,” Hutch fumed to himself. “After promising, he goes ahead and buys lights anyway.”

Dropping the shopping bags, Hutch marches back into the house and goes into the study, closing and locking the door behind him.

Starsky took little notice of his partner’s absence as he was on a mission. His shopping had been very successful and he unloaded his purchases in the spare bedroom. He unpacked all the lights, an industrial size staple gun, several boxes of staples, several indoor/outdoor extension cords and a pair of camouflage coveralls….complete with a hood. He launched into his project with gusto, soon losing all track of time.

Hutch came out of his refuge after about an hour, curiosity getting the best of him. He expected to find Starsky hanging lights all over the house, but his partner was sequestered in the spare room, making lots of interesting noise.

Hutch stood outside the bedroom door for a while listening to the activity inside. He could hear plastic rattling, paper tearing and a click-click sound that he couldn’t identify, all interspersed with a few curses. He soon grew tired of eavesdropping on his partner, so he left his post to do some yard work out back.

When it got too dark to do anything else outside, Hutch entered the house through the back door. He immediately noticed something very, very bright shining from the living room. He took a deep, cleansing breath and waltzed into the living room, faking non-chalance. He was soon stopped in his tracks at the site that awaited him

It was Starsky. He was standing there wearing some kind of one piece hunting suit, complete with a hood, that was covered in hundreds of Christmas lights….Christmas lights that were burning brightly, lit by three or four heavy duty extension cords that had been connected together ending in an outlet just underneath the front window.

Hutch was momentarily stunned into silence, his mouth falling open, before he attempted to speak, “Wha…Whaa…..What the hell are you doing?”

“What does it look like I’m doing, I’m decking the halls,” said the Abominable Light Man as he headed towards the front door, “You never said anything about hanging lights on my body, didja now?”

“Bu…bu…but where are you going?”

“I’m going out in the front yard to greet passersby with my holiday spirit, glad tidings and good cheer,” Starsky said with a goofy grin. And out the door he went. The complete breakdown of civilization followed.

The news that Dave Starsky was standing out in front of his house every night covered in Christmas lights spread like wildfire. First everyone at the station started driving by and telling all their friends, so they could also drive by. It was like that shampoo commercial, they told two friends and then those two told two friends….How much worse could it get?

Hutch learned a lesson about asking rhetorical questions a few days later, when a reporter from the local paper stopped by to interview Starsky, Dubbing him “Sergeant Light Guy” in the press. Next a channel 4 news correspondent held a live broadcast from “Sgt Light Guy’s” front yard. It was like the Gods had gone thoroughly mad.

Within two weeks, people were coming from miles around to see “Sgt Light Guy” creating traffic that was backed up for miles around the little neighborhood.

Starsky was having the time of his life, reveling in the attention. Hutch found it all hard to believe. It was like some huge cosmic joke on Scrooge Hutch, his partner was this years holiday “It” guy and their house was plastered all over the news. Hutch tried to remain neutral about the whole thing, seeming to ignore Starsky’s boasting and preening. However, tonight, Christmas Eve, was the last straw!! Hutch had worked a little later than his partner and now was sitting in crawling “Sgt Light Guy” traffic trying to get home. Hutch was furious.

When he finally reached his drive way, he parked the car and slammed the door behind him. As he charged across the yard to give “Light Guy” a royal chewing out, he was stopped cold by the sight in front of him. Starsky was surrounded by people, some elderly, some teens, and some giggling children. In the middle of it all was his partner, the “Light Guy” himself, he entertained the grown ups and handed out candy canes to the teens and star struck kids. Suddenly Hutch realized how wrong he had been. This weeks long holiday battle had effected every part of their lives, including their non-existent sex life. More important than that, it had effected their relationship outside the bedroom. Hutch was so intent on his view of Christmas, that he lost sight of his partner. His Starsky was a kind, generous, loving, fun-loving man. Hutch realized that he had forced his ideals on Starsky and that was so, so wrong. All at once the anger about the traffic, the holiday, and even the lights just vanished. All he wanted to do was go to his lover, wrap his arms around him and apologize for being such a dick head.

Starsky didn’t see Hutch through the throng of people surrounding him. As the crowd thinned to none, he unplugged his light suit and turned to go in for the evening and saw his partner sitting on the front porch watching him.

After weeks of tension, he didn’t know what to expect as he approached Hutch. The last thing he expected was for Hutch to meet him halfway with a hug and passionate kiss, breaking the “no outdoor hanky-panky” rule due to the cover of darkness.

“I love you, Babe, and I am so sorry for how I have been acting. I was wrong, I know that now, I‘ll never dictate to you again,” the former scrooge whispered.

“I love you too, Blintz, I knew you would come around eventually.”

“You did huh?”

“Yep, it’s a Christmas miracle,” Starsky said around a chuckle. “God Bless us everyone,” he said in his best Tiny Tim.

Hutch doubled over in laughter and relief.

“Merry Christmas, Light Guy.”

“Merry Christmas, Darlin’.”

Hand in hand they walked into their home, when Hutch suddenly stopped and said, “Hey, Sgt Light Guy.”

Starsky turned to face him, with a twinkle in his eye.

Hutch gave his lover a huge smile and said, “Wanna light my fire?”

The End.