The first time Starsky and Hutch got married, Starsky wore the pants.

"No one's gonna believe I'm a girl, at least from behind," he argued.

"So you are saying I look like a girl."

"No. I'm sayin' I don't, not that you do."

"Captain? We're not doing this. You've got a dozen other detectives who do undercover work. Why us?"

****

The second time Starsky and Hutch got married, it was in their dreams.

"I had the weirdest dream last night, Hutch."

"You've been reading that dream interpretation book again, haven't you."

"No, really, I did. I dreamed we got married."

Hutch snorted tea from his nose, splashing their desk. "Probably because we spend too much time together," he said, ineffectively wiping at the tea stains with a tissue.

"Prob'ly right."

Later that night, Hutch awoke sweating, twisted in his sheets, a raging woody threatening to burst from his sweat pants. He had dreamt of... dreamt of them, uh... oh forget it. Damn that Starsky and his dreams!

****

The third time Starsky and Hutch got married, it was again in their dreams.

"So, like, what do we do now? I mean now that we're, um, you know?"

"It's not like we can get married or anything,"

"I've been married. It's not what it's cracked up to be."

"Van doesn't count as married. It counts as prison time. Could you imagine though, us getting married?"

Silence took over as both men considered this new aspect of their relationship. Fatigued by the possibilities, they dropped off to sleep.

****

The fourth time Starsky and Hutch got married, it wasn't legal.

"I'm only doing this for you," Starsky said for the umpteenth time as they stood in rented matching tuxedos and greeted guests in the church community room. "This feels so, so gay. Like La Cage gay. Like... "

"... Starsk," Hutch interrupted. "We are gay. And old. Two gay old men. Getting married, kind of."

The hand that had gripped Hutch's in a death-clinch an hour before tensed slightly. "That's the thing. It's not married. It ain't legal. So what's the point?"

"That's the entire point. How many rules did we break as cops?"

"More than I can count."

"And how many of our transgressions do they now teach as standard operating procedures at the academy."

Starsky's hand relaxed a bit. "Point taken. But this is still so, so gay."

"And so is this," Hutch smiled and used his free hand to guide Starsky's head nearer to his, briefly brushing lips to ear lobe, a hint of what was to come later, much later, on a honeymoon so fun, it should have been declared illegal as well.

****

The fifth, and final time, Starsky and Hutch got married, it was legal.

"This is ridiculous. Why are we doing this again?" Hutch asked. "You didn't want to do it the first time, and now we're sleeping out on the stairs of the courthouse."

"This is different," Starsky argued. "This is real."

"You know they're probably going to get this overturned in a few months, and then what? Get married again every time it's 'real' to you?"

Later, back at home, they framed the marriage certificate and put it on their mantel. "They can't take that away from us," Starsky said, stepping back to admire the proclamation.

"They never could, Starsk," Hutch said, putting an arm around Starsky and leaning his head into his partner's shoulder. "They never could."

The End