Fanfiction: Heart's Key
Questa è la fanfiction ispirata dal prompt di Kimberlyfdr (Starsky/Hutch ; anniversario). Potete trovare tutti i prompt qui. Grazie infinite a Hardboiledbaby per il meraviglioso (e assai necessario) betaggio.
This is my prompt fic inspired by Kimberlyfdr's prompt (Starsky/Hutch ; anniversary). You can find all the prompts here.
Many many thanks to Hardboiledbaby for her wonderful (and so much needed) editing.
"Starsky."
…
"Staaarsk?"
Starsky's head snapped up and he looked around the Italian restaurant - a brand-new Italian restaurant, not the one where he was shot years ago - focusing at last on Hutch's worried face. Hutch had reserved a private booth, so they could talk without being overheard.
"What?"
"You're thousand miles away."
"No, I'm not."
"Yes, you are."
Starsky snorted. "And what if I were? Is it a problem for you, Mister Big Brain?"
Hutch laughed softly. "Of course not. I was just wondering what is bothering my partner so much that he has not touched his spaghetti yet. That's all."
Starsky's eyes dropped into his still full plate, plain evidence that something was wrong.
Hutch seemed hesitant. "Is it the place? Does it remind you too much of...?" he asked.
Starsky felt a little smile tug at his lips and shook his head no.
It was so typical of Hutch to want everything to be perfect. Today was special, after all. It was their first 'anniversary', a year to the day they realized they wanted to be so much more than friends. It was the first time they kissed. The first time that Hutch's hands had touched him with desire and reverence and Love.
"Starsk, are you here with me?"
Starsky's eyes were drawn again to Hutch's beautiful face. His baby blue eyes, now a bit crinkled at the corners, had always taken Starsky's breath away and the candlelight gave Hutch's complexion a lovely golden shade. How could that be any more perfect?
"Yes. Yes, I am."
"Are you sure? You've been acting weird all week long. I thought it was the Bradbury case, but we solved it yesterday and still you..."
Starsky looked away. He twirled his fork in his spaghetti and finally took a bite. The pasta was cooked just fine, al dente, and the carbonara sauce would have brought a dead man back to life. He chewed slowly, thinking about how to say what had bounced around his mind in the last few days.
"You - you do know what day is it, isn't it?" he finally managed.
Hutch blinked and brought the glass of red wine to his lips, brushed them with his napkin and sat back in his chair. Then he allowed a smug smile to surface.
"Well, it happens I'm fully aware of it. That's why we are here. To celebrate." Suddenly the smile faded away. "Are you... happy to be here? To celebrate?" He leaned forward and reached for Starsky's hand, searching for physical contact. His fingers touched lightly Starsky's left hand, making him close his eyes and a shiver run down his spine. Hutch often kissed the back of his hand saying that he loved Starsky's hand and everything that came from it: hurt, pleasure, death, love. This time, after a brief squeeze, the fingers disappeared as quickly as they had come.
Starsky swallowed, feeling his stomach churning unpleasantly. With an effort, he forced himself to speak.
"Hutch, lately I've been thinking a lot about us..." He dared a glance at his partner, but immediately looked away because Hutch was staring him with confusion and a bit of fear.
"Be careful not to hurt yourself, then!" Hutch said nonetheless, even if without much heat.
"Yeah, yeah, I will," Starsky smiled. How could Hutch always make him smile?
"So, what exactly have you been thinking about?"
Starsky took a big breath. "You know, we've been together for a whole year now, but all the while we keep flirting with girls, having dates and living in separate apartments... It's just that I'm not sure anymore if this... is what I want."
The moment he said it, he knew that it had been a unhappy choice of words. Hutch's body completely froze and his face blanked, his lips tightening in a thin line.
Starsky felt his hearth skip a beat, then begin to pound madly, and he had to wipe off his suddenly sweaty hands on his jeans. What if Hutch said that he wanted their relationship to stay the way it was? What if he said he was still interested in girls? What if he didn't want to move away from Venice Place? What if he said no?
His mouth dry as a desert, he braced himself and took Hutch's hand between his owns, rubbing his fingertips along the scars and callouses on the otherwise smooth skin, marks left by a lifetime of copwork. He stared at their joined hands as if he could find there the strength he needed.
"What I mean to tell you, Hutch, is that I want so much more for us. You mean the world to me and I wanna demonstrate it to you every moment of every day of my life. I want to wake up and see you first thing in the morning. I want to fight with you about food and books and other little stupid things, tease you, work together and go to sleep together in our bed in our home at night. I know I'm asking a lot from you, I know it is dangerous in our line of work and that people will talk, I know it but still I -"
"I love you, too, Starsk," Hutch interrupted him. At that, Starsky looked up in Hutch's face. His partner was smiling warmly, his eyes full of such a joy as Starsky didn't remember ever having seen there. He used his free hand to take something from a task in his jacket and placed a little, flat box on the table, near Starsky's glass. "It's funny, you know. I just didn't know how to tell you about this. I thought you might get pissed."
Stunned, Starsky reached for the box: on the lid in Hutch's handwriting it said 'To Starsky, with all my love.'
"Come on, open it," Hutch said impatiently.
Holding his breath, Starsky did. He drew out the item, which shone in the candlelight.
"It's a key," Starsky whispered in surprise.
Hutch chuckled. "Very good, Sherlock! What else?"
"Hutch, pleeease." Starsky was still flustered and didn't feel like playing games.
Hutch must've understood it because he sobered up, took the key from Starsky's hand and explained in a soft voice. "Do you remember when you bought that hovel with our money? We broke the contract right away and never talked about it again. But some months ago I happened to drive in that neighborhood and I found that the house was still on the market. Something about it struck me and it kept coming to mind for weeks, so at last I decided to buy it. This is the key. I hired a restructuring contractor and they finished the renovation just yesterday. The house is ready, the only thing missing is a occupant. I thought that we could move in together if you want... And if not, well -"
"Yes!"
"Yes, what?"
"Yes to everything, Hutch!"
"So, if I say - "
"Yes."
"But you don't know what I'm going to ask."
"The answer is yes."
"So, would you come to live with me in our hovel?"
"Yes."
"And..." Hutch hesitated. "Would you want to be mine forever?
Their eyes locked, and time seemed to stop while all the love they felt surrounded them, separating them from the rest of the world. Then Starsky slid out of the booth, put some bills on the table and dragged an astonished Hutch out of the restaurant.
"Where are we going?" Hutch managed to ask when they were in the Torino.
"Our hovel," Starsky said with a big grin while the Torino's engine roared. "We have a new home to inaugurate and a honeymoon to get started."
fine
This is my prompt fic inspired by Kimberlyfdr's prompt (Starsky/Hutch ; anniversary). You can find all the prompts here.
Many many thanks to Hardboiledbaby for her wonderful (and so much needed) editing.
"Starsky."
…
"Staaarsk?"
Starsky's head snapped up and he looked around the Italian restaurant - a brand-new Italian restaurant, not the one where he was shot years ago - focusing at last on Hutch's worried face. Hutch had reserved a private booth, so they could talk without being overheard.
"What?"
"You're thousand miles away."
"No, I'm not."
"Yes, you are."
Starsky snorted. "And what if I were? Is it a problem for you, Mister Big Brain?"
Hutch laughed softly. "Of course not. I was just wondering what is bothering my partner so much that he has not touched his spaghetti yet. That's all."
Starsky's eyes dropped into his still full plate, plain evidence that something was wrong.
Hutch seemed hesitant. "Is it the place? Does it remind you too much of...?" he asked.
Starsky felt a little smile tug at his lips and shook his head no.
It was so typical of Hutch to want everything to be perfect. Today was special, after all. It was their first 'anniversary', a year to the day they realized they wanted to be so much more than friends. It was the first time they kissed. The first time that Hutch's hands had touched him with desire and reverence and Love.
"Starsk, are you here with me?"
Starsky's eyes were drawn again to Hutch's beautiful face. His baby blue eyes, now a bit crinkled at the corners, had always taken Starsky's breath away and the candlelight gave Hutch's complexion a lovely golden shade. How could that be any more perfect?
"Yes. Yes, I am."
"Are you sure? You've been acting weird all week long. I thought it was the Bradbury case, but we solved it yesterday and still you..."
Starsky looked away. He twirled his fork in his spaghetti and finally took a bite. The pasta was cooked just fine, al dente, and the carbonara sauce would have brought a dead man back to life. He chewed slowly, thinking about how to say what had bounced around his mind in the last few days.
"You - you do know what day is it, isn't it?" he finally managed.
Hutch blinked and brought the glass of red wine to his lips, brushed them with his napkin and sat back in his chair. Then he allowed a smug smile to surface.
"Well, it happens I'm fully aware of it. That's why we are here. To celebrate." Suddenly the smile faded away. "Are you... happy to be here? To celebrate?" He leaned forward and reached for Starsky's hand, searching for physical contact. His fingers touched lightly Starsky's left hand, making him close his eyes and a shiver run down his spine. Hutch often kissed the back of his hand saying that he loved Starsky's hand and everything that came from it: hurt, pleasure, death, love. This time, after a brief squeeze, the fingers disappeared as quickly as they had come.
Starsky swallowed, feeling his stomach churning unpleasantly. With an effort, he forced himself to speak.
"Hutch, lately I've been thinking a lot about us..." He dared a glance at his partner, but immediately looked away because Hutch was staring him with confusion and a bit of fear.
"Be careful not to hurt yourself, then!" Hutch said nonetheless, even if without much heat.
"Yeah, yeah, I will," Starsky smiled. How could Hutch always make him smile?
"So, what exactly have you been thinking about?"
Starsky took a big breath. "You know, we've been together for a whole year now, but all the while we keep flirting with girls, having dates and living in separate apartments... It's just that I'm not sure anymore if this... is what I want."
The moment he said it, he knew that it had been a unhappy choice of words. Hutch's body completely froze and his face blanked, his lips tightening in a thin line.
Starsky felt his hearth skip a beat, then begin to pound madly, and he had to wipe off his suddenly sweaty hands on his jeans. What if Hutch said that he wanted their relationship to stay the way it was? What if he said he was still interested in girls? What if he didn't want to move away from Venice Place? What if he said no?
His mouth dry as a desert, he braced himself and took Hutch's hand between his owns, rubbing his fingertips along the scars and callouses on the otherwise smooth skin, marks left by a lifetime of copwork. He stared at their joined hands as if he could find there the strength he needed.
"What I mean to tell you, Hutch, is that I want so much more for us. You mean the world to me and I wanna demonstrate it to you every moment of every day of my life. I want to wake up and see you first thing in the morning. I want to fight with you about food and books and other little stupid things, tease you, work together and go to sleep together in our bed in our home at night. I know I'm asking a lot from you, I know it is dangerous in our line of work and that people will talk, I know it but still I -"
"I love you, too, Starsk," Hutch interrupted him. At that, Starsky looked up in Hutch's face. His partner was smiling warmly, his eyes full of such a joy as Starsky didn't remember ever having seen there. He used his free hand to take something from a task in his jacket and placed a little, flat box on the table, near Starsky's glass. "It's funny, you know. I just didn't know how to tell you about this. I thought you might get pissed."
Stunned, Starsky reached for the box: on the lid in Hutch's handwriting it said 'To Starsky, with all my love.'
"Come on, open it," Hutch said impatiently.
Holding his breath, Starsky did. He drew out the item, which shone in the candlelight.
"It's a key," Starsky whispered in surprise.
Hutch chuckled. "Very good, Sherlock! What else?"
"Hutch, pleeease." Starsky was still flustered and didn't feel like playing games.
Hutch must've understood it because he sobered up, took the key from Starsky's hand and explained in a soft voice. "Do you remember when you bought that hovel with our money? We broke the contract right away and never talked about it again. But some months ago I happened to drive in that neighborhood and I found that the house was still on the market. Something about it struck me and it kept coming to mind for weeks, so at last I decided to buy it. This is the key. I hired a restructuring contractor and they finished the renovation just yesterday. The house is ready, the only thing missing is a occupant. I thought that we could move in together if you want... And if not, well -"
"Yes!"
"Yes, what?"
"Yes to everything, Hutch!"
"So, if I say - "
"Yes."
"But you don't know what I'm going to ask."
"The answer is yes."
"So, would you come to live with me in our hovel?"
"Yes."
"And..." Hutch hesitated. "Would you want to be mine forever?
Their eyes locked, and time seemed to stop while all the love they felt surrounded them, separating them from the rest of the world. Then Starsky slid out of the booth, put some bills on the table and dragged an astonished Hutch out of the restaurant.
"Where are we going?" Hutch managed to ask when they were in the Torino.
"Our hovel," Starsky said with a big grin while the Torino's engine roared. "We have a new home to inaugurate and a honeymoon to get started."
fine