WARNING: The Starsky and Hutch fan fiction of Alexis Rogers is homoerotic in nature and theme, and often contains explicit descriptions of sexual acts between two or more men. If this adult content offends you, please go play some place else. If you are under the age of consent where you live, please go away. If you don't like the laws where you live, change them. Remember, one can make a difference. RATING: This story carries the rating of "G." . This is a missing scene from the episode "Iron Mike".
DISCLAIMERS: This story exists solely for the enjoyment of those of us who care, and is not intended to infringe on any copyright or other legality of "Starsky and Hutch", Aaron Spelling, Leonard Goldberg, David Soul, Paul Michael Glaser, William Blinn, Michael Fisher or anydamnbody else that I might have overlooked. No money has been made from the story nor is there likely to be.
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"Starsky's Law: Talk a little, win a lot."
"Why you..." Hutch sputtered, then was silent.
Hutch did not answer for a moment, then shrugged. "Sure, why not?" He went to the kitchen, returned with fresh beer as Starsky rearranged the chess pieces.
After the first rounds of the game, Hutch's concentration deteriorated.
"I wouldn't do that if I were you." Starsky jeered, sipping cold beer from the frosty bottle.
"And why not?" The white knight fondled the black knight.
"Because if you move that joey, I'm gonna capture it and you'll have to pay the penalty." Starsky lowered his lashes, then looked through them at his partner, watching a slow blush that started at Hutch's neck and rose to his hairline.
Replacing the piece, Hutch stared at the board with unfocused eyes and Starsky could feel the unwanted presence of Matt Coyle and hear his words repeating themselves inside the blond head: I'm not runnin', gentlemen. You got me. I'll do my time. But it won't be much. And then when I get out, you'll be older and more weary. Like Iron Mike was. And then, well then me buckoos, you'll be calling me.
When Hutch finally looked up, Starsky caught and held the blue eyes, then glanced deliberately at the bedroom.
"Are you trying to seduce me?" The words were partially innocent and partially provocative, the combination that was Hutch.
"Do I have to?"
"Why not? You know you love it." Again the blush.
"It makes you feel loved. And wanted." Starsky studied the beautiful face, the ice blue eyes, the thin line between the blond brows.
"But?" Hutch stroked the black queen with his fingertip.
"I was just wonderin' if the Ferguson/Coyle thing's still bothering you."
"Why should it?"
"Your game's off. That usually means you're thinking about something else."
"No. That I can handle, know just what to do. Wanna talk about it?"
"Nothing to talk about."
Hutch picked up the bishop and Starsky leered at him.
"See what I mean? Your game's way off, buddy."
"Maybe I just want you in bed."
"There are more direct methods."
"But this game can be so interesting. Only you would dream up strip chess."
"So I like to look at your gorgeous body. And there's more to this game than just gettin' you outta your jeans. The experts say you can tell a lot about a man by the way he plays chess."
"So when did you become an expert on chess?"
"'M not, I'm an expert on you." Tipping the bottle to his mouth, Starsky sipped the beer and watched Hutch. "And the way you're playin' tells me you're upset. Now give."
"I want a cigarette."
"Don't know. Helps me relax."
"I think you're stalling."
"Probably. I can't seem to find the words for what I want to say."
"How 'bout a walk on the beach?" Starsky used his toes to flip his sneakers off, then removed his socks and rolled up his pants. "Maybe it'll help. I'll even spring for the smokes. Might taste good at that."
"What're you doing?"
Starsky wiggled his toes. "I like the feel of wet sand between my toes."
Hutch nodded as he copied Starsky's preparation.
"C'mon. I'll race you to the store."
The night air was cool with the remains of fog as they jogged the three blocks to the Circle K. After debating on all the new brands, they decided on their old standard, Marlboros. When the clerk requested seventy five cents, Starsky sighed and mumbled, "Now I know why we quit." After pocketing his change, he opened the pack with a flourish and deposited the cellophane in the trash. He lit one cigarette with matches provided by the clerk, handed it to Hutch, then lit one for himself.
As they walked away from the lighted store, Starsky inhaled the smoke and the tangy salt air. "Does taste good."
When they reached the beach, Starsky moved out to the water's edge, finding it colder than expected and quickly stepped away.
They walked in silence until the cigarettes were gone. Starsky lit more before asking. "You're remembering Coyle's words, aren't you."
Hutch nodded, the blond hair reflecting the filtered moonlight. "We will be older and more weary and I'm scared to death we'll call him because we can't fight the battle any other way."
Starsky slipped his hand into Hutch's, feeling the slight tremble as the fingers curled around his. "It's called compromise, my love."
Pulling his hand free, Hutch hurled his cigarette into the foaming surf. "I don't want to compromise. Why should I have to? Coyle is a monster and I don't make deals with monsters."
"Does that make Iron Mike a monster, too?"
"I, ah, I don't know."
"Just a few minutes ago, you were defending him."
"I was defending his record."
"Does that mean you're defending his methods, too?"
Hutch watched the sky, then said, "Give me another one of those damn things."
The match's flame shadowed Hutch's face in eerie shadows of gray. After exhaling, Hutch continued, "I think I'm afraid that someday Ferguson's way will be the only way to preserve law and order and I hate that."
"Have you ever listened to the lawyers in the courtroom before the judge comes in?"
Starsky nodded, not wanting to break into Hutch's thoughts.
"It's like those people who pose as adversaries in court but who play golf together and fuck each other, and, well, it's like they decide what the court will do with people's lives and it's only a game to them and the judge just echoes their deals so that there really isn't any justice in the world and a cop can only get results..."
"Like Iron Mike did?"
"Yes. I don't wanna have to make deals with garbage to make the streets safe."
"And if that's the only option you have?"
Walking again, Hutch said, "I don't want it to be my only option."
"You don't have that kind of control. You're a cop, not God."
"Why are you doing this?"
"Pushing?" Hutch dropped to the ground and stared at the water.
"I thought ... hum, this isn't working, is it?" Starsky kicked sand with his toes.
"You can't sprinkle sunshine on this, or bury it in the sand."
"Do you want me to keep trying?" Sitting beside his partner, Starsky picked up a handful of sand and let it fall across Hutch's foot. Filling the cracks between the toes, Starsky waited.
"What was it you said earlier? Talk a little, win a lot? We aren't winning, Starsk. We don't have the Met's chance at the series."
"The usual sure ain't working tonight, pal, but then..."
"You're right. We aren't winning."
"What are you saying?"
"Same thing as you. The ends don't justify the means, not when the means are our lives."
"Cheap philosophy now?"
"Tried just about everything else. Wanna fight?" Starsky trickled sand down the collar of Hutch's shirt. He was ignored. Okay, buddy, enough is enough. He pushed Hutch over and straddled him. "Are you listening Mr. No-Compromise?"
"You got a choice. You're either gonna get sand in places where sand shouldn't be or we're gonna go back to your place and dirty some clean sheets."
"You and what army?"
"No army needed. Not even a joey."
"Yeah. You know why? Because we've had enough games for one night. If the time comes to face Coyle's way, you're gonna do what's right. I got faith."
"Right behind me, huh? A new Starsky's law?"
"Nah. On top. Now what's your choice?"
"What do you think?
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