 |
 |
FanficAuthor: Enednoviel Title: Alive Genre: Slash, but nothing graphic Rating: PGish Summary: Starsky is in trouble and Hutch comes to the rescue. Disclaimer: Don’t own them. It's all Spelling/Goldberg's fault. I’m just playing and having fun with the boys. No copyright infringement intended. Feedback: Makes the world go round. Thanks to KimberlyFDR for the beta! All remaining mistakes are my own. Alive So this was what it was like when you got strangled, Starsky dimly thought. Red dots danced and multiplied in his already limited vision, threatening to engulf him. Two strong hands had his throat in an iron grip, the stale breath of his opponent brushing his face mere inches away. His body flooded with adrenaline and his survival instinct still in full gear, Starsky struggled to get free, but deep down he already knew it was useless. His adversary being an ex-wrestler and weighing about three times more than Starsky, it felt like he could easily snap Starsky’s neck in two, single-handed. He and Hutch had followed him into an abandoned warehouse. The suspect had been unarmed and alone, so they separated at the entrance to cover the large building as best as they could. Sure of themselves and their weapons drawn, Hutch went for the ground floor and Starsky slowly climbed up the creaking metal stairwell, going up to the second floor. They’d catch their perp soon; it was only a matter of time. No big deal. And yet, here he was, being strangled to death because he had let his guard down and the huge man had grabbed him from behind. The Beretta clattered to the ground, useless and beyond reach as Starsky was lifted off his feet and pressed against the wall, while the life was slowly choked out of him and his consciousness was slowly slipping away. Starsky was still coherent enough to mentally curse himself for his lack of caution. But his mind had been elsewhere. He almost felt the urge to laugh at the stupidity of it all. What a silly way to die. No blaze of glory in a hail of bullets. No, strangled to death by this oversized and sad excuse for a human being because he had been thinking about Hutch. The perp tightened his death grip on the detective. "Now you’re gonna die, pig!" With burning lungs and his whole body screaming for oxygen, Starsky gave up his useless struggle and went limp. His last conscious thought as his vision was drowned in a bottle of black ink was I’m sorry, Hutch. ***** They say that when you died, hearing was the last of the senses to go. He strained his ears and listened to the whispering voice; a familiar voice, a beloved voice. Then he felt a wet sensation. He felt something smooth and moist placed upon his mouth, sweet breath and life forced back into his deprived lungs. The sensation left him again and a warm breeze caressed his cold face. If Starsky had been able to move, he’d have wept for the loss of this wonderful feeling. But his body didn’t obey his mind anymore. Soft lips closing over his mouth again, forcing air through his abused throat into him. Soft whispering. His consciousness slowly returned and he heard someone whispering his name. And again, the beautiful, lush lips were back on his. Hutch’s lips. He was alive, wasn’t he? He had to be. But on second thought, maybe he was dead after all. Maybe he had died and gone to heaven and Hutch was with him. Or, if he wasn’t dead, this had to be a dream. This had been part of what he had been thinking about when the goon had grabbed him from behind. When he would finally find the courage and kiss his partner? His male partner - whom he had fallen in love with, there was no more denying it. He tried to open his eyes, but his whole body seemed to have turned into lead. He felt like a puppet whose strings had been cut, his body refusing to cooperate. The wonderful presence above him moved away, leaving him feeling empty and forlorn, his lips tingling back to life with disappointment about the loss of contact. No, there he was, the blond head resting on his chest, listening to Starsky’s ragged breathing and heartbeat. Starsky desperately wanted to lift his hand and reach out for the soft blond hair, assuring his partner that he was still alive. After what seemed like an eternity, Starsky managed to open his eyes and found a pair of worried blue eyes staring down at him. "Starsk?" the beloved voice asked him softly. He wanted to tell Hutch that he was okay, that this was one hell of a way to be rescued, but his bruised throat prevented that. He could hardly breathe as it was. The red dots were back, flooding his vision, and he felt he was going under again. Trying to fight it, Starsky weakly lifted his hands, miraculously mastered enough strength to hold onto the other detective’s jacket and pulled him down to another sweet kiss that said more than any words ever could. The last thing he remembered was Hutch’s surprised gasp and the feeling of loss at their separation, and a calloused hand cupping his cheek, the warmth seeping into his skin like a ray of light. He wouldn’t have minded to die at this very moment and fell again into the pitch black darkness, leaving the light behind. ******* He was feeling the wet sensation again. Not on his lips, but someone was placing a tender kiss on his forehead. Breathing in he noticed the unmistakable scent of a hospital room, disinfectant and...Hutch. A scent so intoxicating; so unique and so close that Starsky wanted to weep. Slowly resurfacing to the conscious world around him, he found again the familiar pair of blue eyes hovering above him. Why did Hutch look so scared? He wanted to brush away the deep frown on the face over him with his hand, but his arm felt like it weighed a ton. Hutch’s gaze found his and Starsky drowned in the love that was shining in his partner’s blue eyes. Hutch understood. He always did. Starsky watched as his partner leaned down and kissed him softly, a tender touch full of promise brushing his lips. "We’ll talk later, Starsk. I’ll be here. I’ll be waiting." Of course Hutch would be there. His heart filled with the joy at the knowledge of being loved and Starsky let himself drift away into the realm of healing. FIN |
G e nthose things we never say S l a s hlockout advent calendar snippet liquid time a different kind of shootout reconciliation alive DisclaimerStarsky & Hutch and all related concepts, characters, etc, as well as the rights to all televised episodes belong to Spelling/Goldberg Productions, Inc. No copyright infringements are intended. This site is owned and maintained by enednoviel. |