callistosh65

"Hey."

At Hutch's soft call Starsky did look up and smile briefly in his direction, but just when Hutch was listening again for that 'night, Hutch', he reached out and turned the engine off.

"Need to ask you something." Quiet, said to the windshield.

The prickle intensified. Starsky never asked if he could ask him anything.

"Shoot," replied Hutch, turning in his seat toward him as he made one last attempt at lightness. "Gotta tell you though, pal. If it's a train-set you're after, forget it. Already--"

"Did you mean it?" The interruption was calm, but the eyes were not. And they had Hutch trapped. "Today. Did you mean it?"

Hutch had opened his mouth to feign non-understanding, but gave it up the second his partner's eyes found his. He broke their hold. Now it was his turn to stare out the windshield.

About to flip Starsky off with something pacifying and easy, so he could just get the hell out and go to bed, Hutch opened his mouth... and closed it. He found himself thinking. Really thinking. Had he meant it? Would he have thrown the badge, the gun, and the life he had with this man across the desk at Dobey if the D.A had sided with Sims? He rubbed a hand over his eyes before scrubbing it down his face. Did it all hang by so damn little?