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crack_van2008-03-31 03:18 pm
lauramcewan.livejournal.com) wrote in crack_van2008-03-31 03:18 pm
Entry tags:
Falling Slowly by Susan (NC-17)
Falling Slowly by Susan (Hard hard R)
Fandom: STARSKY AND HUTCH
Pairing: Starsky/Hutch
Length: 88K
Author on LJ:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
sjames_centre
Author Website: Fiction by Susan (scroll down to her name)
Why this must be read:
I've thoroughly enjoyed my time here this month, and I hope I've introduced you to some stories that you might enjoy. For my last rec, Falling Slowly.
This is one of those stories where you can't just read it and be done with it. When insomnia takes you, this is the story you think of, turning it over and over in your mind.
Susan uses a wonderful economy of words, delicate and never over-heavy. She says things so simply, yet you walk away feeling as if you've had a full-course meal.
Starsky wants Hutch, but Hutch isn't sure he's ready to give over everything traditional and just be with Starsky. Susan guides us through this maze of heartache, love, and fear, all while tackling a case that takes us up to Bloodbath canon.
He folded up the map and got it right the first time. Like always. I have many gifts, but map folding ain’t one of them. “I went to sit in the car before, while you were still asleep,” he said. “I wanted to drive away from everything. All of this. Be somewhere else. Be someone else.” He rubbed at the inside of his left arm, he still did that when he was tired.
My heart skipped a beat on the word everything. “Why didn’t you?”
“Well, it was your car and you’d have a warrant out for my ass before I made it out of town.”
“True.” He scared me a little when he got like this—I worried there was no room left for me. “Anything else?”
He shrugged. “Thought I should wait for you.”
“To wake up?”
“To catch up. You still think we can fix things out there.” He waved an arm towards the window. “It’s all bullshit, what we do, you know that? Like that game at the fair—pound one gopher into the ground, and another one pops up somewhere else.” He pulled a pack of Marlboros from the pocket of his shirt. I blamed the cigarettes on Forest too. He took one out and stared at it a minute before lifting it to his lips to light it.
“We can fix things, Hutch. Not all the time, but enough.” I’m not sure I believed it, but I wanted to. I remembered what he was like when we met in the academy—three years of college sociology under his belt and all the naiveté that went with it. We didn’t see each for a few years after that, then we met again after we both made detective and got partnered up. And for the past year, we had this, whatever this was. Our own strange geometry. I wondered if we were like the roads in his maps, coming together and parting, over and over. I didn’t fool myself that he was in love with me. He was my best friend and he needed me, and most of the time he wanted me. But he still believed a woman was his best chance for a happy ending. I was for everything else. And I knew he’d met someone a couple weeks earlier, a writer, he said. The fact that he hadn’t brought her around yet made me nervous, but I was trying hard not to read too much into it.
I leaned down over him, took the cigarette from his mouth and rested it in the ashtray. “Let’s go back to bed. We have time.” Then I kissed him and pulled him up from the chair. “I’ll make you scrambled eggs after,” I promised.
“Starsk . . . I’m not sure how much longer I can do this . . .”
“C’mon. Out there can wait.” But I didn’t think he was talking about out there anymore.
He nodded slowly and let me lead him back to the bedroom. He stopped at the door, and I thought he’d changed his mind.
“My cigarette . . .”
“It’ll burn itself out. It’s time you quit smoking again anyway. A man should only have one vice at a time.”
He smiled like I remembered and I pulled him into the room.
“And what should my vice be, Detective Starsky?”
“Me.”
Falling Slowly
Fandom: STARSKY AND HUTCH
Pairing: Starsky/Hutch
Length: 88K
Author on LJ:
sjames_centreAuthor Website: Fiction by Susan (scroll down to her name)
Why this must be read:
I've thoroughly enjoyed my time here this month, and I hope I've introduced you to some stories that you might enjoy. For my last rec, Falling Slowly.
This is one of those stories where you can't just read it and be done with it. When insomnia takes you, this is the story you think of, turning it over and over in your mind.
Susan uses a wonderful economy of words, delicate and never over-heavy. She says things so simply, yet you walk away feeling as if you've had a full-course meal.
Starsky wants Hutch, but Hutch isn't sure he's ready to give over everything traditional and just be with Starsky. Susan guides us through this maze of heartache, love, and fear, all while tackling a case that takes us up to Bloodbath canon.
He folded up the map and got it right the first time. Like always. I have many gifts, but map folding ain’t one of them. “I went to sit in the car before, while you were still asleep,” he said. “I wanted to drive away from everything. All of this. Be somewhere else. Be someone else.” He rubbed at the inside of his left arm, he still did that when he was tired.
My heart skipped a beat on the word everything. “Why didn’t you?”
“Well, it was your car and you’d have a warrant out for my ass before I made it out of town.”
“True.” He scared me a little when he got like this—I worried there was no room left for me. “Anything else?”
He shrugged. “Thought I should wait for you.”
“To wake up?”
“To catch up. You still think we can fix things out there.” He waved an arm towards the window. “It’s all bullshit, what we do, you know that? Like that game at the fair—pound one gopher into the ground, and another one pops up somewhere else.” He pulled a pack of Marlboros from the pocket of his shirt. I blamed the cigarettes on Forest too. He took one out and stared at it a minute before lifting it to his lips to light it.
“We can fix things, Hutch. Not all the time, but enough.” I’m not sure I believed it, but I wanted to. I remembered what he was like when we met in the academy—three years of college sociology under his belt and all the naiveté that went with it. We didn’t see each for a few years after that, then we met again after we both made detective and got partnered up. And for the past year, we had this, whatever this was. Our own strange geometry. I wondered if we were like the roads in his maps, coming together and parting, over and over. I didn’t fool myself that he was in love with me. He was my best friend and he needed me, and most of the time he wanted me. But he still believed a woman was his best chance for a happy ending. I was for everything else. And I knew he’d met someone a couple weeks earlier, a writer, he said. The fact that he hadn’t brought her around yet made me nervous, but I was trying hard not to read too much into it.
I leaned down over him, took the cigarette from his mouth and rested it in the ashtray. “Let’s go back to bed. We have time.” Then I kissed him and pulled him up from the chair. “I’ll make you scrambled eggs after,” I promised.
“Starsk . . . I’m not sure how much longer I can do this . . .”
“C’mon. Out there can wait.” But I didn’t think he was talking about out there anymore.
He nodded slowly and let me lead him back to the bedroom. He stopped at the door, and I thought he’d changed his mind.
“My cigarette . . .”
“It’ll burn itself out. It’s time you quit smoking again anyway. A man should only have one vice at a time.”
He smiled like I remembered and I pulled him into the room.
“And what should my vice be, Detective Starsky?”
“Me.”
Falling Slowly
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