Title: Goodnight
Author: Paula Wilshe
Type: Gen
Summary: The end of a difficult week.
Notes: This story originally appeared in the zine Venice Place Times, Volume I, which was published in October 2001.
Format: Story
Categories: PWP, Zine Story
Rating: G
Size: 12K
Date Added: 2002-11-23
Goodnight
by Paula Wilshe
I'm so tired...
I haven't slept a wink
I'm so tired
My mind is on the blink...
Ken Hutchinson hummed softly along with the radio, as K Earth 101's Spring Into Summer Beatles Weekend kicked into gear. It was Friday night of Memorial Day weekend, and Hutch and his partner, David Starsky, had been assigned to watch the parking lot of a beachside restaurant for the bulk of their three to eleven shift.
Although it was possible that the drug buy might actually go down, Hutch suspected it would not. The weather was normally lovely in Southern California at this time of year, and had been for some time, yet it seemed as if the whole town of Los Angeles was suddenly laid back and in Endless Summer mode. Probably, he thought with a wry smile, the dealers were off someplace planning a cookout.
The breeze off the ocean was cool and damp, and a light patter of drizzle made patterns and drips on the windshield, but the forecast for the weekend was perfect--warm, sunny days, and balmy clear nights. Hutch sighed in pleasured anticipation--not only was he looking forward to the weekend ahead, somehow he and Starsky had managed to have their names off the duty roster for the next three days. Three whole days. In a row, yet.
He'd have to remember to thank Captain Dobey, for he suspected that their superior had pulled some strings to give them these three much-needed days over a holiday weekend. He rubbed his eyes tiredly. Then again, they'd gone seven days straight without a break, switching shifts in between, working on a murder case which they had only wrapped up the evening before. They'd completed the requisite paperwork sometime in the early morning hours.
Starsky had had it, Hutch knew. He was done in, and who wouldn't have been? They'd worked their butts off the last few weeks, and it showed. The slump of his shoulders when he'd picked Hutch up that afternoon would have been enough to give it away, but when Hutch had offered to drive from the precinct up to Santa Monica and Starsky had agreed...well, that had sure confirmed Hutch's suspicions.
"Starsk?" Hutch glanced fondly at his dark haired partner, who was pressed up against the passenger side window of the Torino, eyes closed. "You dozin'?"
"Nnn...." Starsky answered, shaking his head slightly. "Just restin' my eyes is all. Anything happening?"
"Nope. No one's gone in or out." Hutch yawned and stretched. "Don't think they will, either, just a feelin'"
"You want me to watch for a while?" Starsky offered, sitting up. He struggled to open his eyes wider, they were puffy and irritated, and he rubbed at them gingerly.
Hutch shook his head. "Nah, go back to sleep, I've got it."
Starsky shook his head as if to clear it. "Wasn't asleep," he said, trying to rally. "You want somethin' to eat or somethin'? I could go in the restaurant and order takeout." A yawn, which seemed to come from his very soul split his body nearly in two, and he massaged his eyes again.
Hutch chuckled softly. "I don't think you could make it to the door." He reached over and tousled the dark curls affectionately. "You okay? You comin' down with something?"
Starsky shook his head drowsily. "Mm mm. I feel fine, I'm just really sleepy."
"Well, why?" Hutch prodded. "I mean, I know we've been working late and--"
"Haven't been sleeping great," Starsky answered, shrugging his shoulders dismissively.
"Why not?"
Starsky shrugged again. "Dunno," he answered. "Been about a week now."
Hutch nodded. "It was a crummy case," he allowed. "Enough to upset anybody...all those runaway kids ending up junkies, and....the girl dead and all."
"I'm not upset," Starsky assured him. "I'll go get us coffee."
"Last thing you need is coffee," Hutch told him firmly. "Rest for a while, we've only got an hour to go. You wanna go to the beach or something tomorrow?"
Starsky yawned again. "Yeah, that'd be good. Why'n't I stay at your place tonight, then?"
"Good idea," Hutch agreed, "since we're only ten blocks from there anyhow. Get some good sleep tonight, hit the beach tomorrow, we'll have a good weekend, get some steaks, maybe? Grill out?"
"Yeah," Starsky agreed, leaning his head on an arm, and nestling against the window again. "That sounds good..."
Please don't wake me
No don't shake me
Leave me as I am,
I'm only sleeping...
Ah, what a great song, Hutch sighed as he pulled the Torino up behind his own battered LTD, which was parked in front of Venice Place. Cutting the engine, he reached over to shake Starsky's shoulder gently. "Starsk? Starsk?"
Starsky opened his eyes slowly, blinking hard even in the soft glow from the streetlight. "What? Whatsa matter?"
"Nothin's the matter, Starsk, we're home," Hutch told him. "Last mile, get yourself up the steps, and you're home free. I'll even let you have the bed, if you want." He frowned, and reached over to lay a hand on Starsky's forehead. "You sure you're okay?"
"I'm sure, Hutch," Starsk flashed him a quick smile. "Just tired."
"You don't have a fever,"
"I coulda told you that."
"Head hurt?"
"Nope."
"Throat hurt?"
"No."
"The shoulder again? Did you take one of your muscle relaxer things?"
"Hutch," Starsky looked at him earnestly. "No. Nothing hurts, I didn't take anything. Can't a guy just be tired?"
"I guess...." Hutch looked unconvinced. "But you're really out of it."
"More than usual?" the dark haired man chuckled.
"Good point," Hutch agreed. "How would I know?"
I'm so tired
I'm feeling so upset
I'm so tired
I'll have another cigarette...
Hutch awakened from a sound sleep to hear his partner tossing and turning on the bed in the alcove, the sound alerting him, even over the soft strains from the stereo, which they'd left on a few hours before. He sat up, listening for a moment, and from the sounds of Starsky's breathing, knew his partner was quite wide awake.
He knew that whatever it was that was bugging Starsky would eventually spill out, and yet he couldn't help but feel a wash of sympathy, as tired as the guy was, denied even the respite of a good sleep. Rising quietly, he padded in to the bedroom and sat down on the edge of the bed. Hey," he said, massaging a taut shoulder. "What's goin' on?"
Starsky sighed deeply. "I'm so sorry, Hutch, I didn't mean to wake you up, I shoulda gone home...."
"It's okay," Hutch said, instinctively laying a hand on Starsky's forehead again.
"Hutch, quit it, I'm not sick, I'm tellin' ya." Starsky pushed his hand away. "You're startin' to irritate me," he added, although the quick squeeze to Hutch's wrist belied his words.
Hutch settled himself back against the headboard. "Then what?"
"I have no idea," Starsky told him. "I'm not even upset about anything, I swear. It's like...it's like...I'm so tired, I'm too tired to fall asleep." He turned his head on the pillow and looked up at the blond detective. "That sounds crazy, doesn't it?"
"Kind of, yeah," Hutch admitted. He reached down and patted Starsky's shoulder again. "No, it doesn't sound crazy, not at all. This has been a bitch of a two weeks, I think you're just wound up."
"Maybe," Starsky said. He yawned deeply. "My eyes hurt so bad, they burn."
"Well," Hutch thought a minute. "We can do something about that." He eased himself off the bed and disappeared for a few moments. When he returned, he held out a mug, pulling Starsky up to rest against the headboard as well. "Here you go," he said. "Drink this."
Even in the darkness, Hutch could see Starsky's suspicious nose-wrinkle. "What is it?"
"Warm milk."
"Warm milk?" Starsky protested. "You've gotta be kiddin' me."
"I never kid about warm milk."
"You don't have to," Starsky complained. "Warm milk is a joke unto itself." He took a tentative sip, and then another. "Actually," he said, surprised, "it's not half bad."
Hutch smiled. "Sounds worse than it is, huh?"
"Yeah." Starsky upended the mug, draining its contents. "Really."
"My grandfather always swore by it."
"Yeah, but isn't he the one who--"
"Yes," Hutch sighed, "he's the one who..."
"And you used to eat that?"
"Yes," Hutch sighed again, having been through this conversational exchange more times than he could count. "Scoot down a little in the bed," he told his partner.
Starsky raised one eyebrow. "Why?" he asked suspiciously.
"Stop being suspicious. Do you trust me, or not?"
Starsky yawned and scooted down. "I'm too tired to argue," he said.
"Close your eyes."
Starsky complied with a, "Why, what are you gonna do?"
"This," Hutch said quietly, laying a cool cloth across his partner's eyes. "It'll help."
Golden slumbers fill your eyes
Smiles awake when you arise
Sleep, pretty darling, do not cry
And I will sing a lullaby...
"You think I'm pretty?" Starsky asked with a chuckle as Hutch harmonized softly with the radio. "What, you're gonna sing me to sleep now?"
"You should be so lucky," Hutch nudged him. "Move over a little."
Starsky moved toward the opposite side of the bed, as Hutch stretched out on his own side. "Sounds nice, anyway," he said, pressing the cool cloth down against his eyes. "Love the Beatles...."
"Yeah," Hutch agreed. "Neat that K-Earth's doing that this weekend, huh?"
Starsky turned over on his side, holding the cloth in place. "This feels really good," he said.
"Thought it might," Hutch yawned.
"You've got to be exhausted too. Don't sit up with me, I'm fine."
"I know you are."
"I really am."
"I know. I'm the one who broods, not you."
"Exactly," Starsky said, the smile evident in his voice. He nestled his head into the pillow. "The beach will be fun, huh?"
"Yeah," Hutch agreed, closing his eyes. "I'm lookin' forward to it."
"Been a while." Starsky pulled the blankets up over his shoulder, and turned on his stomach. "Take the frisbee, maybe...have a catch...."
Hutch sat up slightly, bracing himself on an elbow, facing Starsky. He reached out a hand and gently began to massage the back of Starsky's neck. He did so softly and slowly, and after several moments, he could feel the tension in the bunched muscles begin to relax.
Now it's time to say goodnight
Good night, sleep tight
Now the sun turns out his light
Good night, sleep tight...
Hutch continued the soft massage, keeping his touch light and gentle. He moved down to the tops of Starsky's shoulders, and by the time he'd reached the middle of Starsky's back, the dark haired man was totally relaxed and snoring gently.
Pleased with himself, Hutch rolled onto his back. "Damn, you're good, Hutchinson," he thought, knowing that now Starsky would be out for the count. He reached over and retrieved the damp but no longer cool washcloth, which had slipped off Starsky's eyes when he'd turned over. Laying it on the nightstand, he tilted the clock radio toward him. Two a.m. Not so bad, they could both get a decent night's sleep before diving into the weekend.
The weekend would make it all better, he knew, time off together always did.
Dream sweet dreams for me
Dream sweet dreams for you...
Humming along, Hutch turned his head and watched his partner sleeping soundly. He'd go back to the couch in a few minutes, he knew, maybe when the song was done. For the moment, though, maybe he'd just keep watch. Maybe they'd always stay safe like this.
"Good night, Starsk," Hutch whispered softly, just before he, too, began to doze.
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