nancys_soul: (Hutch Starsk sexy angst by NG)
neaslon ([personal profile] nancys_soul) wrote2011-05-27 02:06 pm

The Ramblings of a Very Love Sick Sinner, by Nancys_soul (Pre/)

This is my first story ever! It was posted in the Here With You zine that was written for the beautiful KAM.
The Ramblings Of A Very Love Sick Sinner

By Nancy

Hutch stared down at the letter and brushed his fingers across the logo of the hotel on the stationary. What was he going to do?

I told my parents I loved you tonight.

It didn't go so well, surprise, surprise.

Guess what ol' buddy, I'm in love with you. I bet you're just thrilled, I can just hear you.
“I love you too, Hutch, but I don't love love you. I need some tits and pussy, and Hutch, I hate to tell you, but you don't have much of one and none of the other.” Ha-ha.

So because I can’t face seeing the disgust on your face, I'm now sitting in a hotel room that looks just like the one we shared when we played sitting ducks for Alex Drew. There are two twin beds and a chair at the end of the bed, just like the one we shared. You were lying on the floor with your legs spread wide and your feet resting on the beds. I was pretending to read the Bible, while all the time looking at you, and imagining you saying, "Hutch I'm open for you, babe, come and get it."

I was so hard, I had to hide my erection behind the Good Book. Blasphemy!

One bottle of Tequila down.

Starsky, Starsky, Starsky… Hutch lay back on the bed, staring at the ceiling feeling despair, longing, and sadness in a way only a depressed drunk can feel. I’m in the Hotel California, on a Horse with No Name, because you aren’t here to give me a name! You’d be proud of me, Starsk, I didn’t score any horse. Hey, that rhymed. I found my “old friend," Jose Cuervo, and now I’m hiding from you!

Can you find me this time, before it's too late? I don’t deserve you, babe; you’re good and I’m bad, so bad. If you only knew what I want to do to you. I want to kiss you all over and over again, in and out and in and out, rock you gently, rock you slowly… who would have known that tequila and a crappy little radio just makes it all worse? All I can do is think about taking my clothes off and…I need a distraction that doesn’t make me think about you naked. There’s got to be something around here.

Hutch got up, elbows propped on his knees, head in his hands. He was drunk out of his gourd and horny. He felt like he was in a deep well and there was no way to get out. He reached out for the empty bottle of tequila and his hand slipped, hitting the drawer of the bedside table.

One thing you can always count on in an old run-down motel is there will be a Gideon’s Bible in the drawer right by the nasty bed. I guess ol` Gideon thought that when you hit rock bottom, reading this will make you want to change or to see the light, or whatever the hell--or should I say, heaven--should make us do. Well, they were wrong. All it did was make me realize that I've sinned, and sinned a lot!

Father, forgive me… No, He would never forgive me because He knows my heart, and I'm not repentant, I can't ask forgiveness for loving and wanting Starsky like I do. So I'm damned to hell, I guess. But how could that be worse than the hell I'm already in? I've messed up everything in my life to the point where you wouldn’t want me, or need me or love me. I'm the sinner of all sinners who have sinned and sinned…

Stop it!

Stop it!

I'm going crazy!

Hutch slapped his forehead, but he couldn't stop thinking and now his big head was hurting just like his little head (Hutch you are just a hoot).

Where's that other bottle of tequila? He glanced around the untidy room. I know I haven’t drunk both bottles. José, buddy where’d you go?

He leaned over the edge of the bed, searching for his good friend.

Oh, there you are, how did you get under there? Stop hiding under the bed.

His head was now spinning and he thought he should just stay hanging over the side of the bed for just a minute until the bed stopped moving. Slowly he eased himself back up and was quite proud of himself for not retching.

He screwed off the lid and took a long swig, the hot, strong alcohol burning his belly. He hadn't eaten in hours but already had one empty bottle. This one would be gone soon, too.

Yeah, now I have a real friend. Tequila tastes so good!

After a couple of swallows, Hutch lay back against the pillows on the bed trying to compose his thoughts to God and Starsky

Back to the subject of sin. Where to go to find out how bad I am: The Ten Commandments. Let’s see how many I have broken:

I am the Lord your God. You shall have no other gods but Me…for I, your God, am a jealous God.

I never pray unless I'm in a jam (not all the time), and then I give Starsky the credit because he’s the one who always comes through for me. So I kind of pick when I need you, and when I don’t. I never say thank you, and I really don’t know if you're real. I put my faith in my gun and in my own abilities, and most importantly, Starsky.

His chest tightened when he started realizing just how bad he really was, and he stared at the bottle of tequila, seeking wisdom and praying that he didn’t die of a heart attack before he finished writing all of this down.

I guess I've sinned big time. And I'm always messing up, so I've not just sinned, I'm stupid.

Who was I to think that I could protect my partner forever? I can’t even take care of myself. Look at me, I'm a mess.

Forgive me.

Hell, I'm doomed because I worship one person, and he's not God. I'm jealous, too, and I want him so bad. You know, God, he's so beautiful and loving and forgiving and perfect, (well at least to me). Yes, I'm a lost soul.

Hutch wiped the back of his hand across his eyes, surprised to find it wet with tears.

You shall not take the name of the Lord your God in vain.

Whoops, I'm goddamned for sure. Wow, José Cuervo, where did you go? I need another drink.

Remember the Sabbath day and keep it holy.

Now every Saturday, I try to rest any chance I get, except when we have to work, so I'm doing good with this one.

Honor your Father and Mother, that your days may be long.

Well, I really sinned for sure here. My father knows I'm a failure; he's told me often enough. And my mother, she told me that I was an abom… abonon… abomination. Yeah that’s it, in your sight.

He could almost hear his mother shouting at him, her pretty face twisted into something hateful and cruel.

“You disgust me, loving another man! You have disrespected me and your father and God.”

Hutch closed his eyes, crying harder now. I should never drink tequila. It makes me confess things I should keep to myself.

He swished the alcohol around before taking a long swallow. He wanted to feel numb, but even after a bottle and a half, he hadn't achieved that minor goal.

She's right. I'm disgusting. I love my best “man” friend, and I ruined his life by not protecting him.

I want to do all sorts of nasty – but wonderful things to his body, and I'm the worst of all sinners.

You shall not murder.

I've killed, but it wasn’t murder.

But now, I want to murder, and I want it so bad. I once read somewhere that if you hate, it's just as bad as murder. Hutch regarded his fingers, folding the five on his right hand down and one digit on his left, with only a little difficulty. Six down and four to go.

You shall not commit adultery.

Fuck! Well, that's what I did. I did it so well that I hurt Starsky, very badly.

What's that song we used to sing in Sunday school, “saved a wretch like me?”

I'm such a wretch. Yeah, who would want to save a wretch like me? Oh God babe I’m so sorry, he cried, as tears ran down his cheeks.

Where was I…number 8? He licked his lips and tried to wipe his eyes, but he wasn't processing thought very well anymore.

You shall not steal.

I stole your woman, I stole your trust, and I stole your faith in me.

You shall not bear false witness against your neighbor.

Ok, I gotta think about this one, and I'm too tired… Yes, I lied to you about Kira, and my feelings about you going back to work. And also how I feel about you and that I want you naked so I can witness your butt and its beauty.

You should not covet.

I covet you, Starsky! I want you, and I want what you give to those women of yours. I want all of your love, and your body, and your time. I want you to want me!

Ok, I've now proven that I've sinned, and sinned a lot, so what am I going to do about it? Is there any re-demp-tion for a wretch like me?

He turned on his side. Stupid move, Hutchinson. Now I feel like retching. HELP me!

God? Starsky?

Because I'm so disgusting (thanks, Mom for this word, it's come in handy). I'm all alone because I've pushed my love away. He doesn’t even know I love him, and if he did, he would probably use that word “disgusting." Since I've sinned against you, God, you're not with me, either (I don’t blame you because I chose to not need you).

Now I'm all alone.

Hutch turned back over and stared up at the ceiling again, humming Amazing Grace. He couldn't move, couldn't go forward, or backward.

I’m a rambling man….

I do have my gun. It's always been faithful to me, and I've taken good care of it. Do I have the guts to put myself and everyone else out of our misery?

He reached across the bed to the holster lying on his jacket, and slipped the .45 out. It felt solid, heavy and dependable in his hand. Part of him. Exactly what he needed.

You are cocked and ready.

He stared at the long barrel, tried to see how many bullets there were, but his eyes were having a hard time focusing.

Can I do this to Starsky? He wouldn’t understand. I could leave him this list of sins and he’d see that I'm the worst, and then maybe he would understand that he's so much better off without me.

The gun was so damned heavy. His wrist trembled and he let the pistol drop back onto the bed.

I'll sleep for a while, and then decide. I'm so tired, and the room's spinning, and I think I need to retch.

Wretch. I'm so funny.

Help me.


He found me. He always finds me, thank GOD!

Hutch turned his face to the blue sky, searching the heavens for some sign of someone listening, because weirdly, he knew there was.

You know, I found out that a saint can always forgive a sinner, and I found out that Saint Starsky loves me, sins and all. For some reason, he says that I'm good, and that he wants me to covet him, he wants me to want him, he needs me to need him, and that he doesn’t mind if I worship his body.

He also said that he'd kill me if I ever committed adultery, because he says I'm his, and that he expects me to bear witness often to his beautiful body, and that he's a jealous Starsky. He makes me take the Lord’s name in vain every time he makes me come. Forgive me, Father!

Hutch smiled, looking across at the house. He could see Starsky puttering in the kitchen through the large plate glass window. Hutch felt at peace for the first time in a long time.

So every Sabbath, I make sure I worship the body of my love, and then we rest.

Oh, one more thing – I've given up tequila for good. It makes me retch and cry like a baby, and Starsky says it makes me do crazy things like make lists and think terrible thoughts (and confess things to my mother). Now I've been forgiven, Tequila's the devil, and I think way too much when I'm drunk. Most of the rest of the time, too.

The beginning.

I want to thank Laura, Keri, and Dawn for helping me write a story that wasn’t just a rambling mess and having a lot of patience with me. Also I want to thank Sue for telling me that Starsky was no saint, because it made me want to write a story to prove that she was wrong!

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