Work Text:
It wasn't bullets or bad guys, in the end. Starsky didn't know how he was supposed to feel about that: lucky, probably.
And him and Hutch, they had been lucky. They were old farts now; a minor miracle, considering once upon a time he'd had serious doubts that either of them would ever live to see a dime of their pensions.
They were also married old farts—a slightly less minor miracle. Kind of a major one, actually.
So yeah, any way you wanted to look at it, they'd been lucky.
But no lucky streak lasts forever.
Starsky sat on the edge of the bed. When Hutch's eyes fluttered open, he pinned on a cheerful grin. "'Morning, Sleeping Beauty," he said, giving Hutch's cheek a quick peck.
"You got it backwards, Prince Charming." Hutch's breathing was labored, but his words were clear and his tone drily amused. "You're supposed to kiss me and then I wake up, not the other way around."
Starsky felt his smile slip.
"Oh, hell. I didn't—" Hutch began, but Starsky cut him off.
A real kiss, this time. Starsky put everything he had into it, everything he could beg, borrow, and steal. His heart and his soul.
But... well. There really aren't any such things as fairy godmothers.
When Starsky tried to draw away, Hutch slid his fingers into Starsky's graying curls and held on tight. "Nobody gets to live 'happily ever after' forever," Hutch said gently. "It's not about the happy ending, it's about the story. And we had a hell of a story, Starsk, didn't we?"
Starsky nodded, his heart full. "The best, babe."
No, he didn't feel lucky right now, probably wouldn't for a long while. But he did feel loved, and that would last him the rest of his days.