SHSVS Special Halloween Treat

Table of Contents

Missing scenes from Season Five and screengrabs and wallpapers.

Snippets:

Cup of Decaf
by jat sapphire

Missing scene snippet from Ep505, “Faithful to Thee, Cynara”

SHSVS Bag-O-Treats

“I hope that’s decaffeinated, Harold.”

He looked down at the cup in his hand as if he hadn’t just been drinking from it, as if he’d never seen it before. Then he looked up at his wife.

Edith, in her nightgown, looked like everything he’d wanted for years. The gown was cream-colored, a soft and vaguely gleaming material that snagged on the rough skin of his palms but felt good as it slid across her skin. He’d asked at one point, and she’d told him what the stuff was called, but damn if he knew now. It was like Edith, though, that stuff. Fancier than he’d dreamed he could have when he was a boy, and his mother had worn a vast tent of flannel in unbelievably ugly colors because the cloth had been marked way down in price. But not frivolous—his Edith or her nightgown—not satin or silk or anything that cost a week’s salary and only wrinkled and tore and spotted. Nothing cheap and nothing gaudy about her. He stretched out his arm and she walked over to stand inside the curve of it. He pulled her close.

“I think it is,” he said, holding her close and breathing her in.

“I think it’s not,” she said. He never drank the decaf stuff unless she made him do it.

She put her arm around his shoulders, bent to nuzzle in his short-cropped hair. “My crazy man,” she said softly. “How are you gonna sleep now? And what kept you so long anyway?”

“Paperwork.” He’d sat and stared at it in his office until he couldn’t fool himself any more that he was working. But he had been trying to do paperwork, so it wasn’t a lie.

He hated to lie to Edith. He was no good at it anyway.

“Uh-huh,” she said now, unconvinced.

“I saw Kay today,” he told her, though he’d sworn to himself he wouldn’t until, well, until he had to. “A man’s been killed in her restaurant.”

She held him tighter as if to comfort Kay through him. “Oh, poor woman.” She kissed the crown of his head.

“Strangest thing,” he said, “so strange, Edith, but when we were talking I kept, kept thinking…all those years ago…”

“I remember.”

He was sure she did. She had been the one to get up and answer the door, 3:00 in the morning on a school night, and she’d made Kay sit down on one of their teetering chairs pulled up to the sink, while Edith cleaned the blood off her face and she wept. Harold remembered that he’d been embarrassed that he was stuck in his robe and pajama bottoms while his good pants and jacket hung plain as day over another chair and his books and briefcase lay tidily on one quarter of the little round table. And he remembered that he’d gradually forgotten about it as he listened to Kay weep out her shame and anger and fear.

“Leave him,” Harold growled, a procession of other men and other bruised women behind his eyes. Too many domestic calls when he was a beat cop. Always too many.

Kay’s face was so naked when she looked at him that a number of unwelcome truths became clear to all three of them. He’d sort of known, as they worked together over the college papers he found so hard to write and the college mathematics she found so hard to do, with occasional questions or answers from Edith–he had sort of known that Kay was smiling at him awfully warmly, nudging her seat closer to his, but his wife had been right there the whole time, hadn’t she? There was nothing wrong in it, and it had been pleasant to see the admiration in Kay’s eyes.

Well, he could kick himself. Though the person he really wanted to kick was the bastard who’d given her that black eye.

He wondered, all these years later, if that moment of utter embarrassment for all of them was partly why she’d gone back that night. She didn’t leave the bastard for almost a year, when she was pregnant with Harry, and Edith had already had Cal.

He leaned into Edith, rested his cheek against the soft snaggy cloth, rubbed it back and forth a little. His eyes were shut.

“Oh, baby, come to bed, forget all of it,” she said, and he nodded but didn’t open his eyes or move away from her warmth.

Must’ve been decaf after all, he thought when she took the cup out of his hand. ‘Cause he sure could sleep now, he knew he could.

Dreamland
by jat sapphire

Missing scene snippet from Ep505, “Faithful to Thee, Cynara”

SHSVS Bag-O-Treats

There was mist/there wasn’t.

He stumbled across land that went unpredictably up and down, little ridges like a plowed field, but when had he ever been in a plowed field? Or, then, it curved in longer swells like waves, or sudden jolts like stairs he was going down in the dark.

He dropped into the grass as it liquefied, as the land moved freely, turned to water, ocean, sand dunes. He spat sand from his mouth.

He couldn’t find himself. No idea where he was.

“What the hell is going on?”

He needed to find Terry. She would know. Her sun-bright hair, her blue eyes, haunted him as he searched, as he tried to swim in some direction.

Wait. Those eyes weren’t Terry’s, were they? That hair?

He was so alone. He could hear people laughing, people having sex, people’s feet running like hell away, then back–oh, playing basketball.

“Strike one,” he called out. “Hey, where are you?”

The last time he’d dreamed this, he thought-–suddenly clear about it–the last time, he’d found the steep corrugated iron of a dockside, and crawled up it, hauled himself out of the water with stains all down his clothes and bleeding from a half-dozen scrapes. Filthy dirty. He had made his way through the dark, smelly streets to the Torino, driven like a madman, found the graveyard, and gone looking for Terry there. He knew she was there. He could talk to her.

But now he couldn’t remember whether he had found her.

Fucking dream. His arms were so tired, and his chest ached, and he wanted out. He heard…

..a voice…

..a voice he loved…

“Don’t!” He put his hands over his ears, pressed hard and sank, opening his mouth, eager to take the water in because he was crying too hard, had cried too long, and he didn’t want to get dehydrated.

Then he woke.

Fantasy Shots
by Keri T.

Alternate ending for Ep513, “When Looks Can Kill”

SHSVS Bag-O-Treats

The look on his partner’s face as he made his request really was priceless. Starsky sat up a little straighter, raised the camera and snapped three quick shots. “See? Easy. I just got that beautiful face of yours looking all shy and hot. Pull your shirttail out of your jeans.”

Starsky smiled a little at the mesmerized look on Hutch’s face, knowing he was responding to Starsky’s commanding tone. He watched while Hutch took a sip of wine and set the glass down. Slowly, he pulled his shirt free from his pants. The music was low and sexy, and his partner was beautiful.

Click.

“This is really crazy, Starsk,” Hutch spoke while fingering his shirttail. “Don’t you think this is crazy?”

“I think it’s hot. I think it’s gonna get even hotter when you start unbuttoning your shirt.”

Hutch gulped once, almost audibly, but he went to the top button of his shirt and unfastened it. His eyes locked on Starsky’s. “Okay. Okay, take your shots, but I undo a button, and you undo a button.” Hutch’s hand lingered over his second button as Starsky clicked again. “I mean it. I’ll give you a show but I want something in return.”
Starsky moved the camera strap slightly in order to unfasten one of his own buttons. A tiny smattering of dark hair peered through the opening. “Now you. Kick your shoes off and give me a few more buttons.”

Hutch did as he was told. He toed his loafers off one at a time and kicked them across the room. Starsky saw his embarrassment fading as his desire climbed. Hutch turned around and bent low to remove his socks, taking sweet, lazy time to do it. Starsky felt his breaths coming faster. “Turn around, Hutch.” He readied his camera.
When Hutch turned around he was smiling and then he licked his lips wetly. Got him. Hutch undid four more buttons.

Click.

“Open it,” Starsky hissed. “Undo the last of them and spread your shirt open.”

“You’re lagging behind, partner,” Hutch whispered as he complied. “Come on, catch up.”

Starsky got a few more buttons undone at the same time that Hutch’s shirt was completely unfastened. He raised his camera. “Pull it open, let me see all that smooth chest.”
Hutch’s eyes were heavy-lidded as he pulled the material wide, revealing nipples that were raised and taut.

“Touch them,” Starsky whispered. “Run your hands all over them. See if you can get them as hard as I can.”
Hutch ran his palms over the hard protrusions again and again, his eyes never leaving Starsky’s face. “I like it better when you do it.”

Click.

“Pinch them. Come on, two fingers…pinch them.” Hutch moaned a little and Starsky could feel his pleasure as if it was his own. “More, Hutch, do it more.”

“Starsk… oh, man.”

“Feels good, don’t it? Makes you want my hands all over you, right?”

“You know it does. Makes me want to touch you more, though. Get my fingers all tangled up in that hair…then I’d start sucking.”

Starsky could feel the pulse in his cock throb, almost as if it were keeping time to the beat of the music and not the beat of his pulse. “Love it when you do that. When you make your mouth so wet and you suck me…not just my nipples, ya know. All of me.”

Hutch ran his tongue around his lips again before he answered. “I could come over there right now. You’ve already got your legs spread.” A pointed stare followed the words, as Hutch gazed hungrily at Starsky’s crotch. “You want me, too. You want me to come over there and get on my knees. Take your zipper down. Reach my hand inside…oh, yeah. I wanna come over there right now.”

“Nuh-uh,” Starsky whispered, raising the camera again. “I want my show. Come on, take your shirt all the way off.”

Hutch did it slowly. One sleeve first, before he caught the cuff of the other in his teeth and pulled the garment completely off. He stood very still, legs slightly apart, and hooked both thumbs in the waistband of his jeans, pulling them tight against his groin. The bulge was prominent, the head of his cock clearly outlined.

Click.

“Oh, God,” Starsky moaned. “You’re so fucking gorgeous. And you’re all mine.”

Hutch smiled and nodded, removing his hands from his jeans and stroking his chest again. “All yours. And you’re all mine, babe. Every last beautiful inch of you.” He rocked his hips seductively and arched his neck. “Now you. Lose the shirt.”

Still sitting, Starsky removed the camera from his neck and placed it on his lap. Then he finished unfastening his shirt, his eyes never leaving his partner’s face. He found his wine glass and lifted it to his lips, taking a sip. He smiled a little before dipping two fingers in the glass and holding them up for inspection. The golden droplets started to run as he rubbed them into each nipple, one at a time. “See, Hutch? I’m gonna make ’em taste real good for you tonight.” He leered at Hutch, enjoying the expression on his flushed face, and raised the camera back up. “You like that idea? Wanna suck the wine right off me, don’t you?”

Click.

“Yes. I wanna pour the whole bottle over all my favorite places and suck it all off you. I wanna get drunk on you. I am drunk on you. I love you.”

“I know. Love you back, and now I want to see that zipper of yours come down. Real, real slow.”

“You want to see what I’ve got for you? All for you?” Hutch complied with the request. He lowered his own head as if he, too, wanted to see what was under the zipper. Once he was done, he let his hands drop to his sides, his cock quickly jutting the thin fabric of his briefs to poke through the opened fly.

Starsky wiggled on the couch, finding it very hard to stay seated when his body was on fire. “Shimmy them off, Hutch. Move your ass until your pants slide down your legs.”

“Not until you take your zipper down. Come on, lean back against the couch and lower it.”

Starsky complied, grateful for the room needed to keep his engorged penis from bursting through the metal teeth. “You’ve got me so hard. Oh, man, can’t believe it. What you do to me.”

“I haven’t done anything to you yet.”

“Hear that music? I can feel it,” Starsky whispered. “Feel it like it’s playing inside my head. Shimmy your pants off to the music, Hutch.”
Hutch used his hands to lower the jeans just a little down his hips; the swaying motion of his ass and legs worked with gravity to pool the jeans at his feet.

Click.

He posed now. Starsky wanted to enfold his partner in his arms when he realized how into the game Hutch was. He wasn’t standing anymore; he was posing. Provocatively. Sexily. Posturing for both the camera and for him. His heart swelled. His cock throbbed.

“Hutch?”

“Yeah, Starsk? This what you wanted to see? Me getting all naked for you?”

“God, yes.”

“It’s what I want from you, too.” Hutch smiled lasciviously. “On your feet. Get those pants off.”

Starsky slipped the camera back around his neck before he slowly rose. Unlike his partner before him, he removed his own jeans quickly. “I wore underwear today,” he announced unnecessarily.

“I can see that,” Hutch said. “Take them off.”

“Oh, no, gorgeous. You first. I’ve got some pictures to take.”

Hutch nodded and started to remove his briefs.

Click.

When Hutch was completely nude, he placed his hands on his hips. His full cock rested against his lower belly. “Now what Mr. Photographer?”

“Touch it.” Starsky’s words were a breathy command. “Take it in your palm. Rub your balls with your other hand.”

“Oh, God,” Hutch moaned, stroking his cock. “Oh, God, babe. Need you.” He spread his legs a little wider and rubbed his balls hard. “Need you, Starsk.”

“Soon. Real, real soon.”

Click.

“Now. I need you. Come here. Let me touch you. Let me take your underwear off myself and touch you.”

“Turn around for me first.”

Hutch groaned, but he released his swollen cock and did as he was asked. His ass cheeks clenched, then released.

“Can you reach your hands behind you, Hutch? Can you rub all over that smooth skin on that butt of yours? Feel what I’m gonna be feeling in just a minute.”
Hutch moved both hands to his backside and stroked it. When he slipped his fingers between the division Starsky groaned and tried to keep focused.

Click.

“Damn it, Starsky! Now! Now!”

Starsky removed the camera and then his underwear in one swift motion. He hurried to his partner, pressing his warm body tight against him. “I think I got some great shots.” Starsky backed up a little and took his cock in hand, rubbing it hard up and down the deep separation.

“Starsk…babe…wait. Not that; not now, okay? Later for that. In bed?” Hutch turned around as he spoke.

“Let’s go to bed now, then,” Starsky whispered, before finally kissing his partner deeply. Starsky commanded the kiss and Hutch gave him no resistance, opening his mouth wide to accept his seeking tongue. Hutch was running his hands all over Starsky’s back and ass and Starsky growled into the kiss, then felt robbed when Hutch broke the suction. “What…?”

“Or we could do this first,” Hutch said. ”Right here and now.” Hutch eliminated any room between their bodies and started to rock. “We can do our own dance right here. I’m so hot for you.”

Starsky gasped as he felt the sharp protrusion rubbing against his upper pubic region. “Okay, okay. We’ll dance. Bend your knees a little, Blondie. Got to get us all lined up.” When Hutch had lowered his body slightly, Starsky grabbed his own cock and pressed it against his partner’s. “Now. Dance with me.”

Both men took hold of each other’s asses as they rocked in time with their heartbeats, the music roaring and fading, their breaths coming faster and faster. Starsky pressed his forehead tightly against Hutch’s. “Look at us, humping like seventeen-year-olds,” Starsky panted out, then he bit his lip before speaking again. “I’m close. I’m real close.”

Hutch was panting, too. “I feel like I’m going to explode from the inside out. You’re shattering me.” Starsky felt Hutch’s fingers dig deeper into his rear.

“Yes! Ohhhhh…” Hutch’s knees sank a little lower and he jetted against Starsky. “Sweet… so, sweet.” He panted softly for a few seconds before moving back a little. “Let me finish it, let me take care of you,” Hutch murmured, grasping Starsky hard, pumping him so fine.

Starsky moved his hands from Hutch’s ass to his shoulders, trying to balance them both. “Tighter, Hutch, harder… God, yes. There, babe, there.” The frantic pumping quickened as Hutch tightened his hand, allowing just enough room for the slick flesh to slide through. “Oh, yeah. oh, yeah…” Starsky groaned as his essence shot from him.

Neither spoke for a few seconds. Starsky was trying to catch his breath and knew Hutch was doing the same. He tried his voice out. “Okay, now can we go to bed? My body could use a horizontal position right about now.”

“It could use a shower more.” Hutch laughed, the sound its own kind of music. “We’re kind of sticky and sweaty now. How about if we grab the wine, shower, and then slip unto bed all nice and clean.”

“You trying to pace us?” Starsky asked, grinning.

“Uh-huh. We’ve got all night and all day tomorrow. You may have forgotten but I haven’t.”

“Forgotten what?” Starsky questioned teasingly.

“That tomorrow’s our day off, and we’re not getting out of bed all day.” Hutch broke free and started toward the bedroom at a lazy pace.

Starsky turned the stereo off and grabbed the bottle of wine. He was halfway to the bedroom before he turned back and picked up his camera as well. He was humming a little as he shut the bedroom door.

Screengrabs

Either right click (on a PC) or Control-click (on a Mac) on the image and choose “Save Link” or “Download Link” to download the ZIP file with screen grabs from the episode.