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Ask Me No Questions and I'll Tell You No Lies	By : OpenPage Category: 1 through F > 21 Jump Street Views: 2448 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own 21JS or the characters. I do not make any money from the writing of this story. All characters and events in this story are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead is coincidental.

Chapter List
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Pulling his Cadillac up to the curb, Dennis’ heart fluttered when he caught sight of Tom walking out of the hostel. He was certain that none of his past lovers had ever evoked such a level of excitement within him and for the hundredth time since Tom came to town, he marveled at the electricity that sparked between them. Just looking at Tom made him horny and he knew that he needed to maintain his focus and keep a level head. It was just lunch, nothing more, except of course there was the memory of the previous night and their sexual encounter hanging uncomfortably between them. He knew they needed to discuss what it meant and more importantly, they needed to come to a decision about their future. Until they did, neither of them would be able to move forward.
The passenger door opened and Tom climbed into the car. “Hey,” he greeted in a bright voice.
Pushing all thoughts of sex from his mind, Booker smiled. “Hey,” he echoed. “How’d you sleep?”
Tom’s cheeks flushed pink and he averted his gaze. “Not that well,” he admitted quietly. “I couldn’t stop thinking about… well, you know.”
“Yeah,” Dennis sighed. “I know.”
An awkward silence hung in the air until Dennis took the initiative. “Hungry?” he asked.
Shaking his head, Tom gave a crooked smile. “But I could use a drink,” he suggested.
“Drinks it is,” Dennis replied and checking his mirrors, he pulled out into the traffic.
They drove in silence for several minutes before Tom spoke. “So, how’s the new job?” he asked in a voice that sounded slightly on edge.
The note of uneasiness in Tom’s voice was not lost on Booker and he hesitated for a moment before answering. “Challenging,” he replied. “The day you arrived on my doorstep a prisoner died from a stab wound.”
Another long silence stretched out before Tom spoke again. “Is that how you got the black eye?” he asked quietly.
Lifting his hand off the steering wheel, Booker touched his bruised face self-consciously. “Yeah,” he murmured. “But I guess I got off lightly, all things considered.”
Tom’s mouth set in a hard line. The thought of Dennis scuffling with a prisoner armed with a shank frightened him and memories of their time in jail quickly flooded into his mind. Clenching his hands into fists, his breathing became rapid as he felt his panic rising. Closing his eyes, he concentrated on calming his breathing as he employed the guided imagery technique. Slowly the frightening pictures in his mind disappeared and he felt the tightness in his chest alleviate. He had come a long way with his therapy and he was now able to use the practice much more effectively to control his panic attacks. It was not a miracle cure and he had come to accept that it was something he would probably have to deal with for the rest of his life. Post Traumatic Stress Disorder was the medical term Doctor Farmer had used but Tom preferred to think of it as a mind echo and even during a rare, full-blown attack, he knew that eventually, the reverberating images would fade and he would once again gain control of his body and emotions. He had learned to ride out the bad attacks and control the small ones and even if he never fully recovered, he no longer felt ashamed over what he knew was not his fault. It was a symptom of his abuse, nothing more and if people could not accept him for who he was, then he no longer cared.
When the car stopped outside their destination, he opened his eyes and turned his gaze towards Booker. He frowned slightly when he saw his friend’s sympathetic expression and he immediately felt annoyed. He no longer wanted sympathy, what he wanted was acceptance and understanding. Unbuckling his seat belt, he started to open the door when he felt a strong hand grip his arm. Turning back around, he glared at Booker. “What?” he growled.
Surprised by Tom’s anger, Dennis let go of his arm. “Hey,” he soothed. “I just wanted to make sure you were all right.”
Tom let out a loud sigh and closed the door. “Sorry,” he apologized. “It’s just… I saw the look of pity on your face and it pissed me off.”
“Oh,” Dennis replied. “Well, I didn’t mean anything by it. I guess I’d just thought you’d stopped having panic attacks, especially after so much therapy.”
“Well I haven’t,” Tom snapped. “There’s no magic cure Booker, I’ve just learned how to deal with it. I am what I am and if you can’t accept that—”
“Whoa!” Dennis interrupted. “Settle down Tommy. I’m not judging you, I was just surprised, that’s all. Let’s not start arguing over a silly misunderstanding.”
Tom felt his anger dissipate and relaxing back into his seat, he managed a small smile. “Okay,” he replied. “I’m sorry I got so defensive but I get so tired of being judged for something I can’t control.”
Resting his hand on Tom’s thigh, Booker gave it a squeeze. “Then let’s forget about it and go and get a drink,” he suggested quietly.
Feeling Booker’s hand resting on his leg sent a bolt of electricity through Tom’s body and he shivered with excitement. Nodding his head, he quickly climbed out of the car so that Dennis could not see his flushed face. It still amazed him that Booker’s touch had that much of an effect on him and he knew that it would be worth the fight to keep him in his life.
Walking into the near empty bar, they each bought a pint of beer and sat down in the far corner of the room. After clinking glasses, Tom took a large swallow of the cool amber liquid before setting his glass down. Taking a deep breath, he decided to launch straight into what was on his mind. “I want to talk about what happened last night.”
Taken aback by Hanson’s direct approach, Booker spluttered into his beer. “Um, okay,” he replied uncertainly. “What exactly do you—”
“You came onto me,” Tom interjected. “I want to know if that means you still have feelings for me or if you just needed to get off.”
Again, Tom’s bluntness surprised Booker and he ran his fingers nervously through his hair. He did still have feelings for Tom but he was not sure that admitting to it would be the best approach. What he feared most was hurting Tom when he had come so far with his treatment. Their relationship was so volatile and there were so many haunting memories that they both shared and he was afraid that rather than helping Tom, being with him might actually make things worse.
However, that morning whilst he was eating breakfast, he had made the decision that at the very least, he owed it to Tom to be honest and taking another swig of beer, he let out a sigh. “I do still have feelings for you Tommy,” he confessed. “But I’m not sure if I want to be in a relationship with you.”
Hanson gave Dennis a penetrating stare from across the table. “Is that because of my panic attacks?” he asked directly. “Do you think being with me is too much hassle?”
Biting down on his lower lip, Booker shook his head. “No,” he replied quietly. “It’s because I’m terrified of being the reason you have a relapse. I’m terrified I’ll be the one to trigger a bad memory, like in the car a few minutes ago. Jesus Tommy, I’d never be able to live with myself knowing that I was the one to cause you pain.”
Resting his chin in his hands, Tom’s expression softened. “You caused me pain when you left but I dealt with it,” he answered in a quiet voice. “I don’t want you to treat me like someone with a mental illness Dennis, I want you to treat me the same way you treat everyone else and sometimes, you’re going to upset me. But it’s not the end of the world, that’s what happens in relationships… in all relationships.”
A small smile played over Dennis’ lips. “That sounds like something a psychologist might say,” he prompted.
“Well yeah,” Tom admitted as he ran his finger nervously over his upper lip. “I’ve spoken to Doctor Farmer a lot about you and me and I suppose they’re his words not mine but it’s how I feel.”
Surprised by Tom’s admission, Dennis stared deep into his friend’s brown eyes. “You talked about us?” he asked softly. “Even after I left you?”
Tom’s face flushed red and he quickly swallowed down a gulp of beer. “I needed him to help me with my fear of intimacy,” he murmured. “Because I always hoped that you and I would get back together and I want to give you…” Tears suddenly filled Tom’s eyes and he swiped them away angrily. “I wanted to be able to give myself to you completely,” he finished in a whisper.
Booker’s heart skipped a beat and it was then that he knew he had made a decision. Tom had spent the last six months getting well so that he could return and present himself as whole. Although faced with adversity, he had continued with his treatment, rather than giving in to his illness. He had proved himself a fighter and one worth fighting for and seeing him sitting across the table, Dennis knew that they belonged together… it was their destiny.
However, there were obstacles that needed addressing and there was no point leaving them unspoken. Reaching across the table, he took hold of Tom’s hand and held it tightly. “I’m willing to give it another go if you are,” he replied softly. “But I don’t want to move from Sacramento and Doctor Farmer lives in Los Angeles. How is this ever going to work?”
Squeezing Booker’s fingers, Tom gave a small, knowing smile. “I’ve already thought about that,” he admitted. “And Doctor Farmer is confident that he can find me a psychologist here in Sacramento that I’d be comfortable with.”
Dennis’ brows knitted together in a deep frown. “I don’t know Tommy,” he replied cautiously. “It took you so long to find a therapist you could trust, it seems stupid to give it all away just—”
It was Tom’s turn to frown. “Just?” he shot back angrily. “This is you and me we’re talking about! I’m prepared to make a sacrifice so we can be together Dennis, the least you could do is support me.”
“Shit!” Dennis exclaimed and yanking his hand free, he raked it through his hair. “This is exactly what I was talking about. Five minutes in and we’re already arguing! How the hell is this ever going to work?”
Folding his arms across his chest, Tom glared back sulkily. “The problem is Booker, you don’t trust me to make my own decisions. I’m not that fragile, fucked up man you left in L.A. I’m Tom fucking Hanson and I used to be a police officer who had to make all kinds of difficult and demanding decisions. So don’t fucking patronize me. If I want to find another therapist, I’ll do it with or without your approval.”
Booker’s eyes widened in surprise. Sitting before him was the Tom Hanson of old, the Tom Hanson who spoke his mind and did not allow others to tell him what to do. Sitting before him was the man he had fallen in love with. Sitting before him was his future.
Getting to his feet, Dennis walked around the table and sat down next to Tom. Reaching out, he placed the palm of his hand against Hanson’s cheek. “Wow,” he murmured as he gazed into Tom’s angry eyes. “I guess you really have changed.”
Lowering his gaze, Tom gave an embarrassed smile. “Sorry,” he apologized. “I just get so tired of being treated like a child. Please can’t you just trust my judgment? I trust Doctor Farmer and I know that he will find someone that I’ll feel comfortable talking to.”
Despite knowing that he was probably going to make matters worse, Booker could not hold his tongue. “But you didn’t feel comfortable with Doctor Pearce,” he reminded Tom quietly. “And Farmer recommended him.”
Tom let out a sigh of annoyance and lifting his head, he stared back at Booker defiantly. “I’ve already spoken to Doctor Farmer about that,” he huffed. “And he’s admitted that Pearce was the wrong doctor for me. But he knows me so much better now, he knows what I need and I trust that he’ll find me that person. For God’s sake Dennis, stop putting obstacles in the way of our relationship.”
Placing his hand behind Tom’s neck, Dennis gently pulled him forward and kissed him tenderly. It took several moments before Hanson responded by parting his lips and allowing Dennis’ tongue access. The kiss was brief, but loving and pulling apart, Booker leaned his forehead against Tom’s and sighed. “Do you really think we can do this?” he whispered.
“I do,” Tom murmured. “Please Dennis, can’t we just give it a chance?”
Pulling away, Booker stared deep into Tom’s eyes. “Okay,” he replied softly. “Let’s give it another go.”
Tom grabbed hold of Dennis and hugged him close. It was the outcome he had dreamed about but inside, he could not help but feel a twinge of guilt. There was still one final part of his exposure therapy that he needed to complete and he hoped that Dennis would be willing to come back to California with him so that they could do it together, before starting their new life in Sacramento.
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Ask Me No Questions and I'll Tell You No Lies