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Beneath a Heart of Darkness	By : OpenPage Category: 1 through F > 21 Jump Street Views: 4657 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 0
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
- 6
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I apologize for the humiliation I put Tom through, but as you know, I'm a sucker for a bit of hurt/comfort.

In peace,
OpenPage x

A dull ache in his ribs woke Tom from a restless sleep. As his mind became fully conscious, the pain steadily intensified and a low moan escaped from between his lips. His eyes fluttered open, and he stared around the room, his face a mask of confusion. For a moment, he had no memory of where he was, but everything soon became clear when his gaze settled on Booker. The dark-haired officer sat cross-legged on his bed reading a comic book, his brow creased in concentration. It was a strange sight to wake up to, and blinking drowsily, Tom rubbed a shaky hand over his mouth. “How long have I been asleep?”
Tossing his issue of The Amazing Spider-Man #300 onto the mattress, Booker smiled. “Nearly two hours. How’re you feeling?”

Tom pushed himself up to a sitting position, a faint tension shadowing his eyes. “Sore,” he admitted softly, “and I really gotta piss.”

“Do you need a hand?” Booker asked with a rush of concern, the words tumbling from his lips before he had time to consider how Tom might construe his misphrased comment.

A slow grin played over Tom’s lips, his eyes shining with amusement for a fraction of a second before once again, pain dulled the light. “Hmm, no thanks, I think I can manage.”

Booker rubbed a hand over the back of his neck, his expression apologetic. “I didn’t mean—”

“I know you didn’t,” Tom replied, a fleeting grin animating his face. “But it’s kinda nice being the one doing the teasing for a change.”

Unperturbed by the riposte, Booker replied with a soft snort. “Touché. I guess I deserved that.”

An awkward pause hung in the air until Booker spoke again, a smile crinkling the corners of his eyes. “So, let me rephrase. Do you need help getting to the bathroom?”

In only a few short minutes, the dull ache in Tom’s ribs had developed into a piercing stab and pain drilled into his side like a jackhammer. Although he did not want to display any further impuissance, he knew it would be foolish not to accept Booker’s offer of help. “Yeah,” he admitted with a heavy sigh, “I think I do.”

Pleased he was able to help, Booker climbed from his bed and stood next to Tom. “Swing your legs over the side of the bed,” he instructed. “Then I’m gonna lean down, and I want you to place your hands on my shoulders. Use me as support and I’ll lift you up. Let me know if I’m hurting you, okay?”

Tom nodded, a mixture of fear and apprehension in his eyes. He knew it was going to hurt like a bitch, but his need to urinate was becoming desperate, and if he did not get to the bathroom soon, he would end up embarrassing himself even further.

Clamping his teeth down on his lower lip, he gingerly maneuvered his legs so he was sitting on the edge of the mattress. Pain flared in his side, but his expression remained stoic, a brief narrowing of his eyes the only indication of the discomfort he was experiencing. When Booker gently leaned forward, he placed his hands on his broad shoulders and waited. Moments later, two warm hands gently grasped him under his arms.

“Ready?” Booker asked, his voice tinged with tenderness.

“Ready,” Tom replied, and with a long, drawn out groan of pain, he rose to a standing position.

An unexpected wave of dizziness immediately swamped him, distorting his vision with flashes of color. Blinded by their intensity, he teetered unsteadily on his feet, certain he was about to faint. But strong hands kept him upright, and as he started to fade, he slumped against the protective weight of Booker’s muscular frame. Seconds later, he jerked back to consciousness, but not in time to stem the warm flow of urine that trickled down his thigh, the yellowish liquid staining the front of his boxers. Shock and humiliation widened his eyes and pulling away from Booker’s hold, he stumbled backward.

“Fuck!” he cried in distress, his disbelieving gaze focusing on the yellow puddle pooling around his bare feet. “Oh, Jesus!”

Shock paralyzed Booker as he too stared down at the wet patch on the floor. But the agonized torment in Tom’s voice quickly pulled him out of his stupefied state and stepping forward, he laid a reassuring hand on the younger man’s shoulder. “Hey, it’s okay,” he reassured with a strained smile.

Mortified by what he had done, Tom’s only defense was to lash out. “DON’T FUCKING TOUCH ME!” he yelled and pushing Booker away, he staggered unsteadily on his feet as pain flared in his ribs.

Holding his hands up in front of him, Booker stepped back and gave Tom some space. “Okay, calm down,” he placated in a soothing voice.

“CALM DOWN? CALM DOWN?” Tom screamed, his pain momentarily forgotten as his humiliation slowly suffocated him. “I JUST PISSED MYSELF! HOW THE FUCK DO YOU EXPECT ME TO CALM DOWN?”

Unable to come up with an answer to Hanson’s question, Booker remained silent. Eventually, overcome by embarrassment and pain, Tom’s rage morphed into emotional anguish. A sob caught in his throat and covering his face with his hands, he began to cry. The strong astringent odor of urine permeated the small room, the smell wafting into his nostrils, solidifying his shame. Never before had he felt so humiliated, so ashamed, and he was powerless to act, as though his free will had flowed from his body along with his waste. He stood paralyzed like a small child, waiting for someone, anyone, to make it right. To say what needed to be said to take away the pain and embarrassment. To tell him it was okay and to help soothe the ache that threatened to break his heart. To make everything better, with a look or a touch. But most importantly, to wave a magic wand and make him forget the most humiliating day of his life.

Without hesitation, Booker stepped forward and gently wrapped his arms around Tom’s quivering body, pulling him protectively against his chest. Fatigue and pain had Tom desperately seeking comfort, and he did not fight against the intimacy of the embrace. Instead, he buried his face in the curve of Booker’s neck and wept openly.

Hot tears trickled down Dennis' skin before disappearing into the soft material of his tee shirt. He felt useless in the face of Tom's adversity, and all he could think to do was rub the young officer’s back and murmur pointless platitudes into his ear in the hope they were in some way, comforting. It wasn't much, but he hoped it gave Tom some measure of solace.

The gentle words coupled with the sensation of a warm hand affectionately caressing the small of his back had the desired effect and Tom's sobs soon transformed into staccato hiccups. Lifting his head, he wiped a rough hand over his tear-stained face before settling his gaze on Booker's chest. A tense silence fell over the room, underscored by the sound of his heavy, distressed breathing. He could feel the heat of Booker’s palm against the bare skin of his lower back, the gentleness of the touch radiating through his body and sending an unexpected shiver down his spine that he could not interpret. Embarrassed and confused, he stepped back, his head bowed in shame. Never before had he felt so alone.

Consumed by his misery, he only became aware Booker had walked away when the dark-haired officer reappeared with a large white towel. “Strip,” Dennis instructed softly, holding the towel out horizontally so it shielded Tom’s lower body from sight. “Then I’ll help you to the bathroom so you can take a shower.”

With his cheeks flaming a deep shade of red, Tom slowly shook his head. “I need to clean this—”

“I’ll do it,” Booker replied quietly, his dark eyes shining with compassion born of a deep understanding. “You’ll feel better once you’ve showered, and then I think we should take a trip to the hospital.”

Tom’s head jerked up, and he stared at Dennis with wide, incredulous eyes. “I don’t need to go to the hospital! It was an accident! I fainted and—”

“I know that,” Booker reassured with a kind, caring smile, “and it’s no big deal; it can happen to anyone. But you fainted for a reason, Tommy, and I think you need to get checked out by a doctor. You know, just to be safe.”

A familiar pout formed on Tom’s full lips, and his eyes blazed defiantly. “How many times do I have to say it?” he asked in a petulant tone. “I don’t need to go to the hospital, and I don’t want to go to the hospital. So drop it. Okay?”

Not wanting to upset Hanson any further, Booker sighed reluctantly. “Okay. But if you faint again…”

“I won't,” Tom replied quickly, his mouth set in a determined line. “I feel fine.”

Booker did not look convinced, but he played along with the lie, just to keep the peace. “Okay. If you say so. Now let’s get you cleaned up.”

After hesitating for a moment, Tom lowered his shorts. When they pooled around his ankles, he stepped free of the wet material and grabbing the towel from Booker’s hands, he wrapped it securely around his waist. Staring down at the floor, he exhaled a heavy breath. “I can’t let you clean that up,” he mumbled into his chest. “It wouldn’t be right.”

“Yeah?” Booker responded with a cheeky grin. “Well, tough luck. You’re not the only one who can be stubborn, Hanson. If you don’t let me help you, I’m gonna drag you to the hospital, with or without that towel. Got it?”

A small smile played over Tom’s lips. “Are you gonna be a pain in my ass the whole time we're working together?”

Normally, Booker would have blurted out a witty comeback full of sexual innuendos, but the last few hours spent with Tom had seen a marked change in his attitude. It had not been a singular light bulb moment. Instead, he had slowly come to realize that teasing Tom wasn’t the only way to achieve the contact he craved. They had a lot in common, despite their differing lifestyles and he could see himself sitting down with him, enjoying a beer and shooting the breeze. Days ago, the scenario seemed an inconceivable concept, but the more he thought about it, the more he realized it wasn’t a pipe dream. He could even picture them having serious, life oriented conversations, and the imagery lightened his heart. Even though he knew he would never have Tom in the way he so desperately desired, he could see their relationship was evolving. There was now a sliver of hope that one day, he might have the same type of friendship with him that the younger officer had with Penhall; a brotherly bond, forged by love and respect. It was a long shot, but it no longer seemed like a fairy tale, in fact, it now seemed completely attainable.

Therefore, although the sexually suggestive comment was there for the taking, he bit his tongue and instead, gave Tom an innocuous reply. “It’s what I live for.”

Unaware of Booker’s sexual thoughts, Tom’s hesitant smile turned into a grin. “I’m sure it is.”

Smiling back, Booker’s eyes motioned toward the door. “Do you need help getting to the bathroom?”

With a shake of his head, Tom moved gingerly over to his bedside table, each step jarring his damaged ribs. However, he found an inner strength and swallowing down the pain, he picked up his toiletries. “I think I can manage,” he replied determinedly and taking a small, shallow breath, he walked toward the door. But as his hand grasped the knob, he paused and without turning around, he spoke in a soft, shy voice. “Um, Dennis? Thanks for… well, you know.”

The sound of Tom speaking his name sent a shiver of desire down Booker’s spine, and his eyes sparkled with happiness. “You’re welcome, Tom.”

**

Having sourced a mop, bucket and disinfectant from a friendly janitor, Dennis set about cleaning up. Much to his surprise, it felt quite natural rinsing out Tom’s boxers in the small hand basin in their room, and he smiled knowingly to himself. Big, bad Booker’s nurturing side had fully kicked in, and he allowed his imagination to wander. Visions of Tom living in his apartment, happily sharing his life as his partner flooded his mind, and a wistful sigh escaped from between his lips. He physically ached for the reality, and he wondered if he would ever find someone to love while his obsessive infatuation with the pretty officer continued to plague his every thought.

With a shake of his head, he heaved another heavy sigh and wringing out the damp shorts, he draped them over the edge of the basin to dry. Next, he poured a capful of disinfectant into the bucket and filled it with hot water. Taking hold of the mop, he dipped it into the steaming liquid and washed over the floor. The whole cleaning process did not take long and he had enough time to return the cleaning supplies before Tom hobbled in, his freshly washed hair hanging limply in his eyes and a towel wrapped securely around his waist, protecting his modesty.

Tender concern shone from Booker’s dark eyes as his gaze roamed over the damaged flesh of Tom’s torso. “Feeling better?”

Tom’s lips formed into his signature tilting smile. “Much.” But when his gaze settled on his dripping boxers hanging over the side of the basin, his body visibly tensed. “You shouldn’t have done that.”

In an attempt to alleviate Tom’s obvious embarrassment, Booker shrugged his shoulders. “What are friends for?”

Surprise arched Tom’s eyebrows. “Friends?”

A wave of uncertainty stiffened Booker’s muscles and lowering his gaze, he shoved his hands deep into his pockets. “Sure,” he replied softly. “Why not?”

The strained silence that followed weighed heavily on Booker’s fragile pride, and he wished he had kept his mouth shut. But before he could recant his statement with a caustic comment aimed to hurt, Tom spoke, a wide grin splitting his face. “Yeah, why not. You can never have too many friends, right?”

Booker’s head snapped upright. “Really?” he responded quickly, the shrill pitch of his voice conveying the elation in his heart.

The excitement in Booker’s tone was not lost on Tom, and he immediately felt a pang of guilt. He had treated the dark-haired officer with contempt and hostility ever since their first case together, and he now regretted it. Booker was not a bad a person; he was just a little conceited at times and Tom now knew that was a flaw he could accept because it did not wholly define the officer as a person. There was much more to Dennis Booker than met the eye, and the intrigue was enough for him to want to get to know him better.

Sitting down on the bed, Tom struggled to maintain his composure as pain once again weakened his body. But he refused to allow it to show and grinning cheekily, he gave the response he knew Booker longed to hear. “Really.”

Relief relaxed the muscles in Booker’s jaw, and he smiled gratefully. He knew he needed to keep a level head and not smother Tom with affection, and therefore, he changed the conversation to their assignment. “So, do you think you’ll be all right to face the next phase of our hazing tomorrow?”

With the ache in his ribs now becoming more pronounced, Tom pulled back the duvet and slipped under the covers. Seconds later, much to Booker’s surprise and delight, he threw his towel onto the floor and snuggled beneath the warmth of the quilt. Knowing that Tom was lying naked just feet away from him sent a sexual thrill throughout Booker’s body and his cock hardened. But he knew he needed to ignore his feelings or lose Tom’s friendship and swallowing deeply, he suppressed a desirous sigh.

Innocently unaware of Booker’s lascivious reflections, Tom settled back against his pillow. “I’ll be fine,” he stated emphatically. “I just need to get some rest.”

Although not a hundred percent convinced, Booker let the matter drop. He would protect Tom in any way he could, and he hoped his presence would be enough to save the younger officer from McCarter’s brutal games. But little did he know, in less than a week, he would be the cause of all of Tom’s emotional pain and torment.
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Beneath a Heart of Darkness