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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
- 8
- 9
- 10
This is not exactly how I expected this chapter to go. However, the boys spoke rather assertively in my ear, telling me what to write and so I abandoned my original plan and went with theirs. After all, it is their story ;)
In Peace,
OpenPage x

Back in the privacy of their dorm room, Booker could no longer contain his anger, and his voice exploded, cutting through the silence in the room. “Damn it, Hanson! What the FUCK were you thinking? You could have blown our cover! How the HELL does hitting McCarter help us with our case? He gave you a pass ‘cause of your injuries and now he’s probably as suspicious as hell, and we have NOTHING!”
Angry with himself for losing his temper, Tom took his frustration out on Booker. “I DON’T KNOW WHY I DID IT!” he yelled back, his hands gesturing wildly in front of him. “HE PISSED ME OFF, OKAY? I’M TIRED OF HIM PICKING ON HAROLD, I’M TIRED OF BEING IN PAIN AND I’M FUCKING TIRED OF YOU AND YOUR SICK OBSESSION WITH ME!”
The cruel words cut through Booker’s heart as effectively as a knife, but his pain quickly transformed into a blinding anger and raising his hand, he struck Tom across the face with a resounding slap.
Stunned by the assault, Tom stood with his mouth gaping open, the stinging burn radiating down his cheek reflected in the look of hurt in his eyes. When Booker took a step toward him, he anticipated a second attack, and he staggered backward, his fists raised in readiness. But he misjudged his retreat and the backs of his legs collided with his bed, sending him toppling onto the mattress. Pain flared in his side, but he ignored it and clutching his ribs, he scrambled off the bed and confronted Booker, his face a mask of fury. “What the fuck is your problem?”
“My problem?” Booker spat back, his dark eyes flashing indignantly. “You’re the one with the problem.”
Silence once again reigned supreme; even the house sparrows nesting in the tree outside the window appeared to pick up on the tension in the room, and their voices fell silent. Dust motes glittered in the bars of light shining through the blinds, adding to the heaviness in the air as both men continued to glare at each other, their chests heaving with anger. With testosterone and arrogance fueling a childish desire to prove who was right, neither man wanted to be the first to back down, and so their standoff continued for several long minutes.
Eventually, weariness and disillusionment took their toll on Booker and turning away, he picked up his holdall. Pushing past Tom, he started grabbing up armfuls of clothing that lay littered around the room, and without bothering to check if the clothes were his or Tom’s, he carelessly shoved them into the bag. His furious actions were a testament to his bad mood, and most of the clothing ended up screwed into a ball. But his need to escape began to overwhelm him, and his immediate focus was to put some distance between himself and Tom so he could get his head straightened out. Being in such close quarters with the man he loved was proving to be a challenge, and he was seriously considering asking Fuller for a transfer. He had thought he was making inroads in his relationship with Tom, but he now realized he was wrong. When they were together, his feelings for the young officer would always be the elephant in the room, and he was not sure if he could continue to subject himself to the humiliation of rejection. He was tired of it, and although his feelings remained strong, he was growing tired of Tom and his unpredictable mood swings.
Puzzled by the flurry of activity, Tom finally found his voice. “What are you doing?”
“What do you think I’m doing?” Booker muttered without looking up. “I’m leaving.”
“Leaving?” Tom parroted, his eyebrows drawing into a frown. “Why?”
Spinning around, Booker angrily threw his bag to the floor. “Why the fuck do you think?” he spat. “I can’t do this with you anymore.”
Tom’s stared back in confusion. “Do what? Dennis, I don’t under—”
“THIS!” Booker yelled, his hands waving madly above his head. “JESUS FUCKING CHRIST, HANSON, HOW FUCKING STUPID ARE YOU?”
Tom’s expression immediately soured. “Pretty fucking stupid, obviously,” he replied through gritted teeth. “So why don’t you spell it out so an idiot like me can understand.”
Hurt suddenly replaced the hostility in Booker’s eyes, and his shoulders visibly sagged. “You call it a sick obsession,” he muttered, a hint of sadness echoing in his voice. “But it’s not. I can’t help the way I feel about you, Tommy… I’m in love with you.”
The heartfelt statement touched Tom more than he would have ever thought possible, and his anger instantly melted away. He knew he should respond, but he did not know what to say without sounding patronizing, and so he foolishly remained silent, his thumb rubbing nervously at the corner of his jaw.
Embarrassed by Tom’s lack of reaction to his declaration, Booker exhaled a heavy sigh, and bending down, he picked up his bag. “I’ll ring Fuller, tell him I fucked up and they kicked me out and that way, you can continue with the assignment. Then I’ll ask for a transfer to another department.”
Shocked by Dennis’ plan, Tom stepped forward and grabbed him by the arm. “That’s not what I want,” he confessed in a rush of words, concern shining brightly in his dark eyes.
The warmth of Tom's touch penetrated through Booker’s flesh, sparking a fire in his soul and igniting the torch within. His heart fluttered against his chest, sending ripples of desire down the length of his spine. Every fiber of his being told him he should keep his mouth shut, exit the room and never see Tom again. But he had always been a rebel, and he rarely listened to his inner voice of reason. Therefore, he took the plunge into unknown waters and gazing deep into Tom’s eyes, he spoke in a soft, breathless voice. “What do you want?”
For a fraction of a moment, the room appeared to disappear and all Tom could see was the depth of longing shining from Booker’s eyes. He licked his lips nervously, his emotions spiraling toward an unknown abyss. Kaleidoscopic patterns flickered before his eyes, the intensity of color temporarily blinding him. His breathing became shallow, and a hot flash of nausea engulfed him, churning his stomach. Perspiration prickled his top lip, but his skin felt cold and swaying unsteadily on his feet, he staggered backward. For the second time in less than twenty-four hours, he felt like he was going to faint, and he fought to remain upright as an inky blackness threatened to consume him.
“Tom?”
The sound of his name pulled Tom back to reality, and focusing his eyes, he saw Booker staring at him, the young officer’s face strained with worry. He swallowed several times in quick succession, the action working some much-needed saliva into his dry mouth. “Sorry,” he mumbled, his tongue feeling thick and heavy. “I don’t know what just happened.”
A knowing look passed over Booker’s face. “I think you just had a panic attack.”
“Huh?” Tom muttered, the buzzing in his head making it difficult for him to concentrate.
Taking hold of Tom’s upper arm, Booker led him over to the bed. “Sit,” he instructed softly.
Grateful for the chance to take his weight off his trembling legs, Tom dropped to the mattress. Leaning forward, he rested his elbows on his knees and buried his face in his hands. “Shit,” he mumbled against his clammy palms.
Booker hesitated for a moment before sitting down and resting a light hand on Tom’s shoulder. “Tommy, um, do you… I mean… I don’t s’pose you’re starting to feel differently about me, are you?”
Tom’s body stiffened and lowering his hands, he turned his head and peered up at Booker through his unruly bangs. “What are you talking about?”
Chewing anxiously on his lower lip, Booker tried to keep his voice level, but on the inside, he was a jumble of nerves. “I dunno, it’s just… when I asked you what you wanted, there was this flash of longing in your eyes and… well, maybe I misread it, but it kinda looked like you—”
“Looked like I what?” Tom interrupted softly, his heart thudding rapidly in his chest. Although he was scared to hear the answer, he felt an almost desperate need to understand what telltale emotion had risen from his soul and shimmered in his eyes.
Lowering his head, Booker fidgeted uncomfortably before crossing his arms across his chest, the gesture creating an unconscious barrier, protecting him from the rejection he felt certain he was about to suffer. “Like you had feelings for me,” he mumbled into his chest.
And there it was… the elephant in the room had lifted its trunk, trumpeted out the truth and stampeded across the floor, knocking the wind from Tom’s lungs. The young officer sat with his mouth gaping open, not because he found the statement incredulous, but because he knew, in part, that it was true. His feelings for Booker had changed, but he was not exactly sure what that meant. The weird, topsy-turvy sensation in his stomach when Dennis touched him was a new experience. He had never even felt the same level of intensity from a woman’s gentle caress, and although the encounters were somewhat disconcerting, they were also strangely comforting.
As Booker continued to stare at the floor, Tom struggled to articulate what he felt inside. “You’re right, my feelings for you have changed,” he admitted softly, his gaze focusing on the same spot on the worn linoleum as Dennis’ morose stare. “The problem is, I don't know what that means.”
The quiet confession raised goosebumps on Booker’s arms, and lifting his gaze, he focused on Tom’s profile. “Do you want me to leave?”
Without hesitation, Tom shook his head, although his eyes remained firmly fixed on the floor. “No.”
Feeling bold, Booker reached out a hand and gently touched the red mark on Tom's cheek. “Sorry,” he murmured, the regret in his heart weighing heavy in his voice. “That was a shitty thing to do.”
Turning his head, Tom shrugged his shoulders and offered a small but genuine smile. “I deserved it. But I didn’t mean what I said. I guess I’m just feeling a little vulnerable at the moment.”
“That’s understandable,” Booker responded graciously, “but I’ve got your back, you know that, right?”
With a heavy sigh, Tom nodded. “Yeah, I know… and thanks.”
Not wanting to ruin the moment by saying the wrong thing, Booker stood up. “I’m gonna go for a walk.”
Surprised that Booker would find walking therapeutic exercise, Tom only just managed to bite back a blunt repartee about muscle-bound gym junkies. Instead, he lay down on his bed and picked up the crime novel he’d been reading. “Okay.”
Disappointed Tom had not offered to join him, Booker grabbed his jacket and walked out the room.
**
When Booker returned two hours later, he found Tom fast asleep, his book still clutched in his right hand. Silently closing the door, he moved stealthily across the room and sat down on the edge of his own bed. His eyes traveled up the length of Tom’s body before resting on his tranquil face. Even in sleep, Tom had the penchant to pout, and the perfect pink bow of his lips drew Booker in, tempting him with their fullness. Unashamed, his gaze slowly traveled upward. A curtain of hair veiled Tom’s left eye, but his right remained visible, and Booker marveled at the full, thick lashes caressing the young officer’s cheek. A serene aura radiated from within, relaxing Tom’s features in slumber and creating an almost boyish appearance. It was an expression of innocence he often lacked during his waking hours and Booker stared in wonderment at his vulnerability. Tom could be very intense, especially at work, and because he had never had the chance to socialize with him out of hours, Booker was not acquainted with the younger man’s more playful side. But now, as his eyes greedily fed on the intoxicating beauty of Hanson’s features, he stored each tantalizing vision in his mind for future reference. Nothing heightened his sexual arousal more than fantasizing about Tom when he was teasing his early morning erection to life. A little voice inside his head whispered that he was a pervert, but a louder voice always chimed in telling him it was all just innocent fun, and everybody did it. However, despite the reassurance, he could not help but feel a certain amount of guilt, and he wondered what Tom would think if he ever found out. But he also felt a certain amount of hope after Tom’s rather cryptic confession. Maybe the young officer was having a change of heart and maybe, just maybe, he might know what it was like to have Tom Hanson in his life.
A heavy sigh expelled from between his lips and falling back onto the mattress, he stared up at the ceiling with blank, expressionless eyes. His mind played over Tom’s non-committal statement, “The problem is, I don't know what that means,” and his heart pitter-pattered with longing. He had no idea what the words meant, but what he did know was he wanted more from Tom than just friendship, and he would not be satisfied until he had achieved his ultimate dream.
- 8
- 9
- 10
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Beneath a Heart of Darkness