"LET YOU FALL"
A Booker/Ioki chaptered fic

DISCLAIMER: I do not own anything 21 Jump Street. If I did, I wouldn't have let Jonah Hill at it, would I? :P

A/N: Okay, this thing has been stashed on my Google Docs account for quite some time now, and I thought I may as well post some of it. There's another few thousand words to it, but I haven't gone over them and made sure I want to keep them, or make the fic go in a better direction. For now, have this. There should be some more Ioki/Booker fics out there so I don't have to write some! :P
PS. Got inspiration from the theme song. I was that stumped. Honestly.

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THE "US THING"
Chapter one
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"I love you, Harry." Booker said as he brought his hands up to cup his partner's face. It had only been a week and a half, roughly, since they decided to go out, and they hadn't done anything as of yet, but he thought their relationship seemed so… well-fitting, and the scene, at this time with them lying on Harry's bed, seemed a perfect moment to say those words. When he looked into Ioki's eyes, under the lust, he could see pain, as if it was scarred in his eyes forever. It made Booker mentally (and slightly physically) flinch to think that his partner had almost lost his life on numerous occasions, and wouldn't be here right here, right now, if he hadn't survived.

Ioki's eyes closed for a moment or two, stopping Booker from reading him like a book. As if he knew what Booker was thinking when gazing into his eyes, pain flickered across his mind in moving images, almost like a film – the days in Saigon when he was Vinh, and Thai Kieu was still alive, and then that one scene on the beach, and the hours of searching for his parents on the boat. He flinched at the memory, which was still so clear in his mind. It ached to think about Thai, so much, even now after all this time. And then there was the drive-by just recently. That was a different type of pain. It hurt him most because it caused others around him pain and worry for not waking up for so long. It pained him that it hurt Booker, too, even though it was what brought them together.

He opened his eyes again. "I know you do," he replied after his mind stopped flashing his past, not sure how long he had actually been zoned out for. Ioki could tell Booker cared deeply about him – he just wished he cared the same. The slightest of a frown appeared on Booker's face. "I'm sorry." Ioki tried to say slowly, but it ended coming out in a quick heap.

Booker sighed and dropped his hands from Ioki's face, placing them on his slim waist instead. "I know you don't love me," he said so quietly that Ioki didn't hear properly, but it was predictable enough for him to refrain from asking Booker to repeat himself.

"I…" Ioki began, looking down and not knowing how to place his words properly. When he looked back up again, Booker's eyes were closed. He disliked when the other closed his eyes during moments like these, because Ioki could never tell what he was thinking. "It's just… I haven't…" he took a deep sigh. "It's tough to explain."

Booker sighed and sat up, instantly missing the closeness and warmth of Ioki's slim frame, but didn't dare to lie back down – it was some sort of ego thing he had: he didn't like softening up and showing weaknesses at times when he should be upset. "It doesn't matter," he said lightly, before standing up and pulling his jeans back over his black boxers.

"Dennis," Ioki said, sitting up and watching Booker make his way out of the bedroom, but not following. "You don't have to leave."

Booker paused at the just outside the door of the bedroom, still in Ioki's view, and sighed. He was rolling over in his head what to say, but decided to say nothing at all as he continued to walk further away from the bedroom. Soon enough, Ioki could hear the front door of his apartment open and close. He sighed and leant back on the pillows, wanting sleep.

!#$%^&*()

In the morning, it took Ioki a few crunchy bites into his first spoonful of cereal before he remembered the scene from the previous night. He groaned slightly and swallowed the mouthful, although he had not properly finished chewing. He yawned and pushed the bowl away, having suddenly lost his ravenous appetite. He was already dressed and ready, since he always dressed before breakfast – a habit he always had, just in case he was running late. He sighed again and headed over to the sink with his cereal and coffee each in one hand, tipping them both down the sink at the same time; the spoon fell with a clunk, and for once, he couldn't be bothered putting his dishes in the dishwasher before grabbing his leather jacket and leaving for work.

As soon as he arrived, Penhall was in his face and asking if he could do anything to help. Ioki, annoyed as he was, politely declined multiple times. "It's okay, Doug, I can manage myself."

"You sure?" Penhall asked skeptically. "If you need anything, man, my desk is right over th–"

"Penhall," he interrupted sharply, "I'm fine."

"Yeah, yeah. I'm sure you are." He gave Ioki a weak smile, patted him on the shoulder, and walked off in the other direction.

Ioki took a deep breath and looked around; it felt weird not seeing Booker around the chapel anymore – after a while, he became a part of the place, just like Hanson had; as annoying or arrogant as he might've been, he was still a part of the team. Ioki sighed and turned around, taking a seat at his desk. He uselessly fumbled with some papers that were on the desk, at loss for what to do for the day. He couldn't think straight. Sleep sounded good right now, but the day had only just started, and he was at work. He sighed for what seemed to be the millionth time that morning. All the chatter around him between the numerous employees of the small department seemed to die out, though only to him.

"What's up, Ioke?" said a voice beside him, and he instantly snapped out of his zoned out state, the noisy chatter of everyone returning to his ears, and turned his head slightly to see Hanson standing there, looking quite awkward.

"Nothing," he said automatically, that being his response to that one question almost all the time, unless something really exciting was going on. He gave Hanson a weak smile. "How's work been?"

Hanson smiled slightly and said, "I only just started again the other day. On a case about these college gamblers."

"Oh, sounds troublesome," Ioki said quietly, not really taking much notice to what Hanson was saying. "Good luck with that."

"Thanks." Hanson smiled. "You doin' okay, man?"

Ioki's eyes snapped up quickly. "Yeah, yeah, I'm fine."

"If you need any hel–"

"Yeah, I know," Ioki interrupted. "Penhall's desk is right over there."

Hanson let out a small laugh. "Yeah, that's it."

Ioki couldn't help but smile, too. They stood there silently for a few moments, just smiling, until Fuller's booming voice angrily called Hanson's name. Ioki gave Hanson a sympathetic smile as he left.

Ioki was left to ponder his emotions and mind once again, boringly staring at the papers on his desk, and zoning out from the chatter. He couldn't stop thinking, and it wasn't just about the scene from last night. Just being here, everyone asking if he was alright, reminded him of the drive-by, and the drive-by reminded him so much of Saigon, and Thai, and his parents… the beach… He didn't like those memories much – they didn't blur with time like he hoped they would; they just stuck there.

"You ain't fooling me, Harry," Hoffs said as she came to sit on his desk. "There's more to it than you're letting them know." She tapped his head slightly, giving him a weak smile as he looked up.

"Nothing's wrong, Jude." Ioki said, smiling back at her. Him and Hoffs had always had a close relationship, sort of like a good pair of siblings. "I'm fine."

She frowned slightly. "If you're not ready for work yet, Harry, don't push yourself into it. Take a few more days off… Pushing yourself into this job won't make it what you want it to be, or what it used to be. You have to give it time. You just woke up from a–"

"A coma, I know. I was there, Jude, in case you forgot." He said moodily. He was sick of people fussing over him.

"In case you didn't realise, Ioki, but I was there when it happened, too!" she hissed back as quietly as she could, though that didn't stop the moodiness of her voice. "If you're not ready for your job, go home."

Ioki stood up quickly, his chair toppling over. "I don't have to do what you, or anyone else, says! You got that, Jude?" he said this loudly, causing nearly all the heads in the Chapel to stop and gape at him. Blowfish, who was changing a light bulb, turned on his ladder; Penhall had dropped some of his papers, causing them to spread all over the floor as he quietly swore to himself; Hanson, who was just coming out of Fuller's office, turned with wide eyes; many random workers had also turned, goggling at him.

But then there was someone at the entrance of the Chapel, looking the most shocked of them all. He was clad in blue jeans which were tight around that certain area (that being the fashion, of course), a plain white shirt, and his orthodox leather jacket.

Once Ioki's eyes had found Booker, he couldn't adjust his gaze to anything or anyone else, as if they were glued there. Soon, following Ioki's gaze, other's turned their heads to Booker.

"Hey," Booker said once he realised almost everyone in the Chapel was staring at him; his tone was normal, as if nothing had happened, though his eyes were still locked with Ioki's. "Just wanted to come by and check to see how everyone was going." With that, most people went back to work, doing whatever: Penhall bent over to collect his dropped papers, and Hanson walked over to help him; Blowfish went back to that very troublesome light bulb; Hoffs stood from the desk, shooting a glare at Ioki (though it went unnoticed), and making her way to Fuller's office; and many others went back to whatever they did around this place.

Booker was forced to break the gaze with Ioki when Penhall had made his way over to greet him, Hanson on his tail. Ioki took this quick chance, as Booker followed Penhall and Hanson to Fuller's office, to leave the chapel to get some fresh air.

!#$%^&*()

Booker stood silently behind Ioki, who was sitting on a step and lightly banging his head on the brick wall that his side was leaning against. He didn't want to make his presence known just yet – he wanted to help Ioki, but he wasn't sure how he could. He had just come from Fuller's office, where Hoffs was yelling at the Captain to do something about Ioki, but Booker had assured them that he'd talk to the man in their behalf; it seemed like an absurd idea to the rest of the people in the office at the time – "Why Booker?" – because they did not know about Booker and Ioki's relationship as of yet.

Booker didn't appear as the nicest of people at times – rebellious, moody, arrogant, and stubborn were only a few of the words that people would use to describe Booker most of the time – but really, he was soft inside, even if it was deep, deep down. He was selfish, he'd admit that. Most of the time he did things to benefit himself, but now that he wasn't a cop anymore, he didn't see the point. He used to look at it as being an extra thing to make him look good, maybe get a promotion, instead of maybe saving someone's life by stopping a criminal. Now he realised that everyone else mattered, too, not just Dennis Booker. He decided to clear his throat, and Ioki sighed.

"I knew you were there."

Booker frowned. "You did?"

He saw Ioki's head bob slightly downwards and up again in a nod. "You don't exactly breathe the quietest when you're annoyed or pissed off."

Booker made his way to sit next to the other on the step, lazily leaning his arms on his legs and sighing. "Harry…" he said quietly, not sure what else to say. More time passed – not awkwardly, just silently – as Booker looked at the steps in front of him and pondered what he would say to comfort the man beside him. He was never good with other people, unless it was with things like punching them out or insulting them. His breathing became slower and less forced as he relaxed more, and that actually made a great deal of difference to the noise of the scene – all that could be heard was distant voices from the Chapel, and some horns and a few sirens from the streets that were a bit further away.

"It's not your fault." It was Ioki who broke the silence. "That… that I'm having a bad day, I mean. It's not your fault."

Booker let out a sigh of relief. "Well, that's good to hear."

Ioki nodded slightly. "Yeah. I mean… if it were over what happened last night, you would have more right to be having a bad day than I would."

Booker nodded. "Sorry about last night, man."

"Dennis," Ioki said and stood up, shaking his head. "I can't do this. I thought I could, but I couldn't."

Booker stood up, also. "Do what?" his tone was a bit more angry – worried, even – than it was before.

Ioki's kept his eyes focused on the ground. Booker knew what Ioki meant, he just wanted it confirmed; there was a small hope in Booker's stomach, though, that Ioki wasn't going to say what he predicted he would. Maybe it would be about his job, Booker said to himself in his mind, selfishly wishing that that would be what Ioki was talking about.

"This whole us thing, Booker." Ioki sighed, and brought his gaze up to look at Booker, who was looking at him intently. "Good luck finding a job."

With that, Ioki turned back towards the Chapel, and Booker pulled at the sleeves of his leather jacket, and headed for his car.

A/N: If you managed to read that, thanks. Drop a review? Please? I'll get more done eventually, but not if I think no one wants it, haha. I don't know how big the 21 Jump Street fandom is on here, so, uh, yeah. Bye!

– Veronica