First part of this is kind of a transcript of the ending of Fun With Animals, then goes into the story in regular writing format...
There is slash, and slight, minor referenes to rape... might be more undestandable once the story nears the end :D
I own nothing
Booker: You like being a cop?
Tom: I used to.
Booker: Before I stepped in your life - (a slight laugh, a possible smile)
Brief pause
Tom: Mmhm...
Booker: You hear Internal Affairs let me out to Jump Street?
Tom: I heard - (sounds slightly annoyed)
Booker: I guess it's 'cause I got a young face.
Tom: Yeah. (slightly sarcastic)
Booker: I know Fuller said he's gonna try not to partner us up again but uh, I think we did a great job and I'm gonna ask him to put us on another case together.
Pause, music playing
Tom: I wouldn't.
(Laughing) Booker: Just kidding Hamburger. (pause) You know it's no bed of roses working with you? (thanks to Hanson's Hot for helpin' me figure out what Booker say here XD)
Tom: Thanks.
Pause; a small, barely audible sniff - a possible sigh
Tom: Why'd you bring me here?
Booker: I like givin' you a jolt; another drink?
Tom: Who's driving?
Booker: We'll take a cab.
Pause; more music - they watch strippers dance
Tom: I got a question for you, Booker.
Booker: Fire away, chief.
Tom: Do you act like a creep 'cause you really are a creep or it's just fun to act like one?
Booker: Let me answer that with a great joke I know; a Polac, a Jew, and a Puerto Rican are on a cruise ship. The ship hits an iceberg and it's goin' down and there's only one space left on the lifeboat...
\-/-\-/-\-/-\-/-\-/
When Tom awoke his head hurt – really, really bad. Okay, so he had obviously had a lot to drink the previous night; now if only he could remember anything that had happened after getting drunk. He racked hi brain but all that was there were fuzzy memories of yesterday's case; Booker, him accusing Booker of rape... He had been with Booker.
Oh god, he had been with Booker.
Tom groaned and decided to take his chances; he opened his eyes slowly, blinking away the unwanted remnants of sleep, and looked around. And Jesus Christ he nearly had a heart attack. He knew where he was; he had been here a few days ago, and that time he had not been invited. Tom guessed differently about this situation, considering he had just woken up in Dennis Booker's bed.
Oh crap, he was screwed. He was sure of it.
"Yo Tommy!" a voice called, "You up!"
Tom moaned at the familiar voice; Booker was here and he was clearly aware of Tom's presence in his apartment. In his bedroom; in his bed. Yup, Tom was definitely screwed. "Yeah," he called back, sitting up and-
"Oh god no," Tom mumbled silently once he realized he was naked; he was in Dennis Booker's bed, with a hangover, and he was only wearing boxers. He was practically naked. He was more than screwed. Tom groaned at the plausible double meaning and stood slowly, bringing the bed sheet with him. He didn't care if he had done anything with Booker, the other man was not going to see him naked. Well, nearly naked. It didn't matter, though; Booker was not going to see one part of Tom that he shouldn't see. So Tom wrapped the thin sheet around his waist, and shivering at a sudden coldness, he headed out of the bedroom.
"Hey," came Booker's too cheery greeting as soon as Tom entered the living room. He was sitting on the couch, eating cereal, and watching-
No Tom thought. No way what he saw was actually true. Dennis Booker was watching Scooby-Doo? That just seemed so, so... Wrong.
"Scooby-Doo?" Tom questioned, annoyed at Dennis' casual attitude.
"Yes. You gotta problem with that?"
"No it's just - You're watchin' Scooby-Doo."
"So?" Dennis questioned. "I like Scooby-Doo. Besides, Daphne's kinda hot." A smirk formed on Booker's lips as he stared at Tom, observing the smooth chest, "Although you're a pretty damn good replacement."
Tom glared hard at Booker. "Fuck you," he hissed. "Where are my clothes?"
"What? I didn't make you do anythin'!" Booker called out as Tom made his way back towards the bedroom.
"Hanson!" he called, standing and quickly following the younger man. "C'mon man, I'm sorry. But it was as much your idea as it was mine."
Tom stood in the middle of the room, looking around for any article of clothing he could. He did not like the way Dennis had been looking at him earlier.
"Damn it Hanson, just listen to me!" Booker yelled, irritated.
Tom turned heatedly, glaring angrily at the other man. "Yeah I heard you," he hissed. "I heard you say that while I was drunk I decided to have sex with you!"
Dennis stepped back, contemplating Tom's words. "I..."
"You nothing!" Hanson yelled. "Damn it, I was drunk, you basically took advantage of that!"
"No way man, I didn't..." Dennis stopped; he didn't want to use the term rape. Tom had agreed and had been willing hadn't he? He had also been drunk. Very drunk.
Booker pushed the thoughts out of his mind angrily. "Damn it Hanson, you were as willing as I was!"
"Who started it?" Tom asked angrily, stepping closer to Dennis. "Who made the first move, who decided we should come back here?" Tom's head pounded worse at each angered outburst but he ignored it; he wanted to know the truth. No, he needed to know the truth. But then, he couldn't remember because he had been drunk. That meant Booker shouldn't remember; unless he hadn't been as drunk, which meant he had had a better advantage against Tom.
Booker stood stock-still, frozen. Tom didn't remember, yet he did; that meant Tom had been more drunk than he had and this just wasn't looking good on Dennis' part.
"I did," Booker admitted. "I mighta kissed you."
"You might have?" Tom asked in a high-pitched tone, laughing. "Yeah, that's real good Book; you might have kissed me."
"Alright, I did, after the joke. You were just starin' at me, okay? I mean, you had had like, five beers, and I knew shouldn't have, but," Dennis stopped, staring into the curious gaze of Tom's brown eyes. "I just did it; I leaned close and kissed you."
Tom laughed, "Yeah? Did I kiss back?"
"Not at first; you tried pushin' me away and," Dennis stopped, unsure of why he was telling Tom all of this; because all of what he was saying made it look like he had taken advantage of the other man. But he hadn't, had he? "I just grabbed your arms and pushed you into the bar," Dennis concluded with a sigh.
"You-you forced me...?" Tom asked, now fully aware that he was alone with Dennis. He was going to be sick.
"I'm sorry Tommy, I never meant to. I just, I didn't wanna stop. And when I pulled away, you looked scared. But I guess, I guess I didn't really care, okay?"
"But it's not," Tom whispered. "Damn it, did I actually say I wanted to have sex with you?"
Booker looked down, refusing to answer.
"Oh god," Tom moaned. This wasn't happening; no way could this be happening.
"I'm sorry," Dennis admitted, unsure of why; why did he care? So what if he had sex with Tom. Except now that he thought about, maybe he had taken advantage of the other man. And that was bad, really, really bad.
"Sorry?" Tom repeated. "You-you-"
"I what? Raped you?" Dennis finished, "Yeah okay, maybe," he admitted, "But I thought you wanted it." Great save there, that will really make all of this seem okay.
"What made you think that?" Tom asked, scared and angered at the same time. "When I tried pushing you away?" His tone was again filled with anger, laced together with cruel hatred. Because right now he hated Dennis Booker.
"That-that was just the kiss," Booker replied, moving over and sitting down on the bed. "Damn it Tom, after that, we just sat there. Then you ordered another beer, and I tried to tell you no. And I don't know, you got mad at that," Dennis stated, staring up at Tom; staring up at the smooth chest, the sheet that hung low, so low that Booker could see-
"Stop it," Tom hissed. "Where the Hell are my clothes?"
Dennis directed his gaze into Tom's own, and shrugged. "I don't know."
"Damn it," Tom hissed; he felt very exposed, and was starting to grow uneasy at the way Dennis would look at him.
"Check the dresser, you can take somethin' of mine," Dennis offered wearily.
Tom nodded, and headed to the dresser, pulling open the top drawer; white t-shirts. Big choice there. Tom pulled one out and quickly pulled it over his head, glad to finally have something to cover up with.
"I got jeans in the third drawer-boxers in the last, if you need 'em."
Tom sighed; he didn't really want to wear any of Dennis' clothes, but it was that or stand around while the other man stared at him lustfully. He really didn't want the latter, so the former seemed the best choice. He pulled open the third drawer now, and found three pairs of blue jeans, all worn, faded, and torn somewhere. He felt like he was preparing himself to be Tommy McQuaid. Lastly, he pulled out a pair of black boxers, then he headed towards the door.
"It's okay, Ill leave," Dennis spoke up, standing and stretching; the bed squeaked at the sudden lift of weight, and Dennis laughed. "Bed's getting' kinda old-I'm surprised it's lasted this long." And with a smirk in Tom's direction, he was gone. The bedroom shut behind him and Tom sighed. All he wanted was to get dressed and leave, but Dennis still hadn't told him everything. And he planned on staying until he had been told the entire truth.
TBC...