Warning: Slash (homosexual content), rape, depression, suicidal thoughts, child abuse, domestic violence – and whatever other angst I can manage to work in. If you don't like this, don't read it, for flames only serve as a source of amusement for me.

Rating: T

Disclaimer: As much as I would kill to own Tom Hanson and Dennis Booker, I don't. And I don't own the rest of Jump Street, either. Too bad for me.

Chloe - Thanks! Always glad to have another reader :-D Characterization is a huge thing for me, and I have a friend who's reading this on my site and I'm constantly bugging her for help. As for Hanson angst, oh, there'll be some. There'll just be a lot of angst in general. :-P AndI'll see about the tears.

Rosepetal - Sure, feel free to kill her afterward - if, say, Dennis doesn't get to her first ;)

daizia - I like making people laugh :-P I'm glad to know you've got that much of a feel for my style by now :-D And I'm glad you like how I show the lover boys ;) Yes, the Dennis - Greene situation should be interesting, and I'm hoping that what happens with Hanson and Joanne will surprise you all. Soo... Mixed signals? How so? Yes, Doug's concern is valid, and Dennis, you'll see (eventually) doesn't deny that; what's bothering him about Penhall's handling of the situation has another point entirely. As for dinner, well... you'll see >devil>

Just a fan - >blushes> Thanks! I like it too. I keep going back and rereading it as I'm writing ;) Hope you like how the dinner goes, and as for the K,I,S,S,I,N,G... well, that might wait a bit... >hides>

Nina - You might have, a time or two :-) Regarding Dennis and his mom, well, you're going to find out soon enough ;) Regarding the prequel, those are both good points I'll have to keep in mind. Does it make sense to you, the idea of Booker being more experienced? And feel free to give me suggestions; I love getting ideas for stuff to add into my fics.

Chapter 10

Tom pulled his Mustang to a stop in front of Joyce's house and, as he turned off the car and pulled the key out of the ignition, he looked over at Dennis. "You ready?"

Even as the other man opened the door and climbed out he replied simply, "No."

They stood on the sidewalk for a few minutes, and twice Booker turned around and looked back toward the car, as if he was contemplating just heading back home, and both times Hanson took his hand and moved to stand in front of him, turning him slightly to face the house once more. The second time, after casting a quick glance around to make sure no one was watching, he leaned up and gave him a quick kiss. "I love you; it'll be all right."

"No it won't."

"Yes it will."

"How did you tell your mom?"

"We've had this conversation before, and you're stalling."

"I know, and yes, I am. But humor me."

"I just told her. We ate dinner, then went to the living room and had coffee. She asked me if I was dating anyone, and I said yes. She asked her name, and I said, 'Mark.' She figured it out pretty quickly."

"Tell me again how she reacted."

Tom shook his head, but acquiesced. It wasn't that he couldn't understand his boyfriend's anxiety; it was just that he was starting to drive him crazy. "She was quiet for a long time. Then she got up and left the room. About ten minutes later she came back, and she told me she thought I should leave. She said she wasn't angry, just kind of shocked, and needed some time to think. Then she said she'd call me, and she did, the next day." He moved to take his lover's hand. "Dennis, your mom will understand. Maybe tonight, maybe not. But she will, eventually. So don't make yourself crazy over this, or you're just going to make it harder than it has to be."

"I…" Dennis sighed. "You're right."

"Yes, I am. I'm glad you've realized that."

"You're gonna get it."

"Do whatever you want to me, as long as you let me get my revenge on Hoffs and Ioki first."

"Deal."

As they walked up to the house, they kept enough distance between them as to seem like friends – but nothing more. Right as Dennis knocked, Tom gave his hand a gentle squeeze, releasing it when Joyce opened the door. "Hey, mom." Hanson hung back as Booker gave her a slightly awkward hug, then turned to face him. "Mom, you know Tom, right?"

"Officer Hanson, correct?" When Tom nodded, she held out a hand and he shook it, forcing a smile in spite of the very surprised expression on her face. She must have picked up on his discomfort because, as they stepped inside, she turned to him and said, "I'm sorry; from the way Dennis sounded on the phone I expected someone a bit, ah," she broke off, and Tom grinned.

"A little more female?" This was going to be interesting.

She hesitated, then sighed, offering him a sheepish smile that reminded him of his boyfriend. "Well, yes. I'm sorry; I shouldn't have jumped to conclusions."

"Nah, it's my fault, mom." Tom waited until Dennis shrugged out of his coat, then did the same. "You cooked, didn't you?" There was amused disapproval in his voice.

"Of course I did."

"You didn't have to."

She frowned at him and shook her head. "Dennis, you've eaten here once in the last year; I wanted to. Now come on, dinner should be just about done. I made your favorite."

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"That was great." Booker pushed aside his plate and slid his chair back from the table.

"Maybe I'll get you over here more often then," she replied with a smile. "Coffee? And I have some cookies. They're from the store; I didn't have time to bake."

Dennis groaned. "Mom, I'm not going to be able to eat for a week as it is. Coffee sounds good, though." He rose slowly and picked up his dish, then Hanson's, only to have her take them out of his hands as she turned to his boyfriend.

"Would you like some, Tom?"

"Uh, yes, thanks."

"Why don't you two go into the living room, and I'll be in, in just a second."

Coffee. Living room. As they went to sit down on the couch, Dennis leaned over toward Tom. He brushed his lips against his lover's cheek and asked, "Tell me again how things went with your mom?"

"Shut up."

He straightened up when his mother came in, tray in hand with coffee cups and the cookies he doubted any of them would touch. Even if he had an appetite left, it'd be long gone after this conversation. She set everything down, then placed mugs in front of each of them, then took her own and sat down in a recliner. "So, Dennis, what did you want to talk about?"

His fingers tightened around the cup in his hand and he took a long drink, ignoring the fact that it was still too hot for that to really be a good idea; the pain was worth it for the few seconds it bought him. "Mom, I, uh, what you thought—"

She smiled and he closed his eyes, knowing she was missing the point and not entirely caring. "I didn't mean to make you feel uncomfortable, Dennis. You're only twenty-two, after all; I'm certainly not trying to push you."

"No, mom, it's fine. It's just… you weren't… you weren't really wrong."

His mother blinked and he his breath came in short, rapid bursts. He wasn't ready for this; he just wasn't and from the feel of Tom's hand on his arm, he knew that his boyfriend could tell.

"Dennis?" He could see in her eyes that it was starting to sink in.

"I… Tom came with me because…" he looked down, taking another breath, and covered Hanson's hand with his own. "Because he's… we… I love him."

That wasn't the way he'd intended it to come out, but a glance at Tom told him his lover wasn't exactly disappointed by his choice of words.

His mother, on the other hand… "Dennis, are you saying that you – and Tom – are… together? A… a couple?"

"Yeah. That's… that's what I'm saying." He shifted, clasping hands with his boyfriend. "I'm gay, mom."

It was several minutes before anyone spoke again, and Booker wasn't quite sure what to make of his mother's words. "Dennis, I don't really know what to say to you. I hadn't… I certainly hadn't expected this, though I suppose I ought to have, especially you showing up here with… with Tom like this."

"Mom—"

"Let me finish." She held up a hand, keeping the other in her lap. "I'm disappointed, Dennis; I won't pretend that I'm not. I – your father and I—"

"Don't talk about dad."

She frowned at him. "I know how you feel, but he's still your father."

"I haven't seen him for nine years, mom; I don't care what he would think. You want to tell me you're disappointed, tell me. But don't bring him into this."

"Maybe we should go," Tom said quietly.

Dennis stood at his words, thankful for the interruption and the chance to regain control of his emotions. "Maybe we should." But before Hanson could even get to his feet, his mother had risen as well.

"No; you don't need to go. Just, Dennis, I wasn't expecting this; you need to give me time, a chance to understand."

"Then I'll give you time." He swallowed hard. "Dinner was great, mom." He sidestepped around her, heading for the door, and as he pulled his coat off the hook, he heard Tom murmur an apology for the situation before following suit.

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"That went well," Dennis muttered sarcastically, slamming his apartment door open and jerking his coat off. He threw it with a little too much force into the couch, then stalked toward the kitchen. Tom heard glass crack against the counter and sighed. He shrugged out of his own jacket and hung it up, pausing to pick up Booker's as well, then followed him. He turned the corner in time to see him down a shot and return for another. Taking a couple quick steps forward, he covered the mouth of the glass with his hand.

"Don't."

"Shove off, Hanson."

"Can it, Booker. Look, I know you're upset, but getting trashed right now isn't going to do a damned thing." He slowly pulled the glass away, then reached for the bottle as Dennis raised it to his lips. "Stop."

"Tom—"

"Hey, at least your mother didn't throw us out like mine did. She called me by my name, which is a plus – my mother wouldn't even talk to Mark for the first month she knew about us. And if you're upset about her bringing up your dad—"

"I am," Dennis bit out.

Hanson raised an eyebrow at him. "Why?" That conversation had done little more than confuse the hell out of him.

"He has no right to judge me at all, everything he put us through."

"He wasn't."

"She—"

"Yeah. Exactly. She mentioned your dad; she was probably going to say something about how they always wanted grandkids, and you jumped down her throat. Babe, he is still your father, and he was her husband for a long time. You can't blame her if she mentions him once in a while." He worked the bottle out of Dennis's hand and set it down. "Why are you so upset?"

Booker shook his head. "It's just… this was bad timing; I've got enough other shit to deal with. I didn't want to do this at all, never mind now."

"You want to talk about it?" He'd had a feeling that Joyce had just been the unfortunate one stuck receiving the brunt of his boyfriend's frustration. Something had been bothering Dennis since the day he'd started his current case, but he had no idea what.

"No."

Tom saw Booker eye the bottle he'd taken away. "You're not getting it back, so forget it."

"You sound like my mother."

"Ha." Hanson rolled his eyes at his boyfriend's glare. "That's not going to make me give it back." He studied him for a moment. "I've never seen you act like this."

"A lot of things you've never seen," Dennis answered quietly, and Tom frowned.

Unbidden – against his will, really – his mind drifted back to the conversation they'd had a few days ago, about Booker's old girlfriend and his drinking, and it was his turn to stare at the bottle. He took a deep breath, deciding that he didn't like the direction his thoughts were taking. "I wish you'd talk to me."

His lover just shook his head and turned away, walking out of the kitchen and toward the bedroom. "I can't deal with this; I've got enough other crap on my mind."

"Like what?" Hanson left the bottle on the counter and followed him. He wasn't willing to let this go; he was accustomed to Dennis being closed-off at times, but something told him this was different than usual. There was a lot he didn't seem to know, and his lover didn't appear at all interested in enlightening him.

Maybe he was wrong. Booker stopped in the doorway, though he didn't turn around. "I've got a study date with Greene on Monday afternoon."

"Why didn't you tell me?" Tom moved to stand behind him, resting a hand on his shoulder. But Dennis moved away quickly, taking a step into his bedroom.

"It's nothing; should go down smooth."

"Then why are you still going to school armed every day?"

"I just am."

"For a guy who acts for a living, you're a lousy liar."

"No worse than you."

"Thanks for proving my point." He sighed. "Fine, you don't want to tell me, whatever. But you gotta tell Fuller – and Penhall."

"Penhall won't listen to a word I say; he's convinced Adler and his friends are liars, and nothing I can say will change his mind. He made that crystal clear."

"He's just nervous about making the same mistake twice."

"Yeah – so nervous he'd rather let the guy walk even if he's guilty. Hanson, there's no way Adler's lying, and I'm not letting Greene get away with this."

Tom was silent, a little stunned by the vehemence in Dennis's voice. "What are you gonna do? How far are you gonna take this?" Something wasn't right.

"As far as it takes to convince Penhall."

"Dennis—"

Booker walked the rest of the way into the bedroom and closed the door in Hanson's face.