Disclaimer: If anything resembles 21 Jump Street, chances are, they own it. Anything doesn't, i own it.
A/n: Guh! I love my reviewers! You've got this special way of making my say XD So this chapter's a fair bit longer XD
Important Note: The italics are phone conversations and it kinda switches tenses…. You'll understand it once you read on, I hope :S Let me know please!
There is a bit of swearing in this. Oh, and violence too…heh.
- - -
To be Used
Chapter Six.
Domestic Monster.
"I won't be coming in to work today, sir."
"Doug! W-What are you doing here?" He fidgeted under the strengthening grip of Doug Penhall's, now wary of his actions.
"Why?" he snarled, eyes bitter and hurt, "Been busy with someone else, Tommy?" He let go of the fabric, instead turning his hand to the jugular side of Tom's neck, running roughly down it as if checking to see if someone had tainted his possession.
Tom's eyes travelled down to the sleeve of his jacket, now suddenly very conscious of whose and what he was wearing. He felt a heated blush grace his cheekbones and he placed a hand on top of Doug's, "No, never Doug, never. I was just…I was wet and I…"
"Don't fucking lie to me Tom." His hand stopped moving, fingers now softly pinching the tender skin.
"I'm-I'm not Doug. I was just, I went to…I was cold."
He felt the arm travel to the back of his neck, fingers pressuring the neck painfully, "C'mon then," he uses his larger body to steer Tom around to the apartment, "If you're so cold, lets go get you warm then, yea?"
Tom's doe eyes widened with panic and fear and he hurried alongside of Doug, forced into the angle by the large hand, "Okay…" When had he become afraid of Doug?
"Hanson? You all right?"
"So-So what have you been doing, I mean, you were…how long have you been-" he fumbled fearfully over his words.
"Just shut up Tom." He struggled to jimmy the key in the lock, then, with a grunt and sideways shove, it faulted under his strength and swung open to hit the wall behind.
He felt himself being pushed heavily into the room so that he stumbled a little and narrowly missed the corner of the wall, "Doug, I'm sorry, I'm really, really sorry. I didn't," panic swelled in his chest, adrenaline stealing his breath as Doug advanced, "Please, please Doug. Please don't."
"Where have you been?" his eyes were dark and daring, like devil eyes watching sinners turn helplessly to ash. "Who have you been with?"
"No one. No one Doug, please, you're scaring me."
"If it was no one Tommy, you'd tell me, wouldn't you?" His footfalls stopped half a metre from where Tom stood shaking in fear, "So why won't you fucking tell me!" he spat lividly.
"Booker," he squeaked, "I was with Booker." He felt the wall of his kitchen slam almost securely into him, his hands reaching out for the walls cool touch.
"Why do you have to do this Tommy?"
"Yea, I'm fine. Just a little under the weather I guess."
"D-Do what?" he wished so desperately that he could be anywhere but here, that he hadn't been so blinded that he could have foresighted this, all of this.
"Grind me up like this. Do you purposely try and rattle me?" his features suddenly changed to that of regret, almost pity, "Do you? Do you try to get me to hate you?"
Tom never liked the way Doug could change his features, becoming aggressive and loathing one moment, to regretful and teary the next. It had always been a bad sign, and more than ever Tom felt it was the worst sign. "No Doug, I never would, I never would. Please…"
"Please what Tom?" His voice laced in cruel sinister tones and deceiving pity, remorse.
"I-I...I don't know. Doug," he couldn't help the heave in his chest, the uncontrollable shake, the involuntary crack of voice as the first sob wracked him, "I'm sorry Doug." A tear pushed its way out, trailing slowly down his honey cheek.
"So am I Tom, so am I."
"You sure? You sound a little out of it."
Doug's mouth connected cruelly onto Tom's, reopening the wounds Booker had not long ago opened. Running his tongue over Tom's quivering one, canine teeth biting unforgivingly into his tender flesh. He sucked on the spilt blood, dragging his lips from Tom's, licking away the flowing liquid.
Tom's body tensed under the touch, an unforgiving touch, a touch so brutal that Tom had never experienced it from Doug. His mouth was unresponsive; body too fearful, tears spilling from his eyes as his hands clenched, legs trapped between Doug's thighs.
"I think I know what you two got up to."
He felt the warm breath hit his mouth, his own breath coming in shallow pants, "No Doug," his mind drawing to the conclusion Doug had, "No, it wasn't like that."
"No?" His hands came to pin Tom's wrists above his head, "Why don't you tell me then?" his breath hot and wispy against his neck.
"Doug, please…" he felt himself struggle weakly under his grip but he was too shaky, too pathetic to defend himself.
His mouth clamped onto his neck, lips twisting and pinching the skin, sucking greedily, ravenously, hatefully; tearing the skin, breaking it, letting blood dots rise to the surface. "You're such a bastard Tom, you deserve this."
"I feel a little out of it, just sick Coach, nauseous, dizzy, you know the drill."
"I-I didn't do any-anything!" he turned his neck from Doug's possessive clamp, finding himself disgusted and appalled at the situation, at his lover. His once lover.
Anger and fury glinted in Doug's eyes, mouth thinned in a snarl, "Like Hell Tom," he rammed a knee between Tom's legs trapping him once again, letting the captured arms fall free, "Like fucking Hell."
He struggled through his own clumsiness to push Doug off, hands on his shoulders, using the little support he could lever off the wall to support himself. "Get off me Doug," his fear grew to anger, "Get the fuck off me!"
He raised his hand, finding himself for a second time unable to suppress the rage he felt, "Don't you dare speak to me like that." He let it swing back then forth, connecting with the side of Tom's head.
Tom flinched under the contact, the sound of a muffled smack ringing in his ears, "Fuck Doug," he bit back the whimper and wave of tears that desperately yearned to be released, adding weight to his already pained heart.
Doug let him draw a hand to the side of his head, let him moan a half whimper; let him have tears run down his face though the sight was disgusting him, "You're so pathetic Tom."
Tom found himself relenting, energy drained and lost, heart already broken to bother repairing it. "Can't you just hear me out?"
"I'm listening…"
"…Will you be coming tomorrow?"
"I…I was so lost Doug, I went…I just drove around and I went to Booker's place. We just talked that's all."
"That's all?"
"That's all."
He didn't expect Doug's knee to move, pressure ceasing. He didn't expect to see Doug's eyes turn to empathy and understanding, just like he didn't expect the backhand that sent him crumpling to the floor. Just like he didn't expect, through blurred and puffed eyes, to see Doug's features once more change to rage and hate.
"You never could lie."
He drew himself up, trying to stand, though the shock and burn on his face kept him down. He ran a shaking hand through his messed hair, breathing shallow and deep, "Doug…" his voice lost and confused.
"Can you just shut up Tom?" he squatted down to Tom's level, adjusting, almost mockingly, his jackets' collar. "How do you think it feels to wait around for your love in the freezing cold only to have him drive up and not even acknowledge your presence 'till much later? How do you think it feels when the guy on the step knows the guy in the car was somewhere where he shouldn't be, doing stuff he shouldn't be doing?"
"I told you," he spat, "I didn't-I didn't," he faltered, trying to buy his own lie, "I didn't' do anything!"
A hand grabbed at Tom's slender jaw, gripping it tight so the skin pulled over the bone, neck raised in pressure, "I know you're lying Tom, and do you know how?"
"Not sure, probably, I just...I really think it'd be better if I didn't come in today."
He defined him again, gritting through clamped teeth, "I told you Doug, nothing happened."
Doug seethed, letting Tom's jaw fall from his grasp, "Yea?" his eyes darkened, features eerie, "Funny, because I know something happened. So why Tom may I ask, do you have to keep lying to me?"
"I-I" he choked, tears reforming and falling, sob lodged in his throat, "I told you I'm not-"
"Stop," he let his hand fall to connect with Tom's cheek bone, "fucking- Lying- To- Me!!" Each word punctuated by another hit, another slap, another knife to Tom's heart.
Tom's breathing hitched, now completely unable to control the tears, the loud sobs and dry cries of, "Stop, Doug, please." Doug panted next to him, eyes fixated on the fallen, curled form of Tom.
"Stop it Tom! Just stop it!"
"You're probably right. Do you want me to send Penhall over? I think he wants back on the Caitlyn Case."
"S-stop what?" he stammered, "I-I'm, I'm not doing anything."
"This! Stop this! Stop all the lying! I know you and Booker kissed, probably did more, but I know it! You wanna know how I know it!?" he waited, breathing deeply through his nose, for a reply. Not receiving one, he kneeled next to Tom, dragging him by the collar to a floppy sit, trying to get eye contact. "I can taste him! I can fucking taste the smoke in your mouth; I can feel were he tainted you, and you know what, it makes you feel disgusting! It makes you so disgusting"
"Doug," he begged, "I'm sorry, I'm so fucking sorry!" his face felt swollen and raw, he briefly wondered if it was bleeding, "What else do you want me to fucking say?! I love you Doug, and I'm sorry, I fucked up, I'm so fucking sorry!"
He gripped Tom's head, their eyes now staring into one another; one pair filled with pain and sorrow, red raw from the tears they've shed. The other, angry and furious; pupils wide and daunting from the amount of hate they possessed. "You know what Tom?"
He shook his head in Doug's grip, a little nudge against the sweating palm.
"It's not fucking good enough." He let his hands slide over to the back of Ton's head, grabbing a fistful of the hair and then slamming his face forwards into the floor.
Doug pulled himself away from the body, mind broken from the trance he had encaged himself into. Horrified, he scuttled further from the crumpled body, the weak pained whimpers and soft sobs. "Oh God."
"No …no, it's alright, I'll call him tonight. He's busy; it's really fine, thanks though."
Doug gathered his running thoughts, aware of what he had just done. Shaking, he stretched a hand for the soft mop of hair. "Tom?" the body retreated under his touch, curling further into himself. "Tommy?" He pleaded.
The body shrivelled and whimpered, the sound of crying- like a young child- resounded off the bare walls, "D-Doug"
Doug felt his own tears well inside of him, trying to find the way to the surface. He breathed in shakily, fathomed by his actions, unable to recall most of them, "Tom…Tom, I'm so sorry, I'm so -"
Tom's body arched, pulling itself off of the floor onto his propped elbows, "Don't say it Doug, don't even-even think" he breathed heavily, shaken by everything that had occurred in the last twenty minutes, "think about it."
"Tom, I didn't-"
He pulled himself up, hand now supporting himself on the ground, other running slowly, delicately, over his face. A leg bent in the shape of an 'L' to his side, other tucked under his knee. "Just get outta here Doug, please" even now, furious and disgusted, he knew where his place was; beneath, just like it always had been, in every situation.
Doug's body pressed against the wall, head in his hands, heart beat in his ears, "Hear me out Tom, please, I came to tell you something, I had to, and it just, it just got way outta-"
"Doug?" his voice soft and delicate, back still facing Doug.
"Yea.
"Fuck off!" tone now violent.
"Tom, are you sure you're okay? Is something bothering you? Is there anything I can do, anything to help you? You can tell me Tom if it's something serious, even if its not, you can talk to me; you know that."
Doug nodded, understanding, he couldn't blame Tom for wanting him out of here, he really couldn't. He wouldn't even blame Tom if he shot him; Doug might even do it himself. He still was in shock of what he had done, how could he have? How could he have hit Tom, repeatedly, uncontrollably and with such a rage, such a temper and not even realize the damage? He was a monster.
"Yea, okay Tom. Sure, look, I'm really sorry. I…if you…"
"Just get out Doug, please, get out." He drew himself together, slowly picking himself up to an unbalanced stand. "Now…"
Doug nodded, clutching the end of his top, twisting the material in his hands, "Yea, 'course. I am sorry Tom."
"Yea…"
"You forgive me right?"
Tom stood, swaying a little before he gave a shrug of his shoulders, "Yea, sure. Why not? It was an accident, right?"
"Yea…"
He turned, giving Doug his swollen, slightly coloured face, "Cool…" a feigned small smile.
What got Doug to finally cave and cry was the small smile Tom had forced, even though his eyes shined of pain, his face streaked in tears; confusion, fear, agony and remorse all evident in those baby brown eyes of his.
Doug thought he might've actually broken Tom
"It's…I…I'm feeling dizzy sir, I think it's best if I… lay down for a little, thank you though."
"I'll be going then…" he made hesitantly for the door, as if Tom might call out for him and stop him, throwing an overbearing hug around his neck.
"Yea…"
"I know…"
Doug nodded simply, letting the door close softly behind him, guilt smothering him. Tom watched him go, watched him disappear. Listened to him rev the bike he loved, listened to his heart shatter over and over again. Listened to his heart beat grow louder with each second, the overbearing loss of control forcing him to his knees.
"...beep-…beep-…beep-…"
Arms wrapped tightly around him self, he cried helplessly, uncontrollably, undeniably into them. Glistening drops shimmering down his patch work face. Sliding soothingly down his raw and bloody, abused face.
He breathed in chokingly, shoulders shuddering. He felt so numb, so cold and isolated yet his warm body and throbbing head contradicted it all. He rubbed his arms as a night breeze drifted over him, finding himself falling to his side like a crumpled rose petal, hugging his body for the comfort he was denied. Tom never could forget this night, never.
"-okay…"
It was the night Tom had ever felt truly broken.
- - -
Fuller placed the phone down, confused and worried, anxiousness wracking him. It was unlike Tom to call in sick, unlike him to act…so…so void of himself on the phone. He wondered what had happened in the young Officers life that he had somehow missed.
He started as the office door smacked loudly, the tall, shadowed figure of Doug standing before him, hands in pocket, leaning heavily against the door frame, leg crossed. He turned, forming a smile to the young officer, "What can I do for you, Penhall?"
"It's loud today, isn't it." An idle statement.
"Yea."
"Do you remember how quiet it used to be down here?"
"No…" Fuller stilled the hands reaching for a pile of paper, now more interested in what the young Officer before him was musing over.
"No, no you wouldn't. It was before you came. It was quiet Coach, damn quiet. Good quiet y'know?"
Fuller nodded. It was the type of quiet that his throbbing headaches yearned for when the 'McQuaid' brothers were in town, or when Doug and Tom were being their usual idiotic ape selves.
His hands dug deeper into his pockets, "I kinda miss that quiet…"
"What's bothering you Penhall?"
He snapped his head up, eyes startled, "Huh? Nothing Captain, nothing, just a little bored."
Fuller's eyebrows rose, head lowering to the papers before him, hands regretfully grabbing hold of the thick wad, "No surprise there, need Hanson to keep you occupied." He didn't notice the growing eyes and fidget of body, "Just be grateful you're not doing paperwork son"
"Mmm"
Adam looked up, scrutinising eyes interrogating the Officer, "Everything okay, Doug?"
He nodded slowly, "like I said, bored a little." He smiled faintly, his thoughts once again to Tom and last night. To his full pent rage and bellows and lethal, accurate hits. Tom's chocked sobs and begs, cries and pleas. His face scrunched in fear, body cowered, and words…begged words…Don't think of it Douggie He shook his shaggy hair, he wouldn't think of it.
He shifted uncomfortably on the wooden frame, catching the last part of Fuller's words, "Wha'?"
Adam sighed, "I asked if you knew what was wrong with Tom."
"Oh…No, why, he ain't coming in today?"
"No, says he's unwell." Fuller shifted uncomfortably, "I thought you may know as you two are…well," he cleared out his throat, determined not to finish the sentence
"Oh…No," he blushed sheepishly, "No, I'm not really sure…I'm sorry about yesterday too…" Doug spaced out, he wasn't aware of the damage he had caused last night, only mentally. He knew there'd be something though, a little bruising, some blood, a bit of swelling, but if the extent was that bad, that noticeable…Doug didn't want to know the damage, didn't want to know what a monster he had been.
"Cold?" Adam referred to the few shudders that had raced through Doug. He knew it was more though as Doug seemed to have entirely missed what Fuller had so embarrassingly spoken- about the two men's situation.
"No, no." he lent of the door frame, striding into the room, "Mind if I talk to ya a little, sir?"
His eyes narrowed. He had known that something was bothering Penhall, had known something was causing the younger officer to get anxiously antsy, and a small instinct in him told him that it almost very certainly had something to do with Tom Hanson. But being a man purely based on facts and evidence and a gut feeling that could at least be backed up by a minimum of three facts, he chose to ignore it. He would not make any false accusations or assumptions.
"Take a seat." He gestured to the chair.
"Thanks," nervously, Doug let his body ease into the padded seat. The two stared at another for a lengthy time.
"Well…" his annoyance had gotten the better of him.
"I was just wondering, you know, just needing to know," he tugged at a lose thread on his jacket, "Just sorta like, if you could help me and all, for a case and-"
"Spit it out Penhall," he was in no mood for childish stuttering.
Doug swallowed heavily, knowing it was too late to back out now. His mind turned on to over ride and sorted through every case he could think of that bared any shred of resemblance to what he was about to ask. Needing enough information to have a story set up if Fuller were to ask why Doug was asking the question that would almost certainly gather curiousness. Satisfied, he swallowed heavily again, leaning forward a little.
"What can you tell me about Domestic Violence?"
A little too long perhaps… :S Just hope it wasn't a boring long.
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