A/N: This is my first every fanfic, and I'm really excited to finally be writing one, and a 21 Jump Street one at that! I really, really love reviews (constructive criticism, praise, anything is appreciated), but I'm not going to be one of those annoying people who is like, 'I won't write Chapter 2 until I get 5 reviews.' I'll be writing on my own time, but reviews do get me motivated and I tend to write faster… Just a hint.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything. Not 21 Jump Street, not any of the characters, and not Tom. Oh, how I wish I owned Tom…

I got the idea for this story from reading this great one-shot Over the Rainbow by gin and ironic.


Chapter One: Revelation

Doug sat in his apartment, thinking about the past few months. So much had happened. People had changed so much, Doug, Harry, Judy, Dennis, and especially Tom. And all because of one mistakenly, drunkenly spilled secret. It had all started a couple of months ago.


The Jump Street gang had been out celebrating after a successful bust. On one side of the booth sat Harry Ioki and Judy Hoffs, and on the other side Doug Penhall and Tom Hanson. At the end of the booth sat Officer Dennis Booker, on a chair. He was the newest officer, originally from I.A.D., and was still a bit of a misfit in the close group.

However, on this evening everyone was getting along well, even Hanson and Booker, who were normally at each other's throats. Hanson, Penhall, and Hoffs had been working very hard on a case, and had just made a nice, clean bust. They had gone out for dinner to celebrate. Their commanding officer, Captain Fuller, usually stern and strict, had actually suggested the idea.

It was getting late and everyone was starting to leave to his or her apartment. Booker was the first to leave, then Hoffs and Ioki. Finally, it was just Doug and Tom left sipping their beers.

Hanson should really go easy on the beer, Dough thought, a bit amused, as his friend signaled for yet another refill. Doug had refrained from drinking for a while when he noticed Tom had no intention of stopping. After all, someone had to drive them home, and it wasn't going to be Tom in his current state.

Doug was telling Hanson all about the newest football game he had been watching. He could tell Tom was losing interest; he never was one for sports.

"Doug," Tom said suddenly, looking up from the table to Doug with a really weird look on his face that Doug had never seen before.

"Yeah?" Doug said cautiously, trying to decipher the look in Tom's big brown puppy eyes, currently dull with alcohol.

"I–" Tom began, but suddenly his eyes flashed wide in alarm as he noticed a big, muscular guy with spiked brown hair head toward the bathroom. "Hide me," he whispered.

Doug obeyed without question, easily hiding the slim shape of his partner behind his bulkier frame. The guy that Tom seemed to be avoiding passed, and with an audible sigh of relief, Tom sat up from where he had slid down, concealed by Doug's back.

"Thanks, man," Tom smiled, his words having a bit of a drunken slur to them. He reached for his beer and took another long sip.

"No problem," Doug said. "Who was he?" He couldn't help it, he was curious. Doug had a right to know about what his partner was doing, who he knew and who he hung out with. After all, he was constantly being reminded about how partner's had to pay for each other's mistakes.

"My ex-boyfriend," Tom replied calmly.

"Your what? Did you say ex-boyfriend?" Doug wasn't sure he had heard that properly.

"Yeah. He and I broke it off just a couple o' months ago. We didn't part on good terms. He–" Tom stopped mid-slur, his brown eyes widening as his drink-addled brain finally processed what he had revealed. "Oh God," he muttered, seeming to become much more sober in a sort amount of time. "Forget what I said, I mean, he was just a friend of mine that I didn't get along very well with and – and – I gotta go, here's $20 dollars to pay for the bill…"

"Tom," Doug cut off his obviously flustered friend mid-sentence. "You can't drive home after drinking what, like five bottles of beer? Just wait for me to pay and I'll drive you to your apartment."

"Okay," Tom muttered, and fell silent. I don't even get a thank you, Doug thought as he paid the bill. Dough had picked Tom up on his car (he liked his bike better but Tom had some bad memories about motorcycles) so he didn't have a problem dropping Tom off.

Tom was silent the whole 20 minutes to his apartment. At one point Doug even thought that he had fallen asleep. When he arrived at Tom's apartment, Tom thanked him and then hurried rather drunkenly away. If he thought Doug would just forget about the boyfriend comment, he was wrong. Doug would come back the next day and get to the bottom of this mess. Hopefully Tom would be sober and more coherent in the morning, and all of Doug's suspicions would turn out to be silly, false thoughts that they would laugh about later.

Yeah, right. If he believed that, he would believe anything.


Tom was lying down on his couch, his eyes closed. One word was repeating itself constantly though his sluggish early-morning brain.

Shit.

It was the morning following his night at the bar. The night where he drunkenly spilled his best-kept and most important secret.

Shit.

And not to mention that he had a massive hangover. And that Doug would be coming some time this day to question the 'boyfriend' issue. Tom knew his partner well enough to know a visit was guaranteed.

Shit.

He opened his tired eyes and looked at the dim, red digital clock, slowly blinking the day away. 6:45 AM. Tom closed his bleary eyes again, but he knew he wouldn't be able to sleep.

Tom thought about all the times he had considered confiding in Doug. Doug was, after all, his best friend on the force, and probably in life, and his work partner. But he had always decided, no, not now, this isn't a good time, maybe tomorrow. Tomorrow, he'd tell himself the same lie.

6:51 AM.

Tom finally gave up the battle for sleep and sat up from the couch. He tossed on the first shirt that he found, a wrinkled white one, and tugged on a pair of jeans over his boxers. He didn't really care how he looked today.

At least he didn't have to work today - it was a Sunday. Tom wandered over to the kitchen and made himself some coffee. He needed caffeine; he couldn't think straight.

After eating a breakfast of cereal and drinking a cup of coffee, he was feeling much better and ready to face the day… and Doug. The clock read 7:32 AM.

Tom was cleaning everything up when he heard a knock on the door. He stiffened and didn't answer. He knew who it was.

"It's Doug, Tom." Doug's voice came from behind the door, the door that was protecting Tom from more pain and embarrassment than he had already endured. "You can't ignore me forever."

Doug had a point. With a sign, Tom walked over to the door, yanking it open. "What do you want?" Tom practically growled. Doug looked good in his black leather jacket that looked good with his carefully messy brown hair. Tom knew that he looked haggard in comparison; he hadn't bothered to comb his hair and had just thrown on whatever clothes he had come across.

Doug attempted to pout, but couldn't pull it off nearly as well as Tom could. "That's not a very nice way to greet a friend," he said with his signature cheesy grin. Tom managed a half smile. Doug could always make him feel better. Except for now.

"At least let me in, Tom," Doug said, his voice taking on a whiny tone.

"Fine," Tom sighed, letting Doug walk in to his tidy apartment and closing the door behind him.

Doug looked around briefly and plopped himself down on the couch. He had been in Tom's apartment many times before and knew where everything was. But he had never been here under these… interesting circumstances. "Look, Tom…" Doug began nervously. "Last night, you told me something about a boyfriend, and you've been acting weird ever since. Are you going to tell me what this is about?"

Tom considered his options, not at all surprised by the question. He could:

1) Reply using the standard response, similar to what he had been doing practically all his life, and just brush it off as drunken rambling

2) Make up some story as to why he had called the guy his ex-boyfriend

3) Tell the truth and finally admit it

Option #3 was strangely, almost scarily appealing. To finally come clean after all these years… and who else to tell the truth to then his partner, and best friend?

But Tom knew that he would go with #1, like he always did and always would do. He wasn't strong enough right now, especially with a hangover and a massive headache (possibly because of the former). Maybe he would admit the truth later. Who am I kidding, Tom thought harshly. I'll never admit it, not now, not ever.

Tom collapsed in the couch beside his partner; his after-breakfast energy and caffeine sugar buzz quickly evaporating in the tension and reason for Doug's visit. "I was drunk. I didn't know what I was saying. Hasn't that ever happened to you?"

Doug had seen Tom's hesitation and obvious internal conflict and frowned. Something was seriously wrong here. Doug tried to look at Tom's eyes but he wasn't making eye contact. He was also speaking very fast. Both were signs of lying. "Tom…" Doug said slowly, choosing his words carefully. "We both know it wasn't that simple. You seemed pretty sober after you said it, anyway."

"Doug…" Tom finally looked at Doug, his expressive brown eyes begging for mercy, pleading with Doug to let the subject drop. But it was too late, he couldn't do that now. He was too far in.

Tom could tell Doug wasn't going to just drop the interrogation and leave, or change the subject to the most recent sports game. "I–" What was he supposed to say? Tom's headache suddenly returned full force, and he closed his eyes, leaning against the back of the couch.

"Tom," Doug said, worried about Tom's evident signs of physical and mental exhaustion. "It's okay man, I don't care. I mean, it's okay if you're…"

"If I'm what?" Tom suddenly said in a raised voiced, rapidly getting louder. He seemed to regain his energy as his dark eyes filled with anger and pent-up emotion. "You can say it, Doug. You can say, 'It's okay if you're gay.' 'It's okay if you're homosexual.' 'It's okay if you're queer; it's okay if you're a fag. You can say, 'it's okay if you like guys'. Well guess what, Doug, I do! I'm gay and have been for forever, and no one even knew until I freaking let it slip, just 'cause I drank too damn much!"

Doug sat throughout the whole outburst openmouthed. When Tom was done, he realized what he had been doing and closed his gaping mouth. "No – no one knows? I mean, no one knew?" This was all too much to take in. Doug would just get through it one question at a time.

"Well, my mom does, and now you, but no one else knows and I'd like to keep it that way." Tom stopped his pacing and returned to the couch, tiredly sitting down. Now that he had finally revealed his biggest secret and vented most of his anger, he seemed much calmer and willing to talk.

Well, Doug mused. Tom Hanson was gay. This was certainly a new and surprising development.


A/N: Well, I hope you like it so far! If you have any suggestions or anything to say at all, please please please click that wonderful review button!