So I guess my brain isn't done with these two yet. Still not sure if this will turn out to be a full series. We'll see where the muse takes me. As always, thanks for reading :)

Spoilers for this chapter: 21 Jump Street Season Three
Potential spoilers for later chapters: 21 Jump Street Seasons 3 & 4, Booker Season One

Booker had been looking at him a lot over the past two weeks. At least, that's when Tom first starting noticing. And, frankly, it was getting a little weird. A week ago Tom had been close to just asking the guy if he had a problem, but decided against it. This wasn't the old, antagonizing, sardonic glare the other officer used to throw across the room at him back when they were working on their first case together. Nor was it the friendly, conspiratorial glance he had recently stared leveling at Hanson every time they both found something funny. No, this was something else, something Tom couldn't quite put his finger on.

If it had been anyone else, he might have pegged it as interest. Maybe even attraction. But that couldn't be right, could it? Nah. After all, this was Dennis Booker he was talking about. The same Dennis Booker who'd managed to score a date with Judy within mere minutes of arriving for his first day on the job. The only guy at Jump Street that was straighter than Booker was Penhall.

Dennis Booker was a man's man. A man's man who was maybe a bit too fond of leather but, still, a man's man. He liked beer, and football, and strip clubs (even though Tom was pretty sure that last one had just been to mess with him). He'd never seen Booker getting flirty with another guy. He had no reason to think that Dennis was interested in men at all. But there was something in the way the other guy looked at him. Something hidden in those dark eyes that made Tom itch. And wonder.

For the record, Tom Hanson liked women. He liked the softness of their skin. He liked the way their curves felt up against the harder, sharper planes of his body. He liked the taste of their cherry lip gloss. He liked the way they walked, the way they dressed, the way they smelled, the way they laughed, the way they did their hair. In fact, you'd be hard pressed to find something about women that Tom didn't like.

So it made it even more strange that, at this moment, Tommy found himself unable to look away from the very masculine, very not-soft contour of Dennis Booker's jaw line. I mean, sure, the guy had nice eyes. You could almost call them pretty. Deep brown with a touch of hazel, like coffee with cream or dry autumn leaves. And they were framed by the longest, thickest lashes Hanson had ever seen. He also had pretty decent lips, if you thought about it. And a great smile - the kind that could light up a room. Unless it was one of those smartass grins that that asshole slapped on his face whenever he felt like fucking with you. God, Tom hated those.

Why was he thinking about this anyway? Jesus, had he just been daydreaming about Booker? Booker's freaking eye lashes? And why had he been looking at the guy's jaw line? I mean, the eyes were understandable. Maybe even the smile, but his jaw line? His jaw line? 'Cause while his eyes might be considered pretty, in a girlish way, there was nothing else remotely feminine about Dennis Booker's face. Not to mention the rest of him.

And, as we've already established, Tom Hanson liked women. Really, loved women. So Booker liked to look at him. So what if Tom liked it? So what if, sometimes, he wanted to look right back?