Summary: Tom and Dennis are stuck on an airplane together

Summary: Tom and Dennis are stuck on an airplane together. Amongst the fighting, awkward games of truth or dare, and death threats, will they both find something they have in common?

A/N: I don't own 21 JS and this might just possibly be horrible but I was bored and decided to write it. If you don't like it, I apologize ahead of time.

Disclaimer: Cursing and suggestiveness.

On The Plane With Dennis Booker

"I can't fucking believe I am stuck on an airplane for the next four hours with you!" Tom Hanson growled as he glared at Dennis Booker from the corner of his eye, "Of all the things to be stuck doing!"

"Hey, I'm not that bad, am I, Hamburger?" Dennis asked in an innocent way that made Tom want to hurl him out the window.

"Yes, yes you are. Hell, you're the frickin' seventh layer of hell in one frickin' person!"

"Thank you!"

"Not a compliment."

"Come on, Hamburger, we caught the guy!"

"I still don't understand why Fuller put me on the case with you and why we had to be the ones to fly four hours away! They're cops in Greenbrier!"

"Throwing a temper tantrum all because you didn't get your little lover-boy as your partner on this one?"

"Number one – this is not a temper tantrum. Number two – Doug is not my lover boy and he will always be my partner, no matter how many cases I get stuck on with you!"

"Hey, we got the guy, Hanson. Matthews' will rot in Greenbrier prison and he'll never rape another girl again."

"That don't make being stuck with you any less miserable," Tom grumbled.

Dennis rolled his eyes and turned his attention to out the window as the plane began to pull away from the gate. Tom grabbed the SkyMall from the back of the seat in front of him and began to leaf through the pillows and ridiculous lawn decorations. As he thumbed through the glossy pages, his thoughts drifted back to the past weekend. Fuller had assigned him and Dennis to a case involving Devon Matthews – a lowdown redneck with a thing for under-aged girls. Dennis and Tom had successfully caught Devon but despite catching him and throwing him behind bars, they still hadn't gotten along.

"I'm bored."

"And I'm annoyed!" Tom answered; his voice chipperly acrimonious.

"I'll have you know, I don't do well in planes."

"I remember," Tom nodded, recalling the miserable flight out to Greenbrier.

"So, let's play a little game."

"Last time you asked me to play a game I ended up strapped to an electric chair…"

"You loved it and you know it!" Dennis sneered.

"Shut up," Tom mumbled, becoming suddenly intensely interested in a lawn gnome.

"You haven't even heard the game yet…" Dennis protested.

"I don't have to."

"Come on, Hamburger. Live a little."

"Alright, alright!" Tom growled, slamming the magazine shut, "What's the game?"

"It's like truth or dare."


"No what?"

"I'm not playing that."

"Come on, Hanson!"

"No. There is no way in fucking hell I am playing truth or dare with you!"

"Why not?"

"WHY NOT? Oh, I don't know Dennis…maybe because you are a FREAKING PSYCHO?"

"So you say. Not that I'm one to disagree…"

"Dennis look, I am not playing truth or dare with you. I'm going to sit here and read the SkyMall…"

"Only grandmas read that."

"You know what, I wonder if that little window is big enough to shove you out of?"

"It probably is but I think that'd be kind of frowned upon by the airline and Fuller."

"Alright, we haven't even taken off yet and I'm already contemplating killing you. Not a good start, Dennis."

"When are we ever on a good start, Hamburger?"

"Stop calling me that!" Tom growled, "Alright, if I play truth or dare with you, will you shut up?"


"Alright, I'm in."

"I'll go first."

"Of course you will."

"Alright, truth or dare?"

Tom contemplated choosing dare but either way it was a double-edged sword. If he picked dare, Dennis would probably make him do something horrendous. If he chose truth though, he'd be considered a coward. Tom bit his lower lip. Truth would probably be his safest bet with Dennis. Sighing, Tom finally answered:



"Excuse me?" Tom raised an eyebrow.

"You're a chicken."

"Pardon me for not wanting to drink out of the toilet or strip down and run up and down the isle singing Van Halen."

"Oooh! That's a good one. And you say you aren't evil!"

"I'm not and I swear to God if you make me do any of the stuff I just mentioned, you won't live to make it back to the chapel."

"Is that a death threat, Hamburger?"

"No, that's a promise."

"You can't kill. You're too saintly to do something like end someone's life."

"I could if it came down to it."


"I could. Don't push me, Dennis."

"But it's so fun to give you that jolt," Dennis leered.

"Shut it. So, are we playing the game or not?"

"Fine," Dennis sighed, "Have you ever…slept with a woman?"

"What kind of question…"

"Answer it."

"Yes," Tom answered truthfully.

"Really? I saw you as the sex after marriage type, or is Saint Thomas not as holy as I imagined him to be."

"Far from holy, actually. So is it my turn to ask you?"

"Looks that way, Hamburger."

"Alright," Tom sighed, "Truth or dare?"

"Dare," Dennis smirked.

"I dare you to…flirt with the flight attendant when she asks us for our drinks. When she asks if we want anything, well I am sure you can come up with a perverse answer on your own."

"Your on!" Dennis laughed as the plan lurched upward. Tom's hands clasped the arms of the seat, his knuckles growing white, "'Fraid, Hamburger?"

"I am not I just don't like planes."

"Truth or dare?"


"You just aren't going to make this fun for me, are you?"

"I'm trying not to," Tom answered before gulping.

"Alright. Have you ever had sex with a man?"

"What?" Tom's eyes widened, "Okay, I was right. You are a psycho. Who gave you a badge in the first place?"

"Answer the question, Tommy boy!"

"No, Dennis, I have not had sex with a man."

"Good. I feel a lot better about having to sit next to you. You're turn."

"Hold up, the flight attendants are making their rounds. Don't forget to flirt, Dennis."

"Oh Tom, just hide and watch from the master."

"The master?" Tom scoffed, "Please."

"It's true. You wish you could get that piece of tail and you probably can, in your dreams. With me," Dennis smirked, "I actually can."

"We'll have to see."

"Bet I can get her in the bathroom before the flight's over."

"You're a pig."

"Yes I am, Hamburger and you're a prude."

"There's a difference between respect and being a prude, Dennis."

"Not in my book."

Tom rolled his eyes and smacked his gum between his jaws. The tall, brunette was nearing their row and Tom knew Doug would make his move – no matter how inappropriate it may be.

"Here she comes, Tommy boy. Hide and watch the master at work."

"Hi," the attendant smiled cheerfully, "What would you two like to drink?"

"I don't know, what flavors do you come in, sweet heart?" Dennis grinned.

"Oh well there's only one," she smiled sweetly, "It's called Screw Off. I think you've probably heard of it a lot."

Tom couldn't help but chuckle.

"Something funny?" She asked.

"No," Tom shook his head, biting back a laugh, "I'd just have a Coke and he'll have the same."

"Thanks a lot, Tommy!" Dennis hissed once the attendant was gone.

"Waddid I do?"

"Now she isn't interested in me!"

"I don't think she ever was interested, Dennis."

"Shut up."

"Truth or dare, Dennis?" Tom smirked, sipping his Coke.

"This is getting lame."

"It's only 'lame' because I screwed up your little love fest…"

"Shut up, Hamburger."

"Look Dennis, why can't we just sit and finish out this flight and not talk."

"I'll be fine with that."

"Me too. In fact, I'd be just dandy as candy!"

"Yeah, you're a freak."

"You strapped me to an electric chair! You made me burn a cross! You…"

"Don't pin all this on me, Tommy boy!"

"Don't call me that!"

"It's your name, ain't it?"

"My name is Thomas James Hanson II – not Tommy boy."

"Jeesh, tense much?"

"Look, my dad's partner Charlie called him Tommy boy sometimes…"

"Your dad was a homo?"

It didn't take but a second for Tom to have Doug by the collar of his shirt, his face pushed up against his so that their noses were almost touching.

"You say that again, Dennis Booker and see what happens!"

"I'm sorry, alright," Dennis shrunk out of Tom's grasp, "It's a joke."

"Not a very funny one."

"Look, if your dad had a partner, I'm cool with…"

"He was an officer, Dennis!" Tom growled, "One of the finest."

"Look, Hanson…"

"Have I ever told you about my dad, Dennis?" Tom asked, his voice biting.

"No," Dennis shook his head, "Was he a brown-noser like you?"

"You know what, fuck it! You don't deserve to hear about my dad!"

"Hey, Hanson, I didn't mean it like that. Look, tell me about your dad. I want to know," Dennis said, his tone suddenly becoming serious.



"Alright. It was the Valentine's Day dance, I was sixteen years old, and Diane Thompson had agreed to go with me…"

Tom struggled through the story that had not been shared with many people. He could hardly believe he was currently sharing it with Dennis Booker of all people but if he and Booker were supposed to work together, Booker needed to know. After stumbling through the too familiar story-line, Tom closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the head rest and sighed.


"Look, I dealt with all this stuff a long time ago. Charlie sat me down and told me what had happened. I'm proud of what my dad did that night and I'm proud I got to tell you about it. But that still don't mean I gotta like Valentine's Day."

"I lost my dad too."

"Really?" Tom asked, suddenly becoming interested, for the first time, in what Dennis had to say.

"Yup. I wasn't much older than you – seventeen. He died of liver failure. Too much whiskey I suppose…"


"I come home from school one night and find him slumped over his chair, Jack Daniel's bottle still in his hand. Ma's at work – she worked two jobs to keep food on the table for us – and I had to be the one to call her. I had to be the one to tell her."

"Dennis…I'm sorry…"

"Hey, like you, I dealt with all this stuff a long time ago."

"You know, Dennis, this means we actually have something in common," Tom noted.

"You're right, Hanson. Who'd know!"

"Yeah," Tom nodded, "But for the record, you're still a psycho."

"And you're still a prude."

"I think I can live with that."

"Think you can live with working with me for a few more cases?"

"Eh," Tom bit his lower lip, "Possibly. But I swear to God, if you try to get me to play truth or dare again I will throw you out the window."

A/N: And this is where I end this. Sorry it's so terrible but I was bored and Dennis entertains me at times.