Title: Slumber

Summary: Dorian falls asleep resting against Basil and Basil starts to think.

Disclaimer: I do not own and never will.

Warning: Slash, don't like don't read.

A/N: I do prefer to write Dorian Gray stories when he was the young innocent blonde lad who seemed to be incredibly shy and always blushed. Obviously from my description it's book based and not movie. Well – anyway – read and hopefully enjoy.

"My best friend gave me the best advice,

he said each day is a gift

and not a given right".

Nickelback – If Today Was Your Last Day

Basil had forgotten the last time he had felt this happy.

Dorian had fallen asleep against him, his blonde hair spilling over his shoulder. It looked like gold and felt like silk to the touch. There was a touch of colour gracing Dorian's cheeks as his red lips were slightly parted, exposing perfect pearl white teeth. His breathing was even and his long, black, feminine lashes rested gracefully against his fair skin, the occasional strand of golden hair falling into his face.

He was at rest, and was content as to where he was, after all he had been the one to decide to rest against Basil after he had yawned and then blushed as he felt Basil's curious eyes on him.

Basil occasionally ran his fingers delicately through Dorian's glorious locks, occasionally receiving a light, nearly inaudible sigh of approval.

Basil found himself memorised by Dorian Gray. Everything about him was just right; the human embodiment of perfection. His felt his heart behave in the most unusual and unaccustomed manor when he was in Dorian presence and felt as though someone had deposited a lead weight in his stomach when their hands brushed or Dorian blushed, his eyes sparkling with youthful nativity. When Dorian smiled at him, he felt as though his own smile could outgrow his face, his heart consumed with happiness that felt eternal and did not merely touch his soul, but manifest its very essence into every fibre of his being.

Dorian's weight in his arms felt right. Basil felt he could have stayed as he was for eternity. He loved the young man; but for more than for his external beauty. The external beauty was only the tip of the ice burg that is beauty. Dorian had a personality to match. A soul that was as beautiful as he was in appearance. His graceful elegance, delicate touch and the way he held himself when nervous, his fascination and his cries of amazement, exclamation and happiness all made Basil find it all the more harder to keep his thoughts to himself. He had nothing but honourable intentions; he simply wanted to tell Dorian of how mad he was for him and … if permitted ... to kiss him.

Looking upon Dorian, his eyes drinking in his appearance as though it would be the last time he would be able to see him, he saw the handkerchief slightly poking out of the pocket of his jacket. Basil smiled to himself as he remembered when he had got a spot of paint on his face while painting Dorian and how Dorian had run to his side and, retrieving the handkerchief from the confines of his pocket, removed the paint from his cheek with the delicacy and touch of a divine creature. Basil touched the spot where Dorian had removed the paint with such love and attention. After Dorian had pocketed the handkerchief once more, their eyes had met. Dorian had blushed furiously before retreating, leaving Basil touched and confused over the emotions that Dorian's touch had subjected him too.

Basil considered it wishful thinking that Dorian could ever reciprocate his feelings. He dreamt of such an event arising; Dorian just blurting it out before blushing madly and turning to flee. In these dreams Basil always caught him and proclaimed that his heart would simply cease to be if Dorian left him. Then he always kissed him; delicately but passionately, all his emotions portrayed in that one single act that words would never adequately tell, no matter the words or tone of voice.

In the dream Dorian always kissed back.

Basil, however, knew that there was a difference between dreams and reality. He also thought that there was no way to bridge the gap. Dorian would never be his.

But with Dorian asleep in his arms, his happiness remained. Delicately, Basil brushed the golden strands of hair from Dorian's face and kissed his temple lightly, slightly tightening the embrace.

Dorian slept on.

End.