Disclaimer:The novel "The Picture of Dorian Gray" belongs to Oscar Wilde. The 2009 movie "Dorian Gray" belongs to Momentum Pictures. I claim to be neither and I am making no profit. However, Roderick Lewin belongs to me so yay.

Warning: This fic is slash. Not explicit, not dirty, but still slash. As in 'male/male romantic relationship' and not 'cutting something open'. I very much doubt that there are any Dorian Gray fans who have a big problem with that, but if by chance you happen to be offended by such things, proceed no further.

Author's Note: This is inspired mostly by the movie because I like some characters and events better but it does have some elements from the book. People who have not seen the movie can still read it, although you may be a little confused about what's going on at times. I think the major differences are:

Sybil does not act quite as smacked-over-the-head as she does in the book. She's a rather normal young girl but she's stupid enough to actually sleep with Dorian and land herself pregnant. That hardly has a chance to become relevant though. She never screws-up her performance but Henry and Dorian get… sort of distracted on their way to the theatre way so they miss it, which leads to a fight between Sybil and Dorian. Next thing we know, she's drowned herself. I thought that was a bit over the top since Dorian never really broke-up with her but oh, well. Also, Basil is not quite as submissive here either. He is not at all happy about Dorian's engagement and shows it. He actually refuses to go and see the girl perform.

Basil gets killed quite a bit earlier. Within a year of meeting Dorian, I think. On that same night he and Dorian share a brief moment of intimacy, as Dorian is trying to distract him from asking about the portrait.

This is the first part of a trilogy but don't let that worry you – I have made it a point for a while now to only post stuff that is finished, so this fic is complete, as well as its sequel. You won't have to wait long for an update. However, I must ask you to please leave some feedback, as that's the only satisfaction we authors get from sweating over the keyboard ;P.

Accidental Butterflies

Introduction

Basil Hallward was having a hard time fighting down his frustration.

There was Dorian. There was the portrait. There was Harry, robbing him of Dorian's presence day by day and word by word…

And then there was Rody – a component which did not quite fit with the others.

Roderick Lewin was a young man of considerable intelligence and less considerable artistic talent. He was the son of Meryl Lewin, whose husband – a renowned doctor – had passed away a few years back. The widow was a good friend of Basil's and, as such, had managed to wrestle a promise out of him to tutor her son. He had been apprehensive at first, not thinking much of young Mr. Lewin's ability. But it had quickly become apparent that what Rody lacked in talent, he made up for in originality and enthusiasm. On certain days he could not seem to be able to paint a decent-looking flower to save his life. But that was exactly where his inventiveness began. Blurry and messy images turned into reflections in water and strange-looking flowers became even stranger-looking but rather unique butterflies. He made it all seem deliberate and it made for some interesting pictures. And if they weren't masterpieces, they were at least becoming increasingly better with Basil's tutelage. With all this creativity and his charming manners, Basil normally considered Roderick Lewin more than pleasant company. But now there was Dorian and Dorian was…everything.

Basil was well aware that he was becoming obsessed with the youth but he couldn't help it. Such exquisite beauty! He had been captured from the moment he had laid eyes on him. The blush on his cheeks, the curve of his lips… Dorian was an angel. The painter felt as if he had stumbled upon a treasure and he was reluctant to share it.

Introducing him to Harry had been a mistake but it had also been unavoidable. The problem was that Henry Watton was an enigmatic man. More so than Basil could ever hope to be. And young, innocent, impressionable Dorian had taken to him like a fish to water, much to Basil's concern.

All in all, between his student and his old friend, Basil could hardly ever get a minute with Dorian alone.

Harry wasn't there today but Rody was. Rody was always there while Dorian's portrait was being painted. He was the only person Basil was allowing to look at it before it was finished. After all, he wouldn't be much of a teacher if he didn't demonstrate the process.

Suddenly, there was a burst of laughter and the painter lifted his eyes from the canvas, startled as Dorian's melodic voice filled the room. He was laughing at something Rody had said. Basil felt a small, ridiculous stab of jealousy as he watched the two young men converse. Rody was quite handsome, although not the gleaming, startling beauty that was Dorian. His hair was a warm red-brown colour, reminiscent of autumn leaves. His eyes were a lighter brown than Basil's and his skin was slightly more tanned than was normal for England. God knew where he managed to get so much sun but it was an interesting contrast to Dorian's gentle, pale complexion. Basil noticed the two were studying each other with obvious interest and appreciation. The small stab of jealousy threatened to turn into something more. He immediately chastised himself, appalled by his own possessiveness.

It was horrible, really. He realized that even if he was to keep Dorian locked in a room with no one but him for company, his affections would most likely still not be returned in the same way. And yet… Well, one couldn't help but hope for a miracle. Especially when one was so deeply in love. Although, he thought as he watched the object of his obsession, he wasn't entirely sure what he was in love with – the man or the muse that Dorian was.

He turned his attention back to the painting, tracing the delicate lips gently with his brush while the two younger men argued over something.

"Come on, Rody, won't you at least tell me how it looks?" came Dorian's plea from across the room.

Rody rolled his eyes and stood from his seat, setting aside the sketchbook where he had been doodling one thing or another.

"You are absolutely forbidden to say anything!" Basil warned him when he felt him leaning over his shoulder to look at the picture.

"Oh, come on, Basil!" Dorian whined.

"All I will say is that he has captured you exceptionally well," Rody declared. "By which I mean it's hideous."

Once again laughter. Basil let his lips curl up. After all, these were both people he was fond of. It wouldn't do to sulk just because they were having a good time. He lifted the brush again and accidentally bumped into Rody's hand. A few drops of paint landed on the picture. He sighed in frustration.

"Now see what you made me do. I messed up the background. Thank God it's only the background. I'll have to cover with new paint and the do the shadows again."

Rody rolled his eyes.

"Oh, Basil. Do you have to be such a perfectionist? It's just three microscopic black spots on a dark green curtain, it's not like anybody is going to notice. It might have been eaten by moths. It makes it more real, if anything."

Basil shook his head, laughing in spite of himself.

"I'm not sure Dorian would want to be painted in front of a moth-eaten curtain. And it is quite clear that the spots are not meant to be there. If I don't fix them, my work will look sloppy."

"Oh, fiddlesticks! But all right then, forgive me my clumsiness, dear teacher, and let me fix it."

Basil gave him a rather skeptical look but Rody persisted.

"If I mess it up even more, you can still cover it. It's not his face after all."

"Let him do it, Basil," Dorian called from his place. "I'll be interested to see what he comes up with. As long as he doesn't paint any warts on me!"

The artist shrugged and handed the brush to his student, albeit reluctantly.

"You do seem to have a gift for turning accidents into something that works in your favor," he admitted.

Rody grinned, taking the brush. He surveyed the three spots with narrowed eyes and a few moments later tree small dark-winged butterflies hung to the curtain where the spots had been.

"Well, now no one can say they weren't meant to be there."

Basil contemplated the effect.

"What are butterflies doing in the room?"

"It's summer, Basil, they came through the window! There's a garden outside."

"Yes, Basil!" Dorian cried. "This way we'll know it was summer!"

Basil looked at them each and sighed helplessly.

"Very well then. I can't argue with you two. Accidental butterflies it is."