Dawson pulled back from the kiss with a gasp, needing air, even though he didn't want to pull away.
It had been six months since that first meeting with the infamous Basil of Baker Street, and things had definitely gone in an unexpected, but not altogether unwelcome, direction.
It had started not long after he had moved into 221 ½ B Baker Street with Basil, shortly after their first official case together. He had learned more about the brilliant, insane mouse he was pleased to call a friend, but soon found his feelings ran deeper.
Every incidental touch, every smile (which only Dawson seemed to receive), every laugh…it showed Dawson another side to the brilliant mouse, one that others didn't see, and it made him fall. Hard.
He had shoved the feelings away, in the beginning, passing them off as nothing more than friendship. Then, two months ago, a particularly beautiful female client had made her interest in Basil clear. That wasn't very surprising, as Basil was a very handsome and eligible mouse, even with his oddities. What surprised Dawson was how angry he was at the client, and how relieved he was when Basil expressed no interest in return. Stunned, Dawson contemplated that his feelings for his friend and fellow lodger ran deeper than he had previously assumed.
He made some excuse to Basil (who had looked at him worriedly when Dawson suddenly blanched), and hurried upstairs to his room, shutting the door behind him and leaning against it. He was attracted to Basil! More than that…he liked him, possibly loved him!
Dawson stumbled toward his bed, sitting heavily and burying his face in his paws. What was he going to do? He had known that males could be attracted to each other (he was a doctor after all), but he had never been a deviant. Other males did nothing for him, although simply picturing Basil sent shivers through him that he had previously thought only females could evoke.
He would have likely sat there castigating himself forever, had Basil not come up to see what was bothering him. It only took one glance for the detective to see everything, and before Dawson could blink he was in Basil's arms.
"My dear Dawson," Basil murmured, "I had hoped…"
Dawson looked at his friend, and saw love in his eyes, love for Dawson! He gulped as he said, "You…you…?"
"Care for you?" Basil asked, nuzzling his nose into Dawson's fur, "Yes, quite. I have for some time."
"Why did you never say anything?" Dawson asked.
"For the same reason that you would have never told me where your affections lie," Basil said simply, and Dawson could only nod before Basil pulled him into a soft, sweet kiss.
It had been four months, and in that time they had done nothing but kiss. Dawson was nervous, as he had never done anything of the sort with a man, and Basil, while experienced, didn't want to push Dawson. He was willing to wait until the other mouse was ready.
Another reason for Dawson's hesitance came to the forefront as Basil began to undo the buttons of his waistcoat, the jacket long since discarded. Once the waistcoat, collar, cuffs, and braces were gone, Basil started on his shirt. As he reached for the first button, Dawson pulled away. Basil's hands fell to his sides.
"I'm sorry Dawson," Basil said, regret in his tone. "I misread the situation."
Dawson shook his head. "I would like to continue Basil, I would, but…"
"But…?" Basil prompted.
Dawson sighed. "I'm not…attractive," he muttered, looking at the ground. He was rounder than Basil, not to mention the scars on his shoulder and thigh from the war. Basil was perfect. He was slim, and more than likely had nary a scar to mar his fur.
"Oh Dawson," Basil sighed, "You underestimate yourself once again." Before Dawson could protest, Basil held up a paw. "I am not perfect either my friend."
Before Dawson could ask, Basil swiftly shed his clothes. Standing there, bared to Dawson's eyes in the lamplight, Dawson couldn't see what Basil meant. He was flawless, just as Dawson had expected, and it just made the older mouse feel worse.
Basil took one of Dawson's paws and moved it to his forearm, pressing it down into the fur. Dawson frowned as he felt the marks, before looking up at his friend. "Basil…"
"It is an old habit, and one that I discontinued shortly after we met," Basil said, looking away, "But it did not leave me free of scars. Do you find me less attractive because of them?"
"No, of course not," Dawson protested, causing Basil to look up with a small smile.
"Then why would you assume I would love you any less because of your scars?" When Dawson had no answer, Basil stepped forward and pulled him into a gentle kiss. "Come love. Let me show you how beautiful I think you are."
And he did. Basil worshipped Dawson's body, making him arch, cry out, and claw at the sheets. Basil was relentless, mercilessly teasing him with his skillful fingers and tongue.
"You are beautiful David," Basil murmured, "And you should never believe otherwise."
Dawson couldn't protest. Basil was looking at him with abject adoration. He didn't see the disgust or pity he had expected. Rather, Basil was looking at him with love, affection, and respect. Exactly as he always did, only the emotions seemed stronger now.
"Do you believe me?" Basil asked, pulling back to sit on his heels. "Do you believe that I love you, that you are beautiful, and I will always find you attractive?"
"Yes," Dawson breathed, reaching out for his lover, who allowed him to pull him close. "Yes, I believe you Basil. And I love you as well."
Those were the last words spoken that night, but neither minded.