Even though it was dark outside, Oliver could still see Sir Artful's face. Whenever Oliver had a bad dream, he would sneak over into Jack's room and curl beside him in his bed. Two years after Fagin had died, Oliver had gotten separated from his Grandfather once more, after a freak accident involving a cart, some hay and a dozen crates of chicken. Wondering through another part of England, Oliver had pulled his weary self on the side of a stone building and had eased himself down. Master Twist was letting misery streak down his dirty face and for a moment, the usual innocent and hopeful boy was wallowing in his bad fortune. Over his soft sobs, the young boy heard a scuffle of feet right in front of him, and he looked up. After clearing his fuzzy eyes to see whom it was, he gasped. Standing there in all his top-hatted glory, was the Artful Dodger. Said boy flashed the previous a small smile as he held out a hand to the boy. "Hullo, my covey! What's the row?"
And with that, the boys started cackling at the sheer irony of the moment. It was impromptu and uncalled for, but they laughed the pain and awkwardness away, and all of the sadness and anger and blames and regret into the air until it disappeared and all things were in the past. After all of that, at the end of the day (as it was morning when the two boys reconnected), Oliver was with his beloved Grandfather and Rose once more. In gratitude, Mr. Brownlow allowed the Dodger to stay with them for the night, which therein turned to permanent residence.
But that was months ago and all jolly and gay, but now it was nighttime and Sir Twist was afraid. Badly afraid. He had always had a strong distaste for the night. His mother died at night. The whole Sykes Fiasco happened at night as well. And most importantly, Nancy was murdered at night.
Not the most happy of memories.
The day time was better. He found Mr. Brownlow in the day. He met Fagin's gang during the day, whither that was good or bad, Oliver has yet to decide. And… He met Dodger in the day. The day was definitely better, he has decided.
It was because of Dodger that he was now in a loving home with a family, and Oliver would be forever grateful to him for that. He was grateful of Dodger for a lot of things. Teaching him to be brave, giving him something to live for, and giving him someone to love.
Yeah, Oliver loved him. How couldn't he? The sleeping 'gentleman' before him let out a ragged snore as he unconsciously batted his snubbed nose with a dirty hand. Oliver snickered at the small spectacle before him, before he hesitantly swiped a dark swirl off of the Artful's closed eye, and then bit his lip to see if his elder would awaken.
The young Twist boy sighed loudly and then snuggled close into the crook of Dawkin's neck. Grandfather didn't know how Oliver felt about their guest yet. But Oliver couldn't wait to tell him! He knew that Grandfather would be happy for them. But only after Oliver tells Dodger how he feels could he tell one of his only living relatives the truth.
But when should he…? It has to be the right time. Perfection only. And oo! Maybe, when he tells Dodge how he feels, Dodger'll pull Oliver close, whisper likewise sentiment and… And, dare he say, kiss him? A happy giggle burst from the young man's lips but in a moment, his hands clasped them. Oops.
Oliver watched Dodger's face a bit more in anticipation but he didn't wake up. Oh well…. The young blonde tilted his head to the side for a moment as he noticed something in his surroundings. It was getting lighter. That meant soon it would be daytime! And—oh! That's when! Sometime in the morning Oliver will tell him. But maybe not this morning, since he wouldn't want to rush in. He needs to plan this. Should he get his beloved a flower? But what kind of flower?
He wished he had someone to talk to about this, but he doesn't. The only people are his Grandfather and the boy asleep in front of him. Except… Rose! He'll ask Ms. Rose of her opinion later today.
With that decision in mind, Oliver slowly closed his eyes in contention, but did not fall asleep. He just lay there, snuggled in his soon-to-be lover's arms and thought of all the happiness and good moments that will occur between them. After half of forever, though it was full light outside and Oliver had to pull away before the maid came in to pull open the curtains.
Actually…. Oliver glanced at the window and then back at Jack with a growing smile. Eagerly, the blonde jetted up and threw open the room-darkening shades and then walked back to the boy in bed.
Dawkins was still in sleep but was scrunching his eyes from the sudden spew of sunlight on his face. "Wake up, love, the sun has come to greet you!" Oliver gently shook Dodger's shoulder. The young boy's heart leapt at what he had said. 'Love'. Would Jack notice? Would he be okay with it?
Maybe he'd just open his eyes and smile at him, commenting on it. Oliver would blush and explain himself and then they'd hug and everything would be great!
Instead of that scenario, though, the pickpocket threw his eyes open and glared at the lad above him. "Nolly, 'et the 'ell away frum me an' shut the c'rtains bef're I get a knife and gut you like a fish." The dark-haired youth managed to grumble before he turned away from the shocked blonde and jerked the blankets around him.
Oliver sighed. Okay…. Maybe next time it'd go like he planned.