Oswald often watched and wondered about Jack's hair. He always watched Jack as he moved, eyes trailing up from his legs, to his hips, to the top of that braid, and back down again. He wondered what that golden hair was like out of that incredibly long braid. He had once tried to undo said braid, but Jack had slapped his hand away. So, Oswald concocted a plan...and it was one he was sure wouldn't fail.

It was the dead of night, and Oswald was silently creeping to Jack's bedroom. He knew the Vessalius was asleep as he could hear said noble's snores. The Baskerville rolled his eyes and silently opened the door to Jack's bedroom. As quiet as a mouse, he tip toed over to the emerald eyed man's canopy bed and pulled away the emerald bed hangings. Jack was sleeping peacefully, eyes gently closed. His hands were folded across his chest like a mummy. 'Or an angel.' Oswald thought with what must've been the ghost of a smile.

Jack's braid trailed across the silken pillows like a shining, soft rope. Impulsively, Oswald reached for the light coloured plait his beloved always wore and hastily undid it. The Vessalius' blonde hair tumbled in waves down to the floor like spun gold. Oswald gasped silently. His lover was (if possible) even more beautiful like this than with his hair all neatly done up.

Jack's fair locks were a bit of a mess as said man moved quite a bit in his sleep, but Oswald didn't care. It was still beautiful to him. No matter how many mistakes he had made, Jack would always be beautiful to him.