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Part 2 - Counting Sheep

Fagin's houseboat remained calm and uneventful, for the most part. Fagin had fallen asleep in his airplane seat, Rita paced and wandered aimlessly about the large cabin, Einstein slumbered deeply in his cubby, Francis assumed his familiar position in front of the television, and Tito sat in front of him, trying desperately to enjoy the Franz Schubert documentary Francis had on PBS, at a loss for a different pastime. The droning, hypnotic din of raindrops pummeling the tarp that covered the massive hole in the roof naturally had set them all in a quieter and mellower mood than usual, even as a slight feeling of unrest hung in the air. It was around 10:00, and Dodger hadn't yet returned when they had expected him back around 7:00 at the very latest. It wasn't terribly unusual for Dodger (or any of them for that matter) to run into a snag during their chores, and subsequently remain absent for a couple hours longer than expected, as their home was quite a ways from where they normally operated. Realizing this, none of them were worried, per se. But as with any family, they just couldn't help naturally feeling slightly unsettled when one of them was absent for much longer than usual. Not to mention - Dodger had their dinner... hopefully.

Yet again, their luck had seemingly somewhat ebbed over the course of the past month or so. For one thing, they had picked up very little in the way of loot. They had finished up the last of the dog chow about a week before, and Fagin's margin for spending had all but run dry, meaning he was unable to supply more. It wasn't anything of a foreign situation to the dogs. It just meant that they had more scavenging to do during the day in order to eat, but the streets definitely weren't nearly as dependable a source of nourishment as the ever-gracious supermarket. As a result, they ate very little and stayed hungry some days. It never got so bad that they had to worry about starving or malnourishment, but let's just say that none of them had to worry about getting fat, either.

Tito yawned deeply, his level of boredom astounding even him. "Man, do we really gotta watch this, Franky?" Francis' eyes didn't stray from the TV.

"Right now, it's all that will come in clearly. And nobody has said that you have to watch it." Tito looked at Francis with apparent annoyance.

"Man, you expect me to believe that, Franky, you love this stuff, man!"

"Good grief..." growled Francis.

"You know, you REALLY should find a hobby besides harassing me while I'm trying to watch television. One would think it would have lost its thrill by now."

"Yeah, and maybe you should find a hobby besides torturing everyone with this crap you like to call 'television.' Man, why don't you actually watch some television once in a while, man?" Tito retorted smugly.

"Uggh..." Francis tried to ignore Tito. Tito ultimately decided to disengage and search for entertainment elsewhere. Honestly, he wasn't really in a fighting mood. He was tired, hungry, bored, and restless.

"Man, I'm starved. I wonder where Dodger's at," he said for what felt like the tenth time for the evening as he wandered away from the television. He circled around the room once before he was met by the standing form of Rita.

"Well, there's no point sitting around here like we have for the past two hours. We might as well tidy up this pigsty at least a little." She looked around at the great variety of articles of garbage that littered the room. Old newspapers, rubbish, socks, various toys, fidgets and knick knacks, and empty dog food bags, just to begin with. The residents had the tendency to let their home collect garbage until it became more apparent that something needed to be done.

"Ehhh..." Tito growled indifferently. He didn't like cleaning (nor did anyone else) but it needed doing at some point, and now seemed like as good a time as any. He sluggishly picked up an empty Doritos bag and made for the large bin in the corner, but no sooner than when he started walking, however, he saw what he recognized as Dodger's tail begin to round the corner at the top of the staircase, and also recognized the scent of another canine, prompting Tito to drop and forget the rubbish where he stood.

"Hey, man, Dodger's back! Hey Dodger, who'dja bring, huh? Who'd ya bring, man?" Tito bounced excitedly around the bottom of the stairs upon seeing Dodger. Dodger dropped Bolt's collar for a brief moment to answer. "I'll tell ya in a minute. Give me a paw, will ya? Hold his head so he doesn't hit it on the stairs." He grabbed Bolt's collar and started moving again. Both of them were dripping wet, and Dodger wanted desperately to shake. "Alright, man!" Tito ran up the stairs and wriggled himself under Bolt's snout, moving down the stairs slowly with him. Bolt's head was almost as big as Tito, Dodger remarked humorously. Once they reached the bottom, Tito gently lowered Bolt's head to the floor, shaking off the water he had inherited from Bolt's body, and Dodger began moving him towards his bed, leaving small puddles of water in their wake.

"Why is he wearing your scarf?" Rita asked as he walked. She grinned when she saw Dodger lay Bolt next to his own bed before draping him with one of his own blankets. Dodger also noticed the severely eroded state of the body paint on Bolt's side.

"'Cause he busted his head open," he answered.

"Oh, Dodge," Rita admired affectionately. "When did you become so generous and compassionate?" Dodger blushed slightly under his fur before shaking out his sopping body, throwing droplets of liquid every which way. "I try," he said, and the two of them laid on the floor after he daubed at Bolt's fur a bit with the blanket before discarding it to the side. Soon they were joined by Tito and Francis.

"So, Dodger, didja bring any food, man?" Tito said with half-enthusiasm, but utter disappointment still managed to surface on his visage. He already knew the answer, as Dodger clearly had none. Still, he was hungry enough to double check.

"I... ah..." Dodger stammered, before coming to a head-smacking realization. "Ahhhh, I left it in an alleyway," he growled, irritated and embarrassed. He had been gone for nine hours, give or take, and come back having only an injured shepherd to show for it. Tito and Francis' disappointment showed through apparently in their faces. "Man, Dodger, what did you..."

"Shut up, Tito." Tito was cut off by Rita. She looked over her shoulder to where Bolt slept. "He was obviously busy," she said, her awestruck sense of respect for Dodger beaming through in her voice. She looked at Dodger and saw his irate and dejected expression. "Don't worry, hun, we can just wait 'til tomorrow." Tito continued to grumble under his breath. "Yeah..." said Dodger.

"So what happened?" asked Rita. The question had been itching to be asked since Dodger came in, and it was echoed immediately by Tito.

"Yeah, Dodger, man tell us what happened!" Tito interrogated fervently. "Woah... long story. You ready for it?" A chorus of nods. "Alright, first off, does this pooch look the slightest bit familiar to anyone?" The three others craned their necks and squinted their eyes in Bolt's direction, trying to place a name on him. Rita seemed to have come up empty after a few moments, but Francis was the first to speak.

"Yes, he does look strangely familiar, I must admit." He concluded.

"Yeah, man, he looks like that superdog guy Bolt, man" said Tito.

"Well... that's because he is," explained Dodger. Tito's eyes grew wide, and he snapped his head to get another look at the dog in question.

"No, way man!" he said with a goofy starstruck grin on his muzzle. Francis looked at Bolt again, and his eyes grew wider, as well. "No. Really? This dog is the famed face behind the eponymous television show?" He looked at Dodger with a mixture of skepticism and shock.

"Hey, you're right, man, that's the super guy from that show, man!!" Tito mused, incredibly enamored to simply be in the presence of what he understood to be the most prominent canine figure in the US.

"So what's he doing here?" Rita wondered aloud as Tito got up to prod at and study Bolt more closely.

"I have no idea, but he's completely clueless. He's under the impression that what he does in his show is all real, and it seems to me like this is his first time out of the studio." "Good heavens," said Francis with apparent condemnation in his expression, presumably directed towards the Hollywood executives, while Rita shook her head disapprovingly.

"Yeah, I know." Dodger concurred, that feeling of pity for Bolt as well as loathing for those responsible for his situation began to well in his chest again. Rita looked at Bolt with sympathy in her eyes.

"Poor thing. He's a cutie, though." she chuckled. Definitely, Dodger agreed silently, gritting his teeth again. He snapped back to continue his monologue.

"So I was strolling down 8th Street, on the hunt once again, scanning vigilantly for any sign that could indicate opportunity," he began theatrically and articulately, moving his paw in a panning gesture in front of his eyes to illustrate. Tito scoffed as his stomach growled, now busy sniffing Bolt's tail. Finally he rejoined the circle with the others as Dodger continued.

"Now, the streets are packed. The weather is flawless, and I'm not the only one lookin' to pay a visit to the street vendors. After walking through five blocks of pure chaotic mess, completely devoid of reward..." he paused, squinting past them as if something had caught his eye. Tito briefly snapped his head in the same direction. "...I see this truck. It's parked in front of a butcher shop. But I'm not alone, so I need an extra set of paws." He gestured to Bolt with a subtle jerk of his head, a slight humorous smirk on his face. "I found him in the park with his head stuck in the handrail." Tito snorted and cackled while Rita and Francis grinned. Reverting to a decidedly more serious tone, Dodger continued. "He was exhausted, and frenzied to say the least. In his reality, the villain of his show, that is 'The Green-Eyed Man,' had abducted his person, and he was clueless as to where he was or how he got there."

"Mm." Rita shook her head as she expressed her pity.

"He did a great job in aiding with a standard two-dog Smash and Grab procedure on this meat truck, and we proceeded north to an alley where we could eat and discuss getting him back to Hollywood. We..."

"Yeah, man you had enough to share with the celebrity but couldn't remember to look out for your regular paisanos..." Tito lamented, still embittered and hungry, receiving vicious glares from Rita. Dodger still felt guilty for his carelessness, but he tired of being redundantly villainized.

"Alright, there, mister perfect, you've had your puppy-tantrum, and now if you don't mind, the grown-ups would like to have their story-time now," he replied loudly and smugly, articulating the second part plainly and carefully so that a child could comprehend. Tito had opened his mouth to return fire, but turned to scowl at Francis upon hearing his deep laughter. Dodger, feeling pleased with his wit, went on. "We talked for a bit. Well... a few hours to be more exact. And after a while, I decided that withholding what I knew to be true from him wasn't right. So I tried to break it to him easy. Regardless, as expected he was confused and somewhat unwilling to listen."

"Oh, I bet," said Rita grimly.

"Well," said Dodger. "He didn't have much time to think." He paused. "So I'm sitting there, watching him think, and all of a sudden I can tell that he sees something. His eyes grow wide. Swiftly he jumps to his feet, and cries out the name of his person. 'Penny.' Without warning, and with the agility of a trained Hollywood stunt actor, he jumps on top of a taxi before hurling himself and dashing his head into the front of a semi."

"Oooh!" Tito inhaled sharply and cringed. "Man, that hurts to think about, man." The four of them turned to observe Bolt with his head trauma, tightly wrapped with the red scarf.

"Is he gonna be okay, Dodge?" asked Rita worriedly.

"I'm sure he'll be fine. I've seen dogs take nastier blows and come to without a problem. It's painful and scary, but not terribly serious." This was true, and Dodger knew it, but it didn't change the fact that he would feel better by volumes if Bolt would just wake up. He stood up and came to Bolt's side to re-examine the injury when Tito chimed in.

"Hehe, Hey, Dodger, man (hehe) remember that time you just ran right into that parking meter, man? Ahooo!" He howled. Francis laughed deeply, and Rita smiled broadly, fighting a little to suppress laughter. "Hey, guys, be nice! (snort) that could have been bad!" she giggled. Dodger smiled. That had definitely been embarrassing if not painful, but there was no denying its comic value. A couple of months earlier, the gang had been running down the sidewalk when Dodger, obviously being somewhat short of attentive, simply bashed his head against a meter. He, too had been knocked unconscious. "That was classic," laughed Francis reminiscently as Dodger began to unwind the scarf that was wrapped over Bolt's head and under his jaw. Slipping one of his digits under the knot before gently working it out, he unwrapped it and laid it to the side. There was some blood in it, but it wasn't the first time he had utilized it medically. Upon examining the wound, Dodger saw some dry blood in the fur, with a dark maroon stripe standing out against the white fur on Bolt's cheek. He ran his paw gently through the matted part of Bolt's fur to find the actual laceration, and found that he was no longer pumping out fresh blood, thanks in part to Dodger's commendable medical experience. He also determined that Bolt had dried off enough to lie on his bed. Taking Bolt's collar in his teeth, Dodger stepped backwards over his bed, allowing Bolt to follow in his wake and come to rest on top before letting go. Sighing, he turned around to see Rita grinning again, while Francis dragged himself back towards the television, which was just audible over the storm, and Tito followed. Rita said nothing, and didn't move. She just smiled knowingly at Dodger, and he stared back at her, waiting to hear what she could possibly have to say.

"What?" asked Dodger after a few moments, hot blood quickly rushing into his ears as he blushed under his fur. Rita cast a gaze that would seemingly intend to translate into 'You know damn well what.'

"Now, where are you going to sleep tonight, Dodgie?" she chortled instead. "On the floor, I suppose," answered Dodger, trying to sound as indifferent and normal as possible, if not flat out playing dumb. "I mean, that's where Francis and Tito usually sleep, anyways." Rita chuckled. "Alright, fair enough I guess." She slid her paws forward, stretching her back before yawning deeply. "Well, I'm going to bed. 'Night Dodge." With that, Rita left Dodger with one last convicting, yet friendly smirk. "'Night," Dodger half-mumbled, still blushing a bit. Dodger and Rita went way back, and she was no fool. In fact, she was by far the smartest dog that Dodger knew as far as he was concerned. Not only that, but she unquestionably knew Dodger better than anyone at all. She hardly knew Dodger less than she knew herself. To say the least, Rita knew that Dodger knew that she knew what was going on, and he knew it. It didn't bother him terribly, either, due in part to how close he and she were.

His attention then turned to the sleeping form of Einstein, who hadn't moved or made a sound since he had gotten back. It really was amazing how...

...His train of thought was suddenly interrupted by a low groan, calling his attention from the direction of his bed. Snapping his head to the right, eyes wide and ears erect, he saw Bolt, stirring and stretching against the blankets, eyes still clamped shut, and with a slight grimace on his face. His heart leaping, Dodger urgently turned to the other three canines.

"Hey, guys!" he quietly shouted, moving towards the bed. "I think he's waking up!" Rita, who hadn't quite lain down yet suddenly jerked her head to look, before making her way to meet back with Dodger.

"Alright, man!" Tito flew past Rita and started to hyperactively hop and dance around Dodger's bed. Finally, Francis started to move as Bolt's eyes finally blinked and twitched open dully.

"Tito!" Dodger hissed and glowered at the excited Chihuahua, who didn't even seem to hear. Bolt lifted his head sluggishly and began to make a feeble attempt to take in his surroundings.

"I... what....... I........ did we..... where..." he began to mutter stupidly, but was interrupted when Tito tactlessly wrapped an arm around his neck.

"Hey, man, the movie star's awake, hahaha!" he snickered, ruffling the fur on Bolt's head, which happened to be painfully tender. "Hey... Owowow Ow Ow, geddoff, gah..." Bolt cringed and swung a paw uncoordinatedly at Tito, but ended up collapsing on his chest mid-swing onto the floor in front of Dodger's bed as Tito jumped back.

"TITO!" hissed Rita aggressively.

"Uhh, my bad, man," said Tito, looking at Bolt shamefaced and feeling a bit stupid. Bolt laid on his side with his eyes clenched shut and paws draped over his head, stricken with pathetic agony.

"Ow...... Ow........ Ow........" he continued to whimper. The three others simply hung over him, wishing that they could do something to alleviate him, especially Dodger.

"Just relax, guy. It'll feel better before too long, but you gotta relax," he said. Moving his head very slightly and not one other muscle, Bolt opened his eyes slightly and had to exert a great amount of effort to look at and focus on Dodger. With a throbbing head, almost no energy, blurred vision, half-dead wit and still not sure what was going on, it took Bolt quite a few seconds before he recognized him.... That dog he met..... that one time..... in..... somewhere?

"You...." was all that Bolt could manage, before continuing to move his eyes around the room... or at least what seemed to be a room from what he could tell. He used his strength to roll back over on his belly, before allowing his paws and legs to feebly carry him upwards as he attempted to stand. Before he could take a step, however, he felt all the feeling in his body suddenly rush into his temples, exploding in pain and making his legs falter instantly as he hit the ground with a loud 'thud' and clamped his paws over his head again. "GAAAAAAH!!!! Mmmmmfwhatthe...." He snarled his discomfort as he fell, making everyone flinch slightly.

"Don't try to move, kid, just lie down and try to relax for a while..." Rita's voice held the softness and compassion of a mother as she repeated Dodger's advice. Bolt obeyed, remaining on his side and moving only his eyes to find Rita, who was only visible in his peripheral vision.

The four resident canines stood awkwardly around Bolt, unable to do anything productive to help. Dodger worried that it might make it even harder for Bolt to adjust. "Call if you need me," said Francis, slinking back to the television as if he had had the same notion. Figuring he had nothing more to contribute, Tito followed, leaving only Dodger and Rita, who both laid down facing Bolt, who had his eyes clenched shut again. Without opening them or moving, he sniffed in the direction that he faced... and recognized the unique scent of a certain canine. As slightly as he dared, Bolt opened his eyes to see a predominantly white canine, with brown markings on his face and back. Though Bolt's vision still wasn't clear,it had improved over the past couple of minutes. Beside him, however, lay a much darker colored canine, whom Bolt was fairly certain he had not seen before. From scent, he could tell that she was female.

"Bolt, this is my friend, Rita," Dodger articulated slowly so Bolt could register in his state of confusion.

"Oh..." acknowledged Bolt. Rita who? He felt like he should know... He was beginning to get a better grasp on the white dog, slowly recognizing him better and better as time progressed. D-... Dod... Dudley? No... Dogger? What?? No! Doggy? Okay, Boltie, enough stupid, think... D-... Dodger. Yeah, that was it. Dodger.

"Dodger," Bolt addressed him aloud with a hoarse, weak and labored voice.

"Hey," Dodger beamed, glad that Bolt was steadily becoming more lucid, and even more delighted at how he bothered to remember him.

"Dodger... Wha- What happened?" He felt unable to clearly recall the recent events leading up to his current state. He didn't think he recognized his surroundings either- the cool, dark and humid room smelled... completely foreign. Bolt got the feeling that something significant had taken place, and that he was very far from his trailer...

"You took a nasty header into that truck- Scared the hell outta me," Dodger explained gravely.

"But I-" Bolt began to recall... That truck. Penny... Suddenly his eyes became lively as he was struck with a sense of urgency. "Penny..." he exclaimed weakly, making an honest effort to sit up, but was cut short by an acute pulse of pain in his temples followed by a numbing spell of blindness, and the gentle touch of a large paw on his shoulder help to ease him back down.

"She's fine, I promise, but you have to relax," said the kind male voice that Bolt now recognized as Dodger. Once again, Bolt resigned to his incapacity, closing his eyes and resting his throbbing head on the floor, still struggling to grasp full consciousness. Things were very slowly becoming more clear... the more he heard Dodger's voice the more he recognized his unique tone and accent. His heart sank when he began to recall a certain conversation that they had... the one regarding his... show... He quickly shoved that thought to the side, even knowing apprehensively that he would have to face it later. Suddenly he felt the large paw nudge his shoulder again. "You still awake?" He heard Dodger ask with a concerned tone.

"Mm..." Bolt groaned his acknowledgment, having little extra energy for speech. When groaned, he could feel an uncomfortable burning sensation at the back of his throat that he didn't recognize, and it made him uneasy. The more he felt it though, the more he knew what he wanted.

"Water..." he requested hoarsely. He didn't need to ask twice, as he heard the female dog stand swiftly, and no more than a few seconds later he heard her returning footsteps, followed by an assuring clunk. He blinked his eyes open to have his vision filled with a dingy metal bowl waiting for him in front of his nose. As best he could while collapsed on his side, he gripped the floorboards with his hind pads and claws and heaved forward just enough for his muzzle to lie beside the bowl before feebly lifting his chin. He lazily plopped his nose onto the edge of the water dish, making it nearly tip over before he saw a large grey paw smack down on the other side, preventing it from tipping on Bolt's face. With Dodger now holding the dish to the floor for him, Bolt lapped thirstily at the sloshing liquid while resting his muzzle on the rim, grateful for the excellent service. The more he drank, the more he realized just how thirsty he was, and before he realized it, he found that he had his face buried in the bowl with his tongue dragging along the bottom, sucking up the last few drops that it had to offer.

"Do you need more, hun?" Bolt heard the soft female voice offer graciously. Bolt considered it as his head slid back to the floor, but concluded that not only had his thirst been quenched, but his head had also already calmed a bit, if only slightly.

"No, thank you," he said, catching his breath after such a long drink. He actually felt like he might be able to sit up. "Where am I?" Bolt had been meaning to ask since he came to, but had taken a while to summon the energy to bother.

"I was wondering when you would ask," Dodger chuckled coolly. "This is where we reside. You're on the barge, pup," He proudly announced as Bolt's eyes rolled around, examining as much of the common room as possible while the rest of his body lay still. "You should stay here at least tonight... maybe longer if needed," Dodger added hopefully. "You can sleep on my bed."

"Thanks..." Bolt didn't had no desire to argue. No 'Oh, the floor's fine for me, you don't have to do that' or 'I don't want to impose.' He should really be very grateful. Also, Bolt knew that he wouldn't be staying after tonight, even if he didn't want to hurt Dodger's feelings by saying so. Penny assumed top priority as always, even if Dodger seemed to believe that she wasn't in danger.

Bolt felt an anxious pang in his stomach as he was reminded of his last conversation with Dodger... The fact that Bolt was lying utterly disabled on the floor of his home didn't serve to make him feel very powerful, either... he rolled over on his other side and curled up slightly so he could get a look at his mark of power.

Bolt's head finally left the floor as he gasped in horror at the sight in front of him... he felt like he had been shot in the chest when he looked. The mark... it... it was almost like it had... washed out! All that remained was... was... almost nothing. It looked as though there was only a discolored patch of fur over his ribcage. Unable to believe what he saw, he scrubbed it with a pawpad... and the color looked like it had rubbed off on his paw. As he stared at his paw in disbelief, he thought he might cry. His heart jumped when he felt a paw on his shoulder.

"You alright?" Dodger's soothing voice also held a tone of solemn concern, as though he knew what had Bolt upset.

"I... I..." Bolt stuttered, too appalled for coherent speech. Finally, he resigned to the reality before him, setting his paw down and sighing grimly. "Yeah," he lied, choking back tears. He tried guiding his mind elsewhere in an attempt to forget what he had just seen. "You're sitting up, now," Dodger pointed out in an attempt to help Bolt think positively. "Yeah," he said, trying to sound happy about it. "Amazing what a bit of water can do. Well, I'm tired and I'm going to bed. 'Night," and with that, Bolt stood feebly, his knees trembling as he stumbled back onto Dodger's bed, grunting as he did so and immediately shutting his eyes.

"'Night..." Dodger was a bit taken aback at the abrupt nature of Bolt's resignation. If Dodger didn't know any better, Bolt's tone would have seemed straight-up rude and borderline passive aggressive. But Dodger did know better.

Now Dodger noticed that Rita had also retreated into her own sleeping place while he wasn't watching. Francis continued to sit stone-faced in front of the TV, and he found Tito looking towards him with inquisitive eyes, but they whipped back towards the television as soon as their gazes met.

"'Night, guys," Dodger called. "'Night," they called back in unison. With that, Dodger snatched a large pillow from one of the various junkpiles about the room that he could curl up on for the night. The cushion was considered to be multi-purpose... Any one of the dogs might use it at one point or another, whether for an object to take into their teeth and whip around violently when they were feeling rowdy and excited or hot and bothered, or just another plush article to snuggle with. Tonight, it would be Dodger's bed.

As Dodger began to close his eyes, he thought to himself, as one always does when turning in for the night. Bolt hadn't left Dodger so hastily to be rude, obviously. Bolt had been incredibly appalled and upset when he noticed the state of his body paint, and Dodger fully understood why.

Maybe Bolt didn't want Dodger to see him cry... Maybe he just wanted nothing more than to be alone... Or, maybe he desperately wanted to lose consciousness again in an effort to escape harsh reality.

Well, he would get over that. He had to realize that his revelation was a blessing... He didn't have to put up with those damn Hollywood fat-cats anymore. He could love his person without losing sleep over what would happen to her the next day...

Bolt was leaving. He was going back to Penny, and to try to convince him otherwise would be wrong. Dodger had nearly successfully circumnavigated this topic of thought since he had arrived back home. Now Dodger found himself desperately trying to force his way past the borders of consciousness... seemingly for the same reason as Bolt- he was running away from reality. Okay, stop thinking and fall asleep, Dodger. Count sheep or something. Yeah, that usually works pretty well. Just don't think about Bolt right now or you'll never get to sleep.

It was the first time Dodger had ever counted sheep.

As Dodger opened his eyes, the TV came to his attention first, continuing to blare in the corner. When he lifted his head to investigate, he felt a sharp twinge behind his eye sockets, blinking and squinting from the sudden discomfort. Groaning, he came to his feet shakily, stumbling groggily in the direction of the rude, flickering television. Dammit, Francis, turn it off before you go to sleep... Currently lacking the ability to open his eyes fully, as well as the ability to see or stand straight, Dodger leaned against the box, fumbling for the power switch. He slid his paw haphazardly about the frame of the TV, failing to recall where the button panel was located. '...which is why I think the prime minister is inevitably going to deny any-' CLICK. '...just like that time Quagmire had to get his-' CLICK. Silence, and success. Sighing, Dodger dragged himself back to his pillow, where he collapsed comfortably and stretched slightly. After some time, he raised himself on his forearms, looking around the room as his brain began to reboot. Morning? No... everyone still slept, except for him. Francis had obviously passed out in front of the TV... Rita's paw poked out from under a flap of her improvised canopy... Fagin snored deeply... It was dark... Still raining... Early morning? Dodger didn't feel like he had been asleep for very long... and it occurred to him to look at the clock for confirmation. At the moment, the ancient timepiece showed 1:23. Strange. Dodger rarely woke in the middle of the night. He strained his eyes in order to discern the movement of the clock's second hand - Moving, as usual. It really did seem supernatural how the old rusted Coca-Cola diner clock still managed to function. It must have been... god, at least fifty years old. It had hung there on the wall for at least as long as Dodger had lived with Fagin... and knowing Fagin, it had probably been yanked out of a junkheap somewhere.

Dodger rolled over and sprawled out lazily on his back, laying a paw over his chest. Gazing up at the half-rotten ceiling, he mused over the previous several hours. Man... it had to have been a dream. Except it wasn't, though. Rolling his head to one side, he plainly saw Bolt sleeping in his- Dodger's bed. Bolt lay with his back to Dodger, and other than the gentle expansion and contraction of his midsection, he lay completely still. A modest bar of fluorescent light protruded from the slightly ajar bathroom door nearby, and landed across Bolt's shoulders. It made for a good night-light and illuminated the area significantly if your eyes were adjusted to the darkness. Dodger looked back at the ceiling pensively, twirling and fidgeting with the fur on his chest. Little more than twelve hours ago... well... that was a little more than twelve hours ago. Quite simply, Dodger couldn't believe that at one time... well, it made him feel weird to think about a different time. Dodger just felt so... he didn't know. Different, that's for sure. Almost like a different dog. Like he had been bumped into another reality... like a dream. A very lucid dream that he wished wouldn't end. But for the life of him, he couldn't put his paw on exactly what was different. He almost could... so close... but not quite. Whatever it could be, it had something to do with Bolt. Laying there on his back, thinking introspectively, trying to decode his feelings... every path that his mind took... ended back with Bolt.

In this alternate reality, Dodger felt secure. Comfortable. Warm. Happy. Peaceful. Truly carefree. These emotions affected him physically, too... he felt fantastic. He felt like the healthiest dog in the world. Of course, he had no reason at all to feel carefree. Bolt couldn't stay... he would probably be gone within the next day. Then what? Dodger knew that he couldn't expect Bolt to just forget Penny in order to stay... and the reality that Dodger couldn't continue to be with Bolt should have theoretically created a physically sickening sense of dread. It was just that... in that moment, no matter how much he dreaded Bolt's future absence in his mind, his mind couldn't make his body feel the same way. Holy shit. Bolt's presence effectively fooled him into feeling irrationally great - and Dodger knew it.

He couldn't be sure what to think about that. As previously concluded, the situation he would inevitably face warranted nothing less than dread, which obviously was the bad news. No matter how he felt about it at the moment, that was bad news. Besides, mentally, Dodger had been shot. He felt like someone had taken his brain out, run it through a blender, and poured it back in. Everything he knew... everything he was... had been flipped upside down when he met Bolt.

Well, there was no point in talking with himself about it any further. He knew that he would continue to end with the same indefinite, nonsensical conclusion.

His mind continued to swirl around Bolt. Dodger replayed a few of the scenes from earlier in the day - Bolt's frenzied state when they had first met. Sharing lunch, and sharing their lives with one another in the alleyway. Tenderly nursing Bolt's injuries underneath the clouded sky... Sinking into a deep sleep, face to face with the white shepherd in the ethereal evening glow... Feeling his cool, soft breath on his moist nose. It felt wonderfully surreal, the whole thing.

Dodger felt his heart rate increase sharply and suddenly. The level of emotion invoked by his thoughts of Bolt was nearly dizzying. He could feel blood coursing through his veins at an invigorated pace... and he could feel increased warmth within his sheath as it began to stir. As he thought more about Bolt, a grey paw almost completely subconsciously began to wander downwards across his white chest before trailing even further down. Reaching down between his legs, he used a knuckle to give his swelling sheath a single stroke, before taking it in between two digits and gently twiddling with it. Finally, he took a pawful, grasping the beginnings of his knot through the sheath and giving it a gentle squeeze, sending a subtle wave of pleasure up his spine. He inhaled deeply, driving his hips upward once in a long, drawn out motion, thrusting into his paw, sparking a larger jolt of pleasure and inciting a warm, red inch of flesh to reveal itself. Just as he was about to go further, his conscience finally and abruptly kicked in, giving him the proverbial and long overdue wrist-slap. Hey, bozo, are you completely brain-dead? Your libido is going to embarrass the hell out of you one day, I swear...

Dodger's paw snapped away from his doghood as if it were a hot stove, and he blushed under his fur. Promptly rocking onto his belly and hiding his arousal, he peered around the large room at the various occupants. Had he been too risky? Upon scanning the room, it seemed like nobody had awoken. Dodger groaned silently. Now he could feel the soft fabric of the pillow on his exposed flesh. Without thinking first, he shifted his hips slightly, rubbing the sensitive flesh against the fabric and shuddering slightly from the pleasure that resulted from the friction between his growing member and the comfortably smooth pillow. Suddenly his conscience slapped him again, and he growled silently with frustration. It looked as though this would need to be taken care of, before his libido would decide to shut the hell up. But then again, he didn't particularly want to get up to go into the bathroom. He wondered... could he possibly rub out a quick one on the pillow without risking embarrassment? He could usually do so successfully on his own bed with a blanket without becoming too conspicuous. For one thing, it sat on the edge of the room, but he also had more comfy articles to hide away and snuggle up in... But on this one pillow in the middle of the floor? Dodger was unsure. It wouldn't have been the first time he was caught sticky-pawed - Rita had caught him on a couple of occasions. Fortunately, Dodger had good friends, and Rita merely threw a smirk at him and left, not saying another word about it, or even caring for that matter. He had always been a little more worried about the other three... He could barely conceive the level of good-natured, yet obnoxious and unwelcome jeering that Tito would relentlessly poke in his face if he were to find Dodger pawing off. In the meantime, Dodger's shaft continued to stiffen, and wasn't going down, and that pillow felt so luxurious against his cock. Common sense said Don't be stupid. Go to the bathroom. His libido, on the other hand, said You want to blow a load right here, right now, all over this pillow. INSTANT GRATIFICATION. Besides, everyone's asleep. DO IT.

Ignoring common sense, Dodger slipped his paws underneath the pillow, hugging it snugly against his chest before pushing his arms downward, using his paws to press the fabric against his abdomen. He rubbed and fondled himself for a little bit through the cushion, waggling his hips ever so slightly and stimulating himself nearly all the way out of his sheath. He felt up the outline of his swelling knot, caressing it softly. Clasping his digits around it, he felt a sudden stab of pleasure in his loins, making him gasp slightly. He then used his forearms and wrists to muscle his hindquarters and the pillow off the floor slightly, giving him an arc to swing his hips through. With his rump in the air and his face on the floor, paws pressing soft fabric to his shaft, he began to gently pump against his paws, quickly bringing about that familiar, delightful pressure between his legs. Allowing the most sensitive parts of his flesh to appreciate every fiber that it ran along, he soon fell into a groove, sweeping his hips over a wider range at a steadier pace. Normally, Dodger took his time while pawing or humping, but at the moment he felt like he should try and finish up ASAP. It wasn't long before he felt the precum begin to ooze, slickening and slathering across the pillow, his cock, and his fur as he pumped. Lifting his hips even more, Dodger began to pump harder, increasing the friction, whispering a moan, and realizing that he was drooling on the floor significantly as he did so.

He began to pant softly through his nose, and his ears flicked back as he thought more about Bolt. He imagined an impassioned kiss... holding, caressing Bolt's soft ears as they explored the interior of each other's muzzles... all while each dog tenderly fondled the other between his legs with one paw...

That was all he needed. Suddenly, he was almost there. He began to grind heavily, his tongue lolling out as he panted and slobbered on the floor and his tip continually spat pre. He could feel the tingling pressure building... ready to release... almost...

In the distance he heard somebody growl. Dodger instantly collapsed his legs and hit the ground, removing his paws from under the pillow, and summoned the will to cease pumping, slamming the brakes on his orgasm and playing it cool. You DUMBASS! He scolded himself sharply as he feigned sleep. He kept his eyes shut, waiting. After some time, he hadn't heard anything else at all. Who had growled, and why? It hadn't been full-on growl. Closer to a whisper, actually. Upon hearing nothing, he carefully craned his neck, surveying the room. Nothing. Strangely enough, everyone was sleeping all the same. Just as Dodger began to sigh his relief, however, he heard it again. A very, very subtle growl, almost a whisper. It sounded agitated, to say the least. He snapped his head, homing in on where Bolt slept, but Bolt hadn't moved, either. Upon examining him closer, though, Dodger could barely make out his irises through the semi-darkness. Bolt was awake. Had he been awake this whole time? If he had, he hadn't seemed to notice Dodger messing around. He hadn't even stirred one bit. But why was he growling? Dodger sat up slightly, and surreptitiously looked down to check on the status of his erection before quickly laying back down. It had retracted down to a couple of inches, slight enough to easily hide. He was very eager to spend some more time with Bolt, maybe pick at his brain a little more. He wasn't terribly worried about waking anybody up, or being heard, either. One nice thing about the houseboat- one had to yell in order to talk to someone right across the room. Acoustically, the cabin was incredibly quiet, and Dodger slept pretty much out of earshot of anybody else in the room.

Standing and straddling the pillow, he discreetly lifted the pillow to his abdomen, using it to squeegee any excess fluid on his belly and around his sheath. He then turned the pillow over, and scooted it across the floor with his muzzle in the direction of his own bed, where Bolt continued to lay still. Upon getting close, Dodger could see that Bolt was not only awake, but he was holding his eyes ominously wide, and didn't even seem to notice Dodger at first. Dodger nudged his temporary bed up next to the rest of his regular resting place and laid down parallel to Bolt.

"Feelin' better, pup?" Dodger said softly. Only now did Bolt move, twitching his head slightly almost as if snapping out of a trance, and as if Dodger's sudden appearance had caught him off-guard. After he recognized who was speaking, Bolt proceeded to stare down at the floorboards, sighing and relaxing his expression.

"A bit," Bolt replied.

"Trying to stare holes through the spoon?" Seeing a spoon in front of Bolt, Dodger tried to lighten the mood a bit by joking. Ultimately, however, he ended up feeling like a stupid jerk upon recognizing that that could very well have been exactly what Bolt was desperately trying to accomplish, and without much success. Smooth, Dodger. "Uhhhhyyyyy...." Bolt made an awkward noise that Dodger didn't recognize, but roughly translated into Actually, yeah. Dodger could tell that Bolt was in pain... He seemed only half present with Dodger, half absent in a deep pensive state. Dodger was content to stay with Bolt, even if Bolt didn't have anything that he felt like sharing- but Dodger felt that it would be a failure on his part if he didn't at least offer his presence. However... Dodger did wish that Bolt would share his thoughts. He could offer more consolation than just his presence if Bolt would, and besides, Dodger simply longed to hear Bolt's voice. For the next few minutes, though, Dodger and Bolt would lay in silence- and Dodger cherished it greatly. "Not three days ago..." Bolt suddenly began to speak to Dodger with a dark introspective tone, and Dodger tuned in immediately. Bolt continued to look with a regretful eye down at the spoon in front of him, which was still quite intact. "...Not three days ago, I was bending steel... nerve-pinching bad guys..." Bolt paused, and Dodger was shocked to see him chuckle slightly. Almost humorously, but darkly all the same. Dodger waited for him to continue, but instead saw him start to shake his head. After another period of deep thought, Bolt ran one paw through the fur on his head, wincing slightly. "Man, my head hurts..."

"I bet," said Dodger, rubbing Bolt's shoulder. "You're actually taking this like a pro. I've seen guys take blows like that, and they can't even move for days," he said in an honest attempt to plant a bit of esteem in Bolt, even if it was a bit of an exaggeration, but instead heard him scoff.

"Yeah... Pro," he snorted sardonically, curling his upper lip slightly as he spoke. Now Dodger noticed the state of Bolt's eyes- bloodshot. Whether it was injury-related, or very possibly due to staring so maliciously at the spoon... he could have possibly been crying- he was unsure. But in any case, it was worrisome. Of course, Dodger knew that Bolt had all the excuse in the world to be crying... He could only imagine how uprooted Bolt must have felt.

"Dodger?"

"Yeah?" Dodger's ears perked up, listening intently.

"Have you ever felt like... you were having a really vivid dream, but... you still felt like... like you had been completely thrown into another world? Like... you were living a brand-new life, but still didn't know what to believe, because everything you thought you knew had suddenly become completely invalid? And you feel like you're going to wake up any second- but then don't?"

Dodger nearly jumped... He sat up straight, blinked his eyes widely, biting his lip. He felt like he had been hit by a truck, and then swept off the road by a tornado. He attempted to speak, but he had nothing to add, even if he could. There was a lump in his throat the size of a baseball, and his stomach was in knots. This was too unreal. This shit had to be a dream. This wasn't happening... there was no way...

"Dodger?" he nearly jumped again at hearing Bolt's voice. Bolt seemed to have a quizzical, slightly alarmed expression as he studied Dodger's visage. "You alright?"

"Hey," Dodger exhaled and acknowledged Bolt, realizing that he had forgotten to breathe as he tried to collect himself, without much success, remaining in a state of utter dumbfoundedness.

"What's wrong?" Bolt probed, incredibly shocked at Dodger's response to his question. Regaining his composure enough to speak coherently, Dodger grasped Bolt's arm, looking him in the face with intense solemnity.

"I have... More than you know. You have no Idea..." Bolt took this to heart, and looked at Dodger, pleasantly stunned.

"Really?"

"Yeah," said Dodger, never breaking his gaze. To his surprise, Bolt even smiled a little. For the next few moments, their eyes never strayed from each other, until without warning, Bolt's expression twitched awkwardly for a moment before he looked away and laid his head down on the blankets, laying his paws across his snout pitifully in an attempt to hide his face and sniffling loudly. At this point, Dodger didn't hesitate. He immediately scooted until he was right against Bolt's side. "Whoa, hey... hey..." Dodger cooed soothingly, reaching around Bolt's back with one arm and gently massaging his opposite shoulder. He immediately felt a warmth envelop him, and something began to churn and tingle in his chest. In that moment, every cell and nerve ending in his body that came in contact with Bolt was awash in bliss. Once again, Dodger's being was completely swept away by a voluminous surge of emotion. This was different from his experience back in the alley, though- Bolt was conscious.

"This isn't happening..." sniffled Bolt. "This is crazy..."

"I know how you feel, Bolt. I really do..." sympathized Dodger.

"I'm such an idiot..." said Bolt, rubbing his chin against a blanket.

"Hey, no you're not... no you're not..." insisted Dodger, squeezing Bolt's arm. "This isn't your fault."

"Yes, it is, I completely allowed it to happen. I ate it up. Green-eyed man... feh..." snorted Bolt.

"Hey, don't blame yourself for what they did to you." Dodger was dismayed as he really couldn't think of much to say that Bolt would want to hear, other than to just be there for him, offering validation. It seemed like there was a dark side to every positive perspective. "Listen, Bolt." Dodger tried to look Bolt in the face, but his face was still partially hidden by his paws as tears continued to roll onto Dodger's blankets. "You're free now. This is a new beginning, not the end. Now you can stop playing this game, get back to Penny, and tell those producers to stick it where the sun don't shine... Right?" Dodger encouraged, continuing to rub Bolt's shoulder. Bolt finally lifted his head and wiped each eye with a paw.

"Yeah, you're right..." he sniffed. "You're right... But..." Bolt hesitated.

"But?" Dodger let Bolt know with his somber face that he was listening to every word. Bolt released a shaky sigh. "For four years... I've been doing this for four years... I mean, you're right, you are so right... This is a new beginning for me. Brand new." His voice still quivered significantly. "Yesterday, I could superbark. I could flip bad guys' cars through the air..." He brought a paw up to his forehead and ran his digits through the fur gently, over the area where a laceration was slightly visible, before looking at his paw in front of his face. Moving each digit, he flexed his paw, turning it over and examining it front and back, studying its movement. He sniffled again, and Dodger saw another tear escape the corner of his eye.

"I understand," consoled Dodger before leaning in closer, lifting the paw that wasn't around Bolt's shoulders and using it to dab at the damp fur on Bolt's cheek. What he did next was seemingly beyond his control. Without thinking twice, Dodger snaked his paw under Bolt's jaw, hooking his other cheek. Dodger leaned forward, pulling Bolt inwards slightly and closing his eyes before pressing his lips tightly against Bolt's cheek. Bolt never struggled, but Dodger gasped quietly the moment his muzzle touched Bolt. Dodger opened his mouth wider, allowing his tongue to gently daub against Bolt's white fur before breaking off, smiling kindly at the canine he had just smooched.

Initially, Bolt was slightly shocked, waving his paw over the area on his cheek that had been affected. The contact had sent a shockwave of energy throughout his body, like an electrical surge, flicking every hair and making every muscle twitch involuntarily. His tail was bumping softly against a pillow, and his jaw hung slightly agape. He sat there for several seconds, stunned. The experience, not unlike everything else that had transpired in the past twenty-four hours, had contrasted so theatrically with anything he had experienced in at least a very long, long time. This, though... he liked this.

"Dodger?" Bolt grasped Dodger's forepaw. "Mm-hmm?" said Dodger, slightly dazed. Bolt shut his eyes, and exhaled deeply through his nose, before looking up into Dodger's eyes. "Thank you," said Bolt solemnly and affectionately, then as if to demonstrate, Bolt repaid Dodger by grabbing him behind the ears, leaning forward and planting a heartfelt smooch between his eyes, causing him to thrash his tail comically.

Holy hell... Dodger thought he would black out- he had never felt such a reaction to being smooched. Bolt rested his paw back on Dodger's wrist.

"You're so kind," adored Bolt, his eyes twinkling. "I'm so sorry if I ever was harsh or bitter towards you." Wow. So kind...

"Nahh, don't apologize," Dodger dismissed, unable to rid himself of what felt like acid coursing through his veins, warming and tingling in every vessel. "You had every excuse... and no reason you should have to put up with me..." He scorned himself, shamefully recalling when he had initially approached Bolt... essentially to take advantage of him. Bolt wouldn't buy it though...

"No, no, don't say that," said Bolt upliftingly as he rubbed Dodger's arm warmly. "This is a new beginning," he echoed. "And so far... I like what I see. Dodger, you've made this whole experience so much easier for me, to say the very least." He could see that Dodger was shivering, strangely enough. He wrapped an arm around Dodger's back, stroking the fur on his ribcage. Both dogs having an arm around the other, their faces were mere inches apart. "If it weren't for you..." His voice faltered. "I... I would feel so alone right now. I'm afraid... that the world would be dead to me... pointless to live in." Suddenly, Dodger felt needed. Valid. Empowered. Emotionally, he was becoming a mess. He had to exert effort in order to keep from crying like a faucet... But he still couldn't snuff the widest, warmest grin that had crept onto his visage. Bolt clenched his eyes, sighing and shaking his head ruefully. "I found out that I had been walked on and lied to... and exploited for years by everyone I knew." He paused pensively. "I love her so much, and I know she loves me, but... in a way, so did Penny," he added grimly, his gaze trailing towards the floor. Dropping his dark tone, he again pressed his face in close to Dodger's, staring down his muzzle. Dodger continued to listen, absorbed in Bolt's words as he continued. "...But you stepped up and gave me hope. You let me know that I'm not alone. You showed me the compassion that otherwise... would have died today." Dodger could feel Bolt's words swelling in his chest, making him feel like the best dog in the world. Good boy, Dodger... "Dodger, as much as I hate to say it- You saved me. You were simply there for me when nobody else was during what should have been the worst day of my life." Bolt stared into Dodger's eyes with adoration and humbled gratitude, making him swell even more with pride. "I'll never forget that."

"Me neither," responded Dodger raptly, making Bolt smile. Utterly stricken by the vibe of unbridled, passionate authenticity that swirled around their heads, Dodger figured that it was time for disclosure on his part. Life is short, and moments such as these sometimes only take place once in a lifetime, and for some dogs, not at all. In any case, Dodger felt like the luckiest dog on earth to take part in such a moment, and he knew that if there was a time, it was now. He now withdrew his arm, and laid it across Bolt's. "Listen, Bolt... I really feel for you, on so many levels."

"I noticed," Bolt chuckled kind-heartedly. "Yeah- But I want to tell you that you're not alone..." Dodger began.

"Alright..." said Bolt, picking up on the fact that Dodger had something significant to say, withdrawing his own arm from around Dodger and grasping his paw, which currently was on top of Bolt's other paw.

"For me... god, today was a tornado. I feel like... like a rogue tornado appeared out of nowhere, picked up my house, and dropped me somewhere in the middle of la-la land, or wherever the heck they went in that one movie. It's like I'm dreaming. Like everything I once thought I knew about life... is invalid, because today, I fell into a whole new reality." Bolt smiled and squeezed Dodger as he echoed almost exactly what he had said earlier. "Really?" said Bolt, astonished and incredibly moved.

"Really. I'm not just copying what you said. What you said related to me as well... so accurately that it's scary."

"Well, what happened? To make you feel like that?" Bolt had a feeling that he knew what Dodger would say, if in fact Dodger was feeling the same way that he felt. Dodger grinned widely, for he knew exactly what had happened. He lovingly lifted a paw to Bolt's head, caressing and scritching him between his ears, inciting Bolt to narrow and roll his eyes in apparent approval of the sudden attention. "Mmm..." he elated, his ears flicking back in delight.

"You happened," Dodger articulated plainly and sweetly, thoroughly enjoying and cherishing Bolt's reaction to his touch.

"I know what you mean," Bolt said with a goofy pleasured grin, half-present and half lost in rapture as Dodger continued to pet him tenderly.

"Do you?" Dodger's heart did a backflip. "Yeah." Bolt paused, and let his eyelids fall shut as he tilted his head and continued to relish the most amazing pets and scratches he had ever received, rendered nearly speechless by the mind-numbing, stupefying sense of brilliant warmth that had swept across every inch of his body, courtesy of the one canine who cared. "You happened, too." Through the thick haze of pleasure, Bolt managed to accurately summarize his mutual emotion for Dodger in the sweetest, simplest, most concise way either of them could imagine. Dodger understood fully, and the understanding that Bolt openly felt for Dodger similarly to the way he felt for Bolt... well... To know that they were both on the same page... that they were in a way, 'one'... To feel just that much more unified... They had now journeyed into their own personal universe.

"I see," Dodger acknowledged gleefully, reverently fondling a soft ear.

Reverence. In the eyes of both canines, the word had taken on a whole new meaning, and the emotion that it represented had assumed a prominent place in their hearts. It was this emotion that consistently shone in each other's faces, as they continued to savor each other's presence. For Dodger, it was the astonishment that anything so surreal... so beautiful... so immense could possibly take hold in his sense of reality. Seeing and feeling that it was in fact happening was enough to compel him to look towards a higher power... beyond planet earth.

For Bolt, it was an intensely reverent sense of gratitude. When he looked reverently at Dodger, he saw the wonderful dog that had so graciously given him new life and shown him compassion.

It was by this reverent gratitude that Bolt shifted his chin forward as Dodger continued to stroke him, pushing his tongue past his lips before drawing it across Dodger's whiskers lovingly, making him shiver and twitch his nose ticklishly in response.

Sliding his paw down behind Bolt's neck, Dodger's eyes once again found the existing wound above Bolt's brow.

"How's your head feelin'?" Dodger asked, briefly bringing the pair back to earth. Bolt brought a paw to his forehead, gently rubbing the scar tissue with his digits.

"Much better," he responded. "It doesn't throb anymore, it's just a little sore."

"Nice," said Dodger, continuing to examine. The gash was still quite raw, but not open. Now Dodger's inherent canine nature was pressing him again, compelling him to nurse the wound properly, and only now did Dodger oblige. Guiding Bolt's chin downward, he instinctively lapped at his forehead, effectively cleaning the injury, but also with an included sense of compassion and intimacy. Bolt didn't protest, or even wince, instead flattening his ears in order to possibly give Dodger an easier time. As Dodger continued to work, Bolt singled out a distinct scent about Dodger. Sniffing at his chest before taking a deep whiff, Bolt grinned flippantly as he recognized it for what it was.

"You smell good," he jested lightheartedly. Halting and retracting his tongue, Dodger bowed his head and investigated, sniffing to detect the pleasant aroma that Bolt was referring to. He stopped suddenly, blushing slightly. Taking an extra whiff, his attention turned to the pre-smeared pillow underneath him, which he had unsuccessfully tried to utilize for his release some time before.

"I know," said Dodger, grinning back rather than bothering to be embarrassed. Bolt chuckled before giving Dodger a swift, sloppy friendly lick across the tip of his nose, silently admiring the nonchalant nature of his response. Dodger couldn't help but shiver as he stared into Bolt's shining face. To hear Bolt chuckle was definitely a fitting and satisfactory reward for what Dodger had done for him, but every time Bolt had graced Dodger with his tongue, it had become the new single best thing he had felt in his life so far. Now... he wanted more, and looking into Bolt's lusty eyes, Dodger could tell that he did, too. Each dog knew that they both wanted the same thing - which was more of the staggeringly stimulating contact that they had both already experienced... and before either of them had a chance to realize it, they could feel each other's soft, quivering breath, and each was looking directly past the other's muzzle.

At first, they simply hung their heads together, rubbing noses and breathing erratically in anticipation, each breath galvanizing each dog even more. Finally, when neither could stand to wait anymore, it happened. Shifting their shoulders, both dogs simultaneously pressed their faces together. Dodger gasped softly as he continued to press his lips against Bolt's. Suddenly, he was stricken with complete dizziness and disorientation, and stars accompanied by vague figures began to dance across his vision as he thought he would lose consciousness. His paws automatically grasped for the back of Bolt's head before both he and Bolt completely collapsed on their sides mid-kiss.

The world completely melted away from underneath them, leaving them with only each other in what felt like a warm, peaceful sleep. Laying on their sides, each with their arms wrapped loosely around the other's back, they huddled even closer, squeezing tight as their tongues began to brush against each other and socialize. Being the musically inspired mutt that he was, Dodger could feel a song coursing through him which he had never felt before... The exquisite, intensely climactic tune stimulated his senses like no other. It echoed throughout his presence. Everything that he felt resonated within the song as he ran his paws across the soft, white ears on Bolt's head.

With Bolt's tongue in his mouth, Dodger could barely catch a moan halfway out of his throat as he savored as much of Bolt's essence as he could possibly grasp.

Finally, Bolt withdrew his tongue, then his lips in order to get a look at the canine with whom he had just shared his first kiss.

He didn't recall his sheltered past as he admired Dodger's infallible splendor. He held no regrets, and held no grudges as his cheeks and ears were caressed so affectionately by those wonderfully distinctive grey paws. Tomorrow never crossed his mind, either. Sharing in Dodger's warm embrace and peering into his beaming face, Bolt didn't think about the long journey that awaited him. He didn't think about cats. He didn't think about superpowers. Not Hollywood. Not the green-eyed man. Not even Penny.

Yearning to be even closer, Bolt contracted his arms around Dodger's back, squeezing his chest fur against Dodger's, with their hind legs overlapping each other and their hind paws shifting against the other's haunches. From this very tight hug, Dodger's muzzle rested directly over Bolt's head. Dodger nuzzled him, at one point planting his nose between Bolt's eyes and inhaling deeply, savoring Bolt's fresh, crisp, but beautifully unique scent before dragging his tongue firmly across his scalp and between his ears, making Bolt shudder noticeably.

Neither dog would feel the need or urge to speak for the remainder of their passion-driven night, and so not another word was spoken between them. As far as they were concerned, the moment could easily last forever- and it carried on, even through their increasing heavy-liddedness and pseudo-consciousness.

Bolt's face rested on Dodger's neck, his right ear tuning in to Dodger's breathing and pulse. Soon it became a rhythm, hypnotic and holding an omnipotent presence. Bolt knew that it would be a matter of minutes before he got sucked into a deep slumber within the embrace of Dodger- His lids were already half-shut, and his tongue lazily poked out just a little as he continued to enjoy the warm, soft fur on Dodger's neck.

Dodger was also busy slipping out of consciousness. As he welcomed the gentle, comforting weight of Bolt's head against his neck and felt the expansion of his chest against his own, he felt like he was ready to completely float away... deep within the arms of newfound love. The thought of sleep had never seemed so blissful and alluring. At some point, he was sure that Bolt had passed out in his arms. Dodger could feel that his muscles had completely relaxed, and he could hear an almost inaudible snore escape from his muzzle as he continued to breathe more deeply and rhythmically.

Being able to feel Bolt's heavy state of unconsciousness as he held him served to suck Dodger even deeper. Even if he wanted to... Dodger couldn't think. Couldn't think about tomorrow. Couldn't think about when the gang would find him cuddling Bolt when they wake up in the morning... He simply couldn't be bothered by anything at all.

He was able to establish a few things though... first of all, that he never wanted the moment to end. Secondly, Bolt was asleep in his arms... and he was pretty sure he was also asleep in Bolt's arms at this point. He also... well... nothing. He was asleep... ...And he had forgotten to count sheep.