Revealed – by preety_lady_serenity

Disclaimer: The characters are the intellectual property of Matt Groening, not mine.

Charles Montgomery Burns woke up by a soft nudge. He let a groan escape from his ancient lips and tried to open his heavy eyelids.

"Good morning sir," he heard the soft voice that awoke him every day. The hand that rested on his shoulder until he woke up moved away slowly and for a second Burns had the urge to grab the costumed soft hand and hug it closely. Not even Bobo had given him such warmth before and Bobo was his oldest and best friend. That hand, Smithers' hand, seemed very soft and tender that moment. He controlled the urge, nevertheless, and wondered on whether he was becoming a senile old coot.

Smithers opened the curtains slowly and just enough for a little sunlight to enter without to disrupt him. Burns sat up and his young assistant put on the tray-table on his bed a tray that contained his cup of coffee, two soft toasts and a softly boiled Dodo egg. Neatly folded next to them was the day's stock market newspaper. Smithers turned to his heels to leave.

"No Smithers stay. I need you to hold the newspaper for me."

"Gladly sir!" the man beamed and opened the newspaper in front of him.

Monty read and cut his toast into small pieces. He took a sip from his coffee and then let out a snort of annoyance.

"Sit down you dolt. How am I supposed to read when you tower the paper over my head? Are you mentally challenged?"

"I'm sorry for my incompetence sir" the man apologised and looked around for a chair.

"Come on! Sit down next to me on the bed dammit!" Burns said impatiently. "Scoot over! Do you think I can read from that far? Don't you protrude the paper towards me like that! Don't you know how to help someone read? Here let me do it!"

Waylon Smithers never realised how he had ended sitting on Mr. Burns' bed with the old man's hand passed around his shoulder, but he sure enjoyed. It was because it was almost like a hug coming from the man he adored.

"What are you waiting for Smithers? Feed me!" the old man ordered him and Waylon Smithers felt close to fainting from happiness.

-)-)-)

"What are you so happy about Smithers? Stop smiling. It is irritating me!" Monty said grumpily as his assistant buttoned the last button on his shirt.

"But I'm always smiling sir," the young assistant commented, his smile fading nevertheless as he tried to choose one of the ties.

"I like that one," Monty Burns ordered pointing to one of his ties in Smithers' hands. "Now let us get going. Your indecision caused us to be seventy seconds late."

-)-)-)

Waylon Smithers sat on his desk waiting for a call, or a shout, from his boss. He could not tell why he had fallen in love with the old man. He did not understand it nor could he recall when it had happened, though his mothers had told him that he was fond of Mr. Burns from the moment the old man first lay his eyes on him and described him as 'impish'.

When he had returned to Springfield from university he was already married to his university sweetheart but the moment he saw Mr. Burns in his office he thought the man was marvellous and everything else seized to exist. His marriage deteriorated within a year.

He became fixated. His world revolved around him. And he wanted to think they were close even though he had fired him a few times before. Mr. Burns had done and said things to him that showed some kind of intimacy or dare-he-say friendship. Last month, for example, the old man smuggled drugs into the country to save him from certain thyroid death. Waylon knew that Mr. Burns could just let him die because he seldom cared about others. Yet he nearly called him irreplaceable and even gave him the kiss of life. A kiss, which made his lips tingle for days.

"Smithers! Smithers!" his boss voice came from the intercom, "come here!"

The young man hurried in the office. That morning Mr. Burns was in the foulest of moods. He wondered who would end up getting fired.

"Smithers do look in these devices and tell me what do you see" the old man said and pointed at the TV-monitors.

"Umm… people working sir."

"Yes, but not all of them work. That Jones guy over there and that fellow Guyermo are talking in front of the coffee machine for almost three minutes. And that oafish brute on sector 7G. Who is he?"

"Simpson sir. Homer Simpson."

"His name doesn't ring a bell. Is he new?"

"No he's been working here for ten years."

"Well call those idiots in my office Smithers."

-)-)-)

"Now Jones and Guyermo you do realise that loitering around the coffee machine can cost me money don't you?" he concluded after a harsh reprimand followed by name calling. I am afraid I am forced to give you this."

The two men gasped at the two pink slips that he showed them.

"Oh sorry lads," Burns said quickly, "I mean this… Oh where is it? Smithers where is my stamp? Why isn't it in its place?"

"It's in the second drawer sir."

"I thought I specifically ordered for it to be in the first drawer. Time is money Smithers and you waste both my money and time! Here gentlemen, an unhappy Burns stamp added in your records. Another one and you are fired! And you now… Who are you?"

"Homer Simpson, sir."

"Ah yes. A stamp for you too."

The old man gasped when he saw two pages covered with stampings.

"Smithers why isn't this oaf fired?"

"You did fire him sir. But you gave him his position back yesterday."

"And you did not advice me against it? Smithers you are wasting my time with your incompetence these days. Simpson, you are fired."

"D'Oh!"

"And you Smithers get me my twelve o' clock tablespoon of beer."

"Immediately sir."

Charles Montgomery Burns let out a grumble when five minutes later Smithers did not arrive. There were days when the young man was infuriating. The fact that he had no patience today made him feel even more annoyed. Had he woken up from the wrong side of the bed? Or did he wish to believe so?

Deep down Montgomery Burns knew what was irritating me. Smithers' hand was the cause of his foul mood. Its softness, its tenderness had been popping in his head since early morning. It raised emotions that were forbidden; emotions of affection and emotions of longing.

He closed his eyes. He felt tired. He suddenly imagined that Smithers' hands were placed around his shoulders. He shot up and looked around the office. It could not be that he cared about Smithers! That he had started developing feelings for the boy.

He spat and bit his lower lip in menace. He wouldn't have it! He was straight! He had almost married three times! He did not want to think himself touching any man. And yet – yet the thought of Smithers… No he wouldn't have it. Never! How did that happen?

The realisation hit him like a punch in the stomach. Smithers' kiss on fake Judgment Day, the affectionate passing of his hand to help him as he walked, carrying him on his arms when he could not move, never in the last fifteen years taking a vacation – just once - Smithers giggling when he complimented him… Smithers was in love with him.

Then it was his reaction to this forming slowly. The deep trust he felt towards the man. When using someone had turned to dependence? He, asking from Smithers to spend the evenings with him. He, calling his queen bee Smithers. Smuggling drugs in the country last month so that the man would not die. Smithers was affecting him more than it was permissible to.

The punch in his stomach transformed to uneasiness and then a second later to anger. Who was Smithers to cause such feelings to him? How dare he making him feel so confused?

The door opened and Smithers entered with the beer and tablespoon in hand. Charles Montgomery Burns' anger subsided for a second before rising up stronger.

"I brought your beer sir."

"I don't want it anymore!" he spat angrily.

"Did anything happen in the stock market?" the young man asked puzzled by his employer's reaction.

"You happened Smithers! You and your puppy dog love! You have romantic feelings for me or my name isn't Montgomery Burns.

Waylon Smithers would not have been as shocked and scared if a bomb had landed next to him. He just stood there as the old man stood up. Mr. Burns had discovered his secret; the worst kept secret in all Springfield as everyone seemed to know except the man in interest.

"What is it Smithers? Do you fantasize about me at nights? Do you want to see me moan while I'm touched by you? Do-"

"Oh Stop It!" Smithers thought as cold sweat run down his neck, "Please stop it."

"-you hope that all this tucking in at night and taking care of me will someday sprout into feelings of love? How can you be so naïve?"

"Stop, STOP, STOP!"

"Let me tell you my feelings for you Smithers. You – you-"

Burns stopped in shock. What did he feel about Smithers? It should have been disgust but it wasn't. It wasn't loathing. They were many feelings there for Smithers. Anger, resentment, affection, appreciation and something that was close to friendship that he resented so much! He looked up and the image of Smithers gave him another shock.

Waylon Smithers stood there as white as a ghost. His lower lip was quivering slightly and he seemed to stare at him with such a great expression of sorrow that for a second Burns wanted to hug him and apologise. Yet, he clenched his fists so tightly his knuckles turned white.

"You're just a pawn to me. A disposable one!" he finally spat.

Smithers recoiled as the words were uttered in menace. He did not move nevertheless. The cold bottle of beer in his hand burned like fire. His feet refused to move. He felt as if his heart was ripped out of his chest and thrown away. He of course, always knew that the possibility of love between him and Mr. Burns could only be an illusion, but it seemed he always held on a bit of hope.

"Just get out of my office Smithers," Burns finally exclaimed, "For good!"

Burns watched the young man who remained motionless.

"Get out!" he ordered once more and Smithers snapped back into reality, the bottle falling from his hands and with eyes welling with tears he rushed out of the office.

Charles Montgomery Burns sat on his chair, his insides boiling with anger and confusion. He turned and saw outside the window. He saw the parking lot full of cars and at the front his own. He saw Smithers running past the limo, towards the parking gate, stop, gasp for air – was he crying? – shook for a few seconds and then running out of the Power Plant and out of his sight. Monty Burns remained looking at the parking lot as his anger subsided and then realisation hit him.

"Oh Shit!" he said, covering his mouth with his hand and biting it furiously, as he realised that he was blinded by his own tears.

-)-)-)

Monty Burns woke up by the sound of his alarm clock. He pushed the button with much effort and after a couple of seconds he managed to stop the alarm. He rested his head on the pillow feeling disoriented. Why Smithers hadn't waked him up? Then realisation hit him once again. He had fired Smithers the day before. Or was it rather that Smithers run away and quit?

"No, no, you can't be thinking of Smithers! Not now, not ever!" he reprimanded himself and lay back. It was Saturday morning and he had the weekend off. What was he ought to do? Usually Smithers – agh that guy again – would already be at his house helping him dress up and suggest a few places to spend their day. The old man was taken aback by the revelation. When was the last time he was left alone?

He narrowed his eyes trying to remember. It was a month ago when Smithers got sick from the lack of his thyroid medication, but at the time he was too busy trying to save him to notice. Also that time when the much younger man had left for a vacation. Yes but at that time he was too busy trying to find out what he could do on his own to notice. How come he had started noticing the man's absence now?

He let out a snort of annoyance. He was seriously getting on his own nerves! He could not like Smithers or return his feelings. There were rules made by society and he was also old. Too old to have his heart broken once the younger man would get bored of him.

"Impure thoughts! Impure thoughts!" his voice echoed in his head in terror.

"So you do consider having a romantic relationship with Smithers," another voice popped in his head. A voice that sounder a younger version of himself and seemed to tease him.

"Shut up! As if I could be a sodomite…"

"It has crossed your mind when he is regarded hasn't it?" his younger version teased.

"I am not going into discussion about this!" Burns he growled aloud in his defence.

"Are you Smithersexual then? You do a lot of things for him. He does a lot for you! This is not a typical boss-assistant relationship."

"I am not thinking of him like that!"

Charles Montgomery Burns was having a conversation with the voice in his head out loud. He was scared of where this was leading to.

"Yesterday you almost hugged and kissed his hand."

"I was groggy!"

"You Kissed Him A Month Ago," the voice insisted a bit irritated.

"It was simply a mouth-to-mouth resuscitation!" he called out!

"THEN WHY DID YOUR LIPS BURNED FOR DAYS?"

The voice thundered in his head. Burns put his head in his hands and let out a sigh of desperation. He looked at his alarm clock. He had woken up thirty minutes ago and he had spent all that time thinking of Smithers. So much for his vow to never think of the younger man ever again.

-)-)-)

The old rich man of Springfield parked his limo destroying two garbage cans in the process. He got out of the car and walked slowly towards the city's park. It was a bright afternoon and he was bored out of his wits end. Throughout the day he had not uttered a single word to anyone – his self and Bobo did not count - and he was once again reminded how important Waylon Smithers was to his psycho-synthesis. Not that he cared about him. He really did not.

He grumbled and moved slowly towards a bench. He stopped, nevertheless, when he heard Smithers' name. He looked around to find the source of his voice. He saw two men sitting next to each other and talking seriously.

"I told Waylon to quit on that old man years ago. He certainly did not deserve screwing his life for someone like his boss," the man with the brown hair spat in heated anger.

"Grady," the man said seriously, putting his hands to restrain his outburst, "It was his choice not ours. We can only stand by his side until he decides what to do with his life from now on."

"You know what irritates me the most? The fact that he is such a good guy and he lets himself pushed around by a man that does not deserve to lick his shoes. He insisted that there is no one else for him – that he cannot be happy with anyone but the old bastard. You know what he did last night? We met on the street and he tried to pretend nothing had happened. But I realised he had been drinking because of his voice and breadth and asked him what was wrong. So he started bawling like a baby - saying that he wished had been given a little affection from the old man, just once, and then he could die a happy man. So I took him back home and took away the cigarettes away from him – the booze too – and tucked him in bed and he kept crying "sir sir!" like a child that had lost his mother."

"Oh you took him home didn't you?" the other man sounded jealous.

"Hey Tony look at me. Smithers was wasted I can't take advantage of such a situation. Plus he is above a lover. He is a good friend I owe too much. When I was a kid – in my early twenties – my parents found out I was gay and – well let's just say it was ugly. At the time Waylon and I were college buddies, more of the acquaintance type to be honest. So one day we meet on campus and I am a mess – my mother still says I'm dead to her – and anyways he asks me how I am in a voice of concern. So here I am opening up to him without thinking about it. When I finished I realised what I had told him and I was sure he was hating me but he just looked at me in grief and took me in his apartment and let me stay there until I got back on my feet. And you know what? He had a girlfriend at the time and he never worried for once I might hit on him. For him I was a friend – a valuable and good friend. So I'm not destroying a friendship by being a jackass."

The two men remained silent. Charles Montgomery Burns tried to digest all the information he had heard. Smithers was a good person that helped others. Smithers was currently a drunken wreck that cried to sleep asking for him. Smithers would die just for a second of his affection. It was all too much!

"We better check he is ok some day today," Burns heard the brown-haired man say, "He drinks so much when he is depressed that he might get alcohol poisoning. You know what pisses me off?" Grady mused he stood up, "The fact that the old buffoon broke his heart and he will never realise that he threw away the only person that would love him no matter what!"

Burns remained sitting on the bench minutes after the two men left. Could it be that what he had just heard about Smithers affected him that much? How come that ever since he realised that the young man had romantic feelings for him his only thought was the possibility of them together?

"Your lips burned from that mouth –to-mouth long before that," the cheeky voice returned.

"Why can't you let me be?" Burns moaned in exasperation.

"And now you try to blame Smithers for your emotions because in real life –"

"I'm not listening!"

"-in real life you can no longer think of yourself without Smithers."

Why won't you leave me alone?"

"Because I'm the demon you never managed to finish off. And believe me you are going to discover that without me you were suffering."

"I'm going home and I'm going to spend my evening quietly and Smithers-free!"

"While he might be dying from alcohol poisoning?"

The old man stood up and hurried to his car. He drove non-stop for fifteen whole minutes, not minding pedestrians, until he reached his mansion. He went upstairs as quickly as his old age would permit and slammed the bedroom's door behind him. Taking a deep breath he took Bobo from his bed and squeezed him tightly.

"For once in my life I don't know what to do Bobo," he whispered in frustration, "What I'm going to do with these feelings?"

Bobo's lifeless eye stared back at him. The room was quiet and suffocating. Charles Montgomery Burns remained motionless for the next two hours, lost in his thoughts. And then he let out a sigh of defeat and placed Bobo on the bed. He had come to a conclusion.

-)-)-)

Waylon Smithers woke up feeling horrible. His flat was a mess. There were many bottles of beer on the floor and the air reeked of cigarettes and sweat. His throat was burning as if it was on fire and his eyes stung. Mr. Burns' words immediately echoed in his head and his eyes prickled horribly, but there were no more tears to shed. What day was it?

He walked towards the kitchen and saw the piles of junk scattered on the floor. More beer cans packets of cigarettes and bottles of whiskey. On the fridge there was a note.

"I took Hercules at my place. A dog should not stay without food for more than two days. He will be in my apartment until you feel ready. I left you some Chinese take out in the fridge. Try to eat something. I am going to be home if you need me.

-Grady.

Smithers wanted to crawl back in his bed and die. His life was ruined. He had nothing to hope for. He let out a moan and stood up from the chair he was sitting. He opened the fridge to get a can of beer only to find it just with the boxes of Chinese take-out. He felt like vomiting and hurried to the bathroom. He knelt over the sink and stared at his unshaven face.

He looked hideous. His hair was messy, his eyes were red and puffy, he was pale and smelling as if he had fallen into a sewer. He didn't feel like washing up but even he felt disgusted from the stench he was emitting. He took off his clothes quickly and stepped into the shower.

Six minutes later he was in a pair of clean underwear and a green pair of gym bottoms. He ruffled his hair with a towel and felt so out of place with the dirty environment he was into.

The doorbell rang making his temple throb in pain. He let out a groan. He needed another drink to make his misery stop. Once he was going to be fully dressed he would try to find a liquor store open and get more whiskey and beer.

The doorbell rang twice. The only person that could have been outside was Grady. Smithers moved slowly to the door not caring to wear a top. He opened the door and closed it instantly in shock. Charles Montgomery Burns was standing outside.

"Oh my God the place is a mess!" That was the first thought that popped in Waylon Smithers' head followed by "And Mr. Burns is outside!"

He looked through the peephole only to see his boss doing the same thing as well. He took a step back and then opened the door.

Monty sniffed indignantly and entered the apartment without waiting for the typical welcome. His nose wrinkled in disgust to the smell and mess and he turned to Smithers.

"Oh my, he is young!" he realised when he saw Smithers' torso. What was he doing? Was he crazy? He leaned down and ushered away, with much effort, the empty cigarette packets from the couch and sat. Smithers remained stood there and the stared at each other awkwardly.

"Smithers I want some coffee," he ordered at last making the much younger man snap into reality and hurry into his bedroom, only to reappear three seconds later and disappear into the kitchen.

By the time Smithers arrived with the coffee Burns had counted ten packets of cigarettes and over forty cans of beers in his vicinity. He could never guess that the young man was such a heavy drinker before. Smithers let the tray with the coffee on the small table and remained standing.

"Good Gracious Smithers, will you sit down or do you plan making this visit even more awkward?"

The young man sat on the couch as far from the old man as it was permissible and poured coffee on their respective cups. The old man stared at his cup of coffee for a minute and then whispered just to be barely heard.

"I apologise for my vocabulary on Friday. It was the shock of the revelation speaking. I don't consider you a pawn. I think you are the only one in that Power Plant I don't think of as a pawn."

Waylon Smithers knew where this was heading to. His boss was there to decline his feelings and ask him not to return to work. That would help him avoid any complaints about a wrongful dismissal.

"Smithers, how old am I?"

Smithers turned to look at him in puzzlement.

"How old am I?" Burns insisted.

"104 years old, sir."

"And you're forty if I'm not mistaken. Isn't that too much of an age gap?"

"I couldn't help it," Smithers blurted without thinking, "Plus I didn't care."

"I am a horrible old man."

"I didn't care!"

"My sexual drive is almost non-existent."

"I really didn't care!"

"I can't take you out on a date, or show you any sign of affection in public."

"I didn't care!" the younger man whimpered, raising his voice at the end.

"In work I will still be demeaning and call you all sorts of names."

"I didn't care!"

"Life is tiring. Some days I am exhausted before afternoon starts."

"I didn't care!" he almost screamed.

"I might die any second now."

"Well, I'm buried with you alive aren't I?" he snapped and stared away, shoving the tears away from his eyes. "As I said, I did not care about any of these details."

They both stopped speaking for awhile.

"Tell me Smithers," Burns finally spoke, "Do you care now?"

"Huh?" Waylon asked in bewilderment.

"Here I am presenting my concerns to you and you keep squealing like a ninny 'I didn't care' over and over. Well, 'did not' is a past tense verb. Do you care now?"

Charles Montgomery Burns knew that money could not buy everything and that priceless expression on Smithers' face was one of them. His mouth hanged open slightly and his eyes stared in puzzlement.

"Well, I still don't care but what … how?"

"Smithers, do you think I would drive all the way to your apartment just to tell you that you are fired and I cannot return your feelings? I could send my team of lawyers for that!" Burns teased with a yet serious expression.

"Oh!" Smithers smiled in awareness.

"Just wait a second Smithers don't you get too excited. You've planned this is in your head for too long and I'm just saying that I won't be calling you with a pet name anytime soon. Oh, and affection will start only and if my hormones decide to work. If I have any hormones left."

"I don't like pet names," Waylon Smithers reasoned, "and as for affection – I waited for almost twenty years. What are a few months more?"

"I don't think you'll wait for months," Burns whispered in sudden embarrassment.

Silence fell between them. They stared at each other in evident embarrassment. Smithers looked down and let out an uncomfortable giggle.

"Smithers…"

"Yes?" he shot up.

"I was wondering… Would it be proper if I hugged you?"

"Yes. I guess it would."

Smithers scooted over and sat next to him. The older man passed his hands reluctantly around his shoulder. Smithers let his head rest on the man's shoulder. They fell quiet, Smithers' hand burning in his own. He finally let his fingers uncurl and pet the younger man's.

"Smithers…"

"Mmm?"

"Would you like to rest your head on my knees?"

"Won't I crush your bones sir?"

"I'll put a pillow to protect them."

"Isn't that additional weight?"

"Smithers, shut up and lie!" the old man shouted in irritation and pushed the younger man's head on his lap. Smithers looked up from where he was laying as Montgomery Burns did something very strange. He took his cup of coffee and started drinking. As Mr. Burns drunk his tea, Waylon Smithers enjoyed the comfort of the man's body. He was sure that he was blushing. And then he got scared. What if all this was Mr. Burns' cruel joke to him? He had messed with people's minds before. How was he any different?

Then Mr. Burns did something unexpected. He started passing his fingers into his hair. It was all so surreal! He was living his wildest desires! He looked up to see the older man. He has rested his chin on his free hand, the cup of coffee balancing on the sofa's hand, and he was deep in thought. Smithers tried to sit up but the man's petting hand drew him back down.

"Smithers," the old man suddenly exclaimed in horror, "I just realised I've changed your diaper once. Does that make me a paedophile?"

Waylon Smithers roared in laughter. He could not help it. It was such a romance turn-off what the old man had said but he couldn't help in not admiring the old man's sincerity.

"It's not funny!" the older man protested in dignity, "Smithers, stop laughing like an idiot!"

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry!"

They stayed chattering for the rest of the day.

-)-)-)

Since that evening two weeks had passed. Smithers was sitting in his office feeling happy. It was true that he and Monty had not kissed yet like a couple yet, but he was willing to wait for the other man to realise his limits of affection for him. He knew that anytime soon the kiss was bound to happen. After all, the older man had given him a peck on the cheek when he had tucked him in last night.

"Smithers, come in here!" Mr. Burns' voice came stern.

He shot up and hurried into the office. The older man pointed on the small TV on his office that was on the stock market channel.

"Look there. That firm in Japan. Do we have stocks of it?"

"No sir."

"Arrange for me to have a million dollars worth of them. It sound promising."

"Certainly sir."

"Excellent! Oh and Smithers," he said pointing at the screen, "Look at that one."

"Which one?" the younger man asked and lowered his head closer to the TV screen.

It was so unexpected that Montgomery Burns planted his lips on his that Waylon Smithers shot up in shock. The peck was quick but strong against his lips and he felt them tingling as his cheeks were painted red.

"Well, I wanted to get this out of my system since last night after you left," the old man muttered. "What are you doing tonight Smithers?"

"Anything you want me to, sir."

"Can I tempt you to some juicy steak at 'Le Françoise'?"

"After work sir?"

"Of course after work! Why do you have then need to ask silly -"

Smithers planted his lips on his boss' making him stop in mid-sentence. He passed his tongue over Burns' lips before retreating.

"Well, I wanted to get this out of my system for years."

"What? Kiss me freely?"

"No. Make you stop during one of your ranting."

"You are insolent!"

"I'm sorry."

"But I like you for this."

Hmmm I actually like the way it ends. What do you think of this one-shot? Love to hear opinions.