I wanted to write a fic exploring the relationship between Mr. Burns and Waylon Smithers Sr. (Smithers' father) Since Smithers Sr. was only in two episodes that leaves alot to the imagination. This chapter is based on the episode "Mother Simpson" which doesn't actually show Smithers Sr. but seemed to me like the place where the two of them might have first met. Also just to clarify, I don't really intend this to be a slash fic, just about how their friendship developed.

Friday, January 31, 1969

Professor C. Montgomery Burns sat at his mahogany desk in his office at Springfield University, growling in frustration as he graded reports from yet another class full of incompetent simpletons. He loathed teaching, but for some strange reason the university had required that he hold classes if he were to remain on staff as the chairman of their germ warfare research department.

It was appalling, really, to be wasting his intelligence on a group of students who would be better suited as guinea pigs than scientists. He was tempted to fail the lot of them and be done with it.

He glanced up at his clock and noticed it was five minutes past three. His lab assistant was late. He scowled in annoyance. It was bad enough that he had to stop his research long enough to grade these blasted papers, but now he'd be even more behind schedule.

Several moments later his door was thrust open as his assistant ran into his office, panting heavily and looking rather flustered. "S…sorry I'm late…" he said in between gasping for breath.

"Where have you been, Smithers?" he snapped, giving him an icy look. "We have work to do!"

"I was in Professor Fleischer's nuclear physics class and he got a bit carried away in his lecture," the young man explained, sounding quite apologetic.

"Fleischer," Burns said with a disdainful snort. "That pompous windbag just likes to hear himself speak."

Waylon Smithers snickered. "I think you have a good point there, Sir."

Burns felt a slight grin touch his lips. Of all of the students he'd taught during his tenure at Springfield University, Smithers had been the most tolerable. It was a combination of his agreeability, above average intelligence, and conservative nature. While most of the students had taken to wearing long hair, and wild, colorful clothes, Smithers always showed up for class in his plain gray suits and boring round glasses, his short hair neatly combed.

He was exactly what Burns had needed in a lab assistant, someone who was competent but who also understood his place. Not only had Smithers proven to be quite useful in the lab, but his cool temperament had served as a helpful counterbalance to his own fiery disposition. He was actually rather disappointed that he'd be graduating this semester, but he had hopes that he could convince him to work for him full time afterwards.

"So what should I work on today, Sir?" Smithers asked after a moment of silence.

Burns looked up, realizing he had been lost in thought. "Oh. Just continue on with what we were doing yesterday. I'll join you shortly."

"You have papers to grade?" he asked conversationally as he pulled on his white lab coat.

"What do you think?!" he snapped. "This group of students is even more incompetent than the last! Why do they keep letting these morons into this university? Do they have no standards anymore?"

Smithers chuckled. "Oh, they can't be that bad…"

"They can and they are. They insult my intelligence with this dribble!" He threw his arms up in the air in frustration.

"Would you like me to grade those papers for you?"

The offer was slightly unexpected, but not really surprising. His young assistant had a habit of being unnecessarily helpful, above and beyond his job description. He certainly wasn't required to grade papers, but Burns wasn't going to pass by a chance to pawn off such a loathsome task on someone else.

"Have at it," Burns muttered as he stood up from his antique leather chair. "Then you'll see just how much I have to suffer for this job…"

"It must be quite difficult for you, Sir," Smithers said sympathetically, though with a slightly bemused grin on his face, as he sat down at the desk.

Burns wondered if he should be angry at him for being amused by his plight, but he found it rather difficult to be mad at the boy. For one thing, he would certainly revel in someone else's misery if given the chance. Besides that, Smithers was loyal and trustworthy, as well as surprisingly honest for someone so sycophantic. The fact that he was willing to express some of what he was really feeling was actually quite refreshing.

The two of them shared a strange sort of familiarity that was both confusing and intriguing. Generally Burns preferred to be alone. Sure, he had learned how to impress others in social settings, having come from a wealthy and distinguished background. Though he could be charming and conversational, deep down inside he loathed most of humanity. Very seldom in his life had he met anyone whose presence he could stand for more than a few moments without fantasizing about how much he'd like to strangle them.

Of course, it wasn't as if the two of them were friends or anything. He still found himself annoyed at his assistant from time to time, and he purposefully maintained a cold and distant demeanor as they worked together. Yet Smithers somehow managed to handle the bitter remarks and scathing insults directed at him without problem, continuing unfazed in his work. This was the reason why he was Burns' only lab assistant to last for more than a couple of weeks.

Burns opened the door to his lab and cast a glance back to Smithers who seemed diligently focused as he graded the papers. "Don't put too much thought into it. Hell, just fail everyone for all I care."

Smithers looked up at him and smiled. "Some of them aren't so bad."

"Hmph," Burns replied in disinterest. "Just make it quick. I need your help in the lab."

"Yes sir," he replied, immediately returning his attention to the papers in front of him.

Burns felt a satisfied grin on his face at Smithers' unquestioning obedience. He sighed happily as he stepped into his lab, everything neatly organized and immaculately clean thanks to his assistant. He'd be perfectly content to spend all day every day in there, alone with his research, away from the annoyances of humanity.

It was nearly seven by the time they finished up for the day. Smithers' shift was supposed to end at six, but he never complained about staying late. That was the sort of work ethic that Burns admired, and he was quickly realizing it seemed to be slipping away from the younger generations.

"I do apologize for keeping you so late on a Friday evening," Burns said as he locked the door to his lab, though the apology was more a matter of formality than sincere regret.

"Oh, it's no problem, Sir," Smithers replied. "I'd hate to leave anything unfinished over the weekend."

"Of course. But I'm sure a young college boy such as yourself has some wild plans for the weekend, hmmm?" he teased, with a mischievous grin.

Smithers chuckled. "I'm not much for wild plans. I'll probably just take my girlfriend out to a movie."

"Not one of those drive-ins, I hope. I've heard of the sort of scandalous activities that young people engage in at those places!" Burns was rather amused by the way Smithers blushed at his implications.

"N-no, Sir. Just a regular movie theater," he stammered nervously.

Burns shook his head. "You're more boring and conservative than I am, and I'm an old man."

"I thought you liked that about me?"

"I do," Burns agreed as they walked outside. "I'm sick of all these hippies with their crazy hair and ridiculous clothes. It's nice to know there are still a few young people who appreciate traditional values."

Smithers seemed pleased with that response. "Well, I'll see you Monday morning, Sir."

Burns nodded. "Good night," he said as he headed toward the faculty parking lot, Smithers walking away in the opposite direction toward the dormitories.

As much as he enjoyed teasing his assistant, Burns also had no exciting plans for the evening. He supposed he would head home to the manor and have a glass of wine as he read a book in front of the fireplace. After that perhaps he would soak in the tub for a while before heading to bed.

Nearly two hours later he found himself in front of the fire, just as he had planned, enjoying an expensive glass of an 1886 vintage merlot as he read Ovid's Metamorphoses in the original Latin. He was content, enjoying the peace and quiet of his mansion as he was surrounded in opulent wealth and luxury. It was a lifestyle reserved for a select few, and he felt that no one deserved it more than he did.

He nearly jumped when the silence was disturbed by the shrill ring of his telephone. "Who would dare to call upon me at this hour?" he muttered angrily, setting his book on the arm of his chair as he stood up and walked over to the phone.

"Ahoy-hoy," he answered, automatically giving his standard greeting, though there was a clear edge of annoyance to his voice.

"P…professor Burns…" came the nervous, stuttering reply. The voice was vaguely familiar, though he couldn't quite place it.

"Yes. What it is?" he said impatiently.

"Th…this is Clancy Wiggum. From student security…"

He felt himself scowl. "This had better be something important to be phoning me at this late hour, boy."

"Yes, sir. You see… something happened at the lab…"

"The lab? My lab? Dear God…"

He made it across town to the university in record time, ignoring all traffic laws in the process. Still, he was too late to stop those damned hippies from destroying years of hard work. All of his research, all of his germs that he had painstakingly developed, had been rendered useless by a bunch of bleeding heart liberals who felt that everyone could somehow just live in peace.

It was beyond infuriating. He had been here in his lab for nearly two hours, surveying the damage, making reports to the police. Finally he had gotten tired of everyone, and had told them all to get lost. There was nothing that could be done at this point anyway, short of finding those responsible and making them pay dearly.

He sat as his desk now, a bottle of aged scotch in front of him. He poured a generous amount into his fine crystal glass and gulped it down without taking the time to savor it as he normally would have. Thanks to the several glasses of wine he'd had earlier, the numbing effects of the alcohol kicked in rather quickly.

He had just poured himself another serving when he heard a light knock at his door. "Who is it?" he snapped irritably.

"It's me… Waylon Smithers…" came the timid reply.

"Come in," he said, rather morosely. He glanced up at his assistant who was still wearing the casual clothes he must have changed into for his date that evening. "It's after eleven. What are you doing here so late?"

"I just got back from the movies and everyone on campus was talking about what happened."

"Ah, so you came to check on how the lab is doing then?"

"I came to check on how you're doing," he answered, his voice laced with concern.

Burns looked up and met his eyes, realizing that his assistant's expression was sincere. He was not accustomed to anyone actually caring about how he felt. He took a moment to gather his thoughts before answering. "I feel like hell," he said finally, being uncharacteristically honest. He motioned at his liquor cabinet. "Get yourself a glass and join me."

He watched as Smithers pulled up a chair to the other side of the desk, facing him. He picked up his bottle of scotch and filled the young man's glass.

"That's quite a bit, don't you think?" Smithers replied, raising the glass to his lips and taking a cautious sip.

He laughed and leaned back in his chair. "It'll take more than that for you to catch up to me," he said before taking a large gulp of his own drink.

Smithers smiled at him. "You don't seem like you've had that much, Sir."

"You're right. I'm not nearly drunk enough," he said tonelessly. He felt a little amused when he could tell his assistant was trying to decide whether he was being serious or not.

Finally after several minutes of silence, Burns spoke again. "You really didn't come all the way out here this time of night just to check on me, did you?"

"Well, of course I did. I figured you'd be pretty upset about what happened. I mean, I'm pretty upset about it myself. I've been working on this research myself for nearly two years. It must be far worse for you, considering this is your life's work."

Burns swallowed hard and nodded. He rested his arms on the desk and looked down at his half empty glass. He was finding Smithers' empathy rather difficult to process, being something that was completely foreign to him. However, despite being an unusual thing, it was not entirely unwelcome. He was probably the only person who had any clue how traumatic this had been for him.

"I've been working on this project for years," he said, his voice cracking with emotion. He couldn't believe he was allowing himself to be so vulnerable in front of one of his students, and he blamed it on the alcohol. That had to be it. "All of that hard work. Ruined! By a bunch of stupid, filthy hippies." He spat out the last word as if it left a bitter taste in his mouth.

"It's a tragedy," Smithers said in agreement. "I hope they catch whoever's responsible for this."

"Hmph. The incompetent police in this town can barely catch a cold."

Smithers grinned at his attempt at humor, though Burns wondered if he really found it all that amusing.

"Well, I hope this is the time they get it right, Sir."

"I won't hold my breath waiting for it," Burns replied rather bitterly, downing the rest of his scotch. "Besides, I have more pressing matters to worry about at the moment."

"I'm sure you do. You have to get your research going again," his assistant said. "I'm more than willing to help in any way I can. I'll put in as many extra hours as it takes to get the lab back up and running."

Burns actually found himself smiling at such a genuinely friendly offer. "I don't even know if it's worth starting over again at this point…" He shook his head sadly. "And to think, I was going to offer you a full time position in the lab once you graduated."

Smithers actually looked rather disappointed. "I would have liked that, Sir."

"Is that so?" Burns smirked. "Most people can't stand working for me."

"Oh it has its challenges," Smithers said with a nervous laugh. "But that's what makes it fun."

He tented his fingers as he regarded the young man sitting across the desk from him. As much as it pained him to admit it, despite his attempts at ambivalence he had actually grown to like Smithers' presence. The two of them worked well together. He had finally found someone who could not only handle his cold, abrasive personality, but actually seemed to enjoy being around him.

"It is a shame I can't offer you that job… However, I do have a project I have been considering for a while now, and since this happened, maybe it's time to invest a new venture," he said cryptically. He looked up and met Smithers' eyes, giving him his most charming smile. "And I think you might be just the person to help me make it happen."

Well there's the first chapter, let me know what you think! :D

As for Burns being a scientist, besides "Mother Simpson" where he works in a lab, in "Simpson and Delilah" his college yearbook shows him studying science, and also in "The Mansion Family" he has a lab in his manor.

The events in "Mother Simpson" happened shortly after Super Bowl III so that's how I came up with the date for this chapter. Wooooo Wikipedia! Hehe.