Standard Disclaimer. I do not own the Simpsons, C. M. Burns, Waylon Smithers Sr, or any other characters from the Simpsons Universe. This is a non-profit piece of fan fiction; a gift-fic for IceArrows1200; and dedicated to my brother Allen ("The Eagle") B.
For reference, this story takes place after "Consequences of Fission," and before events in "Supercritical Arrangement" or "Snapshots."
Another late night of meetings and loose ends. By the time Preston arrived home, it was already evening.
He dropped his satchel by the door and walked, more staggered to the kitchen. He sat down at the island, and put his head in his hands.
There was movement from the living room. Antoine detached himself from a chair where he'd been watching TV and ambled over to Preston, expression concerned. He took a sip from the short rock glass in his hand, and set it on the counter.
"Hey, you okay?" he asked.
Preston looked up and tried to manage a smile. "Just… tired is all." The dark circles under his eyes made his lean face look even narrower. His cheeks looked pinched.
Antoine dropped a hand on Preston's shoulder. "Here," he said, pushing the glass over to Preston.
Preston lifted it, and sniffed the amber liquid cautiously. The smell was indescribable. Not bad, but pungent, and not something he could pin down.
"Uhm, what is it?" he asked.
"Bee pollen, hibiscus and ginger kombucha," Antoine replied proudly. "It's good for you."
Preston slid the glass back without drinking. "Yeah," he gave Antoine a weak smile. "I don't think this is something kombucha's going to help; you know?"
Antoine's face fell.
Preston never refused his food. Maybe Preston would only take a courtesy mouthful, but he at least tried.
"Kombucha helps everything," he muttered sadly, sliding into a chair next to Preston. He draped an arm around his housemate's shoulder, and gave a familial squeeze. "Come on, Preppy. Talk to me. What's eating you?"
"There's a lot to it, running the plant you know," Preston replied. "Everything was pretty easy to step into, but now I'm having to take on a lot more of the direct decisions, and it's overwhelming some days. I worry I bit off more than I can chew. I'm not ready for this."
Antoine tightened his grip. "Of course you're ready. You're just feeling overwhelmed is all. It's understandable. Since you were cleared to go back to work, you haven't stopped. The closest thing to a day off was…" he paused, words trailing off. Antoine knew how much Preston hated to recall the incident at Burns' AlkaliStark installation. Some wounds, it seemed, took a long time to heal. Some scars, Antoine figured, would never fade.
He ruffled his hand through Preston's hair affectionately.
"You know what you need, Preppy?"
Preston sighed and gave him a tired look. "A change of careers?"
Antoine's hand stopped abruptly. "What? No! Jeeze. I was going to say 'a vacation.'"
"I can't take a vacation. I'm needed here, at the plant! That's part of being a leader."
Antoine snorted. "You know what I was always told?"
"What?" Preston asked sullenly.
Antoine's hand moved down to the back of Preston's neck, giving him a casual rub. "Well, I was taught that if a boss builds an organization that can't function without him, then he hasn't built himself a strong organization." Antoine paused and leaned back. "A good organization should be able to run without the boss for several days or so. Maybe longer." He shrugged. "Let Rowdy run things for a bit. She knows what she's doing. I mean, everything got along just fine when you and Dimas were gone…"
Preston's face contorted at the memory. He looked away.
Antoine silently kicked himself. Preston was so sensitive about the events of that day. Even the merest reference could make him withdraw.
Antoine slid his chair closer. "Hey, I'm sorry. I mean, I forget sometimes."
"How could you forget? You were there?"
Antoine pulled Preston against him. "I guess we just deal with things differently," he remarked, and took a sip of the kombucha.
"I guess," muttered Preston. "You get shot with an arrow and you're making jokes about it a week later. Me? Well… I guess there just doesn't seem to be many laughs around here for me."
Antoine gave Preston a friendly shake. "Don't go judging yourself against me. I'm irreverent, live-in-the-moment. It's how I cope with things. You? Well, you sit and stew quietly. You let things fester and brew, and then we're having this conversation; you know? So this is exactly why I think a vacation is in order, for both of us."
Preston managed a weak smile. "Okay, so let's say we did leave Rhonda in charge, are you really okay with a trip together? Where would we even go?"
"Hmmm, Rowdy's been there longer than I have. She knows the business. Heck, someday you should pick her brain. She might be able to give you a few pointers. If you want her to, of course," Antoine added, holding up his hands.
Preston lifted his head from his hands and leaned back in his tall chair. "To be honest, I don't really know her that well. I guess I should know her; she's one of my vice presidents and all, but I just haven't gotten the time."
"You don't get time, Preppy. It's not gonna come to you. You have to go after it with a club. Time's not a gift, it has to be made. If you don't wrestle it into submission once in a while, it'll run all over you and leave you wondering 'what the hell happened to my life.' And that, right there, is why I think you need to make time for a vacation with me.
Preston didn't smile, but his expression softened affectionately. "Now you sound like my therapist."
"Hah, I'm better than that, Preppy. I'm your best friend! So let's put in your days, and I'll help you pack!"