Donny left Springfield some 20 years earlier knowing that one day he would return. Not for the wretched town itself but rather for something the city had or more to the point someone it coveted. It had taken 4 years after the incident at Springfield elementary for Donny to find a home and another 6 years to survive the abuse of his drunkard of a foster father. At the age of 18 he was accepted to Yale, full scholarship, early decision. It had taken 5 years to complete his law degree and graduating top of the course he was immediately snatched up by "Commyers and Loitter" one of three most prestigious law firms in America. Having moved to Washington, Donny immediately focussed all his time and energy into climbing the corporate ladder, closing cases and winning briefs at an admirable speed. This of course caught the attention of the senior partners, who only 5 years later invited him into their midst. Donny was the youngest lawyer to ever be made partner in the history of the firm. Once promoted Donny immediately filed a request of transfer to the head office, inquiring as to his release from Washington and proposing an establishment in Springfield. He proclaimed that setting base there could be very beneficial to the younger, novice lawyers who could benefit from the simple cases of a small town as training for the future. The Head Senior partners granted his proposal immediately; being as they were in awe and fear of the determined young achiever thought it necessary to send him away. Concerned of loosing their own place in the hierarchy. And so having packed his things Donny left, sharing no parting words as he took the next plane to Springfield. He never returned to Washington.
Donny observed his new house critically as he contemplated to himself the risk of incarceration should he murder the incompetent realtor who had saddled him with this eyesore. Oh for sure the house in question was grand in appearance and would have surpassed his standards were it not for the white picket fence, red rose bushes and pale pink walls. The Malibu Stacey dream house almost made Donny retrieve his breakfast, but a wise decision to move inside saved him from colouring the front lawn. However once he stepped in the doorway Donny was immediately greeted by his old furniture mixed with some new items that had been skilfully picked out by his interior designer. The pale cream walls and dark leather couches made Donny feel at home, or as at home as he ever held a hope of feeling. See it's not the grandeur that made a house a home but rather the people who shared it with you and Donny's' "home person" was currently missing in action. 'Not for long' passed briefly as the young lawyer dashed up the stairs to his room where his open suitcase was already waiting for him. A quick shower later, he dressed and sped down the stairs; grabbing the keys to the Bentley from the coat hook as he rushed out the door.
Bart Simpson had suffered a less favourable fate. In the 20 years that had passed since the fiasco at Springfield elementary Bart had degenerated both physically and emotionally. The shot into High School had not gone down well; it appeared that childish pranks could no longer win the boy popularity. The Jocks ripped on him for refusing to join the football team while the girls blatantly ignored him as he lacked the height and muscle that they desired in a man. However although rejected by the gentler sex, Bart's feminine figure had attracted the attention of someone far less favourable. Mr Burrows the 9th Grade English teacher had taken notice of young Simpson in far more then friendly manner. Giving the boy detentions for no other reason then to attend to him and have him be attended to. The short, balding gentleman (if one could merit him the title) took more then the young boys innocence, he had taken all his trust and confidence with it. Prey not you think he didn't fight it, Bart Simpson had marched fruitlessly between his parents who agreed among themselves that Bart's tale was simply another cry for attention and Lisa who was by then 'miss popular' and had no time for her brother with both cheerleading and debating. So Simpson suffered quietly for another 5 years of school life. Once he turned eighteen he left with barely passing grades and turned away from his family leaving home and finding work in the only place low enough to take him; a male strip joint. He never thought of colleges, neither did they think of him. Five years into his demanding job Bart developed a heroin addiction and fell in debt to the local dealer. As payment the other man bought him off and thus Bart was forced to move on from selling lap dances to selling himself for a hundred bucks an hour. There he was in fact on the night in question 20 odd years later walking Main Street and striking lewd posses for passing cars.
Donny was exhausted; he had spent the better half of the day aimlessly searching for Bart Simpson. Finally realizing that one should track a person at the source rather them at random he arrived outside the Simpson house. Homer greeted him at the door, a can of beer in one hand. He leaned forward, dangerously close to the younger man before growling at him to 'go to hell'. The old coot evidently lost his job at the Power Plant, again. Marge Simpson was of slightly more help; she invited him in for tea and biscuits.
"I saw him, sometime ago now on one peculiar night when I was forced to return home late from my book club. He was on Main Street, I don't know how to put it but you should know it might be better you leave well enough alone. Seeing Bart how he is now could throw you into a fit of disgust, I know If I wasn't his mother I would surely feel that way myself."
Her eyes looked embarrassed as if she couldn't hold his gaze for fear of him judging her; and for the most part she was right he was judging her but not for the reason she though. As Donny got up to leave he glared down at this woman, this unfit mother who left her son out in the dangerous world he was forced to live in and felt nothing but loathing. He wanted to say what he thought of her but judging from the look she gave him as he neared the door, she already knew. For that Donny was grateful, let her do penance at that church of hers for what she has done for no saint in heaven would carry her sins. Donny left, slamming the door harshly. Pulling out from the driveway he fell oblivious of Lisa Simpson chasing his car, hoping to snatch a job at the prestigious new law firm.
The car was the first he saw of the client but my what a car it was. The silver Bentley glowed in the dark of the street, outshining the fading street lamps. Bart watched it slow down and almost smiled at his unforseen dash of luck. The man inside was fortunately handsome and young. This could very well turn out to be a better then usual night. Placing both hands on the edge of the passenger side door, Bart leaned in through the open window and smiled.
"Looking for a good night hun?"
The driver didn't reply straight away instead he turned his steely gaze and flicked his eyes over Bart, who suddenly felt very naked and very cold. Why didn't the other man smirk or leer like all his other clients? The vacant, expressionless face was disturbing. Fuck Bart was really not up for a rough night. He was still tending cigarette burns from a client just two nights earlier.
"Get in."
And Bart did; for a client was a client and he was cold, what ever happened to him tonight at least he might be able to sneak in a hot shower afterwards. The inside leather upholstery felt warm against his skin, burning through his scarcely clothed form. The drive was silent and uneventful; Bart had caught the stranger looking at him curiously more then once along the way but said nothing, and why should he? It was all part of the package, the appraisal before the purchase. Once the car pulled into the drive way the smaller man suddenly felt nervous. The house evidently was the choice of a woman or a borderline feminine twink. The stranger was neither leaving only one possible conclusion.
"Sweetheart perhaps taking me to the SL_EAZY motel might be a better idea. I wouldn't want this to get in between you and your wife."
His companion for the night just stared at him blankly, making Bart feel on edge once again. You don't speak unless spoken too, it ruins the fantasy; fuck he was in trouble.
"I'm not married," he finally said
Bart didn't believe him for the moment but who was he to complain. The man had purchased him for the night and thus his word was law. Waiting patiently for the client to exit the car Bart followed suite and quietly walked up the driveway behind him, keeping his head low. Although most of Springfield was by now aware of his 'profession' it still made him feel awkward being recognised with a client. Might have something to do with the trace of dignity he so desperately clung to. After all it was all he had left, well that and the heroin.
The inside of the house was far more pleasant. It reminded one strongly of a classic bachelor pad, all leather and mahogany wood. Bart having reviewed the kitchen, dining room and living room with one even glance quickly noted that the man was loaded. Maybe he could up the price for just one night.
"Come into the living room, I want to have a better look at you."
Bart obeyed without question. The customer was always right. It was an unspoken law. After all if he was not pleased with the appearance of his toy then why would he pay for the entertainment? As the young whore moved forward he briefly though of the long walk to Main Street that could be the fruitless conclusion to this evening. He attempted to rub the mascara smudges from underneath his eyes and ran his hand through lanky shoulder length hair. The lights came on and Bart could hear a gasp from the client. Immediately self-conscious he bit his lip; it must be the make up, some tricks liked him clean.
"I can take it of." He mumbled quietly, gesturing with his hand at his face.
"N…No it's not that."
Suddenly the bigger man broke his resolve and enveloped his secret childhood sweetheart in a firm embrace. Bart in momentary shock attempted to struggle but immediately calmed as he realized it could all just be part of the fantasy. After all he wanted to be payed tonight. The hug was actually quite pleasant. It had been a fair while since the last time he felt the warmth that came from an embrace like this; and after a few minutes the smaller man was reluctant to let go as he held on to the other, burying his face in the warm, salty neck. Just as Bart started contemplating on how much 'he' was willing to pay the client just to be held like this all night, the other pulled away. Bart wasn't ready to let go and attempted to pull the taller man back into his arms but Donny pushed him away gently.
"You don't remember me do you?"
"Should I?"
"Its me Bart, Donny, remember that thing in forth grade with Skinner?"
Bart's eyes widened in recognition and he took a hesitant step back. Unable to help himself however he stretched out one hand to gently touch the taller mans cheek, eyes filling with tears of emotions long forgotten, forced out. Just as he got with in an inch of his destination, he was struck with realization at what he was doing. As if stung in mid-air he pulled back sharply. Forcing his gaze to the floor Bart shuffled his feet awkwardly. He was still a whore and Donny was still his client; no use getting emotional. He had played this game with both Milhouse and Nelson, and made the mistake with both. It was time he learned his place
.
"Don't you remember me?"
The sheer pain in the hollow voice forced Bart to face the other man. He couldn't let him suffer like this. It didn't matter where they stood in life, for this one night Bart would make him feel special. No matter how much it would hurt him comes morning.
"I do!" And then he embraced the other, moving in for a passionate kiss; but was refused with another gentle push.
"Wait! I don't think you understand. A lot has happened to me these past 20 years I achieved far more then I ever imagined. I got into Yale and then got a place at a very prestigious law firm, but I was still empty. Do you know why I felt empty Bart? Because nothing mattered when you weren't there to share it with me. I have never been able to let you out of my mind, because you haunted it every moment of ever day. I would see you every time I achieved something, smiling at me, encouraging me. I came back to this god-forsaken town because you're here and in consequence you make it the greatest place on earth. I am not a client and you are not my whore. You Bart Simpson are my 'everything' and I cannot live without you. I want you tonight but I want you every night that follows. Always besides me, like it was meant to be from the moment we met."
Having said that, it never did become clear just who made the first move, all that can be recalled was that the two where kissing and the passion that followed never reached the bedroom.
The next morning as Donny lay on the couch, with Barts smaller form tucked flawlessly into his side, head resting on his chest he wondered briefly at the overwhelming sense of satisfaction that held him. Unable to help himself he pressed a soft kiss to the crown of golden locks. The silence in the home was only fleetingly interrupted by the thump of the morning paper against the front door, and Donny smiled. He had it all.