I do not own any characters from The Simpsons.

Enjoy.

A 4 year old Waylon Smithers Junior tottered into the office of the ever powerfull owner of Springfields Powerplant carrying a mug of coffee for the one and only Charles Montogmery Burns. To Waylon, Mr. Burns was someone he always adored since the first day his father began working at the powerplant.

His father had died before he could remember like his mother. Waylon's mother died giving birth, and his father died from radiation poisoning from the powerplant itself.

Mr. Burns had been left to care for the young boy since then, though he did not seem pleased by the fact of this - he merely kept the child for company, and for other things Mr. Burns was too lazy to do. As Waylon grew up, Mr. Burns slowly realised he would do anything he whanted him to do, and since then - took advantage of it.

"Mr. Burns, we have gotten reports on the powerplant about the fumes coming from here affecting health of the workers and it has been grown into a concern by familys. Not to mention the recent death of Mr. Waylon Smithers Senior because of this very reason." As Waylon came into the office, he could here the low rumbling voice of the current mayor of Springfield, whom was leaned over the desk in the seat he sat on in front of it.

"What the hell are you talking about? This place is as dangerous as it was before i became the damned charge of it! And you - what took you so long? I asked for that coffee 20 minutes ago!" Mr. Burns snapped his attention from the mayor to the young boy holding the burning hot mug of coffee in his tiny hands - carefull not to drop the mug on accident. Mr. Burns gave an impatient glare to the child and he snatched it away from him greedily.

Waylon whimpered at Mr. Burn's dissaproval and whiped his glasses on his shirt and put them back on "I am sorry, Mr. Burns - but it's hard for me to make coffee when i can't reach to the coffee maker."

The mayor looked from young Waylon and back to Mr. Burns, who was keeping a steady gaze back at him. The mayor grunted in disgust and he rose to his feet "If there is any more trouble reported to me, i will have this place shut down quicker than you can blink!". Mr. Burns opened his mouth to protest, but before he could do anything - the mayor left, slamming the door behind him.

Mr. Burns curled his hands into tight fists and his head jerked to Waylon, his eyes icey with rage "Pull another stunt like that and you'll be in the streets no matter what.".

Waylon held back tears - though not from the fear of being homeless, but of dissapointment that rose inside him from Mr. Burn's anger towards him.

"I am sorry, i will work harder next time, Mr. Burns." Waylon promised to him and plopped down on the chair the mayor was sitting in moments earlier. Mr. Burns scowled at the boy and turned his back to him so he could face the window that faced in his office so he could "see what the peasents where doing" - or so Waylon recited Mr. Burns telling him.

"You better, you worthless rugrat..." Mr. Burns muttered, his eyes narrowing as he gazed down apon everyone in Springfield below.

A cold silence misted over the large office as Mr. Burns studied the citizans below. Waylon struggled to think of something - anything - to make Mr. Burns happy with him. All he whanted was for him to smile. Just one little smile.

"Bobo is out of the drier and i have him in the hamper i have with all your clothes, Mr. Burns." Waylon finally said, shattering the moment of silence. This, Waylon knew, would please the one he adored.

Mr. Burns immidiantly snapped his attention to the orphaned boy and slinked over to him quickly "Oh? Give him to me! I've been waiting for a whole 24 hours!"

"With pleasure!" Waylon smiled and skipped to the hamper that held the various suits and outfits Mr. Burns owned that were now cleaned. He pulled out a raggedy looking bear and handed it to Mr. Burns.

"Bobo..." Mr. Burns crooned, petting the teddybear happily. He looked down at Waylon and put a hand on his sholder "This is more like it, boy! This is the progress i whant!"

Waylon beamed with pride and his heart swelled with joy as Mr. Burns touched his sholder. And the rest of the day, Waylon was buzzing with joy - tending to every need Mr. Burns had.

By the end of the day, Mr. Burns took Waylon to his manor as always, having had to give a spare room to the boy. Waylon helped Mr. Burns prepare dinner for the both of them and the two ate in silence, though Waylon constently glanced up to look at Mr. Burns. He hadin't seemed to notice.

After dinner was finished, Waylon cleaned the dishes with quite enthusiasim - whistling a tune he had heard Mr. Burns humming before. After this chorse was done, Waylon led Mr. Burns to his king-sized bed and tucked him in. Waylon pulled a chair beside the bed and waited untill Mr. Burns had drifted off to sleep.

Once he had heard the steady breaths taken by Mr. Burns in his sleep, Waylon jumped down from the chair and pushed it back to it's position.

Waylon made his way over to the door to turn off the light and go into his own room, but stopped midway towards to door and turned back to the bed.

Tiptoeing, Waylon made his way back to Mr. Burns and smiled down at the sleeping man. He bent down and kissed him on the cheek gently

"Goodnight." Waylon whispered to Mr. Burns after kissing his cheek and he slipped back to the door, turning off the light and closing the door soundly behind him.

By the time Waylon Smithers graduated from college, he married his highschool sweetheart - Shirley - and when he was not working on his day job, he was visiting Mr. Burns daily to check up on him. His worries and heartaches over Mr. Burns frusterated Shirley and she soon filed a devorse on him - though Waylon did not mind. Soon enough, Waylon tried to ease this stange feeling over Mr. Burns by replacing it with beer and cigarettes.

Waylon became very avid with the addictions, though it usually eased his pain and worry about Mr. Burns, worrying if he'd be okay when he was gone or if he could make dinner on his own on the nights i worked over time. worked overtime.

One night, Waylon invited his friend Lenny over to discuss his addiction problems. When Lenny entered, he saw the apartment was as wrecked as Waylon himself. It was almost impossible to avoid the shattered beer bottles that were scattered all around the room, and to add on it, there was cigarette butts dappled the ground as well. The apartment reeked heavily of whine and beer and the smell of cigarette smoke stained onto the furniture notably.

Lenny gingerly made his way to the couch, brushing off ash to sit down and he waited for Waylon who was making coffee for him in the next room. Once Waylon entered, he noticed he was just as under-kept as the home he lived in. Waylon's glasses were lopsided and under his eyes, Lenny noticed there were dark lines that showed lack of sleep. Waylon did not take time to pick out an outfit carefully with a half tucked button-up shirt and ripped up jeans that had grass stains greased onto them.

With a mug in one hand and a lit up cigarette in the other, Waylon sat beside him and placed the mug on a coaster on the tabel in front of him. Waylon looked up at Lenny wearily, coughing as he began to speak.

"Oh, Lenny. I don't know what to do with myself..." Waylon sighed, taking a smoke from the cigarette and puffing out a tiny cloud - making Lenny choke for air horridly.

"What could possbily've gotten you to this state, Waylon?" Lenny asked, concern weighing him as he looked at his college buddy. He had never seen Waylon so dis-organised and stressed out. Whatever it was must be important to him.

"I am worried sick over someone that i love..." Waylon breathed reluctantly, rubbing his forehead absent-mindedly.

"It can't be Shirley, is it?" Lenny asked immidiantly, taking the mug and begining to sip the liquid slowly.

"No! Not at all!" Waylon answered quickly, crossing hs legs as he stared at Lenny "I- i think i am in love with the owner of the Powerplant, Lenny." Waylon drew a long deep breath and closed his eyes tightly, waiting for his reply.

Lenny stared at Waylon for a few moments before it all clicked in inside his head "Mr. Burns?" He finally asked, blinking with suprise.

"Yes, yes..." Waylon muttered, closing his eyes wih shame. Lenny blinked, scratching his head as if in thought.

"I never knew you liked men, Waylon." Lenny finally said, hoping he would not take it the wrong way.

"I don't, Lenny! I just like Burns!" Waylon snapped, glaring at Lenny slightly "I have ever since i was a young boy."

"That's pretty intense." Lenny blinked and shifted slightly in his seat "Why not tell the old man?"

"Because he only veiws me as the foolish young man who visits him every now and then." Waylon told Lenny, a strange sadness scorging in his eyes behind his gleaming specticales.

"Why not take a job from him?" Lenny sudgested and Waylon raised his head, staring at Lenny with whide curious eyes "I mean, i work for him myself - i am sure if you've known him since you were an infant he should give you a job."

A smile suddenly spreaded across the weak face of Waylon and he hugged Lenny "Oh, thank you, Lenny!"

Lenny smiled, though he hoped that the cold hearted old man would at least take some pitty on the devoted heart of young Waylon.

The next morning, Waylon skipped work and came to Mr. Burn's office to discuss the matter of getting a job at the plant. Mr. Burns was leaned back on his office chair, ignoring the unfinished paperwork that laid abandondly on the desk. The feeble old man glanced up at Waylon and narrowed his eyes crossly at the young man.

"What are you doing here?" Mr. Burns snarled, folding his fingers together in front of him on his desk firmly "Don't you have a job or something?" Waylon did not notice the tone of annoyance that posioned in his voice darkly.

Waylon stumbled to a seat that stood infront of his desk and fidgeted nervously in his seat "Uhm - Mr. Burns, i was wondering - if prehaps i could work here instead. I mean, i could take any job you desire me to, no matter how low-paid or ridiculous."

A cold yet amused grin plastered across the elder man's face as he studied Waylon, who was slinking down in his seat. Supressing a laugh, Mr. Burns replied smoothly "A job, eh? Anything i whant..."

"Yes, anything." Waylon vowed, ignoring the cold laugh that rose in Mr. Burn's throat.

"How about you be my assistant?" Mr. Burns offered, taking this opertunity quickly "But this means you'll have to take me home and make sure i am fine before going to your own after work."

Waylon's heart thudded against his chest with excitment, his eyes whide "Oh, i would be more than glad to, Mr. Burns!".

"Great, the job starts now, ... Smithers! There we go, i'll call you Smithers." Mr. Burns smiled crookedly, shaking his weak fradgile hand with Waylon's firm gripped hand.

"I take great pride in working with you, sir!" Waylon - now known as Smithers - chimed cheerfully, taking this moment and capturing it in his mind to keep it forever in his heart.

"Smithers!"

Waylon Smithers, now in his early 40's a few years later, dashed to his boss's bed in his giant manor hurridly, skidding to a hault once he reached him and bent down to look at Mr. Burns, waiting for any rediculous request from him. He was his boss... best friend... and the only one he loved and ever would. It was a Saturday which ment no work for the both of them.

"Yes, sir?" Smithers replied, his eyes sparkling with pride and love towards his employer.

"I am hungry - make me breakfast." Mr. Burns requested, staring at the young man expectantly.

"With pleasure, sir." Smithers beamed and dashed to his marble-floored kitchen, preparing Mr. Burn's faveorite meal to put on a tray. Once he was done making the breakfast just the way he liked it, he placed the food onto expensive china plates. He squeezed oranges into a smoothie blender and started it up, whatching it spin and blend hurriedly. While waiting for the blender to finish it's job, Smithers grabbed an ocean-sand designed vase and placed two pink colored roses into it , placing the vase on the tray beside the food. He had once read that pink roses ment a sign of admiration - but remembering the romantic meaning of the red roses, he placed 4 red roses as well into the vase.

Once the blender died down, Smithers poured the fresh orange juice into a crystal glass, also putting it on the tray. Smithers steadily carried the tray to his boss and placed it onto his lap carefully.

"Thank you Smithers." Mr. Burns said to Smithers with a gentle smile "Now do me a faveor and take the limo and go the grocierie store for me - there's a list inside waiting for you."

"Of corse, sir." Smithers smiled and left the room, slipping out of the manor, closing the iron gates that gaurded the manor behind him. He marched over to the limo and climbed into the driverseat and noticed the list that Mr. Burns left that was layn patiently on the passanger seat. Smithers picked it up - and his mouth whent dry at the note he found, which was surely not a list.

"Smithers,

I know that you've loved me all along - i've known this since the first time you ever knew about love.

I know everything you do for me is out of love

Like the time you made sure i was fine after Maggie shot me.

Remember the time we believed the end of the world was coming.. and you kissed me? You made up the excuse "It was simply to show my apresiation for you" - or something along those lines.

But it was a lie.

And truthfully, Smithers...

I love you too.

Don't ever think anything otherwhise, and i wouldin't whant anyone as my assistant.

Your's always,

C. M. Burns"

Well, what do you think? I hope you all enjoyed :-) 3