No Reservations

"The nerve!" Bob muttered angrily as the gilt doors closed behind them. "Can you believe the gall, turning away the esteemed Dr. Terwilliger and company?! I dare say, those baseborn ingrates do not yet fully comprehend the gravity of this ignominious affront to my good name!" Bart was unable to keep the smile off his face.

"I'm pretty sure you let them all know," he snickered, ignoring the glare Bob shot in his direction.

"This is no laughing matter, Bart! Such flagrant disregard-"

"Bob, chill. Is it really that big of a deal? So we can't eat here tonight- big whoop. We'll come back another time, when it's less crowded." He snorted. "I doubt they'll lose your reservations again, after that scene you just caused." Bob sputtered indignantly.

"You- why- No, I shall most certainly not chill! The meal in itself is not the issue at hand! This is a matter of principle, of dignity! How such a shoddy, lowbrow establishment has managed to maintain its five-star holding… No doubt the result of venal critics and reviewers." He shook his head, his brow furrowed. "Sycophants, the lot of them." Bart sighed, knowing it would do no good to attempt convincing Bob otherwise, in this state.

"Okay, how about this- we forget about it for now. I said just for now!" He put one hand up, cutting Bob off before he could launch into another tirade. "You can call them tomorrow, and scream at whatever poor sucker is unlucky enough to pick up the phone. But since we're already out, and there's nothing we can do about that restaurant right now… let's go somewhere else and just try to have a little fun." Bob raised one eyebrow in skepticism.

"And what, pray tell, would you suggest? This hovel of a town is sorely lacking, in terms of culture and refinement- and I shudder to even imagine your idea of 'fun.'" Bart punched his arm lightly.

"Oh, c'mon- live a little, would you? I know some places." Bob grimaced.

"Yes- that's what concerns me." Bart sighed heavily.

"Would you just trust me, for once? Please?" Bob opened his mouth to argue, but Bart's imploring expression stopped him. He hung his head in defeat.

"Fine." Bart blinked in surprise, taken aback with the ease at which Bob had given in.

"Wait- seriously?" Bob rolled his eyes.

"Yes. Against my better judgement, I shall allow you to dictate our evening activities." Bart still looked unconvinced.

"Okay, but you have to swear to go along with whatever I choose, no questions asked. Like, no backing out once we get there, okay?"

"...Very well."

"Promise?" Bob fixed him with a glare.

"Do not make me repeat myself," he warned. He immediately regretted his decision to blind acquiescence, as Bart's face broke into a wide, mischievous grin.

"All right!" He hooked his arm through Bob's, chattering excitedly as he led him down a decidedly shady-looking street. "So, my buddy's got this show tonight…"

Bob stopped dead in his tracks, staring in abject horror at the setting before him. True to his word, he'd not protested as they'd made their way progressively deeper into the heart of the student ghetto, though he'd been unable to quell the uneasiness that had been rising steadily as their surroundings had grown more and more questionable. Now, he was mentally berating himself for agreeing to such a foolish plan. The dwelling before them looked as if it had (just barely) withstood a hurricane- the few windows not covered with boards were grimy and cracked; the front porch looked as if it could collapse at any moment, and the door hung crooked on its rusted hinges. The surrounding lawn was in an equal state of disarray, littered with empty bottles, broken chairs, and outright trash. All of this, however, paled in comparison with the sounds issuing from within. Bob supposed that the ungodly racket was intended to be music, but even the thought of comparing such offensive din to respectable art offended him on a fundamental level. A screeching riff from an electric guitar raised goosebumps on his arms, like nails on a chalkboard, and he could feel the excessive bass shaking the ground through the soles of his feet. Thankfully, he could make out no vocals, but he knew that they must be equally horrific.

"Come on, Bob. The party is inside!" He whipped his head around to glare as fiercely as possible at Bart.

"Absolutely not!" He planted his feet even more firmly, digging his heels into the dirt as Bart tugged insistently on his arm.

"Oh, no you don't- you promised, remember?" Bart placed both hands flat against Bob's back, pushing him toward the door despite Bob's best efforts to remain stationary.

"But- this? What exactly are you playing at, taking me to this odious rathole?" he hissed, his eyes narrowed to slits.

"I told you, my buddy's playing tonight. You like music, right?" Bob nearly choked.

"Yes! I enjoy actual music," he snarled, raising his voice as they neared the door. "Not this blasphemous hubbub!"

"What?" Bart shouted, "Sorry, Bob! I can't hear you!" Though Bob couldn't see Bart's face, he could hear the smile in his voice, and it infuriated him.

"Liar!" Bob shouted back, just as Bart gave him one mighty shove that sent him stumbling up the porch steps and through the door.

While the outside of the house was disorderly, the scene that greeted him inside was absolute bedlam. Most of the main floor had been gutted to create a dance floor, which was crawling with dozens of gyrating bodies. Across the room, a trio of "musicians" on a small, raised stage were illuminated beneath a spotlight, head banging and jumping around like crazed animals. And the noise- Bob had never in his life been exposed to such decibel levels! If his hearing suffered permanent damage from this, he was going to actually murder Bart. He froze in place, but no one spared him a second glance- until Bart entered behind him a few seconds later. Several people waved, and almost instantly, a pair of girls dancing (if one could call it that) nearby descended upon them, screeching loudly enough to be heard over the music.

"Baaaart!" One of them screamed, tackling him in an enthusiastic hug. Bob glared daggers at her- to no avail.

"You made iiiit!" Dear God, was everyone here wasted out of their minds? …. Probably, Bob realized.

"Hey, girls! Hope I didn't miss the show!"

"No, they're gonna play next, but these guys just started!" Suddenly, the first girl noticed Bob. "Hiiii!" He nodded tensely to her. "I like your hair!" Bob couldn't say he felt the same of her spiky shock of electric green hair- she rather looked like a cactus, in his opinion.

"Bob, meet Kaylie and Kylie. Ladies, this is Bob!" Bart shouted, and their eyes widened in excitement.

"Ahh! THE Bob?! We finally get to meet him?!" Shrieked the other, a girl with lavender pigtails- he couldn't remember which one was which.

"Oh my goodness, you're sooo right, Bart!" Bob narrowed his eyes at Bart- what the hell had he been telling them?! She leaned closer to Bart- no doubt believing that Bob would be unable to hear her, despite the fact that she was shouting at the top of her lungs- "He is reaaaly hot! Way to go!" Bob blinked, taken aback. Whatever he'd been expecting her to say, it hadn't been that… "We love Bart!" shouted the cactus. "So be niiiiice to hiiiiimmm!" They high-fived Bart, then returned, giggling, to their place on the dance floor. Bart waved to them, then turned to Bob, shrugging sheepishly.

"Sorry, Bob- They've wanted to meet you for a long time!"

"Understandably," Bob shot back, barely able to hear his own voice.

"What?!" This was ridiculous! What was the point of such deafening noise?!

"When are we leaving?!" He bellowed back. Bart shook his head.

"Don't even start, Bob! We're gonna have some fun!"

"I doubt that," Bob muttered.

"What?!" Bob glared in response, but Bart just laughed, grabbing his hand. "C'mon!" To Bob's dismay, Bart pulled him into the midst of the dance floor. He'd never been so claustrophobic in his life! On every side, bodies pressed against his, barely moving aside enough to allow them passage, and what seemed like every person they passed managed to step on his feet. He clung tightly to Bart's hand like a lifeline- the last thing he wanted was to get separated, and be stranded in this. Finally, they emerged at the front of the room- directly next to the blaring speakers. Bob could feel the vibrations in every part of his body, and it was unsettling him greatly. Bart pulled him around the side of the stage, where a young man with a massive mohawk and strangely tiny eyes was tuning his guitar in preparation.

"Hey, Bart! Y-you made it!" Bob could just make out the voice- why was it so familiar? Bob squinted at him, trying to remember where he'd seen him before.

"Yeah, man! When you up?"

"Eh, I think they have fifteen minutes left in this set."

"Sweet! I'll be back, we're gonna grab some drinks! You got your inhaler?"

"Y-yeah, my mom packed me two, just in case!" No… it couldn't be… It was!

"Milhouse?"

"Oh! H-hey, Bob! Sorry, my contacts are kinda dry, I didn't see you. But thanks for coming!" Bob nodded, still trying to wrap his mind around the fact that the rough-looking punk rocker before him was Bart's wimpy friend from childhood. "See ya soon!" Bart took Bob's hand again, and to Bob's relief, they snaked around the edge of the room to a door near the corner of the room. They emerged onto a blessedly quieter- and much emptier raised deck. There were a few groups of people hanging out- all of whom, Bob couldn't help noticing- waved cheerfully to Bart. Just how much time did he spend in places like this?

"Sorry, Bob." Bart sure didn't sound very sorry. "How you holding up, man?" Bob shuddered.

"I… believe I've been witness to more dignified prison riots," he muttered, his ears ringing in the sudden quiet.

"Aww, come on. It could be worse." Bob snorted.

"Indeed it could- I could be incinerated alive, though at least that would most likely end quickly." Bart shot him a reproachful look.

"Bob, can you at least try to relax a little? You might have fun, if you let yourself." Bob scoffed, but didn't even dignify such a foolish remark with a response. Bart sighed. "Fine. Be miserable- your loss." Bart turned, walking toward the far wall. He'd looked so disappointed, Bob felt slightly bad- just slightly. He hurried to catch up with Bart, trying not to stare at the colorful characters all around them. He didn't see a single body without some sort of tattoo or unusual piercing- then again, he himself had more than his fair share of questionable ink… "Hey, Nelson. What's shakin?" Bart half-hugged a burly man who'd been leaning against a refrigerator.

"Eh, the usual. You? I didn't think you were gonna be here tonight." Bart shrugged.

"Our plans fell through, so… we improvised. Bob's having a good time." Bob shifted uncomfortably under Nelson's scrutiny.

"Yeah?" His face broke into a wide grin. "Good for you! Haven't seen you here before, but you're always welcome!" Bob nodded stiffly.

"My deepest gratitude," he mumbled. Why was he so nervous? He wasn't used to feeling so self-conscious, but something about seeing Bart's old friends always made him anxious. Nelson gave them each a hearty pat on the back. "Hope you two have a great time! Let me know if ya need anything!"

"Will do, thanks Nels."

"Smell ya later!" Bart turned to Bob.

"This is Nelson's place. I know, I know- it seems really shady, but he keeps it under control. In all the years he's been hosting gigs here, there's only been one or two fights, and he put an end to 'em like that-" he snapped his fingers to demonstrate.

"Such lofty aspirations!" Bob grumbled sarcastically. Bart scowled.

"Okay, that's it." A tiny glimmer of hope that they might be leaving flared, and was extinguished just as quickly as Bart opened the refrigerator, grabbing two tall beers. He cracked them open, pressing one into Bob's hands, despite his protests. "Nope. Drink. You need to relax." Bob sighed in resignation. He was incredibly thirsty, and though he knew the beer would do nothing to hydrate him… it was so cold. Still, he had his reservations.

"You trust this?" He gestured toward the refrigerator, which looked as if it may have been white- years ago.

"Yep."

"Doesn't it bother you in the slightest that any one of these malefactors could have stocked these beverages, or tampered with them?"

"Nope." Bart's concise answers were getting on Bob's nerves.

"Fine!" Without another word, he drained the entire beverage, then shoved the empty can back into Bart's hands. "Happy?" Bart smiled widely.

"Almost!" Bart immediately replaced Bob's drink with a new one.

"Excuse me?!" Bart shook his head.

"You promised."

"I promised that you could choose our evening excursion, but-" Bart set one finger to Bob's lips.

"Actually, I said that you had to promise to 'go along with whatever I choose, no questions asked.' Remember?."

"But-" Bart pressed his finger down harder.

"Remember?" Bob's shoulders slumped in defeat, and he nodded. "Okay. Just one, more, then you're good. But you gotta drink this one." Bob snatched the beer from Bart's grip.

"I have to, not gotta," he snapped in irritation. Bart shook his head.

"Nope. You gotta." Bob scowled defiantly at Bart as he drank the second beer as quickly as he could, though despite his best efforts, it was slightly slower than the first. They were larger than an average beer, and he could feel the alcohol from the first one warming him slightly. "And just for the record, Bob, you might wanna be more specific, when you agree to things in the future. You never know when someone might turn your own words against you."

"Evidently," Bob grumbled, though there was no real malice behind the response. He was surprised to find that he was already feeling much more at ease, and with the last gulp, he peered at the can. He choked as he spied the alcohol volume.

"Easy, buddy," Bart warned, rubbing his back as he coughed.

"Fifteen percent?" Bob managed to splutter. "Bart, why would you not warn me?!" Bart shrugged, the very picture of innocence.

"Oops. Forgot." Bob groaned. He would be fine- his alcohol tolerance wasn't that low- but he'd just consumed the equivalent of an average bottle of wine in under ten minutes. He also knew damn well that Bart hadn't forgotten.

"Bartholomew Simpson, I do not appreciate your perfidious scheme to intoxicate me," He told Bart sternly. Bart tilted his own beer toward Bob nonchalantly.

"Hey, it worked, didn't it? You're already chilling out a little."

"I believe one beverage would have been more than sufficient!" Bob insisted. Bart nodded thoughtfully.

"Maybe. Guess we'll never know now though, huh?" Bob tried to fix Bart with an intimidating glower, but the effect was ruined as he let loose a rather impressive burp. The music from inside fell silent, and Bart's face lit up. "Hey! Milhouse's band is up next! Let's go!" He grabbed Bob's hand, catching him off balance as he practically yanked him along behind him. Bob knew this would normally annoy him- he should snap at Bart to be more careful, to please not wrench his arm from its socket, thank you very much- but he just couldn't bring himself to be angry, when Bart looked so content.

Inside, the crowd was milling about excitedly, and despite everything, Bob was having a hard time keeping from smiling. Everybody here was just so darn happy; the energy was infectious. Every person he'd interacted with had treated him with warmth and acceptance, and they all seemed to love Bart- not that he blamed them, of course. It was just… really great that Bart had so many good friends.

"What's so funny, Bob?" With a jolt, he realized that he'd been staring at Bart, an idiotic grin plastered on his face. Damn, he got sappy when he drank… "Oh! There he is!" Bart smacked Bob's arm, pointing to the front of the room where Milhouse had taken center stage, flanked by three women.

"Alright, everybody! We're Thrillhouse! Now, who's ready to rock?" The room erupted into deafening cheers, and the performers took their places. The first few notes staggered Bob, but once he'd again adjusted to the volume, he was surprised to find that he didn't outright hate the music.

"Come on, Bob! Dance! Dance with me!" Bart urged, bouncing up and down in front of Bob. To be fair, The rhythm was very upbeat (much more cheerful than the previous band), the female vocals were catchy, and he had to admit- Milhouse played a mean guitar. Maybe it was the alcohol making him agreeable, but Milhouse's band wasn't actually too terrible. "Please?!" Oh, what the hell, it looked like fun. Just one small problem...

"How?" He looked down at his feet, and Bart laughed, taking one of Bob's hands into his own.

"Just go with the music, man! Or jump, or copy me, if you want- whatever feels right! There's no wrong way; it's just for fun!" Bob looked around, but as Bart had said, everyone seemed to be doing their own variation. He began bobbing his head to the beat, but faltered when Kaylie- or was it Kylie? The cactus-haired girl- pointed to his head, her hand over her mouth.

"Oh nooooo, Bob! Don't stop! Your hair is made for headbanging!" She took his other hand, then motioned for Kylie (Kaylie? Bob was so confused) to join hands with her and Bart, the four of them forming a circle. "C'mon, guys! Let's bounce!" A tiny voice in the back of his mind protested- this type of behavior was frivolous, utterly undignified, and childish to the extreme! Had he no sense of pride?! His movements began to slow as it chastised him for getting caught up in the heat of the moment. Bart gave his hand a gentle squeeze, and Bob glanced at him. His attention was focused on Bob, his eyes full of concern.

"What's wrong? You okay?" Bart mouthed. Bob's chest swelled with emotion; he blinked away tears and let himself move freely again with the music as he grinned at Bart.

"I'm doing real good," he replied, intentionally using appalling grammar- just to spite that little voice.

Bart smiled back at him, and Bob could imagine no sight more beautiful. As they danced, he found himself entranced by the peaceful, joyous expression Bart wore. He looked so light, so free, that Bob couldn't tear his gaze away. He turned to the cactus girl, extracting his hand from her vice-like grip. "Excuse me- I'm very sorry, but I've something incredibly important to do right now." She furrowed her brow in confusion, but didn't miss a beat as she continued dancing. Bob pulled Bart closer, easing his hand from Bart's grip.

"Bob? What's-" He felt momentarily guilty as concern once again flashed across his face- but the sight only strengthened his resolve. "-oh..." He tenderly cupped Bart's cheeks between his palms, his thumb softly caressing one cheekbone. His already elevated heartbeat quickened as wide blue eyes rose to meet his, sparkling in the dim, pulsing light. Bart's hands ghosted across his chest, then balled into loose fists as he grasped the front of Bob's jacket, pulling him closer. He saw the rise and fall of Bart's chest speed up, his own breathing shallow and rapid as he closed the distance between them. Their lips brushed for an instant, but Bart froze, pulling away slightly. Bob's gaze was intent and unwavering, but Bart's eyes darted hesitantly back and forth. Still, gentle, firm hands framed his face.

"Bart, trust me- we're okay," he assured him, but Bart looked unconvinced. They'd been out about their relationship for almost a year, but they'd reserved their physical displays of affection for the privacy of their home. Though Springfield was, overall, an accepting community, there had been enough instances of homophobia to make them cautious.

"B-But- what if-" It broke his heart to see Bart so worried, so frightened just to express his love- especially when he so clearly wanted to. He caressed Bart's cheek, tucking an errant lock of hair behind his ear.

"Oh, Bart." He sighed. "Look around us. Does anyone seem bothered?" After a furtive peek, Bart shook his head. "These are your friends. I had my doubts about this place, but I saw how they greeted you- they adore you Bart, and they welcomed me with open arms. We're safe here, love." Bart glanced around once more, and happened to make eye contact with the cactus girl- who was still dancing her heart out. He smiled nervously, giving her a tentative wave. To Bob's relief, she responded by beaming back at him and giving him an enthusiastic two thumbs-up. Bart turned back to Bob, his smile finally reaching his eyes. "What do you think?" Bart pretended to ponder the question for a moment.

"I think…" he circled his arms around Bob's neck, pulling him lower even as Bart stretched upward. "That you should kiss me now," he murmured as quietly as the music would allow. Bob draped his arms protectively around Bart's shoulders.

"And I think that can be arranged."

They were the only two stationary bodies in the room- a blur of movement, lights, and vibrations whirled around them, but Bob barely registered any of it. All that existed in this moment was Bart- all that mattered was the two of them, holding each other close. So oblivious were they to everything around them, that they didn't notice the small audience they'd attracted- until they broke apart. They blinked in surprise, glancing around as the dancers in the surrounding vicinity broke into enthusiastic applause. Bart flushed bright red, and even Bob's cheeks felt a bit warm (though it may have been the alcohol in his bloodstream). He just smiled and nodded to the onlookers in acknowledgement, keeping one arm around Bart and kissing the top of his head- prompting a fresh round of whistles and clapping. As if on cue, the song ended, and Milhouse again took the microphone.

"You guys have been a great crowd; thanks for all the support and love you've shown us tonight. The next band is almost up, but we have one more number for you before we go. This one is pretty special- it's dedicated to someone in this room tonight. Now, the title is a little cheesy, but… it says it all, and as soon as I tell you, you're gonna know who it's for." Bob got the feeling that everyone already knew, but to their credit, they allowed him to finish. "Alright! Here goes 'Brother from Another Mother!'" The roar from the crowd was powerful enough to drown out the first few chords, and suddenly Bob and Bart found themselves surrounded. Bart was hoisted into the air, then passed through the crowd above their heads. After a moment of surprise, he threw himself into it wholeheartedly, spreading his arms and surfing the crowd like a true professional.

"Hey! Hey! Heyyyyy!" Bob jumped slightly as a shrill voice right beside him threatened to pierce his already aching eardrums. Kaylie and Kylie were jumping up and down on either side of him, trying to attract the attention of their friends.

"We gotta get him up there toooo!"

"What?! No! No, thank you!" Bob attempted to evade the three muscular men descending upon him, but his reaction time was just slightly too slow. They lifted him with ease, and Bob was on his way across the crowd. He refused to look at the ground, reminding himself that they hadn't dropped Bart, so they probably wouldn't drop him, either… then again, there had been a lot of alcohol consumed on the premises. He did his best to mimic Bart's technique, but found that he had a hard time focusing while being groped by at least five pairs of hands at any given time. Finally, he arrived near the stage, and managed to dismount the "wave" without bodily harm. He found a wall, leaning against it for a moment to catch his breath. Well, this hadn't been what he'd planned for this night- then again, he never would have planned this for any night, but he was almost glad the restaurant had lost their reservations. He was actually… kind of having fun. Well, 'fun' might be little too strong of a word, but he wasn't miserable, and Bart was enjoying himself. Actually, he seemed to be having the time of his life, still going strong atop the crowd, which had been chanting his name since the start of the song, and he was high-fiving almost everyone along the way. Bob smiled, shaking his head as he watched. He truly was something special…

Wait. Oh no! He fumbled frantically in his pockets, his heart sinking as he came up empty. His head flopped back, hitting the wall with a resounding 'thunk,' and he sank to the floor. How could he have been so careless- and how the hell could he have forgotten that was in his pocket?! It had literally been the whole point of their date in the first place… Maybe he could sneak back in after the place had cleared out and search the dance floor? Of course, that was assuming it had fallen out during his ride. He had a sneaking suspicion that one of the hundreds of hands he'd been passed amongst had found its way into his pocket. Well, it was his own fault, really. He should have known better, than to get complacent, in a place like this, he-

"Heyyyyy, Bob!" He rolled his eyes. He was no longer in the mood to deal with the human cactus.

"What is it?" He snapped. She smiled brightly at him, unaffected by his brusque response. She plopped down on the floor beside him.

"I think you dropped this when they picked you up." She held out a small object. Bob stared at it for a moment, scarcely believing his eyes. Not only had it not been stolen… it had been returned to him? He'd heard stories of such scrupulous people, but had doubted their existence until this very moment. "That's yours, right?" He nodded, taking it gingerly from her outstretched palm.

"You have… no idea how much I appreciate you bringing this to me. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart." She glanced around, her gaze landing on Bart. She leaned closer to Bob- again, grossly misjudging her voice's ability to carry.

"Okay but is that-" she raised her eyebrows. Bob bit back the urge to tell her to mind her own business, instead nodding. He did owe her, after all. A small squeal of excitement escaped her. "I knew it! So when are you gonna-" She again waggled her eyebrows up and down. Bob sighed.

"It was my intention to do so earlier tonight, but I hit an unforeseen roadblock. I'm not sure when it will happen; I need to revise my plan." She frowned.

"But... isn't that kinda exactly what it's all about? Because sometimes crazy things happen, and you can't always plan for 'em, but it's okay. Right?" Bob was so caught up in trying to figure out how something could be 'kinda exactly' anything that he almost missed her point. He opened his mouth to argue, but stopped, staring at her in shock.

"You… are correct," he mused in disbelief. Who would have thought a succulent would be the one to give him some of the most profound advice of his life?

"Okay, so are you gonna do it?!" Her eyebrows seemed to have lives of their own.

"Yes I am!" He asserted, jumping to his feet and helping her to hers.

"Yayyyy! This song is almost overrrr!" He looked at her seriously.

"I need to get to the stage! Don't say anything to Bart about this, please." She was bouncing again- perhaps she was actually made of rubber?

"Well duhhh!" She rolled her eyes. "Go! Go! Gooooo!" He was already headed in that direction, but stopped, turning back to the cactus girl.

"I'm sorry, miss- this is terribly embarrassing, but… are you Kaylie, or Kylie?" She frowned, tilting her head to the side.

"Um, I'm Karlie." Huh...

"Right. Quite sorry, it was very loud earlier." She shrugged.

"It's cool! People call me Aloe Vera, sometimes. I don't know why." Bob shrugged thoughtfully.

"Not technically a type of cacti, but… close enough."

"Um, what?"

"Oh, nothing." She puffed out her cheeks in annoyance.

"Okay, whateverrrrrr!" She pointed to the stage. "Gooooo!" Bob gave her a curt nod, then fought his way through the crowd back to the stage. He was about ten feet from the the steps as the song concluded, and Milhouse addressed the crowd.

"Thank you very much! That was 'Brother from Another Mother,' for my very best friend growing up, Bart Simpson!" He waited for the crowd to calm down before finishing. "That's it for us, dudes! Thank you for welcoming Thrillhouse for our very first time, and we'll see you again next week!" The stage light dimmed. Bob lurched forward as he tripped up the stairs, almost landing on top of Milhouse. He squinted at Bob for a moment. "Bob? Is that you? Are you okay? You seem kinda winded." Bob nodded, raising one finger as he caught his breath.

"Yes. I'm fine. Thank you, Milhouse. I wondered… if I might be able to use the microphone? Just for a moment?" Milhouse shrugged, handing it to Bob.

"I mean, I guess- it's not my microphone, so I don't care."

"Splendid. Now then, if I might be so bold as to request illumination?" Milhouse looked helplessly toward the members of his band. They rolled their eyes, flicking the switch and bathing the tiny stage in a cool, bluish-white glow. "Thank you." Bob took a few deep breaths, putting his thoughts in order, then turned his attention toward the curious crowd. He always felt slightly more at ease, with the spotlight trained on him…

"Ladies, gentlemen, and others- I first would like to thank you all for the hospitality you've shown me tonight. I was a bit of a poor sport about coming here in the first place, but fortunately…" his eyes roamed the room until they landed on Bart- who knew what was coming, from the looks of things. He had his hands clasped over his mouth, and even from a distance, Bob could tell that there were probably tears. Karlie and… the lavender pigtails girl were on either side of him, each with an arm around his shoulders. "Fortunately, I have someone who never gives up on me, no matter how insufferable I may be. Now. As some of you may know, I am not one to approach anything haphazardly- I need a plan. I calculate every detail of every endeavor, so as to ensure maximum probability of success. If, however, for whatever reason, any step of the plan is compromised… the mission is aborted, and it's back to the drawing board." He hung his head. "I don't get much done- my plans are often, admittedly, fundamentally flawed." The audience chuckled, looking around in an attempt to figure out exactly what was happening. He sighed.

"Well, my friends… I started this evening with a very important plan." He looked around. "This was not part of it… but I don't care. I am breaking my own rules, throwing the plan out the window- and what better place to do so than here, am I correct?" The audience cheered loudly. When the room was again silent, Bob turned to Bart- there were definitely tears now. "Bart… That restaurant was extravagant, but impersonal. No one there knows us, or gives a damn about us once we've paid the bill- and if I'd had my way, we would have simply gone home. I would still be writing angry emails to restaurant executives, and you would have missed Milhouse's first performance of your song. This place…" he looked around. "Is strangely appealing. I can't explain it logically, so I shan't try, but… it means the world to me that you would share this part of your life with me, and… well, I hope you'll agree to share the rest of it with me, as well."

Hushed whispers broke out all across the dance floor as everyone turned, trying to find Bart. Bob hadn't taken his eyes off of him. He hopped off the stage, and the audience parted for him as he made his way to where Bart was (unsuccessfully) trying to dry his constant stream of tears. "Bart-" He sank to one knee. It was cliche, he knew- but there was a reason it was cliche, God damn it- it was romantic! He held out the ring that Karlie/Aloe Vera had returned to him. "Tonight… I have no reservations- in more ways than one." He swallowed hard, willing his voice not to crack. "Will you marry me, Bart Simpson?" Bart was tugging at his arm, but Bob refused to stand until he'd gotten an answer. He knew he appeared collected, but… he was sweating profusely, and his stomach was churning violently. He needed an answer. Now. Bart snatched the ring, jamming it onto his finger.

"Damn it, Bob, yes! Yes! Of course I'll marry you, stand up!" Bob heaved a huge sigh, rising to his feet- and was almost knocked backwards as Bart threw himself at him, latching his arms around his neck and kissing him with abandon. The response from the crowd was unlike any Bob had witnessed all night- he seriously though he might have permanent hearing loss now, but… he couldn't have cared less. Once Bart finally relinquished his death grip on Bob's throat, Thrillhouse- who had apparently never finished putting away their gear- returned to the stage.

"So, uh, I know it's our first show and all, but-"

"Brother From Another Mother!" The crowd demanded in unison, cutting him off. He nodded.

"Yeah, uh, that's kinda what I figured. Congrats, Bob and Bart!" He nodded to the rest of the crowd. "You guys know what to do." As they struck the first chords, Bob and Bart were again lifted above the crowd- this time a little more carefully. Bob was glad- he didn't think Bart would have let go of his hand, even if it had broken his arm. Hand-in-hand, they were passed around the room again and again- not once taking their eyes off one another.

A/N: Hello, everyone! Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed it. My friend told me about an episode of Fraiser where they lose their reservations, and that was all it took to get this whole thing going.

I wrote this in one sitting, more or less. I wrote the very first part, with a different ending (which will probably be turned into a different fic at some point), but it just didn't feel right. It was about midnight, and I went to bed, but I was just getting angry that it hadn't gone the way I wanted it to. Then it just came to me all at once, and I sat up in bed like, "I know what needs to happen!" And then I wrote LITERALLY all night, and most of the next day. It ended up being almost 15 hours. Because yes, I am insane.

As it stands, I'm not planning a sequel or anything, but you never know. I don't plan my writing. It's like love: if it happens, it happens.

Fun facts: The house in ths is based on a house I went to one time for a friend's boyfriend's show. The stage was in the basement, but everything else was basically just like I wrote it. It was totally outside my comfort zone, but everyone was super nice, and I ended up having a blast. Also, the dancing girls are loosely based on a group of people at a concert I went to who came over to my friend and me and got us to "bounce with them" (They may have been on ecstasy).

I love hearing from you, so please let me know what you think!

~A