Burns' Gloria Days

"I still can't believe she left me," said Burns, dejected as he gazed into his reflection from the passenger window of his limousine as Smithers pulled in front of Burns Manor.

"Well, I guess it just wasn't meant to be," said Smithers, suppressing his guilty glee at the dissolution of Burns' relationship with Gloria. He exited the vehicle and opened the door for Mr. Burns.

They walked up the steps. "But we met on Flag Day! We were destined for each other."

Smithers touched his elbow and guided him inside. "Well, sometimes, sir, the person we're sure we're destined for, doesn't seem to agree we're destined for each other."

"It's not only her sexy, youthful looks that appeal to me. There's also the way she doted on me," he said, handing his jacket to Smithers, who hung it up on a hook and began to comb through his hair, straightening it up. "And there's the way she delighted in my malevolent laugh."

"Who could resist?"

"And there's the way she would imitate my... 'excellent's."

"Oh, sir... she was never... excellent enough for you."

"And she gave superb neck massages."

Smithers began to massage the back of his neck.

"But you know what I miss most of all?"

"No, sir. What?"

"Just knowing that someone was completely into me. At least, I thought she was." He moaned slightly. "Oh, Smithers. That feels so good. You could've taught Gloria a trick or two."

"Good, sir. I'm glad."

"We should sit down. I don't think I have the constitution to remain standing through your massage."

"Good idea. How about we sit over here?" Smithers guided him to a nearby burgundy settee, never interrupting his massage.

"I had thought I'd finally found someone who appreciated me for me, someone who genuinely enjoyed my company without secretly plotting against me."

"I... appreciate you, sir."

"And what cold comfort that is."

"Is there anything I can do to be a warmer comfort?"

After thinking it over a moment, Burns said, "Play me something on the piano."

He dragged his hands down Burns' neck, squeezed his shoulders slightly, then let go. "I'd love to. Would you prefer Bach, Ravel, Debussy..."

"Mahler."

"Mahler it is." They headed for the piano room, a room that felt dark and cast in shadows despite abundant sunbeams streaming through glass arch windows with stained glass panels and criss cross iron window covers, illuminating the dark stained cherry wood floors and blue silk rug leading to a black Steinway concert grand piano nine feet in length. He led Burns to lie back on a maroon divan and went to a drawer, pulled out some sheet music, and sat at the piano bench. He selected the music for Mahler's Adagietto from Symphony No. 5, laid it out in front of him, and began to play.

"Oh, Smithers, I had so many plans for us."

"Like what, sir?"

"A wedding, for one thing, and a honeymoon. I'd have taken her anywhere in the world."

"It's her loss."

Burns rolled his eyes. "Oh, brother..."

"I mean it, sir. There's nowhere I'd rather be than here with you. Entertaining you, making you feel better..."

"You do enjoy working for me, don't you?"

"More than anything."

"Well, just because you have a sorry social life doesn't mean I'm content with the same." He turned over onto his side so as to face Smithers. "But then, I suppose we both have that problem – our lives revolve entirely around our work."

"What can I say? I'm married to the job. But I'm okay with that. It's a lot better than being married to my ex-wife."

Burns chuckled. "Yes, I guess there are worse fates than being married to one's work."

"I'm glad you agree."

"Smithers?"

"Yes, sir?"

"When's the last time you were rejected by a woman?"

"A couple decades ago, at least." Realizing how it sounded, he quickly added, "But I haven't pursued a woman in as long as that. If I had, I'm sure I'd have been rejected lots of times."

"So that's why you're still single? You're afraid of being rejected?"

"Yes, actually. I am afraid of being rejected."

"Don't you miss going out with girls, taking a chance and flirting with a cutie?"

"Well... I don't go out so much, but I do flirt with at least one cutie."

"Isn't it wonderful? Saying something sweet and eliciting a blush and a giggle from your paramour?"

Smithers kept playing as he met Burns' gaze, his eyes glistening in the sunlight. "Monty, your eyes shine beautifully just like diamonds, but they're more precious than Californium."

Burns blushed and giggled. "Smithers, ever the jokester."

"What makes you think I'm joking?"

"Excuse me?"

"You always think I'm joking or sucking up when I compliment you. I'm not, though. I'm completely sincere."

"You are, are you?"

"Yes, Monty, I am. I truly love... being with you. I always have."

"Then why did you hesitate, hm?"

"Because I couldn't put my finger on it right away. I love making you meals. I love reading to you. I love going to the opera with you. I love playing music with you. I love talking with you. I love holding you when you're scared. I love laughing with you when you're triumphant."

"I like being with you, too."

"Just 'like,' sir?"

"Yes, 'like.'"

Smithers winced and gulped as he hit the keys more forcefully and yet, simultaneously more languidly. "I guess you're not the only one who was wrong about fate, then."

"What do you mean?"

"Sir – do you remember the day we met?"

"Yes, vividly. Your mother was in the hospital, and your father brought you to work –"

"No, I don't mean when I was a baby. I mean, when I was older."

"Oh, yes. I nearly was trampled by that mob roaming the streets."

"You mean the parade?"

"Yes, and you extended your arm and lifted me out before I could be crushed."

"Do you remember what that parade was for?"

"Oh, now let's see... it wasn't the Thanksgiving Day parade, as it was much too warm out. It wasn't St. Patrick's, as there wasn't much green about. Hm... let me think..." He rubbed at his chin. "I've got it! It was the fourth of July, wasn't it?"

Smithers stopped playing and slowly turned to look him in the eyes as he said, "It was Flag Day, sir."

"Flag Day, you say?"

Smithers nodded slowly.

"Hm." Burns sat up. "You know what, Smithers? I'm in the mood for a duet." He stood and approached the cabinet where they stored the sheet music, then took some to the piano and sat beside Smithers on the bench, swiping Mahler's music to the floor to make way for Heart and Soul by Hoagy Carmichael and Frank Loesser. Smithers cheerfully played the lower part and Burns the higher part, and they sang in unison, shoulder to shoulder.

"Heart and soul, I begged to be adored, lost control..." Each knew his part well, and they scarcely looked at their keys, smiling as they sang, each relishing in sharing a song with someone who really enjoyed his company.

"Oh! But your lips were thrilling, much too thrilling. Never before were mine so strangely willing..." Their cheeks got close, and Burns pulled back suddenly.

"But now I see what one embrace can do – look at me! It's got me loving you madly... That little kiss you stole held all my heart and soul." They lifted their hands off the keys and looked at each other, each wearing a nervous smile.

"Smithers, I'm exhausted," said Burns, standing from the piano bench. "Take me to bed."

Smithers smiled, his eyelids lowered as he placed his hands upon Burns' shoulders. "I'll take to you to bed, then."

As they walked down the halls to his master bedroom, Burns said, "I thought if I'd get married, I would have a companion to share my life with."

"You can always share it with me."

"You wouldn't want me to share everything of myself with you, though, eh?" he said with a wink.

"Oh, um..." Smithers chuckled nervously, feeling his face get hot, then put his arm around Burns' back and said, "I would share anything with you."

They walked in a tense silence the rest of the way to Burns' room, where Smithers retrieved his nightgown and changed Burns into it, then pulled open the covers to let him slip under them. "Smithers? Read me a poem," he said in a quietly pleading voice.

"Certainly," said Smithers, laying his hand on Burns', then reaching down to the small shelf of books situated in the nightstand. "How does Auden sound tonight?"

"Excellent."

Smithers tittered at his "excellent" and opened the book. "'Lay your sleeping head, my love, human on my faithless arm...'" By the end of the first stanza, Burns had fallen asleep. "'...Mortal, guilty, but to me, the entirely beautiful.' Goodnight, Monty." He turned the light out and began to stand, but found resistance and looked down to see Burns' hand clasped around his wrist. He sat back down and looked again to his apparently still-sleeping face. With the fingertips of his other hand, he grazed Burns' cheek.

Between slumbrous exhalations, Burns murmured, "I love... being with Smithers."

Without a second thought, Smithers leaned in and embraced him, then brought their lips together in a tender yet urgent gesture. His eyes were closed, and so he remained oblivious to Burns' own eyes opening as he awakened. Burns closed his eyes again when Smithers stroked the back of his head from his bald crown to the short scruffs of hair behind to the back of his ear, dislodging his night cap. A mischievous grin settling into place, Burns quickly reached his arms out around Smithers, startling him out of the kiss and out of the embrace.

"Sir! I-I- I was just checking that you were still breathing! Sometimes your breaths get awfully shallow."

"Oh, end the charade. You want me, Waylon."

Smithers' eyes widened as far as possible, and his jaw hung open, but the only thing he could say was the truth. "Yes, Monty. Oh, you don't know how much I want you. How much I've always wanted you."

"So this is why you refused to join me on my dates. You wanted me for yourself."

"Yes, sir. I've wanted nothing more for two decades, now." Burns burst into laughter, and Smithers sat on the bed beside him. "What's so funny?"

"You've been after me for a score of years and never divulged it to a soul?"

"Well, more like a score and twain. And most of the town has known for awhile. You're the last one to find out."

Burns straightened his face, realizing the joke was actually on him. "So you weren't joking..."

"Huh?"

"On Flag Day. About how we were the only ones together, and I was to find true love that day."

"Oh, right."

"You weren't joking, were you?" he said, this time intent on confirming his suspicion.

"No, I wasn't." He took Burns' hands and said, "Monty, I love you."

"This is all happening so fast..."

"That's all right, sir, I understand. If you need time alone, I –"

"Stay right where you are." He scrutinized Smithers' expression, his lips pursed slightly in tension, eyes boring through to his. "I have wondered for some time whether it's time for me to try something new." Smithers held his breath. "Lie down." Smithers instantly plopped backward onto the bed, his head missing the pillow by an inch, but he made no attempt to scoot back, his lungs finally letting go of his breath to draw in more oxygen. "Stay here," said Burns, getting out of bed and leaving him alone in the darkened room.

Smithers couldn't tell whether he was ecstatic or terrified. A little of both, maybe. No, a lot of both. Despite his agonizing fears, he felt a deep-seated conviction that something very good was about to happen. He passed the time attempting to regulate his breathing.

After seven torturous minutes, Burns came back, a torch in one hand and a cup of tea in the other. He placed the torch in a holder affixed to the wall by the door and approached Smithers with the tea and held it out to him. "You like Earl Grey, don't you?"

Smithers took the teacup and saucer into his hands, eyes watering as he said, "Oh, Monty. I love it." He blew on the tea as Burns sat beside him on the bed, and once it was drinkable, he took a small sip, then invited Burns to do the same. "Thank you." After taking a few sips, he set the tea on the nightstand. "Is there anything else you want to talk about?"

"Like what?" said Burns, nonchalant.

"Like... this?" Smithers gestured between them.

"So, I fixed you a cup of tea. Do you want to award me a Pulitzer? Now, get some shuteye."

"O-okay, sir."

"Monty."

"Of course. Goodnight, Monty." He tucked Burns' night cap firmly around his head and scooted back so his head met the pillow, leaned over and kissed Burns' cheek, then laid his head on his pillow, eyes still open and watching Burns'. Burns closed his hand around Smithers' bicep and snuggled against him. Smithers brought his other arm around Burns' waist, gripping him firmly.

"Goodnight, Waylon." They lay together in the dark, stroking each other. "I've long wanted to try something with you, but I could never risk bringing it up. What if you said 'no'? What if you quit? What if you refused to be my companion any longer?"

"I've feared all those things, too, but what matters is that now, we know those fears were all unfounded, and now nothing stands between us."

"Waylon?"

"Yes?"

"Nothing. I just like saying your first name."

"Oh. Goodnight, Monty."

"Goodnight, Waylon." He peered over at Smithers' shut eyes and said, "I love you," then lightly touched Smithers' cheek with the palm of his hand and kissed his lips, and in that kiss, he felt truly wanted in a way he'd never felt before. "'Not a whisper, not a thought, not a kiss nor look be lost.'"

AUTHOR NOTE: I wrote this today to get out of writer's block. I think it's because all my other stories have detailed outlines. So I watched A Hunka Hunka Burns in Love and decided to write a short little story taking place after that without knowing what the plot was going to be or how I would end it. It took about two-and-a-half hours.