Chapter 6

It Takes Two

The moment he stepped through the doors to Costington's, Smithers was waylaid by Mr. Costington, who eagerly shook his hands while stretching his lips into a wide, almost flirtatious smile. "Mr. Smithers, my dear, dear Mr. Smithers – or is it Mr. Burns now? All of us in the Costington's retail family are brimming with happiness that you two have finally–"

"Spare me the sales pitch. I invented that ingratiating smile." Costington's mouth twitched open, caught off guard by Smithers laying bare his motives. "And it's still Smithers."

"Of course, Mr. Smithers. Is there anything I can do to improve your shopping experience today?"

"Actually, there are a few kitchen appliances you could help me find."

"Certainly, anything."

Smithers pulled a small folded paper out of his pocket and read from it: "A salad dressing shaker, a strawberry slicer, a corn de-cobber, and an egg cuber."

"Right away, sir," he said, leaving to fetch the items.

While Smithers stood there, he spotted Marge eyeing some curtains and approached her. "Marge! I haven't seen you since the wedding. How have you been?"

"Pretty good, pretty good. Except we have to live in a motel for a few weeks while they repair the house."

"Goodness, what happened to your house?"

"A satellite fell through the roof. Thank God we were at church."

"That's doing 'pretty good'?"

"For our family, I'm afraid so." She felt the fabric of some short pink and yellow curtains between her fingers. "Hmm...what do you think about these? Our motel room is kind of dreary, and I want something cheerful to shield my children from the sleaze outside."

"Forget about those curtains," he said, pushing them back against the rack.

"You don't like them? What about these?" she said, gesturing to some lime green and orange curtains.

"No, no, Marge. What I mean is, forget about staying in that motel. Come stay with Monty and me."

"Hm...are you sure he wouldn't mind?"

"Of course not."

That night...

"Um, honey? Remember when you said we should do something to thank the Simpsons for helping me out during my time of need?"

"That doesn't sound like me."

"Okay, I said it, but you agreed."

"What exactly did you have in mind?"

"Well, I invited them to stay here for a few weeks while their house is being repaired."

"Forget it. We're not running a hostel for wayward peasants!"

"But sweetie, these are my friends."

"And stop sugaring me up with your saccharine pet names. Why would you want to consort with the dregs of society, anyway?"

"They took me in when you abandoned me." Smithers sniffled involuntarily at the word "abandoned". Then, voice firm and authoritative, he said, "They're staying, and that's final."

"All right," he said, teeth together. "They can stay. But if they break even one thing, I'll toss them out like cold filet mignon."

Outside the door to the mansion that evening, Homer turned to the kids and pointed at Bart, then Lisa, then Maggie as he said, "No slingshots, no politics, no shooting Mr. Burns." He rang the doorbell.

Smithers, an oven mitt on one hand, answered the door. "Why, if it isn't our good friends the Simpsons! Come on in. Dinner is almost ready." He ushered them in. "Just set your suitcases by the Rodin. You can get them when I show you to your rooms after dinner."

Homer and Bart looked to each other in confusion. Marge said, "It's that one," pointing to a statue about as tall as she was (minus the hair height) of a nude woman standing, arms curled around her breasts as if discovering shame for the first time.

Smithers guided the Simpsons to the seats on one end of Burns' long dinner table, while Smithers and Burns sat on the other end.

"This dish is delish," said Marge, chuckling. "Thank you so much for everything, Waylon...Monty. It's very generous of you to welcome us into your home."

Burns cleared his throat. "Yes, well, when Smithers said you were going to stay here, I told him I couldn't be more delighted. Isn't that right, dear?" He jabbed playfully at Smithers' elbow.

Smithers chuckled. "That's right."

"So, how long exactly do you plan to stay?" said Burns.

"Well," Marge said, "the contractors said two to three weeks." After taking a few bites, she said, "We're so glad that you two have found happiness with each other. You make such an adorable couple."

Smithers chuckled nervously as he looked sideways to Burns, knowing he wouldn't appreciate the sentiment. "I wouldn't say 'adorable'. More like 'fierce'."

"Yes, fierce," said Burns. "We are the fiercest pair Springfield has ever known." He grinned malevolently, and Smithers grinned impishly, for he knew full well that Burns was oblivious to the gay connotation that word had taken on.

In a low whisper, he said, "Monty. You know that thing we discussed."

"I know, and you know what I said," he whispered back.

"And you know what I said."

"Nuff," he sighed. "Very well."

"Marge, how would you and Homer like to double date with us at the Gilded Truffle this Thursday night?"

"That sounds lovely, Waylon." She looked to the kids. "Mmm...what about the children?"

"Oh, we'll hire some people to watch them."

"I don't know, we've had trouble with babysitters before."

"We'll hire only the best."

"It's a date, then."

"I hope it was as good for you as it was for me," said Burns, leaning back against the headrest, his hands behind his head as he sighed in relief.

"Ooh, Monty, that was wonderful."

"I was apprehensive at first, but I'm glad we finally did it."

"It was worth the wait."

"I'm glad you feel that way," Burns said as he leaned over in his bed, his blanket falling and exposing his bare chest to the cool air as he curled his finger around a long blue lock, "my dear Marjorie."

Burns awoke with a start. He would've bolted upright had it not been for Smithers' sturdy arm wrapped securely around his shoulder and chest. He slowly dragged his pupils to face Smithers, still fast asleep, eyes shut and lips slack, dripping drool onto his shoulder. He extended his hand to Smithers' cheek, and as he did so, Smithers' lips momentarily tightened into a slight smile before loosening again as he slipped into a deeper slumber. It was so easy to make him happy.

I've made a terrible mistake. I want him to remain by my side, but I'm not in love with him. He looked fretfully at Smithers' blissfully ignorant face. But he can never know. It would crush him.

Smithers stirred and kissed his forehead. "What are you thinking, Monty?"

"Oh, so since we're married, you must know my every thought? I am not permitted to have private thoughts, is that it?"

Smithers' eyes widened in confusion. "What? No!" Yawning, he said, "I was just making conversation, dear," and reached for his glasses. Glasses on, he put his hand on Burns' shoulder and said, "What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"Haven't you learned by now? I know when you're lying to me," he said, stroking his shoulder.

"All right. It's not nothing," he said, sitting up and sighing. "It's...I'm so sorry, Waylon."

"You don't need to keep apologizing. I've forgiven you," he said, clasping his right hand around Burns' left. "Your love is all I need." He nuzzled Burns' head with his own. "Say it to me, Monty," he said, his voice soft and breathy.

"Say what?"

"Tell me you love me. I know you aren't into this mushy stuff, but I just can't get enough of you."

"I love you, Waylon."

Smithers kissed his cheek. "Say it again," he whispered, his mouth hovering over Burns'.

"I love you." Smithers kissed his lips. "I love you..."

Smithers backed away, still staring raptly into his eyes. "I will never get tired of hearing you say those words." He nudged his nose against Burns' chest. "I waited over two decades, longing to hear you say those words to me. Now that you have, I must say...nothing in the world could sound better."

"It's too early to listen to your drippy ramblings. My eyes are painfully dry. Remedy this situation posthaste."

"Right away, dear," said Smithers, jumping out of bed to retrieve a misting device, which he filled with Evian and brought back to mist Burns' eyes. "Yesterday, Marge was telling me about this antique vase fair this Saturday. We should go."

"I have enough antique vases to fill the Hindenburg. What profit is there in gawking at cheap wares when we have an extravagant collection right here?"

"I guess you're right. It would've been nice to do something as a couple, though."

"Well...I suppose it wouldn't harm anything if we made a brief excursion there."

Smithers grinned, his eyelids lowered amorously as gave Burns a quick, one-armed hug. "Thanks, dear."