A/N: This is the last chapter, guys, sorry! I thought it would be good to wrap it up here after such a huge event, plus I had a ten-chapter goal in mind. However, I'd like to thank those who read and reviewed because these are the most reviews I've ever gotten. So thank you for your support and I hope you like this chapter.

(Third-Person P.O.V.)

Smithers had a great job at the toy store in the Malibu Stacy aisle. Every morning, he got up early, had some coffee and a cheese Danish, kissed his significant other goodbye, and drove to work in the blue car. Moe would take the red car to the bar where he worked and wait for 5:30 PM, that special time when his beau would return from work and visit him.

Smithers walked through the door of the back room cheerfully, singing his own little parody of a song he'd heard on the radio that day.

"Something in the way he moves,

Attracts me like no other lover.

Something in the way he moves me.

I don't wanna leave him now; you know I believe and how."

Moe chuckled and walked up to greet him with a hug. The younger man smelled crisp and fresh, from the cool, nightly October breeze.

"How was work today? Any of them kids cause a Malibu Stacy avalanche?" he asked.

"No, it was fine. I'm alive, aren't I?" Smithers chuckled. Moe nodded in reply.

"Good point. How 'bout a cocktail?"

"Oh, yeah, that would be real nice. Could you go get one for me?"

"No way, I ain't your maid!" Moe chuckled.

"Are now. I always knew I was the man of this relationship," Smithers commented jokingly. Moe raised a mischievous eyebrow.

"Is that so? C'mere, you!" He began to chase after the younger man, who burst into a fit of giggles and ran out of the back room.

"You'll never catch me~!" he sang.

"Ha ha! Get back here, ya naughty little monkey!" Moe chuckled. They sprinted to the main countertop and much to Smithers's misfortune, there was nowhere to escape. At last, Moe, with a glint in his eye, growled like a wild animal and pinned the younger man's shoulders to the countertop. Smithers screeched and giggled with joy and Moe began planting kisses on every inch of his face.

"Moe, stop it!" Smithers chuckled, his face flushed both with humiliation and joy.

"Heh heh heh! Moe, stop it!" Moe mocked playfully, continuing to kiss Smithers's face. Smithers laughed some more before pretending to complain,

"No, seriously, stop! Moe! There are customers waiting in line!" Moe looked up in realization, released Smithers's shoulders, stood up, and scratched his head.

"Right. Heh heh, sorry." He worked for the rest of his shift, closing up the place once everybody had gotten their last drink for the night. Then they drove their cars home, red and blue side-by-side. Everybody in Springfield had something to say about the sight.

"Such a strange couple."

"I give it a month before it all falls to shite."

"Who woulda thought ol' Moe would go for a guy? Maybe his previous girlfriends were just cover-ups, all these years."

"Great. Now there's an image permanently burned into my brain."

Regardless, the two love birds didn't seem to hear a thing. They only turned up the car radios and hummed along to the music. Once they got to the home they shared, which was Moe's house that Smithers moved into, they got out of their cars and started walking inside together. However, Moe came up with a little surprise of his own. As soon as they reached the first front step, he whisked the younger man into his arms bridal-style and kicked the door open.

"Woah! Ha ha, you're in a romantic mood this evening," Smithers commented jovially.

"Only around you, honey," Moe mused, winking. Once they got inside, Moe put him down, they turned on the living room night, and they stood in front of the window with the closed shade. Smithers wrapped his arms around the older man's neck, who in turn, wrapped his around his waist.

"You know what's funny?" Smithers asked, laughing shyly.

"What? What's funny?" Moe replied, gazing lovingly into those honey-hazel eyes he saw in his dreams.

"I just – I never would've thought that you would feel the same exact way about me, and yet you still haven't got a clue about whether you like girls more," the younger man answered curiously. Now that he mentioned it, it was true. But Moe had only felt this way about Smithers: he was the only guy he genuinely had feelings for. If it weren't for his existence he would be happily married to some girl who found him fascinating, but it wouldn't be the same: his life wouldn't be complete, like it was right now. Because the truth was (though crazy it may sound coming from a guy who just met his beau about a month ago), Smithers was his soulmate. It could easily be argued that he was "Smithersexual".

"I don't care what my sexual orientation is as long as I'm with you," was his reply. And it seemed to be the correct one, because Smithers gave him the dopey Sean Patrick Flannery-ish smile he had seen in that one dream and moved in to kiss him lovingly on the lips. It was a kiss of many they would share in the future, but it was easily one of the best they had. After they pulled apart, they stood there, embracing.

"Waylon?"

"Morris?"

"I love you,"

"I love you too." They kissed again. Destiny had disrupted the traditional paths of life the two men used to walk separately, and yet, at the same time, it mended them so that they were conjoined into one happy ending. They were pleased to find what lay at the end: the gift of true love for all eternity, lack of loneliness, and, most importantly, each other.

Meanwhile, somebody was watching the silhouettes of two men madly in love that the living room light was reflecting. His hair was white and slowly balding, his hands were worn and wrinkled, and a genuine smile was fixed upon his face. Who was he? He was none other than – what do you know? – Charles Montgomery Burns.

"Thank goodness I fired him; it was best for both of us," he reasoned out loud. Then he looked up at the sky and called, "You're a good man, Waylon Smithers! Your son is the bee's knees, but you will always be my favorite assistant! Thank you for the forty years of joy you've given me!"

With that, he began to walk home proudly. Just as suddenly, a light appeared in front of him.

"Wha? What's going on?" he questioned, scratching his head. He looked up and gasped at a sight he only would've believed to see in his fantasies: the ghost of Waylon Smithers Sr. was descending gracefully from heaven. When he landed, he looked into the shocked face of Mr. Burns and chuckled.

"What's the matter, Monty? Cat got your tongue?" he asked.

"Holy criminy! Waylon! What are you doing here?!" Mr. Burns cried out in surprise. His eyes were as wide as saucers.

"Heaven was boring as hell, Burnsie. All anybody wanted to do all day was sing and frolick in the clouds. Gets a little annoying after forty years. Besides, you've done a good thing. I wanted to reward you for it by coming back to your side, where I work best," Waylon replied. There was so much affection in those words, and Monty felt quite touched inside.

"Smithers...there's something I've always wanted to tell you but I never had the chance because – you know-" He choked up a bit and Waylon effortlessly dried his tears.

"Yes...I know. What is it?" he inquired kindly. Burns looked down rather bashfully and his ears reddened before he mumbled,

"I...I really like you. In fact, I love you. Like, really." Waylon looked genuinely surprised for a second, but he smiled just as quickly and admitted in a choked-up voice,

"I'm so glad to hear you say that, because – I've loved you for many years too, even though I had a wife and a baby." A comfortable, though slightly melancholy silence followed, for though they were together again, there was that tragic regret of not having said these things earlier. Mr. Burns was the one to break the silence.

"So...what do we do now?" he asked hesitantly, as if the ghost would disappear again any minute. Waylon frowned in thought and cradled his chin in his hand before saying,

"Ooh! I know! Let's go fire somebody!" Monty perked up at that.

"Yeah! Heh heh, let's fire that noob Sarah!"

"She won't know what's coming to her!"

"And you may do the honors of releasing the hounds!"

"Oh, may I?! I've always wanted to do that!" They laughed and began walking back to the power plant they called home. Mr. Burns rested his head on Smithers's shoulder.

"Oh, Waylon! I feel like I'm sixty-four again!" he chuckled.

"But you are, Monty! Sixty-four years young and still as handsome as ever!" Smithers argued playfully. "By the way, race ya to the plant!" With that, he took off at full speed. Mr. Burns laughed.

"Hey," he cried mock-angrily, "hey, come back here, you moron!" If anybody in Springfield were to look out their windows that night, they would have been bewildered by the sight of man and ghost, hand-in-hand, laughing and running through the streets.

THE END