CHAPTER FOUR: Gaudium et Spes

"It's the strangest thing. First, I see Smithers, even though he's been dead for nearly fifteen years, and the next day, Father O'Flaherty, the old priest that you said helped you save me from the vampires."

"Oh, Lisa, I'm sure its all just a big, strange coincidence."

"Lis, I saw Smithers die. Fifteen different vampires ripped him into confetti. They shredded him!"

"Could it have been his ghost then?" Eric asked.

Lisa shook her head.

"May I please have some more meatloaf, Mrs. Simpson?" Nelson asked politely.

"Of course, Nelson. Have all you want," Marge said, placing a thick slice on his plate.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome."

"Mom, Homer, Friends, Siblings, I have an announcement too make," Bart said, standing up and raising his glass of malt liqueur.

A wave of excitement flowed through the room. Lisa smiled warmly, Marge's eyes began to well with tears.

"We're engaged!" Jessica blurted, holding out her hand, which now sported what appeared to be a paper ring.

"What is that?" Lisa said, leaning to get a better look.

"I went to jewelrey shop after several rappers blew through, so I put in the order for the ring I wanted and pain for it. It's a really good one."

"I'm proud of you, son," Homer said, standing and walking over to the young couple, "Bart, this more than makes up for all the trauma of thinking you were gay that one time."

"You thought I was what now?" Bart said, raising an eyebrow.

"Bart, it doesn't matter what I thought or what your sexual orientation turned out to be, it just matters that today, I can finally say, that I'm glad Marge forgot her pill that night."

He drew his son into an awkward, one-sided hug.

"HAW-HAW!" Nelson laughed, "Your life of freedom is over!"

His cell phone rang.

"Yeah?"

"Where the HELL ARE YOU!? I've been watching your son all day, and he's been screaming and SCREAMING AND SCREAMING since two! 'Where's Papa?' 'I want Papa!' You get your ass over here NOW! I work and slave, changing diapers, sweating over a hot stove, while you're out there drinking with your friends!"

Nelson hung up.

"Man. Talk about irony," he said, shaking his head, "Well, I better be headin' on out. Smell y'all later. Bart. Jessica. Mrs S. Lisa."

"Bye," Lisa said with a quiet smile.

"Later, Dude!" Bart said. Nelson went, grabbed his hat and coat, and said a few more succinct farewells, and left.

"So, when's the wedding going to be?" Maggie asked.

"Sometime in June," said Jessica

"I hope that you get reservations soon," Marge said, shaking a finger, "You know that this is the time of year that everyone proposes."

"We will, don't worry," Bart said, rolling his eyes.

"Which church will it be at?" asked Millhouse, who had been silent for most of the time, staring at Lisa with misty while he half-heartedly toyed with the food on his plate.

"Well, we shopped around, and, as neither of is have any intention of ever setting foot in Rev. Lovejoy's church again,-(Rev. Lovejoy had left Springfield to pursue a career in televangelism, and was currently in jail on the combined charges of embezzlement and possession of a controlled substance)-and as I doubt that either of us wish to be wed in the Jewish faith, I decided that it should be at St. Andrew's," explained Bart.

"But you aren't Catholic!" Marge exclaimed.

"Is that one of those churches where they get drunk and dance around with snakes?" Homer asked excitedly.

"No, Dad, it's an old and very mainstream Christian denomination," said Lisa.

"Aww…"

"Well it is a nice old church…" Jessica started.

"And, it's small. Only family and very close friends!" Bart added.

"Hrrrmmm…" murmured the three Simpson women.

"Plus, it's for Rev. O'Flaherty. We owe it to him for all that he's done for us. He's the closest thing to a father I've ever had!"

"Hey!"

"Well, it would be nice, but I don't think that it would work out," Lisa said, "He's seventy-five years old, and is in the ICU for a gunshot to the gut. Even if he survives, I doubt that he'd be able to go back to work."

"C'mon, Lis. This guy's hardcore! He's fought vampires, mummies, werewolves…he's like Van Helsing, only better written!" Homer cheered.

"He said that he's gonna' keep working till he drops dead hearing confessions!" Bart said enthusiastically.

"What was that about vampires and mummies?" Jessica asked confusedly.

"And besides," Bart continued, ignoring his fiancé's question, "Even if he retires, I'm sure he'd be happy to say our wedding."

"Well, I wouldn't make anymore plans until I knew for sure that he would be okay with it."

The young couple, Millhouse, and the DeGeorges left after desert and coffee. Bart asked Jessica if she would like to join him at him place for a drink. Knowing full and well that "a drink" was not "just a drink", she accepted.

They arrived at Bart's apartment. It was cluttered with posters, exercise equipment, and assorted electronics and gadgets. He scrounged about and found a bottle of cheap red wine. They sat on his couch, and, from plastic cups, drank to each other.

The wine worked it's magic spell. Their faces grew flushed, and reason began to retreat from fiery passion. Wine and glasses discarded, they kissed. At first, just light, fluttering pecks about the lips and face. As they grew bolder, they kisses grew fiercer and longer. Jessica threw her arms around him. He picked her up in his arms, and, staggering under both her weight and alcohol's dizzying influence, he carried her to the bedroom. He stumbled and they both fell onto the bed. Jessica giggled giddily. She started to kiss him again, but felt his lips grow taught and his hands start to push her back.

"What's wrong?" she asked, feeling something had to be horribly amiss for a heterosexual male to try and stop what was clearly going to happen.

"Jess, there's something you need to know…" he said, all humour and gaiety gone from his voice.

Oh crap, she thought, here it comes.

"It happened when I was ten, and involved that old priest…"

Oh, dear God, no! Poor Bart!

"Bart…look, we don't have to do this. If he…you know…"

"What? Molested me? Hell no! No one diddles the Bartman; I was gonna tell you about the thing about the vampires and such. You see, Fr. O'Flaherty was once a member of a secret society that hunted vampires and…"

She stopped his story with a kiss.

"Hmm-hmm," she laughed, "Tell me later."

"Gladly!"

He took a remote out of his pocket, lowered the lights to a dim glow, and turned on the stereo. Marvin Gaye's "Let's Get It On", started playing.

"Mwa-ha-ha-ha-ha!" Bart laughed, rubbing his hands together.

What? Expecting explicit 'fluff'? Nope, I cut out here. For those who were getting hopeful, know that, for future purposes, I do not do 'fluff', nor do I do hentai, shou-diddlies, slash, or any other crap like that. I am a romantic, not a bleeding pornographer.