More Than Pleasant

Pleasantville

AN: Re-watched Pleasantville for the first time in years and fell in love with it all over again. Got these ideas while watching which quickly turned into this little one shot, plus another.

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Warning: FLUFFINESS, boy love, au-ish, minor and adult relationship, implied sex...

"Bud!" William Johnson looked up from the counter he was wiping down with a smile.

"Yeah, yeah – sorry. I just had to help my folks, and then I couldn't find my hat," Bud Parker, or rather David who had been sucked into this new role in life just this morning, replied eagerly. Fixing his apron as he did so.

"Oh. I didn't know what to do,"

"What's wrong?"

"Well, I always wipe down the counter, then you set out the napkins and glasses, and then I make the french fries." Bill explained.

"Yeah,"

"But, you didn't come, so I just kept on wiping," Bud glanced down at the counter and the now worn spot on it.

"I'm sorry," He glanced at Bill before laughing softly. "Uhm, you know, if this ever happens again," Bud placed his hand over Bill's still cleaning one, ignoring the pleasant warmth that radiated from the touch, "you can make the fries, even if I haven't put out the napkins yet,"

Bill's, slightly shocked, light eyes landed on his with a soft smile.

"Oh, thank you,"

Bud replied with a grin and began working. For the rest of the evening he did not think about the light reflecting in pale eyes. He did not wonder what color they would be. And he most certainly did not think about what might happen if Bill and he were in Jennifer and Skip's position. He did not.

=pleasantville=

Later in the week, as he worked his way through the library books to give the knowledge hungry teens more to read, he crossed a large art book he had once loved. With a smile he pulled it from the shelf and opened it. Delighting as the pictures came to life and filled in the blank pages. Briefly he wondered what Bill Johnson would think of it, remembering the man's fondness for painting. Bud snapped the book up and checked it out before jogging to Bill's soda shop.

"Oh, hi!" Bill looked up from where he was cleaning the glasses.

"Hi," Bud replied with a smile.

"Aren't you a little bit early?"

"I brought you something from the library." Bud placed the large book on the counter, hesitantly, and positioned it for Bill to open, "It's an art book,"

"Oh my gosh, Bud," the man set down the cloth and glass and brushed a loving hand over the cover. Bud smiled to himself as he took a seat at the bar.

"I just thought, since you like to paint, it might help to-"

"Gee whiz," The exclamation was an almost silent prayer. Bill flipped through the pages slowly, caressing each one as if it were made of silk rather than paper. "Who – who is Titian?"

"Not sure," Bud shook his head slightly, ripping his gaze away from admiring the pleasure on Bill's face. He tried not to stare, and generally succeeded, with a few exceptions.

"It's beautiful, Bud," Bill sighed, closing the book and pushing it back towards the younger of the two employees. He tried not to let it show but Bud could see the slight disappointment on his face.

"What's wrong?" His mind raced frantically? Had he just made a horrible mistake?

"Just – I'll never be able to do that," Bill shook his head sadly.

"Well, you just started, I mean, you can't do it now –"

"No,no,no. Where am I gonna see colors like that?" the man gave him a sad smile, "Must be awful lucky to see colors like that. I'll bet they don't know how lucky they are," Bud felt his heart crack slightly. He'd do anything to make this man see colors, if that's what Bill wanted. There had to be paints around here somewhere.

=pleasantville=

Bud smiled at Bill over the canvas, grinning like the cat who got the cream. In his hands were the paints and various art supplies he'd bought and borrowed from people around town. He couldn't help the warm feeling that spread through him as Bill's face lit up at the sight of them.

"I thought you might be able to find a use for these," He stammered slightly in the beginning.

"Geez, Bud, where'd you get all of that?"

"It was just lying around my house," He shrugged and set everything down on one of the diner's tables.

"Oh, Bud, I couldn't possibly use these," Bill's fingers brushed reverently over the supplies.

"I brought them for you to use, though," Bud replied, urging the man to help himself. Everything was worth it, just to see that smile.

The rain distracted him from his modeling and he jumped from his seat to look out the window.

"Oh, my god," He whispered, "It's raining," He turned back to Bill with a grin that fell as he froze in place. Bill was a fantastic artist. True, he was not a master yet, but he was still brilliant. The depth of colors and the careful brush strokes, it made the art come to life.

"Real rain?" Bill stared at him, then glanced out the window.

"Yeah, real rain," Bud let a gently smile curve his lips.

=pleasantville=

Everything had been going so well up until the morning after the rain. Now, the soda shop was half destroyed and housing homeless orphans. And all because they were colored. Not black and white, but real colors! The books were gone, all but the single one Jennifer had managed to save from the fire. Music was banned, unless it was 'pleasant'. And art. Art was no longer allowed, because of the colors. Johnson's hands would never paint again. At least, as long as everything remained the way it was now.

Bud walked up to the slightly stiff form of Bill, eying the wooden barrier in front of the window.

"Oh, this is good! Just do it?" Even without a paintbrush, Bill's creativity bled into his work. The man glanced at him with a sad chuckle. "Don't worry, we'll get you a new one."

"I don't know what I'd do if I couldn't paint anymore, Bud," Bud shivered at the immense loss that resonated in the man's voice.

"Maybe I have an idea," Bud looked at him warily. This plan was, if he could say so, completely mad. But, it just might work.

Bud set to work helping Bill, whose mind was already working through the possibilities. They worked silently, creating a masterpiece within the mural. The story of the town. The life of Pleasantville. Every piece of recent history that needed to be seen.

"Are you sure this will work, Bud?" Bill asked quietly, as they huddled to finish the last corner.

"Positive," Bud nodded.

The final piece to go up was a slightly different version of the picture Bill had painted in the window of his soda shop. A nude portrait of Bud.

"Uhm, are you sure you want to paint this again?" Bud stammered, embarrassed. Once was fine, considering that it had been for art. A second would be, awkward.

"I'm completely sure," Johnson nodded as he began his work. Bud fidgeted as the mural neared completion.

"But, why?" the question finally burst from him.

"I – well – it's the only way we can be closer," The man did not look up from his work, though it was now finished. Bud's mind crashed to a halt. Screeching tires, and screaming horns everywhere.

"C-closer?" He hesitated, not sure if he'd heard right. The older man just nodded. "You know," Bud gulped, "men can be together," god, he sounded lame!

"What do you mean by 'together'?" Johnson looked up from his work at last.

"You know – uhm, l-like a man and wife?" Bud flushed, humiliated, and he was glad that the street lights didn't fully illuminate their workspace. He couldn't see Bill's face very well through the heavy shadow's however, and couldn't read the emotions playing across the man's face. So when the man leaned forward slowly and kissed his lips, he was unprepared. The rough, chapped feel of his lips pressed against his, the heat flooding through his body as his heart began to race. For a moment he forgot to respond, and Bill began to pull away.

"No," Bud exclaimed, half breathless, his hands grabbing the man's paint splattered shirt, "I liked it. Stay. Please,"

He hadn't needed to beg as Bill came back quite willfully, molding them together as if trying to get under his skin, become everything Bud was.

pagebreak

The man rolled them over, holding Bud snugly to his chest. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, enjoying the afterglow of their love. It briefly struck him, drawing a soft and worn-out laugh from his lips; he had just lost his virginity to a man who technically did not exist. But, he couldn't bring himself to care overly much. He fell into a light sleep, pressed back against the chest of the man he had come to love.

He woke to the shocked and revolted faces of the populace of Pleasantville. Harsh whispers and criticisms spilled from mouths all to eager to disapprove of anything different. He stood with a slight smile on his lips, his hand holding tightly to Bill's.

AN: Just making sure this doesn't step on the ToS. 22-06-2012