It had been a hectic day at the coffeeshop, yet Bart managed rather well, and for once Dave and Sarah were happy with him. He even had the chance of sharing a smoke break with his colleague as the day drew to a close.

"No, really, well done. You've really come around." She said, smiling encouragingly. Bart felt warm inside, a satisfaction he hadn't felt in a long time.

"Thanks," he returned the smile. "Glad it's almost over, I'm pooped."

"Tell me about it. I think I'll just head straight home and crash on my bed. How about you?"

With all the agitation of his shift, Bart just remembered the agreement he had with Bob. Fiddling with the man's black lighter, he realised that he hadn't seen him at the café all day.

"I'm er- going out tonight." He replied before hastily taking a puff.

"Nice. Partying or dating?"

"No, uhm, with some friends." He didn't really like the interrogating, but Bart didn't really have a choice but answer casually.

"Good, enjoy it while you're still young. Don't go home too late, we want you raring to go tomorrow!" She teased with a wink.

Bart took another drag and realised she had a point. He took out his phone and texted his mother. "B home late, dont wait for me" That was all he could tell his family. It was generic enough, but he knew Lisa would bug him about it later.

The evening was settling in when everyone cleared up the café and the team was ready to close. Bart started feeling nervous and noticed the sky had turned a bright shade of orange. After his shift had finally ended, he took a step outside and glanced around, seeing no sign of Bob. Wondering if he had changed his mind of simply forgotten, Bart turned around to the side of building, and there he was, standing exactly where he had a few days before, smoking a cigarette of his own.

"Shall we?" Bob said, flicking his cigarette away before taking the lead.

"Uuh... where are we going?" The blond asked, walking some distance away from Bob, determined to remain careful.

"Wherever you want to eat, Bart. My treat."

They strolled down a street filled with shops and food places and Bart looked for the most crowded one.

"There." He pointed at a fast-food restaurant that reminded him a lot of a Krusty Burger, only more 'Shelbyville'. He glanced at Bob, and much to his delight he looked far from happy with his choice.

"Fine," he sighed.

They entered the place together and Bart was relieved to see many people were still around, talking and eating. After he ordered himself a nice burger, he was amused to see that Bob chose a salad after looking at the other items with disgust. He hurried to pick a table right next to a window, where the few people still walking outside could see them. He sighed heavily and relaxed on his chair, digging into his burger.

"Long day, I presume?" Bob asked, leaving his food untouched.

"It was insane. I'm exhausted, but... Apparently I did a good job, they were happy with me. So... I guess it's all good."

"You must be proud," he replied simply.

"Yeah, I am." It was strange sitting face to face with Bob, in a strange new place. Unlike at work, he and Bart were now on the same level and it felt particularly intimate being this close to him and eating together. He didn't look as intimidating that way, and Bart realised how handsome Bob actually was.

Bart had to control his thoughts, or else they might wander off once again, and now was not the time.

"So tell me, what would you like to know?"

Bart went over the hundreds of questions he had for him, trying to pick one that wouldn't set him off.

"Um, so you work in a library?"

Bob picked up his fork and started eating, not taking his eyes off Bart.

"Well done," he started with a smile. "I'm actually the director of Shelbyville Library."

"Really?" Bart was impressed in spite of himself. "How did you end up – you know..."

The redhead let out a genuine laugh. "No need to walk on eggshells with me, Bart. I'm not going to bite. I'm well over murder now, no matter what you say or do. Do not consider this a challenge, however," he added with a malevolent glint in his eyes.

Bart found it hard to believe, but decided to follow his advice and go all out.

"When did you get out of prison?"

"That's better," he smiled. "I was released eight years ago, with the firm intention of starting an entirely new life. I started working at the library and after months of hard work, I was eventually put in charge. It was refreshing to start anew, where nobody knew who I was." Bart decided to ignore the evil smile the man was giving him.

"So you live in Shelbyville?"

"Yes, I do." Bob nodded, turning his head to gaze out the window. Bart followed his eyes; the street was almost clear of people by now and the sky showed the first hints of night. They were sharing a meal in comfortable silence and he started feeling more comfortable with the man.

"What about you? Tell me what you have been up to," Bob asked with curiosity.

Bart reflected for a moment, but looking back at the past few years he couldn't find anything interesting to tell.

"Well, after high school I tried working here and there. Nothing brilliant, you know, it never worked out. And now... well, you know where I work at."

"Don't berate yourself." Bob almost scolded. "I do quite enjoy your presence at the café."

"Ah! I knew it!" Bart shouted, pointing triumphantly at him.

"I must admit it is entertaining," Bob confided with a smug expression.

"Is that why you tip me so much?"

"Perhaps. Or, perhaps I also want to help you out."

Bart scoffed. He couldn't believe he was a source of entertainment in Bob's eyes. Yet somewhere inside he was flattered, and he hated it.

"Don't act so surprised, Bart," the man smirked, locking eyes with him. "If you think I didn't notice you staring at me while you're supposed to be working, you are sorely mistaken."

Flustered, Bart looked away, hoping he wasn't blushing in embarrassment. He thought he had been careful enough. He needed to change the subject. Fast.

"Well, you're not exactly a stranger. I just hope my boss didn't notice that we know eachother... You didn't tell him, did you?"

"Bart. I've built a new life for myself here. There is no reason for me to ruin my situation."

"What about your wife? Is she in Shelbyville, too?" He inquired, remembering the dangerous Italian woman, certainly not wishing to meet her again.

Bob took a few seconds to answer and didn't seem too happy with the question.

"Francesca... opted for a divorce while I was still incarcerated." His tone had shifted to a more somber one. "It was best for both of us, since she returned to Italy with my son and I chose to remain here."

"Oh... Sorry, I guess?" Bart picked at his fries sheepishly.

"Don't be. What about your relationships?"

"My relationships?" Bart was taken aback. "I've had a few girlfriends. Never anything serious, though."

"Really, and why is that?"

"I dunno," he shrugged, answering truthfully. "I don't really wanna commit to something stable. When I see all my friends... It doesn't make me wanna have what they have." Bart frowned. He remembered not feeling the least bit heartbroken when he was broken up with, or the other way around. What did that mean for him?

"I see."

The atmosphere became thick and Bart just wanted to change the subject again.

"I didn't tell my boss either. Who you are, I mean. I didn't even tell my family I saw you. Just Milhouse, but he doesn't know we're- er..." Bart stopped in his track, realising he was about to reveal to Bob that no one knew he was with him, and noticed the man's glare, persuading him to finish his sentence.

"Excuse me, but we need to close up!" An employee called out to the pair and Bart inwardly thanked him with all his heart. Glancing around, he noticed they were the last two customers.

They exited the restaurant, obviously to Bob's relief as he made a comment on the poor quality of the food. Bart rolled his eyes, but panicked when he realised it was night time, with no one left outside in the chilly night air. How much time they had spent in there, he had no idea and felt more and more anxious. The buses had stopped their service, he was sure of that.

"I can give you a ride home, if you'd like."

Fuck.

o

Bart watched the landscape roll by, sitting in the passenger seat of Bob's car. He was holding his phone, wondering if he should tell his family or Milhouse what was going on. He had accepted Bob's offer after weighing his other options – a taxi would probably be too expensive as he'd already spent his tips when he was with Milhouse, and simply walking home would take too long and Bart was far too tired for that. Not to mention Bob could easily catch up with him, so he was stuck with the man anyway.

That was his logical reasoning. But in truth, Bart didn't mind riding in Bob's car all that much. The older man was driving quietly into the night when he spoke softly.

"I'll drop you off some way away from your house." He spared Bart a glance. "I'm sure you wouldn't want to be seen with me. Am I correct?"

"Right..." The young man couldn't argue with him there, his family would be scared and call the cops, thinking he was being kidnapped or something. Bart checked his phone for the time – they would be asleep by now, but he had to be safe, just in case.

"It must be tiring to take the bus everyday to work," Bob began. "I assume you don't have a car?"

"I can't exactly afford it," Bart sneered. "Maybe if you tip me more, I could afford my license," he teased, looking at Bob who seemed to be smiling.

"I could give you lessons."

"Don't bother, I taught myself how to drive when I was ten," he revealed laughing, remembering his fake driver's license and his day out spent driving around with his friends as passengers.

The man sighed in mock despair. "Why am I not surprised?"

"I guess you know me well, Sideshow Bob," he replied with an gleeful emphasis on Bob's former title and turned to check out his reaction. His eyes were still on the road ahead, yet he had an evil smile he didn't seem to be able to hold in.

"You're playing dangerous games, Bart," he stated darkly, yet from his expression Bart understood it was Bob's very own sense of humor towards him.

"Thanks for the compliment," he grinned towards him.

They drove on for a while longer before Bob broke the silence again. "And here we are."

They pulled up next to some trees Bart didn't recognise at first. They stepped out of the car and he looked around.

Trees and bushes were lining up the road and the faint glow from a nearby streetlight showed the end of a one-way street, one not too far from his house. No one must have seen them pull up, although whether that was a good thing Bart wasn't sure. He almost jumped when he turned around to see Bob standing dangerously close to him. He was towering over him with his hand on the car, almost blocking him, but the way home was still largely open, as if the older man had made sure he had a way out.

"Your house is a few blocks away, around the corner," he stated matter-of-factly.

Bart looked in said direction and was relieved when he recognised the street.

"But if you'd like..." Bob's voice was low, his tone had changed and Bart could have sworn when he turned back to him that his face was closer to his own. He displayed a strange smile the young man had never seen on him, like he was trying to sweet-talk to him and it was working.

"We could spend some quality time-" he continued, opening the back door next to Bart "-together."

His dark brown eyes were staring into his soul, shining with the nearby light and something else Bart couldn't put his finger on. He glanced towards his escape route and looked back at the car door that was slowly opening, revealing the back seats. The wildest thoughts started creeping up in Bart's subconscious; he tried hard to keep them at bay.

Of course, a few weeks back, Bart would have bolted right out of there. He would never even have been in such a situation with Sideshow Bob, let alone at night with no one else around to get help from. But things were different now, there was a trust for the ex-convict Bart hated himself for having. He decided to play dumb, if only to make sure of Bob's intentions.

"Really...? Wh-what quality time, we just spent the evening talking?" Bart internally cursed himself when he heard his own voice shake.

Bob laughed lightly and leaned ever so slightly to his eye level. He brought a hand up to Bart, cupping his face. The warmth of his fingers was a stark contrast to the cold metal of the car he was leaning on and the chilly night air. There was a sweetness in the older man's gesture that Bart had become accustomed to these days but that made his heart race like mad. The two of them had never been so physically close, so intimate with eachother, and the young man found he didn't dislike it as much as he knew he should have.

"I could tell you," Bob paused and put his other hand on his shoulder, staring into his eyes, his expression unreadable. "But we both know you're not one to wait for explanations."

Bob suddenly lunged at him, slamming him against the car, and crashed his lips against his. Bart's eyes widened in surprise for a split moment, before his body relaxed, trapped under the other man.

His eyes closed and his mind blank, he let the other body weigh him down against the car.