Bart and Milhouse agreed to hang out that day. The eldest Simpson child was tired, exhausted even, and he would have much preferred spending the afternoon watching TV on the couch, enjoying his day off doing absolutely nothing. But Milhouse needed to talk to him face to face. He had good reasons to be worried, Bart knew.

"Well, he came in and acted like any other customer, kinda..." He started explaining to his best friend.

"Kinda? What do you mean?"

"I mean, it's not like we don't know each other, so it was a bit... tensed? Or maybe that was just me. But he didn't try anything, he even tipped me nicely."

"Right, he wants you to let your guard down, Bart. He's probably been spying on you for who knows how long."

"No, Mil, he's a regular there. If anything, I'm the one who bumped into him. I just need to stay professional so I don't ruin his life again. I can do that, I'll just keep my distance. Easy."

His friend sighed, giving in.

"Promise you'll tell me if Sideshow Bob tries anything."

That was the condition Bart had to uphold if he wanted to keep working with the dangerous man around. It comforted him in his decision to keep the information from his family. Bart wanted to keep this job, for once, and he knew Lisa would want him out and as far away from the criminal as possible. Hell, she might even call the police just to be safe. But Bart knew Bob had every right to hang around the coffeeshop. Perhaps the idea that he was flirting with danger was also attractive to Bart, who had spent his life being an eternal troublemaker. So for the time being, nothing was going wrong in his job, at least as far as his family and his colleagues knew.

The next day would be a busy one, he was warned. Indeed, the room was crowded and customers kept calling him left and right, orders were mixed up in Bart's head as he tried to balance trays and dishes, and he ended up spilling boiling coffee on his apron.

"Come on, Bart, keep up with the flow!" He heard Sarah call out to him as people were staring at him. He didn't need to be told twice when he was finally allowed a few minutes to get a smoke once customers became sparse. He got himself a cigarette and hurried to the side door of the building. Once outside he rested his back on the brick wall, breathed deeply to calm his nerves and took out his lighter from his pocket.

He clicked it a bunch of times, but to no avail. Growing irritated at the seemingly empty device, he let out a frustrated groan.

Click.

Bart jumped at the sound that didn't come from him and looked up towards the source. He let out a short, startled screamed.

Sideshow Bob was standing a few feet away from him, lit up lighter in hand in offering, a sly smile plastered on his face.

Bart took a step back defensively, waiting for the criminal's next move.

"Calm down, Bart. It's merely a lighter." He laughed casually, turning off the object and handing it to him in the palm of his hand. "Do your parents know you smoke?"

Bart eyed the small object in Bob's hand, trying to find a possible threat. He took the lighter in a swift motion and lit his cigarette.

"I'm an adult, Bob. I can do whatever I want." He did his best to come off as insolent. He wasn't scared of the man, he had just been caught off guard, that's all.

"True," the redhead replied, watching him as he took a long draft. Bart exhaled slowly, letting the effects of nicotine calm him down from the frenzy of his shift, as well as from the recent shock.

"I'm keeping that," Bart smirked and pocketed Bob's lighter, happy to have stuff for free.

"Please, do. I'd hate for you to waste anymore time on your future breaks." Bart kept his eyes on him. The man didn't try to get closer, but he wondered why he was being nice to him.

"I see you had a little accident, there," Bob pointed at the dark stains painting his apron.

"Hmph, I just spilled coffee, why do you care?" He snapped, wondering why he was acting so concerned. Bob shook his head.

"There is no need to be aggressive, Bart. A simple thank you would have been more than enough."

Bart was taken aback and felt a tinge of guilt at his own hostility. After all, the other man had helped him out and was simply trying to have a conversation with him, however strange it was coming from him. The redhead turned around to leave him to his well-deserved break.

"I'll let you handle him, Bart," Sarah informed him as soon as he was back inside, rolling her eyes. "I guess he wants you as his waiter."

Bart glared at the infamous customer sitting across the room. "Fucking really," he muttered.

He made Bob his coffee and brought it to him, wondering what kind of sick glee he felt having him in that position. As time went by slowly for the rest of the afternoon, Bart found himself at the counter staring at him. There was some sort of sophisticated aura around the man – of course, Bob had always been that way, as far as he could remember. Yet there was something about him now that felt different. Bart observed his gestures as he drank quietly from his cup, long fingers turning the pages of his book, dark eyes reading carefully, tongue licking coffee off his lips - Bart froze and blushed all of a sudden. He was supposed to keep an eye out for hints of dangerous behaviour, that's why he was staring at the maniac in the first place. He seemed perfectly normal, so Bart looked away, judging the situation perfectly safe, although his head felt somewhat fuzzy. Once he noticed Bob was done, he walked automatically to him, bringing the bill. The sooner he was out, the better.

"How has your day been, Bart?" He asked suprisingly concerned, his dark brown eyes looking straight into his, and for some reason Bart noticed gold halos around his pupils. He was caught off guard. Did the man really care or was he playing a sick game? His tone sounded genuine, but the deep velvet-like voice reminded Bart of who it belonged to. He noticed some mockery in his eyes, like Bob was teasing him. Bart knew him well enough.

"I was doing great till you started showing up," he spat, handing him the piece of paper.

Bob reached for his wallet. "That's not what I've heard," he argued before standing up.

Bart blinked in surprise. "Huh? What have you heard?" He wondered if Bob had been snooping around and what he would do with whatever information he got his hands on.

"Don't you worry about it. I spoke with the owner and told him you're more than capable." Bob took a step forward to stand right in front of him and took Bart's hand into his own. The young man was stunned at the sudden contact, feeling his own fingers graze against Bob's, and his mind went blank. Bob's eyebrows furrowed ever so slightly; he looked like he was about to say something for a second, but instead let go and simply took off, leaving Bart to stand in the middle of the café. The blond looked down at his hand to find a crumpled up ten-dollar bill.