Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

"We are both guilty..." Bob said in a quiet voice.

Bart sighed. He knew that this was coming eventually, but he hadn't expected this reaction so soon. In his childhood treehouse, lit up only by a nearby streetlamp, he gave the former sideshow a pointed look. "Why do you want to ruin this?"

"Because," Bob paused briefly, chosing his words carefully. "This is our first time truly alone. And we are hiding for a reason."

"And that reason being?" Bart asked with a tinge of smugness as well as defiance in his voice, playing dumb on purpose. As if the answer wasn't as obvious as the chilly breeze running through the old wooden planks, masking the secret interaction from the world. Bart knew this smirk and tone of voice could easily get on his nerves, and he wasn't afraid to use it to his advantage. Not since Bob had stopped showing any kind of hostility toward him. Not since they had made up. Especially not since the first interested glances they had shared.

Without warning, Bob took hold of his shoulders and plunged in for a kiss, completely ignoring his question. Despite the sudden gesture, Bart quickly relaxed into his display of affection, relishing the peace and quiet they finally had for each other. After weeks of discreet flirting, it was a merciful reward for both men to finally be able to taste the other without shame, without having to be cautious, and with all the time they needed. Fingers landed on faces, grazing skin, petting shoulders, feeling hair and coming back down to intertwine.

After spending an inconsequential amount of time exploring the other, the two men sadly remembered the importance of breathing. Bob pulled away, and after catching his breath, took Bart's hand in his, lost in thoughts too negative to let escape. As for Bart, nothing could break his appreciation of the moment, seeing the one who used to be the embodiment of a death threat for once so close and handsy with him. Nothing, except noticing Bob's features turn somber as he lowered his head and let go.

"What... What's wrong?"

Bob let out a bitter laugh. "Now that I've tasted this forbidden freedom, I find I won't be able to quit you easily..."

"Well, that's good, isn't it?"

"Bart..." Bob sighed when the blond gave him an unconvinced glare. "You do understand."

"Maybe I do. But guess what? I don't give a shit," Bart stated with a small amount of frustration. "I thought we agreed to... To go further."

"Yes," Bob replied decisively, then paused, letting the silence weigh on them both in the silent treehouse.

Gathering up his usual audacity, Bart reached up and laid his lips on his once more, if only to confirm his answer. Though hesitant at first, the older man replied in kind, slow and careful. He parted soon, however, much to Bart's dismay.

"But things are far from simple," he insisted, his face inches away from Bart's. "This is... very much morally questionable."

"It's only a big deal if you make it so," Bart murmured, ignoring the familiar knot in his stomach that was caused by the pertinent comment. "I don't mind meeting in secret, you know. It's exciting, even."

"Until we are discovered. Or you grow tired of having to hide this relationship. What will you do, then?"

"Bob..."

"What will you do?" he repeated, stoic.

Bart wouldn't admit to him how often he had thought about it. He had had many complex relationships in the past, but this one was an implausible mess that was nearly impossible to untangle. What was even the point in making sense of them?

"I dunno. Do you know the future, Bob? I don't. I think for the time being I'll spend the night here, with you. Maybe we could..."

With his usual cheekiness, he playfully ran his hand down Bob's torso, and over his stomach. But the former criminal grabbed his wrist tightly before he could reach the center point of his growing desire. Even in the dimly lit treehouse, Bart could tell that Bob was blushing. He noticed he was biting his bottom lip, frozen with his hand still in his grasp. He barely saw the corner of his lips curl up into a playful smile of his own.

"Did you have anything in mind, Bart?"

"Well, I don't know how far you were thinking of going tonight, but I don't plan on sleeping much."

With a low chuckle, Bob pulled him closer by the waist. "I decided not to plan anything, for once."

Chapter Text

Well, that was it. It was all over for Bart. There was no escaping the clown's clutches this time. He was trapped in this boarded up room, in the abandoned house in which he had been foolishly lured. No one knew where he was, and he had no way of contacting the outside world anymore.

Air was already scare enough in Bart's lungs, now he was trying not to hyperventilate as the long figure stepped out of the shadows, his image striking fear right into his heart. The dim light reinforced the madness etched onto Sideshow Bob's features, or perhaps it was a mere illusion for the youth backed into the corner as the man stepped closer, his step light and silent like a hunter.

After focusing on his priorities again, Bart starting eyeing him carefully. Bob had his arms down, not threateningly, but the pistol in his right hand made his intentions clear as crystal. Their gazes locked in a silent conversation, challenging the other to speak first. Against Bart's expectations, his dark eyes showed no anger. No wrath, no mental instability, no murderous rage. If only they were showing any kind of emotion at all, Bart would know where to stand. Right now, in the thick silence separating the two, he was frozen in time, waiting for the beast to lunge at him at any second.

But, Bob did nothing. Swallowing a hard lump, Bart reached far into the back of his throat to find his voice again.

"What are you gonna do to me?"

Bob's eyes flickered with a strange gleam at the question. His mouth opened slightly, as if he was about to speak, but no words came out. The clicking sound of the gun made Bart flinch, but the cannon remained thankfully pointed down.

"...I don't know," said the man standing still a few feet away from him.

"Wh-what?"

"Understand, Bart..." Bob began, barely audible. "I've spent the last four months of my life observing you..."

The cornered Simpson reached back with his hands to feel the damp, run-down wall behind him, trying to find steadiness and safety in the most implausible ways. "...okay?"

"And now, I know all about you..." Bob continued without breaking eye contact once.

"You don't know everything about me," he snapped angrily, hoping his words were true. "I'm not a child anymore. I've grown up, I've-"

"I do, unfortunately. I have been watching you, everyday... I know where you live, where you work. I know when you leave in the morning, I know when you come home. I know where you go with your girlfriend on weekends. And I know when you don't come home at all."

Fear slowly gave way to an uneasy feeling Bart couldn't quite explain. Of course Bob had been stalking him, that was what he did best. Yet to hear him speak of it, on keeping a close watch on him as he was living his life none the wiser, it brought dread crawling down his spine like a thousand needles.

"I was there when you proposed to her."

Bart noticed the gun-wielding hand convulse briefly. A drop of sweat was slowly dripping down his forehead, but he didn't dare move to wipe it off. Resentment grew in his heart - for him to have witnessed such a private moment - but it wasn't enough to take over his panic.

"I know your new fears, your new hopes, I've got them all written down. I know you better today than I ever have."

They continued studying each other, as Bart didn't dare speak again.

"And you did exactly as planned, coming here. It was perfect... down to this very moment."

He gulped, dreading what was coming next. Bob broke eye contact to look down at his gun.

"I was sincerely hoping this would be faster. If only I..." He looked back up at him with a gloomy expression. "Now that I've got you, I can't bring myself to end you."

"Why n-not?" Bart couldn't help but ask in spite of himself, earning a – shaken? - reaction from Bob who gulped with a tense face.

"I... There's... Because there is... a new development I- I have been trying to ignore..."

Seeing him at a loss for words was so unusual for Bart. It was a far cry from the pompous, refined and overconfident man who revelled in scaring him with words only. Facing Bob had always felt like a chess game, a battle of wits where Bart had to think outside the box to ruin his victory. This time, he felt like Bob had thrown the board away altogether and was about to do the unexpected.

"What..." he croaked, cursing himself for encouraging conversation. "What is it?"

There was another long pause, during which Bob stared at him, at his face, at the rest of his body, studying him as if he was seeing him for the last time. His brows furrowed and his eyes widened ever so slightly before he finally answered.

"Infatuation."

"Huh? You... What?" Bart sputtered, registering the single unexpected word.

Without tearing his eyes from him, Bob lowered the weapon to the floor and left it lying there. He took a few steps back just as quietly, then spun around and unlocked the door, before disappearing through it.

Bart's breathing finally turned regular again in the decaying room, and his shoulders relaxed against the wall. The unused gun remained there on the floor – abandoned at the very last moment, like everything else. The criminal was nowhere to be seen, yet Bart couldn't tear his eyes from the open door.

He was free again, after a brush with death. But now he knew he had to live with Bob's confession.

Chapter Text

"I bet the only thing you're screwing these days is your right hand, Bart."

"Hey, get bent, dude. When was the last time you landed a date?"

"I still get more chicks than you, softy."

"Screw you. What about you?"

"Damn... I guess, three months ago. My game is not that good. Got any good pick-up lines?"

"Pick-up lines? I guess I've got a few. Like, 'Did it hurt when you fell from Heaven?'. Does that shit work? What's yours?

"I kinda like 'Hey, how's Heaven been since you left?' I guess, depending on the girl."

"Mine is, 'Now that you're here, I only have two wishes left. Wanna share?' I think it's funny, too."

"I stole one from my dad, 'I have many pick-up lines, but I have nothing for perfection like you.' It's how he got my mom."

"Has it worked so far?"

"Eh, not really..."

A few feet away from the chatting group of friends, Bart noticed Bob rolling his eyes. It was anyone's guess why he was even hanging around them, if he thought so little of their conversations. It also made him wonder what were his methods in terms of seduction, and how much better he must think it was.

"What about your folks, Bart?"

"Oh, wow. Now that's some kind of miracle. I mean, my parents are still together after decades. I don't know what my mom finds in him. I'd like to know his secret."

"There's gotta be something that works everytime. Like, magic words to get them for sure. There's a code to break, there."

"Oh, please," Bob's voice interrupted as he approached them, clear irritation coloring his tone. "You are all fools if you think that works."

"That's rich coming from someone who collects divorces like trading cards," Bart called out, proudly earning a few chuckles from his gang.

Bob gave him a pointed look, affected by the comment but not defeated. "That means just as many marriages. Tell me, Bart, how many of your relationships resulted in beautiful weddings?"

Amidst a choir of 'oooh's from his friends, Bart shrugged and snorted dismissively, but looked away, at a loss.

"C'mon, man," one of the guys asked Bob directly. "Show us how you get the ladies!"

"Here Bart, be the lady so he can show us how it's done!"

"Wait, wha- woah!" Without any warning, Bart was pushed forward by a couple of hands. He almost tripped, and ended up a feet away from Bob, who couldn't help but bare his teeth in amusement.

"Easy with you, Bart," he said as he extended his hand to him. "You would make a fine girl."

"Uuh..." But he didn't have time to finish his sentence as he was pulled in by the arm to be even closer. Unsurprisingly, Bob looked excited at the idea of embarrassing him in front of his peers. The hand that coiled around his shoulder, keeping him near, was there to remind him that yes, he was having fun being condescending.

"The most important aspect of seduction," he began, addressing his younger audience with unnecessary eloquence, "and what you need to remember most, is to always refer the other as their own individual. Don't waste your breath with hollow pick-up lines. No one falls for them. Your words need to be tailored to each of them! Make them feel exceptional... in their own way."

Between Bob's fingers digging into his skin, keeping his body against him, and the faces of his so-called friends holding back their laughter, Bart simply didn't know what to do. He tried to listen, but he was too distracted to do so.

"For instance-"

Oh, no.

Before he was ready for anything, Bob turned him so they would be face to face. He took in Bart's chin with his long, slender fingers and raised his head so he would be looking up at him. Bart had to fight the urge to recoil, but that would be giving the man a small victory.

"You and I share something deeply special," Bob cooed quietly, just loud enough so he would be heard by the assembly. "A history the world envy us. There is but a fine line between hatred... and its opposite."

One of the guys was dying of laughter. Bart could hear him. But Bob just ignored him as he glanced quickly toward them to continue his advice.

"This also goes for your compliments, of course. Here," he looked back at Bart and breathed in slowly. "How I have been longing to take a dive into those deep-blue-sea eyes of yours. I would gladly drown in them... Take me to the abyss, Bart."

The blond had to focus hard to fight a raging blush. It was caused by the extreme proximity, the warmth radiating from the other body, and the sheer embarrassment he was experiencing. Bob's smooth, velvety voice and usual poise didn't help, either.

"Then, I pull the person into my arms, to let them know how much I long for them."

To illustrate his words, Bob suddenly grabbed his waist and pulled him against his chest. In a bizarre act, he was giving Bart a soft smile that looked almost sincere. A smile that was hard to hate.

"And they fall for that?" one of the guys asked while they were pushing eachother around trying not to burst out laughing. Strangely, they sounded so far away, at least for Bart.

"Some do, yes. You have to remember, always pay attention to the other's reactions. Learn how to read your partner."

Bart gulped with difficulty and his lips suddenly became very dry. But there was no way he would lick his lips at that moment, not in Bob's arms as he was teaching him and his friends how to seduce. His eyes were darting back and forth away from Bob's face as he was trying to act casual, but he was certain that Bob noticed. And how he hated that.

"If I read the correct signs, I eventually go in for the kiss. Only when I'm sure..."

Bart watched Bob lean in slowly. He saw the man close his eyes, gradually. He saw his lips tighten slightly, shifting his face into an unknown expression, one that looked... appealing? He was pulled in closer still. And it felt like time was stretching. Bart's eyelids were feeling heavy – he was probably very tired. Yes, that would explain why Bob started disappearing behind his lashes. He parted his lips, ready to welcome whatever was coming, without any protest.

As suddenly as a clap of thunder, Bob freed him by pushing him back. Bart blinked, and he teetered on his feet briefly as they were back facing the audience of roaring students, and Bob was back to his teaching fetish.

"And there you have it. A free course in seduction. Of course, keep in mind that this was an accelerated performance. Remember: everyone is unique and special. Yes, even dear Bart, here."

There was a round of applause, more for the entertainment than for the lesson itself.

Bart broke away from his grasp and put some good distance away from him, as well as from the group, looking away from everyone, just in case.

"Oh, man..." he murmured to himself, fighting the urge to run off.

Milhouse, noticing his peculiar behavior, stopped laughing and joined him, away from the gang.

"You alright, there?" he asked with remnants of a smile he was trying to hide.

"Uuh... No," Bart replied simply as he made a quick exit before giving them all any more reasons to laugh at him.

Chapter Text

The clock struck 1.30am. Once he had made sure of the time and the surrounding stillness, he entered the now empty corridor. Every step was deliberate, knowing exactly where to land so the floorboards wouldn't creak under the pressure of his weight. He knew every square inch of the Simpsons' house. Every corner, every door, every window was mapped in his mind, after his many years of experience. Even in complete darkness, he walked on with decided ease, inching closer to his targeted room.

He wasn't fighting the silence. He was working right alongside it. He had learned to make it his accomplice, for the sake of such private ventures. Everyone was asleep by now. Well, mostly everyone. In the welcoming lull of the night, he didn't stop, comforted by the idea that his goal was just a few rooms away.

As soon as he reached the expected door, Bart raised a hand and scratched the wood with his fingernails, just loud enough for its resident to hear, desperately hoping that he was awake inside, waiting for him.

After a few grueling seconds, he heard the knob turn and the door creak open slowly. With his eyes well-adjusted to the darkness, he could see the tall figure waiting for him inside, his long face lit up by the moonlight pouring in from behind just enough to see how unhappy he was with the intrusion.

"Really?" Bob murmured, his voice carrying more than a tinge of irritation toward his his nightly visitor – but Bart stood his ground, unphased by the possible threat of an uncomfortable scolding. "You spend the near-totality of your waking hours insulting me in front of your family and friends, you look so happy to call out my inability to get a proper steady job in the unforgiving world, you revel in getting a good laugh at my expense, and when night falls," he leaned on the doorway, a playful smirk contradicting his seething anger, "you come back to me, asking for attention?"

An odd feeling washed over Bart, who nearly looked down in what might have been shame, a natural reaction a child could have in such a situation. But a child he was no more, yet he had kept his trademark bravado, even in the face of Sideshow Bob, so he raised his chin and looked him straight in the eyes.

"It's not my fault you're an easy target for banter. Always have been," Bart snapped back in a low voice that bordered on obnoxious. "My family can't know what you do to me at night, so I have to balance it out during the day, don't I?"

Bob rolled his eyes, unwilling to play along at first. But after shifting his weight to stand to his full height in the doorframe, his silhouette illuminated by the light coming in from his window, he eventually showed Bart a wide toothy grin, and looked down at him with predatory eyes, the one he had been aching to see. The consequences of playing with fire, and Bart had always loved getting burned.

"I'm forever grateful for your parents letting me stay for as long as needed," Bob began in a whisper far too casual to be sincere. "And it is true that they can't know how I pay my debt with you. However..."

Before he could react, Bart found himself pulled violently into a tight embrace, his arms pinned to his sides in an inescapable hold. His feet shuffled behind, not even supporting his weight anymore, but he didn't struggle. There was no point in struggling from exactly where he wanted to be. Bob ran a finger along the side of Bart's face, following the cheekbone with that oh-so-familiar glint in his eyes that drove the young Simpson insane. He was finding it hard to keep his breath steady, now under his rough grasp. This look that Bob was giving him right now – it was just for these private moments of theirs. Just between them. Just for him.

"Since that other day, I know now how loud you can actually be when we are all alone in the house. Quite... Wild... Just my taste..." Bob let a quiet chuckle out, nearly laughing in Bart's face, and tilted his head. "And after all I gave you that day, you still demand more? Are you sure you'll be able to hold it in this time?"

"I can do that," he replied instantly with a confidence that obviously wasn't shared with the other man.

"Oh, once I'm in charge, I doubt you'll be able to hold your tongue. So, tell me. How do you want it? Sweet and loving?" he suggested as he stroked his cheek again, the moonlight reflecting off his soft eyes and sending him a caring smile.

"Or..." His hand slid down as his features hardened, and his fingers anchored themselves into the skin of his neck, making Bart feel his pulse rush through his veins. "Long and torturous?"

Despite the pain, or perhaps thanks to it, Bart felt his lips widen into a messed-up smile, his feet barely touching the floor. "The- the s-second one..." he managed to let out, uncontrolled, thankfully not too loud.

"Long and turturous it is, then."

After a second-long agreement, Bart was released back onto solid ground, then pulled inside without any protest. As the door was being closed behind him, a last murmur was heard before the hallway fell back into its usual serenity.

"My favorite."