To Be Young: Chapter 5 Burns/Smithers

Performance Anxiety

His first 'simple task' seemed simple enough: To sit and stay quiet until Burns called him for assistance. Waylon had changed out of his muddy clothes back into the ones he'd worn for school that day and now he sat nervously on the couch in Burns' den and stayed quiet just as he'd been instructed to do. Burns sat across the room at his desk, busying himself with paperwork. He was quite stylish for an older gentleman, wearing his maroon jacket and a pink shirt with a brown turtle neck sweater beneath it. Though a bit attention grabbing, he owned the look very well.

He watched in awe as the man scribed diligently into a notebook, the nature of his writing, a complete mystery. He used an old feather quill to write with, which Waylon thought was charmingly eccentric. That, along with the low ambient lighting of the crackling fireplace, cast about him an aura of old Gothic, perhaps even Victorian royalty. He really was quite stunning to watch, so much so that Waylon had to stop himself from blatantly staring just as Burns had caught him doing several times already, heat rising to his cheeks and burning red hot with embarrassment every time their eyes accidentally met.

He averted his eyes to the foggy window, watching as several snowflakes drifted lazily down and thankful that everything was nice and toasty in Burns' den. He felt rather fidgety, not really sure what Burns wanted of him, but he knew that he should be doing something more productive rather than just sitting there, yet he was reluctant to speak up about it and risk annoying Burns. Of course, it wouldn't be the first time he'd annoyed the man and most certainly not the last. Finally mustering up enough courage, he cleared his throat. Burns looked up at him, an eyebrow quirked curiously as the quill in his hand stilled, pressing against the parchment.

"Sir, Forgive me for the interruption, but--"

"Mr. Smithers, didn't I order you to wait quietly?" Burns interjected, eyes fixated on him and making his heart race with nervousness and a little bit of fear.

"Yes." Waylon stated breathlessly. Burns glared at him warningly for a long, tentative moment, clearly irritated at the interruption, before turning back to his work.

"Blast! Look what you made me do!" Burns interrupted suddenly, staring down at his paper with shock. Waylon rushed over to Burn's desk to see that he'd accidentally blotted his paper with a huge glob of black ink. Burns growled with annoyance, his eyebrows lowered angrily.

"I told you to sit and stay out of the way," Burns spoke, his eyes closed and his voice deceptively calm,  "but you couldn't even do that properly.

"I'm... I really am sorry. I didn't mean to." Waylon lamented, hanging his head ruefully. The silent anger emanating from his boss, just waiting to be unleashed was almost as fearful as his full blown anger.

"Now I'll have to start all over and I'm running low on ink as it is!" Burns' voice rose in volume and irritation. "I'll have to send out to the market for more." He then slammed the feather quill down onto his desk with a loud smack and stood up to leave. Once he'd left the room, Waylon stood there feeling like crap; his first task as a hired assistant having been a failure. He only hoped that this didn't set the precedent for the rest of the evening.

He looked down at the ruined paper on Burns' desk sorrowfully, seeing that it was halfway filled with Burns' loopy, elegant lettering. He felt a little guilty for doing it, but he inspected it further, seeing that it appeared to be a written segment of Burn's life regaling his early childhood before leaving his parents to live with his cruel grandfather. A time when he went by the common moniker 'Happy' by those who knew him. Waylon read on with interest until he reached the part where Burns had blotted the paper. Soon, he heard the familiar click of Burns' shoes nearing the room so he innocently stepped a few feet away from the desk and braced himself as Burns entered the room again, brushing past him and checking inside one of the drawers of his desk wordlessly.

"What am I doing?" Burns stopped and closed the drawer. "You're the assistant! You should be the one searching for another ink well!" Burns sat down in his desk chair, leaning back enough to prop his feet up comfortably on the desk.

"Well sir," Waylon's voice cracked, he wasn't sure if it was from nervousness or simply puberty. "I did bring my book bag from school and I have some extra pens that you could use if you like."

"It's not the same." Burn replied, crinkling his nose with disgust. "I like the feel of a good, old-fashioned quill. It makes for better penmanship. Much superior to those ball and point pens of today's youth."

"Um, that's ball point pen, and of course I'd be happy to look, but I'm pretty sure there aren't any jars of ink left since I organized the room just last week."

"You did? But I hadn't even hired you then." said Burns, looking at him perplexed. Waylon looked down to his shoes sheepishly, hoping that his obsessive compulsive organizing might, in some way, make up for his earlier incompetence.

Yeah, well... I thought it might be a nice gesture... and I wanted to help in any way that I could so..." Waylon's words trailed off in an attempt to show some humility. Mr. Burns swung his feet off his desk and stood up, his eyes fixated on Waylon with an expression that was unreadable.

"So. You straightened MY den without MY consent I see." said Burns, calmly stepping closer, his hands clasped behind his back. Waylon bit his lip, unsure just how to respond. He'd always done things for Burns without being asked and it made him feel special knowing that he'd helped. Waylon swallowed nervously,  anticipating a good scolding from Burns, but it never came.

"Ah... I suppose there's no harm done." Burns said, rustling his fingers through Waylon's hair playfully like he had the other day. He really hoped that this sudden penchant Burns had for mussing his hair would become a frequent occurrence. His heart raced at the touch of Burns' fingers, knowing that it was likely the most physical affection he'd receive from the man. "I haven't been this impressed since I first laid eyes on a young Waylon Smithers Sr." Burns smiled. "And I have no secrets from you anyway so..." Burns added after a moment.

"Really?" asked Waylon feeling a wave of relief wash over him that he wasn't in trouble. "You mean there's nothing dark in your past that you're worried I may find out about?" he asked in jest, mirroring Burns' smile.

"Well... I suppose I wouldn't put it like that exactly." Burns laughed, stepping away as if suddenly feeling a sense of invaded personal space, though Waylon wouldn't have minded being even closer. "I mean, everyone has a few skeletons in the closet... or down the secret corpse hatch in my office under the bear statue..." Burns added cryptically as if in an afterthought.

"Your what?" Waylon asked incredulously, uncertain if he'd even heard correctly. Burns laughed again, nervously this time, as he swiped a hand across his receding hairline.

"I do have quite the morbid sense of humor," Burns laughed. "Honestly Waylon, do you have to hang onto my every syllable as if it were the word of God?" Waylon laughed weakly, just glad to see that Burns seemed to have shaken off his irritation almost as quickly as it had come.

"If I may be frank sir," Waylon tread warily, "I just felt like I could be of more use doing something more... productive than just sitting around and waiting." said Waylon. Burns seemed to take this into account, thinking it over for a moment.

"I wasn't aware that you preferred a more active, hands-on role as my assistant. Though..." Burns paused hesitantly, "I'd hardly say that your presence wasn't conducive to my creativity."

Waylon waded through Burns' convoluted speech patterns for a bit of time before he realized, more or less, what the man was saying. That he simply desired Waylon's presence while he worked on his writing project and the notion that Burns would even admit something like that really warmed his heart. He couldn't help but care for the man that was once known by the name 'Happy'. Especially when moments of his former carefree personality shown through.

"I'm... I'm honored that you would feel that way sir." Waylon looked up to meet his eyes, blushing even more fiercely at the uncomfortably flustered look on Burns face at such a simple admission. Waylon watched curiously as Burns' fingers twitched at his sides, his hands slowly, hesitantly reaching forward towards him, then stopping as if indecisively, his fingers hovering mere inches away from Waylon's shoulders.

Waylon searched his eyes wantingly, desperately searching for even the smallest spark of fire, a reflection of his own love, yet uncertain that he could even handle such mutual affection. Waylon unconsciously licked his lips in anticipation, his pulse quickening so that it echoed in his ears as Burns leaned in closer.

Burns then did the unthinkable, grabbing Waylon around the shoulders and gently pulling him to his chest in a warm embrace, effectively trapping his arms down against his sides. Waylon gasped as he listened to Burns inhale deeply, almost as if taking in his scent which was something Waylon himself had been guilty of many times.

"Oh... Mr. Burns." Waylon hummed breathlessly. Burns sighed, burying his face in the crook of Waylon's neck. "Oh god..."

"Waylon." Burns said, pulling back slightly, yet still close enough that he couldn't see his face.

"Yes?" Waylon replied, feeling as if his entire life hung onto Burns' next sentence.

"I don't know... what's come over me." said Burns just a couple of inches away from Waylon's ear, breathing in one last whiff of his scent before pulling away slowly. "that scent it's... so familiar. So... intoxicating."

"Mmm..." Waylon moaned, speechless. His mind was swimming in a haze of confusion and deep affection until the realization set in that Burns was saying something and had already pulled away from him. "Wh—what was that... sir?" Waylon asked, his face so hot and flushed that his glasses had steamed over. He took his glasses off and cleaned them with the hem of his shirt. When he put them back on, he saw Burns staring back at him with the most adorably puzzled look.

"Forgive me f-for that... indiscretion. It's just your scent... I find myself uncontrollably attracted to it." said Burns distractedly, somewhat stumbling over his words. "Surely that isn't your natural scent because if it is you could bottle it up and sell it for a fortune!" Burns joked.

"Oh... the scent." Waylon looked down to Burns' shoes shamefully, his heart sinking to the pit of his stomach as he realized that what had just happened between them was far from what he wished it were. Of course he was a fool to believe that what he saw in Burns' eyes had anything to do with genuine affection towards him. It was that cologne he'd splashed so generously on himself that had attracted Mr. Burns. It was the love of money.

"Well... I'll suppose if I fetched the squeegee and you fetched the bottles... then we'd be in business." Waylon winced at how odd his own statement came off; however, Burns laughed anyway.

"You're quite the comedian my good man." Burns gave his shoulder a good slap before walking away and sitting back down at his desk, picking up a folder and busying himself with his paperwork.

Waylon sighed, still a bit on edge over what had just happened. He knew it was too good to be true, but still, for a moment, he knew what it felt like to be lavished with Burns' attention and it had felt like nothing else he could describe. He knew, from that moment on, that he was forever hooked, Forever ensnared by the charms of one C. Montgomery Burns and nothing would change that no matter how hopeless and unrequited that love would remain.

-  o  -  o  -  o  -

"Right there... sir?"

"No a little higher."

"There?"

"No no... lower lower. Yes, that's it. Right there! Excellent." said Burns as Waylon placed the old leather bound book on the shelf that Burns wanted it on in his extensive personal library.

Waylon grinned despite himself, enjoying every bit of innuendo that he could wheedle out of the man. Ah, the joys of being a sex obsessed teenaged boy. In that respect, he was typical of the average male. Thankfully, the discomfort and awkwardness from earlier seemed to have been forgotten as Waylon resumed his work for Burns.

Waylon carefully climbed down the ladder as Burns held it steady and when he got to the bottom rung, Burns placed one arm around his waist and the other on his rear to steady his decent. Waylon of course, needlessly drawing out the moment, hesitated as long as possible as he fiddled around with his shirt sleeve that had 'somehow' gotten snagged onto the ladder. Waylon finally held onto Burns' shoulder, making sure not to put too much weight onto him, and hopped down onto the solid wooden floors.

"You know sir, this job isn't very different from the things I've always done for you for free." Waylon smiled, his face still slightly pink from the climbing as well as the firm hand he'd just felt on his rear.

"Keep talking like that and I may stop paying you at all." Burns chuckled. Lesson number three: Never mention loving your job too much since the boss may see that as an invitation for never giving you a raise.

"Oh so we're keeping count now? Just out of curiosity, what were lessons one and two?" Waylon asked.

"Number one: Be on time. And number two: Follow all orders precisely and without question." Burns playfully tapped Waylon's nose as if punctuating the sentence, much like he would have done a child.

"Sir, You don't have to treat me like a little kid anymore." Waylon rolled his eyes, yet inwardly still melting at the affectionate manner with which Burns treated him.

"Right. I keep forgetting. Why, you're nearly an adult now aren't you? You're looking more like your father everyday." said Burns.

"Thanks... Yeah, I've seen pictures of him." Waylon answered somberly. Burns scratched his head, clearly uncomfortable talking about the man that Waylon had been told had died while on a trip to the Amazon by jungle warriors. Though it was a wild tale and somewhat unbelievable, he'd never questioned it, worrying that it might hit a sore spot for Burns and knowing that he'd rarely ever had a true friend like Waylon Sr.

"Well... enough dwelling on the past." Burns sighed. "I have the rest of the evening off so I think I'll just go take a nice soak in the tub."

"Okay, I'll just go fetch the butler if you want." Waylon started towards the exit, but Burns' voice stopped him in the doorway.

"I sent Raymond home early since you're here. You can start the bath for me." said Burns.

"M-me sir?" Waylon asked, never having been given the task of starting Burns' bath.

"Well that's what I'm paying you for. Are you questioning your orders Mr. Smithers?" Burns asked, narrowing his eyes warningly.

"N-no! NO! Of course not!" Waylon exclaimed. "I'll get right on it!"

Waylon rushed out of the room, nothing but inescapable images of Burns soaking in the tub, and naked at that, ran through his thoughts and he blushed furiously for what felt like the thousandth time that day.

Waylon entered Burns' bedroom, the familiar lavish style that pervaded the manor certainly matched the man's personality and posh lifestyle. The walls were muted lavender with various wooden framed pictures of Burns in his younger years hanging on the walls. To the right was a large canopy bed with matching lavender curtains and beyond that was a large, stained glass bay window. He'd rarely been in the room since he'd was a little kid spending his summers there, often waking Burns in the night because he needed water or had had a nightmare.

Waylon's eyes centered back on the bed and he couldn't resist the urge to touch it. He ran the tips of his fingers over the thick comforter and rich satin sheets. He'd bet it even smelled like the man. Unable to resist the urge, he sat down on the bed and sighed at how soft and comfortable it felt. He leaned over to look out of the door to see if anyone was coming before he gave in to yet another urge by lying down on his stomach and burying his face into the soft pillow.

"Waylon?" a soft voice called from the door. Waylon picked his head up and looked over to see Burns standing there in the doorway. His eyes grew wide. "I thought you were going to start my bath." said Burns, staring blankly at him, unsure just what to make of the scene before him. Waylon shamefully stood up from the bed and struggled to speak.

"I-I'll... I'll get right on that... sir." Waylon stepped aside Burns and hurried into the adjoining bathroom without another word. Hopefully Burns wouldn't mention it either.

The bathroom was huge with peach colored walls, checkerboard marble floors and a fancy claw foot tub centered in the middle of the room. Waylon turned on the hot water and placed a stopper in the tub. While it was filling, he went over to the linen cabinet and fetched a wash cloth and towel, placing them on the table near the sink for when Burns needed them.

After about a minute or two, the door creaked open and Burns came in. Waylon stepped aside as the man dangled his fingers in the tub to test the water. Waylon stood there nervously, hoping that he'd prepared everything to Burns' liking.

"Excellent." Burns withdrew his hand from the water and stood up. "A little too cool for my taste, but I'll let you off on it this time since you've never done this before."

"Thank you. Um... is there anything in particular that I should keep in mind? Like certain preferences that you may have?" asked Waylon.

"Eager to learn I see. That's a good quality." said Burns as he took off his maroon jacket and handed it to Waylon. "Normally Raymond, or whoever is on duty makes sure the water is precisely 107 degrees and adds a bit of scented bubble bath."

"Okay. Uh... should I fetch a thermometer?" Waylon asked worriedly.

"No, everything seems fine enough." Burns laughed. Waylon's eyes grew wide as Burns began unbuttoning his pink shirt. He gulped. He'd never drawn Burns' bath before and he wondered just what such a task entailed. He caught Burns' shirt as it was tossed his way as well as the brown sweater which came off soon after. He got a quick glimpse of Burns bare from the waist up before he looked away. He wanted to look longer, he really did, but he wasn't sure if he could take what he saw if he did. His eyes cast down to the floor, he saw Burns kicking off his shoes followed subsequently by the click of his belt, seeing it drop to the floor near the shoes. Next he heard the sound of a zipper and of clothes rustling.

Waylon ventured a quick peek, lifting his eyes cautiously just in time to see Burns stepping out of his trousers and kicking them aside. Burns stood with his back to him so it wasn't like he knew that his young assistant stood back there, practically ogling him now that he dared to look. Waylon's face reddened at the site of Burns in his underwear. The man was much thinner than he'd realized, yet he was still incredibly and unexplainably attractive to Waylon. He could probably count the bones down his spine. In fact, he unconsciously began doing just that as a distraction from his own embarrassment.

One, two, three... Burns fingers looped into the waistband of his underwear. ...four, five... He inched them down and stepped out, adding them to the rest of the discarded clothing on the floor. Eight... eleven... oh god... Waylon stopped counting, being greeted with the view of Burns' backside for a moment before the man got into the tub and sank down slowly into the steaming water. Waylon let out the breath he'd unknowingly been holding, slightly dizzy from the lack of oxygen.

"Waylon, take these clothes away and put them in the laundry basket over there, the maid should get to them shortly." Burns waived a hand towards him dismissively before sinking further into the water and sighing with relaxation, completely oblivious to the bundle of desire and embarrassment that he'd reduced his young assistant to.

"Mmm hmm..." Waylon uttered in response as he gathered all the clothes and took them to the basket while setting Burns' shoes and belt down near the sink. He stood there for a moment, unsure just what he was supposed to do now. Surely Burns could wash himself couldn't he?

"Waylon? I could use a bit of help." called Burns. Waylon let out a little, nervous sound at Burns' request. He approached the tub apprehensively and cleared his throat to speak.

"What..." he swallowed, "do you... need help with?"

"My back. It's a little out of my reach. If you would..." Burns handed him the wash cloth and Waylon took a deep breath. It was no big deal, certainly not as much as he was making it out to be. Burns sat up in the tub and leaned forwards.

"Well? Get on with it so I can finish my bath." said Burns. Waylon crouched down next to the tub and dipped the rag into the hot water and smoothed it over Burns' back, relishing the few brief moments his fingers were allowed contact with that warm skin, slightly flushed by the heat of the water.

"Don't be afraid to scrub a little harder Waylon, I won't break you know." Burns added. Waylon laughed weakly and rubbed the cloth and little harder, starting at the top of his spine and tracing over those prominent bones that he'd counted just moments earlier and only stopping when his hand reached down about and inch beneath the water. He then dipped the rag back into the hot water and moved to one of his shoulders, slowly wiping it across his skin while indulgently letting his fingers skim across Burns' shoulder, nearing his chest before he even realized where his hands were traveling.

His touch must have been more relaxing than he'd realized as Burns slowly leaned back, his eyes closed and sighing with relaxation. Waylon hovered the cloth over his chest hesitantly for a moment before gathering the courage to continue, returning the cloth to the front of Burns' shoulder and down to his chest to which Burns didn't even flinch. He held back a gasp of excitement when his fingers came into contact with the roughness of Burns' chest hair and he dared to move a little further to his abdomen when Burns finally stopped him.

"That's quite enough, thank you Waylon." said Burns. Waylon handed the cloth back to him and stood back up, his face glowing red and shocked at himself for letting his hands wander.

"Uh... w-what should I do next?" asked Waylon.

"I suppose that's all I need you for... for now." Burns answered. "Normally I just soak and relax, sometimes read, sometimes have one of the staff roll in the TV or bring me a beverage."

"Would you like me to bring you something?" asked Waylon, becoming a little more comfortable with the idea of being in the room while Burns was in the tub.

"Sure, a soda would be lovely." said Burns, closing his eyes and sliding slightly further down into the water.

"Okay." Waylon replied flatly, still a little undone by the whole experience. He quickly left to retrieve the soda that Burns had requested, his mind replaying the feel of touching the object of his affection, however innocent those circumstances had been. He returned to see that Burns had slid further down into the tub, yet still high enough to breath.

"Sir? Your soda?" Waylon said, yet Burns didn't respond. "Mr. Burns?" called Waylon a little more urgently, a hint of panic in his voice. He placed a hand on Burns' shoulder causing the man to stir and open his eyes to look up at him. Burns scooted up a little.

"Oh Waylon... I didn't hear you. My ears were under water and I must have drifted off. That happens sometimes." Burns took the glass bottle of soda, of which Waylon had already popped the lid off of, and took a quick sip before setting it down on the floor next to the tub. "I often have someone to sit with me to make sure I don't fall asleep and drown." Burns laughed darkly, though Waylon didn't think it was all too funny.

"Falling asleep in the tub... that sounds a bit dangerous don't you think?" asked Waylon, concerned. His gaze unknowingly drifted to the water, the blurry image of Burns' naked form momentarily distracting him before he looked away, blushing slightly.

"Well, there's no need to worry about that when I have you to watch over me." said Burns, causing Waylon to blush even harder. He looked back to see that Burns was eying him curiously. "Waylon, you look a little flushed. Are you alright?" asked Burns, probably more out of curiosity than real concern.

"Oh, no... I'm fine. I think it must be the steam of the water... the room is... slightly... " Waylon wiped his forehead which itched from sweat, though he had the feeling it wasn't only from the heat of the room. "Phew... is it hot in here?" Waylon tugged at his shirt collar. Burns quirked and eyebrow.

"Why don't you go sit down for a while? I'll be done soon and your shift will be over soon as well." said Burns.

"I'm fine, really," Waylon assured him, "but I can't just leave you here alone. What if you fall asleep again?"

"Well I'm sure the lack of oxygen and the water in my lungs will wake me," Burns laughed, "but if you're that concerned you can sit over there on the porcelain throne and read a magazine or something if you wish." Waylon flashed him a brief smile before crossing the room, hesitating for a moment before closing the lid on the toilet and sitting down. It wasn't the most dignified position, but it had been Burn's suggestion so he went with it. He spotted a magazine near the sink and picked it up to read, his eyes flitting occasionally over to Burns, relieved to see the back of his head and his elbows visible from the edge of the tub. After a while, Burns' voice startled him from a surprisingly interesting business article.

"I think I've soaked enough to turn into a prune by now." Burns chuckled. Waylon heard the water gurgling from the drain being pulled and looked up, unprepared for the site that his eyes were greeted to. There stood Burns, in all his glorious nakedness and this time, giving him not just the rear view, but the full Monty. Waylon took a deep steadying breath before laying the magazine on the sink and bringing the towel over to him. He handed the towel over to Burns, who quickly scrubbed the towel over his hair before wrapping it around his waist. Burns sure wasn't shy about his body that was for sure, not that he had a reason to be shy given how impressively 'gifted' he was. Waylon wiped the sweat from his brow again, both thankful and a little disappointed that Burns had finally covered himself.

-  o  -  o  -  o  -

Waylon's shift was only to be until six o'clock that evening, but it was already nearing eight and he'd had quite the full day being Burns' assistant. He'd helped to organize the library, watched as Burns tried on several suits and costumes just for the fun of it, one even being a pirate suit. He'd helped him with his bath, getting enough visual imagery of the man to fuel a lifetime's worth of fantasies. He'd also taken a tour of the mansion with Mr. Burns even though he'd already seen most of the rooms anyway, though he suspected that Burns just liked talking about his possessions and various hobbies and Waylon just happened to be an available audience.

He liked to think that Burns maybe viewed him as a friend. That's what they were weren't they? Friends? He knew that the man cared about him to some extent even if he didn't act like it sometimes. Why else would Burns so readily welcome him into his home, letting him stay for weeks at a time when he was a kid while all the rest of his friends went off to summer camp? Maybe he felt an obligation to Waylon Smithers Sr.

Waylon snapped to attention as Burns entered the den wearing his royal blue robe over light blue, pinstriped pajamas, smiling that he still wore those same fuzzy pink slippers that he'd worn the last time Waylon had seen him in his nightwear. For a supposed straight male, Burns did have quite the fondness for pink, which is why Waylon so often wore the color. In his hand, was a mug of something steaming, likely a cup of tea or coffee.

"Help yourself to a cup of coffee if you want." Burns offered.

"This late?" asked Waylon. "You aren't going to be able to sleep tonight with all of that caffeine." Waylon laughed.

"Ah, I'm fine. I'll be up for another couple of hours yet." Burns replied warmly, sitting down on the sofa across from Waylon and setting his cup on the coffee table between them. Sitting there like that together, Burns offering him coffee and smiling back at him as they spoke, it almost seemed like they really were friends.

Waylon looked up at the clock on the wall, seeing it was now about eight o'clock, but he didn't want to leave just yet and he'd finished all of his homework during school hours. Maybe Burns wouldn't notice; however, Burns caught his line of sight, seeing him looking up at the clock.

"Hmm... it is getting rather late." Burns sighed. "I was hoping to review some of my writing with you before you left, to get another person's take on it, but I'm sure you're probably ready to go home and be rid of me aren't you?"

"Oh no sir! Quite the opposite actually!" Waylon replied enthusiastically. "I'd love to stay longer if it's okay with you and you won't even have to pay me overtime!"

"Excellent, I really do need an honest opinion on my work, yet none of my staff seem willing to give me anything more than empty platitudes." Burns scoffed, picking up his cup from the table and taking a sip.

"Perhaps they're afraid. You are their boss after all." Waylon offered in way of explanation.

"Would you be afraid?" asked Burns, looking up at him from over his coffee cup before taking another sip.

"Well..." Waylon looked down to his lap, unsure how to answer that. "I wouldn't want to discourage you, but I'm sure anything you write would be interesting." he finally replied. If Burns' writing had been anything like what he'd read on his desk about his childhood, he'd definitely want to read it. He  didn't really care how good the quality of the writing was, it was just that the man had such a fascinating life that it deserved to be shared with the world.

A.N. - I don't think I'll be adding segments of Burns' writing since we all pretty much know Burn's life history from all those flashback episodes. Though, I may add excerpts if the story calls for it, but they'll probably be brief. I will try to post chapters more often, but I'd like to thank those readers that still want to read it anyway and always put up with my laziness. This chapter is slightly (a tiny bit) longer than average so I hope that helps.