Chapter Text
He's 10 and spending the night at Milhouses' whenever it hits him. They're laying on the floor of the living room, sitcom reruns lightly playing on the TV. Milhouse is asleep, dead to the world. Bart lays awake, their "energy drink" concoction from earlier in the night keeping him from closing his eyes for longer than 30 seconds. That, and one other thing.
Milhouses' nose will not stop whistling.
It's ear-piercing, constant, and everytime you think it's finally stopped it comes right back a few seconds later. Honestly, he has half a mind to take his pillow and smother him with it.
And well, screw it. He's Bart Simpson, and he does whatever the hell he wants. Sitting up on his knees, he grabs the corners of his pillow and raises it above his head. As he revs up for the devastating blow that will end the whistling, wake up Milhouse, and inevitably induce a coughing fit, he looks down.
Milhouse is asleep on his back, arms and legs sprawled out and mouth slightly open. There's drool on the corner of his mouth that's made its way to the pillow beneath his head. His glasses are askew on his face. A dull roar of a sitcom laugh track plays over the scene.
It could easily be chalked up to a lack of sleep or caffeine come down, but either way the feeling was there.
He honest to god felt a little attracted to Milhouse.