Echoes and Passages
By Jessica Harris

So, a couple of my original characters have demanded a brief moment 
of stage time for themselves. This is just a doodle, really, and 
takes place in my "Towery City" universe, so probably won't mean 
much to you if you haven't read it. It's a scene between Simon, 
older brother to John (Mulder's boyfriend at Oxford), and his 
briefly mentioned 'best friend' Phillip. It takes place in their 
rooms at Oxford, a number of years before Mulder and John end up 
there.

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It was late, and Simon's eyelids were drooping, but he stubbornly 
remained at his small desk, too tired now to deny any longer what 
he was really doing: waiting for Phil to come home.

He yawned, wincing at the pull in his tense jaw and neck, and forced 
himself to stare at the page in front of him for a full minute 
before allowing himself to turn and check the clock again. Half past 
one. He should get to bed, he knew; he had an early lecture the next 
day. But he couldn't bring himself to give up yet. Instead, he 
dropped his head onto his crossed arms, letting his eyes shut just 
for a moment...

...and woke to the sound of the door opening and Phil swaying into 
the room with the exaggerated caution of the extremely drunk. With 
great concentration he attempted to hang up his coat, giggling when 
it fell to the floor instead. Staggering a little, he bent for it, 
and when Simon said "Leave it, Phil. We can clean up tomorrow," he 
gave a startled yelp and leapt upright.

"Si! I didn't see you there. What are you doing still up?"

"Fell asleep over my books," said Simon ruefully, telling himself 
that it wasn't, technically speaking, a lie. "Working myself to 
exhaustion while you, it seems, were out carousing." He had meant it 
to be joking, but it came out more sharply than he had intended, and 
Phil blinked at him.

"We were studying too. Tomkins and myself. Well, at first we were 
studying.  And then his sister dropped by, and we decided to go for 
a drink, and - I suppose we did end up carousing, rather."

He gave a lopsided grin and came over to prop himself on the corner 
of the desk. His hair was  all awry, its rough brown curls springing 
up comically on the crown of his head, and with his cheeks flushed 
and his brown eyes gleaming lazily beneath heavy lids he looked so 
funny and dear and familiar that Simon felt his worry and annoyance 
begin to fade. He rose a little stiffly from his chair and moved to 
stand between Phil's sprawled legs. "Did you have a good time?" he 
asked, a little apologetically.

"Yes, a marvellous time, actually," said Phil, smiling at him, and 
then Simon wound his fingers through the wild brown curls and pulled 
him in for a kiss. Phil fell easily into the familiar embrace, 
looping his arms loosely around Simon's waist before rising so that 
he could slide his half-hard cock against Simon's hip. The kiss 
lengthened and deepened, but his cock didn't get any harder, and 
after a while he pulled away and said, "In fact, I may have had 
entirely *too* good a time. Put enough drinks in me and I'm no good 
to anyone."

"I'm sure I can find some good in you," said Simon, pulling him 
close again and nuzzling Phil's neck.

Phil laughed, and said "Nothing can stop you, can it? You know, I 
should introduce you to Tomkin's sister."

Simon froze for a moment, startled. "What?" he said, softly.

Phil shrugged. "Well, she's clever, and quite pretty, and rather 
nice all round, rally. And it's time you started going about with 
some girls, you know."

Simon felt a oddly distinct physical sensation at these words, as 
though something had cracked open in the middle of his chest, a 
fault-line running from sternum to pubes. He was still looking at 
Phil, and Phil was still flushed and lovely and familiar, but Simon 
could feel that everything had just changed. He stood, rooted to the 
spot, his hands on Phil's chest, feeling his heartbeat against the 
palm of his hand.

Phil put on hand over his, and said, "I mean, I'm not complaining 
about...all this, what we do together. You're my best friend, and 
I - I'm very fond of you. But really - "

The first tendrils of pain were beginning to issue from the chasm 
in Simon's chest, and he shakily found his voice. "Really *what*, 
Phillip? Please say exactly what you mean."

Phil pushed him suddenly away, and crossed his arms defensively 
across his chest. "Come on, Simon. You know as well as I do what 
I'm talking about. This was alright when we were at school, and I 
hope we can still, sometimes. . ." he faltered, and with a wave of 
his hand changed tacks. "but we're men now. You don't want to end up 
like Donnelly and Manning, do you - a couple of old queens with silk 
scarves and matching handbags and a twice-monthly tea to which we 
invite the prettiest undergrads? We have to start thinking about the 
future, about marriage, our families, about - oh christ, Simon, 
please don't *cry*!"

Simon knuckled the shameful tears from his eyes, turned blindly 
away, and staggered to his small and mostly unused bedroom, his 
legs as unsteady as if he had been dealt a physical blow. Ignoring 
Phillip's voice behind him he shut the door with a bang, and, for 
the first time since they had taken these rooms together, locked it.

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