Part 90
The Simmons brothers were enjoying their second drink as they waited for their meal to arrive. While their conversation had been companionable it had mostly been one sided with Graham the quieter contributor to the topics that Philip kept changing at lightening speed. The artist was now discussing how much he was looking forward to a lazy Sunday morning; with Jack, a plate of bacon and eggs, freshly squeezed orange juice and a nice cup of tea when his gaze flickered over Graham's right shoulder then back to his dinner companion's face. He raised his glass in salute to his brother as he said, "Don't look now but Claudine is being shown to a table. She's alone!"
Graham sat back in his rich-red, velvet-covered chair as he smoothed his hand across the thick linen tablecloth as he reached for his glass.
"On the other side of the restaurant, I hope-" he commented without a trace of interest as he drank another mouthful of his whiskey then returned the glass to the small, wet ring left behind on the white cloth.
Philip tried to look nonchalant as he said, "Far enough away that we can talk about her without worry of her overhearing us."
"Unless she reads lips," he said.
Philip gave him a vacuous stare then his lips curled at the corners in a teasing grin as he taunted his brother with, "It's not *my* lips she was interested in, I seem to recall!" Still he moved the long, gold candle in the short silver candleholder to the side a little more where it blocked out most of her face, and in return, most of his from her. He was about to tell his abstracted companion to take her up on her interest when Graham spoke first.
"Well, she's not getting anywhere near mine!" He declared as he toyed with the tumbler, spinning it on the wet mark.
With some surprise, for he’d wondered a few times if Graham’s distraction had something to do with Claudine, and opportunities missed, Philip reminded him, “But you said earlier…”
The ebony lashes fluttered as Graham lifted his face and declared on a sigh, “I’ve revised my opinion.”
“Already?” Philip grinned.
The older man shrugged then downed a little more of his drink.
“I thought that was only the prerogative of women and gay men, dear brother!”
Graham’s eyes lowered again but a smile kissed his dark pink lips. “I didn’t know it was a prerogative of gay men.”
“It is!” Came the flippant response.
Graham shook his head and muttered, “Well, I’m definitely not interested..”
Philip couldn’t resist adding to the slight blush over his brother’s cheeks. "Oh Grae, you mean to tell me that that short skirt and plunging neckline does nothing for you 50-50 blood...?" He was referring to Graham's bi-sexuality.
The older brother's dark eyes settled on his witty companion. Philip chuckled and bowed his head as he sipped his red wine.
"I'm surprised that your 100 percent blood could notice a short skirt." Graham retorted with a smirk.
"Hey, I'm gay-" Philip shrugged. "I'm not blind.” Graham's smirk turned into a broad smile while Philip gave a disgusted shiver as he muttered, "Though why anyone would want to spend time with a woman..."
"You tried it.."
"Once!" Philip shivered again and pulled a disgusted face. "That was enough! Give me a good, strong guy any day," he said unabashedly with a lustful sigh. "With hair in all the right spots," he went on to say with a huge grin.
"Just like Jack, no doubt!" Graham said, lifting his hand to order another drink. Philip held his glass up to indicate he wanted another red wine.
Once the waitress left Phil folded his arms onto the table and leaned closer.
"*Exactly* like Jack.." He said with a burgeoning smile.
Graham rolled his eyes then settled back against his chair. "I prefer mine smooth, and long legged.." He said with a suggestive twinkle in his eye.
Philip shuddered again, this time deliberately, as he muttered, "Yikes!"
*
Graham tossed his keys onto the small table beside the front door as he entered the apartment. Neither man was so intoxicated that they didn't stop for a few moments and just take in the incredible moment that Philip was coming home to spend his first night at home – a healed man.
For a while it seemed, to Graham, that he would never see his brother in this place again. The two men exchanged glances but never said a word to each other. The moment wasn't lost though - as they both knew that the other was feeling the intensity of the event. After a few moments Philip scratched at his long sideburn as he said, "Shall I make us a cup of tea?"
Graham laughed, and his eyes instantly watered as he nodded. Philip's eyes watered too as he crossed to the small kitchen to switch the kettle on.
The older brother went over to the CD player and turned on some soft, background music while he loosened his tie and stepped on the heels of his shoes to tug them off. In socked feet he moved over to the sofa and dropped down heavily onto the well-worn cushions. He gave a soft groan as he straightened out his legs and rested them, ankles crossed, on the coffee table.
He stared out the patio door at the dark night then lifted his gaze as Philip moved up to his side, held down a drink to him and then smiled. The artist held his cup out as he said, "Here's to my first night of freedom."
Graham chinked his cup against the offered one and said, "Thanks for sharing it with me."
Phil smiled at him again. "There's only one other person I'd have wanted to be with tonight-" He said in all honesty and the brother nodded solemnly.
"I know."
"But I really enjoyed dinner and I do thank you for passing up the opportunity of being with Claudine to honor your invitation with me."
Graham shrugged and settled back, hugging the cup between his palms. “Like I said, I reneged on my interest.”
“I’m fascinated to know why, too!” Philip said with a gentle laugh as he settled into his favorite chair. He balanced his cup of tea on a stack of books on the table then he reached his hand down, unlaced his shoes and eased them off his heels. He wriggled his toes then grabbed his cup and sat back. As he tucked his feet under him he said, “What was wrong with her? Maybe what you need is a good lay, dear boy, then you might not be so moody.”
Graham met his gaze then looked away as he blew across his hot drink. “I’m not moody.”
Philip snorted then sipped his tea. He gave a loud, deep sigh of satisfaction as he allowed his head to drop back against the headrest. As he gazed at the ceiling he snorted. “Yeah, right!” Then he rolled his head against the cushion and shifted his gaze to the other man. As if to accentuate his disbelief in that comment, he added, in sarcastic humor, “And I had your full attention tonight, too!”
Graham frowned then his face filled with genuine regret when he realized his quiet anxiety about the missing men had been obvious to his dinner companion. “I’m sorry, Phil, I didn’t mean to ruin the party…”
Concern filled the ebony eyes at the emotional response. Philip said, in a soft, low voice, “You didn’t ruin it. I admire you for trying to stay with me most of the night.”
Graham looked at him for a long moment. “Shit!” He sighed, got up to pace the room and then he went and changed the cd.
Philip twisted in the chair, hooked his arm over the back as he said, “That came out wrong.”
“No, it didn’t. You’re right. Try as I might, my mind did wander a few times tonight. I mustn’t have been much company.”
Graham put on a Queen CD then lowered the volume again as he went back to the sofa. Philip shrugged as he sat back around again.
“We had a few good laughs.”
Graham met him with disappointed eyes. “But it was meant to be a celebration.”
They held the gaze between them for a long while then Phil said, in a genuinely concerned voice, “Somehow you don’t seem like you have much to celebrate at the moment.” He tilted his head and asked, “Anything I can help you with?”
Graham slowly shook his head as he balanced his cup on the arm of the sofa.
“Is it Poppa?” Philip asked after another moment of silence.
The older man frowned. “Poppa?”
Philip put his cup of tea down, sat forward and laced his fingers together as he rested his elbows on his thighs. He hung his head a moment then growled softly as he lifted his gaze to meet Graham’s almost scared eyes. He knew this was no-man’s territory with his brother. With a soft grunt he raised his brow and waited for an answer.
The brother shook his head as he held his hand up. “We are not having that particular conversation. Not tonight! Tonight is for celebrating, remember?”
Philip shook his head. “No. We’ve done the celebrating thing now I think we really need to do the ‘talk about Poppa’ thing.”
“I don’t want to. It’s too depressing for tonight. I know I was a shit companion earlier but we can change that now,” Graham said hopefully.
Again Philip shook his head and his curls bounced against his cheeks. "We already celebrated, and now we're mellow.." He sighed before taking a large gulp of his tea.
"That's what you get for mixing your drinks!" Graham quipped as he swirled his cup. "We should have stuck to the alcohol!"
This time the younger man nodded. "You’re right! Screw this. I'm going to get a beer from the refrigerator. There is some in there, right?"
Graham shrugged. "I guess so. If you left any behind… I don't really drink the stuff, as you know."
Philip rose to his feet and looked down at the man sitting back against the sofa, his feet against the edge of the coffee table. "Do you want a whiskey?"
Graham lolled his head back against the cushion then sighed and said, "Yeah, why not."
He listened as his brother rummaged around in the kitchen, heard the scrap of a lid being screwed off a bottle then he reached up his hand as the black-clad body reappeared, holding out a tumbler with at least three fingers of whiskey in it. He shifted his gaze up to the face above him.
Phil commented, “If I get your drunk enough maybe you’ll loosen up and tell me what’s wrong.”
Graham sighed as he took the drink. “It really isn’t anything you need to worry about.” He hated himself for that lie too.
Philip sat in his chair again and ripped off the lid from his beer. “It worries you so therefore it is something I need to worry about.” He tossed the lid and watched as it skidded off the cluttered table and bounced onto the floor. “Why won’t you tell me?”
“Phil..”
“Grae!” He sat forward again and rolled his beer between his hands as he said, “I care about you, okay? You’re all I have in this world, family-wise, and Jack withstanding..”
The other man nodded.
“So if you have any problems I want you to know you can share them with me. I understand why you might not have done so, especially in the past few months, but-” He paused, sucked in a deep breath then said, in a slightly shaky voice, “You were there for me, Grae. You stood by my side through it all. I know it wasn’t easy, first you were there when I fell to pieces about John, and you took me in and you gave me a home.” He swallowed hard then went on. “And then through my emotional breakdown after the diagnosis of HIV… How would I have gotten through that without you?” Philip’s soulful eyes beseeched his brother and then he gave a soft smile that made his eyes fill with tears.
He continued, “God, I *know* the past few months, well years really, but mostly the last few months, they haven’t been easy on you! Watching me go through that. Having to deal with it all, alone. With me, and my moods.” He stopped for a second then blinked and lowered his face as he went on, “You dealt with Jack, eventually, and I know how hard that was because I know how much you really cared about Daniel..”
“You’re wrong about that,” Graham sighed softly to himself, so softly that Philip didn’t hear it.
He was still talking, “and when Momma and Poppa arrived too. You might not realize but I knew what was happening around me in those last few days and I was so sorry about you and Poppa..”
Graham’s eyes misted up and he shrugged then gulped down his drink. “It’s not important.”
“It *is*, for crying out loud!” Philip hissed in desperation as he reached out and slapped his hand over his brother’s that was resting on his thigh. Graham shifted his hand and gripped Phil’s for a moment then they released the hold and he sat back, ran his hand through his hair and sighed forlornly.
With bitterness rising in his words, Philip’s mouth turned down in a hateful grimace as he said, “That man screwed you up, didn’t he! God, I hate him!” He thumped the arm of his chair then growled in frustration.
“Philip! Calm down!” Graham sighed softly and reached for him again.
“No, I won’t! You’ve been more than a parent to me when he wouldn’t be. You are the one that taught me so much about life – and love..”
Graham snorted at that. “Sure, and you’re the one in a contented relationship with Jack while I’ve been all over the place! I didn’t even know my own mind!”
“You’ve always known your mind, Graham. You’ve always been strong about things like that, and you’ve always supported me.”
“No, I haven’t,” the older man said softly and bitterly.
“I know you’re cynical about gay relationship but that’s not really your fault, is it?”
This made Graham frown in puzzlement. “What do you mean? I’m not cynical about gay relationships. I’ve had a few, you know..”
Philip swirled the bottle of beer in his hand then took a large mouthful, swallowed and said, "I know you have but you have never taken them seriously, right? Blair, Daniel.. Chris, though god knows what you saw in *that* one.."
Graham's eyes closed slowly and growled as he rubbed his dark brow roughly. "Let's drop that subject please."
Philip nodded and said, "Sure, so long as you answer my first point.."
The dark eyes opened again and a frown marred Graham's handsome face. "What was it again?"
A wisp of a smile shadowed over Phil's lips at that. "Drunk already.."
"What can you expect, this is like my eighth drink tonight." Graham tilted the glass and upended the remainder of the liquid into his mouth before he swallowed loudly with a sigh.
"You asked me why I think you're cynical about gay relationships,.."
"That's right. Apparently I don't take them seriously!"
"You don't!"
Graham gave a deep groan as he leaned forward and put his empty glass down. "I think you're wrong about that!" He levered himself up off the sofa and reached for his cigarettes. He stepped over his brother’s lap and went outside, into the wet garden to have his cigarette in peace.
Philip had other ideas though. He moved over to the door and leaned against the frame as he said, "No, I'm not. Deep down I think you won't let yourself really fall in love with any man you're with - because that would really mean that you're a ‘gay’ man... and *you* can't wear that label.."
Graham hissed at him to lower his voice but Philip continued, albeit a fraction more quietly; "So you live this lie that you have men for fun only but the girls? You’ll consider one of them for the rest of your life."
Graham tilted his head and stared for a long time at his brother. Finally Philip cocked his head and said, "I'm right, aren't I?"
"No." Graham flicked his cigarette away and returned to the apartment. He paused in the doorway and peeled off his wet socks, picked up his glass along the way to dump the socks in the bathroom then he continued onto the kitchen. There was the sound of glass on glass then he reappeared in the doorway, where he leaned against the frame and drank the amber liquid. "You couldn't be more wrong.."
Doggedly, but with great concern, Philip went on, "Poppa told you that you'd be forgiven for any indiscretion with a man so long as you ended up married, with children. I heard him. That was the night he found you and that boy from the gas station together in the garage, what was his name?"
"Gerald?"
"I also heard every slap of Poppa's belt on your backside that night...and you crying.."
Graham sighed deeply then said, in a low, far-away voice, "I cried for hours that night.” Then his tone changed as he met Phil’s eyes. “I didn’t know you knew about that."
"And that's when Poppa came in and told you that you'd be forgiven if only you fathered children.."
The man at the door slumped his shoulder then rolled back as he lifted the glass and drained it. He turned back to the kitchen and muttered in a low voice, "I am never going to be forgiven."
Philip thought he was going to get another drink but he heard the sound of the water running and realized Graham was rinsing out his glass.
Soon the other man returned with a dishtowel in his hand and he wiped his hands dry. He laid the cloth over the back of the sofa and leaned on it as he stared across the room to the door that led to the yard.
"Neither am I," Philip said and this brought a faint smile to the older man's face. Graham shifted his gaze and looked at him, and then his smile grew broader.
"We'll live in damnation together, little Bro!"
Philip lifted his bottle of beer in a salute then said, "Yeah, sure, ya betcha!"
With a wink, he added, “Orphans!”
Graham laughed softly. “I doubt we classify for that honor.”
“Parentless, then!”
The older brother frowned at that thought. “Are you sure you want to sever all ties with them? What about Momma?”
Philip rolled his head to the side as if he was thinking about that then he said, “Perhaps the day Poppa dies I’ll write to her.”
“Philip” Graham said, full of concern for his little brother who had always been the apple of their mother’s eye. “You sure you want to hurt her like this?”
Philip got up and hugged the concerned man. “She didn’t stop him from hurting you. She should have.”
“I survived,” he mumbled.
The younger brother pulled back and held Graham by his upper arms as he said, “Sometimes I used to wonder if you did.” His gaze shifted between the ebony eyes. “But I think now – yes, you have.”
Graham’s brow crinkled for a moment. “Why now?”
“You finally stood up to Poppa.”
“You heard that?”
Philip nodded with a proud smile. He touched his hand to Graham’s cheek as he said, with some flippancy, “I know I was meant to be dying last week but you did both kinda argue over my bed a lot. I got to hear some of it..”
“Don’t-” Graham jerked his face from the touch and turned away.
“Don’t what?” Philip asked to his back.
“Joke about it,” Graham said before he looked over his shoulder at him. “Not yet.” With a shake of his head he turned back around to face his brother completely. His eyes searched the flawless face as he said, in a hoarse whisper, “I can’t do that – yet.”
“Joke about dying?”
“Exactly.” The word was so whispered that if it wasn’t for the head nod, Philip might have wondered what he said.
He registered the pain in the dark eyes watching him but he shrugged nonetheless and said in all honesty, “I have to. I can’t treat it any other way. How could I have been dying last week and now look at me?” He threw his arms wide then allowed them to slap against his thighs as he tilted his head and added, “It’s just my way, Grae..”
“I know.. but I can’t.. “ He shook his head again and looked at him soulfully. “Not yet. Maybe not ever!”
Philip nodded then hugged him close. “I’m sorry. Dying is harder on those left behind, I should remember that.”
“Is that another joke?” Graham mumbled against the shoulder.
“No,” Philip said solemnly. “It’s something my therapist said. Those that are dying might reach a place of accepting it, the inevitability of it. Those standing on the outside looking in – might never.”
“Did you do that? Accept it?”
“I don’t know really. I guess I just had too much on my mind to really know. Trying to communicate was a monstrous task, I remember. I couldn’t breath most of the time. And while you all knew how sick I was getting, I didn’t know. I just knew I felt like shit and whether I was getting worse from one moment to the next was hard to tell. I had too many things to worry about as well. You. Jack. Momma and Poppa. Daniel..”
“Why Daniel?”
Philip smiled. “Because he still loves you and I was worried that something stupid might happen because of the situation.”
“I thought you thought he was with Jack,” Graham said flatly.
“No, not while I was sick. That was a paranoia I only discovered once I was well,” he joked now.
With a heavy sigh Graham stepped out of the embrace and said, "Actually, considering what you told me about them, I think you did have some valid reason for being concerned. I didn't know you'd tried to get them together so much."
Philip nodded then gave a sad smile as he shrugged. "I did because I couldn't bear the thought that he'd mourn for me."
"Then of course it makes sense that it would concern you now.” He ran his hand through his hair then sighed as he moved back around to the sofa and sat down onto it heavily. “But all you have to do is talk to Jack though and you’ll see that you were worrying about nothing. I can tell you myself until I’m blue in the face, but you’ll believe him.”
A knowing smile creased Phil’s lips as he went to sit beside his brother. “I hate that you know me so well.”
“A minute ago you loved that I knew you so well.”
Philip chuckled softly and bowed his head then nodded. “Yeah, really I do!”
Graham searched his face closely then he said, “Then maybe I should let you know *me* a little better, too.”
A frown of question marred Philip’s pretty face as he said, “This ought to be interesting!” He settled in beside him, his head tilted to the side to lean against the cushions as he waited for his brother to continue on with their conversation.
<End of part 90>
Stories on this page are the property of Nessessitee and Slida. Please do not copy these without the written permission of the Author. All Rights are acknowledged for MGM, Gekko and Stargate Productions as to the Copyrights of the characters within this story and no infringement on the copyrights are intended. For the Bombshells Series the character of Philip Simmons is entirely the creation and intellectual property of Nessessitee and Slida.
While the performances given by RDA and MS help to fuel the author's desire to write for their characters in a niche that she feels is present on the actual show, the portrayal of their characters in loving relationships in no way reflects the Author's opinion of the men's private life, nor should it be construed in that manner.