Dancing with Ghosts

[ickleronikins]

Ron wasn't entirely sure how he should take their mum's suggestion that he move in with George and help with the shop.  Sure, it really was a brilliant suggestion, but at the same time, he wasn't sure if she was just sick of having him mope around the Burrow.  He wasn't like Harry, Hermione, even Ginny, with their jobs at the Ministry, and playing

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[ickleronikins]

It seemed strange for a moment, the way that George called it the guest room, but maybe he just didn't want to talk about Fred at the moment, knowing it was a sore spot for the both of them. Ron looks better, but still not exactly good, not like he did before. He's still stronger, broader in the shoulders than the twins, but he's still a bit thinner than he used to be, and it doesn't sit quite right on his body, although it's not as bad as it was right after the War, when he had trouble forcing himself to eat at all. Nowadays he just doesn't have much of an appetite.

"Cocoa," Ron responds with a shrug of his shoulders as he walks away briefly to set his bags down. He breathes in the air, but it smells clean, and doesn't really smell like Fred. He almost wishes it did. He wanders back down, stripped out of his coat and takes a moment to look over George in the moments he has before his brother notices that he's being watched; possibly none at all, the twins were always good at that. He got caught looking on more than one occasion, but they'd always all laughed it off in between jabs and well-meant teasing.

He drank cocoa because the chocolate helped, even if it was just a bit. Made him feel less alone, less helpless, as if there had to have been something that they could have done differently. Something where Fred would still be here, winding him up over one thing or another. "How's the shop been?" It's a mild question, trying to feel this out, having someone to live with that's not mum. And, truthfully, he still loves George more than he should.

[weasleykink]

George sets about to making them both cocoa, pulling out the ingredients and he hops up on the counter to wait for it to boil. He doesn't notice he's being watched until he's seated, until he's facing the doorway, and he offers a little smile.

It will be strange to have someone living with him who doesn't share the bed. He's never had roommates expect in Hogwarts, and that was different because Fred had been there too and with him there no one else had really mattered. After, they'd lived here, and he didn't really want to live with anyone he couldn't curl up with after a long day, but Ron was family and he loved him and knew that he wasn't the only one who missed Fred and needed a little help. Ron missed him too, though maybe not as much or in quite the same way.

"Busy," he said. "I've been swamped. But it's better than having nothing to do…" he kicked his heel at the counter, still looking at Ron. "How's Mum?"

[ickleronikins]

Ron moved to lean against the edge of the table as he looked over at George, a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Well, in theory that's why I'm here, init?" He shrugged his shoulders at the question. "Best as she can, really. She keeps herself busy and tries not to think too much about everything everyone lost in the War. I don't think having me moping around was helping any," he offered with a tilt of his head. It's been almost a year, but Ron's not over it. Not like how Bill and Charlie and Percy just seemed to more or less be able to get on with their lives. When it got bad, mum would remind him Fred wouldn't want him to be like this, but somehow that just made it worse. As if he was disappointing him.

"I'm glad to get out of there, though... Mum has a tendency to be a wee bit smothering," a fact he was sure George was more than aware of. At least here he could breathe without having mum worrying over him. Leave her to worry over Harry and Ginny and Hermione and that new bloke she was dating. He didn't blame her, not in the least. If he was honest with himself, he'd loved Fred more than he'd loved her, and you can't compete with the dead.

[weasleykink]

"Yeah, I guess you've got a point," he says as he pushes himself down and off of the counter.

"Just a wee bit? She must have gotten better since I've left," he teases back, because he knows a wee bit is putting it lightly. The kettle starts to whistle just before a flick of his wand sets it to making them cocoa.

"You can mope around here as much as you like. Nobody's going to judge you for it or make you feel like you shouldn't. However, I might be forced to turn you green or something if you get too obnoxious," he picks up the first mug of cocoa and passes it to Ron, not quite able to hide the grin. Their hands brush as he gives him the mug, and then he goes back to pick up his own.

[ickleronikins]

He grinned as George commented about their mum, because he was right, of course. She didn't seem to notice that Ron was an adult, and mothered over him as if he was still just starting Hogwarts. Of course, maybe he'd needed it; he still had bad days when he could hardly manage to get out of bed. But, the freedom was nice. Hearing George say that no one would judge him for it made him feel warmer than the chocolate ever did.

"If I'm that obnoxious, being green'll probably be the least of my worries," he said with a soft chuckle. He hadn't smiled like this in a long time. It was somehow easier with George, who understood how hurt he was better than anyone. He takes the mug, and there's a slight shiver as their hands touch. He almost wants to hug him, to just be close to someone, and for a few moments feel like the world isn't quite so dark. But, he's an adult now, and just needing a hug like this seems somehow childish.

Instead, he sips at his cocoa, leaning back against the table, and stealing glances at George through his red lashes. He'd been able to tell them apart for years, but somehow, now, all the ways in which George isn't Fred are just more glaring without his twin at his side. He felt like he ought to ask how he was, but he just couldn't make himself do it. "I.. I'm not gonna ask if you're okay, because even I'm not that thick."

[weasleykink]

George settled down on the other side of the table. He takes a sip of his cocoa and sets the mug down on the table and leans forward. He's afraid that there's going to be a lot of this, staring and silence, and Ron looking at him like that. He shifts a little, uncomfortably, because he can feel the question unasked between them, but then he announces that he's not going to ask and George feels himself exhale with relief.

"Thanks," he says, fidgeting with a loose yarn at the cuff of his green sweater. "I'm doing better, though," he says, feeling the need to say something because even if he's not asking, he's still brought it up.

The evening went along like that, alternating between stretches of silence and awkward moments as they settled in comfortably. He was enjoying not always being alone in the flat. When Ron slipped off to start to unpack his things, George followed him in and flopped down on the bed to keep him company, or rather, annoy him.

He lay on his belly, propping his head up on his fists, facing the foot of the bed, feet very pointedly on each of the pillows, just because he was capable of being a git.

[ickleronikins]

Ron's glad George is doing better, he is too, which he admits a little softly. Things are awkward, but comfortable; it's easier being here than it was with mum. She'd be fretting, shepherding him into the kitchen trying to give him things (anything) to do. The only upside is that he actually knows how to cook for himself these days.

The cocoa gone, he heads upstairs to get his things unpacked, and he smiles as George follows after him. He shoots his brother a look as he pulls some sweaters from his bag, putting them into the dresser. "Oh, don't be a git. You'll give me more nightmares with your smelly feet," he declared playfully, making a face.

He'd missed this, not that he'd say as much. It wasn't just Fred that he'd lost, but the teasing and the laughter and the smiles, and it makes his throat feel a bit thick as he looks over at him. Mum was right, of course. He'd been worried he'd make it worse.

[weasleykink]

"Deal with it," George says as he makes a point of wiggling his feet around on the pillows to get as much pillowcase coverage as possible with them. He's grinning up at him as he puts his clothes away, and he's enjoying this. Missing Fred has been hard, and though he tells everyone it's getting easier, it's hard for it to really get easier when every minute of every day is different than it used to be.

With Ron here, things didn't feel the same, but he wasn't alone, and the difference didn't hurt so much.

[ickleronikins]

"Git," Ron declares, sacrificing one of his folded shirts to the cause of having something to throw at his brother. He smirked a little triumphantly as it flopped onto him, and unpacking was all smiles, at least for a while.

Ron made dinner, and they ate, talked quietly, still peppered with those awkward silences. It had been a long day, and he'd been up since early packing, and so Ron headed to bed fairly early. He'd thought that maybe, tonight, in a new place, with George just on the other side of the wall, sleeping in Fred's old bed (or so he thought) that it would be okay.

But it wasn't.

He woke up with a choked sob, tears in his eyes, hot and streaking his cheeks. And half asleep, he just couldn't help himself. He wasn't thinking, just desperate for comfort, like he was a child with a nightmare again, back when he'd crawl in between Fred and George. Tonight, it's just George, but he still slinks in under the covers, head fitting in under his chin with a wordless whine.

Hold me.

[weasleykink]

As pleasant as the evening was, he still went to bed alone. It was strange, but he felt lonelier tonight than he had previous nights, as if Ron here had suddenly altered his expectations, as if the renewed life and laughter in the flat somehow meant that he'd be curling up against someone that night. But that wasn't the case.

At least until, part way through the night, he found himself woken by a warm slipping under the covers, up against his body. There's a brief moment while he's still half asleep that he thinks it's Fred. There's the soft, sad sound he makes and it hits a place in George that's always made him protective, and he wraps his arm tight around Ron's shoulders. He's starting to surface from sleep enough that he knows he's made a mistake, that it's not Fred but Ron, and he instantly feels guilty that he's disappointed and more than that, sad that he still expects to wake up and find Fred in his arms.

He hugs Ron a little tighter then, but it's a couple of moments before he manages to say anything, and when he does he murmurs, "Are you okay?"

[ickleronikins]

Ron doesn't respond at first, he snuggles in closer to George's body, wet cheek dragging against his cheek, and his arms wrap around his brother's waist, holding on tight because it seems okay. George isn't pushing him away, isn't asking what he's doing, but instead asking if he's okay. He isn't, not really, still shaking from the spiderweb remnants of his nightmares, of Fred; beautiful and brilliant and vibrant and then... gone. In his dreams, everyone hates him, turns away from him, forsakes him. He's sick, a pervert, and it's his fault.

"I'm sorry," he breathes softly, voice breaking as the world feels so infinitely dark and empty and lonely. But it's different; his heart still pounding, aching, but there are arms around him, catching him, keeping him from falling completely.

Ron blames himself for it, can't help it. How could they save the world and not keep the two people that meant the most to him safe? Why had it been Fred? He'd felt bad enough when George had been hurt, losing Fred made it almost seem like it hasn't been worth it.

[weasleykink]

"Don't be," he says softly, the break in his voice tugging at him somewhere deep in his gut and he hugs Ron a little tighter. There's no explaining what comes next. Not really, even though in the seconds after he'd like to blame it on still being mostly asleep, but the reality is that he's more awake than not. He's just moving on instinct or reminiscence, but before he really knows what he's doing, he's moving in the dark to press a kiss against Ron's mouth.

He doesn't even immediately realize what he's done wrong, because Ron's lips are warm and inviting and soft and it doesn't feel wrong. It feels familiar, but it's not, and finally, belatedly enough that it's fairly obvious that this hadn't really been a mistake, he pulls from the kiss and stammers, red faced, "I'm sorry… I… I was dreaming… I was confused…"

[ickleronikins]

It caught Ron's breath, made his eyes flutter closed with a soft murmur when George's lips cover his. He trembles, too shocked, awed initially yo really lean back into it. He doesn't know what's happening, it almost feels surreal. Ron might be thick, but even he can tell that the kiss lasts too long, the silence stretches too quiet for it to have been entirely a mistake. Ron's cheeks are flushed under their freckles, and he echoes "Don't be," before he closes the distance.

He's giving himself away completely, but George kissed him first, and he's just so lonely. He loved them both, still loves them both, really. And so he kisses him, kisses George like he can kiss away both of their pain. One hand comes up, timidly brushing against his brother's red hair, not quite curling his fingers like he wants to, but touching. He doesn't know how much of this he can steal, but he wants all of it.

[weasleykink]

The truth is that he'd been very aware that it was Ron. He wasn't dreaming or confused. He'd been awake enough to know better, but he'd felt like he could get away with it and so he'd stolen a kiss.

He's expecting Ron to pull away, to recoil and not understand… or worse, to understand too much, to guess that this wasn't the first time he'd held and kissed a sibling, that sibling his twin. They'd kept it secret, done a good job keeping everyone in the dark about it, though they'd come too close to getting caught more than once.

But Ron isn't pulling away, instead he's coming back in, he's kissing him again. It's nothing like kissing Fred was. He's shorter and broader, and his body feels hot against his skin, like a furnace. And Ron isn't particularly skilled at kissing, but he's eager and it's so much more than just a kiss, it's a silent communication, and it's giving him away. George can't quite stifle the little hint of a moan against Ron's mouth.

They shouldn't do this. They should stop and talk about it, he should explain himself, or just put a stop to it, because somehow it hadn't seemed quite so wrong when it was his twin, but Ron's his kid brother… it should feel more wrong than it does. It has no right to feel this… right.

[ickleronikins]

Ron can't help the way he kisses George, eager and desperate and craving the contact. The fact that his brother isn't pushing him away gives him courage, curling fingers in his hair and his other hand dragging down his side. He's not very experienced, in honesty; the bulk of his relationship with Hermione fraught with danger, and overshadowed by the fact that he'd never want her as much as he should. He'd hoped. That if he tried, tried to be a good boyfriend he'd get over it. Then Fred had died and he'd been unable to even try. He was honestly lucky she didn't hex him for being such a cad.

He's trembling as he leans in, curls closer against him, his body warm, and he doesn't feel so cold or alone for what feels like the first time in the past year. He kisses George until he's breathless, and he shifts away slightly, catching his breath and nuzzling uncertainly against his jaw, hands still holding onto his body.

[weasleykink]

Ron pulls back finally, and he's catching his breath but he seems uncertain, almost hesitant, even though he isn't really pulling away. He doesn't know what to say to him. When it had started with Fred, they'd hardly needed words, but he feels like they definitely do here. He just wishes he had some inkling what Ron is feeling,

"I wasn't confused…" he says softly, admitting the stammered lie he'd tried to use to cover that first kiss. He loosens his grip on Ron just a bit, enough that he could move if he wanted, but he's not stopping touching him, not letting go of holding him because he feels so good in his arms. Warm and solid and alive.