"Wouldn't Change It", Ron/Charlie, NC-17
Title: Wouldn’t Change It
Author: likecharity
Pairing: Ron/Charlie, with a background of Fred/George
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Incest. Sleepy drunken comfort!wanking.
Summary: After the war, the Weasley family take a camping trip to spend some quality time together. Ron, unenthusiastic at first, finds exactly what he’s been looking for all this time.
A/N: I was curious about the pairing, basically. And apparently it’s impossible for me not to include Fred/George in any of my HP fics.
“Why?” asked Ron flatly, dumping his bag on the grass outside one of the tents. “Why camping?”
He wasn’t really speaking to anybody in particular, but Bill appeared from somewhere behind him, ruffled his hair, and answered, “Because Mum wants the whole family to be together, after everything.” He lowered his voice and added, “So don’t ruin it by complaining the whole time.”
Ron frowned. “I just don’t see why we can’t all be together inside. You know, in a warm house, with proper food and beds,” he grumbled.
He knew that wizarding tents were almost as good as actual houses, but even so, nothing changed the fact that they were still fundamentally sleeping outside, and the new tents that Arthur had bought left quite a bit to be desired.
“It could be worse,” Ginny muttered darkly in his ear. “Phlegm could be here.”
“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that, Gin,” Bill said sternly, then unzipped the tent in front of them and crawled inside. “Not as big as the old one, Dad, is that why we’ve got two?”
Ron didn’t hear the answer, as the entrance to the tent flapped shut over Bill’s rear end. His eldest brother wriggled out of view and Ron sighed, getting down on his hands and knees to follow him.
Ten minutes later the whole family was inside the first tent, and already Ron was not the only one to be complaining.
“All of us Weasleys together, eh?” grinned Arthur, slinging his arm around Bill. “I can’t even tell you how happy I am right now.”
“I still don’t see why I couldn’t bring Harry,” Ginny mumbled. “He’s practically a Weasley. He’s an honorary one, Ron said so.”
“Ginny, Bill couldn’t bring Fleur and she is a Weasley now,” said Charlie. “There’s no use getting all upset about it. It’s nice for it to just be the nine of us.”
“I guess,” spoke up George from the corner of the room, where he and Fred were sitting squashed close together in one armchair. “It’s just, Fred and I really wanted to be able to bring our girlfriend.”
“S,” hissed Fred urgently. “Sss. Our girlfriends. Plural.”
“Of course,” George agreed quickly. “It’s not as though we share.”
“Not at all.”
“That’d be…odd.”
The family exchanged various concerned and/or amused expressions.
“Look,” said Molly, choosing not to continue such a topic of conversation, “I just thought it would be nice for us all to be together as a family, after all we’ve been through. I wanted it to be like when you were all younger, when we took you camping-”
“We were smaller, then, too,” interrupted Fred.
“You really should upgrade to a better tent, you know, Dad,” agreed George.
“And Arthur and I are very thankful to Harry, of course, Ginny, for everything,” Molly went on, raising her voice and ignoring the twins, “But Ron tells us Harry’s perfectly happy staying with Hermione, and I don’t think there’s any need to keep mentioning him. Or her. Either of them.”
She shot Ginny a meaningful look that Ron certainly did not miss, and went on.
“Now, I’d like us all to have a good time. It’s been quite a while since we’ve all been together. All of us.”
Percy, sitting cross-legged on the floor by the entrance of the tent, straightened his glasses and looked away awkwardly. He’d come back to them after the war, but had not seen everyone a great deal yet. Though he had apologized - given a short speech, even, with index cards and everything - some of the family were still finding it a little uncomfortable having him around.
“Now,” said Arthur quickly. “I think it’s best we decide on the sleeping arrangements sooner rather than later, is that right? Your mother and I will be sleeping in the double bed in here, but there’s also a double bed in the other tent, so-”
He stopped as Fred and George’s hands shot up. He hesitated, then exchanged a look with Molly, and continued.
“I was thinking perhaps it was time Ron shared with somebody,” he said. “You two are always having to share, Ron tends to get to sleep on his own a lot. You can have the camp beds in the other tent.”
Ron scowled. He had just been looking at the single bed, hoping it would be his for the next couple of nights. He knew that the camp beds Fred and George had just been assigned to were ones the family had owned for years, and were pretty much only held together by some very questionable magical glue, but the other bed was newer and looked extremely comfortable.
“Bill and I could share,” spoke up Charlie. “If Ron wants his own bed.”
“Are you kidding?” laughed Bill. “If I have a choice, I’m not going to put up with your thrashing around again. I think I still have scars from the last time we shared a bed.”
“You and Ginny in the bunk beds, then,” Molly decided. “And that leaves-”
Ron did some quick calculations in his head. “I’ll share with Charlie, Mum, it’s okay,” he said. “I don’t mind sharing.”
There was a brief silence that felt as though it lasted several minutes. Ron glanced at Charlie, who was fidgeting with the tassels on the rug with his head down.
Percy stood up, grabbed his backpack, and trudged across the room towards the single bed. Silently, he opened the bag and began sorting out his things. The rest of the family watched awkwardly until Bill broke the silence by getting to his feet and scooping Ginny into his arms.
“Bunk bed for us, then!” he said, grinning, and carried her squealing to the bed, tossing her effortlessly over the side so that she was lying on the top bunk.
“So I brought all my stuff in here for nothing?” Ron asked bitterly, gesturing to his backpack.
“C’mon Ron,” said Fred, and he and George leapt up from the armchair. “Let’s get settled in to our new home!”
The three of them crawled out of the tent, followed by Charlie, to set up their beds.
“D’you have a preference?” asked Charlie when the double bed had been made up. He waved his arm over it. “Which side?”
“Oh, I don’t mind,” sighed Ron, shrugging. “Whichever.”
Charlie kept his eyes on his youngest brother for a moment, concerned. Ron was chewing his lip, and meticulously picking each pair of socks from his backpack and placing them in a drawer.
“You OK, Ron?”
“What? Fine.”
Charlie looked at him doubtfully, but Ron didn’t even look up.
“Don’t mind us!” came a sudden, cheerful yell from the other side of the tent. Though the tents were furnished to look like rooms in a house, the walls were still only made of cloth, and it was hard to get much privacy.
“Just setting up our beds!” a second voice added.
“S,” the first voice hissed. “Beds.”
“That’s what I said, you prat,” whispered the second voice, and some muted arguing followed on the other side of the curtain that split the tent in half.
Charlie looked to Ron again, raising his eyebrows, but Ron was still not looking at him. He sighed. “Want to go back over? Mum will have started cooking tea by now.”
* * *
One Sunday roast, two apple pies, three failed board games and four and a half bottles of elderflower wine later, the larger tent was littered with nine very tired, very full Weasleys.
“What time is it?” asked Bill, who was slumped across the sofa with a wine glass in his hand.
“I’d tell you,” said Fred, “But I can’t be bothered looking at my watch.”
Fred was draped across George, and they were both half-sitting, half-lying on the floor by the armchair. George raised his head with what seemed to be a tremendous effort, and lifted up Fred’s limp arm, which was thrown across his chest.
“Eleven fourteen,” he said, and flopped back against the chair again.
“We really all ought to get to bed,” Arthur said half-heartedly.
“Can’t I have one more glass of wine before we do?” piped up Ron. He was in the kitchen area, putting away the last of the clean plates. “You only let me have a couple, and I’m nearly old enough-”
“No, no, you’re still too young,” sighed Molly. “A couple is enough.”
“More than enough judging by the fact that he can’t even stand up,” teased George, laughing, as Ron stumbled into the living room.
“I’d actually give you a galleon to stand up right now,” Ron retorted, eyeing the position the twins were in.
George raised his head again, leaned forward slightly, attempted to lift his hips, and then fell back against the armchair. “Can’t,” he said simply. “Fred’s in the way.”
Percy suddenly put down the newspaper he was reading with a ‘thwack’, and placed his half-empty wine glass on top of it. He stood up. “Well, I’m going to bed,” he announced.
“Night, Percy,” replied both parents and a few siblings.
Bill and Ginny were next, Ginny insisting she would not move at all unless Bill carried her there again. There was some argument over this, because Bill refused to carry Ginny all the way to the sink for her to brush her teeth before she went to bed, and Ginny refused to go to bed without brushing her teeth at all. By the time it got sorted out, Fred and George had disappeared.
“Must’ve gone to bed already,” Arthur shrugged, and the two of them bid Ron and Charlie goodnight, and went off to the bathroom.
“I guess that’s us, then,” said Charlie, getting up and unzipping the tent door.
“Help me up,” Ron groaned.
Charlie hesitated, then rolled his eyes and crossed the room again to grasp his brother’s hands and help him to his feet.
Once they were outside, they noticed two familiar shapes sitting in the grass in the distance.
“That Fred and George?” asked Ron.
“I think so. What are they doing outside though? Ah well, I’ll go out and yell at them if they don’t come back in soon,” Charlie said as they climbed inside the tent. “Hey. Their beds are pushed together,” he added when he switched on the lamp.
Ron didn’t reply, and there was an awkward sort of silence as they crossed the room towards the curtain.
Once in their section of the tent, Ron threw himself down onto the bed.
“What do you think’s up with them?” Charlie continued, feeling as though he had to keep the conversation going. “The twins, I mean. They seem…closer than before. I mean they’ve always been close, but…” he trailed off.
“I’d rather not think about it, to be honest,” was Ron’s muffled reply. He had his face in the duvet.
“What? Oh, yeah, right,” Charlie said distractedly, nodding. “I know. Yeah.”
He went over to his backpack and started to root through it. Ron looked up when he heard a ‘clink’.
“What’s that?” he asked, seeing Charlie holding something up. Charlie turned it around and stepped closer. “Firewhisky?”
Charlie grinned. “There’s only a little left, I was going to have it with Bill because I assumed we’d be sharing a bed. But you can drink it legally now, and it may as well not go to waste.”
“Charlie, that’s fantastic!” Ron cried, sitting up now.
“You suddenly don’t seem so tired anymore,” teased Charlie, kicking off his shoes and settling down on the bed. He unscrewed the bottle and took a swig.
“I wasn’t tired, I was just relaxed,” said Ron, taking the bottle from Charlie. He copied his brother, coughed and spluttered a little, and then handed the bottle back.
“Well, I’m glad,” Charlie replied. He propped himself up against the headboard with a few cushions. “You seemed pretty miserable before. Are you doing okay?”
Ron frowned at him. Ordinarily he would not have had to think about a response, it would’ve been “I’m fine” like it had been to everybody who had asked him such a question for the last few months. But the alcohol was warming his body and making him feel comfortable and open, and he wanted, for once, to really say how he felt.
“It’s Harry and Hermione,” he blurted out. “I thought…I thought Hermione and I were going to get together. We kissed, you know. Before we went off to fight. She told me she loved me, even.”
Charlie nodded encouragingly.
Ron sighed, took another swig of firewhisky, and continued. “But now the war’s over, everything’s just…changed. I mean, we were fine - the three of us - right afterwards, celebrating and everything, and I thought it was all was going to be all right. But she never talks to me anymore. And she spends all this time with Harry, and I know it’s stupid to care, because there isn’t anything between them and Harry’s with Ginny, but…”
He began picking at the corner of the label on the bottle of Firewhisky, trying to find the right words.
“I guess it’s just hard. I get jealous of Harry sometimes. A lot of the time, actually,” he said, and then waved his arm when he saw Charlie open his mouth. “And I know that’s to be expected, before you say anything. But it doesn’t make it any easier. And then…then sometimes…”
His voice was getting quieter and quieter, and Charlie had to lean closer to hear him.
“Sometimes I get jealous of her. And of Ginny. And I don’t know…I don’t know what - I don’t know what it is I want,” he mumbled. “I’m just so confused.”
“It’s okay to be confused, Ron,” Charlie said soothingly, and Ron realised then just how close the two of them were sitting. He looked up at his brother, uncertain, and Charlie rubbed his shoulder reassuringly. “I’m still confused, and I’m twenty-four! And Mum’s always asking when I’m going to bring home a nice girl for her to meet…”
“What do you mean?” Ron asked, confused.
Charlie took the bottle of firewhisky out of his brother’s hands and placed it on the bedside table. “You know that means you’re sexually frustrated,” he joked. “If you peel the labels off of things.”
Ron laughed. “But what did you mean?”
Charlie smiled, then took a deep breath and said, “I think I’m gay, Ron.”
“Oh,” said Ron simply. He glanced up again, and realised suddenly that his brother’s face was very close to his own. There was something uncomfortable about it, yet strangely it was comforting at the same time. He found his eyes being inexplicably drawn to Charlie’s lips - soft, slightly parted - and then “Oh,” and the lips were pressed against his own.
In a rush, his memories of Harry and Hermione and school and the war were gone. He remembered seeing the Burrow through a five year old’s eyes, sitting on Charlie’s lap, Charlie reading to him. He remembered Charlie fetching things for him from the higher kitchen cabinets when he was too small to reach. He remembered Bill and Charlie teaching him about Quidditch. He remembered going crying to Charlie when he’d fallen over and grazed his knees. Feelings he had not felt for so long flooded back into his body - the admiration he had always had for his two eldest brothers, the fact that with Bill, such admiration was tainted with envy, and with Charlie everything was always a little bit different in a way he never understood.
“Charlie-” he gasped, breathless, when his brother moved away.
“I’m sorry,” Charlie whispered. “I’m so sorry. I couldn’t, I - I don’t know what I was thinking.”
Charlie stared furiously at the bed sheets, and Ron dipped his head to try and catch his brother’s eye. Charlie glanced up, and their eyes fixed on each other.
“Charlie,” Ron gasped again, and brought his brother’s lips back to his own desperately.
“This,” - he kissed Charlie again - “This is it, this is what I want.”
Charlie smiled helplessly at him. “Me, too,” he admitted. “For a long time now.”
Ron stared at him. “Really?”
“Really. But if you don’t feel the same way, then-”
“I feel the same way,” Ron interrupted. “Right now. Right now I do.”
Charlie shuffled back on the bed, rubbing his temples. “Oh Ron, no, no,” he sighed. “Oh, you’re just drunk. Hell, I’m drunk. No…”
“Yes. Yes. Please,” Ron begged, crawling over to his brother and planting kisses over his neck and shoulder. His lips travelled over Charlie’s jawbone and Charlie found himself turning his head automatically towards Ron. Their lips met again, and as Ron let out a sort of whimpering sound, Charlie found he was hard almost instantly.
“Please,” Ron went on, pulling off Charlie’s t-shirt. “I need this. Please.”
Charlie did not respond, but he reached for the waist of Ron’s corduroys - hand-me-downs, ones that used to be his own - and began to fiddle with the buttons.
“Sorry,” Ron muttered. “They’re-”
He didn’t finish his sentence because at that moment Charlie got them undone and his boxers pushed out of the way, and Ron felt his brother’s large, strong hand wrap around his cock.
“Oh God!” he gasped, bucking his hips forward. He leaned in to Charlie’s shoulder, kissing his collarbone and sucking gently along it, trying to get himself to keep quiet.
Charlie tightened his grip, and Ron felt the rough heat of his brother’s palm curled around his cock. He thrust upwards into the hand, wanting friction, wanting movement, and Charlie chuckled softly and began to stroke, slowly at first and then faster, tighter, and Ron was breathless, almost panting with need.
His face was hot against Charlie’s shoulder, and he knew he must have been blushing. Growing up with so many brothers, they’d all seen his cock before, but never like this, and he found himself wondering about Charlie’s, wondering if Charlie was expecting anything in return and he reached down between his brother’s legs and oh God -
“You don’t have to,” Charlie whispered hoarsely, but Ron was already undoing the zip, and then Ron felt the hand moving faster and the tip of a callused thumb rub over the head of his cock. He groaned, twisting his head to Charlie’s sweaty neck, and then his hand found Charlie’s cock underneath the denim - no underwear - and he grasped it at the base, feeling the coarse red hair brush against his fingers. Charlie’s cock was thicker than his, but not as long, and it was just bizarre to hold somebody else’s, but suddenly he was thankful it was Charlie’s.
He tried to mimic Charlie’s movements, bringing his hand up and down, but it was dry and difficult. He brushed his thumb over the moisture welling at the cock’s tip, feeling Charlie’s body jerk forwards. He stroked Charlie’s cock the way he stroked his own, and he heard a kind of growling sound in his ear which he took to be a good sign.
Charlie’s hand was slick, sliding up and down Ron’s cock, and Ron felt himself starting to tremble, lights bursting behind his eyes. He groaned, his head slipping off Charlie’s shoulder and he felt himself grabbing at the sheets on the bed, the first waves of orgasm seeming to last forever. At last, with a push of his hips and a shudder, he came over Charlie’s hand.
Breathless, he tried as hard as he could to keep rubbing Charlie’s cock, but he was feeling dizzy. He tugged urgently, and reached down with his other hand, cupping his brother’s balls, teasing them gently with his fingers. Charlie sucked in a sharp breath and suddenly Ron felt hot come splashing over his hands.
They stayed still for a moment, out of breath, rocking against each other as Charlie rode out his orgasm. He made a little noise, then sat up and fumbled on the bedside table for his wand. It wasn’t there, and he leaned over the bed, the waistband of his still-open jeans sliding down over his arse.
Ron laughed, reaching out to prod his brother’s lower back, and Charlie straightened up like a shot, the wand in his hand. He cast a Cleansing Charm over them both, and then, without speaking, they got ready for bed.
Once settled under the covers, Ron turned to Charlie and said worriedly, “You don’t regret it, do you?”
Charlie grinned. “Course not,” he said, reaching over to run his fingers over Ron’s cheek. “I really needed that.”
Ron went pink. “So did I,” he replied, and then on impulse, raised himself up to kiss his brother. Charlie found himself relaxing into the kiss, wrapping his arms around Ron and shuffling closer to him under the covers.
The sound of a zip being pulled brought them back to reality. They heard the twins stumbling into the tent and zipping it back up.
“I forgot about them,” Ron whispered, obviously disappointed by the interruption.
“It’s just us!” one called, and Ron and Charlie straightened up in bed. The lamp on the other side of the curtain was still on, and they could see the vague silhouettes of the twins as they undressed for bed.
“We’re just - don’t get up!” came a slurred voice from one of the shadows, which was hopping around trying to pull off its jeans. “We’re just going to bed!”
“Sss!” the other twin whispered frantically.
“’We’re just going to beds’? That doesn’t even make sense, Gred,” the first twin replied.
“Shut up, Forge,” hissed the other one, stepping closer to his twin.
“You shut up.”
Ron and Charlie watched in amazement as the two silhouettes became one against the soft red glow of light. The shadows broke apart, and giggled, shushing each other, before kissing again.
“I’m surprised that I’m not surprised,” Charlie muttered in Ron’s ear.
“I suppose we don’t have to wonder about them anymore,” was Ron’s reply, and then, after a moment, he added, “Charlie…is there something very, very wrong with this family?”
Charlie considered this, looking from his younger brother’s pale, questioning face to the twin silhouettes wrapped around each other as they tumbled into bed.
“Maybe,” he said softly, honestly, letting Ron curl up in his arms. “But I wouldn’t change it for the world.”
Author: likecharity
Pairing: Ron/Charlie, with a background of Fred/George
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Incest. Sleepy drunken comfort!wanking.
Summary: After the war, the Weasley family take a camping trip to spend some quality time together. Ron, unenthusiastic at first, finds exactly what he’s been looking for all this time.
A/N: I was curious about the pairing, basically. And apparently it’s impossible for me not to include Fred/George in any of my HP fics.
“Why?” asked Ron flatly, dumping his bag on the grass outside one of the tents. “Why camping?”
He wasn’t really speaking to anybody in particular, but Bill appeared from somewhere behind him, ruffled his hair, and answered, “Because Mum wants the whole family to be together, after everything.” He lowered his voice and added, “So don’t ruin it by complaining the whole time.”
Ron frowned. “I just don’t see why we can’t all be together inside. You know, in a warm house, with proper food and beds,” he grumbled.
He knew that wizarding tents were almost as good as actual houses, but even so, nothing changed the fact that they were still fundamentally sleeping outside, and the new tents that Arthur had bought left quite a bit to be desired.
“It could be worse,” Ginny muttered darkly in his ear. “Phlegm could be here.”
“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that, Gin,” Bill said sternly, then unzipped the tent in front of them and crawled inside. “Not as big as the old one, Dad, is that why we’ve got two?”
Ron didn’t hear the answer, as the entrance to the tent flapped shut over Bill’s rear end. His eldest brother wriggled out of view and Ron sighed, getting down on his hands and knees to follow him.
Ten minutes later the whole family was inside the first tent, and already Ron was not the only one to be complaining.
“All of us Weasleys together, eh?” grinned Arthur, slinging his arm around Bill. “I can’t even tell you how happy I am right now.”
“I still don’t see why I couldn’t bring Harry,” Ginny mumbled. “He’s practically a Weasley. He’s an honorary one, Ron said so.”
“Ginny, Bill couldn’t bring Fleur and she is a Weasley now,” said Charlie. “There’s no use getting all upset about it. It’s nice for it to just be the nine of us.”
“I guess,” spoke up George from the corner of the room, where he and Fred were sitting squashed close together in one armchair. “It’s just, Fred and I really wanted to be able to bring our girlfriend.”
“S,” hissed Fred urgently. “Sss. Our girlfriends. Plural.”
“Of course,” George agreed quickly. “It’s not as though we share.”
“Not at all.”
“That’d be…odd.”
The family exchanged various concerned and/or amused expressions.
“Look,” said Molly, choosing not to continue such a topic of conversation, “I just thought it would be nice for us all to be together as a family, after all we’ve been through. I wanted it to be like when you were all younger, when we took you camping-”
“We were smaller, then, too,” interrupted Fred.
“You really should upgrade to a better tent, you know, Dad,” agreed George.
“And Arthur and I are very thankful to Harry, of course, Ginny, for everything,” Molly went on, raising her voice and ignoring the twins, “But Ron tells us Harry’s perfectly happy staying with Hermione, and I don’t think there’s any need to keep mentioning him. Or her. Either of them.”
She shot Ginny a meaningful look that Ron certainly did not miss, and went on.
“Now, I’d like us all to have a good time. It’s been quite a while since we’ve all been together. All of us.”
Percy, sitting cross-legged on the floor by the entrance of the tent, straightened his glasses and looked away awkwardly. He’d come back to them after the war, but had not seen everyone a great deal yet. Though he had apologized - given a short speech, even, with index cards and everything - some of the family were still finding it a little uncomfortable having him around.
“Now,” said Arthur quickly. “I think it’s best we decide on the sleeping arrangements sooner rather than later, is that right? Your mother and I will be sleeping in the double bed in here, but there’s also a double bed in the other tent, so-”
He stopped as Fred and George’s hands shot up. He hesitated, then exchanged a look with Molly, and continued.
“I was thinking perhaps it was time Ron shared with somebody,” he said. “You two are always having to share, Ron tends to get to sleep on his own a lot. You can have the camp beds in the other tent.”
Ron scowled. He had just been looking at the single bed, hoping it would be his for the next couple of nights. He knew that the camp beds Fred and George had just been assigned to were ones the family had owned for years, and were pretty much only held together by some very questionable magical glue, but the other bed was newer and looked extremely comfortable.
“Bill and I could share,” spoke up Charlie. “If Ron wants his own bed.”
“Are you kidding?” laughed Bill. “If I have a choice, I’m not going to put up with your thrashing around again. I think I still have scars from the last time we shared a bed.”
“You and Ginny in the bunk beds, then,” Molly decided. “And that leaves-”
Ron did some quick calculations in his head. “I’ll share with Charlie, Mum, it’s okay,” he said. “I don’t mind sharing.”
There was a brief silence that felt as though it lasted several minutes. Ron glanced at Charlie, who was fidgeting with the tassels on the rug with his head down.
Percy stood up, grabbed his backpack, and trudged across the room towards the single bed. Silently, he opened the bag and began sorting out his things. The rest of the family watched awkwardly until Bill broke the silence by getting to his feet and scooping Ginny into his arms.
“Bunk bed for us, then!” he said, grinning, and carried her squealing to the bed, tossing her effortlessly over the side so that she was lying on the top bunk.
“So I brought all my stuff in here for nothing?” Ron asked bitterly, gesturing to his backpack.
“C’mon Ron,” said Fred, and he and George leapt up from the armchair. “Let’s get settled in to our new home!”
The three of them crawled out of the tent, followed by Charlie, to set up their beds.
“D’you have a preference?” asked Charlie when the double bed had been made up. He waved his arm over it. “Which side?”
“Oh, I don’t mind,” sighed Ron, shrugging. “Whichever.”
Charlie kept his eyes on his youngest brother for a moment, concerned. Ron was chewing his lip, and meticulously picking each pair of socks from his backpack and placing them in a drawer.
“You OK, Ron?”
“What? Fine.”
Charlie looked at him doubtfully, but Ron didn’t even look up.
“Don’t mind us!” came a sudden, cheerful yell from the other side of the tent. Though the tents were furnished to look like rooms in a house, the walls were still only made of cloth, and it was hard to get much privacy.
“Just setting up our beds!” a second voice added.
“S,” the first voice hissed. “Beds.”
“That’s what I said, you prat,” whispered the second voice, and some muted arguing followed on the other side of the curtain that split the tent in half.
Charlie looked to Ron again, raising his eyebrows, but Ron was still not looking at him. He sighed. “Want to go back over? Mum will have started cooking tea by now.”
* * *
One Sunday roast, two apple pies, three failed board games and four and a half bottles of elderflower wine later, the larger tent was littered with nine very tired, very full Weasleys.
“What time is it?” asked Bill, who was slumped across the sofa with a wine glass in his hand.
“I’d tell you,” said Fred, “But I can’t be bothered looking at my watch.”
Fred was draped across George, and they were both half-sitting, half-lying on the floor by the armchair. George raised his head with what seemed to be a tremendous effort, and lifted up Fred’s limp arm, which was thrown across his chest.
“Eleven fourteen,” he said, and flopped back against the chair again.
“We really all ought to get to bed,” Arthur said half-heartedly.
“Can’t I have one more glass of wine before we do?” piped up Ron. He was in the kitchen area, putting away the last of the clean plates. “You only let me have a couple, and I’m nearly old enough-”
“No, no, you’re still too young,” sighed Molly. “A couple is enough.”
“More than enough judging by the fact that he can’t even stand up,” teased George, laughing, as Ron stumbled into the living room.
“I’d actually give you a galleon to stand up right now,” Ron retorted, eyeing the position the twins were in.
George raised his head again, leaned forward slightly, attempted to lift his hips, and then fell back against the armchair. “Can’t,” he said simply. “Fred’s in the way.”
Percy suddenly put down the newspaper he was reading with a ‘thwack’, and placed his half-empty wine glass on top of it. He stood up. “Well, I’m going to bed,” he announced.
“Night, Percy,” replied both parents and a few siblings.
Bill and Ginny were next, Ginny insisting she would not move at all unless Bill carried her there again. There was some argument over this, because Bill refused to carry Ginny all the way to the sink for her to brush her teeth before she went to bed, and Ginny refused to go to bed without brushing her teeth at all. By the time it got sorted out, Fred and George had disappeared.
“Must’ve gone to bed already,” Arthur shrugged, and the two of them bid Ron and Charlie goodnight, and went off to the bathroom.
“I guess that’s us, then,” said Charlie, getting up and unzipping the tent door.
“Help me up,” Ron groaned.
Charlie hesitated, then rolled his eyes and crossed the room again to grasp his brother’s hands and help him to his feet.
Once they were outside, they noticed two familiar shapes sitting in the grass in the distance.
“That Fred and George?” asked Ron.
“I think so. What are they doing outside though? Ah well, I’ll go out and yell at them if they don’t come back in soon,” Charlie said as they climbed inside the tent. “Hey. Their beds are pushed together,” he added when he switched on the lamp.
Ron didn’t reply, and there was an awkward sort of silence as they crossed the room towards the curtain.
Once in their section of the tent, Ron threw himself down onto the bed.
“What do you think’s up with them?” Charlie continued, feeling as though he had to keep the conversation going. “The twins, I mean. They seem…closer than before. I mean they’ve always been close, but…” he trailed off.
“I’d rather not think about it, to be honest,” was Ron’s muffled reply. He had his face in the duvet.
“What? Oh, yeah, right,” Charlie said distractedly, nodding. “I know. Yeah.”
He went over to his backpack and started to root through it. Ron looked up when he heard a ‘clink’.
“What’s that?” he asked, seeing Charlie holding something up. Charlie turned it around and stepped closer. “Firewhisky?”
Charlie grinned. “There’s only a little left, I was going to have it with Bill because I assumed we’d be sharing a bed. But you can drink it legally now, and it may as well not go to waste.”
“Charlie, that’s fantastic!” Ron cried, sitting up now.
“You suddenly don’t seem so tired anymore,” teased Charlie, kicking off his shoes and settling down on the bed. He unscrewed the bottle and took a swig.
“I wasn’t tired, I was just relaxed,” said Ron, taking the bottle from Charlie. He copied his brother, coughed and spluttered a little, and then handed the bottle back.
“Well, I’m glad,” Charlie replied. He propped himself up against the headboard with a few cushions. “You seemed pretty miserable before. Are you doing okay?”
Ron frowned at him. Ordinarily he would not have had to think about a response, it would’ve been “I’m fine” like it had been to everybody who had asked him such a question for the last few months. But the alcohol was warming his body and making him feel comfortable and open, and he wanted, for once, to really say how he felt.
“It’s Harry and Hermione,” he blurted out. “I thought…I thought Hermione and I were going to get together. We kissed, you know. Before we went off to fight. She told me she loved me, even.”
Charlie nodded encouragingly.
Ron sighed, took another swig of firewhisky, and continued. “But now the war’s over, everything’s just…changed. I mean, we were fine - the three of us - right afterwards, celebrating and everything, and I thought it was all was going to be all right. But she never talks to me anymore. And she spends all this time with Harry, and I know it’s stupid to care, because there isn’t anything between them and Harry’s with Ginny, but…”
He began picking at the corner of the label on the bottle of Firewhisky, trying to find the right words.
“I guess it’s just hard. I get jealous of Harry sometimes. A lot of the time, actually,” he said, and then waved his arm when he saw Charlie open his mouth. “And I know that’s to be expected, before you say anything. But it doesn’t make it any easier. And then…then sometimes…”
His voice was getting quieter and quieter, and Charlie had to lean closer to hear him.
“Sometimes I get jealous of her. And of Ginny. And I don’t know…I don’t know what - I don’t know what it is I want,” he mumbled. “I’m just so confused.”
“It’s okay to be confused, Ron,” Charlie said soothingly, and Ron realised then just how close the two of them were sitting. He looked up at his brother, uncertain, and Charlie rubbed his shoulder reassuringly. “I’m still confused, and I’m twenty-four! And Mum’s always asking when I’m going to bring home a nice girl for her to meet…”
“What do you mean?” Ron asked, confused.
Charlie took the bottle of firewhisky out of his brother’s hands and placed it on the bedside table. “You know that means you’re sexually frustrated,” he joked. “If you peel the labels off of things.”
Ron laughed. “But what did you mean?”
Charlie smiled, then took a deep breath and said, “I think I’m gay, Ron.”
“Oh,” said Ron simply. He glanced up again, and realised suddenly that his brother’s face was very close to his own. There was something uncomfortable about it, yet strangely it was comforting at the same time. He found his eyes being inexplicably drawn to Charlie’s lips - soft, slightly parted - and then “Oh,” and the lips were pressed against his own.
In a rush, his memories of Harry and Hermione and school and the war were gone. He remembered seeing the Burrow through a five year old’s eyes, sitting on Charlie’s lap, Charlie reading to him. He remembered Charlie fetching things for him from the higher kitchen cabinets when he was too small to reach. He remembered Bill and Charlie teaching him about Quidditch. He remembered going crying to Charlie when he’d fallen over and grazed his knees. Feelings he had not felt for so long flooded back into his body - the admiration he had always had for his two eldest brothers, the fact that with Bill, such admiration was tainted with envy, and with Charlie everything was always a little bit different in a way he never understood.
“Charlie-” he gasped, breathless, when his brother moved away.
“I’m sorry,” Charlie whispered. “I’m so sorry. I couldn’t, I - I don’t know what I was thinking.”
Charlie stared furiously at the bed sheets, and Ron dipped his head to try and catch his brother’s eye. Charlie glanced up, and their eyes fixed on each other.
“Charlie,” Ron gasped again, and brought his brother’s lips back to his own desperately.
“This,” - he kissed Charlie again - “This is it, this is what I want.”
Charlie smiled helplessly at him. “Me, too,” he admitted. “For a long time now.”
Ron stared at him. “Really?”
“Really. But if you don’t feel the same way, then-”
“I feel the same way,” Ron interrupted. “Right now. Right now I do.”
Charlie shuffled back on the bed, rubbing his temples. “Oh Ron, no, no,” he sighed. “Oh, you’re just drunk. Hell, I’m drunk. No…”
“Yes. Yes. Please,” Ron begged, crawling over to his brother and planting kisses over his neck and shoulder. His lips travelled over Charlie’s jawbone and Charlie found himself turning his head automatically towards Ron. Their lips met again, and as Ron let out a sort of whimpering sound, Charlie found he was hard almost instantly.
“Please,” Ron went on, pulling off Charlie’s t-shirt. “I need this. Please.”
Charlie did not respond, but he reached for the waist of Ron’s corduroys - hand-me-downs, ones that used to be his own - and began to fiddle with the buttons.
“Sorry,” Ron muttered. “They’re-”
He didn’t finish his sentence because at that moment Charlie got them undone and his boxers pushed out of the way, and Ron felt his brother’s large, strong hand wrap around his cock.
“Oh God!” he gasped, bucking his hips forward. He leaned in to Charlie’s shoulder, kissing his collarbone and sucking gently along it, trying to get himself to keep quiet.
Charlie tightened his grip, and Ron felt the rough heat of his brother’s palm curled around his cock. He thrust upwards into the hand, wanting friction, wanting movement, and Charlie chuckled softly and began to stroke, slowly at first and then faster, tighter, and Ron was breathless, almost panting with need.
His face was hot against Charlie’s shoulder, and he knew he must have been blushing. Growing up with so many brothers, they’d all seen his cock before, but never like this, and he found himself wondering about Charlie’s, wondering if Charlie was expecting anything in return and he reached down between his brother’s legs and oh God -
“You don’t have to,” Charlie whispered hoarsely, but Ron was already undoing the zip, and then Ron felt the hand moving faster and the tip of a callused thumb rub over the head of his cock. He groaned, twisting his head to Charlie’s sweaty neck, and then his hand found Charlie’s cock underneath the denim - no underwear - and he grasped it at the base, feeling the coarse red hair brush against his fingers. Charlie’s cock was thicker than his, but not as long, and it was just bizarre to hold somebody else’s, but suddenly he was thankful it was Charlie’s.
He tried to mimic Charlie’s movements, bringing his hand up and down, but it was dry and difficult. He brushed his thumb over the moisture welling at the cock’s tip, feeling Charlie’s body jerk forwards. He stroked Charlie’s cock the way he stroked his own, and he heard a kind of growling sound in his ear which he took to be a good sign.
Charlie’s hand was slick, sliding up and down Ron’s cock, and Ron felt himself starting to tremble, lights bursting behind his eyes. He groaned, his head slipping off Charlie’s shoulder and he felt himself grabbing at the sheets on the bed, the first waves of orgasm seeming to last forever. At last, with a push of his hips and a shudder, he came over Charlie’s hand.
Breathless, he tried as hard as he could to keep rubbing Charlie’s cock, but he was feeling dizzy. He tugged urgently, and reached down with his other hand, cupping his brother’s balls, teasing them gently with his fingers. Charlie sucked in a sharp breath and suddenly Ron felt hot come splashing over his hands.
They stayed still for a moment, out of breath, rocking against each other as Charlie rode out his orgasm. He made a little noise, then sat up and fumbled on the bedside table for his wand. It wasn’t there, and he leaned over the bed, the waistband of his still-open jeans sliding down over his arse.
Ron laughed, reaching out to prod his brother’s lower back, and Charlie straightened up like a shot, the wand in his hand. He cast a Cleansing Charm over them both, and then, without speaking, they got ready for bed.
Once settled under the covers, Ron turned to Charlie and said worriedly, “You don’t regret it, do you?”
Charlie grinned. “Course not,” he said, reaching over to run his fingers over Ron’s cheek. “I really needed that.”
Ron went pink. “So did I,” he replied, and then on impulse, raised himself up to kiss his brother. Charlie found himself relaxing into the kiss, wrapping his arms around Ron and shuffling closer to him under the covers.
The sound of a zip being pulled brought them back to reality. They heard the twins stumbling into the tent and zipping it back up.
“I forgot about them,” Ron whispered, obviously disappointed by the interruption.
“It’s just us!” one called, and Ron and Charlie straightened up in bed. The lamp on the other side of the curtain was still on, and they could see the vague silhouettes of the twins as they undressed for bed.
“We’re just - don’t get up!” came a slurred voice from one of the shadows, which was hopping around trying to pull off its jeans. “We’re just going to bed!”
“Sss!” the other twin whispered frantically.
“’We’re just going to beds’? That doesn’t even make sense, Gred,” the first twin replied.
“Shut up, Forge,” hissed the other one, stepping closer to his twin.
“You shut up.”
Ron and Charlie watched in amazement as the two silhouettes became one against the soft red glow of light. The shadows broke apart, and giggled, shushing each other, before kissing again.
“I’m surprised that I’m not surprised,” Charlie muttered in Ron’s ear.
“I suppose we don’t have to wonder about them anymore,” was Ron’s reply, and then, after a moment, he added, “Charlie…is there something very, very wrong with this family?”
Charlie considered this, looking from his younger brother’s pale, questioning face to the twin silhouettes wrapped around each other as they tumbled into bed.
“Maybe,” he said softly, honestly, letting Ron curl up in his arms. “But I wouldn’t change it for the world.”