Ficathon: Absolute, No Absolution (Charlie Weasley/George Weasley)
Title: Absolute, No Absolution
Pairing: Charlie Weasley/George Weasley
Rating: R for suggestion
Word Count: 653
Summary: Two brothers in mourning, a bottle of vodka and two secrets make the pond behind the Burrow a dangerous place to be.
Author's Notes: Thanks to my wonderful beta luvscharlie
. Enjoy the angst!
"You started without me." Charlie walked out onto the dock and plopped down next to George, who had an open bottle sitting between his legs.
"Mm hm." The water was cool on his feet. He conjured a tumbler and poured a fair amount into his glass. Charlie kept his eyes on the glass, watching the clear liquid splash into the tumbler; the smell hinted strongly of rubbing alcohol.
"Never would have pegged you for Muggle vodka."
There was no response.
Charlie sighed and took a quick swig of the vodka. It burned all the way down his throat, cheap, with the ability to eviscerate the soul. Charlie wondered if that was the purpose. He cringed and took a deep breath, stealing a glance at his silent partner for the night. George was staring out over the pond. He took a deep swallow without flinching. Charlie fought the urge to hit him when George refilled his empty glass and topped off Charlie's.
A hard silence fell between them, and Charlie could think of nothing else to do but drink. After his second glass and George's third, they were halfway through the bottle and the vodka was softening everything in Charlie's mind; including the silence.
"I'm gay."
Charlie cringed. Fucking Russian cunts.
"Fred and I had sex… a lot."
"Pfft!" There was vodka, cheap, burning, eviscerating vodka in his nose. Charlie sputtered and coughed, his eyes watering, his entire body flailing with madness. George didn't react, only tossed his glass into the pond with nonchalance and took a pull straight from the bottle. Charlie tried to recover, his mind reeling and his body feeling like a dragon was just birthed in his nasal passage.
"Sorry I wasn't as enthusiastic about your grand confession." Charlie nodded and took another swig of the vodka in his glass. They sat in silence again, Charlie finishing his tumbler and George taking drinks from the bottle.
"Kind of explains a lot."
"Yeah."
Charlie swayed to lean on his brother.
"Complicates things, yeah?"
"A bit. Especially with the grave stone." Charlie chuckled into George's shoulder, waiting for the punch line. "I'm not sure 'loving brother, son and twincestral lover' would really go over too well."
"No," Charlie said, turning his head into George's neck. He took a breath, his mind swimming with clarity and desire. Charlie weighed his options for about three seconds before placing sloppy kisses up George’s freckled neck. A neck that had an identical partner, a neck that only wanted to be kissed by identical lips; Charlie kept kissing, scraping his teeth and sucking whenever his lips wanted to.
"Charlie." George's voice was tired and Charlie nodded into his skin, pulling on an ear lobe. One hand tangled in George's hair, the other took his brother's unoccupied hand.
"Don't you just--" Charlie stopped and sighed. "Don't you just want to forget the pain for a bit? Not just dull it." Charlie's brave and overzealous mouth moved along George's jaw line, his tongue tracing blueprints as he went.
"Come into the pond." Charlie bit George's lower lip. "Let me take care of you. You won't ever be okay, but I can help. Let me help."
He pressed his lips against his brother's. Charlie tasted vodka, bitterness and salty tears, George's lips didn't move, but he didn't pull away, just let himself be kissed. Charlie kept pressing, his lips coaxing, brotherhood and grief open to his taking.
"Come into the pond." Charlie melted into the pond, his hands trailed down George's body. He pushed away the bottle and held both hands in his own. George was no longer looking out at the pond, but met Charlie's pleading stare. Charlie's heart clenched painfully and his cock hardened in his trousers.
"Not because I can replace him. I'd be foolish to think I could. But because I'm here, you're here."
"Yes," he said and slipped into the water. "That's the problem."
Pairing: Charlie Weasley/George Weasley
Rating: R for suggestion
Word Count: 653
Summary: Two brothers in mourning, a bottle of vodka and two secrets make the pond behind the Burrow a dangerous place to be.
Author's Notes: Thanks to my wonderful beta luvscharlie
. Enjoy the angst!
"You started without me." Charlie walked out onto the dock and plopped down next to George, who had an open bottle sitting between his legs.
"Mm hm." The water was cool on his feet. He conjured a tumbler and poured a fair amount into his glass. Charlie kept his eyes on the glass, watching the clear liquid splash into the tumbler; the smell hinted strongly of rubbing alcohol.
"Never would have pegged you for Muggle vodka."
There was no response.
Charlie sighed and took a quick swig of the vodka. It burned all the way down his throat, cheap, with the ability to eviscerate the soul. Charlie wondered if that was the purpose. He cringed and took a deep breath, stealing a glance at his silent partner for the night. George was staring out over the pond. He took a deep swallow without flinching. Charlie fought the urge to hit him when George refilled his empty glass and topped off Charlie's.
A hard silence fell between them, and Charlie could think of nothing else to do but drink. After his second glass and George's third, they were halfway through the bottle and the vodka was softening everything in Charlie's mind; including the silence.
"I'm gay."
Charlie cringed. Fucking Russian cunts.
"Fred and I had sex… a lot."
"Pfft!" There was vodka, cheap, burning, eviscerating vodka in his nose. Charlie sputtered and coughed, his eyes watering, his entire body flailing with madness. George didn't react, only tossed his glass into the pond with nonchalance and took a pull straight from the bottle. Charlie tried to recover, his mind reeling and his body feeling like a dragon was just birthed in his nasal passage.
"Sorry I wasn't as enthusiastic about your grand confession." Charlie nodded and took another swig of the vodka in his glass. They sat in silence again, Charlie finishing his tumbler and George taking drinks from the bottle.
"Kind of explains a lot."
"Yeah."
Charlie swayed to lean on his brother.
"Complicates things, yeah?"
"A bit. Especially with the grave stone." Charlie chuckled into George's shoulder, waiting for the punch line. "I'm not sure 'loving brother, son and twincestral lover' would really go over too well."
"No," Charlie said, turning his head into George's neck. He took a breath, his mind swimming with clarity and desire. Charlie weighed his options for about three seconds before placing sloppy kisses up George’s freckled neck. A neck that had an identical partner, a neck that only wanted to be kissed by identical lips; Charlie kept kissing, scraping his teeth and sucking whenever his lips wanted to.
"Charlie." George's voice was tired and Charlie nodded into his skin, pulling on an ear lobe. One hand tangled in George's hair, the other took his brother's unoccupied hand.
"Don't you just--" Charlie stopped and sighed. "Don't you just want to forget the pain for a bit? Not just dull it." Charlie's brave and overzealous mouth moved along George's jaw line, his tongue tracing blueprints as he went.
"Come into the pond." Charlie bit George's lower lip. "Let me take care of you. You won't ever be okay, but I can help. Let me help."
He pressed his lips against his brother's. Charlie tasted vodka, bitterness and salty tears, George's lips didn't move, but he didn't pull away, just let himself be kissed. Charlie kept pressing, his lips coaxing, brotherhood and grief open to his taking.
"Come into the pond." Charlie melted into the pond, his hands trailed down George's body. He pushed away the bottle and held both hands in his own. George was no longer looking out at the pond, but met Charlie's pleading stare. Charlie's heart clenched painfully and his cock hardened in his trousers.
"Not because I can replace him. I'd be foolish to think I could. But because I'm here, you're here."
"Yes," he said and slipped into the water. "That's the problem."