Close the Windows and Lock the Doors by Luvscharlie
Author's Notes/Warnings:oral, semi-public sex (sort of), the traumatising of small children, though I think Uncle Marc got the worst end of it. Also, Charlie is adorable, so beware his cuteness. Originally written for the 2011 fest at hp_humpdrabbles on Live Journal for the pairing Molly/Arthur for a quickie in the kitchen with powdered sugar.
When Arthur entered through the back doorway, he did so with his usual booming, "Daddy's home!" Then, he braced himself for the customary herd of little boys throwing themselves at his legs. He was taken a bit off guard when he remained standing, sans chubby bodies carried about on short little legs hurling themselves at him in adoration.
It should have hit him instantly how quiet his normally bustling, chaotic house was. However, what hit him was Molly's oven mitt when she launched it at his head. It bounced off his forehead and fell to the floor. "Shush!" she hissed. "I swear, Arthur Weasley, if you wake the little beasts I'll skin you where you stand." She stood at the counter rolling out dough for what appeared to be donuts. Her hair was escaping from where it had been pinned up, and sweaty, frizzy curls framed her face.
"Which of our boys are you considering giving away, darling?"
"Giving away?" Molly scoffed. "You say that as if someone would take the little demons. I swear, Arthur, your brother came and got the other three to take to the fair in Pickle Park. But not those two. Oh, no. And I can't even blame him. I only take them places because I have to. I'm their mother," she ranted.
Arthur gulped. "Bad day, then?"
Molly took her wooden spoon from the counter and pointed it at him. "What do you think?"
"The twins?"
She glared.
He gulped again. Yep, the twins."I see." He placed his hat and briefcase on the kitchen table which earned him a look that caused him to quickly remove them and put them away in the hall cupboard. He stopped by the nursery to find Fred and George in the same cot, both with eyes closed, chests rising and falling rhythmically as they dreamed unknown dreams, side by side. They looked impossibly angelic.
He came back into the kitchen to find his wife muttering about demon children and abusing the donut dough with a rolling pin, and wiping excess flour onto her apron.
"So, where are the other boys?" Arthur asked. "You know, the ones who aren't the spawn of evil?"
"First, of all, do you hear nothing I say? I just told you where they were." Molly shook her rolling pin in his direction, mother-hen raging to the surface. "And, what did you just say about my children?" she demanded.
Arthur held out his hands in supplication. He'd been married long enough to know there was no reasoning with his wife when she was like this. Besides it was one of his favourite things about Molly. Her children might drive her to distraction, but if one disparaging word was said about any one of them, and she became a raging she-dragon with talons drawn and flames spouting to protect her brood.
"I said ourtwins are sleeping like angels." He smiled a sweet smile (he hoped) of surrender and put as much emphasis on the "our" as possible. It was sometimes necessary to remind Molly that they were a team. When he spent such long hours at the office and she was left here to mind the children, it was no wonder she sometimes felt that they belonged to her alone.
"Of course they are. Just a pinch of pixie dust in a bottle and—"
"Molly, dear." He began with caution. "I'm fairly certain that some months back the Ministry issued a memo indicating that it was improper to use pixie dust in such a manner."
Molly went back to abusing the dough with her rolling pin. "Yes, well, I didn't see anyone from the Ministry pulling one twin from the banister of the staircase while the other nicked my wand from my robe pocket."
"Oh my."
"And that was all before half eight. The rest of the day was a bit more challenging." She sighed. "Honestly, Arthur, I have no idea how I'm going to survive until those two go off to Hogwarts. They're only tots and I'm at my wits end. I feel like I complete a Mummy Tournament every day before nap time, and I've no sooner caught my breath before they're up and at it all over again. Thank Merlin, your brother has the other three for the afternoon."
Arthur did his best to change the subject. "Donuts, eh? Those are usually saved for a special occasion. Dare I ask?"
"Percy read his first set of rune stones today. Only three and he's reading rune stones!" She smiled the smile of a proud mother. "So smart, our little Percy."
Arthur sidled up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist. "Well, that's certainly cause for celebration."
She patted his hands, clasped as they were around her middle, and said, "Do get me the powdered sugar from the top cupboard, won't you, dear? Percy just loves it when I add that to the top of the donuts. And it is hisspecial treat."
Arthur was reluctant to release her; they got so little time alone in their normally bustling lives, so he reached up with his left hand and pulled the powdered sugar from the top shelf… and promptly dropped it so that it burst open and scattered all over the kitchen counters and floor.
"Honestly, Arthur, whatever would I do without your help?" Molly deadpanned. "That was sarcasm, you know, in case you missed it."
"No, no, I was following that." He drew his wand. "Here, I'll clean that up." He swished his wand and gave it a hard flick. The powdered sugar rose up in a twisting funnel, and he guided it from its place on the floor to the sink, when Molly pressed back against him, perhaps unwittingly, and his cock twitched, and his wand lost its hold, and powdered sugar once more coated the floor like a new fallen snow.
"I swear I think you're messier than the children, and I wasn't quite sure that was possible." She pulled away from him and took her wand from her robes. "I'll get it. I'll just—"
Arthur grabbed the wrist of her wand hand, halting her actions, and backed her up against the counter. "Listen, love, and tell me what you hear."
"Besides the sound of my clearly mad husband's voice?" she asked. "The husband who will be missing some of his more valued body parts if he tracks powdered sugar on my carpet because he didn't let me clean it up properly."
"Er, yes… besides that."
She cocked her head to the side. "I hear—"
Putting a finger to her lips, Arthur said, "—no tiny footsteps thundering up and down the stairs."
"No, none of those," she agreed.
He kissed her forehead, her nose… "No shouts of 'Mum, he took my broom; Mum, he's got my sock; Mum, Charlie's using my head as a Quaffle'."
She giggled. "Oh, Arthur, do keep that last one to yourself. No giving them any ideas, please."
His chuckles joined hers, and he drew a zipping motion across his mouth. "I should think they'll figure it out on their own in a few years, but for now, yes, I think that's better kept quiet." He brushed a sweaty curl aside that had stuck to her face. "You're beautiful."
"You're a randy bugger, Arthur Weasley!"
"Milady, are you questioning my honour?" Arthur teased.
"What I'm questioning, kind sir," Molly said, playing along, "are your intentions." She fisted her hands into his robe and pulled him close, the counter behind her biting into her ample bum. "I'm a married woman, you know, and my husband would not appreciate strange men propositioning his wife."
"Are you here alone?" he asked, playing along.
"Well, my husband works long hours, so much so that I rarely see him. I'm alone a lot."
Ouch. He deserved it, but he didn't see it coming.Luckily, he was quick thinking. "Your husband must care a great deal about providing for his family if he works such hours."
"You, sir, have a lot to learn about seducing married women, if you think singing the praises of their husbands will earn you favours."
He popped free the first button on her robe and pulled a pin from her hair, then he kissed her long and lingeringly. "Better?" he asked.
"Well, you have some to learn, but that's a bit of improvement."
"Oh, do I now?" He grabbed her bum. "Perhaps, kind lady, you could educate me in the art of seduction?"
There was a shuffling from the other room, and the sound of a baby turning over in its cot. They were becoming restless.
"Your education will keep for another time." Molly grabbed him hard against her and kissed him, her tongue seeking entry into his mouth. "Hurry!" she gasped, teeth clicking against his, hands clutching and tearing at his work robes. "Oh forget it," she said, frustration evident, as she wanded away his clothes, and then her own.
There they stood, naked as they were born, in the middle of the kitchen with all the windows open and the door unlocked.
"Molly, dear, I think—" Those were all the words he could form. Molly went down on her knees before him, and the rest of his sentence, which was intended to be "—we should close the curtains and lock the door"—came out as "Whhoo—eeee-oooh—yeah—eeee-ah—sigh." Apparently Molly did not speak the language of the mating Weasley man; she stayed down on her knees… not that he was complaining. She grasped the base of his prick, and took him in deep. Nope, he wasn't complaining one tiny bit. She increased suction, twisting her fingers around his length as she worked her way back toward the head of his cock. Not a single, solitary complaint. No, sir.
She hummed as she took him deep once more, sliding a hand around to smack his bum. Ah, his Molly, she was a frisky one. A few more strokes of that delicious tongue of hers and he was going to bend her over this table and-
"AAAAAAHHHHHHH!" There are few things odder than the sound of squeals in baritone. "Bloody fucking hell, you two," screeched Arthur's brother, Marc. He had one hand over Percy's eyes and another over Bill's and he was looking lost at what to do with little Charlie. "I got two hands and three boys all with working eyeballs and—and—and—Oh, this is going to leave scars! I am not paying for these therapy bills. Oh no. I didn't even get to be naked. This one's not being blamed on Uncle Marc. No sir, it is not." Marc rambled when placed in stressful situations.
Arthur looked at Molly; Molly looked back. No one seemed to know quite what to do as Charlie looked on—but the eyes of a child are a funny thing. Charlie zeroed in on the powdered sugar that coated the floor and pointed. "Jiminy, somebody's sure gonna get it. Mum doesn't like messes on her floor."