Title: Revelations
Rating: M
Pairing(s): Charlie/Bill, Charlie/Fleur, Bill/Fleur
Word Count: 1,925
Warnings: Slash, Het, Smut, Tad Bit of Angst, Weasleycest, Infidelity, Dub!Con
Summary: Bill worries, Charlie is more jealous than anyone realises, and Fleur is caught in the middle.
Author's Note: Written for lilmisblack on livejournal for charlieficathon :)
Bill wasn't looking for an easy way out. Marrying Fleur hadn't been some silly decision he had made on a whim, contrary to his mother's belief. He'd put a lot of thought into it. Of course, he wasn't going to go all out and say that her looks hadn't had anything to do with it; they were what attracted him to her in the first place. It just happened to be the strong and dominant personality that made him stay. It was always hard for him to say no to her, just as it had always been hard to say no to Charlie.
Regardless of the time, the amount of people in the next room, the door being locked, how tired he was . . . none of it mattered. All Charlie had to do was lean in close, whisper in his ear, and tilt his hips forward just the right amount (close enough to feel the body heat, but not close enough to touch Bill's own), and the oldest Weasley was rendered putty in his younger brother's hands. It didn't matter where they were, Bill would, in the instance that followed this quick foreplay, have his pants down and his member in some part of Charlie. Hand, mouth, arse, he really wasn't too peculiar as long as it was Charlie.
His younger brother would always get that look in his eye, some sly smile like he knew his deepest secret, before he departed, leaving Bill with a mess and the guilt. It chewed away at him. Did his parents know? Did his other brothers know? Did Ginny know? Regardless of how much he assured himself that it was only Charlie, always Charlie, who knew, it didn't help him sleep easier.
* * *
It was always hard for him to say no to Charlie. So when Charlie showed up on his doorstep at Shell Cottage, Bill knew he'd give in before Charlie even spoke a word.
"Do you mind if I stay for a few days?" Innocent words rolling out of Charlie's mouth didn't sound innocent at all.
"Of course," Bill responded, knowing it would end badly but, as always, unable to refuse. "As long a time as you need."
* * *
Unease was coiled up in Bill's stomach. It hurt to have his wife, whom he loved deeply, to be sleeping under the same roof as his younger brother. It was much more sickening than worrying if Percy or Ron knew. Did her quick, sidelong glances towards him when Charlie was in the shower hint that she knew how badly he wanted to follow him? When her hand accidentally shot back as if burned when they brushed against each other during breakfast, Bill's stomach turned. When she was seated in the study, reading a novel, as soon as Bill walked in, she bolted from the room. The final straw. While he usually avoided confrontation, the paranoia was no longer worth it.
The next afternoon, she was gone from the bed when he woke. Midday, he tracked her down to the kitchen, the afternoon sunlight parading in through the windows and the smell of something coming from the oven. Bill eyed her, light blue apron tied around her hips and nervous look on her face as she turned to him.
"Hello, sweet'art," she murmured, looking down. "I have not seen you all day."
"Yes," Bill agreed, taking the chance to lean back against the kitchen table. "I must admit. It's almost as if you're avoiding me."
"I am doing no such zing!" she protested, looking mortified, a blush creeping along her pale cheeks.
Sighing, Bill resigned to taking a forward approach. "If having my brother stay here is bothering you, because of me, I'll ask him to leave. It's only been about a week now, and I barely see you, and you avoid him like the plague. If anything is bothering you, he'll understand leaving."
"No, no, no," she shook her head and moved forward. "Please do not blame your brother, eet is really not his fault."
It was Bill's turn to look confused as he glanced at her. "What's not his fault?"
Gulping, the veela clenched her eyes before she answered, "Eet-eet is nothing. You are jus' being paranoid, I promise."
"Fleur," he paused, "you know you could tell me anything, right? I want you to know that you can trust me."
"Eet is jus' so embarrassing! You are my 'usband, I should not think these thoughts." She chewed her bottom lip, worry along her face. "I jus' cannot be okay with eet."
"Whatever it is," Bill sighed and turned to leave, "just tell me when you're ready."
* * *
The house was extraordinarily quiet for the next few days. Fleur saw almost nothing of either of the Weasley boys, and that worried her more than if they were running around making noise and occasionally destroying things like when other members of the family came to visit.
She was worried she had offended Bill. He waited until he thought she was asleep before he crawled into bed, and he was out of the house and at work by the time she awoke. He was always busy in his study during dinner, and she didn't run into him anywhere else in the house; he had taken to avoiding her this time. She wanted to apologize and maybe try and convince Bill it had just been a verbal mistake, something that had come out all wrong.
It was while she was trying to do just that when she ran into the wrong brother.
Charlie was on the terrace, seated in a newly painted white lawn chair and holding a book in his hands. He seemed genuinely startled to see her outside, but nonetheless pleased.
"Fleur," he started, standing, "I just wanted to thank you again for allowing me to stay in your home for a while. When I have time off, I just hate bothering Mum. There's always a handful of us staying there, so it's nice to have another option every now and then."
She tried to pull her normal air of confidence at this challenge of casual conversation. "Of course, eet is no problem at all. Our home is your home."
Striding towards her, we winked, brushing past, yet coming in the slightest of contact as he did so, and answered back, "I'll be sure to remember that."
The dragon tamer left a stunned and blushing veela on the patio as he disappeared into the house.
* * *
Bill grunted in frustration as he pulled out his wand to repair the glass he had dropped on the floor, not thrown at the wall. The shards of glass were scattered about the tile, but a quick, muttered "Reparo" had them back to a pretty, crystalline cup in no time. He tossed it gently into the sink and proceeded to sit back down at the kitchen table. It was aggravating to have Charlie here, who had taken to glancing past Fleur and at him with a knowing look that just pissed Bill off. He wasn't sure if it was the werewolf in him, or just natural possessiveness, but he wanted both of them, damn.
Charlie was Charlie, with his thick arms and tempting noises and inky tattoos that moved and arched in pleasure with their owner. But Fleur was Fleur, with her soft words and pretty smiles. True, he had chosen Fleur, had promised to be faithful, but it was beginning to wear on him.
* * *
The next time Bill walked into the study and noticed Fleur reading, he didn't leave. He sighed, entered the room and shut the door.
"You know," he resigned to leaning against the wood, "I'm almost starting to wonder if we really did rush into things a bit early. We still keep a lot from each other."
"I am not going to argue with you on zat. But, I also think two people should be able to keep their own secrets. If we knew everything about each other, we would be very, very bored." Fleur closed her book softly and glanced up, pale, blonde hair framing her pretty face. "I think your brother ez hitting on me."
The words stunned Bill at first. Then the jealousy began to creep through his veins. "Charlie's hitting on you?"
"I think so."
The burning feeling was first possession over Fleur. How dare his brother hit on his wife? But that feeling soon ebbed away and was replaced by the hurt that Charlie had been hitting on Fleur.
Rather than him.
Bill swallowed, gulping down the desire to track Charlie down and thoroughly maim him.
"You're probably imagining things," Bill assured, leaned forward, and placed a light kiss on her forehead. "Don't worry about it. I'll talk to Charlie."
Fleur blushed, embarrassed at thinking Charlie had been hitting on her evident on her face. "Thank you."
* * *
"You know," Charlie's voice startled her, the book in her hands dropping to the floor with a thud, "Fleur, I really think you should get to know me a little better before you assume I'm hitting on you."
Mortified, the girl threw her hands up to cover her face. "I cannot believe 'e told you zat!"
He merely chuckled and clicked the door shut behind him. "Honestly, I'm surprised you didn't say something to me yourself."
"Well," she stood up and picked up the book, fingers ghosting over the cover before grasping the spine. "Eet was silly, anyway, zo. . ."
She only had time to muse silently that Charlie's eyes were shaped just like Bill's before his lips were suddenly rough and chapped against her own. A muffled protest fell on deaf ears as he pressed against her, pushing her back down against the chair. Charlie could feel her heart thudding inside her chest, panicked and fast paced and, in his mind, he saw her as a little bluebird in a metal cage. Longing only for freedom.
When his calloused fingers rubbed at the hem of her skirt, she bit down on his lip forcefully, drawing blood. He drew back, an amused expression on his face.
"Really, Fleur, I was merely showing you how I really flirt with someone."
"I am married!" she exclaimed incredulously, "to your brother!"
"Should I go and get him?" Charlie's eyebrows shot up. "Now that you mention it, I think he'd join in if I asked politely."
The look of shock on her face made him grin, and he took the opening to slide his fingers along her inner thigh, watching as she squirmed and doubled over, her breath suddenly turning to pants.
"Stop," she pleaded softly, legs fidgeting.
"Tell me to stop again," Charlie answered, "and I will."
He didn't wait for a response and fingered the edge of her underwear before pushing past them and pressed a finger against her soft folds, amused at how much she was writhing. He gave an experimental prod, pleased when she let out a soft gasp. It was all the initiative he needed, and suddenly began to thrust his hand back and fourth. Fleur bit her lip and slammed her eyes shut as her hands clenched the armrests.
He continued his silent torture before letting his thumb slide up to nudge her clit, satisfaction pooling in his stomach as she sucked in a breath and stopped moving. With a rush of heat, she fell back against the chair, panting softly.
"Why?" she murmured.
Sighing, Charlie stretched carefully and wiped his hands on his jeans. "It's not fair you get to keep him."
Fleur could only look at him questioningly before he walked from the room.