A/N: Warnings for (slash) sexuality. It's just crack, so I hope you enjoy it.
******
"Nice place," one of them said; Walter thought it was the one called George.
"My friend's," he grunted in response, leading them up the stairs. It was the simplest way to describe what Daniel was to him.
"And where is your friend?"
"At a conference."
They exchanged a look behind his back, which they did not think he saw, and trailed him into the spare bedroom where he had been staying, just down the hall from Daniel's room. The sight of the neatly made bed coiled the spring of anxiety in his belly even tighter. He waited for them to speak or move; they did neither. "Well, how does this work?" His voice sounded almost petulant. He clenched his fists reflexively.
"You tell us," the twin closest to him replied.
"You're in control here," the other added.
Walter wrinkled his nose, squinting at their hair, which was several shades less brilliant than his own, but red nevertheless.
"You didn't expect gingers?"
"Didn't expect limeys."
The twin laughed. "Well, there en't much we can do about that, mate, but..." He withdrew a length of wood that resembled a conductor's baton from his inside coat pocket. "...the hair is another matter. What do you prefer? Blond?" The young man muttered a few words and pointed with the stick at his brother's hair, with immediately turned yellow as cornsilk. The newly blond twin grinned at Walter fetchingly.
Walter strode toward the redheaded twin and was gripping his wrist in the blink of an eye. He felt the bones sliding under his grasp. "What is this?" he barked. "Some kind of joke?"
"No joke, sir," the redhead assured him without missing a beat. "It's all part of our impeccable service. We guarantee what the customer wants. No questions asked."
Walter cocked his head but did not release the other man's wrist. Neither twin seemed at all nonplussed by his show of violence.
"Fred, take my wand, won't you? Put it on the dresser there, along with yours. Perhaps that will reassure our client."
The blond twin, a jovial grin still lighting his face, slipped the length of wood from his brother's hand and removed a similar object from his own jacket pocket. Walter observed carefully as the young man laid the two 'wands' on his dresser.
"Feel better?" Fred asked, returning to his brother's side.
"The article about you in the New Frontiersman," Walter began slowly. "It suggested that you two might have some...extranormal powers. Magic."
"'Stuff and nonsense', that's what our Aunt Muriel would say..." Fred quipped.
"...and she's a clever lady, is our Aunt Muriel."
Walter's brown eyes flicked back toward George's hazel ones, which were calm and welcoming. Their voices, their body language: nothing raised any flags in Walter's mind. They seemed completely trustworthy. Although that, in itself, was worrisome. He chewed the inside of his cheek.
"Hurm," he rasped, freeing George's wrist. Stripping them of those disturbing batons had gone a long way to make him feel safe, but still...
"Undress," he demanded, crossing his arms over his chest. "Both of you."
They obeyed with aplomb. Walter watched, face betraying no interest, as the twins loosened their ties and shrugged out of their jackets. The two Englishmen competed for his gaze, but when George licked his lips casually while unbuttoning his shirt, Walter swallowed grimly. Fred noticed this interplay and, grinning, unbuckled his belt with much more broadly seductive movements. Walter felt a blush creep up his throat. He fixed his eyes back on George, who seemed the less flamboyant of the brothers. The twins were quite a bit taller than him, and he could not help but be impressed by their lean but strongly-built frames. Their skin was not creamy-pale like his own; rather they had the tan, athletic muscles of youth. Creatures of the day, they were. Not like Walter. Their limbs spoke of carefree play, of sports and camaraderie. He wondered if their skin would smell like grass and sunlight.
George watched Walter calmly, grabbing his brother's shoulder to balance himself while he stripped off his socks. Walter found the gesture terrifyingly familiar and credulous. He set his face back into its usual deadpan as the twins disrobed entirely.
They were not quite identical, he noticed. There were subtle differences between them: George had a mole on his chest; Fred's arms were more heavily freckled. There was one, far less subtle, difference: the change that George had performed on his brother's hair had obviously applied itself to his entire body. Walter found it somewhat fascinating to compare their genitals, mirror images except for the color of the curls that surrounded them. At last the young men stood side by side, supremely confident in their own nakedness. Two sets of hazel eyes regarded him calmly.
"Would you like me to undress you?" Fred asked, breaking the silence.
Walter ignored this. "Which one of you is the better kisser?" he asked gruffly.
George pointed at Fred. Fred pointed at himself.
"Show me." It was not an invitation, and Walter bit each word off like a man walking to his place in front of a firing squad. When Fred approached him and touched his hip, Walter took a step backward, lifting his chin warningly.
"Okay, okay," the blond murmured, gentling him, and leaned down to press cautious lips against Walter's mouth. The vigilante willed himself to relax and closed his eyes. He thought of Daniel, tall and broad, with wavy chestnut hair. He imagined that it was Daniel's mouth kissing him now, Daniel's teeth grazing his lower lip, Daniel's tongue slipping in to coax his jaw wide and ravage him, dragging a moan of pleasure from the depths of his chest. Walter felt his groin stir to life.
When the kiss finally ended and Walter opened his eyes, Fred's hazel eyes were twinkling. Walter looked past the blond to see George sitting on the bed, smiling at him. The vigilante had never known a redheaded man could be so handsome.
"Where could I get a few strands of his hair?" Fred whispered.
Walter blinked at the non sequitur and frowned quizzically, but he had an idea whom the blond meant.
"It's just one more facet of the Weasley guarantee," George interjected, shrugging, as if this explained everything. He patted the bed next to him.
"Has he got a hairbrush in the lav?" Fred persisted.
Simultaneously aroused and overwhelmed by the insanity of the situation, Walter jerked his head toward Daniel's room. Fred claimed a small object from the pocket of his discarded trousers and disappeared down the hall. Walter whirled suspiciously after the departing twin.
"No worries, mate," George interrupted soothingly. Once again he invited Walter to join him on the bed, stroking the quilt in an inviting manner. It was the redhead's gentle and honest smile that sold Walter in the end; clenching his jaw, he claimed a seat near the younger man. George raised his eyebrows at the distance between them.
"Is the electric razor his?" Fred called, the particular acoustics indicating that he was standing in Daniel's bathroom.
Walter stared at George, but the twin's eyes revealed nothing. He nodded.
"Yes, Fred!" George yelled. His tone softened as he turned toward Walter. "Would you like to kiss me now? Practice what you've learned?"
Walter sat with his back straight, palms on thighs, and regarded the area rug. "He kissed me last week."
George nodded.
Walter felt the twin's eyes upon him. "I didn't know what to do," he offered defensively.
"You want to please him. That's perfectly understandable." The bed shifted as George's weight moved closer, and then closer again. Walter held himself still when he felt the Englishman's hip press against his own. Naked heat baked through the fabric of his trousers. He willed his body to relax and subsided ever so slightly against George, who touched his chin to Walter's shoulder. "That's why you contacted us. We're here to help. You just have to let us." Walter closed his eyes at the sensation of George's warm breath on his jaw. Gritting his teeth, he placed one hand on the other man's long, bare thigh. The flesh under his fingers was at once soft and rough; the quadriceps muscle slumbered lean and powerful over bone. He dared a glance to the side. The sight of George's growing erection sent a thrill through him.
"Go on, then," the Englishman murmured, indicating his cock with a nod.
Licking his lips, Walter stretched his fingers until the tips brushed George's swelling flesh. The twin sighed; his hips twitched. Walter's hand crawled back to grasp the younger man's prick. He stroked it ever so gently, amazed to feel its silken length thicken at his touch.
George hummed with pleasure and tilted back to prop himself on his palms. "That's nice. Now a little harder." He chuckled at the infinitesimal increase of pressure. Walter was wary of hurting him. "Try what you like. What feels good to you."
Swallowing nervously, Walter gripped George more firmly in the circle of his thumb and forefinger and began to milk him. Delighted, the Englishman tilted his pelvis upward. "There," he purred. "That's quite good."
Walter bit his lower lip, enjoying the younger man's pleasure. George gasped, and a bolt of desire ricocheted through the vigilante. He wanted more than anything to see the twin desperately hard, straining for release.
"Might have known you'd start without me," said a voice from the doorway.
Walter looked up at the speaker, released George's prick and, eyes wide, scrambled backward across the bed until his spine struck the wall with a thump.
"Daniel," he growled. "You-"
"I'm not really Daniel, mate," said the tall, well-muscled brunette standing in the doorway. "I'm Fred."
"Look like Daniel," Walter muttered. "Sound like Daniel." Everything about the man was achingly familiar. Except for his casual nudity. Walter's eyes, of their own accord, roved over the strong limbs, which were furred lightly with brown hair. A thick, if flaccid, cock lay between powerful thighs. Something built inside Walter that he could not put a name to, something red and restless.
"This is what he needed the hair for," George said quietly. "You're seeing an exact replica of Daniel. It's just not Daniel."
Walter dragged his gaze away from the man in the doorway to look at the redheaded twin. "How-"
George shook his head. "Not your concern." He cocked an eye at his disguised brother, then asked Walter, "Don't you want to explore him?"
Yes! shrieked every dark impulse inside the vigilante's compact frame. Yes, want to touch, want to lick. Yes. Daniel...
Fred/Daniel put out his hand, and Walter found himself crawling off the bed to take it, just as he had taken Daniel's hand that night in Archie when, laughing, Nite Owl had put the ship into autopilot and tugged Rorschach's mask up to celebrate the defeat of their foes with an inexplicable kiss. Now, too, Walter felt himself wrapped in powerful arms and pressed against an impossibly broad, impossibly hot chest. But this time Walter leapt forward to kiss those full, waiting lips, to test that mouth with tongue and teeth. He had always been a fast learner, and now Fred/Daniel moaned under the lustful assault.
Walter felt hands on him from behind, undressing him. George. But he did not mind; he was glad, in fact. The clothes hindered him from feeling his own naked flesh against Daniel's, and he thought he might burst into flame if George did not hurry. He fumbled with his belt, helping, as Fred/Daniel planted open-mouthed kisses along his throat. When George took over again, yanking his trousers down, Walter reached for that thick cock, and Fred/Daniel's breath hitched, and Walter stroked him until he was thrillingly hard. Then George was stroking Walter's bare backside. The vigilante startled at the sensation, but the brunette soothed him, drawing him back into a kiss. Walter's own prick swelled feverishly against Fred/Daniel's naked thigh.
"Do you want to fuck him?" George growled in his ear.
Walter gasped into Fred/Daniel's mouth at the words, both shocked and aroused by the vulgarity. Both twins chuckled at his reaction. The brunette disentangled himself, rubbing every inch of skin possible against Walter, and stepped farther into the room
TBC...