AN: This was written in response to a livejournal fic challenge. *cries* Hope you enjoy it! XD Edit: No major edits, came back after years and was horrified by the formatting. Hopefully fixed.

Prank

by Prismatic

Summary: Fred and George want to prank Bill while he's home, but Bill's well acquainted with their tricks. The two end up with some free time on their hands. (Twincest; shounen-ai)

"Come on, Ron, be a sport about it," George wheedled. He and Fred had finally caught up to Ron in the Garden, and neither was about to give up easily.

"No," Ron said indignantly, "I am not going to help you prank Bill! Don't you remember what happened last time? I bloody well do!"

The twins stopped to reminisce about that particular incident with some fondness. They had gotten Ron to help them stuff their older brother's school trunk with time-lapse Unmentionable Mints--- candies designed to emit loud bursts of profanity while showering anyone nearby with tacky fluid. The candies were really quite tasty (resembling spearmint-flavored marshmallows), but their best use was obvious. The twins had saved up their pocket money and bought three pounds of the confection, waiting for the right moment to put it to good use. They got their opportunity right before the Weasley family had set off for the train station during Fred and George's second year.

Bill knew better, of course, than to allow the twins anywhere near his possessions, but he hadn't a clue that Ron could be in on one of the mischievous redheads' pranks. Ron was able to slip the mints into the trunk unnoticed. The candies had been timed to go off at the train station while it was being loaded, but had activated earlier than expected, while they were waiting for the Hogwarts Express.

The twins were completely unprepared, and as such did not have nearly the head start they'd have needed to outrun their infuriated elder brother. Bill had quickly caught up with them and scorched them both with Posterius efflammablis, more commonly known as "Murdenbrook's Pants-On-Fire curse." It hadn't taken much longer for Bill to realize who'd actually planted the candy, and Ron soon joined the twins in the hot seat.

"Yes, that was a nice one wasn't it," Fred said dreamily. "I couldn't sit down for a week!"
"I still think we should have told Mum he knew a curse like that. She would have blown her top," George muttered.

"You're both barking mad," Ron declared, and marched past them into the house, where their mother was cooking up a large dinner and where, presumably, he would be safe from their attempts to get him in spectacular amounts of trouble.

The twins looked at one another, shrugged, and huddled close together to rework their plan. No worries; after all, it was a beautiful day, and just sitting in the grass enjoying each others' company was a fulfilling way to pass the time. Bill would only be home for another four days or so, but the two had confidence that an opportunity would present itself. For now, they'd scheme in the mild sunshine.

Two days later, they were starting to run out of time. If they were to pull this one off, it would have to be soon. George was sitting on his rumpled bed filling in Astrology charts. Ruddy summer brothers were catching up on the past month's forecasts, exercising their creative writing skills. It was dreadfully hot, and they'd eschewed their normal clothing in favor of some Muggle stuff they'd found in their father's car after he'd come back from a raid. (George remembered hearing something about jeans charmed to shrink three sizes in cold water.) Mum kept yelling at them to put some clothes on, so of course they remained shirtless and in the smallest cutoffs they could find.

As George wrote in another dire forecast a flash of movement caught his eye. A head of long red hair was passing the open door. He crept to the door to see Bill hurrying down the stairs to the kitchen. He hissed at his brother to get his attention, then motioned Fred across the hallway. Fred surreptitiously checked in on Bill's room.

"George! He's left his stuff alone!"

"Right then. I'll guard the door," George replied, grinning from ear to ear. Fred pulled out his wand and carefully muttered an incantation; a useful little charm he'd gleaned from Professor Flitwick's class. It allowed the caster to detect the presence of malicious curses anchored to an object. Fred wouldn't put it past his older brother to leave something particularly nasty on his luggage just to thwart the twins' antics.

A small blue bubble unfolded from the end of the redhead's wand and drifted lazily toward the trunk. The bubble hovered for a moment before popping on the wooden lid with a soft poik!. Fred grinned in satisfaction; if there had been a spell on the luggage the bubble would have turned red, and popped soundlessly. Luck was with the twins today!

"All right," Fred said, "Let's do it!" George tossed a swollen sack of dungbombs to his brother, who crouched down and lifted the trunk's lid.

There was a sudden flash of light, and abruptly both boys found themselves slamming into the floor of a pitch-dark room.

Fred ran his fingers along the rough paneling of the wall. The tiny room they were now in was familiar to him: it was the Weasley's small attic closet. Mostly empty, it had once been used by the boys to store their "munitions", as George put it, since the rest of the family seldom went in the attic on account of the noisy ghost inhabiting it.

The twins had made truce with the ghost long ago and when younger had often used the attic as a base of operations for some of their most elaborate pranks. After their mother had found out, though, they'd had to abandon the closet; Mum would perform random checks of the attic and throw out anything remotely suspicious that she found. George tested the door, and when it did not open, attempted an Unlocking Charm to no success. It looked as though they were well and truly stuck there, until their older brother decided to cancel his spell and let them out. (Which would probably be, oh, about thirty years from now.)

"Brilliant, Bill, absolutely brilliant!" Fred said, shaking his head admiringly. Bill had, in fact, protected his belongings; but he had charmed the floor that his trunk was resting on rather than the trunk itself, and his spell had gone undetected by the twins.

"I suppose we're going to be stuck in here all day," George said mournfully, looking sidelong at his twin with a gleam in his eye.

"Too bad, that," Fred said, leaning back into George's familiar arms. George, for his part, ran his fingers lightly down the other's back, sliding his hands around to trail down his brothers' abdomen, slipping his hands inside Fred's waistband and teasing his tightening skin. Fred shuddered at the touch and turned around, draping himself over George as goosebumps prickled along his arms. George continued his confident ministrations, hands on his brother's firm buttocks, tickling lightly and eliciting a gasp of pleasure.

"You're incorrigible," Fred muttered, teeth closed over George's neck. The two moved quietly in the dark room, touching constantly, striving to be as close to one another as they could get, closer than in the womb.

"Whatever would I do without you, George?" Fred said, smirking.

"Be cold and lonely, I expect," the other replied, wrapping a strong leg about his twin's back.
Preoccupied, they did not notice the sound of heavy, regular footsteps crossing the attic. The door swung open and the twins blinked up into the horrified face of one Bill Weasley, who stood wide-eyed, gaping like a stranded trout for a full minute before remembering to breathe normally. The closet door slammed shut with impressive force, leaving the two boys in the dark once more.

"Why Fred... I do believe we've gotten the last laugh," George said in mock surprise.
"Oh, shut up and kiss me."