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Less Than Perfect	By : KohakuShadow Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Bill/Charlie Views: 4253 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or any of its characters, nor am I making any money off of it. It's called FANfiction because I DON'T own it, right? Right.

Chapter List
- 1-Less Than Perfect
- 1
A/N: My first attempt at Bill/Charlie, and I'm not thrilled with it,
but since when does my opinion matter? My LJ buddies seem to be
perfectly happy with the way it turned out.

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Less Than Perfect

“I hate you for getting married,” Charlie slurred
blearily at his older brother as he hung off of Bill's shoulder.

Bill sighed and toed open the door of Shell Cottage. “You're
drunk, Char. You don't know what you're saying.”

“ 'course I know what I'm shayin',” Charlie slurred again
as Bill deposited him on the couch. “I hate you for getting
married to your perfect French bitch.” That sentence, Bill
noticed, was surprisingly free of slurring.

“Five minutes ago, you hated Snape for dying,” Bill
reminded him. He felt Charlie shudder against him. Snape was taboo;
Bill wasn't supposed to mention him. It was fine for Charlie to rant
about him, about how much he missed him, about what an arse he was
for getting himself killed, but it wasn't okay for anyone else to
even say his name – not in front of the red-headed lover he'd
left behind.

“He was a fucking bastard,” Charlie drawled, half asleep
on the couch already as Bill pulled off his shoes. “Always
breaking promises.”

“Like promising not to die?” Bill asked, gently settling
Charlie back against the cushions.

“Yeah,” Charlie mumbled blearily before his mind trailed
away from the subject. “Why'd you have to get married, Bill?”
he asked in a tone that sounded terribly childish and innocent after
his slurred cussing.

Bill offered his brother a bland shrug. “Wanted kids,”
he answered. “Seemed like the best way to get 'em.” He
pressed a soft kiss to Charlie's brow. “Get some sleep, Char.
You'll feel better in the morning.”

Bill knew that was bullshit as he pulled a blanket over Charlie's
stocky frame. The only thing Charlie would feel in the morning was
hungover and emotionally exhausted. Bill planned to be ready then
with coffee and a good cure for hangovers when he did. As for
mending Charlie's broken heart – he had no idea how he was
going to manage that. It had been four years since Snape had died,
and every year as it got closer and closer to the anniversary of the
Battle of Hogwarts, Charlie turned into a drunken mess.

Fleur was great about it. She would take the kids to visit their
grandparents in France. That left Bill alone in Shell Cottage to
take care of Charlie without any distractions. Well, any
distractions outside of his own mind. He sat on the floor beside the
couch and gently pet Charlie's hair until his brother fell asleep.
“Beautiful Charlie,” he sighed softly. “Surely
there's someone out there
that you can fall for. Someone who can help you ease the pain.”
He gently pushed his brother's hair away from his face and had to
use every bit of restraint he had not to kiss his slightly parted
lips, cursing himself for the weakness, for loving Charlie too much
and in all the wrong ways.

*

'You'll be alright?” Bill asked, resting a hand on Charlie's
shoulder.

“I'm fine,”
Charlie answered for what he was sure was the tenth time. “Go
get me food. I'm starving.”

Bill awarded him with a soft smile
and ruffled his hair. Charlie swatted at the hands, ignoring the
tight knot in his stomach at the smile. It was a sad smile, but the
first one he'd seen in ages. Bill used to be such a charmer, always
had this smug little smirk curling his lips like he was in on a joke
that had just gone over everyone else's head, but Charlie hadn't seen
his brother really smile in years, not since Egypt. He hated Fleur
for that even though it probably wasn't her fault. 'It
might even be my fault.'

“You think your stomach can handle it?” Bill asked. In
spite of the hangover cure, Charlie had spent half the day with his
head hung over the toilet. Charlie hated to admit it, but he was
drinking too much. The hangover cures no longer worked like they used
to. First that French bitch stole Bill's attention, and then, when
he thought he found someone – however unexpected –
in Severus Snape, the snarky bastard just had to go and get
himself killed right when Charlie had well and truly fallen for him.
He knew that wasn't Snape's fault, but he needed someone to blame.

When Bill left, he buried his face in his hands and tried to fight
back the bile rising in his throat. Four years. It still felt like
yesterday that he broke down at Snape's funeral. Fred was dead.
Severus was gone. Bill was still fucking married. He'd gone back to
Romania as quickly as possible – at least the dragons still
needed him.

And yet, every year he found himself on Bill's doorstep with a bottle
of firewhiskey and forty chocolate frogs – comfort food. He
knew he couldn't keep doing this. He was turning Bill's life upside
down. He didn't want to. He loved Bill. Even when he'd been with
Snape, he'd never stopped loving Bill. Severus didn't care. He still
loved Lily, after all. Fair was fair. That worked for both of them,
but now it was over. Snape was gone, and Charlie knew he had
to find a way to set Bill free too. He had to. He couldn't keep
showing up like this. It upset Bill too much. It caused worry lines
to crease the corner of his eyes, which his soft smiles never made it
to anymore. Trouble was, if he let Bill go, he didn't have anything
left to hold onto, or any reason to keep holding on.

Bill was a prince, of course. He never said anything. He always
welcomed him. Charlie knew he always would. That's why it was so
easy to just show up whenever things got really bad, because he knew
Bill would always open the door and make coffee in the morning.

Charlie sighed and ran his hands over his face. “I'm a bloody
mess. Where did cheerful, friendly Charlie go?” he complained.
He cussed under his breath about what a pathetic waste of space he'd
become and went to the living room. Bill had some books stacked on
the coffee table. He'd read until his brother got back with dinner.

When he found a leather-bound journal in the pile he couldn't contain
his curiosity. 'I really shouldn't...' he thought, knowing
full well what it was. Bill had been scribbling in this journal and
tucking it beneath his pillow since they were boys. Charlie was
constantly making fun of him for his 'diary'. A soft smile crossed
Charlie's lips as he remembered how Bill would whap him on the head
with it and tell him to go to sleep. Things were so much easier
then. Perfect, even. That was back before girlfriends and boyfriends.
It was just him and Bill. Sometimes, he would give anything to
return to those inseparable days.

He flipped the journal open to the most recent entry.

'Charlie's come again. Drunk, as usual. I hate seeing him this
way. I don't know how to help him. It still boggles my mind how much
he loved Snape, and I never knew. He never said anything. We used
to talk about everything when we were younger. Girls. Blokes. Then
we grew up and he stopped talking. I guess that's probably my fault
somehow. I used to think I was a good big brother. I always tried
my best to watch out for Charlie without being overbearing. I tried
to let him make his own mistakes and not judge him too harshly when
he made them. It never seemed strange to me that of all my
siblings, he was my favorite. After all, he was the one that came
first. But then he grew up into this absolutely gorgeous man, and I
started having all these other feelings, the kind you're not supposed
to have about family...'

Charlie gasped. 'Bill...' He shook his head and kept
reading, devouring the words his beloved brother had kept secret from
him.

'...it's so hard to see him like this. Surely, there must be
someone who can help ease his pain. I wish there was some way I
could comfort him. Anything...'

Charlie snapped the journal shut and hastily shoved it back into the
pile when he heard the back door open. He returned to the kitchen to
find his brother dripping wet in the doorway. “Bloody
weather,” Bill complained, shirking off his jacket. He was
soaked straight down to the skin. Charlie watched as he kicked off
his shoes and sopping wet socks, his white shirt, and rang out his
ponytail. Tall, thin, handsome Bill. Suave, sexy Bill. Bill, who
wanted him and had for a long time. Bill, who Charlie had wanted
since, pretty much puberty. It didn't mean he didn't still love or
miss Severus just because he was letting these old feelings for his
brother get the best of him; it just meant that Bill was right. He
needed someone. A quick shag in a dingy bar wouldn't do. It
had to be someone who cared about him, someone who he loved. There
was only one person alive that fit that description.

He took a few steps forward, carefully pulling the tie out of Bill's
hair and loosening the damn strands to let them dry. “Gotta
love spring weather,” Charlie answered. He noticed the way
Bill's shoulders tensed.

“Yeah,” Bill answered. The breathless quality of his
voice let Charlie know just how true the words in his journal had
been. He decided, with every bit of reckless courage working with
dragons afforded him, to take the chance that would change
everything, and rested his hands on Bill's shoulders.

“I love you, you know,” Charlie said.

Bill's lips quirked upward in slight amusement. “You're drunk
again. First you hate me, now you love me?” 'If only that
were true,' Bill thought before he remembered how very, very bad
it would be for Charlie to love him as much as he loved his stocky
younger brother. Horrible. Devastating. It would ruin everything
eventually.

“Painfully sober,” Charlie answered. “And hating
you because I love you so damn much.”

Before Bill could answer he pulled his sopping brother down with one
square hand on the back of his neck and kissed him firmly. Bill's
eyes widened rather comically. Charlie chuckled deep down in the
back of his throat. It was nice that something could surprise
Bill. He rested his other hand on his brother's hip and tried to
make the kiss a little more insistent. Bill wanted him. He knew he
did. And he needed Bill. He just had to break his brother's
resolve. Unfortunately, he also had to breathe.

“Charlie?” Bill's mind was swimming. Charlie had just
kissed him? And he was sober? It felt as if the world had just turned
upside down. Charlie's charmingly bulky figure had him pressed
against the door.

“I read your diary,” Charlie blurted.

Bill opened his mouth, about to remind his brother that it wasn't a
'diary', it was a 'journal', because, after all, journals are more
manly and far more adult, but then he realized the implications and
turned rather pale. “I...”

“...love me,” Charlie answered. “The same way I've
always loved you.”

“I'm married,” Bill reasoned. Marriage had been good to
him. It gave him beautiful children, a charming wife, and a very
good reason to keep his hands off of his brother. He wouldn't admit,
even to himself, that that last bit had probably had more to do with
his proposal to Fleur than he cared to admit.

“Your wife isn't here now, Bill,” Charlie said. “It's
just us. Like old times.”

“Not so much like old times,” Bill answered. 'Old times,'
didn't involve kissing or feeling his brother's sensual body pressed
against him. It certainly didn't involve the intense concentration
required in trying not to get an erection. It was a battle he
was reluctant to admit he was losing.

Charlie caressed his cheek. “No one has to know,” he
purred. Bill didn't miss the plea in his tone. “Please, Bill?
It's been four years since I've been touched by someone who
actually gave a damn whether or not I was still there in the
morning.”

'A replacement for Snape, then,'
Bill thought as Charlie leaned up and tried for another kiss. Bill
couldn't bring himself to deny him. He loved his wife, his family,
but he'd never loved anyone the way he loved Charlie. He could
argue, reason, but in the end he couldn't deny the handsome
dragon-keeper anything. He opened his mouth to Charlie's prodding
tongue and gave up the battle of wills with his hormones as the kiss
deepened. He didn't know whether he wanted to laugh or cry. This
was so wrong, and yet, he'd wanted it for so very, very long. He'd
only ever wanted two things for himself – two things that had
always gotten in each other's way. He'd wanted Charlie, and he'd
wanted to be a father. He never saw any way to have both, so he'd
chosen the only one that seemed possible. And yet, here was Charlie,
kissing him, pressing his strong hands against his chest, dragging
his lips down along his throat. “Fuck. Char...”

“Love you,” Charlie whispered.

Bill's normal level of suave seemed to abandon him. He could only
nod dumbly as he felt his brother's erection press into his thigh.

“Let's go upstairs,” Charlie continued.

It was wrong, Bill reminded himself,
the way he settled Charlie back against the bed he shared with Fleur,
how he slowly undressed him, laid kisses along his well-defined chest
and his broad shoulders, down his stomach, and licked his lips
unconsciously when his thick, hard shaft sprang free, but his mind
just kept coming back to Snape
– how Snape hadn't turned Charlie away, how many times he
probably got to run his hands along Charlie's beautiful, stocky body,
and in spite of the fact that Snape was gone, Bill couldn't help but
feel jealous of the man for all the times Charlie probably cried out
his name in passion. There was a selfish part of Bill that hated the
idea of anyone's hands running over Charlie's body but his own. He
usually ignored it, but that was impossible with his brother naked
before him with his arms held loosely over his head, smirking up at
him from behind a tuft of rebel fringe that fell across his brow.

Bill paused. 'I should
stop this. We can't do this. I'm married. He's my brother.'
He didn't think for the moment about how the fact that he and
Charlie were siblings was an argument that didn't show up until the
end. If he had realized it, it would have sent his mind off on
another tangent about how disturbed and sick he was, looking down at
his younger brother with unconcealed lust.

Sensing his older brother's uncertainty, Charlie used his hip to flip
them over. Bill landed against the mattress in a heap and Charlie
quickly worked open his wet pants before he could protest. The long
red hair fanning out against the bedding (floral and far too
effeminate, Bill must have let Fleur pick it out), was one of the
most beautiful things he'd ever seen. He leaned down and ran his
fingers through it. “Have I ever mentioned I have a serious
thing for long hair? I'm pretty sure it's your fault,” Charlie
purred against Bill's throat.

Bill opened his mouth, but all that came out was a moan when
Charlie's free hand dove down into his shorts and gripped his cock.
Against his better judgment – which was quickly flying out the
window – he bucked up into the touch. “Char...” he
rasped. “We shouldn't...”

“...wait any longer. I know.”
Charlie also knew that isn't what Bill was about to say, but it would
be devastating to get this close and have to stop. He wouldn't let
Bill say it. He knew Bill – proper, make everyone happy but
himself, Bill Weasley – wanted this as badly as he did. Needed
it just as badly as he did. Maybe he needed it even more. Perfect
son, perfect father, perfect husband, perfect brother. Maybe, just
maybe, what Bill needed was something less than perfect. 'Something
like me. His podgy-bellied brother who spends so much time
bullshitting everyone into thinking he's happy as a clam that when he
breaks down, he fucking shatters. Maybe he needs someone he doesn't
need to be perfect for.'

Charlie shoved the philosophical analysis aside and pulled Bill's
pants off so quickly that they tore. He stared down at the long, hard
cock perched between Bill's legs and licked his lips. Bill was
smooth as silk everywhere, except for the scars. Grayback had
wreaked havoc on his face, but there were smaller scars too, things
he must have earned when he was working in Egypt but kept covered so
no one would worry. That would be a Bill thing to do. He'd wear
long sleeves in August if he thought it would make everyone feel more
at ease.

“Merlin's beard, Bill, you're...”

“Not what you were expecting?” Bill asked, twisting his
mouth into a wry smile.

“Better than I was expecting,” Charlie answered as he he
sat straddled across his brother's thighs. He traced a thin, white
scar over Bill's ribcage. “How'd you get this?”

“Severing hex,” Bill answered. “Made a bad guess.
Opened the wrong door.”

Charlie smiled and traced it down to Bill's hipbone. “Mum
would freak if she knew.”

“That's why she doesn't,” Bill answered. Something had
changed. A moment ago, there had been a manic need between them, but
now Charlie was just caressing him, touching him so gently it was as
if he was afraid that Bill might break, asking about the various
small scars dotting his torso. Charlie had more than a few scars of
his own – a burn scar on his right bicep, two parallel lines,
probably from talons, across his left thigh, but he was still
striking. Bill ran his hands along his brother's love handles. “Why
are we talking about mum at a time like this, Char?”

Charlie tilted his head with a blameless grin – one that Bill
had missed seeing terribly – and pressed their cocks together
to keep their erections from wilting. “Beats the hell out of
talking about Fleur,” he replied.

Bill's eyes dropped away, riddled with guilt.

“No,” Charlie said firmly, turning Bill back to him. “I
love you, but I'm not going to pretend your wife or our mum, or all
the people we know, don't exist because it will make you feel better
now, and like a dirtbag later. I want you more than you can fucking
imagine, but if you take me, you take our baggage too, Bill.
Everything as it is, for what it is. Your wife, my dead lover, our
family who can never, ever know about this because they wouldn't
understand. All of it or none of it, Bill. That's how it's got to
be.” He wanted Bill terribly. It would kill him to stop now,
but it had to be mutual. It had to be Bill's choice. Anything less
would only make them both suffer, and Charlie, for one, had had
enough of drunkenly longing for things he couldn't have.

Bill sighed. 'All or nothing,huh? Well, Charlie's that kind of
guy.' “Snape went for 'all' then, I imagine?”

The sorrow that edged into Charlie's eyes told Bill what he needed to
know. “Snape was the all or nothing type. What are you?”
he asked firmly. He rolled his hips again to keep the dour atmosphere
from wilting his need and took a sinister satisfaction in the fact
that Bill couldn't stop himself from rocking his hips upward in
response.

Bill made a snap decision and flipped them back over, pinning
Charlie's wrists above his head. Merlin, he was beautiful. “I'm
your brother. Think you can deal with that?”

“Can you?” Charlie returned.

“Bloody well have to now, don't you think?”

Charlie grinned and wrapped his legs around Bill's hips. “Fuck
me then,” he said roughly, lifting his head to drag his lips
along Bill's jaw. “Your brother wants you to fuck him on your
wife's prim, perfect bedding. Kinky enough for you?”

“You're disturbed, Char,” Bill replied, but there was a
light in his eyes and a bemused smirk that Charlie hadn't seen in far
too long as his brother summoned the lube and plunged two fingers
into his arse.

Charlie bucked and groaned. “Nngh. Fuck yes. That's me.
Disturbed. Randy. And you're fucked too, since you love me for it.
Oh bloody hell, Bill!”

Bill smirked as he ground his fingers into Charlie's prostate.
Beautiful. The way he arched and cried out. How loud he was.

“Go straight for the jugular, don't you?” Charlie rasped,
chest heaving as he pressed back against the intrusion. 'So good!'

Bill dragged his nails against the tender spot within his brother and
watched Charlie's prick jump. “You'd be disappointed if I
didn't,” Bill answered with a smirk, pulling the fingers away
and out of his brother abruptly.

Charlie groaned in protest at the loss. “Nngh. Smarmy
bastard,” he complained.

A bemused smirk was the only answer Bill gave him before plunging his
cock rather unceremoniously inside. Charlie loved him for that. It
was just what he needed. Rough. Fast. A pretense-free, I love you too
much to be gentle, shag. A shag that would force Bill to let go of
all his moral righteousness, because when you're rutting your brother
into the mattress, it's pretty hard to think about right and wrong.
'Especially when what's wrong feels so very, very right.'
“Biillll....” Charlie keened as the older Weasley hit his
prostate with each hard stroke, forcing his hips up off the mattress.

“Char...” Bill groaned. Did he have any idea how
beautiful he was, clutching the pillows behind him, legs wrapped
around Bill's hips, rocking upward as his eyes rolled and his lips
parted, his thick, dusky cock dripping precum onto his podgy belly?
He leaned down to devour his brother's lips, lace his fingers through
his tangled hair as he continued to thrust his hips roughly into
Charlie's eager hole. The details didn't seem important now. Yes, it
was wrong. Yes, it counted as cheating on his wife. Yes, he would
never be able to look at this bed the same again. Yes, family affairs
were bound to be...unique...from now on, but all that faded into
irrelevance in comparison to Charlie's anus tensing and flexing
around his cock with each thrust. He'd deal with all of it if it
meant he could have this, could give it to Charlie, could be what the
brother he loved far, far too much needed, when he needed it.

Charlie tightened the grip he had with his thighs and rolled them
over again, sitting back to enjoy the sensation of riding Bill's long
shaft. He was so bloody close! The tension that he thought had
taken permanent residence at the base of his neck and through his
shoulders had long since evaporated. Bill was smiling at him,
gripping his hips and jerking them up to meet each downward thrust.
His prostate was humming, his cock was going to explode with even the
slightest touch. 'This must be heaven.' He smirked playfully
down at his brother and twisted at the waist, reaching behind him to
give Bill's balls a good squeeze.

Bill cried out his surprised pleasure so loudly it echoed off the
walls of the otherwise silent cottage. “Prat,” he
rasped, glaring up at his younger brother. He'd nearly lost it, and
that wouldn't do, not when Charlie was still so hard. He managed to
get a grip on logical thought (no easy task when your kid brother had
you by the balls) enough to wrap his fingers around Charlie's cock
and tug it roughly.

“Oh, fuck yes!” Charlie gasped, Bill's balls forgotten in
favor of rocking his hips between his brother's cock and hand like a
wanton whore. “Bill,” he rasped.
“Biiill...Bill...haaannh...Bill....” He couldn't form
coherent sentences any longer. He just chanted his brother's name
over and over again, working his hips madly, his bum squeezing Bill's
prick so tightly that Bill felt as if Charlie was trying to pop it
right off and keep it up his arse forever.

That's when the world exploded. Bill jerked suddenly, managing to
thrust once more into Charlie's prostate, hard enough that Charlie
felt he'd very nearly punched a hole right through it, and both men
cried out their pleasure and came. Bill's thick release pulsed out
to flood his brother's arse. Charlie's heavy orgasm arched high and
splattered thick white ribbons across Bill's stomach and chest.

When the world finally made sense again, Bill found himself still
quite naked, spooning up against Charlie's back, running his fingers
gently over sweat-damp hair. Charlie was in a dead sleep, snoring
away contently. Bill peered over his brother's shoulder at the
slightly parted lips, curved into the barest smile and sighed. He
hadn't seen Charlie looking so pleased with himself in far too long.

His stomach flopped, reminding him what a disaster this was. His
morals came back, ready to give him hell about shagging his own
brother, but Charlie's voice cut through the moment of panic. 'If
you take me, you take our baggage too, Bill. Everything as it is, for
what it is.' That's right, Bill reminded himself, he'd already
made his decision. It was too late to back out now. For better or
worse, he'd chosen Charlie. He would always choose Charlie. The
situation might be less than perfect, but as Bill rested his head
against the pillows, listening to his brother's gentle snoring, he
thought, just maybe, there was nothing wrong with less than perfect.

~The End~
- 1
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Less Than Perfect