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That's Life	By : KohakuShadow Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Bill/Charlie Views: 7210 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: If I owned Harry Potter, I would be rich and wouldn't feel the need to write fanfic about it, silly. Which pretty much implies the obvious that I'm not making money off of it. From my wallet to you: No Kidding.

Chapter List
- 1-That's Life
- 1
Warnings: slash, weasleycest, character death(as noted in summary), impotence, anal, hand job

A/N: Written as a Christmas gift and nspired by That's Life by David Lee Roth.

Yes, I have a mailing list. If you're interested, check my profile for details.

That's Life

It was October that was always the hardest. Once the kids had gone off to school in September, there was always a degree to which Bill felt he could finally relax a bit, get some work done about the house that he couldn't when he was busy making meals and tidying up, and doing things he never thought would be such a central part of his life. Between work and being a father, most days he didn't know which way was up.

Summer was easy, with all the kids about and family popping by unannounced, and weekend trips, various mini-holidays. He kept quite busy. September was easy, too – see his rambunctious lot safely off to Hogwarts, sleep in for a week, when all he had was work to attend to, and then busy himself about the house with all the things that needed fixing. It was October that was hard. By October, he'd finished patching up all the little leaks and holes, restocking the cupboards, and found the house painfully quiet, now that Fleur was gone.

She'd been gone for some time now. It wasn't long after Louis was born that disease took her from his side. There was nothing anyone could do. But without her, the house was so bloody quiet. When there was work to do, it didn't bother him. It was once the kids were off, once the work was done, and he was alone in this house with just memory in all the places she used to be, that things got rough.

It wasn't as if he was grieving any longer, particularly. Several years had passed, after all. There would always be a tender place in his heart where Fleur used to be, but it wasn't painful anymore. His chest didn't constrict when he thought of her. In fact, there were times he would remember her, some bit of silliness, and have such a laugh over it that his family would think he'd gone round the bend.

He'd loved her madly, but he didn't feel like he'd never love again. He just felt this unequivocal sense of apathy. It wasn't even sorrow. It didn't feel that substantial. He was just a little depressed. The healers said that was 'normal, in your situation.'

Situation! Oh, how he hated hearing that word from healers! It was just a delicate way to describe humiliating anotomical difficulties. Difficulties like, for example, impotence. Yes, impotence. That word was no better, but at least it was honest. Ever since Fleur died, he just couldn't get it up. He'd laughed it off at first – after a woman like Fleur, a half-veela at that, it was to be expected that an ordinary witch would lack the usual appeal. He figured over time it would get better; it hadn't. It wasn't as though he hadn't tried. He'd even let his children (busybodies, the lot of them, just like their Gran!) set him up on a few dates. He'd liked one or two of the witches, too. There had even been a perfectly charming muggle woman. He had no trouble with dating, nor with idle flirtation, but once things got to that inevitable moment, nothing. Even masturbation failed to rouse the sleeping dragon. It was frustrating, because he used to be so easy to tempt, especially with that bit of wolf in him. Fleur had often teased him about it. But now, after so long without, it had come to the point he sometimes looked into the mirror and wondered who was staring back at him, because it was surely not Bill Weasley. He knew these matters tamed with age, but still, he was not so old a man, not old enough to have lost it completely, not old enough to blame it on being a single father either.

It was because he had nothing left to blame that when the healers said a bit of depression was normal in his 'situation' that he had to dig his fingernails deep into the palm of his hand to keep himself from cursing the lot of them, and it was because he had nothing left to blame that a fag and a bottle of whiskey at half past ten in the evening was cold comfort.

As he was drowning in his own misery, the bell chimed.

'At this hour?' Bill thought irritably. Between getting up and reaching the door, irritation gave way to paternal worry. It was 10:30 at night. That had to mean some manner of emergency. And, if it was an emergency, it had to be family. What if something had happened at school? It was true they weren't at war any longer, but even regular wizardry could be dangerous if bungled badly enough. He threw the door open violently, blinked at who he found on the other side.

“Heya!”

“Oh. It's just you. I almost had a heart attack. At least firecall if you're coming by.”

Charlie Weasley wrinkled his nose and pushed into the cottage. “Is that any way to greet your favorite brother you crotchety old man?” he complained as he set down two large paper bags and a duffel.

“When he's trying to give me a heart attack it is,” Bill retorted even as he pulled Charlie into a huge embrace. His heart was still pounding. It really was his favorite brother, and he was happy to see him. He was even happier that there were no midnight emergencies with his children. “I thought maybe one of the kids was in trouble.”

Charlie laughed and ruffled Bill's hair. “You're such a mum.”

“Shut up, brat. Not like I had a choice. What's with the luggage? Planning an extended holiday?”

“Well, why not? I never take more than two or three days at a time, usually 'round the holidays. Over the years it's built up. Might as well use a bit of it. Dad was saying the cottage needed some patching. Thought maybe you could use some help while I'm about,” Charlie answered as he pulled piles of food and drink out of the bags – fish and chips that smelled heavenly, some manner of tart, and more liquor than Bill's coffee table could hold.

“Oh. That. It's already finished,” Bill replied blandly, summoning silver and napkins from the kitchen and dropping himself heavily back to the couch.

Charlie sighed.

“What?” Bill asked.

“You used to talk to me is all.”

“I still talk to you. All the bloody time, in fact. You were just here last month begging me to make you blueberry pie. I don't know why you didn't ask mum. She makes it better.”

“You look cuter in an apron,” Charlie joked. “And, you know very well what I mean. Not just small talk, but about everything. You used to talk to me about things that worried you. You're still bothered.”

“It's old hat at this point,” Bill said, waving his hand absently. “There's nothing to say that hasn't already been said.”

“There's plenty to say,” Charlie appealed, filling Bill's cup. “You just don't want to say it.”

Bill took the tankard without thinking and knocked it back. He didn't know what he was drinking but it had a wild sort of taste, like a late summer storm at the shore mixed with cinnamon, mint and a dash of something sweet. Grenadine, maybe. Whatever it was, it was strong. He didn't hesitate when Charlie poured him another. “What am I drinking?” he finally asked.

“Something good,” Charlie replied with a playful grin.

“I could figure that much on my own, thanks,” Bill drawled, drowning his so-called misery with half the second glass.

“They drink it on the reserve,” Charlie shrugged. “Light a bonfire, get pissed, then dance.”

Bill Chuckled. “Like a bunch of seventeen year old gits.”

“Sometimes, it's good to feel young again,” Charlie answered. “If only for a night.” He held out his hands to his brother and smirked. “Come on, old man, dance with me.”

“You're daft,” Bill scoffed. “I've not danced in ages.”

“All the more reason, then,” Charlie replied, flicking his wand at the radio on Bill's mantle a few times to flip through his brother's favorites and find some music. “Bloody hell, Bill. All you listen to is Quidditch and the news anymore. No wonder you've become such a morose fucker.”

Bill shrugged and knocked back the rest of his drink. “Been busy is all, and the kids moan about my taste. My ears must be getting old, because theirs just sounds like noise, so far as I can tell.”

“Ah! Here's something! Do you remember this?” Charlie swayed his hips and crooned, “Been a puppet, pirate, a poet, a pauper, a pawn and a king. Been up and down and over and out and I know one thing: each time that I find myself flat on my face I pick myself up and get back in the race!” He grinned. “You remember, right? How we used to sneak into the muggle clubs? Dance and rock n'roll all night? Pick up the lasses?”

“You snagged more blokes, if I remember right,” Bill replied with a bemused smile. Charlie always eased the weight on his shoulders so easily with just a carefree smile and times long since dead.

“Still do,” Charlie waggled his brow.

Bill reached out for a bottle, but Charlie grabbed his hand before it reached its destination and pulled him to his feet. He stumbled with the burlier man to the empty space between the table and the fireplace.

“You wanted to hit on the blokes, too, but you were too busy trying to be perfect to admit it,” Charlie quipped.

“Bollocks,” Bill spat.

“Is it?” Charlie asked more seriously, placing Bill's hand on his him and swinging him playfully about. “You thought I never noticed the way you looked at that one bloke we saw all the time, but I noticed. It was the blond with the dimples and the fat arse.”

“You mean Elliott?” Bill asked. The room was swaying. He felt more like the room was moving than he was. He blinked. Only two drinks? His footwork was already a disaster. He'd stepped on Charlie's toes twice, but Charlie had pretended not to notice.

“Hah!” Charlie declared victoriously. “You know exactly who I meant, see? You just identified a bloke by his arse, big brother.” He grinned. “Well, don't be too down about not snatching him up. He was a bum shag. Prick like a quill, and bent to top it off!”

“Charlie!”

“What? You can't get mad about it now. I gave you every chance. I even shagged his pimply friend so you could have some time alone, but you didn't do shite. I only took my turn when I was sure you weren't going to.”

Bill's red face said more than his mouth could, and Charlie laughed, dipping him like a woman, before he could get too riled up about it.

'Agh!' Bill thought incoherently. It was so warm. His heart was pounding and he couldn't seem to keep his eyes focused. Only Charlie's voice, and Charlie's laughing face – they seemed so intense, like the rest of the world just didn't matter by comparison.

“As if I'd be angry about that,” Bill scoffed finally. He was though, a bit. He had been curious, so to speak, but he'd never experimented. Never. 'Maybe I should have,' he thought. Somehow he had the feeling his life would be very different now if he had.

“Bill, it's just me,” Charlie said in such a serious tone that Bill had to pause to see if he was imagining it. “We don't keep secrets, remember?”

“Well, maybe I fancied him a bit, but it's ancient history,” Bill conceded.

“Maybe it's not,” Charlie replied seriously.

“What are you getting at?” The world snapped back into focus with those words. They weren't dancing anymore, but his heart was still pounding, and his breath felt thin, and he was feverish. What the hell was in that drink?

“Bill, don't you think maybe your body is trying to tell you something?”

“Wh-what?!”

“You said it yourself, Bill. Fleur was half-veela; she was different.”

“Don't joke like that. I loved her madly. Besides which, I've had plenty of other girlfriends.”

“None that held your interest long,” Charlie countered. “I'm not saying what you and Fleur had wasn't special. I am saying that maybe she was the exception, not the rule. She was an exceptional woman in every way. Even I thought she was brilliant, and I can count the women I've fancied in my life on one hand with fingers to spare.”

“She was,” Bill answered softly. “There was really no comparison for her.”

“She was exceptional enough that maybe it's impossible to go back to pretending you want something you don't, now that she's gone.”

“You're barking. I'm not...”

“Like me? There's no shame in it, you know.”

“Of course I know! I'm not saying...! Merlin, Charlie, you know I don't think that! How many blokes have I set you up with over the years? You're not being fair. I'm just different from you is all.”

“Sure you are. You wanted kids. You always wanted a family of your own more than anything. Now, you have one. There's no reason to keep forcing yourself. You have something else right now, too, Bill. Haven't you noticed? Has it been so long that you forgot what it feels like?”

The words rang too true. Fleur had given him three wonderful children, even a son, and they were as much a glory as a bother. He'd not trade them for anything, but he didn't care if he ever had another, really. He was basically just looking forward to grandchildren he could spoil rotten at this stage. As for the rest, it took a moment to connect. It had been so incredibly long. His face flushed several shades darker than his hair. Charlie was right. He was hard. He was very hard. Now that he realized what that breathless, fevereish feeling was, it was difficult to ignore. He stared at his brother, and in a moment of perfect clarity thought, 'I could ravage him. I want to ravage him.' The moment dissipated and he snapped back from Charlie's grasp, aghast at his own impulses. “Shit. I. I'm...” He didn't know what he was. Mortified, for one – getting hard like this for his brother, of all people! And, ecstatic, for another, that he still could get hard at all, no matter who it was for. If Charlie was right and he could only get it up for other men, really, Bill felt like maybe that was fine. He doubted anyone would care. “...Sorry,” he finished lamely.

“Don't be,” Charlie said, curling his arms around Bill's middle.

Bill's eyes shot wide at the bulge pressing against his thigh. No way! They were brothers! If Charlie was going to act this way, Bill wouldn't be able to resist that carnal instinct to take him.

“It's a monumental occasion,” Charlie purred against his neck. “We should celebrate.”

Bill bit his lip as he felt Charlie's hand sliding down his zipper. He didn't stop him. He didn't want to. It felt so good – that strong hand freeing his organ from its confines and sliding along his bared flesh. It was so unlike Fleur's delicate hand. It was broad and square will calloused fingers and it felt wonderful. He moaned.

“Stop,” Bill grunted.

“Need some more liquid courage?” Charlie teased.

“No, nothing like that,” Bill replied. “I need the shag so badly, and you've always been so bloody sexy, I'll come to my senses and worry about the repercussions later. But, not here. I'm not a kid anymore. I don't want to do it on the floor. My knees won't stand for it. Let's go upstairs to the bedroom.”

Charlie laughed. “You're such an old fart,” he joked.

“You try raising three kinds on your own, see how young you stay,” Bill groused even as he grabbed Charlie's wrist with one hand, a bottle with the other, and dragged the muscular dragon keeper upstairs.

“You never had to, y'know,” Charlie told him frankly. “I'd have come home in a heartbeat and helped, if you'd asked. But, you're too stubborn. I gave you hundreds of hints.”

Bill pushed Charlie into the bedroom and pulled him into a brutal kiss. Merlin's arse, had he ever been this aroused? He was sure he must have been, but after a decade of nothing happening below the belt, it certainly didn't feel like it. “I could never ask you that. You love your work.”

“You loved yours, too, but you came home because there were other things you loved more. It's the same for me.” Charlie pulled his jumper over his head.

Bill's cock twinged at the sight of him – the broad, furry chest, the charming bit of podge about the middle, those huge biceps and calloused hands, skin that was dappled with tattoos and scars. He was quick to respond in kind and cast his own shirt aside, but it shocked him, the way Charlie's eyes dragged greedily over his torso.

“Charlie, is this really just a holiday?”

“For now,” Charlie answered frankly. “Whether it stays that way is up to you.”

“Charlie...” It was hard to focus on the serious conversation when Charlie was dropping his trousers, though, and moving in to make quick work of Bill's as well, while he was at it.

Charlie kissed him. “I won't press the subject, but I don't like the idea of you being here all alone. I know the family isn't far, but they aren't here, and you need someone here. If you don't want it to be me, then at least find a decent bloke, or get a dog.”

“Kissing a dog isn't nearly as enjoyable as this,” Bill said frankly, pushing Charlie down to the bed now that they were both bare.

“So, you mean...”

“I'll think about it,” Bill replied. “Later.” He bore his shaft down upon Charlie's, eliciting a moan that sounded almost as needy as his own. Charlie bucked up against him, rolled his hips in counterpoint.

Bill crushed his lips down upon his brother's, forced his tongue past pliant lips. He groaned at the delightful feeling of Charlie's strong hands curling into his hair and pressed the younger Weasley's hips to the bed. “I won't last long, especially if you keep that up.”

“Don't care,” Charlie moaned. “I've always wanted this. Could never tell you.” He kissed Bill greedily. “Could never tell anyone. I'm not supposed to love you this way.”

Bill stared down at him in stunned silence. He thought of Charlie's endless stream of empty relationships. He wondered if he was to blame for that. “Stay as long as you want,” Bill blurted. It was an honest feeling. He wanted Charlie with him. He missed him when he wasn't there. Maybe those simple, straight-forward feelings were enough.

Charlie's arms tightened around him as Bill's wand pressed to his entrance and he whispered the proper incantation to prepare him.

Charlie bucked beneath him. “Ah! You bastard! I thought you'd never shagged a bloke before!”

Bill smirked at him. It was such a good glance at the old Bill, like he was coming back to life, that Charlie gasped anew.

“I haven't, but that doesn't mean I've never done it up the arse before. If I got a teen witch pregnant before I was even out of school, mum would have killed me,” Bill answered frankly.

“No wonder you were able to pretend you didn't fancy blokes so long. You did 'em from behind, yeah?”

Bill's face fell. He flushed brightly. How did Charlie know him so well? “They were cuter that way,” Bill muttered. 'I really am a stupid git,' he thought.

“Never mind it. I can't wait any longer, Char.”

“Want me to turn over?” Charlie smirked.

“Not on your life. It'll be harder to kiss you,” Bill replied fervently.

Charlie answered by pulling him down into a rather ferocious one. Bill moaned into it as he lifted Charlie's thighs around his hips. His hands were shaking. He realized it only because he had a bit of trouble positioning himself. Once he managed it, nothing could dwarf the cry of bliss that pulled from somewhere deep in the pit of his stomach as he eased in.

'S-so good!' even his thoughts stuttered. He'd needed it so badly. He forgot how miraculous it felt! Tight heat coiled around him. Pulsing. A warm body wriggled beneath him. Hot lips - feverish against his own. And, this was Charlie! Beautiful, sweet, enticing Charlie, who he'd only pretended he didn't adore in all the wrong ways and most of the right ones. His burly Charlie – the epitome of all a man ought to be. Strong, sexy, playful, devoted Charlie. Charlie would always be beside him, even if he tried to chase him away.

He was intensely disappointed, really, when after only a few minutes, the pleasure overwhelmed him and he filled his brother with the evidence of his lust. Disappointed by his lack of stamina, he dropped his head against Charlie's shoulder.

“Don't you dare apologize,” Charlie purred into his ear. “After so long, it's only natural.”

'He always knows exactly what I'm thinking,' Bill thought as he caught his breath. He kissed Charlie several times before slipping out and curling against his side. “I'll see it through,” he said.

Charlie groaned when Bill wrapped his long fingers around his cock and started stroking him towards completion. Bill kissed his lips, his throat, left marks along his collar. Charlie bucked into his hand and moaned his name.

Bill stroked harder until he came, and when he came, even if it was only a hand job, Charlie cried out so loudly that he nearly lost his voice.

They laid together in silence for a while.

“Promise me we'll do that again,” Charlie said.

“Merlin, I hope so,” Bill answered breathlessly. He wanted to do it again, with Charlie especially, several more times, at least, and he wanted it to last longer. He wanted to make Charlie beg for mercy and tease him. He wanted to be the old Bill again. He wasn't there yet, but he was sure he was much closer than he'd ever dared to hope.

“What was that liquor you gave me?” Bill asked.

“Huh? Oh! It's nothing particular, no magical properties, if that's what you're thinking. The word they have for it translates sort of loosely as 'honesty'. They've an old folktale, but they say when you drink it, your true self comes out. That's true of most liquor though, don't you think?”

“Only if you drink enough of it,” Bill replied languidly. “But, I'm glad I did.”

“You're really alright with my staying?”

“It's up to you,” Bill answered, laying back and lacing his fingers behind his head. “We'd have to be careful. Mum would throw a fit if she found out about this.”

“We've always been close. No one will suspect a thing, so long as you can keep your hands off of me in public.”

“Mn,” Bill yawned. “It's going to be tough.”

Five Years Later...

“Hngh. Aah! A-again?! Already?! You're such a dirty old man. I'm still recovering from breakfast, you know. A-aaaahhh! And lunch, and cocktaiiillls!...”

“Cocktails were brilliant,” Bill purred in Charlie's ear. “And, don't call me a dirty old man. You're the one not wearing any pants.”

“Only because you didn't give me the chance to put them on,” Charlie groaned, bucking back against Bill's intrusion. They shouldn't be doing this here. He knew they shouldn't, but Bill was completely insatiable! He had been since their first night; it was as if he was making up for lost time. The next morning they were at it again, and it sometimes felt like they'd not stopped since. Five years had passed, and they were still sneaking about like a pair of wily kids, in the garden shed behind the Burrow, making the walls shake and praying no one would notice. “You do know – h-aaahhh! That it's your daughter's wedding day, right?”

“Of course. Mum said I was in the way and kicked me out of the kitchen.”

Charlie moaned loudly as Bill slammed into his prostate. Merlin, he was close! “That's nostalgic,” he panted, remembering a similar scene at Bill's own wedding.

“I got bored, so I came to find you. They're all flitting about like Cornish Pixies. No one will notice we're missing for at least an hour. I intend to make good use of the time.” He enunciated his point with a sharp thrust that left Charlie breathless.

“I just remembered why I love you so much,” Charlie gasped, pushing back against the deep intrusion.

“Just my cock, eh?”

“Well, it certainly helps,” he groaned.

Just when he thought he was about to come, the shed door swung open. They both froze. It was Louis, expression completely disinterested in their antics. “Gran wants to know where you put the confetti for the balloons,” he asked flatly.

“...top left cupboard...” Bill said slowly. 'Oh.' His mind blanked. There wasn't a curse strong enough to utter under the current circumstances.

“Okay. Thanks,” Louis replied, already starting to close the shed door again.

“Um, Louis, this...”

Louis rolled his eyes. “Dad, please. We've known you and Uncle Charlie have been shagging for years. Everybody knows. It's completely obvious and nobody cares. Just finish it up before four or Vici will have your head.”

The shed door closed and the two startled men couldn't move for a long few minutes from the shock. Charlie was the first to come back to the present. He laughed.

“What's so funny!?” Bill demanded, aghast that his son had just walked in on them in the middle of it! Worse yet, everybody knew?!

“He's your son, alright!” Charlie joked. “He's practically got, 'progeny of Bill Weasley' written on his forehead.”

“Shut up, Charlie.”

“Make me.”

“You think I can't?”

“I think you'll tr-aah aaahhhh! Th-that's cheating!” Charlie gasped as Bill twisted his nipple sharply. The bastard knew how much he liked that! He was always using it against him! “Haahngh hhnngghhh! Aaah!”

“You were saying?” Bill purred, angling his thrust into Charlie's prostate.

“Harder!” Charlie gasped. “Bill! Please!”

“That's what I thought,” Bill replied.

Nobody cared, huh? It was almost a pity; keeping it secret had been quite an adventure, and Bill had always rather fancied a bit of adventure. Well, no matter. He and Charlie were sure to find plenty of ways to entertain themselves without it.

~The End~
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That's Life