InsaneJournal

Safe and Dangerous (Bill/Charlie, NC-17)
Title: Safe and Dangerous
Pairing: Bill/Charlie
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 1620
Warnings: See pairing.
Disclaimer: Not mine. JKR's.
Summary: Bill is the only one who can make Charlie feel safe again.
Notes: Originally posted to LJ on 2/2/07 for mariamme's birthday.


Charlie lay in his bunk wide awake, listening to the rest of his family dropping off to sleep, their breathing evening out, the rustling of bedclothes ceasing, and murmured conversations dropping off.

But Charlie himself was nowhere near sleep.

He trembled, still, nearly imperceptibly, though he wouldn't have admitted it. His hands were so cold in the summer's night, and Charlie turned onto his side and shoved them between his thighs to warm them.

Bill was still up and moving about. Charlie heard the scrape of chairs against the tent's floor as Bill pushed them in, then the rattle and protestations of chess pieces as Bill swept them off the table and into the box. Bill moved all around the main room of the tent, tidying up and humming softly to himself.

Charlie supposed that was one way to calm down.

When Bill finally entered the room they shared, he didn't ascend to the top bunk, but crawled right underneath the blankets of the bottom one with Charlie, putting his arms around his brother and squeezing him tightly.

Charlie returned the embrace, and he put his feet between Bill's, and he just let himself breathe and felt Bill's exhalations against his neck and Bill's pounding heart against his chest.

Neither brother said anything for a long while. Charlie just clung to Bill and Bill rubbed one strong hand across Charlie's back, and Charlie shivered.

"I was really scared," Charlie whispered, breaking the silence. "So fucking scared," he repeated, and Bill nodded against Charlie's shoulder.

"I know," Bill murmured, "So was I. If I ever lost you, I—"

"Don't," said Charlie, "Just—don't."

"I'm serious," said Bill, "Dunno what I'd do." He paused, then kissed Charlie's temple. "You're my best friend," he said then, almost too low for Charlie to hear.

And Charlie knew that that was true, and he knew that he meant just as much to Bill as Bill meant to him.

"You don't have to say it," murmured Charlie, now carding his fingers through Bill's hair.

"Yeah, I do," said Bill quietly. He sat up then, too quickly, wand already in hand, and cast a silencing spell around their little room.

"God, Charlie," he continued in his normal voice, "What if—Charlie, those Death Eaters didn't give a damn who they hurt. What if you'd got in their way?" He grabbed both Charlie's hands in his, and Charlie sat up, too, enveloping his brother in a crushing hug.

"But I didn't," he said, and Bill put his head on Charlie's shoulder, wearily.

"They didn't get me," Charlie continued, "And they didn't get you. And Ronnie and Harry and Dad and everyone is safe. We're all safe." He knew, of course, that Bill knew this already, but he was saying it just as much for his own benefit as for his brother's.

"Safe," he repeated, his voice low. It became almost a sort of chant, like the calming mantras the dragon keepers used on the females during hatching season. Safe was as sure as breath, as smooth as his brother's hair, as confident as heartbeats.

"Come here," said Bill, lifting his head suddenly, interrupting Charlie's mantra.

"I am here." Charlie was as close to his brother as he possibly could be without being—well—

"No," said Bill, his voice dropping low, "I mean come here." And he took Charlie's face in his hands, and he kissed him.

"Yes," hissed Charlie, and he opened his mouth against Bill's, and he dug his fingers down to the roots of Bill's hair.

"Fuck," gasped Charlie as Bill moved his head and worked his mouth on Charlie's neck, sucking and nipping at the sensitive skin there. Charlie tipped his head back, exposing more of his freckled throat to Bill's searching mouth.

"Not here," Charlie protested, but his voice was weak and wavering, and he knew that Bill knew he didn't really mean it, especially as he tipped his head back even further, allowing his brother to explore more and more of his skin. Fucking in the tent was no more and no less dangerous than fucking at the Burrow, with lots of curious ears about, or in any of the hotels where desk clerks had given the brothers disbelieving looks when they checked out of their room after only a couple of hours. And they both knew it—and Charlie knew they both wanted it anyway.

"'S dangerous," gasped Charlie as Bill ran a hand down his broad chest, then down between his legs.

"Thought you liked danger, dragon boy," teased Bill, his voice a low rumble, as he pressed Charlie to the bed, his hand firm on Charlie's growing erection.

"Bill." There was nothing more to say; there were no more protestations to be made. Bill was hard now, too, rutting against Charlie's leg.

"You told me once," said Bill, mouthing a wet trail along Charlie's collarbone, "That you got hard the first time you came face-to-face with a dragon. You remember?"

"F-fuck. Yes," stammered Charlie. Bill's hand was in his pants now, teasing precome from Charlie's slit. Charlie sucked in a tense breath and squeezed his eyes closed.

"Did you get hard out there, just now? Tell me, Charlie. Tell me true." Bill's big hand closed around Charlie's thick cock and paused. Charlie didn't answer, only gasped helplessly and tried to move against Bill's powerful grip.

"It was dangerous, Charlie, really dangerous. Did you get hard? Tell me true, and I'll make you come," whispered Bill right against Charlie's ear, and Charlie whined—

"Tell me, Charlie. It's okay," Bill cooed.

—and Charlie broke.

"Yes," Charlie blurted, and Bill's hand moved, finally, on his cock, and he sucked in a grateful breath. "Yes," he said again, louder, and Bill's hand went faster. "Was—was scared as hell, c—couldn't move, and, fuck, Bill, I got hard, and I—" He choked on the rest of his confession.

"I'll take care of you," Bill promised. He shuffled around a bit, his hand never leaving Charlie's cock, and Charlie knew Bill was shoving his jeans and his pants down to free his own trapped erection.

"And I'll take care of you," replied Charlie, the familiar promise coming out strangled and breathy. He felt the slide of Bill's cock on his thigh, dry and slow and tangled at first, then faster, smoother, as Bill's precome aided his thrusts, and Charlie raised his leg, pressing against Bill, and Bill gasped.

"Yes," Bill said, and Charlie didn't know if Bill was saying yes, just like that, or yes, we'll take care of each other, but Charlie didn't really care which it was because Bill was saying yes, and that was all that mattered.

"Yes," said Charlie as Bill moved against him, "Yes, Bill, yes," and he didn't know what he was saying yes to, either, but wondering got lost in the excitement of movement and breath and brothers, slick sliding and freckled flesh and Bill's breath hot in Charlie's ear.

Charlie clutched at his brother, one hand tangled in his hair, the other marking the skin at Bill's hip with fingerprint bruises.

Charlie knew how strong his hands were. He knew he always left bruises.

"Gonna come," moaned Bill, moving faster and ever more desperately against Charlie's thigh, and Charlie gripped harder. "You too, Charlie, please."

And Charlie nodded, as if Bill would see it, and bit his lip and fucked Bill's hand harder, harder, and the hot spurt of Bill's release on his thigh sent Charlie over the edge. He pulled sharply at Bill's hair and strained against Bill's fist, and Charlie came, too, pulsing and swearing and arching off the bed.

"Fuck," Charlie panted, and the brothers collapsed together on Charlie's mattress and neither spoke until their racing hearts had slowed and their breathing had returned to regular puffs of heat on each other's necks.

"Fuuuuuuuuck," said Charlie, stretching the word into a satisfied, satiated, saturated sort of moan. He fumbled for his wand, but Bill was faster, and he spelled them both clean with a couple of swift flicks.

Bill sat up, then, pulling up his pants and his faded jeans, then he leaned over to plant a kiss on Charlie's forehead.

"Safe now?" Bill's lips were warm against Charlie's sweat-cooled skin.

Charlie nodded, turning onto his side and curving his body against Bill.

"Good," said Bill, and he stood, turning and leaning his head against the top bunk, his hands gripping the edge of his own mattress loosely. He looked down at Charlie for several long moments, until Charlie reached up and shoved at Bill's hip.

"Go to sleep, you great sentimental girl," he said, turning onto his other side, his back to his brother. After a moment, Charlie heard Bill move away and undress and climb into the top bunk, the ancient mattress protesting under his weight.

"'Night, dragon boy." Bill's voice drifted down after a minute or two from the top bunk into the haze of Charlie's almost-sleep.

"'Night, Billy," mumbled Charlie, the old nickname slipping out as it sometimes did at times like this, times when the world was a little too real and a little too dangerous even for Charlie, bravest of the brave. Times like this, when only Bill could make Charlie feel safe enough.

Bill chuckled softly above him.

"Who's the sentimental one now?" he asked.

"Shut up," said Charlie against his pillow, but his smile infected his voice, and he reckoned Bill was probably smiling, too, up there in the darkness.

And soon, deep in the cave of his bedclothes, Charlie found sleep, or maybe sleep found Charlie, but either way he slept, his brother above him, holding strong the barrier between safe and dangerous.