FIC: Something Like Comparing Apples and Oranges... (George/Fred, R) Title: Something Like Comparing Apples and Oranges, Except the Apples Are Peanut Butter and the Oranges Are Jelly and You're Not Bread Author:la_dissonance Established pairing(s): George/Angelina Infidelity pairing(s): George/Fred Rating: R Genre: Humorish Word Count: 3000 Warnings: het, twincest, voyeurism Summary: It was a stupid plan to begin with, and Angelina should have known better than to suggest it. But honestly, it's not her fault things went so spectacularly wrong. That was all the twins. Notes: Written for the Fabulous No-Pressure Laissez-Faire Challenge, prompt 40: It wasn't going exactly to plan. Thanks to juliandahling for the beta!
Angelina wasn't sure if she'd chosen the right Weasley twin after all.
Well, perhaps 'choose' was too strong a word. She'd thought they were as good as interchangeable at first: when she'd agreed to go to the Yule ball with Fred a couple months ago, she'd hardly bothered to look over and check that it was Fred. And then when they'd done this strange little switch on her the morning of the next Hogsmeade visit, she'd given them bit of a hard time but hadn't really minded. Interchangeable, right? She was good friends with the pair of them (all right, the unitary entity that was Fredandgeorge); they had equal boyfriend potential as far as she could tell.
And George had turned out to be a pretty decent boyfriend. He'd made a point of asking her to accompany him to the astronomy tower that night, too—which, by Hogwarts standards, made them officially a couple—and acted, well, pretty decent to her in the intervening time. The only difference she could see between him and his brother was a) he wasn't the one who'd asked her to the Yule ball, b) he spent slightly more time with her now than Fred did, and, of course, c) the shagging. She didn't shag Fred. Most likely.
Anyway, she'd been quite sure of all these things until only a few minutes ago, when the twins started fighting over her. No, not like that.
Perhaps it would be helpful to begin at the beginning.
- - -
The fateful conversation had come after they'd been shagging, as all such conversations did, for the simple reason that it was the only time George stayed still for more than five minutes.
"Did you and Fred ever mess around when you were kids?"
"What?" The force with which he uttered that one word was astonishing considering the post-coital bliss that had had him in an iron grip not a second before.
"You know, like, mess around. Don't tell me you were never curious... I tried to get my sister to try stuff with me, but she said she was too much older and she'd feel creepy. But you'n Fred are the same age, and you know, twins... I would have done if I were you, anyway."
"Well," said George.
"'Cause that would have been really hot," Angelina said, her mind's eye suddenly overtaken by images of mirror bodies curled around each other, tentative and hot and rushing headlong into shapes they'd never taken before.
George grunted.
"Well?"
"Oh?" He cleared his throat and regained a measure of his usual aplomb. "Well, I can't say we never experimented – once or twice – a long, long time ago..."
"I bet you did." Angelina turned to face him fully and ran her fingertips over his chest. "Which one of you topped? Was it you? Or Fred?"
"Angelina!" George exclaimed. "I'm shocked that you would even insinuate such a thing."
She crooked an eyebrow.
"We took turns, like perfect gentlemen."
Angelina laughed and tickled his sides and he laughed too. She paused and cocked her head to one side. "Hey, what would you say to putting on a little show for old times' sake? Think Fred would be game?" She couldn't, in all honesty, say that the idea had just occurred to her. A girl's allowed to have her fantasies.
"I, what?!"
"I think you heard me. You. Fred. Show. Me being the audience, obviously."
"But I just said, all that was a million years ago. Didn't I just say that?"
Angelina nodded.
"So let me get this straight, you want me and Fred to re-enact our earliest, most pathetic, pre-Hogwarts fumblings, and you'll think this is hot?"
"George, dearest, you're babbling. And exaggerating. And yes, I'm sure it will be terribly, horribly hot."
George gave her a Look. She was still in the process of cataloguing all his Looks, but she was pretty sure she remembered this one from their platonic days, and it meant Just Shut Up And Stop Talking About That Already.
"Look, at least ask him, okay?"
"Okay, fine. I'll talk to him if it'll make you happy. But that doesn't mean anything will happen, all right? He'll think this is exactly as ridiculous an idea as it is."
"You're a doll, George." Angelina rewarded him with a sound kiss to the mouth.
- - -
A few days later, George handed her Harry's invisibility cloak—if he still thought loaning his cloak out to the twins was a good idea, then that boy was a slow learner indeed—and told her to go to their dormitory and hide behind Lee's bed.
It soon became apparent why the invisibility cloak was necessary: George had not talked to Fred yet. Their voices echoed in the stairwell as they ascended. "What, did the shipment come already? This has got to be good if you can't even show me in the common room." The door opened with a bang, and suddenly George pressed Fred back against it and kissed him fiercely, cutting off whatever he'd been about to say next.
Oh, thought Angelina, startled. He never kisses me like that. He was kissing his brother as if he hadn't seen him in months, as if he weren't the person he already spent nearly every waking minute with. Okay, Angelina had imagined it being hot—but this was hot. It gave the word definitions Angelina hadn't previously known it had. Damn.
But then Fred was struggling, pushing George away—"Fuck, George, what do you think you're doing? We can't—" His words were muffled in his brother's lips, but he managed to throw him off again, and paced over to the window. "What are you thinking? What about Angelina?"
Yes, what about her? What about not stopping right when it was getting good?
"Come on, Fred," George said, breathing heavily. "She never has to know. Just once, for old times' sake?" Fred didn't answer, and George came up behind him and put his hands on his brother's shoulders. "I've missed you. It's not the same with only her."
"Well, you should have bloody thought of that before you started dating her, then."
"Fred..."
"What was it you told me before you did it? 'Oh, if you're not going to ask her out again, Fred, I guess I will? Can't go on shagging your own brother forever, you know?' Sound familiar?"
"You know I didn't mean it," George said, his mouth against his twin's neck now. Oh, he was good at that, Angelina knew. She'd be entertaining serious thoughts of giving in right now if she were Fred. "She's just a bit of fun—I didn't mean forever, forever... If I'd have thought, well..."
Fred threw off George's arms and turned to face him. "Well, what? You'd have cheated on her sooner? That's no way to treat a wo—anyone."
And this was where Angelina started to think she might have chosen the wrong twin (if 'chose' was the right word). Her boyfriend wasn't the one talking about the right way to treat people and the importance of being faithful right now, no, that would be the other one. All right, granted, George was just her bit of fun too, and she had put him up to this besides, so it wasn't like she had the right to get angry or anything. But still.
George went in to kiss Fred again, and Fred turned his head aside.
"Go back to your girlfriend," Fred said, with some difficulty.
"No," said George. "Forget her. I want you."
As far as hot, private shows went, this wasn't exactly going to plan. Worse, Angelina wasn't sure if she wanted it to got to plan anymore. This did not look like something she should have started—or instigated, or provoked, or whatever she'd done, not at all.
"You're making this so much harder than it has to be." George leaned against his brother, pressing their fronts together, and Angelina could imagine how that felt. "Please, Fred, please." He was stroking his back now. Damn it, he was good at that too. "I just want you right now."
He kissed Fred again, and Angelina didn't blame him at all for finally giving in. She could see it on his face, that moment when his eyebrows unclenched and his expression went slack. And then, quickly, he nestled his head in his brother's shoulder and ground his hips against George's, once, and George ground back, and it was the hottest fucking thing Angelina had ever seen in her life.
Oh, she was fucked.
She looked away, automatically, when clothes started coming off—it didn't quite seem like something she should be watching, the way they were so absorbed in each other. But then she forced herself to look back, because, to hell with it, they owed her. Or at least George did. Somehow, in some way she wasn't prepared to examine too closely right now.
They collapsed onto the next bed over from the one she was hiding behind in a pile of limbs that was completely disorienting to look at from this angle. Angelina could make out a knee, and was that a back, or a thigh? There was a grunt and they tumbled, wrestling almost, and she gave up.
Knowing this was the only time in her life she'd ever get to see this, Angelina tried to pay attention, but all she got in the end were a handful of discrete images, and she could only vaguely tell you what order they went in after it was all done. Probably because once the boys were both naked Angelina had an impossible time telling one from another, but also because—well. Just because.
There was the pad of a thumb, sweeping across a swollen lower lip and then pushing inside the mouth, being sucked hard, noisily—it really should have been disgusting, the noise that made—soon to be replaced by three other fingers, and the lips stretched around them—
Much the same way Fred's lips stretched around the head of George's cock some time later, cheeks hollowing out as he sucked. She knew it was George on the receiving end because he'd cried out Fred's name as Fred had licked that first wet stripe down his length, bucking his hips in a way that gave one justifiable concern about the future welfare of Fred's nose. And then noses ceased to matter because there was her boyfriend getting his cock sucked by someone else, right there in front of her, and it just wasn't fair. Though he had to have forgotten she was even in the room by now, right?
The blur as Fred flipped George over, she remembered that piece really well: the dig of fingers into shoulder, heaving weight, and they were all of a sudden over, George lying with his arse in the air and Fred pressing against his back. Maybe just because it looked so different than it felt when you were doing the flipping, but maybe she'd never felt anything like that either—rough, and urgent, as if what you were after was way more than an orgasm or two and you had to have it now. The actual fucking, she remembered less well—there was pistoning of hips, and Fred's head falling into the hollow of George's back, and George looking like having his face smooshed into the sheets was the closest approximation of bliss he'd ever experienced—but these were all mere words in her memory, compared with that flip.
Then there was that indecipherable tangle of bodies again, though this time Angelina could sort of make out a pair of hands circling a face. She could definitely make out the half-moan, half sigh as they started snogging again. It was at this time, suddenly, that Angelina realized she wanted to escape.
She was afraid they might lie like that together forever, but eventually one of them murmured, "What if Lee comes back?" and the other answered, "Right," and the drapes on the bed were drawn with the flick of a wand. Angelina waited a moment to make sure it was really safe, and then crept across the floor silently and eased open the door. She stopped in Harry's happily deserted dorm to drop off his cloak at the foot of his bed, and then wandered down to the common room.
The common room was far too loud. And plus, Angelina wasn't sure at this point whether she'd be able to engage in conversation without blurting out Fred fucked George, he fucked him, Merlin, I'm telling you, I saw the whole fucking thing at the earliest possible opening. And she really didn't want to do that.
So she went to take a warm bath instead, where she could replay the images, or block them out, as the case may be.
- - -
A day passed, and Angelina managed to shake the dazed feeling, but she couldn't work out what the best course of action could possibly be. Honestly—there was no graceful resolution for a situation such as this. "Oh, by the way, George, remember how I suggested you shag your brother? Well, I'd rather you not do that any more, if it's all the same; it just got a bit heavy for a while there and I'd actually prefer it if my boyfriend only got that way with me, surprise surprise... Oh, what, you didn't know I was there the whole time? Yeah, I sorta thought you might've forgotten, but I stayed anyway. In for a knut, in for a galleon, right? No. Better to just pretend the whole thing had never happened.
Which turned out to be pretty easy when it came down to it.
"So, you didn't, er, come up to the dorm last night, or anything, did you?" George said.
"Hmm?" Angelina feigned complete ignorance for a split second before deciding anything she said would be far better than anything George could possibly say. "Oh, no, actually not. Katie needed me to revise Herbology with her at the last minute, so..."
"Ah, okay," George said. "You still got Harry's cloak?"
"Nah, gave it back to him."
"Oh. Well, if you want, sometime, I could borrow it again. Or, yeah, we've got these hats we're working on, right?" George's eyes lit up. "They make your head invisible; you could wear one of those if you crouched down real low."
"It's not a big deal," Angelina said. "Really. I'm sure I can live without seeing whatever lurid show the two of you cook up."
"Ah," said George.
And that was the end of it, except it wasn't. It came as a surprise to George when Angelina broke up with him a few days later, and honestly, it was a surprise to her as well. They were shagging, of course, as they were horny and teenagers and going out and that was just what they did—and Angelina looked down at George, who had his eyes half shut and his hands on her thighs, and just couldn't do it anymore. Well, she did it anyway, just for the sake of finishing, but that was beside the point. It wasn't that it was different or anything; it was the same as it had always been (which was pretty darn good). Maybe that was the problem. Or no, it was those fucking mental images, which just wouldn't go away, and this was nothing like those.
That was the problem.
Angelina rolled off once he'd come, and sighed, but being male and therefore stupid, George didn't notice.
"I think we should stop seeing each other," she said, opting for the blunt route.
"Wait, what?"
Angelina sighed again. "Just, I think our relationship has come to its natural end. No hard feelings or anything..."
"Why?" George said, incredulous, and sat up and reached for his pants. Right, this was probably not a conversation best had naked.
Angelina reached for her own underthings, and they ended up having the conversation while facing opposite ways on the bed, words intermittently muffled as they disappeared under a shirt or fished for a sock under the bed.
"It's just run its course. No reason, really." Oh, the reasons she could give. Like, maybe I'm not in the mood for fun anymore, or, it was only fun until I realized you were fucking in love with someone else. If that was even possible—given who the someone else was, she wasn't entirely sure. Maybe they were just confused? But no, that wasn't being fair... Merlin. Whatever it was, she didn't want to be in the middle of it.
"Was it something I did?"
"What? No, honestly, it wasn't anything you did. Why are you fighting me on this?"
"I shouldn't fight? I should just be perfectly fine with my girlfriend dumping me for no reason whatsoever?"
"Yes!" Angelina glared at the drapes and wished she could put her jeans on forcefully without hurting herself. Men! It was impossible.
"I just don't see..."
"There isn't much to see! Look, should two people stick around if they're not really that into each other anymore?"
"Don't see why not." He was trying for that devil-may-care nonchalance she'd loved so much about the twins in the first place. Suddenly it was far from attractive.
"Well, I don't want to, okay?"
"Angelina..."
Angelina groaned. "No, I'm serious. I'm breaking up with you. Bye." She shrugged her school robes on and stepped toward the door. Damn it, she hadn't meant to be so mean about this—you'd think he'd have been glad, seeing as she was doing this mostly for his sake anyway. Not that she could come out and say that.
"Okay, love, have it your way. But if you ever change your mind, let me know. I might consider having you back if you beg hard enough."
Oh, that wasn't even nonchalance; the leer was positively audible in his voice. Angelina rolled her eyes hard and counted to ten. "Good luck figuring things out without me, George." Leave him to figure out what that meant.
Or not. Or whatever. It wasn't her problem anymore.
Mods, could I pretty please have an author tag and some pairing tags? Thanks!