again, I think Tapestry was the one who said "George, he's so the gay one". now it's our fanon. by lise.

 

Fred scratched his stomach. "I don't think I'm gay."

George was laying across his legs, feet in the air, reading a comic book. he kicked Fred's side. "What now?"

"Stop that." Fred grabbed George's ankles, and started rubbing them absently. The ankle bones were soft. "I mean. Is Lee a nice piece of ass?"

George shuffled around and Fred pulled his knees up so George could curl up on his side beside him. "Lee?" He looked thoughtful. "Yeah, I suppose. Nice arse, good chest. Hung well, y'know."

"See," and Fred let George's ankles go so that George could lay on him properly, one leg thrown over Fred's knees and his head on Fred's chest. He started rubbing the nape of George's neck, then. Again, soft. "And I don't notice, like when we're changing."

"News flash: you like birds."

Fred frowned. He'd been thinking about it off and on for the last few days. "Yeah, I think I do."

"So?" George still had the comic book in his hand, and was half-skimming it still. "You want to come out? Want to announce to the world that you like girls?"

"Well, but." Fred bit his lip. "What's your favorite color?"

"Red."

"Yeah, me too." So soft. And George needed to wash his hair, it was getting a bit greasy. "Favorite quiddich team?"

George sighed, and put the comic book down. "You know this, you stupid boy, you know everything about me, up to and including where I like--"

"Right," Fred said hastily, because the last thing he needed was George talking about having a shower together, the water running down both of them and the shower stall pressing against his back, damp and chilly while George -- he coughed. "Right, I know everything. Because my favorite color's red too, and we both play Beaters, and look at us."

George squinted, head tilted to stare into Fred's face. "Wow, I just realized. You look just like me!"

"Shut it," and he tried not to laugh. "I'm serious here."

"So am I. We look really similar. You think we're related?"

"We're the same," Fred said soberly, "up to and including our favorite foods, hair color, the way we laugh and marks." And okay, the marks were no accident since usually they copied off each other, but, "we're identical, and not just to look at."

George had an eyebrow raised, and wrapped his arm around Fred a little more comfortably. His hand ended up resting on Fred's shoulder, fingers curled protectively around his collarbone. "Yeah," he said, "I guess we are."

"Except," and Fred waved the arm that was rubbing george's neck around helplessly. "I like girls."

It was something deep and Fred was worried. Truth be told it scared him. He opened his mouth to try and explain, the scare, and George shimmied up a little, planted a kiss on Fred's jaw. "I like you," he mumbled, already sticking his hand down Fred's pants. "You're quite the handsome devil."