Trial and Error
a/n: because these two are my die hard otp and anything with male lees is just top tier... heavily based on @hypahticklish 's headcanons (which are now also my own) @ticklishraspberries (bc you asked <3)
Fandom: Harry Potter (Post-War Era)
Characters: Bill/Fleur, Charlie
Summary: When being married does not automatically mean Fleur knows everything about her husband.
3998 words
Warnings: minor nsfw
After the war, catching up on the simple things was top priority. For Fleur, that meant sitting out on the porch of Shell Cottage with a cup of coffee in one hand and a book in the other. For Bill, it meant sleeping.
The many nights they had spent worrying, or running around, straight into another fight had been exhausting. And the loss of one of their own had struck deep in the Weasley family. Fred was on Bill's mind a lot, as was to be expected.
Taking a few weeks off of work allowed him to loose track of his own thoughts during the day. He had become quiet, reserved and Fleur couldn't blame him. She knew after a loss that great, Bill would likely never quite be the same, but she gave him the space to process his grief however he needed to.
Bill's day started early, before dawn, as it had become his new routine. He slipped out of bed, planted the gentlest of kisses to Fleur's forehead and left her to sleep some more. He climbed downstairs and stepped out onto the porch with a strong cup of tea, watching the distant horizon grow brighter ever so slowly.
Fixing up the old cottage, which had turned into their permanent home, was the most therapeutic way to get him through the day, Bill found. It reminded him of his teenage years, summers spent at the Burrow, building tree houses and forts out in the woods with his siblings.
By the time Fleur made her way downstairs, the sky was already bright and clear. The windows were open, allowing the cool summer morning breeze to fill the cottage and bring in the sweet, salty scent of the sea.
Fleur smiled as she spotted the steaming cup of coffee on the stove, waiting for her. Sipping at it carefully, she followed the sound of hammering to the back of the house.
Bill was crouched before a pile of wooden planks, methodically nailing one piece to another. Only when he heard the footsteps in the sand approach from behind, did he stop.
"Morning," Fleur greeted him sweetly, running her fingers lovingly through her husbands hair.
Bill smiled up at her, eyes squinted against the bright summer sky to make out her silhouette. "Hi."
Fleur smiled back, gently wiping some sand off his brow where it had stuck to his sweaty skin.
"Did I wake you?" Bill asked, eyes shut so none of the sand could fall into them.
Once the last of the sand was wiped off Bill face, and he was able to look at her again, Fleur shook her head. She gazed over the wooden frame splayed out before them. "What are you making?"
Bill set down the hammer and slowly rose to his feet.
The warm temperatures of the last few days had compelled him to banish all his shirts to the dresser. Fabric sticking to sweaty skin was not the kind of discomfort Bill wanted to deal with at the moment.
Fleur watched him roll his shoulders and stretch out his back after being hunched over for an extended period of time. She was convinced his freckles had doubled since the day before, if that was even possible.
"I remembered you saying it would be nice to keep some chickens," Bill replied, placing his hands on his hips.
Fleur's face broke out into a grin. "I did say that."
Bill looked down at her and couldn't help but be infected by her look of excitement. "Well, there you go."
Fleur wrapped an arm around his waist in a tight hug and planted a kiss against his shoulder. "Do you want some breakfast?"
Bill slung his arms around her, holding her close to his chest. "I would love some breakfast."
They looked at each other with adoration, leaning into each others embrace before kissing, sweet and intimate. Fleur released her grip on him first, pulling away. "Come on then, hungry husband," she teased with a pinch to his stomach.
Bill chuckled and followed her back inside. "Oh, Charlie sent an owl last night. He's heading back to Romania soon and wanted to spend his last couple days here, away from the Burrow."
Fleur smiled at Bill warmly. "Charlie knows he is welcome here any time, yes?"
Bill smiled back. "Already told him we'd be expecting him."
The rest of the morning passed in similar spirit. They made their breakfast, ate it outside where they could overlook the sea, talked when the need for it arose and sat in comfortable silence when it didn't.
Bill returned to his chicken coop and continued his work until the midday sun, which he had been able to avoid on that side of the house until then, finally came burning down on him.
Hot and tired, he took a cool shower, changed into a more comfortable pair of shorts and a t-shirt before settling down on the living room sofa for a nap.
Fleur found him there a little while later, snoring ever so softly. Not wanting to disturb him, she grabbed a cold drink from the fridge and returned to her book.
The story had her so engrossed that only the scuffing sounds of footsteps on wood finally tore her away.
"Bonjour."
She was greeted by a smug but welcoming face.
"Oh, Charlie! I didn't even hear you arrive. C'est bon de te voir." Fleur set her book down and got to her feet swiftly, greeting her brother-in-law with a hug and a kiss to each cheek.
Charlie had to be one of her favourite Weasley siblings. There was just something about the way he spoke to her, and anyone really, that made her feel like she had known him for years. In reality, she could count on one hand the times she had met him. But it was his approachable and easy-going nature, something that reminded her a lot of her first official meeting with Bill, that made her feel completely comfortable with being herself.
Charlie grinned at Fleur as they pulled apart from the hug. Although they were hardly two year apart in age, him and Bill could not be more different. Barely an inch taller than Fleur, who was on the taller side, Charlie was noticeably shorter than his older brother but boxier in his face and shoulders. His work with the dragons, the extensive physical contribution, had made him compact, sturdy, robust. Even the curls of wiry hair, his hazel eyes with more hints of brown than blue, the small gap at the front of his teeth. If it wasn't for the exact same shade of flaming red hair, it was hard to believe these two were related at all.
"What are you doing out here, all on your own?" he asked, giving her arm a warm squeeze.
Fleur gestured her head in the direction of the living room. "He's sleeping," she replied in a low voice.
"Oh, I see," Charlie whispered and a mischievous look slipped onto his face. "Guess that calls for a more advanced brotherly welcome."
Fleur narrowed her eyes at him but couldn't repress a chuckle, although she had no idea what he could mean. She gently slid the door open and a slither of light fell, almost perfectly, onto Bill's sleeping form on the sofa.
They stood in the doorway for a moment, Charlie peeking over Fleur's shoulder only to make a cooing sound.
"I think he doesn't really sleep much at night, so he naps a lot at the moment," Fleur told him, trying not to let her concern seep through too much.
Charlie patted her shoulder as he stepped past her, into the house. "Look at him, so sweet. So innocent. So oblivious." The way Charlie stood over his brother could have been menacing if it wasn't for the fact that Charlie was the complete opposite of menacing.
"Just, don't be mean," Fleur spoke gently, catching Charlie's eyes for a moment as he walked to the end of the sofa, where Bill's feet rested innocently over the arm rest.
Charlie placed a hand over his heart and winked at Fleur. "I'll keep him in one piece, I promise."
He slowly lowered his hand and let a single finger brush against the sole of an unsuspecting foot. It curled, then twitched, followed by a quiet noise of disapproval from Bill.
Charlie smirked and took hold of the other foot's ankle, holding it in place. Biting his lip, he repeated the motion, only this time he increased the pressure with every repetition.
At first it seemed that Bill would sleep through the assault but as an attempt to retract his leg failed, he began to stir awake. Blearily, his eyes fluttered open and fell upon the figure by his feet.
"Charlie?" Bill asked, his voice croaky with sleep.
Charlie grinned. "Hey, there, sleepy bum." He shook his brother's leg some, not letting up on its hold just yet. "Thought, just because you have your own place now, you would be safe?"
Bill rubbed his eyes and lifted his head, his brain taking a couple seconds to catch on. "Oh, come o-"
Before he could even finish the sentence, Charlie had twisted Bill's leg, forcing the rest of his body to flip from its back to its front. With the limited space of the sofa, the only direction for this was onto the floor.
There was a thud, but Bill managed to catch most of his weight with his hands. Now on the ground, his hands pressed flat beneath his shoulder as if about to do a push up. He groaned a little, his forehead thunking against the old rug. "Don't you think we're getting a bit too old- Char-ah-Ah!"
The younger brother had thrown himself on top of Bill in classic dog-pile fashion, except that his hands latched onto the victim's torso. Giggles erupted immediately after a grunt and a yelp. One side was getting pinched and squeezed while the other attempted to shield itself against a vicious armpit attack.
"Finish that sentence and find out how fucked you actually are right now," Charlie warned over Bill's laughter.
Fleur leaned over the back of the sofa, watching the scene unfold with fascination. She would have never guessed her husband to be this ticklish. The biggest reaction she had ever managed to get from him was a chuckle or a shiver whenever she grazed his neck or scrawled on his back with her nails. This was quite a different sight.
It had also been a while since she had heard Bill laugh like this, if ever. She watched Charlie's hands carefully, making sure to memorise his technique for future reference.
The tops of Bill's feet drummed against the floor, elbows flapping uselessly like a flightless bird. "Chaharlie!"
Charlie laughed at his brother's predicament, rough fingers taking his ribs apart casually. "What?"
"Stoh-aH-ahp!"
Charlie pretended to think but did not ease up. "I don't know. You seem so happy. I would hate to ruin that for you."
"You prihick!"
Bill jerked, trying to throw his brother off. However, wrangling young dragons for years gave Charlie quite the advantage. Using his knee to keep one of Bill's leg pinned in place was enough to retain the upper hand.
"I don't think sooo," Charlie sang with a smug grin.
"Fine," Bill huffed and reached behind him with both hands.
At first, Charlie thought he was just grappling at him, trying to pull him off but as soon as he felt one finger connect with bare skin, he knew he was doomed.
"Nononono, William, absolutely n-AHH!"
Bill had managed to find his brother's hips and held onto them in a claw-like grip. The tips of his fingers pushed upwards in minimal circular motions, forcing their way into the muscle tissue.
Incapacitated by the intense sensation, Charlie's attack faltered as he refocused his energy on protecting himself. With a warbled cry, he wriggled off Bill's back and onto the rug with a soft thud.
For a moment it seemed that an unspoken truce had fallen between them as they lay next to each other, panting. But only a moment later, Bill shot up to his knees, lunging for his brother's throat.
If the strangled cries weren't intermingled with strings of colourful swears and spluttering laughter, Fleur would have been convinced she was witnessing a murder. Upon closer inspection it became clear that Bill's fingers were not, in fact, crushing his brother's windpipe but rather kneading at his prominent trap muscles.
Charlie was incapable of forming words. He had managed to bring one knee between them before the attack, which kept Bill from flattening him, like Charlie had done to him before. But still, rather uselessly, it was just being crushed against his chest.
"You win!" Charlie was finally able to get out, his hands clutching Bill's wrists desperately. The fingers halted. "You win... Plehease... It's too much."
Bill grinned, self-satisfied, and backed off, resting against the base of the sofa. "You should know better than to ambush a man in his own house. Especially while he's asleep."
"It's good to see you too," Charlie replied breathlessly, pushing himself into a sitting position.
"I'm so glad I didn't grow up with brothers," Fleur spoke from behind the couch, amusement dripping from her voice.
Charlie looked at her passed Bill's head and grinned. "Well, we've got all the time in the world now to make up for that," he teased and he and Bill laughed. They reached for each others hands and pulled the other to their feet simultaneously before embracing each other in a tight hug.
After a big dinner and a couple glasses of wine, Bill and Fleur retired to their bedroom together, the first time in a while.
Charlie had already retreated to the guest room an hour or so ago and his dampened snores could be heard through the old walls.
"I forgot how funny he is," Fleur spoke quietly from where she stood in front of the mirror in her pyjamas, tying her hair into a loose braid. Bill was watching her from the bed, stripped down to his briefs. He rested his head against the headboard with a hum, smiling to himself.
Fleur walked up to the bed and looked at her husband. "We should visit him in Romania some time," she suggested as she climbed under the covers.
Bill rolled onto his side so that he was facing her and nodded. "Yeah, we should." He slung his arm around her waist and pulled Fleur close until their bodies were pressed together.
Fleur giggled and kissed him softly, letting her arms get crushed between them.
They made out lazily for a little while, taking in the other's scent before simply snuggling close.
"So, how come whenever I tickle you, I don't make you laugh like Charlie?" Fleur asked after a few minutes of silence.
The question took Bill by surprise. He chuckled, amused that this crucial question was on Fleur's mind while he had been thinking about asking his father for some spare chicken wire.
"Wouldn't you like to know," Bill teased, his fingers scribbling beneath Fleur's pyjama top long enough to elicit a squeal.
"Stop! Stop," she protested, hitting his chest and kneeing his thigh in an attempt to curl up. "He'll hear us."
"Who, Charlie?" Bill asked, letting up. "He would sleep through an explosion, trust me."
Fleur huffed, blowing a strand of hair from her face. "I would like to know, amour."
Bill gazed down at her, raising an eyebrow. "I don't know if you can be trusted with such delicate information."
Fleur gasped, playfully acting offended. "I'm your wife. I have a right to delicate information."
Bill bit his lip to stop from grinning. "I don't know. What if you use it against me to get your wicked ways?"
Fleur sat up, leaning close to Bill's face. "That's exactly why I need to know."
They both laughed, Fleur resting a hand on Bill's chest and squeezing his pec. "Either you tell me or I'll ask Charlie to teach me," she told him nonchalantly.
Bill watched her with a smile. "Charlie's has gone through more than 20 years of trial and error, you think he'll just give it up like that?"
Fleur narrowed her eyes some. "I have my ways. En outre, he told me I was his favourite."
Bill chuckled and suddenly shot up, throwing himself at Fleur. The Veela yelped and groaned at the sudden weight on top of her but was quickly thrown into a fit of laughter when Bill started squeezing and pinching at her thigh. "But it's so much more fun to torment you this way. Leveling the playing field would be so unreasonable."
Fleur rolled her head back, laughing loudly. She could feel her braid dangling off the edge of the bed and gripped onto Bill's arm tightly. The attacked ceased as quickly as it had begun.
Fleur closed her eyes as she caught her breath, intertwining her fingers with Bill's. "Tu es méchant," she mumbled.
Bill chuckled and squeezed her hand while pressing his lips to her cheek. "I know," he whispered back.
He straightened up, sitting cross-legged beside his wife's body, allowing her to drape a leg diagonally across his lap. "Your touch is too light."
Fleur's eyes fluttered opened and their gazes fixed on each other for a few long seconds. "That's it?" asked Fleur. "I'm too gentle?"
Bill shrugged placidly, absentmindedly fumbling with the hem of her pyjamas. "Basically. Your tickles are more relaxing and comforting."
Fleur scrambled up and got to her knees, her face inches from Bill's. "Arms up."
Bill blinked. "Wh- No." His elbows pressed closer to his body in anticipation, a familiar giddiness building in his stomach.
"I need to make sure you are telling me the truth," Fleur argued, trying to wiggle her fingers in-between his clamped arms but Bill kept fending her off.
"Oh, you would like that, wouldn't you? For me to just offer myself up to you? No, no, no, my love, you will have to work for that."
Fleur rolled her eyes with a snort and reached out, one hand clamping onto his waist just beneath his elbow's protection.
There was no initial reaction.
The fingers compressed with more pressure and determination than they usually dared. However, after a few more squeezes, the biggest reaction they were able to extract was an audible exhale through the nose.
Fleur dropped her hand with a small pout, looking at Bill's amused face.
"That was good," he told her, giving a reassuring smile.
"You didn't even laugh," Fleur grumbled.
"Cause I saw you coming a mile off. It was better, I promise." Bill couldn't stop the corners of his mouth from twitching, overcome with adoration for his wife.
Fleur paused for a moment as she thought. Out of nowhere she grabbed Bill's face, her lips crashing against his.
Bill let out a surprised moan but was quick to return the affection. He was slowly forced onto his back as Fleur inched closer, eventually straddling his hips.
Fleur's tongue brushed his lower lip, persuading Bill to focus only on her. There was another moan, this time with a hint of greed behind it and Fleur could feel a set of warm, gentle hands gliding up her thighs.
The kiss was broken by a startled laugh bubbling up between them. Distracted enough to let his guard down, Fleur had dug her fingers between Bill's ribs, just how she had seen Charlie do it. Adamant to get a decent reaction this time, she used all of her weight to at least try and keep Bill in place.
"Ahand you s-Aah! Said Ihi- Shihiiit!"
Fleur grinned victoriously as Bill threw his head back with his eyes squeezed shut. She couldn't help but laugh at the sight of him.
His hands came up from her thighs to grab onto her wrists but it didn't seem like it was to push them away. Rather, he simply held on for support.
Fueled by the successful reaction, Fleur watched Bill's face closely as she inched one of her hands higher.
"Nnnn... Ohoh- Dohon't!" Bill shook his head.
Only one finger had made contact with armpit hair when Bill bucked. It wasn't a violent buck, but Fleur let herself be thrown off anyway. With a triumphant laugh she flopped down next to her breathless husband. "So much for 20 years of trial and error."
Bill laughed at her comment, a hand coming to rest against his sternum as his breath evened out again.
Fleur brushed some hair out of his face and planted a kiss to his temple before turning her back on him and pulling the covers over herself as if the last 15 minutes had never happened. "You're very attractive when you pretend not to enjoy it."
Heat travelled from Bill's face all the way to his chest. "Oh, yeah?" He tried to sound casual but had lost any control over his body for a moment.
"Uh-huh."
Bill got comfortable on his own side again, adjusting the covers.
"I think I'll have to do this every night now."
"Alright, alright," Bill interjected with half-hearted disapproval, moving close and wrapping his arm around her waist to draw her close against his chest. He felt her chuckle in his hold and a warm smile crept onto his face.
The image of Fleur overpowering him and taking him apart with just her hands sent butterflies to Bill's stomach.
As they drifted off, it felt as if the weight of the last few weeks had faded into a cloud of fog to the back of their minds.
Bill was able to sleep through the night and didn't wake until the sun was already shimmering through the curtains.
As if keeping to an unspoken agreement, the following days rarely passed without the sounds of a tickle fight filling the rooms of old Shell Cottage.