A/N: This is my first fanfiction, ever. And I am sorry if I'm not that good at writing. And warning, there's slash, twincest, angst and probably something else people can hate in the upcoming chapters.
I'm sorry for the last part of George's POV. It's kind of short. But I hope you will enjoy!

~George~

A shiver, as the storm outside terrorized harder, went through his body and The Burrow seemed to almost give in for the wind. This summer had just started, already giving them nothing but housekeeping to do. Rain, thunder and hard wind were making everyone under the Weasley's roof go crazy and as usual; it had woken up one of the twins.

George stroke his hair back when it fell down into his eyes, it was slightly too long for him but too short to make his mother go mad, as a thunder broke lose from the sky and he moved to his side to watch Fred. George's lookalike was breathing slow and seemed peaceful with this weather as it never caused him sleeping problems or boredom.

Fred always seemed happy with the storms, running outside and seemed to enjoy the fact that he returned soaking wet. And he always asked his family why they never took the opportunity to enjoy it. Stupid fuck.

George grinned at his thoughts and was now whispering the name of his almost identical brother louder and louder after each time, wanting the teen in the other bed to react. Several minutes past but there was no sign of Fred waking up.

"Your favorite weather... And you are not even pretending to join my thoughts..." George waited, he needed the reaction that he was longing, and his voice said the sentence a bit louder than the whispers. No response.

Damn you, he thought, turning to his left to try to go back to sleep, but being held awake thanks to the sky that revealed loud banging. The redheaded boy sat up in his bed, rubbing his temples to avoid the big headache that was coming up, and then he swung his legs over the edge and felt the cold floor touching his bare feet.

He forgot the urge to sleep some more hours; he was just hoping to find anything that he could entertain himself with until Fred actually got back to life. George tried to think of the dream he had, once he was asleep, but there was no sign of anything. His head felt empty and he didn't even care about the cold floor anymore. Why couldn't he just have the ability to remember whatever he was dreaming, was his dreams that unimportant to him?

He let out a sigh, he was disappointed, the question had no answer and he stood up and leered at Fred. Still there was no sign of the brother's awakening, but he seemed to be in a pleasurable part of the dream-zone. Fred let out a quiet moan and George chuckled little, wondering what his brother really was going through in his imagination.

After staring for two minutes at his brother, George gave up and let out a loud sigh; he turned his back against Fred's sleeping guise and opened their door. Halfway out of the room he met his real mirror image and he saw how the fire red hair really looked like fire this morning as it was pointing into every direction in a dramatic way. Maybe his dream hadn't been that bad.

While he looked at himself in disgust, noticing freckles in places where they just didn't look normal, discovered unpleasant scars on his jaw line and other places around his throat; he heard a low mumble from Fred that almost sounded like that moan again. George turned while he chuckled and faced his groggy twin.

Fred shuddered as it seemed, on the edge of shaking and his cheeks were pink-colored. George chuckled a second time and closed the door behind him as he walked into the room again, finding Fred looking like he was caught with his hands in the cookie jar. Only Merlin knows what his dream was about.

~Fred~

He only pretended not to notice George in his desperate attempt to get his attention, the reason to this behavior wasn't about him wanting to avoid his twin; but his gut said that his lower regions rising because of his dream wasn't the sight of him that George would want to see.

Fred barely remembered the unbelievable treatment that he got in his sleep, he thought for it and his head reminded him that this person had red hair that almost reached the shoulders. Slightly and smooth he stroke himself on the outside of his pajamas-fabric, a warm feeling caught him up and he shivered. Now I have to do my own laundry again.

To his misfortune; George seemed to have noticed that he was awake and as he closed his eyes in regret he heard the door shutting again; hoping for a while that his brother went out, but knew by the creaking on the floor that he was wrong. Please, make him not know what I just did.

But it appeared that there was no one to answer his prayer, George was giving him a wink, grinning, "You seemed to have had a great dream there, brother," he chuckled, giving Fred a pat on the stomach.

Fred let out a sigh and murmured that George could feel free to leave Fred and his dreams alone and just ignore him for some minutes. But Fred never had the time to cover himself up; he noticed the thunder and got to his feet, grabbing George by his wrist and rushed outside, making amounts of sounds that obviously didn't wake anyone up.

His fingers were holding on George with great strength that made the skin under the fingernails buckle a bit, George cursed when the door opened and Fred dragged him outside.

"Why the hell are you taking me here? It's bloody cold, mate!"

Fred winched by the sound of George's voice, it was familiar and the red, striped, wet hair, clinched fists and those lips made Fred's mind race. He was perfect; he was the perfect match, that greenish in his bright-brown eyes and the freckles on his neck. Everything matched perfectly.

He had long known that George was the one in his dreams, but he had turned a blind eye against it, he didn't want to see it. He didn't want to admit it, he never would.

Now he couldn't do anything else but to stare at George, realizing where that bubbly feeling came from. He always caught himself feeling funny around his brother, wanting to be as near as possible and this dream haunting him like madness, always giving him a problem to take care of in the morning, didn't make anything easier for him.

George seemed furious but a smirk caught his mouth and his lips drove Fred's thoughts in a direction that made his blood pumping around in his body with such force he believed that his heart was going to jump out of his aching chest. George's lips were making Fred's mind spin and the memory of the dream made his stomach twitch and he suddenly felt an incredible warmth catch his whole body, fortunately for him; there were a thunder, louder than the earlier ones, that drove his attention back to the storm.

~George~

The rain was really cold and both of them got soaked to the skin in just a couple of minutes, George instinctively clinched his fists and wondered out loud why he was there. He looked at his brother and noticed massive changing in his face, his expressions went from relief to worry to a dreamy look that George didn't recognize.

Fred looked at him and gave him a burning look of excitement, that he only knew form his own face, but the expression seemed to disappear as the heaven let out the biggest thunder of them all.

George's brother was lightening up and a grin, that lit up his whole surrounding, danced into his mouth. Fred always seemed to be the one that enjoyed things in a better and happier way that made George jealous, he wanted to be the better twin once. Just once.

Fred once again grabbed George's wrist, making something that felt like a lightning bolt go through his body, George shivered; he suddenly imagined his brother with his hands grabbing something else.

Focus, he thought while he got dragged down the yard, out of the garden and towards a big field that they always played on when they were younger.

There were so many memories with this that bubbled up in George, he fought them and threw them away in a deep hole in his brain. A smile crept its way into his face and he realized that Fred was still gripping his wrist, but the strength was eased. The hand of the older brother was slowly sliding down George's.
Fred snapped back his fist with such speed that George suddenly felt abandoned, his skin was left behind and he felt incredibly cold all of a sudden. He almost felt like he was forgotten, his hand still waiting for the touch that never came.
Focus, I said focus..