Chapter Text
Will fantasized about killing Freddie Lounds more in the days that followed than he had in his life, which was saying something. Hannibal was withdrawn and Will couldn’t break through his stubborn despondency. They hadn’t touched each other intimately since the article dropped. Hannibal would climb into bed at night long after Will, always creating inches of careful distance between them, always rolling to the side so his back was to Will. He undoubtedly knew that Will wasn’t really asleep and was choosing to ignore that fact. Will hadn’t slept this poorly since before the fall.
If there had been a way to beg forgiveness, Will would have, but Hannibal seemed bothered by the mere concept of Molly, and Will didn’t know how to apologize for her existence without offering her as a sacrifice. And he couldn’t stomach even the thought of that, as desperate as he felt at times. In the end it wasn’t anything specific that brought Hannibal back to him. Will suspected the loneliness was just finally starting to wear on him too.
The olive branch came, as it often did, in the form of food. Will woke one morning to find Hannibal making breakfast in the kitchen — something he’d seen only rarely in the days since their argument. And Will could tell just from the sweet scents of batter and Hannibal’s homemade maple syrup, that he was making Will’s favorite pancakes. Will stilled in the doorway, feeling oddly wrong footed and unsure of his welcome. But Hannibal had heard his approach and he turned to face Will, just staring at him for a moment. Hannibal’s eyes ran over every inch of Will: his face, his slightly curled shoulders, his fidgeting hands. And Hannibal’s expression was that of a man catching sight of rain clouds in the distance after a long drought — cautiously hopeful, but still wary that they’ll dissipate any minute. “I’ve prepared breakfast if you’re hungry?” Hannibal asked without any particular inflection, but there was something anxious in his eyes that Will hated.
“I’m starving,” Will said with a grateful smile, catching Hannibal’s eyes, “thank you for this.” He didn’t know how else to express his relief. But it seemed Hannibal didn’t want to dwell on apologies or settling accounts, as he returned Will’s smile easily.
“Of course. Coffee?”
And just like that, they were back to some semblance of normal. But Molly or anything relating to Molly became a third rail. Will had never mentioned her directly before, but now he made sure not to say anything that could even tangentially bring her to mind for Hannibal. And still it felt like she was always there between them, some existential threat that haunted Hannibal’s thoughts. Will couldn’t understand it. All he could do was make every effort to convince Hannibal of their permanence. So he made a point to join Hannibal for every social event, even those he normally would have begged off from. He helped Hannibal cook every meal, so much so that he was starting to pick up some of the more pretentiously esoteric knife skills only ever used in haute cuisine. After dinner, he would not so subtly follow Hannibal to whichever room he chose, curling up on a couch or chair with a book as Hannibal composed or sketched or finished leftover paperwork from the day. Will hoped that Hannibal would eventually find the reassurance he needed in Will’s persistent proximity, but there were still times when Hannibal would stare at Will as if he were some evanescent thing, liable to disappear any moment.
A few weeks into this frustrating new dynamic with Hannibal, as Will was grabbing a glass of water before his morning jog, Hannibal asked quietly, “would you care for some company on your run, Will?” It was, Will realized with slight alarm, the first time since the story ran that Hannibal had asked for Will’s company directly. That stung, but Will was relieved enough to feel pleased at the progress.
“That would be great, Hannibal. I’ll meet you outside?”
Hannibal nodded slightly as he rose from his seat at the counter, “I’ll be there momentarily.” Will couldn’t help grinning into his glass.
Will usually ran a three mile loop, but he opted for the longer six mile run he sometimes did on weekends, eager to extend this time with Hannibal as much as possible. The run involved a few miles of off-trail running through the uncleared terrain of the woods — something Will found especially exhilarating, and which he hoped wouldn’t put Hannibal off. And to Will’s pleasant surprise, Hannibal came increasingly alive as their run took them deeper into the wilderness, so much so that Will strayed even further than he normally would. When they finally paused to catch their breath and take stock of where they were, Will didn’t recognize anything around them. But he could just make out the sound of the stream that ran by their house in the distance and knew it would serve as a marker to guide them back. There was a stillness and silence that came with being this deep in the woods that felt almost sacred to Will, and when he glanced up at Hannibal and found his eyes closed in appreciation, a warm kind of tenderness filled him at seeing his own feelings reflected. Will let his eyes fall shut as well, savoring the moment, but when they opened minutes later, Hannibal was watching him.
“This isn’t your normal run?” Hannibal asked eventually, voice soft in deference to the quiet of the wood.
“No, I’ve never been out this far. It’ll take some doing to find our way back,” Will said, chuckling lightly as he glanced around.
”Do you have any experience tracking prey through the woods, Will?”
And some vestige of Will’s self preservation recognized that the question should have been jarring coming from Hannibal when they were lost alone in the forest together. But Will only felt a stirring of anticipation. “I haven’t,” Will answered, “you have,” Will didn’t need to ask.
Hannibal nodded slightly, “few things are as invigorating as hunting while communing with nature; it enables us to embrace our basest instincts.”
And Will couldn’t tell whether the jolt he felt at that answer was fear or arousal. The line was always blurry when it came to Hannibal. Will swallowed thickly, “too bad we have no prey,” he mused, already knowing where this was going.
Hannibal stalked towards Will then, unmistakably predatory, until he was standing before him, eyes dark as the shadowed woods around them, and brought his hand to Will’s face in a caress, almost more terrifying for its tenderness, “don’t we, Will?” He asked softly.
Will let himself meet Hannibal’s gaze for one heated moment, watching desire and something more animalistic bloom in his eyes, then Will turned on his heel and ran, at full pelt, into the trees. Seconds later, he heard Hannibal lumbering through the brush after him.
Will headed for the bubbling sounds of the stream, ducking behind trees every few minutes to scan the woods at his back. He could see no sign of Hannibal and could only occasionally hear him, always closer than Will was expecting. Will’s heart was racing with excitement as he plotted out his safest course forward, and it occurred to him that he hadn’t had this much fun in years. He was still wearing a dopey grin at that realization, when Hannibal caught up to him for the first time.
Will was a few yards from the stream bank, the path in front of him clear, and then suddenly, without sound or warning, it wasn’t. Hannibal was there before him, eyes dark and intent, but with a faint smile on his face that let Will know he was having just as much fun with this little game as Will was. Will froze as they just stared at one another, both panting and grinning. Then Will feinted left and dove right, pushing past Hannibal as he sprinted towards the stream. He felt Hannibal’s hand grab at his shirt and just barely miss it, and Will took the opportunity to scramble down the bank toward the water. But Hannibal was on him unnaturally quickly, actually catching Will’s shirt this time as they reached the water’s edge. Instinct had Will lifting his arms and letting the shirt slide off him into Hannibal’s fist. He knew he’d have only a moment before Hannibal’s other hand swung around and dragged Will back, so Will threw himself into the too shallow stream, heedless of the rocks and other debris. His naked chest collided painfully with some driftwood, as he stumbled forward, the fabric of his shorts growing instantly waterlogged. And when he glanced behind him, Hannibal was still on the stream bank, staring at the water with disdain, like a cat with an aversion, clenching Will’s t-shirt uselessly in his fist. Will couldn’t help the laugh that burst from his chest at the sight. When Hannibal glanced up at him, his eyes were so black they looked inhuman, and a chilling smile was spreading across his face, as he rapidly scanned the bank for how best to cross the stream.
Will waded, waist deep, the rest of the way across and out of the water, kicking off his sopping shorts as he pulled himself up onto the rocky shore. And it wasn’t until he’d done it that he realized he was now almost entirely naked, running through the woods away from Hannibal Lecter. Hannibal stilled at the sight of Will in just his briefs, his eyes dark with something closer to lust now, and Will felt a pulse of arousal imagining what might be in store for him whenever Hannibal finally caught up. Hannibal must have had a similar thought, because he was surveying the edge of the stream with renewed intent now. Will caught the moment Hannibal found the ideal crossing he’d been searching for, and Will didn’t risk lingering. He took off into the woods, keeping the river bank on his right as a guide home.
Will saw and heard nothing more of Hannibal until he could already see the outline of their house through the trees. He allowed a small smile of victory as he approached the tree line, but his celebration was cut short when he was slammed bodily into a tree, with an arm across his chest. And even with the bark pricking his back, Will couldn’t help the grunt of laughter. Hannibal was on him, panting and looking like a beast from the depths, but there was a smile on his lips and laughter in his eyes that quashed any fear Will might have felt before it could take root. Will made his body go lax in feigned submission until Hannibal let his guard down. Then Will elbowed him in the stomach. Hannibal grunted as he doubled over, and Will laughed as he made a break for the house. But Hannibal was always faster than Will expected him to be and seconds later, Hannibal was tackling a still chuckling Will to the ground by his legs. They rolled around on the forest floor, Hannibal struggling to pin a slippery Will to the ground.
Wrestling with the Chesapeake Ripper was nothing like being tickled by Molly Graham, who found the fact that Will was ticklish wildly entertaining for some reason and took advantage of it often, but when Hannibal’s hand brushed along Will’s side in a gesture that had Will throwing his head back in reflexive laughter, wires got crossed somewhere. He’d spoken before his mind had even caught up with what was happening.
“Mol, stop,” he laughed, squirming away. And the pressure was off Will so quickly it left him blinking. Will glanced up, face already drawn in confusion when he caught the look of devastation on Hannibal’s face and Will’s good humor evaporated instantly. He was pulling himself to his feet immediately, a question in his eyes, concern growing every second, “Hannibal?” He asked, hand extended, but Hannibal pulled sharply away from Will’s grasp, looking at Will like he couldn’t recognize him, expression so inexplicably broken it had Will’s heart thudding painfully. Will frantically ran through the last few minutes, and his stomach plummeted to his toes when he realized what he’d done. “Hannibal,” he whispered, “I didn’t—“ and he had no idea how he could possibly end that sentence.
Hannibal was slowly reconstructing his impassive mask, papering it over the pain that had lanced through him at Will’s unforgiveable carelessness. But eventually he gave it up as a bad job, turned on his heel, and walked away.
“Hannibal,” Will said urgently, stumbling as he got up off the ground, but by the time Will was steady on his feet, Hannibal had already crossed most of the yard in the direction of their car. Will didn’t try to follow him when he drove away, in part because he was still naked other than his sneakers and briefs, but mostly because he knew Hannibal was entitled to whatever distance he felt he needed from Will.
So Will dragged himself back into the house to wait for Hannibal to return to him. When he walked into the empty kitchen, his water glass from earlier was still out on the counter beside Hannibal’s abandoned iPad, and for some reason the sight made tears spring to his eyes. Will wasn’t sure what it would take to lose Hannibal, but he got the distinct impression he was getting there. Instead of wallowing in that agonizing thought, he started cleaning. As a distraction and because Hannibal was such a clean freak, the scrubbed up house would hopefully be a welcome sight when he came home. When, not if. Hours passed and every room of the house was spotless by the time Will heard tires on the gravel drive outside. He had to close his eyes against the relief the sound brought with it, and he was on his feet, heading to the entryway before Hannibal even threw the car into park.
“Hi,” he said as soon as Hannibal was through the front door. Hannibal looked up at him and away again, face betraying nothing, but he sounded weary and resigned when he eventually spoke.
“Hello, Will,” he sighed and headed straight to the living room bar, Will following close behind.
”Where did you go?” Will asked as Hannibal poured himself a healthy portion of whiskey and took a seat in the armchair.
“Does it matter?” It didn’t. It was filler. Delaying the inevitable.
And as was his way, Hannibal cut right to it. He took a measured sip, and when he spoke, his voice was totally neutral, “I’m frankly at a loss, Will, as to how to proceed. I spent much of my time away contemplating how I might gain access to Ms. Foster. Planning how slowly and excruciatingly I would kill her.”
“No,” Will had been expecting it, but hearing the words in Hannibal’s detached voice was sickening. If nothing else, at any cost, Will knew he needed to prevent that. “If you hurt her, Hannibal, I’ll leave you.” It was difficult to get those words past his lips, and as much as it made Will hate himself, he was pretty sure he didn’t even mean them.
“I assumed as much,” said Hannibal, apparently with more faith in Will’s better nature than Will had himself. He took another small sip, still not looking at Will, “even so, the thought of rending her flesh from the bone was immensely tempting. It took me hours to come to the conclusion that the price would be too steep.”
Pain swept through Will at that, and his voice was shaking with anger when he asked, “how could you actually consider letting her destroy us like that?”
Hannibal turned to Will with terrifyingly cold eyes. When he spoke, his voice was quietly menacing, “I am not the one letting her destroy us, Will. You have made this situation untenable. By sheltering precious memories of your ex-wife in your heart, forcing me to share the space.”
“I’m not sheltering anything, Hannibal.”
Hannibal ignored Will’s interjection, his voice rising in a way it rarely did, “I resent being excluded from part of you. That you demarcate the pieces of yourself that are mine and where I cannot be allowed even though she was, it's intolerable.”
Will was growing exasperated in turn, “you have every part of me, Hannibal. You have my fucking soul at this point.”
“I don’t have your light. You don’t believe I could possibly have an interest in it. I don’t have your weaknesses either. You don’t trust me with them.” Will’s mouth fell shut at that. “And yet you shared these parts freely with Ms. Foster,” Hannibal’s tone was seething, but it grew pained as he finished, “she brought them out in you in a way it seems I cannot. Or else you won’t let me.”
“Hannibal,” Will started, voice faint, not sure what he could even say. It was a gross oversimplification of Will’s feelings, but Will realized with a tendril of shame, not entirely wrong, “you know me in a way no one else ever could, but we’re different people. Why dwell on our differences?”
Hannibal’s eyes flashed with anger, “and our similarities begin and end with your darkest urges?” He took another sip before continuing, the alcohol obviously doing its work, making his movements and speech a little looser, “while of course you make allowances for my preferences and proclivities, or have you grown a personal fondness for attending the ballet, Will?”
Will felt uncomfortably caught out at that. He shook his head sharply to cover it, “it’s different.”
“Is it? Why? Because your love is unconditional, but I couldn’t possibly love anything other than the shades of you that suit me? And it follows that the softer sides of your nature have no place in the life we’re building together?”
Will groaned, rubbing his eyes, “Hannibal—”
“I want you Will,” and the vehemence in Hannibal’s tone had Will dropping his hands and glancing up at him, “Not presented in your best light or at your best angle. I want you messy, and foolish, and ugly, and soft. I want your fishing and your dogs. Your pettiness and your most shameful thoughts. And your laughter. I want the parts of yourself that you fear revealing to others and the parts you’re proudest of. I won’t accept only some portion of you, Will. I can’t accept it.”
Will’s heart was racing as the speech came to an end, “Hannibal,” Will said faintly, swallowing through his suddenly dry throat.
Hannibal was still holding Will’s gaze, eyes tinged with something like desperation now, “Would you let me have all of you, Will? Or will you relegate me to the darkest corners of your mind while you dance with your wife in the light?”
Will’s eyes fell shut, those words hitting him like a punch to the gut. “I never intended…” he trailed off, unsure how to finish.
Hannibal’s face lost some of its fervor, and his tone was softer as he said, “I don’t believe you intended to create distance between us, Will. But I’m not wrong.” It wasn't a question.
”No, you’re… no,” and then an explanation Will hadn’t even let enter his conscious mind was spilling out, “it’s hard to reconcile you with the… banality of a normal life. Even the parts of it that I miss.”
Hannibal’s smile gentled even more, “I don’t want to live your fantasy of us, Will. Or mine,” he paused, clearly debating whether or not to share something, “when I was locked away, I spent most of my time imagining what you might be doing. Picturing your life running parallel to my own, as you once said you did for Garrett Jacob Hobbs. I saw you brushing your teeth in the morning as I did, having coffee, eating breakfast, doing dishes and reading in the evening, taking your dogs for walks. I tried to picture what you might be doing for leisure, I knew you liked to read, enjoyed music, luremaking, fishing when you had the opportunity, but I never asked how else you filled your hours. If you liked to go for runs, if you enjoyed films, what kinds of books you preferred. I could extrapolate from what I knew of you, but it felt like an unforgivable oversight not to find out when the opportunity still existed. The banalities, as you call them, made me feel closer to you than picturing you blood soaked and savage, or on occasion, writhing beneath me in bed,” Will blushed at that and Hannibal smirked briefly before he grew serious again, “I wanted the reality of you, Will. I wanted to be a part of that reality. I let go of my ideal of you the night I escaped Baltimore with Bedelia. And I have no expectations of you now. All I want is to have you by my side. And to be allowed to share in your life, whatever form it all might take.”
Will’s eyes grew hot with tears then and he scrubbed his face brutally. “Fuck, I really messed this up,” he said with a mirthless chuckle.
Hannibal didn’t respond, but looked more thoughtful than accusatory, “it may take time to trust that I’ll be satisfied, grateful even, for anything a life with you has to offer, however incompatible it may seem to be with the life I’ve led until now. I’ll take the time to persuade you of the truth of it, but you must try, Will,” Hannibal seemed to gather himself as he looked up at Will plaintively, “will you try? Or will you continue hiding?”
Will shook his head again, furiously rubbing the wetness from his eyes, “no more hiding,” he promised.
Hannibal smiled, but Will felt unmoored, in need of reassurance himself, “can we— please, I need to be… closer”
Hannibal met Will’s eyes and pulled his hand to his lips for a soft kiss. Then he rose, tugging Will with him to their room.
***********
When they reached the bed, Will started to undress immediately, digging through the nightstand for the lube and tossing it on the bed one handed as his other hand unbuttoned his shirt. It took Will a moment to realize that Hannibal was still standing, unmoving and fully dressed, at the side of the bed. Will let his hands drop, “something wrong?”
Hannibal shook his head, “I just thought we might try something different.”
Will nodded, immediately willing, ”What did you have in mind?”
Hannibal’s eyes were swimming with emotion when they met Will’s, “would you make love to me, Will?”
And hearing those words in Hannibal’s voice was so arousing it sent a shiver through Will. His cock was hardening at just the thought of it. But he forcibly controlled his eagerness.
“That’s something you want?” He asked carefully, concerned by the unexpectedness of the request given the timing.
Hannibal’s eyes were trained determinedly on the bedspread, and he was unusually hesitant when he spoke again, “I could see that you had certain…expectations about how intimacy would be between us, and I was frankly so ecstatic to learn that this was something we could have that I was reluctant to ask for what was not freely given.” And now Will felt wildly guilty knowing how demanding he’d been, and in a very particular way. Casting Hannibal in the role he’d typically played in Will’s fantasies without caring, or even asking, about his preferences. But Hannibal halted that line of thought before Will could get lost in a spiral of self recrimination. “Will, I’ve wanted every single thing we’ve shared intimately, quite enthusiastically in fact. This is not an instead. It’s an as well. Something I’ve hoped to share with you for some time.” Hannibal looked almost shy at the end. And the sight of Hannibal like this, asking for this, unlocked something startlingly possessive in Will.
“Take off your clothes and get on the bed,” Will’s voice sounded gruffer than he’d intended, but he had very little control over his tone just then. Hannibal complied. immediately, stripping methodically, and climbing onto the bed per Will’s instruction. But he didn’t fall onto his back as Will might have. And Will realized, with a surge of arousal, that Hannibal was awaiting direction on position.
“Hands and knees,” Will rasped.
Hannibal obeyed without comment, and he was a sight to behold. His thickly muscled chest and arms straining as he arched slightly, widening his stance, his body open to Will. Hannibal’s head was hanging down between his shoulders and his face was the picture of serenity, utterly content as he waited for whatever Will would give him. Will felt a sharp kind of need seeing Hannibal so submissive, but at the same time, he felt the overwhelming urge to shatter that careful control. Will climbed on the bed behind Hannibal ignoring the tube of lubricant for now. Instead he grabbed Hannibal’s ass cheeks firmly in each hand, pulling them apart and thrust his tongue inside.
It was like Will had sent an electric shock through him. Hannibal’s body jerked violently and his arms collapsed, his head dropping to the bed. Hannibal seemed lost in a trancelike state, seemingly unaware of the little rhythmic grunts he was making the whole time. Will could easily have kept going for hours, pulling those helpless sounds from Hannibal until the pleasure overwhelmed him, but after some unknown period of time, Hannibal’s hand came back to Will’s head, tugging his hair sharply in a clear signal to stop. Will pulled away, panting and wiping his face, looking up at Hannibal questioningly. And Hannibal froze momentarily, awestruck at whatever picture Will made. Then he surged forward, kissing Will deeply, tongue searching out his own flavor in Will’s mouth. But he pulled back after a minute, “I need you inside of me, Will,” he said, voice raw.
Will didn’t need any more encouragement than that. He rose up on his knees and pushed Hannibal gently onto the bed on his back, nudging his legs open in the process. He grabbed the lube off the bed and wet two of his fingers, pressing them into Hannibal up to the knuckle without ceremony. Hannibal welcomed the intrusion, bearing down immediately and letting out a stunted moan that made Will almost dizzy with desire. But Will summoned patience, wanting more than anything to make this good for Hannibal.
Too soon, Hannibal was grabbing Will’s wrist, stilling him, “I’m ready.” And he looked so overcome, Will didn’t bother asking if he was sure.
Will slicked his cock generously with lube and guided himself until he was resting against Hannibal’s entrance. Hannibal’s breathing was unsteady and his eyes were closed as if he were just barely holding himself together.
And a spike of murderous violence shot through Will as he imagined anyone else seeing Hannibal like this. “Have you done this before?” He asked pressing gently against Hannibal, but not enough to push inside. Will knew it was toeing the line between teasing and torture.
Hannibal tried to push down, with a sound that was almost a whimper, but Will wouldn’t allow it, gaze steely as he waited for Hannibal to respond. Eventually Hannibal forced his eyes open with clear effort and looked at Will, “never. I’ve never wanted this with anyone else.”
And relief suffused Will as he finally pushed steadily in, not pausing until he was fully inside Hannibal, watching in amazement as Hannibal’s body greedily enveloped every inch of him. His breath left him in a shaky exhale as he looked back up at Hannibal’s face. Hannibal’s eyes had fallen closed again. There was no sign of discomfort on his face, but his forehead was tense with concentration and shiny with sweat, and he struggled to catch his breath. He looked completely overwhelmed. Slowly, Will started moving, watching Hannibal’s face, rapt as every sensation darted across his usually impassive face like an open book. And Will’s thoughts were out of his mouth without his permission, “no one else has seen you like this. Been inside of you like this.”
“No,” Hannibal said in a clipped whisper as if he were struggling to keep other sounds at bay.
”But you wanted this with me.” It wasn’t a question, but Hannibal responded anyway.
”Yes,” he sighed.
“Why?” Will asked, and when Hannibal didn’t respond immediately, Will pulled almost all the way out and stayed there. Hannibal groaned in frustration before finding his voice.
”To be claimed by you in this way is a heady thing,” he said in a rush.
Will took that in, now moving at a maddeningly slow pace. “Did you not feel claimed before?” And Will was on the edge of coming undone himself, but he forced some semblance of control into his voice.
Hannibal’s voice was reedy, “please, Will.”
”Answer me,” Will said again on a particularly deep thrust.
”I can’t—“ Hannibal took two deep breaths and opened his eyes, which were black and swirling with emotion. He answered haltingly, voice wrecked, “I had a claim to you. But there is a certain eloquence to being physically claimed,” Will’s pace picked up as Hannibal spoke, and Hannibal swallowed before continuing, “the heavy, full feeling of having you inside me, the dull ache that will linger for days after.”
“Fuck, Hannibal,” and that snapped Will’s flagging self control in half. He was suddenly pumping into Hannibal with speed and little gentleness, gripping his hair and forcing Hannibal to meet his eyes. “I am fucking claiming you, Hannibal. You’re mine.”
And finally, Hannibal seemed incapable of stifling his sounds as he let out a wanton moan that was startling in the relative silence of the room. “Yes, Will. Please.”
Will clutched his face more firmly as he said, “there has never been anyone, but you. Not really. And there never will be.”
“Will,” Hannibal said almost too faintly to be heard.
And now Will was working his hips with intent, searching out the angle that made Hannibal jerk and gasp and hitting it relentlessly with every thrust.
Hannibal reached down to take himself in hand, but Will pressed his wandering hand down onto the mattress. “No,” Will said softly, and Hannibal just nodded. His eyes were shut tight.
And Will was suddenly desperate to see those eyes, “look at me,” Will said softly, and when Hannibal seemed too lost in sensation to comply, Will tugged his hair sharply. Hannibal’s eyes snapped open and they were shining with unshed tears. Hannibal looked destroyed and he didn’t try to speak. It seemed all his energy was going towards just holding Will’s gaze and the sight of Hannibal so undone had Will losing rhythm as he barreled toward his own release. He could see Hannibal was close too, and his grip on Hannibal’s hair gentled as he dragged his hand down to cradle his face, eyes jumping back and forth, memorizing every feature of Hannibal’s expression. This was an image he hoped he could shelter in his heart for the rest of his life, “there’s no frame of reference for how I love you, Hannibal” he whispered.
And Hannibal’s eyes fell closed as he tipped over the edge, groaning wildly. Will watched, working him through it before he finally came himself, with an undignified shout.
He collapsed on top of Hannibal, sweaty and sticky. It seemed neither had the energy to move any further because Will drifted off like that.
**********
When he woke, Hannibal was no longer under him, but his side of the bed was still warm, and Will could hear him moving around in the kitchen. Will took a quick shower then dressed in some loose sweatpants and went to search him out. Hannibal wasn’t cooking, but he was in the kitchen drinking a cup of tea and doing something on his iPad. He’d clearly also had a shower and dressed in proper clothes, though thankfully not a full suit. His face lit up as Will walked in.
“Good afternoon, Will,” he said with a smirk that Will returned.
“Yeah you too. Have you eaten?”
”I was just preparing a list for the market and planned to pick up some lunch for us both on the way back.”
Will nodded gratefully. Then, out of nowhere, a random idea crossed Will’s mind and gave him pause. He had never let it take root before, dismissing it entirely with a twinge of embarrassment whenever he thought of it, but he forced himself not to instinctively do that now. He hadn’t ever shared this with Molly. Mostly because it felt like the kind of thing he never wanted to share with anyone. And as Will regarded Hannibal, in his crisp button down and slacks, perfectly coiffed hair, meticulously putting together their shopping list, mentioning this to him now felt laughable. Will had just resolved to drop it, when Hannibal looked up at him and there was something gently hopeful in his smile that reminded Will of his promise. No more hiding, Will thought, with a heavy mental sigh.
“Pop tarts.”
Hannibal looked up at Will as if he’d started speaking Cantonese, “pop tarts?” He said with exaggerated confusion.
“I… if you’re going to the store, you could see if they have them.”
The bewilderment on Hannibal’s face only grew at that, so Will explained, “when I was a kid, they were basically the only indulgence my dad ever allowed. I think he saw them in a commercial once and decided, as long as something like pop tarts was in our kitchen cupboard, he was playing the part of a father correctly. Even if he forgot to give me dinner half the time. Anyway, when I was little, on nights my dad didn’t bother coming home until around midnight, I’d pull them out and have one before bed and it felt… I dunno, just comforting I guess.”
Hannibal was watching Will intently now, and Will couldn’t tell at all what he was thinking, so he just kept on rambling, “in college, even in Wolf Trap, I’d keep a pack in the cupboard. Mostly they gathered dust, but sometimes, when nightmares were at their worst, I’d have one and it would sort of, I dunno, bring me back to that feeling of safety,” Will shrugged as he finished, already regretting saying any of this.
Hannibal said nothing for an unnerving stretch, and when he did speak, it was with a tone Will recognized from their sessions. “Taste is one of the most evocative senses, perhaps the most evocative aside from smell. It’s uniquely transporting; able to return a person to a time and place, recreate a lost emotional state,” he paused, “but I believe a number of the ingredients in pop tarts,” and he still stumbled over the words as if speaking a foreign language, “have been banned in Canada.”
Will felt a sharp sting of embarrassment and, to a lesser degree, disappointment, but he wasn’t at all surprised by the outcome. It was an insane request to make, of Hannibal of all people, and Will couldn’t actually believe he picked the pop tart thing for his first foray into being more vulnerable. He let out an abashed chuckle at himself and the situation, and smiled up at Hannibal, who was watching him with an unreadable expression. Will gratefully took the out Hannibal had provided, “can’t say I’m surprised. I feel like those things would survive a nuclear strike. Please, forget I mentioned it. Seriously, please forget it,” he said with a self-deprecating smile.
But Hannibal just blinked at him. “You misunderstand me, Will. I only meant that they won’t be available at any grocery store here. I’ll have to put in a request with our importer.”
Will shot Hannibal a look at that. Hannibal used his discrete “importer” for things like custom Italian leather shoes and replacement parts for his harpsichord. If he put in a request for pop tarts the man would probably think Hannibal was having a stroke. “Hannibal. That’s ridiculous. It’s not that serious.”
“Nevertheless. It’s done.” Hannibal said, eyes back on his grocery list, voice brooking no disagreement.
And Will felt a strange new kind of tenderness for Hannibal then. Something laced with gratitude and relief and much softer than Will thought possible.
“Thanks,” he said quietly, and Hannibal shot him a knowing smile in return. Encouraged, Will tested the waters a little more, “and I’ve been thinking, maybe we should check out an animal shelter some time.”
Without missing a beat or even looking up Hannibal replied, “there’s a shelter fifteen minutes from us that opens at 10 a.m. on Sundays. We can go tomorrow.”
Will’s mouth dropped open, flummoxed and touched, and that tenderness from earlier burned even more brightly. “I.. ok. Yeah.” And Will couldn’t stop himself from pulling Hannibal into a hug then. Like last time, Hannibal was stunned at first, but he leaned into it after a second. The hug itself was shorter than their last, but just as deep, and Will kissed Hannibal lightly on the shoulder as he pulled away.
“I’m going to go get myself together a bit more, but I’ll see you when you get home?”
And as he looked back at Will, Hannibal seemed more content than Will had ever seen him, “yes Will. I’ll be back home soon.”