Chapter Text
Will and Hannibal sit opposite from one another at the dining room table. Will would have preferred the kitchen island but Hannibal had already set the stage for the evening.
Will sets his fork to the osso bucco in front of him, pulling away a perfect slice and sliding it into his mouth. He chews slowly, lost in calculating thought as his eyes darken in suspicion, glistening like a predator’s in the stalking hours of the night.
Hannibal sits and takes full delight in the meal he had poured himself passionately into, savoring every last detail on his tongue. Simpering, he indulges himself, and with a careful yet knowing gaze, breaks the silence Will has heightened.
“Lost in the seascape of your mind, Will?”
Their eyes lock as the room around them moves with the sun’s last fleeting rays; shadows weaving gracefully in between them and arranging themselves on the light colored walls, straying from the hardwood floor while playing in the fabric of white linen curtains.
Will swallows and places his fork aside before lightly tossing his napkin on the table and leaning back in his chair, his jaw working.
“…Adrift, maybe, like I’m fighting against a current.” The cadence of his voice mimics the swell and wane of a wave as his gaze refuses to deviate from the older man’s.
The former psychiatrist nods, revealing only a ghost of a sentimental smile. He takes a sip of his wine, allowing it to wash over every taste bud before swallowing in contemplation.
“Are you discovering what you have set out for, or has the realization of breaking out of the water broached your horizon?”
“I’ve been left in the water for too long.”
“You’ve been treading,” Hannibal replies in affirmation. “What if your balance could be both within the current and on the shore?”
The empath shifts his jaw, his eyes lowering in disagreement. His lips part as words work their way carefully, for once, to the tip of his tongue, peering out from over his teeth.
“I know where I am to be, Hannibal,” his voice cracks mildly as he continues, his eyes lifting, as they gradually meet the man before him again. “But I am uncertain as to how to navigate now that I’ve found myself here. I’ve lost my internal compass.” The younger man cracks a small smile upon saying the last.
The older man rises from his seat at this, taking his plate with him in one swift and elegant moment as he heads over to take Will’s, knowing that the man will not be finishing his supper this evening.
His hand brushes against Will’s own as he removes the leftover food from his reach. The young empath tenses at this, a gust of breath hitching within his throat.
“Follow me,” he gently orders, whispering in his ear and making fly away strands of curls tickle against his ear. He leaves then, granting the younger man a few moments to collect himself.
Busying himself with setting the dinnerware in the sink to soak, and shelving the leftover osso bucco into the refrigerator, Hannibal’s ears pick up on the light footfall of his companion. Simpering, he tilts his head in and closes the door to the refrigerator before turning to face Will.
They observe each other for a pregnant moment, the electricity from a not too distant morning crackling between them once more.
The younger man glances at the tips of his toes set against the polished floor, kneading the surface ever so slightly, needlessly as he chews the inside of his mouth and leans against the kitchen’s entry way.
Hannibal pads over to the cabinet on his left, fetching one wine glass and one stouter glass. He silently goes to the island in the middle of the open kitchen and sets them there. Reaching into the cupboard below the island’s ledge, he produces a bottle of red and another of perfectly aged whiskey.
The soft pour of liquids hurts echoes within Will’s eardrums, the kitchen presently seeming too well built in its acoustics.
Clink, plink.
Two ice cubes and the rev of a smooth glide across the counter top.
He stops worrying the inside of his mouth and the pads of his toes, and closes in on Hannibal. He takes a seat on the stool momentarily before his mind presents him with the anxious notion of being too entrapped.
Hannibal’s attention fixes itself on him, hungry and curious, yet waiting patiently on the threshold of permission.
He sips his wine, plush lips against the glass.
Will attempts to not notice, though his imagination drops him into limitless possibility.
The pleasant heat of whiskey burns its way down his throat. His eyes flutter in grateful relief as he sucks his lower lip, savoring the flavor of the alcohol that still lingers there.
The hairs on the nape of his neck stand on end. He unflinchingly opens his eyes and meets Hannibal’s admiration.
The younger man can feel his face flush. He sets the whiskey down, but his fingers dance tentatively on the glass’s surface.
Hannibal crosses the threshold then, walking around the curve of the island and stopping at only a respectable distance.
The bow of his mouth softens as his gaze transforms into something more knowing, almost sympathetic.
Will breathes, unsteadily, and finally summons enough valor to part from his glass of whiskey which had been acting as an emotional clutch for balance.
Another charged moment passes between them before Hannibal reaches for and captures Will’s fingers, gently lacing them with his own while his thumb runs smooth circles over the back of the empath’s hand.
Their gazes latch and Will’s breath falls into a stutter.
The maroon in Hannibal’s irises brightens, suddenly appearing more human with knowing tenderness.
“Tell me what you dreamt, Will. What caused you to scream so terribly that night?”
A beat thickens the air between the two men. The more haunted of the pair dryly swallows, a familiar bitterness coating his tongue, burning and prodding at his insides.
“Losing you,” he utters unevenly, fighting against the tears hurting his eyes and obstructing his vision.
Hannibal sweeps a thumb over his cheek, the tip of it catching a defying, stray tear.
“You have me.”
Will’s head shakes in disagreement, lips trembling along with the rest of his body.
“Dying and losing you.” He amends, his Adam’s apple nervously shifting.
The realization catches and reflects itself in Hannibal’s stare. His hand caresses the side of Will’s face, tucking rebellious curls behind his ear. He studies him a moment.
Beautiful, remarkable boy.
The bow of his mouth flattens before softening altogether, his face falling with it. After an elongated pause, he cuts the silence.
“Your intent, in sending us over that cliff, was to rid the world of us both, was it not? To hide beneath crashing waves and the temper of the sea; far out of safety’s reach? That was to be your one last victory, was it not, dear Will?”
“Yes. I wanted us to be at peace.” A small pause, then, before he corrects himself. “I wanted myself to be at peace.”
“You already were.”
“A final peace,” Will clarifies, teeth gritting; throat working to choke back the sob threatening to spill like oil.
“Undisturbed,” Hannibal catches on, his tone turning to silk as his voice smooths and evens out in comprehension. “Undisturbed as to avoid having peace stolen away from you, like time inevitably does. Will—”
Will blinks back more betraying tears as he swallows again in attempt to suppress his devastating grief over actions long since enacted. He didn’t want to come undone. Hannibal has seen him do so before, when encephalitis had set his brain ablaze, and he had a gun pointed at a hallucinated Hobbs, but this time is different. This time, something higher is at stake.
“Will,” Hannibal said again, luring him out of his memories and panicked thoughts. Cradling the side of the empath’s face with one hand, his thumb traces soothing circles on his upper cheek, while trailing his other hand down the other side, to the base of his collarbone, before settling it on his shoulder in reassurance. Hannibal can feel Will calming under his touch, coming down from his escalated anxiety; the tendrils of fear and imagination letting him go and allowing him to ground himself.
“Will,” he calls to him softly, once more, this time bringing their foreheads together. “You have me. Even in times of turmoil, and when peace seems to have all but abandoned you, you will have me. You will find and possess that peace again. We will have and know that, together. If madness can be shared by two, then certainly so can peace.”
Will lifts his eyes to meet Hannibal’s, mesmerized by their vibrant proximity. He scrutinizes his gaze.
“I have you.” He whispers, assuring himself. Balance returns to his body and mind. The sensation of having descended into the bowels of his worst Hell dissipates; demons and guilt fleeing into silence.
The empath studies the man before him, peace orchestrating the beat of his heart as he leans in, lips gravitating to Hannibal’s.
Hannibal’s breath ceases in anticipation as his fingers gently grasp Will’s curls at the nape of his neck. Will closes the remaining increment of distance between their mouths, kissing Hannibal gently, sincerely, before breaking away and stepping back.
Hannibal’s eyes latch on to his beloved, breath faltering.
A smile graces Will’s features, fueling his radiance.
Hannibal steps forward, watching Will’s teeth tug at his lower lip in sudden hesitance.
His gaze then abruptly flits down to the floor. He unsteadily steps back; the silence of his footfall adding to the tension. A sigh rolls through him, setting his shoulders back as his fingers fumble for missing ends of his long flannel sleeves.
Hannibal gradually closes the distance between them again. The gleaming smile within his gaze indicating his desire for more, causing Will’s heart to lurch. Regret creeps through him as an apology manifests in his eyes.
Hannibal tilts his head, lips ghosting over the other’s. The younger man shies away, placing a hand on his chest and pushing.
“Don’t you want something else?” Will asks, features creasing with the type of pain one feels after a mistake spills into their heart.
The older one regards him carefully and in full, drinking in the terrible display of emotion. He scrutinizes the man, unwavering and mirroring the vulnerability of the other.
“No,” Hannibal replies; his voice clear and warm with affectionate honesty.
Will shakes his head, his throat clicking as he blinks rapidly in order to fight off the rising tide. He shoves his hands into the pockets of his jeans.
“Hannibal, I can’t give you what you want.” He bluntly states, taking another step back, this time walking himself into the kitchen counter.
“You already have,” the man replies earnestly, pursuing the other with gentle persistence. His steps echoes faintly on the tiled floor.
Will’s mouth opens then shuts as confusion strikes his features. “You’ll want more.”
Hannibal laughs.
“I have all I need, right here. Right in front of me.” Another step forward.
Will goes to move in their dance again but finds himself with nowhere to go. The sunlight plays in his hair, adding hues of gold to contrast with the dark sweep of curls.
“They always want more.” His face pales, heart sinking.
“I…I can’t give you what you’ll eventually want.” He says, already hating himself. “I apologize, but I can’t. I can’t go there again. Sex and I—” For the first time in a long while, he finds himself stumbling in search for the right words. “There’s a significant level of disconnect when it comes to the physical aspects of an intimate relationship for me. It’s been that way for a while, though with Molly, this was another part of me I chose to hide for normalcy’s sake. I can’t hide again, Hannibal.”
Hannibal roots himself to his current spot. “I never want you to hide, Will. But I want you. I see you and I want you in every way you’re willing to give. In regards to sex,” he pauses, catching Will’s eyes. “Normality is as fluid as sexuality. Normal varies for us all, as does sexual orientation and preference.”
Will chuckles, a low, raspy thing. He rubs the back of his neck while tucking his head in avoidance. He bites the inside of his mouth, lips quivering. “You would grow tired. Frustrated, or resentful. I might not be as interesting.”
“I will always find you interesting. I always have. We are two sides of the same coin, yet you still are unpredictable to me. You undergo such beautiful transformations. I doubt that your love would not transcend that beauty. I would not abandon you merely because of a difference in orientation. Whatever love you give me will always be enough. I could never resent you for it.”
“So fucking me isn’t important to you?”
“It is not as important as being intimate with you. It is not as important as simply being with you, in whichever way you choose to be with me.”
Will nods, observing Hannibal carefully. “I crave the emotional closeness. The depths of it. I need it, I always have, and...” he eases into eye contact with the elegant man before him, who is patiently and willingly hearing him out. Realization of Hannibal’s honesty hits him then, nearly knocking the wind out of him. “Between that, and the trust in which we build off that…I can kiss you. I can lie beside you and breathe you in like I did last night, and for you, that’s really enough, isn’t it? I may obscure myself, but you always see me. Know me.”
“As you see and know me,” Hannibal confirms lovingly. In a few short, graceful strides, the distance between the two men closes again.
“Remarkable boy,” he said, cradling the back of Will’s head once more. “I think I’ll have your heart.”
Will breaks, beaming as he laughs lightly at the predator emerging through Hannibal’s human veil. “You already do.”
Hannibal kisses his forehead. Will’s breath rushes out in relief, tickling his neck, and the older man’s lips split into a delighted grin. Will’s hand brushes the side of Hannibal’s face, his head tilting up slightly as he looks at him through dark lashes.
A snout unexpectedly presses against his knee and he laughs, Hannibal laughing along with him as Luna brushes against their legs.
Hannibal cups Will’s face and presses his mouth to his, breathing levity further into the man.
Will responds, smiling into the kiss and deepening it but Hannibal breaks away to look at him like some rare gift.
“You’re all I need.”
Will’s smile broadens into a grin as he pulls him back and breathes mid-kiss, “I know.”