[ week one ➝ hannibal ]

[sweats]

[ The afternoon was honestly, a blur. He remembers talking to Ezio, curt and to the point and trying not to readily admit his reasons for this. He remembers putting together a sandwich and being annoyed that he ate something that Hannibal hadn't cooked for him. He remembers trying not to focus on Hannibal outside for a while before realizing that if he was going to do this, he'd need supplies.

So, there was a moment where Will left the hotel again on a straight shot to the General Store. He didn't look in the way of Hannibal and instead kept his eyes down and his stride direct. He wasn't sure what he would find there but he's thinking, vaguely, of Molly, which hurts in a way he doesn't quite want right now. He puts his frustrations into searching, thinking of what Molly enjoyed here. She liked candles and tea, of soft soaps and herbs that filled up their steamy bathroom and made even Will feel drowsy with contentment. He remembers sharing those times with her, of dozing with his nose pressed into her hair and soft music filling the room.

He doesn't quite realize he's back at the room until he's standing there with a pack of candles, some bath oils, and pockets full of herbs. It's not quite losing time but... but it's a near thing. He looks out the window to see Hannibal and Percy, talking to each other in the middle of their work.

Will is here though and he's committed and he's staying the -- well, he's not exactly staying the night but he is spending a while on Hannibal's couch without any urge to leave. He gets to work soon after, setting the bathroom up and going downstairs to put on some tea. It takes some effort and Will nearly abandons the venture altogether but in the end, everything is prepared just around the time Will spots Hannibal finishing and heading back to the hotel.

He hates this. He hates this. Why did he offer? What possessed him to do this?

When Hannibal finally gets there, the bathroom door is closed but even the outer room smells good from the bath, like lavender and herbal tea and warm milk. The tea Will picked is, of course, chamomile and Will sits on the couch, mug in hand and looking like he's been holding his breath much too long. He bites out immediately instead of a greeting -- ]

I changed rooms with Ezio for the night.

[ God damnit. ]

Comments

[sweats]

[ As Hannibal undresses, this seems to relax Will a little. A part of him realizes that he should probably feel the opposite, feel a kind of tenseness at the shedding of Hannibal's clothes -- but he doesn't. Hannibal's calm when it comes to his body, as it comes with all things, settles the jagged self-conscious nerves of his and instead he feels satisfied. He feels content in his ability to do something nice for Hannibal in return.

He also finds his eyes wandering, taking in the physical appearance of Hannibal for once. Will's never really had a reason to watch and beyond a passing notice that Hannibal was attractive, their entire relationship had always been intensely intimate on an emotional level -- not physical. He's also still unsure about his feelings on the fact that Hannibal's a man, eyes catching on the chest of hair and resting there for a moment. That's new. ]

Everything.

[ He breathes out slowly, leaning more solidly on the doorjamb and crossing his arms over his chest. His eyes skirt away towards the wall, staring into nothing. ]

I don't want to be your friend, or just your friend. I think we've fallen into something decidedly romantic and it's not exactly where I expected to end up. With you. I'm not opposed any longer.

[ It's almost curt how he delivers it, stripped bare from their usual circular speech, steeped in metaphor and dripping with intent. But here, with things so different and motivations so muddled, Will needs one bit of clarity for clarity's sake. Saying this means no turning back, they are a romantic couple -- full stop. There is no other way to define them. ]

I... don't think I want that to be in question during these upcoming weeks. I've been reborn, for you, and this Will Graham is yours. That's something I can promise now, as long as it's mutual.

[sating]

[ That "everything" almost gets Hannibal to pause, as if he were uncertain that he'd heard it. It shouldn't be a surprise at all, considering he had been willing for so long to give it. In fact, when he heard of Will coming to Italy to find him, he'd thought in his heart that perhaps that was Will returning it. It was doubtlessly Will returning his feelings, responding to the poetry that Hannibal had ben writing for him from the first time he left the girl on the stag, and yet, that was always the thing with the two of them. They spoke in vague words, in ones not entirely their own. Art, philosophy, theology, all of them mixed together to create the language of how they expressed their feelings, and each time, there were meanings to pick out and meanings to consider.

But for an absolute, and for how Will continues— It takes his breath away.

Quite literally, as it turns out, because there's a pause in the rise and fall of Hannibal's chest as he stands at the tub's edge. His eyes grow glassy, as they often do when he and Will share these more delicate conversations, but as always, he manages to hold back the tears that threaten to come forth. He feels-- happy. Happy, and overwhelmed, all at once, and as he releases that breath, he turns back to Will. His smile is genuine, if wry, because he's repeating words he's said before. ]

It's all I've ever wanted for both of us.

[ It's a simple response, but for once, he doesn't need to add much more or steep it in their poetry. He continues to undress, and it's only once he starts to step into the tub and sink into the water that he speaks again. ]

So it's no question. I'll consider the cliff our engagement, so to speak. [ Though he adds wryly after a moment while he settles ] Or perhaps eloping would be a better word.

[sweats]

[ Just like that, Will is once again caught in the tidal wave of emotion that comes from Hannibal. It's never a middle ground with the man -- for Will it's either everything or nothing and it grips his heart like a vice. He feels his own eyes grow watery, his throat choke and he's not sure if it's own happiness he's feeling, Hannibal's, or a mix of theirs together. The thoughts makes him shudder and he nods jerkily as he hears Hannibal say those words again.

He's struck then that he does not want to go back into the room. So, he shifts and strips down as Hannibal does -- not to the nude because there's still an icy feeling in him as he thinks of taking off his shirt in front of Hannibal, of letting the smile be seen again -- and instead it's to his boxers and t-shirt. He'll close the bathroom door behind him, leaving them in the candlelit room filled with warmth and relaxing smells. A few steps forward and he's lowering himself to the floor next to the tub, in a way that they'd be sitting shoulder to shoulder if there wasn't the porcelain barrier between them.

Despite all this, when he speaks it's still watery and breathy with emotion. ]

It's beautiful.

[ It's a bathroom with a mixture of scents and candles and in a place filled with death but what he means, truly, is any life with Hannibal is exactly what Will wants. He can't bear separation now, it would shatter him whole.

He draws his knees up to his chest then, resting his forehead against them as he continues to take shuddering breaths. His eyes close and he sniffs before letting out a wet laugh. ]

Freddie Lounds would have a field day. [ . . . ] Is having a field day.

[ Then a question, his curiosity needs Hannibal to sate it. ]

You shattered my marriage. Why?

[sating]

[ As Will starts to undress too, Hannibal doesn't watch. He's not indifferent to it (quite the opposite, actually), but there are different sensations that he's taking in with his eyes closed. The scent of everything here will certainly burn itself into his memory, from the gentle, romantic herbs, to that light scent of Will's aftershave, to the dirt on his own person. There's the warm water against his skin, the texture of the thoughtful pillow against his neck, and perhaps most of all, he thinks, the sound of Will's voice.

He thinks of something wry for a moment, a "I'm glad you haven't changed your mind," because it would be impossible at this point. It would be sincere from anyone else, but between the two of them, it was a joke. They both knew that they were inexorably intertwined. The cliche was that until death do they part, but clearly, by being here, they went beyond even that. Even in his most romantic imaginings, he couldn't have dreamed of this. Hannibal may know that this isn't technically death, but considering how they arrived here, he could hardly think of it as anything but.

He opens his eyes again as Will draws up, though his eyes stay directed to the ceiling as if he were looking up at the stars instead. He almost says something romantic and poetic, but Will speaks first. The comment draws a laugh out of him that's followed by a half-wry quirk of his lips, though it's short-lived. It could hardly stay on his face for that kind of question, but as was often the case with Hannibal, there's little hesitation in his answer. There never is when he's faced with difficult questions. ]

Because you couldn't stay. You always knew.

[ Hannibal speaks with such certainty about Will and how he feels or thinks, but really, when hasn't he? He's always known Will's thoughts. Even if he was the one to put them there in the first place. ]

Jack Crawford would have always returned to ask for your help. Circumstance aligned that when he did, it would free both of us.

[ He turns his head lightly to look down at Will, and though he's tempted to reach out and offer a comforting hand to touch him, he refrains from it. It's his own desire more than Will's, and with this question in the air, he's more delicate. ]

And, to be honest, I wanted to see you. [ He won't lie about that, at least... Though he does ask a question in return. ] Did it feel like a long three years, Will?

[sweats]

[ For a question that Will had wanted to ask for so long, he knew the answer anyway. Hannibal speaks and Will can practically predict his words as they hit the air which in the end, can only make him sigh and his shoulders relax. Hannibal is right -- he's always so god damn right, but there is still something so telling about hearing his words spoken aloud, hear all the things Will tries to ignore given voice.

A laugh escapes him, tired and accepting. There's really nothing for him to say here but -- ]

Yes, it did.

[ Because god, how he missed Hannibal. It was like a tear in his soul and while Will is always willing to shoulder the burden for the good of everything -- it still hurt, every single day. He finds himself squeezing his eyes shut tight because even with how happy he was most days just spending his quiet with Molly, there was still that ache. That... shameful, buried desire to just go back and change his circumstances, just say yes to Hannibal when he so desperately wanted to.

Jack was always going to ask for one more time and Will was always going to use it to see Hannibal again. Three years or thirty years, Will would've done the exact same thing he did if given the opportunity. When he speaks again, it's quiet and barely audible for how much shame and hurt laces the words. ]

I missed you so much.

[ And god, despite everything, they're together again. ]