Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The rain drops feel like bliss against their skin, fevered from the fight, from the fresh kill. The rain keeps them conscious, attached to the real world. They force their eyes to stay open. They fear if they let them fall shut they would not open them again and they could not bear the thought of not seeing every detail in the scene before them. They wanted to absorb it, etch it into the walls of their minds forever more. The inky wings of blood, black in the moonlight, spreading beneath Dolarhyde’s motionless form.

“This is all I ever wanted for you, Will. For both of us”

The voice is so close, it may as well have come from inside the head - as it so often did.
The whirlwind of worries, fears, hopes, thoughts, feelings, instincts condense to two words. A confession, a secret, a truth.

“It’s beautiful”

There it was, the words are said. The truth is out in the open, for the first time unaccompanied by guilt or shame. It is beautiful. The simple truth avoided for so long has finally caught up. All remnants of the fight, of the adrenaline escapes out of them. Eyes flutter shut as they pull themselves closer to each other, hands tugging at shirts with a deadly grip. The scents of blood, sweat and tears - of happiness or of despair they did not know - of pine and coffee and dog fur and wilderness, of spices and wine and musk and elegance and savagery, of comfort and familiarity and yet of a new novelty all tangle together into one perfume that permeates the air, coats them, envelopes them. The raindrops hit the ground in a steady rhythm, on beat with blood pulsing in ears, with hearts beating.

No hesitation. No unsureness. Too much time has been lost already and the millimeters separating body from body were a chasm, a void. Chest to chest. A hand on a waist. A hand on a bicep. A face presses into the crook of a neck. A jaw nuzzles against blood and sweat soaked hair. This feels right. Bodies fit each other just right. A puzzle finally comes together. Two parts of a whole. Just as it was always meant to be.

The closeness, the intimacy overwhelming and yet still not enough.

The world around slows to a crawling pace and he feels himself slipping below the surface, drowning within his own mind.

“Stay with me.” a voice says - within reality or within a mind? It doesn’t really matter either way. What an absurd thing that is to say either way.
They are two that are one.
A dyad.
The lines between them not blurred but entirely erased.
No “me” and no “you”.
Conjoined.

Where else would I go.

Eyes meet eyes. It is… night time. We are somewhere at the Chesapeake Bay in Virginia. We have slain a dragon. It is beautiful. And now…

They know the only thing that can, should, needs to be done. A final test. A final proof. A final challenge to fate. To dare separate them. To dare tear them apart as Zeus had done when he grew fearful of human’s power and split the being of four arms, four legs and two heads into two, doomed forever to search for their other half. Well now they had found their other half against all odds as they were always meant to, melded, sewed close the sever, and grew conjoined again. One being. One heart. One mind. One soul. One will.

And the world would learn to fear their power anew. And may the Gods save the poor soul that attempted to separate them again.

…Like rain we fall.

Chapter Text

Will had the vague feeling he was spinning, but at the time he did not register that Hannibal had shifted them in the air to take most of the blow from the impact with the quickly-approaching ocean surface.
The world felt light. For a fleeting moment that stretched into an eternity there was no sound, no color, no smell, no taste, no cold, no reality, only Hannibal. But then again wasn’t that how it always has been? There was nothing else that mattered. Not really. There has always been only him.

And then the moment ended.

The pain and cold, that had been dulled by Hannibal filling all of Will’s senses, returned sharp like a punch to the gut.
Knocked the air out of his lungs. The burning cold ocean filled the now vacant space with salt water, scratched at Will’s interior. He was being twisted and spun by the current below the surface. Disoriented and blacking out from pain as he was, it was instinct alone that forced him to push himself up and towards the light.
As his head broke the surface of the water the cold air and the obnoxiously bright moon finally brought Will fully back to his senses. The first thing he noticed then, even before the pain or the cold, was the jarring absence of Hannibal in his arms. No. No, no. Nonononono! With flailing arms and eyes opened wide against the sting of saltwater, Will twisted and turned himself around to search the rolling waves for any sign of the other man. Nothing. Only the looming black mass of the impossibly distant shore and the deafening crashing of the waves against rock.

Against his better judgement, against the pained screaming of his muscles and bones, against the animalistic instinct urging him to save himself, against any common sense he still held on to Will took a ragged burning breath and dove below the waves. The salt burned Will’s eyes and the moonlight hardly pierced the darkness around him but even his impaired senses were sufficient to notice the figure slowly but steadily sinking deeper down.

With all the speed he could muster Will dove deeper chasing the figure that was becoming less and less visible as less of the moonlight could reach into the depths. Will thrashed his hand forward feeling around for Hannibal and after a few moments felt fabric lightly brush over his numbing fingertips. He snatched onto it as if it were a lifeline pulling it closer until his fingers found purchase in a wrist and locked themselves around it in a deathly grip. Will started pulling them both up but the ascent was slower now that he was carrying the weight of two, and the remaining oxygen supply in Will’s lungs was depleting quickly. The surface was close when Will felt water pour down his throat again, saw the final bubbles of air float from his mouth. He screamed. He screamed an animalistic screech, the sound lost to the waves. Will’s instincts took over, the animal within him fighting to survive, made him take the final few desperate strokes.

His head was spinning from the lack of oxygen and was coughing and sputtering when his head finally surfaced above water. He forced himself to breathe, to recover, and to pull Hannibal up and hold him with one arm under the armpits, to keep his head above water. “Think” was the last thing Will imagined he could do then, yet think he did. With a quick glance he analysed his surroundings, his eyes finally landing on what appeared to be a thin strip of rocky beach a hundred or so feet away - their best chance. With all his strength Will pushed through the water, his limbs numb and unieldy, until his feet finally hit the rocky bottom. With the last remainder of his strength Will hauled their two bodies up onto the beach and collapsed atop the pebbles biting into his back.

More than anything Will wanted to close his eyes, to fade into a dreamless sleep. He almost questioned why he bothered to get them out of the water. No! Will snapped his eyes wide open and not allowing himself a second of hesitation, lest he give up, jerked himself to a sitting position with one sharp movement. Now that the rush adrenaline that aided his survival finally depleted Will was acutely aware of all the ways in which his body had hurt. His punctured cheek, his shoulder, his throat burning from the salt water, his ribs that had to have been broken in the fall, his left arm that he assumed also got damaged in the fall. Ignoring the pain he dragged himself by his arms to Hannibal’s side, the man was lying still as a statue, his chest unmoving - “no sign of breathing” Will’s logical mind offered.
“Hannibal” no response
“Hannibal” Will’s voice sounded hoarse and cracked as he whispered his screams into the darkness - he received no response.

Will’s fingers felt Hannibal's neck searching for any warmth, any sign of life. And there faint, almost entirely absent Will felt the fading beats of Hannibal’s heart.
Will scrambled to his knees and on top of Hannibal, remembering as best he could the CPR lessons. Tilt the head back, push down hard and fast, 30 compressions at a rate of 100-120 compressions per minute - Will’s logical mind suggested helpfully. Will nodded to himself and from then muscle memory took over.

After the first set of compressions his mind reminded him again - rescue breaths, pinch the nose, blow into the mouth for around a second until you see the chest rise. Will obeyed and his lips touched Hannibal’s. This is wrong, not at all how Will had pictured it, when their lips were to touch for the first time it should have been slow and purposeful, it shouldn’t have been like this. Somehow this was the thought that sent tears spilling from Will’s eyes. He leaned back to observe for any signs of life.

“No no no no no” -chest compressions. “don’t you dare die on me you bastard!” - rescue breaths, and then again and again.
After what felt like hours, but couldn't have been more than minutes, with no success Will still could not make himself give up. As he pushed on Hannibal’s chest once again a pathetic pleading cry escaped his lips “Please don’t leave me, Hannibal, please”. As Will was about to lean towards Hannibal’s face once again the man below his stirred. Will jumped off him in an instant letting Hannibal turn to his side to cough up the salt water that was filling his lungs.

After Hannibal was able to breath again he sat upright with a pained groan and his blurry eyes drifted around his surroundings until they finally found Will. The man was on his knees a few feet away gazing at Hannibal with such a delicious mix of fear, worry, relief and - an emotion Hannibal had not even hoped to see in those eyes - love.

“Will”
Will was on him in a second, crying, clutching onto him for dear life and mumbling incomprehensible fragments of words.
Hannibal pulled back slightly to meet the other man’s eyes. “Hush, Will. I am alright” despite the pain Hannibal stroked one hand through Will’s tangled mess of curls while his other cupped Will’s face.

Will stared at his hands clutching at Hannibal’s shirt, and noticed the absence of the gold wedding band on his ring finger. His lips curled into a weak smile. A life for a life. The ocean took from him as a sacrifice his old peaceful life with Molly and traded it for Hannibal’s life, returning the breath to his lungs. Will leaned into Hannibal's touch. He was not dreaming. Not hallucinating. Hannibal was there. And Hannibal was alive. It was a fair trade Will decided.

Both men wished they could stay entangled in each other’s arms like this on the rocky beach in the cold dark night for an eternity. Both understood that they could not.
Hannibal was the first to shift and to stop his petting of Will’s hair. Will took the signal and forced himself upright. His knees buckled and he almost fell before catching himself on a nearby boulder. He took a few breaths readying himself before he felt confident he wouldn’t fall. He reached out a hand to Hannibal who, despite everything, still somehow managed to accept it in the most graceful way. Though as Hannibal attempted to stand up all this grace vanished as he fell back down and gritted his teeth against the intense spike of pain in his leg. It didn’t take more than a glance for him to see that the knee was rotated at an unnatural angle - at the very least it was dislocated. He tentatively touched the area and jerked his hand back from the pain - the worst of his suspicions were correct - it was broken. Without saying a word Will leaned closer, snaking an arm around Hannibal’s midsection, and Hannibal put an arm over Will’s neck. With another groan the two managed to get into a somewhat upright position leaning heavily on each other for support. The pain was unbearable but they made themselves bear it as they started away from the water and to a part of the slope that wasn’t quite as steep as the rest, “due to an avalanche probably” the thought flitted through Will’s mind.

The climb was difficult and by the time they were at the top both wanted to rest and both knew that if they stopped to rest they wouldn’t be getting back up. The sea had washed them further away than Will had thought but the house was still their best bet.

As they stumbled towards the house they saw a police car with it’s door strewn open parked nearby - Will tensed in anticipation, fear freezing the blood in his veins. Hannibal followed his line of sight - “Dolarhyde” he rasped. Will shook his head stiffly “I know. It's a police car - they all got trackers on them”. They needed to hurry.

They picked their pace up - Will the somewhat more alive of the pair half dragged Hannibal through the window Dolarhyde had broken through earlier in the night and sat Hannibal up against a wall. As soon as Hannibal was sat his eyes squeezed shut from the twisting pain in his spine - the weight of his body laid fully on what he assumed to be broken vertebrae.
“Hannibal” Will called out sharply “Medical supplies.”

Not opening his eyes Hannibal vaguely gestured in the direction of the bathroom.
Will stumbled through the house rummaging carelessly through the tidily organized cabinets until he found the medkit which was stacked up with what would be considered above the normal amount and variety of supplies. With it in his hands he knelt by Hannibal as he called out to the other man. “We need to stop the bleeding. And deal with your leg” Will caught Hannibal’s blurry gaze “Focus. Tell me what to do”.
Hannibal forced his mind to clear, abstract himself from the pain. The other man’s hands were shaking and stumbling at first but he quickly gathered himself and steadied his grip. Slowly he guided him through the actions, first jerking the dislocated knee back to its rightful place - Hannibal hissed at the sharp pain - then cleaning and disinfecting the bullet wound in his side before wrapping it with gauze. Hannibal rumbled through the medication in his medkit before settling on the antibiotic and the pain killer he felt were most appropriate for the situation. After swallowing his two pills dry he passed Will two as well.
The pain killers were strong and only after a few short moments Hannibal’s burning pain subsided to a dull ache in the leg and spine. With that he leaned up to inspect Will’s wounds. The other man had begun to protest but Hannibal silenced him with a stern glance. Will had no energy to fight him on it.

Dealing with the gash in Will’s cheek and the stab wound in Will’s shoulder had taken all the energy Hannibal had left. Or maybe the blood loss was finally catching up to him, after all the gauze could not stop the bleeding entirely.
As he was quickly fading into unconsciousness he firmly tugged at Will’s sleeve bringing him closer. He tried to convey as much information to the man as he could. “The bedroom. The Dali. 0.. 5.. 2.. 3.. 2..0.. 1.. 4.” - Hannibal's voice faded into a barely audible whisper - “The garage. Car. Keys under the.. under the hood”.

Will stumbled up to the upstairs bedroom glancing around the room. “The Dali” Hannibal had said. His eyes landed on a nonsensical painting of melting clocks and butterflies and branches that looked like antlers - Will with his limited knowledge of art could only assume this was the painting Hannibal had mentioned. He ran his fingers over the frame and then without hesitation tore it down from the wall. He punched the code into the pinpad on the safe before it could escape his mind. All the safe contained was a small leather cross-body bag. No time to check - Will swung it over his shoulder grimacing at the sharp jolt of pain and made his way back downstairs. It took a few long minutes to find the garage and the car parked inside. Will even in his current state couldn’t help but scoff at the sleek black Range Rover before him. Of course Will thought - he couldn’t expect anything less from Hannibal. At least, he supposed, it wasn’t too garish or attention grabbing all things considered.

After starting the car and turning the AC unit to warm Will went back to the house for Hannibal. The man had passed out slumped against the wall - he did not stir when Will called out to him. Will breathed a sigh of relief as he noticed the shallow rise and fall of Hannibal’s chest. The mighty beast he was, the cocktail of blood-loss, pain and painkillers had finally caught up even to him. With a pained and exhausted grunt Will lowered himself to one knee and maneuvered his hands under Hannibal’s knee and upper back. He carried the man slowly and carefully through the house, each step a herculean effort. Will carefully arranged Hannibal on the back seats to have his spine as straight as could be done in the cramped space - aware of the back injury the other man had suffered, and for his sake no less - the self-sacrificial bastard. Will wanted to get on the road as soon as possible and was about to get in the driver’s seat when his logical brain stopped him. “Get the medkit, get clothes, get weapons”.

Cursing his own common sense and Hannibal’s newfound altruism in the attempt to protect him during the fall Will raced back up to the bedroom. He scavenged the closet for a bag and finally settled on a duffle bag he deemed sufficiently large. It was of course of the highest quality, shining black leather and some Italian brand name etched into the handles. Will shoved a careless heap of clothes into the bag, before continuing down stairs and doing the same to the medkit. At last he paid a visit to the kitchen and grabbed some of Hannibal’s pristine kitchen knives - they went into the duffle bag as well. Will had thought there may be a gun hidden somewhere within the house but he would not let himself waste precious time searching for it.

Will chucked both bags into the front seat and floored the gas pedal eager to put as much distance between them and the house that Jack would undoubtedly locate, and soon.

Chapter Text

Once he was on the highway he forced himself to breathe, to think. His brain protested at the notion - it was thrumming from exhaustion and excitement of the previous 24 hours. Where was he driving? Damn it, Hannibal would’ve had the answer. But Hannibal was unconscious in the back seat. All because of Will. What was he thinking? Throwing them off a 30-something-foot cliff? And Hannibal protected Will even then. And Will… ungrateful, foolish, self-righteous- No. This wasn’t the time. Will jerked his head away from the thoughts that had already quickly begun to overwhelm him. Forced himself to think. Where should he drive? Jack would be coming from the North, from Baltimore. The logical direction to head would be down South, away from Jack. South would be the simplest answer, so that is where they will search for them. West then Will decided. And so he drove, shooting quick glances at Hannibal in the backseat every few seconds and holding his breath whenever a car passed by him. Will mentally thanked Hannibal for his fancy car with his fancy tinted windows.

Dawn broke just as the GPS in Hannibal’s car informed Will that they had crossed the state line over to West Virginia. He turned from the main highway to a more deserted side road - cracked and overgrown. Will decided though that he was willing to sacrifice some speed for inconspicuousness. As the car bumped down along the old road he took one hand from the steering wheel and fumbled with the mysterious bag Will had extracted from the safe at Hannibal’s request. He brought out the items up to his eyes one by one: a thick wad of cash, a cardholder with a few cards - Will couldn’t be bothered to extract the cards from their resting places to check the name, and three…? three Argentinian passports.
The first had a photo of Hannibal and a name: “Corvin Cervone”.
The second a photo of Will, though he could barely recognize himself to be the same person as the one staring back at him from the rearview mirror. The name “Claudio Cervone”
Will raised an eyebrow at the same surname - he would have to ask Hannibal or Corvin about that if– when he woke up.
He opened the third passport and his heart caught in his throat - familiar, round, permanently-frightened round eyes stared up at him from the paper. The name read: “Inés Cervone”.
Will swallowed the lump in his throat and with a trembling hand dragged the passport away from his eyes and shoved all of his findings back into the bag.
Hannibal had made a failsafe for all three of them, a plan in case his home in Baltimore had been compromised and the French documents he had made for them - discovered, he had been prepared for everything. Except… for what did happen. Except for what Will had done. Oh Abigail… She could have been alive. They could have been happy, they could have been a family. If only Will hadn’t… No! And then Will was angry, tears clouded his vision threatening to spill from his eyes. He blinked away the tears. That was Hannibal’s doing. Hannibal - always taking everything away from him. His sanity, his peace, his morals, his family, his life, his– Will glanced at the sleeping man through the rear view mirror –heart. The anger dissipated as quickly as it came. Hannibal was laying still and unmoving in the backseat. He hadn’t shifted by an inch from how Will had placed him. Worry choked Will and he pulled up on the side of the road.
He had to see what he sacrificed everything for. Had to make sure Hannibal was alive. Had to see him wake him up. He couldn’t bear the uncertainty a second longer. As Will leaned his ear against the man’s chest he heard Hannibal's heartbeat slower and quieter than Will would have liked but unfaltering. His chest was rising and falling steadily. Will called out to Hannibal but got no response. Unconsciously Will’s hand raised to Hannibal’s cheek and caressed the tender flesh that was now bruised shades of yellowish and purple. With the residual aftertaste of anger on his tongue he pressed down on the abused skin - “Hannibal” - he called again. Hannibal’s eyes shot open.

Will hung his head and closed his with an audible sigh of relief .
“Will?”
“This is the second time you weren’t responding in the last 24 hours. The second time I thought you were dead. The second time I thought you left me ” Will barked out the words before he could stop himself - they rang sharper than what he intended but his voice was shaking from the emotions he couldn’t let himself have. Hannibal stayed silent. “How are you feeling?” all bitterness was gone from Will’s voice as he kneeled leaning into the backside of the car to be level with Hannibal’s eyes.
Hannibal experimentally moved his arms in the cramped space, strained his legs - winced at the action, and lifted himself slightly to take in the state of his body. “Surprisingly adequate I suppose - all things considered” his voice was rough like gravel from disuse. Will reached into the front seat and opened one of the bottles of water that Hannibal had prudently stocked the car with. Hannibal forced himself to take slow-measured swallows.

When he was done he glanced around through the car windows “Where are we?”. Will glanced quickly at the GPS “West Virginia, a few miles from the border. We’re going west”.
Hannibal's eyes narrowed and Will could see the cogs turning.
“We need to get settled somewhere soon - we cannot handle getting out of the country yet, not in our current state. With our wounds we need rest and time to recover.”. Will nodded and Hannibal continued “My nearest safehouse is in Arkansa, Norfork - it is far less comfortable than my other residences but is also perhaps the most inconspicuous of them all”.
“All right, yeah that’s fine” Will nodded half heartedly, barely processing the words, was about to close the door and reclaim his driver’s seat when Hannibal had tugged at Will’s sleeve to regain his attention.
“We need to change our bandages if we are to have any hope of avoiding infection.” Hannibal’s voice had turned clinical. He eyed Will’s bloodied and torn shirt and added “And our clothes if we do not want to be noticed”. There was doubt in Hannibal’s voice “perhaps we could stop at a gas station…” - he stopped as Will ruffled through the duffle bag and extracted a pair of shirts and pants - tossing one of the sets to Hannibal. His lips curled into a small smile as silent pride gleamed behind the red irises.

Will currently had no energy to feel ashamed for stripping down in front of the other man to change. As he turned to Hannibal he saw the other man struggling against his own shirt. With a sigh Will came to his side and guided him to a sitting position. “I assure you, Will, I am more than capable…” Hannibal had protested before Will had cut him off “Just shut up and let me help you for once”. Once Hannibal’s shirt was off Will winced at the sight of the bruised back - painted almost entirely black and blue and a sickly shade of yellow from the impact. Then - WIll’s breath caught in his throat - lower on the back was an ugly pattern of raised scar tissue. Without thinking, Will ran his fingers over the lines, over the blurred letters of the “Verger” name, felt muscle tense imperceptibly under his fingertips. He didn’t need his gift of empathy to know what had happened - a searing hot branding iron, the stench of melting flesh, the white hot overwhelming pain - the kind of pain people black out from. Will instinctively knew Hannibal hadn’t blacked out, hadn’t screamed, hadn’t as much as twitched - he would have closed his eyes, exhaled slowly through his nose as the pain shot through his every muscle and tendon and every hair on his head, opened his eyes and made a witty jab at his executioner with his voice smooth, even and mildly amused as usual.
The feeling unfurling in Will’s gut wasn’t quite pity - he knew Hannibal wouldn’t appreciate pity - no, what he felt was almost outrage. That someone dared hurt his Hannibal, that someone dared taint his pristine skin. His nails dug into the bulging lines of the brand, leaving red streaks behind them. When Will registered he was practically clawing at the mark he snatched his hand back studying the skin and blood he had accumulated beneath his fingernails, he felt Hannibal’s curious gaze on him.

“Mason wanted to ensure I am to get the full experience of a pig”
“How did you kill hi-” Will met Hannibal’s gaze and narrowed his eyes at the sparks of amusement in the deep maroon, cut himself off “-no. You didn’t, did you? But took the blame. Why?”
“Margot and Alana had offered me a deal. Your life in exchange for an alibi”
“That’s how you got out. That’s why you didn’t make good on your promise to her” Will’s voice grew softer and despite himself he felt tears well up in his eyes and he murmured the realisation so quiet Hannibal was sure he was talking to himself “For me”

Will broke eye contact first. As he cleared his throat and stared down at Hannibal’s bandages he could feel his ears turning red “I’ll need you to tell me what to do”.

Will’s fingers were exceedingly gentle as he replaced the bandages on Hannibal's torso under his instruction and though gentleness wasn’t something Hannibal welcomed often Will had always been the exception and he practically melted into the touch. Hannibal did the same with the bandages on Will’s shoulder and cheek, letting his hands linger perhaps slightly longer than was strictly necessary - admired the red colour Will’s pallid and exhausted face turned at the caresses. They both swallowed their next dose of antibiotics and painkillers.

“I can drive” Hannibal offered, eyeing the dark circles under Will’s eyes “You need rest, Will”.

“I’ll rest when I’m dead” Will retorted with a joyless chuckle and momentarily winced from the pain in his cheek. He helped Hannibal ease into a lying position once again to relieve the pressure on his spine which had taken the most damage in the fall. The sun was high by the time they were back on the road. They stayed silent. Shallow conversation wasn’t meant for someone like them and they, or Will at least, wasn’t ready to dive into the deeper topics. In the ringing silence his mind was too loud and Will fumbled with the controls on the radio cycling through music stations before he landed on a news broadcast.

A woman’s voice sounded from the speaker: “...cis Dolarhyde also known as the “Tooth Fairy” has been found dead in a house overlooking Chesapeake Bay. The FBI have disclosed that the cause of death were a slashing wound on his abdomen and a torn wound on the neck. The police have discovered DNA evidence of FBI agent Will Graham and the recently escaped notorious serial killer Hannibal Lecter also known under the name Chesapeake Ripper or Hannibal the Cannibal on scene. A camera was also discovered at the crime scene and while video footage has not been made public yet, according to the FBI the recording showed the fight between Dolarhyde, Lecter and Graham. Will Graham and Hannibal Lecter had killed Dolarhyde before falling off the cliff and into the Chesapeake bay. No bodies have been discovered so far. Even though both are presumed dead the FBI advises caution and requests that any sightings of Will Graham and Hannibal Lecter be reported immediately.”.

Will leaned his head against the seat and momentarily closed his eyes with a sigh. “The camera…” his eyes snapped open, his brows furrowed “should have been pointing at the wall. It should have shown us returning to the house and… it couldn’t have captured the fight or the fall unless… You!”. His eyes darted to the man splayed across the backseat. Hannibal’s eyes fluttered open and he met his gaze unabashedly “Yes, Will, me.”
“But why?” Will furrowed his brows.
“I knew our final fight would be art. I wanted to capture it, to immortalize it-”
“To share it with the world” Will finished for him “You wanted everyone to see us. Even if they couldn’t truly see”
Hannibal’s eyes glistened with something warm, something painfully akin to affection. Will could understand him.
Will brought his eyes back on the road and for a minute stayed silent chewing on his bottom lip lost in thought. “I suppose it worked out to our advantage. “Presumed dead” is good.” Will concluded out loud, but something about the radio broadcast still didn’t sit quite right with him - he couldn’t figure out what. “They still found our DNA all over the house though but they’ll think we left it there before the fight because that’s what they’ll want to think.”

Hannibal was fading in and out of consciousness from pain and exhaustion and Will was listening to abhorrent rock music on the radio to distract himself. They were halfway through Indiana when the red arrow of the gas dial was getting dangerously close to zero. As Will pulled the car to the nearest gas station his chest tightened - the mere thought of letting Hannibal out of his sight made his heart thunder. He grit his jaw and pocketed a scalpel from the medkit, rummaged the car in search of anything to conceal his identity. After finally settling on Hannibal’s sunglasses tucked away in a specialized compartment in the car he grabbed some cash and with a final glance at the figure in the back seats, dragged himself out of the car. He refilled the gas tank himself and made his way inside the gas station building. Even though all his instincts screamed for him to run, to hunch over, to hide his face he forced his hunched shoulders to straighten slightly and plastered on a small yet tired smile that tugged painfully at his cheek wound. The painkillers he had taken earlier were already starting to wear off but it was not yet time to take more unless he wanted to risk an overdose - he couldn’t afford to lose what little clarity he had. He browsed the aisles for anything he thought he could stomach to eat. His eyes kept wandering to the car parked outside, ensuring it was still there, ensuring Hannibal was still there, wouldn’t fade away like mist, wouldn’t leave him alone and ensuring no one attempted to approach, to discover them, to separate them again. Finally he settled on a few bananas and approached the cashier. He eyed the stack of newspapers on the counter and though he didn’t want to take any risks beyond what was necessary his curiosity got the better of him. He took a newspaper, attempting to stay as casual as possible. His worry however, turned out to be entirely unwarranted since the young man didn’t even raise his eyes to Will’s face as he pointed to a small screen displaying the total.

After paying Will hurried back to the car and settled to read the newspaper article . Unsurprisingly his and Hannibal’s faces decorated the front page. He scanned the article - at first glance it seemed everything was working out in their favor - “no new development to the case yet”, “none of the reported sightings were confirmed”, “the FBI advise caution”. He passed the newspaper article to Hannibal as he pulled out of the gas station and back on the highway. Something wasn’t right. The article didn’t sound urgent, wasn’t blaring any warnings to watch out for a serial killer on the loose, it all but confirmed that no one knew they were alive, all but confirmed that they were presumed dead and yet… something wasn’t quite right. Just how the radio report earlier hadn’t been quite right. He and Hannibal came to the realization at the same time:

“They’re searching for us”. Will snapped up “Jack doesn’t believe we’re dead. Otherwise there wouldn’t be a case, otherwise the FBI wouldn’t be advising caution. Otherwise they wouldn’t be rushing around to check all the reported sightings.” he shook his head “ I guess it was too much to hope that they wouldn’t catch on that we’re alive. But I couldn’t waste time cleaning the evidence”.

Hannibal nodded in agreement “We will need to remain careful. Jack is a smart man and we are not in our prime currently.”

Chapter Text

It was past dusk by the time they reached Arkansas and Will was barely able to keep his eyes open. Hannibal’s hideout was not on the map so Will had to transfer the man to the front passenger seat for the last part of their journey to instruct him. The house, nothing more than a decently small cabin really, was deep in a forest just south of Norfork as Hannibal had said. The abandoned road leading to the house was entirely overgrown with plants and coated with dirt and could easily be mistaken for a natural clearing in the forest had Hannibal not specifically pointed it out to Will. Traveling the uneven and rocky, across the hills surrounding the house was not easy on their wounds.

After parking the car with another painful jolt of a heart at letting Hannibal out of sight, Will transferred their few belongings to the living room and returned to the car to see Hannibal attempting to clamber out on his own. The man took a few steps and Will could see the beads of sweat pooling on Hannibal's forehead from the effort. Will caught him as he fell to the ground with a sharp hiss. He picked Hannibal up with one hand under his knees and the other under his lower back, winced at the pain in his left arm, but carried him to the front door. Possibly from the shock or possibly from simple pragmatism Hannibal surprisingly did not protest. The situation registered in Will’s mind even in his current barely-alive, sleep-deprived state. He hesitated before the threshold and reddish blush crept up his neck and painted his cheeks a bright red. With a sharp exhale Will took the final step and carried Hannibal over the threshold and up the stairs to what he assumed to be the master bedroom. Regardless of the exhaustion he followed Hannibal’s orders and brought the medkit out once again. They sat next to each other on the bed and with already practiced movements Will tended to Hannibal's wounds. Ignoring the pain, he leaned into the warm touch when Hannibal did the same with his.

By the time Hannibal had finished bandaging Will’s shoulder he saw the younger man had fallen fast asleep right where he was, sitting on the bed, leaning on Hannibal. Almost instinctively Hannibal ran a hand through the dirty and tangled mess of chocolate curls atop Will’s head and realised he was smiling. Hannibal carefully moved them to a lying position and as soon as his head touched the pillows fell asleep as well.

That night both slept peacefully; nightmares did not dare disturb them.

When Will woke up the sun was already setting again. His head pounded. His entire body ached. But neither of those were the first thing Will took notice of when he came to consciousness. The first thing Will noticed was the press of the warm body beside him. He was curled up with his arm and leg carelessly strewn over the torso of the Chesapeake ripper, the Copycat killer, Il Mostro de Fiorenze, the notorious serial killer and cannibal, Doctor Hannibal Lecter. And he was happy. As his overexerted mind finally started processing the situation the proximity finally registered. However, as soon as Will stirred to untangle himself from the man, Hannibal’s eyes fluttered open. “Good morning, Will” - a smile, a genuine smile, one that Will so rarely saw on his face, graced Hannibal’s features.
“Good morning” Will stumbled out of the bed almost falling to the floor. He grimaced at the pain that shot through his ribs in retaliation for his jerky movements.
“Is there food in the house?”
“Some canned goods-” Hannibal’s mouth twitched downward in disgust “- some pasta and grains and some frozen vegetables and meats in the freezer”
Will’s eyebrow curved up in question “long pig?”
“Regular meat” Hannibal expertly hid his disappointment at Will’s worry “No need to worry”
“I’ll make breakfast” Will nodded at headed out of the bedroom. “Oh, and Hannibal?” He paused at the bedroom door, twisting his head back slightly to look at Hannibal from the corner of his eye in that very specific way characteristic only to Will Graham “I wasn’t worried about the meat-” a smirk tugged at his lips and a hint of amusement laced his voice “-only curious”. He left before Hannibal could respond. When had he gotten so transparent in his emotions? Or when had Will gotten so good at reading him? Hannibal watched as the man made his way downstairs, his heartbeat inexplicably sped up when the man disappeared out of sight. The urge to follow Will was overwhelming but as soon as Hannibal made a move to follow through sharp pain shot through his entire body and despite his iron will he was of flesh and blood after all. He remained where he was.

Will was no Hannibal in the kitchen but his experience from a very-not-rich upbringing helped him construct a decent enough meal out of what was available at hand. After an half-an-hour or so Will walked upstairs with two steaming bowls of red rice and beans in hand and a stupid grin plastered across his face. He handed Hannibal, who had moved to a half-sitting position by the headboard with pillows under his damaged back, one of the bowls with a fork sticking out of it. Hannibal eyed the bowl suspiciously but had to admit the aroma was enticing especially after over 48 hours without a proper meal.
Will was giddy with excitement as he watched Hannibal take a tentative bite “Rice and beans - it’s something me and my dad used to have all the time back in Luisiana. I would make a big portion for the both of us at least once a week, it would last us a couple of days.” Will took a bite of his own hissing out against the pain from the heat of the meal touching his wounded cheek “I haven’t had it in years. Never really thought to make it for myself - didn’t feel right making it for one”.
“It is good” Hannibal acknowledged studying Wil over the bowl - he didn’t think he had ever seen the man this excited about something. He made a mental note of it - added it to the room in his mind palace dedicated solely to Will. “You seem happy”
“We’re alive, Hannibal! Despite everything, we’re both breathing, and free and here and…” he caught himself before the word could slip out, Hannibal finished for him “Together.”
Their eyes met and a furious blush spread across Will’s cheeks. Hannibal could see his pupils blown wide, he could only assume his own were too. Will shook and turned his head down to hide his face. They finished their meal in silence with Will expertly, having years of experience in the business, avoiding Hannibal’s gaze.

After the meal was done and the dishes had been carried back down to the kitchen Will had no choice but to face the other man properly. And though with the confusing thoughts swirling around his mind, facing Hannibal was not an easy course of action, it was miles better than not being near Hannibal at all.“We really need to take care of our wounds properly, figure out exactly what’s wrong and deal with it”.
“I’ll examine you, Will, please hand me the medkit and remove your sweater and trousers.”

Hannibal ran his long fingers over the places on Will’s body where he suspected damage with clinical precision - taking note of Will's sharp inhales and clenched teeth. “Five ribs - fortunately only cracked, not fractured fully, a bruised bone in the left arm, bruising on your chest and abdominals - also nothing severe. The knife wounds on your shoulder and cheek - need sutures. Overall nothing critical but you should attempt to refrain from using your left-arm for at least a week and avoid disturbing your ribs for four.” Hannibal searched through the medkit and selected the suture tools and small bottle and syringe; he placed the medkit away. Hannibal noticed how Will’s eyes narrowed at the sight of the syringe; a heavy feeling stirred in his chest, perhaps something akin to regret, he shooed the feeling away, heard himself explaining “It’s a local anaesthetic. I’m sure you can manage the shoulder wound but sewing up your cheek without it would be… unpleasant”.
Will remained motionless for a few moments considering, then closed his eyes and let out a sharp exhale. An uneven grin twisted his features - he knew that unpleasant in Hannibal-speak meant:really-fucking-painful. He nodded his head stiffly. Hannibal felt Will was pulled taught as a bowstring when he injected the anesthetic to his cheek. Hannibal made quick work of the wound before moving on to the shoulder. Will tensed and Hannibal could see his jaws clenched against the pain.

“I will need your help for the next part, Will” Hannibal had asked after he finished tending to Will’s wounds. Will replaced his own clothes and helped Hannibal take off his. Now that his mind was clear he had the decency to blush at the sight of the man almost entirely naked. Still he shook off the flush of his cheeks and proceeded to move his fingers across Hannibal’s back according to the instructions he was given. He let Hannibal lean on him as the older man examined his own leg and the bullet wound on the torso. After Hannibal’s examination was finished Will noticed the slight crease between his eyebrows “What’s wrong? Is it bad?” Will had worry written across his face and in his voice as he caught Hannibal’s gaze.

“It’s not ideal. The femur is fractured; it will require a brace and close to 4 months to heal. The bullet passed cleanly through and did not touch any vital organs but will require sutures.” Hannibal paused “The spine however, concerns me most. Based on your inspection at least two vertebrae are fractured, I can’t know the full extent of the damage with certainty but if my assumptions are correct it may require up to 12 weeks to heal during which I will not be able to put pressure on my spine at risk of lengthening the recovery period further or permanent paralysis. Which means I have to avoid driving, even as a passenger - we were lucky on our drive here that the fracture did not shift, walking for extended periods of time or any other similar activities. But most importantly I will not be able to fly for at least 9 of the 12 weeks. The changes in pressure could lead to paralysis.”
“Wait fly?”
“Yes. The reason I purchased this property specifically as a safehouse, aside from the reclusion, is the proximity to an airport. 40 miles north of here is an airport which houses my private plane in case I need to leave the country urgently and “under the radar” so to speak.”
Will shook his head in disbelief “Of course you would have a private escape jet”. he let out an incredulous laugh “Just how many contingency plans and escape routes and safe houses do you have?”
A faint smile played on Hannibal’s lips, “When one is in my… profession, it is always best to be prepared for anything.”
“Well the private jet will have to wait a few weeks longer” Will’s features grew serious “Now tell me what to do? How do we deal with the broken bones and the rest of the injuries?”
“I’m afraid there’s nothing we can do to speed up the recovery process of the spinal fracture. The femur will, however, require a brace and the bullet wound will need stitches - I can handle the front but for the back I will need your assistance.”

Hannibal extracted a new set of suture tools but saw that there was no local anesthetic remaining. “Will, could you please bring me the medkit from the bathroom, I would prefer to operate on myself with anaesthetic”.
“Yeah sure” Will got up “Wait what about that one?” he said pointing to a bottle similar to the one Hannibal extracted before.
“My own cocktail based in Midazolam, that-” Hannibal picked his words carefully “-I’m afraid, is too strong for our current purposes. I need to keep a clear mind”
Will’s eyes narrowed again but he nodded quickly and headed for the bathroom.

The same heavy feeling returned. Hannibal of course didn’t feel remorseful for what he had done - it was after all necessary, and a step that brought them here, to this moment - but there was still a pang of regret that Will felt unease with him. There was nothing to be done about that as of yet though so Hannibal stored the feeling somewhere deep inside his mind to revisit and deal with later. After Will had returned with the new medkit Hannibal sewed up the wound on the front of his torso as Will watched and had the man replicate his actions as best he could on his back.
“And the leg?” Will had asked after he had finished, wiping the sweat that had formed from the effort on his brow.
“I do not have a ready-made brace but any straight rigid object, some padding and some elastic bandages will do as a splint” Hannibal thought aloud.
Will nodded hesitantly “I’ll look around the house I guess” - glanced back almost like a scolded dog being ordered out as he left the room.

In a few minutes he returned with a broken off broom handle and Hannibal couldn’t help but register the exhale of relief he breathed out when Will came back.
After the splint was in place with some clothes as padding both men were already exhausted once again and the sun had reached the horizon.

They took their painkillers and antibiotics and Will got up from the bed. He lingered in the doorway and Hannibal almost thought he would change his mind.
“Good night, Hannibal” he left before Hannibal could say anything else. With a disappointed sight he adjusted his position under the covers. Let his thoughts wander to Will. He wished Will would process the events better, would accept the closeness, and would not hide himself. But Alas. Hannibal wouldn’t push, at least not yet - he already learned the hard way Will needs time to adjust on his own or he will only pull further away from the pressure. That’s fine. Hannibal was a patient man. He had waited four years for Will’s becoming, for Will’s closeness, for Will. He could wait a little more.

Chapter Text

Will’s eyes twitched to the flashing green numbers on the analogue clock on his bedside table - 4:21 am. He got up from the bed. The moonlight coated the walls and cast shadows where there were none during the day - the house looked entirely foreign. Will stumbled out into the hallway and saw the door to Hannibal's room was open a sliver. As he took a step towards it fear twisted in his belly - why he could not say. He peeked into the room but found it empty. The covers of the bed were messed up and as his eyes drifted to the floor he saw an inky-black liquid splattered across the room. It trailed out of the room and with a growing panic Will followed the path winding out of the cabin and into the ghostly moonlit forest.

Will screamed Hannibal’s name as he raced into the forest but his voice came out a ragged whisper, gravel-coarse. The trees towered above him as Will spun in all directions looking for any signs of the other man, claustrophobic in his absence. He heard a huff near his shoulder, like an animal exhaling near him, and when he pivoted to look in the direction he saw a dark shadow - the ravenstag with shimmering feathers reflecting the pale moonlight - disappearing between the trees. Will chased after the figure but no matter how fast he ran it always remained just barely in sight, slipping from tree to tree. Eventually he stopped as he found himself in a clearing with no traces of the stag anywhere; a dark and familiar house was looming over him; there were no lights on inside. The door was partially opened and he heard another huff coming from within. He stepped inside, his feet carrying him instinctually through the foyer, through the hallway, into the kitchen. As he crept into the darkened room he saw a black figure with branching antlers standing in the center with its back to him. It seemed to have noticed the intrusion and slowly turned around; Will steeled himself waiting to see anger and ferocity in the milky white eyes, for the creature to pounce and rip at his throat. Instead as their eyes met, where Will had expected to animosity he was met with a warm content love and something else he could only describe as pity. Then its features started morphing, and its antlers and ink black skin swirled and dissipated into smoke revealing Hannibal beneath it. He gave Will one of his rare genuine smiles, the ones that reached his eyes and held his hand out for Will.

Will’s feet moved of their own accord, and he was in Hannibal’s arms, a firm hand cupping his cheek. He moved one hand to Hannibal’s back clinging onto the man but then felt his other hand rise without his command and glanced down. There was a split second in which Will registered the knife he was holding before, despite his own internal protests, he plunged it into Hannibal’s stomach. He tried to scream but no sound came out. He wanted to still his hand but it refused to obey as slow but inescapable the knife dragged across Hannibal’s stomach, parting the flesh beneath the blade with a wet squelching to paint a gruesome parody of a smile. Slowly his arm, that wasn’t his, pulled the knife out and let it clatter to the floor. Will’s eyes moved to meet Hannibal’s - the crimson irises harbored no malice or pain, only that same distant sense of pity and that same love he saw in the beast’s eyes before. The man’s body shuddered then went limp in his grasp as Hannibal’s hands around him clutched at him for a momement before going lax as well. The one arm Will had around Hannibal was not enough to support the man’s weight and he slipped out of Will’s grasp and to the floor. Will felt tears that did not spill well up behind his eyes, a silent scream bubbled in his chest but did not burst out. All of his muscles were locked and he could do nothing except stare paralysed as Hannibal bled out on the cold floor, the same loving, pitying serene expression on his regal features.

The pool of blood below Hannibal’s body creeped out and spread to cover the entire kitchen, to lick at Will’s feet. Still Hannibal’s eyes were locked onto Will’s and the spark of life was dancing within them. The flow of blood from the wound did not stop. Soon it reached Will’s ankles, his calves, then his knees. Hannibal’s figure disappeared beneath the inky liquid yet the blood still kept coming. Will’s mind screamed at him to run but his legs would not move. The sickly warmth reached his hips, his chest, his neck - the pressure was suffocating. He strained to keep his face above the surface but soon the viscous liquid entered his nose and mouth, covered his eyes in a shroud of red.

Will gasped awake in the sweat-soaked bed. His eyes were wide and panicked as he stumbled out into the corridor; the door to Hannibal’s room was open just a sliver. Will’s blood was liquid nitrogen in his bones freezing him in place as his head pounded with adrenaline His limbs were lead as he moved towards the room. He pushed the door open slowly and almost collapsed from relief. Hannibal was tucked safely under the blankets where Will had left him the previous night. Will, his back pressed to the wall, slid down into a fetal position never looking away from Hannibal’s sleeping form. He saw two glimmers of light, deep red and surreal follow him- a trick of the reflected moonlight surely, in the dark. Before Will could understand what he was seeing Hannibal shifted, blinked, “Will.”

Will struggled to his feet, and rattled out his hasty apology “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you- ” Hannibal’s eyes followed his movements “- I'll leave now, don’t worry. Good night”. As Will was about to make his escape out of the room, and away from Hannibal’s piercing gaze the man stopped him. “A nightmare?” he guessed, a statement more than a question. Will nodded, swallowed. Hannibal didn’t say anything and Will gave in, lowered his gaze to the floor. “I woke up and you weren’t in your room. And there was blood everywhere and… and it led me to the forest and I called for you but you didn’t answer” Will swallowed the tremble in his voice and continued “And then there was the stag and I followed it and then I– I– was in your old house, in the kitchen and I somehow had a knife and– oh god– I didn’t want to. I didn’t mean to! There was so much blood” Will’s breaths came in choked short gasps, his body shaking like a leaf in the wind “It was everywhere, it filled the room and I was drowning in it”

“I will always come when you call, Will” Hannibal’s voice pulled Will out of the memories of his fear, it came calm and reassuring, a steadying presence, “I will not leave you”.

Will still stood uneasily in the doorway, breathing laboured but steadier and Hannibal decided to push his luck further “Come here” he offered as he pulled the covers aside. He almost thought Will was going to leave but after a few moments Will took a few cautious steps forward and clambered into the bed facing Hannibal. Will’s hand moved instinctively towards the other man but he stopped himself at the last moment, his fingers a few inches from Hannibal's chest. “I’m here” Hannibal’s voice filled his ears. Hannibal carefully reached out to Will’s unsure hand and pressed it to his chest. “I’m here” he repeated.

Will’s world condensed down to only Hannibal, as the man filled all of his senses. He felt the fine chest hair under his fingers, the steady heartbeat echoing through his body, the maroon eyes deep and dark in the night burrowing into his, holding him grounded, the elegant musk Will could only describe as Hannibal’s own unique mix of pomegranate and wine and roses and something deep and metallic invading his nose. Will’s own breathing slowed to match the calm rise and fall of Hannibal’s chest. He let himself close his eyes. The place where his hand pressed against the other man felt scalding but he welcomed the heat, let it spread and envelop him entirely. Hannibal’s hand trailed up Will’s forearm, careful to not disturb the fresh bruises, up to Will's shoulder and finally came to a stop as it cupped the side of Will’s face. He leaned into the burning touch. Hannibal shifted and pulled Will closer to himself and Will wanted to protest but could not find any reasons in his mind or strength in his bones to do so. Hannibal’s warmth enveloped him entirely as they closed the space between their bodies. As soon as his cheek pressed up to Hannibal’s chest Will could feel himself slipping back into sleep. Will didn’t know how or when but somehow, sometime, along the way Hannibal had become safety to Will, had become comfort.

Will woke up still wrapped in Hannibal’s arms. He let himself enjoy the comfort of the moment but the other man stirred and the maroon eyes opened to meet Will’s own blue. Hannibal nearly purred his morning greeting, his accent heavy from sleep “Good morning, Will”.

“Morning” Will mumbled, embarrassment from both the compromising position and his antics the night before catching up to him. He untangled himself from Hannibal's arms, the coolness of the morning air sharp against the places their bodies had been connected. He didn’t know if he had imagined the fleck of disappointment flickering through Hannibal's eyes at his hasty departure. He went to the kitchen to make breakfast for the both of them. When he brought the food up to Hannibal they ate in silence, Will avoiding eye contact with the other man as best he could. “I’ll go unpack our stuff” He excused himself from the room before Hannibal could say anything; he could feel the man’s gaze on his back.

Chapter Text

As Will properly explored the house for the first time, after sorting through the heap of clothes he had snatched up before their hasty departure from the cliffside house. It was small by Hannibal’s standards but he could see Hannibal everywhere. In the plush carpet covering the floors and muting his footsteps. The extensive kitchen, though admittedly smaller than the one in Baltimore. The simple yet elegant armchair and sofa in front of the rustic fireplace. Dark mahogany bookshelves lined with tomes on psychology and art and history and philosophy and theology and science in English, French, Italian, Spanish and a few more languages Will struggled to even identify. He trudged back upstairs carefully attempting to avoid looking in the direction of Hannibal’s room, failing to do so and ducked into his own.

There, where he had dropped it the first night was the small black bag housing their passports. After a deep exhale he slowly came closer and opened it to finish his examination of the contents that had been cut short back in the car. He dragged the three passports not daring a single glance at them for fear that one might open on accident. The wad of cash - slightly depleted by their gas station stop was also tossed aside. The cards in the cardholder were mostly under Hannibal’s new name - Corvin Cervone, but there were two under his name as well and one under the name - Will swallowed hard - Inés Cervone. There were three plane tickets - long expired, Will didn’t dare glance at the names. Drivers licenses for Hannibal and Will. Three US visas under their fake names. The final four documents caught Will’s attention - they were all in Spanish. He could not understand anything except the names. Abigail's new name on two. His and Hannibal’s new names on another. And all three names on the fourth. This was the first time he regretted his phone had drowned in the ocean at Chesapeake Bay - he would’ve killed for a translator app right about then.

Hannibal could translate it for him.
He could ask Hannibal.
He should ask Hannibal.

He wouldn’t ask Hannibal.

With a heavy sigh he scooped everything off the bed and into his bedside cabinet. Out of sight and out of mind - this would just have to be one more thing he was going to actively ignore for the time being. Exhausted all of a sudden he dragged himself back downstairs and settled into the armchair with one of Hannibal’s awfully boring and pompous books on renaissance art in 16th century Italy. He realized he had dozed off when he heard Hannibal’s voice calling him from upstairs “Will, it is time to change our bandages and take our medicine”. Will was about to head upstairs when he hesitated and turned back to the bookshelves. He picked up a few books at random and with them in his arms made his way to Hannibal’s room.

“I brought you some books” he shrugged as he deposited them on the bedside table.
Hannibal acknowledged him with a nod “Thank you”

The processed motion of rebandaging Hannibal came easily - it was almost muscle memory by now. The open wounds were healing surprisingly well though the bones would need longer to heal. Hannibal cared for Will’s wounds. The long precise fingers brushed over Will’s skin, leaving invisible burning paths in their wake. When Hannibal moved his head closer to Will’s to check the cheek wound, Will couldn’t help but look down at the man’s lips. The hand cupping his face, keeping him steady burned against his skin and the closeness made him dizzy. His lips parted, he swallowed hard. Hannibal’s eyes traced Will’s adam's apple bobbing up and down. Will could see the concealed desire in the dark corners of Hannibal’s dilated pupils. He knew it mirrored his own. He pulled back sharply out of the man’s grasp. A slippery slithering something in Will’s chest purred in dark enjoyment at the sight of Hannibal momentarily disoriented and left wanting. Hannibal composed himself quickly as Will slipped out of the room “I’ll go cook dinner.”
He revelled in the momentary power he felt, the control over the other man.

A rational part of him knew that he ought to know it was wrong, that he shouldn’t have enjoyed it. It was more of a numb understanding of social expectation his past self followed blindly rather than regret. He was more confident when he walked into Hannibal's room with two steaming plates. Neither of them mentioned what they knew they both felt.

That night Will’s nightmare repeated. It was natural when he sought solace in Hannibal’s presence; instinct after the years during which Hannibal had conditioned Will to see him as his only paddle, his only support. Will felt a small and bitter pang of resentment at the thought as he lay there encased in Hannibal's arms.

The days slowly melted into one. Will would escape Hannibal's bed in the mornings without so much as a glance at the other man but let his fingers wander as he cared for Hannibal’s wounds. He got drunk off the desire and disappointment he could see so clearly in those maroon eyes now that he knew where to look. He lavished in the curl of Hannibal's lips as the man snarled silently when he thought Will couldn’t see as Will turned his back on him. He knew Hannibal’s frustration was a dangerous thing, he had experienced it first hand but he just couldn’t deny himself the rush he felt every time he could force the man’s facade to crack. Every time he saw Hannibal’s near infinite self-control snap just for him. Will could feel the tension within the house. The air was heavy with the promise of a storm. Electricity prickled on his skin. The storm was approaching quickly, Will knew, but he wouldn’t run from it. He wanted to see it. To witness it.

His hands were absently tracing Hannibal’s abdominals as Will was inspecting Hannibal’s almost entirely healed gunshot wound. He could feel how stiff the man was beneath his fingers, feel crimson eyes boring into his head of dark curls. With a far-too-long-to-be-appropriate sigh he slowly started getting up.

“Will” Hannibal’s voice was rough and harsh.
Will maneuvered his face into a passive almost bored expression and regarded Hannibal with eyebrows raised in silent question.

“Enough, Will”
There it was. Will feigned ignorance as he had done often before, his expression open and innocent, shrugged “No idea what you are talking about”. He moved to leave the room. Hannibal’s grasp on his wrist was harsh as the man yanked him back to the bed. Will stumbled but caught himself before he could land on Hannibal's damaged leg with his entire body weight. He raised his eyes, looking up at Hannibal from his position; his head lingering just above Hannibal’s thighs.

“I am tired of this game, Will.”

Will's eyes gleamed with excitement. He wanted to hear the man say exactly what he thought for once. With no more riddles or allegories or metaphors. He wanted to hear the rawness. He wanted to see the monster under the person suit.

Hannibal’s lip curled up in a snarl “You are toying with me.”

“Don’t know what you mean, Doctor Lecter” Will shifted his head closer to Hannibal's, his lips spreading in a cheshire grin.

Hannibal yanked him back by his shirt collar and in an instant Will was half-laying on his back, his elbows supporting him. Hannibal was looming over him.

“I do not like to be mocked” he hissed “Accept me, or do not. Make your choice, but do not mock me”

Behind the anger emanating off Hannibal in waves he could see it. The worry, the fear.

“And which choice would you let me make? What answer would you accept from me? ” There was an edge to Will’s voice, a challenge.

“I am finding myself willing to accept any answer you give” Hannibal's face contorted into a joyless smile. He moved back and sat on the edge of the bed. Will propped himself up into an upright position to level with Hannibal’s gaze. The man was regaining control over himself. Tugging on the person suit he had temporarily thrown to the side. Building up barricades. Well that just wouldn’t do. And so Will pushed. He got up from the bed and moved in front of the man, standing between his knees, close, too close.

“Even if I said I wanted us to stay friends?”
“Yes” Hannibal’s voice tightened, almost, almost imperceptibly.
“And what of all your efforts? All those years of work you put into me? Wouldn’t it be such a shame if they all went to waste?”

Hannibal did not answer. He looked up at Will.
“And you would be happy with that? Satisfied? Satiated?”

Hannibal’s lips tightened. “I would have to be. I do not want your acquiescence if you do not wish to give it. I do not want to see you repressed and chained by some obligation when you have just freed yourself” something in Hannibal’s expression softened and hardened at the same time. Will could see the beast speaking the words that left Hannibal’s mouth. Will could hear the rawness he craved. The words were dark and dangerous and so very wanting “I want your surrender, Will, given freely and willingly, or I do not want it at all”.

Will’s gaze fell to the floor as he let out a breath. All the fight, the excitement of the chase left him. He got what he wanted.

“I wouldn’t be” his eyes trailed up to meet Hannibal’s narrowed ones, the man wary and confused at the admission.
“Satisfied I mean” Will clarified and let the mask of amused indifference he was wearing fall from his features at last.

And then... then he slowly kneeled between Hannibal's legs.
“I surrender”

Hannibal searched his eyes - for what, he did not know. Will did not dare break eye contact. He wanted Hannibal to see. He forced the rawness out of Hannibal and now the least he could do was show his own rawness freely in return.

“My beautiful, clever boy” Hannibal’s voice was so so soft, so uncharacteristically gentle.

And then warm hands were on Will’s face as the man pulled him up from his knees. Will’s arms were braced on either side of Hannibal’s hips all too aware of how fragile they both were at the moment. Hannibal pulled his face closer and Will’s eyes fell shut as he felt Hannibal's breath on his face. When their lips touched it felt like that first breath of air after the fall, the relief, the joy the adrenaline coursed through Will. The kiss started slow and tender and chaste. Hannibal pulled away, to look Will in the eye, to see his reaction.

Will tangled a hand in Hannibal’s soft straight hair and closed the distance again. This time the passion built. Teeth clanked against teeth. Will was a man drowning and Hannibal was his only source of oxygen. He didn’t know how he was alive before. Everything before felt like a dream and this was him finally waking up. Teeth grazed his lower lip, then bit down. He instinctively opened his mouth with a gasp. Hannibal slipped his tongue in and explored every part of Will’s mouth, tasting him, claiming him. Will felt a pulling ache in his cheek, the sutures straining to hold up from the pressure from within, blood from the wound leaked into his mouth. He savored Hannibal’s particular taste mixing with his own metallic blood. Will let out a stifled moan and bit down on Hannibal’s lip.

An animalistic guttural rumble of satisfaction escaped the older man as they tasted each other on their tongues, tasted them both combined. When they finally parted for air they were gasping and panting. Hannibal’s lips were swollen and red and slick with their saliva and blood. Will rested his head against Hannibal's shoulder as he had done back on the cliff and the man nosed at his curls, inhaled his scent. They remained entangled so as they waited for their hearts to slow down, for their lungs to fill up with oxygen once again. Their monsters, settling, intertwining, seeping into each other.

They fell back lying on the bed in each other’s arms and drifted off to sleep.