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Will occasionally liked his recreational things. Although Hannibal had witnessed and assisted Will in his occasional recreational activities, it always amazed him the way Will drowned in them. One edible, and suddenly Will turned into this pliant, peaceful, smiling angel. One edible, and suddenly Will was able to breathe easy without the pressures and terrors of his time with the FBI haunting his shadow. One edible, and Will could express things he was too shy to when sober. One edible, and Hannibal was graced with the honor of seeing Will Graham transform into something untainted by the world around him and completely new.
There was routine of course, because even with some level of recklessness, Will was always one for routine. Will would cook beforehand, always insisting that Hannibal’s food was too rich before his adventures. A PB&J usually sufficed, and when Will started to feel a bit fuzzy, he would retire to their room. Hannibal would follow him out of concern for his safety. The first time they did this, Will's legs went numb and Hannibal had to carry him to the living room which wasn't the best thing for Hannibal's still healing back. Eventually they would both change into pajamas; Hannibal would usually take care in picking up their clothes while Will put on the soft sounds of jazz music. Will would then sprawl out across their bed, sighing contently as he finally stopped running from everything chasing him.
Hannibal would rest in the armchair beside the bed, his sketchbook in hand. He could still remember how Will blushed the first time he asked to draw him. Eventually, it became a part of the routine as well. When the drug really kicked in, Hannibal always could tell. Will never smiled that wide without aid. He never loosened up to the extent that he was now. His movements were never so slow and carefree. Will laid on his back, his hands slowly twisting and turning in the air. “So heavy.” He muttered while his smile faded into curiosity.
At this point Hannibal would start sketching, trying to replicate on his paper the loose-limbed and content lines of his lover’s face. Eventually, typically right in the middle of Hannibal’s drawing, Will would roll over onto his stomach and give Hannibal the happiest smile he’d ever received. Will’s eyes would be full of joy, and he would make grabby hands towards Hannibal who, as always, would go to his side.
Will liked to cuddle when he was like this. He said the warmth of Hannibal’s body encased him, created a place where he felt they would melt together in one gooey puddle. This time was no different. Will sighed as Hannibal wrapped him in his arms, pulling him into the curves of his body-carved out specifically by this man before him. Will’s head would lean back a bit until Hannibal nuzzled his face into his neck.
“Is she here?” Hannibal would eventually ask in a voice barely above a whisper. Will, no matter how heavy the high, always knew exactly who Hannibal was talking about. Sometimes the effects would be too tame for dreams like this. However, Will nodded with his eyes still closed and his smile growing. “Where is she? Tell me.” Hannibal would whisper, typically before placing soft kisses on Will’s neck.
“Smaller this time.” Will muttered as he held a pillow in his arms. “She wants to know how we met.” His eyes are closed as he loses himself in the image. Will starts speaking, the words turning into a series of incomprehensible sounds in the middle. Hannibal would sometimes close his eyes and try to imagine what scene played out behind Will’s eyes. “Hanni.” Will muttered softly.
“Yes mylimasis?” He would whisper softly so as to not ruin Will’s vision.
“Abby asked you a question.” Will replied.
“Oh? And what does our darling daughter want to know?”
“When are we going to Venice?”
Hannibal tightened his arms around his lover slightly; he nuzzled closer to Will whose skin was beginning to sweat. “We can leave the minute I feel like getting out of bed.”
“No move’n.” Will muttered his hand moving to rest on top of Hannibal’s.
Hannibal felt Will’s hand tremble slightly. It was Will’s usual sign of slight distress, nothing to the point that Hannibal couldn’t pull him out of, but time to change at least. Hannibal nibbled softly as Will’s ear. “Does my mylimasis want to get closer? You keep squirming against me. Do you need me to prove I’m here?” Hannibal asked between placing kisses down Will’s throat. Will whined softly, and Hannibal turned Will onto his back.
Will’s eyes were halfway open, dazed and slightly red. Hannibal presses their bodies against each other, and smirks at the slight hardness he finds rubbing against him. His lover smiles at the feeling, unconsciously chasing it. His cheeks redden slightly, and Hannibal drinks in the sight, memorizing it and storing it in the room of his mind totally dedicated to Will’s stoned expressions. Will whined again, and Hannibal leaned up to remove Will’s clothes.
“I wanna feel you.” Will whined breathily, his hands hesitant to let go of Hannibal while his lover removes his clothing as well. Hannibal shushes him slightly. He knows that Will likes contact when he’s like this. “It’s like if you’re not there, then I’ll float away.” He had once said when describing it to Hannibal after a semi-bad trip. Hannibal was quick in situating Will against the pillows and headboard.
Will twined his arms around Hannibal’s neck, and kissed him slowly. Hannibal could taste the bitter residue of Will’s treat on his tongue. While it was not his favorite flavor, anything mixed with Will had him craving more. Will laid his head back after a moment, his eyes closing as he felt the warped sensations of Hannibal against him. “Wanna feel you.” He whispered as his hips rocked against Hannibal’s.
Hannibal slid his hand over the scar on Will's side before moving his lips over to Will’s ear. “How?” He asked softly just to hear Will whimper for him. He was always so much more sensitive like this, so much more pliant and needy. Will hooked his leg around Hannibal’s hip, and pulled him closer.
“Just against me. Just like-yes-yeah-Hanni.” Will moaned as Hannibal slid his thick thigh between Will’s legs, letting his own movements rock Will to a slow and steady need. Will would whine and whimper, releasing noises that he normally silenced into pillows when they usually had sex. “Hanni, don’t stop. More please-please-“ Hannibal would always shush him before he could get too overwhelmed, and increase his pace.
Will would arch and grab at him desperately, he would moan and whine for Hannibal, giving the man direction as needed. Hannibal would watch as his lover’s face morphed from pleasure to ecstasy. Tears would sometimes form in the corners of Will’s eyes as the pleasure built and built. When it finally crashed over Will, it was like an ocean wave. It would slowly crawl up every muscle and saturate him, leaving him overwhelmed and tensed in pleasure. When he finished, his body would tremor once-maybe twice before going boneless and content. Hannibal would be clear to clean him up, adjust him into a place under the covers, and situate himself against his lover before Will slipped off into sleep.
In the morning, Hannibal would cook breakfast and bring it to Will in bed. Will would groggily wake up and eat. He would complain first about how his skin felt sticky and gross even though Hannibal cleaned him up the night before. Breakfast was followed by a shower, sometimes with Hannibal but most times without. Hannibal would usually take this time to get back to work. Not in the office of course because Will only did this on weekends, but he would sit at his desk and fill out forms and schedules.
Sometimes Will would wander in, his footsteps nearly silent. He would take a seat, wait patiently for his lover to finish what he was doing, and then wait for the signal. Hannibal would put the papers aside, look at Will, and nod once.
Sometimes the words came pouring out. “I saw us at a beach having a picnic. Abigail was playing in the waves while we cuddled on the blanket. She was so happy Hannibal, and we were too.” Another time they had been fishing together when Hannibal called them into the Wolf Trap house for dinner. The first time, Will was slow dancing with Hannibal in an empty ballroom to the sweet voice of Frank Sinatra.
There were bad trips of course, where Will would describe hearing the voices of Tobias, Matthew, sometimes-even Freddy. Sometimes he was stuck in the mental asylum again, unable to move while the sound of dripping water filled his ears. Sometimes the effect wasn’t quite enough and he just laid in a numb stupor.
Hannibal listened each time, sometimes trying to analyze what they all meant. Other times he asked questions so he could create his own image of Will’s dreams. Sometimes Hannibal would pull Will into his arms and apologize into his skin, regretting every piece of his plan that ruined their child’s future. Most of the time, like this one, Hannibal would take mental notes of specific details so that he could draw them later. The pieces would go into a book that he kept hidden in his bottom desk drawer. It was full of pictures, both drawn and taken, that detailed their lives in fantasy and reality. Occasionally Hannibal would pull it out when Will slept to make sure everything fit, and would sometimes adjust the note on the front.
We’ve Run Without Fears For Two Years. Happy Anniversary
-Hannibal