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Hannibal never thought he would find himself in a situation one could ever call 'peaceful'. Perhaps to an outside observer, but even then he lived too lavishly to avoid public excitements. And yet, here in their own sunny corner of Cienfuegos, Hannibal and Will had found just that.
It had been nearly a year since the fated night that they plunged into the Atlantic, clinging to one another with little to no chance of survival. Many would have called it a miracle that they made it to the shore at all, but Hannibal thought of it as destiny. It took many years of lying and betrayal and isolation, followed by months of resting and healing and patience, but they'd made it here. He and Will were together. Wedded in every way that mattered.
And Will made every day feel wonderful. Hannibal had never loved a person like this, never felt completed by someone else's presence. Hannibal didn't believe in soul mates, but what they shared felt too grand to be anything other than written in the stars.
Will and Hannibal were happy. Almost overwhelmingly so. They dined together, Will helping Hannibal in the kitchen with lazy smiles and warm glances, and his cooking had never tasted better. They slept together, Hannibal's arms wrapped tightly around his lover, and Will had nightmares much more rarely than before.
Will spoke and Hannibal listened with bated breath. Will asked and Hannibal provided, invariably. Will leaned close and Hannibal always met him with his lips.
It was more than Hannibal had ever thought to wish for- to be so loved, so cherished, so known.
And yet.
It chafed at him, more and more as the days and weeks passed. It was as if his life was too peaceful, too comfortable, too lovely. It was counter-intuitive, nonsensical even. It wasn't as if Hannibal was bored, their new life was beautiful in its own way.
But something about the way Will looked at him... Something about the fondness in his smile and the confidence in his touches and the curl of Hannibal's first name- always his first name in his mouth.
Hannibal felt collared. Every day, he felt the pull of his leash as Will held him closer, closer, closer.
It was all in his head, of course. Will was holding him no closer than Hannibal desired. But he felt the leather on his neck all the same. He felt like a captive animal, more so than he ever did while actually in captivity. In prison he was mocked by Alana and Frederick, but the fear still shone fever bright in their eyes when he wanted it to. They still recognized his danger, still feared him. Will didn't fear Hannibal, even when he'd been shown time and time again that he should.
The knowledge should make Hannibal happy. He should be pleased to see the love of his life treat him so casually, as a harmless feature in their picture of domestic bliss.
Of course, he wasn't universally feared in his old life, either. But those who didn't know his true darkness still saw a man of dignity and status, one that deserved the highest respect. And what was respect, really, but a small display of fear?
They're lying lower, this time. Much lower than Hannibal ordinarily would. It was a choice he was happy to make, back then. An extra measure to ensure not just his own safety, but Will's. It didn't matter much to Hannibal that he no longer maintained a high societal status, until one day it very much did.
He hated feeling like this, like a fierce beast who's been muzzled. He wanted to relax, to enjoy this perfect dream that Will had pulled them into, he truly did. But it felt so wrong having another person roaming through his house, putting his clothes next to Hannibal's in the closet and insisting that Hannibal not put cilantro in his dishes because he 'doesn't like it' and leaving half-empty coffee cups everywhere because he forgets about them and lets them go cold.
He loved Will. Dearly. And Will was happy. That should be enough.
It chafed at him all the same.
He was making breakfast, the sun filtering in through the kitchen window and bathing their home in a midmorning glow. He was chopping vegetables, mushrooms and onions for his and Will's omelets. It was pleasant, like most mornings were for them.
He heard the creak of floorboards in the hall. In any other life, that sound would've sent Hannibal on the offensive. But he knew it was just Will, coming to retrieve a cup of coffee and settle at their kitchen table for breakfast.
"What's cooking, good looking?" He asked, voice still deep from waking.
Hannibal smiled to himself. It was easier to ignore the feeling of containment when his keeper was actually near, radiating calm and contentment in every breath. "Omelets."
Will hummed his approval, busying himself at their coffee maker. Hannibal tried not to bristle at how Will put powdered creamer in, knew that any attempt to suggest something higher quality would be met with a simple 'I like it this way, it's how I've always drank it'. It didn't matter, really. It was Will's coffee, not Hannibal's. It shouldn't matter. He cast a glance to the cutting board. "Mushrooms?"
Hannibal nodded.
"Cheese?"
"White cheddar," Hannibal answered. "And steak."
Will smiled, it was one of his favorite combinations and Hannibal knew it. He felt the leather dig into his skin despite his own desire to enjoy the morning.
Will left his mug on the counter, moving closer. He wrapped his arms around Hannibal's waist from behind, standing on his toes to rest his chin on Hannibal's shoulder. Will grinned, pressing a kiss to Hannibal's neck.
"You spoil me, baby."
And there's something about it. Something about how Will had Hannibal wrapped around his finger, something about the possessiveness of Will's hands and the condescending fondness in his voice and the way he called Hannibal Lecter, the Chesapeake Ripper, Baby.
It made Hannibal want to bite the hand that fed him.
The thought had scarcely entered his head before Hannibal was turning, tearing himself from Will's embrace. He still hadn't really thought about it when he raised his knife.
Will laughed. How dare he. "What's up, babe?"
Will seemed to recognize something in Hannibal's eyes, the smile on his face fell in an instant. He took a step back, then another, before hitting their fridge.
"Baby? Everything okay?"
Hannibal had followed him to the fridge. Will was pinned, nowhere to go. Hannibal brought the blade to his neck. Pressed, pressed.
"Hannibal?"
Hannibal saw the fear now. It came off of Will in waves, Hannibal could smell it. His voice had come out small and shaking, purely terrified. His pretty blue eyes looked into Hannibal's, round and afraid and quickly welling with tears. Hannibal was reminded of a similar night in another kitchen, where Will had looked very much the same.
A tear fell from Will's eyes. He was trembling.
Exactly the same.
Because Will had been betrayed that night, too.
No. No, no. How did this happen?
Hannibal dropped the knife, the sound of it hitting the floor seemed miles away.
Will ducked to the side, pushing Hannibal away as he made for the front door. Hannibal didn't move to stop him, too stunned by what had just transpired.
The whole affair had taken a matter of seconds. Less than a minute prior, they'd been having a lovely morning. How had it gone this wrong, so quickly?
Hannibal regarded the floor. There was a note lying on the ground, Will must have disturbed it from its place on the fridge when he pressed his back to the door.
'Shampoo. Feta. Tea Leaves. Chorizo.'
Hannibal sighed, fixing it back in place with a small magnet. He noticed another note on the freezer, one that had been placed weeks ago but never taken down.
'Gone Fishing! Back soon. Love you!' Paired with a drawing of a heart.
What has he done. God, no, what on Earth has he done.
Hannibal exited the house, fearing he'd find Will already long gone. Instead he was sitting on their front porch, shaking with his head held low. His hands were clasped tightly against either side of his neck. He was gasping for air, trying to take in shuddering breaths between wrecked sobs.
"Will, darling, I am so-"
"Shut up," Will said through gritted teeth.
He was on the verge of a panic attack, Hannibal knew the signs well. He felt the urge to soothe him, to try and clean the mess he'd made. He placed a hand on Will's back. "Breathe, Dearest."
"Don't fucking touch me."
Hannibal pulled away, not wanting to fan the flames.
"I'm sorry, Will, truly. I don't know what came over me-"
"Shut up, shut up, shut up."
Hannibal sat beside him on the steps, heart ripping itself apart at the sight of what he's done.
They were quiet for a long moment as Will tried to even out his breaths, keep himself from completely unraveling. Hannibal regarded the view from their home. The sun was beaming down on their yard, creating dappled patterns where it hit the trees. It was a beautiful day. Could've been a beautiful day.
"What's wrong with you?" Will said eventually, voice tinged with venom.
"I...I don't know."
"I can't believe how stupid I am." Will shook his head miserably. "Can't believe I let myself think you could ever be kind to someone. That you could ever be anything but a monster."
Hannibal tried to ignore how the words wounded him. "I want to be kind to you. I love you."
Will laughed bitterly. "Yeah. You do. But you're one of those people who sees something they love and feels the urge to crush it, aren't you?"
Hannibal didn't know how to respond. He felt so lost, saddened and confused by his own behavior.
"I'm leaving."
Hannibal looked at him. Will sounded resolved but he was still shaking, tears streaming down his face.
"Will, darling, please be reasonable-"
Will snorted. "Reasonable? You were going to kill me, Hannibal. The reasonable thing to do would be to get as far away as I fucking can and then call Jack Crawford. So tell me again that you want me to be reasonable."
"You're in no state to be driving right now, love, I'm worried you'd get hurt." Will opened his mouth at that, surely to deliver another scathing blow, but Hannibal kept talking. "Stay here. I'll go."
"For how long?"
Hannibal sighed. "As long as you'd like me to."
"Forever?"
And Hannibal felt his heart rip itself in two. He was forced to face it- the difference between Will wanting to leave and Will wanting to leave. Between needing some space to clear his head and just being gone.
"If that's what you want."
Will let out another humorless laugh. It froze Hannibal's blood. "Liar."
He couldn't argue. He didn't know if he could keep himself from coming back here, if Will sent him away. He didn't think he'd be able to keep himself from searching if Will wanted to leave forever, either.
Will stood, ducking inside for just long enough to grab his getaway bag. They'd packed those together, Hannibal had one too. In case the FBI ever got close and they needed to make a swift escape. There were enough essentials and cash in that bag for Will to try and start over, if he wanted to. Alone.
Hannibal wanted to stop him. He wanted to grab Will by the arm, pull him to bed and hold him close. He wanted to start today over, to erase this version of the morning and make Will's favorite omelets and have Will read to him while Hannibal worked on a drawing and spend the afternoon at the nearby dog park and treat him better, for once. He wanted to try, so badly, to be kind.
But he didn't stop Will. Hannibal didn't want to hurt Will anymore, he couldn't live with himself if anything happened to Will. And yet he'd taken a blade to his throat and brought him back to a traumatic memory that Will had tried so hard to move past. Will wasn't safe here. Hannibal wanted him to be, but he wasn't.
Will tossed the bag into his truck. "If you ever loved me, you won't come looking for me."
Hannibal felt tears rising to his eyes. This felt final. Like a goodbye. Like that night in Wolf Trap when Will told Hannibal to disappear. It felt so similar to that night, even though the roles had been reversed. Now it was Will not wanting Hannibal to know where he was, what he was doing.
Hannibal hadn't listened, then. He wondered if he'd listen now.
"I do love you. I'll always love you."
Will didn't look at him, the only answer was the closing of the truck's door, the start of its engine.
Hannibal went back into his home. Their home. Their home with their closet and their kitchen and their coffee cups. He sat on the kitchen floor, replayed the events of this morning in his mind. The knife was still sitting abandoned near the fridge, neutral. He wanted to throw it out the window, to make it stop mocking him. The knife hadn't done anything wrong.
'Hannibal?'
He closed his eyes tightly, ignoring the tears that spilled down his cheeks. He could feel the sound descending the stairs of his memory palace, walking through every once lovely room on its leisurely way to the basement. Once it painted over every sun-kissed place, once it clouded the memories Hannibal cherished most, it joined its brethren there, in the depths of his mind.
'Please don't lie to me.' 'I trusted you.' 'No. Not your life.' 'Didn't I?' 'I don't want to think about you anymore.' 'I'm not going to miss you.' 'Hannibal?'
Hannibal stood. He scrapped the mushrooms into the garbage, quickly washed the cutting board. He picked up the knife from where it lay, cleaned it thoroughly as if he could scrub his sins from its blade.
He paused when he saw the coffee cup on the counter. Hannibal hated this mug. Will had found it at a thrift store and Hannibal practically begged him not to buy it. It'd been no use. It featured a cartoonish drawing of a fish on a hook, with the words 'KEEPIN IT REEL' written across it in large text. Dreadful. Will had a lot of novelty mugs, each of them purchased despite Hannibal's disapproval. Tacky ceramic monstrosities with slogans like '#1 GRANDPA' and 'I LIKE BIG MUTTS AND I CANNOT LIE' and 'EVIL GENUIS'. Hannibal often fantasized about smashing each one against the hardwood.
He poured the cooling coffee into the sink and washed the mug carefully, placing it in the cabinet with Will's other mugs. He really didn't have that many, and no one ever saw them but Will and Hannibal. They contrasted garishly with Hannibal's simple cups, mismatched and obnoxious.
Not all mismatched. Two of them were the same. Two red mugs with the words 'Partners in Crime' printed in white cursive. Hannibal never used his. It wasn't as if it was a gift, Will just saw them in a home goods store and insisted on purchasing two.
Hannibal took one of them out of the cabinet, poured himself a cup of coffee, and sat on their sofa.
Hannibal remembered how it felt to be without Will, for the three years of his incarceration. How every part of him ached and it never truly went away, he just became accustomed to it over time. How Will always occupied his thoughts in some capacity, even if he was sequestered to the back of Hannibal's mind. He remembered it like a horrible dream, the days and weeks of nothing worth noting just blurring together into an unpleasant haze in his mind. He decided that this was worse.
Worse if only because in prison there was little to actively remind him of Will. Will lived in his mind, surely, and the very sight of Alana Bloom often made him recall their past friendship. But the ache could be contained, if Hannibal tried, and then the cell was just a cell.
Will bought Hannibal this coffee cup. Will built this end table, his first proper project after healing from his wounds. Will helped Hannibal rearrange all the furniture in their living room last winter to make space for a large Christmas tree, and Will had piled boxes at its base, and Will had wrapped them so poorly but wouldn't let Hannibal fix them because that might spoil the surprise and Will had mentioned wanting to open them early at least a hundred times but always refused when Hannibal told him that they really could open them any time if he wanted and Will.
Will shared every part of his life with Hannibal, even the parts Hannibal hadn't wanted. He'd been so ready for this life, so ready to forgive and forget and just start over. He'd wanted them to treat each other better this time around, to make every scar and lie just fall away, like they'd been passed down by two different men who also loved each other but hadn't done it right. Will wanted to do it right. But Hannibal didn't know how. He barely knew how to do it wrong.
A part of him hoped that it ached the same for Will, that right now he was thinking about turning his truck around and driving back home. At any moment, Will could find his way back, standing in the doorway with his bag still in his hands. He'd forgiven Hannibal before, and even though Hannibal knew he didn't deserve it, he hoped Will might forgive him again. That maybe he could learn to do it right. He wanted to learn, for Will and Will alone, to love in a way that wouldn't leave a scar.
A day passed. Two. Hannibal slept in a bed that smelled like Will and felt too large without another body to fill it.
Will had been right. Hannibal felt the need to crush the things he loved. It was an impulse, one that he never minded much before Will. It isn't that uncommon, to see a loved one or a cute animal, and have the passing urge to squeeze the life from it. Most people would never act on it. But Will made him feel weak, not physically but emotionally. He didn't like giving Will so much control over his feelings. Hannibal had always maintained power over himself, for a time it was the only thing he had, and Will Graham took that from him with a smile. He didn't like that Will had changed him so much, didn't like that he wanted Will to change him.
Two days turned to four. Hannibal had to fight the need to start searching almost constantly. 'If you love me, you'll stay away'. Well, Hannibal did love Will. He didn't want to go against his wishes, he wanted to be kind. He would stay away. He wouldn't go after him. He wanted to. He wouldn't.
Hannibal thought about getting a dog.
He'd never been one for pets. Too messy and noisy and destructive, and they made it difficult to flee if an escape became necessary. He liked Will's dogs, though. Winston and Zoe and Juniper. He liked Buster the best, so small and calm due to his age. He could get an older dog from a shelter nearby. People usually adopted puppies anyway, it would be better to take in an adult dog. Kinder.
He pictured Will coming home to find a dog waiting for him. His face would just light up, Hannibal smiled at the very thought of it. He'd set down his bag and kneel to let the dog sniff him and the dog would probably recognize that the house smelled like Will already. Will would look at him with that happy, confused look he got sometimes and Hannibal would just shrug like it meant nothing.
Orpheus was a good dog name. Eurydice, if it's a girl. Will could shorten those to something more charming, too. Orph and Cece. Will would shorten them, and tease Hannibal for choosing such pretentious names, and smile like the sun.
Five days. Hannibal called Will. He wouldn't go looking, he promised himself that he wouldn't. But he couldn't fight the need to check in. To make sure Will was alright, wherever he was.
The call went directly to voice mail. Will's phone was either turned off or dead. Or Will had blocked Hannibal's number.
Probably just turned off. He never called anyone but Hannibal anyway.
On the sixth day, Hannibal broke down in their shower. It was quite unlike him, to behave that way, but it happened nonetheless. He wasn't sure what set him off. Perhaps he'd caught a whiff of Will's body wash. Perhaps the heat of the water reminded him of the heat of Will's arms wrapped around his waist, the sound of it hitting the shower floor creating a chorus of trembling 'Hannibal?'s in his ears. Or perhaps he just wanted to weep so badly, but hadn't felt vulnerable enough to do so.
He sat on the floor of their shower, feeling foolish but knowing no one would see him, and wept more freely than he had in ages. For Will, for himself, for both of them. He missed Will, dearly. Loved him. Hannibal knew that he'd ruined something beautiful, taken a perfect thing and crushed it for no real reason. As he often did. He never regretted it before, yet another way that Will had changed him. Another way that Hannibal was weaker now.
It was good, to cry. He felt better after.
It was past midnight, somewhere caught between days seven and eight. Technically eight, though Hannibal wanted to call it seven. He'd woken with a start, the sound of Will saying his name in a trembling question still clinging to his mind. He tried to shake it off, to go back to sleep. He couldn't seem to find rest.
He looked at the clock on their bedside. The sun would be rising soon. He may as well get an early start.
It took every ounce of strength he had to keep from falling to his knees in worship when he saw Will, asleep on their sofa.
He was curled up tightly, thin throw blanket surrounding his lower body but not quite long enough to cover him comfortably. His sleep didn't look very peaceful, it seemed fitful. He rolled in his sleep, turning away from where Hannibal was watching.
Hannibal's heart was caught in his throat. Will. Lovely, perfect, sweet Will Graham, was home. He must've come in while Hannibal was sleeping, decided not to wake him. His getaway bag was sitting near the front door, Hannibal wondered if Will had made a beeline for the sofa and passed out right away. He did look quite disheveled. What on Earth had he been up to, this past week?
Hannibal thought about waking him, trying to coax him back to their bed. He thought about kissing his curls, telling him how sorry he was for everything- not just that morning in the kitchen but every other time he resented Will for just being kind, just trying to love him.
Will shivered. Hannibal went back to the bedroom and grabbed their duvet- Will always called it a 'comforter' even though Hannibal had tried to explain that they were different things- and brought it back to the living room.
Will loved this duvet, he often talked about staying under it all day, staying in bed with Hannibal until the sun was high in the sky and they got too hungry to laze away together any more. Hannibal told him that he could, if he wanted, but Will never actually did. Hannibal wondered for a moment if Will had just wanted him to share the sentiment. That maybe he wanted Hannibal to lament rising from their mattress and laugh at stupid coffee cups and wish for Christmas to come sooner. Hannibal never did any of those things, had he been expected to? How many aspects of love was Hannibal doing improperly?
Hannibal spread the cover over Will's sleeping form. Will mumbled something in his sleep, but he seemed to relax into the sofa.
They could talk when Will woke. It would be easier to find kindness in the light of day.
Speaking of daylight, the sky was beginning to lighten just a fraction. The sun would rise soon. Hannibal cast one more loving glance toward Will, so relieved just to be seeing him, and went into the kitchen.
Hannibal made blueberry pancakes. He made them wide and thin, let the edges get slightly crispy, the way he knew Will liked them. He stacked them high, smiled at the knowledge that he was cooking for two again.
He made some more of Will's favorites, too. Smoked sausage and fried eggs. He got the feeling that Will would be hungry, but maybe Hannibal just wanted to feed him.
He put on a pot of coffee. With a soft smile, he set out two mugs. Partners in Crime.
He peeked his head into the living room. Will was still asleep, his head now turned so that his face was buried in the duvet. His heart felt tight. Hannibal ignored the chafing of his collar, tried to focus instead on the sheer joy of being wanted. Stray dogs don't have collars, after all. Unless they're lucky enough to meet Will Graham.
Hannibal made vanilla whipped cream for the pancakes. He'd started setting their table when he heard footsteps padding into the kitchen. He froze. it took him a few seconds to make himself turn back.
Will had the duvet wrapped protectively around himself, surveying the kitchen with narrowed eyes. He looked wary, suspicious. It hurt, but it was warranted. He took a step toward the spread of food, gave it an appraising look. He lowered a finger into the bowl of whipped cream, scooped some up and brought it to his lips. The silence threatened to eat Hannibal alive.
Will's eyes slipped closed as he tasted it and Hannibal felt like he was seeing something forbidden, rare and ethereal.
Without a word, Will approached Hannibal. Hannibal opened his mouth to finally speak, but Will silenced him. He extended the blanket, wrapping both the fabric and his arms around Hannibal and folding him into a tight embrace.
"We can talk about it later," Will said at last, and Hannibal almost shattered at hearing his voice again. "We're going to talk about it."
Hannibal just nodded, let his head fall to bury his nose in Will's curls.
"I missed you. I'm hungry. Let's just eat, okay?"
Hannibal wrapped his arms around Will's waist, held him tight for just another moment. "Okay."
Will settled at the table, shrugging the duvet off his shoulders so that it fell back over the chair, still warm and soft at his back. Will looked exhausted. Hannibal wondered if he looked the same.
Will hummed his approval when he tried the first bite of pancakes. Hannibal felt strangely soothed by the leather round his neck.
"So what is this, exactly?" Will asked, gesturing to the table. "A distraction, or a band-aid?"
"It's an apology. The start of an apology," He amends.
Will set his fork down for just a moment. "How about you start with an actual apology, then I'll take the other ones."
Hannibal looked him in the eyes, hoped that his face conveyed his sincerity. "I'm sorry, Will. Terribly, terribly sorry. I haven't been able to live with myself, my remorse is so great."
Will nodded, turning his attention to the sausage. He didn't forgive Hannibal. Hannibal didn't expect he would. "Is it going to happen again? Do I need to start bringing a knife with me when I take a bath, just in case?"
Hannibal wanted to soothe him, to make sure Will didn't leave. He wanted to say that Will never need worry about getting hurt again.
"I don't know. I don't want it to. I didn't want it to then, either."
Will grimaced when he swallowed. He was eating faster than usual.
"Where did you go?"
Will shrugged. "Just kind of drove until I get tired of driving. Stayed in motels, tried to figure out how I was feeling. Probably would've helped to talk with a therapist about it," He said, and a bitter smile spread on his lips. "How about you? You look like hell."
"As I said, I've been an absolute wreck in your absence. I wasn't sure you'd ever come back."
Will twitched a little, he chewed slowly, staring at the table. "I thought about it," he confessed after he swallowed. "Thought about just giving up on us altogether, putting as many miles between you and me as I could and starting over.
Hannibal felt a fresh pang of guilt at Will's expression. "You thought that I would come after you."
Will laughed. The sound surprised him. A welcome surprise, but still very surprising. "I know you'd come after me. Even if you made yourself give me a head start, you'd come looking eventually." He shrugged, smile still pulling at his lips. "It wouldn't have stopped me from trying, if I wanted to give up."
Hannibal's smile finally surfaced to join Will's. He tried to disguise it with a sip of coffee and Will laughed again.
"Is that part of the apology, too?" He asked, gesturing with his fork at Hannibal's mug.
"It's a separate apology, for a different misstep on my part."
Will focused on his breakfast for a while, soft smile fading more and more until it was replaced with a confused frown. He shook his head. "What happened?"
"I don't know. I truly don't."
"It wasn't premeditated," Will said matter-of-factly.
"Of course not. I hardly realized my actions as they were unfolding."
"Did you think I was going to attack you?"
"No. Will, no. You didn't do anything wrong."
Will's frown deepened. He took another long drink of his coffee. "Did something trigger your PTSD?"
Hannibal shook his head. They didn't bring up his past often, but he refused to shy away from the topic. "No. No triggers."
"Then I don't understand," Will said. He sounded exasperated. "It was a good morning, we were both doing good, everything was- oh."
The final syllable seemed to fall onto the table between them. Will pushed his plate away, dragged a hand along his face. The realization seemed to injure him.
"Too good, huh? Couldn't take it?" The words were equally painful to say as they were to hear, if Will's expression was anything to go by.
"I'm sorry." It was all he could think to say.
The silence that bloomed between them was miserable, the tension threatening to burst at any moment. Hannibal would prefer it bursting to living in this hellish suspense.
Eventually, Will let out a sharp sigh. "So what do we do? How can I help?" The words were kind, but his tone was resigned.
Hannibal was shocked, it took him a while to find his voice. "Will," he said. "This isn't your burden to bear, you shouldn't have to keep me from hurting you again."
Will let out another bitter laugh. "You know what's fucked up? I don't even care about that. You surprised me last time, but I'll know what to do if it happens again. I thought you were gonna stab me at any moment for the first six months we lived together, I don't give a shit about that. What I do care about is the fact that you're afraid of being happy."
"I wouldn't say I'm afraid," Hannibal objected weakly.
"You were acting out of fear, Hannibal. I know you were."
Hannibal sighed, observed the tacky lettering on his mug. "You slipped into a monster's mind and divined the motivation behind his actions."
"I looked into the eyes of the man I love and saw that he was afraid. I didn't need empathy to do it."
Hannibal nodded, feeling somewhat relieved by Will's wording. The man I love. Present tense. "It's a frightening thing, for a man like myself," He confessed after a moment. "Frightening to be known. To be...comfortable. I've never really been comfortable before."
Will was watching his face, listening carefully. The collar chafed but Hannibal ignored it. "There's a stubborn part of me that doesn't want to accept your kindness. It doesn't want to give you any, either. But I do. I want to be comfortable, happy, with you. I want to cherish you for the rest of my days." Hannibal shook his head. "I'm not sure how to appease the side of me that feels caged without releasing it."
"And releasing it means killing me?" Will asked. He looked so tired. So disappointed. Hannibal wanted to undo this conversation, to simply lie and say that it was a strange fluke that wouldn't happen again.
"As you said, I doubt I would be able to keep myself from you if I drove you away. So, yes. I believe it does."
Will let out a long sigh. Ran his fingers through his hair. Shook his head. He was a picture of defeat.
"We'll figure it out," He said at last. "There's no two people better suited for it, at least. You're a behavioral expert, and nobody knows anyone better than I know you. We'll work on it, together. We'll figure it out."
Hannibal felt tears in his eyes. He must've been a saint in a past life, to deserve Will Graham in this one. "Will," he breathed, enchanted.
"I don't want to leave, Hannibal. I love you. So we'll do what we always do, and find a way to stick together."
Will yawned, coffee apparently not enough to curb his exhaustion. "I slept like shit while I was gone, what about you?"
Hannibal gave him a teary smile. "It was dreadful, naturally."
Will nodded. He stood, gathering up the duvet and leaving for the bedroom. "I'll be in bed, come join me when you're done washing up."
Hannibal wiped an errant tear from his cheek, smile almost hurting his face. "Of course, darling."
"Don't take too long, I missed you," Will called from the hallway.
Hannibal sped through cleaning, pleased to see that Will had eaten quite a large portion of breakfast. Was running free truly better than belonging like this?
Will was already half asleep by the time Hannibal settled into their bed. It felt so inviting, warm and peaceful. Will rolled halfway onto him, head resting on Hannibal's chest. Their legs tangled together easily.
"Missed you," Will mumbled. It was the third time he'd said it this morning, and it made Hannibal think of mugs and blankets and Christmas.
"I missed you too, Will. Every moment," He said, although he was certain that was obvious. Will wrapped a protective arm around Hannibal and sighed.
He looked so peaceful, mostly asleep and finally back where he belonged, and the image pulled at Hannibal's heart. Yes, Will belonged here as much as Hannibal did. If Hannibal was collared, then Will was as well. Collared into putting up with eccentric habits and fussy preferences and a propriety that probably seemed unnecessary. And Will expressed a slight distaste for it through rolled eyes and teasing remarks, but he seemed to wear his collar so gracefully on a daily basis. Hannibal envied that, wanted to follow Will's example. Will knew how to love correctly, at least in Hannibal's eyes. He wanted to love how Will Graham loved.
"We should get a dog."
Will perked up instantly, rousing from his almost-sleep like he'd been electrocuted. "What?"
"I was thinking about it while you were away. We're settled here, as well as we'll ever be. You want a dog, don't you?"
Will looked delighted by the mere idea of it, and Hannibal didn't want to fight the grin on his face at the sight. "I just figured- I mean, yes. Of course I want a dog, do you know how perfect our yard is for a dog?"
Hannibal chuckled, completely enamored by Will's excitement. He let his fingers find their way into dark curls, idly caressing them as they talked. "I considered picking one out myself, so that it could greet you when you came back."
"You said that you thought I wasn't coming back."
Hannibal shrugged. "A man can hope. And then I would've had a companion to fill the void you'd left."
Will laughed. "You're serious?" He waited for Hannibal to nod before saying. "Okay, let's get a dog. Soon, I mean. Once you start feeling a little more...comfortable?"
"Seeing you happy makes it easier," Hannibal said. "It makes the idea of domesticity more palatable, seeing how well you take to it."
Will snorted. "You think I'm taking to it well?"
"Aren't you?"
Will thought it over for a moment. "I guess so. I've always been more of a loner, though. I felt like I had to play a part, whenever I lived with other people. Normal son for my dad, normal husband for Molly." He looked up at Hannibal, blue eyes sparkling. "I guess I just like getting to be myself, you know? Abnormal."
Hannibal nodded. He knew the liberation that accompanied being seen, though his was coupled with a desire to hide once more. "I'll consider that."
Will leaned in and Hannibal met him with a kiss. Will settled back against Hannibal's chest, and he relished the warmth that spread through him.
And something about it, something about the hand at his side and the scarred cheek on his chest and heart beating in tandem with his own-
Something about it made him want to cherish being known.