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Ensnared

Chapter Text

Will woke with his body draped over Hannibal's. The sun shone through the domed skylight illuminating the rather empty room. Well, empty except for a small, pillow-less cot and Hannibal who was also awake. He could feel the other's hand trailing down his back, running up and down the length of his spine. It was a rather soothing action and had they been anywhere else, Will might have shifted slightly and gone back to sleep. But he was well aware of where they were. 

He was well aware that the uncomfortable pillow-less cot belonged to the Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane. So did the jumpsuits, the room with the massive domed skylight, the jumpsuits they were in, and for the moment, them. But this was just a rest stop on the way to their final destinations, wherever that was. But Will wasn't worried, partially because he knew Hannibal had a plan and partially because their recent actions would make them difficult to place. They had spent five days in the hospital, four of which had bloodshed of some sort. 

They had fallen asleep on their sides, pressed so close together they were practically one person on the tiny cot. It was large enough for one person to fit comfortably, but two was a tight squeeze. It was probably how Will had ended up with his body draped over Hannibal's with one leg between Hannibal's legs and his arm stretched above them. The other didn't seem to care that his hand, the one stroking over his back, was trapped by Will's body. It was an incredibly awkward position, but he was strangely comfortable with it. Probably because it was him and it was Hannibal. 

"They'll be delivering breakfast soon," Hannibal murmured. 

"Do you think they'll bring enough for both of us, or will we have to fight over the roll?" 

Hannibal huffed a small laugh. "You can have the roll." The other tucked his free hand under Will's chin, gently pulling his head up. "I have what I want." 

The other shifted himself to press them closer, as if that was possible, while their lips brushed lightly. 

Hannibal had everyone fooled, but Will. 

When his lips sought Will's, he wasn't doing so just to display affection. He was quelling anxiety. Or perhaps anxiety wasn't the right word. But it was an emotion akin to it. 

After Will had told Hannibal about all the conversations he'd had about the other without him there, Hannibal began to open up more. It started slowly, with Hannibal revealing bits and pieces here and there. Never the full story and not all at once. Ultimately, it took Will obsessively revisiting each piece to finally be able to form the first picture of Hannibal's past. The first real picture. He had seen bits and pieces here and there. The man in Lecter Castle, Chiyoh, Mischa. And when he had a picture, a very blurry picture, he went to Hannibal. It was then that the other finally told him the whole story. No lies, no exaggerations, nothing but the truth. 

So, he knew as Hannibal tugged him closer, what exactly he was asking for. 

And Will gave it. 

He shifted himself up more so neither of them was straining their necks as they kissed. The other's tongue swiped along the seam of his lips and Will let him probe further willingly. The other cupped his cheek as he had done so many times before while his tongue swiped over Will's teeth. He knew the exact moment Hannibal lost himself in the act because Will was suddenly pushed onto his back as Hannibal moved for better access. 

He grasped for the other, pulling him closer and rolling them again as he cradled the other's head in his arm. It was enough to satisfy Hannibal and his own inner monster which was purring at the chance to comfort Hannibal in this way. Even over the year they had spent with each other, they have never been this physically close. They had slept in the same bed, had eaten together, hunted together, but never this. Never had he comforted Hannibal in this way. In this case, it wasn't the monster who needed the proximity; the beast within who had escaped forged chains only to land in captivity once more. It was the man. Hannibal's monster loved to preen and goad. It enjoyed playing, batting around others like a cat with a ball of twine. Will's was far more vicious, far more feral. But both bathed in blood and spoke the same language. Which was why their monsters were so drawn to each other. Just as much as the men.

But this was Hannibal, the once scared little boy who built a castle and hid behind the monster within. 

It was Hannibal who needed the comfort he could find in Will, even in a place he had grown used to over the course of three years. 

A loud banging drew their attention as Will tore himself away from Hannibal to glare at the door. There was a small hatch in the bottom that opened and two trays were slid under. 

He knew Hannibal was thinking about the newness of the hatch. Even Will marveled at how impersonal it was. The first time he had been there, at least the meals were set on the small opening in the bars, not slid under the door like they were wild animals being fed. 

But perhaps they had earned that title after their previous few days. 

The monster within Will calmed at the sight of the food, his shoulders dropping from his ears. 

The other reached up, turning Will's face back toward him. There was a small, soft smile on his lips that was overshadowed by the amusement evident in his eyes. 

"Easy." 

Will dipped his head to kiss Hannibal again, the other accepting the gesture and deepening the kiss before they parted. Will stood and grabbed the trays, the familiar and more than likely bland food glaring up at him. He didn't return to the bed after he handed Hannibal his tray, instead finding a spot on the floor to eat. Hannibal would likely be picky about crumbs left in the bed. 

Hannibal sat next to him, and after a moment, a second roll joined the one on his tray. 

Will looked up, a question in his eyes. 

"I said you could have the roll." 

"And you are a man of your word," Will answered. 

"I am." 

They ate in relative silence, the two of them sitting shoulder to shoulder on the cold floor. He wondered how Hannibal had managed in here for three years. It was incredibly under stimulating. He supposed Hannibal's mind palace played a large role in his ability to stay sane, or as sane as Hannibal Lecter could be, while stuck in what was essential a gilded cage. Now that he was on this side for more than a moment to persuade Hannibal to play his game, he could see exactly what it felt like. It reminded him of a zoo exhibit. One where Hannibal was the predator on the other side of the glass. And now Will was too. 

He knew there had been other things in here, privileges that Alana took away after it was revealed that Hannibal had been in contact with the Dragon. He remembered seeing Hannibal's desk and while he couldn't see the drawings on it, he knew that Hannibal had likely busied himself by drawing things he knew by heart. 

"What were you expecting would happen when you came that day?" Hannibal asked after their trays were abandoned back through the recently opened hatch. 

Will didn't need to ask what Hannibal meant. 

"I wasn't certain." He paced around the room as he spoke, memorizing it. "I just want you out. The rest I would deal with later." He let his fingers trail over the bookshelves that were embedded into the wall and suddenly he and Hannibal were in the latter's office once more, circling around the chair as they had done once before. 

"So you made a deal and then brought Jack on board." 

Will chuckled. "You would have been out of here. One way or another. You knew I wasn't leaving you in here." 

"When you came, your false and stinging goodbye on your lips, you touched the glass." Hannibal was circling the room as well. 

"It was the closest I could get to actually touching you." 

"If the Dragon hadn't come that night, if he waited, what would you have done with me?" The other was curious, not because he thought Will would have killed him then. 

Will smirked. "I had you where I wanted you. And I didn't care who I had to use to get you there." Will's fingers trailed over the glass. He knew why Hannibal was asking these questions because he knew who was once again most likely in their audience. Hannibal wanted Jack to know where Will stood. Who he belonged to. 

"Jack. Dolarhyde. You used them all." Hannibal's voice was thick with amusement. 

"And I had you right where I wanted you, didn't I?" Will neared him. "Don't I?" 

"You know they are likely figuring out a way to send us to other sides of the planet if Jack has his way," Hannibal said softly. 

"I know." Will stepped up in front of him, their bodies only inches away. Not that they hadn't violated each other's personal space as recently as half an hour before. 

When it came to the two of them, there wasn't anything about the other that didn't belong to them both. Everything between them was personal. Will's space belonged to Hannibal just as Hannibal's space belonged to Will. Though nothing had happened physically between the two of them until the day before, when Will offered Hannibal the blood that was still on his tongue, their relationship was far more intimate than any relationship Will had ever experienced in the past. There wasn't much left between them that the other didn't know. 

He reached his hand out, brushing over Hannibal's chest, thinking again of just how much he hated these godforsaken jumpsuits. 

They didn't flatter anyone, except maybe the floor. 

"You want to know what Jack's up to," Will said quietly, making certain his voice wouldn't be heard on the microphones that no doubt likely littered the room. "I bet I can get him in here."

"You bet?" Hannibal was intrigued by the idea. "And what are you offering?"

"If you win, you can figure out your prize later. But if I win, if I can lure him into the room, then you would still have a reward."

"Would I?" There was nothing Hannibal liked more than knowing Will could easily traipse around his mind. He knew that Will knew better than anyone what ran around his mind. So, Will knew just how much it would satisfy Hannibal to rub their newly burgeoning physical relationship in Jack's face. 

"You would," Will stepped closer still. He could feel the heat of Hannibal's body. 

"And what would your prize be?" The other asked lowly. "If you win, you would want some form of a reward for yourself." 

"Maybe I'll figure out my prize later too." 

"Our prizes would likely be the same thing, win or lose." The other's amber eyes were lit with amusement and a hint of excitement. But Will could see deeper. He could see the lust that was brewing underneath, brought forth by Will's playful yet cruel nature once again. 

It wasn't the first time Hannibal knew Will had baited Jack into a situation where Jack was not the one to benefit. The day that Hannibal had been referring to before, the day of his escape, Will had been equally as playful as he approached Hannibal. In truth, it was a bit of a release to know that he didn't have to wear his mask anymore. He had worn it for years before Hannibal and only ever let it down while trying to lure Hannibal into a trap. And then everything had happened in Florence, and Will drew the mask back up. He hid behind it for three years. But the feeling of the mask being down, of not having to pretend, was one he missed while he forced himself and Hannibal to be apart. As apart as they could be anyway. 

He told Hannibal before that they were conjoined. It was the very reason they didn't do well apart now. Putting them in separate cells had proved deadly to those around them. It was the reason Will had blood on his tongue when they were finally together once again. 

He let his hand trail down the rather uncomfortable material of Hannibal's jumpsuit. 

"How do you propose to earn Jack's attention?"

"We already have it," Will answered. "He just needs a little push." 

"And you're quite fond of giving little pushes." 

"Aren't you?" 

Hannibal's lips quirked slightly before Will pushed forward, pressing their lips together. 

The kiss was nowhere near as chaste as their earlier kisses. It was needy, with teeth and tongues that explored and tasted. And drew blood. Will shifted his attention to Hannibal's neck, his eyes drifting upward to the camera in the high corner of the room before he pressed a kiss to the other's neck. The other turned his head slightly to give Will access as he trailed his tongue over the other's flesh. 

From there, he moved to the jumpsuit.

There was a zipper to Hannibal's grey jumpsuit that was also on Will's blue one. It sat just at the collar. It was plastic and small, not enough to make a weapon out of, but enough to pull the jumpsuit off when it was washed or when they needed to take it off for showers. The first time in BSHCI, Will had rarely worn the jumpsuit unless he knew someone was coming. Otherwise, he only ever wore the t-shirt and underwear they gave him. Hannibal, though, was seemingly always in the jumpsuit, wearing it with pride as he did his usual suits. 

Will secured the zipper between his teeth, dragging it downward as he lowered himself first onto one knee and then both. 

Hannibal's pupils were blown wide when Will finally let go of the zipper. 

Behind him, the door slammed open. 

Will pushed himself to his feet, a smirk on his face.

"Told you so."

Chapter Text

Jack had been holding out hope that the reason Will was with Hannibal was that the latter had manipulated him in some way. His hopes should be dashed, the moment he saw Will make eye contact with him through the monitor. In truth, he knew Will didn't know exactly where he was on the other side of the camera, but Will was smart enough to know that he was there. That when his bright blue eyes looked up, he would essentially be looking at Jack. And Jack couldn't take it anymore. He couldn't take the seeming tenderness between the two of them. He couldn't take Will's answers and the way they seemed to be batting around inside jokes at Jack's expense. He had taken his eyes off the two of them for moments when he arrived at the visitor's side of the cell only to find Will on his knees in front of Hannibal. 

Will stood, leaning forward to whisper something to Hannibal as Jack cleared his throat. He would have thought his entrance, the door slamming into the wall, was enough to draw their attention, but it was clear to now that the only person either truly cared to pay attention to was the other. 

Hannibal didn't bother rezipping up his jumpsuit, instead leaving it so that the t-shirt under his jumpsuit was exposed. It seemed Will hadn't unzipped it fully, because any lower and Jack would have seen the boxers the other wore as part of the BSHCI uniform. Or perhaps he would choose to go commando around Will. Jack honestly didn't want to find out. He was more focused on the fact that while Hannibal's eyes had turned to him after clearing his throat, Will stayed with his back turned. Hannibal reached up, stroking over Will's arm as though he was calming the other, or perhaps something more. 

One of Jack's greatest fears was that not only had he driven Will and Hannibal together, but that whatever emotions Hannibal could and did have, he felt them for Will. He was certain that Hannibal was in love with Will. But his greatest fear was that Will was in love with Hannibal. Love made people do strange things, dangerous things. 

Eventually, Will pulled away from Hannibal and turned to meet Jack's gaze. The man he saw was the same hardened man that greeted him the first time Will was in BSHCI. Hannibal's leash was tighter than ever on Will. He was certain the man he was looking at was Hannibal, but wearing a different face, staring at him through foreign eyes. 

Will walked around the room after a moment, stretching, and then leaned lazily against the bookshelves in the back of the room. Hannibal folded his hands behind his back. Both of them were waiting for Jack to speak. He looked back and forth between the two men, predators locked together in a cage, who very clearly had no intentions of preying on each other. He was reminded of the times he went to a zoo and saw a mated pair of predators. Most animals weren't monogamous, but in zoos they often were. Shoved together and forced to reproduce. He had shoved Will and Hannibal together and the product was standing before him. 

"We are currently looking for a place to put you." Jack started, not bothering with formalities. Will and Hannibal shared a look, but Jack continued. "Given your recent actions, you're hard to place. No one will take you both. So for the time being, you'll be staying here. It shouldn't feel too strange. Almost like home." 

Hannibal's amber eyes sparkled, noting the jab and readying himself to lob it right back when Jack heard "Hannibal" spoken softly, and like a warning. Hannibal's mouth closed immediately, his retort dying on his lips. 

For the first time, Jack was surprised and very, very worried. 

Worried because he had been certain the whole time that Hannibal was still manipulating Will. Hannibal was the puppet master and Will his puppet. When Hannibal said dance, Will did. He was so certain that the reason they were still together was due to a manipulation of Hannibal's. That his wayward profiler was still there, under cruel ocean colored eyes and a predator that reminded Jack so much of a panther, coiled and ready to strike. 

Was it-

Was it Will who was really in charge? 

Had he lost Will so completely that even Hannibal Lecter bent to him? 

He had seen, only an hour earlier, as Will's head shot upward, glaring at the door. He was damned near predatory. 

He decided to shelve it for a moment, instead addressing the other reason he had entered the room. He turned his attention toward Will, ignoring Hannibal for a moment. As much as Hannibal could be ignored, that is. 

"Your wife calls me every week, wondering what happened to you." Will regarded him coolly, almost to the point of cruel. "She's in the office now, wondering if she can see you." 

Will's eyes flicked up to the camera, as though he was looking at her as he had looked at Jack. His eyes dropped again, this time finding Hannibal who had turned to look back to him. But he said nothing, he didn't give away one way or another what he was feeling if he was feeling anything at all. 

He knew at that moment, the moment Will and Hannibal found each other in that room, he was all but ignored. They would still both know he was there, but neither cared. The other was the center of their world, and Jack was beginning to realize just how deep that bond went. He was always aware that the two of them had some strange connection, but this was by far much more intimate than he ever knew. Who held the leash didn't matter. 

He had one last card to play, one last way to try to get through to Will. 

"What should she tell Wally? Your stepson." 

Will's hand twitched and Jack's eyes dropped to it. It was devoid of a ring. 

"She can tell him whatever she wants." 

There was no emotion in Will's voice. Nothing to indicate that he at all cared one way or another for the child he had fathered for two years.

Jack was out of things to say that didn't involve yelling and right now, he wasn't about to put himself on the wrong end of not one but two highly lethal killers. He would find a chance to talk to Will alone, away from Hannibal. 

Maybe the man he knew was still in there but hidden very well.


"That was cruel," Hannibal said as he turned toward Will. 

Will didn't answer at first, instead staring at the space Jack once occupied. After a moment, he formed a response, his eyes finding Hannibal's once more. 

"You said Jack saw me as the fragile teacup, only taken out for special occasions." It was the first time either of them had ever brought up teacups as it always led back to Abigail in some form or another. That was still a sore subject that Will chose to ignore, just as Hannibal only ever opened up about Mischa twice and then shoved her away with the ghosts that haunted the halls of his mind palace. "Shattered teacups are rather sharp."

Hannibal tipped his head in acknowledgment, more focused on Will who was now coming closer than he was Will's words. 

Will folded Hannibal against him, their lips meeting in the space between them. Hannibal wasted no time wrapping his arms around Will, pressing them just as tightly together as Will was.

Will didn't care about the world around him. Some part of him should care for Molly, should care for Walter. But in truth, he and Molly were using each other in their relationship. Molly was a good person, a sweet person. But she never truly knew Will. And they were only to each other what they needed at the moment. Molly needed someone to help her move past Walter's father who she still carried a torch for by the time she and Will met. And Will needed someone to help him forget Hannibal, not that it happened. He had never forgotten Hannibal. The man had haunted his dreams and the moments Will had alone. He would see Hannibal's face at the forefront of his mind whenever he did something that was mind-numbingly normal. Even fishing was always accompanied by a stag in the distance, the feathers of a raven adorning its dark hide. 

Molly should move on, and tell Walter whatever she needed to. In truth, it was always going to end the way it did. He just hadn't expected the sheer amount of a part Hannibal would play ultimately. 

He shifted himself down slightly, grasping the back of Hannibal's thighs and hauling him upward. He was certain that a part of Hannibal enjoyed when Will manhandled him, even though this was only to move them to the little cot. It was easier than the two of them shuffling while joined at the lips. He lowered himself carefully onto the cot, feeling the way Hannibal adjusted his legs around Will's waist so they would land next to his hips when they lied down. 

It didn't take much to turn them on their sides, legs tangled together below them. Will stretched out his arm to function as Hannibal's pillow, while Hannibal did the same. Their arms would go numb from where they were acting as headrests for the other, but neither cared. Their other hands linked between them, fingers dancing together. 

This wouldn't lead to sex. Neither would want that with an audience. Hannibal was an exhibitionist, Will knew this, but he wouldn't want any intimacy with Will to be shared. He already had to share this. He wouldn't share anymore. Instead, he would certainly work them both up, just as Will would, but they would wait. Wait until they were either in a familiar bed, back in Cuba, or at least until they could find a hotel with a massive bed and soft sheets. And pillows. 

God the pillows. 

Their hands kept clasping and unclasping as they kissed, fingers twining and then untwining. 

Will liked Hannibal's hands. He liked his long fingers and the veins on the back. He liked how strong his hand could be and how they were gentle when he wanted them to be. He enjoyed the way their hands fit together, Hannibal's fingertips brushing just below his knuckles and leaving indentations when he squeezed. 

The other shifted after a moment, moving his attention from Will's lips to the long, jagged scar on his forehead. Hannibal's eyes had traced the scar more than once, and it was a comfort to him to trace the scar now. Will knew. He also knew he would eventually go for the scar on Will's stomach. 

Molly had asked how he received the scar once. He didn't answer. She likely already knew the answer, but he told her to ignore it, that it didn't matter. 

It actually mattered very much. It was just another way that Will and Hannibal were bound, a physical reminder of their binds manifested on Will's skin. It wasn't as though Hannibal was lacking in scars either. As Hannibal pulled away, Will's eyes opened and he glanced down at the long, thin scar on Hannibal's wrist. The other was hidden behind his head, but they too were a reminder of their bond, of the damage they could do, and just how tightly they were conjoined. 

He lifted Hannibal's hand to press a kiss to his wrist, letting his tongue trail over the scar. 

Hannibal shuddered and held his hand in place for a moment even after Will pulled away. 

Their eyes met again as the other's hand dropped, moving to the zipper on his jumpsuit and lowering it slowly. It would have come off one way or another. He truly did hate the wretched thing. 

He was certain their audience would think they were about to do something far more intimate, and that one of the audience members would remember a time when they did something similar. But Will didn't care. 

Instead, he felt the way Hannibal's hand slipped inside his jumpsuit, pressing against his back. He felt the heat of his hand the way his fingers flexed. He shifted slightly, lying more on his back as Hannibal pulled his arm free. The jumpsuit was difficult to push off, but eventually, they managed, the majority of the fabric pooling around Will's waist and revealing the plain white t-shirt underneath. Hannibal didn't dare pull it off him, his own possessiveness not letting more of Will's body be seen. Instead, he pushed up the sleeve, revealing the scar on Will's right bicep where Chiyoh had shot him. 

Chiyoh was the reason they were here. Not on purpose. But rumors spread far enough to reach Hannibal's ears, rumors of trouble that drew them from Cuba. And he went for her. And then they were here. 

They would find their way out. But Hannibal wasn't in a rush. They weren't being placed yet, Jack had confirmed as much. They had time. 

Hannibal's lips trailed over the scar, his tongue circling it. Will's head fell back onto the thin mattress. After a moment, he shifted his attention again, tugging at the collar of Will's shirt until the scar on his shoulder was revealed. His tongue traced over the thin line while Will grasped Hannibal's other hand, the one he hadn't kissed yet, and brought it to his lips. Hannibal didn't stop him as his tongue trace over that scar as well. Before Hannibal could move back to the scar on his cheek, Will found the small, scar on Hannibal's right cheek, tracing that with his tongue. 

The moment was surprisingly intimate, even more than any time he'd had sex in the past. It felt as though every kiss, every time Hannibal's tongue traced over a wound, it was going directly to his soul, marking him over and over as belonging to Hannibal. 

Hannibal found his cheek after a moment. 

Will had never had an injury burn as much as the one on his cheek had. Hannibal had taken care of it, carefully stitching it and washing it. But the inside was difficult. Hannibal had spoken to him the whole time, soft and reassuring. Will could still feel the thin scar on the inside of his cheek with his tongue. Perhaps he should tell Hannibal that and let the other feel for himself. 

The other was about to move when Will told him and Hannibal's amber eyes sparkled. He attacked Will's mouth with fervor, running his tongue over the long thin scar inside his cheek. When Hannibal tried to pull away though, Will wouldn't let him, this time pressing a harsh kiss to the other's lips and feeling the way Hannibal hummed against him. 

He let the other go, sliding his hand inside Hannibal's jumpsuit and letting his fingers run over the brand on Hannibal's back. 

He hadn't known about the brand at first, not until the day at the cliff house. It had apparently been mentioned at Hannibal's trial, but Will had been too busy trying to cage his monster once more to pay attention. And the brand made him irrationally angry. Mason had done it to claim Hannibal in a way. And Will hated it. Because Hannibal was his, and only his. He had thought about ways to change the brand, to make it no longer a symbol of Mason but rather him. And then he thought about ways to make it more like Hannibal. He knew the other would let him, but that was a thought for another time. Now, he focused on letting his fingers trail over the raised flesh. 

Hannibal trailed downward, his breath hot even through Will's shirt. But he didn't kiss him. Instead, he let his lips trail over fabric until he settled right at Will's abdomen. He untucked the t-shirt, pulling it free and then pushing it upward enough to reveal the scar — the smile — on Will's abdomen. Will fisted his hand in the other's hair, feeling the strands shift with his movements. 

Hannibal kissed each part of the scar, every kiss followed by a swipe of his tongue. Will didn't feel much when it came to the skin surrounding the scar, not anymore. Yet Hannibal's attention seemed to light the scar on fire. His body arched of its own volition toward Hannibal's mouth. 

The other nipped at his abdomen, causing him to jump and yelp in surprise. He was immediately greeted with a sly smile that was mostly teeth. 

He tugged the other back up toward him by his hair, not too harshly though, but it was enough that Hannibal knew what he wanted. 

Their lips met again as Will dragged one of Hannibal's legs over his hip. 

"You taste divine," Hannibal whispered lowly. 

Will chuckled. "Do I?" 

Hannibal's answer sounded more like a sigh than an actual answer. "Yes."

Chapter Text

For the second time that day, Hannibal lost himself in his attempt to seek comfort from Will. This time, though, when Hannibal pushed Will on his back, he went. Hannibal's leg slid between Will's. He reached to press his hand to the other's lower back, holding him closer. His other hand cupped the back of Hannibal's head. He would grow tired of not showering here soon. Though they had only been there for five days total and neither he nor Hannibal had showered since their third day. Will didn't mind the grime, he grew up constantly dirtying his hands. But Hannibal would grow tired of it. Not that he wasn't one who could dirty his hands and not care, but his hygiene was important to him. Will remembered several days while they were sailing to Cuba in which Hannibal basically bathed in the sink. Neither could shower yet, but that didn't stop Hannibal from attempting to wash himself. He was able to reach mostly everything, but it was Will who often had to sponge off his back. 

He never told Hannibal how tempted he had been to kiss the brand. 

Hannibal's mouth moved from his lips to his neck. Will turned his head, giving the other access. Hannibal moved one hand under Will's body and the other into his hair. 

Hannibal liked pulling his hair, he noticed. He did it that night in his kitchen, though Will had been too busy with other pains to truly notice until later, and he did it again when he was sawing into his head, but even there Will had been focusing on other pains, not that he could focus much at all. But he noticed nonetheless. It became painfully obvious that it was something Hannibal liked to do as they fell over the side of the cliff. Hannibal had let Will take them over, let him try to kill them both, but lived. As they went over the cliff though, Hannibal's fingers twisted in his hair once more, tugging at the strands at the back of his head. 

And he was doing the same thing now, pulling at the stands of Will's curls while his teeth sunk into Will's neck. He didn't bite hard, just hard enough that it would leave a mark but not enough to draw blood. This time. He would eventually, Will knew. He would sink his teeth in and draw blood just to taste Will, to claim him even more than he was now. He was sending a message to their audience, which may or may not include Molly still. He was saying that Will belonged to him. He was marking him, claiming him publicly. Stating to Jack, to Molly, to anyone else on the other side of the camera that Will belonged to him. And not to them. Not anymore. He was no longer Jack's teacup. He was Hannibal's monster, nurtured and dragged to the surface to match Hannibal's own. 

Will let his eyes slide shut as he fisted his hand in Hannibal's hair. 

He wished they were somewhere else. He wished this aspect of their relationship hadn't occurred because of just how much they missed each other and the blood on his teeth. He wished that it had happened at their home. When one night, maybe an anniversary or a birthday, when they had just enough wine to be loose but not enough to be drunk. He imagined that he would offer himself as he did in the cell, taking the first move because Hannibal wouldn't dare. He imagined that Hannibal would kiss him fiercely as he did now. He imagined that at least one of them would collide with a wall as they tried to move through the house, Hannibal strangely graceless. They would be frenzied like teenagers, tearing at clothes and leaving them discarded as they went into their room. One of them would put up a chase when they reached the stairs, letting the other explore their inner hunter until they reached the bedroom. They would take their time, taking off clothes so slowly that it would be damned near agonizing. It couldn't be like unwrapping presents on Christmas morning. No. This would be slow, sensual. Hands would explore, touch, feel. Nails would dig into skin and teeth would follow the exploration of tongue. 

"Come back," Hannibal whispered in his ear. 

Will's lips curved upward slowly. He opened his eyes lazily, pressing his cheek against Hannibal's.

"I'm here." 

"You weren't. Where did you go?" 

"Home," Will answered, tugging Hannibal closer. "A good dinner. Even better company. Wine. This." 

"I'll give you that," Hannibal promised. 

"You do like your promises," Will hummed. 

"It's not the promise that matters to me." Hannibal nuzzled against his cheek. 

"Don't-" Will stopped him from saying anything more. It wasn't like he didn't know it. He had told Hannibal as much previously. "Not here. Please." 

He couldn't let Hannibal say those words, finally say them when Will had the courage to say them back, when they had an audience. Hannibal wouldn't want any other type of physical encounter to be in front of an audience. And Will didn't want this. There were things, no matter how much they wanted them, that couldn't occur in front of others. Maybe if their relationship had started sooner, maybe if they hadn't gone after Chiyoh, things could have been different. If they were in Cuba, Will would have given his emotions freely, not that it was easy for him, and they could have joined in that final way. But not here. Not now. Not with this audience. 

So many things in Will's life had been tainted. He wouldn't let this be tainted too. 

Hannibal was his, and nothing else between them belonged to anyone but them. And wasn't that strange? After years upon years of repression, denying themselves what they really wanted, they didn't have to anymore. Will could reach out if he wanted, he could keep Hannibal in his arms all day. When they said 'I love you,' they could say it any time. He and Hannibal had no reason to part, not anymore. Will had said they had one last goodbye between them, not that he meant his second goodbye. But this goodbye would only be said with death. 

He rolled, pushing Hannibal on his back, and twisted his arm, shielding their faces. His lips were next to Hannibal's ear and Hannibal's were next to his. Hannibal was planning their escape mentally, and while Will could nearly live in Hannibal's mind as it was, he wanted to know. 

"Tell me," He whispered.


When Molly walked in, all she saw was Will's back and the fact that he was very clearly wrapped in Hannibal Lecter's arms. 

She couldn't tell exactly what they were doing, not that anyone could tell what they were doing for the last several minutes. It wasn't as though she would be surprised though. For the last hour or so, the two of them had been locked in some embrace or another. The first thing she had to overcome was the shock at seeing the two of them alive. No one truly knew if Will or Hannibal had survived their fall. They had all seen the footage, the camera that was left overturned at the house on the cliff. 

Jack had tracked the cruiser, or so he told Molly. They had found a camera and called Molly in when the film was developed. Strangely enough, they also brought in Freddie Lounds who Molly had been avoiding like the plague. They had all seen the fight. She had seen the bloodlust on Will's face and the way he and Hannibal killed their opponent. And then, just when it looked as though they were in a rather passionate embrace before they Will pushed them to the side, and over the cliff they went. 

They were presumed dead. 

Jack didn't believe it and neither did Molly. 

But that was the story they told the world. 

Until five days ago. 

Molly likely wouldn't have been allowed in here today, were it not for the moment caught on the cameras just before their faces were hidden. She had seen Hannibal's teeth sink into Will's neck. And for a moment, everyone in the room held their breath. One thought was shared between the lot of them, everyone thinking and feeling the exact same thing. 

Will was going to die. 

And then he put his head back, holding Hannibal in place. 

He wasn't in danger. He was enjoying himself. 

The door shut behind her with a soft click, nothing like the noise Jack made when he entered the room, but it caught the attention of the two men on the other side of the glass. 

Will rolled off Hannibal, looking at the glass then dropping his head back on the bed as though he was trying to ignore her. Hannibal, however, sat up curiously. 

This was the first time she had ever seen Hannibal in person and she took a chance to study him. His hair was longer than the video, though it had been a year so she couldn't truly be surprised. It was slightly messy, which was a state she had never seen it in in any of the pictures he was in. Honestly, it made him look handsome in a different way. His high, sharp cheekbones accentuated his amber eyes, which were glaring holes in the glass. He had a strong jaw, which wasn't at all shown in the pictures. In fact, the impressiveness of his overall bone structure couldn't be truly appreciated until she was this close to him. And she hated him. 

She didn't hate Will. She had a year to figure out how she felt about the man who was once her husband. And she didn't hate him. But she hated Hannibal Lecter. She didn't hate the man with the ocean eyes, whose curls had grown longer and made him look more handsome than she had ever seen him. No. Not handsome. Beautiful. That was the only true way to describe Will Graham. He made most men pale in comparison and even quite a few women. He and Hannibal were starkly different from one another. And yet so obviously alike she wondered how she never saw it before. No, she didn't hate Will. She hated him.

Hannibal's posture was nothing short of possessive as he draped his arm over Will's waist. 

"Why are you here, Molly?" Will wasn't looking at her as he spoke. Instead, he was either staring at the ceiling or looking at Hannibal, stroking the other man's back. 

"I'm not here to talk to you," Molly answered as evenly as she could. She forced herself to turn and look at Hannibal. "I'm here to talk to him." 

Hannibal's eyes gleamed. 

Chapter Text

Will gasped as he pulled the two of them onto the shore. The air burned in his previously waterlogged lungs. His ears were sloshing and his shoulder and cheek burned from the salt. His arm was draped over Hannibal's body, where the latter was on his back, also gasping for air. The ocean didn't seem like it wanted to let them go, yet it released them, rather reluctantly, onto the shore. Its finger still pulled at them, the water lapping at their feet. But they were alive and somehow on land once again. He rolled onto his back, gasping and staring at the stars. They were sparkling above him. He remembered seeing the stars like this before, with the night so dark and the stars so bright and stretching out over black water, that there was no way to tell where the sky ended and the earth began. These were the same stars he looked at when he crossed the Atlantic for Hannibal previously. 

And the stars watched them as he pulled the two of them from the grasp of that same ocean. They were alive, he and Hannibal. And free. 

Hannibal's breathing calmed next to him, and in the silence Will almost wondered if Hannibal fell asleep or perhaps passed out. But as he turned his head, he could see the other's wet lashes shifting with every blink, the water brushing his cheek as it flicked off. Hannibal turned back toward him, the two of them staring at each other in what little distance was between them. He could probably have reached out by just turning his arm and touched the other, though he didn't know if the other wanted that. 

"You tried to kill us," Hannibal said quietly, clearly in pain. 

"We're not dead." 

"Why did you save me?" The other was still staring at him, not accusing but incredibly curious. "I would have drowned. You could have let me drown." 

"I could have," Will answered. 

"You made a choice." 

"And I chose you." Will's voice was nearly silent as he spoke, but he had to say it. "I could have let you drown, but I would have lived."

And I couldn't live in a world without you in it. He thought.

"So," Hannibal turned to look at the sky once more. "We either live together or die together." 

"Yes," Will breathed. 

"I would have chosen the same." 

Will's lips turned up at the corners. He too turned to look at the stars once more. "You did." Hannibal was quiet as they looked above them, both bleeding from wounds inflicted by another. "You stood in front of the window on purpose." 

The other was still quiet for a long moment before his hand moved and pressed against the wound in his abdomen. "I did."

Will sat up then, tearing his wet and bloodied shirt from him. It wasn't ideal, but Hannibal's wound would need pressure and after the ocean, it would bleed more. He pulled the other upright and Hannibal went willingly, staring at him the whole way. Will wound his shirt up before wrapping it around Hannibal's abdomen, tying it tight. The other groaned. Will realized then that Hannibal was letting his pain, his weakness show. He had seen Hannibal in pain before, but he hadn't shown he was in pain. He had barely even acknowledged his pain less than an hour earlier when he was shot. But he was now. And he was showing it to Will. 

The other reached up after a moment, stroking his fingers around the stab wound in Will's shoulder.

"It's not deep," Will said, though it was a lie. The blade was three inches, and all of it was buried into Will's shoulder at one point. But the other knew this. He already knew the blade was long because Will had used the same blade, still wet with the blood from his cheek and shoulder, to gut the Dragon. 

Hannibal looked at him with a gaze that told him he wasn't fooled by Will's little lie. He had offered his pain for Will to shoulder with him, and he expected Will to do the same. 

He nodded, leaning forward slightly so their foreheads touched. Both breathed heavily but this time, not from pain. 

"Can you walk?" Will asked quietly. 

"I can." Hannibal would be brave, bearing the pain so he could walk without troubling Will. And he knew the other could do it too. He had carried Will for miles, injured and tired, from Muskrat Farm to Will's home. 

But Will wouldn't let him. He pulled Hannibal upward, tucking the other's injured side against him. He wrapped his uninjured arm around the other's waist, pulling him close. The climb up the narrow steps on the side of the cliff was taken slowly, each of them taking the steps one leg at a time. Will's leg ached and his shoulder burned. His cheek pulsed, especially as he gritted his teeth, yet he clung to the other. Hannibal clung to him just as tightly, bearing Will's pain as Will bore Hannibal's. 

Up and up and up they went, hips brushing and bodies locked together. 

The steps took them right to the front of the house, to the garage. Will opened it, finding first a vehicle they could use, and then an untouched first aid kit. 

"Where are we going?" He asked, depositing Hannibal in the passenger's seat.

"The docks. I have a boat." 

"How far?" He looked down at his own bleeding wound which was exposed in the moonlight. They would bleed out if they waited too long. 

"Half an hour." Hannibal paused. "We'll live."


Hannibal didn't stand after Molly addressed him. Instead, he stayed perfectly on the bed, his arm still draped over Will's waist. Molly had never understood the whole idea of a jealous ex before. In fact, she still didn't fully understand it. Because it wasn't jealousy that reared its ugly head now. It was hatred. She hated him more and more the longer she was in his presence. That being said, she understood why it was so easy for someone to fall so deeply in love with Will and why someone would be jealous. Why Hannibal would be jealous. What Will and Molly had wasn't exactly love, but she knew some part of Will Graham and had felt something for that part. 

It was probably a mask that their relationship was built on. 

But she saw something in him, something real. With his dogs.

So, she understood how Hannibal, seeing all of Will, could fall so helplessly for him as he so obviously had.

And it was obvious, though it seemed most around her didn't see it. He was in love with the other man in their small bed. It was love that drove him to send someone after Molly and Wally. It was love that had him send the letter that dragged Will back into his influence. It was love that had driven him so mad, he had marked Will prominently for the world to see; his abdomen, his head. And his heart, though Molly didn't think Will had known about the last at the time. 

"What can I do for you then?" Hannibal's voice was almost lazy, his accent giving each word a careful lilt that betrayed the underlying threat. 

Molly's very existence was a threat to him. 

"I want to know why." It was hard to keep her voice calm. Oh, how she wanted to scream at him. Scream at the man who had nearly had her son murdered. Who nearly did the act, even if it was by proxy. Their blood would have been on Hannibal's hands, not the man he sent. 

"You know why," Hannibal answered. 

Molly's eyes flicked to Will and then back to Hannibal. The other nodded once, almost imperceptibly. 

"You nearly killed my son." The evenness of her voice was starting to crack. She could only stare at this man for so long, the man who wrecked her life, without spitting fire. 

"You have a fire in you," Hannibal said instead. "Untamed and burning bright. I imagine it makes for a warm household." He pulled his hand back over Will's waist, stroking him lightly. "I see why you chose her." He didn't look at Will as he talked, staying focused on Molly as though he was assessing her, appraising her. Will's fingers still danced over Hannibal's back.

"She has a name," Molly answered instead. 

"I know," He answered. "Molly Graham. Or is it Molly Foster once more?" He cocked his head. "You still don't quite know what to tell your son. But you know he knows. And you can't bring yourself to confirm it. Is that why you're here? To see him? Me? Us? To know that when you go home, you can truly say that Will Graham is dead." 

"The Will Graham I knew was never the real Will Graham." She looked over at the other man in the bed, seeing Will sit up finally. "You hid behind a mask. And I knew it. I needed you and you needed me, for the same reason." 

"And what reason was that?" Hannibal asked, though there was no way he didn't already know the answer. He had spent a year at Will's side and they had two together before that. No matter how much time Will and Molly had spent together, Hannibal had spent a lifetime with Will. 

"We both needed to try to forget the people we were once in love with." 

Will fell back on the bed. Molly wasn't surprised. Will didn't express his feelings well. 

"He thought I didn't know, and he tried to hide it." She continued. "He tried to keep our marriage together, even if he was distant." 

"How did you know?" Hannibal seemed genuinely curious.

"Will suffers from nightmares. Tossing and turning all throughout the night. He would wake me up, and he would always apologize after he finally woke up. But before he fought his way out of his dreams, he'd call out for someone." She was surprised that saying this didn't hurt her. Some part of her loved Will, but not the way Hannibal did. Will and Molly had loved each other in the same way, out of need. And love by need was easily broken. She knew the moment she woke in the hospital that their love was broken, and she had a year to come to terms with that fact. "The name he called out was always yours." 

She could still hear Will's broken voice calling out for Hannibal and sounding so choked and pained when he did. She never told him though that he was calling out for Hannibal. Instead, she would find a washcloth and wet it, bringing it back to the bed to cool his warm, damp brow. Then they would change the sheets and eventually sleep would claim them once more. Molly always fell asleep before Will though, who would stare up at the ceiling until long after her eyelids fluttered shut. 

"I imagine that pained you," Hannibal said, taking great joy — and not hiding it — at the prospect of her pain. 

"For a time." 

"And now?" 

"Now, I wanted to see you. To meet you. To look in the eyes of the man who tried to kill my son. Who tried to kill me. The man who tore Will apart so much that he was broken when I found him. And he never fully put himself back together." She glanced at Will again. "At least not while we were together. I wanted you to know that I see you. To know that you saw me, that you looked in my eyes. And that you heard me." 

Hannibal was quiet for a moment, appraising her carefully as though his first few glances weren't enough. 

"I'm listening." 

She took a deep breath. "You didn't win. Your games didn't work. Not on me. You have what you wanted, who you wanted. But your reach for me failed. You did not mark me and you most certainly did not break me, Hannibal Lecter." 

With that, she turned on her heel, not waiting for him to answer, and left, saying a silent goodbye to Will along the way. 

Chapter Text

Hannibal fell back onto the bed after Molly left, shifting so Will could pillow on his shoulder. His fingers traced patterns over the other's still exposed t-shirt, partially wishing that the shirt was gone so he could touch Hannibal, and partially grateful that the other was still covered. The sight of Hannibal belonged to Will and Will alone. Hannibal's fingers were brushing over his back, tracing down his spine before moving back up. 

"You don't want to kill her," Will said softly, almost hearing Hannibal's thoughts as he did. 

"No," Hannibal agreed. "I don't." Will could vaguely see the other's lips twitching in amusement and he shifted himself to see the other better. "You have a type." 

"Do I?" Will asked, seeing the challenge in Hannibal's eyes. The playful, jealous challenge. 

It shouldn't excite him, Hannibal's jealousy, but it did. He enjoyed Hannibal's possessiveness, even if he never admitted it to himself. Just over a year ago, he was confronting Hannibal over his possessiveness after Hannibal had sent the Dragon to kill the same person who just walked out of the room, and out of their lives. Molly had stated without saying it outright that she didn't want a part in Will and Hannibal's games. That she let Will go and hoped that they would do the same for her. He knew Hannibal enjoyed her brashness, her willingness to look him in the eye and tell him that she was not his to toy with. Like Miriam Lass, Hannibal respected her for that and it was the one thing that saved her life. No doubt Hannibal was planning a way to kill her the moment Jack mentioned her name. But now-

Hannibal was still jealous though. Jealous that someone else had a claim to Will's time, even if that claim had passed. 

"Yes." Will shifted himself as Hannibal spoke, pulling his leg over Hannibal's body slowly. "Alana, Molly, me." 

Will began shifting himself so he could settle over Hannibal's legs. 

"So," He said slowly. "We're going to talk about types now are we? Alana? Me?"

Will was jealous too, though he tried to push that down. But whenever it came to Hannibal, he couldn't help his jealousy. He noticed it the night he came to Hannibal's after kissing Alana, how jealous he was that Hannibal had shared a dinner with someone else and then anger on Hannibal's behalf because his guest had left abruptly, rudely. 

Hannibal enjoyed Will's jealousy too. His amber eyes gleamed as Will settled on top of him, their bodies brushing as he adjusted himself. 

"Perhaps we should talk about your valentine." He pulled himself upright, straddling Hannibal's legs. "You never did see mine." 

"Yours?" Hannibal pushed himself upward, leaning back on his hands. It was a rather lazy position that Will never thought he'd see the other in, but Hannibal was playing the same game Will was, riling each other up even though there was nothing they could do about it. 

Will took the opportunity to look over the other's figure.

It wasn't as though he didn't know Hannibal's body. He knew it as well as he knew his own. But that didn't mean every glance wasn't attractive and every gaze wasn't like dropping into a volcano. Hannibal set fire to his veins, stole his breath, and yet he breathed better and lived more completely in Hannibal's presence. He had told Chiyoh he didn't know himself as well as he did when he was with Hannibal, but he didn't just know himself. He knew Hannibal better when they were together, knew the world, and could weather it better with Hannibal next to him. Or under him as he was now. 

The first time in BSHCI has been torture. Not because it was a form of imprisonment. But because he had found someone he could rely on so completely, someone who became his safe place, his home in a way, who he had loved even then, only for them to be ripped away so thoroughly. He was isolated in BSHCI, from Hannibal, and it only relented slightly when Hannibal came to visit. He didn't want to need Hannibal, didn't want to enjoy his presence, didn't want to believe that even after everything, he still loved Hannibal. It was why he punished them both, letting Hannibal lock himself away in BSHCI as he had done to Will and stayed away for three years. Every day had been torture then too, but even worse because he wouldn't see Hannibal. Because he knew the moment he came back, he would never want to leave. 

And he didn't. He didn't want to leave Hannibal and Hannibal didn't want to leave him. 

Hannibal pushed upward, wrapping his arms around Will's waist. 

Will settled his hands on the other's shoulders, the two of them leaning forward until their foreheads touched. 

"Why did you want to touch me that day?" Hannibal whispered.

"Because I never felt as much like myself, as much at home, as I do when I'm with you." 

Hannibal leaned forward to press their lips together but Will pulled back slightly, not far, but just enough. Hannibal's eyes flashed as he pressed forward more. Will let their lips brush before pulling back slightly once more. Hannibal paused, their lips just barely a breath away from each other's. Will shifted one of his hands into Hannibal's hair. The other's eyelids were fluttering, wanting to sink under the surface of their connection. Will was tempted himself, his own eyelids growing heavier. One of Hannibal's hands settled against his lower back while the other moved to massage the back of his neck, his fingers twirling in Will's curls. 

Hannibal was growing hard under him, Will could feel it.

He pushed up on his knees slightly so he could shift forward, setting more on the other's lap. 

The other's neck was craning upward as he tilted his face down, staying just far enough away so that their lips wouldn't brush.

Not yet. 

Hannibal didn't need the comfort now, didn't need to satisfy the anxiety of the man within. This was a different need now. This was one both the monster and the man had. And it was this need that Will was more willing to play with. 

He wanted him. And he wanted Hannibal to want him just as much in return, if not more. 

Three loud bangs echoed through the room and Will released the breath he didn't even realize he had been holding. 

"Lunch," He whispered just as the trays were slid through the hatch. 

The rest of the day was spent mostly in the cot, the two of them sitting side by side with their backs against the wall and their legs hanging over the edge. Will sat with his head back and his eyes shut, his hand linked with Hannibal's and resting on the other's leg. He knew the other drifted to the same place he did, the Norman Chapel in Palermo. He could almost feel the light on his face as he sat with Hannibal next to him. Now and then, Hannibal's leg would twitch purposefully, forcing their legs to brush together. 

At dinner, they moved to the other side of the room where they had eaten breakfast and lunch. 

For five days, they had been locked in the Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane. They had been in custody for a week before that between their capture and then waiting for Jack to escort them back to the states as part of their extradition. For nearly two weeks, they were kept apart, save for the nearly 10-hour flight. Now they were back in each other's presence for the last 24 hours. And that was all the time they would spend being housed by the Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane. That was the last they would spend under Jack's nose. He had said his goodbyes long ago, to Jack, to Molly, and they were all reaffirmed now that he had seen them once more. 

Count to seven.

Will opened his eyes. 

The sun set two hours prior and the room was nearly dark, only small lights near the floor lit the room. They weren't bright, but just enough that Will could make out everything in the room, and especially Hannibal beside him. He pulled his hand free from the other's grasp. To the untrained eye, it would look like Hannibal had fallen asleep. His head was still back against the wall, his body still and his breathing slow and even. His hand stayed on his thigh where Will left it, palm upturned as though he were waiting for Will to place his hand back in Hannibal's. 

Will paced around the room, stretching as he did. He stretched his arms, reaching them above his head. And then he stretched his legs, bringing his knees up to his chest one leg at a time. He paced the area that once housed a desk, popping up onto the balls of his feet and then back down again. He clasped his arms behind his back, pulling and rolling his neck at the same time. He felt every step he took, the way his muscles flexed as his foot lifted and then landed on the floor. He leaned this way and that, loosening his back. And just as he rounded where the desk would have been, facing the door and only feet from it, Will shut his eyes once more. 

His body dropped to the floor. 

One. 

Hannibal was up and moving swiftly across the room to kneel next to Will. 

Two. 

A warm hand grasped his shoulder and Hannibal's voice echoed above him softly, calling to him. 

Three.

Hannibal stood up, his footsteps moving toward the door. The door echoed with the bang of his fist, the metal shaking, and the hinges rattling as he tried to catch the guard's attention. 

Four. 

"Stand back or I will tase you." 

The door opened, squeaking as it did. Hannibal's footsteps echoed as he moved backward and a guard moved into the room. 

Five.

The door didn't shut as the guard kneeled next to him. He wasn't dumb enough to shut himself into a room with Will Graham and Hannibal Lecter. It was a game of risks. 

But he wasn't smart enough to see them all. 

Six. 

The guard pressed a hand to Will's shoulder, readying to push him over onto his back. 

Seven.

Will's eyes snapped open.

The guard shuttered in surprise, his mouth falling open at Will's sudden movement. Not that he had much time to comprehend it. Will pushed himself onto his feet and with a lunge, he wrapped his hands around the guard's neck and snapped. Hannibal was already at the door, pushing the other guard back out of the room. Will grasped the fallen guard's gun and taser before pushing up onto the balls of his feet and following Hannibal out of the room. 

Hannibal had planned it perfectly. Shift change had just happened, based on how long it had been since the sunset and the time of year. It was still early spring, and the sun still set early. It was just about 8 at night when Will dropped to the floor. He tucked the gun into the waistband of his jumpsuit. He would have to be careful otherwise it would slide down the leg of his pants, and retrieving it would be difficult. But he didn't want to use it quite yet. It was a last resort and not something they could take with them. 

Hannibal sent the other guard flailing in his direction, but Will was prepared. The man stumbled over his feet as he moved backward, his arms reaching out for something to steady him when he fell into Will's grasp. And Will wasted no time. His hand fisted in the guard's hair and, using his weight, he threw the guard against the wall. The man's head impacted the concrete once, and then three times more until Will saw blood. He let the body drop with a satisfying thump onto the ground.

Hannibal was a few steps ahead of him, his amber eyes wide as he looked at Will. He moved to the other's side before they were walking swiftly and in sync through the hospital. Will knew this path all too well. It was embedded in his mind, into his very soul. It was the same path he took when Hannibal was being wheeled out behind him, wrapped in a straitjacket and that damned mask. Every step felt like a thousand then as they left the hospital and into the trap that Will had set for the FBI. With a little help. He often retraced this path in his dreams and every time, it led him to the doors of the Norman Chapel. 

There weren't many guards. The night was often accompanied by a skeleton crew. Only a few patients were ever rowdy at night, and that's where the bulk of the guards often were. Those patients were together in a wing of the hospital, which made it easier for the guards and nurses to watch, but much more dangerous if they ever escaped. There was always a guard at the front door, and one in the office. Strangely though, no one had raised the alarm yet. Probably because the guard in the control room had gone for the restroom. 

The next person they came across was a nurse who had worked there even when Will was in the hospital. He was a kind man who kept track of everyone's nightly mediations and had even sat with Will for a couple of the nights as he recovered from the encephalitis until Will fell asleep. 

Will didn't kill him. 

But the next guard wasn't as lucky. Hannibal snapped her neck with ease. They were almost to the front door.

But that wasn't their destination. 

In step, they rounded the corner that led to the office. 

The guard that was supposed to be in the office left the bathroom that was caddy corner to the office door. Hannibal lunged for him, making the guard's legs fall out from under him. He fell with his head between the door and the doorway. And Hannibal wasted no time using the door to his advantage. Will could hear the squelch of tissue and the snap of bone as the guard's skull was crushed, but he was far too busy opening the door to the office to look.

It was dark inside, with only the monitors for a source of light.

Will began pulling apart the taser, attacking the leads to the board that controlled the various doors within the building. Before he pulled the trigger though, he pressed the emergency button. It was designed to open all the cell doors and release everyone within in case of a fire or some other major emergency. It was still a treatment center, and while the patients were sequestered from society, their safety was still a priority. He watched just long enough to see the doors open, and the first few curious heads pop out, including Matthew Brown, before he pulled the trigger on the taser. The board was short-circuited, not enough to do any permanent damage, but enough that the system would be glitchy and prevent any emergency notices from being sent to the nearest police station.

For now.

They would find out eventually.

The monitors flickered and several of the faces on it were distorted. 

Will dropped the taser and turned, finding a guard with a gun pointed at Hannibal. 

He never told anyone what some of the numerous things were that he did during the three years he and Hannibal were apart. Most assumed he worked on boats and fished, and that was true. But it wasn't the only thing he did. 

He pulled the gun from his jumpsuit, raising it, and fired with ease. The guard dropped, a bullet between his eyes. 

He supposed now was as good a time as any for Hannibal to learn that he had improved his shoot skills since the day he killed Garret Jacob Hobbs.

He dropped the gun with a sigh, he wouldn't be needing it anymore. Hannibal looked at him with awe, his amber eyes filled with a combination of lust and love that was so powerful, Will felt the urge to drop to his knees. But now was not that time for that. Instead, he reached forward, taking the hand that was stretched out back toward him, and laced their fingers together once more. This was where he belonged.  

Together, the two of them ran back down the hall, hearing the clamoring of voices around them and the scuffle of bodies as everyone tried to make for the exit. 

The FBI and the Baltimore police would have their hands full with escaped patients, giving Will and Hannibal enough time to run. 

He picked a car from the parking lot, an older one without GPS. The car would still be found eventually, once its owner reported it stolen in the morning, but they wouldn't have the car by then. 

Thanks to his several years on boats, it was easy enough to hotwire the car just as a gunshot rang out through the air. 

Will and Hannibal both ducked, sharing conspiratorial glances as they dipped their heads below the headrests. Will pressed the gas, not waiting long enough for another shot to be fired before they peeled out of the parking lot, leaving the Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane in their rearview mirror.

Chapter Text

Will knew he was touch starved. He always had been. Hannibal had always given touches freely, so it didn't really surprise him when Hannibal reached over from the passenger's seat to grasp his hand, their fingers lacing together. What did surprise him though was the fact that Hannibal wasn't looking at him when he did that particular motion. He hadn't thought previously that Hannibal too, might be touch starved. But the more he thought, the more sense it made. Hannibal had spent three years in BSHCI without really being touched. Any touch he received was the glancing of fingers as he was strapped into a straitjacket. They hadn't touched much in the year between the cliff even though the two of them had been sharing the same space over that year. 

Meals, hunts, beds. They had been in each other's space for a year now, with touches given and received freely. 

But not like this. Not as intimate. That had only started in BSHCI and it was clear to Will that it wasn't going to stop now.

He didn't want it to stop. 

Will squeezed Hannibal's hand, their hands resting on the latter's leg. 

They had changed cars at one of Hannibal's safe houses. It didn't surprise him how many houses the other had. This one was in North Carolina, just out of reach of Quantico. It was unlikely that their escape had gone unnoticed for long. As a result, they had driven until the late hours of the night, finding Hannibal's house and abandoning the car a mile away. Hannibal had pulled up alongside the car, staring at him from the driver's seat as Will cleaned the car. It would be obvious who stole it, but he wasn't going to give the FBI any help on finding them. It was difficult changing in the passenger's seat, but he managed, finally out of the damned jumpsuit. 

That was 20 hours ago, and Will and Hannibal were still on the road. It was risky, choosing to drive to Florida rather than Canada, but the FBI would expect them to head north, so they went south. Will and Hannibal had taken turns driving, watching the terrain change as they navigated across the country. They had taken turns driving and sleeping, only stopping long enough to gas up the car and find food. Will was surprised at how well Hannibal was handling eating food not prepared by him, though he was certain Hannibal only barely stomached the McDonalds. 

This was one of the few times they were both awake together. Most of their day was spent either asleep or at the wheel or with one feeding the other while they drove.

Will's hand tightened on the steering wheel while his fingers flexed in Hannibal's grasp. 

Their drive would have been quicker, except they had to take detour after detour to avoid tolls. Stopping for gas was risky enough, but stopping for tolls was a guaranteed way to alert the FBI. Side routes took longer but they were safer and had fewer cameras. 

They had worn hats, even in the car, making certain that their faces were covered when coming up to traffic lights or at gas stations. It was often Will who would gas up the car, as Hannibal's features were much more distinct than his. People were more likely to remember Hannibal's cheekbones than they were the few curls that strayed out of Will's hat. When they slept, the blanket in the car served to cover their faces. Ultimately though, it meant they didn't often have the chance to see each other fully on what felt like the world's longest drive. 

Will eased on the gas as traffic slowed around them. 

It was evening, the rush home making traffic slow. 

He sighed, shifting his hand on the steering wheel again. The longer they were in the US, the antsier he was becoming. He wanted to be on open water already, heading out of the reach of Jack Crawford. But even that would be difficult. They would only have so long before any boat they took or rented was noticed and tracked. He knew they would have to find a low tech boat, but that would mean, just like the car, one of them would have to be at the wheel at all times. They still had cops between here, wherever they were, and the nearest pier. And then there was the Coast Guard. Given how long it had been since they escaped, their pictures might have been everywhere. 

But it was also equally as likely that they weren't. 

Will Graham and Hannibal Lecter were presumed dead. And the only people who knew they weren't were the FBI and Molly. It was risky telling local cops that they were still alive. Spouses talked to their spouses and Freddie Lounds had eyes and ears everywhere. It would be long before one person told another who told another who told Freddie and then the whole world would know they were alive once more. 

Hannibal's hand flexed in his. "You're thinking loudly." The other's thumb ran over his hand, raising gooseflesh in its wake. "Mind sharing?" 

"I don't like how long we've been here. We should be on a boat by now." His hand flexed in Hannibal's. "The longer we're here, the easier it is for the FBI to find us." 

"Caution takes time." 

Will wanted to snarl. Not at Hannibal, but just in general. "We don't have time." 

Hannibal raised Will's hand, pressing the back of it against his lips. Will shuddered slightly. "Relax." 

But Will's nerves were taut. He didn't know how Hannibal did it, how he was so calm when at any moment, they could be caught once more. Every muscle in his body felt as though at any moment they would snap. His teeth were grinding and his eyes ached with just how much he was watching every movement. Every cop car, every unmarked vehicle. They all caught his attention. He watched helicopters that flew overhead, watched anyone heading in the opposite direction who looked at them for too long. He hated this.

Hannibal did look over at him then, his amber eyes raking over the side of his face. He could see the way Hannibal's head tilted slightly, trying to see more of his face. Will dragged their joined hands over the console and onto his thigh, using the touch to anchor himself. 

He used to hate touch. Mostly because he needed it too much. Touch was terrible because eventually, it would be taken away. But not with Hannibal. Hannibal gave touch freely, and Will had fallen into that touch more than once. When Will's mind raged like the ocean in a storm, Hannibal was a mountain, still and steady. 

Strangely enough, Hannibal let go of his hand. Will didn't say anything, some part of him still feeling as though he wasn't worthy of such affection, when the other's hand began stroking up his arm and then his neck. He hummed feeling Hannibal's long fingers massage at the base of his neck and then his fingers twisted in Will's curls. He sighed at the touch, his hand on the wheel relaxing. 

Hannibal never worries. 

Will's voice from what felt like another lifetime ago echoed in his mind. He knew, even when he said it to Jack, that it wasn't true. Hannibal did worry. He worried for Will, for himself. But his worries were decreased significantly with Will at his side. Hannibal would have been content to stay in BSHCI with Will. But they wouldn't have stayed together. Will knew just how terrible that would be. When he and Hannibal weren't together, it felt as though he was missing a limb. It would shift and move without him being able to control it, stretching back toward him. They were conjoined, and being apart felt like a fate worse than death. 

"We should find a pier earlier. Not wait until Miami. There are more people, more cops. More chances to get caught." 

Hannibal didn't argue and Will took that as a sign of agreement. They would have to wait though, until after dark. Nothing could give them away. They had a head start, barely. The sooner they were on open water, the better.

Will drove in circles for two hours until the sun finally set. 

It was the first time they had truly stopped since escaping BSHCI. Will flexed his hand as he let go of the wheel, his knuckles aching from the tension in his hand. The other reached over, grasping his hand and pressing a kiss against his hand. 

"We can't stop," Will said quietly. "Once we leave the car, we have to find a boat and go." 

"I know." 

Will finally looked over at Hannibal, finding amber eyes seeking his own. He reached up, unable to stop himself from letting his fingers trace over Hannibal's cheekbone. The other leaned into his touch. He wanted so desperately to be close to him. The ache in his chest, the one reserved specifically for Hannibal, was back. Mostly because he knew there was no way to satiate it until they were in international waters. And maybe not even until Cuba. 

Home. 

Their home. The place they made together. 

"Why did you stand in front of the window?" 

Hannibal smiled sadly at him for a moment before it was the other's turn to reach up and brush a hand over his face. "I won't watch you die." 

Will wanted to bury himself in Hannibal. To claw open his chest and never leave. He wanted their hearts tied together. He wanted to drag the other close and keep him there forever, at his side. He shifted, the two of them leaning over the console, their lips brushing. He was shaking as he pulled back, wanting to stay there. 

"Here we go." He said quietly, before opening the door. 

The marina they were at was barely guarded, with nothing but a thin fence with holes and no cameras. The lighting was terrible, with the only lights over the dock flickering now and then. The whole place could use better upkeep and Will was glad it didn't have it. He trailed behind Hannibal, watching the one guard asleep at his post behind them. And the faces that kept flickering over his screen. 

The faces of Will Graham and Hannibal Lecter.

Will's hands kept fisting at his sides, the two of them looking at boat after boat.

He was worried. This was too easy. Their escape was too easy. Something was going to happen. 

The lights above them flickered and a crash echoed elsewhere. Will's eyes shot behind him, glad for the distance and low light and a seemingly heavily sleeping guard. 

Too easy. His mind screamed. Too easy.

"There, on the end," Will whispered over Hannibal's shoulder. 

The boat on the end was a sailboat. Low tech and without any visible GPS. Most of what they needed was already on the boat, the sails waiting to be drawn and ropes ready to be shifted and retied. He could see the engine on the back, for when the wind was too low to push the sails. Will kept himself behind Hannibal, blocking anyone from seeing him from behind. The other's eyes were focused ahead of them, looking around each boat and making certain they were alone. 

The hairs on the back of Will's neck stood on end. 

They were almost to the boat. 

"Get on," He said quietly as they reached the boat.

It wasn't very large, now that Will could see it up close. There was a small door that likely led to a bed. There wouldn't be a shower or anything fancy on board except for a small cooler that would likely hold the catch of the day. Will stayed on the dock, untying the boat. They would have to lower the engine, but they couldn't do that now while so close to other people's hearing. Hannibal opened the sails, and thankfully there was a small enough breeze that they could likely leave the pier, but they would need to row for a bit to truly be out on the open water. 

Will turned, looking back over the pier to check for witnesses. 

And was met with the security guard. 

"Little late to be out sailing." The guard said casually. 

Will didn't need to glance over his shoulder to know that Hannibal had ducked his head. 

"We want to see the stars," Will answered, forcing his voice to be cordial. "Hard to see in the city." He waved generally above them, watching the guard's eyes follow. 

"Light pollution," The guard said. "Not like the old days where you could see the stars." 

Will hummed, hearing the boat shift behind him. 

"You and your-" The guard looked around him. 

"Husband," Will said.

"Husband," The guard continued then glanced down to Will's hand. "Gonna be out long?" 

Will shrugged, folding his hands behind him and shuffling back slightly. Hannibal lowered the engine. They were caught, no need to sneak out now. Will just needed the guard to walk away. He tried to will it into existence, to force the guard to leave. 

"You look awfully familiar." The guard said finally. 

"I get that a lot," Will answered. "I look like some actor or another." 

He could almost hear Hannibal's protest. Hannibal would call him something else, probably an object of a Botticelli painting. But the other was quiet behind him, and hopefully careful enough to keep his head down. 

The guard shifted on his feet. 

He was going to go for his gun. Will backed up more. 

"Have a good night," He said to the guard. 

The guard chuckled. "I think I know where I've seen your face." 

He was moving slowly for his gun. Will's feet hit the boat. 

He hoped that he and Hannibal were conjoined just enough that Hannibal would understand it was time to turn on the engine. 

"You were in the news, right? Wanted by the FBI?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Will said, making certain to add just a dash of concern in his voice. 

The engine roared to life behind him.

There was a click and the guard removed his gun from his holster. "I'm afraid I can't let you go, sir." Will sighed. "I need you both to raise your hands slowly and come with me." 

"I'm afraid we can't do that." 

Will fell backward just as the engine hit the water. A gunshot rang through the air as Will's head collided with linoleum and his vision darkened. He felt Hannibal's body next to him as the engine vibrated through the boat and the flickering lights of the marina grew dimmer. 

Will was shaking, staring up at the sky above him. 

It was strange, the night sky. He thought. It hovered above him, the same sky in the daylight. It didn't care, didn't move. Didn't think. It only watched, like a massive blue eye that saw everything and did nothing. 

"Will?" Hannibal asked next to him. He rolled his head, finding the vague outline of Hannibal next to him. "Will, look at me, you're going to be all right." 

Of course, he was going to be all right. Why wouldn't he?

"Will?" Hannibal asked again, this time bringing his hand to Will's face. 

His hand was wet. 

"Stay with me," Hannibal whispered before he pressed his hand against Will's abdomen. 

He wanted to scream. 

It hurt. 

Why did it hurt?

"Stay with me." 

Chapter Text

Jack paced the office, his hands scrubbing over his tired face. Even an hour's drive a bucket of coffee didn't prepare him enough for the chaos he witnessed. The few guards and those they could call in managed to corral the patients back into their cells. Or, most of them anyway. The control board was still short-circuiting, with sparks flying here and there. The cameras flickered, distorting faces as guards patrolled the halls, attempting to calm patients. Two extra nurses were called as the normal night nurse was concussed and lying down with what he described as a "wicked headache." Five guards and one patient were dead with blood still smeared and doors and brains decorating walls. 

"All patients have been accounted for except five," Zeller said at Jack's right, dragging his attention away from the monitors.

"Who?" Jack knew at least two of them, but he had to hear it. 

"James Gumb, Lila Curie, Matthew Brown, and Will Graham and Hannibal Lecter." One of the guards said from Jack's left.

Price sighed. "We're waiting for DNA results, but we think the dead patient is Brown who was killed while trying to escape." 

"Any sign of Graham and Lecter?"

The guard next to him shook his head. "They stole a car from the parking lot."

"The guards gave us the vehicle's description and a partial plate. We're trying to trace the vehicle now." Zeller muttered. 

"They escaped two hours ago. They could be anywhere by now." Jack huffed. He should have expected this. Should have seen this coming from the moment they were placed in the same cell together. He expected them to escape the first night, and when they didn't some part of him thought that maybe they would be easier to control. Both seemed content when they were together, even after Jack told them that they would likely be split up again. That was likely the mistake that led down this path with five dead guards and a dead patient. 

It was a little ironic if the dead patient turned out to be Matthew Brown given that Brown had once tried to kill Hannibal for Will only to be locked in the same place he had once worked and eventually die during Will and Hannibal's escape. 

Jack nodded to the guard in front of him, sitting in a chair in front of the monitors. The guard rewound the footage until it stopped on Will standing in the cell he and Hannibal were sharing. After a moment's pause, the video began and ultimately ended with Will and Hannibal walking out of BSHCI hand in hand. 

Will Graham was lost. 

He had a choice, stay in BSHCI even after killing the guards even killing Hannibal with the gun he had at hand, or leaving at Hannibal's side. He chose the latter. All of Jack's hopes about Will being manipulated crumbled. Will was with Hannibal by choice, not because of manipulation. 

It felt like an eternity, though it had only been an hour of silence, as he watched the footage over and over, each time it became more and more clear that Will was lost to Hannibal and Hannibal appeared just as lost to Will. 

"Jack," Price said quietly. "We have a match. The dead patient is Matthew Brown." 

Ironic. 

"There's more," Zeller said. "Local PD found the car in North Carolina. It was wiped clean of prints." 

Jack took a deep breath. He had options to weigh. On one hand, the only people who knew Will and Hannibal were alive were all in the room and a few other guards, all of whom had signed NDAs and Molly. Jack knew Molly wouldn't say anything, but that didn't ensure her safety. The public would riot if they knew Will and Hannibal were still alive and at large. He scrubbed a hand over his face and let out a breath. On the other hand, it would be easier to catch them if multiple people were looking. The information would eventually make its way to Freddie Lounds and no one else could be trusted to stir up the public like she could. It was the very reason Jack had allowed her to sit in when they first reviewed the footage from the cliff house. No one but Freddie could have spun the story as well as she did, satiating the public after Hannibal's escape and making them believe that three birds were killed with one stone. 

Jack squared his shoulders, staring on the monitors for another moment before turning to Zeller at his side. 

"Put out an APB on Graham and Lecter. They are to be considered armed and extremely dangerous."


It was nearly a day later when more news floated Jack's direction. News he wasn't certain how to handle. 

"You're sure about this?" He asked, standing with his hands in his pockets in the lab at Quantico.

"I'm sure," Zeller said, turning the computer slightly to Jack could see. "Local PD tested it and sent us a sample to test too." Zeller gestured to the computer, which was split between a picture and lab results. "The blood on the boat is a match for Will Graham." 

Jack looked at the screen, studying the image. It was a small sailboat, probably well within Will's wheelhouse to navigate and work on. It had two sails and a small engine at the back. There was a small cooler and what looked like a door that possibly led to sleeping quarters, or what passed for one in a boat that small. It was mostly a fishing vessel, likely taken out for small day trips or even a late overnight trip to catch fish. It wasn't meant for long journeys. In the back of the boat was a pool of blood, not enough to have killed a person, but enough to know that someone was hurt. 

"The boat was found at a small marina. No security cameras and bad lighting. Perfect for a getaway. There was a security guard on duty, but his wife says he never came home last night. Three bullet casings were found at the scene, but no sign of the guard or Will and Hannibal. Another boat was stolen from the same marina, this one bigger. The GPS was ripped out and left on the pier. There's no way to track it." Most of this he already knew, but hearing it again as Price laid out the details solidified the story in his mind. 

"Hannibal can't have gone far," Jack said. 

"Hannibal?" Zeller asked, exchanging a look with Price. 

"If Will's blood is on that boat, then Will was likely shot by the night guard. He won't be doing any navigating. Hannibal probably took the guard and Will and vanished. But he wouldn't have gone too far with Will injured. He'd want to fix him."

"They could be halfway across the world by now. Hannibal could have an island all to himself for all we know." Price argued. 

Jack sighed. They slipped through his fingers once again. 

He turned on his heel, leaving the room. 

"Where are you going?" 

"Palermo," Jack answered. 

If Will was dead, Hannibal would find his way to Palermo. But if he wasn't, then Price was right. They could be anywhere in the world.

But there was only one way to find out.


Hannibal stirred the soup in front of him. It would be ready soon, not that Hannibal was ready for it. He placed the lid back on the pot and then moved slightly so he could press his hands to the counter, attempting to ground himself. The bones on the marble counter in front of him would have to be burned, but he couldn't care any less about them than he did right now. They were just there, white and hallow on the stone counter, having been drained of all their marrow which was currently in the soup. 

The kitchen was open, only a counter separating it from the living room and what could pass for a dining room. There was a small square table under a crystal chandelier with four chairs wooden chairs, one on each side. Not that all four chairs were ever used. Hannibal had always sat with his back to the kitchen, and Will to his right. Being a square, the table had no head and Hannibal found he liked it that way, with Will close at his side. The table currently only held a vase and some wilted flowers, left from the day they departed for Europe. The kitchen was neat and tidy, minus the bones. The stove was next to the kitchen sink with a counter on the other side. All counters in the kitchen were polished marble and every part of the kitchen apparel was stainless steel from the sink to the handles on the two ovens behind Hannibal on the left and the refrigerator which was behind Hannibal on the right. The cabinets were all wooden and filled with more cookware and plates than would ever be used. 

From where he was standing, he could see the living room and the white, leather furniture that decorated it. There was a stag's head on one of the walls that Hannibal often caught Will staring at. The couch faced the glass doors that overlooked the beach. The curtains were drawn back at the moment, filling the whole room with light. There was a small TV in the corner and a table beside the couch. Another chair sat just caddy corner to the couch, not that it was often used. Adjacent to the TV was a bookshelf with several series that the two of them had been working through since their arrival in Cuba. 

Hannibal liked this house. 

It was light and bright and open. There was a small entryway before the house opened into the living room and kitchen. Outside the glass doors led right to a wooden deck that fell off into the beach. The house was far enough away from other houses that he could easily walk outside naked and not be seen as he swam in the ocean. 

The walls that formed the kitchen and living room led to another series of rooms, one that functioned as an office that also had massive glass windows. Another one of the rooms was still empty. Both rooms framed the metal staircase that lead to the upper floor. 

There was another staircase, hidden, that lead to a cold basement where their house guest was currently staying, unconscious. 

The upstairs had three bedrooms, two bath rooms, and another office. The master was massive, with a bed that was even larger than the one he had at his home in Baltimore. Neither of the other two bedrooms were used. Their bedroom also had a deck which overlooked the ocean. The bathroom had a tub large enough that it could easily have accommodated the both of them, especially now that their relationship had taken a physical turn.

Assuming Will woke up. 

Hannibal pushed off the counter, making for the stairs. 

Will was currently lying in the center of their bed, unmoving except for his eyes behind the lids. 

Hannibal kicked off his loafers, placing them carefully next to the bed. The tile, despite the heat of Cuba, often was cold. He slipped into the bed next to Will, running his hand through the other's curls. Will didn't stir. 

Carefully, he checked the wound. He had done an excellent job with it and Will was incredibly lucky. The bullet had gone through him at an angle, seemingly missing any internal organs and exited out his back. It was likely only because Will had fallen back into the boat as the guard fired that the bullet had the path it did. 

The guard wasn't so lucky. 

He settled himself onto his side, shifting Will's arm so it was partially under him on Will's uninjured side. The other was breathing steadily, far better than he had been as Hannibal had patched him up on the boat. 

The injury wasn't the problem. It was the blood loss. But he was certain he had patched Will up quickly enough to avoid any major damage. 

If only Will would wake up. 

It was at times like this when he felt like a boy again. The same scared boy who built a castle around himself to keep from ever being hurt again. He hid, behind a person suit and excellent manors, behind the Chesapeake Ripper and Il Mostro de Firenze, behind the surgeon turned psychiatrist. But when he felt helpless, a rare occurrence for him, he felt like a scared little boy once again. The same little boy that was captured alongside his sister. The little boy who watched his sister die only to be fed her remains. The little boy who emerged mute and terrified. He was still terrified, even if he never showed it. Except to Will. 

He pushed himself closer to the other, nuzzling into the side of his neck, and inhaled. The scent that greeted him was distinctly Will and served to calm him, though barely. He hated fear. And he also hated that there was someone in his life that he loved so dearly, that he was afraid for them. He had done things out of self-preservation, and strangely enough with Will, it felt like self-preservation too. 

They were conjoined, as Will said. 

He placed his hand gently on the other side of Will's neck and shifted forward more. His lips brushed over Will's pulse point, partially seeking comfort and partially to remind himself that Will still had a pulse. 

He latched on, sucking at the skin there gently. Hannibal could feel Will's pulse thrumming under his lips.


Will was floating down a stream. He could hear the water trickling around him, feel it shifting and pulsing and dragging his body along with it. He didn't quite know where he was going, only that he was floating. 

The sun shone above him and the trees on either side of the stream swayed slightly in the breeze, leaves rustling. Normally, when he was in this stream, he was fishing. But not this time. Instead, he was just lying on his back, letting the slow current take him wherever it pleased. 

That was until he heard rustling next to him on the bank. 

There was a clop, like the sound of a hoof, and as he turned his head, he was greeted with a stag. The stag's dark eyes stared into his, the feathers adorning its dark hide shifting in the breeze slightly. The stream began to drag Will away, but he didn't want to leave. 

And clearly the stag didn't want him to either. 

A haunting high pitched noise echoed across the stream and before he knew it, the stag's teeth clamped around his shirt. He was being hauled from the stream, which had somehow turned into a waterfall. The stag didn't stop tugging once he was on the bank though. Instead, it hauled up back up against the current to where the stream started.

The doors of the Norman Chapel. 

The doors swung open on their approach as the stag dragged him inside before finally letting him go, depositing him just in front of the altar. He looked away from the stag for a moment, looking around the chapel, and when he looked back, he was not only on the altar, but next to him stood the stag man. His skin was oily black, and his eyes were as blank and lifeless as usual. His antlers stretched upward, twisting toward the painted ceiling. 

It was Hannibal. 

He wanted to coax the other forward, but his voice didn't work. Though it seemed Hannibal knew anyway, as the man approached and eventually joined him on the altar, lying with Will's arm wrapped around and under him. The other's long fingers run over his abdomen and he winced. The other's hand didn't stay there long, instead moving up to the side of his neck. Even though the other didn't have eyes that Will could distinguish perfectly, he still knew the other was searching his face. 

The other shifted closer, and Will felt soft lips against his neck, just as equally soft antlers brushed his face. The other's lips latched onto his neck and Will hummed. 

You know that's not the part of me you'd prefer. He wanted to say. But he couldn't force his voice to work. 

Hannibal.

Hannibal. 

He tried to talk to the other. To call out to him. 

Hannibal.


"Hannibal." 

Chapter Text

"Hannibal." Will's voice sunk into Hannibal's brain like it was the world's most addictive drug. He shifted himself, releasing Will's neck to look up into his face. Will's eyes were still closed as he turned his head slowly in Hannibal's direction. "I can think of other uses for that silver tongue of yours." 

A smile pulled at Hannibal's lips as he shifted himself up the bed more, pressing his lips to Will's. The hand that was pressed against his lower back pressed harder, and Will's other hand moved toward his face, wincing as he did. Will's hand did eventually cup his face. His fingers massaged lightly at the back of Hannibal's head as their lips met over and over. He readjusted, careful not to jostle Will too much as he moved his other hand under the back of the other's head to hold him closer. Will's fingers flexed over his lower back before he pressed closer. Hannibal didn't even have to ask, verbally or otherwise, for access when Will opened his mouth, their tongues brushing lightly. Hannibal took his opportunity to explore the other's mouth, his tongue even running over the thin scar inside Will's cheek. 

Will shifted after a moment, and Hannibal pulled away to press a kiss against his cheek. 

"You wake up and the first thing you do is flirt with me." Hannibal teased lightly. 

"Yes." Will paused. "You could have at least gone after the other side of my neck. Evened me out a little." 

Hannibal huffed out a laugh, pressing a kiss to the other side of Will's neck. Will was right though. Both marks that Hannibal had left, the one in BSHCI and the one now were on the same side. Will pressed a kiss to his cheek before huffing lightly in pain. 

"What happened? After I got shot?" Hannibal pulled back slightly, looking down at Will. "Are we home?" 

"Yes," Hannibal answered softly. 

Will shifted slightly, looking down at his gunshot wound and the patch. Hannibal moved downward, pressing a kiss just over the bandage. Despite how beautiful Will was in pain, he wouldn't cause him more pain. Not now. 

There was a beep downstairs, returning Hannibal's attention to the kitchen and the soup he left cooking while he came to check on Will. 

"What's for lunch?" Will asked, looking toward the door. 

"Never ask," Hannibal responded, shifting back upward. "It spoils the surprise." He whispered against Will's lips. 

Will's lips twitched and Hannibal moved off the bed, offering his hand to the other. Will took it, shifting on the bed and wincing as he did. He helped the other steady himself as he sat up, his legs dropping off the side of the bed. Neither let go of the other's hand as Will pulled himself upward. He swayed slightly as he stood. His brilliant ocean eyes flicked up to Hannibal's for a moment, letting out a breath as he did. 

"Don't worry," Hannibal reassured. "I won't let you fall." 

"I know." 

Instead of walking toward the door, Will moved closer to him, wrapping an arm around his waist. Hannibal pulled him closer, wary of his injury, but increasing the contact nonetheless. Will sighed and settled against him, his head resting on Hannibal's shoulder. Will rarely ever sought comfort from Hannibal, it was always Hannibal taking or giving it of his own volition, never really the other way around. Except twice before. The first time was in Florence when Will pressed against his shoulder. And the second was after the Dragon. Not that they had exactly explored a physical aspect of their relationship before BSHCI. There wasn't much in which they needed to seek comfort in each other until then. 

Will's lips were soft as they pressed against the side of his neck. Then he pulled back slightly, raising Hannibal's hand and pressing a kiss to his knuckles. 

"Bathroom first, then food." 

Hannibal didn't let him go as he guided Will to the bathroom, only leaving long enough for Will to have some privacy and returned when the other was done washing his hands. Will was looking in the mirror when he entered the room, his head turned slightly to see the dual marks on his neck. His eyes met Hannibal's in the mirror before he turned, taking the hand Hannibal stretched out toward him. Will stepped closer and together, they walked toward the stairs slowly. 

Will sucked in a breath at the edge of the stairs, readying himself to move down them when Hannibal lunged, grasping the other in his arms and hauling him up. Will let out a surprised noise, his arms scrambling around Hannibal's neck. 

"I could have walked," He huffed as Hannibal carried him down the stairs. 

"I know." 

Will rolled his eyes but didn't protest. Hannibal set him down at the bottom of the stairs before helping the other to the table. Will grunted slightly as he sat down and Hannibal was glad for his foresight of putting a pillow on the chair to make it easier for him to sit on. He moved to the kitchen after that, pulling down bowls and dishing out the soup. He would have to burn the bones. eventually, but for now, he left them in a pile on the counter. He moved the soup off the stovetop and covered it. Will waited patiently as Hannibal neared, bringing the bowls and setting them down on the table. 

Will's eyes flashed and his lips quirked upward as he looked from the soup back up to Hannibal. "You made me soup." 

Hannibal's lips twitched, his mind sent back years before most likely like Will's to another time when he made soup for the other. "Yes." 

He shifted his chair closer, lifting the spoon he brought for Will and taking a spoonful of the soup. 

"You know I can feed myself. My arms aren't tied down this time." 

"I know." 

"But you insist on feeding me anyway," Will leaned forward when the soup was offered to him, slurping it slightly. "Tastes better this time." 

Hannibal chuckled to himself. "The key is a good broth." 

"Bone broth?" Will guessed. 

"Marrow." 

Will hummed, taking the spoon from Hannibal. "Eat." He pointed with his spoon at Hannibal's own ignored meal. 

The meal passed slowly and quietly, as Will took a little while to finish his food. Hannibal wasn't certain he would, but he did eventually, and then followed Hannibal into the kitchen when the meal was over, watching from against the counter as Hannibal did the dishes and eventually put away the rest of the soup. He had made enough to last a while, given Will's condition, he would need lighter foods. He put away the last dish, watching Will sway lightly against the counter. 

"I don't want to go up to bed," He said quietly as Hannibal approached, practically reading his mind. "I've been asleep all day. Maybe longer. I want to stay down here for a bit." 

Hannibal nodded, moving closer to the other to steady him. Will's hands rested on his hips. "What do you want to do then?" 

Will pushed off the counter, wincing and swaying lightly before he pulled Hannibal along behind him, moving them toward the couch. Hannibal followed him, not like that was much of a surprise. He would have followed Will anywhere. But this anywhere just let to the couch with Will pushing Hannibal onto it and jerking his head to gesture for him to prop up his legs. Hannibal shifted, moving one leg onto the couch but keeping the other on the floor. He knew what Will wanted. Will's lips twitched slightly before he lowered himself carefully onto the couch, pressing his back against Hannibal's chest. He brought up his other leg, framing Will's body. Their fingers laced together on Will's chest while his other hand began petting through the other's curls. 

"Do you remember the first month we were here?" 

Of course, he remembered, but he was curious to hear the experience through Will's eyes. 

"We had leftover fish from the boat and that's all we ate." Will's other hand began absentmindedly tracing patterns of his thigh. "I still remember the two of us limping down the stairs. One step at a time." Will chuckled slightly. "We ran out of spices after that first month and had the blandest meal ever." Hannibal remembered that. Neither of them had been in the condition to leave the house before they ran out of spices, making them unable to stock up on more. "And yet somehow, it was still one of the best meals I've had. 

"My dad and I had bland meals too."

"It reminded you of simpler times," Hannibal said quietly. 

"No," Will sighed, leaning his head back and more into Hannibal's touch. "It felt like home." He heard the other take in a deep breath, feeling the way Will relaxed against him on his exhale. "Tell me something. Read me a book. Speak in a different language, I don't care." Will's fingers flexed in his hand. "I just want to hear your voice." 

Idly Hannibal wondered how much pain Will was in if he was asking for something for himself. But he was more than happy to oblige. So, he told him the only thing that came to the forefront of his mind. He told him about the Trojan War and Achilles and Patroclus. As he spoke, Will's head turn, nudging into his hand, not that he had stopped running his fingers through the other's curls. Eventually, the hand that was tracing patterns on his thigh stopped, settling just above his knee. Not long after that, Will's breathing evened out, and Will's fingers in his own relaxed. 

He was certain the other had fallen asleep when Will shifted slightly. "Don't stop." 

He continued, feeling the way Will's body relaxed against his own. After a while, the sun as the sun began to dip lower in the sky, Will's breathing was deeper and slower. He was asleep. Hannibal very carefully shifted himself to move off the couch. Will fell back on the couch slowly, his eyes shut and moving behind the lids. Hannibal pressed a kiss against his forehead before he shifted his arms under the other's body, lifting him. Will was dead weight in his arms, not that it was the first time. He carried Will from Muskrat Farm when the other was unconscious and he carried Will from the boat, the other's weight familiar in his arms. 

He laid Will down in the bed, pulling the blanket up over his legs. From there, he moved into the bathroom, opening the medicine cabinet to grasp the morphine he kept. He was careful when he measured a dose, enough to ease Will's pain but not enough to do any harm. The feeling of sliding the needle into Will's arm was all too familiar but by the time Hannibal returned to the bed, the tension in Will's face eased. 

He slid into the bed next to him, settling on his side. Will didn't move, but he whimpered when Hannibal went to move away. So, instead, he curled up at Will's side, pulling the other closer so his head was pillowed on Hannibal's arm, and fell asleep next to him. 

Chapter Text

Will woke the next morning with a slight headache and an empty bed. Hannibal hadn't been gone long, judging by the ache in his arm and the warmth in the bed next to him. As if on cue, he heard a shuffling in the bathroom. Will shifted himself in the bed as other noises echoed and then the door opened, revealing a strangely rumpled Hannibal. His hair was falling across his face and into his eyes and the sleep pants he wore were wrinkled. It was a surprisingly sweet look on him and almost made Will forgive him for what he was certain was morphine.

Almost. 

"You're awake," Hannibal said, nearing the bed. 

"I wanted your voice, not pain killers." 

He wasn't surprised when guilt didn't flash over the other's face, but instead a rather small smug smile that vanished as quickly as it came.

"You were in pain." 

Will decided not to argue. Instead, he shifted himself on the bed, trying to push upward. Hannibal was around the bed in an instant, offering a steadying hand as Will pushed himself upward. The other stayed close, their hands clasped together as Will stood. The pain still made him dizzy, though he supposed he could be forgiven considering it was only a few days since he was shot. Hannibal was also clearly dizzy from pain when he was shot too, and it was part of the reason the two of them had continued sleeping in the same bed once they arrived in Cuba. The two of them had spent more than enough time in each other's space, propping each other up even on trips to the bathroom. Nothing they had was unknown to the other. There were even a few days went the two of them couldn't muster enough energy to move downstairs to eat. So, instead, they lied in bed, not touching, but together and drifting in and out of sleep. 

Will stumbled slightly, stepping wrong and causing pain to shot through him like a bolt of electricity. Hannibal caught him immediately, searching Will's face urgently. 

Hannibal was always a reserved person, but Will knew how to read his face. Even when he tried to hide his emotions from himself. So Will knew the concern that greeted him from behind those warm, amber eyes. He wondered if Hannibal let himself feel everything since Will was shot, or if he shoved it all behind a wall to deal with another time. Hannibal was good at that, so was Will.

He let Hannibal move closer as he navigated across their bedroom to the bathroom. Hannibal left him as he went about his business, eventually splashing water over his face. He would have to shower soon, and that would be difficult with the gunshot wound. He and Hannibal had basically bathed in the sink following their injuries with the Dragon until Hannibal deemed it ok to remove their stitches. He was certain Hannibal took too much pleasure in washing his hair. 

They had brought in one of the chairs from the balcony and leaned it against the sink. Hannibal insisted on washing Will's hair first and then watched Will closely when it was his turn. 

He should have kissed him then. Or any of the other times they were in such a close space. He should have crossed the boundary of their bed. Hannibal should have too. 

Better late than never he supposed. 

Hannibal opened up the door, likely due to the lack of noise on Will's end. Will's hands tightened on the counter before he jerked his head, beckoning Hannibal closer. The other neared, letting Will lean his weight against him. 

"Breakfast first," Hannibal said, likely sensing his train of thought. 

"That nose of yours can tolerate me for longer?" Will joked only for Hannibal to turn and bury his face in Will's neck. 

He heard the other inhale and he shuddered slightly, especially when Hannibal's lips brushed over his neck. "I think you mean, I delight." 

Will wanted to push him away, seeing Hannibal's playful smirk as he pulled away. Amazing how much of their past pain was meaningless now. Nothing more than a joke. A preamble. For this. 

They ventured toward the stairs, Will leaning on Hannibal. He knew the other would most likely pick him up again, but he waved him off before he ever had the chance. Instead, he grasped the metal railing, gripping Hannibal probably too tightly with the other hand, and began the descent one step at a time. He was careful and it was a slow process, most of it spent with Hannibal ready to pick him up the moment his legs seemed the slightest bit unsteady, but he made it. Hannibal deposited him on the couch and then began rattling around the kitchen, pulling out pots and pans and opening and closing the refrigerator. 

Will forced himself up after a while and moved to one of the chairs that were on the other side of the counter in the kitchen. 

Hannibal looked up at him as he settled himself, leaning on the counter to watch the other cook. 

"Protein scramble?" Will asked, watching the eggs cook. 

"A light one for you. Mostly eggs and sausage." 

The sausage caught Will's attention and he glanced back out of the kitchen and toward the door he knew led to the basement. He wondered who Hannibal had down there, and when exactly Hannibal caught this specific pig. He was working his way through them intently. The marrow soup, the sausage. He doubted this pig was still alive, give that sausage was normally made from intestines, but Frederick Chilton could attest to the fact that not all of one's intestines were needed to live.

Hannibal likely wouldn't have left while Will was unconscious to find someone. 

Which only left one person. 

The guard. 

He doubted Hannibal took the sailboat to take them back to Cuba given how slow that would be. The other didn't answer when Will asked what happened, though he was putting together the pieces for himself. Hannibal had gone after the guard after Will was shot, taking him and a faster boat to bring all three of them to Cuba. 

Hannibal plated the food, carrying them to the table. Will slid from his chair, watched carefully by Hannibal until he dropped into the chair at the table, the food steaming in front of him. 

He remembered the first time Hannibal made a protein scramble for him, likely from Cassie Boyle. He never had verbal confirmation on that, but he could guess and guess accurately enough. 

Just keep it professional. 

Or we could socialize like adults. God forbid we become friendly. 

Will smirked to himself. They were far beyond friendly now. He remembered answering the door to his motel room in a sweat-soaked t-shirt and briefs. Neither of them was wearing shirts now. Hannibal, despite the warmth of the climate, was in a pair of pajama pants and Will in a pair of shorts. He could see Hannibal's bullet wound, healed and now only a round scar on his abdomen and his back where it entered. 

His fork paused halfway to his mouth as he looked more closely at Hannibal. 

"Something on your mind Will?" 

The table was small enough that Will could reach without much trouble to brush his fingers over the scar on Hannibal's abdomen. "Same side." 

Hannibal's eyes dropped to Will's wound and then back to his face. A million emotions ran behind those amber eyes, but instead the other only nodded, uncharacteristically silent. He let it be for a moment, but he wouldn't let it be for long. They finished their breakfast and as Hannibal did the dishes, Will moved into the kitchen, watching him as he did the day before.

"Hannibal," He said quietly as the other folded the towel back over the faucet, the dishes put away and the meal cleaned up. "Talk to me." 

"You're very determined to break down all my walls," Hannibal observed not looking at him.

"You broke down my walls. I've climbed over yours, weaving between them and over them. Let me past this last one." 

Hannibal turned around, leaning against the counter and bracing himself. Their eyes met and Will saw. The fear, the sadness, the worry, the relief. All of it ran over him like a freight train and then Hannibal was moving. The other wasn't gentle as he crashed into Will, pushing him back into the refrigerator and attacking his mouth with fervor. Will winced slightly as his back collided with the cold metal behind him and then Hannibal's arms were around him. 

Will was going to drown in him, and quite happily. 

His arms wrapped around the other, seemingly spurring on Hannibal's assault. The other shifted, sinking his teeth into the other side of Will's neck, biting and sucking another bruise. Claiming what was already his again, just to know that Will belonged to him. He could feel the heat of Hannibal's skin, the way his pulse sped up under Will's touch as he pushed one of his hands into the other's hair. He felt Hannibal's teeth in his neck, the way they were angled, and how sharp they were as his jaw flexed, pressing them into Will's skin. And then Hannibal's tongue, soothing over the bite. He didn't break skin, didn't make Will bleed. But he certainly marked him. 

After a moment, the other shifted his grip, lifting Will and walking them through the room. Will didn't even have time to adjust his legs before they were falling onto the couch. Hannibal was under him, the other careful to adjust himself to that there wasn't direct pressure on Will's wound. 

Hannibal's hands splayed over his back, pressing them together. He let go of Will's neck to find his lips once more. 

"You stood in front of the guard," Hannibal muttered against his lips accusingly. 

"You stood in front of the window." Will accused back. 

"I told you-" Hannibal began, but Will cut him off. 

"You won't watch me die. And I won't watch you die." Hannibal looked up at him, his eyes filled with so much love it made Will's heart ache. "We either live together or we die together. I won't live in a world without you in it." 

Actually saying the words this time felt like a weight was lifted off his chest. 

"I love you," Hannibal said softly, cupping the side of Will's face, staring at him adoringly. 

"I love you too." 

Their lips met again, softer this time, but with no less emotion. Will let his weight shift slightly, pressing himself more against Hannibal under him. Strangely enough, it was such a familiar feeling, even though they hadn't been exactly like this before. Will had tucked Hannibal under him in BSHCI, his weight pressed against the other's body. But even then there had been an audience and layers of clothing between them. Now, with Hannibal's skin against his, feeling every way he twitched as he moved his hand from Will's face into hair, the heat of his hand against Will's back. It felt closer.

Intimate.

He shifted himself to bury an arm under Hannibal's body. The other let out a noise that was half snarl and half groan as his grip on Will's hair tightened. 

Their lips moved in sync, tongues meeting and exploring. Every breath he took felt as though it was pulled directly from Hannibal's lungs. Hannibal tugged at his bottom lip for a moment, sucking at it before letting it go with a soft pop, and then they were back at each other again. 

He felt the way Hannibal tugged him closer, attempting to cradle Will against him. He could feel Hannibal's loose hair brush across his forehead. His free hand moved into the other's hair feeling every strand that feel through his fingers. Hannibal's mouth drifted away, pressing kisses against his shoulder, over the stab wound. It was Will's turn now to bury his face in Hannibal's neck, and he wasted no time doing so and sinking his teeth into Hannibal's neck. Hannibal groaned and pressed more against the back of Will's head, holding him place. 

Will sucked a mark into the other's neck before Hannibal's lips pulled away from his shoulder, seeking his own once more. 

The other's hand began massaging over his back, stroking up and down his spine and raising gooseflesh in his wake. 

Will was lost, floating somewhere outside his own body but still wrapped completely in Hannibal. 

The two of them somehow managed to roll onto their sides, with the pressure off Will's injury. Their hands found each other's, fingers tangling together. His other hand was functioning as Hannibal's pillow and vice versa. His thigh slipped between Will's legs, the two of them shifting yet again to press growing erections against the other for some form of relief. 

He hadn't truly had a make out session since college. He forgot how hard it was to stop. Especially given how much Hannibal didn't want to stop too. 

He didn't know how long they were there, lost each other, mouths finding the other's and then brushing over warm skin before returning again. He could feel the way Hannibal's fingers deftly pushed the right buttons, finding places he didn't even know he liked to be touched. His hips, his lower back. The way he couldn't help but shudder when Hannibal's fingers trailed lightly over his arm. Hannibal seemed to be just as affected, as Will learned the other's body. But neither reached lower than the waist line, except for where their legs pressed against the other's erection. 

But he couldn't stop his hips from grinding slightly when Hannibal twitched. 

And he couldn't stop the moan that echoed from his chest when Hannibal sucked another mark onto his collar bone. His teeth sunk into the other's shoulder, eliciting a moan from him. 

They were both breathing heavily when Will drew back slightly, mostly bring himself back down to earth. He was greeted by Hannibal, searching his face carefully to make certain he hadn't overstepped. Will leaned forward slightly, brushing his nose against Hannibal's and feeling, more than seeing, the way the other's lips quirked. 

"Are you mad at me?" Will asked quietly, returning them to their earlier conversation. 

Hannibal let go of Will's hand, using it to stroke his face and push some stray curls back. "No. I suppose you did warn me that you would do it." 

Will had. In the car, before they ever left. He asked Hannibal why he stood between him and the window, when it was his plan all along to stand between Hannibal and the rest of the world. 

"I love you, Will Graham. Even when you surprise me or do something like standing between me and a gun." 

"You stood between me and a gun." Will answered. "It's one of the reasons I love you too, Hannibal Lecter." 

Hannibal's eyes shimmered for a second and as Will leaned in for another kiss, he felt a tear drop on his cheek. Hannibal loved him. And he loved Hannibal. 

After a moment, he broke away to settle himself more into the couch, wrapping Hannibal in his arms and the other pressing him closer. Now and then, they would shift, a silent request for a kiss. 

When they finally broke apart, remembering their original intentions to clean themselves up, he saw that their whole detour to the couch lasted over three hours. But that didn't matter when Hannibal scooped him up into his arms, carrying him up the stairs. 

Chapter Text

Hannibal was floating. The morning sun was bright and shining behind his eyelids, not that he truly cared. He could hear the ocean moving around him as he floated on the surface and when he let his ears fall under the water, he could hear his own breathing and the sound of his heartbeat, pulsing in his ears. The ocean was calm around him, gently swaying him with wave after wave that went by. He sucked in a breath, breathing in the smell of the ocean. He had always enjoyed swimming as a workout and being near the ocean gave his daily swim and extra challenge. Swimming in a still pool was one thing, swimming against the ocean current was another. He never went far, but it was especially nice in the mornings to enter the water. It was also nice given that Will was a furnace and Hannibal had never woken up sweating until the nights he spent with Will plastered against his side. The ocean was cool after that. 

Not that Hannibal minded. He was well aware of Will's nightly habits. 

The first few weeks had been the worst. Will woke up in terror and drenched in sweat quite often. They had barely left the bed in those first weeks, both injured and genuinely exhausted. Though it calmed something within Hannibal to know that Will was at his side, even if the other kept to the other side of the bed. After about two months, when they could walk around and generally had better range of motion, Will's nightmares stopped. Or at least, stopped waking him up. Sometimes, Hannibal was certain that the reason Will's eyes flew behind the lids was due to a nightmare, but it never seemed to affect him. 

Now, though, Will barely ever twitched at night as slept plastered to Hannibal's side. Will only ever moved when he moved and mostly that was just to shift their positions. Hannibal would fall asleep to Will pressed against him and woke with Will pressed against him. The other would still sweat at night, but Hannibal didn't mind. 

It had been a month since they arrived back in Cuba and it strangely mirrored their first month in Cuba. Will's range of motion was limited, so often Hannibal found himself compelled to carry the other around. He knew Will must hate it, but Hannibal was quite pleased. The ability to tuck Will against him was something he didn't take for granted. He cherished every moment of it. Will could move around better on his own now, but Hannibal remembered exactly how the gunshot wound felt for him. He knew Will would have some trouble still bending over, even if he could walk and generally move well. 

Hannibal adjusted himself, taking a breath and twisting to swim back toward the shore. When he was close enough to stand, he did, wading forward toward Will who was sitting on the beach. He didn't know when exactly Will had started watching him during his morning swims, though it was certainly after their most interesting night in Cuba. 

They had been back for two weeks when both were woken by a massive crash downstairs. Will had been tucked against him, his back against Hannibal's chest, so it was far too easy for Hannibal to pull him closer protectively, which made the monster within him purr with satisfaction. The crash was quickly followed by the sound of soft tapping and a loud thud at their bedroom door. Hannibal stood, readying himself for what he thought might be an intruder. 

He was partially right. 

The moment the door opened, their furry intruder burst into the room making for the bed with his tail wagging and happily panting. 

Will could barely speak as Hannibal moved back toward the bed and turned on the light to see Will covered by a very happy dog. A dog that Hannibal recognized. Winston. 

"Good boy," Will said over and over, petting the dog who was squirming happily on his lap. It was one of the few times Hannibal had seen him smile so much. He didn't even appear to care that the dog had likely caused him pain at his sudden attack. 

As Hannibal neared, he could see the note tied around Winston's neck with a single word. 

Sorry. 

"Chiyoh," Will said as he finally managed to calm Winston down enough that the dog was lying against him, happily thumping his tail. 

"It would appear so." 

Will's eyes had flicked up to him then, and he knew he wasn't fooling him. 

"It was you. She contacted you." Will guessed, accurately. "And you asked her for this." He pulled the blanket back, opening a space for Hannibal next to him. 

Hannibal returned to the bed, satisfied that there was no one coming to take Will away from him. The other pulled him closer, stroking his cheek lightly. 

Now, Winston was lying calmly on the blanket next to Will, both of them waiting for Hannibal to come to shore. Winston had taken to him surprisingly well and once Hannibal even woke to find himself sandwiched between Will and Winston. Or well, not so much sandwiched as much as Will had plastered himself over Hannibal's body and Winston was pillowed on his arm. He could see Will's face shift as he looked up at Hannibal, his arms draped over his knees and bare feet dug into the sand. He continued through the water until he was on the shore, accepting the towel that Will offered. 

The other still had a strange, fond look on his face as Hannibal toweled himself off. 

"Something on your mind, Will?" 

The other reached up and Hannibal expected that it was to ask for help to stand, but when their hands grasped, Will tugged him downward. Winston shifted at their sides but didn't seem to care as Hannibal found himself on top of Will, his towel abandoned. Will's arms looped around him as he sighed. 

"Do you remember what I told you about my house at night?" 

Of course, Hannibal remembered. He remembered everything. 

"You said you would turn the lights on and walk away, seeing your house in the distance, floating on water. It felt safe." 

"I saw you, out there on the water." 

Will didn't need to explain further. Hannibal knew exactly where he was going. He shifted himself to put less pressure on Will's side before he dipped his head, their lips meeting. He shifted so Will could pillow his head on Hannibal's arm. Will sighed into the kiss, his body relaxing every second they were this close. It seemed to be easier for Will now, expressing his emotions. Relaxing. At least with Hannibal. Not that either of them really saw anyone else. Hannibal was inherently more social than Will, but he had been satisfied with keeping more to himself, as long as he had Will at his side. 

Not that he didn't show off Will every chance he had. 

He sat up, pulling Will up with him. "I love you," He whispered as Will practically crawled into his lap. 

"I love you too." 

Hannibal honestly wasn't expecting the jolt of arousal that coursed through his body as Will settled onto his lap. He could feel every muscle in the other's body as it moved, his legs settled on either side of Hannibal's hips. They hadn't explored this aspect of their relationship, and he wouldn't push Will that direction. He wanted it, oh god did he want it. He wanted Will. In any form he could have him. And if Will didn't want sex, he was content to live his whole life without it ever again. 

That was until he felt something press against him as Will rocked forward lightly. 

So that was the mood Will had woken up in this morning. He had known from the moment the other woke that there was something, but unlike in the past, he didn't push. Because he knew Will would tell him. Just as he would tell Will anything. 

But he also knew that Will wasn't asking for sex. Not right now. He just wanted to be close. To feel safe. And to make Hannibal feel safe in return. He buried his face in Will's neck, feeling the way the other pressed him closer at the action. Hannibal did feel safe in Will's arms. He felt loved and protected. And more alive than he had ever felt in his life. He was nourished, satisfied, and so wholly in love. 

"Breakfast," Will said quietly. 

He knew Hannibal too well. 

Their tenant was no longer with them. He had provided meals for men and dog alike and what little of him that remained unused was long gone. He and Will would hunt again, once Will was strong enough. But that didn't mean they were lacking in food. Hannibal prepared breakfast for the humans while Will at his side prepared the breakfast for their dog. One dog, though, wouldn't be enough. Hannibal had seen one while out and about. Will deserved more dogs. 

What had happened to him? 

They ate breakfast before Hannibal found some excuse to leave. Even though his past self might have never wanted to share a space with a dog, let alone multiple, he would for Will. It should worry him to some degree that he had fallen so far for Will, but he was content to fall. As he had the first time and the second time and even physically. He would fall forever if meant he had Will Graham. 

He returned, hours later, with not one but two gifts in hand to find that he wasn't the only one who had felt. Waiting for him on the counter was a bottle of wine. 

The same bottle he had never had a chance to drink. 

The night Will brought him the wine, Hannibal had wanted so desperately for him to stay. He had felt his face fall as Will left, citing a date with the Chesapeake Ripper as a way to escape the dinner he was invited to. He wished that his party was another night. He had wished so desperately to tell Will everything, because ultimately Will knew it already. He never lied emotionally, especially not when it came to Will. He didn't open the wine that night, instead, he saved it. So many times he wanted to open the wine, but after Will's betrayal became evident, he moved it to the cliff house and waited. He only ever opened the bottle that night. Only Will had a chance to taste it. 

What a tragic waste of wine. 

Here was their second chance. 

The puppy in his arms barked and squirmed, first drawing the attention of Winston as Hannibal set down the preparations for their evening meal, and then Will. The book he had been reading fell from his hands and onto the floor with a loud slap. Hannibal didn't have time to adjust her to offer her to Will before Will was barreling into him. Winston danced around their legs as Hannibal was first accosted with a kiss before Will's attention drifted to the puppy in his arms. Will didn't bother taking her from Hannibal's grasp, instead scratching at her ear while her tail thumped Hannibal's side happily. 

"I thought we could name her Encephalitis," Hannibal said. 

Will's eyes were damned near predatory as he looked back up at Hannibal. He barely had a chance to set the puppy down to meet her brother when Will was on him, pressing him into the counter. He had truly forgotten how all-consuming Will was when he felt well enough. Hannibal wanted nothing more than to drown in him. To be pulled from that cliff over and over. To be subject to his cruel kisses and fiery passion until he was burned alive. 

But not here. Not now. 

He wanted Will. But not like this. He didn't want this to begin merely out of frenzied passion. And he knew Will didn't either. 

The other pulled back after a moment and Hannibal felt the overwhelming urge to press a soft kiss against the other's nose. He wasn't one to deny himself and the result was a rather beautiful blush. 

"I'll prepare dinner." He brushed a curl back from Will's face as they heard their puppy yap. 

Dinner was a quiet affair. Hannibal didn't pour the wine, not yet. It was really more of a half-lunch, half-dinner meal given that neither of them had eaten since breakfast. But the wine would be better paired with dessert. It was rare that either of them ever dressed up for a meal, but it appeared Will sensed his ultimate want for the dinner to be special and he had already dressed as Hannibal entered their bedroom. But just because dinner had been quiet did not mean that the air between him and Will to his right hadn't been charged. 

After dinner, he and Will did the dishes side by side, fingers brushing often and frequently and so much so that Hannibal found himself desperately wanting to pull Will into his arms. 

As it turned out, he wasn't the only one with that desire. 

The other settled both dogs into the living room as Hannibal started dessert and set it in the oven to cook. Just as he stepped out of the kitchen, music echoed through the living room. 

"You don't dance," Hannibal said, as he scooped Will into his arms. 

"No," Will answered. "But you do." 

Hannibal folded Will against him, feeling the way his body curved so perfectly into his own. Honestly, he never expected to reach this point. He had wanted Will at his side from the moment they met, six years prior. He knew, from the moment he saw him in Jack’s office, that his interest in Will was beyond that of his profession. And his feelings only grew. Obsession became love, and the purest love he had felt in a while. The very sight of Will satisfied him like nothing else could. But even still, he didn’t expect this.

The sun was setting, setting the entire world around them ablaze in orange. The white walls, the couch, the chair, the floor, they were all a soft, vibrant orange with reds and yellows dancing around the edges. Will’s ocean eyes danced in the evening light. Just as they danced together.

It took so much to bring them here, together. He had Will, his Will, tucked in arms, their bodies pressed together. Their hands were intertwined, hovering next to them, fingers laced together. His other hand was pressed against Will’s lower back, while Will’s other hand was fisted in his shirt.

They weren’t exactly dancing, it was more slow-spinning and swaying. Not that it mattered. He truly didn’t care if they were waltzing or just standing closely together. It only mattered that Will was here, in his arms. He was safe, alive, and he belonged only to one person: Hannibal.

Will sighed where he tucked his face against Hannibal's shoulder. 

"Will."

The other hummed lightly in acknowledgment and Hannibal knew he was floating somewhere but still within Hannibal's grasp. Even when Will receded into the depths of his own mind, he was never out of Hannibal's reach. He would merely drag Hannibal with him, their minds both falling into the same place, together. 

"Will," He said again, causing the other to move to look at him. "I still have one more gift for you. Will you allow me, my love?" 

He could almost see Will's walls shot back up at the term of endearment before he forced them back down again. Hannibal had never been more in love. 

"Yes," The other whispered in response. 

There was still time to stop this. He and Will continued swaying for a moment as he thought. Hannibal was always certain except when it came to Will. People were boring and predictable but never had that been Will. The other surprised him turn after turn. His attempt to kill Ingram, his words, their fall from the cliff, their first kiss. Over and over Will surprised him and over and over Hannibal fell a little bit more in love with him. 

He leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to Will's forehead before reaching into his pocket to grasp the box that felt heavier and heavier by the second.

He never doubted himself. 

So he couldn't understand why this, of all things, was so daunting. 

Will watched him closely as Hannibal pressed a feather-light kiss against his lips before dropping to one knee. Will's eyes widened and his lips parted slightly. Hannibal felt the other's hands come to either side of his face, but he didn't say anything or do anything more. Instead, he was waiting. 

Hannibal opened the box, offering it in the small space between them. 

"Will you marry me, Will?" 

The words came out small and breathy. And much to his surprise, and confusion, Will began laughing. Before Hannibal could react, the other reached into his own pocket and pulled out a small object. A ring. 

"I-" Will began. "Won't be anywhere near as romantic. But I guess it doesn't quite matter, does it? We're conjoined." The other offered the ring. "So, will you marry me?" 

Hannibal launched to his feet, picking Will up as he did. The other pressed a kiss to his forehead before Hannibal let him down, finding that Will had grasped his left hand along the way. 

"Yes," Hannibal answered softly against Will's lips. 

"Then yes," Will answered Hannibal's proposal. 

Hannibal discarded the box, taking the ring in hand, and slipped it onto Will's finger as Will mirrored his action. Of course, the band fit perfectly. 

"Come," Will said quietly, dragging Hannibal back to where they were previously. "Dance with me some more Hannibal Lecter." 

Chapter Text

Will was frustrated. And nothing was helping him. Not the runs he had started doing in the morning, not watching Hannibal swim, not the time he spent training their new puppy. Not even the wedding preparations, not that there was much to do. Since they were now known to be alive and well, people such as Jack Crawford and the FBI were still looking for them. Which meant that Hannibal couldn't have the massive wedding he had planned on. Not that Will minded much. He wasn't one for big weddings. Even with Molly, they had only had a small ceremony and an even smaller reception. No one from Will's life previously had been at the ceremony, and it was the same this time. He didn't want them there, he didn't need them there. Hannibal, however, wanted to show off. Show off himself and show off Will. The other, though, was content with a smaller ceremony. 

Though dinner was a different affair. 

Hannibal had insisted on making what was essentially their wedding night dinner himself. Or rather, their second wedding night. Will never truly escaped from the idea that their kill of the Dragon was more binding and ceremonial than standing at an altar and exchanging vows. It was an absurd idea, but one he knew Hannibal would also probably agree with, though he never voiced it. It felt like a consummation; like they had finally taken that final step into utter entwinement. The rings on their hands were merely physical representations of their bonds that ran soul deep. 

But not even finally saying that Hannibal was his in all the ways that mattered truly ended his frustration. 

The wedding did nothing for that frustration; the preparation of their dinner the night before had done nothing. 

Ultimately, Hannibal's idea of "rude" was very flexible. Hannibal would kill for small things, but that wasn't Will. It wasn't someone saying something rude that would ultimately land them on the table for Hannibal's creative culinary artistry. He needed something more. Something that would calm that one small part of him left that still believed in some type of justice. Or so he thought. It turned out that there was one other thing that could force Will into a kill. And that was someone attempting to lay a claim, however small, to Hannibal. And Hannibal was more than willing to let his definition of rude include those who sparked Will's jealous, protective, and slightly possessive side. Will knew he would allow it because Hannibal would kill for the same reason. 

That was the reason that ultimately propelled their main course. 

Will and Hannibal had been shopping for the ingredients for their wedding night dinner. The wine Will had brought was saved for their dinner following the wedding. However, wine wasn't their only ingredient for dinner. Hannibal had been detailing the origin of some meal that had immediately vacated Will's mind the moment he saw one of the market workers with her eye on Hannibal. Listening to Hannibal talk was one of his favorite pastimes, but it was his and his alone. 

Will took her eyes. 

Hannibal was more than pleased to watch.

But not even that kill, no matter how brutal it was — and it was brutal — satisfied Will's frustration. He was wound up so tight, he was going to start cracking. The worst part was not knowing why. He had been wound up like this before, and that time too, it had involved Hannibal. It was before his encephalitis came to light. His response to finding himself so wound up for no apparent reason was to go to Hannibal. And this time, Hannibal was already here, watching calmly as Will paced or found some other way to relieve his frustration. 

Initially, he thought his frustration was sexual, but it didn't feel like sexual frustration. Not the same way he had felt it in the past. 

However, it did mean that the moment they returned from the wedding, Will was practically tearing at his clothes. Hannibal was amused as he tore his tie from his neck, about ready to send it flying. But even still, no matter how much he wanted to liter the clothing around the house, he couldn't. Mostly because he knew it wouldn't sit right with Hannibal. 

Hannibal, who had followed Will into their house and immediately made for the kitchen to finish the preparations for their dinner. 

Will couldn't take it. How was Hannibal being so normal? Unaffected. Was it really just him who was so frustrated? Or was Hannibal just as frustrated over nothing? 

Will followed him into the kitchen, pacing in front of the counter as Hannibal moved around the kitchen, owning the space as though he was a god in his domain. And it was his domain and he was quite frankly a god. Will's god. 

Hannibal's hair had grown out a bit since they returned, the other not really leaving the house to be far from Will even though they had been back two months at this point. 

Will moved around the counter as Hannibal beckoned. Hannibal offered him the ladle he was currently working with, pressing it into Will's hands and guiding his movements. Will's frustration calmed immediately as Hannibal guided his movements. He could feel Hannibal hovering at his shoulder, their bodies pressed together as Will began to take over the last of the meal prep. Hannibal's other hand was on his hip. He wasn't guiding any other movements other than those of his hands, not even bothering to talk as all Will needed was a simple tap this way or that to know exactly what the other wanted. 

But what Will wanted was at the forefront of his mind. 

He wanted the closeness. Certainly, the two of them fell asleep in each other's arms each night, but that wasn't the same. They were close, but not awake for it. He rarely had any nightmares anymore, with Hannibal so close, but it was still sleep. He needed this closeness while awake. 

The ladle was loose in his fingers as he turned his head slightly, finding Hannibal over his shoulder, their lips brushing briefly. Will dropped the ladle. 

He turned in Hannibal's arms, finding the other equally as receptive to his attention as Will was to Hannibal's. Will pressed against the other, his hands sliding in his suit jacket to pull it away. Hannibal was equally as eager, tugging at Will's jacket and discarding it on the kitchen floor. He pressed the other moving them back into the refrigerator as Hannibal had once done to him. Hannibal's hand moved into his hair, tugging at his curls lightly before they moved off the appliance and through the house toward the stairs. It wasn't exactly graceful, as they managed to fall over on the stairs while they tried to wrestle Will's shirt from him. He landed on top of the other, who didn't seem to care that his body had taken the brunt of the fall onto the stairs. Instead, he tugged Will closer and eventually discarded his shirt haphazardly. 

He tore Hannibal's shirt from him before they managed to climb to their feet. 

Rather than risk the two of them falling over again, Will wrapped his hands around Hannibal's thighs, lifting him upward. He knew Hannibal drew some joy from the fact that Will could manhandle him, especially now since it meant Will was better. 

Hannibal tugged at Will's curls, twisting his head this way and that for better access as they moved through the house, toward the bedroom. 

They collapsed onto the bed with very little grace. But it put them close together. 

Will groaned at the skin to skin contact, feeling the way the hair on Hannibal's chest pressed against his own. He could feel the other shift and move, the way his hair tickled Will's chest slightly. It was an altogether different experience than the ones he'd had previously, even with other men, but he wasn't averse to it. In fact, he quite enjoyed it. 

His lips were everywhere he could reach, and his hands everywhere he couldn't. Hannibal was the same their hands brushing often as they moved around each other, feeling out the other's body. It wasn't as though they were exploring new territory, they knew each other as well as they knew themselves, but it was far different now. Hannibal tilted his head, shifting Will so he could kiss his forehead, his cheeks, his eyelids. 

Will was shaking in Hannibal's grasp, needing closer. 

He turned, finding Hannibal's shoulder where his hand pressed the other closer and sunk his teeth into flesh. Hannibal moaned, praising him gently and massaging his scalp with every flex of his fingers in Will's hair. 

Hannibal's hand stroked over his back, both somehow claiming him and fueling the fire that was already burning within him. 

He ground his hips down, grinding against Hannibal's still concealed cock with his own. Not that either of them had been freed yet.

Will returned his attention to Hannibal's lips, mouths opening to let tongues explore. He slid his hand into Hannibal's hair, immediately tugging at the strands and making his normally perfectly tamed hair less than tamed. 

One of Hannibal's hands pressed against his lower back, forcing him down slightly for them to grind together again. He obeyed, moving his hips to produce some friction between them. Hannibal shifted to trace his tongue around the shell of Will's ear, before tugging the lobe between his teeth lightly. Will rolled them onto their sides, his fingers dancing over the hem of the other's pants, feeling Hannibal nod slightly in encouragement. Will wasted no time undoing his pants and shoving them and the underwear down. Hannibal did the same, his nimble fingers making Will shiver where they grazed over his flesh. 

He shuddered when Hannibal's bare leg grazed his. It set him on fire, feeling the skin on skin contact, feeling Hannibal and just Hannibal so close. 

Hannibal. His Hannibal. They were bound, conjoined.

Ensnared. 

Hannibal had captured him. And Will had captured Hannibal in return. 

Will pushed Hannibal onto his back once more, this time moving down his body to kiss everywhere he could reach. Hannibal's hands stayed running over his shoulders and into his hair, even as his head fell back. Will could feel the other's chest hair as it crinkled under his lips. But even more than that, he could feel Hannibal's heart hammering in his chest. The other wasn't one to let his heart race, so it stroked what Will could consider an ego to know he had that kind of effect. 

Will continued down the other's body, feeling everywhere he was soft and everywhere he wasn't. He nipped at the jut of the other's hips, trailed his tongue over his pelvis, even dipped to press kisses and small bites against his thighs. He knew he was easy the other slightly, avoiding the one thing he was truly aiming for, but Hannibal never protested. 

He flicked his gaze up slightly, seeing Hannibal straining to look at him, before he ran his tongue over the other's cock. The moan he elicited was downright sinful. Will dropped his head, taking Hannibal's considerable length in his mouth and bobbing his head, sucking and hollowing his cheeks. Hannibal's hand fisted in his hair, tugging at his curls, rocking upward slightly into his mouth. He knew the other would be careful, would try not to hurt him. But he wanted him to thrust. He continued, not holding Hannibal's hips in place as he sucked, stroking the base of his cock with his hand. 

Hannibal tugged at his hair, his fingers massaging into his scalp before he felt the other push him lightly. Will went. The other's cock continued to slide into his mouth and down his throat until Will felt his jaw straining and his breath cut off. Hannibal didn't keep him there for long, but long enough that Will felt slightly lightheaded. 

When Hannibal released him, Will pulled himself off the other's cock, smirking slightly at the man above him. Hannibal raised an eyebrow as Will shifted slightly, running his hand over the other's chest. He crawled back up the other's body, settling himself just at Hannibal's waist. 

Hannibal immediately pulled him in for a kiss, his hands running over Will's body happily. But Will had other ideas. 

He grasped Hannibal's chin between his thumb and forefinger, turning the other's head slightly. Hannibal moved as he bid, and Will attacked his neck with fervor, licking and biting and sucking a new mark where others had been and faded. At the same time, his fingers traced over the other's lips and Hannibal wasted no time opening his mouth and sucking them in. Will hummed from where he was latched at Hannibal's throat. 

He managed to slip a hand between them, wrapping it around his and Hannibal's cocks, stroking gently. One of Hannibal's hands wrapped around his wrist, holding his hand in place as he continued to wet his fingers, while the other hand joined Will's around their cocks, the two of them settling into a comfortable rhythm of rocking and stroking. 

After several moments, and a series of marks that trailed down Hannibal's neck, he pulled his fingers from the other's mouth. It took little effort to push Hannibal's legs apart as he settled between the other's thighs, but it took more effort to move his hand between them. His other hand was still locked with Hannibal's around their cocks while Hannibal occupied his mouth with his own. He managed, nonetheless, to find Hannibal's entrance with probing fingers. 

"Will." Hannibal moaned his name into his mouth, a sound that Will was grateful for. 

He had to let go of the two of them to gain better access, balancing himself on his arm while he pushed a finger inside Hannibal's body. 

The other groaned, pulling his legs up more to help him. Will pushed inside him with one finger at first, as Hannibal tugged at his hair lightly. 

Pleasure and arousal pooled in his gut, amplified by every moan he managed to elicit from Hannibal. 

Will shifted to add another finger, slowly before scissoring. He doubted Hannibal actually cared how much prep he did, but neither he nor Will was the kind of monster that would cause pain in this way. However, he was certain that Hannibal was letting Will have his way. However he wanted Hannibal, the other would let him. 

He pulled his fingers from the other's body, this time reaching for the lube in the bedside table that he knew was there, even if he wasn't told as much. He didn't bother reading the label, though he was certain it was absurd and fancy. Instead, he coated his fingers, this time adding a third as he slid back into Hannibal. 

The other's body was twitching with his movements, his eyes closed and uttering what Will was certain were obscenities in a few different languages. Hannibal couldn't keep his hands to himself, even if it was just stroking the arm that Will was balanced on. 

When Will was certain the other was ready, he opened the lube once more, this time coating his cock. Hannibal shifted more up the bed, and Will followed before settling between his thighs once again. 

Hannibal's hands were on his hips, guiding him closer as Will lined himself up. He pushed into Hannibal slowly, groaning at the all-encompassing heat. Hannibal moaned as well, adjusting his fingers to secure his grip on Will's hip and drag him closer. That was until Will had pushed into Hannibal fully, buried to the hilt, and Hannibal's hands moved up his body, pulling him down so they were chest to chest. 

Will began to shift slowly, watching Hannibal under him who was watching him right back. One of Hannibal's hands was cupping his face, his thumb stroking over Will's cheek lightly while the other pressed against his lower back, guiding Will's movements gently. 

Will was in utter awe of Hannibal. Everything about him had Will entranced. But being this close brought him a different leave of satisfaction. He needed this. He needed this closeness. This physical conjoining to mirror their joining in every other way. He needed this physical grounding after feeling like he was floating so long untethered. 

Hannibal was his tether. His safe place. His home. The one person on the planet he would truly kill for. 

"Come here," Hannibal coaxed, turning his head so their lips could meet again. 

He wanted to lose himself in Hannibal. 

Hannibal's hips arched to meet every thrust of Will's which had grown in intensity since he started. He could feel every way Hannibal tensed and relaxed around him, every time found the other's prostate, and every time his moans rumbled in his chest, sending shivers and pleasure straight through his body. 

Hannibal's arms were around him, holding him in place especially the back of his head as he continued to ravage Will's mouth. Will set a brutal pace, the bed rocking and creaking under their movements. He was certain it was a strong bed, but part of him wanted to break it. The mattress creaked under them, the springs squeaking lightly. 

After a moment, he pulled himself upward, tugging Hannibal with him and settling the other in his lap. It was so much deeper this way, he felt like he was buried in Hannibal's very core. The other's arms were draped over his shoulders as he clung to Hannibal's lower back, grinding slightly. Hannibal began to move, his thighs flexing. Will thrust upward, meeting every downward drop of Hannibal's hips. One of Hannibal's hands fisted in his hair, rubbing at the back of his neck gently despite the lack of gentleness in their other movements. 

Will's mind was gone. Bathed in pleasure and wrapped in Hannibal, the outside world or even the world outside their bedroom didn't matter to him. 

One of his hands moved to brush over the bullet wound in Hannibal's back, feeling the raised flesh and remembering exactly what it meant. Hannibal mirrored him, bodies grinding together as they remembered what might as well have been their vows anyway. 

I won't watch you die.

Will wrapped his other hand around Hannibal's leaking cock, stroking in time with his thrusts. Hannibal buried his face in Will's shoulder, his teeth latching onto the skin there and biting. Will's head fell back. 

With a few more thrusts and strokes, Hannibal was spilling over his hand, his body becoming rigid. 

Will couldn't take it anymore, sinking into his pleasure and with another couple of thrusts, came inside Hannibal. 

Both were still for a moment, chests heaving as Will slowly rocked into the aftershocks of his orgasm before they fell back onto the bed. Hannibal's grip on him was tight as Will tucked himself under the other's chin, savoring the smell of Hannibal sweaty and well fucked. He supposed to an extent, he understood Hannibal's interest in his scent. 

They were there for a while until their breathing and heart rates calmed and Will and had turned them on their sides. 

"You're beautiful like this," Hannibal murmured into his hair. 

Will tilted his head up, looking into the other's face. "Someone once told me that I should be intimate with my instincts." 

"It was good advice," Hannibal murmured, stroking his cheek. 

Will hummed.

After another few seconds, Hannibal began to move away but Will's grip tightened on him. 

"Where are you going?" 

"To clean up and the dinner," Hannibal answered, but didn't move anymore with Will holding him in place. 

"Dinner can wait."

Hannibal raised an eyebrow. 

"It's my wedding night," Will continued. "And I'm not done with you yet." 

Hannibal barely had time to give him what was ultimately a menacing, toothy grin before Will attacked him again. 

Then next day, Will lounged in Hannibal's lap, his head on the armrest of the couch and his back propped against Hannibal's thigh. He was settled between Hannibal's legs with his own stretched out onto the rest of the couch and holding the glass of wine that he had been nursing in his hand. His eyes were closed slightly, drifting in and out of consciousness while Hannibal stroked his hair with one hand and read on his iPad with the other. 

"Will," Hannibal said softly and he felt the other move as he opened his eyes. 

Hannibal had turned the tablet to face him, showing the article he was reading. 

Murder Husbands: Alive and Now Officially Husbands?

Will chuckled to himself before he discarded the wine glass on the table behind him, next to Hannibal's. 

"Should have killed her." He muttered, shifting so he could rest his head on the other's shoulder. 

Hannibal huffed out a small laugh. "There's still time." 

"Mm," Will hummed. "Not today." 

He settled more against Hannibal, closing his eyes and drifting again. 

At the same time, Hannibal shifted, pressing a kiss against his curls and sighing softly.

"Whatever you wish, Will."