Chapter Text
It’s not very comfortable, but Hannibal stays curled up next to Will until morning, drifting in and out of sleep every time Will moves. He gets up early, goes home to shower and change, then starts making soup for Will.
He gets a message from Will asking where he went, so he replies, telling him. Then he takes the meat for his dinner with Alana out of the freezer to thaw for the day.
When he finally walks back into the hospital, it’s just after eleven, he’s carrying soup and Will’s washed clothes from the day before. There’s voices inside Will’s room and Hannibal pokes his head around the door frame to see Jack Crawford sitting next to Will’s bed.
Will glances over at him, a smile on his face, leftover from something Jack was saying, that only grows wider when his eyes meet Hannibal’s.
“Doctor Lecter, come in,” Will says, waving him in.
“Good morning, Doctor Lecter,” Jack says.
Hannibal nods at them both, then holds up both bags and says, “I brought you soup and those clothes you asked me to bring.”
“Ah, thank you,” Will says.
Hannibal goes and sets everything down on a table while Jack and Will keep talking. If Jack suspects Hannibal is out of place here, he doesn’t mention it and eventually says he has to get back to Quantico.
“I can go let the dogs out if you need me to,” Jack offers, but Will shakes his head.
“Beverly got them this morning and Alana said she’ll do it this evening,” Will tells him.
“Alright, take care,” Jack says. “Doctor Lecter, mind walking out with me?”
Hannibal nods and follows Jack out of the room.
“Thank you for all you do for Will,” Jack says once they’re around the corner.
“Of course. Will is my friend,” Hannibal says. “I couldn’t see him suffer the way he has been.”
“There is something else, besides the encephalitis that I am slightly worried about,” Jack says quietly. “Will was having a hard time at our Ripper scenes and I was wondering if he’s talked to you about that. He said it was due to a breakup, and I know we talked briefly on Friday, but I just want to make sure he’s doing okay with that.”
“He mentioned it,” Hannibal confirms. “He didn’t say much, as he thought his relationship was the least of his issues. He was also worried about his physical illness. We haven’t talked much about it, but I do believe him and his partner have since reconciled.”
“He did seem a lot happier today and on Monday than I have seen him in quite some time, but I didn’t feel it was my place to ask,” Jack says.
“No, perhaps it’s not,” Hannibal agrees. They come to the front doors of the hospital and Hannibal stops. “Will and I will not be having sessions for some time, and seeing as he is not doing field work for the time being, I will not have any reports for you.”
“Right, right,” Jack nods. “I better go. Good seeing you.”
“I would love to have you over for dinner soon. Call me with a night that works,” Hannibal says, shaking Jack’s hand.
“Sure,” Jack says and turns to go, leaving Hannibal relieved that he can go be alone with Will for the afternoon.
When Hannibal returns to Will’s room, Will is getting out of his bed and crossing the room to the table Hannibal set the soup on. He pushes his IV stand across the floor, walks on his bare feet.
Hannibal watches him for the doorway, then goes to one of the bags he brought the night before. He takes out a pair of slippers and sets them on the floor in front of Will.
“You think of everything, don’t you?” Will asks, sliding the slippers onto his feet and shuffling across the floor to sit at the table.
Hannibal gives him a smile and sits down across from him. He takes the containers of soup out of the insulated bag and sets one in front of Will.
“You made me chicken soup again?” Will asks when he opens it.
Hannibal takes a pause. Will reduced a more complex soup down to just being chicken soup, but Hannibal pretends he doesn’t care. “Yes.”
“Thank you,” Will says and begins to eat. Hannibal does the same.
Will finishes his soup and slides the empty container back towards Hannibal.
“Sutcliffe came by while you were gone this morning,” Will says after he’s back in bed. “He thinks everything’s going good with my treatment and I should be able to go home tomorrow.”
“As he already said yesterday,” Hannibal reminds him, sitting down in the chair next to Will’s bed again. “What else did he say?”
Will sighs. “He didn’t really say much, but he sounded like he wanted to be anywhere but in this room.”
“He is likely just envious that he actually is fifty and has not yet found a younger man to use him for his money,” Hannibal says.
“Oh, right. How could I have forgotten?” Will asks sarcastically. More sincerely, now, he says, “You know I don’t give a shit about your money, right?”
“I know, Will.”
“Good. What did Jack want to talk to you about?”
“He’s worried you’re going to break,” Hannibal answers. Jack didn’t say it, but that is what it sounded like he meant. Hannibal smiles slightly, just the corners of his mouth tilting minutely. “He asked if you’ve been talking to me about the breakup you were going through.”
“Jesus, what did you tell him?”
“I said you and your partner have reconciled but your physical health and those symptoms were my top priority, so we haven’t talked about it,” Hannibal says. “That said, we are in a hospital room, not your home. Would you allow me to be your therapist for a few minutes, so we can talk about the scenes you’ve been going to?”
Will sighs. “The Ripper scenes upset me because he was using flower symbolism to send a message to what we presumed to be a romantic partner. Things were good between them for the first one, then the second two it was clear something shifted, which happened around the same time we weren’t talking.”
Hanninal knows that if he gives anything away in his face or in his words, Will is going to make that connection and he might cause a scene right here in the hospital room. He reaches out and squeezes Will’s hand, then brings it to his lips to press a light kiss to his knuckles.
“I just,” Will shrugs before continuing. “Had to cry in my car at one of the scenes. Jack was a bit worried. We’re past it. As long as we don’t stop talking for two weeks again, then I will not be crying at crime scenes anymore.”
“I do not intend on that happening again,” Hannibal agrees.
“Anyways, no more crime scene talk,” Will says quickly. “How did you sleep last night?”
“You were quite restless,” Hannibal says. “And this bed is not made for two.”
“So you slept like shit, then,” Will laughs.
“I didn’t say that,” Hannibal counters, light hearted. “I will gladly do it again tonight. You don’t like being here alone, I assume.”
“No. I hate hospitals.”
“Associated with bad memories?”
Will nods, then tells him about how alone he felt after his stabbing, about his father, about watching over Abigail. Hannibal stands from his seat, pushes Will’s hair away from his face and kisses his forehead.
“Besides my dinner with Alana tonight, I’ll be right here.”
“You could always cancel on Alana,” Will says.
“It would be unbearably rude, but I will try to make it quick.”
Will’s phone chimes on the table and he picks it up. “Speak of the devil. Alana’s coming by. She’s picking up Abigail now.”
“Well, then I suppose I better slide my chair away from your bed and let go of your hand,” Hannibal says, doing just that.
“We have a bit of time,” Will protests, but he doesn’t reach out to pull Hannibal back to him, so Hannibal stays where he is.
“Alana has a tendency to, ah, say she’s fifteen minutes away when she’s actually pulling up,” Hannibal explains. As if right on cue, Alana walks into the room with Abigail trailing her.
“Oh, Hannibal! I wasn’t aware you were here,” Alana says with a smile. She looks over to Will and keeps smiling. “How are you, Will?”
“Can’t complain,” Will answers. Abigail’s eyes go between Hannibal and Will, a question in her eyes.
Hannibal stands and says, “I’m going to take Abigail to get a snack from the vending machine, so you two can talk.”
Outside of Will’s room, Abigail looks up at Hannibal.
“Don’t you think people are going to catch on if you’re always here?” Abigail asks.
“I’m not always here,” Hannibal says. “I went home this morning and I am having dinner with Dr Bloom tonight.”
“How does Will feel about dinner with Dr Bloom?”
They stop at the vending machine and Hannibal pulls out his wallet, handing a few dollars to Abigail. She punches in her selection while Hannibal pretends to think about his answer.
“He didn’t seem happy,” Hannibal says finally.
“Dr Bloom flirts with both of you guys if you haven’t noticed,” Abigail mutters.
“I have noticed,” Hannibal says.
“Well, as long as you know that,” Abigail shrugs.
The walk back towards Will’s room in silence, Abigail with a soda and candy.
Hannibal pretends not to be bothered by Alana holding one of Will’s hands while she sits in Hannibal’s chair.
“Well, I suppose I should go,” Hannibal says. “Alana, would you mind if we moved our dinner to 5 instead of 6? I have quite a bit of work to do tonight.”
“Oh, sure. That’s fine with me, Hannibal. I’ll see you at five, then,” Alana says.
“Thank you for lunch, Doctor Lecter,” Will says with a smile.
Hannibal wants to kiss him goodbye, but instead just nods and picks up his jacket, leaving Alana and Abigail with Will.
He has several hours to spare between now and five so he makes the drive to Wolf Trap. He knows the dogs are lonely and that only being let out and fed in the morning and evening isn’t ideal for them.
They all jump up when they see him, then run out into the yard while he goes inside to use the restroom. He looks around the house and decides to start cleaning up some of the things Will has laying around. He puts a load of laundry in the washing machine, then brings the dogs back in and feeds them.
He decides he can spare enough time until the washing machine is done, so he sits on the floor with the dogs and pets them all. He can’t believe what he’s become after being with Will for such a short amount of time.
Any other person would never get the same treatment Hannibal gives Will. He would never sit on the floor with someone else’s seven dogs at once, never sleep in a hospital bed curled up next to someone else, nor would he do their laundry without being asked.
As he sits on the floor, his phone starts ringing in his pocket and he smiles.
“Hello, Will,” Hannibal answers.
At the sound of his name, Buster barks and Hannibal sets a hand on his head, scratches his ears.
“Are you at my house?” Will asks.
“Yes, I figured the dogs would like some company,” Hannibal answers. “I know I left the hospital abruptly, but I felt as though the room was overcrowded.”
“You didn’t like that Alana was sitting in your chair,” Will corrects him. “How are the dogs?”
“They’re well. Winston misses you a lot,” Hannibal says, looking over at the dog laying in Will’s bed.
“Well, I’ll be home tomorrow. You’re coming back tonight, right?”
“Of course, my love. The second Alana leaves my house tonight I will as well,” Hannibal says.
He pushes himself off the floor and goes into the laundry room.
“I washed your clothes that were in the laundry basket,” Hannibal says, opening the washing machine with one hand. He holds his phone between his ear and his shoulder as he pulls them out and puts them in the dryer.
“Oh you didn’t have to do that,” Will says. “But thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
They talk for a few more minutes before Hannibal decides he’s pushing it for time. He hangs up and goes home to Baltimore.
He arrives at his house close to four and immediately changes out of his dog hair covered suit into something more comfortable. A long sleeve shirt and slacks. It’s casual for him, but he has no one to impress tonight.
When Alana shows up, she’s right on time and Hannibal is just pulling their meal from the oven. Alana sits down in the dining room while Hannibal starts plating their food.
He carries their plates in and finally has a second to take in Alana’s appearance. Her makeup clearly had thought put into it; deep red lips, and a dark smokey eye shadow. Her dress is nicer than she usually wears to dinner at his house, and her hair is styled. Hannibal inwardly curses, hoping she’s not dressed up for him in some way.
As dinner goes on, it grows more and more apparent that she’s trying to get something from him. Her smiles, her subtle touches across the table, her compliments. Hannibal knows.
It doesn’t help at all that he spent months encouraging flirtatious behavior from her by actively flirting back, dressing nicely for her, buying her small gifts. He had thought it would make it easier to manipulate her later on if needed, but it seems his plan backfired on him.
He doesn’t offer more wine when she finishes the small glass he originally poured her, he doesn’t take more himself, either. He needs to be sober if he’s going to make it back to Will in one piece tonight.
Still, he doesn’t want to seem like anything is too out of the ordinary, so like always, they take their dessert into Hannibal’s sitting room. She sits very near him on the couch, only an inch or two between them.
Hannibal finally sets his bowl down on the coffee table in front of them and Alana does as well, though hers is only half finished.
“Hannibal,” Alana whispers, and he turns to look at her, which he knew before he did that he should not, and he really shouldn’t have.
Alana lifts a hand to his face and before he can react, she’s leaning in.
“Oh,” Hannibal says before her lips can meet his, and he turns his head away. “Sorry, Alana.”
“What?” Alana asks. “Oh I must have read this wrong, then.”
Hannibal stands and picks up both of their bowls, but he doesn’t move toward the kitchen yet.
“I started seeing someone recently,” Hannibal says as a way of explanation. “I do not believe you read anything wrong, just kept reading when I was no longer giving you something to read into.”
“I see,” Alana says quietly. “So… so you were flirting with me before, then?”
“I believe I stopped a month ago,” Hannibal answers.
“Oh. Okay. I should, um,” Alana stands. “I should go. I’m sorry.”
Hannibal nods and then leaves the room to take the bowls to the sink. Alana is already gone by the time he returns to the sitting room. He waits ten minutes before getting in his car and going back to Will.
“Hey, baby,” Will smiles when he sees Hannibal come in the door. The look on his face is one which he sees on his dogs all the time. “Oh, no. What did you do?”
Hannibal’s eyes go wide, likely because he doesn’t understand how Will knew. Will is getting better at picking up on his facial tells. To anyone else, he would look as he always does, but Will can see some sort of guilt lying under the surface. No, not guilt… confusion, maybe.
“I did not do anything,” Hannibal says. He takes off his coat and shoes and Will scoots over in the bed, making space for Hannibal to crawl in next to him and curl around his body. “Alana tried to kiss me.”
With that, Will feels a type of rage he hasn’t felt in a long time, if ever. No, not rage. Will feels possessive and jealous. He also wants to kill Alana. Instead he makes a growling noise, completely involuntary, and wraps his arms around Hannibal. Tight.
“Did she, now?” Will asks through gritted teeth.
Hannibal rubs his face on Will’s chest and finds one of Will’s hands with one of his own.
“I rejected her, of course,” Hannibal whispers. “Though, I am afraid I encouraged this, as I did play a game with her for some time. It stopped the day I asked you out, but she didn’t seem to realize.”
“What did you say to her tonight?”
“That I am seeing someone and that I haven’t made an attempt to flirt with her in a month,” Hannibal answers.
“It’s a good thing I am in a hospital bed right now, or I would go give her a piece of my mind,” Will says. He wants to kill her, he doesn’t say. “You’re mine, Hannibal.”
“Yours and only yours,” Hannibal agrees. He kisses Will’s chest.
“Good. Thank you for telling me, by the way.”
“You immediately knew something had happened,” Hannibal whispers.
“You looked at me like the dogs do after they piss on the floor,” Will laughs. He loosens his arm around Hannibal and brings a hand to his chin to turn his head up. “You didn’t get to kiss me goodbye today.”
Hannibal smiles and sits up carefully, then leans down to kiss Will lightly.
There’s footsteps in the doorway.
“Sir, I’m sorry but visiting hours are over, and the patient needs to get some rest,” a nurse says.
Hannibal looks up, away from Will, just as Will also turns his head to see who is interrupting them.
“Oh, Doctor Lecter!” The nurse exclaims.
Hannibal gets out of bed and greets the nurse with a handshake, like old friends. Will watches Hannibal pull him out into the hallway and watches both of their lips move, but he can’t hear a single word they say. They glance over at him a few times during their conversation. Finally the nurse nods, then leaves and Hannibal walks back into the room.
Will raises an eyebrow at him while Hannibal climbs back into the bed.
“I can stay,” Hannibal whispers. “I said you’ll likely get no rest if I am not here, and it would be better to just let me stay.”
“Good.”
They lay there together in the small, cramped bed, but there’s nowhere else Will would rather be as long as it means he can have Hannibal by his side.
Will drifts off at some point, Hannibal’s head on his chest pushing him down into the mattress, encouraging him to succumb to his exhaustion.
His dreams have been just as bad as they always are, and tonight he dreams of Hobbs sitting in the chair at his side, chest full of bullet holes. There’s a pressure pushing him down, down, down into the mattress and when Will looks down, his own chest is being littered with gunshots, pushing him down with each blow.
Garrett Jacob Hobbs holds one of Will’s hands in his own, and behind him stands Abigail, a hand on Hobbs’s shoulder, a slice across her neck, antlers through her midsection.
In unison, they both say, “See?”
Will wakes with a start, just as he always does. The room around him is the one like his dream. The hospital room he’s been in for two days. He tries to get his breathing under control at the realization that he’s awake and that Hannibal is the only other person in the room.
“You’re alright, Will,” Hannibal whispers. “You’re okay.”
Will’s hand finds Hannibal’s own resting on his chest and squeezes it tight.
“I’m okay,” Will says after a minute.
“At least you aren’t sweating through your hospital gown. That is a good sign,” Hannibal murmurs.
Will woke up in a sweat, but not drenched like usual. That's an improvement. He realizes the room around him is even slightly chilly and he tries to pull his blanket up from his waist.
“You’re on the blanket,” Will whispers.
Hannibal gets out of the bed, which isn’t what Will wanted at all, but Will is able to pull the blanket to his chin. He watches as Hannibal goes to one of the bags he brought and pulls out two pairs of pajama pants.
“Put these on,” Hannibal says, handing a pair to Will.
Will carefully gets out of bed and pulls the pants on, instantly feeling warmer in the cold room. He hasn’t felt chilled like this in a long time. Hannibal changes his pants too, and then they’re both climbing back into the hospital bed, Hannibal curled up next to Will under the blanket.
Hannibal kisses his chest and Will falls asleep again within minutes.
When he wakes in the morning, he’s pleased that Hannibal is still in bed with him, snoring softly next to him. He smiles and lets Hannibal sleep on while he picks up his book and reads it.
After twenty minutes, Hannibal begins to stir and Will looks down to see a sleepy look on his face, his hair completely rumpled, a yawn forming on his lips.
“Good morning,” Hannibal says. “You get to go home today.”
“As long as it looks like I am responding well to treatment. They’re bringing me in for another brain scan at ten,” Will says, setting the book down.
Hannibal lifts his head to look at the clock on the far wall. “In thirty minutes?”
“Mhm. I suspect nurses will be in any moment to start taking these needles out of my arms.”
“Good. I will get up then,” Hannibal says, rolling off of the mattress and standing on the floor. He picks up his pants from the night before and takes them into the bathroom.
Hannibal comes back, hair slicked back with water, sweater only slightly wrinkled. Will gestures for him to come over, which he does, and Will reaches out to mess up his hair again, earning a glare, which turns into a fond smile only a second later.
Nurses come in, remove Will’s IVs, then Sutcliffe comes in and gives Hannibal and Will both a look, then takes Will for an MRI while Hannibal stays back to clean up their stuff around the hospital room.
Hannibal sits and waits, playing a game on his tablet for a few minutes before switching to see if there’s anything good on Tattlecrime. No ones tried to copy any of his work, which Hannibal finds boring. He does see a few kills that he could easily copy if he wanted to, though. He could tell Will about those kills and Will would just think Hannibal is a really good copycat killer and nothing more.
When Will comes back, Doctor Sutcliffe is following him and addresses them both.
“It seems that you’re responding well to the treatment and you’ll be able to go home as expected. I have prescriptions for you, take as directed. You’ll need to come back for a few more scans just to make sure everything is still going well,” Sutcliffe explains. Finally he gives Will papers with all of the information he’ll need about continuing his treatment at home and then he’s free to go.
“When do you go back to work?” Will asks as they get into Hannibal’s car.
“Monday,” Hannibal answers. “I was hoping to stay with you until then, but I don’t want to invite myself.”
“No, no, please. Stay with me,” Will says. “I am going to be bored out of my mind alone.”
Hannibal smiles as he puts the car in drive. “I need to stop at home.”
“Okay,” Will agrees.
Will stays in the car while Hannibal fills a bag with enough clothes to last him until Monday morning. He gets a cooler that he fills with ingredients to use for meals, knowing Will’s fridge is likely lacking after so many days away.
The drive to Wolf Trap is quiet, Will leaning against the window with his eyes closed, Hannibal not wanting to disturb his rest.
They stop at the pharmacy Will sent his prescriptions to, and Will goes inside, a tired look in his eyes. Hannibal stands in line with him, holding his hand. Hannibal doesn’t mind public displays of affection. He likes showing people that he and Will are together, and he does so at any moment he can. Which isn’t often at all, with them hiding their relationship from everyone they know.
At Will’s house Hannibal carries in all of their bags, leaving the clothes next to Will’s bed, then bringing the cooler into the kitchen. He sets it on the counter, then hears the front door open again, even though Will was supposed to go lay down.
“You’re on bed rest,” Hannibal reminds him when he finds Will standing on the porch, watching the dogs. “I will worry about the dogs, you go put on some pajamas and get comfortable. I will join you soon.”
Will huffs in response, but goes anyway, leaving Hannibal to take care of the dogs. When Hannibal goes back inside, he hears Will’s house phone ringing.
Will stumbles out of bed to get to the landline in the kitchen, just as Hannibal comes in the front door with the dogs. He knows Hannibal wants to say something about him being in bed, but it’s better to answer now than have to worry about them calling back.
People don’t usually call his landline; he usually doesn’t give the number out to anyone other than his vet’s office and doctor’s offices. Especially doesn’t even tell Jack Crawford he has one because then he’ll never be able to shut off his cell phone and ignore him again.
“Hello?”
“Will Graham? It’s the Wolf Trap Veterinarian Clinic. We’ve been trying to reach you for a few days now. We were wondering if you have room for one more,” the woman on the other end says.
He looks around at the seven dogs filing into the kitchen, Hannibal in tow. Definitely not, Will thinks.
“Yeah, of course,” Will answers instead. What’s one more? he reasons with himself.
“Cool. He’s a Brittany spaniel named Rusty. Around four years old. His owners couldn’t keep him anymore and I told them we’d help find a home,” she says. “He seems to be really good with other pets and he’s trained. You’re the first person we thought of.”
“Sounds great,” Will says, looking at Hannibal, who is putting food that he brought into the fridge. He smiles slyly. “Could my boyfriend come pick him up now?”
“Of course, just give us his name, and make sure he has his ID for confirmation,” she says.
Will gives her Hannibal’s name then hangs up the phone.
“You know where the vet clinic is?” Will asks, pulling out a piece of paper to write the address down. “Bring your ID and tell them you’re picking up Rusty.”
“Is Rusty a dog?” Hannibal asks.
“Yes,” Will answers.
“And you want me to go get him for you,” Hannibal says.
“Yes. And you’re going to because you love me, and I should be in bed, so I can’t go myself,” Will says quickly.
Hannibal sighs. “Very well. I’m taking your car.”
Will finds his keys where Beverly left them on the counter and hands them to Hannibal, then kisses him on the cheek. Will hands Hannibal a collar and a leash and pushes him out the front door with a promise to get in bed right after he leaves.
Hannibal drives to the address Will gave him. He doesn’t think Will needs another dog, not while he’s supposed to be resting, but the look on Will’s face… Hannibal knows he has to do this for him, so he does.
When he goes into the building, he walks up to the counter and smiles at the lady sitting there.
“I’m Hannibal Lecter. I was told by Will Graham to come pick up a dog named Rusty,” Hannibal tells her.
“Of course! Could I just see a driver’s license?”
Hannibal hands it to her and she looks it over, then hands it back.
“I will be just a moment,” the lady says with a smile and disappears into a back room.
A few minutes later she comes back with a beautiful white dog with large brown spots. He pulls the leash out of his pocket and clips it to the collar he brought, then puts it around the dog's neck. Hannibal leans down and feels the dogs soft, fluffy ears and the dog turns to lick his hand.
“I am assuming Will already knows everything about bringing a new dog home, but do make sure to tell him to call if Rusty has any problems with the rest of the pack,” the lady says. “We’ll take him back if it’s not a good fit, but Will’s taken a few from us over the years.”
“Very well. Thank you,” Hannibal says with a nod.
He leads the excited dog out to Will’s car and opens the back door for him. Rusty jumps into the car and sits on the seat, as Hannibal closes the door and gets into the driver’s seat once more. The dog is panting heavily, so Hannibal opens the back windows just a crack, letting Rusty stick his nose out while Hannibal drives back to Will’s house.
Hannibal can’t explain it, but he already likes this dog. “Russel, I do hope you get along with the others,” Hannibal tells him. The dog stands with his front paws on the center console and licks Hannibal’s ear, which causes Hannibal to smile.
Back at Will’s house, Hannibal pulls into the barn and gets out of the car, then leads Rusty around to the house. Will is standing on the front porch waiting for them both.
“You’re supposed to be in bed,” Hannibal reminds him.
“I need to oversee how the other dogs like him,” Will says. He bends down and pets the dog, leaning his forehead against Rusty’s while he ruffles his ears. “Hi, Rusty.”
When Will stands, he brushes his hands on his pajama pants, then walks across the porch where he has a collapsed kennel leaning against the house. He sets it up, then gestures for Hannibal to bring Rusty over.
“He’ll go in the crate, so the other dogs can come and sniff and if anyone gets aggressive, he won’t get hurt,” Will explains, taking the leash off and shutting Rusty inside. “I almost never have problems, though.”
Hannibal nods then looks down. “Why don’t you have shoes on?”
Will shrugs.
“It’s freezing out here,” Hannibal says. “You’re not even wearing socks.”
“Fine, I will go put on some socks,” Will retorts, and goes inside. He comes back out wearing shoes, and a jacket because he must have known Hannibal was going to comment on that next. “I’m going to bring them out now.”
Will opens the door and all seven dogs come running out to see the new friend they likely already smelled when Will walked into the house.
“Sit,” Will commands. All seven dogs sit right where they are and look up at him, then peer around him to look at Rusty, who is tapping his feet excitedly where he stands, jumping up and down in the crate. “Rusty, sit.”
Rusty sits too, but all of the dogs continue to wiggle, waiting for Will’s next command. Hannibal watches from a few feet away, leaning against the porch railing while Will leads each dog to sniff at Rusty and meet him. When no one seems to have a problem, Will lets Rusty out of the crate and lets them all meet each other up close.
Hannibal notes that Winston has no interest in meeting the new member of the family, just stays by Will’s side as the other dogs go play in the yard.
“Don’t worry, buddy,” Will says, patting Winston’s head. “You still get to sleep in my bed whenever you want.”
Winston cocks his head at Will, then licks the hand Will extended towards him.
“Good boy,” Will says, then pulls a treat out of his pocket.
“You aren’t good at hiding your favoritism, darling,” Hannibal says, watching the entire thing happen.
Will shrugs. “Winston likes me better than the rest of them do. Buster likes my attention too, but he’s an asshole about it.”
Hannibal laughs. “Yes, he’s quite demanding, isn’t he? I wonder who he learns it from.”
“Uh huh, you’re the needy one, not me,” Will says with a smirk.
“Perhaps,” Hannibal says, defeated. He knows he’s more forward about what he wants than Will is, more quick to pull Will close and hold him, more likely to drive an hour just because he misses Will.
Will whistles loud and all the dogs come running back into the house, Rusty watching his new brothers and sisters to see what the protocol is. Once inside, Will turns on the space heater for them, and they all curl up in different beds, except for Winston, who follows Will to his own bed.
“I’m going to make lunch,” Hannibal says. “Any requests?”
“Could you make more soup? And maybe something to go with it? Your choice,” Will says, settling into bed and pulling his blankets up to his chin.
Hannibal’s glad the fever has gone down and that Will is finally cold. It’ll make him stay close at night, which is a thought Hannibal smiles about as he goes into the kitchen to begin cooking lunch.
Will’s asleep when Hannibal brings in soup for him. He sets the bowls down the nightstand, then puts a light hand on Will’s shoulder and says his name.
“Huh?” Will wakes with a start, then settles again when he sees it’s Hannibal.
“I made a heartier soup today, more in it than the other ones. Instead of making something else,” Hannibal explains, handing Will a bowl and getting into bed next to him with his own.
“Thank you, it’s good,” Will says after he takes a mouthful.
They eat their soup sitting against the headboard, legs crossed as Winston lays at the foot of the bed. When they both finish, Hannibal takes both bowls to the sink and then changes into some pajamas, so he can get into bed with Will.
He’s trying to let himself sleep more, knowing he has nothing to worry about by letting his guard down around Will. Even so, the night before did not bring a great quality rest, with the hospital bed making it hard for him to get comfortable. It didn’t help that Will was quite restless next to him the entire night.
Hannibal pulls the blankets over both of them, and curls up next to Will, an arm draped over his stomach, his face nuzzling into the side of Will’s neck with his nose.
“You’re like a cat,” Will says, then turns to face away from Hannibal, grabbing his arm so Hannibal can lay pressed up behind him.
“Have you ever considered getting a cat?” Hannibal asks, stuck on that comparison.
“I don’t mind cats, but I have eight dogs now.”
“Hm. I like cats,” Hannibal says.
“Why don’t you get one then?”
“My house is not…. decorated safely for a cat,” Hannibal answers. “Maybe one day.”
“A cat would shred up all of your nice furniture,” Will agrees. He yawns, then says, “I’m going to sleep now. No more talking.”
Hannibal laughs quietly, then tightens his arm around Will’s body. He falls asleep after just a few minutes of listening to Will’s breathing.
The rest of the day consists of nothing but eating and sleeping. Hannibal agrees that Will can lay on the couch and watch TV instead of staying in bed, so he lays with his head in Hannibal’s lap. Hannibal lazily pets his head while he does.
Friday, Beverly comes over to see how Will’s doing, and they sit and eat lunch together while Hannibal runs a few errands. Beverly leaves when Hannibal gets back, and the two men spend the rest of the day laying in bed.
Saturday, Jack stops by to talk about a case. He didn’t call ahead of time, so Hannibal has to hide upstairs the entire time Jack is there. Will keeps trying not to glance at Hannibal’s shoes or coat by the front door, or one of his waistcoats draped over a chair. He knows if he glances, he’ll draw attention to them. He hates how he can’t even have Hannibal’s things in his own house without running the risk of someone noticing.
If Jack does notice anything, he doesn’t say a word. Not that Will ever wears waistcoats, but maybe Jack just thinks it’s his. He does have to keep calling Rusty away from the stairs each time he goes near looking for Hannibal.
“Did you get a new dog?” Jack asks.
“Yeah. Picked him up yesterday,” Will says. “His name is Rusty. His family couldn’t keep him so my vet called and asked if I had room for another. He doesn’t quite know he’s not supposed to go upstairs yet, but I don't blame him for being curious.”
“Is that eight now?”
Will nods. He doesn’t push the conversation further, hoping Jack takes his leave soon.
He enjoys Jack’s company, sees the man as a friend, but god is he nervous about Hannibal being upstairs. It feels like he’s harboring a fugitive, which - Will laughs to himself at the thought that he technically is hiding a criminal in his house. Not that Jack knows that, and not that Will even knows if Hannibal is a wanted killer. For all Will knows, Hannibal has pinned every kill on someone else, just as he did with Nicholas Boyle.
Finally, finally Will finds it a good time to tell Jack that he needs to get back into bed to rest, and Jack nods sympathetically.
“Take care, Will,” Jack says on the way out the front door. “I’ll likely stop by again if we find anything else out about this case.”
“You can always just give me a call. If I don’t answer, assume I’m sleeping and I’ll call back later,” Will tells him.
“Of course.”
After that, Jack leaves, and Will calls Hannibal back downstairs.
“I hate this,” Will says once Hannibal is downstairs and they’re settled on the couch, Will’s head in Hannibal’s lap.
Hannibal’s hand stills in his hair. “You will have to be more specific, I’m afraid,” Hannibal says.
“Having to hide. I thought Jack was going to see your clothes, or that Rusty was gonna give you away,” Will sighs. “I know why we have to do it, it just sucks that not even my own house is safe from people showing up.”
“We will just have to give it some time, my love,” Hannibal says.
“Jack’s going to want you keeping an eye on me from a psychiatric standpoint,” Will says. “I’m not seeing a different fucking shrink, I’ll tell you that.”
Hannibal doesn’t say anything, just resumes running his fingers through Will’s hair and massaging his scalp.
“Do you actually not get paid by the FBI for my sessions?” Will asks.
“It’s part of what I get paid for consulting work. There’s nothing that says they’re paying me for your therapy.”
“So you basically just consult on cases with me specifically,” Will clarifies. “So there’s like no ethical boundary being crossed. We’re coworkers that just happen to meet in your therapy office.”
“I suppose so, but you know Alana doesn’t see it that way. Your psych eval was not long ago either. The Bureau would see a problem if we come out as a couple any time soon.”
Will sighs. “I know, I know. I’m just thinking about how stupid it is that we’re in this situation.”
“Mm, I know.”
Will falls asleep with his head in Hannibal’s lap, and after a while, he’s being moved and laid down on the couch. He wakes at the movement, then Hannibal pulls a blanket over him and leans down to kiss his lips.
“I’m going to feed the dogs,” Hannibal tells him. “It’s Saturday. Should I make their food?”
Will knows Hannibal picked up the ingredients the day before, and Will adjusted his recipe card to account for the extra dog, so he nods.
Some time later, Hannibal shakes him awake again, and Will sits up on the couch. He’s given a bowl of pasta and mumbles a thanks as Hannibal sits down on the couch next to him with his own bowl.
“Did you want to take a bath after dinner?” Hannibal asks.
“Will you join me?” Will asks.
“If you want me to.”
Will nods and they continue to eat side by side on the couch. When they finish, Hannibal takes both bowls into the kitchen and Will can hear him washing them.
Hannibal comes back and they both go up the stairs together, and undress when they get into the bathroom. Hannibal starts the water, and gets into the tub, then Will follows, getting in between his legs, pressing his back to Hannibal’s chest.
“Thank you for staying with me this week,” Will whispers. He lets his body relax in the warm water, feels safe with Hannibal’s arms wrapped around him. He always feels so safe with Hannibal’s arms around him.
That first night they shared a bed, Will felt suffocated by Hannibal’s arm, felt pinned down in the bed after his nightmare. Now he needs that. He needs Hannibal’s calming touch when he wakes up gasping for air. Needs it like he needs the air he can’t get into his lungs every single time.
Will intends to keep Hannibal as long as he can, until that frequently sought after touch turns painful. Right now, Hannibal is what he needs, but Will knows Hannibal is a killer, has a penchant for violence. He just wishes he knew how much violence. He hopes the love overpowers it.