Chapter Text
Feeling restless is not something Will is used to, these days. He’s settled into a strange form of contentment during the past few months, which is more than unusual for any long stretch of time. Today, however, a jittery feeling dances under his skin, and he is unable to relax. With nothing else to focus his attention on at the moment, he ends up sweeping the entire first floor of his home.
There isn’t any reason for it, nothing he can truly blame it on. If he were to examine it more closely, his thoughts would drift to Hannibal, and he won’t allow that. The simple fact is that so many of the empty spaces in Will’s carefully constructed world have been filled by Hannibal’s presence, and part of him still fights that knowledge.
Will sighs, leaning against the wall with the broom still in hand.
The pull between them only grows stronger, and Hannibal has done nothing to discourage it. If anything, he should be the one second-guessing their flourishing dependence upon each other. Will’s not exactly the best candidate to handle anything so intricate and delicate as this.
And yet, Hannibal’s never pursued this closeness between them with anything other than a single-minded focus. He wants Will to be his partner in this strange dance, and wouldn’t settle for anyone else. Will can’t help how much the thought pleases him.
Will looks down, watching as Buster noses at the broom. He takes a bite of the bristles after a moment, unable to help himself. Not unlike Will, unable to curtail yet another instance of questioning himself.
Will sighs, gently nudging Buster away. “Still a mess, just like this place, huh?”
Buster looks up, wagging his tail. Will smiles down at him, then sighs again when he chomps at the broom with more fervor.
“Alright, so much for that.”
He leads the dogs outside a few minutes later, forgoing a jacket. It’s still chilly for it, but even in spring, the open air keeps it from warming too much.
Will loses himself in entertaining the dogs, then sits down on the porch and tilts his head back, enjoying the breeze. He should sweep the upstairs, too. It’s been neglected for quite a long time. He’s neglected a lot, when it comes to his home.
The sudden desire to change that hits him with surprising force. He blinks up at the sky, turning it over in his head.
Well, why not? There isn’t anything stopping him.
Will smiles, rising from his seat. As he settles back inside with the dogs, the restless feeling in his chest begins to lessen. There’s nothing like a little spring cleaning, after all.
He’s airing out the rooms upstairs when he hears the dogs causing a commotion below. He pauses, an old rug that he’d been meaning to get rid of since he’d first moved in bundled up in his arms. A muted knock on the door, and more well-natured barking from downstairs.
Will leans the rug against the wall and wanders over to the window. Hannibal’s car is gleaming in the driveway, but the man himself isn’t visible from here. Will huffs out a laugh, making his way downstairs. He hushes the dogs on his way to the door, running a hand fruitlessly through his hair before he pulls it open.
Hannibal smiles at the sight of him. Will can’t help but to return it. “Hey, what are you doing here?”
“I thought I might intrude upon you this afternoon,” Hannibal replies, tilting his head. “If you are busy, however, I may have to intrude upon the dogs instead.”
Will chuckles, moving aside so that Hannibal can come in. “To be honest, you caught me in the middle of some kind of spring cleaning frenzy.”
“A noble endeavor, to be sure.” Hannibal takes in the state of the first floor, gaze eventually trailing back to Will.
He runs his fingers through his hair again, then ducks his head. “Well, you’re welcome to stay, seeing as you’ve come all the way out here. I just want to finish up what I was working on upstairs.”
“Of course.” Hannibal nods, attention turning to the dogs, who are elated to be acknowledged after sixty grueling seconds of waiting. Will doesn’t think he’ll ever grow tired of the sight of Hannibal greeting each dog with careful consideration. He forces himself back up the stairs somewhat reluctantly.
Will ends up deciding to dispose of the rugs in each room. He’d never been particularly attached to any of them to begin with, and if he’s already getting rid of one, he may as well go the extra mile. He lines them all up in the hallway to deal with later, then sweeps the floors. He’ll have to do a deeper clean later, but that can wait until he has some new rugs to lay down. Or maybe he’ll leave the hardwood floors as they are. They’ll look much better once he cleans them properly.
When he tests the lights in each room, he finds two bulbs blown out in the ceiling fan. Something else he's been putting off. He jogs downstairs to grab the replacement bulbs and is greeted with a wonderful smell wafting from his kitchen.
Hannibal glances up, hands still moving over the cutting board. “I thought I would prepare lunch,” he says. “It will be ready in an hour or so.”
Will is struck with a sudden rush of guilt. “Sorry, I can— I’ll be done in just a minute. Seriously.” He wanders to the closet and retrieves the two bulbs, then raises them for Hannibal to see. “Just changing these. I’ll be right back.”
Hannibal chuckles, stepping away from the counter. He lays a gentle hand on Will’s shoulder and leans in to kiss his cheek. “You may do as you please, I am merely your guest.”
Will’s lips twitch into a smile. “Don’t you ever get tired of that line?”
Before he can answer, Will presses a kiss to his mouth. He’s still holding the light bulbs, or he’d be tugging him in closer. As it is, Hannibal squeezes his shoulder, indulging him.
Will pulls back just a little. “Be honest. Do I stink? I can get a shower before lunch.”
“Whatever would make you most comfortable, Will.”
“If you say you’re my guest one more time, I’m going to hit you. And need I remind you, I’m holding fragile materials in my hands.”
Hannibal cups his face. “Go finish up.” His thumb strokes along Will’s cheekbone. “I promise to serve you a plate, no matter what you smell like when you come to the table.”
Will laughs, knocking his forehead against Hannibal’s. “You’re terrible. You could give a guy a complex.”
Hannibal shifts to press his nose to Will’s hairline. He tenses for just a moment, then relaxes. He’s pretty sure Hannibal would tell him if he really does stink. Besides, he hasn’t offended his own nose yet. Still, he’s aware that Hannibal has a much more sensitive sense of smell.
He receives a kiss to his forehead, and then Hannibal is pulling away. “An hour,” he repeats, then drifts back over to the stove. Will takes it as his cue to leave.
He bounds back up the stairs, changing the bulbs in record time. After a lingering glance at the rugs rolled up in the hallway, Will begins the task of carting them outside one by one. He can feel Hannibal’s eyes on him, all the while. He considers teasing, but Hannibal is cooking for him, after all. And it’s not as though Will doesn’t like it.
With that task completed, Will slumps onto the couch, where he can now watch Hannibal instead. He’s pleasantly surprised when Hannibal joins him a few minutes later, a warm hand on his knee as he sits down.
“I didn’t think anything could pull you out of the kitchen,” Will says, raising an eyebrow.
“It will be a half an hour,” Hannibal murmurs. “Besides, I found my attention drawn elsewhere.”
“Did you, now?” Will asks, delighted. He’s still grinning when Hannibal leans in close. Kissing Hannibal never fails to ignite something inside of him. Hands blessedly free now, he winds one into Hannibal’s shirt, the other clasping their fingers together over his knee.
“You are an utter distraction,” Hannibal breathes. Will wants to tell him the same, but he thinks Hannibal gets the gist when he presses their mouths together again. Hannibal’s fingers slide through his hair, cupping the back of his head. Will sinks into the back of the couch, Hannibal moving with him.
They’re not quite able to detach from each other, not fully. Hannibal attempts to pull back but Will remains where he is, comfortable and relaxed. Hannibal strokes his cheek, tender, and simply looks at him. Will gazes back, leaning into Hannibal’s hold. The corners of Hannibal’s mouth curl upward, and Will closes his eyes in contentment.
He might be drifting off a little. Hannibal trails his hand further down, a light touch, fingers running over Will’s jaw. He’s not sure how much time passes before Hannibal shifts away more deliberately.
Will catches him by the shirtsleeve. “You said another half an hour,” he reminds him, eyes still closed.
“Yes,” Hannibal says, eyes twinkling when Will meets his gaze. He pries Will’s hand away and presses a fleeting kiss to his wrist. “I just need to check on it,” he adds, rising from the couch.
Will watches him walk off, unable to hold on to his displeasure. He follows Hannibal’s movements through the kitchen, confident and assured as always, and finds his eyelids drifting closed.
He doesn’t see Hannibal come back.
When Will opens his eyes again, it's hours later, and Hannibal is nowhere to be found. Well, that’s not quite right; he’s visible in the drying dishes on the counter, the leftovers piled neatly in Will’s fridge, the filled bowls for the dogs. They aren’t scrambling to go outside, either.
Will wanders out of the kitchen, calls, “Hannibal?”
Nothing.
The Bentley is absent from the driveway. The sight chips away at something in Will’s chest.
He half expects to find a note lying around. It seems like it’d be Hannibal’s style to do something like that, but there’s nothing. Just little signs of his care and attention in each corner of Will’s home.
He sighs, retrieving his phone to type out a short message. After a pause, he deletes it, dialing Hannibal’s number instead.
“Hello, Will,” he answers on the third ring.
Will’s lips twitch in a smile. “Hey.”
“I trust all is well?”
“Sure,” he murmurs, glancing back to the kitchen. “Sorry for passing out.”
“There is no need to apologize,” Hannibal replies smoothly. “Have you eaten?”
“No.” Will bites his lip. “Please tell me you ate something and didn’t just pack everything away while I was unconscious.”
That gets a soft chuckle. “Don’t concern yourself, Will. I am fed and rested for this evening. I hope you may soon say the same.”
Not quite an answer. He could have simply eaten upon returning home.
Will sighs. “Yeah, I’ll have some in a little bit.” He slides down on the couch. “I saw you fed the dogs.”
“Indeed. I was not sure how long you would remain asleep.”
Will closes his eyes. “Thanks. I—” Further words seem to die on his tongue.
A few moments pass in silence before Hannibal has mercy on him. “I assure you, it was no trouble. It was a pleasant afternoon, Will.”
“Taking care of my dogs?” he asks drily.
“If I overstepped, I apologize.”
Will shifts uncomfortably. “Don’t apologize. God.”
Why had he called to begin with? He should have just sent the short message and left it at that. Since waking, he’s felt off balance, and this call is only adding to his agitation.
“I have never minded taking care of your dogs, Will, nor spending time with them. Nor have I ever minded the same with you.”
Will’s stomach rolls over itself. “You think you need to take care of me?”
A long pause. Hannibal exhales softly. “It appears I have not fully left behind the habit of misstepping when I speak.”
This is ridiculous. Will doesn’t know why he’s letting everything press his buttons, why he’s trying to lead them into an argument. He taps his fingers over his knee.
“You didn’t have to leave,” he says finally.
The following silence feels very loud. He stills himself, smooths his palm flat on his thigh. The source of his agitation becomes glaringly clear, to both of them, and Will can’t come up with another way to twist it.
“I did not consider it an option,” Hannibal says carefully.
“I have a bed,” Will says, half appalled at himself as the words leave his mouth. “I wasn’t using it.”
Another pause. “I did not consider it.”
Will’s breath leaves him in a rush. “Of course not, why would you?” He stands up, suddenly restless. “Sorry, I’m still kind of tired. I don’t know why I’m trying to pick a fight with you.”
“I don’t believe you are trying to do so,” Hannibal says kindly. It only makes Will feel more embarrassed. “I am certain you would put forth a better effort than this, if you were.”
Will snorts. “Anyway, let’s just forget the past five minutes. I’m going to eat now. Any particular reheating recommendations for me?”
“I trust your judgment.” He can hear the smile in Hannibal’s voice. It helps soothe his nerves.
“Okay. So, thanks.” He starts making his way to the kitchen. “And good night.”
“Good night, Will.” There’s a lingering note to the silence between them that has Will pausing with his hand outstretched toward the fridge. He waits with bated breath.
“Next time, I will consider it.”
Will grips the door handle, heart stuttering in his chest.
“I don’t plan to pass out on you again.” He can’t bring himself to say anything else.
“I will consider it, all the same.”
Will leans his head against his hand. “Good.” He licks his lips, knuckles pressing into his own skin. “I want you to.”
Behind his eyelids, he can envision the darkness of Hannibal’s gaze on him. He shivers.
The tension lingers, stoked pleasantly by Will’s racing heart in the ensuing silence. Will doesn’t want it to end.
“I endeavor to never disappoint you.” Hannibal’s voice is but a low rumble.
What a thing to say. Will bites his lip and breathes out softly. “I don’t know how you could.”
“I am glad to know of your confidence in me. Even so, I shall not grow complacent.”
Will can’t help a smile. He leans back, rubbing a hand over his mouth. “How very stalwart of you, Doctor.”
“Ah. Back to Doctor, once again.” The hint of feigned chagrin has Will’s smile widening.
“Well, it is your title. You worked very hard for it,” Will replies, able to refocus on his initial task of retrieving the leftovers.
“As have you.” Hannibal pauses briefly before adding, “Agent.” Another moment's pause, then, “Professor.”
Will laughs. “I can’t remember you ever calling me anything but Will. Even in the beginning.”
“I would not wish to call you anything else,” Hannibal says warmly. Inexplicably, Will feels his face heat.
“I should eat,” he says after a beat too long. His thoughts are still half lost in those early days. Hannibal had so quickly fallen into calling him by Will. His normal regard for politeness and the observance of social niceties leaves Will wondering if he’d truly meant for their relationship to be something more personal from the start.
“Indeed,” Hannibal replies. “I will allow you to prepare your meal in peace.”
“Thanks.” He fiddles with the plate he’s just placed on the counter. Thinks of next time, when Hannibal might consider staying.
“Good night, Hannibal,” he murmurs.
Hannibal bids him the same. Will’s thoughts remain scattered until he sits down to eat. The food, as always, is simply too good not to afford his full attention.
He smiles, placing his fork down after a few more bites. Covers his eyes, sighs, and lets the little bubble of joy in his chest expand outward. It still hits him at random intervals, the unlikelihood of this beautifully surreal thing he’s managed to build with Hannibal. He finds himself more and more thankful, each time, even as he struggles to grasp it, like water running through his fingers.