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Will stumbles as he leaves the restroom, nearly tripping and smashing into a group of women talking amongst themselves. He looks around, trying to gain his bearings. Where is Bev?
He'd only come out to the club with her to make her stop needling at him. He works too much, according to her, and when he told her that he spends plenty of time fishing or tinkering in his shed, she'd told him in no uncertain terms that those things 'didn't count as fun', for whatever reason. So Will had surrendered, and gone out with her to a loud, smoky nightclub. He'd actually been having a pretty good time, not that he wanted to admit it. Drinking fruity things with cheesy names, dancing and laughing with Bev. It was nice.
Right up until it wasn't.
Maybe those little cocktails were more dangerous than he thought, because Will feels fucking wasted. And he knows he only had a few, because he was planning on driving home at some point. But he's barely standing. His body is heavy, his vision trailing behind when he moves his eyes in a nauseating blur. His limbs don't want to obey his commands, even simple ones like 'walk back to the bar and look for Bev.'
When was the last time he saw her? Just a minute ago, right?
"Bev?"
It's too loud for anyone to hear him. Fuck, he's going to pass out at this rate. How did they get separated? He can't remember the last thing he said to her.
Through a haze, he pulls his phone from his pocket. He can't seem to focus on the screen, though. Blindly, he opens his recent calls and redials one, hoping it's Bev.
The dial tone is miles away. Will presses the phone to his cheek. Tries to make his wobbling way toward the exit. He needs to sit down. Needs fresh air. Needs to... think.
"Hello, Will."
He groans to himself. "Doctor Lecter?" He slurs. "Fuck, 'm sorry. I was trying to call... um, Bev."
After a moment, Hannibal says "Are you alright?"
Will tries to laugh. It doesn't sound quite right. "I'm drunk, I guess."
"You guess?"
"Yeah. I haven't... had much to drink, though. But I'm—" He leans back against the nearest wall, staring up at the ceiling. It's spinning. "I don't feel right, Doctor Lecter. Something's..." He doesn't realize he's trailed off until the other man is speaking.
"Will." He sounds serious. Urgent. "I want you to try your best to focus for me, okay? I'm going to ask you a few questions."
Will closes his eyes, hoping that the dizziness will lessen if he can't see. It's worse.
"Will."
"Yeah," he mumbles. "Yeah, okay."
"Good. Now— are you experiencing any drowsiness?"
"Yes. God, I'm fucking... yes."
Hannibal hums in thought. "Any heaviness in your limbs?"
"Mhm."
His voice climbs as he lists more symptoms. "Nausea? Dizziness? Gaps in your memory?"
Will swallows, but his throat feels dry. "You sound freaked out. I'm not... dying, right?"
Hannibal sighs, and Will can hear movement on his end of the line. "I think you've been drugged, Will."
He opens his eyes, trying to scan the club for threats, for Beverly— where the fuck is Bev?
"Y-you think somebody roofied me?" Will asks, and his gut twists.
"It sounds that way, yes. You're experiencing all of the telltale side effects of Rohypnol use."
The sensation of panic attempting to set in through the fog feels alien, his instincts too sedated to get the message of fear from his brain. "Fuck. W-what do I do? Should I make myself throw up?"
"If you're already feeling the effects this severely, it's likely too late." Will hears a door close through the phone. "What is the name of the bar? I'm on my way."
On his way? "It's in Baltimore," Will assures him. "It's called... M-Mirage, I think."
Hannibal is quiet for another moment, and Will wonders if he's surprised to hear that Will is at a Nightclub.
"Are you alone?"
"Bev came with me, but I can't... I don't know where she went. I don't know... when I lost her, or—"
Will blinks. He's in a car. It's moving. It's not his car. Sluggish and scared, Will feels too paralyzed to struggle or fight. Helpless to do much more than watch the street lights pass in surreal streaks outside the window.
"Where... where am I?" he asks, and his tongue feels like it's too big for his mouth when he speaks. Every inch of him is unbearably heavy, like he should be sinking through the floorboards by now.
He's more or less resigned himself to a grisly fate when a familiar voice speaks beside him.
"We're nearly there, Will. Just sit back and relax, you're perfectly safe."
He manages to loll his head enough to look at Hannibal, though it takes longer than it should. "I think I blacked out for a while," he says softly.
The other man is frowning hard at the road. "I'm taking you to my home, so that I can look after you until the drugs have left your system. Do you remember that?"
"I don't," he confesses, though it's comforting to know he won't be alone tonight. "Do you... did I ever find Bev? Is she okay?"
"She was with you when I came to pick you up. She seemed perfectly well, if a bit tipsy. I stayed until a cab could arrive to take her home, though. Just in case."
Will lets out a heavy sigh of relief. "Good."
A car with their brights on drives by then, and Will groans at the pain behind his eyes.
"Easy, Will," Hannibal soothes. "This will all be over soon enough."
Will snorts. "Sounds like somethin' a murderer'd say."
"I assure you, I have only your well-being in mind."
"I know," Will says, and he shuts his eyes. Tries to focus on the conditioned air blowing in his face and the hum of the other man's car. "I know."
He's not sure how many minutes pass before Hannibal stops the car and says "Let me help you inside." Will lets him pull his limp body from the passenger's seat. They stumble up to the door, Will like a marionette on rubber bands rather than strings. Eventually, Hannibal deposits him in a guest room. Will doesn't resist when his jacket is tugged off, but he does make a low, curious sound when the other man starts removing his shoes.
"I'm only taking these off so that you can sleep," he soothes again. "I'll be checking on you periodically throughout the night, and I'd like it if you stayed awake long enough to drink a glass of water. Do you think you can manage that?"
Will blinks down at Hannibal, kneeling between his feet as he unties his bootlaces. "I'll try."
Hannibal smiles, and Will sees it a few times over. "Good," he says, and sets Will's shoes aside. "I'll fetch it for you."
Hannibal checks his vitals as he sips at the water, drowsy and half-present all the while. It occurs to him that Hannibal really should have taken him to the hospital, but he's privately grateful that he didn't. The idea of being in a bright, unnerving hospital sounds much worse than being where he is now, in this or any other state of mind.
"You should be alright once you've slept this off," Hannibal says at last, gently taking the mostly-empty glass from Will's clumsy fingers. "Though as I said, I'll likely be back in a few hours to reassess."
Hannibal moves to flip the light switch, lingering a bit in the doorway.
"Get some rest, Will, I'll-"
"N-no, wait," Will blurts. He tries to reach out, but barely succeeds at lifting an arm. "Don't go."
Hannibal tilts his head. "Why not? Are you alright?"
He huffs. "I just... I'm scared, okay? 'm scared, an' I don't wanna wake up and be by myself."
Hannibal's face changes. If Will was sober right now, he might be able to guess at the other man's feelings. He hesitates before he says "You can sleep in my bed, if you like. I won't leave."
Will just nods, but the motion feels like knocking his brain against the walls of his skull.
He lets Hannibal take his hands, lets himself be guided through the darkened house. He frowns at the wavering shape of the staircase, knowing beyond doubt that he won't be able to get up them without hurting himself.
"...I don't know if I can—" The rest of his sentence dies as Hannibal effortlessly gathers Will's body in his arms. He cradles Will close, carried like a bride as he begins to climb the stairs. Will thinks he hears Hannibal's breath catch when he presses his face into the other man's neck, but he doesn't get a chance to think about it before his eyes are slipping closed.
He wakes up to light pouring in through curtains and fingers carding gently through his hair. He stirs, groaning softly as he becomes aware of his overwhelming grogginess.
"Good morning, Will," Hannibal nearly whispers, stopping his ministrations the moment Will moves.
Will grumbles senselessly in response, nuzzling further into the warm plushness beneath his head. It isn't until he feels hair against his cheek that he realizes where he'd been sleeping.
He attempts to dart away, but the wave of nausea brought on by the sudden movement just makes him groan again, still only hovering inches above Hannibal's bare chest.
"It's alright," Hannibal says again. "You're safe. Just relax."
Will falls onto the mattress, shutting his eyes tightly.
"How do you feel?"
"Bad," he bites, pressing the heels of his palms hard against his eyes. "I feel like I took a fucking beating."
Hannibal is silent. When Will dares to peer up at him with one cracked eye, he looks distressed. Enraged. Like he's barely holding himself together. "What?"
"Someone drugged you last night."
He sighs, shifting in Hannibal's bed. He'd been more comfortable pressed to the other man's chest. "I know, I was there."
Hannibal's fingertips make him shiver when he brushes Will's bangs away from his face.
"Do you remember who might've done this?" He asks, voice feather gentle.
Will finds himself leaning into the touch, drifting over his temple and down to his cheek. "I don't know. My memory of last night is pretty spotty, to be honest."
Hannibal frowns, taking a slow breath. The anger in his eyes gets politely tucked away, for safe keeping.
"Well," he sighs. "I suppose the important thing is that you're alright." He looks Will in the eyes, searching. "You are alright, aren't you?"
Will breaks. Without another word he rolls back into Hannibal's hold, letting out a shuddering breath when Hannibal welcomes him back into his arms. His hand returns to Will's hair, gently scratching at his scalp.
"...Can I stay here today?" Will asks, his voice horribly small in the room. "I know you have patients you need to see, but—"
"I'll take the day off," Hannibal replies immediately. "I don't have any patients today who couldn't handle missing a session. I'll stay here, with you, Will. You won't be alone."
Will nods, pressing his nose to Hannibal's collarbone. "Okay. Thank you. And thank you for last night, too. For coming to get me. I don't want to think about what could've happened if you hadn't."
"Of course," He replies, but his voice is tight, strained. "I'm glad you called me."
Will yawns, fatigue and comfort threatening to overtake him.
After a few minutes of silence, Hannibal's arms fold closer around him, and Will feels a soft, lingering kiss against his curls.
"I won't let anything take you from me, Will," Hannibal whispers. Will suspects that Hannibal thinks he's asleep but the conviction in the sentiment overwhelms him. He drifts off again, feeling safe and secure in Hannibal's embrace.
Two weeks later, Will consults on a new case. It's largely suspected to be the Ripper's doing— all the trademarks are there, but there's one major difference that keeps Jack from being sure. The Ripper always kills his victims while they are awake, sober and lucid, so that they can experience every moment. This victim, though, appears to have been sedated prior to his mutilation. Trace amounts of Rohypnol, likely ingested about twelve hours before death. Long enough that the victim would have been conscious but groggy, heavy and fearful as he realized the gravity of his fate. Fitting, since he'd been convicted of sexual assault before.
If Will makes a sudden connection, there in the morgue, when he learns that fact—
Well, no one needs to know.