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Will could do this – had to do this. There was a block in his mind, built by himself over three years away from studying murders and unyielding when Will attempted to tear it back down. He had made the decision to try to understand this Tooth Fairy killer but found a wall blinding his mind's eye. Though Will could get glimpses into the mind of this killer, anything more substantial had Will stumbling backwards. Rejected by his own body; it refused to be subjected to this again. Far more sensible than Will's stubborn determination.
Will was in search of a work-around, a crutch to help him temporarily vault over that wall while maintaining its structure. He was on the clock and Will knew what he had to do, which was why he walked in here to face Hannibal in his cell, FBI file on the Tooth Fairy clutched in his hand. Will knew that he could not betray any form of weakness for Hannibal had been spurned, and was eager to return little jabs at any chink in the armour he found.
Seeing Hannibal in the cell was bizarre. He had been stripped of all worldly possessions that made up his character – fancy suits, lavish furnishing and indulgences in excess. Yet it was still Hannibal on the other side of the glass; nothing could ever strip Hannibal of his nature. That rested solely in the pools of his eyes, treacherous to any trespassers and welcome only for Will to dip his feet in. The lesson to learn was the folly in leading with both feet at once.
Will told himself to not look away, to not fidget. He weathered Hannibal's comment about his aftershave and the letter – the one Will's fingers had traitorously caressed a moment before he cast it into the fire. Hannibal seemed almost jovial despite the distance Will maintained. But Hannibal wouldn't play nice for long.
"Are we no longer on a first name basis?"
"I'm more comfortable the less personal we are," Will stated.
No retort came from that silver tongue, the one that always seemed to know the right words. The silence was as telling as the downward flicker of Hannibal's gaze. Will did not revel in his victory at not being the first to break eye contact. This was not a victory; it was a bitter and painful moment as they ached together for what they knew could never be.
After a moment Hannibal collected himself, questioned the life Will had made for himself. Will had made no attempt to hide any of this from Hannibal, had made no preparations to remove the ring or the clothes that certainly still smelt of home. It was as Hannibal reminded Will of Abigail that Will wondered if, given the chance, Hannibal would tear apart Will's dream, drag him back into their shared nightmare. Will wasn't as naive as he once was, but he couldn't say he knew for sure what the answer was.
Will's lips parted, almost on their own accord as questions and accusations clawed up his throat. Then he hesitated. There was no value in arguing about Abigail any longer. They both shared equal blame or no blame at all, and Abigail was now beyond both of their reach. Though he knew it sounded forced, Will redirected the conversation. "I came about Chicago and Buffalo."
Hannibal acknowledged that he knew why Will was there, looking for help, but that didn't mean it would be given easily. "You just came here to look at me," Hannibal accused. "Came to get the old scent again. Why don't you just smell yourself?"
Will turned his face away, dodging and turning a striking blow into a grazing one. "I expected more of you, Doctor," he murmured as he turned further away, considering the door. "That routine... It's old hat."
"Whereas you are a new man." As Hannibal spoke he took a step forward, pursuing Will's retreat even though the glass wall would stop him in a few more steps. Will stopped and looked back, even though he knew it was exactly what Hannibal wanted. "Are you a good father, Will?" Hannibal asked, and Will read genuine curiosity in his words.
Their eyes met and held. That simple question instantly transported Will back to the time he had sat in Hannibal's office, fire crackling in the hearth and a different sort of intensity between them. It was when Will had thought Hannibal had taken Abigail from him, before Hannibal had given her back – and taken her away yet again. Hannibal had entrusted a piece of truth to Will, telling him about Mischa. In return, Will confessed to dreaming of Abigail, teaching her to fish.
Was Hannibal trapped in the hell of 'what if's alongside Will, wondering how things might've been different? Hannibal seemed to know that Will had become derailed and yet didn't want Will to linger there, drawing him back to the present. "Let me have the file. An hour and we can discuss it like old times."
"Thank you," was all Will could say, grateful equally for the assistance and for the rescue from a darkness he knew not how to fight.
Will began to walk towards the side of the cell where a latch resided, allowing for objects to be passed in and out of the cell when it was no more than the width of an arm. He didn't miss the way Hannibal stalked him along the perimeter of glass, nor mistake the predatory hunger that would always lurk in those eyes when they rested upon Will.
When they were again standing on opposite sides of the glass and Will had slotted the FBI file into the hatch, Hannibal spoke again. "Family values may have declined over the last century but we still help our families when we can." A pause, an internal decision. "You are family, Will."
Will hated that he knew Hannibal well enough to recognize when the goading and the games were being set aside, and when words were being spoken simply for the sake of needing to be heard. Three years away from Hannibal's presence gave Will the space he needed to convince himself that Hannibal was incapable of love, that it was all puzzles and a constant challenge to push each other's limits, find the other's breaking point and take each other toppling over the edge together.
Hannibal had cut into Will's head with the intention of eating him and had torn away anything that was capable of bringing Will happiness. Anything that threatened their relationship. Hannibal was a selfish man, but in this moment Will was forced to remember that that selfishness was born from the most genuine form of love Hannibal was capable of experiencing. Will knew Hannibal as well as he knew himself and there was no lying to himself; not with how entirely they had blurred together.
However, that didn't mean Will knew how to respond, let alone maintain his mask of indifference. Feeling himself slipping, Will turned on his heel and left the room as quickly as he dared without outright fleeing. Even when the door clicked closed behind him Will didn't feel safe. He still felt Hannibal's eyes on him, his essence crowding into the nooks of Will's mind. On Instinct Will did a 360 in the empty hallway, almost disbelieving that Hannibal wasn't at his side considering how tangible his presence felt.
Will faced the door he had just passed through, hand resting on the cool doorknob, and startled when a guard came down the hallway. Apparently Alana had been watching the entire exchange through the video cameras and had sent someone to fetch Will after watching his exit. Will wasn't keen on talking to anyone right then, especially not Alana, but she was the one who had granted Will entry in the first place so he followed behind the guard and into Alana's office.
She asked how it felt to see Hannibal again and Will could only speak honestly, still a little shaken by the whole experience. Even in Alana's office Will had to fight the urge to lower his voice as though Hannibal might overhear them. It was impossible to shrug off the feeling that Hannibal was right behind him, listening and judging, breathing in any truths Will chose not to vocalize. Will hated the fact that a large part of himself missed Hannibal standing at his side, but he understood that there was no other way for the two of them to exist except to want the other's companionship.
To distract himself from that direction of thinking, Will asked Alana about Margot and they discussed the baby, Jack and other affairs of daily life. Alana asked Will about the dogs and Molly and Will appreciated the gentle nudge to remember the life and happiness Will had managed to find for himself after Hannibal's arrest. Will felt more centered at the end of their conversation although he knew he would never be fully prepared to face Hannibal again. Each time he did it was him walking further towards the centre of a frozen lake, never quite certain of when the ice would fail and he would plunge beyond retrieval.
Nonetheless, Will knew what he had to do. Alana did not call him back when Will departed, and Hannibal was seated comfortably at his desk when Will re-entered the room containing his cell. As Will walked closer it was as though he was stepping into another reality. Whether that film over his eyes was falling in place or being pulled back, Will didn't know, but it led to the guise of Hannibal's office surrounding them and Will would not deny the ache that the familiarity brought him.
They spoke together at great length, time unmarked in its passing. Though they didn't leave the room or touch, Will and Hannibal walked side by side through the homes of the murdered families. Will already had what he needed to make his way into the mindset of the Tooth Fairy but Hannibal was the one to coax Will over or around that mental block each time Will encountered it, and keep Will from going astray. Hannibal's voice was in his head as much as his ear, and if Hannibal's body heat was imagined, Will struggled to differentiate.
When Will inevitably returned his mind to the cell, he found himself almost nose to nose with Hannibal. The width of the glass was about all that separated them, and Will thought he could feel the hint of Hannibal's breath through one of the holes in the glass. While Will's eyes had been closed as he visualized the crime scenes, Hannibal's eyes had remained wide open and fixed upon Will, who couldn't bring himself to mind.
"Thank you for the help, Doctor Lecter," Will said after clearing his throat.
"Anytime, Will," Hannibal said in return, and Will could only believe him.
He left entirely after that, truly fearful of what prolonged exposure to Hannibal might do to him. Will offered only a brief thank you and goodbye to Alana on his way out before making a beeline for the main exit and the parking lot. He still felt Hannibal's presence at his elbow and had to forcefully remind himself that Hannibal was still locked up, not sneaking out of custody in Will's shadow.
Will had hoped that it would be a relief to return to his hotel room that evening but as he lay on the bed he realized that he felt more hollow than ever. Phone in hand, Will dialled home and listened to each passing ring. Then Molly's warm voice greeted him. "Hello hotshot. Doing some good?"
A small piece of Will's shattered self slotted back into place and he smiled. "Hoping you'd notice," he said, and then admitted, "I'm lonesome."
"Mm, me too," Molly agreed. "I'm feeling randy."
Will chuckled at the first sense of normalcy returning. "Me too."
"Randy's our new dog," Molly informed him teasingly, and Will laughed outright.
"Oh hell."
"Randy's got huge balls," Molly continued, prompting Will into further laughter. "They always drag on the ground. He has to retract them when he runs. Can you retract yours?"
"Um, I retracted them once when I was a kid," Will said. With the phone still pressed to his ear, Will rolled onto his side facing the middle of the bed. He felt his heart skip a beat when he saw Hannibal lounging on the other half of the bed, propped up against the pillows and reading contently. It took a second to remind himself that it wasn't really Hannibal, and another to rally his thoughts. "I had to clear a barbed wire fence carrying a stolen watermelon."
Molly laughed. "Criminal mind even at that age."
Will instantly stopped laughing, his heart sinking. "I don't have a criminal mind," he insisted quietly.
A heavy silence fell between them as Molly realized her mistake. "Of course you don't," she agreed, apology evident in her tone.
In the same beat of silence Hannibal had closed his book on a finger and glanced over at Will, understanding in his eyes. "One could argue that the term 'criminal' is relative. What one culture may view has horrifying, another might view as a beautiful tradition." When Hannibal reached his free hand over to cup Will's cheek, Will leaned into the caress rather than away.
Knowing Will well enough to tell he was still ruminating, Molly spoke up again with warmth and affection. "You're a very sweet man. I love you, and I miss you," she said. "And you're doing the right thing. It's costing you too; I know that. I'm here, and I'll be here whenever you come home."
Conflicted and guilty now but still feeling slightly soothed, Will gave a small smile which Hannibal returned. "Goodnight Molly." They ended the call and Will set his phone on the mattress, not looking away from Hannibal. "You shouldn't be here."
Hannibal took Will's phone and set it on the bedside table alongside his book, meticulous even in fantasy. Then he moved closer to the middle of the bed and returned his warm hand to Will's cheek. "Do you not want me to be here?"
"I didn't say that," Will whispered.
Hannibal smiled and skimmed his fingers through Will's curls. "Was it good to see me today?"
Will's throat felt full and it was hard to swallow. "Yes," he answered honestly. It had been hard to see Hannibal after so long, to see him with all of his freedoms stripped away and to feel Hannibal's bitterness through his well-aimed taunts. Not to mention the fallout Will was currently experiencing after the visit, being plagued by feelings and fantasies he had thought long since buried and abandoned. "Was it good to see me?"
Their eyes met and locked. "Oh yes," Hannibal hummed as his thumb swept the scar that lingered on Will's forehead. "It is always good to see you, Will."
Will had imagined Hannibal's presence before but it had never felt this real. There was heat in Hannibal's touches, and a true feeling of weight when Hannibal slowly straddled Will on the bed and Will reeled him in closer. A tiny voice in the back of Will's head told him that he was becoming too invested in this fantasy, that he was being both foolish and unfaithful. But when Hannibal lowered his lips and pressed them against Will's own, Will admitted to himself that he didn't want to stop.
Hannibal's lips were slow at first, testing and teasing with their weight against Will's trembling lips. When Hannibal tilted his head and deepened the kiss, Will followed him, sealing their lips more tightly together. At the same time Hannibal's fingers continued to caress Will's hair and Will wrapped his arms around Hannibal's broad shoulders, keeping him close. Will scraped his nails along the curve of Hannibal's shoulder blades and moaned when Hannibal rewarded him with a sharp nip to his bottom lip.
"I will have you, Will," Hannibal proclaimed. "Even if it can only be here and now. Will you be mine?"
"I don't think that's a question that needs to be asked," Will admitted, helping when Hannibal started to strip them both of their clothes.
"I would like to hear you say it," Hannibal said.
Their shirts were set aside and Will felt his cock twitch with interest when Hannibal's hand brushed purposefully against it before undoing Will's belt and sliding it free of the pant loops. Will reached up and scraped his nails down Hannibal's biceps and forearms, feeling the powerful muscles there. Will relished in the red lines left in his wake and Hannibal hummed his approval, not hindering Will's movements until it was time for Hannibal stand long enough to remove his pants and then Will's.
Hannibal returned to the bed, knees denting the mattress between Will's legs which he had spread to make room without thought. They were both naked, scars bared and vulnerable. Hannibal's fingers traced the scar on Will's stomach and Will shivered, allowing the exploration without comment. He groaned when Hannibal leaned over and ran his tongue along the raised scar tissue, the heat of Hannibal's tongue against the sensitive flesh enough to have Will shifting his hips minutely.
Eventually Hannibal licked, kissed and bit his way up Will's sternum and across his collarbone to Will's neck. Will felt tears sting his eyes when Hannibal bit into his neck and sucked, and though Will whined at the pain, he didn't ask Hannibal to stop. Hannibal licked the aching skin when he was satisfied with the mark and Will whispered against Hannibal's hair, "I'm yours."
"As I am yours," Hannibal offered in return, unperturbed by making that declaration.
Will received another kiss to the mark on his neck, and to his swollen lips, and then Hannibal was fishing in the bedside table drawer for lube. With his fingers coated, Hannibal was methodological in the way he pressed them into Will's body. The way Hannibal opened Will on his fingers was slow enough to be the most pleasurable torture Will had ever experienced in his life, and he spread his legs wider in silent invitation which Hannibal accepted greedily.
Will was stretched enough that his ass felt empty when Hannibal withdrew his fingers. He was forced to bat away Hannibal's hand when it reached for Will's erection, knowing he couldn't last with extra stimulation. A quick glance down the length of his body confirmed that Hannibal was in a similar state, his cock thick and hard between his legs. The need to come was consuming and Will was tired of trying to cling to any of his remaining dignity.
"Please fuck me."
Hannibal kissed one of Will's thighs even as he coated more lube along the length of his own cock. "Mmm, while that sounds lovely to hear, you're missing something."
Will tried to focus. "...Please?"
Hannibal smiled fondly and Will's other thigh received a mirroring kiss. "You already said that."
Will remembered Hannibal's comment when he visited earlier in the day about no longer being on a first name basis, and the hurt that it had caused the man. "Hannibal," Will breathed the name. "Fuck me already, would you?"
The rumble in Hannibal's chest could only be described as a purr. Hannibal shuffled closer on his knees and gripped both of Will's thighs with his hands. Although his hands were sticky with lube, neither of them cared. Hannibal had taken time and care when preparing Will and it only took a little shove of Hannibal's hips against the backs of Will's thighs before Hannibal was sliding into Will's body to the hilt. Will moaned as he felt his body stretching to accommodate Hannibal's girth. It felt so good to be filled and, even better, all of Will's pestering thoughts were blissfully muted.
Hannibal fucked Will with smooth, claiming thrusts. He would pull out until just the head of his cock was stretching the rim of Will's ass and then he would push back in before starting anew. The hotel bed groaned beneath them as it matched the rocking of their bodies, but Will was louder. He moaned and panted breathlessly as he angled his hips to take Hannibal deeper, thinking of nothing except the sensations devouring him. The hunger in Hannibal's thrusts, the passion through Hannibal's fingertips bruising Will's skin, the adoration on Hannibal's lips pressed to each inch of Will's skin.
"You feel divine," Hannibal praised as he wrapped one hand around Will's length and began to stroke in time with his thrusts. Will could not string enough words together to respond and merely cried out, eyes clenched closed as his body tensed at the increased pleasure coursing through his nerves. Hannibal was unrelenting, grip tight and demanding and the movement of his hips beginning to lose their rhythm.
Hannibal started to shove his cock into Will's body more forcefully, knocking the air from Will's lungs as he continued to gasp. The smirk on Hannibal's lips when Will began to fist the sheets was equally predatory and pleased, and Will could only bask in it and the way it made him feel like he was catching fire. "Ha-Hannibal," Will huffed. "You need to s-slow down. I can't last."
"My dear Will," Hannibal hummed. It was clear that Hannibal was trying to remain somewhat poised but Will noticed the catch in Hannibal's breath and the flush blooming across his cheeks and Will loved him for it. "The point isn't for you to last, but to surrender."
The growl behind those words mixed with a calculated twist of Hannibal's fist around Will's cock and another inward thrust of Hannibal's length inside him had Will's back arching off the mattress. Will's whole body stiffened for a moment before his cock began to pulse, spurts of come coating his stomach and Hannibal's moving fingers. Hannibal's name tasted sweet on Will's lips.
Hannibal milked him until Will lay spent and pliant on the bed, body loose but clenching in time with his heartbeat around Hannibal's moving cock. Will's ears were ringing from the force of his orgasm, his heart still thrumming against his ribcage. It was like listening to a radio where the only frequency Will could tune into was the sound of Hannibal's laboured breathing but that in itself was addicting; even when Hannibal fought and killed, he barely let himself go enough to show he was winded. Now the honesty of Hannibal's enjoyment from their coupling was on display for Will to watch and judge.
Judgement made, Will reached up and tugged Hannibal down with arms around his neck. Hannibal's hands shot out to catch his weight on each side of Will and the jostling movement had Hannibal buried almost too roughly inside Will's ass. Will clenched again and Hannibal groaned, sweat beading on his forehead. Will brushed aside Hannibal's hair so he could catch Hannibal's gaze, still feeling little sparks of pleasure deep in his gut each time Hannibal hammered against his prostate.
"Fill me, Hannibal," Will said gruffly, both demand and plea to cater to the animalistic nature within them both.
With a final groan Hannibal bodily shuddered as his hips adopted a sharp staccato. Will could feel the sensation of wet heat coating his insides and he shivered at the same time as he canted his hips upward, not wanting any of Hannibal's seed to be stolen by gravity. Hannibal continued to fuck his come deeper inside Will until there was nothing left and he withdrew with shaking limbs, lying on the bed beside Will as they both worked on slowing their breathing.
"Will," Hannibal whispered before wrapping an arm around Will's middle and holding him closer.
"We should clean up before sleeping," Will said, though he didn't move. Reality was beginning to creep back in on his fantasy and he knew that if he left the bed and the room, it was very likely that this imaginary Hannibal would have splintered and disappeared before Will returned. Instead Will sat up only long enough to turn off the bedside lamp before returning to the mattress and Hannibal's possessive embrace.
"In the morning I will make you breakfast," Hannibal promised.
"Don't do that to me," Will chided Hannibal – himself. "You aren't even here." It felt like Hannibal was in bed with him the same way it felt like Hannibal walked out of the room by Will's side earlier in the day. But Will wouldn't let himself get wrapped up in wishful thinking when he knew the power of his own imagination.
"Am I not?" Hannibal wondered. "This feels quite real."
Will sighed. "It always does."
"Sleep for now," Hannibal soothed, pulling the blankets up around them both. "You will come to no harm here."
Already Will dreaded the sound of his alarm jarring him from sleep, knowing what awaited him. A few groggy moments of confusion as Will's hands skimmed over the empty second half of the bed, noting the coolness of the unused section of sheets. The feeling of his heart sinking as disappointment and denial warred inside him and Will scrambled from the bed and into the bathroom. And the painful ache of acceptance when Will would gaze into the mirror and find no marks to confirm the company of anyone other than his own hand the prior night.
But in this moment Will couldn't see the reason to fight this – not when he had fought it for years. Maybe Hannibal wasn't lying beside him but Will knew Hannibal's mind well enough to be certain that this wasn't too far off from reality if he would just, as Hannibal said, surrender to the desire always drawing him back to Hannibal. For now Will indulged in the fantasy, accepting that it felt far more satisfying than anything else he knew. Tomorrow Will would wake up with his alarm, rub at his eyes, and avoid a mirror for as long as possible, living in blissful ignorance to the fact that Hannibal's mark on his neck would be nonexistent.
Will leaned over, kissed Hannibal's lips softly, and then closed his eyes.