Work Text:
The bed was a sea of discarded plastic wrapping and returns labels. Some of it had drifted onto the floor in his haste to open the packages and see what they contained. If the things inside were to make his heart soar or sink.
He’d saved and saved for this. A vacation with Hannibal was not a simple occasion. His usual clothing wouldn’t suffice and, more importantly, Will didn’t want it to. Extremes were expected - people went on vacation to escape routines and old versions of themselves, even if they had to go back to them when it ended. Will already had more versions of himself than he could count, but here was an opportunity to let them run instead of walk.
It was the idea of a bathing costume which had made him sick with longing. He’d always had to make do with board shorts and tank tops - a compromise made all on his side. Wearing skirts and dresses was easier because people could pretend he was a girl, if they wanted. It gave them an out when they felt uncomfortable with someone who did not fit one, very narrow, label.
It was quite a different matter when the evidence of the sex he’d been assigned at birth was encased in tight spandex and available for all to see. And however much Will had wanted to wear a swimsuit, or even a bikini, he’d ended up deciding it wasn’t worth the hassle it would bring.
Piles grew either side of the bed - for Yes, No, and Maybe (which, in all likelihood, were probably all a No in disguise). When he came to the last parcel, it contained something he’d almost forgotten about.
He’d ordered it in a fit of bravery. Hannibal had promised him a private pool, even a private beach. Much of their time would be spent alone, together, with no one else in sight. Will had dared to dream about the old movies he’d watched with his mom, musicals cast in the bright optimism of the fifties and sixties. He’d imagined the sun going down over the ocean, a rosy glow of light, Hannibal’s skin the colour of golden sand. And himself, cherished in Hannibal’s lap, his kisses warming a weaving line across his shoulders, between the straps of his bathing costume.
With trembling hands, Will opened the parcel, and smiled.
A couple of WIPs
