Work Text:
Hannibal carved off another thin line of charcoal with his scalpel, honing the tip of the stick to a fine point. Fur, Hannibal found, required a rather deft hand and a sharp point.
He looked up from his work to the three-legged mutt, still laying by the fire. It had taken her the better part of a week to learn the command still, but the dog was eager for praise and strips of Hannibal’s imported prosciutto. Her tail thumped when she noticed Hannibal’s scrutiny. She raised her head, black eyes sparkling with hope of a treat and a gentle pat.
“Still, please.”
The dog dropped her head, resting her muzzle back on her front paw. Hannibal had performed the amputation himself, at Will’s insistence, when they found her, bloody and mud-caked at the side of the road. Hannibal was unhappy that the creature’s golden fur had not covered the scar yet, but Will seemed extremely pleased by the dog’s recovered mobility and intelligence.
“Is the bad man making you sit still again, Bedelia?” Will leaned against the door frame, smiling at the dog. Bedelia’s tail began thumping frantically. She cast pleading eyes to Hannibal, her body tensing.
“Go.” Hannibal said with a sigh.
The dog was up with astounding speed, dancing around Will’s feet. He grinned at her wiggling display, crouching down ruffle his hands over the long fur of her ears and accept kisses from her fuzzy muzzle. Hannibal noted the spike of jealousy he felt at watching the scene before returning to his sketch.
“Guess she missed me.” Will rubbed his chin over the crown of Bedelia’s head. His eyes flicked to Hannibal. “Did you miss me?”
Hannibal raised a brow. “Indeed. The only thing keeping me from wriggling on the floor beside Bedelia is my fear that the weave of my sweater will be damaged.”
Will huffed a small laugh before standing. He walked toward Hannibal’s desk, carefully picking up the pieces of prosciutto and dangling them above Bedelia’s head. “Good job, pretty girl.”
He tossed the meat into the air. It was gone in two snaps of Bedelia’s jaws. She ran from the room, in search of a toy to cajole Will outside.
When she was gone, Will turned to Hannibal. “Not going to ask me where I was?”
“Do you want me to ask?” Hannibal couldn’t smell the scent of cheap perfume or sex, which meant that it had been a shopping excursion which had taken Will away this morning. Will’s trips to town for sexual gratification had stopped in the last few months. Hannibal had begun to trust that Will would return to him, and that eased the burn he felt in his chest whenever Will grabbed his keys and left without comment.
“Nah. I’ll just tell you.” Will winked. He reached into the pocket of his cargo shorts and produced a small box, beautifully wrapped in hand woven paper. Hannibal tilted his head, sniffing at the package. He could smell the paper; the faint sent of lotion, probably from the woman who wrapped it; and the oils of Will’s skin, rubbed into the paper as he worried it in his pocket. “Christ, you’re worse than the dog, just take the damn thing.”
Hannibal accepted the package, testing its weight in careful fingers. It was light – something small or fine, then, perhaps a handkerchief?
Will settled further on Hannibal’s desk, his knee rubbing against Hannibal’s thigh. “It’s not a bomb, Hannibal.”
“That leaves venomous creatures, airborne pathogens, and most disconcertingly, another novelty tie,” Hannibal said with a smile, setting the box carefully before him on the desk. He turned back to Will, who was watching him intently. “Before I seal my fate by opening this Pandora’s Box, may I know the occasion for your generosity?”
“You don’t know why I got you a present?”
“I do not.” Hannibal tilted his head. “Have I done something worthy of praise? I have made an effort to cut back on the fancy ass floral arrangements that make you sniffle.”
Will’s features turned down, disappointment flooding his face. “You forgot our anniversary.”
Hannibal’s eyebrows spiked up before he could quell his surprise. “Anniversary?”
“It’s fine.” Will shook his head, making a grab for the package. Hannibal’s hand shot out to protect his gift. “I just thought you’d want to celebrate.”
“Will,” Hannibal scrutinized the face before him, looking for any sign of fever. The fevered sweetness of the encephalitis was still absent, replaced by the soothing tangy scent that Hannibal had come to associate with the empath. “We went over the cliff in March, not July."
Will scoffed, his cheeks turning red. “Not that anniversary.”
“We didn’t meet in July, either.” Hannibal rifled through his mind palace, trying to find a significant moment of bloodshed or bonding.
“I know that.” Will was beginning to look annoyed, the color deepening on his cheeks as his eyes sharpened. “I can’t believe you don’t know what today is.”
“Would you care to tell me what this felicitous day is commemorating, then?” Hannibal felt his jaw tick. Now, he was being punished for ignorance and that would not be stood for. “Or would you rather spend the afternoon bemoaning my thoughtlessness.”
“I might as well.” Will sneered. “It’s not like I’m getting another present.”
Hannibal’s brain offered him several scenarios. The first, was to drive the sharpened charcoal into Will’s hand. He dismissed it – he was already in enough trouble with the empath. The second, was to snatch a hand into Will’s unruly hair and ravish him on the desk. His brain had favored this scenario more and more as he and Will cohabited, but he dismissed the action as rash and likely ruinous. Still, he filed the scenario away in his mind palace for closer examination, when he was alone in his bedroom. The final scenario was the least palatable, but likely the most effective: Roll over, show Will his belly, and hope for the best. It always seemed to work for the dog.
Hannibal grabbed Will’s hand, if felt clammy. The doctor looked up to see a nervous tension vibrating through Will. It made him uneasy.
“Will,” Hannibal tried to keep his voice soothing. “Please forgive my transgression. Tell me what anniversary I’ve missed.”
Will’s eyes connected with Hannibal’s, nerves replaced by something bright in their blue depths. “Our first kiss.”
Hannibal frowned, dropping Will’s hand. “Will, we’ve never k-”
Will’s lips were lush and slick when they sealed over his. For one moment, Hannibal lost all ability to think and feel, frozen under the pressure of Will’s mouth. When his body finally came to life again, all he could do was gasp, allowing the empath’s tongue entrance to his mouth.
Will’s hands raked through Hannibal’s hair, bending him to his will as he explored. Hannibal could do little more than submit, his mind trying to catalog the feeling of Will’s teeth on his lower lip, his tongue flicking over his. By the time Hannibal could muster the brain power to return the kiss, Will was pulling away. His blue eyes shone as he cocked his head thoughtfully licking his lips. Hannibal blinked when he felt a thumb draw over his spit-slick bottom lip.
“Happy anniversary, Hannibal,” Will whispered, his mouth breaking into a wide grin. He winked and left the room, whistling for Bedelia.
Hannibal was left in his study, hand resting absently on his mouth as he stared at nothing. When his lips became dry to the touch and the scent of Will had dissipated, Hannibal finally turned to the box. It took him a long time to remove the paper, careful to fold the tape and tuck the wrapping neatly in his desk drawer. Inside the box was a strawberry flavored chap stick and a note:
Dear Hannibal,
For next time.
PS: You should see your face.
Will stirred cream into his coffee, watching it turn from black to brown. When it reached the exact color of Hannibal’s honeyed eyes, he stopped, absently touching the spot on his neck where Hannibal had left his mark.
When the doctor had finally shaken his stupor the night before, he had found Will in the back garden, tossing Bedelia her ball. In the most inelegant movement Will had ever seen the doctor make, Hannibal had shoved Will against the house and slammed their mouths together.
He tasted like strawberry chap stick.
After that, the evening was a haze of soft kisses, nipping teeth, and hot mouths. When Hannibal had walked him to his room, stealing one final kiss before whispering goodnight, Will had been disappointed. He laid awake in his bed, hard and restless, smiling at the memory of Hannibal’s lips and the faint smell of strawberries that still lingered in the air.
When he woke the next morning, there was no cannibal with strawberry lips to kiss. Only a full carafe of coffee and a plate of protein scramble in the oven. Will picked at his eggs, tossing bits of sausage into Bedelia’s waiting maw.
The sound of the door slamming had Bedelia scrambling across the kitchen, barking. Will could hear Hannibal admonishing the dog for jumping, then telling her she was a nuisance with a fond tone.
He entered the kitchen holding a large, lavishly wrapped package, placing it before Will with a smile. Will took a sip of his coffee, to hide his grin when Hannibal fished the strawberry chap stick from his pocket and applied the waxy substance to his lips.
“What’s this, then?” Will asked.
“Why Will, don’t you know?” Hannibal leaned forward, Will bit his lips to keep his smile at bay. “Shall I tell you about today’s date?”
Will held up a preemptive hand. “I don’t know what’s in that box, but I feel like I should tell you the anniversary of the first time we fuck isn’t for at least another month.”
Hannibal’s jaw ticked. In one swift movement he grabbed the package and left the kitchen. Will felt a stab of regret. He took a sip of coffee and mused that stabs seemed to come to him in the kitchen.
Before he could come up with a plan to cajole Hannibal back into a kissing mood the man in question appeared, holding his desk calendar. Hannibal offered a pen to Will. “Would you be so kind as to remind me of that date?”
Will’s eyebrow shot up, his mouth quirking into a smirk. He grabbed the pen and circled a random date at the end of August. Hannibal smiled, a real one, filled with crooked teeth.
“Thank you, Will.” Hannibal leaned in and stole a kiss. “If you need me, I’ll be in the study. I believe I have an anniversary celebration to plan.”
Will was left to laugh in an empty kitchen, the taste of strawberries on his lips.