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There was a mix, and then a swirl. Dancing and swinging about, in an odd but gracefully unplanned way. The milk had once been separated from the hot coffee, up until this point. Now, now they had become merged; they were one. They were bonded. Will stared thoughtfully at his cup, eyes trained on something other than the doctor clad in the three-piece suit, quite obviously giving the hint that he was watching Will.
"I did not take you to be one to disassociate, Will."
He remained silent. Instead he watched the ceasing movements of the swirled milk. The manner in which the cream-coloured liquid ended its dance.
"I'm not disassociating, Doctor Lecter." Will muttered, turning towards the good doctor. "You should know that."
"I should?" The older male asked reclining ever so slightly, "for reason that I am your therapist?"
Will did not respond, just turned back towards the books neatly stacked on wood shelves.
"That makes sense doesn't it?" Will asked more to himself, than Hannibal.
"In some light of argument, yes."
Will turned fully now towards the doctor. "In some light?" Will gazed sternly at the male. "What other light is there to look at it in?"
"I do not know everything about you, Will." Hannibal retorted, almost amused.
"And yet you try your very best to analyze me every chance you get."
Silence.
"Your coffee will get cold soon."
Once again, the doctor had managed to avoid some semblance of truth by using Will's distractions against him. There was something that nagged insistently at the back of Will's mind and yet no matter how much he wracked himself for the question to which he so earnestly searched for a response, he could not find it.
Will turned his gaze away once more, and focused on something further. He glanced quietly at the paintings hanging on the rich reddish walls. The deep wood colour of his desk.
"The nightmares, Will?"
He turned around fully, once more. "Huh?"
"Your nightmares, are they beginning to recede?" Hannibal questioned, his soft swoop of hair gently kissing his brow.
Will was suddenly very aware of the peppered color throughout the good doctor's hair. Things he had noticed but paid no mind to, the softness of the older male's lips. The way his lean body held itself so regally in the presence of company. The gentle auburn of the therapist's eyes, his clothes, his smug smiles...
Why?
Why was he thinking of this now?
"Will."
He blinked. Then blinked again. He was lost for a couple of moments.
"Yeah?" Will called, almost as though he were somewhere far, far away searching for a voice with no source.
"Are you alright?"
He laughed, because that question was utterly ridiculous. Why would Lecter even consider that? He was a wise and intelligent man, and that had to be one of the stupidest questions to ever come out of this man's mouth. Even if he had never met Will at all, even still any person would realize that he was not 'alright'. Just by glancing at Will, you had to know, right? Freddie Lounds certainly made a point of that and it certainly made a point of screwing up everything he seemed to do with.
"When have I ever been?" He responded, a bitterly amused smile making its way onto his pinkish mouth.
Hannibal sighed. "Your profession requires much more of your mind than most realize."
Will shrugged, "That is true."
Hannibal stood, and held out his hand. Will glanced at it very obviously confused, he glanced at the clock but there were still twenty minutes remaining for his session.
Will stared at him dumbfounded, and Hannibal did not falter.
"Your hand please, Will." The voice startled him, and he obliged with no hesitation. The mere act of obedience seemed to please Hannibal and yet it seemed like something else was pleasing him too.
"Why?" Will managed to mumble, and he turned his gaze to his companion. "Why do you need my hand?"
"Will, I know that it is very difficult for you to go out on that field day after day, in an act of repetition." Hannibal glanced at the door momentarily before looking back at the young man before him. "I do."
Will opened his mouth to say something but decided to wait for his friend to finish. Hannibal gave him a brief look of appreciation before turning to his serious gaze.
"Jack...Jack needs you, yes? He mentions it whenever given psychological advice that points otherwise." Hannibal seemed to digest his words before continuing. "However, Will it seems as though it is taking a toll of great expense on your mental and physical well being."
Will wanted to focus on the words-on the advice. Yet, he could not control the way his mind wandered to the feeling of Hannibal's cool skin against his smaller and warmer hands.
"Are you asking me to stop going out on the field?" Was the only proper sentence that seemed to come out of Will's mouth. And it was a question.
"Will, I am recommending that you consider the possibility." He didn't let go of Will's hands, rather he grasped tighter.
"I can't just not go out there. People will die, I have to be strong for them at least."
"You are not a superhero, despite the information you are constantly fed. You cannot solve all the world's problems." Hannibal stared for a couple of moments before giving a reassuring squeeze, "You are not weak. You are human."
"Who am I helping in that classroom? Sure, there are students and I'm teaching them how to help out but what if I can help out too?"
"Yes, I understand what you are saying, Will." Hannibal's hands slipped from their grip and instead they found themselves at the waist of the young man. "But you must understand what I am attempting to tell you as well."
Will's breath hitched at the contact, an odd feeling to be touched by someone like Doctor Lecter. He felt the surge of electricity that came through him with power and force.
"A-Aren't you asking me to stop working on the field?" He questioned looking up into the eyes of the man touching him.
"For your well being, Will."
There was silence, while he merely relished in the doctor's touch. Why it felt so good to him to be touched like this he did not understand.
He was enjoying a man's touch.
Hannibal Lecter's touch.
A part of him wondered what it meant-if he cared. If Hannibal cared, any if at all about him. Further beyond the limits of Doctor and Patient, testing new waters.
Was that too risky?
Was that even appropriate?
Would it be proper?
Would Hannibal accept?
He felt the familiar flush of his embarrassment at such thoughts, even though Hannibal clearly could not read minds, it always felt as though he could.
A horrifying thought.
But a thought nonetheless.
"Off once again, Will?" Hannibal asked, this time more clearly amused.
"What?" He asked confused and honestly quite embarrassed.
"You seem to be very pensive today." Hannibal noted glancing once more at the clock.
Will stared at his hands, relishing in the feeling of Hannibal's hands against his body. It was odd, he felt the hammering against his chest. He thought about the comfort of being held, of being touched and caressed and reassured. Of knowing that somebody was there for him. Will's arms wrapped softly-warmly against the older male's waist. He pulled himself into Hannibal's chest, and breathed in the scent of his body. A deep woody scent chased by something with a softer hint.
Will couldn't even speak. He was absorbed by the feelings and the scents surrounding him. It was like being high on an indulgence of this man's body.
Hannibal seemed to enjoy the embrace as well. Wrapping his arms tenderly around the younger man's form.
There was a comforting silence, the feeling of warmth surrounded them. There scents mingled, mixing like shared breaths after a kiss.
Hannibal's hair had fallen out of place again, and he seemed not to care in the least.
Why was Will feeling all these emotions now?
What was this man starting inside of him that he could not keep under wraps.
"Will, I am afraid our session is over."