Work Text:
“I know what it's like to be a stray.” Will remarks, the corners of his mouth twitching minutely upward. His gaze is not fixed; it wanders the room.
Hannibal purses his lips. “You can relate to abandonment.” It is said as a statement, but Will perceives it as a question. He nods and exhales a shaky breath.
“I enjoy looking after them, assuring them that they have a home.” Will continues.
“Dogs are great companions, Will. It doesn't surprise me that you like providing a comfort to others, both human and canine.” Hannibal's eyes narrow. He crosses one leg over the other. “Would you say that looking after these strays makes you feel needed?”
Will's hands clench into small fists. “I suppose.”
“Do you think they serve the same purpose for you?”
“Do I need dogs?” Will asks, voice hitching. He doesn't answer.
A few moments pass between them, fire crackling in the hearth.
Finally, Will breaks. “I'd like to go home now.”
He spends that night curled on the floor, surrounded by his dogs. His head is propped with a pillow, and a book lies in his lap.
He runs his fingers over Winston's fur and scritches lightly behind his ears.
Will does need them, perhaps even more than they need him, to feel any amount of stability.