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Really, Hannibal was at fault for the dent in the wall. It was an accident, but still! He shouldn’t have thrown a damn weight at Will’s head.
“You shouldn't have dodged.” Hannibal pants, pointing at the wall.
Will shoots back, “What, and let you give me a concussion? Besides, shouldn't we be teaching me hand to hand instead of blitz? You said yourself that I'm only as good as the police academy training gave me.”
Hannibal shrugged, “I was right. We need to work on your reflexes and self defense.”
Will scoffed, cracking his neck, “I can fight plenty well--” He's cut off with a grunt as Hannibal easily throws him off balance and pins him against the floor with a knee to his chest. He groans, shutting his eyes against the glare of the fluorescents.
“Is that why I got you on the floor in five seconds?” Hannibal asks from above him.
“I'm smaller than you, fucker,”
“Language,” He tuts, standing and pulling Will up.
Will gets vertigo when he's back on his feet. “Oh shit, give me a moment,”
“Are you alright?” Hannibal asks, turning and throwing a water bottle at Will. Will deigns to let it fall at his feet.
“Can you quit throwing things at me?” He leans down and grabs the water bottle from the floor, uncapping it and finishing half of it in two gulps.
Hannibal hums. “You're right. I escalated too quickly.”
Will snarks after recapping the water bottle, “Oh now he admits it,”
Hannibal says nothing and finishes his water bottle, tossing it in the bin and standing front of him. “I want you to let go of your inhibitions, Will. I am nothing more than a dangerous attacker in this moment. Can you do that?”
Will stands, agape. “No?” He responds, throwing the bottle aside.
“And you don't have a problem shoving me every now and then?”
He raises his index finger. “Okay, that's playful shoving with no real malice behind it -- this is different.”
“Or when you had that knife in your hand in Florence?”
“You were going to kill me!”
“Or when you conspired with Jack Crawford to imprison me?”
“It wasn't technically conspiring if I wanted to--”
“--Or when you sent that orderly after me?--”
“--You just killed my best friend!--”
“--Or when you forced me to take you to Minnesota and held a gun to me twice--”
Will waves his hands like he can wave their words away. “Okay, enough bickering!”
“You started it,” Is Hannibal’s placid reply.
“You started-- okay, fine, I'll try to hurt you this time.” Will concedes, wiping his face with the bottom of his tank top, “Okay, what now--”
Hannibal takes him off guard by darting behind him and kicking his knees out from under him. Will folds to the floor and elbows Hannibal’s hip hard. Hannibal staggers back, surging forward again when Will stands up. Will ducks under his arm, striking at his ribcage. Hannibal sweeps Wills legs out from under him and straddles him, locking his hands lightly around Will’s throat. Will taps three times on his arm, sighing in defeat. “You need to watch where your feet are,” Hannibal begins lecturing, catching Will’s fist as he weakly punches at him. He uncurls the fingers and interlocks their fingers, giving pointers for how Will’s punches should look.
“I'd have an easier time if we just did Judo.” Will sighed, not bothering to unlock his fingers from Hannibal’s, “Or TKD. Karate was never one I understood as a kid.”
“Well, you are a blitz predator.” Hannibal huffs, smiling fondly. “And I can't teach you things that you already know, that's not how growth happens.” He climbs off of Will, holding his hand out. Will takes it, letting himself be pulled to his feet again.
Will huffs, rubbing his neck. “Could we try and go slower? Instead of trying to go with the body slamming and things like that?”
“Body slamming and learning how to punch and kick go hand in hand.” Hannibal reminds him, “But we can go with kicking and awareness of where our feet are.”
Will adds, in exasperation, “And give me a damn countdown, would you?”
Hannibal concedes with a silent nod, getting into the right stance. Will copies him, wobbling on the weight shifted between his spread feet. Hannibal waits until he stops wobbling to lunge, sweeping his foot out in an arc that aims for Will’s hip. Will sidesteps and pushes the foot down and away, kicking at Hannibal’s knee. Hannibal readjusts his stance and goes into a roundhouse kick. Will ducks under and sweeps his legs under Hannibal’s, finally getting him off balance. Hannibal falls down to the floor with a thud, landing on his back.
“Oh, shit, I didn't hurt you, did I? Are you okay?” Will scrambles and pulls Hannibal up from the floor, checking him for bruises.
Hannibal chuckles, cupping the back of Will’s neck and leaning his forehead against Wills'. “No, you did just fine.”
“Meaning I hurt you.” Will says worriedly, wanting to pout.
Hannibal's thumb massages the worried wrinkle between Will’s eyebrows, smoothing away the worry lines and calming Will down. “My dear, you don't need to worry. I’m perfectly fine.”
Will quips, “You know, you say that and I don't feel reassured. You're gonna wake up with a giant ass bruise on your back tomorrow and it's gonna be my fault.”
“You beating me is a good thing, Will,” Hannibal coaxes, kissing his nose. “Again.” Hannibal steps away and wipes his face and chest off with a white towel.
Will flaps for a moment. “Again?! What if I hurt you?”
“You won't.” Hannibal assures, squeezing Will's arms reassuringly. “This time, I’m going to lunge at you. You have to push me away any way you can.”
“What? Meaning, like, punching you?”
“Yes,” Hannibal nods, “After this, we weight train, then we eat.”
Will tries, “Can we cuddle too?”
“Yes we can,” He smiles, kissing Will’s knuckles.
Will sighs, a hint of a smile peeking out, “All right, let's get this over with,”
Hannibal gets into the stance again. “Are you ready?”
Will takes a deep breath. “Let's do it.” He prepares himself for Hannibal lunging at him. Hannibal rockets forward, Will redirecting his weight. Hannibal lunges again. Will elbows Hannibal’s chest as he catches his fist.
As Hannibal steps back, “Don't be afraid to kick,” Hannibal tips, running low this time. Will kicks his shoulder with the flat of his foot, knocking him down onto his back. Hannibal does a kip up, shocking Will briefly.
“Okay, you’ve got to teach me how to do that,” He says before Hannibal attacks again.
“Later,” Is his short reply. Hannibal manages to get his arms around Will very briefly before Will strikes at his diaphragm and twists out of his grip, shoving him off and into the wall with a grunt. Hannibal hits the wall hard, hard enough to daze him.
“Oh Jesus, are you okay?” Will asks.
“Yes,” Hannibal answers.
“Are you sure?” He asks, raking a hand through his hair, “More than that, is the wall okay?”
Hannibal scoffs, nose twitching, “Your concern for the wall versus myself is jarring.”
Will snorts, stretching an arm across his chest, “I asked you twice,” he stretches the other arm, grimacing at the tenseness, “and you insisted you were okay. And, there's a dent in the wall.”
“Both are easily fixable,” Hannibal retorts. He rolls his shoulder, sighing. “Would you like to stop?”
Will pauses, thinking it over. “Can we do that again?”
“You liked throwing me against a wall?” Hannibal jokes, moving off the wall and standing in front of Will.
Will snorts at his audacity. “You liked me throwing you into the wall?”
Hannibal shrugs noncommittally, both moving into the stances automatically. “Ready?”
“When you are,” Will answers.
Hannibal swings, Will blocking his hit and aiming a punch at him. Hannibal steps aside, aiming a kick at him. Will ducks under the leg, elbowing Hannibal’s chest when he stands. Will swings at Hannibal, his wrist caught and twisted. Hannibal kicks Will’s feet out from under him, but Will takes him down with him.
“You know, I think we’d have a lot more fun rasslin’.” Will teases from below Hannibal.
Hannibal’s bitter reply is, “Wrestling is not fighting.”
“Isn't it though? I mean, when you think about it, you’re both trying to get one into submission.” Will counters, popping his wrist. He sighs, falling into silence with him. Hannibal huffs laughter, collapsing on top of Will. After about ten minutes of silence Will says, “Aren't we supposed to be fighting?”
Hannibal hums. “We can stay like this for a little while longer, little moon.”
Will scoffed, shoving at Hannibal's shoulders lightly. “You mean when you wanna get up? What about food? Or weights?”
“You don't actually want to do that.” Hannibal says confidently, thumb stroking the side of Will’s ribcage, feeling the fabric against his thumb.
He's stimming.
Will sighs, knowing Hannibal’s right. “Fine, you got me. Come on, I’m hungry.”
Hannibal says quietly, “Just a few more minutes,”
Will knows he's a sucker because he can't resist that tone, but he stays there anyway.
Hannibal breaks the silence now with this question: “Can I have a kiss?”
Will breaks into laughter, cupping Hannibal’s face. “Thank you for asking.” He brings Hannibal’s face to his, kissing him sweetly. He surprises Hannibal by flipping them over easily, him now on top of Hannibal. “Gotcha,” He murmurs with a proud grin, sliding off of him and holding a hand out for Hannibal.
Hannibal grins, taking the hand and letting himself be hefted to his feet.
*
“Do we have to work with knives?” Will asks, tired and sore. “My back hurts and I have mat burn.”
Hannibal says, “Some of the people we subdue will be armed. You have to be able to defend yourself from them.” He shows him a dull knife, keeping it in his hand, “I'd rather I not have to stitch you up again.”
Will replies, wheedling, “But you do it so well,”
“Let me rephrase: I'd rather I don't lose you,” Hannibal counters, looking down.
Will smiles, heart squeezing in his chest for a moment, “Not by anybody else's hand, at least.”
Hannibal shares a shy smile with him too. “Of course.”
“Are we just going to work with dodging them when you fling them at me?”
Hannibal puts the knife down, looking up at Will, “How do you mean?”
Autistic to autistic communication. “Like…” Will gestures vaguely as he tries to convey his point, “you fling them at me and i have to dodge them and block them? Like in that one Buffy episode?” He holds in laughter as irritation very briefly crosses Hannibal’s face.
“Yes.” Is his short answer, a giggle escaping Will at his palpable irritation. “Countdown?”
“Countdown,” Will nods, getting into position.
“Three...two…” Hannibal throws the first knife, blade sticking into the padding and barely grazing Will.
Will hisses, “Shit,” at the proximity. Hannibal only barely missed.
Hannibal nods, Will nodding after. He flings another, Will swiping it away. They do this for a while before Hannibal gathers the knives on the floor and the ones stuck in the padding and sets them back on the tray. “Would you like to try your hand at subduing an attacker who has a knife?”
Will shrugs, eyeing the knife. Its relatively dull, but dull knives are more dangerous than sharp ones. “Let's try it,” He says, cracking his back.
Hannibal winces at the sound and rolls his neck. “Ready?”
“When you are.”
Hannibal chooses to go with punching his chest instead of immediately swiping with the knife. “Remember, your objective is to get the knife away from me and subdue me,” Hannibal says between blows, shoving Will at the shoulders.
“Yeah, yeah,” Will grunts, shifting his body so he could trap the arm with the knife and knee said arm. Hannibal’s too slippery though, and he picks Will up before throwing him onto the mat hard. Will kicks at Hannibal, unable to help himself as he's pinned down and the knife is at his throat. “Damnit.” He sighs, the edge digging into where his beard starts.
“A valiant effort. You did very well.” Hannibal says with pride, smiling down at him.
“Thanks.” Will huffs, unwilling to go down a specific path in his mind, “So once I get good at knives, we go to guns?”
Hannibal’s smile widens. “Very good.”
“It's the logical conclusion!--” Will starts to argue, cut off by Hannibal pressing the edge of the knife slightly harder. He watches Hannibal’s face as the knife digs into the skin, measuring his breathing. Hannibal’s eyes meet his, one staring at the other. Will tilts his head, unsure if he's edging himself away or inviting Hannibal to cut further.
He finds he doesn't mind the knife at his throat.
The room is a holy sort of silent, one that can be broken if someone so much as breathes. “Dull knives are much more dangerous than sharp ones, Doctor.” He says, sucking in a sharp breath when it slides up his neck.
Hannibal clears his throat, “Yes, an oversight on my part.”
They stay like that for a while, broken by Hannibal muttering poetry to himself.
“What was that?” Will asks cockily, smirking when the knife presses harder.
Hannibal begins reciting a snippet of Wishbone. “Do you want it? Do you want anything I have? Will you throw me to the ground like you mean it, reach inside and wrestle it out with your bare hands?”
Will finishes it for him. “If you love me, Henry, you don't love me in a way I understand.”
“I do.” Hannibal says quietly, petulantly, “Love you.”
“I love you too, Hannibal.” Will says, not wanting to jostle Hannibal off him even though his arms might be going numb. “I do understand.”
Hannibal smiles at that, leaning down and initiating the kiss. He moves off of Will’s arms, giving him freedom to touch.
“I’m hungry.” Will says once Hannibal pulls away.
Hannibal rolls his eyes and swats at him.
*
“Hannibal...I think I may be able to outdo you with this unit.” Will teases, staring at the unloaded guns.
Hannibal quirks a brow at him, making sure the gun is unloaded and the safety is on, “They taught you this at the police academy?”
Will huffs and rolls his eyes. “Fine, you come at me your way, I come at you my way. You win, you teach me your way. I win, I skip this.”
“Intriguing.” Hannibal says, holding a hand out for him to shake, “I accept.”
Will smugly replies, “I thought you’d say that,” he grimaces when he sees his shirt is soaked through with sweat, yanking it over his head and mopping at his face.
“Oh, dear. You're not saying I'm predictable?” Hannibal asks sarcastically, trying and failing to keep his eyes on Will’s face (what he can see of it).
Will balls up his shirt and throws it at Hannibal once he notices his partner gawking, saying snidely, “Take a picture, it’ll last longer.”
Hannibal takes out his photo and is very obvious about taking a picture of his shirtless partner, deleting it the very second after it saves to his gallery. “Remembered I needn’t have a picture when you're in front of me,” He quips, putting his phone down and rolling up his sleeves.
Will snickers and rolls his eyes fondly. “Shut up.”
“You’re going to have to disarm me and subdue me first,” Hannibal swiftly replies, taking the gun and holding it.
Will teases, getting ready to fight, “Isn't that how it usually goes?”
Hannibal huffs a laugh, shaking his bangs out of his face. “Ready?”
Will grins, “Are you?”
Both lunge at the same time, Will going low as Hannibal goes high. Will gets Hannibal’s legs out from under him and on his back. The fight’s over in a couple of seconds, Will managing to get the gun out of Hannibal’s hand and in his. Will clambers on top of him, gun below Hannibal’s chin. He cocks his head, barely out of breath. “Well? Did I or did I not prove you wrong?”
Hannibal taps Will’s thigh three times, their tap out signal. Will throws the gun haphazardly to the side, grinning open mouthed.
“You won, darling.”
“I won.” Will confirms, giddy at his victory.
Hannibal sighs, “You’re going to be insufferable for the next week and a half.”
Will shrugs, “Maybe, but you’re into it.” he rolls off him, standing up and getting a bottled water. Hannibal follows him, encircling his arms around Will’s waist and setting his chin on his shoulder, kissing under his ear because it’s what he can reach. “I love you.” Will says to him, nonchalant, “I know I don’t say it that often, but I do.”
Hannibal replies, “I know,” Will rolls his eyes at his cockiness, so Hannibal adds, “I love you too, Will.”
Will chuckles, crushing the water bottle, “That’s never gonna get old.”
“I’ll tell you that everyday,” Hannibal promises.
Will twists around in his arms, nudging his nose with Hannibal’s, “Well, you’re gonna have to get creative with nicknames. Fuck, I should probably start on nicknames.”
Hannibal shakes his head, kissing his partners forehead, “You don’t have to if you don’t want to.”
“Alright.”
“Beside that, I have an arsenal of nicknames.” Hannibal boasts, “My darling, my love, my dear--”
Will laughs. “Anything that doesn’t start with the possessive noun?”
“Little moon.” Hannibal retorts.
“Something not from a Siken poem?”
Hannibal clicks his tongue in dissatisfaction. “I’ll have to get creative with nicknames.”
Will nods, his grin infectious to Hannibal. Hannibal turns his head away shyly, Will grabbing his chin and turning it back to him gently. He kisses the matching scar to his own, taking his hand. “Come on, we have Buffy to watch.”
Hannibal allows himself to be led to lounge on the couch for the rest of the day.