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Will comes to slowly, lights blurring, head aching. Wherever he is he shivers from where he’s laid on concrete flooring. His wrist and ankles burn tied together with thick rope, hands wrenched behind his back for a more difficult escape.
As the world begins to sharpen around him he makes out foreign voices. He can’t be sure but they sound angry. A violent shiver shakes his body, clacking his teeth. Will groans, attempting to maneuver himself up away from the chilled floor. Voices raise around him, pain blossoms in his ribs as a foot collides, sending him back to the floor.
“Stay.” An accented voice orders in English. Will glares up at the figure peering down at him. A man with cropped hair and a broad jaw looms over him. The man raises a brow, chuckling. “You’re going to be a fun one, aren’t you?”
Will sneers, earning himself a kick to the head. He hits the ground hard, black pulling at his consciousness once more.
“Darko!” The voice cuts through the air like a knife.
Will rolls onto his back, spitting blood to the floor. He catches a glimpse of the man and his heart stops. “H-Hannibal?” It’s barely a whisper but it’s all he can muster. Both men turn to look at him, conversation faltering.
“What was that?” Hannibal asks, looking far too amused with the situation.
“Hannibal.” Will’s back to glaring.
“Who the fuck is Hannibal?”
“You’re—” Will chokes, blood running down his throat. Hands are on him, manhandling him into his side so he can breathe.
“Not him?” The man supplies. Will nods, taking precious gasps of iron-filled air. The man hums, apparently satisfied with that revelation. More foreign words are exchanged and Will is left alone with the man. His gut twists, not eight months ago another man with a similar face had gutted him. Now he is left alone with someone with the means for kidnapping. Fantastic.
“You look like a scrappy one, darling. If I untie your legs are you going to kick the shit out of me?” The man still looks amused by the situation. Will shakes his head, better to play nice. For now anyway. “Good.”
Will hears the telltale click of a pocket knife, some uncomfortable pulling at his skin, and his ankles are free once more. His feet tingle with numbness, fire shooting up his legs as they awaken.
“Thank you.” His fingers itch to soothe the burning in his skin, flexing against their bounds.
“Welcome, darling. Now, I’m going to ask some questions. Answer honestly and I’ll see what I can do about getting you out of here. Got it?”
“Yes.” Will breathes, shivering once more.
“Why are you in Romania? Looking for your… what is he, your boyfriend?” Will scoffs, feeling the phantom pull of a knife in his stomach.
“Not quite.” Will clears his throat, “But yes, I was looking for him.”
The man pulls out a knife, twisting it in his fingers. “This was on you.” He crouches down, blade too close for Will’s liking. Will stares the man down, unwilling to back down. “Were you planning on using it when you found him, or me, that you found instead?”
Will is silent for a moment, considering. “Yes.” He finally breathes.
The man nods, apparently satisfied. “Scrappy little shit.” He snorts, “Hope he fucking deserves it, gorgeous.”
“He does.” Will bites out. The man nods, mulling the information over. “Satisfied?” Will asks, ready to get out of this country.
“Mostly,” The man’s still smirking at him.
Will hears the steel of a door creak. Dull footsteps on concrete. The man turns his attention to their visitor, conversing. From the way the man’s eyes keep flicking back to him, Will would assume he is the subject of their conversation. The man turns back to him with a frown.
“You’re FBI?” The man asks.
Fuck. Will takes a slow breath willing his heart rate to slow.
“He asked you a question, American.” The short-haired man says expectantly.
“I’m retired.” Will answers honestly. There’s a kick to his stomach, Darko’s patience clearly running thin. “I swear,” Will gasps out, “I wasn’t even an agent. I was a teacher!”
“Were you? All this talk about Lecter says otherwise.” Darko points out. “One quick Google search tells me you’re lying.”
“I’m no—” Another kick to the ribs, “lying” Will grits out. The two Romanians exchange a look, one Will isn’t fond of. “I sometimes consulted on cases if they were stuck, that’s all.” He finishes quickly. Will would raise his hands in defeat if they weren’t bound.
Will is left with his own thoughts as the men exclude him from the conversation. His breath comes faster, unable to slow his thoughts. He closes his eyes in an attempt to block out the noise. He should have stayed in Virginia. He can hear the obituary now. Will Graham, who traveled across the globe for vengeance only to be found dead in a basement. He jumps when a hand cups his cheek. The man is crouched in front of him.
“Are you going to let me go?” Will’s voice is rough, annoyed. The man hums, considering.
“Can’t right now, darling.” The man’s voice is soft, thumb stroking Will’s cheek.
“I don’t even know who you are,” Will counters, eyes narrowing. He considers biting his finger off.
“Nigel,” The man supplies. “And now you know my fucking name, you have that and my operation.”
“Fuck the FBI.” Will groans.
Nigel chuckles at that. “Fuck the FBI.”
In one swift motion, Nigel scoops Will into his arms. He carries him into another room one that at least has a bed. Nigel lays him on his side, freeing Will’s hands. The relief from his shoulders is instant. Will moves them a bit to relieve the ache. Nigel sits on the edge of the bed.
“Here’s what’s going to happen. I’m going to leave you here unchained and you’re not going to try to fucking escape. If you do, I don’t care how fucked your pretty little wrists will be, cuffs will go back on. Understand, Will?” Will is startled by hearing his name come out of those lips. He nods. Nigel pushes the hair out of Will’s eyes. “Sleep.” Will knows it isn’t a request. Nigel stands, turning to leave. he hesitates at the door, “This wasn’t supposed to fucking happen, darling.”
The door shuts with a chilling bang, leaving Will alone.
Sleep comes for him, dark tendrils pulling at his consciousness. Will dreams. He dreams of blood and a splitting pain. He dreams of a daughter that he doesn’t have the power to save. He dreams he’s drowning, suffocating, lungs filling with iron red.
Will jolts awake, shaking. Gasping breath after breath into strained lungs. Movement catches his eye and he jumps to a defensive position.
“Nigel?” Will relaxes back slightly against the headboard. Nigel is lounged in a chair in the corner of the room, cigarette dangling from his fingers.
“Can’t get anything past you, darling.” He smirks, taking a drag.
“Don’t patronize me.” Will spits. Nigel lifts his hands in mock surrender. “Why are you watching me sleep?”
“Heard you scream. Thought you might have hurt yourself trying to get out.”
“So you thought you’d pull up a chair and enjoy the show?”
“Was it about him?” Nigel asks, ignoring the jab. The room drops into an eerie silence. Will swears Nigel must be able to hear his heart pounding. Nigel hums, “He really has you that fucked.”
Will laughs in disbelief. Because yes, he is completely and utterly fucked. His head drops into his hands. He wants to go home and forget Hannibal ever existed.
“Come on,” Will peaks through his fingers to see Nigel holding his hand out to him. Will cocks his head in confusion. “You need a fucking shower, Will.”
Against better judgment, Will reaches for Nigel. Allowing himself to be pulled to unsteady feet. Nigel steadies him, hand bracing under his bicep. He’s led out of the basement and through dark rooms with old furniture and peeling paint to what he assumes is Nigel’s bedroom. Will takes the towel that is handed to him and is ushered into the en suite.
“I’ll get you clean clothes,” Nigel says, retreating to the bedroom.
“Thank you.” Will almost flinches at how tired he sounds, his voice void of all emotion. He was exhausted, worn to the bone. How he longed to be curled up in his bed with his dogs lying at his feet.
“Oh! And gorgeous, fucking try anything and I’ll let Darko handle this from now on.” Nigel leaves him, closing the door between rooms.
Will shivers. If that were the case he would still be bound, no doubt in the same spot he had woken in hours ago, if he were still alive at all. He has no doubt Darko would rather kill him to ensure his silence than take whatever approach Nigel seemed to deem a good idea. Will was still lost as to what that approach was.
Shaking his head, he turns the shower as hot as he can stand it, letting it warm his chilled bones. Water tinged pink seeps down the drain, tainted. Will feels a scream building in his throat, he refuses to let it out. His forehead presses against the tile wall, tears falling from his eyes, mixing with the filth at his feet.
He doesn’t know how long he stands there, immobile before a knock rings at the door.
“Still alive, gorgeous?” Nigel’s voice is muffled by wood.
“Yes,” He sounds strained, hopes Nigel can’t make it out through the door.
“I’ll leave your clothes here.” Will hears the door open then shut quickly again. He wraps his shower up fairly quickly, washing what is necessary.
Stepping out of the shower will eyes the clothes. Nigel left sweatpants and a button up with dogs on it. Will chuckles and wonders if he knows.
Nigel’s not waiting when Will exits the bathroom, the man nowhere to be found. The room is illuminated by a lamp on the bedside table, a pack of cigarettes and a lighter lying beside it. It’s still dark outside and the shower and warm clothes have calmed him. Will lies down in the bed, content to wait for Nigel here, not wanting to risk running into Darko wandering the house. Will makes himself comfortable. Wrapping himself in the blankets. Privacy of his captors be damned. Nigel’s scent surrounds him, a particular woodiness laced with sex and cigarettes. Will dares to feel safe here in this bed, wrapped in the sheets and clothes of a man he barely knows. He drifts off to someplace quiet. Someplace void of blood and pain. For the first time in months, Will sleeps restfully.
Harsh sunlight wakes him, piercing through the window pane. Smoke twirls through the light rays. Will’s blood turns to ice, remembering whose bed he is currently occupying.
“Morning, gorgeous.” Nigel drawls, taking another drag of his cigarette.
Will shoots up, flipping around to face the other man. Nigel’s resting against the headboard, legs crossed nonchalantly, scrolling through his phone with one hand, cigarette in the other. He raises his eyebrows, “That scary am I?”
Will huffs, flopping back into the sheets, unamused.
“Fucking dramatic this morning.” Nigel chuckles. “Now that you’re up, you need to eat.”
“Nope, not hungry.” Will protests, pulling the pillow over his head.
“The fuck you aren’t, I’m making breakfast.” Will feels the mattress decompress as Nigel leaves. Sighing, he pulls his head out from under the pillow finding Nigel to indeed be missing. Reluctantly, Will pulls himself from bed and follows the Romanian into the kitchen.
Nigel’s eyes find him as he enters the room. “I like you in my clothes,” he muses.
“A little forward for someone who has kidnapped me, don’t you think?” Will leans against the countertop
“We’re both stuck here. Might as well make the most of it, darling.” Nigel looks too amused and Will takes a centering breath.
“Don’t you dare say you’re stuck here.” Will snaps. “You are here because of the choices you made. I am here because I was in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
“What about those people your boyfriend killed, fucking wrong place wrong fucking time?”
Will pinches the bridge of his nose, “He’s not my boyfriend. And what about you?”
“Me? What about me?” Nigel flips whatever he is making, clearly unfazed by Will’s outburst. Will grips the counter a little tighter, fingers turning white at the knuckle. Whether it’s with fear or frustration, he’s not entirely sure himself. Perhaps a little of both.
“You’re not innocent,” Is all he says. Nigel’s brown eyes find his own. They shine like honey in the sunlight. Will fights not to rip his eyes away. Sighing Nigel sets the spatula aside.
“No, gorgeous, I am not. But that’s not what bothers you is it?”
“No,” Will breathes. Nigel steps into his space crowding him against the counter. Will's breath hitches, betraying his indifference. Nigel’s hard glazed eyes bore into his, like he’s daring Will to make the first move.
The front door creaks open. Will panics, shoving against Nigel’s chest in an attempt to push him away.
“Well, sorry to interrupt the wedding.” Darko snorts. Will stands frozen against the counter as the men switch languages. Will would guess they were arguing but the corner of Darko’s lip pulls up every few seconds. For such a serious man Will wonders what their conversation must entail for him to look anything but stern.
Nigel returns to his skillet with a huff, giving a dismissive wave over his shoulder. He finishes cooking breakfast, depositing an omelet onto a plate.
“American enough for you?” Nigel asks, offering the plate. Will inspects the food curious if Nigel is vindictive enough to put something in them. Cautiously he takes the plate, helping himself to a seat at the small wooden table. Will takes a hesitant bite, surprised to find the food not appalling.
“It will have to do,” Nigel nods, apparently satisfied with that answer. He cleans the dishes as Will engulfs his breakfast. He isn’t entirely sure how long it has been since he last has eaten. At least a day if he were to guess.
“Fuck, darling, you’re going to choke. Slow down.”
“Wouldn’t that make your job easier?” Will deadpans.
“Keep it up and you’ll find out.” Will feels a surge of electricity run up his spine, part of him would like to know. He takes the last bit of courage he has left, levels Nigel with a glare, and says,
“Make me.”
Nigel drops the spatula in the sink, laughing. “Shit, gorgeous, you’re a treat.” He dries his hands and turns toward Will. It’s impossible to miss his erection through his sweatpants. Will swallows dryly. Fuck.
Nigel approaches him swiftly, grabbing ahold of Will’s shirt collar, dragging him to his feet. Will smirks, nearly nose-to-nose with his captor. It always astounds him how easy it is to rile this type of man.
“Is this what you wanted?” Nigel’s voice is low, rough. “Did you like it when he hurt you? Controlled you?” Will’s stomach twists. Yes. He would never admit it aloud but some part of him enjoyed it.
Nigel makes a satisfied noise, bringing a hand to wrap around the back of Will’s neck, holding him in place. Will’s hair stands on end. He rips himself out of Nigel’s grasp, nearly flinging himself to the floor with the effort.
“Will?” Nigel’s voice fades as he scrambles to the bedroom. He can’t breathe, gasping for what little air he has left. He feels like he’s sinking, vision going black at the edges. He can’t hear past the blood rushing in his head.
“D-don’t, please.” He chokes out, “Don’t hurt her.”
He’s faintly aware of the warmth encompassing his body, he feels weightless for a moment.
“Darling, I got you. It’s just me. He won’t hurt you here.” Will shivers, feels a blanket being pulled tighter around him. Nigel strokes his fingers through Will’s curls gently, soothingly. Will’s faintly aware he’s been pulled into Nigel’s lap, head tucked under his chin. A sob chokes out from his throat, burring his face further into Nigel’s chest, his warmth.
“You’re safe here,” He repeats, reassuring. “No one will hurt you here.” Will nods, tears hot and damp against Nigel’s chest. He makes an effort to calm his breathing, fisting fingers into soft cotton. “Would you like a bath?” Will nods, hands holding tighter as Nigel attempts to pull away.
“Don’t leave me.” Will loathes the desperation in his voice though Nigel only chuckles, guiding Will’s legs around his hips. He’s carried into the en suite to start the water. Nigel sets Will on the edge of the tub, faucet turning on with a squeak. Will lies his head against Nigel’s shoulder, still mildly shaking. “Stay?” He asks quietly.
“I don’t think we’ll both fit, but I’ll stay.” Nigel cards his fingers through Will’s hair. Will nods against his shoulder. He sighs, pulling away and beginning to undress. He finishes and lowers himself into the bath, warm water surrounding him, swallowing him up. The tub isn’t huge and he has to bend his knees to fit but it’s calming here, sitting in the warmth and quiet with Nigel by his side.
“You’re not what I expected,” Nigel whispers, breaking the silence.
“Aren’t I?” Will turns to look at him, water sloshing dangerously toward the edge. Nigel turns away, lighting a cigarette, exhaling smoke through his lips.
“No.” Is all Nigel says.
Will settles back against the tub, sighing. Fuck it. Will steals Nigel’s cigarette taking a long drag, smoke and nicotine filling his system. Will chokes, coughing like it’s his first time. Nigel laughs, a deep, full body sound.
“Fuck.” Will coughs out. Nigel laughs even harder, nearly doubling over, head in his hands, elbows propped on the tub.
“Shit, gorgeous. First time?” Nigel chuckles. Will doesn’t miss how Nigel’s eyes soften as he looks back up at him. A Traitorous tongue peaks out to lick his lips.
“Been awhile,” Will smiles, handing the cigarette back to Nigel. Will settles back into the tub, closing his eyes, practically begging his body to relax. He’s faintly aware of Nigel’s hands on him, of being washed. Eventually, Nigel says,
“Did he give you that?” Will peaks up, Nigel is staring at the scar marring Will’s stomach. Will exhales a shaky breath, nods slowly. The silence is deafening, Nigel glaring at the puckered, red skin.
“Cunt.” Nigel spits out. Will meets his eyes, they’re nearly black with rage. “No wonder you’re a scrappy bastard.” Will huffs a laugh, a short, emotionless grunt.
“I think I’d like to finish eating now.” Will states, staring at his knees.
“Okay, darling.” Nigel grabs Will’s towel, holding it out for Will to step into. Will pulls the plug in the tub and steps out into the waiting towel. Will wraps it tightly around himself. Will’s heart skips a beat, he holds his breath and leans into Nigel’s chest. It feels like forever passes and then Will feels strong arms slide around his back, one resting around his middle and the other holding Will’s head to his chest. Will lets his breath out slowly, exhale turning into a sob. Nigel hushes him, petting his hair.
Will slowly relaxes against him, hands falling from the towel to fist in Nigel’s shirt. Will pulls back looking at Nigel. His eyes are soft, but not sympathetic. Good. He can’t do sympathy. Not today.
Will stretches up, pressing a kiss against velvet lips. He hears Nigel hum and then he’s returning the kiss, softer than Will would have expected. Nigel seems to have no qualms about taking his time, gradually opening Will’s mouth with his own. It’s intoxicating, to be kissed like you’re wanted.
Too soon Nigel pulls away, pressing their foreheads together, both of their breathing elevated.
“I’ll heat up the rest of your breakfast.” Nigel’s accent is thick. Will nods, shivering slightly. He dresses and follows Nigel back out to the kitchen. Fortunately, Darko is nowhere to be found. Will doesn’t know if he could handle his commentary at the moment. Whether it was disapproval or amusement he was still unsure. Will picks at the rest of his breakfast, eyes wondering where Nigel has flopped onto the sofa, mindlessly scrolling through his phone.
“Don’t you have work or something to do?” Will asks, amused.
“Darko’s covering the bullshit for me today.” Nigel glances at him, a smile breaking over his features. “Someone has to keep an eye on you, gorgeous.”
“You’re keeping an eye on me, alright.” Will rolls his eyes.
“You don’t seem fucking bothered.” Nigel snorts.
“No.” Will chuckles, “I guess I’m not.” It’s hard to be bothered when Nigel is one of the few who has treated him like a human being rather than a science experiment. He wasn’t a good man, Will had no doubts about that, but after Hannibal, Nigel seemed like an angel in comparison.
“You know gorgeous, I think I could get used to this.” Will meets Nigel’s honeysuckle eyes. Nigel’s smile turns devious.
“Yeah.” Will chuckles, “Me too.”