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Thursday, 18:46
The smell of a not quite too long worn shirt perturbed Hannibal's nose, though he loved the underlying smell of Will. For a long while he stared at the piece of clothing lying on the couch. His fingers twitched to remove the mindlessly discarded piece of clothing. No, he wouldn't. Sooner or later Will would notice and take care of it himself.
The kitchen was better. No piece out of place. Hannibal took a calming breath. It always made him feel grounded to stand in his perfectly organised kitchen, ready to start preparing dinner.
Slicing the meat, seasoning it to meticulous flavour with a soft caress, artistically preparing every ingredient that would highlight his dish. It was wonderful to feel such control.
The shirt decorating a chair made his eye almost twitch when he placed the plate in front of Will. No reaction came past his perfected control though. Patience was the key. Will's empathic abilities would surely let him realise how much those tiny imperfections bothered him and they'd be gone soon.
When Will went upstairs, shirt still lying forgotten in the living room Hannibal remembered that he had wanted to do the laundry this evenying.
Friday, 7:15
Hannibal stared at the coffee cup greeting his first step into his almost perfectly organised kitchen standing next to the sink. The dishwasher was opened a bit, mocking him with it's visibleness. It seemed like it was laughing at him, but Hannibal was aware that that was just his mind taunting him. Patience was the key. Pointing out someones mistakes wasn't nearly as easy to accept for the other person as realising it themselves was. Realising something yourself added no sting of reprimandation and was therefore much easier to accept. Hannibal was a predator and if there was something he had learned it was waiting patiently. Though every other sense in him seemed to try strangling the shirnking piece of patience. His will was strong. He had managed to wait for Will to accept the gruesome and bloody beauty for what it was and he could wait just as long for Will to realise that he couldn't leave things lying around and wait days before removing them.
Opening the dishwasher showed Hannibal that it was nearly full and had just enough room for Will's and his mug before it had to be activated.
Friday, 16:54
It had been raining the whole day, transforming every piece of soil in it's wake into a puddle of mud. Hannibal hurried to get the groveries inside the house before the paper bags soaked through.
The opened front door revealed a trail of dirt leading into the living room where Will rested on the couch sleeping, an angelic smile tugged around his lips. Hannibal didn't wasn't sure which urge was stronger. Touching the smile on Will's face with his lips or smothering him with the pillow lying on the floor.
Something dripped from the grocery bag and Hannibal hurried to the kitchen. He needed to clean that up lest it left stains in the wooden floor.
Friday, 21:33
The feel of Will's skin beneath Hannibal was heavenly. Nothing in the world came close of being able and allowed to touch Will and drag those unearthly sounds out of the man's flesh. Feeling heat and neediness beneath his every finger but Hannibal's nose was assaulted with the smell of a hard days labour and he had no clue as to how to make his keen smell go away for a few blessed minutes.
Saturday, 7:02
The reflection in his mirror stared back at him blackly, no emotion mirroring it's emotions after it had seen the few tiny pieces of stubble darkening the perfect white of expensive ceramic. Hannibal's blank face mirrored the landscape of his mind perfectly. He didn't know how to react anymore. Will's empathy had be the end of the tunnel, the salve on his brain to tame his perfectionistic side and lead it to less violent, no, impatient waters. Hannibal was well aware of the fact that there would be no one like Will ever again and he'd never let his negative emotions get the better of him again.
There were a few stubbles on his face. He would need to shave before going downstairs.
Saturday, 7:21
The dirty shirt lying on the couch was the last straw. His piercing gaze settled on the man sitting next to it.
"Will, I'm neither your housemaid nor your wife." His eyes wandered to the offending shirt and Will turned his head slightly to see what had caught Hannibal's attention. Will's lips twitched the tiniest bit in amusement and Hannibal had to be no empath to know what went through the other's mind.
He could practically see the mental check list. Cooking. Cleaning. Doing the laundry. Decorating the house.
Nostrils flaring, Hannibal turned around to go check if the laundry was already dry. He would not take the shirt with him.
"Please wait, Hannibal." Will's hand curled around his wrist, gently urging him to turn around. "Sorry." The small smile threatening to take over Will's mouth said that he was anything but. Surely Will would be able to live with a few digits less. Hannibal could cook them like chicken wings.
Dark curls tickling his cheek cut off Hannibal's line of thought and Will gave him a small, chaste kiss on the mouth.
"I was just curious what you would do when I messed a bit with your cleaning kink." The mischievous twinkle in Will's eyes suited his handsome features far too good.