Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Bone, sharpened and plucked from the hanging corpse in front of him stood out as the first thing Will saw. The body hung on the back of a door with the victim’s legs twisted at the knee until they were pulled from socket. Both heels faced the ceiling as the bottom half of both legs were broken free from their ligaments and tendons. The arms were mirrored in the same way, wretched around from the elbows and instead of pointing up, they were twisted down to touch the corresponding heels from their legs. The rest of the body was battered beyond recognization with deep lacerations on both the abdomen and lower back. Long and slender, yet deliberate cuts trailing from the shoulders down while leaving the face perfectly devoid of all harm. The killer had deliberately opted not to mark their face.

The smell that came from the level of decomposing was dizzying to Will. He already had a headache to begin with that throbbed behind his temples with every beat of his heart, and the smell wasn’t helping. The grizzly sight had him looking away as his vision swam in front of him. His glasses were snatched off his face in favor or jamming the heel of his palm against his eye until he saw a burst of color. It briefly cut through the static in his mind until he picked up the sound of footsteps approaching. It didn’t take advanced empathy to know who was looming beside him.

“Will, what do you make of this?”

The tension in Will’s neck only grew as he straightened, glasses forced back onto his face. “A horrible way to die,” he rasped.

A glare met his words that had Will nearly shrinking away from the man beside him. “You’ve been standing here for twenty minutes like you asked and no one has disturbed you, and that’s all you can give me?”

“That’s all I have for now, Jack.” Will shuffled back away from his boss, gaze averted toward the victim as he tried to place distance between himself and Jack. “If you want better answers, maybe ask the forensics team.” He wished he could’ve snapped at Jack, to tell him what he really thought, but history had proven that rarely worked and would just leave the two at more odds than they already were at. Will pleaded to the universe to offer him a way out, anything to get Jack away from him for at least a few moments.

As though someone had actually listened, Will felt another presence move around him. He looked up and felt himself relax as he recognized the familiar three piece suit and determined way the man carried himself. Will was almost embarrassed at how relieved he was to see him.

“Dr. Lecter, I didn’t realize you would be joining us,” Jack broke in when he caught sight of the psychiatrist veering close to the victim.

“I was in the area visiting a patient when I saw the commotion.” He crept ever closer to the body, much closer than he usually would and seemed to pause right at the severed carotid artery. His head tipped back just a fraction, lips parted and eyes hazy as he studied the body.

Will had never seen Hannibal voluntarily that close to a victim before. Often times he seemed to keep his distance until he was certain he had to close that distance. Every step that he took was deliberate in a way that Will had never known anyone else to do. He was calculating, precise in everything he did. However, there was something about this time that had Will intrigued as he slipped in stride behind him.

Jack huffed to himself, hands shoved into his front jacket pockets. “Come and find me when you have something,” he ordered with a stern look to Will.

The profiler gave a timid dip of his head, the space he occupied feeling smaller and smaller the more that Jack lingered. When he finally set off in the other direction, Will found himself drawn toward Hannibal. It wasn’t often that he couldn’t tell what others were thinking, but he had never seemed to be able to make his way into Hannibal’s head.

The closer he came, the more he noticed the subtle nuances that piqued his interest. “Doctor,” he began with a stiff dip of his head. “I didn’t expect to see you this early. If I didn’t know any better I’d say that you were following me.”

“I do have other patients that I see to. My schedule happened to open up to allow me time here,” Hannibal responded, voice thick with his accent. Although it was easy to pick up on Hannibal’s accent, there was something now that seemed to make it that much stronger.

Will hummed to himself. “I’m sure Jack will love your insight. Goodness knows he’s not overly fond of what I have to say so far.”

“Unable to trust the process?”

“More like unable to trust me.” Will’s jaw tightened as his gaze flickered across the small space to where Jack was deep in hushed conversation with a few other FBI agents. “He doesn’t see why there has to be a process and that I should just know this information. It doesn’t work that way.”

Will was half expecting Hannibal to offer some kind of insight, but instead the good doctor turned sharply to his side, fist raised to his face as his shoulders shook with a barely contained, “Hsish!”

The sound was direct, sharp, though not overly loud. In fact it could’ve been easily overlooked if not for the fact that Will had been standing so close. He had half a mind to ignore it until Hannibal turned back around, this time with his head directed towards his elbow instead.

“Hishs! Hishsh! Hishtsh!” The final sneeze had Hannibal reaching into his pocket for a crisp white handkerchief, monogrammed with what Will assumed was his family crest. One sneeze could be ignored; three could not.

“Did you just sneeze?”

Once the words were out of his mouth, Will realized how foolish it was. There was no backing down from the question once he asked it. His fingers immediately began to tap against one another as he waited for the answer.

“It’s of no matter,” Hannibal replied swiftly as he tucked the handkerchief back into his pocket. “Now, where were we?”

It was almost embarrassing how easily his mind flipped back to the body, to it’s broken and twisted limbs that made it seem like the victim had been folded forward. It was an array that Will felt he had seen before, but not quite in this manner, and certainly not where the face was left totally void of all trauma.

“They haven’t been identified yet,” Will started as he cleared his throat with a soft cough. “At least, not that I’ve heard. The wounds are deliberate as if they were fully thought out and then applied to the skin. Now others….” An image of a brutish weapon flashed in Will’s mind as he saw a tear of flesh followed by the blood curdling scream. It reverberated in his skull and it wasn’t until he felt hands take his and give a firm shake that his eyes opened to see the deep mahogany tie front and center until a head came down into view.

Will swallowed hard and ripped himself away, hands instantly coming up to brush his own forearms as he fought for breath.

“I did not mean to startle you,” Hannibal began. “I feared you were wading too deep.”

“Seem to be doing that a lot lately.”

Hannibal tipped his head in understanding. “Perhaps that is something we can discuss later this evening?”

It took a moment for realization to dawn as Will twisted his wrist to eye his wristwatch. “Damn, I totally forgot about that.”

Hannibal discretely produced the handkerchief and dabbed under his nostrils. “Are you unable to make it?”

“No…no, I…..” Will pinched the bridge of his nose, spreading his fingers outwards until they rested in the corners of his eyes. His headache from earlier had increased with a resounding passion and it didn’t seem to be going anywhere anytime soon. “Shit. With this and the other case Jack has me overseeing and teaching has just caught up with me a little.” A wave of exhaustion rushed over him as he lifted the back of his hand to his mouth to stifle a yawn. “I’m fine.”

Hannibal hummed to himself as he took another step forward. They were in each other’s personal bubble and while that would’ve ordinarily sent alarm bells ringing in Will’s mind, when it came to Hannibal, he almost relished in that closeness. He would never voice his feelings, especially when he didn’t fully understand them. Hannibal didn’t need to be pulled into his fucked up life anymore than he already had.

The moment Will looked into Hannibal’s eyes, he recognized the faint light of frustration. It was blinked away in a moment, so quickly Will had to question himself that he actually saw it or if it was his imagination. He couldn’t exactly trust his own eyes as of late.

“Perhaps tomorrow after a goodnight’s sleep would do us both well,” Hannibal suggested.

Will didn’t have the strength to point out that sleep would not be in the cards tonight, as it never really was. There was no point in stating the obvious, especially when he didn’t want Hannibal to read too much into the situation.

“Yeah, p-probably,” Will stammered as he looked over his shoulder at the body. “And I have a lot of work to do tonight.”

Hannibal drew in a calculated breath. “Then, I’ll leave you to it. If you do have a change of heart with your appointment for the evening, don’t hesitate to call.”

It was heartfelt, that much Will knew. Hannibal never said or did anything that he didn’t mean, and although he had stressed his cancellation policy in detail with him, there had never been a time that Will felt Hannibal would enforce it. He didn’t often try to abuse it, though with the way he felt things were going both in his mind and life, it was sometimes difficult to plan for.

Will was hardly aware he had nodded until he heard Hannibal’s sensible shoes on the uneven floor. A hand came up to scrub his left eye as he tried to turn back to the body in front of him. He was just about to reach out and lean on the wall beside him when something white and crumpled caught his eye on the floor. He closed the distance between himself and the object and it didn’t take long for him to realize that it was a handkerchief, and not one that belonged to the scene. The monogrammed family crest was another dead give away, especially as it was not saturated in blood like everything else in the room seemed to be.

Despite the grossness Will felt he should feel, he didn’t hesitate to pick up the object and turn his attention to the door. He managed to duck under some crime scene tape and slip past fellow investigators, even able to tiptoe past one Jack Crawford in pursuit of what direction he expected Hannibal’s car to be. He ignored his name being called and didn’t bother to try and decipher who it probably was. Instead, he had his sights set on only one thing.

It was easy to find Hannibal’s car as it stood out from the other police vehicles and modest cars that some of the others drove. There was only one that seemed to be worthy of him, and that was what Will decided to pursue first.

Will came up to the driver’s side door, and before he could make his presence known, he watched Hannibal bow forward with three sharp bobs of his head. Strands of grayish blonde hair fell forward into his eyes, swiftly forced back into place when Hannibal drew back. His nostrils glistened with moisture as he fumbled for his jacket pocket. A quick search came up empty, a deep crease settling in his brow.

Thinking it was as good of a time as ever, Will lifted his fist and gave a soft knock on Hannibal’s door.

Hannibal’s head snapped around as a hand instinctively came up to cup over the lower half of his face. “Will,” he murmured as he rushed to pop open his door with his free hand, a look of abashed surprise on his face.

Will couldn’t help but chuckle awkwardly as he lifted the handkerchief. “I think you may have dropped this,” he stated as if it wasn’t obvious.

Hannibal was quick to snatch the cloth from Will’s hands and lifted it to his dripping nostrils. Will wouldn’t go so far as to say it was humiliation, but this was more human that Hannibal had ever appeared to him before. It was oddly comforting as Hannibal had seen Will in plenty of human situations. Hell, his whole life was basically a blow to his dignity.

“Dr. Lecter, are you alright?”

Hannibal lowered the cloth from his face and fixed Will with a harsh glare. “I am perfectly fine.”

Will may have believed him if not for the whooping coughs that followed. It nearly bent the psychiatrist in half, elbow lifted to his face to contain the deep hacks. They resonated deep in his chest and brought with them a slight wheeze on each exhale. Will could only silently observe until Hannibal surfaced, lips pressed in a tight line.

“You don’t sound fine.”

“It is only a mild virus.”

“Mild? I don’t think so. That cough sounds deep and I can hear that wheeze from here. You should be home resting not at a freezing crime scene.” Will shuffled from foot to foot, the familiar and restrictive movement soothing and helped the words find their way to the surface. “Let me drive you home.”

Both Hannibal and Will seemed surprised by his offer, with Hannibal quickly shaking his head. “I appreciate the offer though I am perfectly capable of driving myself.”

“I’m sure you are, but you don’t need to.” Will felt as though he was digging himself a hole, one that he would struggle to crawl his way out of. “It’s a long way back and it’s growing dark. One more coughing fit like that and you could end up in a ditch.” He gave a brief pause, tipped his chin just enough and blinked his eyes slowly. “Please, Doctor. I can help.”

While not expecting Hannibal to refuse, Will couldn’t say he wasn’t surprised by the ease it took to make Hannibal change his mind. He wasn’t sure whether he should be impressed with himself or not, though realizing what Jack would have to say on the matter caused him to immediately deflate. He could hear the seasoned profiler in his ear, demanding that Will come up with what had happened and why the killer had chosen this victim. Any thought about the case practically had Will vibrating in frustration with the shifting of his feet doing nothing to help with that sudden unease.

“Let me tell Jack,” Will finally announced as he turned on his heel to return to the crime scene.

Hannibal watched him go intently, clearing his throat against the post nasal drip. Will Graham taking him home hadn’t been near what he had expected, but that didn’t have to be a bad thing. He could study him more closely when both of their guards were down, in a much more casual sense. Sure, his thoughts were not as crisp as he would’ve liked, the looming fever causing more than just aches and confusion. However, it made him feel that much closer to the man that he found himself studying. He couldn’t explain it logically, the pull to him something deeper than longing.

He needed to be be connected to Will fully, to consume him for all intents and purposes, and this could be the way to do it.

Chapter Text

A small hand tugged on Hannibal’s arm, cold all the way to the tips. He looked back to see the small child beside him, whimpering with tears falling from her eyes. Her dress had been torn and her calf showed visible signs of blood. Dirt was smeared on her face and shoes as though she had fallen head first into a puddle. Ordinarily that may have meant a hard day of play. Unfortunately, it was anything but.

Hannibal reached out to his sister just as a dark figure loomed behind her. He lunched forward a moment too late as his sister was ripped away, her scream cut off as a hand struck out and covered her mouth. Enraged, Hannibal sprang forward only to be met with a much larger man who shoved him back easily into the snow. Cold dampness seeped into his thin clothing, more jarring than the blossoming pain he felt in his wrist. Tears stung the corners of his eyes as his shoes scraped against the ground as he attempted to stand.

A scream tore from him as he saw his sister crying out for him, scratching at her captor as she reached out to him with her free hand. He shouted her name until a fist collided with the side of his face. He sagged back in the mud, pain exploding through his jaw and eye socket. Hot tears burned in his eyes as he bared his teeth in the beginnings of a snarl at the sneering man above him.

“Hannibal! Hannibal!”

Hannibal watched as his sister was drug away, her worn shoes dragging in the murky snow. Her torn dress billowed in the chilled air and Hannibal shivered despite himself. His fingertips sunk into the hard ground as he cried out for his sister until his voice cracked. They couldn’t take her! They could do whatever they wanted with him, but he could not let any harm come to her; he just couldn’t!

A hand suddenly grasped his shoulder and gave a resounding tug. He spun on a dime, elbow cracking against something solid. The resulting outcry was familiar and brought with a wave of an emotion that Hannibal didn’t often experience. He blinked his eyes furiously to see a man hunched over, a hand clamped over his nose, crimson liquid leaking down his face. A cough rattled through Hannibal’s chest, thin lips parted to huff out a single word.

“Will?”

Will forced out a laugh as he dropped his hand from his nose and blinked his watery eyes. “Fuck, you’re stronger than I thought,” he joked.

Hannibal patted his pockets furiously in search of a free handkerchief. This head cold had been a little of a surprising occurrence and he hadn’t been nearly as prepared as he should of. Even those that he had tucked away were slightly used and he couldn’t bring himself to offer those to Will no matter the circumstances.

“I am terribly sorry. I have supplies inside to help,” Hannibal offered once he realized that they were parked out in front of his house.

Will sniffed hard, fighting the impulse to just wipe his nose on the edge of his sleeve. It was still running freely and he started to tip his head back while he pinched the tip of his nose, when he heard Hannibal click his tongue against the roof of his mouth. Will turned to see the doctor slide out of the passenger seat and was quick to place either hand on the side of Will’s face to pull forward so that the blood dripped onto the ground.

“You don’t want to swallow the blood,” Hannibal instructed as he reached for his own used handkerchief to tend to his own nose. “It can cause one to choke or have an upset stomach.”

Will certainly recalled hearing that numerous times during police training. He honestly couldn’t have cared so long as the blood eventually stopped, though he suspected that listening to Hannibal now would save a potential argument later. Besides, Hannibal was a doctor and would certainly know how to deal with a mundane injury.

Hannibal stood off to the side and lifted an arm to motion Will forward.

“I don’t want to intrude. You need your rest.”

“And I will have none of it knowing you’re dealing with an injury of my doing.” Even ill Hannibal still had his logic, at least for now. Will wasn’t about to point out just a few minutes prior that Hannibal had been mumbling incoherently in his fevered dream state so intently that Will struggled to wake him. If anything the movement had pulled Hannibal deeper into slumber, no matter how fitful it became.

Will squinted over at Hannibal, a long bead of blood flowing from his nose and falling to the ground. “I suppose it can’t hurt.”

Hannibal didn’t seem relieved, perhaps more proud that he had managed to persuade him. A tight cough was suddenly contained into a raised fist as he briskly led the way to his front door with Will stumbling after him. Part of him wanted to insist that he didn’t want to bother Hannibal when he clearly needed to rest. He glanced over his shoulder once they reached the front door, and it was only Hannibal clearing his itchy throat that broke Will’s concentration.

“I don’t want to bleed all over your house,” Will mumbled as he gave into the urge to press the cuff against his nose to mop up the blood that was starting to crust over the edges of the nostrils.

Hannibal eyed Will momentarily before disappearing around the corner. Will shuffled from foot to foot until Hannibal emerged back a minute later with a dark brown washcloth. It wasn’t quite the color that Will was expecting, but at least it would hide the blood. He took the offered cloth and clamped it over his nose while still leaning forward per Hannibal’s instruction. The moment he crossed the threshold into the house, Will felt a wave of apprehension crash over him. What was he doing here?

Hannibal closed the door behind him while Will toed off his shoes and lined them up with Hannibal’s much more sensible shoes. Mud caked the bottoms while none of Hannibal’s looked like he had worn them at all. He awkwardly stood to the side and watched Hannibal shed his coat and start down the impressive hallway towards the kitchen.

“Come with me,” Hannibal instructed after he gave a soft blow of his nose.

Will didn’t hesitate to follow, still feeling out of place not only in Hannibal’s house, but quite possibly with Hannibal himself. Sure, they had moments where they inhabited each other’s presence during non-sessions, yet this felt more intimate somehow. That may not be something he was ready to dive into.

Hannibal immediately took to the kitchen sink and started to rigorously wash his hands. He lathered up just as he would when he was a surgeon, taking extra care to be as sanitary as possible. Logically speaking this wasn’t near the need to be as sanitary as it was for surgery, though the last thing he wanted was for Will to come down with what he had. It may have been futile considering Will’s affinity to pick up seemingly every sickness that came his way.

After drying his hands thoroughly on a nearby dishtowel, Hannibal turned to see Will creeping into view. His nose wasn’t bleeding nearly as heavily as it just would, though it was still more than Hannibal would’ve liked. He beckoned the profiler over, glancing over to the edge of the counter to his left. Will hesitantly padded over with the washcloth peeling off his face. A few stray drips trailed down his face before finally ceasing.

Hannibal pulled up a stool from the half bar area and brought it close to the sink. “Take a seat. I need to see the damage.”

Will rolled his eyes even as he did what Hannibal requested. “It’s just a nosebleed. You didn’t break my nose or anything,” he protested softly.

“I’m afraid I’ll be the judge of that.” Adept fingers came to brush over Will’s jawbone, strong and sure as he lifted his thumb to trail along the bridge of Will’s nose. Will instinctively shied away, wincing at the touch. “Does that hurt?”

Will pulled away from the rest of Hannibal’s touch, nose twitching. “Stings.”

“I would imagine. Your nose is broken.” Hannibal reached back to the sink and took the washcloth with him. He ran it under cool water until the water ran white instead of pink. After the blood was washed off, he turned off the faucet and wrung it out. He turned back to Will and reached for his face only for Will to rear back as though Hannibal had struck him. “I will be gentle, I promise.”

Will believed him, he really did, but he couldn’t change how his body reacted. He frowned as Hannibal eyed him with an unreadable expression. It was one that Will would ordinarily shy away from, unable to make that sort of unbreakable eye contact with someone like that, yet with Hannibal, he craved it. No matter how badly he looked or how much his nose was throbbing, he wanted that look that Hannibal gave him.

This time when Hannibal lifted the washcloth, Will didn’t rear back. He allowed Hannibal to begin at his upper lip and the space between his nose and lip. Gently, with the touch that Will would expect from a surgeon, Hannibal began to clean the fresh blood before trying to tackle the more crushed bits. It was slightly uncomfortable, though not nearly as much as it would’ve been if Will had done it himself.

When Hannibal tackled the most noticeable result of the nosebleed, he reached his thumbs around to hook into Will’s jaw and used his other fingers to protrude around the bridge. The cartilage was ever giving, moving with just the lightest bit of pressure. Will screwed his face in discomfort even as he stayed as still as he could, well aware of the sickly scent that Hannibal himself gave off. His fingers were warm, overly so, and while it felt good on his face, it wasn’t a great sign for how Hannibal felt.

A single gentle pod at the top of the bridge had Will reaching up his own hand and grasping Hannibal’s hand in his own. The two momentarily froze until Will lowered Hannibal’s hand, fingers still intertwined. “You’re warm,” Will rumbled.

Hannibal ignored him as though he had never spoken. he easily slipped his hand free and this time when he went for Will’s face, he anchored the sides on Will’s cheeks and pressed the tips of his fingers against either side of the bridge, thumbs around the nostrils to keep things steady. He pressed lightly at first, and the moment that he felt secured, the fingers on his right hand pressed and the appendage shifted straight with a crack.

Will shouted in pain, hardly startling Hannibal as he ripped away from the doctor’s hands, eyes narrowed. “What did you do that for,” Will seethed as he swiped his own hand over his nose. It was tender to the touch, that was for sure, but it felt better now that it actually aligned. He hadn’t expected the pain to immediately fade, and he had to admit it felt ten times better. However, a little warning would’ve been nice.

Hannibal twisted back around to cough, and when the fit persisted despite his efforts to calm the flame that burned strong in his lungs, his hands came to rest on either edge of the counter, arms braced to give himself that much needed support.

Will slid off his stool and joined Hannibal’s side, hand rested on the doctor’s lower back as Hannibal continued to cough. Wave after wave crashed through him, each with alarming intensity. Every breath that he took to try and compose himself came choked and spasmed through him. Time passed by second by second until Hannibal finally sucked in a tired breath without immediately shuddering with a ragged exhale.

“I believe I….” He suddenly trailed off as he took a faltering step forward, left hand grasping at thin air.

“Dr. Lecter?” Will rushed forward to take Hannibal’s hand once more. He didn’t hesitate to corral him closer to the counter to give him that stronghold as the older man continued to falter. “Dr. Lecter? Hannibal?”

Hannibal blinked the haze from his eyes, neck tipped to the side to regard the dark haired man in front of him. “Apologies,” he began, voice cracking. “I don’t know what came over me.”

“You’re sick. Isn’t that enough?”

“Although I do not come down ill often, it seems this time may have more adverse effects than I intended.” Hannibal suddenly sniffed hard and pulled his now well used handkerchief from his pocket to press it over his nose twitching nostrils. A ragged inhale, followed by a higher pitched hitch of a breath, had Hannibal’s entire body shuddering. Never before had Will seen Hannibal in such discomfort, which sent his entire body on edge.

Against his better judgement, Will took Hannibal by the elbow and gave a soft tug. Hannibal’s chin lifted, throat spasming as he fought to swallow.

“Come with me,” he murmured. “You need to be resting in bed, not walking around him trying to entertain me. Don’t be stubborn.”

Hannibal muttered something in a language that Will didn’t recognize. He was expecting more of a fight and wasn’t sure what to make of it as Hannibal became almost putty in his hands, allowing Will to lead him forward despite being unsure of where everything in his house was. Maybe he should’ve thought this through better before he decided to take Hannibal home?

Seeming to pick up on his awkwardness, Hannibal shifted his body so he was started in the right direction. Will worked with him, taking on more and more of his weight as Hannibal continued to waver. Each step had Hannibal fighting for balance. The thickness in his head only added to the pain spreading through his ears that was certainly adding to his balance problems.

They were only halfway down the hallway to the stairs when Hannibal stopped dead. He attempted to pull himself free of Will’s grip with Will fixing him with an odd look.

Before Hannibal could explain what was going on to Will, he convulsed forward, barely able to aim for the center of his shoulder. “Hish! Hishsh! Hiscsh! HicsH! Hisch!”

“Bless you,” Will began as he instantly began searching his pockets even though he knew he would come up empty.

Hannibal let out a very uncharacteristic snuffle, and from the way he winced afterwards, Will could tell just how disgusted with himself the older man was. The profiler did his best not to draw any attention to it, all focus on helping Hannibal to his bedroom to get some much needed rest. He gave Hannibal as much dignity as he could, averting his gaze as much as possible as they started up the stairs. Normally so surefooted, Hannibal was not in his current state and Will found himself clutching at the man until his knuckles turned white, fearful that if he didn’t that Hannibal would collapse.

“I’m not fragile,” Hannibal practically growled when they were halfway up.

“I never said you were,” Will protested. “But I would have reservations of you doing this yourself if I wasn’t here.”

Hannibal didn’t argue it, almost resigned to the fact that Will was quite possibly correct in his assumptions. He stayed surprisingly quiet the rest of the way up the stairs and down the hallway to his spacious room. Will expected nothing less than the best, and that was what Hannibal’s room became. From the curtains, to the flooring, to the bed that appeared to have been crafted by hand, everything fit together in the most elegant of ways. Will wasn’t about to compare the space to his own, where a stray sheet would be a miracle while the dogs all piled around on the floor around him. Hannibal would quite possibly have a heart attack at the mere thought of it.

When their direction turned from the master bathroom just to the bed, Will couldn’t stop himself from pipping up.

“Don’t you want to change into something more comfortable,” Will reasoned as Hannibal reached out a hand to palm at the sheets, giving him enough momentum for him to fully pull away from Will and sit on the edge of the bed, chest heaving with the effort that little movement caused him.

Hannibal pinched the bridge of his nose, fingers quick to massage either side where Will could only assume were extremely swollen sinuses. Whatever response he wanted to give was paused in favor of applying just enough pressure so he could breathe without anguish.

Although not something he would normally do, Will felt the need to help in anyway that he could. He found himself pulled toward the dresser in the corner where he assumed Hannibal kept his sleep clothes. He seemed like a man who wouldn’t just sleep in boxers and a t-shirt. No, he would have silk matching pajamas that Will had used to gawk at before he actually met a man who used them.

Pushing aside his own insecurities about picking out another man’s sleep clothes, Will reached for the topmost drawer, relieved when he found what he was looking for on the first try. He chose the first set he saw, deep purples and dark mahogany button down with sleep pants to match. They were silky and there was no doubt in Will’s mind these had to be the top of the line in whatever material they were. Sure, they were soft, but Will couldn’t have been pursued to wear those under any condition. Boxers and a t-shirt worked just fine for him.

Will closed the dresser drawer with a small huff and returned back to the bed to find Hannibal coughing against his chest weakly. It was a miracle he was still sitting upright at this point. Will certainly wouldn’t have held it against him if he were to fall asleep right then and there, finally giving in to the exhaustion that lay claim to him. He had to have been fighting whatever virus had latched onto him for who knows how long, and today was just the day he could no longer hide it. The moment that Will found out it seemed like Hannibal had given in, and the full extent of his condition couldn’t be hidden any longer.

“Dr. Lecter, do you need help with—“

“That will not be necessary,” Hannibal broke in, a fierceness hardening his voice. “I am perfectly capable of dressing myself.”

Every fiber of Will’s being wanted him to argue, to point out that Hannibal had found himself in this position for a reason. His thoughts stilled only when he surmised that he would react the same if being put in the same position as Hannibal. After all, he was hardly able to look after himself it seemed and now he thought that he could care for his psychiatrist? What had he been thinking?

Will set the folded clothing beside Hannibal and took a calculated step back. “Are you sure there’s nothing else you need?”

Hannibal pondered the question for a few fleeting moments before dipping his head. “You’ve done more than I could’ve asked already. I also don’t want this passed on any further, least of all to you.”

Will felt a stirring in his chest as Hannibal regarded him directly. A forceful swallow chased away any eager comment he could’ve come up with, instead allowing him a moment of reprieve to come up with a more calculated response.

“As long as you’re sure. You have my number and can call at anytime if you need something.”

A tiny smile appeared on Hannibal’s face. “Thank you, Will.”

A shiver raced down the empath’s spine at the ease at which Hannibal said his name. Why he suddenly turned flustered wasn’t something he could explain, nor wanted to. In fact, it may be best for him to leave before those feelings blossomed into something he wouldn’t be able to take back.

“I hope you feel better.”

The sentiment wasn’t nearly the one Will wanted to say, but it was the one he felt obligated to. Stiffly, he turned to leave the luxurious room, almost unwilling to leave the sickly man behind. After seeing how much support he needed to make it, all he could think about was making it known his displeasure at almost being shooed away the moment Hannibal became uncomfortable. He managed to stop himself shy of voicing his distain, honestly unsure of how he would even breach the subject. This was as far as things went, which should’ve been a relief to him. Why wasn’t it?

A stray hand found it’s way to the edge of Hannibal’s doorframe, fingers curled around the exquisite frame. He breathed harshly, once, twice, and when Hannibal didn’t pay him any mind, Will took that as all the sign he needed.

Whatever had happened should and would be forgotten, which would be for the best…..or was it?