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Will winced as the needle pierced the skin of his thumb, watched the blood well up with interest, and then stuck the pad of his thumb in his mouth, sucking on the wound. He kept it there longer than strictly necessary as Hannibal watched. Pursing his lips around the digit he pulled it from his mouth and ran the damp skin over his lower lip thoughtlessly – though both he and Hannibal knew there were nothing thoughtless about it.
Will smirked as he watched Hannibal track the movement. He held the other man’s eyes, watched them darken with pleasure and enjoyed the feeling of heat traveling through his own body. He thought about setting aside the garland he was making and moving closer to Hannibal, capturing more of that heat, but instead he broke their eye contact and looked back at his bowl of cranberries, selecting another, pressing it to the tip of the needle then over and onto the string. He was more careful this time, watching his fingers instead of Hannibal.
Feeling eyes on him he looked back up from his work to see Hannibal watching him intently.
“You’re distracting,” Will muttered.
“I could say the same,” Hannibal purred, leaning into Will’s space. “Though I find I don’t mind the distraction.”
Will hummed noncommittally but smiled as he continued stringing cranberries. His thumb throbbed and he paused to look at it before sticking it back into his mouth. He huffed in annoyance.
“For all the times I’ve been stabbed or sliced open,” Will said, more to himself than to Hannibal, “you’d think pricking my finger with a needle wouldn’t bother me.”
Hannibal reached for Will’s hand, pulling it toward him and placing Will’s thumb in his own mouth, biting ever so gently at the skin and flicking his tongue over the place Will had pricked. Will felt his breath come quicker. It was no longer his thumb that was throbbing.
“Better?”
“Why are you so hot when you’re smug?” Will groaned. Hannibal grinned in response, giving Will a glimpse of those fangs Will so loved having pressed against his skin.
Hannibal leaned closer and placed a single, soft kiss against Will’s nose, chuckling at the former profiler’s expression as he pulled away. He reached for the popcorn in his own bowl, stringing more of them along his garland.
“Do these have to be done today?” Will asked.
Hannibal shrugged. “I believe it was you who said, ‘we have to finish the tree today,’ beloved.”
“And you’re going to hold me to my word.”
“It’s important that we keep our promises, Will. Even, perhaps especially, those made to ourselves.”
Will glared, taking in the small smile playing at Hannibal’s lips. “You do love to draw out the tension, don’t you.”
“I find it makes ending it far more satisfying.” Will felt a shiver go down his spine at Hannibal’s words.
“Fine,” he grumbled, though he couldn’t disagree. Beside him Hannibal was quiet but not withdrawn, their silence warm and companionable. The way, Will thought upon reflection, it nearly always had been. He allowed his thoughts to wander as the repetitive motion of stringing berries soothed him, but found he wasn’t truly thinking of anything.
Minutes, hours or even days might have passed before Hannibal spoke again.
“Why the garlands?”
Will started, surprised by both the voice and the question. “What?”
Hannibal was looking at him fondly; his face soft, his eyes smiling. He gestured to the cranberry and popcorn garlands, nearly complete and ready to be strung. Hannibal prodded: “A tradition, perhaps? Something from childhood?”
Will shook his head, narrowing his eyes. “Not mine, no.” He paused. He’d seen them on Hannibal’s tree in Baltimore.
It was only one of many trees in Hannibal’s home and office; the others far from a simple aesthetic. But Will had liked the simple one best: the white lights paired with the strings of red cranberries and white popcorn against the green of the tree was pleasing, and he appreciated the practicality of garlands that could be discarded after the holidays, leaving only the lights to be packed away.
“I thought you’d like it,” Will said, shrugging as though he meant nothing by it. Hannibal regarded him with careful impassivity.
“I do,” Hannibal said softly. Will shivered at the quiet vulnerability in his voice. Hannibal remained quiet as they strung the garlands, stepping behind Will now and again and reaching his arms around the younger man to adjust the placement. Instead of teasing Hannibal over his typical fastidiousness Will leaned into him, thrilling when Hannibal kissed behind his ear. Eventually Will stepped away, watching in amusement as Hannibal continued to fuss over small details.
When Hannibal finally stepped away himself, Will regarded the tree in front of them. It looked nearly as he remembered it.
“Thank you,” Hannibal said, and even after years together Will was surprised at the amount of emotion in his voice.
“It was in the corner of your home office where I knew you liked to sit and sketch. The garlands were hand strung.”
Hannibal’s fingers made their way under Will’s chin, coaxing but not forcing him to turn. He did, flicking his eyes to Hannibal’s for only the briefest of moments. The kiss that followed was full of a tenderness that Will had not always thought Hannibal capable of – that at times still surprised him – and that he vowed never to stop appreciating.
They pulled away from each other and Will leaned his head against Hannibal’s chest, arms winding around the other man’s waist. He felt Hannibal’s arms around his back pressing him closer, caging him and keeping him close. He breathed in the scent of Hannibal, basked in the warmth of him.
“This is nice,” Will said. He didn’t wait for Hannibal’s affirmative response before he added: “but I believe I was promised an end to some earlier tension.” He grinned into Hannibal’s chest, feeling the low rumble of laughter move through him.