Chapter Text
The air was thick and humid, a steady fog rolling in over the slick pavement. Will was returning home from a long day in the city. Hannibal had sent him out to retrieve some groceries for the week.
Since it was Easter weekend, the streets were empty. The dim lights reflected off the puddles of water, blinding Will every so often.
He walked with purpose, turning the corner into a barely illuminated alleyway. Even through the obnoxious sound of water draining in the nearby gutters, Will could still hear the sound of faint footsteps behind him. His pace quickened, he had no appetite for trouble tonight. It was late, he was tired, and all he wanted was a glass of wine.
Will could sense the looming presence behind him, the footsteps slowly overthrowing the sound from the gutters.
Before he could react, a glint of metal caught his eye as a small cold blade was quickly held against the velvety curve of his neck.
Will's muscles tensed, dropping the paper bag he had held in his hands.
The hand that held the knife seemed large, so Will could only assume the man behind him was quite larger than he was.
Swiftly and calculated, Will twisted his body in a way the knife would barely break skin. His aim was to disarm the larger man.
The attacker had been prepared, his grip on the knife barely faltering. He thrusted the knife forward, grazing Will's ribcage.
Will grunted, a surge of heat shooting through him. He managed to get himself room from the man, ramming a fist into his jaw. Will could hear the satisfying crack of bone along with a howl of pain.
The attacker stumbled back, grabbing onto his jaw partnered with a slew of curses. The sound of the knife hitting the pavement was deafeningly loud.
Will took the opportunity to briskly grab hold of the weapon. With full force he lunged the blade into the abdomen of the slightly hunched over man.
The larger man stumbled further, letting out a guttural groan.
Struggling to regain his footing, the attacker charged forward, his fist swinging wildy in the air. Will tried to maneuver around the attack which resulted in a vigorous blow to his bad shoulder, sending him staggering backward. He clenched his jaw, the joint clearly being out of place.
Will's vision briefly went black from the sheer pain in his shoulder, gripping the blade he held even tighter.
Before Will could move forward, the larger man planted a blow to Will's nose. Blood gushed out, mixing with the water on the pavement below him.
Will sucked in a sharp breath, a surge of adrenaline flowing through his veins. As he launched himself toward the larger man, Will aimed the blade toward the man's neck, jabbing it forward.
A spurt of blood sprayed across Will's face, the man choking and gasping infront of him. His knees slowly buckled, his body finally hitting the pavement as Will withdrew the knife from his thick and fleshy neck.
Will drew a weary sigh. He hadn't wanted the scuffle, making the victory hollow, the thrill of the kill tainted almost completely. With one hand he gripped his shoulder to numb the pain, using the other to collect the now soiled bag of groceries.
Will hobbled from the scene, using the walls of the buildings as support on the route home.
Thankfully, the door was unlocked, allowing Will to stumble through the door of the small bungalow he and Hannibal shared. He cringed as the blood from his nose hit the white tile.
Before Will could get through the walkway, Hannibal appeared in front of him. His gaze was sharp and penetrating, taking in Will's battered state.
The younger man huffed, pushing himself toward Hannibal. "Brought the groceries." Hannibal caught Will in his arms, keeping the man upright.
The older man furrowed his brow in concern, steering Will to the kitchen.
After rinsing Will's face of the blood, Hannibal pursed his lips. "Let's get you to the bath."
As Hannibal guided Will to the bathroom with a firm grip, his gaze lingered on the blood stained on Will's clothes, the bruises marring his skin, and the fatigued and pained expression on his face.
Behind his mostly collected front, the primal urge to cocoon Will in his arms, even for a moment, flooded through Hannibal's body. Though, he knew he could never deny himself or his boy of the thrill of the kill and chase.
With gentle hands, Hannibal began to undress Will, his touch feather-light as he peeled away the torn fabric, revealing the extent of the younger man's injuries. Will winced as Hannibal's fingers brushed against his tender skin.
Hannibal flared his nostrils, turning the water on in the tub. "I'm sorry I wasn't there to assist you, Will."
Will inhaled with amusement. "I'm sorry too, 'would've liked to see you thrash with a big ole' burly guy."
The older man tutted, grabbing Will's uninjured arm to help lower him into the porcelain tub.
"I do hope you massacred the pig to an extent."
Will turned his head to Hannibal, he had tried to smile but to no avail, his face was far too sore. "A couple blows here and there, killed him with his own blade."
Hannibal smiled. "A fitting punishment, dear boy."
The younger man bit back a laugh, leaning back to submerge himself more in the water. He winced at the ache in his shoulder, his blood staining the water a light shade of pink.
Hannibal's mouth flattened into a thin line, an unpleasant taste in the back of his mouth. "Is there an area I should be cautious of?"
Will closed his eyes, nodding. "Yeah, I think he popped my shoulder out of place. The bastard got me in my bad one too."
"I wish I could have slaughtered the man myself." Hannibal muttered softly, reaching for a sponge.
Will's eyes flickered open, humming in agreement. He always felt a certain jolt of arousal watching Hannibal's animalistic nature come out.
With gentle hands, Hannibal began to drag the sponge across Will's skin. His touch was tender and deliberate as he washed away the excess blood and grime that clung to the younger man's skin.
The pain was slowly replaced by a dull ache, soreness overtaking his body.
Hannibal eventually ditched the filthy sponge, gliding his broad hands over Will's body. He scraped his nails against his skin gently, completely cleansing Will of anything and everything. It almost felt holy. He treated Will as a delicate piece of art rather than a bruised body.
"Thanks." Will breathed, allowing the feeling of skin-to-skin contact consume him fully.
Hannibal grimaced. "No need for thanks, dear boy. I do hate seeing you in this state though." The hands still skating over Will's body stopped, tightening minutely. "Much more than that, I can not stand the fact someone else other than me has caused you pain."
Will shuttered at the possessiveness in the older man's voice. "Careful Hannibal, I'm an injured man I can't take much of anything at the moment."
Hannibal ran his tongue across his lips, continuing to scrub Will's back.
As the stained water in the tub cooled, Hannibal helped Will to his feet, supplying himself as a support as Will stepped out of the tub.
Hannibal wrapped a towel around Will, using a smaller one to dry his hair.
"You don't have any deep wounds, but I would like to fix you up as best as I can, Will."
The younger man gripped onto the towel around him, keeping it from falling to the floor. "As long as I can have a glass of wine, sure thing."
The older man chuckled softly. "Who am I to deny such a request?"
Hannibal snaked an arm around Will's waist, guiding him from the bathroom to the living room. He settled Will on the couch, making sure he was in a comfortable position before disappearing into the kitchen.
Minutes later, Hannibal returned with a large glass of wine in one hand and a first aid kit in the other. He set the glass down on the coffee table before kneeling beside Will.
As he sterilized, cleaned, and bandaged Will's wounds, he watched in sudden eagerness. His hand twitched, wanting to reach out and touch the man tending to him. He sipped his wine to distract himself, looking into his reflection in the deep red liquid.
It took copious amounts of self-restraint for Will to not let himself get overwhelmed by Hannibal. He was all around him, more than usual. He felt the man's warm fingertips as they lightly graced his skin every so often, dabbing alcohol and wrapping wounds. His nose was filled with the smell his cologne, an intoxicating mix of vetiver, jasmine, and his natural scent, which no cologne could ever cover up completely. Will even thought he could even taste the other man in the wine he was already almost finished with.
As Hannibal finished dressing his wounds, Will found himself unconsciously reaching out, his fingers trembling due to fatigue instead of nerves as they once would have. With one hand he cupped the older man's face, the other hand grasping onto Hannibal's wrist.
Will didn't need to utter a word, Hannibal knew exactly what he would have said.
They sat, listening to the sound of the other breathing, the air heavy with the scent of antiseptic mingling with the rich aroma of the wine. Will glanced beside Hannibal at the pile of bloody cotton and towelettes, looking back and huffing in amusement.
Hannibal raised an eyebrow in confusion and parted his lips to speak. Before he could get anything out, Will leaned in, meeting the older man's lips in a tender kiss.
As they broke apart, Will slid the hand he had on Hannibal's wrist up to his forearm. "Get me another glass?"
Hannibal bent his head down, kissing Will's battered knuckles, his mouth breaking out into a grin. "Of course, mon fauteur de troubles."
Will chuckled softly as Hannibal stood, rolling his eyes. "Very funny."