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The house isn't empty when they arrive. One of the servers Hannibal hired had stayed behind because a few guests lingered, and Hannibal cannot fathom why anyone would stick around, unless they were hoping to get something to gossip about. Discourteous vultures.
He does at least admire the dedication of the lone server, who no doubt wants to be home.
“Doctor Lecter, you’re back,” says the infuriating woman, Isabela, that Hannibal will never be inviting to a dinner party again. Except, perhaps, as an entree.
“Yes, I was able to conclude my business more quickly than I anticipated,” Hannibal replies with a perfect, friendly smile.
Will snorts, drawing attention to himself.
“Oh, please tell me this is one of your FBI friends, Hannibal,” coos another woman, Doctor Gupta, approaching Will with hunger in her eyes. Another guest follows suit, and they take their places on either side of Will, prepared to assault him with questions.
At first, Will looks uncomfortable with the attention, his eyes searching and settling on Hannibal, pleading for rescue. His countenance changes as soon as their eyes meet, and Hannibal knows that he’s done a poor job of schooling his own features. At least, not enough so Will doesn’t notice.
He does manage to conceal his horror as Will leans into Isabela, draping his arm around her shoulders and grinning like an absolute fool.
“I sure am,” Will says with more cheer than Hannibal had ever seen him fake. Will drifts over to the server for a glass of wine, apparently delighting the guests with his very presence. Hannibal takes a delicate sip of wine, livid on the inside.
Laughter fills the room as Will spins a tale of his and Hannibal’s FBI Adventures in an embellished reality, where Hannibal and Will heroically saved a man mere moments before death, from a nefarious organ harvester. Will makes it sound romantic, making a point to look besotted at Hannibal while he gestures in his direction.
“Why Doctor Lecter, you never told us about that!” Doctor Gupta looks overjoyed, looking between Will and Hannibal as though she’s discovered some delicious secret. Hannibal isn’t sure whether he resents it more that there is nothing exciting to discover, or that she’s so happy to think she perceives something.
“It was nothing so remarkable, I assure you,” Hannibal says with an expert show of humility. He looks directly at Will, who darts his eyes away with a flush. “I was merely applying my skills where they were needed.”
“Now don’t see yourself short, Hannibal ,” the sound of his name from Will’s lips sends a shiver up Hannibal’s spine. He seethes. “I watched you save that man’s life, and it was more than remarkable. It was… beautiful.”
Hannibal smiles, setting his wine glass down, lest he break it in his hand. He tries not to notice Doctor Gupta’s hand sliding under Will’s jacket, stroking his chest. He certainly doesn’t notice the deliberate way that Will leans into her touch while maintaining eye contact with Hannibal. Nor the sly motion of Isabela’s hand on Will’s ass.
Seeing someone else be so physical with Will in such an intimate way is rather new, and Hannibal doesn’t need any further analysis to know that he doesn’t like it.
Hannibal wants to kill each and every guest in the room. But that’s a terrible idea.
Instead, he does his very best to be polite as he asks everyone to leave, citing an early morning for himself and Will. He is very aware of what people think he is implying when he includes Will. Everyone also notices that Will makes no attempt to leave, and that Hannibal seems to find this acceptable. He’s asked the server to leave as well, much to her relief, so any remaining mess is his own to take care of. It’s a sacrifice he’s willing to make, to be alone with Will.
When the last guest is gone at last, Hannibal goes to the kitchen and finds Will giggling with renewed inebriation as he struggles to finish some wine direct from the bottle. He spins to face Hannibal on unsteady feet, setting down the bottle and closing the distance between them with a clumsy grasp at the lapels on Hannibal’s suit.
“Hey,” Will drawls.
“Hello, Will,” Hannibal murmurs, his eyes flicking down to look at Will’s mouth. His pretty, perfect mouth.
Will leans in to brush his lips over Hannibal’s, breath reeking of alcohol, and Hannibal raises his hands to rest on either side of Will’s face, sighing against Will’s mouth.
“Some party,” Will laughs, with a soft puff of breath.
“Indeed.”
“Who knew, I can be sociable after all. Only took half a bottle of whiskey and half a bottle of wine,” he presses himself against Hannibal, pulling at Hannibal’s suit to bring them closer, and Hannibal can feel Will’s erection against his thigh. “I hate it, though.”
“I know,” Hannibal breathes, pushing Will back with some reluctance. “As much as I’m enjoying your company, I do need to tidy up a little in here. Please go wait for me in the study.”
Will’s pout is exaggerated enough to be comical. “Let me help.”
“Nonsense, Will, you are too drunk to be of any use. Here’s a glass of water,” Hannibal takes a clean glass and fills it from a jug sitting on the counter. “And go have a seat.”
Grumbling, Will takes the glass and stumbles off.
Fortunately, there’s not all that much that needs to be done tonight, so doesn’t take long. He enters the study when he’s done, and frowns; Will is nowhere in sight. Until he looks down, that is, and finds Will passed out on the sofa, his shirt rucked up halfway and using his jacket as a pillow.
With a sigh that has more fondness in it than he intends, he locates a blanket on one of the chairs and covers Will with it, tucking it around his chin, stroking Will’s curls just to watch them bounce back up.
He goes up to his own bed, more disappointed than he feels he ought to be, for a variety of conflicting reasons.