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“Couldn’t Hannibal be in love with Will?”
Mads wasn’t sure he heard Hugh right. The Englishman did have a habit of spouting complete nonsense, especially when he’d had a few beers (and they’d had more than a few) and was languid from having sex (which they’d had more than a few times). It was also the eve of shooting the first episode of Hannibal, and they were running some lines in Hugh’s trailer, so of course he had to bring this up now.
“Mads, did you hear me?” Hugh, standing, said.
“I sincerely hope not,” Mads, replied from the floor.
“Hannibal’s in love with Will. Why else would he be in Will’s physical space all the time? Sniffing him? Manipulating him? Come on, Mads, Hannibal is not just curious about the whole empathy brain thing.”
“I wonder if I we’ve had too much sex and now you’re confusing us with our characters.”
“I’ve never done that,” Hugh grinned that absolutely cheeky, devilish grin. Mads remembered more than a few times on the set of King Arthur, how their nights and their days, their work and their play, had begun to blur at some point.
“But seriously though, Mads, I think Hannibal wants to -- what’s the expression? -- tap that ass.”
“I love you when you’re cheeky and up to no good, but this is a little extreme. I have all my notes and I’m ready to go for tomorrow.”
“Acting is about surprises Mads, you know that better than anyone. Surprise me. Surprise everyone. Show us Hannibal in love and besotted.”
“Again, a little extreme.”
“You have to admit my theory has merit,” Hugh grumbled, throwing himself in Mads’ lap and not caring at all that he was wrinkling Mads’ script.
“Yes. Yes, it does,” Mads shoved him off and Hugh fell to the floor with a sound of dismay.
He flipped through the script for the first episode, and then a few others, before shaking his head.
“I think you are right,” he said.
“Told you.”
“It must have been love at first sight,” he tapped his script, on the very scene where Will and Hannibal meet. “He is intrigued with Will, but then he sees him, and Will is Will, and he’s in love with him.”
“Exactly!” Hugh sprang up, curls wild.
Mads laughed. “I think you really are right.”
“Of course I am,” Hugh sat down next to Mads so they were shoulder to shoulder.
“That would be a first though.”
“Shut up.”
Hugh put his head on Mads’ shoulder.
“How does Will feel about Hannibal though?”
“He’s disgustingly in love with him and wants him to shag his brains out in his trailer. Whoops, I’m confusing us with our characters again.”
Mads sighed.
“Honestly, I think Will is oblivious. He’s straight. He won’t read the cues,” Hugh said.
“He won’t read sniffing and having his ass studied as more than platonic?”
“Possibly not. Or he’s just an old hand at denial, so being oblivious to Hannibal’s interest would just be, you know, normal.”
Silence.
“That’s very sad for both of them,” Mads said.
“Yes, it is,” Hugh said.
He kissed Mads, very tenderly, on the cheek.
“What was that for?” Mads asked.
“For never being in denial.”
“It’s impossible around you.”
Hugh stuck out his tongue and stood up.
“So, Hannibal -- top or bottom? I say bottom with Will.”
Mads stood up and seized Hugh around the waist, and then dragged him to bed.
“That is enough lines for one night,” he said.