Work Text:
The first time Will had seen Hannibal naked, it was a day like any other. It was cold outside, the treetops white from the snow that had fallen the night before. It was January in British Columbia, after all.
The first time Will had seen Hannibal naked, it wasn't in the bedroom. It was in the living room, so small Will still wondered how they had managed to fit a two-seater couch and a wood stove in it.
The first time Will had seen Hannibal naked, he had been amazed at how defined Hannibal's muscles were. He had never considered it a possibility, because he had never really thought about it.
The first time Will had seen Hannibal naked, he had run his hands over those pectorals, colder than his palms. Hannibal hadn't complained.
The first time Will had seen Hannibal naked, they had made love on that two-seater couch, the wood stove gently crackling in the corner.
The day after the first time Will had seen Hannibal naked, he had given him a new apron, since he had noticed his current one had a permanent red wine stain in the middle, and he knew Hannibal would be pleased to finally get rid of it.
The first time Will had seen Hannibal naked, he hadn't said a word, because he was sure his actions would speak for him.
The day after the first time Will had seen Hannibal naked, Hannibal had cooked dinner, the phrase “I'm a grower, not a shower” on his chest, as big and defined as his muscles.
The day after the first time Will had seen Hannibal naked, he had seen him again.