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Tonight, Will was going to get drunk.
Tonight, he will forget for at least one night the misery of what his life has become and maybe tonight, Will will finally be able to admit what he was truly feeling for Hannibal.
Tonight, Will will not care about the dangerous cocktail of pain-killers and other drugs mixed with alcohol.
Tonight, Will Graham needed courage and bravery. Will Graham was on a mission and had to make his way through his own emotions with the help of his lifelong partner and faithful sidekick, the delicious throat burning beverage presently known as Whiskey.
He planned everything. He wasn't going to lie and to pretend anymore. He knew for some nights now that he painfully needed to share and explain what he felt. So many nights lying wide awake, staring at the white ceiling above his head. Wandering in the corridors of both of their home and own Mind Palace. A dull ache sitting heavy in his chest. He imagined himself again and again, hand of the doorknob of Hannibal's bedroom's door, opening it and finding Hannibal still awake and resting in his bed, perhaps a book in his hand. He wanted to do that, to cross Hannibal's doorway and finally blurt out loud what was resonating in his mind, in his skull, for so long.
But he didn't. Couldn't. He was a coward and tonight he desperately needed a little push.
That's why tonight, Will was going to drink himself until his inner voice will be appeased and quieted.
They were still healing. Still resting and learning to cohabit with the other. Dancing between domesticity and discovery. It was not uncomfortable but new. Frightfully easy to let days blur into each other. He was padding around Hannibal as Hannibal was being careful around him.
And of that, Will was tired.
That wasn't the Hannibal he knew. Too polite, as if one his metaphor or gesture would break him. If Will was one of his fragile teacup. Where did the conversations about deadly revelations go? The only thing Hannibal permitted himself was glances he threw at Will when he thought Will wasn't aware. He was wrong. Will of course knew. Or more accurately, he felt those sanguine eyes on him everytime Hannibal wasn't in his peripheral vision. The tension was vivid and time has come to let it shatter.
Will healed faster and better than Hannibal. He regained some of his initial strength far too quickly in comparison of his companion. Hannibal still couldn't held himself upright for too long during the day. He took naps on the couch almost everyday and hissed multiple times when he cooked.
That's why he wanted to take advantage of the situation by trying to cook something for them tonight. A full dinner made by the hands of a very capable Will, unlike, for some reason, everyone believed otherwise. He lived alone practically his whole life alone, why people kept thinking he couldn't cook? It was beyond him and tonight he wanted to show it to Hannibal even if he knew he had nothing to prove. That was the perfect cover for buying bottles and bottles of wine (for Hannibal) and whiskey (for himself).
He purposely avoided to think it was to please Hannibal for the evening. Certainly not thought it was going to be a big night. Obviously not fooled himself into thinking he wanted to be kind of perfect. Uh-uh. Nope. Not. At. All.
Will shook his head and pushed this ideas far away in the back of his brain. He took his basket full of expensive dark liquors and headed to the cashier.
He spent a fair amount of money, a little fortune when he combined the other grocery bags that was disposed in the trunk. He got back to his car and carefully placed the two bags of bottles beside the various other ones from the different places he went earlier that day. To conclude, Will went to the butcher, a cheese shop, an organic market and to the liquor shop he just exited.
Fucking Hannibal and his fucking fancy tastes. Fuck the half dozen of glass bottles he just bought. Fuck the guy who gently helped him and patiently guided him through the process of finding the adequate wine to accompany tonight's menu.
Will had no idea what he was actually doing.
Once seated behind the steering wheel, he inhaled loudly and slowly exhaled. Everything's going to be alright, he will manage. He knew he could. So why was he fucking stressed? Why was he almost shaking from the anticipation?
Will sighed and started the engine.
My name is Will Graham, I am driving my way back home, it's almost three in the afternoon and I'm going to cook dinner for Hannibal Lecter.
Will could have crushed his forehead against the wheel in desperation if he wasn't on the road in this very moment. Turning on the radio to a random station was suddenly a good idea and so he did just that, filling his thoughts to Pop and tasteless music he came across.
Half an hour later and arms full of heavy bags, he tried to fish his keys in his pocket and failed to open the door with so much weight on him. He missed the keyhole a few times and groaned, his frustration vanished when the door was being unlocked and opened by a sleepy Hannibal.
Both standing awkwardly in the threshold, Will held his gaze to Hannibal and Hannibal lips turned upward when in recognised what Will was in possession.
"I started to worry, Will." Hannibal finally said, breaking the silence.
His eyes curiously wandered on the different plastic bags Will was clutching tight in his hands and the crook of one elbow. Hannibal stepped back in the house to let Will enter and put away the mysterious food he just brought.
Will thanked him and took off his shoes before trying to hide the content of the bags. Hannibal tilted his head, definitely amused by Will sudden reappearance with groceries and by his behaviour.
"I was, uh, was doing some shopping. I thought you'd be asleep by the time I'd be back home," He stuttered.
Hannibal face softened and gave Will another small smile.
"Yes, I can see that." Hannibal nodded in the direction of the bags.
"I'm sorry I worried you, though." Will continued.
The bags felt more and more heavy with each passing second and his arms started to feel numb. He stumbled in the kitchen and finally set them on the countertop. He let out a relieved sigh and rolled his right shoulder, palming the pink scar still fresh under his shirt. He was going to be sore and he still had to cook everything.
Hannibal silently followed after him, eager to discover what was hidden in those bags.
"What did you purchase ?"
Will had his back turned to him but he could hear the smile beneath Hannibal's words.
"That," He placed himself in front of the island, bodily shielding the subject of his question from Hannibal's sight, "Is none of your business."
Will chuckled when Hannibal brows furrowed. It was a little heartbreaking to witness Hannibal being forbidden to approach the very essence of his happiness. Smiling gently to him, Will took a few steps in his direction.
"Why don't you take a nap and I'll take care of dinner, hmm? What about that?" He placed an hand on Hannibal's upper arm and stroked the fabric of his sweater with his thumb. "Besides, you do look exhausted."
He saw Hannibal swallow and looked at him, almost shy. "It sounds appealing, yes." He gave him a curt nod and Will forced himself to remove his palm from the warmth heating from Hannibal's body.
"Good. Alright." He smiled again and cleared his throat, "Now, shoo, c'mon. You won't be allowed in here until everything's ready."
Hannibal grinned, a wide stretch of his mouth revealing his sharp teeth and gazed at the bags one last time. Will unconsciously mirrored his expression and he felt his heart sink a little more in his chest.
"Very well, monsieur le Chef." And with that, he disappeared, the sound of footsteps echoing in the hallway.
Will closed the door of the kitchen, resolved to not let his surprise be revealed and took his time to ignore the tightness in his throat and the knot forming in his belly.
When Will was determined, it was everything or nothing at all. There was no in-between. He tested his skills in the kitchen to their limits and Will began to fill the different plates of food and dishes. Satisfied with himself after cooking during approximately five hours, he put their meal in the oven, heat set low to only let them warm and not burn them.
He hasn't heard from Hannibal all afternoon, he behaved himself perfectly, not trying to peek at any moment inside the kitchen to inspect if Will was alright and/or he needed help.
When he exited the room to went upstairs, Hannibal was nowhere in sight, not in the living room, not in the dinning room nor he was in the study. Maybe he took his nap in his bedroom to not be tempted by the wonderful smell of their future dinner.
Will shrugged it off and went to the bathroom, washed himself after having thoroughly cooked an entire afternoon.
A towel loosely secured around his hips, Will went to his bedroom and quickly dressed himself in a white button-down and dark slacks. He combed his hair back as best as he could, fighting the strand of curl that kept falling on his forehead no matter what he did. He groaned and let it go, he needed an haircut after all. Will finished with applying his cologne and stared at himself up and down in his mirror. He closed his eyes and shut down his anxiety.
Opening the door, he headed downstairs again and hoped to not find Hannibal in the kitchen without authorizing him to do so beforehand. He looked in the fridge and in the oven. Nothing has been moved. He let out two bottles of wine and whiskey each (just in case, he lied to himself) to cool on the counter and started to set the table in the dinning room.
It was a little after nine o'clock when everything was finally ready. But Will wasn't. He paced in the room, changed everything from their initial place, cutlery removed then placed back again. Will was being nervous and he cursed under his breath. Get your shit together, Graham, he thought to himself. What is wrong with you?
A shadow in the corner of his eyes caught his attention, bringing him back to earth. He looked and double-checked. No, he wasn't dreaming or hallucinating. Hannibal was standing in the doorway, wearing a suit, not a three piece suit per se, but a navy blue trousers that matched his vest jacket and a even darker shirt underneath it. The first buttons of his shirt were not fastened and Will swore he could see the beginning of chest hair peeking out at the collar. Will forgot how to breathe for a second or two and dropped his gaze on the floor. He felt his face and neck flushed.
"Y-you're right on time," His voice came rough and hoarse, "Please make yourself comfortable, I'll bring the wine."
Will quickly dismissed himself and went back to the kitchen. Hannibal grabbed Will's elbow before he could cross the doorway and hummed, approving what he was seeing.
"You look rather charming tonight, Will. Ravishing even." He slowly dropped his hand down Will's arm and let go completely.
Will opened his mouth and closed it immediately. He didn't know if he was frowning or smiling but he did know he was more crimson in the face than the wine he intended to serve.
"Thank you...?" He blurted out. "I mean, yes, thanks. And it's nice to see you back again in a suit. I didn't even know you owned one." He spoke too fast and his heart couldn't stop hammering in his chest.
Will didn't let Hannibal respond and nodded to the table, directing him to sit and telling him he will join him shortly. He only heard the sound of the chair scrape on wooden floor and entirely missed the smirk on Hannibal's face.
Once in the kitchen, Will placed firmly both of his palms on the cold steel of the countertop. He breathed in and out a few times, counted to thirty and finally took the wine in hand.
Hannibal was calmly seated on his chair, waiting for Will's return. He posed the bottle next to Hannibal's plate.
"Would you care to serve the wine while I bring the first course?" He knew it wasn't appropriate to ask this to the one you're making dinner to but neither of them seemed to care.
"I would be delighted." Hannibal smile was once again wide and he stood up.
He would indulge Hannibal this task at least tonight. Hannibal read the label on the wine bottle and asked,
"Pinot Noir? Are we eating fish tonight, Will?"
"Did you really think I was going to cook a meal without fish? You know better than that." Will snorted.
"I am not going to lie, I did assume you would and I certainly won't complain. You are the fisherman, Will. You know what you are doing."
Will brought the dish at their table and said with a casual tone,
"Spiced sea bass with caramelised fennel." Will felt like their roles were reversed. It was strange but in a pleasant way.
"It smells and looks delicious." Hannibal's nostrils flared and his lips curled upward.
Will tried not to blush at the praise and served them both the fish. It was only something light to begin with, the sea bass was presented with slices of lemon places into each fish cavity and served with the fennel, scattered with the reserved tops. A simple affair really but Will felt pride in his chest when Hannibal eyes light up, bright and smiling when he took his first bite.
"You never disappoint, Will."
This time, Will definitely blushed and murmured an almost inaudible "Thank you".
They also drank the wine, clinking their glasses together. The Pinot Noir tasted a little cheap for Hannibal's taste but didn't say anything. Simply enjoyed the good food and above all, the good company in front of him. It was hard to not stare but Will was, as he said earlier, really lovely tonight. The faint traces of his blush still painting his cheeks and the curve of his neck. Alcohol did start to take effect too, his eyes more blue than he could ever recall and the smell of a fresh shower taken a mere hour ago combined with the natural earthy scent of his skin. Hannibal also detected a bitter smell underneath all.
Anxiety.
Will was still nervous and the longer they ate and drank, the scent slowly disappeared to let the unmistakable sweet smell of arousal.
The second course, though, was a marinated and pot-roasted beef fillet with a brilliant potato and horseradish cake. They kept refilling each other's glass and soon they opened a new bottle of red wine.
The conversation was light, easy. Will explained why he chose that particular dish and Hannibal marvelled at Will's culinary skills. They stayed most of the time on the safe subject of cuisine. Hannibal asked why he did never show him this side of him and Will replied with a small shrug that the occasion never presented itself.
Hannibal felt himself falling a little bit more in love.
And Will started to fidget. They began to eat their third course, a simple ham and leek quiche and the conversation got more deep, more personal.
They were finishing their glass of wine, second bottle empty between them and Hannibal couldn't wait anymore.
"So, may I ask what all of this was for?" He sipped the liquid, watching closely Will with his head cocked to the side. Hannibal's manners weren't as graceful as they were, naked emotions displayed on his features. He was light headed and carefree.
He was drunk.
They were both drunk.
Will just laughed. His goal was reached and he felt somewhat victorious even if he didn't even say anything. Yet.
"I am not allowed to cook for you for once? I wanted to repay you, and to... to apologize for what I did to you. To us." His gaze made his way through Hannibal's chest until it landed to the right side of his belly where his gunshot wound and faded bruises from the fight and fall from the cliff were hidden.
"You don't have to do anything for me, Will. But I sincerely appreciate tonight's efforts. It's been a while since I cooked us something that isn't from a tin can or something that only has to be reheated in the oven." Hannibal said, thoughtful. "Thank you."
His hand made contact with Will's and squeezed the back of his knuckles and palm. Hannibal's eyes were soft and a tired smiled stretched on his lips.
"You're welcome." He replied. He delicately withdrew his hand from Hannibal's grip before he could reach his pulse, too afraid to see Hannibal's reaction. He heard his accented voice in his head asking if Will was feeling well and imagined him stroking his wrist, feeling the pulse under his fingers. "Do you, uh, do you want to eat dessert on the couch?"
"Yes, please." Hannibal hissed when standing on his feet, positioned with his back upright for a long period of time on such hard material hasn't done any good to him. He grunted softly when he sat on the couch, a little noise that Will didn't particularly like to hear.
He filled two glasses of scotch and took two cups of 'Crema Catalana'. Hands occupied with glasses and cups in each hand, he went back to Hannibal and also seated himself close to him who helped him get rid of what he was holding.
Will ate too fast his cup of dessert and regretted it right after. He was too full, on both food and drink. It didn't stop him from gulping his two fingers of whiskey in one go. Will's mind was still sober, though. But it was now or never. He couldn't hold back anymore. He needed to let out everything. To finally breach the last wall standing between them. He wanted Hannibal and Hannibal wanted him. Why continue to torture the other now that they were together? It was silly.
Will took a deep breath and exhaled through his nose. He set his empty glass aside on the coffee table and turned a little in the direction of Hannibal... who was deep in thought, studying the dark liquid in his glass, a finger stroking the rim of the glass.
"Hannibal, I wanted to... No, wait, I nee--"
"I wonder what it tastes like." Hannibal shut him up before he could properly form his sentence.
There was a silence. A beat. Two. Then Will frowned. A little confused.
"What?"
"I said, I wonder what it ta--"
"I heard the first time. What don't you just taste it? Actually sip it?"
Hannibal slightly shook his head and brought his own, full glass, besides Will's empty one. He straighten and turned to face Will. Eyes travelling on his face to firmly lock them on Will's parted lips.
"No, I wonder what it tastes like. On your lips."
Will's words died on his lips. Unable to even register what Hannibal just said so casually, as if they were discussing the weather. Hannibal was more drunk than Will has previously thought.
Taken aback, entirely focused on what was happening in his brain, he did not immediately see Hannibal leaning in. And with that, Hannibal took each side of Will's face in his hands and kissed him.
At first, the angle wasn't right, it was messy and hesitant. Their noses bumping and their lips too dry. Will's hand moved on his own accord and he grabbed a fistful of Hannibal's shirt and tried to bring him closer. He gasped when he felt Hannibal's tongue licking his lower lip and he automatically pulled away. His eyes were wide and their breaths coming in short gasps.
It was a basic drunken kiss that Will didn't expect. He honestly imagined Hannibal wouldn't do such a thing during being intoxicated but here they were. Hannibal finally made the first move and Will didn't have to ridicule himself by trying to explain what he couldn't put words on.
It felt wonderful.
It felt right.
"Exactly as I expected." Hannibal said, voice low and thick. "It tastes exquisite."
Will chuckled against his cheek and he bent his head to capture Hannibal's lips with his own.
This time he allowed Hannibal's tongue access into his mouth. Licking, tasting, lapping with great interest. Their lips moved in perfect sync against the other's. A hand gripped Hannibal's back of the neck while Hannibal's own hand messed up Will's curl, pulling just a little so they could fit even better. Will moaned at the gesture and Hannibal smiled into the kiss.
They parted, their lips wet and as red as the wine they drank tonight.
Will sighed happily, satisfied. Content. Their foreheads pressed together, eyes remaining closed. Enjoying the other's warmth and solid presence.
Will yawned, limbs too heavy and head too light. Hannibal kissed his temple and pulled Will's head in the curve of his neck. Manoeuvred him to lay half on the couch, half on his chest. He carefully avoided Hannibal's wound on his belly and Will placed his head above Hannibal's heart. An arm circled his waist and pressed him more firmly against Hannibal's body.
Will fell asleep to the sound of a steady heartbeat and the ghost touch of lips on his forehead.
The first thing he would do in the morning will be to kiss him. Sober this time.