Work Text:
Will should have known what he’d gotten himself into when he arrived at Hannibal’s home and Hannibal was sifting through his collection of records. Soon, the older man found the record he’d been looking for with a vocal “ah-hah”. Hannibal padded his way to the antique record player in the corner of the room and moved the needle to the side so he could slip the record on the base. With a gentle hand, he lifted the needle atop the outer grooves of the disk and a steady stream of white noise filled the room before the soft voice of violin strings filled the quiet void.
The familiar three/four time signature of a waltz seeped into the air round them and Will arched a brow at the doctor.
“A waltz?”
Will recalled their conversation from two days ago. They were sitting in their respective chairs across from each other in Hannibal’s office, silver streams of light pouring through the large windows. If they were a painting that day, the artist had chosen to add lighter colors to his palette instead of the dark oil paints on crushed velvet. The room seemed wider - more open - and Mr. Graham had taken notice.
“It is a nice day so I thought drawing the curtains would shine some new light in my office. Do you mind? I can close them if you’d like.”
“No, it’s a nice change from the usual doom and gloom,” Will flashed Hannibal a playful half smile.
The creases around Hannibal’s eyes twitched in amusement. “How are you, Will?”
Will’s mouth pulled to the side, “Tired and frustrated. A colleague of mine from when I was in the academy is getting married and he said in the invitation that everyone should learn to waltz because there is this tradition in his family to have a big waltz at the beginning of the reception. If he wasn’t a good friend, I would have chucked the invitation into the garbage. It’s just the damned dance is so hard to learn for someone like me.”
Hannibal cocked his head to the side; it was a simple gesture, barely noticeable. “Someone like you?”
“Someone born with no rhythm,” he replied with a brief guffaw.
“Whenever there is a ceremonial gathering in a Native tribe, they celebrate the evening by moving their bodies in a dance. Swoops of hips and flailing of arms and legs would tell stories of past ancestors with great heroism and honor. What type of story would you tell, Will? Would your movements be harsh like the leap of a tiger on its prey, or would they be soft like the effortless float of a dandelion seed in the wind?
“I’m just hoping it’s something that doesn’t make me step on my partner’s feet while we dance.”
“Dandelion seed it is.”
Hannibal led Will to the living room where he’d cleared an area for them to dance.
“Hannibal, I don’t think this is a good idea- wait -” Before he could protest, Hannibal had pulled him by the hand and brought him close. He placed a gentle but firm hand on Will’s upper waist and clasped their hands just above their shoulders.
“Dr. Lecter, i really don’t know how-”
“Are we no longer on a first name basis, Will? Just follow my lead.”
Will looked down to try to keep time with his partner, but Hannibal let go of his hand for a while so he could place a finger on Will’s chin, making him look into his eyes. “Don’t look down. I’m leading you and I won’t let you fail.” Hannibal clasped his hand once again and they stepped together in smooth box steps.
“I do not know why you discredit yourself, Will. You are a great dancer.”
“Well I have been practicing.”
“I will be leading you into a small dip; be ready.”
When the strings of the violins began to fade for a moment, Hannibal elongated his stance and curved Will’s body into a dip. “How lovely,” Hannibal said, as he looked down at the young man. There was a slight flush that rose to Will’s cheeks and spread down his neck. Hannibal smiled down at him before he brought Will back up into an upright position.
“Your turn, Will. Lead me and I will follow.”
Will breathed out steadily and placed a hand on the doctor’s lower back just as Hannibal had done to him, he clasped hands with Dr. Lecter, raising them to just above their shoulders, and began to move their bodies in time with the music. As the music picked up, Will did a good job of keeping up with the tempo change. Being shorter than Hannibal, Will was about eye-level with Hannibal’s lips. He stared at the deep red lines that curved up into an almost invisible smile and felt the urge to press his own lips against them. But that would be unprofessional; however, dancing with your therapist was also unprofessional but kissing was definitely on the unprofessional list.
“You seem deep in thought, Will, what is running through your mind?”
The flush returned to Will’s cheeks, “Oh nothing.”