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Hannibal’s head felt like it was going to explode, his eyeballs threatening to gorge out of his head at any given moment.
He’d turned the lights off, for it only intensified the throbbing head pain he was experiencing.
Laying down on the small couch in his study, he’d decided on waiting for the agonizing pain to pass, afraid that any movement too intense might reactivate the nausea he’d managed to overcome.
The bullet he’d taken in the intestines made him much more prone to stomachaches, made him retch and choke at the simplest disliked odor. He hated it.
The aftermath of the fall were harder on him than they were on Will.
Will’s shoulder tended to hurt excruciatingly for days at a time, and the scars of his face made him self conscious in public. But he never complained too much, he knew to wait for the pain to pass, knew to turn to Hannibal’s embrace for comfort when needed.
Hannibal’s orientation went astray when he reached the crashing wave. It had never returned. He’d lost a lot more than the train of life he spent decades building.
His leg was fucked up. On the worst days, he needed a cane, which he loathed. On any other days, a sudden movement made his breath hiss and his eyes shut close.
While he considered himself lucky to have avoided losing his vital organs to the bullet in his middle, his olfactory senses had grown even more sensitive, which was saying a lot. He was prone to regular nauseas, had to take breaks through his cooking to step outside of the kitchen, could not eat too much or too little.
He had lost all agency over his own body. He’d always hated being at one’s mercy, he’d always avoided doctors and hospitals for this reason.
And then there were the migraines. Those were the worst. They were sometimes strong enough to nail him to bed for days. The pain made it all impossible, his eyelids always too thin to hide the light. He had to hide away in the dark, his darkest thoughts always battling with the feeling of his forehead being stabbed a thousand times in each breath.
Will knew not to pressure him. Not to force his eyes open.
This was not a conversation they ever had, there were many conversations they’d never had, probably never will, but the only person Hannibal would let himself being handled by was Will. He’d gifted him all agency over his future, his life, his soul and his body.
Today, it had started during the afternoon, Hannibal had had to stop whatever he was doing, knowing the pain would be indefectible, leaving him weaponless, the time passing as his only companion.
Will was late from work, it ended at 6 on week days, Hannibal had counted the hours. It was now 7:30.
Too weak to call him, not even able to consider getting him himself, he was left laying down on the small couch, like a chick waiting on its mother high in the nest.
-
Will was driving home late. He’d been caught up with a particularly loud client, in need of a new motor by yesterday. He was exhausted and he was starving, night had fallen already and his phone had died hours ago.
When he reached their house, lights were turned off and it was quiet. Hannibal’s coat and shoes were still by the door.
Will walked up to his study, the door ajar letting him guess a silhouette laying on the couch. He gently pushed it open, careful not to let the corridor’s light in.
« Honey ? You okay ? » he whispered
Hannibal groaned, almost a small cry. He sounded weak. His breath was shaky.
Will walked up to him, welcomed by a view of his partner curled up on the sofa, wrinkled shirt drenched in cold sweat.
« You smell like oil. » he managed to say.
Will smiled. He took a deep breath and knelt down next to Hannibal. He kissed the other man’s forehead, bringing another uncomfortable groan to his lips.
« I am going to shower. » he said « And then I will take care of you. You’ll be just fine »
He squeezed Hannibal’s hand and got up, leaving a piece of his heart in the study.
Will hated the migraines. He would never admit it to Hannibal, for it would be rude and improper, but he hated how lonely they made him feel. Like he was back in Wolf Trap, living alone in a cold and empty house. But now there was always something upstairs, something occupying his mind and thoughts.
He took a rapid hot shower, scrubbed every curve of his body with Hannibal’s odorless soap. He dried his hair and red hot skin with no gentleness, no care. Put on new clean clothes. Tried not to let his emotions take over him. It was not Hannibal’s fault that he was ailing tonight, if it was anyone’s fault it was Will for dragging them back to the shore all those years ago.
He’d just hand an excruciatingly long day, waiting to get home to have dinner with the one person he shared his life with, talking the night away with a glass of wine.
It was okay. He’d promised Hannibal to be there in sickness and in health. Well he’d made that promise to himself only but did it ever make a difference with them ?
When he returned to the study with medication and hot water, Hannibal had not moved. His leg were up on the armrest, he had his elbow over his eyes, and his breath was sharp and quiet.
Will lifted his legs up and sat down, Hannibal’s ankles on his lap.
« I brought you some water, and some pills. I’d like you to take them » he pleaded.
While being a doctor, and reminding Will of this at any given opportunity, Hannibal had a strong tendency to flee any sorts of medication, out of mistrust or out of ego, Will did not know, and never asked.
He could feel the other man’s leg slowly trembling under his hold, could see the goosebumps on his arms, the sweat on his forehead. It pained him to see his lover like this. His thumb slowly rubbing circles on the square of skin he’d managed to reach, hoping for the touch to be soothing.
« Have you eaten ? » he asked
Hannibal did not answer.
« Are you going to ? » he asked again
Hannibal shrugged, a small groan escaping his lips.
Will sighed and brought himself closer to him, scooping the man’s knees to place them on top of his own.
« I hate to see you like this. » he started « I miss you. »
He didn’t mean to say it, he had planned to say something along the lines of « I hate to see you in pain knowing i can’t do anything to help » or « I want you to feel better already », but the truth of his selfish small heart was that he just missed Hannibal, most days he did not care for the pain he could be in as long as he was by his side. To see him defeated, reduced to silence and immobility was much harder than to bare his complaints of hip pain or nausea. He would have Hannibal in all the ways he could, as long as he could have him at all.
Hannibal chuckled, Will offered a self conscious smile.
He sat up with a grunt and brought the pill to his lips
« Thank you Will » he simply said, and laid back down
Will caressed his legs, he could feel the scar on his thigh under his pants. His finger stopped there for a second. Reminiscing of their birth, their chosen beginning. He had seen Hannibal so tall and strong, covered in blood, his, Wills, Dolarhydes, all mixed on his skin, in his mouth, in his hands.
Will had felt like he was watching a divine scenery, his heart threatening to come out of his mouth, the power he had felt residing between his fingers had felt almost out worldly, like it came directly form the deities and above. In this moment, Will adoration had known no bounds. His devotion had felt sacramental.
And Will had reduced Hannibal to his mortal condition. Reduced him to the physical limits of his body. Pushed him off the cliff and brought back Hannibal’s human flaws.
Now, years later, he was laying in the dark, in their house. His legs between Will’s arms. Incapable of overcoming the headache, his most simple bodily response.
And Will still vowed him the same devotion.
« I am going to get you to a bed » he whispered, his hand reaching Hannibals, interlocking their fingers. « And I’m going to go downstairs make some soup, which I’ll bring to you. We need to get you up »
« I can’t » he whispered
« You can. And i’m going to help you » he said
He got up and scooped Hannibal under each of his arms, pinning him to his chest so he wouldn’t fall back down. He felt brittle, breakable as glass. He carried him with the greatest care.
He thought of himself as a child. His father used to take him to the fair when Fall came. Will was fascinated with the man making gigantic soap bubbles around him. He would pull the rope slowly, following the winds flow to make sure the bubble would remain elegant, impressive, and beautiful. He would put all his focus on making sure the bubble wouldn’t burst, would remain as great as it has been when he created it, so it would eventually fly away.
This was how cautiously he tried to handle Hannibal’s body. Like he was a fragile and mesmerizing soap bubbles, ready to burst if the wind came too strongly.
He brought Hannibal to the bed and reached in their cupboard for new clothes. He cared to pick the softest ones. He gently peeled the shirt of his back, unbuttoning it and folding it neatly by their bed table. He knelt down to carefully try to shimmy Hannibal out of his pants. It felt reverential, almost like a prayer. The man steadied himself holding Will’s bad shoulder, which he said nothing against.
When Hannibal was changed, laying down on the bed, he brought his arm back against his eyelids.
« My darling boy » he whispered
Will sat down next to him, a hand on his ribs, feeling each of them under his fingers, slowly caressing them.
« My darling. Where would I be without you ? » the whisper was so small Will had to offer all his attention to Hannibal’s lips to hear it.
He brought Will’s palm to his mouth and gently kissed it. Let his lips linger against the other man’s hand, taking in the scent and the warmth it brought.
Will reached up to him, brought his lips to his. They were cold. His breath was sour and his lower lip trembled at the touch.
He kissed the nape of his neck, drawing a small pleased moan out of Hannibal’s mouth.
Will brought his hand to the man’s heart, feeling the beat between his fingers. He wished there was nothing else to hear in this world.
« Rest your eyes Hannibal » he whispered « Sleep if you must. I will be right back »
Hannibal tightened his grip on Will’s wrist. Almost urgently. Almost pleading.
And then Will knew, knew he could never bring himself to leave the man like this all alone. That he would wait with him. Wait until their body recovered, until Hannibal would be ready to face the light and the smells, until his eyes would open, and the first thing they would see had to be Will’s own eyes.
He sighed and walked to the other side of the bed. Climbed in next to his partner. The man he loved.
He sat up against the wall and brought Hannibal’s shoulders to his lap, a delicate loving hand stroking his hair, fingers gently brushing his face.
« Read to me » Hannibal said « I find your voice to be grounding »
Will smiled. Reached out for the book he had left of the bedside table the night before.
« I am never going to leave you » he stated « I wish to have you by my side in whatever form you’ll accept to follow me in. There’s never been a version of me more at ease than the one that gets to be near you. »
And then, he started reading.