Whump Is My Design
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“You have never been pointless, Will,” Hannibal tells him as soon as they’re alone.
“Jury seems to be divided on that one,” Will replies, watching as forensics arrive, no doubt preparing to accuse him of tainting the crime scene yet again. Hannibal follows his gaze and sighs, a noise so out of place that Will can’t resist looking over to him instead, which seems to have been the purpose of the action, judging by Hannibal’s faint smirk.
“You keep doing that,” Will accuses. At Hannibal’s flawlessly raised eyebrow, he groans, gesturing vaguely. “You keep drawing my attention to yourself. This is a crime scene, Doctor Lecter, my attention is supposed to be on the crime.”
Series
- Part 1 of Whump Is My Design
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“You killed them because of their blood and you took souvenirs with you.”
The man—the murderer—grins at him, wide enough to reveal his teeth. “Nobody cares enough. Neither the students, nor the agents. But I care. I’ll care about you.”
“About… my blood, you mean,” Will challenges, only half-aware how bad of an idea that is.
The man leans impossibly closer, and nods. “It’s already so beautiful.”
Series
- Part 2 of Whump Is My Design
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“Do you suffer from night terrors, Will?”
Will groans, slumping in his seat despite knowing that the action will be considered rude and ungraceful. “Is that not a diagnosis reserved for children?” he replies, more than a little bitter at the prospect of being infantilized by professionals yet again.
Hannibal hums. “Primarily. Although it can apply to any individual at any age. If you prefer, we can use the term ‘nightmares’.”
“Not much better,” Will mutters.
Series
- Part 3 of Whump Is My Design
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“Who are you?” Damon asks.
Will looks up at that; even from across the room, Hannibal can see the way his body sags with relief, and he has to force himself not to do anything embarrassing like look fond, as Will would call it.
Fortunately, the electricity cracking in Damon’s grasp quickly redirects him from embarrassing himself, and he allows his expression to harden into something more cruel. “More importantly, Mr Lennings, who is it you so foolishly think yourself to be, holding my patient hostage?”
Series
- Part 4 of Whump Is My Design
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“Will, I must encourage you to limit your movement and avoid disturbing the debris above you.”
Despite his situation, Will laughs, another tear burning a path down to his temple. “Where—where could I… go?”
Though he gives the hint of a smile, Hannibal looks upset at the question. Will can’t figure out why, until the other man clears his throat to break the silence between them. “I’m grateful you had the foresight to contact me, or else I’m not certain…”
…the FBI would have found you in time.
Series
- Part 5 of Whump Is My Design
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“No,” Will protests immediately. “No, no, Mason, you can’t—”
“Actually, I think you’ll find I can and I will,” Mason interrupts gleefully, and his eyes seem to glow brighter than the metal heading towards Hannibal.
Will struggles again, trying to utilise his knees and elbows, but each movement sends ripples of heat and fog through his bones until he’s gasping for breath, the room swimming around him. Bizarrely, when he does manage to avoid throwing up and his gaze meets Hannibal’s once more, he finds concern directed his way, as if Hannibal isn’t the one about to be branded by a lunatic.
Series
- Part 6 of Whump Is My Design
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Wide eyes meet his own as his hand reaches forward to cover Will’s shaky, bloodstained ones. “Hann…” he rasps, relief flooding his expression.
Hannibal swallows his rage and clenches his jaw, watching as Will coughs and blood trickles over his lips, dark and heavy and entirely unwanted. He leans down and places a soft kiss to Will’s forehead. “It’s okay. It’s okay, my love. You look so beautiful in blood.”
Will groans, out of both pain and incredulity, and Hannibal knows he will later have to tolerate a lecture on ill-timed compliments.
Series
- Part 7 of Whump Is My Design
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"Will?"
“I need—" Will groans at the effort it takes to force the words out, "—your help.
“I’m on my way,” Hannibal replies immediately, his voice clear and firm. If he hadn’t initially sounded a little groggy, Will might have assumed he’d still been awake.
He’s not sure which of them hangs up, and his eyes are burning with the effort of keeping his gaze locked on his unconscious attacker by the time he hears a car pull up outside. Even so, he doesn’t move until Hannibal kneels in front of him.
Series
- Part 8 of Whump Is My Design
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“You promised!” Will whisper-shouts in lieu of a greeting.
Hannibal blinks, taking a deep breath to avoid jumping to conclusions. “Will. What’s wrong?”
He can almost hear Will’s incredulous expression through the phone. “What’s wrong? What’s wrong is that you promised nothing would happen. You said—you said we were safe.”
“Are you unsafe, Will?” Hannibal asks, already halfway out of the door.
Series
- Part 9 of Whump Is My Design
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Will laughs. “You didn’t have to intimidate him quite so badly.”
“On the contrary, Will, I believe I let him off lightly,” Hannibal replies, and, in an uncharacteristic display of camaraderie, settles on the steps beside him, so close that their shoulders are almost brushing. “Besides,” he adds, “he was… bothersome.”
“You appear to be fighting my battles for me, Doctor Lecter,” Will murmurs, but he fools neither of them into thinking he truly minds.
Series
- Part 10 of Whump Is My Design
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It wasn’t supposed to become a habit.
It honestly wasn’t, and yet Will repeatedly—with increasing frequency—finds himself escaping stressful situations, overwhelming crime scenes, and even just his own mind when it becomes particularly dark by curling up underneath Hannibal’s bookshelves.
“Hello there, Will,” Hannibal says as soon as he walks through the door, without having even looked up.
Series
- Part 11 of Whump Is My Design
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“I’m not sure I can make it through another crime scene without coffee,” Will admits carefully.
Hannibal nods, making sure to keep his expression as neutral as possible. “I don’t doubt that, Will, though I would urge you to consider how that only proves my point.”
“And what exactly is your point, other than accusing me of being, heaven forbid, unhealthy?”
“That you deserve to rest,” Hannibal replies, and finds that he means it far more than he’d expected to.
Series
- Part 12 of Whump Is My Design
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The pendulum swings.
Will sneezes.
“Bless you,” Hannibal says, and Will flinches so hard he almost trips over the victim’s hand.
“You’re not supposed to be here,” he mutters.
Hannibal raises an eyebrow. “And are you certain you’re supposed to be here in such a condition?”
Series
- Part 13 of Whump Is My Design
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“Hann…” he breathes, not sure whether his words can be heard over the way his lungs are screaming in pain. Chilled hands twist his body and cup his face, and Will shivers as a feather-light thumb traces the wound on his cheek. His eyes flutter open, and meet the dark concern staring fondly at him.
“I’m here. That was… a cruel trick,” Hannibal murmurs, glancing briefly down to Will’s lips.
Will swallows, the action sharp and loud, and attempts to smile. “You would—you would know all ab—out those, wouldn’t… you?”
Series
- Part 14 of Whump Is My Design
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Hannibal stumbles backwards, blood flowing freely down his face as Will watches impassively.
“I could tear your throat out,” Will whispers, equally as impassively, his facade betrayed only by the anxious tap-tapping of his fingers.
“I could let you,” Hannibal replies, a little muffled by his attempts to stop the bleeding; if it hadn’t been for the investigation brewing above them and the subsequent necessity of remaining undetected, he wouldn’t have bothered. “I still might.”
Series
- Part 15 of Whump Is My Design
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“I won’t be able to stay for long,” he admits, “but…”
“You had to make sure,” Will finishes for him. “You just had to make sure I didn’t die by another’s hand when my fate is written for yours.”
At first, Hannibal bristles, uncertain of where he stands on the matter of Will’s death. But the word fate echoes in his mind—not death, not end, not demise—and he frowns, meeting Will’s eyes once more, searching for something he doesn’t know how to name.
Series
- Part 16 of Whump Is My Design
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“You don’t inspire obedience, Mason, and nor do you deserve it.”
Mason laughs. “You’ll change your mind soon enough.”
Will moves to lunge for him, but the leather band digs into his throat and he finds himself pulled backwards, gasping and coughing. Too late, he notices that the collar has been attached to a short length of chain bolted to the floor.
“Brilliant!” Mason exclaims in delight. “Do it again!”
Unable to do much else, Will spits at him.
Series
- Part 17 of Whump Is My Design
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“I know you’re awake.”
Will curses under his breath and opens his eyes. Only to find that doesn’t work. He blinks rapidly for several extended seconds before frustratedly concluding something has been wrapped around his eyes, an unfairly soft fabric that shouldn’t feel even nearly as nice as it does whilst cutting off one of his senses.
“If you scream, I will slice your vocal cords in half.”
Right. Well then.
Series
- Part 18 of Whump Is My Design
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Hannibal traps Will against the island counter with a strange, solemn expression, one that Will doesn’t recall having been faced with and therefore can’t entirely decipher. “Do you so inherently regard yourself as unworthy of compliments?” he asks.
And isn’t that a question.
Will swallows, tilting his head downwards. “I didn’t say that.”
Of course, Hannibal doesn’t entertain his evasion, and uses two fingers to gently nudge his face back upwards so their eyes meet once more.
Series
- Part 19 of Whump Is My Design
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“Will Graham.”
At the sound of his full name, Will stiffens. “Hello, Doctor Lecter,” he replies slowly.
His voice is quiet, but thick, and filled with an unexpected dismay; Hannibal has the abrupt urge to dissect his vocal cords and determine which point of stress caused such a thing. Instead, he glances over Will, taking note of his messy, sweat-soaked curls and the overlapping wrinkles in his jumpsuit.
“Something has happened since my last visit,” he concludes.
Series
- Part 20 of Whump Is My Design