Chapter Text
He’d been walking for fucking hours. The sun beat down on him, burning hot against the back of his neck. Every breath gasped out of him, because the air was thick and heavy with humidity. Every inch of him was covered in sweat, making his tee stick uncomfortably against his skin.
The salt made his wounds feel like there were new knives stuck in them, even if they were healing.
Still, he was determined. He’d left their makeshift camp at dawn, determined to find help somewhere on the island. Will knew how to navigate, so he imagined they were somewhere in the Azores. There was nowhere else they could be.
Being good at navigating meant exactly shit when the storm hit their boat. He had no idea how far they’d drifted off course, and he had no idea where they were when the boat went down. This was the only land mass they could see when the storm passed, so they had no other choice.
With a grunt, he hoisted himself over an outcropping of rocks that protruded across the beach. For now, he was sticking to the coast of the island. Most people settled along shorelines, so he imagined that if he walked long enough, he’d find a village. If not, then he’d need to venture into the dense forest another day.
It couldn’t be today, though. He was running low on water, and he had no idea where he would possibly get more of it. The only reason he had bottled water in the first place was because most of the shit in Hannibal’s boat had floated to shore. Most of it was useless, but the four bottled waters were not.
He shouldn’t even have been there. It was a recurring thought that tasted more and more bitter every time his mind circled back to it. If he were normal, he would be home with Molly and Walt. Maybe they’d be home having dinner right now. Maybe they’d be playing a board game by the fireplace. Sure, the fantasy was boring and did absolutely nothing for him, but he’d be comfortable, hydrated, and have far less puncture wounds in his body than he did now.
He wasn’t that man, though.
He was the man that plotted to get Hannibal out of prison. He was the kind of guy who apparently loved brutally murdering another man. He chose this when he agreed to get Hannibal to his safehouse in Portugal, even though he had no intention of staying with him.
Once they’d mostly recovered from their wounds, they’d struck a deal. Will would help him get to his safehouse, and in return, Will could have his pristine sailboat. Hannibal promised he would never come after him or his family, if he promised to keep Hannibal's whereabouts to himself.
It felt like a bargain at the time. Will could return to Molly if he wanted, or he could sail away to some other place and start over. It wasn’t discussed, but Will knew there was a third option, too.
He could stay with Hannibal.
It was a passing thought and nothing more. They’d done too much to one another. Hannibal had sent the dragon to his family in hopes of getting them killed. He’d cut Will’s head open, hoping to eat his fucking brain right out of his head.
He’d gutted Will and left him for dead in his kitchen. He’d killed Abigail in a horrible mockery of what her father had almost done to her. He’d let Will rot in an insane asylum until the darkness in him threatened to consume him.
Hannibal had hurt him far more than anyone ever had in his entire life. It hurt all the more because Will had, at one point many years ago, loved him dearly.
Not romantically. At least, he didn’t think so anyway. It was hard to say because his brain had been boiling in his head since he’d met Hannibal. Still, he loved him anyway.
Hannibal had been his rock. His paddle. His best friend and his voice of reason. He trusted him implicitly, taking his word and his advice without a second thought. Bedelia must be fucking high to believe that Hannibal loved him, because who would do any of those things to someone they loved?
Will hadn’t been kind to him once he got out from the hospital. Rationally, he knew that. He had a right to be vengeful. He had every right to be angry.
His anger was worth the weight of a single shit just now, but still. He felt entitled to have it.
There was another sharp, rocky, outcropping in his way, but he was far too tired to climb over it. Instead, he headed into the tree line, keeping the ocean on his right. The trees were sparse closer to the ocean, but there was a lot of undergrowth that scratched at his legs, making him wish he’d have just climbed all the damned rocks.
Eventually the rocks cleared out, and he ventured back out onto the sandy beach.
He wondered what Hannibal was doing, which irked him. When he’d left, Hannibal was going through the things that continued to float to shore, deciding what was useful and what wasn’t. Will couldn’t imagine him making those kinds of decisions, especially since Hannibal was the least likely person who’d survive in the wild.
Was he currently making himself a three-piece suit from the sail that had floated ashore? Even as tired as he was, the thought made him laugh.
The sun began to set along the opposite end of the island, and Will felt his stomach drop. If the sun had come up over the water where he and Hannibal had made camp, then they were on the east side of the island.
If the sun was now setting on the other side of the island, then that meant he was, once again, on the east side.
He squinted down the shoreline, grimacing when he saw the bright white of Hannibal’s sail in the distance. He’d walked around the entire island and never found another human being, or even evidence that there were people at all.
His stomach was growling, which wasn’t surprising seeing as how the last time he’d eaten was yesterday morning. As he got closer to their camp, his mouth watered when the scent of fresh fish reached his nose.
Hannibal had his back to him, stoking a small fire with a branch. There was a piece of what looked like Hannibal’s aluminum hull over the fire, but it had been banged out with a rock to make it a giant bowl.
“Have you found anyone?” Hannibal asked without turning to him.
“What do you think?” Will grumbled while moving to sit in the sand by Hannibal’s side.
If he were being honest, Hannibal had impressed him. The big sail that had floated ashore was now stretched over them, tied to tree branches to give them shade as well as protection from the weather. He’d built a fire somehow, and caught what looked like a cod.
There were shredded bits of sail that Hannibal had made into what looked like a bed, and a few cushions from the deck furniture that had washed ashore were arranged as pillows.
The thing that caught Will’s attention was the fish, though.
“How’d you catch that?” Will asked, biting back a yawn.
“With scraps of sail that I wove into a net,” Hannibal said, as if it were obvious.
“How long do you think I was gone? Twelve hours? And you did all this, and wove a net?”
“It’s crude,” Hannibal chuckled. “It won’t hold for long, but it gives me time to think of something else.”
“We have no more water,” Will informed him solemnly while tugging the empty bottles from his pockets.
“We’ll figure it out tomorrow,” Hannibal promised. Using two sticks, he removed the fish from the makeshift bowl and placed it carefully on a bed of big leaves. “Dinner tonight will be very hands-on,” he remarked primly, as though it were distasteful. “No need for formality, Will. Dig in.”
He needed no further encouragement. Using his fingers, he tore back the skin, revealing the perfectly flaky flesh beneath it. Hannibal did the same, each of them hissing because they were burning their hands and their mouths while eating it, but both were hungry enough that the pain was worth it.
“Could use some lemon,” Hannibal sighed after popping a bit more into his mouth. “Some rosemary, maybe.”
“Butter,” Will bemoaned after swallowing his bite. “Butter would do wonders. It’s good though.”
Once the fish was nothing but bones on one side, they flipped it over and began making work on the other. “It’s been a long time since I’ve been this hungry,” Hannibal said, eyes widening when a surprising burp escaped his lips. “Forgive me.”
Will stared at him for a second, completely dumbfounded that Hannibal had burped at the... well, dinner table. “I didn’t even know you could burp,” Will laughed.
“Everyone burps,” Hannibal scowled while licking his fingers clean.
Once the fish was consumed right down to the bones, they relaxed and watched the sky as it turned magenta with the sunset. “What are we going to do, Hannibal?”
For once, the good doctor did not seem to have an answer.
It was their first full night on the island. The storm brought their water-logged bodies ashore sometimes during the early morning hours, which meant they they’d be sleeping outside.
The sail that Hannibal put over their heads was big enough to give them some shelter, and the sail that he’d make-shifted into a bed would prevent sand from getting all over them. Still, they’d be sleeping close. Too close for Will’s comfort.
The other option was sleeping away from Hannibal, which didn’t sound appealing either.
They got as comfortable as they could, adjusting the still-damp cushions from the boat under their heads. “Do you think there are... animals out here?”
“I imagine there are quite a few, yes,” Hannibal drawled with his eyes closed.
“I meant... uh, dangerous ones. Maybe we should sleep in shifts?”
“If we are in the Azores, which I believe we are, then there are no dangerous animals to worry about. They do not have snakes, and I don’t believe there are wolves. Wild boar, maybe?”
“They’re dangerous,” Will pointed out.
“I’m also not certain they’re endemic to the area,” Hannibal muttered. “Will, sleep. We have a long day tomorrow.”
“Doing what, exactly?”
“We must find fresh water,” Hannibal yawned. “Or else we’ll be dead by the end of the week.”
Will shifted against the sail, staring up at the white sail that was fastened above him. The fire was dwindling, casting everything in an orange glow. “If I walked around the entire island in twelve hours, that means the island is likely twenty miles in diameter. Maybe less. There... there’s no one on this island but us, is there?”
It was silent for long enough that he imagined Hannibal had fallen asleep before he spoke. “You’re probably right.”
“So how are we... how are we getting out?”
“Are you in such a hurry to get back to your wife?” came the immediate reply.
Will hesitated. He hadn’t exactly told Hannibal that he had no intention of returning to Molly. He’d assumed that Will would, and Will hadn’t corrected him. The assumption bothered Hannibal, and Will let him fester in it. “In a hurry to get back to real life,” he decided to say.
“For now, this is real life,” Hannibal countered. “Sleep.”
He didn’t think he’d be able to sleep, but exhaustion and a full belly let his mind find some peace.
Until about three or four in the morning, at least. He awoke, shivering in spite of it being at least seventy degrees. The fire had long since gone out, and the cool breeze from the ocean coupled with his sunburn made him feel sickeningly cold.
He huddled into himself, bringing his knees to his chest. His teeth were chattering, his spine so stiff with shivers that his back ached.
“Will,” Hannibal said groggily from behind him. “Come here.”
“What?”
Hannibal gave a long-suffering sigh before sidling up behind him. The heat of his chest pressed against Will’s cool back, then the warmth of his arms pulled him closer. “What are you doing?” Will protested weakly.
“Trying to get some sleep,” Hannibal complained. “It’s not possible with your teeth chattering away. Relax.”
Relax, Will thought scornfully. As if he could relax with Hannibal fucking cuddling him! Yes, he was warm. Yes, it was... comforting. He huffed a breath as his muscles relaxed a bit. As the cold leeched from his bones, seething resentment took its place.
Hannibal gave him a reassuring squeeze, snuffling into the nape of his neck as he fell back to sleep. Will felt immersed in him, and he wasn’t sure if he could sleep like this.
He still smelled good. Will knew that he himself didn’t, not with the way he sweat the day before. Hannibal smelled like the ocean and clean air. Like sweat and sunshine. His arm around Will’s middle felt safe. The way his big hand held Will’s belly felt… too intimate for words.
He snuggled further into Hannibal’s warmth, turning in his arms so he could stuff his face into his chest. Aside from a snore, Hannibal barely moved.
His last conscious thought was that it felt good.
It felt right.
The feeling was short-lived. Barely a few hours later, he awoke to Hannibal sniffing him.
His face was still pressed into Hannibal’s neck, but at some point during the night, he’d pretty much climbed on top of him. Hannibal’s arms were around him, one hand buried in his oily hair with the other resting on his hip. His thumb was brushing the skin over his hipbone where his tee shirt had ridden up, almost as though he were memorizing the feel of it.
Hannibal’s nose pressed into his temple again, raising goosebumps over his skin as he felt the older man take a deep inhale.
Will startled away from him, rolling onto his side of the sail where it was cold and damp with morning dew. He fought back a shiver while clearing his throat. “Uh,” he croaked. “We should... get moving. I’ll catch us some breakfast.”
Hannibal raised an eyebrow. “Will you?”
“Yeah,” Will nodded while staggering to his feet. “If you’ll get the fire going?”
“Of course,” Hannibal agreed with a tired stretch.
“How did you, by the way?” Will wondered. “Get the fire going, I mean.”
Hannibal pointed to the rocky protrusions along the shoreline. “It’s flint. Granite and flint, I think. Strike them together, and voila. I merely made due.”
Will would very likely have never thought of it, so he had to admit that he was somewhat impressed. “Right. I’ll uh- be back.”
He brought Hannibal’s makeshift net with him, as well as an empty cooler that had floated ashore. heading to the rocky outcropping on unsteady feet. If he were to catch something, it would likely be between the rocks, and it would require some measure of patience.
Leveraging himself up the side of the sharp rocks was dangerous. He took each step carefully, with full knowledge that if he broke an ankle out here, he’d very likely lose his foot.
He went out, following the rocky protrusion into the water’s edge, looking here and there for any sign of life. There were seaweeds and barnacles, as well as-
Wait.
Mussels. Hundreds of them.
“Jackpot,” he grinned.
He’d never had steamed mussels for breakfast, but they were good anyway. Hannibal helped him clean them as best they could, utilizing a few shards of aluminum from the hull. They weren’t pretty, but they were the freshest that Will had ever had, and they were cooked perfectly.
They ate in silence, then cleaned the empty shells from their campsite. “If I had to guess, I would say there might be fresh water that way,” Will pointed. “There’s more trees over there, and everything looks a lot greener.”
Hannibal squinted into the sunshine, looking up where Will was pointing. It would be a hike, because the land gently sloped upwards for a few hundred feet. “We should bring the sail,” Hannibal noted. “Perhaps our cooking supplies. We might not have time to come back to camp.”
“We can’t sleep in the woods,” Will argued. “First, we have no idea what’s living in there. Second, if a boat or plane pass by, they won’t see us.”
“What other choice do we have?” Hannibal countered. “Should we find water, how are we getting it back to camp? My suggestion is that we make camp by the water source-”
“If it’s the only fresh water source, then the predators on the island will feel the same way,” Will interjected. “Hannibal, it’s not smart.”
“What is your suggestion, then?” Hannibal wondered snidely. “That we fill our four water bottles every day, hiking for hours?”
“We have a cooler,” Will reminded him through gritted teeth. “We can fill that with water and return to the beach. It should last us a few days, shouldn’t it? It’s a ten-gallon cooler!”
“You’re assuming that we find water,” Hannibal reminded him impatiently. “Your entire assumption being based on nothing more than the thought that the trees look greener over there.”
“Do you have a better suggestion?” Will asked heatedly. “Because I don’t hear anything aside from snide goddamned remarks!”
Hannibal sighed, all but rolling his eyes at Will. “I don’t have another suggestion, no. For now, we’ll base our survival on your... whims.”
Will had to bite his tongue to keep from telling Hannibal to go fuck himself to death. It wasn’t a helpful suggestion, and it wouldn’t get them moving any sooner. Will was thirsty, and every minute they stood around arguing was a minute more that his throat felt like parchment paper. “Get the fucking cooler,” Will spat.
They didn’t speak as they headed into the woods. With Will’s gift, words weren’t necessary. Hannibal believed Will was wasting their time, and Will wanted to strangle him with his own intestines.
Still, Will kept an eye out as they navigated through the foliage. The plants were lush, and there was an assortment of vegetation. It wouldn’t do either of them any good if they missed a coconut, or something.
Were there coconuts in the Azores? Will had no fucking idea.
“Aloe,” Hannibal exclaimed excitedly, bending to tear a few leaves free. The plant was enormous, unlike anything Will had ever seen when they were houseplants in people’s houses.
He waited patiently while Hannibal stuffed the stiff leaves into Will’s makeshift bag he’d made out of a sail. “Going to make moisturizer?” Will snarked.
Hannibal gave him a withering look. “Aloe has anti-inflammatory properties. It’s antifungal, antibacterial, and antiviral. It heals wounds. It can also soothe that horrible sunburn you have.”
“Can we eat it?” Will wondered. His stomach was already growling, and the way the sap leaked freely looked like water, reigniting his thirst.
“We can add it to a beverage, but... I would not eat it like this. It needs to be rinsed free of latex,” Hannibal told him.
Will had no idea how he knew that, but still, he shrugged. “Let’s keep moving, then.”
“We can do this, however,” Hannibal said, coming up behind him noiselessly. Will startled as cool, slick, fingers smeared against the angry red burn on the back of his neck. His initial reaction was to shove Hannibal away from him, but...
But the aloe made the burn feel like nothing at all, so instead, he sighed in relief.
“Good?” Hannibal wondered.
“Yeah,” Will mumbled. “It’s good.”
“We’ll reapply later,” Hannibal promised. “In the meantime, when we’re on the beach, it would be prudent for you to keep covered.”
Their progress was slow-going. Hannibal stopped frequently to pick different things, all of which seemed beyond useless to Will. He had an enormous pile of long, thick, grasses that he accumulated and tied off with another length of grass. Will didn’t know if they’d be eating it, but if Hannibal didn’t get moving, Will would eat him instead.
Will’s legs were sore from his long hike the day before, and the battering his body took when the boat went down. Sleeping in the sand didn’t help, and the fact that he was beyond dehydrated didn’t help, either.
Hannibal, on the other hand, seemed peaceful. Looking at him, Will would think he was on a vacation with how interested he was in the birds, wildlife, trees, and plants. He stopped to pick a bunch of small white flowers, which Will thought might be Jasmine. What good they were for anything, he couldn’t say.
He also wouldn’t ask, either.
Around noon, they took a break about halfway up the hillside. Will was barely sweating anymore, and he knew it was definitely not a good sign. He hadn’t urinated, which was also not a good sign.
Hannibal wandered around in the woods, but Will could not even pretend to care what he was doing anymore. His stomach ached, and his head throbbed in time with his heartbeat. While Hannibal fucked off in the bushes, Will closed his eyes and tried to get the nausea to go away.
He must have drifted, because he was awoken by a gentle hand nudging his shoulder. “Will,” Hannibal said softly with a very concerned look on his face. “Here.”
Will blinked, turning his gaze towards Hannibal’s outstretched hand. There was a fruit there, but Will had no idea what it was. Still, he took it without question and bit into it. It was sweet and juicy, wetting Will’s tongue and throat like ambrosia. “Figs,” Hannibal told him. “There are countless trees just up that way,” he said, pointing up the hill.
Will licked his fingers clean, feeling just a touch more alert than he had only moments ago. Hannibal reached into his shoulder bag and gave Will another, which he demolished just as quickly as the first. “You were right,” Hannibal murmured.
“About?” Will asked, feeling refreshed already. Hannibal fed him another little fruit, which Will tried to enjoy, this time.
“Figs only grow around good water sources,” Hannibal replied. “The fruit itself is almost entirely made of water. There must be a fresh water source nearby, and plenty of it.”
Will made to stand, but Hannibal pressed him down to keep him still. “We’re wasting daylight,” he admonished.
“You need to rest,” Hannibal told him. “How do you feel?”
“Better,” Will said honestly. “Much, actually.”
“Have another,” Hannibal suggested, this time taking one for himself as well.
They ate their fruits in silence, but not because there was tension between them. No, they were starving and thirsty, and the little juicy fruits felt like a gift from God.
They stopped to pick a few more of them, then they continued their path uphill. The vegetation grew thicker, which meant they were slowed down. It also meant there was much more that Hannibal had to stop and investigate.
There was an entire grove of low, flat, greenery. The leaves were large and green, and they seemed to make Hannibal very fucking happy for some reason. “Inhame,” he grinned with a delighted laugh. “Yams, Will!”
Hannibal bent low and yanked the plant up by the roots, and sure enough, there was an enormous yam hanging from them. Will had a vivid image of eating them after they’d been roasted in the fire, and his stomach gurgled with the fantasy.
They picked about six of them, but the six they had were huge. If they could manage to catch another fish later, they’d at least be going to bed with full bellies.
Their load was getting heavy and cumbersome, but they continued on. Eventually they got to a clearing, where they heard it.
With wide eyes and hammering hearts, they heard it.
A waterfall.
With renewed vigor, they ran through the clearing, stumbling into the crystal-clear stream that led down from the vast and plentiful pond where the water was accumulating. The waterfall was small- barely ten feet, but it felt like finding the gates of heaven.
Without thought, Will scooped his hands into the water, meaning to bring it to his parched and dry lips. Before he could get it to his face, Hannibal slapped it out of his hands. “The fuck!”
“We need to boil it, first,” Hannibal told him seriously. “You do not want to get a parasitic infection out here, Will. Or worse.”
He resented it, but it made sense. Instead, they shed their dirty and ripped clothing, and waded into the cool, clean, water.
Using the gravel of the river bed, they scrubbed the dirt and sweat from their skin. Will did so gently, trying not to further aggravate his incredibly raw sunburn. He went under the water, scrubbing at his scalp to loosen the salt and oil that had accumulated there, digging in with his fingers until it loosened. It would still be oily, but it would at least be free of crusted salt water and sand from the beach.
Once he felt as clean as he would be, he submerged his shoulders, letting the cool water leech the heat from his burns. He waded in the water, turning to see what Hannibal was doing.
The first time Will had ever seen Hannibal without a shirt was just about six weeks ago, now. They’d stayed in the cliff house while they recovered from their wounds, and they’d survived because Hannibal had an entire hospital’s worth of medical supplies in the basement.
Those six weeks were hazy. Will had been on pain meds most of the time, so he remembered very little of his recovery. What he remembered most clearly was Hannibal’s bare skin.
He was unbelievably pale, but that made sense. No sunlight for three years would do that to a person. He’d also had a tiny little belly, and Will knew it was because of the shitty cafeteria food that Alana had fed him.
Will left the hospital with a belly, too.
What stood out more than anything else, though, was how well defined his chest was. The salt and pepper chest hair. His strong shoulders, and even stronger back. His skin was mangled from the bullet, and there was an odd-looking circular mark between his shoulder blades.
When Hannibal finished tending to his wounds, Will began tending to Hannibal’s. It was then that he realized that the circular marking was a fucking brand.
A Verger brand, of all things.
There was only one way he would have gotten such a thing, and there was only one time and place where it could have happened. The thing had healed horribly, so Will knew that it must have been even worse when it first happened.
Hannibal had carried him home while suffering. He’d never even mentioned it, even as Will was kicking him out of his house and out of his life. Thankfully, Hannibal fell asleep once the pain meds kicked in, so the older man did not hear Will when he cried.
When the guilt choked the life out of him.
Will’s empathy was a strange thing. While he could hate the things that Hannibal did to him, it also made it possible for Will to perfectly understand his motives. Hannibal had a difficult life, and he had never loved another person before he loved Will. He’d loved his sister, of course, but that was a very different kind of love, wasn’t it?
Besides, Will was certain that Hannibal would have been possessive of Mischa when they were little. Hannibal did not know how to love, and he was pretty sure that even Mischa would have been annoyed by him sometimes.
Hannibal did not want anyone in Will’s life that wasn’t him. He wanted to be the reason why Will’s heart beated. He wanted to be the reason why Will breathed. He wanted to be the center of Will’s entire world, and his reason for living.
What the stupid man did not realize was that he was all of those things.
He still was, if Will was being honest.
Will understood him perfectly, because Will felt the same way about him. He didn’t try to stab Hannibal in that plaza because Hannibal had stabbed him all those months before. No, he wanted to stab Hannibal because the shithead had been drawing he and Bedelia when he found him in the Uffizi. As if they were the same.
As if they were equal to Hannibal.
As if he cared for her as much as he cared for Will.
Even now, it made Will want to stab him in his guts.
Will let his eyes drift over him, feeling an awkward little shiver of want run through him at the sight. Hannibal was standing waist deep, the clear water lapping against his hipbones. The bullet wounds had healed, but they were not pretty. Will was not a surgeon, so he tied the stitches off like he was making a fishing lure. The stitches held, but they did not make for a subtle scar.
His own wounds weren’t horrible, and he knew it was because Hannibal had tended to him with a loving hand. His cheek should have been mangled, but because of Hannibal’s care, it was nothing more than a thin red line on his face. His shoulder was fucked way before the dragon stabbed him, but even that was just a jagged red line on his skin.
They’d only been in the sun for a few days, really. It made no sense that Hannibal would be so fucking golden already. His cheekbones were tanned, as were his shoulders. The skin of his hips was still pale as moonlight, but even that was charming, for some reason.
He seemed absorbed in what he was doing, which was cleaning the dirt from under his fingernails. Will bit back a laugh about it, knowing full-well that Hannibal would kill for a bar of soap right now.
The little belly he had was long gone, now. He looked strong and healthy; a veritable powerhouse of sinewy muscle. Will swallowed thickly, blushing hot when he realized that Hannibal was staring at him.
“Is there something wrong?” Hannibal wondered.
“No,” Will blurted, shaking his head. “Nope. Just... uh, wondering. You have any pain?”
Hannibal raised an eyebrow at him, tilting his head. It made the sunlight that was filtering through the trees catch on his cheekbones perfectly. “No pain, no. Should we head back?”
Will let his eyes wander over him one more time, then nodded.
It was a slow trek back to the camp. Both of them had their arms full with their haul of goodies, and they were each holding the plastic handle of the cooler that was now full of water. “We could make camp in that clearing,” Will said, nodding his head at it. “A plane would see us, and we could... I don’t know, leave something on the beach for passersby.”
“We cannot survive on fruits and yams,” Hannibal said breathlessly.
“No, but there are freshwater fish,” Will grunted, navigating carefully down the hill.
“We can come back in a few days,” Hannibal suggested. “When our supplies are low, we’ll set up camp in that clearing.”
“Sounds good,” Will agreed. There was some movement on a tree by their side, which stalled him out. “Holy shit! It’s an Azorean Wolf Spider! Hannibal, come look at him!”
Hannibal wandered over, frowning at the fuzzy spider on the tree. “Kill it.”
“What? No! Why would you- he's harmless!”
“Kill it anyway,” Hannibal suggested.
“Stop it,” Will laughed. “I’ve never seen one in person because they’re endemic to the nine islands of Portugal alone. They exist nowhere else! Not in the entire world! Pardosa Acorensis!”
“How interesting,” Hannibal said flatly. “Smack it with something and we can be on our way.”
“Jesus,” Will mumbled. “The species is already suffering because of climate change! Do you know, the females carry their eggs on their backs? They don’t make webs like other spiders. They carry their whole lives with them, everywhere they go.”
“We’re losing daylight,” Hannibal complained while staring at the furry spider uncomfortably.
“Right,” Will sighed.
When they got back to the beach, Will was sweating again, which he thought was a good thing. Those little figs were delicious, and apparently exactly what his body needed.
He and Hannibal went scavenging for branches and firewood, making a neat pile by their dug-out pit. “Show me how to start it?” Will asked softly.
Hannibal gave him a little smile, gesturing for him to kneel by his side. The older man took a few tufts of dried leaves and debris from his pockets, building a little pile in the middle of the hole. “The drier the better,” Hannibal told him. “Make sure to have kindling,” he said, gesturing towards the pile of very small branches and twigs by their side.
He handed Will two shards of flint, leaning over him to cup Will’s hands in his own. “Hold the base of this stone under the leaves, like this.”
Will swallowed hard, hyper aware of Hannibal’s proximity. His breath stirred the curls behind his ear, the warmth of him pressed against Will’s left side.
“Now, take this shard of flint in your right hand. Hold it at an angle so the sharp edge strikes just here,” he said, rubbing the flint where it needed to go. “Strike hard, and keep your fingers out of the way. When it sparks, blow on it gently. Give it oxygen.”
Will struck the flint a few times, getting the feel for it. It didn’t spark, so he turned his wrist a bit so the sharp edges would come in better contact with one another. He struck again, then again.
On the fourth strike, there were sparks.
He laughed, feeling ridiculously proud before doing it again.
A few of the sparks caught on the leaves, so he leaned in and blew on them gently.
There was a crackle, then tiny flames. “Good!” Hannibal beamed, patting him gently on his back. “Keep blowing. Add the kindling just a bit at a time. You don’t want to smother it.”
It took way longer than it would have if they’d had rolled up newspaper, but eventually, they did have a fire. Hannibal set up his big bowl over the flames, using rocks to prop it up high. They carefully poured about a gallon of water into the pan, then waited patiently for it to simmer.
Ten minutes later, they were filling their plastic water bottles with boiling water.
While their drinking water cooled, he and Hannibal went fishing for their dinner. They scraped a few more mussels from the rocks, then used the net to barricade a fish that had swam between the rocks to eat the algae.
“Red Snapper,” Will told Hannibal with a wide smile on his face. “He’s a little guy, but he’ll taste good.”
“Just about two pounds,” Hannibal grinned, picking up the wiggling, spiney, fish. “We’re eating well tonight, beloved.”
Will slipped on the rocks at the term of endearment that was so thoughtlessly tossed at him, landing hard on his ass. “What?” he hissed, rubbing his hip where it slammed into the rocks.
Hannibal blinked at him, holding their fish like he was clutching a sequined purse. “I said, we’re eating well tonight, Will.”
“That’s not what you said,” Will argued, wincing while coming ungracefully back to his feet. “What did you call me?”
“I’ve no idea what you mean,” Hannibal replied dryly. “Did you hurt yourself?”
“That’s- no, I didn’t,” he huffed a breath. “You called me-”
“Will,” Hannibal interjected, “we need to return before the fire goes out. Shall we?”
Deciding it wasn’t worth the argument, he followed, rubbing his sore ass the entire way.
While Hannibal prepped the yams, Will gutted their fish. Cutting it open with the dull little shard of aluminum wasn’t hard, but descaling the fish certainly wasn’t easy.
Using some of their water, Hannibal steamed the cubes of yam and the whole fish, using two sticks to turn them occasionally. He took a few sprigs of green from his little satchel, ripping them up before tossing them into the pan as well.
“What was that?”
Hannibal grinned, reaching out to let Will sniff his fingers. All Will could smell was garlic.
“Garlic greens,” Hannibal beamed. “It’s growing like weeds in the forest.”
“How do you even know what to look for?” Will wondered. “I mean, I’m pretty good with plants, but...”
“Mischa adored gardening,” Hannibal told him softly. His eyes were fixed on their dinner, catching the glow from the fire beneath it. “She loved the idea that she could grow food for us, and we read books about edible plants often. After she passed... I suppose it became a hobby of mine. Something I did to keep her near.”
This was only the second time that they’d spoken of her, and Will knew how much it hurt Hannibal even after all this time. “She saved our lives, you know,” Will remarked. “If she hadn’t been such a botanist, you’d never have learned about it. We’d be here, useless and miserable.”
Hannibal huffed a laugh. “I’d still know what a fig looks like, Will.”
“Sure,” Will grinned. “But instead, I’ll be breathing garlic breath all over you tonight. What a gift,” he laughed.
“You will not be, actually,” Hannibal chuckled. “Tonight, we will begin a dental care routine. It would not do either of us any good to get an abscess.”
“And how are we doing that?”
“You’ll see,” Hannibal winked. “Grab a few yam leaves, please.”
With that, Hannibal ‘plated’ their dinner. It was the fucking best thing that Will ever had, period, end of story.
They sipped their water bottles while Hannibal cleaned the aluminum pan with beach sand and clean water. Once it was scrubbed clean, Hannibal rinsed it with water, then added more water to it to get it boiling.
Will watched as he stripped a few spears of aloe, squeezing the gel into the bubbling water. He added a few sprigs of green from his bag, mashing whatever it was into the pan with a stick.
The scent of mint hit Will’s nose, and he raised an eyebrow at Hannibal, who smirked at him.
“Wild mint?”
“Indeed,” Hannibal nodded. “The aloe has medicinal properties, as I’ve mentioned. A thorough rinsing with this should loosen debris and kill most of the bacteria.”
“And the mint will stop the garlic breath, hopefully,” Will laughed. “You’d do great on Survivor.”
“Is that not what we’re doing? Pass me the empty bottle, please.”
Will handed it off, watching as Hannibal carefully filled the bottle with the green mixture. “We’ll use this while it’s warm,” he suggested. “The hot water will help.”
While they waited for their mouthwash to cool a bit, Will wandered away from the camp to urinate for the first time since they’d gotten here. His urine was darker than he’d like it to be, but that would get better now that they had clean water to drink.
When he got back to camp, Hannibal was swishing the liquid around his mouth, his cheeks puffed up and full. Will laughed while taking the bottle from Hannibal, filling his mouth up so he could do the same.
Afterwards, Hannibal smeared some fresh aloe along Will’s shoulders and the back of his neck, as well as his cheeks and nose. He held the aloe out to Will, nodding his head. “Put some on your lips, Will. They’re terribly chapped.”
He did so without question, sighing in relief when his lips felt better almost immediately.
By the time they curled up in their bed, Will’s belly was full, his teeth were clean, and his mouth wasn’t dry as a desert. Hannibal didn’t wait until Will was shivering this time, instead, he pulled Will’s back against the heat of his chest, letting Will face the dying coals of the fire to keep his face warm.
If he had his dogs, he might say he felt more content than he ever had in his life.
“Hannibal?” he said drowsily.
“Yes, beloved?”
There was that word again. Will was too tired to be annoyed by it. “Thank you. For dinner. For... everything.”
Hannibal squeezed him a little bit, rubbing his distended belly with the palm of his hand. “It was my pleasure.”
He felt as well as heard the other man take a gentle inhale against the nape of his neck, and he chuckled. “I must smell terrible,” he mumbled. “I’m sorry.”
“You smell wonderful,” Hannibal countered. “All the traces of that horrid aftershave are gone.”
“Really don’t like that shit, do you?” Will laughed.
“As always, I much prefer you just as you are,” Hannibal whispered against the skin of his neck. Will shivered, which Hannibal assumed was because he was cold. He pressed himself against Will more firmly, wrapping him like a living blanket. “Sleep, beloved.”
Will wrapped his fingers around Hannibal’s palm over his belly, and sleep took him.
The next day was pretty much quiet. They had figs for breakfast, then rinsed their teeth with Hannibal’s mouthwash. Because they planned to make camp by the waterfall, they used the day to build a signal that would alert people that they were there.
The beach sand was almost white as snow, and the volcanic rocks along the beach were black as onyx. This, they felt, was their best bet.
It took all day, really. They lugged big rocks back and forth, building their signal big enough that it could hopefully be seen by a plane.
“HELP US” was written in black rocks on white sand, almost forty feet in length. If this did not capture anyone’s attention, then nothing would.
By the time they finished, they were too tired to go fishing. Instead, they picked more mussels off the rocks and steamed them with garlic greens and the remainder of their yams.
For dessert, Hannibal boiled some water with Jasmine flowers and mint leaves. It smelled divine, and tasted even better.
“Is that what they use for Jasmine rice?” Will wondered while sipping on his tea. "What's it called? Basmati?"
“Indeed,” Hannibal nodded while picking at a hole in his once-pristine slacks.
“This is good,” Will sighed. “I wish we had sugar, though.”
Hannibal smirked at him, then reached into their bag for a fig. Using the shard of aluminum, he pierced the fruit, then squeezed it into Will’s water bottle. “Try that.”
Will shook it up a bit, then sipped it with a long moan of gratitude. “You’re perfect, you know that?”
Hannibal flashed him an absolutely shocked expression, which made Will feel like chewing his tongue off for saying something so thoughtless.
Both sat in silence for a few moments before Hannibal cleared his throat. “Far from it,” he whispered.
“I didn’t mean- I'm not... I was just saying that, uh. I wasn’t being sarcastic. Really.”
“Weren’t you?” Hannibal countered.
“No! No, I wasn’t being sarcastic. You’ve... you’ve been perfect here. You’ve been... well,”
“Useful,” Hannibal said, pursing his lips. “Whereas before, I was not.”
“Before, you were sticking blades in my belly and in my fucking head,” Will shot back. “Forgive me for finding that less than appealing.”
Just like that, any peace they’d attained was gone with the wind. “I suppose you deserved none of it, then?”
“Deserved?” Will repeated in dumbfounded shock. “What I deserved was watching Abigail die? What I deserved was lying in a combined pool of our blood while you went off to fuck Bedelia? That’s what I fucking deserved?!”
“You knew I loved you,” Hannibal whispered lowly. “You knew it, and you pretended to care for me in return, all while lying to me. Wasn’t I a fool, Will? Building a life for us while you were planning to lock me away.”
“You put me in prison-”
“It was a mistake,” Hannibal said fiercely. “I never- I had no idea what you meant to me when I did it. I tried to fix it, but-”
“But,” Will agreed bitterly. “The damage was done.”
“I didn’t realize it was beyond fixing,” Hannibal whispered. “I thought... I thought you’d forgiven me.”
“I’d love to know where you got that idea,” Will mused humorlessly. “Was it when I was telling you that I wanted to kill you with my bare hands? When I showed up at your house and pointed a gun at your head? When did you think you were forgiven, Hannibal?”
Hannibal looked away from him, a gentle blush rising on his cheeks. “I suppose I’ve never been forgiven,” he whispered. “All the more reason why I am a fool.”
“Don’t do that,” Will spat. “Don’t pretend to be wounded. I was going to leave with you, you idiot. Jack called me to tell me he was heading to your house because Purnell was shutting it down. I didn’t send him after you. I didn’t give him jack shit on you. All he had was his suspicion when he went to your house. I drove like a fucking maniac to get there before him, but... I was too late.”
Hannibal was staring at him with wide eyes. “You... you were planning to leave with me?”
“Yes,” Will sighed in frustration. “I told Jack that I planned to leave with you, too. I called you to warn you. I called to... to hear your voice. You were my friend, Hannibal. Maybe the only one I’ve ever had. Of course, I wanted to leave with you. I never got to say that though, did I?”
Hannibal shifted in the sand, looking for all the world like he’d seen a ghost. “You stepped into my arms because you knew you deserved to be punished.”
Will snorted a humorless laugh. “I stepped into your arms, like an idiot, because I thought you were going to kiss me. For the record, I’m a bigger fool than you’ll ever be.”
Hannibal seemed to be at a loss for words. “We spoke only the night before,” he whispered disbelievingly. “I asked you to leave with me then, but you refused. You’d made your decision.”
“I hadn’t,” Will said thickly. “I decided when I heard your voice. When I realized... I might never see you again. That’s when it hit me. That’s when I knew that I’d follow you anywhere.”
“But you... you didn’t know that Abigail was alive, then,” Hannibal murmured. “You... you believed I had killed her.”
“I did,” Will croaked, hating that his voice sounded so devastated. “I believed you’d killed her, and I was still planning to leave with you. Because I loved you, too, Hannibal. I loved you even though you were fucking around with Alana to hurt me. Even though you killed Bev. Even though you’d taken Abigail from me. Even though you kept fucking hurting me and hurting me, I still loved you. I loved you until you made sure I didn’t.”
Will flinched back as Hannibal rose swiftly to his feet. His first instinct was to grab something to protect himself, but it wasn’t necessary. Hannibal left their camp without a word, heading down the beach that was illuminated in moonlight.
Once he was alone, he let the tears fall freely while sipping his tea that now tasted like bitterness.
Hannibal hadn’t returned by the time he went to bed. It made him anxious, but he was not certain he’d be able to find Hannibal in the darkness. Instead, he added more wood to the fire, hoping that Hannibal would come back soon.
He never meant to say that much. The word vomit that had spewed from his mouth quite frankly shocked him. What was worse was that... it wasn’t the whole truth.
He loved Hannibal then, and... fuck his life, he still loved Hannibal now. Hurting Hannibal had been his goal, and by God, he’d succeeded. Why did it make him feel like shit?
He fell asleep by the warmth of the fire, wiggling uncomfortably once it had all but gone out. A cool breeze blew in from the water, making him shiver uncomfortably on their makeshift bed.
He stuck his arms inside his tee shirt, trying his best to keep his core temperature up. It wasn’t cold enough that he’d get sick, but it was cold enough that he’d never sleep like this.
Pulling himself into a tight little ball, he tried to sleep while the shivers wracked his body. A gentle hand touched his shoulder, startling him awake.
“It’s me,” came Hannibal’s low voice. “Forgive me, Will.”
It wasn’t clear what he wanted forgiveness about, but he had it regardless. “Forgive me, too,” Will pleaded.
Hannibal sighed while settling behind him, but Will wiggled his arms out of his tee shirt and turned so they were facing one another. The coals lit Hannibal’s features, casting shadows. “You’ve had my forgiveness,” Hannibal told him softly, cupping Will’s scruffy cheek in his palm.
“Just like you’ve had mine,” Will promised him softly, reaching to cup his face, too. “I didn’t mean it.”
Hannibal stared at him, weighing his confession. “That you loved me?”
“That I stopped,” Will whispered. “I still do. Even now. After everything.”
Hannibal leaned in slowly, giving Will time to decide if he wanted to be kissed. Every bit of him was screaming that he wanted it more than anything, but still, he leaned away as Hannibal leaned in.
The hurt was written plainly on Hannibal’s handsome face. Will didn’t lean away with the intention of hurting him, even though it did. “Not ready for that,” Will whispered. “I’m not saying that to hurt you, okay? I’m just... telling you where I am, emotionally speaking.”
Hannibal gave him the most hopeful, goofy, smile he’d ever seen, which only made Will want to kiss him all the more. “You’re not saying ‘never,’ then?”
“I’m not saying never,” Will promised, huffing a laugh in spite of himself. “Just... not now.”
“Not now,” Hannibal beamed, wrapping Will in his arms. He laced his fingers into Will’s curls, twirling them in his fingers. “Maybe tomorrow, beloved.”
“Hannibal,” he sighed through another laugh, then rested his ear over Hannibal’s heart.
Things were awkward for them the following morning, but not because of... the near kiss or the word vomited confessions of love. No, things were awkward because Will had the fucking shits.
Like a bird, he thought miserably while squatting in the woods. All he could think about was that he was shitting, and there was no toilet paper.
He was shitting, and- was that poison ivy? Fuck, Will fucking hoped not.
They were supposed to leave the beach today to make camp in the clearing by the waterfall, but Will seriously doubted he would make it far if it kept up like this.
Once he was finished, he had no way of cleaning himself. He eyed the somewhat reddish leaves around his feet, hoping to God that he wasn’t shitting in poison ivy before shedding his pants completely.
Hannibal was fixing their HELP US sign, so while he was distracted, Will dashed to the ocean and rinsed himself as cleanly as he could. It was pointless, because he immediately felt the telltale gurgle that let him know he had minutes to get back into the woods.
Hannibal was watching him, which only made him mortified as he dashed, devoid of pants or underwear, back into the woods.
“Will?” came his hesitantly concerned voice. Will was behind a tree, but there was no way Hannibal couldn’t hear what was happening.
Or worse, smell what was happening.
“I’ve got a parasite,” Will moaned miserably. “I have dysentery or something. Fuck, Hannibal, I am going to die.”
“Will,” Hannibal sighed. “We’ve eaten nothing but figs and seafood. It’s just your stomach being unused to this kind of diet.”
“Please go away,” Will damn near sobbed. “Don’t listen to this! Dig a hole for me so I can fling my fucking dead body in it!”
“Will,” he repeated with another long-suffering sigh. “You’re going to be alright. I’ll boil some water because you need to be drinking if you’re having-” He paused as Will suffered another round. “Diarrhea.”
“Hannibal!” Will gasped, holding his stomach as it cramped. “If you don’t go fuck off right now, I will never speak to you again. Do you understand me?”
“I was a doctor,” came the indignant reply. “Is it bloody?”
“No!”
“Good,” Hannibal sounded pleased. “Is it dark? Blackish?”
“It’s shit!” Will exclaimed. “Just watery shit!”
“Perfectly normal, then,” Hannibal sniffed. “Perhaps we’ll forego figs for today.”
“Is this poison ivy?” Will asked after his stomach gave him a brief reprieve. “There?”
“No,” Hannibal assured him. “It looks like it though, doesn’t it?”
“Oh fuck,” Will sobbed. “I cannot get poison ivy right now. I can’t!”
“You’re being hysterical,” Hannibal muttered. “Calm down, alright? I’ll go boil some water, and you can... er, finish up.”
“My pants are in the bushes,” Will said while blushing to his ears. “Please bring them back to camp. I won’t be needing them.”
“As you wish.”
His day was spent hiding from Hannibal, running from the bushes to the ocean and back again. Hannibal brought him water, so he sipped that when he wasn’t shitting his stomach lining out.
In the early afternoon, the worst of it seemed to pass.
Hannibal must have been keeping an eye on him, because his pants, freshly rinsed and sun-dried, were now on the rocks where he’d been going to rinse clean.
He pulled them on, swaying on his feet.
By the time he came back to camp, he felt hollow inside.
Hannibal was there with steamed yams, which he served to Will without broth or garlic greens. It was ridiculously bland, but it filled Will’s stomach with something other than watery gurgling.
“You look awful,” Hannibal informed him. “Get some rest, darling.”
“We need to be going,” Will said after a little bite of dry yam.
“And we will,” Hannibal promised him. “Tomorrow. When you’re feeling better. Go rest beneath the sail. Stay out of the sun.”
He finished his yam, then did exactly as Hannibal said.
He awoke to Hannibal boiling more water, but this time with mint, Jasmine flowers, and a bit of aloe. There was a square of torn sail in the pan, which Hannibal was stirring with a stick. He watched drowsily as Hannibal removed the pan from the fire, using a few big leaves so he wouldn’t burn his hands.
He drifted in and out, waking up only when a cool, sweet-scented cloth smoothed over his face.
“What’re you doing?” Will drawled.
“Cleaning you up,” Hannibal sniffed. “I will not be sharing a bed with you smelling like this.”
“It’s not shit, is it?” Will asked miserably.
“No,” Hannibal chuckled. “Just sickly sweat. This will take care of that,” he promised.
The cloth was warm, so Will let Hannibal dote on him. Using the last bit of his strength, he took his tee shirt off and let Hannibal give him a sponge bath.
Hannibal’s eyes were positively burning while he cleaned Will’s skin, and if Will were capable of arousal at that moment, he might have been receptive. As it was, with his asshole raw as sin, he was in no mood.
Will sighed while Hannibal cleaned him gently, wringing the cloth out now and again. He had to admit that it felt fucking wonderful. If he could, he would immerse his entire body in that sweet-smelling water, but that was not an option.
“You know,” Will drawled, “some people dream of island get aways like this.”
“Do they?” Hannibal grinned. He’d never seen Hannibal with a beard, but he was well on his way to having one. It suited him, honestly.
“Days in the sun by the ocean. Fresh fruit and seafood. A beautiful cabana person who’ll bring them anything they need.”
Hannibal’s eyes glittered at him. “Am I the beautiful cabana person?”
Will nodded. “And the spa person. And the chef. I got a beautiful resort manager to dote on me. Aren’t I lucky?”
“You forgot doctor,” Hannibal said, looking for all the world like he was blushing. “I am that too, you know.”
“How could I forget, Dr. Lecter?” he teased.
Hannibal tipped his head while dragging the cloth down Will’s throat. “Have you opened up to me emotionally because we are stranded? Or is it the result of trauma bonding?”
“There’s no therapy sessions on beach resorts,” Will countered with a sneer.
Hannibal at least stayed quiet, even though Will could feel him brooding.
“I’m sharing with you because you’re my friend,” Will sighed. “Isn’t that enough?”
Judging by Hannibal’s face, it was not enough. “Just a friend, then?”
“Hannibal,” Will murmured. “I’ve had a long day, okay?”
“Do you love me as a brother?” Hannibal went on.
“I’ve never had a brother,” Will huffed. “But I don’t think so, no.”
“As a friend, only?”
Will groaned while dropping his head back against the cushion. “I’ve never really had friends either, but I am guessing not.”
“As a father figure?” Hannibal asked hesitantly.
“Oh God, no,” Will grimaced. “Not... not as a father. Jesus, what is with you?”
“I’m merely considering what you said to me last night,” Hannibal said thoughtfully. “I was wondering if it was nothing more than the semi-conscious words uttered by a man that did not mean them.”
“I meant them,” Will promised, taking Hannibal’s hand as he washed Will’s chest. “Hannibal, I still love you. I want to kiss you-” Hannibal leaned in, and Will pressed his palm against his face. “Will you listen to me? I love you. Romantically. Toxically. Potentially life threateningly. I love you. Can you save this conversation for when my asshole is less inflamed?”
Hannibal licked his lips, nuzzling into Will’s palm. “So, not today.”
“Not today,” Will sighed affectionately, completely overwhelmed by him.
“Maybe tomorrow, then,” he grinned before tossing the dirty rag aside.
He was a pain in Will’s ass, but there was nothing to be done about it. Will tugged his tee back on, then Hannibal held him close.