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The first evening is somewhat weird.
Will feels a little out of place with Hannibal spending the weekend with them because he is unaccustomed to having anyone else in the house except him and the dogs. He fumbles as he helps Hannibal with his suitcase, almost dropping it when Hannibal reaches out to assist.
Their fingertips made a fleeting contact, sending a startling thrill through Will. He puts on a poker face to hide his emotions, his desires, and the longing that settles in his soul, and shuffles into the home, where they are greeted by a horde of joyful dogs.
Will's anxiety rises even higher when the dogs swarm Hannibal, who is not fond of the fur babies but tolerates them simply because Will loves them. They crowd him, sniffing him, slobbering kisses onto his hands, rubbing fur on his expensive clothes, and insistently nudging his hand to demand pets.
Will intends to correct their behavior with a sharp hiss; however, Hannibal is not ill at ease—if anything, he is more relaxed in Will's home than Will. He offers the dogs bites of sausage, earning him a few licks he could do without, but still appreciates their slobbery kisses because the happy pups' affection makes Will smile.
While Hannibal unpacks his luggage, Will jitterily paces back and forth from one foot to the other. Naturally, Hannibal observes his unease. “Will, please, calm down. This weekend will be in vain if you are out of sorts in your own home.” He speaks so professionally, perfectly at ease in Will's home.
Will scratches his neck, a little skittish and unsure of what to do with himself now that Hannibal is in his home for the very first time. They are not—how would you put it? Lovers? Boyfriends? They are close friends, but they have also kissed—only once, a little peck on the lips after a fine dinner and a glass of wine at Hannibal's house.
Will always felt soothed when he was around Hannibal, but that was also when he was in Hannibal's space—at his home or his office, even in his car. Now, Hannibal is in his space, and it should not feel foreign, yet it does, and Will doesn’t like that. He wants the easy comfort they have around each other now, like all the times before.
Hannibal, bless him, is nothing but kind to try to ease Will's worry. “Will, you must relax. If I am to observe you this weekend so I can monitor your habits prior to sleep and while you sleep, you must come and go as you normally would.”
That was the point of this sleepover weekend. Will had been investing more time at crime scenes: this latest one with the Angel Maker got too deep into his mind, forcing him to look closer at evil in all its nightmarish glory. His punishment came in the form of disturbing nightmares and sleepwalking.
Will was only getting about two or three hours of sleep a night, and with such little rest, it was severely affecting not only his work but also his mental health. He was hallucinating more often, and once Jack had to lightly slap his cheek to get him to come back to his own mind. Another time, Will accidentally contaminated evidence, not even realizing he had touched it without wearing gloves.
He was not eating, and he nearly fainted a few times. He was spiraling downhill, and while Will had not harmed himself yet, the jumpiness and anxiety were getting under his skin...he had scratched his arms up pretty badly. But the final limit that forced Jack to go to Hannibal and ask that the good doctor do something to help Will was when Will, in a dreamlike trance, walked head-on into traffic at a crime scene. It was nothing short of a miracle that the driver was able to stop in time.
Jack threatened to bench him after the case was solved, promising to keep him in the classroom or in the lab, but Jack needed Will in the field because he saw things no one else did; he was the best profiler in the state. Which left Jack asking Hannibal to help Will. Without treatment, Will ran the risk of being a danger to himself and others.
So, Hannibal was here with Will on a Friday night, intending to monitor him and then produce a treatment to try and help him sleep better and keep his mind safe from the dark nightmares that were haunting him. Stepping closer, Hannibal gently rubs his hand up and down Will's arm, and the knot in Will's tummy tightens because all he wants to do is kiss Hannibal...his lips look so soft, but he resists, even though he wishes he could just grab Hannibal and kiss the very breath out of him.
The more Hannibal gently caresses his arm in a soothing stroke, the more slowly that knot eases, and Will finds that he relaxes a tiny bit. Hannibal checks his watch, just as Winston whines and looks at the kitchen. “It is six thirty. What would you be doing at this moment if I were not here?”
The dogs answer for him, woofing and swishing their tails happily as they slowly move towards the kitchen. Will grins at his pups because they knew it was dinner time, his joy making his eyes light up and twinkle, and Hannibal savors that look of happiness as he grins in return. He loves seeing Will so delightful. “I would be preparing dinner for myself and the pups.”
“Then let's go.” With a hand on his lower back, Hannibal nudges Will towards the kitchen as his cheeks flush warmly.
Dinner is sloppy Joes and French fries with sweet iced tea for Will and Hannibal and cooked ground beef with cut-up vegetables for the pups. That nervous feeling returns in full bloom when they sit down because Hannibal is a man of such refined tastes that Will feels stupid for offering him one of the messiest meals in America.
But he doesn’t turn his nose up at it. He digs in with gusto—with a knife and a fork, of course, because while Joe may be sloppy, Hannibal is not. After dinner, it's a little easier on Will. Hannibal sits in the chair with a sketchpad while Will sits on the floor playing with the dogs, and there is a comforting presence for Will—he has his pups and his best friend, and life is good for him.
Buster and Zoe grumble for the top spot on Will's lap before deciding to share their human daddy. Will gives the pups ear scratches and tummy rubs between tossing the ball to Winston and playing tug of war with Max. Hannibal watches him, noticing how Will grins with such childish innocence and giggles when the pups nuzzle him or happily bark. He makes baby talk to his pups, and it's the cutest thing Hannibal has ever seen. He hides his smile behind the sketchpad. It's so odd to see Will like that—so happy and carefree.
It’s a gift to Hannibal, and he makes a place for this moment in his memory palace. Keeping it safe alongside the memory of their very first meeting, when Will was a little rude but got away with it because he was so damn cute, and Hannibal wanted to kiss him rather than eat him.
After a potty break for the pups once the sun has set, Will again begins to feel uneasy because Hannibal has brushed his teeth and combed his hair and is now stripping out of his three-piece suit to change into his pajamas. It hits Will that they are about to share a bed for the very first time. He watches as Hannibal folds his shirt and tucks it into his suitcase, and all Will wants to do is run his fingers through the gray hair on Hannibal's chest.
He sort of gazes in admiring desire: Hannibal is sculpted much like a magnificent stone statue at a lavish art museum, and here Will is, not unfit at all, but his tummy is a little softer and his muscles are not as defined as Hannibal's, and he feels strange in his own skin.
But Hannibal just smiles at him, one sweet little grin that is so fond and kind, and like magic, Will feels a bit more at ease. He shimmies out of his jeans and leaves his blue boxers and shirt on, but even dressed, he feels naked.
“Shall we?” Hannibal lifts the bedsheet, and Will nods a bit more enthusiastically than he intended, his curls flopping in his face as his cheeks flush rosy red. When they are finally in bed, Hannibal on the left and Will on the right, Will sort of melts simply by being so close to Hannibal. That familiar calmness and ease came to him. He has always been comfortable around those he is closest to, and of everyone in his life, Jack, Alana, and Team Sassy Science, he is the closest to Hannibal.
Will squirms around, trying to find a place to lie, flipping from his back to his belly, then his side. He huffs when he cannot find a comfortable place to rest. “What's wrong, Will?” Hannibal gently brushes a stray strand of hair from his eyes before his fingers rest on his cheek.
Will feels the soothing heat from Hannibal's skin melt into his, and it makes little tingles flow through him. “Nothing...it just..." He feels awkward again, unable to look Hannibal in the eye. “It's just that I usually cuddle with one of my dogs.”
Will knows that that is not going to happen. Hannibal is not one to lie so close to a mutt in bed, but he can offer a close alternative. “If you would be comfortable with it, I can cuddle with you.”
Will softly loses his breath for a moment. The thought of curling up in those strong arms, feeling safe for the first time in what felt like years, and having such tender intimacy with Hannibal felt like a dream come true.
It was all he wanted, more than anything in this world! But it was also a nightmare because he thrashes and kicks in his nightmares, and he sweats so badly he is soaked to the bone. He does not want Hannibal to get a knee to the crotch or have his awfully expensive pajamas ruined by Will sweating all over him.
But Will takes the risk. He slowly wiggles closer until he feels Hannibal's chest against his back. That skittish knot in his tummy swells when he feels Hannibal's groin against his bottom. He forces himself not to push his hips back, even though he desperately wants to—he has had a few wet dreams about Hannibal, not that he has been brave enough to tell him that. Those dreams of passion stay in his closed memory palace.
When Hannibal's arms come around him and give him a little squeeze, softly snuggling him, Will goes completely boneless. In one big breath, he breathes out all the anxiety and stress. Hannibal nuzzles his neck for a moment, and it makes him laugh, before Hannibal settles with his chin on Will's shoulder, and Will is tucked tight to his chest and spooned in a blissful snuggle.
Sleep comes so quickly to him that night—at least for a few hours before the darkness awakens and snarls and claws at him until he wakes up panting and shaking. Will should be resting, but he is tangled in the blanket draped across his lower waist. He was making the most pathetic whimpers Hannibal had ever heard, his throat tight and dry as he gasped.
“Do you want to talk about it?” Hannibal brushes a strand of curls away from Will’s eyes.
Will shivers and whines, holding back tears as his hand lightly brushes across Hannibal’s chest. “No, I just want to close my eyes and not see monsters.” He scratches at his arms, his nails leaving angry marks.
Hannibal gently cuddles him, stopping him so he does not hurt himself. It is a relief that Will has not taken more drastic measures to deal with the darkness; he could have self-harmed. Hannibal lovingly places a palm on his cheek, tentatively stroking away a few stray tears that fall down Will's cheeks.
His fingers trail down Will’s spine as he presses his face into his neck, breathing in a shaky gasp. “Sleep,” Hannibal whispers, pressing his face into Will’s curls.
Will shakes his head again. He doesn't want to see more darkness. He was exhausted and heavyhearted, and some soothing rest would do him well, but he couldn't find good dreams.
That gave Hannibal pause. “Do you have a large blanket, Will?”
“In the upstairs closet.”
Hannibal untangles himself from Will, pausing to brush a kiss on his forehead that makes Will's tummy tingle and causes his heart to skip a beat. The dogs watch him with worried eyes and soft whimpers, but he shushes them sweetly, “It's okay, guys. I'm alright. Hannibal's going to fix me.”
The dogs remain in their beds as Hannibal returns with a large quilt. “What are you doing?” Will is not fearful but curious. Hannibal motions for Will to move over, and he does, watching as Hannibal spreads out the large blanket. “I'm going to swaddle you.”
Will has never heard of such a thing. “W-what is that?"
“It's the art of wrapping an adult into a blanket so tightly that they cannot move. You spoke about zipping yourself up in a sleeping bag as a makeshift straight jacket to aid in your sleeping, but I think this will be more comfortable. In you go.”
Will, so trusting, rolls over onto the blanket and onto his back. One side of the blanket wrap crosses his chest with his arms at his sides, then the other follows the same flow to cross as well, so tightly woven that when Will gives a little nudge, the blanket doesn't budge. Hannibal tucks the end of the cloth into Will's feet and rolls him over onto his side, easily binding him.
It was a little scary that he couldn't move, but he was also warm within, and the blanket was so soft and smelled like lavender. With the blanket so tight, the light pressure felt good on his body, like a hug without arms, so calming and comforting.
“I can't move.” Will notes, however, being trapped in the bondage of a blanket is strangely peaceful.
Hannibal reclaims his spot beside Will, spooning him from behind. He wraps around Will like an octopus; his hugging arms give even more pressure to Will's body, and Will feels it—the heavenly peace that comes to him so quickly that his eyes close and his breathing evens out.
Hannibal's arms, along with the puffy blanket, cause him no distress, only a calming, easy feeling of safety. Dreams quickly come to Will, and this time, the nightmares are kept at bay. He falls asleep with a soft smile on his face. Hannibal doesn't sleep. He watches Will dream with such sweet and easy peace.
He takes a moment to admire the sleeping beauty lying in his arms before he noses at his neck and scents him, just like he did a few days ago in his office. Will had caught him inquiring, “Did you just smell me?” and Hannibal brushed it off as disapproving of his aftershave, but he smelled it then.
The scent was not extraordinarily strong, only a faint smell lurking under the surface of Will's skin. Encephalitis, slowly festering like a wound. Will displayed disturbing psychiatric behavior, including hallucinations and disorientation, as a result, and Hannibal quickly put two and two together.
He told Jack he was doing this out of the goodness of his heart for the safety of his dear Will, but the truth was that Hannibal was just biding his time. Let the illness run its course; let Will shatter, and then, in his most broken moment, Hannibal will claim him as his own.
He had slowly been molding Will into his perfect mate...slowly breaking the bond he had with Jack by making Will question Uncle Jack's motives. Feeding him rude humans. Slowly guiding Will to his side.
Giving him reassuring praise and returning his affection little by little will make Will want more. A few lies and manipulations, along with Will's frail headspace, would mold Will into a mate just as dark and deadly as he is, until the day came when they would dance naked in the moonlight, bathed in blood, having become such wicked monsters that even the devil himself would bow before them.
Until that day came when Will was by his side, his perfect companion, Hannibal waited patiently. Allowing the madness in Will's mind to drive him right into Hannibal's waiting arms.
♥ END ♥