Work Text:
If there was any room to doubt the veracity of Hannibal’s feelings and the commitment he had to their relationship, Will had eradicated it for good and all quite early in their time together on the lam.
The reason Will could almost certainly trust Hannibal wholeheartedly after years of manipulation, underhanded plans within plans and incarceration on Hannibal’s part, was due to the existence of a simple apparatus in Hannibal’s kitchen.
The damnable microwave.
Will stood before it as it rotated amiably in front of him, warming his leftover instead of heating it on a pan. Doggy snuffing echoed down the hall towards him and he smiled at the domesticity of it despite the vastness of Hannibal’s culinary domain.
Their kitchen was one part of the reason why Hannibal had chosen the cozy and ‘modest’ two-story Spanish tiled house they were currently living in. When Hannibal had explained it, Will had no objection to how lavish the place was. But it was distinctly more muted than Hannibal’s previous home was. The house’s red tiled roof complimented well with the large green lawn dotted with small but carefully curated flowers on its edges, bringing a sort of contrast and balance as well as colour to the exterior. Where there was a mass of decor in Hannibal’s interior design prior to this, the house had warmth to it due in large part to the wood panelled walls, floors and soft earthy palette of the furniture and art pieces around the house. Will noticed when Hannibal had him in mind when designing the space, a wonder since they were both in a haze of blood and healing after their fall and run.
The house had more than just accent pieces to it but almost everything had a function, taking into account Will’s practicality. Where a bowl of some decoration may have sat in Hannibal’s home, now doubled as a key and change bowl – though Hannibal hated having loose change around the house. Nooks and crannies now could store doggy accessories where it used to be racks dedicated to the expensive leather shoes Hannibal wore as a psychiatrist. Of course, Hannibal still had his bespoke Italian loafers of some sort, it now was very carefully hidden higher so as to avoid doggy reach and sloppy teeth. Out of sight and out of mind for the loving consideration of their furry pet, of course.
But the microwave was something Will had requested. It was partly a test of sorts, to see how far Will could go in their new dynamic, in this new house, in this new domain. For as much as decor and living space could be made in consideration for him, the kitchen would not.
Hannibal’s eyes had a dark look as he asked of it and Will saw in depths some deep frustration. But it was quickly shut away and Hannibal had merely smiled cryptically. Will had half-expected a rejection for his odd and outrageous request, merely for the excuse that he wanted to heat pop tarts.
But the very next day the contraption arrived and had slotted into the kitchen space effortlessly. Will had stared in shock at the large black square, meshed between the oven and the large cupboards, sitting atop the counter looking very out of space in the very meticulously designed kitchen. Will wondered what decoration had been sacrificed to make room for his lame excuse of a test. Hannibal walked in behind him, kissing him on the cheek and simply donning his apron like it was any other day. Will moved to gaze at Hannibal’s face and all he saw was a fond smile and a tender twinkle in Hannibal’s eyes. Will's own bloomed around his coffee cup and he softly replied, “I love you too.”