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I Say It Very Quietly

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When Will had been told there had been not one, but two dead bodies in Hannibal’s office- his ears began to ring. It was so deafening that he cupped his hands over his ears desperately searching for respite, when Jack saw this he attributed Will’s stance to the gunshot that went off near his ear- not the one Will felt through his heart at the words. Dead. Dead. Dead. Two bodies. Hannibal? Please- anyone but Hannibal. 

The thought of Hannibal laying there in a pool of his own blood, growing cold and stiff with each passing second was enough to cause Will to retch. He did not even have to step into the room to have a scene play out vividly in his mind- but he needed to see. He needed to see what had been done to Hannibal. 

Though it was not a moment of lost time for him, Will had no recollection of the moments in between standing in Tobias Budge’s shop with Jack and walking into Hannibal’s practice. He notes the two bodies on the floor from the doorway, he breathes a steady breath for the first time since Jack found him. No Hannibal on the floor. He keeps walking. Hannibal at his des- oh he’s bleeding. Will is struck with the intense feeling that had the man who had bloodied the face of the psychiatrist not been dead, he would have wanted to kill him. 

He walked past Jack, never removing his eyes from Hannibal who had in turn held his gaze as Will made his way over and perched on the man’s desk. His shin brushed Hannibal’s knee, causing Will to look down where he noticed Hannibal’s arm.  A wound, Hannibal is hurt. Will feels- rage, it is momentary but blinding. His mind is a mantra of Hannibal, hurt, and a litany of nos. 

He is snapped out of his reverie by soft accented words, “I was worried you were dead.” He is looking up at Will with glassy eyes, blood on his face, hair disheveled. All Will wanted to do was touch , caress, examine and make sure for himself that Hannibal was okay.  Their soft moment is interrupted by Jack and his questions, his gruff voice grating on Will’s already sensitive ears. When the man finally removed himself from their space Will opened his mouth to say something, anything to Hannibal, tell him how worried he himself was- or to assure the man that he was fine. No words come though. 

What did happen is his hand reached up on seemingly its own accord and brushed Hannibal’s bangs out of his eyes, hand coming to rest on the man’s cheek. His only thoughts at that moment being, beautiful, hurt, and mine to protect. That last one has him snatching his hand back quickly, surprised by the bout of possessiveness that had just run through him. He clears his throat trying to cover his movements by grabbing for a piece of gauze and dabbing gently at a wound on Hannibal’s forehead whilst saying, “I feel like I’ve dragged you into my world.” 

Hannibal reaches up with his uninjured arm, fingers coming to wrap around the hand fussing at his head- causing it to still. He plucked the gauze out Will’s hand, tossed it on the desk before maneuvering the still captured hand back to its position on his own cheek. He smiles then, soft in a way one would never associate with Hannibal Lecter, and says, “I got here on my own, but I appreciate the company.” 


Hannibal’s breath had hitched when he saw Will enter behind Jack. He had thought him dead, the notion had caused rage to flow through him- the result being the two dead bodies in the room. The mere thought that someone had taken Will Graham away from him caused his chest to constrict and his desire to shed blood prevail. 

He was angry when he sent Will to Tobias, angry because the man had so casually entered his home discussing how kissable he found Alana Bloom. He didn’t think himself irrational until Tobias Budge had stood before him, covered in blood, alluding to taking his love away.  When Will perches himself on his desk, Hannibal wants to lean in. To lay his head on Will’s thigh and ask for forgiveness, he wants to reassure himself that the man is here in front of him, he wants Will to allay his fears. But instead, he chooses softly spoken words that merely scrape the surface of his feelings. 

When Will cups his cheek he presses into the contact before it is so cruelly snatched away, but no- no. He won’t have that. He stills Will’s fidgety hands and returns it to his cheek, holding it there with his own. Their eyes are locked, both enjoying the casual intimacy when Hannibal turns his head and presses a kiss into the skin of Will’s palm, he smiles at the quiet intake of breath elicited from the other man.

“Thank you for coming here,” he murmurs into the other man’s hand. Before bringing both their hands down, he doesn’t loosen his hold- rather he tangles their fingers and lets their hands hang between them. He waits for the inevitability of Will pulling away.

Will Graham, ever unpredictable Will Graham, furrows his brows at Hannibal’s statement. Fingers tightening against the older man’s before quietly- confusedly asking, “how could I have gone anywhere else?”