“Goddam stupid fuckin’ - ”
He hardly notices the rain at first, so intent is he on getting out of the house, getting away from the most infuriating, frustrating, stubborn man in the world. But within moments he’s soaked to the skin, the rain coming straight down in sheets, not a breath of wind to disturb it. And of course, he didn’t pause to pick up his jacket or an umbrella before storming out the front door.
Face stops dead for a moment, anger fading a little, wondering if he should just go back to the house. But he can picture it: Hannibal just looking at him with that smirk on his face, holding out a towel, probably making some smart comment about the weather being less than ideal. He doesn’t think he can deal with another shouting match at the moment, and since he’s already drenched he figures he might as well head on out to the barn, so he turns his feet in that direction, swiping his sodden hair back from his forehead as he goes.
“Face! Wait up!” He hangs his head as he starts moving again, shaking the water from his eyes. Of course Hannibal would follow him out, and he picks up his pace, watching his footing on the slippery cobbles.
“Back off, Hannibal,” he shouts back over his shoulder. “I don’t wanna talk, I don’t wanna go over it all again.”
The sound of the rain hitting hard on the stones can’t quite disguise the sound of pounding boots as the Colonel runs after him, sure-footed as always. “Don’t be so stubborn, kid,” Hannibal calls, closer now. “You’ll drown out here.”
He laughs at that, still moving, refusing to turn around. The rain is coming down harder now, but he’s not going to drown. Not unless Hannibal pushes him face-first into a puddle. “You’re calling me stubborn? Pot, meet kettle!”
“I know it wasn’t ideal, I know you’re mad at me - ”
“Mad at you?” That slams him to a stop, and he turns at last to see his lover close behind. He takes some savage pleasure in seeing Hannibal almost slip over as he stops hurriedly, although that is quickly quashed when he notes that the older man took the time to pull on his big rain slicker before following him into the storm. “Hannibal, ‘mad’ doesn’t even begin to cover it! How many times have you told me not to put my life at risk unnecessarily? How many lectures have you given me over the years about not being so damn stupid? And then you go and do that - ” He can’t think about it even now without a shiver shooting down his spine, seeing Hannibal on his knees, gun pressed to his temple, a second away from death. “ – And you can’t even think why it bothered me?”
“Face.” The Colonel’s expression is firm underneath his hood, rainwater dripping off the brim in a steady flow. “It was the only way. And it all worked out in the end.”
Shaking his head, Face turns again, hating the way his thin shirt is now completely plastered to his body, water sloshing in his expensive loafers. Damn, those will never dry out properly. “Leave it, Hannibal. We’ll talk about it in the morning. I don’t want to argue with you anymore tonight.”
A strong hand on his shoulder stops him before he can move far, and he feels the heat of Hannibal’s body as his lover steps close behind him. “Temp…”
“Don’t,” he warns, feeling his body tense. He’s tired and frustrated and he really, really doesn’t want to fight anymore, but if Hannibal tries to force him back to the house he knows he’s going to instinctively resist. And he won’t win that fight.
For a moment they are frozen in place, that heavy hand pinning Face where he stands as he just waits to see what Hannibal’s move will be. All around them there is silence apart from the heavy sound of the rain pounding the ground, the lighter sound as it bounces off the Colonel’s waterproof jacket. The lightest wind now, gusting slightly, the rain blowing into Face’s eyes and blurring his vision. At this point, he couldn’t be any wetter if he’d dived into a lake.
When it comes, Hannibal’s move isn’t what Face expects. That strong hand flexes slightly before another one pushes gently on his hip, turning him in place until they stand face to face. He goes willingly in the end, growing cold now, just wanting this to be over, whatever this is.
Hannibal’s face is wet too, despite his hood and heavy jacket, and Face startles a little to see those blue-grey eyes he loves so very much a little wet too, from moisture of a different kind. “Temp, I…” His lover stutters to a stop, shaking his head, before those two strong hands are suddenly on his cheeks, cradling his head firmly, pulling him in.
The kiss is fierce, all-consuming, and all Face can do is submit, all thoughts of struggle blown out of his mind. Hannibal kisses him like it is the end of the world, a bruising pressure on his lips, hands holding so tight to his face that it’s almost as if he’s scared Face will disappear. The rain continues to batter them both, the wind gusting stronger now, and Face falls further into Hannibal’s strong grasp as the colonel pushes a demanding tongue inside, opening Face up wider.
Almost involuntarily, Face brings his arms up to lock around his lover’s broad shoulders, fisting the slick material in his chilled fingers as Hannibal keeps that death grip on his head, using it to tilt him into the rain ever so slightly, crowding in and leaning over him. That insistent tongue strokes over his teeth, his palate, his own tongue, demanding everything he has, and Face struggles only a little now as air starts to become an issue, Hannibal not letting up for a moment.
He is lightheaded when his lover eventually pulls back a fraction, that grip on his head not easing even a little, and he gasps in oxygen as he sags a little in Hannibal’s hold. The colonel’s eyes are burning now, and Face feels warm despite the shivers setting in as his soaked body presses closer to the other man’s heat.
“Dammit, kid.” Hannibal sounds out of breath as well, keeping their foreheads pressed close together, slick skin sliding easily. “I didn’t mean to scare you, you know that. But you never have to run from me, okay?”
Face tries to nod, but can’t move even that much. “Boss, I just… You have to listen to me, acknowledge me - ” His words are stolen as Hannibal presses back in for another kiss, and he hisses a little as sharp teeth nip his bottom lip hard enough to draw blood. His lover continues to suckle the cut for a moment, the following kiss tasting of copper mixed with tobacco and that distinctive, unique flavour that is Hannibal himself. One big hand slips around to the back of his head now, pulling him even closer than he thought possible, wrapping into his wet hair and tugging ever so slightly.
“I always listen to you, Lieutenant,” Hannibal growls when he breaks them apart again, Face gasping once more, his protests fast being washed away in the relentless rain and all-consuming kisses. “But sometimes I have to do things you won’t like. I’m in charge, do you hear me?”
“You’re in charge,” he breathlessly agrees. No sooner are the words out of his mouth than Hannibal is back on him again, no doubt at all as to the more dominant male in their relationship. Face secretly hates being made to feel like the weaker man, but then his lover bends him over easily – like he is doing now – and steals all his air, no space at all between their bodies, the rain washing over them and around them, and he can’t remember why he thinks he hates it so much, held secure and safe in that strong embrace, surprisingly soft lips kissing him into oblivion.
Around them the storm grows stronger, the first crash of thunder sounding in the distance, and he can’t quite keep back his whimper as Hannibal pulls back, hands guiding Face back upright before dropping away, steady fingers moving to loosen the zip and fastenings on his raincoat. But it isn’t until his lover pulls that jacket open that he realises what the other man is planning, brain still a little fried from the overwhelming kiss.
“Stop, Hannibal, don’t - ”
“You’ll drown out here, kid.” Face can’t help but smile at the protective note in Hannibal’s deep voice, even as his lungs still gasp for oxygen. “Come here.” And he goes willingly into the offered warmth as his lover pulls him into his chest, tugging the jacket as far around Face’s back as it will reach. Hannibal’s body is a furnace of heat, and Face doesn’t waste any time feeling guilty as his soaked body is finally sheltered from the worst of the rain, sheltered by his lover.
As Hannibal stretches down to him, Face tilts his head up and their lips meet in a more gentle kiss this time, though no less passionate. As the rain continues to batter them, as the thunder sounds closer, as the first flash of lightning splits the sky, the two men lose themselves in each other, tongues lapping gently, lips caressing. Face knows his lover well enough to know that this is his way of saying ‘sorry’, just as he knows himself well enough to know he still won’t forgive Hannibal for scaring him today.
But for all that, standing there in the rain kissing the man he would follow into hell and back, Face wouldn’t change a thing.