Chapter Text
Will rubs at his eyes behind his glasses, trying to ward off what feels like the beginnings of a migraine. The light from the fire is too bright, but the heat feels wonderful on his face after being outside with the dogs. Buster still hasn’t adjusted to city life, or Hannibal’s museum-like house, and Winston insists on sleeping in their bed, much to Hannibal’s disdain. So, Will has been working more with them on commands and signals, but they all seem to focus better outside in the backyard. Where it’s currently below thirty.
To say that Will was surprised when Hannibal asked him -and all of the dogs- to move in would be an understatement. Then again, it’s only until they compromise on something of their own making. Will prefers solitude and quiet, whereas Hannibal enjoys the bustling life that comes with the city. It seems more likely that they’ll wind up building, but nothing has been set in stone yet.
Well, except that, wherever they go, the basement needs to be large, and so does the guest bedroom.
Sighing, Will takes a slow slip of his whiskey and considers, once again, why either of those two things need to be significantly sized. It’s not as though the basement has seen any use, nor has the idea of play been incorporated in… Christ. Months.
It’s as though Hannibal would rather pretend that he’s not a Dominant, or a murderer. Despite Will’s best attempts to remind him otherwise. There’s no use in pretending anymore, and Will doesn’t want him to. If anything, Will had thought Hannibal would look forward to sharing that part of himself with Will.
But, fuck, Will doesn’t even need the murder at this point. Just a spanking would do.
Will’s been avoiding the conversation, because he knows Hannibal will be Hannibal. He’ll give Will exactly what he wants, and that’s the problem. Will doesn’t want it because he wants it, he wants Hannibal to want to give it to him. Will is a submissive, and yes, vanilla sex with Hannibal is great but there’s a collar -temporary collar, his brain supplies- sitting at his throat and it’s supposed to mean something.
Will doesn’t know why Hannibal is being this way but he’s going to find out. He’s tired, and agitated, and sick of dancing around issues that he’d thought had already been resolved.
“Have you and the small one reached an agreement?”
Will looks up to see Hannibal standing next to his chair, shirtless, wearing silk pajama bottoms and his hair still slightly damp from the shower. The fire dances in shadows across his bare skin and still, even now, Will can’t bear to look away from him.
“He still hates it here,” Will answers, swallowing the roughness from his voice as he tugs Hannibal to stand between his legs. “We’ve gotta find him some place with land. He’s a roamer.”
“You’ve yet to give me a definitive answer,” Hannibal says, combing his fingers through Will’s hair as he looks down at him. “We can start looking for land, darling. I’m sure there’s an abundance of options for us.”
Darling . It’s sweet, yeah, and the first ten times it made Will’s stomach twist but, God, how he misses other names. Names spoken with a hard edge and a warning. On your knees, boy .
“Let’s call the realtor tomorrow. We should’ve just agreed to build from the fucking beginning.”
How many strokes are you aiming for, slave?
“It’s a large decision. It’s only logical that you’d need time to think it over.”
“You make it sound as though it’s only mine.”
Hannibal leans down and kisses Will gently, dragging his lips over Will’s cheek. “It’s always been yours, beloved,” he whispers.
Will shivers, eyes drifting shut as he reaches up to touch Hannibal’s neck. “Sir…”
Hannibal pulls away, entirely away , stepping backward and holding out his hand. “Bed, yes? I’ve an early morning and Winston is sure to have his hair all over my pillow by now.”
Will manages to cover his sigh as he takes Hannibal’s hand, following him out of the study. As hard as he tries, he can’t help but feeling like maybe, just maybe, he isn’t the submissive that Hannibal wants after all.
He gets very little sleep.
~***~
Reconnaissance work was never Will’s specialty, but how he’s filled his Thursday nights for the last month have been relatively satisfying. He has a plan, and the proper tool for it, now. Hannibal thinks he’s at Beverly’s, but Will will come clean once it’s all in motion. He’s beyond grateful for the conversation he overheard while scouting this particular conversation.
“See that dude over there? With the overgrown beard?” One man had said to his dancing partner. “Stay away from him. He’s a prick. Likes to drug you and drag you back to his place.”
Will’s been watching him ever since. And yes, Derrick Montagne is a disgusting human being. Will is more than anxious to rid the world of him. Now, after snapping a few pictures of his deeds, he’s going to head home and present this to Hannibal. Finally show him exactly how eager he is to share this particular act with Hannibal.
There’s got to be some invisible wall that Hannibal is having trouble climbing. He’s been the Chesapeake Ripper for years and a Dominant for longer but suddenly, he’s wanting to be a settled, middle-aged, run-of-the-mill psychiatrist? No. It’s confusing and infuriating, so Will is just going to be as forward as possible.
They’re sitting by the fire, enjoying whiskey after dinner when Will pulls out the envelope.
“What’s this?” Hannibal asks, head tilting.
Will slides out the pictures, ignoring his pounding heart and the sweat on his palms.
“His name is Derrick Montagne. He enjoys going to bars, slipping a pill into a man’s drink, and then taking advantage of him in every way possible.”
A beat of silence before Hannibal gives a slow nod. “I see.”
“He’s also been known to enjoy underage boys.”
“A vile creature,” Hannibal remarks coolly, no longer looking at the picture but into the fire.
Will searches his profile, feeling desperate and all but willing a sign of interest from the man before him. Anything to let him know that Hannibal feels the same. Another thirty seconds of silence and Will feels his heart sink.
Hannibal finally speaks, quiet and reserved. “He’s definitely something to keep in mind once we’ve settled.”
Will clenches his jaw, looking away. “How much more settled do we need to be, Hannibal?”
There’s a slight twitch under Hannibal’s eye at the use of his name from Will’s mouth, but it’s not as though he can call it out. Not when he’s the one adamantly refusing to do anything about it.
“I only meant more time to-”
“To what?” Will exclaims, standing from the chaise and walking away. “It’s been months, do you realize that? Do you realize you haven’t dominated me in fucking months? I’ve got this collar- I’m sorry, this temporary collar around my neck and it means nothing.” Hannibal is looking at him worriedly now but after letting it simmer for so long, Will can’t bring himself to stop. “You know, last week, I spent an hour just looking at your implements and wondering why they haven’t been used. I want them so much and you…” Will sighs, feeling drained already. He braces himself and refuses to look away. “Am I- do you not want me like you thought you did? I know I’m not… I mean, I have a fucking mirror, I’m not stupid but I just- I thought-”
Before Will can complete the thought, Hannibal is standing and gripping his face in his hands, trembling. “Will, my beloved, no, no. Never. You’re perfect, you must know that. I could never find you anything less than perfect, please-”
“Then what is it?” Will asks, refusing the tears that are stinging at his eyes. “What did I do wrong, Sir?”
“Nothing, darling, you’ve done nothing wrong. I want you just as much now as the first time I met you,” Hannibal says, kissing his way across Will’s flushed face. “I simply want to be the man you need.”
“You are ,” Will swears.
Hannibal pulls him close, murmuring against his cheek. “The man you deserve, then. Someone worthy of your adoration and loyalty. You need someone that can-”
“What I need is a fucking Dominant, Hannibal. That’s what I need.”
When Hannibal doesn’t speak, simply rests his head on top of Will’s, all Will can do is swallow and back away. He looks at Hannibal’s face, at the obvious concern and sadness etched across his brow, the downward turn of his lips, and he walks out of the room. Up the stairs and to the armoire next to the bed, where the key to his collar rests.
With steady hands and strong resolve, he removes the collar and places it on the nightstand next to the bed. He can’t be without Hannibal anymore than he can be without air, so he supposes he simply isn’t a submissive any longer.
He’s too tired to feel his heart break. He sleeps in the guest bedroom.
~***~
The collar isn’t mentioned, and it’s another two days before Will starts sleeping in the bed with Hannibal again.
They find a piece of land and begin building their home. They pick out curtains and dishes and Will never calls Hannibal ‘Sir’ anymore. That’s never mentioned either. They stay at Hannibal’s and go back and forth to their new home, transitioning and settling on finer details. The dogs love the space. Will loves the two-story, open floor plan. Hannibal loves the large kitchen. They fuck almost every night.
Will teaches his classes and Hannibal sees his patients. Jack doesn’t call as much as he used to, and that’s okay. Will doesn’t miss it.
They eat dinners and go to the opera on occasion, and never, ever mention the elephant in the guest room, or the uselessly stocked basement.
~***~
It’s been three months and Will still isn’t used to the light fixtures in their new home. Or maybe it’s his nerves that are making him forgetful.
His stomach is in knots as he grabs the bottle of Rothschild. Drinking this alone should warrant a terrible sort of punishment, nevermind… everything else. As if on cue, he hears the front door open and a very confused, “Adam?”
Swallowing hard and steeling himself, he walks back into the kitchen, finding two sets of eyes on him; one set blue, and one set very hard maroon.
“Adam, who’s this?” Derrick Montagne asks, looking directly at Will.
Will gives an easy smile and a pointed look at Hannibal. “Oh, this is Nigel. My roommate.”