Chapter Text
The breeze on his skin isn’t anything resembling cool, but it feels good, nonetheless. What would undoubtedly feel even better would be heading inside, yet Will makes no move to stand.
“Are you uncomfortable?” Hannibal asks.
Will shakes his head. Hannibal of course knows, already, but still feels compelled to ask. It’s charming, in a way. The clouds that have crept across the sky since they’ve been out here provide a noticeable reprieve from the heat.
“Summer is upon us.”
Hannibal’s fingers rub lightly at his scalp, as careful and gentle as his words. It sounds like a simple observation, no hidden layer of coercion. He’s learned that Hannibal rarely speaks thoughtlessly.
Will sighs, leaning further into him. It’s too hot for it, but they’re pressed close together on his front porch, the dogs safely back inside after their afternoon excursion. Hannibal had wordlessly stepped inside to refill the water bowls, then returned outside to Will.
“You still want to whisk me away?”
There’s no point in beating around the bush. Hannibal’s fingers pause momentarily in their path before resuming their gentle swirling pattern.
“If it is something you still find yourself interested in.”
Will might be a little uneasy about it, but that doesn’t mean he’s uninterested. The problem might be that he’s too interested in it, examining the prospect from all angles under the brightest spotlights in his mind. The potential makes him ache with both anticipation and dread, that much hasn’t changed. Nor has his answer.
He shifts a little, plucks at Hannibal’s shirt sleeve to smooth out the fabric, then settles back against his shoulder.
“I don’t know if I should ask what you have in mind, or if you’re counting on the element of surprise.”
Hannibal chuckles. “I am eager to hear your thoughts, Will. It is not only my own considerations that are relevant.”
As much as he is warmed by the sentiment, Will feels a small flare of something contrary in the pit of his stomach. He values every concession Hannibal is willing to make for him, knows that Hannibal does not even see them as such, and yet it irks him, just a little.
He reaches out, palm spread across Hannibal’s belly. “Surprise me.”
Hannibal hesitates again. It’s unlike him. Will has the feeling he’d been prepared for more resistance, had meticulously explored various threads of imagined conversations in order to sway Will to his line of thinking.
“It doesn’t matter to me where we go. Set it up, and I’ll go with you.”
Hannibal’s fingers curl in his hair, the touch tender but nonetheless grasping. Will still doesn’t know how to wrap his head around being needed in such a way, completely, wholly.
“Two weekends from now,” Hannibal says eventually.
“That’s pretty fast.”
“I pride myself on working efficiently.”
Will snorts. “That you do.” Then, “I’ll get started on things. Talk to Jack.” He fights the little fizzle in his chest, excitement and nervousness balling together. “Get the dogs taken care of, too.”
Hannibal kisses the top of his head, hand falling to squeeze at his nape. “If you require any assistance, I will of course offer it readily. After all, I am the one doing the whisking away.”
“I think you’ll have enough to worry about.”
“Worry is not the word I would choose.” The words are spoken softly into his hair.
The time passes by in a blur. Will manages to get everything sorted on his own, though the shame-laced pleasure caused by Hannibal’s offer remains. He doesn’t need to be taken care of, but the knowledge that someone might want to is enough to warm him. Besides, he’s letting Hannibal plan the trip in its entirety. Will’s leaving himself in his hands, trusting that he will take care of everything. It’s surprisingly easy to do. Will tries to convince himself it isn’t too terrible to indulge in it, just this once.
Jack had been the only real hiccup, though Will had expected that to be the case. The key to winning the argument had been acting as though there simply would not be room for argument, which hadn’t been too difficult. Jack’s biggest concern after the initial disbelief seems to be the lack of notice, but in the end, Will somehow ends up with a hand clasped on his shoulder and a stern, “You could use a vacation, Will. Hell, we all could.” It certainly could have gone worse.
He’d thought Hannibal might push for a month-long excursion; it had come as mostly a relief to learn their trip would be lasting two weeks. It’s far less intimidating than a whole month, but he isn’t able to entirely fool himself; it had only been mostly relief.
They’ve shared so much already, but this will be different. Intimate in a way he’s not allowed himself to experience before. This is living and breathing each other in a new place, learning each other anew.
Endless possibilities are examined and discarded regarding their destination. He stubbornly refuses to ask. He knows Hannibal is waiting for him to, and it only steels his resolve further.
The only guidance he receives is regarding his attire - the weather will apparently also be warm where they’re going. He packs his clothes accordingly.
He’s to meet Hannibal at his home after work, and from there they will head on their way. It had seemed a perfectly sensible plan at the time, but for the entire day, Will’s thoughts drift to the packed bags in the trunk of his car with a singleminded determination. Not unlike a dog with a bone. Will rubs at his eyes, sees the contents of his trunk behind his eyelids once again, and stifles a groan.
It sounds paranoid to think Hannibal had intended for Will to be distracted in this way, but his suspicions are confirmed by the little smile on his face when Will rings at his door that evening. Satisfaction rolls off of him in waves.
“Hello, Will,” he greets, ignoring Will’s frown.
“Next time, we’ll leave in the morning.” Will should be appalled at what he’s just implied, but he’s too irritated to care. The brief surprise on Hannibal’s face is gratifying, even if he can’t fully appreciate it at the moment.
“Of course,” he replies smoothly, stepping aside. “Come in. Just a light dinner, before we go on our way.”
Will’s glad it’s a light dinner. His nerves are creeping up on him again; they have been, as the hours have gone by. He’s sure the simple fare is yet another concession for him, and part of him itches to pick a fight over it. Hannibal’s knowing gaze from across the table is only adding to his ire.
“What?” he snaps, when he can’t stand it anymore.
Hannibal simply eyes him for a moment longer, before casually raising his glass to his lips. Will watches him, waiting. The pressure of the heel of his shoe as he tilts his foot at an angle is a desperate attempt to ground himself.
He refuses to tap his foot beneath the table like he wants to. Hannibal doesn’t say anything at all even after he places his glass back down.
Will waits, stomach laced in knots. Still Hannibal just looks at him. Something inside of him crumbles under the weight.
Will pushes his plate away and sighs, burying his face in his hands. God, he’s ruining it, and they haven’t even started.
The soft clink of Hannibal’s silverware against his plate is like a judge’s gavel, the sound of him rising from his chair the final verdict being read. Will’s not cut out for this, he’d known it all along, and still, he’s gone along with it; worse than that, he’s wanted it.
He says nothing, but Will can feel him draw closer.
When he looks up, Hannibal is beside him. That’s the most baffling part of this whole thing. Hannibal is always beside him. It makes him feel wretched, and awed.
“It will be a three hour drive,” Hannibal begins, voice low. He speaks calmly, factually. “We will have our own place to stay. I have some ideas for things I would like to show you, but I would be happy to spend the two weeks inside with you, if you’d prefer.”
After a moment of hesitation, his hand rests on Will’s shoulder, fingers tightening just briefly. Will can feel his anxiety easing away, despite everything.
“We need not leave at all, Will. Retrieve the dogs, and we can spend the time at your home. Or you may spend it alone, as you see fit. I would have you enjoy this time.”
Will leans toward him with a sigh.
Hannibal doesn’t say anything else, simply stays close. Attempting to be whatever Will needs, perhaps. Will musters up what’s left of his voice.
“I want to go.”
Hannibal opens his mouth, but Will interrupts him. “I want it, you know that I do.” He can’t quite meet Hannibal’s eyes. “I just don’t know what to expect.”
“You do now,” Hannibal replies, squeezing his shoulder. Will glances back upward. “It’s just you and I, Will.”
Will looks at him. Then he stands, and Hannibal pulls him into his arms. He feels abruptly embarrassed. Coddled, childlike. He resists the urge to hide his face in Hannibal’s shoulder.
“Sorry. Jesus.” He grips at the front of Hannibal’s shirt before forcing himself to step back. Hannibal doesn’t quite let him.
“There is nothing to apologize for,” he says. “We may leave whenever you’re ready, and come back whenever you wish.”
Will takes a deep breath, lets the last of his nerves leave him with it. “Now,” he murmurs, pressing his cheek to Hannibal’s. “And we’ll come home in two weeks, just like we planned.”
Hannibal’s sigh is soft, and pleased. “Yes, alright.”
Will’s exhaustion catches up with him during the drive. He falls asleep about a half hour in, lulled by the quiet atmosphere, despite his best efforts to keep his eyelids open. It’s not a deep sleep, but by the time he finally rouses with a few rapid blinks to check the time, he realizes they’re nearly there.
He feels a bit guilty, though Hannibal’s expression is one of utmost content. “I would say we have about another twenty minutes,” he says, attention on the road. “You may rest until then, if you’d like.”
Will shifts, rubbing at the back of his neck. “No, I’m good.” He glances back over. “You could’ve woken me, if you were bored.”
A tiny smile curls at the corner of Hannibal’s mouth. “How could I be bored?” he says simply.
It pulls a smile from his own lips, though he makes a point of shaking his head. Hannibal’s content expression remains after Will places one hand on his knee. He keeps it there for the rest of their journey.
Anticipation flutters in his chest as the car begins to slow. It’s laced in something good, something lovely, and Will lets himself embrace it. He takes in everything he can as they pull to a stop in front of their residence for the next two weeks.
Though the surrounding area is dark, Will can tell the cottage is rather secluded. There are glowing lamps spaced out along the driveway, casting the path and the front of the place in a warm glow. Will is terribly charmed already.
He gets out of the car, stretching his legs before making his way to the back. Hannibal joins him a moment later, but instead of popping the trunk, he places a hand to Will’s back.
“What do you think?” he asks, tone light.
Will looks back to the cottage. Thinks of what it might look like from out here with the lights on inside. Not too far off from his own home, most likely.
“It’s good,” he murmurs.
It’s more than good. Hannibal’s hand stays warm on his back.
“We could have gotten a hotel, if you wanted.” There’s no point in saying it now, but Will does so anyway.
“I much prefer to have my own space,” Hannibal replies. “I would have chosen the same, if I were traveling alone.”
“Is that so?” Will tilts his head to look at him. His expression gives nothing away. “Exactly the same?” He can’t help prodding, a little.
“Perhaps not exactly,” Hannibal allows. His eyes rake over Will’s face, considering. Will contemplates pulling away before Hannibal can say whatever it is he’s about to, not that it would deter him in the least.
“Does it upset you, that I place value in your comfort? That it may hold a spot right alongside my own?”
Will closes his eyes, breath coming short. He squeezes his fingers around Hannibal’s wrist, not hard enough to hurt, but to chide. “Not now, Doctor.”
“If not now, then when?” Hannibal presses.
Will doesn’t answer. Warm fingers tilt his chin closer. Will relents with a sigh, meeting Hannibal’s gaze.
“We are here together. Just the two of us, Will.”
The statement turns over in his stomach, the truth of it bringing him both pleasure and anxiety. How often has his mind tantalized him with the idea of the world fading away around them, leaving nothing but each other?
“I know,” he breathes. He brings his hand to Hannibal’s face, leaning in. Just a simple press of lips, but he lingers close. “I know.”
Hannibal shifts, kisses him more fully. Will’s hand slides into his hair, tilting his head to deepen it. Hannibal does nothing to discourage him, fingers still at his chin. His thumb strokes gently at Will’s skin, just like the sweep of his lips.
“I like it,” Will murmurs. It feels necessary to say.
Hannibal’s response is barely more than a sigh, lost in the space between their mouths. Slow, deep kisses follow, enough so that Will’s fingers are curling in his hair. He’s not sure how he’s found himself here, but he’s thankful for it.
Will’s struck suddenly by a sense of unreality; it’s not just what he has with Hannibal, but the fact that they’re on what can only be classified as a romantic getaway, making out before they even get their bags out of the car. The thought makes his lips tip into a smile, but he can’t quite pull away from Hannibal to share it.
When Hannibal attempts to tug at him, Will’s hip collides with the car. They both pause, gazes locked.
Will smiles, huffing out a laugh. “You’d think we could make it inside, first.”
Hannibal regards him fondly. “Were you planning for more of this during our trip?”
Will twists the fingers in his hair, tugging playfully. The way Hannibal’s eyelashes flutter is unfairly appealing. Will makes a show of looking around. “I’m starting to think you did. What else is there to do around here?”
Hannibal’s eyes glitter in the faint light. “If you wish to spend it locked away inside, I’ve already assured you I have no objections.”
Will tries not to shiver. “I’m sure you have some things in mind. Maybe we can make time for them.”
“Maybe,” Hannibal repeats. A small smile lingers on his face as he raises both hands to take Will’s in his hold. Two quick kisses to Will’s fingers before he’s released, leaving him strangely short of breath, and Hannibal’s turning to finally open the trunk. Will manages to get his wits about him in time to make himself useful.
Once they’re inside, bags dropped off just inside the door, he takes a moment to absorb their surroundings. This will be their home, essentially, the first shared space that they are coming into together, with no previous history on either of their parts. The memories they make here will seep into the deepest reaches of Will’s heart, he already knows.
It’s all one floor, and a rather open floor plan at that. Hannibal has drifted toward the kitchen, as though drawn by an unseen force. Will turns to hide his smile.
It’s an odd blend of rustic and modern, some areas clearly renovated while others retain their original charm. Will grabs what he can and wanders off to the bedroom, depositing their bags along one wall.
Despite his efforts, once he’s there, Will’s unable to keep his eyes off of the single bed. It’s more than large enough for two people, pristinely, and more than a little pretentiously, made up. There’s no need for that amount of pillows. They’ll have to find somewhere to store them.
Will lets the thought distract him for another moment, before he reaches out to touch the corner of one of the pillows. His head feels suddenly fuzzy.
He’d already known there would be only one bed, would have found it stranger if Hannibal had opted for two. They’ve slept together in the same bed before, but this feels different, somehow.
Hannibal drifts in silently behind him. When he glances over, Hannibal raises one eyebrow in question.
Will doesn’t have an answer for him. “I’m assuming that’s the bathroom,” he says instead, nodding toward the open door. He walks off without waiting for a response.
When he’s finished, he splashes water on his face. Rolls his shoulders, stretches his arms. Hannibal’s back is to him when he reenters, firmly entrenched in the exciting task of putting his clothes away. Will watches the shift of his shoulders beneath the fabric of his shirt, biting his lip.
He steps closer, reaching out to touch his back. Hannibal stops immediately, tilts his head toward him. “Yes?”
Will sighs, tracing his palm in a slow circle. “We can unpack tomorrow.”
Hannibal’s brow furrows slightly. Most likely formulating a most reasonable rebuttal for why they may as well just do it now. Will smiles, leaning in to kiss his cheek. When he moves to turn away, he’s stopped by Hannibal’s fingers around his wrist.
“I suppose you are correct,” he murmurs. Will’s smile hasn’t faded. “Think about what you’d like for breakfast.”
“Did you get groceries stocked here, or are we going somewhere?”
“Some staples are in the kitchen,” Hannibal confirms. “We will have to go shopping, of course.”
“Grocery shopping on vacation,” Will muses. “Why do people talk this whole thing up, again?”
“I suppose I may handle it myself, if the idea vexes you so.”
“You’re so selfless,” he says, tugging at the hem of Hannibal’s shirt. He’s teasing, but only partly. He has no doubt that Hannibal would let him lounge in bed for the entire two weeks, without complaint. Well, there would certainly be some prodding, but Will thinks he’d give in rather easily.
“We needn’t worry about it just yet.”
Hannibal’s attention shifts to the open drawer. Will shakes his head, mood still light, and strips his pants off, flopping on the bed in t-shirt and boxers. He watches Hannibal silently until he turns to Will with a quirked brow, his own sleep clothes in hand.
Will pats the bed. He feels silly, light-hearted. Overjoyed to be here. It's like it’s pouring out of him, unable to be properly contained. He doesn’t care to even try.
Hannibal’s soft smile seems to reflect the very same, as he moves to join him.