Hello! Thank you so much to hannibalcreative on tumblr for hosting all these wonderful fests and everyone for creating such fantastic works. This is my humble contribution, just a small bit of fluff, and I hope you enjoy it. It had been a long time since I've written fanfiction, and I thank you all for getting me into it again. The Hannibal fandom is a wonderful place.

A pleasant warmth was beginning to settle in Will's veins, thought the slight buzz in his head wasn't yet enough to drown out recurring images of that day's crime scene, the psyche of the newest serial killer of the week that had attached itself in Will's mind. It wasn't even enough for the FBI consultant to forget the small and quite limited bar he currently resided below the inexpensive hotel outside Boston, the time soon to near midnight. It had been a long day.

He was sure the forensics team had gone off the a booth to get drunk and discuss God knows what together while Jack had gone to his room, but his psychiatrist still stayed with him at the bar, nursing a glass of some cheap wine. Will was now honestly grateful for his company even if he'd insisted Hannibal didn't need to come with him here, the urging of Jack and Hannibal's easy acceptance difficult to fight. He observed the doctor's posture, still rigid and dressed in his suit—currently a dark maroon—when he must have been hot, looking as if he belonged anywhere but where they currently resided. Will suddenly wondered what Hannibal would look like without his usual inhibitions, which might have been two glasses of whiskey Will had already downed speaking.

"Have you ever drank liquor, Doctor Lecter?"

The alcohol continued to speak, apparently.

Hannibal, having not have spoken much in the silence that had enveloped between them, looked over at Will and blinked, apparently in thought. "… One time or another," he replied evenly after a moment.

"Mhm…" Will nodded a bit skeptically, and suddenly turned to wave over the bartender, motioning for two shots of bourbon.

He wordlessly slid one of the glasses towards Hannibal, receiving a slightly raised brow in response, to which Will shrugged and downed his shot in one go.

"It is some time, just as good as any other," Will simply responded with a slight shrug, looking to Hannibal expectantly until the man took the other shot glass and threw it back, setting the glass back on the counter gently, and even if he likely found the drink's taste inadequate, he showed nothing. Will wondered how well he would deal with multiple shots.

"… Who am I not to indulge you?" Hannibal said then, and Will might have imagined the slight challenge gleaming in his psychiatrist's eyes, as warm and inviting as Will's preferred whiskey.

Will felt the corners of his lips upturn slightly and he gestured for more shots.

An hour later and Will had completely forgotten about bloodstained corpses, his gaze instead focused on his doctor—his friend, who'd soon assured Will, after several (give or take) more shots, that he could do the same number as Will could.

Will gave a light chuckle that felt warm in his bones. He could already feel the loosening in Hannibal's shoulders as if they were his own, the man's jacket already discarded and lying in the barstool next to them.

"I did not know you were competitive," Will replied. "But I'm not one to back down from such a challenge."

"… Dante's poetry was much more engaging…"

Will wasn't aware of how much time had passed after that, but they had eventually gotten a booth of their own, Will sliding in after Hannibal, and experimenting with the limited supply of liquor available, at this rate, all tasting the same, the burning sensation soothing to his addled brain.

More importantly, at this juncture, the vest had left Hannibal as well, his tie loosened around his neck, leaving Will to wonder if they continued, how many more layers he would earn being peeled away.

They had talked about everything and anything that they could, work, hobbies, boats and literature. Here, pointed at Will in the small space, the rest of the team having vacant aged long ago, Hannibal's smiles seemed fuller, genuine crinkles around the edges of his eyes, and an occasional flash of teeth if Will (or Hannibal himself) said something particularly stupid that he apparently found amusing.

"I'm glad that you came, Hannibal..." The name settled warm and smooth like velvet on Will's heavy tongue, and he wished to say it more often.

Will could almost taste Hannibal's tongue as it flicked out between his lips with how close he was leaning into him, their thighs pressed together on the booth. His palm found Hannibal's thigh then as if to further his statement, warm underneath the soft fabric of the doctor's pants, earning a soft exhale from Hannibal's direction.

"As am I, Will…. your company is..."

Hannibal did not finish his verbal sentiment as he instead leaned into Will and their teeth clanked together awkwardly as soon as Will had enthusiastically come forward to meet him.

"Sorry—" Will barely had breath to murmur before they were kissing again, deep but messy, eager tongues attempting to meet through parted lips as Will felt the other man's hand wildly grasp at the fabric of his shirt tightly at his shoulder, bringing him closer and sparking something in Will.

Hannibal tasted and smelled of alcohol, but he heated Will to the core beyond how the intoxication had, and he suddenly wanted so much more.

In the cramped space, Will was practically crawling onto the man, pushing forward until Hannibal's head was up against the wall. His hands reached out to touch through the fine fabric of Hannibal's shirt, feeling everywhere from his stomach up to his pectorals, mapping out soft and firm curves. He wasn't sure whether the moans that vibrated through him were his, or Hannibal's, or a mix of both.

"Will…"

Will could barley breathe or think past their fumbling mouths and warm bodies enough to register the breath of his name, feeling Hannibal's hands groping around his back, rumpling his shirt.

"Will…"

He felt warm skin as he'd finally untucked the front of Hannibal's shirt. All he felt was heat and Hannibal.

"Will." He felt rather than heard the moan of his name against his lips. "I have—" A hitch of breath as Will's fingers explored higher. "—room. A room…"

"Yes," Will agreed far too quickly, sitting up straight suddenly and nearly banging his head against the back of the booth seat, the rest of his willpower used up in releasing Hannibal, only because of the prospect of hotel room.

There were still a few shots left and Will took them both quickly, watching distantly as Hannibal did the same, tossing them back as if he'd been doing it all his life.

Will climbed awkwardly out of the seat, and it was clear that Hannibal hadn't been doing that all his life.

"Shit, Hann—" Will gripped Hannibal's shirt as tightly as he could to keep him up as that barely succeeded, the man stumbling out of the booth and nearly planting his face in Will's lap, and not in a pleasant way.

The weight of the larger man falling against him nearly toppled Will over, and he struggled to get a proper grip to keep them both up. "Hannibal…"

It was a moment before they stilled, Hannibal holding onto Will's shoulder and hip. "I'm here…"

"Yeah, let's get you back to your room," Will determined, even with his fuzzy brain addled with conflicting emotion and desire.

Will fumbled to grab Hannibal's discarded clothes, trying to allow the other man to lean on him as he started to walk.

"Will—"

"Lean against me," Will interrupted.

Hannibal was quick to comply, leaning heavily and touching in a distracting manner, and it seemed a miracle that Will got over to the counter and shoved some cash on the table, Hannibal luckily not able to argue at the moment.

To get his doctor up the elevator and to the room seemed a longer trek than sailing across the Atlantic would be, Hannibal's steps unsteady and his own wavering, though he had to stay steady enough to hold them up.

He held Hannibal in from of him, leaning against the door of the room on the third floor as Will struggled to shift through Hannibal's jacket pocket for a card key. "Where the hell…?" he groaned, finding another empty pocket in his determined haze.

When he moved to pat down Hannibal's pants pockets, the man nearly purred in approval, leaning towards him again, hands trying to grope at Will's pants, warm eyes shining as they looked to Will with deep affection. It seemed almost painfully honest, and Will felt like he shouldn't see it.

"You're so beautiful… Will…." He murmured thickly.

Will shook his head, trying to bat wandering hands away and stop Hannibal from undoing his belt, which had little success anyway. "You're so out of it…"

He went for the right pocket then, finding a wallet there and extracting it as a last hope. Making out the contents and thinking deeply enough to recognize them made Will's head ache, but he eventually got the card out, shoving Hannibal's wallet back in his pants inelegantly.

On the forth swipe Will succeeded, getting Hannibal's hotel room open and urging him inside, growing his clothing around the floor.. He got the man to sit on the edge of the bed there, finally released from his weight.

"You're not gonna drink that much… again… Hannibal!" Will exclaimed in a higher note as the doctor's hands groped and squished at the flesh of Will's ass.

"… Have me, Will… want… you—"

"Stop, Hannibal, please," Will pleaded, not needing to hear anymore of those slurred words, pushing his hands away.

"Will…?" His slight frown tugged at Will's scattered emotion. "Won't you stay? You don't want…? Don't—don't go…"

"I didn't say…" Will struggled, "You should drink some water… or something," Will started tiredly, but Hannibal held onto his arm again.

"Will…"

Will was tired and the alcohol buzzed and ached in his brain, both of them at least in this room safely. "Okay," he agreed, his shoulders slumping, and Hannibal was already lying down on his back, his eyes closed. Asleep.

Will sighed and crawled sideways onto the mattress, trying not to imagine the splitting headache they'd both have in the morning, the awkward conversation. Perhaps neither of them would remember anything. It hurt to think enough to try and process anything so Will finally gave up.

"'Night, Hannibal…" Will closed his eyes as his face pressed into the cheap hotel sheets.