"Well…this is awkward."
Will looked down at the evisceration of his stomach cavity, his innards currently becoming intimately familiar with the floor. He glared down at his liver, evaluating its condition. He really had been drinking a lot lately. In his experience, the liver didn't lie.
Losing interest in his organs and not bothering to catch them because it was just easier to leave them there for now and the lesion heal on its own, Will looked up at the man who had done the deed, bloody linoleum cutter still in hand. Wide sanguine eyes stared back at Will and his defiant continuing existence, thin lips parted in surprise at it.
Admiring those strange eyes because it had been at least a century since he had seen someone with maroon, Will had to give credit where credit was due. Even shock was worn well by Hannibal Lecter and with great applaud. The man looked more lost in thought than having just gutted someone in his office. In Will's vast experience, most chose to either faint, scream, or vomit. He was grateful for the doctor's refrain on the third. He hated dealing with pukers. Always a mess and the smell just stuck with him, making him queasy. Given what Hannibal ate though, Will reasoned that he would have to have a cast iron stomach.
"So….um….I've been meaning to tell you something….." Will licked his lips, regrouping himself in the mental sense as he completed the act of emptying his torso of most of its contents. His heart and lungs could stay, but the whole digestive tract was a loss. Once the intestines fell out, it was like nature's slip and slide puzzle from hell. His stomach was stubbornly hanging in there though, literally, so Will plucked the blade from the doctor's numb fingers to work it out, adding the mess to the growing pile.
Having a sense of satisfaction that usually came from spring cleaning one's house, Will tossed the blade on top of his innards, needing and using both hands to press a seam into his flesh. He had been meaning to remove his liver and his kidneys lately. Alcohol abuse did terrible things to the body.
"….I'm not human." Will finished as his body knitted itself back together. Not for the first time, Will wished that his clothing would do the same thing as well. He had liked that sweater, ugly and threadbare as it had been.
"I have gathered." Hannibal said dryly, the words spoken soft but steady. Will smiled over at the man, pleased with his solid nature even in the face of the inconceivable.
"In all fairness, it looks like you've been keeping secrets from me as well, Mr. Ripper." Will nodded to the little table where a sketch of the Wound Man could be found out in the open, drawn and signed by Hannibal with the profile of his latest victim's face.
"I believe I need a drink." Hannibal blinked, which was a revelation to how startled and unsettled he was. Will wanted to applaud his attempts toward normalcy.
"Fair enough. Pour me one too." Will said, looking around for some sort of receptacle for his organs. They were beginning to stink thanks to removal of his lower intestines and gall bladder. He decided on a bin, though the damn thing probably cost more than the entirety of his wardrobe.
"Can you even…" Hannibal began to ask, looking pointedly at the stomach in Will's hand, the one that should still be in Will's gut.
"Just pour the damn drink. By the time, I'm done with this everything will have grown back." Will waved the man off, wincing as the gesture sent bodily fluids flying. He was glad he had forgotten to eat lunch or else it might have gotten really gross.
"Would you like some help?" Hannibal offered, making Will grin at him for his anchor of politeness. How often had that ever happen? Will tried to think but couldn't come up with an instance where someone had offered to collect his organs up for him, especially after being the cause for their absence.
"I think you've done enough already and it's not like this is the first time. With my luck, I doubt it will be the last either." Will chuckled, gathering up what was left of his remains into the bin. There wasn't anything he could do about the blood right now. That and spleen juice never seemed to come out of anything. "Sorry about the rug."
"Do not trouble yourself about it. I have been thinking about replacing it for a while now." Hannibal murmured in that thoughtful way that Will quietly adored, the doctor's mind obviously on other things than interior décor. He handed Will a tumbler filled three fingers high with amber liquid that smelled almost floral and way more expensive than anything Will usually chose to drink. Will was pleased to note that Hannibal's hand was steady with only the barest of tremors to sway the drink.
"Hard liquor this early? Doctor Lecter, I'm shocked. It's not even three o'clock in the afternoon yet. I'm a bad influence on you." Will teased, loving how flustered Hannibal was and doing his damnedest not to show it. The doctor's scotch was drank too fast though to denote total calm on his part.
"Given the unique situation and the current company, I believe it is merited." Hannibal said, his sharp gaze lingering over the remnants of Will's sweater, the blood soaked material hanging off of Will's perfectly whole and normal looking body to drip vibrant life onto his floor.
"So you're the Ripper. That was really careless leaving that drawing out like that." Will nodded toward the little display table. "Are you trying to get caught or are you just that full of yourself?"
"What are you?" Hannibal asked, ignoring Will's prodding questions entirely. Will allowed it since it was a better response than his silence.
"Unique, I believe were your words. I did warn you to choose them wisely." Will mused, setting down his drink so that he could strip off his ruined clothing until he was wearing nothing upon his skin expect for flaking stains of dried blood. He wanted to sit down but didn't want to make a mess of things, his shirt and pants still sodden with wet crimson. Unashamed of his nudity, Will threw his ruined clothing on top of his offal, the garments not worth saving. He was well aware of Hannibal watching him, studying his body, looking for the wound or the source of his secret.
"Are you a god?" Hannibal asked as Will's seated himself in one of comfy leather chairs, grumbling as he got up again to retrieve his drink.
"No." Will sighed, really hating that question but it was better than being asked if he were an angel. Or a demon. He supposed it really depended on who was doing the asking. "Though I've been worshipped as one before. Waste of time really. I don't have anything else going for me beyond the whole 'I can't die' shtick."
"How many times have you been killed?" Hannibal ventured. It was a perfectly reasonable but predictable question. Will had hoped that Hannibal would be a little bit more interesting than that.
"Lost count." Will shrugged. "After a while, it becomes about the 'how' and not about the number. Inventive deaths are more memorable than whether I've died in triple or quadruple digits, though I suspect the later. If you were wondering, being castrated, drawn, and quartered is still in my top ten."
"Have you ever been decapitated?" was a pleasant surprise to hear. Usually at this point, a person would be asking his age or race or origin. Will reasoned that there just might be some hope for Hannibal yet.
"Oh sure. The French made it glamorous but it's been a favored style of execution for since forever. Nothing says finality like lopping off a head." Will said, holding out his empty glass. Ever the good host, Hannibal topped it off, pouring a generous amount in his own glass as well. "It's annoying as hell."
"Annoying?" Hannibal arched brow at him for the blasé dismissal of dismemberment.
"Itches like crazy around the neck and I usually end up having a headache afterward for about a week. Also finding the damn thing. It was worse when people used to put severed heads up on spikes. There is nothing more maddening than watching one's own body flail about just within reach." Will grimaced. One of the nice things about 'civilized' cultures was that they tended to bury all the parts together. It really took the guesswork out of locating the important bits. "You're welcome to try it if you'd like to though I would prefer if you used something other than the linoleum knife."
Hannibal seemed to mull the information and offer over for a bit before continuing. Will let him do so in silence, more content to observe the doctor in his repose. "Why come to me for therapy? Why the farce?"
"Because I really do have problems with insomnia and sleep walking. Talking to you helps." Will told him honestly. "Sleep is the only true reprieve I have left available to me. At least then, I can pretend that I am dead."
"Do you want to die?" Hannibal ventured, making the question sound casual and Will loved the man even more for it.
"You ask the best questions." Will smiled. "No. And I've surprised you now. Why?"
"I believe it is safe to assume that you are ancient. Aren't you…weary?" Hannibal said, obviously choosing his words with care as he openly studied Will back. He didn't seem bothered by Will's casual nudity either but then the immortal reasoned not a lot perturbed a man like Hannibal.
"Yes, down to the marrow of my bones but even one as old as I is scared of dying. It is a fear that is engrained on any cognizant being though I have to admit I have given into the urge to off myself from time to time. Just to see if I could." Will said as he swirled the contents of his glass around to watch the liquor sparkle and dance in its cut crystal container. Will liked that about Hannibal. The man valued pretty, well made things and their presentation. "That and this century, this new millennium, this new age is just so damn convenient. The level of indoor plumbing says it all."
Hannibal looked unimpressed by Will's assessment of an era though, the man looking like he was awaiting some sort of deeper revelation or insight. Will rolled his eyes at him. "You shit in a pot or a hole in the ground for the better part of two thousand years and then tell me that indoor plumbing isn't one the greatest things ever conceived by man. If I never have to get up in the middle of night in the dead of winter to find some facilities again, I'll consider my existence blessed."
"So what now?" Hannibal grimaced, whether from his own question or the previous topic of conversation was left up to guess.
"I don't know. You keep my secret, I'll keep yours?" Will shrugged, having not really given the matter any thought. He hadn't been planning on exposing himself like this but Hannibal had forced his hand from the gradual to the instant. It wasn't like it hadn't ever happened before though and the good doctor seemed to be taking it pretty well, all things considered.
"You are not going to turn me in to Jack?" Hannibal pressed, the man shifting uneasily. Will wondered if he was planning an escape, Hannibal seeming the resourceful type to do so and Will was pretty damn naked at the moment. Not that he cared about modesty but people were more likely going to listen to reason from the well dressed doctor over the naked man covered in blood.
"Why should I bother? You're finite and there will always be someone else to replace you." Will smirked, watching in amusement as a wave of rage made Hannibal a still, cold creature. The man looked so beautifully composed even when wounded. Will wondered what Hannibal looked like when he killed, if he would appear impassioned then. Or if he would deign to share such emotions with someone moving over or in him.
"You should let me fuck you." Will said offhandly, watching as Hannibal's brows rose toward the ceiling, the only sign of his surprise at the sudden remark.
"Why?" Hannibal asked in a detached manner that was more appropriate for inquires about the weather than coitus.
"Or you can fuck me. I really don't have a preference." Will continued. "I've been around a long time, even before the Karma Sutra was in first edition. I think that speaks for itself. I've tried anything and everything you can conceive at least a dozen times before so you can't shock my sensibilities though I may yours. If that isn't enough, I think that we would both enjoy it as well."
Hannibal stared Will down coldly in answer, not moving an inch toward him but not moving away or dismissing the possibility either. "Still not enough for you? You're a hard man to please, Doctor Lecter." Will grinned wolfishly, abandoning his glass and seat to stalk toward the man leaning against his desk.
Draping himself over Hannibal, the doctor statuesque and so utterly still, Will leaning in to touch his forehead to Hannibal's own as he wrapped his arms around broad shoulders and pressed his naked groin to a clothed one. "How about this then? Afterward, you can kill and eat me however you want. I can be your Prometheus every morning and twice on Sundays, feasting on my liver whenever your little cannibal heart desires. Or anything else you're in the mood for."
And there it was. A crack in that icy calm demeanor, a flare of something beyond violent in those bloody eyes, a spark of cruelty that lit Hannibal up from within at the very thought of an unspoken urge being fulfilled so completely.
"I'll even pretend to stay dead for you, at least for a little while." Will whispered, letting the edges of his lips graze against Hannibal's, the sound of their flesh meeting raspy. The offer was enough, Hannibal breaking free of his self control by attacking Will's mouth, driving past it to get at his tongue, sharp teeth sinking deep into the slick muscle there. Will laughed hoarsely, the rough sound of it choked on blood as his tongue was torn from his mouth, Hannibal's fingers digging in like steel points into the back of his neck and shoulder where he was being gripped.
Returning the favor, Will made Hannibal drop his stolen meat to fill the cannibal's mouth with the wine of his life, Hannibal drinking down Will's blood without hesitation, the messy excess of it dripping off of his chin and onto his suit. Holding Hannibal's mouth open the best he could, Will made him feel the return of his tongue, the newly healed muscle wrapping around Hannibal's own to taste him.
"What fun we shall have together….."