Author's Note:

Pairing: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter

Warnings: Warnings applied to individual chapters.

Note: This story will be drabbles and one-shots set before, during and after "Pushing Us Into Self-Destruction". Prompts are welcome and will hopefully be written in a timely fashion.

Disclaimer: Hannibal belongs to Bryan Fuller and NBC. The original characters are the property of Thomas Harris. I own nothing but the plot and make no money from this story.

One

Summary: Will and Hannibal remember their wedding.

Warnings: References to violence and cannibalism

'Barney,' Will drawled as the orderly cleaned up outside his and Hannibal's cells. A psychiatrist had come to see them, had even booked an appointment before making the trip. He'd wanted to talk to Hannibal and had ignored Will completely. Hannibal hadn't liked that. Will had to give the psychiatrist points; he lasted all of ten minutes before vomiting and fleeing from Hannibal.

'Yes, Mr Graham?' Barney asked in that slow, even drawl of his. He was a nice man, Will and Hannibal agreed on that. He never antagonised Will or Hannibal, he never treated them as less than human just because they were labelled psychopaths. He didn't forget, which was what Will liked about him the most; there was always a hint of fear shining in his dark eyes.

'Has Hannibal stopped pouting?' Will asked.

'I am not pouting, Will,' Hannibal growled from his cell. 'Please stop telling Barney and the other orderlies that I am.'

Will smirked. 'Do the other orderlies know that Hannibal's pouting, Barney?'

Barney hesitated, mop poised over the tiles. It wasn't his job, this general clean up; he dealt with Hannibal and Will directly; they were the only prisoners he dealt with. He helped clean their cells, transport them, give them meals and presents when they were good.

But it was late, Barney had said. He was covering for Gordon, a new orderly who wasn't dealing with Hannibal and Will as well as the other nurses. Gordon was weak, Will thought. Hannibal wanted to eat his liver. Gordon didn't drink.

'No, Mr Graham,' Barney finally said, 'Michael and August are downstairs, and Devon is watching the lower floors.'

'Who else, Barney?' Hannibal asked.

'Alexander, James, Nathan and Colin, Dr Lecter,' Barney said.

'Colin,' Hannibal mused. 'Colin, Colin, Colin...'

'Curly black hair,' Will reminded him. 'Short, olive skin, dark eyes.'

'Ah, the one who twitches when you smile at him,' Hannibal said.

Will chuckled and rolled onto his front. He let one arm drop over the side of the bunk. It was low to the floor, so Will was able to brush his fingertips across the smooth concrete floor. He propped his chin on his other forearm. Hannibal was roaming his cell, having no purpose or direction. Just watching Will, watching Barney, glancing at the sketches he'd taped to his walls, at the lures Will had crafted just for him.

There was one by the floor of Hannibal's bed; he always kept it close. Soft plastic bent into the shape of a lure, the tail made of soft green, blue and purple feathers. It reminded Will of one of Hannibal's old suits; paisley and plaid somehow working on the foreign doctor's tall form.

'What are you doing, Hannibal?' Will asked. His husband paused. 'Besides pouting, of course.'

Hannibal's eyes darkened, narrowed, as they found Will's across the abyss of their cells and the hallway. 'Sometimes I find myself imagining cutting out your tongue,' Hannibal said.

Will grinned sharply. 'But then I couldn't shout your name when you fuck me.'

Barney almost dropped the mop- tripped over the bucket, just a bit. He composed himself quickly, used to Will and Hannibal after taking care of them for over four years. They didn't usually air their sex life, but sometimes Will couldn't help himself.

Sometimes, Hannibal punished him for it when they were in that little room again. Will smiled at the thought.

'You are having naughty thoughts, William,' Hannibal said.

'Are you going to punish me?' Will giggled.

Hannibal's smirk turned into a soft smile. 'At first,' he revealed, 'but after?' He just shook his head and looked away. Will had to bury his face in his pillow, cheeks feeling far too warm. Even after everything Hannibal had put him through- everything Will himself had done afterwards- the older man still had the ability to make Will flush and feel young, carefree... loved. Hannibal's love was all-consuming, had tried to consume Will before Will pushed back. Now they lived side-by-side, feeding off of each other, balancing each other yet goading one another along.

Will wasn't sure how it worked. It shouldn't. They were damaged, broken, deranged and so very, very bloody. They reeked of it, it clung to their skin, had stained their souls.

But Will wouldn't give it up for the world. He would tear the world down just to protect it.

'Mr Graham?' Barney questioned.

'Yes, Barney?' Will said, words muffled somewhat by the cheap fabric covering his pillow.

'If you don't mind me asking,' Barney said, 'where did you and Dr Lecter get married?'

Will heard Hannibal go silent in his cell, still; no more footsteps, no more rustle of clothing as Hannibal straightened a picture or picked up a book. He didn't say anything, though, so Will spoke;

'I honestly can't remember what state we were in. Two before we were caught.'

Hannibal hummed; he didn't remember, either.

'It wasn't important, where we were,' Will continued. He and Hannibal had never spoken of this; not to the agents who had hauled them in, not to Jack or Zeller or Price. Not to anyone who ever asked. Their marriage licence had been signed, dated, and filed away. It was legal, binding. Jack must know by now, exactly where Will and Hannibal had tied the knot. Will didn't care enough to ask.

At the time, he had just cared that Molly had already divorced him.

'It wasn't about where we were,' Will said.

'What was important,' Hannibal chimed in, 'was that we were finally together.'

Will smiled. After so many years of trying to break Will, of manipulating Will, Hannibal had finally caught him. Or Will had jumped him, rather. The memories were hazy with pain and drugs and the adrenalin of death. Will had never felt more alive. The only thing that came close was sex with Hannibal.

Tomorrow night, he thought, I get to hold him tomorrow night.

'I couldn't get Will into a suit,' Hannibal sighed, sounding put out, even four years and however many months later.

Will smirked. 'I don't like suits. You know that.'

'Unfortunately for me, I adore you regardless,' Hannibal murmured.

'What did you wear, Mr Graham?' Barney asked.

Oh, right; Barney was still there.

'Black trousers,' Will answered. 'A white shirt. You could see my bandages through it.'

'Bandages?' Barney asked. He sounded confused.

'Our wounds from Francis had healed,' Hannibal revealed, 'however, Will was too reckless with another pig.'

'I was having fun!' Will argued. His head snapped up and he glared at his spouse.

Hannibal tilted his head. 'Your idea of fun is reckless, William.'

'Says the serial killer who stages and eats his victims,' Will retorted.

'Former serial killer who staged and ate his victims,' Hannibal corrected him. 'I haven't killed anyone in four years.'

'Not for lack of trying,' Will said. 'Remember Lounds? Those doctors and journalists who tried to interview us?'

'What about them?' Hannibal asked.

'You told one to hang himself and another to eat his own toes.'

'I merely offered the latter a fantastic spice soup recipe that I was sure he would enjoy,' Hannibal said. His back had gone stiff, fingers linked behind his back.

'A recipe that included toes and fingers and other little bits of people,' Will said. 'He didn't like that part.'

Hannibal shrugged one broad shoulder. 'Everybody has their dislikes.'

Will laughed into his pillow again. Poor Barney was standing still in the hall, mop leaking water onto the tiles. He kept staring between the two, head snapping back and forth. It was a problem everyone who wanted time with one or the other faced; who to talk to, who to turn their back to. Was it safe to only address Lecter, or would he consider someone ignoring his husband rude and torture them from behind the glass?

Will liked watching them freak out.

'I wore a white shirt, black trousers, shiny shoes,' Will said, deciding to get back to their original topic. He was sure that Barney was hungry, wanted to sit and eat, relax just a bit. The man had been at the BSH since six am. Will knew because Barney had delivered his and Hannibal's oatmeal for breakfast.

Barney coughed; cleared his throat. 'And you, Dr Lecter?'

'A simple black suit with a white shirt,' Hannibal said.

'With a paisley tie,' Will added. 'You can take the man out of the paisley...'

'That doesn't make sense, Will,' Hannibal chided.

'English is your seventh language, Hannibal,' Will retorted.

Hannibal raised his eyebrows. 'Eighth,' he corrected.

Will blinked at that. Huh.

'My dear, sweet Will,' Hannibal cooed. He approached the glass, walked towards what Will considered "their corners". It was the spot in their cells furthest away from the stairs, at the very end of the hall, the two pressing themselves between the glass and wall. Will see-sawed between wanting to stand, wanting to get closer, and wanting to stay put because he couldn't be bothered getting up.

He remained lying down.

'You don't know how many languages I speak?' Hannibal asked, sounding thoroughly upset.

Will rolled his eyes. 'I didn't know if English or German was your eighth language. I know them now; I won't forget.'

Hannibal raised his eyebrows again, waiting.

'Lithuanian, Latvian, Russian, French, Japanese,' Will rattled off. 'Italian, German and English.'

Hannibal smiled. 'Good boy,' he praised. Will felt his face flush again. Hannibal smiled at him before cocking his head in Barney's direction. 'We were married at sunset in a little court. The woman was rather annoyed at having to issue a licence to two men.'

Will grinned. 'Hannibal wanted to kill her. But I wanted to have fun on our honeymoon, and not the blood and guts kind of fun.'

Hannibal sighed wistfully. 'I would have strung her to the ceiling with fishing line; hooks in her wrists, ankles, and shoulders. She would have bled onto the wooden floor, soaked it with her life. She would have lived, of course; I like them to understand that they're being punished and elevated just before they die.'

Will lifted his head again. He couldn't remember Hannibal describing what he'd wanted to do to her; at the time, Hannibal had merely grumbled and muttered threats under his breath before whisking Will into the room they were married in.

'Then what?' Will asked, voice soft. Barney had gone completely still, eyes locked on Hannibal.

'I would have cut her,' Hannibal said. 'Gently; shallowly. The bigger cuts would be for you, my love. I would have let you finish her however you wanted, for her disgust was mostly directed at you. She saw me as a confused, rich foreigner looking for a trophy husband.'

Will snorted. 'I would make a terrible trophy husband.'

'I like to imagine dressing you up,' Hannibal said, looking far too amused. 'I would have taken you to the opera; dressed in a slim black suit, curls tamed for the night. A flute of champagne in your hand, a prop rather than a refreshing drink. You would stand in the corner and only creep into the light when I held out my hand.'

'Because I always come when you call,' Will sighed. The picture Hannibal had painted didn't sound too horrible. The fawning would be unbelievably uncomfortable; the people boring, money-grubbing; house-wives and men bored with their careers who flocked to the opera for the social gathering rather than the music. Their annoying, sticky thoughts and feelings would crawl over Will, batter him like tiny, annoying flies that didn't leave no matter how many times you swatted them.

Will would have tolerated it for Hannibal; to see, to feel, the music flow through Hannibal and make him sing. To see the raw emotion that so few things could bring out in Hannibal Lecter. His husband would be... overwhelming, in a theatre. And Will's empathy, his understanding of Hannibal, would allow him to feel all of that as if it was his own.

Will sighed again and dropped his chin onto his forearm. 'A cool night,' he murmured, 'darkening lights, powerful music. Not even the crowds would stop me from enjoying you for the night, Hannibal.'

There was silence for a few minutes; Hannibal and Will enjoying their shared imaginings, Barney glancing between the two.

Finally, Hannibal broke it; 'Barney?'

'Yes, Dr Lecter?' the orderly asked, snapping to attention almost immediately.

'Do you think you could speak to Dr Chen for me?' Hannibal asked.

'About what?' Barney prompted. Will smiled; always ask why, never just agree. You shouldn't agree to what Hannibal asked without knowing as many details as possible. And even then he'd win and screw you over in the process.

'I'm sure that some of my things are still being kept in storage,' Hannibal said. 'Some furniture, some books, some CDs.'

Barney blinked.

'I want the brown wooden box that was once kept in my study,' Hannibal said. 'And I will need a CD player. Ask Dr Chen for me. I will even agree to a test or two if he wishes.'

Barney was silent for a few seconds before he nodded. 'I'll ask when I come in tomorrow for the night shift, Dr Lecter.'

'Thank you, Barney,' Hannibal said. 'If you get my things for me, I'll sign something that you can sell. I understand that signatures from my cell are worth more than signatures from before.'

Barney flushed slightly and Will hid his grin in his pillow. Hannibal had enough money to keep his house, his belongings, indefinitely; he hadn't sold everything when he'd gone on the run and later been incarcerated. But his house had been broken into a number of times, items Hannibal had owned or killed with appearing on the internet. The FBI hadn't found everything before the looters swooped in.

Will was pretty sure that his own house had been robbed before Molly had managed to move out.

'Thank you, Dr Lecter,' Barney finally said. He went back to mopping, then, and in twenty minutes he was done and on his way; clattering down the stairs with his bucket and mop, feet beginning to drag as exhaustion set in. Barney never relaxed around Will and Hannibal. He could, now.

More silence, Will and Hannibal staring at each other, enjoying each other despite being locked in separate cages. Then the lights went out; they usually did at ten pm, but Barney had left them on so that the psychiatrist could meet with Hannibal. It was midnight at least- past that, perhaps. Will couldn't be bothered turning to check his clock.

'You should sleep, Will,' Hannibal said, voice drifting to him in the darkness. 'I will be keeping you up tomorrow night.'

'I can nap tomorrow,' Will mused.

'Sleep, Will,' Hannibal said. It was an order this time, and Will found his limbs obeying. He rolled over and kicked his shoes off, remained atop the covers. The institute was never too cold, never too warm; the perfect temperature to keep the crazy people happy.

Will heard Hannibal moving about in his own cell. The slide of material as Hannibal slipped his shoes off and climbed into bed, the thin covers drawn up to his chest. Will briefly considered taking his jumpsuit off- he usually slept in his boxers and white t-shirt. But he couldn't be bothered. His eyes were already shut, one hand touching the floor, the other curled over his belly.

'G'night, Hann,' Will murmured.

'Goodnight, Will,' Hannibal replied.

Will sank into his head. The stream didn't rush to meet him like it usually did; this time it was one of the nameless hotels he and Hannibal had stayed in. Hannibal was wearing a pressed white shirt and black trousers, shoes tucked neatly by the bed. Will was sprawled across it, aching in his briefs, chest flushed and bandage stark white against his stomach.

Hannibal smiled sharply as he crawled into the bed, and Will grinned.

He didn't have nightmares any more.

Author's Note: I just suddenly wrote this, and it doesn't fit into "Pushing Us Into Self-Destruction", though it's in the same 'verse. So I figured I'd post it as a one-shot. I see it happening before Clarice Starling enters their lives.

I have plans to add more drabbles and one-shots set in this 'verse, and figured it'd be easier to post them all together in one story. So if anyone wants something written in particular, just let me know. I'll see what I can do.

Cheers,

Dreamer