A/N: Heyyy. So, I've recently been watching Hannibal. So have some kinda friendy mainly platonic-ish Willibal. Prompt 35: Sixth sense
Maybe friendship can help
His head ached and throbbed with intense pain, the stag stalking closer. Its antlers gleamed, huge doe eyes watching him slowly. He couldn't understand why such a beautiful creature terrified him, chilling his blood but yet he was too hot. Too hot. Sweating, panting for air as his throat seemed to close up. He couldn't breathe. The stag was too close but he couldn't run. Stuck. Stuck. Stuck. Like the way someone stuck someone with a knife. Then there was a hot, viscous liquid dripping down his chest and when he looked down, the stag's antlers were protruding from his chest, covered in blood. His blood. The breath hitched in his throat as his vision began to cloud over and darken.
Will Graham woke up with a start.
It took Will a few moments to breathe normally again, running a hand through his sweat-drenched hair. He needed to go see someone. He needed to talk, to drink coffee and to convince himself he wasn't insane, wasn't going insane and was stable. Or as stable as is necessary.
Hannibal Lecter seemed to always know when Will needed him. It was like he had a sixth sense about the other man. So, naturally, when Will knocked on his psychiatrist's door, Hannibal opened it instantly, dressed in loose-fitting trousers and a dressing gown.
"Will. I had a feeling you would come to see me." The doctor stepped back to let his friend into his house.
"You did?" Will laughed weakly, following Hannibal into his kitchen as he put the kettle on.
"Yes." Hannibal offered him a smile, getting two mugs and pouring coffee powder into them, watching Will cautiously. "Another nightmare?"
Will looked down, nodding. He felt sort of ashamed that Hannibal already knew but he wasn't quite sure why. The man was his friend and his psychologist. It was his job to help. And he tried; Will knew that he tried. Jolting him out of his mental conversation, Hannibal passed the other man a mug of steaming coffee.
"Do you want to discuss it?" It takes Will a few moments to respond, nodding.
"It was the stag again. And I couldn't run. I couldn't move. And then I could feel blood, dripping down my chest… I looked down and it had gored me…" he trailed off and Hannibal looked mildly concerned.
"Will, you do know that this is not real?" The man in question nodded firmly.
"Yes, but… sometimes it feels so real." He trembled a little and then was thoroughly shocked as the psychiatrist wrapped him up in a warm hug.
"Will Graham. This is real. I am real. I will not fail you. I will help you." Will relaxed slowly into Hannibal's embrace, sighing softly.
"Thank you. Thank you."