A/N: For the the prompt "sharing a bed" by electric-couple on tumblr. This is my first attempt at writing bedannibal, so I hope I managed to do the characters justice. Feedback is always appreciated!


The first time they share a bed, they don't sleep.

His hour comes and goes as Bedelia unravels the thread of his person suit, widening the tears in the once pristine fabric. She peeks through the cracks, delves deeper than Hannibal usually allows her to go, and perhaps she considers it some kind of poetic justice when he throws her on the bed at the end of his hour, with enough wine in their system to justify their behavior to themselves and one another, and delves far deeper inside her than she has ever allowed him to go.

When she dismisses him, pulling her mask of cold politeness back on to hide how deeply he touched her, Bedelia feels well-fucked and absolutely certain that it will never happen again.

"I'll see you next week, Hannibal," she says with her usual haughtiness, and when next week comes, his person suit is mended and her armor is secured. They banter easily, each one prodding and offering just enough to keep the interest alive in the other. It's a courtship in its own right, a dance they never miss a step of, but Bedelia traced the line in the sand again, a boundary that even he knows not to cross. They toe the line, Hannibal makes his advances subtly enough, with invitations to his extravagant dinner parties that she's always careful to refuse. Even when he drops by her house unexpectedly to offer one of his delicacies, the line is still there at the end of the night, slightly faded but otherwise intact.

They never speak of that day again, not until they reach their hotel in Paris.

When the concierge hands him the key to their luxurious room, complete with a king-sized bed, Bedelia wonders if he's trying to keep up the pretense they established - a married couple on their honeymoon; how cliché - or he's just trying to keep her within reach to prevent an escape. If she knew him just a little less, she might wonder if he's trying to force her into an uncomfortable position, but that is not his style.

Hannibal has a penchant for persuasion that leaves no room for the essentially rude nature of mere coercion.

In her mind, she prides herself on being able to resist him, on the moral strength that will keep her from repeating mistakes of the past. He is still her patient; she still has an authority over him that makes their relationship unbalanced and unhealthy. And yet something shifted, something subtle, that she can't quite identify. It bothers her, but by the fourth night in their hotel room, she stops him when he goes to lie down on the narrow sofa.

"Come to bed, Hannibal."

The second time they share a bed, they only sleep.