a/u: I don't know what this just turned int goodbye i am gone.

When Will comes to, it's a slow, gradual slide into consciousness. It's very different from being jerked harshly awake by nightmares. It's calming. His body is left to adjust to the small things first: the soft light that layers itself over Will's outstretched hand; the breathing of his dog next to him; the sound of someone knocking around in the kitchen; the smell of good, home cooked food. With a sigh Will sat up and actually groaned from the pain that accompanied it.

All the blood feels like it rushes into Will's head, cracking open his cranium. He imagines his skull splitting in two; of his blood rushing down the stairs, flooding his house. No idea where these images came from, but Will tries to stop them before he becomes ill. He concentrates on his breathing and swings his legs out of bed, then focuses on standing upright. At first he has to brace himself against a wall, slowly making his way to and then down the stairs. It feels like it takes ages.

Will is greeted by his dogs, all damp noses and warm breath on his shins. He smiles weakly, giving each one a good pat before making his way into the kitchen. The man in his kitchen has his back turned, but Will assumed he heard him come downstairs and greet the animals. He eases himself into a chair in the corner and watched the older man cook.

"Good morning, my dear Will."

"'morning."

"Sleep well?" he asks.

Will laughs quietly. "I guess so."

"How do you feel?" Dr. Lector turns around, balancing two plates on his graceful arms. He sets them on Will's table and outstretches his arm, inviting Will to sit.

"Just dandy," Will says, hissing a little when he felt his back stain against him standing. He felt Dr. Lector's hand, warm and guiding, against the screaming muscle.

"What do you remember, Will?" Dr. Lector asks carefully, putting food on his fork and motioning for Will to eat.

Will looks at the food on his plate, suddenly nauseous. He swallows hard and rubs his temples. "I remember looking at the case, going back to the academy and teaching, then telling Jack I didn't want to go to a different body… and then I'm just fuzzy." Will looks up. "You were there, I think. You and Alana."

Dr. Lector smiles and Will's confused gaze. "Correct, Will. We were there. It seems that you took a fall down the stairs. You have a minor concussion and some straining of the muscles in your back and shoulders," Dr. Lector said softly.

"I can tell," Will muttered, stirring his food around on the plate and feeling bad that he didn't feel like eating what his doctor had cooked. "Did you bring me home?"

"Yes. We arrived here around eight o'clock."

"You stayed over?"

"Yes. I do hope that's alright. I needed me to make sure you were well."

"Oh, yeah, sure. Anytime. Thanks, by the way."

Dr. Lector smiled. "You don't need to thank me, Will. I'm surprised you don't remember last night after you got home."

Will's head shot up. "What?"

"Oh, nothing, Will. You should eat."

"I'm not hungry." Will rolled his head and sighed, shooting Dr. Lector a look. "What did I say? What did I do?"

Dr. Lector smiled, picked up his plate and then glanced at Will's uneaten food.

"You should eat, Will."

"I don't feel well," he admitted.

"Probably a mix of the concision and the pain medication they gave you," Dr. Lector said, his fingers going to Will's chin.

He puts the plates down and tilts his head up, getting a look at his pupils: dilated. Will leaned into his touch, the same dizziness from the previous day seeping into him again. Dr. Lector moved his hand so that his palm lay on Will's face, and Will was too fuzzy to care about the contact.

"How do you feel, Will?"

"Tired."

"Then sleep," Dr. Lector murmured, and was surprised to feel Will's fingers encircle his wrist.

Will felt Dr. Lector's pulse in his own hand, and opened his eyes; the way the sunlight hit his hair made it look like it was spun from gold. Dr. Lector was close to him, so close that Will could feel his breath on his forehead. He stood up, and Dr, Lector didn't back up: they stood chest to chest. Dr. Lector breathed in the woeful, bittersweet scent that was Will Graham and let his eyes flicker to his patient's lips.

Neither of them was sure which one leaned into each other first; but the feel of his doctor's lips surprised Will. He had always thought they looked thin, almost cruel, but now that they were firmly pressed against his own, he realized how wrong he was. Will pressed against Dr. Lector, pushing him up against the wall; hands in his hand and heart racing.

Will gasped a little and let his finger wipe away a stray drop of blood. "You bit me, Dr. Lector," Will said, voice deep and teasing.

"Call me Hannibal, if you like," he said, almost stumbling over his words as Will bit softly into his neck.

"You got it, Hannibal."