Hannibal awoke that night to the sound of music playing downstairs. He recognised his composition immediately and stiffened, but instantaneously relaxed upon noticing the absence of his partner in the king-size bed. The thought of getting up at such an early hour (the clock said 3:23) repulsed him, but he had found that lying in bed alone had recently become a disagreeable experience, so with a sigh, he climbed out of bed and padded downstairs in search of his better half. He stopped at the doorway to admire her: sitting at his harpsichord in his dressing gown and boxers, playing with one hand, and turning the page to his manuscript pad with the other.
'Anna?' he said softly. She jumped, and the music fell out of key momentarily as she looked towards the doorway with a startled expression on her face. Collecting herself, she gave him a sheepish grin and stopped playing to run her hands through her hair.
'I couldn't sleep' she said by way of apology. Hannibal smiled, and instead of replying, crossed the threshold into the living room and moved behind her, placing his hands gently on her shoulders.
'Do you like my most recent piece?' he asked.
'I like everything you do' Anna replied immediately, before stopping mid-sentence as she grimaced at her oversight.
There was a moment of silence during which the pair both thought about the one topic they never discuss, broken by a kiss to the top of Anna's head and the faint squeaking of the chair as Hannibal sat down next to her. She smiled at him shyly, and he extended a hand to cup her face.
Scrutinising her expression he asked quietly 'could you not sleep or was it a nightmare?'.
Her downcast eyes confirmed the latter. Hannibal sighed and moved his hand to stroke the nape of her neck, pulling her into a gentle kiss. He felt her begin to relax as she leaned into him, her hand pressed delicately against his bare chest. In response, he moved his free hand to cover hers, interweaving their fingers tightly. She smiled against his lips, then pulled back to look at his face. As usual, it was the picture of forced neutrality, and if she didn't know him so well, she would assume this was the case, as many other people did. But she could read him like a book. He was trying to gauge how she was feeling, she knew. This happened whenever anything to do with his 'lifestyle' was brought up. For someone who seemed so secure, it constantly surprised her how afraid he was that she would change her mind about him.
Anna was his weakness, and while she knew that, it didn't guarantee her anything should she choose to leave. Not that she wanted to.
'Anna?' he broke her train of thought. She looked up, having realised she'd been staring vacantly at his chest for god knows how long, 'Are you thinking or busy enjoying yourself?'. He smiled faintly at his own joke, and her heart ached at the sound of his voice. In response, she beamed and unexpectedly kissed him, wrapping her arms around his neck and shifting onto his lap to close the gap between them. He responded without hesitation, his hands finding their way around her waist to pull their bodies tightly together. When they eventually broke apart, Hannibal lowered his head, kissing her neck, while she giggled into his tousled hair. It was only when he moved his kisses down towards her chest that she pushed him back, smiling.
'We need to get back to bed, H,' she chided gently, placing her fingers to his mouth, 'you have a long day today.'
Ignoring her, the kisses continued from the tips of her fingers to the insides of her wrists, his lips never leaving her skin. She turned his face towards her with her index finger, and leant towards him slowly, eyes flashing in both amusement and arousal. Gently, she kissed his jawline, then his mouth, biting his lower lip, and paused before stating 'Bed.'.
Hannibal's face dropped visibly and his partner smiled in triumph and proceeded to stand up and walk away towards the stairs, leaving Hannibal sat alone before his harpsichord, raking his hands through his hair in frustration.
She would drive him mad.