A/N: Thought I would post this chapter kind of early since it's a bit short. There will most likely be another one out late tonight.
Disclaimer: I do not own the NBC TV series Hannibal or any of its characters.
The next few days were rough for Hannibal.
He did not see Will at all. Apparently the man had decided to call in sick, rather than for his colleagues to see the marks on his neck. Jack did not ask many questions, either, given Will's recent mental state. He no doubt just assumed that the man was taking a much needed vacation at home.
However, it was not just the absence of Will from work that bothered Hannibal. The psychiatrist had not seen Will at his appointments, which made it obvious that Will was avoiding him. Even if Will was staying home to dodge being asked about the hickeys, he would still come to his appointments to keep Jack off his back.
Not coming to his sessions was an obvious effort to try to either give both of them time to forget about the events of the other night (something that was not going to happen), or an effort to let Hannibal know that he was not interested.
Neither of which were acceptable, in Hannibal's eyes. Some much needed quality time was necessary.
Stalking was not new to Hannibal, obviously. He knew to keep a proper distance, to duck into alleys and side streets when the stalkee tensed up or looked like they were about to turn around. He knew that appearing harmless was everything, and that other people around easily determined what was stalking behavior. So Hannibal kept his hands in his pockets, tried to appear as aloof as possible, as if just another man going on about his errands.
Hannibal knew Will's schedule well enough that today was grocery day. He had at first intended to "accidentally" bump into Will at the supermarket, but then his skills in sneaking and his lack of recent activity in the killing field led him to take up the chase. Will stopped at a coffee shop before heading into the grocery store, giving Hannibal a rather contemptible idea that he could not shake off.
Hannibal waited until Will step his cup down, in the seat of his cart at the store, to examine the produce. With swiftness and nonchalance, Hannibal passed by like just another customer, and switched his own cup out for Will's. It was not a difficult thing to do, given how preoccupied Will had been lately with his thoughts.
The psychiatrist bought a few things, but not many because he wanted to be able to run them outside before Will started to leave the store. Hannibal watched from his own car as Will chucked his now empty coffee cup out upon leaving the entrance, without any groceries, clearly starting to feel too ill to manage any. Hannibal slid out of his own front seat, darting over to where Will's car was parked to wait for him.
Outside, Will started to slow down. Quite a bit, actually. He could hardly walk in a straight line, and often stopped to lean against cars in the parking lot for support. The people walking by eyed him with curiosity, concern or distaste, but all must have figured he was just drunk because none stopped to actually help him.
Finally, Will slumped against his own car, his knees went weak, and Hannibal was there in the shadows to catch him under the arms and drag him into the space between two vehicles, crouching down over Will to make them virtually unnoticeable in the nearly full parking lot.
Hannibal was able to get incredibly close to Will, and the session they had had the other day clawed its way to the front of Hannibal's memory. He was able to smell Will, deep, tantalizing whiffs of his musky scent, and felt the body heat radiating off of him.
A person stopped, asked if Will was okay, but Hannibal simply replied that the man had just been drinking too much, the whiskey was strong on his breath, and he would make sure Will got home okay. The woman offered to help, but Hannibal told her not to bother herself- he would be just fine. The woman pressed on, uncertainly, but clearly urgent to get home.
Hannibal looked down at the heavily dosed man, sleeping soundly half-sprawled across the his lap. He took a moment to thread his fingers through thick dark curls, to drink in every inch of the man's perfect, softly-featured face. He took off Will's glasses, tucked them safely away in his own shirt pocket, and enjoyed the dark curve of thick lashes against cheeks splashed a lovely pink from exertion in his last conscious moments.
Clearing his throat, Hannibal laid Will's head gently down on the asphalt and then stood up to peer back out of their spot to make sure no one else was between them and Hannibal's car, parked right across the lane. Then he delicately lifted Will up, slung the smaller man over his shoulder, and then stepped back out onto the street.
He hurried towards his car, knowing that jostling Will too much would not wake him up- after all, the sedative Hannibal had sneaked into his coffee was quite strong.