Will seeks out his Sargent to make sure he has spoken with everyone he needs to and he has signed off on all the paperwork.
"You can complete your report in the morning, son." His Sargent says, clapping him on the back. Will clenches his teeth together. "You did good work tonight. I don't think you will be in that uniform too much longer if you play your cards right." And with that, he is dismissed for the night.
The drive home is a blur. Will tells himself he isn't going to the bar. When he arrives home, walks directly to his bathroom and starts stripping off his clothes, he tells himself he is only taking a shower because he is sweaty and quite certain there is blood on him. He jumps into the shower and turns the water to just below scalding, standing under the hot spray, letting the heat and pressure work some of the knots in his back.
His thoughts keep trailing back to Doctor Lecter. He knew that after today, he would be gone. He was only helping consult with this case. He would be lying if he said he wasn't taken by him. How odd, Will thinks to himself. He doesn't get "taken" by people. With his empathy disorder, he can figure out someone's motives quite easily, but with Hannibal, he seems to genuinely enjoy Will's reactions and responses. He doesn't want to dig into his head for a paper or clinical curiosity. At least not yet. Their brief conversation left Will intrigued. The slightly amused turn up of his lips made Will want to keep talking. Keep reacting. He didn't feel like he needed to dumb himself down or pretend not to notice things in order to stay in the conversation. It also didn't hurt that Doctor Lecter is a beautiful man. No one could deny that fact. He turns the temperature of the water from hot to just the comfortable side of freezing.
He washes his hair and body thoroughly. When he is done in the shower, his wipes the fog from the mirror with a hand towel and runs his fingers through his curls, trying to tame them. Not because he is going anywhere, because he isn't, but because if he doesn't try to tame his hair now, it'll be a mess later. Right.
He pulls on a black pocket tee and dark wash jeans with slightly shaking hands. A drink may do his nerves some good. He will go to Jim's and get one drink and come home. Simple. He runs his hand over his face, wondering if he should shave before shaking his head and reaching for his boots with a sigh. He laces them up and walks towards the door grabbing his keys and wallet from the wooden bowl before turning off the lights and heading out into the night.
A light breeze blows over his face. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, letting the smell of the water soothe his nerves as he walks towards the road. He enjoys Jim's bar because it is within walking distance of his little boat house. On nights he has a few too many, he can always stumble home. It doesn't hurt that it is far enough from the precinct and the main strip that he doesn't run into many people other than the older fishermen that are also his neighbors.
When he reaches the bar, he hesitates before pushing the door open. What if Hannibal isn't there? He knows it shouldn't bother him. He is here for a drink to calm his nerves, or at least that is his excuse to himself, but his shoulders slump slightly at the thought. He could still have a drink or possibly more than one in that scenario. Worse, what if Hannibal is there? What does he want to happen? What does Hannibal want to happen? Should he sit in his normal spot? Should he be presumptuous and sit next to Hannibal without asking? What if he just wanted to know about a place to drink and wasn't asking to meet him in the first place? Get a hold of yourself. Worst case, he will grab a drink or two to unwind before he falls into his bed. Best case, he grabs a drink with the dark and mysterious doctor with the sharp cheekbones and then. What? What did he want? Will takes a deep breath to steady himself and pushes the door open.
The bar is almost empty except for the regulars. His corner at the main bar is empty except for a tall man with broad shoulders and sharp cheekbones. The corner of his mouth twitches. Well that answers that, he thinks to himself, I get to sit in my usual spot and be presumptuous. Will pulls out the stool beside Hannibal and waves to Jim behind the bar. The older man puts down the glass he is washing and reaches for one from the shelf. He places it in front of Will and pours him a few fingers of whiskey. "Heard what you did today, kid. This one's on me," he says as he slides the glass to Will and tips his head.
"Thank you," Will says, cheeks blushing as he looks up at Jim, not quite meeting his eyes. He glances at the television above the bar. Jim has it turned to the local news. The reporter is standing in the parking lot of the abandoned hotel Will left not even two hours ago. When Jim follows Will's eye line to the screen, he turns the station to reruns of an old black and white sitcom. Will dips his head towards the older man in appreciation.
Hannibal's head tilts towards Will, but he doesn't say anything. He brings his own glass to his lips as Will fidgets before getting a hold of himself. What does he have to lose? If he makes a fool out of himself, who cares. He will probably never see this man again. He doesn't even know what he wants any way other than, whatever happens, he doesn't want to regret anything.
Will takes a swig of his whisky, wincing a bit at the familiar burn in his throat, then turns to face Hannibal. "Fancy seeing you here." His blue eyes shine even in the dingy light of the dive bar.
Hannibal grins. His eyes show a flicker of emotion Will can't place before it is gone. "I heard from an excellent source that this is the place to go if you want to shake something off." He turns to look at Will and his smile is wide now, with the slightest glimpse of teeth. Will notices that they aren't quite straight and feels a strange sense of comfort that not everything about the man is perfect. Will returns his smile and feels some of the stiffness in his shoulders relax. "I will say, I thought I was in the wrong place at first. This looks like a house from the outside."
Will chuckles before taking another sip from his drink. "It is a house. Jim has a fully functional kitchen back there and he lives above the garage. He can't technically sell food due to state laws and all that, but if you show up on Monday nights, you may end up with a bowl of gumbo in front of you."
"Interesting. I find myself wishing it were Monday." Hannibal looks up and notices that Jim is on the other end of the bar, purposefully giving the two men privacy. The others in the small dive are sitting by the window looking out at the people milling around outside. While the bar, or rather, house, is small, it is very clean and comfortable. The stools are padded and the lights are dim enough that it feels like dinner time in a restaurant. It is easy to feel as though Hannibal and Will are the only two people there.
"How long are you in New Orleans? Maybe gumbo is in your future after all." Will says as he finishes his drink and waves towards Jim for another but as the man gets closer he tells him not to rush. He knows Hannibal was only brought in for this case, but part of him wouldn't put it past the crafty doctor to manufacture another reason to stay. Part of him, a quiet part that is getting louder, wishes he would.
"Only until the morning. Early flight. It seems my consultation is no longer needed," he cocks an eyebrow at Will, "so I will be heading back to Baltimore. I hope you don't mind me saying so, but I was very impressed by how you laid out the case. Very perceptive. You saw things that others either did not or could not see."
Jim walks over to the men and refills Will's glass and silently asks Hannibal if he needs anything. He nods and Jim brings him another glass of wine from a bottle Will has seen behind the bar since he started frequenting the dive over a year ago. Will tilts his head to the side and moves his gaze from Hannibal's chin to his eyes. "Which one were you?"
Hannibal blinks and tilts his head slightly. "Pardon?"
"Did you not see or could you not see? Or maybe there is a third option," Will says, still looking Hannibal in the eyes. They stay like that for a moment, still besides their breathing until Hannibal's lip twitches and the corner of his eyes crinkle.
"How insightful you are. It is astonishing how much you can see without your glasses." He says the last part with a smirk, turning back to his drink and towards the bar. Will pats the pocket of his shirt to realize that he didn't even bring them with him when he left for the evening.
Will mirrors the doctor's movements and turns back to his whisky, the tension diffusing for a moment. "They aren't prescription, but I know you know that already." He runs a hand through his slightly damp curls. "It can be a lot sometimes. It is easier to block some of it with the glasses. It's distracting, like I said before."
"How so?" Hannibal asks, the fire of curiosity burning in his amber eyes.
Will chuckles. "Are you asking for another demonstration, Doctor? Two shows in one day? The first one was free. The second may cost you." He feels a little looser, though he knows it is not all the whiskey. He felt similarly when they spoke in the parking lot. The darkness around Hannibal is there again, reaching out to Will, wrapping him in the warmth, whispering to him. Hannibal's grin turns into a true smile that lights up his eyes further and he looks positively devilish.
"I will take only what you are willing to give at whatever cost you deem appropriate, but I think you like the performance. At least a little." His posture overall looks impassive, but Will can feel his excitement.
He thinks about it for a moment before he shrugs. "When the audience is right, maybe," Will says as a confirmation. They have been leaning towards each other subconsciously and now share a posture of two men huddled together telling secrets in a dark corner.
"Why don't we make the audience the subject as well. Look at me, Will," Hannibal's accent wraps around his name like a caress, but the statement is a command and Will cannot help but obey. His eyes shoot up to meet the amber eyes of the doctor, the same color as the whiskey occupying the glass in his slightly sweating hand. "Tell me what you see."
Will continues to look into his eyes. The silence stretches between them, and while it is not uncomfortable, it is tense. He clears his throat and rolls his shoulders. "Apart from the obvious things. You are well educated, probably studied abroad as well as here in the states. You have money. I would argue family money, but you know what it is like to go without." Hannibal cocks an eyebrow at that and Will explains. "While your suits are," he pauses for a moment to find the right word before settling on "extravagant. All of your necessities, while expensive, have a practicality to them. Your shoes look handmade but the soles on them have a thick tread. They will last. Even though they are dress shoes, you can wear them for multiple purposes. If they were the only shoe you had, it wouldn't be too much of a hardship. Plus, even though I am sure you have had better wine, you savor each sip from your glass as though it will be your last. Like it will be taken from you." Hannibal nods his head slightly in agreement and encouragement for Will to continue.
"You have a darkness about you, but it doesn't share the characteristics typically tied to the dark. It's not cold. You wear it like a cloak around yourself. It keeps you warm and safe. Maybe even took the place of a person or circumstance that used to make you feel that way." While Hannibal is still technically making eye contact with Will, his eyes have a slightly glassy look to them. He isn't fully at the bar anymore. When Will sees the look clear he continues on. "I do not find it to be unwelcoming. On the contrary, I feel it like it's reaching out to me. As if it conforms around us to create an environment in which I can't seem to quit confessing things to you." Will says the last part with a shake of his head and a grin pulling at his lips, breaking the eye contact and the spell as he finishes the rest of his drink before placing it on the bar a little rougher than he originally meant to, but he continues to grip the empty glass. He isn't this guy. He isn't the type of person to spill to a stranger no matter how charming. No matter how attractive. But something in him looks at Hannibal and sees its kin.
There is a brief moment of silence in which Hannibal only looks at Will appreciatively, like he is studying a piece of art that he is particularly fond of. His features soften slightly as he says, "What a truly cunning boy you are." Hannibal places his empty wine glass back on the bar and his fingers brush Will's sending a jolt of electricity through them both. "You are not afraid of the dark?" he asks, but it is not really a question. It's what drew Hannibal to Will in the first place and if Will is being honest with himself, it's what brought him to the bar.
Will huffs a laugh before saying, "Given time you would find it is plenty dark up here all on its own."
"Hmm. I do wish we had more time. I would enjoy hearing more of your dark confessions." The devilish look in his eye is back and to Will's embarrassment, he feels a flush warm his cheeks.
"Only if you share a few of your own. I feel that there is an unfair exchange in that department." Hannibal tilts his head in question. Will clarifies, speaking in the flowing cadence of the doctor, "at whatever cost you deem appropriate."
"Where to begin," Hannibal says more to himself than to Will. Jim looks over and wordlessly asks if they want another round. Both men shake their head before turning back towards each other. "The other men in your unit underestimate you. They see you as weak and lacking experience." Hannibal pauses before amending his statement. "No. Not weak. Soft. They feel that you are soft, and I think you let them believe this, though you know it is not true."
Will's expression does not change as he tries to mirror the impassive expression the doctor had as he underwent Will's examination. Hannibal takes that as an invitation to continue.
"I think some of that soft persona slipped away tonight. The others thought you were toughening up, but it has always been there. Hasn't it? When you looked down at Luke what did you see? What did you want to do if you had been alone?"
Will takes a shuttering breath. But doesn't say anything for a long moment. When he realizes that Hannibal is content to sit in the silence until he answers, no matter how long it takes, Will takes a steadying breath before saying, "I imagined putting my finger into the wound, pushing the bullet deeper. Pulling away my hand after it was covered in his blood." He shakes his head. "But this isn't supposed to be my confession. It's supposed to be yours, Doctor Lecter."
"I'm getting to it. You are quite impatient," Hannibal says with an indulgent look on his face. "Did it frighten you? When you realized what you would have done had you been alone?"
"I felt like there must be a monster in me," Will says with a far away look in his eye.
Hannibal leans in further until their shoulders are touching and places a hand lightly on Will's knee, gentle as a breath before whispering into his ear, "I would have licked the blood from your hands." He feels the shiver that rolls through Will's body at the closeness and his words and Will turns to look him dead on and the devil is in his eyes once again. "What does that make me?"
Will doesn't know what to say, but his breathing has become ragged and he would feel embarrassed if he could remember how to. Hannibal is patient as he waits for Will's reply, hand still on his leg as he did not move away from the contact. "Maybe you have a monster too. Or you could just be hungry," Will adds the last part as a way to make it a joke. To give the doctor an out if he chooses to take it.
Hannibal chuckles quietly and squeezes Will's knee. "Oh, dear boy, I am positively ravenous." He removes his hand and straightens his posture to give Will room to collect his thoughts before adding, "But that was only one real confession. Here is another." Will looks towards him as he says, "I want to absolutely devour you." He says the words as if they are fact. As if Will asked him for he time and he read it from his watch.
Will feels as though the air in his lungs and the bar has evaporated. He isn't sure what expression shows on his face in the moment, only that it seems to amuse the doctor. Hannibal adjusts his glass on the coaster and turns it so that the edges of the coaster align with the wood grain of the bar before he looks back to Will who still hasn't been able to school his expression into something other than shock. "Have I broken you, dear boy?" Hannibal asks with a curious tilt to his head.
Whether it was the question or the endearment, Will isn't sure, but it is enough for his brain to catch up with his body. He shakes his head to clear it and chuckles. "Nice try, but I'm afraid it takes more than that to break me." Will cannot remember the last time he smiled so much, but the one that makes its way to his face shows teeth and his eyes have narrowed. He looks hungry and curious. He swears he hears a low rumble of a growl coming from Hannibal's chest.
"I would love to find out," Hannibal says and he watches Will's breathing speed up and his pupils dilate. He thinks for a moment and makes a decision. Hannibal leans closer again, their shoulders brushing and his lips close to the shell of his ear as he moves his hand from the bar to place it on Will's thigh this time. Will can feel the heat from his hand through his jeans, as if he is touching his bare skin and he tries, unsuccessfully, to hold back a shiver. Hannibal's warm breath ghosts past his ear as he reaches into his suit jacket pocket and pulls out his wallet. "Shall we finish this conversation somewhere more private?" Will is already on his feet, fumbling for his own wallet. "Allow me," Hannibal says before tossing a few bills on the bar, enough to cover both of their tabs and a generous tip. Will doesn't argue, merely taps his pockets to make sure he has everything he came in with. He waves to Jim and the two men walk out of the bar.