~ CHAPTER VII ~

The light coming in the window from outside was fading but not gone by the time Hannibal arrived at Will's hospital room. Will had been drifting in and out of consciousness, turning the conversation he had had with Beverly over in his mind, but as soon as Hannibal rapped on the door frame, Will was wide awake. His chest tightened in spite of himself. He hadn't realized just how attached he was to Hannibal and the idea of having companionship until he had considered the possibility that whatever they had could disappear.

Now that Hannibal was in front of him, that realization was even stronger.

Hannibal Lecter really was a very handsome man. In the fading light, shadows accentuated the sharp lines of his face: his cheekbones, his jawline, the slope of his nose. The crisp lines were continued with his three-piece suit. The tailoring seemed to strengthen his shoulders, narrow his waist, and increase his height. His eyes were near black until he switched on the light above the head of Will's bed. Then they caught the light and revealed themselves to be dark brown, almost maroon.

Will looked just long enough to take it in, then turned his attention to what Hannibal was carrying. To his surprise, Hannibal held a fancy vase of flowers along with his usual satchel which had Will's dinner.

"What's the occasion?"

Hannibal glanced up and caught Will's eye, the corner of his mouth turned up just enough for his expression to register as amusement. He turned back to the bedside table, set the vase down carefully, and rearranged the flowers for a few moments before saying, "I can't bring flowers to my beloved just because?"

Will let out a huff through his nose, but his heart was suddenly racing. Doctor Lecter is absolutely infatuated with you, Beverly's voice echoed in his head, along with Hannibal's accented voice saying beloved. A strange mixture of hope and anxiety curdled in Will's stomach.

Hannibal didn't seem to notice anything out of the ordinary with Will; his focus was on the flowers, with which he was still fussing. Will was no expert on flowers, but he recognized a few: purple irises, sprigs of lavender, and what looked like pale purple-pink roses. In fact, the bouquet was composed almost entirely of shades of purple, except for a splash of dark bronze-orange chrysanthemums and orange marigolds, and some greenery to fill it out.

Once the flowers were finally arranged to Hannibal's liking — though they didn't look much different than they had initially to Will — Hannibal set about unloading dinner. He placed a tupperware container, thermos, and silverware on the tray table for Will and rolled it over to him. As he settled in the chair by Will's bed, he said,

"Lasagna rolls stuffed with lobster pomodoro, ricotta, and mushrooms."

It smelled divine, garlicky and cheesy and rich, but Will didn't think he would be able to eat it until he got what he was worrying about out of his mind and into the air between them. He fiddled with his silverware, cutting one of the rolls into four pieces, before setting the fork and knife down. Then he focused on Hannibal's right shoulder so that he wouldn't have to look him in the eyes.

"Are…are we dating?"

Hannibal blinked. "Do you want us to be?"

Frustration surged up in Will's chest, and he scowled. "Do you?" he shot back.

Hannibal shifted in his seat, unbuttoning his suit jacket and then folding his hands over his crossed knee. "I am happy with whatever you are comfortable with, Will."

"That doesn't answer the question."

Hannibal blinked again, slower this time. Will watched him out of the corner of his eye; the older man was remarkably still. Then, after what felt like an eternity, Hannibal said, "Yes."

"Me too." The words were out of Will's lips almost immediately, chasing the tail end of Hannibal's yes. Will couldn't remember the last time he had felt so relieved. The feeling was almost eager in its intensity. To hide it, he picked up his fork and knife and shovelled a bite of lobster lasagna into his mouth. It didn't seem to work, however:

"You were worried I would say no," Hannibal observed.

Will gave his lasagna rolls a combination of a scowl and a grimace instead of looking up. "Yeah, well. I'm not exactly soulmate material."

"On the contrary. I find you incredibly fascinating."

"Most psychiatrists do," he muttered, half to himself. When Hannibal didn't respond, Will added grudgingly, "Thanks for dinner, by the way." More silence. He glanced up. Hannibal's jaw was tight, and he wasn't looking at him. Will's stomach dropped. Fuck. Fucking idiot.

After another moment, Hannibal spoke, his words measured but firm. "Your appeal is far more than satisfying someone's professional curiosity of your supposed deficiencies, Will. You aren't broken, and it is rude to deflect by implying that you are, especially in a way that is insulting to those who care about you. If my interest in you was one of shallow psychiatry, we would not be here."

Will glanced at him and then away immediately, feeling guilty, frustrated, conflicted, and unsure of how to express it. "Sorry," he muttered. "I'm not...not used to people sticking around once they grow tired of psychoanalyzing me."

"Will. Look at me." Hannibal's voice was gentler now. Will glanced up and made eye contact with him before he could avoid it. "I wouldn't be here if I didn't want to be."

Warmth pooled in Will's abdomen, and he felt a little out of breath. The two of them were much closer than he remembered them being. When had they gotten so close? If either of them leaned just a little closer, they could…

But Hannibal leaned back, waved at the food, and said, his manner back to usual, "Now eat your dinner, you don't want it to get cold."

Will stabbed a piece of lasagna roll, feeling strangely unsatisfied. This wasn't really where he had been expecting the conversation to go. He knew he was being childish, but he'd wanted something more from it, even as he had expected less. What more would actually look like, though, he hadn't the foggiest idea. He stewed over it as he ate. Only after he'd finished the lasagna did he think he had laid his finger on it: He wanted a goddamn clear answer.

"Are we dating, then?" Will asked again, trying not to sound impatient or annoyed.

"We both said we wanted to, so yes, I would assume so," Hannibal said without even looking at him, fussing with the clasp of the satchel as he put the tupperware away.

"I didn't want to assume. You know what they say about assuming." Hannibal looked at him with a faintly puzzled expression, and Will felt a smile creep across his face despite himself. "Assuming makes an 'ass' out of 'u' and 'me.'" Hannibal's expression changed instantly to one of faint disgust, and Will chuckled. "I take it you haven't heard that one before."

"I haven't, no."

Will shrugged. "It just means it's generally a good idea to ask instead of assuming." Hannibal didn't seem to have response to that, so Will pushed on. "So, are we… boyfriends?" The word felt weird and almost childish on his tongue.

"I prefer 'partner' or 'significant other,' but yes, essentially."

They sat with that for several moments before Will screwed up the courage to ask the real question his mind: "So, where do we go from here?"

Hannibal pursed his lips. "Wherever you want. There's no rush. We have plenty of time."

Will frowned at the hospital sheets over his legs. A part of him wanted to call Hannibal out for deflecting, especially since he'd had the audacity to call Will out on it earlier, but his use of we, combined with the implication that he wasn't going anywhere, (mostly) neutralized Will's annoyance.

"I want to go on dates. Get used to the idea of being soulmates," Will said slowly, and it wasn't until he had said it out loud that he realized just how true it was. He felt stripped bare, as if he had said something as blatant as I want to feel normal. To shake the feeling, he added, "And I want to see my dogs."

Hannibal huffed, but the sound was more amused than exasperated. "You will get both of those things as soon as you are discharged." He reached out and threaded his fingers with Will's. "It should be pretty soon. You're getting stronger every day."

Will moved his hand so that Hannibal could hold it more comfortably. A part of him hoped that Hannibal wouldn't feel his elevated pulse rabbiting under his skin, but the other part of him secretly hoped that he would. As if Hannibal could read his mind, he lifted Will's hand to his lips and pressed his mouth against his skin. He trailed his lips slowly down the back of Will's hand to his wrist, and Will suppressed a shiver.

"I wish you could see yourself how I see you," Hannibal murmured, lips still on Will's skin. "You are the most exquisite man I have ever met."

Will suppressed another shiver. He didn't think he had ever been so turned on by such a small thing as someone kissing his hand before. Trying to keep his voice steady, he said, "I didn't know you were into men."

Hannibal hummed against Will's wrist, and the gesture went straight to Will's groin. "I am attracted more to the individual than any one gender, though I appreciate beauty in all its forms." Hannibal parted his lips slightly, and his teeth grazed Will's skin for just a moment. Will couldn't suppress his shiver this time. Hannibal kissed the place that he had grazed and said, "Your beauty is nothing less than a masterpiece, meant to be savored."

"Mmm," was all that Will could give in response.

Hannibal turned Will's hand over and traced the lines of his palm with his thumb. Tingles rose up in the wake of his touch. "I didn't know you were into men," he echoed.

"I'm the same way," Will said, his eyes fluttering shut. "It's not really about gender. Hardly ever attracted to anyone. It's sporadic."

Hannibal seemed satisfied with that. When he was done tracing Will's palm, he turned his hand back over and kissed each knuckle, breath ghosting over Will's skin. Will struggled to keep his breathing even. Hannibal's touches were so intimate, far more intimate than almost anything Will had ever experienced, even compared to the few times that he'd had sex. He could only imagine how intimate sex with Hannibal must be. Fuck, he was hard already. It wasn't as if he'd had enough energy to masturbate in the hospital, much less the privacy to do so comfortably, and thinking about sex with Hannibal was not helping. Will focused on Hannibal's touches instead, which, while also a turn-on, were at least grounded and real.

Eventually, Hannibal's lips stilled on the back of Will's hand but remained there, nothing more than a soft reminder of touch. He breathed in deeply before pulling his mouth away.

"Exquisite," Hannibal said again, his voice quiet but a little rough around the edges.

They stayed there for a long time. Will kept his eyes closed and memorized the press of their hands together. He was beginning to doze off when Hannibal finally stirred and said quietly, "I need to go home now, mylimasis. I have patients to see in the morning."

"Mmm." Will opened his eyes as Hannibal extracted his hand from his. The sudden cold air on his palm was an oddly empty feeling.

Hannibal must have turned off the light above Will's bed at some point, for the hospital room was dark except for the faint streetlights coming through the half-open blinds. Hannibal was cloaked in shadow where he fussed with the flowers in the vase. His handsomeness took on an odd twist in the dark, almost sinister while still being beautiful. Will didn't know why his first connection was to think of Lucifer, the angel thrown from heaven for challenging God, but it seemed fitting, somehow. Hannibal's eyes were so dark that they were reminiscent of empty, black sockets. It should have been terrifying, but Will felt nothing but a faint thrill of fear and stronger fascination.

Hannibal turned toward him and smiled faintly. "Good night, Will," he murmured, bending down and pressing a soft kiss to Will's forehead after sweeping his curls out of the way.

"Good night," Will whispered.

He lay awake in the dark long after Hannibal left, turning everything over in his head.