" Jealousy "

requested by Avis11, Azalia Fox Knightling, amy, & Guest

William and Genevieve were both the type to become jealous very easily. It was a product of multiple factors, the first being lack of self-confidence.

Will was convinced he was your average run of the mill guy, with a typical face and bad hair. Will thought even less of his physique and there were times when the man found himself wondering why Gen was even so in love in the first place.

Gen, on the other hand, was convinced she was in the below average percentile when it came to looks. She hated her tangled hair and the way she was far too short for any jeans to fit her properly. Gen asked herself why Will loved her far too often.

Both had admitted that jealousy was a strong flaw, though there were times when it was considered a damn fine strength.

In Gen's case, her source of jealousy was Alana Bloom.

Gen had seen the way the beautiful psychiatrist watched Will, with those big eyes and pretty face and perfect fucking hair—

Swallowing her wine, Gen had to remind herself she was at a dinner party and not in an arena. She couldn't fight the woman. Not over Hannibal's finely set dining room table and the pork roast sitting pretty in the middle.

That didn't stop her from stabbing her salad with more menace than before.

And the worst part? Will gave in. Will listened and watched and made eye contact. There was something there, Gen knew, and it broke her heart.

"Your lectures are wonderful, Will," Alana gushed, "You're a good teacher."

"Oh, please," Will mumbled. The dark haired man swallowed quickly, shaking his head am waving his fork, "I barely teach. I talk at them. They take notes. That's how it is."

"And it works."

"Debatable."

Alana laughed at that, a sound that was almost as pretty as she was.

Gen made a face and began contemplating her own laugh. Was it too loud? Too obnoxious?

Maybe she was just being dramatic. Or maybe it was growing jealousy that was knotting itself in her chest when Will laughed at one of her stupid jokes.

I hope you choke on your beer, Alana. What kind of name is Alana, anyways? And—

"So, Genevieve," the sultry voice that spoke out to her was not Alana Bloom's, but belonged to none other than Hannibal Lecter.

In Will's case, his source of jealousy was Hannibal Lecter.

He could never look as good as that man did in a suit, he couldn't cook five star meals and he certainly wasn't as wealthy as his well-to-do psychiatrist. Will knew Hannibal was a far more attractive man.

It was that damn exotic air he held about him.

"Do tell us about your own profession," he paused, chewing. Dark eyes flicked over his girlfriend like a predator surveyed a prey, "Will has mentioned something about it being your dream to open a bookshop."

Will's blue eyes rolled to the woman beside him, dressed in a beautiful gown with her caramel tresses swept up into an intricate braid.

He swallowed, his chest tightening as a smile tugged at her face. She flashed it Hannibal's way, giving a slight laugh.

"A dream, yeah," she offered, nodding slightly, "I just work at the local library for now, though."

Will gave her a small smile. If she did ever leave him, it would be for a good story. He knew that much.

"A library," Hannibal hummed, "I have no met many women who hold books so dear to their hearts as you, Genevieve. Intelligence is something I find extremely attractive. I am sure Will is in the same boat as me."

"Please, call me Gen," she laughed softly, "Only my mom calls me Genevieve."

"And I am certainly not your mother," his smile was flirtatious if anything.

Will scowled when Gen returned the gesture, batting those damn lashes his way.

Hannibal was far too cultured and his home was far too big and his suits fit far too well—

"You're mad."

The tension between the two during the car ride home was unbelievable. It was clear Will was upset.

This jaw was taut and his gaze was fixed forward; knuckles were white as they gripped the steering wheel and he hadn't uttered a word.

The only sound between them was the static crackle of the radio.

"Mad isn't the word I would use."

He didn't even look at her when he replied. Instead, he accelerated down the empty road in a fit of anger.

"Oh, really?"

Silence fell between them again as they pulled up to an intersection.

The light was red, though the roads joining were as empty as the rest of Wolftrap at this ungodly hour in the night.

Without a given warning, Will threw the car into park.

"You were flirting with him."

Gen's face twisted into confusion. "... What?"

"You were flirting with Doctor Lecter," Will scowled, his eyes glued to the red light, "I know what you do when you flirt. You smile like that. You blink and laugh and— He would never love you like I do. He... He would spoil you with expensive things and that is not what love is—"

"William, look at me."

He swallowed thickly and turned, blue eyes meeting her dark ones. Gen reached up, fixing his glasses before sighing heavily.

"Hannibal Lecter is too... exotic, " she mumbled. Will blinked once, exhaling a breath he didn't know he was holding.

"Exotic."

"He's so... refined," Gen offered, "I don't like it. You're perfect. You're smart and handsome and normal."

Will let his hands slide from the steering wheel, drifting down the leather.

"I was just trying to be polite, Will," Gen huffed, "I would never flirt with your own physiatrist."

Will gave a small chuckle. "That would make for an interesting affair."

Gen's frown faltered and she snorted. "It's like something out of one of those bad romance novels."

Will paused when Gen's gaze turned back out the window. "There's something else. Something is upsetting you."

Will's voice was quiet and low; he was testing the waters.

When his hand reached for her own, Gen blinked at the calloused digits. She squeezed softly, rubbing her own hand against his.

"I... It's just— You never laugh at jokes. You don't laugh at my jokes, anyways. You chuckle. You don't laugh."

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"You laughed at her jokes, Will."

"Alana's?"

She made a sour face.

Will sighed heavily. "Genevieve, look at me."

She raised her chocolate eyes slowly, thick lashes blinking tiredly up at him.

"She loves you," Gen scowled, "She flirts with you and you fall for it. 'Oh, Will! You're so great!'"

Her voice rose an octave and she shrieked. "She's stupid! With her hair and brain and beer! A-And what kind of name is Alana? That's a stupid name! It's so... stupid! Just like her and her fucking PhD!"

Will winced as his girlfriend's voice rose sharply.

There was a pregnant silence and Will simply watched Gen look out the window, a heavy scowl set on her freckled face.

"You finished?"

"Yeah. Sorry."

Will sighed. "I love Genevieve Forde. I don't love Alana Bloom."

"I sure hope so."

"Gen," his tone was low, "Please."

The rest of the ride was spent in silence.

They had made their way inside, let the dogs out before changing out of their formal wear. Gen's pumps were tossed into the corner and her gown was hung up back on the closet door. Bare feet padded against the hardwood floor as she made her way to the dresser, searching for a comfortable t-shirt.

When warm hands ghosted across her back, she jumped at the surprising sensation of calloused hands dancing against her spine.

"Jesus, Will," she breathed, "You scared the shit out of me."

"Sorry."

There was a kiss placed against her shoulder. The tickle of his breath ghosted across her bare shoulders and she hummed softly, forgetting her sore feelings for the professor. Will made it incredibly difficult to stay angry, especially the way he rocked her back and forth, whispering things to her.

"I apologize if I made you angry," Will kissed the shell of her ear, "Alana is a friend. Nothing more. Genevieve Forde, however—"

He gave her neck a hot kiss, "She's beautiful and bold and she's the most wonderful woman I have ever met and she doesn't need a PhD to be the most intelligent woman in my life."

Laughing softly, Gen squirmed. "You know, you make it incredibly difficult to stay mad at you."

"Oops."

She laughed again, tugging her shirt over her head. Kissing his cheek quickly, Gen shuffled over to their bed.

"You let the puppies out?"

"They're hardly puppies, Gen," Will muttered, folding his glasses and placing them beside the lamp, "Tracks is almost nine years old."

"Eh, he acts like a puppy."

Nestling beneath the covers, Gen squirmed closer to Will. Her leg drifted over his middle, her arm draped across his chest, her hand clutching his hand. Will snuggled closer, his face pressed into her sweet smelling hair, his hand slowly tracing designs on her back.

He loved being like this. Gen did too. It made her feel safe and it made him feel loved. He knew the nightmares wouldn't come as long as Gen was there to fight them away.

"I'm sorry I get so jealous."

"I'm sorry I get jealous, too."

"I love you?"

"I love you more."

With one final kiss to the top of her head, Will clicked off the lamp.

"Doubt it."

A/N:

SO MANY OF YOU WANTED 'JEALOUSY'. MY GOODNESS. I HOPE THIS SATISFIES YOUR NEEDS. This is one of the longest chapters yet! Next up is we have 'frantic', 'frustrations' and 'nightmares & comfort'. Why don't y'all leave me some more? ;3

Leave one word in a review (for example: "warmth" or "anger") and I'll write a drabble about Will and Gen surrounding it!