With the boys dropped off with the sitter the next morning, Hannibal and Will went off on an easy stroll through town and the shops. The breeze off the canal always gave Will pause to appreciate the way it filled his lungs a bit more than being stuck more mainland did. Hannibal always allowed Will the silent moments of closed eyed bliss, happy to see the way that Will seemed to be slowly but surely relaxing more into himself as the months continued to pass by.
Will's eyes opened once more, and he couldn't stop the bright smile over his lips despite the fact that he knew this wasn't just a simple outing. "No children," he announced as they began once more through the morning shopping crowd. "No work. No school. What ever shall we do with our stolen time?"
"Defiant creature." Hannibal grinned with a shake of his head, letting his hand be snatched up by Will and his body drug past the small markets and further towards the center of Venice.
Piazza San Marco was a dazzling sight. There were plenty of cafes and plenty of people. Hundreds of tables and even hundreds more chairs. Sometimes vendors would set up stalls and sell wares and goods among the trickling tiered fountain. Tourists took pictures happily while older women fed pigeons. The Basilica stood tall and proud with its four golden horses and some winged lions looked nearly ready to jump to life to eat up the group of nuns that stood beneath it chatting happily. During the day the cobblestones belonged to the tourists and the pigeons, but at night it belonged to the horses and lions.
Will knew exactly why Hannibal had picked this particular spot. Everyone came to St. Mark's square at least once a day. It was a perfect place to people watch without looking out of place. A perfect place to sit and wait for a particular event to occur. One just needed to be patient and have a very sharp pair of eyes. Not to mention that there were only two bridges across the Grand Canal and that made it all the easier to trap someone just in place.
Will was gently guided into a pasticceria where the two of them were greeted with a lively, "Buongiorno." Will looked happily through the pastries while Hannibal went about buying a small box of cakes. Will was always amazed by the great care the bakers of Venice took over wrapping their cakes. They didn't just hand them over in plastic bags or foil prepackaged wrappers. Instead, they were always packed in a beautiful box and tied up with a ribbon.
Once a café was decided upon and Will took a seat in a cold, metal chair the ribbon was pulled, and the box opened so that Will could look inside to find two cream covered cakes with fresh fruit. A waiter came and Hannibal ordered them some espresso. Will sat back in his chair, taking a rather large bite of his cake that had Hannibal frowning, but Will didn't mind so much.
The espressos came and Hannibal stirred some sugar into the tiny cup, eyes far more trained out on the crowds than on his motions. A large crowd of people big enough to fill a vaporetto started to swarm into the square. He eyed them patiently, one by one. A couple of schoolchildren, an old man, three women with stuffed shopping bags, a group of nuns. But the two faces he was looking for were not among them.
"They could just live near us?" Will offered around another mouthful of cake, calling Hannibal's eyes to gaze at him incredulously over the rim of his sunglasses. It wasn't often that Will got to see Hannibal in such a relaxed state of dress, even at home, but he enjoyed it when it occurred. The softness of unstyled hair that had finally grown out longer again. A loose and flowing white button up that wasn't starched or ironed, and pants that Will dared to call khakis, but Hannibal would go down fighting that they were anything but. "They could just be neighbors."
"You don't believe that," Hannibal pointed out softly, leaning over to kiss some missed cream away from Will's mouth, causing the younger man's cheeks to pinken slightly. He licked the sweetness from his lips before chasing it away with the bitterness of the espresso. "You know as well as I do that they followed us from Germany."
Will sighed and his shoulders slumped in quick defeat. "I know," he muttered, setting the last bit of his cake aside. "They would have had something in place if the others didn't come back, etcetera, blah, blah, blah." Hannibal had to hide his smile at the pout Will gave. "I would just like a single day where I didn't feel like I was looking over my shoulder, you know?"
Hannibal pursed his lips and shook his head. "Unfortunately, I don't, Will."
"Bullshit," Will laughed, turning his eyes to a group of Japanese tourists excitedly taking pictures of an angelic little boy with golden blond hair as if they had never seen such a thing before. Hannibal didn't seem too entirely interested in the photography and had returned his focus to the span of people by the lion fountain. "You thought you had everyone fooled. Everyone was dancing along to the tune of your fiddle. Don't even pretend that you-"
"I was not careless or stupid," Hannibal cut in, voice just as even as ever. "Just because I could comfortably hide myself didn't mean that I wasn't constantly looking over my shoulder. I just didn't expect to find you there."
"Stop flirting," Will teased, hand reaching out to take Hannibal's that rested on the tabletop and Hannibal twisted his hand so that he could hold Will's palm in his, thumb caressing the back of Will's hand in a steady rhythm. "I might start to think this is a date."
"It can be both, can't it?"
"A stakeout date?" Will entertained the idea for a moment longer than what was necessary all for the sake of sarcasm that he swore had Hannibal's eyes rolling behind the glasses on the bridge of the killer's nose. "I thought we agreed to keep work and pleasure separate."
"They have begun to blur," Hannibal admitted in a soft tone that Will nearly missed. "I'm not sure where one begins and one ends anymore."
"I'm not fucking you in a graveyard again after doing something jarring with a shovel."
"Hush," Hannibal instructed, sitting a little further up in his chair, hand pulling from Will's unconsciously as he zeroed in on who he was certain were the two men that had been hanging around their home the last few nights. One was a small and stocky man, eating a slice of pizza with some cheese stuck to his walrus-like mustache. The other was taller and on his nose sat a thick pair of glasses with plain lenses that made him look slightly dim-witted and completely harmless. A baseball cap and a big camera hanging in front of his chest. "Near the basilica."
Will's attention shifted to the cathedral, flickering over every face before his gaze finally rested on the same two men that Hannibal had found. Will snorted. "They tried to look like tourists?"
"It's not a bad disguise." Hannibal pulled a few bills from his pocket and tossed them on the table before getting to his feet. "It's been a while since we've been the ones being chased." Will got to his feet too, coffee and cakes being forgotten as the two of them shuffled away from the table. Will knew all too well what they were waiting for. If they were followed then they had a problem. "Shall we be off?"
"I don't see why not."
Will passed around the table and let his waist be taken up by Hannibal as they started a long walk through the crowded square. "Does this remind you of something?" he asked with a happy note to his voice.
"Should it?" Will asked back, leaning into Hannibal so he didn't hit someone passing by.
"Hai dimenticato la nostra prima notte di nozze?" (Have you forgotten our wedding night?)
"No." Will rolled his eyes with a light smile. "It's been two years. I'm ok."
"There was that-"
"It only lasted for a few hours. I promise, I'm fine," Will assured, turning in Hannibal's grip to kiss the man. His hand cupped Hannibal's face and his thumb caressed his impossibly sharp cheekbones. "You said so yourself that I hit the water head first. It's only natural that something got jostled." Will kissed Hannibal once more before turning his attention over Hannibal's shoulder to spot the two men from earlier much closer than before though both looked like they were huddled around the camera to seem busy. Will let out a deep breath. "You were right. We'll meet up at Barbarossa's?"
"Don't do anything rash."
"Rash?" Will's eyes returned to Hannibal's face and he rolled his eyes at a smirk over Hannibal's lips. "Because I'm the one who just-"
"We're in public, Will," Hannibal reminded, taking Will's waist once more and guiding Will back through the crowds and towards the edge of the marketplace. "People don't need to know about our private affairs."
They reached the edge of the square and Will turned his head to press a kiss to Hannibal's cheek, catching the two men even closer. "I love you," Will whispered, being met with a warm smile.
"I love you too. Barbarossa's. If one of us isn't there in ten minutes, head back home."
"Sweden?"
"Sweden," Hannibal confirmed with a single nod.
"Right."
Will stole one more glance over Hannibal's shoulder and the moment he saw one of the men reaching into their jackets for whatever weapon they had brought, Will broke into a sprint in one direction and Hannibal in the other.
"What do you think they're doing?" Morgan asked over the top of the bowl he was stirring some flour, salt, water and honey with a wooden spoon. Walter watched in mild amusement as the sticky dough that was forming began to trap the spoon, making it nearly impossible for him to move it.
"Who knows," Walter grumbled out from where he sat on the other side of the counter carefully peeling oranges to candy them. But Walter knew. There had been men hanging around outside of the house that wouldn't go away. He could see them on nights when he couldn't sleep and would look out of his bedroom window to see the canals. He could put two and two together. Remnants of Germany clung to them and Will and Hannibal were severing them.
"Nonna Pia?" Morgan asked as the older woman who had become their go to babysitter came back to the kitchen island with some other ingredients for their pastry. "Isn't this just a croissant?"
"La sfogliatella è un croissant?" (The sfogliatella is a croissant?) Nonna Pia demanded in a mock teasing tone, though Walter knew there was some truth behind her words. Once all of the items were placed on the counter, she let out a huff, her hands going to her waist as some brown hair dusting with grey hair fell into her face. "La sfogliatella è un croissant?" she repeated, causing Morgan to giggle and return to trying to stir the dough in the bowl. Walter smiled lightly, something nice about teasing in the kitchen instead of a seriousness of trying to make everything perfect. "Prendi lucciole per lanterne!" (Get fireflies for lanterns!) Walter let out a laugh at that. "No, il mio bambino. We are not making sad French pastries in this kitchen."
"It's a stuffed croissant," Walter whispered across the counter to Morgan, making sure that his voice was loud enough for the signora to hear. Walter jumped with another laugh as a newspaper was snatched up from the counter and used to smack him lightly with.
"Cosa dovrei fare con voi due?" (What am I supposed to do with you two?) She gave a loud sigh with a roll of her eyes, though on her pale lips there was a kind smile. "Here I am, trying to be a good nonna and teach you something and you two are so ungrateful."
"We don't have grandparents," Walter laughed out. There was another smack of the newspaper to his head.
"Ingrato. Vado a prendere il mio cucchiaio, amore." (Ungrateful. I'll go get my spoon, love.)
"Oh no," Walter snickered, the words sarcastic. "Not the wooden spoon."
"What do we do now, Nonna Pia?" Morgan called out, pushing the bowl aside with dough that was nowhere near the right consistency and pulling Nonna Pia's attention from Walter to the child.
"We are going to add more flour to that dough and then while it rests, we will make the scorze d'arancia candite," (candied orange peel) Nonna Pia answered sweetly. "As soon as your brother finishes with those arance. Il sole tramonterà presto se non ti sbrighi." (oranges. The sun will be setting soon if you don't hurry.)
"Sì signora," Walter said with some new determination, reaching for the second of five oranges to begin peeling it. "What are we going to do with all the oranges?"
"We're going to make a Sicilian orange cake that my nonna taught me to make when I was una bambina."
"I can't wait for Dad and Father to taste these!" Morgan said in excitement as he reached for the container of flour, pulling it closer to the bowl.
"Yeah." Walter's smile dropped slightly at the thought and he sighed as he reached out for another orange.
Hannibal picked his route carefully. He had spent many hours staring at maps of Venice and many years wandering her maze of lanes and canals that made her so unique. He still didn't know all of the city's nooks and crannies, but then again no one did. He doubted that even a native Venetian would know all the secrets of the city. There were so many hiding places, and so many narrow alleys with names no one could remember. Some of them had no names at all. Boarded-up churches, deserted houses. The whole city was one huge invitation to play hide and-seek.
The alleys he stepped through became narrower and he tried not to smile at the thought that the walrus man had followed after him and possibly would get caught between the buildings that he could move through easily. It was quiet as he entered the hidden heart of the city where there were hardly any strangers.
Cats darted away as their footsteps rang out on the paving stones. Pigeons cooed from the rooftops. The ever present water swayed beneath the city, splashing against boats and wooden posts, reflecting back the old faces of the houses.
As Hannibal wandered deeper and deeper into the maze with the larger man huffing and puffing loudly behind him, the houses seemed to be moving in on them, watching them as if they knew who they were.
The faint memory of a Parisian night came to the forefront of Hannibal's mind where he chased a man down similar mazes and carved his sister's name into a man. He wouldn't do that here, but he was certain that whatever happened would be just as staining to his hands.
He turned a sharp corner that was a dead end just as he knew it would be and stopped. He turned back around, listening for the man barreling after him. It took longer than Hannibal thought it would and he found himself being grateful for the workout routine that he and Will had been taking part in with the children because he didn't even need to catch his breath like the portly man did as he finally came into view, sputtering and gasping for air.
"Sie arbeiten für den Mann, den ich tot gelassen habe, nicht wahr?" (You work for the man I left dead, don't you?) Hannibal asked, stepping closer to the man who had bent over his knees in an attempt to stabilize himself from the run.
The man glanced up with a huff and nodded, slowly straightening himself. "We are here to settle the issues. Your children for him."
Hannibal felt a deep frown pull at his lips and he stepped closer, towering over the man who took a step back at the sudden approach. "You honestly think I would let you touch my children?"
"Die alte Dame ist nicht so erschreckend." (The old lady is not so frightening.)
"It's not the old lady that I would be worrying about," Hannibal informed with a huff of impatient air. "My children are more than capable of holding their own. What doesn't fall in your favor is the fact that I already know that only two of you were sent."
There was a hint of surprise on the man's face at the realization that Hannibal had known all along. That he was the hunted and the prey, when the entire time he had thought it was the other way around.
"I will also be making sure that no others will be coming after us as well," Hannibal continued, seeing the man's face pale as further comprehension came to him.
"Wie?" (How?)
"I'm afraid that that's not something you need to be worried about. My telling you will not change your fate." Hannibal glanced down at his watch. His ten minutes were nearly up. He couldn't keep playing with his food. With an easy and fluid motion Hannibal reached out and took the man's head, twisting it at a sickening angle, leaving the body to drop to the ground with a dull thud that reminded him all too well of being called cheese folk.
The shop that was their agreed upon meeting place wasn't too far away from the Basilica San Marco. Will had stepped into the shop, the bell above the door ringing loudly in the cramped space. From the outside it didn't look any different from the other junk shops in Venice, cheap trinkets for those stupid enough to let themselves get sucked into them.
Glass shelves held vases and candles, mini gondolas and jewelry. China plates and old books were crammed together. Each one was marked up a ridiculous amount and would never tempt Will, but several tourists were busy looking through the items whispering solemnly among themselves as if they were in church.
Will tried to make himself look busy, but as he reached up for a statue on one of the shelves, he gasped, his other hand taking his wrist that was turning a deep purple color from having been grabbed and twisted at an odd angle. It was swollen, but Will doubted it was broken. It hurt enough though.
It had earned the man who now lay dead in some far off alley way an extra kick. But the scene was clean. Just a snapped neck like agreed upon. Nothing too devastating. Now if only Hannibal would show up, Will's chest could unclench and then they could go home. Then at the end of the week Hannibal would be leaving for a few days and then Germany would be behind them completely. Everything would be taken care of and over and then they could focus on the now. Focus on the boys and themselves and have a few moments of clarity to finally breathe.
The bell on the door rang as it opened, the glass tinkling oddly as if it were the sound of fairy's wings. Will's eyes jumped up immediately and he frowned at the young couple that stepped in. His chest collapsed a bit further and he pulled his watch from his pocket to look at it, the bruising hurting too much for him to keep the item on his body any longer.
Time was up. But he could wait a moment longer, couldn't he? Would Hannibal have just gone straight home or had the man become just as lost and attached as Will that even if the ten minutes were up that he would risk it to come and find Will? Because Will knew he would risk it to find Hannibal. Their planning was always meant well, but if it truly came down to it, then Will wasn't sure it would be followed.
With a deep breath, he shoved his watch back into his pocket. If Hannibal were following their plan, the scolding Will would receive would be just as bad if not worse than finding Hannibal hurt. As much as it pained Will, he had to do what they had agreed to. Ten minutes and Hannibal wasn't here. It was time to go home, pack the necessities, pick up the boys and head to their safe house in Sweden. Hannibal would meet them there if he had gotten caught up.
But that wasn't what had happened right? Will moved for the exit with a shake of his head. There was no way that that man could have laid a single finger to Hannibal. He was a sitting duck the moment he picked Hannibal as his chase over Will. It was a curious decision that Will supposed he would never receive an answer to, but the universe could keep that secret. It wasn't that important to know.
Will stepped back out into the morning sun that was beginning to pick up in heat, summer bearing down in full throttle. Despite the heat, Will's blood ran cold at the idea that maybe Hannibal had been hurt. Hannibal was punctual even with the flimsiest commitment. He wouldn't miss the ten-minute deadline without a reason.
Or maybe Will was thinking of the worse far too quickly. Maybe Hannibal had gotten carried away and spilt blood even though they had both said not to. Maybe he had to sneak home to not be seen. That could have very easily been the reason. Maybe Will was just overreacting. Maybe...
"Ethan," a voice called and Will's heart perked up, eyes darting around the ground in front of him to find the person who had called his name. When he finally found Hannibal among the market's swarm, Will let out a breath that had been captured up in his lungs. He broke into a sprint towards Hannibal whose hair had fallen into his eyes from whatever struggle he might have come from.
Hannibal snatched Will up in a hug and Will's heart beat wildly in his chest, as if excited to find the other man's still alive and beating behind another rib cage. The two breathed a sigh of relief at the presence of the other, though it was short lived as Hannibal pulled back far too quickly for Will's liking.
"We should get moving," Hannibal whispered, though his smile was warm when he regarded Will. "We don't want to draw more attention." He took Will's hand and Will did his best to hide his gasp at a sharp shoot of pain up his arm. Hannibal paused and looked down, taking in the deep bruising over Will's wrist, the smile falling instantly. "Is he-"
"Taken care of, I promise," Will assured, free hand pressing to Hannibal's chest to push the man in the direction of home. "There's nothing for you to avenge. I'm ok. Let's go. You can take care of me at home." Hannibal's eyes were dark, but he nodded, turning without another word and leading them both through the market square. "I thought something happened to you," Will whispered, keeping himself close to his husband as if Hannibal would somehow disappear if Will released him. "You're never late."
"Minor inconvenience," Hannibal muttered without looking down. "I'm sorry I worried you. It was not my intention. Thank you for following our agreement."
Will opened his mouth to speak, but swiftly shut it after he thought better of his admitting that he wasn't going to follow the plan. That he had thought about following the route he felt Hannibal would have taken to find his husband. That nothing, even their own stupid little rules, would ever separate them again, but he held it back.
The trip back home was made in silence, something a bit more tense than Will thought it would be and as much as he tried to feel out Hannibal, nothing came to him. The man was as blank as he wanted to be and that might as well have been the first page in a new notebook. There was nothing written there for Will to read and if he wanted something, he would have to write it himself.
They stepped into their house and Hannibal closed the door behind them. Will was simply going to make his way to the bathroom where the first aid kit was, but his uninjured arm was snatched up and he was pulled back around and to a pair of lips.
Will's eyes were wide at the kiss that Hannibal gave him. Something deep and overpowering much like the wines they had been drinking as of late. Will found himself melting against Hannibal's body, something relaxing inside of him, something that had been wound up and tight since Germany and Will hadn't noticed.
"Ti meriti di riposare. Lascia che mi prenda cura di te, amore mio," (You deserve to rest. Let me take care of you, my love) Hannibal whispered, nuzzling his nose against Will's. "Let me take care of you."
"In what aspect?" Will tried to tease, but it came out more breathless than he meant it to. His fingers trembled as they found the buttons on Hannibal's shirt and began to tug at them. Will moaned at another kiss, knees going weak and mind swirling.
"Medical." Hannibal pulled back and Will whined softly, causing Hannibal to smile. He reached up and carefully took Will's wrists to stop the unbuttoning of his shirt and he placed a kiss to the tip of Will's nose. "Then I will take care of you however you wish, silly boy."
"Ciao," a voice called from somewhere through the house and Morgan looked up from the book that Nonna Pia was reading to him in Italian. Walter paused in his drawing long enough to register the voice before returning to his doodling.
"In here!" Morgan called back, hopping from Nonna Pia's lap and racing for the front of the house.
Nonna Pia inhaled deeply and set the book aside, getting to her feet with a grunt, a sound that Walter assumed came from old age and aching joints. He did his best to ignore the way that when she stepped over, her fingers played with his hair in a very similar way that his mother's would and he had a sinking feeling that maybe all mother's touched their children in the same loving way and his mom had never really been all that special. Maybe he was just clinging to something that didn't truly matter. The thought was bitter in his mouth.
"I tuoi genitori sono qui. Non vuoi andare a salutare?" she asked in a kind voice. Walter shook his head and did his best to give Nonna Pia a smile to assure her that nothing was wrong, when he knew exactly what his parents had been doing. Exactly what his own hands had done only a few weeks ago and the thought alone made his hands tremble. There was a small gasp that made Walter jump slightly and he met Nonna Pia's gaze who was not looking at him. "Grant, è bellissimo."
He looked back down at the stupid little doodle he had been doing that he honestly didn't think was that amazing. It was just a rough sketch of The Girl With The Pearl Earring. It wasn't impressive, but Nonna Pia snatched it from him to look over it.
"-and we made Scampi In Busara for dinner!" Morgan's small voice continued to drone on, getting louder the closer the group came from the front of the house.
"Your son is quite the artist," Nonna Pia said, holding out the paper towards Will and Hannibal.
"He's quite good, isn't he?" Hannibal took the paper from Nonna Pia and Walter wanted to shrink down and hide away.
"That's stunning," Will said with a smile. "I didn't know you could draw so well, Grant."
Walter grumbled at the name and rolled his eyes. "Thanks."
"Can we eat now?" Morgan asked impatiently, bouncing on the balls of his feet.
"Sì, ragazzo mio," Nonna Pia assured with a laugh. "They have been busy baking all day. I'm sure they're excited to show you."
"Sounds delightful to not have to cook for once," Will teased, though Walter knew full well that Will never had to cook unless he wanted to, which wasn't often.
"Ezra, would you please get the table set?" Nonna Pia questioned and Morgan nodded his head, racing off to get to work. "Grant, anche tu. Avanti."
"Ok," Walter muttered, getting from where he was curled up on the couch with a book on his lap as a table. He set it aside and took the drawing that Hannibal held out to him. Walter was slow to take it, looking over both men carefully, doing his best not to shift the delicate air in the room, but unable to help himself at the sight of Will's bandaged wrist. So they had done something. Those men wouldn't be outside tonight if Walter had any guess. He started towards the small dining table and held out the paper to Morgan who tipped his head curiously, setting a stack of plates down on the table top. "Here."
"I can have it?" the young boy asked.
"I don't want it."
Morgan's face lit up a bit more somehow. "Grazie!"
Walter rolled his eyes. "Not you too. Please let me have one normal thing in my life. Please only speak English."
"Oh, ok," Morgan muttered with a determined nod. "Did you want to do the cups?"
"Sure."
"Smells wonderful," Hannibal applauded as he stepped into the room. "I can't wait to see what you made, boys."
"Wait until the cake!" Morgan reached out for the plates to get back to work. "Grant worked really hard on it."