I. by the light of the refrigerator
"Well, babe, maybe this wouldn't be such an issue if you weren't so serious sometimes. Ya ever think'a that?" She stands with the refrigerator door flung wide, head bent forward, rummaging for a little half-past-midnight snack. Her accent always sounds heavier after nightfall, he notices, smiling inwardly at the realization.
They had spent a rare afternoon at the beach together, at Starling's insistence, simply relaxing and taking the occasional dip in the water. That is until Hannibal openly criticized the structural integrity of a nearby child's sandcastle. The child began to snivel, and his mother launched a verbal assault on Hannibal in Spanish so fast Clarice had hardly understood a word. This caused quite a few heads to turn, much to their chagrin, and they decided to leave shortly thereafter. That was several hours ago, and Hannibal had been making mention of it the entire night.
"Really, Clarice, if I weren't so serious?" He drones, unimpressed. "I was doing the child a favor, if anything. Engineering is not in his future."
She turns around and looks at him with narrowed eyes and a half-smile. Lightly mocking at first, "'Your problem is you need to get more fun out of life.' Ringin' any bells?" And then, after a beat, fixes him with a look of admonition. "And anyway, you know you're not supposed to call me that when we're in the 'general living quarters' of the house." She employs air quotes in reference to the kitchen in which they currently stand. "What if Henriette or one of the other staff were to hear you?"
"Then I would say they're probably up past their bedtime. I can call you by whatever name I wish. Dearest. " He answers, deliberately misunderstanding her. "And must you leave the door hanging wide open like that? Don't you know there's a global climate crisis on at the moment?" He gestures toward the open fridge.
"You know what I meant. And I do mean it ." Her hands go to her hips in mild exasperation. "And really, Hannibal, you're gonna lecture me about my altruistic obligation to Mother Earth? To the great globe itself and all which it inherit ? Just how many miles to the gallon does that Jag of yours get?" She says, turning back to her earlier task of examining the contents of the fridge. She moves a couple of jars aside, squints.
His brain hums in delight as he listens to her recite Shakespeare in her southern drawl, a phenomenon of which he is certain he shall never grow weary.
"Ahh, so I'm disallowed from using your given name freely, but you can use mine, is that it?"
"Yeah, yeah. Your fault, you started it."
"Mhm, and I'll have you know I am very environmentally conscious." His tone is droll and the corner of his mouth twitches ever so slightly upward.
Finally, having selected a leftover piece of spanakopita and a can of Diet Coke, Clarice closes the door and turns to face him once again. She sets the plate down on the island between them and takes a fork from the silverware drawer. "Uh-huh. And just how d'you figure?"
"Well, for one, I try to conserve water whenever possible. Haven't you noticed I prefer to shower in tandem rather than separately?"
She rolls her eyes loudly. "Somebody get this guy an award." She unwraps the cellophane from the plate and balls it up. She tosses it at him, hitting him squarely in the chest.
The Doctor narrows his eyes as he watches her. "Are you quite certain a Sauvignon Blanc or a nice Pinot Noir wouldn't pair better with that?"
Ever the gourmand , she thinks. "No, I'm not certain." She slices off a piece with her fork. "But I'm drinkin' this Diet Coke whether you like it or not." She raises her eyebrows dramatically as she takes a bite, washes it down.
"Very well, it is your palate that is suffering, not mine." He raises his hands in mock surrender, his tone one of pseudo-judgment. "I'm not sure why Henriette even bothered to save that; it doesn't reheat worth a damn."
"Ever hear the phrase 'Have a Coke and a smile'?" A cheeky expression upon her visage. "An' who said anything about reheating?" She takes two more bites in quick succession, effectively clearing the small plate.
He grins at her, shaking his head.
"See, you're smiling; the proof's in the puddin'!" She raises the can in his direction. Before she has time to register it, he grabs it from her hand, raises it to his lips, and drinks. He sets the can down with a little more force than necessary, a grimace painting his visage.
"That is awful, Clarice. Really, I don't know how you can drink it. I think I feel it stripping the enamel from my teeth."
"Oh, come on, now, H, it's not that bad." She chuckles at his distress.
"Hardly a glowing review. Are you quite finished?"
"Why, you in a hurry to get somewhere?" She leans a hip against the island and crosses her arms.
"Yes, as a matter of fact." He picks up the cellophane and tosses it back at her. "And so are you."
"Is that right?" Her eyes roam slowly up and down his lithe, deceptively powerful figure. She always had a particular fondness for his toned upper arms, that wiry strength of his.
"Indeed, I had half a mind to take you to bed, my dear." His tone is low and rich, like the beginnings of distant thunder, as he moves around the island. Closer to his Starling, now, hands firmly gripping her tiny waist. "You haven't any prior engagements, have you?" His face is mere centimeters from hers, breath hot and humid against her lips. Her pulse begins to quicken, breathing grows increasingly ragged. "Hmm?"
Quietly, and with considerable difficulty, "I think my schedule just opened up."
At once, he lifts her off her feet and into his arms, one at her back and the other behind her knees. She is now in the selfsame position she was in the first time they entered their Buenos Aires home together—Hannibal had insisted on carrying her over the threshold. He could be so traditional sometimes. "I had hoped you would pencil me in, dearest." He places a chaste kiss on her nose. She smiles at the sweetness of the gesture, letting her eyelids fall closed.
He makes a hasty departure through the kitchen, ascends the grand staircase to their private quarters. When they reach the door to the bedroom, she reaches out and turns the knob, and upon entering, he pulls it shut with his foot.
Down in the now-empty kitchen, all that can be heard is the faint humming of the refrigerator and the distant laughter of a couple determined to get more fun out of life, a couple who would undoubtedly be conserving water later in the night.