When Hannibal hooks his finger around Will's, Will nearly turns his head to look at him, to find his eyes in the dark, but he quickly thinks better of it, outwardly maintaining his facade of exhausted detachment. But he does bend his own finger in kind, linking them together, and the contact causes an overwhelming feeling of relief to bleed up Will's arm into his chest.
Up until tonight physical contact between the two of them was sparse and intentional, initiated by Hannibal strategically. But now, ever since Hannibal offered Will his hand to help him out of his chair at Hannibal's dinner table, it's become an undeniable craving. Worse is knowing they can't have it in any meaningful way for more than half a day, that even careful brushes and incidental contact has to be kept to an absolute minimum to lower their profile.
Here, in the back of this taxi, they're doing the closest thing they can to holding hands. Handholding is such a tender, loving gesture, and Will has never before thought of Hannibal as either of those things. But it feels so close to natural in this moment, clinging to each other, desperate for every last second of touch they can get from each other.
Will barely manages to fight off a sigh when Hannibal finally has to release him, but he does turn his head toward Hannibal when he speaks to the driver, getting to see his full profile for the first time since they got int the taxi. They pull up to the gate and Hannibal pays their fare while Will gets out and retrieves their bags from the trunk.
Hannibal's in his stride now, and Will follows him to the ticket counter. They have to wait in line just behind another couple, a man and a woman in their early fifties with a European air about them. He imagines they're going home to Europe, and he realizes that Hannibal is as well. Just for the moment he allows himself to revel in the fact that Hannibal's taking Will, his American lover, to see his home.
Then he reminds himself of his alias name, of Hannibal's, practices saying it inside his head, rehearses the indifference he has to maintain until they've boarded the plane, remembering that Giacomo is his colleague, one he doesn't even know particularly well. When the desk agent calls them up, he makes sure he stands a step farther away from Hannibal than he normally would, he puts on the well worn act of being socially anxious, tipping his head so the rims of his glasses cut across his eyes when he looks at the person on the other side of the desk as he allows Hannibal to conduct the transaction needed to purchase their plane tickets.
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Date: 2016-02-19 06:28 am (UTC)Up until tonight physical contact between the two of them was sparse and intentional, initiated by Hannibal strategically. But now, ever since Hannibal offered Will his hand to help him out of his chair at Hannibal's dinner table, it's become an undeniable craving. Worse is knowing they can't have it in any meaningful way for more than half a day, that even careful brushes and incidental contact has to be kept to an absolute minimum to lower their profile.
Here, in the back of this taxi, they're doing the closest thing they can to holding hands. Handholding is such a tender, loving gesture, and Will has never before thought of Hannibal as either of those things. But it feels so close to natural in this moment, clinging to each other, desperate for every last second of touch they can get from each other.
Will barely manages to fight off a sigh when Hannibal finally has to release him, but he does turn his head toward Hannibal when he speaks to the driver, getting to see his full profile for the first time since they got int the taxi. They pull up to the gate and Hannibal pays their fare while Will gets out and retrieves their bags from the trunk.
Hannibal's in his stride now, and Will follows him to the ticket counter. They have to wait in line just behind another couple, a man and a woman in their early fifties with a European air about them. He imagines they're going home to Europe, and he realizes that Hannibal is as well. Just for the moment he allows himself to revel in the fact that Hannibal's taking Will, his American lover, to see his home.
Then he reminds himself of his alias name, of Hannibal's, practices saying it inside his head, rehearses the indifference he has to maintain until they've boarded the plane, remembering that Giacomo is his colleague, one he doesn't even know particularly well. When the desk agent calls them up, he makes sure he stands a step farther away from Hannibal than he normally would, he puts on the well worn act of being socially anxious, tipping his head so the rims of his glasses cut across his eyes when he looks at the person on the other side of the desk as he allows Hannibal to conduct the transaction needed to purchase their plane tickets.