Will Graham

Hannibal's grip on Will's hand goes tight as Will nearly falls, and he reaches out with his other hand to steady his friend. Once he's safely in the tub, Hannibal makes room for his lover, spreading his thighs further, leaning his head to the side to welcome Will's head on his shoulder. Once Will is settled, Hannibal wraps one arm around his waist and settles the other hand on Will's head, and sighs in contentment, contemplating how truly happy Will's mere existence makes him. It's all the more remarkable considering the number of times that Hannibal has attempted to end that existence, and that Will has likewise attempted to end Hannibal's. It is truly Providence that neither of them have succeeded, and Hannibal imagines there to be significance to that. The idea that they were somehow made for each other is one that a cynical man might consider overly romantic pablum. Hannibal, however, is not a cynical man. And while he is not a man to bow to a higher power, he can still recognize the hand of Fate. Their lives are woven together now, and while either of them might wield the shears of Atropos, they cannot cut off the life of the other without cutting short their own.

Hannibal turns his head to bury his face into Will's hair, closing his eyes, breathing in deep, drinking up everything about his beloved, his scent, his touch, his warmth, the beat of his heart and the twitch of his blood in his veins. He can feel his own heart increasing speed just slightly, just enough to beat in unison with Will's, as his breath also shifts to join the rhythm of his lover's.