Will has never felt more safe in his entire life than he does right now, held deep in a bath full of hot water and the tight in the embrace of a man he knows very well (very intimately) is a serial murderer and a cannibal. Hannibal has even tried to kill him before, though, so far, never with his own hands; still, despite how easily he could do it right now, wrap a firm hand around Will's throat or shift to snap his neck, could pull a concealed weapon and cut any number of large arteries, filling the tub with the hot flow of Will's lifeblood, Will knows he won't, not now, not for a long time to come. They have an path before them now, one that, for the foreseeable future, has no end, just twists and turns that they will follow together.

In addition to that, Will has made a decision to give Hannibal anything he asks for, has already given Hannibal everything he has: his trust, his loyalty, his heart, his body, and his life. He wants Hannibal to have it, he needs it, and he hopes Hannibal won't ask for Will's last breath until he's ready to breathe his own.

Sighing, Will reaches back carefully to cup Hannibal's head, his fingers smoothing over Hannibal's fine hair and down onto the back of Hannibal's neck. His fingertips press into Hannibal's cervical spine for a moment, the tension telling Hannibal all of those things he hasn't found the words to say before he lets his hand drop away back into the water.

"What will we do tomorrow?" Will asks softly, still relaxing, eyes closed and body heavy in Hannibal's arms.