Will Graham

Hannibal draws a slow breath as Will's fingers press into his spine, the affection intended perfectly clear. Hannibal has always appreciated the affection of others, but as one might appreciate the affection of a pet, or, perhaps more accurately, of a farm animal one is tasked to care for. A cow can be pleasantly affectionate to the farmer, but the farmer will still slaughter it when the time comes. And perhaps Hannibal will do the same with Will. However, the affection he is receiving from his friend feels different. Will is not merely a dog performing tricks on command, nor a livestock animal whose ultimate purpose is to nourish with his death. He's an equal, yes, but he is also something infinitely precious. Hannibal cannot imagine that his life would be anything but impoverished without Will in it, that the world would be anything but less beautiful. And the fact that there is a reciprocity there, that perhaps Will feels the same, is just as precious, just as beautiful. Just as vital to Hannibal's life now.

When Will relaxes against him, Hannibal smiles and reaches for the soap and a washcloth, careful not to jostle him. "There are a number of options," he says, dipping the washcloth into the water. "We could spend the day exploring the city. Or we could focus on stocking the pantry." He rubs the wet washcloth against the soap, working up a lather. "Or, we could stay here. Rest. And explore each other."

He puts the soap aside, and begins to gently wash Will's chest.

"Do you have a preference?"