#eli writes things

In which there are puddles, pets, and apologies.

Sorry for the long wait - here y’all go! I hope you enjoy it.

Will almost couldn’t contain his laughter, nearly doubled over as he fought to keep his restraint. Hannibal frowned, the expression only making his current state – the hat he had tried on still on his head, large elf ears sticking out of either side of it – more funny.

“I am beginning to think this may have been a mistake.”

“No,” Will gasped, shaking his head. “No, this was one of the best ideas we’ve had in awhile. I’m so glad you agreed to it.”

He continued to laugh even when Hannibal pushed a similar hat onto his head, for he’d caught sight of the smile pulling at the corners of Hannibal’s mouth. The sight filled him with warmth.

“Will,” Hannibal chided lightly, “If you eat all of it, our guests won’t be able to have any.”

Will shrugged, breaking another piece of gingerbread off of the miniature house. It had been finished recently, that afternoon in fact, and he’d been waiting to try it.

And by try it he meant eat enough of it that Hannibal would have to give it to him and make another for the upcoming party they would be attending.

“If you didn’t want me eating it,” Will spoke after swallowing the bit he was chewing. “Then you wouldn’t have put it out in the open, where I could get to it.”

Silence let him know he had won and he grinned, beckoning with one hand.

“Come here, you can help me. This is delicious, but I’d also be grateful for the company.”

“As you wish.” There was a note of fond exasperation in Hannibal’s voice.

“Thank you.” Will held out another piece to him, his expression softening.

A burst of something travelled up his arm as their fingers brushed, Hannibal plucking the piece from him and eating it.

“Well?”

“It’s delicious,” Hannibal said after eating it. “Though I doubt I’m a good judge, as I can be a bit biased when it comes to my cooking.”

Will yawned, rubbing traces of sleep from his eyes. Yesterday’s sledding antics had left him exhausted and a bit sore, and he’d collapsed into bed almost immediately upon getting home – when had he begun to call this house home, part of him wondered.

It wasn’t until his body lifted itself from sleep that he opened his eyes. He couldn’t remember the last time in his life he slept so well.

Eventually, the morning light coupled with the smell of coffee and faint sizzling sounds of cooking beckoned him, and he stumbled from bed to stand where he was currently, at the top of stairs.

He was sure his hair was mussed horribly from sleep and he looked far less than presentable in his current state of attire, but his hunger drove him to go forward. Besides, he mused as he descended the stairs, running a hand haphazardly through his hair, it wasn’t as if Hannibal hadn’t seen him at his worst. More than once. Often, he’d been the cause of said worst state.

Past, he reminded himself, suppressing another yawn. That was all in the past. As he crossed the hall and headed for the source of the delicious smells and sounds, he noted the faint notes of classical music playing.

The music was coming from a radio on one of the counters, Will found upon entering the kitchen.

“Good morning, Will,” came the upbeat greeting from Hannibal, who seemed to materialize from his place across the room. A warm cup was pressed into his hand, the welcoming scent of coffee rising from it.

“Thank you,” Will rasped, voice still rough from sleep. He found that the drink was perfectly prepared to his liking – of course – upon taking a sip.

“Please, have a seat,” Hannibal gestured to the small island located off-center in the room.

Will grunted his acknowledgement, focused on his coffee as he made his way over to it and slid onto one of its stools. The sounds of Hannibal moving about the kitchen resumed.

“Smells good,” Will said, more into his cup than to his companion.

“I’m glad you think so.” The slight smile was clear in Hannibal’s voice. “Sausage with eggs and pancakes. I hope you find it to your liking.”

“I’m sure I’ll have no trouble with that,” Will muttered, doing his best to hide one last small yawn in his coffee.

The sounds of cooking soon ceased, volume of the classical music lowering a bit before a plate was placed on the table in front of him. With a hum of appreciation, Will dug in. The sausage he ate first – was this some poor unfortunate soul who had made the dire mistake of being rude to either him or Hannibal in the past few weeks?

Either way, it was delicious. The pancakes followed, fluffy and buttered just right, lightly drizzled with syrup. He did his best to savor every bite.

It was when he reached the scrambled eggs that he paused briefly, lifting his gaze as he reached for his cup.

And almost choked on the coffee. He burst into laughter, nearly dropping his fork.

Hannibal merely inclined an eyebrow, only ceasing his eating to speak when he’d finished chewing and swallowed.

“What is it?”

“That- ” Will wheezed, staring at what was most certainly the ugliest Christmas sweater he’d ever seen. Reindeer circled the chest, snow falling against a background of black fabric. “I just- So that’s what you were hiding yesterday in the store.”

“Perhaps,” Hannibal allowed, sipping from his own cup. “I may have gotten one for you as well.”

“The exact same?” Will asked.

“See for yourself,” Hannibal nodded to a bag in the corner of the kitchen.

Will hopped off the stool and moved over to it, reaching to pull out another sweater. Instead of reindeer, however, it had several dogs on it; each one wearing various accessories. One had a fake red nose, another had deer antlers, and the last had a bow tied around its body.

Without further delay, Will pulled it over his head and on, straightening it before turning to Hannibal.

“I love it,” he declared as he returned to sit across from him. “Thank you.”

Hannibal smiled, and Will felt the last bit of fatigue lift from his shoulders.

“Did you partake in winter activities as a child?”

The question had Will pausing mid-step, a slight frown on his face.

“Once or twice, I guess. But not ever consistently. Why do you ask?”

Wordlessly, Hannibal took the bag of grocery items from Will. His next moves lasted mere moments as he entered the house and returned, coat still immaculate despite his rather quick pace. He gestured for Will to follow him, snow crunching underfoot as the two headed back towards the car.

“Where are we going?”

“To celebrate the season,” Hannibal answered, “by sledding.”

“You, sledding,” Will’s tone was incredulous. “Are you sure?”

Hannibal continued as though he hadn’t heard, opening the driver’s side door.

“We might need to stop at a store to purchase several of the larger variety.”

With that, he moved to sit inside the car.

“How does it look?” Will called over his shoulder, gritting his teeth as he adjusted the last bit of the light strand. When he was sure he wouldn’t fall of the ladder, he turned to look down.

“You’ve done a fine job,” Hannibal replied in a raised voice from his place on the ground, hands in his coat pockets. “But the end there is a bit crooked – perhaps more to the left?”

Will sighed, but did as asked.

“Now?”

“Up just a bit.”

“Now?” Will huffed, not bothering to turn around this time.

“A bit more right.”

He could hear the smile in Hannibal’s voice, the smug bastard. Finally, he’d had enough, drawing back from the rooftop and descending the ladder.

“You know what,” he said as he climbed, “I’m done. It’s straight enough.”

Upon reaching the ground, he glanced up.

And of course, the end he’d been driven to fiddle with was crooked.

“Funny.”

“To me, yes,” Hannibal admitted, a smirk coloring his words.

“I fail to see how this is funny.”

Will grinned, shifting a bit to make himself more comfortable. Another long day of outdoor work removing ice and snow had left them both feeling rather chilly. So, they had built the makeshift blanket-bed once more next to the active fireplace (at Will’s suggestion) and were now laying together side-by-side (at Hannibal’s).

“It’s not,” Will shook his head, gaze dropping. “I was just, uh, a little lost I guess. In an old memory.”

The emotion in Hannibal’s eyes softened.

“If it is something that provides you comfort, then I am satisfied knowing just that and no more. I won’t insult you by prying.”

“No,” Will said, surprising himself, “I don’t mind. It’s-” He frowned slightly, “nothing big, really. Just that I used to celebrate my days off in the winter by taking the dogs for as long of a run as I could manage.” He smiled faintly, a sentimental sort of ache in his chest. “Once when we got back to the house, my teeth were chattering.”

He glanced up, seeing Hannibal watching and listening closely. Satisfied, Will looked away once more, biting his lip before continuing.

“I was so cold, I wrapped myself up in blankets and lit a fire. I curled up on the floor in front of it, and the dogs- they came over and made a little circle around me, helped me warm up.”

A wet sensation on his cheeks brought him out of his slight daze and he blinked, realizing he had shed a few tears. He quickly swiped at his eyes with the back of his hand.

“You miss your dogs,” Hannibal spoke, a hint of regret lacing his voice. “I’m sorry I took you from them, Will.”

Will was quick to respond.

“Don’t be silly,” he gently admonished, catching the hint of surprise that crossed Hannibal’s face out of the corner of his eye. “They were the only ones – well, almost the only ones – who understood me. Of course I miss them. But,” he turned to meet Hannibal’s eyes head-on, “I don’t regret leaving with you. I know they’ll find good homes.”

Silence. He’d never really taken the time before, to notice that he felt completely relaxed under Hannibal’s scrutinizing gaze.

“If you had to choose again,” Hannibal murmured, an almost nervous edge to his voice, “Would you stay behind? If the Dragon had never confronted us as one.”

Will pondered the question for a moment before nodding once briefly to himself.

“No,” he answered, unblinking as he stared back at Hannibal. “I would have come with you. And the Dragon would have confronted us sooner or later. Both events were unavoidable, but it wouldn’t have made a difference if they had played out differently. Not to me.”

Almost tentatively, Will lifted a hand, fingers ghosting ever so lightly across Hannibal’s cheek, watching as his eyes slid closed and he leaned into the touch. Will paused for a moment, then moved closer himself, his forehead coming to rest against Hannibal’s. He closed his eyes.

“I chose this,” he continued, voice low. “I chose you. You chose me. Simple as. I don’t regret it.”

He felt the tips of their noses brush, let a warm smile curl his lips. Even though he couldn’t see it, he knew Hannibal was smiling too, thought he heard him let out a breath that sounded like Will’s name.