a bit of domestic fluff and shameless smut, inspired by this bryan fuller-approved gifset by @sirenja-and-the-stag <3
Typically, Hannibal has respite from Will's eyes when he showers and dresses. They still keep separate rooms; truly, Hannibal is uncertain whether the desire he harbors for Will is shared as everything else between them seems to be.
Exiting the en suite after an unnecessary evening shower only to find Will sitting in his armchair, then, is an unexpected development.
This last fortress breached, Hannibal decides to address the tension. “It's rude to stare,” he says, though he can't help but do so himself.
Will holds his evening whiskey as nonchalantly as ever. If not for the location, Hannibal would be anticipating an irritating song request, something impractical for the harpsichord, let alone the theremin, yet another hallmark of their mutually irritating domesticity.
And the staring. Always the staring. This time, however, Hannibal feels practically filleted by Will's sight.
He only looks amused when he finally says, “Guess you have no choice but to eat me now.”
[read “edible” on ao3]
