Dr. Hannibal Lecter (poisonlittleboy) wrote in valarlogs, @ 2016-01-30 17:27:00 |
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Entry tags: | !complete, hannibal lecter, will graham |
Who: Hannibal and Will
What: A birthday trip
When: The weekend of the 23rd
Where: A nice hotel in LA
Warnings: R for discussions of violence
Status: Completed
Hannibal is honestly very pleased to have the weekend away, and he'll have to write Vlad a nice thankyou note when he gets home. The hotel is beautiful, their room has a view of the beach that is breath taking. He plans on going onto the beach at least for a little while, hopefully he can drag with him.
He sets his and Will's bags down, looking quite pleased with life, beaming happily at Will. "Vlad chose well, don't you think?"
It's not every day you can say you get a nice weekend away courtesy of Dracula. Then again, their lives are so the opposite of every day that it's not even worth bringing up. He nods, moving to look out the window.
"Something tells me that he's not exactly the sort most would consider to have bad taste."
"No indeed. We have similar tastes, in fact." The comment is a little wry, and he smiles to himself.
He comes up behind Will, warms around his waist, kissing his neck. "I'm not certain, twenty years ago, or even ten, this is where I expected to be at fifty. But I'm happy with where I am."
"You never expected to be at some swanky hotel in Los Angeles? I'm shocked." Will snorts out a big of a huff. He's teasing. He knows, of course, what Hannibal means. Who could predict this would become their lives? But here it is, and here they are.
"Well, maybe." Another kiss under Will's ear, his fingers dragging over his shirt where he knows the scar sits underneath. "But not with someone I found such a deep connection with. On so many levels."
"No, I definitely didn't ever think I'd meet my murder husband." Will had been cheeky enough to actually frame that article. He'd left it on Hannibal's desk on the day of his actual birthday to be a brat, but it had inspired him in the way of a real present. Speaking of. "Do you want your gift now or later?"
In all honesty, Will's penchant for being bratty is part of why Hannibal loves him so much. If he were sweet and nice all the time, it would be so dull. Will is perfect the way he is.
His hand keeps up its slow touches, hand moving lazily over Will's stomach. "Whenever the mood strikes you."
"The mood is striking me now. For an old man, you're pretty handsy." Will dislodges himself from Hannibal's hold. He takes the time to flash him an amused sort of smirk, then he goes to get his bag. From it, he produces a bottle of champagne wrapped in gold, and another carefully wrapped square package.
"Oh my. This I think we ought to save for after dinner, hmm?" Hannibal admires the bottle of champagne before setting it aside for post dinner celebrations. The square package he raises his eyebrows at before meticulously unwrapping it.
Another article, but this one he thinks is not intended to be cheeky. He smiles and taps his fingers lightly against the glass. "The heart I left for you in Italy, yes?"
Will is mildly apprehensive. Romance isn't his strong suit, and he never knows what to give as gifts because he never has to. "It's quite possibly the most romantic thing anyone's ever done for me. Don't smudge the glass."
"Forgive me." He props the picture up on the nightstand and takes Will's face in his hands, kissing him tenderly. "I've been tempted to do something similar here, but I've restrained myself. I haven't done anything like that in this life, I don't know that my skills would match those in my dream. I wouldn't want to give you a sub-par gift."
That's interesting. Will raises his eyebrows. "You want to turn someone into a heart for me? Or just leave me a crime scene in general?" It's terrible, isn't it, how that excites him. It excited him in the dreams, too. "You just need some practice." A pause. "Not that I'm saying you should go kill people."
"Yes." It comes out deep, more of a throaty noise than an actual word and he captures Will's mouth again. "I have... a source. That might be able to provide me with materials, if asked. No killing required on my part."
He hums into the kiss, letting it run its course before speaking again. "It doesn't seem ... The same, does it? If you don't do it yourself. Like taking credit for someone else's work."
"Good god," he half laughs against Will's mouth, dragging his fingers over the sides of his neck. "The one thing that has prevented me from trying here was the thought of your disapproval. And here you are, encouraging me."
"I'm not," Will says. He is, he knows he is, and he's not sure why. It's nothing something either of them should be thinking about, is it? Here Will's spent so much time being wary of what Hannibal might become and now he's trying to lure Hannibal into that life. It's ironic, if you think about it. "I'm not encouraging anything. Just pointing out a fact."
"And if some day a tableau was reported in the papers, something you knew could only be for you, would you turn me in?" It's something he's craved for a long time now. His arrangement with Vlad satiates it a little, being able to get his hands into a body. Though Will's right, it's not nearly as satisfying. They're always cold by the time they get to him.
He snorts. Then he laughs. Are they talking about this? Will can see the consideration in Hannibal's eyes, can see all too clearly that this is a possibility. "Who would believe me? I know it's him because I dream about it."
"You wouldn't though, would you Will? You'd enjoy your gift. Maybe even frame the article. Start a scrapbook, perhaps. I'd give you deniability, only ever leave them in places that couldn't be traced back to you. Though I suspect you'd enjoy it even more if you came home to a tableau in the basement. Carefully crafted, all for you. One you could get close to. Touch, if you wanted."
"Scrapbooking is more a you thing," Will replies, but it's half hearted in its retort. The fact is, yes, he'd like all of that. He'd like it all more than he should ever admit, and a conversation he once had about Hannibal becoming what he is comes to mind. How ironic, he thinks, that in this world, Hannibal may turn out to be his design instead. Will likes that, too.
"I'd want one everyone could see. At least once. I'd like knowing what no one else would."
"I think that could be managed." Without Will's encouragement, Hannibal might have simply kept his quiet arrangement with Vlad, satisfying his cravings, so to speak, in that manner. But both here and in their dreams, he can't seem to be able to deny Will anything. "I'll keep it a surprise, shall I?"
"You always do." Will presses a kiss to Hannibal's cheek and composes himself, reaching for the bottle of champagne. "I'm going to get some ice for this, then we can kill some time until it's chilled."
"An interesting turn of phrase," Hannibal points out. But he hangs his jacket over the back of a chair; his version of getting more comfortable. "Would you prefer to order room service this evening, then? And tomorrow we could have a look at the restaurant."
"How about you keep it a surprise until I get back?" Will's lips curl up into an amused smirk. He gets the ice bucket and the keycard, then slips out the door.