Have a heart! Buy organs! @hannibalchautime - Tumblr Blog

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what are you gonna do when your precious marshal finds out you're funding extremists?

Didn’t confirm or deny nothing.

#[ ignore the text disclaimer ]#anon;

Are any Kaiju Extremists on your payroll?

"For confidentiality's sake I can't tell you shit."

"Got a lot of people who don't want to be found."

marshallherculeshansen-blog

AU: Our Happy Little Domestic Life...When the Kitchen Isn't On Fire || Hannibal/Herc

marshallherculeshansen-blog

Herc nods, taking another big bite of soup. He gave Hannibal the option because he was hopping that he’d take it. If they could get what was left of the paperwork done this evening, than Hannibal could focus on resting for the rest of the evening and weekend, relaxing and, Herc prayed, letting Hannibal get better.

"Sounds fair." He gets the rest of the bowl down and stands, grabbing their dishes. He puts them in the dish washer and then makes sure the soup goes into the fridge. He gets the water and makes Hannibal some tea, grabbing himself a glass of water. "Now?"

hannibalchautime

"What? You got a schedule conflict?" All he had to do was read a succession of 12 plodding and plotless novellas on procedures, contracts, particulars. All he had to do was sign his name on the goddamn line. Soup settling into his stomach he could calculatedly tip toe around the mental fog. Sleep could come later. There was no deadline for sleep. "Now."

Herc putters around the kitchen setting bowls into the dishwasher, putting away the pot of soup, pouring water, brewing tea ( for which he is, again, grateful ). Side comment, known on occasion in its variations to be optionally delivered with a jab in the ribs, "Christ you're domestic."

"Anyway," He waves his hand turning to the entrance turned exit of the kitchen, "sleep doesn't have a deadline. This crap? Sure shit does."

#para: AU our happy little domestic life #marshallherculeshansen

You lookin at Herc this V-Day?

"Wasn’t thinking about it."

"Besides. Don’t do Valentine’s Day."

#anon;

one--more--shot

"Oh shut up. I hate it because it’s fucking stupid. I don’t have time for stupid."

hannibalchautime

He snorts. "Stupid? What are you, fifteen? Be a little more eloquent."

"The love bullcrap- I ain't bitter- but I reason if you're needin' a holiday to show your partner some goddamn appreciation then you aren't cut out for the other 364. That's what chaps my damn hide. Now what's your gripe. Elaborate."

#[ ignore the text disclaimer ]#convo; dani

one--more--shot

"I’m going to find a way to destroy Valentines Day. I swear it."

hannibalchautime

You got a grudge against Valentine's Day?

It's twenty-four hours. You'll get over it.

#convo; dani #[ ignore the text disclaimer ]

marshallherculeshansen-blog

AU: Our Happy Little Domestic Life...When the Kitchen Isn't On Fire || Hannibal/Herc

marshallherculeshansen-blog

Herc smiles, shooting the look over his shoulder at Hannibal as he makes sure the pot is on the stove and starting to heat. “Good. Glad to know I can still shove some stuff in a pot and simmer.” He gives the soup a stir, sure Hannibal will eat some more before the weekend.

Soup was comfort and home, things that both Hannibal and Herc needed in their lives. It was simple and nice and regular. He gets his own glass and sits on the opposite side from Hannibal, starting in on his own bowl, hot and warming it’s way down his chest. Herc’s eyes linger on Hannibal as they eat, taking note of every cough and shiver.

"So we could watch a movie. Or there’s a football match on later. We can do the paperwork that needs to get done, or push that back from tomorrow or the day after, don’t need you really worrying over it…" Herc takes another large bite of chicken and rice. "Something you want to do? That’s not gonna put more stress on your body Han."

hannibalchautime

Hot as fever is the soup, the competing temperature proving the best distraction to his green gills. Herc talks between mouthfuls, the humming timbre of his voice enough to penetrate plugged ears and the tickle of a sneeze, rendering his mouth open as if about to speak, extending the active silence before his answer. The crescendo of a swelling breath reaches no resolved climax and sits uncomfortably in his sinuses as the sneeze is eliminated from possibility.

“You gave me the option, Herc: paperwork. Ain't resting 'til that's done." A hand raises and he wipes his nose, shifting his weight in his seat on finishing his soup. Hannibal rises. "I got a fire under my ass about this whether I like it or not."

#para: AU our happy little domestic life #marshallherculeshansen

marshallherculeshansen-blog

AU: Our Happy Little Domestic Life...When the Kitchen Isn't On Fire || Hannibal/Herc

marshallherculeshansen-blog

The bowl is placed on the counter, large soup spoon beside it as Hannibal speaks. Herc frowns, looking at him. Hannibal looks better than he did before the shower, clean, even relaxed. He raises his hand, gently pressing it to Hannibal’s forehead, still hot, but that’s what he was expecting.

"It’s ok to get sick Hannibal. No one’s gonna think you’re weak. I’ll help with the paperwork from the trip and you’ll rest and we can just do nothing for the weekend ok?" There’s something in Hannibal’s tone that Herc can’t place and it worries him a bit. Hannibal’s large hand rests on his shoulder and he can feel the heat coming through is palm.

Hannibal’s kiss though, soft against his skin makes Herc smiles, eases him. “Come on, start eating, I’ll be right back.” He hates to break the contact but he does, slipping away, back into their bedroom. The towel is dropped off on the way and he grabs boxers, soft, broken in RAAF sweats and an old teeshirt. On his return to the kitchen, he grabs Hannibal a large glass of water and puts the kettle on for him. “Well? Is it alright?”

hannibalchautime

Nodding, he is worn thin and compliant by sick waking hours. Unnoticed is the added weight of Hannibal’s eyes set on the damp drape of Herc’s towel, moving with his thighs down the hall to their room, all the while, before the rounding of the corner, hoping for sly telekinesis. The kitchen is empty, left to him and rising steam of the vital soup.

He sits at the kitchen table to the generous bowl, wielding in his hand the set aside spoon and, dipping into the broth, blowing the blistering heat into palatable warmth, tastes Herc’s handiwork. It went down easy. A man used to eating three well-rounded meals a day couldn’t bear eating when he was ill; the routine was shattered by hindered thought patterns, slower work. Eating took time. Energy. Maybe a weekend doing nothing would be nice.

Footsteps return. Words. That brief kitchen silence is broken by the running tap, Herc filling a glass, the setting of a kettle upon the stove.

“Well? Is it alright?”

Hannibal chews at a carrot, swallows chicken stock before saying, “Hell of a cook.”

#marshallherculeshansen #para: AU our happy little domestic life

marshallherculeshansen-blog

AU: Our Happy Little Domestic Life...When the Kitchen Isn't On Fire || Hannibal/Herc

marshallherculeshansen-blog

Hercules smiles a bit and watches Hannibal leave the bathroom, trailing wet footprints behind him. He dries himself off quickly then drops his extra towel to the ground, cleaning up the trails of water. He doesn’t want Hannibal to lift a finger tonight. He needs rest, comfort, the ability to recoup his natural strength that the sickness as pulled from him.

Herc wraps his towel around his hips and rests his hands on the sink, looking up at himself at the mirror. Over the hill and starting to look it, Herc’s managed to keep his weight right since taking on the Marshall-hood, but it’s been difficult. Losing so much and having to keep going, struggling with what he was, it was taxing. Herc could have found some sweet Australian thing and tried for kids again, but it would never be the same, it would never be Chuck and Ang. Hannibal understood that, didn’t push him to talk about those things, and for that he was grateful. Hannibal was what he needed now, not kids or grandkids.

He scrubbed at the scruff on his face and pushed himself away from the mirror, grabbed the spoon he’d left on the bathroom counter and went back into the kitchen. He didn’t bother getting dressed, opting instead to stand in front of the oven and check the soup, hot and right and just what Hannibal would need. He added salt and turned, smiling to the other man when he came back in. He gives him a nod. “Good. How ya feeling?”

Herc moves, grabbing a huge bowl and a ladle, getting his meal fixed.

hannibalchautime

"Rough, Herc. Ain't been this sick since-" He shakes his head; looking at the ladle, the boiling soup on the stove for the exact point on the misplaced timeline, "Been two years. Had a long run.”

Herc sets on the counter a large bowl and the ladle dips and dives into the soup. While he is fully aware he has not shacked up with a chef, he finds the smell agrees with his stomach.“’Bout time it caught up with this old bastard."

Cool afternoon light filters through the thin gauzy curtain drawn over the kitchen window; its clinical pallor subtracting nothing from the warm hues of the kitchen, of the heat from the soup, and, as he rests a hand on Herc's shoulder, coughing out of reach into the crook of his other elbow, the familiar heat from Herc's bared skin.

Painkillers kick in, killing the headache but not the aftermath or the spittle haunting his back of his throat. Some symptoms of illness were unerasable by nothing but time. He looks at Herc whose eyes are downset as he concentrates on the counter. Kisses his cheek as thanks for the caring.

#para: AU our happy little domestic life #marshallherculeshansen

chernosdaughter

Autumn’s fingers hastily rubbed at her forehead, a throbbing beginning to pound within her skull. The voice that responded was deep and even though the words weren’t threatening in anyway, chills found themselves cascading down her spine. Hazel eyes finally looked up and it took a moment before she realized who exactly she’d run into. A hesitant hand peeked forward, gripping Hannibal’s for a lift up.

"Not Jesus…right. Ah I’m sorry, didn’t mean to make you drop anything, or mess up your suit…", she answered as her eyes wandered over the fabric, the designer in her scrutinizing. Not a bad suit at all, just a lot of gold.

hannibalchautime

When she has risen to her feet he takes his cue to bend, picking up the disgruntled stack. "Word to the wise, kid."

Joining the edges of disorganized papers, he stands upward again, pointing at her with the ordered reports, "Don't run. You'll trip and poke out a goddamned eye. Ain't safe."

#convo: Autumn #chernosdaughter #[ ignore the text disclaimer ]

marshallherculeshansen-blog

AU: Our Happy Little Domestic Life...When the Kitchen Isn't On Fire || Hannibal/Herc

marshallherculeshansen-blog

Hannibal fits against Herc like a key sliding into a lock. Both men are too old for such ridiculous comparisons, but it’s one that Herc thinks of almost every time Hannibal’s hands slide against his body, fit in places like they were made for each other. His hand on his hip is warm and inviting and Herc can’t imagine a place he’d rather have it.

But before he can make a move, Hannibal’s suppressing another cough and Herc knows what he really needs at the moment is a bowl of soup (and maybe a blow job for dessert). He smiles at his lover, chuckling a bit. “Jesus don’t I know it, you love to watch, kinky bastard.”

He pulls back, kissing Hannibal once more before turning to stop the water, reaching out to grab towels. Before Hannibal can argue with him babying him, Herc’s wrapping one around his shoulders while dropping to his knees to dry off Hannibal. “Call your professional, but only after you eat some soup.”

Another kiss is pressed to Hannibal’s left leg while the towel works over his skin, whisking away moisture. Herc stands, still dripping himself and drys off his chest and back, running his fingers and a towel over Hannibal’s hair. “Go put some sweats on, I’ll dry off and grab you some food.”

hannibalchautime

“Alright, nurse Hansen.” Semi weary eyed, albeit clean, he dries off his face before wrapping haphazard, for decency’s sake, the towel around his waist. And it does not go unnoticed that in his act of selflessness, Herc has dripped from the contrasting confines of the bathmat onto the tile, leaving Hannibal to trail damp footprints over the hardwood to their bedroom, past the smell of soup that fills his lungs as olfactory apertif before it fills his stomach.

When so long in the habit of identifying weakness in the foundations of strong men, to Hannibal showing gentler affection behind closed doors had began after lust. There was no vulnerability in lust, in sly grabs, in smiles so rotten with intent, as there was in listening, in waiting, in quiet wanting. He finds he is not weakened by the confluence, but rather complimented.

Sliding one leg before another into black sweats, he knows Herc has not alleviated his burdens but has shared them. Festering in his throat is another cough. Phlegm sweet with sickness over his tongue, Hannibal swallows and, for an aching moment, coughing into the fabric of his undershirt, feels his age.

He is grateful. Perhaps today feeling so more than others where he takes the man for granted. Herc's in the kitchen.

"I needed that." He admits.

#para: AU our happy little domestic life #marshallherculeshansen

r-becket

“Weeeeeelllllllll…”

"My mum’s dead too and I kinda look like her. See, I can sympathise."

hannibalchautime

"Awful damn calm about this."

#convo; raleigh #prim au event;

marshallherculeshansen-blog

Herc sighs and nods, raising his hands to placate Hannibal. “I’m sorry. It’s been stressful to say the least. But I am trying. I’ve got K-Science from five different Shatterdomes on this as high priority. Anything you’ve got that could help would be good.”