He awakes with heartburn and a mild headache, naked in Hannibal’s bed. Will’s hungover but as his memory drifts to the night previous, he’s glad for where too much wine after dinner led to. Will recalls making out on the sofa in the den, wrapped up in one another in a way they hadn’t been since before Italy, years ago. He’d have been content with Hannibal having his way with him then and there, but they’d somehow made it upstairs.
Will’s aware of Hannibal’s presence behind him, likely very much awake. They have a habit of waking up together-- a detail Will had forgotten in the time of not sharing a bed.
He should say something. He can feel the tension in the room, Hannibal’s quiet anxiety hanging around them. Serves him right. Will basks in it, biding his time as he considers how, when given the space to come to Hannibal, slowly but surely he’d found his way back to him.
Will rolls over, affection coursing through him when he tucks his face against the solid warmth of Hannibal’s chest. He would drift back to sleep if it didn’t mean missing out on his company. A pleased murmur, “Hey, you.”
@personsuited
