Alana Finds Out: Bed Sharing
This is a horribly belated birthday present for my marvellous murder twin, the wonderful @devereauxsdisease. All my apologies for the lateness, honey, and I hope you enjoy this latest bout of Hannigram being very, very bad boys xD.
“Yes. A roll-away, a cot, hell I’ll take an inflatable mattress at this point.”
Alana watched as Will’s hand gestures passed the point of dramatic and into danger-to-bystanders, and rolled her eyes. She wasn’t exactly happy about the situation either, but she wasn’t making a scene. Will Graham could be a real drama queen when he wanted to – that whole shy, retiring puppy routine was just a convenient disguise.
“Sir, we are not the kind of establishment that retains such things as camp beds.” The receptionist drew out the last two syllables with a kind of officious sarcasm that made Alana smirk. Nice for Will to get a taste of his own snark for once.
“Will,” Hannibal’s voice rolled between the two opponents, smooth and placating. “The situation is not ideal, it is true, but we are lucky to have been provided a room at all at this late hour and without a booking. Please allow this gentleman to check us in and then we will see what arrangements can be made.”
For a moment Will looked like he might keep arguing, or possibly just deck Hannibal, but then he visibly deflated and stepped aside. Hannibal bestowed an approving smile upon him, to be met with a glare, so he turned it to Alana instead, adding what he probably imagined was a wink. She gave him a wide, warm smile in response – hopefully Will would just silently sulk his way through the night and make it easy to ignore him.
“I don’t see why I can’t just sleep in the car.”
Or not. Alana sighed as Will took up the same argument they’d been having since it became apparent that the worsening snowfall wasn’t safe to drive in and there was no way they’d be making it back from the (frustratingly unrewarding) case Jack had sent them out on until morning at the earliest. He would insist yet again that there was nothing wrong with sleeping in a car, that he’d done it plenty of times in his childhood and had turned out perfectly fine (debatable, Alana thought). And Hannibal would make the same completely obvious points that the weather was freezing, the hire car was cramped, and Jack would never forgive him if his prize empath returned to him either frozen or in need of emergency osteopathy. Round and round they went, as if they were more interested in poking at each other than in actually getting checked in at all.
She was getting really bored of this routine now.
“Hi, I’m sorry for my colleague,” she said, stepping up to the desk with an apologetic smile, “he has a phobia of letting people do nice things for him.” In the background, Will let out an indignant Hey! but she ignored him in favour of behaving like an actual grownup. “Is there anything else we need to do to check in, or can we leave you in peace and head on up to our room?”
“Thank you madam,” the receptionist said, with a conspiratorial smile, “if the gentleman will simply sign this form, I can hand over your key.”
“Wonderful. Will, be quiet for two minutes and let Hannibal finish up so we can at least sit down while you complain.”
Will crossed his arms and glared at her but, thankfully, kept his mouth shut as Hannibal signed with a flourish and accepted their keys.
Funny, though, Alana could swear that the receptionist threw Hannibal a wink as they turned towards the elevators. Maybe he was just demonstrating how they worked.
“I’m going to sleep in the tub.”
Well, Alana wasn’t going to argue with that. If Will wanted to martyr himself while she enjoyed the enormous, luxurious looking bed in the arms of her enormous, luxurious boyfriend, that was his business.
Sadly, Hannibal disagreed.
“I cannot allow you to do so, Will. Quite apart from the inconvenience of having to wake you should one of us require the use of the bathroom during the night, the potential damage to your back and neck is quite unacceptable.”
“Since when do you care about my body’s well-being?” Will growled.
Alana opened her mouth to object – Hannibal wasn’t the one who’d tried to have Will killed – but Hannibal got in before her.
“As I have told you before, Will, you are my friend. I care about you in all your aspects.” Will sneered but said nothing. “I also have no qualms about telling you when you are being foolish. The bed is more than large enough to fit all of us and we are all, I hope, mature enough to spend one night together without disaster.”
Will looked mutinous, and his continued unpleasant behaviour rubbed Alana the wrong way. “Will, you’re behaving like a child. Hannibal’s right, let’s just put our differences to one side and get some sleep,” she told him, exasperated.
“Fine. But we’re going top to tail.”
Hannibal raised an eyebrow with what looked remarkably close to a look of incredulity. Alana translated for him: “He means he’ll sleep with his head at the foot of the bed.”
The look of incredulity turned to one of faint distaste. “I would prefer not to sleep with your feet next to my nose.”
Will snorted. “I’ll shower beforehand, doctor, I wouldn’t dare compromise your delicate nasal sensibilities.”
“Even so, I would prefer not to be kicked in the middle of the night and I am aware you tend to be somewhat of a restless sleeper.”
“I don’t need to be asleep to want to kick your teeth in.”
“Will!” Alana seethed. “Hannibal saved us from a freezing night in the car, at his own expense, and all you can do is behave like a thug. I really thought better of you.” A thought occurred to her. “And anyway, who says you’ll be sleeping next to Hannibal?”
Both men looked at her with expressions entirely devoid of intelligence.
“Excuse me?” Will blurted.
“I’ll sleep between you.” And she definitely wouldn’t mention the fantasies she’d had involving exactly that.
Will just goggled at her, mouth flapping like one of his landed fish, and Alana stared right back, realising belatedly that Will might well have read that thought on her face. And then, horribly, realising that he probably had entertained fantasies of a similar nature.
Maybe this was a really bad idea…
“I’m afraid I could not allow that either, Alana,” Hannibal’s voice cut softly through her thoughts. She turned her rapidly-flushing face away from Will’s own rosy cheeks to look over at him. “I could hardly call myself a gentleman if I allowed my significant other to be put in such a position. Besides which, I must admit, I am too possessive to bear the thought of it. No, if anyone is to sacrifice their comfort in this situation, it will be me.”
Behind them, Will snorted, and muttered something that Alana couldn’t quite make out but that apparently required a full-body eye roll. Then he let out an exaggerated sigh and flapped his hands in defeat. “Look, it’s fine, I’ll sleep next to Hannibal. Head where it’s supposed to be,” he added, petulantly. “I’m sure you two will be playing big spoon, little spoon anyway.” He sounded bitter, and if Alana hadn’t been completely exhausted, she might have called him out on his jealousy. Instead, she just threw an exasperated smile at Hannibal, who stroked a hand through her hair and leaned in to brush a kiss against her cheek.
“Thank you, Will,” he said, moving away from Alana to hang up his coat. “I know it’s hardly ideal but it will be better if we all try to make the best of it.”
Will just glared and stomped off to the bathroom, slamming the door behind him.
They managed another three arguments before finally getting into bed (the biggest of which concerned the fact that Hannibal wasn’t wearing an undershirt and would therefore have to sleep in nothing but his underwear, a fact which caused Will to turn a most interesting shade of puce). However, eventually Alana found herself with Hannibal’s thickly-furred chest spooned up against her (she ignored Will’s derisive snort upon discovering he had been right about their sleeping positions). Closing her eyes, she could imagine that it was just her and Hannibal, tucked up on a romantic getaway, no surly third wheel empaths in tow.
At least, she could until it turned out Will was the type who needed to change positions every two minutes in order to get comfortable, and made plenty of noise doing it. She sighed and snuggled deeper into Hannibal’s pelt. Let Will grouse all he liked, she was definitely the winner here.
Alana awoke in the pre-dawn gloom, shaking off the remnants of a dream of being suffocated by the whole of Will’s pack sleeping on her, Applesauce joining them to lie on her head. Cracking an eye open, she quickly ascertained that the cause of her nightmare was also the reason she was covered in sweat despite the temperature-controlled room: at some point during the night, her bedmates had shucked off the covers and deposited them on top of her. If Hannibal had been conscious, she would have been shocked at the rudeness. Though at least he’d stopped spooning her, she reflected, as she freed herself from her Egyptian cotton prison and sat up, otherwise she might simply have melted… away…
Apparently Hannibal hadn’t released her from his arms because he was hot. Or rather, he was hot, just not for her.
Her boyfriend and the man who had tried to have him killed were twined about each other, a picture of peaceful intimacy. The lack of blankets left nothing to the imagination: Will and Hannibal lay facing each other, Will with one leg hitched over Hannibal’s thigh, a hand lain on top of his chest, Hannibal with both arms locked protectively around Will’s torso. And, as if to add insult to injury, Will’s head was in the exact position Alana’s had been so many times, buried in Hannibal’s neck, while Hannibal…
Alana realised with a jolt that while Hannibal usually held her after sex, it was never like this. His arms were always loose, his head fallen back against his pillow, maintaining a distance even in their most intimate moments. But now, he was embracing Will like the man would have to fight to get free, and his head was bent low against Will’s, his nose and mouth buried in sleep-mussed curls. He looked…
They looked like they fit. Like they’d always meant to be like this. Like anyone who tried to get between them would only ever be in the way.
Exactly how they always looked, in other words.
They looked fucking perfect and it was pissing Alana off because now she thought about it, it was so fucking obvious. The way they spoke like it was a dance, the way they stood just that little bit too close, the way their eyes would instantly find the other’s in any room. Dammit, could she really yell at them for falling in love? She wasn’t even sure there was anything to shout about - for all she knew, they were no wiser about their feelings themselves. In fact, there was a good chance they were going to wake up and freak out… well, Will would freak out at least. Hannibal would be all reasonable and charming and they’d spend at least three days debating their feelings with liberal use of pretentious and obscure metaphors and, holy shit there was no way Alana was going to be around for that clusterfuck.
She needed to get out of this room before the two idiots involved her any more in their romantic snafu.
Moving as silently as possible, she slid from the bed and took stock of the situation. There were no bags to pack, all she had on her was her purse and briefcase, both neatly stacked on a chair and easily grabbed. All she had to do before getting out of the room was change back into her clothes and smooth down the worst of her bed head. She could be in a taxi (at Hannibal’s expense, obviously) and on her way back to Baltimore before either of the two sleeping beauties could wake up and start trying to pretend they were “just friends” again.
Maybe she’d even leave them a note. Just kiss already. Love, everyone who’s ever met you.
Plan made, she crept into the bathroom, grabbing her clothes on the way, and closed the door softly behind her. Blessing the gods of five star hotels for complimentary toothpaste, she cleaned up as best she could and pulled on her clothes, reflecting that if Hannibal’s idea of courtship included being accused of murder and nearly killed, she was probably better out of that relationship.
And then she heard it, a sleepy grunt that signalled somebody was on the verge of waking. She looked to the door and tried to calculate if she could feasibly flee before whoever was now awake could stop her. She stepped towards it, reasoning that even if they did try, who was gonna be the one who made it to the car – the fully dressed woman or the half-naked man with bedhead and a guilty expression? Even Hannibal couldn’t bring dignity to that look.
Sadly, her escape was not to be, for just as she reached for the handle, another noise filtered through the door. Not a grunt this time, but the sound of Will sleepily asking, “Where am… what… Hannibal?”
Oh, wonderful. Now she was going to be treated to the full symphonic experience of Will Graham in emotional freefall.
“Oh god, Hannibal… that feels so good…”
That was definitely not the sound of an emotional breakdown. Unless emotional breakdowns involve moaning someone’s name in such a blatantly pornographic tone that Alana was sure she was blushing on Will’s behalf.
But surely they weren’t going to… not when she could still have been in bed next to them… they wouldn’t…
“Ohhhhhhhhh, Will please, don’t stop!”
What followed were the longest thirteen minutes of Alana’s life, during which she learned that, unless one is an active participant in proceedings, sex noises and dirty talk are nothing short of completely mortifying.
Like this, just like… ohhh… ohhhhhhh Will!
Ah, fuck, Hannibal not so hard… hey, I didn’t tell you to stop, just don’t rip it off!
Come on, baby (baby! Who knew Will Graham was one for pet names?), I’m so close.
Beautiful… oh… yes there… yes… *incomprehensible moaning in French*
Yeah, you like that, baby? Gonna get inside you next time, gonna make you feel it.
Honestly, it was like listening to badly produced porn. Plus Hannibal kept making this really strange high-pitched mewling noise that she was sure he’d never made around her. Will seemed to like it though, if his increase in baby’s was anything to go by.
Finally, they finished, with what could only be described as a squeal from Will that made Alana extremely glad she’d never let him get further than a kiss. She could hear them panting, no doubt gazing into each other’s eyes, as if they were the first people ever to give each other orgasms.
At this point, Will finally started in with the predicted shrieking:
“Oh fuck, we forgot about Alana!”
Who?! Oh that is not going to stand.
“Ok, I was just going to sneak out quietly and concede defeat,” Alana growled as she marched out of the bathroom and towards the bed, “but the better part of a decade listening to your pretentious lectures on art and drinking your terrible beer – seriously, what do you put in that stuff, Hannibal? – means I deserve better than a ‘Who?’”
She paused to shoot a withering look at Will, who was trying to pull the covers up to his chin, despite still wearing his t-shirt. Hannibal was still shamelessly flashing his pelt, of course.
“Oh please, Will, as if I haven’t seen both of you dressed for bed,” she snarked, enjoying the look of jealous confusion that flashed across Hannibal’s face. Will could explain that one if he felt like it.
“Alana, I’m… it isn’t… and we haven’t…” Will stammered, giving up the struggle with the bedsheets and dropping his head into his hands instead.
“I genuinely don’t give a fuck, Will. Even though I just heard loud and clear that it is and you have.” They gaped at her, unattractively. There was a piece of Hannibal’s hair standing straight up on end that added to the effect, and it took every ounce of willpower Alana had to keep from laughing in his face. “No, seriously, it was a great show. Bit too heavy on the ‘baby’s, and some of the noises Hannibal was making were just weird, but overall you got the job done. A solid seven out of ten, but it was your first time, so I bet you can bump it up to an eight if you practice really hard.”
By this point Will had turned so red Alana was mildly concerned he might burn up from the inside, and even Hannibal looked as if he was squirming a little. Time to really put the knife in, she decided.
“There’s really just one thing to say before I go – and I’m taking the car, by the way, you can make your own way back. I just have to wonder – how is Will going to react when he finds out that you set this little stunt up?”
“He what?” Will yelled, as Hannibal pulled out the most innocent of his faces, the one that would never fool Alana again after this debacle.
“I’m afraid you are mistaken, Alana, or perhaps trying to discredit-”
“Shut up, Hannibal. I saw the wink the receptionist gave you last night. I thought he was just flirting, but when I think about it, you were so eager to get into the building before the rest of us. Almost rude, even, leaving us to park the car while you ran off into the warm. Paid him off to tell us there was only one room, right?”
“Oh god,” Will groaned, and, seeing that he wasn’t convincing anyone anymore, Hannibal allowed a smug expression to overtake his innocent one.
“Very clever of you, Alana,” he purred. “I must admit, I did not intend for things to go quite this far-”
“You mean you didn’t intentionally give Will a handjob whilst I was in earshot?” Alana snapped.
“Um…” Will shot her a look that she was sure he’d copied from one of the dogs when they’d been caught doing something naughty. Buster, probably. “Hannibal wasn’t, technically, the one giving the handjob. Not that that excuses him!” he added hastily, off Alana’s furious glare. “But… um… could I just check something for a minute?”
Alana’s glare turned incredulous. “What, Will, could you possibly have to check right now? The location of your dignity? Because I assure you that went out the window along with the last remaining shreds of our friendship.”
Will seemed to deflate for a second, then hauled himself up straight and looked her straight in the face. “Ok, that makes this easier.” He turned to Hannibal, who was gazing at him curiously. “You set all this up so that you could trick me into bed?”
“Not exactly that, no. I merely wished for you to deal with your feelings for me.”
Will rolled his eyes. “There had to be easier ways, Hannibal.”
“I did not plan it in advance, I merely took the opportunity that presented itself.”
“You went to a lot of trouble just on the off chance.”
“I have been to far more trouble than this for you, dear Will,” Hannibal said, gazing at him with a frankly gooey expression that turned Alana’s stomach. Unfortunately, as she turned from one unpleasantly lovestruck face, she found that Will was wearing a similarly sappy look on his.
“Yeah,” he said, with an obnoxiously wistful tone. “Prefer the outcome this time though.”
“Oh for fuck’s sake, you’re both as bad as each other!” Alana yelled, beyond exasperated with the pair of them. She turned to leave, and then realised that, while that first attempt was admittedly crude, she had a far more elegant way to mess with her former friends’ heads.
She slid back round and, with a casually cruel tone said, “By the way, Will, did you know Hannibal hates your dogs?”
Will’s head snapped round in shock. “He… he does?”
“Oh yeah, he talks about it all the time.” Then she added, with every appearance of seriousness, “Especially Buster. He thinks he’s rude.” And, grinning at the devastated look on Will’s face, and the murderous one on Hannibal’s, she pivoted, grabbed the car keys, and strode out.
And turned the Do Not Disturb sign to Please Service This Room just for good measure.
