I found this in my toolbox of things
You know how Will brought Hannibal crab cakes in that one chapter of RotS, and Hannibal was so sure it was going to be human body parts? Well. This is how I originally wrote that scene.
“The basilic vein; otherwise known as the virgin vein.”
Will crosses his arms over his chest, nervous under Hannibal’s appraisal. A light dances in his eyes that he finds no solace in except for the small warmth of pride it stirs in his chest.
“This is not your first kill, Will.”
“No.” Will stares Hannibal down, watches the amazement drift across Hannibal’s features like an autumnal leaf carried on a breeze. “Not the first.”
Hannibal’s gaze falls back to the finger in the small box. A smile graces his features, brightening his eyes and his entire face before it even touches his lips.
“And not to be the last,” Hannibal concludes, running the tip of his forefinger down the severed cornflower blue digit. He speaks with an unguarded gratitude the likes of which Will has never heard from him. “It’s exquisite, Will. Thank you.”
He hears other things left unsaid within the words. He hears, Thank you for not leaving me here alone. He hears, Thank you for seeing yourself, at last.
He hears praise and trust and foolish affection. The combination of those things rings something like love, but it can’t be, not until Hannibal says it. Will thinks he might for a moment, the way his eyes glisten in the darkened room. But the taut moment of precision wavers and disintegrates into banal commonality. Hannibal probes the detached finger in the box.
“I would like to be there, the next time.”
Will nods.
“I would, too.” He looks out the window and shoves his hands in his pockets. “When you, um…next time.”
Hannibal looks up at him, shocked and delighted and encouraging. He grins.
“And finally show you everything, Will?”
“Everything,” Will says, sliding the lid over the tiny box to hide what he’s done. Hannibal covers his hand with his own, a greater veil than Will could ever devise on his own.
“Tonight’s the night, Will.”
“Tonight’s the night,” Will breathes, holding onto the edge of the counter top as Hannibal kisses him.
Outside a dog is howling. The moon is full. The rain falls on the other side of the frosted glass, and Will kisses Hannibal back.
Tonight’s the night.
Tonight’s the night.