But it gets even better because he was with his “brother”. (x)
And all I can imagine is Hannibal and Will finally arriving home after a long and exhausting night of police questioning. They both lie down on bed, Hannibal on his back and Will with his face pressed against a pillow, and spend a few minutes in silences, both suddenly too sober for the conversation that was about to follow.
“Really? Your brother?” Will eventually asks, rolling on his side to face Hannibal.
“I would have given away too much information by telling them the truth.”
“You told them your real name.”
“And luckily for us, they didn’t believe me.”
“Only because you also told them you were 27.”
Hannibal suddenly opens his eyes and lifts himself on an elbow.
“I do not appreciate your insinuation, Will.”
“And because you ripped you shirt off in the middle of the street.”
He sighs and closes his eyes again, falling onto the mattress. “A mere slip fueled by the alcohol. Nothing more than a faux pas.”
“And you started yelling that you’d eat all rude people.” At this point Will begins to chuckle. “All of them,” he repeats in a deep voice, trying to imitate Hannibal, much to the other’s dismay.
“And my personal favorite – when you saw that fire hydrant and asked me what dog breed that was.” He slides both hands over his face slowly and the soft laughter becomes a long yawn.
“That’s enough, Will. Although heavily intoxicated, I still remember it all too clearly.”
They both turn their heads and are staring into each other’s foggy eyes now.
“So you remember why we got drunk too.”
“Yes,” Hannibal admits and pauses for a second, not because he can’t remember it as well as he said, but because he isn’t entirely sure how to put it in words without making Will feel uncomfortable. “We were celebrating… six months on the run.”
“Six months together,” Will corrects him, and a tired and affectionate and relieved smile spreads on Hannibal’s face.
He cups the side of Will’s face into his hand, and tenderly rubs his thumb over the place where his scar is supposed to be, now covered by a dark – and surprisingly appealing – beard. Will mimics his gesture and they both shift in bed so they’re slightly closer to each other.
“And please stop telling people I’m your brother. Police or otherwise.”
AAAAND this took a weird turn?? I know 6 months is inaccurate, but we’ll ignore that, yes? They’re gonna celebrate it anyway, those stupid dorks in love. So anyway, I’m totally down with using Stephen McLaughlin.