AN-Beethoven's Piano Sonata No. 14 is more popularly known as The Moonlight Sonata. I picked this for the title of the story cause I think the music fits the mood of it.I personally think that Hannibal's sense of humor gets overlooked or overshadowed more often than not by everything else. I think Will would be able to appreciate it or at the very least understand it after taking a walk in Hannibals' skin. Anyway, that is just my perception.NO BETA. READ AT OWN RISK.
Will had always found it to be too cold and sterile for his liking. In his vivid mind's eye, it didn't just illuminate. To Will, the icy silvery light bleached the color out of life about as effectively as demise, making the slumbering world appear almost clinical in nature, even morbidly surreal in its new flatness. Flesh abandoned its plush nature, turning to polished stone and blood lost its lush viscosity, becoming pools of shining mirrors. There was an almost sterility to this other place of stark night, fake marble, and shaded sterling, or at least that was what Will used to think.
Hannibal washed in moonlight was anything but lifeless, looking more deadly than dead. It was near profane how sharply his features stood out in his repose, his stillness almost like that of a predator at rest, potential energy ready to transit to kinetic at the slightest falter in attention or show of weakness from his intended prey.
It was late or early depending on who was waking, the moon intruding upon them, filtering its essence in through the gracefully arched bedroom windows, the heavy drapes of rich clothe framing them unable to serve their purpose having been forgotten in haste and later, exhaustion. Things as mundane as curtains and square windows were for other people. Will had come to except a certain high level of sophistication from Hannibal in every aspect of his life. His bedroom had not disappointed and was near hedonistic in its amount of luxury, not that Will was complaining about any of it. Nothing short of serial killer and Jack yelling in his ear could entice the empath out of what could be laughingly called a bed by the short sighted in the morning. Will preferred to think of it as some sort of miracle made of clouds, swan's down, and memory foam, one that cushioned and enveloped his body, refusing to let it go or that could just be the company that he was keeping now.
Will slept, had been sleeping and wasn't that a small miracle for him, beneath Hannibal, the larger man bodily laying on top of him, their legs entangled. His sides were bound by tightly wrapped arms which were as effective but far more comfortable than a straight jacket, their heads sharing the same pillow nearly nose to nose to do so. Others would have found it uncomfortable and confining, but Will thought it grounded him. At the very least, the arrangement kept him from sleepwalking. Before their unconventional relationship, Will would have never been able to guess that Hannibal was a cuddler, though that term was far too light and cute to describe the serious doctor. Octopus or possessive bastard would be far more accurate actually. Hannibal was as in control in his sleep as he was waking. Trips to the bathroom were a test of whispered negotiations, contortion, and self preservation of dignity.
Awake, or more accurately awoken by his dreams turned nightmares prodding him back into consciousness, Will opened his eyes. He saw his rare friend, his beloved in repose, Hannibal's face carved out by stillness and light. In sleep, he made Will think of wolves and ravens and other predators that stole their secrets and power from the blood, carrion, and the occasional eyeball.
And yet, Will remained unfazed by the thought of it in reference to his lover. Struck with the sudden urge to touch simply because he could now, he was allowed to by himself and his other, Will raised a sleep heavy hand to trace his fingers along a cool cheek, clumsily following the ridge of the bone there. Hannibal's eyes flew open in response, waking instantly from the barest of touches, his hand catching Will's own in a tight grip.
Startled by the quick reflexes, too shocked by it to feel any real hurt at the denial, Will did not have time to shift his gaze elsewhere, looking straight into Hannibal's eyes. It was something he still avoided doing, despite the recent deepening in their relationship. Everyone deserved to keep their own secret. The rights to such things should be earned in Will's opinion but with his gifts, he rarely got the chance or gave people the choice to do so. Like an unwilling thief in the night, his mind would climb through those dual portals and seek out the source of the shadows that lurked in the corners of everyone's eyes.
Most would consider Hannibal's eyes brown but upon close examination, in actuality they were a rich maroon. Set ablaze with moonlight, the chocolate notes of earth in them were leached out so that the doctor's eyes glittered like fine rubies, the points of red in them stark as blood spray. They watched Will intently as the tumblers of the empath's mind slipped into place, Will entering Hannibal's mind through the windows of his soul, having finally been given the keys to it.
The truth, all of them, was there and it was beautiful despite its horrific nature, disarming in its complexity and grace while still tinged with the certainty of fate. Will breathed out, his eyes going wide with the new vicious knowledge that seeped into his head about the man and now the monster he knew who shared his bed.
Stealing, always and ever stealing, Hannibal breathed in Will's sweet heat scented air as the two bodies tensed against each other, for fight or flight was anyone's guess at the moment. They had come to a point where Hannibal had let himself accept that Will would never know his true self and he had come to terms with that until a better time presented itself to him. Whether it had been wishful thinking on his part or not, Hannibal had already gotten more than he ever would have expected. He had been willing to leave some topics untouched to keep it so but fate, it seemed, had finally forced his hand in the matter.
The next move would set new ending or beginnings in motion between them, the outcome balanced on the edge of a blade on what was said or done next. If he had to, Hannibal knew he would kill Will, though it would pain him greatly to do so. Ignorance was blissfully full of life and Will had just forfeited his own for the price of the ultimate answer. Tightening his hold on his lover, Hannibal reasoned with himself that in the end he would be doing Will a favor. The empath would more than likely never be able to survive the truth, would buckle and break under its bloody weight. It was a heavy burden to carry, especially to those who were not used to it.
"I guess from now on, I'll have to ask who we are eating instead of what.", Will said evenly as he continued to study the killer, never breaking eye contact once while ignoring the pain of blunt fingertips digging into his flesh. It seemed as if Will was seeing him for the first time, and Hannibal supposed that he was in many ways.
Grasping what had been said, Hannibal breathed out a huff of air from his surprise as Will breathed in. He could feel the body beneath him relaxing, submitting to him, tense muscles falling back into a state of rest. The next move was obviously Hannibal's, Will looking back at him with a steadfast gaze, trust etched into every nuance of his body. He laid there in Hannibal's arms, letting the doctor's weight press his own down into the soft bed, trapping him there.
Wetting his lips, Hannibal's agile mind dissect the empath's words, noting their tenses and all the implications that went with them. Will wanted a future with him. He wanted to take meals with him. Meals that he knew were not lamb, or pork, or whatever else Hannibal passed off as acceptable fare.
That was unexpected.
That was new.
Not trusting himself to speak, at least not just yet and not wanting to say anything ruining or inelegant, Hannibal simply nodded back, leaning in to touch his cool forehead to Will's feverishly warm own. He breathed in deeply, only scenting sincerity, lightly sweet and floral though Hannibal could not place the bloom, the name of it escaping him at the moment. Relaxing his grip on Will, one that he was sure would leave bruises behind come morning, Hannibal started to gently stroke his lover's sides, letting his fingers slip across soft, salty skin, only slightly moistened with sweat.
"I have to ask….", Will paused, as if searching for the right words, like there was a courteous way to voice the question that was sitting on the empath's mind , "...how are you choosing them?".
Considering his own words well, Hannibal saw no reason not to be honest with Will. If they were going to be truly together, there should be no secrets between them. "I eat the rude.", Hannibal answered, keeping it simple and direct. Will stared back at him almost incredulously. Hannibal found himself liking this new eye contact between them. Will's eyes were a strange shade of blue, tinted with spikes of light and dark gray. They reminded Hannibal of a storm he had once seen in his youth, a squall that had brewed over cold open water of the Baltic Sea, focused yet powerful in its raw nature. They were eyes that had seen too much in their time and were permanently scarred from the visions that refused to leave their sight.
To his regrets, Will closed his beautifully complex eyes and shuddered. Disappointment filled Hannibal at the tremble in his lover's spirit and flesh, the emotion feeling sharper than it should have as he felt Will give in, the empath's shoulders beginning to shake.
Just as he began to contemplate the quickest way of dispatching Will before he shattered completely in front of him, Hannibal realized something as Will started to take in deep breathes to renew and even strengthen his shuddering.
Will was laughing.
Deep, powerful laughs that quaked his entire body from fine curls atop his head to tip of toe. Hannibal would have felt insulted if it wasn't so striking to behold. The doctor thanked himself for his restraint and his keen powers of observation when he grasped that Will was not hysterical or even laughing at him. He was flat-out, genuinely amused. Hannibal had just never heard Will emit such a joyous sound before. He truly doubted that many had actually.
"Will?", Hannibal tested, not wanted the other man's revelry to come to an end but his own curiosity on the matter was beginning to beg some sort of answer for the reaction. "William? Speak with me. What is going on in that head of yours?".
"I'm sorry…..I'm sorry. It's just….", Will gasped, trying to regain some sort of control over himself. "I…I just finally get the joke. Jokes. All of them…..".
A smile threatened to play across Hannibal's still features. He tapped down the urge, not willing himself to completely fall under the enticing allure of hope just yet. This was all turning out so well, too good to be really true. Hannibal had never dared to hope, much less dream about this kind of acceptance, if that was what Will was offering. Hannibal found such carefree and freely given submission to be a most unusual reaction in his presence, especially now that the truth of the matter was known.
Will started to talk again though before Hannibal could comment. "I believe the most undervalued trait about you is your sense of humor and comedic timing.".
"Perhaps.", Hannibal said carefully, "Though most would not appreciate it I would think.". He watched as Will dissolved into giggles again. It should have made the man look crazy, not so endearing. Hannibal could hardly hold it against him though, not when Will looked so pleased with himself, finally being in on the punch line. Clinging stress that had been with him since the beginning when Jack pulled him out from the relative safety of his classroom left Will's face, making his features softer and far more relaxed than Hannibal had ever seen it. In the doctor's opinion, Will's new visage was classically handsome, reminiscent of Botticelli's or even Raphael's angels, all rounded cheek, soft curl, and pouting lip. If it could be called a weakness, Hannibal had always had a deep appreciation for the finer things in life, living art being no exception.
While he was being admired and wondered about, Will's head tilted to the side, his eyes staring blankly as he watched murder after murder replay itself out behind them. Instead of recoiling from it though, Will relived it all without flinching, existing within them armed with a new understanding. It was fascinating for Hannibal to watch Will wear his skin, walking the paths of his mind with the last puzzle piece firmly in place. It was giving Will a sense of long missed calm as his addled mind finally righted itself from its descent.
It made Will shine from the inside out, his whole being seemed aglow with the knowledge he had been so sorely seeking, driving himself into madness for. Hannibal could not resist the urge to touch such radiance, his hands reaching out to cup the sides of Will's face, stilling his humor though the empath kept a slight smile on his face. "Are you truly fine with this?", Hannibal had to ask before he could continue forward. What he wanted was so close, just within his reach, he could not bear to part with it now or have it turn on him. He couldn't afford to have Will break on him.
It was a fragile moment of strained quiet before Will answered. "Yes.", he said softly, his smile slight but not as anxious as Hannibal thought it would be.
"Why? I think that your moral compass would be quite overwrought by now.", Hannibal pressed, because he had to, he needed to push. This perfection was too tantalizing not to test its borders.
"I am….selfish.", Will said simply, his tone sheepish as he tried to look away. "So very selfish."
"Clarify your meaning for me please. Only the ignorant few would ever use that word to describe you.", Hannibal's brow furrowed, holding his lover in place. Will's eyes danced and darted about before settling reluctantly back on Hannibal's own.
Within the realm of elements, Hannibal had always equated himself to water. He was fluid, adaptable, and deadly when it was least expected. Will was a being of air though, his nature agile and pure yet vicious with the right change in wind. In Hannibal's mind, the combination of the two elements was the recipe for the perfect storm.
"If they don't kill you or you somehow manage to survive capture, you will be put in a room, in a place far away from everything and everyone. Far away from me. Whatever outcome, I will soon follow you either way, into casket or padded corner. It will not end well for us.", Will's words rambled on over each other, picking up speed as he continued, weary but determined to finish his thought. "So yes, I am selfish. I want silk sheets and fine meals. If they have to come from shrouds and corpses, then so be it. It is a tragedy though that no one can appreciate your sense of humor."
"You do though.", Hannibal grinned, feeling pleased and feeling oddly sated.
"Yes, but I would like to point out that puns are the lowest form of humor. You really need to stop making them at dinner.", Will smiled back, the expression a touch shy and hesitant. Hannibal found it charming that Will could still feel such things now between them, his thumbs rubbing circles into the empath's cheeks, Will's usually feverish skin cool for once. As insanity left him, so did his sickness, his brain no longer cooking itself for answers.
"I am tired of being alone and lonely.", Will sighed, leaning into the touch, going slack as he practically fell forward, Hannibal taking his body's weight easily as Will pressed up against him. "Whatever this is, what we have between us, let us be monsters together. This is my design.".
In answer to the question left unsaid, Hannibal pushed Will back far enough from him, watching the empath as he caught Will's lips, kissing him hard, deliberately so, biting into his bottom lip with sharp teeth to split it apart like ripe fruit. Hannibal's mouth was filled with the taste he had longed for since their meeting as the killer took his fill, swiping his tongue thickly over the cut. Will let him, allowed Hannibal to paint his lips with his own blood with the tip of his tongue.
Drawing back enough to observe his handiwork, Hannibal was deeply pleased. Will was glorious to behold, his lips wet and sticky with crimson, his mouth hanging open, hungry for more. He was pliable flesh in Hannibal's hands, so trusting, his eyes shining with something more than just lust. Love was even too trite a word for it as well.
It was understanding at the most base level, Will choosing to stay in Hannibal's mind, to see the world through his eyes.
Devotion. It was quiet commitment, a marriage of minds, and a meeting of equals.
Hannibal worshipped Will back with all that he was.