Ben poco ama colui che ancora può esprimere, a parole, quanto ami

Part 5

Will takes a quick shower, to shed the day's fatigue and leftover grime. He doesn't linger much under the soothing spray, too eager to live the aftermath with Hannibal. He exits the shower hastily, drying off and finding new clothes in the cupboard. 

He meets his reflection in the mirror after brushing his teeth and suddenly the Wendigo is staring back at him with his expressive black pits full of Will's own desire. He can see his own reflection morphing into his image. This, this is what he has become. He adapted and evolved into self-acceptance, and he has never felt more at peace with himself. He smiles at their reflection with familiar fondness.

When he gets upstairs, Hannibal has already gone to bed and is attempting to get him to believe he's already fast asleep.  Will smiles softly and gets in bed behind him, holding him close to his chest. 

The next morning, Will's statement about dogs turns out to be a self-fulfilling prophecy. They are in the middle of making breakfast when he hears a soft and pained yapping from outside. 

Will responds to it immediately, distant memories of Buster's cries flooding his mind, and he's out the door in a flash. He looks around their garden almost frantically, trying to locate that pitiful sound. 

"Will?," Hannibal calls for him from their patio. 

He pays him no mind as he spots a small white blur in a secluded corner, right next to the gazebo. He approaches the little puppy slowly, talking softly. He crouches in front of it and gingerly offers his finger for it to smell. The pup is hesitant at first, scared but not aggressive, it looks more sad than anything else. Its cold snout touches the tip of his finger, sniffing carefully, its tongue peeks out to brush his skin and the change is immediate. The dog starts wagging its tail and immediately tries to climb in his lap. He is pleased to notice the poor thing doesn't seem to be injured or in pain, just a tad bit afraid.

Will hadn't realise how much he missed the feel of a living little creature in his arms until that moment. 

He smiles, hugging the puppy close but still careful not to startle and jostle it. Hannibal is still watching him from the deck, eyes gone tender with wonder. 

"Will," Hannibal starts, surely to comment on Will's inexplicable pull to strays but the dog in his arms startles at the sound of his voice, wiggling about in his hold. 

Hannibal reacts quickly, helping will keeping the little thing steady before it can fall, the pup now cradled between them. It starts sniffing Hannibal's arm, timidly poking him with its tongue. Will sees Hannibal sweeping his gaze from Will to the puppy in their arms, still licking  Hannibal's skin, wagging its tail.

"Looks like it likes you," Will smiles, leaving the puppy fully in Hannibal's embrace, "let's get inside, Han."

Once in their home, Will steers them to the closest bathroom. He fills the sink with warm water, getting some towels and telling Hannibal to gently dip their pup in the water. The little thing is trembling slightly, disoriented and overwhelmed, it tries to move its little paws to swim even though it's still in the safety of Hannibal's grip. 

After they give the poor thing a bath, which turns out to be a little ordeal in and of itself, they cocoon it a warm blanket. Hannibal busies himself with making it a highly pretentious meal and Will sits on the sofa with the little bundle in his arms, searching for nearby vets on his phone.

The next two weeks are quiet ones. Cephi - that's the name they settle for, after a much heated debate - settles at the villa just fine. She becomes queen of the house in a blink and even Hannibal, who eyes her sort of warily from time to time, dotes on her incessantly. Her meals are ones you could find in Michelin Star restaurants.

She's charming and unruly, soft as a cloud and quiet talkative. Her acute yaps often interrupting Will and Hannibal's conversations, as if she absolutely had to make her opinion on the matter known. Hannibal is often baffled by this but he can see him smile behind his coffee mugs or a yawn. Sometimes, Will finds him talking back to her, when he thinks it's just them.

Will's plan officially starts with an earring -  he likes to fool himself into thinking of this as the turning point. The thing is anchor shaped, silver, antique and loudly obnoxious. Of course, on a whim, he buys it. Will doesn't know what draws him to it, doesn't know why out of all the other unquestionably tastier knick-knacks he purchases this appalling thing. He keeps wondering on the way back home, back to his partner in crime.

Hannibal has adopted a much scruffier look while on the run, with an outgrown beard and long hair and a pierced lobe, a carefully constructed persona. The man is no longer as flamboyant with his apparel as he used to be once upon a time in Baltimore, seemingly favouring comfort over fashion. In hindsight, maybe that's why he decides to buy the ugly thing and gift it to him, mockery and denial.

When he presents the gift, he's ready to be the one on the receiving end of The Glare Cephi usually gets when a new teeth mark appears on the furniture. What he gets instead is surprise, a soft smile and a murmured thank you, none of the scorn he expected. Will stares and stares, dumbfounded, at the empty spot Hannibal left right in front of him for what feels like eternity.

Hours later, when Will is nursing a tumbler of scotch as Hannibal sets to prepare dinner he almost chokes on his drink when he catches sight of a silver anchor on the man's ear. He hides a surprised chuckle behind his glass as warmth spreads in his chest. 

The first step went rather well. On to the next.