I'll Show You Your Existance

7

Will groans, stretching out his arms as he wakes up. As he slowly regains consciousness, he becomes aware that he’s still laying on the living room couch. The sun is up, streaming through the windows and signaling that it’s afternoon. He’s still fully dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, but someone, Hannibal, had tucked a blanket in over him, and slid a pillow under his head. Hannibal, where is Hannibal? The man is missing from where Will last remembers him, their bodies pressed together, laying on the couch. Hannibal had obviously gotten up at some point, making sure Will was comfortable before leaving. I’m surprised I didn’t wake up, Will thinks. I guess I was really tired from all of last night's events.

Last night. Will’s memories of the night before come flooding back, and he can’t help the burning heat that floods his face. They had kissed, or more like made out, he corrects himself. He slips one hand under his shirt, pressing his fingers against the scar there. He doesn’t remember how he got it, but from the way Hannibal had possessively run his hands across it, he’s guessing that the other man had a hand in making it. Will yawns, and brings both of his hands up to run his eyes. He feels anxiety creep up as he sits up and stretches his limbs. His shoulder pops and he groans, rubbing the tight muscles as he gets up and makes his way into the kitchen.

Hannibal is sitting at the kitchen table, sipping a cup of coffee as he reads. Will does a double take as he’s looking at the other man, Hannibal’s wearing reading glasses. They are classy, plain frames, but they suit the man's aristocratic face, making him appear more mature, older. He still looks fairly haggard, but his posture is straighter. Hannibal looks up from his book, and Will ducks his head, embarrassed to be caught staring.  “Good afternoon, Will.” Will clears his throat, and as he looks back at the man he can just barely make out a faint smirk pulling at his lips. “Uh, hey.” He scratches the back of his neck awkwardly. Hannibal speaks again, “There is lunch in the fridge for you, just put it in the oven to warm up.”

Will takes that as his cue to make his way into the kitchen, opening the fridge and taking out the covered plate. “Thanks, I appreciate it.” “It is no problem,” is Hannibal's reply. “Does it have to be in the oven, or will the microwave work?” Will says it with a teasing tone of voice, and he turns to see a faint grimace cross Hannibal’s face. “I must insist on using the oven, although I can’t stop you from doing what you please.” “I’m kidding, Hannibal,” Will assures him, as he turns the oven on to warm up. “I knew that.” “Uh huh, sure.” Hannibal glares back at Will, before turning back to his book and coffee. They share a comfortable silence as Will warms his food, before taking his plate and sitting across from Hannibal. The food is amazing, as always, and Will eats quickly. “It's great, thank you.” “I would’ve liked to give it to you fresh, but I did not want to wake you. You needed sleep.” “Yeah,” Will grimaces, rubbing his shoulder again as he feels the muscles pinch. “I was more tired than I thought.” Hannibal closes his book, making note of the page number and then taking off his glasses. He watches Will massage the muscle, “You are lucky to have the movement you do in that shoulder, I am glad it has healed well enough, though I’m surprised it doesn’t affect you more.” “Yeah?” Will replies. “I mean obviously it got hurt in the fight we had, but I’m guessing I had some other injuries too?”

Hannibal nods as he stands up, walking up behind Will and removing his hand from his shoulder. He replaces it with his own, and starts to massage the tight muscles. Will hisses, air whistling between his teeth as he takes a sharp breath from the initial pain. “Try to relax,” Hannibal advises, before he continues the previous topic. “You mentioned that you had been stabbed when you were working in law enforcement in your earlier years, and you were shot twice in the same shoulder.” He pauses. “It really is miraculous you have as much use as you do. I highly doubt you were consistent with any kind of physical therapy.”