[ hannibal oneshots ]

[ after the fall ]

Set after the final episode! Perhaps a fix-it fic?
[ INCLUDES ]
- angst and fluff
- hannibal's perspective
- injuries
- hannibal cries
- mentions of medical equipment
- apologies
- 'I love you's
- cuddling
- first kiss
- mentions of the memory palace
——————————

The last thing Hannibal can remember is the smell of salty, damp air and Will. Then everything goes numb.

When he's awake, he thinks he's dead. From that height, it would be unlikely to survive, but he can feel his heart beating inside of his chest and the sensation of sweat upon his skin.

He opens his eyes slowly, cautiously, as though he doesn't believe he deserved to survive at all, and doubts anyone or anything would want him to, either.

But when his eyes open, he sees Will. He can feel the warmth of his body beside him, his hands pressed firmly against Hannibal's abdomen through a damp cloth.

Just seeing him there, unsure of what he's doing or why he decided to help Hannibal at all, the corners of his eyes begin to blur.

He lifts an arm, uncertain and shaking from lack of use, and outstretches it towards the younger man.

Will just stares for a moment, so many emotions rushing through him he forgets to breathe.

It only takes him a few seconds to take Hannibal's waiting hand into his own, pressing it to his chest in disbelief as he kneels onto the floor.

Hannibal is in bed, familiar medical equipment around him, an IV drip in his left arm, bruises in his skin blossoming to life at his consciousness.

"I'm sorry," Will's head is tilted to the floor, voice wavering and soft, and Hannibal is too weak to do anything other than cry.

He hasn't cried in front of anyone in so many years, hasn't since his early twenties, nothing phasing him past that point enough to show weakness in front of someone else.

But he can feel the tears dripping down the sides of his face and wetting his usually pristine hair, and it feels wonderful.

"What for?" He eventually finds his voice again, Will's beautifully messy curls slowly moving until they're face to face again.

Will doesn't have an answer for that. His face spells a look of shame that Hannibal doesn't feel is deserved.

"I thought I lost you," He can't stop the words from leaving his mouth, impulsive and fragile as he kisses Hannibal's knuckles, refusing to look up again.

"And I, you," He replies easily, body heavy against the mattress below him, exhausted from simply speaking and the movement of his arm.

Will slowly looks up at him again, giving him a small, sad smile. Relieved they're both ok, but guilt and anger at himself for doing this to them clouding his mind.

Hannibals hand shakily lifts from Will's mouth to his cheek, cupping the side of his face in a familiar way that makes Will's anxiety spike.

Though, what could Hannibal possibly do in the state he's in? He looks drained, hand shaking against Will's jaw in an effort to be affectionate, to show him its ok.

Will's head tips into the hand, sighing at the touch, longing for what could've been a much easier and healthier relationship between the two, but their dancing around each other had become an awful habit.

"We- we're at your cabin. I had to call some doctor to come and help you, I didn't know what to do,"

"I didn't recognise..." He forgets to finish his sentence, tired and too busy admiring the familiar setting.

By the time they meet eyes again, Will looks so serene in his expression, Hannibal feels the urge to cry again, but he ignores it. He'd already shed a few tears, he needn't shed more and make Will worry.

Instead, he feels compelled to do something else entirely. His mouth opens and closes once, twice before he feels brave enough to speak again.

"I love you," He wishes he'd said it sooner, wishes he'd just invited Will to dinner the first few times they'd met instead of being curious- instead of hurting the only person who's ever understood him.

Will's eyes widen and he glances at the wooden floorboards yet again, eyeing his ringless hands and debating whether or not he'll even respond.

"Do you?" He looks up and he doesn't have to elaborate on a single word. His face speaks of reluctance and desperation, hopefulness and fear, and Hannibal knows he's responsible for each and every emotion that washes over him.

"Since the day you sat in my office. I've never felt so much for anyone after..." He doesn't say her name, but they know.

The hole in his heart that Mischa left could never be filled, the emptiness angry and weeping despite its age. No, Will fills up a completely new space in Hannibal's world, in his life, a space still gnarly and wounded, but beautiful and full of memories.

"I don't know if I can wear my person suit again after this," Hannibal smiles honestly, mourning and content.

Will cautiously leans over Hannibal, placing his hand gently on the bed as it had been, and presses their foreheads together carefully.

"I love you, too," His voice is broken and tender, and Hannibal isn't sure what to do other than kiss him, so he does.

It's messy and ugly and tired, but it's beautiful and Hannibal paints the moment in his memory palace, hanging it up proudly in his most precious room.

They pull away and Will crawls into bed with him, hands reaching and clawing and searching for something they seem to find as they reach Hannibal's back, pressing against him in a pleasant embrace.

He'd wince at the discomfort in his healing body if he were any less of a gentleman, but he's too happy right where he is to ruin the moment.

Hannibal notices, bleary eyed and half asleep, that Will's shoes are snug on his feet, just off the mattress.

"Take off your shoes," He tells him, unimpressed by the dirt staining the soles of them as he continues to stare.

Will laughs against his chest, into his skin and reaching what could be Hannibal's soul, and kicks off his shoes lazily before getting comfortable yet again.

His body feels like it's on fire from the contact, but it burns just right. He feels so safe and content in his lover's arms that he closes his eyes and drifts off to sleep.