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"Tell me a story, please?" Will requested Hannibal one night in their Cuban bedroom.
Hannibal looked up and raised his eyebrows. "Of course, my Will. What kind of story?" he asked.
Will was lying on the bed, half of his back exposed so Hannibal could see his tan skin. "I don't know," Will replied thoughtfully, looking at the ceiling. "Something from your childhood."
Hannibal had been silent since he'd sat down next to Will on the bed after they got home from an impromptu dinner with their new friends, all five of whom were also former doctors. He was quiet for a long moment before finally speaking.
"I remember my sister Mischa drawing dancing bears," Hannibal said. Will turned his head toward him as he spoke and watched as he began to speak. "And I... remember her wearing homemade faerie wings our mother made. Mother had also painted them a dazzling silvery light-blue."
Will smiled fondly. It sounded beautiful coming out of Hannibal's mouth. "And our parents would sing a lullaby for us as they tucked us into bed," Hannibal continued, continuing his narration. "It was a lovely song..."
When he trailed off, he fell silent, seeming lost in thought, a faraway look in his eyes. Will felt something twist inside him but pushed it away. He couldn't focus on anything besides how Hannibal's voice made him feel like he was sitting in sunshine. Will shifted and sat up slightly, turning to face Hannibal.
He reached over and squeezed Hannibal's knee, hoping he wasn't interrupting something important. Instead, Hannibal seemed to realize Will was still awake. A smile spread across his face.
"I miss those days," he admitted quietly, looking at Will. "I remember someone holding me safe and warm. It must have been my mother. Or perhaps my father. I remember the horses we had, prancing through a silver storm. Mother, Father, Mischa, our uncle Robertus, the Lady Murasaki; their figures dancing across my memory, far away. Long ago, glowing dim as an ember. Things my heart used to know. Things it yearns to remember. And a song someone sings. Once upon a December."
Hannibal's eyes were closed, but when he opened them, he was looking directly into Will's. Their faces were inches apart now. "I wish you were there to share those memories with me."
Hannibal's lips curved gently upward into a slight smirk. He reached up and pressed his fingers against Will's cheek. Then he leaned forward ever so slowly and kissed Will, tenderly pressing a soft kiss against Will's lips.
As soon as Hannibal pulled away, Will let go of his knee, which caused Hannibal to sit up suddenly. Will laughed lightly and moved closer, taking the opportunity to wrap both his arms around Hannibal. He hugged him close, pressing another light kiss against his cheek.
Hannibal rested his head on Will's shoulder, sighing softly. "It still hurts to remember," he whispered. "But with you, my dear Will, these memories hurt less, the more I share them with you."
"We'll always have this time together, Hannibal, no matter what happens," Will told him gently. They stayed embraced like that for several minutes until Hannibal released Will. Then they lay down again, cuddled closely together, facing each other. Will ran his hand along Hannibal's hairline before resting it on the back of Hannibal's neck. He brushed his fingers gently along Hannibal's jaw, then settled them on his shoulders.
They laid like that for a few moments before Hannibal broke the silence. "I am glad you're here with me," he whispered, placing a soft kiss onto Will's shoulder. "I still can't believe it. You're here with me. Finally, you have chosen to be yourself and to be with me."
"That's right. I'm choosing you. You are my everything," Will said. His hand found its way under Hannibal's shirt to rest just above the small of his back. The sensation of his skin against the palm of Will's hand sent shivers down Will's spine. His breath caught in his throat. He didn't dare move his hand from underneath Hannibal's shirt. He could hardly bear to breathe at the same time.
Hannibal turned his head and kissed Will once, briefly. When he pulled back, he stared into Will's eyes, eyes filled with emotion. Will gazed back at him, feeling tears stinging his own. This is it. It's real now. Hannibal was mine. He was always going to be mine. Will wanted to cry, or yell, or do something, anything other than just lie there, breathing in the scent of Hannibal's lavender body wash and listening to the sound of his beating heart, trying not to think about what would happen if he did something wrong.
"You are my everything too," Hannibal whispered. He placed a gentle kiss on Will's forehead. "My Will."
Will closed his eyes and tried to calm himself. He knew he should say something, but he couldn't find the words. He was afraid to ruin the moment by saying something stupid. So instead, he focused on the warmth of Hannibal's body against his. On the steady rhythm of Hannibal's heartbeat, slow and regular. On the smell of his skin, a mixture of cinnamon and honey. He could hear Hannibal humming softly beside him, the song playing somewhere deep inside his mind.
When the song faded out, Hannibal sighed happily and nuzzled into Will. "It sounds wonderful, doesn't it, William? The two of us, together. Forever."
Will nodded and smiled at Hannibal. "Yeah," he agreed. He couldn't bring himself to open his eyes again to look at him; he didn't want this moment to end yet. Instead, he simply held onto Hannibal, allowing himself to feel safe and protected and loved and completely, utterly content.
"Forever."