Chapter Text
Will was eyeing a nicely shaped jicama when he heard it. Not the jicama, no, those were silent.
The air was muggy and the sun shone down with a blistering heat, though under the awning of this vegetable stand, it was cooler. Voices blended together in the background, further up the market where it was busier. Here, they were softer, competing with other natural sounds. Birds chirruped off in the distance, and the steady buzz of insects created a soft ambiance that had lulled Will into a complacent daze. He'd been having trouble choosing from the large wooden box of jicama, completely unfamiliar with the food. Not that he wasn't interested in trying it. In fact, he was sure it would be delicious. But in an instant, a sound cut through all of the background din, and a chill raced down Will's spine.
A gasp.
Quick, shocked, and right at his side.
Will was moving before he decided, eyes automatically scanning this shaded corner of the sprawling open-air market he was in, seeing no one paying him any attention, except…
A younger man, a few feet beside him, perusing the same crate of jicama, his face ashen, his lips parted in an O of surprise. Unmistakable recognition in dark brown eyes.
Will's arm shot up, and he struck the man's adam's apple with the flat of his palm, once, efficiently silencing any shouts that would alert the nearest people what had happened.
The man wheezed, hands flying up to grasp helplessly at his throat, eyes widening with terror and tears. Will moved quickly, sidestepping to the man, throwing an arm around the other's waist, yanking up the man's tense, shaking arm and draping it over his neck. He jerked the man close to him, hoping it looked like he was helping a drunk friend walk and nothing more, then all but dragged him further into the shade, down the street a bit, then into the nearest alley. The man didn't struggle much, still in shock and having trouble getting a full lungful of oxygen past his now-swollen and painful trachea. Hundreds of people milled about, but none glanced his way, thankfully, and only when they'd gone about 20 feet into the alley, did Will feel the man actually start to struggle, fear and adrenaline finally kicking in.
But Will was calm. Not even sweating, though the day boiled. He twisted the man, pulling him back against his chest, arms coming up and locking around that damaged neck, pulling tight.
Legs kicked desperately at Will's feet, hands and nails dug viciously into his forearms, gouging welts along bare tanned skin. Will held fast, all surrounding noise blunted around him.
Eventually, in what must have only been a cluster of seconds, the man began to slump, wheezed gasps fading to nothing. Will held on several seconds after the man went limp, then another few seconds out of pure rage.
He let the man fall soundlessly to the ground, and knelt to feel for a pulse. There was one, though faint. Will propped him up against the wall of the alley, making it look like just another drunken snooze, then he stood, fixed his clothing, and stepped back out into the market.
Someone nearby called out something, foreign words useless to Will, and maybe innocent enough, but Will quickened his pace.
Scanning the crowd, he caught sight of shining salt-and-pepper hair, shot through with gold streaks, mussed and pushed back loosely, held by expensive black sunglasses. Will tried not to shove people aside in his haste to reach him, his hand reaching out to softly touch at a turned shoulder.
“Claude.” He whispered, catching Hannibal's attention easily despite the softness of his voice.
Hannibal glanced at him, immediately dropping to the bloodied welts on his arms. Pale eyebrows rose soundlessly.
“We need to leave.” Will muttered, unable to look anywhere but at the way his fingers still lay gentle on Hannibal's arm.
That voice came again, a sharper tone, the words clearly understood by Hannibal, who glanced once back where Will had come from, then grasped Will's hand, quickly, pulling him in the other direction.
Will spared one more look back, over his shoulder, and there was a woman pointing at him, a local police officer at her side.
Ice dripped down Will's stomach, and he tightened his fingers around Hannibal's. “Run!” He hissed, pleased when Hannibal did not argue or pause, merely elongated his strides to keep up with Will as he actively shoved people out of his way, heading anywhere but where they were.
There was nowhere to go, no specific destination, no safehouse. Their boat was in the opposite direction, docked at an active and easily visible pier. They would not be able to get back there like this, with law enforcement following them. They had to hide somewhere, until dark maybe.
Will, panting from fear and adrenaline now, ducked into the next open alley, this one much busier than the previous one, and Hannibal only followed. They took another turn, another alley, and then another. On and on until Will's lungs burned, then, Hannibal's warm hand tugged at his, and Will slowed his frantic steps, glancing back as he came to a stop.
Hannibal was only slightly out of breath, though Will's breathing stuttered and heaved.
“We have not passed anyone for quite some time. I think we're safe to pause, for the moment.”
Will sagged against an old stone wall, swallowing huge mouthfuls of air, wiping up across his brow. Hannibal only watched him silently, and Will couldn't look at him.
“Why did we need to run, Will?”
Will jerked at the soft way Hannibal said his name, face heating slightly as he realized what he'd just done. “We...” No, that wasn't right. “I...Somebody recognized me.” But even as he said it, he was wondering. Had he really seen recognition in that man's eyes? Or had he just let his imagination get the better of him?
Hannibal's head tilted almost imperceptibly. “You are certain of this?”
Will let out an explosive breath. “No!” He pushed off of the wall, pacing. “I don't know, I think so, but-”
“What happened?”
“I told you!” He snapped, stopping to shoot a glare at Hannibal. “This guy recognized me-”
“No, Will.” Hannibal hissed, advancing on Will, making him step back, Hannibal's arms coming up to cage him in, hands flattening along the wall by Will's shoulders. “What did you do?”
Will shrunk back, caught in Hannibal's eyes. “...I punched him in the throat and dragged him into an alley.”
Hannibal's eyes slipped shut, something like a shiver passing through him. Will heard him sigh softly and he watched Hannibal's adam's apple bob in a noticeable swallow. Those eyes opened again, locking onto Will's. “Did you kill him?”
Will shook his head, looked away, feeling ashamed for unknown reasons. “No. I didn't, I...”
He had to fight his own swallow, something sour bubbling in his stomach. If Will had killed him, no one would be able to identify him. Even if that woman saw him leaving the alley, even if she'd seen him walk away from the body, she hadn't been close enough to see his face clearly. Hadn't known who he was. Probably. Wouldn't have been able to tell the police that Will Graham was in Mexico, was with another person, a man looking shockingly familiar. If he'd killed that man, he'd be safe. He wanted to be safe. Even on the run, as he and Hannibal slowly healed and sailed their way down the east coast, he felt safer than he had in his whole life. Alongside the devil, protected by a fallen angel.
But if Will had killed that man…
It would have been his first kill since Dolarhyde. And that man was different from Dolarhyde. Hadn't done anything to Will, had only seen his face, had only been betrayed by knowledge. But while Will could justify Dolarhyde's murder with ease, there would be no justification for murdering a stranger whose only crime was threatening Will's freedom from the law.
It would have been a crime of passion. Will shook from the realization that he wished he'd killed him. He was a criminal now, and the lines of acceptable actions blurred hazily in his head.
“Will.”
Hannibal's soft tone had Will looking up, nervous about what he'd find behind Hannibal's gaze. But he saw only acceptance. Forgiveness. Hannibal wasn't angry that Will hadn't killed to protect them. Maybe Will would one day. In fact, he knew he would. Knew he could.
His breath still came fast, and he took comfort in Hannibal's nearness. He was again hit by regret that he hadn't killed. What he and Hannibal had was precious. He needed to protect it, and he wanted to protect it. Whatever this was, he wanted it to stay safe. He took a breath.
“We need to find someplace to hide until dark, then we need to get away from here. There's enough food on the boat to last another week, as much as you complain about canned food. But you'll just have to deal with that because I'd rather live with your attitude than without.” His jaw clenched and he tried not to bare his teeth, “They won't take us.”
Hannibal's expression remained placid, a faint smile tilting up those lips, and he sighed again, one of his hands coming up to curve the warmth of his palm along Will's cheek, over the still-bright scar from Dolarhyde's knife.
“My darling boy.” Was all he said, sweet and immeasurably fond.
An ache bloomed in Will's chest, heat just starting to burn along his cheeks and ears, and he acted on impulse once more, clutching fistfuls of Hannibal's thin linen shirt, yanking him close and slotting his mouth gentle along the seam of Hannibal's lips, desperate to quench the constant yearning inside.
It should have surprised him more, how beautifully their lips fit together. But as he pressed closer, he only felt peace. Felt right.
He broke away slowly, opening eyes he didn't remember closing, and gauged Hannibal's reaction.
Hannibal looked stricken. His eyes held more shock than Will had ever seen, his mouth open much like that man by the jicamas had been. Will watched, fascinated, as several conflicting emotions flickered across Hannibal's face. The surprise faded into a soft frown, Hannibal's tongue coming out to taste along his bottom lip, then drag back in like a lion with a fresh kill. His eyes fluttered shut. Will watched him swallow.
It made him want to kiss Hannibal again, and he tightened his fingers, still in Hannibal's shirt, arms tensing, his own tongue flicking out to taste Hannibal's flavor as well.
Hannibal's eyes shot open, layered with tears. They locked on to Will's tongue, still questing along his lips.
The moment hung between them, silent.
Will clenched his fingers once more, beckoning, staring straight into Hannibal's eyes.
Then Hannibal was on him, crashing into him, eliminating all space between them, his body a force of heat and pressure all along Will's front, and that mouth landing firmly on Will's.
Will gasped, Hannibal's tongue suddenly in his mouth, hot and slick, and roaming over every inch inside, his teeth, his palate, his tongue. Will shivered, groaned faintly, kissed back, and slid his fingers out from between them, up to Hannibal's neck, looping his arms around and then sinking into the kiss.
Hannibal's arms coiled around Will's back, then he leaned into Will, throat vibrating with low rough noises.
It was dizzying.
Will held tight to Hannibal's neck, one elbow crooked around the back of it, the other arm sliding lower, his fingers sinking into soft hair, relishing in the slide of it against his knuckles. Will sucked on Hannibal's full top lip, groaning again, his breath quickening now, harsher and panting.
Hands slunk down his back, curved and stopped on his ass, kneading, pulling.
A ragged moan, shockingly loud in the quiet of the alley, had Will jerking his head back, mouth open and throat working to suppress the helpless sound, eyes wide and stunned as they stared up to the sky. Hannibal's hands pawed relentlessly, and a hot sharp coil of heat burrowed deep into his gut. Lips landed slick along his exposed neck, and Will grimaced, sweetly pained from how quickly he grew hard. His hips moved erratically, seeking relief.
Hannibal's hips answered with a firm thrust, one leg bending forward between Will's and pressing tight to his aching cock.
“H-Hannibal!” Will gasped, back arching as he tried to press down all along Hannibal's thigh.
Hannibal silenced him with another deep kiss, and Will was lost. He clutched tight and ground down against Hannibal's thigh, unwilling to stop the noises coming from his throat, the taste of Hannibal's mouth intoxicating now, making him wild with heat and desire.
Hannibal's hands left his ass and slid up his back again, this time dislodging Will's shirt and landing warm, sweaty palms along his skin, rising up to press along his spine and then farther up to curve around his scapula, bringing Will's shirt ever higher. He felt exposed, and he liked it. He ground his hips down harder, twisting himself to press the bared skin of his stomach against the soft fabric of Hannibal's shirt.
Hannibal licked into his mouth again and again, slipping one hand off Will's back and then up into his hair. Hannibal's fingers tightened around a fistful of long, wild curls, and tugged.
“Oh god-” Will moaned, tipping his head back once more, delirious with lust, sweat dripping down his temples. “Yes, yes, please, Hannibal, I-”
Hannibal abruptly pulled away, leaving Will stumbling and exposed. He blinked at Hannibal, hands quickly landing behind him on the wall, trying to keep himself upright. Hannibal wasn't looking at him, and Will was confused, suddenly mortified. He dropped his gaze to his feet, ears ringing, and reached up to fixed his lop-sided shirt. He risked another glance. Had he done something wrong?
Hannibal was taking deep breaths, eyes closed and face turned away.
Will stood against the wall, wanting to disappear, wanting to understand, quickly growing angry. He hadn't done anything wrong. He knew how Hannibal felt, and he had known his own feelings for a while, but not felt any need to act on them. But now that he had, he realized how much he'd enjoyed kissing Hannibal, having the man's hands on his skin and, for once, causing pleasure, not pain.
Did Hannibal doubt Will's feelings after what they'd just shared? What they'd shared before the kiss? The past five years of their lives?
Will could suddenly feel the hesitance practically oozing from Hannibal. The fear, or as close to fear as Hannibal would ever feel. He had let himself get carried away and was now coming to terms with the consequences of his actions.
Will looked back down, attempting to untangle what he wanted to do from what he needed to do. He wanted to storm off on his own, punish Hannibal for pulling away, for anything he'd ever done that Will hadn't liked. Of course Hannibal would follow, and they'd likely not speak of this again, until Will decided to bring it up, and Will could dangle it in front of Hannibal like a feast he'd never get.
But…
What he needed to do was reach for Hannibal, tell him it was okay, tell him he wanted him, that he wanted this between them.
Will debated for several long seconds, deciding which one would be more fulfilling.
He cleared his throat, lifted his hand up, placating, an offering. “Hannibal...” He began softly.
Hannibal slapped his hand in Will's, yanked him off the wall, and kissed him again.
Will barely registered the move, then Hannibal was pulling back.
“Not here.” He rasped, voice several steps lower than usual.
Will's skin erupted in goosebumps. “What?”
“I must have you. Right now. Come, this way.” He turned and tugged Will along, further down into the alley.
Will let himself be led, heart pounding as he kept pace.