Eyescape by Rankin
Eyescape by Rankin
Will Graham: Will slept, surrounded by his dogs, oblivious to how Hannibal was spending his night. Morning came too quickly, and his morning class passed too slowly, dragging on like it never had before. He wasn’t excited for the dinner party, not in the least. He was dreading having to be social with a bunch of people whom he likely had nothing in common with. More than that, he was dreading having to deal with the odd and uncomfortable feelings that had surfaced when he had spent the night, and morning, with Hannibal Lecter. He had never been open about his sexuality, but he’d never denied it either. Whatever had happened between them, whether he’d read into it too much or whether he wasn’t understanding it at all, it had brought back a sort of keen ache that he’d thought he’d long since lost. For someone with so many issues, having any kind of relationship was a struggle, and so he’d resigned himself to being alone with his dogs, and that had been alright for him. But now, all he could think about was the way Hannibal had looked at him in that suit, the soft press of the doctor’s lips to his cheek when he’d bid him goodbye. He couldn’t even put a name to how that had made him feel. Empty? Alone? But at the same time it made him feel warm. Proud. Wanted. It was altogether too confusing, and he was going to have to come to terms with it tonight. On the way home from the academy, he stopped to pick up Hannibal’s suit at the dry cleaner; it would have been rude to bring it back dirty, after Hannibal had been so kind by lending it to him in the first place. At three o’clock, he was pacing back and forth in his living room, his phone in his hand, debating calling and making some excuse for why he couldn’t go to dinner, but none seemed adequate, not after the way the doctor had smiled at him and insisted that he be present. Four thirty found him splashing on some of that aftershave that Hannibal had given him as a gift, and styling his hair so that it didn’t look like he’d just crawled out of bed. He didn’t look half bad, he supposed, in fitted black slacks and a neat white dress shirt and black tie. He looked almost like he was ready, though he supposed mentally, he never would be. He arrived at Hannibal’s house at six o’clock, and the driveway was already full of cars. It took a full five minutes for him to build up the courage to get out of the car, bottle of wine in hand, and make his way up to the door. His hand was shaking as he lifted it to knock, and he waited, shifting uncomfortably from foot to foot, for his host to answer.
Hannibal Lecter: Hannibal Lecter had been mingling when he’d heard Alana announce that Will had driven up. His high cheekbones caught the light as he turned, intrigued by the empath’s punctuality—he’d assumed Will would have turned up much later. Moving across the room, past his guests, Hannibal would stand next to the door of his home, awaiting the knock that signaled Will had somehow overcome that nagging voice in his mind that forbade him from social outings. Hannibal opened the door slowly, his eyes coming to rest on Will. Hannibal, looking like sin poured into a suit, bowed his head and smiled, “…Will. It is lovely to see you. Please, come in.” He said graciously, stepping back in the same motion he did when they had their sessions, so
that the other could pass by him. As Will stepped into the home, Hannibal’s nostrils pulled in the scent of him, knowing immediately of his anxiety and the aftershave he’d used. The psychiatrist was pleased to
smell his gift on the empath, and it would garner a bit of a grin from Hannibal, one that people saw once, maybe twice in a year. As Will offered up the bottle of wine he’d brought, Hannibal looked at him, his eyes shining. The ash grey haired host had not expected a gift, and how he did love red wine, “Ah, a Marchesi di Grésy Dolcetto d’Alba Monte Aribaldo…2009.” He said happily, the words rolling off his tongue with a certain kind of seduction, “Thank you, Will. I will put this in line to be served. Everyone needs a good red wine.” Hannibal himself was a wine obsessed man, who brewed his very own using the very plasma he’d put in the tomato sauce he was serving on that night. With a sly smile, he
would lean over and whisper in Will’s ear, “Go mingle. Alana is here tonight, and looking very…’kissable’.” Hannibal said suggestively, curious how Will would react to seeing her again after all that has happened, “You should speak with her.” He said, whispering through the
chrysalis as it were. Moving through the party to hand the wine to a server, he would check the food, only to return to Will once he saw him alone again, “Are you enjoying yourself?” He asked softly, offering Will a quite full glass of red wine that he’d brought over with him, “Try this…” He whispered in the empath’s ear, too close, so warm, “…It’s the same wine I served you when you spent the night at my home.”
Will Graham: Will handed over the bottle of wine, not at all surprised that Hannibal knew everything about it. He’d picked it out because it was fairly expensive and he didn’t want to bring a cheap bottle of wine to a dinner that he knew was going to be spectacular. His cheeks flushed at
the mention of Alana, and he looked over to where she was, standing across the room, chatting with someone who must have been one of Hannibal’s friends. She barely found the time to say hello to him, and he supposed that was completely understandable. He wasn’t the kind of person who anyone wanted a relationship with. He was unstable, in every sense of the word. He couldn’t even understand why Hannibal would want to keep him as a friend. The older man was the perfect
opposite of him, tall and handsome and refined, looking naturally comfortable in a perfectly-fitting suit, walking through the small crowd and drawing everyone’s attention effortlessly. Even as he
crossed the room to greet Alana, his gaze lingered on the doctor’s retreating form, and it took a lot of effort to put on a smile and chat
with the woman who had once held his heart.She excused herself after some light conversation, leaving Will standing awkward and alone while
everyone else socialized. It was a relief when Hannibal joined him, handing over a glass of the same wine they’d shared the night before. “Thank you,” he said, ignoring the little shiver that shot down his spine at how close Hannibal was, how he could smell a subtle hint of spice on the older man as he leaned in. He took a sip of wine, glancing up at Hannibal and forcing a half-smile. “And thanks for inviting me. I know I’m not as fascinating as your other guests but I appreciate it.”
Hannibal Lecter: Hannibal would smile gently, placing a hand fully on the empath’s shoulder, “Nonesense. You are the most interesting person in this room…to me.” He said honestly, speaking from his experience both in life and in their ‘therapy’. Hannibal stepped around Will to face him, his own wine in his hand. As Hannibal brought it to his lips, it would halt just under his nose and he would inhale deeply, taking in the gorgeous scent of it, the full-bodied taste evident even before he’d let the red liquid trickle down his throat. As he took a sip, he tasted every element, the raspberries, subtle hint of fermentation and sugars, and the deep taste of plasma that gave the wine its strength, the alcohol content quite a bit higher than a normal table wine—something that Will would likely not know. The psychiatrist would gaze around the room, Alana’s gaze meeting his own, her cheeks flaring with a blush as she stared at the man. Hannibal would tip his glass to her before taking another long sip, only after taking in the scent once more. Hannibal’s gaze returned
to Will, far more interested in him. He leaned in, smiling at the empath, “You clean up quite well, I might add.” He complimented, hoping it would make him feel a bit more comfortable, but it more than likely aided in making him feel more awkward. Hannibal’s head turned when they he was alerted that the dinner was ready. Herding the guests into the kitchen like sheep, everyone would take their seat at the elaborate spread Hannibal had prepared. He stood tall at the head of the table a smile on his face as the room clapped for him, showing their thanks for the meal, nay the art, he’d created. Hannibal would open his arms, “Dig in.” He said, smirking before he would sit down, securing the napkin on his lap. The entire table would be served before him, each dish served in the most perfect of ways. The dinner slowly wore on, a mess of people chatting and eating, compliments flying in several directions.
Hannibal did not speak much, eyeing Will periodically, noticing he was adoring the wine. He smiled, politely eating his food with perfect etiquette.
Will Graham: Will noticed the interaction between Hannibal and Alana, noticed the way her cheeks flushed and she smiled, and he felt jealousy flare up somewhere deep inside of him, but he wasn’t quite sure who it was directed towards. He wasn’t sure he was jealous for the same
reasons he would have been a few months ago. He brushed it off quickly, however, when Hannibal’s attention was back on him, and he couldn’t help but give a wry smile at the compliment he was given. “I couldn’t exactly show up in cargo pants and a plaid shirt,” he joked,
finding that with Hannibal’s company, he actually did feel relaxed, if only a tiny bit. That bubble was broken when they were called to the table, and he settled across from Alana, at the head of the table next to Hannibal. He applauded the stunning feast that was brought out for them, even chanced a moment of eye contact with Hannibal as a sincere thank you for all of the effort he’d put in for this. Will had not eaten so well in as long as he could remember.As dinner went on, he drained his glass, and then another. It seemed that the wait staff was intent on filling up his glass every time he emptied it. It made sense of course; wine would keep the guests happy and ensure that they were enjoying their night. He’d never had anything like the food or drink that Hannibal had prepared for tonight, and he found himself stealing glances of their
wonderful host, barely paying any mind to Alana, who was trying to strike up a conversation. By the time dinner was over, his face was warm, his cheeks pink from the alcohol — was this his fourth or fifth glass? He could hardly remember. They were excused from the table, for little
dessert bites and more mingling, and he found himself drawn towards Hannibal. “Dinner was delicious,” he complimented, his voice only slightly slurred, though it seemed he’d also lost some of his inhibitions in the process. “And if you keep serving me this wine, I might never leave.”
Hannibal Lecter: Hannibal would speak lightly with Alana as she offered conversation, getting through dinner with enough ease, hearing no complaints from anyone at the table. As dinner ended and the party moved back out into the parlour, Hannibal would accept Will’s company, bowing his head politely to the empath, “Thank you, Will.” He said, noticing the alcohol on Will’s breath and the colour to his cheeks. Hannibal took a sip of his own wine, the smile on his face
remaining, “…Well, the wine here is virtually never ending…so, with me, your glass will never empty…until you refuse the bottle.” He said, the twinkle in Hannibal’s eyes being far more than suggestive. It was true that Hannibal Lecter found himself drawn to Will like a moth to the flame,
finding him the sole unpredictable thing in this world. Through the entirety of his time with the FBI, and in life itself, he had been able to predict every action that every human made. They were simple to Hannibal, no better than pigs—but, Will…in Will he saw himself, saw something far less simple. He was intrigued, and his psychiatrist would say he was obsessed, and that was not far from the truth. Hannibal sat down his own empty wine glass, smiling as the guests happily nibbled on deserts, the sweet delicate scent of the pieces filling the room. He would take one step closer to Will, one hand in his pocket, the other rubbing his own strong jaw, “…Did you enjoy yourself?” He asked, curious how the empath was feeling about the fact that he’d been having to be social.
Will Graham: Will caught the suggestive tone in Hannibal’s voice, and he chuckled softly. All of this was utterly confusing, and it had him questioning every action, every word spoken. His head was foggy with the effects of the wine, and yet he still took the time to drain the rest of his glass before setting it down next to Hannibal’s. The step into his personal space was obvious, but he didn’t back up this time, not like he had before. He wanted to know what this was about, and he
wanted to see just how far Hannibal would take this little game. “I enjoyed your company, the food and the wine,” he answered honestly, his gaze dropping to the floor between them, trying not to stare at the way Hannibal’s strong hands rubbed along his jawline. “Otherwise I have nothing in common with any of these people, and I’m almost certain they’d rather not have me around. Not that it matters, of course. I’m here for you, not for their entertainment.” He dared to shift, just the
slightest bit, moving closer to Hannibal. There were only inches between them and he could practically feel the heat coming off of the other man - or was that just his imagination? Whatever it was, it caused a familiar heat to bloom low in his stomach, twisting around his abdomen. He shoved his hands into his pants pockets, pulling the already fitted fabric taut across his hips.
Hannibal Lecter: Hannibal noted the slight courage that the wine had seemed to instill in the empath, knowing that if he’d been completely sober, Will would have more than likely backed away from his advances. Hannibal could smell the pheremones that rose up from the other, his skin becoming a far more thick scent. The psychiatrist leg his gaze fall to Will’s pants as his hands plunged into pockets, he noted the tightness of them, and would swallow, his eyes slowly rising back to the empath’s face, “…Mmn. Well, I am glad you came, if only for my sake.” He said softly, reaching forward to pick a piece of curled hiar from the white fabricked shoulder of Will’s shirt. He would blow it from his finger as if it were an eyelash, a smile crossing his face, ”…I do hope you know that you have to stay here tonight. I can’t let you drive like this.” He said as he winked at Will, pushing his hands back into his own pockets. Hannibal’s gaze faultered a moment as he watched people grabbing their coats and being shown out. Many would offer a bow to Hannibal, or congratulate him on his beautiful dinner party. He offered a head bow in thanks as the servers walked them out. The crowd would dwindle until all that was left was the serving staff, who would also leave after cleaning and putting everything back in order. The dapper psychiatrist would stand alone with Will in the parlour then, smiling at him, ”…Quiet is nice.”
[Just a taste~ If you’d like to roleplay with me, just send me an ask and we’ll work something out.]
((This is how the episode should have ended!!! You’re Welcome tumblr!))
I KNEW IT
Pick a shade, any shade.
I took the Bandit oath.
I b at da club lyk