hannigram - shortfics

sick

Hannibal got sick,an infection in his wound. It started out as a cold but then it just evolved so fast, now he couldn't even walk by himself. All he could do was lie in bed and let Will take care of him. Most of the time he slept. The few hours he didn't they argued:

"It's too dangerous"

"I'm not asking for your permission, Hannibal, I'm informing you" Will was pacing in Hannibal's small room, he didn't know what to do with his hands and he was frustrated.

"Since it's concerning me, you don't get to act without my permission"

There had been times when Will had just wished Hannibal to shut up but now that even talking didn't come without great effort to him, he really missed the times when Dr. Lecter had been his psychiatrist. Now Hannibal had to pause six times just to get through that one sentence. And his voice never grew louder than the faintest whisper. His voice was merely the echo of what it used to be. His whole being was like an echo. A weak distorted copy of his former self. It was painful to see him like this.

"I'm not letting you die, I'm getting you a doctor or at least more medicine"

"You can't...leave" Will knew that, they had talked about this over and over again. They weren't supposed to stay so long, they should have left long ago. Nobody could know that the house was inhabited. Even worse inhabited by two wanted murderers. But then Hannibal shouldn't have got sick. And it was only getting worse.

"Dammit,Hannibal." Tears built in his eyes. Angry he left the room, hoping Hannibal hadn't noticed the tears.

Will continued to wash him,cook for him, feed him, and then bring him back to bed. Where he began to clean the bullet wound again and again. It stank of death and decay. When Will left to let Hannibal sleep, tears made their way over his cheeks shamelessly. "Fuck"

"Pieces of shattered bone could be still in the wound... or maybe pieces of the bullet. Maybe it's that what's infected. You have to get it out..."So Will did. Carefully. With tweezers he tried to find the origin of the infection. And he did. With the metallic tweezers he picked out pieces of shattered bone. Dark with clotted blood. Over and over again Will guided the tweezers into the wound. It felt as if he put his hands themselves into him, pushing deep into the wound. Hannibal couldn't even muster the strength to scream or just whimper. Or do anything at all. When Will finally removed all shattered pieces of bone that pierced through vessels, half grown into the flesh, Hannibal was unconscious. But breathing.He was breathing. Will smiled through tears and began to clean the wound again, cooled him down with wet clothes. At last he tugged him into bed. Carefully placing the blanket over him. He felt Hannibal's temperature. Still high but recovering. Softly he brushed his silver hair out of his face. "get well"

Will hadn't meant to fall asleep, just wanted to wait up for Hannibal to awaken.Sitting at his bedside, at one point he must have grabbed Hannibal's hand. To feel its pulse, of course. But then he couldn't make himself let go, afraid to find that when he would touch it again, he would grasp at dead flesh. Then again the prospect of feeling all warmth leave his body...no he couldn't let his mind go there.

Sometime he must have put his head on the mattress, while still sitting on the chair next to the bed, and fallen asleep.

He woke to something pushing through his curls. Sleepily he opened his eyes and lifted his head, Hannibal's left hand still clutched in his grip. And still warm, blood was pumping through his body, stronger now. Without thinking he raised Hannibal's hand to his lips and began to kiss each knuckle and every patch of skin on it. Not until the thumb of the hand lovingly caressed the corner of his mouth, did Will look up and noticed the gleaming eyes fixed on his mouth.

Knowing that he must have blushed furiously, he tried to play it cool and asked flatly, "how do you feel?"

"Better, thanks to you" He did even sound better.