A little more of the presently untitled vampire Hannibal fic. Though I guess now it’s more of a vampire Will and Hannibal fic..
Will lay on Hannibal’s sofa, burning hot with fever.
“When I was first afflicted, I thought myself sick with a common case of food poisoning,” Hannibal said. “Until the sun came up, that is.”
“Couldn’t you smell it?” Will asked through gritted teeth. “The… affliction.”
“The meat carried no unusual taste or smell. In hindsight, it should have given me pause that the man had been just as cold in life as in death.”
“He wasn’t alive. Even before you killed him.”
“No. He was not.”
“I’m dying,” Will huffed out, almost amused.
“Yes. You are. I’ll take you to rest in my coffin soon.”
Will laughed then, right through his burning pain. “You sleep in a coffin. Of course you do.”
“I have a certain fondness for the tradition, though any light-tight place will do.”
“Where will you rest?”
Hannibal smirked. “It’s quite a large coffin. Plenty of room for two. Unless you object to my company.”
Will squeezed his eyes shut, feeling his pulse stutter, now just a thready vibration in his neck. “I don’t object,” he slurred, comforted by the notion that he wouldn’t be alone. That Hannibal would be there with him, in the dark, as he slipped so carefully into death.
Too weak to open his eyes now, Will felt his body being lifted, carried, cradled in Hannibal’s arms. A door creaked open. The steps groaned as together they descended into Hannibal’s basement, and Will’s heart choked out one final beat.
Will woke to darkness, Hannibal’s shoulder pressed up against his own. He had the sensation that he was very cold, though it didn’t really register, like reading out the temperature of some far away place.
He pressed his fingers to his carotid and felt nothing. His heart sat empty beneath his breastbone. He was very hungry.
“Good evening,” Hannibal said. “It should be alright to go outside now.”
Hannibal pushed the coffin lid upward and helped Will to his feet. They made their way up to the kitchen, and Hannibal disappeared into the pantry, emerging minutes later with a decanter half-filled with blood.
“You must be starving.”
“I am,” Will said, following every movement of the blood as Hannibal filled a glass.
“Drink it slowly.”
Will smiled. “Afraid I’m going to give myself a vampire tummy ache?”
“Not at all. You should savor the first meal of your new life.”
Will’s hair stood on end as he lifted the glass to his nose and inhaled, overwhelmed with the scent of life. Honeyed-copper that dripped across his tongue at first taste. He wanted so badly to down it in one long swig, but settled instead for sipping it slowly as Hannibal eyed him from across the counter.
“You said it was better fresh and warm,” Will said, his glass now half empty, though his ravenous urges had not lessened.
Will licked the blood from his lips. “I think I’d like to try that.”