Main Hannibal Fan Fiction page | new stories page | Will/Hannibal slash page | other pairings page | gen stories page

Title: Spilling His Blood
By: angstytimelord
Pairing: Hannibal Lecter/Will Graham
Fandom: Hannibal
Rating: PG-13
Table: 1drabble
Prompt: 29, Blood
Author's Note: Sequel to "Fairy Tales Don't Come True."
Disclaimer: This is entirely a product of my own imagination, and I make no profit from it. I do not own the lovely Hannibal Lecter or Will Graham, unfortunately, just borrowing them for a while. Please do not sue.


"Damn!" Will brought his hand to his mouth, scowling.

He should have known better than to do this without proper lighting, he thought ruefully, looking at the fishing lure. It was getting too dark for this work.

He'd ended up cutting himself, as he'd known that he would. He had told himself more than once to turn on a light, but he'd thought that he could finish the lure before the sky outside started to darken. He'd taken more time with than he had planned.

And now he had ended up drawing blood. Well, not much, he told himself, putting his index finger into his mouth. Nothing that a Band-Aid couldn't fix.

But it had hurt more than he'd thought it would.

He took his finger out of his mouth, staring at the tip as a tiny drop of blood welled up again. His blood had been spilled, though it had been an accident.

Having his blood spilled when he and Hannibal next met would be no accident, Will thought as he went to the bathroom to get a package of Band-Aids from the medicine cabinet over the sink. Hannibal would be happy to make him bleed. He would get off on it.

He didn't doubt that for a moment, no matter what Hannibal might say. Hannibal was a serial killer. Causing pain was one of the things that made him happy.

No matter how long he lived, how much he studied the psychology of murderers, no matter how many times he got inside their heads, he would never understand them.

How could spilling blood make someone happy? Will asked himsef. He might be able to understand the euphoria that feeling powerful could give someone; wielding that kind of power, making the decision of whether to give life or death, could be a rush.

But he would never understand how that could be fulfilling enough for someone to want to do it again and again, simply because they could get away with it.

The thought made him shudder. It was chilling.

He didn't want to think of Hannibal spilling his blood and being happy about it. But unfortunately, he knew that was probably going to be the case.

Will didn't try to fool himself into thinking that Hannibal didn't want to do him harm. He wouldn't come over to Hannibal's way of thinking, and he never would -- which made him, in Hannibal's eyes, the enemy. They would always be at odds with each other.

Had they ever really been friends? Will didn't think so. It was impossible to be friends with someone who could do what Hannibal had done to him.

He'd been a fool to ever believe they'd been friends.

And now, he was sure that Hannibal wanted to spill his blood.

The very thought made him shudder again, this time with dread.

It was only a matter of time until their final confrontation.

All he could do was prepare for it, and hope for the best.