Rose Milk 🌹🥛

Ch. 02

The bedroom was still bathed in early morning dimness, the soft glow of dawn filtering through the curtains in pale ribbons of light. The rain had stopped sometime during the night.

Will stirred. Not fully awake, but enough to shift, enough to nuzzle his face against the hollow of Hannibal’s throat where warmth gathered. His breath came slow and steady, brushing against Hannibal’s skin, and his fingers twitched where they had been resting at Hannibal’s waist. He was only half-conscious of the way their legs were tangled, of the weight of an arm draped across his back, keeping him pressed close.

Hannibal had been awake for some time, but he had not moved, content to feel the steady rise and fall of Will’s chest against his own. He let his hand trace lazy circles over the bare skin of Will’s back, featherlight, his fingers mapping the subtle dips of his spine, the warmth of his skin still carrying traces of sleep.

Will made a quiet sound at the touch, something between a hum and a sigh, shifting just enough to press a slow kiss against Hannibal’s collarbone. His lips were warm, slightly dry from sleep, but the kiss was unhurried, lingering in the way that spoke of waking up slowly, of not wanting to leave the comfort of the bed just yet.

Hannibal let his fingers slide up, following the curve of Will’s shoulder, then down the length of his arm. When Will lifted his head slightly, Hannibal caught his face in his hands, thumbs smoothing over the faint indentations left by the pillow. He looked at him for a moment, eyes soft with something unreadable, something quiet but heavy.

“Hi,” Will murmured, his voice still thick with sleep, low and rasping.

“Hello, you,” Hannibal said, his fingers brushing along Will’s jaw before tilting his face up. Their lips met in a kiss that was slow, deep, the kind that carried no urgency, only the quiet certainty of familiarity. Will sighed into it, his hands finding their way to Hannibal’s ribs, sliding over warm skin with a kind of reverence.

The kiss deepened, languid and consuming, sheets warmed by bodies pressed close. Will let himself be pulled further into it, let his body mold into Hannibal’s, the shape of them curling into one another like something inevitable.

When they finally broke apart, Will rested his forehead against Hannibal’s, eyes still half-lidded, fingers still tracing idle patterns against his skin. Hannibal let his hand drift up, threading fingers through Will’s curls, thumb brushing over the shell of his ear in a touch so light it sent a shiver down his spine.

“Stay here a little longer,” Hannibal murmured, his voice softer in the morning quiet.

Will let out a small, sleepy chuckle. “I wasn’t planning on going anywhere.”

A satisfied hum rumbled in Hannibal’s chest as he pressed a lingering kiss to Will’s temple. The morning stretched out around them, slow and golden, filled only with the sound of their breathing, the rustle of sheets, the warmth of shared touch. And neither of them moved.

The rain had left the world outside damp and quiet, the trees still dripping, the streets washed clean, but inside, everything was slow, unhurried, comfortably lived-in.

Hannibal stood at the counter, sleeves rolled up, methodically plating their breakfast. Will sat at the kitchen table, still slightly drowsy, his curls an unruly mess from sleep, his fingers wrapped around a steaming mug of coffee. He watched as Hannibal moved with effortless precision.

“You look good,” Will murmured, taking a sip of his coffee.

Hannibal turned, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Do I?”

“Mm hm,” Will hummed as Hannibal placed a plate in front of him—perfectly scrambled eggs, dark rye toast, and fresh fruit, arranged with the kind of care only Hannibal would consider necessary for a casual weekday breakfast.

“Too good” Will teased, picking up his fork.

Hannibal took his seat across from him, his expression entirely unfazed. “Too good to be oit of your sight, you mean.”

Will rolled his eyes, but there was warmth in his gaze as he reached for his toast. “Too good for those preying nurse eyes.”

Hannibal took a sip of his coffee, watching him with quiet amusement. “You’re not helping your case, I like it when you’re jealous.”

Will didn’t answer, only shook his head with a small, knowing smile as he focused on his food. The easy silence stretched between them, broken only by the occasional clink of silverware.

At some point, Hannibal reached across the table, fingers brushing against Will’s wrist before settling there, warm and familiar. Will didn’t pull away—just continued eating, his free hand idly playing with Hannibal’s fingers, tracing over the lines of his knuckles.

When they finished, Will leaned back with a satisfied sigh, stretching his legs under the table. “We should leave soon.”

Hannibal hummed in acknowledgment, but made no move to get up. Instead, he reached for Will’s coffee mug, bringing it to his lips for a sip before setting it back down with deliberate casualness.

Will huffed. “You have your own.”

“And yet, yours tastes better,” Hannibal replied smoothly, standing at last and moving to gather their plates.

Will shook his head, but there was no bite to it. He pushed his chair back and stood, stretching as he wandered toward the coat rack by the door. Hannibal joined him a moment later, adjusting his cufflinks with practiced ease.

Will shrugged into his coat, then turned, wordlessly holding Hannibal’s out for him. Hannibal stepped closer, allowing Will to help him into it.

As Hannibal adjusted the lapels, Will reached up, smoothing a hand over his collar before leaning in, pressing a brief, lingering kiss to the corner of his mouth.

“Let’s go,” Will murmured against his lips.

Hannibal moved through the corridors of the hospital, nodding politely to nurses and colleagues.

In the brief pause between surgeries, in the solitude of his office, he reached for his phone.

It rang twice before Will picked up, his voice thick with distraction. “Hey.”

Hannibal exhaled, the tension he hadn’t realized he was holding easing just at the sound of him. “Can you talk?”

A rustling sound—paper shifting, maybe the scrape of a chair—then Will’s voice, clearer this time. “Yeah,” A pause. “What’s up?”

Hannibal leaned back in his chair, allowing his eyes to close briefly. “Nothing’s up. How are you?”

Will huffed a soft laugh. “I’m okay.”

For a moment, neither of them spoke. There was no need to. The quiet between them was easy, filled with the distant sounds of their respective spaces—pages turning on Will’s end, the muffled announcement of a nurse outside Hannibal’s office.

Then, Will spoke again, voice softer. “How’s your day?”

“Routine,” Hannibal said.

“So lots of flirting with nurses, then.”

Hannibal let his lips curve in the barest hint of a smile. “Not on my end.”

“Sure.” Another pause. Then Will sighed, shifting, the fabric of his shirt rustling through the receiver. “Well, I miss you.”

“I miss you, too.”

Will was silent for a moment, but Hannibal could hear the faintest breath of amusement, the warmth in it. “Okay, so retire and live as my shadow.”

“How much is the salary?”

“No salary, but lots of benefits.”

Hannibal glanced at the clock. His break was nearly over, but he had no desire to hang up just yet. “I’ll consider your offer.”

Will groaned, but it wasn’t truly exasperated. “Fine, stay there and flirt with nurses.”

Hannibal chuckled, low and quiet. “As if there’s no flirting in your little FBI Academy.”

“Not on my end.” Will teased.

Something warm unfurled in Hannibal’s chest. “You went to work with one of my t-shirts, didn’t you?”

“Yeah, the grey one.”

Hannibal hummed in approval. He could picture it easily—the fabric loose on Will’s frame, familiar, worn. “It suits you.”

“It smells like you.”

The admission came quietly, almost absentmindedly, as though Will hadn’t meant to say it out loud. Hannibal didn’t comment on it, but his fingers curled slightly against the desk, his gaze flickering toward the door when he heard footsteps approaching.

“I should go,” he murmured.

“Yeah.” Will’s voice was quieter now, reluctant.

“I’ll see you later.”

“Yeah,” Will repeated, softer this time.

Hannibal hesitated for half a second before adding, “I love you so much.”

Will exhaled a laugh, something fond threading through it. “I know. Love you too.”

And with that, the line went dead. Hannibal set his phone down, allowing himself a small, satisfied smile before standing and stepping back into the sterile, fluorescent-lit world of the hospital.