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In retrospect, Will really shouldn’t have drank as much, or at all, as he did. He just hated parties; holiday parties were no exception to that. If Jack hadn’t strong armed him and if Alana hadn’t given him that smile that she knew made him feel like a giddy teen, he could have been at home with his dogs, fixing the boat motor in his living room. As it stood now, he was crammed in the small corner by the doorway, trying very hard not to notice the rising amount of heat in his cheeks.
Drinking in the sort of quiet ‘I’m not an alcoholic’ kind of way Will was used to often quieted his mind, at least temporarily. Through the first hour and a half, he had been nursing an egg-nog that Price had made. He was sure that if he came too close to an open flame, the drink would catch fire. Then Beverly talked him into a second, and then into a third. ‘Come on Will, they aren’t that strong!’ She had laughed, clapping him on the shoulder softly. ‘I’ve already had three.’ Will hadn’t accounted for the brunette having the drinking tolerance of the entire nation of Germany.
“Lookin’ a lil pink in the cheeks there, Graham.” Zeller slurred as he caught sight of Will’s hiding spot.
Hi pot, I’m kettle, you’re black; Will thought, glancing somewhere around the man’s chin. “How much have you had to drink, Zeller?” Will enquired, cocking an eyebrow up nonchalantly.
Zeller looked down at his drink with surprise, his brows furrowing as he grinned. “This is my secon’.”
Will shook his head almost fondly as the tech staggered away to talk with Price, who looked as composed as Beverly. The part-time profiler leaned against the wall and rubbed his eyes, vainly hoping that maybe the alcohol would stop effecting him if he willed it to. He tried to move inconspicuously toward the door, wanting more than anything to be away from all of the people. He, of course, only managed to succeed in running into Hannibal as he came walking in.
“Oh, Will, there you are, I was just looking for you.” Hannibal greeted cordially.
Will looked up at Hannibal’s nose. “S-sorry, Doctor Lecter, I didn’t mean to bump into you.”
“No harm done, Will. You seem a bit fevered, have you been drinking?” Hannibal asked with the traces of a chuckle in his voice.
Will nodded, tilting his head in the direction of Beverly and the half emptied bowl of eggnog. The doctor’s eyes followed his movements and he smiled. Will realized somewhat belatedly that he and Hannibal were still standing almost chest to chest. Awkwardly, he chuckled and began to step back before he heard Zeller bellowed in their direction.
“Graham and Lecter are standin’ under the mistletoe!” He yelled, pointing in their direction.
Will and Hannibal both looked up to see the little sprig of berries hanging from the doorframe. Hannibal chuckled, looking momentarily at Will’s lips before shaking his head minutely.
“Well I would normally say we should honour the tradition but-“Hannibal was cut off by Will’s lips sealing over his.
What little part of the profiler’s rational mind that was left, was screaming at him that he was violating several doctor patient ethics, but god-damn Hannibal’s lips were soft. He held onto the doctor’s lapels, gasping as Hannibal’s arms wrapped around his waist. Their tongues touched and he practically melted. It was a proverbial dream and nightmare in one; he was kissing his doctor and, reasonably, his only friend but Hannibal was kissing him back and holding him tight.
The cat-calls brought Will out of the haze he was in. Zeller, Price and even Katz were hooping like rowdy teens. Will pushed himself away from Hannibal and stared up at him. The doctor’s lips were red and shining slightly with their mingled saliva. There was a rush of heat into his face and Will did the only logical thing he could think to do with his drunken mind, he ran. He was out of the front door into the night air before anyone could stop him.
Hannibal watched him go with the smallest frown on his face. He shot a glare to the trio, who had the decency to look ashamed, save Zeller who seemed too stupidly drunk to realise his error. Hannibal turned and followed out the door to find the young FBI agent.
He found the brunet kneeling in snow, arms curled around his frame. “Will.” He began, touching his shoulder.
The brunet jerked and stared up at Hannibal. His eyes were glassy and red-rimmed. “Look, Doctor Lecter, I’m sorry. I’m drunk. Just go back the party, okay?”
Hannibal kneeled and wrapped his arms around Will’s shoulders, moving his coat to wrap it around them both. Will tried not shake, grabbing Hannibal’s hand and holding it tightly. The doctor turned Will’s face to kiss him. He touched their foreheads together and sighed quietly.
“Whether you are drunk or not, I am glad you had the courage to make a move like that.” Hannibal whispered. “Now, rather than freezing in the parking lot, shall we head back into the party?”
Will nodded and took Hannibal’s hand when he offered it. Together they walked back into the party, Will twining their fingers together as a small smile played on his blushing face.