Get Neph away. Get Neph and himself far fucking away from everything that's happened here. Back home, back where Will can think in private, back where they're safe and people can't bother them--
(They broke into their apartment. They knew where they lived and knew how to break in. That violation sinks right through Will, makes him queasy.)
Will's never heard someone beg before. But that's the first word that comes to mind for what Neph does, for the terrified babble that raises the hairs on the back of Will's neck.
And it's happening here, about them, not earlier when she'd been threatened with guns and knives by strangers. Will understands that in a visceral way, even as its foreign - the disconnect from the unknown, the lack of threat from weaker physical dangers...and the welling emptiness that no one can actually effect.
No one except the people who've helped heal it.
Fingers dig into his arm. Will's own grip tightens in response, little barbs digging into them from both sides. It's not a comforting way to connect, to feel a pull; it's desperate and scared and Will looks Neph directly in the eyes as she does something no one else has ever directly requested of him--
Asks him not to leave. Directly, no implications. Asks Will for...himself.
Will stares at her, dazed. "I w--" He can't make a promise he can't keep...but he has to promise something in return for that. "I don't want to leave," he says, even as he feels that I won't leave you, either of you press against his lungs, desperate to need and be needed.
But there's blood soaking his jeans and blood in Neph's hair and dripping from her ruined fingers and Hannibal, Hannibal is coated in it like an Eldritch monster, and Will knows he can't promise his loyalty out loud just yet.
Neph touches Hannibal, and Will lets them reconnect after a battle they fought entirely alone, together.
Will isn't sure Hannibal realizes Neph can't hear him. All Will watches is the two of them staring at each other with an intensity that blinds Will.
Hannibal's stare at Neph captivates Will, especially as he's easier to see. His look crests over and breaks into a foam that Will then realizes he instinctively knows. Even though he doesn't think anyone's ever looked at him with that intention, even though he's rarely seen it in others, it's just so clear and strong that Will tastes it in his mouth. As easily recognized as salt spray.
Love. Will swallows, parched, and shivers with the force of that stare.
He would never have expected that when the pain surprises Neph back out of herself again, that she'd dig her face instead into his shoulder. Hannibal watches, no jealousy on his face, just that same rapt intensity.
When that gaze moves back up to him, it changes ever so slightly. Will doesn't feel rejected, but he has never so clearly seen the way their respective histories color how Hannibal sees them. Even with Will's instincts, he can't quite map it out, only that Hannibal's constant boredom at the general population masks a boundless ability for becoming attached to others, in ways Will's never really seen anyone need anyone else.
"Your arm's broken. In multiple spots. But we should leave before I make you a sling or try to set anything." Hannibal supplies, and while it's obvious it's probably necessary to state, so they can move on and plan. "And I don't think applying too much pressure to your fingers is a good idea, regardless of their bleeding. They need to be set. But here." And Hannibal is taking off his button-up shirt, white undershirt underneath even more drastically stained with someone else's blood.
He goes to ball it in around Neph's hand like the bulk of a boxing glove. And for a few moments the room goes quiet, dead all around them, Neph breathing loud into Will's shoulder before Hannibal actually touches anything sensitive.
"We should burn this place," Will says slowly. "Did you do to the other bodies what you did to that one? The news'll have a frenzy. Anti-mutant propaganda everywhere." Will's chin tucks in protectively over Neph's head, gaze shifting behind him to what he's leaning against. What he was tied to before. "We can burn it with these." His knuckle raps against the oil drum, loud and expansive.
Hannibal gives him a look of genuine incredulity. "Or they will be alarmed at the act of violence against a pro-human group." But he looks sorely tempted. There's still hell in his eyes. "Neph," Hannibal says, firm but gentle, in a way Will's never really seen him. It feels almost like he's done this before, like the way Hannibal might speak to a child - though Will's never seen him near one. It's a Hannibal way of speaking to a child, if that's what it is - not patronizing or simplified, just earnest but softer than he bothers to be with most.
No surprise, Will thinks, that Neph ends up being the fulcrum of a tie breaker. "What do you think? Burn the warehouse down? Or leave the bodies to be found?"
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timeasmymeasure
no subject
Date: 2017-07-11 10:59 pm (UTC)(They broke into their apartment. They knew where they lived and knew how to break in. That violation sinks right through Will, makes him queasy.)
Will's never heard someone beg before. But that's the first word that comes to mind for what Neph does, for the terrified babble that raises the hairs on the back of Will's neck.
And it's happening here, about them, not earlier when she'd been threatened with guns and knives by strangers. Will understands that in a visceral way, even as its foreign - the disconnect from the unknown, the lack of threat from weaker physical dangers...and the welling emptiness that no one can actually effect.
No one except the people who've helped heal it.
Fingers dig into his arm. Will's own grip tightens in response, little barbs digging into them from both sides. It's not a comforting way to connect, to feel a pull; it's desperate and scared and Will looks Neph directly in the eyes as she does something no one else has ever directly requested of him--
Asks him not to leave. Directly, no implications. Asks Will for...himself.
Will stares at her, dazed. "I w--" He can't make a promise he can't keep...but he has to promise something in return for that. "I don't want to leave," he says, even as he feels that I won't leave you, either of you press against his lungs, desperate to need and be needed.
But there's blood soaking his jeans and blood in Neph's hair and dripping from her ruined fingers and Hannibal, Hannibal is coated in it like an Eldritch monster, and Will knows he can't promise his loyalty out loud just yet.
Neph touches Hannibal, and Will lets them reconnect after a battle they fought entirely alone, together.
Will isn't sure Hannibal realizes Neph can't hear him. All Will watches is the two of them staring at each other with an intensity that blinds Will.
Hannibal's stare at Neph captivates Will, especially as he's easier to see. His look crests over and breaks into a foam that Will then realizes he instinctively knows. Even though he doesn't think anyone's ever looked at him with that intention, even though he's rarely seen it in others, it's just so clear and strong that Will tastes it in his mouth. As easily recognized as salt spray.
Love. Will swallows, parched, and shivers with the force of that stare.
He would never have expected that when the pain surprises Neph back out of herself again, that she'd dig her face instead into his shoulder. Hannibal watches, no jealousy on his face, just that same rapt intensity.
When that gaze moves back up to him, it changes ever so slightly. Will doesn't feel rejected, but he has never so clearly seen the way their respective histories color how Hannibal sees them. Even with Will's instincts, he can't quite map it out, only that Hannibal's constant boredom at the general population masks a boundless ability for becoming attached to others, in ways Will's never really seen anyone need anyone else.
"Your arm's broken. In multiple spots. But we should leave before I make you a sling or try to set anything." Hannibal supplies, and while it's obvious it's probably necessary to state, so they can move on and plan. "And I don't think applying too much pressure to your fingers is a good idea, regardless of their bleeding. They need to be set. But here." And Hannibal is taking off his button-up shirt, white undershirt underneath even more drastically stained with someone else's blood.
He goes to ball it in around Neph's hand like the bulk of a boxing glove. And for a few moments the room goes quiet, dead all around them, Neph breathing loud into Will's shoulder before Hannibal actually touches anything sensitive.
"We should burn this place," Will says slowly. "Did you do to the other bodies what you did to that one? The news'll have a frenzy. Anti-mutant propaganda everywhere." Will's chin tucks in protectively over Neph's head, gaze shifting behind him to what he's leaning against. What he was tied to before. "We can burn it with these." His knuckle raps against the oil drum, loud and expansive.
Hannibal gives him a look of genuine incredulity. "Or they will be alarmed at the act of violence against a pro-human group." But he looks sorely tempted. There's still hell in his eyes. "Neph," Hannibal says, firm but gentle, in a way Will's never really seen him. It feels almost like he's done this before, like the way Hannibal might speak to a child - though Will's never seen him near one. It's a Hannibal way of speaking to a child, if that's what it is - not patronizing or simplified, just earnest but softer than he bothers to be with most.
No surprise, Will thinks, that Neph ends up being the fulcrum of a tie breaker. "What do you think? Burn the warehouse down? Or leave the bodies to be found?"