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"Yes," Hannibal says. "That's the idea. I'll be happy to be your pillow tonight."

Sinric stretches out on the bed, almost methodically. As if making himself aware of his body before settling against Hannibal's side.

A calming mechanism perhaps.

Hannibal puts his arms around him, and the blanket over them both.

Sinric rests his head on Hannibal's shoulder, his hand splayed over the turn of his ribs. "Thank you."

He closes his eyes, letting sleep take him swiftly.

Hannibal stays warm and close all night.

Sinric wakes at dawn but for once he doesn't slip away to the roof or an east window. Instead he lays still, eyes closed as he listens to Hannibal breath, to the beat of his heart. He brushed his fingers softly over Hannibal's stomach, following the soft trail of hair there.

It doesn't take long, and Hannibal opens an eye, blinking owlishly at Sinric in the cool light of dawn.

Sinric smiles softly and strokes a gentle line over Hannibal's brow. "Sleep. You don't need to be awake because I am."

"You could sleep more if you want to," Hannibal says, bending his head into Sinric's touch.

He shrugs softly. "Do you mind if I use your shower? I fear I may have gotten blood in my hair."

"Of course you can," Hannibal says. "I'll dress your wound again afterwards. Do you want tea or coffee yet?"

"Tea would be wonderful, thank you." He presses a soft kiss to Hannibal's cheek before sliding silently out of the bed and into the bathroom.

He's in there rather a long time. When he does finally emerge, it's with hair washed and towelled dry, skin scrubbed pink and his eyes red with tears shed and out of his system. At least for now.

Hannibal, naked under a silk robe, finishes making tea for them both, and smiles at Sinric.

"Come here," he says.

Sinric crosses to him very readily, a towel wrapped low around his narrow hips, otherwise bare and clean.

"I hope you slept well I feared I might dream but I don't recall crying out."

"You didn't," Hannibal assures him, pouring water into the teapot. "And I did. I hope you feel better?"

"That's a boon at least."

He runs his hands through his hair, carding out tangled. "I'm still angry and a little afraid but I no longer feel at risk of bursting into tears or flying into a rage."

"Jim will hopefully know better now," Hannibalmsays, wiping a tiny speck of water off the countertop.

"Out of fear of you and Security perhaps. Not because of me. I doubt I've heard the last from him."

He leans against the bench, letting his hair fall over his face. "He may not try something so dramatic again but I am a victim too him. He will pick at me again as boys throwing stones at street dogs - for the pleasure of causing pain."

His tone is not self-pitying, more considered and aware. He has clearly put thought into where he stands now.

Edited 2016-11-07 06:40 (UTC)

"He doesn't dare take his problems where they belong," Hannibal says. "One could argue that it's somewhat cowardly."

"Just so." He nods, leaning in to breathe in the steam of the tea. "But to face the truth would be be to destroy himself as well as his obsession."

He shakes his hair back and sighs. "I planned to leave today. If the last few trips have proven, it may be some time before I have to face to him again."

"Who knows what might happen with him and Sherlock in the meantime," Hannibal muses. "If he is back, Jim will be too busy to pester you much, and too happy to even want to."

"Or perhaps I will come back stronger than before. And show him what street dogs do when they're tired of having their tails pulled." It comes out half jokingly.

"Once he knows you can and will bite back," Hannibal says, "he will rapidly lose interest in pestering you. Especially if there are no witnesses."

He sighs and drapes himself on the sofa, the towel falling open down the length of one milky thigh. "I wish I had your confidence."

"You do have the anger to drive it."