Title: Feels Like the Future
By: angstytimelord
Pairing: Will Graham/Sherlock Holmes
Fandom: Hannibal
Rating: PG-13
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.
***
He wanted to see Sherlock again.No, he didn't just want it -- he needed it, Will thought as he paced his small cell. He needed to have Sherlock in front of him again, talking to him, gesturing with those graceful hands, those pale eyes locking with his.
He hadn't been able to stop thinking of Sherlock during his waking hours, or dreaming of him at night. And those dreams had taken on a very sexual nature.
That bothered him somewhat; he'd never had dreams about anyone that were so vivid, so .... real. It had been as though Sherlock was there in the room with him, as though the man was a living, breathing being and not simply a wisp of a dream.
He wanted to grasp at that dream before it could escape, to hold on to it before it disappeared into the mists of the night before. But it was impossible.
It was hard to bring Sherlock's face into his mind, even though in dreams, he had no problem doing so. He was really starting to lose it if he couldn't remember what someone he'd seen only two days ago looked like, Will told himself ruefully.
He needed to look into those eyes again, to fix that face firmly in his mind's eye.
Was he only imagining that Sherlock was so handsome, so attractive? Was his memory going faulty just because he so desperately wanted and needed a friend?
No, friendship wasn't what he felt, he told himself. Sherlock made him feel as though his skin was too tight for his body, as though he wanted to leap out of that skin and wrap himself around the other man, as though he wanted to become part of Sherlock.
No, he didn't feel friendship. What he felt was good old-fashioned lust. He wanted Sherlock, and that in itself was almost frightening.
He had never wanted anyone before. Never.
The thought of being intimate with someone, with anyone, had always terrified him. He had always been so sure that he was destined to spend his life alone, that he didn't belong in a relationship. It was hard for him to even make friends, let alone consider physical intimacy.
But Sherlock made him want that. Sherlock had changed everything about the way he thought about being intimate, without even touching him.
All he'd had to do was look at Will, talk to him, and it felt as though the world had turned upside down and inside out. All he could think about was that deep, sexy voice, those slender, graceful hands, the way those lips had moved when Sherlock spoke.
Did he have a crush on this man? Was that it?
He didn't want to think of it as just a crush. He wanted to believe that it was something more, but he had no proof that Sherlock could have possibly felt the same way.
Sherlock made his senses come alive, made his body burn in a way that he most definitely wasn't used to. No one else had ever made him feel like that before -- and with nothing more than a glance, less than an hour of standing there talking to him.
There, Will told himself, staring at the chair outside of his cell. He'd been sitting there, gesturing, talking, only a few feet away.
So close -- and yet, still so far away. For a man who was behind bars and might be there for the rest of his life, a person on the other side was unreachable.
No, he wasn't going to be here for much longer, Will told himself, trying to keep his inner voice strong and firm. Sherlock would get him out of here. Sherlock would find a way to prove his innocence. Sherlock believed in him, even if no one else did.
Maybe that was why he felt so strongly for this man. Maybe it was only because Sherlock was willing to help him when no one else wanted to.
Will sighed softly, closing his eyes. No, it was more than that. Much more.
Who was he kidding? He wasn't just feeling a momentary lust. He could feel in his bones, in his heart, in his soul, that this was something meaningful. Something that could blossom and grow and last forever, if he could have the chance to make it begin.
Of course, he had no idea if Sherlock even liked men. There had been no indication of that; Sherlock might not even be gay. He might be repulsed by Will's feelings.
But Will didn't think so. There had been a kinship between them; he couldn't help feeling that Sherlock had been just as attracted to him, even though the other man hadn't shown him outwardly that he was. He could simply feel it.
There was a connection between them, one that ran deep and true.
Will couldn't say just how he knew that, but he did. It was something in the way that Sherlock had looked at him, the way that his voice had sounded.
There was something between them. What he felt wasn't just the result of an immediate physical attraction, just unbridled lust felt by a man who had been too long without contact. It was something that had hit him like running into a brick wall.
He had never felt anything like this before. And he was willing to bet that Sherlock hadn't, either, and that the other man was aching as much as he was.
The problem was having the ability to assuage that ache.
They'd never be able to be together unless Sherlock managed to find a way to get him out of here, to find the person who had so cleverly set him up. Will had his suspicions about who that person was, but he had no proof whatsoever to back them up.
If anyone could find that proof, it was Sherlock. He knew the other man's reputation; he had to trust that it was deserved, and that Sherlock could help him.
Will didn't know if this attraction would blossom into something more once Sherlock managed to get him out of here, but if it did, then he wouldn't turn it away. He desperately wanted that; he wanted to be with Sherlock, as more than merely friends.
But if it didn't happen, if Sherlock wasn't interested in him in that way, then at least he would have a friend. And he needed all the friends he could get.
He wanted Sherlock as more than a friend. It disconcerted him a little to think that he wanted this man as his lover, but that was the gist of it. That was something he'd have to take a while to wrap his head around. Though somehow, the thought didn't feel odd.
It felt right. And for some reason, it felt like his future.
***
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