Title: Feels Like Magic
By: angstytimelord
Pairing: Will Graham/Sherlock Holmes
Fandom: Hannibal
Rating: PG-13
Table: writers_choice
Prompt: #542, Magic
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.
***
"London," Will repeated, his voice thoughtful. "I'd never thought about living there."
But the more he considered Sherlock's idea, the more it seemed like a good one. What did he have left here in Wolf Trap, anyway? His career was destroyed, his reputation in tatters. Even though Sherlock had proven him innocent of murder, there would always be whispers.
People would always be suspicious of him. There would always be talk about him; he would never be fully accepted in society again.
Not that he cared about society, really. But he had to work, had to be productive, had to make a living. And now, thanks to the two men who had schemed to ruin his life, apparently just for their amusement, he was incapable of doing that here.
London definitely seemed like a good alternative.
And besides, in London, Sherlock would be there. He would be living in the same apartment with a very attractive man, a man who he was starting to develop feelings for.
That thought made his heart skip a beat. A few beats, if he was honest with himself. They had been here at his house for the past two days, simply relaxing and talking, and he had to admit that his attraction to Sherlock was growing much stronger.
It was exhilarating, almost frightening in a way. He'd never been this attracted to anyone before; he almost felt giddy with desire whenever he looked at Sherlock.
He hadn't expected that. He hadn't been looking for love.
Was this something he could call love? It was like a magical spell between the two of them, a web that was being woven to encompass them both and draw them towards each other. Will could already feel himself caught up in that web.
This was completely unexpected, out of the blue. But he didn't want to turn away from the feeling that was growing inside him, a feeling of warmth and safety.
No one else had ever made him feel like this. And he'd never been so attracted to another person. He'd never wanted to be with someone the way he wanted to be with Sherlock. It was as though there was something inevitable about their meeting and coming together.
Fate. Kismet. Meant to be. Written in the stars.
No matter what phrase he used for it, Will had to admit that there was something between them that he had no wish to fight, something that he wanted to give himself over to.
He'd never met anyone like Sherlock before. Not only was the man stunningly attractive, he was also the most intelligent person Will had ever known. He was a fascinating man, with many facets to his personality -- and Will wanted to discover them all.
In the past two days, he'd opened up to Sherlock so much, told him things about himself that he had never discussed with another living soul.
Sherlock knew about his drunken, abusive father, how miserable he'd been in high school; Sherlock knew all about how he'd struggled to come out.
Sherlock knew about his time on the police force in New Orleans, how he'd come to be with the FBI, how he had moved from merely teaching to using his empathic ability in the field. Sherlock knew all about his uneasy partnership with Hannibal Lecter and Jack Crawford.
This man knew more about him than anyone ever had. Sherlock might not know him completely yet, but he had a better picture of Will than anyone else had ever gotten.
And strangely enough, he felt comfortable with that.
Sherlock was the one person he'd ever felt comfortable enough with to talk about his past. Even in his many psychiatric sessions with Hannibal, he'd never gotten into that. Some part of him had known not to trust Hannibal, known to keep some things from him.
But Hannibal had never exercised this magic over him that Sherlock did. He'd never felt this way about the man who had once been his friend.
He had never wanted Hannibal. He'd often wondered what it would be like to be involved with such a man, but that was before he had realized how devious Hannibal was -- and how dangerous the other man was to his well-being and even his sanity.
With Sherlock, everything was different.
There was no need to dissemble with Sherlock, no need to hide anything. He knew that he could trust this man with anything. Sherlock would never betray him.
No, Sherlock would keep him safe. After all, he was the man who had gotten Will out of jail, who had proven him innocent when no one else had cared enough to even try. Sherlock was the one person who had believed in him when everyone else had turned their backs.
Sherlock was the man who had never given up on him. And that, in itself, was a kind of magic. Will owed him so much, more than he could ever repay.
And now, he would owe Sherlock even more.
This was an entirely new life that Sherlock was offering him. A new start, away from all the things that had made him unable to continue his life here as it had been. It would be a new beginning, which was something he desperately needed at this point in his life.
"London," Sherlock said, reaching out to take Will's hand and bringing the younger man back to the present moment. "It would be good for you, Will. I know it would."
Will's gaze met Sherlock's, and he could read what the other man wasn't saying. I would be good for you, too. He knew that was true. Sherlock would be good for him. And maybe, just maybe, he would be good for Sherlock as well.
Maybe he would give the other man something that he needed.
The only way they would ever know was to give it a try. If things didn't work out .... well, then he would cross that bridge when he came to it.
"Then I guess you've got a roommate," Will told Sherlock, squeezing his hand gently. That touch gave him hope; suddenly, he could feel his heart lifting, his spirits soaring. What was this magical effect that Sherlock had on him? No one else could ever do this.
He was happy, for the first time in what felt like ages. He was smiling, and he was actually looking forward to the next days, weeks, months, even years.
More than ever, this felt like magic.
***
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