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Title: Scarlet Letter
Pairing: Hannibal Lecter/Will Graham
Table: Personal Challenge, 1drabble
Prompt: 4, Letter
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.
***Will sighed and closed his eyes, trying to make himself relax. He didn't want to be here, but the hospital was the only place where he could be treated for the encephalitis, so he didn't have much of a choice. Still, he felt uneasy and uncomfortable in this room.
He felt as though he was wearing a scarlet letter emblazoned on his forehead -- but instead of an "A," his letter was a big red "G." For gay.
Not that there was anything wrong with being gay, he told himself firmly. For most of his life, he'd tried to convince himself that he wasn't interested in men, only in women. He'd even reached out to women from time to time, even though he didn't really want them.
But he'd never been with any of them. That had told him a lot.
Even kissing a woman wasn't something that he liked. The one that he'd kissed recently had felt like a cold, dead corpse -- kissing her had been akin to kissing a slippery fish. It hadn't been pleasant at all, and he didn't want to repeat the experience.
Now, kissing Hannibal .... that was entirely different. It was as thought their two sets of lips had been meant to kiss each other; kissing Hannibal not only felt right to him, but it had been one of the most pleasurable experiences he'd ever had in his entire life.
That was, until they'd had sex. If he had thought the kissing was good, the sex had been mind-blowing. It was enough to convince him that he was most definitely gay, and not bisexual, as he'd wanted to believe. No, he was thoroughly gay. And Hannibal was his man.
Or was he Hannibal's? Will sighed, turning over restlessly and wishing that he could bury his face into the cool pillow and forget about this train of thought. It didn't really matter who belonged to who, or who needed the other more. What mattered was that everyone knew.
He would probably get the third degree when he went back to work.
If he went back to work, he thought with another sigh. At the moment, it didn't look like that was going to happen. There was no telling what these treatments would do to him -- he could lose the one ability that made him qualified to work as an FBI agent in the field.
If he did, then his life as he knew it would be over, and he'd have to start a new one, if he could. Not to mention that he would have to deal with that scarlet letter hanging over his head.
This probably wasn't the best time to think about the future, Will told himself, turning over onto his back and wishing that he could find a comfortable position. Enough time to think about that later, after he knew how this was all going to work out.
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