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Title: Outside the Window
By: angstytimelord
Pairing: Will Graham/Sherlock Holmes
Fandom: Hannibal/Sherlock
Rating: PG-13
Table: writers_choice
Prompt: #17, Other side of the window
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.

***

This was it. They were home. Their home.

Sherlock sighed happily as he leaned back on the couch, letting himself relax. Will seemed to love the flat; he was already unpacking, and he seemed to be at home here, just as Sherlock had hoped he would be. Even Winston seemed to be at home and happy.

The dog was sitting in his dog bed next to the fireplace, and Sherlock couldn't help but feel that somehow, he belonged here, as though this had always been his home.

Was that something that had been missing from the flat before? A dog? No, it wasn't something that simple; it was more. There had been a presence missing, Will's presence. The presence of someone he loved and wanted to spend his life with.

He'd had a roommate before, but that hadn't been a romantic involvement. It had been a friendship, nothing more, and one that had eventually fallen apart.

If there had been any romantic feelings there, they hadn't been on his side. But now .... his heart seemed to be filled to overflowing with romantic feelings. He couldn't look at Will and not want to kiss him, or take him into his arms and hold him.

Was that normal? Did everyone feel that way about their significant others?

It didn't really matter whether they did or not, Sherlock told himself with a smile. All that mattered was how he and Will felt about each other.

For the first time in his life, he felt as though he belonged. He had spent his life feeling like that child who was always on the outside looking in, pressing his face to the window and seeing the happiness within, but never being a part of it.

Now, he had that happiness for his own, and he didn't intend to let go of it. He was no longer on the other side of the window, outside of all the light and joy.

Well, now that light and joy belonged to him, and he intended to bask in it. He hoped that Will felt the same way; as far as he could tell, his boyfriend had always been on the other side of the window, as well. He and Sherlock had dealt with many of the same experiences.

it hurt him to think that anyone could have rejected Will in the way that he himself had experienced so many times. But then, most people were idiots.

How could anyone not want Will? He was so incredibly beautiful.

He couldn't look at Will without wanting him. It was an odd sensation, to know that he desired someone. It was something he'd never felt before.

Or had he only not let himself feel it? Sherlock mused. He might have been able to desire someone before, but he'd simply turned away from those sorts of feelings, refusing to let himself admit that he was susceptible to them.

He'd never wanted to desire anyone before. He'd never wanted to let emotions get in the way. They were, as he'd so often said, not an advantage.

But he hadn't been able to stop himself. The moment he had seen Will, something that clicked inside him, and his heart had turned over. He would no more have been able to stop himself from falling head over heels that he would be able to stop breathing.

And now, miracle of miracles, Will was here in the flat, living with him. All of his belongings that they had decided to have shipped over wouldn't be here for another week or so, but that didn't matter. He had what was most important to him here already.

He was no longer that lonely child on the outside looking in, Sherlock told himself. He no longer had his face pressed to the window, wanting what he couldn't have.

Had Will felt that way, too? Had he been the lonely child, the outsider who never fit in, always feeling as if he was on the outside looking in and would never be able to embrace that light and joy? If so, then Sherlock was even more glad that they'd found each other.

He couldn't bear the idea of his beloved Will ever feeling lonely or unwanted. He would make sure that Will knew he was loved and desired, every day for the rest of their lives.

And he would feel the same way.

He knew that he'd be happy for the rest of his life with Will by his side. How could he not be? He would be with the man he loved.

Maybe their relationship wouldn't always be easy, Sherlock reflected. He supposed that they would have some arguments; all couples seemed to have disagreements, and he didn't doubt that he and Will would be any different. They wouldn't agree all the time.

But that would be dreadfully boring, he thought with a smile. A little disagreement now and then would add a bit of spice to their relationship.

As long as the disagreements weren't serious ones, they would more than likely be good for the continuity of their relationship. No couple could ever go without arguing, as far as he knew; if they did, then that meant they were slipping into apathy.

Sherlock never wanted his relationship with Will to be like that. If they argued, it meant that they cared passionately about what they shared.

He wouldn't let them take it for granted. Not ever.

Will came down the stairs from the second bedroom, looking around him with a smile on his face. "This is even better than I thought it would be," he said softly, moving to the couch and sitting beside Sherlock. "I love it here, Sherlock. It's great."

"I'm glad to hear you say that," Sherlock said softly, taking his hand and squeezing it gently. "I want this to be a good life for you, Will. For us."

"It will be," Will answered, his voice equally soft. "I've known it ever since we stepped off the plane. I don't feel like an outsider here, like I have to work to fit in. I expected that. But it doesn't feel that way. It already feels like I belong. Like I've always belonged here."

"You do," Sherlock told him, a lump forming in his throat. It was amazing how Will and he always seemed to think along the same lines. "And you always will."

Neither of them would have to be those lonely children who had stood outside the window any longer. They had both found where they belonged, both come inside to the warmth and love and laughter and joy that they had always wanted and had never managed to find until now.

And with any luck, Sherlock thought as he twined his fingers through Will's, they would stay there.

***