Title: Not Only A Friend
Author: angstytimelord
Pairing: Will Graham/Sherlock Holmes
Fandoms: Hannibal/Sherlock
Rating: PG-13
Table: 61, 5_prompts
Prompt: 1, Just try to concentrate
Disclaimer: This is entirely a product of my imagination, and I make no profit from it. I do not own the lovely Will Graham or Sherlock Holmes, unfortunately, just borrowing them for a while. Please do not sue.


Sherlock put the book he was reading down, sighing softly and leaning his head back against the couch cushions. He assumed that Will had already gone to bed; the younger man had been upstairs for a while, and he'd looked tired.

He himself was wide awake; he didn't sleep much, and he doubted that he would sleep at all tonight. Maybe a couple of hours, but not much more than that.

He couldn't concentrate on the book; he couldn't think of anything other than the man who was upstairs, the man who he wanted to be here on the couch, in his arms, in his embrace. The man he wanted to hold, to kiss, to be close to. The man who had become his obsession.

That thought made Sherlock's pale eyes open wide.

Was he obsessed with Will? He didn't like to use that word; it made him think of Moriarty, and that man's perverted obsession with him.

And it also made him think of Hannibal Lecter, and his peculiar obsession with Will. An obsession that had led him to frame Will for murder, to make sure that Will was behind bars so he could be controlled and observed, so he could be slowly driven mad.

The thought of what Lecter had done to Will made Sherlock clench his fists in anger; he hated to think of it, hated to know that Will had been treated so horribly.

And by someone who he'd mistakenly thought was a friend. Sherlock had been treated badly by a few people in the past he'd thought were friends; he had done with friendship, swearing off it for the rest of his life. He'd thought that he would leave all human relationships behind.

But Will had changed his mind. The attraction had been so instantaneous that he'd known he couldn't live without having this man by his side.

Though not merely as a friend. As much, much more.

He wanted to be Will's lover. He'd admitted that much to himself after the second time they had met, when he hadn't been able to take his eyes off the younger man. He might have even felt that way at their first meeting, when the attraction had first grabbed him.

Sherlock sighed, opening his eyes and staring up at the ceiling. He had never felt that way about anyone before. He had never wanted anyone before.

He had always thought that he could live without sex, without love. It had never seemed to matter all that much; if he needed sexual relief at times, well, he always had his hand. He'd made do with it over the years, and he saw no reason not to keep doing so.

It had never occurred to him that he would ever want more.

But now, he did. He wanted Will Graham with the keen intensity of a knife edge; he wanted Will with all of his heart and soul, as well as his body.

That desire had overtaken him when he'd least expected it to, spinning him around until he was gasping and didn't know which way was up. That desire had turned him upside down and inside out, made it nearly impossible to concentrate on anything.

When Will was near, all he could concentrate on was how much he wanted to take the young man into his arms and kiss him -- and how much he wanted to be kissed.

He loved the feeling of Will's lips under his own, of that slender body yielding in his arms. And he loved how those strong arms felt around him.

Sherlock was sure that when they came to the point of consummating their relationship in the physical sense, neither he nor Will would be in any assigned role. they would simply follow their hearts, and do what they felt was right for both of them.

There was no top, no bottom, no dominant or submissive. There were only two men who cared for each other, and wanted each other with a burning intensity.

Yes, he wanted Will, as he had never thought he could want anyone.

How was it possible for him, the man who had thought that he could happily live out his life without any kind of sexual involvement, to want someone this much? How had the floodgates broken so quickly with only one look at the man he had fallen so hard and fast for?

Sherlock didn't have the answer to that question, but then, he didn't need an answer. It was enough for him to know that this desire existed within him.

it was a desire that he only wanted to fan the flames of, a desire that he wanted to explore to the fullest. He had never thought himself capable of feeling like this, and he had always thought that if he did ever experience such a strong desire, he would be frightened of it.

But he wasn't. He wasn't afraid at all. Not in any way.

He'd never thought this would happen to him. He'd never thought that he would feel such a primitive desire, such a need to make someone else his.

And along with that, he'd never thought that he would experience such a strong need to be someone else's, to let another person take him over, body and heart and soul. But Will had done so; he had given himself over to this man, and he had no regrets.

Why should he regret anything? Sherlock asked himself with a smile. He was doing exactly what he wanted to do. He was going into this with his eyes wide open.

There was nothing to regret, nothing to fear. This was a natural step forward in his life; even though he had never planned on falling in love, now that it had happened, he wasn't going to turn away. He was going to let himself embrace that love, to revel in it.

He couldn't concentrate on anything but that love, couldn't focus anything but Will. No matter how hard he tried to concentrate on other things, when Will was near, he filled Sherlock's world.

That might make living together a little difficult at first, he thought with a sigh.

But they would get past that. They would overcome whatever difficulties might be thrown into their path, and they would carve out a life for themselves. A good life, a life that they would both embrace. And they would be happy. He was absolutely sure of that.

How could he not be happy with a man like Will by his side? The man he loved, the man he wanted, the man who filled his life and his heart.

A small smile played over Sherlock's lips as he lifted his head from the cushions -- and there, standing on the steps in front of him, was Will, as though Sherlock's thoughts had conjured him up by magic. Without a word, Sherlock held out his arms, his smile broadening and his heart leaping with joy.