Updated Multi Fandom Drabbles - Galavant (98/101)

[stephab13]

Oh my dear Lord, how have I missed all of these?! Hannibal... Avengers... Arrow...

*melts*

[evermissing]

Hnnnngh okay.

First off: I always do a little happy dance (literally; I sort of wiggle in my seat) when I see that you've updated this thread, especially with Hannibal stuff. And I think you're the first person to write a drabble with Bedelia as the focus, which is AWESOME because she is yet another of the many, many characters on the show that I really like. I love how controlled she is, even at a disadvantage like this: her stifled sneezes, her caution. That control is a big part of why she feels like Hannibal's equal on the show, why you can believe that he respects her and that she can handle him, and you did a great job of showing that here.

And then secondly... I've been meaning to watch The Good Wife since forever, both because it's been recommended to me many times by people whose taste I respect and because I'm a big fan of a lot of the cast. And, um. Just tell me this. Will is the Josh Charles character, isn't he? Google confirms this. This may be the tipping point in getting me to watch the show, because I want an even better visual to go along with this drabble, because hjnsdfnjgjjg Josh Charles.

[evermissing]

Oh, also:

It probably would have been transcendently beautiful in its awkwardness. (Oh why does Will suffer so beautifully?)

Haha, well, yes, exactly. I've always kind of wanted that story, where Hannibal finally prevails upon Will to attend one of his dinner parties and it's extremely, beautifully awkward. Because I am sick in the head that way.

[Bruyere]

@Garnet - Thanks! I'd been procrastinating on that drabble since the end of series 1 (some sort of record, surely?) but it was that episode that made me finish it.

@stephab13 - I am so happy there's another Arrow fan around here! Glad you liked the drabbles!

@evermissing - Aww! Thank you so much. Bedelia is such a great character and I think Gillian Anderson does such a great job with her and I'm glad that this worked for you.

Yes, Josh Charles plays Will. And oh, yes, you should start watching The Good Wife! It's definitely a procedural (case of the week) sort of drama but there are so many great moments around those cases. It's also good at covering larger issues and has one of the best larger universes (the supporting cast playing other lawyers, clients, politicians and judges is frankly unparalleled on TV at the moment) in a current show. It has its weaker moments but the payoff in the current series is brilliant. Josh Charles and Julianna Marguiles are superb. There's actually an episode in series 4 where they're both sick and sneeze (slightly disappointing imo) because they kissed at the end of the previous episode. It's crying out for a missing scene/fill in the gaps fanfic really...

....Ahem, anyway, it's a good show and definitely worth a look.

1 - Kink :: 2 - Science Fiction :: 3 - Frightened :: 4 - Fake :: 5 – Pencil :: 6 – Squint :: 7 – Misplaced :: 8 – Joy :: 9 - Touched :: 10 – Cough :: 11 – Hot/Cold :: 12 – Sin :: 13 – Care :: 14 – Frail :: 15 – The End :: 16 – Three :: 17 – Never :: 18 – Midnight :: 19 – Promise :: 20 – Fight :: 21 – Pollen :: 22 – Embarrassment :: 23 – Alcohol :: 24 – Mask :: 25 – Mistake :: 26 – Suspicion :: 27 – Disagreement :: 28 – Assignment :: 29 – Purple :: 30 – June :: 31 – Calculating :: 32 – Fall :: 33 – Cry :: 34 – Relief :: 35 – Breath :: 36 – Miserable :: 37 – Chocolate :: 38 – Violent :: 39 – Muffle :: 40 – Swift :: 41 – Run :: 42 – Poison :: 43 – Contagion :: 44 – Tissue :: 45 – Sore :: 46 – Enraptured :: 47 – Wary :: 48 – Pathetic :: 49 – Sweat :: 50 – Gentle :: 51 – Milk :: 52 – Ravenous :: 53 – Blanket :: 54 – Needles :: 55a – Sports :: 55b – Ruin :: 56 – Lovely :: 57 – Hospital ::58 – Annoying :: 59 – Mother :: 60 – Bike :: 61 – Idiot :: 62 – Puppy :: 63 – Control :: 64 – Unfair :: 65 – Similarities :: 66 – Raincoat :: 67 – Worship :: 68 – Attitude :: 69 – Fuck :: 70 – Confession :: 71 – Floor :: 72 – Remedy :: 73 – Don’t :: 74 – Ego :: 75 – Heartless :: 76 – Lullaby :: 77 – Secret :: 78 – Shut Up :: 79 – Music :: 80 – Grudge :: 81 – Solitude :: 82 – Magic :: 83 – Dirty :: 84 – City :: 85 – Teacher :: 86 – Sky :: 87 – Hypocrite :: 88 – Tattoo :: 89 – Money :: 90 – Childhood :: 91 – Goodbye :: 92 – Victory :: 93 – Weather :: 94 – Photo :: 95 – Rage :: 96 – Internet :: 97 – Fashion :: 98 – Favor :: 99 – Lazy :: 100 – Airplane

Fandoms: Hannibal, The Man from U.N.C.L.E., Marvel's Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. Rizzoli & Isles,

Warnings: None

86 – Sky, Hannibal NBC, Will, Gen

It’s a clear night and the sky is ink black. Will names the constellations as he walks, Winston at his side. He hasn’t been out for long before the cold air makes his nose run and he starts snuffling his way through the handful of Kleenex he’d shoved into his pockets on his way out.

Eventually, the congestion shifts and starts to ease and his headache begins to recede slightly. Of course, then he starts sneezing instead. Winston barks at the sudden, loud interruptions to their moonlit, midnight walk and Will reassures him in a hoarse voice, fingers buried into Winston’s coat, that he’s okay.

55b – Ruin, The Man From U.N.C.L.E., Napoleon Solo, Illya Kuryakin, Gen

His expensive suit jacket was torn from the struggle with a THRUSH agent and soaked with silty water and clay from when he’d been thrown into the river.

“I’m not sure even Del Floria will be able to save that,” said Illya, almost apologetically.

“I think you’re probably right,” Napoleon replied, stripping it off and dumping it on the muddy riverbank. He turned away from Illya sneezing into the crook of his arm. “Eshoo! Heh-esshoo!”

“Bless you.” Illya offered him a clean, dry handkerchief from his pocket.

“Thadks.” Perhaps next time he was feeling unwell he’d just take the day off as Illya had suggested.

100 – Airplane, Marvel’s Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D., Melinda May, Coulson, Gen

One of the disadvantages of being on the plane the whole time is that there’s nowhere to escape to when she gets sick. May can’t stand being cooped up in her tiny cabin and as helpful as Ward’s trying to be, bringing tea, tissues and pills, she just wants some quiet.

She retreats to the cockpit but she’s not surprised when Coulson appears.

The plane’s set on autopilot and she’s working her way through another fit of ticklish cold sneezes as he enters but the only comment he makes as he eases into the co-pilot’s seat is, “Peaceful up here, isn’t it?”

41 – Run, Rizzoli & Isles

“Hey,” said Jane as Maura opened the door, “I thought we were going running this morning…”

“Eshuhhh! Eshuhhh! Heshuhhh!”

“Wow, gesundheit! You sound terrible.” She ushered Maura inside and sat her down on the couch.

“Sorry, I overslept. I should have called.”

Jane rubbed Maura’s back. “Hey, it’s okay. You’re sick, we can skip running today.”

“Actually,” Maura paused to clear her throat, “research shows that moderate exercise-”

Jane groaned. “Why don’t we ignore what ‘the research shows’ and I’ll make you tea while you sit there and relax?”

“Hehh, ehhh, Eshuhhh! Eshuhh!” Maura blew her nose. “Maybe that would be for the best.”

55a – Sports, Rizzoli & Isles

“Oh cobe od!” Jane yelled at the screen, slapping the couch in frustration at the umpire’s latest decision before succumbing to another round of violent coughing.

“Jane,” Maura’s voice warned from the kitchen.

“I’b resting.” She pulled the blanket up around her in an attempt to look contrite.

“We made a deal with your mother.”

Jane rolled her eyes and muttered, “I cad’t believe she did that. I cad’t believe you did that.” Joe Friday snorted in agreement. Jane smiled and scratched his ears. “It’s good to know someone around here’s got my bahh- back Itschh! Huh-tschh!”

“Gesundheit!”

[evermissing]

OH HI MORE BRUYERE DRABBLES.

Josh Charles and Julianna Marguiles are superb. There's actually an episode in series 4 where they're both sick and sneeze (slightly disappointing imo) because they kissed at the end of the previous episode. It's crying out for a missing scene/fill in the gaps fanfic really...

ffhufjfdhjfdhfhfdhu

Yeah, no, definitely have to watch this, aside from all the slightly more... intellectual... reasons to do so. I mean, omg, not only Julianna Margulies (who has a creepily unerring tendency to costar in shows with some of my other favorite actors) implicitly gettin' it on with Josh Charles, but also BOTH OF THEM SNEEZING. Even if it is disappointing. ANYTHING WOULD BE DISAPPOINTING COMPARED TO MY MENTAL IMAGE OF THIS.

aaanyway, the new drabble! I just love Will and the special, insular relationship he has with his dogs, and how they--especially Winston--so clearly try to look out for him the best they can, so this snippet hits allll my buttons. Oh, Will. Oh, Winston. <3

[stephab13]

You know what else amazes me? That these are so... short and concise and full. It really amazes me when people can take just those few words and instantly create atmosphere and have us seeing whatever the hell they want us to. As opposed to my ridiculous waffling

.... We need to get more Arrow out there. I don't even know how to make this happen but it should!

[Bruyere]

@evermissing I'm glad you liked it!

@stephab13 Thank you, I'm never sure if what I have in my head really translates in such a short number of words so it's good to know it does I definitely want to write more Arrow in the future too!

1 - Kink :: 2 - Science Fiction :: 3 - Frightened :: 4 - Fake :: 5 – Pencil :: 6 – Squint :: 7 – Misplaced :: 8 – Joy :: 9 - Touched :: 10 – Cough :: 11 – Hot/Cold :: 12 – Sin :: 13 – Care :: 14 – Frail :: 15 – The End :: 16 – Three :: 17 – Never :: 18 – Midnight :: 19 – Promise :: 20 – Fight :: 21 – Pollen :: 22 – Embarrassment :: 23 – Alcohol :: 24 – Mask :: 25 – Mistake :: 26 – Suspicion :: 27 – Disagreement :: 28 – Assignment :: 29 – Purple :: 30 – June :: 31 – Calculating :: 32 – Fall :: 33 – Cry :: 34 – Relief :: 35 – Breath :: 36 – Miserable :: 37 – Chocolate :: 38 – Violent :: 39 – Muffle :: 40 – Swift :: 41 – Run :: 42 – Poison :: 43 – Contagion :: 44 – Tissue :: 45 – Sore :: 46 – Enraptured :: 47 – Wary :: 48 – Pathetic :: 49 – Sweat :: 50 – Gentle :: 51 – Milk :: 52 – Ravenous :: 53 – Blanket :: 54 – Needles :: 55a – Sports :: 55b – Ruin :: 56 – Lovely :: 57 – Hospital ::58 – Annoying :: 59 – Mother :: 60 – Bike :: 61 – Idiot :: 62 – Puppy :: 63 – Control :: 64 – Unfair :: 65 – Similarities :: 66 – Raincoat :: 67 – Worship :: 68 – Attitude :: 69 – Fuck :: 70 – Confession :: 71 – Floor :: 72 – Remedy :: 73 – Don’t :: 74 – Ego :: 75 – Heartless :: 76 – Lullaby :: 77 – Secret :: 78 – Shut Up :: 79 – Music :: 80 – Grudge :: 81 – Solitude :: 82 – Magic :: 83 – Dirty :: 84 – City :: 85 – Teacher :: 86 – Sky :: 87 – Hypocrite :: 88 – Tattoo :: 89 – Money :: 90 – Childhood :: 91 – Goodbye :: 92 – Victory :: 93 – Weather :: 94 – Photo :: 95 – Rage :: 96 – Internet :: 97 – Fashion :: 98 – Favor :: 99 – Lazy :: 100 – Airplane

Fandoms: Star Trek XI, Arrow, Hannibal

Warnings: Vaguely spoiler-y for mid-late S2 Hannibal

87 – Hypocrite - Star Trek XI

Follows on from 26 - Suspicion

Uhura sits up in bed, indignant. “You’re going on shift but I’m still too sick? That’s ridiculous, you’re-” It catches in her throat and she starts coughing. It takes longer than it should for the coughing to subside and when it does she’s wiping tears from her eyes.

“Nyota,” Spock begins in one of his cool, calm, logical tones that infuriate her. “You’ve had a fever for two days.”

“But it’s gone now.” She’s embarrassed that it comes out as a whine.

“The Captain will tell you the same thi- ihhitschuhhh! Thing.”

“And what do you think he’ll say to you?”

12 – Sin, Arrow, Sara Lance, Sin, Gen

Sin nudged Sara’s sleeping form with the toe of her boot. “Hey, wake up! I bought you soup.”

Sara stirred slowly, blinked at Sin and groaned before sitting up. “Thanks.”

“Tea as well.” Sin placed the cup by Sara’s side then settled next to her.

“No coffee?”

“No coffee til you’re better,” Sin confirmed.

Sara grumbled as she pulled the lid off the styrofoam cup and sipped at the soup. “I haven’t had this in a while,” she murmured.

“Soup?”

“Someone taking … heh, tschh-huh! Urgh. Taking care of me- tschhh-huh!”

“Bless you. We look out for each other, right?”

Sara smiled. “Right.”

44 – Tissue, Hannibal, Will, Gen

Note -Set roughly around episodes 8-9 of series 2

Will was almost out the door on the way to one of the crime scenes that Jack had specially vetted for him and Hannibal when he was caught off guard by a jack-knifing “Ishuhh!” He smothered it into the sleeve of his new winter coat, the wool rough against his nose and waited for a beat until a second, more insistent sneeze followed. “Etschuhh!”

Sighing, he retreated back into the house; a word of caution to the two optimistic dogs trailing him with cheerful wagging tails, clearly hoping that he’d changed his mind and was staying at home. If only.

He plucked a couple of Kleenex from the box and blew his nose thoroughly, only pausing to sneeze again, an irrepressible “Haetschoo!” that pulled uncomfortably at his throat and left him coughing.

He sniffled heavily and sighed. On the plus side he didn’t actually feel too bad despite the cold that had been plaguing him for the past few days. On the downside, that might have been because nothing felt bad compared to the encephalitis of last year. Anyway, Jack wasn’t going to let him call in sick because of a mere cold, not when the Chesapeake ripper had yet to be snared.

He pulled a handful of Kleenex out of the box, preparing to stuff his pockets with them and head out to make the best of the day until another sneeze overtook him, snapping him forward, “Etschuhh!” Urgh.

Will smoothed a curl, shaken loose by the sneezing, back into place. Better. He had appearances to maintain.

As he put himself back in order he caught sight of his reflection in the mirror. It was an odd sensation. Not like when he’d previously been sick and it was as though he'd been looking through himself, a reflection of distorted shapes and visible neuroses that he'd doubted had made him a person. This was more like seeing an icon of himself, carefully constructed and assembled, with love in the artist’s hand but still… off, somehow. A copy of a copy. Too many lines erased from his forehead; a nose that was too straight; eyes that could see but remained impassive to what they viewed. Now, he was cast in his creator’s image.

He hesitated then stuffed the tissues back into the box. Reluctant as he was to abandon them, there was no point in wandering around with pockets stuffed with tissues when a handkerchief would be a far more elegant element of design. It would be like framing a fine painting with something bought from a drugstore; a careless, thoughtless final touch.

Will made his way into his bedroom and searched through one drawer in vain before finding two handkerchiefs in the next, plain white and a navy blue check, both in cotton and reasonably well pressed. Neither of them were quite as elegant as Dr Lecter’s silk squares but they presented a far better option than tissues.

Hoping that two handkerchiefs would be sufficient to see him through the day Will slipped them into his coat pocket, bade a final farewell to his dogs and trudged towards another day of murder tableaux.

[Garnet]

Nnnnh dat Will drabble The best.

He plucked a couple of Kleenex from the box and blew his nose thoroughly, only pausing to sneeze again, an irrepressible “Haetschoo!” that pulled uncomfortably at his throat and left him coughing.

Urgh, good description, I know exactly the kind of sneeze you're talking about. Poor baby

This was more like seeing an icon of himself, carefully constructed and assembled, with love in the artist’s hand but still… off, somehow. A copy of a copy. Too many lines erased from his forehead; a nose that was too straight; eyes that could see but remained impassive to what they viewed. Now, he was cast in his creator’s image.

And this whole section and the theme of the lines that follow is beautiful. One of the things I loved about this season was seeing that way Hannibal's influence shaped him even unintentionally, even in the ways that Will didn't purposefully intend for him to see reflected. This is an excellent glimpse into a psyche that's spent too much time in Hannibal's mindset.

[fraggle]

58 – Annoying - Graceland, gen, Mike

He feels like the stupid kid brother tagging around with Briggs and Johnny. Nothing in the Academy's prepared him for this. It's made worse when he catches cold a few weeks after arriving. Who goes to California and catches cold anyway?

He starts sneezing, the odd single in the morning that comes with a tickle that means more aren't far behind. Mid-afternoon and he's stretched out on the couch with a box of kleenex. By the time everyone else gets home in the evening he's retreated to bed.

"Sorry I got sick," he says to Briggs.

Briggs shrugs. "You can't help it."

You wrote Graceland?! With Mike sick?! I love you!!

[Winged]

Ooh, Agents of SHIELD! What a lovely surprise Keep up the good work!

[Bruyere]

@Garnet - Thank you! I'm so glad that it worked for you. And yes, I think that Will was influenced by Hannibal more than he probably realised this season. I hope that, amongst all the other fallout from the finale, we see him sorting through that in the next series. And maybe even being able to use it against Hannibal?

@Fraggle - Yes! Graceland was one of my Summer shows and I'm so glad it's back already. I realise though that I've made a gross error and didn't actually have anyone sneeze in any of the drabbles. Oops?! Now that it's back and I've got a fresh source of inspiration I think I'll have to try and fix that.

@Winged- Thanks. I went from ambivalent about SHIELD (mostly I was disappointed about how they squandered a good concept for about 2/3rds of the series) to Hell, yeah and I am in love with May so there'll probably be more of her at some point.

[Anonymouse]

I am also Hell yeah! about AoS (one of those rare shows where I absolutely LOVE every single main character to pieces, minus Ward now for being a bitch) and I fully support more AoS fic. Very cute lil drabble.

[fraggle]

@Fraggle - Yes! Graceland was one of my Summer shows and I'm so glad it's back already. I realise though that I've made a gross error and didn't actually have anyone sneeze in any of the drabbles. Oops?! Now that it's back and I've got a fresh source of inspiration I think I'll have to try and fix that.

Whoop! Can't wait

[Bruyere]

1 - Kink :: 2 - Science Fiction :: 3 - Frightened :: 4 - Fake :: 5 – Pencil :: 6 – Squint :: 7 – Misplaced :: 8 – Joy :: 9 - Touched :: 10 – Cough :: 11 – Hot/Cold :: 12 – Sin :: 13 – Care :: 14 – Frail :: 15 – The End :: 16 – Three :: 17 – Never :: 18 – Midnight :: 19 – Promise :: 20 – Fight :: 21 – Pollen :: 22 – Embarrassment :: 23 – Alcohol :: 24 – Mask :: 25 – Mistake :: 26 – Suspicion :: 27 – Disagreement :: 28 – Assignment :: 29 – Purple :: 30 – June :: 31 – Calculating :: 32 – Fall :: 33 – Cry :: 34 – Relief :: 35 – Breath :: 36 – Miserable :: 37 – Chocolate :: 38 – Violent :: 39 – Muffle :: 40 – Swift :: 41 – Run :: 42 – Poison :: 43 – Contagion :: 44 – Tissue :: 45 – Sore :: 46 – Enraptured :: 47 – Wary :: 48 – Pathetic :: 49 – Sweat :: 50 – Gentle :: 51 – Milk :: 52 – Ravenous :: 53 – Blanket :: 54 – Needles :: 55a – Sports :: 55b – Ruin :: 56 – Lovely :: 57 – Hospital ::58 – Annoying :: 59 – Mother :: 60 – Bike :: 61 – Idiot :: 62 – Puppy :: 63 – Control :: 64 – Unfair :: 65 – Similarities :: 66 – Raincoat :: 67 – Worship :: 68 – Attitude :: 69 – Fuck :: 70 – Confession :: 71 – Floor :: 72 – Remedy :: 73 – Don’t :: 74 – Ego :: 75 – Heartless :: 76 – Lullaby :: 77 – Secret :: 78 – Shut Up :: 79 – Music :: 80 – Grudge :: 81 – Solitude :: 82 – Magic :: 83 – Dirty :: 84 – City :: 85 – Teacher :: 86 – Sky :: 87 – Hypocrite :: 88 – Tattoo :: 89 – Money :: 90 – Childhood :: 91 – Goodbye :: 92 – Victory :: 93 – Weather :: 94 – Photo :: 95 – Rage :: 96 – Internet :: 97 – Fashion :: 98 – Favor :: 99 – Lazy :: 100 – Airplane

Fandoms: Arrow

Warnings: None.

50 – Gentle - Arrow

Clearly not a drabble but it’s here anyway, so. Oneshot? Also, this is ridiculously self-indulgent. Sorrynotsorry.

Characters: Oliver Queen, Felicity Smoak, John Diggle

“How’s Digg doing?” Oliver croaked.

“Good. He’s got the dealer in sight and he’s following him to the drop-off point.” Felicity swivelled her chair away from her desk and computer screens. “You’re supposed to be sleeping.”

“I cad’t sleeb,” he said and lowered himself carefully into the empty chair next to Felicity’s. She frowned and he added defensively, “I tried but I cad’t breathe.”

“You still won’t take anything?”

Oliver shook his head. “If Digg deeds be thed I-” He broke off to sneeze into a crumpled tissue. “Heh-Kksshh! Kkrrshhhh!” He coughed and wiped his pink nose in the tissue, the sneezing not having done anything to ease the congestion.

Felicity thought that was proof enough that Digg would be more likely to call Moira Queen for help tonight than bother her and Oliver but decided it might be wiser not to say so. Instead she pulled a small blue pot from her purse and said, “I picked this up earlier, I thought it might help.”

Oliver raised an eyebrow.

“Vicks,” she said, “It’ll help you breathe.”

“I know whad id is,” he snapped.

Felicity bit down on the smile that threatened and examined him. He looked miserable. There were tight lines around his eyes and he kept squinting as though he had a headache. His freckles were hidden under the flush of a fever and he kept rubbing a hand across his chest as though it were bothering him. He hadn’t looked so miserable when he’d been shot. God, she hoped this wasn’t anything more than a bad cold. She and Digg would probably have to tranq him to get him in front of a doctor. Well, Digg would have to stick a tranq dart in him; she’d have to be bait. And Felicity really didn’t want to be bait.

“Take your top off,” she said, rising from her chair.

He coughed in surprise.

“I’m not looking for the chance to admire you topless. I mean, not that isn’t nice but-”

“Felicity.”

“Yes, uh, okay, anyway no matter how flexible you are-” Oliver coughed again and she cringed as her brain caught up with her mouth before continuing, “Not that I think about how flexible you are but you know, you do work out here a lot and-”

“Felicity.”

“Right, um, I don’t think you can reach all of your back, so if you take your shirt off I’ll help. Okay?” The words tumbled out so fast that it was a wonder he understood them but he just sighed and rose from his chair before removing his tee-shirt. Felicity unscrewed the pot and handed it to Oliver, taking a small amount to work across his back. She’d seen him shirtless many times and had been close to him before but this was different. She worked the Vicks across his back, fingers treading lightly over still vivid pink raised ridges and tight white pockets of scarred skin. He didn’t talk about it and she knew better than to ask. She made a final sweep across his back and he sighed as she drew her hand away. She’d expected him to put the Vicks on his chest himself but he remained motionless after she’d finished. She tapped him on the shoulder, “Oliver?”

He turned to face her, blinking drowsily and offered out the small jar of Vicks again.

“Oh, okay. I’ll just, uh, carry on then, um…” she trailed off, grateful that Oliver had shut his eyes again and couldn’t see her blushing so hard her cheeks must have matched her pink lipstick.

She took a small amount of the ointment from the jar and started working it carefully across his chest. The scarring on his right felt tight beneath her fingertips and she couldn’t help but wonder at what might have happened to him on the island to cause it. As if detecting the path of her thoughts Oliver shifted and guiltily she swept her hand further across his chest, until she had worked the heavy scented balm across to the tattoo on the other side of his body.

“Hey, I’m just going to put a little of this on your throat okay?” She’d noticed him grimacing a little each time he spoke and how he frowned each time he cleared his throat or coughed. He nodded and she traced her fingers along the column of his throat with the lightest touch she could manage.

As she drew her fingers away from the hollow of his throat she looked up and found Oliver staring at her, an unreadable expression on his face.

Her face grew warm again as she started to blush under the intensity of his gaze. “I… I should go wash up,” she said and waggled her fingers at him, earning her a smirk as Oliver pulled his tee-shirt back on.

As she washed her hands she could hear Oliver coughing from the other room. There was a pause and then two sneezes with barely a breath in between and then another bout of coughing. It was a vain hope that she might still persuade him to go home so she set about making two cups of tea before he could protest that he didn’t want, or need, it and returned, setting the hot mug down carefully in front of him.

He nodded. “Thah- huhkshhhoo! Ischoo! Ih-hyitshoo!”

“Bless you!”

He blew his nose and moaned.

“Has it helped?” she asked, eyeing the pot sat on the corner of her desk.

“Define help.”

“You sound better.”

Digg’s voice cut through on the comms. “Drop-off’s been made and picked up. You want me to intercept?”

Oliver cleared his throat. “Did you get the tracker on it?”

“It’s already working.” Felicity pointed to the red dot moving across her map of Starling City on the computer screen in front of them.

“No, we’ve got a trace. We’ll see where he takes it from here and follow up tomorrow. Good work Digg.”

“Thanks. How are you feeling?”

Oliver scowled. He seemed to take every inquiry about his health as an insult. “Fine.”

There was a moment’s silence and Felicity added, “He does seem better.”

“Good,” said Digg. “Want me to bring back food?”

“Yes,” said Felicity at the same time that Oliver said, “No.”

“Big Belly for you and me, soup for Mr Queen?”

Felicity laughed. “Yes!”

“You both work for me you know.”

“And we are grateful for that, sir,” Digg replied.

“Hehkshoo! Ktcschoo!”

“Bless you!” Digg and Felicity offered in chorus.

“Get some rest man,” Digg added before signing off.

Felicity swivelled in her chair to face Oliver. “I might go and lie down for a few minutes. Just til Digg gets back with the food,” he said, picking up the mug of tea.

She nodded. “Sure, I’ve got some stuff to finish up here.” It was a lie that he seemed happy to buy and she noted with some satisfaction that although he was still moving stiffly and they’d need to keep an eye on him for another day or two he wasn’t rubbing his chest in the same way and the pinched look on his face had gone.

She turned back to her screens and double checked the tracker, watching the dot make its way across the city.

“Hey Felicity,” Oliver said from halfway across the room, his voice so low that she almost didn’t catch it, “Thanks… for tonight.” His face had that same unreadable expression as before.

“You’re welcome. I’ll wake you when Digg gets back.”

He turned away, coughing and carried on making his way to the small cot in the corner.

Felicity swivelled back to the screen, tapped away and pulled up the GPS in Digg’s comms, watching his progress on the screen next to the other tracker. He’d be another half hour yet. She settled back in her chair and pulled a book from her bag. She couldn’t have pictured spending her nights like this a year ago; sitting in an underground base helping her cute billionaire boss and his bodyguard fight crime and working as their resident illegal hacker and tech mistress, but, she thought as she opened the book to the right page, she wouldn’t change it for the world.

[stephab13]

Oh gosh, this is just so wonderful and awesometastical and perfect and *melts*

Felicity bit down on the smile that threatened and examined him. He looked miserable. There were tight lines around his eyes and he kept squinting as though he had a headache. His freckles were hidden under the flush of a fever and he kept rubbing a hand across his chest as though it were bothering him. He hadn’t looked so miserable when he’d been shot.

...

Oliver shook his head. “If Digg deeds be thed I-”

Mmm... I love how just... sort of perfect that is. You paint him very obviously unwell, but he still keeps that stoicism and quiet suffering that IS Oliver and it's beautiful, honestly beautiful... even though I say so with complete sadism. But he still seems sort of... resigned to everything as well, and I don't know how they got him to that point or if his body really just couldn't take it, but I'd like to think a lot of it is due to Felicity and that's gorgeous. As is... Olicity in general, I think. It's really special to see such a warm moment between the two of them so THANK YOU for writing it! I think it's this - because of all the trust involved in it.

He nodded and she traced her fingers along the column of his throat with the lightest touch she could manage.

And then you just have good-natured Arrow humour.

“Big Belly for you and me, soup for Mr Queen?”

Felicity laughed. “Yes!”

“You both work for me you know.”

“And we are grateful for that, sir,” Digg replied.

Ahhhhhhhhh I love it love it love it and want to read more and more and more. ALL the Arrow fics!

[Bruyere]

@stephab - Yay, I'm so glad you liked it! I find Oliver a bit hard to pin down in fic, which obviously means I need to write more of him

1 - Kink :: 2 - Science Fiction :: 3 - Frightened :: 4 - Fake :: 5 – Pencil :: 6 – Squint :: 7 – Misplaced :: 8 – Joy :: 9 - Touched :: 10 – Cough :: 11 – Hot/Cold :: 12 – Sin :: 13 – Care :: 14 – Frail :: 15 – The End :: 16 – Three :: 17 – Never :: 18 – Midnight :: 19 – Promise :: 20 – Fight :: 21 – Pollen :: 22 – Embarrassment :: 23 – Alcohol :: 24 – Mask :: 25 – Mistake :: 26 – Suspicion :: 27 – Disagreement :: 28 – Assignment :: 29 – Purple :: 30 – June :: 31 – Calculating :: 32 – Fall :: 33 – Cry :: 34 – Relief :: 35 – Breath :: 36 – Miserable :: 37 – Chocolate :: 38 – Violent :: 39 – Muffle :: 40 – Swift :: 41 – Run :: 42 – Poison :: 43 – Contagion :: 44 – Tissue :: 45 – Sore :: 46 – Enraptured :: 47 – Wary :: 48 – Pathetic :: 49 – Sweat :: 50 – Gentle :: 51 – Milk :: 52 – Ravenous :: 53 – Blanket :: 54 – Needles :: 55a – Sports :: 55b – Ruin :: 56 – Lovely :: 57 – Hospital ::58 – Annoying :: 59 – Mother :: 60 – Bike :: 61 – Idiot :: 62 – Puppy :: 63 – Control :: 64 – Unfair :: 65 – Similarities :: 66 – Raincoat :: 67 – Worship :: 68 – Attitude :: 69 – Fuck :: 70 – Confession :: 71 – Floor :: 72 – Remedy :: 73 – Don’t :: 74 – Ego :: 75 – Heartless :: 76 – Lullaby :: 77 – Secret :: 78 – Shut Up :: 79 – Music :: 80 – Grudge :: 81 – Solitude :: 82 – Magic :: 83 – Dirty :: 84 – City :: 85 – Teacher :: 86 – Sky :: 87 – Hypocrite :: 88 – Tattoo :: 89 – Money :: 90 – Childhood :: 91 – Goodbye :: 92 – Victory :: 93 – Weather :: 94 – Photo :: 95 – Rage :: 96 – Internet :: 97 – Fashion :: 98 – Favor :: 99 – Lazy :: 100 – Airplane

Fandoms: Arrow, Graceland, The Cuckoo's Calling

Warnings: Language for The Cuckoo's Calling

89 – Money, Arrow, Tommy/Laurel

Set in 1.8 (iirc) when Tommy takes Laurel out on a date only to find that his Dad has cut him off and he has no money.

“That wasn’t exactly what I had in mind for our first date.” He sniffled and rubbed his still irritated nose.

“It’s fine Tommy.” Laurel squeezed his hand. “You’ll get the next one.”

“There’ll be a next one?” he asked with a grin.

“I could be persuaded.” Laurel leaned in to kiss him then frowned as he pulled away.

He offered an abrupt, “Sorry,” twisting away from her into the crook of his arm. “Eshhh! Huh-eshhh! Eshoo!”

“Bless you!”

“God, sorry. I’ve needed to do that all evening. This really isn’t going as planned.”

Laurel kissed him on the cheek. “It’s perfect.”

88 – Tattoo, Graceland, Mike, Charlie, Gen

“Wait,” he said, extricating his arm from her grip.

“Aww, don’t be nervous Mikey, it’s not a real needle and it’ll come off later,” said Charlie with a smirk. “It won’t hurt, promise.”

He shook his head. “It’s not that. I have to-” he ducked his head away from her and rubbed a finger under his nose.

“Seriously?”

“I- heh-cshhh! Sorry, I- cshhh! Chshhh!”

“Bless! You okay? I can get Jakes to take over if you’re sick.”

“ ‘m okay just- chshh! Damnit.”

“Yeah, you sound fine. Why don’t I come back in five?

Mike nodded, breath already hitching, “Okahhh, heh-cshh! Cshhuhh! Kcshuhh!”

31 – Calculating, The Cuckoo's Calling, Cormoran Strike, Robin Ellacott, Gen

“Hrschhoohh! Hhrrrschoo!”

Robin jumped at the sudden noise from the loud sneezes. Yet again, she bit her lip to stop herself from calling out a compulsive, but probably unwanted, “Bless you!” Fingers poised over the keyboard, she waited to see if there would be a third before she returned to her typing. A lengthy noseblow followed but no further sneezes.

She wondered if Strike was aware of the erratic rhythm of her typing, how her fingers stopped flying over the keyboard every time he sneezed. It was the sheer ferocity of his sneezes that caught her attention. Even with the door to his office shut, Strike’s sneezes were clearly audible and she couldn’t help but imagine them shaking his whole body, pitching him forwards towards his desk. There was a pause in the noseblowing and then a quieter, more defeated, “Irschuhh!”

Robin stopped typing again and glanced up at the clock. He’d been suffering with this cold for a few days now but it seemed to have hit him hardest this morning. She wasn’t sure how much to push it so she’d stuck to adding an apple to his regular sandwich and packet of crisps at lunch and giving him a carton of orange juice instead of another cup of coffee. She’d placed a small packet of tissues on his desk at the same time but had thought it better not to comment outright.

She returned to her typing only to make it another few sentences before she was interrupted again. “Hrrschoo! Fuck’s sake.” She was inclined to agree with the sentiment. If he felt that bad why didn’t he just go home and… oh. Shit.

Shit. Except now she wasn’t sure what to do. If she left straight away it would feel like an acknowledgment of the fact that he was living in the office, when it was a matter they both strenuously avoided. She glanced at the computer. Half two. If she could make it til three she could knock on his door and ask to leave early to run some errands. There was no way he’d say no to that on a Friday afternoon.

The half an hour ticked by painfully slowly and she finished her work easily enough before rapping on his door.

“Cobe id.”

“I’ve finished up here. If there’s nothing else you need me to do, I wondered if I could go early? I’ve got a few errands to run.”

He frowned.

“And I’m supposed to be meeting Matthew for drinks later and it would be great if I could-”

“Fide.” He sighed. If he suspected she was lying the casual mention of Matthew’s name seemed to have stopped him from challenging her on it.

“Do you need anything before I go?” She half hoped he’d ask her to run down to Boots to pick up some Lemsip or something to ease his suffering.

He shook his head. “I’b good. I’ll see you od Boday.”

She hesitated, wanting to offer to go and get him tissues and medicine anyway but in the end she just nodded. “Sure, have a good weekend.”

She pulled the door to his office shut and as she gathered her bag and pulled on her coat another loud pair of sneezes rang through the door.

“Hrrshhh! Ehrrshhhh!”

“Bless you!” she called out. “See you Monday.” She didn’t receive a response but hopefully some rest this afternoon and given the rest of the weekend to recover Strike would be back to normal come Monday morning.

[Garnet]

Aww lovely. I have no idea about any of these fandoms, but I enjoyed reading them anyway.

God, sorry. I’ve needed to do that all evening.

Nnnhhh, my favorite trope, when a character is working on a sneeze, held back or not, for a prolonged period of time without someone else noticing.

Robin stopped typing again and glanced up at the clock. He’d been suffering with this cold for a few days now but it seemed to have hit him hardest this morning. She wasn’t sure how much to push it so she’d stuck to adding an apple to his regular sandwich and packet of crisps at lunch and giving him a carton of orange juice instead of another cup of coffee. She’d placed a small packet of tissues on his desk at the same time but had thought it better not to comment outright.

And this. Subtle, sneaky caretaking is the best. I love the low hum of concern throughout this one in particular. And those spellings

[fraggle]

88 – Tattoo, Graceland, Mike, Charlie, Gen

“Wait,” he said, extricating his arm from her grip.

“Aww, don’t be nervous Mikey, it’s not a real needle and it’ll come off later,” said Charlie with a smirk. “It won’t hurt, promise.”

He shook his head. “It’s not that. I have to-” he ducked his head away from her and rubbed a finger under his nose.

“Seriously?”

“I- heh-cshhh! Sorry, I- cshhh! Chshhh!”

“Bless! You okay? I can get Jakes to take over if you’re sick.”

“ ‘m okay just- chshh! Damnit.”

“Yeah, you sound fine. Why don’t I come back in five?

Mike nodded, breath already hitching, “Okahhh, heh-cshh! Cshhuhh! Kcshuhh!”

You did Graceland! You're awesome!! Love the Arrow one too, can't wait for some more

[silentdreamer789]

Just getting into Arrow; these are awesome! It's exactly how I would picture it happening if Oliver were sick on the show. And the Cuckoo's Calling one was great too; you really got the characters bang on.

[Bruyere]

Garnet - it's always lovely when people who don't know the shows/books so thank you. And I'm glad that the spellings worked for you too!

fraggle - thanks! I have most of the second series of Graceland to catch up on so it's possible there'll be more. There will certainly be more Arrow at some point.

silentdreamer789 - Thank you! I'm so pleased you thought I did a good job with the characterisation. Especially for the Cuckoo's Calling as I wasn't sure if anybody else would have read it or been interested in it.

[Bruyere]

1 - Kink :: 2 - Science Fiction :: 3 - Frightened :: 4 - Fake :: 5 – Pencil :: 6 – Squint :: 7 – Misplaced :: 8 – Joy :: 9 - Touched :: 10 – Cough :: 11 – Hot/Cold :: 12 – Sin :: 13 – Care :: 14 – Frail :: 15 – The End :: 16 – Three :: 17 – Never :: 18 – Midnight :: 19 – Promise :: 20 – Fight :: 21 – Pollen :: 22 – Embarrassment :: 23 – Alcohol :: 24 – Mask :: 25 – Mistake :: 26 – Suspicion :: 27 – Disagreement :: 28 – Assignment :: 29 – Purple :: 30 – June :: 31 – Calculating :: 32 – Fall :: 33 – Cry :: 34 – Relief :: 35 – Breath :: 36 – Miserable :: 37 – Chocolate :: 38 – Violent :: 39 – Muffle :: 40 – Swift :: 41 – Run :: 42 – Poison :: 43 – Contagion :: 44 – Tissue :: 45 – Sore :: 46 – Enraptured :: 47 – Wary :: 48 – Pathetic :: 49 – Sweat :: 50 – Gentle :: 51 – Milk :: 52 – Ravenous :: 53 – Blanket :: 54 – Needles :: 55a – Sports :: 55b – Ruin :: 56 – Lovely :: 57 – Hospital ::58 – Annoying :: 59 – Mother :: 60 – Bike :: 61 – Idiot :: 62 – Puppy :: 63 – Control :: 64 – Unfair :: 65 – Similarities :: 66 – Raincoat :: 67 – Worship :: 68 – Attitude :: 69 – Fuck :: 70 – Confession :: 71 – Floor :: 72 – Remedy :: 73 – Don’t :: 74 – Ego :: 75 – Heartless :: 76 – Lullaby :: 77 – Secret :: 78 – Shut Up :: 79 – Music :: 80 – Grudge :: 81 – Solitude :: 82 – Magic :: 83 – Dirty :: 84 – City :: 85 – Teacher :: 86 – Sky :: 87 – Hypocrite :: 88 – Tattoo :: 89 – Money :: 90 – Childhood :: 91 – Goodbye :: 92 – Victory :: 93 – Weather :: 94 – Photo :: 95 – Rage :: 96 – Internet :: 97 – Fashion :: 98 – Favor :: 99 – Lazy :: 100 – Airplane

Fandom: Hannibal

Warnings: None. Not even for Hannibal's cooking.

Note: Not a drabble. Probably the most ridiculous thing I have ever written. I'd usually run through something like this a couple more times before posting but I'm going away over Christmas and if I don't post it now I'll change my mind entirely. Apologies for any and all errors that slipped through. Merry Christmas.

Summary:

And then he enters the kitchen and whatever he’d been expecting from Abigail’s earlier comment, it isn’t this.

8 – Joy

Tidings of Comfort and Joy

Will starts when Abigail opens Hannibal’s front door. “Abigail. I didn’t realise you would… I can come back if… Hi, is Hannibal in?” He stutters.

The corner of Abigail’s mouth twitches in amusement as she steps back to let him in. “He’s in the kitchen.”

The way she says it makes Will glance at her but she doesn’t add anything as she helps him with his jacket. Removing his jacket seems to have shaken loose more dander and he retrieves a handful of Kleenex from his jacket pocket before following Abigail down the hallway. He mumbles, “Sorry,” almost too softly for her to catch before pitching forward into the bundle of tissues and sneezing. “Tschh! Tschh! Heh-tschh!”

“Bless you.” He nods awkwardly and gives his nose a final wipe and pushes his glasses up and digs the heel of his hand against his eyes, trying to rid them of the last the itchiness before following her in to Hannibal’s kitchen.

The smell hits him first, before he’s even fully stepped in to the kitchen and rushes straight to his stomach. Sugar, cinnamon and Christmas. Even before he hears the carols playing, he’s hit with an odd rush of nostalgic warmth for family and comfort that he’s never really known. And then he enters the kitchen and whatever he’d been expecting from Abigail’s earlier comment, it isn’t this.

Almost all of the kitchen counter tops in Hannibal’s kitchen are covered with Christmas cookies. Snickerdoodles, choc-chip cookies, trays of gingerbread men waiting to be iced. Delicate snowflakes iced with blue and white webbing. Chocolate truffle snowballs rolled in coconut flakes. Clear bags stacked into pyramids with white stickers edged with candy canes and Hannibal’s crisp handwriting identifying the red and white swirls within as ‘Peppermint kisses’. Biscotti, Linzer torte cookies, lebkuchen. There’s a Yule log nestled on the side next to a magnificent looking Gingerbread house with boiled sugar glazed windows and wisps of cotton candy snow at the base.

“What…” He manages as Hannibal pauses while rolling out more dough. “What…” He tries again, shaking his head but can’t quite work out how to complete the sentence without adding ‘the hell.’

Hannibal draws himself up and somehow still manages to look imposing in a crisp blue shirt, neatly rolled up at the elbows, despite a smudge of flour on his cheek. “Good evening Will, I wasn’t expecting you.”

Will fidgets and says, “I can come back if-”

“Of course not, please.” Hannibal waves a flour-covered hand to indicate he should take a seat but Abigail appears to have snagged the only one that doesn’t have a plate of baked goods on them. She appears un-phased and starts threading ribbon through bauble-shaped cookies twinkling with red and green sugar crystals.

“I, uhh, there was a case… I thought…”

Hannibal places aside the rolling pin and deftly begins cutting Christmas tree shapes from the dough and placing them on a baking sheet.

He looks between Hannibal and Abigail dubiously. Part of the reason why he comes to Hannibal is the stability. Hannibal is always there and happy to greet him, no matter what awful case he has just left behind and needs to share, but this feels domestic in a way that itches at Will like an acrylic sweater. It’s a perfect Christmas scene and he has wandered in with tales of murder and misery to share around. He readjusts his glasses and drops his gaze to the floor as though even looking upon this sight will be enough to pollute it.

“I…” Will begins but he’s interrupted by the need to sneeze again. He fumbles the remaining tissues out of his pocket and clasps them firmly to his face and retreats to the furthest corner of the kitchen. He gasps and mutters a pre-emptive, “Sorry,” before pitching forward. “Heh-tchh! Heh-tschh! Tschh! Techh! Heh…Eh-tschuhh!” He blows his nose and wipes away tears from his eyes as Abigail and Hannibal murmur blessings.

“I’m not– hehtchh!- contagious, there were cats at the…tschhuhh!”

“Prosit. I could fetch you a Benadryl if you’d like?” The tray of Christmas trees in the oven, Hannibal sets a small timer for them.

Will shakes his head and clears his nose again. “I took one earlier. It’s just taking a little while to kick in.”

Hannibal wipes his hands on a tea towel and takes three small glasses from a cupboard and begins ladling from a saucepan on the stove which Will had somehow managed to overlook amongst everything else.

"Here," he crosses the kitchen and hands one of the glasses to Will. "Warm, spiced milk. Please help yourself," he adds gesturing at the counters covered with cookies. Will makes demurring noises till Hannibal hands Abigail a plate and she makes a selection for him and clears another chair so that he is obliged to join them.

"You, uhh, you have flour on your..." He gestures vaguely at his own face as Hannibal frowns, pulls a face at Abigail for not telling him and wipes it away with a tea towel. "So this is how you spend your weekend before Christmas?"

"They're for a bake sale at the hospital. I was asked by a former colleague to help out a few years ago. Things may have escalated a little over the years."

Abigail and Will both snort at the understatement and Will takes another bite of a snickerdoodle. It's not that he doesn’t appreciate Hannibal’s cooking normally but this is more suited to his taste buds than Hannibal’s usual culinary affairs. He polishes it off quickly and follows it with another, suddenly realising that he's not eaten since this morning.

"To what do we owe the pleasure of your company?"

"Oh it's, uhh, I don't..." Will glances at Abigail and clears his throat. As much as he wants to talk to Hannibal about what he's seen in the hope that he might be able to exorcise it before he has to sleep tonight he won't discuss it in front of her. "Maybe later." He surveys the scene in the kitchen again. "This must have been a couple of days' work?"

"Indeed," Hannibal says. "Most of the baking is done. It just needs to be packaged up." He raises an eyebrow. "Perhaps you'd like to stay and help?"

"It's a trap," says Abigail. "I've been here for three days working on boxing them up. It's too late for me; get out while you still can and save yourself."

Will laughs as Hannibal makes a small tsk-ing sound. "Fine, fine. What do you want me to do?"

His handwriting is deemed not up to scratch although Will thinks he makes a passable attempt at copying Hannibal's looping cursive and his attempts at icing gingerbread men are so pitiful that Hannibal looks uncertain as to whether he should even allow Will to eat them. Eventually Will settles on tying ribbons around the truffles that are already boxed and adding tags that have already been written to them. He loops the ribbon in increasingly elaborate knots, producing swirling bows in tartan check and using the flat blade of scissors to curl the metallic gold ribbon into angelic ringlets. The repetitive nature of the work is surprisingly soothing and he soon finds himself lost in it, the choral music and the gentle noise of Hannibal and Abigail's movements and conversation adding to the relaxing effect.

It's only when the timer goes off for a final time and Hannibal sets the last sheet of cookies down with a triumphal flourish that he realises how late it's gotten. He catches Hannibal's eye, who smiles at him and he finds himself smiling back. It strikes him a moment later, a slow creeping realisation, that this is the nicest evening he's had at Christmas in years and this is maybe the closest he's come to spending it with family.

The thought unsettles him so much that he stands abruptly and says, “We should get you back," to Abigail and he can't make eye contact with either of them.

**

Will and Abigail both decline Hannibal's offer of dinner. Will doesn't doubt that Hannibal could have provided a fine meal despite the obvious lack of space in the kitchen but the fact is he's full of milk and cookies as though he's five years old.

He’s shrugging on his jacket in the cool of Hannibal’s hallway when Hannibal appears holding a small cellophane bag. Will opens his mouth to protest that he really doesn’t need any cookies to take home with him as he is not actually five years old, when Hannibal says, “They’re not for you.”

Will inspects them more closely and raises an eyebrow. Biscuits in the shape of bones?

“An important donor to the hospital requested treats for their dogs.” Irritation flickers across his face but it’s gone as quickly as it came. “I thought you might appreciate a batch as well.”

“That’s… thank you. I haven't got you anything," he says, embarrassed.

"I haven't got you anything either," says Hannibal. "They're for your dogs. Was there another purpose for your visit this evening?" Hannibal asks, taking advantage of Abigail's absence as she cleans up before returning to the hospital.

Will's smile fades from his eyes and he half shrugs then rubs a hand over his face and up under his glasses, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Nothing more than the usual." He tries not to resent Jack and Alana for bringing this back into his life. He tries to remember why he said yes to it all when it seems so futile some days.

"- tschh! Heh’tschh! Sorry.” His coat is still covered in cat hair from earlier in the day. Hannibal frowns and disappears. Will’s not sure if his renewed sneezing is annoying him or if he’s gone to chase up Abigail. “Tschhh! Heh…” He rubs his nose irritably as the sneeze vanishes.

Hannibal reappears a moment later with a lint roller. “Stand still,” he commands.

Will’s not entirely sure why he complies, the whole thing is entirely too close for comfort, only that he generally obeys whether he wants to or not when Hannibal speaks in that tone. He interrupts him to smother another round of sneezing into a fresh handful of tissues. “Excu- tschh! Hehtchh! Eh-tschh!”

“Bless you,” says Abigail as Hannibal finishes up, removing a final stray cat hair with his fingers from Will’s shoulder.

Will blushes red and stares at the floor, muttering his thanks. He clutches the gift that Hannibal has given him awkwardly and uses all of his self-control not to bolt out of Hannibal’s front door but to wait until Abigail is ready to leave as well.

He bids an awkward farewell to Abigail. A sudden pang of envy for the easy physical intimacy of Hannibal’s relationship with her runs through him and a similar feeling must run through Abigail too. They don’t embrace but she puts her hands into his and squeezes as she wishes him a Merry Christmas. Will pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose and forces himself to look her in the eyes as he thanks her. He swallows, guilty at the path of his thoughts a few moments earlier.

He lingers by his car as he watches Abigail and Hannibal prepare to make the trip back to her hospital together. "Hannibal," he calls at the last minute just before he gets into his car, "Merry Christmas."

Hannibal smiles. "Merry Christmas, Will."

Edited December 28, 2014 by Bruyere

[bangbang]

Oh, this is lovely. I don't know what my favourite part is. Ima list them all because I seriously cannot.

- the whole domesticity - because of course Hannibal would be a wonderful baker! Of course he would go all out with hundreds of different types. And of course Will would feel awful about interrupting with doom and gloom.

- the description of Will being uncomfortable in the scene like he's wearing an itchy sweater gave me an almost visceral reaction. It's just the perfect (yet Christmassy!) image of discomfort.

- Abigaaaiiil oh I love her so much, perching on the chair and making jokes and the hospital and ABIGAIL I am sobbing.

- Hannibal with the flour on his face. unfff.

- so THAT's why Will's a dog person. I love him retreating to the back of the kitchen to avoid everyone. GAH.

- of course Will's handwriting is not up to scratch. And Hannibal being unsure about letting Will eat the mangled gingerbread men makes me gigglesnort.

- oh, Will. He's just not comfortable with happiness, is he?

- the presents are for his dogssss nooo Hannibal. The most wonderful, personable, kind cannibalistic serial killer ever.

- although why do I have the feeling that the donor who requested dog treats might be ending up as Hannibal's Christmas dinner?

- Lint roller! Hannibal's attention to Will while he's still sneezing is amazing and perfect and so indicative of Hannibal's "personal space what is personal space"-ism.

- Will envying Hannibal's ability to be so easily physical with Abigail hurt my heart. Because agh; with what we know from later and Will's personality (how everything is always at a distance) is just painful and beautiful and right.

I feel so Christmassy now! Thank you for sharing this lovely fic - I really want this as a Hannibal Christmas special now.

Edited December 24, 2014 by bangbang

[SexyGodlikeHair]

Ahh!! Rizzles is AMAZING!!! (Especially yours)

Sick Janie is just too cute...great drabbles, i look forward to more!

[Garnet]

Oh noooo Bruyere, this is so sweet and cute. Last year there was some kind of holiday fic swap in the Hannibal fandom (non-fetish related, obviously) and I ate them all up with relish. I think I have some kind of weakness for these characters in forced domestic scenarios like that. You've captured the broken, awkward, tender weirdness of that perfectly here. Even Hannibal's requisite dignity comes with humor. I love it.

And now, some favorite parts.

He looks between Hannibal and Abigail dubiously. Part of the reason why he comes to Hannibal is the stability. Hannibal is always there and happy to greet him, no matter what awful case he has just left behind and needs to share, but this feels domestic in a way that itches at Will like an acrylic sweater. It’s a perfect Christmas scene and he has wandered in with tales of murder and misery to share around. He readjusts his glasses and drops his gaze to the floor as though even looking upon this sight will be enough to pollute it.

I had to just quote this entire paragraph because ugh. UGH. So Will. So very, very perfect. The sweater simile, and feeling that pall of guilt at bringing his dirty headspace into this nice scene.

“Prosit. I could fetch you a Benadryl if you’d like?” The tray of Christmas trees in the oven, Hannibal sets a small timer for them.

Hannibal blessing people in other languages is my favorite.

"They're for a bake sale at the hospital. I was asked by a former colleague to help out a few years ago. Things may have escalated a little over the years."

And this. You got his "voice" just right, so completely unperturbed but acknowledging the absurdity of making so many cookies oh my god. And of course things escalated because he's Hannibal and has to constantly show himself up in all things culinary.

I also love that while Will appreciates his cooking, his palate still prefers the simple stuff. It's a nice touch.

"It's a trap," says Abigail. "I've been here for three days working on boxing them up. It's too late for me; get out while you still can and save yourself."

Oh no. Both Abigail and this scenario is so cute (iiin a still mildly threatening way because serial killers).

He loops the ribbon in increasingly elaborate knots, producing swirling bows in tartan check and using the flat blade of scissors to curl the metallic gold ribbon into angelic ringlets. The repetitive nature of the work is surprisingly soothing and he soon finds himself lost in it, the choral music and the gentle noise of Hannibal and Abigail's movements and conversation adding to the relaxing effect.

Man, this whole paragraph relaxed me. So soothing, that imagery.

Also, he made dog biscuits. He made dog biscuits? You're killing me, Bruyere. I have so many conflicting feelings of "aww the puppies!" along with the constant undercurrent of URGH HANNIBAL YOU'RE THE WORST that comes with any fic in this fandom haha.

And when Will finally gets too comfortable, balks, and runs? It fractures that sweet domestic scene and I love the accuracy of that even though it's painful.

Anyway. Enough flailing. GOOD JOB this is awesome I'm so glad you shared!

[Bruyere]

bangbang - Thank you so much for the lovely comment! I am so glad you liked it!

- Hannibal with the flour on his face. unfff.

100% with you on that.

- I have a ridiculous soft spot for Will with cat allergies.

- although why do I have the feeling that the donor who requested dog treats might be ending up as Hannibal's Christmas dinner?

He's definitely on Hannibal's naughty list. Not sure if he's made it to the Christmas dinner table yet.

SexygodlikeHair - Omg someone else who watches the show *and* is a Rizzles fan?! Hiiiiiiiiiii! Thank you so much for commenting. I haven't written Rizzles in ages but I've been meaning to catch up on S5 so maybe inspiration will strike then.

Garnet - Thanks for the lovely comment. I have a ridiculous weakness for domestic fic in this fandom as well. I think it's because the source material is so dark and so any sweetness in domestic fics is always tapered by 'the food is people'. Or as you put it:

the constant undercurrent of URGH HANNIBAL YOU'RE THE WORST that comes with any fic in this fandom

because, yes

Also, I'm so glad that the Hannibal voice in this worked for you. He's such an odd person to write (putting it mildly) that I'm never sure if I hit it or not so I'm pleased to know it worked here.

Also, he made dog biscuits. He made dog biscuits? You're killing me, Bruyere

Yeah, if there is a line, I'm pretty sure I waltzed right over it at that point.