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shadowesque) wrote2013-07-15 06:45 pm
shadowesque) wrote2013-07-15 06:45 pm
Entry tags:
Fic: Cazador (1/?)
Title: Cazador (1/?)
Fandom: NBC's Hannibal, Pacific Rim, crossover AU
Rating: PG (so far)
Warnings: Literally nothing so far save for Pacific Rim plot device spoilers maybe?
Summary: They aren't patient and doctor anymore, but when Will's mind wanders, Hannibal straightens things out. Pre-hannigram.
“You are not concentrating today, Will,” Hannibal commented, pike resting on the younger man’s neck for a few long moments before backing down. It wasn’t like a pilot pair to be so out of synch, and Hannibal had already swept the floor with Will instead of being evenly matched. “What seems to be troubling you?”
Will shook his head, sweaty curls flying as he got back into position. “Again.”
Hannibal refrained, leaning on his pike and observing the eager, distracted brother in arms. “Will.”
“We’re gonna do it again.”
“Will.”
As if a fog were beginning to clear, Will started, eyes finding Hannibal’s—quite possibly the only person he ever found comfortable to maintain any eye contact with, beyond brief and fleeting glimpses. For a moment, he looked lost, then relaxed his frame. “It’s nothing. I’m just a little distracted, off my game.”
“Nothing,” Hannibal echoed, approaching to lay a hand on his shoulder. “We can’t afford to be so off, you know. We need to be in tune one hundred percent, to give our all.” He dipped his head to better catch blue eyes, tone soft but urging. “It is a lot to ask, but then, the Corps asks for so much from us. When the next kaiju attacks, we must be fully prepared.” The hand drifted to Will’s jaw, a few fingers tucking under like checking his pulse. “Are you prepared?”
Will took a deep breath through his nose and stepped away from the touch, absently swinging the pole as he slowly began to pace. Hannibal only stayed exactly where he was, only moving his head to watch his distressed partner gather his thoughts. Admittedly, they were sometimes an odd pair. They weren’t relatives, and they weren’t lovers, two categories that were relatively common among pilots, traits that made being drift compatible that much more likely. Hannibal was a still man, reserving and controlling his motions (and emotions) with skill, with a thick accent and refined tastes. Will was an eccentric American, a ball of nerves, liking movement, enjoying the more casual things in life, with a particular gift of empathy that was rarely understood among the ranks.
Hannibal had understood even before their first test at the neural handshake. He’d understood Will in ways that hadn’t seemed possible. And Will in return could see much more than anyone ever had with him before.
“I dreamt of Alana last night.”
Nothing was said in return, dark eyes still watching as Will paced.
“And the dogs. I haven’t talked to her in a while, but she—she was fine last time, everything was fine.” He laughed in spite of himself.
When it seemed like Will wasn’t going to say more, Hannibal prompted him further. “She is also on the east coast. Are you worried something will happen to her while we work on the other side of the country?”
Will gave a huff and struck, knocking the pike from Hannibal’s hand, the wood clattering off across the floor. “You aren’t my doctor anymore. This isn’t a therapy session.”
“No,” the former doctor agreed with only a blink at the attack, balance back on his feet, “I am your partner. I feel that must give me at least some responsibility in making sure you are mentally and psychologically fit for duty, or would you rather we are benched?” Will grimaced and finally stopped his back and forth to lean against the metal of the wall. “I’m still qualified enough to raise my concerns if I don’t think you are up for an attack.”
“You wouldn’t.”
Hannibal merely gave a small raise of his eyebrows.
“…Okay, you would. And I’m sure your expert opinion will be highly regarded, Dr. Lecter.”
“Would you rather I simply find out what the matter is when we’re drifting? While you are distracted? While you chase the--”
“I won’t chase the rabbit,” Will cut in curtly. “You know that. I’ve learned my lesson.” His bright eyes looked away, into a distant middle point only he could see. Goosebumps freckled his arms, and he shuddered. “Do you ever think of home? Going back? Living a normal life again?”
Hannibal gave it a thought, then motioned for Will to follow him out of the room. Putting equipment aside. It would be rude, after all, to take up so much time and space that could be used for someone else’s physical needs. “Is that something you want to do, Will?” he asked at length.
“Isn’t that what we all want?”
“But until we win this war, we are stuck here.” They moved out of the way as crew passed by, silent but polite before resuming their walk and conversation. “To go now would mean to give up and let someone else pilot.”
Will wasn’t about to let that slight guilt trip get to him. “Some days I think someone else should. We’ve done our tour. I should just go back to teaching.”
Hannibal pursed his lips, tilting his head just so. “Do you think you could?”
The co-pilot couldn’t answer, and upon reaching their quarters, Hannibal allowed him inside first. Some liked to decorate with knickknacks and photos, things from home. So they don’t feel so alone and to remind them what they’re fighting for. Hannibal’s side was not bare, with books and music, but it was all finery, nothing that felt terribly personal. Will could understand, having drifted with him, that kind of closed nature. He wasn’t exactly an open book himself, though he too surrounded himself with things he enjoyed. Spare jaeger parts, or damaged parts to tinker with. Photos of his dogs, some of his friends, the few he thought he could count on. Some fishing lures to fiddle with. Something to distract an overactive mind. Sharing space and room wasn’t always easy, but neither man needed very much to themselves, and finding a place within the shatterdome that was empty and peaceful wasn’t as hard as it initially seemed.
“One of these days, Will,” he started again as he shut the door, “we are going to win. Then we can do whatever we please. For now, we cannot abandon our cause. What would you do if you went back to Wolf Trap to your dogs, back to Quantico to Dr. Bloom, to the FBI? Could you go back to your job and your quiet home life, watching the attacks on the news, safe and sound?”
“Don’t you ever miss it?” The words barely came out, a desperate whisper. Eyes ratcheted to the floor.
Hannibal took a breath, exhaled patiently, then stripped off the sweat-damp shirt. “I would be lying if I said I did not,” he eventually said, taking a seat on his bed. “And I would be lying if I said there weren’t days I don’t miss it at all.”
Will raised his eyes but didn’t move from his spot by the door. Was it apprehension or just his physically reluctant nature?
“I do miss cooking gourmet meals with the finest ingredients my money can buy. The luxuries of home. Some days I even miss the mundane nature of my work, important on a small scale though it may be.” He left enough room on one end of the bed for Will to come sit if he was so enticed, and, as predicted, he was finally coaxed into coming near. “But here I have trained my body and also my mind. Here I am on the front lines, defending half of the world from dangers we cannot yet understand. And here I have found what I could melodramatically—but no less correctly—call my other half.”
Said other half took that with some wide eyed surprise, which melted into a crooked grin of understanding. Still hesitant at the corners, but a grin nevertheless. “Despite everything?”
Hannibal gave a shake of his head. “No, I think because of everything. You may see certain aspects of your mind as a hindrance, but if you hadn’t you would not have come to me, and we would not have met. Then someone else would be piloting that hunk of metal, and you would not be recovering as you are.”
Will looked like he might argue, but decided against it. He did feel, in some way, like his mind was recovering from whatever psychosis had begun to grip it ever since drifting with his co-pilot. He’d heard that there were, depending on the partner, certain benefits that could be had in the drift, but he hadn’t seen it himself, until it started to happen with him.
“And nobody could pilot her better than we do.” Will left it at that, a bit of a smirk more at home on the face of a cocky rockstar pilot than one who had so unexpectedly climbed the humble ranks. He moved off Hannibal’s bed to his side of the room, likewise divesting himself of a drying shirt. There was a lot to chew on in the words of his fellow pilot, understanding that the wish for things to go back as they were was not uncommon, but to turn their backs now… What good would that do anyone? Could he just abandon the man who had so unexpectedly wormed his way into his life and his head in the best ways possible? Go back and…what, pretend nothing happened? There would be reporters hounding him at his door, he was sure, now that he gave the scenario some real thought. There would be questions. Ones he’s not sure he’d have a good answer to.
He felt Hannibal’s presence behind him but didn’t let him speak up first. “I think that’s enough training today. A nice long shower and some food sounds like it’d hit the spot. I’ll clear out my head, call Alana, and we can try again tomorrow.” Will tossed a pleased look over his shoulder. “No holding back, no distractions. I promise.”
Fandom: NBC's Hannibal, Pacific Rim, crossover AU
Rating: PG (so far)
Warnings: Literally nothing so far save for Pacific Rim plot device spoilers maybe?
Summary: They aren't patient and doctor anymore, but when Will's mind wanders, Hannibal straightens things out. Pre-hannigram.
“You are not concentrating today, Will,” Hannibal commented, pike resting on the younger man’s neck for a few long moments before backing down. It wasn’t like a pilot pair to be so out of synch, and Hannibal had already swept the floor with Will instead of being evenly matched. “What seems to be troubling you?”
Will shook his head, sweaty curls flying as he got back into position. “Again.”
Hannibal refrained, leaning on his pike and observing the eager, distracted brother in arms. “Will.”
“We’re gonna do it again.”
“Will.”
As if a fog were beginning to clear, Will started, eyes finding Hannibal’s—quite possibly the only person he ever found comfortable to maintain any eye contact with, beyond brief and fleeting glimpses. For a moment, he looked lost, then relaxed his frame. “It’s nothing. I’m just a little distracted, off my game.”
“Nothing,” Hannibal echoed, approaching to lay a hand on his shoulder. “We can’t afford to be so off, you know. We need to be in tune one hundred percent, to give our all.” He dipped his head to better catch blue eyes, tone soft but urging. “It is a lot to ask, but then, the Corps asks for so much from us. When the next kaiju attacks, we must be fully prepared.” The hand drifted to Will’s jaw, a few fingers tucking under like checking his pulse. “Are you prepared?”
Will took a deep breath through his nose and stepped away from the touch, absently swinging the pole as he slowly began to pace. Hannibal only stayed exactly where he was, only moving his head to watch his distressed partner gather his thoughts. Admittedly, they were sometimes an odd pair. They weren’t relatives, and they weren’t lovers, two categories that were relatively common among pilots, traits that made being drift compatible that much more likely. Hannibal was a still man, reserving and controlling his motions (and emotions) with skill, with a thick accent and refined tastes. Will was an eccentric American, a ball of nerves, liking movement, enjoying the more casual things in life, with a particular gift of empathy that was rarely understood among the ranks.
Hannibal had understood even before their first test at the neural handshake. He’d understood Will in ways that hadn’t seemed possible. And Will in return could see much more than anyone ever had with him before.
“I dreamt of Alana last night.”
Nothing was said in return, dark eyes still watching as Will paced.
“And the dogs. I haven’t talked to her in a while, but she—she was fine last time, everything was fine.” He laughed in spite of himself.
When it seemed like Will wasn’t going to say more, Hannibal prompted him further. “She is also on the east coast. Are you worried something will happen to her while we work on the other side of the country?”
Will gave a huff and struck, knocking the pike from Hannibal’s hand, the wood clattering off across the floor. “You aren’t my doctor anymore. This isn’t a therapy session.”
“No,” the former doctor agreed with only a blink at the attack, balance back on his feet, “I am your partner. I feel that must give me at least some responsibility in making sure you are mentally and psychologically fit for duty, or would you rather we are benched?” Will grimaced and finally stopped his back and forth to lean against the metal of the wall. “I’m still qualified enough to raise my concerns if I don’t think you are up for an attack.”
“You wouldn’t.”
Hannibal merely gave a small raise of his eyebrows.
“…Okay, you would. And I’m sure your expert opinion will be highly regarded, Dr. Lecter.”
“Would you rather I simply find out what the matter is when we’re drifting? While you are distracted? While you chase the--”
“I won’t chase the rabbit,” Will cut in curtly. “You know that. I’ve learned my lesson.” His bright eyes looked away, into a distant middle point only he could see. Goosebumps freckled his arms, and he shuddered. “Do you ever think of home? Going back? Living a normal life again?”
Hannibal gave it a thought, then motioned for Will to follow him out of the room. Putting equipment aside. It would be rude, after all, to take up so much time and space that could be used for someone else’s physical needs. “Is that something you want to do, Will?” he asked at length.
“Isn’t that what we all want?”
“But until we win this war, we are stuck here.” They moved out of the way as crew passed by, silent but polite before resuming their walk and conversation. “To go now would mean to give up and let someone else pilot.”
Will wasn’t about to let that slight guilt trip get to him. “Some days I think someone else should. We’ve done our tour. I should just go back to teaching.”
Hannibal pursed his lips, tilting his head just so. “Do you think you could?”
The co-pilot couldn’t answer, and upon reaching their quarters, Hannibal allowed him inside first. Some liked to decorate with knickknacks and photos, things from home. So they don’t feel so alone and to remind them what they’re fighting for. Hannibal’s side was not bare, with books and music, but it was all finery, nothing that felt terribly personal. Will could understand, having drifted with him, that kind of closed nature. He wasn’t exactly an open book himself, though he too surrounded himself with things he enjoyed. Spare jaeger parts, or damaged parts to tinker with. Photos of his dogs, some of his friends, the few he thought he could count on. Some fishing lures to fiddle with. Something to distract an overactive mind. Sharing space and room wasn’t always easy, but neither man needed very much to themselves, and finding a place within the shatterdome that was empty and peaceful wasn’t as hard as it initially seemed.
“One of these days, Will,” he started again as he shut the door, “we are going to win. Then we can do whatever we please. For now, we cannot abandon our cause. What would you do if you went back to Wolf Trap to your dogs, back to Quantico to Dr. Bloom, to the FBI? Could you go back to your job and your quiet home life, watching the attacks on the news, safe and sound?”
“Don’t you ever miss it?” The words barely came out, a desperate whisper. Eyes ratcheted to the floor.
Hannibal took a breath, exhaled patiently, then stripped off the sweat-damp shirt. “I would be lying if I said I did not,” he eventually said, taking a seat on his bed. “And I would be lying if I said there weren’t days I don’t miss it at all.”
Will raised his eyes but didn’t move from his spot by the door. Was it apprehension or just his physically reluctant nature?
“I do miss cooking gourmet meals with the finest ingredients my money can buy. The luxuries of home. Some days I even miss the mundane nature of my work, important on a small scale though it may be.” He left enough room on one end of the bed for Will to come sit if he was so enticed, and, as predicted, he was finally coaxed into coming near. “But here I have trained my body and also my mind. Here I am on the front lines, defending half of the world from dangers we cannot yet understand. And here I have found what I could melodramatically—but no less correctly—call my other half.”
Said other half took that with some wide eyed surprise, which melted into a crooked grin of understanding. Still hesitant at the corners, but a grin nevertheless. “Despite everything?”
Hannibal gave a shake of his head. “No, I think because of everything. You may see certain aspects of your mind as a hindrance, but if you hadn’t you would not have come to me, and we would not have met. Then someone else would be piloting that hunk of metal, and you would not be recovering as you are.”
Will looked like he might argue, but decided against it. He did feel, in some way, like his mind was recovering from whatever psychosis had begun to grip it ever since drifting with his co-pilot. He’d heard that there were, depending on the partner, certain benefits that could be had in the drift, but he hadn’t seen it himself, until it started to happen with him.
“And nobody could pilot her better than we do.” Will left it at that, a bit of a smirk more at home on the face of a cocky rockstar pilot than one who had so unexpectedly climbed the humble ranks. He moved off Hannibal’s bed to his side of the room, likewise divesting himself of a drying shirt. There was a lot to chew on in the words of his fellow pilot, understanding that the wish for things to go back as they were was not uncommon, but to turn their backs now… What good would that do anyone? Could he just abandon the man who had so unexpectedly wormed his way into his life and his head in the best ways possible? Go back and…what, pretend nothing happened? There would be reporters hounding him at his door, he was sure, now that he gave the scenario some real thought. There would be questions. Ones he’s not sure he’d have a good answer to.
He felt Hannibal’s presence behind him but didn’t let him speak up first. “I think that’s enough training today. A nice long shower and some food sounds like it’d hit the spot. I’ll clear out my head, call Alana, and we can try again tomorrow.” Will tossed a pleased look over his shoulder. “No holding back, no distractions. I promise.”