u twat, ur like 50+
hOW ABOUT NO
"It won’t," came his curt reply.
"It already has," he pointed out. "I would ask your wife and your son if it’s coast you. When they wake up."
"Not without a few rounds of quid pro quo," she teased, lips kissing the cloth over his shoulder. "You challenged me. You tested me. I felt like no one else did that for me. It made me admire you."
"And you found that attractive," he teased. "If only your male coworkers knew. And I thought you would break after a few visits; after the FBI chewed you up and spat you out into my hands." He poured the vegetables into the pan before pouring in a little liquor, the flame jumping up, reaching towards the ceiling.
"But you fought back."
He could hear her breathe out in amusement, her lips forming a smile against the back of his shirt. “I needed those answers, doctor. Simple as that.”
"Mm. And I knew then that I would see you again. Another chat perhaps hanging advice over your head. Nothing more than that." He watched her new ring glint in the fire that came from under the skillet.
"What about?" she hummed out, bringing herself closer to him. There were often times that she would fantasize about him being under this roof. It felt damn good to have this as a reality now. She’d admit that freely.
"What I thought of you. Little upstart, Jack’s little kitten untamed clawing for promotion. You argued, and glared and screamed at me when most ran crying."
"You went food shopping," she mused. Her heels clicked on the plastic laminate of the floor, her arms carefully snaking around Hannibal’s chest. The cheek that still had the gunpowder mark pressed against his back as he sliced the vegetables.
He took a deep breath and inhaled her scent. She could feel his muscles working against her cheek as he chopped. His sleeves were rolled up to the elbow and their arms brushed. Even after so much time, each touch sent electricity through his skin. Clarice—his Clarice. ”I was thinking about Baltimore.”
Just as she would do before her dinners in Barcelona, Clarice took to primping herself more than she usually would. Her hair up in a neat bun, her ears now adorned with real pearls, she found herself smiling at her reflection. It felt good to smile. It felt good to be comfortable in such fabrics and stones.
She made her way down the hallway and the stairs, the dress perfectly contoured around her frame. “I missed this,” she said in honesty, looking over the set up of what she didn’t quite recognize to be her dining room table.
"As did I," he said from the kitchen which connected to the dinning room without so much as doorway. He was slicing artichoke as meat cooked in Ardelia’s beloved skillet. "I am very happy to have actual food to work with.