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Historically, Hannibal had always enjoyed his swimming club. It catered to a clientele unlikely to bring children or floatation devices into the pool, and the changing rooms and shower stalls were always impeccably clean and maintained by polite and accommodating staff. He had a standing reservation for the third lane twice a week at seven AM. After a light breakfast and short drive to a private parking garage, he swam exactly one hundred and ten laps - fifty five freestyle, fifty five backstroke - before twenty minutes in the sauna followed by a cool shower. He felt energized afterwards; loose and limber but his thoughts clear and intentional. He considered it the best kind of exercise.
He often had the entire facility nearly to himself. A few older men, soaking in tubs; once in a while a hyper athletic type churning in the water before he arrived and still going after he left, but no real bother.
That was not who had beaten him to the pool this morning.
A diver, high up and perched as if waiting at the lip of the board, looking down at the water. He must have made the staff aware of his intentions; the fourth and fifth lanes had been merged to make room for the man to land.
Hannibal made his way around the far edge of the pool, letting the diver occupy his peripheral vision as he sat down with his feet in the water and readied his goggles and cap. The man remained on the edge of the board, bouncing slightly now.
Suddenly he went back to the start of the board, rolling his shoulders before turning again towards the end. Hannibal counted his steps as he ran towards the end of the diving board. One, two, three, four and -
He was falling. Not just falling, flying. Arms out, feet pressed together, chest and head up before his arms sliced back over his head to form a point just before he hit the surface of the water. He went in with so little resistance Hannibal could make out no ripples in the water before the diver surfaced again. He swam the remaining distance to the far wall before turning and starting back towards the diving board, his strokes sure but unhurried. He paused for a moment, sluicing water and dark hair away from his face before climbing out and starting up the ladder again.
His second dive was no less arresting than the first. He jumped at the end of the board for a small eternity, higher and higher until the rebound had him more than three feet above the board. Finally he jumped, his hips bent and knees straight as he spun head over heels twice before unfurling into that pointed position again moments before he hit.
Once more he was half way down the lane before resurfacing, turning underwater with a powerful push against the pool wall that prevented Hannibal from getting a clear view of the man before he was out of the water again and climbing.
Hannibal became aware some time between the fifth and sixth dives that what he was doing could perhaps be mistaken for staring.
He had seen divers before, of course. Not often at this facility, but it was not so unusual. Not even unexpected, given the depth of the water and height of the room. Hannibal re-wet his goggles and put them on, slipping into the water and starting off with more force than necessary, annoyed with himself for being distracted into being nearly twenty minutes late in starting his laps and perhaps even more annoyed with the diver for providing the distraction. Resolute, he began his freestyle laps.
Seven laps in, the diver landed in the water again. The sound was somehow louder underwater, and Hannibal missed a stroke, glancing towards the man as he swam towards the far end of the pool. His thighs and calves were particularly well formed, but it was the sight of his arms and back as he propelled himself through the water that nearly made Hannibal’s strokes falter altogether.
He tried, half convincing himself he wasn’t trying at all, to pace himself in such a way that he could better glimpse the man’s face, but to no avail. Dark hair and muscular arms made it impossible to get a clear look at him.
The man dove twice more, and twice more Hannibal felt the impact across the width of the pool. Twice more he had the distinct pleasure of watching beautiful limbs emerge from the white turbulence of impact and shoot out into the center of the pool. Twice he allowed himself to slow, just a fraction, in an attempt to keep his head above water long enough to track the man’s movement up the ladder to dive again.
He realized after a time that another dive was not forthcoming. The man had left. Hannibal made himself finish all of his remaining laps before exiting as well, resolutely not attempting to follow the diver into the locker room to finally see him clearly.
There was no one to be found in the locker room. Not even a wet footprint that may have allowed Hannibal to guess which locker he had used. He went back towards the showers, rinsing off and dressing with his usual proficient elegance. If he regretted that there was no one to appreciate the effort, he did not allow himself to dwell on it.
He did, however, ask at the desk if the man who had been diving earlier ever gave lessons. The attendant could not give him an answer, but at Hannibal’s suggestion, helpfully scheduled his next swim to be at the same time the man, Mr. Graham, had reserved the two lanes below the diving board next week.
The week passed uneventfully. Hannibal tried a new recipe for heart that he enjoyed; braised in a clay vessel under bay and garlic. He wrote and submitted two letters of reference for a former student that, while not entirely glowing, would help secure their placement at a prestigious medical school in Prague. He attended a mid week benefit luncheon run by a colleague, and found every person he was introduced to failed to hold his attention against the memory of a lovely, pale form plummeting through the air.
The day of his reservation, Hannibal arrived an hour early. He had no specific plan besides a formal introduction, but the day seemed ripe for plucking whatever opportunities he might find. He took his time undressing; lingering a while in hopes of catching a glimpse of the man before they were in the pool again. Hannibal was not disappointed.
The man, Mr. Graham, bustled into the locker room with two bags slung over one shoulder and a cell phone pressed against his ear.
“I’ll be there in two hours… The gym, Jack… Yeah, you said that last week… NO. No, I’ll meet you there. I have to get back by one for class…”
He breezed past Hannibal, sloughing off his bags and jacket in one motion and beginning to rifle through one as he shoved the other two into a locker.
“Is that an honest question?... Do I look like I lift weights?... I’ll be there, OK? Maybe you’ll have tox back by then… Yeah, yeah. Bye.”
He tossed the phone into the bag at his feet, and toed off his shoes and socks to reveal long toes and finely boned ankles. His flannel and undershirt went next, tossed into the locker atop his jacket. Here, Hannibal realized he was staring again, and turned back to his own open locker, but not before noticing the exact placement of his navel and the sparse, dark hair below it that disappeared into his waistband.
Hannibal listened as the man finished undressing, the metallic click of the lock, and turned as he walked toward the showers.
“Are you Mr. Graham?”
He stopped short, perhaps not having noticed Hannibal until then. Blue eyes, above a slightly upturned nose and a square, unshaven jaw. “Uh. Yeah. Yes, I’m Will Graham. Who’s asking?”
Hannibal stepped forward. “Hannibal Lecter. I believe I saw you here last week.”
He cocked his head. “Oh, right. You were swimming laps.”
“Yes.” Hannibal agreed with a slight smile and nod.
“You were watching me dive.” Will said. “You watched me for a long time.”
“I have not seen many divers, and certainly none with your talent.”
He huffed, and Hannibal didn’t know if it was in annoyance or amusement. “You must have also been the guy who asked if I give lessons.”
The front desk staff would have to be dealt with. “Do you?”
“No.” He said shortly, before grimacing slightly and trying again. “I never have before, and I’ve only started diving again recently. I bet the people here could give you another recommendation.”
“Perhaps.” Hannibal said lightly. “Have you been a member of the club for long?”
“A few weeks. This place is expensive but it has the pool depth I need.”
“Welcome, then. We are lucky to have you.”
“Uh, sure. Thanks.” Will’s tone was caught somewhere between politeness and poorly concealed irritation. “I only have about an hour before I need to leave to be at work, so -”
“Of course, forgive me. I am throwing us both off schedule.”
Will answered him with a tight lipped smile, giving Hannibal a wide berth as he made his way through to the main pool. Hannibal lingered for a minute, then two, before following him.
They fell into the same pattern: Hannibal watched the first few dives, and was not imagining that Will was quicker to pull himself out of the water and up to the diving board that he had been the previous week. Perhaps self conscious now that he knew that he was not only being watched, but admired. Eager to keep some distance between them in an attempt to ignore the sensation.
Eventually Hannibal did go through the motions of swimming, wetting his cap and goggles and sliding into the water. Will’s pace slowed once Hannibal was no longer obviously focused on him, the next three dives sending him deeper into the pool even as they kept him suspended in the air longer.
Hannibal would have been content to spend the whole morning and afternoon this way - feeling the impact as Will hit the water, watching him twist and right himself and start towards the far end of the pool, turn back, and finally pull himself up and out. The timing of the dives themselves were hard to predict, but his fluid motions once he was underwater were consistent; so rhythmic Hannibal could pace his own strokes to Will’s.
Too soon, the hour was up. Eleven dives, by Hannibal’s count, and as he made note of that number he realised that he had not been counting his own laps. An annoyance, admittedly, but quickly forgotten as he watched Will walk away from the pool and into the sauna area. The view and opportunity could not have been better, and he was soon out of the water and following.
The club sauna was a modern take on the practice, white subway tiles and cedar slab seating. Hannibal could see Will through the steam on the other side of the heavy glass door, head back against the tile with his eyes closed, the long, pale line of his throat exposed, sweat or condensation rolling down to pool at his collar bones. The entire tableau was tempting, and Hannibal was not a man known to ignore temptations.
The towel, perhaps several towels, wound around the door handle and through a hook on the adjacent wall was, however, a fairly effective deterrent.
Hannibal thought, with a clinical detachment, of how difficult it would be to break the door open. Wet fabric was often surprisingly strong, and towels used in the club were heavy even when completely dry. Certainly the adhesive holding the handle to the glass would give before the door itself did, or the hook would be torn from the wall.
He nearly knocked, simply on principle, but even as the thought occurred to him one blue eye languidly slipped open. A slight smile was directed his way before both eyes were closed again and Hannibal was resolutely ignored.
The cheek of it, the utterly brazen rudeness, was not usually something to be tolerated, but as Hannibal turned and went back to finish his laps he found that he was charmed in spite of himself. As far as improvised counter-siege measures went, bolting the door in such a fashion was fairly clever. It would not work twice. Will had been lucky to be alone in the sauna, and removing any extra towels next week would be simple enough.
The smile, too, was as encouraging as it was provoking. If he was considered merely a pest, surely Will would have ignored him completely. That sly recognition may not have been an overt invitation to escalation, but Hannibal would happily take it as such.
By the time he had swam himself into near exhaustion, the locker room was filling with white collar men more interested in talk than exercise, and Will Graham was not among them. Hannibal showered, dressed, and gathered his things. If, as he had no morning appointments that day and could spare the time, he discreetly broke the lock on Will’s locker and catalogued the items left inside - white tee shirt, athletic shorts, two pairs of clean socks, a bar of unscented castile soap - it was not noticed by anyone present.
Hannibal made his usual reservation for Friday at the front desk on his way out, and confirmed that Will had not changed his reservation next week to a different day in an effort to avoid him.
Wednesday and Thursday went by quickly and without note. He experimented with a sourdough starter he had been gifted by a patient, and was encouraged by the results. He finished two drawings of a dark haired nymph leaping amongst ocean waves. He reviewed a submission to an academic journal on the benefits of hypnosis. He received a quote on having one of the drawings framed.
Friday morning was pleasing in its adherence to routine, and he was looking forward to a morning of worthwhile, uninterrupted exercise. He swam, saunaed, and returned to the locker room to shower. He let his thoughts wander where they might but did not linger long on any one impression or idea, no matter how diverting.
As he approached his locker, however, he realized that his lock had been compromised. The door stood very slightly ajar, and the stainless steel lock was hooked on the handle, hanging open. He felt his eyes narrow even as a pleased, fluttering feeling started somewhere below his liver.
How interesting.
He patiently opened the locker door fully and made sure that all of his possessions were accounted for, finding them to be exactly as he had left them. The lock appeared to have been picked, not broken. He may not have noticed that anyone had broken in at all if the thief had not obviously wanted him to.
Although it was abundantly unnecessary, Hannibal turned to look at Will’s locker. It was locked again, with a five digit combination lock possessing such a thick bolt that it nearly did not fit into the handle. It had definitely not been there when Hannibal came in.
He was seized by an impulse to interrogate the staff. Had he asked when Hannibal’s reservation was? How long had he spent in the locker room this morning? Had they alerted him to the damaged lock, or did he habitually visit more than once a week?
Hannibal showered and dressed, that small pleased tension lingering, then locked his locker and headed to the front desk to ask if Mr. Graham had been in that day.
“I am very sorry, Dr. Lecter, but we are no longer allowed to give out scheduling information.”
“Oh?”
“There have been some complaints. Management just told us this morning.”
“Of course.” Hannibal said. “May I ask, is the diving board available next Tuesday, around eight AM?”
“Let me check… No, I’m sorry sir, it’s not. I could reserve it for you at nine that morning.”
“I will try again next week, thank you.”
Will had been clever but Hannibal was keen to not be outdone. Once he was home for the evening, he sat down with his tablet and a glass of Chateau d’Yquem Sauternes and started to research.
Teacher at Quantico, special agent with the FBI, former NOPD officer wounded while on duty. Several papers published on insect activity in relation to body decomposition, and various articles on similar subjects. Purchased his house in Virginia going on ten years ago, and the property had gained a modest amount of value since. Often assisted Jack Crawford, head of the BAU, on especially hard to profile killers.
How very interesting.
Hannibal slept well that night, and his entire weekend proved to be similarly restful. He changed the linens in all the bedrooms, fed his herbs an iron and calcium rich soil additive of his own devising, and decided against having the drawing framed - something in the expression was off, once he had taken the time to consider it at length.
Monday was nearly unbearable, a slew of uninteresting patients doing little to help the day go faster. He bought two dozen oysters and schucked them himself once he was home for the evening. A methodical and sharp task to occupy his hands. He arranged them on a platter over rock salt, pink peppercorns, and coriander seeds with a charred salad and classic mignonette. Hannibal thought of the sea, and Aphrodite, and dissolving pearls in wine.
Tuesday morning started early, and he was out the door before seven. Hannibal recognized his own anticipation, but kept it at a distance as he unlocked his locker and started to undress. It would not do to get ahead of himself.
He pulled off and rolled his tie, belt, and toed off his shoes. He was halfway down the buttons of his shirt when he heard the door open, and soft soled shoes approach, then stop behind him.
“Good morning.”
“Good morning, Will.”
Hannibal did not turn, but continued to undress, listening as Will went to his locker and opened it.
“You’re here early.”
“I find exercise more enjoyable when the facility is less crowded.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever been here when it didn’t feel crowded.”
Hannibal smiled to himself. “Perhaps the new policies regarding scheduling will help alleviate that.”
“I wouldn’t hold your breath.”
Hannibal glanced at him over his shoulder, catching Will in nearly the same position, looking over the top of his locker door. He was shirtless, his belt unbuckled and the first button of his pants undone.
“I would think that your breath control is undoubtedly better than mine.” Hannibal said, all dry pleasantry. “You are the diver, after all.”
Will looked away first, rubbing his hand over his mouth as he tried and failed to hide a smile. They continued to undress in silence, until Will asked lightly, “Not still interested in those lessons, then?”
Nearly against his will, he turned to face Will fully. “I didn’t say that.”
“Great. See you up there in ten.” Will said, breezing past him into the main pool.
Hannibal was left alone again, trying to decide if that interaction had gone better or worse than expected. Will had agreed to spend more time with him, even if only within the club, which was a victory; but Hannibal had not counted on having to physically dive from the same height Will did. He was not afraid of heights, but he also did not make a habit of leaping from them.
Will was waiting for him, already up on the diving board, head slightly cocked to one side as he looked down at Hannibal as he came to stand directly below him.
“How do you propose we start?” The water helped carry Hannibal’s voice, creating a sense of intimacy despite how far apart they were.
“Have you ever been up here?”
“I have not.”
“OK. Watch me, and I’ll talk you through copying my dive.”
Hannibal nodded, feeling not unlike an acolyte looking up towards their idol. Will shot him a knowing look, then turned and took three running steps and bounced once at the end of the board, casting himself off in the same swan like pose Hannibal had first seen him perform; arms extended out, head and chest forward, legs pressed into a single line behind him until just before he hit the surface and thrust his arms over his head, entering the pool like an arrow.
Hannibal watched him as he slowly pulled himself back to the surface and gasped for air, pushing back his hair and slowly smiling up at Hannibal.
“Alright, Mr. Lecter. Your turn.”
“Doctor Lecter, if you will pardon the correction.”
“Of course you are.” His smile faded, but he looked no less amused. “Surgeon?”
Hannibal did not know if he should be offended or flattered at being so easily read. “Former. I currently practice psychiatry.”
“Of course you do. Would you like to discuss why you’re stalling?”
“Am I?”
Will shook his head, looking up at him for another moment before laying back and starting to float. “Whenever you’re ready to begin, doctor.” He said to the ceiling.
Hannibal observed him, laid out like a siren about to wreck a ship, before carefully starting his way up the ladder towards the board. It was not a terribly long climb, but he seemed to have gained much more height than was equal to the number of rungs he had traversed. Coming up and out onto the base of the diving board, the pool below him seemed at once smaller and much larger than he had expected.
“You remember my approach?” Will called up.
“Distinctly.”
“Try to keep it to less than five strides, and you want to end on your dominant leg.”
“And after?”
“Jump.” He laughed, the sound bouncing around the space and seeming to envelope Hannibal’s ears from all sides. “Try to keep your arms out for as long as you can before cutting back in. The timing takes some getting used to.”
It sounded simple enough. Hannibal bounced a few times, testing the feel of the board under the balls of his feet. Looking at the length of it, he guessed he could make it in four strides.
He ran - one, two, three, steps pushing him back up higher than he expected with each impact, but he anticipated the fourth and landed with his right foot down. He pushed down hard, angling himself slightly forward as he cast his arms out.
He could feel that his legs were not angled back as far as Will’s had been, but he did manage to pull his arms forward before hitting the water. He did not go as far down as Will had, but when he came to the surface a few feet from him, Will was grinning.
“Not half bad. Your hips and feet were too straight at the start, but you landed fine.”
He wiped the water from his face. “I felt it. You were much more arched when you came off the board.”
“You’re an inch or two taller than me. You may have to over extend a bit to get the same shape. Want to try it again?”
“I think I would benefit from watching you once more.” Hannibal said, drifting closer.
Will narrowed his eyes, considering. “Alright.”
Hannibal watched his every move as he swam to the edge of the pool, pulled himself out of the water, and started up the ladder. Will again made his approach in three steps, confident in his speed where Hannibal had been cautious, and pushed off the edge with more force. He was beautiful as he fell. The impact with the water was smooth, the ripples seeming to stop before Will even had the chance to surface for air.
“See what I did with my hips?”
Hannibal had the immediate impulse to lie in an attempt to make him dive again, but thought better of pushing his luck so far.
“Yes, I believe so. You achieve the lift of your feet from your pelvis, not your knees.”
“Good. Get back up there.”
He made his way up the ladder again, looking down at Will in the water, struck once more with the idea of him as a siren, calling him to leap to his doom.
He ran, four steps before jumping up and then out. He tried to curl his feet up as far as he could while keeping his knees straight, his back curved, and his chest out. All of that concentrated tension was hard to release in time to pull his arms forward and collide with the water - he felt that he was a moment too late as he hit; his trajectory shallow where Will’s had been deep. Will’s laugh rang out again before he had his head above water.
“Your form was better, but you were too focused on that one aspect. That landing was nearly a belly flop.”
Hannibal frowned. “I hardly believe it earned that title.”
He chewed on his lip, clearly as amused by Hannibal’s argument as he had been with the dive. “Go one more time, then we’ll try something with some flare.”
Hannibal’s third dive received the same reaction as his first. ‘Keep the tension in your spine, not your limbs’ made very little sense until he was falling again, and realised that was in fact exactly what he had been doing.
Will then proposed that they try a forward somersault. Will was clearly adept, but Hannibal had no desire to give himself a concussion shortly before plummeting into a body of water, and asked they try something less reminiscent of acrobatics. Will took it in stride, suggesting instead that they try a dive with a stationary start.
The hour went quickly. Will was a competent teacher, and though Hannibal had masted none of what he had attempted, he was glad of the experience beyond having spent the time with Will. They left the pool together, chatting about Will’s one notable collegiate diving victory and Hannibal’s chagrin at having been unable to witness it. There was a brief pause between them as Hannibal moved towards the sauna and Will toward the showers.
“Is there anyway I can tempt you into joining me in the sauna?”
Will opened his mouth, shut it, then tried again. “I would, really, but I have to get to work by ten or my boss will never let me hear the end of it.”
“A shame. Perhaps I will catch you next week.”
“Think you want another lesson?”
“I can hardly continue to demand your time without offering compensation.”
“No! Not at all, I, uh, had fun. And it’s good for me to watch someone else, helps me be more aware of my own form.”
How pleasant it was to have a conversation go precisely the way Hannibal planned it. “Perhaps I could invite you to dinner instead.”
Will balked even as he blushed. “I don’t, uh. You don’t have to, you know. I was just trying to be nice.”
“I am not. What night would be best for you this week?”
He let out a short, breathless laugh. “I haven’t said yes.”
“You have yet to say no.”
“Is this how you treat all your dates?”
“I reserve it entirely for my diving instructors.” Hannibal took a step closer, letting a small smile curl over his lips. “You may find my manners more to you liking over dinner, however.”
“Are you going to do something atrocious, like order my food for me?”
“I was hoping to cook for you myself.”
“Intimate.” His tone was accusatory.
“I enjoy offering my hospitality to new friends.”
Will bit his lips to fight off a grin, looking away towards the showers. “Let me get back to you. Will you be around later this week?”
“I am usually here on Friday.” Hannibal answered, resolutely not letting an ounce of his desperation leak into his voice.
“Maybe I’ll see you then.” He said, something sly in his tone as he turned and walked towards the showers.
“I look forward to it.” Hannibal said. He stood rooted to the spot for several long seconds as Will walked away, not at all experiencing a short but potent vision of following after him and falling to his knees at Will’s feet in the shower. He did eventually go to the sauna, and while there he certainly did not imagine Will coming to find him and settling in his lap while promising to come to dinner every night for a month.
The man himself was of course long gone by the time Hannibal returned to his locker to dress.
The rest of the week had a sort of lackluster quality. He worked, he wrote, he ate, but none of it held his attention for any longer than it took to sufficiently complete the task. Hannibal was cautiously optimistic as he arrived at the club on Friday, but when Will failed to make an appearance, he swam his usual laps and left without speaking to anyone.
Had he overstepped, asking Will to dinner? He had not thought so at the time, but perhaps he had misread the signs, and now Will was back to avoiding him.
It was clear his patients that day noticed his poor attitude, but none of them asked. He was not sure what he could have told them if they had. He was sure to see Will next week. There would still be opportunities to correct the course. Hannibal recognized that he was disproportionately distraught, but scolding himself did little to alleviate his misery as the weekend wore on.
Snow fell Monday night, and Hannibal was later than usual getting to the pool the next morning. He hurried in to find Will, swimming trunks already on, sitting on the bench that ran between the two banks of lockers with a towel slung over his shoulders. Hannibal’s ribs felt too tight around his lungs as he took in the sight.
“You’re late.”
“Good morning, Will. I did not realize you would be waiting.”
He shrugged. “Felt rude to start without asking you if you wanted to dive today, especially after I had to stand you up on Friday.”
“Oh?” Hannibal hung his bag and slipped off his jacket. “Think nothing of it. I was happy to get my usual laps in.”
“Still. I felt kinda bad.”
Hannibal took his time answering as he continued to undress. “You are under no obligation.”
When Will did not immediately reply, he turned to find him looking away demurely, clearly not wanting Hannibal to think he was being ogled. “I thought we had a good time last week. You were doing well, by the end. Wouldn’t be the worst idea to make it a regular thing, if you’d still be interested.”
Hannibal smiled to himself, and finished putting on his swimming trunks. “You have an optimism regarding my abilities that I do not share.”
“You’re … graceful, when you swim. It’s not beyond your capabilities.” Will said, still not looking at him.
Internally, Hannibal preened. “Perhaps we should both withhold judgement until the end of the session.”
“Right. I could still slip off and crack my head open.”
“If that is a habit of yours, it would be best if you only dive in my presence. I am a doctor, after all.”
Will laughed, short and sharp, shaking his head as he stood and led the way to the main pool.
The first twenty or so minutes went the same way as the previous lesson. Will demonstrated a dive, then coached Hannibal through copying him from the pool below. There was a comfortable rhythm between them.
“Think you’re up to falling backwards?”
Hannibal looked up at the board. “The thought does give me pause.”
Will hummed, considering. “Here, let’s try this.”
He pulled himself out of the pool and gestured for Hannibal to join him at the tiled edge. Once he was out of the water and standing beside him, Will gestured for him to turn around.
“OK, stand with your heels just touching the edge, like that. Now,” Will stepped closer and brought his arms around to Hannibal’s lumbar spine, pressing firmly. “Reach your hands up and press your palms together, then lean back. I’ll hold you, just keep your arms out straight and try to look past them until you can see the water.”
Hannibal was finding it hard to concentrate. Will was stronger than he had guessed, and it sent something in Hannibal buzzing at the thrill of having him so close, holding him steady as he bent back.
“Arms up, and keep your head between your elbows.”
Whatever adjustments Hannibal managed to make were short lived - he was quickly becoming light headed in more ways than one.
“Keep your palms together and your arms up, Dr. Lecter. I am not above dropping you.” Will threatened, but his tone was teasing. “Can you see the water?”
Hannibal had to swallow twice before he felt he could answer. “Yes.”
“Good.” Will pulled back, easing Hannibal back from where he had been arched over the edge of the pool. He released him quickly once they were both upright again, stepping away to a more respectable distance. “When you’re up there, try to keep your heels planted until you can see the water over your hands, then push off. You’re aiming to fall straight down, like a pencil.”
“I am not sure I have the balance to hold myself there.”
“It can be scary for new divers. The worst thing you could do is fall back and land flat on your back in the water. Which would hurt, but won’t kill you.”
Hannibal looked up to the diving board. “I have trusted you so far, Will.”
“Try it. If you get up there and it’s too much, show me another swan dive.”
Hannibal frowned at the implication that he would be unable to complete the exercise, but Will just waved him towards the ladder.
Once he was up, he arranged his feet and brought his hands up and over his head, simply standing for a moment to test his own balance. Hannibal tried to lean into the same arch Will had helped him with, but did lose his balance once his head was bent back, ultimately falling feet first into the pool.
He surfaced to find Will looking down at him with a small smile. “Like I said, it’s a hard dive to get used to. You didn’t trust yourself to keep your feet planted.”
“I believe I also had the wrong end up.”
Another sharp laugh. “Better than flat on your back. Here, get back out.”
Will arranged them the opposite way he had before, guiding Hannibal’s hands to clasp along his spine as he let his arms and head arch up and away over the edge of the pool.
“Feel where my weight is?”
Hannibal made an agreeable noise, but was in fact feeling nothing but the warmth coming off of Will’s wet skin and the taut muscles of his back beneath Hannibal’s hands.
“When I’m right here I can see past my fingers to the water, so if you let go, you can see how I’ll go in. I’ll count to three, alright?”
Hannibal cleared his throat, but his voice still came out deeper than he intended. “On your count.”
“One.”
Wills shoulders were clearly incredibly flexible, pulled back tight behind his head. Hannibal would not have guessed that such lovely, broad shoulders could be so flexible.
“Two.”
The way his spine bowed back too, was extraordinary. Hannibal wanted to run his hands up and down Will’s pale skin and trace the curve of his spine.
“Three!”
To say nothing of the plane of his stomach. Stretched tight, revealing the form of Will’s ribs before fading into the barely defined abdominal muscles.
“Hey, I said three!”
Hannibal took a step back, careful to maintain his hold on Will as he righted himself and lowered his arms, moving them both a step away from the edge of the pool.
“What are you -”
Hannibal cut him off with a hard kiss. Will made a surprised, quavering noise and Hannibal pulled back slightly. He could still feel Will’s breath across his lips.
“What was that for?”
“I apologize. That was rude.”
Will groaned and shoved against his chest, but Hannibal kept his grip. “It’s been rude the whole time! When I was diving on Wednesdays, the guy who swam laps then didn’t stare at me like he hated my guts for twenty minutes before he even got in the pool.”
“You are incredibly distracting. I can hardly be blamed.”
“I’m distracting? I don’t know who sold you those trunks, but they were trying to get you arrested for indecency.”
Hannibal hummed, eyes hooded as he pulled Will flush against his chest. “Is that so?”
As Will opened his mouth to answer, the doors swung open and two older men walked in talking loudly, but quickly cut off as they noticed Hannibal and Will. Hannibal dropped his hands and Will sprung away, face immediately turning pink.
Hannibal nodded to them, then turned and collected their towels from the rungs of the ladder before following Will’s hurried steps out of the pool and towards the showers. The locker room beyond was empty, and Hannibal was in the mood to try his luck. Hannibal leaned forward and caught Will’s hand, pulling him into the sauna against minor protests.
“You were interrupted, Will. What was it you were going to say?”
He huffed, tugging his hand back from Hannibal’s grasp and dropping to one of the cedar benches. “I have no idea. You have a way of making me speak without thinking.”
“And I seem incapable of not analyzing my every word before I dare say anything to you.” Hannibal said as he eased himself down beside Will. “I have done a number of things inconsistent with my character since having met you.”
“Like what?”
“I had not been compelled to break into a gym locker since I was in boarding school, for one.”
He snorted, shaking his head where it was leaned against the tile. “I was so mad. I couldn’t figure out what you wanted.”
Hannibal angled himself slowly. “Surely you have had to fend off advances before.”
“You’ve been remarkably persistent. And, you know, you’re not, um, unattractive.”
Hannibal smiled sharply, easing into Will’s space again. “Is that so?”
Will rolled his eyes at him. “It is. You also don’t want to learn how to dive.”
“I will admit that my participation had little to do with the sport itself and more to do with you, dear boy.”
“I am in my mid thirties, thank you.” Will groused, though he was smiling at Hannibal again.
“And still so impertinent.” He said, curling one hand up and into his damp hair, tugging his head back to expose his throat. “Has no one ever taught you any manners?”
Will gulped, licking his lips. “You can certainly try.”
He was temptation itself, dark hair curling in the humidity, face flushed in the heat. Hannibal pressed their lips together again, holding Will’s head where he wanted it as he deepened the kiss. Will was quickly writhing beneath him, clutching at his chest and shoulders.
Hannibal pressed closer, feeling Will moan as he tightened his grip and half hauled the other man into his lap, eager to test the border between thigh and swimming suit.
There was a loud knock on the glass door, and a muffled voice called out, “Sirs! I am going to have to ask you to leave.”
Will would have fallen to the ground if Hannibal had not kept his hands firmly where they were.
“Is something wrong?” He called out to the front desk attendant glaring in at them through the fogged glass.
Will harshly whispered, trying to free himself. “Oh my god why are you arguing!”
“We do not allow physical intimacy anywhere in the club, sir. Both of you will have to leave.”
Will finally managed to untangle himself and Hannibal stood, calmly opening the door and politely smiling at the attendant. “We apologize. I was not aware of the rules. It will not happen again.”
“I need to ask you both to leave, and there will be a penalty against your membership if the owner doesn’t revoke it.”
Hannibal started to assure the attendant that nothing overly untoward had occurred, but Will started saying ‘sorry, very sorry, so sorry’ in a strained voice, and pulled him towards the lockers. The two men from before were there, resolutely not looking at Hannibal and Will as they quickly dressed and left the locker room.
Will’s face was still pink, and he was avoiding Hannibal’s eyes. Hannibal fancied that perhaps it had been permanently stained that color as they walked through the parking garage to their cars.
“This is the only pool within eighty miles of my house that a real high dive, did I tell you that?”
“You had mentioned it, yes.”
“I paid for a full year, and that was after the application fee.”
“I have been a member at this club for more than ten years. I sincerely doubt they will do anything worse than a slap on the wrist, especially considering who it was that turned us in.”
“Friends of yours?”
“We move in some of the same circles. Mr. Wallace sits on the board of the Baltimore Opera, an institution to which I regularly contribute. I am certain he would be willing to look past one minor indiscretion.”
“Well, put in a good word I guess. Not that I can bring myself to show my face ever again.”
“Maybe I could introduce you to another method of exercise.”
“Oh could you now.”
“Yes, I believe we would both find it incredibly diverting.”
Will shook his head, but he was smiling again. He was truly gorgeous, Hannibal thought, even dressed in an unfortunate canvas jacket.
“Maybe I’ll let you take me to dinner after all, and see where we end up.”
“Will, I would be delighted.”