Hannibal's hotel room, Friday morning

[sharp_as_knives]

Hannibal had been uncharacteristically avoiding his phone last night, and so didn't notice Jono's message until this morning. He winced sympathetically at the anger, and wondered briefly if there were something Fandom at work here. After all, he'd been horrid himself the last few days, but he felt fine today.

He sent off a quick message back as he took stock of the food in the suite's kitchen.

Sorry to hear that; I hope you're feeling better today. I'm in the hotel's gourmet suite. Care to drop by and sample some food?

Comments

[sharp_as_knives]

"I'm a bit of a hedonist myself," Hannibal confessed with a smile. As if the gourmet cooking, suits, and Bentley weren't a clue. "I believe in enjoying life to the fullest, wherever that takes you."

He sliced the apples and finished getting everything else ready.

[furnaceface]

//I must admit,// Jono noted, //that does seem far more liberating than that sense of duty I drag around with me like a noose. Have you got any pointers for living that way? I could almost certainly use all the help I can get.//

[sharp_as_knives]

Eat the rude.

Hannibal shrugged and smiled over at him. "You just need to leave yourself open to the idea of enjoying life. Find interest and beauty in everything."

[furnaceface]

That advice came with a technical difficulty or two, anyway.

//In everything?//

Like the way Hannibal looked while he was wearing a sweater, which flattered his body in completely different ways than his suits tended to? Jono wasn't even being subtle about just how much he was interested, either, eyeing Hannibal appreciatively.

//You know, I think that's something I can manage?//

[sharp_as_knives]

"That's good to hear." Hannibal grinned back. "And yes - everything."

He finished setting all the food to cook, and if he put a little extra showmanship into it, could anyone blame him?

[furnaceface]

//You know,// Jono mused, still watching Hannibal with a keen interest, //I don't think I've ever noticed just how deft you are with your hands.//

Or, if he had, he certainly hadn't been watching them work with quite that same sort of hunger.

[sharp_as_knives]

"Well, I was a trauma surgeon," Hannibal pointed out. "Also an artist. It has literally paid for me to be very good at doing a lot of things with them."

He played his fingers lightly over the spatula before turning the sausage.

[furnaceface]

Ignoring, for a moment, that sausages needed to be turned regardless, there really was nothing subtle about that motion at all, was there? Jono would've licked his lips at that, if he had the ability to do so.

//Sounds like one hell of a point of pride,// Jono decided. //There really is something to be said for a confident man who's good with his hands.//

Granted, Jono was extremely more selective when it came to his tastes in competent, confident men than he was with the fairer sex. Just, sometimes he was less selective than others. Or, perhaps, more observant.

[sharp_as_knives]

Hannibal might not be David Bowie (that was his uncle), but he was no slouch, either!

"I try to be very good at anything I do," he answered only a little archly. "If I can't excel, there doesn't seem much point."

Hannibal wasn't terribly choosy himself, so long as his partner was intelligent, interesting, and interested. They generally had to be very interesting to lure him from other pursuits, but Jono was interesting!

[furnaceface]

Really, if Jono managed to be a telepathic vigilante on fire and still be boring, he was clearly doing something dreadfully wrong.

//Yes, I've seen that quality in you before,// Jono replied, clearly amused by that arch reply. //I've ever confidence that whatever you do set your mind to is in the very best of hands, in fact.//

He gave the knife a confident twirl in his hand, and then deposited it on the counter, to be washed... whenever.

[sharp_as_knives]

"You're not bad with your hands yourself," Hannibal noted, nodding at the knife. "But then, you are a musician, so I shouldn't be surprised."

He plated the food and poured a bit of fresh-squeezed orange juice to go with it, then set the bread in the pan to toast as the last step.

He thought for a moment and cocked his head towards the rest of the hotel suite. "The dining room is an option, naturally, but there is more sun in the living room or bedroom, and a tray to put the dishes on."

He was just saying.

[furnaceface]

Oh, well, there was an opening that Jono could hardly ignore, right there.

//More sun in the bedroom than the living room, would you say?//

You know. For reasons.

[sharp_as_knives]

Hannibal was very good at giving people openings.

"I believe there may be, yes." Hannibal pulled out the tray and started putting dishes on it. "Breakfast in bed always has an appeal, in any case."

[furnaceface]

//Oh? You know, that's something I've never had the privilege of enjoying?//

Outside of hospital beds, but that hardly counted. And sort of fell short in the 'enjoyment' category.

//There's a first for everything, I hear.//

[sharp_as_knives]

Hospital beds definitely did not count.

"What, never?" Hannibal tsked. "Well, we shall have to amend that." He added the toast and silverware, made certain everything was turned off, and picked up the tray. "Right through here."

[furnaceface]

Yeah, there was no way in hell Jono was going to do anything but follow, here. Hannibal. That sweater...

A bed.

//Lead on,// he replied, a few steps behind Hannibal on the way to the bedroom. He was enjoying the view. //I'm anxious to see what all the fuss is about.//

[sharp_as_knives]

"I look forward to showing you," Hannibal answered. Really, he was a very helpful and giving person.

He set the tray down on the bedside table. "Please, wherever you like," he told Jono with a gesture toward the bed. Or he could always be boring and go for the chair. Then he opened the blinds and closed the gauzy curtains to let the light in bright but diffused, nodded in approval, and headed for the bed himself.

[furnaceface]

Oh, pft. Like Jono was going to agree to breakfast in bed and then sit on a chair. That really just defeated the whole purpose, didn't it?

//Here's fine, is it?// Right there, on the bed, actually moving in so that he was seated fairly close to the middle of it. Not at all because body weight and gravity on a bed like this would encourage Hannibal to sit a little closer to him. Really. //I have to say, you really know how to set the mood for breakfast in bed, too.//

[sharp_as_knives]

"It's an art," Hannibal said gravely, though there was a smile in his eyes. "I said I was an artist, didn't I?"

How convenient that the way the bed dipped had his side pressing against Jono's. He pulled the tray into his lap and settled in to eat.

[furnaceface]

//Anyone who's ever so much as seen the product of you spending time in the kitchen would be a fool for doubting,// Jono replied, closing his eyes a little as he set up a telepathic connection between them. Just a link of the senses, taste specifically. And maybe just a little extra, just enough to send an echo of the anticipation that he was feeling across the link to Hannibal.

Anticipation for the food, naturally.

//And anybody who gets a taste of what you're capable of ought to be further impressed from there.//

[sharp_as_knives]

"I should hope so," Hannibal murmured as he got just the right combination of things on his fork. "I work very hard at it."

He took a bite and closed his eyes to savor the taste, doing his best to appreciate every facet of smell and texture as well.

[furnaceface]

There were moments when Jonothon forgot just how sensual an experience the act of eating could actually be.

This was not one of those moments. In this particular moment, it was almost certainly for the best that Jonothon was already sitting down, in fact. His eyes slid closed and he found himself leaning a little more against Hannibal, all the same.

//And it shows,// he managed. //Fuck me, that's fantastic.//

Colourful turn of phrase or an invitation? You decide!

[sharp_as_knives]

Both? Both was good.

"We haven't even gotten to the egg yet," Hannibal pointed out when he was done with a few bites of that. He tore a piece of bread off and broke the egg yolk with his fork, then held out the piece of bread to Jono. "Would you like to do the sopping-up yourself, since you enjoy it?"

[furnaceface]

Oh, sneaky.

//As a matter of fact,// Jono murmured, accepting the piece of bread gratefully, //I would love to. One of my favourite parts of breakfast, in fact.//

Because it wasn't like he was simply going to pass it back to Hannibal once he'd sopped the yolk into the bread, after all. He took a moment to soak up some egg, and then he turned slightly, offering the food to Hannibal by holding it to his lips.

How else was he meant to do it?

[sharp_as_knives]

Any other way would be very messy! They couldn't have that. Hannibal leaned forward enough to eat the bread from his hand, his lips brushing over Jono's fingers as he did.

After all, he wouldn't want to leave any yolk behind, would he?