sharp_as_knives | Hannibal's hotel room, Friday morning

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Hannibal's hotel room, Friday morning

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?

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Jono would have to be insane to turn down gourmet cooking courtesy of a close friend! After that nasty mess that was yesterday, he was feeling much better. He'd taken the time this morning to wrap himself up properly for the first time in a few days. Hell, he'd even spent some time in front of the mirror straightening out his hair.

Vanity. That was something he didn't feel particularly frequently. But today?

He fired off a simple text to Hannibal - an On my way that had nearly come complete with exclamation point except Jono's finger had slipped and the message sent early. And then he set off to the hotel, a relatively short trip. It was only a few minutes between Jono's reply text and a knock on Hannibal's hotel room door.

//Knock knock.//

Hannibal had spent no more time than usual in front of the mirror, which was to say more than most men he knew. He was wearing a light sweater and casual slacks today in lieu of a suit, and had opted to leave off shoes and socks unless he decided to go somewhere. His sleeves were neatly rolled to his elbows and he'd gotten as far as putting an apron on.

He smiled at the knock and opened the door. "That was admirably quick. Please, come in." He was pleased to see Jono did seem to be in a better mood today. "I have barely gotten started; I hope you don't mind watching me cook."

He doubted he would. Preparation was an art, and he was good at it.

//Mind watching? Ha, never. Hell, I enjoy cooking myself - nothing as fancy as you do - even though I can't exactly stop to taste-test along the way. Besides, even if you aren't going for showmanship, watching you work is always interesting.// Jono stepped into the room and took a moment to take in the sight he was seeing, here. //Going for the casual look today, hm?//

He should do that more often. It was very flattering on him.

//I like it.//

"Thank you." Hannibal smiled. "And in that case," he held a knife out to Jono, "you can slice the tomatoes. I thought a traditional fry-up and black pudding?"

For no real reason. He just enjoyed spoiling his good friends.

In this exact moment, Hannibal was pretty much Jono's favourite person in the whole world. This moment, right here.

//Sounds fantastic,// he decided, taking the knife and nodding his approval. //Lord, I haven't had something like that in...//

...

//Far too long!//

"A special indulgence, then." Hannibal smiled and gripped Jono's shoulder before turning to get started on the rest.

//Mmm, indeed,// Jono agreed, leaning a little into that touch. Some days, more than others, he could appreciate gestures like that one very much. //It's a good day for indulging, really. Makes up for how absolutely horrid yesterday was.//

That was not a purr. Nope. Really.

And that was not at all a smug look in return.

"So I heard. From Raven, as well. She was worried for you." And he'd just been worried in general.

//I gave her plenty of reason to be, I'm afraid,// Jono admitted, looking... more sheepish than upset, really. Oops. //Everything was just... frustrating, including her, though she really wasn't doing anything to earn me getting so angry at her. I think we've managed to make amends, though.//

Yep. Amends.

Hannibal caught that innuendo (and a bit of her scent on him), and raised an eyebrow as he sliced the pudding. "Is that what they're calling it?" he asked with a chuckle.

//It's a far, far more polite term than what we were actually doing,// Jono teased right back, not particularly caring one way or another about little things like 'modesty.' Hannibal had asked! //I'd be here all day, delineating all of that.//

"Well, while we do have all day, a gentleman never kisses and tells," Hannibal answered, grinning. "How do you like your eggs?"

//I will take them any way you enjoy eating them the most,// Jono decided, actually quite merrily. //Normally I'd say I prefer to be able to sop up as much as possible with toast, but I trust your judgment over my own.//

Anyway, Hannibal was the person who was going to have to eat them, so.

"Sunny-side up it is," Hannibal answered. "I enjoy them many ways; it's a pleasure to indulge a friend." He pulled out the bacon and set it to fry while he got the spinach washed.

[OOC: their meal, more or less.]

And Jono even mostly managed to pay attention to what he was doing while he was cutting the tomatoes. Still, there was something about the way that sweater hung off Hannibal's shoulders...

There was something about a lot of things, today.

//I do have to admit, I enjoy being indulged,// he replied. //Probably about as much as most people enjoy being pleasured. Win-win.//

Oh dear.

"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.

//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.//

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."

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?//

"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?

//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.

"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.

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.

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!

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.

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