OOM: For Sinric

[cook_the_rude]

Hannibal's office is brightly lit today, the windows open to let in grey wintery light which washes palely over the furniture and art.

The pictures are Tang dynasty landscape paintings today, interspersed with court scenes of officials wearing complex hats.

Hannibal politely gestures at the couch, then goes to fetch the wine glasses.

Comments

[cook_the_rude]

"There always is," Hannibal says. "The rich can always give their children a better start in life."

[thewidewideworld]

"And eldest sons are a family's greatest hope at honour, if not always the most capable or deserving." He gesture for Hannibal to join him if he wishes. "There are times I can't help but wonder at my own heritage. If perhaps I was a lesser son to be sold off rather than fed."

[cook_the_rude]

Hannibal sits beside him, and puts his arm around him.

"You might even have been stolen for your pretty golden hair," he says.

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric leans into the embrace, resting his head in Hannibal's shoulder. "Perhaps. But it was that golden hair that attracted the court buyer's eye and later, Constantine's. Without it, I might never have been his."

[cook_the_rude]

"It was your ticket into the world that you now live in, in the wings of world history," Hannibal says.

He reaches over to pour wine for them both.

[thewidewideworld]

"But it also makes me an outsider, marks me out in a crowd. That is not always something I take pride in these days."

[cook_the_rude]

"It must be odd, among hundreds of thousands of Chinese," Hannibal muses, offering him one of the glasses.

[thewidewideworld]

"It is." He takes the wine with a grateful nod and savours the first slow sip of it, remembering the pleasures of good Italian wine. "To them I am some alien thing. When so few of them have seen a westerner so close. I feel like a wear a mask more often than my own skin."

[cook_the_rude]

"Do you have a wig to hide your hair if you want to?" Hannibal asks.

[thewidewideworld]

"Sometime I darken it, to make myself stand out less. But it doesn't seem to do my hair any good." He snorts softly. "For all my complaining, I'm still very vain about my hair."

[cook_the_rude]

"Why not a wig?" Hannibal asks. "That would be better for your own hair."

[thewidewideworld]

"It would. I had not thought of such a thing. Perhaps the bar can provide me with one."

[cook_the_rude]

"You shouldn't leave without it," Hannibal says.

[thewidewideworld]

"Then I shall do so, and ask her for some robes as well. It seems easier to dress as a woman when I want to be unnoticed." He sips the wine, letting it warm him.

[cook_the_rude]

"You're not so tall that you'd stand out," Hannibal says.

[thewidewideworld]

"No. It is strange not to seems so short in a crowd. Although Yan is easily a head taller than me. I don't doubt his sons will be too."

He lets his hand fall, resting comfortably on the arm Hannibal has around his shoulders.

[cook_the_rude]

"That is a definite advantage," Hannibal says, warmly putting his hand over Sinric's.

[thewidewideworld]

It's nice, just to be held so. Especially somewhere as familiar and comforting as Hannibal's office. He relaxes a little more, reminding himself that he's safe. His fingers entwine with Hannibal's, focusing on the soft slide of skin.

[cook_the_rude]

Hannibal leans in to kiss his cheek.

[thewidewideworld]

The kiss is warming and he closes his eyes, squeezing Hannibal's hand. He sighs and turns a little to return the kiss to the corner of Hannibal's mouth.

[cook_the_rude]

Hannibal kisses the tip of Sinric's; his fingers move to stroke Siniric's thumb.

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric lets out a soft sigh. "Hannibal." It's by no means a protest, subconsciously opening to the touch.

[cook_the_rude]

"I am here for you," Hannibal says, softly; his fingers keep moving, oh so gently.

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric lets that sink in, still confused and unsure what he needs. But like Ragnar and Athelstan's kisses, Hannibal's touch feels good, healing. He shifts to kiss Hannibal's generous lips, still chasted and soft.

[cook_the_rude]

Hannibal returns the kiss, careful and slow, closing his eyes as if to concentrate entirely on tasting that kiss.