You and Will had met during a specific case in the FBI. Ever since, you've been close friends; you understood him like no one else could. Not like Hannibal with his psychoanalysis and manipulation, no. You understood him simply because you did. Because you cared.

Tonight you two sat on his couch, sleepy after having a warm cup of tea. Despite being cozied up under a blanket and laid down comfortably, it was late enough to decide it was time to head back to your own place. You yawned and stretched, about to stand up.

But there was the sound of pattering claws against the floorboards. One of Will's dogs jumped up onto the couch and laid its head on your lap.