Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Will stood in the doorway of Jack’s office. This isn’t the first time he’d been in this room. It had only been a week since Will had almost lost his job for physically assaulting the man, but honestly, Will thought he shouldn’t have been held accountable for his actions. Jack Crawford ran the Behavioural Science Unit and knew who Will Graham was. There was no reason for Jack to try and invade his personal space and adjust his glasses. All Will did was turn the man around and pin him to the desk he was sitting on… with the offending arm held behind his back… nearly dislocating the man’s shoulder.

Anyway, Will figured he owed the man at least one head for letting him keep his job and it’s better for him if it was a serial killer’s than his own.
The first scene they went to was about as tame and pleasant as crime scenes from serial murder investigations go, but god Will hated having to interact with the family. It’s hard to come back from seeing a dead child through their parent’s eyes. Will can’t easily shake grief like that and it isn’t conducive to catching killers. His mind can slip in and out of other faster than they can blink, but Will holds his own through grounding techniques and avoiding too many slip ups as best he can. Holding her father as he came face to face with Elise Nichol’s corpse… was a mistake.

Will knew he wasn’t alone with Jack in the office when he saw the back of the stranger, a tall well dressed man. His hair was a dark blonde and though will couldn’t see any details of the man’s clothing or face, he could tell by the man’s stance and the leather quality of his shoe’s that he came from old money. Will entered the room quietly with his eyes trained on the man’s back as he observed Jack’s pinboard full of murdered girls. The man took a deep breath in and turned around. Will knew the man couldn’t have heard him enter… so the man must have… smelled him?

Will burst into a small fit of laughter at the thought. The tall and very obviously Eastern European man looked at him with strange confusion.

“And who’s this Jack? I didn’t know I wasn’t the only one consulting on this case?” Will barked out, trying to disguise the rest of his laughter as coughs.

Jack stammered and swayed slightly, moving behind his desk. Jack was putting a physical barrier between them like he was delivering bad news… this ought to be good.
Jack seemed more surprised that Will didn’t want to beat around the bush. Will guesses that Jack assumed that he was going to be a good little boy traipsing into the principal’s office. Sit down, shut up and not ask any questions.

“Why don’t you want to introduce him, Jack?” Will had a habit of asking hard questions. A name isn’t usually one though.
Before Jack could respond, the stranger saved him.

“My name is Hannibal Lecter.”

“Oh, really?” Wills eyes lit up with mirth. Because, come on… Hannibal Lecter? That sounds like the name of some pretentious aristocrat. Now judging by his accent and his shoes, Will knew he was dealing with old money. He just wasn’t too sure of why. The options of finding out ran through his head, but his smartass mouth decided to run quicker.

“Is the department in need of funding, Jack? Are you prancing me in front of a bidder like a show pony?”

“If Jack here is a workhorse, you’re more suited for a warhorse from what I’m told.”

Jack chuckles nervously as Hannibal attempts to steal Will’s focus.

“Apologies, Mister Lecter. I’m simply trying to ascertain the necessity of my presence. The last phrase was meant to be comedic.” Will pulled out the fancy words. He knew that money liked to be impressed and sometimes vocabulary stopped them from scratching at him.

“Will, I have gotten a couple reports that some of your behaviour with the team has been… well, frankly, off.”

“I shared insights into the case with my colleagues in the lab. Were the discoveries shocking? Sure. But I never thought the team couldn’t handle it.”

“Will you called our killer a cannibal and we should be looking for creepy bald pipefitters after looking at some metal shavings and one wound.”

“Well, it helps that the body was field dressed Jack. You should be cross-checking hunting licenses with pipefitters, steelworkers, plumbers in the area. Not to mention that our killer’s actually working in a team. And why are you looking so pleased?” Will gestured towards Hannibal, who had been watching the two men argue with his lip slightly quirked and his eyes full of stars. “Don’t answer that yet.”

Will turns back to Jack. “Jack, you knew who I was before you asked me in on this case. You know that my observations are quick and often can’t be explained to others easily. I don’t have time to hand hold my way through this case. You want answers, well, I can give you plenty. You just have to put up with how they come about. Now, back to you.”

Hannibal Lecter stood straight, staring Will down almost the same way he’d been eyeing the case board. Will knew that look. Will disliked that look.

“Are you a fucking psychiatrist? Is he a fucking psychiatrist? JACK!” Will almost didn’t mean to shout that loud, but the intended effect was achieved nonetheless.

Jack stared slack jawed at Will and DOCTOR Lecter looked like he was about to applaud.

“Your deductions are Sherlockian.” Lecter said.

“But I’m real and he’s fiction.” Will retorted. He was a quipper. Though sometimes he knew he’d be better off shutting his mouth. Looking back at the man, Will thought maybe this was one of those times. Jack was just about to flip his lid and try to give Will an order that Will didn’t feel like listening to and Hannibal Lecter’s face looked like he’d just eaten a lemon—well it didn’t exactly look like that, but Will is sure that it the man’s iron self-control slipped for a second that that’s the kind of face that he would be making. He better apologize again…

“Look, I…” Will looked to Jack. Will sighed. He liked his job, his teaching job.

“If I take this man out to lunch, and talk to him a bit can we let this all blow over?” Will said.

“You need help, Will. I talked to Alana…” Will cut Jack off.

“Alana? Alana Bloom? She did this?”

“No, I was going to try and have her talk to you but she said she couldn’t…”

“She gave you the same bullshit I’m sure she’s given others about the professional curiosity, then right? Gave you a referral to Dr. Lecter over here.” Will didn’t wait for confirmation.
“I really don’t want to hear this right now, Jack. This isn’t my job. This is a favor… But I’ll talk to him. To you.” Will refocused his attention back to Hannibal Lecter. He could tell that the man was amused by watching Will and Jack’s interaction. He could tell that right now Hannibal wasn’t exactly a fan of Will’s behaviour, but that he was interested in him. At least one thing is consistent with every other psychiatrist that Will Graham has ever met.

“To put you at ease, Jack.”

“I need a psych eval.”

“I’m not in the field.”

“We’d catch him quicker if you were.” Will couldn’t argue with that. It’s the truth.

“Good. Then lunch is on the Bureau.” Jack said with some finality.

“You should say something.” Will said looking at Hannibal. “This isn’t going how you thought it would. You haven’t gotten more than a word in for…” Will didn’t feel like trying to calculate how much time he spent trying to weasel around Jack.

“You were occupied.” Hannibal smiled. There was something there that Will couldn’t quite see. Will looked down at Hannibal’s tie.

“Are you not fond of eye-contact?”

“Let’s just go to lunch and you can ask me all your questions there.” Will sighed again, feeling that it would only be one of many to come.

“Let’s.”

Will followed the man out of the office. He figured that he’d probably get a better ride in whatever luxury vehicle this European Old Money Doctor drove than his Volvo and he didn’t particularly want Dr. Hannibal Lecter in his car.

The man was weird.

Not that Will could have much to say about that given his own penchant for strangeness.

As they made it to the man’s Bentley (because of course he drove a fucking Bentley), Hannibal opened the passenger side door for him. Will almost chuckled. He kinda felt like a princess.

“What a gentleman you are, Doctor.”

Hannibal seemed to mull over if what Will said was meant to be a genuine compliment or some attempt at humour.

“It’s alright. Don’t think so much about it. I should have just said, ‘thank you’.” Will buckled his seatbelt and Hannibal walked around the car and got in.

As Hannibal started the car, Will spoke up again.

“I should apologize for in there. You didn’t deserve that, but I didn’t deserve getting jumped like that and Jack shouldn’t have tried to use you to make me behave.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“I pinned Jack to a podium the first time he tried to patronize me.”

Hannibal laughed. Will softened for a moment as Hannibal drove them out of the parking lot. Will doesn’t usually make people laugh. Not like that at least. Bitter sardonic laughter, sure. But genuine laughter was not common for Will.

“I can’t tell if it’s the violence or my willingness to speak on it that’s causing your laughter. Though it may be some combination of both. Did you get a file on me?” Will asked. The statements may seem disjointed to people listening in, but that’s just how Will Graham’s mind works. He is always jumping from thought to thought to thought.

Will waited patiently for an answer.

“Yes, though I had heard of you before, I must confess.”

“It’s better you did. If I had to find out, things might get rocky.”

“You don’t like people keeping things from you.”

“Not things like that. Everyone has their secrets. It’s only natural.”

“But not from you, do they?” Hannibal glanced at Will.

“I’m not God. I don’t know everything.” Will said bitterly.

“I’m not saying you are, though a skill like yours may be divinely useful. You have pure empathy and I’m sure that makes things difficult for you. I imagine everything you see and learn touches everything else in your mind. Your values and decency are present, yet shocked at your associations, appalled at your dreams. No forts in the bone arena of your skull for the things you love.” Will knew the other man was staring at him. They were lucky to be on a straight away. Hannibal wanted to see how Will would react to that. He must have had that line ready for quite a while. Will held down the chuckle perching in his throat.

“I know I said I’d talk to you, but I didn’t say I’d make it easy for you, Doctor. Please let me just tell you what you need to hear so we can get the psych evaluation over.”

Will had to try his best to ignore the waves of disappointment radiating off of Hannibal.

“Please, call me Hannibal.”

“Why?”

“Because it would make you more comfortable not to think of me as your psychiatrist.”

“It would make you more comfortable, then.” Will said matter of factly.

“Yes.” Hannibal felt breathless. He’d been watching Will’s mind work for the past half hour, and he really didn’t know what to do. He felt lucky, so lucky for many reasons. Lucky he never met a detective like this in his years in Paris, in his years in Florence. He wasn’t so well honed then. Will would have had his younger self in cuffs faster than Hannibal cared to imagine. If Hannibal was just a bit more or less self-preserving, he’d give Jack a referral or fail him and advise Jack to keep him on as Will’s psychiatrist to allow the Bureau to keep using Will. Hannibal also felt lucky for another reason; Hannibal wanted to see him bloody. He could feel the appeal welling in his imagination. Will was an attractive man but a mind like that is dangerous. Hannibal’s interest is peaked and that could be, will be, poor for Will Graham.

Hannibal drove a bit quicker to the restaurant he’d chosen after that.

When they arrived to the small, but upscale café, Will raised a brow.

“Don’t think this is within our budget, Doctor Lecter.”

Hannibal’s face pinched a bit. Will used his title again. Will grinned.

“That really does bother you, huh? Hannibal?” Hannibal’s face returned to its previous smirk.

“I think you’ll find I have a habit of getting what I want.” Hannibal said in reference to the budget, completely ignoring Will’s other question.

Will chuckled, letting himself be charmed.

Hannibal was staring again. His mind just whirring, almost audibly to someone like Graham.

“You’re careful.” Will blurts.

Hannibal looks at him surprisedly as he holds the door open for Will.

“Careful? Not the first word that comes to mind for most when describing me.”

“No. I’m sure it’s ‘poised’ or ‘graceful’, ‘charming’ or ‘kind’. But people like that are boring. You’re more interesting if you’re being careful.” Will nearly smirks at Hannibal’s taken aback expression. It’s minute, but Will is getting better and better at reading and predicting the man.

Will sits back and observes as the waitstaff greets Hannibal and Hannibal requests a table. Will can tell that Hannibal is well known here but doesn’t come often. They don’t have a table reserved for the man like they would for the president or an investor, but they rush to prepare one like they would for a minor celebrity.

“Whose company am I keeping, Hannibal?” Will cheeks, knowing that while everything he says holds Hannibal’s attention, the doctor seems to preen a bit when Will uses his name.

“I may have my circles, much as you have yours. I’m sure if we were back at the bureau or maybe some criminology department at some major university, the seas would part biblically for you.”

“Not in a good way, Doctor.” Will watches as Hannibal deflates. How much power does Will’s familiarity hold over the other man? They only just met.

Better for Will to stay in Hannibal’s favor though, so he decides not to test it.

“What are you thinking about, Hannibal?”

He watches Hannibal look at the menu. Hannibal looks up at him under his lashes, calculatively.

“What would be light enough on the palette to tolerate what you do for work.”

Will blinks. Lie. Now, to address it or let it lie. To name the sin, or…

“What are you thinking about, Will?”

“You’re a great liar. Talented.”

Hannibal pauses again.

“Not enough to sneak it past you.”

“So why’d you try?”

A look flashes over Hannibal’s face of what might look like embarrassment, but Will knew better. This man was never ashamed of anything he’s ever done in his life. He could only be ashamed of something unexpected, something unfamiliar. Innocent. Will forces himself to focus on innocent explanations. His mind doesn’t tend to make positive associations as quickly as negative associations given his profession and own wavering morality.

Hannibal Lecter is nervous though. Nervous about something.

“You like me. More than you thought you would.” Will states. “You don’t like people like that often.”

Hannibal’s stare deepens. He looks almost like a predator. There’s a deeper attraction, but Will is NOT ready to look at it. He refocuses his own gaze down to his menu. Just in time for Hannibal to shoo away the approaching waiter and buy them a bit more time to order.

“No. I suppose I don’t. You are unique. In a way that I have not considered before.” Hannibal finally replies.

Will takes a sip of the glass of water on the table in front of him and clears his throat. This is getting too intense for him. Will decides to steer the conversation to something easier, lighter.

“What did you hear about me before we met, Hannibal?” Will watches Hannibal’s posture alter slightly as Will says his name. Will tries shake the idea of Hannibal needing Will’s full consideration out of his head.

Hannibal considers Will, like he’s picking his words in order to cause him the least offense.

“It’s ok, Hannibal. It’s not going to all be my impressive track record or my charm and wit.” Will jokes.

“I’ve read articles about you by some of your former coworkers, some reviews of your classes by your students, and Mrs. Lounds of TattleCrime has done a little reporting on you since she caught word of your consulting on the case.”

“Shouldn’t read her. She’s not… She’s a good journalist for entertainment, but she doesn’t actually care about the level of truth in her work.”

“She’s underrepresented you, for sure.” Will decides to take that as a compliment.

“So what were you expecting?”

“Not you. Have you decided what you are going to order, Will?” Suddenly, Will remembers that they are there to eat and just at that moment, his stomach rumbles.

“At this point in the game, I don’t care what I eat as long as it’s soon.”

Hannibal smiles as if he was a cat who just caught his own lunch.

“If you don’t mind, I can order for both of us now? That way the orders are in and being prepared while we continue our conversation.”

How could Will refuse when Hannibal looks so excited? He just nods in response and puts the menu down, surprised to feel a little relief at the decision being made for him—especially when he couldn’t keep his eyes off of the high double- and triple-digit options on the menu for long enough to actually read the food offerings. Oh well, now he can place the blame for the bill squarely on Hannibal’s shoulders.

“Anything with a coffee, please,” minding his Ps&Qs in custom with his southern manners.

Hannibal’s invisible smirk widened. He seemed more than pleased with Will’s remaining preference. Happy that Will still cared even if he was handing Hannibal the reins even over something so insignificant.

“You have trust issues, don’t you.” Will wasn’t asking. Again.

“I don’t recall this lunch being about me.” Hannibal motions to the waiter and places an order lowly so Will didn’t really pick it up. Soon enough, a cup of some espresso drink is placed in front of him, still steaming in it’s salonesque style cup on a saucer.

“What is it? Smells like coffee, but… I don’t know if this will tide me through my afternoon classes.”

“It’s a house blend americano. Very simple beverage closest to what you’d be familiar with if you prefer ground coffee to artisan or espresso. I can request cream or sweetener if you prefer, but I didn’t presume so.”

Will takes a sip of the drink. It’s good.

“No need. It’s fine. You’re right. I usually don’t prefer to add anything. And you were right before, but you’re the one who’s supposed to be asking me questions. You are avoiding doing so.” Will raises an eyebrow and drinks more of his coffee.

“Either you like me questioning about you-for some reason” Will pauses for emphasis and to hold in a laugh. “Or you don’t want to complete this evaluation- for another reason.”
“Couldn’t those reasons be the same?”

“That’s confirmation that they are. You want me to find you interesting and you want to spend time with me.” Will pauses again to gauge Hannibal’s reaction. Just as he expected, there is no embarrassment in the man’s face. He’s never embarrassed about what he wants.

“Well, you’ve caught my attention now, Hannibal.” Will watches him shift again. “I hope you enjoy it. Most people don’t.”

The food comes shortly after and Will is all too ready to eat. Hannibal does something with a napkin and sets it on his lap. Will ‘hmms’ to himself before copying. It’s only proper.
Looking into his plate Will sees a salad decorated with steak, romaine, red onion, blueberries, bleu cheese crumbles, candied walnuts, heirloom cherry tomatoes, and red wine vinaigrette.

“Opening up the meal,” Hannibal says casually as if he didn’t just spend upwards of $30 on a salad on the bureau’s dime. He’s committed, at least. Will can’t fault him for that.
Will tries his best to maintain polite eating habits. He sticks to the basics but he is hungry and can’t completely stop himself from shoveling a few bites in here or there. He hasn’t fully analyzed his own thought process in a long time and doesn’t plan to now just because the handsome gentlemen across from him wants him to be interested in him. Does he want Hannibal to be interested in him too? Will shakes the thought away and focuses on the food. There is something niggling there though. Something about Hannibal that makes Will feel comfortable, more comfortable than he’s been since his time on the force walking the beat in the alleys of New Orleans. Will refocuses quickly and finishes the food in his mouth.

“You should though. Ask me questions. I said I’d be as honest as I can and I meant it.”

“Honest as you can?”

“Well, I mean I’d like to keep my teaching position at least.” Will jokes. Hannibal seems charmed.

“I understand. Maybe you could tell me a bit about your ‘assault’ on Jack Crawford, then?”

“I don’t think you could call it much of an assault. I got him down and let him up fairly quickly.”

“He’s a large man. It takes quite a bit of power to subdue someone of his stature. You seem to consider it nonchalantly.”

“It really wasn’t… I caught him by surprise, I guess. His brain doesn’t work like mine, and I guess he couldn’t tell that sudden movements around someone you don’t really know that well are probably not the best idea. Didn’t see me comin’.”

“Are you often prone to violence if someone moves too quickly?”

“No, not usually.”

“Then what about this situation do you think caused your reaction?”

“I don’t usually do all the work when I’m talking to a psychiatrist.”

“That doesn’t seem like it would serve you. Self-reflection and introspection are crucial to self-improvement- if that is a goal of yours.”

“Look at you, already setting therapeutic goals for me and making plans. You can’t be my therapist, you know? I don’t think it’d serve your purposes, Hannibal.”

The next course was served then while Hannibal sat quietly, trying to access what Will thought of him and what his purposes are. Hannibal doesn’t quite know what he wants either. He’d been complicit in letting Jack and Will direct him up to this point, but he understands his goals never aligned with either of them. Hannibal wants to see Will Become, but how can he manage that now? Now, with how dangerous this remarkable boy is? Sometimes it feels like Will is seeing into him, peering through the veil and neither of them are ready for that. Ready? Is that something Hannibal wants? Hannibal sits and considers it for a moment. What is it that he wants? All Hannibal knows is the fact that he does want something.

“What purposes are those?” Hannibal asks and Will looks at him in that way once more. Hannibal has to resist the urge to shiver, feeling barer, but freer than he has since before he cares to remember.

“You want to be my friend.” Will says as if it is the simplest thing in the world, as if the revelation didn’t turn Hannibal Lecter on his head, steal the breath from him, and leave him swinging by his foot, much the fool in any set of cards.

“Yes.” And Hannibal is breathless again as Will Graham smiles at him, genuinely.

Hannibal had thought he was beautiful in Jack’s office, all irritation and jumbled nerves, but here, relaxing, in control, and happy? Will Graham is an angel on earth. All of a sudden, the lights are too bright, the café is too quiet, and all Hannibal can focus on is that seafoam stare returning his. He fiddles with the napkin in his lap as Will looks away and starts to eat the dish Hannibal ordered him; Lamb, medium rare, drizzled in tzatziki sauce with extra decorating the plates, spinach, hibiscus gastrique, au gratin potatoes. Hannibal hopes to feed him something just as symbolic, something sacrificial.

“Would you join me for a meal, Will?”

Will laughs and the once casual meal feels more intimate than any Hannibal has ever shared in darkened dining rooms or restaurants of better quality and reputation.

“Aren’t I, already?”

“I would love to have you-” Hannibal is quick to rephrase. “I want to cook for you.”

“Like I said, being my therapist wouldn’t serve your purposes.” Now, Hannibal thinks more that instead of Will being an angel, that he’s a lying devil. If the man could truly see into Hannibal the way he’d been proving, Will’d know that Hannibal didn’t just want to be his friend. And here he was teasing him as if they’d known each other for far longer than a morning. Hannibal wants to scream. He wanted to hope, to pray. This meant something to him. And it must mean something to Will. This connection has to be as rare for Will as it is for Hannibal or it will drive him insane.

“Yes.” And Hannibal is reeling again, feeling once more that the man across form him has read his mind and answered the pressing questions there rather than the invitation his mouth posed. Dangerous, this is dangerous.

Hannibal hasn’t touched his entrée up to this point, in favor of watching Will eat. He takes Will’s acceptance of his request as his invitation to begin eating his own food.

“Friday evening?” He asks before Will starts his next bite.

“Maybe. I’ve a killer to catch for Good Ol’ Uncle Jack. But this isn’t the fish he’s after.”

“Oh?”

“No, he wants the Ripper.” Hannibal eats, maintaining his composure as best he can, and by any standards set by men, it’s impressive. But for Will Graham? Hannibal is ever grateful of the man’s averted gaze.

“Chesapeake Ripper. If Jack’s record is anything to go by, this was just a tester case to pull me into the Ripper investigation. I won’t though. I’m sure I’ve told you, but this is the only case that I will work.”

“Why is that? Do you not enjoy the work?”

“Not that, but I won’t work for a man like Jack, mad old dog he is. It’d wear on my more than my condition. That and how much of this position has been front facing.”

“Isn’t teaching engaging with the public in a similar way?” He changes the subject without earning the other’s suspicion.

“Only introductory courses. The only students in the academy who don’t know about me are the freshmen. The older students have either heard a rumor or taken one of my classes. I’m either beloved or despised. I’m only a year out from tenure. Can’t wait to have more time for research and publication.”

“I’ve read some of your work.”

“Oh? I can’t imagine my best’s relevant to your field. Unless you read it a long time ago or very recently?” Will fishes a little for information on Hannibal’s past. His demeanor is too sterile, and his hands are too steady for him to have always been a psychiatrist.

“Recently.”

“In preparation to meet me.” Will finishes for him.

“Yes. I wanted to see if something could be gleaned from your work.” Hannibal says at a lower volume, almost like a confession.

“Did you find anything?”

“Nothing that stood out to me then, but now, yes.”

“Oh? Do proceed.”

“You spoke better of your insects than the bodies donated to the University of Tennessee.”

“Better?”

“More in depth, with more care.”

“What does that mean?”

“I think we have similar tastes, or distastes for that matter.”

“Hannibal, you don’t like people, do you?” This may be the first observation that Will made that he actually asks as a question.

“I’m not sure what you mean.”

“You’re social. Far more social than I am. Could tell that from the quickness of your dinner invitation, but you aren’t forthcoming with information about yourself. I think that if I wasn’t me and didn’t pry as much as I have, I’d leave this table not knowing much more about you than your name and occupation. Does anyone know you?”

“I have friends.” Hannibal refrains from becoming defensive.

“You have acquaintances and by your leap to friendship first, I don’t think you have family. Sorry to say, but you must know by now that I mean no offense by it.”

“I do not. Have any living family, that is.”

“I’m sorry. I don’t either.” Will offers the fact up as if it could cover his wound. At least they’re bleeding together. That’s probably the best consolation Hannibal could be offered.

Hannibal watches Will finish his plate. Their meal is ending. It’s ending. Hannibal tries to steady himself, but he can feel that winter on the back of his neck, his cheeks, his arms. 

“Dessert?” comes out barely above a whisper.

“Don’t ask for what you want. Not something you want so bad.” And Will Graham is a devil.

Hannibal orders quickly and sends the staff off again but asks that dessert be billed separately. Will raises his eyebrow, but leaves it be. Hannibal doesn’t want to share this part of their meal with even the eyes of the finance department of the FBI.

Minutes pass before they continue their conversation, but the silence is pleasant, processing.

“I won’t press or ask about a subject like that. I shouldn’t have brought it up.”

Hannibal dismisses the statement.

“We shouldn’t make such apologies, I’m sure we’ll have to do so again, and by the time we say it enough, we’ll have grown bored of it.”

“Could you grow bored of me?” Hannibal has to take a moment to consider. As he does, the warm bread pudding arrives at the table. There are two servings, though Hannibal did consider only purchasing one. Best not to put his cards on the table yet, not when Will has a pair of bullets.

They both start to eat and the question is soon forgotten as the warmth of the dessert spreads across their palates, recentering them both- Pulling Hannibal out of that dread winter and Will out of Hannibal’s head for a reprieve.

“I’ll try to make it to dinner Friday. What time?”

“Seven o’clock. I shall give you the address.”

“Text it to me.” Will hands Hannibal his phone and continues to eat his food. Hannibal tries not to weigh the body-warmed device in his hand as he creates a new contact in the man’s phone. He notes that there aren’t many. He gives the device back quickly when he finishes.

The earlier question rings in his head once more. “Could you grow bored of me?” Not like this, dear Will, not like this.

Chapter Text

The drive back to Quantico was comfortable but quiet. Neither of the men wanted to do anything to upset the ease they’d created within each other. Will elects not to dig deeper into Hannibal Lecter at this time. That same feeling from earlier that Will chose not to analyze comes back full force. The comfort. To examine it though, will take a level of patience and introspection that Will Graham hasn’t harnessed yet. His trouble has always come from looking too deeply into others and becoming what he sees. He’s terrified of what he might become if he turns his own power on himself. Years of wrapping up the pieces of himself that didn’t fit have shaped his psyche into a wriggling black mass with no true form. He’s afraid there may be nothing but smoke underneath the bandaging or something more horrific than anything he has ever gleaned from others.

Hannibal on the other hand, appears to him as a marble statue, a bit cracked here and there with something strange, unexpected, and dark peeking out. And every time Will calls his name, he sees the darkness under the cracks perk up as if they’re called to attention by his presence, or he says some combination of words that cause Hannibal’s eyes to glaze over he can see the edges of the cracks shift and resettle. It’s as if it is an organism with an exoskeleton that it can reshape at will. He can feel it. It feels hungry, yearning, wanting. It feels hungry.

Will settles comfortably back into the present. Hannibal may want something from him, but the not knowing isn’t eating at Will the way he thought it would. He knows that his own offer of friendship was a placative effort, but that right now, the marble wrapped around whatever Hannibal is has slid back into its ‘proper’ place and Will won’t get to see more of Hannibal without doing something reckless or destroying what they have presently.

“Did I pass this evaluation, Doctor?” Will says jokingly. Feeling comfortable enough.

Hannibal while once again not appreciating the use of his title instead of his name, smiled back.

“While I didn’t get much out of you in regards to your work, I will tell old uncle Jack that you seem remarkably well adjusted for what you experience and that he has no need to fear for you or the safety of his ‘staff’.”

“Safety.” Will barks out a bitter laugh. “I know who reported me.” Will says nonchalantly, almost wanting to see if Hannibal would be curious—and he was.

“I would ask how, but knowing your skills, I can take a guess.”

“Yeah well, there are only a few people close enough under Jack to feel comfortable reporting a coworker, and even fewer of those who have a personal enough dislike of me to do so. I may say strange shit sometimes, but my results are usually enough to have people prefer that I am on the team rather than off. Less work for them, usually.”

“This team hasn’t gotten to witness you.”

“No, but they will.”

“Would you keep me updated on your case? So I can know more about your process?”

“To analyze me? No.” Will takes a moment to reconsider. “No, you just want to see what I’d do, huh, Hannibal?”

Hannibal shifts again. Cracks in the marble opening up and the creature underneath wriggles unfollowably. Hannibal looks a little sheepish, if he could look sheepish with all that self-control the man has.

“You are unpredictable. I don’t know what you would do in any given situation. I am curious.”

“That’s unusual for you, isn’t it? Not the curiosity. I think you are a very curious person, but the unpredictability… You usually have an idea of how situations work out, don’t you.” Hannibal has gotten used to Will’s rhetorical ‘statements.’

“You probably pride yourself on that ability. Means you are really intelligent and observative.” Hannibal preens at Will’s compliment. Will smiles. Maybe it isn’t good to puff Hannibal’s ego up, but it’s fun to watch, especially when Will can tell that Hannibal isn’t looking down on him anymore… Not that he ever explicitly had, but he did seem a little snooty back in Jack’s office.

“You like hearing me talk, too.” Will says. “It’s nice. To be able to talk, to want to talk.” Now it’s Will’s turn to be sheepish.

“Must’ve used some psychiatrist trick to get me so comfy so quick. What’d you do, Hannibal?” He jokes with uncharacteristic affection.

Will watches Hannibal’s hands tense on the wheel.

“No tricks, not yet.”

“Oh, but you’d like to.” Will chuckles and Hannibal’s cracks shift again.

“You gotta stop looking at me like that.” A little more of his deep Louisianan bayou accent starts to slip.

“Excuse me?” Hannibal turns his head to face him more fully.

“Eyes on the road, Doc.” Hannibal shoots him a look and faces forward. “Stop looking at me like you want to eat me alive.”

The car swerves.

“Whoa what the fuck!” Will shouts as they straighten out again. “Hannibal! What happened?” Both of them are panting. Hannibal is shaking.

“Deer. In the road.” Hannibal bites out the lie between his teeth as he pulls off the road for a second to catch every nerve of his that shook out in the swerve.

“Christ, I didn’t see.” Will shakes his head. If he caught the lie, he didn’t care to call it out.

“You good to drive again, Hannibal? I could take it from here if you like.”

“We will be just fine. Just a moment, Will.” Hannibal takes a breath and starts the drive again. They’re only a few minutes out from the academy now. Plenty of deer live in the woods surrounding the marine base, so it’s a believable lie.

“All shook up for a minute there, Hannibal. It’s okay to take a minute.” Will notices that Hannibal didn’t react to hi name the same as he usually had.

“I am fine.” Hannibal waved his hand. “Simply glad there aren’t other drivers on the road now. I pride myself on my insurance rate and I would hate to see my record tarnished.”

Will laughs again and Hannibal is just damn elated. The sound rings through the Bentley and Hannibal is ever glad that the heat of the day didn’t require AC or the windows down so he can capture as many decibels as possible.

“That’s funny. Funny.” They pull into the parking lot. Hannibal actually parks a lot closer to Will’s Volvo- though he doesn’t know it.

“I’d love to talk more Hannibal, but I mentioned those Freshmen to you right? I’ve got an intro to Criminology lecture in less than 15 minutes and I can’t think of a good enough reason to get that many angry emails tonight.”

“Don’t work too hard. I’ll see you on Friday.”

The rest of Will’s day is tedious at best. A simple lecture over a simple subject to students who simply don’t understand. He doesn’t struggle to power through, though. The coffee Hannibal got him must have been stronger than Will thought.

Jack comes to see him as he’s packing up his office about 20 minutes after his last lecture. He’d assigned gradings to his TAs and checked over the last exam.

“Hannibal came into my office after your lunch. What a bill that was.”

“The lunch or the therapy?” Will cracks.

“Both unfortunately. I don’t know how we’ll be able to afford him in the future.”

“He’ll be doing some consulting?”

“He’ll be profiling some cases for us on a probationary status.”

“Is this all you came to tell me, Jack?”

“No. You passed your eval.”

“Figured I would.” Will turns his back to Jack and smiles into his bag a bit. It does feel like a weight has been lifted though.

“Just letting you know- oh and your classes have been suspended until we finish this case. Your department head is taking over. Said she’s happy to help. Apparently, you never cause her any trouble.”

“She respects basic boundaries. Like the one I thought I set in the lecture hall.” Will huffs. “Alright. I get the hint, Jack. I’ll hop to. Heading back to Minnesota then?”

“We head back tomorrow. Lecter’s coming with us, but don’t expect to board with him.”

“First class.” Will didn’t ask but he did smile a little at the thought of the good Doctor Lecter slumming it in economy.

“He may prove to be more expensive than he’s worth.” Something tells Will that’s not possible.

“If that’s all, I’ve gotta go set my dogs up for a long stay.” Will walks Jack out of his office and locks up before heading home, watching for deer the whole way.

Hannibal’s day is spent a little differently. He didn’t have any patients after his lunch with Will. Lucky for him because the tension and stress that woke up on the drive back would have driven his clients madder than him. He’d never been much of a pacer, so he spends a couple of hours trying to compose a new piece on his theremin because his hands could not be trusted on his harpsichord and he couldn’t sit still long enough. He was restless, flitting from thing to thing. He left half-finished sketches, a bowl of whipped cream for some petit four he was making but didn’t have the patience to continue, and a few books left out and opened as he tried to concentrate on anything other than Will Graham. His mind was racing. And since he was alone in his home the dishevelment he experienced internally was beginning to present itself on his person. His hair was ruffled and out of place and his clothes had looked much more put together this morning. His shirt was untucked. The sleeves were rolled unevenly and all of his moving and sitting and moving and sitting had rumpled the crisp ironed lines in his slacks.

Then the doorbell rang. Hannibal quickly righted himself, adjusting his hair and clothes. There wasn’t much he could do about the state of his home except try to entertain this unexpected guest outside of his study and kitchen. No one is really close enough to Hannibal Lecter to see that something is wrong if he isn’t entertaining in these two rooms in an one-on-one interaction.

Alana Bloom waits at the door. Hannibal answers quickly.

“Alana, to what do I owe the pleasure?”

“I heard you met Will today. I’m so sorry, I should’ve warned you about what Jack was asking of you.”

“It is quite alright, would you like to come in?”

“Yes, I’m sorry for coming without calling first, it’s room.”

“My home is always open to friends.” Alana Bloom was not Hannibal’s friend, he thinks. Not like Will Graham could be. Will Graham will be in his home in four days. The thought of it makes Alana’s intrusion more acceptable. “Please come in.”

Alana enters and Hannibal guides her to a sitting room. It isn’t a room he normally uses but Alana doesn’t seem to notice. Hannibal checks the time, 6:00.

“Can I get you anything? A glass of wine?”

“A beer?”

“Unfortunately, I don’t have much stocked. I can check for you.”

“A glass of wine is fine.” Hannibal smiles at her compliance.

“So,” Alana offers. “You met Will Graham.” She isn’t offering room for him to deny it, though he isn’t sure why he should.

“That I have.” Hannibal smiles in spite of himself. “I won’t leave you waiting. He is remarkable.”

Alana hesitates for a moment and decides that whatever she’s about to say is okay.

“Yes… He is certainly that, but he wasn’t… I don’t know rough? Rude? Surly?”

“He was all of those at first, but mostly because Jack hadn’t discussed our meeting ahead of time. Very rude of him.” Hannibal clicked his tongue. “I can’t imagine that anyone with his ability or history with mental health professionals would be too pleased to be ambushed like that.”

“But Will wasn’t rude? How’d you manage that?”

“I gave him a puzzle.”

“That’s not a good idea Hannibal. He moves too fast. It’s good that it’s over, right?” Hannibal doesn’t respond. “It is over, right?”

“No, I’ll be helping Jack with a few cases.”

“But you’re done with Will?”

“You seem very concerned about him, Alana. Is there something you’d like to tell me?”

“No.” Alana said quickly. “Well, not no. Will is a difficult person and I just don’t want to see two people I care about getting into the type of confrontations that Will Grham surrounds himself with.”

“I don’t think you will have to worry about that Alana. Will and I get along well actually. Though I will say, for someone you care about, you don’t seem to have much of a positive opinion of him.”

“I don’t have a negative opinion; I am just trying to be fair. Will… Will and I have a bit of a history and…” Alana trails off as a blush crawls up her neck. She takes a sip of the wine that Hannibal brought her. It is obvious that while Will Graham may have been a romance of the past, Alana thought Hannibal could be one of the future and she doesn’t want the two to mix.

“Alana, I’m not sure that is relevant.”

“It feels relevant. We never actually got into a relationship or became a couple. We just talked about it a few times. We had been circling each other a few months after we met, but he turned me down hard. It wasn’t really his fault. We wouldn’t have worked out. He just didn’t need to be so sure about it.” She is trying to clarify to him that while she has feelings about the situation, she is still available to him if he is interested. Unfortunately for Alana though, someone else has captured his attention.

“He has a tendency to see what others can’t and with his rate of success in that skill, I can’t imagine uncertainty would be helpful to him.” Hannibal has somehow allowed himself to be put on Will’s defense.

“No, but you have to understand that that level of insight into other people can make relationships difficult to say the least. And having been on the receiving end of it, I can tell you that it isn’t fun there either.”

“Maybe Will just needs to find someone who suits him.” Alana scoffs at that.

“That’s a tall order, Hannibal. I can’t think of a single person who would actively seek out a relationship with someone who could read their mind. There are no secrets with Will, no surprises. You can’t want anything with Will because he will find out and either give it to you or purposely keep it from you. It is intense, but it is also an unbearable way to live.”

Hannibal takes a drink from his own glass, letting Alana’s thoughts ruminate over the salon. Alana must think he is considering her information and deciding against continuing therapy with Will. Instead, Hannibal’s thoughts are turning the information over and over again in wonder. How cruel could his boy be already? Was Will manipulating him at their lunch? Hannibal had indulged Will again and again in ways he wouldn’t usually have. How much of that was of his will and how much was because of his Will?

“I don’t doubt that you know what you are talking about, but I will simply say that I had a different experience with him.” Alana seems flustered, as if she is considering just once that the issues that faced her and Will getting into a relationship may have more to do with herself than she had originally had.

“I think I need to go. Just consider what I’ve told you, Hannibal.” Hannibal walks her out cordially, but internally he feels like steam’s escaping through his ears. He hasn’t felt an emotion like this since childhood. He wants, and god, god, he wants, but someone else has touched the object of his desires first and that is driving him crazy. Part of him wants to add Alana’s business card to his rolodex. Part of him wants to learn the name of every person who ever looked at Will Graham with an intention and gut them where they stand.

The rest of the evening passes by quietly and without interruption for both parties, Lecter and Graham. Will spends a quiet night in with his dogs, meal prepping the dog’s raw diet for the next two weeks and filling his freezer in the his work shop, preparing for the sitter to come and stay with them for the next couple of days and Hannibal relaxes by contemplating Friday night’s dinner menu. It’s going to be a feast.

As soon as Graham touches down in St. Paul, he sees a familiar face waiting for him on the other side of the gate.

“Hannibal, we didn’t have the same flight.” Graham raises his brow at the other man, but he’s smiling anyway.

“I arrived three hours ago.”

“And you stayed in the airport? Hannibal, that’s ridiculous.” But Will is still smiling.

“Let’s go then.” Hannibal grins back. They go get Will’s bags and make their way out of the airport.

Hannibal had called for a rental car. Not a Bentley this time, but he must have connections at whatever rental company he uses because it’s another expensive foreign make. Hannibal helps Will put his bag in the back. Once more, Hannibal opens the passenger door for Will. Will can’t help but feel like he could get used to this.

“So, welcome to the team, Hannibal. Do you want to start working now?”

“Of course, there’s been a lull in the kidnappings right now, but the killer is surely going to strike again and soon.”

“Is that part of your profile, Doctor?” Hanibal bristles.

“His last catch was unsuitable and thus returned. He will want to find a replacement.”

“Correct. I told Jack to start screening metal workers yesterday, but I doubt he did anything with the information. He’s kind of dismissive like that, which is interesting when you think about the reason he got me on this case in the first place.”

“To help him with the Ripper?” Will turns and shoots him a look.

“Partially. If he wants my skillset, he should trust my skillset. Otherwise, what’s the point, right?” Will runs a hand through his hair and turns his gaze back to the road ahead of them as Hannibal drives.

“I don’t think Jack doubts your competency, just your accuracy. He may think that this time you may have difficulty.”

“I think he’s testing me.”

“Testing you? How so?”

“I think he genuinely needs help on this case, but I think that he’s racing me. Wants to see if I can catch ‘our’ killer before he does. That way he knows whether or not I’d be useful on the Ripper case. He’s a fool though. I told you AND him that I won’t work the Ripper, won’t work anymore cases after this one.”

“Why are you against working on the Ripper case?” Will looks at him, considering something that Hannibal can’t parse.

“I could tell you that it’s because the last time Jack sent someone to bite at his tail, he lost a hunting dog, but that’s not why.”

“Why?” Hannibal presses.

“Very ‘therapist’ of you to push the subject, Hannibal. The Ripper isn’t going to be caught because the Ripper isn’t a person.”

“Do you mean to say you think that the Ripper murders are the result of a team or group?”

“No, the opposite. The Ripper isn’t a whole person, he’s committing murders all the time. Probably killing some poor asshole as we speak. He doesn’t ascribe to any particular belief or creed, he just kills. Whatever metric he uses to pick his victims is likely extremely subjective and could change on a whim if he wanted to kill a particular person who didn’t fit his criteria. It’s something arbitrary like politeness or something. Not only that, but not all of his kills become displays and not all of his displays are credited to him. Back when I was studying him for a thesis during my doctoral studies, I found these cases back in Italy a few decades ago that match his level of… well his level, but they were pinned on some guy who was killed in prison. Few years later, the Ripper popped up in the states, changed his style, but the timeline and the skill progression match up. The Florence murders weren’t perfect yet, but they were close. No one would believe me if I published that though, so it’s sitting in my laptop somewhere collecting digital dust.”

“Do you consider the Ripper perfect?” The pitch and volume of Hannibal’s voice are slightly higher and louder than they’d been. He’s purposely trying not to sound breathless.

“As an artist- Yes. He has passion and dedication for his craft, understands his purpose and intent and analyzes flaws and inconveniences to himself in real time and plans for those in the future. He makes his message understandable to his audience, but he only really plays for one. Himself. I think I am an unintended, unexpected voyeur when I see photos of his crimes. I don’t think catching him would do any good anyway. A man like that’d just pull a Steven Russell and pop up again in a nonextradition country. The Ripper will always be out of Jack’s grasp, he just doesn’t know it yet.”

“I am unfamiliar with that reference, but you understand him? The Ripper?” This time it does come out at a near whisper, but it’s ignored in favor for Will’s excitement over the topic. Will is beaming, cheeks flushed and eyes wide as he talks about the Chesapeake Ripper.

“I understand everyone, Hannibal. Even you.” And Hannibal’s heart hammers in his chest as he tries to brush off the connections his own mind is making. Will can’t know. He can’t. He must have picked up on something else. “Steven Russell was an American man who escaped prison a couple times. Somebody wrote a book about him and it became a Romance movie. He kept breaking his lover out with him.”

“I see. Do you think that is something the Ripper has? A lover? Does he make art for them?” Hannibal posits, trying to lead Will off a bit.

“If he does, he hasn’t yet. He’s a student of beauty and pleasure. I don’t think he’d limit himself to a single partner unless he saw them as Aphrodite incarnate. The partner might be worse on the world than the Ripper in that case. We’d be better off trying to profile them.” Will laughs. “Someone the Ripper wants? The Ripper couldn’t want anyone tame. They’d probably already be a killer or he saw the potential in them to become one. They’d have to be beautiful, that much is obvious. They’d have to have more than beauty, though. They would have to have some brilliance to them and they’d have to be able to match wits with him, understand him. They’d have to be his equal in every way that matters to him.”

Hannibal shivers as he pulls into the carpark at the motel Jack booked ahead for them. He sighs at the sight.

“You won’t be staying here, will you?” Will laughs again, still riding his info-dumping high,

“I will not be. You are welcome to join me if you’d like. I can assure you the accommodations will be far more comfortable.”

“Can I see what you have in mind?” Will leans over as Hannibal pulls out his iPad and types in a chain of hotels that Will is unfamiliar with outside of the fact that it is expensive as all hell. Will knows better than to look a gift horse in the mouth and if Hannibal is making an offer to him, he knows enough about the man to guess that it’s a genuine one.

Hannibal pulls up some images of example rooms without pulling up the prices. Clever. If Will could see a number, he’d be more hesitant in agreeing.

“That does look better than the thing in front of us. You think Jack’s trying to get back at us for lunch?” Will jokes.

“I’ll book the rooms.” And he does. Hannibal books two single rooms under his name and manages to get them on the same floor across from each other. He wanted to see if he could get a suite, but a look from Will made him reconsider. ‘I don’t want to get shot for this, Hannibal’ was Will’s remark on the situation. He pulls out from the motel parking lot and starts on the road again.

“So what of this killer, Will?”

“He’s nothing, a father scared to let his college age daughter leave home. He’s afraid to see her grow up. Figures the best way to keep her with him is to kill and eat her but he loves her too much to just outright do it.” The words themselves seem callous and uncaring, but Will leans back into his seat as if the weight of the world has fallen on him.

“He’s eating the other girls because he doesn’t feel as though he’s harmed them if he does so. He’s just a predator in the circle of life. But if he doesn’t eat them, if he doesn’t honor them, it’s just murder. That’s why Elise Nichol’s was tucked back into bed. He killed her and he felt bad about it. He loves them like hey are his own daughters or he loves them like they could be. Like they are her childhood friends. Oh.” Will stops in revelation. “She’s helping him.”

“His daughter?” Hannibal asks.

“Yes, she’s playing bait for him, helping him, maybe, not killing them, but probably helping with processing. I said we are looking for a hunter, well now we need to crosscheck fathers and daughters of the right age with hunting licenses. They hunt together and they’re hunting together now, just a different prey item than usual. God, I need to stop thinking about this for a while. I don’t want to feel what she’s feeling.”

“Do you think we will be back home before Friday?”

“It’s Tuesday. We should probably reschedule.” Will rubs his eyes with his palms.

“Of course. I have a wonderful meal planned, but I may need more time to prepare than what we may receive after this is over.”

Will laughs again.

“You don’t have to make me a full course meal, Hannibal. I don’t expect that.”

“You should. That is what I am planning on doing. Cooking is a passion of mine. I’ve four courses decided upon and have been going back and forth with myself about two more.”

The atmosphere in the car resumes the carefree and light feeling it had before the current case was brought up. They pull up to the new hotel in comfortable silence. Will opens his own door before Hannibal can get out of the car and grabs both his and Hannibal’s bags, leaving the man with just his laptop bag carrying his iPad.

“You have to check us in. I can muscle the bags.” Hannibal smiles. As they near the hotel and a bellboy runs out to take the bags from Will and gives him a slip with the number on the rack to match for bag delivery to their rooms. Will huffs, of course the fancy place Hannibal booked would have bellboys. He is surprised there isn’t a valet. Then he sees the stand at the door and figures that Hannibal just doesn’t like to have anyone else drive his vehicles- even rentals.

Will just sits in the lobby for a moment and closes his eyes to drown out the chitter of the types of people who can afford this place. Sooner than expected, Hannibal comes back holding two room keys.

“Ready to go up?”

“Ready as ever.” Will mumbles, trying to shake these strangers’ stares off him. He doesn’t envy them, and most definitely doesn’t want to turn around right now and slip into their heads, so he just ambles after Hannibal. Exhaustion of being surrounded by crying babies and tired travelers finally catches up with him as they enter the elevator. Will leans against the wall, trusting Hannibal to get them  to their floor.

“I’m going to have to take a nap before we head down to the offices.”

“Of course, I will come to retrieve you after two hours. Is that enough?” Will sighs and lets his hair fall in his eyes as Hannibal watches him intently.

“It will have to be.”

They get to their rooms shortly after that and Will crashes onto his bed as Hannibal enters his own room across the hall. As Hannibal closes the door behind him he can feel the itch to sketch in his fingers. Every moment in that car with Will Graham had been blessed agony.

            He got to hear some of Will’s honest thoughts towards the Ripper and in doing so got more insights into himself that he had anticipated. He should know better than to anticipate or expect anything from the man who is consistently surprising him. He can feel more than just he itch to draw now as his pants become tighter when he recalls how Will described his work and then tighter still as he recalled Will’s opinion on him as a lover, a devotee. Hannibal had never hd a love like that, but the realization dawns on him that he wants it. He wants someone to understand him, to see him, to know him, and to accept him and love him as much as he can love them back. He recalls his past romantic encounters and finds them lacking in comparison to the worship Will described.

            Like the devotee he was always meant to be, Hannibal Lecter has found his god, and so will the Ripper as soon as this case is over. Renewed is his ambition to find the serial killer they’re after, not as if it had ever diminished since the task at hand was putting off his opportunity to feed his deity with a catch by his own hand.

Chapter Text

Hannibal palmed himself over his rapidly filling pants. Will Graham is sleeping right across the hall. He lets out a huff and starts digging into one of toiletry bags to pull out something to help him relieve the growing pressure.

He looks around his hotel room and decided to sit a towel on the bed. His poor cock is already starting to leak and while the cleaning staff would surely change his linens if he requested it. He is not in the mood to make that request.

He lays the towel down and undressed himself before sitting with his legs spread. As he removes his clothes, the heady smell of his precum becomes heavier on the air. He applies some lube to his hand. It probably isn’t necessary because at this point, he is leaking like a faucet no thanks to a particularly overactive part of his anatomy. He grabs the base of his cock with a low grunt and tightens his grip.

His mind flashes to imaginary scenarios of Will. Will Graham is sleeping right across the hall. Sleeping, probably on his stomach. Too tired to get under the covers, maybe just awake enough to undress as soon as he stumbled through the door of the room that Hannibal booked for him; the room that Hannibal chose. The amount of control that his boy gives him is sometimes enough to get him to this point alone. Hannibal languidly drags his hand up his cock, trying to slow down his climbing pleasure.

Hannibal imagines walking across the hall and using his spare keycard. How deep could Will be sleeping? Would he be able to tell if Hannibal entered his room? If he just watched him, looked at him? Hannibal thinks about Will’s strong-looking thighs. He would kill just to see his bare legs (though he has killed and will kill for less). He wouldn’t be able to just watch. Maybe he could drug him tonight. Would he be able to tell? Hannibal groans at the thought. He never thought that he would get aroused by the thought of getting caught in any of his illicit activities, but Will has been modifying his previous desires and kinks simply by existing as he does.

Hannibal starts to stroke himself. He doesn’t make a sound and he doesn’t loosen his grip. A groan bubbles up his chest but dies in his throat and comes out his mouth as a hiss instead. He pumps faster. If Hannibal had to guess, Will’s in grey boxers. Oh, but how fine would his pale skin look in something blue? Blue sheets maybe. Dark blue sheets around those pale thighs, that round ass. Hannibal’s thoughts are not fully forming before he moves to the next one. It’s hard to concentrate when Will Graham is sleeping right across the hall. His mind shifts to a different blue.

Will graham framed by the cobalt blues of his dining room walls. Hannibal’s pinning him against the walls, one hand holding Will’s left, the right pinned between their bodies. He spins them around and bends his boy over the dinner table. Wild dark chocolate curls are spread across the fine woodwork of his table, pale skin’s illuminated by the ambient light from his herb garden and the moonlight outside. Hannibal can picture his hands roaming Will’s body and Will’s strong hands in turn gripping at him as he has his way with him, but is he fighting him or pulling him closer? Are they struggling to undress or grappling for hidden weapons? The confusion only pushes him on in his pursuit of pleasure.

He took a deep breath but didn’t pause in his ministrations. The hand that wasn’t stroking his cock gripped his thigh hard, leaving small red crescent nail indents in the skin and working at leaving bruises. How fine would those marks look sprawled over and staining his boy. He imagines his hands trailing across his thighs, leaving blue and purple bruises and wet red suck marks, teeth marks. Hannibal could picture hm littered with bites, some deep enough to draw blood, deep enough to scar. He’d place one over his playfully cruel heart. How his darling loves to tease him (his darling? Hannibal is becoming far too attached, but that thought evades him in his bliss)? What would Will do then? Would he bite back? Scratch, claw, kick? How many blows would he get in before Hannibal could subdue him? It was so impossible to predict how Will would react even in imaginative situations. Did Hannibal want to feel that pain to reach the pleasure he was after? Unquestionably yes. He imagines taking Will apart slowly in his hands, starting with his clothing.

Shirtless, Hannibal hadn’t seen him shirtless. Will Graham had come off his several-hour flight in a worn t-shirt. It was worn almost too thin to be appropriate in public. Hannibal is glad that his self-control maintained him throughout their drive. He could feel his emotions welling in the terminal as women leered at the disheveled man next to him. It certainly wasn’t holding now. His breaths come out short and hot as he continues working himself over. Growling almost rather than surrendering himself to moaning. He wondered about the man’s body hair. How much would he have? He had a relatively small amount of facial hair and Hannibal couldn’t see any chest hair poking out of his t shirt in the airport… Maybe his boy was bare chested? Hannibal wouldn’t care either way but, Oh... Oh god, Ejaculating on Will’s bare chest might just do him in. And he finishes as soon as that thought crossed his mind.

And god he is miserable. He spends the remainder of his time cleaning up and analyzing the possible reasons for each of his fantasies. How much could one man affect him? It was true that he had never met anyone like Will Graham, but to change so much so soon? Worrisome is the least of the adjectives that come to mind.

Two hours passed quickly. Will graham bolts awake at the knock on his room’s door. He gets up groggily to let Hannibal know he’s awake before putting his pants back on and getting ready to go.

“Hey, I’ll be out in a minute.” He’s not groggy enough to miss the way his companion’s entire body goes rigid at the sight of his light gray boxers. He only hoped Hannibal might ignore the worn holes near the seams. “Hey, hey, hey. Where are you looking?” He chastises playfully, but Hannibal doesn’t look away. It takes a moment but Hannibal meets his eyes, clears his throat and replies.

“I’ll wait here.” His voice seems strained and all Will can do is grin.

He puts his pants back on, but leaves the door open. ‘Reverse strip tease’ he thinks to himself as he takes his time working his jeans on up over the curve of his ass. He can’t see Hannibal from this angle, but knows that if he turns, he’ll catch his gaze through the hotel mirror. Naughty man. He hops a little as he pulls up his zipper just to add to the show. He puts on his belt and grabs a coat and walks with Hannibal to the elevator, making sure the hotel room locks electronically. Hannibal purposely, politely escorts him from behind.
“What’d you do for two hours, then?” Will asks.

“I rested as well.” He did not. Will watched as his jugular vein throbbed. Hannibal’s heart rate is racing.

“Ok.” And like a bored cat, Will drops the toy he was playing with. Hannibal was right, cruel. Though he doesn’t know whether this cruelty is better than Will continuing to prod him.

They get in the rental and start heading towards the temp offices set up by the bureau. This drive is quiet and Will was steadying himself for the upcoming interactions. Jack was waiting for them at the doors, mad as all hell for god knows what.

“Unless there’s another body, I don’t know why you’d be upset that I took a break, Jack. You can’t expect me to kill myself over something like this. And we both know there isn’t another body.”

Jack sighs, looking like the vein in his forehead is going to burst from the stress Will is putting him through.

“No, there isn’t another body, but I have just spent the last several hours fielding questions from the locals about the skillset of the professionals we are bringing in. Questions that I don’t really know enough about to answer.”

“You’ll get no apologies from me Jack. You wanted me here. It’s only fair you deal with the consequences.” Will barks a laugh before leading the trio of men inside. “Where are we set up?”

Jack points them into a board room towards the back of the first floor. It’s relatively nice for a place owned by the feds. Must have been renovated recently, Will thinks. Will looks over the boards set up and the computers on the table. He sees a list of local construction firms with no indication that any of them have been canvassed yet.

“You never do what I fucking suggest, Jack. Why am I here if you aren’t gonna listen?” Will sighs and picks up the list. “Hanibal are you up for a little trip? We’ve got to go request some records. Tell me you’ve got a signed warrant, Jack.”

Jack looks nervous for a minute before digging in a drawer for several papers for each of the listed companies. Will takes a minute to match the documents, leaving some of them on the table.

“Pass those out to the locals. I can’t do everything myself. I’m not even supposed to be doing fieldwork.” Will walks out the door with Hannibal following like a little duck.

When they get in the car, Will turns to Hannibal with a little smirk. “You are being quiet today.”

“Just watching you work.” Hannibal says as he puts the car in drive. “I must admit, I am looking forward to seeing what makes the FBI tick, and apparently you’re a catalyst.”

“Bureaucracy is a bane of my existence. You can’t get anything to work unless you do it yourself.”

“Is this fierce independence or self-isolation?” Will raises a brow.

“Two sides of the same coin, aren’t they? We are alone in our own ways. Some just get to choose which one.”

“You are alone because you are unique.”

“I’m as alone as you are.” And with that they both trade grins like mirrors facing each other. “What are you going to do, Hannibal? Something entertaining, I hope.”

“I hope.” He echoes back.

They arrive at the first location and start picking through files. Nothing really stands out, but the office workers seem unnerved by their merry attitude. They seem to be… having fun. Will’s focus is easily split between looking over each file for abnormalities and trading quick remarks with Hannibal.

They go through three more companies like that until they get to a pipefitters outfit. The files are kept in a mobile office on the property. The secretary is being awfully rude, conversing on the phone and gossiping about the men as they work their ways through the files.

Will pauses suddenly and pulls a paper out of the file he’s holding.

“Do you know this man? Does he have a daughter?” He asks her.

“I don’t keep company with these people.”

“She’d be about yay high?” He holds his hand up. “Brown hair, pretty, but plain. Blue eyes. College age. You seen anyone like that around when you come and go? She’d come here a lot to visit her dad, maybe drop off his lunch on the weekends.”

“Abigail.” She says, shocked that the man knew so much.

“Thank you. Hannibal, let’s go.” He calls out. Hannibal knocks some files the secretary was holding over as Will heads out to the car leaving him alone with the telephone…

“They know.”

Hannibal and Will pull up to the house. Will insists on pulling off the driveway into the trees and calling for backup but as they get up towards the house, they see Garrett Jacob Hobbs slit his wife’s throat on their front porch.

“God Fucking Damn It.” Will rips out of the car pulling his gun from his side holster and starts trekking toward the house. Hannibal follows several steps behind, not wanting to get in the way and obviously unarmed. Will doesn’t waste time telling him to fall back or wait, knowing that the doctor wouldn’t follow such a command anyway. His day just got far too interesting.

Will kicks down the door to see Garret Jacob Hobbs holding the lifeless bleeding body of his daughter, Abigail. He had too much of a head start, nearly cut her ear to ear before Will and Hannibal could get past Mrs. Hobbs. Will raises his gun just as Garret rises to lunge at them. He fires three consecutive shots. One grazes the man’s thigh, one to his stomach and another in his neck, but not piercing the jugular. Each is placed perfectly to cause a painful, slow death. Will can think of no punishment more appropriate for filicide.

Hannibal watches as Will walks over to Abigail. He kneels down to her, looking for any signs of life or breath, but finding nothing. Hannibal moves around the kitchen and picks up a clean dish towel to bring over to Will. He places it gently on her face before leading Will out of the house. They don’t speak as Hannibal calls Jack and reports on what they have found.

Jack arrives ten minutes later, surely having broken several traffic laws with backup close on his exhaust. He looks madder than a bull.

“What the hell happened? You were supposed to go check out the warrants, not make house calls!” He bellows. And quick as he came, Hannibal redirects.

“Perhaps it would be better if you have another officer collect our statements. That sort of attitude will likely make the process more difficult and agitate already high tensions, Jack. Step back.”

It has been years since anyone had come to Will’s defense like that. And to see Hannibal so quick to do so stirs something in him. With Jack now disengaged, Will watches Hannibal turn back to look at him, pupils dilated to all hell as he examines Will like a specimen, eyes scanning over every drop of blood on him like he put it there himself. Will’s gears start turning. Hannibal is enjoying this. God, he’s definitely a sadist. Probably much kinkier than Will immediately pictured, not that he had thought much on the subject but when a man looks at someone the way Hannibal looks at Will as much as Hannibal looks at Will, their bound to start thinking about it.

Hannibal gives his statement first. He’s pulled away from Will by another officer while EMS gains control of the scene and starts removing the bodies. A paramedic kindly offers to looks Will over but he declines. He isn’t injured, not physically and he wasn’t in Hobbs head long enough to suffer mentally from his death. He does mourn Abigail a little, but knows that even though she was a child, she was also a killer. There is no way that a man who looked like Garrett Jacob Hobbs could get eight girls comfortable enough to go to a secondary location easily. It is only logical that he used bait, and Abigail is good-looking bait.

Will sighs as the officer returns with Hannibal. Hannibal would make good bait. He looks harmless enough to disarm, but when he stood next to the man in the elevator, Will couldn’t help but realize exactly how broad those shoulders were. His speed too when following Will into the Hobbs house. Hannibal had the right build to do a lot of damage and the way he was able to stand his ground against Crawford spoke to a lack of fear that could only mean he had the strength to back himself up. Will swallowed hard and looked back to the officer. Hannibal sits with him as he gives his statement. He tells them about Hobbs coming out the door already slashing as a cause for them not to have time to call for backup.

The officers are left wondering the same thing that Will is- How did Hobbs know they were coming?

He hears a camera shutter from the side of the scene. Someone let a fucking bloodhound journalist follow them here. He turns his head and makes eye contact with a familiar, bitchy ginger. He sighs again and finishes up with officer, not having the energy to confront the journalist and seeing some junior officers already on the job. He turns back to Hannibal, his eyes still trained to the blood drying on his hands.

“Do you have a wipe or a washcloth?” Will asks the paramedics as they’re packing up. They shoot him a look of sympathy and pass him a PPE pack. He walks back to his seat and hands it to Hannibal. Hannibal, who is very much not dirty or covered in blood.

“You’ve been staring at my hands for ten minutes. I thought you’d like an excuse to touch them.” Hannibal doesn’t hesitate. He opens the pack and retrieves surgical wipes and begins Will’s elbows. He carefully and tenderly wipes the drying blood from his skin, scrubbing softly at the flaking skeletonized droplets to make him clean.

It becomes almost too intimate as Hannibal reaches his wrists. Will sucks in a breath and looks up at Hannibal’s face instead of his own hands. He watches as his expression is carefully maintained. He almost can’t read anything, except Hannibal’s mouth is slightly open. He looks like a tiger when they smell something they like. They open their mouth to get a better taste of it on the air. Will can imagine him scrunching his nose and panting.

Hannibal glances up with darkened eyes and Will is suddenly mentally shoved back to the marble room. Fluttering, the cracks are fluttering. The excitement there is palpable. He still can’t see the thing underneath, but it is beautiful. The way it moves is beautiful. He watches the darkness shift and dance happily. Why is it happy? What is going on? Will may be perceptive, but he isn’t a god, as much as Hannibal may think so. He can’t make leaps here. Hannibal looks away.

“Where did you go?”

“Stream.” He lies, unable to admit to the intimacy he experienced. He chokes. “The stream behind my house. I fish there. I went fishing.”

“Gone fishin’” Hannibal teases. If he senses the lie, he doesn’t let on.

Will sighs as Hannibal finishes cleaning his hands. Will moves to retrieve an alcohol wipe for his glasses, but Hannibal intercepts him and takes them from him before he can. He takes a clean wipe and holds Will’s face in one of his large hands as he begins to clean his face. Will’s eyes widen and Hannibal meets his gaze again. As if perceiving a misstep, Hannibal starts to retreat. Will watches the cracks in the marble close up. Stop, stop, stop is all he can think as he pulls Hannibal’s hand back to his face and holds it there.

“Stop.” He whispers. Hannibal tries to move away again, slowly. “You want this, so don’t pull away. I was just surprised, not rejecting it.” Will whispers again as Hannibal settles back into place and slowly brings the cloth back to Will’s face. Hannibal does not meet his eyes again.

He feels a bit raw every time he does. Will looks into him like he is seeing everything that he has ever done and he just keeps looking. Hannibal doesn’t fully know how to handle it. It isn’t exactly comfortable, but it is only unpleasant because he can’t return the favor. He doesn’t know what Will is thinking, what Will would do if he truly was able to see into him the way he reads others so easily.

Will recognizes that he practically flayed the man alive emotionally. “I’m sorry. For that.”

“Don’t be. You forgive me my trespasses; I shall forgive yours.”

“So are you going to lead me from temptation? Or deliver me from evil?”

“Neither. I don’t think I could if I tried. But could I tempt you to dinner tonight?”

“Couldn’t wait until Friday?” Will says as Hanibal finishes cleaning his face and starts on his glasses in his hand.

“Friday still stands. Tonight won’t be nearly as formal if you please.”

“Sure. My night just opened up I think.” Will looks over to Jack, who has regained his composure and is doing a fine job taking over the crime scene from the locals. Hannibal chuckles at his joke.

“I don’t know how I pictured you after an event like this, but it wasn’t this.”

“Did you think I’d be broken?” Will asks, stopping himself form visibly deflating with disappointment.

“No, no, of course not.” Hannibal does not elaborate and Will doesn’t press him. Hannibal places his glasses back on his face and Will leans into the touch. He gets up and stands beside Hannibal for a moment before nodding to him and heading over to Jack.

“Well.” He says to Jack.

“You caught him. What else is there to say? I knew you’d do it, but damn it Graham I didn’t expect there to be such a mess to clean up.”

Will’s brows crease. “I didn’t expect anything less. You are actually lucky we caught him before he took the next one. You’d have had two killers to try.”

“What? What do you mean by that?”

“The daughter. She killed with him. He killed her to save her. There will be evidence. If it isn’t in the house, it will be in their hunting cabin. Check their phones and I’m sure you’ll find an address for it. All the train tickets they’ve booked will be in pairs. They were visiting colleges. There are brochures all over the house. My guess is that every trip set him off and she took the opportunity to score a victim. He taught her how to hunt deer, I’m sure he taught her to hunt girl too.”

“That’s grim, Graham.”

“Life is grim, Jack.” Will turns away from the house. “You got Lounds under wraps?”

“Yea we got her. Can’t force her to turn over her camera as she was taking pictures from the proper side of the tape, but we stopped her from getting pictures of you getting cleaned up.”

“’M grateful. Am I done here then, Jack?”

“Get gone, Graham. I’ll take care of the paperwork, you’ve done more than your side of the deal. But I will be talking to you back at the Academy.”

“I didn’t expect anything less. I won’t chase a ghost, Jack.”

“I will try.”

“I know. I know.” Will claps him on the shoulder as he heads to Hannibal’s rental car.

“Cancel your reservation, Hannibal. We don’t need to stay up here that long.”

“I booked us flights home for tomorrow. Take the night to rest before we return.”

“Why do you take care of me like this?” Will grins at him, indicating the question is rhetorical.

“I want to be your friend.” Hannibal replies as if it isn’t a lie, as if it’s the most natural admission in the world. Will laughs.

“Alright, let’s go.” He gets in the car and Hannibal follows.

“I find it impressive how fast your feet move when you have boots on the ground.”

“I told you I am good at what I do. I didn’t expect to catch him first day though. Luck of the draw and I still don’t know how he knew we were coming. Maybe the receptionist gave him a heads up? She did seem nosey and wary of feds, but she said she didn’t know him that well. So why would she do that? I’ll tell Jack to look into it later. Hobbs must have known we were getting close somehow, but I didn’t know how close we were, so how could he?”

Hannibal huffs slightly.
“I don’t know, Will.”

“Sorry, sorry. Just using you as a sounding board. I forget how rude it can be.”

“Not rude exactly.” Hannibal replies.

“All the same. So, what’s for dinner?”

“As much as I would love to cook for you, the kitchenettes in our rooms are not to my standards. I found that the restaurant’s hotel is having a guest chef this week though and thought that may be worth a try. There is a tasting menu event.”

“You make me want to see your kitchen. And never show you mine.” He jokes.

Hannibal looks positively lit up with curiosity as Will mentions his home. Will starts expecting a house call soon.

“When you come for dinner, you are more than welcome to arrive early and watch me finish cooking. And I promise I wouldn’t judge you on your kitchen. I know that my standards are not the same as everyone else’s.”

“I might take you up on that.” He watches Hannibal’s eyes glint. Whether he is reimaging his menu to make the creation of it more performative of redeciding his wardrobe for the occasion, Will can’t tell, but he does know it is becoming more of an occasion.

“I booked us a table for eight o’clock.”

“Three hours then. That enough time to get the rest of this blood off me?” Will joked again. “I feel sticky in a bad way and I’d hate the smell of old blood to ruin our appetites.”

“A hot shower should do. Let me know if you need to borrow any toiletries.”

“I’ll make do with fine hotel soap.” Hannibal almost grimaces. Will laughs. “You keep your expressions so schooled. You really want to lend me some soap?”

“Apparently not enough. And yes. I have very nice soap. It would be less harsh on your skin than what you use.” Will laughs again, but only because of how short and snippy Hannibal is being.

“There isn’t much you can do to stop my mind from spinning, Hannibal. And you should probably have at least one person you can let that guard down around. I’ll borrow some soap if it really means that much to you.”

“I see a psychiatrist. Shampoo too, please.” This double conversation would be hard for most people to follow but both Hannibal and Will manage it with ease. They are able to bounce between topics naturally and almost more comfortably than it would be for them to focus on a single subject.

“Yeah, and not to speak negatively on your profession, but how much is that doing for you in this regard? You really are pretentious.” The second statement was obviously made as an innocent comment and Hannibal took it as such.

“Regrettably, not much.” He said ending the soap conversation.

“Do you talk about it? Why you are the way you are?”

“I fear she doesn’t know much about that either.”

“How therapeutic is therapy for you then? And what hope do I have?”

“I thought I was not your therapist.”

“You aren’t. I wouldn’t indulge you like I do if you were.” Will watches the flash of jealousy that crossed Hannibal’s face fade as quickly as it came. Hannibal realizes that what Will offers is better than poking around in his mind. If Hannibal is superficial with Bedelia, there is nothing stopping Will from being superficial with him if they were put in a similar dynamic. That’s not what he wants. Will’s friendship, if that is all it ever is, allows for more depth and access than a Psychiatrist/Patient relationship ever could.

“I’m just trying to say you don’t have to try so hard to be so impassive all the time. It doesn’t work on me anyway.” They pull into the hotel parking lot while Hannibal mulls over what Will said.

Will imagines how Hannibal’s marble exoskeleton must be looking right about now. Could he see inside yet? Was he any closer?

Hannibal passes will a coat as they head inside the hotel. It’s better not to attract anymore attention than they already do- odd looking pair that they are. Will’s shirt should have been collected for evidence, but he guesses that no one is really left to build a case against him for killing Hobbs. Hannibal was there to witness him being a threat and the entire family is dead. He returns to his room quietly and parts ways with Hannibal at the door, watching him enter his own room first and come back again having retrieved the ever so important soap and shampoo. Will had to hold himself back from laughing again. He just took the soap gratefully and entered his own room.

Once he is alone, Will sighs and starts to disrobe. Adrenaline returning. He killed someone, and as much as he dislikes it, it has a physical reaction on some people. He is one of those people. He sets the soap and shampoo on the shelf in the shower and turns the shower on hot and makes sure that his clothes are kept separate from his clean ones. He grabs a towel and sets it on the sink before stepping in. He hisses at the scalding water as it cascades across his back. He steps out of the stream for a second to adjust and then lets it wash over him. He looks down to see his penis is half hard. He can see some blood had made its way through his clothes. His arms and face are still remarkably clean. He never expected Hannibal to miss a spot though, so it isn’t really a surprise. He could turn the shower to cold and will his cock flaccid, but it is easier and more pleasurable to stroke it out.

Chapter Text

He doesn’t allow himself to think about anything. Doesn’t really try to fantasize or relive it. He works himself over purely for functionality. At least, that’s what he tells himself as if he isn’t masturbating after having watched a man kill his whole family and then shooting said man three times and watching him bleed out slowly. The police never seemed to question that. The shot that Will placed in Hobbs’s neck prevented the man from moving, causing him to appear dead before he actually was. Will guesses that helped free him of some suspicion of excessive use of force or some other form of misconduct.

Will felt his thoughts stray and started reeling them in as fast as he could. Think of something else. Hands. The first thing that popped into his head was Hannibal’s hands on him, maneuvering him. He sighs but lets the train of thought continue. Hannibal’s hands always seemed to be on him or hovering nearby when the man was in his presence. Hands sliding up his elbows, holding his wrists. He imagines the grip becoming a little tighter and groans, feeling his cock fill out more.

On the other side of the bathroom door, Hannibal was thinking of how he wasn’t usually such a slave to his whims; but in an effort to learn more about the man he’d been slowly becoming more and more intrigued by, he used his secondary key to get into Will’s hotel room while he showered. As he entered, he tilted his head back just slightly, able to sense the steam of Will’s shower as it slipped through the crack just beneath the door. He leaned over the remade bed and caresses gently where he imagines Will slept just hours before and where he will sleep again after he finishes in the bathroom. He keeps an ear out for the water. He moves around the room silently; he’d left his shoes back in his own room to aid him in the endeavor to remain unheard. He spots Will’s suitcase carefully placed out of the way in the corner of the large room. He lifts the lid to see an immaculately packed suitcase, nearly rivalling his own. Hannibal’s left with more questions than answers by this revelation. Does Will keep his suitcase packed so that he can always leave quickly or did he pack specifically for this trip? By the looks of it, Will packed for more than just Wisconsin. Why? Is Will a wanderer at heart? He doesn’t seem the type. Is he afraid of something? Someone? and might have to flee quickly? That seems much more likely. He seems to be prone to fear.

Will rests his elbow and head on the shower wall as he strokes himself harder. Small, soft moans leak out of his lips, but he trusts the hotel’s price and luxury status to afford him some auditory privacy. He whines as he remembers Hannibal’s hand on his face. He can feel it in his mind, slipping down to his neck. Hannibal is bigger than him, not by a lot, but depending on what he can do with the weight difference, Will imagines himself pretty well pinned under Hannibal, hand gripping his neck. Will presses his forehead harder against the shower wall and moves his hand faster. He pants as the hot water slides down over his ass. He cums in his hand as he fists himself to the thought of Hannibal touching him there. Will can’t tell if the blush on his skin is from the heat of the water, his physical exertion, or the fact that he came without ever picturing Hannibal’s cock. He grunts as he cleans his softening cock.

Hannibal closes the suitcase, carefully imitating the way it was before he opened it. He scents the air again but is startled when he hears something. He is quick to cover his mouth and staunch his own reaction. A groan dies in his throat as he hears Will begin to pleasure himself, and quite loudly at that. Hannibal cannot possibly stay. He makes his way to the door, torn. Part of him wanting to spy more and listen in as Will keens and cries out in pleasure, but self-preservation wins out and Hannibal can’t predict whether his self-control would be able to maintain him through such an inciting auditory experience. Better not to tempt fate unless you are willing to deal with the consequences, and Hannibal would rather not risk the kind of consequences he would expect at being found with his cock in his hand by the object of his unexpected affections after having entered Will’s hotel room without consent and listened into a private moment of pleasure.

Will quickly takes Hannibal’s soap and lathers it between his hands. He smirks a little as the smell of the soap intensifies and attaches to his skin. He slides his soaped-up hand over his cock and testicles, cleaning them well before moving to his ass and axilla with the other. He rubs the bar into his skin, making sure the hair there is soaped well. He sets the soap down on the ledge after running it under the water to get the used soap off. He then grabs the small bottle of shampoo. He opens the bottle and sniffs it. It smells like mint and citrus. The label is in French and though he has the ability to read it, he doesn’t really care to at the moment. He pours a small amount on his hands and rubs them together, getting the soap between his fingers before carding them through his hair, making sure to get the shampoo through his curls to his scalp. He lets himself groan as his fingers tug on knots of dried blood. Nothing he could do but wash again.

Will lets the water rinse out any remaining shampoo before pouring a little more on its hands. It bubbles up a lot more on the second lather, confirming that his hair is clean now. He rinses again and turns his face fully into the water.

He turns off the water and steps out into the steamy bathroom. Grabbing a towel, he sighs and turns on the vent. He opens the door to let the steam out so the mirror will clear up. He starts drying with his hair and moves the towel down, exfoliating the skin on his shoulders and back with the towel and moving lower still as he feels his skin dry.

He walks out into the bedroom and finds it empty, but the air is awkwardly still. He thinks back to Hannibal booking the hotel rooms and smirks. Could he really have kept a copy of Will’s room key? Hotels usually give out two copies and Will only has one. He starts to pace around the room looking for things the man could have touched that would confirm his suspicion. He checks his suitcase, the empty dresser. The hotel tv remote is still where the staff left if for new guests to find. The bathroom is obviously untouched, Hannibal probably wouldn’t dare invade there when Will could so easily catch him. The bed looks a little altered, but nothing stands out enough for him to use. He wonders if Hannibal heard the shower shut off and took his leave after that. Will enjoyed the steamy bathroom for longer than he would have at home and that would have given Hannibal plenty of time to make his escape.

Will feels a little silly to come away with no evidence of Hannibal’s intrusion other than suspicion and a gut feeling. But when has anything he thought ever needed to be prosecutable for him to believe it? The question now is whether or not he should bring this incident up to the man. Would Hannibal try to play it off as housekeeping? That’d be the obvious move. Will had a hunch that Hannibal would fold easily though. Maybe only to him, but fold nonetheless.

Will sighs and starts getting dressed. He lets his hair air dry, leaving his towel folded over his shoulders. He knows he needs to start taking better care of his appearance. He is much better than he used to be, but after he realized that he has much better luck manipulating others when he’s attractive than when he is a mess, he started to brush out his hair and update his wardrobe. He wondered--- God, he’s been wondering a lot. Would Hannibal be as interested in him as he is now if he was still wearing his worn through plaids? …Probably. Will thinks he might be able to spit at Hannibal and he’d still look at him the way he does.

The way Hannibal makes him feel is different than anyone else he’s ever met. He’s flirted with others before, but no one has ever wanted him so badly. No one so fine themself. Will often thought about what a romantic relationship might look like for someone like him and the results of those mental exercises were never so pleasant. He could imagine being the dominant person in a relationship, watching the other person bend to him over and over again but that would only bring him temporary pleasure. He was more like Hannibal than he cared to admit. They both need a challenge. Hannibal is challenging, if only in the way they mentally spar. Hannibal adores when Will is cruel, meaning he has the wit to acknowledge when Will is being cruel. Most people who play with Will, who flirt with Will, can never tell when Will is being genuine and when he is playing with them. Hannibal seems to be able to know and doesn’t mind being the butt of the joke as long as Will is making the joke.

Will sighs again. There’s more to Hannibal besides his wit and Will’s apparent attraction to him. Because if Will’s actions in the shower are any indication, Will is attracted to Hannibal. Hannibal is a puzzle. Will can’t help but find himself more and more intrigued as the interactions between them continue to multiply. Hannibal is purposely hiding things from him and Will is letting him. He’s a little afraid to let the game end. Will’s never experienced anything like this before and everything he’s been able to read off of Hannibal seems to mirror his own desire to keep the game up. He may be projecting more than he is used to, but Hannibal acknowledges everything he says as truth, so he just continues to do so.

Will lets himself fall backwards on the bed. No more thinking. He doesn’t know how much more introspection he can take at the moment- wet hair be damned. He groans and pulls himself back to his feet. Diner. He has to dress up. He digs through his bag to see if he has any product to style his hair with. He is under the impression that this is a date, even if Hannibal might not confess to it being such, Will knows that Hannibal would love for it to be one, so Will might as well make it one. Though, Will guesses that if in a few years they are still playing this kind of game, Hannibal would say that their first date ‘was the first time I cooked for Will in my home’. He seems the possessive and romantic type. That’s fine with Will though, because Will’s probably worse about possessiveness and jealousy. More reasons he doesn’t get in relationships. Though, those are more voluntary than involuntary.

Will smirks down at his bag as he pulls out the garment bag from the bottom. He opens if up to reveal a suit, more for a funeral than a wedding, but the steely grey will bring out his eyes anyhow. He checks the shoe compartment and pulls out some black leather dress shoes with matching socks stuffed in the left shoe and shirt garters in the right. He pulls them up his thighs and puts on a blue dress shirt to tone down some of the formalness of the suit. Of the two he owned, this one was his favorite. He puts on the rest of his outfit, barring a tie for much the same reason that he didn’t wear white. He may not know all the rules of formal dressing, but he knows enough to pass.

Will walks into the bathroom again, having left the door open to let the steam out and let the mirror defog. He brushes through his hair with his hands and picks up the small tub of styling product he found in his own toiletries. He then sets it down and just runs his dry hands through his hair. The product was clearly not going to be up to Hannibal’s standards and if the conditioner was as nice a product as Hannibal clearly uses on his own hair, then it should work fine alone. He is sure that Hannibal would approve of being able to smell his own products on Will rather than having Will cover it up with something that didn’t match. Hannibal seemed to have a rather strong sense of smell, calling back the memories of their lunch together. Will keeps that in mind as he looks at his aftershave in his toiletry bag. He sighs and leaves it there.

Normally, Will might be upset at the efforts he is going through, but normally, Will doesn’t meet people like Hannibal Lecter. Things like this feel incredibly small when imagining future conversations with the man. He’s projecting his intentions to fit into Hannibal’s life. Of course, there are things that he isn’t willing to sacrifice and there are things that it is too early to change. Will would love to see what kind of face Hannibal might make if he shaved, but that would have to wait. Not because he didn’t have a nice enough razor, but because the idea of shaving now did not strike Will as something he’d like to explain as he returned to Quantico tomorrow. And the effect might be more pronounced after they formally enter a relationship. Maybe he was thinking too much. Maybe this was all too much. He paused for a moment to consider, then realized that it didn’t matter at all. Hannibal would do whatever Hannibal was going to do and Will’s own abilities of prediction could only take him so far. He still wasn’t going to shave yet.

As he finally had a look he liked, he let his hair dry in place and checked the time. His shower took longer than expected, plus the intrusion hijinks, Will had just enough time to watch an episode of daytime if he so chose. He did not though, preferring to open up his laptop and scroll through the billion emails coming in. Messages from Beverly, from Alana. Apparently, he needed to check his phone as well. Alana never had his number, but he’d given it to Beverly, who gave it to Jimmy and Brian. Suited him just fine. Brian never texted or called. Jimmy on the other hand would send him messages every once in a while about a random fact he remembered. Will didn’t mind replying because it made work a little easier. Though, Will could tell he might be the only one humoring the poor man.

Will checked his messages. Apparently, Will should keep off the web for a bit. That bitch Lounds wrote another article about him and it wasn’t good. Will didn’t care much about it though. No one ever quibbled with him about his results, so why would they now?

Will looked away from his laptop. He got off the bed and stopped at the room’s door. Goddamn. He switched on the lights and looked back at the carpet. Will started laughing. Hannibal hadn’t worn shoes. The man was at least two shoe sizes larger than him, and there were slight indentations in the carpet from where he walked all over Will’s room. Will nearly threw his head back as he laughed. Then, there was a knock at the door.

Hannibal waited dutifully outside as Will exited the room, chuckling and wiping at his eyes.

“Is everything alright?” Hannibal asked, feeling left out of whatever joke was bringing him this vision of joy and beauty.

“You drive me nuts, you know. Let’s go.” Will just grabbed Hannibal by the arm, crinkling his suit jacket a little bit. Not that Hannibal had the mind to care a bit. He let Will lead them down to the lobby.

In the elevator, Hannibal tries again.

“What have I done to amuse you now?”

Will shoots him a scathing look. For a moment, Hannibal believes Will’s genuinely upset with him. Will couldn’t know, could he? Hannibal had taken so many precautions. He’d been so careful. He didn’t leave anything out of place or leave any identifiable genetic information anywhere. There wasn’t a hair out of place when he left Will’s hotel room.

“Go talk to the host stand. We can talk at the table.” Will said as the doors open and they make their way through the lobby.

Hannibal felt his heart race. It seemed like every moment with this man is more exhilarating than the last. While Hannibal knew that he was prone to taking calculated risks, he never knew himself to become addicted to thrill seeking like this. He can’t get enough. Hannibal stumbled over some of his words at the stand.

“Reserve… Reservation for two.” He clears his throat. “Under the name Lecter. Thank you.”

Will smiles to himself while watching him. He knows he has Hannibal wrapped around his finger.

They sit at a small table in the back of the restaurant near to the bar and far from both the kitchen and the bathroom.

“So…” Hannibal prompts, unsure on how to proceed without incriminating himself, but still very desperate for any answer as to Will’s behaviour.

“So.” Will chirps back cheekily. “What did you find?"

If Hannibal was prone to blushing, he would. Instead, he simply shook his head coyly.

“I am unsure of what you mean, Will. What would I find? Where?”
Will laughs again, more restrained under the eyes of the other restaurant-goers and staff. It was at this moment that Hannibal allowed himself to drink in the sight that Will presented in his gray suit, staring at Will’s ass as he pulls out the chair for him to take a seat. While the fabric covered the man’s form well, Hannibal was certain that if he took Will to see one of his tailors, the silhouette he could achieve from their craftsmanship would far outweigh what style improvements this off-the-rack ensemble afforded them both. Not to mention, Hannibal could get the man in something blue.

Will sat down with ease and in a relaxed and open manner. His legs were crossed under the table and he seemed to wait for Hannibal to take his seat. He even gestured to the chair with an open hand. Hannibal obliged and took his seat when he felt something tap the side of the sole of his shoe. Will’s foot.

“Footprints. Size 12s. Or 46s, if you prefer.” Will touched the toe of his shoe to the heel of Hannibal’s and slides it to the tip. He slid his toe back to Hannibal’s heel and lines their feet flush together. “I’m only a size 10. Your shoes match the intruder. So. What did you find?”

Hannibal hadn’t worn shoes when he entered Will’s room. He knew that. He knew Will knew that. And he knew that Will already knew he had entered Will’s room. He could play weak- give in easy to prevent further investigation, but that is a gamble.

“I didn’t wear any-“

Will shifted forward, leaning on his elbows over the table.
“No. You didn’t wear any shoes, did you?” Will laughs.

Hannibal sat silent for a moment, trying to personify a sense of shame that he did not know.
“I entered your room while you were occupied in the shower.” He confessed.

“And what did you find, Doctor?” The corners of Hannibal’s lips turn down at the title.

“Nothing out of the usual, not really. I was attempting to learn more about you. You aren’t the most open of books, Will. Though, I admit I did make a mistake.” Underestimating Will. Hannibal’s only mistake was underestimating Will. “What can I do to earn back your trust, Will?” Hannibal raised the pitch of his voice to add sincerity to his plea.

Will shook his head.

“If you want honesty, Doctor Lecter, you have to lead with honesty. Tell me one observation you made about the state of my hotel room and I can start being honest with you again.”

“You overpacked.” Hannibal says simply.

“And what does that tell you?”

“You keep your suitcase packed intentionally. You feel as if there will be a time when you need to leave your home quickly. If I had to guess, I would say you have at least one identically packed suitcase at home in case this one had been used as it has. You are likely to return this one to its unused condition immediately upon returning home. Your clothes are organized both to maximize space and to allow you to see everything that you have in your suitcase easily. It is reminiscent of the way psychward patients are taught to organize their belongings, indicating you may have had a stay or two in your early life and maintained those habits.”

“Why do you assume that it was my early life?”

“I ended up reading your records after our first meeting.”

Will grinned at him. It was the opposite reaction than the one that Hanibal expected. “Yes. Those records were sealed. My dad had me institutionalized briefly the summer between middle school and high school. I had come to a conclusion that for the rest of my life, every relationship and interaction that I ever had with any other members of my species would closely mirror those I had already had. I lost myself in the repetition of it all. I became suicidal.”

Hannibal felt thrown. His chest lurched at the idea of Will dying.

“I haven’t felt that way since. Towards the end of my stay, one intelligent doctor, instead of dismissing my concerns, advised me to live in the small differences that I could find in between the interactions. Study them. If I could never find someone that I could converse with the way other people are able to talk to each other, than at least I could understand why.”

Hannibal felt himself start to breathe again- his world returning to its axis.

“You can’t help but surprise me, Will.”

“I can say the same for you, Hannibal.” Will’s smile returns. “From now on, please, when I ask, just answer in the most honest way you can, even if it goes against what you want. It will be better for both of us in the long term if you don’t lie to me.”

“When you ask.” Hannibal answers.

“When I ask.” Will repeats in confirmation as if granting Hannibal leeway, a chance to keep things that he’d rather keep secret just that- secret. Not that Will didn’t want to know everything there is to know about Hannibal, not that he didn’t want to press or wouldn’t, but allowing Hannibal to pry himself open in his own time.

And with that a waiter came by and offered them water and began to explain the tasting menu to them. Will wasn’t paying attention. He didn’t care about Hannibal’s admission, about his transgression, but his eyes had barely left the man even as he drank the aforementioned water. It seemed that every part of his consciousness was tuned just to Hannibal. And that made Hannibal sweat, as much as he could, under pressure. He was used to suspicion at times, but nothing like this. There was no judgement passed even after he admitted guilt. It was new and exciting, and Hannibal felt as if he was developing a craving for it. So much so, that he forgot to ask about the wine pairings, or add any suggested alternatives of his own.

The waiter left shortly after and the men returned to their conversation.

“Hannibal.” Will summoned him off of his lost train of thought. “What are you thinking?” And as Will asked the question, a million answers swam through his mind. Anything that could be true or possible.

“I find you wonderfully distracting.” Hannibal replied.

“Distraction isn’t usually a positive thing.”

“Not usually, but I think for you and I, it is a unique experience.” Hannibal takes a sip of his water. “You admitted to me that the prospect of perpetual boredom drove you to contemplate killing yourself. Is a distraction not an appealing notion?”

Will smiles. “Are you asking me if I find you interesting yet? I haven’t assuaged those doubts already? If I didn’t find your company to be unlike any other I’ve encountered, I wouldn’t be here.”

“Will, I think that you may have made a mistake when estimating the type of attachment I would like to form with you. I don’t want to be friends.” Will choked on his water.

“I didn’t make a mistake.” He grabbed his napkin and wiped his mouth. That was all Hannibal really needed to know.

“You didn’t?”

“Yea, well it’s not very conducive to starting a long-term relationship by saying something like, “You want to fuck me so bad, it makes you look stupid” over lunch.”

“Stupid?” Hannibal paused in offence.

“It’s just an expression. I doubt you could make yourself look stupid if you tried. Though you do have some skill at acting- as we saw earlier.”

“I apologize for feigning innocence.”

“And the shame?”

“What?” Hannibal balks slightly.

“You don’t feel guilty or ashamed for ‘breaking in’. It wasn’t real.”

Hannibal stares at him.
“What do you mean?”

“The first day we met, I thought you couldn’t feel shame. Now I think you can, just that it’s not often you do. You don’t feel guilty about doing something with no consequences and I’m not foisting any upon you. What is there to feel guilty about?”

“What do you make of that?”

“What’s there to make of it?”

“You seem to think I have no conscience.”

“So what? That doesn’t necessarily mean anything. There’s many more people who have that little voice in their head and choose to ignore it. It makes you less conflicted and less predictable. You’re not like any garden variety psychopath that I’ve met. So much so that drawing that kind of comparison to yourself makes me feel defensive of you.”

“That wouldn’t be a bad thing for me.”

“For me to be defensive of you? Why? Did you do something bad?” Will jokes.

“Would you like to know?” Hannibal asks.

“I don’t need to know if you’re committing tax fraud, Hannibal.”

Before anything more could be said, a waiter brings out some bread and wine to start their meal.

“You didn’t tell me anything about this menu. What am I supposed to be expecting, Hannibal?” Will watched as Hannibal preened at the usage of his name. He started to describe the types of dishes the chef is partial to serving.

“I must confess-“ Hannibal starts.

“Another transgression already, Hannibal? Apparently, I do need to be careful around you.”

“Well, I may find it rude, but I don’t think you might. I already admitted that I find you distracting, but I wasn’t clear with you, nor myself just how much. I was not paying attention to our server when he went over the courses.”

“Neither was I.” Will laughs. “Looks like we are in for a surprise.” He takes a beat before continuing, coyly, “What had you so distracted?”

“I was thinking of inviting you to my tailor.” A lesser admission, even by their own standards, but at least it was honest. Will has opportunity to coax more out of Hannibal yet.

“I knew my suit wasn’t up to snuff, but it should be indicative of my budget, Hannibal. I don’t think I can afford your thread count.” Will jokes.

“It’s my invitation, I’d be more than happy to-“

“I’d rather not have you think I’m using you for your money.” Will cuts him off, taking another sip of his wine. Hannibal doesn’t falter at the accusation, but his eyes do a once over of Will’s face, to try and establish Will’s intentions. Hannibal can’t help but feel a little disappointed that that avenue of control was so swiftly dismissed and cut off from him. He thinks Will knows just a little of how much Hannibal would like to clothe him, mark him, etc. But Will just smirks like it’s nothing to him. Then, he feels Will’s foot tap his again, reassuringly.

“You want to dress me up though, don’t you?”

Hannibal huffs- a play at being put off, but they both know better by now.

Someone walks by, causing the air to shift and Hannibal finally catches a stronger whiff of Will and his scent. His posture becomes rigid for a moment before he relaxes into the familiar scent of his shampoo and soap mixed with Will’s own products and the natural spiced smell of his skin.

“Yes.” Hannibal says simply, electing not to deny it, deny Will the air of honesty that they’ve established. It will make it easier to lie to the man later, if he will ever be able to, if Will trusts him implicitly- if Will’s not looking for lies.

Will doesn’t press and Hannibal can’t tell if he’s upset that Will didn’t ask him to elaborate, or impressed that Will didn’t have the need to. He is still unsure what lengths he’s willing to go for Will, and so soon? Hannibal thinks the only way to find out is to get deeper involved with the man.

Just then, the waiter comes back to refresh their wines before the next course is served.