Chapter Text
He had come to this event in the hopes of getting away from his misery, not wallow in it some more. When he got home after a long work day, the bareness of his immaculate house felt oppressive and he found he couldn’t bare another night spent the same way…alone and feeling sorry for himself. It’s been a while since he returned to work normally, but the thoughts he had left creep on him during those recovery weeks still lingered and he hadn’t felt like himself in a long time.
He spotted the fancy museum invitation on the kitchen counter. He had only gone to one other event of the sort since he got that exclusive membership. It was exclusive and expensive and Frederick Chilton had more money than he knew what to spend it on. Apparently this was to give the members a first look of a new acquisition. His little bother’s voice came to him with annoying clarity and reason, Nothing’s going to change, Frederick, unless you try to change it yourself. He grabbed the invite, checked his suit and was out the door.
Now he was frowning at a painting. He squints slightly to read the label.
Duchessa di Montejasi with Her Daughters, Elena and Camilla.
Edgar Degas.
On loan from the Museum of Fine Arts, Boston
It was the spitting image of his mother’s disapproving face, subtle and stabbing. The same face she had when his brother brought her to visit him at home that first week after getting out of the hospital. She had never been there. It was one of the strangest sights he’s seen in recent times, his mother standing in his living room. She stood there for a long time, taking in the impersonal décor, the white walls, glancing at the empty kitchen. He stood in the threshold, still pale and fatigued with a hand placed protectively over his stomach. With a hard stare fixed on her, he willed her to not to say what he knew was sitting at the end of her sharp tongue. She didn’t, merely shook her head and asked if she could see the upstairs floor. Frederick didn’t feel any better with her silence.
He figured this was what they meant that great art stirs great emotion. He wasn’t exactly enjoying this brand of feeling. He turns away from the painting, focused on finding someone or something to distract him. He takes a cup of wine from a passing waiter and spies a flicker of blue to his left. He turns slightly to follow it with his eyes.
He had noticed her across the room when the museum functionaries unveiled the sculpture on the center of the gallery. Clad in a flattering blue wrap dress, she was the combination of elegance and sensuality Frederick was immediately attracted to. She had smiled so happily at the sculpture before turning to her companion to whisper something excitedly. Frederick hadn’t really been paying attention to what was going on, he had been taken aback by the thrill he felt at seeing such a beautiful woman smile. He turned away quickly then, not wanting to be caught staring.
He had gotten little glimpses of her as the gathering progressed while talking to acquaintances here and there. It wasn’t like he knew many of the people here or knew them well. These were just the sort of polite, short conversations held by civilized society to get to know who is who. Normally Frederick would be very interested in this, in flaunting and getting to expand his network of connections. But tonight, everything was repetitive and dull. Truth be told, it wasn’t like any of them were really interested in him.
And now he found himself again staring across the room at the pretty lady in blue. When he allowed himself the fantasy, that was the kind of woman he would imagine himself with. Shared dinners, romantic getaways, and all that followed. She would be intelligent and loving and maybe would hum softly as she searched for something to read in his bookshelves. The type of someone to finally introduce to his grandmother. But that was definitely taking daydreaming too far and too improbable. Frederick always fancied himself a good catch, he was after all a psychiatrist with a more than well-paying job at a prestigious institution. But now he just felt, as a whole (what was left of him anyways), inadequate.
She was commenting something to her companion with a teasing look in her eyes. He laughed at whatever she said and responded likewise. She gave him a knowing look and a playful slap in the arm. Frederick watches their interaction, body language comfortable but not romantic. He admires the line of her jaw and follows down her neck, the becoming décolletage of her dress, her hands holding an almost empty wine glass by her middle, and down her legs to her tasteful shoes. He lifts his glaze again to her face, the curve of her lips and her eyes which…were staring back at him.
He felt like a deer caught in the headlights of a truck, felt the sudden hard thud of his heart and the tell-tale heat of his blush crawling up his neck to his cheeks. He stiffens all over and clutches the handle of his cane. She offers a friendly smile. Not knowing what to do, he awkwardly looks to the side and to the ground avoiding further eye contact.
“It’s good to see you around, Frederick.” the soft, accented voice of Hannibal Lecter arrives just in time. Frederick collects himself quickly and greets him.
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Of course you had noticed him, a well-dress man in shades of green and seemingly far too young to need a cane. You had looked him over a couple of times in lulls in conversation. He had a good pair of shoulders, rested the weight of his torso on the cane sometimes…must have suffered an injury. When he was staring at the Degas portrait, you could see his profile clearly. An attractive long nose under a heavy set brow. Not unlike the profiles of emperors on old Roman coins…if only he had looked over…
You were glad Ivan was seeing the new head of the European Arts department at the Walters; he had managed to get you an invitation to the event. It did you good tonight, the wine and seeing the new Degas sculpture. It paid off having friends sleeping with high places. You had met a few interesting people and Ivan, not so subtlety, introduced you to some doctor called Clifford Fraenkel. That definitely wasn’t going anywhere. One would think that by now Ivan knew your taste in men.
You felt someone eyeing you; you turn your head to look. It’s the young fellow with the cane, looking at your shoes and then your face and then he notices you’re looking back. You hold his gaze. Poor man looks so scared at getting caught, his cheeks darkening. You smile at him, but it does little to help him. He stiffens and looks away awkwardly, before being approached by two taller men. Hm, one was Dr. Fraenkel and the other one…Lecter? You’ve heard of him in passing comments tonight, something about his dinner parties.
You tilt your head to the side as you regard the one with the cane for a moment longer…he’s cute, like a floundering duckling.
Ivan taps you on the arm to get your attention. “Ready to go?”
“Sure, I’ll just finish my wine. Tired of waiting for Michael to come over?” You ask him teasingly.
“Oh, shut up. He’s busy with this party. Be grateful, he’s the one who let you in.”
“I really wanted to get to know him, since you’ve been raving about him.”
“I hardly rave, but he is the most darling man I’ve ever met. Hmm, maybe we could set up a double date with Clifford.” He tries to waggle his eyebrows and fails.
“Don’t even think about it.” You gulp down the last of the wine.
“Ah, come on. Don’t be like that. Let’s go and say goodbye. He’s over there.” You had time to place the empty cup on a caterer’s tray, before Ivan grabs your wrist to pull you toward the group.
“Excuse us, gentlemen.” Ivan interrupts them. You see duckling looking a bit surprised. “Clifford, we just wanted to say goodbye.”
“You’re leaving already? Such a pity. It was a pleasure to see you again, Ivan, and to meet you.” Clifford finishes gently grasping your hands and dipping his head respectfully. “Oh, I’m being terribly rude. These are old medical school fellows of mine, Dr. Hannibal Lecter and Dr. Frederick Chilton.”
You’re introduced and shake their hands. Mm, so it’s Frederick, huh? Oh, he IS cute.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Dr. Chilton.”
He grasps your hand firmly and musters a small smile, “The pleasure is all mine.”
You give him a wide smile and he tries to not melt like the teenager he’s feeling. Pull yourself together, Frederick!
“Have a good night.” And you’re gone, Frederick follows the clip of your short heels for a moment.
He stays for a little while longer, before excusing himself. Walking to his car, he feels a wave of fatigue. He should really sleep more. He pats his jacket pockets for his key, the sound of laughter makes him look over his car. He sees you and Ivan, arm in arm happily crossing the parking lot. He smiles sadly to himself while getting into his car. Some nights he would give anything to be at the receiving end of such warmth.