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Alana focuses on her plate, cutting a mouthful of succulent duck from its place in the animal's breast. Ordinarily, dinner at Hannibal Lecter's house is a spectacular mingling of fine food and dazzling conversation. Tonight, however.
"What about movies, everybody watches movies."
"I go to the theatre," Hannibal says. Alana can't believe he doesn't seem visibly annoyed yet. She certainly is.
"What, like the opera? You have to be kidding me."
"Will," She says, low and clipped. He's testing her patience.
"Cinema just isn't an art form that interests me."
"No, I don't imagine so. Movies run the risk of being fun, after all. Can't have that."
"Will." She's used to his brand of bullshit, it's usually charming in a rough-around-the-edges kind of way. But especially around Hannibal, especially tonight, Will's being downright rude. And he knows it.
"Are you implying I don't have fun, Will?"
Alana sighs. Hannibal's encouraging him. They're never going to hear the end of this conversation.
"I'm just saying I've never seen evidence of you having fun, Doctor Lecter." There's so much venom in his voice. It's deliberately inflammatory. Did Will come here looking for a fight or did something set him off?
She sets down her silverware with a definitive clatter. "Stop it, Will. Hannibal just has eclectic tastes, is that a crime all of the sudden?"
Will chuckles. He's enjoying this. What's with him? "Sorry," He says around a mouthful of spinach.
The two men make eye contact, and Alana suddenly gets the feeling that she's been excluded from a joke.
The three of them eat in tense silence for a few minutes before Hannibal speaks.
"I enjoy music. That's considered a hobby for the everyman, is it not?"
She cringes. He's egging Will on again, looking for round two.
"Is there anything, even a single piece, from the last century in your collection, Doctor?"
Hannibal's silence speaks for itself. Alana takes a large gulp of wine. The two of them make charged eye contact again and she gets the absurd feeling that she's acting as a third wheel. Like this argument is flirtation.
"What would you prefer Hannibal do with his time then, Will?" She cuts in, letting her annoyance show in her tone.
Will shrugs. "Just something that doesn't reek of extravagance, I suppose. Video games, comics- hell, go bowling, I don't know."
"You enjoy bowling, Will?" Hannibal asks, not looking up from his plate.
"God, no. Bowling is terrible, I'll never understand how grown adults find it to be a good way to spend an evening."
Hannibal smiles. "I wouldn't be caught dead in a bowling alley."
"At last, something you two can agree on. I thought we might never get there."
Will smirks. "It's coming from a place of concern, Alana." He looks over to Hannibal, and she feels the need to brace for impact. "You're in danger of becoming a caricature of yourself, Doctor Lecter."
Alana drains her glass.
Hannibal's jaw tenses. That one got under his skin, she can tell. Will can tell too, if his self-satisfied grin is any indicator.
"I suppose my lifestyle must seem quite lofty from where you stand, Will. I can understand why it seems intimidating to a man who prefers to spend his days covered in dirt."
Alana chokes on a bite of duck. She's used to Will being rude, but Hannibal?
"You might enjoy spending some time in the woods, if you tried it."
"You're proposing a camping trip?"
Will laughs. It's a genuine laugh that comes straight from his chest. It's incredibly rare, even to Alana's ear. She looks back up at the two men and suddenly sees something that should've been obvious before.
"Yeah, you know what? Yes, that's exactly what I think you need. In fact, I'm prescribing it."
"Very well, I'll clear a weekend from my schedule. When are you free?"
Will balks. Alana can't fight her smile. How long has this been going on? And right under her nose, too. Does Hannibal know? Is he just too polite to acknowledge it? Does Will even realize, for that matter?
"You want me to take you?"
"Is that not what you were offering?"
Will takes a drink from his wine, buying himself a few seconds. A slight blush is rising to his cheeks. She'd be lying if she said she wasn't a little jealous. "I guess it has been a while since I went camping."
Will leaves very quickly after the meal. Once again, very impolite. She supposes there's no reason for him to stay though- this match was over, and Hannibal was decidedly the victor.
Alana chooses to stay for a while, offer to help with the dishes and have another glass of wine when Hannibal inevitably refuses.
"Hannibal Lecter in the great outdoors," Alana muses, looking at him over the rim of her glass. "I'll have to ask Will to take pictures."
Hannibal smiles to himself as he dries a plate. He does the dishes by hand. He can surely afford a dishwasher, can't he?
"I'm as surprised as you are," He says. "I wasn't actually expecting him to take me up on the offer."
"You were bluffing."
"Of course, why on Earth would I expect him to accept? The man can't stand me, no matter what I do."
Alana laughs, she can't help it. When he shoots her a curious look, she says, "Will Graham likes you more than ninety percent of the people he knows."
"He's vicious when he speaks to me."
"And yet he does so much speaking."
Hannibal frowns. Will and Hannibal- Two experts of the mind, and yet they're both so clueless.
Alana elaborates. "You haven't been his psychiatrist for very long, but I know Will better than just about anybody. Almost every conversation he has, he's hoping to have it end as soon as possible. His rudeness is strategic, to make people want to leave."
"And yet his jabs at me seem calculated, tailored to garner a response," Hannibal continues.
Alana nods. "He likes getting a rise out of you, Hannibal. He's happy when you're around. You keep him entertained."
"Something tells me this trip will be very illuminating," Hannibal says.
-
"I'm gonna go over some ground rules," Will says as they head out the next Saturday morning. Hannibal nods, watching the trees roll by out the window.
"Rule number one: No psychoanalysis."
"It may be difficult to turn that part of my brain off, Will. But I'll make an effort."
"Rule number two: No talking about work.".
"Interested in using this excursion as a means of escape, are you? Tell me, is it becoming difficult to create a barrier at home?"
"Do I need to repeat rule number one?" Will asks. Hannibal looks over to him. His eyes are fixed on the road. Hannibal says nothing.
"Rule number three," Will continues. "And this is the most important one." His shoulders seem to relax a fraction. A smile quirks at his lips. "For the next twenty-four hours, we are leaving the world of modern society. We are returning to the embrace of Mother Nature. Whatever that means to you, behave accordingly."
"That last rule sounded rehearsed," Hannibal says, admiring the faraway smile Will is wearing.
In an instant, he clears his throat and the smile falls away. "Yeah, well. Used to be rule number one, but I didn't make it."
"A tradition, passed along."
"Something like that."
"And what does it mean to you, to be in Her arms again? How do you behave?"
Will snorts. "The way I usually behave in nature doesn't matter, Doctor Lecter. It will be different, this time."
"Different because of me?"
Will's brows furrow. He looks troubled. "I don't like camping by myself. I've tried it a few times. Somehow it feels more lonesome than just staying home." He glances away from the road to Hannibal, catches him staring. He smiles. "You're the first person I've gone with in a while."
"I hope I meet your expectations."
"I don't think you'll have much of a choice, seeing as I'm expecting you to be completely out of your element."
"You enjoy making me uncomfortable?"
Will doesn't respond. Alana's words fill the space in Hannibal's mind.
"I just think it would benefit you to try something new," He says after a long moment.
When they at last arrive, the air is starting to heat ever so slightly. The frigid morning is giving way to the gentle caress of the sun, and Will takes a deep breath when he makes it to their campsite. He drops the bags he's been carrying to the ground with a satisfied grunt, stretching his arms.
Hannibal isn't surprised by how comfortable Will looks, he's been prepared for that since they'd planned this trip. He isn't surprised by how it tugs at his heart, either. What does surprise him is the way Will looks back at him as he sets down his own bags, dusting off his palms on his jeans. His eyes sweep along Hannibal's body, slowly. He looks amused.
"Enjoying the view, Will?"
"I'm just realizing that I've never seen you in casual wear, that's all."
Hannibal tugs slightly at his shirt, grey fabric pushed up to his elbows. "And I've never seen you in formal wear."
Will frowns. "Yes you have."
"Your formal is my casual."
Will snorts. "I'm gonna pitch the tent."
"Not opting to sleep under the stars?"
"I'm trying to go easy on you."
"Are you?"
Will pulls a portable CD player from his bag. "I want you out of your element, Doctor Lecter, not miserable." He gestures to it casually. "Do you mind if I-"
"Please. You're so keen on critiquing my tastes, it seems only fitting I should get a glance at yours."
Will presses play and gets to work on the tent. The unmistakable sound of an acoustic guitar floats harmlessly into the air before it's accompanied by the telltale signs of a country western affectation.
Hannibal shakes his head, moving to assist Will. "And you claim that I am becoming a caricature of myself," He says with a smile.
"My profession gives me some contrast, at least."
Hannibal looks at the man beside him, tries to imagine him in a more rustic line of work. Building things with his hands, making motors run. He can't imagine that version of Will as anything other than happy.
Happy on the surface, at least.
"So what's your plan?" Hannibal asks. "You've taken me out into the woods, you've exposed me to some new aesthetics." Will laughs at that and it makes his heart feel tight. "What is the next step in your diabolical plot to make me uncomfortable?"
"A hike to the river for an afternoon of fishing."
Hannibal smiles. He should have guessed. "Your favorite pastime."
"That's right."
Hannibal stops to watch Will, observing how pleased he is with the situation. His rudeness was a symbol of his affection according to Doctor Bloom, could it be this experiment was a symbol as well? "I'm beginning to suspect you have a hidden agenda, Will."
"No psychoanalysis."
Their walk to the river is quiet, but it's a pleasant quiet that Hannibal feels an urge to sink into. Will's silence has a tendency to be rather chilling, but this one is warm, intimate. Will steps solidly, stomping a bit to alert any nearby snakes or lurking predators of his presence. It's still early spring, but winter is decidedly over.
Will's eyes are all over the place. He observes the few clouds in the cheerful blue sky, the trees that surround them, the rustle when a squirrel runs past, all with an equal fervor. He almost looks as if he's forgotten Hannibal is even there. Hannibal half-suspects that's the case, until Will catches him by the arm.
He holds a finger to his lips, and points to a nearby tree. Hannibal follows his gesture and sees a large bird perched on a branch.
"Red-tailed hawk," Will whispers.
Hannibal looks down to his arm. Will is holding it, his warm, strong hand still quite present even through the fabric of Hannibal's sleeve. He's standing very close, closer than Hannibal had realized. The smell of his abysmal aftershave seems especially chemical in the midst of so many natural aromas.
Will turns back to him, eyes round and excited. He follows Hannibal's gaze and, as if his arm had burned the other man's hand, he flinches away. He makes more space between them as they continue on their walk. Not so much that Hannibal can't see the heat creeping up his neck, though.
"It's been a while," Hannibal says, speaking softly to make the broken silence less jarring. "Since I've been on a hike."
"Yeah?"
"I used to be quite the sight-seer, though that seems like a lifetime ago."
"Seen all the sights?" He asks. "Or are there more on your bucket list?"
Hannibal looks at Will, a soft smile forming on his lips. He looks so in place here. "The sights I'm most captivated by recently don't require travel."
Will meets his eye, face confused. He looks nervous, his cheeks are flushing somewhat.
"Baltimore is a fascinating city, after all. And the surrounding region has many sights of its own."
Will nods. He realizes he's fallen behind somewhat, and speeds his stride to catch up with Hannibal.
"I really only travel when Jack sends me somewhere," He confesses. "Haven't seen much."
"Perhaps on our next excursion, I could take you beyond your comfort zone."
Will laughs. It feels loud in the ever-expanding quiet. "You won't have to take me far for that, Doctor Lecter. I hesitate to say that I have a comfort zone to begin with."
Hannibal swallows, prepares for another potentially risky move. He's full of them today, it seems. "You said we are not bound by our societal roles here, correct?"
Will is slightly thrown by the abrupt change of subject, but he nods. "That's right."
"Then are you bound to address me as your psychiatrist?"
A beat of silence. "I guess not...Hannibal."
His first name sounds new when it meets his ear, as if Will had melted it down and reshaped it to better suit his lips. He locks it away in his mind palace, marked with a bright red sticker- Extremely Valuable, Do Not Destroy.
The river isn't terribly fast or deep, but the water is tantalizingly clear. Will unceremoniously sits near the edge of the water and opens his tackle box. Without looking up, he holds out a hand. Hannibal offers the pole he's been carrying. He watches as Will baits the line.
"Looks like the lures you make at home," Hannibal says, regarding the strange rubber bait.
"It's sort of similar. Same general idea. It's called a jig lure."
Hannibal catches the way Will is smiling to himself. He finds it amusing, this sudden difference of proficiency. Isn't he used to being the smartest person in a room?
"You prefer to fly fish, don't you?"
"Yeah."
"But you've chosen against it."
Will looks up at him from where he's seated. There's a condescending fondness in his eyes. "Like I said, I'm going easy on you."
"I can tell. You've hardly insulted me all morning."
"Think of it as positive reinforcement."
Hannibal still wasn't sure exactly what Will was seeking to gain from this trip, even as the day had progressed. He has an inkling of the other man's motivations now. You keep him entertained, Alana's words echoed. Well, he's certainly entertained now.
Will isn't openly mocking Hannibal for his lack of expertise, but he's either lost his ability to mask his emotions or he isn't even trying to hide how funny he finds it.
"Is this why you drove me out here, Will? To mock me for my inexperience?" He asks after indulging Will for quite a while. He isn't hurt, but it is slightly...embarrassing.
Will, realizing he's been caught, tries in vain to mask his smile. "No, no, I want to broaden your horizons." His eyes catch movement under the surface of the water and he tracks it. "It's just funny that you're still refusing to look like you're having fun."
"Maybe my displeasure is genuine."
"It isn't. You're happy when I'm not looking."
He sounds so sure that Hannibal can't resist a smile. Caught red-handed, as they say.
"Are you that unwilling to let me win?" Will asks.
"I didn't realize we were in competition," He lies.
Will chuckles. He reels in his line and recasts, the jig landing effortlessly in the middle of the stream. "If you're really maintaining that you'd prefer to be listening to Mozart in your stuffy little office than out here in this gorgeous slice of heaven, then we can go back to the car and I'll drive you back to Baltimore."
Hannibal sighs. He looks around at the view. The river is reflecting sparkles of sunlight back to him, parting mercifully for a large stone downstream. The sounds around him contain great majesty, the flow of the water and the chirping of nearby birds harmonize with the ambient song of the forest. It is truly a breathtaking Tableau.
He turns his gaze to Will, watches how his slender fingers gently reel the line to give his bait the illusion of lively movement. His lips are pressed into a slight frown, the blue of his eyes mimic the clear sky above them.
Slice of heaven indeed.
"I want to stay."
Will nods. "Good."
"Although to be transparent with you, Will," He says, making his riskiest move yet. "I would rather be in my office with you than here alone."
Will's cheeks flush red again but his eyes don't leave the water. "Like I said, I've never liked to camp by myself, so I would probably make the same choice."
Will has their fish strung up expertly, making their transport back to their campsite all the easier. "Do you know how to build a fire?"
"Yes."
Will nods. "You work on that, I'll prep these guys."
Hannibal frowns, a bit taken aback. "You think I don't know how to clean a fish?"
Will's stare is blank for half a breath before he suddenly laughs. "Sorry, I guess I forgot who I was talking to." He holds the string of fish out to him. "Do you want to do it?"
"I take great pride in my culinary skill."
"It was an accident, Hannibal, don't be so sensitive. It's just muscle memory, I guess."
"In what way?" Hannibal spreads out the portable cooking set Will had packed, fighting the urge to sneer at its rustic offerings. Tiny cutting board, spare pocket knife, a shaker of table salt. Dreadful.
"I took a couple girlfriends camping, back when I was in college. Guess I just got used to it."
Will switches the radio back on, sets the volume low so they can maintain conversation.
"So, you camp with your lovers, then alone, and now with me." He smiles to himself at the implication.
"Yeah."
"And before that?"
"My parents. Well, mostly my dad."
Hannibal hears Will grunt, followed by the thud of a large piece of wood.
"Your mother wasn't much of an outdoorswoman, then?"
"She was cursed."
Will doesn't elaborate right away, he lets the statement settle. Still having fun, then.
"Every time she made plans to go outdoors- hiking, fishing, picnics- you could guarantee it would rain. Not just light showers either, the bottom fell out." Will laughs. "Got so bad my dad started tellin' her she couldn't leave the house when we were planning a trip."
Will clears his throat, tries to disguise what Hannibal had already noticed. A slight southern accent had crept into his voice. Hannibal had always been able to tell that Will had an accent, even now his voice was slightly strained with the effort of concealing it.
Hannibal chooses to ignore it, to file it away alongside the sound of his name in Will's mouth.
He coughs again. "She uh, didn't like camping that much anyway."
"Your father set the first rule, then."
"Yeah."
It's a treat, being able to cook over an open fire. It's something Hannibal used to do on occasion, but it's difficult in the city. He manages to make something sufficient, with the limited tools he'd been given. Not something he'd serve at a dinner party, but certainly better than what he imagines Will is used to eating while camping.
After their meal, Will produces a small bottle of whiskey from his bag. He joins Hannibal near the fire and takes a swig from it. Admiring the flames, he holds the bottle out to Hannibal.
It's interesting, how familiar the experience should be. He's shared whiskey with Will in front of a fire before, in his own home after a meal. And yet it feels entirely new. The air is cooling quickly, and the sounds of one of Will's CDs mingle with the popping of the fire. It's still acoustic, but it's earnest. Almost romantic. The music isn't terrible, he decides. At least in combination with the ambiance. It fits.
Hannibal takes the bottle, letting the warm whiskey fill his chilled body. He tries to resist the temptation to search for Will's taste on the bottle, and passes it back.
"What else did you do with your father?"
"No psychoanalysis."
"I'm not asking as your therapist, Will. You said the two of you went camping often. Is there anything else you'd like to share with me?"
Will takes another pull from the bottle. Hannibal watches his throat flex in the glow of the fire when he swallows. "I got the stuff to make smores," He says. Hannibal isn't sure if that's a distraction or an answer.
"I think I'll sit out on that activity."
"You will not."
"Will."
Will smiles at him, and it's warmer than the whiskey. "Humor me."
Will returns after a moment, junk food in tow. He skewers a marshmallow and passes it to Hannibal before preparing his own.
Will sighs. "We used to play a game, when we went on trips just the two of us. You know, when the music got repetitive but we weren't ready to turn in yet."
"What kind of game?"
"An asking questions game," Will mumbles. "I guess it wasn't much of a 'game', really. We would just ask each other questions back and forth. If you decided to pass on a question, the other person got a point."
"So the goal was to make the other person pass."
"The goal was to make conversation," Will corrects. He takes another drink before offering Hannibal the bottle. "My dad and I were a lot alike, on the surface." He casts Hannibal a sidelong glance. "You've seen how good I am at conversation."
Hannibal chuckles. Terrible. With everyone but me, it seems.
"But we had to find some way to make ourselves talk to each other, so."
Hannibal nods. He watches as Will's marshmallow lowers into the fire and catches alight.
"Will."
"Hm?"
"Your marshmallow is on fire."
"I know," He says, pulling it from the flames and blowing it out. He grins at Hannibal, gesturing with the blackened treat. "I like them this way."
Hannibal regards his own, coated in a golden brown. He's almost certain this is the correct preparation.
Will sets his charred marshmallow onto a bed of graham cracker and chocolate, pulling it off of the skewer with a second cracker. It's even messier than Hannibal expected.
"Do you wanna play?" Will asks before taking a large bite from his s'more.
"Pardon?"
"The game," He clarifies around a full mouth. There's melted marshmallow caught in his beard. Hannibal can't seem to find it distasteful.
"If you'd like."
Will puts the chocolate and the box of graham crackers between them, giving Hannibal a pointed look. Hannibal sighs before assembling his own dessert, makes a point of looking away from Will when he takes a bite.
It's all sugar. It would be better with a darker chocolate, but as it stands there's no depth of flavor whatsoever. He can feel the stickiness on his face and his hands. It's overwhelmingly unpleasant.
Will is laughing.
He prefers not to talk with his mouth full but he casts a wrathful look at Will.
"I'm sorry," He manages. He isn't sorry at all. "It's like when a cat gets tape on its fur."
Hannibal washes it down with the whiskey. Without a word, he retrieves a bottle of water from the cooler and uses it to clean himself.
"Well," He says, reclaiming his seat. Will is still smiling. "I've certainly humored you, at least."
Will sits back, looking up at the newly emerging stars. "Do you want me to go first?"
"It seems only fair, since it's your game."
"Tell me about your first kiss."
Hannibal can't help it, he chuckles. "There really isn't much to tell."
"I asked, so I either get a point or an answer."
Hannibal tries to make himself comfortable, tries to ignore all the dirt and bugs and focus on the moment instead. "I was in college," He says at last. "I was at a bar with some friends. She was pretty far from sober. I didn't even know her name."
"You were in college?"
"I was what some might call a 'late bloomer'."
"Mine was in the seventh grade. She was the tallest girl in my class and I was terrified of her. She said she wanted to kiss me after school so I did it." Will looks at Hannibal with a casual smile. "Her name was Erica."
"So we both answer?"
"Its optional for the asker. I don't get a point if you don't answer your own question."
Hannibal nods. This is nice. He's starting to feel a little buzzed. "Have you ever been intimate with Alana Bloom?"
Maybe it's the warm light of the fire, but Will's face looks red. "What? No. No, we're just friends."
There's a moment of silence between them.
"Have you?"
"Is that your question?"
"No."
"I haven't."
Will nods slowly. "I'm bad at this, I haven't done it in a while."
"The game?"
Will is close. Has he always been so close? Hannibal can almost feel his breath on his skin.
"The openness," He breathes.
Hannibal leans closer, longing to close the space between them.
"If you could go anywhere on Earth, right now, where would you go?"
Hannibal looks into Will's eyes, dazzling blue neutralized by the orange glow of the campfire. "I would take you to the Uffizi Gallery, in Florence. I'd take you on a tour, show you the art. There's a painting there that takes my breath away every time I see it." His eyes flick down to Will's lips. "I want to share that with you."
Will looks nervous. His eyes are almost afraid.
"Why did you ask me to come here, Will?"
He swallows. "I wanted you to try something new."
"Is lying allowed, in this game?"
Will looks down. Their hands are close. Slowly, deliberately, his fingers brush the back of Hannibal's hand. "I wanted to see if, underneath all the fancy clothes and weird rich people hobbies...if maybe we were compatible." Hannibal takes Will's hand in his own, squeezing it softly. "Why did you agree to come here?"
"Because I enjoy spending time with you. I'm beginning to think any activity would be improved with your company. And because it was secluded."
"You wanted to be...alone with me?" He says, like it's strange.
"I wanted your attention, and to be able to devote my attention to you, yes."
Will is drifting closer, ever closer. "My turn," Hannibal breathes. He captures Will in a kiss. It's quick and unsure but it makes him want more with every inch of him. "Do you want me to do that again?"
Will puts a hand on Hannibal's jaw, kisses him again, firmer this time. "Yes," He murmurs against his mouth.
Will pulls him closer, urging him onward. He tastes like whiskey and sugar and Hannibal sighs into it. "Yes," Will reiterates, pulling back just a fraction.
Will falls back to lie on the ground, pulls Hannibal with him until he's holding himself up on his hands. Hannibal leans down and begins to mouth at Will's neck, hungry and helpless. "Yes," Will sighs again. And again. And again.
When Will returns to work that Monday morning, he feels like a new man. The great outdoors has that effect on people.
"Morning, Will," Alana says with a smile. "How was your camping trip?"
Will is a little embarrassed to discuss it, especially since Jack is in the room. "Good, good. It was good."
"Was it as illuminating as Doctor Lecter was hoping it would be?"
Will brings a hand to the back of his neck, praying his face doesn't look as hot as it feels. "Well, it was definitely educational."
"You went camping with Doctor Lecter?" Jack probes.
"Yeah."
Jack laughs. "What I'd give to see that. Poor guy must've been so out of his depth."
"He actually handled himself surprisingly well." Will says, saying everything and nothing.