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“She’s probably out of my league anyways.” Will stated off handedly.
“What makes you say that Will?” Hannibal calmly asked.
The two men were in Hannibal’s office for their weekly “not therapy” therapy sessions. Will was roaming around Hannibal’s office as usual, unable to sit still. While Hannibal sat in one of the armchairs, watching Will browse around the room. Will was not currently working any active cases, and hadn’t in the last few weeks. Despite the reprieve from field work, Will found himself, a bit bored. He was still haunted by bad dreams, but that was something that he had been haunted by ever since he saw his first body and empathized with the killer when he was 13. And that was just from a photograph.
But, no. Other than Jack throwing Will into the field, there wasn’t much else going on in his life. It was all routine. Dogs, lectures, dogs, fishing, whiskey. So, Will talked about the only thing that was a deviation from the norm. A Hollywood actress had been attending classes and touring Quantico for a week to ‘get into the mind of her character’. She had sat in on all of Will’s lectures, even staying behind to talk to him. Apparently she had heard the rumors of Will’s ‘imagination’ and of Garrett Jacob Hobbs and Stamments and Marlow. All courtesy of Freddie Lounds and TattleCrime.com. Of course, she was beautiful, and up close, she was even more stunning. But to Will’s surprise, she was actually rather gentle as well. For some reason, Will seems to brings out the motherly instinct in women (not including Freddie Lounds of course - the woman wants to crucify Will for the sake of blog hits and likes). They would talk softly with agreeable conversations, feed him, and see if he was okay. That doting behavior, though Will didn’t realize it himself, was the only commonality in all the women he had ever been attracted to.
So when the Hollywood actress spoke to Will gently and sweetly, he realized she was attractive. But Will was no fool. He knew he had no chance with a Hollywood actress, not that he would even want to date a Hollywood actress, but the point still remains.
“Please Doctor Lecter, I know where my”, Will grimaces, “socioeconomic status lies.” he bites out.
Hannibal tilts his head slightly to indicate Will to 'please elaborate' and waits for the younger man to continue.
“Even though I may not seem like I care - which I don’t by the way, I’m not blind to how others see me. My non-designer clothes, my beat-up car, and my general lack of desire to climb any ladder.” At this point, Will had wandered to where the ladder was. He looked up at the upper level, and placed a hand one of the ladder’s rungs, “Figuratively.” He added with a smirk that he showed no one, looking down and enjoying the joke privately, wondering if Hannibal could tell he smiling without seeing his face.
Talking to Will’s back, Hannibal sat with crossed legs and hands folded in his lap. “The question is, Will, do you even want a partner that only sees these superficial things about you? Would you not prefer someone who can understand you and your mind?” A dark expression flickered over Hannibal’s face for a second. But, Will’s back was turned.
Will snorts, “To see my mind’s depths of darkness?” he looks up at Hannibal with a wry smile. Then quickly jerks his gaze away, “No, I don’t think so,” taps the rungs of the ladder before turning away to continue his pacing.
Hannibal’s eyes follow him throughout the office, “You prefer a version of love in which both parties are only hovering at the precipice?”
Will sighs heavily, “Better than both falling over the edge with nothing to hold on to.”
“And what is it that you’re holding on to at the edge? Social status and titles?”
“Normalcy…” Will says quietly, though bit unsure if he doesn’t crave to have someone accept him for who he really is. Or, would he prefer pretending just to fit in?
“Why would you want to be normal when you can be unique?”
“There’s two kinds of unique. One that’s a magnificent unicorn and another that’s the monster underneath your bed.”
Hannibal tries to catch Will's eyes, he succeeds, briefly, “Can’t the monster under your bed be a unicorn?”
At that statement, Will furrows his brows, and blinks, trying to work the doctor’s words over. “Are - are you saying I’m a beautiful monster?”
With wide awed eyes, Hannibal breathes, “Yes.”
Frowning, Will stops his pacing and thinks for a moment, “I’m not sure how I feel about that.” He admits and flops into the armchair positioned before the one Hannibal was currently sitting in. He sighs again and rub the arm rests uneasily, breathing deeply, “It’s not even really about her. I don’t even really like her. She’s gorgeous, obviously, and gentle, but I wouldn’t want to date someone who sees me only as some tool in her toolbox to get ahead.” Will twitches and looks out the window, “It’s - I can feel them. Looking at me. Sizing me up. Determining whether or not I’m worthy of …” Will waves a hand to gesture ‘whatever’. It was clear that the woman had made an instant calculations as to whether Will was boyfriend material or friend material, and Will definitely in the latter category. She was only nice to him because she did genuinely find Will fascinating but also because she did need to research for her role.
Hannibal considered Will’s words, the younger man used the word ‘gentle’ to describe what he liked about this woman. Gentle. Will likes it gently. “You feel as if the people in your life are only using you to suit their own needs with no genuine consideration for your well being.”
“Just use, use, use me all up.” Will said in a bitter sing-song voice, enunciating the p sound at the end of the sentence.
“Will,” Hannibal attempts to seek out eye contact with Will. Failing, but managing to capture Will’s gaze on some vague area on his face, he says, “I care about your well-being.” He’s serious. Hannibal does. “You are worthy to me.”
Blinking, Will is shocked for a moment, and wants to laugh, but he doesn’t find it funny. Instead, he feels his chest tighten. But he brushes it off, Hannibal is always saying things like that. It doesn’t mean anything. “That’s because you’re my psychiatrist. You’re supposed to care about my well being. Isn’t that the job description?”
“Are we not friends Will?”
Will barks a laugh. This again. Hannibal wants to be his friend. And, they have met outside the office. Hell, Hannibal’s even watched his dogs while he was out of town. “We are … friends…” Will sighs, “Though, I don’t know why you want to be friends with me. I’m not exactly… friendly.” He rubs his face, embarrassed at his own admission of his faults, half hiding his expression and half hiding to see Hannibal’s.
Hannibal looks pleased, it was the first time Will admitted that they had a more personal relationship. “Is it really so hard for you to believe that there could be someone who cares for you unconditionally?”
“Someone? Maybe. You?” Will looks at Hannibal’s face now, arching an eyebrow, trying to read the man. But the doctor’s face is inscrutable. Good or bad? It’s hard to tell. “I’m not so sure.”
Unfazed, Hannibal continues smoothly, “And why is that? Despite what I have continually said otherwise.”
“Other than the fact that you’re a psychiatrist and that you want to study my brain?”
Hannibal gave Will a stern look that said ‘we’ve already been through this already’.
Will looks away guiltily, he was taking it out on Hannibal because he was in that socioeconomic status of high society that looked down on people like Will, despite the fact that Hannibal never treated Will anything less to suggest that. In fact, the doctor had done actually the opposite, yet… “Sorry,” Will grits out, he can play nice, “It’s just hard to … fathom that we are actually friends. I know the people you associate with. They are most decidedly not like me.”
“No, no one is like you.” Hannibal’s eyes seemed to twinkle darkly when he said that.
Will’s empathy told him there was some more illicit subtext in that statement but he didn’t have the energy to unbox that line at the moment. Instead Will deflects, “Imagine what your friends would say to see you slumming it with me.”
“It would be my honor to have you by my side.” Hannibal pauses, trying to catch the younger man’s gaze, “Which I have attempted, to which you have declined each time.”
Will winced, it was true. Hannibal had invited him over to his dinner parties multiple times and he had rejected him each time. “Maybe I had been unduly prejudiced in my declinations… I won’t next time.” He should probably be a bit more reciprocal with these invitations, because friends ask each other to hang out right? “Um.. uh.. I don’t really socialize but, sometimes, if you want, though you probably wouldn’t, no pressure -,” Will takes a breath and asks, “We could go fishing?”
Hannibal smiles an actual smile; widely, broadly, he looks delighted, but his voice is as even as ever. Smoothly, he replies, “I would like to go fishing with you very much Will. Thank you. ”
Will exhaled the breath he wasn’t aware he was holding. Why was he so tense about this? It’s just Hannibal.
“And in that gesture of friendship, I would like to invite you to accompany me to the symphony next Saturday.”
Oh god, seriously? Driving to Baltimore, dressing up, getting judged by stuck up strangers, pretending to be interested in some boring classical music? Will grimaced, it sounded awful. But - “Do I have to wear a tux?”
-
The next day, Will started his day as normal. After a night of tortured sleep, he woke up damp; then showered, let his dogs out as he sipped his terrible instant coffee and munched on burnt toast. When he got to the Academy, the Hollywood actress was gone and his routine returned. Will went to one of the four fast food drive-thrus in his rotation for lunch (though there was a cafeteria at Quantico, Will never went in case some trainee might recognize him and attempt to socialize with him. No, drive-thrus were his preferred type of ‘restaurant’ - if one could even venture to call it that - because it was cheap and had limited human interaction.). By the time Will had gotten home, let the dogs out, and eaten a frozen dinner, Will should’ve nearly forgotten about his weekend plans with Hannibal. Except he hadn’t.
Will didn’t have friends. Even growing up, the concept of friendship was foreign to him. Will was too observant. Will was too awkward. Will was too easily overwhelmed. Will said too much. Will said too little. And with all the moving around, his father and him never really settled down in any one place to establish any real roots or real connections. Not that anyone could connect with Will anyway. Will’s mind can understand anyone but no one could understand Will. Until… maybe, just maybe, Doctor Hannibal Lecter.
Doctor Hannibal Lecter. This Renaissance man; lover, patron, creator of the arts, acclaimed psychiatrist, former surgeon, charming man that everyone scrambles to his feet just to have a place his table, is going fishing with Will Graham. Not-even-a-real-agent Graham; with autistic tendencies, who bristles at almost every conversation, haunted by his own imagination, has too many dogs is going to the symphony with socialite Hannibal Lecter.
His stomach did a weird flip. What did he get himself into?
-
Will was furtively scrolling through TattleCrime.com at his desk in the lecture hall when Hannibal walked in. He felt like a hypocrite looking at the detested website, but at the same time, Jack hadn’t called him in on any cases lately and TattleCrime, unfortunately, never failed to disappoint with the latest on murders and gore. Will was so concentrated on that wretched website before him that he nearly jumped out of his chair and slammed the laptop way too hard down as if he had been caught looking at porn (which Will reckoned he’d rather Hannibal think he was looking at porn than TatttleCrime) when Hannibal greeted, “Hello Will.”
Will cleared his throat in attempt to brush off his overreaction, twitching nervously, “Hey Hannibal, what, um, what are you doing here?”
Hannibal had an amused expression on his face that looked as if he wanted to say more about what Will was looking at on the laptop, but, he was a gentleman and did not, “Jack had asked me to come today and I wanted to see if I could convince you would join me for lunch.” Hannibal held up a soft sided cooler.
At that moment, Will’s nervousness eased and his stomach rumbled. Both men laughed, Will chuckled, not in the slightest embarrassed, “Good timing Doctor.”
“I was hoping to catch a bit of your lecture. But, alas, my timing wasn’t perfect.”
Will smiled and frowned at the same time. Blinking a bit in confusion, “Trust me Doctor, I don’t talk about anything you don’t know already.” With Hannibal’s PhD’s and insight into the human mind that is comparable, if not even more so, than Will’s, there nothing that Hannibal could’ve possibly learned from Will’s tried and true lectures.
“Trust me Will,” copying Will’s habit of speech imitation, “Every moment with you is a learning experience.”
For some reason, Will said, “I hope you’re taking notes cause I might just quiz you later.” Did he just flirt?
“Do I get a prize if I pass Professor?” Hannibal flirted right back.
Already out of his depth with this quick banter, Will cleared his throat instead and deflected, “So, uh, what,” looks at the cooler in Hannibal’s hand, “what, uh, did you bring?”
“Seafood Paella,” Hannibal announced.
Of course, when the containers were unloaded, the dish that was revealed looked incredible and smelled delicious, as always. And Will told the man so.
At first, Will was a bit nervous, he almost always ate alone. His socialization skills always tended to veer towards the other party thinking Will said something weird, or make an obscure reference, or used to many ‘damn big words’. Except, Hannibal got all of Will’s obscure references, had an extensive vocabulary, and even parried back the morbid quips Will is so fond of. In fact, Will almost feels comfortable around the doctor. Almost.
Before Will even realized, they had finished their meal and Hannibal was already packing up the containers.
“Ah,” Hannibal said, as if it just occurred to him, “I’ve just realized that Jack forgot to provide me with parking validation.” That was a lie, Jack did give Hannibal the parking validation ticket. “Can I trouble you to assist me?”
With a soft scoff and bob of his head, Will smirked, “One would think that someone who drives a Bentley wouldn’t bother with parking validation.”
“Perhaps it’s not spending unnecessarily that allow me such luxuries.”
“Then what do you call that ugly horse by the door in your office?”
Hannibal blinked, “You think the Chunar Horse Statue ugly?”
“I’m more a dog person,” Will joked. Hannibal looked amused. Hannibal thought he was funny. Hannibal thinks Will is funny. Nobody has equated Will with humor before. Ever. Is this really the beginning of a beautiful friendship? Will coughed, “Lets, uh, let’s go to the teacher’s lounge. I think there are passes there.”
-
Will was a little nervous to go fishing with Hannibal but not terribly so. Fishing was one of the handful of activities that Will could and have had interacted with people during. Anything with dogs and whiskey were the other two. Any other type of personal social interaction was not his cup of tea.
When Hannibal had asked what time he was to arrive at Will’s, a snarky little voice in Will’s head wanted to make it as challenging as possible. Normally, Will would make accommodations for who ever wanted to join him fishing, a reasonable hour and at a reasonable location. A part of him did so to push Hannibal away, to have the man give up on having such a persnickety friend, but a part of him also wanted to see how persistent Hannibal really was in him and if the other man truly wanted to be around him, idiosyncrasies as all. So Will said, “In the summer, the best time to go fishing is at dawn.” Which was true… but so was dusk.
To which Hannibal simply replied, “Is 5:30 acceptable?”
And so, at 5:20AM, Will stood out on his porch, already dressed in a long sleeved olive colored henley underneath his waders, hat on, fishing poles propped up against the house, sipping his sour instant coffee, blinking groggily. The seven dogs were all bouncing around outside. Unlike humans who need a moment to wake up, dogs are ready to go the moment their eyes snap open.
So it took a moment for Will to register that Hannibal had arrived. Early, too, at 5:25AM. Exactly 5 minutes early, the man really did have impeccable timing, regardless of what he may claim otherwise. When Hannibal got out of the car, Will realized the man was wearing waders! Will had wryly mentioned that Hannibal could “just fish from the shore” unless he had waders. Hannibal walked towards the trunk and pulled out a familiar soft sided cooler and thermos.
Will was a bit surprised, though he really shouldn’t have been, at the sight of the cooler and thermos. In his planning of this fishing date, Will had not mentioned or even really thought about food. As always, the actual consumption of food was the furthest thought from his mind. The only thing Will could offer Hannibal was toast, instant coffee, and whiskey.
“Good morning Will.” Hannibal said genially once he approached the porch.
Was he supposed to offer Hannibal something to drink? To eat? Is it expected to go inside? Will thought uneasily. Instead, he mumbled, “Nice waders.”
“Thank you Will. I hope you’d approve.”
“Yeah, you didn’t - are they new?”
“Yes.”
Will winced, “You didn’t have to go through all that trouble…”
“Nonsense, Will. You can’t expect me to fish from the shore every time we go fishing.”
Every time? Hannibal wants more of this? Will wondered to himself. Will had never really done anything with any regularity with a friend before. He hadn’t expected Hannibal to actually come with waders, in fact, Will had initially planned on taking Hannibal to the lake he usually took others. But since Hannibal had came prepared, Will thought, why not bring him to his favorite stream, the place where he feels most at peace?
Hannibal watched as Will confusedly sort out his emotions at Hannibal’s comment of future commitment. Clearly the younger man was used to a lifetime of people running away. Will had surrounded himself with forts but one flap was opening for Hannibal. Gentle. Gently.
“Would you like some coffee Will?” Hannibal asked after Will didn’t say anything.
Will roused, as if coming back to the moment. With a shuddering inhale, Will glanced down at his now lukewarm sour instant coffee. Was his coffee that bad? Was the fact that he even drank instant coffee a reflection of his own lack of self care and destitute means?
Will seemed to lose himself again looking into the mug so Hannibal added, “I’ve made it Irish.”
At that, Will’s hand jolted out over the porch railing and upended his mug to pour its contents. He then held out his empty mug to Hannibal with the doleful eyes of a Dickensian orphan asking for some more soup. Hannibal, of course, was only too happy to oblige and brought forth his thermos, unscrewed the cap, and poured some of the mocha colored liquid into Will’s now empty mug. Hannibal had added a bit of Baileys into his own artisanal coffee. It was a bit of calculated risk, adding the alcohol. Will could’ve reacted negatively, angry at Hannibal’s suggestion of alcoholism. But from what Hannibal has heard about fishing, it was that people always drank whie doing so and it was actually one of the highlights of fishing.
Inside the cooler were breakfast sandwiches, which the two men ate on the porch as the dogs sniffed around them. Both Hannibal and Will giving the occasional dog a pat on the head.
The rest of the morning was spent in a similar haze of pleasantness. Without complaint, Hannibal accompanied Will and his seven dogs to the stream a few miles away. Once there, Hannibal learned quickly, as Will had expected, and the pair spent their time mostly in silence and sipping on the coffee until both were pleasantly buzzed. Will had been worried that Hannibal expected them to talk the whole time, like they usually do when they interact in their “not therapy” therapy sessions. Will had always enjoyed the quiet of the stream while he fished. Just the natural sounds of the current, animals - including his own seven dogs, rooting around nearby, he could get lost in it.
Wearing waders and standing in water nearly waist deep, Hannibal was enthralled. Despite finding the activity fishing itself primitive and unrefined, Hannibal was awed to see Will in his most peaceful state. The setting of Will’s mind palace. Hannibal felt privileged to have been given access to this sacred place of Will’s. Watching Will like this was left Hannibal in a stunned reverence such as that of great works of art have. But Will affected him more than any work of art ever has. Will has affected Hannibal more than anyone ever has. Hannibal wanted Will to include Hannibal in his mind palace just like Will was already in Hannibal’s. At the moment, Will was relegated to only one small room of Hannibal’s mind palace, but Hannibal wanted, hoped, Will would open the door and find his way through the rest of the rooms.
Around noon, Will announced that the fish were no longer biting and that they should pack it up for the day. Will chuckled easily and started to move towards the shore, keeping his hands aloft as he held his bucket of fish in one hand and his fishing rod in the other, all while trying to balance his movement so he doesn’t get swept under by the tide. It was not graceful but it was very effective. Of course, Hannibal, with his nimble swiftness and cat-like reflexes, waded through the water, similarly holding a fishing rod and bucket of fish, seemed to make the awkward movements graceful.
Placing his own rod and bucket on the embankment first, Will turned to take Hannibal’s to put down as well. Once the objects were placed and his hands free, Will proceeded to clamber up the soft mud as he done many times before, when, suddenly, the sound of a gun firing off in the distance startles him and Will loses his grip. Except, as he starts to fall back, he feels strong arms grab a hold of him and steady him.
With Will pressed against him, the younger man’s back against Hannibal’s chest, his arms wrapped around Will’s waist; it was the closest they had ever physically been. The scent of the younger man enveloping his senses and Hannibal was shocked to find a pang of arousal flow through him. So it was Will who first spoke.
“Nice catch,” Will said with a nervous chuckle, “Looks like you’re reeling in more than just fish today.”
A rare moment where Hannibal couldn’t think of a clever retort and lamely replied, “So it would seem,” finally releasing his grip on the other man and gently pushing him upwards towards the embankment.
Once they were both on dry land, Will realized that during his fumble he had knocked some mud and water onto Hannibal that wasn’t protected by his waders. Looking apologetically at the man, Will bashfully said, “Aw geez, I didn’t realize I got you all dirty. Let’s, um, get cleaned up at my house?” Uncertain if Hannibal wanted to cut bait and run or not.
“No need to apologize Will, I got here all on my own.” Will was standing face to face with Hannibal, less than an arm’s length away. Almost on impulse, Hannibal placed a hand on the younger man’s shoulder, fingers reaching up to stroke the curls of Will’s nape. “Thank you for bringing me here Will. It was,” Hannibal said sincerely, and when those blue eyes met his, Hannibal felt his breath catch for a moment, exhaling, “Lovely.”
-
Once the two men trekked back to Will’s home, the seven dogs trotting alongside, Will had both of them take off their waders - to air dry on the porch, while they get cleaned up. Of course, Hannibal had to foresight to bring a change of clothes. The man wasn’t about to drive home with wet waders on.
After they had both washed up, Will began to prepare the fish, only saying, “I hope you like grilled fish.” Giving Hannibal an out if the man wanted to leave. Except, he didn’t, and even after lunch, the doctor made no designs to leave. Hannibal continued to lounge around with Will and his dogs, following Will companionably as the younger man went about his normally solitary weekend routine. And, Will, never been in a position where someone was content to simply accompany him, allowed it. Even if he didn’t, the younger man wasn’t sure how to even go about telling Hannibal to leave.
At mid afternoon, the two men were taking the dogs on another romp through the woods.
“Your stream,” Hannibal started, “How often do you go there?”
Will frowned and glanced at Hannibal. “Literally?” He sighed, “Not as often as I’d like.” He walked a few steps, “Figuratively? More often than I’d like.”
Hannibal hummed in acknowledgment, “My own piece of quiet, my memory palace, is vast, the foyer is the Norman Chapel in Palermo.” Hannibal paused in his steps and turned to Will, “I’d like to take you there one day Will.”
Will raised his eyebrows in disbelief as he looked at Hannibal. No one had ever wanted to travel with Will for leisure. Hell, no one had ever wanted to take Will anywhere before. Rather than comment on that, Will mimicked Hannibal, “And when was the last time you were there?”
The older man’s eyes crinkled fondly, “I walk the grounds almost daily. However, the last time I was in Italy was decades ago."
“Do you miss it?” Will asked.
“Although I reflect upon it fondly, my memories provide me more than enough nourishment. Besides,” Hannibal stepped forward, starting to stroll once more, “there’s no where I’d rather be now than right here.”
Will gave Hannibal one of his confused smiles, not exactly sure what the other man exactly meant, because, surely, he doesn’t mean with him.
-
The day Will had spent with Hannibal fishing had brought down one of Will’s unseen forts and Will became more amicable towards Hannibal. In fact, the two men began to even text one another with the frequency and familiarity of childhood friends. Messaging casually about random thoughts that came to mind.
Seeing that Will had become more receptive, Hannibal ventured on Tuesday to ask Will out for lunch. Saying that he was in the area to check out a new butchery - which was mostly true, except that the pig he was interested was free range rude and that he was the butcher. However, because this prior engagement, Hannibal was unable to prepare a meal beforehand and was resigned to take Will to a restaurant nearby. A risky maneuver considering the empath’s almost irrational disdain towards human interaction. But Hannibal did like to put Will out of his comfort zone. He’ll just do it gently.
So when Hannibal arrived at Quantico, he parked in the visitors’ area and went to Will’s lecture hall. As they had discussed previously via texts, Will was waiting for him there, already packed up. Immediately, Will noticed Hannibal’s lack of accessories. No cooler, no thermos and raised his eyebrows.
This time Will was prepared. After his last lecture he put his laptop and his papers away quickly. He was leaning against the desk when Hannibal arrived. As usual, Will never make the first move and waits for Hannibal to speak first.
“Hello Will, how have your lectures been today?”
Will stared at Hannibal. Small talk sucked. “It was….” but small talk was the polite thing to do right? “Fine. How was your … trip your boutique butchery?”
Hannibal makes some sort of cannibal pun. “But, because of that excursion, I didn’t have time to prepare lunch. Fortunately, there is a restaurant nearby that I had been meaning to try. I’ve been assured that it is rather good.”
“I thought you were very careful about what you put in your body Hannibal." Will teased.
Hannibal licked his lips, the idea of putting Will in his body was enticing, a train of thought deviated from the main to consider the taste, “Yes, I am, but one must always be open to the possibilities of trying new things.”
Will sighed, he supposed Hannibal was right. He could try new things and going to a restaurant. As awful as the idea of social dining was, it couldn’t be that bad, so he simply nodded and started towards the parking lot.
Although it was true that Hannibal didn’t have time to prepare lunch, he also wanted to be seen with Will on the academy’s grounds. He wanted everyone to see him with Will, to associate him as Will’s companion, to have them see Will enter his Bentley, to claim the professor as his.
-
Hidden inside a nondescript strip mall, Hannibal leads Will to a door with no sign above it. Inside, however, the room transformed. The restaurant was dim, lit only by a few lamps and a skylight, illuminating beneath it a mass of rocks upon which water trickled down to a small pool and Japanese garden. Throughout the space were Byobu paper folding screens blocking other diners from view. The effect made the diner feel secluded in the woods with the soft sounds of a babbling brook nearby.
Silently, an employee appeared, and in hushed tones asked Hannibal for the name of the reservation. Hannibal provided his name. When the waiter led them to their table, Will expected to be given the menu but waiter left without another word.
Hannibal explained, “This restaurant has a rather unique concept. There is only one set menu but it changes daily to whatever suits the chef’s fancy. No substitutions. No modifications. You eat what is placed in front of you.”
“Bold concept. Rather revealing of the chef.”
“How so?”
Will snorts, he knows Hannibal knows it too, but he says so anyway, to humor him, “He’s an egomaniac for sure.”
“Of course.”
“Narcissistic control-freak. Definitely some repressed anger issues. Obsessive compulsive. Neurotic. But, authentic. If not else, honest.” Will shrugged, “Not terrible quantities for a chef. Actually,” he added, “no too terribly unlike you Doctor Lecter.”
Hannibal smiled, with teeth, “Oh, doubtful. I don’t repress anything.”
Will smirked, “No, I guess not. You don’t seem like the kind of man to deny yourself anything.”
-
It was Wednesday and that meant it was time for his weekly “not therapy” therapy session with his friend, the psychiatrist. It was routine, it was stable, expected, unchanging, except, that it had changed. Namely, the ugly horse wasn’t there anymore. In its place, of roughly the same size, was a statue of a big bad wolf in mid transformation. The statue was all black but no less macabre. The figure appeared to both the grandmother in the fairy tale and the masquerading wolf. With flesh and fur dripping off, the mouth half filled with fangs and molars, it was unclear whether the wolf was transforming into the grandmother or the grandmother was transforming into the wolf. It was like a 3D Rorschach. Whatever you think it was transforming into revealed who you think you're transforming into.
Will had noticed the change the straight away, with his satchel still in his hand - he hadn’t even had time to fling it onto the chaise, he stood in the middle of the office staring at the statue. Surely Hannibal didn’t buy a new piece of artwork based on Will’s aesthetic preferences. Will was known for many things and his artistic vision was not one of them. But the real source of his consternation was the fact that the doctor had heeded him. Will wasn’t even sure how to even address that. He didn’t even know how to feel about that.
“I can’t tell if the wolf is becoming human or the other way around.” Will eventually said, tensely.
“Why not both?” Hannibal calmly replied, already seated in one of the armchairs, studying the younger man.
“Like Schrödinger's cat? It’s both beast and man? The moment captured in sculpture?” Will sighed and roughly rubbed a hand across his face. “But the FBI isn’t so theoretical.”
“No, I suppose Uncle Jack would have quite the time, if during a press conference, if he were to suggest that the missing girls were both alive and dead.”
At that, Will laughed, heartily, his imagination slamming that image together. Finally turning to look at Hannibal, he sat down in his ascribed armchair now that he had relaxed. “Freddie Lounds would have a field day. ‘Will Graham: man or beast?’”
“Is one exclusive of the other?”
“I know I’m not becoming some mindless beast.” Will said a bit snidely.
The older man smiled in amusement, “No, what you are Becoming is something stellar.”
-
Will had wanted to cancel at least half a dozen times while he was getting ready for the symphony that Saturday. The amount of preparation and (cringe) social interaction that was necessary to just attend a stupid concert was almost revolting. He had to drop his suit off at the dry cleaners, then pick said suit up; giving his information to the little old lady that ran the shop. Then, go to the store and talk to the sommelier about which wine paired best with … whatever, because he realized he didn’t know what Hannibal was preparing for dinner that night. Finally, Will had to groom himself and prepare his body to be presentable. Which apparently required showering, trimming his beard, styling his hair with some product that he didn’t realize he owned (which actually resulted in his curls looking even more unruly than usual), and putting on like 20 items of clothing. Underwear, undershirt, dress shirt, cuff links, tie, tie clip, coat, trousers, belt, sock, sock garters, and shoes. All the while attending to his dogs and attempting to keep himself dog hair free.
The Quantico professor had a hard time believing that anyone could possibly enjoy this, let alone dressing like this on a daily basis. Except, that he knew someone that did. And although Will could empathize and use his ability to look into Hannibal’s mind, he didn’t want to. A part of him didn’t want to invade the privacy of his one and only friend and another part, honestly the larger part, was afraid to find out what was kicking around in Hannibal’s head that found Will so intriguing.
-
During intermission Will goes to the bar to get drinks. When he returns, he sees that Hannibal has already drawn a crowd with several ladies and a few gentlemen attempting sequester his attention. Of these hanger-ons is Miss Out-of-my-League. Except Miss Out-of-my-League was not out of his league for Hannibal. The beautiful Hollywood actress was staring at Hannibal with expectant eyes, batting them so that he’d spare her a longer second glance.
Will maneuvered his way towards Hannibal, or more like attempt to find an isolated spot away from others but still within Hannibal’s line of sight so that the man knew that Will had returned. Except, even before he got into Hannibal’s line of sight, the other man had already turned and locked eyes with Will. The doctor smiled broadly and opened his arms in welcome, like he was some king welcoming a victorious hero home, the people parted to let Will through.
“Ah, my gracious companion has returned,” Hannibal announced to his adoring fans, whose heads all turned to see who has distracted their shining star.
Begrudgingly Will moved closer to Hannibal, not that he had much of choice after been put on blast like that. Miss Out-of-my-League’s eyes lit up with recognition and her mouth formed a little, ‘o’, of surprise when she saw him and squeaked, “Professor Graham! I had no idea you liked the symphony.”
Never one to pretend, Will replied curtly, “I don’t.” He felt a little bad that he was so rude to her when she had been nothing but gentle towards him, but something about the way that she looked at Hannibal made him feel … angry. He wasn’t sure exactly why he felt that sudden surge of irritation, it wasn’t because he was jealous of her, but, almost, as if he felt possessive of Hannibal. And, at that, he suddenly realized he was there with Hannibal and that the man had invited him in an attempt to share one of his favorite pastimes with Will and a dismissal of the symphony was a dissmissal of Hannibal, so he hastily added, “Usually.”
But before Will could impart any more of his feelings on the performance, Hannibal said, “After much cajoling, I finally managed to persuade Will to join me tonight.” Placing a hand on Will’s shoulder and sliding it down to settle between the shoulder blades. A protective gesture that had Will unconsciously stepping closer to Hannibal after he realized that his little comment had everyone staring at him now, trying to catch his gaze so that they could talk to him. The thought of him playing 20 questions to determine Will’s social status while they name dropped their connections and made subtle references to their own inherited wealth made Will shudder.
Will wasn’t usually fond of body contact, usually tensing or jerking away. But he didn’t seem to mind Hannibal’s hand on his back. Or if he did, it didn’t make him want to recoil. Turning away from Miss Out-of-my-League, Will handed Hannibal his glass of champagne. An intimate gesture that had Hannibal’s entire focus on Will while the rest of the world melted away.
Hannibal relished in the way Will leaned on him for support. A united front against the mundane. Committing the moment forever in his memory palace. Storing the image of Will, in his dashing blue suit, the position of the curls on his head, the feeling of the younger man’s body pressed against -
“Professor Graham gives the most elucidating lectures.” The Hollywood actress announced to no one in particular, taking the silence as an opportunity to put herself in the center of attention. “When I was sitting in his lectures for the week, I found myself most captivated by his presentations.”
Unfortunately, Will was far to uneasy under everyone’s gaze to be let himself be so enraptured. With the choice of either looking into Hannibal’s intense gaze or the scrutiny of the crowd, Will’s eyes darted around and shifted uncomfortably in an attempt to settle on something neutral.
For a moment, no one spoke. The upper echelons had no idea who Professor Graham was, hell, they probably didn’t even know who Will Graham was unless they had a morbid curiosity and read TattleCrime. No, the rich did not join law enforcement. Bribe? Yes. Sacrifice their life to save another? No way.
With a deep inhale, Will could almost hear Hannibal’s neck creak as he turned to acknowledge the interloper. The doctor’s face was cold, one could almost see the flames flickering in his eyes from silent rage when he said, “Will certainly does have a unique way of thinking.”
At this Will snorted and replied dismissively speaking into his drink, “Just an overactive imagination.”
“I would ask how you two know each other,” a thin bird-like woman said, “But I think that would be fairly obvious.”
“Alas, you’ve exposed me Mrs. Komeda,” Hannibal said with a tinkle in his eye , “I guess my life outside of the symphony isn’t as mysterious as I had made it out to be,” turning back to gaze adoringly at the twitchy man by his side.
-
“I bet you never felt like someone was out of your league.”
“On the contrary, the one time that I pursued the object of my affection, it proved to be out of my league.”
“What? That seems hard to believe. I can’t imagine anyone saying no to you,” the younger man said a bit bitterly.
“I admit, it is a rather discomfiting idea,” the older man said with his version of a shrug which was just a slight tilt of his head. “But true nonetheless.”
“Really? What happened? Did you ask her out?” Will asked, genuinely curious.
A slight pause. “I did.”
“And?”
“We had dinner and went to a concert.” Hannibal said evenly.
“Did you cook for her? Your food is so good, I’d date you just for your food.” Will said, groaning slightly at the memory of the meals he had at Hannibal’s. It was way better than what he prepared for himself and ten times better than anything anyone has ever prepared for him.
Hannibal raised an eyebrow. “I did.”
“”And she still wasn’t interested?”
“Not romantically.” Hannibal sighed.
“Maybe you weren’t cooking the good stuff,” Will teased.
“I assure you,” Hannibal said seriously, “I was cooking the 'good stuff'.”
“Well, maybe it’s what you said then. Did you tell her you liked her?”
“I told that person that I found them attractive and wished to be in their company more often.”
Them? Their? “Your choice of pronouns is interesting doctor, is the object of your affection not a woman?”
Hannibal turned to face Will, his expression unreadable as he studied the younger man. “Does the idea of two men being romantically involve bother you Will?”
“What? No, no.” Will back pedaled, a bit offended that Hannibal would think that of him. “I don’t have any prejudices against same sex relationships. I just … didn’t think you were… and the way all the girls talk about you… Though,” Will chewed his lip, “now that I think about it, maybe some guys too…”
“And what is it that they say about me?”
“Oh, well…” Will shrugged, “some of the other instructors at Quantico have noticed you stopping by my lecture hall and have been calling you … the well dressed man.” He said quickly with a sigh.
“That doesn’t sound particularly… exciting.” Hannibal said with an imperceptible moue of disappointment.
But Will noticed, and quickly added, “They also said you were hot and looked like a European prince. I think they all want to fulfill their Disney fantasy and have you whisk them away to a castle somewhere.” Will snorted and looked into Hannibal’s eyes. There was a dark twinkle that always lit up when Will was right about something. Will groaned. “You have a castle don’t you?”
Now Hannibal really smiled, he was incredibly amused, “I find it hard to say if it even still stands, it’s been many decades since I’d last been there.”
Will rolled his eyes and sighed, “Alright. What…” he waved his hand in an attempt to find the right word, “brand of royalty are you?”
“What brand?”
“Oh you know, what they call you, your Dukedom, fiefdom, whatever.”
“Well, considering that the title is now part of a defunct political party of a -“
Will glared at Hannibal and the man paused in his deflection. The doctor smirked, “Count,” he said smoothly.
Will groaned. “First of all, I need to start running background checks on all my friends.” He paused to glare at Hannibal again. “Secondly, if this person still doesn’t like you after you cooked for them, took them to a concert, and probably heard you wax lyrical about how interesting and unique they are like you do to -.” Will paused his ranting and blinked. “Oh.” He looked at Hannibal.
Hannibal smiled. Took him long enough.
And for nearly 5 minutes, neither men spoke. Will seemed paralyzed by the revelation, his blue eyes wide like a deer caught in headlights, his normal twitches stilled, frozen. While Hannibal appeared like the visage of calm as usual, waiting patiently and scrutinizing the other man’s reaction.
Will had retreated back into his mind, searching his eidetic memory for any clues he might’ve missed. While it was true, Hannibal had always praised him, fed, and wanted to be around him, Will had taken it as just gestures of normal friendship. Granted, he hadn’t really ever had any friends so how was he to know that it was anything but?
Finally, Will croaked, “How long?”
“Since the moment you looked into my eyes and stormed out the door in Jack’s office.” Hannibal replied calmly, as if a love confession was as easy as reciting a recipe.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Will said weakly.
“In case you didn’t feel the same about me. I didn’t want to lose your friendship.”
“You’d be fine just being my friend forever?” Will asked, tortured at the idea of Hannibal burning an eternal torch for him.
“As long as you’ll have me. Yes." The older man said, unfazed.
For a moment Will couldn't breathe. It was the most romantic thing he had ever heard, not just said to him, but ever. Hannibal really, really cared about him. A surge of emotion went through the Quantico professor, he felt as if his heart was melting, a hitch caught in his throat, his head buzzing in a way he had never felt before. For the first time in his life, Will felt wanted. For the first time in his life felt didn't feel alone. For the first time in his life, he felt loved.
With his eyes glistening, breath caught in his throat, Will brought his arm up to pull Hannibal into a hug. In this embrace, he leaned his head against Hannibal's chest, listening to the man's heart beating as hard as his, imagining that their hearts were beating as one, that they had melded together, forever conjoined - both no longer alone... until the end of time.