Chapter Text
The sun had set some hours ago, and you had meant to wind down with it. That is not how the night panned out for you, however. It began with completing left over paper work, and then brushing up on old case files… Which had led to you being up until almost midnight. You sighed; your tired eyes signalled it was time for you to retire to your bed.
One moment your head had hit the pillow, and your eyes closed welcoming in the waves of tiredness that wash over you… And the next, your eyes snapped open at the sound of knocking on your door. Your eye lids close briefly again, your brain trying to determine if the knocking was all a dream or not. But, you are well and truly woken when the knocking starts again. Your dream like state ends, and the sleep slips off of your form, the noise penetrating your consciousness. With a sigh, you push yourself out of bed and grab your robe off the back of the door.
Your feet hurriedly pad down your stairs, your hands flying around your waist to tie the sashes of your robe together to give you some semblance of modesty. As soon as you reach the door, you grab for the handle and open it. If you were being honest, there were a few people you were expecting to be standing at that door, but who you actually saw there was not the first on your list.
“Hannibal?” you ask, with a slight air on confusion to your tone.
You had only partially opened the door, your body half peaking out from behind it’s frame. Hannibal still took in your form, all that he could see anyway. From your appearance, it is obvious you were in bed only moments ago, and had hurriedly put on your black satin night robe. In a panic, you had sloppily tied it around your torso in an effort to get yourself ready quickly, but also in a decent enough state to answer the door. You could feel Hannibal’s gaze look you up and down, no hint of shame in his expression when his eyes finally met yours.
"Do you usually answer your door in such state of undress?“ Hannibal jests, clearly trying to divert from the real reason he was here.
(Or soften the blow: you weren’t quite sure which.)
"Do you usually make house calls so late, Doctor?” you quip in return, stepping back slightly to bring the door back wider so that Hannibal could enter your house.
“Touché.”
You made quick gesture, beckoning him in after he didn’t immediately step in. He was always so polite, all most too courteous sometimes. The man prowled into the entrance of your house, and you shut the door behind him, making note to lock the door.
Hannibal sees your body relax slightly as you walk towards the kitchen. He follows you, and cannot take his eyes off of you. Despite trying not to make it too obvious, you can still feel his… His aura behind you. You know he has never seen you in such states of undress before, and you hated how vulnerable you felt under his watchful eye. It didn’t seem like a fair playing field: him in a full three piece suit and you in little more than a pyjama set and your robe.
"To what do I owe this pleasure, Hannibal?“ you ask as you reach your kitchen side and extend your arm upwards, your hand grasping at a mug from the cupboard.
You hesitate.
"Tea?” you offer, “Or does this call for something stronger?”
"Tea is just fine, thank you, Y/N,“ Hannibal murmurs, revealing no secrets as to why he has appeared at your doorstep so late.
You nod and continue to reach for the mugs, as well as tea bags, sugar, and milk. Hannibal takes a seat at your kitchen island as you busy yourself making tea. He watches you in your ‘natural habitat’: what kind of mugs you collect, how you over sprinkle the sugar leaving a light dusting on the side, how you let the tea brew for a minute before serving. He makes a mental note. His thought process is only interrupted by you placing the mug in front him, before taking a seat opposite him.
"I hope you like cats,” you joke, as you warm you hands with your own mug (which also has a delightful painting of cats on it).
Hannibal looks down at his mug to inspect it closer; a feline face looks back at him.
“Charming,” he smiles, although it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.
“Hannibal, you’re killing me with anticipation here,” you almost beg, “Not that I don’t enjoy your company… It’s just very unlike you to not call ahead. And also… Oh yeah! It’s almost two in the morning.”
"My apologies, Y/N,“ he replies, "Unfortunately, this is not strictly a friendly meeting like our usual ones are.”
"So business not pleasure?“
He nods.
"You remember the case we first worked together?”
"The I-5 Interstate Slayer?“
"Yes. We think he may of resurfaced,” Hannibal informs you, “And, I believe- Jack believes that he may target us. We are the only original team members still active, and I think that makes us a target.”
“Fuck,” you curse out, before apologising to Hannibal; you know how much he dislikes cursing, he considered it rude.
"It’s okay,“ Hannibal reassures, "Process it however you feel comfortable- take your time-”
"-Hannibal, I appreciate your words, but I don’t need your pathologizing my reaction right now,“ you say, running a hand down the side of your face.
He nods, and watches you, although he doesn’t technically fulfil your wish. Hannibal continues to pathologize you, analysing your every move. On unsteady feet, you stand up from the bar stool with your mug in hand and walk to the kitchen sink. Your hands shake as you try to place the mug. In an attempt to act normal, you reach for the sponge to wash the mug, but you pause before your hand touches it. Behind you, you feel Hannibal’s presence.
"You’re shaking,” Hannibal murmurs in your ear.
"I…“
Hannibal is so close behind you that you can feel his breath on you neck. You try to step back but your shoulders come into contact with his chest. He reaches around the side of you and takes the mug out of your hand. It is placed on the side, and forgotten about. Hannibal’s hands slowly and gently brush down your upper arms, in an attempt to calm you down, no doubt. You brace your hands on the counter in an effort to hide the shaking in your hands. It doesn’t work.
"How did this happen, Hannibal?” you whisper, a slight tremble to your voice, “We said… We said that if he disappeared, it was because he was dead or in prison. H-How? How is he back? What are we going to do?”
“I think you should come back with me, and go from there.”
“What?” you ask, turning around to face Hannibal.
"I think you should come back to my house with me, and we can plan together,“ Hannibal repeats, "I think it would be safer, considering the recent development…”
“Hannibal… Hannibal, I couldn’t put you out like that-”
“Nonsense,” he almost purrs.
He still feels your pause, and your hesitation. Hannibal wants you to embrace him, and a darker part of him wants you to rely on him. He knows how much this case affected you when you had first worked on it. You were just a young, naïve FBI profiler when Hannibal had first met you. He still remembered the bright and eager aura you had about you- and you had come up to him, politely introducing yourself to him, and expressing how you hoped to work with him more in the future. Little did you know at that moment Hannibal had already decided he would be seeing a lot more of you; he would do everything in his power to ensure your paths not only crossed again, but become entangled.
“Please,” Hannibal insisted, “I wouldn’t feel right if I left you here alone tonight. I know… I know how much this case affected you. I couldn’t forgive myself…”
You nod, and he know he has won.
“Okay, okay,” you agree, “Thank you so much for this, Hannibal. I owe you.”
“You owe me nothing, darling,” he insists.
“I-I’m going to pack an over night back,” you inform him, with a slight dusting of blush on your cheek at his pet name for you, “I’ll be right down, I promise.”
“Of course.”