Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Will checked the list on his phone again as his feet crunched on the sidewalk path through the farmers’ market. Asparagus, broccoli, brussels sprouts, squash– things he probably couldn’t find at the gas station on his way back into Wolf Trap. Besides, he would always prefer the fresh air and sunshine over stale central heating and harsh fluorescents. It was easier to handle the world like this.

People bustled around him, giggling and chatting, clutching plastic bags stretched full with produce and handmade crafts. His path was more methodical, picking his way around the outside, a silent observer of the human chaos. It was nice, for once, to be surrounded by so much life rather than death. He wondered what it would be like to once again find that life in his own home.

The shopping list was not for him. Separated at the age of eight, raised on different ends of the Country, his twin brother Adam was finally coming to visit. This was not to say that they hadn’t been in contact since childhood, but their bi-weekly phone calls were a poor substitute for real, human connection. A nervous excitement thrilled through his body, and he rubbed his palms against his jeans to ease the tension.

He had vague memories of living with Adam, fuzzy around the edges, but with the middles still intact. He did not envy his parents for those times. He couldn’t imagine raising one child, let alone a set of autisic twins. They bounced off of each other growing up, for better or worse– piling into bed like dogs on their best days, busting each others’ noses during meltdowns on their worst. It had been ages since Will had felt that kind of physical one-ness. The only person who even came close these days was probably–

Hannibal.

Those deep eyes met his from across the path, glowing the same color as the honey he was settling into the depths of a canvas bag. He looked wildly out of place in his wide paisley tie. Convention dictated that Will must be the one to approach first, now that their relationship had progressed from “conversations” to “therapy,” but every instinct in his body was telling him to run. Instead, he crossed the path.

“I wasn’t aware your tastes extended to the home-grown.”

“Would you have me buy my produce from the supermarket? I wonder what impression I’ve left you with…”

Hannibal’s tone was light and playful. He seemed totally in his element despite his incongruity with the rest of the local soccer moms at the table, their kids grabbing at free samples with grubby little hands.

“Thought you might have had that kind of thing imported. Why buy your peppers from Mary Lou when you could ship them in from Spain?”

“On the contrary. Mary Lou’s harvest will be the perfect complement for my breakfast, besides having the added benefit of letting me personally thank her for her contributions. I find that increased distance puts a stress on those personal relationships.”

Will smiled softly as they started down the path together.

“Leave it to you to turn grocery shopping into networking.”

“And you, Will? What is so appealing about fresh produce that you would make the hour’s drive?”

“I have a guest for the weekend. His tastes are rather… specific.”

Without having to be asked, he passed his phone over to Hannibal, showing him the text conversation from Adam.

[Will]: Going out for groceries today. What do you eat?

[Adam]: I eat cereal for breakfast during the week, but sometimes on the weekend I make eggs. For lunch I usually have some kind of sandwich (BLT or ham and cheese) with chips and fruit (grapes, strawberries, or pineapple), and for dinner I eat chicken with mac ‘n cheese and a vegetable (usually broccoli, but I have recently been introduced to asparagus, brussels sprouts, and squash, so those would be acceptable as long as they are properly cooked and don’t make my teeth squeak).

Secretly, he envied Adam– his job at the planetarium in California allowed him to keep to a strict schedule without having to worry about being whisked away to another time zone at a moment’s notice. Will’s lifestyle necessitated a different kind of comfort food. It was rare to find a cheap motel without a mediocre pizza on speed dial. Hannibal would probably be appalled if Will hadn’t the foresight to sweep the takeout containers into the bathroom trash before inviting him in for breakfast. He could probably smell the grease in the air anyways.

With a neutral expression, Hannibal slid the phone back into Will’s hand.

“Not much room for experimentation.”

“If I can figure out how to cook brussels sprouts, I’ll consider that my ‘experimentation’ for the week.”

“From the rest of this menu, I assume simply oven-roasting them would suffice.”

“Is that your official diagnosis, Doctor?”

“A temporary one. For best effect, I would have to extend an invitation of my own. You and your guest would be most welcome to join me for dinner tomorrow, if you are not otherwise occupied.”

Will smiled to himself. His coworkers all must have had some aversion to doing the most basic of Google searches, since they seemed to believe that he was an only child. Hannibal did not appear to be an exception. He weighed the idea out in his mind. How would Hannibal react to meeting his mirror? How would Adam react to meeting his therapist? In all honesty, it would probably be best to take Adam out to dinner before he had settled himself into the house, when Will’s dining table would be just as new and frightening as Hannibal’s.

“His flight comes in at seven. I’ll leave the menu in your capable hands.”

Plus, the mental image of Hannibal serving mac ‘n cheese on his fine china was far too good to pass up.

Chapter Text

“Where are we going?” Adam asked.

“Dinner, first. We might stay a little while after to talk, and then back to my place.”

“I don’t like eating in new restaurants.”

“Yeah, Adam, I know. We’re not going to a restaurant. My friend Doctor Lecter invited us over for dinner. I showed him your foods, he’s a very good chef.”

Adam gave a soft hum in acknowledgment, and then went back to staring vaguely out the window.

“I don’t want to stay too long. It takes an hour and seven minutes to drive from Baltimore to Wolf Trap, and cars make me anxious.”

“I can’t give you a number right now, but just let me know if it starts to be too much, Hannibal will understand.”

Adam nodded, his fingertips tapping in tune with the music filtering softly through the car’s speakers.

The rest of the drive passed in a sort of easy silence, Adam still tired from the flight and Will content to have a moment of peace before the mental exercise that was a dinner party with Hannibal Lecter. He was almost surprised how much Adam had changed since the last time he’d been to New York. After their stepfather’s death, Adam had sold the apartment, gotten into his first serious relationship (and subsequent break-up), and moved across the country to follow his dreams. Just a few years ago Will wouldn’t have believed it possible, but the grown man currently dozing off against his passenger-side window was proof that his brother was not to be underestimated.

They pulled up into Hannibal’s driveway, and he gave Adam’s shoulder a firm shake. He startled awake, rubbing the sleep from his eyes as he tried to take in his surroundings. Hannibal’s house was always a bit of a shock for first-timers, and the inside would be no different. It was only frequent practice that kept Will from double-taking at the centerpieces of animal skulls and over-ripe fruit. Tonight, however, there was a crack in the facade. The front door of the house had been left open, light spilling out like blood from a fresh wound. Ringing the front bell had always been part of Hannibal’s theater, what reason could he have for changing the rules tonight?

Adam was already standing in the driveway, or Will would’ve insisted he wait in the car. Even so, he tried to subtly shoulder his way in front of Adam in case there was something else going on. The door swung open with a low creak, spare key still sitting in the lock. He almost laughed at the idea of Hannibal keeping a spare tucked under the doormat, or perhaps secreted away in a decorative stone turtle, but then they were inside, rounding the corner towards the dining room, walking right into whatever Hannibal had planned for them. As always, it was the one thing he couldn’t have predicted.

Hannibal stood at the edge of the second floor landing, lips pinched with annoyance as he glared down towards the bottom of the stairs at another man. A man with sandy-colored hair that silvered at the edges as it fell past his ears. A man whose broad frame stretched the shoulder seams of his navy polo shirt. A man who, had Will not been faced with the genuine article in front of him, he could’ve sworn was Hannibal Lecter. It seemed he was not the only one who had brought his mirror to dinner.

Adam peered around Will’s side, trying to find out why he’d stopped in the middle of the hallway, then suddenly began to bounce on his heels.

“Nigel?”

The man who was Decidedly Not Hannibal spun at the sound of Adam’s voice.

“Cosmo? No freakin’ way.”

The man– Nigel, apparently– opened his arms wide and Adam rushed into them, allowing himself to be drawn in for a hug and then held back at arm’s length.

“Nigel, what are you doing here? And… why are there two of you?”

Nigel barked a laugh, waving Hannibal down casually from his point at the top of the stairs. Standing beside each other made their differences stand out in a new light. Nigel’s hair slipped forwards onto his forehead, and the buttons on his polo were undone– collar spread wide to show off the tattoo on the side of his neck. They were tiny details Will’s eyes would’ve glazed over if he had met the man on the street, but set in juxtaposition to Hannibal, his unpolished edges looked sharp enough to cut.

Hannibal extended his hand to Adam, but his eyes stayed fixed on Will, the corners of his mouth threatening to tug upwards against his impermeable facade.

“It seems you intended to surprise me.”

“It seems I was successful,” Will teased, “Did you intend the same?”

“‘I will seize fate by the throat; it shall certainly never wholly overcome me.’”

Ah, well that explained the front door.

“If anyone could take the breath of fate itself, I’d place my bets on you.”

Nigel chose that moment to stage-whisper dramatically into Adam’s ear.

“I think you’ve got it backwards, Cosmo. How are we going to handle having two of them?”

“My apologies. Hannibal Lecter,” he said, turning back to Adam, “You must be Will’s guest for the weekend.”

“Adam. Adam Raki. It’s nice to meet you, Doctor Lecter.”

“Please, call me Hannibal.”

“Will doesn’t.”

The blunt statement elicited another round of laughter from Nigel, who leaned back in towards Adam, this time dropping his voice low enough that the other two couldn’t hear. They could make their assumptions, however, based on Adam’s soft “oh” and the pink flushing high on his cheekbones. Nigel’s hand had slid across to rest on Adam’s shoulder blade, not quite an embrace, but something familiar nonetheless. He extended the other to Will.

“I’m Nigel. You must be Will. My brother talks a lot about you.”

“Not mine?”

“Eh, sometimes. I think Hannibal’s still got him beat, though.”

Will couldn’t keep his eyes from flicking to Hannibal’s face for his reaction. He looked as if he were searching for some excuse to kick Nigel out, or perhaps sucking on a lemon. Will would bet those expressions looked remarkably similar.

“So how do you know Adam?”

“We share a roof. I go up to smoke and he goes up to stargaze. Sometimes, if I help him set up the telescope, he’ll make me a home-cooked dinner. Best neighbor I’ve ever had.”

“He’s exaggerating. I only make him mac ‘n cheese.”

“You get out pots and everything, Cosmo. Better than freakin’ crap pizza or whatever Darko’s hauled in.”

Hannibal smiled.

“It seems you have been a good influence on my brother, Adam. It is rare to hear him speak for so long without profanity.”

“Screw you, brolis, he doesn’t like that crap. Gets all stuck up in his head or whatever. Doesn’t matter. He’s a good kid. Respect him or I take your tongue.”

Adam elbowed him in the side.

“Please don’t start a fight. What would you even do with his tongue anyways?”

“Well for starters I’d shove–”

Hannibal cut that statement off before it could be finished.

“Before this ends in violence, perhaps we could relocate our conversation to the dining room? Dinner will be getting cold.”

And with a wave of his hand, Hannibal swept them all in for what was certain to be the weirdest dinner party of Will’s life.

Chapter Text

Hannibal made a surprisingly good man ‘n cheese. The pasta was clearly homemade, smothered in a creamy white sauce that perfectly complemented the grilled chicken breast and roasted brussels sprouts it had been served with. For everyone but Adam, the food had been served in the same bowl, chicken and brussels sprouts arranged into neat lines across the top of the pasta, but much to Adam’s joy, his was separated out into three perfect circles– equal in size and not-quite touching in the center of his plate. Will had to admit that Hannibal could make art even out of the basics.

The only thing on their plates that was not on Adam’s list was the bacon crumbled up and mixed into the brussels sprouts. It was noticeably absent from Adam’s plate, as well. Was that consideration for Adam’s tastes, or could it possibly be… Nigel’s face betrayed the answer. He locked eyes with Will as he took his first bite– a challenge. Will took a bite of his own. It was just as good as it looked.

“So, Will, tell me, has Hannibal taken you yet to meet his butcher?”

Will kept his gaze steady, refusing to let it drift.

“We are aware of each other, but I have yet to see him in action.”

Thankfully, Nigel left it that, going back to his meal of what was definitely not bacon. Or perhaps it was, if bacon referred more to the cut and cook of the meat and less so what animal it hailed from. Either way, he was glad Hannibal had left it off of Adam’s plate. That inevitably would have led to a mess down the road that he did not want to have to deal with. Adam, on the other hand, did not seem to notice that his meal was any different from the rest of the table, offering his compliments to the chef as he practically shoveled it all in.

“The brussels sprouts are very good, Hannibal. You make them the same way Nigel does.”

Hannibal’s eyes widened slightly.

“Nigel cooks for you?”

“Not as often as I cook for him, but he thinks it's good for me to try new things sometimes.”

“That’s because it is,” Nigel teased, trying to kick him under the table but missing and hitting the table leg instead– earning himself yet another glare from his twin.

“This particular recipe is one that Nigel and I ate often in our youth. I was simply surprised that he remembered how to make it.”

“How could I forget when you used to drag in into the kitchen to help? Even as kids I told him we should be out, enjoying the sun, but he’d rather be cooped up in this old museum with his cobwebs and his sexy paintings.”

Adam tried to muffle a snort in his water glass, but wasn’t entirely successful, dribbling a few drops down onto the tablecloth. Nigel absently handed his napkin over, pressing it underneath Adam’s chin to catch the worst of the spill. Will wondered, not for the first time, if there was something more going on between them than just friendship, but quickly dismissed the idea. Adam had always been the type to overshare if something like that had happened. Besides, it wasn’t as if Will exactly had a frame of reference for positive male friendship. His brother was about as close as he could get in that regard, and they usually spent their visits curled up under a pile of weighted blankets watching the stars spin past on Adam’s ceiling.

As they finished up their dinner, he could see his brother starting to droop, but surprisingly, he made no indication that he wanted to leave. Perhaps the company made all the difference, Will thought as he watched Nigel fluff up Adam’s hair, resulting in a lazy grin from the younger boy. Some quiet part inside himself couldn’t stop thinking “What if that were us?” He had been on the receiving end of Hannibal’s affection before, but it was rarely so freely given. Even so, he began to long for the feeling of hands– brushing his wrists, his shoulders, coming up solid to cup his cheek and let him nuzzle in. Will was a tactile creature, and he itched to learn the shape of that man beneath this skin. Perhaps that would all someday be his.

Chapter Text

As Will had predicted, the conversation moved from the table to the plush couches of Hannibal’s sitting room. Adam was really starting to look tired, and it was weighing on his decision-making abilities– leaving him hovering in the corner of the room instead of trying to parse out which seat to sit in. After a fidgety and awkward pause, during which he pretended to analyze the books on Hannibal’s shelf, Adam slid himself onto the couch next to Will, tucking firmly against his side.

It wasn’t unwelcome, and in other circumstances, he would’ve gratefully curled himself back around and held his brother close, but the night was drawing to a close and he really needed to be lucid enough to make the drive back to Wolf Trap. He let his elbow dig slightly into Adam’s side, hoping that he’d get the hint and scoot a few inches backwards, taking his warm, sleepy heat with him. Instead, Adam let out a low whine and snaked his arms through the loop of Will’s elbow, circumventing his defenses.

“Look, Adam,” he sighed, trying to extricate his arm, “When we get to the house, definitely. But I need to stay awake right now if I’m going to drive us home.”

Adam reluctantly drew back, pulling into himself self-consciously. Will could tell he’d knocked Adam off-balance by the way he was desperately trying to center– lining his feet up on the floor so his ankles touched, interlocking his hands tightly in the middle of his lap. He was tired and probably overstimulated, and they would likely have to leave in the next few minutes if they wanted to avoid a shutdown. Will was not the only one who noticed.

“Adam, darling, come sit with me.”

Nigel’s voice had dropped, soft and soothing as he welcomed Adam over to his sofa with open arms. He shuffled over awkwardly, trying not to crowd up on Nigel like he clearly wanted to. Nigel had other plans. With strong, tanned hands, he scooped Adam up under the knees and swept him up onto his lap. Adam let out a gasp and a stunned little giggle as he gripped at Nigel’s collar for balance. It took a little bit of shuffling around, but they settled into a comfortable embrace– Adam sitting sideways, his head on Nigel’s shoulder and Nigel’s arms looped around his waist. From his new seat, Adam could see out the window, and spoke low into Nigel’s ear as he looked out at the clouds shifting through the night sky.

Will’s heart gave another desperate twitch. He wanted that too. He tried to school his features before turning back to his conversation with Hannibal, but he knew it was no use– his face was an open book. He met Hannibal’s eyes, raw and open, and saw something shift deep within the other man. He stood with his usual grace, and for a split-second Will panicked, thinking he had let too much slip, but instead he was beckoned into the other room.

“Come. I’ll make you a cup of coffee for the drive back.”

Will followed him dutifully into the kitchen, watched his muscles shift under his coat as he sifted through the cupboards for what was certain to be an unreasonably fancy coffee. If there were ever a time to push his luck, Will felt it must be now. He pushed himself up on the counter to sit, integrating himself into the very heart of Hannibal’s home. His heels smacked audibly against the cupboards as he settled, but Hannibal made no move to turn from the coffee maker.

“Cream? Sugar?”

“Just black.”

The silence as they waited was heavy, but not oppressive. It was almost comforting how aware he was of Hannibal’s presence, as if they were pressed together in his mind. Two become one. When Hannibal turned, cup in hand, Will began to appreciate his new vantage point. Those amber eyes looked up at his in something akin to reverence, gifting the travel mug upwards as an offering to his deity. The weight of it was crushing. It was liberating. It was dangerous. He took the mug in both hands, setting it off to the side behind him.

Hannibal stepped closer still, placed both of his hands on Will’s knees, and eased them apart– creating a place for himself in Will’s world as Will had in Hannibal’s. The hands slid upward, following the outline of his thighs, hips, up to his sides, and then he was falling, crashing, curling himself around Will’s middle and over his heart. Will’s hands moved of their own accord, drawing Hannibal closer, pinning him in place against his own chest. His eyes fell shut as he allowed himself to melt fully into the moment. Hannibal’s hair was soft and silky under his hands, and the rise and fall of Will’s chest was moving them both, boats caught up in the current of his breath.

Even as the moment ended, and Hannibal drew back to himself, the connection remained. Hannibal offered his arm to help Will off the counter, fingers lingering, brushing against each other as they went back to collect Adam from Nigel’s hold. The younger man was dozing, lips parted into a soft pout against Nigel’s collar. He stirred awake when Nigel stood, but when the floor was never put under him, he simply looped his arms tighter around Nigel’s neck and held on for the ride.

The night air was cool and crisp, and Will shivered as their group parted cleanly down the middle towards opposite sides of the car, Adam, ever his mirror, being lifted gently down into the passenger side of the car. Perhaps a mirror was the wrong turn of phrase. Mirrors were fragile things, too easily broken. Adam was his reflection, an image of himself, but perhaps one that he might reach out into. One that wouldn’t be kept separate, partitioned off in glass. No, he thought as Hannibal stole his hand, pressing a swift kiss to the knuckles, they could get there someday.