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"My mind has changed
My body's frame, but God I like it.
My hearts aflame,
My body's strained, but God I like it."
- Wolf Like Me, TV on the Radio
The open house for Matthew's elementary school was the absolute last thing Hannibal wanted to go to. Hannibal's interest in Matthew's school was this – it was the best in Baltimore, and Matthew was at the top of his class. The microscopic politics of volunteering and events were more the forte of his sweet William.
But his mate and his son were insisting, and Hannibal found it hard to deny them a single thing, so he put on a fine sweater and sports coat for a night amongst the inane. Will and Matthew complimented him perfectly, and Hannibal beamed as they loaded into the Bentley.
"Thank you for coming, Papa," Matthew said, as precise and proper as a five year old could say.
"Of course," Hannibal replied. Will gently squeezed his thigh.
He parked the Bentley and opened his door for his mate, hand on the small of Will's back and the other hold Matthew's little hand as they walked across the parking lot. Matthew's school was made of stone and ivy, full of Baltimore's wealthiest. Hannibal carefully masked his disgust – he knew intimately money did not buy class.
"Thank you for being a good sport," Will whispered into his ear. "I'll make it up to you."
Matthew proudly introduced them to his kindergarten teacher, a frail woman named Miss White.
"Matthew is immensely talented," Miss White praised. "He's progressing leaps and bounds."
"Education is very important in our family," Hannibal said. "I give Matthew personal language lessons myself."
While these people were mostly unimportant, Hannibal was still going to charm them, if only to curry little Matthew more favor. He could be shy like his dam, and while it was an attractive trait on Will, it would not do for his heir.
"You must be the infamous Doctor Lecter!"
A brief flicker of annoyance marred Will's features before smoothing back out into his usual sweet loveliness when he turned. A woman was there – omega, too thin. Pretty, but far outshone by Will.
"I am," Hannibal confirmed, pulling Will closer.
"Susan Nelson," she said. Her perfume was overwhelming, eyes roaming over Hannibal's tall, powerful form. "I'm the mother of Lou over there. Me and Will are on the PTA together."
"It's nice to meet you, Misses Nelson," Hannibal said. She smiled.
"You have such an intriguing accent," Susan said, eyelashes fluttering. "Where are you from?"
"Lithuania," Will answered flatly. "Matthew wants to show us his art project, so if you'd excuse us..."
Matthew guided them away from the staring Susan. Hannibal smirked.
"Rude," Hannibal murmured. Will huffed.
"You can eat me later," Will said flippantly.
Hannibal's night was looking up after all.
-
It was Will's first time hosting the parent volunteers.
The pale winter light filtered through the living room windows on to the artfully arranged cucumber sandwiches and delicate china teacups. The other parents praised the beautiful antiques and artwork.
"My husband is a collector," Will said. "He loves to be surrounded by beautiful things."
"What does your husband do?" one of the parents asked.
"He's a psychiatrist," Will replied, pouring out the tea into the cups.
"A real Renaissance man, huh?" Susan joked, and then sighed. "It must be nice..."
"Yes, well, we're not here to talk about my husband," Will said, casting Susan a suspicious glance. She had fine, fried blonde hair and an investment banker husband. Her son was always misbehaving, so unlike the perfectly mannered Matthew.
Will did not appreciate her gaze about his house.
Susan was the last to leave, lingering in the foyer.
"Could I have that sandwich recipe?" she asked. "They were delicious!"
"It's in French," Will said. "I can translate it and get it to you by next week, if that's alright with you."
"Oh," she said. "That's...that would be very kind of you."
Susan left, deflated. No doubt she wanted to peer even further into their home. Will closed and locked the door, before deciding he needed to clean the basement up a bit.
-
Hannibal's last Wednesday afternoon appointment was cancelled, leaving him with plenty of time to sort through his notes for the day and leave a bit early. He was expanding on his thoughts during the latest session with Miss Marcel, a kind but severely anxious young woman, when there was a knock on his door.
His practice did not accept walk-ins. Hannibal slipped a scalpel up his sleeve.
In his waiting room was Misses Nelson, squeezed into far too tight clothing and smelling strongly of pre-heat. The beginnings of Will's heat drove Hannibal to animalistic madness, but hers made him recoil in disgust.
"I only schedule appointments by phone or email," Hannibal said, crisp and professional. "No walk-ins, I'm afraid."
"You can make an exception for me?" she crooned, sickly sweet. "It's an emergency."
"This is extremely inappropriate, Misses Nelson," Hannibal said. "I'm happily married. I must ask you to leave."
She stomped her foot in agitation.
"What's he got that I don't?" she cried. "He's just some backwoods redneck who got lucky!"
"He's the one who understands me, deeply and intimately," Hannibal said. "He alights passion in me no other ever could. Once again, I must ask you to please leave."
Misses Nelson's eyes filled with tears, and she ran out the door. Hannibal entertained the thought of hiring a secretary again.
He told Will that night.
"I'm going to gut her," Will announced.
"There's not there to eat," Hannibal said. "She's skin and bones."
"Not a Ripper, then," Will said. "It's the principal of the matter."
"A Ripper, to throw off the scent," Hannibal argued.
"Either way, she'll know who you belong to," Will declared, and kissed Hannibal deeply.
Hannibal smiled into the kiss.
"We'll hunt together," Hannibal promised. "Destroy anyone who threatens our family and our marriage."
"Always," Will vowed back.
-
The hunt did not last long enough for savoring.
It was a Saturday, and Hannibal was cleaning up after afternoon tea. Matthew was at the kitchen table, quietly drawing, and Hannibal kept glancing up with warm fondness at his look of immense concentration. Will was picking up around the house.
The doorbell rang. Hannibal pulled out a knife and placed it on the counter.
"Go to your room and close the door," Hannibal ordered. "Do not come out until I tell you to, do you understand me, Matthew?"
"Yes, Papa," he said, standing up. "We're still going to the aquarium tomorrow?"
"Yes, if you listen to me," Hannibal said. Matthew left the kitchen for his room.
Will opened the door. Susan smiled at him.
"I'm just wondering about that recipe...?" she asked, peering into the spotless house.
"Oh, yes," Will drawled. "Just follow me into the kitchen."
Susan, and flushed when she saw Hannibal standing there.
"She just wants that cucumber sandwich recipe," Will explained. "I translated it for her."
"Ah," Hannibal hummed. Will flicked through the few drawers of neatly filed recipes on the side of the kitchen, and Susan followed close to him, back to Hannibal. She focused hard on the back of Will's neck.
Easily, Hannibal shoved his arms under Susan's; she was so thin he pinned her to him with barely any effort. Before she could scream out, Hannibal pressed his hand over her mouth.
"Hush," he scolded. "You'll disturb my son."
Gracefully, Will moved to the counter and grabbed the knife Hannibal had left for him.
"Normally, you'd be beneath our notice since there's no meat on you, but you've been so rude," Will hissed. "You shouldn't flirt with other people's husbands, Susan."
Susan's eyes widened with fear. Will raised the knife and dragged it across her throat. Red splattered across Will's pale face. Hannibal growled with arousal as the woman chocked and sputtered in his arms.
"Beautiful creature," Hannibal praised. Will smiled.
"You still have to help me bleach the floors," Will replied.