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It was a quiet afternoon, springtime bringing rain down on to Baltimore, and the door to the bedroom opened slowly and softly.
Will was fast asleep, only a silk sheet twined around his legs to preserve his modesty. It framed his round belly, skin glowing and rosy lips turned into a smile. Hannibal sat on the edge of the bed, running his hand over Will's belly and kissing Will's cheek.
He was beautiful, stark against the royal blue bedsheets with those dark curls spilling everywhere. He stirred, hand covering Hannibal's.
"Good morning, beloved," Hannibal said. Will sighed, running his fingers over Hannibal's cheek.
"Hello," Will said. "We have that thing tonight, don't we?"
"We don't have to go if you're feeling tired, darling," Hannibal said. Will sat up, placing his hand over his stomach. He kissed Hannibal's nose.
"I know you've wanted to go to this for ages," Will murmured. He twined his arms around Hannibal's neck. "I won't take that away from you."
"The very moment you feel tired, we'll go," Hannibal promised. "I won't risk anything happening to you or little Matthew."
"Overprotective," Will laughed, before getting up. "I probably should get ready, if we're going to dinner first."
"I wouldn't mind if you didn't," Hannibal purred, watching Will move. Will laughed again, disappearing into the closet to put on the outfit Hannibal had specially made.
"I still can't believe you had this made for me," Will said, pulling on the soft linen shirt that highlighted his pregnancy. Hannibal stood to get dressed as well.
"Only the best for you, darling," Hannibal purred. "Only the best."
-
The art gallery was full of murmurs.
Jewelry glittered against designer dresses, sharply cut suits matched expensive foreign watches. The name of the champagne was almost unpronounceable, the finger foods carefully crafted like an artisan made them. The art was paintings, done in an almost Rococo style, featuring rosy cheeked omegas in coy, sensual poses. Everyone was discussing how provocative they were, as if advertisements didn't put omegas in far more titillating poses all the time.
"It just looks like softcore pornography to me," Will whispered into Hannibal's ear, causing him to chuckle.
"What is that old saying?" Hannibal asked. "Everything is about sex, except for sex. Sex is about power."
Will ran his hand over his belly. "Then you must certainly be powerful."
"All the time," Hannibal murmured, resting his hand over Will's. "There's actually a painting I wanted to show you."
He gently led Will over to a large canvas, depicting a very pregnant male omega surrounded by a bunch of children and baby animals. A loose linen cloth was the only thing protecting his modesty. Will burst out laughing.
"I'm purchasing it," Hannibal declared. Will swatted at his arm.
"It's bad enough you have that Leda painting in the dining room," Will chided playfully. "Where would you put this one for maximum discomfort for our guests?"
Hannibal hummed, as if thinking, pressing his nose into Will's hair.
"Doctor Lecter!"
A hoard of Baltimore elite swooped down on them, and Will fixed on his shy homemaker smile. Hannibal's own mask dropped on as easily as anything, elegantly taking everything in stride.
"The happy couple come out of hiding!" someone, a beta Will did not recognize, said. "I'm surprised you newlyweds are out of bed."
Will blushed delicately, pressing his face into Hannibal's shoulder. Everyone tittered over Doctor Lecter's coy little omega, plump and round.
"You two are going to have the cutest little baby, mark my words," someone else said. "And the most polite one, too."
"Of course," Hannibal said smoothly. "Their dam is William."
He kissed the top of Will's hair, inciting more cooing over the baby and their marriage. The group moved on, the Lecters moving and flitting between the edges and the center. Finally Hannibal stopped before a bench.
"I'll get you some water," he said tenderly. "Rest your feet for a bit."
"Thank you," Will murmured, settling down. Hannibal swept into the crowd, the hard line of his shoulders cutting through it. Will rubbed his stomach, humming a little tune to soothe Matthew.
"One of the paintings came to life!"
Will looked up at a smiling alpha, grey swept into his shaggy hair. His clothes, while tailored to his long and thin frame, they were bright and almost ramshackle compared to everyone else's smooth elegance. A garishly patterned scarf was looped around his neck, and a flute of bubbly champagne was clenched firmly in his fist.
"The paintings don't have swollen ankles," Will coolly replied, eyes narrowing. The alpha laughed good-naturedly.
"Expectations versus reality, I'm afraid," the man said. "Antony Dimmond."
"William Lecter," Will replied. He peered out into the crowd, wondering where Hannibal was. Dimmond looked out too.
"Should I be worried about some overprotective mate coming to snap my neck?" Dimmond joked. Will smiled serenely.
"Depends on your intentions," he replied. Dimmond's smile widened.
"I've never been accused of having good intentions," Dimmond said with a shrug.
"Making friends without me, Will?"
Hannibal swooped in like a bird of prey, offering Will his arm to help him up. Will accepted it with a bit of a pout, but took the water much more graciously.
"He found me," Will hummed. "Mister Dimmond, this is my husband, Doctor Hannibal Lecter. Hannibal, this is Antony Dimmond."
"I can't hope to compete with a doctor, so there's no need to worry," Dimmond laughed, holding his hand out for Hannibal to shake. "Lovely to meet you."
"Likewise," Hannibal said. Will leaned against him, comforting and also in warning. "What do you do, Mister Dimmond?"
"I am a poet," Dimmond said confidently. "Really, this is my natural environment."
He gestured at the paintings. "Lots of skin hidden behind soft focus. Very scandalous to the sort of people that are my favorite people to scandalize."
"Art is meant to push boundaries," Hannibal said. "Of all kinds."
"You two do strike me as the kind to push boundaries of all kinds," Dimmond said with a grin. "I'd love to get you both an overpriced glass of champagne, but, well. Miracle of life and all that."
He gestured at Will's belly. Hannibal bristled, as if it were a slight against him.
"Indeed," he said. "Do you have a mate, Mister Dimmond?"
"No, could you imagine?" he laughed. "I'm a bit too stiff in my ways to be twisted into playing alpha breadwinner."
"The right person can make you twist," Hannibal said. He rubbed Will's back.
"I'm sure William could make people do all sorts of things for five minutes of his time," Dimmond said with a wink. "Lucky you two found each other."
"I am the luckiest man in the world," Hannibal agreed easily, then turned to Will. "Are you feeling tired, darling? You've been on your feet for a while."
Will smiled, seeing right through them. "You have to talk to the curator about buying that painting, remember?"
Hannibal made a considering noise. "You're right. I'm afraid we must leave you, Mister Dimmond."
Dimmond pressed his hand against his chest, as if a sharp pain had shot through his heart.
"How unfortunate," he said, and, with a flourish, presented Hannibal with a business card. "For when we can have that drink."
Hannibal took it, and with another fake smile, ushered Will away. When Dimmond was out of sight, he snatched the card from Hannibal.
"He was being quite rude," Hannibal offered. Will snorted.
"Not until the baby is at least two years old," he scolded. "You promised. Besides, he was look at the both of us."
Hannibal furrowed his brow. "Are you sure?"
"Honestly," Will sighed. "I think fatherhood has blinded your observational skills."
Hannibal narrowed his eyes, and Will tucked away the card in his inner pocket.
"We'll be fine, Hannibal," Will assured, bringing Hannibal's hand to his stomach. "All of us."