Work Text:
Little!Will and the Easy Bake Oven
"What is it Randall?"
Hannibal is returning to his desk from walking his last patient to the exit.
"GRRRRRR."
Randall's growl is meant to alert his master that an intruder is lurking outside the door which leads to his home.
Then a white envelope is pushed under the door and Hannibal smiles.
"It's alright, Randall, it's just Will."
Randall shambles to the door, bone headgear rattling, and sniffs the small card.
Hannibal pats his pet's bony head and bends to pick-up the card. His heart feels a tug when he recognizes Will's scrawling, childish penmanship:
Daddy
Hannibal opens the envelope and pulls out a note.
TO: Daddy
FROM: Will
Please come to a party. I am making lots of treats with my Easy Bake Oven.
PLACE: Family Room
WHEN: Saturday, 3 o'clock.
RSVP: Will's room.
"This is a very nice invitation my little one has prepared."
Hannibal gives Randall one more pat on the head and goes to tell his boy that yes, he would love to attend his party.
----------------------------
Little Will has been working for hours.
HOURS.
It has actually been more like twenty minutes, but little Will has lost track of time.
He feels like he has been sequestered here, in the family room for a whole day already, slaving over his new Easy Bake Oven.
The first time little Will had pushed a baked cake through the oven's swinging metal door, he had felt disappointed.
Rather than the fluffy, level, cake shown on the mix's package, his cake was thinner and sloped-down on one side.
To add insult to injury, when he attempted to free it from its tiny pan it broke into three pieces.
Now little Will is standing with eyes swimming with tears of frustratation.
"There are no tears in cooking!" Mr. Bear reminds him and Will looks at him sadly.
He wipes his eyes, bravely arranges his jaunty chef hat, and places the cake's pieces back together.
Still, he is only a little boy, and little boys tend to whine when things don't go their way.
"But Mr. Bear! It doesn't look right!"
"It'll be fine, once you put the frosting and sprinkles on it!"
"Maybe it will be okay..." he concedes.
"Sure it will Pooh Bear!"
Sunny temperament restored, little Will smiles and gives Mr. Bear a 'thank you' hug.
He selects another mix; measuring out water with a wee measuring spoon and stirring the mixture with gusto. As he stirs, Will happily daydreams how his daddy will react when he first sees the bountiful feast Will is planning to serve.
"You did ALL this! All by yourself, little bear!?"
"Yes, daddy!" Little Will would giggle proudly.
Then Daddy Hannibal would walk around the beautifully set table, 'oohing' and 'awwing' at the delicious food, fine china, and paper flowers made by the chef himself.
"You created this feast AND made the flowers? I am very impressed! Never in all my days have I seen such a beautiful table...and I have been to Europe!"
Will hums with contentment and pours the second mix into a fresh pan, blissfully unaware he has once again forgotten to grease it ahead of time.
He shoves the pan through the sliding metal door and checks to make certain it's centered.
When he turns back to his work area his tummy feels a spurt of worry. He still has so many mixes left to make, and already, truth be told, he's feeling disillusioned with his Easy Bake Oven's 'pie in the sky' promises of perfectly formed treats.
He looks at Mr. Bear who stares back sympathetically, then sighs deeply and rips open the next mix marked 'soft pretzels.'
-------------------------
Two hours and sixteen mixes later, little Will looks like a Jackson Pollack painting; a very tired Jackson Pollack painting.
His work area, a large card table, is splattered with cake batter, frosting, and dusted with a fine assortment of dry mixes.
Streaks of chocolate frosting decorate little Will's checks, cementing together those curls he'd absentmindedly pushed off his face as he worked.
But at last..it's done.
He sighs with satisfaction, exhausted but happy.
Ranged in front of him are the fruits of his labors: four yellow layer cakes with chocolate frosting, three soft pretzels, eight hard-as-a-rock chocolate chip cookies, one wee bowl of Mac and cheese, and four multi-colored blobs meant to represent Red Velvet and Strawberry bars with candy heart decorations.
"Those were a little tricky," Will admits to himself, though none of the baked goods had turned out ANYTHING like their perfect brethren on the packages.
His biggest disappointment however, was discovering that the frosting mixes didn't produce enough icing to completely cover the cakes.
But it's too late to worry about that now...guests would be arriving in a few short hours.
Will takes off his chef hat, apron, and little pink chef clogs and goes to find his daddy.
"Daddeeee?"
"In here darling."
Hannibal has been in his study keeping out of his little one's way.
"Can I use the good dishes for my party?"
"What was that little bear?"
Will huffs and almost stamps his little bare foot in frustration; he's too tired for corrections, but the compunction to obey is strong.
"'May' I use the good dishes for my party?"
"No sweetheart, but you may use your little melamine plates and the Peter Rabbit tea set if you wish."
"All that good grammar...for nothing!"
Will feels affronted in more ways than one.
"This isn't a baby party!"
Will pouts and looks put-out; too bad the effect is ruined by his frosting-encrusted curls and face.
"Of course it isn't, but daddy's best things are very expensive. You may use our everyday china and glasses if you'd like. Will you be serving tea?"
Will flops exhausted onto the floor and tilts his heads back lost in contemplation.
Hannibal smiles. His little one looks so sweet; figuratively and literally.
"I don't know daddy... I'm too tired to think about that right now."
Will repeats one of Tío Frederick's favorite phrases and Hannibal laughs out loud.
"Sweet pea, you look as though you could use a wash and a nap."
Hannibal goes to the nearest bathroom and comes back with a damp, soapy cloth. Little Will allows his daddy to clean the worst of the frosting off his hands, face and hair, but has his own opinion about the rest of his proposal.
"No nap! I'm too busy!"
Little Will is a consummate nap-avoider, but daddy knows best.
"Maybe daddy could help you prepare for the party, and then you would have time for a quick rest with Mr. Bear on the sheepskin," Hannibal suggests, making certain he avoids the dreaded 'N' word.
Will shakes his little, curly mop.
"Noooo, daddy! I have to do all of it or it won't be a surprise!"
Overtired and keyed-up, Will is on the verge of tears.
"Rest time," daddy Hannibal orders and scoops his boy up and into his arms.
Will wriggles in protest as they walk to Hannibal's office, but his daddy can tell he's actually relieved to be forced into taking a break.
"Will never learns," Hannibal thinks as he places his little one next to the fireplace and retrieves a blanket and sheepskin.
From his own bed under the window, Randall looks on with interest.
"Now, here's Mr. Bear, and your blankie...would you like a bottle?"
Will looks torn; bottles are for babies, but both he and his daddy know how much he enjoys them.
"How about some nice warm milk with honey in it for my little bear?"
Will giggles and flips on his side so he is facing the fireplace, or as he likes to pretend, the entrance to his cave.
"Yes, please, daddy bear."
Hannibal drapes the blanket over his tired boy who is yawning and running his fingers through the thick nape of the sheepskin rug.
By the time he returns with the warm milk, little Will is nearly asleep so Hannibal settles down next to him and helps him with his bottle.
Will closes his eyes and sucks slowly. The milk is the perfect temperature, with just the right amount of honey; lavender this time.
He smiles around the nipple.
"'avender."
"That's right little bear. The bees made this honey using lavender pollen."
He sits and strokes his little one's hair until the sucking slows then stops; little Will is asleep.
Hannibal pulls the nipple from the pink lips, kissing them gently before rising.
"Watch over him Randall."
Randall chirrups a response.
"Good boy."
Hannibal leaves the office but keeps the door open.
He returns the bottle to the kitchen then out of curiosity walks to the family room.
He stands in its archway, contemplatively surveying the scene before him.
"Oh, dear."
Careful not to trod on drips and spills, Hannibal walks through the room, like a general threading his way amongst wounded soldiers on a battlefield.
Dry cake mix, covers one side of the leather couch. Whole sections of the Berber carpet have frosting mashed into its weave; Hannibal can see the impressions of little clog-shod feet. Dirty aluminum pans, bowls, spatulas, and whisks litter the surface of the table. Hannibal's eyes dart to the overflowing garbage can and his eyes narrow.
"Tsk,tsk.This room is a pig sty!"
Normally, Hannibal would insist his boy clean up his own mess, but under the circumstances, he decides to show him leniency.
"Just the one time," Hannibal promises himself as he goes to the pantry and returns with cleaning supplies.
Methodically, he moves through the room, scrubbing, vacuuming, and straightening.
"Clearly my little bear needed my supervision. But his heart was set on doing it all himself."
Hannibal shudders as he turns his attention to the assembled "treats": highly processed, chock-a-block full of additives, preservatives, and food dyes.
He casts a dubious glance at a minute bowl filled with a bright- orange glob.
Cautiously he leans down and takes a tentative sniff.
"Ahhhh," Hannibal's sensitive nostril's flair. "Some kind of artificial cheese food."
He consults his watch.
"Two more hours until Matty and Frederick arrive."
Hannibal leaves the clean room with a heavy heart. As much as he loves his little one, eating the 'food' he has just seen is going to take considerable strength of character.
---------------------------
"Daddeeeee!"
Hannibal is washing his hands when he hears his boy's panicked voice calling for him.
He goes to his office and sees an upset, sleep-tousled boy crouched in a miserable heap in front of the fireplace.
"What is it darling? That wasn't a very long rest."
"I had a bad dream daddy!"
Will runs to Hannibal and nestles into his chest.
"Oh, oh! What did my little cub dream?"
Hannibal takes a seat on his leather desk chair and pulls Will onto his lap.
"I had a dream that Randall snuck into the play room and ate all my treats!"
"What a shame that idea never occurred to me."
Hannibal's eyebrows rise and he looks speculatively at his young pet who growls knowingly in return.
Hannibal hugs his boy reassuringly.
"The treats are fine, little one."
Little Will jerks upright.
"Did you see them!?"
"I went to see if you needed help cleaning up."
"But they were supposed to be a surprise! "
Denied of his big reveal, Will's eyes are filling with tears.
"I didn't look at the treats," Hannibal lies," but I did go into the room only to discover that a little pig had broken-in and left behind the most terrible mess."
Will hunches his shoulders and settles back down. He knows better than to have left the room in such a state; little boy's have been spanked in this house for much less.
"Sowwy daddy," little Will apologizes, turning large blue eyes up to his daddy and pouting out his lower lip; to avoid a spanking, little Will is not above using every thing he has in his "cuteness" arsenal.
Hannibal smiles, but isn't going to allow his baby boy off so easily.
"What has daddy always told you about cooking, or any other messy activity?"
"That it's hard work?"
Will peers innocently up at his daddy through thick eyelashes and smiles sweetly.
Hannibal melts inside, but manages to stand firm.
"No. You and I agreed that when you cook, or do one of your little projects, you would clean up after yourself; either at the end, or as you go along. It is one of the rules listed on the refrigerator. Did you clean up after yourself?"
Will's rosebud lips pooch out.
"Nooooo, but..."
"No buts, sweetness. If you would like to use your little oven ever again, you must learn to clean up after yourself. Alright?"
Hannibal kisses his boy's face as he says this and keeps kissing him until Will's frown melts away and he begins to giggle and squirm.
"No 'kissing monster' daddy!"
"Alright."
Hannibal stops kissing Will then fixes him with a stern look.
"Give me your word of honor that you will do your best to follow daddy's rules."
"My word of honor!" Little Will promises, nodding his head up and down.
"Good boy."
As Hannibal smoothes his boy's curls he reflects how he never thought in his whole life, he would ever love anyone as much as he loves his Will.
Lecture over, little Will hops down from his daddy's lap and keeps hopping.
"Look daddy! I'm a Will-rabbit and I'm gonna hop all the way into the playroom!"
"I'll be right there sweetheart!"
---------------------------------------
"Those look good!"
Matty and his daddy have arrived and are currently enjoying aperitivos: apple juice for Matty, and a large vodka tonic for Frederick.
"Thanks! I worked really hard for twenty hours!"
"Will..."
Daddy has overheard his boy's fib and lays a warning hand on his little head.
Will shrugs and looks sheepish.
"Well, a bunch of hours! I did it all by myself!"
"Wow!"
Matty pretends to be impressed for the sake of his little friend, though back home he does all the cooking, including Cuban and Thai cuisines, two of his daddy Frederick's favorites. "Can we eat?!"
Will looks beseechingly at his daddy who smiles.
"You are the host, so if you say it's time to eat, then it's time to eat."
"TIME TO EAT!" Will bellows and Frederick nearly drops his glass.
"Quietly," Hannibal admonishes Will and Frederick mumbles something about "a good old fashioned spanking."
Will ignores the 'old fuss pot' and stands up straight, pretending to be a butler.
"Dinner ...is served."
"Oh brother," Frederick says and little Will gives him the stink eye; just for that, he's going to make sure Tío Frederick gets ALL the cold, gloopy, Mac and cheese.
Little Will giggles vindictively to himself.
"Please, take your seats...no daddy! You're next to me!"
Little Will breaks character for a moment to ensure that he isn't stuck sitting near his uncle for the meal.
"Young master you sit here. And sir, please sit there."
Once his guests are seated, little Will serves the first course: pretzels for Matty, Hannibal and himself, and Mac and cheese for his uncle.
"Thank you," everyone says politely and drapes their napkins over their laps.
"What, may I ask is this!?"
Frederick is using his fork to prod the unnaturally orange, gelatinous mound in front of him.
"That's Mac 'n cheese Tío Frederick! You get the whole thing for yourself!"
Little Will smiles charmingly and bats his eyelashes.
Frederick spears a tiny portion on his fork and takes a careful bite.
He quickly grabs his drink and takes a swig.
"Good, right?"
Frederick is about to say something snarky, when he feels a sharp pinch on his leg; Hannibal is issuing him a warning.
Frederick smiles wanly.
"Delicious."
Hannibal smirks and cuts a portion of pretzel, chewing it carefully; he can do this, it just a matter of mind over matter.
"Salted papier-mâché," he thinks is a fitting description for the morsel in his mouth.
Matty grabs his pretzel and eats it in two bites. He takes a long drink of apple juice and smiles at Will.
"Yum! Just like the ones in the mall!"
Hannibal and Frederick are more circumspect about their meal. They eat slowly, taking many breaks to converse and sample their drinks.
"Ready for the next course?"
"There's more?"
Frederick looks a little panicked and Matty stifles a laugh.
"Oh yes! Lots more!"
Little Will jumps up and presents the next course while Frederick breathes through his nose and swallows hard.
A conglomeration of pink and white blobs dotted with candy hearts is placed at each setting.
"Vanilla cake with strawberry filling and candy hearts," Will announces."Dig in!"
Both daddies are feeling a bit queasy by the time they have finished their second course.
"Next course!"
Will drops what appears to be decorative garden rocks onto new plates and serves them to his company.
"Chocolate chip cookies!" He crows and waits for each guest to consume at least one before eating one himself.
"A good host always takes care of his guests' first, right daddy?"
"That is correct sweet boy, thank you."
Frederick is certain a filling has just been jarred loose from his first cookie so he carefully palms and pockets the second.
Hannibal notices his sleight of hand and smiles wickedly as Frederick's stomach gurgles ominously. "Very nice Will."
"Thanks! Is everyone ready for cake?"
"Santa Maria," Frederick whispers and Hannibal's grin widens.
With a flourish, Will serves each guest with the pièce de résistance; individual two layer yellow cake with chocolate frosting, and rainbow sprinkles.
"Sorry it doesn't have frosting all the way around," he apologies.
"That's alright darling, it's perfect just the way it is."
Hannibal speaks calmly but there's a glimmer of desperation in his eye, normally absent.
"Yummy!" Matty enthuses as he and Will proceed to gobble up their cakes while discussing the latest episode of "Gravity Falls."
Frederick spears a large piece and places it into his mouth: gritty, dry, lumpy, and overly sweet.
The cake has an odd, "Eau de light bulb" flavor which isn't helping matters. Frederick is hoping to ease its passage with strong drink, but discovers only after the piece is already in his mouth that his glass is empty.
Valiantly, Frederick chokes down his mouthful without the assistance of alcohol.
Hannibal watches his friend with growing amusement as he finishes his own cake and carefully wipes his mouth.
"Problem Frederick?"
With supreme effort, Frederick manages to swallow the vile concoction but immediately knows something is wrong.
"I'm going to ...
Frederick bolts from his seat and quickly limps out of the room.
Matty laughs roguishly."He's gonna go barf! I knew it!"
"Manners, Matty!"
Hannibal admonishes his little guest.
Matty appears appropriately chastised though an impish smile continues to dance around his face.
"Why?" Little Will asks innocently, licking his fingers to capture the leftover sprinkles still on his plate.
"Please don't eat with your fingers, Will."
"But my fork is too big for sprinkles daddy and I don't wanna waste them!"
"You've had enough sprinkles. I'm going to go check on Tío Frederick."
Hannibal leaves the little boys chattering happily and goes in search of his friend. He is nearing the closest washroom when he hears the sounds of retching.
Hannibal makes a quick diversion to the kitchen and pours his friend a large glass of water. He turns from the sink to see Frederick, slumped against the door jam, his face a pasty white.
Hannibal hands the man the water and pours himself one.
"That...was..."
Frederick shudders and stops, taking small, careful sips from his glass.
Hannibal laughs and smacks his sometimes lover on his ass.
Frederick yelps and sloshes water all over his front. "Hey!"
Hannibal circles Frederick and stands behind him.
"You're all wet. Maybe you should go up to the guest room and take those clothes off. I'll meet you up there."
Frederick's face reddens then he groans as his stomach twinges violently.
" I feel like I'm going to vomit again."
At that moment, the boys run into the kitchen.
"How're ya doing pops?!" Matty says sassily and immediately notices his daddy's blossoming erection.
"Matty, your daddy isn't feeling very well. I'm going to make him a cup of ginger tea and put him to bed."
Will and Matty exchange horrified looks; to be put to bed so early is the worst punishment imaginable.
"What about Matty, daddy? Can he spend the night?"
"Yes, little bear, if he'd like to."
Matty nods enthusiastically, grateful for once that his daddy has such a finicky stomach.
"Can we have a bath Uncle Hannibal?"
Matty is the image of innocence, but Hannibal knows better.
"No baths together, but you may sleep in the same room."
Matty grins happily but Will has already moved on to bigger issues.
"Can we have popcorn, and make a fort, and watch movies?"
"Yes you may. But first, we must clean-up. You boys clear the dishes while I help Frederick upstairs."
"Okay!"
The boys tumble out of the room in their eagerness and Frederick moans at the noise.
"Aii, my head!"
Hannibal helps Frederick upstairs and places him on the bed, stripping him down to his underwear.
"I'm...."
Frederick limps to the bathroom and vomits.
While Frederick is otherwise engaged, Hannibal retrieves the baby monitor from his closet and goes into little Will's room to set it up.
"Matty has a tendency to get a little frisky with my boy when he sleeps over," he thinks as he checks the screen.
He returns to the guest room where Frederick has returned from the bathroom and collapsed, moaning, onto the bed.
"I will bring you your tea."
Hannibal knows the night is young, with every likelihood that Frederick will eventually feel well enough to indulge in some grown-up playtime.
He goes to his closet, pulls a box off the top shelf labeled, "Fredrick's Toys" and casually sets it on the foot of the bed.
Frederick opens one eye to peer at what's at his feet.
"Pick something for later," Hannibal instructs and leaves.
Frederick sits up and immediately feels another hot wave of bile rise. He scrambles off the bed and heads to the bathroom.
"Damn Easy Bake Oven! I'm never letting Matty have one! No matter how much he begs!"
It's going to be a long night, but if Hannibal has anything to do with it, it just might end up a pleasurable one.