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It didn't take great deduction skills to figure out who the Chesapeake Ripper was. Will Graham was more surprised to find out the FBI didn't gather clues on their own than to finally realize Hannibal Lecter was behind the murders while talking and joking about them at the crime scene. Some of the jokes were borderline admitting to the crime, but with Price and Zeller on the team, Dr Lecter wasn't that bad out of place. And with his prim and proper attire, his polished looks, and well-spoken words, no one even dared to suspect him. Which crazy cannibalistic murderer would go to their own crime scenes in tow with the FBI after all? This one would, and it would be so easy for Will to bust him now. To gather evidence, make him slip up in any way or form.
But he wouldn't do it.
Not yet, at least. That's what he tells himself. He wouldn't blame Dr Lecter just yet, not before talking to him on his own. If he could just understand him, maybe there was another way out of this.
"What is wrong with you," he mumbled the words below his breath, shaking his head and pulling his scarf up further.
"Did you say something, Will? You look awfully pale. Maybe we should leave the scene, you've done all you could already. I could invite you for dinner-"
"Yeah, let's have dinner."
Both men were left shocked. Hannibal never expected Will to agree so quickly, so easily. He was used to excuses of why he couldn't come or just rude remarks about not wanting to spend time with his psychiatrist outside their sessions. 'I'm not your psychiatrist, Will. Not legally speaking.'
Will was dumbfounded at his eagerness as well. It was now or never. Maybe he wouldn't dare ask about the murders at another time. Maybe he would end up being the three-course meal now, but it was fine. If it was Hannibal Lecter going to kill and dine him, he would be okay with it.
"Crazy.. I'm crazy.."
"For speaking with yourself? We have all done so at one point in our lives, it doesn't make you crazy, Will. Let's go tell Jack we're off, come on."
Leaving was easy with Hannibal by his side. Jack never dared ask him, tell him, to stay longer. And since they arrived in the same car, it would be awfully rude to keep the doctor for longer when there was nothing they could help with anymore.
Just yet another Ripper kill with no evidence.
No evidence, just a bunch of Sweet Williams in a corpse, two weeks after Will had commented how he didn't particularly care for flowers, but those were ones he did like. It was a small inside joke from his childhood, because they shared a name, and his mother used to like flowers. Nothing he thought about often, but with Hannibal having a flower arrangement for each dinner, it came up eventually.
"Why did you do it?"
"Why did I do what, Will? I am no mind reader, you will have to use your words. Use them wisely."
But he didn't. They sat in silence for the rest of the car ride to the doctor's home.
Use them wisely, Hannibal had said. Did he know? Did he know that Will knows? Was this a hint for him to shut up, to stay quiet and not ask about it? Maybe it was a warning. Maybe it was Hannibal's form of saying he'd be spared if he just kept his mouth shut.
Will let moments pass, let them turn into minutes, into an hour, into two hours until they sat at the dining table.
Sweet Williams at the table. They almost glared at him. It made him snort.
"Is something not up to your taste, Will?" Hannibal's hand stilled, the cutlery moving back down to his plate, neatly placed against the ceramic as he waited for Will to speak.
"No, no, it's good. It's delicious. The meat is as great as always."
To prove a point, Will took a bite. Despite knowing what he was eating, despite always having had a suspicion and now having laid out proof, he still took the bite and sighed at how delicious it tasted. Was cannibalism truly so bad if it tasted like this? The man was no saint, the dead guy from earlier, if this was his flesh they were consuming. He was an abuser, from wife to kids, to the family dog. The man had it coming.
"Shut up.."
"I did not say anything, Will."
As he looked up, he saw Hannibal staring at him with a curious gaze. His lips were curled up into a sly smile as if he knew what was going on inside his head. As if he heard the thoughts that were screamed and echoed inside his skull.
"Not you, my.. my mind. It's loud in there today. Everyday. But especially today. The food is delicious, Dr Lecter."
"A man's greatest pleasure is in sharing food and secrets, Will. You should call me by my name, now that we do both, don't you think?"
And he went back to eating. Slow movements, carefully putting the bite into his mouth, chewing thoughtfully. Will watched the Adam's apple bob up and down as he swallowed. His eyes followed all of it, from the food eaten to the hand reaching for the glass of wine to clear his palate again.
"What- what do you mean? I'm not too sure I feel comfortable enough for this type of familiarity, Dr Lecter. You're still my psychiatrist.."
"Because the FBI needs reassurance that you're not going crazy. They pay me, you do not. We communicate with each other, you told me, you do not like to be psychoanalyzed, therefore I don't do so."
Will felt so small at the table. Hannibal sitting there in his three-piece suit, with his hair gelled back, his face perfectly shaved, his high cheekbones shimmering in the light from the big chandelier. He wanted to touch him.
"I-" his throat felt dry. Reaching for the wine, Will took a big gulp. He knew Hannibal was judging him, he probably stared with squinted eyes, in distaste, for not appreciating the however old wind from whichever country, but Will couldn't care less. "Do you know?"
It wasn't fear. He should be scared. He should be terrified, sitting at the table with a murderer who was currently holding a knife in his hand, cutting into the meat of some poor John Doe. Yet, all he could think about was how good Hannibal looked, how he had spent time cooking a meal he knew Will would enjoy. It was still out there, nothing Will would ever bother making himself, but it was less spectacular than his usual dinners, something almost warm and homey. And then there were the flowers.
"Sweet Williams. They're beautiful."
"You are."
It was silent again. Will felt his throat tighten, physically impossible to speak up. Hannibal on the other hand, didn't feel the need to speak. If Will wanted to know something, he had to ask the right questions. And then he would answer. Truthfully.
When their plates were finished, and the glasses empty, Hannibal stood up and got ready to clear the table. He didn't mind that the other didn't offer to help. Will looked frozen in place, with thousands of thoughts running through his head. He'd give him time to put them in order, give him time to come up with the right questions.
When he came back for the last time, the table was now empty except for the flower arrangement, he put one hand on Will's shoulder.
Finally, he looked up, uncertain and frightened.
"You're scared."
"Not of you."
"Not of me."
Hannibal offered one hand to help Will up and out of his chair, which he slowly took. Will's hand was calloused, it was shaking slightly, sweaty, and he winced thinking about Hannibal having to touch him like this. The man who had everything under control, who was meticulous in every detail of his life, now touching the sweaty hand of an anxious unstable man. But Hannibal didn't flinch, he didn't say anything, only held onto the fragile hand and moved with him towards the living room.
"Shall we have another drink? I can offer you some Whiskey if you prefer. I noted you liked a certain brand over the other. I got it stocked up, just in case."
"Just in case.."
The glasses and bottle were next to the chairs, on a small table, just waiting to be used. Hannibal studied the other man for a few more seconds before he moved and grabbed them, filling both glasses two fingers wide and offering one up.
"Sit down, Will."
It wasn't as much of a command as it sounded. He could have stayed put, could have not accepted the glass either, and just left. But despite every bone in his body screaming to go, to run, get to safety, Will sat down on the big leather chair.
Hannibal sat in the other one, and though it felt less like their therapy setup, it still had Will snorting. Would it kill Hannibal to get a comfortable couch, maybe one with the option to turn it into a bed? What a waste, with the fireplace right there. Many great nights could be spent there.
"You're him."
It was a poor attempt to shake his thoughts from 'a might with Hannibal Lecter in front of a fireplace, naked' to 'lets confront the psychopath about his murders.'
"Who am I, Will?"
"You're him. The Chesapeake Ripper."
Hannibal hummed, it wasn't so much a sound of approval as one of acknowledgment. He took a sip of his drink, licked along his lower lip, and stared at Will. He studied the anxious man, who looked even smaller in the leather chair.
"And you're not scared."
"I am not."
"Then what are you scared of, Will? What do you fear? What are you trying to run from?"
He didn't like being stared at like this, like Hannibal wanted to eat him. And not like he ate the fellow they had for dinner. No, this was beyond murderous intention. Hannibal was a starved animal, but looking at Will seemed to feed him, as much as it made him feel even more hungry.
"Myself."
Will knew what Hannibal felt because he felt it too. He had felt this hunger for a while, he was aching for the man. But he couldn't. He couldn't want him, he couldn't want to be with him. Hannibal was a man. Hannibal was a dangerous man. Dangerous, that was the keyword, he kept telling himself.
"You do not fear what I might do to you, Will?"
The doctor seemed genuinely curious, he also seemed like he wanted to evoke something. Bring out the worst of Will.
"I fear what you might not do, Dr. Lecter. That I learn to accept what I want, but find out you do not yearn for the same. I don't share your hunger, Hannibal... My hunger is for something entirely different."
The grip on Hannibal's glass got tighter as he tried to compose himself. He wanted to jump the man across from him, wanted to attack him, consume him. And not like his usual victims.
"You might not share my hunger yet, but you will. I believe in you. I've seen the potential in you, and look how far you came, Will. Look where you are now. Where we are now."
With his last word, Hannibal put his glass down on the small table next to him.
"If I say I share the hunger you feel, will you push me away, or will you let me consume you, Will?"
He stood up, taking three steps over to the younger man. Looking down at him, he seemed even smaller, sinking further into the chair.
"If I open myself up, and give you my all, will you still be at my side and not betray me?"
Hannibal leaned down, just enough to still loom over the other, but be closer to his beautiful face. His fingers reached out, first brushing a few strands of his long locks back, then resting against the roughly stubbled skin of his cheek.
"If I am honest with you, will you grant me the courtesy and return the honesty? I will give myself up to you, if only you want me to, Will. Give and take, but if you take from me without giving, I will have to end this, and I do not wish to kill you, Will. I'll let you see beneath my person suit, you may be the one who takes it off me. If only you want it. If only you accept it. If only I can trust you with my life, and you trust me with yours."
Will wasn't sure who was breathing harder. His ears were ringing from the spoken words, each feeling like a knife slicing along his skin, etching deeply into him. Hannibal wasn't doing much better. His chest was rising heavily, his eyes looked damp, and his perfectly gelled hair had a few loose strands hanging over his eyes.
He tried to come up with words, with promises, with excuses, but nothing felt good enough. Nothing felt like it could compare to what had been said. So he did the one thing he knew he could do, even if he didn't know how the action would be returned.
His arm reached out, grabbing at Hannibal's dress shirt and pulling him forward. It was a bit too rough, too fast and uncalculated, and when their lips met, so did their teeth. It hurt. But it was fine.
They were still for one second, no longer, before one of them moved. Neither was sure who took the next step, who opened their mouth, had a tongue lick against lips, and was invited in. Hannibal ended up on one knee in front of Will as their kiss got deeper, both of his hands holding onto him, one hand in his hair, fingers threaded through messy curls.
Will was holding onto Hannibal, grabbing at soft, expensive fabric, loosening and tugging at it. He wanted to feel him closer.
"Hannibal- wait-"
Just a second. All it took was a second of a pause and whispered words for the psychiatrist to pull back fully. His lips were slightly swollen, he looked like a mess. If one kiss was enough to make him look like this, Will wanted to see what else he was capable of doing.
"No, stay-" Quickly reaching out, Will held onto Hannibal's hand, thumb brushing over his fingers. They were slimmer than his own, softer, but had done so many more horrible things, caused so much damage.
"I wanted to give you an answer. A real one. With words."
Hannibal stayed silent, but his eyes told him to go on. He was listening. Maybe he was even scared of what was to come. Now that he's got a taste of Will Graham, he was even less willing to kill him. He couldn't.
"I will be truthful. I am scared of this, of us. Not because of who you are. I don't think I can support you in this, and I'm scared of what will happen if you ever get caught- no. Don't say anything."
The look he was given made him stop. Hannibal looked smug, then annoyed, he may have rolled his eyes. Hannibal Lecter does not get caught. If anything, he will give himself up, but he found no sane reason why he would ever do so.
"If, Hannibal. Not when. If you get caught, I do not think I could bear living without you. I can't give myself to you and then, one day, live without you because your insatiable hunger for longpig gets you into prison."
"You do not need to worry about this, Will. Live with me in the here and now, what happens tomorrow, we do not know. All we have is the present moment, and I want to share it with you."
"You can. We can. We can do this, I want this. Still, I cannot help but worry.."
"Will.." Hannibal brought Will's hand up to meet his lips, pressing a soft kiss to dry knuckles.
"I can promise you that you can trust me. If you couldn't, I wouldn't have come here. I would have told Jack, I could have told Alana. But I wanted to talk to you first. I wanted to understand. But I understand even less now, and I must be sick for thinking nothing is wrong with you.."
Hannibal sucked in a breath at those words.
"You're not sick. You do not need to eat my meals. I will not force you, not anymore. I can cook different meals for you, it is no bother."
"No, that's not it, Hannibal. I.. I enjoy it."
It was but a whisper. A heartbreaking realization. Swallowing hard, Will felt his eyes going damp, but he would not cry. This was nothing to cry about.
"And that is fine, Will. It's not easy to accept, but you do not need to shame yourself. Do not beat yourself up. We can ease you into it. You do not need to join my hunts, I will not put you in danger, and I will not force you to murder again."
Will looked up at those words, as if just hearing how sincere the words sounded wasn't enough. But the look in Hannibal's eyes sold the deal. He wouldn't be forced to do anything he didn't want. He was safe, for as safe as one could be with a serial killer.
He stood up quick, maybe too quick for the alcohol levels in him, and steadied himself against Hannibal's chest.
"You really want this..? You could just kill me right now. I'm the only one who knows, no one even suspects you. You could kill me, eat me. I'd be part of you, maybe in a better way than with me being alive. I'm not stable, nor am I a good partner... I've never been one."
"Will."
The younger's eyes drifted off as he rambled on, and only sound of his name being called had him come back. He looked at Hannibal and saw him smile as one arm snuck around his waist.
"Shut up."
And he was kissed again. This time it was Hannibal who took all the first steps. He also took the first steps up the stairs to his grand bedroom.
"We do not need to indulge in sexual activities. Not tonight. I won't force you. I would never force you into doing anything you're not ready for."
"I'm not a teenage girl, Hannibal."
"Yet you're worthy to be reminded of your consent. Come, let's lay down. I want to hold you close."
Hannibal was opening one button after the other as he spoke. A three-piece suit looked good but was painstakingly to take off. Especially after a long day, or when you had the prettiest man in front of you.
"Alright, alright. Don't mind me, getting undressed with my psychiatrist to cuddle in bed.." he muttered the words, more for himself as he got undressed. Pulling his shirt over his head, and his pants down his legs was a quick job. His socks were abandoned as well, leaving him only in an old pair of boxers. It was embarrassing, being reminded of their class difference even if both of them were half naked.
"I can hear you thinking, Will. Come to me."
Hannibal was down to his underwear as well. He quickly folded his clothes, not wanting them to wrinkle, before he led Will to his king-size bed. The covers were pulled back, and Will pushed onto the softest mattress he'd ever felt.
"It's really cool with you if we just..lay together? I've never been with a man, Hannibal. I don't think I can do this just yet."
"Will," he started as he got into bed as well, laying next to the other man and shifting closer. He pulled the covers over their bodies and wrapped one arm around Will's naked chest. The touch had him shudder. It was nowhere near sexual, but seeing Hannibal like this, feeling him so close, skin on skin, made him wonder if sex with a man would really be so different.
"We're both old enough to spend a night together without having to exchange all sorts of bodily fluids. I enjoy your presence. I enjoy your handsome face, being able to look at it as I fall asleep, and seeing it first when I wake up." And Hannibal meant it. There truly was nothing he could imagine that would be a greater enjoyment.
"Let us get used to one another. To trust that we will wake up the same way as we fell asleep. I wouldn't dare hurt you, so I hope you will also stay in bed throughout the night with me. Stay with me, Will."
"Where else would I go?"
Their third kiss could barely be counted as one. Lips against lips, but no pressure, just the feeling of being close to another.
"If I saw you every day, forever, Will, I would remember this time. Sleep well, my dear."
And Will did sleep well, for the first time in years. No nightmares, no night sweats, no excessive turning around. He dreamt of nothing, but he was warm, safe, and sound, despite being in the arms of a cold, dangerous man.
He too, would remember this day for the rest of his life.