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Will felt a little guilty when his phone buzzed. It was the 8th time in the last 10 minutes. He knew he shouldn’t be ignoring Hannibal, but he really didn’t want to go home.
Hannibal had promised no birthday party this year. Had sworn there wouldn’t be a repeat of last year’s debacle, when Will had come home on his 40th birthday to find the entire opera board in black tie toasting his happy day. He ended up trapped between a bore and a letch throughout dinner. Mr. More Money Than Sense had told Will all about the fascinating world of Swiss bank litigation while his trophy wife, Mrs. Handsy, kept sliding her bejeweled hand up his thigh.
In desperation, Will decided to personally clear out the liquor cabinet. Around the time Hannibal was bringing out dessert, Will wanted to show these opera hacks what real music was. He stood on the table belting I Go Walking After Midnight, much to the horror of the dinner crowd and the delight of Hannibal. When Will woke the next day, with a sandpaper tongue and eyes that didn’t seem to open properly, Hannibal was looking up mandolins online so that he could accompany Will for his next impromptu Patsy Cline concert.
This year was supposed to be different. He’d told Hannibal ahead of time that he didn’t want a party. All he wanted was to lay around all day in his boxers, sipping whiskey, playing with Gerhard, and making out with Hannibal. It was such a simple request, so beautiful in its design.
But leave it to Hannibal fucking Lecter to ignore Will’s wishes. The doctor had been secretly squirreling away to the store, making quiet phone calls in the study, and combing through online recipes. Will knew what it meant. It meant a fucking party, with bow ties, snooty opera people, and Mrs. Handsy and her grabby little fingers.
He wasn’t going to do it – not again.
So Will had told Hannibal he was going for a run. Four hours later, Will sighed. It was getting cold and he really wanted to come home. Maybe he should just check his messages.
Will rolled his eyes. He wondered how many of the guests were still alive. He should probably respond before they had to buy another freezer to take care of all the extra meat.
Sure, it was a manipulation, blatant and a little pathetic, but damn if it didn’t work. Will threw some money down on the table of the café and jogged toward home.
He slowed when he got to the driveway.
Where were the Bentleys, Jags, and Beamers? Had Hannibal sent them all home?
The man in question leaned against the doorjamb, a pinched little line between his brows. Hannibal was in his slate suit, hair combed but not gelled, and Will immediately regretted not being home earlier for the chance to peel that ensemble off the doctor with his teeth. Hannibal’s mouth twisted into an unhappy pout and Will decided to stop the fit before anyone got stabbed.
He bounded up the stairs, took Hannibal in his arms, and kissed the cannibal until he started making the little whimpering noises Will loved so.
“How about I say I’m sorry for acting like a shit and you let it go and forgive me because it’s my birthday?” Will asked, pressing kisses to Hannibal’s jaw.
“I suppose..” Hannibal kissed him. “Since it’s your birthday…”
Another kiss.
“Allowances can be made.”
Hannibal’s knee had found its way between Will’s legs and the empath groaned at the gentle friction it provided.
“Mmmm…” Will shoved Hannibal against the front door, banging it into the wall along with the doctor. “Can I unwrap my present now?”
“Woof!”
Will and Hannibal froze, both blinking at each other.
“Woof Woof!”
Hannibal sighed, looking over Will’s shoulder.
“Thank goodness, I thought you’d finally become one with the canines.”
Will smacked Hannibal’s shoulder and turned to smile at Gerhard. He was tottering toward Will on unsteady feet. The party hat which read party animal had fallen forward, obscuring his vision.
“Hello buddy, did you miss me?” Will fell to the floor to accept enthusiastic licks and tail wiggles. “Did that mean old man put this hat on you? Did he? Did he?”
“That mean old man had to comfort Gerhard when his father abandoned the family earlier this morning.”
Will rolled his eyes, gently taking the hat off of Gerhard’s head and placing it on his own. “Well I’m here now, and ready to party. Why don’t you show me what you’ve got?”
Hannibal lifted an eyebrow, walking into the dining room. Will scrambled up, Gerhard at his feet as he followed.
The dining room was laid out with an array of junk so magnificent, Will felt a tear come to his eye. A feast of nachos, boneless Buffalo wings, Frito pie, and corn dogs stretched before him. All homemade, of course, but the fact that Hannibal would lower his kitchen to create such fare was touching. In the corner was a case of Cheerwine and a bottle of Old Crow.
“It’s all grease and carbs,” Will whispered, turning to look at Hannibal in awe. He threw his arms around Hannibal, pressing his beaming smile into the doctor’s neck. “I love you so fucking much.”
“Yes, well, if the nachos are soggy it’s your own fault for being so petulant.”
Will kissed Hannibal, putting every ounce of joy he felt into the action. Eventually he broke away and clapped his hands together.
“Let’s eat!”
There was a box set of Lee Marvin movies with a bow on them sitting by Will’s place at the table, as well as three beautiful leather leashes. Will looked up with a smirk.
“A leash for each of us? Kinky, Dr. Lecter.”
“Actually, if you’ll direct your attention to the box in the corner-”
Will whirled around, a large striped box sat in the corner, lid askew. A sleeping puppy had its snout propped on the corner, snuffling gently. Will fell to his knees and crawled to the box, Gerhard joining him to inspect the new pack member.
“I can’t believe you got me a puppy,” Will whispered, gently stroking its soft white ears.
“A puppy?” Hannibal looked genuinely confused, stepping toward the box. “Where is…oh no.”
Hannibal tore through the house ducking in and out of doorways, clearly searching for something. Gerhard and Will raced after him, stumbling up the stairs trying to catch the cannibal.
Hannibal froze at their bedroom door, hand coming to his face as he stared inside. Will peered over his shoulder, still breathing heavily from the mad dash through the house. Gerhard sat obediently at Hannibal’s feet wagging his tail at the scene before them.
In the midst of the pristine hardwood floors of their bedroom was a large puppy, blithely tearing a pillow to shreds. His massive paws were covered in goose down, his wagging tail creating a feather tornado as he happily rended the Egyptian cotton sham.
“Will, this is Graham,” Hannibal said in his long-suffering tone. Will looked at the puppy and then back at the doctor.
“Graham?”
“He’s never where he’s supposed to be, he delights in destroying my fine things, and I can never quite predict him.”
Will smiled and bit his lip, nodding slightly. He pulled Hannibal into a slow, deep kiss.
“Graham it is, then.” Will melted a little as Hannibal embraced him, nuzzling into his curls. Resting his head on Hannibal’s chest, Will stroked the doctor’s hair. “You’re taking this very well.”
“I suppose I’ve become accustomed to such treatment,” Hannibal murmured into Will’s ear. “Also, it helps that he’s selected your pillow to ruin.”
“What? Graham, no!”
Hannibal laughed as Gerhard and Will moved to reprimand the newest member of the pack.