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Chapter Text

The crowd gathered around the black limo was screaming enthusiastically as Will Graham stepped out, holding the leash of Winston, the newly discovered canine movie star. They both posed proudly for the paparazzi, as fans were trying to reach out to them and shouting their words of praise and adoration.

“How has your life changed since Winston became a super star?” one of the reporters asked, while the cameraman was focusing on Winston.

“Well,” Will started while petting his dog, who was waving his tail happily. “I would like to say it hasn’t changed that much but-“

A loud ringtone and vibrating sound dragged Will Graham out of his dream. Not minding the unfamiliar phone ringtone, Will extended his hand and reached out to the end table and eventually managed to grab the phone, but not before accidentally knocking a few plastic glasses and used cutlery over, startling his dogs.  He took the phone, but noticed too late that he didn’t accept the call, the phone ringing loudly once more in his ear and making him finally wake up. He tried to speak, but his throat and mouth were dry and his voice cracked, resulting in a coughing fit.

“Sir?” the voice at the other end articulated while Will was struggling to breathe. “Sir, are you alright?”

With curious eyes and alerted that their master might be in danger, all seven dogs Will owned started barking while he got up from bed and stumbled to the kitchen sink, intending to drink some water.

At the other end of the phone, the man was listening to an incoherent mixture of dogs barking, coughing and a voice saying either “I’m fine” or “give wine” among various drinking and choking sounds.  After a few moments, the coughing stopped and the dogs barking became less and less loud, until it eventually stopped as well.

“Sorry,” Will said, still wheezing and trying to regulate his breathing. “That was hell of a cardio workout,” he told himself.

“I hope you will excuse me calling you so early,” the man apologized, deciding not to dwell on the peculiar way their conversation had started. “I’ve been informed you had solicited a special David Barrett croquet mallet. I’m happy to let you know that we have finally crafted it according to your request: a beautifully polished mallet weighing exactly 1320g, with a width of-“

“Hold on. Hold on a second,” Will interrupted the other, confused about his rambling. “I didn’t order any David Garret mallet.”

“Barrett, sir.”

“Whatever. There must some sort of mistake.”

“That’s impossible, sir. We are very careful with our Premium customers, and we always make sure-“

“Look, I don’t even play that – what do you call it? Croquet?”

“Yes, sir. Croquet. The way you utilize our products is covered under the privacy policy-“

“Jesus, do you people have nothing better to do on a Sunday morning?!”

He ended the call abruptly and threw himself on bed. Sunday was the only free day of the week for Will and he was usually spending it by sleeping until afternoon, walking his dogs and fishing until sunset. He closed his eyes and burrowed his face in the soft pillow, but as he was on the verge of falling asleep, the notification sound that he received a text message jerked him awake. Annoyed, he grabbed the phone and looked at the screen.

“God damn it! These people don’t give up so easily,” Will thought, both irritated and amused by the obviously confused man trying to sell his mallet. He almost threw the phone away, when he noticed the background image of the home screen – some kind of purple damask wallpaper, and then he remembered the unfamiliar standard ringtone and it all suddenly clicked.

“Oh shit!” he whispered to himself. “This is not my phone.”

He went through the contacts list, hoping to find the name and address of the owner, but to no avail. After browsing through the phone for a few more minutes, he quickly dressed up and headed to Beverly Katz’s apartment. Will was living in a small cabin near the boat yard, and the walk to the urban area of the town was quite a long one.

***

“Bev! C’mon, wake up!” Will yelled as he was knocking on Beverly’s door energetically. He knew his friend was a heavy sleeper so he had to be loud in order to wake her up at 9am on a Sunday morning. Eventually, she opened the door unenthusiastically and let him come inside.

“You won’t believe what a crazy morning I had,” Will started talking as he jumped on Beverly’s unmade bed. She sat down on a kitchen counter and rested her back against the wall, still half-asleep.

“Did you find another dog?” she asked unimpressed, knowing Will’s habit of picking up the strays.

“No, I would have been at home with my new dog if I did have one.”

Beverly laughed slightly, but she knew Will was serious about it. He would have been too busy introducing the new dog to the pack he already had if it were the case.

“So what’s up?”

“Remember that yacht party I told you about? I went there last night and-“

“YOU went to a yacht party?” Beverly asked unconvinced.

“Well, I didn’t exactly attend it. The yacht had some trouble and I got called to fix it,” Will explained.

“Oh, that’s better. Sounds more like you.”

“For the record, they invited me to stay for a drink,” Will pointed out. “Had to refuse because I was already tired. Anyway, I’m not sure how it happened but today I woke up with someone else’s phone instead of mine.”

“Sounds like you had a wild night, tiger,” Beverly teased.

“Beverly, this guy is crazy,” Will said, ignoring her.  “He sends texts in Latin. He has a ‘Virtual Theremin’ app installed. I didn’t even know this thing existed! His gallery is full of pics of drawings of naked men, sculptures, and food. I swear I’ve never seen anything like this before. Just look at this one.”

He pointed at the screen.

Beverly started laughing.

“That’s the creepiest chicken soup I’ve ever seen in my life.”

“But hold on, there’s even more.”

He showed her another picture.

“What the hell… Are those freaking snails? And a beetle?!”

“I know, right? I got a call in the morning from someone who wanted to let me know – well, wanted to let this guy know – that his croquet mallet was ready. Who the fuck orders custom made croquet mallets? He even texted me and sent me a pic.”

“Looks like you’ve got yourself a Mad Hatter, Alice.”

 “Joke all you want, but this guy is seriously freaky. On the way here I got a call from a woman who was pissed off because he apparently took her booze away, or so she believed. And let me tell you – for someone complaining they have no alcohol, she sounded pretty wasted already. And then a car dealer called to say he has the Bentley parts he asked for. This guy has a fucking Bentley, Bev.”

“Wait a minute. The man who threw the yacht party last night? I heard he’s in America’s top 1000 most wealthy people. He’s like a prince or count or something. Maybe it’s his phone you’ve got.”

“Shit. So a count has my phone?”

“Maybe. I know what you should do. You should ask for ransom.”

“Beverly, if he has money for Bentleys and yacht parties, he has more than enough to buy a new phone.”

“Damn it, you’re right.”

“I should call my number and meet him.”

“Maybe he’ll throw a party in your honor. Count Mad Hatter throwing a tea party in honor of local hero, Dog Man.”

“Local hero, my ass. What if he’s gonna be pissed?”

“It’s not your fault you got your phones mixed up. Come on, let’s call him.”

Will inserted the contact number of his phone and called, trying to ignore Beverly who was making funny faces in an attempt to make him laugh.

“Stop it!” he said under his breath, as the phone kept ringing. Eventually, it stopped and nobody answered.

“Looks like he’s busy,” Will said, somewhat disappointed. “Oh, for fuck’s sake! Mallet guy is texting me again.”

“It’s still early in the morning and it’s Sunday. You can try again later,” Beverly advised.

“Yeah, I guess. Can I make a coffee?”

“Knock yourself out. I’ll head to bed for a few more hours of sleep. Wake me up if Count Mad Hatter calls you,” she said, climbing back in bed and falling asleep almost instantly.

Will made himself coffee and turned the TV on.  As he was about to sit down in an armchair, he received a text message, the sound startling him and making him almost spill the hot coffee.

Chapter Text

Later the same day, half across the town, Hannibal Lecter was sitting on the balcony of his two-storey apartment, drinking a glass of red wine and browsing through the photo gallery of Will Graham’s phone. It was mostly full of dogs photos, occasionally fish too, and a few photos of the phone owner himself.

Although messy and untamed, there was a certain charm in the scruffiness of the young man that appealed to the much more elegant and sophisticated Hannibal. He was smiling at the thought of taking Will Graham under his wing and showing him the ways of the modern social elite, molding him into a man of culture and refinement.

That morning he woke up at 6:30am and followed his daily routine, not noticing that the phone he had was not his own. He arrived at the conference, took his designed seat and silence fell upon the large room. Until, out of nowhere, Will’s phone started ringing in Hannibal’s leather bag. At first, he ignored it, assuming it was someone else’s -- “Terribly rude,” he thought. It took him a few seconds to realized everyone’s gaze was turned to him because the loud and obnoxious “Who let the dogs out?” was actually coming from his bag. He apologized by gesturing a rushed head nod. By the time he reached his phone, the phone had already stopped ringing and it was only then when he realized the device was not in fact his, although identical in appearance. And so he had a brief conversation with Will Graham, the owner of the phone that was in his possession at that moment.

While he was sitting on the balcony, he decided to call him and let him know that he found a brief window in his always busy schedule to meet him and exchange the phones.

The phone ringed twice, and Will answered.

“Hello.”

His voice was softer and deeper than Hannibal had expected, which made him seem even more interesting.

“Will Graham? I’m Hannibal Lecter. It appears I have found a few free hours and I’m available to meet you.”

“Uhm… right now?”

“If that is convenient for you.”

“Not really.” Will sounded upset. He paused for a moment. “I have some errands to run. Maybe later this evening?”

“I’m afraid I only have free time until 4pm today. But we can always try to synchronize our schedules on a different day.”

“Yeah, sure.”

“Will? Is it fine for you if I call you ‘Will’?”

“It’s alright.”

“You sound distressed, Will. Is this related to this hapless confusion? If so, please allow me to assure you that there is nothing to worry about. I’m certain we will sort it out in no time.”

“No, not at all. It’s not that. It’s, uhm, one of my dogs. There’s something wrong with her and I’m at the vet right now. I guess you figured out by now that I’m a dog person.”

Will chuckled, and the sound of slight laughter made Hannibal smile.

“Yes, I did. One who takes responsibility for the fate of the others upon themselves – be it a human or animal companion – is only worth respect and admiration. I hope your dog will get well soon, Will.”

Will wasn’t sure what to answer for a few seconds. He was always taken aback by people who were so aggressively friendly towards him.

“That’s nice of you to say,” he finally answered.

“I will leave you alone for now. Please do feel free to keep me up to date with the news.”

“Thank you, Mr. Lecter.”

“You are most welcome. And please - I insist you call me Hannibal.”

“Thank you, Hannibal,” Will said and ended the phone call.

A victorious smile was spreading across Hannibal’s face. Will was clearly a good man with a big heart and he was eager to get to know him better.

After his first text conversation with Hannibal, Will woke Beverly up to show her.

“He sounds so pretentious,” she said.

“His name is Hannibal. What’d you expect? Are you sure he’s the one who threw the party last night?”

“Yep, Hannibal Lecter. That’s him. The filthy rich exotic count.”

“Exotic? Isn’t he American?”

“Don’t think so. He’s from Eastern Europe or something. Lemme Google him.”

Beverly opened her laptop, and after a few seconds the screen turned bright. She launched the browser and typed “Hannibal Lecter” into the search bar. She went to the images section.

“Holy shit…” she whispered under her breath.

“What? What’s wrong?” Will asked confused.

“What’s right, you mean. Look at this.”

She clicked on an image and enlarged it.

“So this is him?”

“Seems so. I always thought he was one of those old and slimy rich old men. But this guy… I must admit, he looks good.”

“If you say so…”

“Come on, just look at him!” Beverly pleaded, opening another photo.

“The man’s good-looking – you can’t deny it. And you know what? With a bit of luck, this guy could be your sugar daddy,” Beverly jested.

“Oh, shut the hell up,” Will answered annoyed.

When he arrived back at home, Will noticed that one of his dogs was acting strange. He rushed her to the vet and had the phone conversation with Hannibal.

He was anxiously pacing around the waiting room, when Beverly sent him a message. To his relief, she remembered to save her number on Hannibal’s phone.

Will Graham arrived back home with Shirley, after stopping at a pet shop to buy special food for pregnant dogs. He has always been very protective of his dogs, putting a lot of time and effort into their care. A pregnant dog was even more responsibility for him, and he was both frightened and excited at the same time. Beverly came over and they spent the rest of the day walking the dogs and playing with them together. In the evening, she left and Will poured himself a few drinks before going to bed.

After a few minutes of hesitation, he decided to text Hannibal Lecter and let him know everything is alright, hoping he wasn’t already sleeping. 

“Hey! I thought I should let you know that Shirley’s fine. Turns out she’s pregnant.”

The response came in unexpectedly fast.

Will drifted away before he could read Hannibal’s last message, with the lamp still turned on, tucked among several pillow and warm blankets, and snuggled up by his dogs. At the other side of the city, Hannibal was smiling to himself. 

Chapter Text

“I’m really looking forward to having this conversation,” Beverly said enthusiastically.

“Of course you do.”

“You know, I can actually hear your eyes rolling right now. Why are you whispering?”

“I told him I need to use the bathroom so we can talk, and he said he needs to use it too. But I know he just wanted to follow me because I can hear him sobbing and possibly rocking back and forth in the next stall right now.”

“Now that’s a whole new level of clingy. Who the hell is he?!”

“Remember that guy from yesterday? The one with his goddamned mallet? Today he called me again. I told him about the mix-up and that I’m not Lecter, and he broke down and started crying.”

“Just… just like that?”

“He’s pretty neurotic. He told me about how he was going to lose his job and that he will have nowhere to live. He’s single, his family basically disowned him and he has no friends. So I… Okay, I know you’ll tell me this was a bad idea, but…”

“I hope you’re not going to say what I think you’re going to say.”

“Yeah, well… I told him he can come over and stay here for a few days until he finds a place.”

“Why on earth why would do that, Will?!”

“The poor man, Beverly! He’s so lonely and sad, and I felt bad for treating him like I did yesterday. He was just trying to do his job.”

“So you’re taking responsibility for him losing his job now or what?”

“I kinda do, you know. It’s not his fault that his customer couldn’t take care of his damn phone.”

“Oh, Jesus… Looks like you’ve got yourself another stray.”

“That’s not nice, Bev.”

“Nor is living with a neurotic man you know absolutely nothing about, but you’ll figure that out soon enough.”

“In my defense, I know quite a lot about him. He followed me around at work the whole morning and told me everything about his life. His name is Franklyn, by the way.”

“Great. Just great. Anyway, I called you because Brian, Jimmy and I will go bowling after work today. You wanna come?”

“Sure, sounds fun. I have to go now. He’s screaming ‘Why do you hate me?!’ at the paper towels dispenser.”

“This goes straight to Top 5 strangest things you’ve ever done. And yes, we DO count that time when you got drunk at Jimmy’s party and then broke in a pet shelter and tried to steal all dogs.”

“Will you just let go of that memory?”

“Never.”

“Didn’t expect you to. I’ll catch up with you later.”

“See ya.”

After he ended the call, Will slowly dragged his palms across his face and sighted profoundly. When he got out of the bathroom stall, he saw Franklyn was sitting on the bathroom floor in a pile of paper towels.

“Oh boy…” Will told himself. “Let’s get you out of here before they make us pay for the towels you pounced on.”

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry…” Franklyn bawled. “I’m just so emotional these days. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“There’s nothing wrong with you, Franklyn. Let’s find something to do so you can take your mind off this.”

Will helped Franklyn get up and they both returned on the boat yard where Will was working. It was a cold and windy October day and the fact that Franklyn wet Will’s jacket with his crying wasn’t helping at all. Will had a boat engine to repair and while he was working on it, he explained the whole process to Franklyn, who was listening mesmerized by Will’s vast knowledge about cylinders and propellers. Will’s plan worked well because Franklyn stopped thinking about his problems for a while and just enjoyed watching Will work, with a child-like curiosity, and was happy to help when Will would ask to hand him various pieces, even though he was mixing them up most of the time. And Will enjoyed having company as well. He was always happy to talk with the others about the topics he was passionate about, but Brian, Jimmy and Beverly, his only close friends, weren’t especially eager to hear his stories about boats and engines.

“Tell me more about this Will Graham.”

“Unfortunately I don’t know more than what I have already told you,” Hannibal said while sitting on the edge of Bedelia’s bed and putting his shirt on.

“I would apologize for berating him yesterday, but I don’t actually feel any remorse. And also it was your fault.”

“I merely overlooked my smartphone for a moment. Who would have thought this might happen?”

“Was he one of the guests at the party?”

“I am not aware of any Will Graham being invited to my party.”

“But then again you were not aware your guests were leaving either, because you were too busy reciting Dante’s sonnets.”

“You know, Bedelia, you might have actually enjoyed the party weren’t for your intrusive questions scaring everyone away.”

“My intrusive questions don’t scare people away. It’s the truth they hold that does it.”

Hannibal smiled and leaned back to kiss Bedelia. After he left her place, he decided to call Will on his way back to the museum.

“Hello, Will! I hope I am not disturbing you from anything important,” he said joyously when Will answered.

“No, it’s okay. I’m at work right now, but I can talk.”

“Perfect! I was hoping we could meet later this evening.”

Will paused for a moment, and Hannibal felt compelled to continue talking.

“To exchange our smartphones, needless to say.”

“Oh yeah, of course. It’s just that I have plans for tonight with my friends.”

“Don’t worry about it – it’s perfectly understandable. I hope you will have a great night in the company of your friends.”

“Thank you, and uhm… Sorry for not replying to your last message last night. It was a tiring day and I just passed out.”

“Your sleep is very important, Will. Never apologize for taking the time to rest.”

“I’ll call you tomorrow – is that okay?”

“I would be very happy if you did call me at a time that is convenient for you.”

“Okay, great. Will do.”

“I’ll see you around, Will. One of these days.”

Chapter Text

Beverly was at work, running a fingerprints scan when Jimmy Price and Brian Zeller busted in loudly.

“Beverly Katz, you sly sly Vulpes Vulpes ,” said the first one.

“Your chance of getting that cool fake blood packs set just dropped by 11%,” Brian added.

“12% I’d say. That was really nasty, Bev.”

“What the hell is wrong with you guys?!”

“Why haven’t you told you us about Will and his new lover?” Brian inquired.

“Wait a minute there. You mean Lecter? I’m totally on board on this, but he’s not his lover.”

“Not yet…” Jimmy said teasingly, while gesturing a firing bow at Brian.

“The Cupid’s arrow is gonna hit him at full velocity right in the thorax, through the 4^th intercostal space, just below the rib and the next thing you know…”

“BAM! Massive oxytocin rush and Will is in love. No escape from that,” Jimmy completed.

“You guys are nuts,” Beverly chuckled. “And watch out, Zeller – if I don’t get my blood packs, you won’t receive your kidney models.”

“The ones with kidney stones?”

“AND urinary stones. Live sized, natural colors, fully detachable.”

“Aw come on, Bev! That’s just mean,” Brian complained.

“You keep your word, and I keep mine. How did you find out about Lecter?”

“Just earlier today I sent Will a dog butt pic, like I always do,” Brian explained. “But he kept on rambling about how he’s not Will Graham. I thought he slipped on dog feces or something and hit his head.”

“Statistics show slipping and tripping to be the single most common cause of major injury in workplaces and they are often the initiators of accidents attributed to other causes, such as some machinery accidents, scalding and falls from height,” Jimmy stepped in while Brian was nodding in agreement.

“Right. So Jimmy and I called him and this dude with a heavy Count Dracula accent answered. Needless to say, we were thrown off guard.”

“And rightfully so,” Jimmy completed.

“So what did you do?”

“Well… we kind of freaked out and ended the called. Then, after intense deliberation, we concluded that he might be telling the truth, so we called him back and apologized.”

“For the dog butt pic I sent too.”

 “And for calling him a bloodthirsty bastard.”

“You called him a bloodthirsty bastard?” Beverly asked bewildered.

“We might have gotten a liiittle bit ahead for ourselves,” Jimmy admitted.

“Guys, don’t screw this up. They haven’t talked a lot, but Lecter has been nice to Will and seems interested in him. Let’s give them some space.”

“Beverly Katz, I honestly feel so offended right now,” Jimmy said in an overly dramatic tone. “Are you implying that Brian or I have a problem with discretion?”

“Are you kidding me?” Beverly puffed. “It’s like the fourth law of thermodynamics: Jimmy Price and Brian Zeller are two huge dorks who can’t keep their mouths shut and always mess things up, especially Will Graham’s chances of a love life.”

“This is so wrong that I don’t even know where to start from,” Brian opposed.

“How about you two get back to work and let me finish this scan before the big boss gets pissed off again?”

“Fine. But just so you know, I heard  a corpse with missing fingers just came in and we are not going to share the case with you.”

“Theft,” Beverly asserted unimpressed.

“Come again?”

“It was a theft, initially. The victim opposed and the attacker killed them by accident. Tried to take the rings before leaving, but the victim’s fingers were probably swollen or something. So the attacker – the murderer – must have panicked, cut their fingers off and ran away. It’s a classic actually, isn’t it?”

“Screw you, Bev,” Jimmy said bitterly, making a grimace of disgust as he turned around to extend his arm for Brian, and they both walked off arm-in-arm.

“Love you too, you jerks!” Beverly shouted after them and returned back to work, smiling at her friends’ childish behavior.

“Oh my god… Oh gosh… I’m so sorry,” Franklyn whimpered, as Will brought him a blanket and hot cup of tea.

“It’s okay, Franklyn. It wasn’t your fault,” Will assured him. “As a general rule, don’t bring food out near water.”

“They came out of nowhere. I couldn’t even fight back. They gave me no chance at all.”

“Seagulls can be really mean birds,” Will said, patting Franklyn’s shoulder while his dogs were watching the sobbing man with curiosity. “I have to go back to work now, but I’ll be done soon. You should stay here and relax. You’ve had a long day.”

Franklyn went silent as he was watching the hot stream swirling around out of his cup, and Will paced towards the door to leave.

“Will?” Franklyn called out shyly.

“Yes?”

He paused again for a moment, fumbling the tea cup in his hands and trying to find his words.

“I just wanted, I just wanted to thank you, Will. You’re a good man.”

Will smiled fondly and nodded his head.

“You too, Franklyn.”

“…and then I told him ‘You make my anoxic sediments want to increase their redox potential’,” Jimmy said excitedly as he and Brian burst out laughing. They were tipsy and in a good mood, sitting next to each other at the table they would always take in a secluded corner of the bowling center, and occasionally placing pecks on each other’s cheeks. Beverly was sitting across them, bored, eating French fries, and not actually paying attention to their stories. She was about to excuse herself to the bathroom again – not that Brian and Jimmy would have noticed her absence anyway – when she saw Will and Franklyn finally walking through the door. Will waved enthusiastically as they approached.

“Thank god you’re here!” Beverly shouted with relief. “They were talking about how they met again and after the last time, I’m totally not prepared to hear this story again.”

Will laughed and hugged her.

“Oh hey, Will!” Brian said, raising a hand as a salute.

“…and hey there, mysterious companion of Will’s,” Jimmy continued as they both noticed Franklyn.

“Alright, so… Franklyn, these are Beverly, Jimmy, and Brian, my best friends. Guys, this is Franklyn, my new roommate.”

“So you’ve got a roommate now,” Brian said. “That’s interesting because if I remember correctly, Will, you refused to live with us when we asked you to.”

“Yeah, Will,” Jimmy added with an accusing tone. “What happened to William I-prefer-to-live-alone-with-my-dogs Graham, hmm?”

“Stop it, guys,” Beverly interfered. “You keep cow eyeballs in the fridge and make rabbit-skin glue in the bathroom. Who the hell do you imagine would want to live with you two?”

“Someone who can handle our intellect and keep up with our ever-growing cluster of hobbies and interests,” Jimmy answered proudly, and then turned to kiss his partner affectionately.

Before starting playing bowling, Will and Franklyn served them the apple pie, which was still hot, and they all sat down at the table – Beverly, Will, and Franklyn squeezed on one side, and Brian and Jimmy occupying all space on the other – and took the time to enjoy thoroughly.

“So YOU made this?” Brian asked unconvinced.

“Yeah, yeah I did,” Franklyn answered, uncomfortable with the new company, and unsure if they would like him.

“My god!” Jimmy exclaimed. “This pie is simply amazing!”

Brian, Will and Beverly all agreed.

“I’m sure you guys will get along well with Franklyn,” Will said. “He’s a good guy.” He tapped him on the back friendly, and Franklyn giggled like a little child receiving praise from the adults.

After finishing the pie, they all ordered a beer each and started playing bowling. An upbeat rock song was playing on the speakers, and Will was glad Franklyn could relax for a while and that Brian and Jimmy gave up playing their hostility game and accepted Franklyn. They were always playing as a team of two - rather showing off their complex and ridiculous moves than playing - while Beverly was competing against Will and most of the times winning. It turned out Franklyn was actually a good bowling player, and after an hour and a half he was leading with a top score. 

Beverly and Will returned to their table and ordered what was their third – maybe fourth? – beer that night. They watched the three others play from the distance and laughed copiously when Jimmy spun around a little bit too much and fell on his bottom, dragging Brian down with him, and Franklyn having to help them both get up, as he was the only sober one from the group. Beverly and Will weren’t as drunk as Jimmy and Brian yet, just tipsy.

“It’s really good to see the boys being friendly to Franklyn,” Will said melancholically.

“Yeah, they can be real sweethearts once you peel off their layers of sarcasm and cockiness.”

“Hell, we sound like their parents!”

“We really do, don’t we?”

They both laughed lightheartedly.

“Maybe you should become a rehabilitation counselor or something.”

“You know, that’s not even a bad idea,” Will said after a few seconds of thinking.

Shortly afterwards Will went silent and Beverly noticed the good mood draining away from his alcohol-flushed pink face.

“Oh no,” she said. “I know that look in your eyes. You’re thinking about something sad, aren’t you?”

“No, it’s fine,” he lied.

“Come on, Will, don’t give me that. I’m not gonna beg you to follow the standards procedures of our friendship.”

Will’s lips corners curved into a small smile for a moment, and then he became serious again.

“Franklyn’s story made me think about my childhood,” he started speaking after a pause, avoiding Beverly’s eyes. “I know what it’s like to be alone and broken, always the odd one out. The weird kid nobody wants to hang around. The one that nobody knows if they can trust. And even though I haven’t known Franklyn for a long time, I feel like he deserves better than that.”

“We all do,” Beverly commented. “Including you. You have friends now, Will. You have me and Brian and Jimmy. We’re not gonna leave or abandon you, and if you’re still not convinced of that I’ll keep reminding you. We’re family.”

Beverly put her arm around Will and rested her head on this shoulder.

“And now you have Franklyn too,” she added, making Will chuckle. “And the dogs, and soon Shirley’s puppies too.”

“We’re one big weird family, aren’t we?”

“Not weirder than Brian’s relatives. They have an annual scarecrow-building festival.”

Will started laughing out loud and Beverly retracted his arm from around him.

“I’m not kidding!” she declared. “They have some really strange habits. No wonder Brian came out like this.”

He kissed the top of her head and hugged her warmly. Beverly always knew what was wrong with Will and how to fix it. She knew when to talk and when to shut up, when to encourage and when to scold him. She was Will’s safety net, always ready to catch him. 

A few meters away from them, Brian and Jimmy, in their merry intoxication, came up with a mischievously plan to pose as Will and text Hannibal Lecter from his phone. They crowded Franklyn between them and started whispering.

“In the past few months, 43 out of 50 times, Will took his phone out of his pocket and put it on the table when we were out,” Jimmy said. “We counted it.”

“Statistically speaking, this means there is an 86% chance that he will do the same tonight. Unless, of course, your presence here is a perturbative element.”

“Now you don’t want to be a perturbative element in this perfectly balanced group of friends, do you, Franklyn?”

“No, no, of course not!” Franklyn quickly assured.

“Good. Then we proceed as planned: you distract them, we sneak the phone from the table, and then we meet in the gents’ bathroom. Understood?”

“Yes, I understood, but what if Will gets mad at me? If he throws me out, I will have to live on the streets.”

Franklyn was starting to get anxious again.

“Oh please!” Brian exclaimed. “He’s not gonna be mad. You can always stay with us if he kicks you out.”

A few moments later, Franklyn was screaming on the floor, rolling from one side to the other, and holding his knee to his chest. Alarmed, Beverly and Will got up from their table and rushed to him, together with a few member of the staff and other people who were there that night. While everyone was gathered around the supposedly injured Franklyn and distracted by his maddening screeches, Jimmy and Brian walked up to their table and grabbed the phone that – as predicted – was lying there unsupervised.

“Damn, that’s some A+ acting,” Brian whispered to Jimmy as they both entered the bathroom.

“Franklyn, talk to me,” Will asked. “Please stop crying and tell me what’s wrong.”

After he saw Jimmy and Brian entering the bathroom with the phone, Franklyn calmed down and invented an excuse about a terribly painful cramp, and that he was fine and could walk again. He rushed to the bathroom, leaving everyone confused and some of them even unimpressed with the show that ended so quickly.

Jimmy and Brian were sitting at the table, with Franklyn between them, all looking down and listening to Beverly’s scolding without saying a word. Will and Beverly were sitting opposed of them.

“You really had to go and ruin the night, didn’t you?” Beverly asked, irritated. “Honestly I’m not even surprised. I knew all too well that you were capable of something like this, but I really hoped you could behave like relatively normal humans for one damn night.”

Will was holding his face in his palms, with elbows on the table. Jimmy, Brian and Franklyn continued to remain silent.

“And you dragged Franklyn in this too.”

“No, Beverly. Please, don’t,” Will interfered. “Franklyn is not a victim, and he certainly isn’t innocent, so don’t take his part.”

Franklyn was on the verge of crying, and Jimmy and Brian looked like they sobered up after their plan was busted.  

“Will, did you hear me?” Beverly asked, slightly shaking Will by his shoulder.

“Sorry, did you say something?” he answered, confused.

“I asked about Lecter. Did he answer?”

“Yeah. Yeah, he did. You’re lucky this time because he’s such a patient person and didn’t get mad,” he continued, addressing the three men in front of him. “But there will be no second time. This won’t ever happen again. Are we clear?”

They all nodded that they understood and agreed. After the tension among them dissipated, they ordered hotdogs and another round of beers.

It was raining outside and the wind was blowing, smashing rain drops, tree branches, and leaves against the large windows. Inside it was warm, and the atmosphere was comfortable and intimate, with dim and orange lights, air filled with smoke, fast food smell, joyous people’s laughter and beer bottle caps popping sounds. Will was sitting in the corner at the table, with his back leaning against the junction between two walls. His stomach was full, and he was about to finish his fourth, or maybe fifth, or sixth, – who was counting anyway? – beer that night. He felt happy and secure – and this time downright drunk – in the company of his friends, while texting Hannibal Lecter.

The wind and rain were cold, almost freezing, but Will was feeling warm on the inside – a combination of alcohol and happiness. He was smiling, imagining Hannibal Lecter, the esteemed museum curator and member of the high society, strolling around halls with sumptuous architecture while his phone – Will’s phone – was playing that silly old song that Will loved so much.

They all left the bowling center. Will and Franklyn said goodbye to Beverly, Brian, and Jimmy whose homes were in the opposite direction. They were talking fast through the rain, side by side, and Franklyn was telling some story about his job at the croquet mallets manufacturer, but Will’s mind was too fuzzy, too misty to be able to focus. He kept thinking about Hannibal Lecter and the fact that he was interested in learning about boat engines from him. He kept thinking about the fact that he showed interested in his dogs. He kept thinking about his patience and politeness and discretion. He kept thinking that not one moment felt awkward while talking with him and texting him. He kept thinking.

Will took a hot shower first, and then Franklyn followed. He was sitting in bed, with his back against the wall. The only light was coming from the bed lamp, and the dogs were all snuggled around Will, just like every night. But that night Will felt especially cozy – still dizzy, but comfortable and sheltered, as if nothing bad could happen anymore. He called Hannibal Lecter, and the man answered quickly, almost instantly.

“So… you’d like to learn about boat engines,” Will started.

“It can never hurt to learn something new. You never know when the knowledge might prove to be useful.”

“That’s true. I’d love to teach you a thing or two about this topic when… when we meet. Not gonna brag, but I’m quite good at this.”

Hannibal laughed slightly and Will accompanied him.

“I’m sure you are, otherwise you wouldn’t have been called to my party. Speaking of which, I never got the chance to properly thank you for the work you’ve done.”

“Ah, it’s nothing! Just doing my job, you know.”

“But you’ve done it promptly and quite effectively too, and that’s worth appreciation.”

Will paused for a moment. Again, he wasn’t sure what to say. He was petting Buster, who climbed on his lap, and trying to remember the last time someone thanked him for doing his job on the boat yard. He couldn’t recall.

“I’ve been working here for a while, but… but I can’t remember anyone thanking me before. I mean, I’m just a mechanic, but-“

“Will, please listen to me carefully,” Hannibal interrupted him. “There is nothing ‘just’ about being a boat yard mechanic. Your job does not define or limit in any way what you are or what you could be.”

“Thank you. Thank you, Hannibal. I really mean it.”

“It pains me to see a person so well-behaved and sharp-witted such as you, Will, thinking lowly of themselves.”

“It’s an old habit,” Will said, sighting.

“I would gladly help you break it, if you allowed me to.”

Will was smiling again, and though he couldn’t see it, somehow he knew Hannibal was smiling too at the other end. Hannibal continued talking.

“I can’t help but wonder if your friends’ mischief from earlier tonight held any truth at all. I’m saying this because – and I hope you will not interpret this as rude– I find that you are a very physically attractive man, and I’m also convinced that your mind works in incredibly interesting ways. “

In that moment, Will was glad that it was only a phone conversation and not a face-to-face one, because Hannibal would have seen him blushing and oh, how he wished he didn’t.

“You’re not too bad yourself,” he finally said after a few tense seconds, laughing nervously, and then immediately slapped his own forehead. It came out way worse than it had sounded in his head.

But Hannibal laughed too and, like always, it helped Will relax. There was something in that stranger’s laugher that was quickly becoming familiar for Will, almost soothing. Hannibal was always self-composed, without being cold, while Will was just a nervous wreck – or so he thought, because Hannibal would have clearly disagreed.  

 “It’s getting late and I should, I should go now,” Will said.

“It is quite late indeed. Shall I still expect the promised call from you tomorrow?”

“I do keep my promises.”

“I never imagined otherwise. Goodbye, Will!”

“See you.”

Will put the phone on the nightstand after ending the call, and turned off the lamp. He still had a big grin on his face when he turned in bed on the other side, but it quickly disappeared and turned into a scream of terror. Franklyn was lying in Will’s bed, holding his pillow, cuddled up in the pile of sleeping dogs.

“Franklyn, what in god’s name do you think you’re doing?! You scared the shit out of me.”

“I’m sorry – I never meant to. It’s just that I felt so lonely on the sofa. You know, I get nightmares all the time and I thought you wouldn’t mind if I slept here with you and the dogs.”

“Just… don’t drool on my pillow, okay?”

Will shifted in bed again and noticed the screen of the phone lightening up – a text message from Hannibal.   

He listened to the sound of rain hitting on the roof and windows, and fell asleep thinking about his weird big family and how lucky he was to have them.

Chapter Text

 I guess it's half timing

And the other half's luck

Wherever you are

Whenever it's right

You come out of nowhere and into my life

Will was in his workshop, fixing an engine with a coffee thermos next to him, when Franklyn knocked on the door with hesitation and entered.

“Well? What do you think?” he asked, extending his arms and doing a clumsy pirouette.

“Wow…”

“Is that a good wow or a bad wow?”

“It’s a… you-might-have-missed-the-whole-point wow,” Will answered.

Franklyn was wearing a black tuxedo, complemented with shiny shoes and a blue paisley bowtie.

“But why?” Franklyn cried out. “What’s wrong?”

“Franklyn, you’re going to look for a job, not to have dinner with the queen.”

“I just want to make a good first impression.”

“You don’t have to try so hard. I can’t leave work now, but you should go back and change in something more casual.”

Feeling disappointed that his outfit choice wasn’t appreciated, Franklyn left, but as he was passing through the door, he stopped and turned around.

“What exactly would be more casual?”

“I don’t know, Franklyn. You’ll figure something out,” Will answered, being distracted.

***

After the unsuccessful advice session with Jimmy and Brian, Franklyn decided to call Beverly too, even though he wasn’t sure if she had forgiven him after their escapade from the previous evening.

“Hey, Beverly! This is Franklyn.”

“I’ve figured. What’s up?”

“I’ll go to look for a job, but I don’t know what to wear. Will told me to try something casual. I asked Jimmy and Brian for help and they weren’t very useful, so now I’m asking you. What’s casual?”

“I can hear them talking about jockstraps so I imagine how that conversation went. Right now I have my hands full – quite literally, so I can’t help you. Ask yourself WWWW and go with that.”

“I’m sorry – what?”

“What would Will wear?”

“Oh… I see. Thanks, I guess.”

“Anytime.”

Even more confused and with the “What would Will wear?” question in mind, Franklyn started to go through his clothes, and finally came up with a satisfying outfit: khaki pants, a blue plaid shirt, and olive green jacket. He then went back to Will’s workshop in order to show him the new outfit he had chosen.

“Perfect!” Will exclaimed enthusiastic, as his attire was extremely similar, almost identical.

***

***

After finishing work, Will went back home to find Franklyn curled up on bed and crying.

“Oh my god, Franklyn, what’s wrong?” he asked cornered.

Franklyn tried to speak, but no actual words came out and Will waited patiently until he calmed down and was able to communicate. It turned out Franklyn had an unsuccessful day job-hunting, and was feeling guilty that Will had to provide for him.

“We talked about this before,” Will said compassionately. “You’ll eventually get a job. Until then, I don’t mind the company. It surely gets lonely over here when you’re living in the middle of nowhere. Plus friends aren’t big on visiting when you have seven dogs.”

Franklyn chuckled between two sobs and eventually agreed to get off bed, promising to take his shoes off the next time.

“Beverly and I will go out now. Do you want us to drop you off at Jimmy and Brian’s?”

***

It was raining again – a heavy and lazy rain, with the occasional growl of thunders tumbling around in the distant layer of gray clouds from above. The windscreen wipers were working continuously, making their monotonous sound of moving left and right.

Beverly was focused on driving, leaning forwards and struggling to see something behind the wet and blurry windscreen, cursing under her breath every now and then. Franklyn was sitting on the backseat, trying to complete a crumpled page of crosswords he had found between Beverly’s car seats, except he had no pencil, so his mental effort of memorizing the letters in all right places was mostly futile.

Will was on the passenger’s seat, looking out through the window – or rather looking at the raindrops on glass and making bets with himself on which one would reach the bottom first. It was a mindless activity that helped him relax.

He wasn’t feeling bad - nothing negative had happened - but he wasn’t feeling exactly well either. He was caught in between dullness and boredom, a slight sense of anxiety, and the gut feeling that something was not quite right, yet he couldn’t put his finger on it.

He took his phone our and re-read the last conversation he had with Hannibal Lecter. He started typing a message – “Hey, I was wondering if you want to meet today?” – and then stopped and deleted it. He tried again – “Hey, is there anything wrong? Just wondering since you haven’t replied to my last message.” and deleted.

“Hey, I hope you’re having a good day.” Deleted.

“Hey, how are you?” Deleted.

“So… I guess you don’t want your phone back anymore?” Deleted.

“I’m free today evening if you want to meet.” Deleted.

“I’m available today evening for meeting you.” Deleted.

Deleted. Deleted. Deleted. Until – message sent. A brief moment of shock, and then panic, as blood flushed his face.

“Holy shit, Beverly,” Will shouted, startling Beverly and Franklyn.

“What? What happened?” she asked, alarmed, while Will was banging his head against the window.

“I fucked up – I fucked up big time!”

“What did you do?”

Franklyn was watching them both from the backseat and gasped when Beverly swiftly pulled the car over to the side of the road and stopped.

“What the hell did you do, Will?” she asked again, angrier, and slapped him slightly on the shoulder. Will slowly handed Beverly the phone.

“Why did you send that?” she inquired, half confused and half amused.

“I didn’t… I don’t know. I messed up.”

Beverly started laughing.

“You can always scapegoat Brian and Jimmy. Their reputation is already bad enough and it’s not like they’d mind it anyway.”

“No, Bev, I won’t do that. God, why am I such a mess?!”

He huffed and put the phone back in his pocket. Beverly started the car, nodding her head.

“You guys got a pencil?” Franklyn poked his head between their seats. “I was almost done with this when I got distracted and forgot a word and now I have to start all over again. I wouldn’t mind it but it’s already the fourth time and we’ve been driving for only-“

“Franklyn, I swear to god I’m gonna pull over again and dump your ass in the rain,” Beverly threatened exasperatedly, making Franklyn shudder and retract slowly back to his place. She quickly turned her head towards Will, just quickly enough to catch a fleeting smile on him, as she’d expected.

After a few minutes of silence, Beverly turned the radio volume up. A cheesy love song was playing.

“So what are you gonna do now?”

“Take my dogs and my Franklyn, move out in the mountains, open up a pie shop and live there in shame and regret for the rest of my life.” 

“You’re so dramatic.”

“7 letters word for ‘foolish person’,” Franklyn requested after a while.

“W-I-L-L-I-A-M,” Will replied without taking his eyes off the car window.

“No, I think it actually starts with a ‘P’.”

“Franklyn!” Beverly snapped, rendering him silent.

***

After they dropped Franklyn off at Jimmy and Brian’s place and dodged their invitation to stay over for dinner, Will and Beverly headed for their favorite bookshop café in town, and took their usual window seats. It was a beautiful place, with sophisticated décor and elegant accents, yet very warm and comfortable atmosphere.

Will’s small group of friends and their evenings out were best defined by routine. They had a few preferred places around town that they would attend regularly, getting to know the owners and staff personally, ordering the same things every time and surrounding themselves by familiarity and predictability. And yet, with all familiarly and predictability the environment and Beverly’s presence could offer, Will was still not at ease.

They both ordered coffee – Beverly also got red velvet cookies – and stood at their table without speaking for a long while.

“I think you should call him,” Beverly finally broke the silence after taking a bite from her cookies.

“And tell him what? ‘Sorry, I was just talking to myself, please ignore this’?”

“No, that he makes your nervous and that’s why you’re acting so strange.”

“He doesn’t make me nervous, Beverly.”

“Oh yeah? That’s why you were ready to jump off the car and become a hermit?”

Will didn’t answer back, so Beverly continued talking.

“Go and call him, you big doofus!”

Complying, Will took the phone and went outside, followed by Beverly’s approving glance. The rain had stopped for a moment, but it was still cold and windy. He was leaning on a short metal fence when he called Hannibal.

The phone rang once and a little girl with two puppies on the leash passed by. Will bent down to pet the puppies, only being able to touch their fluffy tails as the girl was rushing.

Twice. A teen left his bike outside and entered the café.

Three times. The traffic light of the junction in front of him turned green and two crowds of people started walking towards each other, mingling halfway on the crosswalk.

Four times. An elderly couple passed by, walking arm-in-arm and holding a bright and colorful umbrella above their heads.

Five times. Two women came out of the café, laughing and talking loudly, entered a car parked nearby, and left.

No answer. As Will turned around disappointed and was about to enter, Hannibal called back. He looked up through the window and saw Beverly watching him with intrigue. His heart was beating fast – not as fast as to say he was too anxious, but not as it would beat normally either. He answered.

“Hey.”

“Hello, Will.”

Hannibal sounded less enthusiastic than the other times they talked on the phone, almost morose. Before apologizing for the message he sent by accident, Will waited a few moments to see if Hannibal had anything else to tell him.

“I apologize for not answering your call,” Hannibal finally said. “I’m at the airport right now, and sadly I don’t have much time to talk.”

“Oh,” Will muttered. “I won’t bother you. I was just out in town and thought that maybe… maybe you wanted to meet. But it’s okay; don’t worry about it.”

He didn’t sound convincing. He wasn’t convinced himself.

“Believe me when I say I would have loved to, Will. I’m waiting for my flight to Luxembourg right now. I will spend the next week with the Grand Ducal family.”

Will’s mind was blank.

“And for the record, I deeply disagree with your previous text message,” Hannibal added with a soft laugher.

Of course he wasn’t mad. Of course he didn’t see it as embarrassing or uncomfortable. Was there any situation Hannibal Lecter could not treat with his – almost irritatingly – typical elegance?

“I guess I’ll eventually manage to prove you otherwise,” Will answered with a nervous chuckle. “Well… I’ll hear from you next week, then.”

“There’s nothing that would please me more than staying in touch with you, Will, over the course of this week.”

“I would like that too, yes.”

“Very well, then. I shall contact you as soon as it is convenient for both of us, considering the time zone difference.”

“Ah, don’t worry about it,” Will assured. “You can call or text me as soon as you get off the plane.”

“So I know that you’ve arrived safely,” he completed.

“You are a true delight, Will. I must confess I always feel better after talking to you, and I can’t wait to meet you in person.”

“Me too, Hannibal. Me too. Have a nice flight!”

Will walked back in with a wide smile on his face. His nose and ears were red from the cold. He rubbed his palms together and ordered another hot drink, and then told Beverly everything he talked with Hannibal. She insisted that he and Hannibal were developing a crush on each other, but Will fervently denied the idea, using the argument that they weren’t teenagers anymore, and that it was nothing more than the beginning of a friendship.

They went online and checked all flights that left from Baltimore to Luxembourg, trying to figure out which one might be Hannibal’s. Eventually, they estimated that the first flight would take about 8 hours, and then another one of 2 more hours.

On the way back to Will’s place, Beverly noticed he became silent suddenly, lost in his thoughts.

“What are you thinking about?” she asked.

“The sort of parallel universe this man is coming from. He’s going to meet the freaking Royal family.”

“Grand Ducal,” Beverly corrected.

“And I’m just going to meet my dogs and…” he paused for a moment. “Oh fuck!”

“What is it this time?”

“Bev, we forgot Franklyn.”

***

Will was lying on bed on his back. He and Franklyn decided to a build a pillow walls between them and separate the bed in two halves, which was to Will’s disadvantage because all dogs wanted to sleep on his side, but at least he could avoid Franklyn’s unconscious kicking and restless legs.

It was almost midnight and according to his and Beverly’s estimations, the soonest Hannibal could contact him was in about 4 hours. He briefly considered staying awake that night not to miss Hannibal’s call or message, but fell asleep before he could give the idea any serious thought.

At over 30,000 feet up in the air, Hannibal was just finishing his glass of champagne. He leaned against his seat and closed his eyes, imagining the young man eagerly expecting to get in contact with him.

Chapter Text

 DAY 1 – 23th October

A soft and faded buzzing sound reached Will in his sleep, slowly waking him up. His face felt warm from the sunlight falling on him through the window. After a few lazy blinks, he heard a second sound and lifted himself on an elbow. Franklyn was already awake and various kitchen sounds were coming from downstairs. He reached for the phone, still rubbing his eyes so he could see clearly. An exhilarated smile spread across Will’s face – it was Hannibal.

DAY 2 – 23th October

It seemed that Hannibal had taken care of letting people know about their mix-up because the calls that were directed to him had stopped almost completely. Almost.

It was evening and Will was in a supermarket, shopping for groceries and other necessary things, including a list Franklyn had written and handed him, when the phone rang. Expecting to see a call from Beverly or Franklyn, he was surprised to read the name “Frederick Chilton” on the screen.

“Hello,” he answered.

The man at the other end was obviously surprised to hear the unfamiliar voice too because he paused for a few good seconds.

“My, oh my! And who might you be?” he finally said.

“I’m, uh, Will Graham.  Has Hannibal not told you about this?”

“He most certainly omitted it. The good old Doctor Lecter – quite forgetful, isn’t he?”

“I wouldn’t put all blame on him.”

“Of course not. I imagine both parts are involved. Or is there a third part too?”

“No, no, it didn’t get that far. Though I wouldn’t be too surprised if it did happen one day.”

“I wouldn’t either. Hannibal has always had a knack for getting himself in this sort of… shall we call it ‘arrangement’?”

“Really? Has he?”

“Oh, yes! Especially in his years of youth. You should have met him then.”

“Well, then at least I know we’ve got that in common.”

“I’m sure you do. How did this start in the first place?”

“We’ve met at his yacht party a few days ago. Woke up next morning and, yeah…”

Will laughed slightly as he was pushing the cart, and stopped in front of the shelf with aftershave. He grabbed the first one he saw – something with a ship on the bottle –and moved on.

“What can I say? I’m glad we had the chance to talk, Will Graham. I should leave you alone now.”

“Yeah, sure. By the way, do you have a message for Hannibal?”

“No, no, don’t worry about it. It’s just a work-related issue. I’ll e-mail him about it.”

“Alright, as you wish.”

Will arrived home and was unpacking the groceries while his dogs were cheerfully jumping around him, when Hannibal Lecter called.

“Hey! I was actually thinking of calling you.”

“I’m very pleased to hear I occupy some of your thoughts, just as you occupy some of mine.  The reason for which I called you… Have you spoken with Frederick Chilton today?”

“Uh, yes. I think that was his name. He called a bit earlier and said he was going to e-mail you about something related to work.”

“He did contact me, but it was hardly work-related. Have you told him we are romantically involved, Will?”

“What?!” Will exclaimed in shock, dropping a carton of eggs, some of them breaking and spreading all over the kitchen floor, and muttered a few swear words under his breath.

“In the e-mail he sent me he seemed convinced you and I are having a romantic affair, and he berated me for not letting him know about it earlier.”

“I haven’t told him anything like that. No idea where he took that from. Do you want me to call him?”

“Actually…”

“Yes?”

“I was thinking we could take advantage of this situation,” Hannibal said after a brief pause that made Will’s heart start beating faster.

“I’m not sure I understand what you mean.”

“Frederick has been a longtime friend of mine, but he’s often unpleasantly prying. Maybe we could fix this.”

“And how would we do that?”

“By pretending we are indeed having a romantic affair.”

DAY 3 – 24th October

Will and Beverly were sitting on a bench and eating the hamburgers Beverly had brought for lunch.

“So let me get this straight,” she said, munching on her food. “You’ll pretend to be Lecter’s boyfriend to teach his friend a lesson about meddling in other people’s business?”

“More or less,” Will answered, unsure himself how they were going to pull that off, and especially why he had agreed in the first place. “We’re not actually going to do anything besides keeping this illusion in case Chilton calls me again. That’s all.”

“Sure it is.”

Will rolled his eyes with contempt towards her insinuations.

“What, Beverly?”

“This is the classic ‘Let’s pretend we’re in love until we actually fall in love’ scenario, isn’t it?”

“No, it’s not. It’s like that time when we pretended to be a couple at Mrs. Howey’s Christmas dinner. It meant nothing.”

“We had to do that because otherwise she would have tried to set you up with her granddaughter. And it’s a completely different situation.”

“How is it any different?”

“You and I were already friends when we did that, but with Hannibal… there’s a lot of room between you two for developing something romantic.”

“I… I don’t know anymore, Beverly. It’s confusing and scary, but…”

“Exciting?”

“Yeah.”

DAY 4 – 25th October

“Okay, I mixed the mustard, butter, and honey.”

“Great! Now, in another bowl, mix together the bread crumbs, pecans, and parsley.”

“Right, I’m on it.”

Will started adding the ingredients and mixing them together, following Hannibal’s instructions, while holding the phone between his ear and shoulder.

“Did you remember to preheat the oven to 400 degrees, Will?”

“Uhm…”

Will paused for a moment, and then shouted off-phone.

“Franklyn! Can you please turn the oven on and set it to 400 degrees?”

Franklyn was playing fetch with the dogs in Will’s living room.

“Sure!” he agreed.  “Let me know if there is anything else I can do.”

“That’s all, Franklyn. Thanks!”

Will returned to his conversation with Hannibal.

“Sorry. I got it now. What’s next?”

“Now you should season each salmon fillet with salt and pepper,” Hannibal explained further.

“Okay, gonna do that. Oh, wait a minute. Chilton just sent me a message. He’s asking how our holiday is going.”

Hannibal laughed, amused at his friend’s insistence regarding his private life.

“Then you should tell him the truth.”

“Which is…?”

“That we’re enjoying each other’s company. Cooking together. Isn’t it so?”

“Yeah, it’s true.”

Hannibal was laughing joyously when Will showed him the conversation he had had with Frederik Chilton.

“You’ve handled it perfectly, I believe.”

“I must say this is quite fun actually. Okay, I brushed the salmon with the mustard-honey mix.”

“Now cover the top of each fillet with the bread crumb mixture.”

“How will this play out when you come back?”

“How do you imagine it to play out?”

“I’m not sure. You should tell him the truth and that we are just pretending.”

“Should I?”

“If you want to. Okay, done.”

 “Let it bake for about 10 minutes now, and that is all.”

“Well, it wasn’t too difficult. Thanks for the help!”

“It was my pleasure. I will gladly teach you other recipes too.”

“And I will gladly learn them.”

DAY 5 – 26th October

“Okay, my turn. Childhood hero?”

“That would be Mephistopheles.”

“Are you serious now? Have you ever heard of Batman or Han Solo?”

“I was anything but conventional during my childhood.”

“From what I’ve seen so far, I wouldn’t say you’re much different now.”

“I will take it as a compliment. I believe it’s my turn now.”

“Shoot.”

“If you could only eat one meal for the rest of your life, what would it be?”

“Uh… mozzarella sticks. Actually, no. Tacos. Or maybe chicken nuggets?”

“That’s a terrifying prospect. Personally, I would rather starve to death than subject my body to such a horrible treatment.”

“Oh, shut up!”

Will was walking on his front porch while talking to Hannibal. Beverly, Jimmy, Brian and Franklyn were all inside his house, playing Scrabble.

“Will, we are still waiting for you!” Beverly yelled after him, losing her patience.

“Just one moment!” Will answered, and then continued his conversation with Hannibal. “I know a really good fast-food place in town. I’ll have to take you there one day.”

“Is it a date?”

Will smirked and felt a rush of cold air brushing his face and ruffling his hair.

“Only if you bring me flowers.”

“Sounds like a plan!”

Will walked back inside and received a wave of scolding from his friends because he made them wait for him for so long. But he didn’t mind. He was in a good mood and for the rest of the evening, he felt distracted as his thoughts kept flying back and forth to Hannibal.

DAY 6 – 27th October

As the cold season was approaching, Will’s workload was getting significantly thinner. He was free that day so he spent the morning walking his dogs with Franklyn and taking them to the park. They were about to leave when Brian called Franklyn and asked him to hand his phone over to Will.

“Dude,” he started talking loudly as soon as Will took the phone. “This is guy is obsessed with you!”

“What? Who?”

“Lecter. He said he called you today and you didn’t answer so then he called me to ask what’s up.”

Will pat his pockets frantically and looked around him only to notice he didn’t have the phone with him.

“Oh crap. I must have left my phone at home. Can you, uh, call him back or something and tell him? I’ll be home in about half an hour.”

“Yeah, okay, but don’t get used to this. I’m not gonna be the meat in this Graham-Lecter sandwich.”

 “Trust me; I really wouldn’t want you to be.”

DAY 7 – 28th October

“I’m at the airport now, Will. I’m leaving in a few minutes.”

“Have a good flight! Don’t forget to call me when you arrive here.”

“And if I wake you up?”

“Then I’ll be thankful you did.”

Will got used to the little puffing sound Hannibal would make when something made him smile. Almost inaudible, but it was there – a short breath followed by a brief silence – and Will wondered what Hannibal looked like when he was smiling, if his lips ever curved into a broad smile, or if the skin around his eyes wrinkled, if he ever laughed until his stomach hurt and if he ever burst out laughing at an inappropriate moment, if he ever fell asleep crying – perhaps when he was younger – and if he ever felt like running away. He wondered if he ever felt lonely at night and wished there was somebody to tell him goodnight, if he ever woke up to a silent and empty house and wished there was somebody to tell him good morning.

He wondered if he needed someone like him – Will Graham – in his life and he wondered if he needed someone like him – Hannibal Lecter – too.

Yes. He did. They both did.

Chapter Text

Hannibal Lecter was standing outside of his parked black Bentley, leaning against the hood, with his arms crossed. Will approached with small and hesitant steps as the other man was watching him closely. When he got closer, Hannibal started laughing.

“I can’t believe you actually came,” he said between chuckles. 

“Why wouldn’t I?” Will asked, frowning.

“Did you really think I was serious? That I would want to spend my time with someone like you?”

Hannibal continued to laugh, intimidating and mocking, making Will feel like he wanted to turn around and run away from there, but he felt pinned down to the ground by Hannibal’s piercing and condescending gaze. His head felt heavy and his legs went numb. He was unable to move or to talk, and everything started spinning around him.

He opened his eyes and gasped.

“Damn it, Bev! I told you not to touch him,” Brian grumbled and returned to his seat.

Will looked around confused. He was in Beverly’s car in the passenger’s seat, Beverly was driving, and Jimmy, Brian and Franklyn were in the backseat. 

“You fell asleep,” she explained. “And these assholes tried to take a pic of you and Photoshop god knows what on your face.”

Will needed a few more moments before becoming aware of what was going on. He remembered staying awake the previous night to make sure he wouldn’t miss Hannibal’s call or message. He spent the night researching information about the museum Hannibal was working at and its current exhibitions, about literature references Hannibal had made in their conversations, about kitchen cutlery, types of wine, classical music, psychiatric terms, and everything else could be considered one of Hannibal’s many interests.

When he eventually called in the morning, Will was making himself another coffee. He tried to lie that he had just woken up, but Hannibal sensed the tiredness in his voice and expressed his disagreement. He told Will he should never skip a night’s sleep again and took the time to detail why, all while hinting at the fact that he was secretly delighted that Will had spent a whole night awake just for him.

Later on, Hannibal called Will again and invited him to his Halloween ball, the following Saturday.

“It would be the perfect opportunity for us to meet,” he said. “All of your friends are invited too.”

Will accepted, even though he was terrified of fancy, high society type of parties, and hated wearing a suit, and – even worse – a masquerade mask. And so he was in the car with his friends, going shopping.

“I’ve said it before, and I’m saying it again,” Jimmy spoke. “There’s nothing that can make me wear one of those shiny and pretentious masks.”

“You know, you don’t have to come,” Beverly declared.

“And miss the opportunity to embarrass Will? Ha! Never.”

“You’re the best friends I could ever dream of,” Will said, in a monotone and sarcastic voice.

“We know!” Brian announced.

The mall was crowded with rushed people and decorated with pumpkins of all shapes and sizes, bats, spider webs, skeletons, witches, vampires, and all sorts of classic Halloween decorations. Jimmy, Brian and Franklyn lost themselves in the sea of orange and black, leaving Will and Beverly alone. A distinctive smell of pumpkin pie, together with roasted apples and cinnamon, was floating around.

“Well,” Beverly started. “Let’s not waste too much time with this.”

Will agreed and they entered the first shop they found. The walls of the small space were covered with masks of all sorts: some hilarious, others intended to be scary, and others – the ones they were looking for – elegant and beautifully crafted. They looked around for a while, and with help from the friendly and chatty seller, Beverly chose hers. It was dark red, with subtle glittery golden details.

Will, on the other hand, spent way more time trying to decide which one to choose, and – to Beverly’s irritation – the seller was happy to show him every single mask they had and let him try them on and compare. 

Red – “too fierce”

Purple – “too intense”

Yellow – “too bright”

Black – “not bright enough”

Blue – “too deep”

Brown – “too simple”

Pink – “too sophisticated”

After more than half an hour and tens of masks tried on, he eventually picked one: half green and half blue, with silvery accents, not too fancy and not too simple.

“Just perfect,” Will said, and turned around to Beverly.

She approved of his look and quickly picked one for Franklyn too. “Jimmy and Brian can buy their own,” she said, and then hurried Will to leave, afraid that he would change his mind and make them spend even more time there.

They waded through the crowd for a while before eventually spotting Jimmy, Brian and Franklyn. They were sitting in a group of children and showing off the prize they had won at a pumpkin carving competition.

“Oh boy,” Beverly whispered. “We’re friends with a bunch of five-year-olds.”

But before she could finish, Will was already rushing over to them to admire the carved pumpkins.

They were all sitting around a table at the mall, eating pie and caramel apples, and drinking pumpkin spice lattes, when Jimmy and Brian got up, Brian raising his glass and slightly hitting it with a plastic spoon a few times, in an attempt to mimic a toast.

“We have some very exciting news to share,” Jimmy started.

Beverly exchanged a worried look with Will. “Oh no…”

“Oh yes!” Brain exclaimed enthusiastically, and then allowed Jimmy to continue.

“Franklyn will come to live with us,” he announced, to which Franklyn nodded with a smile.

“Oh,” Beverly sighed with relief. “That’s not so bad.”

“If Will agrees too, of course,” Franklyn added.

“Yeah, sure. It’s fine for me.”

They bought five large pumpkins – one for each of them – and drove to Will’s house. Will carved his into a puppy, Franklyn made a classic model, Beverly’s one turned out to be the spookiest, and Jimmy and Brian just carved each other’s face onto theirs – or so they attempted. They lighted candles and arranged them on Will’s porch, then went inside to watch “The Nightmare Before Christmas”.

Will was sitting on the couch, nuzzled by one of his dogs, with Beverly opposite of him, and Franklyn, Brian, and Jimmy were sitting on the floor with blankets and pillow. They had popcorn, salty snacks, and beer. A few minutes after the movie started, Brian started talking.

“I’ve never actually known for sure if we’re supposed to watch this on Halloween or Christmas.”

“We’re watching it both on Halloween and Christmas every single year. Why do you always have to bring this up?” Beverly asked.

“Because it’s important!”

“We would make a compromise,” Jimmy said. “We could watch it halfway between Halloween and Christmas.”

“But there is an even number of days, so that means we should watch it between November the 27^th and the 28^th.”

“That’s right. November the 27^th at midnight sounds good to me.”

“I’m in too!” Franklyn announced.

“We should call it Hallomas,” Brian suggested.

“Or Christween.”

“No, Franklyn, we would call it Christween if Christmas came before-“

Jimmy was interrupted by an attack of popcorn coming from Beverly. “Will you, dorks, shut the hell up?”

Brian took a kernel of popcorn out of his hair. “You could have asked nicely.”

“As if I don’t know how well that work on you.”

Will was mostly asleep, and could vaguely hear their voices, combined with the movie in the background, and the smell of popcorn and beer. By the time the movie ended, he was already fast asleep. Beverly noticed and threatened that she would leave Brian, Jimmy, and Franklyn alone to walk back home if they made noise to scare Will. She woke him up gently by shaking his shoulder.

“Let’s take you to bed, Will, okay?”

He found his way upstairs, stumbling and keeping his eyes closed, while being held by Beverly. He threw himself on bed, and Winston came to lick his hanging hand.

“We’ll leave now,” Beverly spoke softly. “Franklyn will leave too and spend the night at Jimmy and Brian’s. Is that okay?”

Will nodded. “Mhm.”

“Good. We’ll see you tomorrow.”

She kissed his head and covered him with a blanket, and then left together with Jimmy, Brian, and Franklyn to drop them off at their place.

The first thing Will did the next day after waking up was to call Beverly and thank her for feeding the dogs and tucking him into bed before leaving. He then tried to call Hannibal, but the man didn’t answer. Will figured he was busy preparing for the Halloween party, so he didn’t insist, but couldn’t help feeling somewhat nervous either. It was not only his long awaited first meeting with Hannibal, but also a party with lots of strangers completely outside of his social circle. The only consolation was that his friends were going to be there too, and that, of course, he was going to finally meet Hannibal in person.

He decided to spend the afternoon fishing – the only activity that could always help him relax and take his mind off any worries or problems. He was waiting in silence, near the water, when Hannibal Lecter sent him a text message.

In the evening, Will put his best suit on – his only suit – and combed his hair, then went downstairs to find out that the dogs took his mask and started playing with it.

“Winston! Shirley! No!”

He shooed the dogs away and tried to save his mask, but it was already half chewed up.

“Come on, guys… Why did you do this?”

He was more sad than upset. “It’s not their fault,” he thought. “I should’ve put it in a better place.”

It was already 7:30 pm and the party was starting at 8:00 pm. The shops where he could have bought a new one from were most certainly already closed. He called Beverly and told her he was going to take a taxi and that they can leave without him, and then tried to fix the mask by gluing in back together.

After spending a fair amount of time bent over his desk and trying to place the mask back together piece by piece, Will decide it was just a waste of time to continue, so he rushed to leave and headed for the main road. Just as he was about to wave a taxi to stop, he noticed his wallet was missing.

He covered his face with his palms, inhaled and exhaled slowly, then tried to decide how he should proceed. He called Hannibal.

“Hey! Uhm… something came up and I will be late,” he spoke, while walking fast on the streets.

“Will? Is everything alright?”

Hannibal’s voice was covered by the background noise of music and people’s loud chatter, and Will figured that the other man probably couldn’t hear him at all. He ended the call and hurried to send one last message, before the battery emptied completely, and the phone shut off.

 “God damn it!” he whispered, annoyed. He looked around. Kids and teens in costumes were wandering on the streets, trick-or-treating, going to parties, or simply enjoying the lukewarm weather and the clear night sky.

When Beverly, Frankly, Jimmy and Brian arrived at Hannibal’s party, the ballroom was already half full with people dressed in sophisticated attire matching the décor and wearing elegant masks. Everyone seemed to be having a great time; they were all talking to one another, and enjoying the drinks or finger foods. A fast-paced melody was playing in the background, catering personnel with silver trays full of all sorts of exotic-looking food and drinks were graciously walking among guests, there were balloons and Halloween-themed decorations hanging from the ceiling, and the atmosphere was quite welcoming.

Unlike everyone else at the party, Jimmy and Brian were wearing plain black Zorro masks, refusing to even try something more fitting. They soon disappear in the crowd, dragging Franklyn after them and leaving Beverly alone. Being the designed driver that evening, she politely refused the alcoholic drinks she was offered and took a seat at the table especially reserved for them.

Hannibal Lecter approached her and introduced himself.

“And you must be Beverly Katz,” he said while shaking her hand.

“Yes, I am.”

“Then Will Graham must have arrived too.”

“Not yet. He said he was taking a taxi, so he should be here any minute now.”

Hannibal couldn’t hide his disappointment, so he didn’t continue the discussion and excused himself, walking over to another table.

“It’s clear that he was experimenting with recipes of a new dietetic type of cake when a bee flew right into his latte,” Brian said.

“Or bees are the secret ingredient for a delicious latte,” Jimmy added.

Franklyn poked his head over Beverly’s shoulder to read the message she had received from Will too.

“Maybe he was attacked by bees and is in trouble.”

“He’s saying that his battery died and he’s gonna be late,” Beverly explained, ignoring the others’ speculations.

“I don’t think so,” Brian commented, making Beverly turn to him and nod her head in disagreement. 

The main entrance was decorated with colored candles and pumpkin-themed garlands. “A bit childish,” Will thought, expecting to see something more sumptuous and elegant from Hannibal Lecter. He opened the door, revealing a group of costumed children running around, and parents yelling after them. There were cookies, cake, jellybeans and plastic glasses with juice on a large table, plastic skeletons hanging from the ceiling, pumpkins on the floor in a corner, and “Spooky Scary Skeletons” was playing in the background.

Baffled by the staggering mix of colors and noises, children running and screaming, and parents trying – and failing – to keep them under control, Will had no time to react and a slice of pumpkin pie landed right on his chest, smearing all over his suit.

“Oh my god!” a familiar female voice emerged from the room. “I’m so, so sorry! They’re just kids…”

“Mrs. Howey?” Will asked, recognizing the short old woman who approached him with a wet towel and started cleaning his clothes.

“Oh, William! What a coincidence! I didn’t even recognize you in these clothes.”

Mrs. Howey was a long-time acquaintance of Will’s, as she’s been his neighbor for years and knew him since he was a little boy.

“You look very handsome,” she added, winking at Will, and making him feel slightly uncomfortable.

“Sorry for crashing your party. I must have gotten the wrong address.”

“Don’t worry about it, dear! You actually came at the perfect moment.”

“Perfect moment to get hit by pie,” Will thought. His white shirt was stained with an orange and sticky spot, but at least there was no more pie on it.

“The kids want to go trick-or-treating, but we don’t have enough adults to go with them. Would you mind…”

“Oh no, Mrs. Howey, no! I’m supposed to be somewhere else, and I’m already late, and I forgot my wallet at home, and the phone battery died, and now I have pie on my shirt, and smell like a pumpkin…”

“Please, William! Think about the kids. Remember how I used to take you trick-or-treating when nobody else wanted to?”

“Yes, and that was very sweet of you, but…”

“Don’t disappoint the kids, William!”

Will sighed deeply. His night was already ruined, so it didn’t matter anymore. He could at least make some kids happy.

“Okay, I’ll do it,” he eventually said, and Mrs. Howey wrapped her arms around his neck and dragged him lower so she could kiss him to the cheek.

Frederick Chilton noticed he wasn’t the only one enjoying Hannibal’s food perhaps a little bit too much – Franklyn was doing the same thing at the other end of the ballroom, stuffing food in his mouth. Chilton approached him and introduced himself.

“It’s fantastic, isn’t it?!” he asked enthusiastically.

“Oh yes!” Franklyn agreed. “I wonder if Doctor Lecter will ever publish a cooking book. I would certainly buy it.”

Frederick paused for a moment, and then his face lightened up with joy.

“Franklyn Froideveaux! I would kiss you right now, but you have your mouth full of egg rolls. You just gave me the best idea.”

“I… I did?”

“Yes! I will write a cooking book,” Frederick announced proudly.

“I didn’t know you could cook.”

“I can’t. But I can write and publish, and that’s more important. Do you want to be my writing assistant?”

“Franklyn! Please come here and help me. We have to go,” Beverly interrupted them.

“What? Already? But we just arrived,” Franklyn complained.

“Jimmy and Brian threw up on the floor. I can’t take them both home all on my own.”

“Okay…” Franklyn reluctantly accepted, and then turned to Frederick. “Yes, I would love to be your writing assistant!”

They exchanged phone numbers, said their goodbyes, and then Franklyn helped Beverly take Brian and Jimmy to her car.

“I’m sorry about the chocolate fountains,” Beverly apologized to Hannibal, before leaving.

“I’m more worried about the state they will wake up in tomorrow morning,” Hannibal said, with a sincerely concerned tone. “They ingested a huge amount of alcohol and sugar in a short period of time.”

“Don’t worry about them. They had it coming. Oh, by the way, Will texted me and said his phone battery died and that he’s gonna be late. But I’m sure he’ll eventually come.”

“Thank you, Miss Katz. And please do let me know if you have any news about Will.”

Will Graham was responsible of taking the five kids trick-or-treating and then bringing them back. He received a paper bag to collect candy too, as well as a plastic zombie mask to wear. The kids were all about 8 or 9 years old, and to Will’s surprise, they were quite reasonable, not too loud, and they listened to Will and followed his lead carefully. He didn’t have much experience with children, but he had seven dogs at home, so how difficult could it have been?

More difficult than he had expected, as it later turned out.

After half an hour, one of them claimed the others stole his candy. Will’s way of dealing with it was by making all of them pour their bags over, count all sweets, and share them equally. Luckily for him, the kids were all satisfied with his solution and they continued without any more fighting.

Bedelia du Maurier was sitting by herself at the table. She politely refused the glass of champagne she had been offered, and instead poured herself another glass from the whiskey bottle on the table. Anthony Dimmond was holding a glass in each of his hands when he approached her table and sat down next to her.

“Terrific,” he said, while emptying one of the glasses in one go.

“The party or the drinks?” she asked lazily.

“The company,” the man smiled. “I’m Anthony Dimmond.”

“Bedelia du Maurier.”

“Ah! Hannibal’s psychiatrist.”

She extended her hand, and Anthony caught it in his, pressing it against his lips in an old-fashioned gesture of courtesy.

“I love the decorations,” he said, looking around at the deer antlers covered in fake blood hanging from the walls.

Bedelia huffed. “This is what his house looks like during the whole year.”

“You seem to know a lot about Hannibal Lecter’s private residence.”

“Our relationship requires privacy.”

“Something tells me that you’re not strictly referring to the doctor-patient relationship.”

“It must be the alcohol telling you that.”

Anthony laughed, and raised his eyebrows suggestively.

“What does the alcohol tell you, Doctor du Maurier?”

As they were heading over to one of the last houses to visit, Will and the kids encountered another group of children who were throwing rocks at a dog.

“Hey!” Will shouted after them as the children started running away. “Leave it alone!”

The dog seemed to be unharmed, but extremely malnourished and scared.

“It’s okay, buddy,” Will whispered as he took the puppy in his arms, trying to soothe it.

“Can we keep it?” one of the kids asked, and the others joined, collectively begging Will to keep the puppy, without knowing that he had already made plans to take it home with him.

“Let’s get back to Mrs. Howey, and then we’ll see which one of you can keep it.”

The kids all started cheering and group-hugged Will enthusiastically.

Margot Verger was talking to Hannibal Lecter, when Alana Bloom came over. Hannibal introduced the two to each other and then left them alone.

“So how do you two know each other?” Alana asked.

“I have a riding school. Hannibal is my advisor, and helps me manage it. And you?”

“We’re colleagues. He was my mentor during my studies. We’ve been friends for a long time.”

“Ah! I see. For Hannibal’s friends, riding lessons are on me.”

Alana smiled knowingly.

“I might not need a lesson,” she said.

“Even better. You should come over sometime.”

“It would be my pleasure.”

“Thank you so much, William dear!” Mrs. Howey said, patting Will’s cheek. “You’ve made these kids so happy! Is there something we can do for you too?”

“Yes. Now that you mention it, there might be something. There’s a party I need to go to.”

“Of course! I’ll ask someone to drive you there.”

“That would be perfect. Also do you happen to have any wine here?”

Hannibal Lecter said goodbye to the last two guests left, and closed the doors behind them. The musicians were packing their instruments, and the catering personnel were carrying plates, glasses, and cutlery away, and tidied up the tables. There were confetti and deflated balloons everywhere. Hannibal’s party was a success, and all guests had a great time, except there was one particular guest missing, one who would have made a huge difference for Hannibal. He had anticipated his meeting with Will for so long, that he couldn’t help but feel disappointed when it didn’t happen.

Not the way he imagined it.

He heard the doors opening behind him. Will Graham entered the ballroom with small and unsure steps. His black suit and white shirt were stained with pumpkin pie, mud and dog hair, his green-blue mask was half chewed up and clumsily glued back together, his hair was ruffled, and he was holding a brown paper bag with candy in one hand, and a half-empty plastic bottle of cranberry juice in the other. 

Hannibal was standing straight as Will walked towards him. His face was illuminated by a wide smile, his facial features softened.

“I’m a mess,” Will spoke first, laughing slightly, but without feeling embarrassed. It felt like a genuinely hilarious moment for him.

“You’re the most beautiful mess I’ve ever encountered,” Hannibal said, without taking his eyes off of Will. He was mesmerized by the younger man.

Will wasn’t sure if he was supposed to go for a traditional handshake or a hug, and Hannibal wasn’t sure anymore either, so after a few clumsy movements and attempts, they ended up with an uncoordinated fist bump. Will tried to take his mask off, but Hannibal stopped him.

“It is said that it brings bad luck to uncover our faces before midnight.”

“It’s not like we’re getting married,” Will joked.

“Who knows the thoughts one might have after a night like this.”

Will didn’t answer, and even though it was completely unreasonable to talk about marriage two minutes after meeting each other in person, he felt like Hannibal was right. It was a special night, and who knew?

“Are you going to devour these all by yourself?” Hannibal asked, pointing in the direction of Will’s candy bag with his head.

“I don’t mind sharing them with you.”

“Maybe another time,” Hannibal answered, but Will knew he meant “I am never going to eat something like this.”

Hannibal took the candy bag and bottle of cranberry juice out of Will’s hands, brushing his fingers with his own, ever so gently. He put them on a table nearby and waved at the musicians, gesturing them to play a song. After a few moments, they started.

Wise men say only fools rush in,

Will recognized the song instantly, and couldn’t decide if Hannibal’s choice was either extremely cliché or extremely fitting. Either way, he enjoyed it.

but I can't help falling in love with you.

“May I have this dance?” Hannibal asked, extending his hand towards Will.

 “Hannibal… I, I don’t dance,” Will answered, flustered by Hannibal’s request.

Would it be a sin

if I can't help falling in love with you?

 “Of course you do,” Hannibal spoke softly. “I promise I won’t step on your feet.”

Will laughed. “Okay…”

Darling, so it goes

Some things are meant to be

Will placed one of his hands on Hannibal’s, and the other on his shoulder.  His hand felt soft, warm, and dry, under Will’s sweaty skin. Hannibal put his arm around his waist and pulled him closer. He was only slightly taller than Will, but they were so close, that the other had to look up at him.

Take my hand, take my whole life too

They started moving to the music, slowly, and Will allowed Hannibal to guide him through the ballroom, through balloons and confetti, only the two of them on the dance floor. He felt light, and his steps quickly synchronized with Hannibal’s, until he had to lead no more, and they were both carrying each other on the same rhythm.

Will put his head on Hannibal’s crook of the neck, a soft sigh escaping from between the other man’s lips. They both closed their eyes and listened to each other’s slow breathing.

For I can't help falling in love with you…

Chapter Text

Will put a shirt on hastily and stumbled down the stairs to open the door for Hannibal, but not before stopping for a moment to run his finger through his hair, in a rather futile attempt to arrange it. It wasn’t that he suddenly started caring too much about how his hair looked, but Hannibal might have, and that proved to be just enough to make him mindful of his appearance.

He swung the door ajar revealing Hannibal sitting outside, on the front porch. A gust of cold air came in and made Will shudder shortly. He instantly felt guilty for making Hannibal wait outside for so long – how long has he been there anyway? Will thought it would have been inappropriate to ask, but his hesitation made them spend even more time in the same more-or-less unfortunate situation.

“May I come in?” Hannibal asked courteously, bending forward slightly, and Will could have sworn for a moment that he was about to give a bow. Luckily, he didn’t, because Will wasn’t sure how he would have reacted. Probably by extending his hand for the other to kiss or awkwardly patting him on the head or – “Oh damn, he’s still sitting there.”

Nodding, Will opened the door completely and moved out of the way, finally allowing a soaking and cold air-carrying Hannibal to enter. He suddenly became aware that his house was in its usual state – not dirty or grubby, just terribly disorganized, all objects sitting in places they were not supposed to be: a dog collar hanging from a corner of the TV, a teakettle on the sofa, several books stacked up all over the floor, boxes of various dimensions sitting on shelfs and at the corners of the room, as if someone has just moved in and was still unpacking. But Will hasn’t just moved in; it was merely his method of keeping things out of the way. He was always busy with something more important than cleaning up, even when he wasn’t actually busy. Will simply couldn’t see the purpose of keeping a house neatly organized. He was a practical man, not caring about the aesthetic side of life, and what looked like chaos in the eyes of other people, was his personal order.

“So this is my place,” Will announced formally.

Hannibal secretly wished he could take a closer look around, but instead he just smiled politely, even though he was dying to find out more about Will. And what better way to get to know someone intimately is there if not by searching/investigating/examining their private space?

“Very lovely,” Hannibal complimented. “Intimate. Cozy. A snug shelter to hide you from the outside world.”

He couldn’t help himself. He had to make a remark about Will’s house relating to his rather introvert personality. Anticipating a reaction, he searched Will’s face with sharp attention. To his disappointment, no reaction came from Will. The man was more challenging to uncover than Hannibal had expected.

“I’m surprised you remembered my address,” Will confessed.

After finally meeting in person the previous night, Hannibal drove Will back home, and apparently he memorized his address.

“Nothing about you is easily forgettable, Will.”

Will furrowed his brow, and decided not to address the issue of remembering details about each other yet. It was a big deal that Hannibal considered Will far from bland, perhaps too big considered the minimal encounters they’ve had. But Will did feel the same way about Hannibal. Everything about him was memorable – from his name to his face and from his flamboyant dress suits to his smell and the softness of his hands and–

“I came here because you forgot your candy last night.” Hannibal’s voice pulled Will out of his derailed train of thought.

It was only partially true. The main reason Hannibal spontaneously decided to visit Will was simply because he wanted to see him.

Will snickered. “Are you so afraid of candy that you had to come here and get rid of it?”

“And also because I realized we still haven’t exchanged our phones.”

“Oh, right,” Will muttered. “It’s upstairs. I’ll just go and–“

“Will,” Hannibal stopped him, and grabbed his arm gently when he tried to turn around. “I have already sorted this confusion out with most of my usual contacts, and changing it again now would only produce further misunderstandings. We don’t have to switch the phones at all.”

Will considered the proposal for a moment. “Well, that’s not a bad idea. I mean, I got used to it like this too and it doesn’t bother me anymore.”

Hannibal smiled with a satisfied look on his face.

“What about the ringtone? Do you want me to help you change it?”

“I must be honest with you, Will. At first I found it absolutely obnoxious. As we grew closer, I started associating the annoying sound with you.”

“So now you find me annoying too?” Will asked, frowning.

Hannibal laughed lightly. “On the contrary,” he explained, as a matter of fact. “Because of you, now I no longer find the song annoying. I almost relish the moments when I am in public and I receive a call. It often brings a smile to my face and reminds me of you, and you only.”

Will listened silently as the other confessed his feelings until it suddenly dawned on him that they were past the point of return. He smiled to himself as he imagined Beverly’s reaction and her unavoidable and otherwise completely justified “I told you so!”

Frederick Chilton was listening to the conversation going on at the other end of the line with a mortified look on his face. He answered a call from Hannibal, but based on the exchange between him and what sounded like Will Graham, he quickly figured that the call was an accident and he was not supposed to hear any of that. He was not supposed to, and he knew it would haunt him for days, but it was so bad that he couldn’t just end the call and pretend it never happened. He had to listen until the end.

“How am I supposed to fit that in my mouth?” Hannibal asked, his voice sounding seriously distressed. Frederick could only imagine what that was and why Hannibal would have troubles fitting it in his mouth.

“You don’t have to,” Will explained. “Just give it a lick.”

“How very considerate of Mr. Graham,” Fredrick thought. The conversation continued.

“The color looks unnatural, and the smell is not the most appetizing.” Chilton gasped, and wondered if dating Hannibal Lecter was coming with included healthcare benefits and free medical checkups. If so, he should have considered the option earlier.

“Oh, come on,” Will insisted. “Everyone loves it like this.”

“Everyone loves it? Experienced AND confident, this Will Graham. Who would have thought?”

“I’m sorry, Will. There is no way you can convince me to put it anywhere near my mouth. But if you really want it-“

A high-pitched noise and then the phone call ended, leaving Frederick Chilton unable to process what happened just yet. Back at Will Graham’s home, the conversation continued.

“But if you really want it, I have plenty of traditional Lithuanian recipes. I would be more than happy to prepare candy for us, and I assure you – it will be both healthy and delicious.”

Will rolled his eyes. Of course it would be impossible to get Hannibal to eat some of his Halloween candy, but it was worth a try nevertheless. What they would probably never find out is that Will butt dialed Frederick Chilton and their innocent conversation about candy sounded like something completely different taken out of context. It was rather fortunate that they wouldn’t, because while Hannibal derived a certain degree of entertainment from purposefully misleading and manipulating his friend into believing something that was not necessarily true, secretly listening to private conversations was nothing but an unforgivable faux pas.

After spending over an hour at Will’s place and talking about all sorts of insignificant topics, while vigorously avoid talking about them and the whole fake-dating deal, Hannibal announced he intended to leave. Will lead his way to the front door, opened it for him, and breathed in the smell of cologne coming from the other man when he passed by him.

A tense and hesitant pause between them.  

Hannibal’s eyes searched swiftly all across Will’s face before speaking. “I will see you around, Will.”

“Yeah, see you… around,” he agreed, nodding.

It felt like both had more to say, but none of them knew how to say it. Hannibal eventually walked away and Will watched him – almost longingly – as he entered the car and drove off. He then came back inside, closing the door behind him, and looked around, as if the familiar surrounding was suddenly alien without Hannibal in it. He sighed long and deeply, and a bright grin spread across his face.

Beverly sighed. She was at her working desk, trying to put the pieces of particularly tricky case together – so tricky that it obsessed her past the working hours – when Will came knocking on her door. He told her everything about their first meeting and their slow dance. He told her about Hannibal visiting that morning, and how they decided to keep each other’s phone. About Hannibal’s clothes and how perfectly they fit him – “I bet he has a tailor.” – and about his lips.

“His lips?” Beverly asked, wondering how their conversation drifted away that much.

“They look strange at first, but on a closer, you notice they blend in with the rest of his features so beautifully.”

Will stopped, realizing at that point he was more enthusiastic about Hannibal that he would have liked to admit. 

“You should ask him out,” Beverly suggested, admiring the awestruck look on her friend’s face when he talked about – “he’s not my boyfriend, Beverly” – Hannibal.

“But where would we go?”

“Do it!”

“What if he will say no?”

“Will, just do it.”

“Maybe he’s married. I never asked if he’s married. Should I have asked?”

“He’s not married, Will. He likes you and you like him. Going on dates is what normal people do in these cases.”

Will frowned. “I can’t afford a dinner worthy of what he is used to,” he whispered with downcast eyes.

“You don’t have to go to a fancy restaurant,” Beverly assured. “There’s a fair in town these days. You two could go there.”

He looked up at Beverly, hope rekindled in his eyes. “You think he’d like that?”

“I think he’d like anything as long as you’re involved.”

“Uh, hey… I didn’t see you,” Will said, with a nervous smile.

“It looked as if you ran away precisely because you saw me,” Hannibal pointed out.

Will started fidgeting, unsure how to respond. Was he supposed to carry on with his lie? Or admit the truth that he was nervous about their date? Either way, it was an embarrassing situation, and he suddenly felt like going on a date was a terribly bad idea. Maybe it was too soon. They should have talked more to get to know each other better. But how do you get to know someone better if not by going out with them? But maybe he shouldn’t have called it a date, maybe just hanging out, as friends, or as acquaintances or–

“Will…” 

The air was cold, but Will felt like his skin was burning up when Hannibal grabbed his hand.

“Please stop worrying so much.”

The brightly colored lights were reflecting in Hannibal’s eyes, trembling playfully.

“I want you be relaxed in my presence and enjoy this evening.”

The corners of his lips – “so strange-looking, but so beautiful” – moved into the curve of a warmhearted smile.

“I think you are beautiful and magnificent, and nothing you could say or do will ever change that.”

Hannibal’s intense gaze drifted down to Will’s lips and his heart skipped a beat when it looked like Hannibal was going to lean in for a kiss. But instead, he offered the elegant bouquet he was holding. Will accepted it and smiled gratefully.

“The cold will make them wither,” he said, smelling the exotic flowers that he couldn’t quite name or even recognize.

“Where does the beauty of a flower lie if not in its ephemeral nature?”

“A flower can live for a long time and still remain beautiful.”

Maybe he wasn’t the best at talking about beauty and elegance and aesthetics, but Will felt like he had to counterattack Hannibal’s unnecessary dramatism somehow.

“If the purpose of flowers is to amplify the beauty of the environment, then these flowers did just that, because they look pale while being next to you.”

Will started laughing. Hannibal’s way of wrapping up simple compliments in a pretentious manner was almost ridiculous, but Will enjoyed every bit of it.

They both agreed to leave the flowers in Hannibal’s car, and passed through the formally-placed iron gates at the entrance. It was already dark outside, but lights of all sizes and colors were shining from lamps, garlands, crowded stands, and loud rides, creating a fun and jolly atmosphere. Although too noisy and inelegant for Hannibal’s usual taste, he couldn’t have imagined a better way to spend the day than being there with Will.

“You’ve never had cotton candy?”

Will was genuinely surprised. He lived under the impression that every person – at a point or another during their lifetime – tried cotton candy. But apparently Hannibal hasn’t. That had to be fixed.

“Cotton candy is a special sort of candy. You’re gonna love it,” Will said as he bought some for the both of them.

Hannibal was holding the thin stick with two fingers, almost disgusted to touch it, and after more persuasion coming from Will, he eventually decided to give in and try a little bit. 

“Never have I thought this day would come,” Hannibal confessed before burying his face in the pink mass of sugar.

“No, hold on!” Will tried to stop him, but it was already too late. The sugar inevitably stuck all over Hannibal’s face, his eyelashes, his eyebrows, his hair.

“Will,” he started, with the most serious tone someone with cotton candy all over their face could ever have. “Is this supposed to happen?”   

Will tried not to laugh; he really tried. But the sight was too much for him and he cracked up. Hannibal looked both confused and irritated.

“This is not funny, Will.”

“You should see yourself.  You’d laugh too. Let’s clean you up now.”

Hannibal followed Will through the crowd until they reached a public bathroom. His glance drifted across the mirror, and upon seeing his reflection, he couldn’t help himself and left out a giggle.

“Perhaps it is a little bit amusing,” he admitted. "It feels like a tasted a cloud. An artificially flavored cloud, but still a cloud."

Will took a wet towel and gently cleaned the cotton candy off Hannibal. They were close to each other and Hannibal’s clean-shaven face had a distinct, yet discreet smell of cologne. It was pleasant, almost inviting. Will noticed Hannibal was watching him carefully, and not only because he was most likely disarranging his neat hair; in fact, Hannibal didn’t even react to that. There was a warm sparkle in his eyes reminding Will of the night they first met.

They both turned their heads into the direction of the door when someone stumbled in loudly.

“Frederick?”

“Franklyn?!”

Hannibal and Will exchanged a quick and bewildered look as Franklyn Froideveaux and Frederick Chilton were both standing in front of them. Faded screams and sounds were coming from outside, but the bathroom was wrapped up in a tense stillness.

“This is not what it looks like!” Franklyn spoke first, visibly uncomfortable.

“This is exactly what it looks like,” Frederick countered.

Franklyn leaned in closer to Chilton. “Don’t say that in front of them,” he whispered, loud enough for Hannibal and Will to hear it clearly.

“Why wouldn’t I? Are you ashamed to be seen with me?”

Frederick’s whispering wasn’t any quieter, and Hannibal and Will let them finish their conversation without interfering.

“No! Of course not! But maybe you are ashamed of being seen with me.”

“Franklyn, I’m not going to have this conversation in a public bathroom after you’ve spilled mulled wine all over me.”

“It was an accident!”

“Yes, I know. The point is that I’m not presentable enough to have this conversation.”

“You’re just avoiding this topic, aren’t you?”

“No, I’m not! But–“

 Frederick stopped when a particularly loud person entered the bathroom.

“Excuse me,” Will yelled after them. “They’re having a moment here!”

“Please be quiet,” Hannibal added, joining Will.

The person nodded and left in silence, and Will gestured a “you may continue” for Franklyn and Frederick.

“I’m not ashamed to be seen with you in public, Franklyn,” Chilton assured, no longer trying to whisper.

“Then why do you need to be presentable to talk about this?”

“Because it’s an important milestone in the development of our relationship.”

Hannibal gasped when hearing Frederick’s words, and Will had to punch him slightly to make him shut up.

“We are… in a relationship?”

“Well…” Frederick glanced quickly at Hannibal, and continued after a nod of approval coming from him. “That would be the appropriate term, yes.”

Franklyn smiled broadly, finally convinced that Frederick wasn’t embarrassed to be seen with him.

“Aww! You guys,” Will cooed. “You’re adorable.”

Franklyn and Frederick left, and Will and Hannibal decided to go on a last ride on the Ferris wheel.

The cold air was wafting past them as the giant wheel was slowly spinning around, moving them up and down. They were on top when Hannibal grabbed Will’s side of the face in his hand, tenderly brushing his thumb over Will’s cold cheek. Will leaned in closer, bending his head slightly, and parted his lips. The space left between them was so narrow that they could feel each other’s warm breaths.

“What do you want, Hannibal?” Bedelia asked, irritated, when Hannibal knocked on her door and insisted to come in. It was already late at night, and she was wearing just a thin robe, preparing to go to sleep.

“Bedelia,” Hannibal started, with sobriety. “I sincerely hope this will not cause you distress or disrupt your emotional or mental well-being, but I would like us to interrupt our relationship.”

Bedelia gave a grimace of amusement. “Distress me? Disrupt my well-being?” she repeated, almost mockingly, and then chuckled lightly. “Hannibal, you’re still my patient only because I ask you for three times the price per hour that I ask everyone else. You’ve never noticed that because you’re so self-absorbed you would pay any amount of money just to talk about yourself. You don’t even need a psychiatrist; you merely need someone to listen to you for hours without dozing off.”

“Which you haven’t done so successfully,” Hannibal pointed out.

“Must I remind you how difficult of a task it is?”

“You must not. However, this is not the relationship I would like to cease.”

“I know, and I gladly concur.”

Hannibal raised his eyebrows. “Is this about Anthony Dimmond? Is he aware of your… addiction?”

Bedelia smiled, but her eyes flashed with vexation. “Yes,” she answered softly. “Anthony understands the much needed cathartic effect of alcohol. Is this about Will Graham?”

“Yes. Will Graham helped me discover emotions within myself that I thought were long dead.”

“Very well,” Bedelia said distractedly, checking the time. “Now, I’m afraid you must leave.”

“I want to talk about Will Graham more.”

“And I really need my sleep before being able to deal with this.”

She opened the door for Hannibal to leave.

“I will pay double for just one hour,” he offered.

“Hannibal, this is not about money. This is about my sanity.”

Bedelia guided him with a gentle, yet firm hand out through the door.

“Goodnight,” she concluded, and closed the door, leaving Hannibal upset and disappointed.

Chapter Text

A snow flurry was falling form the dusking winter sky, and the growing evening was threatening to engulf everything in darkness. There was no wind, but the air was crisp and icy, and Will could feel his face and hands turning red from the cold. He was holding Shirley in his arms, petting her fur as the dog would whimper from time to time, and impatiently pacing back and forth in front of his house when Frederick and Franklyn finally arrived. He rushed to the car – a brand Will couldn’t quite name, burgundy in color, classy and sophisticated – and stopped for a second and frowned, wondering if all Hannibal’s acquaintances and friends drove luxury cars. He hopped in quickly, perhaps too quickly and heedlessly, judging by the wince that came from Frederick when Will shut the door loudly.

“Please hurry up. It’s urgent,” Will pleaded as soon as he was settled with Shirley in the back seat.

Frederick fixed the rear mirror, with agonizingly slow and deliberate movements, before finally speaking.

“Okay, before we do this, we must discuss and establish a set of rules. First of all–” He stopped, noticing that both Franklyn and Will were throwing piercing and judgmental gazes at him. “Fine, just don’t let the dog pee in my car,” he relented with a grunt of dissatisfaction, and started the car.

A few days before, the vet had discovered some complications in Shirley’s pregnancy and had announced Will that they’d have to perform a C-section on her to avoid putting her or her puppies’ life at risk. Hannibal had agreed to pick Will up and be there with him during Shirley’s surgery. “I understand how important it is for you and I would be more than happy to be there with you,” he told Will, and Will believed him. Of course he did; he had no reason not to. But when the day came, Hannibal stopped responding to Will’s calls and messages altogether, and Will couldn’t imagine what was so important that suddenly stopped him from keeping his promise. He was angry, but above all else, there was the feeling of betrayal that bothered him the most. They’ve known each other for about a month – arguably a short period of time to fully know a person – but he felt like he could wholeheartedly put his trust in him. Will wasn’t just upset with Hannibal; he was upset with himself too, even more so. Upset because it took so little to invest himself emotionally in a man who was – theoretically – still a stranger. But practically, Will felt as if they’ve known each other for years, for a life time, as if they belong together, two sides of the same coin. And again, that was terribly disconcerting. Because it was wrong, and Will couldn’t help but berate himself for his own naivety and foolishness. He felt like a thoughtless teen falling in love with the wrong person. Except he wasn’t a teen anymore and… Will sighed. He wished he could say he wasn’t in love with Hannibal Lecter.

“We are writing a book,” Franklyn’s giddy voice broke the silence. “Frederick and I,” he explained further when met with Will’s confused gaze.

“Ah,” Will let out, absentmindedly, and Franklyn continued to talk, sharing details about their book – a cooking one – and that he was excited to help write it and research recipes. According to him and Frederick, its novelty lay in the fact that they were going to include bits of fashion advice to go with each recipe.

“Fashion advice… for food?” Will asked, unsure if he understood correctly.

“For the cook, of course!” Frederick answered with a nuance of impatience, as if it was obvious what the fashion tips were for in a cooking book. 

Sensing it would start an avalanche of details he didn’t necessarily care to listen to, Will decided not to ask any further questions about their book. He was just glad that Franklyn got along with Frederick so well and that they found some common interests.

For the rest of the car ride, Will just listened to their chit-chat and discussion about the living room drapes – Frederick insisted on a shade of bisque, while Franklyn preferred a burlywood, Frederick fancied damask, and Franklyn wanted paisley, Frederick proposed velveteen, but Franklyn was partial to velvet. And so Will told himself walking might not have been such a bad idea.

Their conversation went on and on, and from what Will had gathered, Frederick and Franklyn had solid plans of moving together, and although he wondered if it wasn’t perhaps a little bit too fast, he didn’t say anything about it. After all, he had the feeling he moved too fast too, and he was the one to make plans with Hannibal and have them shattered, not Frederick or Franklyn.

“Trouble in Paradise?” Frederick asked at a stoplight, throwing a quick glance at Will through the rear mirror.

His question was direct, but had the tone of a sneaky gossip, and even though he may have meant well, it still sounded to Will as if Frederick was looking for a loophole to exploit. Perhaps that was just his way of being, Will told himself. He didn’t seem to at any different with Franklyn, or Hannibal, for that matter

“Fred,” Franklyn warned shortly, and Will noted with surprise that he could sound authoritarian too. Frederick complied and returned to their talk about drapes and cutlery and stoves.

After an uncomfortably long ride through the city – Frederick was driving slower than anyone else Will had seen before – they final arrived at the veterinary clinic and Will hurried to get in with Shirley.

“Are you sure you don’t want us to stay with you?” Franklyn asked, kind and eager to help, like always.

“No, thank you,” Will answered with a half-smile. “You’ve already done enough.”

“Yes, we have,” Frederick agreed, and mimicked a little bow before grabbing Franklyn’s arm and turning around.

“That’s not nice, Fred,” the other scolded.

“What are you talking about? It’s the truth! Who else would have let him enter the car with a dog?”

“It doesn’t cost you anything to be nice.”

“It costs me time, my dear.”

“Time you would spend picking a tie.”

“That’s precisely how I want to spend my time.”

Will watched them as they entered the car and continued their conversation. Franklyn waved goodbye from inside, and Will turned around to face the building. He looked up. A large neon sign with the clinic’s name and logo was flickering in bright red and green colors above the main entrance. He inhaled and exhaled slowly, kissed Shirley’s head, and pushed the glass door to enter.

With slow and languid steps, Bedelia du Maurier walked from her seat to the hardwood wine cabinet. Her gaze traveled from bottle to bottle until she found the one she was looking for – a Pinot Noir Rosé. She poured two glasses, one for her and one for Hannibal Lecter, who pestered her with calls all morning, asking – begging – for a two-hour psychiatric session so he could discuss his newly found feelings for Will Graham. Initially planned later in the evening, Hannibal’s appointment was rescheduled, partially due to his insistencies and impatience. And so it overlapped with Shirley’s vet appointment, and, without even realizing, Hannibal got so lost in talking about Will that he forgot about… Will.

As soon as Bedelia laid the two glasses down on the table between them, Hannibal started talking, eager to share his inner turmoil.

“Will Graham has awoken feelings within me that I had thought were long dead,” he started.

“Feelings that you denied yourself or that you, perhaps, simply chose to ignore?”

“A combination of both, in varying degrees,” Hannibal answered after a moment of deliberation. “But the feelings I have for Will cannot be denied or ignored.”

Bedelia took a long sip out of her glass, allowing the taste of wine to spread warmly on her palate and down her throat. She blinked lazily before continuing playing the psychiatrist role with Hannibal, a role that has proven to be severely predictable, as Hannibal’s life, although  pompous  and culturally rich, was always revolving around the same basic issues in a dull repetition. “Does he make you feel young again?” she finally asked.

Hannibal raised his eyebrows, slightly surprised to hear Bedelia bringing the age matter into discussion. She knew – or at least Hannibal assumed she should have known – that it was a sensitive topic for him.

“Well?” she insisted when Hannibal’s answer failed to leave his slightly parted lips.

“He makes me feel ageless,” he eventually replied, with a little bit too much defiance than necessary, a tone he knew Bedelia would easily pick up and exploit.

“Remind me again, why is Will Graham a problem for you?”

“He is not.”

“Then why don’t we do each other a favor and stop discussing this topic?”

Hannibal frowned slightly. “Because, while he is not a problem, his mere existence and my being aware of it did cause me problems.”

“Hannibal, you’re in love with Will Graham,” Bedelia asserted impatiently, almost irritated by how obvious it was, but also just a little bit amused that Hannibal Lecter, the retired psychiatrist, the man of culture and introspection, had such a hard time reading and making sense out of his own feelings.

“It is not that simple,” Hannibal protested in a rather futile attempt to deflect the conversation.

“It is that simple, and accepting this would greatly improve your life quality and, I might add, mine as well.”

Hannibal nodded silently. Bedelia was right: he was in love with Will, but the realization was not so easy to accept after he had given up on seeking romance a very long time ago. And yet, there he was, all moonstruck because of Will. Love really did come from the most unexpected places, and a scruffy mechanic with a pack of dogs was no exception.

“Dogs,” Hannibal whispered with a sudden expression of terror and realization spreading on his face. He got up from his seat and checked his watch.

Bedelia was looking at him with intrigue. “Dogs?” she asked, not fully convinced she had heard that correctly.

“I forgot about Will’s dog,” Hannibal explained, and without waiting a reaction from Bedelia, he grabbed his coat and headed for the door.

“You’ll still have to pay for two hours.”

The door slammed and Bedelia stood still for a moment, before reaching for the bottle of wine. “Godspeed,” she whispered against her refilled glass, and closed her eyes, content with the silence that had settled in.

Hannibal was driving to the veterinary clinic he knew he would find Will at, and desperately trying to get in touch with him. He called multiple times and sent text messages, but Will refused to reply. He realized how bad Will must have felt when he didn’t respond to the other’s attempts of getting in contact. He felt terribly guilty for having forgotten about his promise of taking Will and Shirley to the vet and wished he could fix it somehow.

When he finally arrived and burst in through the door, Hannibal started looking around immediately. The waiting room was warm and welcoming, with yellow-tiles floor, green carpets, and walls covered in photos of pets, informational posters about animals, and announcements of all sorts. There was a large fish tank in the middle of the room, with clear water and bright-colored little fish swimming around swiftly. A few persons were waiting on a bench and Hannibal quickly scanned them with his sight, but couldn’t spot Will.

He looked around him hopelessly, unsure what to do next, when a door opened and he saw Will entering the waiting room, while holding a large transport basket for dogs and talking to whom he presumed to be the veterinarian. Next to them was Beverly Katz. Noticing Hannibal, she quickly paced to him and pulled him to the side.

“This is not a good moment to be here,” she said in a low voice, hoping Will wouldn’t notice Hannibal being there.

“I realized I had forgotten about the appointment and I came here as quickly as I could,” Hannibal tried to excuse himself.

“Okay, but please leave Will alone for now.”

She tried to push him towards the door and convince him to leave, but Hannibal kept turning around and protesting.

“I just want him to know that I’m terribly sorry.”

“I’ll tell him that. Now let things cool off for a while before you make it worse.”

“It was never my intention to upset Will.”

“Yes, great. But now get out of here before he sees you.”

“Why would I? I want Will to see me and see how regretful I am.”

“Well, isn’t that lovely? Now move out of here.”

Beverly almost managed to push Hannibal out through the door when Will’s voice reached out to them and made them both freeze.

“Hannibal?” he called, frowning.

“Will!” Hannibal’s face was bright that Will finally talked to him, but at the same time dark with sorrow. “Will, I am so sorry, but please listen to me.”

Beverly stepped away as the approached each other.

“I have nothing to say to you,” Will muttered.

“I was with my psychiatrist, talking about you and I,” Hannibal tried to explain, but Will walked past him and towards the door.

“Then your psychiatrist will be able to help you get over this,” he said, without turning around.

Will’s mean words hit Hannibal like a cold snowball in the face, and he shuddered. He looked over to Beverly, searching for some kind of support from her, but she just shrugged in a helpless gesture, as she couldn’t do anything about it either. They both left and Hannibal watched them entering Beverly’s car through the glass door.

When he thought that day couldn’t get any worse and he couldn’t feel any more miserable, a sudden warm feeling started spreading on his lower leg and a high-pitched voice reached him.

“Fifi, no! Don’t pee on mister, Fifi!”

The next few days passed by quickly for both Hannibal and Will. Although he could have been free, Hannibal volunteered to work during the holiday season at the museum. Between curating a torture devices exhibition and making preparations for Christmas, he almost didn’t notice the time going by. He missed Will. He missed talking to him, instead of sending countless messages and receiving no answer, but he had a plan to make Will forgive him and he was confident it would work.

On the other side, Will had Shirley’s puppies and all the other dogs to look after. And although there were only four puppies, they needed a lot of attention and care, and that proved to be very time-consuming. But Will didn’t mind it at all. He was happy they were all healthy and fine and that he could spend time with them. He missed Hannibal too, and sometimes he found himself instinctively typing out responses to his messages, only to have to delete them afterwards. He knew Hannibal would eventually stop and they would both just move on with their lives like nothing had happened between them.

Christmas Eve rolled by, and although Will didn’t have any special plans, he felt lonely, and wished he could spend the day with his friends. He called Beverly.

“Uh hey,” she finally answered when Will was about to end the call.

“Hey, Bev. Do you wanna go out somewhere?”

“I’m, uh, caught up with something right now.”

Will frowned. Something sounded off with Beverly. “Okaaay, but what about later?”

“I’m not sure if I can…” She paused and shouted something off phone. “Sorry, Will. I’ll have to call you later.”

“Is there something wrong?” Will asked, his concern growing.

“No, no, it’s all fine. Oh my god, take that off before it tears apart!”

“What?”

“Sorry, sorry, I have to go now. I’ll see you later, Will.”

Will stared at his phone for a few seconds, unsure what on earth had just happened. He tried to call Jimmy and Brian too but none of them answered. He eventually gave up, sad and upset that even his best friends were ditching him.

It was 4 pm and already getting dark outside when Will took a shower and changed into pajamas. He was going to spend the afternoon watching TV and eating pizza.

“Screw you guys,” he whispered under his breath when seeing Beverly, Jimmy, and Brian all had called while he was in the bathroom.

He was upset with anyone and everyone, and had no intentions of calling them back, when a loud and rather discordant singing came from outside. Startled, he rushed to open the front door to reveal no less than ten persons standing in front of his house in a line, singing “Deck The Halls” joyously. They were all wearing Santa hats and reindeer antlers. The first one Will saw was Hannibal, smiling with humbleness at him. He was carrying two large paper bags. Next to him was Beverly, with a beautifully wrapped up present. Then a blonde woman and a man Will didn’t recognize holding a half empty bottle of wine, two of champagne, and a few branches of mistletoe. Franklyn and Frederick were next in line, with various Christmas decorations and a tiny plastic tree. Franklyn waved happily at Will and Will waved back, bewildered. Next to them there were other two women Will didn’t recognize, one holding a sled, and the other fireworks and balloons. And finally, there were Jimmy and Brian, each holding an end of a glittery banner saying “Please forgive Cannibal, Will!” with a paper “H” lousily glued on top of the “C”.

Will covered his face with both hands and shook his head in disbelief. He was grinning brighter than ever, he was laughing, he was shouting things like “You guys are crazy!”, “You assholes left me alone the hole day!” and “You’re the best friends I ever had!”, and when Hannibal set his bags aside and approached Will, he felt like he could cry too – out of happiness, and frustration, and anger, all of them bottled up and ready to blow.

“I forgive you,” Will whispered when Hannibal got close to him, and wrapped his arms around the other’s neck. At the same time, Hannibal grabbed his waist and pulled him close, nuzzling his neck. They stood like that for a seconds, before a wave of applause and cheering came from the others, and they pull apart from the embrace, but Hannibal kept his arm around Will’s shoulder, and Will kept his arm around Hannibal’s waist.

“Come on in,” Will shouted and they all entered his little house. After all, it was going to be a great Christmas.

After everyone introduced themselves to Will, they first set up the tiny Christmas tree Frederick and Franklyn had brought and decorated it and the whole house with globes and lights and mistletoe. Then, they all went outside to play in the snow while there was still some light. Bedelia, Frederick, and Franklyn made snowmen together, Beverly, Alana, and Margot made snow angels and helped pick the frozen snow out of each other’s hair, while Will, Hannibal, Anthony, Jimmy, and Brian started a snowball fight. Hannibal and Anthony were on the same team, and although they were outnumbered by one, they handled the fight admirably. They found a small hill and took turns with the sled too.

Incidentally or not, Will would often find himself falling on top of Hannibal, as well as beneath him. Whenever it happened, they would linger a few more moments, giggling like little kids or staring into each other’s eyes before getting up and continuing the fight. Their faces and hands were red from the cold, but they moved around so much that they couldn’t feel it. Will was happy, and all the anger and frustration from the past few days washed away from him, leaving him jolly and willing to spend the Christmas with old and new friends alike.

They went back inside and while everyone was warming up around the fireplace, Will opened up his gift. It was a set of sweaters for all his dogs, every one embroidered with the dogs’ names, including four tiny ones for Shiley’s puppies.

“They’re perfect,” Will cooed, a warm smile spread across his face.

“Sorry about Winston’s one,” Beverly said, throwing a displeased gaze at Jimmy. “Jimmy insisted to try it on and it might be a bit large now.”

Fortunately, it wasn’t. They all fit the dogs perfectly, and Will couldn’t even imagine a better Christmas present to receive from his friends. He thanked and hugged each one of them, and even placed a quick kiss on Hannibal’s cheek when getting to him. Hannibal brushed his cheek gently over the spot were Will’s lips were and smiled dreamily.

“What are you gonna do with the pups when they grow up?” Beverly asked.

“I’ll keep one,” Will answered. “And I’ll try to find a home for the others. If that doesn’t work out, I guess I’ll need a larger house.” He chuckled slightly.

“We can take out,” Alana suddenly spoke, and looked over to Margot.

She nodded approvingly. “Sure we can.”

“We’ll take one too,” Franklyn joined in. “Can’t we, Fred?”

Frederick hesitated for a moment and Franklyn had to nudge him, but he eventually agreed too.

“You know what? I’ll take one too,” Beverly said excitedly, making Will grin happily.

Next, Hannibal unpacked the ingredients and started cooking dinner for all of them, with Franklyn’s help. Alana and Beverly were playing with the dogs upstairs. Down in the living room, Jimmy, Brian, and Anthony were having what sounded like a burping contest, despite Hannibal’s and Bedelia’s looks of disapproval. The latter, together with Frederick and Margot, were lounging on the sofa, drinking, and discussing haute couture and the latest trends in home décor, bonding over their shared interests.

Will was running around, from one person to the other, enjoying their company and making sure everyone was having a good time. And they were, indeed. The atmosphere was warm and full of laughter, the savory smell of food from Hannibal and Franklyn filling up the air. The dogs were enjoying all the attention and tummy rubs too. Even though Will had thought his family of friends was weird and diverse before, it was getting even weirder as they all gathered together in his little wooden house.

Before dinner they went outside again to set off the fireworks, but because nobody had any idea how to handle them, they ended up with a few underwhelming colorful bursts. They were all in a mood too good to let that ruin their evening, so they went back inside to eat.  

After they had dinner and everyone complimented Hannibal’s and Franklyn’s cooking, they decided to watch a movie and play a drinking game. They put a Santa hat on the corner of the TV and the rule was that they had to drink whenever a character would “wear” the hat. Except for Beverly, Alana, Frederick, and Anthony, who were the designed drivers, everyone joined in, even Hannibal. However, it turned out to be a rather bad idea for him as he quickly got tipsy – before anyone else – and then downright drunk by the end of the movie. When he fell asleep on the couch, Jimmy and Brian insisted on drawing on his face and hands, but Will didn’t allow them, resulting in them calling him a “party pooper” and “killjoy”.

It was almost midnight when they started leaving – first Bedelia and Anthony, then Margot and Alana, and then Frederick and Franklyn. Since Hannibal was in no condition to be sent home alone, Will decided it would be better if he stayed at his place overnight. He was sure Hannibal wouldn’t mind.

“I’m sorry for acting weird today,” Beverly apologized before leaving with Jimmy and Brian. “We’ve been planning this for a while and things got crazy.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Will assured, and hugged her tightly. “And thank you, Bev. You’re the best.”

“I know,” she whispered, making Will chuckle.

After they had left too, Will returned inside to see Hannibal was awake. He was all giddy and dizzy, not being able to stand on his own, but blabbering all sorts of intelligible things. Will found it endearing to see him like that.

“Come on, let’s get you to bed,” he said, grabbing Hannibal from under the shoulder and helping him walk upstairs.

Hannibal was cooperative the first few steps, and then he stopped and looked Will dead in the eye. After a few moments of silence, during which Will was wondering what was going on in drunken Hannibal’s mind, he burst out singing “All I Want for Christmas Is You” and Will started laughing hysterically. It was the last thing he had expected to hear from Hannibal, and it couldn’t be counted as anything less than a Christmas miracle.

They eventually reached the bedroom and Hannibal dropped heavily on bed.

“All I want for Christmas is you, Will,” he said once again.

Will smiled fondly and sat on bed next to him.

“I guess you won’t remember any of this tomorrow,” he whispered, more to himself than to Hannibal. “I’m sorry if I overreacted, but you were an asshole and you hurt me. I forgive you, and I promise I’ll try to listen to you from now on, instead of ignoring your calls and messages.”

Hannibal gave the impression that he was listening, though Will wasn’t sure if he was lucid enough to understand.

“Will?” he called out.

Will turned his face towards him. “Yes?”

“I love you, Will,” Hannibal said with an affectionate smile, small tears gathering themselves at the corner of his eyes, and lifted himself slightly, just enough so he could press his lips onto the other’s, warm, tender, and smelling like roasted turkey and alcohol.

Although slightly surprised at first, Will quickly adjusted his position so he could answer Hannibal’s kiss. “Merry Christmas, Hannibal,” he whispered against his lips.

Hannibal pulled away and settled his head on Will’s lap, falling asleep almost instantly. Will ran his fingers through Hannibal’s hair and grabbed one of his hands, intertwining their fingers. He could feel the other’s warm body pressed against his own and his steady and tired breathing. Will closed his eyes and thanked whatever deity brought them together. It has truly been a magic Christmas.

Chapter Text

Morning settled in slowly with its usual winter sun rays, shining bright on the snow outside and reflecting back inside. But for Hannibal Lecter, that morning was anything but usual. When he opened his eyes briefly, a striking headache made him close them again before he could even start questioning the unfamiliar sight of wooden ceiling and walls. There was the vague awareness that something of great significance had happened or was about to happen, but Hannibal couldn’t focus for long enough on that train of thought to figure it out.

He kept slipping back and forth between being asleep and being awake for a few minutes, feeling gentle movements around him, but he was too tired and too burdened by the heavy headache to be able to react in any way. What made him wake up for good was a strange, new feeling – wet and warm and ticklish. It started from his feet, then rose up to his leg, quickly passed by his hand, and stopped on his face. For a moment, all Hannibal could see when he opened his eyes was a blurry mass of brown fur and a wet tongue licking his face.  He drew back instinctively and let out a shriek of horror he knew he would later regret before it had even finished leaving his lips.

“Easy, there!” Will’s hoarse morning voice reached out to him. “Hannibal, it’s okay.”

But Hannibal was not convinced just yet. He looked around him with a confused frown that Will found terribly endearing. He recognized Will’s dogs – or at least some of them – sitting on his bed, and to his right side there was Will himself, smiling patiently. He looked more exhausted that Hannibal had ever seen him before, and though he wasn’t fully awake yet, he could guess it was because of him.

“You’ve just met Winston,” Will announced, pointing at the dog that was still sniffing Hannibal from a safe distance.  “It’s as good as introducing you to my parents,” he added with a short chuckle.

Hannibal smiled back at him and he could easily tell that Will referring to his dogs as his family was not just a joke, but something firmly grounded in truth.

"It appears I am part of the pack now," he said while trying to get up from bed, but only managing to drag a strained grunt out of himself.

"Take it easy."

Will's voice was warm and calm and soothing, and Hannibal thought it was the kind of sweet sound he had always wanted to wake up to. He looked up to the other man. Although showing signs of tiredness, his face was still bright and lively, and Hannibal decided there was no need to try to contain the big smile waiting to spread on his face.

"You, um, got drunk last night," Will started explaining after he had figured Hannibal's memory of the previous night might have been lacking some important pieces. "I carried you to bed and you fell asleep on my lap."

Hannibal nodded, listening in silence. Will purposefully avoided reminding him of the actual important part of the story, but he didn't need to because that much Hannibal could remember.

"Will, did I..." He stopped, unsure whether it was something Will would want to talk about or not. He swallowed and let his sight drift down, as if waiting for some sort of divine intervention to continue the conversation in his stead.

"Yes," Will answered shortly, without waiting for Hannibal to find his words. They both knew and remembered it all too clearly, but none of them was sure if the other was ready to talk about it.

"I'm sorry if I overstepped any boundaries," Hannibal apologized – sincerely, Will could tell. He carefully folded his hands on his lap, now resting his back against the wall next to Will. Hannibal was facing forwards and avoided looking Will in the eye as he spoke. "I'm well aware being inebriated is no excuse for my crude behavior. I promise I won't let it happen again."

Will deliberated in silence for a few moments, opening his mouth to speak and then closing it back again, weighing words and eventually giving up on coming with a polite and elaborate answer. If they were to become intimate – and sharing the bed for the night was a large step forward on that path – then there would be no need to act overly formal.

"No?" he asked shortly and faced Hannibal.

The latter returned and held his gaze, but didn’t seem to notice the note of playfulness in Will’s voice.

"I have clearly overestimated my ability of maintaining my composure when inebriated. No, it will not happen again – I assure you."

Will made a face and shrugged. "That's a shame."

Hannibal bent his head a little, as if asking for clarification.

"Because I wish you'd kiss me again," Will continued, and Hannibal's pupils suddenly widened and his breath caught in his throat.

There weren't many ways one could surprise Hannibal Lecter. And there were almost no ways one could leave him speechless. But Will Graham managed to do just that. He sat there frozen with a blank stare for so long that Will actually started worrying.

"Did I, did I say something wrong?" he asked, frowning and shifting his position in bed.

"No," Hannibal quickly replied. "You did not say anything wrong."

Will watched him perplexed for a few more moments before getting up from bed. He wasn't sure if that was the reaction he had anticipated from Hannibal. It certainly was a reaction, so at least there was that.

He pointed downstairs. "Breakfast?"

Hannibal raised his head suddenly, as if snapped out of a dream.

"Breakfast would be lovely. Thank you."

"You can stay here and I'll bring you something."

"And leave you alone to do all the work?"

He got up from bed, making the mattress creak loudly, causing a collective growl of disapproval to rise from Will’s dogs, and quickly adjusted his clothes. Once again, he was the Hannibal will had met a few weeks ago on Halloween night, and not the flustered and confused one from earlier. Will could only be honest with himself and admit that both versions of the same man were equally attractive, loveable even.

"You just don't trust me enough to cook for you," Will teased with a sly grin.

This time Hannibal caught that glimpse of playfulness. He put a firm but gentle hand on Will’s back that made the latter feel shivers spreading all over his skin and piercing warmth where Hannibal’s palm and fingers touched the fabric of his shirt. It was absurd to react in such a way, Will told himself. Hannibal had touched him before, but it was not getting any less intense or any less overwhelming or any less mind-blowingly right. And when Hannibal leaned in closer, Will knew he didn’t want it to.

"I trust you enough to let you help me cook for us."

Will shoved the phone away from him with slightly too much force as it slid across the black kitchen countertop and nearly fell over, dangerously swinging on the edge for a few moments before Hannibal pushed it back to safety with a quick nudge of his hip. He was mixing something in a large bowl with vigorous circular movements at the end of a wooden spoon. His clothes – the same as the previous night – were entirely unsuitable for the apron borrowed from Will. The dark, sober grey of Hannibal’s sweater under the bright red of Will’s apron – complete with a colorful dog paws print and the text “The answer is simple: I choose the dog” in the middle – would have normally been hilarious to Will, picture-taking worthy even, but the element of hilarity seemed to escape both of them.

After they had finished cooking, they settled down to eat breakfast on Will’s couch because his house didn’t allow enough space for a proper dining table. The arrangement would have upset Hannibal on a different day, but on that day he was with Will and not much else mattered. Not even the leftover food crumbs, the dog hair sticking to his clothes, or the fact that Will had insisted on using plastic cutlery “because we don’t have to wash it afterwards and it’s easier this way.”

At one end of the couch, Will had his legs bent under him and was lying askew, munching with gusto out of his plate. At the other end, Hannibal was sitting with his back perfectly straight and both feet firmly planted on the floor, eating slowly and taking the time to enjoy each bite. Will finished first and offered Hannibal a drink, but the latter refused as he had to drive back home, so Will just settled for having a beer himself and turning on the TV. This again would have normally bothered Hannibal, but Will wasn’t anything if not a perpetual departure from all of Hannibal’s sets of rules. 

When Hannibal finished eating too, he took the plates to the sink and lay down back on the couch next to Will. The younger man was laughing at a TV show about pets on Animal Planet when he noticed Hannibal’s stare on him, as if he had something to say.

“Yes?” Will inquired, lowering the TV volume and focusing his attention on the other as well.

Hannibal let a little smile spread on his face and reached out to grab Will’s hand, gently pressing it between his own.

“I will be attending a New Year Eve’s party in a couple of days,” he began and Will listened carefully, with eyes wide open and lips slightly parted. “I would be honored if you agreed to accompany me, Will.”

Will frowned and his first instinct was to retract his hand from Hannibal’s soft grasp, but instead he resisted the urge lest it offend Hannibal. He felt taken aback by the other man’s proposal. Being invited to Hannibal’s party along with his friends was one thing, but accompanying Hannibal to someone else’s party as his date was a complete new level for their relationship, and Will wasn’t entirely sure if this was the pace with which he would  have liked it to advance. They went from being complete strangers and unaware of each other’s existence to sharing a bed and having breakfast together in a matter of weeks. And on top of that, Hannibal wanted them to attend a party together, and implicitly expose their relationship for the world to see. That thought was intimidating, scary even, but staring at Hannibal and the love-struck expression on his face, with their hands still touching, Will could not say no.

Yet… Will could not say yes either.

“I, I don’t think I would be good company,” he eventually spoke after intense deliberation.

Instead of being decisive about it, his words sounded more like a question. He even raised his eyes to meet Hannibal’s, searching for some kind of approval or disapproval, anything that could help him land on a decision. Nothing of that sort came from Hannibal, only further heartwarming smiles and endearing gazes.

“Your company is most exquisite. I can hardly imagine a better way to spend the passing between years other than being in your presence. But if attending a party would bring you discomfort, then we don’t have to do it.”

“We don’t have to do it,” Will repeated for himself and this time it was clear that for Hannibal, it was more important to spend time celebrating with him rather than attend a party.

That thought alone was enough for Will to make up his mind.

“Okay,” Will said, bobbing his head and smiling at Hannibal. “Okay, I’ll do it. I’ll go with you.”

Hannibal’s smile became even wider as he pulled Will slightly closer to him. Will could have sworn they were going to kiss again when Hannibal’s fingers softly brushed against his cheek and his eyelids fell shut. But instead of the anticipated kiss, Buster jumped onto Hannibal’s lap, making the latter yelp in a way that – Will came to realize that morning – was not entirely uncharacteristic for Hannibal.

Appearances were indeed deceiving, but in Hannibal’s case the appearances were downright fraudulent. Never could have Will imagined that the man in the photos Beverly had shown him a few weeks ago would end up screeching in terror when one of his dogs had jumped on him. And all of that was after they had eaten breakfast together using plastic cutlery, and shared a bed. It all felt so surreal to Will, but not in a way that made it unbelievable – just unexpected, amusingly so. The more he thought of it, the stronger his feeling for Hannibal became.

For once, the chaos in Will Graham’s life made sense.

It was not until Will had emerged from the changing booth with a coat inside-out that Hannibal finally asked him to stop. They’ve been out together shopping new clothes for the upcoming party for a few hours now, and Will has been distracted throughout it all, continuously texting or talking on the phone with Beverly.

“You will have to focus if you want us to finish soon, Will.”

Hannibal took the coat off of him and handed it to the shopping assistant who was trying to help them. He smiled apologetically and assured her that would be all for the day.

“I am focused,” Will replied while typing away on his phone and slowly lowering himself on a stool.

“This is not going as planned.”

“Well, then I guess I’ll have to wear one of my old shirts. What a shame.”

Hannibal chose to ignore the sarcasm in Will’s tone, and instead gently grabbed his arm and guided him towards the exit.

“Are we done here?” Will asked, briefly raising his eyes to meet Hannibal’s.

“Yes, we are,” Hannibal answered and smiled in a way that Will mistakenly assumed to be completely genuine.

“Where are we going?”

Will’s question did not come unexpected as he’s been ignoring Hannibal when he had explained that since their shopping session was unsuccessful they were going to visit a tailor. He sighed and started speaking without taking his eyes off the road ahead of them.

“To Mrs. Morgan‘s shop,” he answered flatly. “She has been my tailor for many years and will surely do a wonderful job for you as well.”

“I thought you said we were done with this.”

“Yes, we are done with trying to find something for you in a shop and we will now get you something custom-made.”

Will didn’t reply. He simply let a puff out through his nose and threw his head back to rest against the car seat.

Hannibal glanced at him quickly before returning his focus on driving. Such a beautiful thing Will was, with his pouty expression, almost infantile in its absurd irritation, and his tangled curls bouncing up and down with the road’s bumps. He smiled to himself, feeling the balmy warmth of affection spreading through his chest.

“What are you smiling at?”

Will’s question fell flat when Hannibal took one hand away from the steering wheel in search of Will’s. The latter watched as their fingers intertwined and pressed harder, smiling sheepishly at the sight of their conjoined hands.

Mrs. Morgan’s shop was placed on a narrow street, tucked between a jewelry shop and a book shop, all three seemingly equal in size and equal in their old-fashioned elegance. There were potted plants left and right to the entrance, and large windows showcasing three beautifully tailored – and obviously expensive – suits.

Hannibal held the glass door open for Will to enter first, and the latter took a few unsure steps on the hardwood floor, glancing around him. The luxury was overwhelming; the shop was something Will could have read about or seen on TV, but never had he imagined entering one himself, and moreover, entering one to get a suit made out for him and him only.

“Hello Matilda,” Hannibal greeted jovially, and Will finally noticed the short old lady sitting behind the counter and writing something down.

She was actually older than Will had expected – in her sixties, maybe seventies. Her hair was almost completely white, contrasting with the dark tone of her skin and the bright purple lipstick she was wearing. There was only a slight limp to her walking, betraying her true age as she approached Hannibal with a lively smile.

“Oh, dear,” she cooed, wrapping her thin arms around Hannibal’s neck, and making him lower himself so she could kiss both his cheeks affectionately. “I haven’t seen you in such a long time.”

Will smiled at the scene unfolding before him, only then realizing that he had never seen Hannibal being so close to a friend before. Mrs. Morgan’s behavior towards Hannibal came off as maternal, Will thought, and that only became more obvious as the two engaged in small talk about the recent happenings in Hannibal’s life. He looked around, noticing the rows of ties in various patterns and colors displayed in a cabinet, and the different samples of fabric – some dainty and delicate, others bold and colorful.

“And who is this young man here?” the woman asked, and Will suddenly turned around from the rack of dress shirts he was looking at.

“This is Will Graham,” Hannibal replied before Will had gotten a chance to say anything, gesturing with his arm towards him. “My partner,” he added with a proud smirk, and Will raised his eyebrows in surprise.

“Ah, I understand,” Matilda assured with a sweet and low voice, gently grabbing Hannibal’s forearm with both of her little hands and watching him and Will both, as if mentally trying to place them next to each other. “So tell me, dear. What can I do for you and Mr. Graham?”

“Will,” he stepped in, extending his hand with a little crooked smile on his face. “Please call me Will.”

The woman shook his hand in a soft and delicate gesture, nodding politely.

“We would like a set of formal attire for Will,” Hannibal explained and that seemed to be enough for Matilda, as she quickly fetched a yellow measuring tape and small notebook off her desk and approached Will.

“What for?” she asked while extending Will’s arm in a straight position facing laterally.

“A New Year’s Eve party.”

She hummed and wrote something down, then continued taking Will’s measures systematically. Will tried his best not to hinder the process.

“What will you be wearing?” she questioned again, addressing Hannibal who was watching everything from the side.

“I was thinking about the tuxedo you made for me last November. The one with grosgrain lapels and the black and blue paisley bow tie.”

Matilda frowned for a few seconds. She seemed to be thinking about the tuxedo Hannibal was talking about, trying to remember it. Considering her age and the amount of orders she must have gotten on a daily basis, Will would have been surprised if she had actually managed to remember it. He couldn’t even remember what he’d done the day before.

“Oh, forget that that ugly old thing,” she finally said, waving her hand and nearly hitting Will in the face with her measuring tape. “I’ll make something new for you as well. You two deserve to look nothing less than perfect.”

She smiled fondly at Will, and he smiled back, somewhat embarrassed and uncertain about how he was supposed to act around this tender old lady who seemed to know Hannibal so intimately. Hannibal nodded approvingly at Will, which had a fortunate calming effect on him.

About an hour later, Matilda Morgan finished taking notes about their order and promptly assured them that they would be finished as soon as possible. They left her shop and held hands all the way to Hannibal’s car.

Chapter Text

 “Are you nervous?”

Beverly’s question was rather rhetorical, all things considered. She drove Will to Hannibal’s place, and throughout the whole car ride he’d been fidgeting in his seat.

“Of course not. Why would I be nervous?” he replied, his lips twitching into a brittle smile. “Should I be nervous? I’m just gonna go there, put my suit on, wait until Hannibal comes back, and then we leave together. That’s all, right?”

Beverly didn’t reply. She just let a puff out through her nose and shook her head slightly without taking her eyes off the road.

“Am I missing something here? Beverly, please tell me,” Will insisted.

“Not nervous at all,” she teased, making Will throw a contemptuous sidelong glance in her direction before returning to his previous silence.

They didn’t talk for the rest of the car ride. Beverly wished him a good time once they’d arrived, and placed a loving peck on Will’s cheek. The latter sighed and left the car.

Of course it’s a fucking penthouse, Will told himself as he slid the key into the door knob. And indeed it was. Placed on the eighth floor of a new block of flats, Hannibal’s apartment was revealed to be just as luxurious and refined as any other facet of him. It might have been too early to tell considering he had just pushed the door agape, but Will reckoned they could have easily filmed a season of Keeping Up with the Kardashians at Hannibal’s residence.

“Keeping Up with the Lecter-Grahams,” Will whispered to himself and the thought alone brought a goofy, lopsided smile to his face.

He stopped on the little brown mat in front of the door and deliberated whether he should take his shoes off before entering or not. The pristine clear marble floor seemed almost too good to step on, while the sole of his shoes were plastered with layers of mud, grass, and dog hair. He did take his shoes off and set them aside. Despite all reasoning and decency telling him not to, Will began a painstaking exploration of Hannibal’s home.

The living room and kitchen were decorated in light shades of beige and brown, with hard wood and discreet black accents. Almost minimal Will would have said if it weren’t for the black piano tucked away in a corner, behind the sofa and armchair, like some sort of potted plant. He could practically hear Hannibal referring to the instrument worth more than Will’s entire house as “oh, that old thing.”

With each room explored, he slowly became aware that Beverly’s description of his manner as those of a broom closet might not have been entirely inaccurate. But Hannibal had been the one to invite him there in the first place, so what he was doing wasn’t entirely unethical. Or at least that was what Will told himself after he couldn’t shake off the feeling of curiosity about finding out details regarding Hannibal’s life that he wouldn’t have otherwise dared to ask. Not yet, at least.

Will was far from being uneducated and he had read his fair share of sophisticated books during his late teen years and early adulthood, but the titles occupying Hannibal’s shelves went right over his head. He wondered if Hannibal actually enjoyed those books or simply enjoyed the mien of undecipherable intellectuality they gave him.  Either way, the books didn’t show any sign of wear, so if he did pick them up often to read and browse through them, he must have been exceedingly careful and protective. Walking away from the bookcase, Will put no effort in stopping the image of Hannibal stuffing trashy novels under his mattress from forming in his mind. He smiled with the air of someone holding secret knowledge as he entered a narrow hallway.

Then there was the bathroom. Black accents against beige tones, clean white towels, pristine porcelains, decorative plants in bloom – all stylish and discreet. Will noticed there were two cabinets, two sinks, two mirrors and a warm wave of blood rushed to his face the moment he realized Hannibal might have been living with someone else.

“Maybe… “

No, that was not possible. Hannibal didn’t have someone else in his life. It could have been a sibling, although Will couldn’t recall Hannibal ever mentioning one, or some other relative. Or maybe just a roommate.

He carefully opened the closet doors, one by one, and – “curiosity be damned” – he peeked inside and read the label on the multitude of cosmetic products. When he concluded that the absurd amount of hair wax was entirely characteristic to Hannibal and Hannibal only, and that the chances of two people using the exact same products were slim, Will sighed with relief. He mentally rebuked himself for his foolish and intrusive behavior, for his unbounded curiosity, and for his nonsensical jealousy. He had no right to be that jealous so early on in their relationship, and construct a myriad of unlikely scenarios in his mind when the truth was that Hannibal simply needed two persons’ space to store his belongings. Will barely needed half a person’s space, so if they ever lived together…

He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. The redness of his cheeks had persisted. He thanked God Hannibal was not there to see him. Mindful not to make a mess out of Hannibal’s clean bathroom, Will turned the water on to wash his face. He brushed his wet fingers through his hair and tried a few different ways of arranging it. Unsatisfied with the amateurish results, he told himself he would ask Hannibal for help later on.

At length, he reached the master bedroom. Unlike the rest of the apartment, it was decorated in dark gray, brown, and black shades. It felt like a part of an entirely different residence, and yet brought perfect balance to the light tones of the other rooms. The bed, with its large and opulent leather headboard, and the numerous pillows and cushions, was oddly inviting and Will found himself stepping closer to the edge of it. He ran one hand over the cover, heedful of the way the soft fabric felt under his skin.

Will felt the thrill and excitement of staying in an expensive hotel suite for free. Except, he told himself, this was not a hotel. And he was not staying here. And there was no reason why he should have tried the bed to see how comfortable it was. Except “no reason” was not a good enough reason to stop him, and the next thing Will knew was that his body was slowly sinking into what felt like the most comfortable mattress he had ever encountered.

Suddenly, he gasped at the wobbly movement beneath him. It was a water mattress.

Will couldn’t remember the last time he took a good look at himself in a full-length mirror. The exquisitely tailored tuxedo and the lighting in Hannibal’s walk-in closet complimented his figure in such a way that he looked slightly taller and sturdier. He straightened his back and shoulders to enhance the effect further, gently pulling on the lapels of his jacket. His eyes seemed darker in that light and his facial features sharper too.

He was winking and giving himself finger guns in the mirror when his phone rang. He picked it up from the floor where he had previously carelessly discarded it together with his clothes. Will answered swiftly at the sight of Hannibal’s name on the screen.

“Hey! I was just–”

“Will? An urgent matter arose at work, and I will be home later than initially planned.”

Hannibal spoke quickly, interrupting Will, and a tense pause followed after he had finished.

“Oh.”

“Is that a problem?”

“No, but I–” Will cleared his throat. “We’re gonna be late for the party.”

“I will let the hosts know of our belated arrival. Meanwhile, please make yourself as comfortable as possible. The fridge is full should you feel hungry, but please leave some space for the delicacies we will serve at the party. I assure you they will be worth it.”

“Okay, but when–”

“I’m so sorry, Will. I have to go now. I will call you as soon as I can.”

Hannibal ended the call abruptly, leaving Will hanging with the phone at his ear for a few more seconds.

“I’m not hungry,” he whispered to himself, looking forlornly around him. His clothes were spread all over the closet’s floor. The emptiness of Hannibal’s home suddenly felt terribly uncomfortable, and Will felt the need to call Beverly again.

When she answered, Will found it difficult to maintain a conversation, despite wanting to talk to her.

“Is everything alright in there?” she asked, sensing something off in Will’s voice.

“Hannibal called me,” Will informed her as he untied his bowtie.

“And?”

He was reluctant to go on. “Said he’s gonna be late.”

“Even later?”

Will nodded, and then remembered the conversation with Beverly was a phone one. “Yeah.”

“That sucks. He’d better make up for it later. And by that I mean you should make him bring us food from the party.”

He laughed shortly. He knew Beverly could always help him feel better, no matter what upset him in the first place, and that time was no exception.

“What am I supposed to do now?” Will asked. He was undressing again, and placing the tuxedo pieces on the appropriate hangers as neatly as he could, which was admittedly nowhere near as neatly as it should have been. Since Hannibal made him wait for so long, he might as well iron his tuxedo for him, Will thought.

“I assume you’ve already searched every nook and cranny.”

“Naturally. It was the first item on the list.”

“It’s your lucky day, Mr. Graham, because I have a few more ideas of how to spend your time at your soon-to-be husband’s place.”

Although steps away from his apartment’s door, Hannibal could still hear the obnoxiously loud music coming from inside. He tried the door knob, but the door was locked, which again surprised Hannibal. He hadn’t expected to come home to this.

“Will?” he called out after he had entered, but the music was too loud and covered his voice completely.

He looked around and everything seemed to be in place, save for the stereo remote control and…

“Will!”

This time his voice was louder – a shout, almost – but still no response came from the other. When he was passing along the hallway to check the bedroom, Hannibal stepped into a puddle of water. He looked down and noticed the puddle was coming from underneath the bathroom door. The mystery was finally starting to unravel. He knocked on the bathroom door a few times, and the now worrisome lack of response from Will made Hannibal think of all the worst case scenarios. Without giving it too much thought, he took a few steps back and threw his shoulder into the bathroom door, forcefully making it open.

Will was lying in the bathtub under a thick layer of foam, with the tap running and water overflowing onto the floor. He had a mud face mask on, and a transparent shower cap was covering his curly hair. The sudden noise and Hannibal forcibly entering the bathroom made him gasp in surprise and open his eyes to see where all the commotion was coming from.

Hannibal was watching him with a flabbergasted look on his face, his hair now in disarray and the hem of his trousers wet from all the water. Will stared back, unable to gather any coherent thoughts to explain that he’d just wanted to take a bath, but accidentally fell asleep and flooded Hannibal’s bathroom.

“Occupied?” he offered in a half-assed attempt to relieve the tension between the two of them.

The music reached an admittedly anticlimactic climax as Hannibal slowly turned around and left the bathroom.

“Home remedies and medical malpractice make for terrible music thematic choices.”

Will frowned, and decided not to engage in a debate about music with Hannibal.

“Are you sure you’re not upset?” he inquired, wiping the sweat off his forehead with his plaid shirt’s sleeve.

“Quite sure,” Hannibal replied with seemingly infinite composure and patience.

It was past 9 pm, the party had already started, and they were both kneeled down in Hannibal’s bathroom, mopping the floor after the disaster Will had accidentally caused. He couldn’t help but feel a sting of guilt about what had happened although Hannibal had assured him several times that it was not his fault. Will knew he had overstepped all thinkable boundaries, and even though it was Beverly who came up with the idea of putting on some music and taking a bath while waiting for Hannibal, Will couldn’t blame her either. Especially when it took little to no effort to convince him that it was a good idea.

Hannibal was wearing a white apron and a salmon dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. More than once Will found himself staring at Hannibal, and the way his muscles tensed and became visible while he was wiping the floor. A confusingly delightful sight that made Will’s eye dart from Hannibal back to the floor, and then quickly on Hannibal again. If the latter had noticed, he made sure not to let it show. Will was grateful for not having to talk about it.

By the time they had finished cleaning up, they were both exhausted – Will sprawled on the sofa, Hannibal pouring him a glass of wine. Their clothes were damp with sweat and water, and smelling of lemon from the cleaning products. Will accepted the glass of wine from Hannibal, their fingers touching on the stem. He took a sip, tentatively. He would have preferred whiskey or beer, but didn’t dare to refuse Hannibal after all that had happened. He decided he liked the sweet, fruity taste of the wine, and took another sip, this time bigger.

Hannibal was standing in front of him, leaning back against the kitchen island. He looked absent, out of touch with reality. The air in Hannibal’s apartment felt thick and heavy, like a dense fog descending upon the two of them, slowing their movements, their thoughts, their heartbeats. Will felt dull and weary, yet comfortable at the same time. Safe in the ever-growing familiarity of Hannibal’s presence.

“You can spend the night here. Or I can drive you home, whichever you prefer.” Hannibal spoke suddenly, surprising Will’s stare on him.

Will frowned. “What about the party?”

“It is late, and you must be tired,” Hannibal offered, flashing a half-convincing smile. His eyes were still unfocused, watching Will but seeing somewhere past him.

Will, again, frowned, his eyebrows lowering deeper. “And spend the rest of the night drinking beer and watching TV with my dogs? I mean, I’d do that every other day, but today…” He paused, stood from his seat, took a reluctant step towards Hannibal with his hands folded behind his back. “We were supposed to spend the night together. It’s still not too late to go now.”

Another small step, and Hannibal shifted his position, his back straightening, his arms hanging at his sides, suddenly uncomfortable and empty.

“And I’m not too tired to spend time with you,” Will added with a smirk, taking one final step.

He was now standing in front of Hannibal, warmth seeping through his body. Hannibal’s smell, his breathing, the slow and steady rising of his chest, the almost imperceptible stubble on his jaw; Will found himself aching to touch him. His hand had moved before his mind could have stopped it, and he stroked the side of Hannibal’s neck, brushing a thumb over his jawline, little hairs harsh against Will’s skin.

“Will.” Only slightly above a whisper, warm and starved for the thousands of kisses they hadn’t shared yet. They were close enough for the tips of their noses to brush against each other.

Will thought no more. Curious fingers exploring warm and soft skin, followed by even more curious lips quivering in the space between the two of them. Will’s fingertips were burning, his head light, and his chest too small for his throbbing heart. He pressed their lips together, eager and haste.

Will almost pulled away when no reaction had come from Hannibal. But then he grabbed his waist – almost too roughly – and pulled him closer, started kissing him back, with more thirst and power than Will had expected. It was not their first kiss, but the first that felt real, and the first that made them feel whole.

They were standing, and then they were on the sofa, Hannibal’s whole body pressed warmly over Will’s. Their kiss grew deeper and more desperate, when Will let out a little grunt.

“Wait,” he breathed out on Hannibal’s lips. “Wait.”

Hannibal stopped immediately, pulled away a few inches, watching Will’s rosy face intently.

“We’re never gonna get to the party this way.”

Hannibal couldn’t help but laugh. He brought their foreheads together, and placed one last kiss on Will’s lips, lingering for a few more lazy moments.

White and golden balloons concealed Will from curious eyes at the party. He was standing behind a large bouquet, conveniently placed near the dessert buffet, watching Hannibal interact with people – smiling, laughing, shaking their hands, toasting, dancing, and what looked like reciting poems. No matter which part of the large hall he went to, Hannibal was always the focus of everyone’s attention. He couldn’t even go to the bathroom without a flock of admirers following him, trying to catch him alone for a minute, and talk to him in private. He was the guest of honor, Will figured, and that made him the second most interesting man that night. Except he wasn’t. He had nothing to say, nothing in common with those people – save for his interest in Hannibal – and yet they were all enthusiastic to meet him. Will thought they might have imagined that getting to know him would somehow give them a clue about how to approach Hannibal. Little did they know Will hadn’t even tried to seduce Hannibal – it’d just happened.

He took a deep breath, re-arranged his bow tie, and flashed a smile at a young woman who was watching him as he’d emerged from behind the large balloons bouquet with a perplexed look on her face. He approached Hannibal through the crowd, nodding and smiling at those who recognized him. Warm orange and yellow lights filled the large hall, dancing slowly across faces, seemingly in sync with the philharmonic orchestra playing their music in the background.

It took Will a while to navigate the room, but when he did reach Hannibal, he was greeted with a large smile, not from Hannibal, but from the man who was standing next to him.

“Ah, finally! You must be William,” he said, and his loud voice and impatient tone rang painfully in Will’s ears.

“I prefer Will.”

A short smile, only half genuine. A quick look at Hannibal, lips firmly pressed together and dark, hooded eyes. Will understood.

“William is a much more dignified name,” the man went on with the same obnoxiously condescending tone. “You could use some dignity,” he added with a simper, cocking an eyebrow at Will.

Will stared at him, eyes wide and lips slightly parted, and then at Hannibal. He expected anger, disgust, or the feeling of being humiliated to settle in. None of them did. Instead, a quiet sense of possessiveness started tingling in his fingertips, as if something had been snatched out of his hands, leaving them achingly empty.

Feigning a grin, he wrapped his own arm around Hannibal’s, and pulled him closer. His jaw clenched, and he swallowed.

“I happen to have just the right amount of dignity to be here with Hannibal.” His words didn’t sound harsh and bitter when he’d said them while lovingly stroking Hannibal’s arm with his free hand, but Will wished they would have. “I see you’re enjoying my husband’s company.”

The man frowned, and searched Hannibal’s face for some hint of assurance. Hannibal stood still, watching Will intently, ignoring the other.

“Your husband? Is this a bad joke?”

“If this is a joke,” Will began, and his eyes lit up, “you won’t deliver any punchlines tonight.”

The man’s hands squeezed into fists, and his face took a red shade of indignation.

Another quick smile – this time of sincere enjoyment – and Will turned to Hannibal, took his hand, and put his own over his shoulder. Hannibal accepted the invitation to dance, and they both departed towards the dancefloor gleefully.

“Will, I want you to know I am very proud of you.”

Hannibal’s voice was a warm whisper in Will’s ear as they tried to synchronize their steps with the music.

“Did I stutter?”

“Not at all.”

“Oh, thank God.”

The other guests at the party moved away from the dancefloor, leaving them space to unfold their dance. That would have bothered Will normally, reminding him that he couldn’t actually dance, but he was too focused on Hannibal to notice.

“You were fantastic.”

A quick turn, clumsily executed on Will’s part. It didn’t matter.

“I think we should leave.”

“What? Why?”

“This party is not as entertaining as I hoped it would be.”

Will laughed shortly, and nuzzled Hannibal’s neck. “I could have told you that before we even arrived here.”

“And I know exactly where we’ll go.”

Another turn, and a dip. Hannibal’s eyebrows rose, and a meaningful smile tugged at the corners of his lips. His hands were holding Will’s back firmly.

“Have you been practicing?”

“I’m a natural,” Will joked, and brought himself in a standing position again as a rather underwhelming round of applause came from their spectators. “I know they would applaud just about anything you do, so I’m not gonna flatter myself.”

Hannibal gave a lopsided grin. “Let us see if they will applaud our departure, shall we?”

“After you,” Will offered with a slight tilt of his head and a ceremonial gesture of his hand.

The night air hit their warm faces like a tidal wave, washing all over them. He wasn’t drunk, but Will did feel something akin to the mellow haze induced by alcohol. He felt as if his mind worked two seconds behind his body, and that, in this bizarre state of blur, anything could have happened. Anything and everything. The streetlight made Hannibal’s eyes glow deep shades of amber that Will hadn’t quite taken the time to admire before. His facial features were sharp, yet so gentle in the warm, orange light, and Will felt his chest rippling with waves of affection. He took his hand, held it tightly, and watched as Hannibal stopped the first taxi passing on the street with a gesture of his arm.

“Where are we going?” Will heard himself asking out loud, and his voice sounded strange to him – low and hoarse against the muffled sounds of music coming from inside the party hall.

“I’m taking you where we first met.”

Will squinted, and thought for a second.

“We’ve met at your Halloween party.”

“That’s not entirely accurate.”

He looked at Hannibal with confusion, but the thin curve of his knowing smile made him suddenly remember. His whole face lit up. “Oh!”

Hannibal nodded, kissed the top of Will’s head. They both entered the backseat of the taxi.

“I can’t believe you actually called me to the rescue.”

“It was a wise decision. You indeed rescued me from a more than uncomfortable position.”

“So today morning I was talking to my wife, and I ask her, ‘Why aren’t we raising goats?’ I ask her. And she looked at me and said, she said—“

Both Hannibal and Will turned their heads towards the taxi driver who had suddenly started talking on the phone, loud enough for them to hear.

“And put you in an even more uncomfortable one,” Will continued from where they left after side-eyeing their noisy driver. “He’s gonna tell everyone we’re married now. Or at least ask around to confirm it.”

“I wouldn’t call that uncomfortable.”

“I wouldn’t call it a wise decision.” Will tugged at his ear lobe. “You’ve spent years building an image and reputation for yourself, and I’ve just bulldozered my way through it in one single night.”

“So I go and get the biggest cabbage I could find. I take the cabbage in one arm, the goat in the other, and—“

Hannibal chuckled – a light flutter against Will’s neck.

“In this moment I care about nothing more than how you see me.”

“Well…” Will began, flicked the tip of his tongue over his bottom lip. “I see you as an intelligent and attractive man.” His cheeks flushed slightly as he spoke. “Well-mannered, good at cooking and playing obscure instruments.”

“And when I came back the goat was gone.”

Will rolled his eyes in annoyance, but continued. “And you, you make me feel… safe. You make sense out of my chaos.”

He could feel Hannibal’s smile above his shoulder, their heads resting against each other.

“Spare me the bullshit, Billy. If Cletus can raise goats, why can’t we?”

Hannibal took Will’s hand to his mouth, and pressed his knuckles against his lips. He cupped the side of Will’s face in one hand, and brushed it lightly with his thumb.

“My sweet Will,” he whispered, blinking slowly. “Your skin is very soft.”

A wide grin spread on Will’s face, and a chuckle escaped past his lips. “Must be the mud mask.”

“You alright in there, boys?” the driver asked, after he’d finished his phone call.

“Perfect,” Hannibal replied, holding Will’s gaze.

“Let’s put on some music, yeah?”

He turned on the radio, and the same song Will had been listening to earlier the same day started playing. They both laughed despite the driver’s confusion. Will had his head resting on Hannibal’s shoulder through the rest of the car ride.

“We have got about fifteen minutes left until midnight,” Hannibal announced after checking his wrist watch.

“And finally some silence.”

Hannibal’s yacht was docked offshore, far enough from the marina and the city coast that only muted sounds reached them. The sky was perfectly clear that night – a dark mass stretching from the distant depths of the ocean and swallowed whole by the city skyline, punctured in numerous spots by bright celestial bodies. The air was crisp and still, and so was the water, save for the occasional wavelet caused by fish diving out and back in.

Will was settled on a small bench seating on the upper deck of the yacht, watching the fireworks snapping and sizzling onto the sky.

“They’re just getting started,” he remarked, and then noticed Hannibal wasn’t standing next to him anymore.

He looked around, but saw no movement. Will had just gotten up to search for Hannibal when the latter returned with a blanket draped over his arm, carrying a silver tray with two glasses and a golden bottle of what Will assumed to be champagne.

“Would be a shame not to enjoy these moments with a glass of champagne,” he said while placing the tray on a coffee table in front of them. “Cristal Rosé, produced by the Louis Roederer Champagne House, aged for six years,” he explained.

Will just nodded. He was sure he wouldn’t have been able to tell the difference between Hannibal’s Cristal Rosé and a seven-dollar bottle from 7-Eleven, but he let Hannibal have his moment. The bottle opened with a pop, and Hannibal poured the sparkling liquid in the two glasses. The fireworks were getting bigger, louder, and more frequent, announcing that the midnight was close.

“Here’s to us,” Will said as they toasted.

“To us,” Hannibal echoed, his whole face bright and joyful.

They took one sip each, and sat back down next to each other. Hannibal placed the blanket he had brought around Will’s shoulders. The latter smiled, wiggled closer to Hannibal, and spread the blanket so that it covered both of them instead. Hannibal didn’t protest.

“Four minutes,” Hannibal announced again.

Will shifted slightly. Crossed his legs, uncrossed them. Leaned backwards, folded his hands in his lap. “Thank you for inviting me,” he finally spoke while watching the sky, purposefully avoiding Hannibal’s eyes. “This was one of the best nights—”

He stopped when his phone rang. Taking it out of his pocket, he saw it was a video call from Beverly. His thumb was hovering over the screen, and he looked over to Hannibal. Beverly and the others were most likely drunk, and would have disrupted the intimate moment of peace Will and Hannibal had hoped for. At the same time, they were the people Will had spent each holiday with for many years, and partially the reason why he was there with Hannibal that night.

“I don’t know if I should,” he whispered, indecision clouding his features.

“Go ahead,” Hannibal encouraged with benevolence.

“They will be loud. And potentially annoying. Very likely embarrassing.”

“They are your closest friends. Answering them does not cancel my presence.” He took one of Will’s hands in his own. “I will be right here with you.”

Will bobbed his head shortly, and flashed a little smile. He accepted the video call from Beverly, and, as he had anticipated, his friends were nothing if not obnoxiously loud. The image was blurry and unfocused, and the sound even worse – indistinctive talking, cheering, yelling, toasting, fireworks, alcohol bottles being opened, plastic glasses on the floor, hands grabbing the phone, a moving crowd of people, faces trying to fit it.

“Brian, stop it!” Beverly’s voice could be heard among the others. “Give me the phone.”

“Bev?”

Will scratched the back of his neck, and watched as the phone dropped to the floor, the screen going dark for a few seconds.

“What are you guys doing?”

“I said give me the phone, not throw it.”

“You were supposed to catch it.”

“Why don’t you catch this?”

Another loud, smacking sound, and Will flinched. Hannibal had a strange look on his face – part curiosity, part amusement, part something Will wasn’t able to decipher, but could have easily been classified as fear.

Eventually, it all became clearer. Beverly was in the center, holding the phone. Brian was to her right, rubbing a painful spot on his shoulder. Franklyn and Frederick were both on her right side. They were all wearing party hats, and were covered in confetti. Franklyn and Frederick had party horns, and Brian and Jimmy hand clappers. Jimmy briefly disappeared from behind them with a thud.

“I’m fine. Thanks for asking,” he said when he reappeared, rolling his eyes.

“Alright, is everyone here?” Beverly asked, looking around her, ignoring Jimmy’s misfortune.

“Bedelia’s missing.”

Hannibal’s eyes went wide. “Bedelia? She is there?”

“Well… she was,” Frederick explained. “Now that I think of it, I haven’t seen her in a while.”

“Come on, guys. You can’t just lose Bedelia,” Beverly said, frowning at the men around her.

Hannibal looked at Will, bewilderment reading on his face. Will shrugged. He had no idea what was going on either.

“I’ll go find her,” Franklyn offered, but Beverly stopped him.

“No, wait. We’re supposed to—“

She was interrupted by the simultaneous uproar of fireworks rocketing from all parts of the city. The group started cheering and wishing one another a happy new year. They hugged, kissed, toasted, and threw confetti. Beverly was careful to show Will and Hannibal all that was happening on their end.

On Hannibal’s yacht, the sky was lit up with a myriad of colors and patterns, one more intricate than the other. Hannibal and Will were both smiling, looking up to the sky. Enjoying the spectacle of light and color, they almost forgot they weren’t technically alone.

Will put his phone aside, and Hannibal wrapped his arm around his waist. They were looking at each other, smiling wider still, when Hannibal spoke first.

“I love you.”

A fact uncomplicated in its complexity and the dragging realization of it all, spinning in Will’s chest between a heartbeat and another.

“I love you, too.”

Hannibal pulled Will into a tight embrace. They stood like that – chests pressed against each other so tightly that their breaths and heart beats became a tangle of love and need and want – each watching the other’s face as if it was going to be the last time they’d have gotten to see it. Two intertwined souls, and between them the fragility of a new love that suddenly revealed itself and made itself tangible.

Will closed his eyes, pressed his cheek against Hannibal’s. The world slowed down, but did not fall apart. In Hannibal’s arms, the seconds were undecided to pass.

[Image Link]

“So what was it like confessing your love for Hannibal under the stars?”

“I could literally hear you cheering in the background, which made it both awkward and glorious.”

“That about sums it up from our point of view too. Did he carry you over the threshold? Do yachts even have thresholds?”

“This is not even a yacht; it’s like a floating block of flats. The master bedroom alone is bigger than my whole house. Imagine how many dogs could happily live here, Bev.”

“You didn’t answer my question, Will.”

“Uh oh – I think I’m getting sucked into the Bermuda Triangle and losing signal. Looks like I’ll never be able to answer that question. I’m so sorry, Beverly.”

Will ended the phone call before Beverly could have said anything else, and smiled to himself. He stretched on bed, letting out a long yawn. The bed was large enough to allow him to extend his arms and legs without reaching any edge. Unsurprisingly, that too was a water mattress. Given enough nights spent in Hannibal’s many beds, Will could have grown accustomed to this unprecedented level of luxury.

Hannibal appeared in the doorframe, holding a large tray with breakfast food and drinks.

“Did you say something about the Bermuda Triangle?”

“Nothing,” Will replied quickly. “Beverly called to tell me they’ve found Bedelia. Turns out she passed out in the pantry. I guess she had a wild night.”

Hannibal placed the tray on the bed carefully, and chuckled shortly.

“Breakfast?” he offered with a cordial and overly polite tilt of his head.

Will lifted himself up on an elbow. “Do I have a choice?” he asked with a feigned frown.

“Yes. Eating the breakfast I made for us or swimming back to the shore.”

Will laughed, and rose in sitting position. He suddenly remembered he was not wearing anything besides his boxer shorts, but the feeling of shame wasn’t strong enough to linger, not when Hannibal himself was only wearing a pair of pajama pants.

“Alright, I will eat. But only because I don’t have my swim cap with me.”

“Are you sure you can’t stay?”

“Quite sure. I will have to return to work tomorrow.”

Will nodded, pursing his lips. “Yeah, me too.”

Back at Will’s house, it was snowing again as if the weather was announcing the little holiday was over, and they all had to return to their normal lives. Will felt a dull sadness settling in. The last 24 hours were some of the best he’s ever spent, and possibly the happiest he’s been in a long time. And then it was over. Hannibal had to leave. He’d start working again, and so would Will, leaving them less time to spend with each other.

Hannibal rubbed a snowflake away from Will’s cheek with his thumb, and kissed him gently on the lips. “I will see you tomorrow,” he whispered, his face still close to Will’s.

Will smiled sadly as they moved away from each other. He turned around, entered his house, afraid that waiting outside to watch Hannibal leave might have made him feel even worse.

The dogs greeted Will with enthusiasm as always, and he took the time to pet and kiss each of them. He took his phone out to take photos of them, unlocked the screen, but then–

“What…”

His frown dissolved into a fond smile as realization dawned on him. Instead of the background picture of his dogs that Will had expected to see there was one of him alone, taken the day before by none other than Hannibal.

“Hannibal!” Will called out as he stumbled through the front door and sprinted outside, the dogs surging around his feet.

Hannibal was just getting inside the taxi he had called. He didn’t seem to hear him, so Will started running faster – faster than he had in a very long time. He reached the car as it was speeding up, and knocked on the window desperately.

The driver stopped, and rolled down the window. “What is this…”

“Wait!” Will said, out of breath. “Hannibal, your phone.”

He waved the phone in air, and Hannibal took a moment, but finally understood. He got out of the taxi, and took his own phone out to compare them. They have, indeed, accidentally exchanged phones for a second time. They both broke into mirthful laughter.

Hannibal told the taxi driver he could leave, but paid him anyway, and then returned to Will. They regarded each other with wide grins on their faces.

Will shook his head and looked down. “We might as well stop trying.”

“I believe it is a sign. The universe is trying to tell us something.”

“Yeah?” Will looked at Hannibal again. “What is that?”

“That we need to get you a cell phone pouch to carry around your neck.”

Hannibal’s face was twisted into a suppressed smile, and after a few seconds of silence he finally burst out laughing.

Will rolled his eyes. “You did not just laugh at your own joke.”

“One can’t help but laugh when one’s jokes are amusing.”

“Which is hardly ever your case.”

Hannibal held back another chuckle and placed a warm kiss on Will’s temple. “Happy new year,” he said, and wrapped his arm around Will’s shoulders as they both started walking back inside.

Will smiled with contentment and pressed himself closer to Hannibal’s body. With the man he loved next to him, the ending Will had feared was just another beginning, and goodbyes were no longer needed.

“Happy new year, Hannibal.”

~The End~

“What did the snowman say to the other snowman?”

“Shut up, Hannibal.”