Chapter Text
Will's been pretty frustrated lately.
The whole entrapment plot feels like it has gone off the rails. Or perhaps the train was never actually running on proper tracks to begin with.
It's beyond aggravating - offering yourself up as a honeytrap and ending up with the worst case of secret pining for your intended target. Why, oh why, does the one person that seems to perfectly understand and accept him have to be a prolific serial killer?
These days he desperately clings to the last remaining shreds of his ire, left over from the initial burning rage at Hannibal's manipulations. It's a lot less effective than he'd like, easily forgotten in the face of his yearning for the near spiritual closeness he often feels with Hannibal.
The double-edged sword of his empathy cuts easily, mercilessly, through his self-deception however. He can understand Hannibal's reasoning, and in it, recognize the man's own desire for Will's companionship. A wish for them to meet each other as equals, with all smokescreens dissipated, illuminated by the light of truth and acceptance.
Still, the risk Hannibal took with Will's physical and mental health deserves a reckoning of some sort.
Sometimes he just wants to whack Hannibal over the nose with a rolled up newspaper, like some unruly dog. And who knows, it might even be effective.
Life would be much less stressful if his homicidal therapist were just a misbehaving puppy.
The man is more like a cat though. Proud, elegant and independent. Picky in who he allows close.
And prone to playing with his food.
Will's dismayed to realize his own recent actions have been rather cat-like as well. He'd presented Hannibal with Randall Tier's corpse, much like a proud tomcat might leave a dead rat on his owner's pillow. With some mirth he recalls reading once that cats usually meant such gestures as a way of providing food for their inept human servants. Tier will no doubt end up in a few different elaborate dishes soon, fed right back to Will, despite Hannibal being perfectly capable of hunting for himself. Kind of heartwarming, in a fucked up way.
Will's been distracted all weekend, still somewhat thrown by his own recent actions. He's pulled out of his thoughts by the ringing of his phone. The caller ID reads Alana, which immediately has him cautiously alert.
Their relationship never recovered after his desperate little attempt on Hannibal's life.
On the one hand he can't exactly blame her. Who'd want to associate with the guy that sent a killer after your boyfriend, after all? On the other hand however, it's near unbearably ironic that she's in an intimate relationship with the currently most prolific serial killer the US has to offer and is too blinded by self-righteousness to see it.
It's doubly frustrating, having to witness her being led around by the nose, when Hannibal's flirting with Will is becoming ever more blatant. And Will's response to it, much to his shame and chagrin, ever more receptive.
He heaves a bone-weary sigh and, instead of succumbing to the temptation of sending the call on to voicemail, picks it up.
"Hello, Alana, what can I do for you?"
"Will. Have you seen or talked to Hannibal in the last thirty or so hours?"
"Nope. Haven't spoken to him since we walked the Tier crime scene a few days ago."
"Did he tell you that he got himself a dog?"
Will feels some whiplash from this nonsequitur. "What? No, that man would never get a pet that can shed hair on his overpriced furniture. I could maybe see him with one of those sphynx cats."
"Well, I haven't been able to contact him in well over a day. I came over to his home just now and he isn't here. His bed is unmade and there's messages on his answering machine from today's patients, asking where he is, as he apparently never showed up at his office and didn't cancel on them either. And most bafflingly, there's a dog running around his place. It's pretty big and rather belligerent, won't really let me near it. I'm not comfortable trying to take care of such a large aggressive animal. I lack the necessary experience."
She still sounds a tad suspicious, probably wondering if Will finally snapped and successfully did away with her boyfriend. Will allows himself an eyeroll, since she isn't around to see and be offended by it. "And so you called the local dog hoarder. I get it. I'll stop by to pick it up. Don't want it to starve or hurt itself."
"Thank you, I didn't want to involve animal control. One thing I know I can still trust you with, is to take good care of a dog in need." Guess she just couldn't resist a last jab.
They say their awkward temporary goodbyes and he takes the roomiest transport box he has available out of his storage room. 'Big' isn't a very precise descriptor, but hopefully a box that can fit both Max and Harley at the same time will do the trick.
An uneventful boring drive later he parks on the curb in front of Hannibal's ostentatious Baltimore home. The front door is slightly ajar, Alana leaning against the wall with a cup of coffee cradled to her chest. She looks frazzled, worry creasing her brow and the corners of her eyes.
Part of Will would be relieved if Hannibal has actually fled, for whatever reason. The whole complicated mess of their association just allowed to fade into memory. Other, darker parts of him threaten with similar worry as Alana is experiencing right now at the thought of Hannibal being truly gone, their relationship left hanging in such an unfulfilled abrupt way.
He nods a greeting to her, hands awkwardly stuffed into his pockets.
"Thank you for coming. The dog was pacing the living room and kitchen last I checked. There's no dog food or bowls or any other pet paraphernalia anywhere I could see, though perhaps Hannibal follows your example and makes its food fresh. I put out a dish of water for it, but it just kept growling at me and tried to corner and herd me to the study. Maybe Hannibal had it trained as a guard dog of some sort?"
Will just shrugs noncommittally and heads inside. He can hear the frantic clicking of claws on tiled floor getting louder and then a lanky blur of light fur scrambles around the corner to the living room and into the foyer, immediately barreling towards him.
The first thing that becomes clear is that 'big' is rather understated as a descriptor of the animal's size. The dog is ridiculously massive, its size on par with the biggest Great Dane he's ever seen and the crate he brought will only barely fit if the beast lies down in it.
Despite the dog's size and speed, Will's not alarmed at the animal's approach, as its body language screams enthusiastic happiness, its whole butt shaking along with its frantically wagging tail.
The dog rises on its hindquarters and embraces Will much like a human would, front paws resting on his shoulders, as he accepts the happy wet doggy kisses from his brand new canine friend. The display exposed the animal's underside for a moment, revealing it to be male.
"Well, hello to you too, boy. Almost didn't believe Alana when she said Hannibal got himself a dog, but looking at you, I guess I can see it. Aren't you a handsome pup? Yes, you are." Will scratches the dog behind his large batlike ears, one flopping askew adorably as he tilts his head into the touch. His petting and praise are greeted with a happy yip and more slobber on his face.
The animal's short sandy fur has the beautiful silky shine of a Weimaraner and he has the long torso and legs of an Irish Wolfhound. His features don't look like either of those breeds though. His built is slim but muscular, like a sighthound, but the muzzle and triangular ears are more reminiscent of a husky. Will wouldn't call himself an expert on dog breeds, but he's pretty current with his knowledge and he can't place this pup's pedigree at all. The closest comparison he can dredge up would be a very large, well-groomed Dingo.
Hannibal getting a mutt, even a beautiful one, seems even more out of character than him getting a dog in the first place.
"I see the two of you are getting along." There's a badly hidden sour note in Alana's voice, jealousy coloring her tone at the dog's easy and enthusiastic acceptance of Will.
"Can you leave a note for Hannibal, to let him know where his dog went off to?" The dog barks at the mention of Hannibal's name. "You miss your daddy, boy? Know where he's disappeared to?" Will swears the dog gives him an incredulous look at those words, accompanied by a small huff and whine. "Don't worry, I'll take good care of you." That immediately makes the animal brighten again, butt and tail shaking anew as he resumes licking at Will's chin and mouth.
"Yes. I'll lock up once I'm done. Thank you again and take care, Will."
Will says his own subdued farewell, taking the dog by the scruff of his neck in lieu of a collar and leash. He doesn't have to worry though, the dog eagerly follows him to his car. The animal looks deeply affronted when offered the open door of the crate though, Will being treated to a menacing growl for the first time.
"Well, aren't you a picky princess. Can't really blame you though, it is a bit of a tight fit. I guess I can make an exception this once." He generally prefers for a new dog to make their first car-ride in a transport box, as you can never be sure how an animal might react to being inside a moving vehicle.
However, this particular dog jumps into the passenger seat without hesitation when Will opens the car door for him.
As soon as Will sits down behind the wheel, the animal shuffles himself half over the center console to lay his large head down in Will's lap. The dog buries his nose in Will's crotch and huffs a few deep breaths, tail thumping against the window.
Will just rolls his eyes, quite familiar with that kind of behavior from his own pack. Body odor holds information for canines, and the muskier the smell, the better. If you have a dog, you quickly get used to having your armpits, crotch and ass sniffed, as well as stray underwear and socks and smelly shoes get chewed on.
"So, what shall I call you, hm?" The dog's maroon eyes blink open, his ears perking up attentively. Will feels oddly mischievous as he wonders if he can get the animal used to a new name. Hannibal probably named him something unbearably pretentious, like Achilles or Caravaggio. "What do you think of Porkchop?"
The dog sneezes, looking hilariously scandalized.
"No? Hmm. How about Hotdog? Killer Queen? Diva? Clifford? Ripper?" His suggestions elicit progressively more amusing expressions from the dog, until that last offer results in a contemplatively cocked head and a neutral whuff. Trust Hannibal's humongous beast of a canine to accept a name based on his owner's homicidal alter ego.
"Ripper it is then." He reaches over to scratch at the base of the dog's tail, the newly christened Ripper flopping back down on Will's lap with a blissful sigh, his happily lolling tongue leaving a wet patch on Will's thigh.
He makes a quick stop at his preferred pet supply store and buys a sturdy leather collar and leash with a chest harness. While the dog will run free in Will's spacious yard for the most part, it's always best to be prepared and none of the gear he has at home would fit Ripper's large frame. The store doesn't carry pet beds spacious enough to be comfortable for Ripper's massive size and he has to put in a special order. The dog will just have to make do with a folded blanket tonight.
Finally back home, Will lets the rest of his pack out the door to greet the new addition. Ripper hides himself behind Will's legs, his butt pressed firmly to the ground to evade the curious noses of the other dogs angling for a sniff. His ears are flattened to his head and he growls when Buster manages to dig his nose under his tail, snapping his jaws at the overexcited Jack Russell terrier. Buster, always more brave than smart and only just recovered from his clash with Tier, thinks this a fun game and prances out of reach. He bows down, butt eagerly wiggling in the air as he barks at Ripper in an invitation to play.
Will grabs Ripper around the snout to scold him. He won't tolerate this kind of aggressive behavior, no matter how big and prissy the dog is.
"Cut it out! You'll behave yourself or you'll go into the kennel until I can be sure you won't act like a menace towards the rest of the pack."
Ripper visibly droops, a pitiful whine rising in his throat. He looks beseechingly up at Will, seemingly repentant.
"Are you going to be a good boy for me?"
The moment Will releases his hold on the dog's muzzle, Ripper bounces up again, yipping and licking at Will's face. He takes that as an affirmative for now.
The rest of his pack use this opportunity to finally take Ripper's scent, the big dog jumping with a surprised yelp as cold noses poke at his furry behind.
You'd think Ripper had never interacted with other canines before. Will can't help but laugh at Ripper's indignant expression and awkward tiptoeing dance as he tries to maneuver his butt out of reach again.
Later, after Will has prepared the dogs' evening meal, he's both charmed and bewildered when Ripper brings his full bowl to join him at the table. The dog settles across from him, paws resting on either side of the dish, as he delicately eats his food.
He's never before seen a dog eat this carefully. Or slowly.
And once finished, Ripper picks up his bowl and places it into the sink.
"Look at what a good, considerate boy you are. So smart and handsome!" He praises, Ripper puffing up hilariously, tail beating wildly. The dog almost immediately reigns himself back in, attempting to look more dignified. He looks oddly betrayed by his own reaction as he glares at his still happily wagging tail.
"You are definitely the oddest dog I've ever met." Will rubs Ripper's cheeks and places a kiss on his nose. The gesture is received with extreme enthusiasm, as Ripper lunges up to lick into his mouth again. "Easy, boy. Come on, everyone, time for a last run around the yard."
He lets the pack outside to empty their bladders one last time before bed while he cleans up.
The next obstacle reveals itself when the dogs come back in and shuffle off to their individual beds. Ripper dubiously eyes the nest of blankets Will has prepared by the hearth, clearly not impressed with his choice of resting place. His gaze darts between the makeshift bed and Will and he whuffs questioningly, looking adorably woeful.
Will continues to be surprised by just how smart and expressive Ripper is.
"I've already ordered a nice big bed for you, but it'll probably take a day or two to arrive, sorry boy." Will apologetically rubs Ripper's ears, the dog giving a despondent little huff as he leans into Will's legs.
Will is a lot less surprised than he'd like to admit, when shortly after crawling under his own blankets, the bed noticeably dips under a large weight, the boxspring groaning in protest, as Ripper awkwardly stalks up to plop down beside him and cuddles close.
Those dark, devastatingly effective puppy eyes look at him beseechingly as Ripper whines and licks at Will's neck.
"You are a bad influence." Ripper looks oddly proud at this indictment. "Only until your bed arrives." Will relents far too easily and throws one arm over that warm furry shape, hugging it close.
He's lulled to sleep by the heat of Ripper's body, soft doggy snores puffing against his throat.
***
It's barely light out when he's brought back awake by Ripper's tongue insistently licking at his mouth. The enormous animal being such an affectionate puppy is oddly endearing.
Ripper joins him for breakfast once more and Will has to wonder at the animal's unusual actions. He can't really see Hannibal training a dog to sit at his opulent dining table with him, but this kind of behavior doesn't come about naturally.
As if summoned by the mere thought of the man, Will's phone buzzes with a text message. Apparently Hannibal still hasn't reappeared and Alana has now reported him missing. Will feels torn between guilty relief and abject misery at the man's continued absence.
He's pulled out of his spiraling thoughts by Ripper's whining, the dog's nose rubbing at his cheek.
"I'll be alright, boy. Just worried about your owner." Ripper whuffs, his expression looking both frustrated and resigned. Will can commiserate.
Will takes a quick shower and as he's distractedly gathering his clothes for the day, a cold wet nose pokes under the towel slung low around his hips, a rough tongue licking from behind his balls all the way up his perineum and over his asshole before he can even yelp in surprise.
"No! Bad dog!" He scolds an unrepentant Ripper, who just eyes him with consideration and licks his chops as if savoring the stolen taste.
Ripper makes an absolutely unholy ruckus when Will eventually moves to leave for work, agitating the rest of the pack with his anxious clingy behavior.
Will gives in more easily than he'd like to admit, letting the dog jump into the car's passenger seat again. Ripper wastes no time and plops his head down in Will's lap once more, as soon as he slides behind the wheel. The dog looks entirely too smug and pleased with Will's easy compliance.
"You better be on your best behavior while I'm at work, you hear me? Or it's into the kennel with you tomorrow. I won't care how much you whine."
Ripper doesn't deign the threat with a reaction. He just buries his nose deeper in Will's crotch and begins to softly snore.
***
"Ohh, and who is this handsome puppy?" Beverly fairly squeals. She presses two take out coffees into Will's hands to free up her own and descends upon a bewildered looking Ripper with cuddles and kisses. The dog endures the attention patiently, throwing a martyred expression at Will that all but screams just look at the shit I'm willing to put up with for you.
"I don't know if Jack's told you, but Lecter has vanished without a trace. Found this dog at his place."
"Think he caught onto your scheme and decided to scram?" Ripper barks and shoots a glare at Will that looks oddly betrayed.
"No clue. I'd have said no, but honestly, my judgement hasn't exactly been the best when it comes to the guy."
She momentarily ceases her affectionate attack on the dog to glance up at Will. A mischievous smirk twitches at her lips. "Think he fed him human meat to get the dog to grow this big?"
Will sputters a surprised laugh. It hadn't even occurred to him, but now that he thinks about it - why wouldn't Hannibal share his kills with a beloved pet? Turning his victims into dog food seems appropriately derisive and mocking for his taste.
Beverly examines the blank collar. "What's his name? Something super pretentious, I bet."
"No idea, he didn't have a collar when I picked him up. I've started calling him Ripper, though." Will hides his own smirk behind the rim of a coffee cup as Beverly cackles with scandalized mirth.
Ripper huffs and turns his back on both of them, as if fed up with their silly antics.
The dog dutifully shadows Will throughout the day, always sticking close to his side. His intimidating size has the welcome side-effect of keeping his students from approaching him after his lectures. He shares a lackluster lunch of cafeteria steak and potatoes with Ripper, who looks forlorn at the mediocre quality of the food. The dog eating at the table with Will garners a lot of amused looks.
Halfway through the meal, Beverly joins them.
"Damn, look at you puppy, you have better table manners than some of my exes!" She snickers, scratching behind Ripper's ears before she digs into her own food.
"Any new cases I should take a look at?" Will stacks his and Ripper's empty plates and sips at another coffee.
She heaves a weary sigh. "Nope, it's been annoyingly quiet since Tier. Leaves me with far too much time I can't rightfully use for anything other than paperwork."
"I prefer that mindless drudgery to a new bloody crime scene."
"You would. And I can't really blame you, but I definitely prefer poking around inside dead bodies to filling out a barrage of boring forms."
They idly chat for a bit longer before parting ways, Beverly dejectedly shuffling back off to deal with the evils of bureaucracy and Will heading back to his classroom for his afternoon lectures.
The day remains unusually peaceful and he stops by the pet store on the way home to pick up the extra large dog bed. Ripper eyes the item with what looks like displeasure, as Will heaves it into the trunk.
When they get back, he takes all the dogs out for a long walk, throwing sticks and tennis balls for them until they tire themselves out. Throughout Ripper stays by his side, apparently not interested in such a workout.
The quiet isolation of nature allows Will's thoughts to wander and he's overcome with a sudden bout of both anger and grief that Hannibal is still missing.
He sits down on a log, head buried in his hands, and tries to get his roiling emotions back under control.
Ripper whines softly and bullies his way under Will's arms and he gratefully hugs him close, hiding his wet eyes in the dog's fur.
"I should hate the guy for what he did to me. But mostly I just feel betrayed by the way he played with my health and sanity and mourn the first real friend I thought I'd made." He vents to Ripper's patient ears. "Why do I have to miss the bastard so much?"
The dog worms out of his embrace and fetches a sturdy stick. He starts dragging it across a flat patch of soil as if he's trying to draw something.
Will feels helplessly charmed and cheered up by the dog's ridiculous antics.
"You're such a silly puppy. Come on, let's head home."
Ripper huffs and drops the stick, looking dejectedly at his clumsy scribbles.
"It's not Michelangelo, but with a bit of practice, maybe you can manage a Picasso?" Will laughs, ruffling the dog's ears.
He whistles for the rest of his pack and they trudge back home, just in time to avoid getting drenched in a sudden downpour.
Will isn't all that surprised when Ripper refuses to be banished to the new pet bed that night, crawling in next to Will once more and snuggling into his side.
Will, despite mildly scolding Ripper, is secretly happy about it. He still feels uncomfortably tender, his mind still in turmoil with his conflicting feelings about Hannibal.
He hugs Ripper close, soothed by the dog's big warm body and the steady sound of the rain pattering against the roof, thunder rumbling softly in the distance.