Chapter Text
"You caught all these fish yourself?"
No, Will wanted to answer. Someone else caught them; I just wanted to take all the credit. "Yes," he said.
"Even the salmon?" Gerry looked impressed.
"Even the salmon," Will confirmed.
"I've never been to a dinner party with dogs," Alana said, grinning. She kept looking under the table at them. Will thought Hannibal had probably seated Alana next to him out of mercy. It helped to have the dogs there, too: Winston, his head on his paws, at Will's end of the table; Buffy at Hannibal's end; Ethel and Lucy and Mal underneath the living wall. The other dogs had been shut out of the dining room as being too rambunctious to comport themselves with guests.
"They're allowed in the dining room normally," said Will. "Well, some of them. Not Buster."
"That's the little Jack Russell Terrier, right?" said Gerry. "Every single one I've ever met is a total scamp. My aunt had them."
"How many did your aunt have?" Alana asked.
"Oh my God, probably at least a dozen over the years. Not all at once, of course." Gerry gave a high little laugh. "But she always had at least two."
The other end of the table erupted in a small outburst. Mrs. Komeda looked indignant. Hannibal looked smug. "Oh God," Will said.
Mrs. Komeda glared down the table at Will. "Hannibal tells me you're leaving Baltimore."
"Not right away," Will said.
"I was telling Mrs. Komeda about the house in southern Maryland," Hannibal said. He had the overly self-satisfied expression of a cat that's just caught a bird.
"It's too far away," said Will.
"Sixteen acres," Hannibal told Mrs. Komeda. "The house itself is a renovated tobacco barn."
"Too far away," Will persisted. "It's a ninety minute commute to Baltimore. If the traffic's good."
"You can't seriously want to live in southern Maryland," said Robert.
"Will dislikes the city," said Hannibal. "And there certainly isn't enough space for the dogs here. The commute doesn't bother me; it's not as if I have to make it every day. And we'll be closer to D.C."
"I'm not always going to have seven dogs," Will said.
"True," Hannibal said. "You might have eight." That was what he'd said when Will had protested the necessity of sixteen acres. Will didn't want to repeat the argument in front of guests, so he ground his teeth.
"Well, we'll miss your dinner parties," Mrs. Komeda said with a hangdog expression. She seemed to have moved past the anger stage straight into sadness. "And just when you'd started giving them again!"
"We're not moving to the moon," Will pointed out. "We'll still have dinner parties in southern Maryland."
"Indeed," said Hannibal. "Expect invitations to a housewarming."
-----
"I can't believe you talked me into having a housewarming party," Will said. "This doesn't mean we're getting the house, by the way."
"I didn't talk you into anything," Hannibal said. "I've made suggestions; I've whispered through the chrysalis. But what emerges has always followed its own nature."
Will wasn't sure that was true, but he also wasn't sure that it wasn't true, so he kept his mouth shut and went to see the house in person.
"You'll hate it," he insisted as the city sank out of sight behind them and countryside rolled up outside the Bentley's windows. Right now it was barren: naked, spindly trees and colorless grass only recently released from the snow. In the spring it would boil up with green, and in the summer it would burst with cornfields and vines. In the autumn, the leaves would spin to gold and scarlet. Hannibal's commute to and from Baltimore would, at least, be beautiful. "You'll spend half the week in the car."
"I'll thank you to allow me to decide what I'll bear," Hannibal said. "The commute is long, yes, but I can arrange my schedule so that I see patients only four days of the week, perhaps three. Besides, I thought you had a vested interest in making sure my time is occupied," Hannibal added.
That was true enough; if Hannibal was stuck in a car crawling past the D.C. suburbs, he probably wasn't out murdering people. And the house, having been a barn, had no basement.
"There's a wonderful farmers market in Charlotte Hall," Hannibal continued. "There's wine, and excellent produce, and fresh milk. There will certainly be plenty of fishing for you. I look forward to learning how to cook crab in every manner possible. And perhaps Abigail could visit us here," he added, though that last part sounded a little hesitant.
Will blinked out the window. "She...might like that," he said to his reflection.
The house itself was over three thousand square feet. Four bedrooms, and, for some reason, five bathrooms, and a number of other rooms of indeterminate purpose. The master bedroom had a hot tub. The steps leading up to it were carpeted. "This is impractical," Will said. "You'll drip water all over it, and the carpet'll mildew."
"We can have the carpet removed, if you like." Hannibal was inspecting the walk-in closet, which was large enough to put another bed inside.
Hannibal declared the kitchen "adequate," though he frowned at the black-and-white tile on the floor. "You can gut it however you like," Will told him. "I won't even complain. Have at it."
"Perhaps if we knocked down this wall," Hannibal said.
"Sure," Will said. "The other room only has a pool table in it."
They went and looked at the garage, which was a long enough walk from the house that it would be annoying to make in the rain or snow. It had more than enough room for their cars and a riding mower, which they would need for the acreage. And, in the very back, four stalls, which explained the fenced-in pasture on part of the property.
Hannibal regarded the stalls. "Perhaps I'll keep horses again."
"Again?" said Will.
"I had a horse, when I was a boy," said Hannibal. "His name was Caesar. He was very fond of apples."
"Of course," said Will. Maybe horses would give Hannibal something to do. Will imagined Hannibal in riding breeches.
Dry grass crunched under their feet as they traipsed out to the property line. It was a long walk. Sixteen acres. Jesus. The one and a half acres Will had in Wolf Trap had felt luxurious. It'd been easy for him to walk outside and pretend he was the only one left in the world; no one to harm him, and no one for him to harm. He'd let it grow wild, mostly. He wasn't sure he'd be able to get away with that here.
"This is going to be hell to manage," Will said. At least it was fenced in.
"We can hire people to manage it," Hannibal said vaguely. He was looking up at the trees that had been planted along the property line, following the fence. Dark branches reached up against the cloudy sky.
"What?" Will asked.
"Cherry trees," Hannibal replied. "They'll bloom in a couple of months. This place will look like a field of clouds."
Will looked at the trees and tried to imagine it. He went to Washington D.C. a few times a year, had heard about the famous cherry trees. But he'd never seen them blooming; it'd always been the wrong time of year, or he'd been too busy with work.
"They bloom at the very beginning of spring, when it's just beginning to grow warmer," said Hannibal. "In Japan they have viewing parties, picnicking with sake under the trees and enjoying their beauty. But they bloom very briefly: for one week, perhaps two. They're a symbol of the ephemeral nature of life. Sudden beauty, blossoming at the tapering edge of winter, and then fading away again."
Will looked back up at the trees. He had a sudden vivid image of a foam of pale blossoms, petals showering down in the breeze. They'd show up as light spots against Clay's dark fur. "A couple months, you said?"
Hannibal nodded.
"Hell," said Will. "Maybe we can get moved in by then."
-----
"Hm." Jack looked down at the change of address form, then back up at Will. "Are congratulations in order?"
Will didn't know what to do with his hands, so he kept them at his sides. "Uh."
Jack tapped the corner of the form against his desk. He wasn't smiling. "I guess this means we'll have to find you a new therapist."
"I have a new therapist," Will said. "Dr. Du Maurier. Hannibal's been taking care of it."
"I'm glad to hear it." Jack leaned back in his chair. "I don't need to worry about anything untoward happening on my watch, do I?"
"Past or future?" Will asked.
"Both."
"No," said Will. "Nothing, uh, untoward."
"Good." Jack laced his fingers together over his stomach. "Because I'd hate to have to be concerned. I don't want to be kept up nights worrying."
"You need your beauty sleep," said Will.
Jack nodded. "I hope I'm invited to the housewarming," he went on.
"What?" said Will.
"Me and Bella," Jack corrected. "I mean, technically I introduced you. I hope this gives me special privileges."
"What kind of privileges?" Will asked, no longer certain where this conversation was going. He supposed he couldn't be hallucinating it.
"First dibs at Dr. Lecter's table," said Jack. "Or should I be calling him Hannibal now?"
-----
"It sounds as if you've made a choice," said Dr. Du Maurier.
"Yeah," Will said.
He looked across at her and wondered how much she knew. She knew something; probably more than Will himself had, when he'd started seeing her. But not all of it. If she'd known all of it, she wouldn't still be here. But she was smart. Smart enough to know that she didn't want to know.
"I don't justify his actions," said Will. "And I didn't choose these emotions. Neither did he. But we choose how our emotions manifest in the world as actions. Isn't that right?"
Dr. Du Maurier gave a single, slow nod.
"So I've given him the choice," said Will. "He makes his choices, and I make mine. Our choices influence each other's choices, and each other's actions. But for now, we'll make those choices together, for now."
"That sounds like the foundation of a healthy relationship."
Will startled himself--even Dr. Du Maurier gave a series of rapid blinks--with a burst of laughter, machine gun loud in the silence of her room.
-----
The property line did look capped by a sea of clouds.
It was a blue-sky day, cool and a little windy. Not ideal picnic weather, but Hannibal nonetheless packed a basket. Will carried the blanket under his arm. The dogs roved around them. Harvard ran off at one point and came back with a stick, which Chester immediately wanted.
Will sprawled on the blanket. Every little gust of wind showered petals on them like snow. It did show up as light spots on Clay's dark fur. The dogs trotted around with their tongues lolling and wrestling with Harvard's stick, except for Mal, who was old and wanted to lie on the blanket with the humans, and Buffy, who wanted to snuggle up to Hannibal's leg.
Hannibal unpacked their lunches: mysterious flat packages wrapped up in cloth; a glass container of the season's first strawberries, already sliced; a bottle of sake, and two small sake cups. Will had stayed out of the kitchen that morning, so as to be out of Hannibal's way as he made dramatic clanks and clings. "Whatever that is, I hope you don't expect me to eat it with chopsticks," Will said.
"It's permissible to eat with your hands." Hannibal opened one of the cloths, revealing a flat black box. He removed the lid and handed it to Will.
The box turned out to be separated into compartments: in one were little bits of what looked like fried chicken; in another was what looked like sushi, some of it topped with seafood and some of it topped with pink stuff and some of it rolled in seaweed; and in the third were little brightly colored bits of Will had no idea what. Something edible, presumably.
Hannibal went round the box in a clockwise fashion. "Chicken karaage, temari sushi, rice balls topped with pickled cherry blossoms, grilled salmon rolls, and pickled daikon radish and carrots."
"Sounds delicious," Will said, though he wasn't sure about pickled cherry blossoms. But they did turn out to be delicious. Turned out he liked pickles from every country.
Attracted by the smell of food, some of the other dogs came nosing around. After Will and Hannibal pushed them away enough times, they gave up. Will munched on a bit of fried chicken and tried not to think about all the times his food hadn't been chicken. They'd gone down to the basement and gotten rid of all of it: Will had driven everything to the dump himself, along with other detritus and redundancies that neither of them wanted to store or sell or donate. It probably hadn't been visible or suspicious alongside Will's old, ratty, dog-chewed armchair or Hannibal's old curtains.
"What is it going to be like, after?" Will asked.
"What is it like now?" Hannibal asked.
"It feels good," Will admitted. "Easy, almost."
Hannibal finished eating one of his rice balls and put down his lunchbox. Buffy eyed it but stayed where she was, pressed against Hannibal's thigh. "Almost, but not quite. Which is just as well."
"Yeah." Will looked down at his own food. He could see that Hannibal had spent a great deal of time and care in its composition: the colors of the ingredients; the size and shape of each component; even the pickles had looked like they'd been arranged with tweezers to lie just so. "It's been a busy few months. Buying this house, then packing, moving, unpacking. Now we're just going to be living, and...what then?"
Hannibal stretched out his legs and leaned back on his hands. "You'll worry that I'm becoming bored. I'll resent that you don't trust me to keep my word. We'll fight."
Will swallowed.
"But," and here Hannibal smiled, faintly, "I find that I like being the focus of your attention."
"Even when we're fighting?" Will asked.
"Perhaps especially so." Hannibal picked up his lunchbox. "Neither of us knows what to do with things that come easily. If we find ourselves becoming complacent, I'm sure that one of us will upset the balance."
Will popped another rice ball in his mouth and chewed. The rice was sweet and slightly tangy; the flesh cool and firm. He looked at Hannibal out of the corner of his eye. Hannibal was smiling. "You, you mean. You'll upset the balance."
Hannibal beamed at him, content as a cat in the sun. "Europe is always an option."
Will gave him a look. He hoped it came across as a glare, but he suspected it was more long-suffering.
"You worry too much, Will," Hannibal said, and he ate another rice ball, continuing to smile. "You'd be much more comfortable if you relaxed with yourself."
---end---