Chapter 1: New Neighbors
Chapter Text
A/N: Hello, people!
I don't own Hannibal.
I have no beta.
ENJOY!
CHECK ME OUT ON TUMBLR. HELLY-WATERMELONSMELLINFELLON.
By: baby_cinema
The new neighbor was a strange one. He had driven up one day in the early Autumn, with a single moving truck full of rustic furniture. This was a man who was used to living in the middle of nowhere and did not fancy electronics in the least. Not a single television had been among the load brought into the cabin.
The man dressed in denim trousers and quality boots to ward off the cold. His buttoned shirt was red and brown plaid and his coat was heavy and thick to conserve warmth. His hair was brown and curled every which way, and there was well-trimmed facial hair to give the appearance of maturity. Beneath his handsome features was a youthful face that wouldn't earn him any respect if not for the hair.
Settling in took less time than anticipated. Duncan sat at the window for a few hours, simply watching as the people came and went. The neighbor was awkward with the movers. He didn't make eye contact with any of them, nor did he try to strike up a conversation while they worked, but he did tip them for their service and offer them each an energy drink for the road.
Anti-social but not inconsiderate.
The man stared up at the cabin for several moments, before getting in his station wagon(an older Volvo model) and disappearing down the leafy trail.
Duncan sat in contemplation of all he'd witnessed. Patterns that could possibly begin, or continue if they already existed. Problems that could arise from the man being his neighbor at all.
He seemed private at least. Not likely to impose himself upon Duncan for anything at all. One does not move out to the middle of nowhere if they seek interaction with humanity. It would be a counterproductive action at best.
After two and half more hours of sitting and thinking, the man returned and this time, he brought noise with him. Specifically, seven dogs who rushed out of the vehicle to run around the cabin and scent the area. Each claimed a particular section, tails wagging in excitement. Meanwhile, the neighbor withdrew several bags of groceries from his trunk and proceeded right into the cabin.
Minutes later, he returned to the veranda and gave a single, piercing whistle that ascended through two octaves. The dogs all ceased what they were doing to join him, each seated perfectly. They weren't newly acquired, he'd already owned them for some time and just transported them from their last home. He had good control over them too.
A kind master.
Each dog was given a treat and then allowed into the house one at a time.
Duncan was… intrigued.
Will was aware that he had a neighbor, he just hadn't ever seen them outside before. Said neighbor, who wasn't very far away either, seemed to mind their own business. Will didn't even know their name, though he did appreciate being left alone. Now that he was as far from being normal as possible, pretending to be was too much of a hassle these days. He didn't want to have to pretend out here where he'd come for solitude.
It was a wide space with decent hunting and fishing options. Next to no people around. A beautiful landscape. Far as fuck away from Maryland and reminders of… him. It removed the ease of getting a boat across the ocean and finding Hannibal himself.
Yes, he approved of his choice.
And being this far away would make it even harder for Jack to come and bother him about murderers and death.
And his income relied upon scientific papers, a journal breaking down the mentalities of the serial killers he'd worked to bring in during his time as a Special Agent, that he'd been assured would become part of the FBI Academy's curriculum in the future. Another book on identifying a killer's reason through a body's state upon discovery.
All he had to do was write something vaguely dramatic and about serial killers every year and he'd be financially set for life. Alana, before he'd taken his leave, even suggested fiction as a way to spend his time since he didn't have a 'real job' to pass the time with anymore.
He might just do it too. His imagination was descriptive enough. Mystery, Horror, and Suspense would be up his alley. He'd have to see how he felt about it later.
Will was looking forward to peace and serenity. And nothing of his old life remained save for the dogs.
There was a calm up in the mountains as the snow fell to single the beginning of the colder season. His new neighbor had been there for a month already and had made no attempts to meet Duncan. Hadn't come near Duncan's line of the property. Hadn't even spared a glance for his cabin either. He was perfectly uninterested.
Every day at dawn, he would walk out to retrieve the post from down the road. He'd do it on foot too, like Duncan preferred. In his hand would be a steaming mug. He couldn't tell if it was coffee, tea, or cocoa. Any seemed likely without knowing about personal about the man. He would then returned to the house and let the dogs out for several minutes. Might even play a game of fetch with some. He'd then feed them, plus himself finally, and sit down on the veranda and begin typing on his laptop.
It was a newer model. Probably the only massively luxury item he possessed. His movements were sure and even, already knowing what he wanted to say. Writing for pleasure instead of work most likely.
He'd do this for hours and sometimes forget to eat lunch. Then there would be dinner at exactly six, where the dogs would be fed too. He'd disappear inside for a couple hours, before letting the dogs out for another run.
His evenings ended around ten or eleven depending on how he was feeling. Lather, rinse, repeat. For thirty days. Without a deviation from the basic list of actions either.
He was as boring as Duncan was.
And yet something made him think. He appeared to be as boring as Duncan was. Like a frigid iceberg warding off all livings things. And yet icebergs were notorious for being incredibly massive structures beneath the surface, with danger levels too high to imagine. Just because he looked boring didn't mean he was boring, and that was what was interesting about him.
The sound of the gunshot startled him awake and had him reaching for the nearest weapon he had, which was a weighted knife beneath his pillow. He looked around the cabin, searching for danger, and finding none. Not with his eyes, ears, or nose.
His heart and breathing calmed as the seconds passed and nothing attacked him. Duncan got up and shuffled toward the front door to peer outside, knife still in hand just in case.
He found his neighbor hauling a dead deer up the road in a red wagon. A single shot was used to take it down, meaning he had skill with a firearm and was a decent shot with it too. A perfect headshot.
Duncan watched as the man retrieved a thick, wooden table from the shed and began illegally mutilating the carcass then and there. Probably to avoid making a mess of his house. His movements were sure. He'd done this many times already and didn't even need to pay close attention while his hands worked. He had good precision with a knife. The meat came free without a struggle.
Once he determined there to be no danger, Duncan returned to his bed and stared up at the ceiling in contemplation. His interest had been piqued.
For the first time in a very long time… he wanted to converse with someone outside of work. Specifically the interesting man who had moved in near him.
Will got his first look at his neighbor after a month of living in Washington, and nearly had a heart attack. Hannibal. Or rather, Hannibal's face.
He'd moved out here to avoid the temptation of following Hannibal across the Atlantic. He'd been so close to going upon near-full recovery. So close to taking his boat out to Italy and finding Hannibal himself. He'd even known where to start looking. Had nightmares of himself in those very places, searching for small wisps of Hannibal's essence, always missing him by just a hair and regretting it every time.
Hannibal had left him, and so Will would do so in return. But that didn't seem to be working for him.
Here he was, hoping to rid himself of Hannibal for as long as he could, and he was assaulted by the man's distinctive face so early in the morning. The cheekbones and lips and brow bone.
And yet… it wasn't Hannibal.
The man was about the same age, but his hair wasn't dark blond. It was more like salt and pepper. He had a few more wrinkles, as well as a mustache that matched. And he was smoking. Hannibal detested everything about cigarettes and anything that could be smoked. Mostly because of the scent and how it seeped into everything it came near. But also because it tainted the meat. Hannibal wouldn't smoke for any reason.
Hannibal would also prefer a more opulent abode and a nicer vehicle. And if he knew where Will was moving, he wouldn't be foolish enough to move there as well because the FBI knew where Will lived also and could very well find him at any time they decided that they wanted to manipulate him again. So no, it wasn't Hannibal. But he did have Hannibal's looks. Those dastardly cheekbones and thin lips and piercing eyes with near-invisible eyebrows. A face that Will had imagined doing many unsavory things to, though not all were necessarily bad.
Will's neighbor seemed emotionless on the surface, unlike Hannibal who tended to look delighted and curious about most anything around him all the time. Unless someone was being rude of course. Will could sense a fellow recluse and introvert in his neighbor. A man who moved out to somewhere like this certainly wasn't doing it in hopes of finding company. He preferred to be alone but with civilization nearby just in case it was necessary. Probably didn't know about the benefits of online shopping.
Once Will was certain that he was emotionally stable enough to handle living next to Hannibal's physical twin, he was able to go about his morning routine like usual. Well, he tried to at least. The man sat on his front steps and his dark eyes roamed the woods, sometimes landing on Will, but never making the effort to engage him in conversation. He looked as curious as Will felt, but didn't seem the type to talk to strangers.
And Will felt self-conscious for the first time in a while. More than he did when he drove to town in order to get groceries and the talkative people he met there tried to poke and prod him about his life. A small town was different than a big city. In places like this, people had all the time in the world and usually weren't in a hurry. That was why they always wanted to talk and gossip about the goings on, and why getting away from them took so damn long.
December would be coming upon them soon and the snow was falling more and more by the day. Not packing snow, but that would eventually change and they'd wake up one morning to find themselves covered in it and with no way to escape.
Will had already placed an order for lumber for the wood-burning stove he had, and he'd devised a meal plan that would revolve mostly around fish. The dogs would also need enough food for the winter because getting out would be hell and his car wasn't the best on snowy inclines.
It had been years since Will was unprepared for a winter. He would not allow this one to break his record.
The Hannibal look alike didn't seem concerned about the weather at all. He just sat on his porch and smoked. Each day he left around four and came back at six. He minded his own business even if he was curious about Will. It was all very quaint.
Duncan watched as his neighbor returned with even more groceries than ever before from this most recent trip to town. The common stocking up for the winter that most did in bulk. Probably to avoid having to leave the house as much as possible in case something tragic happened.
He left for town even less than Duncan did, which was impressive.
The dogs were let out as usual and this time, one of them, one of the smaller ones that was brown and white, waddled on over toward Duncan's property, curiosity present. The tail didn't wag, but the creature wasn't growling at him, which he decided was a plus.
"Buster!" the voice of his neighbor sounded for the first time. Save for the time with the movers, the man had never spoken. And even then, Duncan had been watching through a shut window and hadn't heard a thing he'd said to the other men.
His voice wasn't necessarily deep, but had a bit of a rasp to it, and that tinted on something darker.
The dog - 'Buster', his mind supplied - turned back toward his master, but then looked back to Duncan, still curious. And because of that, the other dogs seemed to be curious too, hesitantly moving closer and closer to get to know the strange man they hadn't seen before. Their heads lifted to scent the air around him. He wondered what they smelled.
The jarring sound of their master's high-pitched whistle had them all scampering for their home immediately. Still well-behaved even if their curiosity had them stepping out of line for a moment.
"Sorry about them," the man said as he came over himself. He was about Duncan's height, maybe a little shorter. He looked mildly uncomfortable but far more striking up close. His eyes were tortured and very expressive. "You don't mind if they get too close to your house, do you? Are you allergic to dogs?"
He hummed in return. "No." Yes, that was the best he could manage after wanting to speak to the man for days. Pretending to be normal was so stressful. And to think, when his birthday rolled around, he would be forced to do this for the rest of his life. Because for some reason, assassins over the age of 50 were considered liabilities to the company.
"I don't mind dogs and I'm not allergic," he told the other man, hoping to get something else from him now that they were talking to one another. Outside of business, he wasn't the best at speaking.
There seemed to be a moment of contemplation, before the other man extended his hand. "I'm Will Graham."
Finally. Progress. "Duncan Vizla," he said in returned. Will's hand was warm and his shake was firm. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Will."
Will smiled a small smile, and that was when Duncan knew things up on their mountain were going to change.
A/N: The first is done!
How was it? Let me know!
Check out my other Hannigram fics!
See ya! :D
CHECK ME OUT ON TUMBLR. HELLY-WATERMELONSMELLINFELLON.
Chapter 2: Getting Acquainted/Addicted
Summary:
Talking, regretting, and longing.
Notes:
-Both boys take a few steps out of their comfort zones to sate their curiosity. They just end up more invested in each other than before.
-And there's some Hannibal because why not? We don't want him to be happy right now.
Chapter Text
A/N: Hello, people!
I don't own Hannibal.
I have no beta.
ENJOY!
CHECK ME OUT ON TUMBLR. HELLY-WATERMELONSMELLINFELLON.
By: baby_cinema!
"Good evening, Dr. Fell! I have a few questions about the lecture from this afternoon!"
Hannibal spared a small but utterly fake smile for the student approaching him with questions. While he would be perfectly accepting of answering genuine questions about the coursework at any time, he knew very well that this student in particular wasn't interested in learning about Dante. He fancied Hannibal. His looks specifically. He was also aware that Roman Fell, the person Hannibal was impersonating for the time being, was married.
And he didn't care.
How rude.
Months of this and it was like being trapped in a washing machine, with the cycle on repeat over and over. Living in Florance once more wasn't as... gratifying as he'd believed it would be.
Not when he was without Will. Not when he was trapped with Bedelia's ever-present cynicism and bitterness at everything.
And while yes, it was his fault for bringing her along in the first place through a barely concealed threat, he'd expected things to be much more pleasant. Good food. Good company. Good location. Good job. And yet... he was so very bored.
And he, while reluctant to admit it because he was still hurt in some ways and felt vulnerable when thinking about what had happened, missed Will Graham.
The attentions of the young man before him weren't the sort Hannibal wanted. They were from the wrong person entirely and he felt ill just thinking about someone else wanting him the way he wanted Will to want him.
Not like that would happen any time soon of course. Will was exceptionally dense when it came to noting mens' interest in him.
The second time Will spoke with Duncan Vizla, it was to receive an invitation for coffee inside the man's own home. He was obviously as used to interaction with people as Will was, and his awkwardness actually made Will feel less awkward. To know that someone else felt the same made him feel calm in a sense, and less tense about the situation.
He'd accepted, curious to learn more about the man. To understand what he was like as a person. He was indeed a lot like Hannibal, but there were differences too. He wasn't the most polite for starters. Not going out of his way to be an asshole but he wasn't observing all the rule polite society had created so long ago. He didn't dress like he had a lot of money. His accent wasn't as pronounced as Hannibal's and it wasn't even the same to begin with. Will couldn't place its origin.
Duncan's home was spotless and everything was lined up perfectly. Like Hannibal. Serial killers tended to prefer their personal space to be neat and orderly, down to every last edge lining up to perfection and not a single hair out of place. It was very possible Duncan was a serial killer, even if he didn't hold himself like one. And if so, he was one of the least pretentious killers Will had ever met.
He offered Will a seat at the table that was right in front of the window. One that provided a good look at not only Will's cabin not too far off, but everything around their space. The trees, the sky, and the mountains in the distance. It was breathtaking and no doubt looked wonderful at night. UP where they could see all the stars because they lived away from civilization.
And yet while that view was certainly lovely, Will was unable to stop himself from staring at Duncan, marveling on how much he looked like Hannibal and yet didn't feel like him at all.
"Is there something on my face?"
Will's lips pursed in contemplation. "You look a lot like my…" Just what was Hannibal to him now? Their relationship was difficult to sift through and understand, even now.
"Lover?" Duncan suggested quietly, if a bit awkwardly.
"No… we didn't do anything like that. Well- I mean we did but didn't. I am not explaining this very well, am I?"
"No," Duncan agreed frankly, as he set two cups on the table and took a seat across from Will. A man of few words it seemed.
"Looking at it now, there were many situations where they were intense sexual undertones. I can't believe I missed that fact while they were happening. Anyway, we never did anything that had sex as an outcome or desire. I would say he was my friend… he would say we are Achilles and Patroclus. He was sketching a famous painting of them, but putting our faces on their bodies when he made the allusion."
"Was?" Duncan asked before sipping his coffee. He still wasn't looking exactly at Will. More like at Will's collar. A fellow person who didn't like eye contact all that much, though most likely for different reasons.
Will sighed. "It's complicated. He's alive somewhere and gallivanting across Europe. We did not part on good terms and I moved here to avoid the temptation to hunt him down and…" He stopped, unsure of what it was he wanted to do to Hannibal. He was unsure of a lot of things where Hannibal was concerned, and it was annoying.
"Kill him?" Duncan suggested easily, as if the option wasn't a concerning one to normal folk. Then again, they weren't exactly normal now, were they? It was obvious nothing about Duncan was 'normal'.
"Kill, join, apologize to, make him apologize to me. There's a lot to unpack. So when I stare at you I'm just reminded of him, and yet also reminded of how you differ, and it's fascinating."
Will's gaze had to be very intense because he finally managed to capture Duncan's full attention, dark brown meeting bright blue. Darker than Hannibal's near burgundy eyes.
"Just how many people have you killed?" the former profiler decided to ask, knowing it was a dangerous chance but wanting an answer.
There was a moment of surprise and panic. But only a moment. Will Graham did not look as if he was going to judge him. He believed fully that Duncan had in fact killed people before and had casually asked after the number.
He didn't seem to be looking for information to use against Duncan. Not when he'd already given up some personal pieces of himself in the process. He hadn't lied either. It was easy to tell when people lied, because the body had a physical reaction.
Whatever he had gone through was still affecting him, and seeing Duncan's face brought it all back into stunning clarity that might not be the best for a recovering man to deal with. Recovering from what was still a question left unanswered, but he could guess a bit at what had happened between Will Graham and his 'friend' if the grief on his face was anything to go by.
"What makes you so sure I've killed anyone?" he chose to say in return, curious.
How did Will Graham see him? Most people saw a socially awkward man who might be a war veteran if they got a good look at his stances and injuries. But Will obviously didn't see that, and that was the most intriguing part.
Just who was Will Graham?
Will smirked, his coffee still remaining untouched. "Because I apparently have a type. I seem to only attract somewhat damaged souls with a high capacity for violence and talent for murder. At least those who truly want to get to know the real me and don't plan on 'making me better again'." Hannibal, Abigail, Stammets, Brown, and many more killers. "So what's your baggage, Duncan?"
The man before him considered his coffee, and then looked out the window to his right, studying anything but Will.
"The approach of forced retirement from being an assassin-for-hire once I reach fifty in a few weeks." He sounded put out over it too. "Apparently old age starts now and makes us a liability to the company's clean record or some such nonsense." It was the most he'd said in a single sitting since their meeting.
Will really had all the luck, huh? Flee from the memory of one killer, walk into the arms of another. Perhaps this was supposed to be a sign of what he truly needed in his life. Will had always been drawn to the horrorsbeauty of murder. It seemed as if there was no way he'd avoid it any time soon, even when he tried. Maybe this was the world he was meant to be in after all. Fate can only whack you upside the head enough times for something to finally stick.
And yes, Will was beginning to believe that Fate was a real thing. This kind of shit didn't just happen over and over. Coincidence wasn't that common of a thing.
"Is old age making you a liability?" he asked, hoping for clarification.
Duncan's dark gaze was telling enough. He was still in his prime. He could probably murder as seamlessly as Hannibal did. Maybe even better if he actually trained to do it. You don't manage to be an assassin for so long without being good at your job. Duncan not being dead yet proved that he was very good at what he did.
"And you'll miss the rush you get," Will concluded. "The sights and sounds. The fun associated with being skilled unlike many others in your profession, and successfully making a hit they couldn't hope to without your level of finesse. Retirement takes all that away. Your purpose gone. No other things out there that require your specific list of talents."
He'd hit the nail on the head judging by how Duncan's hands tightened on his mug.
"And yet you also want peace and tranquility. So the question is how do you obtain both?"
They moved from coffee to whiskey. Specifically Will's whiskey. In Will's cabin.
He'd brought Duncan over and that was when he learned about Will's fascination with alcohol. There was an entire table in the lounge dedicated to an assortment of whiskey and wine. Each at a different level of fullness but none were unopened.
"I like a good drink," was all the man when he caught Duncan's interested look. He proceeded to pour himself more than a generous size of whiskey, and downed the entire bit at once.
"You play chess?"
He nodded. It had been a while, but he did indeed play. Few liked playing these days. Few could manage to sit still long enough for a game too.
"I'll be right back."
While Will was gone, Duncan took the opportunity to look around, taking in the details that painted Will Graham's personal portrait.
It was all rustic charm. Will had a piano of his own. A desk specifically for crafting fishing lures. Some very intricate pieces rested on the wood, and looked too good to use. Dog beds of all sizes littered the floor along with shag rugs in the color brown. Pictures of plants hung on the walls. Plaid blankets thrown over each sofa and chair. It was all for comfort and not for luxury.
Will returned with a large box that he placed on his kitchen table. Inside ended up being a glass chess set. "Clear glass or frosted glass?" Will asked as he pulled the pieces from the styrofoam holder.
"Frosted."
The younger man hummed.
He settled into the seat he was shown, and accepted his own glass of whiskey.
What proceeded was an intense game that took two hours and never-ending plotting. And in the end he had Will in check with a Knight, but when Will moved his King he got him in checkmate immediately it, and when Duncan moved his own King to avoid the checkmate, he found himself facing Will's Rook in checkmate. That had never happened to him before. Any time he'd played someone in chess, he'd won. Even if the game took hours to work through and he only ended up with a single piece in the end.
"That's the biggest challenge I've ever been given in a game of chess. Impressive," Will told him, the same, small smile making an appearance again like when they'd met.
He inclined his head in agreement. It was interesting to watch how Will's mind worked in this capacity. He would never be able to use the same strategy on Duncan again because it had already been memorized and analyzed. Rarely did he make mistakes, but he always learned from them. And he even learned how to make more efficient moves either on a game board, or in real life.
Next time he would know how to counter Will's go-to strategy.
And he truly felt like there would be a next time. Both of them were too intrigued by each other to stop associating now. Not when the floodgates had been opened.
"Do you like fish?"
It was a week later that Duncan came back from Triple Oak - which was even further than the town of Bonners Ferry, which Will preferred to frequent because it was closer - a little more surly than normal. When Will asked, the man murmured something about 'two weeks until I'm fifty' and Will understood. Two weeks until he was laid off essentially.
"I received one last job offer," Duncan revealed that evening over dinner. "One million ahead of time and one million once the deed is done."
"Are you going to take it up?" Will wondered when he became so blasé about murder. "One last hurrah or something like that?"
Duncan fingered a cigarette. It wasn't lit since neither of them liked smoking indoors, but it seemed to be a bit of a habit of his. When Will had asked why he smoked when he knew it could kill him, Duncan admitted to believing it wouldn't ever be the smokes that got him. And Will had nothing to say in response to that, so he'd left the matter alone.
"I was thinking of doing it," Duncan admitted. "But this business requires constant changing of SIM cards and memory chips. Always a new mobile or laptop. Always erasing any proof and uploading viruses to anything with the potential to be incriminating at some point. i don't even use a smartphone because they're so easy to hack."
Wow. Will was so glad he wasn't in the assassin business. Hell, Hannibal's little hobby sounded easier to plan for and manage one's life around. And Hannibal used smartphones and tablets all the damn time without worry.
"Then you need to ask yourself if two million dollars is truly worth it in the end," said Will, placing some grilled fish onto Duncan's plate. "Are you financially stable enough without it, or do you simply like having money?"
Will couldn't fault him if his answer was the latter reason. Will liked having money too. Growing up without any and then finally being stable, was the greatest feeling in the world. He didn't know Duncan's past, didn't even know if his name was truly Duncan, and he didn't plan on asking any time soon. Sometimes a person's past was their own business until they decided to share it willingly.
Duncan looked torn and awkward. "You aren't… angry that I'm considering it?"
Placing his hands on the table so they were visibly not a threat, Will said earnestly, "I like killing."
Dark eyes widened slightly.
"I like the rush it gives me. I especially like when it's done to those I personally deem horrible. I like the possibilities laid before me when a victim is present. I like all of it and I spent a very long time trying not to and pretending I hated it. If my… friend taught me anything, it's that running from who I am will only hold me back. So yes, I like murder. I like the tableau of a serial killer. I'm not normal and pretending that I am is a hassle, and my moral compass is more crooked than ever before. Who am I to judge your interests when mine are so clearly fucked up too?"
They stared one another down for several minutes in pure silence. Duncan's gaze was penetrating and wistful in a sense. Relief also seeped out of every pore.
"Is your friend like us?"
Will smirked though it was harmless. "I'm not so sure about you. I can feel that you're dangerous, and even get a sense of your personality and how you operate, but if it's you up against him I'm not certain. Between us, well, if you asked him, he would say I'm his equal, because that is what he spent months on fashioning me into. Someone like him and yet different enough to be my own person. The potential was always there, it simply had to be moulded like clay to what he believed was necessary. If you're asking my opinion on what his claim would be, I'd say he's being sentimental over finally having someone who understands him.
"We are both right."
And wasn't that the kicker?
They sat in silence, eating their fish and caught up in their own thoughts.
Will enjoyed the company more than he believed he would. Duncan was a lot like him and yet… not. Just as he was with Hannibal.
"Well, whatever you choose in regards to this mission of yours, make sure you're safe."
Duncan's 'job' in Belarus was done very quickly. Ridiculously quickly in fact. And he was not pleased.
It was a set up. Along the line, someone had set him up. Sure he'd gotten the money in the end, as well as the mark, but he'd been the true target and he wanted some damn answers.
He almost crushed his mobile in the process. Perhaps it was a good thing he would no longer be working for Blut by the end of the next week. Maybe this life was getting to be a bit too much for him.
This wasn't the first failed assassination attempt on his life, but that didn't mean he wanted more of them.
He would return to America. To Washington. To Will. And at some point he'd take Will to Triple Oak, which was a far better town than Bonners Ferry in his opinion, not that Will understood why he'd live so far from his own bank. Sure, the drive through Idaho was a little taxing and it took a bit longer to get there compared to Bonners Ferry, but it was worth it. He'd even take Will to his favorite diner at some point so he could try the cobbler.
Suddenly he felt wrong about sleeping with the woman, even if it was only done for a cover. Not when he would prefer to spend his time with Will, even if it was just to drink whiskey and sit in the snow and listen to him bitch about people being annoying. They'd personally known each other for only two weeks and already Will Graham was probably his favorite person currently alive.
Was it pathetic that he felt so strongly about a man he barely knew? It did seem to say something about his life.
Briefly, he entertained the ludacris notion that Will was another assassin. One possibly sent to do him in. He admitted to liking murder. He admitted to not being that decent of a person. He came out of nowhere, was sparse on information about himself and his past, and didn't make eye contact with anyone it seemed.
And yet… Duncan hadn't exactly been the most forthcoming of people either. He talked even less than Will did. And while Will liked killing, he obviously wasn't doing it all the time.
It was difficult to imagine Will as an assassin. He probably knew how to kill in many different ways, but not like an assassin. The whole point of an assassination was to hopefully not flirt with danger and Will, with the way he spoke, seemed to prefer the intimate kind of murder, which required the hands only. That meant getting up close and personal with a target, which wasn't smart.
Will would not be a good assassin, even if he could shoot a deer from a decent distance and get a killshot with a single bullet. He didn't have the patience to see a hit through.
No, Will was not an assassin sent to do him in. He felt ashamed of himself for even considering it.
A/N: Another is done!
How was it? Let me know!
Check out my other Hannigram fics!
See ya! :D
CHECK ME OUT ON TUMBLR. HELLY-WATERMELONSMELLINFELLON.
Chapter 3: Excitement
Summary:
Things gettin' a bit heated on the mountain.
Notes:
-There is sex. The tags said it would happen. If you're shocked then IDK what to tell you.
-Drama.
-Duncan being sweet.
Chapter Text
A/N: Hello, people!
I don't own Hannibal.
I have no beta.
ENJOY!
CHECK ME OUT ON TUMBLR. HELLY-WATERMELONSMELLINFELLON.
By: baby_cinema.
The incessant barking of the dogs alerted him to the fact that Duncan had returned. Will rubbed his eyes and peered out the window to see what was going on. It was dark out still, meaning he hadn't been sleeping for very long. Certainly not the whole night.
Looking out the window showed the other man carefully going about unloading his trunk and trying to be quiet for Will's sake. It was a nice gesture. Will waited for him to be safely inside his own cabin before turning over and deciding to fall back asleep.
He could surprise the other man with breakfast later in the morning. He was too tired at present to get out of bed, and surely Duncan would understand.
"Good morning, I brought food," Will said at his door around eleven. It was closer to the afternoon that morning really.
The man sent him a bland look, as if guessing what was going through his head. "I brought brunch." He came prepared for the time of day exactly. And it smelled delicious, so Duncan obviously wouldn't turn him away.
Duncan's cabin wasn't as grand as Will's. Not as expensive to maintain either, but he liked it as it was. And he liked Will placing a massive platter of food on his table with intent to stay and talk.
"So did you have fun?" Will asked as he rummaged through Duncan's sparse cupboards for plates. He hadn't thought to buy multiple sets of anything because he'd figured he'd be alone up int he mountains.
He considered the job. Before the fact that he'd been expected and someone wanted to kill him… yes, he'd had fun. The usual sensation he experienced when on a job.
"No," he decided to say instead, though judging by the smirk on Will's face, that lie was easily picked up on. Will didn't call him out though.
"Did you ever have a normal job before this?" Will asked moments later as they sat down for the meal.
He shook his head. He'd been in the business for a very long time. Before he even got a driving license. In any country. "What did you do for a living before coming here?"
Will snorted. "When specifically?"
"Everything you've ever done." He was curious and he wanted to know everything! What had brought Will Graham to this point in his life that he would choose seclusion over anything else?
"Hm… Lawn mower, mechanic for cars, mechanic for boats, janitor, waiter, cashier, sex worker, member of the Louisiana State Police force, writer, Professor of Criminal and Forensic Psychology at the FBI Academy, Special Agent Criminal Profiler for the FBI, and now I write again on how to capture serial killers. Started out in poverty, never being able to stay in one place for too long and sometimes not even living in a house, to a steady lifestyle of my own that I got to on my own."
During the entire clipped explanation, Duncan's eyebrows rose steadily with each new point. Will had some very big connections and to come all the way from nothing was very impressive. His story was a journey. Duncan's story wasn't much like that at all.
And unfortunately, his treacherous mind hit him with a thought of Will trying to capture him for the FBI. That maybe he was lying about killing and liking it.
Being an assassin always meant having to take everything you heard as a grain of salt. Always watching your back for possible danger. Always doubting the people around you. But Will didn't seem manipulative.
But that doesn't mean he can't be, Duncan's mind whispered. And it was right of course.
He didn't seem like he wanted to harm Duncan or his way of life.
But that doesn't mean he can't, that seedy voice whispered again. Duncan wanted to strangle it into submission.
"You don't watch much TV, do you?" Will asked out of nowhere, looking a bit amused.
"No." He had one but didn't find much use for it.
"Perhaps that's for the better."
Duncan took up his mug, the coffee smelling especially good now that he was relatively full from a good meal. It was nice to eat something filling instead of fast food after a hit. His home was warm and comfortable, very much unlike it usually was. He wasn't oblivious to the fact that the only difference between then and now, was Will's presence.
Will made things interesting.
And that reminded him of something.
He held up a hand of Will to wait patiently, and stood from the table to go and retrieve the gift he'd gotten for Will on his way back. He was not the best at socializing, but even he could pick up on other people's interests. Will's were pretty self-explanatory if one decided to look around his house long enough.
Will's face, when he came back into the room with a sleepy, French Bull Dog, was priceless.
"Here. I saw him and thought of you," was the awkward explanation Duncan managed to give.
Will took the pup carefully into his arms, a charming smile lighting up his face and he cooed in the creature's ear. "I'm calling you Rusty."
Duncan had to watch as Will introduced his new pet to the rest of his dogs, and found himself amused by the extra work Will put into 'expanding his family' as he called it. Each dog scented their new companion, and then said companion was given a bath in a metal tub by Will's hearth, and finally introduced to the food Will personally made for his canine companions.
"Thank you, Duncan," said Will that evening as he pet Rusty's head.
It was nice to hear his name being said in a pleasant way for once, without any negative connotations attached.
Seven days until his fiftieth birthday. After telling Vivian to never contact him ever again, he'd assumed that his life of excitement would be done and over with. There was nothing left for him to do and seven days wouldn't really be enough time to see any substantial jobs handled. He may be good but not that good. Duncan wasn't a god no matter how often some in the business revered him as such.
And yet he was wrong about the lack of excitement it seemed.
It happened in the evening. Like these things tended to. Night time was often a difficult time of day to navigate for anyone not trained for those specific conditions. It could put one's prey in a frazzled state of mind and make it easier to take them down without a hassle. Night was the optimal period to attack and history had demonstrated over and over.
Thinking back on how it happened, annoyed him. He'd been having a nice evening. Even better than those of the previous two weeks. And why would this night be any different, one might ask? What could make this night so special when life on a mountain didn't change much from day to day?
Because Duncan learned that Will was not averse to sexual relations with men. They'd eaten dinner together - again of course, but cooked by Duncan this time since it was only fair in his mind to repay Will's generosity - and then Will followed him outside where Duncan smoked a cigarette and Will quietly leaned on the banister beside him, just enjoying the silence of the mountains and the brightness of the stars overhead.
The serenity had been appealing and a covert glance at Will had shown him to be completely relaxed, his cheeks and nose a fetching shade of pink thanks to the bite of the cold. Duncan wasn't often in the company of men who wanted sex with him and he tended to lean a bit more toward women, but Will was a very attractive man and Duncan liked him as a person first, which had never happened in any other sexual adventure he'd been on.
Will, as if sensing his gaze, turned to look at him, and that was when he'd been hooked. It took very little effort for Duncan to initiate a kiss, tossing his half-finished cigarette into one of the nearby snow piles in the process. Will came to him naturally and with only the slightest of hesitation of one unfamiliar with those kinds of interactions.
What started off as simple and inquisitive, turned to burning need almost too quickly. He had crowded Will against the wooden banister of the veranda, and had the younger man breathing heavily by the time they parted, his blue eyes dilated with his arousal. With the lines of their bodies pressed firmly together, he felt every little thing, including the sudden warmth spreading through Will's frame and the hardness pressed against his own. It took very little to get Will sexually excited, and that was a bit of information he'd save for later.
Wordlessly, he inclined his head toward the door, and Will nodded, taking his hand immediately.
What had followed was a few mumbled words about being clean, condoms being in a specific drawer, and the question of how Will would prefer it to happen the first time. Duncan could be considerate, especially if he really liked his partner in question. And he also had a small epiphany that this was what he'd wanted back in Belarus, which was why the sex with that woman had been so mediocre.
"It's been a while since I've done it like this," Will admitted as he lay on the bed, his clothes being steady stripped off by Duncan who took his time in appreciating everything while he had the opportunity to do so, mapping out the growing expanse of skin with his mouth. "Be careful for the first time and use the lube generously."
There were bullet wounds on Will's skin. A few minor scars here and there. And then one large, still pinkened scar that ran across his lower abdomen like an obscene and mocking smiley face. Recently created if it still looked so fresh. Recently healed all the way through. Will shivered when Duncan's mustache brushed against it, and ran a hand through Duncan's messy hair to move it out of his face so he could watch.
Someone had tried to disembowel Will. And he lived through it. The very thought of that made him all the more aroused, and the rest of their clothing was torn off quickly, his patience dissipating and being replaced by desire.
What followed was a very intense few sessions. Duncan topped twice from the start, but the second time had been a challenge to the normal idea of topping.
Will had pinned him to the bed and slowly rode him for almost too long to be safe or sane. He controlled the pace and the movements, and held himself up by balancing his hands on Duncan's chest. It was hot and tight and he teased the older man relentlessly, expertly swiveling his hips one way, and the other without even a thought.
"I learned to belly dance in my youth," was Will's only comment as he squeezed his muscles devilishly, earning a long groan from Duncan who tried to keep his hands at his sides like Will wanted him to. To 'test his self-control' or some shit. And certainly he was being tested. He wanted to grab Will and pull him down onto his cock mercilessly. To hear him scream from the force of it and watch as he came all over himself.
Instead it wasn't Duncan who came, and Will wasted no time in flipping him over and officially topping, which had been an experience in and of itself. Duncan wasn't often on the receiving end, but Will had promised that he knew what he was doing and then thoroughly demonstrated with his tongue that he in fact, was very talented in bed, even if men weren't his usual choice of partners.
Testing the limits of the human body had never been a goal during any of Duncan's other sexual excursions, usually he just wanted to get off, but Will was sensual, daring, and gladly convinced him to give it a go. Will had held off his own orgasm because he wanted to get his partner off first, and that kind of restraint was impressive.
Duncan had never known what rimming was like personally, and now he could honestly say it was one of his favorite things. Will's tongue was talented and explored places no one else had dared to go before. And when the tongue-fucking had ended, Will pinned him down again and forced him to come first before even allowing himself to get off finally.
And after a small nap in which both recovered somewhat from what could be considered a massive workout, they lay together, not exactly fucking, but not remaining stationary either.
There was groping and caressing, and the suggestive sounds of pleasure from both sides. Will seemed very determined to find all of Duncan's scars for himself, marveling over every little thing he noticed, murmuring about how impressive it had been that Duncan survived so much trauma in his life. A murmur over what he must look like in the middle of a job, and how 'hot' that vision was to Will. He found the idea of Will watching him as he killed people, very appealing, and it very nearly got a reaction out of him. His body was too tired and sore to respond fully though, but that was okay. He could ponder it later and use it as fuel at some other point.
It was some time around midnight, that the pleasant atmosphere of sex, seduction, and comfort, shifted noticeably to the both of them. They both tensed in the bed and he could feel Will shiver suddenly. And this feeling wasn't brought on by each other, which was what stopped him from going for Will's throat. Will looked equally concerned.
Without even a care for his nakedness, Will slipped off the bed and retrieved a double-barrel shotgun from under the floorboards on his side. He quickly loaded a couple bullets with efficient movements and the gun closed with a loud click a second later. "I have a loaded handgun in the bedside drawer on your side if you feel like you need to use it."
Duncan took it immediately, feeling much better with the familiar weight of it in his hands. It seemed as if Will was just as ready as he was for anything unsavory to happen. The amount of guns and knives hidden around his own cabin would make some people think him a little paranoid. But it was for a good reason.
Will rolled under the bed and out of sight. And now Duncan finally understood what the sheer, maroon bed-skirt was for. "Turn the light off and pretend you're sleeping. Keep the gun on hand no matter what."
Rarely did he take orders in situations like these, but he was curious and liked the idea of Will being on control. It was almost like a stakeout. Just waiting for the target to appear to get things going. And it was arousing as hell to think of Will doing something Duncan spent most of his life doing.
He arranged himself nimbly on the bed with only the sheet slightly pulled over his hip but nowhere else so it couldn't obstruct his movements in any way.
The dogs began barking madly, alerting them both to the fact that they hadn't imagined the tension in the atmosphere. Having so many dogs seemed like a great idea now. They were like a natural alarm. Adding another to Will's growing horde had been smart.
"Fuck!" an unfamiliar voice hissed from somewhere outside the house. "You didn't say he had dogs!"
"I didn't know!" a voice answered.
Both were men and sounded Italian. Their accents were thick. As there was no reason for two such men to be this far out in Washington, Duncan could easily guess the reason for them to be here. And with how smart Will was, he probably realized it as well.
Will kept the dogs blockaded in the lounge before going to sleep. There was a divider between the lounge and the rest of the rooms. Most of the dogs were too old to simply jump the dividers, and the rest were too short. They wouldn't be able to interfere even if they wanted to defend their master.
The two men entered through the unlocked front door, the dogs still barking. When one rounded the corner, he swore. There was only a single handgun on him. No protective gear. No other obvious weapons that could be hidden on his body. He was unprepared for this venture and it showed terribly. Duncan almost tsked in disappointment.
"We got the wrong house. Graham must be in the other one."
BANG!
The man crumpled like a sack of potatoes and his friend swore in Italian, repeating the same three words over and over as he scrambled to find somewhere to hide.
Will rolled out from under the bed and handed the shotgun to Duncan. He then stealthily slipped out the open window of his bedroom, the incessant barking of his dogs masking any sounds he made and he rounded the edge of the veranda and slipped out of sight.
Duncan listened closely, his muscles tensed for a fight if he needed to get involved. He was also thinking that perhaps he'd have to reevaluate his claim of Will not being good enough to be an assassin. He sure knew how to handle himself well in an unexpected, deadly situation. He made next to no noise, too stock of the situation quickly, and devised a plan that seemed to be working in his favor almost effortlessly.
"What the-"
There were the sounds of a scuffle. Grunting and something being slammed against the wall. Will and the stranger tumbled into view, rolling until Will was on top with his hands expertly closed around the man's throat, the handgun he'd brought as a defense, skittering across the wooden floor uselessly as he tried to remove Will's solid hold
In no time, the man was motionless and Will was back in the bedroom, grabbing his trousers from the floor. "He's not dead."
Duncan's head tilted just slightly. "Why?" What was the point?
Will grinned almost sadistically, putting several things into perspective for Duncan in that moment. "Because we only needed one of them alive. I knew buying all-purpose rope was a smart idea at the time I got it."
And that was when the interrogation truly began.
Will tied their prisoner to one of the wooden chairs of his kitchen. Rope and zip ties, so even if he got out of one, he'd still be trapped with the other. Will wasn't taking any chances and he wanted his damn answers. A perfectly good night ruined and he wanted to know the details of why.
A bucket of snowy water was dumped over the man's head, and then Will struck him across the face with a fly swatter which made a loud noise upon contact with the wet skin. He jerked awake from the pain and looked around in confusion. When he looked up to find both Will and Duncan staring him down from above, he paled.
"So… who sent you to kill me?" Will asked nonchalantly. He wasn't exactly offended that someone tried killing him, he was more offended at the poor timing of it. His first time having sex in the past seven or eight months, and this asshole had to come along and ruin it. Getting back in the mood was going to be hell, especially since he would have to clean the other man's fucking blood off his damn rug before it started to smell!
Their prisoner spit at Will's feet and said something in Italian that was no doubt offensive.
Duncan cleared his throat and said something clipped in return. Of course he would know Italian. He was an assassin and had probably been all over the world before. He would need to know a lot of languages. And now Will was curious to know how many. But that would have to wait for later.
Will took in the man's clothing. Of fine quality. His accent was thick and familiar. It took very little effort for him to put the pieces he'd gotten, together. From the make of the gun he'd been using, to his clothing and his accent. "What did Mason promise you in return for me?"
The man froze, looking baffled at Will's easy deduction.
"Because your words upon entering the cabin proved you were here for me alone. You brought a very big truck with you to transport me safely, so he wants me alive for something. Uninjured if at all possible, which is why you only had two guns with you and only you two came, which was stupid. You should always attack a larger predator in larger numbers." That was how Mason got Hannibal all tied up the last time he made a move. His men converged on Hannibal as a group and Hannibal still managed to brutally injure most of them and kill like two before he went down.
"We were hired in a larger group, but broke apart because it would be faster," the man hissed, his teeth clenched hard as he tried to pull his hands from his binds. He only succeeded in harming his own shoulders in the process, not that Will cared.
A group had been hired to get to Will. But not only only Will since only two of them came to get him. The others, however many there were, had gone after the other person.
And Will knew immediately who that person was. Because who else had assisted in the degradation of Mason Verger? Who was the one that orchestrated the entire event to begin with, and manipulated everyone involved from behind the scenes? Who was the one that had Mason mutilate his own face with a smile?
Will smirked, mind already whirling with dark images. "Hannibal is going to eat your friends alive. Pun intended."
A/N: Another is done!
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Chapter 4: Sharing
Summary:
There's a lot of talk of sharing in this chapter.
Notes:
-We get some more Hannibal!
-Will makes an important decision and has some feels.
-Duncan is the definition of acceptance.
Chapter Text
A/N: Hello, people!
I don't own Hannibal.
I have no beta.
ENJOY!
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By: baby_cinema.
"Ah! I see you have awakened! Just in time too."
Hannibal's guest was currently strapped to a dining room chair, and pushed up to the table so that he could partake of their evening repast together. Laid before him was a beautifully cooked piece of liver that had been seared on one side first, before being placed in the oven to fully cook through. He'd dressed the meat daringly as well, wanting to take a creative chance.
He leaned over the man's plate and began cutting the liver into decent portions so his guest wouldn't choke even by accident. "I do so love having guests for dinner. I think you'll find the meat to have a very interesting flavor. You friend was a bit prone to alcoholism and I could only do so much to mask the effects such poor habits had on the meat."
The Italian man blinked as he stared down at the plate that Hannibal had so generously made up for him. He was still in a daze, but that would fade eventually and then they'd be able to partake of their meal together.
Bedelia was seated on the other side of the table, refusing to even looking their general direction as she imbibed her wine far too quickly to be healthy. Then again, she'd taken to doing that a lot recently in an attempt to distract herself from Hannibal's actions and attitude shifts.
Spearing a piece of liver on the tines of a golden fork, Hannibal brought it up to the man's mouth and smiled charmingly. "Please, eat."
The fury building up in the man's face was amusing, turning it from its normal pale tone to a fiery red one. He always loved the dramatics of his victims. And it was nice to have something new to focus on now. To get his mind off his longing for better days and better company entirely.
"And while you eat, you can begin explaining to me exactly what your plans were for me, and who hired you. Yes? We mustn't be rude, good sir. It's an unbecoming habit to form, much like your comrade's alcoholism. He must have been an unpleasant man to deal with even on the best of days."
Hannibal took his own seat and lifted his glass in toast. "To our special guest! May you find sustenance in light of your friend's willingness to share. He did so generously provide the meat for this meal."
And the dessert as well.
"Wh-what do you mean?"
Duncan watched as Will blinked a few times, looking astonished as something clicked into place in his mind. Some piece of information beyond the other two men in the room.
"Do you mean to tell... me that you and your friends accepted a hit, but then didn't bother to learn anything about your marks?" And when he put it like that, Duncan could understand his horror. It was an irresponsible thing, and showed poor planning. It also showed that perhaps the persona behind this didn't know how to acquire talented men.
Will then laughed. Small and more like a few huffs instead of a belly laugh, but it counted as a laugh all the same. He looked darkly amused, and the sound was almost chilling yet also very arousing. "Hannibal despises the rude. Attempting to kill him will not be taken lightly. Your friends will not be returning to Mason Verger. At least not in the way they left. And they won't be dead immediately. No. Hannibal's more theatrical than that. He'll expertly remove the organs he wants from them, while they're alive because that's how he prefers to do it, and then he will cook them into elaborate meals and feed your friends each other. He then might make something special out of them all and then share the fruits of his labor with Mason so he can a get a taste of what happened to his men. Pun intended once again."
This Hannibal sounded… he didn't necessarily know how to put it. It didn't take much effort for him to understand that this Hannibal was the 'friend' Will had mentioned a few times before. And Will and Hannibal had done something to this Mason Verger that ended up with the man in question sending people after them to bring them back to his home where he would no doubt deliver punishment in his own way. Duncan found himself curious to know what had been done to this Verger fellow for him to be so intent upon torturing his enemies in person.
"And when we send you back to Mason, his reaction isn't going to be any better," Will continued after a minute of letting the man process his words. "Mason feeds anyone who doesn't do as he wants to the exact standard he wants it, to his specially bred, omnivorous pigs. So while you're escaping death on my end, Mason will have you eaten alive, much like your friends are under Hannibal's careful guidance and false platitudes."
Will looked more excited than he ever had ever since moving up to Washington. The face of a man doing what he loved and relishing it. Taking about cannibalism as if it was a matter on par with the daily weather report.
It wasn't a lie that Will liked murder. It was obvious in how he handled their attackers that he was thriving in this moment. He liked lording over the weakened man before them, but in a very muted way. He wasn't praising himself and glorifying his own genius. In fact, he was using his former friend's character and habits to strike fear into the heart of the Italian man. He then used the man's own employer's attitude as a fear tactic. Will wasn't threatening pain and death, because he knew he didn't have to in order to terrify the man.
This was all the proof he needed that perhaps Will truly was suited to the dangerous and dark lifestyle that Duncan lived. Will was no better a person than Duncan, even after being a cop and an FBI Special Agent. Even after helping people learn how to capture serial killers for years, Will was just as fucked up on the inside and just as morally grey.
It was like he'd found his other half. One part of a whole. Both trying to be good people, and both failing utterly every single day.
Hannibal flicked through the file he'd found in his guest's jacket, full of limited information on him, and shook his head. The fact that they truly believed they alone could take him down, was as laughable as it was offensive. Hannibal wasn't an easy target and it was a shame they hadn't realized that sooner. They might have actually succeeded in capturing him if they'd planned this little venture out better.
His eyes alighted upon a contract signed by Mason Verger. A contract that lacked significant details, but still told him what he wanted to know.
These two men had been contracted to kill him, and Will. But there were in fact four men in total and if only two came to Hannibal, then the other two went to Will. And on the page were two addresses. The one Hannibal was using while pretending to be Dr. Roman Fell in Florence, and the other was a location in Washington State that was supposedly Will's new address.
There was a lack of further information after that. No notes on how to handle either of them. No information beyond a photo of each so they'd know who to look for. For an under-the-table job, it was a poorly executed one.
Still, because of this contract, he now had Will's address on hand. And the knowledge that his own had been found somehow.
It was December. He hadn't seen Will in nearly nine months. The perfect amount of time to heal up and then follow his longing heart across the Atlantic. And what did he do instead? He moved even further away from Hannibal's reach. And Hannibal did not like that one bit. He'd been expecting Will to appear at some point, like a dog trying to catch an old scent once again, and then their correspondence would begin anew.
But he hadn't done as Hannibal had expected. Perhaps he needed to stop assuming that Will would become predictable after a certain period of time. The entire time they'd known one another, he'd always been difficult to predict and control. And here he was, once again, doing what Hannibal would never expect of him.
Will craved danger and drama even when he tried to pretend he didn't. Even when he claimed he wanted that dreaded normalcy that others easily fell into in their lives. Will was meant for Hannibal's way of life and him constantly avoiding it was becoming a hassle.
Mason needed to be dealt with post haste, but Hannibal wanted Will on his side when he did it. So seeing to Will first and then Mason second, was the best way to go.
And Bedelia… had outlived her usefulness. And if Mason tried to send more people to Italy, he'd be sorely disappointed to learn that Hannibal was gone and that there would be no more trails to follow. It would all end with Bedelia.
Yes, it was time for a reunion between good friends. He wanted to know how Will was doing. He wanted to see how well Will healed from Hannibal's… punishment. Sometimes he could still feel the knife in his hand and the warmth of Will's blood spilling onto his skin. Sometimes he could still feel Will in his arms, gasping in pain. Sometimes it made him feel ill with guilt. Sometimes it made him aroused.
The only correlating part in both scenarios was that it was Will. He'd never felt guilty or aroused over stabbing anyone else. Only Will could draw these feelings from Hannibal. It made sense that only his equal could manage that. The turns of the universe had gifted him Will Graham for a good reason.
"Do you not think he might come back and try again?" Duncan murmured into the column of Will's throat while they watched the Italian drive away, his dead partner in the passenger seat of their truck.
Will hummed as Duncan's hands massaged his hip bones sweetly. "He won't be coming back by himself or with anyone else. I'm good at reading people and he's not even going back to Mason. We won't be seeing him again." Not if he valued his life as much as he seemed to. The shaking and tears had been a good indicator at least.
"Shall we pick up where we left off?" Duncan suggested, a hand trailing down Will's arm to take hold of his own hand. He was warm.
That was indeed a nice thought, but… "I think I need some time to myself," he admitted lowly. "Thinking of Hannibal so much so quickly has made me realize some things. I still care about him very much. Still kind of wish I had run away to Italy with him as we had planned. Even though I'm pissed at him I still want him, which is very unfair to you. I like you too. And you haven't hurt me before, haven't gotten me incarcerated for your murders, and haven't let me stew in an illness because you were curious about what I would do while hallucinating. And yet I can't just ignore him."
Will pulled away, frowning as he thought about Hannibal. If he superimposed a photo of Hannibal over a photo of Duncan, they would look like identical twins. It was uncanny.
"Am I pushing my interest in Hannibal onto you just because you look like him and are here when he isn't? That's a pretty terrible thing to do to either of you. Using one to fill the void of the other. I don't want to be that kind of person who would use you and then throw you away, I respect you too much to do that." Will hated people who did things like that. Happened to him once upon a time, back when he was more naive and less understanding of human nature.
Duncan hummed. "It sounds like you want the both of us."
Yeah. It did. And he didn't even know Duncan as long as he'd known Hannibal. And yet Hannibal was gone and the chances of Will seeing him again were low.
Though if he did somehow meet Hannibal once more, Will would take it as a sign that he wasn't meant to avoid Hannibal at all. If somehow they fell into one another's orbit once again, it would be too obvious that they were meant to be together, even if it lead to a fight to the death and dying together in each other's arms.
"Polyamory exists," said Duncan quietly, pulling Will out of his depressing thoughts and making his jaw drop.
"Are you serious?" Will asked, baffled that someone as possessive as Duncan would suggest such a thing.
The assassin shrugged a shoulder. "I want you and you still want a part of him. I doubt he doesn't want you back, he'd be foolish not to. And you want me as well. It's a triangle and I've met many people participating in polyamorous and polygamous relationships. It's doable."
Well that was one way to solve his issue. "Hannibal is as possessive and obsessive as you are. Do you really think I'd be able to make him agree to something like this?" Hannibal literally got him released from prison because he wanted Will's attention again, without having to get it while in front of others and having to tame his questions and responses. He didn't seem the type who could handle sharing Will romantically.
"If he really wants you, but also wants your happiness, he'll have to give a little to get an inch," said Duncan. He then looked down suggestively and smirked. "Or seven inches if we're being specific."
The unexpected vulgarity of the joke hit him at once and had Will laughing. Duncan was so much better at puns than Hannibal was, that was for certain. Hannibal would not like the competition in that particular area.
"If he ever comes back into my life, then I suppose you'll have to share," Will told his lover, running a finger down the side of his face. "Until then, it's just us. I care for Hannibal, but I'm not traversing the ocean to find him. I already did the seducing and the changing; now it's his turn. He'll have to come to me to prove he really can't get me out of his head. I've changed him enough in return. It's time to see what those changes have wrought."
And if Hannibal really did find him again, then Will wouldn't push him away unless Will's death was his end goal.
"I got more board games because chess is going to become old after a while and why not spice things up just a tad?"
Duncan stared sown at the large pile of boxes that Will had placed on top of his table. Checkers, Parcheesi, playing cards, Phase 10, Go, Backgammon, Cribbage, Scrabble, Monopoly, Shogi, and Battleship. "I feel like you just want to see a hardened criminal playing children's games."
Will scoffed. "I happen to like all of these games and if we take some of my past actions into account, you could say I'm a hardened criminal too." There was nothing wrong with enjoying a good game now and then. "And yes, I think it would be hilarious to see you playing Phase 10." He wouldn't have dared approach Hannibal with a board game, but Duncan was far more approachable and less snooty. And he wasn't looking down his nose at them either. "Also, neither Go or Shogi could be considered children's games."
That got him a nod of agreement. "Which first?"
The world's top assassin agreeing to playing board games with his lover. Two killers over the age of forty playing board games did sound ridiculous to the ear. Will knew a lot of people who would take issue with the decision and claim something about 'acting their age' but life was already full of bullshit and unhappiness from every other angle. Why should they not do something fun just because some stuffy old man in a suit in some old building deemed it childish?
Where else would they find simple joy? It wasn't like adults playing board games was hurting anyone. They could be out there murdering people to pass the time.
"Let's do Scrabble. I have a word I want to use against you."
Duncan sighed. "I'll get the water. Try not to get too excited."
"No promises. I wish I had a camera."
"God, that woman talks a lot," Will said as they left the small shop in Triple Oak. Duncan had insisted on taking him and having him sample the cobbler at the diner, because he'd been craving it and wanted to share the experience with Will.
Duncan cracked a small smile at his grumpy behavior. The woman in the shop never stopped talking. How she managed to get her brain to keep up with her mouth was a mystery. It should be considered a skill. And she was never put off by how unsociable Duncan was. She just kept going on and on even when he left and other people came in.
"Is that all we needed?" Will asked after a moment, looking down at the bags in their hands. There were a considerable amount of them already. To get more wouldn't be a good plan.
"Yes."
"Thank God! I miss the dogs. They don't talk your ear off, they just ask for cuddles and treats."
The bags went into the flatbed. Will had insisted that they get enough meat so he could make his dogs some more homemade food. The fact that Will actually took the time to make their food and treats homemade because he didn't trust the kind you could get in the store, proved that he was a good pet owner. Those dogs were spoiled and would never understand to what extent. Will might not be an angel in terms of purity and goodness, but he was pretty decent in his own right. Terrible people didn't take in and care for half a doze strays.
The snow was coming down a lot harder now than it had in the past few weeks. It obstructed their view as they drove back and he had to be especially careful while driving so as not to spin out or crash into anything. Luckily for them, the road they had to use to get all the way out to their cabins was always empty since no one had a reason to drive all the way across Idaho's northernmost point just to get up to their area. In an oncoming snowstorm, it was a blessing that the road was basically empty.
At least it was until they rounded the bend and found a young woman stranded on the side of the road, leaning over the popped hood of her frighteningly blue car. The shade of blue stood out against the white on the ground and the grey in the sky. He didn't like the color all too much. It was too cheerful for his tastes. Duncan preferred more rustic shades.
"Pull over for a second and I'll see if I can fix what's wrong," Will told him.
While morally grey, Will was still pretty decent at heart. Didn't wish harm on complete strangers and did at least treat everyone with common decency even if it was done awkwardly.
Duncan pulled over and got out with him because he was protective and didn't necessarily trust perfect strangers enough to allow Will to get near her alone. He had a concealed weapon on himself just in case, as did Will. Paranoia was useful half of the time. His profession had taught him that very well.
Will spoke in low tones with the woman and then bent over the car. The woman stepped back and allowed him to look at what was wrong, an appreciative look on her face as she stared blatantly at Will's ass. As Duncan liked doing it too, it wasn't a something to be offended by. Will had a nice ass that looked good in his trousers, and anyone smart would agree.
Will looked back at him. "Do you have an tools?"
"Yes."
A red toolbox in the flatbed just in case. He retrieved it and tried to ignore the blatantly aroused look on Will's face when he caught sight of how large it was, and how prepared Duncan kept it at all times. Will was aroused by the strangest of things sometimes, and yet that worked in Duncan's favor very well.
The woman's car ended up fixed within ten minutes and she was on her way.
"That was very impressive," Duncan murmured into Will's ear as they headed back to his truck.
"I'm a talented man, what can I say?"
"Care to demonstrate that some more at home?"
Will smirked.
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Chapter 5: Skills
Summary:
Being skilled is important.
Notes:
-Drama. Death. Danger. Duncan.
-Hannibal!
Chapter Text
A/N: Hello, people!
I don't own Hannibal.
I have no beta.
ENJOY!
CHECK ME OUT ON TUMBLR. HELLY-WATERMELONSMELLINFELLON.
By: baby_cinema.
"God! Why does this old fuck have to live so damn far away from the damn bank! We weren't ready for this!"
Sindy shrugged as she flipped through her phone, catching up on some Hollywood drama like always. "Paranoia maybe? He lives out here somewhere with that hot guy. Called him Will. Just keep a look out for the truck. It's big, ugly, and not easy to hide."
There was a collection of groans from all around. All around them was just snow and trees as far as the eye could see. They were following the tire tracks still somewhat visible in the snow, and eventually, with how it was coming down, they'd be shit outta luck and have to wing it.
"It's so fucking cold up here! It hasn't stopped fucking snowing since we crossed the fucking state lines!"
"Must be nice in the summer though," Sindy said, getting a look at all the hills and trees. "Very campfire worthy. Get some marshmallows goin' on a nice fire."
Alexei rolled his eyes as he polished his guns. "We don't vacation where we take a mark out, Sindy. You know this."
She pouted. "Like anyone would find him all the way out here and connect it to us. And what about that hot piece of ass with him? What we doin' with him? Can I have him? He's hot and nice. Fixed up my car and gave me a good view while doing it, even if it ruined Plan A."
Alexei grinned. "You'll see."
"Alfonso has just canceled the contract to bring me Hannibal Lecter and Will Graham. It seems his encounter with Will Graham and his friend did not go well. And at the same time, Hannibal Lecter sent me Alfonso's older brothers in a cake. Apparently blood is a good replacement for eggs when it comes to baking."
Alana winced at the very thought. She'd helped him find Hannibal, but she hadn't known he was going to go after Will too. He never even mentioned Will. How did he even find out where Will went? It wasn't exactly public knowledge.
Mason rolled his eyes at her and said condescendingly, "You should learn that I have every room in this mansion bugged, Dr. Bloom. Telling my sister anything in here, means you're telling me."
Oh no. She'd been the one to tell Margot about where Will had went. She'd been assuring her that Will was fine and happy where he was. That Washington would be good to Will without out of Jack's hands. And she'd basically sent Will to his death by doing that.
But… if he was still alive and the hitman had failed, then he was still okay and she didn't have to feel guilty anything, right?
But would Mason truly leave either he or Hannibal alone after failing to get them for what was apparently the second time? Was he the kind of man to accept defeat and just go about his business as usual?
No. He would continue to both the both of them until something came to a head.
She didn't want to be around for that.
"Fish, burgers, steak. What do you want?"
"Mushroom risotto," was Duncan's calm reply.
Will winced. "Yeah, I'm not that good of a cook." Risotto was a bitch to make. Even Will knew that. He'd never succeeded when trying before and he wasn't going to waste ingredients by trying now.
"I am," the assassin insisted as he passed Will on his way to Will's pantry.
"Well then. Delight me with your wondrous skills, Mr. Assassin."
Lo' and behold, an hour later they were sitting down for dinner, with mushroom risotto and tea. And yes, his risotto was enough to match Hannibal's.
Very impressive.
"I suppose your success has earned you a prize. What do you want?" Obviously Will was thinking along the lines of sexual gratification since sex with Duncan was fun and the man knew what he was doing and was glad to teach Will all kinds of new things.
Instead, Duncan asked very politely, and almost adorably if that could be said about an awkward, hardened assassin of nearly fifty years, "Could I get a shoulder massage?"
Will's gaze softened. "Sure." The man was covered in scars from years of hard work. He had minor shoulder issues and during the poor weather, the pain was bit worse. Kind of like Will after getting shot each time.
And if Duncan wanted a simple massage that he couldn't actually do himself because he couldn't reach himself and didn't trust a doctor, then Will would oblige. And then suck him off afterward simply because he liked doing it and he especially liked watching Duncan's face while it was happening. The way he threw his head back as Will took his all the way down was forever seared in his memory.
If this was what relationships were like, he'd been sorely missing out for years.
Or perhaps he hadn't found the right person.
Will grunted and rolled over. "What's wrong?"
Duncan paused in pulling on his shoes. "I'm going to get my coffee. I don't want to have to go and get it in the morning with all the snow in the way."
He received a grunt of acknowledgement in return as Will snuggled back into his sheets. And that was good. Perhaps that would give him time to see to… other matters, before Will even woke up again. The less Will had to be involved, the better for all already involved.
Back inside his own cabin, he made certain to stay in the open. From the windows, he could spot several points where a sniper would take refuge. The cleanest shot would of course be through the bedroom window. A lack of trees in the way between the hill to the cabin made for a clear line of fire.
While Will had been completely unaware of anything nefarious going on around them, Duncan had been trained in this business for decades. He'd taken note of every little detail of the young woman earlier that day. Her license plate was fake, though not many would notice the particulars. Her accent, while well done for her age, was also fake. And he'd picked up on her disappointment in the fact that Will had fixed her car up easily enough. She'd been shocked to see Will at all.
Meaning she had been after Duncan and Will was an unexpected addition that messed whatever plan she'd had, up.
Vivian sends him a mission that was supposed to end with him getting killed by the target. And now he was meeting fledgling assassins near his own home? And yes, an hour away was still near his home in his mind.
What was Blut up to? And what was the Black Kaiser going to be forced to do to him in return once this was all over? He could already imagine himself brutally killing the man. The vision of spilling his filthy blood across his fanciful office was an appealing one. He'd always been a rather nasty one that no one in the company really liked. Worse than even his father, the little bastard.
Duncan knew they'd been followed. Anticipated it ever since that meeting out in the snow. Several hours had passed and that meant there was enough time to scope out the area and made a plan of attack.
First thing was to pretend to search for a change of clothes to bring over to Will's cabin. And if he spent too long at the closet, that was just because he was being too picky.
Distantly, very distantly through the snowstorm and the walls of their houses, he could hear Will's dogs barking. The enemy was closing in and riling them up in the process, alerting Will to possible danger. And hopefully he would be smart enough to stay in his own home and not leave. He was safer indoors will all of his hidden guns within reach, than outside in the middle of the storm.
A deep breath in anticipation, and then he whipped his gun out and shot the nearest window. A loud, feminine scream reached his ears, letting him know he'd guessed one his assailant's positions correctly. He didn't wait though, dropping to the floor to get out of the light and reducing the chances of shooting him in return.
With a flick of the wrist, he shot every light in the house out, leaving he and his attackers in total darkness.
As stated before, nighttime was the best time to launch an attack on someone.
But only if that person wasn't expecting it.
Duncan had trained for midnight hits and even blind ones. He wouldn't be so easily taken down in the midst of the chaos. The Black Kaiser was known as a terrifying figure for a reason. His skills were legendary.
The moment the dogs began barking was the moment Will woke. He felt cold and noted that Duncan should have been back by now. The dogs didn't bark like that for any old reason either.
He was fully awake in seconds, and reaching for his handgun immediately. Once more, Will hid under the bed because it hadn't failed him the last time and it wouldn't fail him this time either.
Whoever it was, they didn't expect him to have dogs. Kidnappers these days just didn't seem like they cared about learning about their victims before going about their tasks. It was disappointing. What kind of person attacks without a plan? Especially one who was a killer? Hannibal would be mortified by the lack of sense being displayed.
A man stepped into the house, a gun in each hand, pointed in different directions. He was at least more prepared than the last kidnapper had been.
Will slipped his handgun under the bed skirt, mentally patting himself on the back for making sure he could see through it, took aim for the head, and fired once. The man dropped, his blood spraying the floor and walls in the process. Thank God for sheer fabric. A tried and true formula. If Will ended up using it over and over, it was only because it kept working.
And now there was blood everywhere and he'd have to clean that all up soon. There wasn't enough bleach for this.
Duncan was still not back either.
Will gingerly slipped out of his hiding place, wondering if he should go and find the man.
The firing a weapon that wasn't his own, told him that might be necessary.
More gunshots followed as he slipped on some clothes, boots, and a coat. The dogs were agitated, but he didn't have time to calm them down. These hitmen at least seemed a bit smarter than those Mason sent. Unless Mason sent these ones too and he merely learned his lesson the first time. Will didn't know what to believe in regards to Mason's intelligence.
No. Only one came after Will, while the continuing gunshots sounded different. More than one person had come and the rest had converged on Duncan. And Duncan had gone over to his cabin alone for fucking coffee in the middle of the night? As he thought about it, the reasoning had been really stupid.
He'd been expecting this though? Did Will miss something that only the world's greatest assassins would pick up on?
Out in the snowstorm, he made his way over to Duncan's cabin, being as quiet as possible as he peered through the shattered window nearest him. The lights were off inside, but there were two lit flares. He saw a slim but darkly dressed figure run across the living room in a low crouch, and slide into the small nook between the fridge and the counter in the kitchen. She had a gun in hand and Will could practically feel her panic setting in as she watched the lights from the flares die down.
He took aim once more, and fired. She fell to the floor in a heap and then everything was eerily silent save for the snow and the wind. Even the dogs had stopped barking, which he took as a sign that the enemies were all taken care of.
It was several minutes before Duncan joined him inside, his face set in a deep frown of displeasure. In his hands was a very large gun. A sniper rifle to be specific, with a long scope.
"Are you okay?" Will asked. He looked fine but that didn't necessarily mean much in the grand scheme of things.
"What about you?" his companion responded.
"Some redhead broke into my house so I shot him. He got blood everywhere."
Duncan looked impressed and relieved all at once. "Good." He then held up what looked to be a room key for a hotel in Triple Oak. "I'm going to find the rest and take care of them. I'll return soon."
"Is going alone a smart idea?" Will had to ask, uneasy at the thought of separating after a group of people just tried to murder them.
Duncan placed his free hand on Will's head, his mustache twitching with his fond smile. "I'll be fine. I'll then take care of the bodies, so touch them as little as possible."
Getting back into the US was far easier than anticipated. It hadn't even been a year yet and the FBI was already lax. For shame, Jack. For shame. But it worked in Hannibal's favor, so he truly didn't mind the easy way being paved.
All he had to do was style his hair differently, wear contacts, and allow his facial hair to grow in a bit while applying a matching mustache. His newest identity was that of Dante Palermo. I required next to no skill at all to hide among the masses.
Will lived in Washington now, meaning Hannibal hadn't even needed to stop in Virginia. He'd just needed to catch a plane from New York to Seattle and go from there. It was all very straightforward.
He didn't necessarily know what he would do once he saw Will again, but he knew that he wanted to see good Will soon. Pretending to be happy in Florence had been dull. Having to do it with Bedelia, whom he hadn't even planned for in the beginning, made it even worse. He'd wanted to enjoy the city that made him a man, with Will, not anyone else.
How Hannibal ended up so enamored with Will Graham, he couldn't even begin to fathom. Finding Will's rudeness to be charming and amusing. Wanting to feed him all the time. Wanting to provide for him and be the one Will looked toward for guidance and entertainment. He wanted Will's reliance and trust.
He should not want Will. For all intents and purposes, Bedelia was outwardly more what Hannibal should want. Classy, educated, respectful, social, beautiful, manipulative, and she'd had her own high social standing in the world she'd created for herself. She was used to the life he lived. Whereas save for the beauty and education, Will was her polar opposite.
And yet Hannibal… was living the physical embodiment of nostalgie de la boue. He longed for the mud instead of what should obviously be his preference. Because unlike Bedelia, Will understood him and his motivations. Because unlike Bedelia who was too terrified to look, Will looked daringly, and challenged him to do better. Will thought he was fiercely and grotesquely beautiful.
What would happen when they saw each other once again? As he could no longer predict his dear Will, he didn't know what to expect in the near future.
"Are you sure this is a good idea?"
Duncan nodded as he slipped on more comfortable clothing meant for travel. Will was frowning at him from the doorway of the bedroom, looking concerned and unhappy with the flow of events.
"You think this is the only way?"
"Hm. I need to know why they're trying to kill me. I need to know if Blut is behind it or if some in the company are causing an uprising."
"Because you won't kill people who don't deserve it," Will concluded. "That's kind of sweet."
No one had ever said that in regards to his job before, but Will was looking at him like he'd done something spectacular.
"Well I can't tell you to not go, but I do hope you'll keep your wits about you and be careful. And come back."
Duncan smiled. Despite the drama and the fact that people kept trying to kill him, life was going very well lately. Retirement didn't seem like it would be all that terrible now. Not now that he knew more about Will and the drama of Will's own past still being alive and well.
Between the two of them, he doubted they'd get much free time.
"Imagine I'm with you if you get lonely. That brilliant mind of yours can do it I'm certain."
That earned him a fetching flush and a searing kiss. "Don't die, Duncan. I'd be very annoyed at the chance of missing out on that threesome you suggested."
His body warmed instantly at those words. Maybe they could get in a quick fuck before he left.
Will planned to see Duncan's windows fixed before he returned so at least there would be something blocking out the cold. Thankfully, Will knew how to fix windows himself and he didn't need to hire anyone to do the work for him. He just needed the glass at the particular dimensions required, and then could do the work himself. He had experience in repairing windows thanks to Hannibal sending a fucking killer in a bone suit after him.
In Bonners Ferry, he stopped by the local diner and grabbed some food to go, not feeling like cooking for himself that night. He also got a large order of bacon for the dogs to share, because he felt like spoiling them after all the drama and the loud noises from the shooting. Those poor dogs had been witness to a lot of shit in the last year. He felt bad for dragging them into everything in his life, but they still remained loyal throughout it all. Rusty was a new addition, but he'd been well-behaved too.
The snow began falling once again on his way back up the mountain. He grumbled at the thought of having to shovel the whole fucking hill again. And then he'd no doubt have to keep going out to do it because Duncan would no doubt be incapable of it when he got back. Will foresaw many injuries in his future and he'd be in too much pain to do it. So Will could be the nice person he really wasn't, and save the man the additional stress. Besides, they shared the road to begin with so it was only fair.
He was pulling up the hill that he noticed an unfamiliar, black car parked in front of his house. It was a Mustang judging by the stripe down the center and the shape of the rear. He didn't know the license plate number either. Duncan wouldn't drive something so useless to him because it lacked space. Duncan liked comfort but also room to move if he needed to. Room to duck for cover being the biggest requirement for him. That was why when going to town together, they used Duncan's vehicle instead of Will's. He was paranoid like that.
When Will got out of the car, his stomach dropped when his porch became visible. Standing at the balcony, hands in the pockets of his dark trench coat, was none other than Hannibal Lecter, looking hearty and healthy like never before.
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Chapter 6: Weakness
Summary:
And the old dogs meet up again.
Notes:
-More drama. Hannibal is a jealous brat. Will is done with his shit.
-Poor Duncan. But he'll make it! :(
Chapter Text
A/N: Hello, people!
I don't own Hannibal.
I have no beta.
ENJOY!
CHECK ME OUT ON TUMBLR. HELLY-WATERMELONSMELLINFELLON.
Will remained largely unchanged since the last time Hannibal had laid eyes on him, though he had reverted back to his more scruffy appearance. Curls more wild and clothes not up to the quality Hannibal would prefer them to be at.
He didn't look stressed. Well, not like he'd been missing sleep and meals. Upon seeing Hannibal's face, the stress piled on instantly, and he looked displeased. Hannibal could almost feel his distaste.
"Not you," the other man grumbled in frustration before looking up at the grey sky. "I can take the fucking hint, thanks!" Whatever he was venting at did not reply, and Will stomped around his car to grab whatever he'd been out fetching.
The door had been unlocked when Hannibal tried it, because he hadn't gone in, wanting to wait for Will to allow him entry personally. Many things he was willing to do, but this one breach of privacy was not among them. Will stared him down as he got to the front door and said, "You might as well come in. So long as you aren't here to kill me. That'd be rude, Hannibal."
He gave the man a calm smile and held the door open. Inside was much like his other home back in Wolf Trap. This one had only one floor, which was useful for Will since in Wolf Trap he'd only made use of the first floor of his house to begin with. The furniture had been brought over, including the piano, but everything else was new. Yet it all felt very much like a Will Graham house.
Will withdrew one of the styrofoam containers he'd brought inside, revealing a large clump of bacon. The dogs, which had been left in the lounge, were up immediately, bursting with excitement as the scent of bacon filled the air. There was a new dog in the mix.
"So why're you here?" Will asked after a moment of tossing strips of bacon to his dogs.
"I cannot simply check up on a friend?"
Will scoffed. "More like Mason's men were too obvious and you got curious. And bored."
That was true.
"And you missed me."
Also true, though he refused to admit such aloud. He still wasn't over what had happened back in his kitchen in Baltimore. While there had been time to grieve and heal, he hadn't really healed all that much. What happened between he and Will had been too much. The teacup had yet to come back together in a sense, and he worried it never would.
"Came to get that old scent again." So strange how alike they thought. Hannibal had a similar thought not even a month ago. Will was honestly like his other half at times and it nearly scared Hannibal witless.
"How are you, Will?" he decided to ask, wanting that topic of conversation to stop before it got any more revealing.
"Well," was Will's succinct answer.
Hannibal looked around, verifying that he indeed seemed to be living well. The kitchen was well-stocked. He moved toward it, curious to see what Will had available and hoping it was better than in Wolf Trap. When he stepped into the space of the kitchen however, he found himself assaulted by a scent that wasn't Will's.
An aftershave Will would never wear himself, filled the air. It got stronger around one of the chairs at the table. It covered the leather of the seat. Hannibal did slow a one-eighty and followed the scent around the house until he reached the bedroom.
Will lived alone, but he had a neighbor who wasn't home. Will had found himself a sexual partner at the very least.
Hannibal was not pleased by this turn of events, having not anticipated a lover, let alone one of the male persuasion, to be a part of his Will's life. He'd expected to find Will once again living alone and longing for Hannibal's company, but it seemed as if he hadn't been in need of anyone's company for quite some time.
"No need to get jealous," Will teased from the lounge. "He's been made aware of my still present obsession with you and vice versa. He doesn't mind either."
He found that difficult to believe since Hannibal had a difficult time handling the thought of sharing Will with anyone. That was why what Will said about him taking away anything Will bonded with that wasn't Hannibal, wasn't wrong per se. Not completely right of course, but not all that wrong either. Hannibal was possessive and finding the diamond in the rough named Will Graham had been the discovery of the century. Of course he would want to hoard Will all for himself.
"I'm actually really fine in this new life of mine. Between the normalcy of the mountains and the assassins coming after either of us, it's been a real treat to be here. I don't feel like moving again, so if you want me as much as you think you do, you're the one who's going to have to make some adjustments this time."
Will wasn't oblivious to his interest then. He had been before. Hadn't seemed to understand the exact weight of Hannibal's devotion. But now he did. And it was because he was in a romantic relationship of his own now. One in which his partner seemed very accepting and helped him to understand himself and his desires more easily.
"Does your partner truly know everything he needs to?" Hannibal asked, hoping to push Will's buttons a bit. Maybe to unnerve him? Maybe to fill his head with doubts?
His question didn't have the desired effect. Instead he got a mocking laugh. "Duncan wouldn't be threatened by you, Hannibal. He's an assassin who's been in his line of work for over thirty years. He didn't even blink when he found out about the cannibalism. And he makes better puns than you do."
Several things to note. Will telling someone about Hannibal. Will telling someone about Hannibal's hobbies in great detail. Will thinking this someone was more clever at puns than Hannibal. He was offended in three different ways.
"Now let's talk about Mason and what the hell we're going to do with him. I was thinking of going over and slitting his throat and being done with it. I'm sure you imagined something far more dramatic of course."
Seeing as the conversation was being steered elsewhere once again, Hannibal had no choice but to follow along. He had come to get Will's assistance in dealing with Mason after all. This wasn't just a social visit. They had work to do.
"Our dear Alana is in a relationship with Margot Verger. I was thinking of giving them a child before getting rid of Mason. A fitting end, don't you agree, good Will? Him dying, knowing that his sperm is being used to create a child his sister will rear as her own. A child to take over the family. A child that will give his mother temporary control until he is of age. All things Mason is deathly terrified of."
The considering look on Will's face was enough for him to know that a version of his plan was going to happen no matter what. Hitting Mason where he was weakest in terms of masculinity, was their best shot at present.
Hannibal was very good at spotting weaknesses. Will should remember that.
Two days. Two days away from Will and in capture. Two days where he'd been forced through some of the worst torture he'd ever been through. And when he was of sound enough mind to think clearly, he was impressed.
An old comrade, one far older than he, had managed to get him for Blut. And he'd fallen for it easily. He got his answers, and then he got captured. But at least knew what was going on and he knew why it was happening. Blut, like his father before him, was a greedy son of a bitch, who didn't want to pay his workers. That was the long and the short of it. Though in Duncan's opinion, he was even worse than his father.
Now he was just angry that Duncan - and Will by extension - had killed his talented, up and coming assassins, and he was taking it out on Duncan because he was right there. He also made some vague threats toward Duncan's, 'little boyfriend' which weren't appreciated. But made him laugh anyway.
Will was not little in any sense. He was also a lot more capable of protecting himself than Duncan had originally believed him to be. And if someone went after him, Duncan was reasonably certain he would be the one making it out alive in the end, and that was good enough for him. An injured but living Will was far more preferable to a dead Will.
He was biding his time. Waiting for the right moment. Their guard had to lower to the right level for him to be capable of tricking them and escaping. It was patience. It was meditation. It was forcing dissociation to avoid added pain and trauma.
He'd been through worse. He would live through this, he would kill all that stood in his way, and then he'd go back to Will and help Will focus on his own problems.
Duncan was very quick to spot routines and habits, and he'd already mentally noted every single weakness the soldiers under Blut's employment had.
Playing host to Hannibal was… not among Will's favorite things to do. He was so fucking picky and dramatic all the time and the jealousy over Will having a male lover who wasn't him, was pathetic. And also validating for Will's emotions that still longed for Hannibal's attention and affection. He missed how Hannibal used to stare at him, now that he knew what those looks meant.
The upside to having Hannibal around now, was the fact that he insisted upon cooking, and since Will had no human around, it would all be with his own ingredients. He had no idea what Duncan did with the bodies and didn't even ask him, he just let the man do his thing in the snow, and then gave him a blowjob when he came back.
And it wasn't as if Will honestly cared about cannibalism and all that it entailed. Of all the things he'd seen and done himself in his life, that just wasn't up there as the worst possible thing that could happen. There were people alive who still did it all over the world. It wasn't that obscure of a practice as polite society would have one believe.
Will was more offended by how manipulative Hannibal was, than by his peculiar choice of fare.
"What do you do when you're so secluded up here without a job, dear Will?"
He shrugged. "Write, talk to Duncan about anything, play board games with him, read. Usual things." Catching Hannibal's gaze, he smirked and added, "We fuck sometimes too."
"You are being crude, Will."
"Are you honestly so above saying the word 'fuck'? Seriously? I happen to have imagined you saying it and even enjoyed hearing you say it. A lot."
Many times. Hannibal's accent made certain words, especially those he didn't like, sound more appealing. Will felt the same way whenever Duncan deigned to swear. For Hannibal it would be out of character and that would make it an even more attractive thing. Being able to get Hannibal to sink to his level would be the best thing at present.
Hannibal's hold on his utensils tightened at Will's suggestive tone. Messing with Hannibal was always fun, especially when knew what buttons to properly push. Since he was apparently - most definitely - in love with Will to an alarming degree, Will had a lot of leeway on his side. Sexually frustrating Hannibal for being an asshole was the best pastime he'd had in a while if sex was excluded!
"Quite rude to start what you don't plan to finish."
"How would you know I don't plan to finish it?"
"Wouldn't your partner take issue?"
"My partner," Will began, sending up a prayer of thanks for Duncan's existence and accepting nature, "as you call him, suggested polyamory to solve the problem, Hannibal. He wants me, you want me, and I want the both of you. It'll work out for all of us that way. When we get over our issues with each other first."
Hannibal stared at him from across the table, looking baffled at the suggestion. "Why him though?" the cannibal eventually asked. He sounded petulant to an extent, and offended. Hannibal's jealousy was his greatest weakness.
Will looked down at the table, thoughts of the past month and how living next to Duncan had been, filling his head. The times they simply ate together. The chess games. Sitting out in the snow and just talking. The slow revelations of both of their lives and experiences. "Because he hasn't hurt me."
That got him a flinch from Hannibal, showing the man's own guilt was still eating at him even now. Will wasn't as pleased to see it as he expected he would be.
"And he doesn't think I'm a freak who needs to be fixed."
A purse of the lips.
"He listens when I speak and doesn't judge me over how my mind works."
A refusal to meet Will's gaze now.
"And despite his profession and the bad habits he's picked up from it, he's pretty gentle at heart and still decent to everyone around him. Doesn't lord over people or try to make himself appear all-knowing or imposing. He's not a pretentious asshole who's masculinity is threatened by the presence of anything not exactly 'manly'."
There were many reasons to like Duncan Vizla.
"Most of all, he was here to listen or help if I needed it." And that was enough. Being willing to listen without the intention to use what he learned against him, was probably one of the greatest things anyone had ever offered Will.
They finished their dinner in silence, Hannibal lost in thought and Will wishing Duncan could come back soon.
Hearing Will talk about his lover so fondly made Hannibal feel bitter. Perhaps if he'd played his cards a bit better, or realized that he fancied Will earlier on, then he wouldn't have to compete for Will's affections with some man he didn't even know. If he had understood what he'd wanted from the beginning, then none of this would be necessary. He and Will would already be together and off living their lives somewhere far nicer.
What ever happened to 'good things come to those who wait' and 'slow and steady wins the race'? Because as Hannibal could see everything, him taking his time lost his valuable opportunities.
"Stop feeling sorry for yourself," Will told him, practically inhaling the rest of his fish. "I still like you as a person even after everything we've been through together. Even after Abigail."
Their little teacup was shattered beyond repair. Sometimes she still haunted his dreams with hat passive smile of hers. Her eyes would remain free of judgment but Hannibal could still feel it burrow underneath his skin.
"You know, I hallucinated her once I woke up," said Will, tone nostalgic. "Six months in the hospital, four of them spent in a coma. Two of them thinking she was alive and visiting me every day once I finally woke up. It took me until the day I was released, to realized I had just made her up. That my memory palace was superimposed over my reality and I couldn't tell the difference until I left."
Will was quiet as he spoke, voice full of longing for what could never be now.
"She told me you missed us. That you made it easy for us to find you. Said that you were waiting and that things could go back to normal again. And I believed her and even planned to go to Italy just to find you. Was brushing upon on my Italian too. But that changed when I realized she was just a figment of my imagination trying to help me cope. That my imagination was trying to control my actions again. And so I did the exact opposite of what she told me, and here I am, actually happy."
Another sting lashed at Hannibal's heart. He hated when Will avoided him, and Will had literally gone against his own heart's wishes, just to avoid dealing with Hannibal.
No matter what, Hannibal wasn't the only person who suffered in their relationship. Betrayal aside, and all the implications that came with it of course, Will had been through even more than Hannibal had. More injuries. More pain. More mental instability. All because of Hannibal too. When put into perspective, it made sense that Will would avoid him, knowing how detrimental it seemed to be, to be friends or more with someone such as Hannibal Lecter.
Hannibal had equally pulled him close and pushed him away.
He didn't want to hurt Will. He cared far too much about the other man's well being to wish harm upon him. But he wanted to see Will thriving and living carefree. Doing something that they both enjoyed without guilt.
And it seemed like he had finally attained that mental wellness he always needed, and Hannibal hadn't been a part of it at all.
His bitterness couldn't be stronger. It felt like he was being choked by it. Two freezing, almost insubstantial hands wrapping around his throat and applying more and more unwanted pressure as the minutes passed. Holding him down. Refusing to let him up.
"The living room has a pull-out couch. You can use it for now," said Will as he got up to start washing the dishes, effectively ending their conversation.
How were they going to get past this barrier between them? How would the bridge of their relationship be rebuilt? Could their old feelings be rekindled once again?
From the way Will talked, it sounded as if it could. But Hannibal didn't know what to do to make that happen.
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Chapter 7: Complications
Summary:
Each of the boys is experiencing their own complications.
Notes:
-Duncan is a badass and making Hannibal doctor him up is evil of me but I'm doing it!
Chapter Text
A/N: Hello, people!
I don't own Hannibal.
I have no beta.
ENJOY!
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By: baby_cinema.
Will watched as the teacup fell. It was almost in slow motion to his mind. He even managed to count dozens of pieces of porcelain as it shattered upon contact with the wooden floor of his cabin. He then stared for several minutes, annoyed that the pieces didn't pull themselves back together.
"Adopting habits of mine?" Hannibal asked from the doorway, the crash most likely waking him up, not that Will cared. The man had been sleeping for eight hours already, he didn't need any more rest. Hannibal wasn't one to sleep long for anything so the fact that he's still been in bed by ten was something else.
"Some of the better ones at least."
"I don't have any bad habits."
The air escaped through Will's nose instead of through his mouth, but he'd still count it as a laugh all the same. "Obsessive lying, manipulation, a well-hidden domineering attitude, greed, gluttony, need I list any more?"
"I noticed how murder and cannibalism weren't on that list."
Will shrugged. Things had changed in his mind. Compounded by Hannibal's interference too. "By now I consider those the least offensive things you've ever done. To me or anyone else for that matter. I've been a victim of all the others to some extent, and the results weren't pleasant, which is why I don't look too favorably upon them."
"And yet I tried to kill you and fed you other people."
Will cut him a dark, unamused look. "You didn't try to kill me and we both know it. You love me much more than either of us anticipated, and even when punishing me you couldn't see it through to the end. You knew I would live and you were hoping I would come to you so our dance could begin anew."
Hannibal looked distinctly uncomfortable with all of his feelings being laid bare in Will's kitchen. Hannibal wasn't the best at confronting his feelings. That was one thing Will had come to understand about him. All the more reason to reveal them and prod at them constantly. The men exposed Hannibal was, the less likely he was to lie.
"Where is your partner?" Hannibal asked during dinner that evening. He'd seen neither hide or hair of the man, and not even a photo of him around. Though Will wasn't the type to keep photos for anything.
"Probably on a mission to kill his former boss," was Will's blasé answer as he ladled a spoonful of rice onto his plate. "He got set up on a job and still managed to kill his targets. And then assassins working for the same company hit us a few days ago and he decided to go and get some answers. He said he'd be back in less than a week. It's been three days, so I'm not going to worry just yet."
"And where would these assassins be now?"
Will shrugged, apparently unaware of the details. "Duncan said he'd handle the bodies. Since he's been at this for so long I decided to let him at it. He got three and I got two. I had to get rid of one of my rugs because the blood wouldn't come out no matter what I used on the stains," Will explained, looking put out. "He wouldn't tell me where he was going just in case someone else came here and actually got me. Something about as little information as possible being necessary and instead of torture, they'd just go for a killshot and be done with it, which in Duncan's mind is a mercy."
Hearing Will talk about murder so brazenly made Hannibal's heart leap. This was what he'd wanted ever since he'd let Will out of the BSHCI. Instead, all he'd gotten was half-truths and dramatics. And now here Will was, come into his own, and it hadn't been for Hannibal.
But then his easy acceptance of his assassin lover's actions also made Hannibal very bitter.
"Hn…" Will groaned, looking out the window. "The snow's coming down again and I need to shovel before bed so there isn't twice the amount in the morning. Made that mistake last week and hated every moment of the hour it took me to get rid of it all."
And wasn't this to perfect opportunity for Hannibal to get back into Will's good graces by helping him shovel snow?
It had been a long time since Hannibal had done it, but for Will he would.
"Have you another shovel?"
Duck, side-step, parry, etc…
Blut's men kept on coming, and Duncan kept on fighting. Snapping a neck here, shooting someone in the face there, and limping forward as more foes crossed his path.
He wasn't the kind to talk on a job. Even if this was technically an escape and not a job, he was in the familiar mindset he often adopted when on the job. It helped him focus on what was going on around him, and allowed him to distance himself from the pain he was feeling.
Another duo with guns was in his way.
He always found is amusing that a lone man, especially at his age against such young faces, managed to walk right into the line of fire and not only obtain no injuries, but also kill his foes without a struggle. Being able to do it came from decades of building up such an attitude. Sure it was reckless, but someone not fully confident in their skills wouldn't dare do it to begin with.
Swearing in various languages that he understood perfectly, came from all around him. Blut hired people from all over the world. So long as they possessed some skill with a firearm, were willing to kill and put themselves on the line during each job, and they were punctual, he had no problem with hiring them.
They didn't even have to understand English, they just had to be decent.
Of course they would best be marked as canon fodder. Single soldiers called upon in times of crisis to provide numbers, not substance. They weren't a team like the group that had come after him back in Washington. If they'd been against anyone but Duncan, they would have succeeded, but he wasn't called the best for no reason.
The Black Kaiser was too much for anyone to handle, and he knew it.
These singles were nothing on that group. Only by taking out dozens would he have achieved the equivalent of doing in that little rag-tag team.
Snap. Break. Shoot.
He'd been through nineteen guns already, using bullets sparingly of course, but there were a lot of foot soldiers to mow through. And the hallway seemed like it was never-ending as more and more men kept popping out to surprise him, and getting quickly killed as a result. If they just let him by, he wouldn't have to kill them.
Simple logic that escaped them all. He didn't murder carelessly after all. If someone got in his way, they died. But if they stayed out of the way, like the hotel manager had back in Belarus, then Duncan would leave them to their own devices. No point in wasting ammunition on those who weren't a threat to the mission.
Something burning hot ripped through his leg and he lost his footing, which had already been rather poor to begin with after being tortured for nearly four days. One managed to get a shot in. Impressive, he had to admit.
His attacker was quickly expunged.
He had to get out. He had to kill Blut. He had to return to Will. He'd promised he would.
Thankfully the promise never demanded he come back in one piece.
Will stared out at the falling snow, lost in thought. And wonder of wonders, his thoughts were about Hannibal Lecter. If the man had known, he would no doubt be all smug about it. Therefore, Will elected not to tell him anything just to be spiteful.
It was nice seeing Hannibal again, despite how annoyed he also was. He wanted back that old, friendliness they'd had going on. He wanted to not question everything Hannibal said and wonder if it was some new angle to manipulate him or ruin his life because Hannibal had commitment issues that he'd never learned to deal with.
Betrayal rang through his mind. The word demanded his attention. Demanded that he remember exactly what Hannibal had done. That sure, he could ignore the worst of Hannibal to enjoy the best of him, but he'd never truly enjoy Hannibal's presence ever again if they didn't move past the betrayal they'd put each other through.
Betrayal and forgiveness were both seen only in the deepest of relationships. Like familial or romantic ones. He and Hannibal had not been in a romance, but when he looked back on it, that's what it felt like. Will had been betrayed by friends before, and never had it hurt as much as Hannibal's betrayal had. That was enough proof that what had gone on between them wasn't a normal relationship.
Add on the whole Abigail issue, and the emotional and mental wounds were still incredibly deep. Sure, his abdomen had healed within six and a half months, but the rest of him hadn't no matter how he soldiered on.
"Is it ever possible to regain what we've lost?" Hannibal asked from somewhere behind him. How he'd been watching Will stare at the snow, Will had no clue, and he didn't care.
"I doubt to the extent you're imagining. My naive trust in you has fractured beyond repair, Hannibal. You're not a very honest individual and it's your dishonesty that spurs others on to be dishonest in return. I opened up to you and you manipulated that and lied and allowed me to hurt myself all in the name of some ridiculous experiment of yours. And then tried to pretend that nothing harmful happened to me in the process. Very selfish of you."
"I never said I wasn't selfish."
True.
Hannibal sighed. "I will not apologize for my original plan. I had merely hoped to string you along and then kill you when the time is right. Then Tobias happened and while he himself was useless, it was the whole situation with he and Franklyn that opened my eyes to the fact that I didn't think of you as an experiment any longer, and even considered you as something more, and considered what more you could be to me beyond that.
"Details changed after that, and death wasn't the goal. I'm not ashamed of my first plan. I'm ashamed that I made too many mistakes in the second and third because I assumed I knew everything and that I held all the cards. I tried to make it up to you by misplacing Abigail for a while with hopes of surprising you, and when you came to me smelling of Freddie Lounds, I wanted to hurt you because I too had opened up to you once I finally believed you understood and accepted me.
"I had no guarantee that you weren't selling my secrets to her. I told you things I've never told anyone, Will. And you were setting me up, and it looked especially bad on my end. So I acted out, and I regret that Abigail ended up suffering because we lack proper communicative abilities. I am sorry for some things, but not others, and I did once tell you I'd use apologies sparingly."
Hearing how Hannibal had seen everything did help Will put things into perspective. To understand what Hannibal had also been going through. His whole life being turned around because of one man being far too observant for his own good.
Learning to care about someone again. Falling in love with that person. Hating that such a weakness had come upon Hannibal Lecter of all people.
Will could finally understand.
He wasn't happy about it, but he could understand Hannibal's side. And now Hannibal understood his.
It wasn't much, but it was progress of a sort.
Driving without and eye was very dangerous. Good thing Duncan had spent a year in his youth training to see with only one eye at a time. While not having both eyes anymore was annoying, especially since it meant a damn eye patch had to be worn now, he wasn't that impaired by it. And he was heavily doped on pain medication to numb anything for the next several hours.
He'd contemplated stopping in Triple Oak for a few things, but decided that he just wanted to be home and he could wait. He'd also prefer to get there before the pain meds wore off and he was forced to drive with his body screaming at him for mistreating it.
The snow was shoveled as he drove up the path. Will had to have spent forever on it. Perhaps when he was better, he could reward the man for a job well done.
All pleasant thoughts halted when he took note of the black Mustang parked beside Will's Volvo. He was unfamiliar with anyone who drove such a vehicle. It was surrounded by piled up snow, meaning it had been parked there long enough to get covered. Hours at the very least. Days if it had been shoveled out more than once.
He could hear the dogs barking when he carefully headed up the stairs, his leg protesting the movement. The door was flung wide open, Will looking relieved to see him. And then that relief vanished into horror as he took in Duncan's appearance.
"What the fuck did you get into?"
"There were some… complications," he settled for, wincing just a bit as the medicine started wearing off and the dull throbbing became noticeable.
"Complications? You're missing an eye! One that you had when you left. You're limping. What'd you do, fight an army?"
He offered a pained shrug. "I lost count after the hundredth kill." Blut's men simply kept on coming and he had kept on killing them. Counting had taken up too much mental effort and attention, so he had to stop. He could honestly say that it was the largest amount of people he'd ever killed in one go.
A personal record.
Will took him by the hand and lead him into the cabin. The wind forced the door shut easily.
"Hannibal, I've thought of a way for you to start getting on my good side once again!"
Duncan nearly froze at the name. So that was the owner of the foreign car outside. He'd been under the impression that Will's friend was out of the country.
From the kitchen stepped a man that made Duncan blink in astonishment. When Will had insisted that they were similar, he hadn't been lying. This Hannibal Lecter looked very much like Duncan, though clean shaven and in better health at present. He was clad in an atrocious, blue plaid suit with a cream and pink paisley tie. His dark blond hair was parted at the side and then brushed back. His eyes were like dried blood.
They were even the exact same height. The likeness was unexpected for many reasons, and judging by the man's own reaction, he felt the same way.
Will made a wide gesture with his free hand. "Duncan Vizla, Hannibal Lecter. Hannibal, this is my partner." He then looked at Duncan and said, "He appeared the second day you were gone. Found my address from Mason's men's bodies once he was done carving them up like turkeys."
Lecter did not offer to shake his hand. Didn't even offer a polite nod of recognition. The man looked sour and Will looked amused at the both of them.
"Hannibal here wasn't always a psychiatrist. He can look you over."
"I'm not so bad that I nee-"
"Has a medical professional actually looked you over?" interrupted Will, cocking an eyebrow in disbelief.
Duncan sagged. "No."
"Then Hannibal will look you over. Hannibal, I have a well-stocked med-kit in the bathroom. Be my hero and fetch it for me. Duncan, on the bed, but get that shirt off first. Don't expect to be keeping it either, it looks ruined from whatever injury was reopened."
Dammit.
He did as ordered though, not wanting to know what Will would do when he was angry. At least not when he was angry at Duncan. Anyone else would be interesting to say the least. Will seemed like the kind of person that could have a sharp temper.
Lecter joined them a moment later, and set the red box on the bed beside Duncan. He then removed his suit coat and began rolling up his sleeves. "List your injuries in order from most severe to least, and describe your pain level for me," the man ordered firmly, fully in the mind of a doctor of medicine now, dislike for Duncan set aside as he grabbed a pair of latex gloves.
With a sigh, he followed through, exposing each limb as he did so and explaining what happened for him to obtain each and every laceration, abrasion, broken bone, and more. Will stood by looking worried the entire time and Duncan spared him a serene smile in hopes of calming him down some.
"I'll be fine," he told the younger man quietly. "It isn't as bad as it looks."
"You only have one eye to look with now, how would you know?"
"I admit the missing eye is certainly new, but every other injury is something I've experienced before at least once. They're nothing new to me. I will live just as I have before." Just he always would.
Duncan Vizla wasn't an easy person to kill as he had demonstrated to Blut and his mighty defenders very thoroughly. No one in that company, whatever was left of it anyway, would come near him again.
"So what exactly happened that had you captured and tortured?"
A/N: Another is done!
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Chapter Text
A/N: Hello, people!
I don't own Hannibal.
I have no beta.
ENJOY!
CHECK ME OUT ON TUMBLR. HELLY-WATERMELONSMELLINFELLON.
Will only asked his question once he was certain Hannibal would actually help and not try to subtly murder Duncan. That wouldn't be the way to Will's heart though so of course he didn't do it, but that didn't stop Will from worrying. Hannibal could be the pettiest of bitches from time to time. He wouldn't dare assume Hannibal wouldn't want to get rid of competition if the chance presented itself.
"Ambushed," was Duncan's answer. "Trusted an old comrade who loved money more than my trust. Blut put hits on everyone the moment they get too close to fifty. A clause in the contract states that the company has to pay us our due once we retire, however if we die before turning fifty and have no next of kin arranged to accept our payments, then the money stays in the company's pocket. Blut didn't want to pay, so he put hits on us and had his younger assassins try to take us out."
It was the most he'd ever said in one sitting. Almost too much for Will to grasp at once.
Will tasked when he finally caught up. "All over money?" Even when growing up poor Will had never put so much faith and adoration into paper.
Duncan shrugged a shoulder that wasn't fucked up. "They owed me eight million, which is the most of anyone in the history of the company because my success rate on the job is perfect. They now owe me twenty in reparation, and the installments will be made steadily every month for the next twenty years. The secretary was very much willing to overlook her boss' decapitation and get things settled for me."
Of course Duncan had managed to get to his former boss and end his pathetic existence. Will was actually very proud he'd managed to do anything even after being torture.
"All I wanted was my hard-earned paycheck and now I'm getting nearly three times that amount." Duncan shrugged as if it wasn't an amazing tale of human capability.
"And how did you lose your eye?"
Duncan sighed. "Three days of torture. And yes, it hurt the entire time and no, I wasn't mentally present for all of it."
Will placed a hand on Duncan's uninjured cheek since the other had a nasty, inflamed cut running across it and he didn't want to agitate it any further. "At least you came back. That's the big bonus I suppose."
A glance up showed him that Hannibal was frowning heavily at them, his jealousy peeking out more and more as he time passed. Hannibal did not do well when the subject of his affections was paying attention to someone else entirely.
It was kind of funny to see a man of his reputation, so easily swayed by his emotions where Will was concerned. Hannibal had prided himself on having sturdy self-control for ages, and within minutes it was gone in Will's presence.
"He'll need rest for the next few days," Hannibal explained as he removed his gloves. "No over-exertion. No intense shifts in exposure to temperature. Just a lot of sleep and regular cleanings and airing out of his wounds. He also has a fever and will need to drink much water and no alcohol of any sort."
Will was helping his lover into bed and tucking him in. He ran an affectionate hand over the man's sweaty brow, brushing his hair out of his face in the process. "Sleep. I'll have something for you to eat when you wake up." The two shared a quick kiss before Will stood and began ushering Hannibal from the room.
"Thanks for that. I know it was practically killing you inside to have to do it, but it means a lot that you did." Will's voice was pitched down to give Vizla some privacy, no doubt trying to lull him into sleeping now that the house was quiet and the dogs had lost interest in what was going on.
"For you, I did it. Only for you and no other reason."
Will met his gaze head on, and a small smile tipped his upper up just a bit. "I know. And it's sweet that you took it seriously too."
"Give me some credit, dear Will. I am a borderline psychopath but even I take my job seriously. I didn't suffer all that time in medical schooling for nothing. I take pride in my skills." Being the only person around with the ability to save a life as quickly as he could end it, had always been a thrilling concept to him. Even if Hannibal didn't fancy himself a god, he liked having the ability to cast judgment upon others.
He didn't expect Will's hand to come up and lightly brush against his cheekbone. Will looked to be almost reverential, which was something Hannibal had been dreaming of for months. He'd wanted Will to look at him like this for so long, because Will was the only one who could make him feel so warm inside. And yet even with all their little games, Will's interest had never taken that sort of turn. His flirtation hadn't even contained deliberate sexual undertones, because he hadn't been thinking of Hannibal the way Hannibal thought of him.
"It's moments like this where it's very easy to love you," Will said in a whisper almost too low for Hannibal to make out, eyes all soft like they'd been back in Hannibal's kitchen. So open and displaying Will's heart gladly to any observer. As if Will was relying on him for emotional stability once again.
His breath halted. That was what he'd been wanting more than anything over the last few months. Actions did speak so much louder than words, but sometimes the words were more important. Sometimes the heart needed them more than the brain. And the utter sincerity in Will's eyes and voice as those words came out made Hannibal feel lighter than he had in months. Things weren't perfect yet, and they still had so much to work through, but it felt like things could get better eventually.
A moment of hesitation between them, before Will leaned up to close the distance with their first kiss. Many times had Hannibal imagined kissing Will Graham, and his memory palace had helped him fashion the most filthy of scenes between them for him to vicariously live through. He'd never expected it to be soft and sweet, and almost pure in a sense. Considering who they were as people, purity didn't seem to be something they were very familiar with.
Will didn't flinch when Hannibal's hand reached up to cup his face lovingly. The two were engrossed in each other and the passion they'd both been holding back since being reunited. There was none of that awkward tension between them in this moment. Just them doing what they'd both obviously wanted to do.
Hannibal vacantly recalled Will's words about his partner suggesting a polyamorous relationship, and he could understand it now. He wanted Will. Vizla wanted Will. And Will cared about the both of them very much, and didn't want to give up either.
Vizla was the one to suggest that type of relationship. Not Will. Not Hannibal. He couldn't be angry that this was happening. He had suggested it to make Will happy.
Will pulled away then, his face pinkened and eyes glossy with unshed tears. "I think we'll be able to work through our various issues so long as we communicate with each other, okay, Hannibal? I don't want to let you go again. I don't think I could survive the separation."
He felt the same. Letting Will go had been the worst decision he'd ever made. "We're conjoined. The only way I'd leave you is if you demanded it of me, and even then I'm not so certain I would comply," Hannibal confessed, feeling exposed in more ways than one. "You're family, Will."
His confession earned him a darling smile from his Will, and the very first embrace where Will instigated it while being of sound mind and body. Hannibal accepted the movement, knowing that Will was seeking comfort and perhaps a place to gather himself in safety. He needed this as physically as he did mentally and emotionally.
When Hannibal looked up, he found himself making eye contact with Duncan Vizla, whose dark eyes watched them from Will's bed. He looked considerate. No trace of jealousy in his frame.
Hannibal was almost jealous of how devoted the man was to Will that he wanted Will to be happy even if it wasn't solely with him. Knowing Will for only two months and he was this dedicated to Will's future happiness. It was a respectable thing. Hannibal couldn't fault him for it. Not because it benefited Hannibal in the end, but because Vizla had the strength to do the first time, what Hannibal needed multiple chances to accomplish. And even now he wasn't that good at it.
Some people were masters upon their first attempt, and some had to learn along the way. When it came to Will Graham, Hannibal's usual take on situations was reversed on him in the most unpleasant way.
Now he just had to make certain he didn't ruin everything again. And he doubted Vizla would let him. There was danger in the man's dark eyes, and Hannibal knew the other was equally dangerous. Killing one hundred people and walking away still mostly in one piece save for a missing eye, was a testament to his skills. Hannibal would have to be careful.
Duncan was pouting. He was man enough to admit that he was pouting, and he felt that he had all the right to do it given the circumstances of the situation.
It had snowed, as usual, and ended up covering their vehicles in over a foot of snow. That meant it needed to be shoveled before it got any worse than it already was. So he'd gotten up with full intentions to get dressed and get a head start on it, when Hannibal Lecter, the man who would be Will's other lover eventually, shook his head and ordered him back to bed with threats of telling Will he wasn't watching his health.
And where was Will? Outside shoveling while Lecter cooked enough breakfast for five people at the very least.
"Will would be most displeased if you managed to hurt yourself even more when this time is meant for convalescence," Lecter added as he turned back for the kitchen. "Do not extend the time you need to heal by being foolish with your generosity."
Already he was a far more talkative sort than Duncan would have preferred, but he wasn't that annoying. He was also a psychiatrist, so it made sense that he would like talking. And according to a book Duncan once read, psychopaths tended like hearing themselves speak. They liked showing off as well.
Duncan didn't necessarily consider himself a psychopath. Not with the old or new definitions of the term either. He wasn't necessarily sane, but he wasn't a maniac he believed. Though the more he watched Lecter, he wasn't certain that Lecter fit the traditional definition of psychopath either. There was an extra level of understanding in his own actions that put him above the definition as well.
He wasn't tired. He couldn't force himself to just lay in a bed all day, he'd truly go mad from that lone. Instead, he gently lowered himself into a chair in the kitchen, ignoring the doctor's childish tsking in the process.
Two red pills that he recognized to be Ibuprofen, were placed in front of him along with a glass of water. "I generally frown upon medication, however Will wanted you to receive some. If you decide not to consume it, I will not be held responsible for whatever pain you experience in the next several hours."
Definitely a talker.
"Hm," was Duncan's response as he swallowed both pills instantly and then downed the whole glass of orange juice in two gulps.
The front door opened, and Will came in, kicking snow off his boots and placing the blue shovel of his against the wall by the door. The dogs were seated on the veranda, waiting for permission to come inside. So well-trained that they each knew what order to come in, and what to do the moment their paws touched the carpet.
Several minutes later, the fire was set and the dogs were resting in the lounge to get warm. Will smiled upon seeing him up. "Did you take some medicine?"
Lecter's knowing glance made Duncan snort lightly. "Yes."
A nod then. "Good. Hannibal, what are you making?"
"French toast sticks and bacon. You have a lot of bacon on hand and I figured it would be more preferable than anything else which would be better suited for a supper rather than a breakfast."
"The phrase 'most important meal of the day' means we can eat whatever the fuck we want for breakfast because it's meant to give us energy to start the day off with."
The look of utter agony that came over Lecter's face in that moment, got even a low chuckle from Duncan. He was obviously one of those anal retentive people who preferred to have a set schedule that they kept without deviation. Only certain foods at certain times of day. Only certain colors with other colors. Certain patterns with other patterns.
"I'm so glad we've progressed to this point in our relationship where I can flat out tell you this without fearing murder as retaliation," Will began, a teasing grin on his face, "You are the biggest drama queen I have ever met."
The offended look that replaced the pained one, made Will throw his head back and laugh.
Duncan watched how they interacted. He'd heard bits and pieces from Will about how they'd met and became friends. He knew some of what Hannibal Lecter had done to Will. He was displeased with that information too, but Will was emotionally attached and he wouldn't want to hurt Will in the process.
Besides, watching how Lecter looked at Will, showed that Will wasn't the only one caught. Lecter had fallen hard at some point, and he looked at Will as if he was some god come down to grace the lives of the lowly mortals. He looked as if he would worship Will on hands and knees if given the opportunity to do so.
Duncan did not envy their relationship, because his relationship with Will had started because of only good things, and there was no pain between them to linger on. Duncan had nothing to regret in his relationship, and that was why he accepted Lecter's presence so easily in their territory.
There was nothing to fear, because Will was fond of the both of them, and he kissed them both with a tenderness that Duncan had rarely seen in people. Kissing Lecter the same way he kissed Duncan, showed that he held them both in equal regard, just for different reasons.
"Are we just going to go back to Mason's, milk him, and kill him? Is that really the only detail of this plan?" Will asked, feeling as if he was missing something.
Hannibal hummed. "Do you perhaps have something better than extracting his sperm and then placing him somewhere… creative?"
Will shrugged, "Not really. I just want him to live long enough to see and understand that everything he hoped wouldn't happen, is going to happen. It would hurt him a lot more to see the proof of his failure in his face. But we'd need to tear down any control he has, leaving him completely to Margot's control."
Duncan looked between them, a bit confused as he didn't know all the details.
Will decided to enlighten him. "Margot is Mason's younger sister. His father was one of those homophobic Christians who think only men can be in charge of shit, so he made it that Margot, who is a lesbian, can't be the Head of their family and would receive nothing upon his death. If she wants a comfortable life, she has to remain under her brother's thumb and do his bidding. And Mason is…"
"A fiend," Hannibal supplied readily. "A pedophile. A rapist. Even before I got involved in the family drama, he was already terrible. Even by my standards of brutality."
Duncan's jaw tightened a bit at that. He'd never been fond of those kinds of people. The hits for people like that always let him feeling darkly pleased with himself.
"Yeah," Will agreed. "And Hannibal interference saw Mason orchestrating a car crash for his sister where he paid to surgically remove her ability to have children right there. If she'd had a child, that child would be named the Verger Heir and she would gain control of the family if Mason suddenly died, and she'd hold that position until they were old enough to be the Head. The absence of a male Heir makes everything the Verger estate owns, go directly to the Southern Baptist Church. Mason didn't want competition for control, and he wanted to keep lording over his sister, so he removed any chance of of a Verger baby coming about. "
"Mostly any chance," Hannibal amended with a smirk. "Mason can still father children even if he's somewhat paralyzed at present."
Will snorted, his darker leaning more obvious than ever before. "Hannibal knows how to break someone's neck without killing them," he said for Duncan's understanding.
"And I also know how to properly apply a cattle prod to the prostate gland to force an orgasm or three," Hannibal said with a little flair. "Mason won't know what hit him until it's too late."
A/N: Another is done!
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Chapter Text
A/N: Hello, people!
I don't own Hannibal.
I have no beta.
ENJOY!
CHECK ME OUT ON TUMBLR. HELLY-WATERMELONSMELLINFELLON.
"I'll be gone all day and possibly the next morning because there are some things that I must acquire and it's best to do that now instead of waiting until the last possible moment," Hannibal said that morning at breakfast.
Will sent him an odd look. "How the hell have you been getting around? I would've thought you'd have been detained at some point. You have a very distinctive face and aren't the best at blending in."
Hannibal fought the embarrassment creeping up his spine and he reached into his pocket and pulled out the fake mustache he'd been using while traveling. He then attached it to his face and watched as Will devolved into a fit of laughter. The genuine joy in his eyes lessened the embarrassment by a lot though. Seeing Will so unabashedly happy was nice for a change.
"Are you fucking serious?!" the man howled. "That's all you did to get back into the country? No one noticed you at all?"
"I did purchase some green contact lenses and I do let my facial hair grow in a bit. That's why I haven't shaved since coming here."
He was close to resembling Will any day now. The scruff has been growing in quickly, unlike Will who took forever for hair to grow in at all.
"I also do not have access to a straight razor and prefer that type of shave." More personal. And... dare Hannibal say it, but the feel of the blade sliding over his throat was damn near erotic.
Will was looking back and forth between Hannibal and Vizla, his mirth still present. "God, it's like looking at a pair of twins. Hannibal is a little older and yet Duncan looks like he's got a decade on you. Hannibal, life has been far too easy on your pampered ass. Your hair better start looking like salt and pepper some time soon. This is ridiculous."
Hannibal took very good care of his appearance. It wasn't wrong to appreciate the luxuries that life had to offer. And he supposed Will was right in a sense. Hannibal had been very privileged in life to even be able to indulge whenever he wanted, but that didn't mean everything was handed to him. Hard work was involved as well.
"And what name are you going by with this whole new look you've got going on?" Will asked once his laughter had finally stopped.
Why did he have to ask any of these questions at all? Why was it necessary? Why must he try so hard to embarrass Hannibal?
Wordlessly, Hannibal handed over his fake ID and waited for the jibes. Will snorted rudely. "Dante Palermo! You're such a fucking drama queen! How no one's caught you I'll never understand. You're far too obvious for this to be healthy."
"Are you going to deal with this Mason Verger soon?" Duncan asked the moment he and Will were left alone.
"After Christmas. Best to get it out of the way as soon as we can. You got to go on a journey to destroy the people trying to kill you, and Hannibal and I have designs for Mason. It'll be like some kind of field trip that ends in blood, gore, and probably cannibalism." Most definitely cannibalism since Hannibal Lecter was involved and judging by what the tabloids said about him, he wouldn't be able to pass up the chance to indulge once again. Dinner and a show.
"I'm coming."
Will's head snapped up in alarm. "No! You're still injured and you need to heal."
"Christmas is in two weeks, Will. I'll be fine by then. I'm not leaving you to fight some psychopath by yourself. Besides, he sounds disturbingly like Blut, and that makes me uncomfortable."
He didn't often voice his feelings, but caring for Will had him constantly thinking about the man and how he was doing. No matter how talented Will and Lecter might be at killing, they had none of Duncan's level of experience. And Duncan didn't like the idea of being alone for the few days it would take from them to go and come back.
Loneliness was no longer a palatable thought. He'd been looking forward to it several months ago, and then Will Graham moved into the cabin beside his and that whole plan went out the window. Isolation was no longer wanted.
Will was smiling at him. "While it's sweet that you want to protect me, you don't have to put your well being on the line for something that doesn't involve you, you know."
"It involves you, which is enough to involve me. If this man and his vast reach isn't dismantled soon, more people will keep coming after you. I'd prefer him to be removed from the equation completely."
The soft look in Will's eyes made Duncan feel warm inside. Wanted. Appreciated. Things he'd never felt before Will came along.
"For someone who professes to be anti-social and terrible at interacting with others, you're quite the romantic at heart."
"I am anti-social."
Will shook his head and leaned over to place a kiss on Duncan's brow. "And yet you're also adorably romantic and I love it. Never thought I would, but if it's you, it turns out I do."
Duncan sat back as Will moved to get the chess board. He'd never considered himself a romantic, too coarse and harsh and muddied by the world at large. He was efficient, deadly, and emotionless most of the time. And here he was, sappy over a man he'd only known for a little over a month.
He'd never believed that love at first sight was a true thing, but perhaps falling in love in a month was a real possibility. Duncan had felt nothing like this for anyone else he'd ever met. He wasn't exactly sure what love was or ever how to describe it, but if he had to give it an emotion, it was the feeling he was filled with every single time Will Graham looked in his direction.
Like he mattered.
If Will and Lecter ended up so entwined after only knowing each other a few months, they there was nothing wrong with this situation. Especially since there was no angst between he and Will. It was all good feelings.
"I'm sure Hannibal won't mind the extra assistance in dealing with Mason. And if he does, I'll convince him to change his mind," said Will, a suggestive smirk on his face.
The game was quickly set up of them to play, and Will collected the whiskey of the day.
"Isn't it a bit too early for alcohol?"
Will shook his head. "No. Besides, we're going nowhere today, so we don't need to be all that alert for anything."
He wasn't wrong, but Duncan intended to monitor just how much they both consumed anyway. Just to make certain Will didn't choke on his tongue or accidentally hurt himself at all.
Will gestured to the board. "Age before beauty."
"Then I'd still go first no matter which order we use," was Duncan's sly rejoinder, which earned him a playful nudge from Will's foot and a grin.
"I suppose so. If you shaved you'd look a bit younger with those cheekbones that put diamonds to shame. You have a nice face."
Something he'd known for a very long time. Sexual partner had remarked upon it many times.
"It's a face I'd like to sit on."
He withheld a groan. Sex was among the activities he wasn't allowed to participate in at the moment and Will saying such a thing was a horrible way to tease him. Will was being naughty.
To: Grahamcracker.*********
From: BloomingMinds.***********
Will, I know I am probably the last person you would want to speak to right now, but I
didn't know what to do.
I've been Mason Verger's psychiatrist for the past several months, and had been helping
him locate Hannibal. I had thought helping him would be the way to get my own revenge
on Hannibal for what he had done to me. I've recently learned that Mason found out your
location because of a talk I had with his sister Margot, who I am seeing secretly.
I hadn't thought it wouldn't be safe to speak on private matters while in the privacy of her
bedroom, and didn't realize what a foolish thought that was. Please tell me you're okay? I
didn't mean for you to be dragged into any of this, I swear.
Hannibal killed the men who came after him and I'm worried about you.
Will looked up from the email he'd only just received and snorted. 'What Hannibal had done to her'? Lying, taking the bullets out of her gun, and telling her to continue being blind to the truth as a last chance to get out alive? All of that and she was acting as if she'd been the most wronged by him in the entire situation?
Duncan's hand trailed over his shoulder and curled around the nape of his neck. "Are you well?"
He sighed, sagging under the weight of his annoyance and pushing his way into Duncan's grip, seeking comfort. "An old acquaintance being a pain in my ass with her victim behavior."
"Is she a victim?"
"Not to the degree she's acting like. Out of everyone Hannibal fucked over, she got out with the least amount of troubles. I was dying on the floor of his kitchen from him gutting me. He let me remain ill for weeks with Encephalitis because he was curious what would happen the longer it went unchecked. I was thrown in an asylum with the blame of his murders and my reputation, whatever I had of it, was destroyed beyond repair even after I was acquitted.
"Jack, the Head of the BAU, also nearly died. Lost two coworkers of his own to Hannibal's machinations. Was being manipulated through conversations with him. Chilton, the head of the asylum, needed re-constructive surgery and has lost whatever credibility he had and can't reclaim his old job. Mason was forced to cut his own face off and feed it to my dogs, and then Hannibal broke his neck without killing him so he'd suffer the rest of his life in a wheelchair. Margot lost whatever chance she had to have the happy family she's always wanted, and was hospitalized for quite some time. Abigail lost an ear. Had to fake being dead. Had to play his games so her future wasn't ruined any further. And then he killed her to punish me, because we're both so terrible at communicating, making her a casualty she shouldn't have ever been."
It was an information dump revealed rapidly, his mind trying to find words to express his aggravation with Alana's victim complex.
"Alana got pushed out a window by a teen girl who wasn't ordered to do it. Abigail did it of her own volition to protect us all. Hannibal did next to nothing to Alana in the grand scheme of things and it just pisses me off that she would sink to a level that she's spurned for years, for her own sake and not even the collective sake of all of his victims. And yet at this level now, she still tries to play the angel."
"Humans nature is inherently selfish," said Duncan calmly. "She only has her perspective to see through."
But she saw the effects of everyone else's association with Hannibal. Even if she cannot place herself into the minds of others like Will can, there is no excuse to act as if she's suffered the most out of everyone and disparage their experiences.
"She's the reason Mason knows where I live. And she's begging for forgiveness."
"Will you give it?" Duncan asked as he nuzzle into Will's neck, his mouth doing wondrous things to distract him from his ire.
"No." Maybe a year ago he would have gladly accepted her words. Maybe even been stupid enough to think that something could come of them. After everything he'd gone through with her, Jack, Hannibal, and Abigail, Will just wasn't into that anymore.
By moving out to Washington, he'd also separated himself from her and Jack. To avoid them and their surprise visits. Less of a chance to harass someone over anything when you couldn't reach them after an hour long drive. Will's eyes had been opened to a lot recently. Alana would never have been right for him.
"Lay down with me. You can use some rest."
He allowed Duncan to pull him toward the bed. He could shovel snow later.
Hannibal had to make a few calls here and there. He needed to obtain some information, some new clothing for all three of them of course, and food. Better food at least. Palatable food that didn't come from a convenient mart on sale after two weeks of sitting unwanted in the freezer.
With his new mobile held to his ear, Hannibal waited for the other side to pick up.
"Moshi moshi," came the dulcet tones of his aunt's handmaiden, Chiyoh. Family.
"Hello, Chiyoh. There have been some changes to the original plan. We might anticipate an extra person coming with us. Please double the amount of clothing awaiting me and then separate the amount into two even bags. I will be sharing."
Since Duncan Vizla was basically Hannibal's twin, down to their height and body mass, the man would fit in Hannibal's clothing. He wasn't about to go out of his way to buy even more clothes when it was unnecessary. Hannibal liked making a statement and refused to go after Mason Verger without being properly prepared.
Everything was a performance.
"Anything else?" asked Chiyoh.
"How did the disposal of dear Bedelia come along?"
"The polizia have found her body."
"Good."
He loved it when a plan came to fruition. And Jack would be so pained to learn of another person he was unable to save.
"Please deliver the clothes to the address I gave you. A brief explanation to the owner of the house, and then back to the hotel to await further instructions."
Chiyoh would do as she was told, because she'd always done so. Even now with leaving the Lecter Estate to follow his orders when she'd never left since arriving there all those years ago.
They were in the middle of a late dinner, which was fish unsurprisingly, when the doorbell sounded. The dogs hadn't made a single sound either, which made the both of them share a look of confusion and interest.
Duncan moved to get the door, but Will gave him a pointed look, and he ended up leaning back in his seat and letting younger lover do the work. But he was fingering the steak knife in his hand, ready to throw it with deadly precision at a moment's notice. He was well-trained on how to use many weapons, and even things that weren't necessarily weapons, but could be used to make someone bleed if necessary.
Will opened the door to reveal a tall woman of Asian decent, clad in high quality, black clothing. Her double-breasted coat reached her mid-thigh, and her multi-buckled boots reached her knees. Her hair was parted to the side and pulled back in a small bun. She had an understated type of beauty, and did nothing to accentuate it. A woman of practicality first and foremost.
"Can I help you?" Will asked, remembering his manners even if his tone rang with distrust.
Her head tilted just the slightest. "I am Chiyoh. Hannibal requested I drop some clothing off for you." Her accent wasn't thick, but still prevalent. She was Japanese. He'd recognize that particular lilt anywhere.
She turned and moved back down the stairs to whatever vehicle she'd brought with her. Will, while obviously confused, shrugged and followed her outside, much to Duncan's dismay. Distrusting of this new person, Duncan stood and decided to keep watch over the two.
There was a massive, black truck blocking them in for the time being. From the backseat the woman and Will withdrew large bags that were typically used to protect expensive clothing from damage and the elements in general. Will grabbed two bags, and the woman took up the last as they headed for the house.
She looked up at him in passing and froze for just a moment when she saw his face. Her shock didn't last as she schooled her features and heading inside, where Duncan quickly followed.
"The red bag is Hannibal's. The Blue is Will Graham's. Hannibal said the last was also his clothing but would be shared. I assume it is with you," Chiyoh said, addressing Duncan fully.
"How do you know Hannibal?" Will asked.
"He is family. I protect him."
She had the face of a seasoned protector. One who would gladly kill in order to keep her charge alive. She looked as if she was missing something important. Something that was meant to be held at her side. A weapon of some sort.
Will eyed her shrewdly. "More like he manipulated you and stuck you in a gilded cage that made you feel beholden to him."
Chiyoh met his gaze head on, unfazed by his observation. "I accept what Hannibal has done. I understand why he has done it. Can you?"
"Yes."
"But did he cage you as well?"
"In a manner of speaking, he tried. Will you still protect him even after whatever he's put you through?"
"I will," she said firmly. "But I will not be caged. Some beasts shouldn't be caged. Would you protect him?"
"Yes."
The two appeared to have come to an understanding that Duncan was at a loss over. He did not know Lecter well enough to understand all the details that slipped between the two. He didn't mind all that much. He didn't want to get to know the man that closely after all.
Chiyoh gave a nod of recognition. "I shall leave you to it." She turned for the door, only stopping in the doorway to say, "There are means of influence other than violence." And then she was gone and the door was closed.
The two lovers shared a look, before turning to the bags of clothing with interest. What lay within?
Knowing Lecter, something expensive.
A/N: Another is done!
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Chapter 10: Meeting Halfway
Summary:
Having to learn acceptance can be difficult.
Notes:
-Still some tensions that need to be dealt with.
-Mentions of other Mads characters. ^-*
Chapter Text
A/N: Hello, people!
I don't own Hannibal.
I have no beta.
ENJOY!
CHECK ME OUT ON TUMBLR. HELLY-WATERMELONSMELLINFELLON.
"Of course Hannibal would have these prepared for me," Will groaned the moment he got a look at the clothes that were supposed to be for him. It was like he was sinking back into his plan of seduction all over again. Hannibal obviously preferred it when Will was clean cut and dashing all the time. A perfect accompaniment to Hannibal's own appearance. And while he'd gone light on the plaid suits, the bright teal blue was a bit much.
"He does realize that this is essentially a hit, not a night at the opera, yes?" Duncan asked when he got a good look at the clothes set in the bag for Will. He didn't look unfamiliar with them, but he did seem to share Will's opinion on their necessity.
Will snorted. "Hannibal murders people while dressed in three-piece suits. And with a plastic onesie over the top to protect said suits from getting messy. He's a drama queen as I have stated many a time." No killer that had ever crossed Will's path before, had ever done it quite like Hannibal did, that was for certain. "He also fancies the opera more than what should be considered healthy and has probably gone killing right after a good show."
Duncan hummed but said nothing.
Hannibal had basically sent along thousands of dollars worth of high quality clothing because he had some weird need for flamboyance when involved in his hobby. Hannibal liked having attention no matter who it was from. Though he obviously liked it most when it came from Will.
Seeing that Duncan didn't seem interested in checking whatever had been brought for him, Will decided to check everything himself.
"I'm not wearing that," said Duncan the moment his eyes landed on a plaid suit that looked like something Hannibal would definitely wear.
"You would look good in it though."
"I look good in everything," Duncan asserted with a shrug. "But I'm still not wearing it."
"You look good out of everything too," Will added with a sly grin. "And I bet I can convince you to wear it."
"Sex isn't allowed, Will."
Will pushed his way into Duncan's arms and grinned. "All you have to do is sit still when I put my mouth on your cock. You can do that, right?"
The older man gulped, his remaining eye clouding over with lust that Will had managed to put there. "I suppose if you're talented enough, I could be persuaded to do a lot of things."
The dogs were outside for the first time in the morning, and the two men where standing at the banister like always, watched as they frolicked about. In the distance they could see the lights of a vehicle approaching, and the large stripe revealed it to be Hannibal.
Barking and wildly wagging tails greeted the blond as he moved toward the trunk of the car. From it he retrieved several bags. Not plastic like one would get at a common supercenter. Those fancy insulated ones acquired at stores like Wegmans. And just by looking at them, Will already knew that Hannibal had gone and splurged on better quality ingredients for the next however many days when it wasn't necessary for him to do so.
"There are more bags if you would be so kind, dear Will," said Hannibal as he carried his load into the house.
When everything was bought it, Will got a good look at what Hannibal had decided was necessary.
"How do you still have so much money?" he ended up asking, eying the assortment of King Crab and Lobster that Hannibal thought was necessary for some reason.
The former psychiatrist sent him a look of pure innocence that was faker than fake. "I have more than one account, good Will. And those not within the FBI's realm of notice, are managed by a very highly trusted financier I've known for some time. Meeting him was what convinced me that each person has an unrelated twin somewhere. He looks much like Duncan and I. Though his hair is more of a dark brown and one eye is fake."
Will tried to imagine a Hannibal with dark brown hair and a glass eye. It was easier than he thought. And still looked pretty bad ass too. "Where's he from?"
"Albania. I am from Lithuania."
Pretty far apart.
Will looked to Duncan expectantly, wanting to know where he hailed from.
"I'm from Denmark."
Very far apart in the end and no real chance for any of them to be related to each other. Will wondered if he also had a twin lingering around somewhere. And how like him would they be? "And this friend of yours manages your accounts?"
"Something like that. He manages the accounts of many world-class criminals and terrorist organizations. The great cypher that he is."
"Le Chiffre," said Duncan with an almost reverential tone and a nod of the head. "Worked with Blut now and then if it was necessary. He handles my offshore accounts as well. I've never even seen him before, but he gets the work done and doesn't care who you are so long as he gets paid on time. He's said to be a genius and keeps all information in his head alone."
So everyone but Will knew of this man. "I'm still not over the fact that there are essentially three of you out in the world."
Hannibal sent him a calming smile. "I'm certain there is an equally amazing duplicate of you somewhere in the world, dear Will. No need to feel lonely."
He winced. That wasn't exactly a pleasing thought. Multiples of Will running around would just stress him out more. Considering they would have his face and if any of them got into trouble, he could be held accountable for it. Though, he paused, giving consideration to what he'd seen recently. It didn't seem like anyone had noticed Hannibal re-entering the country, nor had anyone seen to call Duncan the Chesapeake Ripper.
Maybe humanity was simply that stupid that a change of facial hair was enough to fool anyone. That didn't paint humanity in a positive light honestly. He was kind of disappointed. The FBI had Hannibal's name and face up everywhere they could get it and yet Hannibal still managed to slip in undetected.
God, he was just reminded that at some point they might try to call him in to find Hannibal again. The irony of that thought alone!
"Why did you get crab of all things?" There was no need for crab all the way up in the mountains.
"I like having a seafood platter at Christmas."
"You don't celebrate Christmas," Will pointed out.
"Neither do you, but I'm certain you wouldn't mind an extravagant meal you wouldn't normally be able to have. Many of my former associates didn't celebrate the holiday either and I would host a dinner party on Christmas day. Seafood has always been a major preference from those dining at my table."
Hannibal proceeded to pull out several of the lobster tails, and Will could just imagine the dollar signs piling up the more and more they were lined up on the table alongside other expensive seafood. Hannibal must have gone to Seattle to shop since he was gone all damn day.
A look to Duncan saw him completely unfazed. The man would probably eat relatively anything put in front of him, so no shock there. Before Will moved in beside him, he'd gone to Triple Oak every day for dinner. Now he ate home-cooked meals every single night. Having something warm might be all he really needed to be happy.
"I can't believing you're making a Christmas dinner."
"There is no reason we cannot indulge ourselves before setting out to handle Mason. I've never spared any expense when it came to my own desires. The world offers many pleasures."
Duncan snorted, but said nothing in response to Hannibal's words. Hannibal sent the man an unamused look in return.
The fact that they managed to coexist without slitting each other's throats was good enough for Will. And Hannibal's mild jealousy and slight annoyance over not being impressive to someone new, was hilarious to watch.
"I am not playing a board game," Hannibal insisted the moment Will produced something called 'Parcheesi' on his kitchen table and Vizla immediately sat in his usual chair. The one he'd obviously claimed. And Will had taken the one he usually sat in, leaving Hannibal to not occupy the one that had been relegated to him upon his arrival.
Hannibal had never found entertainment in card games and he was certain board games wouldn't be any different. And no, he did not consider chess to be a game. The word game implied there was fun and entertainment to be had and he'd never had fun winning without a challenge.
Will stared up a him, a small pout forming on his lips. And that little dip made him feel almost guilty in a sense.
"I will occupy the piano for the time being," he said, turning for the lounge. "You two can entertain yourselves."
As he got further away, he could hear Will murmuring lowly to his lover, "Told you I can't convince him to not be a stuck up ass for two minutes. That's why you're more fun and why I'll go down on you."
Hannibal did an abrupt about face and stomped back on over to plop into the vacant seat in a most unseemly manner. He glared at Will with very obvious aggravation and said, "I don't find things like this interesting, but if it'll get you to stop being a petty bitch, then I'll play without the need for oral sex as payment."
Will's jaw dropped at Hannibal's blatant disrespect, and for a second he felt as if he might have gone too far. That maybe he should have controlled his temper a bit more in response. No risen to the bait.
But then Will snorted and that built up guilt flew out the window. "You've finally devolved to my level! Even you will drop all your fancy sangfroid to be an equally as petty a bitch as I am and it's glorious!"
Somehow, Hannibal came away feeling like he got played. In more ways than one.
And in the end, he still didn't like board games and had an absolutely dreadful time. He had a feeling board games were more meant for lively people whose energy would seep into the space around them and be fed off of by their friends.
Hannibal was bored the entire time and remained silent. And even when they moved on to 'Phase 10' which was a card game, his opinion didn't change in the least.
His version of having a good time was a book. Or the piano or harpsichord. Reading a new scientific journal. Going to the opera or a ballet. Sitting in an art gallery admiring the work around him and trying to understand what an artist was picturing. Even planning an elaborate murder was more entertaining than sitting still for three hours, doing something he didn't like. It reminded him of the English lessons he'd been forced to take back when his uncle first adopted him.
Language classes were always the worst because grammar wasn't fun. And now he'd found something that was on par with those. His hatred spread equally between them.
Even seeing Will quietly enjoying himself didn't lighten Hannibal's mood.
"I think you need to be a little bit more tolerant with him."
Will blinked, not expecting Duncan to say that of all things to him. But Duncan looked dead serious - though to be fair he kind of looked like that all the time, it was just how his face was set - as he brought his cigarette up to his mouth. "He'd didn't want to play and he only did to make you happy and shut you up. You say you want to work things out between you, but him sacrificing his time for something he doesn't like, isn't going to help your relationship heal."
"But he didn't even make an attempt to enjoy himself," Will said in defense.
Duncan shrugged. "Hard to enjoy yourself when you're trapped in a situation that bores you. Sure he's a bit too pompous about it, but I'm certain that if he took you to some fancy opera you wouldn't try to make the best of it. You'd be bored, pouting, and not paying attention the whole evening as you deliberately try to get lost in your own head."
Well when he put it like that. Will guilt-tripping Hannibal into doing something he didn't want to, had a terrible result. A result that would be mirrored if Hannibal had guilt-tripped him into going to see the newest opera he was looking forward to. Completely different interests forcing them both to suffer in silence for the other's continued enjoyment.
He sighed. "Okay, so I'm still lashing out over past issues by being petty in the most ridiculous ways I can manage, and he's been very tolerant of it."
"He knows he deserves some of it," concluded Duncan. "But he doesn't deserve all of it. He was not the only person involved in what happened between you. And neither were you. Other people on the outside interfered as well, don't forget."
He had a point. Jack, Alana, Freddie, Mason, and even random fucking strangers getting all up in their business. Abigail as well even if his crushed heart tried to deny it.
What happened between he and Hannibal wasn't solely the fault of either of them.
Will had thought that after receiving Hannibal's apology - the parts of it that were an apology at least - that everything would go back to normal. But the human mind didn't work that way. And the heart was even more fickle than the mind.
Sure in Will's memory palace, there was now a den for the once again healthy Ravenstag to live in that had a nice view of Will and his river, but there were barbs and bear traps set up between the den and the river to keep it at what Will considered a safe distance. As if he was protecting himself just in case Hannibal tried something that might be unsavory.
Things hadn't suddenly become okay between them even with acknowledging all that had happened. Sometimes Will wondered if they would ever manage to get over these problems they shared.
He sighed once again. "I suppose I can try to meet him halfway."
Duncan smiled and placed a fond kiss on Will's brow. A man of so few words was able to make such great points. It was impressive.
Vizla was once again taking Will's bed while Will and Hannibal made use of the pull-out sofa in the lounge. That meant being surrounded by dogs. Thankfully, they were routinely treated and brushed so they weren't messy, and they were also respectful in remaining in their own beds.
A testament to their master's good training. Even the new one was behaving in an exemplary manner.
Ever since they started sharing the bed at night - Will being uncomfortable with having his lover in the other cabin and too far away at night, but not feeling it was safe enough for his convalescence for them to share a bed because Will moved a lot in his sleep - Will had slept on the far side of the bed. Hannibal would sit up late into the night and read by the light of the moon streaming in through the window, and just think on things.
Tonight… something was different.
After a rather sour afternoon of poor attitudes all around, he fully expected Will to once again show Hannibal his back and fall right asleep.
Instead, the brunet turned toward Hannibal and burrowed a bit closer. "This meeting halfway thing is a lot more difficult than I'd first anticipated," he admittedly lowly.
Hannibal hummed, understanding the feeling. Trying to maintain his composure while watching his Will be romantic with another person, was stressful. Trying to respect that decision was like taking multiple bullets to the heart. And yes, Hannibal got a love confession first of a sort, but it had been filled with sadness, regret, and Will had been near tears while saying it. That didn't necessarily make him feel proud.
"Things are different now. Why do you bother staying? We're never going to be as we were."
"Because I want you. I'm a very lonely individual, dear Will. I've come to understand that it's nice not to be alone when the company you keep is worthwhile."
Will hummed. "Yeah, I got to learn that a bit earlier than you did."
Both winced at the reminder of the failures of their relationship. Building a bridge from the burning remains of the last one they'd crafted together seemed impossible. Hannibal had worked hard on the first, and Will had finally given in and connected with him. It crumbled when he got Will arrested for his crimes, Will feeling betrayed one of his few friends. Then the roles reversed once Will was out of prison, the destroyed bridge being rebuilt painstakingly between them until Hannibal had determined Will was being honest and made that last connection. And now here they were trying to reconnect for the third time, standing on opposite shores after that last bridge had crumbled under an unexpected missile strike.
Both wanted that stability and connection again, but what was left of that bridge wouldn't survive another blow. The materials were damaged now and wouldn't hold them up if both weren't absolutely sure of what they wanted.
No room for second guessing themselves.
Will's hand reached for Hannibal's, curling around his fingers and just resting on the bed. Hannibal stared down at them, wondering what it meant.
"Guess the song is right in a sense."
"Hm?"
Will began quoting a song Hannibal was unfamiliar with, his voice a mere somber whisper in the night. "Love hurts. Love scars. Love wounds and marks any heart not tough or strong enough to take a lot of pain. Love is like a cloud, it holds a lot of rain."
A/N: Another is done!
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Chapter 11: Holiday Happenings
Summary:
You might need to fan yourself.
Notes:
-Hanni finally gets some! Will is a devil in disguise!
-Duncan and Hannibal are finally warming up to each other now. Less stiff in regards to one another.
Chapter Text
A/N: Hello, people!
I don't own Hannibal.
I have no beta.
ENJOY!
CHECK ME OUT ON TUMBLR. HELLY-WATERMELONSMELLINFELLON.
Christmas came sooner than expected. Will, because he could, demanded to be in control of the seafood.
"I'm from Louisiana, you two. I lived New Orleans for a while. I know more about cooking seafood than either of you could hope to. But if you're good boys, I'll teach you how to make seafood the right way for any future events we decide to celebrate."
Hannibal was contemplative. "I wasn't aware that you can cook. You never bothered cooking for yourself."
Will shrugged. "I had next to no time usually, and you never asked to take dinner at my house. Also I have helped you cook elaborate meals for the two of us before."
"You chopped ingredients, Will. I did most of the actual cooking."
"But I still have really good skills with a knife and you didn't have to explain to me the differences between dicing and mincing. I thought that would have given it away."
Hannibal remained silent, no doubt not liking that he'd been proven to not be as on the ball as he wanted everyone to believed.
"I know. You were mooning over my ass a lot of the time, but you are very much capable of multitasking, Hannibal. It's not like I have the best ass in the world either, even if it is quite nice."
The look of scandalized offense that overcame Hannibal's sharp features nearly made Will laugh. "I would never."
This time Will actually did laugh. "Lies. I happen to have a very nice ass and everyone likes to gawk at it. Especially you two." He recalled all the times Hannibal was staring at him in his office. Will hadn't grasped exactly what he was looking at with Will's back turned, until most recently to be honest. Still, even Hannibal couldn't deny himself a chance at appreciating a nice ass and denying it wouldn't do him any favors.
Duncan, who was fingering a cigarette he no doubt wanted to go out and smoke, but most likely didn't want to miss a good show, cracked a smile. "It's a very toned ass for a man who does barely any physical work on the daily," he decided to add. "Of course we like to appreciate it."
His blunt attitude was refreshing. Reminded Will a lot of himself actually, which was probably why Duncan was such an appealing character in the first place. Being forthright was sexy. Hannibal could take a few lessons and learn to leave the manipulation behind now and then.
Hannibal's embarrassment had reached new heights though and he refused to meet Will's gaze. One of those rare times in fact, where he seemed overcome with emotion and didn't think he could make eye contact. "I wouldn't wish you to think I am objectifying you. You are worth far more to me than what simple pleasures your body have to offer."
Of course Hannibal would find objectification a distasteful practice. Few things existed that even Hannibal Lecter wouldn't ever take part in, and that seemed to be one of them.
Feeling merciful, Will placed a warm hand on the back of Hannibal's neck, and rubbed soothing circles into his heated, flushed skin. "I know how much you care about me, Hannibal. I don't necessarily think it's healthy at all, but I know that it's there and you mean it with every fiber of your being. Not one bit of your love is disingenuous and I understand that."
The older man looked up at him then, his burgundy eyes making contact unrepentantly now. His pure devotion for Will swam through their reforged connection and almost swamped him entirely.
Being loved so intensely by someone like Hannibal was a trip. especially since Hannibal wasn't too fond of humanity as a whole and always believed himself to be better than others. It always felt nice to be appreciated for the right reasons.
He cast a look in Duncan's direction, seeing him watching Will with an equally intense expression. This one born of pure interest and appreciation rather than through a struggle. And yet he wasn't foolish enough to assume Duncan's devotion was any healthier than Hannibal's. All three of them seemed to be very much into intense emotions and extremes.
If either tried to leave him in any way... Will would not be held accountable for his actions. Even Will was a possessive asshole when the moment called for it.
Christmas dinner was delicious. All three of them contributed to the makings. Hannibal was forced to admit that both Will and Vizla were decent cooks in their own right and had been very useful in the kitchen. Enough to put sous chefs he'd formerly worked with to shame.
Seeing Will so comfortable in a space that Hannibal would primarily consider his own, made Hannibal relax. It was things like this that he'd imagined for them back when he'd planned their jaunt to Europe. He hadn't anticipated an unrelated twin being the third party to join them, but it was still not as bad as it could have been up in the cold mountains of Washington.
Will had a small smile on his face, contented with the events of the past few days. It felt good to know that things seemed to be looking up for them. The last talk they'd had had been eye-opening. Hannibal actually felt like the boulder that had been weighing his shoulders down was gone now. Like things could finally progress now and they could focus on other things now.
Sure there was still much to work through, but the path to healing had been forged and now they had to jointly maintain it. And Vizla... Duncan, had been very instrumental in it. He'd urged Will to give Hannibal a better chance and to put in more effort. The man wasn't jealous of Hannibal nor did he feel like competing for Wills' affections. His love for Will was certainly more pure than Hannibal's was even if he too was as tenacious as the doctor.
After dinner, for them and the dogs who got their own special Christmas meal courtesy of Will wanting to spoil them for good behavior, they retired for the night because they needed the sleep. Tomorrow they would be welcoming Chiyoh back to watch over the dogs for a few days, and then flying over the country to see the Verger family once again. He was excited, he realized, to see Alana and Margot again. And of course who could forget dear old Mason?
"I can't believe you don't think you need anything," Will said to Duncan when he came out of the bathroom, dressed in only a pair of black sweatpants he liked to wear to bed.
"I have many contacts all over the world," was Duncan's frank answer from where he lounged on Will's bed. Meaning he could get his hands on weapons - or anything that he needed really - faster than one would think.
"Big bad assassin. I get it."
The lights were extinguished moments later as Will and Hannibal retired to the sofa. Will was pressed up against Hannibal's side and it was a relief to the former doctor. Will initiating physical contact between them. He'd done so twice that day. It was a major improvement from him and it melted Hannibal's heart just a little more.
He couldn't resist the urge to play with Will's messy curls. He'd always wanted to and with Will practically laying on him, he had a chance without feeling like an invisible boundary was being crossed. Not that Hannibal ever cared much for people's boundaries, especially Will's, as he'd demonstrated on many occasions. He liked unnerving people almost as much as he liked drawing them in with his person suit.
Will squirmed a bit, his naked chest sliding across Hannibal's. His repressed sexual interest sprang to life instantly and he nearly moaned when Will's warm hand found his erection in his pajama bottoms and gave a curious rub.
"Would you mind?" Will asked quietly, face shifting into the crook of Hannibal's neck.
He managed to shake his head. He would not mind in the least if Will decided that he wanted to try something a bit more. He'd dreamed of things like this in the middle of teaching, in the middle of therapy sessions, even in the middle of cooking dinner. And here it was finally happening.
That exploring hand dipped below the waistband and warm fingers caressed a place he'd only imagined Will going near many times before. Suddenly the house was stifling with heat, and Hannibal wanted to pin Will down and thoroughly own him.
A huff of breath against his neck told him what Will thought of his growing arousal. His hand trailed down even further and wrapped around Hannibal's cock, giving the heated flesh a smooth, downward stroke. The lack of lubrication made the friction more intense and Hannibal couldn't help but squirm under Will's movements.
"Fuck," Will whispered into the crook of his neck. He pushed the blankets down, as well as Hannibal's pajamas enough to free him entirely, and settled himself between Hannibal's legs.
This was happening. It was something Hannibal had only imagined before, and didn't even dare hope for. He would have simply been happy to have Will all to himself. Could have lived the rest of their lives together without touching him in the sexual sense so long as Will had chosen him. But now there was no fear of that having to happen. Will's warm body was willingly laying between his thighs and his mouth was right there. Teasing. Almost touching.
"May I?" Will asked breathlessly.
"This far along and now you ask?" was Hannibal's reply.
He could just make out the eye-roll Will gave him before opening his mouth wide and sinking it down, over the foreskin-covered glans. His tongue poked and prodded the skin and laved at the tip, covering it in his saliva and massaging the skin lewdly.
Real life was much better than what his memory palace could dream up for him. Laying in this position with only the moonlight illuminating the room just the slightest, and watching Will's perfect mouth that was usually so vulgar and demanding, quietly working up and down Hannibal's cock, was beautiful.
Briefly, ever so briefly, he imagined pulling Will's head all the way down to choke him. Just for a second. Just to see what he would do in response. Did Will have a strong gag reflex? Did he even have a gag reflex?
That thought made him groan lowly, and in turn, that got a hum from Will. All around the tip of his cock. The vibrations were sudden and wonderful, and Will demonstrated alarming talent with his tongue as it caressed the foreskin and the tip of the glans, tracing the flesh gently but firmly, while Will's hands came up to massage Hannibal's hipbones.
The added pressure in a place that wasn't where Will's mouth was, sent a joint of pleasure up his spine and made him arch. His cock slipped even further inside Will's mouth, and Will gladly allowed him, shifting his head down even further. Hannibal spared a few seconds to marvel at the ease in which Will swallowed him down without hesitation. He took his time, the slide continuing on and on until Hannibal was nudging the back of his throat that convulsed just a little.
Will took a deep breath through his nose and then continued his descent, opening his throat up and forcing Hannibal to stifle the next groan with a hand. He'd never been one for being vocal during sex, but then again, this was his dear Will and of course Will would manage to drive him mad with want. His skills were far more developed than Hannibal would had expected.
The muscles of Will's throat fluttered around him, bringing to mind a vision of Will attempting to eat him. Probably not the most sane thought to have as someone who ate human flesh all the time and knew how sensitive the penis was and what amount of pressure it would take to bite one off, having done it himself once upon a time. But it was Will doing this to him, and in a way it was as if he was devouring Hannibal slowly, just taking him down his throat as far as he could.
He'd never expected to have a kink that involved his lover eating him alive, but here he was, lying supine on Will's bed, with Will between his legs and Will's mouth over his most sensitive organ.
And Will's thumbs massaged little circles into his hipbones still, keeping his attention divided between the different stimulation.
On a side note, Will's breath control was amazing. Hannibal had counted fifty-seven seconds since his cock was forced down Will's throat, and Will had merely held himself in place as his tongue moved just the slightest.
When he finally pulled back up, with was with a look of satisfaction on his face. "Like what you see, Dr. Lecter?" Unlike other times Will reverted to that form of address, this wasn't putting distance between them. This was teasing. Probably some kind of kink involving positions of authority if he knew Will well enough to guess.
Hannibal caressed Will's cheek, which was warm from exertion and concentration. "Shall I show you how much, naughty boy?"
Will's eyes dilated instantly, and that was all the confirmation he needed that Will liked this kind of thing in the bedroom.
"What do you have in mind?" was the next question, almost too quiet to place.
It took little effort to haul Will back up the length of his body and flip them over so Hannibal could be on top. "Just let me take care of you."
That got Will to take a deep breath in preparation. "I don't want to use lube or any barriers. Just raw me."
Fuck. Hannibal wasn't one for vulgarity or swearing because he tended to find it tasteless, but even he couldn't control himself with his filthy Will sounded with his demand.
Hannibal made quick work of removing Will's boxers, which allowed a toned leg to wrap around his waist to pull him in. Their cocks brushed, and Will arched up against him suggestively, a daring smirk on his face.
After many years, Hannibal had cultivated many talents that were useful to him in life. Sex was most definitely one of those talents, and demonstrating for Will all the knowledge he'd accumulated, was like a dream come true.
"Did you have fun?"
Will didn't even flush with embarrassment. He merely tilted his head up and said, "Yes."
Duncan smiled, glad he seemed a lot more upbeat now. "You're not the best at keeping quiet, dearest."
It was the first pet name Duncan had used for Will, having not felt comfortable enough to do it until now. And Will did seem very much like a dear, so it fit.
Will plastered himself to Duncan's side, staring up at him from below thick eyelashes. "I came hard imagining you both holding me down and taking me at the same time."
"Naughty boy. We're about to go and kill someone. There's no time for sex."
"But maybe afterward…"
He nodded. "Yes. Afterward indeed."
With the promise of future endeavors, Will went back to loading up the Mustang, trying valiantly to hide his small limp in the process. Lecter insisted on using the fancy car since he'd rented it and want to bring it back on time. They'd take it back to the dealership, take a cab to the airport, and head on over to the East Coast.
"So what dramatics have you got planned for this little jaunt of ours?" Will asked the cannibal as he handed Chiyoh a list of things to check off while watching the dogs. He was very particular about his canine companions and wanted them to have the best of the best. The woman gave a dutiful nod of the head and headed inside Will's cabin to start on the list.
"I always did love a good meal. That's how I surprised a couple in France when hunting for a new identity in Europe. Surprised the wife with a meal cooked out of her own husband," said Lecter, a find smile on his face. "I look good in leather as well."
Will's head snapped around. "You? Wearing leather willingly?"
"I happen to like quality clothing of all sorts, dear Will. I wore custom leather and rode a motorcycle around Paris for several days as I planned out my next move."
"You know how to ride a motorcycle? It's not too below your tastes?"
Lecter smirked. "There is much you still don't know about me, Will. Thankfully we have time to remedy that oversight."
Judging by the look of astonishment on Will's face, he was looking forward to finding out more. Even Duncan was very much interested in hearing more about Hannibal Lecter's various skills. He wouldn't have ever assumed the man knew how to maneuver a motorcycle, or even knew anything about them. That's what happened when people made assumptions.
"I'm suddenly very hot under the collar. This is not the time for it and it isn't fair."
Hannibal merely grinned the most carefree grin he'd given since his arrival. Will had the talent of being able to melt down a hardened killer's heart to find the person lingering beneath the ice. It was impressive. Hannibal looked much better when he wasn't a brooding mess either.
"Who do you know that just randomly stocks sniper rifles?" Will asked Duncan, unable to fully close his mouth due to shock.
"An acquaintance who owes me many favors," was the man's answer along with a small smirk. "You've been to the Verger Estate before. What would be the best place to snipe a person from?"
Hannibal answered, "The east side of the mansion. It's a large building with many arched, floor to ceiling windows and that side has the dining hall. I did a little exploring before taking dear Mason to Will's home the last time we met each other. Just in case I needed to know the layout of the house one day. The dining hall will be the main location of our little spectacle."
Will rolled his eyes. Yes, a whole room in the memory palace dedicated to the Verger Estate. Hannibal was so dramatic and yet it was that dramatic part of his personality that benefited them all so much.
And he just wouldn't be Hannibal without the drama.
A/N: Another is done!
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Chapter 12: Production
Summary:
Hannibal loves the drama.
Notes:
-This was actually kind of funny to write. I like Margot so much more than Alana IstG.
Chapter Text
A/N: Hello, people!
I don't own Hannibal.
I have no beta.
ENJOY!
CHECK ME OUT ON TUMBLR. HELLY-WATERMELONSMELLINFELLON.
When Alana awoke in the middle of the night, she was alarmed to find Hannibal Lecter seated in one of the plush chairs on the other side of Margot's bedroom. He was relaxed, reclined in the chair, bedecked in one of his usual suits with a glass of wine in hand, illuminated by the moon streaming in through the floor-to-ceiling window behind him. His expression was passive and bore a look of casual disinterest that she knew to be fake.
Her heart was in her throat. She remembered his words from his kitchen. She remembered the animalistic look on his blood-covered face. The anger. The chance she'd been given to walk away and never become a target of his for the sake of their past friendship. And she hadn't listened to him, too blinded, ironically, by her own grief to take the boon so generously offered considering his hobby and interests.
And now here he was in her new lover's bedroom, acting as if he belonged there. Like h'ed been invited even. He didn't have any weapons, but in all honesty, Hannibal wasn't the type of person who needed a weapon in order to be deadly. His hands were dangerous enough as they were and he'd been able to go up against Jack with a single kitchen knife.
"Hello, Alana," he said genially, his familiar accent taking her back to the kitchen.
Margot stirred from her sleep at the sound of his voice, and when she sat up, she looked their guest dead in the eye, not a hint of worry on her youthful face. "Dr. Lecter," she greeted, not looking in the least bit surprised to see him. Not even an ounce of fear in her features. She knew that Hannibal had no reason or desire to kill her, and was confident in her own safety. Unlike Alana.
Hannibal scented his wine before taking a sip. Always so culturally appropriate. In his own ways at least. "I know Mason has promised you a child, Margot. In order to keep you complacent. Caged. Controlled. You will be heartbroken to learn that the child is premature and as it hasn't received proper attention, it is too weak to last for much longer. The babe also isn't Verger in the slightest and wouldn't be able to accept anything upon Mason's death."
Margot's jaw tightened and her hands on the comforter trembled. Alana knew all about Mason Verger's actions. She knew all about what Margot had been through. They didn't keep secrets from one another. Not if they wanted to be together and have a relationship filled with respect and understanding.
Alana placed a hand over Margot's in hopes of calming her. "What do you want, Hannibal?" The tried to fake courage, and managed it for the most part.
He gazed not at them, but at the wine in his hand, watching as it swirled around under his delicate motions. "Did you know that in the right hands, a cattle prod can stimulate the prostate enough to milk it whether the owner is awake or not?"
Margot's breathing halted. Alana's was right behind hers.
"Isn't it so generous of Mason to volunteer his sperm for you and Alana to have your own child to love and to cherish?"
"Why are you being so helpful?" Alana demanded, still not trusting him.
Hannibal stood with all the grace she remembered him having, buttoning his suit coat as he did so. "I have done many things in my life. Many of which I do not regret in the slightest. However even I make mistakes, and I greatly admire Margot. As an apology for my actions I offer you this chance to have everything you want in life."
"But you promised Alana that she wouldn't escape you," said Margot clearly. As if they were discussing some business tactic and not Alana's potential murder.
A small smile. "Will is very adamant that Alana remains alive and carries the child for you. So long as she abandons this victim complex she's developed for herself, I will not touch your growing family." That smile turned mocking.
Alana wanted to say something snarky in return. Wanted to challenge him. But this wasn't necessarily about her. This was the chance of a lifetime for Margot. Something she deserved. And in the end, it would benefit Alana as well.
She and Margot shared a deep look of consideration, before Margot stiffened her upper lip and looked to Hannibal with firm resolve. "What do we do?"
His smile reminded Alana of the sea witch in The Little Mermaid. It felt as if they were signing away something important.
It was all a drama. Will's life felt much like some kind of soap opera right now. Something he never would have thought he'd be interested in, but living it was a bit different from watching it. Less corny too.
The plan was simple enough. Hannibal had somehow, very easily drugged Mason to be unresponsive. And then he brought Margot and Alana into the room so they could watch as he extracted enough sperm for multiple attempts at impregnation, in case the first failed somehow.
After that, Mason was clothed and set back into bed as if nothing happened. He would wake up as normal and never know that things were about to change in his life, and not for the betterment of himself.
Meanwhile, Will had been tasked with taking out the guards stationed inside the mansion and bringing all but one out to the pig pen for a quick clean up. The guards outside the building were on a rotating night watch and could be summoned via remote control attached to Mason's wrist at all times. He was very anal retentive about having protection around him at all times. Visions of Hannibal must haunt his every move if he was so scared of being attacked unawares. It made Will smile just thinking about it.
Hannibal's mind dreamed up the scenario of Mason awaking in the morning like he usually would, and being escorted to breakfast by Margot, which he demanded of her every morning to humiliate her and lord over her even more like the asshole that he was. And he would find his dining room commandeered by Hannibal and Will, already seated at the table filled with a lavish meal made out of that lone guard Will had been ordered to keep in the mansion.
Duncan was situated on the hill outside the eastern side of the mansion, a sniper rifle set up and ready for when Mason inevitably panicked and called in his extra guards. He would then carefully but skillfully take them all out one at a time, leaving Mason with no line of defence and forcing him to listen to everything Hannibal had to say. Hannibal always did love backing people up into corners.
At this, Hannibal would serve them all breakfast and explain how things would be handled from that moment onward. Make certain Mason was aware of the new turn his life was taking. That he was on board with it even.
And then of course, Hannibal had wanted to further rub in Mason's failures by rendering him incapable of caring for himself and needing Margot to take control of the Estate until he was better. And the thing was, he didn't need to harm Mason physically to get what he wanted.
Margot had already given up all the information she had. Mason's will was being controlled by his lawyer. Mason had passwords and pass-codes that were voice activated. Margot knew all the numbers and codes necessary. And Hannibal, like he had with Chilton when trying to get him blamed for the Ripper murders, mimicked Mason's voice to perfection, setting Margot up with what she'd always wanted while her brother had slept on, unaware of the changes around him. Directly putting her in charge of Mason's well being for the foreseeable future.
The changes would be in effect before Mason even awoke. His lawyer had been completely baffled but with Hannibal giving all the correctly answers in Mason's muffled and supposedly fucked up voice, nothing could be done.
Will felt damn near giddy. If this was what Hannibal felt like every time he planned on ruining someone's life, Will could understand why he did it so often. His plans were pretty good when they went as they were supposed to. And to see something so elaborate unfold exactly as he wanted had to give him a high like no other.
He was excited to watch Mason squirm under the onslaught of new information. He wanted to see blood covering the marble floors of the Verger Estate. Will was a bloodthirsty bastard, he'd come to realize. And he honestly didn't care anymore.
Hannibal smiled to himself as he placed the plates on the table. It had been a while since he'd been able to cook for so many people. And he took special enjoyment in the fact that there was a subtle threat for Alana and Margot to eat the food before them without complaint. He was being especially generous after all and it was only respectful in return, to accept his offered efforts.
This was a production. There was meant to be flare and drama. A healthy dose of fear would only add to the ambiance he was trying to establish. A place where he was primarily in control no matter what.
He ignored Will's excessive eye roll at his tacit pomp. This was fun and Will would not ruin this for him! Hannibal hadn't gotten to do anything like this in months and he longed for the drama!
Once everything was deemed perfect in terms of Hannibal's standards, he smiled at Margot and sent her a nod. Alana on the other hand, stiffly took a seat at the other end of the long table, refusing to even look in their direction. She was seated to the left of what was Mason's chosen place setting. That left Margot at his right hand. An imitation of a position of power in Mason's life, but was filled with only false platitudes.
Hannibal took his own seat at the other end of the table, with Will situated to his right. The difference being that Will was his equal and had equal amounts of control in any situation between them now. And Hannibal respected who Will was as a person and wanted him to have that power.
The vacant seat to his left was for Will's lover when he finally disposed of the remaining guards as planned. And Hannibal trusted the assassin to do his job well. One doesn't live that long in his line of work, without possessing some for of talent for killing. Will had faith in him, so Hannibal would as well. Besides, he'd been given no reason to not trust in his ability.
When Margot wheeled Mason into the room, the man noticed Hannibal easily, and fumbled for his remote and the obvious red button on it. It took no time at all for seven men, dressed in dark, heavily padded clothing and guns, to pop in from every angle.
He found himself curious to see just how fast Duncan Vizla worked in such a tense environment. The Black Kaiser was the world's greatest assassin and it was time for him to demonstrate why.
Seven targets. Extensive bulletproof protection. Basic military grade firearms though. Of decent make but nothing worth much money in the long run.
Duncan heaved the sniper rifle into his arms, and peered through the scope once more, getting a feel for the positions of the men. Two behind Mason Verger and his sister. She had on a bright yellow dress that stood out, allowing him to determine that she was not to be shot. Her partner was already seated along with Will and Hannibal.
Four other armed men stood on the other side of the room, ready to pull a bullet in Hannibal's head should he dare move incorrectly or even say the wrong thing.
The last was in front of one of the large windows, making him and easy target for any of them. Six bullets for the six posing immediate danger, and then a single bullet from his handgun. Duncan was a very talented shot from a great distance, even with a handgun. His rifle coudl only hold six bullets and the loading and unloading speed wasn't very useful for a sniper with limited time to get the job done.
Duncan took a deep breath and flexed his finger on the trigger. He'd mapped out the order in which he'd shoot them down seconds after they took their places. He just had to hope he drew the handgun fast enough for the last one.
"So kind of you to present yourselves!" said Mason, his mouth fucked up beyond hope and his bravado annoying as hell. "We've been waiting for you, Dr. Lecter. Waiting to teach you an important lesson, and I'm excited for Cordell to help me teach it to you."
Margot took her seat at the table, her jaw stiff with discomfort. Alana sent her a calming smile.
"You've saved me the trouble of having to pay anyone I hired to bring you down. Though between us I wasn't planning on paying them at all to begin with. I like my money to stay where it belongs, and bullets are cheap ways to get rid of loose ends."
Ah. Duncan would hate him if he knew about that. Duncan believed that workers should get paid what they were owed no matter the job they took up.
"You're at my mercy now, Dr. Lecter, Mr. Graham. I hope your little plan wasn't too disrupted."
Hannibal took up his glass of orange juice and gave Mason a mocking toast. "My plans are going just as expected, Mason."
It happened almost too quickly for Will to comprehend, though his mind did eventually catch up when it was all over.
The four men standing behind Hannibal dropped one at a time like dominoes, seconds apart from each other, followed by the ones behind Mason. And the last, who had managed to move maybe four feet from where he'd been standing by the open window, dropped as well.
Will whistled as he looked over the nearest body. Protective headgear. Kevlar vests. The weakest places were the neck area, and the space was limited enough as it was. Less than an inch of visible skin. Duncan managed to shoot seven different men, in different parts of the room, through the throat in rapid succession, in less than ten seconds. And all were choking on their own blood with no hope of living.
All the while, Hannibal sipped his orange juice as if nothing had happened and Mason wasn't watching them both with horror as the situation he was in finally dawned on him.
"Yes, my plans are going perfectly, Mason. Now do eat. It'd be ever so rude to ignore all the hard work I put in for this breakfast," said Hannibal, a serene smile filled with latent madness and charm on his face. "Cordell gave us much meat to use."
Margot and Alana began on their plates immediately, not even looking at the bodies littering the dining room floor nor the blood pooling beneath them. Will was right behind them, hungry as hell after skipping a Burger King under Hannibal's insistence because 'it was foul and not befitting someone such as will'. Rather Hannibal was just being a priss.
Duncan strode in through the still open window right across from Will, his trenchcoat flapping behind him. His rifle was put away once again, and in his other hand was a handgun. He looked like a badass with his hair pushed back and his eyepatch standing out strikingly against his skin.
A ways down the table, the two Vergers and Alana all choked in various levels the moment they laid eyes upon Duncan, who was dressed much like Hannibal, expect where Hannibal's suit was primarily white with brown stripes, Duncan's was the polar opposite. They looked like complimentary pieces in a set. Like bookends or something.
Will beamed. "This is Duncan. Our partner. He's very talented with firearms. And bladed weapons. And his hands." The subtle threat was there for all of them. He was just as dangerous as Hannibal and he shouldn't be fucked with or taken lightly if they valued their continued well being.
Duncan merely inclined his head, obviously seeing no reason for him to have to talk to anyone at present, and that was fine. He proceeded to eat the piece of human Hannibal had served him without even a blink. Will was certain there was a story behind such ease and he wanted to know it!
Hannibal was grinning, obviously pleased that the theater production he'd dreams up was going so smoothly.
"Now, Mason, I think it's time to introduce you to the new life you'll be living in."
Margot looked up at Will Graham. Since the last time she'd seen him, he was looking much better. Actually happy for one thing. And when his gaze traveled, it lingered equally over the twins. She didn't know if they were brothers, but it wouldn't shock her if they were. Too similar and yet also very different just from a glance at their exteriors.
And Will was obviously with both. She never would have pegged him as Bisexual but that just proved that you could never really predict someone just by their looks alone.
"Are you going back to Washington?" she asked him quietly as Hannibal and… Duncan gathered up the items they'd brought with them in preparation.
Will nodded. "A nice cabin out in the middle of nowhere. A nearby lake for fishing. Never-ending forest to explore. Freedom for the dogs. A lack of humans to have to deal with."
He sounded wistful. Pleased.
"And the sex must be fantastic with two possessive men like that on your ass all the time," she remarked casually.
Will's face immediately went pink at her words, but he didn't deny what she had to say. In fact, he sent her a suggestive brow wiggle in response.
"Now while I would prefer your brother live to see the fall of everything he holds dear, you can do with him, whatever you want. He's entirely at your mercy now."
Yes. She much liked that idea. Margot did want to strangle him. Drown him. Stab him. All these ideas she'd entertained many times in her life. And she had the opportunity to do all of them. Or she and Alana could manipulate his entire world and force him to experience his greatest fears.
The Vergers had connections. Hannibal had given them a list of things that could be used to keep someone unconscious for prolonged periods of time. With all this money at her disposal now, Margot could do a lot to her dear brother.
She gave Will a conspiring grin. "Thanks for this. He said you convinced him."
Will shrugged. "Even I have morals no matter how fucked up they've become."
A/N: Another is done!
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Chapter 13: Lovers
Summary:
The stuff. The kind of sexy stuff. The sexy stuff that is... sexy.
Notes:
-The beginnings of smut at the end!
-One more chapter to go! ^-^ Then I'll go back to working on that Hannibal/Twilight AU. I've got 10 chapters written for that already at 2,500 words each chapter! ^-^
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
A/N: Hello, people!
I don't own Hannibal.
I have no beta.
ENJOY!
CHECK ME OUT ON TUMBLR. HELLY-WATERMELONSMELLINFELLON.
A plane ride back to Washington was spent in relative ease. No one took note of Hannibal's presence. No one mistook Duncan for Hannibal in disguise. Somehow, they managed to get First Class tickets through Duncan's various connections on short notice, much to Will's annoyance.
There was no need to sit First Class at all, but then again, Duncan liked privacy and Hannibal was touchy around rude people. And cramped seats in Economy would be sure to make a lot of people's attitudes less pleasant to deal with. Also better food was served in First Class, and Hannibal could tolerate it at least a little bit. So for them it was better.
And neither would let Will sit Economy so here they all were with their own little designated areas for the length of the trip. All seven hours of non-stop flying. They couldn't even see each other.
It was hell. Will hadn't ever been too fond of flying and he liked it even less now. A good boat could do wonders.
Chiyoh was awaiting them upon their return, her rifle held calmly in her hands while she stood out in the snow. Her face was reserved as she watched them approach, and she only addressed Hannibal the moment he was officially outside and experiencing the fresh air alongside her.
"Five intruders came in the night yesterday," she told him firmly in a no-nonsense tone. "I left the remains of them in the snow, there," she said, gesturing toward a large pile of snow off to the left side of Will's cabin. "All pertinent information and items were removed and placed on the table inside. The dogs behaved quite well, if a little rambunctiously. No problems arose from their end."
He could see Will's pride upon hearing that. He trained his canines very well. Enough so that even Hannibal was fond of them. Especially Winston and how dedicated he was to Will.
"Well done," he told the woman. "Will you go home now?"
Chiyoh's head tilted fractionally to the side in consideration. "No. I will acquire the home across the lake. Your alais will officially reside there on paperwork, but I will inhabit the house instead to better protect you."
Hannibal quirked a brow at the declaration. "And where am I to live, dear Chiyoh?"
For a moment, her face fell into a calm smile. But only for a moment and then it was gone. "With your lovers."
She left him in the snow, making her way toward her own vehicle, leaving Hannibal to watch her departure, mind whirling with her words.
Duncan Vizla was not Hannibal's lover, even if he did find the man interesting to an extent and perhaps admired his skills now that he had been witness to the man's ability first hand. He hadn't even considered sleeping with the man though, since he'd been so focused on Will from the beginning.
Hannibal wasn't that kind of narcissist. He didn't find his own appearance sexually appealing? Did he?
A quick glance in Duncan's direction, showed the man lighting a cigarette expertly beneath his cupped hand, and taking a long drag. He looked serene in that moment. Unbothered by the world at large. He appeared to be simple of mind, yet was capable of keeping up with he and Will when they had their conversations. And he had many a profound thing to say whenever he chose to speak, using as little words as possible to convey his meaning as well.
His observational abilities were impressive as well.
When Hannibal took a moment to think about it, he could imagine the both of them slowly driving Will to insanity. It was compelling image to say the least. Like a mirror.
"If Uncle Jack comes knocking on your door, do you plan to follow him all the way back to Maryland?" Hannibal asked that evening at dinner. It was New Years Eve and there were still enough decent ingredients for a delicious meal.
Will sighed at being reminded of Jack's existence. "I don't want to."
"That wasn't an answer," Duncan pointed out.
"It wasn't," Hannibal agreed lightly. "You have come so far, Will. You understand yourself and those around you better than ever before. It would be a shame if Jack could continue to use the same guilt-tripping tactics on you to get your compliance. To drag you back into a life that doesn't help you feel better."
Will didn't feel the same about catching killers as he used to. He'd been a professor at the FBI Academy for a reason. He'd failed his psyche eval and had to do the next best thing. And now here he was, writing books on murderers and how to properly psychoanalyze people in order to determine what kind of danger they could be.
Books that would eventually be used by the FBI to teach their students how to capture serial killers. Will would still be helping, but he would no longer be putting himself in harm's way to do it. He was sick and tired of being dragged around the country just to find crazy people who would haunt him for weeks after he got into their heads. He'd been like that before Hannibal and the Encephalitis and he was still like that presently.
"I'm not going back there to help Jack with anything," he stated firmly. "I'm not doing extra work that I won't even be paid for. I received no compensation for helping them catch murderers. I got a commendation from the Board and that was it. The job he dragged me into was one I was refused because they said I wasn't mentally stable enough to handle it. I let him jeopardize the education of the students by pulling me away all the time and it never benefited me in any way. Not to mention that Kade Prurnell would lose her damn mind and I'm sick of seeing her face."
If he never saw it ever again it would only be too soon.
Hannibal seemed pleased to hear his words. "I'm happy to know that you've thought this through. Jack has the potential to be just as relentless as either of us, and sometimes is, just on the opposite end of the spectrum. He would see you sacrificed for the greater good and might shed a tear if you were lost in the process, but as shown by the situation with Miriam Lass and how he handled that one, he wouldn't stop after once again losing a recruit, and would just drag another unsuspecting soul into the danger."
He wasn't wrong. That was the kind of person Jack was. The good of the many outweighed the good of the few. That was how he could look at someone as obviously ill as Will Graham and still happily force him out into the field to do something that just made him even more ill. People like Jack Crawford annoyed the hell out of him. he was a lot like Hannibal and his intentions couldn't always be considered good either.
"I'm not liking the sound of this man," said Duncan, hand curling around his steak knife threateningly.
A look at Hannibal showed his mouth curling upward in a sly smirk. Will blinked between them, certain that he was missing something important. "What are you two getting at that I'm not grasping?"
Hannibal shrugged elegantly - how the hell he managed that without looking like a heathen was still unknown to this day - and said, "Just the idea of a bonding session, dear Will."
"As in you two taking Jack out completely?"
They said nothing but didn't look guilty for their thoughts.
Will sighed. "If you both do end up going after him, don't get caught and don't do it on this side of the country just to be safe."
"I never get caught," both men said firmly, though the look Will sent them both, had them looking at their plates to avoid his gaze. Like puppies who had just been caught in the wrong.
The fact that Will had fallen in love with these two idiots still baffled him to this day.
It was some time in mid-January, that Hannibal entered the kitchen of Duncan's cabin, holding up his precious tablet that he carried on him all the time. "Freddie Lounds had been naughty once again."
Will, who had been studying the Shogi board, groaned and looked up. "What the fuck is she doing now?"
"You're the one who chose not to kill her, good Will. You had the chance and didn't truly take it. You should have expected this," chided Hannibal with a smirk.
"Well why didn't you try to kill her if she's been so 'naughty'?"
"I was waiting in her apartment when I received a call that she'd supposedly gone missing in Wolf Trap Virginia. I had every plan to kill her and feed her to you. You were the one to interfere with that plan, dear Will."
That response made Will huff and turn back to the chess board. Basically, Will didn't get to complain about someone annoying him when he had the chance to silence her completely, and didn't take it. Sometimes it was in the face of the childish side of Will that Duncan found himself most enamored. His pout was adorable. Will had a hardened assassin of over three decades, thinking of another grown man as something adorable.
"We could always go and silence Ms. Lounds if you truly find her so annoying," Hannibal offered with an easy smile.
"What'd she even do this time?" Will asked as he reached for a piece, then seemed to hesitate and abort the plan he'd come up with. His eyes trailed back and forth, forming a new plan.
"She believes that you actually up and followed me across the ocean to join me on a murder honeymoon to officially ring in our new lives as Murder Husbands. She has even began selling merchandise with our faces and names and has a poll on the website about where we must be and what we're getting up to."
Even Duncan froze at the implications of that. It was an great invasion of privacy to do such a thing and there were various laws being broken. And because this woman knew that Will didn't like her, he wouldn't be the sort to check up on her and find out what she was up to. But Hannibal was obviously a regular reader of her blog and it was foolish to think a serial killer wouldn't frequently check up on his own reputation in the area he'd reigned over for so long.
She was practically asking to be murdered, and Duncan couldn't really form a reason for why she shouldn't be taken out. She was threatening his Will's happiness. Making him stiff in the shoulders and annoyed when he was supposed to be tranquil up on their mountain.
"Freddie does a really good job at pissing off men who think about killing for a living," Will remarked as he finally moved a piece, giving Duncan a stressful challenge to work through.
Hannibal joined them at the table, a perfectly manicured fingernail flicking back and forth over the screen of his tablet. "I remember the first time you said that. A beautiful and daring revelation of how dark your thoughts truly ran on a normal basis. It was the first time I truly entertained the idea of bending you over a surface and thoroughly rewarding you."
Both Will and Duncan stared at him in shock. Hannibal Lecter was often vulgar or suggestive. He maintained a particular attitude even in the privacy of the mountain air where there was next to no one around for miles and no reason for him to be so uptight all the time.
The other man didn't even grace them with his full attention as his eyes flicked back and forth over the article he was reading. There was a small smirk spreading across his lips though. He knew what he was doing and it was an admirable attempt to distract Will, who looked a cross between needy and frustrated.
He hated leaving either a game of chess or shogi unfinished. And here were the suggestive words of his lover pounding against the walls of his skull, demanding more of his attention.
"You can't fucking do that, Hannibal. I'm in the middle of something important and it's cruel of you to do things you know I'll find attractive, just to get my attention for yourself."
"Who said it was only for myself and not anyone else?" was Hannibal's 'innocent' response.
Silence…
It was the first time the man had suggested an actual threesome between them. The idea of course had been there and suggested by a his helper Chiyoh as well as Will's friend Margot, and even Will himself on occasion, but none of them had truly broached the subject before.
Will was on his feet in seconds, the shogi board left for later as he grabbed each of their hands and proceeded to tug them toward Duncan's bedroom. "I've been dreaming of this for the past week and nothing is getting in the way of it. I don't care what important things we have to see to or whatever, you are going to fuck me and I'm going to love it."
So it turned out that threesomes actually required a considerable amount of preparation for all involved.
Will hadn't been thinking all that clearly at first, but he unfortunately had to give in to Hannibal's insistence on them all freshening up, plus gathering several materials needed.
Lube, condoms, latex gloves, and a lot of time to thoroughly prepare Will for the sex. They couldn't just get into it. Hannibal insisted taking his time to open Will up and Duncan had echoed his words with hums of agreement as his hands moved to carefully turn Will's body to goo.
While Hannibal's hands worked to spread him open and prepare him, Duncan's hands spread out some lotion and massaged the muscles of his upper back, kneading away the tension and leaving Will a boneless mess on the bed.
Somewhere in the back of his mind he imagined that he should be helping out a bit, but since they both insisted upon helping him out first, there was nothing wrong in enjoying himself for the time being.
And they had a whole night ahead of them really. Will could return the favor later on once he was done being pampered.
And yes, it was happening! He'd imagined scenarios where one had him from behind and the other thoroughly owned his throat, and it was about to happen. Mostly like in the positions they were currently in too. And maybe another where if Will was stretched well enough, he'd handle both at the same time. He'd obviously never done it before but he'd dreamed. He'd seen porn before. He knew enough.
Threesomes had never been appealing in porn before, and yet with Hannibal and Duncan, he was ready to cant his hips and do a little dance if it managed to get him what he wanted. Their equally dilated gazes and hot hands running over his body were enough to leave him burning and parched.
Somewhere in the middle of his appreciation, Hannibal had gotten up the courage to shove his tongue very far inside Will's ass, making him moan and shift. Or rather he tried to, but Hannibal had to be a tease and hold his hips down so he couldn't get any of that delicious relief against the bed covers. His cock was throbbing and was being refused any relief.
Looking up at Duncan, who was leaning over his head to rub at his back, Will's eyes made contact with his very much aroused cock, which was swelling with his desire. He and Will were the same length and seven inches was very nice. Above average but not too much to handle.
Deciding he wanted at least something now instead of having to wait, he shifted enough to reach out and yank at Duncan's hips until he was close enough for Will to swallow down. The position wasn't the best considering he was laying flat against the bed, but having Duncan all the way inside was just so much nicer.
He might have formed a bit of an oral fixation in the last couple of months to be honest. There was just something about a blowjob that was infinitely more appealing to him and it usually involved the look on Duncan's, and now Hannibal's, faces. Knowing he was the one to bring them to that point where control was lacking. It was hot to see men usually so composed, losing their shit and even swearing at him while he toyed with them.
A moan around the length in his mouth got him a deep thrust from Duncan, who moaned in return. Being able to do sexual things again had to be a relief for the man. His injuries had been deemed healed enough and now he could pin Will's head down and skullfuck him like he had a month ago. And Will would be forced to lay there and take it, swallowing down everything Duncan had to offer.
The thought of Hannibal getting a chance to do the same made him squirm again, bringing his attention back to the fact that there was a tongue deep inside him and wiggling around and around as Hannibal took his time in spreading Will apart. It was a shame they didn't have any toys. A dildo or a vibrator would have probably seen this time shortened considerably. Then again, Hannibal was brilliant with his tongue.
Duncan's hips took up a steady rhythm and Will encouraged him him by trying and failing to pull him even closer. All the while, Duncan's hands never stopped working over Will's back equally making him tensed and relaxed at the same time. The devil. The sensual, too dangerous to Will's own good, devil.
The sex was going to be fantastic.
A/N: Another is done!
How was it? Let me know!
Check out my other Hannigram fics!
See ya! :D
CHECK ME OUT ON TUMBLR. HELLY-WATERMELONSMELLINFELLON.
Notes:
-Remember, people, safe sex is sexy.
Chapter 14: Bodies
Summary:
A fun conclusion!
Notes:
-SEXXX and domesticity.
_Thanks for reading! ^-^
Chapter Text
A/N: Hello, people!
I don't own Hannibal.
I have no beta.
ENJOY!
CHECK ME OUT ON TUMBLR. HELLY-WATERMELONSMELLINFELLON.
Hannibal had never participated in anything more than a sexual relationship between a couple. The idea of adding more people to the mix hadn't ever crossed his mind in regards to his personal relationships. And yet there was a slight increase in his heart rate when he watched Will's mouth get filled with his unrelated twin's cock. And the sounds Will made from the experience made Hannibal's breathing quicken. Made him want to hasten things along, but he also wanted Will to only feel good, and that meant taking their time to get him ready.
Being a responsible lover was very important in any relationship. Especially when the other(s) in the relationship were incapable of rational thinking. So it would fall on Hannibal to make the right decisions for once.
He twisted his tongue in a different direction, making Will groan and shift under his hold. Hannibal was generous enough to allow him to move just a bit, grinding against the bedding. To alleviate some of the rising need in his body if only a little.
Pulling away, he sent Duncan a telling look, which had the man pulling away from Will entirely, much to Will's disappointment. "Noooo."
Hannibal shushed him gently, running a calming hand down Will's spine. "We need to change positions," Hannibal told him. The identical men rolled Will into his back and carefully switched his position so he could see the both of them more clearly. His face was flushed and his lips were swollen. "Who would you prefer to have first?"
A groan was Will's response.
Hannibal reached up to tap at his flushed cheek. "An answer, Will. We need an answer before we go any further here."
A deep breath and Will wiggle his hips to shift himself into a better position. "Both."
Both Hannibal and Duncan stared at one another, a silent question passing between them on how they'd do this. Eventually, Duncan coaxed Will off his back and into a seated position. With a little maneuvering, he was placed in Duncan's lap, head falling to rest on the assassin's shoulder, unruly curls falling over his face attractively as a single eye stared Hannibal down.
It was a lewd position. Hannibal had never seen Will look so delectable before. Not even when he'd imagined all the ways he could consume Will. Nothing his mind had dreamed up would compare to this moment. The real flush of Will's cheeks and the hazy look in his eyes would be Hannibal's undoing if he didn't get a hold of himself and calm down soon.
Will was lifted slightly, knees placed on either side of Duncan's hips as he was carefully pulled onto Duncan's cock. When he tried to hasten the process, Duncan tutted in his ear, causing him to moan and squirm again. "I want it now," he whimpered, fluttering his lashes at Hannibal as if that would work.
And maybe in a situation where they didn't need to be so gentle with Will, it would have worked.
Instead, Duncan took his time, spearing Will slowly but surely on his cock until he was all the way down, and the flush on Will's face creeped down his neck and across his shoulders. The shade of pink was a very fetching color on him.
When Will was finally in position, Duncan wrapped a strong arm around his and leaned back into the bedding until they were laying down, Will directly on top of him, preparing him for a position they hadn't experienced before. This gave Hannibal the chance to get between Will's legs and begin the process of stretching him even further.
Will had never participated in double penetration before. It was obvious in the fact that he allowed his lovers to make the decisions at the moment. Hannibal wanted to make it good.
More lubricant to ease the way, with Duncan thrusting slowly and steadily into Will. His self-control was admirable, able to keep himself invested enough to keep Will occupied, but not too much where he ended the experienced before it could truly begin.
He was sucking in two fingers already. Logically Hannibal knew why, but the thought of Will being so needy for Hannibal that his body was showing it, was much more appealing.
Sweet words were murmured in Will's ear, Duncan petting his hair softly as his hips thrust up and down slowly. And poor Will was left to take it, being cherished like he should have always been.
Hannibal smirked when he finally deemed Will ready, and lined himself up, taking his time, using the sounds Will made to gauge whether or not to push or wait.
"Fuck! Just get inside me already! Pain be damned!"
For a moment there was just a look between Hannibal and Duncan, both determining if Will really could handle it. After what felt like forever, Hannibal fell forward over Will's back and pushed all the way in, just as his lover had wanted, making both men below him groan under the added weight.
It was hot and smooth, and Will clenched around them both, drawing a strangled hiss from Hannibal.
"Yessss! Fuck me!"
And of course they could only do as he wished.
"Freddie Lounds was found dead in a hotel room in Triple Oak Montana," Hannibal announced when he walked into the room that morning, his tablet in hand.
Will froze in place and immediately looked between him and Duncan, who made absolutely no move to avoid eye contact. "Which one of you was it?"
Hannibal shook his head. "I don't use guns. I find them lacking in intimacy as we've both been through my reasoning for that. I actually never learned how to use one."
Will's gaze turned solely on Duncan, who did in no way feel guilty for what had happened. "I spotted her following me around. The red hair stood out a little too much and made her an easy target, and it was easy to lose her and tail her in return. I followed her back to her hotel room, found her possessions, and disposed of her gathered evidence."
He sent Hannibal a look. "She thought I was Hannibal the Cannibal in disguise and had already begun writing a piece on how convenient it was for me to be hiding out less than twenty miles from Will's new bank."
Of course Hannibal didn't seem in any way guilty. "Ms. Lounds has always been a rude one. She wire-tapped a conversation between Will and I during the beginning of our friendship, and I took her purse and recording and deleted the evidence entirely."
"What?" Will demanded, looking baffled.
"Yes. That time she was outside my office was it. I knew who she was obviously as a frequent reader of her blog. She was scared of me even then. On some level I'm certain she believed me to have a darker nature, because she is in fact, not a vegetarian, but refused to eat anything I cooked if it had meat in it."
A sigh. "At least she's dead now. She can no longer bother me."
"This might make Uncle jack want to pay you a visit though," Hannibal pointed out.
Will looked to Duncan. "How did you set up the crime scene?"
"Like a robbery," he said with a shrug. "Turned over the room, took everything of value, including her jewelry and shoes. The car was a rental so I left that, but did take everything out of it. Anything potentially dangerous was thoroughly destroyed and then left in the burn barrel the other night."
So that was why he randomly decided to start a fire outside the other day. Will hadn't seen the point of it and Duncan hadn't seen the need to explain himself either.
"If Jack comes around sniffing, I can gladly say that there is nothing strange going on up here for him to find."
They'd been good. No murders in the last month. Any scents would be gone by now when there were so many dogs running around and scent marking their territory. Not to mention sleet and snow coming down now and then.
"Everyone remain on your best behavior for the next week or so. We'll get through this."
To: Grahamcracker.**********
From: BloomingMinds.***********
I thought you would be interested to learn that Jack has found himself a new pony
to make use of. And of course I do not support this decision at all, but when's Jack
ever actually listened to my input and cared what another professional has to say
if it doesn't align with his interests?
The new one is not as talented as you or Miriam Lass, but she has got an insightful
mind and that seems to be all Jack cares about. Her name is Clarice Starling and
I truly worry about what she's going to end up dragged into if Jack doesn't lay off.
She's still attending the Academy and has other things to focus on at present.
At least you'll be glad to know that the chances of Jack coming and bothering you
to help him catch serial killers, is very low now. I just wish that another promising,
young mind wasn't being thrown into the paths of dangerous people all to satisfy
Jack's lack of skill in profiling and locating serial killers. You would think the Head
of the BAU wouldn't need to bring in 'Special Agents' all the damn time, and yet it
seems to be the one thing Jack is known for the most in the FBI.
There has been some talk of me taking over the Baltimore State Hospital For the
Criminally Insane. If it indeed ends up happening, I will do better by the patients.
Unlike Fredrick, I'm already a well-respected person in the psychiatric community
and don't need to cling to the notion of fame. I'll do my best to help the patients
at the hospital if I do indeed get the job.
Hoping things are going well for you over in Washington,
Alana.
P.S. Margot says hello and wanted me to tell you that I'm one month along. The
gender is an uncertain thing right now but baby names are already being chosen.
Got any suggestions?
"Hannibal, why is there a dead body in the freezer in my shed?"
Said cannibal, who was busy preparing something for dinner in Will's kitchen, froze in place. "I needed a place for it to rest until I have the time to get to it."
"You literally have a house of your own across the lake that you can use for your nefarious purposes, Hannibal."
The grown man pouted. "The ice box is very small and there isn't a shed over there either."
"Get one built then. I don't want dead bodies being kept next to the place I'll be stocking my fish! Hell, you even had a different fridge for the human meat back in Baltimore."
A snort drew Will's attention to Duncan, who was seated at the table with a chilled beer in hand and his chosen cigarette at the ready for when he finally decided to go outside and smoke it. He looked amused at their banter. "I don't want to hear a thing from you over this. He's not putting shit in your freezer."
Duncan shrugged. "I wouldn't really care."
Hannibal's pointed look conveyed his thoughts on Will supposedly being 'unfair' which was totally not the case since he had a very valid reason to not want dead bodies taking up the space he needed for his seafood collection. He could get more than fish up here!
"You don't have a fancy murder basement up here, Hannibal, and we are not turning into some kind of filthy, horror movie set where no one knows how to clean a damn thing and blood drips down the damn walls on a daily basis."
"I would never allow it to get that bad, Will. I do value cleanliness after all."
"You better find a better solution to this! I wouldn't care if you were doing it in your own house but you're doing it in mine and that's not okay. This is not a murder cabin. This is not a murder kitchen."
"Technically you have killed a few people in here before though," Duncan pointed. "So it is a murder cabin in a sense."
"Not helping!"
He shrugged again and took another drink from his beer.
Hannibal was still pouting at Will, something that he never would have done back in Baltimore, but because he'd loosened up the ol' anal sphincters a lot in the past few months - for many reasons that didn't need to be detailed at present - he'd been more willing to express himself because he felt comfortable enough to do so.
And Will was almost distracted from his ire by it, because it was kind of cute in its own way.
But then he realized what Hannibal had been trying to do and the urge to smile was squashed.
"Find a way to fix this shit or I'll make you sleep across the lake and Chiyoh can stay here. She isn't a prissy bitch."
The pouting took on a petulant angle now and if Hannibal was any less of a man he might have stomped his foot. Thankfully he had enough self-control not to do that. It wouldn't have gotten him any further in Will's favor anyway.
"I'll think of something, dear Will."
"That's what I thought you'd say. Glad we're on the same page, Hanners."
"Hanners?" the man demanded, looking mortified at the name Will had so generously bestowed upon him.
"Yes. It's what I call you when I'm drunk and it just feels right, doesn't it?"
The warning in Will's tone was enough to tell him to just accept it and not fight the inevitable. Hannibal then gestured to Duncan with the soup ladle he was using and asked, "Does he at least get an embarrassing nickname as well?"
Will grinned. "Of course. Duncan's my not so little Kaiser Roll."
The assassin preened, accepting his new name easily, once again proving how different he was to Hannibal, who looked put out even more than before.
It was nice to know that he had the power to annoy Hannibal to the ends of the earth and get away with it. Anyone else would have been eviscerated if they dared, and it was nice to know Will could essentially do whatever he wanted and Hannibal would just take it. Partly because he was a romantic sap and partly because he knew there was no point in arguing.
"The future is looking up for us."
Hannibal living right under the FBI's nose and Jack would never find out. It was the best cover he could ever ask for. No way would he jeopardize it all now just because he was a drama queen. He'd already been given the rules he was supposed to adhere to and had been willing to follow along as Will demanded.
No murder on the mountain unless someone came after them first. All murders had to be handled outside of Washington, Idaho, and Montana entirely, just to be safe. After that, Hannibal could go crazy if he really needed to kill someone that badly.
Meanwhile, Will and Duncan would spend their days playing with the dogs, hunting, fishing, or playing board games while Hannibal did his Hannibal things. Visiting the towns if they needed to.
It was a nice plan. Will could spend the next forty years doing the exact same things without a problem. And best of all, no malicious manipulations from Hannibal's side to ruin anything.
Sparing a fond smile for his boys, Will planted himself at his table and went about setting up the Parcheesi board. "It's so nice out today."
His lovers hummed in agreement, and the day continued on as it should.
And yes, Hannibal moved the dead body.
A/N: Another is done!
How was it? Let me know!
Check out my other Hannigram fics!
See ya! :D
CHECK ME OUT ON TUMBLR. HELLY-WATERMELONSMELLINFELLON.
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