Chapter Text
Will's dad used to joke that he was clairvoyant.
It's not that surprising, given the proper context. Growing up in the South imbues you with a contradictory blend of Evangelical ideals and passed down superstition that makes people see mysticism everywhere they look. Which makes it sound very romantic, but really all it amounts to is a childhood of backwards beliefs and an adulthood of unshakable habits. Does Will know that keeping a cup filled with loose change near his front door has no bearing whatsoever on his financial success? Yes, of course he knows that. The cup is there, though, and at least one penny stays in it at all times, even when he takes its contents down to the nearest Coinstar.
But his old man said that he was psychic based on something much simpler than that. No, the reason he felt so sure about it was that Will always seemed to know when something bad was about to happen.
It had more to do with his Empathy Disorder than it ever did with clairvoyance, but he wouldn't understand that for years to come. Long enough for part of him to belief that it really was his sixth sense telling him when two people were about to start fighting, or when someone had arrived with bad news. The tipping point for his father had been when Will was eight years old. They were waiting in line at the supermarket, and Will had tugged on his dad's shirt sleeve. He pointed at the man walking through the door, and before his dad could remind him for the millionth time that pointing and staring wasn't polite, Will chirped 'That man has a gun, daddy.'
Will's dad had shushed him, but he also led Will out of the store as fast as he could. The next day, it was in the newspaper that the shop had been robbed at gunpoint.
Will knows when something bad is about to happen. He can feel it like an odd twitch at the top of his spine. He felt it before he got stabbed, back when he was a cop. He felt it as he approached Garret Jacob Hobbs' house.
He feels it again, now, knocking on Hannibal's front door.
Will tries to keep himself from catastrophizing, but yes, there it is. Right at the base of his neck. A twitch. His head jerks to the side once, twice. Maybe it's nothing. Maybe it's something small. Something easy. Yes. Hannibal is about to open the door and say something like 'I'm terribly sorry, darling, but I'm afraid our reservation for tonight fell through.' And Will is going to feign disappointment and suggest that they stay in for the evening, and everything will turn out fine.
Hannibal smiles at him when he opens the door, and Will breathes a sigh of cautious relief. He's fine. He's better than fine, actually— he looks almost unfairly handsome. The cut of that dark blue suit accentuates his broad, commanding frame, makes Will feel their difference in size and build even more keenly. He swallows. They've been dating for nearly six months, now, but Will still can't get over how heavily he lucked out.
"Hello, love."
"Hey," Will says, his eyes narrowing as he glances restlessly over Hannibal's person. "Is everything okay?"
Hannibal chuckles warmly when Will lifts himself on his toes to peer over the Alpha's shoulder into the foyer. "Why wouldn't it be?"
Will falters. "I... I don't know, I just—" he shrugs weakly. "Had a hunch, I guess. Maybe it was just a false alarm."
It's odd, because his hunches are never wrong.
Hannibal eases his looming dread significantly when he reaches out to gently cup Will's jaw, angling his face to tilt upwards. "You worry too much, Will," he says, leaning close.
Will huffs, lashes fluttering shut obediently. "Maybe you should teach me to relax," he murmurs in response, lips just brushing Hannibal's, and then he closes the minimal space between them.
Hannibal hums appreciatively into their kiss, large hands finding his shoulders before making their way gradually down. He caresses the curve of Will's spine, the small of his back. Hannibal's touch stays politely above his hips, thought Will can almost taste his desire to slip a hand into Will's trousers.
He nips playfully at Hannibal's lower lip, smiling wickedly when they part. Without another thought, Will nuzzles his neck. He hums his satisfaction, mouth suddenly watering. "Mm. You... you smell, really good today, darlin'."
It's true. Hannibal always smells good to Will, but today it's so much more intense than usual. Headier, hotter. Like himself, but more. He can feel his cock start to fill as he breathes it in, pressed eagerly to Hannibal's body and likely wrinkling his nicely pressed suit.
Hannibal doesn't seem to mind it, though. His grip on Will's waist tightens, tugging him insistently backwards towards the foyer. "I think you should come inside," Hannibal says, and Will nods.
"Yeah, definitely," He breathes, nearly falling over himself in his haste to follow his Alpha. God, Hannibal's house reeks of him. Will feels how he did when he first met Hannibal, needy and desperate to touch. Is Will's Heat coming early? Why are Hannibal's pheromones so strong today? Every breath is flooding his mind with Alpha, Alpha, Alpha.
Hannibal is heading toward the kitchen, rather than the stairs, and Will nearly growls. "Oh, no you don't," he warns, striding into the kitchen after him. "I'm dragging your ass straight up to your bedroom, Hannibal. Forget dinner, the only thing I want inside me tonight is your—"
He chokes on the last word when he finally enters the room. There in the kitchen, leaning on the island, is a man. A man who looks very, very similar to Hannibal.
"Don't mind me, gorgeous," the man teases, and his voice is like Hannibal's but not in a way that makes Will suppress a shiver. It's deep and accented, like Hannibal's, but it's rougher. Looser, somehow. Like the words are just falling out, and landing however gravity wants. "Go on, what were you sayin'?"
Every thought in Will's head dies in a second. He blinks, trying to find his footing. He takes a breath and realizes that this is why the house smells so strong. It wasn't just Hannibal that Will was scenting, but Hannibal and another Alpha. One whose scent doesn't seem to clash or overpower Hannibal's, rather they both amplify one other and leave Will fucking breathless. "I..."
A firm, familiar hand on his shoulder brings Will careening back to the ground. His face burns, realizing the first impression he's made. Realizing that he was just drooling over the scent of someone other than Hannibal, sent into a sex-crazed frenzy over it like a teenager scenting pheromones for the first time.
"Will, I'd like you to meet my brother, Nigel."
He swallows. Brother. Of course. Obviously.
Nigel's lips stretch into a smirk, his eyes moving up and down Will's body like he has all the time in the world. "Heard a lot about you," Nigel says, and the way he says it tells Will that he is living up to whatever expectations he had.
"Oh," Will says, pinned in place. Nigel wears his hair longer than Hannibal's. It's lighter, too. He's taller than his brother. Bigger, at least physically. Hannibal has a way of filling every room he's in.
Nigel's eyes narrow with amusement. He thinks Will is funny. Will isn't trying to be funny.
He shakes his head, pushing the guilty stupor from his skull by sheer force. "I’m afraid I can't say the same," he says, voice adopting a fresh edge. "Hannibal never mentioned having a brother."
As he speaks, he twists to cast a glare up at Hannibal. It seems like a suspicious detail to leave out. Contradictory, since Hannibal has said many times that he has no family left to speak of.
Nigel doesn't seem surprised. "I've been out of touch for a while," he replies smoothly. "Haven't been around for a decade or so."
Will tilts his head. There's something... off, about this. About Nigel. "And now you're back?"
The Alpha shrugs. "I needed somewhere to crash." He flashes a grin at Hannibal. "What else is family for, right?"
-
Poor Will's looking between the two brothers like he still can't get his head around the concept. Han's not giving him the satisfaction of an explanation, either. Just standing there, fiddling with his cufflinks. Of course. It's always a fucking game to him, even right now.
"If you'll excuse me," Hannibal says, as if it's only just occurring to him, "I'm afraid I need to make a quick call before we leave."
Nigel almost laughs. Is it that obvious to Will, he wonders. Does he notice the little twitch of Han's upper lip that indicates he’s lying through his teeth right now?
Will opens his mouth, floundering while Hannibal glides smoothly from the room. Sly bastard, he's left the two of them alone together on purpose. Will huffs, glaring at the scuffed toe of his boot like if he pouts at it hard enough it might shine again. Nigel almost believes he could— with those full, frowning lips and those stormy blue eyes.
"You know," Nigel says, and Will doesn't give him the luxury of eye contact. Just glances up at his mouth under thick doe lashes. Christ. "Han has a tendency to oversell shit. Always has."
There's a little crease forming between his brows, now. He tilts his head, and those bouncy brown curls shift with the motion.
Nigel continues, slowly stepping closer to the Omega as he speaks. He sees the tension in Will's shoulders, the telltale sign that he wants to step backwards for every advancement Nigel takes. He holds his ground, though. Not bad.
"I think it's just that flowery bullshit he's always spouting, at the end of the day. Fucker's always been the type to give you an honest-to-god lecture about some fancy obscure wine he's found, and then when he actually gets around to letting you take a sip of it, it tastes the same as the shit at the corner store."
Will snorts, and his posture relaxes a little. "Yeah," he mumbles, shifting his weight a bit awkwardly. "I don't know what he sees in some of that stuff."
Nigel stills when he's within arm's reach of him. He shoves his hands into his pockets. "I'll give him this, though," he says smoothly, making a point out of looking Will up and down. "He wasn't just blowing smoke up my ass when he told me about you."
He shows his teeth when Will's cheeks flush at the comment. "What did he say about me, exactly?" Will asks, trying hard to sound less interested than he is.
Nigel chuckles, licking his lips. Will watches the motion, then returns his attention to the ground with an even deeper glare than before. Annoyed.
"Well, he said that you were fucking stunning, for starters."
Now, at last, Will takes an abrupt step backwards. "Are you... making a pass at me?" he asks, outraged. "Seriously?"
"Relax, doll, it's just a compliment."
"Well, I'd appreciate it if you kept your compliments to yourself," Will bites, but he's even rosier than before.
Nigel pulls his hands from his pockets, holding them palms-out in surrender as he takes a mirroring step back. "Of course, my apologies."
"Thank you."
"Reckon you'd prefer it if I didn't say you smell fucking heavenly, either."
Will finally looks him in the eyes for that one, big and blue and full of fire. He opens his mouth, and Nigel can feel the cut of whatever blade he's about to wield before Will even gets a chance to draw it.
And then, just as smoothly and swiftly as he left, Han is back. He ducks down to kiss Will's scorched cheek, and the Omega's pretty lips seal closed again.
"My apologies for the delay, love," Hannibal coos, and Nigel smirks. Never thought he'd see the day that his older brother would turn so soft. But if it was gonna be for someone, well, looking at this bristling beauty in the dark grey suit, looking good enough to swallow whole—
It makes sense.
Will just sighs, shoulders sagging like the weight of their combined attentions is liable to crush him. "It’s fine," he mutters, "Let's just go, yeah? I'm hungry."
Hannibal smiles, kissing him again. Pretending he can't tell that anything is off. It's a pointless act, since Nigel's known Will for all of five minutes and can already tell that he's too smart for this trick. Still, it's a nice touch. "Alright," he says, straightening his stance. "Are you ready, Nigel?"
"Just let me grab my wallet."
"Are you offering to pay, for once?"
Nigel scoffs, moving to snatch his worn leather wallet from the counter. "Hell no, Doctor Lecter, I fully intend to mooch off of you. But what if I need my ID? They might card me."
When he turns back, Hannibal is giving him a bemused look, one brow cocked. When they make eye contact, both brothers chuckle.
Will looks horrified.
"Wait, he's coming with us?" he asks, looking up at Han like he's selling Will up the river.
Hannibal shrugs, nearly innocent. "I'd hoped he could join us, yes. Unless that's a problem for you."
Will looks over at Nigel, sizing him up. Looks back at Han. When he speaks, it's hushed, nearly bashful.
"I just thought this was more of a... date, you know?"
Nigel grins, clapping Hannibal on the shoulder. "Well, just think of me as Han's chaperone, then. Making sure you two don't get into too much trouble."
He's half‐expecting Will to respond with another biting remark. Or just to fucking bite him. Instead, he fixes Nigel with another hard stare, and sighs through his nose.
"Alright. Yeah, I guess that's fine."
-
Hannibal's car, Will thinks, is not dissimilar from his own personal hell.
The scent is maddening. He's about fifteen heavy, panting seconds away from rolling down his window and sticking his head like a dog, just to clear his thoughts. He can't, though. Can't give Nigel the satisfaction.
Fucking stunning, he said. Called him 'Angel' and 'Gorgeous' and 'Doll'. Like Will was supposed to fall at his feet and present for him just because an Alpha gave him a few half-assed compliments. Will finds himself resenting his senses. It's his relationship with Hannibal, that's all. He repeats this fact to himself, echoing in his head like a mantra. It's just that Nigel smells like Hannibal, and Will is picking up those top notes of his boyfriend on the other Alpha, and it's making his stupid Omega brain respond to Nigel.
But the smart part of Will— the reasonable, sound-minded, not weak part of him— is not, in any way, shape, or form, impressed by Nigel. He's not interested in the way he takes up as much space as possible, spreading his legs wide across the back seat. Not charmed by the ugly tattoos dotting his skin. And definitely, definitely not impressed by the way he's been shamelessly checking Will out for the entire ride. He's practically undressing Will with his eyes, leering at the unmarked skin of his throat like we wants to sink his teeth into it and hold him down.
He's never felt more betrayed by his own biology than he does right now. It's unnerving. And entirely inappropriate. Not just because Will is dating Nigel's brother, either.
Nigel has three tattoos. Some fragments on his fingers that Will can't quite parse, and two on his neck. One of them appears to be a cowgirl, or maybe a stripper? It doesn't really matter, and Will doesn't actually care to ask. The other, though. A small cluster of round red flowers, plastered over his scent gland.
Will narrows his eyes, looking closer. There, just beneath those poorly shaded petals, is a faded scar. A Mating Mark. He inhales, scenting the air, and yes— beneath the mingling haze of Alpha, is the faint scent of Omega. Nigel's mate, faint, like he hasn't been near them in a long while.
Nigel glances playfully at him from the corner of his eye, looking annoyingly pleased.
"Sampling the offerings, doll?"
Will blinks, frowning at him. "What?"
One of his fangs peeks out beneath his upper lip. "You're scenting me."
Will's ears burn. He swears he hears Hannibal laugh softly from the front seat. "I was not," he insists.
Nigel just sits back, the base of his skull pressed to the upholstery. "Sure, sure."
Helpless, with nowhere to run or hide, Will turns his eyes forward. He catches Hannibal's eye in the rear view mirror, makes a show of glaring at him through the reflection.
True, his boyfriend is his own special brand of insufferable, but it's rare that Will is ever outright mad at him. Tonight, though, he's getting there. Why would he coerce Will to sit in the back with Nigel, while the passenger's seat lies empty and inviting at Hannibal's side? The way Nigel is practically propositioning Will can't be escaping him, Hannibal is much too smart for that. He has to know.
...Doesn't he?