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His dogs scratch at the other side of the door, sensing their master's distress. Will wants nothing more than to let them in, let them lick away the tears from his cheeks. He’s made a mistake, and if the two lines appear on the test, then he’s made a horrible mistake. His hands shake as he sits on the bathroom floor, his legs pressed to his chest. He hadn’t planned on having sex with Hannibal, even if he originally thought it would be a good way to manipulate him. But Will didn’t feel he was that horrible of a person. Playing Hannibal’s mind was one thing, but his heart…
Even as it happened, Will repeated in his head that this didn’t mean anything to him. That the sweet words Hannibal whispered into his ear were just words. That begging for Hannibal’s knot was just another manipulation, another lie. How the rush of endorphins was only caused by his biology, he would have reacted like that with any other Alpha. Hannibal is just like every other Alpha.
With shaky hands, he picks up the test. He’s never been religious, but he’ll pray to any God. With a sigh, he looks down, and a pained whine immediately leaves his lips. Two lines. Positive. He’s pregnant, pregnant with Hannibal Lecter’s child. Fuck. Jerking forward, he throws open the towel bowl and vomits. Bile coats his mouth as he sobs. He is so stupid, a stupid, stupid omega.
Flushing the toilet, he sits back, running his hands over his face. He could get rid of it, drive to a clinic now, and beg them to take it away. No one would ever know, not Jack, not Alana, and not Hannibal. He could die with this secret, but the more the thought grows, the sicker he feels. It’s only been 5 minutes, and he’s already grown attached. Will presses his hand to his flat stomach. Is he really willing? He’s always been scared of the idea of being pregnant, permanently attached to an Alpha he's meant to serve forever. He’s been taking suppressants for as long as he can remember. He’d still be on them if Jack hadn’t convinced him to stop.
Jack’s logic was sound; off suppressants, Will’s scent will become stronger, and he’ll be showing Hannibal his desire to tap into more biological needs. It worked too. Will knew that Hannibal always stood closer, taking the time to scent Will whenever the opportunity arose. He even purchased better shampoos to cater to Hannibal’s sensitive nose. It was all going so well until Will fucked it up.
He grabs the test and throws it at the wall. He immediately grabs another one. The first one had to be wrong; it happens, tests can be wrong. He’s not pregnant, he’s not a failure, it was just a moment of weakness. An instance of closeness he never should have allowed himself.
After taking the second test, he tosses it to the side. He touches his stomach again, trying to feel anything even though it’s impossible. As if he’d look down and see himself swell. He rests his head back against the wall. The next 5 minutes are excruciating. And when he finally picks up the test, he turns to vomit. Flushing the toilet, he reaches for the pack again.
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Will sits in his car, his hands gripping the steering wheel. He’s been in the parking lot of the Quantano FBI Academy for 10 minutes. Jack had called Will this morning, wanting to have a meeting about Hannibal and the next steps for the plan. Even though Jack gave no indication, Will couldn’t get rid of the feeling that Jack already knew. That he’d be able to smell it on him despite the fact that it was impossible. Omega’s scents don’t start to change until 2 weeks in, and most of the time, only the Alpha can tell.
Getting out of the car, Will pushes his glasses up his nose, going back to old habits. Walking into the building, it feels like eyes are all over him. Whispering about him, people always talked about Will behind his back, but it feels different now. Like everyone knew who he is, a Cannibal's Omega.
Entering Jack’s office feels more like entering a war zone. He took a seat in front of Jack’s desk. Jack immediately starts to go off talking about the next steps in capturing The Chesapeake Ripper. Will couldn’t pay attention, not with the thoughts racing in his head. He felt numb, having barely eaten and slept in the past days.
“Will.” Jack’s deep voice interrupts his thoughts.
Will looks at him, “Yes?”
Jack frowns, “I was just telling you how Hannibal invited me for dinner tomorrow evening. I believe that will be the best opportunity to catch him.”
Will nods, “Yeah, that works.” He and Hannibal planned it together. He’s the one who suggested one last dinner, knowing Jack would take the bait and pounce. Then, with Will’s help, Hannibal will kill Jack, and they will run together. At least that’s what Will told Hannibal. What he’s meant to do is help Jack catch Hannibal, effectively betraying him. What they both don't know is that Will hasn’t decided which way he will go. He knows he should help Jack, but deep inside, all he wants is to run to Hannibal. Run to his alpha.
Jack watches Will. He either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care because he continues as if nothing is wrong. Every second that passes, the more suffocated Will feels, the more he needs to get out of here. He doesn’t want to make this choice. He fights the urge to grab his stomach -he’s been doing it more often- but Jack will notice. Will can only imagine the disgust on Jack’s face if he found out about it. He’d force Will to terminate it without hesitation, but even then, things would never be the same.
“You should go over to Dr. Lecter’s tonight and make sure everything is put into place. Are you sure he doesn’t suspect a thing?”
Will nods, “Yes. He’s completely convinced I’m like him.”
Jack nods, “Good.” He stands up and goes over to Will, his scent overwhelming Will’s senses. Jack sets his hand on Will’s shoulder, and it takes everything in him not to flinch. “I’m trusting you will do the right thing.”
Will nods again, “I will.”
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Standing in front of Hannibal's house, Will makes sure his shirt is flat. He’d covered himself in cologne, trying to mask his scent. Technically, no one should be able to smell his pregnancy, but this was Hannibal. Hannibal could smell Will before he even entered a room.
Knocking gently, he holds his breath. As the door opens, he’s met with Hannibal’s scent. Immediately, he feels a wave of safety, which scares him. Hannibal smiles at him, his fangs peaking out from under his lips. “Mylimasis.” He reaches out for Will, pulling him close and inhaling.
Will squeezes his eyes shut, waiting for Hannibal to react, but nothing happens. He lifts his own head and scents Hannibal, only finding the comforting scent he’s grown to love. He slowly wraps his arms around Hannibal. He can ignore it all for one more night. One more night with Hannibal at his side before it all shatters.
Walking inside, he lets Hannibal lead him to the dining room. “Tonight is our last dinner in this house.” His hand rests on the dip of Will’s back. “Soon we will have a place to call our own.” He pulls the chair out for Will. He sits down, thanking Hannibal, who responds by pressing a kiss to Will’s temple. Seems all walls have finally crashed down.
Will fights back tears as he watches Hannibal go to the kitchen to fetch their meal. Will reaches up and rubs his face. He just has to make it through tonight. Hannibal walks back in holding two plates and starts to ramble on about the origins of the dish, but Will doesn't pay attention. He looks down at his plate, not even bothered about what he knows is human meat.
Hannibal opens a bottle of wine, pouring each of them a glass. Will stares at it with horror; he can’t drink, but Hannibal will definitely notice if he doesn’t touch the wine. He picks up his fork and takes a bite. It’s amazing as always, every flavor exploding on his tongue. “Delicious.” He tells Hannibal with a soft smile.
Hannibal smiles back, picking up his glass, “I’m glad you like it. I learned to cook this dish while in Italy. It has always been a favorite of mine. I’m excited to show you, Florance.”
Will takes another bite; the words sat heavy in his chest. They could run now, Hannibal would if Will asked. He always did what Will asked. “I’m excited for what you will show me.” They sit in silence for a bit, which Will is grateful for. He eats the food quickly, straining to fill the empty pit in his stomach.
“What's wrong, my dear?” Hannibal asks with a raised brow. It was only a matter of time before he noticed. He always notices things about Will.
“Nothing, I’m just nervous about tomorrow, I guess.” It’s a piss poor excuse that he hopes Hannibal takes.
“What troubles you about tomorrow?” Hannibal sets down his silverware, his full attention on Will.
“I don’t know, just the idea of it, I’m sure everything will be fine. I mean, it’s 2 against 1, we’ll kill him easily.” Will watches nervously as Hannibal stands up, making his way over. Once he’s next to Will, Hannibal sets a hand on his shoulder. He looks up at Hannibal, trying to decipher his expression.
Hannibal’s hand moves to the back of Will’s neck, holding in a way that can only be described as possessive. His fingers brush against Will’s scent glands making him whine. Hannibal hums softly, an act meant to relax. It works far better than Will would have liked. “Sweet boy.” He leans down, pressing his nose to Will’s head. “Shall we move to the sitting room?”
Will nods and starts to sit up, leaving the food behind as they make their way out of the dining room. Hannibal leads them to a cozy room, illuminated by a fireplace. He sits down, pulling Will down with him. Will slides between Hannibal’s legs, his back resting against the elder's chest. It’s a comfortable position, Will imagines them doing this every night. Hannibal’s hands resting on his stomach as he presses kisses to Will’s neck.
Hannibal runs his hands down Will’s arm, “Tell me what bothers you.” His lips brushing against Will’s ear.
Will lets himself relax, “I fear I’m going to ruin everything.” It’s the half-truth.
Hannibal nods, “How so?”
Will tilts his head to the side, taking in Hannibal’s scent. His Alpha’s scent. “I keep imagining scenarios, each different but ending in the same way. With us dead.”
Hannibal wraps his arms around Will’s body, “Death could never do us part, Mylimasis.”
“But it can, I don’t know what's beyond the veil, and it’s not like we’re bonded.”
Hannibal pauses, “Is that what you wish? To bond?”
Will’s breath catches. He’s already carrying Hannibal’s child. What more is a bond between them? Maybe it’s what he needs; with Hannibal’s teeth in his neck, he’ll be free. And if everything does go to shit, mating laws state that Will is exempt from testifying against Hannibal. He tilts his head to the side, baring his neck to Hannibal, hoping this is enough of an answer.
Hannibal’s chest rumbles as he leans closer, his breath hot against Will’s skin. “Do you want to be my Omega Will?”
Will whines softly, “More than anything.”
Hannibal leans closer, his tongue sliding over Will’s glands. He pauses for a second, but instead of the sting of teeth, Will feels the gentle press of Hannibal’s lips. “I would love nothing more than to mark you. To claim you as my eternal mate, but I am nothing if not a gentleman. When I claim you, it will be after a long night of courting. I’ll cook you dinner, serve you wine. Only then will I take you to our bed. I will undress you slowly, letting my mouth worship every part of you. As I take you, my knot opening you up to receive me, will I sink my teeth into your neck.”
Will moans softly. He wants to yell, to beg Hannibal to claim him now. To decide for him, so he has no choice but to follow. “I’d like that.” He says instead, letting himself dive into the fantasy. He’ll decide tomorrow; for now, he will stay here with Hannibal.
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Will fumbles with his phone clicking each number, after Alana’s call he knew he needed to talk to Hannibal. As the phone dials, he imagined everything we could tell Hannibal. Tell him that he’s sorry for deceiving him, that he regrets agreeing to Jack’s plan, and that he’s pregnant with their child, to tell him that he loves him. But when Hannibal’s voice sounds on the other end, all Will can say is, “They know.”
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Closing the taxi door, he runs to Hannibal’s front door, the rain soaking him immediately. Spotting someone lying on the concrete walkway, he quickly falls next to them. Alana is panting, bloody, dripping from her lips as glass surrounds her body. Will takes off his jacket and lays it over her body. Her voice is soft, but her warning is clear. Jack’s still in there. Will pulls out his phone and calls for an ambulance, touching Alana one more time before sprinting into the house.
Not sure what to expect, Will draws out his gun, pointing it as he walks to the kitchen. Water drips from his sodden curls as he quietly walks. From the entrance, he can see blood pooling from underneath the pantry door. Hearing soft sniffing, he turns around only to freeze. He slowly lowers his gun as he tries to process what is in front of him. “Abigail?”
Will’s heart pounds in his chest. She looks exactly how he last saw her. He’d been convinced he’d killed her, the guilt suffocating him every second he spent at the BSHCI. When he found out it was actually Hannibal who killed her, he felt overwhelming rage. After a while, the wound began to heal, and he chose to forgive Hannibal despite how hard it was.
“I didn’t know what else to do, so I just did what he told me.” Her voice is shaky, her body shuddering in fear. All Will wants to do is run to her, pull her into his arms, and whisper that everything is going to be ok.
“Where is he?” Will says, his voice rough with grief. Abigail's eyes move behind Will before going back to his own. Will slowly starts to turn around, “Y-you were supposed to leave.”
Hannibal looks worn, his shirt stained with blood and hair uncombed. His face is somber, blood falling from his nose. “We couldn’t leave without you.”
Will feels himself crumble, and he searches Hannibal’s face looking for the love he’s so familiar with. He wants to speak, to tell Hannibal that they could leave now. To pull the man into his arms and cry, to beg for forgiveness.
Hannibal reaches up his hands, cupping Will’s cheek, his eyes unreadable. Abruptly, a sharp pain erupts in Will’s gut, and it starts to spread his hand reaching out to grab onto Hannibal. Pain steals his voice, and his legs waver. Hannibal’s hand slides to the back of Will's head, his arms wrapping around Will, keeping him upright. Will continues to gasp in pain, his body growing heavier each second.
“Time did reverse.” Hannibal’s hand pets his hair, “The teacup that I shattered did come together. The place was made for Abigail in your world. Do you understand?” His voice grows harsher, his grip tightening. Will shakes his head, not being able to think beyond the pain. “The place was made for all of us, together.” Hannibal continues, pulling Will back, holding his head so they can see each other's faces. “I wanted to surprise you. And you… you wanted to surprise me.” He lets go of Will, causing him to fall onto the floor, crying out in pain.
Will’s hands go to his stomach, but not in the way they have been recently. Instead of feeling the possibility of life, warm blood coats his hands, agony taking hold in his belly. He can’t think, it’s too much, it hurts. Will looks up at Hannibal, straining to see past the tears in his eyes.
“I let you know me. See me. I gave you a rare gift, but you didn’t want it.” Hannibal stands above Will, imposing in stature.
“Didn’t I?” Will stutters out, needing Hannibal to know. To know he wasn't faking it. To know it was all real, what they have is real.
“You would deny me my life.”
“N-no. No.” Will tries to pull his legs to his chest, to protect himself from what he knows is going to happen. Protect himself from what he is going to lose. “Not your life, no.” His shoes slip on the blood, so he gives up.
My freedom, then, you would take that from me. Confine me to a prison cell.” Hannibal looks around the room, “Do you believe you could change me, the way I’ve changed you.”
Will looks up at Hannibal, at the man who’d he had finally found his place with. Who’d promised Will the world, who held him like he mattered. Who made Will feel so good. “I already did.”
Hannibal pauses for a second, “Fate and circumstance have returned us to this moment. When the teacup shatters. I forgive you, Will. Will you forgive me?”
Understanding what Hannibal means, Will watches in horror as Hannibal turns to Abigail. “Don’t– d-don’t. No, no–” Hannibal reaches out his hand for Abigail, beckoning her over. Will continues to plead as Abigail takes Hannibal’s hand, turning around to face Will. Tears stream down his cheeks when Hannibal’s knife presses against her neck.
“No!” Will cries out, forced to watch Hannibal slit her throat. Fresh blood splattering onto his face. Abigail gasps in pain, her body crumbling to the floor when Hannibal lets go. The force of his yell caused the pain to get worse. His hand slides from his stomach, reaching out for her.
Hannibal steps before Will, kneeling down, a single tear drips down his cheek. He opens his mouth to speak again when he freezes. Will can see Hannibal’s nostrils flare as he inhales. Leaning down further, his nose closer to Will’s stomach, he breathes in. Will watches him, his body shaking as the moment he’s been dreading finally comes.
Hannibal looks back at Will, a ring of red around his irises. His hand reaches forward, ignoring Will’s flinch, he pushes his fingers to the fresh cut. Will cries out in pain, Hannibal bringing his freshly coated fingers to his nose. “Will.” His voice is deep, deeper than normal.
Will starts to sob, “I-I’m sorry.”
Hannibal moves his hand back to Will’s stomach, pressing to the wound. It was a calculated slide, meant to hurt, not kill. But it seems Hannibal had miscalculated and ended up killing anyway. More tears spill from Hannibal’s eyes, “Why didn’t you–”. His voice breaks.
“I’m sorry,” Will says again, not knowing how else to convey his suffering.
Hannibal moves closer, his hand cupping Will’s cheek once more. “When?”
“A week.” Will cries harder, each sob breaking him more.
Hannibal is shaking now. He looks back down at Will’s stomach. “Forgive me.” His forehead presses to Will’s shoulder, “My sweet boy, my dearest omega, please forgive me.”
Will presses his nose to Hannibal’s hair, straining to find that comforting scent. With shaking hands, he pulls Hannibal closer. Hannibal’s hands wrap around Will, and he maneuvers his body, getting on his knees. His hands grab Will’s legs, and he starts to lift.
Will moans in distress, clutching the fabric of Hannibal’s shirt, “Hannibal.” He says softly, voice trailing off with each of Hannibal’s steps. Closing his eyes, he counts each step, shivering as rain pours onto his body. Hannibal’s hands draw him closer, warm lips pressing to Will’s forehead.
Will feels like he’s floating, his body suspended in the air. He dreams of Hannibal, his Alpha. He dreams of them together in a house by the sea. Dogs crowd around them as they grow their family. He dreams of a baby, wrapped snuggly in his arms. A nursery painted with detailed murals. Dreams of a bite in his neck, a connection beyond this world. Dreams of a life he could never have, love he’s always wanted, and a man conjured from both Heaven and Hell.