Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Hannibal had left soon after the incident to hunt. He hadn't found the urge to go while being occupied with Will and the issue of Mason Verger. But the hunger he had been feeling for Will had to be redirected. It was strong enough to bother him, which his emotions rarely were.

He thought he had the situation covered, he gave the man half an hour to calm down and then went to his door to knock. But the noises of pleasure coming from Will's room were enough to drive him from the house. The little moans and gasps still echoed around in his head like a song. He watched his target with his mind half on Will.

The sounds dissipated as the hiker set down his bag with a heavy groan and collapsed onto a tangle of tree roots to replenish his fluids. Hannibal walked around the corner with a large stick in an expensive tracksuit.

"Do you need assistance?" He approached the young man with a mask of concern.

The hiker laughed boisterously, "Maybe a time machine. I regret walking so far out. Phew." He wiped a hand across his brow. "How many miles are you doing?"

"Oh, I'm not hiking." He smiled, "I'm hunting." He brought the stick down across the man's head, knocking him cold onto the dirt path. He hummed in satisfaction.

A patch of dark blood welled at the place of injury, Hannibal quickly rubbed it off with his hand before any dripped to the ground. He ran his tongue over the fluids, sucking it off his fingers before throwing the pig over his shoulder and grabbing the hiking bag. He had parked at the end of the trail rather than the beginning, not unusual for people who wanted a downhill walk. It made for easy pickings of the tired hikers finishing the trail in the traditional way.

Hannibal carried the man half a mile off the trail into a circle of bushes he had selected beforehand to put all his tools. He had brought only the necessities: a tranquilizer dart, a scalpel, gloves, a thoracic retractor, a large freezer bag, a bouquet of roses, rope, and two knives.

The doctor laid the man on his back and dumped his bag before glancing through it and taking the cash. He pulled on his gloves before slitting the front of the man's shirt with his scalpel. He brushed a hand over the muscular chest, deciding on what parts to take before he dissected it. There wasn't much room in Clarice's fridge, nor would Clarice appreciate finding parts of this man. He only needed meat for tonight's meal, nothing extra. He poked the tranq dart into the man's upper arm before starting.

Hannibal pressed his hands against the sternum, feeling the placement of tissue and bone. His scalpel cut the thin layer of skin between the man's breasts, sliding two fingers into the cut to pull back and reveal glistening bone. His blood-slicked fingers held up the fleshy layer as he used his other hand to run a knife in a path around his pectorals and connect back with the first incision. The smooth circle of skin and tissue was sliced off like deli meat and placed to the side.

The doctor spread the man's ribs with the thoracic retractor and neatly cut into the pericardium. The fluid from the sac mixed with the blood on his gloves. The superior vena cava was Hannibal's favorite to cut, it was a similar sensation to cutting soap. The rest of the pulmonary veins he detached with haste, and he placed the heart in the freezer bag he brought. He moved the retractor closer to the lungs so he could reach the thymus. It was a precarious procedure if you wanted the subject to live. Luckily, this one was already dead. It bothered him to remove the organ so sloppily. He missed his work table and tools.

One by one, he slipped the roses in between the man's ribcage, filling the hole where his heart had been. After he was satisfied with their placement he removed his tools and packed up. The hiker would be a present for Crawford, a message saying he couldn't be killed. And the art he was making...Well, that was for Will. An apology at its finest. Maybe Will would forgive him once he saw.

Hannibal peeled his gloves off after tying the ropes and securing the body. He admired his work for a few moments before heading to his truck, leaving the body dangling in a noose, a heart of roses sticking from its chest.

"Where the hell have you been?"

Hannibal ignored the rude outburst to the best of his abilities as he began pulling out the ingredients he needed for dinner. White vinegar, garlic cloves, soy sauce...

"Be a dear and call Clarice to see if she can purchase some potatoes on her way home. I would do it myself but I fear I'm on house arrest. I'm making Lomo Saltado for dinner, a meal I believe you quite enjoyed last time I prepared it for you."

"I asked you a simple question. Do not play mind games with me, we dropped that a long time ago. It's noon, you've been gone how long? And where were you?"

"I left last night and stayed at a hotel. It was rather nice, but the bed was rather uncomfortable. Then I went on a lovely nature walk and caught some food."

Will stepped closer, anger etched deep into the tired lines of his face. "You weren't supposed to leave."

"I'm not being guarded very well, am I? Clarice was gone and you were busy." He smiled wolfishly, letting Will see his teeth. It felt intimate and slightly uncomfortable to bear them in a light-hearted way. His walls went back up just as the younger man's face flushed scarlet.

"Fuck you," Will lunged with a swinging fist.

Hannibal caught his arm and twisted it, flinging him into the counter and rattling the dishes. A couple of mugs toppled from the opened cabinets and smashed into the tiles.

Will stumbled back at the doctor, his movements jerky and impulsive. They were easy to avoid as he threw sloppy punches in every direction. The moment Hannibal saw Will's eyes focus on a butcher's knife he slammed him against the fridge.

"Will, if you have something you would like to say, now would be the time. I doubt that this infantile tussling match is what you intended to happen."

"Let go of me," he spat, jabbing his knee hard into Hannibal's stomach. It caught him off guard long enough for Will to punch him in the jaw. Hannibal's teeth caught his tongue and blood welled in his mouth. He spat it into the sink for show and turned back just in time as Will came at him. He bent and caught him by the waist and knocked him to the floor. Will's head knocked loudly against the tiles and he grunted in pain.

"Are you done acting like a child?"

Will gritted his teeth in pain and peered up at him. "You're the one who ran away."

"It was only for a few hours and I've never known you to be someone to care about those things."

"I'm not talking about today!" Will yelled, "I meant you left me and went to Italy!" He clawed at the doctor's hands, trying to loosen the grip on him.

"We discussed this. I invited you and you ran off."

"No! No, you didn't! You didn't use your words! You didn't ask me with words to come with you! I didn't know you were going to leave! I needed time to process everything. How I felt about... things. But you left and you didn't care! I thought you could care in your own way, and I loved that, but apparently, that was fake too!" He panted heavily with the release of anger the confession lent him.

Hannibal took in his unruly manner, reading into his actions and analyzing them. Will did not used to speak so freely about his true emotions. He had been working on communication, it seemed.

"Have you been going to therapy?"

Will deflated slightly, some of the anger leaving and replaced by exhaustion. "Yes. I have. For a couple of months. And all he ever tells me to do is to work on letting you go."

Hannibal bristled, a bit of jealousy and resentment stirring deep in the caverns of his mind.

"I obviously haven't been able to do that. Even though you are far from healthy for me. All you've ever done is hurt me and leave me. You weren't even a good psychiatrist, you did the opposite of help me."

Doctor Lecter pressed his hands harder against Will as the other man started to slip away. "I disagree. The changes I saw you go through were beautiful. You resist because society resists. But I can see you, I can see how you enjoy the changes. You told me yourself that it was beautiful. You ran out of fear. And I did not wait because you were not ready."

Tears glistened in the corner of Will's eyes and he remembered the bitter, salty taste of them. He yearned to lean forward and consume. Any part he could get would both sate and leave him wanting.

"No, I'm not like you," he lied.

"I am not leaving again, Will. And that is only because you are like me. Maybe now you will finally accept my gift." He leaned closer to inhale the side of his neck and bathe in the feverish scent of him.

"Wonderful," he whispered. The younger man shuddered, his breath catching and pulse spiking.

"Just because we want something," Will murmured back, his voice scratchy, "Doesn't mean we can have it."

Hannibal's hand drifted to the ex-agent's neck, fitting it like a necklace. "I've learned the opposite is true."

"WHAT IN THE HOLY HELL IS GOIN' ON HERE?! WHAT HAPPENED TO MY KITCHEN?!"

Will scrambled up to his feet; Hannibal took his time, unbothered by the sudden appearance of Clarice.

"We will clean it up, I assure you. I can replace any valuables we broke."

Clarice held up a set of thick cuffs, "I don't even know who to put these on now."

"Are you going back out today, Clarice? I need a few things for dinner."

"I wasn't but I am now." She threw down the cuffs and grabbed her car keys. "I'm not dealing with this. My house better look clean when I get back. Please do not kill each other."

Hannibal hummed as Clarice slammed the front door behind her, "She used to take everything so seriously. She's grown into a curious character. Does she sleep now?"

Will rubbed a hand over his face, the overstimulation and soreness kicking in. "The moment is over now isn't it?"

Hannibal felt something akin to glee at the admission. "Moments come as often as they go."

Their eyes caught, and Will smiled shyly, a small laugh escaping past his pretty lips. "We're a mess."

"I don't think so," he responded.

"I'll go to the store to get your potatoes."

"Thank you, Will."

"Clarice doesn't know what she's been eating, does she?"

"She never asked."

Will laughed, and the sound thrummed through Hannibal's core like the acceptance of a gift, like the other half of his soul coming home.