Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

     It was a cool October day in Quantico, Virginia at the FBI Headquarters building. Inside, two men were trying to solve a new riddle. The new riddle, in question, being the task of figuring out who had decided to brutally murder black-haired women to then steal their feet. FBI Profiler Will Graham and his therapist, Doctor Hannibal Lecter, had been sorting through the evidence all morning. This is important, as it was getting close to 1pm and they had eaten at 7am.

     Will's stomach began to growl, and Hannibal glanced over at him, wondering if he would say anything. He did not, so Hannibal went back to looking through autopsy reports. Ten minutes later, that cursed growl happened again. Hannibal looked over at Will again, who seemed to not have even noticed the noises his traitorous stomach was making. Hannibal cleared his throat, hoping to gain Will's attention. Nothing. Hannibal would be damned if he let Will go hungry because he was too focused on this case.
   

     "Will, are you hungry?" Hannibal asked, continuing, "I made lunch for us before arriving here."
     Upon hearing Hannibal's voice, Will became startled and looked like a deer in headlights. Blinking, it took him a full fifteen seconds to finally pull together an answer.

     "Oh, thank you Hannibal but I actually brought my own lunch today," Will said. He glanced at the clock, and almost jumped out of his seat when he saw how late it had gotten. He then heard the gurgling noise that was being emitted from his own body.
     Pointing behind him, Will asked Hannibal, "My lunchbox is underneath my jacket, would you hand it to me please?"
     Nodding, Hannibal walked over to said jacket and grabbed the lunchbox as he grabbed his own. Hannibal, it should be mentioned, was very curious. He had never actually seen Will eat anything he had brought from his own house. When he was with Hannibal, he always either ate what Hannibal made or ate at some wretched fast food place before going to see Hannibal. He wouldn't dare eat fast food or junk food in front of Hannibal again, as Hannibal refused to even be in the same room as him until he was done and thoroughly washed his hands.
     The lunchbox itself was nothing special. It was a simple metal box painted to resemble a lake with a plastic handle that resembled a fishing rod. Resisting the urge to shake the lunchbox to guess its contents, Hannibal set it down in front of Will in the spot he had cleared for them. Hannibal set his own box down, and produced his very own fork and knife. Will wasted no time with trivial things such as manners, however, and immediately ripped open the lunchbox. Unable to hold in his curiosity any longer, Hannibal peeked into the lunchbox and almost screamed.
     On the top were what appeared to be cold, hard french fries strewed all over the inside from one of those awful fast food places that Will liked. Which was this one again? Hannibal did not have to think too hard, as the next thing he saw was an open ketchup packet on the side, with the woeful McDonalds logo. Underneath the fries was some sort of meat patty that seemed to be half eaten, and anyone with brains could tell was undercooked and unseasoned. Making it so much worse was the fact that none of these items were in containers, and the lunchbox wasn't even lined. Will had most likely just thrown these items in at the last minute in an attempt to get rid of food that he had lying around that could be dangerous to the dogs.
     Hannibal could do nothing but stare incredulity, as he simply could not register the fact that not only did Will consider these things "food," but he actually seemed to ENJOY it. How was Will still alive? If this is seriously how he ate before Hannibal, it is nothing more than a major miracle that he is still strong and healthy. He was eating food that would probably give him some disease, as it was in a contaminated surface that had been touched by raw meat. Wait. In what felt like slow motion, Hannibal finally registered that half of the "french fries" had already been consumed by Will.
     In a fit of destructive emotions, Hannibal swiftly stood up, grabbed the lunchbox, and dashed to the window. He held the thing like it would kill him if he held on for too long. He threw open the window, and threw the poison as far as he could out of the window. The contents inside went flying everywhere, but Hannibal did not care.
     "What the hell Hannibal? That was my lunch!"
     Hannibal, still in shock, just turned around and looked at Will. Poor, poor Will. He felt bad for Will's organs.
     When he realized he wasn't going to get an answer, Will sighed and walked over to his jacket. He reached into one of the pockets, and Hannibal felt his stomach sink to the center of the Earth. He surely didn't have more despicable items he called food in there, could he? Hannibal relaxed a little when Will pulled out a Coke bottle, but then he saw the condition it was in.
     The wrapping around the bottle was beginning to fall off, and about 1/3 of the contents were gone. As Will took a long gulp, he realized that the soda had gone entirely flat. There was not one drop of carbonation in the bottle. This proved to be the final straw for Hannibal, as he began to sob. It was filled with so many emotions, and Hannibal simply could not bring himself to care about the state he was in.
     "Take me home Will. Now," he said between sobs.
     This, as one would expect, shocked Will to his core. He knew Hannibal was capable of crying; He had seen him cry before. He had seen Hannibal in some of his most vulnerable moments, and even then he did not cry these dreadful sobs. Will was flabbergasted, and quickly agreed. He wanted to talk to Hannibal, to figure out what was wrong, but Hannibal wouldn't even look at him. Whatever this was, it was serious, and Will would not get an answer now.
     As Will was grabbing his coat, Jack entered the room as provoked by the noises coming from Hannibal.
     "What in the hell-" Jack started, but quickly stopped as he saw Hannibal. Jack was even more shocked, as he always saw Hannibal as a man who did not feel many emotions. He knew this was silly, of course, but he couldn't help it; Jack had only ever seen Hannibal when he was calm and collected. Before he could back out of the room and run away from whatever was happening, Hannibal grabbed both of his shoulders and stared at him. Stared into his soul.
     "Will is mentally unstable!" Hannibal wailed, "He is not fit to be in the field! He's not even fit to be alive! He is entirely incompetent Jack, he needs to be carefully watched!"
     Jack was confused, but he really did not want to ask more questions. He hated talking to people about their emotions, and besides, Will seemed okay. Up to this point, Jack thought he was perfectly okay to work, and Hannibal had agreed. He did not possibly know what could have caused Hannibal to have such a reaction as this, but he figured he did not want to know. So he walked away, as fast as he could.
     Will laid a hand on Hannibal's shoulder and led him to the car.
     "Hannibal, whatever it is, it'll be okay. Don't worry about it," Will spoke softly to Hannibal, hoping to calm him. This did nothing to ease Hannibal, and as soon as they got in the car Hannibal made a phone call.
     "Bedelia, sono incredibilmente sorpresa che Will sia vivo! E quello che chiama cibo! Stava mangiando carne cruda e "patatine fritte" incredibilmente vecchie!"
      (Bedelia, I am incredibly surprised Will is alive! And what he calls food! He was eating raw meat and incredibly old "french fries!")

     Will may not have spoken Italian, but he knew this was serious. He was able to deduce that he most likely called his therapist, Bedelia, and whatever the problem was involved him. With a gulp, Will focused on the road and getting Hannibal back home. He hoped beyond hope that he could fix this.

Chapter Text

     It took three days before Will heard from Hannibal again.

     After he dropped Hannibal off at his house, Will went to his own and tried to focus on the case. But his mind kept circling back to the incident that caused Hannibal to have the breakdown he did. Will went over the events leading up to it in his mind for hours and kept replaying the scene over and over again. He did not think that the case caused it, as it didn't come close to the gruesome killings Hannibal had committed himself. Maybe he was upset over the noises Will's stomach had been making? Will remembered it had involved him, and that was the closest he had come to any sort of an explanation. Something like this was probably built up over time. Maybe Hannibal had finally snapped and decided that he did not like Will anymore?

     Will's worrying finally met a wall when he received a phone call from Hannibal. 

     "Hannibal! I've been worried about you ever since the, the incident. Are you okay now?"

     Will was met with silence. "Be at my house at Six p.m." said the voice on the other side, followed by the dial tone. This did not satiate his anxieties; In fact, this made them worse. Because of the short nature of the phone call, Will did not have enough information to determine Hannibal's mood. Sighing, Will went to his bedroom to try and get ready in a manner that would please Hannibal. He even broke out the lint roller. 

********

     Six o'clock had arrived, and Will stood outside of Hannibal's door, waiting to be allowed inside. He had worn his best suit, and even made sure it was free of the stench of dogs. The door swung open, and Hannibal greeted him with a smile. Hannibal was wearing his normal attire, some fancy three-piece suit, along with the addition of an apron. This, along with the smell of food cooking, led Will to believe that Hannibal had invited him over for dinner. Good. Hannibal would not have invited him for dinner if he was still sour with him. Unless, of course, Hannibal had decided to eat him. Will shook the thought away as quickly as it came, knowing that Hannibal would not want to do that to him anymore. At least he hoped.

     "Thank you for arriving on time Will," Hannibal started, "This evening was prepped specially for you. Please sit at the table as I finish the final touches."

     Will nodded, and followed Hannibal inside to the cobalt blue dining room. Hannibal sat him down at the head of the table, the place reserved for the person with the highest authority. Will sat alone, and waited. And waited. He waited for what felt like years but was only maybe fifteen minutes. After the agonizing wait, Hannibal finally appeared with a cart absolutely covered with trays of towering foods. There were magnificent salads, wonderful fruit kebabs, and multiple different arrays of meats. There were cheeses, waters, and breads everywhere. Hannibal pulled out the largest plate Will had ever seen, set it down in front of him, and scooped a large serving of everything onto this plate.

      Will was stunned. There was so much food, so many different flavors, and it appeared to all be for him. He could not figure out what Hannibal was playing at, and what this had to do with his burst of emotion the other day.

     "Hannibal, this is all lovely, but we should talk about what happened the other day. Why were you so upset?"

      Hannibal just sighed a sigh worthy of a newly defeated king, and began to explain himself. "Will, it is absolutely a blessing of God that you are still living. It is an even bigger miracle that you are perfectly healthy. The food that you eat, that you prepare for yourself? It was so truly horrible, that I could not help myself. The fact that anyone, especially you, could stand to put those things you call "food" into your body hurts me in the deepest way possible. We are going to fix your diet, starting tonight. You will eat every last thing on this plate, including the properly cooked meats, even if I have to shove them down your throat. If you must know, I was so worried about your horrendous diet that I went to a reputable butcher for animal meat for this meal."

     Will's head was spinning now. He could not believe the words that just came out of Hannibal's mouth. He sat in silence, as he forced himself to register what was just said. Hannibal was really that upset over his lunch? Hannibal, the man who brutally murdered and ate people, was upset over old fries and a half-eaten deer patty? Will admits to himself that it isn't necessarily the best meal, but nevertheless he didn't think it was that horrible. 

     Will had sat with a deadpan expression on his face for so long that he didn't even notice that Hannibal was cutting his meat up until a piece was shoved into his mouth. He almost choked, as he didn't actually expect Hannibal to follow through on the promise of shoving it down his throat. After he recovered himself, he snatched the fork and knife away from Hannibal and began to feed himself. Watching this, Hannibal sat down beside him and did not move his gaze once. It took Will forty-five minutes to eat everything Hannibal had given him, but he ate it all. He did not want Hannibal to force the rest down his esophagus.

     Hannibal smiled, "That's much better! Now, I will teach you how to make simple meals that even a child could do. I will even have the necessary ingredients sent over to your house. This is your new diet. Please pay close attention on how to tell when meat is properly cooked as well."

       "Why do you keep talking about properly cooked meat?"

     Hannibal's face fell for a second, "Did you really not realize that the gross meat slab you had was severely undercooked?"

     "No, I always cook my meat like that."

     This caused Hannibal to stand up so violently his chair fell backwards. He grabbed Will's hand, yanking him out of his chair as well.

     "Your lessons are going to start tonight Will. This will be much harder than I thought."