Chapter Text
When Will had first mentioned the noodling tournament, Hannibal had questioned if it was a cooking event, thinking perhaps it had something to do with Louisiana local cuisine. He couldn’t recall ever coming across a dish that originated in that area that had anything to do with pasta, but was willing to admit ignorance. The way Will’s eyes hat lit up and adamantly refused to answer, told Hannibal that it was definitely not that.
Will, realizing if he didn’t tell Hannibal right away Hannibal would try to research it later, he threatened dire consequences if Hannibal looked up anything on his own. Hannibal, though excited at the prospect of punishment, knew that Will was serious, and whatever he planned would not be fun. So, all he knew about their vacation plans was the location and weather. Will had warned him he needed outdoor clothes for warm temperatures, so that meant most of Hannibal’s wardrobe would not be acceptable.
Thanks to Hannibal’s persistence, he and Will now were sitting side by side in first class, enjoying their respective alcoholic beverages. Will had insisted that he didn’t need anything fancy, he had flown around for FBI cases enough that he was used to the small economy seats. It was clear Hannibal wasn’t about to endure anything less than the best, so Will had reluctantly conceded.
He wouldn’t ever admit it out loud, but this was probably the most comfortable Will had ever been on a flight. He and Hannibal had plenty of room to move their legs, and the cushions were wonderfully plush. Hannibal had noticed Will’s relief when he slid down into his assigned seat, not saying anything, but passing him a smug look. Will had glared at him, telling him to shut up before he had uttered a word. The first hour of the flight passed in comfortable silence, but Hannibal's need for conversation eventually won out.
“This event we’re going to be attending seems to hold significance to you, Will. I can’t help but wonder if it’s something you experienced during your childhood.”
Will glanced over to Hannibal, turning from the window he had been watching the landscape below from. “You’d be right. It’s probably the source of most of my good memories with my dad.”
Hannibal squeezed Will’s hand where their fingers sat entwined on the shared armrest. “Was your experience with him an unhappy one?”
“Not exactly,” Will tried to explain. “He did the best he could, it’s just that he was working most of the time. We never had the money to go to state fairs or anything like that.”
Hannibal nodded. “You had to grow up quickly, no time for the trivialities of an irresponsible youth.”
“Yeah,” Will agreed. “But this was the one thing he always made time for. It wasn’t something we had to pay to do; it meant a week's worth of food, and a cash prize if we were lucky.”
“Were you?”
Will hummed in confusion.
“Lucky,” Hannibal supplied.
“Sometimes.” Will seemed lost in thought. “It’s why my father started entering me in the competition, even though I wasn’t technically old enough to qualify. More chance we could walk away with something.”
“Was it something you enjoyed, at least?”
Will smiled fondly. “Yeah. When I was younger, it scared me a bit. But once I got past the preliminary failures and resulting wounds, I got a lot better at it.”
Hannibal quirked his eyebrow. “Was it dangerous?”
Will gave a short laugh. “If you didn’t know what you were doing. Or if you were small. The first time, I don’t know what dad was thinking. I was barely a hundred pounds, nearly drowned.”
Hannibal greedily absorbed every small bit of information Will offered, trying to piece together exactly what this mysterious tournament was. So far, he knew it was done outside near water, it was dangerous, and it meant food. It clued him in a little bit, and he decided to make a guess.
“Is this a fishing competition, Will?”
Will snorted. “You could say that.” He startled, realizing what he had just said, and shot a nasty look towards Hannibal, hitting him on the arm. “You sneaky bastard, stop trying to figure it out!”
Hannibal grinned. “I’m merely engaging in conversation, I can hardly be blamed for what you choose to tell me.”
“Yeah yeah, you and that silver tongue of yours.” Hannibal watched something flash through Will’s eyes, and the profiler smirked, turning Hannibal’s chin with his hand. “I think I have a better use for it.”
Will didn’t reveal what he was thinking, simply got up from his seat, shuffled past Hannibal, and disappeared into the bathroom. Hannibal got the hint, and waited a few minutes before making his way after him.
When Hannibal opened the sliding door, Will was still looking around, surprised. “Y’know, I knew first class bathrooms were going to be nice and all, but this is really someth-'' Hannibal's mouth was on him before he could finish the sentiment. Will’s back hit the edge of the sink; it was definitely higher quality than he had been used to, but the space was still cramped. Hannibal’s tongue dipped in and out, and he cradled Will’s head so he could maneuver it however he wanted.
Will gave back as good as he was getting, swirling his own tongue around Hannibal’s, nipping at his lips when he got the chance. Every noise he made was swallowed by Hannibal, and Will took in Hannibal’s moans in turn. Hannibal’s kisses traveled to his neck, but didn’t stay there for long, as he was already unbuckling Will’s belt and pulling him out of his underwear. Will braced himself against the counter when Hannibal dropped down and took him into his mouth without delay, putting his hands behind Will’s thighs to swallow him deeper.
Will took one of his fists and bit down on it, trying to muffle the groans that were threatening to spill from his mouth. Hannibal stalled, and stopped actively drawing him in. Hannibal brought Will’s other hand down to his head, encouraging him to thrust into his slackened mouth. Will didn’t need any more direction, as he immediately started to sofly push himself in and out of Hannibal’s soft lips. Hannibal pulled them back just a bit, knowing that the sight of his teeth poking slightly out did things to Will. Sure enough, that was the motivation Will needed to start moving his hips faster.
Both of his hands were tangled in Hannibal’s hair now, using it as leverage to push and pull Hannibal on his cock, each thrust going a little deeper, a little harder. A thumb drifted down to Hannibal’s mouth, hooking at the corner and pulling it open wider. It revealed more of his teeth, and the pad of his finger brushed over Hannibal’s slightly protruded incisor, pressing up on the tip of a canine. Hannibal opened wider in response, and Will pushed in just enough that his cock bumped the back of Hannibal’s throat. He swallowed reflexively around the tip, and Will shuddered.
“That’s it,” Will purred. He angled his foot so it was pressing down on Hannibal’s crotch. He wasn’t surprised to find Hannibal was already rock hard “Taking it so well for me. You like that?”
Hannibal’s eyelashes fluttered, lids almost closing when Will increased the pressure, hips twitching in response. His eyes stayed open, though, rapt, dedicated to watching Will’s every facial expression as he suckled gently on his cock, running his tongue lightly along the shaft.
“I want you to touch yourself for me, Hannibal.” Will shifted his foot enough so that Hannibal could reach below his waistband and pull himself out, beginning to stroke slowly. Will’s hips gave a quick, harsh thrust. His foot lifted to settle atop the hand Hannibal had on his cock, pushing Hannibal to go faster. And go faster he did. Hannibal’s pace quickened, and in response, Will jerked more enthusiastically, holding Hannibal’s head in place.
Will’s face was flushed, and his steady rhythm was beginning to stutter, hips moving involuntarily, chasing his release. He looked down to see Hannibal’s own cock darkening as well, indicating his approaching orgasm. Will gripped tighter in Hannibal’s hair, pulling him down once, twice, before dragging him all the way down to spill down his throat. Hannibal swallowed with vigour, pulling back to get the last drops of it on his tongue. He was still stroking himself, and Will, still twitching, reached over and tore off some toilet paper, passing it down to Hannibal in sympathy.
It was a sight to watch Hannibal’s orgasm wrack his body, the sound he made went straight to Will’s softening dick, and a little more fluid dribbled out onto his boxers. Hannibal caught the sticky mess in the toilet paper Will had given him, avoiding the inevitable obvious stain on his trousers. As always, Hannibal composed himself more quickly than Will, tossing the dirty tissue in the toilet and flushing it. He looked around Will to fix his hair in the mirror before slipping out the door.
On his way back to his seat, Hannibal passed a flight attendant pushing a drink cart down the aisle, who gave him a knowing look before turning back to hand another passenger her drink. Will followed soon after, sliding down beside Hannibal, the flight attendant glancing similarly towards the pair as they settled. Will didn’t notice that the attendant had paid any attention to them, but Hannibal slipped the man a bill when he passed by, for his discretion. The rest of the flight passed uneventfully, light conversation passing between the two of them until they landed.
~~~
To Hannibal, the place that they arrived at resembled a fairground, minus the flashy amusement park rides. There were stalls selling t-shirts among other trinkets. Food trucks were also scattered about, some of them with longer lines than others. Will wore a broad grin on his face the whole time, shooting amused looks at Hannibal every so often.
Hannibal stuck out like a sore thumb, and Will was enjoying every second of it. He had begged the man to dress down, and technically, Hannibal had complied. Still, he was definitely a fish out of water. Will snorted at the thought. The taller man was wearing a blue untucked linen shirt rolled up at the sleeves, exposing lightly tanned forearms. He had soft, cream colored slacks ending in laced up brown shoes. It was exactly the kind of outdoor wear Will had expected from Hannibal, but it was still entertaining to watch him walk amongst the crowd, passing men who were either shirtless, or sporting flannels with torn off sleeves.
Will himself was sporting an old t-shirt and a pair of cargo shorts with a pair of gloves hanging out of a pocket, effectively blending in with most of the people there. Live music was blasting out over several speakers set out around the festival, bands playing popular songs from Johnny Cash, Willie Nelson, and other popular country artists. Will made a bee-line for the tent where you sign up, managing to get his name down with one of the groups going earlier in the day. He had about thirty minutes to explore the grounds before him and the other men on the list would be called up.
Hannibal found himself being pulled along towards a large, garish food stand boasting several fried catfish dishes, the words “Catfish Bayou” arced over the grainy pictures. He looked over at Will incredulously. Will, to his surprise, was nearly vibrating with excitement, something about his demeanor reflected more childish glee than his normal, reserved attitude. Hannibal, who had been gearing up to protest the obviously greasy food, felt his reservations die in his throat at the sight. There was just something about Will’s excitement that passed to him, sharing in his boy’s happiness.
When they reached the front of the line, Hannibal picked the item on the menu that seemed the safest, a basket of breaded catfish with fries. Will ordered a fish taco and the largest size of sweet tea they had, insisting on paying for the both of them. When their food finally came out, Hannibal was pleasantly shocked by the quality of the fish. It was still greasy and deep fried, which he wasn’t overly fond of, but the meat was fresh, like it had been caught recently. He still didn’t touch the fries, though.
Will, on the contrary, inhaled his meal with gusto. He offered Hannibal his plastic cup of sweet tea, and Hannibal’s face twisted in revulsion when the sugary drink hit his tongue. Will shrugged, mumbling something about ‘more for him.’ They sat at once of the woody picnic tables and ate, Will helping himself to Hannibal’s untouched fries. Before long, Will heard his group’s number being called out over the loudspeaker, and he hurried over to the side of the lake where a boat was being prepared, pulling on the gloves that were hanging out of his pocket.
Most of the groups participating were familiar with each other, but there were enough people that didn’t come with friends that they had sheets where you could sign up with strangers. Hannibal stood back as Will made introductions with the others that were preparing themselves, settling into camaraderie that they would need if they were going out together. Hannibal didn’t realize what Will was doing before he caught the shirt that the man had thrown at him, now standing in the boat entirely shirtless.
Some of the guys eyed the bullet wounds and scars on his torso, but nobody mentioned anything. Soon enough, the boat was untied and a man with a long, choppy haircut was steering the craft out into the middle of the lake. Hannibal was certain of his idea that this was a noodling competition, before all the men in the boat jumped into the water, one by one, including Will. Hannibal’s assumptions shifted to the possibility that this was some sort of water sport, as the men were now in the deep part of the lake, their heads and shoulders barely rising above the surface.
Hannibal watched with curiosity as they stretched their arms down, some even dipping their heads under in order to reach deeper into the muck. He couldn’t see much, the mud and dirt making the water murky . His eyes were mainly focused on Will, though, watching him slowly move, keeping his arm under and swaying it back and forth. None of the men were coming into contact with each other, they were merely situated in a misshapen circle, all carrying out the same behavior.
The sport idea Hannibal had conjured up died quickly, and his curiosity was peaked; the strange silence of the men in the water was evident, concentration etched upon their faces. A group had gathered, now, watching with similarly bated breath, as if they were waiting for something. It seemed like whatever activity they were engaging in took patience, and time stretched on as they searched under the water.
Hannibal was watching Will close enough that he recognized realization when it crossed the man’s face, and he drew the attention of the other men when he abruptly dove under the water. All of them stopped whatever they were doing, gathering around the spot where Will had disappeared. There was obviously something happening, as the previously still water was now churning and splashing, Will’s head breaking the surface before diving right back under.
Both the crowd and the men in the water were shouting, some on the shore even cheering. Whatever Hannibal was expecting when Will pulled up, it was not a giant, thrashing catfish that was securely latched onto Will’s arm, over half of it lodged down the beast’s throat. Will’s other hand was gripping under the gills, trying to keep a hold of its slippery flesh.
Every single one of Will’s muscles was straining and on display as he tried to wrangle the creature out of the water, and it was a display of sheer strength that kept the catfish from slipping away. It was thrashing viciously, trying to escape, but Will moved with the fish, keeping it from slipping back into the water.
Now that it was finally in view, the rest of the men lunged to control it, helping Will lug the massive thing into the boat. It took three of them to get it up on deck and into the long, metal basin that was set out . When he finally managed to get the thing secure, Will let out a loud, exhilarated woop, and the people around Hannibal mirrored Will’s excitement, shouting and cheering right along with him.
Will slumped back into one of the seats on the boat, chest heaving while the other men headed back out in the water. His mouth was split in the most genuine grin Hannibal had ever seen, radiating pure, untainted happiness. He caught Hannibal’s eye, and gave a tired wave, blowing him an exaggerated kiss. None of the others knew it was meant for Hannibal, though, and some of the women giggled.
Hannibal’s icy glare shifted towards the oblivious spectators, and when Will spotted the expression on Hannibal’s face, he threw his head back in what looked to be a laugh. What Hannibal would’ve given to hear it, but Will was too far out for him to catch anything.
They caught a few more fish in a similar fashion before steering the boat back to shore. The whole time, Will was gripping the edge of the boat, looking straight at Hannibal as they approached. When the vessel hit gravel, the men hopped out, and those of them with significant others rushed over to their people, sharing their excitement. Hannibal had only a second before Will did the exact same thing, leaping over the edge and striding over, surprising the taller man by dipping him back and placing a dramatic kiss right on his lips, Hannibal’s shirt getting wet from where Will’s hands held him.
A stupid grin was plastered over his face when Will pulled back, and Hannibal returned the look in earnest, skin flushed. Two of the men in Will’s group side-eyed them, but nothing else came of it, most of the surrounding people too busy trying to get a peek of their catch. A few of the event coordinators rushed over to fetch the fish, bringing them over to a large metal bin with their number painted on the side, writing down the weights that the men had recorded on a chalkboard nearby.
“That was certainly a surprise, Will.” Hannibal was still thinking of Will in the water, lithe, muscular body twisting around the catfish, wrestling it into submission. He handed Will’s shirt back, and watched as the man pulled it over his dripping chest.
Will laughed, still high off the adrenaline. “I had hoped it would be. I just had to see the reaction of fancy pants Doctor Lecter to my favorite childhood activity.” He took a towel that was offered by one of the attendants, scrubbing at his dripping curls.
The motion drew Hannibal’s eyes, and he noticed several red marks on the arm Will had down the catfish’s throat. He took his gently, glancing at the raw, scraped off skin with worry. “You’re hurt,” he frowned.
Following his gaze, Will finally seemed to notice the injuries. “Oh yeah, that’s no big deal. It’s kinda expected, honestly.” He jerked his thumb at several first aid tents closeby. “That’s why they have those set up.”
Hannibal followed behind Will towards the set ups, staring very clearly at the way Will’s drenched shorts clung to his skin, every movement was emphasized by the wet fabric. Will, who had glanced over his shoulder to make sure Hannibal was still there, caught him ogling.
“Really?” Will asked, rhetorically, eyebrow raised. Despite his attempts to appear annoyed, Will was amused by Hannibal’s obvious interest.
Shooing the nurse away with assurances that he was a doctor, Hannibal turned to where Will had hopped up on the table that was covered by fresh paper to maintain some form of cleanliness. The tools were individually packaged, so Hannibal was relieved that at least something here was sterile. He disinfected and treated Will’s wounds, wrapping them in bandages from the elbow to the wrist once he was finished.
Will eyed the bandages skeptically. “Is this really necessary?”
Hannibal fixed him with a stern look. “You’re not walking around this place with open wounds, Will.”
“They’re not even wounds! I just scraped my skin a bit,” he tried to reason, but Hannibal was evidently not going to budge.
Throwing up his hands in defeat, Will reached over to grab Hannibal’s shoulders and pull his body in so it slotted between Will’s thighs. They had partial privacy; the tents were sectioned off into different stations , so Will dragged Hannibal down for a filthy kiss. While nobody could see them, there were no actual walls to muffle the sound, so they stopped before anything got too heated.
Will explained that there were still a bunch of groups that had to go before they could start judging anything, so they had a few hours to kill. Hannibal let Will guide him to all sorts of festivities happening across the grounds. They walked through the aisles lined with tents, vendors selling anything from clothing and jewelry, to knives and machetes. Will dutifully visited every shop, pointing out anything that caught his eye.
It was like he was replaying his youth, his childish fascination over the varied trinkets making it apparent. Hannibal bought everything Will took a particular liking to, out of Will’s sight, of course. He knew if Will caught him making the purchases, he would feel guilty and stop showing interest in things in hopes that Hannibal wouldn’t buy them. To hide the growing collection, Hannibal had got one of the vendors to sell him a very high-quality knife made for gutting fish, having him put it in a bag big enough that he could fit other things inside without it being too conspicuous.
After they had frequented what seemed like every stall at the fair, Will’s next activity included a corn-on-the-cob eating contest. When he entered, Will had no intention of winning, he just wanted to participate. Hannibal was taken aback when the contestants started inhaling the corn at a nauseating pace, but he couldn’t bring himself to be disgusted when Will was having so much fun. He didn’t even manage to place, but there was no disappointment in his eyes when Will bounded down the platform’s stairs and over to Hannibal.
The heat was still present even when the sun began to move its way across the sky, dusk starting to approach the festival-goers. There were only a few groups that hadn’t gone yet, so to pass the remaining time, they headed over to the space in front of the stage where a band was playing, settling in amongst the people standing up to listen. The songs were ones that Will had heard before, playing out of the car radio from one of his dad’s many cassette tapes.
Standing side by side, Hannibal pulled him in with a hand around his middle, leaning his weight slightly so that they were gently rocking back and forth to the music. It was astonishingly peaceful, the crowd tuckered out from the day’s activities, the band playing slow, sultry song that complemented the darkening sky.
It was a moment that Hannibal would treasure forever, the warm weight of Will’s body tucked into his side as the smaller man rode the emotions of the music, broadcasting his happiness to Hannibal. Hannibal turned to place a kiss against Will’s curls, when their peace was disrupted.
Hannibal stumbled forward, teeth knocking against the top of Will’s head as someone shoulder-checked him, knocking him from behind. Will’s attention snapped to the person that pushed past them immediately, recognizing one of the two men that had side-eyed him when he kissed Hannibal, the other right by his side, hiding a snicker.
The man that had shouldered past briefly turned his head to spit at their feet before muttering something under his breath. Will felt Hannibal stiffen, and waves of quiet rage emanated from his rigid body, going completely unnoticed by the two men.
“Excuse me, I’m afraid I didn’t quite catch that.” Hannibal’s voice was polite, anybody but Will wouldn’t recognize the venom dripping from every syllable.The sheer fury in it made Will’s stomach clench.
“I said,” the man spat, raising his voice. “This is a family event, keep that disgusting shit to yourself, there’s kids around.”
Will was confused, not understanding for a moment. He went over everything they had been doing in his head, trying to figure out if they had accidentally done anything obscene. He realized, then, that they were in the deep south, and the mentality of the people he had grown up around was all too familiar. Will didn’t even think twice about kissing Hannibal, or holding his hand in public, it wasn’t something he had ever had to be afraid of before.
It was different, now that he was openly in a relationship with a man. They couldn’t do those kinds of things and expect everyone to be completely okay with it. He managed to avoid bigotry during his youth, mainly because there was no reason for people to reveal their ignorance around him, but that obviously wasn’t the case any more.
Hannibal’s eyes were icy-cold, fixing the men with an empty, shark-like stare. He stepped forward, and the two idiots stepped back instinctively. They had no clue of the bear they were clumsily thrusting a stick at, but some instinct in the back of their lizard-brains made them back off, shooting another disgusted look back at him and Will before disappearing into the crowd.
Will stopped Hannibal when he made a move to follow them. But, instead of asking him to drop it like Hannibal expected, Will whispered in his ear. “They have to come back for the prize ceremony, we’ll have another chance, don’t worry.”
Hannibal looked down at Will to see a wicked grin on his face, one that mirrored his own when he understood what Will was implying. Sure enough, when the announcement sounded over the loudspeakers after a few more songs, Hannibal spotted them again in the crowd that gathered around the stage. A woman with a microphone announced the winners for multiple categories like youth and women’s before it was Will’s turn to get up on stage with the rest of the men from the other groups.
After placing the third place medal over another contestant’s neck, the woman called out Will’s name, declaring that his fifty eight pound catfish had won second place. Another attendant standing next to the troughs with the fist lifted out the one Will had caught, handing it to him so they could take a picture for the local paper.
Will was practically beaming down at Hannibal when they snapped the photo, glowing with pride. After the first place winner got their photo taken, the rest of the men shuffled off the stage They were asked if they wanted to take the fish home or have them released, and to Hannibal’s surprise, most of them, including Will, asked that they return them to the water.
Noticing the question in Hannibal’s features, he explained that they had caught the catfish because they were burrowed in holes in the mud, protecting their eggs from predators, making them easy targets. It was just after breeding season, so if they wanted there to be a plentiful supply of fish that year, they had to let the catfish return to their nests to guard their young.
Satisfied with the answer, he motioned over to where he had spotted the men from before, now heading towards the parking lot. The two of them were leaning against an old truck, smoking cigarettes and engaging in idle conversation, watching as the cars filed out onto the road.
They stayed there for a while, waiting for all the families to leave to avoid the traffic, but Hannibal and Will had endless patience, watching from the shadows as they finally snubbed their butts on the ground and starting making their way around the truck. Hannibal nodded at Will, and they emerged behind the men, knocking their heads into the side of the bed, effectively rendering them unconscious.
Limited by time and resources, they couldn’t form an elaborate display, but that would’ve been counterproductive anyway, since they didn’t want a Ripper kill appearing in the place they had just taken a short vacation to. Instead, they hoisted the men into the back of their own truck, tying their wrists with some fishing line, and waiting until they gained consciousness.
It was dark out, and the place was deserted now that everyone had left, so they had little worry of being spotted.Thankfully, the men hadn’t hit their heads too hard, so they came to in about twenty minutes. The one that had spat at their feet started yelling immediately when he spotted them, shouting obscenities before he realized he couldn’t move his arms and legs, and his buddy was in a similar predicament.
Hannibal offered Will the knife he had purchased earlier, but Will shook his head. He motioned over to the man that had laughed when Hannibal had stumbled. Will remained silent, but Hannibal grinned. He lifted the man Will indicated by the hair, stretching out his neck for easy access. Before the louder man realized what was going on, Hannibal drew the knife across his friend’s jugular, spraying him with great gushes of blood that erupted from his throat. Choked, gurgling noises accompanied the man’s scream of terror, finally understanding the danger. The body fell with a thud next to him, dead, and the asshole started struggling violently.
The now-bloody knife was offered out to Will again, and this time he took it, descending on the shrieking figure in the truck bed. This time, when he slit the man’s throat, Will felt a rush he hadn’t when he had strangled the woman to death in Hannibal’s basement. He realized, then, that the missing piece had been his own twisted sense of justice, and he let the body drop next to the other, blood pouring down his unbandaged arm.
Hannibal watched with undivided attention as he experienced Will’s violent glory full force, the sight of him covered in blood was more than Hannibal could ever have imagined, ever could have hoped for. Will met Hannibal’s hungry eyes before they crashed together in a messy, bloody kiss. When they pulled back, panting, something finally clicked, and they were finally whole.