Archive of Our Own

“It’s completely humiliating.”

Dreary late-winter rain poured outside, stray droplets racing each other to the bottom of the foggy diner window. Through the hazy glass pane, Will could just make out the blur of traffic lights shifting color. The sound of each car turning the corner outside the diner, tires splashing through muggy water to soak the drab sides of the street. He huddled closer into his winter coat, rocking in an uncomfortable position on the diner’s red booth chairs. Beverly observed a nearby waitress as she sauntered over to give them both their coffees, and then Beverly her loaded cheese fries. 

“Look, it’s not as bad as you think it is,” Beverly grabbed a handful of the fries, stuffing her face like she was entirely starved. 

“It’s horrible.” Will sighed, snatching a few of Beverly’s fries from the basket. He chewed on one solemnly. “He doesn’t do so much as spare me a glance. He barely knows who I am outside of grading papers.”

“Come on , Will. You’re probably his star student.”

“He finds my abilities ‘fascinating’,” Will quirked his fingers in fake mid-air quotation marks. “Of course he does. He’s a psychiatrist, for fuck’s sake.” 

“It’s higher praise than nothing.” Beverly shrugged. “That’s like Doctor Lecter’s version of throwing himself at your feet and worshiping you God.”

Will took a sip of his coffee, wishing it was hot enough to burn off his tongue. “I’d prefer the latter. Spare me my dignity or so keep our interactions to five words.”

“You can’t spend your entire college life mourning over your stupid crush, Will. You’re a handsome guy! Go out to frat parties or something. Barhop with me and my girlfriends on weekends. There’s more to your existence here than three-thousand word papers due at midnight and our stupid psych professor.”

“I’d like to stick to what I know, thank you.”

A new waitress arrived at the table, handing Will a plate with the beetroot sandwich he’d ordered. He picked out the toothpick in his sandwich with an almost indecipherable look of annoyance on his face, mouth pressed in a flat line. He sat unimpressed as he watched the sandwich fall apart miserably on his plate without the toothpick for scaffold. 

Will Graham was a twenty-two year old Bachelor of Criminology with a minor in Psychology. His loyal but pushy roommate was twenty year old Beverly Katz, fellow peer in the same degree paths. Will didn’t often find himself enamored; but everything changed when he’d laid eyes on one of his professors, the great and mythical Doctor Hannibal Lecter. Beverly originally had no clue about his infatuation with the professor, but pushed him until he’d fessed up. Not that his crush wasn’t obvious from the start, of course.

Will picked apart through the bits of his deconstructed sandwich, pinching a small piece of beetroot and chewing on it bitterly. He took another sip of his coffee, the foam catching on the facial hair above his upper lip before he licked it off. 

“When I was fifteen, if you told me that at twenty I would be rooming with some guy who needs girl talk and debriefs every Thursday over his forty-year-old crush, I would’ve laughed in your face.” Beverly swallowed a few more fries. The basket was almost finished, revealing the grease-covered red and white checkered butcher paper underneath the food. 

“Whatever,” Will waved a hand dismissively, re-constructing his sandwich so he could take a good bite out of it. “How’s your paper going?”

“Reviewing psych intro? It’s fine, I guess.” She used a few fries to scoop up more cheese sauce on the butcher paper. “And by fine, I mean I haven’t even opened a new doc yet.”

“And you wonder why Doctor Lecter doesn’t like you.”

‘He doesn’t like anyone. Nine out of ten people on Rate My Professor tell you not to take his class unless you hate yourself.” 

“He’s not grumpy,” Will reasoned, defending the professor. “Or strict. You guys don’t realize he’s actually pretty fun. He just wants everyone to do the best they can, unlock their full potential. The new generation of psychologists and Bureau trainees will die on their first days when they realize starting papers two hours before they’re due doesn’t help them retain anything.” 

“Oh, boohoo. I’m Will Graham and I’m on top of everything because I’m in love with my sexy dilf professor and want him to notice me,” Beverly teased, finishing off the last fry for emphasis. “I see through your facade, you sly minx.” 

Will flushed a pretty pink. “Hey. Just because I’m a better student than you doesn’t mean I’m doing it for his approval. I’m not a… whore.” 

“Your words, not mine,” Beverly leaned back in her chair. 

“Either way, I’m not perfect. My grades are slipping.”

Beverly was actually surprised. “What? What happened? The semester only just started, you poor poppet!”

“I don’t know. I’m getting so close to graduation, I don’t want to slip and fuck everything up now. I keep getting… fevers and headaches.” 

“You should probably go to a doctor.”

“I don’t have insurance,” Will stared, unamused. “It’s fine. I just need an aspirin, shit, I don’t know. I’m surviving, but my grades slowly aren’t.” 

“Shit. Doctor Lecter’s gonna hate you.” Beverly feigned sympathy. 

“I hope not.”

“Don’t look nervous. I was just teasing you, Will. I can help you study.”

“We don’t do the same work.”

“But you’re in psych intro right now for this semester, right?” Beverly reasoned, snatching a beetroot that fell out of Will’s sandwich onto his plate. “We’re not covering the same material, but it’s similar enough. And Doctor Lecter is also my lecturer.” 

“I don’t know, Bev,” Will said in between bites of his sandwich, washing it down with his coffee. “I wouldn’t want to bother you. You have your own shit to focus on.”

“Nah, I’m fine. They didn’t call me a multitasker in highschool for nothing. Kids used to pay me to do their homework, and I still managed my own.”

“They didn’t call you a procrastinator in college for nothing. How are you gonna deal with my work when you can barely do your own?”

“Touché.”

“I’ll just keep taking painkillers. I’ll go to the doctors after graduation or something.” Will took the last bite of his sandwich, teeth working through the rough bread crust. “I admire Doctor Lecter. I don’t want him to be disappointed in me after telling me about my potential.” 

“He called you ‘a butterfly bound to hatch through the chrysalis.’” Beverly rolled her eyes. “I’ve had like fifteen boyfriends, and none of them have said anything as romantic as your forty-year-old professor. Trust me when I say he doesn’t have the capacity to be disappointed in you.” 

Will licked his fingers clean of beetroot juice, wiping them on the type of diner-issued icky brown napkins that leave a gross powder on your hands after using them. “I can feel the disappointment practically radiating off him every time I see him. It’s like he can smell the failure on me. If I’ve noticed my grades slipping, I can assure you, Doctor Lecter did before me.” 

“You’re such a negative Nancy. The man’s infatuated. I mean, as much as Doctor Lecter has the ability to show infatuation. Maybe he’ll tell you to stay after class.” 

Will shivered. Beverly had purposefully tapped into one of his greatest unrealistic fantasies, laughing to herself. “One part of me wishes he would, another more logical part of me doesn’t want him to lose his job, license, and reputation.”

“Are we splitting the bill?”

“Nah, let me treat you,” Will said, reaching for his wallet. 

“You can’t even pay for a doctor’s appointment. We’re splitting the bill, Graham.”

⋯ ୨˚୧ ⋯

“And, please, put your introduction review at the top of your priority lists. I have incredibly high expectations for each and every one of you as well as our class average. Thank you.”

Chatter resumed as Doctor Hannibal Lecter wrapped up his second lecture of the final semester. There was a buzz among the lecture hall, fourth year students piling out of the large wooden double-doors, exclaiming their excitement pertaining to graduation in just a few months. Will took time gathering his things, always right at the back of the classroom. He zipped his laptop back into its protective case, shuffling through his physical study notes and placing them into an organized folder. He adjusted his glasses and swung his leather messenger bag back over his shoulder. 

Doctor Lecter was hunched in front of his desk, the blackboard still displaying the last slide of his presentation, the bottom of the projection catching on the top of his head. As Will approached the double doors, the corner of the projection caught on him, as well, the light bouncing off of him and reflecting in Doctor Lecter’s eyes as the professor raised his head from the papers he was shuffling. 

“Mr Graham,” Doctor Lecter quickly said, causing Will to stop in his tracks. It was just the two of them left in the lecture hall, alone. Will’s cheeks heated up, turning around to face his professor, who had since shifted his attention back to organizing papers. “Just a moment.”

“What is it, Sir?” Will swallowed, his throat awfully dry. 

“You’re not in trouble,” Doctor Lecter finished with his papers, sliding them neatly onto the top left corner of his desk. Staying orderly was of utmost importance to him. “I merely need to have a conversation with you.”

“Okay.” 

Hannibal came out from behind his desk, approaching Will. Will almost shrunk out of intimidation, but still stood his ground, biting the inside of his cheek. Will could’ve sworn maybe he was somehow hallucinating; but with the faintest of motions, Doctor Lecter’s nostrils flared as he so subtly leaned in, and if Will blinked in that moment, he could’ve missed it. When Doctor Lecter leaned away, he had a barely concealed expression of curiosity and something almost regarding concern. 

“Did you just smell me?” Will rudely asked before his brain could stop him. 

“My apologies,” Doctor Lecter quickly regained composure. His amber eyes twinkled behind his reading glasses as if he were in thought. “Will, I’m concerned about your grades. Is there anything in particular that you are struggling with? I would hate for you to fail your finals after the years of commitment you have shown in my class.” 

Doctor Lecter wouldn’t tell him; but he’d smelled the budding fumes of something sweet and heady. 

Will sighed. “No, Sir. There’s nothing I’m struggling with in particular. I think I’ve lost my balance.” 

“I am to be your paddle, Will. You can be honest with me. Are there personal pressures or influences that your mind is tortured by? Anything you can think of that has made your work suffer?” 

“No. It just happened. Something clicked in me and I’ve lost all I’ve learnt.” 

“Tell me, Will,” Doctor Lecter stepped closer. “Have you been suffering from headaches? Fevers? Loss of time? Hallucinations? Forgive me if my suspicions are mistaken…but I may know the root of your problems.” 

Doctor Lecter wasn’t planning to share his discovery with Will, but seeing the desperation in his eyes and hearing the pleading of his words almost changed his mind. He could experiment with this. 

“I suppose so…” Will trailed off. “Nothing so major as hallucinations, though. I was planning to go to the doctors after graduation.” He purposefully failed to mention the lack of money he has. 

“Will, you can decline my offer if it is what you wish, but I believe it to be in your best interests. Would you mind if I tutored you? I require no payment whatsoever. I want to see you thrive, Will. I am your guidance and the key to your potential. I want to assist you outside of my lectures.” 

Will stammered. His jaw almost dropped in surprise, face heating up from a mixture of embarrassment that he was doing so badly his professor was this concerned for him, and a tinge of adoration.  “...I couldn’t possibly accept that. I don’t want to waste your time.” 

“My time would not be wasted. I am an honest man. I would have not offered you this opportunity if I was under the impression that it wouldn’t benefit you to get back on the pathway to success.” 

“I-” I don’t want handouts, or your pity, Will wanted to say, but he knew Doctor Lecter would find that terribly rude. A concern stemming from childhood, the inability to accept help, even if it would ease him. “I can’t, Sir.”

“Why not?”

“You have plenty of other students who need your help. Why me?” 

Hannibal smiled, the barest glimpse of fangs. He reminded Will of a cat. “Your reluctance to accept my help, Will, is adorable as it is admirable. You needn’t worry. I have all of the time in the world to help you and any of your peers as I see fit. I must be honest, though, you are the only one I have ever offered this to. I see a pathway in you, and in you specifically. You have a talent and an affinity I have never seen in anyone else before. You are bound to hatch into something beautiful. I would never forgive myself if I didn’t nurture it.” 

That was the greatest thing anyone had ever said to him. 

“Okay.” Will said stupidly. He didn’t know what else to say. “At what time and day?” 

“I can meet you in the library at four in the afternoon each Friday. My faculty meetings at the end of the week usually end around three-thirty, and that will provide plenty of leniency for the both of us. Tutoring sessions will last for forty-five minutes. Unless you have something in the way of your schedule at that time, Will?” 

“No, no, that sounds perfect…” 

“Good,” Doctor Lecter purred. “I shall see you tomorrow afternoon, then.” 

When Will stepped out of the lecture hall, he could only think of two things. What the hell just happened? And, I can’t wait to tell Beverly.

⋯ ୨˚୧ ⋯

Huddled in a little corner of the library was Will Graham and Doctor Hannibal Lecter. Beverly was on watch in another area of the library, working on her own paper as she subtly observed the tutoring session from afar. Will told her not to, but as nosy as she is, she insisted. 

“Foundations of psychology,” Doctor Lecter announced as Will opened up the Canvas page on his laptop. “Demonstrating how research and major theories in psychology contribute to a thorough understanding of human behavior, grasping principles of perception, thinking, language, intelligence, consciousness, psychological disorders, and treatment. Critically evaluating psychological theory on the basis of available evidence, and applying psychological phenomena to the everyday context of people’s lives.” 

Will scrolled through the Canvas page, reading through the material. He felt a bit fussy, still angry that he was sacrificing his professor’s free time; however he recognized that Hannibal was not only his crush, but also his authority figure; and he must listen. “I’ve already started my paper and I understand what I’m meant to do, Doctor Lecter.” 

“Good. And have you read the pages I assigned?” 

“Yes, multiple times. I can’t exactly wrap my head around the principles. Everything else, the constructions of the material are so easy for me to understand, the scaffolding. But it’s all so subjective. I use my empathy to provide me with the scaffolding the material doesn’t provide, but I guess my ability has been so…hindered as of late.” 

“Do you wish to re-read the pages with me right now, Will?” 

“I guess,” Will murmured, switching over to a different tab on his computer as the professor watched the screen from over his shoulder. He looked over the words on the PDF closely. 

“Because values cannot be considered to be either true or false, science cannot prove nor disprove them… Nevertheless, as shown in table one-point-one, examples of values and facts in scientific research, research can sometimes provide facts that can help people develop their values. Science may be able to objectively measure the impact and the effect of capital punishment on… shit, fuck…” 

Will held his head in his hands, wincing from blinding pain. He shut his eyes tightly, inhaling shakily, gritting his teeth. Hannibal instantly separated his eyes from the screen, rubbing a soothing hand over his student’s back. “Will? Are you alright?” He sounded a tad panicked. 

“Yes,” Will hissed, but the pain grew greater. His hands tightened into fists as he dug his nails into the skin of his forehead, trying to grapple with the torturous throb in his mind. “I have a painkiller in my bag, in the little plastic container..” 

Hannibal urgently grabbed Will’s messenger bag from under the desk, searching through the dozens of pockets until he found the container that Will was describing. He almost stood up to offer him a cup from the library water cooler before Will dry swallowed the pill, and Doctor Lecter sat back down. “...It must cause you mild discomfort, swallowing the medicine without lubrication.” 

“No, it’s fine, I’ve been doing it since forever,” Will winced, trying to cope and brace himself. “Just give me a moment.”

Doctor Lecter obeyed his wishes; but only for a moment. After a minute and a half of silence, he raised his hand, holding his palm against Will’s forehead. Will lifted his head in a daze, gazing into Doctor Lecter’s eyes as he applied more pressure. Sweaty and warm, Doctor Lecter noted. 

“Feverish,” He murmured, taking his hand back. Of course, he secretly knew of Will’s condition, and this only affirmed it. He took one more subtle whiff of Will’s tantalizing scent, sweetly and intoxicatingly laced in sickness. Will looked completely and utterly tempting, slipping in and out of consciousness, eyes tiredly drooping as a bead of sweat dripped down the side of his cheek. “Will, are you alright? Can you still pay attention to me?” 

Will opened his eyes reluctantly, hazy blue eyes gazing into Doctor Lecter’s intrigued amber ones. “Yes, I’m alright. Just suddenly sleepy.” 

Hannibal bit his tongue, trying to hold himself back. But he couldn’t bear to see the younger man suffer anymore, no matter how gorgeous he was in this state. He couldn’t unlock Will’s full potential anymore when his mind and his physicality were ruthlessly tortured. “You seem to be quite sick, Will. Let me prescribe you something that will help much more than the painkillers you are currently taking. And if it still worsens, I must insist that you go to the hospital.” 

“I can’t. I don’t have the money.” 

“Then at least let me write you a script. Please,” Hannibal sighed. 

“I’m not your patient, Doctor Lecter,” Will bit back, feisty, voice groggy and rough from the phlegm caught in his throat. 

“Don’t fuss,” Doctor Lecter critiqued. “You may not be my patient, but I absolutely insist on it, Will. I must get you a paracetamol. Usually these are over the counter, but I will prescribe you the absolute strongest dosage that I legally can. Please, come back to my office. I will help you up and assist you in walking. I have scripts in the drawer of my desk.” 

“Shit… okay,” Will surrendered. Hannibal frowned and shut his laptop, zipping it up in the protective case and putting it back into his bag for him. He swung Will’s bag over his shoulder, looking at Will closely for permission to reach his arms under his shoulders. Will nodded mindlessly, addressing consent. Hannibal lifted him up from the chair with a soft huff, bringing Will’s arm around his shoulders so he could support him. “I’m sorry. My whole body feels hot. I can’t really think or… coordinate my feet.” 

“It’s quite alright, Will. I am worried about you.” Hannibal reassured him. 

He walked them out of the library with care, uttering sweet nothings every time Will repeatedly apologized, the younger man feeling clearly awful at the prospect of having to be taken care of. It was even worse than it appeared on the surface for Will; considering his secret romantic tendencies concerning the professor. His face wasn’t pink just from the fever he possessed, but also in reaction to the way Doctor Lecter so intimately touched him as he hurried him back to his office, ushering him along the way so gently. 

Worst of all, Beverly had witnessed that all. She was still back in the library, giggling to herself like a schoolgirl, momentarily distracted before she went back to studying. 

⋯ ୨˚୧ ⋯

When their second tutoring session came around, Will was on a heavy dose of the paracetamol that Doctor Lecter had so graciously prescribed and provided him with the money for. Beverly teased Will relentlessly, calling him Doctor Lecter’s sugar baby. He’d protested against the title, but it also made him flush hopefully.

Unlike Doctor Lecter had promised, his headaches worsened. The fevers, too. There was one big, flashing problem; they still hadn’t gone away. Of course, Will didn’t expect everything to be fixed for him within a week of taking the medication, but realistically speaking, he should’ve been much farther along. The fact that the sickness was still persisting after such a long period of time was an undeniable and haunting red flag. And he was way too terrified to tell Doctor Lecter that it wasn’t working.

On Thursday after a lecture, the professor asked how Will was doing, provided he’d gotten the paracetamol immediately after he’d received the prescription. Will had, but of course, hadn’t had the results they hoped for; so he lied, telling the Doctor that he was just peachy.

Hannibal had sniffed him again, and Will awkwardly had to act like he didn’t notice. As a result of his subtle sniff test, Doctor Lecter looked doubtful, but nodded in acceptance to Will’s answer. 

Will had dug a hole for himself and had no way out. 

“You did an incredible job on your paper,” Doctor Lecter complimented as they sat down for their next session in the library. “I am very impressed to find out that my assistance has been of great use.”

“Yeah,” Will smiled, already feeling another headache coming on. “Thank you so much, Doctor Lecter.” 

“As of yesterday’s lecture, we have been focusing on biopsychology. If you may open the Canvas page, we can focus on the reading I’ve assigned. I expect you would have done it last night, especially considering you’re doing better with the paracetamol dose, but we shall look over it together either way. Think of it like training wheels.” 

Will opened the Canvas page, spending a very brief amount of time looking over it and pretending he understood it in the midst of a raging headache before he clicked on the provided textbook PDF. 

Will cleared his throat, trying to focus his gaze on the text, his head practically throbbing. 

“Biological explanations of behavior fall into several categories, including physiology, development, evolution, and function… Nearly all current philosophers and neuroscientists reject the idea that the mind exists independently of the brain… the question remains as to how and why brain activity is linked to consciousness… The expression of a given gene depends on the environment and on interactions with other genes, and…” 

Will paused for a moment, swallowing, trying to balance himself. He could feel Hannibal’s cold, suspicious gaze unwavering over him, the clink of his teeth gritting together. 

Will continued. “Of all the questions that people ask, two stand out as the most profound and the most difficult… One of those questions deals with physics, and the other pertains to the relationship between physics and psychology… Philosopher Gottfried Leibniz posed the first question… Why is there something rather than nothing?... It would seem that nothingness would be the default state, evidently, the universe had to be self-created, which is baffling, but a subordinate question is more amenable to discussion… our universe has protons, neutrons, and electrons with particular dimensions, and… and…” 

Will trailed off once more, this time with an unmistakable moan of complete pain. Doctor Lecter grit his teeth even harder. Will let out a sob, holding his head in his hands once more, reminiscent of last week. 

For some odd reason, although he had purposefully kept Will’s condition from his knowledge to experiment and attain information out of curiosity; Hannibal’s chest throbbed at the sight, his heart weeping and aching at witnessing the younger man’s painstaking suffering. Hannibal took in a deep breath, subtly intaking the encephalitis-ridden fumes, sugary like candy, still inebriating like the finest and richest of wines. 

Uncharacteristically, Hannibal considers putting pause on his experiment. 

“Will,” Hannibal started, nervous and reluctant. “I must usher you off of the paracetamol. It is clear to me now that your state has only worsened.” 

“No… No, Doctor Lecter, don’t worry. It’s all perfectly fine.” 

“Only it isn’t, and that is transparent,” Hannibal persisted. “You cannot do work or study in this state. Will, I must tell you something that you are very much unaware of, but I have been of for quite some time, and you must forgive me as your professor that I did not inform you of it until now.”

“...Uh-Huh?” 

“Will, you have encephalitis. I am unsure of what has caused it or what the categorization of it is, but I have been smelling it on you and noticing the more extreme symptoms since before I began tutoring you. It is clearly worsening to life-threatening levels past the beginning stages, progressing much quicker than I consciously thought it ever would, and I insist that you allow me to pay for you to stay in the hospital and have an MRI scan.” 

Will didn’t know what to say.

“...What the fuck?” 

⋯ ୨˚୧ ⋯

To apologize for everything after Will’s formal diagnosis, Hannibal paid personally for the most luxurious suite in Johns Hopkins. After the incident during their tutoring session, Doctor Lecter escorted Will to Noble Hills Health Center for an MRI, where after his diagnosis, Will was transferred into Johns Hopkins. 

Oddly enough, Doctor Lecter felt awful for what he’d done; keeping Will’s condition a heavily concealed secret. He didn’t usually feel sympathy whenever he’d mucked up. Hannibal usually considered himself above apologies found in genuinity that weren’t warranted by politeness. 

However, he’d gone the extra mile to make it up to Will. Will was different from everyone else. Hannibal would never dare admit it to anyone, but with his flair for the taboo and the forbidden, he’d found himself wholeheartedly attracted to Will. His romantic affinity was so passionate and powerful, one outsider could even possibly call it love. Unfortunately, this terrified him. Hannibal hated the vulnerability that came with these feelings. But he wanted nothing more than to court his beautiful student, even with the unhealthy amount of power he held over him and the legality preventing it. 

Every single day for the past week Will had been in hospital, slipping in and out of consciousness, fevers and migraines dying down as his treatment slowly progressed, so out of his head he couldn’t even protest when he found out Hannibal had paid off all of his bills and ensured the utmost best of treatment and healthcare; Doctor Lecter came in and brought him lunch. 

The meal changed every day. One day, in his warming tote, he would carry an absolutely mouthwatering stir fry. The next, caramelized onions and steak, carefully cut up so Will could easily digest it as Hannibal sat by his bed and handfed him. Even Beverly had only visited Will one singular time, and yet Doctor Lecter continued coming every single day during his barely flexible lunch break. 

Will’s crush on him grew stronger. Hannibal’s own infatuation with Will grew stronger, as well. 

He helped him keep up with his work, too. During lunch breaks, Doctor Lecter would ensure that Will would not fall back on his work before graduation. He brang physical copies of each textbook necessary, marking the pages for future reference. He would read them out to Will, of course; and when Will was strong and aware enough to process the words, he’d write a bit of his next paper with Hannibal’s assistance. He would always leave the textbooks on Will’s bedside table, and each night, the pile would slowly grow, expensive pink and green sticky-note tags poking out from between the pages; making them look well-used. 

Hannibal put an immense amount of care and time into certifying that he was providing a worthy, genuine apology. He wouldn’t be mad at Will if he failed to forgive him, nor would he blame him for doing such a thing. He’d hurt him severely. He disobeyed everything he was meant to stand for as a teacher and mentor, even if his morality wasn’t set in stone. 

“Smells delicious.” 

Hannibal smiled, placing his warming tote on the floor by the bedside table. He gave a subtle glance at the textbooks on top and was internally pleased to notice that they were clearly being well used. He reached into the tote, pulling out a tupperware and opening the lid. He reached into the tote again and pulled out a spoon, as well. 

“Silkie chicken in a broth,” Doctor Lecter began, “A black-boned bird prized in China for its medicinal values since the seventh century. Wolfberries, ginseng, ginger, red dates, and star anise.” 

Will smiled. “You made me chicken soup.” 

Hannibal paused for a moment, tupperware in hand. He looked off to the corner of the room, ruminating over the comment in his mind. “...Yes.” 

Hannibal placed the tupperware and spoon on the bedside table, shifting over to a corner of the room to fetch some napkins. Will sat up in his bed, observing the older man’s back as he moved. 

“I’m able to get out of bed now,” Will spoke up, “you don’t have to spoon feed me anymore.”

Hannibal paused yet again. “Oh,” he hummed, resuming his movements. “You may join me at the table, then. I brought some broth of my own, as well as some side dishes.”

Hannibal assisted Will over to the table, a supporting hand under his arm. He brought over the tupperware and cutlery and placed it in front of Will, and went back over to bring the warming tote over to the table as well. From there, he picked out his own tupperware, and the two began to sip on their satisfyingly hot soups in momentary silence.

“This is delicious, thank you,” Will muttered in between bites of the side dishes, teeth working through softly boiled rice. In the middle of the table was a side dish of baechu kimchi, an odd pairing with the flavourful chicken broth itself but complimentary to the boiled white rice. 

“It’s no worries,” Hannibal took a bite of kimchi, his chopstick skills incredibly advanced. “You’re due to be discharged soon, Will. Your recovery has been superb and I’ve heard nothing but the best from the nurses here. However, I fear that I will miss this little routine we have established. I was quite enjoying delivering you your lunches and reading to you, assisting you with your college work.”

Hannibal sounded upset as he confessed, feigning indifference. Will frowned and pushed his tupperware away, swallowing the rest of the sip of it he’d just taken. “I can’t be dishonest, I was a little irritated by it at first. I was especially annoyed at you because you hid my condition from me.” 

“...I’m sorry, Will.” 

“But you were so kind to me, Doctor Lecter. You made me feel less…lonely in here. Being cooped up in hospital is just so embarrassing and stressful. Your lunches were… delicious. And the textbooks you provided helped me so much with the material I’m missing.” 

Hannibal smiled faintly, and Will could’ve sworn it was almost bashful . “I’m incredibly happy to hear that, Will,” he spoke hopefully. He took a sip of his broth, lightly swishing it through his mouth so he could fully appreciate the depths and complexity of the flavor. “I am a curious man at heart. Philosophers question things not only because they doubt something, but also because they are attracted to the mystery of the subjectivity of seemingly solving it. While my goal with my penchant for inquiry and learning is never to solve something, it has an element of familiarity, as I intend to instead answer an internal question I’ve kept to myself. My objective when I hid your illness from you was not malicious; it was feeding into that curiosity. And I have learnt that I should rid of that bad habit.” 

Will finished his broth with a fulfilled hum. “Philosophers doubt something because the people around them are so stupid it becomes perplexing. But little do the philosophers know, they are equally as stupid– because who has the money to pay off student debt and chooses philosophy? ”

“What are you saying, Will?” 

“Life is one big circle of accusing each other of being stupid and then being equally as. I forgive you, Doctor Lecter. I admire your curiosity. I shouldn’t be… offended that you’re the smartest person in the room. Sure, it was pretty shitty, but there are worse things you could’ve done with that information.” 

Will didn’t really forgive him, but he wanted to push the issue aside and move on. Doctor Lecter could sense this; but he smiled either way. 

“Thank you, Will. I am glad to hear that.” 

“It’s a bit greek, ” Will swallowed a mouthful of rice and kimchi, “but you’re lucky that you’re my favorite professor.”

They sat in another bout of silence until Hannibal took the last bite of kimchi, savoring the deliciously spicy tang of the gochugaru and chili flakes. It was incredibly well fermented, and considering that Asian cuisine was Hannibal’s favorite, was something he was now tempted to re-make for dinner tomorrow tonight with another psychology faculty member. He lifted his gaze from the empty dishes to look at Will, who was staring at him. He didn’t seem embarrassed that he was caught admiring the professor, instead continuing with the action; barely even moving an inch, breath shallow. 

“Who are we kidding?” Will sighed, staring into Hannibal’s amber eyes. 

In a blink-and-you-miss-it moment, Will leaned closer over the table with a soft exhale. The movement was very slight, an act out of curiosity, urging Hannibal to mirror his own actions. Hannibal immediately knew what Will was hinting at; he wasn’t stupid. He’d sensed for long, ever since they began their tutoring sessions, that there was underlying tension.

Hannibal wasn’t adverse to this, however if you asked him, he’d tell you that he were. Saving face, he supposed. He was a much worse man on the inside than the man he wore on his skin and his outer layers. He couldn’t lie in his head that he hadn’t begun tutoring Will on purpose, attracted to his mind and his incredibly odd and rare empathetic abilities, the most impressive he’d ever seen in his class. 

Hannibal was unconventional by all standards. He didn’t have a set of morals in place. He walked the Earth with new situational rules each day. Something so much as a power dynamic between him and someone who caught his attention was of little concern, at least, not to the man he presented as on the surface. He would be honest and admit he may have pulled some strings and tutored Will to nurture that attraction. He didn’t know it’d ever blossom, but being close to the brilliant boy’s mind was more than enough. This mutual reciprocation was simply a bonus that Hannibal could enjoy as an emphatically indulgent mortal pleasure. 

Their breaths mingled as Hannibal slowly leaned over the table as well; following with the faintest brush of lips, not quite interlocked just yet. Hannibal savored the closeness he had to Will without completing the intimate action, swallowing shallowly. 

“This is wildly inappropriate,” Hannibal whispered against his skin, but didn’t protest when Will took it into his own hands and kissed him gently. 

The kiss quickly deepened as soon as it had started when Will grabbed onto the lapels of Hannibal’s intricately tailored suit jacket, sending him reaching over the dishes on the table, clawing at him with pent-up desperation. Hannibal groaned, no longer reserved, fingers reaching up into Will’s brown curls and massaging gently through them with carnal need and bone-deep desire. 

He could taste the remnants of the food as he licked into his mouth; the distinct silkie chicken broth and the spicy kimchi. Will moaned, hospital gown riding up his thighs as Doctor Lecter leaned even further into his chair, tongue exploring the ridges of his teeth, ignoring the prominence of his plaque, practically growling into his mouth. 

They pulled away for air. 

“I like you,” Will panted, curls wild, soft brown wisps flying in every direction. 

Hannibal’s cheeks were flushed, lips kiss-bitten and bruised. “I can’t do this to you, Will. You are my student. I have an immense position of responsibility over you, regardless of any attraction I may feel.” 

“Don’t,” Will quickly shushed him. “You never cared about the rules, did you?” 

Hannibal couldn’t argue again when Will kissed him once more.

⋯ ୨˚୧ ⋯

After what had happened between them in the hospital, things changed instantly. After a month or so of treatment, Will was finally discharged and released into the wild. Beverly was there to greet him in the lobby with an aggressive hug and a run-down of everything Doctor Lecter had done while he was in Johns Hopkins, the girl obviously unaware that Will already knew everything she’d listed; in fact, he’d begun dating the man.

He wouldn’t tell her, not before graduation, but he could enjoy the secret that he and his professor were able to keep together and act clueless in the meantime. 

According to Beverly; Doctor Lecter had supposedly mentioned Will many times in class. He’d referenced many of his student-written papers, more specifically two he’d completed in the hospital, an impressive and committed feat unlike he had seen from anyone in his class before. He was of the opinion that Will’s work was genuinely publishable ; and that it was to be the standard that he set for all of the students that attended his lectures and completed the work he assigned. 

Of course, Will already knew that. Hannibal offered just a week ago to publish Will’s paper on biopsychology to a prestigious science research journal, with Hannibal credited as a co-writer, having edited it thoroughly and made some of his own educated points. But of course, having the first writing credit was the biggest deal out of them all; so Will couldn’t complain whatsoever. Credit was due where it was due.  

By the time Will made it back to classes after another week of recovery in the dorms, tutoring sessions turned into study dates, and staying after class turned into lunch together. Will was fearful that now he was discharged, Hannibal wouldn’t cook his delicious food for him anymore; but every single day, they ate together in Hannibal’s office with a variety of even more lovingly made food. 

Their relationship grew gradually. On weekends, Will would sometimes even go to Hannibal’s home, and he’d cook a nice dinner for him. A month or so into their relationship was when things became sexual over a particularly sensual dinner, and they’d never finished dessert before Hannibal bent Will over the table and had him for dessert instead of the key lime pie. 

It was becoming thrilling , being with Hannibal. Sleeping with him, being treated by him. Will never could’ve imagined this. His life now was full of the different types of scenarios he usually would’ve fallen asleep to just mere months ago. Now he was living it, and he couldn’t be more grateful and disoriented that any of it was happening.

Sneaking behind everyone’s backs was perhaps one of the most thrilling parts, as well. Will had never been a bad kid, he’d grown up poor and had taken to stealing food for him and his ‘pa, but that was arguably the most of it. Sure, he’d punched a bully once or twice, but his ‘pa taught him that part too. The memories made him laugh fondly. This , however, brought him back to that. Running behind closed doors, sneaking kisses after every lecture, subtle slaps on the ass and lighthearted laughs when they passed each other in the hallways. 

Doctor Hannibal Lecter, on the surface, seemed incredibly respectable and thus relatively well behaved. A very classic gentleman, always chivalrous, always polite, always speaking in leveled tones and incredibly linguistic educated language. However, the Hannibal that Will knew, was a complete delinquent. 

“The cognitive approach emphasizes that a person’s behavior depends on the way he or she perceives the social situation. Kurt Lewin applied Gestalt ideas to social psychology, emphasizing the importance of the social environment as perceived by the- fuuuuck… ”

Situated on the bed inside of Will’s dorm room, was he and his boyfriend's tutoring session. Hannibal mounted Will like they were animals, holding him down by the juts of his hips. Will was lying on his front, glasses fogging up on his face with each deep breath, social psychology textbook on the pillow by the wall in eyeview. He was meant to read it out, Hannibal playing with his hole as he did. And slowly, after granted consent, Hannibal slipped his thick cock inside, dripping pre at its uncut tip, smearing it around as lube when he pushed his way in. 

Will dropped the book from his hands, glasses close to slipping off the bridge of his nose and off his face. Beverly, of course, was out with some friends, leaving Will and Hannibal to do as they pleased. They were both fully dressed, but Hannibal had his belt undone and fly unzipped to make way for his cock, and Will had his pants and underwear around his ankles. Will gripped the sheets of his bed tightly with white knuckles, gasping and knocking the glasses off his face once Hannibal fully bottomed out inside. The glasses fell onto the page of the textbook he had opened, and Hannibal reached around Will’s body from where he was mounting him so he could lovingly and wordlessly place them back on. 

“Come on, move,” Will demanded, panting and wiggling his hips. Hannibal pressed his lips in a straight line from behind him, grabbing the boy’s thin waist to hold him in place. 

He hummed as Will whined once more, a bratty but tempting complaint. 

“You know what the agreement is, cunning boy. Keep reading, and I’ll do as you wish.” 

Will groaned, the glasses slipping off his face once more as he writhed in his boyfriend’s grip, disobeying him. Hannibal tutted disapprovingly and pushed the glasses back up the bridge of his nose, pointing a sharp fingernail at the line Will had stopped reading at. A direction. 

Will sighed. “In Lewin’s view, behavior is affected by both-” 

Suddenly, Hannibal pulled out, before his cock breached Will’s tight walls once more. Will cut himself off with a carnal groan, ripped straight out from his throat in raw reaction as Hannibal’s thickness hit the sweetest spots inside of him. Immediately following, he let out a breathy moan once his boyfriend targeted the spot yet again, so purely submissive. Hannibal groaned, as well, so impressed by his boy’s natural perfection and eventual obedience.

“If you stop reading, I will pull out of you and leave, Will.” 

“ Hah,” Will panted breathlessly. “Where was I?... Affected by both the individual’s personal characteristics- Ah!- such as ability, personality, and… fuck… genetic dispositions…” 

“So smart,” Hannibal purred into his ear. He slammed into him, earning him a yelp from underneath, his sac slapping heavy against the cleft of Will’s ass. “It’s no wonder you’re my star student. Such a pretty little multitasker, isn’t that right, lamb?” 

“And by the- s-social environment, as he or she perceives it… Hannibal…” 

His glasses were slipping off his face once more, completely fogged up at this point as beads of sweat dripped down his forehead. One droplet even trickled down onto a page of the textbook, and Hannibal groaned at the sight, driving in another incredibly hard thrust that hit the boy’s prostate dead-on. Hannibal pushed the glasses up his nose once more, completely attentive to all of his needs. Will could feel himself melting in his hands like putty, so blissful and at peace, so happy to finally have a man he could depend on unlike how his father had been during childhood. It’s not to say his father was absolutely horrible, he did the best of what they were given, but there was barely much to go off of. It was a relief, either way, and a subconscious craving Will subsequently developed from a youthful age. Letting go and leaving everything to someone else. To be taken care of.

“Keep going. You’re so close, aren’t you? You’re doing so good. I’m feeling close myself, Will. Keep reading, and I’ll give you your sweet release.” 

Will practically sobbed. “A core idea in the cognitive perspective is that people tend spontaneously to group and categorize objects… Hannibal… In a library, you see a row of books on a shelf as a unit, not so many individual books. You likely perceive other people in the library as groups, perhaps as students and librarians, or as the line of people at the checkout desk, or as a… Hannibal, I’m gonna fucking cum, I’m…I’m gonna…” 

Will was babbling at that point, running his mouth as words blurred into each other and sentences blurred into unintelligibility. Hannibal slammed in one, two more times, rubbing at the head of Will’s throbbing red cock, so unbelievably hard it was almost purple; and he came. Spurts of white stickiness shot all across his abdomen, a drop even reaching up to the frames of his glasses, a few spurts soaking the textbook pages. 

Will allowed his body to relax, sighing as every limb he had twitched in satisfaction, smiling weakly when he completely drooped onto the bed; hands falling from the textbook and glasses falling off his face. Hannibal gripped his bony hips, taking his own pleasure, sending sparks of overstimulation up Will’s spine as his cock rubbed back and forth against his sensitive hole and he massaged at his perineum with a thumb. He sped up, groaning, gasping for air, until suddenly he came inside the boy, and Will let out a guttural groan at the same time as the older man when he felt the warmth fill him. 

Hannibal couldn’t hold himself up any longer, arms trembling as he fell on top of Will softly with a grunt. His cock was quickly softening inside him, but the warmth around him was intoxicating, and the intimacy that filled and bounced off of the four walls of Will’s dorm was still stirring. 

Will let out a satisfied moan, feeling Hannibal’s cock twitch inside of him again, reminding him that his boyfriend was still there, filling him up. They were both exhausted , neither of the two men making any effort to move or to go and clean up. Despite the fact he was still dressed head to toe in an impeccable plaid suit, minus the unzipped fly; Doctor Lecter was sweaty and red-faced, panting on top of Will, strands of hair sticking to his head and also floating around messy and askew. 

“Best tutoring session ever,” Will groaned.

“Let’s get you cleaned up.”

Beverly noticed something was up. Of course she did; she always does. She’s about as in tune with how Will is feeling as he is with himself. It was the next day after he and Hannibal had sex in the dorm for the first time, particularly playful and rebellious. Beverly came home plastered that night, and Will had to assist her as she heaved over the toilet bowl, holding her long hair over her head. 

Will had what Beverly had called an ‘after sex glow‘ in her drunken stupor, commenting on his chirper demeanor and willingness to actually help her out for once after a night out. Will’s heart dropped a little, mind ruminating over all the possible ways he could ruin Hannibal’s career if their secret came out; but Beverly never commented on it again that night as she went back to throwing up. 

The next morning, Will had forgotten all about it. He was at the dining table, made of some weird Swedish maple wood or whatever the salesperson at Ikea lamented, eating a piece of buttered raisin toast and sipping on a sad cup of black coffee. 

Beverly entered the kitchen, stretching as she left her room. She was dressed in the silky top Will bought her for her last birthday in November. As she went to prepare her morning oats, she stopped in her tracks. 

With a mouthful of toast, Will realized she was staring at him. He quickly swallowed his bite and cocked his head curiously. “What?” 

Beverly hummed, eyebrows furrowed as she opened the fridge to fetch the skim milk. “Something’s off about you, Graham.”

Will flushed upon the reminder of memories from yesterday. “...Okay.” 

“No, seriously,” Beverly leaned over the kitchen island with a suspicious look in her eyes. “You look happy. You have an after sex glow. What naughty activities did you get up to while I was out?” 

Will groaned. He already gave up keeping up a facade. Beverly was too inquisitive; you can never hide anything from criminology majors. “You told me that when you got home last night, too. So what I had sex? I’m a grown man!”  

“I’m not attacking you,” Beverly laughed. “I’m proud of you. You got game, man. The joy shows on your face. Looks good on you.” 

“Whatever. I’m not telling you nada.” 

“Who was the lucky mystery lady? Or guy, or whoever.”

Will shot her a death stare. “We’re not getting into this.” 

“Come on Graham,” Beverly whined, taking a seat at the dining table. She was much too intrigued now in the matter at hand to focus on preparing her own breakfast. “ Please! I know you’re absolutely not a hookup guy with that freakish empathy of yours, this person has to be special or something. Wait, don’t tell me you started dating around.” 

Will sighed. “I’m not dating around. I have a boyfriend. It isn’t a big deal, don’t make it one.” 

“Not a big deal? You serious? That’s fantastic!”

Will finished the last bite of toast along with the final sip of his coffee. He immediately shot up from his chair without excusing himself from the table, chucking the plate and the mug into the sink for after classes. He turned on the tap, allowing warm water to wash out the mug. He sighed as Beverly turned her chair around to face in his direction. “He’s… really good to me.” 

“You’ve been on a roll lately. Got your grades back up, your mood, too… significantly less grouchy. Published that paper with Doctor Lecter, as well…” Beverly trailed off for a moment. “If you have a boyfriend, does that mean no more Doctor Lecter? That was my favorite thing to tease you about.” 

Will swallowed, turning off the tap. “I’m sure there’ll be no less of an abundance of him.”

Beverly practically belly laughed. “Well, don’t tell the mystery boyfriend about it. He might get jealous.” 

“I’m sure he would. He’s a little…” Will grimaced. “Possessive.” 

⋯ ୨˚୧ ⋯

Everything seemed to be going wrong that night, and at first, it was arguably Will’s fault. Later? Absolutely Hannibal’s fault. 

Will was late to their date. It had taken them months to get down on the waiting list of the restaurant Hannibal had booked in, a local but extremely popular and extremely fine place, possessing a Michelin Star. Hannibal, of course, wanted nothing the best for Will. It was scary when they first started going on proper dates together, especially since Hannibal had almost run into his coworker in the psychology department. Not exactly the best look, at a romantic seafood restaurant with your student; but they narrowly avoided interaction with the other professor. 

Now, they were stuck in some shitty diner in the middle of nowhere. For some reason every single place in Baltimore was packed to the brim this Saturday night, and Hannibal had to drive Will and himself out forty-five minutes away from Baltimore just so they had somewhere to eat. Will had already been to this diner with Beverly, a place they actually frequented; but he didn’t mention it. 

It was rainy and incredibly dreary. Both Hannibal and Will’s moods were soured. Will didn’t care about stupid Michelin Stars and fancy restaurants, he only cared about spending time with Hannibal; but his empathy picked up on Hannibal’s own disappointment, causing shame to flood through Will’s body upon the recollection that he was the reason they missed their booking slot. 

Hannibal wasn’t mad at Will. Not at all. The money he spent to secure a spot on the waitlist was of no matter to him, especially not when spent on his significant other, of whom he always enjoyed spoiling and impressing with assortments of delights. He was disappointed that they ended up here of all places. He didn’t want Will to have to settle with simply whatever he was given. He wanted Will to live luxuriously, especially in Hannibal’s presence. 

“How can I help y’all today?” A lady approached their table, notepad and pen in hand. She had a charming southern drawl, was overweight and visibly entering her late thirties, likely working the late night shifts to afford things for her children. Barely scraping by. It was a wonder what Will could pick up with only a glance at her. He felt pained, but smiled at the waitress, her Cajun accent sticking out comfortingly familiarly to Will. 

Hannibal was still looking at the menu, clearly unimpressed, but not showing it on his face as not to be rude. He preferred to keep his tastes to himself instead of putting down the people working at this joint. Will snuck a glance at him, gauging if he was ordering first or not. He looked back at the waitress when he saw Hannibal wasn’t ready. 

“I’ll have a cherry pie, with just a dollop of whipped cream in a separate cup instead of on top. Could I also have a hot cocoa?” Will asked, putting down his menu. 

“Sure, pumpkin. And with the hot cocoa, is that whipped cream on the side or on the top?” 

“You can put it on the top,” Will smiled. “Thank you.” 

Will and the waitress both turned their attention to Hannibal at the same time, and he lowered his menu from his face. “I think I’ll have the steamed cod.” 

“And are you getting the mash with that?” 

“No, thank you. Do you serve alcoholic beverages here?” 

“I’m afraid not, sir. We don’t carry that type’a license. 

Hannibal hummed. “That’s quite alright. Have a wonderful night, miss. Thank you.” 

The lady picked up their menus and left the table. Will scooched forward in his sticky diner seat, head in his hands, staring at Hannibal. Hannibal looked back with a smile. 

“I’m sorry I was late,” Will mumbled. 

“You do not need to fret, Will. Inconveniences come up often and unexpectedly. I have more than enough money to pay for a spot on the waitlist once more.” 

“But-” Will sighed. “You don’t even get a refund for what you spent on the waitlist. And that was a lot of fucking money, Hannibal. Especially to me, and where I come from.” 

“You’re always entirely too concerned. I understand where you come from. I’ve suffered from poverty myself, of the likes I can’t begin to describe. I was lucky enough to acquire inheritance back; and money is for spending . Especially on someone as special as you. It may be different for you, but my own profit is not something I need to save.” 

“I don’t like it when you act like it’s something to throw away, even if you’re spending it on me. Especially when you’re spending it on me, even. I don’t want to have the burden of… I don’t know, owing you something constantly on my shoulders.” 

Hannibal took a breath. “You hold a lot of power over me, Will. Even if I may be older, and also hold an immense position of responsibility over your head within the most important area of your life. You make me lose my control. Ignore other needs except your own. You also have the decision, at any time, to come to the department with incriminating evidence revolving around our relationship. Forgive me if I barely care about anything other than you.” 

“You can’t let me consume you,” Will whisper-yelled, not wanting to cause a scene nor start a genuine argument, but it was frustrating how calm Hannibal stayed in every situation. “I don’t want your money. I just want you. Please stop spending so much on me.” 

Hannibal swallowed. He sniffed the air subtly, and Will noticed. He was probably gauging Will’s emotions. “Do forgive me, Will, but I’m afraid that is out of my capabilities.” 

“What, spending less money? Making me feel less fucking horrible about being with someone so- out of my socioeconomic class? ” 

Hannibal stayed silent, staring at the blur of car headlights through the fogged up window. Will spoke up again. “You always want things to be flashy, theatrical. What about what I want?” 

Hannibal frowned, turning back to him. That caught his attention. “Everything I do is about what you want, Will. About what you need and what you deserve. You are the only thing I think about. I don’t care about my job, my reputation, my responsibilities. I don’t care about your status or your wealth. I don’t care about the lives of anyone around us. I care about you.” 

“That’s rich, coming from you. You’re a selfish lover, Hannibal. You put- fucking- words into my mouth, you always think I want something, think I crave it, anything to whet your appetite. Maybe I don’t share it.”

“You may not want the things I give you, but it is what you require from me. It is what I choose to give you. And over time, you will learn to accept these gifts.” 

“I’m not here to quench your thirst for something unconventional, like how you always want. I have entirely, shockingly different priorities from you.” 

Will was raising his voice at this point, though Hannibal’s voice was still leveled. He didn’t wish to hurt or argue with Will. He didn’t want Will to think these things. He wanted only to treat Will how he deserved; with special attention, expenses, and care. No matter the cost, no matter if it made Will feel horrible about the money spent, no matter if Will didn’t want it. 

“Will…” Hannibal’s jaw clenched. “Will, please be a bit more wary of our surroundings.” 

Will looked around, noticing that some patrons were staring. Even the southern waitress, pouring his hot cocoa from inside the kitchen, was sneaking glances. Will didn’t care, it made him more angry. 

“You know what, Doctor Lecter? I don’t care. I just want to go home. I don’t care anymore.” Will stood up from his seat, gathering his jacket. 

“About what, Will? What do you not care about?” Hannibal stood up from his own seat, mirroring Will’s actions. 

“About- this. Any of this. About you, or… this stupid fucking relationship. What did we even think? That this would be a good idea? Sacrificing so much just to be together? When we’re not fucking supposed to?” 

Hannibal’s breath caught. Will saw a glimpse through his person suit for a moment, but Hannibal zipped it right back up instantaneously. “I want to sacrifice these things for you, Will. I’ll quit my job as a professor. Is that what you want? I can go back to my psychiatry practice. It will not take much effort to reopen it and garner the old attention I had back then.” 

Will’s eyebrows furrowed. “You never get the point, do you? It’s always about you . Oh, you make these sacrifices, you spend this money, you take care of me. When will you realize that what I want is to feel normal? In a fucking… equally balanced relationship? Like I have a chance to do for you what you do for me? I feel fucking worthless to you, Hannibal. No matter what you tell me. And I’m sick of feeling like this. I’m done.” 

“Will-” Hannibal panicked, looking around at the staring patrons. “Will, please. Take this outside, at the very least.” 

Will laughed . “That’s what you care about? The fact that people are staring? That you look uncouth? Not the fact that I’m fucking breaking up with you?” 

“What?” Hannibal’s face dropped. “You’re what?” 

Will stormed out with his jacket, barely sparing Hannibal a glance as he made his way out to the alley by the side of the diner. Hannibal panicked once more, looking around at all the people who were staring, seeing his resolve slowly shatter. His control come loose. 

“I’m sorry,” Hannibal quickly uttered. He fumbled with the pocket of his suit, taking out his fine Italian leather wallet, taking out a few hefty bills and passing them to the waitress who was meant to serve them. Her eyes visibly lit up, ruminating over how much this meant for her and her family, but before she could thank Hannibal, he whisked out the door to go after Will. 

“Will,” Hannibal hissed, unspeakably upset. The diner doors swung behind him. “Are you going to communicate with me?” 

“I don’t think you deserve that.” 

The alley was quiet, but the hum of cars passing by in the pouring rain were still audible. Hannibal and Will were both getting soaked, the alley providing very substandard cover. Will clearly didn’t care, but he noticed as Hannibal tugged his jacket closer. Will was almost glad that his prim and proper tailored suit was getting ruined. 

“So, that’s it, then?” Hannibal swallowed. “After two sentences exchanged since we sat down? Do I infuriate you that passionately?”  

“Yes.” Will furrowed his eyebrows. “I suppose so.” 

Will storms away, calling for a taxi. Hannibal was very obviously going to offer him a ride, but Will didn’t want his charity anyways. Within two minutes, he was off back to the dorms, leaving a rain-soaked Hannibal in that stupid diner alleyway.

⋯ ୨˚୧ ⋯

Miserable. Angry. Furious, even. Completely and utterly depressed. Will Graham would need a thick dictionary to even begin to describe the swirl of emotions that bubbled beneath the surface inside of him. He eloquently referred to what happened as ‘ the incident ’. 

He was upset at himself, even moreso at this point of mourning their relationship than he was at Doctor Lecter. He hated himself, even for rational fear, a result of how he grew up. The refusal of handouts. The loathing of being taken care of. Even the slivers of affection that seeped through the cracks must be muted and dealt with. Independence, solitude, and complete distrust. These were the ideals that Will Graham had stuck himself to. It began when his mother left him and his father alone, and although his father did the best he could, taught Will the wrong characteristics to possess; his addiction to hard work, roughhousing, and autonomy seemingly part of the Graham gene pool. 

Billy Graham was an honest man. He made do with what he had and never desired more. Never craved or lusted after riches or things he couldn’t realistically achieve. Was never a dreamer, and taught his only son the same. 

Hannibal was the exact opposite. He had a luxurious lifestyle and denied settling for any less. Theatrics and entertainment were what kept his heart pumping and his blood rushing. The reason for life was art, it was delicious food, it was expensive tastes and divine experiences. Adjusting into a relationship with such a man was what made Will realize he never hungered for the mundane like his father so carefully taught him to. He enjoyed the peace, the quiet. He enjoyed eating two-minute microwavable meals. He enjoyed getting covered in mud down the lake, wade-fishing with a pack of thoroughly trained dogs. Alone, somewhere in a cabin, working and biding time in nature. This was the future he envisioned for himself. 

When Doctor Lecter came along and introduced his luscious, foreign lifestyle, Will’s tastes in life didn’t magically align with the good doctor’s own. He still had his own set of interests and idealization for what he wanted in life, separate from his relationship, but the older man made Will realize that he should learn to accept help. He should indulge himself on the occasion. He should live his life a little more outside of dirty forest-jogs and writing research papers with a stray on his lap. 

As much as Will loathed to admit it, he enjoyed it when Hannibal took care of him. He didn’t enjoy how much money he spent on him, he made that quite crystal clear; but he enjoyed feeling safe. Secure. Like his worries were far away from him, much distant than he would have to think they were if his significant other wasn’t there to usher them away from his fragile mind. Will was not fragile in any sense of the word, masculine in every way, but his mind needed protection. Shaded away from other influence. Sticking to Hannibal and everything else he knew. 

But it was too late. 

Will dreamt every night. His fantasies came back to him in fleeting moments, both behind closed doors and in lecture hall daydreams. Dreaming of a scenario where he didn’t blow up on Hannibal, where he communicated with him with understanding, where he saw Hannibal’s stubborn perspective and civilly provided his own. One where he learned to accept the care Hannibal wanted to offer him, where they would have negotiated, where they would have learned to be honest and both gotten what they wanted; no matter how selfish their desires. 

He thought that maybe, just maybe , Hannibal would call for him after a lecture. Would tell him to stay afterwards, would keep him back for one of their age-old tutoring sessions. Where he would apologize, and Will would stay levelheaded, and they could love each other in peace. 

They never exchanged the words ‘I love you’, but to Will, it felt right. There was nothing he could do about the fact that it only felt right after it was already over. After Hannibal was already gone. 

He wasn’t far out of reach, not physically. Mentally, on a different plane, yes. But in person? Will had the tortuous displeasure of seeing him nearly every day. Passing by him on campus, observing him speak with other colleagues in the psychology department, and worst of all; attending his lectures. 

And if it wasn’t already tortuous enough, in his own form of wicked punishment, Hannibal just had to rub salt in the wound. He ignored him. 

It wasn’t immature ignorance, not anything like pretending Will didn’t exist. He’d grade his papers, he’d communicate with him if he had burning questions. But the intimacy, the familiarity, the friendliness they once possessed between one another; gone. Hidden once more behind his person suit, the one Will tried so hard to undress, buttoned up under so many layers of masks and false pleasantries. No longer Hannibal, but Doctor Lecter. 

Will barely wanted to graduate anymore. 

It had been ages since they talked. Likely months. Will didn’t bother to keep track. Finals were next week and he could barely open his eyes from how exhausted he was. It was mental, but it showed physically in his unkempt curls and his tired, disinterested gaze. In the bags under his eyes, the paleness of his skin, the collarbones that poked out just the slightest bit more since the last time he and Hannibal had talked. A hollow shell of what Will used to be, and a bit more. Nothing. Embarrassing that he’d let a relationship get to him like this, but for a moment; he almost felt like Hannibal was made to be his second half. Like their minds had entangled and connected on a level inhumanly possible, of the likes of which Will’s greatest fantasies couldn’t live up to. All wasted. 

He made sure to brush his teeth. To keep steady. To push for just one more week, and he’d never be back in education again. Likely for the rest of his days. He noticed his appearance in the mirror as he stared at himself. He brushed back and forth. It was simply routine. 

Suddenly, the bathroom door opened, and Will forgot entirely that he shared his dorm with someone else. Beverly poked her head in, holding her makeup bag. She quickly observed Will’s appearance and instantly frowned. 

Beverly’s entrance surprised Will, and he spilled a drop of toothpaste onto the collar of his plaid shirt. Beverly grit her teeth in apology, but Will couldn’t tell if she was apologizing for scaring him and causing the stain, or if she was apologizing for something greater. Something rooted in the icky feeling of pity. 

“I’m so sorry, Will,” Beverly grabbed a few tissues and began rubbing at the stain. She put her makeup bag down on the sink and placed her brush on top of it. “I needed my brush. I should’ve knocked, I know you’re kind of out of it lately.” 

“It’s fine.” 

Beverly looked up and noticed Will’s lack of emotion. His face, devoid of expression. Will never cried when he was sad, but he showed it in other ways. Isolation. Social withdrawal. Passiveness. The inability to be truly angry. Numbness. 

Beverly sighed and chucked the tissue into the bathroom bin. “It’s not fine. I can see it on your face, Will. Don’t lie to me. Are finals getting you down or is it something else?”

“It’s none of your business and I don’t want to talk about it.” If it were someone else saying that other than Will, it would sound aggressive and biting; but Will said it with no distinct tone. He wasn’t present, and Beverly knew that. 

“I know it’s none of my business, but you’ve been down all week, Will. You’re not usually like this at all. You never have been. Do I need to give you the boyfriend talk?” Beverly offered with a relaxed, concerned expression. 

“It has nothing to do with him.” 

“The way your stance just stiffened tells me otherwise. What happened? A fight?” 

“A fight,” Will sighed, washing off his toothbrush and placing it by the sink. “And subsequent separation.” 

Beverly frowned. “Oh, Will. Will, I’m so sorry. I could see on your face how happy he made you.” 

“It’s fine.” 

“Do you need to talk about it?” 

“There’s nothing to talk about,” Will mumbled like a confession. “It was my fault.” 

“No, Will,” Beverly argued. “I know you. You always have a reason for what you do. Something happened. It would never be your fault entirely unless your boyfriend was an asshole.” 

“I just- I couldn’t accept what he gave me. He wanted to provide for me, to treat me. To give me all the love and affection he could muster. To smother me in money and expensive dinners and tailored Italian suits. Vacations after college and probably a whole pack of strays by the time we settled. It was too much for me. I couldn’t- I just- I wouldn’t accept it. It was too much, too overwhelming. Too grand of a gesture, and I felt so undeserving and uncomfortable in my own skin being… liked by someone. I was a fool to push him away from me.” 

Beverly smiled, not joyously, but comfortingly, with worried furrowed brows. “Will, that isn’t your fault. You weren’t used to that yet. You needed time to adjust. He might’ve just been overbearing, and your reaction wasn’t unrealistic at all.” 

She placed a hand on his shoulder, gazing into his eyes despite the fact he hated eye contact, assuring him of her words and the truth to them. She continued. “Look, I’m not going to try and fix things for you. But if you want to get him back, if you need him so greatly, you need to show him that you do. You can’t wait and expect him to come to you. Meet him halfway. You haven’t even tried reaching out, have you?” 

“...No.” Will exhaled. 

“Exactly,” Beverly smiled a little wider. “So just try. Do it for him, and also for me, so I can be your best maid in a few years.” 

Will laughed, a little strained. “I’m not that easy.” 

“Right. But just trust me on this, Will. Try harder. And get back to me when you’re done. I know this isn’t over and I want to hear the rest.” 

Beverly grabbed her makeup bag and her brush, leaving the bathroom with the gentle close of the door behind her. Will took a deep breath, gripping the edge of the sink and looking into the reflection of himself in the mirror. Powered by affection and new-powered determination. Motivation to get Hannibal back.    

⋯ ୨˚୧ ⋯

Will was fucking terrified. 

He didn’t know if it was too late to back out yet, ruminating over the situation in his mind, the humiliating possibilities, all the embarrassing ways it could go, and he was filled with the adrenaline to turn away from the grand doorstep and leave; but he’d already knocked, and he could hear collected footsteps approaching. 

When he opened the door, Doctor Lecter was a marvel. 

He was beautiful. So beautiful. Will saw him every week on campus even since the demise of their relationship, but seeing him in his private space was always entirely different. He almost forgot his anxiety, at loss of breath and all trains of thought when those beautiful amber eyes looked into his. 

“Mr Graham?” 

Will quickly realized once more that he was here. He was on Hannibal Lecter’s doorstep, looking like a fucking idiot, holding an expensive bouquet in his hands he bought from Hannibal’s favorite florist (one of which he spent time fixing up many motor engines and providing boat parts to afford, thank you very much), and blushing. 

“Doctor Lecter.” 

Will didn’t know how he didn’t fuck his name up, at a loss for words. Anxiety increased his heart rate to the speed of a cheetah’s dash. The thump in his chest sounded so loudly through his ears, and he couldn’t focus, he could just breathe and stare, and- 

“Are you alright, Will? Your face is quite flushed.” Hannibal squinted his eyes, leaning down ever so slightly to Will’s height. They didn’t have much of a difference between them at all, but the action reminded Will to ground himself for some odd reason. 

“Yes, I-” Will swallowed. He glanced down at the bouquet. He felt hopeless. He needed to be brave. He looked back up into the doctor’s curious and almost amused amber eyes, indicated by the crinkles at the corner of them. The twitch of his nose. His signature little snarl. The parts of Hannibal Lecter that he loved the most, when his mask wasn’t sewed right up. Allowing twitches of emotion to slip through the cracks, losing control. He pointed to the first flower, unsure of what else to say. “Camellia, uh, paired with daffodil. Cornflower, paired with lilac, and-” 

“ Sweet Williams ,” Hannibal muttered under a heavy breath, finishing Will’s sentence. He stared at the bouquet in Will’s hands, emotion crashing onto him in waves. “Dahlia. Myrtle. Dogwood. Forget-me-not. Gladiolus, paired with yarrow and anemone- dear Will, how did you acquire this? ” 

Hannibal’s voice sounded pained. Filled with longing and adoration the likes of which Will had never heard come from him before. Regretful. Mourning. Will smiled, though not of happiness, of pure fondness, recognition and apologeticness. “I…may have saved a bit of money to buy you something that would be on par with your standards.” 

“ Will… ” Hannibal whispered. “ Everything you do is by my standards.” 

Will swallowed, cheeks flushed. His voice was gruff. “I’m sorry about everything. Doctor Lecter. I was- scared. Overwhelmed. Lost. I didn’t know how to accept the things you provided me with, and I didn’t want most of it. Didn’t feel… deserving. I don’t require anything from you anymore, but… finals start tomorrow. I’ll be gone soon so long as I do well, and with your tutoring, we both know I will. You’ll never have to be bothered by me anymore. I just didn’t want to leave with negativity between us. I don’t need forgiveness, I needed to apologize. To mend things. To thank you. To tie up loose ends before I go. I- I don’t know. Sorry. I’m babbling. I just wanted to say goodbye.” 

“Wait, Will,” Hannibal was taken aback when Will shoved the bouquet into his hands and tried to leave the porch. He quickly grabbed Will’s hand. “Will. I know what this bouquet means.” 

Will sighed. “Of course you do. But it doesn’t matter anymore, does it?” 

“I love you too, Will. So dearly,” Hannibal uttered softly, like he was scared he’d break the younger man before him. He cradled his face with the gentlest caress Will had ever felt in his life. “I want you by my side for so long as I live. I have always been dedicated to you, even in my moments of late ignorance. You mean more to me than you could ever humanly stand to know. The… taboo of our relationship is of no matter. You are the most important flower in my garden.” 

Will couldn’t respond before Hannibal’s lips were on his, and- fuck, Hannibal’s lips were on his. Will never knew he could crave someone so much. To have a hunger so strong it could never be sated or willed away, the urge to consume Hannibal much greater than any other emotion he’s felt in all his years of living. He wanted to keep his ground, to move, but he melted into the way Hannibal’s arms wrapped around his waist and pulled him closer, as if he couldn’t get enough; as if he needed to eat him whole. 

Will took a moment before he reciprocated, letting out a sharp huff of air through his nose, abandoning his doubts and his anxieties as his heart pumped with less nervousness and rather alongside ravenous lust and love. He opened his mouth to allow Hannibal the experience of pursuing it. Giving his lover permission to explore him in ways no one else but him ever has, to take and stake claim on what was his once more, finally . 

Will groaned roughly as Hannibal pulled him through the door, never losing sight on the task he was currently completing. His lips still chased Will’s with undying devotion, sloppy as his mask fell but still collected enough that he wasn’t shoving Will against the wall and getting on with it. Will’s empathy allowed him to feel, and as the door shut, all of his nerves throbbed and his bones rattled and he knew that Hannibal was taking his time. 

He finally separated, holding Will’s smaller hand in his own, thumb massaging the callouses from years of handiwork with tools, engines, and oil grease. He placed the bouquet gently on the dining table to sort out later. He then guided Will upstairs and into his bedroom, a sight that Will admittedly missed greatly, giving him another sweet peck on the lips as they settled at the edge of the king-sized bed. 

“I’m so sorry I scared you, Will,” Hannibal brushed a curl from out of Will’s eyeview. “I never wanted to intimidate you or to make you feel rushed. Let us slow down. Enjoy the leisurely pace together.” 

As Hannibal lowered Will down to lay on the mattress, climbing on top of his body on all fours and kissing him chastely, Will sighed into his mouth with a contented pleasure. “Slow. Together. Hannibal, I love you.” 

“I love you too. More than words could describe.” 

For the first time since they began their relationship, they made love. Every previous physical union of theirs was rooted in erotic ardor, in much less than spiritual craving. Hannibal took his time treating Will, making him feel wanted and not just needed, wrapping him up in his affection like a heavy weighted blanket. A safety guard. A person that he can let go of things around, someone he can rely on for once in his life. A lover, not a boyfriend. A partner. 

Will lay among expensive silk sheets. Hannibal treated him like he were Aphrodite, minus the selfishness and the narcissistic fulfilments. His curls spread out against pillows as Hannibal thrust into him for what felt like hours , his cock filling Will with warmth he’d never felt before, and his heart with love so strong it consumed his entire being. 

It was slow. Gentle. Hannibal breathed so softly but heavily above him as he drove into him, large hands exploring Will’s body beneath his own. Will’s own cock remained untouched for a majority of the time, pre beading at the tip as Hannibal pressed inside of him, until Hannibal’s hand trailed down Will’s stomach to stroke his cock with affection. 

“Hannibal,” Will breathed out, back arching. His curls spread even further onto the pillow, limbs splaying off the side of the mattress, body unable to handle the amount of intimacy and pleasure that Hannibal had been building for the past few hours without climax. Not rushing, not making climax a goal or an achievement they needed to complete, but rather a bonus. The reward itself was exploring Will’s body so personally, treating him with the weeks worth of desire Hannibal had packed up in his soul since they separated. Never again. Hannibal would rather join him at the hip than let him go from now. 

Hannibal groaned gently, his cock throbbing at Will’s rough noises. In all of his masculinity, Will was absolutely beautiful, gorgeously non-traditionally feminine in a way Hannibal would have to write a hundred sonnets about. Will was a muse, and he was all for Hannibal; and the feeling of love that coursed through Hannibal’s veins in that moment was too much to bear. He pressed their abdomens close together, intertwining their fingers, his free hand wrapping to press against the small of Will’s back. With his hand trapped between Will’s back and the mattress, he applied pressure, causing his cock to hit angles inside of Will that the younger man could barely physically handle or contain within him. 

“Hannibal!” Will groaned breathlessly once more. Hannibal laid kisses across Will’s bare chest, the pressure from his hand on his back never leaving, assuring that the pleasure wasn’t going anywhere from him and his body. Will couldn’t handle it. The build up coiled inside of him, shortness of breath catching up to him as his panting came out in uneven hiccups and spurts, feeling the physical gratification Hannibal had given him bound to explode and unravel ardently. 

Hannibal wasn’t doing much better himself, the drag of his cock in Will’s hot insides almost torturous without climax, leaking excessively as he made his number one goal to treat Will. His pleasure would always come second, so he resisted the temptation to come as Will sobbed beneath him, so overwhelmed physically at this point that Hannibal could tell that begs for climax were bound to bubble out of the younger man’s throat in a moment’s instant. 

“It’s alright, Will,” Hannibal whispered, his accent gruff, completely disheveled. Their bodies pressed completely together, the urge to merge too much for Hannibal to bear. “I have you. I love you.” 

And Will let go. 

Both Will and Hannibal had reached climax together multiple times by the time that they were done, well into the night. In complete romantic domesticity, they departed the bedroom after a good while of aftercare and sweet whispers, and into the kitchen; where Hannibal prepared a late meal for the two of them. He sorted the bouquet proudly into an expensive looking vase on the dining table. Hannibal’s display of casualty and willing mundanity was ardent as he sat at his dinner table in nothing but a red sweater and some comfortable dress pants. Will felt like he almost wasn’t allowed to see Hannibal in this state of relaxation and privacy, but Hannibal made it obvious that the sight was made for Will, and Will only. 

A complete sign of disrespect to Hannibal’s cooking and the culinary arts, sitting at his table underdressed and ignorant of the history of whatever food he was consuming. But for once, Hannibal paid no mind. He and Will were rude together. This moment was saved for them, and them only. Not for unpleasant memories and regret, not for feelings of negativity or exasperation. To create new memories together, to reunite and join back as one, to strengthen their bond tighter than it ever was before. 

Will ended up sleeping over that night, gaining much needed rest in the safety of Hannibal’s arms, inside of his comfortable bed. The older man drove him to campus the next day in his Bentley, early arrival to avoid the concerned stares of anyone there to possibly bear witness. When he sat in the familiar lecture hall for his final individual exam, Hannibal presented him with a gift. 

An arrangement.

“Clematis,” Hannibal began explaining, but was shortly interrupted afterwards. 

“Rosemary, and clover,” Will smirked. “You’re wishing me good luck.”

“Clever boy. I have no doubt in the world that you will pass with flying colors.” 

Will graduated in May. The sun was out and nature was beaming, blooming underneath his feet as he exited the ceremony hall. With him was Beverly, who was due to graduate next year, and Hannibal, keeping a professional air with him as he shook his hand in congratulations. He separated from the two to go off and congratulate other students in his course, not wanting to look entirely too suspicious or biased if he stuck with Will for too long. 

Will’s father was with him when he graduated, as well. No one in the Graham family had ever completed the achievement of graduating from college. Billy Graham was suffering from a nasty cancer, but he spared the time and made the effort to fly all the way from their hometown of NOLA and into Baltimore. Will hadn’t seen his father since he left for education at eighteen, but he was more than thrilled to see him there. Seeing his father and Hannibal shake hands and discuss his tutoring was a very uncomfortable experience, but Will would learn how to cope with the disturbing memory. 

Beverly figured out that Will and Hannibal were dating along the way. At first she thought that the relationship began after Will and his mystery man had already broken up, but quickly realized a day later that Doctor Lecter was always the mystery man in question. Will laughed, and had a pillow thrown at him in return. 

Will graduated with high distinctions, of course. He was a wonder in the field without a career yet and already had two papers published to a popular scientific journal with Doctor Lecter credited as co-writer. Hannibal wrote an absolutely sweeping letter of recommendation to Doctor Bedelia Du Maurier, a former associate, with the assistance of psychology department colleague Doctor Alana Bloom. 

By Autumn, Will was approaching his twenty-third birthday in October when he began his internship with Doctor Du Maurier. Bedelia was a strong, hearty woman. She was confusing and difficult to decipher, complex in her nature and very strongly guarded. She had the same person suit as Hannibal did, and Will enjoyed working with her with the hilarious resemblance. Their banter became part of his every-day life as he worked as her assistant in her psychiatry practice, and Will completed his postgraduate studies as he interned there until he was offered a position at the police academy. 

At twenty-five years old, Will left Bedelia’s practice and began training. By twenty-seven, he was out in the field. At twenty-eight, with impressive qualifications and achievements as a rookie cop, he proposed to Hannibal. Hannibal was quite humiliated by the prospect of Will proposing before him, already even having purchased engagement rings, but Will only found it adorable and humorous. 

At thirty, Will suffered from an accident in the police force. He was attacked and stabbed by a suspicioned perpetrator in the shoulder, which permanently damaged his rotator-cuff. Hannibal urged him to quit the force afterwards, and with sorrow, Will did. He remained unemployed for the next two years, earning money by going back to working independently at the docks and in their neighbor’s gardens, as well as cars and boats. Hannibal helped advertise his services through his elite Baltimore associates and social circles, which helped tremendously. 

By the time Will was thirty-two, Hannibal had crafted yet another ground-breaking letter of recommendation for him. As the conflict of interest was present, considering that they were married, Bedelia assisted in the writing of it. Will received a position in the Federal Bureau after Hannibal somehow impressed the BAU head, Jack Crawford, beyond what he’d ever seen before. Consulting alongside Hannibal and working as a professor, much like Hannibal, Will was able to enjoy his work life more than he ever had. Beverly worked as a fiber analysis specialist in the Behavioural Science Department, weaving her career through Will’s own. 

At fifty-three, Hannibal was still a renowned professor. Though his consults at the Bureau became more frequent ever since Will began his employment there, he enjoyed the leisurely pace of his workload despite the fact he juggled the two different things at once. 

They were happy. 

Just don’t ask either of the husbands who the Chesapeake Ripper is, nor what the contents of their freezer look like.