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Dr. Lecter was taller than Will had thought he’d be.Will was slouched in on himself, which was perhaps part of why the doctor appeared so tall. Will didn’t care much for the semantics either way. He was there because Crawford told him to be there. Dr. Lecter was probably in the same boat.Will let Lecter lead him further into the room. He looked around, more to keep his eyes off of the other man than any other reason. The office was spacious. There were bookshelves lined with books and a few sketches of landscapes lay on select shelves. The desk was large and had even more sketches on it. There were two chairs facing each other, but Will wasn’t inclined to sit until Dr. Lecter cleared his throat.Will sat. Dr. Lecter sat down in front of him.“Mr. Graham-“ Lecter had an accent Will couldn’t quite place “-I understand that I’m facing some suspicion, yes?”Will hated this. He hated talking to people and he hated the way Lecter looked at him and he hated his own kneejerk reaction, which was to snarl. He swallowed that down and went for something a bit easier.“Not really,” Will offered. “You just fit the profile. This is routine.”Dr. Lecter smiled. It was warm and friendly, but Will looked away from it anyway. Dr. Lecter’s eyes never left Will’s face. Will didn’t know what the doctor was looking for, but he hoped the man didn’t find it.“You seem uncomfortable,” Lecter said.“I can see why you’re so highly regarded in the field of psychology,” Will said back.Lecter blinked. He looked honestly taken aback by the response. Will sunk into his seat, guilt gnawing at his bones.“No, I’m sorry,” he muttered, scrubbing a hand over his face. “I’m not used to- I’m not actually an agent, you know? Crawford pulled me into this case, but I didn’t want to work it. I didn’t mean to snap at you, Dr. Lecter.”“Do you have trouble saying no?” Lecter suggested, his posture relaxing.Will rubbed at his eyes. He hadn’t even noticed Lecter tense up.“Crawford always pulls me in by telling me it’s for the best,” Will admitted. “It’s for the sake of everyone. I can’t say no if it’ll mean saying no to everyone.”“Well, you wouldn’t be doing that at all,” Lecter mused. “You would be giving yourself and your psyche both a break, which could help you help others even more, don’t you think?”Will stared at the carpet for a moment. It was soft and warm over a hardwood floor. He wanted to take his shoes and socks off and dig his toes in. Like most of his impulsive thoughts, Will ignored the urge.“You’re right,” he acknowledged, only a bit bitter. “I work better the longer it’s been between cases.”“Have you tried staying out of town?” Lecter suggested. “Crawford certainly can’t pull you in if you aren’t here.”“I feel like he’d probably hunt me down and drag me back,” Will sighed.“…from what I know of Agent Crawford, I do believe you’re right.”Will chuckled, the sound escaping him before he could stop it. Lecter tilted his head slightly, as though in question.“Sorry, I wasn’t laughing at you,” Will assured him. “I was laughing because- well, Crawford really does leave an impression, doesn’t he?”Lecter’s lips quirked. “He certainly does. Tell me, Mr. Graham, what compels Agent Crawford to hound you so?”Will hesitated for a moment, but Lecter was patient. Will squeezed the arms of his chair, then released them.“Empathy disorder,” he ground out. “I can feel what other people feel.”Lecter’s head tilted again.“I can pick up on motivations,” Will grumbled. “Crawford claims it helps.”“You’re a profiler, no?”“I am.”“Then, your empathy must be quite useful. If you might excuse me for saying so, you don’t seem comfortable with it.”Will sighed. He wished, abruptly, that he’d smuggled in the whiskey he kept stashed in his suitcase.“It’s too much, sometimes,” Will admitted. “I feel…”He hesitated again.“Whatever you say, I will keep between us,” Lecter promised, his voice soft. “I won’t pass judgment.”“Sometimes, I can’t tell the line between the killers’ desires and my desires,” Will said, his voice matching Lecter’s subconsciously. “Sometimes, it feels as though I committed those atrocities myself. And, it- it scares me.”“Because you feel the blood on your hands?” Lecter suggested. “Or because you like the feeling of blood on your hands?”Will got up so abruptly, Lecter actually recoiled in surprise. Will paced to the desk, searching for a distraction on the polished surface and finding those drawings instead.Sketches, mostly of classic paintings or foreign sceneries. Will couldn’t help but whistle, impressed by the detail. He heard the rustle of Lecter’s clothes as the doctor followed him over.“That doesn’t really matter,” Will claimed, forcing his tone to be lighter than he felt. “We’re not here to dissect my criminal tendencies, we’re here to dissect yours.”“Forgive me,” Lecter said, his voice closer than Will expected it to be. “I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”“It’s not you,” Will commented idly, his eyes remaining firmly on the desk and sketches. He flipped through a few pages, so he could see the art underneath. “Any psych doctors make me uncomfortable. Did you draw all these, Doctor?”“I did,” Lecter replied. “I have a very accurate memory.”Will whistled again, flipping through a few more pages. Some of these were of people, mostly people in paintings, though Will supposed Lecter wouldn’t be inclined to sketch his own patients.Will paused, his eyes widening a fraction. His breath caught, just a little bit, in his lungs. He couldn’t mask the tremble of his hand as he suddenly set the sketches back down, one particular sketch on top. The Wound-Man.Lecter peered over his shoulder. His proximity was unnerving. Will imagined that he could feel the doctor’s body heat against his back. It was far closer than one would normally stand to someone else, Will was pretty sure. He swallowed, and Lecter’s eyes peered at him even while Lecter kept his head facing forward.“You seem uncomfortable, Mr. Graham,” Lecter said, and his voice was a low purr.“As I said before, I just don’t like psychiatrists and the like,” Will replied, his voice calm only because Will didn’t feel present in his own body.“Aren’t you acquaintances with Dr. Bloom?” Lecter suggested.“Yes,” Will allowed, fighting the instinct to bolt for the window. It was clearly locked. “But, Dr. Bloom is different. He never lets himself be alone in a room with me.”“What does he fear will happen if you two are left alone?” Lecter’s voice was amused.Will couldn’t help but feel colour rise in his cheeks. Lecter was still standing close, close enough that Will could hear him breathing. Will had never felt so terrified in his life. His fight or flight instincts were wrestling, but Will was really trying to come up with a better plan than bolting or biting.Bolting would ultimately be useless, all things considered. And, somehow, he had the strange feeling Lecter wouldn’t mind so much if he chose to bite- and it was time to set that train of thought onto another rail.“Dr. Lecter,” Will said. “I don’t suppose you have a telephone?”Lecter considered him. Will swallowed heavily and could only just make eye contact, peering at Lecter through the corner of his eye the same way Lecter was doing to him.Then, all at once, Lecter stepped back. Will fought his instinctive urge to slump over in relief. His shoulders twitched.“I have a telephone just down the hall,” Lecter said. “You probably spotted it on your way in.”Will thought back.“Oh,” he agreed. “Yes, I did see it.”Lecter was smiling. It was a very disarming smile. Will’s attempt at a smile in return looked more like a grimace, and something in Lecter’s eyes flickered, amused.They stood for a long moment in perfect silence, neither of them moving except to breathe.“Do you mind if I go make a call, Dr. Lecter?” Will suggested. “I just had a breakthrough on the Ripper case.”“By all means,” Lecter agreed. “Do you need a quarter?”“No. Thank you, Dr. Lecter, but I’ve got one.”Will passed Lecter, forced closer because the most direct route to the door involved walking between the two chairs and Lecter was standing purposefully in his way. Lecter didn’t try to stop him, only smiled when Will glanced up at him. Will thought he heard Lecter inhale deeply as he walked past, but told himself it was just his imagination.He walked calmly out the door. His shoes clicked on the hardwood of the flooring. Lecter’s office was at the end of a long hallway, the telephone on the other end. Will reached it without trouble and fumbled around in his pocket for a moment for a quarter. There was a brief panic that he might not have one, but what he thought was a dime was just his mind playing tricks.He slotted the quarter in. He picked up the receiver. He dialed Jack Crawford’s office.“Crawford,” the man answered, after two rings.“Hey, it’s Will. Will Graham.”“Do you have something for me?” Crawford asked, interest piqued.Will thought for a moment. His palms were sweating, and he had to hold the receiver with both hands to keep it from slipping out of his grasp.“I got a lead on the Ripper,” Will commented.“Well spit it out, then!” Crawford ordered, his excitement tangible.“Hannibal Lecter,” Will said. “The Ripper is Hannibal Lecter.”“Lecter?” Crawford repeated. “Aren’t you with Lecter right now?”“Yes,” Will agreed. “I’m with him.”“And you’re telling me he’s the Ripper?”“Yes.”“The Chesapeake Ripper?”“That’s the one.”“I hope you found some proof,” Crawford stated. “Wait, Graham, if you’re with him, that means-“Will dropped the receiver the same time the knife dug into his flesh. He couldn’t help but to gasp, the pain hot and only worsening when Lecter twisted the knife.He distantly heard Crawford’s voice, tinny over the phone lines, shouting at him as Lecter picked up the handset and replaced it. Crawford’s voice cut out in time with the ching of the call ending.“Thanks for giving me the time to make that call,” Will mumbled, legs giving out and sending him sliding to the floor, leaning heavily against the wall. “It was real ‘portant.”“It would have been impolite not to,” Lecter replied casually, following Will’s descent with ease to keep the knife buried to its hilt, as though he’d done this a thousand times.Considering his apparent side hustle, he probably had.Will was awake just long enough to hear sirens blare down the street. Then, Lecter ground the knife in just a bit deeper, and Will’s brain made the executive decision that he should not be awake for this. He passed out.
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The next time Will woke up, he was in a hospital bed. Jack Crawford stood vigil at his bedside. He told him he was lucky to be alive. Lecter’s cut missed the most vital parts. Lecter’s cut would also, unfortunately, be leaving a scar.Lecter himself, luckily, had gone relatively easily. They’d searched his house. He’d had a basement full of human meat. Lecter had readily admitted, faced with the evidence, that he ate his victims.Will was released from the hospital into the courthouse, where Lecter was being tried. The still bleeding stab wound was pretty good proof of Lecter’s guilt. Will spent the whole time trying not to look over at Lecter. He could feel Lecter’s eyes on him. Will kept his testimony short and simple. It didn’t need to be long. Not with the overwhelming proof and a confession.Will was placed back into the hospital. Apparently, his heart rate was irregular. Dr. Bloom commented that he seemed a little pale. Also, Will had thrown up in the courthouse toilets and pulled three stitches. That too.“I’m glad you’re alright,” Crawford said.“I’m not,” Will corrected.“What?” Crawford asked.“Will?” Dr. Bloom asked.“I am not alright,” Will stated. “I was stabbed. By the Chesapeake Ripper. The most prolific serial killer in the past decade, at least. The Chesapeake Ripper stabbed me. A known cannibal. How could I possibly be alright after that?”“Will, you need to breathe,” Dr. Bloom said. “You’re hyperventilating.”“I have a scar because the Chesapeake Ripper fucking stabbed me,” Will said, only slightly hysteric. “He smelled me. While I was leaving. He smelled me. Do you think he wanted to eat me? He also offered me a quarter. Then he fucking stabbed me in the fucking back, holy fuck-“In the end, it only took two nurses to hold Will down until the sedative in his IV kicked in. In his panic, he’d torn four more stitches. His heart rate was still irregular, on top of that.“I’m never working with you ever again,” Will promised Crawford, two weeks later. “I’m moving somewhere you can’t fucking find me and I’m going to fix boats for the rest of my goddamn life.”“Will-“ Crawford tried.“Don’t take that tone with me,” Will snapped. “I’m leaving. Do not call. Don’t bother writing. If you ever visit, I will throw myself off of a cliff.”“Take care of yourself, Will,” Dr. Bloom cut in, patting Will’s shoulder. “Call every once in a while, or send a Christmas card. Just, let me know you’re still alive, yeah?”“Dr. Bloom, do not encourage him-““Alan,” Will said simply. “I love you.”A moment of silence. Then, from Crawford and Bloom both, although in wildly different tones, “What?”Will took advantage of their confusion to get in a cab and tell the driver to take him far away from there.Will sank into his seat and felt relief to be away from them. From Crawford, especially, but Alan Bloom and his worried looks, too. He didn’t think he’d mind seeing them again, but it would be a long while before he would even think about it.At least, he thought, he would never see Hannibal Lecter again. Hannibal Lecter smiled. “You’re still wearing that same atrocious aftershave that you wore in court.”Will Graham kind of wanted to scream. But, that wouldn’t help the investigation very much, so he refrained. Weeks later, laying in another hospital bed, Jack Crawford standing vigil once more at his bedside, another debilitating scar but this time on his face, Will wished he’d never gotten involved. This time, he couldn’t even speak, only write while his jaw healed. It was awful. Even worse than the first time, because Molly kept looking at him with something like fear and pain in her eyes and it physically hurt him to see it.“If you ever contact me again,” Will told Crawford once he could speak with only relative pain, “I’m going to escape into the woods and live there.”“Will,” Crawford tried.Will wordlessly held up the divorce papers Molly had had him sign. Crawford shut up.“Take care of yourself,” Dr. Bloom encouraged.“I will be doing the opposite,” Will promised.“That’s the spirit,” Dr. Bloom said, patting his shoulder.Crawford did try to call. He did so multiple times. Every time, Will answered the phone, recognized Crawford’s voice, set the phone down, and walked off to do something else for an hour or two. Crawford was increasingly desperate. Will could not physically, mentally, or emotionally give less of a shit about it if he tried.He refused to see Hannibal Lecter ever, ever again.
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“Oh, so you do live here,” Hannibal Lecter said, when Will gave in to the incessant knocking and answered the door.Will stared at him blankly for a moment, then glanced down at the watch on his wrist. It was three o’clock in the morning. Slowly, he lowered his head into his palms and sighed.“How did you know where I live?” Will asked, endlessly tired.“Jack Crawford had a file on you,” Lecter replied.“Jack Crawford didn’t know where I live,” Will stated.“No, but Jack Crawford knew your telephone number,” Lecter said. “And your telephone number has your area code, and from there, it was really quite simple to ask around-““Did you come here to kill me?” Will asked. Lecter could speak for days, and Will wasn’t in the mood to play along. Not on his front porch at three in the morning.Lecter considered him for a moment. Will stared back, too tired to be nervous. He could only imagine what Lecter saw. His body was emaciated. He hadn’t been eating much these past few years. His face was scarred with the only visible scar on his body. He was and always had been a rude asshole.Lecter smiled. He looked genuinely pleased to see him.“I came to see what you look like,” he said.“What I… look like?” Will repeated.“Crawford probably didn’t give you my letter,” Lecter tutted. “But I was hoping you weren’t too ugly.”Will considered patting Lecter down for weapons to kill himself with, but decided Lecter would probably be too into that.“Well?” Will asked.“The scar is quite large,” Lecter mused, passively studying Will’s face. “But it doesn’t disfigure you.”“The neighbours disagree,” Will commented.“You don’t exactly surround yourself with those who are at all well-versed in any arts,” Lecter told him. “Really, the scar is like marbling.”“Thank you, I’m glad you like it,” Will said flatly.They stood in silence for a moment, staring at each other. Lecter was still taller. It was still a bit of a surprise, no matter how long Will had been aware of it. Will fought the urge to try and straighten his back. He might be taller, but Lecter would only be amused.“Won’t you invite me in?” Lecter suggested.“Will you kill me if I don’t?” Will asked.Lecter smiled. Will opened his door wider and took a step back to let him in.“This is the first place they’ll look for you, y’know,” Will grumbled. “Even Dr. Chilton knows of your obsession with me.”“They don’t know where you live,” Lecter stated, looking around the sparse furniture with something like interest. “And I doubt we’ll be here that much longer, either way.”“We?” Will asked.Lecter smiled.“That doesn’t answer my question,” Will stated.Lecter’s smile widened.“You can’t just ignore me and smile whenever you don’t want to answer,” Will insisted.Lecter continued. Will gave up and flopped on the couch instead, scrubbing his hands through his hair. He was surprised when Lecter sat next to him on the couch, but not surprised that Lecter hadn’t learned the appropriate space to leave between two people in the time he’d been incarcerated. Their thighs were pressed together. A brand of heat that Will was only tempted to lean into because it had been so long since the last time he’d felt a similar warmth.“I don’t like you,” Will told him. “You ruined my life. Twice.”“You rather ruined mine,” Lecter commented casually.“You drew a picture of your own crime scene,” Will said. “You were asking me to figure it out.”“I drew the diagram,” Lecter rebuked.“Your crime scene was the diagram.”“Yes, but the sketch was specifically of the diagram, not of the crime scene. The meaning would have been watered down had I based it on another interpretation.”Will rolled his eyes.“I’m not going with you,” he stated. “Wherever it is you’re going. I’m not going along.”“It is amusing that you believe me to be asking,” Lecter replied.Will stared at him, confused, then blanched.“Are you serious?” he huffed.“Quite,” Lecter said.Will slumped back in his seat. His vision was going dark around the edges. His awareness was growing fuzzy. Lecter was still smiling that same smug fucking smile.“Where did you even get a sedative?” Will slurred out.“I was a surgeon,” he reminded. “I know where sedatives are kept in hospitals.”Will hated him.
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“I have imagined eating you,” Lecter said, his voice strangely gentle.“In what way did you imagine doing so?” Will asked.Lecter stared at him. Will didn’t understand why he was clamming up - Lecter had been the one to say something objectively more fucked up.“What were you thinking of eating?” Will asked, narrowing down the question. “I assume you’d avoid my liver, but I’m sure the other parts are fine.”Lecter blinked. “I can’t imagine leaving any part of you to waste,” he commented. “If your liver is pickled, I’ll bottle it.”Will glared at him, but it was mostly out of annoyance. Will was allowed to make fun of his alcoholism, but Hannibal Lecter, a man with much worse hobbies than day drinking, was not.Lecter only smiled in response to his glare.“I imagined using you in a tableau,” Lecter continued. “If you want to know the truth, I’ve always rather struggled with how to place you.”“Difficult to elevate me into art?” Will suggested.“You don’t need my help to be art,” Lecter mused.Will opened his mouth, but nothing came out. He closed it again, and turned his head so he was looking away from Lecter. Lecter didn’t seem to mind, but that was because he didn’t need Will to look at him to know he had Will’s full attention.“Perhaps you think me shallow,” Lecter said, “but you and I both know that your appearance caught my attention first upon our meeting.”“I know,” Will grumbled, colour rising in his cheeks. He told himself it was out of disgust. “It was hard not to notice.”Lecter had stared at his face the entire time with the same look he would have if he was trying to commit a painting to memory. Knowing that Lecter’s memory was so good, Will had always tried not to think about his staring. He’d never quite managed.“You resembled a painting or a sculpture,” Lecter said, his voice coloured with fond nostalgia that only dyed Will’s cheeks a ruddy red. “You still do, in many ways.”“Dalí or Picasso?” Will asked.“I lean more towards Michelangelo or Botticelli, myself,” Lecter replied.“Shut up.”Lecter’s grin was audible. “You’re looking rather red, Mr. Graham. Are you feeling well?”“I’ll feel better when you’re dead,” Will growled.“Your attitude problem also tends to remind me of Michelangelo and his discomfit-““I’m leaving.”“And where will you go?” Lecter asked, amused.Will glared at him. They were on a boat in the middle of the ocean. The third boat. Will was inclined to believe this was the third ocean as well.Lecter had never liked when Will threatened to leave. He had taken the possibility entirely out of the picture.“I’ll go swim,” Will muttered.“I will retrieve you no matter how far you go,” Lecter stated pleasantly.Will was aware. Lecter had already “retrieved” him four separate times.“You want to speak to me more,” Will sighed.“I often do,” Lecter agreed.“Don’t you ever get bored?” Will suggested.“No.”Lecter was such a contrarian.“Well I do,” Will said.Lecter tilted his head and didn’t say anything. Will held his gaze for about thirty seconds, then slouched in his seat.“Talk, then,” he muttered.“Have you ever imagined your own death, Will?” Lecter asked, because he had never believed in “easing someone into it.”“Of course,” Will replied. “I worked with Crawford. It was difficult not to put myself into the victims’ heads.”“Yes, but that’s not quite what I was asking,” Lecter admitted. “Didn’t you ever consider how your prey would like to eat you?”“I think you’re the only one who considered eating me, Doctor,” Will commented.“The Dragon,” Lecter said.“What about him?”“He would’ve eaten you, given a chance.”“He sent me a message, actually,” Will said. “He wanted to break my back.”Lecter looked at him with a peculiar look on his face for a long moment.“You mean literally.”“Is there another meaning?” Will asked.Lecter only smiled patiently. Will rolled his eyes.“How have you imagined my death?” Will asked instead. “You must have something in mind, or you wouldn’t have brought up the subject.”“I wanted to know how you felt about it.”“My death?”“Yes.”Will thought about it.“I always hoped it would be peaceful,” he said. “I gave up on that.”“It could be peaceful,” Lecter claimed.Will gave him a dry look.“You assume you’ll die by my hand,” Lecter commented. “But you don’t seem very intimidated.”“I’m numb,” Will explained.“You’ve grown numb to me?”“I was numb from the start.”Lecter considered this. He crossed one of his legs over top the other, and smiled, tilting his head. Will hated when he did that. It usually meant Lecter was going to hound him about something.This time, to Will’s vague surprise, Lecter changed the subject.“You mentioned Dr. Chilton,” he commented.That had been a while back, now. A few months. Will had to think for a moment to bring up the memory. Lecter waited patiently.“Would you have preferred I mention Dr. Bloom?” Will suggested. “He knew you were obsessed with me as well.”“Obsessed? I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”“You do realize that you kidnapped and trapped me on a boat with you, right?” Will muttered.“I didn’t do any of that out of obsession,” Lecter claimed.“Hatred is a type of obsession,” Will said.“I don’t hate you.”That made Will pause. He tilted his head, turning that thought over in his mind. He wasn’t sure if he believed it.Lecter felt something towards him. Something hot and angry. Something that pounded at his ribcage and gnawed on his fingertips. It wasn’t distaste - Lecter’s distaste was cold. Will had always assumed that the heat and hunger in Lecter’s gaze was borne of hatred, the hunger a byproduct of what Lecter did to his victims. It was the way Lecter watched him, constantly, surprising Will when Will woke in the middle of the night to find Lecter standing over his bed. It was the way Lecter’s fingers twitched, as though wanting to touch. Lecter himself had begun this conversation by admitting his desire to eat Will.What was that, if not hatred and murderous intent?Will thought about it for a long moment. He turned their conversations over in his head, studying them from the angle that hatred wasn’t the emotion simmering in Lecter. The angle that Lecter didn’t feel murderous when he smelled Will’s aftershave, even as he complained about the scent.There was an almost audible click as Will pieced it together. His eyes widened slightly, his body shifted and settled, and Lecter watched on with amusement.“Seriously?” Will asked.Lecter inclined his head.“What about that cop?” Will questioned, thinking back over the snippets he’d heard before he left Crawford to speak to an empty line. “Starling?”“Are you questioning my commitment to her or my attraction to you both?” Lecter asked.“Right now, I’m questioning a bit of everything,” Will admitted weakly.Lecter’s expression went frigidly cold.“Do you fear I might do something to you?” he suggested, his lip curled in distaste.Will almost laughed. The thought was downright ludicrous. “I’m not afraid that you’ll suddenly molest me, no.”Lecter relaxed again. Will ran a hand through his hair and watched Lecter follow the motion. A lot of Lecter’s pauses and comments suddenly made a lot more sense.“Is that the way you imagined eating me?” Will couldn’t help but wonder.Lecter tilted his head and said nothing. Will felt his face heat up a bit.“That explains your concern about my looks,” he said.“There is more to human attraction than vanity,” Lecter mused.“Not when it comes to desiring the scrawny profiler who couldn’t even make eye contact,” Will stated.“Perhaps.” Lecter wasn’t folding on this. Will couldn’t help but to roll his eyes. Lecter leaned forward in his seat, head tilted and teeth bared, and said, “You don’t seem very scared.”“Your obsession is concerning, absolutely,” Will sighed. “But, your jealousy and possessiveness - even your obsession - none of these come as a surprise to me. I knew you wanted my full attention, even if I had the wrong idea of why.”Lecter’s smile was something like fond. It made Will’s skin crawl.“Your desire to eat me is a more pressing concern,” Will admitted. “If only because I’m well aware that you would do so in any way you could. Including literally.”Lecter inclined his head, agreeing.“You definitely desire to manipulate me,” Will continued. “To mold me like clay - get your head out of the gutter - and possibly you want me to commit some heinous, atrocious crimes with you.”“That would be nice,” Lecter sighed, like he was talking about a candlelit dinner instead of brutal mutilation of a corpse.“For now, I don’t think you’ll do anything,” Will said. “You won’t touch me sexually unless you think I want you to. And you won’t kill me if you believe a sexual relationship could be tenable.”“Do you believe a sexual relationship to be all I desire?” Lecter asked.“No,” Will replied. “But I do think if that was all I’d give you, you’d take it.”“You’re arrogant.”“You’re obsessed.”“No-““You sent me Christmas cards for three years,” Will stated. “You called Dr. Bloom’s office and lied to a secretary to get my phone number and tried to get my address. You sent the Dragon to my front door. You brought me up enough that Chilton had more than a few wild ideas about our relationship. You kidnapped me. You trapped me on a boat with you. You watch me sleep.”Lecter was silent for a moment. Will waited. For once, he was the one patiently waiting for a reply. It felt kind of nice.“I can see how all of that would come across as a bit obsessive,” Lecter eventually conceded.“A bit,” Will muttered.“Flippancy doesn’t suit you.”Will didn’t believe him. Lecter was quietly delighted by his attitude, especially the lack of disgust or contempt. Lecter also looked amused as he spoke.“I’m very rude, Dr. Lecter,” Will commented. “I know how you feel about that.”“And yet,” Lecter sighed, the closest he would come to admitting his own double-standard.
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Will Graham was nothing if not fascinating.From the very first time he’d met him, Hannibal had been intrigued.Graham was small, and only appeared moreso with how he slouched. His hair was windblown and messy, no matter what Graham tried to do with it. His clothes hung off of him, partially because his weight fluctuated and partially because he didn’t like the feeling of fabric pressed against his skin.He’d been tan, the first time he visited Hannibal. His skin took on sunlight well. He’d gotten paler the more time he spent pacing hotel rooms rather than sitting out on the beach somewhere, and his complexion had been downright pasty when Hannibal had found him again, but he was somewhat pleased to find that Graham’s skin accepted the sun back like an old friend.The scar across his face remained almost white. It was a sharp contrast. As were his eyes, piercingly blue, which had always unnerved people. Hannibal was not one of those people.There was a certain way others treated Graham. Like he was a precious ice sculpture that one had to take care not to shatter at the slightest touch, and also like he was a beast that was only half-tamed and could snap at any moment. Even Crawford tended to treat Graham as someone to be kept at arms’ length. But then, Crawford had been all too willing to throw Graham into the line of fire twice, would have been happy to do so thrice even, so his opinion hardly mattered.Graham maintained a sense of danger, even when he was terrified. There was an easy, graceless rage inside of him, clawing to be let out of the cage he kept it locked in. His fear made him angry, but his anger made him afraid. He was a contradiction and a half and Hannibal couldn’t get enough of watching him.“What are you doing?” Graham muttered, still mostly asleep, his head propped up on his fist. He was laying on his stomach, the sheets pooled around his waist, the blankets long kicked off the bed entirely, his sleep shirt riding up just enough for the scar on his abdomen to be barely visible.“I should think that’s obvious,” Hannibal replied, keeping his tone delicate. He was wondering if it might be possible to lure Graham back to sleep in his presence, something he had yet to accomplish.“You’re watching me sleep?” Graham questioned. “Again?”His tone implied the activity to be boring, as though Hannibal could ever tire of it. Graham’s face never relaxed, even in sleep, a crease between his brows and his mouth set in a firm scowl. He was an aggressive sleeper, kicking at sheets and hitting the wall and growling. Lecter took great delight in watching, but Graham always awakened before he could get his fill, then stayed awake out of bitterness.However, as Hannibal had explained to him countless times before, he didn’t set out every night purely for the purpose of watching Graham sleep. He just so happened to pass Graham’s room on his way to his own, which led to him poking his head in, just to make sure Graham hadn’t tried to escape again. And if something about Graham’s defenseless, unaware form sprawled out across bed sheets that were usually red but looked black in the pitch-dark of night made Hannibal unable to resist sitting in the chair that just so happened to be perfectly positioned for him specifically to be able to watch Graham sleep, well, who would be capable of resisting the allure?“Y’know,” Graham rumbled, eyes half-lidded and barely aware. “I always wondered what would happen if we spent more time together than we did.”Hannibal tilted his head. He was intrigued. More than that, he felt pleased that Graham had thought of him.“What did you imagine happening?” he asked.“Always thought your obsession would worsen with exposure.”Graham’s grin was snarky in a way he didn’t show when he was fully awake. He was afraid during the day. In the middle of the night, when his predator spoke gently and sat nearby, Graham allowed himself to be more openly transgressive.Hannibal found being the focus of Graham’s inner aggression enthralling. He always had, ever since the first time he stabbed Graham in the back and found Graham’s response to be passive-aggression at its finest. Graham was as bitter as black coffee, and Hannibal took great delight in being the only one currently capable of tasting any of the underlying flavour.“Obsession is a strong word,” Hannibal commented lightly.“What would you call it?” Graham questioned.Hannibal couldn’t help but smile. Graham’s face paled slightly, the only visible proof that Hannibal’s smile unnerved him. Which, of course, only made Hannibal’s smile grow.“One doctor once suggested that I had a weakness to addictive sensations,” Hannibal offered.Graham stared at him blankly for a moment. It always took him a moment to understand Hannibal’s double meaning here. Hannibal found his lack of comprehension to be delectable.“Feeling… addicted to me, of all things, should be enough evidence to prove you should talk to a specialist,” Graham eventually ground out, colour rising in his cheeks without his permission.“Who’s more specialized in you than I?” Hannibal gleefully misunderstood.Graham looked tired. Hannibal pondered how to make the man sleep in his presence. Perhaps, following Graham’s logic, a bit of medical specialization would be useful here… “The scars both healed poorly.”Will didn’t reply. He didn’t need to. He was well aware of the thick scars on his abdomen and face. Both of them were ultimately Lecter’s fault, so Will was more than a little miffed that Lecter had decided to bring them up.“Is it difficult to speak?” Lecter inquired.“Only sometimes,” Will muttered.“The problem is almost certainly exacerbated by how little you do so,” Lecter said.“I don’t have anything to say,” Will told him blandly.He was bitter. It was because of the kidnapping, among other things.“Speaking would help you stretch the muscle out,” Lecter said calmly. “Of course, there are other ways of stretching that muscle.”Will thought about it. He couldn’t think of anything. Maybe yawning? Opening his mouth as wide as he could? Sometimes, even Will couldn’t tell what was going on in Lecter’s head.“I guess I’ll talk,” Will sighed. “If only there was someone to talk to.”Lecter frowned. He had a strangely childlike response to certain things. Will had seen it before in adults who were never allowed to act childish in their youth. It was odd to think that Lecter fit this mould, even if only occasionally.“If you don’t wish to speak to me, dear Will,” Lecter said, his voice innocent and almost sweet, “then we could always just puncture the wound a second time. Similar to rebreaking a bone so it can heal properly.”Will felt a chill race down his spine. His face blanched. He shifted his jaw from side to side, then slumped in his seat, sighing. He rubbed his face tiredly.“What do you want to talk about, Dr. Lecter?” he asked, bitterly, against his will.Lecter smiled.“You like animals, yes?”A strange topic. “Yes.”“Particularly dogs?”“I suppose.”“What’s your opinion on cats?”“They’re nice enough. They tend to like me.”“And birds?”“What’s the point of this?” Will questioned. “Why are you asking me about animals?”“What do you mean, Will? We’re having a conversation,” Lecter stated. “Or is there something else you wish to talk about?”Will stared at him. Lecter stared back. There was a long moment of silence.“There is one thing that’s been on my mind,” Will eventually broke the silence to mutter.“Oh?”“Did you drug this?”Will lifted up the bottle of water he’d been sipping on.“You got it for yourself. How would I have drugged it?”Lecter’s innocent face was grating. Will supposed it was a positive sign for Lecter that the dread he felt in the face of it was more dread of mischief than dread of being murdered.All the same, Lecter had definitely drugged his water. Will could already feel his limbs getting heavier, his eyelids alongside. His focus was drifting.“Y’sure y’didn’t distract me by talkin’ ‘bout animals to drop ma guard?” Will slurred.“Relatively,” Lecter assured.Lying bastard.Will was briefly disappointed to wake up - he’d kind of hoped Lecter was tired of him - but annoyance quickly overwrote that as his primary emotion.“Did you drug me just to stare at me for four hours?” Will grumbled, still groggy.There was a twinge in his neck and lower back. No matter what Lecter claimed to have done, Will knew he hadn’t been moved an inch.“I certainly do enjoy watching you sleep,” Lecter replied, cheerful.Why? Will wanted to ask, but he knew it would be useless to do so.“You could’ve at least drugged me in a bed,” he said instead.“I will keep that in mind for next time,” Lecter agreed easily.“Next time?” Will repeated.Lecter smiled innocently. Will sunk low in his seat and wondered what he’d done to deserve this fresh Hell.