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It was around ten when Will was dropped off in Wolf Trap again, he had just finished breakfast with Hannibal and the man had to work early.Now, Will sat in the middle of his living room, surrounded by his dogs, his hands absentmindedly stroking Winston's soft fur. He wiggled a bit, shifting from his knees to sit cross-legged, as his mind drifted, a smile bright on his face.Hannibal was supposed to come over soon, but he’d left Will alone for the afternoon with vague instructions to ‘take care of himself’ until dinnertime again.But the little boy didn’t know what that really meant.He looked at the kitchen door, chewing on the sleeve of his too-big sweater. It felt too far away. And figuring out food was… complicated. His brain felt slow and fuzzy, like everything was in a fog. Cooking? Cooking was for big people. Grown-ups. The kind that weren’t half-curling up on the floor with their dogs, unsure of what to do. Hannibal's task.His stomach growled softly. He hadn’t eaten since breakfast. The dogs whined and nudged him, sensing something was wrong.He wrinkled his nose, glancing toward the fridge, then the pantry. “Mhm” he muttered to them, nodding. “Right… we gotta eat something.”Standing felt like too much effort, so he crawled on all fours, following his pack into the kitchen. Winston barked once, clearly excited by the movement, tail wagging furiously, Will stopped his way to pet the dog's tummy, then continued.He shuffled over to the pantry, pulling it open. Cans of soup, pasta, and various spices looked back at him, but he blinked at them, feeling lost. Nothing stood out. The idea of boiling water or turning on the stove seemed far too overwhelming, he was too little.His gaze slid over to the dog bowls.“Well,” he mused, squinting, “you guys eat it, right? It can’t be that bad.” His voice was small, almost like he was talking himself into it. The dogs sat patiently, watching him with bright, expectant eyes.Reaching into the bin of dog food, Will grabbed a handful of kibble, tossed some into the bowls for his pack, and took a few pieces for himself. He plopped down next to Winston, taking a tentative bite. It wasn’t great… but it wasn’t terrible either.It was crunchy, at least.Satisfied that he had solved the problem of lunch, Will leaned back against the kitchen counter with his dog bowl in hand, feeling oddly accomplished as the sound of his dog's eating filled the room.When suddenly… the front door creaked open, and Hannibal entered with his usual refined grace, carrying a bag of fresh ingredients. The sight that greeted him, however, stopped him dead in his tracks.“Will?” Hannibal said, voice dangerously soft, trying to hide his concern, “is that... dog food?”Will looked up, blinking wide-eyed innocence. “Yeah, but it's not bad! Just a little dry. Do you think it needs more seasoning? I didn't know what to make.” he mumbled between bites, glancing down at his bowl.Hannibal stared, his impeccable composure faltering as a wave of disbelief washed over him, this kid was going to be the end of him. “You are not a dog, Will. You are a human being. Humans do not—” he gestured vaguely at the scene before him, “—consume that.”Will cocked his head, lips twitching into a small pout. “But the dogs like it.” He gestured to the dogs the same way Hannibal did to him, tilting his head.Hannibal pinched the bridge of his nose, as though summoning the patience of a saint. “The dogs, Will, also enjoy rolling in mud and chasing their own tails. Should I expect you to take up these habits as well?” His tone fatherly.Will's eyes lit up with playful mischief. “Maybe. If you get me a tail.” He giggled, getting up to properly greet Hannibal.Hannibal closed his eyes for a moment, collecting himself. “No, you're not a puppy. We are going to have a proper meal. And you're going to leave... the dog food... to the dogs. But first,” He helped Will get up, his hands greasy by the kibble, and his breath stinked at dog food. “We're gonna brush those teeth, rather urgently.”“I could be a puppy if you asked me to.” Will played, barking once and alerting his dogs, giggling to himself, then turned to Hannibal, who had a stern look. Will gulped down.“To the bathroom.” Hannibal ordered and Will walked straight there, no more playing around for the not-pup.Once they were both in the bathroom, Hannibal helped Will on the counter, grabbing a glass and filling it up with water, making Will get mouthfuls and spitting them repeatedly before grabbing the toothbrush, placing a generous amount of minty flavored paste.“Can you say A for me, sweet boy?” Hannibal indicated and Will obeyed, the older man got to work, quickly brushing the boy's teeth and gums, strong enough they almost bleed. And then, when he placed the toothbrush on Will's mouth, he suddenly turned away, spitting into the sink.“No, not the tongue! the flavor is gross!” Will sentenced, but Hannibal just stared down at him, “Mint?” asked, eyebrow lifting slightly. Unbelievable that the boy who just had dog food in his mouth –and liked it– was complaining about taste. Hannibal considered getting offended at the thought of how Will enjoyed the home cooked meals, but alas… He grabbed him by his jaw, like one would do to a dog and continued to help him clean his mouth.“Dear child, you should be thankful I didn't get the soap,” A pause, a hit of the nauseating smell “Or the bleach” he provided, enjoying the fearful eyes in the little boy, who calmed down enough to let Hannibal finish his task.“Now, this” Hannibal made the kid take mouthwash and spit it up a few times. Will believed his mouth was never cleaner, his teeth felt resplendent. Hannibal smiled proudly at his work, leaving a chaste peck on Will's lips.
After ensuring the offensive dog food was promptly disposed of, and the little boy was purity clean, Hannibal swiftly moved about Will’s kitchen, pulling ingredients from the bags he'd brought. His movements were precise, almost predatory, as he worked, but his tone softened as he spoke.“Will,” he began calmly, “you shouldn’t have to figure these things out on your own. It's clear this... arrangement isn't working for you.”Will, now seated at the kitchen table, swinging his legs, watched as Hannibal whisked eggs in a bowl with practiced ease. The smell of something delicious already filled the air. His dogs sat obediently at his feet, as if understanding that their meal choices had been decidedly downgraded.“I can handle it,” Will said softly, though the wobble in his voice made it less convincing. He was scared Hannibal would tell him he didn't want him anymore, that he needed to grow up. He twirled the sleeve of his sweater nervously, glancing away.Hannibal’s gaze flicked toward him, something unreadable in his eyes. “Can you?” he asked gently, as he poured the eggs into a hot skillet, the sizzle filling the silence. “Or would it be better if someone were here... to help you? Every day, ensuring you eat properly, that you're looked after?”Will bit his lip, unsure as if trying to hold onto the idea of independence. He hated feeling like he couldn’t manage, like he was just the helpless daddy's boy, but being left alone often felt too overwhelming.And Hannibal, he was always so steady, so sure of things. He made life seem so much easier, almost worth it.“I- maybe,” Will murmured. “But I have the dogs. I’m fine.” He shied away from his gaze.Hannibal turned off the stove and plated the meal—scrambled eggs, perfectly sautéed vegetables, and toasted bread. He placed it in front of Will, the scent warm and comforting, reminding him of his childhood.“The dogs,” Hannibal said with the faintest hint of amusement, “cannot cook for you. Nor can they protect you from yourself.”Will frowned, picking at the edge of the toast but eating it nonetheless. “Protect me?”Hannibal's expression was unreadable as he crouched beside him, his voice dropping to a soothing whisper, paternal. “You’re vulnerable, Will. What if something worse happens? What if next time, it’s not just dog food you eat, but something dangerous? You need someone who can look after you, someone who understands your needs. Wouldn't you feel safer if you weren’t alone here?” Hannibal’s tone was almost convincing.Will’s stomach fluttered with unease, the quiet tone of Hannibal's words felt vaguely like a threat. He nodded slowly, still unsure. “I guess…”"Move in with me," Hannibal merely suggested, –it wasn't a suggestion– his tone so smooth it almost masked the possessiveness beneath it. “I’ll take care of everything, my boy. No more stress, no more uncertainty. You’ll always be safe with me.”There was a pause. Will could feel the weight of the manipulation, back in his mind something in the air that hinted at more than just safety. But in his current state, with the food in front of him and the warmth of Hannibal’s presence surrounding him, it felt… easier to just give in. He promised himself he wouldn't take adult decisions as a little, but here he was.“Okay,” Will whispered, almost more to himself than to Hannibal. “Maybe that would be better for us” He looked at Buster, his dog, who just tilted his head slightly.A small, satisfied smile tugged at the corner of Hannibal’s lips. He stood up, brushing a hand gently over Will’s shoulder as if sealing the agreement. “Good. I’ll make the arrangements. Now, eat.”As Hannibal mentioned the last words, a glint in his eyes showed dark satisfaction. Will wouldn’t have to worry about anything anymore.He’d make sure of that.