Inspired by @hotsauce418‘s (alledgedly) accidental use of Edward and Jacob as Hannigram aliases, and cheered on by the lovely @tcbook and @desperatelyseekingcannibals, I can only apologise for this nonsense (of which there may be more…):
“I think we should break up.”
Logically, Hannibal knew there was nothing genuine in
Will’s suggestion. There was no scent of distress or anger emanating from his
beloved, and though his tone was grim, Hannibal could easily detect the twist
of amusement running beneath it. Besides, even in his most thrillingly
manipulative moments, Will would never go so far as to play with Hannibal’s
fear of being separated once again. They had long passed beyond those kind of
Logic did nothing to stop the tight constriction of
Hannibal’s heart on hearing the words, though, even as he raised an eyebrow in
Will’s direction, schooling his features into an expression of mild curiosity.
“If you say so, my love. Might I be permitted to know what
heinous indiscretion I have committed before you cast me from your presence
Will’s smirk eased the insistent, irrational tightness in
his chest. This was going to be a game, then. That was good. They both enjoyed
their games, now that they tended to end with Will in Hannibal’s lap, rather
than Hannibal’s knife in Will’s gut.
“I’ve discovered your dirty little secret,” he said, eyes
dancing with unrestrained glee.
“I assure you, dear Will, I have shared with you every
one of my secrets, both dirty and clean. There is nothing left hidden between
us, I am your open book,” Hannibal said, spreading his hands as if to
illustrate this. It was true, Will held all the details of Hannibal’s life
within him, every secret, every story, every memory that constituted Hannibal
Lecter. Even Mischa.
Will’s lips split on a grin and his expression turned
horribly smug. “An interesting choice of words…”
Hannibal sat a little straighter in his armchair as Will
strolled into their sitting room, admiring the easy grace with which the formerly
twitchy, awkward man now moved, anticipating the moment Will would deposit
himself upon his waiting lap. He was a little disappointed, therefore, that
instead of his warm, pliant self, Will placed, for some reason, a paperback
book on Hannibal’s knees. Hannibal quirked an eyebrow at him and received only
a nod towards the object in response. He looked down and froze.
The book was battered and dog-eared, far from the
pristine, cloth- and leather-bound volumes Hannibal displayed in their home.
Its black cover was creased with use, with a small rip in the bottom corner,
but the artwork was still clear, two pale arms extending from the top edge,
hands brought together in a shape faintly resembling a heart. In them was
cradled a blood-red apple.
Twilight. THE #1 NEW YORK TIMES BESTSELLER BY STEPHANIE
“I always suspected all that fanboying over Dante was a
front, but I had no idea your tastes were so… teenage,” Will gloated.
Hannibal considered whether it was too late to eat the
Okay, I received this prompt from a very patient Anon back in August (I’m sorry it took forever, you patient saint.) And then last night, @hannibalnuxvomica asked for a fic based on this prompt, “Fuck me, you loser.” I’m killing two birds with one stone here.
How they ended up at a local dive bar, outside of Bedford, was beyond any of them. Hannibal, Will, Team Sassy Science – even Jack Crawford were there, stuck in East Jesus Nowhere on their way back from a case in Pittsburgh.
All of them had gone in an unmarked FBI van to examine a crime scene suspected to belong to the Ripper. It had been a rather gruesome one, and after a long day dealing with grumpy local feds, a botched crime scene that was definitely not the Ripper’s, and crappy food, the stupid van – or lab on wheels as it was affectionately known – decided to conk out on the side of the road. It would be a couple of hours before a tow would reach them, even with the Bureau’s help.
And so, the group found themselves walking down a semi deserted road to make their way to Lucinda’s Lounge. The only place open at 10:30 at night.
“No one talk to me,” Jack grumbled. “I just want a drink and to be left alone with my thoughts.”
“Then maybe you should have stayed in the van?” Zeller replied. Beverly shot him a look to shut up before Uncle Jack gave it to him, but good.
Will and Hannibal walked behind at the end of the group, as Will said quietly, “I bet you’re glad you came with us, aren’t you?”
Hannibal unbuttoned the top button of his shirt and said with a smile, “True, it’s not how I envisioned my Saturday night to be – but at least the company is agreeable.”
Will grinned, and looked at the ground, as they continued walking, “Come on, I’ll buy you a drink.”
Lorde's lyric: "You know, we're on each other's team" - hannigram
Hannibal pulled up to the house and immediately knew something was wrong.
He didn’t move, didn’t turn off the car, and scanned the outside thoroughly looking for signs of an altercation. There were several dropped pieces of siding off the garage, a slight bit of red where they’d exposed worn out wood and he saw a torn piece of fabric lay just in the grass.
Will’s car was gone, he wanted to get out and be sure but Will had not parked it in the small garage all summer.
Hannibal pulled his phone out with trembling fingers, pressing the last and only number he ever called.
His car pulled out slowly so as not to alert whoever had followed to their remote location so far from a single neighbor.
The endless backup plans that formed in his mind were reeling through like flips of a notebook: the tickets to Rio, the house on the coat near Florida, or the boat.