Work Text:
Will Wants Pizza
It started with a simple question.
“What would you like for dinner Will?”
As a man with simple tastes and cravings, Will had said, “Pizza.”
Honestly, Will thought that Hannibal would just bake it in the oven, the man had two massive restaurant capacity ovens after all. But, no, apparently, it was not authentic enough. It had to be a brick oven in a very specific style with a specific kind of clay.
Ever since their first and only disastrous restaurant outing, all meals were had at either at Will’s home or Hannibal’s. They only recently starting dating and Hannibal seemed to have turned up his culinary skills at that change. The older man had always been a fantastic chef, a culinary master of all styles ranging from Nordic fish jelly to Indian curry to Hawaiian Kalua Pig. But, lately, his dinner dates with Will had reached new culinary heights, with each meal presented more extravagantly and intricately than the next, as if he had a team of gastronomists planning each dish, as if he had nothing better to do than to cook for Will, as if he was trying to impress Will. But that couldn’t be possible. Nobody goes out of their way to please Will. Nobody even considers it, let alone attempt it. No, that couldn’t be it. So Will didn’t think that his request for a simple pizza would even make Hannibal blink.
Of course, Hannibal didn’t blink but he did take a moment to pause. As if calculating something. Then the doctor pulled out his phone, typed some things into it for a few minutes, and smoothly put it back.
“I know just the place…” Hannibal said cryptically.
Will assumed that Hannibal just made reservations to some super fancy Italian restaurant but something about the way the older man trailed off made Will a bit uneasy, the other man clearly had something up his sleeve. He raised an eyebrow.
But it was just pizza. How bad could it possibly be?
—
2 flights and 15 hours later, Will found himself in Naples, Italy. Hannibal’s home in Naples, Italy.
My name is Will Graham. And I am in…
Dark lashes flutter open to a Neapolitan apartment. Will looked at his phone. Yep, GPS says Naples. Will Graham was in Naples, Italy on a date.
Though it was a long drive to IAR and another queue through check in and security, it wasn’t until he was actually in the air that it wasn’t some elaborate hoax. No, Hannibal really was taking him to Naples for pizza. At first, Will thought Hannibal was taking him to some fancy restaurant in DC, then he thought it was some understated place at the airport, then he thought it was at some first-class lounge cause Hannibal bought first class tickets. Will was in such a daze he didn’t even realize that Hannibal had Will’s passport or the fact that the man was able to arrange an international getaway in a matter of minutes. Of course, being at the airport with so many people bustling around always had Will’s nerves on edge, making him go within himself to protect himself against all those emotions.
So, no, it wasn’t until the first class stewardess handed Will a glass of champagne did he finally realize that he was actually going to Italy. But, he was on a plane, and it’s never good to freak out on a plane. So he downed his champagne and withdrew back into himself.
—
6 dates earlier…
It started off with a dismissal. Well, technically a referral. A few months into their “conversations”, Hannibal had provided Will with a referral. At first he was offended, until Hannibal explained.
“You’re firing me?” Will frowned at the slip before him.
“Not exactly. As I explained, I wish to pursue another aspect of our relationship, one which, if we were to continue seeing each other in a professional setting, I think you’d be disinclined to accept.”
Confused, “What aspect?”
“Romantically,” Hannibal said with his minute expression of a shrug through his eyes, as if it were already obvious.
Slightly taken aback, it was not obvious , Will asked incredulously, “Why?”
Hannibal took a moment to regard him. Will was guarded, he was tense, he was skeptical. So he did the only thing he could think of to lower the younger man’s defenses; Hannibal told Will the truth. “I find that there is something that I have never found or recognized before in you in another. Rather than dancing around, I’d simply think to just tell you, honestly, that I’d like the opportunity to pursue you romantically. I want to give you all the things you deserve but I do not think you’d accept it if it were in a professional setting. I want to be there for you in that darkness, I want to be the one you call first when times get hard, I want to be the one you can depend on, the one you can tell your deepest darkest secrets to, and that no matter what you say, that I’ll always be there for you.” Yes, Hannibal was putting it all out there, he laid himself bare, he was going to give it his all.
Will froze, taking in the worths. His whole life, he’d been lonely. Oh, so lonely. His whole life, he’d never known love. Neither from family, friends nor lovers. His whole life, like many he’d assume, he’d never found another person who could truly understand him… unconditionally. The closest he ever got were his seven dogs. But, of course, it had to be another man. Will blinked furiously, narrowed his eyes, and said dryly, “I’m not gay.”
With a long blink the equivalent of an elegant shrug, “It need not be physical.”
Will quirked an eyebrow. He wasn’t born yesterday to think that gay men weren’t some of the horniest on the planet. After all, he did see the trailer for Queer as Folk. He didn’t watch the show, but it was referenced in one of his psychology classes as a subculture study.
Picking up on the younger man’s disbelief, “There are all type of relationships. And, I enjoy your company Will. I only ask for you to be faithful during the duration of this courtship - which, of course, I will do the same.”
“So you want me all to yourself?” Was that was it was all about? Possessiveness? Control?
A mischievous glint darkened Hannibal’s eyes. “I do not share.”
Whether or not Hannibal could tell, Will softened, if only slightly. He bit his lip, “What if it doesn’t work out?” After all, Hannibal, psychiatrist - official or not - was his only friend. Had been his only friend. His only friend … ever.
“I highly doubt that.” Hannibal said, ever so confident. He was not going to let that happen. If Will Graham was ever able to see him in a romantic light, he was not going to ever let that go.
Will, on the other hand, didn’t look so assured.
So Hannibal continued, “However,” in his ever so even toned voice, “If you ever decide that are no longer satisfied with the nature of our relationship, we can return as we are now.” Hannibal lied. There was no way Hannibal would ever let that happen. Will would be his, now and forever. No matter what the younger man decides.
There was definitely something Hannibal was being evasive about, but he had been awfully lonely his whole life. And he wasn’t so narrow mined that he was prejudiced against other sexual orientations. It’s just that he never thought himself falling on anywhere on the Kinsey scale other than on one far end. But… he never … understood himself as he as well as he did as when he was with Hannibal.
And he wanted to be loved. Or at least pretend.
With a shaky deep exhale, “No expectations?”
“Trust me, Will. You’ve already exceeded all of them.”
Will studied the man before him. Maybe Hannibal was telling the truth, his eyes certainly glistened like he was already in love, maybe it could be real. Maybe … maybe he could . With a nervous breath, with poorly feigned indifference, Will shrugged and said, “You’re telling Jack.”
With a toothy grin, Hannibal said, almost scoffingly, as if Jack was the least of his worries, “Of course Will. Whatever you want.”
—
The day after Hannibal’s pronouncement, Will was at work. He was in the lab with Beverly Katz, Jimmy Price, Brian Zeller. They were all huddled around a couple of flayed bodies, the skin around their lats erected to simulate a perversion of wings, hands pressed together in mockery of prayer. Or perhaps the truest form of prayer. After all, the bible depicts a god with a penchant for sacrifice.
“Death makes angels of us all and gives us wings where we had shoulders smooth as ravens’ claws.”
“Robert Frost.”
“Jim Morris-“ Will started but didn’t finish that sentence as a cacophony of black and blues graced his visage.
Hannibal entered the lab, stealthily as ever, walking softly so that he could catch his beloved at work. Behind his back, he held a bouquet of black dahlias, purple bladderworts, and midnight blue roses. Dark, beautiful, rare .. predacious… he presented his dark bouquet to an engrossed Will.
All contemplation ceased the moment the bespoke suited man entered, quoting Dante, as Will’s eyes fluttered up to kind of make eye contact, “‘I was walking among the fires of Hell, delighted with the enjoyments of Genius; which to Angels look like torment and insanity.’’” He held the flowers before Will.
The younger man had his arms crossed, latex gloved hands gripping his biceps, made no move to accept the flowers. After all, he had never given or received flowers. What was he supposed to do when he was presented with a bouquet anyways? Assume it was for him? It could be a centerpiece… for a morgue … the dead need flowers too… right?
But Hannibal continued to hold the flowers out before him. Will’s hand twitched, fingertips uncurling from his arm to reach towards the flowers, “Um…?”
With that slight suggestion, Hannibal thrusted the flowers into his beloved’s hands, “Hello Will.” He leaned in close to Will’s face, and for a second, Will thought Hannibal was going to kiss him, but instead, the doctor asked, softly, intimately, but in the dead of a morgue, all words, no matter how quiet, were heard, “I have a meeting with Jack in a few minutes to discuss our recent,” Hannibal paused for dramatic effect, “development. But I came to see if you would allow me to take you out to lunch afterwards?”
Slowly, Will’s face slowly flushed, burning as he realized he was being asked out on a date in front of his colleagues. The FBI equivalent of a jumbo-screen sports game proposal; it was impossible to say no. So Will cleared his throat, gulped, and said, “Uh, yeah, ok.”
A broad shit eating grin spread across Hannibal’s face and he leaned forward.
Will tensed, thinking that Hannibal was about to kiss him. He’d never kissed a man before. Hell, he’d never even been kissed in public like this before. But Hannibal didn’t kiss him. Instead, the plaid suited man brushed an errant curl out of his face and said softly, “I’ll be counting the seconds til then.” And left, leaving everyone, including Will, aghast.
Zeller, unfortunately, was the first to recover, “What the hell just happened?”
“Geez, read the room Z.” Katz rolled her eyes, “I thought you were FBI.”
While the three forensic specialist bickered over their interpretation of both the dead bodies before them and Hannibal’s courtship, Will found himself getting redder and redder.
“WHAT?!” Jack’s booming voice could be heard even through the walls of the morgue, startling the team.
—
When Hannibal arrived at Will’s lecture hall to collect the Quantico professor, he noticed that the flowers were now in a beaker filled with water. He wondered if Will did that out of his own volition or, most likely, through Katz’s or Price’s prodding (certainly not Zellerr’s).
Although the only meals Hannibal shared with Will so far were within the comforts of his own home and it seemed that was Will’s preference as well, he would be remiss to not take the opportunity to take Will out on the town. After all, Hannibal did like to show off and he wanted to show Will off. He wanted everyone to know who Will was with and for everyone to back off .
What Hannibal didn’t take into consideration was how Will would react going to a Michelin starred pre-fixe restaurant. Suffice to say, it did not go well. It turns out that Will was very uncomfortable eating in public and even more uncomfortable with the obsequious nature of fine dining servers. Despite the younger man trying his best to brush off his uneasiness, his anxiety translated into a barely eaten meal, continuous wringing of the cloth napkin on his lap, stilted conversations, and an overall look of terror and misery.
It wasn’t until they were almost back to Quantico that Will finally seemed to rouse himself and stress dissipated enough for him to manage words.
“I’m sorry, I-“ the younger man stuttered, “I’m not a very good lunch date.”
Hannibal turned to look fondly at him, “No need to apologize Will. I should be the one making amends as I sprung this upon you. I am grateful that you even accepted my offer.”
Will nodded shakily, as if trying to build up the nerve to say something else. “I - I … growing up… I never ate out. The concept of waiters and hostesses are …”
“Foreign?” Hannibal hedged.
“Intimidating.”
They had arrived back at the academy. As Hannibal pulled into the visitor parking, he put the car in park but did not exit the car. Will’s fingers were laced together as he twisted them nervously. Hannibal put a gentle hand on the professor’s forearm.
“Then I must thank you Will, for going out of your comfort zone to accompany me.”
Will snorted, “Yeah, I bet you’re thrilled to waste your money on all that uneaten food.”
“Will, I’d pay any price just to spend a minute with you.”
The younger man’s blue eyes widened in shock then quickly narrowed in suspicion. So unused to affection.
“But, I must admit, I do not like to see you unfed.” Hannibal waited for Will to return his gaze. “I shall prepare all meals on our dates in the future.”
Will grimaced, “Hannibal,” he argued weakly, “You don’t have to…” do this, date me, want me.
But Hannibal heard all those unsaid words and said with an easy smile, “Will, I am not a man who gives up so easily.”
—
And so, all subsequent dates had taken place in the intimacy of either Hannibal’s or Will’s homes. Hannibal making each dish as if he was in the final round of Iron Chef; with the finest ingredients and rarest delicacies. In an act of reciprocity, Will had even cooked a few times with his own freshly caught freshwater fish.
Of course, with the relaxed nature of dining at home allowed for nightcaps and even sleepovers. Behind closed doors and away from the public eye, Will finally attempted a chaste kiss on the third date. Hannibal had been so patient, so controlled, allowing Will to dictate the direction of their burgeoning relationship. However, when Will finally kissed him, a small levy broke in his mind and Hannibal returned the kiss passionately, almost filthily.
-
Present day: Naples, Italy
“Hannibal, this - this is- this is crazy!” Will stammered, throwing his hands up in the air as he looked around the narrow cobblestone streets of the Spaccanapoli. Yellow buildings made of stone with flower boxes hanging off the balcony surrounded him. “You can’t just fly us halfway around the world just to make me pizza just cause I said I wanted pizza!” Will continued.
Hannibal, dressed in a linen suit and wearing sunglasses merely shrugged, “I only wish to give you the best Will.”
“You- you can’t!”
“Why not?”
“I- it’s- too much? too expensive? It’s - I’m not worth it,” Will argued. This was crazy. Going to another country for dinner was crazy. Hannibal was crazy.
“You’re worth every penny Will and more,” Hannibal said warmly.
“Hannibal, aren’t you afraid of investing too much?” Will said weakly.
“I’m afraid of investing too little.”
“It’s going to be a negative ROI,” Will tried to counter, but with each retort he felt less and less on his stand.
“No, I don’t believe it is.”
Will looked at Hannibal painfully, as if it was agony to conceive of his own self worth.
“My dear Will, my strange boy,” Hannibal turned towards the younger man and gently cupped his stubbles cheek, his hand caressing down to Will’s neck. “Always alone in the dark,” Hannibal continued, looking into Will’s blue green green eyes. “Understanding everyone but no one understanding you.” Hannibal petted Will’s curls. “You don’t have to be afraid. I’m here with you and I won’t ever leave you.”
Those beautiful blue green eyes glistening, shaking with unshed tears. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” he choked out. His voice breaking.
“Will,” Hannibal searches the young man’s stormy face, “I always keep my promises,” he assured him. And kisses Will’s soft lips.
Will lets out a strangled sob, he doesn’t know what to feel, he’s never felt like this before; loved. He’s so happy that it hurts. He clings to Hannibal’s coat while the older man kisses him deeply. He kisses back, the kiss feeling like nothing he’s ever felt before. Devotion, love, safe. The absence of fear. At least for that moment. But for that moment, Will isn’t scared, worried, or anxious. He feels confident, relaxed, and a little delirious.