Chapter Text
Will heard the car approaching on the long gravel road up to the manor long before he saw it. He was standing in the doorway at the top of the stairs as it pulled into the carriageway. The air was crisp and the clouds overhead threatened snow. The car pulled up and stopped, Mischa was first out but instead of jogging up the steps to greet her father she hung back a moment and helped the heavily layered man out first with a steady hand.
Hannibal stood as tall and proud as Will remembered. A little pale from his confinement and there were more crows feet by his eyes, a few more streaks of grey in his once sandy hair. Other than that he was remarkably unchanged, his eyes glinted with the same sharp intelligence, a look he’d now grown used to seeing in the mismatched eyes of their daughter.
The older man was perhaps thinner than Will would have liked to see him but he supposed that was to be expected as he would have been deprived of his finer pallet. He still cut a fine figure in the long black wool coat Mischa had procured for him from his old wardrobe in Baltimore. Will felt almost scruffy in his casual plain blue shirt with thick plaid fleece and jeans covered in dog hair. Will had donned his old thick framed glasses to act as a sort of shield from the man before him. An old habit he adopted when in a new situation.
Mischa’s job now done, she spoke in low tones with Dimitri, instructing him to pull the car into the garage. She then set upon the stairs two at a time bounding up to where Will waited with open arms. She hugged him fiercely and planted a chaste kiss to his cheek in greeting before she pulled back and glanced behind her.
“I shall leave you both to it then.” She said then entered their home alone.
Hannibal had remained where he stood bundled up in his many layers watching the reunion. Will shuffled his feet avoiding the man’s intense eyes. He angled his body to the side.
“Better come in then.” He mumbled. Hannibal smiled.
“Of course Will.”
He took his first steps and paused as he came level with Will. He reached out a hand and clasped the back of Will’s neck in their unique way. Will felt all the tension of the past few days leach away and he ducked his head forward leaning into the man. He knew Hannibal was scenting him just as he was doing, allowing the leather and faintly spicy tones to wash over him. Hannibal had no aftershave on, so all he smelt was just him. It was as intoxicating as ever. After what felt like minutes but was probably only seconds Hannibal muttered affectionately into the curls by his ear.
“Still the same unfortunate aftershave.”
If Will hadn’t seen the smile he would have still heard it in his words as he pulled back from the touch. The hand dropped away from his neck reluctantly.
“Come on.” He said gruffly, leading Hannibal into the manor proper. The pack decided that now was an appropriate time to make their appearance yapping and bounding down the ornate carpeted oak stairs. He wondered what Hannibal thought about his old home being used by all his dogs. Many of his old dogs had died but Winston was still with them slower and half blind but he still located Will easily and pressed a wet muzzle into his waiting palm before pausing and giving Hannibal’s knees a good sniff. The mutt wagged his tail twice then followed the younger dogs through to the kitchen and out to the grounds where Will heard Mischa whistling for them.
Will saw the moment when Hannibal’s keen nose picked up what was cooking in the kitchen. His eyes widened and Will was sure he physically perked up as they entered. It wasn’t as lavishly modern a preparation process as Hannibal’s had been, but the kitchen was furnished with everything the connoisseur of cooking would need. The space was easily twice that of Hannibal's old house in Baltimore.
It was a kitchen diner with an island dividing the space for a more homely feel. More to Will’s tastes. Hannibal ran his hand along the marble countertop as Will returned to trussing up the lamb. There were loaves of fresh sourdough in the oven and a tray of cooling honey briskets. Baking, or rather stress baking, was something Will had picked up while pregnant with Mischa.
Looking over, Will took pity on how Hannibal seemed at a loss for what to do with himself. A rare sight. He missed the self assured confidence of the man.
“Help me with the sauce?” he offered.
He came alive at the invitation, shrugging his coat off and rolling his sleeves up his forearms. Will passed over the apron wordlessly and appraised his Alpha as he tied it neatly about his waist. Will indicated to the stove where he had started an orange sauce. Hannibal soon acquainted himself with the kitchen, finding the juicer and chopping fresh oranges and squeezing them out. Meticulously picking out the pips. He found the herbs and Will was content to let Hannibal do his own thing. No doubt the result would be amazing.
At length Hannibal broke the silence.
“So Mischa?”
Will poured dressing over the lamb shank and placed it in the oven to marinate on low heat.
“It felt more appropriate than Abigail.” He wiped his hands on a towel, slinging it over his shoulder. He leant back on the sink and watched the older man work. He looked too thin. They would have to sort that out. Hannibal’s hands slowed where they had been dicing some fresh herbs Will had growing on the windowsill.
“You’ve raised her well I see.”
“With no help from you you mean.”
“You needed none from me.” Hannibal remained focused on his task, head lowered and eyes averted. “Why Mischa though?”
“To my memory your sister was the last thing you really loved.” Hannibal did look up then his eyes catching Will’s in a reprimanding way. There was a tinge of Alpha red at the edge of his iris. CLICK! Will clicked his tongue like he would at one of his dogs when they got too rough. Hannibal blinked, shocked by the sound and the red faded. Hannibal looked deeply offended by the fact. Will suppressed a chuckle. The same trick worked on his- their daughter. “I had hoped that if-” he cleared his throat “when you came home it would endear you to her.”
“Last I heard, you were to be married.”
Will barked a sudden laugh. “Is that what they told you?” He wasn’t surprised; Alana had become somewhat vindictive since her fall.
“Am I to take it you were not?”
“No I was definitely not.” Will cleared his throat folding his arms. I stayed in Wolf Trap for a few months, when I started to show when I knew about Mischa Chiyou found me. Whisked me away, dogs included and we lived in Florence for a while. Single Omegas with children are more common on this side of the Atlantic.”
“Presumably to the outside observer your relation to Chiyou could have been misconstrued as a partnership.”
“Possibly.” Will agreed. “I wasn't easy. Pregnancy hit me hard, sickness, hormones the whole nine yards. I'm surprised Chiyou stayed.”
“She's still here?”
“She's around, comes and goes. I don't ask questions neither does she.”
Will sensed Hannibal’s hunger to know more. To know what his Omega had done without him.
“At the age of 5, Mischa began displaying aggressive behaviour in kindergarten. Not long after that she presented Enigma. It didn’t take long for her to be ostracised by the other children her age. she was viewed as something-” he paused; he had been the same when he was that age, too odd for the other kids to understand “other.”
“Much like yourself.”
Nail, meet hammer. It was nice to have Hannibal’s insight into his life once more, how he instinctively grasped things was refreshing.
“She was lucky enough not to inherit my empathy in that regard but she was still too astute for her own good. Always getting into trouble. She read Dante when she was 6. Said the other books were too boring.” Hannibal gave a breathy laugh. “I blame you for her taste in literature.” Will pointed a spatula at him from where he had picked it up off the counter. The accused man merely raised his hands in surrender looking more and more relaxed as the conversation progressed. He didn’t speak but waited for Will to continue. Will took a small break whilst he plated up the roast potatoes.
“There was an incident when she turned 7. That's what made us move here. A boy in her class had been throwing stones at a stray dog in the playground. She took one of her pencils and stabbed it in his eye.” Hannibal was grinning. “ I was called into school. Mischa sat on her chair, nose high and a defiant gleam in her eyes. The poor teacher tried to make her apologise to the boy's parents. Mischa was tender with any animal or any creature, humans included. But to get on the wrong side of her was to be under God's judgement. It was like holding back a savage beast. You should have seen the state of her teacher’s arms, bitten and scratched so bloody he needed stitches after he managed to separate them.” Will began loading up the steamed vegetables and boiling the gravy. “She nearly killed that boy. He was lucky he only lost his eye. When we got home with a stern letter demanding she be submitted to ‘anger therapy’, I asked her in more detail why she had done it and she told me about the dog. And that the boy was really rude.” He turned back to Hannibal “Your influence, no matter how far away, was very poignant in her upbringing. Oh don’t look so proud Hannibal. We left that night with a new dog.”
“She hungered for the hunt.”
“That honour I have left to you to teach.”
“Have you?” Will guessed Hannibal had thought as much but Hannibal asked all the same, taking the orange sauce from the stove and pouring it into a sauce boat from which it could be drizzled lavishly over their meal.
“Not my area of expertise.”
“You are the fishermen.” He nodded his head.
“She is a fisherman too. She just needs to learn the proper way to hunt from a natural predator.”
They paused as Will took the lamb from the oven and let Hannibal carve it. He twirled the knife in skilled fingers. Show off.
“I see that we are not eating pig today.” He observed after the first cut.
“Just some lamb from the market. There's not been any pig on this table for 18 years. But I do have a fresh batch of salmon in the freezer. Maybe we can have that tomorrow for lunch?”
“I look forward to the experience.”
Will went to the back door and called loudly.
“Mischa! Come set the table!”
“Coming!” Came the reply and soon Mischa bounded through the doorway bustling the dogs in while they wove around her legs. One of the dogs had a visible scar over its eye. She was flushed from the cold and dusted in a scattering of fresh snowflakes. Will whistled and all seven dogs turned to him. He then procured Hannibal's help setting out their dog bowls. Will still made all their food himself and had a supply in the pantry. He made all dogs wait patiently while their food was laid out. The scared one was whining and he soothed it with a gentle pat. With a clap of his hands all dogs dived into their bowls.
“The table’s set. Do you need help carrying anything?” Mischa leaned on the island counter pulling her hat off and ruffling her hair.
“No, we're fine. Thank you, darling. Take a seat, we’ll be with you in a moment.”
She looked between them, shrugged then sat down at the round table. Will let Hannibal lead. Allowing him to place the meat and side dishes how he pleased. He obviously enjoyed it, turning the plates until they were angled just so.