Chapter Text
During the next few weeks, Hannibal had begun to grow quite bored. He had been forced to suspend his psychiatric practice for the duration of the Board’s investigation, even though the whole ordeal had been a formality. Friends in the right places, and money, of course, secured his position and social status. A few thousand dollars to the occasional sensation-seeking newspapers ensured his name was kept out of the controversial limelight. Journalistic integrity goes out of the window if one gives a high enough number, at least for most people.
He occupied himself with his various hobbies while Will was at work, and at work he spent most of his day. A tinge of suspicion grew in Hannibal, as Will’s schedule was usually quite irregular and unpredictable; nowadays, though, he returned home regularly right before bedtime. His behavior was different too, in a way that was hard to classify. He seemed more confident and equally more fidgety at the same time. Loving but harsh, tender like a bruise, passionate like a hungry animal. Dominating whenever intimacy arose, not that Hannibal complained, though he studied Will with great curiosity.
He often approached him with carefully sculpted words, just slick enough to pry out any clue about what had been happening in his beloved’s mind. Invitations to paltry conversations, which he could easily turn in a way that would suit him. Innocent baits - ones anyone else would easily fall for. But not Will. Will knew him well and he was cunning; perhaps even more so than Hannibal. And if it isn’t why Hannibal loved him so dearly.
It was a game, then, and Hannibal loved a good game. The rules weren’t set, which meant he could break them as long as Will didn’t know they were being broken. The easiest way to figure him out would be by simply stalking him. But Will would notice, and that would cascade a whole lot of consequences, so that rule had to remain intact.
Hannibal was a patient man, he would figure him out.
One evening they sat by the fireplace in their respective armchairs, with dogs scattered by their feet. Will had just come home, slumped exhausted in the chair, and kicked his feet up onto Hannibal’s lap without even asking. Hannibal rearranged the position of the book he’d been reading to the top of Will’s shins, sending him a glance of annoyed fondness. Will smiled at him, proud of himself. He closed his eyes and relaxed in the chair.
“Have you considered taking some time off work, Love? You’re exhausted,” Hannibal asked, petting his leg. Setting the bait, waiting for the catch. Careful, careful.
Will opened one eye, eyebrow raised, to look at him. “You miss me?” he murmured with a smirk.
“Of course I miss you.” Like an addict needing his fix.
“It’s just temporary, Hannibal,” he said warmly. “I’ll be home more, soon.”
Hannibal positioned his head in a way that best allowed him to study Will’s reaction and prepared his throat to produce the exact tone of voice he wanted. Affectionate and non-threatening. “I could easily support the both of us. If you’d like.”
Will opened and narrowed his eyes. “You want me to quit my job,” he said blankly.
“That or you could focus solely on teaching. Fewer hours, less stress,” he lulled him.
Will looked at him stolidly, then turned his attention to the dog lying to his side and caressed her fur. “We domesticated them to the point of total dependency. So that they wouldn’t be able to ever leave us,” he murmured calmly.
Hannibal smirked. “Do you think I’m trying to make you dependent on me, Will?”
Will laughed, looking at the man with a curious shade of affection. “I think it’s needless for us to pretend that’s not what you’ve been trying to achieve.” He nudged Hannibal’s book with his foot, the same way a cat would do. “Good news, Hannibal. I’m already emotionally dependent on you. Is that satisfying enough?” Despite the words, Will seemed more amused than angry.
Hannibal showed him a genuine smile, how besotted he was.
Will eyed him from under his eyelashes, ever so curious. The light from the flames danced on his features and Hannibal tried to take in every minute detail to save in his memory palace. Then Will placed his foot on Hannibal’s chest and pushed him into the armchair. When he spoke, it was a whisper, “Are you going to be a good boy, Hannibal?” A shy blush appeared on his cheeks.
Hannibal could devour him right at that moment. The adoration for his Darling could seep out of him in streams and drown them both; oh, how sweet would it feel on his tongue when he choked on it. He wanted to cut him open and crawl inside, palm his heart, and feel his heartbeat pulse through his own skin. “Yes,” he whispered back.
Will looked at him like he could read his mind, teasing him with a smirk. “Then show me,” he murmured and took his legs off of the man’s lap.
Hannibal sank to his knees.
***
A few days later, after the sun had set, Hannibal was preparing dinner in his Darling’s poorly equipped kitchen. It was nearing the time that Will had a habit of returning home. His cooking was interrupted by a text from no one other than Will, asking him to meet him at his home in Baltimore.
So the game had entered a new stage. Hannibal was excited and suspicious at the same time. He dialed Will’s number and he picked up almost immediately.
“Are you alright, Darling?” Hannibal asked, stirring a sauce in a pot.
“I’m fine,” Will assured him, sounding rather lively. “I know you don’t like surprises, but I wanted to surprise you. Consider this a no-surprise as you already know it’s a surprise.”
Hannibal chuckled. “Can the surprise wait? I’m preparing dinner.”
“Can you finish it after the surprise?” Will asked innocently.
“I’ll see what I can do.” He sighed with a sort of faked exasperation. “Do I need to dress well for this surprise?” He didn’t suspect Will of throwing him a party, but any clue he could get was useful.
Will exhaled a mix of pity and laughter. “Preferably not, Hannibal.”
***
Carefully, Hannibal entered through the front door of his townhouse and as soon as he found himself inside, the faintest familiar sweet metallic scent entered his sensitive nostrils. He frowned as his heart sped up, excited and concerned at the same time.
Will called to him when he heard the door shut, inviting him into the dining room. His voice was strangely detached now - a sharp contrast to how he’d sounded on the phone. As if he had lured him in like a siren.
Hannibal stilled in genuine astonishment when he entered the space. The smell was clear now as he stood at the end of the table, directly opposing Will standing at the other end. Between them, auburn locks of hair falling off the walnut slab, a pale complexion of her motionless face; her clothed body positioned straight as if laid to eternal rest in a coffin. But the both of them knew her body would never touch one.
Will knew. Will knew - had known for some time - yet he stayed. More than stayed.
“It was my turn to provide the meat,” Will said confidently. He stood proud, yet submissive in a way. Like a devotee offering up a sacrifice. He was beautiful, powerful, and divine.
The smile appeared on Hannibal’s lips unwittingly. He took his time to remember this moment forever. “How did you do it?”
“With my hands.” As Will spoke, Hannibal noticed the bruising on Freddie’s neck. “It was intimate.”
Such a beautiful sight, such a carefully preserved canvas. Specifically for him as if he were chosen by his God. Saved.
Will silently walked over to stand facing Hannibal, so close he could feel the man’s warmth on his skin. Will delicately caressed his face, looking into his eyes like it was a promise.
“You drugged me,” Will murmured against Hannibal’s lips, and his voice was colored more by betrayal than anger.
Hannibal broke their eye contact, looking down. Only then did he realize Will was holding a carpet knife to his stomach. He couldn’t help but smile in pride. If Will decided to gut him, he would gladly let him.
“You fed me people without my consent,” Will went on. The soft touch of his hand against Hannibal’s cheek was such a stark contrast to the tone of his voice.
Hannibal quietly studied his expression. “Will you absolve me of my sins, Will?” he asked quietly, looking him in the eyes. Hannibal leaned into him, pressing into the knife. He was curious whether Will would retract it or shove it in.
Will scoffed. “If you even so much as think of defying me like this again, I swear, Hannibal, I will fucking cut you to pieces,” he whispered with sheer venom.
Hannibal just smiled, infinitely besotted.
“I’m not joking.”
“I know you aren’t.” Which is exactly why he was smiling.
Hannibal stepped this much closer, testing him again, and this time the blade grazed his skin open. He looked at Will, full of intent, and the man’s pupils were blown wide. He holds a knife to your stomach and all you can think is ‘Oh, how wonderful it feels to impale yourself onto his love.’
Will’s lips were brushing against Hannibal’s as he spoke, holding their faces close. “I need to know that I can trust you.” There was a sort of desperation in his quiet voice. “So you will take care of her. She will never be found. She will never be tied to the Chesapeake Ripper. They won’t know she has disappeared until months from now. We will make sure of that. She doesn’t meet with people regularly, she’s often out of town. I’ve got her laptop, her phone, her car keys. The stories will keep being posted, the pictures taken - it’s like she’d never disappeared.” Will offered him a manic smile. “And finally, when the time is right, evidence will be found in the house of no one other than Dr. Frederick Chilton. And the FBI will be delighted to find out that he’d been the Ripper’s lover this whole time.”
Hannibal grinned in sheer bewilderment and adoration. His cunning boy, his wonderful, beautiful Will. All he’d ever wanted for him and more. For the both of them.
How long had he been planning this for? Such a vengeful, devastating beast.
Will grabbed Hannibal’s hair and pulled his head back to expose his neck. “Are you going to be good for me, Hannibal?”
The sheer power. A god to belong to. “Yes,” he exhaled, and Will let go of his hair.
Next thing he knew, Will was pulling him into a possessive kiss, tender and vicious, but oh, how sweet all the same. This was all Hannibal could ever be, for the rest of his days. He pressed himself into the blade and let it cut him deeper, feeling the warmth of his blood as it slowly soaked through his sweater. He wrapped his arms around Will.
“I love you, Will,” Hannibal exhaled against his lips. I’m yours, forever yours. Please, take me.
Will looked him deeply in the eyes and Hannibal could feel the blade shake inside his skin. “I love you, too,” his voice wavered like it was painful to say it. But he meant it; pain being the most sincere of feelings.
Then Hannibal felt the blade slowly slide across his stomach, not going in any deeper than where it already was. Hot burning pain, but a welcomed one. It would need stitches, but not a hospital visit. He welcomed the pain, more so he enjoyed how much Will seemed to enjoy it. Mutually assured destruction.
Will shushed the quiet grunts Hannibal let out, stroking his face with utmost reverence, comforting him. Hannibal was more than ready to suffer for his love. He had never felt more loved than in this very moment, being sliced open. Atoning for his sins, earning his God’s forgiveness, his love. He was being purified; it was his deliverance.
“Hannibal?” Will caressed his face, smiling. “Do you want to get married?”
Perhaps the shock of these words was greater to him than everything else that had happened this evening so far. He found himself at an unexpected loss for words, so he just kept nodding his head. He clutched onto Will with all the force within him and he heard the knife fall to the floor. Will grabbed him in his arms and they held onto each other as if there was any force that could pull them apart.
A stinging pain made itself known when Will pressed his palm against Hannibal’s wound. Will caressed his hair when Hannibal let out a pained breath. An equal parts comfort and a reward for suffering so beautifully, just for him.
“I won’t let them take you. I won’t let you leave,” Will whispered into Hannibal’s neck, stroking his hair.
Hannibal just kept nodding, feeling his eyes sting. He was overwhelmed with emotions he couldn’t even name. So alien, so unusual, so terrifying. To feel. It was so terrifying to feel. Being seen, being loved, for who he was, for the monster he was, and despite him. Being accepted, cherished. He wasn’t alone anymore. He was loved, truly loved. Will wouldn’t leave. He wouldn’t let him leave. They were one, finally. Conjoined, inseparable.
He never thought he would find a man, who would see him and still hold him the way Will did now. Will stroked his back and his hair and he kept him safe. They would keep each other safe now.
His God had taken mercy on him. His God was powerful, violent, yet loving and merciful. His God cradled him in his arms while He cut him open because gods demand a sacrifice. Hannibal would sacrifice anything for Him. He would worship Him until the end of his days.
***
The sun was rising through a low fog in the flatlands of wet grass, occasionally dispersing around the tree trunks, flowing with the gentle morning wind. The rays shone through the cracks in the stone walls of the dilapidated church, a darker shade of blue of the sky standing in place of a roof, gradually blending into yellow where it met the horizon.
There was no one there but the two of them, solitary yet complete like the men who held their hearts out for each other. Unnecessary to be witnessed by anyone else, existing only for the other. A work of art complete without an observer.
There were remnants of old blood in the cracked tiles of the church, right underneath Will’s feet, where he stood now at the altar. The artwork once present may have been gone now but the intention was still left in those cracks, forever entombed. It was inside of them. New artwork was being created, the muse positioned in the center as if everything that surrounded him existed merely to enhance his beauty. Will had let himself be dressed in a finely tailored suit, that Hannibal had ordered specifically for this occasion, in exchange for the lack of an opulent wedding ceremony.
Hannibal delicately ascended the altar steps, his fresh stomach scar still pulling when he moved. A golden wedding band was a subtle weight in the pocket of his suit jacket, soon to adorn his Love’s hand.
“Did you make it for me?” Will asked him, a gentle smile on his face. “The tableau in here.”
Hannibal grabbed his hand as they stood facing each other. “I made all of them for you, Will. Ever since I’ve met you,” he replied reverently.
Will looked at him with that sweet possessiveness of his, enamored by the man’s words, electrified with power over him. His eyes softened then and a small frown appeared between his brows as he stepped closer to Hannibal. “If I could, I would feed you my heart. Just like they did,” he whispered. “I would give you my whole self. Every last bit of me.”
Hannibal’s heart skipped a beat and he let out a shaky breath. He clasped Will’s hand in his and brought it to his lips to lay a kiss upon it, then he pressed it tightly above his heart. “You have already given me more than I could have ever dreamt of having, Will.” His voice wavered. “I’m yours, Beloved.”
Will offered him the most gentle smile as he caressed Hannibal’s cheek.
“Before I met you, I'd never thought about the future. Each day was a new beginning and equally, each day could be my end,” Hannibal continued, tone full of purpose. “You made me see a future, Will.”
He could see Will’s lower lip tremble. “We were alone without each other,” Will whispered. “Always hiding a part of ourselves. Cast into the shadows.”
Hannibal nodded fervently and he brought their foreheads together, feeling like he needed to be as close to Will as possible.
“I’m never going to let you leave,” Will spoke through tears. “I’m never gonna leave you, Hannibal.” Will pulled the wedding ring out of his jacket pocket and grabbed Hannibal’s hand. “Til’ death do us part.” He softly laughed through his tears, like the most beautiful creature on Earth, then slid the ring onto Hannibal’s finger.
Hannibal thought that he’d never felt so light in his life; so elated and exhilarated. A physical reminder of where he belonged. To whom he belonged. With a grin on his face, he put a ring on Will’s finger too as he replied, “Until death do us part, Darling.”
Then Will clutched his face and kissed him with such force it could break a tooth. Hannibal embraced his waist and lifted him, making Will let out a surprised groan against his mouth. He spun them around on the altar, in the warm rays of the sun and the earthy smell amplified by the dew.
After Will’s feet touched the ground, they remained kissing each other as if time had stopped, never satiated enough to pull apart.
Finally, breathless and with his mouth obscenely wet and red, Will pulled away and rested his head on Hannibal’s shoulder, grinning wide. “I bet you’re gonna love calling me your husband.”
Hannibal chuckled, holding Will in his arms. “I will do so with utmost pride.” He swayed him from side to side, pressing his head to Will’s. “My husband,” he whispered and kissed his head.
“My husband,” Will repeated, smiling.
They swayed like this to the inaudible music that wasn’t being played, yet they followed the same rhythm. This close, he could hear their hearts beating in sync, becoming one. Inseparable, indistinguishable, conjoined. He wondered if either of them could survive separation.