Chapter Text
To be honest, Alana had never expected Jack to go for her suggestion. She’d been pretty certain he was kidding when he asked what she thought he could do to improve team morale now that Will was out of prison and back working with the BAU. So when she’d told him to take them all to the park for a picnic, it had been in the perfectly reasonable belief that he’d take it in the spirit it was intended – one dripping in sarcasm.
She certainly hadn’t expected to be, a week later, attending said picnic with Hannibal on one arm and a huge bowl of potato salad in the other.
“Shall we add our offerings to the feast?” Hannibal asked, nodding at the long, gingham-covered trestle table with what Alana was fairly sure was a note of facetiousness rather less well hidden than usual under his unflappable politeness. He had, of course, not seen the casual setting as a reason to eschew his trademark gastronomic flair, and held in his hand a gigantic woven basket full to the brim with homemade delicacies. Her potato salad looked pretty frumpy by comparison (and Alana knew it was damn good potato salad, actually). She could only imagine how the usual array of barbecue wings and corn salad would fare. She couldn’t even give Hannibal the benefit of the doubt — he’d deliberately set out to win the picnic and she could already feel the smugness radiating off him.
“I wouldn’t want to deprive the crowd of your gourmet glory a moment longer,” she said, resolutely straight-faced. Hannibal didn’t buy it for a second.
“My dear Alana, can you be accusing me of showboating?”
“My dear Hannibal,” she shot back, “can you have the nerve to claim you’re not?”
He smiled at her, the slightly predatory one that made her shiver. “Why Dr Bloom, I believe you see right through me.” He leaned in, close enough to make her wonder if he was about to renege on his usual rule about public displays of affection, but instead simply deposited a kiss on her cheek and relieved her of her bowl, sauntering off to the picnic table with a triumphant swing in his hips.
Alana hung back a little, deliberately, all the better to take in the sight of Hannibal in his version of casual summer-wear. It was a rare event that he deemed unsuitable for his signature three-piece suits but apparently an afternoon in the park counted amongst them. And so Alana was treated to the sight of her usually formal boyfriend clad in the fewest layers she’d seen him in outside of the bedroom. Slim, rust-coloured pants sat on his hips, a much lower cut than Alana would ever have expected but one she couldn’t help but appreciate, given the way they framed the doctor’s enviable ass. Above the waist, a simple, crisp white shirt would have made Hannibal almost unrecognisably understated, were it not for the blazer carefully folded over his arm, a steely blue offset by wide windowpane check in the same colour as his pants. A different silhouette than usual but still the same elegant loudness that could belong only to Hannibal, not to mention the same sharp tailoring, precision cut to show his form to its greatest advantage.
“Hate to see him leave, love to watch him walk away?” Bev nudged Alana in the ribs, having snuck up while she was distracted.
“Can you blame me?”
“Mmm, nope. Best view for miles around.”
Behind them, someone made a noise of disgust. Both women turned to see Will skulking in their shadows.
“Got a problem, Graham?” Bev raised both her arms and Alana realised that she was toting two impressive looking water-guns in a genuinely horrible neon green. She trained them on Will, along with a wicked grin. “Cos my little friends here are just itching to take care of some troublemakers.”
“Do it and die, Katz,” Will growled. Probably in jest, Alana thought, though it could be hard to tell with Will these days.
“Big words for a guy in such a skimpy shirt,” Bev drawled. She had a point; Alana could definitely see the outline of a nipple poking through the thin cotton of Will’s tee. Shame he wasn’t in his boxers too – Alana would have pulled the trigger herself if that had been the case. She was only human, after all.
Will crossed his arms over his chest and glared. “Ok, all right, what do I have to do to avoid a soaking?”
Bev considered him for a moment, then flipped one of her guns in the air, grabbed it by the barrel and offered it to Will. “Help me take out Preller and you’ve got immunity.”
Will grinned, the kind of evil expression that explained why he freaked so many people out. “Deal.”
He and Beverly exchanged a handshake, both with a kind of wicked glee all over their faces. Alana was, if she were honest, a little jealous – she used to have that kind of camaraderie with Will. Plus, who said she didn’t like playing with (water) guns?
Then Bev pulled a pistol out of her waistband and offered it to Alana. “You want in, Dr Bloom?”
Alana’s hands itched to take her up on it. Visions of smacking Jack Crawford between the eyes with a well-aimed blast of water swam before her eyes. She was just about to take hold of the gun when a voice called out behind her.
“Alana?”
She glanced over her shoulder to see Hannibal sauntering towards the little group, having divested himself of both food and jacket.
“Sorry Dr Lecter,” Bev chirped, clearly not sorry at all, “I was trying to recruit her to our hunting party.”
Hannibal’s eyes twinkled at this, as he glanced around the group, noting the guns in both Beverly and Will’s hands. “Quite the formidable team you’re putting together, Ms Katz. May I ask what kind of quarry you are targeting?”
“Only the most dangerous game.” Will was staring straight at Hannibal as the words left his mouth, a twist to his lips somewhere between a smirk and a grimace.
“Really?” Hannibal asked, delight etched across his face. “Should I be concerned for my safety?”
Will took a step towards him, coming to stand in the space between Bev and Alana, and raised his gun, pointing it directly at Hannibal’s chest. “Scared, Dr Lecter?”
“Will!” Alana smacked him in the arm. “That’s not funny.”
Hannibal waved a placatory hand, clearly amused by Will’s behaviour. “It’s quite all right, Alana; not being a wicked witch, I believe I won’t dissolve from a little water. Besides,” he said, pointedly looking Will up and down, “I’m curious to see what will happen.”
“You smug bastard,” Will snarled, and opened fire.
An impressively forceful jet of water hit Hannibal square in the chest, creating a wet spot that immediately began to grow and spread as Will strode towards him, pumping hard and maintaining a steady stream right up until his tip was pressed directly against Hannibal. Hannibal, who hadn’t moved a muscle, hadn’t even flinched, just taken everything Will had to give with both arms open. Now he stood, watching Will and being watched back, both men panting at each other as Hannibal dripped onto the ground below, his shirt turned transparent and clinging to his flesh. Will tipped his head to the side and pressed a little harder with his gun, almost as if urging Hannibal to-
“What is your problem, Will?” Alana hissed as she and Bev reached him and wrenched him away from Hannibal. “You had better hope someone has a change of clothes so that he doesn’t have to spend all afternoon soaking wet.”
Once again Hannibal stepped in to defuse her irritation, as if she were still that overeager student he’d taken under his wing. It was just as annoying now as it had been then. “It’s no problem, Alana. I believe there’s an American expression that applies in this particular scenario. What is it…” His eyes seemed to linger a moment too long on Will, who looked like he might start squirting again at a moment’s notice. “Ah yes, ‘sun’s out, guns out,’” he concluded, gleefully. With which, Hannibal began unbuttoning his shirt as a speechless Bev, Will and Alana watched, three sets of eyes following the progress of Hannibal’s deft fingers as they travelled down his placket, revealing flashes of damp skin as they went.
Alana, who was by now very familiar with the sight of Hannibal’s torso in a state of undress, was first to recover and turned to the other two, to gauge their reactions. Bev looked mostly amused, a smirk on her face that suggested she was wondering if she had any ones stashed about her person in order to make it rain something other than water. Will, though. Will wasn’t amused, or embarrassed, or even incredulous. Will was actively staring, his already-wide eyes grown to anime proportions, his posture slightly forward-leaning, as if magnetised by the sight of Hannibal’s flesh. And then, as Hannibal finished unbuttoning and peeled off his shirt to reveal nipples slightly peaked by the cold water, Will made a soft noise that Alana would be hard-pressed to describe as anything other than a whine. He even licked his lips as he did it.
Oh. Oh.
“Will?”
No response.
“Will?” Alana tried again, waving a hand in front of Will’s face. Still nothing.
“WILL!” she yelled, which – aided by Bev delivering a smack to the back of his head – finally did the trick, making Will jump a little and come back to himself.
“What?” he asked, voice slightly strangled, his arms twitching as if to cross over his chest before he thought better of it and let them hang at his sides, fingers drumming on his thighs.
“Were you aware,” Alana began, voice clipped and cold, “that you were staring at my boyfriend’s chest?”
Will’s eyes darted from side to side, an apparent attempt to avoid both Alana’s accusing gaze and the sight of Hannibal’s slick skin. “What? No! I… no I wasn’t. Aware of that. Because I wasn’t doing it. At all.”
Alana raised an eyebrow. “Do you think I’m stupid, Will?”
“No! Of course not. You’re one of-”
“Or blind? Do you think I’m blind, Will?”
“I… no?”
“Ok, then cut the crap. Are you attracted to my boyfriend’s chest?”
“Absolutely not. Under no circumstances. I just…” Will trailed off and Alana had the impression that he was having to try very hard not to take another look at Hannibal.
“Just what?”
“Just… didn’t realise he was so…” His eyes finally lost the battle and snapped back to Hannibal’s torso. “…hairy.” The last word came out on a squeak, causing Will’s cheeks to get even redder, something Alana wouldn’t have thought physically possible. She’d be worried for his brain being starved of oxygen if she didn’t suspect its blood supply had already been diverted elsewhere anyway.
She turned back to Hannibal, almost involuntarily, already wondering how he would spin this awkward situation into something socially acceptable. Instead, she was confronted by her boyfriend staring at her former-almost-lover with a kind of hungry, yearning expression that suggested the last thing he was feeling was awkward. And was he… Was he really…
“Hannibal Lecter are you flexing right now?!” Alana yelled.
Hannibal’s face went briefly blank before he slid on an expression of patronising indulgence, but Bev headed off whatever excuse he was about to come out with. “Definitely. Sucking in his gut too,” she added, clearly torn between disgust for the vanity of men-kind and glee at confirmation that Will and Dr Lecter were hot for each other after all.
“He does not have a gut!”
Three heads turned, in various states of disbelief (and smugness, in Hannibal’s case), towards Will, who looked entirely shocked at the words that had come out of his mouth. “Well, he doesn’t,” he muttered. “Little bit soft in the middle, maybe, but it suits him-” He slapped a hand over his mouth, as if he could trap any other incriminating statements that might fly out of it.
“Why, thank you, Will,” Hannibal purred. “Coming from you, that is praise indeed.”
“Why coming from him?” Alana demanded sharply.
“Well,” Hannibal said, with infuriating deliberateness, “when one’s admirer is blessed with the proportions of the David, it is reassuring to know that one’s own imperfections are not too off-putting.”
Will’s mouth worked as he stared, apparently stunned, at Hannibal. “I- I’m not…”
“My dear Will,” Hannibal said, gliding towards him and raising a hand to cup his cheek, “you are exquisite in every way, you must know-”
At which point he was forced to break off, spluttering, as Bev pulled Alana behind her and then soaked the romantic moment. “Dude, priorities,” she drawled, once she’d finished spraying.
“What the fuck, Katz?” Will yelled, spinning round and spraying droplets everywhere like a wet dog.
“Graham, it is trashy to make out with a guy in front of his girlfriend, come on bud.”
“We weren’t! I wasn’t going to… we weren’t!”
“Weren’t we?” Hannibal purred into Will’s ear from behind, causing Will’s already-rosy blush to deepen into crimson as his hand snaked around his waist. “I must say, I find myself quite disappointed to hear that.”
Bev hefted her gun upwards and pointed it at Hannibal with a threatening expression. “I thought you were supposed to be some classy gentleman,” she said. “Alana, if you don’t dump his admittedly fine ass right now, I’m gonna waterboard the crap out of him.”
Alana watched the exchange with a strange sense of distance, as she realised one very important fact: she did not want one single, solitary part of whatever dumb fucking shit was going on between Will and Hannibal. She stepped around Bev, putting herself in front of the still-dripping Will and Hannibal.
“Ok,” she declared, “since I’m the only grown-up here, I’m making some decisions. Hannibal, we’re breaking up. If you’re very nice I might allow you to continue being my friend in a few weeks. Will, stop lying to yourself. You don’t hate Hannibal, you’re in love with him and you’re not even subtle about it. And,” she continued, poking him in the chest to drive the point home, “if you dare try to deny it after the display you just gave, I’ll… I’ll… I’ll tell Jack you two have been getting it on behind his back. And in his office.”
Will looked utterly horrified at the prospect and even Hannibal gave a small moue of disquiet.
“You wouldn’t,” Will whispered.
“Watch me.” Alana patted his cheek, just hard enough to sting. “Now, since that’s all sorted, I don’t want to look at you assholes any more. I think I could do with a drink.”
“I can help you out there, Doc, my contribution to the potluck was entirely in the form of grain alcohol.” Bev grinned, clearly having the time of her life watching this romantic drama explode right in front of her.
“I…” Will looked all around himself, as if searching for something that would make sense of what had just happened. Eventually, he gave a tiny shrug that still seemed to express total, incredulous helplessness and looked down at Hannibal’s hand, resting firmly on his stomach. “…don’t understand what just happened.”
“That’s ok,” Alana said, “Hannibal does, and he’s just itching to explain it to you.”
“Indeed,” Hannibal said, coming round to Will’s side and taking his hand, “let us find a quiet spot. I believe we need to talk, darling. Thank you, Alana. Miss Katz,” he added, as Bev singularly failed to stifle a snort of laughter at Will’s open-mouthed reaction to darling.
They watched, as Hannibal led a dazed but unresisting Will away from them by the hand. Alana wondered for a brief moment if she’d done the right thing, if either of them was really safe for the other. Then she shrugged and remembered that she really didn’t give a shit.
“Well, damn, looks like I’m out a partner for Preller hunting,” said Bev, and then gave Alana a sly, sidewise look. “Unless you’re up for a little target practice, Doc?”
Once again, she offered Alana the pistol. Alana eyed it, unimpressed, and crossed her arms. “Either I’m an equal partner, or I’m out.”
Bev grinned and switched the pistol for the full-sized shooter Will had discarded. “Atta girl,” she beamed, as Alana grabbed it, “always wanted to see you in action.” Her grin had twisted into a smirk. It was, Alana had to admit, pretty hot.
“Help me take out a hit on Jack after we crush your nerd boys and maybe I’ll show you just how good I am.”
Bev raised a finger to give a lazy salute, her eyes glittering. “Gladly, ma’am.”
A little while later, as she and Bev were hunting for Price and Zeller, who had run like cowards the first time they’d been tracked down, they found Will and Hannibal again. They’d managed to get Will out of his soaked shirt but apparently no further, since Will currently had Hannibal pinned against his car and was furiously making out with him. His hands were, Alana noticed, buried in Hannibal’s chest hair. Then again, Hannibal’s hands were firmly kneading Will’s ass so it looked like everybody got what they wanted. Including Alana, who got her own chance to spray them like a pair of misbehaving cats, secure in the knowledge that Hannibal would either have to get his precious Bentley wet, or allow his skin to make contact with Will’s dog hair covered upholstery.
“Knew you had a bad side,” Bev cackled as they walked away.
“Only when provoked.”
Bev waggled her eyebrows. “I can be extremely provocative, you know.”
Alana bumped their hips together gently and raised an eyebrow of her own. “Promise?”