Behind the Mask: A Hannigram Fanfiction

3- Il Pasto

It became clear to William rather quickly who the rulers of the party were. Chilton and Bedelia were frequently engaged in conversations, the crowd laughing heartily at everything they had to say. They seemed to know everyone around.
     They were popular, for sure, but they were nothing compared to Hannibal Lecter. The man would pop in and out of the room at completely random intervals, seemingly very busy, but everyone always had something to say to him. He would always respond, and whoever he'd spoken to would walk away a little brighter.
William's eyes were consistently drawn to that gross shade of blue, that man in the waistcoat who dragged Hannibal around like a dog on a leash. Hannibal seemed exasperated at the mere sight of him, and at one point William noticed them caught up in a silent argument. They were whispering to each other with furrowed brows, and Hannibal had a fire in his gaze that made William cower even from a distance.
He forgot about it the moment that Hannibal passed by him, resting his fingers on the small of William's back for a prolonged moment before walking away. It nearly sent William into a stupor.
He had been walking past William on his way to a group of three, two women and a man. The man, slim with cropped hair and glasses, was wearing a fur coat that reached the ground. He had one woman on his arm and another at a great distance.
William knew who they were, of course. The Vergers: Mason, his wife Alana, and his sister Margot. Only the most prestigious businessman in Florence, Mason's pork products had made him richer than sin. He and his wife had taken in his sister, a few years younger than him in age, after she'd been weakened by an illness a few years ago. Judging by the way she was looking at him, they didn't get along well. Never do business with family, everyone said, and the Vergers were the epitome of that.
Mason spoke to Hannibal briefly, a flashy smile on his face. Alana lowered her head, smiling softly under the curtain of her dark hair, and Margot simply stared at the two men as they interacted. There was something in her face that was sharp, intimidating. She was sharp everywhere, in fact. Pointed. Will moved closer.
"Now, you know I'm not a doctor, unless you count a pig surgeon." Mason guffawed. "I know if I was, though, I'd have this position thrown at my feet."
Hannibal's smile was clearly forced. "Where would we be if you didn't stick to the pork business? Without our prosciutto? Blasphemy."
"Remind me to slaughter you a hog, my friend." Mason clapped Hannibal's shoulder. "A gift."
"You know I'll take you up on that." Hannibal swiveled around as that same man tugged on his sleeve, and with a large sigh he moved to follow. "Excuse me," he said, and Mason waved him off.
William considered going up to introduce himself, but that thought was broken by the sound of a large bell ringing throughout the room. He jolted, and the room quickly quieted down.
     "I ask that everyone please find their seats," Hannibal called out to the room. His voice was commanding and smooth, and everyone obeyed. "Dinner will be out in just a moment."
The room had been decked with round tables covered in white lace tablecloths. There were small cards at each seat with a name written in calligraphy, with about six to each table. William walked quickly around the room, trying to find his, and he was startled by a sudden hand on his shoulder.
"I moved you," Hannibal said in a low voice. "I'll be damned if you spend more time with Chilton than with me." He winked.
     "If I'm not mistaken, I'd say you were falling for me, Hannibal," William replied.
     Hannibal merely stared at him for a moment, his eyes sparkling, and the corner of his mouth eventually quirked up. He didn't answer in words; he let his hand travel down William's arm and entwined their fingers together. He gave William's hand a light squeeze before letting go, smiling softly as he turned to lead them to their table.
     William was smitten. He would follow that man anywhere.
     They sat together at the table and bantered with the others, but William was focused heavily on Hannibal. All of the other voices were drowned out in favor of his, the rest of the world blurred while he was in sharp focus. There was something so magnetizing about him, like he knew exactly how to draw attention to himself and win everyone's praise. He was a master of charm.
When the food came, William couldn't help the way his mouth watered. It all smelled so delicious. There was so much of it, too— appetizers and salad and entrées and palate cleansers..much different from the few lone bites he was used to. He didn't want to appear gluttonous, but all of that worry melted away when the first bite entered his mouth.
Each bite was a new experience. He was exposed to flavors he'd never tried before: salty, almost fruity prosciutto, thinly sliced with ripe tomatoes on crunchy bread. Herbs dancing on his tongue, fresh and aged cheeses, savory meat with sweet sauces and squeezes of fresh lemon. He kept a moderate pace, as he had to take the time to savor every bite. He pretended to listen to the other guests' conversations, when in reality he was lost in this new world of food. It felt so good to nourish his body. So, so good. He nearly wanted to sink to his knees and thank Hannibal.
When he finally found himself stuffed, a completely unfamiliar feeling, Hannibal placed his hand on his thigh under the tablecloth. William felt his warm palm through the fabric of his pants, and he relished in the feeling. What a perfect night this was.
Hannibal began to massage William's thigh, and William had to stop himself from turning bright red. He placed his hand on top of Hannibal's, feeling his skin...
Hannibal stood. The tables around them all turned to look, drawn to him. He picked up his fork and tapped it against his glass of wine, silencing the room.
"Thank you all for being here," he said with a smile. "I hope you all are enjoying the food."
The room erupted with clapping. Hannibal brightened and waited patiently for it to die down.
"Good to know." Polite laughter from the guests. "As some of you may already be aware, I am on the lookout for a new trainee. Someone who can take the place of my previous assistant, who followed his heart to the United Kingdom. I'm sad to see him go, but I'm grateful for a new opportunity as well."
He paused. "Normally, a search like this would take a few days to process, but..I'm pleased to say a decision has already been made."
The room was on edge. The silence was deafening. William felt dread settling in his stomach as he realized what was about to happen. He didn't want things to go like this— he wanted to get the position for his talent, not for pity or lust.
"I'd like to introduce William Graham."
William held back his disappointed expression as he took Hannibal's hand. He stood along with him, blinking in surprise when he realized how full his stomach actually was. It nearly sent him off balance.
"My new assistant, William Graham." Hannibal smiled. "Please give him a warm congratulations."
The guests began to applaud. William glanced around the room and caught some expressions of surprise, confusion, even disgust from people like Chilton. No one knew who he was. No one cared about a nurse who was so starving that he gorged himself at anyone else's home.
He didn't deserve this. He didn't want it. He didn't know what to think.
Hannibal squeezed his hand again. "We will talk," he whispered above the noise. "But I greatly hope you'll accept."
"Hannibal, I can't—"
"We will talk," he repeated, "once this is over."
     William could do nothing but nod.
     Soon after, the party began to disperse. It was as if all of the guests lost interest the moment Doctor Lecter couldn't give them what they wanted. They were all there for the potential position, and now that slot was taken by some peasant. Someone completely out of place.
     William sheepishly accepted some congratulations from people, which were few and far between. The rest of the guests passed by him without even a glance. As the minutes passed, William found himself growing more and more tired, his eyes beginning to droop and his full stomach taking its toll on him. He knew everyone was dreading the party's clean-up.
     Once the last guest had finally left the room, and the main doors were closed, William watched as Hannibal sagged in on himself. When he turned around, he looked exhausted, and the sight of his many housekeepers waiting for his order seemed to make him even more so. Surprisingly, the man with the blue coat was missing from the group— something that William didn't pay much mind to, as his presence was nothing but a nuisance to Hannibal.
     "What time is it?" Hannibal asked.
     "Approaching midnight, Doctor," one of the men answered immediately.
     "Oh, I can't bear the thought of it. Go home. All of you." He smiled softly. "Except for William, that is— I have to talk to him. I will take care of the cleaning tomorrow. You all must rest, I demand it. I'll pay you first thing on Monday."
      The group stood there for a moment, bewildered, and once they noticed that Hannibal was serious they all erupted in praise. They bowed their heads to him, thanking him and shaking his hand as they walked out of the villa. They were giddy, like they couldn't believe this was really happening.
     The doors loudly closed behind them, and William was left alone with Hannibal. It was the first time they'd been together in true silence, true isolation.
     "You're in a very good mood," Will remarked.
     "Indeed." Hannibal smiled at him. "It's been a rather lovely night." He moved closer, taking William's hand. "So, so lovely."
"I agree."
"I promise, I'll speak to you about the job soon, but I think we should wait until we're both more present. How far is your home from here?"
"Oh, not bad. Five minutes at most." That was something that had surprised William— that two people from completely different worlds could also be so close. All he had to do was turn a street corner, and there was the villa. It came with being so close to the market, he supposed. "I'll be just fine walking."
Quite frankly, he was glad that Hannibal wasn't pushing for more. He was too tired to continue to be a person— he just wanted to lay down and not have to impress anyone.
"I want you to come for dinner tomorrow. Just the two of us." Hannibal's eyes were full of hope. "Please?"
"I wouldn't miss that for the world, Hannibal." William broke into a grin, one that Hannibal wholeheartedly returned. There was a moment where they stared into each other's eyes, the smiles slowly slipping from their faces, and before either of them knew it they were leaning towards each other, pressing their lips together. William felt his heart leap to his throat, and Hannibal squeezed his hand. The exchange was brief, but they were both pleasantly shocked.
"Tomorrow," Hannibal repeated. "Seven. I promise it won't be a mess in here."
"It could be a pigsty in here and I would still be all over you." The words came out before William could stop them— he was feeling brave tonight. He was finally full and warm, finally hopeful for what was to come.
Hannibal gave him another brief kiss before opening the door for him. "Please be safe, dear."
"Thank you." William's stomach fluttered. "I will."