What Could Have Been- A Hannigram Fanfiction

Please Don't Lie to Me

Hannibal groans. "Will, my dear, you are a menace."

They have moved into the kitchen, the promise of hot chocolate simmering on the stove. Will grins at the smell. He loves the way Hannibal fixes the drink; it's more of a dessert. Whole milk and gourmet chocolate, topped with homemade marshmallows and a dollop of cream. It makes him giddy just thinking about it.

But now, he blushes. "Shit. Did you--"

"What on Earth is this?" Sure enough, Will hears the crinkling of cellophane as Hannibal pulls out the Doritos back from its hiding place in the pantry. He then gasps in betrayal, pulling out the Twinkies, as well.

"You gotta let me have my little guilty pleasures, baby." Will bats his eyelashes.

"This stuff is terrible for your body. What even is a..." He trails off. "Do-rih-toe? Is that what it is?"

Will laughs. "That was very European of you just then."

"English is my fifth language. Give me a break." He pops Will on the head with the Twinkie box. "I don't understand the appeal."

"You'd feel different if you tried one. I promise."

"Absolutely not?"

"You've never known life until you've had pure high-fructose corn syrup in your veins, Hannibal. I mean it."

"Fine, then," Hannibal says. "I suppose I'll turn off the hot chocolate. You can have one of these instead, since you worship them so much."

"No!" Will lunges to catch him before he can walk away. "I want hot chocolate."

"Of course you do." He smirks. "I'm going to save these, and you and I can look back about ten years from now. I guarantee you they will be exactly the same as we left them."

"Some guy did that with McDonald's. I gotta show you that documentary."

Hannibal shudders in disgust. "I suppose I should be glad that I never ate your brain. Considering it's full of chemicals."

Will sneers. "And encephalitis. You want my delicious, virus-ridden brain?"

"Oh, hush. That's all gone now." Another bop on the head with the box.

"That's another good story. Lots of different ways that situation could have gone."

"May I tell this one?" Hannibal turns to him, his brow furrowing. "I want to tell you what I wish I'd done."

Will notices the vulnerability in his tone, his overwhelming need to tell his side of things. It's Hannibal's version of an apology, his way of showing Will how much he really regrets his actions. Will accepts it.

"Sure."

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"I'm...having trouble thinking."

Will stood next to Hannibal in his dining room, which was dark and eerie. Hannibal had shut off all the lights, finished with dinner for the evening, but Will's unexpected arrival had put a dent in his plans. He didn't have time to turn any of the lamps back on-- he didn't dare turn his back on the man with the gun.

Abel Gideon sat at the table, staring at the two of them while they talked. Will had brought him there, holding a gun to Gideon's head. That gun was still in his trembling hand.

"I'm losing my mind. I don't know what's real," Will continued, his voice cracking. Hannibal shifted his gaze from Will to Gideon. Gideon to Will. He glanced down at his watch.