Hannibal isn't sure what state he expects to find Will in when he drives up to Will's house on a Friday morning. It's been several days since the eventful dinner and subsequent night with Tobias, and while Will has been present in Hannibal's thoughts the entire time, his side has remained curiously absent of the man's shadow. There haven't been any more murders of Ripper-like note, and so Jack has not called Will and Hannibal to consult on anything. Hannibal had received a short debriefing telling him that it looked like Tobias had fled the state and there was an alert and warrant for his arrest, but nothing else.
If Will doesn't answer, or if something has happened to him, Hannibal may have to go create some of his own art just to force Will to interact with him again. It feels childish – Will would call it 'petulant' – like forcing a dog to learn a new trick not through reward, but through punishment.
Still, he's getting ahead of himself. Will might be sick, or he might be busy, or he might have simply deemed it unnecessary to reach out to Hannibal without the case being a factor.
Of course, he may have also reacted much worse to Tobias' death than Hannibal anticipated, but he's sure he would have been notified if Will had turned himself in, or been reported missing after harming himself or fleeing the state.
He walks up the three steps and knocks on Will's front door. He hears a shuffling inside, footsteps that are measured but slow, and then Will opens the door. He has his glasses on his face, his hair damp and dark like he's recently showered, clad in a bathrobe, t-shirt, and underwear.
He flushes when he sees Hannibal at the door and pulls his robe tight around himself. "Agent Lecter," he says, unable to meet Hannibal's gaze and instead fixing them somewhere around his neck. "This is a surprise."
Hannibal smiles, and lifts the container in his hand. "I brought breakfast."
Will's eyes flash up to his, barely for a second. He raises an eyebrow and presses his lips together, before he nods. "Thanks," he says, and steps back to allow Hannibal inside. "I'll, ah, go get dressed. You know where everything is."
Hannibal nods, and goes to the kitchen as he hears Will pad up the stairs and to his bedroom. He wonders if Will has trouble sleeping even more now – if he sleeps with the lights on or sets an alarm every hour so that he doesn't fall into REM sleep. If he has a gun or knife under his pillow.
He takes the two normal plates from a cabinet and two forks, carefully separating the egg and sausage bake he'd created from Tobias' gut. It's Will's kill, after all – he should be able to enjoy the fruits of his labor. By the time he's done, and has two glasses of water and has set the table for himself and Will, Will returns downstairs, dressed in the same t-shirt but with jeans now. Clearly he has nowhere to be today.
His hair is fluffier like he'd run a towel over his head for one last check, and he's not wearing his glasses anymore. The whole look is a soft and vulnerable one, somehow more intimate than when he'd opened the door in his underwear.
"Smells good," Will says. Hannibal places the plates at the head of the table and to the right. Will takes his seat at the right without hesitation or complaint. Hannibal smiles, and sits as well.
"A protein scramble," he says, taking his fork and pointing to each splash of color. "Sausage, egg, green peppers, and chilis. A modest offering."
"An offering," Will repeats, and takes a bite. He gives a soft hum of appreciation around the tines of his fork, and sets one elbow on the table, fixing Hannibal with a sharp look out of the corner of his eye. "People offer things for appeasement or in the hopes of gaining something in return."
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Carnivore, Won't You Come Digest Me?
FanfictionHANNIBAL LECTOR X WILL GRAHAM Role Reversal AU: Following the execution of Garrett Jacob Hobbs, Hannibal is forced to see Doctor Will Graham for a psychiatric evaluation before he can return to the field. Once cleared, Jack insists that Will shadow...