Fortune's Fool (Hannibal Fanfiction)

IV: Welcome to the South

By the time the plane landed in the New Orleans metropolitan area, Will was drained and ready to crash at the nearest halfway-decent hotel. He and Hannibal made their way to the baggage claim and then out into the parking lot. It was warmer than it had been in Virginia, even in the darkness of a mid-November night, and humid, with only a faint breeze to stir the air.

Once they secured a rental car, Will slid into the driver's seat, while Hannibal slid into the passenger's. Hannibal held a flimsy, foldable map of New Orleans that the rental man had handed him.

"I must admit I've never visited New Orleans before," Hannibal said, clutching the map and looking a little lost.

Will felt a small stab of satisfaction, as mean as that was. Hannibal usually seemed so put-together and all-around knowledgeable, even in new situations. This was one of the few times Will had seen a hint of genuine discomfort in his facial expressions or body language, so sue him if it gave him a surge of quiet confidence, especially given his own expertise.

"Yeah?" Will said, putting the key in the ignition. "Well, I lived in New Orleans for a few years, so I have a general idea of where we're going."

After a cursory glance over the map, Will backed out of the parking lot and headed for Metairie. Not technically a city of its own, it sat between Kenner, where the airport was, and New Orleans city proper. Will hoped that the hotels might be slightly cheaper there than in the city — and the first body had been found in Metairie, so it made sense to set their base of operations there, even if only temporarily.

Will drove with the windows down. Out here, away from the city center, the smells were softer and slightly more natural. Wind from the north brought the briny smell of the lake, while wind from the south brought the industrialized smell of the Mississippi, which snaked its way through lower Louisiana. Will had hoped that the breeze would blow away the worst of his sickliness, but instead the humidity stuck uncomfortably to his sweaty skin. He swore inwardly. He really couldn't afford to be sick on this case, especially when it was just him and Hannibal out in the field.

Fucking Jack. Some days he seriously resented him.

Thankfully, it was a short drive from the airport to the nearest hotel that Will had deemed acceptable and not-too-pricey. If Hannibal had any objections as to the quality of the place, he didn't make them known. Will was grateful for that — Hannibal may have been rolling in money, but there was only so much he could afford on a teacher's salary, just as there was only so much that his federal travel card would cover.

Will found a place to park, and they entered. As they approached the front desk, the desk clerk glanced up from his computer to greet them. Something about his face changed as soon as he saw them. He gave them a poorly-disguised distasteful once-over before he drawled, "How can I help you two fine gentlemen this evening?"

It didn't take an empath to catch the mocking sneer underneath a thin veneer of politeness. The clerk's smug judgment, as if he knew anything about them or their relationship, made Will's blood boil. But if this guy wanted to play the polite asshole, two could play that game. Will immediately mirrored the clerk's passive-aggression and gave him his best shit-eating smile.

"Two single rooms, please," Will said, flipping out his government ID and slipping back into his faint Louisiana drawl easily, as if he had never trained himself out of it. He relished the way the color drained from the clerk's already white face as his eyes landed on the ID. "Does this hotel offer a lower federal rate?"

The man's countenance changed completely. He was clearly flustered and mortified, which intensified as he cottoned on to Will's native accent. "Oh, uh, yes, sir, yes, we do. Um. Will, uh, those rooms be connected, sir?"

Will glanced at Hannibal, who said politely, "Connected is fine."

"Yes, sir," the clerk said hastily, typing away at the computer. He was avoiding eye contact with Will, very poorly, Will thought spitefully. "Two singles with queen beds, a connecting door, and, um. For how many nights?"

Will scrubbed a hand across his beard. "Let's go with a week, to start." He flashed the clerk another sharp, predatory smile. "That may change, you understand."

The old man looked ready to sink into the floor and disappear forever as he muttered his understanding.

When everything was finally squared away, they left the front desk and headed to their rooms on the third floor. On the way up, Hannibal said thoughtfully, "I think the employee assumed that we were not here on official business. His initial behavior was rudeness veiled as social niceties."

Will snorted, half-bitter and half-disdainful. "Welcome to the South, Hannibal," he said, leaning harder into his natural accent. "Where everyone is rude, but they're so damn polite about it. They're usually not so overt about their homophobia, but two men coming into a hotel together to look for a place to stay? That's blasphemy." Will shook his head, trying to clear away the anger that had settled there. "If I'd remembered, I'd've warned you it was a possibility. It's generally less overt in New Orleans, but more overt the farther from the city center you go. Good rule of thumb for the entire country, I suppose."

Hannibal hummed in affirmation. When they reached their rooms, he glanced at Will.

"Letting your old inflections come through?" he said, eyes passing over Will's lips.

For a moment, Will felt self-conscious, but it passed immediately. Of all people, he highly doubted Hannibal was judging. Hannibal knew what it was like, with his unusual Lithuanian accent causing stares and odd looks whenever he spoke around strangers.

"I spent most of my life in northern and central Louisiana and went to school in New Orleans. I learned to cover up my accent when I moved north so people'd take me more seriously, but down here, I see no reason to fight it."

Hannibal pursed his lips. "I see no reason to fight it in general. No one dialect has superiority over another. Yours has its charm."

Will looked at Hannibal, but he couldn't read his face; it had fallen into that curiously neutral expression of his. After a moment of contemplation, Will figured he was being serious.

"Thanks," he said. "If only other people thought that way." He unlocked his door. "Good night, Hannibal." He made to lug his suitcase into his room, but Hannibal stopped him with a sharp "wait."

"Are you not going to eat dinner?" he said, sounding slightly affronted.

Will shrugged. "I'm tired. It's been a long day. I can eat in the morning."

"No," Hannibal said firmly. "Neglecting your nutritional health in order to get more sleep is unbeneficial in the long run. Skipping meals is not going to help you solve this case, long day or not. We're going to dinner."

Will let out a slow sigh, running his fingers through his hair. He was exhausted and a little feverish and had a building headache threatening to reignite his skull, but the thought of trying to argue with Hannibal made him feel even more bone-weary.

"Fine," he said eventually. "But only if you pick the restaurant and do the driving."

Hannibal smiled genuinely. "It would be my pleasure."