Fortune's Fool (Hannibal Fanfiction)

XIII: Dinner To-Go

It wasn't until after Will had composed himself and reentered the bedroom that he noticed a little note, written on hotel stationery, that had been slipped under the door separating his room from Hannibal's. He bent to pick it up and was greeted by graceful lettering, almost calligraphic:

Knock on the door when you wake up. I have dinner.  - H L

Will was torn between exasperation and gratitude. Of course Hannibal wrote in fine calligraphy, even with a shitty pen on shitty paper, and signed his initials on casual notes as if he were penning a formal letter. Will pulled on his jeans and plaid button-down, which he opted to leave open and unbuttoned over his undershirt, and knocked on the door after unlocking his side. A few moments later, the lock on the other side clicked open, and Hannibal ushered him in.

Hannibal's hotel room was a mirror image of Will's, except neater, with his suitcase and personal belongings all stowed out of sight. Like Will, Hannibal had opted to dress a little more loosely: his suit jacket was draped over a chair, his tie was no longer pulled tight, and the sleeves of his dress shirt were rolled up almost to the elbows. Will ran a hand through his curls, suddenly worried that his nightmare-fueled sweat was noticeably pungent, but if it was, Hannibal mercifully didn't comment. Instead, he pulled a to-go container out of the paper bag sitting on the hotel desk and handed it to Will with a fork and napkin.

"Applewood-smoked scallops with corn grits and mushrooms."

Will opened the container and raised his eyebrows at Hannibal. "You remembered what I said I might order last night?"

Hannibal looked at him with a blank expression, as if Will was the weird one for being surprised. "Yes." Then he took out his to-go container, sat down in the chair on which he had draped his suit jacket, and began to eat. When Will continued to stand there, Hannibal waved his fork at the armchair in the corner. "Please, sit."

Will sat and dug into his food. It was still warm, so Hannibal must have gotten it recently. It was delicious, but Will couldn't help but remember that this entrée cost almost thirty dollars. He decided after a few bites that it wasn't worth starting up the wealth argument again. Hannibal was clearly drowning in money. He could do whatever he damn well pleased with it, even if Will found it to be a waste.

"So," Hannibal said, after a few minutes of silence. "How are you feeling? Better?"

Will frowned and speared a mushroom with his fork. He didn't want to talk about his nightmare. "Better is relative."

"Most everything is relative." Hannibal stood up and got two bottles of water out of the mini fridge, handing one to Will. "That doesn't make our experiences any less valid."

Will grunted. "I'm not worried about validity." No, he was worried about his sanity, but Hannibal would probably label that 'relative' as well, and he was not in the mood for that conversation right now.

"What is our killer worried about?"

Will unscrewed the top of his water bottle. "Ethics," he said slowly. "He's worried about ethics."

"Ethics is a very broad category, and, one could argue, quite relative." Hannibal was looking at him, but Will wasn't in the mood for eye contact, either, so he drank his water to avoid it. "What ethical code does our killer follow?"

"I don't know. I'd say some kind of vigilantism, correcting wrongs done by the justice system or citizens at large, but the second murder doesn't make sense in that context. If we didn't have a DNA match, I don't know if I would have connected it to the others."

"Do you think someone framed this killer for the second murder?"

Will paused, and then shook his head. "No. There's just...something missing." He sighed and twisted the top of his water bottle back and forth. "I, uh... There's an event, either coming up or currently going on, that I think the killer would enjoy. There's usually some kind of travelling carnival that sets up on the Fair Grounds before Thanksgiving. If it's happening this year, I think we should go. It'll...it'll help my profile."

"If you think it would be useful, I don't see why not."

Will nodded and poked at his food. "I'll check online before we go to make sure I'm remembering it correctly. If I am, tomorrow is as good as any day to go. It's not like we have any other leads."

Hannibal made a noise of agreement. In the silence that followed, his eyes lingered on Will's half-full to-go container, but he didn't comment. Will was grateful for that, because he still felt a little queasy from earlier. Instead, Hannibal took the time to finish his dinner and place the to-go container in the trash, and then said,

"Do you have an idea of what time?"

Will, who had gone back to picking through his food, startled slightly and looked up. "Um, depends on when it's open, but likely in the early afternoon. Sometime after lunch."

That seemed to satisfy Hannibal, who sat down on the edge of his bed and began to undo his tie. Will assumed that was his cue to leave and closed up his to-go container. He didn't know if he could eat much more, anyway. He stood, leftovers in one hand and his mostly empty water bottle in the other, and said awkwardly, "Uh, thanks for dinner."

"It was my pleasure."

Hannibal stood up and moved to the door to open it for him, but he paused partway, his eyes lingering on Will. He reached out and straightened the collar of Will's unbuttoned shirt. Then he lifted a hand to his forehead, gently pushing the sweaty curls away from his face. His calloused hand felt impossibly cool against Will's skin. He was so close that Will could feel his body heat and smell the faint vestiges of his cologne, something faintly spiced and natural, like sandalwood and sage.

"You're running a fever," Hannibal murmured, his breath ghosting over Will's skin. "Have you taken any fever reducers recently?"

Will squeezed his eyes shut to try to concentrate, feeling a little off-kilter. "Um, when...when we got back."

Hannibal hummed. "Good. Take another, and drink more water. That will help your fever, along with a good night's sleep."

He drew away abruptly and opened the door between their rooms, leaving Will free to leave.

"If you need anything, just let me know," Hannibal said as Will walked out, his tone back to being matter-of-fact. "Don't worry about waking me. Good night, Will."

"Good night."

The door closed. Will stood with his back against the door for longer than strictly necessary and waited for the strange heat pooling in his stomach to fade.