Chapter Text
When Will walks into Jack’s office upon request, thoughts occupied with nothing more than his upcoming lecture on psychoanalyzing, he stops dead in his tracks.
There’s a man seated at Jack’s desk, a man who looks up at the sound of Will’s footsteps. Jack is staring at files on his desk, talking about something indistinguishable. He hasn’t yet noticed Will’s arrival, so Will studies the stranger as well as he can before Jack does see him. The stranger is staring straight at him, ignoring what Jack's saying entirely.
Will’s empathy quickly analyzes him. Well dressed. Sharp in mind. Wealthy. Handsome. That observation slips through his defenses unbidden, and Will tries to shake it off. From what he can tell, the man’s a beta, nondescript. He holds himself like an alpha, straight back and broad shoulders
However, it's a bit too forced, like he’s too aware of holding that position. Whereas Jack, a textbook alpha if Will’s ever seen one, holds himself like he thinks he’s the most powerful person in a room without even realizing. He gives orders and expects obedience as easy as breathing.
This mysterious man looks like he’d have to think about it, hesitate before doing so, and would with an authority that’s practiced instead of ingrained.
Will tries to tell himself that it’s irrelevant what this man’s dynamic is. Alpha or beta, Will can deal with it.
Maybe he’s wrong about the stranger being a beta. He’s used to Jack’s particular brand of alpha abrasiveness, as Will has always been more like Beverly, an alpha who tries not to abuse his dynamic unless he has a damn good reason. Sometimes Will forgets that there are more than two types of alphas.
It would make sense if he’s passing as an alpha, as there are many betas who do for the unfortunate biases that are still very prevalent—
And then, a bit late, his scent hits Will’s nose. A faint sweetness that Will has never smelled on an alpha, and furthermore, a scent he’s never been so biologically attracted to on an alpha.
He closes his eyes for a half second and scents the room, forgetting his surroundings in the wake of this scent that’s already making his head spin. It’s light and airy, it’s rich and deep, it’s sweet and sharp. Blood and chocolate.
It’s everything at once, every fond memory from Will’s childhood and pleasant memory from his adult life, every wet dream and every wonderful and violent nightmare. It smells like truth. It smells like home.
The man in the seat across the room, whoever he is, is an omega. He’s the best damn omega Will’s ever smelled in his life. All Will wants to do is get closer, but he pushes back his instincts with an effort. It’s never taken this much willpower to push back against them before.
Will opens his eyes and finds the omega stranger still staring at him carefully, studying. Will knows the prickle of analysis, but strangely this doesn’t smart quite as much.
Will still shifts under the scrutiny, but he doesn’t have to fight the urge to gut the man for simply sneering at him. There is no sneer. There is only cool and calculated intrigue.
Will, who has never ever been fond of eye contact with anyone anymore than strictly necessary, finds himself transfixed by the man’s brown eyes. For a moment, he’s gripped. Something about them is different, drawing him in hopelessly. The man smiles just the slightest bit, and Will’s breath hitches. He manages to smile back.
Jack shifts, and the moment is broken like a needle through a bubble. “Will, so glad you could join us.” Jack’s sarcasm slips past Will as he stares at the doctor. “This is Dr. Hannibal Lecter, one of our new consulting psychiatrists. He’s going to be assisting us with the Shrike case, and hopefully more cases in the future.”
Will nods stiffly and says nothing to him directly. What could he say, after all, to or about a man trying so desperately to hide his status?
The doctor’s voice is smooth and even, with all the gentle yet firm confidence of an alpha. The more Will hears him speak, the more he’s convinced he’s not. He and Jack converse freely, oblivious to Will’s plight. Will hardly absorbs a word, entranced as he is with the scent and the man. He has good reason to avoid psychiatrists, but this one interests him.
They hunt the Shrike together. Dr. Lecter corners Will in his motel room and feeds him, a gesture oddly sweet. That scent drives Will mad and that’s before breakfast hits his nose. Will tries to ignore the way he smiles at him over their bowls.
He wonders if they’re going to address the elephant in the room, the sweet and rich scent that is unmistakably omega. They don’t. Will being an alpha never comes up, either.
Will kills a man, and his whole world shifts. Dr. Lecter helps him in that house, steadying Will’s hands on the gun and taking it out of his reach. Wiping the blood from Will’s face with his pocket square. Will feels the very air shifting around them, the fact that both of them are forever changed.
As Jack demands, he starts seeing Dr. Lecter for therapy. Unofficial. Will thinks it’s a joke, he thinks that there’s no way this prim and proper man in thousand dollar suits and impeccable hair could ever truly know him, no matter his scent that Will is quickly growing addicted to. But then Dr. Lecter starts chipping away at the cracks.
He’s bold, plucking Will’s thoughts from his head with an unnerving accuracy that makes him defensive. The one thing Will was dreading, however, pity and scorn and disgust, is absent.
It’s the most comfortable Will has felt in years, more comfortable than he’s ever felt around Jack. That damn scent plays a part, but as far as he can tell, Hannibal never uses his omega soothing in his speech. His comfort is all natural. It would be highly unorthodox, but he has a feeling that wouldn’t deter Hannibal.
For such an obviously wealthy and cultured man, Hannibal is approachable, easy, and kind. He meets Will’s intellect as an equal, something Will is not used to. Gradually, Will finds himself opening up almost beyond his will. Opening up about how he can’t stop thinking what it is to kill, how right it felt.
And then the conversation turns to the Chesapeake Ripper, the very reason Will is here. Jack has assigned him to the Ripper’s cases since Will’s success with the Shrike, so thoroughly impressed has he been. Inevitable, but unfortunate that their pleasant conversation should take a dark turn.
Will braces himself for the sting of scorn and rejection he knows he’s about to feel. The barely there wariness, the carefully blank expression that veils discomfort. Hannibal asks, “Tell me about the Ripper. Jack brought you on to catch him. Thoughts of the Ripper must be quite frequent in your head.`”
Stupid, stupid. Will never should’ve made an offhand comment about the Ripper that led them here. He should’ve been carefully trying to steer them away.
“I’ve always found the Ripper fascinating,” Will says, daring to be honest. Might as well. There’s no hope to salvage anything here, and Dr. Lecter can seemingly read his mind. “Unique. Lonely. Unknowable, misunderstood, except to the right person.”
Hannibal clears his throat. “Those are all positive qualities. You paint him in a bright light.”
Will shrugs, waiting for it to come, for the words, I think you should see another therapist, Will, to fill the air. “I’ve had my theories since long before Jack asked me to profile him.”
Hannibal tilts his head and smiles at him when Will dares to look at him again. “Let us turn the conversation to pleasanter matters.”
Will smirks. “Why? Does my talking about the Ripper make you uncomfortable, Dr. Lecter?”
“Not at all. You may speak of whatever you wish in my presence, however, we are here to help you unwind, not stress you beyond necessary levels. I want to build trust with you. I want you to feel that when you step into my office, you are safe. Unless you insist on it, I would rather not speak of a serial killer who already consumes your daily life. Do you have an omega at home, Will?”
Will raises a brow. “This is relevant how?”
“Polite conversation. We’re getting to know each other. A simple topic of interest. Is there an omega in your life?”
He considers an array of replies, but says, “No. no opportunity. No interest.”
“Interest on your part or theirs?”
“Mine, theirs. Mostly theirs,” Will singsongs, walking around the office with his hands shoved in his pockets. He tries to remind himself to calm down, that Dr. Lecter doesn’t deserve his ire. He has every reason to ask about Will’s dating ife. It’s one of the biggest ways to find out a lot of things about a person.
“You wear no mating bite. You wear scent blockers. You do not flaunt the fact that you are an alpha, rather you seem to hide it. You don’t use your commands. You don’t intimidate or use your authority over others any more than strictly necessary. I might dare say that you are ashamed of your status, Will.”
Will smirks. He knows that Dr. Lecter is deliberately pointing out something inaccurate to give him the compulsion to defend himself with the truth, but knowing doesn’t dispel the urge. The alpha within him roars at the thought.
A beta wouldn’t ask a question like that. A beta wouldn’t know the ins and outs of an alpha as well as an omega does. This omega.
“If there’s anyone here who’s ashamed of their status, it’s not me.” Will shakes his head and smiles. “I just prefer not to force it upon people. That, and it’s as much about protecting myself. The scent blockers so that people don’t comment upon how surprising I smell.
“Not using commands so that I’m not manipulated by Jack or anyone else into using them more than I’m comfortable with. Not flaunting alpha status so that I don’t get omegas falling at my feet when I don’t want them.” He chuckles. “Not that, uh, I think that’s a frequent worry.”
Hannibal frowns, a thoughtful curiosity entering his dark eyes. A brown so rich it’s almost red, sharp in its syrupy intensity. That faint sweet smell still lingers, and Will tries not to show how much he’s gasping for it.
“If you would allow yourself the indulgence of fantasy,” Hannibal says, playing with the notebook and pen in his lap, forcefully casual, “is there a desire for an omega buried somewhere deep in your heart? Someone else at home, doting upon you in public and in private? Arm candy for the world, if one cared about that sort of thing? A sense of pride? Another soul to share your space with? To ease the stresses of your day? To conduct intimacy with?”
Will paces back over to the chairs, stopping in front of his own chair. He’s too tense to sit down, however. The smooth velvet of Hannibal’s voice washes over him in a seductive wave, dangerous in its intensity. The very sound of it puts Will’s mind right into those scenarios.
He resigned himself long ago to never having an omega, but like hell he’s going to invite that line of inquiry for Dr. Lecter. The problem with him is that he’s too good, and Will definitely does not want to share the truths about what he knows makes him an undesirable alpha with the most handsome omega he’s ever known.
He makes his voice even before replying. “Of course there’s desire. I am rigorously self controlled, but even I can’t beat instinct. I can suppress it, master it, ignore it in moments of need, but the little voice in my head will always be there. What about you? Anyone at home?”
“No,” Hannibal says, smiling lightly. Amused. He offers no more information, and Will doesn’t fish. “What did you mean when you said that if anyone here were ashamed of their status, it was not you? There is only you and I in the room.”
Will laughs outright. “I’m talking about you, of course.”
“What about me?”
“I know what you are. You hide it—you need to hide it—but not well enough.” Will takes each step towards him like a thunderclap, laying down each word like it’s the winning card in a game. He lays out his design.
Hannibal smiles, curiosity and patronization dripping from him. Scorn, for the first time. “What am I, Will?”
Will bares his teeth. “Omega.”
Hannibal’s throat bobs. For all the emotion he displays, that might as well be a scream of terror. He studies Will intently, with a tilted head. Waiting. Curious. It seems like he was expecting Will to say something else.
Will adds, “I’ll keep your secret. You’re safe from Jack, safe from me. I know why you need to keep it, and it’s none of my business otherwise.” Will smiles as politely as he knows how.
Hannibal looks vaguely amused beneath his veil of shock. “Thank you. You will tell no one.”
“No one. What reason would I have?”
Hannibal slowly nods. “What reason indeed.” He checks his watch, announces that their hour is up. “I will be seeing you here, then? Next week?”
“Yeah, though I suspect we’ll both be seeing Uncle Jack sooner than that. He likes you. He thinks you’re useful. That’s about the worst thing he could think about you if you hope for any kind of peace in your life.” Will smiles humorlessly and gathers his things from the chair he was too restless to sit in. Hannibal’s words about having an omega knock around in his head. He knows they’re going to be consuming him during every free moment; he sighs.
“Will.”
Will turns around.
Hannibal inclines his head. He’s still in his chair with his legs crossed, but Will senses that a bit of power has faded from him. “You are the first to have discovered my status in many years. I must confess, I am curious about your methods. I have been trying to determine my blunder, your secret, and cannot. How did you know? What gave me away?”
Will furrows a brow. He thought it should have been obvious. Frankly, he doesn’t know how Hannibal has managed to hide it for so long. “Your scent.”
Hannibal frowns. This seems only to perplex him further. “What about my scent?”
“It’s faint, but it’s so persistent. Even with other people in the room and the scent amplifiers that other people use, I could still smell you underneath it all.”
Hannibal smiles, closed mouth. “What do I smell of, Will?”
Will inhales deeply. “Flowers. Not the sickly sweet kind. Something sharp and acidic. Something rich.” He shrugs. “I’ve never known an alpha to smell like that.”
Hannibal nods. “Thank you for the insight. I’ll see you soon, Will.”
Will leaves the office with the distinct impression that he has the upper hand, and not in the obvious ways. He can’t get Dr. Lecter’s face out of his head, nor his voice as he said, “Do you have an omega at home, Will?”
No, no, no. The answer will always be no, no matter the timbre of Hannibal’s voice echoing in his mind.