Archive of Our Own ^beta

It was close, he nearly got caught in it. 

Unknowingly, Will had managed to grab hold of Hannibal’s hand just as he was about to stumble and fall into a broken pipe. It could’ve been a horrible death for the Groom, as the deranged patients in this asylum had dubbed him, and it would’ve worked well on Will’s end. However, just as he hit the gym floor, he pulled Hannibal’s hand and they fell next to each other, with Will coughing and sputtering, drawing in deep breaths. Hannibal seemed to lay there, shocked, his scarred face lifted to meet Will’s eyes, and Will thought he might’ve died there.

“You… saved me, mylimasis.” He spoke, in that enchantingly beautiful voice of his, his maroon eyes glowing in the dark, under the shadows of the dim room. Will wheezed quietly, his throat felt tight even when he had ripped the rope off from around his neck. The pain was catching up to him, the throbbing in his ankle shooting up through his entire leg so strongly that he had to stifle back a scream.

He rescued Hannibal fucking Lecter.

This man had nothing but a twisted mind, corrupted by the many tests he had gone through, poked and prodded with so many chemicals that he probably lost count. What he had become was not his fault. His father had abused him and his mother for all his life, and it didn’t help that his mother had enabled his father at some point to survive. Will regretted looking through the patient files because they had caused him to feel  pity. 

He supposed he found a reason why he rescued Hannibal, even when he was almost murdered by the same man on multiple occasions.

Will didn’t have the energy to get up, his lungs almost collapsing to work with him when he was just denied the right to breathe a couple of seconds ago. Hannibal began to pick himself off the ground and Will could only push himself backwards, hoping to find something on the floor that could support him to get up. He was so close to the exit, he did not want to die when he could’ve gotten out. Fight, Will. Get up and fight! But Hannibal was more than just another man. He was muscular, with a lean build and a strength incomparable to Will’s.

Will felt his back against the wall, with the Groom taking slow steps towards him as they did throughout their whole chase. He had always walked so elegantly, and somehow caught up to Will each time. His breath hitched, with Hannibal’s inhuman eyes focused on him, the disfigured corpses hanging above them from the ceiling like some sick collection.

“Don’t kill me… please. I-I’m sorry for not doing anything when they put you in that chamber, I should’ve done something. I’m sorry!”

Will could feel himself growing desperate, hoping to find some sort of pity, or a change of heart, but Hannibal’s expressions remained indecipherable, kneeling down on one knee to meet Will’s eyes. “My love, you want this future with me… do you? Here I thought you were avoiding me, and enjoying the little game of cat and mouse instead.” He gingerly took Will’s hand, the makeshift ring made out of a metal wire wrapped around the base of his ring finger. 

“Be my bride. I will treat you well.”

There was nothing but doubt in Will’s head, but again, he could not blame this on Hannibal at all. He felt himself returning the pressure on the Groom’s hand, earning a pleased look on his face.

“Okay… But you’ll have to help me up. C-can you do that? I sprained my ankle, remember?” Hannibal was the one to have caused that, the open elevator chute was his only escape to flee from him temporarily. A splinter had stabbed through his ankle and it had been pulsating in pain. Will tried to retain a soft tone in his voice however, even though it was still possible for Hannibal to suddenly turn around and put him in those weird contraptions to try and make him into a biological woman. He saw what Hannibal did to those corpses, and they were all mostly experimented on when they were still alive. He was almost a victim of that. Shit, it sent a shiver down his spine.

“Of course, mylimasis.” He cooed in that sickeningly sweet voice, offering a hand. Will took it and felt himself carefully hoisted off the floor, other hand around the waist as Hannibal guided them out of that abandoned gym.

Will was staggering, tripping over rubble when he was carried over them. His pained foot didn’t make the journey easy, but he doubted Hannibal knew the way out if Will tried to rely on him. The man seemed to have stayed in the basement floors of the asylum for hours on end, judging from the projects he had carried out. He finished sewing multiple wedding dresses, some being erotic and revealing; a hole open in the chest area and around the hips. Others were vintage and almost innocent; flowy with sequins around the bottom, supported with crinoline to keep the dress poofy. He even paired it with a pair of lace gloves with its own custom-made veil. They were all crafted from bits of pieces of fabric he was able to gather from dead patients and doctors—a horrid combination of the dead.

The Groom was simply waiting for the perfect Bride.

Of course, he didn’t even want to start with what Hannibal did to those corpses.

He recalled Hannibal’s first ‘masterpiece’, a headless corpse with legs wide open on a table mimicking the nature of a birthing process, with the head just in front of a manmade hole in place of the penis. It was very clearly a man, from how the breasts were sewn onto the chest, a long haired wig placed lazily on the stump of the neck. It was an expression of desire and want, a baby from a makeshift woman’s womb.

They managed to find themselves in the ground floors, hearing multiple people conversing amongst themselves, with one wielding a communication device. Will was relieved at first, until one of the soldiers received a report from one of his men.

“Requesting immediate EVAC! I repeat— fuck! It’s here! We don’t know what the fuck this is but— AH!”

The report ended with a blood-curdling scream, and the audio cut off, the soldiers seemingly distraught on what to do next. “Pack it up. We’re going to get the survivors. Kill anything that fucking moves.”

Shit.

Will was the one who had initiated S.O.S., he didn’t think they would actually come. Better yet, he didn’t expect there was something else he hadn’t finished dealing with. He wasn’t sure if there was anything that could surprise him at this point, he had seen too much. At the same time, there would always be room for surprises, and he had learnt that the hard way through the entirety of his stay at this wretched asylum and its broken system.

Hannibal seemed thoroughly worried throughout their journey, his hand lightly squeezing Will’s side whenever he talked with that gentle tone lacing his voice, a foreign accent seemed significantly heavier whenever he expressed concern. Hannibal was from Lithuania after all, as he had read from his files. Upon feeling the carpeted floor, albeit muddy and coarse, he knew the exit was close.

True to his instinct, they had arrived at the lobby, and it was just as dilapidated as the rest of the building. Frederick Chilton, his boss who had tried to experiment on him and firing him, was laying there against the exit door frame, a hand clutching a wound in his side. He seemed to have been shot, or stabbed, but neither one of those bothered Will, not even the slightest. He had always known Frederick’s plan with the asylum was never of kind intentions, but simply for selfish purposes. He had tested out on these patients like they were lab rats, chemicals inducing cancer of multiple stages flowing through their veins, and somehow creating new diseases in the process. Will had seen the various ways the patients had grown deformity. Hannibal was one of the lucky few that didn’t seem to have any of those aside from his fucked head from electric therapy and punishments.

“Mr. Graham? How the fuck are you still alive?” He laughed in pain, and Hannibal turned to look at him as if he had just discovered something new. He probably did, considering he had always called Will by pet names, mylimasis specifically, and not his actual name; nor did he bother to ask. “Let’s… make a deal. You help me, I'll help you. What do you say?”

Will shot a glare as Frederick struggled to keep himself upright. He was still in the same suit he saw him in when he clocked in for work this morning, and now here he was, bloodied and weak, almost the same way Will had fantasized him to be. He felt Hannibal tremble beside him, fury filled his eyes and his breathing quicken, a predator staring down his prey. He didn’t want to let Hannibal go like a guard dog as much as he wanted Frederick to die. Judging from the comms of those soldiers, he doubted Frederick could live a second longer if he just left him. He leaned into Hannibal’s ear and nudged him with his nose, gently whispering, “It’s okay. Let’s go, please? I’m tired, and my car is just outside the gate.” 

It seemed to have worked instantly, as if his voice had its own magical elements that successfully mind controlled the Groom into ignoring his former boss as he writhed in pain. Frederick then watched in disbelief when the pair walked past him, yelling out, “Mr. Graham? I have your family’s information. I will hunt them down. Mark my words!”

Will gritted his teeth at the threats thrown towards his way but he ignored knowing full well he wouldn’t be living long enough to do anything about it. 

Just as they arrived at Will’s station wagon, Hannibal helped open the driver’s seat to help him sit down, then he rushed over to the co-driver’s seat to step inside. While Will was trying to start the car, he couldn’t help but be bothered by how pliant Hannibal was, sitting there obediently while he waited for the car to start moving, eyes full of adoration and love for the man he barely met. God knows what was in his vision when he looked at Will, all he knew was that something more managed to strip his eyes off of his Bride as the engine rumbled to life.

Will followed Hannibal’s stare.

He saw the dark, black smoke at first, wafting out through the entrance where they had both walked past Frederick. When he realized that it wasn’t caused by a fire, he picked up his camcorder laying on the dashboard and turned on the night vision to have a closer look. The smoke he saw seemed to surround a silhouette of a man, stumbling out the front door and down the steps. Then he turned his head… straight towards the car.

“Shit!”

Hannibal didn’t seem all that fazed, probably the most relaxed he had felt in his life without feeling the need to disfigure corpses in search for his Bride now that he found one. Will, on the other hand, was backing up as much as he could, looking back to try and drive his way out of the gates while the figure was approaching. He could feel his heart pounding in his ears as he felt the boot crash into a streetlamp. With all the experience he could muster from years of driving, he managed to skillfully reverse out of the gates and drove away into the forest, never looking back.

After hours spent on the road, they finally arrived at his home in Wolf Trap, his entire body finally surrendering itself to the exhaustion that was taking over. Will could only lay his forehead against the steering wheel, catching his breath and fighting the urge to fall asleep, with his eyelids betraying every sense in his body. He let out a long, drawled out groan, his body was sore, parts of his skin stung from the heat of the oven he had been shoved into by that psychotic cannibal… He didn’t even know where to start with his complaints, even if he was only doing it within his mind.

He wasn’t sure when Hannibal had stepped out of the car, but the door beside him opened and he felt himself carefully lifted and carried in the Groom’s arms. His head instinctively leaned into Hannibal’s chest while he was brought into the house, greeted by the familiar smell of home and dog fur. He heard the opening of doors and the soft thuds of Hannibal’s footsteps against the carpeted floor, assuming that he was trying to find the bedroom. 

Soon, he found  what he was looking for, and Will was carefully placed on the bed. He wanted to stay awake, he still felt unsafe around the Groom nonchalantly walking around him with access to pretty much everything that could kill him. Alas, the adrenaline had worn off, leaving him with nothing but a shell of his body, and his consciousness slipping away.

»»-------¤-------««

Much to his surprise, Will woke up that morning. 

His eyes fluttered at the stream of light flowing from the blinds of his bedroom, the morning sun stinging. He hissed at the pain all over his body, wanting to push himself up with his arms only to be stopped by a gentle palm against his chest, urging him to lay back onto the bed.

“You need the rest, my Love.” He heard a familiar voice speak, and a chair was pulled beside the bed with a smell of chicken that followed. Will managed to focus his eyes, blinking the blurriness away to finally see the chiseled features of Hannibal Lecter in the light. The right side of his face was still raw and bleeding with blisters, but it seemed to have healed slightly over the period of when he was asleep. His eyes were bright, inhuman still, but gentle with his actions while he stirred a bowl of chicken porridge in his hands. Will noticed how he had a scar stretched down his right eye, which was easy to miss due to the bleeding holes in his skin. 

Hannibal lightly blew over the surface as he scooped a spoonful, carefully bringing it to Will’s lips, feeding him with utmost patience.

Will squinted for a moment, squeezing them shut and opening them again. This wasn’t a dream, the maniacal Groom who had chased him down and tried killing him was in the house with him, feeding him chicken porridge that he didn’t even bother checking if it was poisoned. Hannibal’s smile was fond, and it was noticeable how he twitched from the blisters at the corner of his lips, and the dark circles around his eyes made him more intimidating in comparison to the photo he had submitted with his file. 

He still wore the same attire, mismatched vest from multiple kinds of fabric, black crooked bow around his neck, the white, now yellowing stained shirt with blood and dust from his stay at the asylum. He wore his black glovelettes to match with his bowtie, and the black leather boots with minimal scratches—the Groom had always been ready for his wedding. 

Will tried to sit up again, wanting to see Hannibal eye to eye but he was stopped, insisting that he should rest. “You too, Hannibal.” He managed to croak out, despite the dryness in his throat. Everytime he spoke or breathed, it felt like he was scraping the pharynx with a metal tool. Hannibal stared at him, as if he had said something stupid before shaking his head.

“What matters is you, Darling.”

“Yeah? Who taught you that?”

It seemed like Will had pressed a foot onto a landmine from how Hannibal paused and lifted his cold gaze towards him, and he audibly swallowed.

“I’m… just saying that you matter too… you know.”

Will meant what he said, that Hannibal , too, deserved the care. This probably had something to do with his father, judging from the negative reaction, a stare that felt like drilling holes into his skull. He seemed to consider that answer, his finger and thumb twiddling with the spoon handle. If he tried, he could probably bend it.

“You would like to care for me, my Love?”

His voice sounded almost innocent, and the cold gaze had been replaced with the warmth of summer and a sweet smile that followed. Will observed quietly, his lips curling into a smile on his own. Touch-starved, neglected, yearning for a love that only he knew how to achieve, desperation, domesticity, a responsibility that he was forced to learn without realizing that he was also a person, an individual, that required all things he was willing to give.

Broken.

“Of course. Here, let me start with your face. Grab that medkit over there.” He pointed towards the top of his dresser and Hannibal obliged, setting the bowl down on the nightstand to do as told. Will took the chance to sit up, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed and as Hannibal returned, there was a sulking expression evident in his features. Will only laughed. 

There was probably something else going on that had caused all the blisters on Hannibal’s right side of his face, at the same time they looked relatively normal. There was no pus, and while they were deep and bleeding, there didn’t seem to be an infection. The only thing that came to mind was mild haemophilia, but then again, Will was never a doctor.

Tossing the bloody cotton swabs and tissues into a plastic bag, he leaned back to look at Hannibal’s face as a whole, meeting eyes that had nothing but love in his crimson moons. He didn’t even realize when Hannibal had his hands settled on his waist, inching closer until their lips met in a chaste and shy kiss, eyes fluttering close.

It almost felt like they were young again, hiding at the back of the school, sneaking a kiss while their teacher was looking for them. Innocent, excited, thrilling.

Hannibal pulled away, a gentle blush decorating his cheekbones and Will laughed, clearing his throat to hide the awkwardness in his voice. “Feeling any better, Hannibal?” He asked and the Groom nodded his head. Without any other words exchanged, he returned to feeding Will the chicken porridge, to which Will insisted he ate some of it too.

As night fell, Hannibal had brought Will to the bathroom. Steam emitted from the bathtub filled with warm water that rose to the ceiling. Hannibal helped him out of his clothes, and he stripped himself shortly after. Will took the chance to marvel at Hannibal’s naked body all while he relaxed with the liquid enveloping his frame.

Just as he thought, the Groom’s torso was almost triangular shaped, with toned muscle structure and well built curves that would’ve been obvious if it wasn’t for the mismatched vest he wore over his stained dress shirt. Speaking of his clothing, Will would burn them in the pit after deciding to get Hannibal some new garments. 

Soon, the Groom joined him in the bathtub, slipping behind him with the legs on each side of his body. The bath had a familiar smell… ah yes. It was the essential oil he had gifted Molly before they had a divorce. It smelled of both lavender and roses, which he cheesily had explained to his wife that it reminded him of her everytime she finished showering. Great job, Will.

His thoughts were disturbed by Hannibal’s hands feeling his stomach and chest, humming a certain tune under his breath. He knew this song, the Groom had sung this when he was looking for Will in their chase. I want a girl, just like the girl that married dear old Dad. His voice was sweet and alluring, if it wasn’t for the knife he was gripping back then, he would’ve let him know.

“This is nice.” Will sighed, seeing the mirror fogging up from the heat. Hannibal ran his hands down Will’s thighs and he shivered lightly, earning a pleased coo against his ear. 

“Indeed. Your body is perfectly crafted, my Dear. Pure and beautiful.”

Hannibal has an obsession with the lack of hair on one’s body, saying that it was ugly and that tainted the physical appearance. Will wasn’t sure how he would deal with the Groom living with him, considering his ways, ideals and thoughts were not exactly normal, but part of him found that charming. There was something about having a monster in his hand that listened to every order, one that would bark for him if he so asked, one that loved him unconditionally. 

Will did consider the possibility that Hannibal could decide he was a cheater and kill him, but until then, he chose to enjoy the current moment.

“May I shave you?” Hannibal asked suddenly, his hand now resting under Will’s right pec, the thumb lightly bumping his nipple, causing him to jolt at the sudden friction. 

The image of the Groom’s victim flashed in his mind, how he was sliced from the middle of his chest down to his groin so smoothly with a sharp blade, the agonizing scream that followed. Will was putting himself willingly in the arms of ‘The Thing from Below’, and he could kill him whenever he pleased. So loving now, but once Will stopped breathing, he would lose his purpose as his Bride , and Hannibal would move on to find another.

“Sure… if you promise to be careful.” Will teased, and the Groom nibbled on his ear in response.

He stayed in the arms of a killer, and part of him was oddly comforted by that.

»»-------¤-------««

The first week wasn’t easy. Recovery didn’t come quick for Will, leaving him hobbling around the house and trying not to fall face first on his face due to his injured foot. Hannibal offered to carry him around and, although rejected a couple of times, Will gave in for the others, taking him wherever he needed to go. In bed while he enjoyed the warm meals Hannibal made for him, he would spend the time looking out his window, watching as Hannibal in and out of the house doing the chores. 

Hannibal walked across the porch one day with arms full of firewood, piling them all at the front to prepare for winter. He’d like to believe that was Hannibal’s lifestyle before everything happened, and he found comfort in that.

Hannibal’s face soon healed, and Will concluded it was an allergy reaction to latex. He had worn latex gloves to do the dishes one night and his hands were full of rashes the day after. Will treated them with care, and Hannibal gushed  about how much he loved Will partly in English, mostly in Lithuanian. Albeit not understanding 80% of what Hannibal said, Will found it incredibly flattering nonetheless. There was something special about someone expressing affection in their native language; it was as if English wasn’t enough to convey the intense feeling he had in his head for Will. 

They also found a large box of Will’s old belongings from his old home, including his father’s larger clothes, so Hannibal was delighted to be wearing vests, dress shirts and slacks since they both shared the same fashion style.

At night, Hannibal desired for sex, but it was in a way to make a child, which Will biologically wasn’t able to provide on his end. After what had happened in that basement, Will was still wary of showing Hannibal any of his private parts, not wanting to inspire the Groom to cut his dick off like he initially planned. He was upset, thinking that Will didn’t want to consummate their marriage, but Will managed to calm him, or push him into thinking about something else.

The second week came, and Will had already healed his injuries, at least most of it. He was able to move without Hannibal’s assistance, but that didn’t stop his Groom from worrying. He would ask if Will needed anything, if he could do anything for him, even down to mundane things like doing his hair, or the laundry. Will allowed it sometimes, since it helped Hannibal be at ease of his well being. 

Will immediately started job hunting, wanting to support the both of them. He wasn’t sure if Hannibal was stable enough to work so he considered himself as the breadwinner. The discussion didn’t go well for them though.

“I will go to work, mylimasis. All you have to do is stay at home, as you deserve.”

Hannibal still saw him as a woman, with traditional housewife roles.

“No, you—” Will stopped himself and took a deep breath. He needed to choose his words carefully. Hannibal may be his… What was he anyway? Anywho, he would want to avoid stumbling as much as possible. Who knows just how much patience the Groom has, or none at all? “... You are recovering. Your injuries are worse than mine. Let me, and once you’ve recovered, you can go.” He assumed this was an empty promise, not knowing when Hannibal would be stable enough to work without the risk of killing anyone he disliked out of jealousy or obsessive protectiveness.

Hannibal didn’t like it, but he allowed it.

Will found a job as an assistant florist. An old lady had hired him in need of help to man the shop, so it was just him and her. He had no issues with that, he had always liked gardening anyway, it was right up his alley. Though he enjoyed fishing more, working at the fish market didn’t seem very appealing.

He would arrive at the shop at 9 AM, and return at 5 PM daily, and every time he set foot into his home, he would be greeted by Hannibal taking his hand and pressing a kiss against his knuckles. Will concluded that he could definitely get used to this, and as much as he didn’t want to admit, he enjoyed it too.

The number of dresses and suits had grown in Hannibal’s workshop. He had too much free time to spend while Will was at work. He would ask Will to try them on and he would entertain him, putting on vintage dresses, wedding gowns, and skimpy skirts to which Hannibal enjoyed watching his ass cheeks poking from under the folds.

One night after work, he was welcomed by the smell of steak, and Hannibal standing by the dinner table, candles lit and plates with cutlery arranged on each end. He wordlessly pulled a chair for Will to sit and went over to play music on the vinyl player. “I Want a Girl” by Al Jolson began playing, dim in the background, just enough to accompany the romantic atmosphere Hannibal had set up for them.

“What’s this about, Han?” Will smiled, as Hannibal started bringing over plates with metal dome lids covering their meals. 

“I would like to express my gratitude, my Love. For being my other half.” 

Will felt his heart strings tugged at the words expressed, lifting the lid up to reveal a half-rare steak, drizzled with thick mushroom sauce, a big clump of mashed potatoes and garlic at the side. It smelled divine, and his stomach had already started rumbling impatiently while Hannibal took his seat. “I will reveal my latest creation after dinner. Please, enjoy.”

“Thank you, Han.”

Words exchanged regarding how they had spent their own days; Hannibal told him about the curtains he had made for the living room, while Will had to deal with the restock of cacti and succulents, and how he nearly killed one under his ass. There was laughter, soft and silent, like they were whispering sweet nothings. 

After their meal, Hannibal guided Will to his workshop, and in the middle of the room was one of his mannequins clad in a long vintage dress, which on its own wasn’t very surprising, but this one was different. It was long and simple, with tiny pink flowers decorated over pale yellow fabric, puffy short sleeves with a square neckline. It was made out of cotton, soft to the touch and lengthed down just barely over his knees, and there was a cinch on the waist to accentuate an hourglass figure.

Hannibal took the dress off of the mannequin and helped Will put it on as usual, securing the dress with a zip up his back.

Will took a moment in the tall mirror, his stubble was definitely not the best to fit with the dress, and even though he used to find it weird, he didn’t mind it as much now. Was he discovering something about himself he didn’t know about, or was this coping with the many dresses he will have to wear for Hannibal? He pondered by himself, twisting his body with his fingers pinching the bottom of the skirt, twirling around to watch it open and flow.

There was something oddly peaceful and serene with this domestic life they’ve adopted. Will was in Hannibal’s workshop, dressed by his handiwork, and as the Groom reappeared behind him, Will saw his reflection, eyes looking into his through the mirror. He had brought a necklace, wordlessly securing it behind his neck as the pendant rested on his collarbone, the shape of an anatomical heart. 

Will felt a warm kiss pressed against his almost exposed shoulder, lightly trailing them all the way to his neck before Hannibal playfully bit on the skin.

“Beautiful. Truly a divine creature.”

Everything else was a blur. Will had turned to look at Hannibal, and he remembered the burning gaze of desire into his skin as he looked at Will in that dress he carefully sewn. Hands began to wander on bodies, lips sucking and bruising every inch of skin they could reach. Sewing equipment crashed to the floor as Hannibal pushed them off the table, making way for his Bride to lay on. 

Pleasure took over, the fear Will once had dissipated with lust wafted between them for weeks now. Each time he escaped the topic of their marriage consummation, he thought he was getting better, but the hunger only grew stronger, and there was nothing that could stop them from having each other then.

Morning arrived with a sore body and obnoxiously loud birds chirping outside his window. Will’s face was in the pillow, his head tilted to a side while he laid on his stomach. It took a couple of rapid blinking and processing for him to realize what happened, and he was embarrassed to admit how fast his hand flew straight to his crotch. There it was flaccid, hanging loosely and very well spent after last night. Hannibal didn’t seem to act on what he thought he would while he was unconscious, Will was relieved but he couldn’t help but wonder why.

Who knew what was on the Groom’s mind? He was a complex person to understand, with a mind storming with thoughts, ocean waves crashing and destroying everything in its path. A moral compass pointing to all directions with motive blurred behind a fog. There was so much going on yet nothing at all. Clearly, Hannibal was troubled, and he didn’t have anything to help that.

Will hissed as he tried to sit up before his fingers lightly brushed against Hannibal’s arm. He had been sleeping beside him, snoozing quietly. The marks from his face were evident but they were just scars now, nothing else but a memory. He stirred in his sleep for a bit, but showed no signs of waking up, and Will carefully got out of bed for some coffee. He slipped into some shorts on the way out, picking one up that had been strewn on the floor. He wished he could recall every detail, as he remembered it to be so damn good. 

Hannibal was gentle, yet relentless, pounding and not faltering until Will screamed enough to satisfy him.

The kitchen was cool in the morning, and he never liked the idea of indoor sandals but at this very moment, he wished he had them. The tiles were freezing his sole. He popped two slices of bread into the toaster, pushing the press handle down and hearing the dull ticks in the atmosphere. 

The morning sun, as they described it, truly was rejuvenating. He could almost understand why plants bent towards the sun, feeling himself drawn to the large star in the sky himself. He picked a mug out of the cabinets with the bag of coffee he bought for his Groom the other day, but before he could do anything, Hannibal’s hands found their way to his waist and he nearly jumped onto the kitchen counter.

“Christ, Han!”

“My apologies, Darling. I didn’t mean to frighten you. I noticed you were gone and went to look.”

Hannibal’s voice was heavy with sleepiness, and Will let out a small sigh, cupping the cheeks with his thumb caressing his skin. He could feel Hannibal leaning into the touch, closing in the distance between them.

“I thought of something, Han.” Will said.

“Hm?”

“What do you think about your own business?”

»»-------¤-------««

Will found a shop that was up for rent just across the street from his flower shop, and Hannibal was thoroughly pleased. He had already planned where all of his equipment would go, how the mannequins would be displayed, and Will helped with designing business cards, promotional flyers and advertisements. Within weeks, Hannibal had gained a number of customers, and he noticed that a few were returning as well.

It was stable, and he didn’t see Hannibal overreacting around his female customers, or overly flirty with the males.

For now he observed that Hannibal had been busy in his workshop until late at night so he would remind him to rest from time to time, but Will was just happy that the Groom managed to put his energy into something that was healthy.

On an unfortunate visit on Will’s end, he brought croissants and a warm chocolate dip for Hannibal for lunch. Hannibal was delighted to see him, pressing a light kiss against his cheek before guiding Will over to a small iron wrought chair in the corner of the shop that was meant to be for discussions with customers regarding length, design, type and such. While they were eating however, an unexpected customer came through the glass door. Hannibal went to tend to him quickly, setting down notes and having a brief discussion. He was a returning client, so they seemed to know each other.

“Ah, who is this lovely thing?”

The man commented on Will as he stepped up to the counter. He seemed to be merely curious, as if he wanted to see how Hannibal was doing things in his newfound business. Hannibal didn’t have an obvious expression, simply sharing a small smile towards Will. “His name is Will,” he introduced, “My wife.”

“What an honour to meet you.” The man offered a hand, and Will gingerly took it for a firm shake.

“Will Graham. Nice to meet you…” Will trailed off, as he didn’t have any information on the other’s name.

“Mason Verger.”

“Mason, yes. I was only visiting… my h-husband here.” That did not go as smoothly as he thought, clearing his throat from how awkwardly that came out. Mason, on the other hand, shot a wink towards his way and Will felt his heart drop, glancing towards Hannibal.

He stood there with an  unreadable expression, nodding his head when Will looked towards him, almost as if he was providing assurances.

Mason placed his order for a suit and he left his business card for Will to contact if he ever needed. He owned a company for farm animals, mainly pigs and it also offered butchering services. He had recalled seeing the man in front of his newly built factory, which was followed by an introduction of his pig pen. The pigs were well-fed and active, but part of Will just knew that those pigs weren’t normal. He thought Hannibal would appreciate it until he opened a hand expectantly and Will placed the card into his palm before the fingers closed around it. There were nothing but gentle gestures, soft smiles and curt nods. Will accepted the kiss against the side of his forehead before Hannibal walked off to start his new commission.

Will had left shortly after that, since he was still working and only came to visit on a lazy day. He saw a customer walk through the door of his shop and had to go.

He returned home the same hour as he always did everyday. Hannibal wasn’t there yet so Will fixed them dinner for the night. He opted for something simple; tomato soup with garlic bread, with a side of bacon-garlic asparagus. So far, there hadn’t been any complaints about his cooking, so he just decided to do whatever he felt like making. As soon as he got the table ready, he heard the door creak, and his head lifted to look towards the entrance. “Welcome home, Han—”

There his monster stood, covered in blood, a finely tailored dress shirt soaked in crimson. There was no remorse evident in his facial expressions, with his hand gripping  around a poor man’s ankle, dragging the body behind him. He stood there on the welcome mat, his eyes casted down to the floorboards of their home, unsure of what he was supposed to do.

“Han…?”

“I do not wish to stain the floor of our home.”

Ah, so that’s what he was thinking about.

Will let out a small sigh, stepping over to stand in front of Hannibal, his hands rested on the shoulders before he leaned in for a kiss.

Hannibal was surprised but he melted into it, and Will tasted the iron in his mouth. Was he hurt? Did he get into a fight with his victim before he put them down? Upon closer inspection, he found that the corpse belonged to Mason Verger. He had already expected it to not turn out well for him, yet he still found it in him to be surprised anyway.

“What do I do with you, Hanni?” Will tilted his head to the side, his hands resting on his hips like a scolding mother. Hannibal casted his eyes to the floor, his lips pursed into a small snarl.

“No one is allowed to touch you, to touch what’s mine.”

Will was embarrassed to feel heat pooling in his stomach at his voice.

He cleared his throat, opening the door wider so he could slip himself out. 

“Alright, come. Let’s deal with that, yeah?” Will ushered, and Hannibal quietly stepped over the corpse and dragged it out to the front porch, following Will as he was guided into the forest. Will stopped by the toolshed to grab a shovel and when they were far enough from their house, he was going to dig a hole until Hannibal stopped him, insisting that he do it instead.

Ah yes, gentlemanly, even in this situation.

So he stood there with crossed arms, tucking his hands under them. It hadn’t snowed yet but the air was definitely cooler than it usually was at night. Hannibal’s muscles flexed under that shirt that didn’t do his body justice, and Will marveled at how the buttons hadn’t popped out yet. Once the hole was deep enough, Hannibal pushed the body in and only then did Will realize that a pair of breasts had been sewn on his naked body, and a large, gaping hole sawed into him between his legs.

Old habits die hard.

He wondered who those tits belong to.

“Let’s get you cleaned up.” Will whispered, allowing Hannibal to have his moment of peace, calming the rush of adrenaline running through his veins. With an offered hand, the Groom took it and followed him back to his house. By then the soup would’ve gone cold with the asparagus, so he went to reheat everything while Hannibal prepared the bath. Will found himself willingly joining him in his bath, settling himself between his legs with Hannibal’s arms around his waist. Lips against Will’s neck, teeth nibbling and kissing as he wished.

“Don’t be careless, Han.” He whispered, and Hannibal growled, but not in a way that was threatening to him. He supposed Mason really ticked him off. Their bath was quiet, but Will made sure to wash Hannibal’s hair and scrub the skin. For once, Hannibal didn’t fight back and allowed himself to be pampered.

Hannibal was quiet for the rest of the night and the day after, and Will wasn’t sure why. He went to work as usual, came back around the same time and Hannibal was already  home, sitting in his workshop and working on a new dress. He knocked on the open door, not wanting to startle the other while he was concentrating. “Hey, Han. Can I come in?”

“Of course, my Love.”

There was still the adoration and love in his voice, and it eased him a little bit.

Will stood beside his Groom, a hand rubbed across his back and rested on his shoulder, feeling the body raise and fall with his breathing. “Always working. Don’t you ever get tired?” He asked and he felt Hannibal’s smirk, leaning into his body, his needle and fabric finally set down. Will wrapped his arms around his neck, pulling him close.

“Are you still mad at me?”

“Why would I?”

“I was careless, and I didn’t realize how it had made you upset.”

Oh, this monster of his. Will stifled a laughter, pressing a kiss in his dirty blond hair. 

“I was never angry at you, Han.” Will assured and he heard a sigh escaping Hannibal’s lips, the tension immediately released from his shoulders.

“I am relieved to know that.” 

They went to bed together, and Hannibal fell asleep much quicker than Will did. He was probably stressed the whole day and the thought was flattering. Will, on the other hand, couldn’t rest. His hands were on his belly, fingers intertwined with each other and looking up towards the ceiling.

What was Hannibal to him?

To Hannibal, he was the wife, his ‘other half’. He was in love with Will.

Will didn’t know what he was feeling for Hannibal.

Whatever happened while they were living together felt natural—almost too natural. Was he replacing Hannibal with Molly? Was this a rebound? It didn’t feel that way. The relationship he had with Molly was never as real as what he had with Hannibal, yet he didn’t know what Hannibal was to him. Were they in love? Never have they expressed affection so directly with each other before. There were pet names, but that was as far as they went. There was never an official declaration.

Neither of them had said ‘I love you’.

He laid there, pondering, the darkness and silence eventually swallowing him whole and without knowing, he started drowning.

»»-------¤-------««

Will didn’t like how Mrs. Henderson, his boss, had noticed him staring.

It had been eating him up. He watched Hannibal converse with his customers through the display window of his shop, the way he smiled and greeted them with a light bow and a hand over his heart. His slick back hair and fangs just slightly protrude from underneath his top lip. If there weren’t any customers, he would work with his notes and start with work, seated by his sewing machine. Will couldn’t see it from this distance but he could already imagine the way his back muscles flex, his sleeves rolled up to the elbows and brows furrowed in concentration.

He never thought about this properly, but fuck, Hannibal was beautiful.

What were they? Did Will love Hannibal?

He groaned quietly, before he was forced to deal with a customer that same evening.

After he closed down the shop and locked the front door, Hannibal seemed to have been ready. The Groom caught his eye and waved, to which he responded with a small smile. “Ready to head home?” Will asked, receiving a nod from Hannibal in response, the two of them linking their arms together as they walked. He would lightly squeeze his Groom’s arm, leaning his head against the shoulder when he started talking. Hannibal was talkative again, and he had missed it. He was describing a reaction of a customer who was delighted by the dress he made, how she told him that she would promote his shop to her friends. Will listened, nodding and acknowledging him.

“What a shame. To think that I have created a fine suit for a rude man.” Hannibal tsked.

“Rude— who was it, Han?”

“Mason Verger.”

Oh wow, he still completed the suit even after he killed him. Perhaps it was commitment and that he didn’t want to leave things undone. “You can always sell it?”

“I have been considering it.”

Upon arriving at their home, Hannibal went to the kitchen to start with dinner, while Will did the laundry before going down to help him as well. There was something intimate about cooking together, even if there was no direct affection shared. Hannibal offering a knife, or slicing the onion for him, taking over the stove as he didn’t want Will’s hand to burn from sprinkles of hot oil. He supposed he has never felt what it was like to be the one cared for, when he had always been caring for others.

Since when did Will feel so smitten around Hannibal? This wasn’t a rare occurrence, hell it had been his new daily. Hannibal constantly showered him with love and affection, never embarrassed with physical contact, and after their first time having sex, Hannibal had been more romantic.

He didn’t notice he was staring into an empty space until Hannibal touched his shoulder, and he lightly jolted at the sudden pressure.

“Are you alright, my Love?” Hannibal asked, worry laced his foreign accent.

“Yeah, yeah. Just… thinking.” 

Hannibal moved around the counter and sat beside him, his eyes glancing towards the oven briefly. He was baking something, Will couldn’t recall what it was since he had been in his head. 

“Share your thoughts with me, Dear.”

How was he supposed to say that he didn’t know how he felt about Hannibal? That this might just be a rebound and that he had been replacing Molly with him this entire time? That didn’t sound close to the truth, but he didn’t have any answer to it himself. Will audibly groaned, leaning his head onto Hannibal’s shoulder.

“Nothing, Han.” He sighed, and he felt the kiss against his forehead.

“If I may assist, please let me know.”

How sweet and caring, as his Groom always was.

»»-------¤-------««

Will made stuffed eggplant for the both of them, and they spent lunch together in Hannibal’s shop. 

The front doorbell rang and a young lady stepped in, draped in a long, comfortable overcoat, a beanie on her head and her brown hair over her shoulders. She looked around, taking off her gloves while Hannibal stood up to tend to her. Will, naturally, followed suit. He didn’t want to look awkward or rude by sitting there and continued eating like no one was there.

“How may I help you?” Hannibal asked, standing behind the counter with a friendly smile etched to his lips.

“I’m here to pick up an order for Mason Verger.” She replied with a cheery expression. Hannibal didn’t seem fazed and nodded curtly, then he left to the storage room to find the suit. It shouldn’t take long, since he had planned to sell it anyway.

“Hello, I am Will Graham, Hannibal’s wife.” He introduced himself when they had locked eyes. He was standing there awkwardly anyways.

The lady didn’t mind it though. She was so happy, it was almost contagious. “Margot. Mason was my brother.”

‘Was’? Did she know?

Will froze for a moment, thankfully she didn’t notice as she turned to look towards the open door where Hannibal had walked through to retrieve the suit.

“I’m so happy he’s gone. I got the news that he was killed, and I took over the company. We didn’t bother reporting,” she continued, her hands fiddling with the fabric of her sleeves. “Good. I am finally free. Free from his abuse. I plan to wear that suit for myself. What do you think? Would I look good?”

Will’s lips slowly curled into a relieved smile, the curves on the corner deepened slightly. He had been thinking about the blood in his hands, that Mason could’ve just been innocent, but hearing from this lady, the guilt simply washed away.

“You’ll look wonderful, Margot.” He replied, with utmost sincerity. Margot beamed at the answer before Hannibal reappeared with the suit, and he, too, was smiling just as much.

“I’m afraid that won’t do. We must alter the suit so it would fit your frame perfectly. Shall we?” Hannibal chimed in, causing a giggle from Margot, following the Groom to his workspace. He noticed Margot had a little bump underneath her sweater, and he suspected that she could be pregnant.

Then he thought about Hannibal wanting a child, and how he couldn’t biologically provide that for him.

He began to drown again.

»»-------¤-------««

Would Hannibal leave him? Or kill him? Both options sounded equally as bad at this point.

He wasn’t sure when he started caring, but he didn’t like it. The voices started to grow louder in his head whispering that he was useless and that Hannibal would walk away to find someone that could bear his child. He didn’t appear in the kitchen to help Hannibal as usual that night, unsure if he could even look at the Groom without breaking down into tears he may not be able to control. 

He felt pathetic, his face now buried in his hands, trying to take deep breaths and utterly failing as he started choking instead.

Why? He wasn’t even in love with Hannibal—hell, what did love feel like anyway? He had forgotten it ever since his student years, and every person he ever dated was left with a numb heart. Molly was no different. The only true love he felt was his dogs and Molly took them with her.

Control yourself, Will. Take control. He took a deep breath, feeling sweat trickling down his neck and the overpowering warmth of the room, even though it was supposed to be cold due to winter coming soon. He could already smell the food from the kitchen, a mixture of beef and grilled vegetables, which indicated that dinner might be ready soon. He tried to shift his attention to something else, but he always came back to Margot’s belly bump and the baby she was expecting. Would Hannibal want a girl or a boy? Would it be the same if they find a surrogate, or if they adopt? It was hard to guess, with the ideals Hannibal had. 

His fingers dug into his scalp, trying his best to gain control of his breathing again, but his heartbeats grew stronger in his ears, until that was the only thing he could hear while the world deafened around him.

The sea then started to calm, when Hannibal’s fingers wrapped around his wrists.

Will raised his head, eyes widened and red, tears freely streaming down his cheeks before he could stop them. Hannibal was equally as surprised, leaning forward with a hand cupping Will’s cheek. “Beloved… what happened?” He whispered, torn, concerned. Will did the only thing he could at that moment, his body weakening and aching for Hannibal’s touch, leaning into the embrace and feeling strong arms held him close.

He was carried to the bedroom, and they made love for the second time after months into their relationship.

After, Hannibal took care of Will properly, washing his skin, offering gentle kisses and praises, then he went down to the kitchen to plate their dinner. He even spoon fed him—beef lasagna with a side of caesar salad. He made sure that Will didn’t stain the sheets, and wiped residue from the corner of his lips and chin.

“I can’t get pregnant.” Will suddenly muttered.

“Will—”

“I can’t get pregnant, Han! Doesn’t that defeat it all? You want a family, I can’t fucking give you that!” The tears returned and dripped to his bedsheets, his fingers curled around the edges. 

This might be the end, and Will was trying his best to fully prepare for every outcome possible, but he knew that it would hurt as shit regardless. Why would it hurt? It shouldn’t, in fact, he should be happy, if Hannibal leaves then he would be free. However, there was nothing to be happy about. Will felt sorrow, and the thought of returning to this house alone felt like torture.

To be reminded of his fucked up job, of his family of make-believe, of the trauma he was forced to endure.

“You should… find a woman that can get you a child. Or anyone with a uterus—I don’t, and I can’t give you a child.”

Hannibal stared, his hand held a spoonful of lasagna with eyes fixated on Will’s stormy blues, settling the bowl down onto the nightstand.

“ You are family, Will. My wife, my other half. A child comes after, but you will always be first.”

“B—but I can’t…” Will trailed off, drawing in a shaky breath, “I can’t get pregnant.”

“Unfortunate, but what’s to be done about that?” Hannibal’s chuckle made Will’s heart skip a beat, and that smile was so capable of washing his worries away. 

“We can adopt, my Love.” He continued, his thumb brushing against Will’s knuckles. When  did he take his hands anyway? He didn’t even realize. He was more weirded out at the fact that Hannibal was thinking normally, and not fixated on the idea of drilling a hole into someone in place of a uterus. He was dumbfounded for a moment, his lips pressed into a thin line.

“I… would love that.”

Will returned the gaze Hannibal had on him, and they shared a deep kiss.

Was this love? He sure hoped so.

After that, they had a little discussion and decided that they weren’t ready for a child just yet. Will had to consider his mental capacity, while Hannibal enjoyed their time as couples for now, and intended to continue this way for a few more months. 

So, their lives went on unbothered, Hannibal’s business thrived after he was commissioned a fancy dress from a rising celebrity, and he gained his own name. Eventually, Will stopped working at the flora shop and committed to staying at home, since that was Hannibal’s wish for him, as he deserved. It didn’t stop Will from being worried though, not wanting his husband to return with another dead body.Mason should be the first and the last.

First was an understatement, but he just refused to acknowledge the bodies at the asylum.

»»-------¤-------««

Hannibal was  incredibly good at what he did, socially in control and forming connections as he pleased. He wasn’t so skittish around women like before, and as long as Will wasn’t there with him to be potentially flirted with by other men, he believed they were safe too.

He woke up to see Hannibal off, cleaned the home, tended to the garden, cooked lunch for himself, and dinner to be eaten together. Then they would bathe, Hannibal telling his daily stories and experiences, accompanied by how much he had missed Will for the whole eight hours he was at work. “How are you enjoying your time at home, my Love?” Hannibal would ask, nuzzling his nose into Will’s neck.

“It was boring.”

“I see… Is there a way I can help with that?”

“Well, we don’t have a child yet. I was thinking I could maybe come with you? You said you missed me, as do I with you… It would be a win-win situation.”

Hannibal raised a brow and Will just gave him his signature puppy eyed stare, causing his husband to weaken almost immediately.

“Oh, Will.” Hannibal sighed and Will snickered in triumph.

Will adopted the role of Hannibal’s assistant quickly. He was even convinced to put on Hannibal’s dresses to promote them (Will knew the actual reason behind it, but as usual, he’ll entertain his husband). Hannibal adorned Will with pearl necklaces and bracelets, clicky platform shoes and sparkly earrings—he lit up the shop every time a customer entered to buy or commission a custom outfit. He would hear them mentioning Will, how Hannibal was lucky. 

The Groom would be glowing with pride at the end of the day.

It went on for some months, the two spending their lives together. Finally, they were ready, and they visited an adoption center with children ranging from toddlers to young teens. They sat at the courtyard, and Hannibal stood close to his wife as they observed the kids playing.

“They’re all so cute.”

“Indeed. It would be preferable if they share a trait or two of our physical appearance.”

Will nodded, silently agreeing.

They had also discussed not adopting someone too young or too old, someone in their early teens should work. 

Will immediately had his eyes laid upon a small girl with long, straight dark hair draped over her shoulders, with pale skin, eyes as bright as Will’s and a button nose. She seemed to cast herself aside from the others. As if they were thinking the same thing, Will and Hannibal shared a knowing look before they told a teacher they’d like to talk to her.

“My name is Abigail. You can call me Abby.”

“Hello, Abby. Do you not like your friends?” Will asked, offering a friendly smile.

“Well, sort of. It’s the other way around, mostly.”

His brows furrowed. “You mean, they don’t like you?”

She nodded nonchalantly, as if it was a common thing.

Will didn’t know what had drawn him to the girl. Was it her eyes? Her hair? How he had seen himself in her as she stood at the side, nonparticipating and observing. He wasn’t one that could get along with other people easily, always overstepping boundaries without intending to, the weird kid no one would dare talk to. 

She was beautiful, voice soft and long eyelashes, gingerly taking his hand as they talked, almost as if she was silently pleading him to be taken in. Will couldn’t help it, and Hannibal seemed to share the same sentiment. They agreed to fill the form, and his husband preened at her new name: Abigail Lecter.

The caretaker had warned them of the issues, how she had been returned to the orphanage for the third time this month, and that her previous foster parents had expressed discomfort. What kind of discomfort could a young girl cause? Will listened anyway, so he could prepare himself for what was to come, taking her home with her pink luggage behind her. She was going to turn 15 on the 4th of April, and Hannibal had been looking up schools to register her in. He also planned to take her measurements for her own custom-made school clothes, showing as much excitement as Will had for their new daughter.

“Welcome home, Abby.” Will smiled, with a pat on her shoulder as she looked around.

She seemed to be the kind to not smile very often. Given how she had been outcasted by her peers, he understood. He observed as she touched the chairs, the wallpapers, quietly assessing her surroundings. “It’s beautiful… What do I call you?” She asked, turning towards Will.

Will opened his mouth to answer before he thought for a moment, and finally said, “Mommy. Hannibal is your daddy.”

He is the wife after all.

Abigail beamed. “I’ve always wanted a mommy.”

»»-------¤-------««

Will knew that their family life had been everything Hannibal ever wanted.

He had seen how he spent time making dresses and clothes for their daughter, and made food that always ended up as her favorite. He would take her out for shopping, all while he held hands with his wife tightly, a silent gratitude for gifting Abigail into the world, as if he was the one who gave birth to her. She had been registered into the nearest school, and she wore a cute outfit for her first day, a dark blue dress with white Peter Pan collar, paired with knee high socks and black platform shoes. 

She twirled in front of the mirror in her room, a bright smile etched on her face. 

“Mommy, can we have my room repainted? I don’t like pink very much.”

“You can blame your father for that. I told him to keep it cream until you arrive.”

Abigail giggled, turning around to hug him, her face buried in his chest. Will felt so warm, his nose in her hair, smelling the lavender shampoo she used for her morning shower. “What color do you want?” He asked.

“Dark green. Like moss!” She chirped.

“Alright, what else, Abby?”

“Hm… Can I have succulents too?”

Oh, Will was absolutely melting at his daughter.

After Abigail was sent to her school, Will and Hannibal went back to their shop. He was in his usual attire again, Hannibal’s latest creation. It was a lolita style outfit with checkered patterns for the skirt, dark brown corset with blood red roses scattered in the front and the back, and a big bow for the collar. He was given a small cape for his shoulders that covered half of his back and his upper arms, paired with leather gloves and a trilby hat. 

Hannibal seemed to have planned their matching, because he also wore a full set of vest, dress shirt and slacks, leather glovelettes, shoes and a fedora. They were both brown-themed.

“How cheesy, Han.” Will sighed, shaking his head with a fond smile while Hannibal fixed his bowtie in the mirror.

“Oh, Darling. Don’t we look beautiful?” Hannibal purred, turning to place his hands on Will’s waist, lightly pecking the tip of his nose. He stared into his eyes, and kissed the same spot one more time. “Splendid. I’ll begin our day now.”

The shop opened, and they got themselves busy. Customer after customer came in to either commission an outfit, pick up their orders , or survey the readymade clothes to be bought. When Hannibal didn’t have anything to do, he would make more dresses and suits. He thought of giving them all to Will, but Will insisted he had too much as it is, so they were put up for sale, with an option for adjustments in case the clothes didn’t fit their size with an additional charge.

They were all swooning over their matching outfits, one even said that they never thought a man would look so beautiful in a vintage dress. If it wasn’t for Hannibal shaving his legs and beard whenever he could, they would probably say otherwise. The Groom was allergic to body hair, exaggeratingly speaking. 

Their shop closed down faster than usual, and Will took the chance to cross the road and get Abigail some succulents. Since his daughter liked moss, he made sure to get something of similar color, even retrieving fake vines to decorate her bookcases, table and bed frame. Hannibal went to grab moss paint for her room, and they both met up in their Bentley after. “She didn’t like the pink?”

“No. What did I tell you, Han?”

“Hm. Women often adore pink, the color always accentuating their gorgeous features.”

Will laughed, leaning over and kissed his cheek.

“Not all of them, Han. Come on, let’s pick her up.”

But their good mood went terribly dark after seeing their daughter’s condition, limping towards the front gate.

She had a bruise on her head and could barely stand straight. Hannibal stayed in the car as there weren’t any parking spots available and Will was glad that was the case. He rushed over to his daughter, holding her in his arms when she started sobbing, his fingers carding her raven hair. “I told Mrs. Klutz, but they told her I fell and sprained my ankle…” She cried, her shoulders jolting.

“They? Who’s ‘they’, Abby?”

“Jackson and James Clinton.”

Will held himself back from yelling, his own heart pounding against his chest in fury. This was her first day of school and it was supposed to be a great experience. If Hannibal saw this he wouldn’t let it slide, but unfortunate for them, Will didn’t intend neither. 

He lifted his head and looked around, seeing two blonde boys snickering while they glanced their way, not noticing the stare Will shot at them. They were heading towards a silver minivan and he immediately memorized the plate number.

You won’t be safe, he thought.

“Let’s go home, Abby. Don’t tell Daddy, okay?”

“W-why not?”

“Trust me.”

»»-------¤-------««

Hannibal didn’t press further when Will refused to tell him what happened, tending to Abigail’s wounds himself. He made sure she got a sick leave so she wouldn’t have to go to school tomorrow, and Hannibal fed her tomato soup in bed. As the next morning came, Will excused himself and left the shop, with no reasoning provided. Hannibal was concerned, but he respected his wife’s privacy and waited patiently.

Will got himself busy with his own task.

It didn’t take long for him to find the house with the silver minivan parked by the road, the father was working in the garage and he saw the silhouette of the mother in her bedroom. Their door wasn’t locked when Will stepped inside, making as minimal noise as possible when he crept up the stairs. He was covered in all black with a face mask, and he had put on a wig with wavy raven hair cascading down his shoulders.

Mrs. Clinton, dressed only in a towel, freshly showered, had her back faced towards him when he pressed a chloroform soaked rag against her face, holding her steadily against his body when she struggled. She was left to the mercy of the Bride soon after, who sat her down gently on her bed, his hand lightly caressing her face.

Will’s mind was foggy throughout the entire time he was at the Clinton’s, removing the towel that was the only thing covering her body. He didn’t recognize himself, looking out the window that was his eyes and unable to move. He would’ve stopped, apologized, and walked away from this madness but he wasn’t conscious, and the world was silent around him. 

With an empty mind, he pulled out his scalpel and kneeled down, cupping the top of Mrs. Clinton’s breast and tracing the skin that connected it to the body. He was careful, detaching the breast and placing it onto the bed before he continued with the other.

When he was done, the body was left there, bare and naked, and he placed the breasts into a plastic bag. He heard the voice of the father, calling out for her name. He had started climbing up the stairs, obviously concerned from her silence, and Will smiled.

How convenient.

By the time the twins returned home that evening, they would be welcomed by two bodies by the entrance: Mrs. Clinton hung from the ceiling by the neck, with the word ‘WHORE’ carved in her torso. Mr. Clinton sat on a chair with one leg crossed over the other, his hands folded in his lap, dead eyes staring lifelessly towards the entrance. He was wearing a dress of mismatched fabric and a hat atop his bald head. His cheeks were carved all the way to the ear, portraying a wicked smile.

This is my design.

Leaving was as easy as it was when he entered, and the drive home wasn’t as quiet as he wanted it to be. His mind was filled with voices, some of which weren’t his. There was Hannibal, praising him for his methods and meticulousness, expressing love and adoration. There was Molly, the most distant voice of them all. Small and soft, a huff of disappointment and echoing the lines, “This is why I leave you, Will.” repetitively. Lastly, there was Abigail who, unlike the others, said nothing in relation to what he did. All he heard from her was a gentle “Hi, Mommy.”

He was going insane, wasn’t he? A crazy lunatic, a crazed killer like Hannibal was… or is.

He parked his car in the garage and remembered how he was barely able to stand straight upon exiting his vehicle. He smelled dinner, probably in the process, of beef and mushroom. Steak, perhaps? He wasn’t able to think though, of how delicious it would be to eat it now, or to simply spend time with Hannibal to forget what happened, but it wasn’t all that simple.

“Will, welcome home, my Love.”

Will heard the loving greeting, kicking his boots off at the entrance. “Thank you, Han.” He was tired, confused and maybe delirious. What did he do? Why? It was like he allowed Hannibal to take over his body to do such things to those people. What possessed him? What had changed in him to act that way? 

He didn’t hear Hannibal following after him, calling his name and inquiring questions of concern until he felt hands on his shoulders, and he was forced to turn to look at him.

“Will, my Darling, you are worrying me. What happened? Where have you been?”

He almost felt bad, even if he didn’t intentionally ignore his husband on purpose. He could feel himself trembling, and he was pulled into his Groom’s arms, hugging him tightly.

“Share your burdens, my Love. We shall carry it together.”

He felt… so, so grateful.

Abigail went to school the next day, and Will assured her that she will be fine. He and Hannibal went to the shop as usual, picking up their daughter from school in the evening. Will was easily recognizable from afar; a tall man in pretty dresses, oftentimes with a hat and a purse clutched in his hands. He was used to the weird looks by the parents after the first day, shrugging them off or glaring back at them so they would stop. Abigail looked happy when she stepped out of the school, however. 

The only thing that mattered.

“Mommy!” She chirped, rushing over with her hair bouncing behind her.

“Hey, Abby. Good day?”

“Yes, I made a new friend! She’s not here right now, she left during gym ‘cause she was getting an asthma attack. I’ll introduce you to her later.”

“That’s nice. Did anyone hurt you?”

“Hm… weirdly, no. When I arrived this week they laughed at me, but after what happened... to the Clintons, they were suddenly friendly.”

Will smiled, offering a hand for her to hold while they walked back to the car. “Why do you suppose that happened?”

“They said their parents were murdered…” She trailed off, her head lifting to look at Will, who was looking straight ahead.

“Unfortunate, isn’t it?” He hummed.

A smile lit up Abigail's face. 

»»-------¤-------««

It was a cozy winter evening, Abby’s school reverted to online classes due to the snow and she did all her homework in her room. Sometimes, she’d join them in the living room, or hang out in Hannibal’s workshop for some company. 

Will had come across a news excerpt floating around the internet about a criminal who had finished his sentence, now free from prison. The comments were conflicting, as usual. Some were cheering, others were condemning. His name was Garrett Jacob Hobbs, a known serial killer and cannibal with the title of the Minnesota Shrike. He was interviewed by Freddie Lounds and one of the many things he told her was:

‘I need my daughter, Abigail Hobbs.’

“Mommy?”

A gentle voice appeared behind him, and Will quietly set the tablet down to look at her. “Hey, Abby.”

“... You saw the news, didn’t you?”

Will stared, mixed emotions in his ocean blues. He had to watch his words carefully, not wanting to hurt her feelings or possibly disconnect their relationship. He had sacrificed so much for this family, he wasn’t about to just let it burn from this alone. “I did, Abby.”

“Will you drop me off at the adoption centre again?”

His mouth fell open.

He recalled the caretaker reminding him to be wary of her as she was returned three times that same month, the parents confessing discomfort. Simply because she was a killer’s daughter doesn’t automatically make her one as well? The logic was hard to wrap his head around, and he wanted to squeeze his hands so badly around the necks of those who abandoned her, while she placed her heart on the table for them.

“No, of course not. You’re here with us now.” Will assured.

“Forever Abigail Lecter, until you’re wed to someone else.” Another voice appeared as Hannibal walked out from his workshop, the door closed behind him. Abigail’s lips began to quiver, her eyes quickly shifting from Hannibal and Will in repeat, tears welling in those sapphire hues. She lunged into Will and hugged him tight, and Hannibal walked around the counter to hug them both. 

She had started crying, albeit quietly, but they both noticed, with Will offering circles of comfort on her back, and Hannibal humming his favorite song softly.

Hannibal seemed to have taken a day off, leaving Will and Abigail at home spending time together. Hannibal had mentioned that he had errands, picking up fabrics and sewing supplies, and he also wanted to replace his treadle. Will found it to be ancient, as there were other sewing machines that made his job probably a lot easier, but Hannibal enjoyed the traditional method. 

Will opted to cook with Abigail that evening after she joined a Google meet class, muted herself and turned her camera off to join her mother. 

“What do you feel like having?” Will asked, standing in front of his open refrigerator, eyeing the ingredients fresh from the market. Abigail seemed to mimic this as well, taking the spot beside him and staring. 

“Cake?”

“Sure, for dessert. Other than that?”

Abigail grinned. “Burger.”

“I’m not sure if I can make a burger that won’t have your father die from a heart attack,” Will teased, lightly tapping the tip of her nose with her forefinger. “But we can try. I’ll look up… gourmet burgers.”

Abigail’s nose scrunched in disgust from his words before they both broke into laughter.

Hannibal was late, and a quarter of the cake had been left in the refrigerator for him. Will was thinking about what to make for dinner, in case his Groom comes home exhausted. He decided on warm and hearty porridge. Something hot should help with the muscles, and personally, it helped him physically relax. 

Abigail was taking a small nap after her homework, so Will was by himself.

»»-------¤-------««

The clock struck midnight, and Will had fallen asleep on the couch. The porridge had gone cold, but Abigail believed that there was nothing wrong with reheating it later. The house was quiet, with the television’s volume lowered down to a whisper, and she heard the door creaked open with an announcement, followed by heavy boots on the front porch. Abigail got off the couch, covering Will’s head with his blanket before she calmly approached, knowing full well who it was.

“Hey, Daddy.”

“Hello, Abigail.”

They smiled, and Hannibal used the back of his hand to wipe off a streak of blood across his cheek. He had gotten messy this time, but it was only him to blame. He would usually be clean with it, but the man had angered him for hurting his family… Abigail Lecter.

“Care to help me, songbird?”

“Okay.”

She stepped out of the door and closed it quietly, not wanting to awaken their mother. They threaded into the forest, white snow coated their usual dirt path but Hannibal had memorized it already. Abigail followed behind him, lightly skipping and kicking twigs, feeling the snow in her hair. Soon, Hannibal halted his steps and decided this would be the resting place, dropping the corpse’s arm like it meant nothing to him.

He meant nothing.

Abigail crouched beside her dead father’s head, her eyes hollow and dark, the sound of dirt shoveling was the only thing accompanying them in the silence. It would’ve been eerie for others, but she had been used to this. She thought it was a curse, a life she wanted to throw away if she could start over, but Hannibal and Will… they were the best she could ask for.

Part of her was thankful for what her father did.

“Hey Dad.” She whispered, moving stray hair from his blue face, his mouth agape. Out of shock? Perhaps he was fighting Hannibal until his very last breath? She found herself smiling almost fondly while staring at the corpse of her biological father. “You just got out of prison and… you’re where you rightfully deserved now. I think Daddy did the world a favor, but I’m sure that was never his intention.” She chuckled, her knuckles brushing the body’s cheek.

She could feel the stubble, clean-shaven and fresh. He  was probably about to go find her only to be hunted instead. “It must’ve felt weird… to be at the bottom of the food chain instead, when you always thought you were at the top.” It felt like a sin, to be here by her father’s corpse right now while a grave was being opened up for him. It probably was, but she didn’t believe in any God.

Except her Daddy, maybe.

She felt the dull thud of the shovel hitting the snow as Hannibal dropped it, climbing out of the hole to put her father in. Hannibal simply kicked it in, the arms twisted and tore themselves from the body. It seemed like Hannibal had sliced through deep enough just to leave it barely hanging, and any friction had practically detached it.

They both stared for a moment as if they were mourning. Abigail was, for a short moment, until she felt herself mentally walking away from where she was, back to where Will had fallen asleep, feeling in his arms. Hannibal went to retrieve the shovel again, pushing the loose dirt and snow into the hole. The corpse slowly disappeared under the earth. “Abigail, may I ask you a question?” Hannibal asked, amidst the burial.

“Sure, Daddy.”

“If he was born a woman, do you think things would’ve been any different?”

She thought for a moment. “No,” she answered, glancing down the hole again. “I think it would’ve been worse.”

“I agree.” Hannibal echoed.

It was cold and her fingertips had gone numb but she couldn’t feel anything external. She watched in awe how the grave slowly filled itself and Hannibal even placed a carcass near the top. When he was done, he wordlessly offered his arm and she took it, walking back to their home.

“Abby, you wouldn’t know what Mommy did while you were on sick leave, would you?” Hannibal asked, curious.

Abigail smiled. She knew, Will didn’t intend for her to know though. The smile he wore was so sickeningly sweet, as if he had done the best thing in the world. He didn’t regret it, there was never a hint of hesitance for what he did, she knew it.

“I don’t, Daddy.”

»»-------¤-------««

“Han, get off me. You always do this after I shower.”

Hannibal continued to pepper kisses all over his wife’s body, his arms wrapped strongly around his waist. “You are most beautiful in your bare self.” He purred, his thumbs caressing Will’s soft stomach. Will only huffed in response, clearly unamused but he allowed his husband to do what he wanted. Besides, he was the one who had shaved him clean, it was only fair that Hannibal got the chance to feel his smooth skin. 

“I very much prefer you this way around the house.” Hannibal mused.

“We have a daughter now, Han.”

“Hmph. We have a daughter.”

Will laughed when Hannibal finally let him go to allow him to get dressed. He wore a casual shirt with a pair of shorts and he squeaked at the not-so-subtle butt squeeze when he walked past. He shot a glare at his husband, who only winked back with the most innocent look. It pissed him off.

Abigail was in the kitchen when he stepped out of the room, she was in her school uniform, all ready to be sent. Hannibal had put on his usual work attire, white shirt, coloured vest that matched his slacks, leather shoes and glovelettes. Will kissed them both goodbye after he packed their lunches, and waved them out the door. This felt normal, a life he wanted and dreamt of having. It didn’t involve Molly, or his dogs, or being alone and going crazy, but he felt loved, well taken care of, showered with affection and gifts by the Groom himself.

A sense of normalcy, shared by two psychopaths and a troubled child.

A family.