Chaper 1: The heart of the home
"Lamprey à la Bordelaise,",Hannibal said, carefully placing one of the deliciously looking dish in front of Will before settling down with his own. "Bon Appètit"
It was still beyond Will how the other managed to make anything on a plate look like art even if Hannibal always took hours in the kitchen. Honestly, Will felt bad for only receiving fancy after fancy dish and contributing next to nothing himself besides washing, cutting and slicing whatever Hannibal put in front of him. It wasn't like he couldn't cook, but compared to the magic Hannibal worked in the kitchen his skill wasn't even worth mentioning. Admittedly, Hannibal didn't mind all the cooking, quite the contrary. He enjoy
preparing food for Will and observing him eat. Still, it didn't sit right with Will.
"Is something the matter, Will? You seem troubled." Hannibal's piercing gaze seemed to force the answer straight out of Will's throat.
He felt his cheeks heating slightly even before he breathed the first word and cursed his traitorous body. After killing, kissing and everything else he'd done with Hannibal this really shouldn't make him feel like a teenager asking for a date.
"I'm aware that my skills, when it comes to cooking, aren't nearly anywhere near the level you are used to but I'd like to, I mean if you want to that is," Will stammered when he saw the small smile that barely tugged at Hannibal's lips. "I'd like to prepare dinner for us from time to time."
The look Hannibal gifted him with made Will's breath catch in his throat. Even after all the times Hannibal had looked at him like this it still felt foreign, alien to Will to be regarded with such adoration and love.
"It would be my pleasure. I'd very much like to experience your cooking, my dear Will."
Of course, Hannibal was well aware of the fact that Will's skill were barely more than adequate but hearing Will uttering the words, his slightly flushed cheeks and his obvious embarrassment pleased Hannibal immensely. People had rarely ever invited Hannibal for dinner after having tasted his talent. Without a doubt Will was nervous and afraid of somehow disappointing Hannibal, he could smell Will's worry, it hung practically tangible in the air between them. It was exquisite. Besides, he appreciated everything Will did for him. Everything he had done and would do for him.
It was a first for him to be accepted and loved in such a way even after knowing the darkest parts and black holes of his soul.
Staring at his empty plate Will felt the nervousness creeping up on him, trying to strangle every sane thought he owned and drowning him in immobility. After all the things he had seen and committed it was vexing that such a comparably simple task send his heart aflutter with nerves. It made his new scars itch.
Rationally, he knew that there was no reason to be nervous, that Hannibal would be pleased with Will's gesture no matter how bad the dish would taste, though of course quality food would please Hannibal more. It was like trying to convince your paranoia that there was no reason to be so frightened. The conscious self was well aware that this was true but the primal level didn't understand, continuing to shy away terrified.
The question of what to prepare kept Will awake for some time, sitting in the living room and scrolling through the internet. Then recipe shouldn't be too easy but not so difficult that Will would totally embarrass himself. When he finally went to bed he could positively feel the amusement radiating off of Hannibal. The man seemed to have a thing for relishing in Will's troubles far too much to make it okay. Sometimes he really wanted to smother the man with his own pillow.
Although the dishes he had chosen weren't overly difficult, at least he hoped they weren't, he had felt compelled to do a three course menu. Of course he didn't delude himself, thinking that he'd ever be able to make something that scratched Hannibal's standards, but he at least wanted to try as hard as he could. Though everything had names he at least could pronounce properly.
Soon, Will fell into an uneasy sleep. Plagued by images of Hannibal's face split between amusement, adoration and disgust as Will served his meals.
The rays of daylight proofed to be little better, reason still battling with fears and sending him askew throughout the whole day. Why couldn't he have just asked Hannibal to teach him how to cook some of the fancy meals, though they never would've tasted as good? Or asked if he could prepare breakfast every morning? Will sighed as he strolled through the ridiculously huge supermarket trying to locate the next item on his list.
The smell emerging from the kitchen wasn't unpleasant but Hannibal already knew not to expect a culinary delicacy from Will. Still, he was excited to taste the meal Will made for them both, simply because it was Will and the fact that he wanted to do something for Hannibal.
An appealing salad with a few slices of grilled salmon and complimented with asparagus greeted his sight when an adorably anxious Will emerged from the kitchen.
"Bonefish salad with a citrus vinaigrette, " Will tried to place the plate gracefully in front of Hannibal but didn't quite succeed. "Only two people at this table tonight."
The fraction of a smile appeared on his face." I don't mind it being just two people gracing tonight's dinner as long as it's you I can enjoy it with." He positively loved bringing a blush to Will's face.
"Some say the dinner table is the heart of the home. All activities cease for a while to settle down and enjoy one's meal."
"I would wager that for most homes the wife is the heart. Take her out and what all would cease working before someone else takes on the part?"
"True, but we are not most households, unless you wanted to imply something with the part of the wife." Will choked a bit on a piece of salmon to the soft sound of Hannibal's amused chuckle. Hannibal was well aware that Will had not meant it like that, properly remembering his childhood home, but he couldn't help tease the man.
Neither the bonefish salad nor the spicy tuna bowl with jasmin rice and passion fruit salsa had been bad and it was gratifying to tell Will so, just to see his face break into relieved smile. The Jamaican coconut pie proved that Will had an obvious talent when it came to baking and Hannibal made a mental note to prepare desert with Will from time to time. Hannibal loved baking as well, but not quite as much as cooking. A nagging suspicion at the back of his mind told him it was because it was vegetarian far too often but he chose to ignore it.
Though Will had protested vehemently, Hannibal helped cleaning the table, stopping only the tiniest fraction of a second when he entered the kitchen. It was no surprise Will had wanted to clean up on his own, trying to spare Hannibal the sight that greeted him now.
Dirty pans and dishes littered a good part of the kitchen, spilled sauce here and there, leftover or improper cut ingredients still decorating various surfaces of cutting boards.
"Sorry," Will glanced at Hannibal, shrugging a bit guiltily. "My time management for preparing a three course menu still needs improving. I don't know how you accomplish it to leave the kitchen so spotless."
It really was painfully obvious that this had been Will's first full menu, completely prepared and executed all by himself. Hannibal felt equally parts troubled by the state of his kitchen and touched by Will's attempt to please him.
His gaze settled on Will who tried to not shift uncomfortably from foot to foot.
"Tomorrow we'll begin practising how to properly conduct a demanding dinner, though your effort has been rather pleasing for a novice."
Monday, 28 September 2015
Saturday, 26 September 2015
Perfectionist
Thursday, 18:46
The smell of a not quite too long worn shirt perturbed Hannibal's nose, though he loved the underlying smell of Will. For a long while he stared at the piece of clothing lying on the couch. His fingers twitched to remove the mindlessly discarded piece of clothing. No, he wouldn't. Sooner or later Will would notice and take care of it himself.
The kitchen was better. No piece out of place. Hannibal took a calming breath. It always made him feel grounded to stand in his perfectly organised kitchen, ready to start preparing dinner.
Slicing the meat, seasoning it to meticulous flavour with a soft caress, artistically preparing every ingredient that would highlight his dish. It was wonderful to feel such control.
The shirt decorating a chair made his eye almost twitch when he placed the plate in front of Will. No reaction came past his perfected control though. Patience was the key. Will's empathic abilities would surely let him realise how much those tiny imperfections bothered him and they'd be gone soon.
When Will went upstairs, shirt still lying forgotten in the living room Hannibal remembered that he had wanted to do the laundry this evenying.
Friday, 7:15
Hannibal stared at the coffee cup greeting his first step into his almost perfectly organised kitchen standing next to the sink. The dishwasher was opened a bit, mocking him with it's visibleness. It seemed like it was laughing at him, but Hannibal was aware that that was just his mind taunting him. Patience was the key. Pointing out someones mistakes wasn't nearly as easy to accept for the other person as realising it themselves was. Realising something yourself added no sting of reprimandation and was therefore much easier to accept. Hannibal was a predator and if there was something he had learned it was waiting patiently. Though every other sense in him seemed to try strangling the shirnking piece of patience. His will was strong. He had managed to wait for Will to accept the gruesome and bloody beauty for what it was and he could wait just as long for Will to realise that he couldn't leave things lying around and wait days before removing them.
Opening the dishwasher showed Hannibal that it was nearly full and had just enough room for Will's and his mug before it had to be activated.
Friday, 16:54
It had been raining the whole day, transforming every piece of soil in it's wake into a puddle of mud. Hannibal hurried to get the groveries inside the house before the paper bags soaked through.
The opened front door revealed a trail of dirt leading into the living room where Will rested on the couch sleeping, an angelic smile tugged around his lips. Hannibal didn't wasn't sure which urge was stronger. Touching the smile on Will's face with his lips or smothering him with the pillow lying on the floor.
Something dripped from the grocery bag and Hannibal hurried to the kitchen. He needed to clean that up lest it left stains in the wooden floor.
Friday, 21:33
The feel of Will's skin beneath Hannibal was heavenly. Nothing in the world came close of being able and allowed to touch Will and drag those unearthly sounds out of the man's flesh. Feeling heat and neediness beneath his every finger but Hannibal's nose was assaulted with the smell of a hard days labour and he had no clue as to how to make his keen smell go away for a few blessed minutes.
Saturday, 7:02
The reflection in his mirror stared back at him blackly, no emotion mirroring it's emotions after it had seen the few tiny pieces of stubble darkening the perfect white of expensive ceramic. Hannibal's blank face mirrored the landscape of his mind perfectly. He didn't know how to react anymore. Will's empathy had be the end of the tunnel, the salve on his brain to tame his perfectionistic side and lead it to less violent, no, impatient waters. Hannibal was well aware of the fact that there would be no one like Will ever again and he'd never let his negative emotions get the better of him again.
There were a few stubbles on his face. He would need to shave before going downstairs.
Saturday, 7:21
The dirty shirt lying on the couch was the last straw. His piercing gaze settled on the man sitting next to it.
"Will, I'm neither your housemaid nor your wife." His eyes wandered to the offending shirt and Will turned his head slightly to see what had caught Hannibal's attention. Will's lips twitched the tiniest bit in amusement and Hannibal had to be no empath to know what went through the other's mind.
He could practically see the mental check list. Cooking. Cleaning. Doing the laundry. Decorating the house.
Nostrils flaring, Hannibal turned around to go check if the laundry was already dry. He would not take the shirt with him.
"Please wait, Hannibal." Will's hand curled around his wrist, gently urging him to turn around. "Sorry." The small smile threatening to take over Will's mouth said that he was anything but. Surely Will would be able to live with a few digits less. Hannibal could cook them like chicken wings.
Dark curls tickling his cheek cut off Hannibal's line of thought and Will gave him a small, chaste kiss on the mouth.
"I was just curious what you would do when I messed a bit with your cleaning kink." The mischievous twinkle in Will's eyes suited his handsome features far too good.
The smell of a not quite too long worn shirt perturbed Hannibal's nose, though he loved the underlying smell of Will. For a long while he stared at the piece of clothing lying on the couch. His fingers twitched to remove the mindlessly discarded piece of clothing. No, he wouldn't. Sooner or later Will would notice and take care of it himself.
The kitchen was better. No piece out of place. Hannibal took a calming breath. It always made him feel grounded to stand in his perfectly organised kitchen, ready to start preparing dinner.
Slicing the meat, seasoning it to meticulous flavour with a soft caress, artistically preparing every ingredient that would highlight his dish. It was wonderful to feel such control.
The shirt decorating a chair made his eye almost twitch when he placed the plate in front of Will. No reaction came past his perfected control though. Patience was the key. Will's empathic abilities would surely let him realise how much those tiny imperfections bothered him and they'd be gone soon.
When Will went upstairs, shirt still lying forgotten in the living room Hannibal remembered that he had wanted to do the laundry this evenying.
Friday, 7:15
Hannibal stared at the coffee cup greeting his first step into his almost perfectly organised kitchen standing next to the sink. The dishwasher was opened a bit, mocking him with it's visibleness. It seemed like it was laughing at him, but Hannibal was aware that that was just his mind taunting him. Patience was the key. Pointing out someones mistakes wasn't nearly as easy to accept for the other person as realising it themselves was. Realising something yourself added no sting of reprimandation and was therefore much easier to accept. Hannibal was a predator and if there was something he had learned it was waiting patiently. Though every other sense in him seemed to try strangling the shirnking piece of patience. His will was strong. He had managed to wait for Will to accept the gruesome and bloody beauty for what it was and he could wait just as long for Will to realise that he couldn't leave things lying around and wait days before removing them.
Opening the dishwasher showed Hannibal that it was nearly full and had just enough room for Will's and his mug before it had to be activated.
Friday, 16:54
It had been raining the whole day, transforming every piece of soil in it's wake into a puddle of mud. Hannibal hurried to get the groveries inside the house before the paper bags soaked through.
The opened front door revealed a trail of dirt leading into the living room where Will rested on the couch sleeping, an angelic smile tugged around his lips. Hannibal didn't wasn't sure which urge was stronger. Touching the smile on Will's face with his lips or smothering him with the pillow lying on the floor.
Something dripped from the grocery bag and Hannibal hurried to the kitchen. He needed to clean that up lest it left stains in the wooden floor.
Friday, 21:33
The feel of Will's skin beneath Hannibal was heavenly. Nothing in the world came close of being able and allowed to touch Will and drag those unearthly sounds out of the man's flesh. Feeling heat and neediness beneath his every finger but Hannibal's nose was assaulted with the smell of a hard days labour and he had no clue as to how to make his keen smell go away for a few blessed minutes.
Saturday, 7:02
The reflection in his mirror stared back at him blackly, no emotion mirroring it's emotions after it had seen the few tiny pieces of stubble darkening the perfect white of expensive ceramic. Hannibal's blank face mirrored the landscape of his mind perfectly. He didn't know how to react anymore. Will's empathy had be the end of the tunnel, the salve on his brain to tame his perfectionistic side and lead it to less violent, no, impatient waters. Hannibal was well aware of the fact that there would be no one like Will ever again and he'd never let his negative emotions get the better of him again.
There were a few stubbles on his face. He would need to shave before going downstairs.
Saturday, 7:21
The dirty shirt lying on the couch was the last straw. His piercing gaze settled on the man sitting next to it.
"Will, I'm neither your housemaid nor your wife." His eyes wandered to the offending shirt and Will turned his head slightly to see what had caught Hannibal's attention. Will's lips twitched the tiniest bit in amusement and Hannibal had to be no empath to know what went through the other's mind.
He could practically see the mental check list. Cooking. Cleaning. Doing the laundry. Decorating the house.
Nostrils flaring, Hannibal turned around to go check if the laundry was already dry. He would not take the shirt with him.
"Please wait, Hannibal." Will's hand curled around his wrist, gently urging him to turn around. "Sorry." The small smile threatening to take over Will's mouth said that he was anything but. Surely Will would be able to live with a few digits less. Hannibal could cook them like chicken wings.
Dark curls tickling his cheek cut off Hannibal's line of thought and Will gave him a small, chaste kiss on the mouth.
"I was just curious what you would do when I messed a bit with your cleaning kink." The mischievous twinkle in Will's eyes suited his handsome features far too good.
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