Chapter Text
“What do you think of Doctor Lecter?”
Will raises a brow at a glacial pace. They both know that Hannibal is supposed to be the one reporting to Jack on Will, but apparently Jack’s trust only extends so far. Or something in particular is bothering him.
“You’re going to have to be more specific,” Will says.
Jack sighs and taps his thumbs on the steering wheel. “Doesn’t it strike you as odd that he’s not mated?”
“It strikes you as odd,” Will observes. Truthfully, he hasn’t given it too much thought. Will isn’t mated after all, and Hannibal is a different variation on a solitary creature. “He’s a control freak, a bit of a narcissist, and is married to his work. Taken in context, it’s not that odd. A bit old fashioned of you to question his judgment because he’s single.”
Will doesn’t ask if Jack questions his judgment because he’s single. That’s got to be far down the list of reasons to worry about his stability.
“The more I get to know him, the more I wonder about it,” Jack explains. “It has to be a choice.”
“Why don’t you ask him?” Will tries not to snap, not sure what exactly is bothering him.
Will ends up thinking about it, after Jack asks.
It doesn’t add up to the model of Hannibal he’s forming in his head. The man is wealthy, successful, social, and at his age he’s no doubt had plenty of suitors. He doesn’t have the scent or mark of a previous mate. It’s a conscious decision to remain unmated, Will is sure. Hannibal wants to be alone.
Will just doesn’t know why.
“Jack asked me if I thought it was odd that you’re unmated.”
Hannibal tilts his head and regards Will from the opposite chair. “And what’s the verdict?”
“I told him it didn’t seem that strange.”
Hannibal clicks his tongue softly. “Jack is certainly not the first to ask, nor will he be the last. You’re not mated.”
“That’s different.”
“How so?”
Will isn’t going to let him get away with turning the conversation to be about Will, but for now he’ll give a little to get a little. “My strangeness is obvious even at a glance. I don’t have your wealth or proper breeding. And I’m younger than you.”
Hannibal smiles. “Still time to settle down. I have to say, I’m looking forward to the time, not too far off now, where I’ll be firmly outside my childbearing years and people will stop trying to set me up.”
“So you’re wed to being a bachelor.”
Hannibal’s eyes narrow a fraction, watching Will closely. “Do you find it strange?”
That choice of word is deliberate. Conversations with Hannibal always feel like a game, and it's thrilling to have someone keen enough to keep up with him. “It couldn’t have been easy being an omega surgeon," Will ventures.
“Being subject to bigotries did not make me eager to embrace the traditional family.”
“But it would have been easier,” Will pressed. “You could have found someone to support your ambitions and keep the gossipers and matchmakers out of your hair.”
“Perhaps I never found the right person.”
Will leans forward. “You did, though. You’ve found acceptable mates. Ones who could work well enough. Maybe you even let them court you, for a time. But you have to be alone, don’t you?”
Hannibal doesn’t answer directly, but he doesn’t deny it. He’s amused. Will can smell it, a slight spark in the air. He’s starting to be able to read the other man.
Will has suffered through introductions and appetizers, and he’s not sure how much more of the party he can take. These aren’t his people, if anyone could be said to be ‘his people’. But he’s curious now, to see what Hannibal is like in this context.
He’s a perfect social butterfly. His hospitality is omega warmth with a sharp edge—bountiful food and drink, warm light, but sharp-toothed specimens watching from shelves, the spines of a sea urchin on a plate. Everyone has eyes for him and his attention, like he’s as bright as the sun.
There’s a social dance that Will doesn’t exactly know the steps to, but he senses them. Conversations turning, polite exits and entrances, gossip, a slight touch here and there, scents mingling in the room. Will is curt to those he meets and spends most of his time near Alana’s side. Hannibal is too busy to stay by anyone’s side, but he does send Will conspiratorial looks every now and again.
Will is one of only a handful of unmated people in attendance. One of which is a young alpha, maybe mid twenties, who is very keen on Hannibal. He’s handsome and clearly strong, athletic under a fine suit, all sharp features and a charming smile. Will watches when an older omega woman introduces the young man to Hannibal. He’s not too forward, but his interest is clear, a warm tang in the air and a protective slant to his body language.
When Hannibal excuses himself to make his rounds, the young man watches him, and then talks with the omega woman. A relative. It’s all painfully obvious.
Later, after they’ve eaten dinner and everyone is getting tipsy and enjoying coffee and brandy in the lounge, Hannibal and the alpha are speaking alone in the corner. The sight makes Will’s teeth itch. Hannibal’s body language is more open, his head tilted to show his neck. Will’s stomach flips as he sees Hannibal rest a hand on the man’s arm and laugh at something he says.
“Are you okay, Will?” Alana asks him.
He needs a stronger drink.
When he arrives at Hannibal’s office for their next session, there’s a bouquet of flowers in a vase by the window. Will goes to it immediately.
“He’s courting you,” Will observes.
“He wants to court me,” Hannibal corrects. He slowly makes his way towards the windows. Standing next to Will, Hannibal clasps his hands behind his back and leans forward to sniff the arrangement. Hannibal’s own scent mixes in with the flowers; it’s always savory, but there is a bright, citrus note there now. Will hasn't smelled it before. “These people are traditionalists. After sending a gift, I can either send one in return, or merely give my thanks.”
“You have a polite out.”
“There are some benefits to the old ways.” With a slender finger, Hannibal strokes one of the white petals. “I’m surprised any of this interests you.”
Which is a polite way of saying that Will is being nosy. That his interest is conspicuous. Will had not previously thought of Hannibal as an omega. His designation was happenstance. Mating was far from Will’s mind; the complexities of dynamic interactions were enough.
Will knows he’s behaving like he has an interest. But he can’t seem to stop.
“It surprises me as well,” he allows.
That weekend, Will brings Hannibal a cooler of fish. “Lucky catch. I have plenty in my freezer, so I thought you could use them.”
Hannibal’s eyes are dark with mischief. “Thank you, Will. Can you stay for dinner?”