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Blood, Gore, and Bad Grades

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Will clutched his books tighter to his chest and ducked his head down just enough so that his face was hidden, but it wasn't overly obvious, as he passed by the segment of lockers adjacent to the first floor bathrooms. This is where the small group of upperclassmen who absolutely hated Will hung out each day between second and third period. This also happened to be the hallway that Will walked through to get to lunch everyday. Because of this coincidence, Will was harassed by this group nearly every single day. Sometimes he'd be able to avoid it by hiding his face just so, but sometimes if he tried too hard not to be noticed it outed him faster than if he weren't.

Will realized it was not one of those few days where he got off easy when Freddie Lounds turned slightly to say something to her boyfriend Frederick Chilton and Will, out of impulse, ducked down in a way too quick not to be noticed.

“Will Graham,” Freddie announced cooley. “Look at you trying to duck pass.”

The four boys of the group circled around Will and hovered over him until he moved with them to the side of the hallway, away from all the other students rushing to class. Will looked up at the four as they stared down at him with smugness and rebellion gleaming in their eyes. All four where seniors, and with Will being a sophomore on the shorter side, he didn't exactly have a lot to work with when it came to intimidation.

“That's adorable! Did you really think that would work,” Freddie said as she came to stand next to Frederick, her hand sliding up his back to rest her arm on his shoulder. Will watched as Frederick’s own arm snaked around her waist to pull her close and the couple smirked down at him as if he had anything to be jealous about.

The two obviously hated each other; they only dated because they thought it was expected of them. They constantly posted obviously posed photos on social media and Freddie was constantly talking about what a big deal it was that she, a junior, was dating a senior. Neither were good indicators that the two were actually happy, but Will also knew for a fact that they fought at least three times a week based on how close they stood together, if at all, when the group pulled little stunts like this.

Will’s eye was caught to Frederick playing with Freddie’s curly red hair. ‘They must've had sex last night,’ Will thought to himself.

Mason Verger pulled Will out of his thoughts when he said, “look how easily he moved with us. Like a cow to slaughter.” Will rolled his eyes at Mason’s poor attempt at humor. Mason’s family owned a large slaughterhouse outside of town and he was constantly trying to remind people of his wealth so it shouldn't be surprising that he'd bring it up even now.

“Well that's a bit rude, don't you think,” Abel Gideon drawled out. “Rolling your eyes at someone.”

Abel Gideon was the shortest, and chubbiest, of the group. He had a goatee that he obviously spent way too much time grooming, but he was actually incredibly smart. Will had heard that he planned to go into medicine after high school by his friend Alana who had a few classes with him.

“Well, Abel. I can't say that's as rude as harassing some kid you don't know. Every single day,” Will growled out, leveling Abel with a glare.

“You better watch yourself Graham,” Frederick bit out. Will turned around to face him. “You're going to get your ass beat.”

“But you won't do that will you? Not today at least, not without Francis here. He'd tear you a new one,” Will said knowingly as he stepped closer to Frederick until he was up in his face.

Frederick was taken aback, knowing that Will was right. They never got physical with Will when Francis wasn't there. Will partially thought it was because Francis told them not to, that he wanted to be there to see Will get hurt, and another part of him thought it was because they all wanted to show off to Francis.

Francis Dolarhyde was the leader of their group. He was a second year senior who worked part time at the local newspaper taking pictures for articles. He was insanely tall and muscular, even for a nineteen year old. He had a cleft lip and palate that Will suspected is part of the reason he has such violent tendencies. That, along with the abuse Will believed he had suffered growing up, caused him to have an almost obsession with hurting Will. This obsession had gotten to the point that he'd follow Will around school between classes just to give him a shove whenever an occasion arose, try and beat Will on the rare occasions they saw each other out of school, and ban the other members of his group from hurting Will when he wasn't around.

Will had tried to understand Francis’ basic underlying thinking on this matter, but could never fully grasp it. Francis was just...off. In a violent, watchlist sort of way.

Will did understand, however, that the other five would never cross Francis, so he knew he was safe for the day and they did too. The group slowly backed away from Will when the bell sounded loudly over the intercom, signaling the start of the next period. They all sent him death glares as they moved back to their lockers to collect their things to go to their classes, but no one stared longer than Garrett.

Garrett Jacob-Hobbs also seemed to have an obsession with Will, but not similar to Francis’. Though Garrett was always up for knocking Will’s lunch out of his hands or throwing his homework in the toilet, he didn't like to get physical with Will as much as he just liked to stare at him with his cold, near dead-like eyes. And in most cases, Will preferred Francis’ beatings to the unnerving, almost promising gaze Garrett would set on him.

Will knew it didn't help that Will was close with Garrett’s younger sister Abigail whom Garrett loved very much, but Will was glad for Abigail’s friendship and was almost more protective of her than Garrett was.

The two stared at each other until Garrett had walked too far away to strain his neck back enough to keep the eye contact. Though, Will continued to look at him to be sure they wouldn't change their minds and turn around until they had all disappeared around a corner.

Will let out a sigh of relief and walked down the empty hallway towards the cafeteria. He weaved through the tables and people until he reached his regular table, the one him and his friends had sat at all semester.

His friends had already began eating their lunches and were laughing loudly at whatever Beverly had just said as Will sat down next to Alana. Their laughter died down when they turned to notice him and his irritated expression.

“Hey, Will. What's up? Those assholes give you a hard time again,” Brian asked with a concerned look. Will shook his head.

“No they just stopped me in the hall to annoy me. Nothing happened.”

“Garrett didn't do anything did he? I keep telling him to back off you. I have no idea why he's like this,” Abigail said from beside Will with a glare.

Abigail was a freshman and she was still going through her awkward phase where she was still trying to find herself, so she tried dressing like those around her. This caused her to wear the terribly clashy outfits of all their friends’ wardrobes combined, like today. She wore an old shirt that Will thought Alana had given her under a leather jacket that was nearly identical to the one hanging off the back of Beverly’s chair, and a pair of shoes that looked like a more expensive, female version of the pair Will wore. The group agreed that she looked identical to a shoplifter at Goodwill, but they loved her for it. And Will had to admit, she was pretty cute.

Will smiled at her as he explained, “nah, he didn't do anything.

“Well I think you should report them,” Jack said without looking up from his book before he took a bite of the undercooked chili they were serving that day. ‘There's Jack for ya,’ Will thought. ‘Always trying to protect others, always acting like he doesn't actually care.’

“He reports them constantly, nothing ever gets done,” Alana cut in as she rubbed Will’s back reassuringly. ‘And that's Alana for you. Always argumentative, always comforting.’

Will found himself leaning into her touch, causing her to continue her movements by scratching up his back until she ran her hand through his unruly, curly hair before she dropped it back down to the table. Will caught Abigail sending a heated glare to said hand before she turned to look to Beverly who had started to speak up.

“Maybe I should meet you outside your class and walk to lunch with you like I used to. They didn't seem to bother you when you had a senior walking with you,” she said as he piled some broken crackers onto her chili.

‘They left me alone when I was with you because you're a badass, not because you're a senior,’ Will thought as he watched the muscles in her arms flex, visible even under her long sleeved shirt.

“How would that help? We're only here for another three days,” Jimmy cut into the conversation and Will’s thoughts.

“Oh shit! I totally forgot,” Beverly said with a laugh.

“God, I can't believe it's only three days until you guys are off,” Alana said, surprised.

“I still think it's totally unfair that lower class men can't go,” Abigail complained. “Maybe freshmen and sophomores want to go to London too. Right Will,” she asked, turning to him, looking for support. Will dropped his head when everyone looked at him, and rubbed at a scratch on the table.

“Yeah, I don't think spending an entire semester in another country is really something I'd be interested in.”

“They have fishing in London too, Will,” Jack teased.

“Still,” Will said with a smile. Jack smiled back before dropping his gaze back on his book.

“I still stand by my point,” Abigail said as she pointedly took a bite of her salad.

“Hey, we had to wait four years, so do you,” Jimmy said as he mockingly took a bite of his own salad as dramatically as Abigail had done. The two shared a laugh as the rest of them smiled at their antics.

“What all are you guys going to be doing,” Alana asked.

“Going to school mostly,” Beverly said jokingly. Alana rolled her eyes with a grin.

“Other than that.”

“Oh I don't know, probably sightsee, go to a couple museums, or maybe go see David Bowie live,” Beverly answered, trying to act casual. Will watched as Jimmy and Brian realized what she said and they both latched onto her with wide grins plastered on their faces.

“You got the tickets,” Jimmy practically yelled.

“Yup. March third,” Beverly answered with an excited smile. The two boys struggled to contain themselves as Beverly addressed Jack who looked like he was both happy for them, and annoyed by them. “Jack I didn't get you a ticket because I figured you wouldn't want to around a large group of people, especially with us.”

Jack gave her a smile as he said, “I appreciate that.”

“I can't believe you guys are going to see Bowie,” Alana said.

“I can't believe you aren't going,” Brian countered. Alana waved him off as she continued to eat her meal. “No seriously. You're a senior, why didn't you apply to go?”

“Because I can't miss my classes at the community college. There was no way I could continue the classes at a school in London and still get the credits I need,” Alana explained. “Also, how could I leave this face,” she said as she teasingly pinched Will’s cheek, causing him to laugh and bat her hand away. The group started to laugh but was cut off.

“Will, aren't you going to eat,” Abigail asked forcefully, obviously uncomfortable with Alana's actions. The group looked at her confused as she stared at Will expectantly with those eyes that were eerily similar to her brother’s.

“Um, I'm good but thanks,” Will said, trying to be polite. An awkward silence fell over the group until Jimmy decides to cut the tension.

“So, did you guys hear what the Archangels did last night?

“What,” Beverly, Brian, and Abigail asked in unison as they all leaned in closer to Jimmy, the other three simply looking up at him, obviously not as invested as the others.

“Well, apparently they owed a mechanic shop some money, because they're a biker gang ya know,” Jimmy started, adding his own flare to the story and making the others laugh. “Well, apparently this mechanic shop somehow got in contact with them and asked them to pay their bills, and that pissed them off, so they snuck in last night and totally trashed the place and beat the owner up pretty bad.” Brian gasped in shock, his eyes wide.

“No!” Jimmy nods and holds up his hand in scouts honor.

“I swear.”

“No,” Brian says again, still shocked.

“Wouldn't that just make them owe him more,” Beverly asked, confused. Jimmy simply shrugged.

“Is he going to press charges,” Abigail asked.

“I don't think so.”

“Well it was pretty ballsy of him to contact them in the first place. Most people don't fuck with them,” Brian said before he took a swig of his milk.

“That's why he got his ass beat,” Jack mumbled, trying not to let anyone hear.

Everyone in the group must've heard, however, because they burst out in uproarious laughter. Will watched Jack shake his head disapprovingly, but he also noticed the smirk Jack was trying to hide.

The group finished their meals quickly, chatting away about classes and the four’s upcoming trip until they all stood up to get rid of their trays, leaving Will alone at the table.

He busied himself with his math homework until he saw a new figure sit down next to him out of the corner of his eye. He looked up to see Margot Verger staring at him with a blank expression. Margot was the younger sister of Mason Verger, and based on what Will could see and what he'd heard, the two absolutely hated each other. It was rumored, but not proven, that Mason beat Margot for trying to wiggle him out of their family business, which he was next in line to run, but Will could tell by the way Margot held herself that the rumors were true.

Will did a quick once over of her before he met her eyes again. “Margot. How can I help you?”

“I saw Mason and his friends cornered you again today,” she said bluntly.

“Yeah they tend to do that.”

“Why don't you fight back,” she asked, in a monotone voice.

“Because there's six of them and one of me,” Will explained incredulously.

“You have friends, why don't you get them to help?”

“I couldn't ask them to stain their perfect records for me,” Will said mockingly before he looked back down to his homework, trying to Will her to leave.

“I've personally witnessed Beverly Katz punch Eldon Stammets on several different occasions, I'm sure they'd be fine with it.”

Will slowly looked back up at her with a glare and they stared at each other for a long moment until Alana walked back over to the table.

“Margot? What're you doing here,” she asked.

“Margot wants us to beat up her brother for her,” Will said, not taking his eyes off of Margot.

“Yeah that's not gonna happen,” Brian said as he sat back down in his seat, leveling Margot with a glare.

Margot looked between the three of them before standing up and walking past Alana. The two stared at each other as they passed until Alana turned around to sit back in her seat next to Will.

“What was that,” Jimmy asked as he sat down.

“What was what,” Alana asked as she busied herself with her backpack, trying to play it off.

“That stare,” Jimmy explained.

“That lingering stare,” Brian added. The two looked to each other before nodding and turning back to Alana whose eyes were closed in annoyance. She opened them to give the two a look before going back to rifling through her backpack, trying to look busy.

“It wasn't a lingering stare, it was a glare.”

“There was definitely tension behind it,” Jimmy said. Alana looked up to send him with a glare, to which he returned with a smug smile.

“What was there tension behind,” Abigail asked as she, Beverly, and Jack all returned to their seats.

“Nothing,” Alana said quickly, cutting him off before he could say anything. When he turned to give her a look she simply raised an eyebrow at him, ending the debate. The two smiled at each other as Beverly looked between the two of them, confused.

“I feel like I missed something,” she said.

“Well we all missed you punching Eldon Stammets so I'd say we were even,” Will said, giving her a smirk. Beverly threw back her head in laughter as the others joined in, making Will feel both pleased and self conscious as he smiled down at his feet while he fiddled with his hands.

***

It was Sunday night and Will was sitting alone in his room, killing time on his phone. He scrolled through Instagram and saw Beverly’s post of all her suitcases piled up next to her front door. She had posted with it a comment saying “can't wait for tomorrow #londonbond”. He tried to ignore the twinge of hurt in his chest as he keeps scrolling.

Will scrolled past Jimmy and Brian's posts of their passports and he had just gotten down to Jack’s girlfriend Bella’s post of them packing Jack’s suitcases. Jack’s back was turned in the photo and he was obviously oblivious to it being taken. Will chuckled at the thought just when a knock sounded from his front door. He sighed and got up from his bed before he walked across his trailer to open the door.

Alana stood on the other side, bundled up in her winter coat, a smile on her face.

“Alana, hey,” Will greeted, surprised.

“Hey, Will. Sorry, I should've texted you.”

“No it's fine. Come on in.” Will stood to the side so she could walk inside. He closed the door behind her, blocking out the cold and when he turned back around to face her she was shedding her coat and looking around the cramped living room and kitchen that made up the front of the trailer.

“I haven't been here since freshman year,” she said as she looked back to face him. Will rubbed his hands on his sweatpants before crossing his arms at his chest, obviously uncomfortable.

“Yeah well… I don't usually have people over.” The smile Alana offered calmed him down considerably.

“Where's your dad?”

“Work.” Alana nodded in understanding. They stood in silence for a long beat, Alana looking around, Will watching her.

“What're you doing here,” Will finally asked.

“I was worried about you. With Beverly and the boys going away tomorrow and all,” she explained.

“You're not leaving.”

“No, but I was still a little,” she paused to try and think of how to phrase it.

“Nervous,” Will finished for her. She gave him a thankful smile.

“Nervous. I know you and Jack are close, I was just wondering how you were since you weren't gonna be able to see him for so long.”

“I'll be fine. It's only a few months,” he answered. Alana gave him an unconvinced look. Will chuckled before he rubbed his eyes tiredly. It wasn't until he opened them that he realized how close they'd become over the course of their conversation. He watched as Alana came to the realization as well, and the two relaxed into the soft, but not unwelcome, tension that fell over the room.

“I promise that I'm okay, and if I get to not be okay I'll tell you,” Will said as he looked into Alana’s eyes, showing her that he was serious.

“Good. I don't want you to think you're all alone with Jack gone,” she responded, not looking away from his dark eyes.

“I know I'm not alone.” The two stood in silence, letting the tension fill the room until Alana pulled Will into a tight hug, one he returned hesitantly after getting over the shock and initial anxiety.

They pulled away after a beat, and while doing so Alana paused, as if she didn't want to let go, and for a brief moment Will thought she might kiss him.

But instead she gave him her signature, sweet smile before she stepped back and pulled her coat back on.

“I'll see you tomorrow, Will.”

“Bye, Alana.” Will watched as she closed the door behind her, leaving Will alone in that dark trailer.

Chapter Text

When Will first walked into the main entrance of the school he immediately noticed the surplus of students in the usually avoided hallway. It was right outside the office where the principal, Mr. Harris, would sometimes come out of just to see what students were waking by, just so he could harass them to make himself feel better about his wasted life. All the students tried to avoid the hallway as a whole unless completely necessary.

What was different today though, was that the few students who had been selected to go London were all standing in the hallway, waiting for the bus to arrive to take them to the airport, and saying goodbye to their friends.

Will pushed forward until he reached where his group of friends were saying their goodbyes. Alana had just pulled out of a hug with Beverly when the six noticed him.

“Will, hey! Come to see us off,” Jimmy asked with a smile.

“Don't let it go to your head,” Will said jokingly. Jimmy extended his hand for Will to shake. Will hesitated and looked up at Jimmy, surprised.

“I know you were expecting me to pull you into some big hug, but I actually respect your boundaries, so I won't,” he explained. Will gave him a grateful smile before finally shaking his hand.

As soon as they let their grasps go, Beverly pulled Will into a tight, unyielding hug.

“Though I too respect your boundaries I'm gonna break them for a quick sec because I'm gonna miss you so much,” she said with a smile. Will slowly hugged her back, just to get it over with, but when the two pulled apart she gave him a loving smile that calmed his anxious nervous.

“I also don't like hugging people, so we're just going to do a handshake,” Brian said, holding out his hand. Will shook it with a smile before Jack called for his attention.

“Will.” Will turned to him and the two stepped towards each other. “I'm going to miss you.” Will gave him a surprised look.

“Wow, that's the most emotionally revealing thing you've ever said to me.”

“Well it's true.” They shook each other's hands firmly, both sharing a private smile that made Will realize just how much he was going to miss them over the upcoming months. “You call if you anything.” Will nodded just as Bella walked up to Jack’s side, wrapping her arms around his neck.

“That goes for me too, right,” she asked with a smile.

“Of course,” Jack answered as he pulled her into his side.

“Okay everyone, please head out to the bus,” a teacher called out. Jack gave Will a nod before hugging Bella goodbye and walking through the crowd and towards the main doors, Jimmy, Brian, and Beverly following behind him.

“Bye guys,” Abigail called after them. The four turned around to wave as they walked out the door, some more enthusiastic than others.

“Well,” Alana started as they watched the crowd around them start to thin, everyone walking to their classes. “I've got to head to chemistry. I'll see you guys later.” Will watched as she walked down the hallway, getting lost in the sea of people.

“Yeah, I need to head to creative writing,” Bella said before she started to walk away, turning back to throw Will and Abigail a wave.

“Well, what class do you have next,” Abigail asked with a bright smile.

“Um, I have open campus for first period.”

“Oh me too! Want to go sit in the courtyard?”

“Sure,” Will responded with a small smile. Abigail beamed at him in return and the two made their way down the hall towards the entrance to the courtyard that lay in the center of the school. As they walked Abigail tried to make conversation with Will, talking about her classes and her last hunting trip, but all Will could focus on was the conversations other students were having about the kids from London who had transferred over to replace the kids that had left.

“Apparently they're all from some private school,” one girl said.

“They all have funny names, like Microsoft or something,” another said.

“One of them already got in a fight. He told Matthew Brown that his girlfriend was cheating on him,” one boy said.

“How'd we know that,” another asked.

“Said he could tell by her fingernail polish.”

“Now how does that make sense?”

“Don't know. He must be a freak. Like Graham,” the boy said as he sent Will a death glare, making sure he heard him. Will quickly ducked his gaze down and continued to stare at the floor until they reached the courtyard.

They weaved through the people until they reached a small table tucked away in the corner. They sat down on the paint chipped stools and sat their backpacks down on the tabletop. Will immediately rested his head on his, using it as a pillow.

“Late night,” Abigail asked.

“My dad got in late, it woke me up. I couldn't get back to sleep after.”

“I'm sorry.” Will waved his hand, indicating that it was fine.

“Where does your dad work again,” Abigail asked as she pulled out a textbook and a notebook.

“He fixes boat motors at Ed’s repair shop.”

“Oh yeah! I think he fixed my dads motor last year,” Abigail said, but Will could tell by her tone that she was just lying to seem more interesting. He didn't call her out on it. They sat in silence as Will tried to rest and Abigail started to do her homework.

After listening to her flip through several books and dig around in her backpack, obviously looking for something, Will finally looked up and asked, “what's wrong, Abigail?”

“Um, I think me and Marissa Schurr’s accidentally took each other’s textbooks and all my homework is in mine,” Abigail explained, obviously frustrated.

“Do you know where she is?”

“Yeah, she usually eats breakfast in the cafeteria first period so I'm going to look there.” Abigail quickly gathered up all her things before standing up from the table.

“I'll see you later,” she said with a smile.

“See yea.” Will watched her walk back into the building before he went back to resting his head on his backpack, trying to get some sleep before he had to go to class.

He wasn't asleep long before a shove jolted him awake. He turned to glare at whoever had woken him, but his resolve gave way when he came face to face with a very pissed off, Francis Dolarhyde.

His deep glare brightened into an offsetting smile that pulled on the cleft of his lip. He said, “good morning,” in an overly pleasant voice. Will looked around for an escape route but saw none as the others slowly circled around him, all wearing matching smirks. “I said,” Francis started, causing Will to look back at him, “good morning.”

“Good morning,” Will bit out.

“My friends tell me that yesterday you were very rude to them.”

“Because I should be polite to them. Okay, got it,” Will said sarcastically. Francis’ grin fell back into a dark glare.

“You should show some goddamn respect. We're superior to you.”

“Everyone is,” Mason cut in. “You can't be lower than dirt.”

“You are dirt aren't you,” Francis agreed. Will struggled to maintain his cool, not wanting to explode and cause a bigger scene. “You don't belong here,” Francis said as he grabbed Will’s backpack, holding it tight against his chest and jumping back as Will reached out for it. “Dirt doesn't deserve to be here,” he growled out, his speech impairment showing slightly, as he threw Will’s bag onto the ground, causing everything to spill out of it and everyone to turn and see what was happening. Will looked up at Francis, his glare unwavering. This just managed to piss him off more as he took a step back and said, “pick it up.”

Will continued to glare up at him, not wanting to give him the satisfaction, but everyone was staring, waiting for him to make a move.

So he stood up slowly from his seat, pushed past Francis, then Frederick and Abel who tried to crowd in on him, and when he finally reached his backpack, he broke his stare at the group to look down at his disheveled possessions.

As soon as he start to lean down to pick up his things, a violent shove caught him off guard and threw him off his balance. He crashed into the group hard, and he cringed at the sound and the feeling of his teeth scraping against the cold concrete. He felt blood start to swell up in his mouth and drop down his face as he sat up into a sitting position, not bothering to get up off the ground.

Around him he heard some people laugh, and some “oooww” in sympathy. He looked up at the group as they walked past. They all looked completely satisfied with themselves, as if seeing Will bloody and bruised had made their whole week, and it probably had. ‘Mason and his sister got in another fight yesterday, Frederick and Freddie got into an argument, Garrett failed his math test, Abel didn't eat any dinner, and Francis’ grandma hit him again,’ Will thought as he watched them all walk away, their little habits and body movements telling him all he needed to know. ‘They were probably looking forward to this all night,” Will thought as he rubbed at the large cut on his cheek before he started to gather up his things.

He stood up from the ground, and after slinging his backpack over his shoulder, made his way inside, not bothering to look at anyone as they gasped and whispered at the sight of his face. He walked into the nurse’s office and tried not to look too annoyed at her gasp and her exclamation of “what on earth happened to you?!”

“I fell,” Will said simply. The nurse went quick to work, giving him a wet cloth to clean up with, putting bandages on his cuts, and making sure nothing was seriously wrong.

She handed him an ice pack before gesturing over to a cot, hidden away behind a curtain. “Why don't you go lie down while I get you some pain medication from the office?” She looked down at his blood stained shirt and said, “I hope your mother will be able to get that out.” Will simply nodded, not wanting to correct her, and walked over to the cot, sitting down on it and leaning back against the wall as he tried to will the painful throbbing to stop. He heard the nurse get up and leave and soon after he heard muffled voices from the other side of the curtain.

“Honestly, Sherlock. It's the first day and you're already getting into fights,” one voice said. He had an obvious British accent that tipped Will off that they were clearly some of the transfer students.

“It wasn't a fight, Mycroft. He hit me, I didn't hit back,” an annoyed voice answered.

“Ah, becoming a pacifist are we,” the first voice snidely responded.

“No. He just had dental surgery done, I didn't want to permanently break something and be stuck with a bill.”

“It wasn't dental surgery, he'd just gotten his tonsils removed. Did you hear how wretched his voice was?”

“Well, we’ll have to ask the student listening in to tell us won't we,” the second, deeper voice said mockingly.

Will felt his heart jump and he whipped around when the curtain was yanked to the side, revealing two upperclassmen. One sat on the edge of the cot, holding an ice pack to his cheek. He had hair not unlike Will’s; dark and curly and definitely unruly, and he was surprisingly pale and skinny. The other stood to his left, looking down on Will with a forced smile. He had lighter brown hair that was meticulously styled and was both tanner and chubbier than the first boy. Both were obviously brothers, and both were dressed far nicer than what was necessary, in clothes Will knew he'd never be able to afford.

“Well,” the boy who was standing asked. He was the first voice. “Care to weigh in?”

Will looked between them for a moment and just when the dark haired boy, Sherlock, rolled his eyes in annoyance, Will asked, “you got in a fight with Matthew Brown, right?”

“Correct,” Sherlock responded hesitantly.

“Yeah, it was dental. He just got his wisdom teeth removed.” Sherlock looked up to give his brother a smug smile before dramatically falling back and stretching out on the cot, his upper back and head leaned against the wall.

“What about his voice,” the older boy, whom Will assumed was Mycroft, asked.

“He's on the debt team, he's always yelling so his voice is always like that,” Will explained. Mycroft stood up a bit straighter, obviously upset that he was wrong.

“And are you friends with Mr. Brown,” Mycroft asked, feigning politeness.

“Friends with Matthew? God no. He's tried to stab me with a pencil in third grade. I still have a scar,” Will said, pulling his neckline down to show the small, but nonetheless, ugly scar on his shoulder. He watched as Mycroft looked at the scar with a slight cringe and glanced over at Sherlock who was ignoring them in favor of staring up at the ceiling, lost in thought.

“Then how'd you know about his surgery?”

“Well I saw him rubbing at his jaw yesterday at the grocery store. He was clearly in some slight pain. And last Friday he left our second period class, but he didn't return all day, so it was obviously for a long appointment that would have kept him out of class for the rest of the day,” Will explained.

As he did, he saw Sherlock’s interest slowly begin to peak as he sat up in his spot and turn to sit back on the edge of the cot. Him and Mycroft looked to each other, clearly surprised at what Will was saying. The two stared at him for a long moment, making Will shift in discomfort.

The tension was finally broken when Sherlock asked, “what's your name?”

“Will Graham. And you are?”

“Mycroft and Sherlock Holmes. From London,” Mycroft
answered cockily.

“Obviously,” Will muttered, annoyed. Sherlock chuckled, but Mycroft’s smirk fell into a frown.

“Cold water for blood,” Mycroft said coldly as he started to walk past Will and towards the door. “Wouldn't want that to stain.” Will watched as he walked out into the hall, his back straight as an arrow. Sherlock’s voice brought him back to the room.

“That was impressive.”

“What was,” Will asked.

“Usually people are too intimidated by Mycroft to make fun of him,” Sherlock answered with a smile.

“Well, I don't really get intimidated anymore.” Sherlock's smile fell.

“Someone push you?”

“Yeah, how'd you know?”

“The angle of the blood, and the lack of bruising on your knuckles indicates it wasn't a fight,” Sherlock explained dryly. Will was left speechless, obviously impressed. Sherlock ignored this and instead said, “they do something like this often.”

“Yeah. They fuck with me everyday,” Will said tiredly and he looked down at the blood soaking into his shirt.

“That's healthy,” Sherlock said sarcastically.

“For me or them,” Will asked as he looked back up at him.

“Both.” The two broke out into laughter until the nurse came in, a bottle of pills in hand.

“Well it's good to see you two laughing,” she said as she poured two pills out and handed them to Will with a cup of water. Will took the pills and nodded a thanks to her before he stood up off the cot. He turned to glance down at Sherlock who was looking him over, as if he was analyzing him. It made Will shift in discomfort again.

“I'll see you around, Sherlock.”

Sherlock's gaze snapped up to make eye contact with Will as he said with an almost sincere smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. “See you later, Will.” Will gave him a confused smile before turning and walking out of the cramped room. As he went, he couldn't shake the feeling of Sherlock's gaze cutting into his back as the older student watched him leave.

***

Will sat in his second period class, reading away about Dante and his Inferno. The class was silent as the students read and the teacher, Mr. Fuller, tapped away at his laptop. The class all looked over as the door opened, breaking the silence. A sweet looking girl walked in, wrapped up in a cardigan with her hair tied up in a ponytail.

“Can I help you,” Mr. Fuller asked.

“Um, I'm Molly Hooper. I'm a transfer student. They got my schedule mixed up a bit,” the girl, Molly, answered, ending her sentence with a nervous giggle.

“Well, take a seat wherever you'd like Ms. Hooper and I'll be right over to catch you up.” Molly nodded before looking around the room for an empty seat. She noticed the one in front of Will’s desk and started to walk over, glancing up at him with a shy smile as she did. He offered a small smile in return before going back to his book.

He tried to drown out Mr. Fuller filling her in on what they'd read of the book so far before leaving her to catch up. Will couldn't help himself but to look up at her, trying to see what he could learn from the back of her head. He could tell by her posture that she had an older sibling, probably a brother, and the number of science and medical related books tucked in her bag indicated that she was obviously into going into one of those fields. ‘Probably medicine,’ Will thought. ‘Judging by the calluses on her fingers.’

Just then the bell rang and all the students rushed to gather their things and head out the door. “Finish those chapters for tomorrow,” Mr. Fuller reminded as Will stood up from his chair and moved to follow the cluster of people trying to shove through the door.

As he walked he heard a timid “excuse me,” from behind him. He turned and saw Molly walking up to him, a polite smile on her face. “Sorry, I was just wondering if you could tell me where the cafeteria was?”

“Uh, sure. I was actually heading there now if you just wanna walk with me.”

“That'd be great.” The two walked outside the classroom and headed down the hall. “I'm Molly by the way.”

“Will,” Will greeted, holding out his hand instinctively. As soon as he realized it he moved to drop it, but to his surprise she took and with a grin.

“I don't think I've ever met a secondary student who shook hands with people who aren't adults,” she said with a laugh.

“Force of habit,” Will muttered as he shoved his hands deep into his sweatshirt pockets.

“I guess Sherlock does it a lot too though,” she said absentmindedly.

“You know Sherlock?”

“Yeah, he's one of my best friends.”

‘He didn't really strike me as someone who has “best friends,’ Will thought.

“Have you two met,” Molly asked. Before Will could answer he saw Francis and his psychotic friends start to move towards them, their faces all in deep scowls. He looked back to Molly who was still waiting for an answer.

“Um,” Will started, not knowing exactly how to tell this person who hardly knew him that they needed to leave before a gang of upperclassmen caught them, but before he could say that, or a version of that, a very loud, what Will thought was a senior (based on his posture), popped up out of nowhere and wrapped his arms around Molly.

“Molly! I have been looking for you everywhere,” the stranger said in an Irish accent. Will looked over and saw that Francis and his annoying sidekicks had stopped in their tracks and were watching with confused looks on their faces.

“Oh,” Molly giggled nervously. “Why's that?”

“Well I didn't want you eating lunch alone,” he explained. Will looked back at the two as he did, the boy turned to Will and looked him up and down, as if he was looking for something. “Doesn't look like you're alone now though,” he said in a bored tone.

“Oh. Jim, this is Will. Will, this is Jim. He's from my school back in London,” Molly introduced.

“Hi,” Will said, feeling on edge.

“You're a peculiar one, aren't you?” Will took a step back as Jim moved in closer. He loomed over Will as if he wanted to take up all the space surrounding him and force him to only pay attention to him. And it worked for a long second until Molly grabbed him by the arm and pulled him back.

“Jim, stop.” She looked back to Will. “Sorry, he's a lot like Sherlock. He can read people like a book but he has no sense of polite courtesy.”

“It's okay,” Will muttered as he looked Jim over. Molly was right about how he could read people, but it wasn't like how Sherlock did it. Sherlock did it to impress others, Jim did it to put people on edge. And it did.

“You're a sophomore,” Jim said bluntly.

“You're a senior.” Jim giggled manically in a way that seemed very off.

“Yes I am.” He held Will’s eyes for a moment until Will looked past him to see Francis and the rest of the group walk away, having lost their interest. “What're you looking at,” Jim asked. Will looked back at him.

“Nothing,” Will lied. Jim stared into his eyes in a way that somehow told him he knew exactly what Will had been looking at and why. It made Will shrink up on himself slightly, not liking to be so easily read.

After seeing Will uncomfortable for a beat, Jim turned to Molly and cheerfully said, “well, let's head to lunch, yes? Seb’s already saved our seats.”

“O-okay,” Molly stuttered. She looked to Will with a small smile. “I'll see you later.”

“Bye,” Will said with his own nervous smile. He watched as the two walked away and he couldn't control the shiver that raced down his spine as Jim looked back at him with an icy, dead eyed glare. Will continued watching until the Jim turned back around and put his attention back on whatever Molly was talking about.

Will nearly jumped when he heard a voice say his name loudly from behind him. He turned around and watched as Alana walked up to him, Sherlock and some other junior following behind her.

“Will, hey,” Alana said cheerfully.

“Hey, Alana. What're you doing here,” Will asked as the three stopped in front of him.

“I had to ask Mr. Doyle something, but I met these two.” Alana turned and gestured to the two behind her. Sherlock looked bored, but the other kid looked like he was genuinely happy to be there, which put Will off slightly. “This is Sherlock and John. Guys this is Will.”

“We’ve met,” Sherlock said rudely.

“Stop,” John said to him with a glare before he looked back to Will, his smile returned. “Nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you too.”

“I told them they could sit with us if that's okay,” Alana said.

“No, that's fi-” Will was cut off by Sherlock stepping closer, his eyes looking Will up and down repeatedly as if he'd seen something on him. The others went silent as Sherlock stopped only a few inches from Will. Will was feeling agitated after so many people had gotten in his space, so he asked in a harsher tone than intended, “what, Sherlock?”

“You've met Jim Moriarty,” Sherlock said bluntly in a tone that sounded almost nervous. Will felt his agitation and annoyance melt away into curiosity and concern.

“Uh, yeah. Just now.”

“Stay away from him. He's not-” Sherlock cut himself off, clearly not knowing how to convey what he wanted to say. “He-”

“He's not a good person,” John finished for him.

“Who is he,” Alana asked.

“Someone from London,” Will answered, not taking his eyes off Sherlock's.

He gave him a look that told him he understood and the two looked at each other in solidarity until Sherlock straightened up and, in a completely different tone, said “lunch then?” The three watched as he walked past Will and towards the cafeteria before they shrugged to each other and followed behind.

As Will walked he couldn't shake the feeling of anxiety and unease that started to fill up in his stomach. All he could think about was the sense of dread that started to wash over him. ‘Something bad is coming,’ Will thought as the four walked down the hall.

Chapter Text

It had only been three weeks since the British exchange students started at the school, but Will had already gotten to know some of them pretty well.

He knew now that Sherlock and John were actually dating and had been for some time, and though they seemed like polar opposites, Will could tell that they were actually pretty good for each other. Where Sherlock was cold and cynical and rude, John was there to cover for him with his constant positive attitude and protectiveness.

Will had also learned that John was adopted. Though John had never said anything about it the past few weeks, Will could tell by how he rarely talked about his home life or his family. Will had also learned that Sherlock was able to read others just as well as Will could, and though the two had begun to bond over their similarities, Will couldn't shake the uneasiness of knowing that Sherlock was analyzing him just as much as he was Sherlock.

Will had also picked up that Mycroft had the same talent, but chose not to be as vocal about it as Sherlock was. Will didn't know what he preferred more; Sherlock saying rather loudly during lunch that Will had had a night terror the night before, or knowing that Mycroft knew exactly what the night terror was about, though he'd never say.

As anxious as it made him, it was nothing compared to how Jim, or as John and Sherlock simply called him, “Moriarty”, looked at him. Will knew he too could tell someone's life story just by looking at them, but with Moriarty it was different. He could tell what someone's relationship to their father was by how they styled their hair, but it was as if he could also tell how their father thought of them, even if he'd have no way of knowing.

Will often caught him staring at the table he, Alana, Abigail, John, and Sherlock shared, and though he more often than not was staring at Sherlock, Will had caught him looking directly at him quite a few times. His unwavering gaze reminded Will too much of Garrett’s and it always made him squirm in his seat, try as hard as he might not to. Moriarty would always laugh loudly after seeing it and whisper something to Sebastian Moran, who seemed to always be at his side.

Will had never heard Sebastian speak, but he didn't need to to know that he was not someone to fuck with. His body was littered with scars, some old, some new, and he had a steely aura about him that seemed to chill the air around him. Will wasn't able to read a lot off of him, except that he'd disappointed his family in some way, though Will didn't know how, and he was very loyal to Moriarty, though Will didn't know why.

The two sat at a table on the edge of the cafeteria along with Molly, whom Will had spent a lot of time talking to in Humanities, and two other girls named Mary Morstan and Irene Adler.

Irene dressed in outrageously expensive clothes and she always acted like she was the smartest one in the room. And though Will was sure she most likely often was, he could tell that it caused some tension between her and Moriarty. She openly flirted with everyone, including teachers, and though Will could tell she was actually gay, she did it with such confidence and suave, it almost made Will doubt himself.

Mary seemed a lot like Molly, they both looked kind and sweet, and neither looked like they would hang out with the other three, but they ate lunch with them everyday anyway. John had said he and Sherlock had a class with her and he spoke very highly of her. Though Sherlock did little to hide his jealousy, he couldn't help but to say some surprisingly kind things about her too, which threw Will, Alana, and Abigail for a loop after they'd grown accustomed to him constantly insulting people.

Moriarty’s table was right next to the table Mycroft and his group had established themselves. It was Mycroft, a senior named Greg Lestrade, and two juniors named Sally Donovan and Philip Anderson.

Will had only spoken to Greg a handful of times, but he liked him enough. Will could tell by his posture that he and his girlfriend had recently broken up on account of her cheating on him, but he still managed to have a good attitude, not unlike John. He seemed to be pretty protective of Sherlock, which caused Mycroft to automatically like him, and the two were constantly defending him against Sally and Philip (or “Anderson” as he insisted on being called), who seemed to follow Greg everywhere. Though Will was sure Sherlock was thankful for this, he could never seem to remember Greg’s first name, and instead called him by his last name, which annoyed Greg to no end.

“Lestrade said there's a new student,” Sherlock said absentmindedly as he scrolled through his phone.

“Oh yeah? Who is it,” Alana asked.

“No clue. Apparently, he's European,” Sherlock said in a mock enthusiastic voice.

“What's he doing in Louisiana,” Abigail asked as she looked up from her homework. Sherlock sighed as if she'd just said something incredibly stupid. It made Abigail reasonably offended and John reasonably annoyed.

“As I already said, I have no clue, Abigail,” Sherlock said as if he were talking to a child.

“Sherlock, stop it,” John said as Abigail went angrily back to doing her homework.

“I heard Chiyo talking about him. She said his name was something weird. Something with an ‘H’ I think,” Alana said.

“His name is Hannibal,” Margot said as she sat down in the unoccupied seat next to Will. The five turned to look at her, all confused as to what she was doing.

“Um, hello Margot,” Will said as he eyed her as she simply sat with her hands in her lap, staring ahead at Alana who looked somehow both flattered and annoyed.

“Hannibal Lecter,” Margot continued, ignoring Will completely. “I have biology with him. He's odd.”

“Odd how,” Alana asked as she held Margot’s eyes.

“Odd like you. Maybe more like Graham,” Margot finally turned to look at Will. She smirked at him as he sent her a glare. “You'd love him.” The two stared at each other for a beat as everyone else looked between the two of them, save for Sherlock who'd gone back to looking at his phone. They stared at each other for a few short seconds, though it seemed longer, until the lunch bell rang.

As the people around them began to get up to leave, the five stayed seated as they watched Margot stand up slowly and get lost in the crowd.

They continued to sit silently as people rushed by, trying to wrap their heads around Margot’s off putting behavior.

“What was that,” John asked.

“That was Margot Verger,” Will explained with a sigh as he started to gather up his things. “She tends to act like that.”

“No I get that, I have English with her, but what was with the staring?”

“Oh, she tries to intimidate me a lot, not sure why,” Will answered.

“Okay yeah, that was weird, but I was referring to how she was staring at Alana,” John said. “It's like there was...tension behind it.” Will and Abigail turned to Alana with wide grins spread across their faces. John and Sherlock looked between the three of them, more confused than ever.

“Uh, what's going on? Do they do that often,” Sherlock asked.

“Yes,” Abigail practically shouted.

“Every time they see each other,” Will explained.

“You two are ridiculous,” Alana groaned out with a roll of her eyes as she stood up from her chair and grabbed her things before she walked off with a huff. Will and Abigail tried to stifle their laughter as they too got up and left, leaving Sherlock and John alone at the table, still confused.

“Americans are weird,” John said.

“Yes they are,” Sherlock agreed.

 

***

 

The final bell had just rang and Will was ducking out the back door to avoid another run in with Francis and friends. He walked down towards the back parking lot so he could cut through the park that lined the south edge of the school, dodging people and cutting between cars as he went.

Just as he was about to walk onto the path that led into the park, a voice stopped him in his tracks.

“Excuse me,” the accented voice said from behind him. Will turned to see a senior standing on the other side of the car to Will’s left. ‘He's very wealthy, probably a trust fund kid,’ Will thought as he looked at the boy’s clothes.

“Yes,” Will asked.

“Are you Will Graham?”

“Uh, yes,” Will answered confused.

“Sorry, I didn't mean to alarm you. I was talking to Margot Verger and she brought you up,” the stranger said as he took a few steps closer. He leaned forward and rested his hands on the car’s hood between them. ‘He draws,’ Will thought to himself when he saw the callus on his middle finger.

“You must be Hannibal then,” Will said as he looked back up to his eyes.

“So she mentioned me too,” this kid, Hannibal, said with a grin.

“Yeah, at lunch. She said you were odd.”

“Odd how?”

“Odd like me.” Will was surprised by Hannibal laughing at the statement, though Will had put no effort into being funny like he usually did when he actually tried to make someone laugh. It made Will uncomfortable that he didn't need to try so hard with this person he didn't know. The only other person he was like that with was Alana, and that had taken years.

“Yes, she said she thought we'd get along. She's rather off isn't she,” Hannibal said as his laughter died down.

“Yeah, that's a good word to describe it.”

The two stood there for a long while, Hannibal staring at Will with a grin he couldn't quite place, and Will looking everywhere but Hannibal.

He didn't look back at him until he asked, “do you need a ride, Will?”

“Um, no. I'll walk.”

Hannibal stood up straight and walked towards the driver’s door of the car between them as he said, “well if you ever need a ride just ask,” in his heavy, what Will thought was Lithuanian, accent. Not knowing what to say, Will simply nodded.

He took a step back as Hannibal jumped into the car, that was obviously very expensive now that Will was actually looking at it, and the two held a very tension filled stare as Hannibal waited for a car to pass behind him. Will continued to stare as Hannibal looked back to back out, and kept looking even as Hannibal drove away.

Even after he'd left, Will stood in the empty parking spot for a long moment, thinking about how weird that interaction had just been. He played it over and over again in his mind, thinking back to all the awkward things he'd done that he was now regretting, and Will was surprised to feel a different kind of anxiety stir around in his stomach.

Instead of the normal anxiety he usually felt when he'd just embarrassed himself, he instead felt that rare queasiness he'd only ever felt one other time, when he first met Alana.

He quickly realized what it was and instantly felt his face pale at the realization.

“Shit,” Will said out loud to no one.

Chapter Text

Will sat on his couch, killing time channel surfing as he waited for the pizza he'd put in the oven to finish baking. The sun had already set, casting the home in darkness, the only light coming from the TV in front of him. He sighed and dropped the remote, giving up on trying to find anything good, and settling on a nature documentary.

Will felt his mind wander back to the interaction he'd had that afternoon and he felt the familiar feeling of anxiety that comes with every crush start to settle in his chest. He'd replayed the encounter over and over again in his mind since it'd happened. He couldn't get the memory of those auburn eyes out of his head no matter how hard he tried and even now, just thinking of them made his cheeks start to blush and his heart beat almost violently in his chest. He'd never felt this way about anyone before, not even Alana. What he'd felt for her in those first months of knowing her were somewhat like this, but even how he felt for her now didn't compare.

Will cursed himself for feeling so emotional about someone he'd spoken to once, but his mind went back to what Margot had said at lunch. “You'd love him.” ‘I think I do,’ Will thought pitifully.

The sudden thought caused him shoot up straight in his seat. He glared at himself as he thought to himself, ‘no you fucking don't. It's just infatuation, it'll go away after a few months. That's what happened with Alana, you thought you loved her too.’ Will nodded, as if he'd just won an important argument, when right on cue his phone buzzed from beside him. He picked it up to see a text from Alana. “I'm outside,” it read. Will walked over to the front door and flicked on the light before he opened the door.

“I texted this time,” she said with a smile. Will returned it before inviting her in.

“What's up,” Will asked when she was inside.

“I wanted to talk about lunch.”

“You drive fifteen minutes at seven o'clock on a school night to talk about lunch,” Will asked.

“To be fair it is on my way home from the community college.”

“Yeah but those are on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. It's Thursday,” Will said with a knowing smirk. Alana stared at him silently for a moment, trying to think of an excuse, but coming up empty.

“Shut up,” she said with a laugh. Will laughed along until it died down and he saw she was actually upset about something.

“What's wrong?” Alana looked at the ground, waiting a moment before answering.

“So, you know how you guys are always joking about Margot’s and I’s lingering stares,” she asked, still not meeting his eyes.

“Yeah?”

“Well, you know how you guys always say there's tension between us and stuff like that?”

“Yeah,” Will asked, his heart thumping in anticipation for what he knew was coming.

“Well, I think you guys might be right. I think I have a crush on Margot,” Alana said in a defeated tone before she walked over and collapsed back onto the couch. Will followed her and sat beside her, a grin plastered on his face.

“This is great news! What're you upset about?”

“Because it's Margot,” Alana shouted, obviously frustrated.

“What about Margot,” Will asked, confused. “She's openly gay and you're openly bi, it wouldn't be a huge shock to anyone.”

“Yeah, but she's so weird. And her brother Mason is a total dick to you, so even if she liked me back I couldn't date her.”

“Yeah you could.” Alana turned to look at him, surprised.

“Will, he bullies you everyday. I've seen him hit you more than once,” she said in her protective mom voice. “There's no way I'd date someone related to a person who treated you like that.”

“I'm friends with Abigail and her brother picks on me everyday. I really don't care,” Will said sincerely.

“Really?”

“Yes, really.” The two shared a smile before they relaxed into the couch and stared ahead at the video of a lion ripping into a zebra.

They sat like that, in comfortable silence, for a long minute until Will said, out of the blue, “I think I have a crush on Hannibal.” Alana sat up and spun around to face him.

“The new kid,” she practically shouted.

“Yeah,” Will said bluntly.

“When did you even meet him?!”

“When I was walking through the back parking lot he offered me a ride,” Will explained.

“Did you flirt with him,” Alana asked excitedly as she leaned in closer, a smile starting to stretch across her face.

“No, I barely looked at him,” Will answered as he rubbed at his eyes tiredly. Alana seemed to deflate.

“Oh,” she said in an almost disappointed voice, the smile falling from her face.

“He kinda flirted with me though.”

Alana’s smile returned and she clutched onto Will’s arm tightly as she squealed, “Will, oh my god!” She let go when she saw he was uncomfortable and instead started waving her hands around excitedly as she asked, “are you gonna ask him out?! Are you going to give him your number?!”

“No no no. I'm not doing any of that,” Will interjected. Alana was back to looking disappointed.

“Why not?”

“Because I don't want to date anyone and I was totally awkward and weird so I'm sure I ruined it anyway.”

“Oh,” Alan said sadly. She leaned back into the couch. “You should see if he says anything else though, you never know. Maybe he likes cute, weird, awkward, sophomores,” she said, trying to be encouraging.

“Maybe,” Will said with a hint of a smile.

The two went back to staring at the TV in silence, watching as the lion continued to rip apart and eat the zebra, as the pizza baked in the oven.

 

***

 

At this same moment, only a few, short miles away, a far less relaxing scene was unfolding.

Outside of ‘Harvelle’s Roadhouse’, a bar on the far south side of town, the local biker gang known as the Archangels were cornering a wormy-looking man in the back alley.

“Just give us whatever's in your wallet and you can walk away injury free,” the leader of the gang, known as Lucifer, said in a cocky, sultry voice.

“P-p-please,” the man whimpered out as he tried to back away from the intimidating younger man. Sweat and snot ran down his face as he backed into the wall of the roadhouse. “I don't have anything, I swear,” he said. Lucifer simply smirked at him as he sauntered closer. The man tried to push himself as close to the wall as possible, as if it'd suck him in and he'd be safe from the leather clad threat surrounding him.

Just as Lucifer came to a stop in front of him, and the man felt himself truly start to panic, the back door of the bar swung open to reveal an annoyed, middle aged woman, who looked like she was about to lay down the law. “What the hell are you kids doing?”

Lucifer backed up from the man and with an innocent smile said, “we were just asking for the time.”

“They were mugging me,” the man cried out desperately. The woman gave Lucifer a disappointed look.

“We needed gas money,” Lucifer earnestly.

“You know Mr. Kripke has a gambling problem. He doesn't have two dollars to his name. You're just wanting to mess with him,” the woman scolded. “Leave him alone.” Lucifer raised his hands in defeat and stepped back from the man fully so he could rush past the irritated woman and inside.

“Have a good night, Ellen,” Lucifer joked. The woman gave him a stern look before going back inside and closing the door.

“Bitch,” a member named Azazel muttered, clearly annoyed.

“She's not a bitch, she just doesn't want us hurting anyone on her property,” Lucifer explained as he started to walk out of the alley, the seven following behind him.

“She ruined my fun,” a short blonde, named Lilith, complained.

“What're we going to do for gas,” a red headed woman beside her asked. Her bright red lipstick pulled into a frown.

“I'll steal something from my dad’s house. We can pawn it,” Lucifer said as they walked around the side of the building into the parking lot. They started to walk towards a cluster of motorcycles, parked right in front of the main entrance.

“What pawn shop is open,” Lilith asked in a stuck up, almost childlike voice.

“Ash’s is open 24/7,” a shorter, pouncier man named Crowley answered. They all started to get onto their respected bikes, some checking their phones as they waited for the rest to get ready.

“I don't like Ash, he's weird,” Lilith pouted.

“Deal with it,” the oldest member of the group bit out as he stared down at his phone. He was called Cain, though everyone was sure that wasn't his real name. He had the start of a beard and his long hair was tied back in a ponytail. “You're acting like a child,” he said, still not bothering to look up at her.

Meg, the final member of the gang, laughed loudly from behind him. Lilith sent her a glare that would've scared anyone else down to their core, but it just made Meg laugh harder. Lilith looked over to the red headed woman, Abaddon, and Azazel, both of them wearing the same angry look she was.

Lilith turned to Lucifer and started to say, “Luci-” before he cut her off.

“Shut up,” Lucifer said with a frown, before he started his engine. The rest followed suite, though Lilith was last, sending him a glare of his own. She slowly followed behind the rest of them as they all drove out of the parking lot and onto the street light lit road that led into town.

 

***

 

It was several hours later and the road house was emptying out, its patrons stumbling out the door and into the cold night.

Kripke was the last to come out. He tripped his way over to the wall and leaned against it as he struggled to walk to the road. Though his eyesight was slanted and altered, he could see his apartment building just down the street. He took a deep breath and tried to steady himself enough to walk towards it. He made it just to the corner of the bar before three dark figures stepped out in front of him. He jerked back, almost falling over his own feet.

“Wow wow wow,” a dark voice chuckled. “Don't wanna fall. You'll ruin your twenty dollar suit.” Kripke gave the shadow a confused look, not being able to tell who was speaking. He shuffled backwards, leaning heavily on the building. The three kept a slow pursuit of him until the four were under the light shining from the sign of the roadhouse. Kripke felt his heart jump in his throat as he realized who exactly it was that was standing in front of him.

Azazel, Abaddon, and Lilith all stood in front of him, their backs covered in leather, and their faces all pulled into sinister smirks.

“Ellen told you all to leave me alone,” Kripke choked out.

“No, she told Lucifer to leave you alone, and because he's weak, he listened,” Lilith said as she stepped up closer to him. Though she was much shorter and smaller than the man, he still cowered in fear as she came to a stop directly in front of him. Abaddon and Azazel came to stand on either side of her, blocking off any exit Kripke might've had. He looked between the three of them, trying to think of a way to get out of whatever plan they had for him.

“Please just let me go home. You know I don't have anything worth hurting me over,” he begged. He watched in overwhelming fear as the three simply glared at him, they expressions annoyed but otherwise emotionless. He felt his heart start to thump harder and harder in his throat as sunk down lower against the wall. But suddenly a smile was lighting up Lilith’s face.

“Oh, we aren't gonna hurt you, Eric. We just wanna make sure you get home okay,” she said in an off putting, cheerful voice.

“What,” Kripke asked confused.

“Let's get you home,” Azazel said before he leaned down and grabbed Kripke by the arm and helped him to stand up. Abaddon went and grabbed his other arm as the three started to guide him towards the street. Though it may have looked like a kind, friendly act, the clutch they had on him was far too tight to be considered anything but threatening.

“It's okay, really, I can get there on my own,” Kripke tried to protest.

“It's okay, don't worry about it,” Abaddon said before the two started to drag him down the dark, lifeless street. Kripke felt himself get more and more anxious as they neared his apartment building. ‘When we get close enough I can just run for it,’ he thought as his eyes darted towards the front door. His thoughts were cut short by the two yanking him into the alley beside his apartment building, stopping any hope of escaping.

They threw him onto the ground with a hard thud. He tried to sit up but was stopped with a sharp kick from Abaddon.

“Shit,” Kripke cried out in pain. He looked up at their matching, steeled expressions. “Why?! I haven't done anything to you!”

“Shut the fuck up,” Lilith hissed out at him. Kripke snapped his mouth shut. “We didn't want to mug you, we wanted to hurt you. But because Lucifer’s a complete pussy, we weren't able to.” Kripke watched as the sneer on her face stretched into a dark smile. “But Lucifer's not here, is he?”

Before he could even get in another breath, Abaddon was kicking him again, but this time she didn't stop. The three began to kick and stomp into and onto Kripke as he cried out in pain and tried to curl in on himself.

As this violent scene developed; just across the street in a fifth story apartment, the newest senior of the local high school looked down from the window and watched as the three bikers kicked the man into a bloody, blubbering mess. He watched in amusement as he listened to the harsh thuds and sobbing coming from the display below him.

With little to no emotion, the student lit a cigarette and placed it in his mouth before he leaned down on the windowsill, his mind wandering to the thought of it being him down there, beating that man senseless. He felt himself smile at the idea as he blew out a puff of smoke.

Chapter Text

Hannibal Lecter walked down the busy school hallway, trying to hide his amusement as he watched the other students step out of his way and whisper to each other as they watched him pass. He walked slowly but surely into the cafeteria and made his way to the line for breakfast.

He busied himself with his phone as the line slowly moved along, and he purposefully ignored the sound of people cutting into the line behind him, along with the sound of someone complaining but being cut off suddenly by what Hannibal could only assume was a pointed glare.

“Thank you, Sebastian,” a cheeky, Irish accent said from behind him. Hannibal felt the speaker’s stare on his back, but he refused to give him the satisfaction of giving him the attention. “Helloooo,” he said dramatically. Hannibal heard the Irishman sigh when he continued to ignore him and he felt annoyance start to prickle at the back of his neck as the line started to move forward and they moved closer to the buffet. “I know he can hear me,” the voice seemed to say to the others in his group.

“Leave him alone, he clearly doesn't want to talk,” a dark, but somehow soothing, British voice said. It belonged to a woman. ‘A woman wearing coco mademoiselle perfume,’ Hannibal thought as he sniffed at the air.

“Well he should want to talk to me,” the annoyed voice said once again.

Hannibal continued to ignore the three as they bickered amongst themselves until he finally reached the buffet where a variety of breakfast foods were laid out. He put his phone in his pocket and picked up a tray before he look through the food.

Unfortunately this gave the owner of the persistent voice a way to get up close to Hannibal as he struggled to continue to ignore him.

“So,” the voice, belonging to one Jim Moriarty, started. “You're Hannibal Lecter, the new kid from across the pond. I am too, I'm one of the foreign exchange students.” Moriarty waited for Hannibal to say something, or at least spare him a glance, but once he didn't, Moriarty’s patience wore thin. “Let's just cut to the chase then, shall we?” The change in Moriarty’s tone caused Hannibal to hesitate in his movements for a brief moment, and though most wouldn't have noticed it, Moriarty did; and it caused a sharp grin to spread across his face. “You're odd. Like me,” he continued. “I can tell. You're not boring like everyone else here.”

Hannibal chose to continue to ignore him, though what he was saying was definitely peaking his interest, as he moved through the line and to the cart where a lunch lady was swiping kids’ cards or taking their money. Hannibal took out his wallet and handed her a five dollar bill before he began to walk off. Moriarty grew angrier and handed Sebastian his nearly empty tray before following after him. “You're being very rude,” he said in an exaggerated tone. This caused Hannibal to stop in his tracks and turn around slowly to face him, his expression mostly blank with a hint of irritation.

“I apologize if you believe I've been rude to you, but I'm afraid you're the one who is following me around and talking to me, though I've indicated that I want to be left alone,” Hannibal said as Moriarty stared in surprise. Sebastian and Irene came up to stand behind him, both looking just as surprised, but with their own mixtures of uneasiness.

Moriarty’s expression turned from one of shock, into one of excitement. “You're a psychopath aren't you? A pure psychopath.”

“Goodbye,” Hannibal said sternly before he turned back around and walked to an empty table, leaving the three to stand and watch as he began to eat the cheap cafeteria food.

He was only left alone for a short few minutes before Frederick Chilton walked up to him, looking as sure of himself as ever. He stopped on the opposite side of the table from Hannibal, directly in front of him so he'd be forced to look at him.

Hannibal did so, though instead of greeting him, he opted for continuing to eat his food and give Frederick a bored glare.

“Saw that Irish guy Jim talking to ya. What'd he want?”

Hannibal chose not to respond.

“I'm Frederick Chilton by the way. We have psychology together third period.”

“You got in an argument with the teacher about the differences between deviance and rebellion,” Hannibal said, not sounding pleased to have remembered that altercation.

“Yes, that was me,” Frederick said, sounding pleased with himself. “Anyway, me and my friends wanted to know if you'd like to have lunch with us today.”

“Though I appreciate the offer, I have to decline,” Hannibal said before he turned his attention back to his food.

“What,” Frederick asked, clearly not used to being said no to. “Who're you gonna eat with then? You don't know anybody.”

“On the contrary,” Hannibal said before he lifted his cold gaze back up to Frederick. “I'll be eating with Will Graham.” Hannibal gave him a knowing smirk as Frederick’s face grew red in anger.

“Why in the hell would you want to eat with trash like Will Graham?!” Hannibal let his face shift into a dark, promising glare. Frederick felt his heart jolt in his chest when he saw it, clearly startled.

“Please refrain from speaking so vulgarly about Will,” Hannibal growled out. Frederick stared at him for a beat, too scared to say anything, and instead stormed off, muttering under his breath. Hannibal watched him go before he started eating again, ignoring the several stares coming from the tables around him.

 

***

 

Will and John stood in the crowded hallway, chatting about the chemistry quiz they had coming up, when Will was suddenly shoved into the wall of lockers. John reached out to help him before turning to the assaulter.

“What in God’s name are you doing?!”

“Shut it, Watson,” Frederick bit out. “Will and I need to talk.”

“About what,” Will groaned as he rubbed on his head where it would doubtlessly bruise.

“How the fuck do you know Hannibal?” Will gave him a surprised look as he felt his pulse start to pick up at the mention of his crush’s name.

“I-I don't know Hannibal. We've only spoken once,” Will stated nervously.

“Well he seems very taken with you. He said he was eating lunch with you and then when I asked him why he'd waste his time with dirt like you-”

“Watch it,” John threatened as he took a step closer towards Frederick, getting between him and Will. Frederick eyed him before looking back to Will who was still utterly confused.

“He humiliated me in front of everyone in the cafeteria.”

“You get used to it,” Will said sarcastically, giving Frederick a deep glare. Fredrick returned the glare before he shoved past John and huffed off down the hall. The two watched him go before John turned back to Will, concern written all over his features.

“Are you alright?”

“I'm fine.”

“What was that about? I thought you didn't know Hannibal,” John said confused.

“I don't. Not really,” Will answered nervously. “I ran into him yesterday after school and he offered me a ride.”

“Well why does he like you so much?” Will scrambled, trying to think of something to say as he struggled to keep a blush from spreading across his face. He was saved, however, by Sherlock walking over.

“Good morning,” he greeted, nicer than usual. He looked between the two of them and his demeanor shifted. “What happened? Chilton,” Sherlock asked as he looked Will over.

“Yes, he made it his duty to make an ass out of himself,” John answered.

“Hm,” Sherlock said in understanding, still looking Will over as if he saw something different about him and was trying to figure out what.

Desperate to get the piercing attention off of him, Will said with a forced grin, “I think John put him in his place though.” He watched as Sherlock looked down at John with a smile he seemed to reserve just for John.

“I wouldn't expect anything less.” John smiled back up at him before gesturing back to Will, his smile fallen.

“I wish I could get him to stop picking on you though. It's bloody ridiculous,” he said irritated.

“It's really fine,” Will tried to shrug off.

“It's not,” John said sternly. “If him or his friends try and give you trouble again, text me. I'll be right over.” Will gave him a grateful smile to which John returned.

“I have something that'll cheer you both up,” Sherlock said, ruining the mood.

“What's that,” Will asked, a little uncomfortable with Sherlock's new cheering demeanor.

“There was a mugging last night, a very violent one, on the south side of town,” Sherlock explained with a stretched grin.

“How is that good news,” Will asked confused.

“Yeah, is that why you're in such a good mood? Jesus,” John groaned, annoyed.

“It's a case, John,” Sherlock shouted cheerfully. Will watched as John hid his face in his hands, embarrassed.

“What is he talking about,” Will asked, still confused.

“Back in London Sherlock would follow different ongoing cases to see if he could solve them before the police. He usually dragged me along,” John explained, suddenly looking very tired.

“Oh. Well how would that cheer me up,” Will questioned.

“Because you'd be perfect for it,” Sherlock said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “You have the natural ability to read people, you're intelligent, and you're fascinated with true crime.”

“So you want me to help you figure out who mugged some guy?”

“Yes,” Sherlock said enthusiastically.

“Well it's obvious who it was.”

Sherlock deflated and asked in his usual annoyed tone, “what?”

“Well the only people who do muggings, or at least violent ones, are the Archangels. They're a biker gang who stakes out the south side. I can't believe you haven't heard of them,” Will explained.

“I've heard people talking about them but I thought they were some urban legend. I mean who calls their biker gang ‘the Archangels’,” Sherlock complained.

“I can't believe you've never heard of the Archangels,” a nasally voice said. Will turned and saw Anderson and Sally walk past, both sneering at Sherlock.

“Because no one talks to him, he's a freak,” Sally said over her shoulder. The three glared at them as they walked off.

“When they get back to London and Anderson’s girlfriend finds out they've been sleeping together, she's going to kick both their asses,” Will said, trying to lighten the tension. John and Sherlock chuckled, nodding in agreement. And the three headed down the hall just as the bell began to ring.

 

***

 

Will was just walking into the lunch room, having barely avoided Francis and the others, and he was still on edge, knowing they weren't above hunting him down. That's why he practically jumped when someone walked up to him. He whipped his head around to see Hannibal smiling down at him.

“Hello, Will,” he greeted.

“Hi H-Hannibal,” Will stuttered. Hannibal’s smile grew.

“Would you mind if I joined you and your friends for lunch?”

“Um. I guess that'd be okay.”

“Wonderful. Thank you.” Hannibal followed Will to the table as Will wrung his hands together, not knowing what to say. They reached the table just as the others were coming back with their food.

“Who's this,” Abigail asked.

“This is Hannibal, I told him he could eat with us,” Will explained as he took his seat.

“Hello, Hannibal,” Alana said with a polite smile as she sat down.

“Alana, nice to see you again,” Hannibal answered before he sat down next to Will.

“You two know each other,” John asked. Will looked over to him as he spoke, but his eye was caught by the look Sherlock was giving Hannibal. He was staring at him with his patented cold, calculating expression, but it was harsher than usual. More complicated.

“He sits by me in my last class,” Alana explained. Will ignored her as he continued to look at Sherlock, whose gaze was only darkening.

“Sherlock, you okay,” Will finally asked. Sherlock broke his gaze to look at him.

“Fine,” he said bluntly.

“He's probably just upset that that mugging case wasn't as complicated as he would've liked,” John said.

“Are you talking about the mugging outside of the Roadhouse,” Hannibal asked.

“Yeah, have you heard about it,” Will asked.

“I live just across the street from where it happened.”

“Did you hear anything,” Sherlock asked in an almost accusatory tone. The others didn't catch it.

“Not a thing.” The others also didn't catch the knowing, almost smug look, Hannibal gave Sherlock in return.

The two held each other's eyes for a beat until Abigail asked, “Will, don't you live kinda by the Roadhouse?”

“Uh, yeah.”

“Really,” Hannibal asked him. Will only nodded in reply. “I'll definitely have to drive you home sometime then.” Will ducked his head, trying to hide his blush. None of the others noticed as they moved onto a new topic, but Sherlock saw how Will was trying to hide his obvious crush, and he felt a rare twinge of worry sting in his chest.

Chapter Text

By the time school was over, it had began to rain outside. The rain was especially cold and harsh this time of year, and it shook Will to the bone as he walked outside. He began to cut through the parking lot when he heard a car come to a stop behind him. He turned around to see who had stopped just as the tinted window rolled down to show Hannibal, sitting behind the wheel, and smiling.

“Going my way?”

“Huh,” Will asked, confused. Hannibal chuckled.

“Do you need a ride?”

“Uh, I-I’m fine,” Will managed, his heart beating away in his chest.

“It's pouring and you're only wearing a sweatshirt. You're shivering.” Will looked down and saw that he was indeed shivering pitifully.

He looked back up at Hannibal and said, “um, okay. I guess that'd be fine.” The smile on Hannibal’s face grew brighter as he unlocked the doors.

“Please, get in.” Will opened the door and got inside, settling back on the seat and buckling up as Hannibal began to drive again.

“Thanks for the ride,” Will said anxiously.

“It's no problem. Anytime,” Hannibal said as they stopped behind a line of cars, waiting to pull out of the parking lot. Will looked out the window and saw Freddie and Frederick shouting at each other as they walked up to Frederick’s car, both of them clutching onto their umbrellas almost violently. Will couldn't make out what they were saying, but he could tell by Frederick's shirt that he'd been caught kissing Miriam Lass in the janitor’s closet again.

Will’s breath caught when Freddie saw him out of the corner of her eye. She turned to glare at him, and when Frederick saw who she was staring at, he did the same. Will felt his face pale when they moved to walk towards him, but thankfully the line finally started moving and Hannibal and Will drove off and out of the parking lot before they could try and do anything.

“Do they do that often,” Hannibal asked, not looking away from the road.

“Does who do what often,” Will asked.

“Do Frederick and his friends pick on you often?” Will was silent for a long moment. Hannibal glanced at him before turning back to the road.

“They’ll say something at least twice a day, but they usually don't get violent,” Will said quietly, looking down at his backpack that lay between his feet.

“How often do they get violent,” Hannibal asked in a steady voice.

“A few times a week.”

“How many times is a few?”

“A few.” Hannibal glanced at him again.

“What has the school done,” Hannibal asked.

“Nothing. They're all mostly seniors and they'll be gone by next year so they don't think they should have to worry about it.”

“And your parents?”

“My dad doesn't know about it,” Will muttered.

“And your mother?” Will fixed Hannibal with a look that told him everything he needed to know, without having to say it. “Ah. Understood.” They drove in silence for a bit until Hannibal said, “Frederick spoke to me this morning.”

“I'm aware. He told me you embarrassed him in front of the entire cafeteria.”

“He called you trash. I simply corrected him.”

“Yeah, they do that a lot. They think they're original,” Will said as he gazed out the window. He missed the way Hannibal’s face fell into a dark, unreadable expression.

“Would you like me to talk to them? Perhaps I could get them to stop,” Hannibal suggested, trying to hide his emotions.

“Um, that's nice of you, but I think that will only make things worse.”

“Are you usually this pessimistic,” Hannibal asked, changing the subject.

“Are you usually this analyzing,” Will countered. The two laughed as Hannibal came to a stop at a stoplight. “Maybe you should take a psychology class at the community college. Alana does, and she likes it a lot.”

“Maybe I will. I plan to go into medicine however, but the human brain has always fascinated me.” Will nodded in understanding and Hannibal gave him a smile that filled Will’s gut up with a mixture of anxiety and a twinge of something else. Fear maybe? Will shrugged it off as Hannibal asked, “what do you plan to study after high school?”

“I doubt I'll go to college,” Will explained. “I'll probably just fix boat motors like my dad.”

“Never sell yourself short, Will. I'm sure you'll go on to do wonderful things.” The two stared at each other for a long moment. A sense of… something, filling the air, until the light turned green and Hannibal continued down the road towards the area where both he and Will lived. “Now, besides living in proximity to me, I have no idea where you live.”

“Oh, you can just drop me off at the Roadhouse. I can walk from there,” Will said, not wanting this obviously wealthy boy to see the trailer where he lived.

“I am not leaving you in the rain at an active crime scene. Please, just tell me where you live so I can be sure you get home safe.”

It took Will a moment to mutter out, “I live at the trailer park on Cherry.”

“I’m just two blocks away from Cherry,” Hannibal said reassuringly. “We’ll have to make this a regular occurrence.” Will turned away, trying to hide his blush, but he knew it wasn't any good.

“You don't have to be so nice to me you know,” Will said as they pulled up in front of his trailer.

“What do you mean?”

“Driving me home, sticking up for me to Frederick.”

“We are friends, Will. This is what friends do. Don't Alana and John and the others stick up for you,” Hannibal asked as he put the car in park and shifted to face him. Will sunk down, trying to hide himself from Hannibal's friendly, be it cold, eyes.

“Well, yes, but I've only spoken to you maybe five times,” Will countered.

“We’ll have to change that, won't we,” Hannibal said in a voice soaked in promise. Will looked up at him, his eyes wide, and they sat in that promise for a long moment as they heard the rain outside slow down to a stop. They continued to look to each other, the only sounds coming from Hannibal's wiper blades still moving against the windshield, and the blood pumping hard and heavy in Will’s ears as his blush continued to spread.

Will finally managed to clear his throat and say, “I'd better get inside.” Hannibal nodded with a knowing smirk.

“Have a good evening, Will,” Hannibal said as he watched Will get out.

“You too. Thanks again for the ride,” Will said, leaning down to peer inside.

“Of course.” Will closed the door and stepped back, watching Hannibal pull out and drive away just like he'd done when they first met. When the car was out of sight, Will turned around and walked into his trailer, dropping his bag on the ground as he did.

He wasn't inside for more then five minutes before a loud banging sounded at his door. Will went to the door, very confused, but before he could open it, Sherlock burst inside.

“What're you doing,” Will asked,angry and surprised.

“Hannibal drove you home, right? Hannibal Lecter,” Sherlock asked, looking around the small family room.

“Yes. Why?”

“You need to stay away from him,” Sherlock said, finally looking at Will.

“What? Why?”

“He's dangerous.”

“See, you said that about Moriarty too, and he hasn't even spoken to me since the first time we met,” Will argued.

“Yes, but you've seen him staring at you, I know you have. You can tell he’s dangerous. Why can't you do the same with Hannibal,” Sherlock countered, his voice growing in volume as he spoke.

This took Will back a bit, but he dug his heels in and shouted, “maybe for once you're wrong about something!” Sherlock rolled his eyes. Will continued, “maybe you're just so afraid of abandonment, you can't stand the idea of one of your few friends hanging out with someone else!” Sherlock fixed his with a cold, stabbing glare.

“And where are your friends now?” Will rolled his eyes with a scoff before turning away. “What would Jack say,” Sherlock continued. “He'd tell you to be careful. Because Hannibal is dangerous.”

“Why,” Will asked, turning back around. “Why do you think Hannibal's dangerous?”

“I-I don't know,” Sherlock answered honestly.

“You don't know,” Will asked incredulously.

“No. I don't know,” Sherlock shouted. Will glared at him for a beat before continuing.

“You can tell what I dreamt about by my hair. You can tell who I was last texting by my hands. You can tell how prepared I am for my tests by my shirts, but you can't give me one single reason why I should stay away from him? Really?” Will could see how frustrated Sherlock was becoming as he paced around the room, struggling to think of what to say next, his hands scratching through his hair.

“It's like- it's like he's wearing a mask,” Sherlock tried.

“A mask?”

“Yes, like a person mask. He hides everything he does, everything he thinks about, every emotion behind it. And because of that mask I can't see why exactly he's dangerous, but I know he is because if he wasn't, he wouldn't need it!”

The two stared at each other, both trying to take in what Sherlock had just said, both trying to catch their breaths before Will asked, “what are you doing, Sherlock?”

“You're my friend, Will. Though we may argue, I don't want to see you hurt. So I'm warning you about a threat you're too ignorant to see.”

Will’s face turned blank and cold as he said, “I want you to leave. I'm not sure what you're doing,” Sherlock tried to butt in, but Will wouldn't let him. “But you need to go. I get that you're trying to look out for me, but I can handle myself.” Sherlock looked at him, not saying anything, as if he were waiting for Will to realize his mistake.

When it didn't happen, he sighed and said, “Will, please at least consider what I said.” He looked at Will for a second longer before turning around and walking out the door.

He opened the door to a higher end, rental car and practically fell into the passenger seat, rubbing at his temples tiredly.

“Did it not go well,” Mycroft asked cockily, looking at his little brother with a smirk. Sherlock glared at him.

“Don't know what you're so proud of. You're the one who suggested I talk to him.” Mycroft’s smile fell.

“I meant send him a text or a message on Facebook, I didn't mean go to his house.”

“You're the one who thinks his life's in danger!”

“I said “could be in danger”,” Mycroft shouted. Sherlock turned to look out the window and pout as Mycroft put the car in reverse and started to drive back to their host, Mrs. Hudson’s, home.

“What is he,” Sherlock asked after a few long minutes of silence.

“I really don't know. I doubt there's ever been anything like him before.”

 

***

 

Alana was walking out of the community college just as the sun had began to set, when she bumped into a familiar figure.

“Oops, sorry,” she apologized, stepping back.

“No worries,” Hannibal said with a polite smile.

“What're you doing here,” Alana asked with a bright smile.

“Will recommend I look into the psychology course here.”

“Oh yeah, it's super good! I've been trying to convince Will to take it next year.”

“What're you doing here so late,” Hannibal asked, gesturing around the mostly empty building.

“Oh, I had class earlier but I was just talking to my teacher about a test we have next week,” Alana explained.

“Sounds like a fun way to spend a Friday night,” Hannibal joked. The two laughed, though Hannibal's was more of a quiet chuckle.

“Well I better get going, but you should definitely talk to an administrator about taking a class here.”

“I definitely will,” Hannibal said, stepping to the side so she could walk pass. “Have a good night.”

“You too.” Hannibal watched her as she walked to her car before stepping into the building. He walked right past the administration office, down a long hall, and out the doors that led to the community gardens on the other side of the building.

By the time he got out there the sun had set, the only light coming from a small, dying bulb over the door to a shed, and the only person left there was getting ready to go. He stepped up to the man, who appeared to be nearly ten years older then Hannibal, give or take.

“Evening,” Hannibal greeted. The man simply glanced a glare at him before he began to take off his gardening gloves. Hannibal just smiled and stepped forward. “Little late for gardening.” The man continued to ignore him as he put his gloves and gardening tools away in a bag. Hannibal glanced inside and saw what he thought was a bee keeping uniform. He looked and saw a bee keeping hat, hidden behind where the man stood. “Do you do bee keeping? I've always been interested in it myself. I had no idea they had a program for it here,” Hannibal said, looking around the small garden before his eyes caught on the several wooden boxes a few feet away.

“What do you want,” the man asked roughly, causing Hannibal to look back at him.

He extended his hand with a sly, and promising grin as he said insidiously, “Hannibal Lecter. Nice to meet you.”