Chapter Text
Will adjusted his tie, maybe if he could keep the damn thing from strangling him, he’d enjoy the party more. Jack had insisted that he show up at graduation — apparently shaping the FBI’s latest class of mediocre profilers wasn’t enough of a contribution to society. Now, he had to be sociable.
He’d sat through what had to be the longest graduation ceremony in the history of time, his mind pinging from case files to old jingles he’d remembered on the radio. Will hadn’t realized he was humming the Band-Aid song until Jack stepped on his foot. After, Will shook hands with about 50 people who told him they loved his class — he had no idea who they were. And now he was trapped between the hors d’oeuvres and the bar, sipping a whiskey until they took the damn graduating photo and he could make a quick exit.
“Are you attempting to loosen it or strangle yourself?”
Will jumped turning to look wide-eyed at Hannibal. How anyone looked so handsome in a navy and gold brocade suit was beyond Will. If anyone asked him, he’d say Hannibal’s suit was absurd, and it was. And yet… it seemed to compliment Hannibal in all the ways that Will’s suit didn’t. Hannibal was totally at ease with himself and the garish material, his confidence as well-tailored as his jacket. It was unthinkable that this man would struggle with his tie or pull awkwardly at the sleeves that were just a bit too short. Will curled his fingers tighter into his polyblend tie, resenting the knot for showing him up in front of his…
His what?
Will shook his head, no good conclusions would come from following that thought.
The doctor offered his typical crocodile smile, more an insinuation than an actual expression. Will got the impression that he was minutes from being eaten alive. Why that made his stomach swoop pleasantly was anyone’s guess — he'd always been weird. “What are you doing here?”
Hannibal’s smile grew warmer and more genuine, Will hated how beautiful it was. Long fingers laced with his at his throat. Will dropped his hands in a panic, eyes narrowing when Hannibal continued to fuss with his tie. “Well, much to my chagrin, Jack asked me to be a speaker tonight. I was quite honored to accept, but I see my speech left something to be desired if you didn’t notice me at the dais.”
“I-” Will had spaced out for the majority of the ceremony, running case files on the latest serial killer, picturing the three victims with their jaws removed, tongues lolling in a silent scream. The vision had made him panic slightly, his tie constricting his throat until he felt a long-clawed hand settle on his shoulder. The sensation had been oddly comforting as had the hissed breathe he heard in his ear. Will frowned, chancing a glance at Hannibal, whose long fingers were still fiddling with his tie, comforting and warm at the base of his throat. “Sorry.”
“Nonsense. I’m sure it was a simple matter of your tie being too tight, restricting air to that incredible brain of yours. Hopefully, that helps.” Hannibal pressed his hands to Will’s chest, eyes dancing. Will found himself taking a deep breath soothed by the warm weight. He thought of those taloned fingers again.
Hannibal dropped his hands to his side and Will fought the crazy urge to grab them and put them back on his chest. He glanced down, but couldn’t see what Hannibal had done to his tie. He only knew it felt better now.
“Hannibal! Will!” Jack boomed into their moment, making Will flinch and Hannibal fall back into that plasticized smile Will hated so. Jack clapped two large hands on their shoulders. “Time for a picture for the newsletter. I- Will, you’re looking sharp.”
Will felt his cheeks heat. He tugged at his tie again, feeling the smooth knot at the base of his throat.
“Come along, Will,” Hannibal whispered into Will’s ear. “I believe it’s time to say cheese.”
Will shifted, letting Hannibal’s voice wash down his spine before following the doctor to the churning crowd of people. He found a spot in the back, glaring as Hannibal breezed among the other faculty, accepting accolades for his brilliant talk and shaking hands like he was running for mayor of the FBI. It was so goddamn easy for him, the prick. Meanwhile, Will shifted from foot to foot anxiously tugging on his tie, worrying Hannibal's knot and resenting the comfort of it between his fingers.
“Alright everyone, eyes here please!” Will adopted his typical picture grimace, he could go home soon, at least.
“Ah, I see that tie has gotten the better of you again.” Will jumped turning to look at Hannibal with owlish eyes as the doctor adjusted his tie again. Vaguely, he noted a flash in his peripheral vision.
The photo quickly became legend in his department. Will arrived at his office after another sleepless night to find it taped to his door. The printout in question was blown up from the FBI Newsletter, a close-up of Hannibal coyly smiling at Will, hands wrapped around the smaller man’s tie. For his part, Will was staring up at Hannibal with wide eyes and slightly parted lips.
Will knew his expression had been surprise, but in the photograph, it looked closer to…breathless ardor. The cartoon heats someone had drawn around them both didn’t help the impression.
“We’re trying out couples names,” Will flinched and turned to glower at Bev, who continued to smile. “Price wants Hannigram. Z says it should be Cheekbones and Curls. I voted Hanniwill. Thoughts?”
“None I care to share.” Will ripped the picture from his office door. His head was pounding.
“You sound like Jack. Dr. Katz I’m trying to catch killers not run a dating service.” Beverly bellowed, furrowing her brow in what was at the very least a B+ impression of their boss. She held out a report. “Speaking of no fun, I’ve got the fiber report on the jawless vics, there’s not much to go on.”
Will nodded, grabbing the report and waving Bev off with it. “I’ll have notes for Jack before lunch.”
He settled into his desk tossing the report in front of him. The picture was still crumpled in his hand. Will moved to toss it into the trash but paused. After a moment of silence, Will placed it on his desk, smoothing out the wrinkles in the paper. Before he could think better of it, he slipped the photo into his satchel.
He just didn’t want anyone to see the picture in the trash, that was all. He’d throw it away when he got home.
“Buster! LET WINSTON’S EAR GO!” Will sighed, flinging his bag on his bed. The dogs were always keyed up when he returned home, especially Buster, who expressed excitement like all terriers, through bursts of violence. The little dog was currently tugging on Winston’s ear, while his patient mutt sat placidly, tail thumping on the floor.
Will thought of that taloned creature again, picturing it sinking long nails into his ear. It didn’t feel frightening, not like he thought it should. It felt like affection, deep and vicious. Will tugged on his ear, smiling.
He took the dogs on an extra-long trek, Buster scampering through muddy ditches, Winston and Harley treeing squirrels. When they came home exhausted, Will settled the dogs before fixing a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and flopping on his bed next to his bag.
The contents of the messenger had spilled across his sheets — casefiles for the newest killer, a few syllabus ideas he needed to work through…and a crumpled picture of Hannibal, grinning as he adjusted Will’s tie. Chewing as he examined the image, Will ran a finger over Hannibal’s face. After a moment he sighed, gently placing the printout on his bedside table.
He should probably throw it out. And maybe he would.
Tomorrow.