Chapter Text
Hannibal is not generally prone to judging his students too harshly for a variety of reasons. For one thing, this is not a mandatory class; it’s more an exploration of a side hobby and a way for people to get out their frustrations by kneading dough and cutting out cookies. For another, it’s entirely a group of volunteers, who dedicate hours of their time and patience to learn how to craft delicate baked goods that are then donated to the hospital. And lastly, a lot of his students picked up their skills here and there, piecemeal, so he can’t fault them too much when they make silly mistakes because, really, they had no teacher but themselves and he admires those who try.
That being said.
Will Graham is probably the worst student Hannibal’s ever had.
The first time, he came in late, which already put a frown in Hannibal’s voice. The second time he confused sugar for salt, which rendered most of his creations moot. He’s mixed up teaspoon and tablespoon multiple times.
And that doesn’t even begin to cover the fact that he never manages to remember to bring an apron, often fails to tie it correctly so it falls over in crucial moments, forgets his oven mitts enough to burn his fingers constantly, and in general is clumsy as anyone Hannibal’s ever known.
Hannibal is not the kindest teacher, but he’d like to think he’s not the sternest and also somewhat capable, but really, he has no idea what to do with Will.
To be honest, he’s not sure why Will is even here. Most of Hannibal’s students are just medical interns or nurses who are bored and want something to do with their downtime or want to curry favor with him since he has a pretty good reputation and hasn’t taken a mentee in ages. Will is not even employed by the hospital at all, in fact; if the rumors and whispers Hannibal hears are true, he’s actually an FBI student at Quantico. While Hannibal could reach out and probably smooth his way there, Hannibal hasn’t really formed an connections as of yet, so essentially, he’s really, really, really not sure why Will is here.
That’s not to say that Will deserves a place on his rolodex either. He’s clumsy and makes a lot of mistakes, but aside from forgetting his apron and being late, he’s rather polite. He cleans up his messes without fuss, never starts a fight, never steals someone else’s equipment or ingredients.
If he weren’t so annoying, Hannibal might be tempted to sketch him, actually. He has a rather lovely face, and Hannibal’s sure his eyes are lovely too but he doesn’t actually know because Will never looks up.
Then comes the day that Hannibal decides to make holiday cookies, which he figures are simple enough even for Will.
However, Will stumbles in late, which sets the tone for the day. The usual mistakes happen: he nearly adds salt instead of sugar, he forgets to pre-heat his oven, and so on. Also he has a strange fascination with dog-shaped cookies instead of the standard trees and wreathes and stars that almost every else does. At least his decorations and icings on the dogs are rather accurate though.
Then Hannibal is called away for a moment, and he leaves through the back door for a quick consultation with a fellow doctor.
When he comes back, he can hear Will’s voice, clear and confident and nothing like he’s ever heard out of the man, and it’s astonishing because Will is actually talking about baking and what’s more, he’s correct.
“Not that parchment paper,” Will is saying, and there’s a rustle as he probably hands over a different roll. “This one is better.”
Hannibal takes a step closer, and to his amazement, not only has Will managed to clean up his station and pop his batch of cookies in the oven, he’s actually wandering around giving tips to other students, who seem to accept this as a normal course of action when usually everyone snickers when Will messes up.
Well, well, now, Hannibal wonders, what game are you playing, Mr. Graham?
This is why, after everyone is done, the kitchen has been restored to its normal level of cleanliness and the cookies have been carefully packaged away, Hannibal does the reasonable thing and holds Will back on the pretense of needing some help carrying the packages upstairs. Will, caught off guard in front of everyone else, has no choice but to agree.
“So, Mr. Graham,” Hannibal starts, “do you always play substitute teacher when I am absent?”
Will freezes with one hand stretched towards the packages, and the guilty look that crumples his mouth speaks volumes.
“So you do know how to bake properly.”
“Um . . . . . . . well,” Will says, shifting from foot to foot. “Yeah. Kinda had to learn. I spent most of college foraging for myself, and baking was always easier than cooking.”
“Then the pretense was for whose benefit, if you do not mind me asking?”
“Look, I’ll – I’ll go away,” Will blurts out desperately, and when he turns around, Hannibal gets the first good look at his eyes and promptly stops hearing anything else Will is saying, because any of Hannibal’s imaginings do not at all do justice to the lovely sight that is Will. His eyes are blue enough to put sapphires to shame, and framed with his curls and how expressive his eyes are, Hannibal for a moment wonders if he’s discovered an angel hiding in a human’s body, and all the clumsiness comes from trying and failing to be “human” instead of godlike.
“ – I won’t bother you anymore, I promise, I just – ”
Hannibal puts up one hand, and Will falls silent as though he’d lost his voice.
“You are avoiding my question.”
Will wriggles like a puppy who has crawled into a plastic bag and now can’t figure out how to wriggle back out. It’s almost . . . adorable.
“I just wanted to spend time with you,” Will finally admits, after a long silence. “I was just . . . passing by one day, and you were kneading some dough, and I just thought, you know, if I could spent just a little more time with you, even a few moments, life would be good again. It was like watching an art master, you were so precise and strong and your baking came out perfectly and you were really, really hot – I mean, um. Ignore that last bit. Please.”
Hannibal can’t help the smile that takes over his face at that. He generally disdains flattery in all its forms, but there’s something so honest and vulnerable about Will’s words, which started off slow but gained steam until they tumbled out beyond his control.
It’s truly quite charming.
“Please let me die here now,” Will pleads, and that seals the deal.
“I think we need to start again,” Hannibal says instead and offers his hand, which Will stares at as though it’s a snake prepped to bite him. “My name is Hannibal Lecter. Would you care to join me for a cup of coffee?”
Will squints at him. “Do you normally invite stalkers to a date?”
“Who said it was a date?”
“I’m hoping you’re not about to press charges because I’m poor and don’t own anything that could make you richer so date was the next best option?”
Hannibal laughs, and it’s surprising almost as much as Will himself. It’s so refreshing to meet someone who manages to constantly surprise Hannibal with rudeness in a way that doesn’t make Hannibal want to eat him alive. Well. He does want to eat Will alive, but not quite the same way as the others in his basement, and inside, his monster is already purring at the idea of keeping this beautiful, confusing, rude man safe at his side instead of losing him to anyone who would not be able to appreciate his beauty.
He decides to listen to his monster.
The upside of Will moving in with Hannibal is that he’s much more amendable to random kissing sessions around the house and Hannibal is treated to the lovely sight of Will wandering around in Hannibal’s sweaters and nothing else.
The downside of Will moving in with Hannibal is that he’s so perceptive he finds the wedding rings before Hannibal can properly propose, and promptly ruins the surprise by tackling Hannibal at the door and riding him in the foyer, wild with laughter and refusing to take the ring back off so Hannibal can get it finished to his satisfaction.
Hannibal still insists on a proper wedding, though.
FINIS