Chapter Text
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You should seek your enemy, you should wage your war… ― Friedrich Nietzsche, Thus Spoke Zarathustra
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“Willy,” Lilah yells cheerfully, flopping herself down onto the couch, uncaring that she is getting dog hair on her six hundred dollar Gucci pants, “Get dressed. We’re taking mommy and daddy to the opera tonight!”
Will sticks his head out of their kitchen, a wide, open concept that gives him a perfect view of his sister, all wine red hair – from a bottle, but Lilah will deny it to strangers until her last breath – flowing wildly around her shoulders, framing her pixie like face, emerald eyes sparkling with innate mischief. His sister is sprawled inelegantly out over the couch, nineteen years young and painfully beautiful, the image of their mother’s elegant sharp features, decked out in over three thousand dollars in the latest seasons fashion with their mutt puppy in her lap, rubbing Winston’s belly like it’s going out of style as the pup wags his tail fiercely and licks her face devotedly.
His little sister, in a nutshell. Entirely uncaring of propriety, a bit flightly, who spends far too much money on clothes she doesn’t even care enough about to maintain. But also the sweetest girl he’s ever met, with the gentlest heart, fierce in her love and her defence of the people who are lucky enough to have that love. No one in his life has ever had his back the way Lilah has, his very own fierce little alpha warrior, and Will can’t find it in himself to deny her anything, from the tiny mutt puppy she’d brought home one night, shivering and mud soaked in her Burberry coat, to going to the opera with their parents as a punishment for whatever thing Lilah has done now.
Will sighs, putting the dish he’d been drying away, silently waving that nice, quiet evening in his and Lilah’s penthouse apartment with a cold beer and a good book goodbye. “And what did you do this time?” Will drawls, arms crossed over his chest and eyebrow raised, but Will knows the look in his eyes is too fond for real reproach, as it always is with Lilah.
“Willy, I’m hurt. Why do you always suspect me?” Lilah protests dramatically, fluttering her eyelashes with exaggerated innocence and thrusting her hands over her heart melodramatically, until Winton’s puppy whines bring them back to his fur.
“Precedent,” Will says, deadpan, hiking his eyebrow up even higher as he remembers all of the previous occurrences where Lilah did something well-meaning but stupid without thinking, and then dragged Will into the consequences with her.
Will loves his sister, utterly and completely, but there is a pattern here, he has noticed.
“There is that,” Lilah admits without shame, as she drawls, voice pitched higher than normal for emphasis, “I may or may not have almost gotten myself arrested again.”
“Lils…” Will sighs, already imaging the voicemail they are both going to get from their grandparents, reminding them of the responsibility associated with being a New Orleans Le Fontaine. Neither Lilah or Will are strangers to said cheery phone call, though the balance has shifted in the last few years from Will being the recipient most to Lilah, something that Will has the sneaking suspicion is probably not accidental on Lilah’s part.
His little sister, always stepping in front of the sword for him and taking their grandparents vitriol.
Its things like that that make it impossible for Will to ever stay mad at his sister.
“Michael’s ex is an asshole, an elitist alpha prick who thinks his cock means he has the right to do anything. He was hassling Michael and trying to intimidate him to come back, and he put his hands on him when Michael told him no,” Lilah says, the fire in her eyes incongruent with how gentle her hands are, still stroking Winston, who has curled up in her lap and is napping like the baby he is, “I took offense with that, so I…convinced him to remove them.”
His little sister. Impulsive, noble to a fault, and always letting her big heart get her into trouble.
“You’re ok? You’re not hurt are you?” Will says, giving his sister a more thorough once over then the customary one that he gave her when she came in, looking for any injures he might have missed. Will doesn’t see anything, no blood or bruised knuckles, but that doesn’t quite vanquish the worry that lingers in Will at the idea of his baby sister being hurt.
“Willy,” Lilah chides him, rolling her eyes at the very idea, before she says, with a certain amount of vicious triumph in her voice, “now I am almost insulted. I was just as good in those self-defence classes as you were, I’ll have you remember. That asshole walked off with a sprained wrist and a bruised ego, and tried to press charges like the little bitch he is.”
“Do forgive me for worrying about my little sister,” Will says, facetiously chiding, relief keeping him in a good enough mood that he’s smiling, just a little bit as he asks, genuinely curious, “And how did you avoid calling me to bail you out like last time, with the anti-drone protest?”
“Dumbass didn’t notice that a cop was there the whole time,” Lilah says, throwing him a can you believe that asshole look, one Will is familiar with on Lilah’s face before she continues, “He saw it my way, like all the other witnesses did, and told Michael’s ex to nut up and fuck off. But that stupid tabloid reporter got a pic, put it in her lame stalker column, and mommy ended up hearing about it. And so, the ‘spontaneous’ trip to Baltimore with daddy, and the opera.”
“Please tell me you’re paraphrasing what the cop said,” Will says, manfully resisting the urge to put his face in his palm, magnanimously ignoring the fact that his sister actually made air quotes around the word spontaneous like a ten year old kid.
“Mine is more amusing, and factually accurate too,” Lilah says with a cheeky wink, before she shifts into what Will calls ‘bargaining mode,’ something he knows that, once she outgrows her purposely rebellious phase, will make her an excellent corporate executive, “Also, Michael will be coming tonight, and you like Michael, right?”
“You’re bringing your boyfriend to the event you are being forced to attend as a result of defending said boyfriend’s honor?” Will asks, lifting that questioning eyebrow again, trying to piece out the logic behind that one. Will does like Michael; from what he’s seen of the kid he seems like a nice, calm, collected guy, exactly what his firecracker of a sister needs. A heartland boy, all windblown skin and neat blond hair, conventionally attractive for an omega and from a nice, middleclass family who, most importantly, adores his sister. From what Lilah has told him, Michael, who’d been dating said asshole ex at the time, imprinted on Lilah in their first civics class together, and then had bashfully announced it to her, but had prefaced it with the fact that she was so far out of his league that he was absolutely not expecting anything from someone as perfect as her.
Lilah had pretty much steamrolled her way into his life after that, and hasn’t let go since. They’re disgustingly cute together, and Will has no doubt they’re going to last the long haul, though he’s grateful they’ve both decided to wait until they’re at least out of college before getting mated. Will knows that Lilah hadn’t told their parents about him yet, mostly because she was trying to spare him their grandparents’ apathy and disapproval, which Will admires, he really does, but he also acknowledges that letting their parents find out through that Lounds woman’s society trash column in Baltimore Sun probably wasn’t the way to go.
His mother is fabulous, she really is, but she can be creatively vindictive when she wants to be.
“Mommy insisted,” Lilah says with long suffering eye roll, confirming Will’s suspicions, as she continues, “I imagine she wants to grill him and make sure he’s good enough for me, while daddy stands by and pretends he’s not laughing at the whole affair.”
“That…sounds about right,” Will says, amused resignation in his tone, because they both know that’s exactly what is going to happen, and then, although he knows the answer to this question, he asks it anyways, just because he wants to hear his sister say it, “And where do I come in?”
“Why moral support of course,” Lilah says, gearing up her drama, fluttering her lashes and looking at him with big, pitiful eyes, “My loving big brother wouldn’t let me face an ordeal like that alone, now would he? And besides, I already told mommy you’d be there, and she was so happy. You wouldn’t want to disappoint mommy,” she finishes, all the cat that’s got the canary satisfaction her face, because they’re both aware that Will is never going to refuse both her and their parents.
“I hate you,” Will says, but the sheer fondness in his voice steals away any of the bite the sentiment might have had, and the twinkle in Lilah’s eyes as she parries back, “You love me,” says she knows it too.
“Yes I do,” Will says, ruffling a hand teasingly through his sister’s luxurious hair, messing it up, before he heads towards his bedroom to get ready for the evening ahead of him, shooting back teasingly over his shoulder as he does, “God help me.”
Lilah’s whined, “Heeyyy,” follows him all the way into the room with him.
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An hour or so later, after Will has showered and shaved, and dried his hair, a little too long for his grandparents’ preference – and kept that way, Will admits, partially for that reason – finds Will in front of the mirror in his walk in closet, full of designer suits and menswear that Will couldn’t care less about. Will can wear Hugo Boss and Giorgio Armani with the best of them, but he’d much prefer some flannel and a nice soft beat up pair of denim jeans, just like his dad.
And as Will puts on his two thousand dollar personally tailored tux, ties his bowtie with practiced ease, he can’t help but imagine how easily the man who looks back at him in the mirror might never have existed. Will’s mother’s family were beyond livid when their blue-blooded New Orleans royalty alpha daughter had mated and produced a child with a backwater bayou nobody omega, and tried every trick in the book to try and get his mother to leave his father, from serious emotional manipulation to financial threats.
Shannon told her parents to respectfully go fuck themselves, and that she was keeping her mate and her son, and that as their only alpha child, if her parents wanted her to run the company, they’d have to take Will and Bill as well.
Six months later Will’s grandparents had buckled, and Shannon taken over the New York company headquarters, relocating Will and Bill there with her, to be far away from her parents. A year and a half later Bill had given birth to Lilah, the couple’s first and only alpha child, and his grandparents had stopped being at least overtly hostile to Bill at the production of an appropriate heir, though they’d certainly never warmed to him all the way. They’d been apathetic at best towards Bill and their first grandchild, the strange little quiet omega boy with the eyes that saw far too much.
At worst, Will’s grandparents pretty much hated him until he graduated with an accounting degree, joined the company and started displaying an innate ability to make them money. Will’s not too fond of people – his parents and sister excluded - but he loves numbers, and combining that love with his empathy – as several therapists have titled it – his ability to get into people’s heads and see what they, and their business interests are going to do, Will’s managed to streamline the company’s Baltimore interests and maximize their profits by forty percent in only two years.
Will’s grandparents suddenly seemed to find Will a great deal more tolerable after that. Now they’re even talking about how excited they are that one day Will will make the ideal CFO to Lilah’s CEO of Le Fontaine Global.
Bill, Will and Lilah all had good laugh about that one, while Shannon had just shook her head and sighed fondly at her mate and her children.
“I hate the opera,” Will says, sensing Lilah’s presence without even having to turn around, continuing to finish up with his tie, letting the soothing sound of the fabric of Lilah’s dress as she moves around behind him wash over him.
“No you don’t,” Lilah says, resplendent in a black Vera Wang, that reaches to almost her neck in the front but is backless to the dimples in her spine, showing off her defined back muscles, the strong spine of an alpha predator, as she sweeps over to his dresser and picks up his cuff links, mother of pearl, a gift from his mother, and fits them expertly into his shirt, “you love the music. You just hate all the stupid little boring people there, yours truly excluded of course.”
This, Will admits, is true.
“I’m going to get mistaken for your age, carded insistently and hit on by alphas that I could have babysat for, all of them dumber and more boring than the next, who only see my child bearing hips and whose parents are only interested in my last name,” Will complains, with a certain amount of exasperated frustration, born from the fact that this is what always happens, “And that’s nothing to say of the alpha’s who could be mom’s age who are going to ask me if I ‘need some sugar.’”
Will shudders at that last one, instinctively, and Lilah mimes vomiting from over his shoulder, making Will smile.
“Oh my poor big brother, too pretty for his own good,” Lilah coos, and when Will meets her eyes in the mirror he can see they are twinkling merrily with mischief, as she teases him mercilessly, “What a terrible burden you must overcome.”
“You know, I wanted a puppy and I got you instead,” Will says, turning around so that he can tug on one of the loose curls that escape the elegant up do that Lilah has put together with what looks like pearl tipped pins, a lot of hairspray and possibly a few prayers.
“Well, now you’ve got both,” Lilah says, running her hands of his shoulders to fix the line of his suit, after she’s finished sticking her tongue out at him, before she sets off back to the drawer to find Will’s cologne, some ridiculously expensive thing that she had made for him for his last birthday.
“Yes,” Will reminds her gently when she returns, offering his wrists to her in turn, so she can spritz them with the cologne, that smells of vanilla and sandalwood, “But Winston hasn’t emotionally blackmailed me into going to the opera lately.”
“Hey, who knows,” Lilah says, waving away Will’s accusation with a dismissive hand wave, before she continues, tongue firmly set in cheek, “maybe you’ll meet your alpha prince charming tonight and fall head over heels in love, until I drag you away at midnight back to our ivory tower to preserve your virginity.”
“Little sister,” Will says, with a facade of grim seriousness, as he announces with grave solemnity, “I regret to inform you that ship has sailed.”
“Not including your beta girlfriends,” Lilah drawls back, entirely unimpressed, and yes, alright, even Will has to concede that she has a point there. Will has terrible luck with dating alphas – his empathy means that everytime he sits down to a date with an alpha, their disorganized and largely disgusting thoughts always distract him – which has led to him mostly dating female betas, who are perfectly content with just using him for practice before they go hunting for a beta or an alpha that can give them children. The only alpha that Will ever felt any compatibility with was a young man named Mathew, who he dated in college for a month and a half. Mathew had the most clear and logically organized mind that Will had ever encountered in an alpha, and had given him the first taste of what he might want in an alpha.
Of course, one can’t forget the fact that relationship ended when the cops arrested Mathew for being a serial arsonist, the last three of his fires which he had set in Will’s honor.
Will’s half afraid that if he does imprint on an alpha, he’ll be a serial killer or something. The other half is dedicated to the fear that if that happens, Will isn’t going mind as long as he gets a loving mate and a couple of healthy children out of the deal.
Will will cross that bridge if and when he gets to it.
“Shut up,” Will says, for lack of a better comeback, pulling himself away from that thought, before he tells his sister, with a tiny smirk, “Or I’m telling mom about the time I found your receipt to that sex toy shop downtown for self-heating edible lube and Ben Wa balls.”
“Grasshopper, you are learning the art of the manipulative shrew,” His sister says, wiping an imaginary tear of pride out of her eye, “I’m so proud of you.”
“I owe it all to you sensei,” Will says, bowing mockingly, before he draws his arm around Lilah’s waist and looks at the picture they both make in the mirror, his own waif like omegean softness contrasting with Lilah’s powerful alpha sharpness, “You ready for this?”
“Gamefaces on,” Lilah says, through lips painted blood red, a fierce twinkle in her eyes, “Let’s do this.”
Alright, Will thinks, with a sigh of resignation, might just well.
What’s the worst thing that can happen?
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The players:
Will La Fontaine, 24, omega, accountant (and cannibal tolerant)
Hannibal Lecter, 31, alpha, surgeon (and cannibal)
Lilah La Fontaine, 19, alpha, university student - business major (I retconned Lilah. Yesterday I couldn't find the perfect actress. Today I remembered Emma Stone is a person. You are welcome).
Just look at those curls. Hannibal is doomed, and you are welcome.
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