Chapter Text
“You’re sure about this?” Will muttered as he scanned the area for a bar. The hotel had set up a little wet bar at the head of the docks, so people could stand in the sun and hope seagulls didn’t shit on them, he guessed.
“Will, please, you promised.”
“I said I wouldn’t object to the wedding,” Will caught the eye of a man behind the bar and signaled for a drink. “This is the welcome reception; I can bitch all I want to now.”
Alana sighed, she turned and cradled Will’s cheeks in her soft hands. “I am sure, Will. I wish you’d give Margot a chance.”
Will sighed. “I’ll get a drink in me. I promise I’ll be sociable by the time you bring her over.”
Squeezing his face like he was some sort of cherished family spaniel, Alana released him. “You’re the best.”
“I know,” Will tapped the large plastic button pinned to his shirt. It said Best Man in swirling font. “I’ve got the button.”
Alana grinned and moved to mingle with the incoming guests. Will slipped his sunglasses on so he could roll his eyes in peace and wondered, not for the first time, how few friends Alana had that an anti-social empath ex-lover was her choice to stand next to her at the altar and hold her bouquet.
It wasn’t that Will wanted to stop the wedding, per se, it’s just that he wished it wasn’t happening. Alana had managed to go from girlfriend to gal pal in under six months — Will wasn’t terribly sorry to lose Alana’s romantic company, but it was a blow to the ego to see how truly shit her taste in romantic partners was.
Margot was fine. If Will had met her under any other circumstances, he probably would have liked her. But there was a big problem with her as far as Will was concerned — her last name.
Verger was a highly revered name in most circles. The family had built a meat-packing dynasty that had earned wealth and respect along the east coast. But after taking his hush money from the FBI and accepting his forced medical retirement, Will had bought a large property next to the so-called Verger estate, and he’d grown to loathe the sight of the looming building when he walked the dogs at night.
He’d started his rescue, Winston’s Place, building large kennels for new intakes and fenced acreage for the dogs to romp in. But Will discovered the types of strays he found bordering his property and the Verger estate were almost always in shocking condition.
Sisco, his newest stray, had come to him with a torn ear and missing an eye. He also had a prominent brand on his side — one that read Verger. It wasn’t the first branded dog he’d found crying and cowering in the copse of trees between the properties, but it was the first time the brand had been clear enough to read. He’d gone to the police with the dog, wanting them to investigate animal cruelty on the compound, but the officers had just dismissed him with some bullshit story about the dog getting lost in the processing plant.
After that, Will had gone to the house himself and been escorted off the premises by two large men who had no problem tossing him back to his car. He’d gotten a bunch of weird phone calls after that and a mutilated pig, emblazoned with the Verger brand had found its way to his front porch. The police called it a prank. Will called it harassment of a former FBI employee, but apparently, Jack had better things to do than chase down pork millionaires who were hurting animals on behalf of his former pet empath.
So, Will had begun to work on his own plan for dealing with his horrible neighbors. He’d spent long nights walking along the edge of the property learning the timing of the guards and positions of the cameras. His plan was forming, growing horns and teeth as Will prodded and shaped it, but he’d had to stuff that to the back of his mind when Alana had come visiting chattering about a big summer wedding.
When Alana had introduced Margot to Will, wearing the same hopeful expression she’d once saved for him, Will had found the girl in question…odd. She was quiet, which Will normally liked, but had a hunted expression that set his stomach churning. His empathy roared at him, there was something off, something he wasn’t quite seeing, but he wasn’t sure what. He’d told Alana his concerns, but he and his empathy were ignored, as they always were when he brought up something people didn’t want to hear.
So now, here he was, downing a watered-down whiskey sour at the Hyatt Regency’s dock bar, glaring at the Choptank River and wondering if Alana would mind her best man chartering a fishing boat and skipping the ceremony.
“Will! So nice to see you again.” Margot tapped Will with a manicured hand, spinning him from his lovely dream of a fishing boat. Will might have resented the insincerity in Margot’s voice, but since the feeling was mutual, he let it slide. Alana stood next to her, their arms linked, and Alana’s pretty brows furrowed in a warning to be polite. “How’s the animal rescue?”
“Margot.” Will cocked his head. How’s the family, torture any animals today? probably wasn’t the opening line Alana was hoping for. He took a deep breath through his nose and willed the whiskey through his bloodstream. “Hi.”
“I see you’re ready for your duties.” Margot nodded and Will glanced down at his chest.
“Yeah.” Will grimaced. “Where’s the suit? He get one?”
“The suit is behind you, and quite hurt that Margot didn’t get me a sparkly pin to announce my title.”
Will closed his eyes. Of course. Hannibal fucking Lecter. Dr. Hannibal Fucking Lecter. Margot’s former psychiatrist turned…friend? Their relationship seemed odd to Will, but then again everything about Hannibal seemed odd. The man had shown up to the joint bachelorette party — held at Baltimore’s finest ax-throwing bar — in a three-piece suit made up of so many colors and patterns he looked like a Victorian kaleidoscope.
He introduced himself as Dr. Hannibal Lecter, which was annoying. So Will had introduced himself as Will Graham, Ph.D., FBI emeritus. Infuriatingly that had made the smug prick grin and tell Alana that Will was exactly as she described. When Will had tried to return the backhanded compliment by saying Hannibal was exactly as described, he was cruelly betrayed by his supposed friend, who informed the prissy doctor not to worry, she always described Hannibal as remarkably charming.
Will had sulked off, after that, finding an ax-throwing alley near a secluded corner. Unfortunately, Hannibal had taken that as an invitation to join him. The good doctor had then taken it upon himself to give Will tips on stance and form for ax throwing, which was irritating. But when Hannibal stripped out of his coat and threw an ax directly into the bullseye while barely looking, the night became unbearable.
They played four rounds, all of which Hannibal effortlessly won. Will took some solace in the fact that he’d easily bested the doctor in drinking, which he supposed was something. The room was spinning, but at least he didn’t have to look directly at that infuriatingly handsome face. But something occurred to Will as he stewed — why would a handsome society doctor be an excellent ax thrower? Wasn’t like hurling blades came up a lot at dinner parties. He’d slurred the question at Hannibal, asking what other dark secret he was hiding. The next thing he knew he was looking into that stupid, gorgeous face as it pressed him into a stall in the bathrooms. They made out for maybe 15 minutes before Will frowned, muttered sorry, thought you were someone else, and fled.
He'd been thinking about those lips, since that day, and how much he didn’t want to deal with the man attached to them.
But now, there wasn’t much of a choice. Will squinted into the setting sun, doing his best to look mildly embarrassed. “Oh right, Harvey was it?”
“Hannibal.” Hannibal smiled, looking serene. “It’s nice to see you again, Will Graham, Ph.D., FBI emeritus. You never told me, why are you no longer a part of the G-Men, Will?”
“I’m sick in the head,” Will muttered, feeling Alana’s glare on the back of his neck.
“I’m sorry?”
“Medical retirement,” Will sneered. He still resented Jack for wandering into his hospital room, hat in hand, telling Will that the FBI considered him a liability. He hadn’t been a liability when Jack had run him into the ground, just when Freddie Lounds started publishing stories on the mentally unstable profiler that had to be hospitalized and the shooting he’d been cleared of. “Apparently, I can catch serial killers, just not encephalitis.”
“That’s probably why he forgot your name,” Alana interjected, giving Will a quick look.
“Quite alright, you must have thought I was someone else,” Hannibal rumbled right into Will’s ear. He ran a hand down Will’s chest, which absolutely did not make Will shudder, and tapped the button. “I do admire that button.”
And then he was gone, taking Margot’s arm like he was the groom and guiding her toward a crowd of waiting guests.
“What the hell was that?” Alana didn’t hiss, she was far too mature for such a thing, but Will still got the impression she wanted to.
“What?” Will asked his drink.
“Harvey? You called him Hannibal the Horrible for a week after the Bachelorette party. Why did you have to be so rude to him?”
“There’s something not right about him.” Will watched as the slick son of a bitch oiled his way around, gliding from admirer to admirer. “No one’s that charming, I bet he has a secret dungeon or some-”
“Not everyone hates the human race on sight, Will.” Alana sighed. “Look, I know the way things ended between us wasn’t great, but I thought we had worked on forming a friendship.”
They hadn’t. She’d just stopped by his house every Thursday and gave him worried looks until he promised they were pals. “We’re friends, Alana.”
“Then can you please try to take this seriously?”
“I will. I promise.” Will offered a half-smile. “You should hear my best man speech, it’s a limerick.”
Alana laughed, then, squeezing his arm. “Fine. I just…I want things to go well here. Margot’s had a tough time-”
Will squinted into the crowd, finding Margot looking wan as she listened to one of Mason’s friends tell a story. Mason himself wasn’t due to arrive until tomorrow, apparently. The patriarch of the family, Molson had been opposed to Margot’s nuptials and “alternative lifestyle”, and apparently had tasked Mason with attending and reporting back. Will wondered why he hadn’t arrived with the rest of the guests, but he was probably waylaid by animal torturing. Nice of his friends to show up and drink the free booze. Will hummed. “OK, I promise, I’ll be charming.”
Alana raised an eyebrow. Will laughed. “Fine. I’ll be unobtrusive. How about that?”
“Wonderful.” Alana flicked the pin on his chest. “You’re the best, Will.”
“Just for that, I’m being rude to at least one more person.”
Alana rolled her eyes with a smirk, smacking him lightly. She wandered off toward Margot and once again Will was alone.
Before one of these society strangers took that as an invitation, Will pulled his phone out.
“Graham! It’s been a while!” Bev’s voice sounded brightly through the phone. Will smiled. He’d missed her. “How’s the rescue?”
“Good, I hope. The volunteers are running it for the weekend.”
“Getting out? You?”
“Forced out. Alana Bloom asked me to be her best man this weekend. Had to drive to the Eastern Shore of Maryland for the privilege.”
Bev whistled. “Read about that in the paper, Verger heiress getting married without her father’s permission? Swanky and scandalous!”
Will glanced at Margot, who seemed to hate large crowds just as much as he did if her posture was any indication. She practically hid behind Alana as they chatted with guests. “Yeah, can you run two checks for me?”
“So…you’re sipping champagne and I’m doing secretarial work? Fun!”
“Bev, please?”
“You’re technically not even allowed to ask me for-”
“Bev.”
There was a sigh. “The next time there’s a bowling night, you go.”
“Fine.”
“And stay until Z leaves.”
“COME ON! I’ll be there all night!”
“Goodbye Will, enjoy the wed-”
“Alright. I’ll stay until Zeller leaves. I’ll even buy the first round.”
“OK, who can I check up on for you?”
“Margot Verger. And Hannibal Lecter.”
Bev hummed. “I see the wedding hasn’t changed your view on the Vergers. How do you spell Lecter?”
“L-e-c-” Will frowned. How had it appeared in the group email?
“t-e-r.” Will made an ungodly noise, nearly leaping into the water. A strong hand around his waist secured him as the other caught his free-falling phone. “And it’s Hannibal with two Ns…About six foot — Will, how would you describe my build?”
Will blinked.
“Let’s say medium, I think. Good tailoring can hide so many flaws.”
Will stared at the man, who was making polite noises into the phone, providing Bev with his date of birth. “I draw the line at my credit card number, Ms…Katz — Beverly. Well, it’s a pleasure to speak to you this evening, Beverly. I hope you have a lovely weekend.”
Hannibal ended the call. “She offers you her regards.”
“What the fuck was that?”
“What?”
“You snuck up on me.”
“Rude of me to sneak up on you while you were checking up on me. I’m terribly sorry.” Hannibal tilted his head. “Why are you checking up on me, I wonder?”
“I just-” Will tried to think of a diplomatic way of saying I want to fuck you and I’m usually only attracted to psychopaths. He settled on shrugging.
“I suppose you thought I was someone else.” Hannibal leaned in, his fingers squeezing hard on Will’s hip. “I wonder what one would need to do to leave an impression on you, Will?”
Will licked his lips, tilting his head back. Hannibal grinned, digging his fingers in just a little harder. Then, just as quickly as he’d been drawn in, Will was released, Hannibal nearly halfway down the pier before Will had recovered his bearings.
“You will let me know when you decide, won’t you?” Hannibal called over his shoulder.
He wasn’t spying on Hannibal, that was for damn sure. If anything, Will was doing his duty as a best man, keeping an eye on a suspicious person. Bev had of course texted him back saying that she had all the info on Hannibal but his dick size — so Will would have to get that for himself. When he attempted to ask her about any information on him being a weirdo criminal, she’d just texted back a wall of eggplant emojis.
Alana had rolled her eyes and again implored Will not to do anything odd at the wedding. When he pushed, he got another oh you poor wretch look and Alana gave him another version of her breakup speech. He tried insisting he was over it — honestly, his late-night dreams of Alana had been replaced with dreams of a strong body grinding against his in an ax-throwing bar bathroom, but she didn’t need to know that — and that he had valid concerns about Hannibal, but Alana had just put her hand on his cheek and told him to try to have a good time.
So now, he was crouched behind a pool chair watching Hannibal have a conversation with one of Margot’s guests. He hadn’t caught the guy’s name, but Hannibal was being very…friendly. Those elegant hands straightened the man’s lapels for no reason and rested on the man’s chest. It was oddly forward for someone as subtle as Hannibal and Will frowned at it. What the hell was Hannibal do-
“Will? Did you drop something?”
Will managed not to scream, but he flinched badly enough to knock the deck chair over. Margot laughed and waved off the crowd of onlookers, helping Will to right the chair.
“I didn’t mean to startle you-”
“It’s fine.” Will frowned at his shoes before nodding at Hannibal. “I was just wondering…who’s your friend talking to over there?”
“Hannibal?” Margot tilted her head, her smile grew thin. “Oh, that’s Tobias, he’s Mason’s friend.”
“Member of the wedding party?” Will hissed the final word.
“No.” Margot’s shoulders hunched slightly. The long sleeves of her blouse billowed in the slight breeze. “Will, Alana told me what you think of Mason and the family, but I-”
“You’re not like them? You’d never mutilate a dog? You’d never bribe the local cops to get your way? You don’t benefit from the Verger name?” Will took his eyes off Hannibal and faltered; Margot looked so fragile in the fading light.
“Being a Verger is only beneficial if you’re my father or brother.” Margot looked at Will with disdain. “Pigs and dogs aren’t the only things trapped in that estate.”
“I-” Will reached out but thought better of it, instead lowering his head and opening his stance — showing he wasn’t a threat. “I could help, make some calls if… Margot, are you safe?”
Margot looked at him for a moment before offering another tight smile. “I will be. Enjoy the welcome reception.”
Will watched her go, mulling over what he’d just seen. She was hurt, and afraid. Maybe he’d been a little bit of a shit to her. He’d have to find her later, pull her aside and apologize properly, maybe offer to help again. He’d known Mason was something wrong the moment he’d seen him, but Will was beginning to think he’d let that color his perception of Margot.
By the time he’d finished chastising himself, he realized he’d lost Hannibal. He ran around the dock to where he’d last seen the doctor, peering into the changing room and over toward the bar.
“May I ask why you’re following me?” Hannibal’s breath curled around Will’s ear doing very interesting things to his blood pressure.
Will jumped back, which unfortunately put him squarely in Hannibal’s arms. Instead of stumbling, the smug bastard caught his weight easily and left his hands on Will’s hips. “I wasn’t following you.”
“Just having me checked by the FBI, then.” Hannibal’s hands were still firmly gripping Will’s waist and distantly, Will knew he should step back. But those damned eyes — something wild flickered in them that rooted Will to the spot. “Did Ms. Katz text you something salacious about my criminal history?”
“No.”
“Ah,” Hannibal’s mouth coiled into a barely-there smile. He tilted his head. “You’re following me in hopes of herding me into another bathroom.”
“WHAT? No.” Will finally pushed back, eyes fierce in the face of Hannibal’s amusement. “I know there’s something wrong with you.”
“I confess,” Hannibal leaned close, Will’s breath caught in his chest. “I’m starting to doubt my taste in men.”
“Me too,” Will whispered, wincing the second the words left his mouth.
That crocodile smile was back, and Will felt the effects of it as warmth flooded him. “Really?”
“Just shut up.” Will poked that solid chest. “I’ve consulted for the FBI on dozens of cases and I know a psycho when I see one.”
The smile didn’t fade. Hannibal reached up, a finger tracing just under Will’s chin. “So do I.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You might think I’m someone else, but I know exactly who you are, Will Graham, Ph.D., FBI emeritus.” Hannibal smiled wide, bearing his fangs. “If you’d like to discuss this further, I’d be thrilled to meet you in the bathroom of your choice in 45 minutes.”
“Why not now?” Will blanched at his own words.
“I’m afraid I’ve made plans, and it would be rude to abandon them now.” Hannibal inched forward, his lips brushing Will’s ear. “But if you’d like to meet me in the bathroom by the library dining area, I noticed they have an exceptionally sturdy counter and a lock on the door. Or we could meet later tonight in my room. It’s 210 if you’re interested.”
He winked. The fucker actually winked at Will.
Worse, Will found himself wanting desperately to smile back. Instead, he snarled. “I don’t want anything to do with you, I just want to make sure you don’t do anything to Alana.”
“How noble.” And with that, Hannibal pulled away, walking away from Will as though he hadn’t just manhandled his earlobe with those unreasonably plush lips. Will stood, fuming as he watched the doctor glide through the crowd, nodding once at Margot before slipping into the hotel.
Will did the only thing he could — ordered another whiskey from the bartender, threw it back with a wince, and followed after Hannibal.