Seven Dogs and a Cat

[roguemariel]

BANG BANG BANG

Will was not having a good day. Will was not having a good day at all. In fact, this entire week had been difficult. One of his dogs was sick, Jack was being Jack, and Hannibal…

Well. Hannibal.

BANG BANG BANG

Will had gotten a call early in the morning. Some unreasonable early morning jogger had run right into a crime scene. The local police suspected the Ripper, so they called Jack. Jack, of course, had called Will.

* * *

“You’re late.”

Will didn’t comment, just glanced over the scene.

Jack sighed, clearly irritated. “Well? What do you see?”

The pendulum swung.

* * *

The door Will had been pounding on opened rather abruptly. Hannibal stood there, lightly dusted in flour.

“Will? Is everything alright?”

“No.” Will pushed his way in, clutching a packet of papers. Hannibal drew in a breath, and shut the door lightly behind them. “We need to talk. Are you busy?”

“As a matter of fact, I was preparing dinner. It will take some time to cook. Perhaps I could interest you in joining me?” Hannibal asked as he led them to the kitchen.

* * *

The blood vanished. The woman’s wounds healed. She stood. So, too, did the shadow of her attacker.

And at once, it all came together. Every long night staring at case files. Every awful plane ride, filled with too many people who wanted to make small talk. Every cut on every broken corpse.

Every missing organ.

* * *

Will paced back and forth as Hannibal finished up with some fancy technique on a dish that contained some kind of meat that Will didn’t want to think too much about. Hannibal took something out of the fridge (“A dessert. Do not worry, there is certainly enough for two if you would like to stay.”) and continued to work on it.

Will finally stopped his nervous movements and whirled around to face Hannibal. He slammed the papers he was holding down on the counter, not close enough to disturb Hannibal’s cooking, but close enough for Hannibal to be able to read it.

They were printouts. The top half of the stack was information on how to get married in Maryland, Virginia, and D.C. Hannibal raised a questioning eyebrow at Will.

Will stared him down, feeling that the documents should speak for themselves, but when Hannibal remained silent, Will explained grudgingly, “We should get married.”

* * *

“Well? What do you see?” Jack asked.

Jack never gave Will enough time to look properly. This time, at least, Will had seen everything he needed to.

“It’s the Ripper,” Will began. He paused. A brief whisper went through his mind: We are her fathers now.

* * *

They could be a real family.

“Can you see anything else? Why her? Why this victim?”

Will shook his head. “I can’t see anything that you can’t.”

Hannibal flipped the second half of the pile. It was information on adoption.

“Hannibal. I know.”

The expression on Hannibal’s face vanished. His fingers twitched toward the knife and then paused.

“And I thought,” Will continued on. He had come too far to stop now, “I thought that this might be a good time to get married. We can adopt Abigail, maybe get another dog or two, and really work on this family thing. You said we were her fathers now, and you’re right. We should really step up, officially adopt her, and –”

Hannibal stopped him with a hand over his mouth, his expression genial once more. “My dear Will. I would like nothing better than to build a family with you. However, perhaps we could wait on this. There are things we need to do first.” How like Hannibal, to enter so seamlessly into machinations that must have been so different from his own. “Purchase rings, for example. It is most unreasonable to propose without a ring, after all – one may even go so far as to say that it may be rude. Nonetheless, perhaps it is best if we pick them out together.”

Will nodded rapidly.

“We may also wish to speak to Abigail. She may have ideas about her place in the world, and she may not be ready for adoption.” There was no question that they would adopt her eventually. It was just a matter of when.

* * *

Will said nothing as Jack walked away. He’d felt like this before, when he realized what Abigail had done. He hadn’t told Jack anything then, either.

Will had been at Hannibal’s for many dinners, and the man had brought him lunch or snacks on many other occasions. All of them had been made with some kind of meat.

Surprisingly, Will only felt a mild measure of discomfort at the idea. The meals had all been delicious.

Will left the crime scene. He told Jack on his way out that he would be by after class the next day, but that he had to return home. Jack wasn’t pleased, but he waved Will off anyway.

How did one go about getting married? And could they actually adopt Abigail? She wasn’t exactly a child anymore. Still, it might be worth looking into.

* * *

Dinner was exquisite. Hannibal and Will discussed their plans: where they would get rings, when they wanted to get married, what kind of wedding they wanted (in truth, Will did not want a wedding, but Hannibal seemed rather set on it).

Throughout the entire meal, neither could keep small smiles off their faces. Will was getting the family he wanted. Sure, they had their quirks, but what family didn’t?

And Hannibal. Hannibal was the most pleased he could recall having been in quite some time. Will, dear Will, had come to him after all.

He would have to do something about Miriam Lass before they got married. And perhaps it was time to take Will to see someone about the encephalitis. But these minor housekeeping matters would keep. For now, he had a charming soon to be fiance to entertain over dinner.



End notes:

“So Hannibal, I was thinking.”

“No, Will.”

“You don’t know what I was going to say!”

“My dear Will. We have seven dogs. We do not need another one. Seven is a good number. It’s a prime number, and many consider it lucky. Eight would be a far less reasonable number.”

“We could definitely fit eight, though. And dogs are so well-behaved!”

“Oooh. If seven dogs is enough, which it totally is, sorry Will – can we get a cat?”

Hannibal and Will looked at their new daughter in poorly disguised horror.