#fannibals-buffet

[cnwarforged]

Finished present! This is for @hannibalsmurderbasement for @fannibals-buffet ‘s Fannibal Secret Exchange. My idea was a cute version of encephalitis? Sorry it’s late! Happy holidays~

[hannigramisforever]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

@fannibals-buffet #Fannibal Holiday Exchange

My giftee was @knowmefirst. I hope you enjoy your gift.

Summary:

“Are you attempting to dissuade me?” he whispers haltingly, mind reeling with the accuracy of the monster’s insight.

“Not at all,” Hannibal assures, baring his neck encouragingly. “You may begin when you’re ready.”

And with those supplicating words, Will’s motivation hits brick. Rearing back onto his knees to tower over the solid form lying beneath him with a dawning sense of horror.

He doesn’t want this game to end.

[fragile-teacup]

Fannibal Secret Exchange: Never Have I Ever

For the @fannibals-buffet Fannibal Secret Exchange I have written a 1000 word ficlet for @mferret9. It’s a fluffy Hannigram piece and I hope you enjoy it! :)

Note: For anyone currently reading my WIP long fic, The Marriage of Heaven and Hell, this is a post-Marriage timestamp. So you might want to avoid reading if you don’t want spoilers! I will post this fic here again, and on AO3, once the final chapter of Marriage is up.  

Never Have I Ever

'Never have I ever spent Christmas in Cuba.' 

On a secluded hillside, a luxurious villa of glass, steel and stone nestles amidst swaying palms. 

Through the front wall, made entirely of glass for the better enjoyment of the ocean view, moonlight casts soft shadows across the open plan living room. Will lounges at one end of a long beige sofa, legs stretched out in front of him, feet resting in Hannibal's lap. One arm is slung across the back of the sofa, the other resting on his thigh, wine glass in hand.

Hannibal smiles, raising his own glass to his lips. 'Nor I.'

Will sits bolt upright, hand shooting out to grab Hannibal's wrist. The glass wobbles precariously, ruby liquid almost spilling out. 'Uh uh! What do you think you're doing?'

Hannibal's brows shoot up. 'At this precise moment, attempting not to spill seventeen thousand dollar wine.'

Will rolls his eyes. His hand falls away and he leans back, regarding Hannibal with resigned affection. 

'You've never played it, have you?

'Played what?'

'Oh, this is going to be fun.'

A few minutes later, Hannibal apprised of the rules, Will begins again.

'Never have I ever murdered anyone in the Caribbean.'

When Hannibal takes a casual sip, Will's lips tighten. 

'Problem?'

'Well, that's kind of dependent on what I would find if I looked in our freezer right now.'

Hannibal grins. 'Relax, Will. It was a long time ago.'

'How long?' Still clipped. Doesn't want to hear that it's happened since they met. Somehow it would be like finding out about an ex-lover. It's a weird feeling. But a needless fear.

'Seven years. In point of fact, I had made the trip to inspect this plot of land. The realtor was late, and when finally he put in an appearance he made it abundantly clear that he did not care for my architectural designs.' Hannibal takes another sip. 'So naturally I incorporated him into them.'

A pause as Will digests this. A thought occurs.

'We're sitting on top of him, aren't we?'

'I'm afraid I can't be quite that specific but there's every chance.' Hannibal's eyes gleam maroon in the moonlight. 'Is it my turn now?' 

Will huffs a laugh, toes digging in to Hannibal's thighs as he uses the leverage to push himself up, to sit a little straighter. 'By all means, Doctor.'

He knows from the dusting of pink across Hannibal's cheekbones that his use of the title, rare these days, has pleased him. Will means to please him. His eyes linger on his husband, impossibly handsome in eggshell button down and black slacks, shirtsleeves rolled up, top two buttons unfastened at his neck. Relaxed, lazy, the predator at rest. Hannibal pauses, head tilted slightly, considering. His words, when they come, roll across his tongue with sensuous intent.

'Never have I ever drunk wine from another's lips.'

Will has yet to taste the obscenely-priced Burgundy but his heart thuds at the decadent notion. Finds that he likes it. Finds himself uncoiling, shifting his feet, sliding across the couch to plant denim-clad knees on either side of Hannibal's thighs. A slow smile.

'Know what? Neither have I.' 

Slides his free hand across Hannibal's chest, up to the neckline of his shirt. Deftly slips free another two buttons and bends, nosing across the exposed collarbone. 

'Should we rectify that situation?' 

Enjoys Hannibal's quiet moan of pleasure and closes his eyes. Moves up, sighing against Hannibal's skin, blowing gently on his neck. Feels a hand grasp him at the nape and grins, eyes fluttering open to find himself pinned by Hannibal's hot, glittering gaze only inches away.

'Unless you wish the game to end this instant, I suggest you take your turn.'

'Mm.' Eyes narrowed in pleasure as fingers stroke softly through his hair. 'Let's see. Never have I ever... had someone say 'I love you' first.'

The gentlest sting to his words, remembering how long it had taken for Hannibal to say it back after Will's first breathless confession.

Yet to his bemusement he finds the hand holding his glass being guided to his lips, amused eyes holding his as Hannibal orders, 'Drink.'

Places his hand over the rim, gaze searching. 'Seriously? Come on. You said it first? When?'

'The night of the charity gala in Buenos Aires, as you slept.'

'As I... Are you kidding?' The night of the gala, when they had finally become lovers. Just one night before Will had plucked up the courage to blurt out his feelings. And a full week before Hannibal had deigned to reciprocate.

A smirk. 'Sweet boy, I told you over and over. And how beautifully you smiled as still you slumbered on.'

A memory stirs. Sated and sleepy, yet restless in the newness of their intimacy. A restlessness  soothed by words whispered against his skin, permeating his very soul with an unaccountable warmth. Unaccountable, that is, until now.

A benign manipulation perhaps but still...

Old habits, it seems, die hard.

'Hannibal.' A low growl. Takes a mouthful of the wine. Grips the front of Hannibal's shirt and pulls him in. Presses their mouths together, lips parting and closing as he feeds the silky liquid in a slow release to Hannibal. A succession of greedy kisses follow, Hannibal's tongue stroking against his, chasing the last drops of wine. By the time they come up for air they're both hard, Will squirming against Hannibal, gasping at the tight press of their bodies. Rubbing slow against each other, eyes glazed, lost in mutual affection. Besotted, adoring.

A muffled whining and faint scratching breaks into their idyll.

'I’m going to let Ceph in now,' Will breathes against Hannibal's lips, stained red like his. 

'And then?' Another kiss. Quick. Hard.

'And then I'm taking you to bed.'

'And then?' Another.

'And then I'm taking you.'

The game, barely begun, over now. But a final thought as Will snares Hannibal's hand and together they stumble to the back door. 

Never have I ever regretted falling with you.

[hyperfashionist]

Fannibal Holiday Exchange: The Night Before Christmas

A Very Special Murder Family Episode

This is my gift to @thesilverqueenlady in the @fannibals-buffet Fannibal Holiday Exchange. It is a fix-it fic for Season Two, with major canon divergence, and some liberties taken with the timeline. There is also an offscreen guest appearance by another Fullerverse character.

====================================

’Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the house Not a creature was stirring, not even a Lass. The legs had been hung in the pantry with care, In hopes that Jack Crawford soon would be there.

The trainees were shackled all snug in their beds, While visions of Chilton danced in their heads. Alana in my shirt, I in my surgeon’s mask Had just settled our brains for a one-sided nap.

When down in the kitchen arose such a clatter, I sent Abigail to see what was the matter. And out through the window Alana did crash, Tore open the shutters and shattered the glass.

The moon on the glint of her newly-spilt blood Gave a fine sheen of black to my ex in the mud. But what hove into view as I stood there agog? A miniature sled, pulled by eight mongrel dogs.

With a scruffy smol driver, so hellbent on mayhem, I knew in a moment it must be Will Graham. More rapid than eagles his trackers they came, And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name!

“Now Winston! now, Buster! now, Applesauce! Jack! “On, Harley, On, Ellie! on, Zoe and Max! “To the base of the basement! the top of the wall! “Now dash around! Dash around! Dash around all!”

As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly, When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky. So in through the chimney the trackers they flew, To the scent of their quarry, and Will Graham too.

And then, in a twinkling, I heard underfoot The yapping and barking of each little mutt. As I drew in my head, and was turning around, Up from the cellar came Katz with a bound.

She had vertical lines from her head to her foot, But she walked and she talked as the living Katz could. “The cup came together, and time did go back, “You got what you wanted, you silly sad sack.”

Will’s eyes- how they twinkled! His dimples how merry! His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry! His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow, As he smirked “She’s come back - you’re truly a schmo.”

Cooking lessons, it seemed, were the key to Bev’s health, And I laughed when I saw her, in spite of myself! A pieman had taught Will the tricks of his trade, I couldn’t quite grasp it, but I wasn’t afraid.

He spoke not a word, but went straight to the house, And led out dear Abigail meek as a mouse. And laying his finger aside of his nose, And reaching his hand to Alana, she rose.

Then Will sprang to his sled, to his team gave a whistle, The Murder Family fled, like the down of a thistle. And here’s our refrain, as we drive out of sight, “Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good-night!”