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It was a chance meeting, something that really shouldn’t have happened. They lived in two completely different worlds at least, that’s the impression they gave people. An overly educated, expressively European surgeon with too many qualifications, and a Louisiana cop who, although bright and more than capable, grew up in squalor. Who would’ve thought they’d meet at a rundown shitty little gas station that was about to get robbed?
The gas station was a typical pitstop, surrounded by nothing but trees and an expanse of road. Its sign had serval missing letters and the air was filled with the scent of instant coffee and grease and a pinch of hillbillies. The shelves were sparsely stocked with junk food, premade sandwiches and faded magazines, while a lonely hot dog roller buzzed in the background.
Will was tired and upset, but mostly he was hungry. He didn’t make a habit of taking care of himself as much as he should, but once in a while, he’d indulge in cheap hot dogs and questionable gas station coffee. The coffee machine beeped expectantly at him as he took his brew and headed to the register. In front of him stood a very annoyed-looking man, prim and proper, someone who looked almost comically out of place in a rural, rundown gas station. The posh man’s eyes scanned the other customers with thinly veiled disdain. To Will, it seemed like he was wearing a person mask, but it was too early to properly clip it on. The man’s eyes landed on Will, who ducked his head to avoid eye contact and small talk. In his peripheral vision, he saw the posh man smile, perhaps in amusement. Was he making fun of him? Did he do something weird? Will frowned and glanced at himself in the nearest reflection. He looked as tired as he felt and was wearing his uniform—it was ironed and crisp, so it couldn’t be that. His superior always insisted, "You can’t patrol the streets if you look crumpled up piece of paper." Will snarked internally that his job was to catch criminals, not walk the runway, but he heeded his supervisor’s advice.
Before he could further contemplate his coworker Batista’s annoying habits, he heard gunshots. Instinctively, he ducked.
“CLEAR OUT THE CASH REGISTERS NOW,” bellowed a gruff voice. A man wearing a sock mask held up a pistol. The cashier, a young girl who looked about seventeen, stood there, mouth agape, in shock.
“I SAID FUCKING CLEAR OUT THE CASH REGISTERS BEFORE I SHOOT THIS PLACE UP,” the man yelled.
Will’s eyes fixed on the perp, who was fixated on the cashier. No partner, seemed like a rookie, he was very young, likely down on his luck, probably owed some bad people some bad money. The man raised his hand and shot at the ceiling. Gasps and shrieks filled the gas station and the girl at the register started counting the bills. The other customers huddled behind the aisles. The posh man crouched next to the magazine stand, looking more annoyed than scared, like someone had forgotten to add ice to his drink. Will exhaled. The young robber had made several crucial mistakes—first, no partner; second, he had zeroed in on the cashier, forgetting about the other customers; and third, Will was in his blind spot. Inhale, exhale, tackle and subdue.
Will put a lot of force into the tackle, knocking the man down. The perp unloaded two bullets into the ceiling, causing some customers to shriek, but Will managed to push the pistol away; it skidded towards the posh man. Will had a knee on the robber’s face, keeping him down. Nice and easy, no one got hurt—except there was a sharp pain in his leg. The perp had managed to free one hand and stab Will in the thigh. He hissed in pain and swore before delivering a swift punch that knocked the guy unconscious. He cuffed the robber for good measure. The knife was still in his leg, and it hurt. He really didn’t want extra paramedic bills—this wasn’t his day. He was sure someone had already called the cops and an ambulance, but it would take a while to get here. This was a pitstop between towns, hard to navigate and get to.
“Is someone a doctor?” a concerned citizen yelled, probably noticing the knife jutting from Will’s leg.
The posh man stood up—of course, he was a doctor. Even looked like a doctor. He made his way towards Will. “Let me have a look.”
He crouched down, assessing the situation. He was already wearing latex gloves - where did he pull those from? Will wondered. “I’ll have to cut around the pants. Is that alright?” the man asked. His voice was pleasant, with a bit of an accent Will couldn’t place. Slavic no baltic. Seemed like a baltic accent. He noticed that the doctor had not moved- ah he was waiting for Will to say something.
Will nodded, feeling awkward. “Oh yeah, um, you have my permission. Proceed.”
The posh doctor narrowed his gaze to the injury. And Will tried to fight the embarrassment he fellt. “Normally, you wouldn’t want to remove the knife just yet. It’s important to keep it in to minimize bleeding and prevent further damage. However, if the blade hasn’t hit a major artery or bone, we can remove it carefully. Let me check.”
Will gritted his teeth as the doctor gently pressed around the wound, feeling for any abnormalities. “It’s clear. The knife hasn’t hit anything vital,” the doctor concluded. “But you’ll need stitches and antibiotics to prevent infection.”
Will nodded again. The doctor maintained eye contact. “This will sting.”
That was attractive- wait what? With steady hands, he quickly removed the knife, applying pressure immediately to stem the bleeding. He used a sterile cloth from his kit to clean the wound before wrapping it tightly.
“You’re lucky it was shallow— but it will need to be disinfected and stitched,” the posh man- doctor said.
“Do I have to go to the hospital?” Will interrupted. The posh doctor started, “It would be best—”
Will looked horrified at the prospect which made the man pause. “But I can do it at my home. I live nearby and have the equipment. I would be glad to repay my debt to you for saving my life.”
Will gawked at him. “My shift starts soon,” he muttered, then added, “But I should probably let my boss know I won’t be coming in due to a savier case of being stabbed.”
“I believe that would be for the best,” the man added. “I apologize, where are my manners? My name is Dr. Hannibal Lecter.”
Will blinked and squinted. “Hannibal, like the, uh, warlord?”
“Pardon?” the man replied, eyes smiling.
“Oh, uh—”
“Ah, I suppose you’re right. Like the general,” the man chuckled.
“Will. Will Graham. My name is Will Graham,” Will bumbled out.
“Pleasure to meet you, Will.” The posh man—Dr. Hannibal Lecter—sounded genuinely pleased.
The patrons thanked Will for his bravery, and the police arrived soon after. To his luck it was his coworkers—they clapped him on the back and remarked that Will was lucky to be stabbed because their boss was doing inventory today. It didn’t take much convincing for Will to go to Hannibal’s house. Normally, you shouldn’t go to a stranger’s house, but Will was tired, didn’t like hospitals, and figured there was only a 50% chance Dr. Lecter was a serial killer. So far, he’d been lucky with the task of not dying, so he didn’t mind testing that luck today again.
Hannibal was courteous and a true gentleman, caring for Will’s wound with profound care. Now, Will was sitting in a very comfortable dark red chair, nursing whiskey older than him. His wound was stitched, and he was content.
“I’m curious, what made you pick such a dangerous job, Mr. Graham? May I call you Will?”
“Oh, sure, if I can call you Hannibal.” Will paused. “I’m good at catching criminals.”
“Is that so?” Hannibal inquired.
Will flashed a crooked grin. Hannibal thought he looked charming little ferret or a mongoose and he immediately fellt the need to smile back. “Every case I’m assigned, I solve. So I’d like to think I’m good at it. What made you choose to be a doctor?”
“I suppose my reasoning is much the same as yours, Will. I’m good at what I do.” he really wasn't gloating it was true, hannibal was remarkable with his hands.
That made Will curious as he looked at Hannibal with half lidded eyes. “Not any altruistic reason? No need to save people?”
“No, I’m not like that. You didn’t mention a need to do that as well, so I suppose we’re quite similar.”
Will chuckled into his glass. “Saving people comes as a bonus, not a requirement.”
Hannibal grinned. “Much the same in my field.”
Will gaped. “You’re a doctor. It’s your job to save lives.”
“As is your purpose. You protect lives and save them. Is it wrong that my mindset is the same?”
“No, I mean, I don’t think so. Seems callous, though.”
Hannibal avoided responding to that statement and chose to adress something he had noticed instead.
“You avoid looking into people’s eyes.”
“I see too many things in them,” Will sighed.
Without missing a beat Hannibal asked “Are you seeing anyone?”
Will spluttered. “Uh, no, why do you ask?” He was blushing now which Hannibal found even more charming. He couldn't wait to absolutely ruin the man.
“Because I find you interesting and would like to take you out on a date if you’re not opposed.”
“Very direct, Doctor.” Dodgy little man that Will Graham was. He had averted his eyes again trying hard to find anything else to looo at in the room.
“I tend to be.” Hannibal leaned in on his own chair his gaze unwavering. It was a bit unnerving.
“I’m not sure I see the appeal—what you get out of this.” Will questioned
“You seem to be an interesting individual, and I find you quite beautiful.”
Will laughed. “I’ve never been called beautiful. Interesting, sure, but more in a weird way. Like some oddity or freak of nature.” Hannibal’s eyes softened a bit at that.
“You undervalue your worth. You see too much of everything and base your self-worth on how others view you.”
“Sure you’re not a shrink?”
“I am thinking of changing professions,” Hannibal mused.
“You’d be good at it, I think. But you’re a bit cold in your delivery, so maybe work on that.”
“You still haven’t answered my question.”
“Oh, um, yeah, I’d like to go on a date. You seem nice.”
Hannibal smiled even more at Will's response, a glint of satisfaction in his eyes. "Im glad I seem nice. Since you're not in a condition to walk around much, how about we have dinner here? Unless, of course, you have somewhere else to be."
Will chuckled. "Considering I just got stabbed and need to let my boss know I won't be in for my shift, staying put sounds like a good idea."
"Perfect," Hannibal replied smoothly. "Allow me to prepare something special for us. Make yourself comfortable."
As Hannibal moved to the kitchen, Will settled back into the plush chair, nursing the whiskey Hannibal had poured for him. The room was impeccably decorated, bookshelves lined the walls, filled with volumes on a variety of subjects, although most of it seemed like medical books, and a harpsichord sat in the corner, adding an air of sophistication.
Will's phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen, his expression shifting to one of irritation. "My boss."
"You should answer," Hannibal advised from the kitchen. "Let him know you’re in good hands."
Will nodded and answered the call. "Yeah, Batista...I’m fine. No, I won’t be in for my shift tonight. Got stabbed. Yeah, seriously...I’m with a doctor...No, not at the hospital. I’ll be fine. I’ll call you later. No the report is- Fine. Ok. I'll have it finished on Monday."
He hung up and sighed. "He’s not happy."
Hannibal's voice floated in from the kitchen, calm and composed. "Then let's make the most of the evening. What do you prefer, beef or lamb?"
Will thought for a moment. "Lamb, if it's not too much trouble."
"Not at all. It will be ready shortly."
Will watched as Hannibal moved with practiced ease, his hands skillfully preparing the meal. The aroma of spices and roasting meat soon filled the air, making Will's stomach growl. He shifted slightly, feeling the dull throb in his leg but trying to focus on the pleasant environment and Hannibals presence in the kitchen.
Hannibal returned with a plate of appetizers: thin slices of cured meat, artisan cheese, and olives. He set the platter on the coffee table and poured more whiskey for both of them.
"An amuse-bouche to start," Hannibal said, handing Will a small plate. "To whet the appetite."
Will took a bite, savoring the rich flavors. "This is incredible. Do you cook often?"
"Every chance I get," Hannibal replied, "It is a necessity and an art form, wouldn't you agree?"
Will nodded. "I usually stick to simpler stuff. Nothing like this. Craft mac and cheese."
Hannibal paused, a look of disbelief crossing his face. "Mac and cheese from a box? Surely you're joking, Will."
Will laughed at Hannibal's reaction. "I don't exactly have the time or the skill for gourmet cooking."
Hannibal shook his head in mock horror. "Perhaps I can teach you a few things."
As they chatted, Hannibal continued preparing the main course. The lamb, when it arrived, was perfectly cooked, served with a side of roasted vegetables Will didnt recognize and a rich, savory red sauce.
"This is amazing," Will said between bites.
"Thank you, Will."
The conversation flowed easily, touching on various topics. Will found himself opening up more than he usually did, drawn in by Hannibal's genuine interest and the comfortable atmosphere. Hannibal liked how easily Will kept up with him and found that he really didnt find these conversations taxing.
As they finished their meal, Hannibal cleared the plates and returned with a dessert: a delicate chocolate mousse with a hint of orange.
Will took a bite and closed his eyes, savoring the rich, velvety texture. "This is perfect. You’ve really outdone yourself."
Hannibal’s eyes gleamed with satisfaction. "I’m glad you're enjoying it."
Leaning back in his chair, Will sighed contentedly. "You know, this has been one of the strangest days I’ve had in a long time. But it’s also been one of the best."
Hannibal’s smile was warm. "I’m pleased to hear that, Will. I hope it’s the first of many such evenings." A hint of smugness and suggestiveness hid behind those lines.
"Yeah, I’d like that."
Hannibal stood and extended his hand. "Shall we move to the living room? We can continue our conversation there."
Will took Hannibal's hand and stood, carefully balancing on his good leg. They moved to the living room, where Hannibal helped him settle onto a comfortable couch. The fire crackled in the fireplace, casting a warm glow around the room.
Hannibal leaned back, his gaze studying Will with a mix of curiosity and amusement. “You know, Will, I must admit, i was curious about you when i first noticed you. But I never imagined we'd end up like this.”
Will chuckled, a bit self-conscious. “Yeah, getting stabbed wasn’t exactly on my to-do list either. But I’ve had worse first dates.”
Hannibal raised an eyebrow, a playful glint in his eye. “This counts as a date, then?”
Will shrugged, smirking. “Well, you did feed me, fix me up, and now we’re having drinks by a cozy fire. Sounds like a pretty good date to me.”
“Then I shall strive to impress you even more next time,” Hannibal said with a slight bow of his head.
Will took another sip of his whiskey, feeling more relaxed than he had in a long time. “So, Hannibal, do you often invite injured strangers to your home for dinner, or am I just special?”
Hannibal’s lips curled into a smile. “You are indeed special, Will. I usually prefer my guests to arrive unscathed, but I’m willing to make exceptions for intriguing company.”
“Good to know I’m an exception,” Will said, laughing. “I’m curious, though. You seem like a man of many talents. Any other hidden skills I should know about?”
Hannibal leaned forward, his eyes twinkling. “Well, I do play the harpsichord. Perhaps I could give you a private concert sometime.” smooth, doctor. . Smooth
Will’s eyes widened. “A doctor, a chef, and a musician? You’re full of surprises, Hannibal. Whats the catch?”
“I aim to keep things interesting,” Hannibal replied smoothly. “And what about you, Will? Any hidden talents?”
Will scratched his head, thinking. “I can do a pretty decent impression of my boss. He’s got this gruff, no-nonsense voice that’s fun to mimic. Oh, and I’m pretty good at fixing things around the house. Grew up having to do a lot of that.”
“Practical skills are always valuable,” Hannibal said approvingly. “And I’d very much like to hear your impression of your boss.”
Will grinned. “Alright, but you have to promise not to laugh too hard.”
Hannibal crossed his heart solemnly. “I promise.”
Clearing his throat, Will put on a serious face and lowered his voice. “Graham, you can’t just go around getting stabbed whenever you feel like it. We have protocols, damn it!”
Hannibal’s laugh was a rich, warm sound that made Will feel fuzzy. “I can almost picture the man. You’ve certainly brightened my evening, Will.”
Will beamed, feeling a warmth that had nothing to do with the fire. “Glad I could entertain you, Hannibal.”
Eventually, Hannibal glanced at the clock and sighed. “It’s getting quite late. I wouldn’t want to keep you up, especially considering the day you’ve had.”
Will stretched, feeling the pleasant fatigue of a long, enjoyable evening. “Yeah, I should probably get some rest. Don’t want to push my luck after getting stabbed.”
"Perhaps you'd like to stay the night?" Hannibal suggested softly, his eyes holding a warm invitation.
Will hesitated, caught in Hannibal's gaze that seemed to promise more than just a place to sleep. "Are you sure it’s alright?"
A tender smile curved Hannibal's lips. "Of course, Will. There's a guest room prepared. You can rest there tonight, and I'll drive you back to your home tomorrow. It's Saturday, after all, and neither of us has a shift."
Feeling a rush of relief mingled with something deeper, Will took Hannibal's hand. “Thanks, Hannibal.”
He glanced down, and coyly asked "I suppose this is the end of the date- don't suppose we end it like that?"
Hannibal's presence was intoxicating "I believe endings are as important as beginnings, Will. If you're asking for a goodnight kiss, I would be delighted to oblige."
A blush tinted Will's cheeks, but he smiled back, "I wouldn't mind that."
With a graceful movement, Hannibal leaned in, his touch gentle yet purposeful as he pressed a kiss to Will's lips. It was a moment charged with tenderness it made Will close his eyes, cherishing the sensation, a rush of warmth spreading through him.
When they parted, Hannibal held Will's gaze, his eyes sparkling with affection. After a moment, he stood up, still smiling softly. "Rest well, Will. I'll show you to the guest room."
Will nodded, his heart lighter. "Thank you, Hannibal."
As Hannibal led him down the hall, Will fellt happy he had met this man in the gas station. And Hannibal was glad that the swine he had been hunting made him turn into the gas station.