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“Father,” Abigail said, pulling herself up onto a chair on the counter in the kitchen, propping herself up on her elbows. “May I ask you and Papa a question?”
“Of course, tesora,” Hannibal smiled, chopping scallions to go into the broth Will was stirring. “What is on your lovely mind?”
“There’s this boy in my class that I like. Should I stab him or kiss him?” she asked, picking a piece of carrot from the cutting board and nibbling on it.
Will dropped his spoon right into the broth and turned around, surprised. Hannibal paused for a moment, then set the knife down carefully, before coming out from around the counter and sitting beside her.
“His name is Robespierre,” Abigail offered, kicking her feet against the chair, looking up with an absolutely devious little smile and twirling a braid with her fingers.
“Well, darling, we should never kiss someone unless you have permission, he said seriously, taking her hand. “You could always give a small nick or scratch to see if they're interested. Of course, though, you should save gutting for someone... very special,” he said with a heated look sent in Will’s direction. Will winked back.
Abigail nodded. “Father, can Robespierre come over and play?”
“Of course, tesora,” he smiled, kissing her on the forehead. “We’ll call his parents.”
She squealed and jumped off the chair. “I’m going to tell Beverly!” And raced off to tell her. Will sighed, leaning against the counter.
“Abigail is nine, darling. She’s too young to like a boy. Or a girl. Or frankly, anything.”
“Caro mio,” Hannibal grinned, standing up and putting an arm around his husband’s waist. “Abigail can handle herself. If not, we will. This Robespierre, he’s the Tudor boy, the new family in the Caballus Club, you know, we were in Italy when they joined. And come now, it’s just a social call, dearest, nothing much at all. I’ll even make it up to you.”
Will pursed his lips in mock thought. “All right. But I’m going fishing Saturday morning, have them come later that day.”
“Of course,” Hannibal nearly purred, leaning in for a kiss. Will pushed him back with one finger, smiling up at him. “Darling, your broth’s going to burn a hole through the stove.”
Abigail peered through her telescope from her room and gasped in excitement. “Beverly, he’s here! Robespierre and his parents!”
A book was thrown against the wall in agreement.
“How do I look?” Abigail asked, turning around in her new black dress. A cold breeze tucked a braid back behind her ear.
“Thank you, Beverly," she grinned before gathering up her supplies. The entire family and taken her aside, one by one, and given her advice. Hannibal had given her a new knife after a dance lesson; Will had simply stated given her a bear trap and told her "good hunting"; Alana and Margot had squealed over the prospect of Abigail having a boy around and had give her a pretty new dress like theirs for her to wear, and a stick of dynamite for good luck; Bedelia and Jack told her she looked lovely, and Jack had given her a pouch of powder he called 'love dust.'
She had approached Frederick last. "What advice do you have, Frederick?"
He had just groaned, which made her give him a hug out of relief, as it was becoming difficult to carry everything.
“Winston,” Will laughed, shaking his head in mock annoyance at the dog. “Give me back the postman’s hand, I’ve told you to stop digging them back up again.”
Winston dropped the hand in front of him, then rolling over happily. Will chuckled and rubbed his belly a bit before straightening back up. He was still in his fishing gear, as it had been such a nice morning, he’d gone down for some fishing. Caught quite a few, he wondered if he’d have time to clean them before the Tudors arrived.
Will scratched Winston’s head one more time before heading towards the house to change for the company. He hadn’t gotten more than a few steps when the gate door banged open and the Tudors came bustling through. He specifically heard Mrs. Tudor remake that it seemed quite early to decorate for Halloween when it had just turned to September three days ago.
Early , Will thought. Still, he made his way over the family. He smiled and extended a hand. “Hello, I’m-”
“Oh, how nice of the Lecters to give jobs to the... less fortunate,” Mr. Tudor said offhandedly, looking over him with disdain, taking off his coat and handing it to Will. “I’ll thank you not to get it dirty, it probably costs more than you make in a year.”
“I beg your pardon, but-”
Mrs. Tudor and Robespierre did the same before heading towards the front door.
Will stood their with his mouth half open in the yard as Frederick let them into the house before coming outside to Will.
“Sir?” he said gruffly, extending a hand for the coats.
“Oh, yes, Frederick, thank you,” Will said, a small smile creeping across his face. “I’m going to take off my equipment in the mudroom before meeting our guests .”
“Jeffrey,” Sandra Tudor hisses, creeping around the frighteningly large bear rug in the living room. “These decorations are hideous.”
“Sandra, you know that the Lecters are figureheads of the club, Francis Dolarhyde is another high up, he claims they are good friends, we get in the Lecters, we get in higher at the Caballus. At least try to not convince them to let you decorate for them,” Jefferey shot back as Robespierre snooped around the antiques. Sandra opened her mouth to snark back when a… figure descended from the top of the stairs. Tall, blonde, with a glass of what should be wine but honestly looked like blood.
“Hannibal, your guests are here," she called out before looking them all over with a cold glare. "You must be the Tudors,” she stated, sounding bored with this whole affair. “What a pleasure.”
“The pleasure is all ours,” Sandra said eagerly. “Are- are you Mrs. Lecter?”
“No, Mrs. Lecter was the matriarch, she died.”
“Oh, I'm terribly sorry then. Passed away, has she?
The woman appeared to physically hold back an eyeroll as she sat down on an incredibly ornate chair. “No, she hasn’t gone anywhere, she’s just dead. And you, young man, please don’t touch the bear head, it bites.”
Robespierre jumped back as Sandra exchanged a look with Jefferey before saying with a plastered-on smile, “Oh, then you must be Dr. Lecter’s wife.”
All three Tudors nearly jumped a foot in the air as the mysterious woman cackled, not loudly, but the way fairytale witches do before catching a poor soul in their clutches. She was still cackling as a taller man came into room, drying his hands with a handkerchief before placing it neatly back into his pocket and raising an eyebrow at her.
“You would have been my wife, Bedelia, had your brother not interfered during the ceremony,” he said in a teasing tone. She raised an eyebrow back and made a mock toast.
“And thank g od for that.” And took a sip.
The man turned back, a hand extended for a shake. “Forgive me for not meeting you at the door, I was preparing the meat for dinner tonight. I’m Dr. Hannibal Lecter, you must be the Tudors.”
“Yes,” Jeffrey interjected, shaking his hand a little too quickly. “I’m Jeffrey Tudor, that’s my wife Sandra, our boy Robespierre. Come here, Robespierre.”
The boy came closer and tried to smile at his hosts as Hannibal looked him over.
“He certainly does look it,” he stated, more to himself than anyone else before calling up the stairs. “Abigail, tesora , Robespierre and his family are here.”
Immediately afterwards a little girl came practically flying down the stairs, pigtail braids flopping like mad. After a hug for Bedelia and her father, she turned and did a neat curtsey before blowing the powder in her little bag right in his face. His started coughing as hsi parents looked at her in alarm.
"What's that, darling?" Hannibal inquired, a twinkle in his eye.
"Love dust," she shrugged. Hannibal had laughed.
"Children, so precocious."
Abigail turned back to her object of affection. “
How do you do, Robespierre? Would you like to play a game?” she said sweetly, a perfect smile on her face. The Tudors were impressed even if Robespierre wasn’t. He sighed before his father gave him a look that said, ‘don’t screw this up for us.’
“Fine,” he sighed, “What do you wanna play?”
“How about Is There a God? ” she asked, a bright smile on her face.
The parents’ eyes shot wide open in shock, and even more so when neither Hannibal nor Bedelia seemed particularly concerned.
“No!” Robespierre declared.
“Do you want to play with my tarantula?”
“No!”
“How about my Auntie Alana’s train set? It’s so big, it takes up half the room.”
“Go play with the trains, dear,” Sandra said, pushing her boy forward. He groaned a little.
“Fine.”
Abigail smiled as she led him up the stairs to the train room. Hannibal smiled up after her before turning to the parents.
“She's a wonderful girl, isn't she? Would you care for some tea? I’ve just finished a batch of ladyfingers, I’ll ring for Frederick.”
Hannibal had just stood up to pull the rope when Will came out of the mudroom. He’d taken off the grimy fishing vest, but his worn flannel shirt and jeans with jagged tears down the seams were still on. Will didn’t miss the exasperated expressions of the Tudors or their confusion at how absolutely delighted Hannibal looked to see him but paid them no mind, simply putting on his most devilish smile while running a hand through his messy curls.
“Hannibal-”
He wasn’t able to continue as Hannibal had crossed the room in seemingly three strides and had pulled him into his arms for a deep, passionate kiss.
Bedelia just let out a heavy sigh, taking another long sip as she closed her eyes and played Lucia di Lammermoor in her head. Much better, she thought, knowing the Tudors’ eyes were practically bugging out of their skulls.
It was a long kiss, but eventually they broke apart. Hannibal turned to the guests, looking elated as he had Will’s waist in an iron grip.
“Ah, Jeffrey, Sandra, this is my husband , Will.”
The look on their faces was one Will wanted captured forever, the smug satisfaction couldn’t be kept out of his voice.
“It’s so nice to meet both of you,” he smirked, reaching out a hand. Jeffrey meekly shook it.
“Darling,” Will murmured, patting Hannibal’s arm so he would let go. “Excuse me, I’m going upstairs. I’m afraid I still look like I’ve been out fishing, and I wouldn’t want to give our guests the wrong impression. I’ll only be a moment.” He sealed this promise with a quick kiss to the cheek and walked straight past the Tudors and up the stairs, only pausing when an explosion rang out.
“Abigail,” he called up, “Too much sulfur in the gunpowder. You must have Alana look at it for you.” And he vanished into one of the rooms upstairs.
As Will disappeared upstairs, Hannibal smiled after him before turning to the Tudors. He opened his mouth to say something when a noise came from the kitchen. It sounded like- like gasping . Hannibal closed his mouth and a flash of annoyance went across his expression.
“Excuse me a moment,” he smiled. “Dinner is rather difficult tonight.” He left the room and went to kitchen, and after a few more sounds like pounding, the noise stopped, and the oven door was heard closing.
Sandra looked frantically over at Bedelia, who merely took a sip of wine and gestured for them to have a seat in the frankly odd-looking loveseat. “Oh, we- we weren’t aware that your, uh-”
“Brother.”
“Brother, yes, of course, was married to Dr. Lecter. The honeymoon stage, remember that, Jeffery?” she laughed, her husband laughed as well. “Those were the days.”
Bedelia didn’t hold back her eyeroll this time. “They’ve been married for eleven years, this is paradise compared to their honeymoon phase.”
Sandra choked on her next few words, adjusting her necklace. Jeffrey chose to play with his tie while they waited.
Hannibal came back in from the kitchen, Frederick trailing behind him with the tea tray. At the same time, Will came downstairs, dressed in his usual attire of a black silk dress shirt and black dress pants, and Hannibal beamed as he pulled him in for a thankfully quick kiss this time before Will sat on the couch.
“Tea?” he offered the guests, mixing Will’s for him before handing him the cup. “It’s wolfsbane.”
Jeffrey shot a quick look and Sandra and swallowed hard. “Of- of course, it’s very- interesting.”
They were each handed a cup of tea and a spoon. The spoon was melting into the tea as she stirred it.
“Now,” Hannibal said, taking a seat beside Will on the couch, his arm settling in its usual spot around Will’s shoulders. “How are you enjoying the Caballus Club? It’s our personal favorite.”
“Well, I’ve truly enjoyed the dinner last Wednesday,” Jeffery agreed eagerly, forcing himself to relax and smile. “And Sandra absolutely loved the psychic readings, she just adores the supernatural, don’t you, dear?”
She forced herself to smile back. “Yes.”
“Wonderful,” Will smiled. “Beverly, would you give Mrs. Tudor more tea?”
The teapot lifted and poured into Sandra’s cup. She nearly dropped it in shock.
“Thank you, Beverly,” Will said to seemingly no one, taking a sip of tea. The lights flickered.
BAM!
Jeffrey jumped straight out of the loveseat, nearly spilling the tea all over his wife’s cream blouse. “What- what the hell was that?”
Will simply turned his head upwards towards the staircase. “Abigail, darling, please don’t slam the trapdoor shut, Alana just greased it yesterday.”
“T-trap d-door?” Sandra sputtered, her teacup shaking in her had.
“Yes, it leads to the one of her playrooms. She just adores it, there’s plenty of space for her toys there.”
“You- you leave her down in a trapdoor?”
“Oh, not to worry,” Hannibal smiled, setting down his teacup and reaching for a ladyfinger. “She does prefer to take her pet for walks in the cave.”
“The- the tarantula?”
“Oh no, Lucy doesn’t like to wander about. Mina, her cobra, she’s the one that enjoys wandering about.”
Sandra pulled her feet up of the ground and looked around in fear. Will’s smile was the pettiest little smile she had ever seen as he leaned against his husband’s arm. “But don’t worry, Sandra, she always sleeps in the afternoons on Abigail’s pillow.”
At that exact moment, Jack came up from the cave and cut through the living room on the way to the mudroom.
“Well, I finally beat that darned alligator.”
“Olé,” Hannibal declared, grinning. “About time, you’ve been at it for months.”
Jack eagerly shook both of the Tudors’ hands, and they could only stare in disbelief at the man who looked as though he was rolling around in the dirt for days.
After that exchange, it became slightly more peaceful. The Tudors were eager to talk about Robespierre as a distraction and Abigail was a favorite topic of her fathers. Other than Bedelia’s offhanded comment on cleaning out the fridge for more groceries that was met with an amused look from Hannibal and an eyeroll from Will that didn’t make much sense, it seemed as though the visit might be a little better than originally thought.
Until Jeffery made the error of trying to butter up to Hannibal by stating that, “We got into the club on the word of Francis Dolarhyde, you know he-”
His words died in his throat at the look of utter contempt on Will’s face and the completely blank expression on Hannibal’s. “You, uh, you are associated with Francis Dolarhyde, correct?”
“Certainly not,” Will practically sneered. “I wouldn’t have that man in this house.”
That appeared to have been the final straw as Sandra broke into a peal of hysterical laughter. “We- we’ve been in this- this menagerie for nothing. Nothing, Jeffery!”
As soon as the word menagerie left her lips, the entire living room seemed to shake. Beverly tended to get touchy when someone insulted the house. The staghead fell right off the mantle above the fireplace and the chandelier descended rapidly from the ceiling at a pace that both Tudors tipped over themselves running away from the love chair and screamed.
“Not the chandelier, Beverly,” Hannibal chided, which brought the chandelier to a screeching halt. “I need that.”
Sandra finally dropped her teacup, smashing it to pieces on the carpet, gasping out in complete terror as the room’s temperature dropped to what felt like freezing. Unable to move, she screamed out, “ROBESPIERRE!”
She made a move for the staircase when a loud sob came from the top of the stairs and her son came racing out of the the upstairs room into her arms.
“Oh my god, what have they done to you?”
“She wanted to put me in the guillotine!” he cried, tears streaking down his face. “And just because my name’s Robespierre!”
She grabbed her son by the hand and shot a pleading look for sympathy towards Will and Hannibal. Hannibal had a look of amusement on his face while Will had that damn shit-eating grin on his face as he sipped his tea. So Jeffrey took her hand and dragged his wife and son out of the house, pausing for a moment at the door as Frederick appeared from nowhere with their coats and Miriam holding out Jeffery's hat. They dashed out the front door, and everyone in the living room could hear the gate slamming shut behind them.
“Well,” Will sighed out, setting down his teacup. “That’s that.”
Suddenly it dawned on both of them and they looked at each other. “Oh no, Abigail’s going to be brokenhearted, what do we-”
Abigail skipped down the stairs, clutching Marie Antoinette, and interrupting their train of thought.
“Where’s Robespierre?” she asked, braids bouncing.
Will and Hannibal looked at each other, then gestured for her to come closer. She squeezed in between them.
“Darling,” Will said hesitantly, “I- I’m afraid you’re going to have to forget about Robespierre.”
Abigail sighed dramatically, Bedelia thought it was a perfect imitation of her fathers. “Forget, Papa? I’ve already forgotten. You were right about saving gutting for someone special, Father, he wouldn’t even touch Lucy.”
She jumped from the couch with her beaming smile on full brightness. “Can I call Marissa and have her come over instead?”
“Of course, tesora,” Hannibal smiled. “Go right ahead.”
Will and Hannibal were having their daily fencing duel the next morning in the living room. Usually it lasted while they conversed about whatever was on their minds, the razor sharp blades adding just the right amount of danger to keep it interesting.
“Tell me, Will,” Hannibal asked, dodging the sharp thrust Will had sent towards his left lung, “What made you so agitated around the Tudors yesterday?”
“What makes you think I was agitated?” Will shot back, leaping back onto a chair for higher ground.
“I could feel your heart beating faster, my love, you can’t hide that so easily," Hannibal replied with a sweeping thrust that got Will to jump off the chair and be on solid ground with him again.
“How do you know it wasn’t because of you?” Will teased, tapping his shoulder with the blade.
Hannibal grinned and suddenly pushed forward on the offense, pinning Will up against the harpsichord and placing the blade against his jugular. “I can always tell when your heart beats for me, caro mio.”
Will smirked up at him, leaning forward to allow the blade to just barely graze his neck, letting just a trickle of blood leak out. “Well, they thought that I was a hired help the Lecters hired out of the goodness of your heart when I was coming back in the yard.”
That darkness that Will couldn't get enough of clouded Hannibal’s eyes, and the faintest hint of a snarl appeared out of the corner of his mouth. “They insulted you?”
“Oh, I wish you could have seen their faces,” Will grinned, taking his own sword and placing the tip right up against Hannibal's heart. He pierced the skin there so the blood would ooze through the crisp, pressed white linen.
“Such a shame you were otherwise occupied, mon amour,” Will practically purred.
Hannibal’s sword clanged against the hardwood floor as he took Will’s hand, kissed over each knuckle and started a familiar trail of kissed up Will’s arm.
“Darling, please,” Will sighed, but not objecting as Hannibal kissed his way over to the back of Will’s neck. “It’s early.”
“Your watch is slow,” Hannibal murmured against Will’s silky shirt collar.