AN - Okay, so I was browsing Hannibal fan art on deviantart the other day when I came across a request for this story. Obviously, I took it up, and I have to say that it was probably one of the most fun things I've ever written. I hope you enjoy!
The Piano
Standing in front of that familiar door had never been more terrifying. Neither had the walk up those carpeted stairs. Or the long drive from his house.
It had been some hours since Alana had showed up on his door step to convince him to join her, Jack and Bella for dinner at Hannibal's. She'd even gone so far as to rummage through his clothes to find 'suitable attire' for the event; worsted wool trousers and casual dinner jacket in one of his favourite colours, russet brown, and a blood red shirt. She had been unhappy with his selection of shoes, but settled for the slightly worn black brogues that had somehow made their way to the back of his wardrobe.
He couldn't fully remember what her argument had been any more, just that it had involved something about 'getting out of the house' and 'fun'. He honestly couldn't even imagine how what he was feeling right now could ever be classed as 'fun', and the suit felt restricting and uncomfortable, not to mention that the colour of the shirt seemed wildly inappropriate considering his line of work. He had flat out refused the tie just to keep some kind of semblance of control, the top two buttons remaining open instead of choking his neck.
Taking a deep breath, he raised his hand and knocked on the door.
The next few seconds felt like an eternity as he listened to the steady footsteps approach the door after a momentary pause. He quickly used the time to adjust his glasses again and smooth down his jacket. Why was he so nervous?
As the door opened, he tried to smile, but his lips refused to move.
"Good evening Will," Hannibal greeted him, a friendly expression on his face as he stepped back, "Please come in."
Nodding slightly, he stepped over the threshold and into the heat of the kitchen, a mixture of scents and sights greeting him.
"I'm not… late, am I?" he asked, noticing the five plates that were sitting on the counter. He knew Hannibal hated tardiness. Had he already ruined the evening?
His host chuckled slightly, making him turn to face him as he closed the door. "No, Will. If anything, you are early. By about half an hour in fact."
Will's eyes widened. "I… what?" He glanced down at his watch, taking note of the time. He couldn't be early! "But Alana said six thirty."
Hannibal simply smiled. "I believe she may have thought that you would have been reluctant to come. After all, you did deny my first invitation."
Will cringed and looked down at his feet, feeling like a child in the headmaster's office. He'd hoped that he wouldn't bring that up, but it would seem that he was not to go unpunished for his unexpected arrival. That was even worse than tardiness.
"But that is of no importance," the man continued, stepping past him to return to his work place, "You are here now, and that is what matters." Donning an oven glove, he opened the oven and pulled out a deep tray with a still slightly pink looking roll of meat sitting inside. "I hope you like pork," he said as he spooned the marinade over the meat before returning it to the oven.
Smiling for the first time that night, Will nodded the affirmative.
Wiping his hands in a tea towel, the psychiatrist moved over to a cupboard and pulled out two identical wine glasses before selecting a pre-opened bottle of red from the side, no doubt in order to let it breath, pouring equal amounts into the two glasses slowly and gracefully, the sound of a freshly poured bottle reaching their ears.
Taking the glass proffered to him, Will watched as Hannibal swirled the wine around his glass before smelling it, allowing his shoulders to relax as his eyes drifted closed and a look of pleasure passed over his features. It was fascinating, watching him enjoy the scent, and Will almost forgot his own glass as the world became empty of everything except Hannibal and his etiquette.
"It's a fruity Chambolle, of the Pinot Noir grape," he said before taking the smallest of sips, "I thought it would be the perfect way to begin the evening." Hannibal's eyes focus on his and he is forced to look away, guilt of ruining his host's schedule running though his mind as he glared into the depths of his glass.
After a few minutes, he finally takes a sip, not bothering with the etiquette, knowing he'd end up messing it up anyway, and he can taste the tang of berries on his tongue.
"Have you ever seen anything more than my office and kitchen, Will?" Hannibal suddenly asks as he prepares the asparagus.
Will blinks, confused. "I'm sorry?"
"I was wondering if you wanted a tour of my house," the chef clarified and an amused smile turned the corners of his lips.
"Oh… Um, yeah. Sure, I'd like that."
Hannibal nodded. "You will have to give me a few minutes while I prepare the vegetables, but I endeavour to keep my guests entertained while they wait."
"Watching you cook is entertainment enough," Will says, unable to stop himself from making the comment. When Hannibal glances up at him, his eyebrow raised, he can't help but blush. "That is… I mean…"
"It's quite alright Will. I have been complimented thusly on several occasions, but I thank you for it all the same." And with that, he returned to his task, his knife making careful and precise incisions and cuts.
Somewhat flustered, all the special agent can do is stare into his glass again, knowing his cheeks were a bright red. Maybe if he didn't open his mouth he wouldn't make such embarrassing comments.
Several small mouthfuls later and with a small collection of pots and pans now carefully arranged on the stove, Hannibal washed his hands, dried them on a fresh towel and proceeded to straighten out his sleeves. Once he'd donned his waistcoat and tie, he folded his jacket over his arm and motioned towards the dining room.
"After you."
Placing his glass on the side, Will nodded and made his way towards the table, already set for the meal with several candles waiting to be lit sitting in the centre. Both of the lengths of the table had two places set, along with the head of the table where Hannibal would sit.
"I doubt I need to show you the office, though we will have to pass through it to reach the rest of the house," he explains before resting a hand on the chair to the right of the head, "This will be where you sit tonight."
Will frowned. Surely he meant that Jack would be sitting there. The seat to the right of the host was a place of honour, reserved for the most important guest of the meal. He opened his mouth to make an objection, but Hannibal simply gave him a questioning look. All thoughts seemed to fly from his mind, and all he could think of was how grateful he was that Hannibal would do such a thing for him. Smiling, he nodded his thanks, running his fingers over the frame of the chair.
"Next is the guest bedroom," Hannibal said suddenly, moving on through his office, leaving Will to catch up as he opened the first door to the left in the hallway beyond. It was a fairly large room, a queen bed sitting adjacent to a large window, the light tumbling through the glass and caressing the quiet tones of the oak and light fabrics that flooded the room, bathing it in an almost constant look of a clear midday sky.
There was an adjoining wash room – simple, yet elegant – and each surface was spotless. The bed seemed freshly made and the floor recently vacuumed, while the curtains were held back by hooks that were set into either side of the window. Though the air held the scent of detergent, it was not overwhelming, and a fresh bouquet of white flowers held in a vase on the chest of drawers added pollen into the mix.
It was like a breath of fresh air.
"I don't usually host guests who stay overnight," Hannibal continued, "But it does not do to be unprepared for every eventuality."
Will could only hum in agreement as he looked around the room, unaware that a look of awe had plastered itself on his face.
"Next is the master bedroom."
Blinking, Will couldn't help but shake his head. "You don't have to do that."
"Ah, but a good host opens his house for his guests," Hannibal retaliated before turning away, leaving Will standing speechless in the middle of the room.
When he finally manages to move from his spot, he finds Hannibal waiting patiently for him next to the door at the end of the hallway.
With a flick of his wrist, Hannibal pushed the door open to reveal the room beyond.
Will couldn't help the gasp from escaping his lips as the sight of a full four poster bed greeted him, the frame and its posts intricately carved with details that he could probably have spent hours staring at, and the thick drapes that hugged them carefully embroidered, though it was impossible to tell what the images on the were while they were folded.
The two windows on either side of the bed seemed to frame it, giving the room a sense of order and control, while the dark colours gave it a cosy, yet energetic feel. Each piece of furniture was as grand as the next, each seeming to hold a different story. He was surprised to find a Japanese sword (a Katana, he believed it was called) sat on a stand on the wall by the door.
Instead of a wash room, this room had a walk in closet, the walls lined with suits and shirts of varying though similar colours and shades save for the end which held a floor to ceiling mirror. Will had no doubt that he wouldn't be able to afford most of them, even if he did want one.
Just as it was in the guest bedroom, the place was spotless and well kept, though he hadn't expected any less. There wasn't a speck of dust to be found anywhere, and he couldn't help but wonder if Hannibal was the one responsible for his home's upkeep, or if he employed a cleaner.
Once again, his eyes trailed back to the sword hanging by the door, and he couldn't help but wonder as to why it was here instead of in his office where most of his other pieces sat.
"That is a rather personal item," Hannibal explained, noting Will's inquisitiveness, "It's a rather long story. I would rather save it for another time." Moving back into the hallway, he motioned to the last door. "Shall we?"
Lowering the hand he had unconsciously raised towards it, Will followed, closing the door behind him, cursing himself for not doing so with the previous room.
He had already deciphered that the last room was the bathroom, but he had been expecting something small and well furnished, not the grand, spacious area that seemed to be about the size of the last to rooms combined.
It shouldn't have surprised him really. Hannibal was probably the neatest, ordered person he had ever met, so it seemed only natural for him to hold his washing space in higher regard than anything else, perhaps baring his work and cooking. After all… "… cleanliness is next to godliness."
"Indeed," Hannibal agreed, a slight grin gracing his features.
The floor and walls were coated in varnished black marble tiles, small windows set every couple of metres in the wall save from in the corner where a large pain of tinted glass stood, separating the shower from the rest of the room, the centrepiece of which was, of course, the bath.
It was perhaps the largest tub Will had ever seen, bordering on Jacuzzi in size, standing on four ornate looking feet, each standing in the centre of one of the tiles. The mat which sat next to it must have been custom made, as it matched the curve of the bowl-like bath. The taps seemed to hang over it like snakes or the tentacles of some large squid protruding from the ground just behind the white titan.
There were artistic radiators lining the walls, along with several hooks and stands holding various bath robes and towels sorted into black and whites. The wall length mirror that hung at eye level above the rather mundane looking wash basin, though on closer inspection, Will realised that it was in fact crafted out of a very fine marble, the dark veins in the white only revealing themselves when one looked for them. It was much the same story with the lavatory as well.
Will smirked. "Isn't it strange that I have spent so much time here, yet I've never once seen this room?" he asked, his eyes still roaming the room. However, he received no reply.
Turning back to the door, Will found that Hannibal was no longer there, and he found the lack of his presence a little unnerving.
"Hannibal?" he called, stepping back into the hallway.
"I'm in the kitchen, Will," came a distant reply, "I needed to begin the sauce, otherwise it will not be ready in time."
Will sighed. Of course he was in the kitchen. That was the reason he was here after all, and he knew Hannibal prided himself in his culinary skills.
Taking one last glance around the room, he closed the door and made his way back down the hallway, glaring at the guest bedroom door as he passed it. Hannibal must have closed it earlier, as it was no longer ajar. He was going to feel guilty about that for rest of the night.
As he was walking out of the office, something caused him to pause his step and turn back.
There, sat where one of the arm chairs would usually be, was a grand piano, the varnished black wood of its closed top drawing him in. As he made his way towards the great instrument, he noticed the golden lettering spelling 'Fazoli' on the side. Though he didn't know many more makes of piano than Steinway or Yamaha, he could tell from the way it had been placed in plain view that it was a good make.
How did he not see this before?
"Hannibal?"
"Yes Will?"
He moved to stand behind the cushioned stool, running his fingers over the fallboard. "When did you get a piano?"
"I am holding it for one of my clients," Hannibal replied, "They had to leave on a business trip for a few days and they asked for my assistance."
Will simply nodded as he lifted the fallboard up and ran his fingers over the keys. As he presses down on the middle C, he listens to the way the note rang through the room, though its tone didn't quite… sing.
Moving around the edge of the piano, he raised the front of the top board onto the back before raising the entire thing up with his left hand, searching for the prop with his right. When at last he had locked the prop in place, he gazed down at the fine workings of the piano. The strings all lined up perfectly, the hammers waiting to fulfil their rolls, the muffler felt soft and clean.
This piano was not used, as it should be. The tell-tale signs of use were vacant, and it was an upsetting sight.
Setting himself down on the stool, he adjusted the seat as he ran his fingers over the keys once again. It had been some time since he last played, he thinks as he pulls his glasses off and places them on the seat next to him, he hopes he's not out of practice.
Hannibal was making some final touches to the sauce and meat when he heard voices from beyond the door. He could hear the lyrical yet worried tones of Miss Bloom, the concerned though affirming timbre of Agent Crawford, and the deep but feminine tune of Mrs Crawford.
"-doesn't feel too uncomfortable," Miss Bloom stated, "Maybe I shouldn't have pushed him…"
"Alana, I'm sure he'll be fine," Bella replied, he voice full of comfort and reassurance.
Ah, so his other guests had arrived.
Quickly washing and drying his hands, he checked on the vegetables before moving closer to the door, allowing his thoughts to wander as he waited for them to knock.
When Will had first arrived, dressed in a casual suit (not quite up to his standards, but a definite improvement from his usual garb), he had been a bundle of nerves, his fingers constantly twitching towards the sleeves of his jacket in an unconscious need to hold control over something. It had been rather sweet really.
The comment he made over the wine had been… flattering, and the way his cheeks had blushed was rather endearing. He had been almost disappointed when he refused to speak after that point.
When he had shown Will where he was to be sitting, he noticed how he had seemed to fret, his eyes shouting how he felt unworthy of the honour he was bestowing upon him, but when he showed him that he felt he was worthy, Will relaxed a little and accepted it.
The look of awe that seemed to have affixed itself on Will's features as Hannibal led him through his home filled him with a feeling of accomplishment and pride. It was good to know that his efforts were noticed.
The three sharp raps of knuckle against wood pulled him out of his reverie, informing him that his guests were ready.
Making sure everything was in order, he closed the distance between himself and the entrance before pulling it open.
"Good evening Agent Crawford, ladies," he said with a small nod, "So glad that you could make it."
They all smiled, though Alana's faltered a little, no doubt worried about Will.
"Good evening, Doctor Lecter," the Agent replied, "Thank you for having us."
Smiling at his manners, Hannibal stepped back to allow them to enter.
As they stepped over the threshold, he allowed his senses to take over, taking in the light wisps of the women's fragrances, the musk of Jack's after shave which was considerably more appealing than the 'ship-on-the-bottle' aftershave Will wore, even if it had a slight charm about it, the ruffling of expensive fabrics against the skin…
"Is Will here?" Miss Bloom asks, a concerned frown distorting her features slightly as she glances around the empty kitchen. "We saw his car parked outside."
Hannibal smiles at her apprehension, "I believe he is currently in the…"
Suddenly, the most exquisite of all sounds began to float through the air, interrupting his train of thought and causing him to pause. He could hear the clear, resounding notes of what was unmistakably a piano emerging from the room he knew Will to be in. But surely he wasn't the one playing… was he?
"Hannibal?"
Blinking, he returned his focus to the woman stood before him before flashing her an apologetic smile. "Would you excuse me for a moment, Miss Bloom," he asked before stepping around her and towards his office, the hobs and oven turned down to a simmer quickly before stepping into his work place.
The silent gasp that escaped him was not something he would usually allow himself to produce, but the sight before him held more splendour than he had anticipated.
Will was lost, completely and utterly, heart and soul, in the music his fingers were bringing forth, his features devoid of the worry and the pain that seemed to constantly shroud him. He could see the pure contentment Will was feeling, the way he let his spirit ebb into every note, each crescendo and diminuendo, the pauses and breaths. This hopeful yet melancholy piece seemed to fit with its performer perfectly.
As he listened and watched as Will allowed the music to take him, a small smile curving his lips as his eyes slipped shut, he felt three presences join him in his wonder, standing silently by his side.
As the piece progressed, and the music deepened, Hannibal realised that he was listening to a part of Will's soul as his emotions became entwined with the notes. It was perhaps the most beautiful thing he had ever heard. Tears came to his eyes unbidden as the music spoke to him, portraying the grief and confusion that Will held within him, the simplicity of the surface and the complexity below.
Unfortunately, as all things must, the music came to an end, and all that was left was the satisfied look on Will's face, his calming breath and the lasting resonance of the ending note. Will seemed so relaxed and completely himself in that moment that Hannibal was tempted to allow him to wallow in his peace. But, alas, it was not meant to be.
"I didn't know you could play," Crawford said, taking a step into the room.
The sudden statement brought Will out of his trance and he stood up sharply, causing the stool to tumble onto the floor and his glasses flying across the room.
"Oh, I um…" Will stuttered, leaning down to right the stool, "I didn't mean to… I mean, I just…"
Hannibal sent a glare towards the agent, displeased that he had broken the perfection that had been created, before striding over to where the spectacles lay, cleaning them on his apron as he made his way over to their owner, quickly blinking his unshed tears away before the others could see.
"I'm sorry," Will continued, his eyes lowered to the ground, "It was just, it looked so unused and… I couldn't help myself."
Hannibal smiled at the man's embarrassment and innocence, pleased to see a familiar red hue had highlighted his cheeks. "Nonsense. You did what came naturally and no one can blame you for that." Holding up the glasses, he waited for Will to take hold of them before allowing his hand to rest on his shoulder. "I doubt it would have gotten much use had you not. Though I do enjoy music, I am not an accomplished enough musician to play such an instrument. I suspect such music had not been bestowed upon it before tonight."
Will's cheeks darkened further at the compliment and he raised his hand to grasp the back of his neck. "Thank you."
Giving his shoulder one last squeeze, Hannibal made his way back towards the kitchen, sending his other guests a silent invitation to follow with a glance.
Returning to his station behind the counter, he returned everything to their correct temperatures before sliding the plates into the over to heat them slightly. As he checked on the vegetables and the sauce again he watched as Alana led Will into the room, her hand resting lightly on his elbow.
"So, when did you learn to play?" she asked politely, leaving plenty of leeway for the answer, much to Will's delight. Hannibal knew that restricting questions were never a good way to glean answers from him. He would always end up acting like a caged animal – aggressive and vicious when poked or prodded, retreating into himself – if he were not given options.
"About twenty years ago," he admitted after a moment of thinking, "I found that music was a good way to think while I was studying. It seemed to help everything… fit together."
Though it didn't exactly answer the question, no one wanted to push him, and so they let the matter drop. At least for the moment anyway. Will's past was too tempting a topic for Hannibal to refuse.
Sliding Will's abandoned wine glass towards its owner, Hannibal watched for a moment as he pressed his fingers against the foot of the glass, his hair shadowing his eyes as he bowed his head, before retrieving a further three glasses and pouring the Chambolle into them in equal amounts.
"I would very much like to hear how you came to discover your talent," Hannibal stated, swiftly returning to the oven to check on the meat.
There was a pause, one filled with tension and contemplation, before he turned back to find Will giving him a curious glance of his own, head cocked slightly to the side. "Only if you tell me the story behind the sword hanging in your room."
He blinked, shocked at the ultimatum he had been given, though he knew he should not have been. It was one of Will's defence mechanisms, to turn one's question back on the questioner.
Ignoring the confused looks the Crawfords and Miss Bloom were giving him, Hannibal gave a slight nod. "It reminds me of my childhood, when I lived with my aunt in Paris."
Moving to check on the contents of the pots, he allowed his mind to drift back to those years of long ago. "Lady Murasaki, widowed after my Uncle's unexpected death, taught me the importance of our ancestors and our respect for them and others. She also helped me to begin my medical studies by helping me in my application to medical school."
Using a fork to test the vegetables, he considered them ready and took them off the heat. "My aunt was a kind woman, though practical. She taught me a form of Japanese martial arts, while showing me the beauty of the world through floral arrangement."
Pulling the plates out of the oven, he set them down on the counter before pulling the pan with the meat in, setting it on another of the plates while he poured the fat into the sauce. "Unfortunately, our relationship did not end well, and I was unable to salvage anything between us before her death several years ago."
He recalled the last time they had spoken, how he had professed his love to her. "What is left in you to love?" she had asked him as his sister's murderer lay dying on the ground between them.
"I am sorry."
Looking up, he found that his guests' eyes had filled with sympathy, though Will seemed closer to guilt than sadness.
Hannibal shrugged. "What's done is done, and there is nothing we can do about it." Selecting a knife from the rack, he examined the edge before placing it beside the meat, turning to drain the vegetables. "Now, what is your story?"
Will shifted nervously, but a look of determination passed over his face. Good. He was learning to overcome his fears.
"I had gone into the city with my dad," he started, "We were going to do some Christmas shopping, but we ended up getting a little lost in one of the parks we'd come across." He smiled faintly, his eyes unfocused as he remembered the moment. "We came across a piano that seemed to have been left there, so I thought I'd have a look at it."
His fingers began to curl around the stem of his glass as his smile grew. "I'd only had a few lessons in middle school, and I wasn't very good, but it made my dad smile." He chuckled a little. "And then the guy who owned it turned up and shooed me away."
Hannibal smiled at the image as he continued his work.
"I got a keyboard under the tree that year," Will continued, his smiled fading a little. "It was the last thing my dad bought me before…" he frowned, pausing for a moment before shaking his head. "I played that thing every day until the day it broke."
A solemn silence crept into the room as he finished his tale. It was clear that whatever had happened to Will's father was painful for him, and would probably have to be broached at some point, but that was for another time.
As he made the finishing touches on the dishes, Hannibal smiled before removing the apron from around his waist and donning his jacket. "Dinner is just about ready. If you would like to follow me to the dining room?"
With a slight gesture, he led them to the table where he had lit the candles just before Will's musical spectacle. Pulling out the chair to his own's left, he ushered Doctor Bloom to take a seat while Jack did the same for his wife next to her. Allowing the men to settle themselves, he returned to the kitchen to retrieve the plates, balancing one on his arm as he held two others.
He served Bella and Alana first, then Jack before returning for the last two.
"Let me ask you a question Will," he said as he entered the room.
"Oh um, yes, of course," he replied, smiling up at him.
Leaning over his shoulder, Hannibal set his plate before him before turning his head towards Will, who had become a little ruffled by the close proximity. "I don't suppose you know any Chopin, do you?"
Blinking, all Will could do was stare at him as he placed his own plate down, his cheeks turning a bright pink before he nodded slightly, though it was barely visible in the dim light.
Congratulating himself on the small victory, Hannibal cast his eyes over his guests. "Tonight's meal is a cherry and onion stuffed pork tenderloin with boil asparagus, thyme potatoes and bell peppers with an orange and red wine sauce…"
AN - And there you have it! If you're interested in the image (also used as the cover), then here's the link (Don't forget to delete the spaces!) : / / seniorpotato . deviantart art / A - beautiful - day - to - play - 379271255 And if that doesn't show up on here, then search for 'A beautiful day to play' by seniorpotato in the search bar on deviantart. (Don't forget to check out their other work too!)
The tune Will was playing here was 'Victor's Piano Solo' by Danny Elfman from Tim Burton's Corpse Bride.
Hope you guys enjoyed it as much as seniorpotato and I did! And I hope I didn't fail at their personalities (Hannibal is a VERY hard character to get into the headset of)!