Will entered his doctor's lavish office, his pack of dogs following close behind him. He settled on the couch, his mutts creating an aura around him. Dr. Lector told him to come at this time, he had even drawn a clock for Will to reference, and yet he was nowhere to be found.
Doctor Hannibal Lector then sauntered into the room, stopping in front of Will, striking an elegant pose.
"Will, I have something to tell you," Hannibal confessed. He ripped off his 3,000 dollar suit to reveal a fuzzy, full bodied deer costume, complete with a hood, ears and plush antlers. "The deer that has been appearing in your dreams and in your visions, it has been me all along."
Will and his dogs gasped. Holy swag he is the stag, thought Will.
"The deer was leading you towards me this whole time. So we could be companions. Forever," Hannibal explained as he clicked his hooves together.
Hannibal's eyes sparkled with friendship as Will sat with his mouth agape. The Hannibal Lector wanted to be his friend? He couldn't believe his ears. Winston, Will's trusty steed, nudged him with his nose, snapping him out of his reverie.
Will shot up and chasséd over to the ladder with his dogs in tow. "But what if I like you… as more than a friend," he said through clenched teeth, gripping the rungs of the ladder. His face, chest, back and crotch were already soaked with sweat.
Hannibal pranced over to him, concern on his face. "But my friend, whatever do you mean?"
"I mean I might want to do it with you," Will forced out. His glasses slipped off his sweaty nose and onto one of the dogs, sinking into its think, well-washed fur never to be seen again.
Hannibal ran a hoof down Will's chest. "I might want to do it with you too," he whispered. "You're the graham cracker of my love smore, Mr. Graham."
Will tried to think of a food pun that would go well with the name Hannibal, but he lost his train of thought when the deer hand met his awakening member.
"Ding, dong," Hannibal cooed as he pressed the growing bulge.
Will couldn't take it any longer. He needed to have this deer-man right now, in his bed. This sexy, sexy deer-man.
Suddenly, Special Agent-in-Charge Jack Crawford burst through the door, a gaggle of police officers behind him. "Dr. Lector," shouted Crawford, "We know who you are. There's no use hiding it now."
Hannibal began to sweat under his furry form, his hoof still lightly ding-donging Will's dong. His craving for human man meat was rising, and so was his own man meat. He continued to ring-a-ling Will's ring-ding.
"We know that you want to be more than Will's doctor," Crawford continued shouting. "You want to be his friend. His friend that would never lie to him about his mental illness, frame him for murder or eat him."
"Depends what you mean by 'eat'," Will guffawed.
Everyone laughed at Will's joke about Hannibal going down on his twinkling twig. They all knew the doctor and his patient wanted to get it on. Hannibal burst with nervous, forced laughter and tried to ignore the little bit of pee that escaped him.
"Yes that is the only thing I have been hiding this whole time," said Hannibal, nodding his fury head wildly. "Come on everyone, to the dining room! I made dinner."
Everyone shuffled to the dining room and found a seat, awaiting Hannibal's succulent meal.
Alana Bloom and Beverley Katz emerged from a shimmering orb of light, looking as radiant as ever.
"Sorry we're late," said Katz. She didn't have to take a seat. She just floated in midair because she can.
"I brought the beer," announced Bloom, opening her jacket to reveal it lined with bottles of only the finest crafted beer. She handed one out to everyone as they praised him goddess form.
Hannibal, still in his stag ensemble, entered from the kitchen adorning his "Kiss the Cook" apron, oven mitts, and tiny chef's hat. He was carrying a large tray with a lid on top, a trail of steam rising from underneath. He set the tray down and looked for a seat. There were none left, so he sat on Will's sweaty lap at the head of the table. Alana stared daggers at Lector, defensive of her rightful territory.
"Tonight I have prepared venison," Hannibal said. "I learned this recipe from my mama. Cooking Mama that is."
He lifted the lid, revealing a severed, obviously human arm. All the guests were silent, and most were pretty sure that that wasn't what venison looked like.
"Oops, sorry! Wrong dish!" Hannibal giggled.
"Oh you!" chuckled Will, wagging his sweaty finger in the cannibal's face.
Laughter filled the room, and almost everyone forgot about the whole arm thing when Hannibal brought out the new dish that kind of looked like venison, but still no one was really all that sure. It tasted great though, and that's really all that matters in the end.
After dinner, everyone went home feeling full and satisfied. Will moved into Hannibal's apartment with his dogs. He spent his days walking around in his extra-small boxers and extra-small t-shirt and making fishing lures for some reason. Nevertheless, the dynamic duo of mental illness lived happily together and had some freaky sex here and there. Everyone pretty much stopped caring about solving the murder cases and finding out the identity of the Chesapeake Ripper, all because Will Graham was finally happy for once. And that was the greatest gift of all.