Written by: DarkmoonSigel and SKU-7314977

Authors Notes: SKU here, I got the idea for this story and decided that it had to be written! But to be honest I know shit about food and (as I have learned while writing this) even less about wine.

All credit for food and wine knowledge is owed to DarkmoonSigle who was a doll during the entire writing process and patient with me as I mistook Port for wine and tried to cook a $400 bottle of something into a sauce that would have made Hannibal cry.

We hope you all enjoy the first course.

We do not own Hannibal, though we wouldn't mind bringing him home~3

Beta read by: DarkmoonSigel

01: First Course

It was the way that light hit Will's skin; that was how it was brought to Hannibal's attention. The pallor of it wan, the color spread out far too thin. It made Will look as though he were fading.

"Have you been eating, Will?" Hannibal asked from his seat across from the empath.

The question caught Will's attention as strange, not that talk of food while in Hannibal's company was as oddity so much as the direct question regard Will's consumption of it. "Uh, yeah," The answer came broken, Will rubbing his face with tired hands. Hannibal watched his movements, sluggish at best as he squeezed the bridge of his nose and tried to blink away some of the lethargy still clinging to him; he was more distracted than usual and Hannibal had an inclination why. "That is," He began to correct, "when I remember. Jack's had me wrapped so tight around the Ripper I haven't been doing a whole lot of anything lately, eating included."

"You cannot think about the Chesapeake Ripper all the time Will," The empath shielded his declining health with the layers of flannel and cheap cotton like the armour of armour of a knight, keeping the signs of malnourishment that Hannibal knew forced his ribs to show more then what was desirable hidden away; but he couldn't hide the sickness crawling beneath his skin. "Your body and mind need to rest; good food and sleep are the only remedies for that."

Tired but restless he dragged himself from his seat, wondering to the bookshelves of the bottom level to scan texts ranging from physical and mental health to the great works of Leonardo Da Vinci. "We both know how well I sleep Hannibal." He lectured some of the older spines staring back at him. "Even when I sleep I'm not 'resting', my body takes me out for walks and my mind wakes me up screaming." He spat with betrayal.

"You would sleep much better if you found a way to relax after work and kept a regular feeding schedule," taking advantage of the opportunity presented to him Hannibal openly examined Will's back, the way his loos shirts pooled before tucking into his pants and the small gather of fabric at the back of his cargo pants that demonstrated exactly how much weight he had unintentionally lost. There was a beautiful figure hidden beneath those layers, one of sharp contours and lithe limbs.

"You say that, but try to get Jack to realize it. I don't think I've slept more than eight hours all week." Because whether it was the ripper or the latest psychopath to darken the bureau's doorway, Jack wouldn't let Will rest.

"Will if you do not begin taking care of yourself your health will begin diminishing and then what use will you be to Jack?" Or me he thought in silent addition.

Watching as Will tried to create some amount of space between them he followed behind, coming up with quite though audible footsteps so not to startle the skittish man. "Tell me how often you remember to eat."

Keeping his back to the doctor he questioned the books, "recently?"

Hannibal could already see where this was going, "In the past three days, you have slept for eight hours and what have you eaten?"

Silence filled the gap between them telling Hannibal more about his patient's food consumption then words alone, guilt always spoke loudest with Will. He was only eating when he remembered and he was a walking ball of anxiety, fear and stress, it did not leave much room for a blossoming appetite. "Allow me to ask another question, have you eaten today?"

More silence filled the gap between them as he fingered a book from the shelf, opening the heavy medical text to a page depicting the Wound Man "I haven't been hungry." Will tried to cover, focusing on the incisions covering the man depicted instead of the words of the one behind him.

Taking the heavy tomb from his patient and sliding it back in proper file with the rest Hannibal turned Will toward his desk with the gentle guidance of a hand on his lower back. "I'm afraid that will not do Will, you suffer a great deal of stress which will in turn affect your appetite, you must force yourself to eat, especially if you are not sleeping well." Giving a gentle but demanding push he sat the empath at his desk, making the man shift with discomfort at the new seating arrangement.

Leaving him for a moment Hannibal opened a small fridge in the back of his office usually reserved for wine and returned with a number of small containers to be arranged on the desk in front of Will. "Hannibal, you don't have to feed me." He protested, watching as the lids of tupperware more expensive the half his dishes popped to produce an assortment of dried fruit, cheese, a paste he could only assume to be pate with slices of bread.

A hand on his shoulder stopped Will from rising to return the seat and lunch to his therapist. "You are my patient, I am your doctor; you are malnourished and I have brought extra." Hannibal's familiar accented voice came by his ear, smooth and soothing him to remain seated.

"People don't pack extra for lunch Hannibal," he tried to challenge but the psychiatrist was already spreading a thin layer of seasoned ground meat across bread and lifting it to his lips, dismissing the comment entirely.

"For lunch we are having foie gras on French bread accompanied by rosemary infused goat cheese and dried cherries and figs that have been roasted with a dash of balsamic." He explained to the empath, letting the crust touch chapped lips. Though he knew Will was capable of eating almost anything thanks to his poor upbringing, he understood that it was that same upbringing that would leave the man close minded about new foods. "Fatty goose liver," Hannibal clarified, noting the look that lingered on the spread as he tentatively opened his mouth to accept a taste of the offering.

"It's good," Will admitting with a note of surprise, taking the chewy bread for himself to have another bite, pleased to have his fragile patient eating Hannibal disappeared again to return with two glasses and a bottle of port he had uncorked to breath sometime before.

Leaning against his desk he watched as his patient consume his lunch, sipping his glass of tangy red and savoring the sweetness as it ran over his tongue. "Will, I must confess that I am finding myself fearing for your mental and physical stability at this time. Jack has been pushing you too hard these past few weeks and it is beginning to show. I need you to find a hobby you can lose yourself to in the evenings, something that will help you unwind and step away from the Ripper." Because he knew asking Will to take some time off on stress leave would only have Crawford coming to the empath's house requesting his assistance off the charts.

Will laughed, humorless and dry; dropping the food with a sudden loss of appetite he ignored the lunch to turn his attention to the unsavory conversation at hand, "you don't think I've tried?" he grinned but it faux, sitting on as his face as empty as the laugh, "I've worked on my lures, boat motors, played with my dogs," he counted off fingers, "the only thing I can't do is go fishing, I need a weekend to do that." He shrugged, accepting a glass of red when offered and taking a swallow that made Hannibal grimace and silently promise to one day teach the back water Louisiana man what wine etiquette was; which gave him an idea.

"Then perhaps what you need is something new." He smiled, satisfied with his blossoming plan as he coaxed a fig and cheese between still reluctant lips. Though adverse at first Will seemed to open up to the new foods once they'd touched his pallet.

"Like what?" Will lifted his wine glass taking another unappreciative swallow to chase down the fig, "If you're going to tell me to take up drinking I'm already ahead of you." He lifted the glass for emphasis though Hannibal knew it wasn't wine he was storing in his cupboards. He'd seen his fridge before.

Thought pleased to have the man walking into his questioning he would have to address his alcoholism another time, "I was thinking you could cook with me." He stool a fig for himself, deciding that if he wished to taste any it would be now or never since the empath had deemed he liked the pairing of cheese and fruit and would be devouring it all.

The notion made him crease his brow, giving the dehydrated fruit a scrutinizing look. "Cooking lessons? Is this your way of keeping an eye on me Dr. Lecter?"

He smiled, topping off both their glasses "Perhaps it is my way of making sure that you are both relaxed as well as feed in the evenings." He conceded. "You will find that you will sleep much better on a full stomach and with far less nightmares when your mind is put to rest while at ease."

"I am not a skilled cook Hannibal; if you let me in your kitchen you're going to be left very disappointed." He laughed, bringing the new drink to lips.

A hand touched the step of Will's glass, a silent instruction to lower the crystal after a sip instead of a swallow. "I think you will find a few intimate sessions in my kitchen will remedy that nicely." He was pleased to watch his light handed training already taking root as Will lifted his wine glass again and sipped.

End Notes: Thank you all for reading! Please leave a comment if you enjoyed the story and let us know what you think of Will and Hannibal's cooking lessons, we love to hear from you~3

Also, please check out DarkmoonSigel at u/2691499/DarkmoonSigel