Disclaimer: Hannibal doesn't belong to me. I'm not doing any profit with this story.

Summary: Will doesn't consider himself a bad cook, but he was never able to make desserts. Hannibal offers to teach him how to bake cookies.

Universe: Hannibal (TV show)

Chapters: Three chapters.

Ships: Hannibal Lecter/Will Graham

A.N¹: I enjoy reading fucked up murder husbands dynamics, but apparently when it's my time to write, my brain only comes up with fluffy, because this is a fic with three chapters all about... cookies. And feelings.

This chapter is settled in early Season One. Chapter Two will be settled in Season Two, and chapter three, during/after Season 3. Unbeta'd.

X_X_X

Orange Cookies

By Mychelle in a Wonderland

X_X_X

When Will thought about that afternoon in retrospect, he didn't know why he went to Hannibal's house. He was never sure of why he felt the need to stay, when normally he would just wait until their next session to talk with him.

Will didn't had any urgent motivation, not when the latest case was solved with relatively few blood spilled in the end, permitting Will to have a second of peace. Will didn't even felt unwell in the past few days, besides his always present headache.

But even so, he was driving without thinking too much in that day, and soon enough he saw himself in Hannibal's doorstep, seeing the man smiling pleasantly at him.

"Will. Please, come in."

Will walked into the house, trying to not stare too much at the walls. This wasn't the first time he was inside Hannibal's house, but he still wasn't quite used with the exquisite, somewhat odd decor that the doctor adopted in his rooms.

"I'm sorry I came unannounced," Will said as Hannibal closed the door "I'm not honestly not even sure of why I came."

"I usually would not enjoy unannounced guests, but you are always good company, Will," Hannibal gracefully said "You are always welcome to my home at any time, unannounced or not."

Will gave him a small smile, hanging his coat.

"If you keep giving me such leeway, don't be surprised if someday I barge into your house without bothering to wait to be let in."

"Like an impatient housecat. Strangely enough, I do not think I would mind that either," Hannibal said, giving him an amused look.

Will had to look away first, not knowing exactly what to answer to that, not sure if Hannibal was joking or not. Will still had trouble interpreting Hannibal's body language; the man was harder to read than most people.

"I wanted to thank you for taking care of the dogs again when I was away," Will said, not raising his eyes again "I appreciate it, especially when I asked you in the last minute."

"You do not need to thank me every time I do it, Will," Hannibal said, his tone kind "I honestly don't mind. I would not do it if I did."

Will sighed, fidgeting with his hair. He was still so unused to simple, good heartedly acts of friendship coming so easy, without hidden intentions hiding behind.

"I did not ask the details when you told me that the case was solved, but are you alright? Do you wish to discuss the case?"

"It went… actually pretty well. The guy was arrested when he was lurking around his next target's neighbourhood."

"Did he surrender?"

"No." Will snorted "They rarely do. Jack shot him in the shoulder, but he's fine."

More than fine, actually. Will would expect the guy to be unconscious or angry after he was shot, but he was annoyingly calm, and kept provoking Jack until the backup arrived. Will remembered seeing Jack gripping his weapon tighter, as if fighting the impulse to shoot the man in the face this time.

"I imagine this must feel good, then."

"Well, yes. I mean, it's always better if we just capture them, and not execute them during their arrest."

"With the benefit of saving an innocent life, your main motivator for staying working at the FBI."

It wasn't really a question, and Hannibal was looking intently at him as he said these words; Will still nodded in confirmation.

"Yes, is really the best part of it. But I didn't… I mean, I don't really want to talk about the case. It's done, there wasn't any casualties, no more dead girls. I'm good with that."

"This does seem like a good change in the routine of your line of work," Hannibal remarked "But I will not press you to fill me in the details. We are not in therapy, and you are free to choose the subject you wish to talk with me."

Will felt grateful that Hannibal didn't press the subject. He honestly didn't want to wallow in that case much longer.

He looked at Hannibal to say something, and his eyes noticed Hannibal's apron hanging on his waist for the first time; Hannibal seemed to notice the curious look on his face.

"I'm afraid you caught me during the conclusion of a culinary indulgence, Will," Hannibal started to untie the apron from his waist "But I am glad that you are here. I would like to ask for your assistance."

Will furrowed his eyebrows, incapable of thinking about what exactly Hannibal wanted; Will considered himself a decent cook, but he was used to doing only basic things in the kitchen, and he couldn't imagine what he could do to assist someone as skilled as Hannibal.

But even so, the almost eager look in Hannibal's face was enough to make Will give him a slow, reluctant nod.

X_X_X

"This is delicious," Will said, his mouth still half full with cream.

As it turned out, Hannibal's culinary indulgence was a dessert that was already done and ready to be eaten, and apparently all that Hannibal needed was someone to taste it and tell him how good it was. Normally Will wouldn't be so willing and fast in feeding Hannibal's narcissistic tendencies, but the dessert did taste marvellous.

"The Tiramisù is the most known and popular italian dolce," Hannibal seemed delighted by Will's good reception "Its main ingredient is the Mascarpone cheese, notorious for being sweet and creamy."

"It's really good," Will finally swallowed his mouthful "I never had eaten it before."

"It's not often than I indulge into consuming Tiramisù, considering that my palate is not always favorable to sweet tastes, but the Tiramisù is one of the exceptions. I was very fond of its taste during my years on Italy, and I never grew tired of it."

"I have a sweet tooth," Will admitted, eating another spoonful "But I always was a disaster when the subject is desserts. I'm not a bad cook, but I never was able to make edible desserts, or even cookies."

"Cookies are usually very easy to make. Why do you have trouble doing it?"

Will swallowed the last piece of the dessert, and pulled his plate aside.

"I'm not sure. They always end up being either burnt or uncooked. Lack of practice, maybe," Will shrugged "Growing up, my dad only cooked the very basic and almost all his recipes included fish. I tried to learn more during my college years and I became better, but I never really learned how to do desserts and sweets. I'm not an overly skilled cook by any definitions."

"Perhaps you were lacking a competent teacher."

Will blinked, and then looked at Hannibal with a cocked eyebrow.

"Are you offering to teach me, Doctor Lecter?"

Hannibal smiled at the question.

"I am, if you are interested," Hannibal appeared to be delighted by the possibility.

Will hesitated.

"I'm not sure I would be any good as a student."

"Do not be so harsh on yourself, Will, I am sure you are more than capable. And thankfully for the both of us, I am very confident in my ability as a teacher."

Will smiled a little at that, and considered the question seriously for the first time.

Why not? He didn't have anywhere to go for the rest of the afternoon or even the night, and he didn't have anyone waiting for him but a loyal pack of dogs. If he stayed, he could maybe learn a skill that he always wanted to dominate, but lacked the ability. It was worth a try, even if it would be forcing him out of his cherished solitude.

But even that wouldn't be a real problem. Differently from most people he had contact with, Hannibal wasn't a difficult person to be around. His calm exterior and his easy patience were always an anchor for Will's mind, and he didn't mind staying for a long time in the doctor's presence - he actually enjoyed these times, even his therapy hours.

When he looked again at Hannibal was with a challenging look.

"Alright then, Doctor. Teach me how to bake some cookies, if you can."

Hannibal's smile was his only answer, and it was enough for Will to understand that his challenge was accepted.

They cleared the table and Hannibal started pulling some ingredients on it, and instructed Will to wash his hands. He then retrieved his apron and tied it in his waist, and retrieved another one, similar to the one he was wearing and handed it to Will.

"I never cook with an apron," Will confessed, as he tied it around his waist "I don't even own one."

"Then this one is yours, now."

Will started to protest, but Hannibal dismissed his complaints.

"I insist. Aprons are very useful in a kitchen, and can make the art of cooking far more hygienic, especially when one have so many dogs as you do."

"I don't let my dogs wander about in the kitchen when I'm cooking," Will said, slightly offended at the implication.

"I was not implying that you do, but you are a dog owner. A very dedicated owner of seven dogs, and your clothes can carry dog hair that isn't easily removed in common washing, and an apron can impede the said dog hair from falling in the food you are cooking."

Will still felt slightly annoyed, but the reasoning did make sense, and so he reluctantly accepted the gift.

"Thanks," Will said, trying to not sound sarcastic; Hannibal was nothing but kind to him since he knocked on his door, and Will didn't want to offend him, even if he still wasn't going to wear an apron at his home.

"You are welcome," Hannibal said, smiling a little, and Will felt better about not deliberated being an asshole.

"So, uh, what are we going to bake?"

"Since you mentioned a fondness for cookies, I thought about one of my favorite pastries from my youth on Italy."

Will nodded, waiting to see if Hannibal would elaborate.

"I thought about teaching you a more elaborate recipe, but I think it would be less intimidating if we started with something more simply, that does not require rare ingredients. This particular recipe I acquired from a very memorable elderly woman who owned the bakery who was located in the same street as my uncle's house. I never forgot that recipe."

"What does it taste like?" Will asked. He didn't comment, but he was relieved that Hannibal wasn't trying to teach him how to cook some very elaborated gourmet cookie that Will would never have the energy to do alone.

Hannibal raised one of the ingredients he had just put on the table; it was an orange.

"It has a very delicate texture; if made in the correct way, it will melt in your mouth."

Will smiled a bit awkwardly.

"Let's see, then. What, uh, what should I do?"

"I will slowly guide you in what you should do, but for now you can cream three quarters of a cup of butter and one third of a cup of sugar while I get the eggs and the vanilla."

Will nodded, focusing all his attention on what he was doing. It was good to do something that was manual work but that didn't push all his limits, and that at the same time was something new. Will was trying his best to absorb every word that Hannibal said, so he would be able to remember how to do the recipe by himself when he was alone, if he liked the flavour.

It was quite easy to follow Hannibal's instructions. He moved effortlessly in the kitchen, with grace and ability, like a big cat stretching in his territory. Will dutifully followed Hannibal's instructions when he told him to add the eggs, the vanilla and the orange juice, and Hannibal measured the flour and baking powder, slowly putting it in the mixture as Will worked the dough.

When it was time to knead the dough on the table, Hannibal turned to him.

"Do you want me to take over now?"

"I think I would prefer to have the whole experience," Will said, surprising himself in how sincere he sounded; he really wanted to make the whole process if he could.

"As you wish," Hannibal said, clearly satisfied.

Hannibal guided him in how long he should knead the mixture, and in how he could roll the dough in small parts, 6-inch lengths, and started to help Will into moulding it into rings.

"The process is the same for it all, so they will be done quicker if I help you," he explained.

Will didn't answer, but he moved aside to make space for Hannibal to work.

When they finished the rings, Hannibal put it all in ungreased cookie sheets.

"Now we let it rest for fifteen minutes before we put it on the oven," Hannibal explained as he started to clear the table.

Will nodded, stepping aside awkwardly, not wanting to stay on Hannibal's way.

"Do you, hm, need any help cleaning?"

"That won't be necessary. I will wash everything after we make the icing," Hannibal said as he wiped the table.

"You are a very neat cook,"Will observed with no surprise; except for the cookies and the unwashed utensils, everything was clean and in its right place again.

"I'm used to cook a large amount of food, often with very elaborated details. In these kind of conditions, one learns to become an organized cook or one descents into chaos."

"I'm afraid I have adopted the chaos," Will smiled a little with the pained look on Hannibal's face "It was the only way I learned how to do anything kitchen-related."

"Perhaps I can rub some good habits on you, then," Hannibal's voice actually sounded a little hopeful.

"Perhaps," Will conceded "But don't hold your breath, Doctor. Old tricks are hard to unlearn."

"I'm nothing if persistent."

Will surprised himself with a small laugh.

"I don't think I ever met someone so passionate about food as you are."

"Food is a form of art, and I am very passionate about every form of art. It's not merely a gain of nourishment, " Will thought he could see Hannibal's eyes actually sparkling when he was talking "It's an act of transforming something rudimental in something better, improved. It's the act of consuming a life, be it a life of a vegetal or the life of something else."

"It's a very particular view, but I can see how it can be seen this way. I guess for me it was always little more than nourishment," Will said, almost apologetic.

"Because of your childhood?"

"Maybe. Probably," Will scratched his head "I mean, I never starved, dad always had some food on the table for us. But we didn't have money for diversity. Sometimes I would spend two weeks eating only soup and canned beans, or a whole month eating rice and fish. I could eat a fruit if we were living in somewhere near trees, and I almost only ate chocolate if I was sick. Things got better when I was a teenager, but I think it was already too late for my palate."

"It's never too late to learn good habits."

"Yeah, but what you learn on your childhood has the nasty habit to sticking with you."

"Sometimes," Hannibal agreed "Sometimes not. Sometimes one can learn to ignore or to compensate a habit acquired on one's childhood."

Something in Hannibal's voice aroused curiosity in Will.

"Is your culinary passion a way of compensation?"

"I would not simplify my hobbies in this way," Hannibal said, almost scoffing at the idea "But I suppose there is some truth on the idea. The period after my parents' death and before my uncle adopted me was a very... trying time."

Will thought that was probably an euphemism, and immediately felt bad about his prying; he forgot that Hannibal once mentioned that he became an orphan early in his life. Despite his sumptuous and elegant style of life, he probably was a starving child for a few years in his life, in the kind of poverty that comes with abandon that Will thankfully didn't experienced in his childhood.

But before Will could say something else he would regret, Hannibal turned to him.

"It's time to bake the cookies, now. It will take more or less fifteen or seventeen minutes, and we can make the icing during this time."

Will nodded, and helped Hannibal put the cookies in the oven.

"How do we make the icing?" He asked when they were done; Hannibal was already putting some ingredients on the table.

"It's a very simple icing. Confectioner's sugar and orange juice, until it makes a thin glaze. Would you like to do?"

"Yeah," Will said "Just tell me when I should stop. I'm not sure I know the right texture for a thin glazed icing."

After a few minutes, Hannibal did so, and five minutes later, they were taking the steaming cookies out of the oven.

"The smell is very good," Will said, as they put the cookies on the table again.

"And the taste will be even better," Hannibal promised with a smirk in the corner of his lips.

They worked in putting the icing on the cookies together, and the process was much quicker than before, and in no more than five minutes they were done.

"Before you experiment, let me wipe the table and put them on a plate," Hannibal said when Will had just picked up a cookie; he nodded and patiently waited, fighting a smile, Hannibal's need of presentation seeming more endearing than annoying in that moment.

At least, Hannibal put the cookies in one of his beautiful, elegant plates; the cookies were a far cry from the fancy desserts he usually displayed, but they seemed just as delicious for Will.

"Can I prove one now?" Will asked, not resisting the opportunity to tease a little.

"Of course. It's only fair for you to enjoy the flavour of your hard work."

With that, Will finally brought a cookie to his mouth, biting a piece.

As soon as his tongue came in contact with the cookie, he felt the sweetness of the sugar contrasting with the slightly acid taste of the orange and the taste of the tender, creamy texture, and he didn't managed to swallow a moan.

"I take it is to your liking?" Hannibal asked, smug as hell.

"It is, yes," Will answered; normally he would have the impulse to deny Hannibal the satisfaction, but it seemed pointless in this case.

"I'm not surprised. I always had great confidence in your abilities," Hannibal smiled, an actual smile that wasn't just a quick upturn of his lips.

"As much as I appreciate the faith, you wouldn't think so if you had tasted the cookies I baked in the past."

"Maybe," Hannibal conceded "But this one does appear to be delectable."

"Be the judge then," Without stopping to think about what he was doing, he extended a cookie in the direction of Hannibal's mouth.

It was only when Hannibal raised an eyebrow that Will realized what he had done and the implications, and he felt himself growing warmer. But before he could retreat his arm, Hannibal bit down on the cookie. His lips didn't touch Will's fingers, but he felt the hot air of Hannibal's breath in his fingertips during those milliseconds, and he felt his face growing even hotter as he lowered his arm.

"Truly scrumptious, Will," Hannibal praised, and Will couldn't find it in himself to make eye contact.

"Hm, thanks. Is it like the ones from your youth?"

Hannibal shook his head.

"Not quite, no. Two tastes are never the same. It's different, but your version is no less tasteful, and I quite enjoyed it."

Will managed to raise his eyes to Hannibal again, feeling better at the soft expression in the doctor's face, even as he still felt the residual feelings of heat in his own face.

"Thanks," Will managed to say "I wouldn't have managed without your help."

"You are most welcome. If our little adventure today helps you on the future, I will feel accomplished."

Hannibal was smiling as he said this l, and Will ducked his head with a small smile of his own, still with the phantom feeling of Hannibal's breath in his skin and the taste of orange in his tongue.

X_X_X

After that day, at least a month had passed before Will felt adventurous enough to try to do the recipe that Hannibal taught him on his own.

It was a rainy Sunday; his phone remained blissfully quiet, no urgent calls coming from Jack Crawford and no friendly calls coming from Alana or Hannibal. His pack was bored inside the house, almost all of them taking naps.

After he had lunch, after he had tidied up the house as much as the rainy climate allowed and fed the dogs, he was left without nothing to do and too much time in his hands, and was during these moments that he remembered that strange day.

Will went into his kitchen and checked if he had all the ingredients, and once he confirmed, he hesitated only for a moment before he started separating all he needed. He asked Hannibal to teach him that day for days like this one.

Will still remembered everything he needed to do, but the process took him twice longer than when he had done the cookies with Hannibal's help, but Will wasn't in a hurry and didn't mind the extra work.

When everything was done, a few cookies were slightly burned and the icing was a little more acid than their conjoined attempt, but it was still tasty, so Will didn't mind.

With the rain still lazily falling outside, Will sat down in his bed with a plate full of cookies, with pleasant sweetness in his mouth and quiet thoughts about Italian orange cookies and a young Hannibal Lecter impressed by them.

TBC

A.N.²: Thanks for reading! Comments are always welcome.

The remaining chapters will be posted in the next few days.