"Vivaldi or Bach, sir?"
"Er..." Ben looked at the two pieces of parchment before him as though they were written in another language, which they were. He wracked his brain to try and remember the musician Gabriel had admired aloud, his hand waving around in the air before he pointed to the piece in the dealer's right hand.
"Let's go with Bach. Sounds about right."
The well-groomed man behind the counter smiled and turned his back while packaging Ben's choice, while he dug for his wallet and tried to keep his breathing steady with the price. It had taken for-fucking-ever to track down the shit Gabriel was into, old music written by dudes with psycho hair. And holy shit was it expensive. Handing over the credit card and wincing when the clerk rang it through, Ben thanked him for his time before turning and cradling the carefully packaged parchment in his arms as though it was plated gold.
Might as well have been.
And it was worth every penny. Huntington was gonna light up like a Christmas tree when he saw what Ben had got him, scold him about the money spent, and probably fuck him into next week. Ben's dick gave a twitch at the thought, a smug grin of self-satisfaction as he pulled into traffic. He'd flip over backwards to see the doctor smile, his eyes like up like a kid in a candy store's. Gabriel loved him. It gave him goosebumps even now, weeks later, to think about it. Couldn't just say it like Ben had, no. Blurted it out with his cock up his ass. No, Gabriel had to be Gabriel and go Shakespearean, sittin' there with Ben on his dick and not five minutes after blowing a load. Wasn't fair.
And it wasn't just words, either. Ben had been practically drowning in the shit Gabriel had been buying him, every time he turned around something paid for, his truck fixed, the list went on... Ben had laid down the law when the repairs had stopped. Gabriel had been threatened with a helluva lot less affection if he even thought about sticking a new truck in the driveway one a these days. He was allowed to buy Gabriel something nice, occasionally. Sure, maybe he didn't bleed cash like the doctor did, but he did alright. Alright enough to spoil his partner once in a while. Even though Gabriel threw a little bitchfit whenever Ben shelled out a bit a' money, it was worth it. So fucking worth it.
"Yo, anybody home?"
"Certainly not with that abhorrent slang, there isn't." Hannibal didn't look up from his desk, his pen gliding over the paper before him as he wrote. Ben's footsteps were solid and loud, the smile in the younger man's voice easily detectable.
"Gotcha somethin'."
Raising an immaculate brow, Hannibal lifted his gaze from his notes and reclined in his chair, hands folded neatly across his trim stomach. His voice was stern and heavy with disapproval.
"Benjamin, I remember speaking to you on several occasions about the notion of buying me gifts."
Ben snorted, hands clasped behind his back. "Who says I bought it?"
"Did you not?"
"... Well, yeah."
"Mhm."
Scuffing his sneaker against the fine carpet, Ben took a step closer. Hannibal tried not to smile at the shine in his eyes, keeping his face grim. Finally heaving a sigh of defeat, he lifted himself out of his chair and asked with a voice of an exasperated adult.
"May I see it?"
Ben's grin split his face as he pulled the envelope out from behind his back holding it out to the doctor and waiting until he took it, his nonchalant attempt at a casual voice in vain.
"Just a little something I picked up. Looked like your kinda thing." Hannibal eyed him for a moment longer before carefully opening the envelope, letting the plastic sealed parchment within fall into his hand. It took him less than seconds to identify the century old ink on the paper, the markings that had orchestrated music to soothe the souls of demons themselves. Maroon eyes widened, words disappearing from his tongue as he simply stared. How had Ben...how did...
"My...God." Was all that came out, jerky and stuttered. Ben's arm slid around Hannibal's waist and his lips landed on the doctor's cheek, grinning like a buffoon.
"Good, I got the right one."
Peeling his eyes away from the priceless treasure he held in his hands, Dr. Lecter turned instead to the one who stood beside him. This would have cost a fortune, even for him. Something Ben had saved for, hunted for, listened to Hannibal's every word to know he listened to.
The "I love you" had come before Hannibal could think of what he was saying. Lost in physical pleasure and the rapture of Ben's words, the flowery declaration was poured out before his brain could begin to comprehend the damage it would cause. Ben did not love him, he loved Gabriel. The lies that ran like poison in his veins had been silenced for a long time, small enough that Hannibal could crush them underfoot, but not this one. Not when it came to a matter so serious as love. How could he love a man and not tell him his own name? How dare he offer his love to a man of such calibre as Benjamin and not even allow him to know his bloodline, his given name, who he was.
Ben's own smile faltered as Gabriel's died in his eyes, the doctor's brief joy quickly swallowed by something darker. Clearing his throat, Huntington stepped back from Ben's embrace and smiled thinly, setting the parchment atop his desk.
"Yes, well. Thank you. We will still need to check it for authenticity, of course...but I do appreciate the gesture. Truly, Benjamin."
"Whoa, hey now...What happened?" Ben's voice was wary, watching as the doctor's guard came back up and he sidestepped the question.
"I really do need to get back to work."
"You need to tell me what's wrong, first. Second ago you were happier n' a pig in shit, and now you're-"
"Busy." Gabriel snapped, maroon points in his eyes swirling like sparks in a wildfire.
"You weren't busy two motherfuckin' seconds ago. Jesus Christ." Ben spat, advancing on Gabriel. "You PMS'ing or something? Tell me what's wrong."
"Nothing. Is. Wrong." Hannibal growled, hands clenched around the edge of his desk. Everything is wrong. You and I are wrong. You loving me is wrong. "Now get out."
Ben turned away from Gabriel and walked out without another word of complaint, confusion and hurt a potent concoction in his head and heart. What had he done? He'd never been that pissed about Ben spending money before. Sure, annoyed...but that was more for show. The fuck was wrong?
Sinking back into his chair, Hannibal let his elbows rest on his desk as he cradled his face in hands, closing his eyes. What could he do? He couldn't lie to Benjamin forever. To anyone else, he could speak lies to like it was his second tongue, but not with this man. He had meant it when he had said he loved him. Would Ben believe that, if he told him who he really was? Would he believe anything he had ever told him? All of their talks, every moment spent laying at each others sides, every kiss and touch in the dark would be tainted. Benjamin would know he had loved a snake, and it would be over. Santa Monica would be a thing of the past, a happy dream too soon poisoned by the demons that resided in Hannibal's chest. He had once thought that perhaps Ben could quiet them, maybe even kill them, but it had been foolish to think so. Ben had forced them to hide deeper, and would have vanquished them altogether if the doctor would have let him. But Hannibal had fed them, kept them warm.
Looking through his fingers at the aged parchment before him, the ink seemed to bleed on the page, blur before Hannibal's eyes. He was alarmed for a moment, reaching forward to save the precious gift that Ben had brought to him before a warmth on his cheek made him freeze. Reaching up to cautiously touch his face, the doctor withdrew his hand to see the drop of saltwater suspended from his fingertip, still warm. He could not remember the last time he had cried.
Ben watched everything that came on TV. SportsCentre reruns, old sitcoms, cheesy soaps and everything in between. When he looked up at the clock again it was 11:30 pm, the city outside humming with nightlife. It was a stark contrast to the darkness of the house, silent save for the ticking of the grandfather clock and the muted noise of the television that Ben was not really watching. Gabriel hadn't come out of his study for over 6 hours. Not to grab a drink, pick up the phone that had rung on more than one occasion, not to apologize. It was confusing, and painful, and Ben had to bear down hard not to be angry.
Sure, Gabriel was moody. He'd been a moody motherfucker since Ben had first met him, sourpuss one second and a teddy bear the next. It was rough weathering shit with him sometimes, but he'd never thought even for a second of spending a day not dealing with it. Gabriel's brand of insanity was addictive, more so than the whiskey he'd favoured for so long, the weed he still hit from here and there. That was nothing compared to a touch, to the taste of Huntington's mouth, the murmured "I love you" when he thought Ben was sleeping.
Heaving himself up off the couch, Ben started at a march towards the doctor's study, pausing and cursing softly. This wasn't gonna turn into a fight. If he had to stay there all night and physically restrain himself from punching Gabriel in the fucking teeth, he'd do it. But he wasn't gonna fight with the man, not tonight. Shit, wasn't this supposed to be easier with two guys? No chick in the mix, maybe he could just walk in, slug him in the shoulder and take a punch back, and they'd be good. But Gabriel didn't work like that. He hit with words, hard and where it stayed with you.
He didn't knock when he opened the door. Stepping in, every light in the office was on, as if to chase away any shadows that may have been lurking.
"Little bright, huh?" Ben tried for a laugh and received nothing. Gabriel was still as stone in the center of the room, leaning up against his desk with his hand held up to his face. He rubbed absently at his chin as though contemplating some deep, universe shifting problem, staring at nothing and not moving at Ben's entry. His eyes were red.
"Gabriel...?" Something heavy fell into Ben's chest at the sight of the doctor's eyes, red with what he could recognize as tears. "Shit... say something to me, Gabriel." His steps grew faster as he approached the doctor, something stopping him from touching the older man. There was a difference in Gabriel's face that scared Ben more than anger, more than sadness. There was hopeless resolution, the look of a man who had accepted his fate with a hollow heart.
"I lied."
The words came after a long pause, long enough Ben's heart had begun to race and he had briefly thought of shaking the older man to get him to say something. Ben leaned closer, unsure if he had caught the words correctly. They didn't sound right coming from Gabriel, the soft, accented voice of the doctor empty of something that had before given it life. The quiet hum of Huntington's laptop was the only sound beside the clock and the pounding of Ben's heart.
"I didn't hear you, baby...say again?" Ben never called Gabriel that. It elicited nothing but a look of disgust and resulted in howls of laughter from Ben's end. There was no reaction from Gabriel, nothing at all. The doctor's lips parted and he spoke again, his voice only a fraction louder.
"I lied to you."
Ben felt cold. HIs head bent to watch Gabriel's eyes, he nodded slowly.
"Alright... alright. What did you lie to me about?"
Hannibal's gaze rose from the point in space it had rested on and his eyes stung with dryness. He blinked, met Ben's stare, blinked again. He felt strangely numb, the anguish he had prepared himself for muted by an instinct he had used many times in his life and only taken away by Benjamin.
"I'm not Gabriel Huntington." Ben's shoulders sagged and a bolt of pain made its way to Hannibal's heart before his armour could stop it, scrambling to numb him again. There was relief in Ben's voice, a little chuckle when he spoke.
"Shit... I thought you were about ta say you'd found yourself a woman." Ben's hand gently brushed Hannibal's bare forearm, his voice solemn. "Doc, you could be the Tylenol Killer and I'd still love ya ta pieces. Okay?"
Gabriel's short laugh sounded far too much like a broken sob for Ben's taste. Pulling away from the younger man's touch, the doctor reached behind him to turn the laptop screen towards Ben. On the screen lay the ten grim faces of the FBI's Most Wanted, grey in old mugshots. Ben's brow furrowed in confusion, looking up into the dead eyes of Dr. Gabriel Huntington before him. Hannibal Lecter's voice held the last of his strength.
"See anyone familiar?" he asked. Ben looked again, a freezing feeling of dread once more creeping through his veins, eyes flicking over the faces and praying to any god that might be listening that this was just a sick fucking joke. Dr. Hannibal Lecter looked up at him with the same maroon eyes he had looked into time and time again, with the same mouth he had tasted and the same face he'd touched. Ben felt sick.
Hannibal watched with a shallow humming in his ears as Ben took a step back, quickly followed by another. Disappointment, disgust, fear clashed on his face as his eyes came back to Dr. Lecter's, shaking his head as he kept retreating. He didn't say anything. He didn't have to.
"I'll be gone by morning. You will never see me again, you needn't worry. I meant it when I said I loved you." Hannibal's voice was soft, resigned and sad.
Ben stared into the face of a stranger for a long minute, before he spun on his heel and bolted from the study as fast as he could run.
He took Hannibal's heart with him.