Walter grumbled at the cold of the ice over his knee, complete and utter boredom over taking him. Morgan was fast asleep, knocked out most likely for the rest of the day from some cocktail of drugs Hannibal had cooked up for the boy. Hannibal had gone out for the afternoon going wherever the hell a Hannibal Lecter would go and that had left Walter in the living room with a silent Will who was busy at his desk with a lure.

"Your thoughts are loud today, Wally," Will muttered though his voice was far more distracted than present.

"How could you possibly know what I'm thinking?" Walter hissed out through his teeth, the same frustration in his tone that had been there since the night before. "I know you have some weird superpower where you can see things that have happened, but you can't read minds. I'm not stupid."

"Superpower?"

"That's what Hannibal calls it." Will stopped his work and turned to look at Walter who met his gaze before correcting himself. "Father." Walter huffed out in annoyance and dropped back onto the couch. "Why can't we have a TV? I'm so damn bored!"

"Would you like me to teach you something?" Will questioned, getting from his desk, and pushing in his chair.

"If it's how to make a lure, not really," Walter grumbled, pushing the palms of his hands into his eyes until there were swirling shapes. He could make out Will's nearly silent footsteps over to the couch and then felt the couch near his head dip down as Will took a seat. Fingers began to brush lovingly through his hair and Walter moved his hands away from his eyes so he could look up at a thoughtful Will. "What?"

"You asked me to teach you how to do this a few years ago. Are you still interested?"

Walter's brows knitted together in confusion as he racked his head for what Will could possibly be speaking about. Walter felt like he always got whatever he possibly asked for, which was also just as infuriating as being told no, but for the life of him he couldn't exactly pinpoint what Will was referring to.

"Think of another life," Will supplied in a whisper, fingers still brushing through Walter's hair. "At a dinner at a fancy new restaurant." A small smile pulled at Will's lips as realization bloomed over his son's face. It was always so satisfying when his children found the answers on their own. Their eyes lit up and a smile would pull at their lips and there was nothing Will loved more than his children's happiness. "Do you remember?"

"You said it was something that you couldn't teach me."

"I still don't know if I can teach you. It's a disorder."

"No, it's not," Walter shot back, nose scrunched up in dislike and he shook his head, tipping his head back a bit more to look over Will. "Father thinks it's special so it must be."

Will laughed brightly and shook his head. "Stop liking your father so much. It's unnatural."

"I'm going to tell him you said that." Walter sat up, pulling the ice from his knee so that he could lower his feet to the floor to be face to face with Will. "Ok, how do you read minds? Teach me."

Will chuckled with a shake of his head. "It's not reading minds. It's more..." Will trailed off for a moment, eyes looking up and to the right in thought. "You have to think of it as literally walking a mile in another person's shoes."

Walter rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah. Be the other person."

Will shook his head with a gentle smile. "You have no idea."

Walter stopped and tipped his head to the side, shifting on the couch to turn to face Will a bit more. "You become the other person?"

"You don't so much as read minds as you take in the information around you and read their emotions," Will further explained. "You have to observe. You have to find the smallest details in the room and understand them, use them to build the picture of the person in your mind and then embody it. You have to understand and share the feelings of another person."

"Simple enough." Walter shrugged but paused his smugness when he saw Will's gentle smile. The same smile that Will always used when one of them didn't understand something the way that they needed to. Something that told him that he was close but wasn't quite grasping what was being put in front of him. "What?"

"You're too headstrong." Will tapped Walter's forehead and Walter swatted at the man's head. "You're too proud and I blame Hannibal for that." Will pushed himself up from the couch and Walter had to turn with an arm over the back to watch as his dad went for the kitchen.

"But Hannibal can do it too, can't he?"

"No."

Will opened the little wine fridge and dug through it for a moment before turning around with a plate that Walter knew all too well. A plate with the last brownie from a dessert several nights ago that he hid for himself for when he could sneak downstairs during the night and eat it. With his knee, there was no sneaking, so there it had sat, teasing him. His secret place in the fridge where he always shoved everything he wanted to hide. Behind the wine. Hannibal might have drunk a lot of wine, but it was always full. Once one bottle was pulled, another was put in place, so Walter thought that his hiding spot was flawless. Obviously not to Will.

Soon Will was sitting next to Walter with the plate in hand. "You're going to hate me for this, but it's important," Will explained, pulling back the cloth over the top of the plate.

"How long have you known?" Walter asked in a grumble.

"You need to stop stepping in the middle of the stairs. They make noise at night. Use the outside of the stairs. They will support your weight better," Will explained as he put the brownie to his lips and took a bite out of it, watching Walter frown. "What's wrong?" Will asked innocently through his mouthful.

"You know that was mine," Walter grumbled.

"And you know that Hannibal will make you brownies any time you ask. There's no need to hoard food anymore Wally," Will said before taking another bite.

Walter rolled his eyes. "What are you trying to teach me by eating my brownie?"

"How are you feeling?"

Walter snickered and shook his head, jaw tight. "More pissed off than I was."

"Good," Will said through the last bite. He set the plate aside and leaned back against the arm of the couch to regard Walter. "Stop being pissed off."

"How the hell am I-"

"Focus," Will instructed, tipping his head to the side, curious if Walter could grasp the concept or not. Walter could mask his feelings if he wanted to, but not feeling them was something else altogether. "Stop whatever else you are doing, end your internal dialogue on other thoughts, and free your mind to give the speaker your attention."

"The speaker?" Walter questioned. "I'm more annoyed by how you ate my-"

"I'm the speaker. How am I feeling?"

"How could I possibly-"

"You need to let your anger go," Will said with a laugh, causing Walter to pout, but fall silent. "I know you're upset about your knee and that I just ate your brownie. I know that yesterday wasn't how you wanted to spend your time, but you need to set all of that aside."

"And what am I looking for if I set those aside?"

"That depends on what you want to find."

What I want to find, Walter repeated in his head as he looked over his dad. The brownie thing he could set aside, even if it really had annoyed him. Will had been right, he could just as Hannibal to make some more and Hannibal would be more than happy to accomplish said task. What Walter was having issues pushing aside was how everything continued to happen to him. How unfair the world felt. How he was shoved out into the open to take the brunt of any attack while Morgan was held back and coddled.

He couldn't blame Morgan. It was just the nature of the beast. Morgan was younger and just came from a smaller build than Walter. Morgan might as well have been a girl with how absolutely glass-like he physically was. Morgan was sensitive and innocent in ways that Walter had to stop being and maybe Will and Hannibal wanted to preserve that for as long as they could, but it wasn't fair. None of it was and that was worse than having to wear a knee brace for a week.

"You're not silencing your mind," Will said, causing Walter to blink from his train of thought. "You need to silence your own head, or you'll never be able to reach out to another person."

"This is ridiculous," Walter grumbled, folding his arms over his chest. He had once upon a time been impressed with Will's abilities, but it had grown far more irritating. The man always seemed to know everything and anything, even if he had been absent.

"Close your eyes and focus on your breathing exercises. When you're ready with what you are wanting to find, reach out to me," Will explained, reaching out a hand and cupping Walter's cheek softly. His thumb brushed over Walter's freckled skin, and he gave an encouraging smile. "Close your eyes, come on."

Walter rolled his eyes once more but obeyed with a huff. He settled into his own body, focusing on steadying his breathing into the 4-7-8 rhythm that Hannibal had taught him. It took about four rounds before Walter's body relaxed, stress slowly melting away, frustration falling and anger, while not fully abandoned, softening.

What do I want to know? Walter asked himself again, now fully able to focus on this question. There had to be something for him to reach out for, to look for. What is Dad feeling? What do I want to know and how is Dad feeling?

Walter wasn't exactly sure how to meld the two ideas together. It was such an odd thing to try to fit them into a singular purpose and it took a minute longer before Walter finally found the right question to be asking instead of the two separate ones.

How do I feel Dad's feelings to the point of learning something?

You need to stop stepping in the middle of the stairs. They make noise at night. Use the outside of the stairs. They will support your weight better.

How did he know that? How did Will know that stairs made less noise when you stepped on the outside of them? Walter supposed it was just basic logic if one took the time to truly think about it, but it sounded like Will had spoken from experience. So, what experience?

Will watched Walter's face carefully, curious as to what the boy was going to pick from. His mind had long since silenced, but his brows were furrowed up in confusion. His nose twitched in dislike at something and then his breathing picked up.

Will couldn't be sure what Walter was seeing, if Walter were seeing anything at all. Will could always see the scenes remade and played out with him as the main character. A first-person video game he couldn't control and just had to wait for the cut scene to finish before he could snap back into the real world.

He was curious if Walter would see anything or if he would be more like Hannibal and just come to logical conclusions, explanations, and answers. Hannibal could pick up on things as quickly as Will could. That was one of the many reasons that he loved Hannibal. The man could keep up with him on a mental level when others couldn't. But Hannibal didn't use empathy to get where he was going. Hannibal didn't feel what others were feeling and Hannibal didn't necessarily care what others were feeling. It helped him stay distant and practical while it drove Will to act with abandon when his emotions ran too high.

A tear slipped down Walter's cheek and Will watched as brown eyes slowly flickered open with damp lashes. Walter looked away from Will and pulled from Will's hand with a sharp inhale. His hand reached up and brushed the tears away from his cheeks.

"I didn't know," Walter whispered, nose only scrunching up further. His voice was thick as he held back more tears. "I'm sorry."

"What did you find?" Will asked carefully, finding Walter's chin and pulling the boy to look at him once more.

"Does it always feel like you're intruding on someone's personal information?" Walter didn't dare meet Will's gaze, but his hand took Will's wrist, fingers gently gliding over Will's pulse point, almost as if Walter were checking it. "I feel like I shouldn't be allowed to know that about you, like I stole something from you."

"What did you find?"

"You're like me," Walter answered, a sad sort of smile playing at his lips as he pushed Will's hand away. He reached out for his brace and slipped his foot into it before placing it at his knee. Velcro ripped loudly through the room. "Or you grew up like I did. You didn't know when your next meal would be and so you had to sneak food." Will watched as Walter pushed himself up from the couch and scooped up the bag of ice to return it to the freezer for later use. "That's how you knew to use the edges of the stairs."

Walter began his limped hobble to the fridge to put away the pack and Will could only stare after him. Once the pack was in the freezer, Walter made his way to the stairs to start up them but turned back at his name.

"Feeling like you're intruding on private information doesn't go away," Will replied. "But it does get easier to deal with."

Walter gave a nod. "I'll keep practicing. There's no way I'll ever be as good as you, though." He turned back to the stairs and left Will alone in the living room, curious as to what Walter had possibly put together about him.

Will cleaned up the plate, checked on the still sleeping Morgan and then returned to his desk, finishing off the lure just as the front door was unlocked and Hannibal swept in, bringing the warm Italian heat with him. Will smiled and got to his feet, moving over to whisk a bag of groceries from Hannibal's grip and give the man a kiss.

"How was the market?" Will asked, setting the paper bag aside on the counter to begin to dig through it to put items away in their respective places.

"Lovely as always," Hannibal replied, adding the second bag to the counter, and following Will suit, each rummaging around the kitchen in a well-rehearsed dance. "You should come with me next time. You would enjoy the selection of fresh fish."

"I can just catch them myself," Will pointed out with a laugh. "The sailboat is good for one thing."

"Not an annoying hindrance?" Hannibal's brows rose in challenge and Will stopped with a hand on a cabinet door, meeting Hannibal's gaze with a cheeky smile. "I seem to recall that-"

"Yes, yes," Will quickly cut in, closing the door loudly before hopping up onto the counter. "So, sue me for changing my opinion." He snatched out a peach from the bag and bit into it, the juices running down his chin and over his hand and wrist. Will wiped at his chin but his arm was snatched up and a tongue trailed delicately over his wrist, causing a shiver to race up his spine. "Hannibal," he whispered, eyes sliding closed as teeth danced over the dip in his palm. "Haven't been dreaming of eating me again, have you?"

There was a thoughtful hum from Hannibal and Will's wrist was released, though Hannibal's touch didn't go far. Instead, it found the hem of Will's button up shirt and slipped underneath it, tracing some new scarring over Will's abdomen, right above his hip. Will's body trembled at the gentleness and his head tipped back enough to allow Hannibal's mouth to find his throat. A tantalizing kiss was placed there while the fingers continued to dance over the scar.

"I'm quite sated at the moment and you've recovered beautifully. Let's not rush things. We have time to enjoy ourselves. Plenty of anniversaries yet to come." There was a tease to Hannibal's tone, but Will was far too lost in the touches and the way Hannibal's warm breath caressed over his neck to find a way to snap back at the man. "Though you are far more divine than I could have thought possible, Mr. Lecter." Another kiss was pressed to Will's neck before a light nip and then Hannibal stepped back, leaving Will in a daze. "Finish your peach dear. Don't let it go to waste."

Will let out a breath that had been trapped somewhere in his chest and let his eyes flicker open. He stared blankly over his husband as Hannibal finished putting away the rest of the groceries before he finally was able to come back to himself enough to take another bite of his peach.

"I tried to teach Walter empathy today," he announced, calling maroon eyes to him. Hannibal's eyes trailed over Will calculatedly before he fetched a paring knife from the knife block and an apple from the fruit bowl on the counter.

"And how did that go?" The knife sliced into the apple easily and Hannibal brought the slice still held to the knife blade to his mouth. It crunched through the small kitchen and Hannibal leaned against the counter, getting comfortable for the train wreck he was sure was going to come.

Will shrugged around another bite of peach. "Not sure. I'm not sure if he just guessed or if he understood."

"What did he say?"

Will's brows furrowed and he blinked as his head tipped to the side. "I was trying to get him to read something about me. He cried a little and said that we grew up the same. Mentioned something about having enough to eat and then went to his room."

Hannibal bit into another slice of apple in quiet thought. "He wasn't wrong."

"I know." Will lowered himself from the counter and tossed the peach pit into the garbage before moving to the sink to wash the stickiness from his hands. "I just wish I knew how he reached the conclusion. I don't know if what I was teaching made any sense or if-"

"Empathy can be taught," Hannibal interrupted gently. "Your gift cannot be simply passed on. Despite how hard I might try, I could never recreate the same details that you are able to."

"You? Empathize?" Will snorted out his laughter as he turned off the sink. "It's hard enough to get you to sympathize, let alone empathize."

"Don't test me while I have a knife in my hand, Will," Hannibal warned, though there was a brightness to his eyes. Will laughed again and shook his head. He stepped closer to Hannibal, invading the man's space to the point where Hannibal had to move his arms to allow Will to rest against his chest. Will nuzzled there, hugging around Hannibal's middle. "Have you checked on Morgan lately?"

"Just before you came home. Still out."

"I would expect so. He'll build up a tolerance soon enough." Will's curls received a kiss from Hannibal and Will just snuggled in closer to his husband's body. "Yours still needs some work as well."

"You don't want me to gain a tolerance," Will pointed out. "We wouldn't be able to have as much fun if you couldn't drug me every now and then, right?" Will kissed over Hannibal's heart and leaned back to kiss Hannibal's lips that tasted faintly of apples. "Are we still going out tomorrow?"

"I have everything set up with Signora Pia. The boys will be there tomorrow morning."

"And if we are being followed, what then?" Will shifted uncomfortably against Hannibal's chest and Hannibal sighed, setting the knife and apple aside to hug Will to his chest. Hannibal rested his cheek against Will's head and inhaled deeply.

"Then we take them out and we move again," Hannibal answered softly with just a hint of regret in his voice. "We knew that people would be after us. We knew from the beginning that we wouldn't just be allowed to live."

"Is it childish of me to hope that someday that might still happen?" Will nuzzled himself further against Hannibal, inhaling deeply of the warm summer heat of the outside world and the rainy forest that made up Hannibal's scent. "Is it pathetic that I still pray that Jack will give up? That our old life will just die? That it had just died when we left Verger Manner the last time?"

"Your hope is dazzling, Will," Hannibal assured. "There is nothing wrong with wanting something." Fingers brushed through Will's curls kindly and Hannibal nuzzled his nose into the cinnamon tinted hair. "Never lose it."

"I just wish we could live somewhere for more than a year before having to pack up and leave again." Will pulled himself free from Hannibal's grip and took a step back, running his fingers through his curls. "Wouldn't it be nice to just be able to stay in one place for a bit? Get something a bit more stable?"

Hannibal took back up his knife and apple and cut off another slice, bringing it to his lips. "Of course it would be nice, Will."

"But unrealistic." Will gave a deep sigh and turned away from Hannibal, hands taking the island so he could lean against it. He could make out the crunch of the apple behind him and then a slow step towards him. Will rolled his eyes with a smile and glanced back over his shoulder. "I know, I know," he grumbled with a small laugh.

Hannibal's brow ticked up curiously in question as he ate another slice of apple. "I didn't say a thing, my love."

"You don't have to," Will explained, giving a shrug of his shoulders. "I love you Will. Your head is in the clouds again, Will. Think about the safety of the children, Will." Will turned back around and was greeted with some of the apple held out on the blade of the knife towards him. He took it and placed it in his mouth, closing his eyes to enjoy the simpleness of the fruit. Something that Hannibal had been trying to teach him to do. To enjoy every small little thing because even the small things were wonderful and needed to be treated just as the big things in life were. "I'm sorry I keep bringing up this conversation. I should be past it."

"The fact that you keep bringing it up and think you should be past it means that you're not ready to explore the meaning behind it and there is something you need to continue to work out. When you are ready to let it go, your mind will have finished processing it and will let it go."

"You never stop being a psychiatrist, do you?" Will teased.

Hannibal went to work throwing the core of the apple away and went to the sink to wash the knife. "Do you ever stop being a profiler?"

Will snorted and folded his arms over his chest. "I haven't been a profiler in years, Hannibal."

"But yesterday at the market you saw something," Hannibal pointed out as he placed the knife in the drying rack. He reached out for the hand towel next to the sink to dry his hands. "You always see something even if it's an old man picking up a card for an anniversary for his wife who passed away. You don't stop." Fingers dug into his sides and Hannibal jumped, heart picking up a tick despite the fact that he didn't want it to. He turned back to Will who was smiling widely like a fool and couldn't help the dark tip of his own lips. "Will, I thought we discussed-"

"It's not my fault that you're ticklish," Will shot back with a snort. "It fits you in an odd sort of way, you know."

"How?" Hannibal grumbled, tossing the towel at Will who caught it. Will stepped over to the sink with a shrug and folded the damp towel up to put it back in its place.

"Something so monstrous and strong as you would have a weakness as silly as being ticklish." Will said it lightly, simply, as if there were nothing more to it.

"You and those children are my weakness, Will. Not some panic response to being touched."

"Awe," Will taunted with a smirk, turning back to Hannibal, and snatching up the man's loose tie, pulling on it to bend Hannibal down to Will's height. "Don't be so loud. Someone might notice that you care." Will pressed a kiss to Hannibal's lips swiftly but didn't release his grip on the tie. He just held to the fabric to keep Hannibal in mild submission.

"I do care," Hannibal muttered out in a voice that sounded nearly like confusion to Will as if Will had never before considered the idea of Hannibal actually caring. But Will knew better. He knew that everything Hannibal did was out of care for the three of them. Even the infuriatingly maddening things were done with the idea of utmost care possible. With a kind smile, Will leaned forward and gave another kiss to Hannibal letting this one linger a little longer before his free hand reached out and once more found Hannibal's side, digging into it. Hannibal jumped back with a sharp inhale and narrowed eyes. "Will," he hissed.

A smile split over Will's lips, and he dropped the cannibal's tie, racing around the island and through the house with the killer's hurried footsteps close behind him. Will rounded the piano in the music room, but before he could make it to the study and the safety of a locked door, an arm snatched up his waist and he was pulled to the floor and pinned to the hardwood with a stronger body over the top of his, his laughter broken up with kisses.

"Incorrigible little boy," Hannibal muttered between kisses, hands making sure to have a firm grip on Will's wrists so that he couldn't reach out and touch again.

Walter wasn't entirely sure if he had imagined the images that came to his head when he was exploring his dad's own. He let his eyes slide closed as he listened boredly to Morgan's slow and steady breathing. His uninjured foot swung him back and forth in Morgan's desk chair as the conjured images came back to his mind's eye.

They were blurry at best, faded and muddled around the edges as if he were trying to grasp something that was on the cusp of passing out of existence. The voices and actions within said pictures were so muffled that Walter felt like he was straining to hear them, even though it was just his mind creating the scenes.

Walter had never seen pictures of Will as a child, but the idea of a skinny, scrawny, dirty boy with insane and untamed curls was put in place. The adult, Walter was pretty sure it was a father figure of some sort, was just a blob with a warped voice like the grownups in the Peanuts movies.

But that slap felt as real as the first time Walter had been hit by one of his mother's many questionable suitors. A curly haired child fell to the ground and was kicked, maybe with steel toed boots. It felt more correct than looked more correct and Walter had to wonder how much of this he had made up and how much was being pulled from reality.

He could see a young child climb from bed and step through rotting trailers and motel rooms, each and every step perfectly calculated. Each creak in the floor was memorized and mapped out in the child's mind. Walter had tried to sneak out a handful of times, but each was unsuccessful. Either there was absolutely nothing to eat or there was a drunk beating waiting for him and so he quickly ditched the ventures from his room and just allowed his stomach to growl angrily at him until he finally fell asleep because he couldn't be hungry if he was asleep.

One particular place had stairs and just as Will had explained, the young child version of Will made careful work of stepping on the very outside of the steps where there was better support and the floor less likely to bend and creak under his weight.

Walter had never seen himself as Will despite the way that everyone he met told him that he was. Even people who didn't know him could place him next to Will as if he were Will's biological son. It didn't really bother Walter, but it made him wonder if he were his own person or if everyone in similar circumstances growing up ended up in the same twisted way that he did.

Walter could fight it, had fought it tooth and nail for years. He was still fighting it, but he found it harder and harder to find reasons to argue as the days went on. That last night in Germany was enough of a wake up for him. He could chip his teeth, snap his nails, break every bone in his body trying to bulldoze against the force pulling him towards his life, but neither of his parents had lied to him.

Both had been perfectly transparent when they had explained why they were teaching Walter what they were teaching him. Why the guns and the knives and the wilderness survival training. Why the odds and ends that he was nearly positive he would never have to use were shoved down his throat. He wouldn't be alive now if they hadn't been.

Walter nearly snickered as the idea of parents came back to him on the summer breeze through the open window. How long had he denied Hannibal that title? How many years had Hannibal been Sir? And how easily Walter had been broken down, given in. A simple tumble into a hole and a broken leg had been more than enough of a bargaining chip in Hannibal's favor, though Hannibal had never pushed the agenda. It had just been there, waiting to be grabbed a hold of and oh how Walter had snapped at it and used it as a lifeline. How fitting that word of Father seemed in that moment and most moments since then.

"Wally?" A grumbling pulled Walter from his thoughts and mindless swinging in the chair, and he opened his eyes to find a still rather out of it pair of blue eyes looking at him. "Feel sick."

"I'll get Father."