Baltimore Police Vehicle No. 520

Note: This story was inspired by a hilarious and wonderful crack post by Thanks for letting me borrow a few of your words! This is also a gift ficlet for Obviously I’ve taken the term “ficlet” quite loosely, given the word count that resulted. I hope this silly story brings a smile to your face and brightens your day. Be well!


Hannibal could not be in a finer humor as he pulls the commandeered cop car up alongside Will. Will had engineered his escape and was now running off with him to hunt together. Should they emerge from the fight bloodied and victorious, they were going to keep running together, as it always should have been. 

“Going my way?” he flirtatiously asks through the open passenger door. Will looks a little worse for the wear after the accident, but climbs in.

The drive out to Hannibal’s secret beach house is silent at first. Will occupies himself by destroying the vehicle’s two tracking devices. He yanks them out roughly by the wiring and smashes them against the blood spattered dashboard with the only heavy thing he has on hand – the butt of his loaded gun. Hannibal focuses on the road and the smell of Will in the confined space.

The awkward silence drags on and seems so unnecessary, given all that has passed between them. But the shock of sudden proximity and freedom made finding the right words difficult. Hannibal decided to take a direct approach. He wants to put an end, at least for now, to their labrinthine, enigmatic talk.  

“Listen, Will, you needn’t feel obligated and there’s absolutely no pressure to take me up on the invitation, but I’ve been wearing a rather lovely and sizeable steel butt plug consistently since we met five years ago. If you would like to have sex, I’m basically ready to go any time.” 

Will’s jaw drops. “Uh…….Really?”


“Surely Alana didn’t let you do that while you were in jail?”

“Oh, I think Alana Bloom rather enjoyed watching me suffer in my martyrdom for a man who rejected me and refused to visit for three years. Or even write. But these are new days, yes? Let’s turn the page.”

“You actually think that it’s wise to move past the ‘eye-fucking each other while plotting each others’ demise’ phase?’ We’re not exactly good at healthy relationships.”

“That is precisely how it was with us, wasn’t it. I’m so glad we can finally clear that air about that. As I said, new days, Will, new days. As a psychiatrist, I am qualified to say that the courtship part of this relationship is decidedly over. How does that make you feel?”

“Hannibal. Your medical and psychiatric licenses were revoked.”

“Can’t take the skills, though, can they.”

Will scrubs at his curls and takes a long moment to think. “I’m just surprised, I guess.”

“Certainly you knew I had hoped to deepen our entanglement all along.”

“Oh totally. I just always thought when we finally got around to it, you’d insist on being the top.”

The corner of Hannibal’s mouth curls in an amused smirk.

“Well, you know. That’s cool. I’m down for whatever. Now or when we get to the house?”

Hannibal looks at him skeptically. Will doesn’t have time to brace himself for the impact when, in the next instant, Hannibal wrenches the steering wheel hard to the right and runs them off the road. He slams the brakes and they bounce to a stop in a plume of dust and gravel.

“Ow! God dammit, Hannibal! Was I not just in a van that got totaled?! Jesus!” Will rubs at the side of his head that took another bashing, this time against the passenger window.

“Get out of the car.”

“Sure, just give me a sec for my vision to clear.”

“Get out of the car. Get out of the car, Will.” 


“Will. William Graham. Get out of the car. Get out immediately.” 

“I’m going! I’m going! What the hell happened to ‘please’?”

“I will murder you twice if you do not get out of the car this instant.”

“You can’t get murdered twice, you ass!”

“You’re going to find out. Get. Out. Get, get…” A stream of what were undoubtedly some very creative Lithuanian profanities explode from his mouth. 

How many years had Will longed to see the man crack and simply drop an F-bomb or two and finally be forced to admit that he actually had no chill? He thought he covered it sooo well, but he certainly never had an ounce of chill around Will, all gooey eyed and staring at his butt constantly. That was just him being smitten. The full-on opposite explained a lot about Dr. Hannibal Lecter and his favorite past time. It was so patently obvious, though Jack couldn’t see it and Will had never bothered trying to explain. Beneath all that tweed and calm and level voiced façade, there was rage and precisely zero chill. Almost iron control over his person suit, but really no chill. Hannibal’s M.O. was to go into full murder mode when someone bumped into him. Served him the wrong tea. Forgot to say thank you. Hell, he had come right out and said as much to him during a session. They’d joked about it even. Discourteous? Ding, ding. It’s dinnertime. Rude? the Ripper will be with you shortly. It was about time he cut loose without a knife in his hand and let a little of his psycho humanity shine through. How absurd that he chewed him out earlier, telling Will he needed to relax. Pff. Right. Look at the man, he’s lost it.

Will does look at him and his amusement is cut abruptly short when Hannibal lunges across the console and scrambles frantically to undo Will’s seatbelt buckle. Will’s hands shoot up in fearful surrender when he sees him launch at him, not sure if he was going to kiss him or actually kill him. Twice? He doesn’t even want to know. Oh, dammit, now he kind of sees it and wow. Just wow, Hannibal. That is horrifying.

Without an ounce of his usual grace, Hannibal flings the belt off and shoves Will right out the door. Will hits the ground in an awkward heap. Hannibal is at his side in an instant, helping him up. He doesn’t let go of Will’s hand.

“Well I guess that answers that question. Now it’s going to be, then,” Will quips, then smiles at the sight of their clasped hands.

Mmm, how he’d missed those slender, elegant hands ribboned delicately with slim veins. Cooking ‘meat’. Taking notes. Playing harpsichord. Injecting him with psychotropic cocktails. Halfway inside his abdomen while he gutted him and cried. You know. Normal Hannibal things.

Will sighs contentedly.

“What?” Hannibal asks.

Will shrugs his trademark shrug and shakes his head. “You.”

The unexpected word slips through the air and dives straight into Hannibal’s ego – and of course his twisted, dark heart too. Hannibal breaks out into one of those precious toothy smiles only Will can ever seem to elicit from him. It is a smile that reaches up to Hannibal’s eyes and highlights their amber fire. The same smile he couldn’t suppress the very first time they met and he heard Will’s extraordinary mind run galloping along in perfect sync with his – and all the while with such astounding, insubordinate sass. The only thing that saved Will from earning a spot right at the front of his rolodex that day was that Hannibal first glimpsed the supremely beautiful man from behind – before he opened that impossible mouth. Hannibal saw that head full of curls so exquisite they would make the old masters weep. Then he’d taken in the rest of his figure and laid eyes on that rear end of his and his heart stopped short. Not even Will’s shabby attempts to hide his divine proportions under baggy, utilitarian khakis could mask that glorious, firm backside. It didn’t really matter how surly or unspeakably rude he proceeded to be. It was that mind and that body. Hannibal knew he was, as they say, proverbially screwed the second they met. He’d fought it like the devil and lost tremendously. Now he is firmly decided that they are not going to waste any more time.

There, somewhere on a backroad in the middle of nowhere Maryland, the two men take a moment to digest that this finally was about to happen. They can’t stop staring at each other. The mere sight of one’s beloved really could nourish you. Neither realized the other was thinking exactly the same thing and recalling how they would desperately stare at each other’s picture these past three years and try to will the image to life.  

What Will did not know and Hannibal would never confess – he’d confess every last kill of his career before admitting this, it is so embarrassingly undignified- is that when Jack first came to him with Will’s full records, the documents naturally included statements about his short-lived time as a police officer. The photo of a young elfin Will Graham in his uniform, curls even longer and wilder, mysteriously detached itself from the paperwork and found its way into his desk drawer. The mere thought has him blushing now. Can Will tell? The truly dreadful bit – the one that anyone else would feel shame about – is that he took the photo before they’d even met. He can feel his magnificent cheekbones burning red. Will must know. He sees everything, clever boy. Alas, the minor theft couldn’t be helped. Sometimes imagination and sketches simply would not do. A kind nurse had helpfully managed to retrieve it and smuggle it into his cell in the lining of a book. He really could charm anyone. Obviously it is his devastating good looks. And his truly magnificent body. And his lush European accent gilded by his noble origins. And his witty repartee. And his impeccable manners. And…

What Hannibal did not know and…oh shit he’d totally forgotten it! Fuck! Poor Molly is going to find it. God Will really is such a dick. He so deserves whatever insane chaos this madman is going to rain down on him. But what Hannibal didn’t know was that in Italy, Will had been given a chance to review Pazzi’s case files on the man they called Il Mostro. He stopped breathing when he saw a large photograph of a young, sleek Hannibal at approximately age of 30. Hannibal wasn’t smiling in the image and he wore his tie differently, but it was still arresting. It was that same incredible facial architecture, knife-blade cheekbones and his full, generous mouth that begged to be kissed. Will filched it right as Pazzi watched with a quick sleight of hand. He kept it taped on the underside of his office desk drawer where Molly and Walter wouldn’t find it. Damn he wish he hadn’t forgotten that. Maybe Hannibal has another copy knocking about somewhere. Maybe he has whole albums. Will would be willing to bet he did photoshoots when he was younger. Provocative photoshoots. He lived in Paris. Shit he really wanted to see those. At least he is at long last going to see him naked now.

“Hood?” Will asks.

“Obviously hood.”

“Former cop, you’ll recall,” he says raising an impish eyebrow.

“Oh I recall.” 

“Keep that in your memory palace, do you?”

“I survived three years of incarceration, didn’t I?”

Will hums and suppresses a laugh. 

Hannibal is positively shaking with anticipation. Will opens his arms in invitation. “Have at it, baby.”

Hannibal doesn’t hesitate. He grabs his own collar rips his prison onesie open wide. It takes Will a moment to process what he is seeing.

“Really? Commando?” Will eventually says as he’s still soaking up the glory that is Hannibal nude.

“Unfortunately the standard issue undergarments didn’t fit me.”

Will raises his eyebrows in appreciation. He can see the very large reason why that was the case. Good gracious. He’s a little relieved he hadn’t pressed Hannibal about whether he wanted to top.

Unable to wait any longer, Hannibal tackles Will on top of Baltimore Police Vehicle 520. He kisses him furiously, devouring his mouth and pulling at his curls, naughtily slipping a hand right down his backside to finally hold what was his. Will is no less desperate and he tries to pull out of his clothes and still run his hands all over Hannibal’s torso and keep kissing him hungrily. It’s right on top of that warm, white metal on that chilly fall afternoon that Hannibal and Will finally cut to the chase and turn their five-year emotional love affair into a torrid physical romance.

-some three rounds later –

Will is laying exhausted in Hannibal’s arms and Hannibal is lost in nothing short of a religious rapture.

“Seriously? Who wears a butt plug for five years?? You are the biggest freak who ever lived.”

“Anything for you, my boy. Anything. Now, we ought to be on our way. Wouldn’t want Uncle Jack to catch us in such a compromising way.” He passes Will his clothes.

“Sure would make Freddy’s day though.”

“Perhaps we’ll send her a card and a picture when we’re safely out of the country. I think she’d like that.”

“Hannibal! You wouldn’t!”

“What? Just imagine the tawdry headline she would cook up to accompany the snapshot: Murder Husbands Caught in Bed! Cannibal Lovers Perform Filthy Acts of Savagery!

“Alright, cannibal lover, get your fine, bare ass back into that car. We’ve got a Dragon to kill.”

“Indeed, my darling boy. Allow me a minute to make do with what remains of this onesie. I seem to have allowed myself to get caught up in the heat of the moment.”

“To be fair, that heat’s been building for a very long time.”

“Five years, my boy. Five years.”

They climb back into the car, Hannibal more or less still indecently exposed. Kissing once more over the center console, Hannibal puts the car in gear and they head off toward the road that would lead them to the sea.


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