Chapter Text
"Miami? Really?" Will groaned, letting his head fall back. Hannibal chuckled, looking at his husband from the corner of his eye. "Oh, C'mon, dear, you'll like it."
"Yeah, sure. I spent nearly all of my life trying to get away from people just to move into the fucking Miami." he looked at his face, unimpressed.
Hannibal stretched his neck and grabbed a couple of his pants to stack them into his suitcase. "Will, you've been yearning for a change of scenery for months. And sure, it's not exactly Italy or Norway, but it still could be a nice vacation."
"It's not a vacation. We're going there on a case." The Profiler deadpanned. Hannibal walked behind him, wrapping his arms around his middle and kissing his neck. "What's a vacation without a bit of murder? Hm?"
And at that, both of them smiled.
Meeting Matthews was exactly what they expected. The man was arrogant, believing in only his truth. He shook their hands with a firm and quick grasp and asked them about their safe travels. Only polite to save his face. Easily manipulated.
They were briefly introduced to the team; the more important to remember were Detective Quinn, Captain Batista, and the lab rat Masuka. And of course, the most intriguing of them all, Dexter Morgan, the blood analyst.
After signing off some paperwork, they found themselves on a morning meeting, standing behind Thomas Matthews.
"Ladies and gentlemen, it is a pleasure to introduce our newest esteemed guests. This is Will Graham, a Special Agent and Criminal Profiler, and this is Dr. Hannibal Lecter, who is officially his psychologist but also assists the FBI with certain cases. Jack Crawford, a dear friend of mine, has sent them here to help us with the Bay Harbor Butcher case. I expect all of you to act with respect and cooperate as we work to solve this matter."
Hannibal looked around at the team, they weren't anything special. His eyes stuck to a middle-aged man sitting in the back. He was trying so hard to be invisible and stay focused. Hannibal smiled as he was reminded of Will when they first met. But this one was different. He was putting on a fake smile, trying to look social. He was failing horribly, at least to the trained eyes of Will and Hannibal.
Will's eye found the same target only a moment later, his breath getting stuck in his throat. The man was strange. He felt subdued. So many emotions, so much pain and terror, were rooted deep in his bones, but it's like they didn't get past the muscle. They were locked just below the surface like the man didn't even realize he had them. He was interesting.
Matthews called out every member of his team to explain to them what they knew about the case. In the midst of it all, they lost the mystery man. The main man then sent all of the others to continue their jobs and started telling them more about the case. After a moment both of them stopped listening, Hannibal because he noticed that the information he was saying was already written in the file, Will because his mind traveled back to the man with brown hair and cute hiding so much more than any of them could possibly understand.
Both of them were brought back by a clap of hands and they turned to his overbearing, too flashy smile. "Well, I'll tell our best lab tech to show you the newest bodies. I'll see you later. Gentlemen."
They were led into a colder room; it was big and filled with tables, on them, black human-sized bags. Plastic. The vents were running, to make sure they wouldn't suffocate and the bodies didn't start rotting.
Will stepped closer to the bags, looking around. The taller man stood close behind him; his presence was calming, in contrast to the scary shadow he was throwing over the curly-haired man.
A man, the same height as Will, stepped into the room. The one that caught both of their eyes. He was dressed casually, a short-sleeved red button-up t-shirt with simple jeans. It wrapped around his body like a silk blanket, showing off the muscles hiding underneath. He had brown hair, longer than what could be described as short but not long enough to say long. His face had clear, sharp features. Bold eyebrows in the same color as his hair. Empty eyes full of color Will couldn't recognize, pieces of blue, hazel, and brown, maybe even green, swam around lazily. Sharp nose and full lips that begged to be kissed, framed by visible cheekbones and a strong jaw. Cute.
He gestured towards the body pieces with a shrug. "So here they are, some divers found them in trash bags at the bottom of the ocean."
Hannibal raised an eyebrow, snickering under his breath. He didn't even introduce himself. The husbands shared a side glance, both thinking the same thing; rude.
Will shook his head to clear it, he needed to focus. He stepped closer, gripping the table. "These are not the first ones you've found, right?"
The lab tech looked away. He was hiding something, definitely. "...No. A few years back, there were more, back when there was a hunt after Detective Doakes, but there was a technical malfunction; they were destroyed."
While Will was mostly focused on the bodies, Hannibal's eyes were burning through Dexter's back. "A technical malfunction? Why's that?"
The profiler tilted his face, curious. He trusted his husband to know what he was doing, he fixed his glasses so him watching them wouldn't be as obvious.
Dexter turned, shrugging. "Who knows. Could've been anything."
"Or anyone."
"..." He shrugged again, smiling softly. Fake. "Sure. Well, if you have any questions, you know where to find me." he chirped and turned to quickly leave.
"Actually, I do have a question." Hannibal hummed, looking at him face-to-face. He stepped closer, getting into his personal space and looking down at him. He could smell his cologne, cheap but strong enough to hide the stench of blood. Or at least before anyone who wasn't Hannibal Lecter. He was pleased to see that the younger man didn't step back, simply staring back, unmoving. Putting on a brave face so hard, and yet so little would take for him to fall apart.
"Yes?"
"From the files, the previous bodies had a cut on their cheeks; the killer's way of getting trophies, isn't it? Yet... All of the trophies are gone. And the newer bodies no longer have any cuts either."
Oh, Will's eyes widened in understanding. The man before them, that was the man they were looking for. The Bay Harbor Butcher. He wasn't even hiding it, not really. He was so inexperienced and internally confused.
"Well, Mr Lecter-"
"Please, do call me Doctor." Will fought the urge to laugh, always with the titles. So pretentious.
"Right. Well, Doctor-" The way Dexter said it made it sound like a slur. Yes, Will really started to like him. "The 'trophies', as you called them, have been found at Detective Doakes's place, and since then, there haven't been any mentions of them."
"But these victims were not his work." he phrased it like a question, but all of them knew he wasn't asking.
"Detective Doakes died during a fire. The police suspected it was a suicide."
"Just like they suspected that he was the Bay Harbor Butcher?"
Dexter gritted his teeth. He wasn't in control of his own emotions, Will noted. "I'm sorry, but I'm just a lab geek. If you have any questions about the bodies, feel free to ask."
Hannibal, yet again, opened his mouth to speak before Dexter cut him off. "But I'm sure a good doctor like you will manage."
They watched the blood analyst leave, amused and intrigued. He wasn't boring, no, not boring at all. Hannibal draped himself across his husband's back. "Well, my dear, I think we should talk to our new colleague."
Will snickered and kissed the tip of his nose. "First, let's look at the bodies. Let's see what we're working with."
Will left to look for the ingredients that they could use for their dinner. Miami was big, and people weren't as cautious as the ones they normally came into contact with. The hunt was fairly easy.
Meanwhile, Hannibal knocked at the door of Thomas Matthews, for the second time that day. "Good evening."
The other man looked tired but quickly tried to smolder himself down, setting on a small smile. "Ah, Dr Lecter, what can I help you with?"
Hannibal was sure to put on a worried expression and looked down. "Mr Matthews, I do not wish to be rude but I noticed something today."
"Yes? What is it?"
"Mr Morgan. He had a very bad reaction to the bodies." he lied smoothly and was surprised when the other man only sighed, unsurprised.
"Yes, Dexter... I swear that boy is like a son to me. He had a rough time lately. So much bad luck and pain. For some reason, the serial killers always seem to target him."
*Oh, if you only knew...*
"He lost his father, his brother, sister. Then wife and son. His friends... There's nothing but death around him." he sighed, looking at the man from behind his blinds.
Hannibal smirked internally. "Sir, I would like to offer him my services as of therapist. I feel like it would be highly conventional for all of us."
"Therapy, huh? The Morgans were never big on that..."
"But it would help him."
"Yes... Of course, you're right, Dr Lecter. Please, let me talk to him and I'll let you know the details."
"But of course. Have a lovely day, Mr Matthews." with that, he turned on his heel and, with a last glance towards the closed room, he left to find his husband.