7 ways to cook a human

[mayalaen]

After not writing for about a year, I decided it was time, and set myself a goal of writing at least once a day, even if it’s only a little.

Below is what I wrote on that first day. Kind of a stream-of-consciousness thing that I’m not used to doing. I haven’t made it to number seven yet :)

Fandom: Hannibal
Pairing: can be read as genfic, pre-Hannigram, or Hannigram
Theme: 7 ways to cook a human in 5+1 6+1 style

7 Ways to Cook a Human
1. coddling (heating food in water kept just below the boiling point)

It wasn’t often that one had the pleasure of watching someone unravel so slowly and so beautifully. A poke here, a prod there. Never pushing too much, but always keeping him just this side of the boiling point.

“Don’t.” Soft. A murmur. Almost an afterthought. A blue gaze of daggers aimed at Hannibal from under a fringe of messy hair.

A barely-there smile. Something no one else would notice, but of course Will noticed. He always did. “I’m not sure what you’re referring to.” A lie.

“Just don’t.” He didn’t bother glaring at Hannibal this time. Too overwhelmed by the number of people in the restaurant to focus on any one thing for a length of time, even if that thing was Hannibal.  “We’re not here on a grocery shopping trip.”

Hannibal moved his knife a fraction of a centimeter to his left and tried to catch Will’s eye, ducking his head just a bit. “Are you not hungry?”

Will sighed.  “I am.”  He moved his own knife three inches away from the plate. A petty thing to do, but satisfying all the same when Hannibal shifted ever so slightly in irritation.  “What did you order me?”

“Peeping mushrooms,” Hannibal said without even a hint of amusement.

“What?” Will asked, looking Hannibal in the eye. A tiny twitch of Hannibal’s upper lip had Will shaking his head.  “Clever.”

A slight nod in Will’s direction before the server poured a small amount of wine into Hannibal’s glass, allowing him to taste and approve of it before filling their glasses.

“He’s too old,” Will said, turning his wine glass and watching as the motion bunched up the tablecloth.

A shift in the mood at the table that was palpable even though Hannibal didn’t move a muscle.  The waiter came, presenting the plates and setting each one before them in turn.

Will’s eyes were on the peeping mushrooms, sprouting up from the middle of each penne. The sauce was heavy and smelled delicious. “The granddaughter would be much more tender.”

“Will that be all, sir?” the water asked.

“Uh, uhm yes,” Hannibal said, the last word bitten off in irritation at his own vulnerability.  His composure lost for just a moment before he gathered it again.

Will ignored him in favor of picking up a mushroom and examining it closely.

“Is your silverware dirty?” Hannibal asked, picking up his knife and fork. Passive aggressive censure.

“No,” Will said, turning the mushroom this way and that before popping it into his mouth and smiling at Hannibal.  “Peeping mushrooms look like a finger food.”

Hannibal took a cleansing breath as he cut his meat.  Maybe he was a little more vicious with it than he normally would be.

Will picked up his spoon, noting Hannibal’s shoulders dropping a tiny bit in relief.  Will was just getting started for the night, and he needed to tread carefully.  He needed to keep Hannibal just below the boiling point.