Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/7453672.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Graphic_Depictions_Of_Violence, Major_Character_Death, Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Hannibal_(TV)
  Relationship:
      Will_Graham/Hannibal_Lecter
  Character:
      Matthew_Brown, Brian_Zeller, Bedelia_Du_Maurier, Jack_Crawfor, Alana
      Bloom, Jimmy_Price, Beverly_Katz
  Additional Tags:
      dubious_conscent, Extremely_Underage, Slow_Burn, Build_up, I.E._you_will
      have_to_wait_for_the_porn_people, Cannibalism, Top_Hannibal, Bottom_Will,
      Violence, Blood, Demons, Angels, Incest
  Stats:
      Published: 2016-07-27 Chapters: 1/? Words: 1887
****** Fallen Stars ******
by XxSavageGracexX
Summary
     Hannibal is a fallen Angel. Mads is a shitty father. When Hannibal
     needs a suitable vessel Mads seems like the ticket. However, Hannibal
     wasn't expecting to become a father to Mad's you son, Will, a lonely,
     and abused boy with a gift most unique.
                                  Present_Day
                                        
Will came to slowly, opening his eyes in a slow blink that did nothing to clear
away the bleariness. His body was stiff, his joints sluggish, as if they were
submerged in wet cement. His mind was in no better shape. It was as thought
there was a swamp of black sludge slowly seeping its way through
the grooves and crevasses in his brain, clogging up his synapses. One more
attempt at opening his eyes proved minimally more successful than the last as
the darkness slowly gave way to actual shapes instead of mere spattering of
dark smudges. The pain behind his eyes receded and he was finally able to make
out the world around him.
The window next to his bed showcased the night sky and the cornfield just
beyond. He sat up with a start regretting it immediately when his world spun
and his balance gave way. He caught himself on the night stand beside him and
righted himself with much more care. His room was shrouded in darkness aside
from the light that was spilling through his window from the half-moon, his
curtains having been drawn back at some point. The crumbling book shelf
across from his bed matched the just as unfortunate desk and sawed down
barstool for a chair, were mostly in shadow. His homework still sat atop the
desk, half finished and haphazardly scattered around. 
He brushed back the wild sweaty curls from his forehead noting that he must
have had a nightmare at some point. He shuffled his  blankets aside, once again
amazed at how soft these new ones were, the tan duvet with its thick intricate
patterns and soft under cover were always a marvel to him. Just a mere few
months prior he was huddled up under nothing but a sheet. So many things had
changed in such short time and he wasn't sure whether or not he would ever get
used to it. He shook his head at himself at the very thought. He wasn't going
to get used to any of this, no matter how enticing it was.
It was at the end of his thoughts that he smelled it. A delicious smell he
could not put a finger on other than to groan along with his empty stomach. He
lifted his pointed little nose into the air to chase the intoxicating, aroma
his bright blue eyes dancing behind his closed eyelids. He opened his eyes and
his sight slid toward his cracked bedroom door;trepidation set it. He took a
deep breath and set his feet onto the old stained carpet. The only forgiving
property to the carpet was its 70's brown tint which hid the multitude of sins
absorbed into the abused and worn fibers. 
Will made his way down the hallway as quietly as possible. He didn't want to
alert Mads of his presence right away. He came to the edge of the relatively
short hallway, fingers skimming silently over the brown tinged walls. The paint
had never been freshened up in the 9 years they had lived in the standing
trailer. He peeked his head around the corner, taking good measure to remain as
out of sight as possible. 
He watched Mads partake in his new favorite past-time; cooking. His father
hadn't shown much interest in anything, least of all his son, his entire life.
Mads' only interest was drinking, fucking, and ordering Will around when he
remembered he had a child. Three months prior, the perpetual drinker and
violent deviant had been his usual self, working, drinking and yelling. Nothing
out of the ordinary and then over night the man had taken up cooking. He
couldn't remember a time when his father had made him anything more than
something that came out of a freezer.
He sat down at the table as Mads sat a plate with some sort of meat wrapped in
another meat, a salad with nuts and a sweet and tangy sauce and a mix of
 vegetables he had never seen before with a sweep of some sort of glaze around
them. Will stared at the plate for a while, but once he looked up, catching the
stern eye of Mads, he picked up his fork. They ate in relative silence, nothing
but the heavy whir of the wind rattling the old and tired black shingles on
their mobile home. It was approaching October quickly and the air was already
changing, crackling with the telltale bite of the winter to come. The sky was
dark and the clouds were almost black in color, ready to open their depths and
release their barely contained dams.
Will didn't stop staring at his food even as he felt Mads' eyes on him
intently,his plate now empty and his beer mostly untouched.
"I wanted to talk to you about something." Will tensed visibly but attempted to
keep himself as neutral and nonchalant as possible. Mads noticed. 
"O-okay." Will said nothing further continuing to have a staring match with the
meat on his plate. "Talks" with Mads generally ended with hand prints and
bruises on his body and maybe a bloody nose for good measure. 
"LOOK AT ME!" Will jumped, dropping his knife. They both listened to it skitter
across the kitchen floor, stopping when it collided with a cabinet. His teeth
chattered and his eyes watered.
He raised his large blue eyes, his cheeks, red with embarrassment and fear
spattered with little chocolate freckles. Mads had that dark look in his eyes,
their chocolate gleam so unlike Will was used too. They were almost black. He
shivered more and tried to make himself smaller in his seat. Mads took a deep
breath through his nose, closing his captivating eyes and finally releasing
Will from his spell. 
"I just want us to be better." Mads started again, fidgeting with the label on
his beer. Will's eyes became glued to the action. It would be so easy, he
thought.  He closed his eyes and the pendulum swung, the darkness surrounded
him as he reached out to the memories of a serial killer he had seen on CSI. He
opened his eyes and everything slowed down, the bottle glinted off the
fluorescent overhead light and his eyes shifted from the bottle to the edge of
the table and measured the best angle to crack it to get the sharpest edge.
Without much hesitation he grabbed the bottle, Mads, slowed down by the fact
that he had spent the last 9 years drunk out of his mind most of the time, was
slow to react. His eyes widened as he watched his generally docile and obedient
son crack the bottle on the edge of the lopsided wooden table, propped up by a
beer cap on one leg to keep it from teetering. The jagged ends of the bottle
sliced into his jugular expertly, as though Will had done this before. Mads
eyes shifted down to the arterial gush of warm crimson blood as it spewed from
her body and painted the kitchen red. 
Mads fell to the floor, flopping around in his own blood like a fish on a deck.
He brought his large tanned hands to his throat to try and quench the stream
but the gash was thick, deep and thorough. Will took pleasure in the wide look
of horror on his father's face as he approached him with his fork in hand. He
knelt down as Mads opened his mouth to say... what? Will didn't know, or care.
He lifted the fork aiming right for his left eye...
BOOM!
Will jumped in his seat, blinking owlishly at his father. The man was turning
red and his fist was even redder from the amount of force he had used to slam
it on the table to get his son's wandering attention. 
"What do i have to do? Huh?" Will licked his dry lips and wanted badly to reach
for his water but didn't want to chance furthering Mads' wrath. 
"I'm- so-sorry." Will stammered looking at his lap allowing his unruly curls to
hide his eyes.
"I don't want to hurt you boy, but you make it damn hard when you do that
shit." His father's Danish accent was heavier when he was piss drunk or angry.
Right now he was a little of both.
"I-I-I know." He chanced a glance at the bottle on the table again but quickly
diverted his eyes, knowing he would never do it. "Sorry."
Mads ran his hand down his face and took another swig of beer. "Look, I just
want us to have a better relationship, okay?" Will did look up at that. He
cocked his head to the side and assessed his Mads for the first time in a long
time. Generally he avoided the man altogether but this was beyond new. His
whole life he had waited for this man just to merely acknowledge his existence
beyond yelling at him and now he wanted to actually be a father? "I know I
haven't been the greatest dad but I, I wanna try? Okay?"
Will hesitated, not knowing if this was real or a dream. This seemed much more
lucid that his dream state, he was clear and the colors weren't murky and hazy.
He scratched his jagged fingernails down his tattered sweats, feeling the
scrape through the rough fabric against his sensitive skin. Shit.
"Oh.... Um... Okay." He looked back down again, finding his food more
interesting this time around than the last twenty times he had stared at it.
"I know I've been a shit dad and yeah, you're 12 now but I can still try again
right? I mean people do this shit all the time, right?" 

Will looked at the scratched linoleum floor and shrugged. The answer was no
probably, but he wasn't going to say that with the man only an arm length away
for a slap.
"Yeah, yeah. I don't see why we can't start now, right?"
Will let his mind think back to his mother's death, moving from their house to
the slums because his father had lost his well-paying job and spiraled into a
world of empty bottles and emptier one-night stands. He thought of the time he
was thrown through a wall for asking Mads why they had no food like the other
kids. He looked over his shoulder at the TV which was barely covering the
terrible patch job Mads had done while mostly drunk a few days after the
incident. He looked at their shitty trailer home and then over at his equally
shitty father and reached under the table, reaching under the ledge and locking
his small hand around the heavy gun he had wedged into the gap and duct taped
for extra measure.
"I do." He says finally, looking Mads in the eye.
Mads looks genuinely shocked at the boy's answer. He opens and closes his mouth
a few times and finally asks, "You do?"
"Yeah." Will says timidly.
"What's that?"
With a shaky hand, Will brandishes the gun aiming straight at Mads' chest. The
heavy metal of the pistol glints off the dingy light of the kitchen. His hand
has a slight tremor to it but his arm never waivers from its target.
"You aren't my father."
Hannibal smiles.
 
 
 
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BANG!
 
 
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