Work Header

Just a few kibbles

Work Text:

The only dog Dr. Hannibal Lecter will ever tolerate is his dear friend's dog, Napoleon Bonnieparte. A cream coloured daschaund She calls her dog 'Bonnie'. Hannibal calls it 'Napoleon'. And the dog cares not which name is used whenever he's called, as long as he's the centre of attention. Aside from that annoying trait, Hannibal puts up with him because the dog isn't ever fussy when handled and doesn't ever shed when it scratches its head on Hannibal's leg. 

God forbid, Bedelia would ask him to walk 'Bonnie' to the park while she's with a patient. Hannibal would murder all those dogs and make sure they become 'hotdogs'. 

Currently, Hannibal is carrying 'Emperor Napoleon' across the parking lot to the veterinarian's office today. Just for his monthly check ups. 

Bedelia had left him the number and address to Napoleon's vet and that his doctor was Freddie Lounds. 

Hannibal felt a tad bit rebellious and took Napoleon to the other veterinarian clinic he always pass by to the way to his much adored coffee shop. 

The door clicks open when Hannibal pushed it, both hands occupied. One cradling the dog, the other in his coat pocket. The people in here might strangle him for taking the poor dog out into the cold. It'll be all right. Hannibal can cook a banquet. 


It's a slow day. There were a few appointments, and all of them were Bev's, hence, Will has to take all walk-ins. Which there hasn't been any since they opened, so it's fairly a slow day for Will. 

Both are sipping on mugs of coffee, which are really good. Plus points, they found them in Jack's drawer, abandoned with a leash and a dead rat. Well, it looked like a dead rat, but on closer inspection it was a toy rat that had been decapitated. But they'll save the rat for later to scare Brian and Jimmy when they come in tomorrow. 

Will leaning on the front desk, Bev leaning on the wall opposite the desk. She had a clear view of the door to see if any clients decided to come in. Or just use their hospitality and join their warmth. And she hoped it was the former when she saw a tall man approaching the direction of their clinic.  At least he's tall because he seems taller than all of the guys Bev dated. But he's not her type. She knows whose type this potential client is. 

"Will, whatever you do," she starts carefully like a cobra is coiling itself on Will's neck "Do not look back."

Her voice is tense, finicky. And he's starting to get nervous too, but ignores the light tremor of his hand when he takes a calm sip, a shaky chuckle after it. "Unless it's a man holding a crowbar, why can't I look?"

Her eyes were wide and her hold on her mug stiff. She probably stopped breathing altogether. "Just--"



The glass door clicks open and an accented voice "Hello" nearly made Will jump out his skin and his good coffee will be ruined. Instead, he placed his mug on the desk, making a dull thunk on the IKEA furniture. 

Bev stepped forward, and with an amicable smile, "Good day, sir. How may we be of service?"

Will glared at her from his slumped posture over his coffee mug. 

"A check up on my dog please."

"Dr. Graham shall see to him." Bev says, a harsh slap on the back introducing Will back up. 

Will jolt straight when the jot pain of Bev's 'friendly' pat collided on his back. And he was face to face with a man in a gray plaid winter coat and a daschund on his elbow. 'He took men's carry-on to the next level.'

Bev pushed him from the desk to attend to their customer. And went to leave her empty mug and drink up Will's half-full one. 

When Will thought they were out of an earshot from Bev, he turns his neck to the man, "I'm sorry. I sounded rude then. My friend and I were exchanging horror stories and had to rile me up by your presence."


Hannibal smiles, shifting Napoleon's weight evenly on his arms that he was against Hannibal's torso. He followed Dr. Graham to the back, entering a room with a steel table right in the middle. 

Something about this Dr. Graham is very aesthetically pleasing to the eye, at least for Hannibal's tastes. 

He places Napoleon on the table even before Dr. Graham can ask him to, and stands back as Dr. Graham put on latex surgical gloves. 

He watches the veterinarian with silent amusement as he walks around Napoleon, checking his ears, teeth, eyes, paws. And above all things, his self-acclaimed owner. 

"I don't think he's your dog." Dr. Graham says bluntly. 

Hannibal is surprised, "Why do you say so?"

Dr. Graham moves once again to double check on Napoleon. "He's well-fed, he hasn't got any tangles, his nails are pedicured, and..." he leans down and narrows his eyes at Napoleon's collar, taking it in his hand, "I'm sure you aren't called Bedelia Du Maurier with a dog called Napoleon Boneparte."

"'Bonnie'-parte." Hannibal corrects him. 

Will cracks a smile, "Sure it is." He stands up and pulls out a pair of glasses from his lab coat pocket. "Cute dog. Mint coloured pedicure. Napoleon." He breathes, digging his hands in his jeans pocket. "Rich, single woman. /Very/ blonde."

Hannibal's brows went up. "That's racist."

Dr. Graham turns back to checking the dogs ears the third time. "No, don't get me wrong, I love blondes." He glances up to Hannibal for a moment before mumbling "I shouldn't have said that."

Hannibal gives a light chuckle, "I, in turn, adore curly hair."

Dr. Graham nods, gesturing to Napoleon, "I see that."

"I have to ask, Doctor," Hannibal says, smile evident in his voice "I haven't seen veterinarians wearing lab coats."

Hannibal hears a snort to his side, and sees the woman from the front desk, entering and washing two mugs in the steel basin Hannibal is sure isn't for washing human belongings, but grooming dogs. 

He notices that Dr. Graham has a disgusted look on his face, watching his colleague. 

But Bev finishes quickly, and exits. 


'That is disgusting.' Will thinks as he watches Bev rinse their mugs in the grooming basin for dogs. 

She doesn't take half a minute before she leaves. 

He turns back to-- 'I don't even know his name.' But more importantly, 'What was his question?' Then remembers. "Bev and I just found them hanging around and tried them on. We were just really curious." He notices the man's sceptical look. "For realzies."

He nods, "I'm Hannibal."


Napoleon yelps, raking in the attention. 

"Your dog's in great shape." Will tells him, "He doesn't shed much." 

Hannibal agrees. 

And then they settle in an awkward silence before Napoleon decides to bark out once again to have Hannibal carry him. 'That's one fussy dog.' Will thought as Hannibal took him in his arms again. 

"So..." Will drawls. 'My brain's telling me something. It has something to do with Hannibal.' "My colleague probably drugged my coffee..." he hums a bit, "wanna go out for tea?" He sees Hannibal's expectant look, "Or-or coffee, if you'd prefer."

Hannibal smiles, "I was thinking of the same thing." 


Bev hums her favourite tune under her breath as she waits for Will and tall, foreign-looking man to walk out from the room. 

She shouldn't have washed their mugs in the grooming station. Now the water in her mug tastes like shit. "'Cause you're cheating, cheat on, yeah." She mutters in her breath, tapping her nails on the mug. "Cheating's just a thing you do--" 

She screams bloody murder when there were two nails hammered on her sides. She quickly revolves on her feet and went face to face with Will. 

A stupid grin on his face. He pecked her cheek and shouldered his messenger bag. "I'm gonna go ahead." He whispers, winking at her as tall, foreign man came out the hall. 

She gives Will thumbs up as he walked out the clinic with their customer. "G'luck!" She mouths before he turns and disappears down the stairs. She chuckles to herself, drinking the water from her mug. Then she spits it back in. 


Will changes course and falls behind Hannibal and Napoleon. And he nearly stumbles when they stop at the side of a parked Bentley. 

"Great car." Will says dryily, so dry he doesn't even believe Hannibal could've heard it. 

But he must have impeccable hearing and opened the door for Will, before placing Napoleon in his cage in the backseat. "Thank you."

"Thank /you/." Will says, as he entered the passenger's seat, Hannibal going around to the driver's seat. 

Hannibal only smiles as welcome and then starts the engine. 

"So what do you work as?" Will asks as the man drives out his space. 

Hannibal looks back and forth, up the front mirror and the side. Will is so amused he can even squeeze in a full sentence since he's clearly busy. 

"I work as a psychiatrist."

Will nods. 'At least it pays up the reason why its a Bentley.' Then adds, "So we're both doctors."

"Yes," Hannibal says when he finishes looking busy. "Our proffesions aren't so different, Will." He tells the veterinarian assuringly. "You check if the animal is rabid, I do about the same."

Will laughs out loud, Hannibal a satisfied smirk on his face. "I cannot believe you just called people 'rabid'."

Hannibal shrugs, "Indirectly, of course."

"Well," Will says, thinking "you still called people 'rabid'." He turns with a mischievous glint in his smile, "Unless you were hinting on your own patients."

"Maybe. Maybe not."

Will grins.