Slow Burn +poisonedbyinsidiousdarkness

'Are you judging my word choices, Dr. Lecter,' {she teases, knowing that he is perfect, no matter what anyone else says, or what he argues. If he thinks her a tad immature for using such a word than so be it, but she refuses to take it back; it's too fitting} 

{When he comments on their relationship she listens intently, leaning a tad closer, relishing the way he speaks so highly of her} ‘I’m glad I was as much of a joy for you as you were for me,’ {she smiles, finishing off the remainder of her beer before being graciously topped off once again. Slow down, she scolds herself, but she doesn’t take the warning, merely shrugs it off. Her tongue is getting loose and her actions will probably soon follow. She’s back to thinking about being his understudy, being younger and more impressionable. He mentored her, and she studied him, it was the perfect combination. Although, she’d always wanted more when it came to Hannibal, the parts that he wouldn’t allow, it would have never been professional. There were times when she’d considered crossing the boundaries, but she never wanted to ruin what they’d built up nor did she want to be forward or rude. Alana would never want to push her former teacher, but at times, especially when she was alone, she craved him like a drug. In his presence she’d begun to feel lightheaded, but maybe it had been that way all along. That’s when she was certain she’d always compare everyone to him, and those men would never measure up, they’d never be enough. This could easily explain why she’d been single this entire time; she’d simply been waiting on him, or the illusion of him} 

'Never,' {she smirks} 'that's your fault…you've taught me to be insatiable, to always want more out of life. Not to mention you spoil me with my own reserve of this wonderful beer. You've always been too good to me, Hannibal, and I appreciate that.' 

{Taking another hearty sip of her beer, the doctor watches him move about the room. Watches as he so carefully and yet with ease, remove the dish from the oven and glide back across the room. He flitted about as if he was a dancer, and she knew he was light on his feet; they’d danced a few times in the years they’d known one another. It was mostly dancing at fancy parties with fellow members of their profession and yet she’d always felt as if they’d been the only two people in the room. Shaking her head she snaps back to reality, feeling her pulse race as he comes closer to her, directly behind her in fact. Quickly, she drains the rest of the beer in her glass before setting the empty cup onto the counter in front of her. Her dainty hands work at the apron strings at her back until they fall open and she’s gliding the white material away from her slender frame. Carefully, she folds the fabric and places it next to her glass, eyes glancing down to where his hand rests alone and all she wants is to reach out and caress his skin} 

'I should start on the dishes,' {she offers, feeling a tad hazy after consuming so much alcohol in such a short period of time} 'On second thought,' {she murmurs, stepping away from the counter and feeling her high heels move sideways and she knows any moment she'll hit the floor. Before she reaches the ground however she's spun enough to be face to face with Hannibal, her hands coming out instinctively to catch the front of his shirt, tugging a little harder than intended, popping a few buttons as she steadies herself. Her cheeks are flushed and she feels embarrassed, those small buttons hitting the hard wood with a clatter (at least in her head it's louder than usual). Blue eyes glance up from the stark white apron around his waist, traveling upward further noticing a bit of his chest hair poking out from the shirt, his tanned skin mocking her and enticing her all at the same time. Those clear orbs reach his throat and then his jaw but she doesn't want to look in his eyes, she knows he's probably annoyed with her behavior} 

'I'm sorry,' {she apologizes, truly meaning it, but she can't seem to help press her frame closer to his own. She's angled herself in a way that she's not flat against his chest, her hip protruding into his stomach. She enjoys his warmth, but she'll never say it, she's busy taking in his manly smell, the smell she remembers in her brain for always} 'I think I broke my heel,' {she informs, glancing down at her left foot, seeing the heel of her shoe dangle, ready to break off completely} 'Maybe that last glass spoiled me too much,' {she cracks a small smile, cheeks still rosy as she laughs gently} 

"You've always been a highlight of my day, Alana. It's no wonder why I 'spoil' you. This is me merely reciprocating. It's not all the time I am able to honestly want others around. You're the exception. Remember that." 

( The doctor reassures of that this is indeed Hannibal on his own wanting her to be here with him. That she isn't confined into the group of other colleagues or friends and she will never be apart of the ordinary. Hannibal Lecter is a man that knows exactly when to separate work from fun and vise versa. Friends come at a rare scarce pace and work related business is a part of his life that is the most serious but with Dr. Bloom it could never remain that way. Especially in his head where all his thoughts roam free against Lecter's will at times. )

( Standing this close to her, hands begging to feel the softness of her hands under his, he barely registers her comment about starting the cleaning up process. But honestly if Hannibal was that invested in something other than this woman herself he would have noticed that there weren't any dishes to be cleaned from the beginning. In the moments to come everything occurs so swiftly that even to Dr. Lecter it's almost as if the influence of his wine has taken control over his mind and body. ) "Easy there, I have you.." ( Her hands are clasping at the vertical alignment of the buttons down his dress shirt. Fuzzy chest feeling quite a breeze now as they;re shattering to the hardwood floor. Strong hands steady her body as she faces him. Their bodies having not once square inch of room between them. No complaints if the psychiatrist is being honest with himself. Lifting her from the underside of her upper arms, he braces her body keeping her upright the best he can as they're bent over near the cabinets of his kitchen. )

    "Lana"

( Hannibal breathes her name, his face dipping down towards her. Eyes scanning down to her own, missing the strong contact they shared. The embarrassment seeps upon the porcelain plane of her cheeks, a deep rose settling but for Hannibal there's no need for her to feel this way. In front of him at least. Out of all people she should feel comfortable in any situation around her counterpart doctor. Then again he can feel why her nerves are on tiptoes as he feels the same from time to time he feels the overwhelming need to be near her, to look at her, to touch her. Since the time of meeting her it's always been there but execution has been holding him back, the inappropriate nature of it all ceases all brain activity of Alana in that way. There will come a time, not now but most definitely in the future he can't hold off these thoughts for much longer. )

        "Shh, there's no need to apologize. It wasn't me you broke."

( Attempting to issue a teasing air about the kitchen, he assists her onto her one foot before bending back down and removing her still intact heel while the other falls to the ground useless. )

            "You can blame that one on me. I was the one who poured it."

( Smirking, he stands tall now, closing in on her body purposely yes but he wants to make sure her feet are trustworthy. The sides of his first two fingers dare to stroke the crimson tint to her lively cheeks and why stop what's going to happening eventually? Gently coming up to her face, his fingers sear softly along the smooth skin and he stares at her with all the admiration that has been pent up for all these years. Clearing his throat before he's lost in the moment and does something against his patient nature his voice is lodged in his throat ready to speak. Against his better judgement he takes her hand into his and ushers her to the dining table. Pulling out the selected chair, he allows her to sit. )

                  "Food will calm down the brew."

( Situating the food on the plates, decorating the plates, always going over the top because it's in his nature to express. The swivel  of the spoon spreads line of mass chaos of the selected sauce for the meal before he's walking over to the the table, plates in hand. )

                        "Bon appetit, Lana."

Slow Burn +poisonedbyinsidiousdarkness

'I'm always up for your lessons,' {she nods} 'forever your student, Professor Lecter.'

{It’s been a very long time since she’s referred to him as professor, the title of course sends them both back 8 years. To think time has flown by so quickly, the brunette can hardly believe how far they’ve come as individuals. Unfortunately, they haven’t moved much the terms of their relationship. Yes, they’ve grown into friends and associates, however never did anything more blossom from their mutual enjoyment of each other’s company. Alana has all but lost hope in this prospect, then again tonight has been a tad surprising in certain aspects. He, is always surprising to say the least}

'I was young then,' {she chimes in, crossing an arm over her chest while she takes back to sipping her beer, eyes never straying far from him} 'Still though, I appreciate beer far more than I could ever appreciate wine,' {she laughs, taking a hearty swig from the very tall glass} 'I'm sorry if that wounds you.' {Her eyes glint with that usual teasing nature, the tension in the room somewhat cooling off as she leans in to view what the master chef is trying to show her}

'I know you love your profession….well as much as one can love what we do,' {she begins, finishing up the remaining beer in her glass. Slow down Alana, she chides herself} ‘But why not go into something culinary? Don’t get me wrong, I’m more than pleased we are standing here right now and so very grateful that you were my mentor….but don’t you think life would have been simpler? Less maddening or saddening…..less morbid?’

{She realizes she’s making simple conversation, but it isn’t a space filler in the slightest. She’s truly fascinated by him, and always has been. He offers her so much insight into the world and also seems to know far more than most textbooks. Hannibal is a wordly human being, a renaissance man of the highest order. The doctor dripped class and charisma, but also was able to make her feel as if she was just as educated as he was. She secretly thanked him for that, every chance her mind could muster the thought}

'You're rather impressive, Doctor,' {she compliments with a small smirk, teeth beginning to tease her lower lip, as she sets her now empty glass down onto the counter} 'The cooking, the beer, the art for of chopping vegetables,' {she chuckles} 'you've always had me reeling. How does one become the perfect version of the male species?'

{When she says this, Alana doesn’t blush, other than the pinked hue her skin has turned from the consumption of alcohol. She’s plenty serious and means it as a true question more so than a compliment} ‘When I was your student, sometimes I wondered how a man such as yourself could be real,’ {she admits} ‘I mean, I still wonder that now, but back then I just couldn’t fathom it. Hannibal you are so well rounded and adept at everything you do. I admire that about you, as well as find it highly attractive. I always have, if I’m being completely honest. You’re a good man, and I’d like to thank you for everything you’ve done for me since we’ve known each other. I don’t want to sound cliche or sappy, but it has to be said. I wouldn’t be me, without you and that’s a fact.’

( When Alana starts questioning his choice of career, Hannibal appreciates the curiosity, the question on its own. It's one of the many that still linger and make its appearance known from time to time. Why didn't he choose the culinary arts as a life long path? Why did this man take as she described their careers as morbid and saddening road in his life? It wasn't even to help people. Maybe it was the fact that he found people greatly and far more interesting than food. That was a maybe on his list. Perhaps it was Dr. Lecter had the tastebuds for the extreme unfortunate cases. )

    "We can not choose what will be simple. Life alone isn't simple not even in a less stressful and dark career as our own. Cooking possesses its sadness as well. The onions are the worse part of it all." 

( Hannibal slides a playful manner into this more serious part of the conversation. Trying not to enter the darkest depth of his own life choices, his own form of the question is on the tip of his tongue waiting to be asked into the kitchen air but her series of next comments stops him dead in the path of taking and chopping vegetables with skillful hands. )

     "The word perfect is a little bit over the top, don't you believe?"

( The doctor chuckles and glides over to the fridge, fetching more of her choice of drink before pouring into her glass that's settled in the company of his own wine glass. Her face hasn't changed in hue and her eyes never stray from his own when she speaks. Alana is telling him her set of the truth, what she feels is the truth but completely and utterly far from it. She is hidden from the real version of this man, the version Dr. Lecter himself has a difficult time knowing and being at times. Dr. Bloom's words are making their rounds in his ears and he's comprehending them slowly, one by one. It's a shame that she's under this falsehood of really knowing him. He's not only that man, he's more. More unique in the worst of ways. )

       "I have you know, Lana that your words touch me and I appreciate them. This fact you share though, it could never be a reality without yourself. I may have been a guide and set out a map for you to follow but you are an individual. A highly intellectual an astonishing woman. It was a pure honor to be a mentor, a companion and always a friend." 

( He means to say more, to bring up what he's always craved to be to and for her but he stops himself. Hannibal Lecter can spend the entirety of this evening showcasing and describing his awe and enjoyment he gains from the mere sight of her company but that was never scripted on tonight's agenda. Filling his glass once more, he sips, cherishing the deep twinge of sweet and dry combined his wine grants his tongue. Eyeing her from his glance he notices her filled glass is emptying quicker than usual. Her tongue feigning for the brewed wheat he's prepared especially for her.  

  "Your thirst cannot be quenched, can it?" 

( Teasing, he walks towards the oven, thick fabric gloves cover his hands are he pulls the meal pot from inside, pointed elbow skillfully shutting the door. Settling the ceramic on the counter, he allows cooling time as he leans against the lip of the counter top right behind her frame. His hand's warmth radiating closer to hers as it lays alone along the granite. )

Slow Burn +poisonedbyinsidiousdarkness

{Ocean eyes can’t help but lock on his as he speaks, telling her that the two halves can indeed come together, that there is a possibility they won’t be separated again. She doesn’t quite know what to say and yet she is truly terrified and pleased that he’s read her mind. That shy girl is taking over again, her sky spheres casting downward to dainty hands, she notices they are shaking slightly. Alana doesn’t want to continue this conversation, not know, it’s only making her anxious and worried. She’d come over tonight to help prepare a light supper and to socialize with one of her only friends. Now, here she was becoming emotional, becoming that pesky 25 year old graduate student all over again}

‘Once again I am transparent in front of you,’ {she murmurs, knowing he’ll hear her, but he won’t say a word. It’s something for them both to chew on for awhile, let it all sink in, she doesn’t want to ruin their business and social relationship over the way she feels inside. He’d constantly be worried for her, trying to decode her; she was unfixable, but she knew he’d keep trying. Or maybe all he wanted was to mend her, to be a part of her life in a deeper way than what they had been doing for the past 8 years. The brunette refused to dwell, however, she refused to spoil both of their perfectly good moods with her mental pictures and heart sick fantasies} 

‘I just tend to get in the way at times,’ {she shrugs, finishing up with her vegetables, filling the bowl as much as she possible can with the fresh ingredients} ‘I’m fully aware people do not bother you, nor do crowds, but it’s a bit warm in the kitchen and I don’t want to derail you front your find culinary art.’ {she smiles} ‘Besides, I’d like to enjoy this meal sometime tonight.’ 

‘Always beer, Hannibal,’ {she nods, pushing a few strands of dark hair behind her ear} ‘I am a beer girl through and through. I know you prefer wine and I appreciate that you are a refined gentleman but I’m always going to be a little less of a city dwelling, career woman that sniffs fine wine and bathes in Chanel.’

{The comment makes her think of his mistress, how at times when he’d meet her at his office to go over paperwork and case files, he’d smell of Chanel number 5 and lillet blanc. Of course she’d be drinking lillet with a twist of lemon, or even drinking a dry martini with four olives or whatever the hell she liked to do. Her blonde hair sometimes traceable on his dark suit jackets. Alana never knew her name, nor did she desire too, never ever had she even seen this mystery woman’s face. All she knew was that they had worked together at one point in time and remained in close contact}

{At times, Alana would fake ill in order to excuse herself from having to think about the rich, sophisticated older woman, daggering her claws into the man that she had fallen in love with. A simple crush that had morphed into more after only a year of meeting. When the brunette finally became a certified doctor and was able to occupy herself with work she forgot about her feelings less and less. It had come to the point even that she didn’t feel any sort of ache when they were together. However, lately it had been dull, building up and coming to a head….this was always more than just a young woman pining for the man that had taught her everything she knew. He’d also saved her life, saved her from herself, from hiding inside her human shell}

‘Forgive my comment, It’s not like I don’t think your friends are wonderful people,’ {she apologizes, hoping he doesn’t realize whom she was speaking of. Besides, she was more like the other psychologists and psychiatrists she hung around with and worked beside, than the old country rednecks that raised her and almost drained her of her sanity. She’d left that behind long ago, her family had died the night Jude passed away. Her little brother, dying in her arms each day, the cancer eating away at him until there was nothing left. He’d been gone 12 years now and not a day went by that she didn’t miss his warm embrace. No other family mattered to the doctor, Jude was her everything, all others had died in her mind while she fought to keep the only true death alive. She had failed, and her heart shattered into small fragments of dust} 

{Taking the tall glass of beer in her hand, she feels his gentle touch caress her fingers and she’s brought immediately back into the now. Her nose inhales the different ingredients that Hannibal had used to brew his own liquor and it warms her to the bones. This isn’t the first time she’s tried the drink and it won’t be her last, it’s perfection and as he’s said before, it’s all for her}

‘Thank you,’ {she smiles, raising her glass before taking another drink, this time it’s far more of a swig than a sip} ‘I think I’ve mutilated these veggies enough,’ {she laughs, picking up the bowl and gliding over to Hannibal, stopping at his side and placing the bowl down in front of his gaze} 

( Ears are even keel as they pick up on her whispering to herself but the doctor knows when to make comments and when to refrain. Now was one of those times. Emotions were hefty circling in the culinary atmosphere almost as if it was eight years ago. The venue a vast office with a barricade of a library up above. This could have all been avoided, the apprehension, the constant thinking of 'what-ifs'. Hannibal is certainly aware Alana is having these thoughts and more times than not so is the older doctor. If time was available to retreat, he would have made it known, made it clear that she was his choice of a woman he wished to spend his days and nights with always. Hannibal regrets not taking a chance, a righteous chance in his personal life. Instead he gambles his freedom as the sun sets almost every night partaking in dark soul hobbies. )

"My way is yours to get in,"

( Making his own comment, he arranges the cut evenly potatoes into a pot of water for boiling before grilling takes place. They'll cook faster that way. But as he's occupied in his station, his eyes glance over to her and sees her smile. It warms him just like the overtaking heat piling in his kitchen. )

    "You could never derail me, Lana but I understand. You've marked that end of my kitchen, it's now your territory. Who knew you were territorial."

( Words are playful as they come from his mouth but the grin that lives on his lips begins to fade. Her mouth is moving and true thoughts that harbored inside her brain probably for some time have made their presence known. Dr. Lecter knows exactly who he's referring to but Alana only can imagine an exterior and as she's made clear a personality. The blonde woman, the once goddess in his life came to his mind but soon faded to dark as Hannibal busied himself with numerous cooking tasks ahead. Do not feed into it, he urges himself. There is no point. To reassure her, to make the lingering questions of 'why' and 'how come' disappear it would take all evening and tonight was about them. About enjoying each other's company and nothing more. "I didn't hear a thing, Lana. You're my only friend that matters to me at the moment and will always if I have a say so." ( Giving her a curled lip smile, he walks over to the oven and eyes the bright crimson pot in which the prepared meal is roasting. Soon they will be seating in one another's company and talking like old friends should. Nothing could stand in the way. Not their pasts most of all. ) 

     "You're most likely the only one I would go through the trouble of bringing wheat into my kitchen,"

( The air is now letting go of the strong choke hold of a noose in the kitchen. A teasing tone is laced around his words and he's bringing his half full wine glass in the vicinity of her own glass which seems to be emptying as the seconds pass. Her own personal favorite poison is going to need a refill in the moments to come. Nostrils rest over the brim of the glassware, contents intoxicating as they swim through his nasal passageways before his lips sip at the red liquid. Tongue tingling as his taste receptors thank him for his choice of branded wine; the country of Italy swirling inside the dark cavern that is his mouth before swallowing, savoring. )

        "I would say finely chopped. The recipes calls for such so you were on the right track."

( Smiling as he looks over to her as he takes another tasting of his wine before settling the glass down on the counter. )

           "Would you be up for a brief lesson while the food is in the oven?"

( Eyeing her in question, he picks up the knife she was using prior to meeting him behind the counter top and aligns carrots, scallions and an assortment of vegetables for another added aspect for the dinner. )

                 "I remember quite clearly the first time you were in my kitchen. The first time you declined my favorite flavor of wine. A bold move, Lana."

( Smirking, he begins chopping away, the knife speedily creating identical pieces of each ingredient before an index finger wipes away the excess. )

                    "It's all in the wrist movement and the spacing. Each specific type of cut requires different technique." 

Slow Burn +poisonedbyinsidiousdarkness

{The heat, it radiates against her back, but she swears she can feel it pulsating throughout her entire frame. Her toes are chilled suddenly. the electric coolness traveling up her spine causing her to feel as if she’s almost vibrating. She’s nervous but she’s trying to hide it; nervous because  she doesn’t want to fail and nervous because she’d hate to disappointed him. But most of all she’s anxious of him being so close, it’s been quite a long time since he’d loomed over her shoulder. Things were different back then however, different in the way that he’d never allowed himself to touch her, not once}

{Alana thought about this as she felt his torso press into her back, his hand finding hers as they both wielded the knife. He’d been very good at keeping himself restrained all these years, very good at holding back. She knew he’d thought about her in a more intimate setting after he’d asked why they hadn’t had an affair, to which she reminded him he’d already been engaging in the explicit activity with someone other than herself. Had she been jealous? Of course, but it was nonsense and she’d allowed herself to let go of the idea that they could ever truly be together as a couple. However, she’d fantasized many times while she’d studied under him, fantasized about what that torrid affair would be like. Beautiful wasn’t a word often used for things that become tainted with time, but it was the first word that came to mind. Everything about his aura was beautiful, and the way he made her feel, it was at times too much to handle}

'I'm going to mess this up,' {she whispers, her eyes flitting to the side as she realizes his face is practically in the crook of her neck. She swallows hard, feeling his breath fan out warmly against her pale flesh. She needs more…she doesn't know exactly of what but she needs more of it like she needs oxygen. He is the more, he is the thoughts that keep her up at night. He was just a man but at one time he'd been her world, her savior, and now her friend. Closing her eyes for half a second she eases the tingling sensation arising deep inside herself. Gripping the knife handle tighter she allows Hannibal to guide her, counting down from three, both of their voices weaving into one}

{Her chest heaves, it’s nerves and excitement all rolled into one. She holds her breath for half a second watching the potato as it rises high into the air before being pulled down by gravity. For a moment she wants to let go, say she can’t do this….not just the trick but she can’t do whatever this is that they are doing. It’s dangerous and her heart is already in pain, but he’s so comforting and charming she can never say no. Alana trusts Hannibal, his reassuring touch allowing her to believe that perhaps, just maybe, she’ll be fine in the company of a man this time around}

'That was luck,' {she shakes her head, blue eyes glancing down to the two halves that once were a whole. Setting the knife down onto the cutting board, her dainty hands slid forward to assess the potato. She pushes both halves back together again, but of course this isn't a puzzle and they won't fuse back just because she's concentrating hard enough} 'Can two halves really make a whole?' {she asks out loud but not meaning to} 'Is it possible even if the other piece is jagged in certain places…..or will it always just be two halves, separated by a sharp knife? Can anything last or even be real…..God, I need to stop rambling.' {She's chiding herself, standing frozen as she feels Hannibal fussing with her long, dark strands of unruly hair}

{Soon she’s dropping the potato completely, and stepping out from behind the counter, trying to give them both some distance} ‘I’ll allow you to have your space back Doctor,’ {she teases with a smile, cheeks still bright pink in hue} ‘I think we might need a drink,’ {she suggests with a small nod making her way over to her forgotten vegetables and scooping them into a bowl} 

 "I would say skill. Luck doesn't always exist."

( Hannibal is reassuring with a whisper that her first come success was more than slim chance of luck. He speaks true to his words but luck existed when the twenty something year old version of herself entered his office's building. From then on the luck transformed their relationship. From his stance behind her he's curiously eyeing her analysis of their shared knife work. The way her face contorts depicts that he's concentrating hard, trying with all her mind's might to figure out the situation. Perhaps even deeper than the sliced in half red bliss potato tiptoeing atop the cutting board from the force of sharp edge's swipe through the center. Alana goes to speak and what's she's saying is deep, deeper than what occurred. There's a behind meaning to each word falling from her tongue and Dr. Lecter can pinpoint to what she's referring to. It wasn't just an observation, it was an inner thought that was lost under the surface of her brain until now. )

   "Connection of two separate pieces need symmetry, common ground. With that anything is possible. No matter the rough edges. Pieces come together because they are meant to. Interference by the sharpest knife cannot keep faith from doing its job."

( Religion wasn't a part of Lecter's life that he resorted to or even cared for. It created a mess on its own but right now Hannibal stands by his mention of faith. Without its presence she would not be standing in the vast kitchen spending the evening with him. )

        "Everything is real at one point or another, you just have to believe and want it to be. Lana, you don't have to stop anything. Whatever you wish to say, I wish to hear,"

( Swirling tresses of hair around digits, he caresses her hair in his touch until she's retreating back to her prior position at the table. Overwhelmed he suspected she was just by the way her body reacted in movement. )

             "You assumed I wanted my space back. I am able to work in crowded areas no problem. Though your vegetables seemed to miss you,"

( He teases back as he turns his face smirking on his way to the double doors of the refrigerator. )

               "I think you're on to something. Hope your taste buds still prefer beer." 

( Opening the doors, he fetches glass vase shaped container holding his version of a homemade brew. Pouring, he's in front of her handing her a tall glass, smiling at her. Fingers brushing along her soft skin in the process, static sizzling due to contact. ) 

Slow Burn +poisonedbyinsidiousdarkness

'I beg to differ,' {she laughs before smirking up at him through long, dark eyelashes} 'You might be able to sew my finger back on or stitch up my hand but that does not mean you can protect me from myself…..and my terrible culinary failures. {Of course the tone is teases and she enjoys this with him, they've never been too serious, only when they've had to be. The last time she can remember being mad at him was when he'd taken Abigail from the hospital without her consent. Even then, she'd quickly forgiven the charming man, knowing it was all with good intentions}

{Shaking her head she tries not to think of Abby, it’s far too painful, just as it’s hard to think of their mutual friend Will Graham rotting away in an asylum with creeper Dr. Chilton. Alana will not dwell on this tonight, she forbids herself to think of such things when she’s actually having a good time, when she’s actually smiling instead of feeling melancholy}

'Shy,' {she rolls her eyes teasingly, trying to play cool even though she knows he's on to her games, he's too damn perceptive sometimes} 'I'll admit you were quite intimidating in the beginning, but once I'd gotten to know you I could feel myself at ease,' {she admits} 'And can't a girl be a little shy sometimes? God, it's as if you can see right through me at times, makes me feel a little transparent to be honest.'

'You're anything but a spinster, Hannibal,' {she corrects} 'that's reserved for women like me who would rather throw themselves into work than have a family or even a boyfriend. I guess I just don't trust people enough….and I definitely don't trust anyone enough to let them eat my cooking. I'll leave that one to you.'

{Now as she smiles she gives him a toothy grin, her eyes once again dropping to the cutting bored as she busies herself with the celery stalks at her disposal. She wants to say that he can’t be a spinster, they’re not charming or clever like he is, not to mention she’s sure he has plenty female company. She doesn’t know why the thought sinks low in her belly but it does, and she can’t help but remember when she was a student, knowing that he was secretly sneaking around with another doctor, one of his colleagues. There were times when she wanted to be his, she was too timid to admit she had a crush on her mentor, thought he might find it inappropriate. Besides, he was blissful in his affair. However, she was still reeling from the night he’d asked her why they’d never seen each other intimately. It was as if he’d read her mind, but that was more than a few months ago, and she didn’t dwell on it. Much}

'You think you don't know me well enough already?' {she smirks} 'What can you tell about me by the way I eat? Or better yet by the way I miserably prepare your vegetables?' {That nickname rolls off of his tongue and she can't help but blush. It's been awhile since she's heard it, and yet she's still appreciative of his light atmosphere when he's in her company}

{She places a hand on her hip as he speaks, watching him as he states he has something for her to see. He’s such a performer and she wonders why he’d never taken up being a certified chef, he would be brilliant and yet she’s more than pleased he’s in his current profession, working beside her. Sky eyes mystified as she watches him put on his clever show, the potato being flung into the air and landing expertly on his blade. Alana claps childishly, but she means it as a compliment, and she wants him to know that she truly finds this entertaining, being around him is enough to keep her interested for a lifetime}

'Bravo,' {she giggles, still smiling from ear to ear, only as he speaks she feels her eyes gleam with confidence and adoration} 'Thank you for the compliment, and the trick,' {she gestures to the potato} 'Even though I thought little tricks were kept as special secrets, or am I special enough to know what's behind the curtain?' {It's not really meant to be a question but more of a teasing gesture. However, once the words leave her mouth she realizes she craves to know how he feels in this moment, wonders if he does indeed find her special enough to share his time}

'This is going to go terribly wrong,' {she laughs, shaking her head, long locks swaying back and forth as she glides over to where he stands behind the counter. She assumes he will stand beside her, but instead he motions for her to stand in front of him, her apron covered stomach pressing against the sleek counter top. The heat of him behind her makes her swallow hard suddenly; why is everything becoming so tangible tonight? Why does she feel more alive now than before? It's as if she's finally realizing she shouldn't be afraid of her feelings, and yet she's worried to embrace them, nervous of his rejection}

( His now college once student is asking him questions as a psychiatrist should, she isn't shying away but there's a teasing wind circulating that Hannibal is more than aware of. He will join the joking game but laced with the lightness of it all will be the truth as he sees it. ) 

"One always finds out new and uplifting material about others sometimes without trying to or well, wanting to. It just so happens I wish to know more about you."

( Admitting, he looks at her, a look of confession staring back at her face with a quirking of a left eyebrow as he gauges her reaction to his confirmed truth. )

   "The way you eat...apprehension pours through the surface as the food enters your mouth. Curiosity then takes over. It's almost as if you're experiencing life all over again from a simple bite."

( He realizes then she's been added to the long ever expanding list of completely analyzes he's made. Force of habit. Yet with her, he observes, craving to witness her in every aspect of being able to do so. The doctor's descriptive answer to her playful question lingers in the air until he smirks back towards her, shaking his head side to side in reaction to her claim. )

    "Don't be absurd. The vegetables are thankful...somewhat."

( A laugh parts through lips as he eyes the pile of different shapes and sizes of chopped colors upon the cutting board. )

      "Please do remind me to show you a thing or two, refresh your memory."

( Refresh his own memory with flooding images of her student years and all the time they spent together not just learning about the human behavior but about life itself. All the exciting qualities she has yet to experience. Deep inside of his core he misses that, the innocence of it all. Effortlessly juggling the potato one hand with the sharp chef's knife in the other, he can hear her appreciation in the back of his mind on loop. Her enjoyment was always top of his list. As her mentor as well friend in the present, all he wished was for her happiness, courtesy of him most. )

          "If you have to question that, Alana after all this time then I certainly for one am a horrible entertainer and friend."

( Hannibal remarks actually dwelling on her questioning sentence. Is she special enough to know the real him? Or at least three portions of who he is? Yes, she is and yes, she will be able to get to know him in all regards one way or another. He wants her to. ) 

           "Wrong always becomes right at some point, keep that in the back of your mind. Now get over here."

( His knife hand waves and she's pressed into the edge of the work station and closely he follows. His stomach brushing against her back. Warmth radiates from both of their bodies combining as one and he can sense her nervousness but there's a rushing course of something running through her; he can feel it as now his hands are reaching up to her own. Sparks are flying as he guides the necessary tools into her touch wanting to feel her without any interference. The knife's handle is shared between their fingers. His grasp shielding her dainty top of her hand, guiding with his face sharing the space between her shoulder and neck. )

               "On the count of three give me your best assist. One...two...three.."

( Together the peeled shape is in the air and hitting the blade breaking apart in half. Her chest is rising and falling from the rush of adrenaline, his body guarding her own. )

                     "You might be a better performer than I am."

( Breathing is slightly heavier and his fingers are coasting over one side of her neck, fixing her dark strands of hair from her shoulder. )

TELL ME ONE THING YOU LIKE ABOUT HOW I PLAY MY CHARACTER

Slow Burn +poisonedbyinsidiousdarkness

{Each and every time Alana had been invited into Hannibal Lecter’s large home, she’d felt anything but a chill or draft. Most people would describe a place such as this as a museum, however the doctor couldn’t disagree more. There was warmth and light in the expansive area, a pleasant feeling always consuming her whenever she’d make her way inside. He’d invited her over once when she was still a student, it was nothing but professional and yet she wondered how many other students he’d spent this much time with or if he’d bothered ever getting to know them. The brunette often liked to believe that she was the only one, but that thought made her blush a little too hard and her stomach flutter with anxiousness}

{Now they stood in his pristine kitchen, as friends and colleagues, equals, at least he’d always treated her as such, except now she felt completely validated with her PHD. His fierce hazel stare concentrating hard on his cooking craft, large hands wielding the sharp knife with expert skill. Alana watched him, always glancing from the vegetables he’d allowed her to cut, to his chiseled facial features. Every so often she’d become self conscious, feeling odd about paying too close attention to a normal task, but she couldn’t help it, he mesmerized her}

{When he catches her looking, she smiles shyly, feeling foolish but then she notices him mimicking her expression and it makes her skin burn hot} ‘I don’t really feel as if I’ve been practicing,’ {she admits} ‘I’m afraid if I moved the knife the way do I’d cut my hand in half.’ {A tiny chuckle escapes her, her light eyes looking down to what she’s doing, now more worried that she could indeed cut herself on the sharp instrument; God how she’d be embarrassed}

'I remember the first time you cooked for me,' {she comments} 'I've never eaten something so delicious before in my entire life.' 

'And you know I don't really cook much for myself….it's the life of a single, spinster, I suppose.' {Of course she's kidding, or at least she likes to believe it doesn't bother her that she goes home alone every night. Yes, she's adopted Will's dogs for the time being and yes she has her own, but it isn't the same and she now realizes this. In the presence of Hannibal Lecter she becomes more and more aware of what she's been missing all this time}

"Once upon a time I was a specialized surgeon, no one will be losing any limbs." 

( Hannibal's words cause him to chuckle quietly as the meaning of his sentence are ironic considering his nightly pastimes. Alana's presence always brought out the let's say, slight bit of normalcy the doctor had stowed away. Since she was his student years back, there was something about her that was intriguing. Her quiet yet quirky nature and even as a studying student, she had an air of professionalism that was difficult to come by with young adults nowadays. The way she smiles, Hannibal couldn't fend off his lips' need to reciprocate. The faux attitude and genuine care for people was a talent that the man had perfected some time ago but again now Dr. Bloom but always his sweet Alana escorted this side of him to the present. )

     "I remember that evening quite well myself. The shyness hasn't yet escaped you I see,"

( Hannibal picks up on her body language as she merely stands there. This woman shouldn't not feel the slightest embarrassed although the way her face brightens in color staining her cheeks states otherwise. )

        "Consider myself a 'single spinster' as well, Alana though I cannot possible see myself not cooking."

( Explaining he looks up from his busy hands and rounds the turnip in his palm as he continues to speak. )

           "Food is art in my book, perhaps cooking is a way to express who I am. We could definitely find who you are via cuisine, Lana."

( A nickname of sorts he used to refer to her as has made its appearance just as it usually did while she was under his professional supervision. The name straying from his word of mouth until tonight. )

         "I have just the trick I feel you suites you." 

( Twirling the cutlery upside down, slicing portion upright before both their light colored orbs, he tosses the next potato for cutting into the air right in front of his three pieced wardrobe. A second or two passing, falling down in a perfectly aligned form is the ingredient pierced straight onto the sharp edge blade of the knife. A wicked grin and glint living on his features in her direction. )

              "Lively and refreshing with a hint of expert form and grace."

( Describing in smaller terms who she represents her self to be truly, something Hannibal sensed from the moment she walked into his office doorway. )

                 "Come give it a try," ( Veined larger hand ushering her towards him behind the counter as he makes slight space between his tall frame and the edged lip of the marble. )

Vogliatemi bene +perfectlyconstructedpersonsuit

{As he speaks of their son, truly gives his input on the matter at long last, Bedelia cannot control the magnitude of her tears. His words have amplified the waterfalls streaming from her ocean spheres, her heart pounding against her chest with each staggering intake and exhale of breath. All the guilt of what she’s done to this man by pushing him away is at the forefront of her brain, but she realizes he is not angry, nor has he ever been. Before her is her lover, the man full of understanding when it comes to the blonde. He has nothing but love and desire, need even as he’s stated quite a few times this evening, as he’s shown her for the last few hours. This honesty is genuine and it is golden, everything they needed and everything she thought would never come}

{That sinking feeling she used to receive deep in her gut is now subsiding, her anxiety beginning to dissipate as she glances up into loving hazel spheres. His face looks that of a man wounded and hurt, hurt beyond all possible repair, but Bedelia will try to mend him. Together they will fix this ache they both feel, they will mend their battered hearts and bruised souls. They’ll pass this, together, together she realizes they can do anything. It may seem cheesy or contrite, but the doctor doesn’t care, she’s madly in love with the man that stands before her, dangerous flaws and all}

{She gasps as his manly hand reaches her stomach, her entire body freezing in place. She’s never allowed him to touch her there ever since their loss, she’s never permitted him to look up close at the traitorous scar. The one below her belly sears hotter than the one on her neck, it scolds her skin red even if it is not the one visible. The tiny line shows fatality, explains that their son could not be saved. However, the deep scar on her neck has faded some in the past year and it showcases hope even if at times she feels pain. Hannibal saved her life that night, the once slash mark could have so much worse if it hadn’t have been for him. When Isaac had died in her womb, minutes after the attack, she wished her love wouldn’t have saved her. For a moment she wanted to wallow in misery and pass with their beloved baby. The blood had poured from her neck much like it had done when he’d rescued Abigail, the doctor knew that’s why he’d intervened then, saved her on that floor because she’d reminded him of Bedelia. He hadn’t said those words exactly, he didn’t need to, when he’d explained the incident she knew without having to prod the matter further. He’d saved her for the blonde, giving her a child that he indeed had saved. It wasn’t a replacement for Isaac, but it was an apology for his failure}

{Her hand reaches downward and glides against his own. Instead of pulling his large palm away she forces it harder onto her blouse-clad stomach, needing him to feel everything and knowing that he indeed does. This is her apology, her chance to make it all fade away, fade like terrible scars that infected both of their bodies. Sky eyes glance at Hannibal’s neck, she can see what no one else ever has, the marks that had been left from his own terrible past. They’ve both been through so much and yet here they were, in each other’s embrace. It was a necessary meeting of twin souls, identical hearts that now beat as one and always will from this day forward. Bedelia hadn’t needed a ring to validate her attachment to the man in front of her, nor did she need the validation of the general public. All she needed was him, and it made her heart soar knowing that all he needed was her}

'Always and forever,' {she breathes, feeling his hands grasp her hips, her eyes sharp and assuming. She's begging with her body now, needing to be touched, needing to be loved in a more intimate way. Bedelia needs to feel him now more than ever, craves him in every way imaginable. Her hands grip his forearms for a moment, her heaving breasts pressing hard into his broad chest. Tongue swipes outward to lick at her lips, wetting the dryness knowing they're going to be bruised by this time tomorrow}

'Give me all your love, Hannibal' {she whispers before gasping as he lifts her off of her stocking clad feet, her behind sitting on the cool marble of the counter. Her dainty hands glide up to his shoulders before nails are raking up the skin of his neck and into his full head of hair} 'I want everything you have to offer me,' {she continues} 'I'll take all your pain, my love, all your suffering. Every struggle you have, I will help shoulder it, always and forever. I am yours, all of me is yours. I curse the day I left you, I curse myself for not having let you comfort me, but more so I curse the man that forced our tiny life from my womb. Tonight we'll bury our son, as I want you to bury all of heartache in my skin, in my veins. I want all of you running through me….you're in my bloodstream, Hannibal, exactly where you've always been meant to be.' {Her fingers knot in his hair, tugging from the roots as he devours her mouth. The kiss goes from zero to sixty in seconds flat, and she's forcing his lips harder onto her own. She moans deeply into the sensual lip-lock as his familiar hands caress the creamy skin of her exposed thighs. The tight, black pencil skirt is beginning to bunch up at her waist, her panties visible below the lace garter belt that keeps her stockings up. The food behind them smolders but they both don't seem to care, let it smoke, she thinks, let it burn} 

( Both doctors somewhere along the way have experienced times of wreckage. From Hannibal's childhood to a year ago, lives have been put in danger and have help aid the man and woman they've become. Together they are able to share each other's similarities. Never has Hannibal been able to find someone he's felt that could handle his truest nature but this blonde goddess under his hands' roaming touch was and will be the only one. More than the obvious personality traits they indeed share is apparent. Scars and forever markings that only Bedelia knows of him and vice versa shape this relationship in a beautifully tragic way. Their bodies are branded with their past and the horrible mistreatment; only each other can help clear the tarnish that has been bestowed upon them that is always present. )

    "Always and forever is a hell of a promise, 'Delia."

( A glinting smirk is residing daring to make its presence available upon thinned lips as his palms inspect down her toned thighs, basking in her baby soft feel. Over a year it has been since the connection between them has soared, has came to this intimate point but right now all Hannibal can fathom is loving her. With words, with his mind but right now his body is speaking to him, demanding him to love her and completely show her what she means to him after this course of over twelve months. Around the forever engraved markings, the indentations of his seven year old self her nails run across, outlining each dent in his tanned skin. His body is hyper sensitive and Bedelia can most likely feel his apprehension in his body but he allows her to feel, to truly feel the burden of his childhood. To know exactly without questions and answers what it is like to live with the torment he has to cope with daily. )

    "I have only myself to offer you and every broken piece of myself. All the pent up tears, years of balled fists and aches for an end, it's all yours tonight just as I am yours. Tonight we will feel every part of each other."

( The coolness of her breath glossing near his face sends chills up his sturdy spine, digging deep into his skin as she speaks. They will be one again, cementing themselves into each other for always. )

   "Bedelia, let me feel what it is to be you."

( One last sentence floats into the kitchen's air as tastes are infused and a sinful concoction is created. Tongues battle but tonight isn't about dominance or ownership; tonight they are equals just as they've always been. They have granted permission to the opposite's body in all forms and he plans on permanent residence. There is no rush on this evening or ever in their lives again although his hands are eager to explore this familiar estate of flesh. As mouths collide and bodies press into one with a need for heated friction moans fuel the desire even more; her body moves atop the slick marble, skirt riding up the upper portion of her thighs and he aides the skating of material with searching fingers. Sizzling around their frames is the remains of the would be dinner and Hannibal just can't seem to care about the turnout. )

        "My appetite has changed anyhow."

( The doctor whispers against her smeared mouth just as Bedelia's face comes into clear view with faces aligned perfectly symmetrical. Twisting the turnknob, the pointed edge is laying under the engraved word off, the blazing fire's heat settling down just as his hands do. Plucking at the revealed black lace, he teases the fabric with eyes locked on her stare. No words needing to roam the surrounding walls of his kitchen instead actions come out to play. Pads of forefingers run down the stretched garter attached to the transparent stockings that cover her traveling legs until meeting the clasps. The sight before his hazel hues excites him just as a fresh created kill would. There is something so mesmerizing about her that now he is truly realizing. His mouth waters, tongue tingling for a taste of his fine masterpiece of  woman settled on his counter. Myriad of patience of always a strong suit for the psychiatrist yet somehow right now all self control for time has escaped. Undoing the clasps, the restrains have come undone, straps pulled out from the metal squares by skillful fingers. The eagerness protrudes through each burning touch along her thighs but a sick part of him wants to draw this out. Take his time and recapture the essence of her body as if for the first time. )

      "You never once have failed to amaze me, darling 'Delia."

( Leaning inward, full grasp of palms separate her thighs spreading them. Ushering a small placed kiss adjacent to the apex of her thigh, his tongue darts from the confines of his mouth and draws a lazily placed path upwards. Her womanly aroma burns deliciously on his wet muscle, her personal taste almost dancing in a frenzy upon taste buds. No parting of vision has ceased and the closer his sense of smell reached, the more determined he became. Slowly his face dove between her legs. Skull notched in the center of her cunt, nose pressing between laced clad outer lips, inhaling the sweetness. Hannibal's keen sense of smell was a gift of his and the smell mimicked the would be taste, something he hasn't had the privilege of indulging in what seemed to be ages. )

           "How I've missed you."

( He whispers and his hushed tone vibrates along her slit, air teasing the bald flesh before his tongue tickles the semi hidden skin. Peeling back one side of her panties with a deft slender digit, his glossy eyes feast on created perfection. 

             "So beautiful,"

( Playing the tip of his tongue's tempo, tapping along the entrance he swirls the muscle around before fully lapping at the dripping essence of arousal. )

1x07: That One Episode Where Hannibal Looked Particularly Handsome and Dapper.