In response to a prompt!

PROMPT: Hannibal tries to be a sugar daddy to Will, who is super resistant and uncomfortable (I think the books mention a "half-buried grudge" against the rich because of his modest upbringing).

Bonus for lots of people *cough*Chilton*cough* assuming that's the only reason they're together, much to Will's annoyance.

As long as he could remember, Will Grham had a problem with money. Growing up, dirt poor in Louisiana he would often recall his father who would slave away for twelve hours a day on tourist boat motors, than come in the house, perch Will on his knee and say; 'Ain't nothing good come of rich folk, boy. They come into this world with a silver spoon, but go like the rest of us, shriveled and stinkin' of shit.'

Will grew up on that mantra, always weary of wealthy students in school and later in college. Preferring the company of small towners like himself, to the fast-paced city slickers. Now twenty-five, and Will hadn't thought about class-distinction since he graduated. Until he came along that is; the aristocratic psychiatrist and culinary genius, Hannibal Lecter.

Somehow the charismatic man, had managed to infiltrate himself into Will's infrastructural shell of a life and become his 'rock', than his lover. And now, well now Will wasn't sure what he was; whatever step came when being lovers wasn't enough anymore. Although Will couldn't be more grateful for Hannibal, the older man's social and financial stand in society overwhelmed him on more than on occasion. People would study him like an exotic exhibit at the zoo when Hannibal took him to fund raiser events and the opera. More often than not the high society geezers would deftly try to hide their curiosity behind crystal flasks of pricy champagne. Still the heat of the stares burning him, the feeling of being watched was unnerving to him in ways beyond Hannibal's understanding.

It wasn't until he casually revealed his problem over lunch to a typically nosy Beverly, that the idea took root.

"Of course people are going to stare. High society is all about gossip, and what's more fun to dissect than the number one forensic psychiatrist's sexy new boy toy!" she grinned to let him now she was joking, but the sinking feeling at the bottom of Will's stomach only grew worse. A boy toy, a gigolo, a gold digger…a whore.

"Will breath," Katz lay one hand on his arm. Will fidgeted in his seat and allowed his locked lungs to start taking in air. "I was joking. Even if those society hags thinks that, who cares? I don't."

"What about people at the bureau?" Will asked. Katz fidgeting with her fork was answer enough.

"They don't mean to," she finally said, "they just don't see the appeal. I didn't either to start with. He's quite a bit older than you Will." She said consolingly, "but now I see how much you genuinely suit each other. The others," she paused and took a stalling sip from her coke, "they'll see it soon, I'm sure. Jack will come around in a few months, and you know how the rest of them follow him in a brainless heard."

Will forced a chuckle for her benefit, but inside he felt cold. When did he become everything he hated without even knowing it? Will shuddered at the thought. Inside a little voice was playing hacky sac with his brain while merrily singing, 'You know when, when you let him into your life. When he sent people to renovate your house. When he ordered vet checks at the best veterinary clinic on the east side for your mutts. When he had your car switched for that Lexus, while you were in Washington two months ago. When he insisted on paying at every restaurant, for every show. Well now he owns you, he owns, he owns you…'

"I have to go!" Will said, standing abruptly from his seat. He was out the door before Beverly could so much as call out a good bye.

"Are you enjoying your boeuf bourgignon, Dr. Chilton?"

The director of Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane looked up from his heavenly scented meal to shoot the doctor an appeasing smile.

"Exquisite as always Dr. Lecter. I have yet to dine with you and be disappointed." Chilton's every word dripped with blatant flattery and made the man sitting across from him feel physically ill. But Will Graham was made of sterner stuff then that, and he suppressed his urge to vomit with nary an eyebrow twitch. Still something must have given away his disgust, for a moment later, dark, narrow eyes leveled him with an accusing stare.

"It must be nice to have all your meals cooked for you Mr. Graham," said Chilton, taking a nonchalant bite off his fork.

"It is," agreed the psychoanalyst, hopping that giving short answers will kill the conversation.

"I imagine living here must be very nice too," continued the director, shooting a malefic glance at the other, while slowly extracting the clean fork from his mouth.

"I enjoy staying here," replied Will and attempted to make eye contact with Hannibal for assistance, but the chef was studiously observing the content of his plate. Though if Will were to look closer he would have seen the birth of a smile, playing around that perpetual pout. "But I don't live here. I spend most of my time in Wolf Trap."

"Ah yes, the little farmhouse," Chilton made a great show of recalling the place, than smirked and lifted his wine glass. Taking a sip he leaned back into his chair to observe Will, while circulating the burgundy in leisurely swirls. "I don't see why you insist on returning there when you have all this comfort provided to you. Tell me Mr. Graham, how does it feel to be a kept man?"

Will choked on his wine and began coughing uncontrollably, his trachea feeling dry and strangled all of a sudden. Hannibal quickly yet still with an air of grace, lifted himself from his seat and rushed to assist him. Chilton looked on, unphased. Like he wasn't responsible for anything beyond the content of his wine glass.

"I…I'm not a kept man," rasped Will when his airway cleared. Hannibal, still silent, shot a warning look at the oblivious director before reclaiming his seat. Will glared at Chilton through watery-eyes, who only shrugged under all the attention and continued.

"I mean no disrespect, but you see it puzzles me greatly that a man, such as yourself, who has an array of mental illnesses; would choose to continue to work for the FBI, though it is clearly detrimental to his state of mind, when he has a wealthy, generous partner to fall back on for financial support." At this point Chilton should have scented danger and made a hasty retreat. Both Hannibal and Will were watching him with predatory detestation. Still the man, for all his many achievements in the psychiatric field, was terribly foolish. Though he had made it this far in life, whatever god looked out for the welfare of fools was clearly not on his side tonight. "You have nothing to be embarrassed about of course. It's not as if it is unheard of in this day and age - young, attractive men are finding themselves financially secure partners to live a life of luxury and indolence."

Hannibal lowered his knife and fork and fixed an iron glare on his guest. Chilton, completely focused on studying his squeamish victim, didn't seem to notice. Will had both hands on the table top, in tightly clenched fist. His eyes characteristically avoiding contact, were dancing around from point-to-point in agitation. He looked nervous and frustrated. His anti-social persona incapacitating his rage.

"You shouldn't feel bad Mr. Graham, after all I'm sure that you are in turn a provider of certain needs for Dr Lecter, thus making the entire arrangement nothing less than a fair exchange of goods; am I right?"

In a rare display of loss of self-control, Hannibal all but threw back his chair in his haste to rise.

"I believe you have over stayed your welcome, Dr Chilton. I would be happy to show you to the door, unless you feel confident enough to see yourself out."Hannibal's voice was as undescript as ever, clinical and professional, but still tinged with a touch of frigid contempt that only Will could detect. It made him flinch on instinct.

Chilton stared up at Hannibal; in his rage the man seemed to fill the entire room with his presence. He was god and Chilton the unfortunate mortal who was careless enough to incur his wrath.

I…but I…I…" stuttered the director, his eyes wide in belated realization that he went to far.

"I will say this much before you go," spoke Hannibal calmly, "my association with Will, is beyond your plebian stereotype of inter-class relationships. We share a profound bond that depends very little on my financial standing beyond the quality of our joined lifestyle." Hannibal leaned forward and took a firm hold of the table, "Your opinion on the status of our relationship Dr. Chilton is not appreciated, and I would take this as a warning for future encounters." Though of course there would be no joined future encounters; the man will be dead and solidifying in his freezer within the week.

Chilton pushed back his chair in a fearful haste to remove himself from the other man's presence. Purposefully avoiding looking in Will's direction, he high-tailed it from the room, and a moment later the slam of the front door could be heard. Hannibal approached the back of Will's chair and began gently kneading the tense muscles in his shoulders. Leaning down to nip playfully at one coquettish ear, the Lithuanian whispered against the skin.

"I made dark chocolate mousse for dessert, would you care to help me prepare it?"

Will shuddered against the warm wetness encasing his ear and squirmed away from the blonde. Hannibal tried to maintain nonchalance though the rise of his eyebrows gave away his surprise.

"Have I upset you somehow?" Hannibal asked at length, when the silence between them reached a point of discomfort. Will continued to sit, hunched in on himself, staring mutely at the opposite wall. Finally he turned his head towards Hannibal, eyes darting around for a long moment, before settling hesitantly on his partners'.

"What Chilton said," Will began then paused and seemed to consider his words before continuing, "is that how you see us?"

Hannibal smiled at his lover's bashfulness. He slid the chair back a couple of feet and walked around to easily lift the smaller man from his seat. Pulling the still huddled form against his vest, Hannibal wrapped one arm around Will's chest, using the other to gently cradle the brown head of hair and sieve though the curls.

"No my love, to me you are priceless. I would never cheapen the verity of your affection towards me by attempting to bribe you with money. I never doubted, even for a moment, that were I to become a beggar, you would have taken me in like one of your many strays, and lavished me with the same amount of love and affection as I am privileged to be receiving now."

Will smiled and though he couldn't see it, the gentle tightening of the doctor's arms, let Will know that he was certainly aware.

"You know," he finally said, "chocolate mousse, sounds perfect right about now."