"Hannibal," Jack chortles heartily, helping himself to another pouring of sauce, "your cooking never disappoints."

You nod in agreement. Sure, dr. Lecter — the psychiatrist you now work with — may be unnerving and reserved. But after getting to know your new partner for a few weeks, you find that he's not all he appears to be.

Hannibal smiles in thanks to Jack's compliment. He had both you and Jack over for dinner, and he's glad his guests are enjoying the main course.

Hannibal had said it was rabbit meat. Only he knows that it's really the poor missing girl on the news, served alongside greens and a glass of wine.

He walks over to you, his own glass in hand. When he sees you reaching for the pitcher of his specialty sauce, he grabs it before you.

"Let me help you with that." He pours a generous amount onto your steak before piercing a morsel with your fork, bringing it up to your lips. Caught off-guard, your lips part. It's delicious.

"Oh, dear," He tuts, placing the fork down. "You have some sauce on your lips. Here, let me."

You nod, puckering them slightly, expecting him to clean it off with a napkin – wait. Oh. He's leaning in, and his lips almost touch yours—