Various x Reader

Date Night ||Hannibal||

Potential tw: depictions of food & knives and a mention of wine (food preparation)

Requested by: @riviqnthgaylord

You and Hannibal made it a point to have a date night every once in a while, where he would cook dinner, and you would bake dessert. Because of this, your kitchen was always full, and often warm from the aftermath of either your baking or your partner's cooking.

You were often entranced by the scent of spices and cooked meat. He would try to impress no one but himself—tossing eggs into the air, and catching them with a circular strainer, just to prove to himself that he could.

Of course, he felt similarly about your baking. Everything seemed to come out perfect—certain recipes and measurements you knew by heart, and most others you could predict the proper measurements. When things went wrong, you either knew exactly how to fix it, or exactly where you went wrong.

He felt that this difference said something about the two of you as people: you were a man of science, and he was a man of art. As a result, he hardly ever baked, and you didn't know how to cook very well. But you wanted to learn; it was a difficult urge to avoid after watching him.

It was near dinner time, and you watched as Hannibal set out the cookware, the most noticeable of which including bowls, knives, and cutting boards of different sizes.

You had just pulled a batch of cookies out of the oven, their aroma filling the kitchen, along with a wave of heat. You had made them from scratch, but you still looked at your boyfriend with a tinge of envy.

"Can you teach me how to cook?" You blurted out after setting the cookies safely to the side, away from his cooking space.

He looked back at you and smiled. "Of course."

You smiled at him before opening the closet to put your apron on. Since there were two chefs in the house, Hannibal was adamant on giving you your own hook each. You closed the closet, tying the apron in the back as you made your way towards him.

"Baking is a safety net. It requires measurements and timing, giving the baker a sense of security. The cooker never knows what to expect in their food—only using their intuition to guide them in their art. You must learn to let go of any fear you have towards the dish." He explained, flipping through his ingredient cards, before finally settling on one.

"First," he said, gesturing to a line of several knives of differing shapes and sizes, "you must never underestimate the utility of a good knife." He set the card down before making his way to the meat freezer, no came back with what appeared to be a deer leg. "The quality of a knife is the difference between a clean cut, and one that is ridged and dull. In some cases, it can be the difference between life and death."

He set the leg on a cutting board next to the plethora of knives.

"You must pick a knife, my dear."

You skimmed the options before deciding on the butcher's knife—you'd seen him using it on meat this big before, and it was the largest knife.

"Good instinct. It appears you'll be better at this than you think, my dear."

You smiled up at him in response, though you had a little bit of doubt.

He stood behind you, his chest pressed up against your back as he helped guide your hand with cutting into the meat, allowing you to feel the right amount of pressure needed to cut into the meat. Once you started getting the hang of it, he kissed your neck, and moved his hands to the top of your shoulders. Eventually, they trailed to your shoulders, and he began to massage them.

"You should take your binder off after dinner." Hannibal murmured, kissing your neck. You nod, trying to focus on your cutting.

It was more difficult getting the meat off the bone into individual pieces than it was to cut the meat into smaller pieces. He demonstrated briefly how to dice (cutting the meat vertically, then horizontally), before letting you do the rest.

He taught you to clean the knife with soap and water after using it with raw meat, then showed you different methods to chopping the different vegetables you were using—usually a Julienne.

Once everything was prepared, he turned the burner on low, and spread coconut oil on the bottom of one of the skillets before putting it on one of the burner spots for the oil to melt a bit. He explained the differences in heat—lower will cook in inside, higher will cook the outside.

He guided your hand through the motions of stirring up the vegetables in the skillet. While you were letting the vegetables cook on medium heat, he got out another skillet, and set it on a burner at a lower heat.

"I will be cooking the meat if that is alright. I know the first cook can be daunting."

"That's fine." You said, being content in stirring the vegetables in with any oils and spices he added to your skillet, explaining the meaning behind each one, and the flavor it would bring. Meanwhile, he added a dash of wine to the meat he was cooking in his burner.

"It adds flavor." He explained when he caught you watching as he put the bottle down. You nodded, and went back to stirring the vegetables.

He told you when you could turn the temperature lower, and eventually turn it off. You propped the spatula against the skillet, and walked up behind your partner, wrapping your arms around his waist and leaning against him.

"Would you like to shake it?"

"What?"

"I'll show you. Step back?"

You took a step back, and watched as Hannibal shook the skillet from one side to the other quickly.

You smiled at him, and declined. He kissed your forehead in return, and continued to shake the meat up, allowing bits of it to rise out of the pan before falling back in.

Once the two of you were done cooking, you were able to eat at a long, wood table the two of you had set before cooking. There were candles set between the two of you, as well as the chandelier over head, and the fireplace burning.

"You did well," he stated once the two of your were finished," perhaps you are a natural after all. Now, how about your dessert?" He got up to gather your plate and utensils, and kissed your forehead, before coming back with your your plate of cookies.