Hors D'oeuvres (Hannibal One-shots)

Hindsight

Summary: Jimmy Price and Brian Zeller go out for drinks, and inevitably, the conversation turns to the FBI's Most Wanted Murder Husbands.

Price/Zeller (Preller, Forensic Boyfriends), post-fall.

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Jimmy Price paused at the doorway as he put on his coat. "Going my way?"

Brian Zeller snorted. "You say that as if we don't leave at the same time every day." He took one last glance around the room before approaching Jimmy and turning the light off behind them.

If Jimmy could smile and pout at the same time, that would sum up his current facial expression. He shrugged goodnaturedly. "I thought it was funny."

"Yeah, well, don't quit your day job."

The men continued to bicker as they navigated the winding, empty hallways to the employee parking lot. Outside, the cold air nipped and bit at every inch of exposed skin. It was a relief to get into Jimmy's old beat-up car and turn the heat on. No words needed to be spoken as to where they were going; Jimmy drove to their favorite bar, and they found their usual seats. The bartender greeted them by name and knew their (albeit simple) orders by heart.

After the normal chitchat about their job — the most recent crime scene was the fourth in a string of related murders across the east coast — Brian set down his beer and angled himself towards Jimmy.

"So, I have to ask: have you heard anything about Will or Dr. Lecter?"

"'Or'?" Jimmy raised an eyebrow at him. "You and I both know that if there's news about the one, there'll be news about the other."

Brian rolled his eyes. "Alright, smartass, have you heard anything about Will and Dr. Lecter?"

"About as much news as deserts have rain during a dry spell."

Brian sighed, staring into his glass as he spun its frothy contents around. "Too bad." His shoulders tensed, and both men knew what was coming next as he pushed forward. "Everyone was always going on and on about how smart and talented Will Graham was, with his special way of thinking, as if he could deduce all the answers from merely fucking around in the crime scene and then taking wild stabs in the dark without any forensic evidence." His fingers were white where he gripped his glass. "Makes me sick."

"He was almost always right," said Jimmy, in a poorly-timed attempt at being objective.

Brian growled and bared his teeth. "That's not the point."

"Then what is your point? Because whatever else we think — and trust me, I'm not any more fond of him than you are — there's a reason why everyon–"

Brian slammed his beer down so hard that it sloshed over the lip of his glass. "Oh, not you, too!"

"Z, you know I don't like him–"

"So why the fuck are you defending him?"

It was Jimmy's turn to put his glass down harder than intended. "Are you seriously jealous of Will Graham? Still?"

"I'm not jealous of Will Graham!"

"Oh, horseshit!" said Jimmy so passionately that Brian startled and closed his mouth. "You're jealous of Will fucking Graham! Jealous of a mentally unstable recluse who murdered his way through the FBI and then jumped off a cliff with the Chesapeake Ripper, who also happened to be his therapist! Honestly, Z, grow up!"

Silence fell like an anvil over the two men. Around them, the bar continued to buzz as more and more people entered, but they weren't aware of anyone but each other. Brian's jaw worked, while Jimmy pursed his lips and wiped some condensation off his glass. Neither of them could look the other in the eye.