Hello! We are Cat and Bee from RusCanWonderland on Tumblr.

Disclaimers, Notes & Warnings:

We do not own Hetalia or any characters within.

Warnings: Cannibalism, murder, rape, hannibal references

Notes: THIS IS NOT A TAME AU. It is heavily based off of the three Anthony Hopkins Hannibal movies. It does not have that many references to the newer Hannibal TV series, as Matthew claims more of a Clarice Starling role with a few Will Graham traits.

Ivan couldn't quite remember the last time he had seen natural daylight. His cell had no windows and only a single glass wall with a door and a sliding tray to pass food and water through. The food he received was glorified gruel and stuck to the palette in the same way that peanut butter did. The cell itself was rather roomy under the circumstances. It had a bed, a toilet, and a desk that Ivan had used to store many of his drawings and the soft bits of charcoal and pastel and crayon he had been given. The art piled up was of various things from memory. Places he had been, faces he had seen in paintings, the twisting sinews of statues that looked like real people. Beautiful things, wonderful things, untainted by time or the ugliness of humanity.

Ivan looked up from smearing charcoal in a shaded line of the Vatican's dome. There was a grind of cell doors and the man refused to tear his eyes from the glass as he listened to delicate footsteps. Heeled boots. To make the person seem taller, more intimidating… A scent of fleece… Of lavender and ocean breeze fabric soap and softener… And something else… Something seductive and heated and sweet… The person themselves must have a weakness for sweets.

Ivan stood slowly when the blonde came in sight, bobbed blonde curls, a sweetly soft face and the arch of an elegant French nose. He had rather sweet looking lips as well, and full, plump cheeks. The coat he wore hung baggy and concealing over a thin frame and the man in the cell could see the slim cut of the pants and the navy blue turtleneck beneath the tan coat.

"Well well well… What has Arthur Kirkland of the FBI sent to me this time…" The man approached the glass and peered curiously down at the blonde before he smirked and purred lowly. "He really shouldn't have."

The murder leaned forward and his eyes dragged slow and languid over the blonde's form and clothing, and the force of the gaze was so intense that it was surprising to any third party watching that fabric hadn't been all but torn off of the thin frame.

"Let me guess…" The man hummed for a moment before he straightened slightly. "From you dress you're a cadet in the FBI training academy down in Quantico, you don't wear a suit or the type of shoes that someone of a higher status would wear or even be able to afford and not true FBI agent would be caught without a suit in some form or another when coming into a place like this. It's some subconscious way to assert dominance in the FBI, dressing nicer than the person you interrogate." Eyes flicked down to the packet of papers in the boy's slender fingers. "But you aren't here to interrogate me are you? That folder isn't thick enough to be a case file nor is it written on or copied with notes in any way, which means that it's that rather dull and ham-handed survey that Kirkland sends me every year…" The tip of the man's tongue dragged over his upper lip. "Which means that he's finally begun to appeal to my taste in aesthetics by sending me a pretty little cadet with big blue eyes and soft looking cheeks in hopes of softening me up enough to give you what he wants." Large hands planted against the two vertical bars that helped support the bulletproof glass of the wall. "So tell me… Matthew… Why did you agree to Kirkland's sticky little scheme?"

Matthew tilted his head and smiled, his stance never wavering as he peered directly at Ivan's face, unphased and gentle as ever. "My, you're as observant as everyone says; perhaps you'll dazzle me and tell me how many eyelashes Iater, hm?" The blonde sat in the in the single, lonely chair a good three feet away from the glass prison.

"As to why I agreed, I believe that isn't quite your business yet," Matthew hummed, his lips parting to take in a breath as he smoothed the folder's cover as it rested against his thighs. "How are you? Seeing as there's really no need for introductions, you've seemed to have figured me out the moment I walked in the door."

Matthew would not admit how it disturbed him, but he figured he should've expected it.

"I'm in an eight by ten cell and have been for the past twenty years… All things considered i'm doing quite well." The man tilted his head towards the holes at the top of the glass wall, breathing deeply and humming in pleasure. "How were the pancakes you had for breakfast? I haven't had anything decent in years so must take my pleasure from the enjoyment of others." The older male tooled his head down and smirked at the blonde. He could smell the tenseness of the blonde and it thrilled him to see the nervous twitches of the pale form.

Matthew laughed softly and shrugged up a shoulder. "They're my favorite, Ivan. But I suppose it's a little redundant to ask you yours?" The blonde smiled, peering over his glasses at the man behind the glass's face.

Ivan grinned and dragged his tongue over his upper lip. "You've seen my file then? Thoughts?" Violet eyes fixed on Matthew's in intense interest. He liked this child… He caught the cannibal's attention in more ways than one.

"I'm not sure of anyone in the agency that hasn't seen you file, Mr. Braginski. It's honestly a…commodity around the office," Matthew smile and crossed one knee over the other, a gentle little smile on his face. "As for my personal thoughts? Well," Matthew laughed softly, fingertips gently pressing to his lips lightly, "…I think we can withhold something for another time."

"I don't receive conjugal visits, my dear." The man leaned against the glass and his eyes flared add they trailed over the curves of the blonde's leg and hip. "And am I to assume that you spent last night looking over that file of mine? The circles under your eyes are rather telling… And you have been glancing at my drawings."

"They're very good,…though I suppose to do what you have done, a skilled hand is favored?" Matthew smiled and shifted, a fingertip trailing along the edges of the papers in his lap. "And you will receive conjugal visits from me, now, , aren't you ever so lucky to have a fresh cadet to torment?" the blonde teased, a smile hidden behind a conveniently dipped head. "You sound proud of that file….as proud of your drawings?"

"My file is filled with works of art, just as my cell is." The man tilted his head. "You could say that my file is the most viewed artistic portfolio in the world next to Leonardo Da Vinci." The man smirked. "I have elevated murder into an art form in the way I posed my victims and then again in the way I cooked them… Before my arrest food critics the world over sang my praises."

"Do you have a favorite?" Matthew asked suddenly, his smile still tracing his lips. "….praise I mean. I wouldn't dare ask you a favorite…recipe," the blonde hummed, not once glancing down at the papers in his lap. Instead, he tried to ignore the twist in his stomach just listening to what Ivan had to say.

"My favourite praise was from a French chef I had invited to dinner when I went to visit Paris one year. Consequently I had served him my favourite meal, braised lungs and a roasted heart on a bed of asparagus, spinach and tomatoes." Ivan smirked and his voice lowered as he watched Matthew. "He had equated the sensation of eating his own coworker with making love in a most beautiful wine garden to the goddess Aphrodite herself."

Matthew was quiet for a moment, his head tilted just so as he gazed at Ivan from his safe distance, safe from what, he wasn't sure."You say it as though it were a beautiful, intimate thing…making love to wine and having euphoric sensations over food no matter the meat's origin. It's very poetic…like a song. Like your art…how interesting, Mr. Braginski."

"Do you know who my victims were?" Ivan smirked and his tongue flicked over his upper lip. "Murders, rapists, thieves, frauds and abusers. They were the scum of the earth that the law had let roam free without so much add a slap on the wrists." Ivan's eyes flared. "I exacted justice, and in doing so I turned then into something beautiful, artistic. Whoever they were in life, however low and vile, I turned them into art and delight, a visual artwork and an edible poem."

"Do you think someone deserves that," Matthew started with a gentle head tilt. "…a so called beautiful death, an artistic demise…when they were nothing but the scum of the earth?" the blonde asked, his finger trailing over the paper's edge slowly.

"I believe that people must give back something beautiful to the world in their lifetime. How else would those criminals, those sub-humans, have given something beautiful if not for their deaths?" Ivan's eye followed the trail of the slender digit before they dragged up the thin arm, over shoulders and collarbones, as if he were undressing the blonde with only his eyes.

"And what would you say to someone who doesn't particularly…share or understand your beliefs?" Matthew asked softly, eyes set on Ivan's face, his gaze watching Ivan's carefully.

"Then that is their belief." The man smirked. "I knew the consequence to my actions. I had expected death or life in prison and honestly revelled in the thought of being sent to prison, to expand my dossier. What I hadn't expected was to be placed in here to have my mind fumbled at like a freshman with a young girl's bra."

Ivan smirked as his fingers dragged over the metal supports of his wall, his eyes doing the same over Matthew's body, cataloguing every soft curve and wonderful dip in the frame before him. "Do you not share my belief, cadet? Maybe I could convert you."

Matthew laughed softly, fingers touching his lips lightly. "I highly doubt you could convert me to any of your beliefs, Mr. Braginski…though it's quite amusingbto think you could try and convert me."

Ivan smirked as he stared intently at the blonde for a moment before he spoke. "And what is that thing you've been fiddling with? Hmmm?"

"Thing? Honestly for someone as intelligent as you, it's a little disappointing to see that you don't know what a personal file looks like," Matthew smiled, cool and guarded but as gentle as ever.."I must say as much as your case seems to disturb everyone onthe force, it is still highly fascinating."

Ivan raised an eyebrow at the file before he spoke up. "As flattering as it would be for you to bring my own file to me… That's not mine is it? Too thin…" Violet eyes fixed on blue, luring Matthew closer. "Its that wild rascal that the FBI has been hunting, the lady killer, the… Tooth Fairy add he's been so crassly named." Ivan smirked and raised an eyebrow. "any thoughts as to why he's named such a ridiculous name?"

Matthew smiled and leaned forward, elbows on the paper file as he gazed at Ivan through the glass. "Well, I can assure you it isn't because he's a sweet little pixie that likes leaving quarters for children,…some say it's because of an oral fixation with biting victims, but others I think just like to call him that to tick him off," the blonde sighed, his eyes gazing at the cover folder on top of his thighs. "…you know more about him than just his little nickname, Mr. Braginski?"

Ivan's lips curled into a smirk. "And what would you be willing to give me if I did?" He asked with a quirked eyebrow, his fingers tapping along the door frame as he stared intently at Matthew. "Because I know a great deal about our mouthy friend… Because we don't have long before he finds that next special lady."

The blonde frowned quietly, but attempted to hide it behind a gentle smile. "And what exactly could I give to you, Mr. Braginski? I don't think money is something you'd particularly be after, and you're aware I can't even begin to argue a pardon for you. But," Matthew sighed, tucking a curl behind his ear. "…I believe even you can sympathize with how important it is to bring him in before someone else is hurt."

Sharp teeth were shown in a grin. "But nothing doesn't get you something, Cadet." Ivan leaned forward. "I won't speak with anyone else about this. I will only speak with you." The man's lips curled into a smirk. "I can make you very happy, Matthew, I can give you the Tooth Fairy, make you an agent by the end of the year, give you fame and the knowledge that you were the one to capture this monster… But you have to give me something in return." Ivan ran his tongue over his upper lip before he continued. "But we'll get to that later… For now." Ivan leaned back and sat on the edge of his bed, folding his legs in a professional manner, as if he were in his office. "The girls, were they all natural? Was their hair dyed in any way? To use a rather crude term did the carpet match the drapes?" Ivan tilted his eyes. "Blonde hair is a fixation. He's picking his victims based off of specific physical traits. Their connection is aesthetics only, there is no day to day connection."

Matthew was silent for a long moment, listening to what Ivan had to say while sitting as still as he could. He wasn't sure what Ivan was implying by offering his help for whatever service he requested in return, and a part of Matthew didn't even wish to fancy the idea to find out. He was not of any authority to give favors. "You're correct…but that doesn't necessarily narrow the playing field to whom he would go after next, except for pretty blonde women. It isn't entirely specific."

"Tell me, cadet. What does this man do?" Ivan asked as he looked at the blonde. "Specifically. Narrow it to one word." Ivan leaned back on his bed. "Every criminal does something based off of a single urge or emotion. What does this man do?"

Closing his eyes, Matthew laughed softly and shook his head before peering back across at Ivan's face. "What exactly is it that you want me to say, Mr. Braginski? That he's a well thought out, skilled magician that chooses his victims in quite literally a science? Will you analyze me on my answer, too? This man kills innocent people, and that's all there is to it; for whatever reason he may think gives it justice."

Ivan tilted his face towards the blonde. "That sort of thinking won't get you very far in the FBI, cadet." Ivan straightened and stood, leaning towards the glass. "To catch a killer you need to think like one, if the doe could know what is going through a hunter's mind then she would doubtless survive the season." Ivan flicked his eyes to the file. "Give me the file… And go back to the FBI and tell them that I'll be on the case with you… And come back in the morning."