Page 12 of Pistols and Plush Toys

Heart in his throat, Elliot wrapped the towel around himself then slid the glass door the rest of the way open, glancing over at Nikolai despite every instinct in him screaming that he shouldn’t.

Nikolai was still there, still leaned against the doorframe. Still on his phone. Not looking.

Quickly, Elliot bent to scoop up the clothing he’d set on the bathmat.

He turned away and dropped the towel, pulled on the underwear, then the shirt, then the sweatpants.

He cinched the tie on the sweatpants to fit his waist, then stepped fully out of the shower.

When he looked again, Nikolai still hadn’t moved.

He felt… better now that he was redressed. Clean and redressed.

Elliot reached back into the shower to pick up the towel to hang it up.

He didn’t want to make Nikolai upset by being untidy.

Then he pulled on the clean pair of socks before heading back to the bags.

He got out the toothbrush and toothpaste and went about scrubbing his mouth down.

He followed it up with mouthwash to clear the last of the sickness from his palate.

All in all, it had to have taken less than fifteen minutes for him to clean up.

Feeling clean was doing wonders for him though.

The fear and anxiety of the morning had turned down if only slightly, and even the headache had retreated to a manageable throbbing behind his temples.

He went and rolled up the bundle of his dirty clothes together before edging up to Nikolai where he was still tapping away at his phone.

“I’m done, sir,” Elliot said.

“Is just one minute,” the man said as he kept typing on his phone.

Elliot shifted anxiously from foot to foot until Nikolai nodded as if satisfied and returned his phone to his pocket.

He turned then to face Elliot. “Good, you are clean,” he said, looking Elliot up and down assessingly.

“Now we are needing to fix you up. Clothes can go in hamper.” He pointed to a clothing basket tucked into the corner of the bathroom.

Fix you up. What… what did that mean? But Nikolai was already moving more fully into the bathroom, walking over to the sink and bending down to get to the cabinets underneath. Elliot watched him rifle around and then come out with…

A bottle of antiseptic and a roll of gauze.

Nikolai looked at Elliot, frowning to catch Elliot staring and not moving.

Hamper, clothing. Right. Elliot rushed to take his soiled bundle to dump it in the hamper.

“Good,” Nikolai said when Elliot turned back around to face him. “Now we fix you up. Come here.”

Elliot obediently walked forward, the anxiety returning, and he bit his lip to keep any noise from escaping.

“Stop that,” Nikolai said sharply.

Elliot jumped. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry, stop—stop what?”

Nikolai pointed to his own mouth. “Biting lip. Is split already. You’re keep making it worse.”

“O-oh,” Elliot said, twisting his fingers together. “I’m sorry.”

Nikolai gave him another one of those steely eyed looks. One of those do not test me looks. Fuck, his eyes were so blue. “Your wrists,” Nikolai said, holding a hand out.

Elliot couldn’t help jolting again in surprise. Was this man really going to tie him up and treat his raw wrists in the span of two hours?

Maybe he’d been concussed when he’d been kidnapped yesterday and this day was all a bizarre, nonsensical nightmare.

Still, he edged closer and held out his right wrist like Nikolai had demanded. He was too afraid of what might happen if he wasn’t obedient.

It was nerve-wracking being so close to him though.

Nikolai towered over Elliot, both in height and width, and Elliot really didn’t want to do anything else to piss him off.

Just because he’d gotten out of that awful warehouse earlier mostly unscathed didn’t mean that Nikolai wouldn’t hurt him if Elliot unintentionally pushed too many of the man’s buttons.

And Elliot already knew he was the kind of person likely to do that.

But Nikolai was… gentle with him. He didn’t grasp Elliot’s wrist tightly or yank him around. The antiseptic was a spray, and he used it liberally. When he set the bottle down he picked up the gauze and carefully wrapped it around Elliot’s right wrist, before repeating everything with the left.

It was strange to see such a big, imposing man handle Elliot’s much smaller wrist like it was fragile, as if Nikolai didn’t want to do more damage to him.

It was surreal to be cared for at all, especially in this awful situation Elliot was in.

Usually he was the one cleaning himself up.

That, or hiding the damage as best he could.

Fresh out of the shower, Elliot’s palms were already clammy from the focused attention.

Nikolai wasn’t saying anything, wasn’t even doing anything intimidating really, but his attention was like a simmering pot, and this close Elliot was starting to sweat.

He could smell Nikolai’s cologne, spicy and warm, which Elliot wouldn’t have expected from this stern Russian man with piercing blue eyes.

“There. Good,” Nikolai declared when he was finished. He let go of Elliot’s wrist and picked up the antiseptic spray and gauze. They went back into the cabinet. “Now come.”

Nikolai led him back to his room, and Elliot went in without fuss.

After a few seconds he felt the hair on the back of his neck prickle, and he realized he hadn’t heard the door close.

He turned back around. Nikolai was standing there at the threshold watching him. Elliot couldn’t help the way his heartbeat shot up.

“I’m will… be checking on you in a few hours,” Nikolai said after another beat, his blue eyes seemed to stare right through Elliot. “If you are hungry, there is food and water.” He nodded at the small refrigerator.

“Okay,” Elliot said, even though he was still the farthest thing away from hungry. “Thank you.”

Nikolai watched him a moment longer and then nodded and pulled the door closed.

Elliot heard the lock snap into place, and his entire body deflated.

He had just enough energy to make it back to the bed and collapse down on top of it, exhausted.

The sun was still shining merrily and he had no idea what time it was, but he felt like he’d aged years in the span of hours.

He laid there staring at the ceiling trying to get his bearings. It was only when he remembered Apricot that he conjured the energy to move. He wiggled back up the bed, turning over to reach down the far side and find his plush there where he had dropped him.

Immediately he pulled Apricot to his chest, curling around the soft fur, burying his face in it once more. He whispered a soft apology to the animal.

He was sorry for tossing him away like that, sorry for bringing him into a situation like this.

He was just sorry .

Elliot closed his eyes and tried to sink into the comfort of Apricot’s soft, familiar body.

He tried to imagine himself somewhere else, not this room or even Mattia's penthouse, but in someplace like the diner. Someplace like his old work, where everything had been familiar. Safe. Where he’d felt confident, competent, and unafraid.

Would he ever get back to a place like that? Would he ever stop being such a useless burden?

Elliot took a deep, shaky breath that wasn’t a sob— it wasn’t. He’d cried enough, and he wasn’t going to do it again.