Page 18 of Pistols and Plush Toys

Nikolai's forearms were heavily scarred. Most of the scars were obviously old, nothing fresh or newly healing. But there were a lot of them, up and down both arms. Some were raised white lines, but many were little puckered round dots.

Elliot knew what burn marks looked like. Everyone who spent time in the kitchen tended to.

Nikolai ignored Elliot’s stare and reached for the bag of potatoes, splitting it open quickly with one of the knives before putting the knife back on the magnetic rack and turning on the sink.

Nikolai had big hands and broad palms that worked quickly and efficiently at rinsing the potatoes. One by one they were moved to the cutting board.

Elliot stayed quiet as Nikolai dried his hands and reached again for one of the knives.

He got a glimpse of a hanko on the knife, and wished he were allowed to get closer to identify that stamp mark on the metal.

He knew why Nikolai wasn’t letting him handle knives, he did, and he wasn’t about to try to argue.

Not when he was only just allowed to use the kitchen at all.

He wondered what it would be like to use Nikolai’s knives for cooking though. If they were as sharp and smooth as the ones Elliot had gotten the chance to use at Olive & Plate and Melrose. Before he’d met Mattia, Elliot had been saving up to buy himself his own dream set of knives.

After Mattia…

“Anything I’m needing to know about cutting them?” Nikolai asked.

“Oh,” Elliot said, startling. Stupid, stupid. He’d just been standing there, staring at the knife rack. Not suspicious at all. “Yeah, um, cut them into quarter inch slices? A-and if you could aim for uniform sizes so they all cook the same.”

Nikolai nodded and got to work. Elliot made himself turn back to the rest of the groceries, but monitored the first few cuts out of the corner of his eye.

He needn’t have worried, he realized immediately. Nikolai lacked the expertise that came with training, but he was adept with a knife. He chopped carefully but evenly, one slice after another.

Elliot shook his head and went to preheat the oven.

Once that was done, he opened up the cabinets one by one until he found the one with the baking sheets. He pulled one out and set it on the counter, then pulled the brand new box of parchment paper out of one of the grocery bags and lined the tray.

“Um—” he started, glancing back over at Nikolai.

Nikolai stilled his knife work and looked up. “Yes?”

Standing there in the well-lit kitchen with his sleeves rolled up, Nikolai looked…

somehow more approachable, even though his expression was still stern.

Maybe because Elliot was used to serious expressions in the kitchen, but Nikolai looked less like he was angry and more like he was just giving Elliot his full focus.

Nikolai was being kind to him, allowing Elliot to cook here, even if he didn’t trust Elliot around the knives, and it suddenly struck Elliot in that moment how handsome the man was with his well-defined forearms on display and his ice-blue eyes giving Elliot his full attention regarding something Elliot loved so much.

“Bowls?” Elliot stammered, face flushing as he averted his eyes.

He had no business thinking Nikolai was handsome, and not only because Elliot wasn’t here of his own free will.

Elliot was with Mattia. He shouldn’t be looking at—at anyone.

The few times Mattia thought that Elliot’s eyes had wandered—

“Big ones or small ones?” Nikolai asked.

“Oh, um,” Elliot glanced back up. “One big, for seasoning the potatoes, and a small one to mix the dip.”

Nikolai pointed to two cabinets. Elliot hurriedly turned away to grab them, then busied himself with going through the spice drawers to pull out the ones he needed.

By the time he was done assembling the seasoning and had pulled the rest of the ingredients out of the grocery bags, Nikolai had finished cutting up all the potatoes.

Elliot gave them a quick starch and seasoning in the big bowl while Nikolai hand-washed and dried the knife, before hanging it back up. After Elliot arranged the potatoes on the baking tray, he slid it inside the preheated oven and set the timer.

“What is now?” Nikolai asked. He was leaning against the counter, watching.

For a second, it felt like Elliot was back at a restaurant, teaching one of the new staff. He started narrating what he was doing automatically.

“So the a?oli is pretty simple,” he said, going over to where he had the small bowl and the rest of his ingredients set up. He reached for the mayonnaise and then paused. “You’ve never had it before, have you?”

“No.”

Elliot nodded. “So I’ll make a small batch in case you don’t like it.”

Nikolai frowned. “Do you like it?”

“Wh-what?”

Nikolai waved a hand in the direction of the oven. “Is not just me who will be eating potatoes. Unless you don’t like it?”

“Oh,” Elliot said, nonplussed. “No, I um, I like this recipe.”

“Then you make enough so we both have plenty if I’m like,” Nikolai said matter-of-factly.

“Oh,” Elliot said again. “Okay.”

There were measuring cups, but Elliot had made this enough that he didn’t need it. He added things to the bowl, talking through each ingredient automatically, as Nikolai looked on. Once he’d mixed it all together, he grabbed a clean spoon to take a taste.

“Is good?” Nikolai asked, sounding actually interested.

“Just needs a touch more garlic,” Elliot said, setting the dirty spoon aside to add more and remix. He pulled out another spoon to take a second taste. “Perfect.”

“I’m can try?” Nikolai asked, leaning forward.

It pulled a smile out of Elliot. “Yeah, of course.”

He grabbed another spoon from the drawer and scooped up a tasting of the dip, heart beating faster as he watched Nikolai slip the spoon into his mouth.

He hoped the man liked it. Hoped, at least, he wouldn’t actively dislike it.

Elliot didn’t know if he’d be able to stomach Nikolai knocking the bowl of a?oli to the tiled floor of the kitchen and turning away with a scoff.

Though at least if Elliot was crouched down to clean up the wasted food, Nikolai wouldn’t be able to see any tears that might escape.

“Mmm,” Nikolai rumbled, and Elliot’s breath caught.

“You like it?” He asked tentatively.

“Yes,” Nikolai said decisively. “Is good. Tangy.”

Elliot licked his lips. “It’s even better with the fries.”

Nikolai nodded. “I am excited to try.”

Elliot felt himself beaming back. He knew it was stupid to be flattered by such a small thing. Stupid to be pleased that Nikolai liked the a?oli. It wasn’t like it was even complicated. There wasn’t very much at all to mess up.

But it had been so long since he’d gotten to make food for someone with any success. So long since he’d made something that someone actually liked . He hadn’t realized until he was standing in his kidnapper’s kitchen how much he missed it.

There was something wrong with him, to have this be one of his more pleasant experiences in recent memory.

That wiped the smile off his face.

“Something is wrong?” Nikolai asked.

“No,” Elliot said quickly, turning to check the timer on the oven. He’d need to flip the fries soon. “No, um, no this was really nice. Being able to cook. Thank you.”

Nikolai hummed, and out of the corner of his eye Elliot could see him crossing his arms, leaning back casually against the kitchen island. It made his biceps bulge in a way that made Elliot hurriedly turn to pick up the spatula.

“I am sorry I’m not thinking to ask sooner,” Nikolai said. “Boredom is… corrosive.”

It was a peculiar way to put it, but Nikolai wasn’t wrong. “Yeah,” Elliot said quietly, looking at the floor.

There was a long stretch of silence where both of them just sort of stood there. Then Nikolai shifted. “What else I’m can get you? So you’re less bored.”

Elliot’s thoughts went back immediately to the pen he’d been handed earlier to write the shopping list. He hadn’t been allowed to keep it, but just having something to write with so he could work on his puzzle book...

But Nikolai didn’t want him to have writing utensils, because they could be used as weapons. It would be silly to ask, just to be told no.

Something must have shown on his face though, because Nikolai opened his mouth again. “You think of something? Tell me.” Before he snapped, “No biting.”

Elliot hadn’t even realized he’d bitten his lip. “S-sorry.”

“No biting,” Nikolai said again. “You have something to say, you should say. Tell me.”

Elliot winced. “Maybe, um, a pen? Or pencil. Something I could write with.”

Nikolai tilted his head, regarding him. “What it is for?”

“I… I like puzzles,” Elliot admitted, flushing. “I have a puzzle book in my bag, but I don’t have anything to write with. Doing them in my head is… harder.”

“Ah,” Nikolai said. He scratched the side of his neck thoughtfully. “You have not tried to stab me, so you can have pen.”

“Really?” Elliot asked hopefully.

“So long as you still cooperate,” Nikolai said. “I’m can make it so you are less bored.”

“I don’t think I really have it in me to try anything to escape,” Elliot said quietly. Nikolai wouldn’t believe him, but he said it anyway.

“I think I’m agree,” Nikolai said. It sounded almost like a compliment.

The timer went off to flip the fries, so Elliot did. He reset the timer, and then Nikolai gestured them around to the kitchen island to where there were bar stool seats.

“So,” Nikolai said after they’d sat. “Puzzles? What kind?”

That gave Elliot pause. The last people he’d ever talked puzzles with had been his old group of friends.

Mattia knew that he was constantly going through puzzle books, but Elliot tried not to draw attention to it if he could help it.

They were things that filled his alone hours when Mattia was out, and he wasn’t eager to chance Mattia choosing to take them away.