Page 25 of Pistols and Plush Toys

There were about a dozen fires that Nikolai needed to be putting out. Emails he needed to respond to, calls he needed to make. There was… everything with the blown up store that needed to be taken care of.

Yet instead, Nikolai just kept ruminating on the conversation with Brooks from yesterday. He’d been honest when Brooks had asked if he’d ever killed someone. He’d told Brooks the full story.

It had felt like the very least of what he owed Brooks after the prior day's incident. After acting like some brute, terrifying him and hurting him.

But Nikolai had promised himself he’d never tell anyone what had happened to him. What he’d done. What he’d chosen to do. The only other time he’d ever broken that promise to himself was when he’d told Gerard, as a much younger man.

Gerard was the nearest that Nikolai had to a best friend.

Over a decade ago, when they’d been men trying to make their way in the world, stiff and divested from their emotions, they’d spent a long night drinking together after being passed on by a prospective vendor, and they’d gotten to talking over a bottle of vodka.

Maybe that was why Nikolai’s tongue had loosened. He’d been with a friend, instead of drinking alone, and so hadn’t fallen into the numbness.

Gerard hadn’t cried when Nikolai had told him the story of his past. He’d nodded in understanding, cursed out Nikolai’s fucker of a father, and then held up his glass to toast to a better and brighter future.

That Nikolai could handle. He didn’t know what to do with the odd coil of feelings that Brooks’s reaction had brought up.

So far the only real emotion Nikolai had seen on Brooks had been fear, aside from the few times he’d gotten Brooks to talk about cooking or food—then Nikolai had been able to see excitement, even joy.

He hadn’t expected Brooks to be horrified, even angry, on Nikolai’s behalf.

For something that had happened so long ago, that Nikolai had chosen.

No! You were a child! That’s not your fault.

He scrubbed a hand over his face, and then stared blankly once more at the computer screen. He needed to be working. He needed to be doing anything productive, anything at all.

Nikolai reached for his phone and went to his messages.

He had texts from Meredith, Alex, and Gerard.

No one had called him yet though, so at least nothing else was on fire.

He tapped his fingers idly on the desk. He needed to solve the problem with Vitale.

Needed to knock his own head into a wall a few times until some better idea shook itself loose.

Until then though, he had work he needed to be fucking doing.

He opened the texts from Gerard.

For as close as they were, he didn’t see as much of Gerard as he liked. As the other face of the company, Gerard was almost always where Nikolai wasn’t. Often, he handled the late night imports and deliveries, since Gerard was a trained gemologist on top of being Nikolai’s right hand.

The text was about the explosion. Gerard wanted to know what they were doing about it, and what their next move was.

Nikolai growled to himself. The next move was finding the bastards that blew their store up. Vitale was pulling the strings, but the lowly henchman needed to be taken care of too. To let them off the hook was to invite more people to try getting in Nikolai’s way.

He typed out said thoughts to Gerard, then he hit send. Less than a minute later he got a reply–just a check mark emoji. It was Gerard’s universal symbol for consider it done.

That taken care of, Nikolai turned his attention back to his computer.

He forced himself to answer emails and make phone calls all through the morning hours.

He’d put off going down to the station, so he scheduled that for the afternoon.

He’d go down and spin some story that no one was going to buy, but would become the official record. Grit his teeth and bear it.

Between all the work, he managed to put in order for sushi. Brooks had said he liked everything but crab, so Nikolai ordered a wide variety of rolls and sashimi.

He wondered if Brooks had ever made sushi.

Nikolai supposed in a culinary education, Brooks had probably made it at least once. Was sushi something chefs learned in basic training, or was that a specialty thing? Maybe he could ask while they had lunch.

He groaned, hitting the button to finish the food order a little too hard. There he went again, thinking about Brooks. It was… not great. Not helpful. Brooks was here as temporary leverage, that was all.

Still, he thought about the man smiling when he talked about cooking. How thrilled he’d been about the puzzle books.

He sighed and opened up his email.

***

Nikolai should’ve felt better leaving the police department. He should have felt satisfied that at least that part was done, but all he felt as he walked to his car was irritated.

As a precautionary and practical measure, he’d come alone to give his statement and answer questions. He was grateful for it now though, that there was no one in his employ waiting for him. That he could slide into the driver’s seat by himself and have a moment.

The thought of driving back home and having to make more calls, do more logistics, made him want to punch something. Being the boss was all fun and games until shit went down, and you were the one calling all the shots, making all the decisions. Everyone wanted– needed– to hear from you.

Stupidly, stupidly all Nikolai wanted to do was go home, order something deep-fried that would make Meredith mad, and… share it with Brooks.

Brooks had picked up on Nikolai’s sour mood at lunch, shrinking in on himself and fumbling with his chopsticks. In an effort to draw him out, because Brooks still wasn’t eating enough, Nikolai had asked him whether or not he’d ever studied sushi making.

As it turned out, Brooks did have experience making sushi, and he practically lit up as he regaled Nikolai with interesting facts on its preparation. Nikolai learned everything from how to season sushi rice to the different types of knives that were best for cutting the fish.

Brooks had even made a joke . He’d given Nikolai a tentative smile and said, “I actually know a lot about wielding a knife? But only if my opponent is destined for the dinner table.” Then he’d wrinkled his nose.

“That means I’m not interested in using knives on people.

Please don’t think I’m into cannibalism. ”

It had startled a laugh out of Nikolai, and even Brooks had laughed, if in a much shyer way.

It had been pleasant to hear Brooks laugh. To see him at ease enough to tell a story, or make a joke. He’d been engaging and interesting and—and cute with that little wrinkle in his nose—

“Пизде?ц,” Nikolai hissed, turning on his car with more force than necessary.

He didn’t have time for this. He had no fucking business thinking Brooks was cute, or that it was a bright spot in Nikolai’s day to hear him laugh or see him smile.

There was absolutely no excuse for those thoughts.

Nikolai was holding Brooks against his will.

If— when Vitale cooperated, Brooks would be going back to him.

Even if the thought of Brooks going back to Vitale—Brooks, who still flinched at every loud noise and who had already been too fucking thin when he’d been brought in—made dread sink like a stone in Nikolai’s gut.

That dread had Nikolai turning his car in another direction instead of driving straight back home. Downtown, toward the shopping district. He’d purchased all of the puzzle books for Brooks online, but he just—

He just wanted to get Brooks something else.

Another apology for Nikolai's poor behavior yesterday. Something to offer…. offer comfort, since Nikolai was so poor at providing it.

He was being stupidly foolish. He told himself this as he pulled up in front of the upscale toy store. Nikolai shouldn’t be providing comfort to Brooks, who was dating Vitale, Nikolai’s enemy.

“It–it helps, knowing that about you. About your dad. That you’re not like him. Or… or like M-Mattia.”

He parked the car, got out, and marched toward the store.

It isn’t a big deal, he insisted to himself he walked toward the stuffed animal aisle. It was just like the puzzle books, just something Brooks might like.

It didn’t mean anything.

The store had tons of stuffed animals. Everything from tiny keychain things to enormous toys bigger than the average child who might be playing with them.

It occurred to him then that he had no idea if Brooks had any preference in stuffed animals.

Nikolai had only ever seen the one, the giraffe, and a dataset of one didn’t provide much information at all.

He walked down one side of the aisle back up the other. There were just so many. How was he supposed to choose?

After another two passes, he began to get annoyed with himself. Why was he even here? What was he doing? He had no idea if Brooks would even like this. He was just making a big fool of himself.

As Nikolai hit the edge of his patience, his hand snapped out and grabbed a teddy bear. It was approximately the same size as the giraffe, the fur velvety soft in his hands. The bear looked like a basic teddy bear, so maybe it was a safe choice?

Stop thinking about it.

His phone buzzed in his pocket, and Nikolai pulled it out to see a message from Alex.

They’d finally been allowed to start picking through the store rubble and clearing the site.

Nikolai typed back a quick go-ahead, and then shoved his phone back in his pocket.

Still holding the bear, he stomped over to the cash register.

Because it was a higher end store, there was the option of gift wrapping, which he paid for. The bear went into a nicely lined box with tissue paper, and was ribboned closed.

Nikolai wasn’t sure if that was more or less embarrassing. He paid, took the box to the car, and drove home.

***