Page 38 of Pistols and Plush Toys

Nikolai would let Elliot order whatever he wanted? To cook whatever he wanted? In his beautiful chef-grade kitchen? “Thank you,” Elliot rasped.

“I’m will give you Meredith’s number later, okay?” Nikolai said.

The idea of speaking to Meredith was intimidating, but if Elliot was going to be cooking… “Okay.”

“Make good food you like,” Nikolai said, smiling at him, so handsome and kind that Elliot’s throat went dry.

“Okay,” he said again, stumbling back a step. “I’ll—I’ll let you know when lunch is ready.”

The smile got warmer. “Thank you,” Nikolai said. “Is something nice for me to look forward to.”

With that Nikolai returned to his laptop, somehow unaware of how his words and his smile left Elliot reeling.

Elliot managed to make himself head to the kitchen, head still spinning.

Nikolai wanted Elliot to cook because it made Elliot happy.

Not because it was something Elliot could do for Nikolai.

Not because he was expecting Elliot to give him something back.

Simply because it was something Elliot loved to do.

He went on autopilot to the refrigerator, looking through what groceries had been brought in, then doing the same for the freezer and the dry goods pantry.

Of course he wanted to make something good, but he wanted something healthy too.

A meal that Nikolai would hopefully find tasty but that also would appease Meredith in her quest to make Nikolai eat more vegetables and less fried foods.

In the end, Elliot landed on making a simple soup for lunch.

The groceries Nikolai had covered a lot of basics, but it was clear Meredith wasn’t used to buying for a wide variety of meals.

Or maybe that was just how she bought groceries when she didn’t have the direction from an in-house chef.

Actually, Elliot was surprised Nikolai had chicken stock and fresh cabbage, but maybe that was wishful thinking on Meredith’s part.

He pulled all his ingredients out and set them on the counter before getting out a large pot and a cutting board. Then he went for the knives.

The knives!

He couldn’t read the maker’s mark on some of them–he would need his phone for that–but Elliot still reveled at their quality. The handles were hefty, the blades beautifully gleaming, and at the first clean cut through the thick cabbage, he almost gasped aloud.

Elliot found himself humming quietly as he chopped cabbage and carrots and onions, and he looked furtively around the empty kitchen when he realized what he was doing.

He’d tried hard to kick the habit because Mattia said it was annoying but…

but Mattia wasn’t here. Nikolai was working in the other room.

Elliot’s humming wasn’t bothering anyone.

Trying not to overthink it, he let himself keep up the simple tune as he poured the chicken stock and vegetables and red lentils into the pot and turned on the heat.

As Elliot lovingly hand washed and dried the knives, putting them back before cleaning up the rest of the area, he started compiling a mental shopping list, meal ideas stacking up in his brain that could balance the nutrition Meredith wanted Nikolai to have with flavors that would make Nikolai interested in the food.

It was its own fun sort of puzzle. And he was…

he was looking forward to making food for Nikolai.

Elliot wanted to please him. This man who seemed so rough around the edges but who kept being shockingly kind.

At the forty minute mark, the food was done. Elliot pulled the toasted bread out of the oven, setting it on the stovetop before he turned down the heat on the soup pot.

He walked back through the house to the living room to find Nikolai, who was still frowning down at his laptop.

“Lunch is ready,” Elliot said, forcing himself to interrupt. “But I can keep it warm if you’re still busy—”

“I’m very ready,” Nikolai announced, setting the laptop aside. “Starving.” As he stood, his eyes crinkled in a smile. “I’m look forward to seeing what you make. Smells very good.”

Elliot flushed, suddenly overwarm, and quickly turned to lead them back toward the kitchen.

“Here, um, you can sit,” Elliot said, pointing to the table. “I’ll just—”

Nikolai nodded, taking a seat.

Elliot portioned two bowls of soup and plated the toasted bread to be shared between them.

He brought all of it to the table with silverware, feeling a mix of excitement and trepidation.

He’d made several meals for Nikolai now, but every time he still had this turmoil of emotion.

Excitement of the prospect of Nikolai liking his food, and the fear that it would turn out like everything he made for Mattia.

“I made a red lentil and cabbage soup,” Elliot said as he set the bowl in front of Nikolai. “I hope you like it.”

“Cabbage?” Nikolai asked, looking at his soup and then at Elliot. “But… it smells good?”

His obvious confusion startled an unexpected giggle out of Elliot.

“Cabbage really doesn’t have to smell bad.

It depends on how you cook it. And in this soup it’s more like…

a filler? It adds a good vegetable and some thickness to the soup, but the soup itself doesn’t really taste like cooked cabbage. ”

“Cooked cabbage is not bad,” Nikolai said thoughtfully, picking up his spoon. “There is good Russian food with it.” His nose wrinkled. “But America is not good at it.”

“Well I… I hope you like this,” Elliot said, trying not to fidget nervously. He picked up his own spoon, but couldn’t help watching as Nikolai brought the first spoonful to his own mouth.

Nikolai made a happy humming sound and smiled at him. “Is very good,” he said warmly, spooning up another bite as soon as he said it.

Elliot let out the breath he’d been holding and smiled tentatively back. “I’m glad you like it.”

“What it is in the soup?” Nikolai asked. “Besides cabbages and lentils.”

Elliot blinked, not expecting to be asked for details. “Oh, um…” he listed off the ingredients in between his own spoonfuls of soup, including the spices when Nikolai asked.

“See, is why I’m trust you,” Nikolai said, pointing at him with his spoon.

“You make vegetable soup, it tastes good. Meredith once hired chef, I’m thinking she last maybe three days.

She make Italian dish, but it was vegan from ‘Northern Italy’.

” Elliot could practically hear the air quotes.

“They don’t use garlic there. Did you know? ”

Elliot did, and caught himself giggling again at how absolutely offended Nikolai looked.

“What is Italian food without garlic?” Nikolai grumbled. “Not good. She’s also try feeding me vegan pizza. Vegan cheese is very bad.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Elliot said, smiling less tentatively now. He felt light . Full of warmth and butterflies. “Only real cheese in your food, got it.”

Nikolai blinked at him, looking startled for a moment before his expression settled into something closer to quiet delight. “Is good, like this.”

Elliot felt himself flush and ducked his head, bashful. “I-I’m glad you like the soup so much.”

“No,” Nikolai said, shaking his head. “I mean, yes, I’m like soup very much. But… is good to see you smile. Being happy.” He waved a hand, not seeming to notice the way Elliot’s breath caught at his words. “Even if because you think it’s funny how I’m eat bad vegan cheese.”

“Oh,” Elliot whispered, staring down at his bowl. That was twice now, that Nikolai had said—

When was the last time someone had cared about Elliot being… being happy?

“Um,” Elliot burst out, needing to—needing to say something . “It—I—”

I like your sense of humor and how you’re kind and gentle with me, even if I don’t deserve it.

I like how you genuinely seem to care, even though I don’t know why you do.

I like how you make me feel safe, when I haven’t felt that in so long.

“I promise not to feed you vegan cheese,” he said weakly. “But I-I’d be happy to make whatever you do like to eat. Do you have any favorite foods? Or things you’d like to try?”

Nikolai reached for another piece of toasted bread, frowning thoughtfully. He didn’t answer right away, and Elliot was happy to wait for him, eating more of his soup in the meantime and trying to calm his racing heart.

“Are you knowing DiBella’s?” Nikolai finally asked. “On 3rd?”

Elliot nodded, swallowing his mouthful. “Yeah.”

“They make this sandwich,” Nikolai said, dipping his bread in the remains of his soup. “Is very good. It has–what is word–black vinegar?”

Elliot was pretty sure he knew the sandwich Nikolai was talking about. “Balsamic vinaigrette?”

“Yes. Is very good,” Nikolai said. “Maybe that, if you can make it?” Then he looked hopefully up at Elliot, showing his empty bowl. “Is more?”

A thrill went up Elliot’s spine. “There’s a whole pot of it,” he said, holding out his hand for Nikolai’s bowl. I can—”

“You sit and eat,” Nikolai said firmly, pushing out of his chair. “I’m not old man, is okay for me to get my own soup.”

It really wasn’t fair, Elliot thought a little wildly, as the man went over to spoon some more soup into his bowl, that Nikolai was both so kind and funny.

He focused back on his own food instead of letting those thoughts turn over any further in his brain.

When Nikolai returned to his seat, he looked back at Elliot. “I’m think of more food.”

Elliot leaned forward, probably too eagerly. But he wanted to know. He wanted to know everything about the food that Nikolai enjoyed, so that Elliot could try to make it for him. “Yeah?”

“The last time I was in Florida we went to Cuban place. The salmon was very good and they had these… I forget the name but they are plantains, that are fried maybe?”

“Maduros,” Elliot said.

Nikolai nodded. “Yes. I like that.”

Elliot beamed at him. “What else?”