Page 51 of Pistols and Plush Toys

Nikolai had had a very good night’s sleep and woke up feeling lazy, but instead of taking his time getting up like he might have once done, he pushed himself out of bed.

Because, he knew, Elliot would be in the kitchen making breakfast.

That was worth getting out of bed for.

Nikolai had previously had chefs who’d regularly made him lunch and dinners, but he’d never had a live-in. He was quickly beginning to feel spoiled by the experience.

Or maybe it was simply knowing that it was Elliot in his kitchen, easily moving about the space. Safe and happy in Nikolai’s home, doing what he enjoyed while finally being properly compensated for it.

It certainly was making even the rough mornings less painful to get through, not that there had been too many of those lately.

Before Elliot, Nikolai often had spent his days dragging his feet into the kitchen for coffee to combat a hangover, wondering how much work he’d have to get through before he could pour himself another drink.

Now he didn’t even glance at the cabinet as he came into the kitchen.

His eyes went immediately to Elliot. Today Elliot was wearing a soft-looking cream colored sweater and a loose fit pair of jeans, and he was humming to himself as he stirred a pot on the stove that smelled warmly of cinnamon. He looked—

He looked like he belonged there. In Nikolai’s kitchen. In Nikolai’s home.

In Nikolai’s life.

“Morning,” he said, his voice still rough with sleep.

Elliot startled at the greeting, tensing and almost dropping the wooden spoon he’d been stirring the pot with.

“M-morning,” Elliot said, glancing at him and then quickly turning back to the pot.

Nikolai’s brow furrowed. He was well used to Elliot’s startle reflex, but it had started to ease over the last several days as Elliot had gotten more comfortable.

Had something happened?

He moved through the kitchen toward the coffee machine, keeping Elliot in his peripheral. Once he started the coffee maker, Nikolai turned to lean back against the counter. “What we are having for breakfast?”

Elliot glanced at him again, and Nikolai could now see spots of color high on his cheeks.

Why?

“Um, strawberries and cream oatmeal,” Elliot said, the enthusiasm he normally had for food was sorely missing. He still wouldn’t look at Nikolai directly.

What in the world was wrong?

“I’m, um, I’m almost done if you want to take a seat at the table.”

When the coffee machine delivered him a fresh cup, Nikolai took it to the table, turning the problem over in his mind. There were a lot of reasons Elliot might still feel skittish, but he’d tensed when Nikolai had come in the room, and was continuing not to look at him. Had Nikolai done something?

It had to have been recent—Elliot was perfectly comfortable with him last night—

Last night. Was Elliot upset because of the way Nikolai had come into his room? Nikolai had touched Sheep—had used Sheep to touch Elliot. He’d done it before and he’d thought it would be okay, but…

But maybe Elliot felt uncomfortable now about what Nikolai had done.

Nikolai sipped his coffee and watched as Elliot spooned the oatmeal into two bowls, covering it with freshly diced strawberries and a drizzle of honey.

Nikolai wasn’t exactly a fan of oatmeal because it always tasted like cardboard, but he was eager to try Elliot’s version.

Elliot hadn’t been cooking for Nikolai for all that long yet, but already Nikolai expected that whatever Elliot served him would be tasty.

Elliot set Nikolai’s bowl down in front of him and then took his own seat with his own bowl. Nikolai picked up his spoon at once.

Instead of cardboard, the oatmeal was delicious. Sweet from the strawberries and vanilla and honey. The brightness of fresh fruit meshed incredibly well with the sweetness of the honey.

“Mmm, is good,” Nikolai said when he finished his bite. “Is surprising. I’m have oatmeal before, tastes like cardboard. This much better.”

Elliot had been watching him, because he always looked to see how Nikolai enjoyed the first bite, but now his gaze skittered away.

“I have best chef,” Nikolai continued, smiling at him. Would that help set Elliot more at ease? “Make even cardboard tasty.”

“I-I’m glad you like it,” Elliot said, pinkening further. He ducked his head, focusing on his bowl.

Nikolai tilted his head and did his best to hide his frown. Was it something Nikolai had done? Had he overstepped last night, in Elliot’s room?

He hadn’t meant to. He’d just wanted to—to see Elliot one more time before he turned in. To wish him good night.

That first night, when Elliot had had his nightmare, Nikolai had comforted him with Max and Sheep and it had been okay. Last night…

Last night Elliot had let him come in, and let Nikolai see him dressed down and cozy with his stuffed toys. Let Nikolai see him vulnerable and soft and so beautiful, and Nikolai had wanted—

Nikolai had wanted to hold him.

But he wasn’t allowed to do that. He’d furiously told himself that the night of Elliot’s nightmare, when Elliot had flinched from his touch. He’d reminded himself of that last night as well, for the same reason. So he’d used Sheep.

Maybe… maybe that was no longer okay?

Nikolai took several bites of oatmeal and watched as Elliot moved his spoon around his bowl, eating one tiny bite for Nikolai’s three. At least he was eating, if slowly. So he wasn’t so anxious and nervous that he felt sick. That was something.

He could still eat in Nikolai’s presence.

But the silence that reigned was awkward. Nikolai wasn’t sure if Elliot would welcome conversation from him. And he didn’t want to distract Elliot from eating by making him more upset.

So instead Nikolai ate his oatmeal and just observed Elliot. He was still bruised, the dark purple starting to fade into more of a sickly green. A reminder that he was barely out of Vitale’s clutches.

Certainly Nikolai could stand to not make Elliot even more uncomfortable.

He took another bite of breakfast, savoring it, but though he tried to keep his eyes off Elliot, they kept moving back of their own accord. Back to the bruising.

It still looked painful and tender. Nikolai wondered now how the one on Elliot’s torso was doing.

“Do you need more cream for your bruising?” Nikolai asked. That was probably safe, right?

Elliot looked up from his bowl. “Oh, um, I-I guess so? I’m almost through with the tube.”

Nikolai nodded. “I will get more.”

“Thank you,” Elliot said quietly.

“How does it feel?” Nikolai asked. “Still hurts?”

“Oh um, it’s fine,” Elliot said. “I can’t really sleep on my right side, but it’s, um, getting better.”

Couldn’t sleep on his right side? Nikolai didn’t like the sound of that.

“Would you show Sheep?” Nikolai asked tentatively. It had worked the last time, and Elliot had even let Nikolai put the cream on him. But was Sheep off limits now? “After breakfast? If it is okay?”

The last time Elliot had pinked up and been vaguely uncertain about the offer, but this time his face went beet red and he coughed around a rough swallow of oatmeal.

“Is… no good?” Nikolai asked, concerned and crushed at Elliot’s reaction. He shoved the feelings down, because he didn’t have any right to them. If Elliot didn’t want to show him–show Sheep–his hurts, he didn’t have to.

Clearly Nikolai had done wrong by him last night. The thought was acid in his throat.

But Elliot was shaking his head as he reached for his glass of water.

“No,” he said in a rush once he’d had several sips. His voice was raspy from coughing. “No I–I’ll show you.”

“You are not having to,” Nikolai said, trying to assure him. “Is okay. I’m not wanting to… make you uncomfortable.”

“No, I’m–I’m not uncomfortable,” Elliot said. “Sorry. I was just surprised. I–um. No one’s ever–” Elliot’s eyes were down, his fingers fiddling with the spoon. “I just… I’ve never had anyone… care. Especially with… with something like Sheep.”

Ah.

Nikolai could make an easy guess about how Vitale might have treated Elliot’s love of stuffed animals.

“I promise I will not hurt you,” Nikolai said softly. “Or Sheep. Or Apricot or Max. I’m only wanting to help. And I’m wanting that you’re not in pain.”

“No, I-I know,” Elliot said. “Um, we can. After breakfast? S-Sheep could check.”

Elliot was still red, still shy the way he spoke those words, but Nikolai wanted to trust in them. He wanted to trust that Elliot would only agree to this if he were truly okay with it.

And Nikolai had gotten so much better at interpreting Elliot’s mannerisms and body language. Sometimes Elliot said yes when he really meant no, or tried to downplay how uncomfortable he was feeling saying things were “fine” but—but Nikolai didn’t think this was one of those times.

“Okay,” Nikolai said as he picked up a spoon. “But right now I eat very good breakfast my chef make. Best chef.”

That got the edges of Elliot’s mouth tilting up, and soon after he picked his spoon back up again.

“I’m glad you like it,” Elliot said with a shy but much more comfortable smile, before he started to eat.

They finished breakfast in silence, but this one was companionable instead of awkward. Nikolai helped Elliot tidy up the kitchen before they went back to Elliot’s room.

Elliot took a seat on his bed, plucking Sheep up from where it was lying next to the pillow before offering him to Nikolai as he sat down beside him.

Nikolai opened his mouth one last time, just to ask if Elliot was sure, that he didn’t have to do this if he didn’t want to, but Elliot was already reaching for the hem of his sweater and pulling it up.

Seeing all Elliot’s bruised skin again was harder than Nikolai imagined it to be. Even expecting it, he still felt fury flicker back to life.

“See?” Elliot said, fiddling with a sleeve of his sweater. “It’s healing better. I’m okay.”