Page 54 of Pistols and Plush Toys

Later that evening, after eating, cleaning, and watching the rest of the episode of Checklists, Elliot excused himself to go get ready for bed.

Nikolai went ahead and did the same, making a walk through the house first to check doors and texting Alex at the gate for an update, before he turned out all the lights.

Nikolai went through his nighttime routine in his room slowly, his mind drifting through the memories of the evening. Elliot’s delicious food, his happy smile, his soft laughter.

It was easy, being with Elliot.

When Nikolai had first brought him here, he’d imagined the experience to be annoying at best. Nikolai had never been one to share his space.

He’d been alone since he’d moved out of his father’s house.

Even with the small amount of dating he’d done over the years, he’d never invited anyone to stay over.

Maybe he’d never felt like he could fully trust them, regardless of the background checks Meredith had done.

Now he was thinking about his house returning to silence when Elliot left. To wake up without the smell of breakfast in the air. Without any sounds of Elliot moving around in the kitchen. Without seeing his shy smile when Nikolai coaxed him out of his uncertainty…

And Nikolai hated every bit of that picture.

When Nikolai finished brushing his teeth, he found himself at Elliot’s partially-open door.

Don’t, he told himself. Leave well enough alone. You don’t need to say goodnight. You don’t need—

He knocked.

“Come in,” Elliot called.

Taking a deep breath, Nikolai pushed the door the rest of the way open.

Elliot was sitting up in bed on his phone, his plush animals tucked around him. The one bedside lamp was on, and the light was low and cozy. He looked perfectly at ease there in the bed, dressed down in a loose sleep shirt.

“Hi,” Elliot said, smiling at him as Nikolai walked in.

The fact that Elliot now looked pleased to see Nikolai, was smiling at him—

“Evening,” Nikolai said hoarsely. “Just wanted to… check in. Before bed.” Stupid.

Elliot nodded, setting his phone down. “Actually, I-I wanted to ask you something.”

“Of course,” Nikolai said, coming closer to the bed.

“Um,” Elliot started. “Well… Xander and I have been texting some.”

“Oh?” Nikolai hesitated, then went to perch on the side of the bed like he had the previous two nights. “That is good. I’m glad for you to have friends.”

Elliot sucked in a breath, but then he was beaming. “Yeah, it’s, um, it’s… it’s been really nice to reconnect.”

“I’m glad,” Nikolai said, smiling back at him. “What is your question?”

“Oh, well, um… he was asking about hanging out on Wednesday afternoon.” Elliot fiddled with the bedspread, voice getting quieter. More unsure. “Would, um, would that be okay?”

“Of course,” Nikolai said easily. “You’re not needing my permission. I will send you with Alex. Just say what time.”

“Oh,” Elliot breathed, looking up at him with gratitude. “Thank you.”

Nikolai swallowed and looked away. “We should talk also about next date. This weekend is Fall Arts Festival. I’m thinking you might like?”

When he allowed himself to glance back, it was just in time to see Elliot’s face light up. “That sounds really fun. I’ve never been.”

“We have artist table every year,” Nikolai said. “Is good business. Many different kinds of vendors.”

“I’d–I’d love to go with you,” Elliot said, wearing that achingly soft smile.

Nikolai felt his heart thud, and he dragged his eyes away again. His gaze landed on Max the bear, sitting against Elliot’s side.

“Okay, good. Then is date.” He needed to leave. He needed to give himself some space and distance. It was foolish of him to visit Elliot at night again. He moved to get up. “Goodnight.”

Elliot held out a hand, not quite touching. “I-I had one other question.”

Nikolai turned to him. “Yes?”

“I was wondering… I mean—you liked the borscht so much, but it wasn’t your grandmother’s recipe so I—I was wondering if you had any family recipes?” Elliot looked hopeful. Eager. “I’d love to make you something that was really hers, if I can.”

Nikolai opened his mouth and then closed it. He’d never thought about recipes, if his бабушка had ever written them down. After she’d passed, his father had paid to have her house cleared out. As far as Nikolai knew, her personal effects were still packed up and boxed in his father’s attic.

At the time Nikolai had secreted out the photo albums for himself, and they were of the few items he’d taken from Russia when he’d left.

“I do not know,” he said slowly. If there were recipes, they’d be in those boxes in his father’s house. It hadn’t occurred to him before that they might even exist at all. “If there are, they would be in my father’s house.” Nikolai sighed and shook his head. “Far away, in Russia.”

“Oh,” Elliot said, frowning down at his bedspread. “Right, um, sorry. It was dumb of me to ask.”

“No. No, not dumb,” Nikolai said, because it was one of the nicest things he’d ever been offered. It just wasn’t possible. “Is just that I cannot ask. My father is not man who gives things for free.”

The troubled look on Elliot’s face grew deeper. “Was it always like that with your father?”

“Like what?” Nikolai asked

“Like a transaction,” Elliot said, looking up at him.

Nikolai's fingers brushed his own pajama-clad thighs, itching for a lock pick to fiddle with.

“Yes,” he said heavily. “Is best he forget I exist. That’s what I wish for, with him.”

Elliot nodded slowly. Nikolai watched him lick his lips.

“I’ll try to make more Russian food from the recipes I can find,” Elliot said, giving him another tentative, hopeful smile. “You can tell me if it’s close?”

So many gifts Nikolai was being given. He’d cherish each one for as long as he was allowed to have them.

“Yes, okay,” Nikolai said with a small smile. “But no pressure. Is good that you try. Means very much.”

“Okay,” Elliot said, his hazel eyes so bright as he looked up at Nikolai. “I really want to–to make you food you like.”

“All food you make, I like,” Nikolai told him, throat dry. He could feel the heavy pulse of his heart, how badly he wanted to reach for Elliot. To take his hand or stroke his hair.

He couldn’t. “But now we must stop food talk, or you will not sleep.”

A laugh startled out of Elliot and his smile turned rueful. “I guess I was getting excited.”

“Maybe little bit,” Nikolai said. “But you can be more excited again in the morning. Sleep time now, yes?”

But instead of looking relaxed and ready to go to sleep, Elliot bit at his lip.

“Something is wrong?” Nikolai asked, touching his own mouth.

“I’m just—” Elliot looked down. “I’ve been having nightmares.”

Ah. Nikolai reached for Max, who was closest to him, and brought him closer to Elliot, brushing against Elliot’s cheek. “Max will keep you safe from nightmares. Apricot too, and Sheep.”

Instead of leaning in or relaxing like he had before, Elliot startled, his body stiffening. There was a small pitched sound that told Nikolai he’d overstepped.

Instantly, he pulled Max away and placed him back where he’d been before, next to Elliot.

“Sorry, I…” Elliot trailed off, like he wasn’t sure what to say.

Not that he had to say anything. He shouldn’t have to tell Nikolai that he didn’t want him here, like this.

“Is okay,” Nikolai said quickly. “I will leave you to sleep, is okay.”

Elliot still looked like he wanted to say something, but Nikolai turned away.

“Good night,” he said and beelined for the door.

Before he closed it behind him, he heard a soft, “Good night,” from Elliot.

Nikolai clenched his jaw, and instead of going to his bedroom, he walked down through the hallways of his house.

With every step, he chastised himself. He’d been foolish and careless, stepping over boundaries he knew better than to.

Elliot had been through so much and was only freshly escaped from his trauma.

His tormentor was still at large, and until Nikolai dealt with Vitale, the fear would hang over Elliot’s head.

What was Nikolai doing , letting himself into Elliot’s bedroom at night? How dare he be so forward with Elliot, when Elliot’s bruises hadn’t even yet healed? What right did Nikolai have to pick up one of his precious stuffed animals? Or worse, to want to touch Elliot, to hold him close?

He ended up in the kitchen, flicking on the light as he stalked into the room. He got halfway to the liquor cabinet before he stopped, realizing what he was doing.

And what he couldn’t do. He hadn’t had a drink since Elliot had come here, and as badly as he wanted to sink into a bottle, if he got drunk and passed out tonight, he would be useless if something happened.

Even for something as small as Elliot’s nightmares—because what if Elliot woke and needed Nikolai, and Nikolai wasn’t there?

With a snarl of frustration Nikolai turned around, heading to the refrigerator. He got out a glass and poured himself an ice cold water. He stood there in the light of the open door and drank the whole thing, letting the cold soothe the heat in the back of his throat.

In the end, it didn’t matter what Nikolai wanted or what his own feelings were. He’d started all of this, and he was going to finish it. He was going to make sure Elliot could live a long and happy life, a normal life, where he didn’t have to think about his abuser or the man who had kidnapped him.

Which meant that eventually– soon –he’d be gone from Nikolai’s life entirely.

Nikolai dropped the empty cup in the sink, turned off the light, and went to bed.