Page 60 of Pistols and Plush Toys

Elliot shuffled his feet, but he was smiling. “You’re welcome.” The bruising on his face was almost gone now, and Nikolai was glad to see it fading away. Elliot had such beautiful eyes, such a sweet smile. Neither should ever be marred by bruising, the way Vitale had done.

Nikolai took another sip of coffee. He was looking forward to trying the apple tart.

“Are you… feeling okay today?” Elliot asked.

“Yes,” Nikolai assured him. “Just was late night. But is okay. Better now with coffee and breakfast.” Nikolai considered telling Elliot about the sighting, the pictures, but decided not to for the moment. Nothing was happening yet, and so there was no point in worrying Elliot unnecessarily.

“I’m glad I could help,” Elliot said, again with that same sweet smile.

He was too good. It made Nikolai’s insides ache. He wanted—

Stop, he told himself sternly. Mattia Vitale was going to come back, Nikolai would take care of him, and then all of this would end. Without danger hanging over him like a shroud, Elliot would be able to leave Nikolai behind. He could go on and live the rest of his life.

He wasn’t Nikolai’s to keep.

Nikolai’s phone pinged with another message coming in and Elliot’s eyes flickered to it.

“Well, I’ll leave you to work.” Elliot said, starting to shuffle back out of the room.

“Thank you for breakfast,” Nikolai said.

“You’re welcome,” Elliot said, sounding happy. Like simply being thanked had brightened his day.

Elliot left, closing the door behind him, and Nikolai got to work.

***

After work and the shooting range, Nikolai was ready to be home. The day had been a slog with how tired he had been, and only the judicious use of coffee had helped him see it through.

But once he came home, toeing off his shoes and dropping his keys by the door, he smiled, because he could smell Elliot cooking.

Nikolai followed the sounds and smells to the kitchen and found Elliot there feeding flat strips of dough into the pasta cutter.

He had his light blue sweater rolled up to his elbows, and there was flour on his forearms and a bit smeared across one of his cheeks.

It was an incredibly charming picture, and Nikolai felt the day’s stresses start to roll off him.

Elliot looked up when Nikolai came in. “You’re back,” he said, grinning.

“Yes,” Nikolai said, coming further in to lean against a counter. “You are making pasta?”

“Figured I’d give the machine a try,” Elliot said. He finished cranking the noodles through and then scooped them into a nearby bowl. Then he picked up another sheet of dough to repeat the process.

Nikolai’s eyes drifted to the stovetop where there were two pots, one covered and simmering with what Nikolai would guess was a tomato based sauce from the smell in the kitchen. The other was a pot of boiling water.

Dinner at home, made from scratch.

There was something about the way Elliot thought through his meals, or maybe the way he enjoyed them so much, that felt special. Like he was making them for Nikolai , not because Nikolai was a paycheck.

It made Nikolai feel helplessly fond all of a sudden, watching Elliot roll pasta through the cutter.

There was an ease in the way he moved about the kitchen now, a softness to his features.

He hadn’t even jumped when he’d realized Nikolai was in the room.

He no longer had that haunted, weighed down look to him.

Just in time for Vitale to be coming back.

But if they could take care of it, then Elliot could be free soon. Safe enough to build a new future for himself. Safe enough to leave Nikolai and all this behind.

“I know will be very good,” Nikolai said. “Do I have time for shower?” He’d cleaned himself with a lead wipe when leaving the range, but he wanted to rinse off the day in its entirely.

“Oh, yeah, of course,” Elliot said, nodding. “This’ll be another fifteen minutes or so.”

“Be back soon,” Nikolai said and left the room.

Once in his walk-in closet, he pulled off his watch and emptied his pockets of his wallet and his lock picks. His thoughts drifted back to Elliot.

Since it seemed that Vitale was taking steps to return to the states…

Well. There was no need to go out on any more dates with Elliot, was there? They didn’t need to pretend anymore. They didn’t need to be seen together anymore.

Nikolai frowned and headed to his bathroom, turning the water on. But… what about the Fall Festival? It was tomorrow, and Elliot had seemed so excited to go.

The thought of canceling made Nikolai’s chest ache. He didn’t… he didn’t want to.

He’d been really looking forward to tomorrow, he realized all at once. And it was suddenly clear how much the idea of going to the festival with Elliot had been buoying him through the week.

Every time he was with Elliot, Nikolai had a good time.

It took his mind off of the work, of all of the grisly business he had to handle sometimes.

Elliot was a joy to be around, and it was nice to take him out, to share meals they’d both be surprised by.

To learn all the little details that Elliot knew about food and its preparation and to make him laugh with Nikolai’s own stories.

Nikolai loved seeing Elliot smile.

Did he have to cancel the outing?

He leaned his head back into the water, reaching blindly for the bottle of shampoo.

If Elliot would be leaving soon, maybe… maybe Nikolai could let himself have this one last thing? One last outing together, before Nikolai went back to being cold and lonely, rattling around by himself in his big, empty house.

Meredith and Gerard might question him about it, but from the photos, it was unlikely Vitale would be on a flight by tomorrow. So going to the Fall Festival with Elliot would be self-indulgent certainly, but not unsafe.

He scrubbed his hair clean with a bit more force than necessary, frustrated with himself for wanting it at all. It was a bad idea to give himself this one last thing. It wouldn’t help him when Elliot inevitably left.

But he didn’t want to give up the time with Elliot. Not until he had to.

Nikolai finished the rest of his shower quickly and then turned off the water, toweling himself off until his hair didn’t drip as he tried to push those more morose thoughts away.

Going to the Fall Festival was on Nikolai’s calendar and Elliot was looking forward to it. It didn’t have to be more than that. They’d go, have a good time, and Nikolai would hopefully get to see Elliot smile.

And after that…?

Back in his closet, Nikolai pulled on a fresh pair of clothes. Not quite pajamas but far less formal than what he wore during work hours. He plucked up his phone and checked in on reflex.

There was a notification of messages in the secured group chat.

His heartbeat picked up as he clicked over and then tapped the first message to reveal it and start the deletion timer.

Gerard: Got word that he’s trying to charter a plane.

Nikolai clicked the next message, then the next, reading through the string that had come in while he’d been in the shower.

Meredith: Trying?

Gerard: Apparently he got cut off from everyone but mommy and daddy, and they’re not giving him enough allowance to fly back in style.

Meredith: That’s hilarious.

Gerard: Yeah. But don’t know how long he’ll try to fly private before he slums it and books a first class ticket back.

Meredith: Even first class generally frowns upon all your checked luggage being full of assault rifles.

Gerard: Hah!

Gerard: I guess let’s keep an eye out, eh? For whatever he tries to do next.

Gerard: At least it looks like our plan worked, eh Kolya?

Nikolai should respond, but a glance at the time told him he’d already taken too long. Dinner was probably ready, and he didn’t want to keep Elliot waiting.

He shoved his phone back in his pocket and strode from his room, heading to the kitchen.

Well, at least he knew for certain that Vitale wouldn’t be here by tomorrow.

“Oh hey, right on time,” Elliot said when Nikolai got to the kitchen. The pasta had been plated, sauced, and sprinkled with cheese.

“Looks good,” Nikolai said as he took his seat.

Elliot smiled and took his own. “Thank you, I hope you like it. This is a recipe from Pucci’s, downtown.”

“Another place you worked?” Nikolai asked.

“Yeah, for like two weeks.” Elliot laughed, a bright tinkling thing. “But long enough to learn how to make their pasta.”

“Oh, is secret recipe?” Nikolai teased as he picked up his fork. It smelled delicious, and lunch felt like it had been ages ago.

“Not so much for the pasta itself, but the sauce, yeah!” Elliot wore that happy, enthusiastic look he always did when he talked about food.

“They always added some miso, and then if you’re having it for dinner, you have to make sure to start the sauce around noon to let it simmer together as long as possible. ”

“Miso? In Italian?” Nikolai nodded seriously. “Is very different, so I must try.”

Elliot giggled behind his hand. “Please do! And let me know if you like it. I don’t think I could go back, personally.”

Nikolai felt a smile on his own lips. It was only a few weeks ago that Elliot was so scared and anxious that he could barely talk or eat.

He’d been so fearful every moment of doing the wrong thing and making Nikolai mad.

Now he was happily chatting, even proud of himself for what he’d made.

It filled Nikolai with pleasure to see it.

He twirled some pasta on his fork and took a bite.

And like every one of Elliot’s dishes, it was delicious .

Nikolai groaned in approval as he chewed. If he hadn’t been told it was miso, he wouldn’t have known what the flavor was, the savory saltiness on his tongue. But Elliot was right, it really made a difference. Nikolai would have no issue with them never going back.

He said as much when he finished the first bite, and Elliot beamed before he picked up his own fork.

As they ate and Elliot talked more about his time at Pucci’s in between taking quick, neat bites of pasta, Nikolai savored both the food and the company.

He’d never had this with anyone else, and he couldn’t imagine having it in the future.

Being with Elliot, talking with Elliot—it was easy. It was easy and nourishing.

As dinner wound down, he couldn’t help thinking again about how much he’d miss this.

Miss Elliot. Even if Elliot stayed on for a little while as Nikolai’s chef, it wouldn’t be the same as sitting down to share meals with him.

Wouldn’t be the same as telling Elliot jokes to make him smile, or watching Checklists with him, or wishing him good night at the end of the day.

And eventually Elliot would go elsewhere. Nikolai hadn’t yet asked Elliot what his long-term ambitions were, and now he wondered. To have his own restaurant someday? Someone as skilled and passionate as Elliot certainly could do so.

Then Nikolai would just be another footnote in Elliot’s history.

When Elliot was gone, Nikolai already knew he’d be coming back to these memories again and again. Caressing them like one did an old, grainy photograph of a lost love.

—which was a thought he should definitely not be having.

Sentimental fool, he growled to himself. He should focus on the here and now. Focus on Elliot while Nikolai still had him in his life.

“Do you mind if I take a quick shower before we watch our show?” Elliot asked, once they’d cleaned up and put away dinner. He grinned at Nikolai, looking relaxed and happy. It was how he should always look. “I just am pretty sure I have tomato paste in my hair.”

“Yes, okay,” Nikolai said. “I will choose good episode to watch.”

“Okay!” Elliot turned. “Be right back!”

Once Elliot had left the kitchen, Nikolai found himself wandering back over to the cabinets that held his bottles.

He wanted a drink. Could picture himself pulling a bottle down and pouring a few fingers. Throwing it back to ease the ache in his chest.

Then disgust reared up in its place. All he could think of was Elliot coming back to Nikolai after his shower, excited to watch another episode of Checklists, and catching Nikolai doing it. The confusion he’d have as to why Nikolai was sneaking around drinking.

Did Elliot have bad memories of men drinking? Had Vitale had a taste for alcohol? Had he gotten drunk and–and–

Nikolai certainly couldn’t rule that out. The idea that he could be included in the same narrative only made him more disgusted with himself.

No. Nikolai wanted to be a man worth knowing. Worth being known by Elliot. Even if very soon Elliot didn't need him, couldn’t want to keep him… Nikolai still wanted to be worth being known.

Maybe… maybe they could be casual friends or acquaintances in the future. Nikolai would take what he could get.

Either way, if he wanted to be worth Elliot, Nikolai couldn’t drown his sorrows in a bottle. Elliot deserved better out of the people he surrounded himself with.

Nikolai poured himself a tall, cold glass of water instead and took it and himself to the living room. He turned on the TV and pulled up Checklists and resolved that he would stop dreaming of something he couldn’t have.