Page 3 of Pistols and Plush Toys

Elliot got the eggs and butter and cream from the fridge. There was still fresh bread from yesterday, so he grabbed that and brought it all to the counter.

The last few times Mattia had been here for breakfast, he’d made sweet crêpes or French toast or parfaits. Today, Elliot thought he would make a savory meal. Mattia liked variety in his diet.

Elliot turned the oven on and then dug around in the cabinets to find the set of ramekins he’d gotten as a gift from Mattia the first month he’d moved in. Everything had been good back then. Easy. He remembered being in this kitchen those first few weeks—Mattia kissing him, teasing him, asking him helpful questions about what he would need to cook for them.

Elliot had assured him that he didn’t need anything fancy, but Mattia wouldn’t hear it. He wanted Elliot to be comfortable here. He wanted Elliot to have anything he wanted, the best of the best.

In the end, he’d gotten his way. Mattia always got his way. Elliot had blushed as Mattia placed a ridiculous order from a fancy kitchenware company just for him. It had come with appliances and dishware and tools Elliot had only previously had access to in culinary school.

He’d been so happy then, so flattered by the attention and the gifts.

The same ramekins now felt different in his hands. They were another thing that reminded him of all the ways he was coming up short now. Mattia had done so much for him, given him so much, and what was he giving in return?

Annoyance mostly.

Elliot shook off the thoughts and got to work.

The oeufs cocotte came together quickly. It was a simple dish, but he would dress it up with some green onions and the leftover goat cheese in the fridge. He mixed the eggs and cream into the ramekins and then when the oven beeped, slid them into the oven on a cookie sheet.

While those were cooking, he sliced up the bread.

Elliot glanced at the clock over the stove. He’d heard no sound from upstairs, no indication that Mattia was waking up. Was this going to be a time that Mattia didn’t have to go to work? Mattia would be annoyed he’d wasted food. The egg wouldn’t be as good cold, they wouldn’t reheat as nicely.

He should’ve thought of that. He should’ve made a more temperature stable breakfast.

Stupid.

Just as the timer went off on the eggs, he heard the open and shut of a door from upstairs. Relief hit Elliot like a tidal wave, and he placed the pan with the ramekins onto the stovetop quickly.

The sliced bread went into the stove next for a quick toasting. Then Elliot turned and started retrieving plates to set the table.

Against all odds, breakfast panned out. He was just finishing bringing everything to the table when Mattia appeared.

“Hey babe,” Mattia said as he came up to the table. Elliot turned dutifully for a kiss, Mattia's fingers sliding around the nape of his neck and squeezing tight as he pulled Elliot in. There was so much familiarity in the gesture, so much love andaffection. At least that was what Mattia said it was when he kissed Elliot so roughly it made his lips hurt.

The tension, instead of settling, ratcheted back up inside him.

If Mattia noticed, he didn’t say. He pulled back after the kiss, but kept his hand on Ellliot’s hips. His gaze flicked to the table, taking in the food.

“You made breakfast.” He nodded in approval and then the hands slid away.

Elliot took a breath to steady himself. “Yeah. It's oeufs cocotte. I thought you might like something savory this morning?”

If he hadn't been watching so closely, he would have missed the shift. Mattia had turned toward the table, but his eyes seemed to take it all in better this time, to zero in on the little ramekins.

“Oh, the runny egg thing. You really like this one, huh?” The tone was still light, but less approving than before. His chest squeezed.

“Oh. Um. I thought–if you don’t like it I can make something different.”

Mattia sat and reached for one of the slices of toast and jam. “No, no. You already went through all the effort. It’s… fine. I can eat a weird runny egg, I guess.”

Elliot dropped down into his own seat before his legs could give out. His heart was pounding, the shame crunching down his insides. Fuck, he’d thought Mattia liked this one. He cast his mind back to the few times he’d made this before, but couldn’t recall Mattia hating it.

Clearly he had though. Clearly he’d given some indication, and Elliot hadn’t picked up on it. Fuck.Why was he so bad at this?

If he’d been hungry, his appetite now had all but abandoned him. Still, Elliot reached for the spoon and let his body work on autopilot. He knew from experience that insisting on making Mattia a different meal would only make things worse. Sulking about his own failures would also make things worse. The only option was to just get through it and not make the same mistake again.

Mentally, Elliot crossed off oeufs cocotte from the breakfast menu. It was actually one of Elliot’s favorite dishes, Mattia had clocked him correctly, but it wasn’t worth making Mattia suffer through it.

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