Page 30 of Pistols and Plush Toys

“Which is best sauce?” Nikolai asked as he held up a small clear bag of included sauces.

“The salsa verde,” Elliot said, with only minimal hesitation. Nikolai said he liked spicy food and he wanted to try this. If he was going to be upset with Elliot if he didn’t like breakfast, Elliot recommending a sauce wouldn’t change that. “The green one.”

Nikolai inclined his head and took that one out, then selected another breakfast bowl and one of the burritos.

Elliot found himself sneaking glances as Nikolai opened his bowl, hungry but too antsy to take a bite. He needed to know how Nikolai reacted to the food before Elliot could eat any himself. He just… he just needed to know if he should be expecting those blue eyes to narrow in anger, that strong jaw to clench as Nikolai shoved away from the table and strode over to where Elliot was sitting—

Nikolai was wearing several large gold rings on each hand, Elliot noted distantly as Nikolai loaded up a bite with the verdesauce. A couple were set with stones. How much would that hurt if…?

He held his breath as Nikolai took a bite, his stomach cramping for reasons unrelated to hunger.

Nikolai groaned in audible appreciation as he chewed.

“Is very good,” he said after he’d swallowed. “Good flavor, and sauce is very much yes, good choice.” He dove back in for another bite.

It was such a small comment, but Elliot felt it like a full body hug. It filled him in a way he’d forgotten about. It had been years since he’d been able to recommend food to anyone other than Mattia.

It felt good to be told he’d done a good job.

He’d started cooking because helovedthat feeling, the ability to bring someone joy and satiation through food. He loved creating something nourishing with his hands. Being able to make someone’s day better with food.

Elliot let out the breath he’d been holding and picked up his fork. The flavors exploded on his tongue, and he closed his eyes to savor them, chewing slowly to give his stomach time to get used to eating. He knew he needed to be eating more, but it was hard when everything here felt so precarious. When he didn’t know the rules and how to appease the person in power. When he kept expecting the worst anytime he misstepped.

Although…

His eyes drifted back up to Nikolai, who had eaten half his breakfast bowl in the time Elliot had taken three bites, and was now unwrapping the burrito. Nikolai looked less severe like this, seated at the table across from Elliot and enjoying his food. His expression was open and appreciative, drawing attention to how handsome the man was now that Elliot wasn’t looking at him through a lens washed with pure terror.

Maybe… maybe it wasn’t as perilous here as he’d first assumed. Nikolai kept him locked up, sure, but he wasn’t mean. Wasn’t cruel. He didn’t yank Elliot around or pull his hair or call him names, and from the very start he’d assured Elliot that he wouldn’t be hurt as long as Elliot cooperated.

Elliot had certainly acted in a way that didn’t look very much like cooperating, crying altogether too many tears and being much, much too loud. But even with all that, Nikolai hadn’t raised his hand to Elliot even once. Instead, he had bandaged Elliot’s roughened wrists and checked on how they were healing every night after Elliot’s shower. He’d let Elliot shower in relative privacy. He’d let Elliot pick what food they got to eat.

He’d definitely caught sight of Apricot on more than one occasion, and hadn’t said a word about it.

Elliot knew that if he did get to go home there’d be hell to pay, but while he was here… maybe he could at least try to not live every moment like Nikolai was going to kill him.

Maybe Nikolai would, if Mattia made him angry enough. If Mattia didn’t acquiesce to whatever it was Nikolai wanted, Nikolai would want Elliot out of his hair eventually. But until then, Nikolai was treating him with relative kindness. And Elliot was bone-weary of the fear.

“I used to work at Red Chili,” he said, feeling bold.

Nikolai's mouth was full, but he raised an eyebrow as if to say,go on.

Elliot looked back down to his bowl, pushing his fork through the food idly. “It was only like two months. I was filling in for someone who was out. I was in school at the time so I couldn’t take a full-time position anyway. It’s how I know of it though. I know they make good stuff.”

Nikolai had finished his mouthful and was now nodding. “You say you were hopping while in training. So you have plenty of recommendations for us, yes?”

Elliot’s cheeks heated. “Um, I guess. If you want.”

“Yes,” Nikolai said. “This very good. And has vegetables. Meredith would approve.”

That twinged again at Elliot’s curiosity. “You said she wants you on a diet, but you… you look healthy.” As he said it, he felt his face flush even more. He wasn’tlooking, but he’d have to be blind to not notice Nikolai's trim waistline or bulging muscles. It was clear he took a certain amount of care of himself.

“Yes,” Nikolai nodded. “Is for health. My bloodwork came back not so good and now Meredith, she say,Nikolai you over forty, you cannot have mozzarella sticks for dinner.”

He sighed dramatically and Elliot bit his lip on the laugh. He noticed the twinge of pain and let his lip go. Hopefully Nikolai hadn’t noticed the slip. “You, um, you like fried foods?”

“Yes,” Nikolai said seriously. “French fries are my true love.”

Elliot burst out with a startled laugh this time before he could keep it in.

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