Page 31 of Pistols and Plush Toys

“You think something is funny?” Nikolai demanded, but he was—he was smiling. Not a large one, just a quirk of his lips, but it was warm somehow, without even a hint of meanness. “Is no joke. I cannot have husband so I’m say, is fine, French fries can have my love.”

“You know…” Elliot started cautiously as the wheels in his head started to turn. “You could try something like sweet potato fries instead. They’re more nutrient dense, and if you bake them–”

“Sweet potatoes?” Nikolai wrinkled his nose, and Elliot felt his own lips twitch again in amusement. He’d seen that very same reaction in children before winning them over to his side.

“You might like them the way I make them.” He said it too confidently, before he remembered his recent track record of making food for people.Mattia. Still, he pushed forward. “They’re, um, baked. A-and seasoned with garlic parmesan and an aïoli dipping sauce.”

Nikolai hummed, tilting his head as if considering it. “If you’re write down recipe, I’m will get ingredients and will try your garlic sweet potatoes.”

The fork that Elliot had been playing with slipped from his fingers. “You want me to cook?”

Nikolai shrugged. “That is something you like, yes? You do not have to, here. I can order food. But… it is boring here, yes? I–” then for some reason Nikolai looked away. “I am not thinking you will be here so long. Your room is boring. If you like cooking, you cook.”

Elliot’s lips parted. He hadn’t expected Nikolai to notice or care that Elliot was bored alone in his room. He definitely hadn’t expected that he’d be allowed to cook while here.

But he couldn’t pass up the chance.

“Okay,” he breathed, afraid to say more and look too eager.

“Yes?” Nikolai eyed him. “You would like?”

“I would,” Elliot said uncertainly.

“Good.” Nikolai sat back in his seat, picking up his burrito again. “I will get you pen and paper, and you can write down ingredients.”

As Nikolai went back to his meal, Elliot found himself picking up his own fork again. Something warm and exciting was blooming inside him at the prospect of being allowed to cook while here. Being allowed to cook for Nikolai, who seemed genuinely interested in trying what Elliot made.

And if Nikolai didn’t like it… Elliot didn’t think Nikolai would react with anger.

He managed to eat at least half of his breakfast bowl before his shrunken stomach protested and he stopped.

When Nikolai took him back to the room, Elliot felt better than he had since he’d arrived. He wasn’t starving, he wasn’t sick, he wasn’t weak and shaky and terrified.

He couldbreathe.

Minutes after Nikolai locked him in, there was a knock on the door.

“Um, come in,” Elliot said.

Nikolai opened the door. He was holding a pad of paper and a ballpoint pen.

“I’m will give these you,” Nikolai said, walking into the room. “But you’re promising not to stab anyone. If you try, no pen, no cooking, and bad time for you. Understand?”

Elliot frowned, eyes darting from the pen and paper to Nikolai’s serious expression. “Stab someone?”

There was a beat, then Nikolai's lips quirked up. “The pen, you do not use as weapon. Understand?”

Elliot flushed all over when it clicked in his head. “O-oh. Oh. Right. Um, I promise I won’t stab anyone.” It felt ridiculous to say, because it hadn’t even occurred to him.

But it had occurred to Nikolai. That was probably why this room was stripped bare of anything. Nikolai existed in a world where that could happen.

Hadhappened?

Nikolai hummed, a warmth in his blue eyes. “I am suddenly more certain you would not.”

Elliot ducked his head, strangely embarrassed, and held out his hands. Nikolai deposited the pen and pad of paper into them and then stepped back out of the room, closing and locking the door once more.

Elliot took both to the bed and sat.

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