Page 73 of Pistols and Plush Toys

“Would you take off your shirt so ???? can help you?” Sheep was still in his hand, and he offered it, touching gently to Elliot’s hand, brushing the fur back across his knuckles.

Elliot took a big breath, and then nodded. His hands were clumsy as he pulled up the hem of his shirt again, but he didn’t seem afraid. Uncertain maybe, but not afraid.

The shirt came up and off, and then Nikolai got a look at the whole of him. Although the bruising along his side was the worst of it, it wasn’t, in fact, all of his injuries. On the other side Elliot had what looked like a rug burn, a light abrasion along the slope of his side that became worse at the hard point of his hip bone. There was also a small scrape at his rib cage. Both were minor in comparison to the bruising, but they spoke of someone who’d been attacked while he’d been on the ground.

If Vitale hadn’t already sealed his fate with the ring of bruises around Elliot’s slim neck, this would have done it. These injuries weren’t ones you got in a fair fight. They were the kind you got on the ground, cowering, when someone wouldn’t stop hurting you.

Nikolai had to swallow a snarl. Had to compartmentalize the rage that wanted to broil up inside him. He had the sheep in hand, so he had to be gentle. This moment was only for softness. For care.

Nikolai touched the sheep’s nose to Elliot’s hand again. He traced his long fingers, the knobs of his knuckles and then up to the wrist. He kept his movements slow, unhurried, as he traced up Elliot’s forearm, and heard a small whoosh of breath as he moved the sheep up to his shoulder.

There he had the stuffed animal stop and peck a soft plush kiss over one of the fingerprint bruises. It startled him that it felt natural to do so, but he didn’t question it. This moment was for Elliot. For showing him that he deserved care.

He let the sheep kiss across Elliot’s collarbone and then down the center of his chest toward the bruised area.

Nikolai watched Elliot’s stomach flex, the muscles tensing and releasing as he did so. Without his shirt, Nikolai could see even more clearly how thin he truly was, the sharp points of his ribs and collarbone sticking out more than would be healthy.

He hated that a man who loved food so much should be so thin. So underfed. There seemed to be something unspeakably cruel about that.

He wanted tofixit.

When Nikolai got to the bruise, he had the sheep trace the shape of it again, gently and carefully, but with a firm enough touch that it wouldn’t tickle. It was an ugly purple all along the center, fading out to a mottled blue at the edges. Not yet old enough to start to yellow. Sheep went over every inch of it, his soft fur brushing the skin as if just that could heal it.

When he’d covered the entire area, he set Sheep down in Elliot’s lap and uncapped the cream.

With one careful hand he started applying, starting at the top of the bruise and working his way down. He was generous with it, applying a thick top layer to the skin without working it in too much. He didn’t want to put pressure on what undoubtedly hurt.

When all of the bruise had been covered, Nikolai set the cream aside and picked up the sheep again. Elliot was watching him, expression somewhere between uncertainty and disbelief.

His eyes still had a glossy wetness, but no more tears had fallen. The shaking had gone completely, and now he was breathing slower, in deep whooshing breaths.

Nikolai pressed the nose of the sheep to the center of Elliot’s sternum, as though pressing a kiss there. “Very good,” Nikolai said. “Thank you for letting ???? help.”

Elliot let out a hitched sound, and his hands finally moved, coming up to curl his arms around the stuffed animal. At the same time Nikolai let go, retreating as Elliot hugged the sheep.

There was a flush to his cheeks that now extended down to his chest. Nikolai's eyes lingered before he realized what he was doing. He averted his gaze, and made himself stand, picking up the cream and setting it on the bedside table.

“When you are ready, breakfast is in kitchen,” Nikolai said. The words felt clumsy. He felt clumsy. What had he just…?

Then his eyes found Elliot’s again. He looked… open. Vulnerable.

But so very trusting. It pierced Nikolai straight through his chest.

“Okay,” Elliot said quietly. He licked his lips, finger idly brushing the top of the sheep’s head, rubbing the soft fur with the pad of his finger. “Thank you.”

Nikolai bobbed his head. “You are welcome,” he said, and then made himself turn and walk out.

He needed a moment. Several moments.

He needed to think about what he’d done, and if it was okay.

And if he was going to do it again.

Nikolai closed the door softly behind himself, unable to shake the image of Elliot sitting there on the bed. Trusting Nikolai to take care of him. To be soft with him.

Soft as Nikolai had never been allowed to be.

It felt as though something inside Nikolai that he’d long thought dead had come back to life.

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