Page 81 of Pistols and Plush Toys

From where he was standing, Elliot wasn’t facing him. He was instead side-profile, dicing cubes of melon. Nikolai watched the flash of the knife, smooth and elegant. Elliot wielded it well, making easy, neat cuts.

It was almost incomprehensible that he’d ever had thoughts about Elliot using a knife for anything other than cooking. He was such a gentle, soft soul.

Nikolai watched him finish dicing the fruit and then take the knife to the sink. He rinsed and soaped and washed it with careful reverence, then dried it and returned it to the knife rack. He followed that up with cleaning the cutting board.

He looked so cozy there in the kitchen in a plain blue T-shirt and black sweatpants, moving around the space as though he’d been cooking here for years.

Except he hadn’t. His entire life had been disrupted and he’d been all but dropped into Nikolai's care. Dropped with almost nothing of his own.

Which reminded Nikolai that he really, really needed to put Meredith on that. Elliot needed things, more than just the handful of items they’d gotten him so far to get through a few days.

In fact… if Vitale had fucked off to Italy, now might be the perfect time for it. Nikolai didn’t want Meredith to simply do all of Elliot’s shopping, he wanted Elliot to be able to pick out his own things. He wanted Elliot to have control of that aspect of his life. Nikolai could send the two of them out with oneof his bodyguards—Alex, maybe. He was slightly more friendly-looking than Pyotr, which Elliot might appreciate.

As Elliot moved to set the cutting board to dry, Nikolai assessed his bruising. There was still a deep purpling around his throat and eye, and it would draw attention if he went out in public. But putting the shopping off would just leave Elliot without.

Hm.

Nikolai should have a sweater somewhere that wouldn’t swallow Elliot completely, and he could loan him a scarf as well to cover his throat. Seasonally, it was getting cold enough to justify both. He could text Meredith about something for the eye, some concealer just to tone down the vividness. He doubted Elliot would care for the attention it would bring.

The timer went off on the oven and Elliot walked to the cupboard. He retrieved two plates and took them to a muffin tin that Nikolai noticed now had been sitting on the top of the stove cooling. Elliot started plating whatever it was, and Nikolai stepped further into the kitchen to announce himself.

“Good morning,” he said. “What it is you’re making? Smells good.”

Elliot startled, but when his eyes met Nikolai's he didn’t shrink away. There was already color on his cheeks, perhaps from the heat of the oven, and it was a pretty effect. Or maybe it was the way his eyes lit up at the same time, bright and excited about what he’d made.

“It’s breakfast quiches,” Elliot said with a tentative smile. “Onion, tomato, spinach, cheese. Plus melon.”

Elliot had put two on each plate and Nikolai managed to grab the bowl with the melon before Elliot could attempt balancing it all.

“Oh, thank you,” Elliot said as he started toward the table.

“I’m have spinach?” Nikolai asked as he followed.

Elliot ducked his head bashfully as he set the plates down and took his seat. “I put it in the grocery order you let me place yesterday after lunch, I hope that’s okay.”

“Is not ‘I’m let you’ for grocery,” Nikolai said firmly as he put down the melon and took his own seat. “You are my new chef now.”

Elliot blinked wide-eyed at Nikolai in surprise. “I–what?”

Nikolai shrugged. The idea had just come to him, but he liked it. Maybe it would make Elliot feel like he had more of a sense of purpose, with an actual job to do.

“You make good food for me and you like cooking,” Nikolai said easily. “So I’m say yes, new chef.”

“But–” Elliot started and then stopped, apparently at a loss for words. “You can’t—can you just make me your new chef?”

Nikolai tapped his chin thoughtfully, enjoying the color that darkened Elliot’s cheeks even further. Yes, this was an excellent idea.

“Is very easy,” Nikolai said. “I say so, you make good food, I’m pay you. You have Meredith’s number now, but we will put grocery delivery app on your phone, so you can order anything.” The less barriers Elliot had to navigate to do what he loved to do, the better.

“I—wha—” Elliot stammered. “Nikolai–”

“Meredith will talk to you about salary,” Nikolai said, fighting to keep a straight face. “You are here, you’re cooking for me. No one should work for free, you see?”

Elliot sputtered through several more consonants that never became a word. While Elliot was working his way to a response, Nikolai picked up his fork to try the quiche.

The first bite was warm and rich on his tongue. It reminded Nikolai of a corn muffin in texture, but with all the best flavors of an omelet. He made a sound of approval as hechewed, and then popped a second bite into his mouth right after.

That seemed to focus Elliot. “Oh you… you like it?” He asked hopefully.

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