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Nikolai does not wake up next to his partner. He instead wakes practically swaddled in blankets, having sleep-spun a cocoon of warmth around himself after Kaz’s early departure from the bed.
He also does not wake up to the smell of coffee. Instead, there’s the slight burning smell that tells him for the fourth morning in a row that they really need to clean the crumb tray of the toaster.
He yawns and begins the process of disentangling himself from the sheets. He’s never entirely sure how he manages to practically straightjacket himself into the bedclothes every morning, and part of him thinks it’s a joke Kaz is playing on him.
By the time he's finally kicked away the last of the entrapping linens, he's awake enough to feel the gnawing pit in his stomach. With a last glare at the heap of blankets now sitting lumpily in the centre of the bed, Nikolai heaves himself out of bed. Which would be less of an ordeal if not for the memory foam mattress topper he'd convinced Kaz to invest in.
Soon enough, though, he's standing and stretching, feeling the hem of his pajama shirt ride up and expose his bare skin to the cool air of the bedroom. He stretches up until he can no longer stand the cold on his midriff, then collapses down to touch his toes, digging his fingers into the plush carpet.
By the time he straightens, he can hear the coffee machine percolating from down the hall. He smiles to himself as he heads to the bathroom.
When Nikolai at last opens the bedroom door, it's to the aroma of coffee and the sound of dishes clattering against each other. He rounds the corner into the kitchen to see Kaz standing, hands on hips, in front of the open dishwasher, back to the doorway.
“Why,” he growls under his breath, “won't you clean the fucking bowls?”
Nikolai leans against the door frame and watches Kaz angrily scoop a bowl from the dishwasher’s lower rack.
“What is the point of you?” he grouses. “Have to do everything myself.” He pulls out another bowl, looks into it, and snorts derisively as he stacks it and its predecessor on the counter.
“Maybe you should kick it,” Nikolai suggests.
Kaz’s spine stiffens for a moment before relaxing, the only sign he heard Nikolai.
“I just figured, if the verbal abuse wasn't helping,” Nikolai adds as he steps behind Kaz and picks up the bowls. “It might at least make you feel better.”
He doesn't watch for Kaz’s reaction as he takes the bowls to the sink, where two others are waiting, their insides spotted with grime.
Behind him, Kaz blows out a breath. “I'm just annoyed,” he says in a measured tone. “What is the point of technology if it can't even do its job?”
“That is the question,” Nikolai agrees, squirting dish soap into the top bowl and turning on the water. “At least it's just the bowls,” he adds as he takes a bottle brush to the offending dish.
“I guess,” Kaz mutters.
Over the sound of his scrubbing, Nikolai hears Kaz begin unloading the silverware. The dishes getting put away create an interesting sort of white noise, blending with the coffee machine and running water as he rinses the first bowl and starts on the next.
As soon as he sets the third bowl on the counter beside the sink, Kaz is there with a dishcloth in hand, picking up the bowl and whisking it away to its place in the cabinet.
“You don’t have to—” Nikolai starts, half turning.
Kaz catches his gaze and rolls his eyes. “I’m already doing it,” he points out. “Dishwasher’s done.”
Nikolai only shakes his head as he returns to the final bowl. “If you insist.”
Kaz doesn’t dignify this with a response, only grabbing the next bowl from Nikolai’s periphery and disappearing behind him once more.
By the time the bowls are clean and dry and put away, the coffee machine has finished and Nikolai goes to the mug cabinet.
“I don’t suppose I can tempt you this morning?” He turns his head just in time to catch the face Kaz makes.
“I’d rather have tea.”
“You could’ve put the kettle on,” Nikolai says, pulling down two mugs, one with a golden retriever painted on it, the other simply adorned with the word “nope”. “I’d have been happy to use the French press.”
Kaz shrugs as Nikolai hands him the “nope” mug. “Electric kettle’s faster anyway.”
The combining of their belongings when they moved in together had left them with a surplus of kitchen appliances, particularly when it comes to hot beverages.
“Fair enough.” Nikolai pours himself an almost full mug of coffee from the quarter full pot before setting it down to open the fridge for cream. After pouring the cream and returning it to the fridge, he asks, “Can you pass me a—?” only to find a spoon held out to him. “Oh. Thanks.”
He opens the sugar bowl that lives on the counter and scoops two healthy spoonfuls into his cup before stirring the mixture carefully and sliding the sugar bowl along to Kaz before he can ask.
“You going to eat?” Kaz asks as Nikolai shuffles out of the kitchen to sit at the small dining table.
“Probably.”
Kaz scowls at him over the kitchen counter. “You should eat.”
“The toaster!” Nikolai remembers.
Kaz’s frown deepens. “You can’t eat the toaster, Lantsov.”
“No, but I can clean it.”
“After you eat,” Kaz presses.
Nikolai lets out an exaggerated sigh. “Pushy.”
“I just don’t want you to be bitchy in an hour because you’re hungry,” Kaz says, turning away just as the electric kettle starts to rumble.
Nikolai sips his coffee and watches Kaz prepare his tea. He’s almost as fastidious about it as David.
He wasn’t really planning on skipping breakfast, hungry as he is, but sometimes it’s nice to be fussed over. And maybe, if he’s lucky…
“If I were to eat, I don’t know what I’d have,” he muses.
Kaz looks up with the flattest look he can pull, which is an impressively dead-eyed stare. “And I suppose you want me to solve that conundrum.”
Nikolai blinks innocently back at him. “Would you?” he asks sweetly.
Kaz holds his gaze, face not shifting. Nikolai takes another sip of his coffee. Kaz blinks. Nikolai blinks.
Eventually, Nikolai adds in a much softer tone, “Please?” and Kaz breaks. His eyes close and he holds in a breath for an impressively long time before exhaling loudly.
“Just say you want eggs,” he mutters as he turns around.
Nikolai hides his glee in another long pull of coffee as Kaz places a pan on the stove and grabs the eggs from the fridge.
“You’re only getting two,” he warns as he turns the stove on.
“I thought you didn’t want me to go hungry.”
“Manipulative bastards get the bare minimum.”
“So you only had two eggs this morning too?” Nikolai challenges.
“I only had toast.” Kaz pulls a folding stool from beside the refrigerator, opens it, and sits down before the stove, producing a spatula from seemingly thin air.
The mention of toast once again reminds Nikolai of the toaster’s crumb tray and he stands, walking back into the kitchen to deal with that. When he passes Kaz, he pauses to drop a kiss atop his barely mussed hair.
“Thank you, Kaz,” he murmurs. “I love you.”
Kaz doesn’t respond, just uses the spatula to maneuver the solidifying eggs into a shape that almost resembles a heart.
Nikolai doesn’t mind. Kaz has never been vocal about his affection and Nikolai doesn’t expect that to change. He shows he cares in little ways. Like making sure Nikolai eats, even when that means making him an omelette.
He’s still fiddling with the toaster when Kaz sets the omelette down in front of him. It’s no longer vaguely heart-shaped, having been topped with cheese and ham and folded in half, but Nikolai still smiles when he sees it.
“Thank you,” he repeats. “Do you know how to—?”
Kaz pulls the toaster away from him. “Go eat,” he commands.
Nikolai nods and takes the plate, stopping to grab a fork from the silverware drawer, before sitting down in front of his coffee. As he chews on the first delightfully cheesy bite of omelette, he watches Kaz effortlessly unlatch the crumb tray and send a shower of crumbs into the waiting trash can. He smacks the top of the toaster a couple of times for good measure, releasing a few more crumbs and making the toaster resound with a metallic sproing.
Kaz relatches the tray and returns the toaster to its designated place on the counter, then grabs his tea and joins Nikolai at the table.
“You're the best,” Nikolai tells him through a mouthful of eggs.
Kaz only shakes his head and downs half his mug at once.
“How long ‘til work?” Nikolai asks.
Kaz’s job had offered him a fairly flexible work from home schedule when the company underwent some restructuring a few years ago, and he’s managed to leverage his stellar productivity to keep that arrangement going even as his coworkers were made to return to the office.
Kaz glances at the microwave clock. “Half an hour?” He sets his near empty mug down. “What about you?”
As a freelancer, Nikolai’s schedule is even more flexible than Kaz’s.
“Not sure.” Nikolai turns his mug on the table, making the small amount of coffee in it swish back and forth. “Later than you, though.”
“To the surprise of exactly no one.”
“Hey, not all of us can be morning people.”
“I don't think ‘wakes up before noon without an alarm’ exactly qualifies one as a morning person.”
“Is it noon?”
Kaz levels him with an unimpressed look. “Have you ever slept more than 40 minutes after I get out of bed?”
“What, you're classifying yourself as an alarm now?”
Kaz shrugs mildly. “Might as well.” He swallows down the last of his tea. “Although I like ‘harbinger’ better.”
Nikolai laughs. “Ah yes, the harbinger of the late riser,” he says, “here to warn everyone to guard their coffee. And speaking of…”
He stands, picking up his plate in one hand and his mug in the other. He holds the plate out to Kaz, who places his own mug onto it. Thus laden, he heads back into the kitchen to put the dishes in the dishwasher and refill his coffee.
As he's doing the latter, he hears the floor creak as Kaz stands, then the sound of his slightly uneven steps padding down the hall to the bedroom. The door clicks shut and Nikolai takes his coffee into the living room to sit.
He sets his mug onto a coaster on the coffee table, then curls into the sofa, wrapping a convenient blanket around himself to protect against the morning’s chill. When he's done wriggling into the perfect comfortable position, he picks up a book from off the table.
He's just settling back into the story — a fantastical murder mystery set in space with phenomenal narrative voice — when the shower turns on. He doesn't think anything of it as he turns the page. Kaz often uses the detachable shower head to wash his hair as a supplement to his usual wash cloth baths.
After about five minutes, his peace is broken by Kaz’s voice, hoarse and panicky, calling his name.
Without bothering to mark his place, Nikolai drops his book and tosses back the blanket as he stands. With quick strides, he reaches the bedroom and pushes open the door, leaving it to thud against the doorstop. He only pauses when he reaches the bathroom door.
“Kaz?” he calls, loud enough to be heard over the still running water.
There's no response.
“I'm coming in,” Nikolai says, waiting a second before turning the handle and pushing open the door.
He finds Kaz huddled at the back of the tub, a puddle of sick slowly washing down the drain in front of him. It's easy enough to put together what happened from Kaz's state of undress and the distant, haunted look in his eyes.
Kaz has never fully divulged the details of whatever incident in his past created such an adverse reaction in him to the touch of skin on skin or water, but Nikolai knows enough to spot the triggered response and help Kaz work through it.
Nikolai pulls Kaz’s towel from its hook beside the door and slowly approaches the tub.
“Kaz?” he asks.
Kaz’s head drifts in his direction, but his eyes remain unfocused, his expression unchanging. Nikolai kneels beside the tub.
“Kaz,” he says again, keeping his tone as even and soothing as he can. “Hey. It’s me, it’s Nikolai. I’m here. You’re safe. You’re okay.” He ignores his instinct to reach out to Kaz, knowing the touch would only make things worse.
Instead, he does his best to help ground Kaz and bring him back to the present.
“You’re in the apartment,” he tells him, “in the tub. The shower’s running.” As he runs through a list of reality checks, Kaz’s eyes slowly start to clear. When they finally focus on Nikolai, he says, “I’m going to put your towel around you, is that alright?”
There’s a pause as the words sink in and find purchase in Kaz’s brain, then his head bobs jerkily.
Nikolai slowly brings the towel up and over the edge of the tub, then gently places it around Kaz’s shoulders, careful not to let his fingers accidentally brush Kaz's bare skin. When he's sure the towel won't just slip off, he looks back into Kaz's face.
His wet hair drips past his eyes, which once again have a far away look in them.
“Hey, Kaz?” Nikolai says as he pulls his hands back. “Stay with me, okay?”
Kaz's eyes slide to him and slowly refocus. After a moment of staring blankly at Nikolai, his already ashen face pales further and his whole body begins to tremble.
“Hey, hey.” Nikolai’s hands clench on the edge of the tub. “You're alright now, you're okay. I'm here, I'm with you.” He watches as Kaz screws his eyes shut and huddles further into himself. “What do you need?”
Several moments pass in which Kaz only sits there shaking, his breaths coming in quick, ragged pants.
Eventually, he croaks, “Keep… talking.”
“Okay.” Nikolai nods, though Kaz can't see it. He considers what to talk about, contemplating a grounding technique he knows before deciding against reminding Kaz of the circumstances that had brought him to this point. “I'll tell you about the book I'm reading,” he settles on.
“So there are necromancers, and they live in space. Well, they live on planets, but like, it feels very sci-fi because they have space travel and it's planets plural. Anyway…” He sets off on a rambly explanation of the setting, characters, and plot of his book, all the while watching Kaz.
As he talks, Kaz visibly relaxes, little by little. His breathing eases and the tension releases from his body as it slowly stops trembling.
Part way through his digression about the highly entertaining nature of the narration, Nikolai stands and moves to the front of the tub.
“Not leaving,” he clarifies when Kaz's breathing hitches. “Just turning off the shower.”
He keeps up his chatter about the book as he does so, expounding on the merits of unique storytelling.
“There's a ‘that’s what she said’ joke in it,” he says as he resumes his place beside the tub.
Kaz doesn't respond, but his breathing is steadier, his face less grey, and his expression more relaxed.
“Better?” Nikolai asks.
Kaz nods slowly. His hands holding the towel around him are still clenched too tight and he's still too pale, but he is better.
“Are you ready to leave the tub?”
Kaz hesitates, then nods again.
“Let me grab a pair of gloves,” Nikolai says, standing. “Be right back.”
He hurries into the bedroom and pulls open one of the top drawers of the dresser. It's full of gloves, stacked neatly in pairs, one atop another. Nikolai grabs a pair off the top and spins around to head back to the bathroom, pulling the gloves on as he walks.
When he gets back, Kaz hasn't moved, hasn't even opened his eyes.
“We doing this eyes closed?” he asks.
Kaz’s face scrunches for a moment before he nods resignedly.
Nikolai nods. “Alright.” He steps closer to the tub. “Can I take your hand?”
In staccato motions, Kaz unclenches his left hand from the towel and holds it out to Nikolai across his body. Nikolai gently places his own glove-clad left hand against it, watching a shudder run through Kaz at the contact. After a moment, Kaz grips Nikolai's hand.
“Second hand on your elbow okay?” Nikolai checks.
Kaz swallows hard, then nods.
Nikolai rests his other hand under Kaz’s elbow, waiting for another whole-body shudder to pass before continuing.
“Ready?”
Kaz sets his jaw and nods again.
“On three, then.” Nikolai adjusts his grip on Kaz’s hand. “One… two… three.”
With their combined efforts, Kaz is soon upright in the back of the tub, only looking slightly unsteady. Nikolai slowly lets his right hand drop away from Kaz's arm.
“Do you think you can open your eyes now?” he asks gently. “I don't want you to trip on the edge of the tub.”
Kaz pulls his hand away, takes a deep breath, and slowly opens his eyes, blinking a few times as they readjust. His gaze locks on Nikolai and doesn't move as he continues taking deep breaths, in and out through his nose.
“Good,” Nikolai says. “Do you need a hand to get out, or you got it?” He holds out his hand.
Kaz shakes his head.
“Okay.” Nikolai takes a step back, dropping his hand. “Whenever you're ready.”
It takes a little while longer for Kaz to be ready. When he is, he grips the towel around him with one hand and presses the other against the back wall of the shower as he steps over the edge of the tub. His eyes remain on Nikolai the entire time, as if Nikolai is his anchor point in a turbulent sea of panic and distress.
Nikolai does his best to radiate calm and strength for him.
“Do you want to get dressed?” he asks after a moment of standing and watching Kaz drip lightly onto the bath mat.
Kaz nods.
“Do you wanna move to the bedroom first?”
Another nod.
“Alright.” Nikolai takes a backward step towards the door. After a moment’s hesitation, Kaz follows.
They make their way out into the bedroom like that, until Nikolai bumps up against the bed.
“Come sit while I find you something comfortable.”
Kaz hesitantly does, dropping the towel down to act as a barrier between him and the sheets. Nikolai makes sure he's settled before heading to the dresser once more.
He closes the glove drawer, then roots around in just about every other drawer, pulling together pieces of an outfit. He grabs boxers from the other top drawer, the most comfortable pair of slacks Kaz owns from a neatly folded pile in the bottom drawer, and one of his own t-shirts from the absolute mess that is the middle drawer.
He piles together the clothing and brings it over to Kaz.
“Here.” He sets it on the bed beside him. “I can go make you some more tea.”
He's just turned to leave when Kaz manages in a rough voice, “Stay.”
Nikolai turns back to find Kaz watching him, eyes wild and desperate.
“Okay,” he says. “I'll stay right here.”
Kaz closes his eyes and nods, his throat working.
Nikolai stands there and watches as Kaz slowly gets dressed in his methodical manner that ensures as little skin-to-skin contact as possible. When he's fully clothed, Nikolai pulls off the gloves he's wearing and extends them to Kaz.
Kaz takes them carefully and slides them on. He perches on the edge of the bed looking a little ridiculous with his wet hair and Nikolai’s shirt which is so not his style and the trousers and gloves which so are. But he also looks calmer as he takes in a deep breath and rubs his palm down his bad leg.
“More tea?” Nikolai asks.
Kaz thinks for a moment before shaking his head.
“Not… right now,” he rasps.
“Okay,” Nikolai agrees. “What would you like?”
Kaz pats the bed next to him.
Nikolai takes his cue and sits gingerly beside him, leaving plenty of space between them.
They sit together in silence. Nikolai is acutely aware of Kaz next to him, each of his breaths and every minute movement as he regains his composure. The part of his brain that isn't buzzing with worry starts a mental to-do list for when things are calmer. For now, though, he's content to just sit.
A while later, when Kaz’s even breathing is no longer interrupted by sharp, juddering breaths, he says, “Tea?”
“Tea,” Nikolai agrees. He stands.
Kaz winces a little as he follows suit.
“Do you want your cane?”
He nods.
Nikolai crosses the room and retrieves Kaz’s cane, a simple black affair with a fritz handle, then presents it to him. Kaz takes it and together they make their way back to the kitchen.
“Do you want to make it, or shall I?” Nikolai asks.
“Trust you,” Kaz mumbles.
Nikolai feels suddenly too small for the emotions he's feeling. He swallows past a rising lump in his throat.
On the one hand, it's implicitly clear Kaz trusts him. Trusts him enough to live together, to get him through episodes like this, to see him at his weakest.
On the other hand, Kaz is never so open with, well, anything. And to be told outright that he is trusted, even — and perhaps especially — with something so mundane and simple as making tea properly, makes Nikolai feel a kind of gratitude and honor and overwhelming love that physically aches.
“Okay,” he says thickly. He swallows again. “Then why don't you sit down, and I'll start on that. Do you want a blanket?”
Kaz shakes his head, then makes his way out to the dining table.
Nikolai watches him sit, then pulls a mug out of the cabinet and begins the tea-making process. He's watched Kaz make tea, made fun of him for his precise routine, enough times that he knows the steps well enough to replicate them.
One spoonful of sugar in the bottom of the mug. Water heated not quite to boiling in the electric kettle, and the last quarter of the mug filled with cold water from the fridge to create a perfectly drinkable temperature. And last but not least, a single tea bag set to steep for exactly five minutes.
As the tea steeps, Nikolai joins Kaz at the table.
“Where's your phone?” he asks.
Kaz gestures to the other side of the table, where his phone sits, presumably where he left it after breakfast. Nikolai reaches over and plucks it up, then holds it out to Kaz.
“Unlock, please.”
Kaz hesitantly takes the phone and pulls his right glove off to type in his ridiculously long passcode. He hands the unlocked phone back to Nikolai, putting his glove back on as Nikolai opens his texts.
He finds the thread between Kaz and his boss and opens it, finding the last message dated three weeks ago when Kaz had to go into the office for a meeting. In his best imitation of Kaz’s brusque texting style, he taps out a message.
[Something came up. I'm taking today off.]>
Satisfied that this is passably Kaz, he hits send. He looks up to see Kaz's head tilted in inquiry.
“You're taking the day off work.”
Kaz’s eyes widen and he reaches for his phone, which Nikolai holds away from him.
“I know,” he says. “I know you're more than capable of compartmentalizing and moving on, but I'm not. Saints know I won't be able to get any work done today. And I would rather spend that time with you than apart.”
Kaz glares at him, though there's little actual ire in the look.
“Besides,” Nikolai adds, glancing at the screen, “your boss already approved.”
Kaz sits back with a sigh. He looks tired and, Nikolai thinks, maybe a little relieved. Nikolai knows Kaz won't allow himself the rest and relaxation he deserves without a push. And framing it as something he's doing to help Nikolai, however transparently, helps Kaz accept that push.
There was a time when nothing Nikolai said or did would’ve convinced Kaz to simply spend the day with him after something like this, when Kaz would’ve grit his teeth and gone back to work, forcing himself through the aftereffects of the panic. It had taken so long for Nikolai to even notice how much Kaz was hurting himself doing this, he was that good at shoving down the pain.
Now, though, Kaz is willing to let Nikolai fuss over him, at least for a while.
The kitchen timer goes off with a flurry of beeps and Nikolai gets up to save the tea from over-steeping, handing Kaz his phone back.
He shuts off the timer as he passes, then carefully transports the saturated tea bag to the trash can, lamenting internally the complete lack of composting options in the apartment complex. He grabs the mug of perfectly brewed tea and brings it to Kaz.
Kaz takes a sip and almost smiles.
“Thanks.”
“Of course.” Nikolai flops back into his chair and watches Kaz enjoy his tea.
It doesn't take long for Kaz to finish the drink and set the mug down with a contented exhale.
“Feel better?” Nikolai asks.
Kaz nods.
“Good.” Nikolai stands, grabbing the empty mug off the table. “How would you like to spend your day off?” he calls as he reenters the kitchen.
He doesn't expect an answer right away, so he makes no effort to be quiet while putting the mug in the dishwasher. When he's done, though, he leans expectantly on the counter that separates him and Kaz.
Kaz gazes at him for a moment before softly saying, “Movie?”
Nikolai smiles brightly. “An excellent choice. Let me just run to the bathroom real quick and we'll get right on that.”
When he returns, he finds Kaz kneeling before the TV, fiddling with the DVD player.
“Coffee,” Kaz says when he hears Nikolai approaching, pointing behind himself to the mug that sits abandoned on the table.
“Ah, yes. I suppose it's gone cold by now.” It has. “Oh well.” He picks up the mug and takes it to the kitchen, dumping the remains into the sink and reuniting it with its brethren in the dishwasher.
As he does so, he hears the familiar strains of the title screen of The Princess Bride playing through the TV’s speakers. He smiles to himself.
He should've known Kaz would pick this as his movie of choice. Their shared love of it had been a foundational part of their early friendship, and it still persists as something of a comfort to them both.
Nikolai heads back out to the living room where Kaz now sits on the sofa, his legs extended beneath the coffee table, a blanket draped over his lap. When Nikolai sits beside him, Kaz lifts the edge of the blanket and sets it over Nikolai’s lap as well. Nikolai beams at him.
“Thank you.”
Kaz blinks back at him, then turns to the TV, pulling the remote from apparently nowhere and pressing play.
The screen goes black, and with the sound of a cough and an eight-bit rendition of Take Me Out to the Ballgame, the movie begins.
They make it as far as “Is this a kissing book?” before Nikolai gives in to his urge to quote along with the movie.
He glances at Kaz, who had to have known this was a strong possibility when he chose the film, only to find his dark gaze already on him, a half-smile quirking the corner of his lips.
“What?” Nikolai asks.
Kaz shrugs, shaking his head slightly.
“I can stop if you—” He breaks off at Kaz’s vehement head shake. “Ah,” he says with a smile. “You like it when I quote along with the movie.” His grin widens when Kaz rolls his eyes. “You think it's hot that I have it memorized. The depth of my memory is irresistibly attractive to you and once I start you're utterly enthralled to the point of forgetting the original movie entirely. Am I right?”
Kaz shakes his head and turns back to the movie, but the slight flush on his cheeks belies his indifference. Nikolai gazes fondly at his profile for a moment before also returning his attention to the TV.
They've just reached the shrieking eels when Kaz abruptly pulls his legs up onto the sofa. Nikolai gives him a questioning look, but Kaz is too busy readjusting the blanket.
“Good?” he asks after a moment more of Kaz fidgeting.
Kaz starts to nod, pauses, then shakes his head.
“What do you need?”
Kaz stops fiddling with the blanket and looks at him. His eyes are uncharacteristically emotive, expressing a vulnerability Nikolai rarely gets to see from him. Hesitantly, he reaches out, pressing his right palm against Nikolai’s chest.
“You want to listen to my heartbeat?” Nikolai interprets. It’s something Kaz has done before when coming down from a panic attack. Something about it seems to lessen the lingering effects, despite the necessary contact.
Kaz nods slowly.
“You’re more than welcome to.” Nikolai has personally never liked being able to hear other people’s heartbeats, the sound simply a reminder of the entire cardiovascular system and a little overwhelming to his brain. But Kaz visibly relaxes at the invitation, pulling his hand away and gesturing for Nikolai to scoot down the sofa.
He obliges, settling into the corner where the arm meets the back, allowing Kaz an easier time resting his head on his chest. Kaz pulls the blanket along with him and settles it over them once again.
As the man in black duels Inigo atop the Cliffs of Insanity, Nikolai whispers, “Can I play with your hair?”
Kaz thinks for a moment before nodding against Nikolai’s chest.
Nikolai brings a hand up to play delicately in the ends of Kaz’s dark hair. It’s dry now and flows like water between his fingers as he brushes through it.
They sit like that for the rest of the movie, Kaz listening to Nikolai's heartbeat, Nikolai gently carding his hand through Kaz's hair as he softly recites lines.
Nikolai is half-convinced that Kaz has fallen asleep, but he sits up as the movie draws to a close.
“How're you feeling?” Nikolai asks as Kaz readjusts to being fully upright.
“Better,” says Kaz, and it sounds less like he has to force the word out.
“Good.”
Nikolai shifts, discovering that his left leg has fallen asleep. He winces and jiggles his leg to aid the blood flow. Pins and needles prickle along his skin as he slowly regains feeling.
Kaz watches him impassively. Nikolai would feign offense at this blatant lack of care for his predicament, but he's mostly just glad Kaz once again has the energy to mask his emotions like normal.
Once his leg is more or less back to normal, Nikolai stands, stretching his arms up and out. Kaz stiffly unbends his own legs from their curled position, frowning as his knees crack, then pauses the TV mid credit-roll, stopping the ambient music.
Into the resulting silence, Nikolai asks, “What now?”
Kaz blinks up at him, but says nothing.
“It’s your day off,” Nikolai points out.
“And you made me take it. I would have been fine going to work.” Kaz’s voice is perfectly neutral, betraying neither ire nor censure, simply stating facts.
Nikolai turns a building sigh into a mere deep inhale. “‘Fine’ here being relative.”
Kaz dips his head to one side. “Perhaps,” he concedes.
They've come a long way from the days of Kaz insisting he was fine even as he hurried to the bathroom to throw up again after an episode.
“Is there really nothing you want to do today?” Nikolai asks. “Another movie we could watch, even?”
Kaz shrugs. “I suppose… there's the puzzle Inej gave me.”
“Don't sound too excited, now.”
Kaz shoots him a look and Nikolai chuckles, raising his hands in surrender.
“Tell me where it is so I can go get it,” he says.
Kaz points to the bottom shelf of the bookcase full of miscellanea next to the TV. As Nikolai walks over to search the indicated location, he hears the floor creak under Kaz's weight as he stands and the TV’s power-off noise.
When he's finally found the puzzle, he turns to see Kaz clearing off what little clutter was on the dining table, carefully transferring items to the kitchen counter. Nikolai brings the puzzle over to the table, examining the lid of the box.
The puzzle is of a real picture of the Pillars of the Universe taken by the James Webb Space Telescope. It's a gorgeous picture that was passed around the Internet when it came out, and Nikolai can only hope the 1000-piece puzzle does it an iota of justice.
He sets the box reverently in the middle of the table and sits in the chair across from the one Kaz has settled into.
“Ready?” he asks.
Kaz nods and Nikolai reaches out to pull the lid dramatically off. He's stymied in his attempt at melodrama by the nature of the cardboard box. The lid sticks terribly and he's forced to shake the whole thing until the lid gives it up and the inner compartment lets go with a quiet whoomph and plops onto the table.
Nikolai blinks at the lid in his hands then raises his head to meet Kaz's gaze.
“Well, that was unnecessarily difficult.”
“Indeed,” says Kaz, pulling the bottom of the box towards him and examining the pile of puzzle pieces within. “This is gonna take a while.”
“We've got all day,” Nikolai reminds him, setting the lid down upside down. “We'll put the edge pieces in here, yeah?”
Kaz makes an affirmative noise before tipping his half of the box over, spilling puzzle pieces into the space between them.
They begin the process of sifting through the pieces in search of edges. Kaz is silent in his concentration, but Nikolai fills the space with a steady stream of words, mostly directed at the cardboard in front of him.
“You can't hide from me,” he croons as he claws through a small pile of pieces. “You may think you're safe in your little pile, but I'm— aha! A corner!”
He holds up his find then places it with the two other corner pieces he's found in the lid.
“I'm so good at this.”
“You're going to get a good grade in jigsaw puzzle,” Kaz says without looking up, “something that is both normal to want and possible to achieve.”
“Exactly,” says Nikolai. “It's like you know me.”
Kaz shakes his head and drops a few more edge pieces into the lid.
When they're reasonably sure they've found all the edges, they scoop the remaining pieces back into the bottom of the box and start piecing together the outline of the puzzle.
“It's smaller than I expected,” Nikolai says as he completes an edge. Even still, it takes up most of the table as it grows.
Nikolai watches Kaz press the final edge piece into place, then catches his gaze with a grin.
“Ready for the fun part?”
Kaz rolls his eyes. “The hard part, you mean.”
“It's only one or the other if you don't enjoy a challenge.”
“And if I don't enjoy a challenge?”
“Inej wouldn't have given you a jigsaw puzzle.”
Kaz pauses, before sighing and deciding, “Fair enough.”
“Shall we begin, then?”
Kaz nods and once again tips out the bottom of the box.
They start sorting by colour, Nikolai taking gold and Kaz light blue.
“Hey!” Nikolai protests when Kaz snags a few pieces from his pile.
“You have like 45% of the puzzle,” Kaz points out. “You can spare these.”
“I suppose…”
An hour later, Nikolai abruptly becomes aware of hunger gnawing at his stomach.
“What do you wanna do for lunch?” he asks.
Kaz shrugs, his attention wholly on the singular light blue puzzle piece that doesn't want to fit anywhere.
“I could make grilled cheese?” Nikolai suggests.
That gets Kaz to look up. He narrows his eyes. “With supervision,” he says.
Nikolai laughs. Kaz had been present the first time he'd ever tried to make grilled cheese and has yet to let the incident go. In fairness to his past self, frying both slices of bread at the same time had seemed the most efficient way to cook the sandwich. In fairness to Kaz, trying to assemble the sandwich post-frying had led to a fairly predictable mess.
Now, Kaz still refuses to let Nikolai make grilled cheese sandwiches on his own, lest he try his doomed method again.
“By all means,” Nikolai says, standing, “supervise.”
He walks into the kitchen, sensing more than anything Kaz's presence behind him. He pulls their large fry pan out of the cupboard and places it atop the stove, then turns to the counter for bread.
At the same time, he sees Kaz pull open the fridge, undoubtedly to gather butter and cheese. By the time he has four slices of bread laid out on the cutting board — the most convenient surface available — the refrigerated items have appeared by his elbow. He retrieves a knife from the silverware drawer and prepares the bread by buttering each slice.
Under Kaz’s careful watch, he sets two of the bread slices butter-side down in the pan.
As he goes back for the cheese, he says, “You know, I bet I could make a grilled cheese like that if I—”
“No,” Kaz says, immediate and firm.
“You don’t even wanna see if I could pull it off this time?”
“I don’t particularly feel like scraping burnt cheese off the pan today.”
“Oh, ye of little faith.”
“Make the sandwiches, Lantsov.”
Nikolai opens his mouth, but Kaz adds, “Correctly,” and he shuts it again.
He grabs the cheese, sets a slice each on the bread in the pan, then grabs the remaining bread slices and sets them on top. Then it’s just a matter of turning on the stove and waiting for the bread to get perfectly golden brown and the cheese to get deliciously melty.
Kaz keeps an eye on him as he flips the sandwiches, pressing down on them just to hear the sizzle of butter on a hot pan. He smiles a little wickedly at the sound and Kaz shakes his head at him.
“Shut up.”
“Didn’t say anything.”
“Don’t make me burn your sandwich.”
“Good luck burning one and keeping me from eating the other.”
“Maybe I’ll burn them both.”
“You’ve heard of cutting your nose off to spite your face?”
“Ha-ha,” Nikolai says, grabbing one of the plates Kaz had set next to the stove. “Fortunately, I love you and will not burn your sandwich or my own just to spite you.” He plates the first sandwich and hands it to Kaz, plates the second, then turns off the stove.
They walk back to the dining room, plates in hand.
“Can I get you a drink?” Nikolai asks, setting his plate carefully into a clear area of table.
“Just water.”
“As you wish.” Nikolai winks before spinning around to return to the kitchen.
He fills up two glasses of cold water from the sink and brings them out to the table.
“Thanks,” Kaz says when Nikolai sets one glass in front of him.
“Of course.” He takes the other glass to his side of the table and clears a spot for it.
They eat in a comfortable silence, each focusing hard on the puzzle in between bites of grilled cheese. Kaz finishes his sandwich first, sets his plate at the unoccupied end of the table, and begins scouring the unorganized pieces strewn before him.
“Whatcha lookin’ for?” Nikolai asks, curiosity piqued by Kaz’s intent searching.
“This bitch—” Kaz holds up a piece— “doesn’t want to fit anywhere.”
“Lemme see?” Nikolai holds out his hand and Kaz drops the troublesome piece into it.
Nikolai examines it for a moment before decisively popping it into place in the middle of his growing sprawl of connected pieces.
He grins triumphantly at Kaz. “Got it.”
“I see my mistake was in not taking more pieces from your pile,” Kaz says thoughtfully. “Duly noted.”
“Why does it feel like you're figuring out how to cheat at puzzling?”
Kaz shrugs with one shoulder, a gesture that conveys a surprising amount of smugness.
Nikolai gazes at the man across from him, his partner, and is almost overcome by the urge to tell him every sappy thought running through his head.
Before he can make a complete ass of himself by giving in to that desire, Kaz asks, “What?”
Nikolai shakes his head. “Nothing,” he says. “Just… I love you, that's all.”
Kaz tilts his head, considering Nikolai with a critical eye.
“What's that look for?”
“You find my alleged cheating admirable.” There's an air of accusation in the statement.
Nikolai chuckles. “I find the way your mind works admirable. Especially when you figure out how to do the impossible.” He pops the last of his sandwich into his mouth. “Whether that includes allegedly cheating at jigsaw puzzles…” He shrugs and leans back in his chair.
“I see,” says Kaz. He runs one gloved finger along the nearest edge of the puzzle, holding Nikolai's gaze. “You know, some might say that makes me a bad influence.”
Nikolai raises a brow. “And some might say my admiration only encourages you.”
One corner of Kaz's mouth lifts into a wry little smile. “What a pair,” he says drily.
“Truly.” Nikolai gives Kaz a lazy grin as he sits back up. “Back to it?”
The puzzle takes them most of the afternoon. By the time Kaz presses the final piece into place, the sunlight slanting through the kitchen window plays across the wall opposite and Nikolai's upper back and neck ache.
He stands, both to admire the completed puzzle and to stretch out his sore muscles.
“We did it,” he says, holding his head to one side to stretch his neck.
“We did,” Kaz says. He gazes steadily at the puzzle. “Now what?”
“We could get one of those puzzle frames and hang it up somewhere,” Nikolai suggests as he pulls his arms behind his back.
“It can't stay on the dining table indefinitely.”
Nikolai frowns. “We don't really have anywhere else to put it. Surely it can stay for tonight, though,” he adds quickly. “We'll figure something out tomorrow.”
Kaz turns his attention from the puzzle to Nikolai, watching him continue his stretches for a moment before saying, “Alright. I don't really feel like disassembling it all right now anyway.”
Nikolai smiles brightly at him before completing his stretching by dropping down to touch his toes.
Kaz snorts. “Show-off.”
“I maintain,” Nikolai says from his bent position, “that this is a perfectly normal level of flexibility. It's not like I'm Inej.”
He straightens slowly, just for the pleasure of seeing Kaz’s pointed eye roll.
“And anyway, you love my show-offishness.”
“Debatable,” says Kaz as he stands. “Help me with the dishes.”
Once their lunch dishes are secure in the dishwasher, Nikolai leans languidly back against the kitchen counter, basking in the late afternoon sunlight.
“You're staring,” he tells Kaz, who is, in fact, staring at him.
“Your hair,” is Kaz’s laconic reply.
“What about my hair?” Nikolai's hand drifts automatically up to his head.
“It looks good. In the sun. Like gold.”
“Oh.” He lets his hand fall back to his side.
“And I like looking at you,” Kaz adds in a rush, as if worried the words won't come out.
“Oh,” Nikolai says again. “Well, I like looking at you, too.”
To prove his point, he makes a show of eying Kaz up and down.
“That shirt looks good on you,” he says after his perusal. “Maybe you should keep it.”
Kaz looks down at the t-shirt. It's got a picture of Calvin and Hobbes on it. He raises an eyebrow as his gaze lifts back to Nikolai.
“And when would I ever wear it?”
Nikolai shrugs. “I dunno. Around the house.”
Kaz just stares at him.
“I mean, if you don't want it, that's fi—”
“I didn't say that.”
Nikolai can't help the knowing smile that crosses his face. “Alright.”
A beat passes, then Nikolai says, “We don't have to stand in the kitchen all day, you know.”
“I know.” Kaz shifts his weight off his bad leg. “Just trying to think of something else to do that isn't ‘nap’.”
“You can take a nap if you want.”
Kaz glances out the window, then at the microwave clock. He shakes his head.
“Something else low-effort, then? Another movie?” Nikolai suggests.
“Not great for my ‘not falling asleep’ agenda,” Kaz says.
“Hmm, true.”
“Maybe… we could read?”
Nikolai doesn't point out that both of them have, at some point or another, fallen asleep reading. Instead, he says, “You're just full of good ideas today,” and leads the way out of the kitchen.
After a quick bathroom break, they settle into the living room. Kaz stretches across the sofa with a beat up copy of The Iliad, while Nikolai sits on the floor, his back against the front of the sofa, his head tipped back on the cushion, and his book held above him.
Over time, Nikolai's position changes whenever his body starts to ache, until he's eventually lying on his stomach parallel to the sofa, with the book out in front of him. He hears Kaz snort in amusement above him and cranes his neck to look back at him.
“Something clever from Homer?” he asks archly.
Kaz shakes his head. “You look like a rug.”
“And you look like a consumption-riddled Victorian ingénue on a fainting couch.”
Kaz’s mouth drops open in a facsimile of shock. “Uncalled for.”
Nikolai shrugs innocently. “You started it.”
“Just go back to your book.”
Nikolai grins at him over his shoulder. “Sure thing, Ms. Westenra.”
He catches Kaz’s scowl before he returns his attention to his book.
It’s unclear to Nikolai how much time has passed, so absorbed is he in his book, when Kaz announces that he’s hungry. Evidently, it’s been a while, because when he goes to sit up, his muscles scream in protest.
“Oh, ow,” he mutters.
“Did you hurt yourself reading?” Kaz asks.
“Just stiff, that’s all.”
“Not too stiff to help with dinner, I hope.”
“Not at all.” Nikolai leans back against the sofa and tilts his head to look at where Kaz is now sitting. “What were you thinking?”
“How about mac’n’cheese?”
“Delightful. Do you want to add some ground beef to it?”
“That sounds good.”
“Excellent.” Nikolai claps his hands together. “Let’s get started.”
With only minimal grunts and groans, Nikolai stands and heads to the kitchen behind Kaz. Kaz pulls out the boxed mac’n’cheese and sets it next to the stove, then grabs his stool from beside the fridge. As he unfolds it, Nikolai grabs a pot and fills it with water from the sink, placing it on the stove in front of Kaz.
While Kaz sets the noodles to boil, Nikolai finds some ground beef to thaw in the microwave.
“I’m surprised you were able to get the box open so fast,” Nikolai remarks.
Kaz holds up the remains of the box, which looks like it’s been mauled by a wild animal.
“I see,” says Nikolai with a repressed laugh.
“You show me an easier way to get into these damn boxes and I’ll pay for your expensive-ass ice cream next time.”
“You could use scissors?”
Kaz’s scathing reply is cut off before it can begin by the microwave beeping.
Nikolai removes the beef from the microwave and finds their last remaining clean pan to put it in. He stands at the stove next to Kaz and begins the tedious process of breaking the hunk of semi-thawed meat into bite sized chunks with a spatula.
He and Kaz switch tasks when it comes time to drain the noodles, Kaz keeping an eye on the mostly cooked beef, and Nikolai pouring the contents of the pot through a strainer into the sink. Kaz turns the stove off as Nikolai adds milk, butter, and the cheese powder to the noodles and begins mixing.
“I guess we’ll plate it in here and eat in the living room?” he says once the cheese sauce has combined.
“I guess we will,” says Kaz, glancing at the dining table and the puzzle thereon.
Nikolai grabs two bowls from the cupboard. Kaz replaces his stool, then grabs silverware, a fork for himself, and a spoon for Nikolai. They take turns scooping mac’n’cheese into their bowls and adding the ground beef on top. Nikolai gets the ketchup from the fridge and, after shaking it, squirts a healthy amount into his bowl before carefully stirring.
They go back to the living room, sitting side by side on the sofa to eat their meal. Kaz rests his head briefly on Nikolai’s shoulder in between bites.
Nikolai feels his face soften into a smile at the action, and he takes a contented breath.
“I’m glad I got to spend the day with you,” Kaz says suddenly.
“I’m glad, too.” Nikolai watches Kaz from the corner of his eye. “And I’m glad you feel better now.”
Kaz nods. “Thank you.”
He doesn’t need to say for what. There are so many things it could be, and Nikolai knows he means every single one.
“You’re welcome. I love you.”
And Kaz doesn’t need to say it back. It could go unspoken as it so often does, and Nikolai would know regardless, but he does.
“I love you, too.”