I think my silliest Mildly Autistic Nicky headcanon is that yes, he adores spices and seasonings and authentic flavours, but very occasionally (like once every six months) he will want a Plain Food day where he eats nothing but pastina in brodo and bread and butter and other boring things and everyone goes along with it. Joe is happy because Nicky is happy, Andy and Booker will eat anything if it sits still long enough. Nile was surprised but anything Nicky cooks is nourishing even if it's not mind-blowing.
The menu resumes as normal the next day.
(Actually I don't know if this is silly or not. I just like the idea. I would also imagine that they've eaten their fair share of fucking atrocious meals over the centuries, stuff that not even Nicky's skill could save, so anything is better than ship's hard tack, tripe or rotten rice.)
You're a child. An infant. Your mocking is thus infantile. He's not my boyfriend. This man is more to me than you can dream. He's the moon when I'm lost in darkness and warmth when I shiver in cold. And his kiss still thrills me, even after a millennia. His heart overflows with a kindness of which this world is not worth of. I love this man beyond measure and reason. He's not my boyfriend. He's all and he's more.
writing fanfiction is just fingers clenching over a keyboard as you ferally mutter i just want this little guy to be held, damn it and proceeding to hurt said little guy (gn) for about 10k words before you actually give them their hug