Slightly mad fic I came up with when I couldn't get this rhyme out of my head. One sided jokey Teslen, or just Nikola being Nikola.

I own nothing but the mistakes.

Impractical applications of logic OR Sandwiches

"Sandwiches are beautiful, sandwiches are fine. I like sandwiches I eat them all the time. I eat them for my breakfast and I eat them for my lunch; if I had a hundred sandwiches I'd eat them all at once."

"Nikola!" Helen stuck her head out of her office to see the man walking down the corridor. "What are you on about?"

He turned, and Helen saw that he had one hand on a sandwich with a bite sized hole in it, and his mouth was chewing what was most likely (hopefully) the missing piece of refreshment.

Nikola raised an eyebrow in that manner of his: ever the polite gentleman he waited until his mouth was empty before speaking.

"Why Helen; I'd thought that would have been obvious – what with me singing about it." He rolled his eyes sarcastically (yes, it is possible: he's a genius remember) with his last comment.

"I didn't think you liked sandwiches."

"What on earth would give you that idea?"

Helen blinked. "Well, last time someone made you a sandwich you ranted at them non-stop for an hour about how disgusting it was and that the whole notion of "two slices of bread avec icky fillings" was revolting to you."

Nikola frowned. "I said that?" He looked genuinely shocked. "More importantly – I said icky?" Helen nodded slowly, staring warily at her friend. Nikola furrowed his brow. "Huh." He looked considerate for a minute. "Well, I've changed my mind."

"Apparently so." Helen couldn't help but be amused by his antics. Suddenly she caught a distinctive whiff of something, and she peered closer at the sandwich. "Is that...marmite?" She asked incredulously.

"Indeed it is Helen: is that a problem?" He didn't bother waiting for an answer before ploughing on. "I find I have an affinity with this spread; you know what they say about marmite; you either love it or you hate it – a little bit like me. Although I've never understood how someone could hate such perfection – jealousy I suppose."

Helen stared. "Nikola that's...idiotic!"

"Really?" he looked actually surprised, which served to confuse Helen greatly. "Gosh, that's..." he trailed off, frowning. He stood still for a minute, moving only to eat his sandwich whilst Helen watched him stare into space from her doorway.

He finished his sandwich, wiped his hands on a serviette produced as if by magic, and stared a little longer.

Suddenly he whipped his head around: his face was panicked, movements jerky; the very opposite of everything Mr. Tesla usually was.

"Nikola?" Helen asked, starting to get worried about him.

"Helen." The monotone sounded nothing like his norm: dull and quiet. His eyes focused on her from across the hall. Three of his long-legged steps put them just a foot apart: one of his hands placed on each of her shoulders. She met his eyes and almost stumbled back at their intensity; but more than that – Helen thought she saw fear floating not far from their shining surface.

"Nikola, what's wrong?"

"Do you hate me?" The question was rushed, sudden, as if he'd tricked himself into asking it before he could chicken out. The apprehension in his gaze grew stronger as Helen's eyes widened.

"What? No, of course not: what'd-"

As quickly as he had vanished her cocky, arrogant friend was back; one very smug grin taking pride of place across most of his face.

"I knew it – I just knew it!" Helen stepped back out of reach but he didn't stop grinning. "You love me – I knew it! You always have!"

"What on earth are you on about?"

Nikola's grin only grew wider, and rather smugger. "Marmite," was his only reply.

"What is that-" Understanding dawned.

Helen cocked her head to one side and gave her 'disapproving stare'. Nikola wasn't fazed: never had been really. She tried a different tact.

"I didn't mean...you are insane, you know that? Completely and utterly insane! Was that your big plan: to make out that I loved you because of marmite?"

"Well no; it was kind of spontaneous: true genius doesn't have limits. Although I wouldn't say no to the making out bit." Helen rolled her eyes at that. "You know what else I like? Apart from sandwiches and marmite?" She didn't reply. "Hmmm...no? You.

Suddenly Nikola struck his arms out in an overly dramatic pose: side on, face towards her, arms outstretched. Helen's eyes widened: she hope to god he wasn't going to start serenading her.

Luckily instead he began to speak aloud as if reading from a poem, his voice low.

"Helen is beautiful, Helen is fine. I like Helen, I-" He stopped, raised one hand to shoulder height and turned his head towards it, as if struck by its magnificence. "I've had a brilliant idea." There was a glint in his eye which Helen immediately decided she didn't like the look of. "Why don't I combine the two things I like the most;" he raised his other hand as well, walking towards her as he spoke. "You, and sandwiches. Sandwiches, and you."

As he finished speaking he crossed the rest of the space between them again, and Helen found herself back against the wall, one of Nikola's hands on either side of her. "You know; a Helen sandwich. Like this: me, Helen, wall. There's other combinations too. Me, Helen, floor." He moved slowly closer until his face was only a few inches from hers. Helen instinctively drew backwards even though there was nowhere to go. "Or my personal favourite: me, Helen, bed-"

The sound of the resulting slap echoed through the entire building, bouncing off the walls, floors and down the endless corridors. It was quickly followed by a sharp yelp, what sounded like a stern scolding, and the sound of heels marching rapidly away.

After a few more moments a familiar tune floated hauntingly through the air after its predecessors, lingering in the corners like a half-forgotten ghost.

"...I like sandwiches, I eat them all the time..."

~fin

Would love to know what you thought.