Chapter Text
A dull throb went throughout his body as he opened his eyes to a blurry surrounding. Claws gripped sheets that seemed to be much softer than what he was used to, less used to. He tried to shift around, but the pain immediately coursed through his body and made him grunt out. A somewhat familiar, distant sounding voice, "Don't move. You'll open up the wound."
He mumbled out what sounded like a "huh" and looked down, seeing his scarred, naked torso with a bandage wrapped around his stomach. Dark inky blood stained the side of the bandage. Just a quick flash of an imp stabbing him with a holy blade and an intense burning sensation going through him. He remembered smashing the assailant's head into a wall multiple times afterwards, but what happened before and after was all a blur.
"Hey, Striker! You o- …Well, I guess that's quite a dumb question." The wrath imp was brought back to reality as he blinked at the well-dressed, freckled, red imp that stared at him with a worried expression. He had a bowl of what seemed to be some kind of soup in his hand. However, Striker immediately felt like he saw red at seeing the other as he snarled, showing his golden tooth, "YOU!"
The cowboy was about to leap at the other, but got stopped by a handcuff around his wrist, as well as the pain in his side. However, he tried not to show it as he glared at the imp that scrambled to grab a gun, making sure to place the bowl down next. Striker growled, tail rattling erratically, "You fucking vermin! Ya did this to me, didn't ya!? I should tear ya open from your chest ta that yellow belly of yers!"
The red imp scoffed, "First of all, I'm caring for you, so best to call me by name. …It's Moxxie, if yo-"
"I know yer damn name!"
"J-Just making sure and I didn't do any of this! I found you nearly dead in an alley, you even still had shards of a poorly crafted holy metal in your wound. I could've just left you there and not have to deal with you ever coming after us, but I decided even a snake like you didn't deserve such a death. So….you know….be more courteous to me or else! A-And don't move so much, you'll open the stitching!" Moxxie yelled at him as he continued to hold the gun. The gun made a slight clattering sound as it shook in his claws, clearly wasn't expecting Striker to attempt and attack him.
The bigger imp glared murderously as his tail whipped back and forth, causing Moxxie to shift his gaze from him to the tail. He asked, "And why should I believe ya, little man? Doin' a lot of shakin' fer someone innocent."
Moxxie gulped, grabbed the bowl, and held it out for Striker, "I...I guess you don't have to, but I'm the only one caring for you right now and I even brought you to a motel. So, you can either fight me on this or just...you know, just deal with...whatever this is!"
The larger imp made a loud hiss that made the smaller one tense up. He then glanced at the bowl and felt his stomach growl. Striker hadn't had an actual meal or anything homemade in...years, so he might be longing for something actually substantial. He glanced at the two things for a few seconds before wrapping his tail around the bowl and chugging down the soup, making Moxxie get shocked at his ravenous behavior.
Moxxie placed the gun back into his jacket and slightly calmed down, taking a deep breath. He went over to the kitchen and said, "I didn't tell anyone else about this because I'm sure they would have no problem putting a bullet in you. So, don't worry, all of this is just between us. Also, I placed a few light snacks and drinks in the fridge for you, but I may go back out to get more- AAH!"
He shrieked when the bowl got tossed at him and shattered on the wall behind him. Striker stretched his arms, his wrist no longer cuffed, and huffed, "Shut the fuck up, ya lamb. This ain't even the worst pain I've been in."
Moxxie mumbled, "Yeah...I, uh, saw that from all the...you know," gesturing at the scars on the cowboy's body. He then slightly blanched at him no longer being cuffed, but decided that he wasn't going to do anything when he saw the imp stretch out like a cat. Dare he say, it was a little adorable.
However, that thought got cut off when he heard Striker quip, twirling the restraint on a finger, "So, handcuffs? Ya carry this around for Mildred~?"
Moxxie's face somehow turned redder as he snatched them and yelled, "N-No! Of course not! We have ones a-at- I mean, it's, I- shut up! Lay down so I can change your stupid dressing, you….scoundrel!"
Striker snorted as he lied back, "Oh, I'm wounded."
He heard Moxxie mutter a "no shit" as he then began to slowly unwrap the bandage, making Striker stiffen up subtly. He never had been taken care of by anyone, but the thought of it made him feel...oddly warm. However, it also felt like he was weak. It was a damn blade. Holy or not. He shouldn't need...
"Oh, crumbs, I left the tape in the car!" Moxxie exclaimed as he looked around frantically and instructed, "Here, just place your hand here. I'll be right back."
Striker, oddly enough, did as he was told as Moxxie ran out of the room. He looked around the nice motel room, the pot of simmering soup, and the dressing on his body. Unbeknownst to him, his tail rattled lightly as he gently purred at getting pampered. Hadn't had this kind of affection in years and it was really...nice. He couldn't wait for more.