Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

While Wrath hadn’t been his home in ages, the hot, dry air and barren landscape still brought him some comfort. Western Wrath was a little foreign to him. It was dustier and smelled worse somehow. But, his wife loved growing up here. Which made him like the landscape. If only for artistic reasons.

Millie had been wanting to go back to Wrath for the Harvest Moon Festival for a while. So, when Blitzo said the prince wanted them to join him on his excursion, she jumped at the opportunity. The Prince had offered to give them lodging, but Millie had insisted that they stay at her family's farm. So here they are: driving to Moxxie’s personal hate club.

Millie rubbed his arm, smiling sweetly, “I'm sure they'll be nicer this time around. I mean, after the beating I gave Ronny, I'm sure they’ll think twice about teasin’ you!” Her words were almost drowned out by the obnoxious screaming of Blitzo failing to sing along to his rock song. 

Moxxie smiled back, taking her hand and kissing it gently. “You were beautiful when you chokeslammed him.”

Millie giggled behind her other hand. And of course he found her half hidden grin beautiful. If putting up with his in-laws was all it took to keep that sweet thing on her face, he would willingly stay for eternity. 

Millie sighed and leaned against his shoulder. “It’s only for a week. I promise we’ll leave the day after the moon show.”

Moxxie looked out the window, seeing the ever approaching entrance gate of the Rough and Tumbleweed Ranch. “I hope you never feel this way about my father.” 

Millie gasps, “I’d never! Clinton is a wonderful father-in-law! Plus, he gives me new boots every year.” 

Moxxie rolls his eyes, “You’re too easily bribed.” He laughs when Millie playfully hits his arm.

Blitzo abruptly turns into the entrance of the Rough and Tumbleweed Ranch, causing everyone to fly to the other end of their seats. The van stops hard. Moxxie has half the mind to strangle the reckless driver for it. Said nuisance takes the keys out and hollers, “Alrighty you hillbilly shits, we’re here!”

Millie squeals and hops out of the van to meet her parents. Joe and Lin were already waiting for them right outside the farm house. Moxxie felt himself deflate a little. He composes himself before stepping out of the van to get their luggage. 

The ranch wasn’t too different from the one he grew up on. His family raised a different breed of hogs, one made especially for their leather. They used the same crossing fence design too. The smell of hogshit and sweat always disgusted him but at least he was familiar with it.

He stumbles a bit as Millie pushes him towards Joe and Lin. He smiles and politely holds out his hand, “Greetings Lin, Joe. Uh, How have things been? Millie said you had some twisters forming?”

Neither bothered to accept his hand, so it just fell limply at his side. Millie sighs discreetly. 

Joe grunts, “Lost one of our old farm hands to the flaming devils last week.”

“Oh, crumbs! I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to reopen that wound, … sir?” 

Blitzo immediately butted in, “Hey I'm the sir here, bucko!” And Moxxie was pushed to the side. He wasn’t sure if he was happy or mad about it. His in-laws were a nightmare to talk to, but he’s probably seen as weak for being so easily ignored.

The topic soon changed to war, to which when Moxxie tried to give his expertise on weapons, it was met with unamused stares. Millie gave him a sorry smile and rubbed his arm as Joe started talking again.

“Speaking of strong hands, you should meet our new help! Ay, Striker!”

Moxxie tensed at the familiar name. He knows there are plenty of “Striker”s in Wrath. It was a pretty common, if clique, name.

However, as the galloping of hooves sounded louder, and the bright lights of a hell horse came ever closer, Moxxie couldn’t help but sweat. When he saw the dark purple cowboy hat, the red bandana, the snake-like tail, he pretended that these things were also a very common combo. That snake-imp hybrids were actually super common.

He pretended up until he couldn’t. 

“Well, howdy!” Striker’s toothy smile was anything from welcoming to Moxxie. It was just a stupid confirmation that his past was still alive and kicking. And staring. Moxxie felt his hands clam up as those serpentine eyes locked with his. Expertly concealed hatred shimmering behind them. The man’s smile diminished ever slightly and Moxxie felt the same way. 

He felt a little twinge of dread when Striker complimented his wife. She deserved it, yes, but that snake shouldn't be talking to her! Shouldn’t even be around his life anymore!

Moxxie didn’t even bother to listen to Blitzo’s conversation with Striker. He just glares at the snake. When he noticed Millie’s confused expression he cooled his anger. There’s no need to bring his past drama into her family’s home. No matter how potent. 

Striker practically sauntered towards him while sporting that stupid, malicious grin. There was a menacing glint in his eyes. It was the promise of worse to come. “Moxxie, it’s-”

“It’s nice to meet you too, sir,” Moxxie says with a practiced smile. One quietly reserved for awkward people pleasing moments. In reality, it was to hide his own fear and anger. There was no fucking way he was going to let this curse back into his life. 

Striker pauses and stares. No one really notices because Blitzo, “Hey! I thought I said I'm the sir here!”

Moxxie glares at his boss, “It’s called being respectful. You could learn a thing or two about that.” He understood the irony. He could feel Striker’s glare burning the side of his face, but he refused to look him in the eye. He truly just couldn’t bring himself to do it.

Joe smiled, he looked excitedly at Striker. “You boys should join the pain games!”

That finally gets Striker’s oppressive gaze off of Moxxie as Blitzo starts hounding Joe for more details. It then turned to Millie’s display of childish anger. He knew she thoroughly enjoyed the games. Moxxie personally didn’t care much for them. Plus, Striker was most likely going to join, and he wants to be as far away from that man as possible. 

“You know there’s plenty of other activities you can do during the festival. Plus, you can still cheer your siblings and boss on!” Lin rubs Millie’s shoulder.

Moxxie felt a mild twinge of annoyance at being left out of the list. He momentarily forgot about his reservations. He places a hand on Lin’s shoulder, “You know, she could also cheer for me.” 

He almost immediately regrets it when Striker stares at him again. It makes him feel unsettled.

Joe laughs and slaps his knee. “Hah! You?”

Moxxie chooses to ignore the glare, better to not make a show of it. “Yeah, I can compete, can’t I?”

Lin elbowed him and made him wheeze in pain. Joe grins at him, “Sorry boy, but I don’t think sensitive thespian types would last very long in the games.”

Moxxie’s eye twitches, “You know, I was born here too. I’ve got some fight in me.”

He jumps slightly when he feels a clawed hand on his shoulder, rough baritone too close to his ear for comfort, “Well then, little fella, why don’t you help me wrangle one of them hogs for dinner?”

Moxxie glares at the man, but he stubbornly keeps his hand on his shoulder. He turns his glare at the hog. Its hide is much thicker than what he’s used to. Not to mention he hasn’t had to butcher a pig in a while. 

“I currently don’t have any rope for that.” He decides to say. His in-laws might think he’s weak, but at least they’ll know he’s not stupid around animals.

Striker grins down at him, “Oh really?” He removes his hand only to shove his own rope and knife into the smaller’s arms. “Then use these. If you’re really a Wrathian as you say, ya should be able to kill that sucker easily.”

Moxxie gripped the knife tight, drawing the rope around his fist, “Simple, watch me.” He chose to ignore the degrading taunts from his boss. Honesty, he was too focused on blocking Striker’s intense gaze from his mind. 

He climbs into the hog pen carefully, qnd sneaks up behind its sleeping form, preparing the rope. When he sees the hog start to stir, he jumps on the beast’s back. He loops the rope around its neck, pulls tight, and brings the knife high above his head to cleave it down in a sharp swing. 

Clang!

Moxxie blanches when the knife reflects off the shell. Fuck, wrong weak point! The hogs he grew up with had a soft part on their shell in that exact spot. He felt his anger rise as he’s thrown around by the hog. Striker must’ve known he’d make a fool of himself and set him up. 

He goes from blurred vision to dirt and hogshit real quick. Of course, Striker takes care of the pig easily. He’s always been a blasted showoff. He smiles down at Moxxie’s bruised form, a dark glint in his eyes, “You never stood a chance.” Moxxie growled up at him.

Millie neglects to follow her family into the house and helps Moxxie out of the hog pen. “You alright, Moxx?” She brushes a bit of dirt off of his shoulder.

He huffs and rubs his neck, “Just a little bruised. I'm fine.” He stares at the farm house with silent dread. Striker waltzed right on in which can only mean that he's welcome to enter whenever. And that doesn't bode well for his anxiety. Why is her family so friendly with a guy they’ve only known for a week?! Why does he have to be so charismatic?!

She frowns at him. “Are you sure you're alright? He threw you pretty hard.” 

He crosses his arms. He didn't want to bring it up to her. His past wasn't exactly something he easily explains.

Millie huffs when he doesn't respond, “I love you, Hun, but I don't think you should join the games.”

Moxxie laughed bitterly, “I kill for a living, I can handle a bit of Wrathian rage.” 

When her smile widens, even if it's showcasing pity, he gives her a kiss, taking her hand and leading her towards the house. “Come on, we can get the luggage later. I know you miss your Mama's cornbread.” 

“Hey, I'm trying to comfort you right now,” she giggles. But her smile returns and she follows him to the house. That's all Moxxie needed right now; her wonderful smile.

Moxxie expected to be drained after talking to his in-laws, but now he's in a constant state of borderline panic. Lin made a big show of handing Striker some fresh sheets and pushing him upstairs. Moxxie could tell she was trying to show Millie the ‘real men of Wrath’ as she put it many times. It wasn't the first time it's happened. He got pissed every time. The only difference here is that he was too scared to feel angry at something like a hypothetical divorce. But this sauve cowboy charming his in-laws was indeed a problem! Just not to his marriage!

Moxxie sighs through his nose. The burning hot water running over his body was a welcome distraction. He rests his head against the shower wall, rubbing his side to help ease his nervous stomach. He felt close to throwing up. 

He washes the last of the soap off his body before turning the shower off. He'd rather not deal with Sallie May yelling at him about hogging all the hot water again. 

He puts on a simple pair of sweats and a baggy T-shirt. He was heading straight to bed. He couldn't stand the idea of mingling with anyone at the moment. Too much inner turmoil. Millie gave him the go ahead. She was fine just spending time with her family. They both knew it was less awkward when he wasn't around, as much as it hurt to admit.

Moxxie grabs his damp towel and dirty clothes and walks out the bathroom. He's halfway to his and Millie's room when a rough baritone freezes him in place. “You goin’ to bed already?”

His grip on his laundry tightens as he swiftly turns around. He felt unsafe being exposed to Striker. That man was a very dangerous person when he knew him. He can only imagine how much he's improved after all these years. 

Striker was holding a towel himself, leaning against the door to the bathroom. He probably had just come up the stairs. He didn't seem to care that his question was unanswered. He just raised a brow before continuing. “Shame. Here I’d thought I'd learn more about Mrs. Mildred's assassin husband. Whom I have no recollection of.”

Moxxie feels dread wash over him. He's half tempted to just bolt right then and there, but he, mostly, composes himself. “I… Yeah, sorry. It's late.” He keeps it curt. Then he walks towards his room again, being sure to keep his front towards Striker.

“Ya know, I didn't expect someone as… soft… as you to be willing to kill.” A long, drawn out rattle.

Moxxie paused midway through opening his door. He gulped nervously. He could hear his heart pounding, the malice in those words. Not to mention the oppressive glare. Bright green rings that used to be so comforting. Now they only make him dreadful. 

Striker had all his focus on Moxxie. All his attention. It made him so fucking uneasy. 

“I'm tougher than I look,” he mumbled. Trying to defend himself half heartedly. He couldn't really do much when he's this nervous.

Neither of them had smiles on. They both knew there wasn't any room for such comradery. 

Moxxie coughed. He didn't want to be here any longer. “Night.” He didn't wait for a response, just finished opening the door and practically ran into the guestroom. He wanted to lock it, but Millie would get concerned. Instead, he immediately grabbed his gun from the nightstand and sat on the bed facing the door. He was being paranoid. He knew that. He knew that Striker wouldn't be stupid enough to attack him in a crowded home. He also knew that Striker was an excellent farmhand. Incredibly intelligent, and twice as strong. He also knew that if he wanted to, Striker could bury him and run without so much as a divot in his skin before someone found his corpse.

So, he wasn't taking any chances.

Soon enough, he heard the pipes struggling to move water. Striker had gotten in the shower. It settled him knowing the snake wasn't right outside his door, staring.

Moxxie stayed like that until he heard the cheerful humming of his wife. Hurriedly, he placed his gun back into the drawer. 

Millie carefully opened the door, being mindful of the noise she made. She was surprised to see Moxxie still awake. 

“Oh, hi Hun. I thought you were goin’ to sleep?” She closed the door behind her with a loud click.

Moxxie smiles at her. “I wasn't as tired as I thought I was. But the quiet was nice.” It felt wrong to lie to her, even if it was small.

Millie huffs, “Yeah I get it. We're a lil’ loud. ‘specially during game night.” She started her night time routine, taking off her earrings and clothes and slipping into a nightgown. “Ha! You should have seen Sallie’s face when Ronny won black jack!”

Moxxie hummed. It felt nice listening to Millie. He could feel himself calming. “I didn't realize Ronny was coming. Is his wife here too?” 

Millie rummaged around her suitcase for her skincare items. She put her hair up with a headband. “Nah, she's with her own family this time.” She walks up and kisses Moxxie on the lips, “Im’a go wash up then I'll be back for bed. Love ya.” 

Moxxie smiles wide, he felt content with her near. “I love you too.”

He lays down as he watches her leave. He didn't like her leaving, but he also didn't feel as nervous anymore. It didn't take more than thirty minutes before Millie was back in his arms.

Hot.

Loud.

Fuck, it hurts.

It's too bright. Everything is bathed in a horrid green light.

Too much screaming.

Stuff is falling, it's making the green larger, brighter.

The screaming gets louder.

Too much. Too loud. Too hot. It burns. Fuck, it really hurts. Where's Mama? She'd make this all go away…

Mama…

Moxxie's eyes shoot open. He takes a shaky breath. His surroundings were dark. They weren't green and distorted. They were solid, tangible.

He sits up slowly, careful not to awake Millie's snoring form. She was wrapped tightly around his midsection. 

He wipes the sweat off his brow and huffs. Of course the nightmares had to return full force. He knew they were happening because Striker was here. The hot, dry air didn't help though. Moxxie was used to keeping the room cool. Even if Millie took all the comforters, it helped to soothe his nerves.

Looking out the window, the sky was still dark, but dawn seemed near. He could hear the light footsteps of people moving around the house. Getting ready to work. Ah, he forgot about all the chores he'd have to do. They'll probably have him scooping pig shit for the whole week. 

Millie grunts in her sleep, turning over to lie on her back instead of by Moxxie's hip. He laughs lightly at her antics. It did make it easier to get up though. He stretches as he stands up, yawning wide. Well, he'd rather get the day started and forget about his nightmares for now. 

Even if one is only a room over.

Moxxie got dressed quickly, before heading downstairs. Millie was sure to wake up soon on her own, so he let her sleep a little longer. The smell of coffee was welcoming. Lin and Joe were sitting in the living room. Lin had one of her trashy soap operas on. They paid him no mind, as always. He quietly poured himself a cup of coffee. He also made one for Millie. 

He had to admit, mornings in Wrath were calming. People were too tired to argue and fight, and there was no noise or light pollution to give him a headache. It didn't last long, but these quiet moments were his favourite.

Like he predicted, Millie comes down after five minutes. He hears her greet her parents mid yawn before she walks into the kitchen and her sleepy eyes locked with his. Her smile is small and tired. She wasn't a morning person.

Moxxie holds out her coffee mug, “Good morning, my love.”

She kisses him as she takes her coffee cup. “Mornin’.” 

Moxxie hums contently, “Your hair’s a mess.” 

Millie smacks his arm with her tail. “Careful, Pa will beat you if he hears you bein’ mean to his little girl.” 

Moxxie snorts, “I would totally win that fight.” 

Millie takes a big sip of her coffee and eyes him playfully, “Sure, hun.” She kisses his cheek before heading to the fridge. She calls out, “I'll make breakfast today!” 

Lin yells back, “Thanks sweetie!” 

Moxxie smiles and turns the stove on for her as she pulls out a carton of eggs and some bacon. She points towards the bread with her tail. “Mind makin’ the toast?”

He nods and grabs the loaf. The toaster is rather old, and it takes longer to cook than it should, but it gets the job done. He's done a little sooner than Millie, so he just sits there, enjoying her presence.

Everyone has come out of their rooms and gotten either coffee or some other drink. The living room is loud with laughter and conversation. Moxxie mourns the quiet he had waking up.

When his cup runs low he's tempted to get a refill. He almost automatically grabs the pot before deciding better on it. He'd be a jittery mess if he had anymore. Caffeine and anxiety don't mix well. 

As he sets the pot back down, he feels the hair on the back of his neck stand.

He's staring at him again.

Striker taps his finger against the kitchen table. “Mornin’.”

Millie smiles at him, she's currently finishing up with the eggs. “Oh, mornin’ Striker. You staying for breakfast?”

The snake nods, “Yes, ma’am. Mrs. Lin asked me to.” His gaze barely left Moxxie. He didn't need to. Millie was looking at the food. He grins to himself, “You mind makin’ me a cup, little dude?”

Moxxie almost doesn't register that he's being asked something. “Uh, yeah. No problem.” He grabs a cup and pours the coffee, moving on auto pilot. 

Millie finally turns away from the food, “I didn't get to ask last night, but how long were you planning to work here?” She's gotten her usual cheer back now that she's woken up properly. 

Striker smiles charmingly, his gaze reluctantly now on her. “Just the week. I'm fillin’ in my time till the usual job opens back up.” 

Moxxie pauses. He can only guess what his usual job means. Does this mean Striker's not currently trying to kill someone? Or is he bluffing? 

Millie sighs, “Hah, I remember those days! Goin' from job to job just to pay rent.” 

Striker hums in agreement. 

Moxxie didn't like how easily Striker was befriending his family. He grabs the coffee mug and sets it on the table. Purposefully not letting Striker get close to him. “Here.” 

Striker’s gaze was heavy. He carefully takes a sip and his eyebrows raise. He chuckles, and Moxxie can't help but hear the underlying saltiness. “Exactly how I make it. Hm, if I didn't know any better I'd’ve think yer the housewife.”

Moxxie felt his anger rise a bit. He doesn't dignify the insult with a response. He just crosses his arms and glares at the floor.

Millie laughs awkwardly before turning the stove off. “Breakfast is ready!”

Moxxie sighs through his nose. Keeping his gaze on the floor as Millie fetches her family. It's a stressful twenty-three seconds where she's gone and he's left alone with the serpent. That gaze doesn't leave him for a second, but his focus is solely on counting the imperfections in the kitchen tile. 

Blitzo storms into the kitchen first as expected. “About time! I'm fucking starving!” 

Striker smiles and grabs three plates, handing one to Blitzo with a wide grin, “Here ya go, bossman. You got first pick.” 

Blitzo's smile matches his, “Damn straight!” He immediately goes for the eggs.

Moxxie frowns as Striker nears him. The snake leans down a bit and holds out the plate. There's an almost challenging look in his eyes. “Moxxie.” 

At the same time, Millie and her folks walk in. Moxxie sees Joe scoff. It kind of looks as though Moxxie was too childish to get his own plate. Needing Striker to hand it to him.

Moxxie begrudgingly takes the plate, embarrassment warms his cheeks. “Thanks…”

Striker’s tail rattled as he moved to get his own plate. Moxxie decides to get his food after everyone else goes. At the table, Ronny and Sallie May hogged Millie’s sides, with their two other brothers sitting to Sallie's left. Joe and Lin sit next to each other on Ronny’s right with Striker taking a seat next to Blitzo. Moxxie sits at the only remaining seat in between Blitzo and Loona. 

Everyone enjoys the food. Thanking Millie for the hard work. Moxxie chuckles seeing Millie smile so pridefully. 

Joe finishes his plate first, resting his hand on his stomach. “That was good, Pumpkin. I forgot how good yer scrambled eggs are.”

Millie giggled, “They're just eggs Pa, anyone can make ‘em.” 

“You make ‘em special though. Rivals yer mama’s omelets.” 

Lin scoffs at her husband's antics. Sallie May chortles, “Ha! I don't think anyone can beat Ma’s cooking.”

For all the venom he was greeted with, Millie’s family was a good family to themselves. It just made it even harder for Moxxie to ignore their taunts because he desperately hoped to become a part of this tight knit circle. 

Striker clears his throat, nodding to the window. “I don't mean to interrupt, but I should probably get out to the fields.”

Lin smiles and sighs, “Oh, no, yer right, it's about that time. It's always good to see a man with a strong work ethic.” Moxxie can hear the implied comparison between them well and clear. 

Lin clasps her hands together, “That reminds me anyways,” she turns to Blitzo, who was stacking his eggs on top of each other, “Since y'all are stayin’ here, you're gonna need to help out around the farm.”

Blitzo squeals, “Can I feed the horses?!”  

Lin laughs, “Well, I was thinking a strong man like you could help us with the hay bales. We need’a take some into town to sell.” 

Blitzo sighs dramatically. Millie huffs at him, “You can meet the horses later.” He sticks his tongue out at her disappointed.

Moxxie clears his throat, “Is there anything you need me to do ma’am?”

Most everybody scoffs at him. Joe points his fork at him, “I don't trust city folk around my machines.”

“I grew up on a farm.” The thespian frowns. Blitzo is more of a city boy than he is for fuck’s sake!

“But it was on the east side. That ain't true country.” Joe glared. 

Blitzo whistles, “They really hate your scrawny ass, huh?” Moxxie felt his eye twitch. Striker was staring at him again, and Moxxie didn't like that stupid grin forming on his face.

Millie warns, “Pa, we talked about this.” 

Joe groans, waving his hand dismissively, “Eh, just feed the hogs. It's too simple a task for you to fuck up.”

Striker stands up, “Don't worry sir, I'll show him around. Make sure nothing goes wrong.”

Joe nods approvingly, “I appreciate the initiative.” 

Moxxie froze, eyes widening. He's going to be with Striker all day? Alone? Blitzo pokes his cheek, to which he hisses. “Damn, you really need a chaperone at your grown age?” Loona snickers. 

“Refrain, sir.” Moxxie half growls.

Blitzo seems a little taken back by his aggressiveness. Sure, Moxxie gets mad at his taunts but he's never been this touchy. Did he actually just growl right now? “What's got you so pissed?” He mumbles.

Joe dismisses the table. Everyone puts their plates up and grabs their keys, jackets, hats. Loona immediately slinks off to hide away from chores, and Blitzo pretends not to notice.

Moxxie rubs his forehead, he can already feel a migraine forming. Not to mention his stomach is in knots. 

Millie places a hand on Moxxie's shoulder. “You okay, Hun? You seem nervous.”

He smiles at her, kissing her cheek. “I'm fine. Have fun with your family.”

Millie smiles back with a sigh, “I will. I love you.” 

“I love you too.” Moxxie mumbles as she walks away to join her mother and Blitzo outside.

Striker was waiting at the entrance of the house. With his hat on and no direct sunlight, his entire face was in shadows. It made Moxxie even more nervous.

The snake smiles down at him, “Don't lag behind. I won't wait just ‘cause ya get tired.” 

Moxxie's tail flicks in annoyance. “My endurance is fine.” He walks past Striker and out the door. He places his own hat on. It wasn't too bright yet, the sun had just risen, but by midday the whole land would be uncomfortably bright and hot.

Striker shuts the door behind them. “Right. The assassination thing must keep you fit.”

Moxxie fixes his cuffs, doing everything he could to not look Striker in the eyes. “Where's the feed silo?”

Striker stretches his neck, walking down the porch stairs, “Just follow me.” 

Moxxie eyes the truck that Blitzo and Millie were getting into. Soon enough, Loona would be the only person he can really trust on the farm. But she held no urgency in acting as the guard dog of the group. Too glued to her phone to do much anything. And that just made him even more apprehensive. He follows Striker begrudgingly.

The Rough and Tumbleweed Ranch was known for its excellent wheat products. But they also have a small supply of hogs that they keep mainly for their own nutrition. Safe to say, the entire property was rather spread out. It took a while to walk from place to place. 

The walk to the feed silo was uncomfortable. Moxxie stayed two steps behind Striker at all times it felt unsafe to leave his back exposed to such a dangerous man. He would've been just fine with walking in silence, but of course Striker just had to ruin it.

“So, yer family works with leather?” Striker's face was hidden from Moxxie's perspective, but he could hear the grin. Was he serious? They didn't need to keep this charade up in private!

“Uh, yes.” he glares at the snake’s back. 

Striker grabs a wheat stalk with his tail. He places it into his mouth. It pisses Moxxie off how familiar he was with the man's habits. Striker chuckles, “Then what're ya doing in the city killin’ for Sinners?”

“...” Shut up already!

“What? I'm just bein’ friendly? You can't even get along with your folk’s employees?”

“... It burned down.”

“How strange. My first place of work also burned down. It was on the east side too.” Striker turns his head to stare at Moxxie, his grin was wide but his eyes held such malice it made Moxxie's blood run cold. Striker has no reason to hide his hatred with no one around. Moxxie looks at the wheat fields around them instead. 

He felt two seconds away from a vein bursting. “Wild fires are pretty common in Wrath.”

Striker hums, the green rings in his eyes thickening. His tail rattles when Moxxie doesn't look at him. He turns back around.

They walk in silence for a couple more minutes. With wheat fields on either side of them, Moxxie feels rather trapped yet exposed. It was causing all sorts of warning signals to crossfire in his brain. Eventually, the wheat fields turn into hog pens and the feed silo pops into view. 

The hogs were congregating near the barn entrance. Moxxie suspected it was their usual feeding time. He wasn't exactly given enough information on how Joe runs his farm. Hell, he was barely even given a job.

Walking towards the silo, Moxxie could tell it was the same model used all over Wrath. Which meant he didn't need anyone showing him how to work things.

“I can go ahead and do this myself. I'm sure you have stuff you need to do.” 

Striker's gaze sharpens onto his. Moxxie almost looks away again. It felt dangerous to lock eyes. “No can do. Gave my word to Mr. Joseph that I'd watch you.”

Moxxie's eye twitches. He's not a child. And this is actually something he's grown up doing. “I know how to work a silo. It's barely any work.”

Striker leans forward. He grins when Moxxie steps back. “Well, I can't just go around ignoring the boss's orders, now can I?”

Moxxie's tail hits the ground in annoyance. This guy sure had a lot of nerve! “Right.” His frown only grew as Striker's gaze stayed glued to his. It was as if he was sizing up his prey. 

He turns around and walks the final few feet to the silo. The lever to open the discharge gate was a good couple of feet off the ground. Which made no sense considering most imps were barely taller than he was. 

A rattle shook the air, “What? Ya can't pull a simple lever?” 

Moxxie chose to ignore him. The lever was high off the ground, yes, but Moxxie could reach it if he stood on the tips of his hoofs. He reaches up and grabs hold of the lever. Pulling on it proved to be futile as the lever barely budged. He needed more leverage than his fingertips got him. 

Striker chewed on his straw with discontent, “This is pathetic, even from you.”

Moxxie's face heats up from embarrassment. This was the last person he wanted to appear weak in front of. “Shut up, you don't know me.” 

“Apparently.” 

Moxxie doesn't turn to face him. He doesn't see the pure vitriol and disdain in the cowboy's eyes. The man’s tone was silky smooth, and gave nothing away as always. 

Moxxie spies a step stool by the barn where the feeding tube runs into the hogs’ troughs. That must be what everyone uses. Using it, he can properly get a grip on the lever and pull it down. The hogs all start snorting when they hear the feed quickly pour into the troughs. Looking through one of the barn's windows, Moxxie can see when they need to shut it off. He closes the discharge gate and puts the step ladder back in its place. The sky was significantly lighter now. He estimates it to be around eight or so.

He stands still for a moment. Now what? He doesn't have any more chores to do. 

Striker’s tail rattles and he spits his wheat stalk out of his mouth. “Happy now, city boy?” 

Moxxie looks over his shoulder at him carefully. Moxxie felt uneasy being alone with Striker. With the Harvest Moon Festival coming up, most of the workers are either doing upkeep on the grass field on the front of the property or preparing for the second half of the Harvest season. That left barely anyone out here in the farthest parts of the farm. Moxxie's sure he only saw two people on his way here.

He's about to respond when the snake's phone rings. He takes out an old flip phone and answers almost immediately. “Ma'am?”

Moxxie stands there awkwardly. Striker just stares at him as he talks to the lady on the phone. She's too quiet for Moxxie to hear anything, but by the way Striker responds, he assumes she's a manager of sorts.

“Yes ma’am, I'll be over right away.” He shuts the phone close and places it back into his breast pocket. “I've got work to do.”

“Okay.” Maybe he could explore the farm more?

Striker lowered his hat. He stares pointedly at Moxxie. “Don’t fall behind.” 

Or yeah, just play lost dog.

Moxxie crosses his arms. Every single aspect of this snake was sending warning shivers down his spine. But Moxxie didn't want to cause any more problems with his in-laws. So, he trailed behind Striker as he walked away. Making sure to keep at least five feet of space between them this time.

This did give him a chance to stare at Striker, though. To actually see all the slight changes about him. He somehow managed to get even taller. Moxxie suspects it's his boots. His clothing wasn't all that different, but the cropped jacket was new. Not to mention Striker had actually combed his hair and it seems like he's finally gotten around to polishing his horns. He seemed more put together. The bandana was the same. The same red, worn out cloth he's always worn. It was kind of endearing seeing Striker grow into it. It used to completely engulf his lower face when they were younger. 

Moxxie found himself frowning, again. Things were pretty different back then. It all seemed so insignificant, the world and its problems. They didn't have to worry about stuff like that, all they needed to do was grow, play. And then they got older.

Dark looks. Growls. Harsh fights. 

It was all bound to end up in a dumpster fire from the beginning. For fuck’s sake, Striker was basically just a bully their whole friendship. A pushy and sadistic mess of a teenager. But Moxxie couldn't help but feel sad about the whole falling out. About the way it all ended. How the whole town just- how he-

Moxxie squeaks as he accidentally runs into Striker's back. A loud rattling sent him flying back. Striker stares down at him with a charming smile.

He can hear his blood pumping. Did getting that close really have to make him this nervous?! 

Moxxie must've spaced out. He mentally beats himself up for it. There's no doubt he left many openings for Striker to have used. And that was sloppy of him. He carefully fixes his hat and bowtie. Fidgeting with his attire to ignore the unwanted attention. At least now they were surrounded by the other farm hands. 

Striker keeps staring until a short, but built, she-imp walks over to them. He tips his hat at her, “Ma’am. You said you were having problems with the horses?”

Miss Caulder shrugs, “Eh, only a few of ‘em.

Especially yours, real spit fire that mare.”

The stables weren't huge or anything, but they were well taken care of. It was mainly just the hog wranglers that rode horseback, so there wasn't any need to have a big stable. 

Striker chuckles, “Ah, so Bombproof’s givin’ you trouble?” 

“We’re just tryin’ to feed her but she's refusing to let anyone near her. It's causing the other horses to get antsy,” she snorts. 

Moxxie stopped fidgeting with his cuffs for a second to stare at the open barn. It's been a while since he last interacted with horses. He misses his terribly. When he moved to Pride, he had to let Oasis go. It was for the best. He didn't want to subject her to life in a crowded city. Oasis was sweet. Well, more accurately, she was tolerable of his presence. 

Moxxie hummed, it felt wrong to just stand there like some child, “I can help out as well.” 

Miss Caulder eyes him with a scoff, “You'd just spook ‘em.”

Striker snickers. Moxxie fumes at how naturally charming it is. “How many times do I have to say this- I grew up in wrath! With a horse, mind you. I know how to feed one.”

Miss Caulder snorts again, “I'll believe that when hell freezes over!” 

Every single time he comes to this cursed place his ego gets bruised. That's fine. It's a fact. But now it hurts so much more with Striker there. His past staring him down with bright green rings and a carefully hidden snear.

Striker places a hand on Moxxie's shoulder, causing him to stiffen, “Ain't no harm in letting him follow me around. Mr. Joseph's orders anyways.” 

Orders my ass! You willingly volunteered to drag me around like I'm your dumb doll! Moxxie internally seethed.

Miss Caulder raised a brow and sighed, “Such a waste having our best worker play babysitter. Well, you just go ahead and feed yer damn horse. We've got shit to do.” 

Striker nods before half dragging Moxxie towards the stables. Every second longer he's touching him, his heart races faster. Those claws carefully dug in and wrinkled his shirt, indenting his skin. He felt trapped.

“Can you let go?” 

Striker ignores him, dragging him past snickering farm workers and towards one of the stalls near the back. 

Moxxie squawks when he's haphazardly pushed towards the stall door. He grabs onto the edge to stop himself from smacking right into it. He pales when he sees Bombproof snort at him. She huffs and stomps her front hoof at him till he backs up. Moxxie laughs nervously. Well she's certainly still very big and very dangerous.

“Sit tight.” Striker walks off to grab Bombproof's food presumably. 

Moxxie just nods rather dumbly. It's been a while since he's seen the mare. She's never really cared for him. Besides maybe becoming her next meal. 

Striker comes back with a wheelbarrow of meat. He grabs a piece and throws it into her stall. Bombproof huffs at it.

Moxxie couldn't help himself, “She hates gruel like this. This looks like it's been rotting for a week.”

Striker eyes him quietly. “Nightmares prefer rotting flesh.” Bombproof huffs at the comment, stamping her hoof down.

Moxxie keeps staring at Bombproof. “Usually, but she was always…” 

A long drawn out rattle. 

Shit, he's messed up. Moxxie quickly looks at the wall. He feels sweat beading on his neck. 

“She’s very obviously rejecting the meat. My horse was like that too,” he tries to save.

“Bombproof was rather spoiled growin’ up.” The snake’s eyes narrow, green glow dancing across his face. “Though, I have yer family to blame for that.”

Moxxie stares quietly. Striker stares back with a wide grin. He looks charming as ever. Even with the few people around, he’s trying to keep his calm and collected act up. Even if they all hate Moxxie, it's best not to let his utter hatred show. It would seem unusual considering they're supposed to have met only yesterday. And he can't have his true profession being brought to light.

Bombproof huffs at them again. She grabs the meat in her stall and throws it over the gate. Striker's tail rattles. He picks it up again and shoves it into her stall, “There ain't nothin’ else around.” 

The mare flicks her ears back, annoyed with the challenging look from her rider. The two stare at each other for a minute before Bombproof reluctantly starts eating the mushy meat. The other horses quickly follow suit. Seems that in the short time they've been here, Bombproof has already solidified her role as leader.

Striker's tuts and he turns his head to stare at Moxxie's slightly panicked expression. “Yer terrible at this disguise bullshit.”

Moxxie glares at him. “Striker.”

Striker pauses. He stares down at Moxxie with a rattle.

He can feel sweat beading on his neck. No one besides themselves were currently in the stables. “I need to know if you're here to kill any of Millie’s family.” 

Striker chuckles cruelly, “Don’chya think yer bein’ a lil’ too familiar, little dude?”

“Just answer me.” 

“...”

The snake steps forward, he steps back. 

“I don't need to tell you anythin’ now do I?”

Another step forward, another back. 

“I'll come to my own conclusions if you don't answer.” His heart starts to race. 

His back hits the stall wall.

Striker cages him in with his arms. “And what would those conclusions be, hm?”

The rings in his eyes widened. Moxxie's pupil slitted. 

“I'd have to kill you.”

Moxxie would've drawn his gun at this point, but how would he explain that? It wasn't exactly a good idea here. Striker easily could've grabbed his hand at such close range. They both knew that. They also both knew that Moxxie wouldn't have pulled the trigger anyway.

A loud rattle. The wood creaks with his grip. Both glare at each other equally hostile.

“I couldn't care less if it's anyone else. Just not Millie’s family.”

This was the distinct scent of fear… but it was mixed with challenge. The rings in Striker's eyes widen. That's new. 

He leans in with a hiss. “If I wanted yer lil’ family dead, they'd've been buried last week.” 

Moxxie’s hands shake at the close proximity. Striker was too close. It was setting off all of his instincts. 

“Like I said before, I'm just passin’ my time.”

Moxxie lets out a breath when Striker finally moves away. His hands were shaking. His eyes trained on Striker. He's hyper aware of every little movement and of every exit.

Striker could be lying. Moxxie still doubted that he wasn't here to kill someone, but he was right. Striker was never a very patient person. He probably would've killed whoever he needed to by now. Unless…

Was he here for Stolas? 

Striker crosses his arms and glares down at him. A farmhand passes by carrying some boards and a tool box. Striker greets him in passing as if their whole exchange didn't just happen.

Moxxie scoffs internally. No, that's not possible. He was arrogant, yes, but he knew he couldn't kill a royal with just any weapon. Angelic weapons were inaccessible to imp kind. Basically a fairytale. Moxxie only knew of them from books and shittily made replicas that held no spells. The only place to get such weapons was from the elite. And they were either too scared to kill Paimon’s son, or they'd only hire the “better” species. There was no way Striker could get his hands on such things. 

Striker stares at the worker as he walks away. “We'll talk later. You go back to the house. I don't need to be babysittin’ yer ass.”

Moxxie ignores how much it sounded like an order. He was just grateful to get away. Honestly he had no idea if he could’ve been able to make it being around Striker for the rest of the day.

Chapter Text

{...2 days pass}

Millie’s family, the Mays, have been hosting the Harvest Moon Festival on their property for a few years now. The festival brings in a lot of traffic and notoriety. It makes it much easier to sell their own harvest and get a better selection of workers for the next season.

The prince won't arrive until the last day of the festival, which lasts about a week. As they pass the time, people enjoy some of the traveling caravans, food trucks, and game stands until the prince curses them. Then the festivities calm down as people go home to celebrate with their families.

The Pain Games were at the end of the week, but there were plenty of things similar to it in the days leading up to it. Pull up stations, arm wrestling, brawls. Most of the time they weren't even a planned event! Just drunkards trying to assert their dominance. 

Moxxie ducks to the side to avoid the shoe being kicked off by Sallie May. He can't help but get annoyed, this was the third fight she's started this day! And it's not like he could voice any complaints. The family would just see him as weak. But pointless fights like these were such a waste of time!

At the very least, Millie seemed happy. She pulled him along to most of the booths. He got to play some of the more technical games while she used her beautiful strength to win whichever wrestling or lifting or anything competitions. And it was different from uncouth brawls! She wasn't just starting fights with strangers for shits and giggles. She took the time to respect her opponents by (mostly) playing by the rules of the game. And she'd yet to kill anyone! 

Millie grabs Moxxie's hand, “Let's hurry, Hun. Blitz said to meet before lunch started.”

Moxxie winces as Sallie gets punched hard, “Shouldn't we stay? Like, as back up?”

Millie snorts, “Trust me, she’ll be fine. My family doesn't raise slackers.” She pulls lightly at his hand, “Now, come on before she pulls us into it too.”

Moxxie follows her through the crowd. She's right, and Blitzo getting annoyed was not anything he wanted to deal with right now. 

It takes them all of five minutes to get to the stage. Currently, some up and coming mariachi band was playing. The area was kind of crowded. The pain games were still being set up to the side of the stage and bleachers so many were looking to see what they should watch out for when they play.

Blitzo was sitting at the base of the bleachers, kicking rocks. Loona had managed to sneak away from their “daddy-daughter time” ages ago. He lights up once he sees his employees walking towards him.

He shoots up, “Finally! I'm fucking starving!”

Moxxie rolls his eyes, “Sir, we're right on time.”

“Are you trying to dismiss my hunger?” He makes puppy eyes at him. “You want me to die Mox?” 

Millie snickers at them behind her hand. Moxxie scoffs, “Let's just go. I am quite hungry.”

Blitzo turns his head and crosses his arms, goofy smile barely suppressed, “Oh so starvation matters only when you're the one suffering.”

Moxxie's eye twitches. Usually the constant taunting would only make him annoyed, but with everything happening, he just feels pissed off.

Millie slaps her boss's arm, “Oh, please, you were practically impersonatin’ Beelzebub at breakfast!”

“Hey! It's not my fault eating your mom's pancakes is like having ten orgasms but in your mouth!”

Millie’s face scrunches, “Don't say that about my Ma’s cooking.”

“Yeah, well, it's true!” Blitzo starts walking towards the food trucks. “Now hurry up, I've been dying to try a Wrathian taco.”

Millie huffs, “You didn't like my tacos, what makes ya think you'll like these?” 

“Shh, you don't have the same tools as a wonderful food truck does.”

“Old crusty oil? Rusty stove?”

“Exactly!”

“...”

Moxxie followed behind the two arguing. Moments like these were appreciated. With his anger much more easily triggered, he's actually glad to get ignored for a bit. It lets him calm down.

It took about thirty minutes to get their food, twenty of it just waiting in line. Blitzo, as Millie suspected, did not like his tacos. So, he stole some of Millie's fries and a chicken skewer from Moxxie. Moxxie didn't mind because he took the remaining taco after Blitzo stubbornly ate the first one. 

Blitzo shoves another fry into his mouth, “So, you still doing the pain games? Or have you finally come to your senses about how small you are?” He smirks at his terrible innuendo.

Moxxie's brow twitches. “I’m perfectly capable of finishing the games.” He pauses. “But no, I'm not participating.”

Millie looks surprised and a little relieved. Usually, Moxxie was too stubborn to change his mind about something like this. “Ah, really?”

“Yeah. I'm just not that interested in doing it.” Moxxie takes another bite off of his skewer. 

Blitzo smiles wide, resting his head on his hands like a schoolgirl. “Is it because of that actually masculine, hotshot cowboy?”

Moxxie pauses mid bite, eyes widening. He cringes inside at how just alluding to Striker makes him freeze like a prey animal.

Blitzo laughs, “It is! You've been so aggressive towards each other! Hah! Though, I thought your big ass ego would make you try to one up him.”

He rubs the side of his face and sighs, “Sir…” He's already done with this conversation.

Blitzo pokes him playfully, “Yeah! You've been pissier than a feral slut at the local pub. You really that threatened by someone with a bigger cock than you?”

Millie kicks Blitzo under the table, and coughs intently. 

Blitzo blows raspberries, “Fine I won't press! I'm just trying to be a good boss, you know. Help with all your mental-ego bullshit.” He steals another fry. 

Millie crosses her arms over the table. “Blitz is right though. Is he really gettin’ to you that bad?”

“I’m fine, Millie. I just don't want to get into pointless fights.” He couldn't spring this upon her right now. And most definitely not in front of Blitzo.

Millie sighs, she's worried. Moxxie has been rather on edge lately. It wasn't unusual for her family to bring “strong and fine specimens” around when they visited. There's been plenty of “Striker’s” so to say. And while Moxxie did get worked up about them, he's never been this anxious about one. He's always doing his best to stay far away from him actually. And when they are near each other he gets snippy. 

He keeps acting like Striker is a dangerous enemy. He's always on alert, always cautious. Millie hasn't seen any behaviour that screams foe from the cowboy. Sure he taunts, gets a bit pushy too, but it wasn't anything Moxxie and she weren't used to. 

Moxxie was clearly getting more nervous the longer this conversation went on. So Millie resigns her questions for later, “Well, I'm full. I wanna go try that ring toss game again. I know for fact that I can get them all!”

Blitzo snorts, “Nah, you throw them too hard.” 

Millie slaps his side with her tail, “Hmph, I'm a lady. I can get it to a sweet spot.” She collects her trash. 

“I'm betting fifty souls that you won't make it within three tries.”

“Then I guess I'm making an easy fifty.”

Moxxie smiles at their antics. He's sure Millie's going to hound him for answers later, but he's thankful she understands him enough to wait. 

And he understands her enough to know she'll keep falling for the ring toss scam. Though he admittedly can't claim he's any different. He's been eyeing one of the shooting games near the front. It seemed to be one of the only ones that couldn't be cheated. Granted, you had to use the gun they provided, but it was just shooting glass bottles. It was simple. 

Blitzo snickers as Millie's final ring bounces off the side of the bottle. 

“Well, sorry lil’ lady. Fresh outta rings.” The stall attendee states. He smiles wide. She's poured at least sixty souls into this damn booth.

Millie huffed, “Just give me-”

“Millie,” Moxxie laughed, they've been here for the past thirty minutes.

“But-”

He gives her a pointed look. Blitzo grabs her by the back of her shirt and then promptly starts dragging her away from the booth, “There's only so much of this sadness I can watch, Mills. Even when it's an easy cash cow.” He smirks.

Millie growls at him and swats his hand away. “Whatever! It's rigged anyway!” 

Moxxie snickers, “There’s plenty of other things we can-” 

“Oh look!” Blitzo cuts him off, “The stalls are open again!” 

“Sir-” 

“Shut it Moxx. I just had to sit through thirty painful minutes of failure, I deserve this!” 

Millie glares at him but marches off towards the stables anyway. Blitzo follows behind excitedly. Moxxie sighs under his breath. He's sure he'll have a headache by the end of the day.

The stables were… Well, it was a temporary building to say the least. It shook with every light wind, the gates on the stalls were barely locked, and the whole thing screamed if you put any of your weight on the walls. The horses were surprisingly calm. Well as calm as any Nightmare can be. It wasn't exactly a bad exhibit. It's just that the people in it… Specifically one of the handlers…

Striker was very obviously charming a few of the girls that were passing through. Being every bit a gentleman and rugged asshole he pretended he was. 

Moxxie eyes him warily. He's half tempted to excuse himself. 

When the cowboy catches sight of the trio he smirks and excuses himself from the lady. Her surrounding “friends” all discard their sweet faces and growl at her afterwards. 

Striker laughs, “Why, this oughta be yer third time comin’ in here, boss man.”

Blitzo was smiling at one of the geldings and half mindedly waved at the cowboy, “Uh huh, yeah hi. Kind of busy.”

Millie kicks Blitzo's boot. “Heh, sorry. He gets distracted by them beasts easily.” Blitzo sticks his tongue out at her.

Striker shakes his head, “Ain't no problem here, Ma’am. The horses are very mesmerizin’.”

Blitzo reaches out tentatively towards the gelding. The horse growls at him and he retracts his hand with a frown. “I haven't been able to pet any of them…”

Moxxie crosses his arms, “Nightmares aren't pets, Sir. They're barely domesticated.” 

Striker’s gaze quickly falling onto the thespian. It's still uncomfortable. 

Blitzo turns around quickly, spooking the horse a little. “Is Bombproof pettable?” 

Striker grins, “Hah, mares are even more volatile than stallions. You'd have to get her used to you first.”

Striker looks him up and down, “Though I'm sure she'd be fine with someone of yer caliber.” 

Blitzo blushes slightly, “Well, I am a pretty awesome assassin. Nightmares do like death don't they?”

Seeing Striker casually flirt and charm his boss was strange. It reminded him too much of how Striker would live his life causing trouble and then charm his way out of it. Usually getting Moxxie involved somehow. He felt nauseous. He didn't need to be reliving the past right now. Hell, he doesn't need to be talking to this slippery asshole right now! 

He clears his throat, “We should go, there's a line forming.” 

Blitzo shushes him, “Can it with the rivalry Moxxie, I'm trying to score myself a ride.” 

Moxxie's eye twitches. “Right.” 

Blitzo looks kind of concerned at Moxxie's sharp response. No rebuttal? Really?

Moxxie turns to Millie and kisses her on the cheek. “I'm gonna go wait at the front of the festival if you want to stay.” 

The rings in Striker's eyes narrow at their affection.

Millie smiles at the kiss, “Nah, I'll come with ya. I don't need to see B whorin’ himself out for a small chance of pettin’ a horse.” 

Blitzo gasps at the insult, “Hey! He offered first!”

Millie stuck her tongue out at him. She grabs Moxxie's hand before smiling at Striker, “Nice seein’ you.”

Striker tips his hat, “You too, Miss,” he looks at Moxxie with concerning focus, “Little dude.”

Moxxie just nods curtly before speed walking away, Millie in tow.

Once outside the stables, Moxxie sighs briefly. His pace doesn't slow down until Millie pulls at his hand. 

She smiles wearily, “You alright sweetie?” 

“Yeah, I'm fine.” 

There's a moment of quiet.

“...Are you sure?”

Moxxie sighs again, “Millie, I'm fine.”

“Well it doesn't really seem to be like that.” Her brow furrows.

“Can we not do this here?”

Millie huffs, “Moxxie…”

“Please?”

“... Later, though?”

“Later.”

Millie squeezes his hand with a smile, “Okay.”

The walk in silence for a few minutes. He’s sure she’s staying quiet and not filling the silence with small talk to give him some time to calm his nerves. He’s just now realizing how weird this must be for Millie. He’s not sure he’s ever been this volatile in front of her.

Moxxie spots the shooting game he saw earlier. His finger itches. Having an excuse to shoot something sounded wonderful right now. He always loved going out to the shooting range to blow off some steam. For some reason, the May’s don't have one on their farm. Maybe it was an Eastern thing.

“Millie, do you mind if I play a few rounds?” He asks hesitantly.

Millie looks at the booth skeptically, still a little riled up from her earlier attempts at the ring toss. “Go for it.” 

Moxxie walks up to the booth and hands over ten souls. The receptionist gives him a janky mess of a gun with nine bullets. The pieces are so mismatched and rusted he has no idea what model it was or is currently. Still, it seemed to shoot fine for the people before him.

“If you break all six bottles you get a prize.” The young woman said. She seemed impatient. Most likely waiting for her break so she could sneak off with her friends.

Moxxie muttered, “Simple enough.” 

He raises the nightmare of a gun up and fires. The first bullet skirted to the right. The second also. Moxxie adjusts his aim to account for it.

BANG!!

He hit the bottle on the far right dead center, shattering it to tiny pieces. He continues shooting each bottle in order from right to left. Millie claps with a big smile and a small holler. But, when he gets to the last bottle, the bullet skews left. 

He curses under his breath. He only has one bullet left, and he's not entirely sure which direction it might skew now. 

He raises the gun back to its original position. It's really just a gamble now. He decides he's too tired to overanalyze it. 

Bang!

The bullet fires, and it… hits the bottle but bounces off. The bottle does crack, but something went wrong in the gun’s firing mechanism that caused a lack-luster propulsion.

…

What?!

Millie gasps while Moxxie just sits there in a silent rage. He's too tired to even try to backtalk the receptionist. 

Millie on the other hand, “Oh that's totally rigged!” 

The girl just shrugs. “Every game here has a bit of luck to it. Guess you're just unlucky,” she taunts with a smirk, “Maybe you'll get it next try.” 

Moxxie rubs the bridge of his nose, holding a hand up to stop Millie from going off. “No, I'll just-” 

BANG!!

His heart races as the crimson revolver is lowered slowly. His ears ring with how close the gun was to him. Was that-?! That gun used to be his!

Striker, uncomfortably close, raises a brow at the thespian, “Ya need to actually shoot the bottle, ya’know?”

“I…” 

“Hm, ain't no problem. We've all got flaws,” he said with a grin, “Which of ‘em prizes did ya want, little dude?” 

The receptionist seems like she wants to tell him he can't do that, he didn't use the booth’s gun, but a big and flashy smile keeps her quiet. 

Moxxie felt another surge of anger. Was he really treating him like some school date right now? “I don't-” He glances at Millie, “Do you, um-” He could smell Striker's cologne. Since when did he wear cologne? 

He takes a step back. So what if he looks weak? It's better than going into a panic attack in public. He clears his throat and looks at Millie, “Did you want anything?” 

He can feel Striker's gaze on him. Malicious intent hidden behind playful rings.

Millie frowns, “Uh, no.” She looks around. “Where's Blitz?” 

Striker leans against the booth, “Boss man? He's in the pasture with Bombproof.” 

“Right. And you're here because…?” Moxxie was going to shower this woman with so much love when they get back home. She was always the confrontational force he needed in times like this. 

“He sent me to fetch ya.” 

Millie nods, and motions outward. “Well, then, best not to keep him waitin’” She pulls Moxxie along with a strained smile. Yeah, there was most definitely something wrong between these two…

Millie wipes the condensation off of the mirror. She needs to remind Sallie to turn on the fan next time. This is how you get mold on your ceiling! … Well, probably not in Wrath. It's much too dry for mold to grow.

She washes her face with lukewarm water. Sallie had used almost all the hot water earlier.

She grabs her hair rollers, but pauses. Moxxie walks into the bathroom with a furrowed brow. 

They should be having that talk now. 

Moxxie grabs his toothbrush and squirts some toothpaste on. Millie can practically see the anxiety radiating off of him.

Well maybe it can wait.

She finishes up with her hair. Usually it doesn't take all that long, it's practically muscle memory now. But right now she can't help but have to redo each roll. Her own anxiety is making her hands clammy. 

How should she approach it? She can't just wait for him to initiate it. He never opens up about his past. It's one of the only things that she gets mad about. He's usually so open with his feelings but when it comes to any point before he joined Blitzo he just refuses to speak. So how should she ask? How can she be thorough without scaring him off? 

Oh, but there's the big chance that Striker might not even be a part of his past. Maybe he's just really tired! … No, his anxiety is haywire right now. And she's sure he's had a few nightmares as well. 

Moxxie rinses out his mouth before patting his face dry and putting his toothbrush away. “You're staring.”

Millie freezes, nearly dropping her hair roller. Fuck, she needs to redo this one again. “I… Uh yeah.” 

She feels bad when she sees how agitated he looks. It's not directed at her, she knows that, but it still kind of hurts to see.

Moxxie rubs his face and points at the guestroom, “When you finish up we can talk.” 

She nods, “Okay.”

He actually initiated it! Well, her staring certainly helped, but this was progress!

She finishes up quickly, and puts her things away. When she gets into the guestroom, she sits down on the bed next to Moxxie. It's dark. Neither one of them care to nor want to turn the lights on. It's comfortable like this. 

Moxxie wasn't facing her. He was turned slightly towards the far wall away from the bed. His tail repeatedly hits the floor due to his nervousness.

Millie wrings her hands together. “So… You and Striker… What's…” Satan, this is hard. She doesn't want to push him too hard, but she desperately needs answers.

Moxxie sighs. He thinks for a second before answering the unsaid question. “I used to know him.”

So this is about his past. Okay. Cool. She can be cool about this. Calm too!

“You were… close?”

She couldn't really see his face, but he seemed to be grimacing. 

“Yeah.”

It was said almost like a whisper. Like something he didn't want anyone knowing.

“We used to be friends.” 

Millie nods even though he can't see. She's not sure what to say. They must've had a tough falling out. 

“Can I ask how it all went to shit?”

“...”

He shifts and rubs his neck. 

“It's… complicated.”

“Try to explain it.”

“...”

“Please?” She places a hand on his back and he glances back at her.

“... It was doomed from the start. Our first interactions were him picking on me while I cried and ran to my mother.”

“That's something.”

“Yeah.” Moxxie half chuckles. “Our whole relationship could be summed up with that. Honestly, I don't even know how we became friends.” He grimaces. “I wouldn't really call it that. I think it was just an ego thing or something.” 

Millie sat still. Scared that any small movement or comment would make him stop talking. This is probably the most she's heard about his past in years. 

“But still, I stayed with him. I had my first beer with him. I helped to get him his damn horse. I got my dad to give him his first job. I…” He goes quiet.

Millie rubs his back. She knows he's avoiding telling her how they fell out. It's annoying, but she doesn't think she can push him to say anymore. At least not tonight.

“And you can't talk to him about it? Reconcile?”

“...” His tail twitches.

Ah, fuck- don't push! “Sorry, I didn't mean to-” 

“I wish I could.” 

Millie pauses. He's terrified of him but… “You miss him,” she says quietly, almost in disbelief.

“I miss the quiet moments. The weird times when we just existed near each other. When we didn't argue or fight.”

She understood that. She knows Moxxie wasn't exactly the “imp standard” and it made it hard to make friends. He must've been ecstatic when Striker and him were friends, despite all the warning signs. 

Moxxie huffs, “We left on bad terms. And he was never exactly passive, so I guess I'm just kind of…” Scared. Terrified. Skittish.

Millie leans in close and kisses his shoulder, “Well, my family ain't stupid. They wouldn't have hired him if they didn't think he was trustworthy.” 

“He's dangerous. And a deceiver.” 

Millie sighs. “Do you really think he will do anything?” 

Moxxie grips the bedsheets. He doesn't answer for a hot minute. “No. I don't think he's gonna hurt you or your family. But I can't help but worry.”

Millie kisses his shoulder again, “If it makes you feel better, I'll be careful. I won't sit near him, I'll always have someone in the same room as us. Won't do any jobs with him either.” 

Moxxie groaned, “Satan, you're making me sound like an overbearing husband.”

She laughs lightly, “Anything for you, my love.” 

“Mhm. Love you too.” He can't help the small smile on his face. 

Millie pulls him to the bed without resistance, “I'm tired. All this emotion talk is making me sleepy.”

While Millie sat there holding her husband, she couldn’t help but keep her eyes open. She was thinking and worrying. He didn’t say why they fell out. He danced around it like he usually did with everything surrounding his past. 

She tenses when she hears a quiet rattling. Or maybe she’s imagining it. She's probably just worked up from their talk. Moxxie didn’t indicate that he heard it, but then again he seems so tired right now. She’s half sure he’s asleep.

She pulls him closer, earning an agitated grunt, and kisses his cheek. She’d be careful, and she’d be sure he didn’t get hurt either. She’d protect him and everyone else.

Chapter Text

Moxxie startles awake. Millie was wrapped tightly around him and snoring loudly in his ear. He usually doesn't mind, but he's on edge. His heartbeat is racing right now and he feels dizzy. He thinks he had a nightmare but thankfully he doesn't seem to remember any of it.

Breath in… Breath out… In… Out... 

His skin itched. Look around, distract yourself. It was still dark out. He didn't hear anyone moving around, so it was before six. Fingers twitch. His body shudders.

…

He needs to get up. 

Millie’s hold on him was starting to feel suffocating. He feels trapped. And he hates himself for it. He’s supposed to feel safe with her. Not whatever this is. 

He gets out of bed, barely moving Millie at all. He's done this many times. 

He needs to freshen up. He feels gross. Did he even shower yesterday? His whole body feels off. Maybe that nightmare had a lasting effect on him. It clearly set off his fight or flight response.

He grabs his shower things and a change of clothes. Who cares if he wakes anyone up? He needs to get clean right now. 

He opens the door as quietly as the creaky thing will let him. Yawning as he steps out and then closes the door behind him. Just a quick shower. And he's pretty sure Millie’s whole family are heavy sleepers. Blitzo sleeps through most anything, and if Loona woke up she'd just get on her phone.

He glances at Striker's door.

He probably won't come out.

Moxxie locks the bathroom door and sets his stuff on the counter.bAs he turns the shower on, he realizes he forgot to grab a towel. He curses under his breath but steps out of the bathroom to-

“Yer showerin’ at this hour?”

Moxxie shrinks when he feels eyes on him. Worse is that his beholder is so close to him. Kind of. Striker was resting against the railing of the stairs a good five feet away from him. But it still felt too close for his instincts.  

Moxxie just stares at him. He can't think of anything to say. He's too scared to say anything. 

Something's different. And they're alone.

Striker stares back. Better worded, he glares. But then again, his expression held a lot more than just animosity right now. 

Moxxie can't help but stiffen when the other shifts. He's so tired and yet so alert it's making him nauseous.

“You…” Striker starts, half growling, but he trails off. His tail rattles and Moxxie zeros in on it. His heart rate is rising again.

There's something seriously wrong. 

The snake's whole demeanor. It's different from the past few days. Yet so familiar. He's angry, and predatory, and other things Moxxie can't quite place. 

And then he realized Striker's looking at him like he used to do back when they were younger.

After they started fighting. 

Moxxie's claws unconsciously scrape the wooden door. It makes a shrill screech that draws Striker's attention. 

After they kissed.

He's staring at him like he wants to grab him. And Moxxie isn't sure why he wants to anymore. Does he want to hurt him? Or cage him in? Or is he trying to do something so much worse?

Why is he looking at him like that?!

Striker's brow twitches, “Pardon?”

Moxxie blanks. He said that out loud? 

Why can't he say anything else? Holy shit, please say something else. Don't leave the silence for him to fill. Don't let him come up with his own answers. He can't take anymore of this.

He steps back before shutting the bathroom door. He wants to ignore the small amount of shock in Striker's eyes. How hurt he seems. 

It's too familiar. 

He locks the door again. He has no way of knowing if or when Striker's left. The running water is too loud to hear the man's quiet footsteps. So, he just stands there. For a while he thinks. He's starting to hear people move around the house when he finally does get into the shower. The May's won't be happy about their water bill.

Millie sighs, “For the last time, I don't got any horses for ya to ride!”

Blitzo smirks, “What if I go borrow some?”

“Not happening!”

“Why not?”

“They're not mine to lend out!”

“Why?” 

Millie felt three neurons die for every centimeter Blitzo's stupid grin grew.

“You-” she throws her hands in the air, “Mox! Can you please explain to him how laws work?” 

Moxxie glares at Blitzo from behind the trunk and shoves the final basket in. “You’re riding in the van.” He closes the trunk, and adds like an afterthought, “sir.”

Both Blitzo and Millie stare at each other for a second in confusion. Millie with a tad bit of guilt. He's been off all morning, and she can't help but wonder if having their talk yesterday was a bad time. She probably should have waited. 

She clears her throat, “Right. Well, we gotta go anyways. Sallie’s been cravin’ chocolate and I don't think she's keen on waiting any later than four.”

Blitzo nods slowly, still kind of staring at Moxxie. “Why didn't Lin send her then, huh?” He sighs dramatically, “How come I’m forced into doing basic grocery trips? That's not Western at all!”

“This ain't a hotel, Blitz. We're takin’ residence, so we're payin’ our dues.” She catches sight of Lin walking towards them, accompanied by Striker towing Bombproof by her reins.

Ah. Striker…

She watches Moxxie stiffen upon seeing him, and subsequently shuffle further behind the car. Striker spares him a single glance before returning his attention to Lin and the others.

Seriously, what happened with these two?! She loves her husband dearly, but he has a tendency to blow things out of proportion. Striker seemed… fine? Millie chewed her lip. Then again, she knew next to nothing about this man. 

Striker tipped his hat at her with a charming smile. 

She'd say it's pretty common advice not to trust strangers, though. 

Millie greets her mom with a smile, “Did’chya need to add somethin’ to the list?”

Lin shook her head, “Oh, no, I just came to tell y'all that Striker’ll be joinin’ you. He needs his own supplies.”

Millie tenses, she doesn't need to look at Moxxie to sense his disdain. “Ah, but our van isn't big enough for-”

Blitzo leans on Millie's head and shoots finger guns at said cowboy. “Say, have you ever ridden in a city van before, hotshot?”

Striker cocks a brow, “I never found the need to.” 

“Well, today's your lucky day!,” he smiles wide, “See, I can be super cool, and let you take a ride in our, mostly, air conditioned van. But only if you let me ride Bombproof!” 

“If you can get on her, I’ll let you ride her,” Striker teases with a grin.

Millie chuckles nervously, “No, please ignore him. He's really not all that good with horses.” Holy shit Moxxie would lose it if he had to sit with Striker! He's already pissed off today!

Blitzo gasps, “How dare you! I'll have you know I've done extensive research!” He walks up to Bombproof, who eyes him wearily. Nightmares were weirdly sentient creatures and in turn were highly specific about who came near or even touched them. He digs around his pocket before pulling out a sugar cub and holding it out with a smile 

Bombproof shuffles away, uninterested in this strange man that keeps bothering her. But stops once Striker taps his boot against her heel. 

She huffs and reluctantly takes the sugar cube from Blitzo. He gasps, “See, Mills? She loves me already! You'd let me ride you, right?” 

Bombproof seems ready to bite him, but stands still once Striker taps her heel again. She throws the equivalent of a quiet hissy fit as Blitzo climbs onto her saddle. And while Striker grins and explains the proper placement of hands, feet, and the reins, Millie can't help but feel a little uneasy. She's a little concerned by the fact Striker seems to be corralling his horse into letting Blitzo on her. If it was any other breed of horse she wouldn't have cared. But Nightmares were so particular. She's confused as to why he would strain his relationship with his horse just to get into a stranger’s good graces.

In a last ditch effort for Moxxie, “Do you even know the way to town?”

Blitzo scoffs, “There's like one road here,” he throws the keys at Millie, “My sense of direction is the fucking best anyways.”

“It ain't even that far! Plus, you can get to know Striker a bit better,” Lin says.

Millie’s smile is strained. She hears Moxxie slam the van’s door closed behind him. “I don't see why I’d need to, Ma. I don't live here anymore.” 

“You can still make friends at yer age, Pumpkin. Just exchange emails or what not.” Lin promptly walks away with a smirk. Proud of her mediocre match making skills.

Blitzo gets Bombproof to start trotting. Striker smiles down at Millie, “I believe we should get goin’ before Bossman runs himself off road.”

Millie chuckles nervously, “Yep.” Satan almighty was this awkward. She panics as Striker starts walking towards the van, his eyes trained on a specific passenger.  

“Ah, shit, let me tell Loona to move to the back real quick-”

Striker was already opening the door to the backseat. “No need. There's plenty of room back here. Ain't that right little dude?”

Moxxie glares back. Loona pauses on her screen and her ears move slightly towards Striker. Even she knew something was up.

Millie isn't sure what to say as Striker slides right on in next to Moxxie. The thespian tenses and shifts away but he nods at Millie. “It's fine, let's just go.”

She makes her way to the driver's seat and starts the van. Blitzo was already going the wrong way so she had to yell at him to get on course. For at least a few minutes it was quiet. Millie couldn't help looking back through the rear view mirror to see how the guys were. Striker was looking out the window and Moxxie was doing everything he could to ignore him. She caught Striker staring at Moxxie a few times. He doesn't seem to be malicious, but he was contemplating something. 

Maybe how to bridge the gap between them? 

Millie shakes her head. She shouldn't be making assumptions. Moxxie said they had a rough end and friendship even before that. It's bugging her that all she has to go on was “he was a bully”. 

She feels terrible for thinking it, but she can't help but wonder if maybe Moxxie was overreacting. It's hell, most everybody is an asshole to people they don't know. And they seemed to have actually had a decent friendship! At least at some point in their time knowing each other. 

She shouldn't say anything. She really shouldn't. She should just let them be, it's what Moxxie would want. 

But does he really need that?

What if she just helped provide a little, tiny bit of support for the bridge…?

Millie clears her throat, “So, Striker, how's life out here treatin’ you?”

Striker shrugs, “Nothin’ much really.” His tail sways ever so closer to Moxxie's. “Work’s been good, though. You can always count on Wrath to provide labor.”

“That's the truth, ain't it?” 

Another bout of quietness. She can feel Moxxie's weary gaze on the back of her neck. But she refuses to look anywhere but the road right now. 

“So, you specialize in ranching?”

“Yes, ma’am. Though I tend to jump around when money’s tight.” 

“Oh, me and Mox know all about that!”, she laughs. “When Blitz was first starting up his business we didn't get paid a whole lot. So we had to take some odd jobs.”

Striker raises a brow. “Really?” 

Moxxie tenses as Striker shifts in his seat to look at him. “I thought city work was supposed to pay well. Ain't that the appeal?”

Millie sat quiet, hoping that Moxxie would just respond. Though, she could admit that Striker sounded kind of antagonistic there, at least they were (hopefully) talking! 

“Where in Hell do you think anyone gets paid well?” Moxxie half glares at Striker.

Striker smirks, “True. So, then, why are you there?”

The two sit and stare at each other for five long seconds. 

“Ya said yer farm burned down but why’d ya move? You could've rebuilt it.” A quiet rattle. Loona perks up at it but mostly just ignores them.

Millie is sweating. Moxxie looks two seconds away from drawing his gun on the cowboy. Her saving grace was the fact she could see the town on the horizon. If she sped up a little, no one would really call her out. Well, maybe except Blitzo, who was failing to get Bombproof to also speed up.

“... There's more options.” 

Striker raises his brows. He's not content with that answer, at least Millie wouldn't be. He leans in closer. What- why is he getting so close?

Striker hums, “Those options being?”

Moxxie almost bares his teeth at him. 

So, maybe Millie underestimated just how much of an asshole Striker was…

“Not to cut off this wonderful conversation, but we've arrived!” She clasps her hands together. “And I want to get back before four.”

Striker leans back and stares at the store front with a calm facade. “Yes, ma’am.” 

“You don't need to call me ma’am.” 

He ignores her with a rattle of his tail.

Millie lets out a small breath of relief when Striker steps out of the van. She owes Moxxie an apology for that mess. She should get him a new gun holster or something.

Millie steps out of the van. Moxxie stays still for a while before reluctantly following her out. She wrings her hands, “Moxxie, I'm…”

He just kisses her cheek, “Let's just get the shopping done.” 

She smiles wide at him. He was too forgiving.

Blitzo came up with a wide smile. Bombproof is throwing a hissy fit a few feet over as Striker attempts to readjust her saddle and reins. “Fuck, that was amazing. How cool did I look? Fucking awesome right?” 

Moxxie gives him a passing glance before walking towards the shop. Blitzo gasps dramatically, “How dare you! You're supposed to be sucking up to your boss right now!” He quickly follows behind the thespian.

Millie chuckles and fetches the baskets and grocery list her mother made. The list itself was mainly just ingredients for party foods. They reused a lot of the same decorations from previous years. It wouldn't have been so hard to get everything if it wasn't for all the last minute shoppers in the store. Everyone was crowding and stealing out of each other's baskets. Some items were spilled on the floor. Employees were painfully slow. 

Moxxie felt better being away from Striker. Even being in the busy shop, where he felt a little exposed, was better than dealing with the man's insanity. He still feels shaken from that morning. 

Thankfully, they did somehow manage to grab everything they needed with minimal confrontation. Unfortunately, that minimal confrontation included Millie meeting a few of her old friends again. Which of course turned into a lengthy talk that Blitzo roped himself into. 

Moxxie carries the groceries back to the van. Purposefully ignoring the snake who was already waiting there. He had a small bag of items. Moxxie didn't bother finding out the contents of it. If he stared, Striker would take it as an invitation to talk and taunt him. And he really couldn't handle that right now. 

He ignores the stark feeling of eyes on him as he loads the groceries in. He practically slams the trunk shut before just leaning against the car.

He crosses his arms, staring at Millie as she laughs with her old friends. He kind of resented it right now. Why couldn't she just catch up when this asshole wasn't stuck with them. And why wasn't he over there? He loved the attention. His one saving grace was that Loona was sitting inside the car. Close enough to tackle Striker if needed.

He was trying very hard to ignore the way eyes trailed his every twitch. How that tail slowly inched closer. 

*Bringgg* *Bringgg*

Moxxie jumps at the sound of his phone going off. The tail retreats. He grabs the phone out of his coat and holds it up.

>>Dad

It was his father. Moxxie huffs. He would have known right away if he would ever let Moxxie set a song to his number. But apparently that was too demasculinizing. 

The rings in Striker's eyes narrow at the caller ID. Moxxie turns to the side and presses answer.

“Hello?”

A gruff voice, “Moxxie. Are you busy?”

“Um,” He half glares at Striker, “Not particularly, but I'm not alone.”

Striker smirks down at him. Moxxie turns his glare towards the floor. This used to happen when they would hang out. Dad didn't exactly like Striker in their later years and Moxxie had to sneak out just to go for a walk together.

“Well, I was just callin’ to check in on ya. It's… been a while since we've been to Wrath.”

Moxxie's tail flicks. He can imagine his dad sitting in his old armchair with his landline pressed against the side of his dusty red face. His hair was a mess that spiked around curling horns. The red of Pride’s sky leaking into the Wrathian decorated room. The ashtray was probably full but wouldn't be emptied till Moxxie got back. He sounded anxious. He barely expressed any emotion in his voice nowadays. 

He runs a hand through his hair. Keeping his voice low. “Yeah, I'm, I'm doing fine. I've visited Millie’s family before you know.” 

He's ignoring how he'd always break down once he got back to Pride. Not always from the May’s taunts but personal fears and anxieties.

“Mn.”

Quiet. He could hear Millie's laughter a few meters away. He could also hear the light rattles of Striker's tail.

Should he say anything about Striker? But how would Dad react? Moxxie doesn't want to upset him. He'd probably have terrible anxiety until he got back. But… well his father was the only person he could really talk to about this. 

With Millie, they've been together for five years, married for two of them. Yet he still hasn't been able to talk about much of his past though. Even just having that small conversation yesterday felt like it was too much. Too fast.

“Um, Dad…”

“Yes?”

“I…” Should he be selfish right now? He glances back at Striker, who was staring intently at him the entire time. He could technically wait until he got back but he feared he would go insane if he didn't say something to someone soon.

“If I told you that uh, Striker was-” loud rattling from behind. He thinks he hears his dad choke on a draw of smoke.

He doesn't dare to look at Striker. He can feel the cowboy’s glare burning into him. He can't help but wonder what would've happened if it was just the two of them alone.

“That bastard is at their farm?” His father never yelled much anymore. But his anger came out in trembles. 

Moxxie takes another step away from Striker, further behind the car. But it also blocks Millie from view. “Yeah.” There's so much he wants to say but can't.

“Is he, is he tryin’ anythin’ around you?”

He rubs the side of his head and lowers his volume, “Kind of? It's- it's complicated, and I can't exactly open up right now-”

“He's there right now?” He wasn't yelling exactly, but his voice was louder. It's probably the loudest Moxxie's heard him speak in a while.

Striker rattles again. This was making his heart race. Maybe it was a mistake. “Yes, but I'm also out with Millie and Blitz. We're getting groceries.”

“Is he-”

“I'm safe, dad.” 

There was another silence. Most likely him regaining his composure. 

He hears Millie getting tired of conversing. She was using that tone of voice she always used when she wanted to leave. He sighs, “I uh, have to go. I'll call you later.” 

“Moxxie-”

“I'd rather not talk about it in the car with them around. Please.”

“... I'll call you at nine.”

“Yeah, okay. Bye.”

His dad hangs up. 

Moxxie smooths out his hair, he accidentally ruffled it with his anxious movements earlier.

He's about to step back around the car when Striker suddenly gets in his space. He stumbles back. He could hear Blitzo trying to say bye. Millie’s old friends still weren't getting the hint somehow. Southern goodbyes and all that.

Striker leans in close, “That was Clinton, I'm guessin’?”

Moxxie fears he's going to develop a heart murmur, “Yeah.” Cut off the dialog. Keep it nice and short. 

Striker smiles weirdly at him. It's hostile and disgustingly familiar. “I didn't realize ya still talk about me.”

Moxxie puts his phone back in his pocket. “I don't actually.” He wants to back up twenty meters. But at the same time, he doesn't want to give Striker an inch. It's frustrating.

He thinks Millie finally managed to get to the point that she's actually saying goodbye. It's hard to tell when all his senses are focused on Striker.

Striker hums at him dismissively. “I find it hard to believe ya haven't talked about me a little. We were awfully close.” 

This felt even worse to deal with than outright aggression. It felt like he was planning something and Moxxie had no clue as to what. It was one of Moxxie's least favourite parts about him. Too unreadable. 

Striker smirks at him before leaning back. He turns towards Millie, who has finally made her way back. “All done, Ma’am?”

Millie chuckles awkwardly, “I thought I said you don't need to be callin’ me ma’am. I ain't yer employer.”

“Of course, Mrs. Mildred.” 

Millie groans. She notices Moxxie fidgeting with his sleeve cuffs. He's nervous. Does just being around Striker really do this?

Striker nods towards Blitzo, “Sorry Boss Man, Bombproof’s gettin’ antsy. I'll be riding her back.”

Blitzo pouts, “Aw, really? I was just starting to get the hang of it!” 

Striker chuckles, “We've got the rest of the week, ain't no need to worry.”

Moxxie sighs internally. He didn't think he could handle another car ride back sitting next to him. 

He startles slightly when Millie rubs his shoulder. She's smiling sweetly. It helps to calm him down. She quietly leads him into the van as Blitzo chats with Striker. 

“You doin’ alright?” She whispers. Loona most likely didn't care but she was also a hound for gossip.

Moxxie nods and kisses her cheek, “Just tired.”

Her smile widens and it's still the most beautiful thing he's ever seen. He's almost mad he has to interrupt the moment. “My dad's calling at nine, so I'm gonna sneak outside then.”

Millie’s eyebrows scrunch, “You can take the room if you want. I'll probably be downstairs.” 

Striker's room was right next to theirs and the walls weren't exactly thick. “It's quieter outside. Somehow.”

Millie sighs and grabs his hand, “Okay. But I wanna say hi before you talk.” 

Moxxie nods with a small smile. Oh how he loves this woman.

He rubs his eyes with a yawn. He was startled awake by green nightmares some time ago. 

Was Dad having the same nightmares right now? Moxxie couldn't help but feel guilty about it. He really should've waited to talk about it until after he got back. He's done nothing but cause distress this entire trip. 

It was dark out still. He'd check his phone for the time, but he knew the bright LED screen would only serve to make him nauseous. 

His throat was dry again. He sits up slowly so as to not disturb Millie, and reaches for his glass. It's annoyingly empty and it just makes Moxxie feel even worse. His throat was too dry to ignore but sneaking downstairs felt dangerous. He could probably just get some water from the bathroom sink. 

Mindful of his wife, he scoots out of bed and makes his way out of the room. He closes the door behind him with a soft click. He turns to the bathroom and-

Moxxie's brow tightened as he could clearly hear Blitzo sweet talking someone over the phone. Most likely the Prince. But at this hour? Really? 

He's already out of his room though, so he glides down the stairs to get to the kitchen. He'll just get water from there. Blitzo was most likely the only person awake right now, and he's obviously busy.

Moxxie sighs as he flicks the water on and fills his cup. This whole trip so far has been a terrible mess. No doubt Millie's parents think even less of him now. He's been so jittery and snappy around everyone. Even Loona made a taunt at him about it. 

He grips his cup more tightly as he turns the water off. 

A rattle.

Moxxie turns around so fast the liquid sloshes a bit over the rim and onto the floor. Striker stares at the small puddle with raised brows.

When the two lock eyes, Moxxie can't help but freeze. It's night. There's only two exits: the arch into the living room hallway and the door to the porch. And Striker is blocking the safest one. If he gets him outside, what should he do? Fight? Scream? Should he-

“We never did finish our conversation earlier.” Striker leans against the archway. His posture was casual but his tone was anything but.

…

What?

Moxxie replies hoarsely, “Excuse me?” His eyebrows scrunched, confusion making his tired mind focus to find said conversation.

“In the car. You said ya moved for more options.”

Moxxie just stares. He can't move his mouth for some reason. The hell is he supposed to say? Is he supposed to say something? 

“Even though imps have less in Pride.”

Striker steps closer.

“Figured you were puttin’ on a show for yer wife.” He says with a hiss. “But now we don't gotta play strangers, do we?”

Moxxie clenches the cup tight enough to hear it creak.

Striker steps closer. He was frowning, close to snarling. The rings in his eyes narrow.

“You ran.” It was said with so much venom, Moxxie could practically taste it. 

“I… I didn't...” Flashes of bright green and screams echoed in his ears.

Striker's eyes narrow. “You were plannin’ to run before that.” He seemed to be having his own conversation. Paying no mind to the lack of replies.

He takes another step towards Moxxie, and the counter edge digs into Moxxie's back.

Striker's face was unnervingly calm. “If your father were half a man he'd’ve rebuilt. And you'd’ve stayed.” 

Too close!

Moxxie attempts to dash to the side, but his wrist is caught in a death grip. It itched. He can't help but glare with prey-like fear.

“There's no way you would've ran unless you were already planning to.” 

Too! Close!

“Striker I swear-!” He cuts himself off when Striker slams his free hand down next to the counter and leans in uncomfortably close. It was spiking Moxxie's heart rate. His breathing was labored. 

“You never even tried to reach out,” Striker hissed at him. His claws scrape against the granite countertop.

“I…” He was close to a panic attack. Hell, he was probably already in one. He could barely speak. “I thought you were…” Everytime he tried to voice his thoughts, they died halfway through.

Striker leans closer, his rattles grow louder, “And you pretendin’ not to know me? How you tremble every time I get near ya?” Moxxie's breath hitches. He feels so trapped. And so angry. He tries to pull away. 

He hisses himself when blood is drawn from his wrist.

“You don't get to run this time.” You’d think his expressions would’ve changed from all those years ago. 

Striker leaned closer. They were both silent. Both staring. Both close. Both unwavering in resolve.

The vermin was wide eyed. He tried so hard to show a tough exterior when he was nothing but weak. And it was all too easy to tell when his composure was breaking. His heartbeat was racing. Striker could feel it beneath his palm. He could feel every twitch in his forearm. He could see every minute shift in the man’s stance. 

It’d been a long moment since he last saw the vermin bastard. He barely kept up the charade when he first spotted him. Every moment alone with him made his bloodlust rise. His restraint was thin and he took every chance he could to belittle the little fucker. 

It helped to keep calm around the in-laws. Made his job easier. But it was starting to grate on his nerves seeing Moxxie run to his little group at every interaction. He used to run to Striker. 

The snake leaned closer. He could feel the quickened breaths from Moxxie on his face. 

Just how pathetic could he get?! He got too scared of Striker? Then why was he with that assassin chick?! 

“You really are half a man. Never facin’ yer problems head on and always hiden behind others.” 

Moxxie tears up slightly.

“It's utterly pathe-”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll pluck your bird ass nicely once I get back. Blah, blah, blah. Bye.”

Striker pauses, staring at the stairwell. Moxxie’s heart rate spikes. The threat of his boss seeing him finally snapped him out of it. “Get off,” he whispers, but he knows Striker can hear him.

Striker ignores him.

Moxxie tries to pull his hand out of the snake’s grip. He somehow holds on tighter. “Let go of-”

His eyes narrow when a tail wraps around his mouth. He almost growls at the grin on the bastard’s face. 

He can’t take this stupid game any longer! He’s an assassin for fucksake!

Moxxie bites the tail and knees Striker in the thigh. The snake curses and backs up a bit, but doesn't let go of his wrist. He tries to pull Moxxie closer again. He curses when a gun presses against his side. The vermin is much quicker now.

“Let. Go.” Moxxie is glaring daggers into him. It makes him pause. This was the same defiance he saw in the stables. 

It made his blood boil.

The floorboards creak as Blitzo makes his way to his room. Neither wanted a scene. Striker reluctantly let go and stepped back. Moxxie doesn't lower his gun. His arm is barely shaking. Striker leaves the kitchen with a hiss. 

Moxxie doesn't lower his arm for six minutes. He doesn't go upstairs for seven minutes. He doesn't calm down for three hours.

Three hours after he fell asleep, Moxxie woke up restless and uncomfortable. He stayed staring at the ceiling until Millie’s alarms went off. Neither of them comment on the circles under his eyes. He's had them since their second night here. 

Moxxie starts getting ready a few minutes after Millie does. His body refused to move. He truly despises his anxiety responses. He thought he was over them by now. There was no point in panicking. 

He sluggishly gets dressed before grabbing his comb. 

Noticing his sloppy movements, Millie smiles awkwardly. “Do ya want any help with that?”

Moxxie pauses for a moment. “...No.” She doesn't have to do anything for him. He's not a child. She's already uncomfortable enough with his mood. Why would he make her do anything for him?

There was a knock on the door, accompanied by a rattle. Moxxie freezes completely. He feels sick to the stomach. What the hell is-

“Let me make sure the love birds ain't doing a morning jizz sesh, ‘kay?” Blitzo chuckles.

Millie huffs, “Who does he think he is saying such shit in my pa’s house?”

Moxxie only sighs. So, Blitzo and Striker were talking and now he gets to be ridiculed first thing in the morning. 

Millie opens the door and points her own hair brush at him. She frowns, “Don't say that. Yer gonna give my pa an aneurism.”

Blitzo smirked, “That's exactly what someone doing a morning fuck would say!”

She rolls her eyes and places a hand on his hip. “What’d’ya want, Blitz?” She glances to the side, “Striker?”

The snake just smiles and shakes his head. 

Moxxie looks away before he can make eye contact.

“Just need to make sure Mox is ready. Can’t have him chickening out, last minute!” 

“Please, leave us alone, sir.” 

Hearing his employee's voice, Blitzo slips past Millie and starts poking at Moxxie. 

“Aren't you excited to get your ass kicked today?!”

“Sir! Quit it-”

Millie laughs nervously. Moxxie is clearly upset about something. She knows Blitzo is just trying to cheer him up. But Satan knows their energies don’t mix well. Especially when stressed. 

Striker hums as he stares at the two fighting. Though Blitzo would call it playing. Moxxie immediately locks in on the cowboy's sound and freezes. Blitzo uses the opportunity to tackle him to the ground. 

Blitzo grins, “Come on! We're getting warmed up for the big event!” 

Moxxie elbows him particularly hard in the chest and shoots up while his boss wheezes. He brushes his clothes off of any dirt. 

Blitzo shoots him a thumbs up from the floor. “See?... heeehh… Already… in… the… ehh… spirit!” He says in between wheezes.

Moxxie had barely held back from clawing Blitzo's face. His nerves were on end and he was starting to hurt from the lack of sleep. 

“Get!- Please get out… sir,” he mumbles. 

Blitzo grins knowingly, “Ah I see, you wanna practice your victory moves with the lady!” 

Moxxie's face reddens considerably. “Blitz!” 

“Haha, I'm leaving! I'm leaving!” Blitzo scrambles out the door. He wraps an arm around Striker's shoulders. “Let's give the already weds some space. Hehe.”

Striker chuckled at his poor joke. But he glanced behind to see Moxxie’s flustered expression. 

Millie grumbles as she closes the door. She turns to Moxxie and frowns, “I'm sorry, baby. I tried to keep him out.”

Moxxie sighs, “It's fine.”

…

“...Ya don't have to go to the Pain Games.”

“I… I know.” 

Millie wrings her hands together nervously. Moxxie’s brows furrow. He's worrying her. 

He's been such a big problem this whole week. All because of his ego! He sighs and grabs her hands in his. 

“I won't participate.” 

He doesn't want to worry her. 

“I'm sorry about this whole week.”

He doesn't even want to be near Striker, again.

“I promise I'll explain everything when we get home.”

Millie smiles weakly, “I know.”

Even lackluster, she brightens his whole world. He kisses her knuckles. “We should go eat.” 

Millie nods. 

Moxxie deciding to sit out last minute ticked many people off. Lin and Joe both laughed and said, “I told ya so!” Most of Millie's siblings, and Loona, groaned about how he's being a let down again. Most had bets going about how fast it'd take for him to die. Blitzo had thrown a somewhat fake tantrum about it, but he let up when he saw Moxxie's tired expression. 

Millie was happy though. She was terrified he'd get seriously hurt in his current state.

While they were ticked off, they weren't really angry. They expected he'd wimp out. They always saw him as less then, especially in will power. 

However,

Striker was downright livid.

To most people, it was just an eyebrow raise and a knowing scoff followed by a scathing comment about how “it's expected that such a little guy couldn't handle the Pain Games.” Simple, really. Nothing to it. A minor acknowledgment to an issue he didn't even care about. 

But Moxxie knew better. He'd seen that look in his eyes. Striker was scarily good at hiding his true feelings, but his anger was always something Moxxie knew to look for. 

And goddamn was he pissed!

Moxxie had stayed by Millie's side to watch the games with her. She had requested he'd do so before the trip, anyways. He never found this stuff enjoyable. Mom would never let him go during his childhood. There wasn't any point to it. It was just violence for the sake of violence.

Striker's had a purpose, though. He tore through his opponents like they were butter. Moxxie could tell he was barely holding back in his tussle with Blitzo. 

There was a moment where Striker's eyes shined wild with bloodlust right before he broke a guy's arm. It made Moxxie want to throw up. 

He could feel gazes on him during breaks in the games. He refused to look anywhere near the snake. It was probably only fueling the man's anger but he couldn't. He just couldn't. 

When the games finally ended, and the winners were called, Moxxie let out a sigh. He was half sure Striker would try to kill his boss in retaliation. 

Blitzo walks up to them with a grin on his face. “I was pretty fucking cool huh?”

Millie claps. “Ya fuckin’ wrecked them!” 

He plops down next to Moxxie and elbows him, “Eh? Eh? What? All out of brown nosing today?”

Moxxie sighs and cracks a small smile. “You did good, Sir.”

Both Millie and Blitzo seem to relax at his smile. He wasn't really in a good mood yet, but the smile was appreciated.

And then Blitzo asks, “So… Striker was pretty good too, huh?”

Millie damn near launches herself at him.

Moxxie's brows immediately furrow. He snarls, “No.”

Blitzo laughs nervously, “You don't mean that. We all saw his badass moves and shit.”

“He's an egotistical asshole,” Moxxie says through gritted teeth. 

On stage, Striker pulls out a guitar with a wide grin.

“So am I, and you work great with me!”

“Blitz, can we not do this here?” Millie chuckles nervously. 

Moxxie stares at Blitzo. “Did you offer him a job?” His claws dug into his wooden seat.

Blitzo shook his head frantically, “Not yet! I would’ve-” “Yet?!” “-asked if you weren't so on edge!”

Moxxie almost growls, “What the fuck could he possibly bring to the team?!” 

Blitzo raised a brow, “We're talking about the same guy, right?”

Millie frowned, “Blitzo, I know yer thinking of the company, but we both know it wouldn't work.”

“Hm-! Moxxie go and fuck ya-self!~” 

Moxxie tears up and sends a glare at Striker. There was that same anger staring back at him. He can't take it anymore. Any longer here and he's sure he'll explode.

Blitzo and Millie both make objections as he runs off the bleachers. He can't! He just can't! 

He runs past the house. Striker would go there after the ceremony. He's sure of it. He'd go back to celebrate with the family and stroke his own ego. Don't stay on the fucking road! He can follow that! Field! Holy shit, get into the fucking field!

He heaves. The air is so heavy. He can feel his blood pumping in his teeth. Something is ringing. His skin itches. His legs burn. How far did he run? Fuck it itches. Oh Satan! He's making a mess of everything. This was supposed to be a nice trip for Millie. He's ruining it. He keeps ruining it! 

Everything keeps piling and piling. It's so heavy. He can't think. His stomach hurts. He doesn't want to feel his blood or his bones or his flesh! He doesn't want to feel his mind! The rigging was too loud! Everything is too loud! Just SHUT UP! 

His throat burns. It's too hot. Too loud. Why is there green? He doesn't want to see green right now. He wants to go home. Home to dad and mom and everyone and.

It's too hot! Too loud! 

His legs itch. Why does it itch? Make it stop! Please! It's unbearable! Just- throw the fucking problem away- 

Moxxie stops when he sees a picture of Millie on his lock screen. His phone was buzzing in his pocket. His breathing is fast and shallow, and his body hurts from anxiety. There are a bunch of texts from her. She was worried. She was looking for him. There was a missed call as well. But a text immediately following apologizing for being too hounding and that she won't call if it's too much.

She's worried.

Moxxie almost slams his head down in frustration when he notices the puddle of green puke. Disgusting. 

He rubs his mouth clean with his sleeve. He could taste the shoddy festival food in his mouth. It was bad. Cheaply made and tasting of chemicals. 

He pulled up his messages. There were exactly four unread messages from Blitzo. He seemed to be trying to pass him potentially offering Striker a job off as a joke. Moxxie was tempted to call him just to yell. But he didn't deserve that. Neither of them deserved to be worrying over his sorry self. 

His breathing was still labored, and his adrenaline high, but he managed to convince himself to stand back up. The house was barely in view. He really did run far. He got back on the dirt path and began walking back to the house.

He pulled up Millie’s messages. She was mainly just asked if he was okay. Sometimes asking where he was. He hovered over the keyboard. 

<<”I'm fine.”

Delete.

<<”I'm coming back.”

Delete…

<<”Sorry for being awkward again.”

Delete…!!

>>”Come back when you feel better OK? I love you”

Moxxie stops walking and typing. She really was too understanding. 

He tries to think of something to text back, but nothing comes up. He just settles for a thumbs up and heart emoji. 

He continues walking. His breathing returned to normal. His blood is still pumping. His face is still sticky from his tears and vomit.

It's fine, he'll get cleaned up when he gets to the house, and then he'll sleep, and then they'll go home. 

And talk about him and Striker’s- 

BANG!!

… what?

Distant screams echoed across the field. Moxxie sprints for the festival area. 

Did someone shoot-?!

Imps push against him. Everyone is panicking. People are getting trampled left and right. Moxxie keeps having to weave around them. 

When he gets to the stage, he regrets ever coming out of his stupor. 

“Breaking News!”

“Coming in hot from the Wrath Ring: Prince Stolas, also known as the ‘Wimp Goetia’, was assassinated!”

“The shooter at large used an angelic, long distance gun to blow the Prince’s brains out.”

“King Paimon has not commented on the situation yet. Neither has Prince Stolas’s wife. Many speculate on whether Princess Estella played a role in her late husband’s death.”