Archive of Our Own

Banhammer sighed, already taking his blindfold off and tying it to his wrist. Today had been long and tiring, too many calls pertaining to petty crimes and having to drag rude customers out of stores and restaurants. He was exhausted and all he wanted to do now was lie in bed with his beloved. Usually the field of duty wouldn’t leave him this worn out, but…

Scythe’s mechanical arm was in for repairs with Medkit today, leading her to take the day off from her own work. The warden was left stuck with an annoying and very uppity rookie who thought he knew more than his senior coworkers. He just made things worse, thinking his “witty” banter was putting folks in their place. In reality it just made them angrier and much, much harder to put in handcuffs and get them into the car. It took every ounce of willpower for him to not slam his hammer into the back of that idiot’s head.

The door to the house clicked open, allowing Banhammer entrance. Upon entering, it was dead quiet, no trace of Scythe in sight. This wasn’t the type of silence that the warden liked. No, this sort of dead silence was never good.

“Scythe? Scythe, where are ya?”

The warden calls out into the home.

…

Nothing.

He snaps his fingers, his armor flickering off of him and going back to his armory. In its place is a loose tank top and sweatpants, his wings spilling from his back as they were freed.

The kitchen was empty. So was the library and the workshop. Worry was forming knots in Banhammer’s stomach.

“Scythe?”

He calls out again as he treads down the halls, approaching the bedroom. Lamplight streamed from under the door, that gives him a clue as to where Scythe might be. But then why hasn’t he heard her?

The warden put a hand on the doorknob, seeing if it was locked. The fact that wouldn’t budge told him that it was very much locked. He steps back to knock at the door.

“Scythe, you in ‘ere?”

He asks as he thumps his knuckles against the wood.

Harsh rattling was all that answered him.

He was quick to realize what was going on.

Scythe’s instincts had taken the reins, and by extension, she likely needed a hand. It was rather tricky to get calmed down from an animalistic, feral state. Especially on your own.

Now, the cowgirl enjoyed letting her instincts run rampant, but that was only when she dealt with criminals who were as crazy as she could be. But Banhammer can tell that this was not the case. Something freaked her out bad enough to send her into frenzy.

The warden fumbles for the key to the bedroom, rifling through his sweatpants’ pockets. Once he has a hand on it, the key could not be jammed into the lock fast enough. The door opens suddenly as he nearly face-plants trying to open it.

He’s met with a seemingly empty room. But the fact that the sheets of the bed have been hastily thrown around, a few pillows are scattered across the room, and the tip of a defensive serpent’s harshly rattling tail is poking out from under the bed says otherwise.

He carefully maneuvers around to the side of the bed. Peering into the abyss beneath, he’s met with the lamplight reflecting off of Scythe’s singular slitted pupil. Her gaze is unfocused, glazed over with panic and confusion. Banhammer can tell she’s shoved herself into the back-most corner of the underbed, partially coiled up.

The warden sighs. The cowgirl looks like she doesn’t recognize him. It’ll be tricky helping her come back to her senses without getting fangs pierced through his hands.

“‘Ey, Desert Flower, jus’ Banhammer, ‘kay?”

He says softly, reaching a hand towards the cowering serpent as slowly and as carefully as possible. Scythe flinches harshly, hissing at him and baring her fangs.

“Scythe, it’s alright, I ain’t gonna hurt’cha.”

He assures her. She just glares daggers at his hand.

He makes the mistake of making a sudden movement, and Scythe lunges at the warden’s hand, fangs at the ready.

He reacts quickly, stopping her in her tracks by gently pushing against her chest. He cups a hand to her cheek with as much carefulness he can muster. He can feel her racing heart even though his hand’s nowhere near her jugular.

“Woooah hey, it’s okay Scythe, you’re safe.”

He coos, gently rubbing the freaked out rattlesnake’s cheek. She sits there, processing what’s happening.

He watches as her pupil returns to its usual, if not slightly dilated, diamond shape and tears form in her eye. She slowly melts into his touch, a sorrowful, hoarse purr emanating from her before long. A trembling hand squeezes Banhammer’s own not too long after.

“Yeah, there ya go, I got’cha.”

He softly assures with a small smile. It physically hurt him to see her so terrified… but, she’s coming back to her senses.

He helps Scythe get out from beneath the bed, and she curls herself up against him.

“I- I’m—“

The cowgirl starts before the warden cuts her off, her voice small, very unlike the boisterous Phighter who was the epitome of “go big or go home”.

“Shush, no need t’ apologize.”

He states, gently running his fingers through her dark curls.

“What freaked ya out so bad? ‘Nother nightmare?”

Scythe nodded.

“Wanna talk about it?”

She fell silent.

“…That stupid cattle prod, coupled wit’ him spoutin’ crap about how loyalty t’ the cult is above everythin’…”

She hissed, tail rattling momentarily at the mere mention of the evil man she called her father.

“Well, how ‘bout this: Yer safe now, no one’s ever gonna hurt’cha like they did ever again, ‘kay? If he starts hecklin’ ya again, don’t be scared t’ wack him with all yer strength, he deserves a good slashing. Even better, bring him to me.”

He reaffirms, leaning down and pressing a kiss to the serpent’s head. His last comment made her chuckle, just a little.

“Thank you.”

Scythe mumbles, sitting up and wrapping her arm around Banhammer in a one-armed hug. He’s quick to embrace her back, gently butting his forehead against hers and enclosing his wings around them both.

The two sit like that for several minutes, basking in each other’s presence and warmth. The cowgirl’s heart-rate has slowed to normal thankfully and tears no longer spill from her eye.

“You want anything to eat?”

He asks, breaking the comfortable silence. Scythe lets out a chuckle.

“I could go for some fried shrimp…”

She muses aloud.

“Sounds good, I’ll get that started.”

Banhammer responds, helping his wife up as he got off the floor.

As he starts towards the door, the cowgirl keeps ahold of his hand. He turns back to her, humming questioningly.

“I love ya, thanks fer puttin’ up with me after all these years.”

She expresses, looking at him with an affectionate gleam in her eye that told so much.

“Hey, I love ya too, and yer issues’ll never get in the way a’ that.”

He replies, pulling her in for another kiss.

Man, I’m so glad I met her… Banhammer thinks to himself as he stares into his beloved cowgirl’s eye, all the while discussing what to eat with the shrimp.