Spies and Lies: A Striker x Reader Fanfiction

Chapter Five

   You approached the motel with caution, making sure no eyes were on you. You gently knocked on the door. It took Striker a minute to answer the door and when he opened it, he smirked at you.

   "Ah, (Y/N)! Come on in." He gestured for you to walk past him into the room. He shut the door and walked over to where you were standing awkwardly in the middle of the room. He gestured to the table in the room.

   "Take a seat." You hesitated, but sat down, not wanting to aggravate him. He went over to the small kitchen and poured two glasses of whiskey on ice. He brought them to the table and sat himself down across from you. He slid one of the glasses to you and you decided not to drink it just yet. He took a large sip from his whiskey before setting the glass down and turning his attention to you.

   "So what info have you gathered so far?" You couldn't help but feel a weight in your chest. Giving him information and being a spy made you feel guilty, after all you were basically betraying your family.

   "They've had quite a few clients and I'm still stuck being the secretary. I haven't heard much about Stolas lately other than Blitzo answering a call from him earlier this week." You frowned at the memory of the argument you and Blitzo had gotten into.

   "Blitzo got a phone call from Stolas...that's it, that's all you've got?"

   "Well it's not like I can hear their conversations. Blitzo left the room! He used it as an excuse to escape the argument we were-" Striker cut you off.

    "I could care less about the shit you're going through. I need information. What are the conversations about?" You chuckled at the thought of that.

   "I'm not so sure you want to know what those two talk about over the phone. I've sadly been graced with overhearing the wrong parts of some conversations and I've heard things I can't unhear." Striker sighed. You could tell he was visibly frustrated.

   "I'm too sober for this bullshit." He took another swig of his drink and decided to change the subject.

   "Drink the whiskey. It's infused with the antidote." You stared down at the glass, still hesitant to drink it.

   "I'm sorry, but I'm just having a hard time trusting anything you're saying, after all, you did hold me at gunpoint and you poisoned me. How do I know the whiskey isn't poisoned too?" He smirked and drank the rest of his whiskey. He reached across the table, grabbing your glass and took a sip out of that as well.

   "That enough proof for you darlin'?"

   "And how do I know that you're not lying to me? You could be immune to your own poison." He gave a smug smile.

   "Frankly I don't give a damn if you trust me or not. You're damned if you do and you're damned if you don't. Any other stupid questions?" You felt flustered, knowing he was right. You gently lifted the glass to your lips and threw back the libation. You could feel Striker's smirk from across the table. He got up and grabbed the bottle of whiskey and poured another glass for the both of you.

   "I already drank the antidote. I don't need to get drunk around you." Your tone was accusing.

   "Really? One glass? I could drink more than that when I was two." His smirk taunted you. You groaned before lifting the glass to your lips to drink more.

   "So what the hell is your story anyways? Where are you from?" You asked, attempting small talk.

   "Somewhere other than here." Smart ass.

  "So...how's the weather in wrath?" He ignored you, pouring his third glass of whiskey. You took another sip of your glass, still working on the second.

   "What's your favorite color?" He still wasn't answering.

   "What kind of music do you like?" You asked with a hesitant tone. You were running out of ideas. He threw back the glass of whiskey and sighed.

   "Why aren't you answering me?" You asked, frustrated.

   "What's your favorite sex position?" He asked, blunt as could be. You felt your cheeks flush more red than they already were. His frustration turned into a smug grin.

   "Wow, didn't know you could be quiet. Guess all it takes is embarrassing you."

   "So why are you trying to kill Stolas? I just wanna know why I'm helping you out."

   "Does it really matter why? Someone paid a lot of money to want that ditzy blue blood dead and...why am I even telling you this?" You returned his confident smirk.

   "Dunno, but at least you're talking to me like a person." He stayed silent, probably annoyed with you gaining control over the conversation.

   "I just don't see why anyone would want him dead. I know he's an overlord and all, but he's a fairly decent demon from what I can tell. He cares about Blitzo a lot."

   "You gotta be joking. Royals don't give a shit about imps like Blitzo. Stolas is just as self conceited and shitty as the rest of them." He sighed before taking another sip of his glass. You were silent for a moment before speaking up again.

   "Oh come on. Nothing else you want to tell me?" You asked, a flirtatious undertone to your words.

   "No, I've got nothing else to say. Do you have anything else to add to your shitty report?" You frowned.

   "Weren't you going to tell me what everyone else knows about me? The reason Blitzo won't let me go on jobs?" He chuckled at your questions.

   "Nice try Darlin'. When you become a competent spy I'll tell you that information." Damn, you thought you'd had him convinced.

   "By the way, the antidote is only enough to bide time. You aren't completely cured yet. See you in two weeks darlin'."