Naga!Pythor x Reader

Talking Animals? You Would Think This Was a Disney Movie, but Those End Well

"Mistakes are made in pain," you whispered.

After a few moments, you looked around the space, at the plain concept and colors of the room, a medical prison of sorts.

"Can I leave here? I think it's only my face that's messed up, not the rest of me," you asked.

"I would think you could, but I'll inquire," he smoothly pressed the call button.

"I mean, I'm a little weak and hungry, but I think I'm good," you swung your legs out from under the sheet, off the bed, and onto the floor.

Only to realize that you were wearing a paper thin hospital gown with one side untied.

You froze like a doe in the headlights, your temperature rising as Pythor's eyes widened.

You yelped, scrabbling for the sheet behind you, which only succeeded in flaring the gown and exposing more of you.

Pythor coughed, looked down swiftly, shifted his hips, and covered his face.

The nurse entered, bowed to him with a foot sweep, and he looked up, suave and calm as always, while you were still sputtering, the sheet wound around you, a blush blazing across your face.

"Is she cleared to be released?" Pythor said smoothly.

The nurse gave you a quick glance, then addressed him, "If she's feeling –alright," she looked at your distressed state, "then I don't see why not. I'll check with the doctor."

"Where are my clothes?!" you squeaked out.

She pointed, raising an eyebrow, "The closet. We washed them."

She gave another quick bow to Pythor and exited.

You made a spastic motion towards the closet and then the bathroom.

"Would you- prefer me- to leave?" he tested each word.

"No, no-please stay- I was just telling you- what I was-doing," you stammered, cutting yourself off before you got anymore foolish than that.

He looked down, winding the end of his tail through his hands as you took off to the other side of the room, entering the bathroom and throwing on your old clothes. Throwing the cloak over your shoulders, you took some instant comfort in the royal colored scales. You heard the doctor enter sometime during the process, from the accent you supposed it to be the same Fangpyre that treated you after the Schlange incident.

The doctor gave a slight smile as you re-entered the room. He proceeded to question you about your state, with a couple brief questions contributed by Pythor, and went through the tedious process of dilating your pupils, checking your temperature, and all the various other medical necessities.

Finally satisfied, he dismissed you, and you left with Pythor. The infirmary proved to be on one of the lower levels of the palace, and with your shaky limbs you ended up riding him back up to his floor, head slumped against the nape of his neck.

When you reached his door, a Constrictai guard was posted, giving a slight bow to Pythor.

"Hello, warrior of the Constrictai," you nodded to him, speaking in Serpentine.

A repressed smile twisted across his stoic features, "Hello, human of the Anacondrai."

You saw Pythor give a sly grin ahead of you.

You followed him into the room, closing the door behind you. You flopped down onto the couch, Pythor scrutinizing over the papers strewn across the coffee table.