#nebula who I’ve seen grown SO much and is also healing I love you I love you I love you and your anger and your pain and your growth | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bevioletskies · 7 years

Text

20 questions [17/20]

characters: peter/gamora, guardians-centric

fandom: avengers academy/marvel cinematic universe

summary: wasp has a new competition in store for the students of avengers academy, and there’s money involved. so obviously, peter and gamora have to pretend to be a couple in order to win. wait, what?

chapter preview: peter and gamora's "six-month anniversary" date goes about as well as expected.

word count: 7811 | total word count: 118k

a/n: i think this chapter wins for most angst-ridden inner monologues.

ao3 | previously | next | masterpost

The moment Gamora woke up on Saturday morning, she could tell something was wrong. As in, that she had slept so perfectly, so peacefully, that there had to be some sort of catch. Blinking slowly, she found herself mere inches away from Peter’s face, though thankfully his eyes were closed, breathing even, indicating he was still asleep. She chuckled slightly at the way his hair was completely flattened on one side, exposing the burnt parts of his hair. Upon closer inspection, she also noticed the slightest patch of raw skin along the top of his ear. For someone who enjoyed his theatrics, Peter undersold his injuries more than she’d like.

Gamora sat up, stretching and letting out a shivering yawn, before rummaging around in his cabinets for scissors. Peter woke a few minutes later, blinking at her sleepily. “Morning,” he mumbled, his voice deeper than usual, a pleasant sound for her to hear. “You cutting my hair now?”

She hummed in affirmation, twirling her finger to indicate for him to sit up and turn his back to her. He obeyed, moving sluggishly into a seated position and shuffling forwards so she had room to join him on the bed. Once she found what she was looking for, Gamora kneeled behind him and began running her fingers through his hair again so she could get the undamaged strands out of the way. “Are you going to tell me anything about tonight? Or am I completely in the dark on this one?”

“No spoilers,” Peter replied, tipping his head back so he could smile at her. “Just meet me at the quad at 7:30.”

“Can I at least get a dress code? Is this a ‘fancy dinner’ kind of situation, or a ‘dancing at Club Galaxy’ situation?” She made her first definitive cut, catching the hair in her free hand, smiling privately to herself. It was a miracle Peter didn’t burn his hair more often, given the amount of explosions, fires, and general chaos that he let himself get too close to.

“It’s a ‘come as you are’ situation.” He fell silent as she made a few more snips before turning to look at her. “Gamora,” he said gently. “I listened to you last night, you know. Small things, not big gestures, right?”

“Good to know you’re paying attention,” she said evenly, though her heart skipped rather anxiously. “I guess I’ve also been wondering what we’re gonna do once we finally finish our game of 20 Questions.”

“I’ll still answer you,” Peter said almost too quickly, mentally kicking himself for being too eager. “If they’re not too personal.”

“We’ve asked each other a lot of personal things,” Gamora countered. “Is there really anything off the table at this point?”

“Yes.” His immediate response surprised her - what could he possibly have to hide at this point?

“Fair enough.” She made her last cut before moving to deposit the hair into his trash can, then moved back towards him so she could ruffle his hair once more, this time for stray bits, unusually gentle. Peter thought back to Gamora’s comment about romantic gestures, about signs of love. Was it stupid of him to hope that this was one of them, this quiet morning they were sharing? “You want help with your bandages, too?”

“You’re feeling generous today,” he teased. “That’d be great, thanks.” She eyed him expectantly, and he was unsure of what she was waiting for, until he realized she wanted him to take off his shirt. Letting out a shaky exhale, he pulled off his rumpled, ratty T-shirt and threw it in the general direction of his wardrobe. Despite her being the one to check on his injuries and test his physical capabilities, the sleepy, lackadaisical mood of the room was making it feel more intimate. “You sure this wasn’t just a ploy to get my shirt off?”

“You really need to stop thinking everyone wants to sleep with you, Quill,” she shot back, pulling out his med kit from underneath his mattress.

Peter chuckled, causing the rawness of the skin on his torso to flare up a little. He clutched at his side with a groan, leaning forward to rest his head onto her shoulder. “G’mora-a-a, it hurts.”

“Fearless leader, huh?” She patted him on the bare shoulder before slowly hoisting him back up. His eyes crinkled at the corners as he fixated on her face.

“Fearless leader’s you,” he said quietly. “It’s what we’re both here for, right? It’s like you told Natasha - balance.”

She nodded, moving to peel off his old bandages instead of answering. Gamora continued to work in silence, though she could feel Peter’s gaze - soft, warm, inviting. She wanted to lean into the touch, the way his hands came to rest on her hips to keep her steady despite her having perfect balance. His head was still tilted in her direction, as if he wanted to lean on her shoulder again. Deciding to test this theory, she shuffled a little closer, her knees nearly in his lap, as she cleaned his skin. It had almost been three weeks since the building had collapsed on them, but only now had the open wounds on his body closed up, his skin starting to heal over anew, slightly pink and delicate to the touch. She couldn’t help but remember that he would have healed much faster before they had killed Ego. Her own injuries were long gone, as if they had never happened.

“You’re thinkin’ pretty hard about something,” Peter commented after they’d been quiet for ten minutes. His chin was on her shoulder again, though his head was cocked sideways so he could continue watching her.

“Thinking you might need to ask Stark for a suit of armour at this point,” she replied easily, ripping off long strips of medical tape. “Then again, you’d probably hate to be seen in anything but those red leather jackets of yours.”

“Got that right.” Gamora could feel his laughter rumble through his entire body, causing her own shoulder to shake slightly in response. She had him hold the new bandages against his torso as she taped them down, running her fingers along his abdomen so she could check for air bubbles.

Satisfied, she leaned away from him. “All done.” She began packing away the kit, head down as she concentrated on her task, when she felt Peter’s lips brush against her face, kissing her right on the cheek, ever so gently.

“Thanks, Gamora.” He stood, stretching and cracking his knuckles as if nothing had happened, though she could feel her own heart hammering wildly in her chest, even as he left the room to begin his day.

______

Despite looking forward to their “date”, Gamora still felt the heavy sensation of impending demise settling deep into her bones, something, be it knowledge or instinct, that told her that Thanos wasn’t just inevitable, he was almost here. She had messaged Yondu in the middle of the night after Peter had fallen asleep, hoping that he hadn’t done anything stupid, like take off the way Nebula had done, or drowned himself in shitty beer. Thankfully, Rocket had apparently decided to distract him with some work, claiming that he had ways of improving Yondu’s headfin, though she knew Rocket had told her long ago there wasn’t much more he could do.

To Gamora’s surprise, Nebula seemed calmer than she was about the Black Order’s presence. For someone who had been so desperate to fight them not too long ago, her sister appeared to have matured, accepting that they couldn’t go in, swords and guns ablaze, and expect results. Maybe, as terrible as it sounded, finding out that the Ravagers had been taken out so easily by just one of them had made Nebula realize the gravity of the situation. She stepped more carefully, snapped a little less.

The two of them spent the morning with Mantis at the gym, teaching her how to fall. Her instincts were very good, for the most part, but she still had moments where she second-guessed herself and ended up tumbling to the ground in a heap. At the very least, she needed to learn how to fall with minimal injury.

“Again,” Nebula snapped as Mantis landed on her shoulder for the third time that morning. “A fall like that from an immense height, and you will shatter your entire arm. Does that sound fun to you?” The other girl shook her head, somewhat terrified.

In a way, this was Nebula’s way of showing that she cared. If she didn’t like Mantis, she wouldn’t be putting this much effort into her training, probably would have never agreed to help in the first place. The anger in her eyes wasn’t out of dislike for Mantis, it was out of frustration that she couldn’t get what she wanted out of her so that she would be stronger. Still, it was difficult for Gamora to watch it happen. Mantis, like every other Academy student, had never grown up in the constant presence of the Mad Titan himself, could never dream of what he was capable of, or what he would be like should he get his hands on the completed Infinity Gauntlet. Maybe Nebula had been onto something when she had taken off from the school, though not for the right reasons.

As Mantis landed on her elbow and let out a cry of pain, it suddenly became clear to Gamora. It wasn’t about taking on Thanos alone. It was about taking the fight away from the school, away from all these people who didn’t deserve to be hurt. The Ravagers hadn’t even seen Yondu since he joined the Guardians, and yet they’d been punished, merely for being an associate of an associate. Men (of admittedly loose morals and questionable honour) had been killed, just to prove that Thanos would, and could, do it. What was to become of everyone else? The students that had never signed up for this war, the faculty that tried their damnedest to protect them. And then, the rest of the planet.

Suddenly, the thought of being “stronger together” sounded quite ominous. It threatened the very nature of this school, of this life that they lived. She and Nebula needed to find associates who could handle Thanos, not good-hearted, strong, but ultimately underpowered people like...well, like Peter. He was a surprisingly good tactician, incredible with his quad blasters, and quick on his feet, but Thanos would swat him like a fly.

Gamora hadn’t told him, but a new nightmare had become a part of her consistent rotation, one in which Thanos had arrived to Earth, ready for battle, and crushed the Guardians, one by one, under his feet before her very eyes. He would always save Peter for last. “Terrans,” he would sneer in her face. “Gamora, you disappoint me. Falling for a Terran. A primitive race, wouldn’t you say? Weak.”

“PETER!” she would scream, every single time, arms outstretched, but it was too late. She couldn’t reach him. Peter would be crumpled on the ground, oddly bloodless (the only thing that signified she was still dreaming), though there would be a smear of it across his face, the same dark red as his beloved jacket. When she finally managed to get to him, taking his rapidly-cooling hand in hers, all she would be able to sense was Thanos’s mocking laughter from above.

“Useless,” he would say. “Absolutely useless. Not just the boy, but you. You were my favourite daughter, Gamora, but no longer. You think yourself above being a weapon? You want to live the life of a stupid Terran? I made you. I built you, every system in your body, every bit of metal that you feel, holding you together. And now, I’m taking you apart, piece by piece.”

It scared her every time, how realistic it felt. How plausible it was for Thanos to arrive and do such a thing. Gamora knew now that she would do anything to prevent it from happening, not just to the Guardians, but to everyone else at this school, everyone else on this planet.

Even if it meant leaving it behind.

______

Peter, meanwhile, had decided to spend most of his day with Yondu. It had been quite awhile since they had some quality “bro time”, as Peter enthusiastically called it, like their old Ravager days, when it had just been the two of them against the galaxy. He always thought fondly of the times they pulled pranks while living on the Eclector together, sneaking sleeping pills (or if they were feeling especially terrible, laxatives) into the food of the commanders that picked on them, or hiding razor blades in the captain’s seat cushions (Stakar was unfortunately too clever to fall for it, considering he had pulled similar practical jokes when he was younger).

Unfortunately for Yondu, it wasn’t a day for pranks, but rather, a day for homework. Peter was relatively caught up, thanks to Gamora’s insistence (as in, she told him she wouldn’t watch Return of the Jedi until he had finished everything), but Yondu, ever the slacker, was astonishingly behind.

“You tryna torture me or somethin’?” Yondu grumbled, reaching for his eraser. “I got better things to do, Quill.”

“Like what?” Peter snorted. He was half-distracted by his tablet, having become rather obsessed with checking in on articles about the Guardians. As cute as Groot was, Peter wanted to talk to Pepper about taking legal action against people who published photos of the little one without his knowledge. Photo of Groot splashing in a birdbath? Adorable. Photo of Groot getting stuck under a pile of rubble and crying for help? Deplorable. “All you ever do around here is nap and chase girls.”

“Wha’d’ya mean, like what?” Yondu got to his feet, throwing his pencil down. From where Peter was sitting, he could tell Yondu hadn’t written a single word or number since they had sat down at the table thirty minutes ago. “Your girlfriend ain’t tell you what’s happened?”

Peter frowned in confusion. He hadn’t really seen Yondu since he and the girls had gone to talk to Director Fury, but he had chalked it up to Yondu wanting to avoid everyone else, as he often did. “I’m gonna let that comment slide - what did Fury say?”

Yondu laughed, though it was cold, cruel, mocking, even. “Thought you two shared everything. How about that? Quill, a bunch of our boys got killed. All ‘cause of Gamora’s daddy sending one of his minions after ‘em. That’s what.”

Peter felt every muscle in his body seize up at the mere thought of Thanos. The Ravagers, as awful as they could be, didn’t deserve to die, especially not in whatever ruthless, cold-hearted manner that had befallen them. “Yondu, I...I don’t know what to say. I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t worry, I’m not blaming your girl,” he sighed, sitting back down. There was an exhaustion to him that Peter had never seen before, a stark contrast to his usual devil-may-care attitude, not a salacious smirk or lecherous grin in sight. “She ain’t the one forcin’ me to be a Guardian.”

“So you’re saying this is my fault.”

“Don’t be stupid, boy,” Yondu snapped. “I didn’t have to follow ya here, did I? I made my own choice, and now my boys have paid the price when they aren’t the ones buying. And now, I’m wonderin’ whether this was all worth it, and I’ll bet you Gamora’s thinkin’ the same thing. After all, she’s on the straight and narrow now, but she’s getting people killed just by being on this here planet. How much longer you think she can take that kind of guilt?”

In lieu of answering, Peter carried on instead. “Why didn’t she tell me?”

“Probably to protect you or some shit,” Yondu said, rolling his eyes. “Me? I think you need to know, Quill, ‘cause you’re the one that’s gonna figure out how to get us outta this mess. What’re you gonna do about it, huh?”

Honestly, Peter didn’t want to think about it, what it could mean if Thanos was getting that much closer. As Mantis had said to him, Gamora was the rational one - she probably had a million tactical plans dancing about in her brain, but all he could think about was how much it would ruin everything that everyone had worked so hard for. The entire planet, decimated. It would make Ronan and Ego look like child’s play. “Kraglin - did he make it?”

“Krag’s okay. He’s a tough one,” Yondu said, cracking the slightest of smiles at the thought of his second-in-command. “I told him, he should be captain while I’m away. Didn’t listen to me. Now, he’s probably considerin’.”

“He’d be great at it,” Peter said gently. He folded his hands in his lap, unsure of what else to say that wasn’t already implied. All those faces he’d forgotten, men he hadn’t seen in at least two years. Though he had never been as close to Kraglin as both of them were to Yondu, he had also been something of a brother, another scrappy kid who enjoyed mischief and mayhem. Kraglin had enjoyed listening to Peter’s music, becoming particularly fond of a few songs, so much so that Peter would hear him humming under his breath while he worked. On days where Yondu had been too cranky, or as they got older, too busy to spend time with them, he and Kraglin would do their chores together, while Peter left his music running, turning up the volume as high as he could without annoying the other Ravagers.

Those men? Now dead and gone, or as Gamora had put it at the funeral so many weeks ago, “only one person who knew them at all”. Yondu, who had chosen to follow Peter here instead of remain back with them. He had picked one guy, someone who wasn’t even supposed to become a Ravager, was intended to be delivered to his father until Yondu had begged Stakar to let Peter stay, over the hundreds that he had led for a good five years in Stakar’s absence. Peter wondered how many of the remaining Ravagers would resent Peter for the rest of their lives.

______

Nebula, for all her feigned ignorance and apathy, could immediately tell when something was wrong with Gamora. They had spent years learning how to conceal emotions, and yet there would still be slips, a little twitch of her eye or a quirk of her mouth, that would reveal her true feelings. The moment Mantis had hit the mat wrong and Gamora had nearly jumped at the impact, Nebula knew it wasn’t just about the fall.

After Mantis left the gym to pick up lunch for the three of them, Nebula pulled Gamora aside, away from the barre where she was stretching. “What is it?”

“I don’t know what you’re referring to,” Gamora said evenly, rubbing at her forearm where Nebula had grabbed her.

“Don’t play dumb, sister, it doesn’t suit you,” Nebula hissed. “You had a pretty strong reaction to Mantis’s fall, but it wasn’t the thought of injury that scared you. So, don’t make me ask again.”

Gamora’s eyes flickered sideways, almost guilty, before she answered. “Our classmates, our friends. They aren’t ready for the kind of pain that Thanos will cause. You were right, Nebula. We shouldn’t be here. But not because we need to take on Thanos, but because we need to protect them from Thanos. Those Ravagers were killed because of us, not Yondu. And here we are, at a school full of Earth’s mightiest heroes, ripe for the taking. All it would take is one single ambush, and everyone here is gone. Dead. Then this planet falls, because no one will be left to protect them.” She let out a long sigh, throwing herself down onto the mat and flinging out her arms in front of her, unusually childlike in her movements. “I thought we had more time than this, Nebula. But we don’t.”

Nebula’s dark gaze fixated on her sister’s face. She looked shaken in a way she never had before. Gamora had been frightened a handful of times when they were under Thanos’s thumb - spooked at the first dead body she had laid eyes on, conflicted over her own power when she had been presented with the Godslayer, terrified when Thanos had first torn her apart. But now, there was more at stake than just her own life, and it left her paralyzed with fear.

“You want to leave.” It wasn’t a question. “After all your lectures about being better with other people by your side, about teamwork, you wish to abandon them.”

“I want to save them,” Gamora said fiercely. “We need to stop Thanos before he gets to Terra. We know him better than anyone, we grew up alongside his children, the Black Order. We can’t get the upper hand if we remain here, with too many people to worry about.”

“But it’s too late for you,” Nebula said mockingly, leaning over her sister and prodding her finger aggressively into Gamora’s chest. “You can’t detach yourself from these people, Gamora, you love them. You’ve always been softer than me, always thinking about the innocent lives you’ve taken in the name of order.”

“Is that what you call Thanos’s treachery? Order?”

“I answered to Ronan, not Thanos, and look what became of him. Because of you and your precious Guardians!” Nebula shouted. Other students were starting to stare, wondering if they should get Ares and have him break up the inevitable fight before it began. “All because you were so concerned - ”

“Billions of people were going to die, Nebula! Does that not matter to you? And it’s going to happen again, and again, unless we make this stop.” Tears threatened to leak from Gamora’s eyes, her voice cracking on her last words. She ducked into her elbow to hide her face, though she knew Nebula had already caught a glimpse of her expression. “And yes. Maybe I have become too attached to this planet, these people, to ever truly be objective,” she continued, trembling. “And that’s why we should at least consider the possibility of leaving to finish the job.”

Nebula exhaled slowly, her breath shaky. Though she would deny it to her grave, and it seemed as if that possibility were closer than ever, she was worried as well. “You are telling me what I said to you a month ago. Don’t have to ask me twice.” She finally settled onto the mat beside her sister, casting an almost shy glance down at the floor. “Please make up your mind at some point, will you? It’s exhausting to put up with your indecision.” Gamora let out a watery chuckle, reaching over to squeeze Nebula’s arm.

______

Peter arrived at the quad at 7:30 PM sharp, feeling a bit idiotic standing around alone. Gamora had messaged him two minutes ago that she would be late, as Groot apparently needed something from her, but part of him worried that she wasn’t going to show. It felt like it was a real date, but instead of a six-month anniversary, as they were calling it, there was a sense of it being the first date.

After all, it wasn’t like their weekend trip into the city, or their movie nights, or even all the times they had fallen asleep together. They were meeting up instead of arriving together, and Peter had planned out something special, despite the fact they could have very easily just told Janet and the others any sort of lie and have them accept it as gospel. Peter wasn’t sure who he and Gamora were trying to fool at this point.

“Hey.” He turned to see Gamora standing there, who seemed to have taken the suggestion of “come as you are” quite seriously. She was in the clothes she had left the Milano in this morning, her “uniform” of a tank top and leggings, along with her red leather duster coat, possibly his favourite piece of clothing that she owned. He liked to think it was her subconscious decision to match him, to present a united front as leaders of the Guardians, or perhaps more intimately, her equivalent of couples’ matching T-shirts. “I managed to convince Groot that Mantis could help him. I don’t really know what he wanted, but it didn’t seem too urgent. So, what are we doing tonight?”

Peter smiled, reaching out for her hand. “You trust me?”

“Somehow, yes,” she said teasingly, sliding their palms together, tangling her fingers with his. They walked in silence for a couple minutes, occasionally gazing up at the night sky or glancing around them, before she spoke again. “Strange, isn’t it? How it all came down to this?”

“What do you mean?”

“You asked me if I had any regrets, doing this,” Gamora replied, squeezing his hand. “And thinking back, maybe I have just one. Not getting you know you better beforehand.”

“Imagine how much smoother missions would’ve gone if we knew how to talk to each other,” Peter chuckled.

“We’re never going to fully agree on tactics, Quill,” she said, though she was smiling and nodding as she said it. “I just mean...all the time we spent apart, never being curious beyond ‘how are you today’, never asking the right questions. When you almost died on Ego’s planet, I had nothing to say to you. How did I let that happen?”

“You weren’t in the business of heart-to-hearts, Gamora, that’s not a bad thing. It wouldn’t have been genuine if you had poked around any more than you did.”

“And that’s where you’re wrong again.” He turned to look at her, noting the melancholy in her eyes. “I think...I’ve always cared about you and the others, ever since we became a team. It was a matter of me not understanding how to show it.”

“Makes sense,” Peter nodded, swallowing. “Thanos...he taught you loyalty, not sentiment. Right?”

“His teachings have shaped me into who I am today,” Gamora said wistfully, her eyelids flickering, the sunset bathing her in orange light that left shadows dancing across her cheeks. She fell silent again, though Peter was half-hoping she would bring up the Ravagers, what Thanos had done to them. Unsurprisingly, she didn’t, though he had a feeling it was the cause of the crease in her brow.

Fifteen minutes later, they arrived at a completely vacant grove. It was an area of the campus that was undeveloped, where students - couples, mostly - went to for privacy. It wasn’t particularly special, aside from being relatively quiet and far away from the heavily populated areas of the school, so Gamora couldn’t help but gasp a little at the transformation. One particular area had a perfect semi-circular formation of trees, with branches that hung low enough to provide some shade during the day, and at night, created curtains of moonlight. Peter had borrowed the string lights Janet had used for the fundraiser festival and hung them along the tree trunks. He had an old gingham blanket laid out on the grass, one of its edges right up against the treeline, and on top of it, a wicker picnic basket and a box of -

Gamora laughed at the sight, letting go of Peter’s hand so she could cover her mouth. “Pizza.”

“I don’t know what your favourite food is, but I know you like pizza,” Peter admitted. He opened the basket and pulled out some drink cans and his holo-tab. “Classic date night - dinner and a movie?”

“In complete privacy,” she said, glancing around. There were some students spending their evening studying outside, but they were far enough that they wouldn’t be able to hear anything, and, once she and Peter were tucked away underneath the trees, wouldn’t be able to see them, either.

“We’ll take another selfie for Janet.”

“That’s not what I was thinking about.” She took his hand again and walked them over, once again, seemingly finishing her train of thought in her own head. Peter figured it would be best not to pry, half-hoping that this “date” (and he hated that he had to use mental quotation marks) would finally provide him some answers. To what, he couldn’t be sure yet.

They sat cross-legged as they began eating their dinner, knees brushing as Peter found himself fidgeting a little more than usual. Gamora had steered the conversation towards Guardians talk, as she often did, and how they needed to review the budget again as soon as the prize money would be presented to them in about three week’s time.

“We’ve got at least ten thousand units in the bag, hey?” Peter said, smiling at her.

“Plus another fifty for Best Team,” she added, holding out her soda can for him to knock his against. He complied, grinning wider.

After they had finished eating and chatting, Peter pulled up Return of the Jedi, projecting it onto the thick canopy of branches above them. As they laid down, he was surprised to find Gamora instinctively curling up against him, despite not being in his cramped bed back on the Milano, her hair fanning out slightly onto his shoulder. She was otherwise quite silent as they watched, as she often was, enraptured in the stories of the space heroes. “You still think we’re like Han and Leia?” Peter whispered as they watched her free him from the carbonite.

Gamora didn’t reply until after Leia had finished kissing Han. “I wouldn’t mind it,” she said softly. If anything, her response left Peter with more questions than answers, but maybe he wasn’t as far off as he had originally thought. After the movie was over, she asked about other movies he had in mind for her, though he could only give her half-hearted answers, as it felt like his head was up among the stars. “Peter, are you okay?”

He was startled at the sound of his first name, though he tried his best not to show it. “I was just...thinking. There was this story I always wanted to tell you, but I never really thought you would care to hear it, but, y’know, now, you probably wouldn’t mind. It’s about my mom.”

Her hand came to rest on his bicep, her face partially buried in his shoulder. “Go on.”

“So, uh, when I was a kid, my mom and I, we had this tradition. She came from a somewhat religious family, and even though she wasn’t super religious herself, we went to church on Sunday mornings like she had done when she was a kid. And I didn’t really like going because I just wanted to play outside instead of sitting still for hours at a time. But she promised that we could do something fun on Sunday night if I went with her. Sometimes it’d be going to the playground, or Dairy Queen to get Dilly Bars, but my favourite thing to do was watch the stars. My mom drove this old rust bucket of a pickup truck, and it’s not the kind of car people expected someone like her to drive, but she loved it. We’d go out to the open field about ten minutes from our house, and put out this blanket on the truck bed, turn on the Walkman, and watch the sky until midnight. Wasn’t the greatest idea for a kid my age on a school night, and I’d always be tired all Monday, but it was one of the best memories I had with her.”

“This very blanket?” Gamora asked, patting the gingham beneath them. It was definitely worn through, with a couple of mismatched patches where there had been holes, and what looked like a stubborn mustard stain somewhere near her hip. It was a blanket that had very clearly been well loved, and well taken care of.

“It was one of the things I had in my backpack when I - well. I took a lot of stuff from the house and put ‘em in there so I could bring it to the hospital. I thought that there had to be something that could help her get better.” Peter inhaled sharply. “Good thing I did, since it was the only thing I had on me when the Ravagers abducted me. Meant I could carry memories of her with me, take her out to space. She would’ve loved it.” He wiped his eyes on his sleeve, clearing his throat hastily as he resumed his story. “I remember, one night, I asked my mom where my nickname came from. I mean, now I kinda know it came from her sort of knowing who my dad really was, and I don’t like that part of it, but at the time, I had no idea. I said, ‘which star am I, Mom? Out of all the stars in the night sky, which one am I?’. And she told me, ‘baby, whichever one you want to be’.”

Gamora could feel tears burning in her eyes as well, turning her face to fully bury herself into Peter’s shoulder so he wouldn’t see. Out of all the things she had learned about him, one of the first she had ever known, long before they began their little game born of boredom, was his everlasting love and admiration of his mother. It was, in fact, one of the very first questions she had asked him, back on Knowhere - the significance of his Walkman, why he valued it so much. It also made her a little furious, thinking of Ego and his careless, blasé attitude towards Meredith and by extension, Peter himself. “Question,” she said, though she wondered if she was going to regret asking. “Do you still think of your father sometimes, even after what he did to you? To her?”

“A little bit less every day,” he answered, turning onto his side so they were face-to-face. “Though...a part of me wishes I had learned more about him. Like what he did to the other kids, or how he treated Mantis. She won’t tell me anything, and the fact that she won’t answer makes me worry that there’s more to it than just apathy. Or...how he managed to kill my mother despite knowing he was falling in love with her.” He swallowed loudly. “I can’t imagine having it in me to intentionally hurt someone that I loved.”

“But what if knowing made you more sympathetic? What if it changed your mind about killing him?”

“Nothing could change my mind about that. He killed her, and he almost killed all of you.” There was a ferocity in his expression that told her he would have never given it a second thought. “Um, question.” He cleared his throat. “What’s the happiest you’ve ever been?”

It felt like a sudden mood whiplash. Was that really what Peter wanted to know, right in this moment? Their faces were so close that Gamora could count his eyelashes, see the hints of teardrops glossing them over. She wanted to wipe the dampness on his cheeks away. “There’s no specific thing I can think of. Anytime I’m with you and the others, I suppose. Even when we fight.”

He cracked a weak smile, reaching for his Walkman as he spoke. “I’m glad that we can be that for you. I mean, we’re all like that for each other, right? I mean, we’re a pretty freaking weird group of people, but we somehow managed to make a pretty good team. The ‘Best Team’, even!”

Peter got to his feet, holding out his hand for Gamora to take, pulling her up to join him. With her nod of permission, he slid the headphones neatly over her ears and pressed play, watching her face carefully. The music started off slow, almost melancholy, as he took her hands up once again and began turning them in slow, even paces. They hadn’t danced since the hotel room, two whole months ago, before Nebula had disappeared, before their botched mission, before all the understandings and misunderstandings in between. He leaned in closer, his mouth ghosting over her ear, singing softly. “Stop...the world...tonight...oh, let me stay...in your arms...forever...” Tentatively, Gamora let her head rest against his chest, a motion that would have felt so foreign before, now a comfort, his steady heartbeat drumming beneath her cheek. “And where...all my dreams...start to spin...love...oh, love...begins...” He trailed off, pulling away from her so he could look at her face. There was a different sort of sadness on his face this time, like a resignation to something she couldn’t recognize.

“Peter?”

“When were you planning on telling me about the Ravagers?”

“Peter,” she said again, forlornly. “I...that wasn’t mine to tell. It was Yondu’s men.”

“Killed by Thanos’s employees.” Though she expected him to sound angry, or at the very least, frustrated, he sounded just about as emotionally drained as he looked. “You’re going to do it, aren’t you? Leave the school, permanently.”

“I don’t want to, but maybe I don’t have a choice,” Gamora frowned. “You said once that I came out of my upbringing wanting to help people, and this is how I can help. Taking the fight elsewhere, so Thanos can face Nebula and I directly.”

“That’s not a fight, that’s a suicide mission,” he said fiercely. “Gamora, you’re going against what you’ve been telling Nebula this whole time. You’ve made it pretty clear that you agree with me - we aren’t friends, we’re family. We’re capable of more when we’re with each other. All you’re going to accomplish by going against Thanos alone is get yourself killed faster, and maybe delay him a little bit longer before he gets here.”

“I never said I liked the idea of leaving,” Gamora protested. “But maybe it has to be done. And I’m not asking you to come with me, because let’s be real here, Peter, you won’t be able to help at all.”

“Right, because I’m the weak one.”

“Because you didn’t train like Nebula and I have!” she yelled, fully yanking herself away from him, taking off the headphones and shoving them into his chest. “Stop thinking that I see you as an inferior being, Peter. It’s a matter of different skill sets, and - ”

“ - no, you see, I got it all wrong! Back on Ego, I thought you wanted me to keep being Terran so you’d be the stronger one, but you asking me if I regret killing him - you want me to have my Celestial powers back, don’t you? Otherwise you think I’m useless!”

“Stop putting words in my mouth,” she hissed. “And stop talking yourself down so I’ll talk you back up. I’m not here to make you feel better about yourself.”

“Then what are you here for, huh?” Peter looked triumphant as Gamora had finally fallen silent, arms folded across her chest in defiance. “What were all those words you threw at me? Despicable, dishonourable, faithless, insufferable? Is that what you look for in a friend? What happened to all that when we started this, this fake relationship of ours?”

“I don’t have to listen to this. And I don’t have to answer to you,” she said, her voice dangerously low. “If you insist on acting like a child, it’ll make it that much easier for me to leave.”

For the first time in ages, Gamora felt like she wanted to run away from him. This had never been a good idea from the start, had it? This relationship ruse, all just a prolonged extension of how she had become too comfortable on this planet, with these people. Holding his hand, chatting for hours, sharing his bed, tentatively flirting with him in the hopes he would understand her intentions. Teaching Mantis how to fight, training with Drax, combating her worst fears with Rocket, looking after Groot - every single moment she had spent with the others was another moment in which she hesitated about leaving to finish the job. She loved them too much.

Loved him too much.

“Gamora,” Peter sighed, reaching for her. “That was...I shouldn’t have said it. But can you really blame a guy for wanting to know?”

“You’re asking me what I have to gain out of your friendship? As if this is just some transaction?” She laughed hollowly, sending shivers down his spine. “Then let me turn this around on you. I barely remember our first meeting, but I remember how insistent you were on tailing me ever since. You made it pretty clear that you saw me as another potential notch on your bedpost. Are you sure that’s not still the case?”

He pulled away again, rage burning in his usually sweet, gentle eyes. Gamora stepped back, somewhat fearful. “Is that what you’ve been thinking this whole time? That I’ve been doing all this with the endgame of sleeping with you? Are we really having this argument?”

She let out a long, unsteady breath, her arms falling to her side, limp. “All we ever seem to do is fight,” Gamora said resignedly, echoing the words Nebula had said to her on Ego’s planet. “Maybe this doesn’t make us family after all. Maybe we’re just a group of people who have spent too long holding on to each other, and we can’t figure out how to let go.”

“If that’s what you need to tell yourself to feel better about leaving.” Peter sat back down, leaning forward to wrap his arms around his bent knees. She had always thought of him as being tall, broad, somewhat physically imposing (until Drax came around), but now, she had never seen him look so small. “Gamora...if you want to leave, I’m not going to stop you. I’ll want to try, but it’s your life, your choice, not mine. But to be honest? I don’t really know what I’m gonna do without you. And if you leave, we’ll probably never see each other again. You know that, right?”

His head came to rest on his knees, giving her the option of walking away without him watching her go. He could feel his breath coming in shallow, as if he couldn’t get enough air in his lungs to go on. To his surprise, he felt Gamora kneeling next to him, her arms wrapping around his entire body, her hair flung haphazardly across his back, her face buried against his. She smelled like her shampoo - nothing floral or fruity, but something more woodsy, musky. Warm. And her arms, strong as ever, holding him almost too tight, yet just enough to keep him together. Because yeah, maybe he was starting to fall apart.

His legs went slack against the ground, and, feeling brave, Peter slowly pulled Gamora onto his lap, her knees braced on either side of his hips. She pressed her face into his neck, and his went to her shoulders, his arms around her waist, inhaling slowly. “Hey. Do...do you have any idea how much I care about you?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” she replied softly. “But I think we’re both too afraid to know the answer.”

“Especially if you leave,” he said, lifting his head so he could look at her. “Maybe it’s better we don’t know.”

“Or maybe,” she said slowly, “we’ll just...know, and choose not to believe it.”

“Sounds like a plan,” he laughed weakly.

“Peter...I’ll tell you when I make my decision. But it’s going to have to be soon. I can’t let it happen again.”

He wisely didn’t tell her that Thanos could very well be killing hundreds of thousands of people right now, and they would never know. All he wanted to feel was her hands interlaced against his back, her full weight resting against his chest, trusting that he would keep her steady. It was stupid, but he felt as if the moment he let go, she would leave and never come back.

They stayed intertwined for what felt like forever and not enough. After all of this, Peter felt like he had failed. All his improvised speeches, his insistence on teamwork, all the missions and jobs in the world, none of which would convince her to stay when it came down to the endgame, the biggest endeavour of her life. And he’d failed in another way, too - being too cowardly to tell her how he felt. They were close, so close, to saying it out loud, that he was certain if he kissed her now, she would respond in kind, but what good would that do if she were leaving anyways? It was like he had said to Yondu so long ago - he wasn’t in the business of getting hurt. Besides, it would be selfish of him to think that her feelings for him alone would convince her not to go. He was important to her, that much he knew, but he also knew that in a way, Gamora felt as if defeating Thanos had become her true purpose in life, after everything she had done under his rule. As the stupid saying goes, Peter thought as he slowly dropped his arms away from her waist. If you love something, set it free. And I do. I do love her.

Gamora got to her feet, though not before kissing Peter on the cheek so quickly that he wasn’t sure he hadn’t just imagined it. She wiped at her eyes despite them looking relatively dry, smiling at him tentatively. “We should head back now, it’s almost midnight. Director’s not gonna be happy.”

“Right,” he said, clearing his throat for what felt like the fiftieth time that night. He quickly packed everything up and stood, allowing Gamora to take his hand and walk them back to the dorms.

“So, what’s the happiest you’ve ever been?” she asked.

“Probably when we first became a team.” This surprised her - she had been expecting another memory of his mother. “It was like everything falling into place. Like I didn’t realize how much I needed other people until we all came together.”

“We were a disaster back then,” Gamora chuckled. “But...I know what you mean. Like we were biding our time until we found each other.”

Once they stopped outside of Gamora’s door, Peter turned to face her, taking both her hands in his. “So. When you look back at this, this, fake relationship of ours. What we’re like now, what we were like before. How much of it are you gonna take with you?”

Her eyes cast downwards to their joined hands, wondering how many more chances she would get to hold them. Looking back up, she opened her mouth to answer.

a/n: well, they sort of confessed, didn't they? here is the song they danced to until it all went kind of sideways.

next chapter is a bit of fun - it's going to be entirely flashbacks (aka gamora's answer to peter's question), detailing how they met and became the team we know and love in this mash-up universe of mine. i hope you guys will like it, since it sort of reimagines the events of both movies.

#starmora #peter quill #gamora #guardians of the galaxy #avengers academy #myfic #myfic: 20q #marvel #uhh sorry for the angst?#next chapter is honestly kind of cute tho #y'all get to see how their first meeting went in this verse

8 notes · View notes