aromantically | ( OPEN ) Peter Q

Gamora shuts her eyes, going to rest her back to the wall as she tries to get it together. It only makes it worse. Flashes of images dance behind her eyes. She opens her eyes, feeling twin tears stream down her cheek. She feels hysterical. Predictably to Peter at the very least, Gamora lashes out.

"Go away!" She hates the sound of her voice. Gamora sounds like an angry child crying in her room. A stray thought dangerously asks, Isn't that what she is being? Beneath her all that anger is a very real fear that something she can't explain is happening to her. That has never boded well. Peter could help her. She's positive he'd do anything if she asked him too as uncomfortable as that truth makes her. Gamora lapses into silence as she mulls on that or more accurately gets past her own ego.

She didn't come out here, so he doesn't allow it to sway him, instead sliding down the wall to sit and wait her out.

"I can't," he admits, sounding exhausted, mostly because he is. He used to have a partner - a coparent. Now he feels like he's responsible for everyone and her on board. "Take your time. I'll be here when you're ready to talk."

It's exceedingly rational for him, really, no jokes in sight as he lets his head hit the wall and closes his eyes, figuring it will be quite a while until she opens the door.

It is a wait though not nearly as long as it might have been even a week ago. She feels unbelievably silly pitching a fit in here after his mature response. Gamora opens the door, but doesn't come out. She waits for him to join her, trusting that he will even without asking.

It still takes another minute before she can say what's bothering her. She can't make eye contact and really it isn't even helpful. She's talking. Isn't that progress? "There's something wrong with me." She admits like it's the hardest thing in the world to say.

When the door slides open, he cracks one eye then the other, hauling himself to his feet. This is a well-practiced dance by now. At least she did seem to come around quicker than usual. The automatic door shuts behind him and his tired gaze immediately floods with concern anew.

"What is it? Are ya sick?"

Gamora purses her lips, biting down hard for a second. She already feels like an idiot. He's so sincere that she can't bring herself to lie to him. "I think I'm losing my mind." She glances up at Peter lets the vulnerability peek through, practically pleading with her eyes not to take advantage of this temporary weakness.

That takes the wind out of his sails - an echo of how she's feeling laying unexplored in the caverns of his own mind. Peter takes a halting step forward, acutely aware he's back at square one every day, and he holds himself back even further. He was a much different man when he'd met Gamora the first time, and maybe that's the problem. He doesn't think he could ever be that carefree again.

Still, he leans in to ask her, "Is this about the song?" He feels silly for even asking, but that is when she'd run off, so maybe they're on the same wavelength here after all.

Gamora wraps her arms protectively around herself before nodding. She can feel panic build up in her chest, but she pushes past it. She needs someone else to know. "I know how this sounds, but please just..." Listen. She raises a hand than drops it. Her eyes meet his intense and earnest. "I know things that I shouldn't know. Like the song." There's a hysterical edge to her voice. She tries to reign it in even as fear threatens to choke her.

"And I see things when I close my eyes that never happened." She points to the bed behind them. "I see you on that bed. You're going to sing it. I know you will. It doesn't happen. I still know the words even though it never happened." She stops and takes a breath. Gamora can't help thinking he really is going to kick her out this time. She truly does sound insane.

Just her nodding has his eyes widening and he takes another step in without noticing he's doing it. He doesn't understand at first, his expression twisting until she goes on, but then he immediately feels guilty for the hope in his heart. Is this...? Could she be... remembering? Is that even the right term if she never lived them to begin with?

"Wait, no. Wait, I think..." He reaches out to touch at her elbow, still serious but latching onto what she's telling him with both hands. "That Strange guy said something about this. Timelines meetin' up. I... What do you see?"

Peter glances over at the bed, throat going more than a little dry before he forces his gaze back on her. She didn't learn the words behind his back, she learned them from him the same way his Gam did. It's too good to be true, which is why he's looking for every flaw, and what could go wrong before it does. He wished he had done that the first time around.

Gamora looks confused by the mention of Strange. Nebula had given a quick crash course on the self that died while they were together. The truth is she had no idea who she was fighting with once the battle truly began. She selected her opponents purely on recognition alone.

His touch, however small, does a lot to focus her. Gamora allows it without even questioning if she should or not. Her eyes close as she works on focusing on the image rather than actively avoiding it. Unsurprisingly it makes the whole thing less scary. "You were braiding my hair. I could see it in the mirror." She opens her eyes and checks for his reaction.

His fingers itch to delve into her hair at the mention, and he momentarily squeezes her arm in longing before he realizes what he's doing and immediately lets her go. Peter nods in acknowledgment of her story, heart aching even as it beats in triplicate. His gaze is open and sad, but there's something sweet in there for her to grasp, too.

"Here, listen to this." He pulls out his Zune, carefully setting the headphones over her ears as he scrolls through to select a song. Landslide from Stevie Nicks comes on abruptly and Peter leans in to overhear it, softly singing along under his breath. The lyrics call to him now, and he wants to share his melancholy with her. If she remembers the first time they did this, then maybe he'll start to have hope. He remembers it all too clearly, them nearly kissing before Gamora shoved him away and accused him of luring her in with pelvic sorcery. The tiniest noise of mirth escapes his lips close to her throat at the memory.

She meets his gaze as his hand drops. Gamora finds herself for the first time truly pitying his position. She must be like a wish gone wrong; the living embodiment of a dead woman. She's not sure how he bears it.

She thinks she understands his feelings a little better when the headphones are slipped on. Gamora's eyes flutter shut as she listens. It's so deeply personal that she almost wants to take them off and shrink away from the feelings conveyed here so honestly. Gamora pushes herself through it. One of her hand captures his as she continues to listen through. She doesn't quite remember the scene it sets. She sees a sea of stars that look like a painting, she can feel the way the headphones pinched her ears once.

Her skin tickles at the noise. Gamora opens her eyes, gaze wet as she looks at Peter. "It's a beautiful melody." Her sad tone is undercut by how loudly she says it.

The way she grabs onto his hand has him leaning towards her even a little more, and he laughs just like he did then, charmed by her as ever. Peter reaches out to pull the headband back so she can hear him. "Yeah," he says, licking his lips as he takes the headphones back and puts them around his neck, her scent filling his nose and making him feel like he took a leap back in time. "Do you wanna dance?" There's a bemused twinkle in his gaze, anticipating the rejection even as he uses their joined hands to encircle her wrist and tug gently in encouragement.

Her eyes flutter down to his lips when he licks them. They crash back to meet his gaze at the question. She looks like she's searching for an excuse to say no and coming up short. "I don't know how." Gamora finally settles on. It is true as he well knows.

Ready to pull away when she speaks up again, he has to do a doubletake at the content. That wasn't a 'no' even as Drax's stupid speech is running through his head. Gamora was never a dancer, but that's what makes them fit, right? Instead of trying to be her caretaker, he should have been courting her all over again. He realizes his mistake now, tugging a little more insistently and taking a step back to drag her into the one space in the room big enough for them to move around.

He switches the track to something more upbeat and turns the volume all the way up so she can hear it too. With the headphones keeping the sound contained, it's actually perfect. They're much less likely to get interrupted this way.

"It's not hard. Just move how your body wants to move to the music," he instructs, keeping his hand loosely around her wrist even as he shuffles back and forth to the beat, feeling a genuine smile slowly sliding over his lips for the first time in too long.

She doesn't look any more convinced this is a good idea with that explanation. The song is fun even if she loathe to think it. Gamora decides she may as well give this a try. She exhales audibly and threatens, "Don't ever tell anyone about this." She lets it hangs for a second before following his advice. She sways side as she sync up with the beat. It's gradual release of her defense. A small smile escapes her once she catches the rhythm, she glances at Peter as if to confirm she's doing it right.

"Secret's safe with me," he pledges, watching her go with nothing short of unbridled delight. The lyrics are getting to him, and he almost regrets his song choice a moment, but when he catches her echoing smile it's all worth it. When he thinks she's ready, he pulls away from her while keeping a firm grip on her hand so they both snap like rubber bands. Letting some of the effervescence he's been trapping inside out at last, Peter laughs before dropping her hand altogether and boogying down until the end of the song. There really is something so cathartic about dancing, he hopes it's doing her good as well.

But as the track slows down and they start to drift closer again, he feels a familiar tense nervousness stir in his belly. He knows he's staring at her lips again, he just doesn't know how to tear his eyes away. Silence fills the room when it's done, more deafening than any loud music could be, and before he can talk himself out of it his hand comes up to rest against the side of her face, heart pounding so loudly against his ribcage he's sure she can hear it.

"Not bad for bein' green." He realizes how that sounds a second later, turning red and swallowing, all but disappearing inside his own nervous system. "At dancin'. I meant at dancin'."

It's unbelievably freeing. She loses herself in the melody. For a short while Gamora isn't afraid of what is happening to her or what the future holds. It's just them sharing a moment without any expectations. She never wants it to end.

All good things do. She can't help noticing where his eyes have landed. Before Gamora can fully process it, his hand is on her face. This time around she doesn't feel the urge to put him on the floor for it. This feels right in the way few things ever have. She's not sure how to proceed now that she's realized it.

Thankfully Peter's embarrassment gives her something to latch onto. She smiles in amusement. "You're a strange man, Peter Quill." She thinks she likes that.

"So I've been told," he admits, unable to keep the stupid smile off his face. He'd lost count of how many times Gamora had told him that, specifically. The next song starts to come through his earphones belatedly, and his smile curves even a little bit more at the apt choice. It feels like her eyes are holding him hostage and he starts to lean closer without fully realizing what he's doing.

Her heart flutters at that stupid smile. Gamora cannot help feeling completely ridiculous. He just smiled. It's not that unusual.... is it? Come to think of it he seems sad more often than not when she's near.

He leans in closer and she begins to wonder what it would be like if she met him halfway. Just as the thought starts to take shape, Gamora's eyes flutter shut in anticipation and her frame leans towards his slowly.

His hand brushes some hair off her shoulder as she gets closer, breath catching in his throat. This is... it's too fast, isn't it? Some irony is being dealt to him, maybe, because he doesn't think he can do this. Peter slowly pulls back, feeling like his heart's been torn out of his chest anew.

"If you want, I could... braid your hair?" He sounds and probably looks terrified, clicking the player off at the first notes of Brandy. That's the last reminder he needs right now.

Her eyes open in obvious confusion. She thought he wanted this and just for a second she did too. Once Gamora catches that look of terror, she takes a step back. She doesn't know a lot of things these days, but one thing is certain: she doesn't want to inspire that reaction any more.

She's a second away from leaving when he pops the question. Gamora is confused all over again. She isn't against it so after a second's hesitation. "You may?" S-so unsure. This is coming out of nowhere for her.

He nods, a bit of hurt mingling with the fear. The last thing he wanted to do was reject her and now he feels like he should probably explain himself, but that seems even sadder than everything else. Instead, he wordlessly takes her hand and leads her over to the bed, directing her to sit on the edge while he goes to her tiny vanity to grab a few supplies.

"I'm good at this, swear." Toting an elastic and a brush over, he sits behind her and removes his boots so he can cross his legs and scoot close enough to get to work. "...Sorry," he says after he's sectioned out her hair, the familiar action soothing him enough to talk about what just happened. Or more accurately, what didn't happen.

Gamora follows his lead. She doesn't have a single doubt he's good at it. Right now that's more annoying than confusing following his rejection. She sits there patiently all the same until he's ready to talk or finish. Something tells her the first will come before the last. It's annoying to get that right too.

"You don't have to kiss me, Peter." Even Gamora can recognize that she sounds very salty about the whole thing. She takes a breath and tries for some honesty. "I don't understand you. You wanted to kiss me since the moment you laid eyes on me. Why did you stop the one time I considered it?" Maybe that's an answer in itself. It was just a consideration. She's not at the point where she realizes how terrible it must be to be a consideration when facing the love of your life.

He freezes when she says that, hating the edge of hurt in her voice. From her perspective, he knows it can't make much sense, and it's hard not to wish he was the same vapid, selfish fool who tried to kiss her the first time around. Then none of this would touch him, but that would be denying their entire love affair and how much their family has impacted him, something he could never do. Peter reminds himself to keep going, but starts slowly on an intricate fishtail braid so that it will take him a while to complete. Both so he can gather his thoughts and so he can touch her a few moments longer.

"Cause it feels bad, Gamora." It feels like there's a hole in his heart and each day when he sees her the scab gets ripped off all over again. "You know how I feel about you, that's never gonna change. Not never."

He felt like he had to put that out there even as he weaves strands of her hair, watching as the different colors stitch together beautifully. He had missed this, but as always this yearning has an edge. At least it's bearable for the moment.

"We've been through a lot together, you know, before..." With the original Gamora, he means, though he's already been through some crazy things with this version. That's just the Guardians way. "It feels wrong, like... cheating." In more way than one.

It's tempting to be bitter. She could easily argue he loves who she could be. Thanos taught her too well by example exactly where to stick the knife. That wouldn't be true. The longer they travel together, the more certain Gamora is about their feelings towards her. They love every form she takes. That kind of love and acceptance has barely been a shadow of a memory when she met them. Now it's her life. Even Nebula has changed, become more like them.

She is the one lagging behind. It's frustrating. It hurts. She resists the urge to hurt back. "You think you're dishonoring her memory if kiss someone who looks just like her." Gamora states seriously after an extended period of silence. She thinks she understands it now even it it stings. The way he weaves her hair does a little to help. It reminds her of her mother's insistence on the intricate braids she once wore. It's a pleasant reminder even now.

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