aromantically | ( OPEN ) Peter Q

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.

Peter wouldn't blame her for it, not like he ever blames her for anything. His fingertips brush her nape and her top vertebra as he works his way down, glad this seems to be calming her as much as him.

"You don't just look like her," he points out, unable to keep back the thick sigh that pushes its way from his throat. "I wanna kiss you when I wanna kiss you, not 'cause I miss her. It's not fair."

Her skin tingles as his fingertips brush over the delicate skin. It doesn't make it any less relaxing even as a heavy conversation is underway. Gamora finds herself respecting him more for his integrity. He is more than the sentimental idiot she thought he was the day they met. He really does love her... Well. A version of her.

"I'm sorry. You're a man of great honor and yet I always treat you like a starry-eyed fool. I misjudged you, Peter Quill."

As always, her honesty makes him laugh. He starts speeding up as he hits a rhythm with her hair, watching the pattern take form and satisfied with it.

"Two things can be true," he points out, but it isn't truly self-deprecating, more of a joke meant to lighten the mood. "Besides... you shouldn't kiss me just 'cause I like you. Do you even like me like that?" Does she even know what that means yet?

Gamora shuts her eyes, suppressing the urge to shrug. It's not like there's any point in covering up the answer. "I don't know. I was made to bring kings to their knees and slay gods. I don't go on dates." She points out bluntly. It's part of what tempted her to try it out. Peter is a safe option. The timeline slipping its way into her head didn't help matters.

Her answer makes him smile, though there's a sadness in his gaze he's glad she can't see.

"You don't even know nobody 'cept us. Hell, you don't even know you yet." He finishes off her braid and ties it, checking it over for himself before pushing it over her shoulder the way he always does so she can inspect it. "It's not like I'm goin' nowhere. There's no rush."

To figure things out, he means. If anything, they could do with more caution in their lives.

Edited 2019-08-27 02:59 (UTC)

The words settle into Gamora. She cannot the truth in them as much as she wants to argue it. She doesn't know who she is outside of Thanos. This is the first time she's been her own woman ever. Gamora doesn't know what to say to it, but knows the cue from another life.

The former assassin goes up to the mirror to inspect her hair. It takes her breath away. For a moment, so brief it actually make the ache that much stronger, she can see her mother looking back at her. She realizes this is probably the closest she's come to even looking remotely like a Zehoberi person since her capture. It really only adds weight to Peter's argument.

She runs her fingers over the braid longingly and offers a stilted nod of approval. "You are good at this." Gamora is silent for a beat before offering seemingly at random: "My mother would braid my hair before." Before Thanos goes unsaid.

He sits up a little taller when she gets up, dropping his hands to his lap and watching her reaction carefully. It's impossible not to grin at the praise, though it softens some at the follow-up. Just like always, if Gamora had ever told him that before, he plays dumb. In the beginning he realized how quickly the 'I know's would slow things down. Pretending she's a totally different person from the woman he loved is hard, but practical in the end.

"I take it that means you like it?" he asks, scratching at the back of his neck sheepishly as he tries to get a more solid answer. "Yeah? I learned how to braid doin' my mom's hair." So: full circle, again. His eyes crease with his smile this time, fully relaxed.

"I do like it." Gamora runs her fingers over it one last time before dropping her hands to her side. She glances back at Peter. The fact that it connects to both their mothers visibly softens her. She smiles gently at him, tilting her head curiously before the question comes. "What was she like?" She's always wondered on some level. The music, she either recalls or has been told, had been a gift from Meredith Quill.

It's deeply bittersweet, but that's nothing new, and he knows Gamora feels the same so he really can't bring himself to be too broken up about it - not like sharing with her is really ever a chore. He pats the bed next to him in suggestion, something about her being across the room makes it weird to bare his soul, but he will whether she listens or not, one leg dangling off the edge now.

"She was real brave... but sweet too," he remembers, voice soft and full of affection. "Gentle, she hated when I fought with the other kids which was all the time." Peter smiles there before looking down at his lap.

"Before she got sick, she just... was so bright, you know? Full of energy and love for life. She could get anybody out of a bad mood, she never let nothing get her down." Until the cancer. He hears Ego's booming voice in his head announcing his 'disappointment' in having to kill her in that way and Peter has to shut his eyes to work through it, tasting bile as the memory plays behind his eyelids.

She takes a seat at his side. Gamora isn't nearly as comfortable with a straight back and feet planted firmly on the ground. He does have her full attention. That intense brown gaze only softens to picture a woman that looks like Peter with those qualities. A flash of a cold marble zooms past her mind's eye. She dismisses it in favor of going back to her vision. Peter's momentary withdrawal causes a little pain in her chest. She finds herself scrambling to distract him without understanding why.

"So you're like her." Gamora points out. It is true. Regardless of how hard she has tried to isolate herself from Peter, it is easy to see he retains those qualities. He can be bright even in his grief. Peter does have a way of keeping them going which is no small feat.

She looks away as she feels compelled to share herself, eyes trained ahead at a wall. "I think I take after my father, my true father. He was fierce and uncompromising. I don't remember much about my mother." She frowns at the confession and feels compelled to explain further. "My people were peaceful. They prayed to our gods and followed obediently. He wasn't like them, but she was."

The comparison shocks him out of his memory, breathing a sharp, quiet breath in reaction. He wants to be like her, wants to think she lives on in him, forever. He drew just as much strength from Gamora though, too, and everyone else on this ship. He bites into his lip as he listens, not wanting to interrupt her in any way.

"You're anythin' but peaceful," he agrees, bemusement pushing his smile wider despite his best efforts.

That prompts a warm, unguarded smile. He is right. She'd never been peaceful a day in her life. That is one thing she knows about herself at least. "It's for the best. The ship probably needs more warriors than worshippers." She sucks in her bottom lip, settling into the knowledge that they seem to be in a better place now than earlier. Gamora feels better about herself as well. They still have work to do. Her outburst earlier seems embarrassing once she remembers that.

"Should we finish cleaning?"

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