aromantically | ( OPEN ) Peter Q

That admission only increases her fondness of him. She gives him her hand without so much as skipping a beat. Gamora is too caught up in the moment to think of the potential problems she'd normally see a mile away.

Suddenly there are too close to one another. Gamora is very aware of the bed behind them and his grip on her arm. Her mouth goes dry as she stares at his lips. On a normal day, she'd feel played. Right now she can't gather the mind to be suspicious. Her eyes stay locked into place as she tries to think of anything to say. "Peter..." It's soft and uncertain. They already talked about this, didn't they? It is hard to think straight when he's this close.

His heart races faster and faster the longer they stand there, and Peter knows he's in trouble when he follows her gaze with his own, watching her stare at his mouth. After all that moral high ground stuff, in the end maybe he really is himself no matter what else happens. "Present," he murmurs, pushing in even closer, his lips trembling as they brush hers. That familiar electric surge fires up under his skin at the contact and then he's powerless to stop this, leaning in to kiss her properly as his hand lets up, gently encircling her wrist and brushing his thumb against the surprisingly soft underside.

Edited (proofreads this days later what's up ) 2019-09-18 12:50 (UTC)

His response almost pulls her out of the moment. She's missing some context to that. The second his lips brush against her, she feels that spark as well. It's all-consuming and addictive at the same time. She returns his kiss eagerly.

Gamora sighs contently against his mouth before moving to deepen it as her veins light up with fire. This feels right in a way that's easy to lose herself in. At least for now the former assassin isn't psyching herself out of it.

The familiar sensation invades his senses and takes him over completely, managing to forget for just one moment that he never lost the woman he loved. He kisses her until his lungs burn for air, his front pressed to hers, but as he slowly pulls away she might feel wetness on her cheek and catch a fresh tear just as it rolls down his cheek.

"Sorry... goddamn—sorry." He wipes at his face haphazardly, gaze bouncing around like he intends to bolt this time.

It's the wetness that truly pulls her out of the moment. Gamora touches the wet spot against her cheek and feels sick. She's done a lot of terrible things in her life and yet what she did to him still hurts. For a second she's too stunned and sickened with herself to do anything more than stare at him with her mouth open. The way his gaze refuses to settle is what spurs her into action. Gamora steps forward, hands tentatively reaching out to take his.

"No, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have let that happen."

He takes her hands without hesitation, eyes wide and scared when they meet hers again. It hurts like he's physically been torn open right here and he's sure it's in his eyes, easy for her to pick out. The last thing he wants is for her to blame herself.

"Not your fault," he protests, leaning in again until his temple taps against hers, almost too hard but he knows he can't hurt her even with his thick head. The moment they're connected again, his shoulders quake with silent sobs and he squeezes her hands like his life depends on it. He's had a good run, he thinks, holding it together, but now the dam's broken and he doesn't know how to put it back.

It wounds her deeply to see that pain. A part of her thinks it would have been better to stay in denial. Even an hour ago this wouldn't have burned so badly. The rest just wants to save him from that. The rub is Gamora has no idea how to ease his hurt. All she can do is let him hold on tight to her hands. The weight of his head settles against hers. She has to shut her eyes to avoid seeing his tears.

Gamora will wait this out. It has to pass, right?

He stays close to her until the tears eventually taper off, though now he's self-conscious of his red, swollen face.

"Sorry... sorry." Peter lets go of her with a deep scowl, eyes cast down like he can't bear to look at her now. He picks up the hem of his t-shirt and wipes his face on it, briefly exposing his belly before reluctantly turning from her and going to retrieve his shoes. "Ready?" Once they have that space between them, it feels safe to make eye contact, though his gaze is red-ringed and sad.

Her uncertainty morphs into anger at how quickly he shoves it all back in the box. Gamora sees someone who is going to break. Even without all these complicated feelings held by another version of herself slipping into her heart? He's still the man who gave her sister shelter and affection. Peter Quill would have her loyalty for life for that alone. She cannot abide by him starting a breakdown to only finish it another day. It isn't right.

"Not until you are." Gamora closes the distance between them, grabbing his arm hard. She's not letting him out of this room until she's positive he isn't just forcing his way through another task for everyone else's sakes. "Why do you keep pushing yourself like this?!" Gamora asks in a fit of frustration. She knows why. He's the only one who can hold it together. The others depend on him for everything and so does she to an extent. It still drives her insane in this moment to realize just how much this is costing Peter. "Just stop! You can't help anyone like this!"

The ire in those red eyes startles him, wondering what he's done to offend her this time. But then she's grabbing at him, the sting barely registering as he belatedly processes her words. Peter opens his mouth to protest, but with every phrase she's hitting him closer to the core and instead of trying to answer he takes one clumsy stumble forward until his forehead collides with her shoulder. It hurts for a second, not that he minds, but as the pain wears off he all but melts into her, his larger frame seemingly frail as he struggles to even stand on his own anymore. A fitting metaphor for the barrel he's staring down now.

"'Cause they need me to be him. That guy I used to be." She's not the only one who's been transmogrified through this ordeal, after all. To his credit, however, he doesn't try again, sinking into her so completely his words come out muffled as a result. Before he met Gamora, he had been a lone wolf, but she's the one who brought responsibility into his orbit. She's also the one who helped him cope with it. Without his partner in this life, he feels like he's drowning.

It is humbling to see him collapse in front of her like this. Gamora does her best not to shrink from the responsibility this puts on her. Peter is falling. Right now it looks like she is the only one who could catch him. She rests one of her hands on the back of his head, brushing through his hair just once before settling there.

"We can't go back." Gamora explains evenly. It's obvious and yet they don't act like they know it, do they? "We have to find a new way, Peter." She wishes she knew what that looked like. Gamora is walking into this new life just as blindly as he is.

Somehow, it cuts him deeper than anything before. He thinks a part of him managed to convince his inner self that they could - go back. That somehow, things could be like they were before. For that reason, it takes several seconds for her second statement to filter through and he finds himself smiling again despite the fear that still feels as though it might crush him at this moment.

"Do you think we can?" People are always strangely resilient so he feels like he needs to be more specific... "Together, I mean."

Gamora doesn't answer right away. She simply strokes the back of his head with her fingers to soothe herself as much as him. It's a loaded question with no simple answers. The former assassin takes a sharp breath as she prepares to really speak on what they have. She has no idea where the courage comes from. Maybe she has grown or this is simply another influence from a long dead woman.

"I care about you. It's confusing to remember a life I didn't live, but I know that's true. I admire the way you look after so many people without ever complaining or resenting them for it. You use the power you do have in service of others. I can trust you in a way I haven't trusted anyone since Thanos killed my people. I'm happy here."

She sounds astonished by the realization. It is obvious though to anyone paying attention. Yes, it can be painful and awkward at times. She's known true joy in simply being a part of this crew. They are her family now. "I don't intend to leave you so yes we can do this together, but only if it's new. I could never be her." Even if eventually she remembers everything. It won't ever be the same. Not leaving is a good a start as any.

The way her fingers rub against his scalp have him leaning his full weight against her without thinking it through, one arm cording around her middle to anchor them together. Peter has to latch onto the obvious thing here before they can move past it, but he is too content with their arrangement to change it now, even for eye contact which is probably needed in a deep conversation like this...

"So you do remember," he acknowledges, brow furrowing as he tries to process that. He supposes it answers that age-old question about if a person is their memories or separate from them. She didn't have those experiences so it must be jarring to recall anything from her former life, but more to the point, Peter isn't sure how to have something new with someone who has the memories of where they've been. "I'm glad you're happy. That's all I've wanted for you since you got here." He'll address the rest after some more head pats, probably.

"Fragments. Pieces of someone else's life." Gamora explains with a soft sigh of frustration. Their lives would be easier if she woke up tomorrow knowing everything her alternate knew. The swordswoman knows life is rarely that simple. It is better to plan on finding a new way ahead than hoping the dead come back.

Knowing this arrangement is natural for them, recalling vaguely how much she enjoyed having Peter laying in her lap while she stroked his hair, won't undo all the hurt they're both feeling. It does make it hard to stop petting Peter. "Is that really all you wanted for me?" She challenges gently. Gamora doesn't doubt he wants her happiness in the slightest. It's hard to trust that's everything.

Edited 2022-12-08 04:37 (UTC)

He hums at how nice this feels even while knowing it probably isn't appropriate in the midst of such a serious discussion, but he's been so starved of touch - really any attention at all from another person - in far too long.

"It must be scary, when you remember." He thinks he would probably run too in her position, but he's slowly forcing himself to stand up straight, his eyes naturally rolling upward to meet hers. "I want you to have a place you feel like you belong. Whether that's here or... not-here."

Her hand trails down to rest on his arm. Gamora can't meet his gaze for long. He's right, of course. She's afraid to recall a life she never lived. She doesn't know what it means for her. The only thing she can count on is that Peter isn't interested in taking advantage. His words echo in her mind. Gamora knows she could walk out this door right now if that was best for her without fear.

"This is the first time I've ever truly belonged to myself. On this ship I am truly free." She admits carefully. Gamora had been so young when she'd been stolen. She doesn't count that as real freedom. Her eyes finally crash into his; wet and vulnerable. "I don't want to lose that. I just don't know what will happen to me now." That is why she's so afraid.

Her words inspire a glimmer of hope to kindle in his chest, slowly gaining warmth as he staves off the urge to smile too wide. Sometimes it feels like she's a wild animal he could spook with any sudden movements... or his usual goofy demeanor.

"You can't lose this, even if you needed to leave for a while... the Milano will always welcome you back. Have I not made that clear?" He's worried he hasn't, truthfully and so the question isn't completely rhetorical. "Sorry if I haven't... it gets blurry for me, what I should say and what you already know."

She shakes her head gently. Gamora struggles to put into words how she knows this. He hasn't directly said it that she can recall. She knows in her bones that he didn't need to. It is the one thing she truly accepted in all this.

"I trust you, Peter Quill. You don't always have to say things for me to know them." Just admitting that makes her feel lighter. "I can only lose this place if I were to let it go willingly." She doesn't want to reach that point.

Those three words light him up and then it's impossible to keep the sharky grin from pushing its way onto his face. Peter knows better than to fight it although what follows her initial statement inspires wanness more than giddiness in him.

"That's right," he exhorts happily, leaning toward her again unconsciously. "But I should, say them. You deserve transparency."

She finds she likes that grin. Gamora matches it with one of her own; an easy and self-pleased thing. The proximity once again offers temptation. At least for now, she's resisting. Her hands come to rest on her hips. "In the interest of transparency, are you really ready this time? I won't allow you to leave until I'm certain you are ready to." That might sound like a threat if not for the playful tone. Besides, it's not a threat if she actually plans on going through with it.

Ready? It echoes in his head, his throat drying up all over again as his gaze slides down to those bright green lips. Then it occurs to him, she's talking about their chores and his eyes squeeze shut as if he could shut out all of his intrusive thoughts with his sight.

Frustrated and feeling betrayed by his own mind, he forces himself to take a stumbling step back from her. "Actually, do you think we could... pick this up tomorrow?" It isn't normal for him to give up, but she did say they should try a different tact, right? He swallows, trying to prepare himself for being alone again. That sounds much worse to him than just forcing himself through the night.

Gamora looks immediately alarmed by the change. She thinks she hit a nerve but, for the life of her, she cannot figure out how. She doesn't ask outright. Her mind races as she tries for something that can't spark something within Peter. "We can. I'll take care of things for tonight." She promises softly. It isn't enough. Something else springs to mind before she can fully process it. "Would you like me to come back once I'm done? We could sit together until you're ready to sleep." Not quite right, but right enough, she thinks. Gamora vaguely recalls the nights they'd sit together before bed.

He knows it must seem like another rejection from her perspective and he sighs audibly, telling himself he's ready for her to leave when she announces as much. But it's her turn to shock him when she offers something so unexpected he has to hold his breath a moment to process the words.

"I..." Deep breath, Pete. His eyes crash into hers wetly and he licks his lips before admitting, "I would really like that. If you can spare the time." One toe traces the floor bashfully as he awaits her final verdict.

He needs this. The thought rattles around Gamora's mind as their eyes meet. She surprises herself by wanting to help without attaching an asterisk to it. It would be easy to say she's indulging him out of pity or gratitude. The warrior quickly comes to the realization this is coming from a place of true concern. Peter being okay is important to her and so she makes time to see it happen; effort.

"I am a free woman, Peter Quill. I make my own time now." She boasts playfully. A hand goes to reach out for his arm. She squeezes firmly. Her expression is soft as she reassures him. "I won't be longer than an hour." She pledges before releasing his arm to go. One of the perks of living with a homicidal maniac is knowing how to quickly and efficiently tend to domestic issues before they turn into major issues. She will breeze through their combined chores like it's nothing.

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