aromantically | ( OPEN ) Peter Q

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.

He feels a twinge of guilt that she's going to do their work alone, but Peter knows he'd be completely useless at this point anyway. Peter was serious about putting it off until tomorrow, but it's impossible to know what another day might bring aboard this ship. She's probably right to get a jump on it.

"In your own time, free woman," he tosses back, his hand coming up just as hers is vacating so that his palm drags across her wrist briefly. "Seriously, no rush."

Peter already knows there's no way he'll be able to sleep tonight regardless, and he gives her a lame little wave as she finally retreats from the room. Not wanting to watch her go, he turns around before the door closes behind her. He fills his hour with going through the motions to get ready for bed though he doesn't truly feel present for much of it. The shower is downright torture as his mind tortures him by replaying that kiss over and over until he can't take it anymore and tears himself out of the water. He somehow dries off enough to put on his sweats and drudge through the rest of his ablutions before making his way to bed. He listens to music on the zune that doesn't remind him of anything and pulls out a book to read, needing something more to dig into lest he get stuck in a feedback loop again.

There she'll find him when she returns, in the middle of the bed reading a classic although not exactly what most might consider a light bedtime story. He's so engrossed in the (very sad) story, he doesn't even look up when she comes in, the music drowning out her already quiet footsteps.

Even that tiny brush sparks something within Gamora. She hesitates a step before returning to the task at hand. It goes faster than even she predicted. As if sensing a change in the time-displaced version of his mother, Groot sticks to her side under the guise of helping. Gamora can't say she minds given how concerned she is for Peter.

She lets the young adult talk her ear off about an adventure with Thor and Rocket. She even reassures him that if they were to split up in the future, of course, she would accept his offer to work with him first. They part on good terms for the night. Gamora can't help smiling at how happy he seemed just to have her attention all for himself for a while. She uses the extra time to prepare for bed herself.

Gamora returns to his quarters clearly dressed for bed in a soft, loose tank top and pants. Her many rings are missing. The only metal on her comes from the various hidden knives on her person at this point in the night. Her braid is a little frizzy from the water in the shower.

She catches his distraction and almost thinks to turn back. He seemed so happy earlier at the thought of her return. Gamora decides to gently tap his shoulder to get his attention. "Peter?"

Her scent hits him almost violently milliseconds before her touch registers, and he jumps despite his best efforts. Laughing nervously at himself, he takes his headphones off, just barely having the presence of mind to mark his place before setting the book aside. Emotions cycle through his gaze again as he takes in her casual appearance, blowing out a breath through his nose as he composes himself.

"Hey, you're here," he announces, a bit of self-deprecation leaking into his tone. It isn't that he expected her to blow him off, although maybe a part of him isn't prepared to see her this way. Which seems so strange to think after longing for her to come back with all his being. He scoots over, patting the bed next to him. "Come, sit."

He tracks her movements out of habit more than anything, observing that she left her braid in even after a shower and it causes a warm weight to settle in his chest.

"Where else would I be?" Gamora questions as she takes the seat offered to her. She feels bad for scaring him. A part of her wonders if maybe she should have left. The warrior hopes by now he knows she keeps her word. She said she would be here and so here she sits.

It is surreal and somewhat familiar to sit in a place that smells so strongly of Peter. She wonders suddenly if this used to be their bed before dismissing the thought outright. That's not a question she needs to be answered. "What were you reading?" Not much better, but at least distracts her from any silly thoughts that may arise.

He feels cowed by her question, especially since he does know she always keeps her word. Peter acknowledges her with a sheepish shrug before leaning back over to retrieve the book and deposit it in her lap.

"It's an old book about the end of the world or something." It seemed apropos at the time, but maybe it's a little sad in retrospect. His gauge has broken when it comes to the outright depressing anyway. "It was written a long time before people on Earth knew all this was out here. Actually, most of them probably still don't know." At least, not the scope and scale of it. Even post-snap, the media keeps people pretty insulated from the truth.

Gamora doesn't bother hiding her confusion about the choice of book and Terra's status. She's very aware of the fact Terra had once been cut off from the rest of the galaxy. At this point, they'd been invaded by beings from space multiple times. One of their heroes is from Asgard. How can they still remain so removed?

"There's so much out in the galaxy. It is a shame they don't get to see it the way you do." Gamora points out softly. "My people were the same. We didn't know anything could be out there until the day Thanos invaded my planet." And now they're too dead to know what she knows.

"I didn't use to think it was a shame," he admits, the shadow of a smile tracing his features as he turns over on his side to face her, propping himself up with one elbow. "You know, when I was a kid, everyone talked about aliens all the time. Some people were excited about it, others scared. Obviously, I've always been fascinated with what's out here... but it was overwhelming when I first saw it all. Was it like that for you too? We do have kinda similar villain origin stories."

Gamora draws up a knee, head turning towards Peter to offer her undivided attention. She is openly fascinated by his stories of life on Earth once again. There is a soft scoff at his choice of similar villain origin stories. Her attention doesn't waiver. Gamora gives it some thought. The past is a painful place for the former assassin. She thinks this is a safe enough thread to tug on.

"Completely. I'd never seen anyone who didn't look like me before. The ships and weapons were unlike anything I'd ever seen before too. Mostly, I was angry at it." She smiles wistfully. It's a charming story of youth to her even if it will likely sound horrifying to anyone else. "These strange beings and their machines only brought death and suffering to everyone around them. It wasn't until I got older I started to see there was beauty in the galaxy. Not for long once I came around with Thanos' forces, but it did exist."

She purses her lips in thought before deciding to share some of it. "He never harmed the plants or the trees. One of his retirement plans was to farm so he must have been getting a headstart." Gamora admits with a dry laugh. She doesn't elaborate on who. Speaking about Thanos directly isn't something she is ready to do just yet.

"I grew to love their beauty. There are so many kinds throughout the galaxy. I used to daydream about keeping the ones that generate light, but they would have died." She shrugs, looking away now. Gamora is self-conscious suddenly about admitting that the hardened warrior would dream of such soft things.

"I know what you mean, the Ravagers were... a lot." Peter goes quiet to listen raptly to her, knowing it isn't easy for her to speak of Thanos. He isn't fond of mentioning him either himself so he can hardly blame her. He does roll his eyes at the mention of him gardening, and he's grateful for her admission because it keeps the rage boiling just under the surface at bay. "...Why would they die? Should we get some?"

Gamora shakes her head, effectively convincing herself to let the fantasy go. It's back to reality. "He kept the ships dark. Anything organic would struggle to survive-" She catches herself. Gamora is still making that mental jump she had to back in the previous timeline. It's almost as if she forgets she's free. Anything is possible now.

Gamora smiles softly as it finally sinks in she can do it. There's a rare innocence in her gaze as she regards Peter. "We shouldn't go now. It's late. But, tomorrow..." She allows herself just for a moment to get excited about something private and hers. "It'd be nice to care for something."

Peter finds himself smiling brightly over at her as she realizes she can do whatever she wants now. It's ridiculously adorable to him she thought he might spring up out of bed to get her trees in the middle of the night. He's tempted to just for that reason alone, but he nods in agreement to tomorrow.

"They sound beautiful. Plus Groot could use a friend." A dumb joke that isn't completely a joke. His hand drops to the sheet as he becomes visibly drowsy, like the exhaustion finally crashing into him after hours or even days of holding it together for everyone else. His fingers brush her arm as his eyes slowly lid, caught in a losing battle of fighting back sleep. He is stubborn enough to fight longer though, and he will if only to hear her voice a few moments longer.

"He does seem lonely at times," Gamora admits. The way her eyes linger over Peter makes it clear she doesn't think he's the only one. Even that brief touch sends sparks across her nervous system. What does that make her? Gamora rather focuses on Peter than dig into that particular mess.

"You should get some rest. I'll stay until you fall asleep."

"It's hard to lose your mom in your formative years..." He doesn't mean to say it, but he also doesn't want to take it back. Peter shuts his eyes though he's nowhere near as drifty as he was even a second ago, taking Gamora's offer at face value. It's easy to trust her this way even if it shouldn't necessarily be. Peter does think they're past the point where she'd stab him for upsetting her. Probably. "Not like I've been much of a dad to him lately either." He's mostly in survival mode, which he knows hurts his little family even if they'd never admit it to his face.

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