I'm High on Believing.

@ peter quill.

Gently Gamora checked Peter's breathing rate, her palm flush to him in a nearly supportive gesture as she counted, "Mostly." And somewhere in her was the tiniest thorn of guilt for having to do this.

With a small snarl Rocket weaseled his wrist from Rich's grasp, his other reaching to increase speed. There was hardly a fiber of him that agreed with this, with any of this (including the passed out Quill a room back), other than that they were helping out who he was positive to be the only female in the galaxy that would give him the time of day.

"That's what all this stalling is about?" He grumped as he checked to make sure the fuel levels were sufficient for such a speed as he'd managed to slip into the controls, "Backup? We don't need no backup."

@ The God of Mischief.

“Rocket there are six of us on this ship. Nebula has who knows how many on hers. We need back up,” Rich argued. He reached for Rocket’s wrist again but was distracted by an alert over the com. He swore and hit decline. Nova Prime would have to ring back. With that dealt with he grabbed hold of Rocket again only to feel a hand close around his own wrist. Somewhere along the line, Groot had crept into the cockpit and now he was squeezing the shit out of Rich’s arm, causing his circulation to fuck up.

“I am Groot,” growled Groot. Let him go or I’ll dislocate something. Groot hoped the warning was clear enough.

---

Also just because Gamora's close to Quill, he stirred a little bit but still had a while until he actually came around.

@ peter quill.

It was as Groot intervened that Rocket barked a single, almost incredulous, "Ha" at the notion of backup. This wasn't literal war that they were running off to, this was a simple mission of stealth: to get into and out of the situation without being caught. Backup wouldn't be needed for that. All he'd need was silence and intel, meaning that that before long he'd be forced to counsel with Gamora on the interior of the ship-- a conversation he wasn't exactly looking forward to.

"See?" It was a mumble as Rocket turned back around to continue ignoring Rich in favor of procrastinating by means of staring almost a little manically at the status screen.

---

Gamora cringed at Peter's stirring, not sure if she was quite ready for the barrage of whining and thrashing yet but still riddled with guilt and worry over his current state. She reclined back onto whatever, sighing heavily and running a hand through the mess of her hair, and debated the thought until it changed to just how the hell were they supposed to contain a very, terribly angry Quill.

@ The God of Mischief.

"What happens if Nebula corners you?" Rich demanded. To which he was appalled that Groot answered, "Quill." He rounded on poor Groot then, forgetting about Rocket.

"Quill's hardly in a sufficient enough state to be back up if things go to shit in there," the last word came out as a whimper as Groot saw it fit to twist his wrist.

---

Just for the lols, and to speed shit up, Quill woke up. It took a while for everything to come into focus, and then it took even longer for him to figure out where he was. He tried sitting up, but fell back. Something wasn't right. He glanced down at his free arm, and then at the one that was restrained... Okay where the fuck had they gotten these cuffs from? Even he didn't have a pair of those on the Milano.

"That just ain't gunnah happen." Rocket leaned back in his seat then, crossing his legs with a small mini-me grin at Richard's whimper: Groot really knew how to make things go over well.

Quill. Right. How had that gone over then? He'd be the one running out with guns blazing beside them, right? Rocket might not ever admit it, to himself let alone others, but in the long run of things the Terran didn't make a half bad partner in crime. At his best he was agile and somewhat logical, and at his worst he at least made a grand get-away distraction.

---

Gamora made a small distance between herself and him as she saw Quill flutter to life once more. He was calm in the moment, good, that was one thing that worked to her advantage. She assessed the room quickly: there was a table that he couldn't knock over, but the stuff from the top of it would likely go flying, a bench for him to hit his head off of (hopefully not repeatedly), rivets that undoubtedly had the potential to cut him if he hit them the wrong way, and about 10 feet in between them by the time she'd stopped inching away as he came fully to. She didn't speak a word, it was a dare just observing him at this point.

@ The God of Mischief.

The first thing Quill did was give the cuffs an experimental tug. It was a course of action he came to regret as the chair he’d been latched onto decided it would be convenient to topple over onto him. He rolled away, but cried out when it landed on his shoulder. “Motherfucker!” He yelled, his voice reverberating throughout the Milano. It was moments after that that his eyes landed on Gamora and, even given his current state, he was more than capable of putting two and two together to make four.

“Oh fuck you,” he snarled as he pushed the chair off him. It wasn’t easy going but seeing her there and figuring she was the one who cuffed him to it, he was determined to do it. He pushed himself into a sitting position, his chest rising and falling at an alarming rate due to his efforts and his rising temper. “Did Thanos teach you how to do that?”

---

Groot jumped and let go of Rich when he heard Quill shouting in the space behind him. “I am Groot,” he told Rocket. He sounds pissed, should we go watch?

Gamora watched, quiet and wide-eyed as Quill tested his surroundings-- even wincing at the sound of the chair's clatter atop him and rooting silently for him against the struggle that sitting up was proving to be. Still, she offered no help. With what was barely a small gasp her teeth ground into each other as her face scrunched at the bitter taste of hatred that rolled into the air off of the back of his throat. The recent past seemed to have no weight on her shoulders as her chest collapsed into numbness, guilt and shame leaving her while she watched Peter shove his way into a position that didn't crumple him. Fear didn't enter Gamora's mind frame until she noticed the pounding rate of his chest's shattered rise and fall. She kept still and to herself though, leaning forward on her wrists with her legs curled away from him in her own best interest and her head to the side in curiosity, merely blinking at his words with an almost emotionless look on her face.

"The raccoon did." She growled quietly, almost calmly, at the end of Peter's question.

---

"Of course." Rocket's words were almost breathless with an ill-willed anticipation.

His ears piqued at the sound of Peter's shouts and his eyes lit at the mentioning of 'The raccoon'. Giving up on his previous quest to decrease their arrival time he jammed the ship into autopilot and hopped off of the seat with a smile playing at his lips: childishly, he couldn't wait to see Quill crumpled on the floor, whining about the way his skin was being dug into. He made his way up the stairs chuckling quietly to himself and striding into the main area of the ship he gave his best attempt to not beam over the situation in amusement as he watched over it.

@ peter quill.

[12 hours later I realize you haven't been tagged. critical fuck up. ]

@ The God of Mischief.

[]

Peter tugged at the cuffs again but no, they weren’t budging. He tugged again and again and again… But it was just hurting his arm. “Uncuff me!” He yelled, aiming the order at Gamora. “Uncuff me right now!”

When he saw Rocket and Groot emerge from the cockpit, he rounded on them, Gamora’s words that this was Rocket’s fault fresh in his thoughts. He grabbed something – he didn’t pay attention to what – from the table top and hurled it at Rocket’s head. It missed, though only narrowly, hitting the wall behind him with a hard thump.

“Uncuff me right now!” He repeated.

@ peter quill.

The ship kept quiet but for Peter's shouts; every set of eyes carefully observed him with the utmost of attention, even the walls were leaning in to record the events as the tension began to crack through the rivets that held them together. It wasn't until the heavy sound of the thump against the wall, immediately after Rocket's flinch, that the raccoon broke into hard laughter simultaneously destroying the silence and starting a new paragraph for the walls to write. This, this was too good as most of Quill's downfalls were. The dumb look on his pinky face as he thrashed next to the growing snarl on the bridge of Gamora's nose was almost too much. After a few moments he managed to control himself, gasping only once or twice tho regain his breath, and wiped at the tears forming under his eyes.

"Thank you, both of yous, I really needed that." His words were even in pentameter until the end, accentuated with a snort and crumpled with suppressed laughter.

Gamora, on the other hand, leaned back with a huff completely unamused by the the actual five year olds before her. This was ridiculous. It was ridiculous that Peter even needed to be restrained in the first place: he should know better than to run off into the unknown with a half broken body. Though, and she bit her tongue for it, his reasoning was a little more than romantic.

"You're not getting off of this ship, Peter." And she was stern with it.

@ The God of Mischief.

Peter rounded on Gamora again, his face contorted with anger still. "Oh come on is this what this is about?" He demanded. He tugged at the cuffs again, though this time it felt like he was on the verge of dislocating something.

[short because tired ]

@ peter quill.

"You didn't tell him yet?" Rocket interjected the conversation with a slight cringe, his ears folding back as he scrunched his brow. "Did you?"

He looked across the room, taking note of the hilarious amount of confusion that had taken hold of Gamora especially as she still lay slightly melted on the floor, with a stern poker face splattered across his cheekbones. This was great. He slumped his shoulders slightly forward, faking the air of a barer of bad news as he paced a small circumference around the floor and shook his head. Disbelief, that's what he was trying to muster. Disbelief and awkwardness and a subtly cold disconnection. He was positive he'd failed to convey the last, though as he watched Quill fiddle around still with his restraints.

"We're replacing you." He sighed finally, scratching the backs of his ears. "Richard's the new...Star-Lard." He bit back a snicker at his intentional mishap, ready for the reaction it'd coax.

"Rocket. Stop it." Gamora snapped, not really helping the immediate cause other than to chastise the raccoon for his speech.

@ The God of Mischief.

Peter’s response was simple, but none the less brutal and fuelled by rage as he picked a metal flask, presumably it had once housed somebody’s drink. He threw it at Rocket, this time he didn’t miss. It was a decision he immediately regretted when Groot retaliated on the behalf of his furry friend. The dumb tree could throw a half decent punch, Peter had to give him credit for that.

@ peter quill.

"Fuck!" Rocket nearly screeched as the flask smashed into a spot near his eye, flinching immediately as his vision blurred over and the scent of pennies filled his nose.

A few moments of still passed, the base sounds of humming and Rocket's sniffling in the background, before Gamora decided that it would probably be a good idea to play referee. She sprung to her feet in a small leap, acting off of the pivot point of her heels, and grappled Groot's arm from behind to twist him by his thorny wrist into submission (trying to avoid splinters as she went).

"Don't you dare." It was a threat that passed over her tongue, a low growl of fed-up-ness that continued on, "No one is being replaced."

@ The God of Mischief.

With Groot restrained Quill took the opportunity to hurl another object at Rocket. He was pleased to see he hit him again… just not as hard this time.

Groot tried fighting against Gamora. They couldn’t just let Quill get away with bullying them. Especially not Rocket. It was an unfair fight.

@ peter quill.

"Peter Quill!" Gamora boomed in her struggle against the sentient tree at Quill's petulant outburst.

The second hit took Rocket to the floor, despite the softer blow of it. He didn't so much crashland against the grating of the floor as he fell controlled to a seat before curling into himself slightly. The pain was almost nonexistent, he'd been hit harder and more relentlessly before, but the amount of vertigo that swelled in his chest was something he hadn't previously been acclimated to.

To his advantage Groot was large and his grain only ran one way, the opposite resulting in thousands of tiny cactus-spine-like splinters depositing themselves in the upper layers of Gamora's skin. To his disadvantage though, Gamora's bones were practically rubber in her tact. Quickly she managed to flip herself over Groot, her grip maintaining around his wrist, to wedge herself between the two of them. She didn't bother to even glance over her shoulder as she kicked backwards, hoping to hit Quill square in his chest to knock some sense into him.

"I'll kill you!" The threat came almost out of nowhere as Rocket raced across the floor as his stomach regained stability, dodged Gamora's foot as it collided with Quill, and launched himself across Peter's face to tear it open for the second time in a few weeks.

@ The God of Mischief.

“Not if I kill you first!” Peter retorted. He did his best to fend Rocket off one handed, his hand reaching relentlessly, searching for the rodent’s neck. He wasn’t entirely sure what had come over him, but tossing rocket out the airlock, or at least threatening to, seemed like a fantastic idea.

It was then that Groot came to his senses. This couldn’t keep up. Either Quill or Rocket would end up dead if they had it their way, and the other would regret it for the rest of their life. He pulled away from Gamora and seized Rocket around his middle. “I am Groot! Enough!” He yelled.

@ peter quill.

Rocket managed to give two hits to Peter's nose with his fists, jamming his feet into his mouth and ripping backwards with his claws, before he was grabbed by his scruff and ripped from the Terran.

Gamora stood with her shoulders slumped when Groot escaped her, panting and staring down at Rich's seat in the cockpit of the Milano, and wondered how he hadn't just abandoned ship with all of the chaos going on behind him. When she finally did turn around to face the group she was pleased to see Rocket trying to writhe his was out of Groot's grip. At least someone had managed to take hold of the situation.

"Let go of me!" Rocket struggled against Groot's grip vehemently as he hung from his skin, rolling and thrashing every-which-way to try and free himself. "I know where you sleep!" He settled on the outburst towards Quill with a hunk of spit at him, slowing his own trashing as he began to tucker himself out.

@ The God of Mischief.

The spitting made Peter lunge for Rocket again but, unknown to him, Drax had sidled out of wherever he was hiding from and had pulled him into a weird hold, it was like a hug almost, if hugs involved having your ribs completely crushed. "Let go of me!" He yelled, still trying to grab Rocket, but his efforts proved fruitless as Drax looked at Gamora and asked, "should I ditch him in his room?"

[which totally exists ok i forgot until i got caught up on the comic the other day quill has a great fucking room]

@ peter quill.

"Please." Gamora sighed as she turned to descend to double check that Richard wasn't setting up a noose or readying an escape.

She'd check on Peter once more later, after he finally calmed down and probably as the final time before she exited for Sanctuary II. But right now she couldn't be bothered with interpersonal relationships, the mission was of utmost importance as they raced towards Nebula and her insanity. She kept quiet as she took up the co-pilots seat next to Richard, her eyes forward and a flush trying to form across her cheeks, to check out the status of the journey. It had been a while longer than she'd thought, they were nearly 3/4ths of the way there.

"Is backup near or should we slow further?" She completely skipped over mentioning the scene she'd finally left.

Behind the two below Rocket hung limp in Groot's grasp trying to recover from his breakdown. He began to wriggle again though at the thought of Lylla laying tied up and knocked out somewhere on the horizon between the dashboard and the darkness. Slowly the urge to prepare began to grow again within him as the feeling of joyous chaos melted from his back: he'd save her if it was the last thing he ever did.

"You know...." Rocket was calm as he spoke, shimmying his shoulders in an attempt to loosen Groot's grip. "If you wanna learn how to hold a lady I can teach ya, but I ain't a lady and this ain't how you do it."