I'm High on Believing.

@ peter quill.

"Watch it!" Rocket snapped as he was nearly headbutted into unconsciousness by Groot's shaking head.

Splitting up really was probably their best bet, but then again leaving a young sentient tree of all things to fend for himself in the middle of a city couldn't be a wise decision. This whole thing wasn't a wise decision.

"Fine." He jumped down from Groot and into the box, collecting it's contents before winding his way back up to Groot's shoulder. "Just drop the damn thing and go."

---

"What I want is to know what's been wrong with you for ages now." She countered his offer as she took his hand into hers, biting the inside of her lip in anticipation and trying to find eye contact.

Was this too much? Gamora couldn't tell across the contrast of whatever it was coursing through her bloodstream. She had a sudden mothering instinct overcome her though: for all the nights she was left near tears and alone wondering what would happen next through the black abyss in her life she wanted to make it up, to just blather on sweetly to Peter about how nothing was going to hurt him, how it would all work out for the better. But wait, weren't his lips perfect in that slight pout? It was as she rolled her eyes at herself that Gamora felt her stomach finally begin to lurch to match her distorted reality.

@ The God of Mischief.

Groot didn’t need telling twice. Especially not when Rocket snapped at him like that. He stopped walking, threw the box over his shoulder (narrowly avoiding missing Rocket as he did so) and continued his getaway. He didn’t dare look over his shoulder to see if anyone was following as he cut across the street and slipped down a nearby alleyway.

“I am Groot?” How much money had they managed to get away with?

---

Peter felt his stomach do a little dance when Gamora grabbed his hand. He caught her eye – still only for a couple of seconds - and nodded. Of course she did. He stared down at the table top and sighed. “Right. Course you do.” He fell silent again, trying to think of how to tell her.

At first he tried to tell her it was nothing again, but half way through saying that he stopped himself. No, it wasn’t nothing. There was something bugging him. There was something he needed to find out, and he wasn’t going to find it out by lying and telling her it was nothing. Gamora wasn’t Rocket, he was confident she wouldn’t take the piss out of him.

He hoped she wouldn’t take the piss out of him.

“Look, I contacted Nova with a request for them to send me all the data they had regarding that genetic anomaly they found because… I really want… No, I need, to find out what my father is because not knowing is really starting so get to me. Now can we please just drop this?”

It sounded like they'd managed a clean get away, at least no one had managed to follow them this far yet and if they were to catch up a fair fight could be managed here. Rocket sighed to himself, no more of this: no more petty shit just to try and teach a tree a lesson. Groot would just have to be taught in other ways, this was ridiculously disappointing.

"Eh." Rocket mumbled as he climbed back down to the ground. "Enough for dinner and a room if we don't want to sleep in Quill's prison."

He began to saunter off into the city again then, avoiding the way they'd originally come from, in search of a restaurant or bar that still had their kitchen open.

---

"....That's it?" Gamora opened her mouth to chastise him about his attitude, about how she could have been old this weeks ago to avoid the minor hell he'd caused the crew, but she stopped herself. "Why would you...Don't worry about it."

She gave Peter's hand a slight squeeze and tried to smile. Ultimately though Gamora let him go and put her head down, pushing the bottles out of the way, and tried to fake tiredness instead of the illness that had amnaged to envelope her throat. She didn't give whoever the fun they'd been hoping for, she sure as hell wasn't going to give them the satisfaction of seeing her sick on the floor.

"We'll find him, we'll figure it out." She rambled into the table top dazedly.

@ The God of Mischief.

“I am Groot,” Groot told Rocket firmly as he began to follow him. He was oblivious to his friend’s sense of disappointment. He thought that for a first time since – well since before he’d let himself been blown to bits – that hadn’t been a bad attempt. It had been a good warm up.

---

Peter was embarrassed now it was all out. But hell, at least it was out. He watched as Gamora laid herself down on the table and smirked to himself. Was she really that drunk? He glanced around the room, at the pretty waitress he’d have very much liked to bang, at the bartender steaming glasses until they shone, and at the few patrons he and Gamora were sharing bar with. He placed his head on the table, trying to angle it so he could get a look at her face but he wasn’t having much luck with that. “You’re fucked aren’t you?” he teased before adding: “light weight.”

He then grew serious, trying hard to will himself to sober up so he could do the right thing and play the part of the responsible friend, as he asked. “Do you want some water or anything?”

Rocket would be lying though if he didn't say he was somewhat proud of Groot. Sure, it wasn't a smooth caper with a big payoff, but more than likely it never would be. They'd managed to avoid a huge scene and they scored enough to eat: in all honesty he was surprised that Groot wasn't interested in anything more than the music being played. It was a small break through, but it had promise.

"We need to find something big, Groot." It was more of a rhetorical statement than it was an attempt at conversation. "I can't go back to that ship without a plan: I'll go nuts."

---

There was a small snarl as she popped herself up from the table, sending her world into another convoluted spin. "I'm fine."

With the moment of clarity her new found anger brought she got up and stalked towards the exit. She wasn't drunk, she couldn't have been drunk after what was barely two. But more or less she was in denial, spinning was nowhere near any of the symptoms of anything she'd ever been slipped before and more-over anyone looking to liven up the scene would probably just throw a punch or two. She wasn't about to let go of her excuse, though. Instead, finally in the privacy of the city outside of the smokey bar scene, she let go of her stomach into the chill of the evening's air.

Mutherphucker.
@ peter quill.

@ The God of Mischief.

“I am Groot,” came the usual reply. Groot wasn’t going to argue with Rocket, but really he felt like his work was being under appreciated. He motioned to a nearby fast food joint. “Eat here?” He asked, struggling a little on the second word.

---

Peter stood up and made his way after her. He tossed a handful of coins on the bar as he passed. He was pretty sure it covered their tab. If it didn’t the bartender would just have to deal with it and be thankful neither of them had a) thrown up or b) started a fight while they were in there.

“Gamora!” Peter called as he ducked out of the bar, he spied her and half ran over to her. He placed a hand on her shoulder. “I didn’t mean to upset you okay?”

@ peter quill.

Rocket shrugged, "Why the hell not?"

It was the usual set up of a fast food place: children squealing, elderly hunched over trays, and the smell of grease heavy in the air. He joined the line without much of a problem, doing his best to ignore the stares he felt grinding into his back. Sure, it was a city and absolutely it was a common stop for a lot of people, but he'd learned quickly that a being with twenty arms and a habit for secreting mucus would be better accepted than him and Groot in most public places. Fur and leaves, he suppose, were never convenient to clean.

---

Gamora was still slightly hunched over herself when she felt Peter's hand on her shoulder. Shit. With a defeated sigh she turned to face him, hoping that he wouldn't notice the tears that were welling in her eyes (they weren't genuine, were they?), and gave a stout nod: of course he didn't mean to. Friendships were still something she didn't quite understand, especially the one she considered herself to have with Peter.

If she was honest with herself, which drunk was probably the best time to be, she wasn't sure how to feel about Peter. Friend, lover, foe, annoying ass who she kept in her life for humour? For ages she simply felt what she believed was expected of her but now standing here with him she was stuck in her own head. It almost sent her reeling over again.

"Can," She blinked a few times, trying to find her words. "Can we please just find somewhere to lay down?"

@ The God of Mischief.

Groot stood beside Rocket in the queue. He was aware people were staring at him but he ignored it. After all, that’s how people usually reacted to him. He glanced at Rocket and shifted a little closer to him, what little intuition he did have was telling him that Rocket wasn’t as good at ignoring them as he was.

“I am Groot,” he said firmly, assuring Rocket that if anybody so much as said anything to either of them that he’d jam one of his branches so far up their ass that it’d come out of one of their ears. It was a grim idea, one that Groot hoped he wouldn’t have to go through with, but he knew Rocket would appreciate the thought behind it.

---

Peter nodded. Whatever she needed. “Come on,” he said softly. He placed one of his hands on her waist to steady her. He was still a little unsteady himself, but being out in the air – even if it wasn’t what he’d call fresh – was helping him shed the sense of drunken stupor that he’d sunk into when he’d told Gamora about the file. The world was still a little fuzzy around the edges, but he was sure he’d be able to manage as he steered her down the street.

“If I’m remembering right there’s a motel somewhere around here…” he muttered, more to himself than to her.

@ peter quill.

"What? You really think a bunch of meaty sacks really bug me?" Rocket said in place of "Thank you" as he meandered the few steps forward in line.

The other three orders in front of them were quickly taken care of and then, following their lead, Rocket managed to have their order taken despite the cashier not noticing him for the first thirty seconds or so. After paying he took their food and wondered over to a window seat that looked out over the dull city. Surly they'd be able to find work in the morning in a place like this, it'd be only due to laziness if they didn't.

---

A sound somewhere between a groan and a sigh escaped her lips as she leaned into Peter with her arm around his shoulders for support, calling it quits for the night. At least for the moment she was done denying his help: if she could trust any of the four it was Peter, and if he came on to her surly she was still sober enough to kick his ass. Right? She was unsure but his touch was soothing to her stomach as they trampled down the road. Tripping over herself she fell backwards into him with a quiet laugh as the world around her kept spinning in a strange semi-neon glow due to the horizon's twilight.

"You know what?" She said on the downside of a giggle as she regained the gist of her balance by digging her nails into the front side of Peter's shoulder, "I should...I'm sorry I don't trust you more often."

@ The God of Mischief.

Groot slid into the seat opposite Rocket and folded his arms across his chest. So much for a thank you. He narrowed his eyes at Rocket, but didn’t say anything. When he wanted to be, Groot could be quite passive aggressive, but he soon grew bored of that. He was hungry and there was a packet of fries just in front of him. He reached over and scooped a handful up. As he slowly chewed his way through them he started to think, not about work or where he and Rocket were going to pass the night, but about where Drax and Gamora and Quill were and if maybe, for a change, he should have tagged along with one of them for the evening.

---

Peter didn’t quite know how to respond to that. Was it a compliment? Probably, but somehow it seemed like an insult. Hadn’t she known Peter long enough, and didn’t she know him well enough by now, to trust him all the time? It had been months since Xandar, and how much of that time had been spent in the Milano bouncing from place to place while they argued about what, as the so called Guardians of the Galaxy, they should do next. He wasn’t going to admit it, but he was a little hurt, he just hoped that none of this was showing up on his face.

He steered her around a corner, still remaining silent, and was relieved to see a sign for a hotel. He sped up, practically dragging Gamora with him and let himself into the reception area. The place was scummy, he could tell that by the nicotine stains on the ceiling and the smell of damp that the far too strong vanilla air freshener hadn’t quite managed to conceal, but he didn’t care, a bed was a bed right? With one arm around Gamora he stumbled over to the concierge desk where he was greeted by a surly faced, acne ridden girl who looked like she was half Kree.

“Hey uh can I get two rooms?” he asked.

The girl shook her head. “Only got one left.”

Peter sighed. “Twin?” he asked hopefully. He didn’t think Gamora would appreciate having to share a bed with him.

The girl shook her head again. “Double. All doubles here. You want it?”

Peter nodded, and, with that transferred the appropriate amount of credits into the hotel’s account in exchange for a room key. He then took Gamora over to the lift and up to their floor. The room wasn’t hard to find, thankfully, so he unlocked the door and deposited her on the bed. He figured he’d have a choice of the bath tub, floor, or armchair for himself and opted for the armchair. It wasn’t exactly comfortable, but for one night it would have to do.

@ peter quill.

The food was the usual lack-luster fair that Rocket'd somehow learned to love. He'd never quite gotten used to the atmosphere of these places, being social wasn't on the top of his to-do list, but it was at least a semi-source of comfort in some sickened way.

Going over different plans of action in his head he decided that he should ask his adolescent what to do next, that giving Groot a bigger choice in matters might help his development along. Already there was an noticeable increase in Groot's vocabulary, that was a sign he was doing things right, right? With a simple shrug Rocket slid back in his seat a little, creating a large enough distance from the table and himself that he had to pause in eating, and looked up at Groot, his arms crossed.

"What's next?" Rocket tried his best to be open sounding to Groot, but in reality control was something he enjoyed having.

---

It was nowhere near luxury but it still sure as hell beat the bunk space of the Milano right now.

"No, Peter." Gamora sighed, one hand on her temple and another just barely propping her up, as she saw Quill make for the chair that sat lopsided in the corner. "I've inconvenienced you enough tonight."

In an attempt to keep the room from doing cartwheels she slowly reclined the rest of the way and cuddled into a pillow that she hoped like hell was at least as clean as Rocket's back on the Milano. As a sort of afterthought to follow up on her words, almost forgetting that she'd even spoken, she kept to the edge of the bed and patted the vastness of mattress space before her. It was the least she could do and just maybe it would help get the DNA conjecture off of his mind. Maybe it would make her quit worrying about advances. At that she closed her eyes in an attempt not to fall asleep but rather to quell the fever she could still feel in her joints from whatever the hell it was that they'd been drinking.

@ The God of Mischief.

Groot shrugged and jammed more fries into his mouth. How the hell was he went to know? Rocket was the one in charge wasn’t he?

“I am Groot,” he said contemplatively, not caring about the fact that his mouth was full of half chewed potato.

[I promise I’ll do longer Groot replies when we figure their plot out ]

---

Peter reached down and tugged his boots off. He’d hit the point where he felt as though his feet were suffocating. Taking them off was a relief. Drawing his knees up towards his chest in an attempt to somehow get comfortable, he shook his head at Gamora.

“I’m good here,” he said. He was lying. The chair was uncomfortable as fuck and he could feel a spring sticking through the fabric, poking him in the small of his back. There was no way he was going to be able to sleep on this thing.

“You get to sleep. I uh I need to do some thinking.”

@ peter quill.

"It'll be good for you." Rocket did his best to ignore the sight of Groot's mouth as he sat up again to grab his cup: table manners might be another thing on the list to try and teach him.

There was, as he knew as he played with the straw, a high chance that they'd land themselves in hot water this way but if anything was going to be good for the development of a new brain it surly had to be this kind of thing. Even if he sorta hated it. There had been a small voice in the back of his head screaming at him ever since Groot sprouted eyes again to not do the right thing, to allow Groot to grow back into the compliant being he had once been as to have no real questioning to his own plots. Still, he managed to shut it up.

((it's cool, same here. ))

---

Motivation had always been something that Quill had lacked. So instead of playing a cat and mouse game with a series of semi-brazen banters back and forth Gamora forced herself to ignore the feeling in the back of her throat as she rolled off of the bed and into some strange raptor-like stance that came with the disequilibrium in her ears. Recovering almost immediately and avoiding the obstacles that littered the floor she wandered over to where Peter sat in the chair and came up behind him with as much ease as she could possibly manage.

"Do me a favour, you know damn well that I can't sleep without that dumb stuffie I keep in my bed." The words rolled off the tip of her tongue sharp and whispered while she played with the tattered hemline of the chair's back.

What had gotten into her? Alcohol, right. Right? Any excuse to herself would work at this point: denial was a warm sanctuary to her. Dragging her hand choppily around the chair's rough shoulders she circled him again, narrowly avoiding a fall, to come around his front and grab his hand off of his chest. She tugged on Peter childlike with a look somewhere between a pout and a smirk on her lips, this just had to be a sicker one of his fantasies at some point.

@ The God of Mischief.

Groot ignored Rocket and jammed more fries into his mouth. He was then about to reach for his drink – water of course, he wasn’t a fan of many other beverages – when he heard a small laugh behind his head. Slowly he turned to look at the booth behind him and found a child leaning over the seat, eyeing him and Rocket with wide eyed curiosity.

“Tree!” Yelled the child. “Fluffy!”

---

Peter just stared at Gamora. Truth be told, he was a little dumbstruck. What the heck, just what in hell, had gotten into her tonight? Other than well… alcohol. He opened his mouth to respond as she tugged at his hand but nothing came out. He was just thankful she wasn’t tugging a different appendage altogether. He opened his mouth again and said, albeit weakly, “you’re drunk. Go to bed, Gamora.” Though he had a feeling she wasn’t going to listen, and part of him, the sleazy part of him that had wanted to sneak off with the pretty waitress from the bar earlier that evening, hoped that she wouldn’t. That part of him was hoping this would end in something that they’d both no doubt regret, but that he knew he’d enjoy a heck of a lot.

“Bed. Okay. I’m good right here.” He pulled his hand away from her.

@ peter quill.

"Great..." Rocket whispered to himself as Groot gave the squealing child his attention.

It wasn't that he disliked loud noises or messes or crazy little bastards that just never calmed down, its that he disliked children. Especially children that called him "Fluffy" of all things. She was lucky she wasn't growled at.

"Groot, over here." Rocket snapped his fingers as he used a paw to quell the bristling of his fur around his shoulder.

---

Gamora fell into him as he tugged his hand away with a small gasp, still too shaky on her feet to counter the force, and into his lap-- her face missing a headbutt with Peter's by mere inches. Admittedly being close enough to him that the stubble of his chin nearly kissed her cheek was just a bit too close for comfort, but that wasn't really what she was asking for. All Gamora wanted was some she could trust to hold her through a drunken stupor, maybe even less, and as she picked herself up off of what was mostly Peter it suddenly became important to her. She'd admitted that she needed trust him, so didn't this make a good first step?

"It's just a favour." Gamora nearly growled through her sweet tone, a little upset about Peter's stubbornness: if she were any other woman he wouldn't so much as second guess sharing a bed space.

With her step back she pushed off of Quill's shoulder, grabbing him firmly by the joint of his arm, and pulled him forward with her in a poorly thought out attempt to get him up. Instead of moving smoothly back she tripped over Peter's boots and fell for the umpteenth time.

@ The God of Mischief.

Groot ignored Rocket. He smiled at the child and informed her, “I am Groot.”

Groot had never really had anything against children, unlike Rocket. He found them amusing in an endearing sort of way and none of them had ever done anything to wrong him exactly.

The child simply yelled, “Tree!” in response.

---

When Gamora went clattering to the floor, Peter slowly pushed himself up in spite of his far too tired joints screaming for him not to. He moved behind her, and placed his arms under hers so he could pull her up. “C’mon,” he muttered. He dragged her back over to the bed and sat her down on it, and decided to sit beside her if it meant she’d stay put and not risk hurting herself anymore.

“Go to sleep okay? You’ll feel better in the morning,” he told her, he hoped he was right, he imagined hung over Gamora wouldn’t be too pleasant to deal with. He scratched absentmindedly at the back of his head. “I’ll sit here okay?”

@ peter quill.
Rocket cringed at the child's pitchy yell. The last thing he needed (or wanted for that matter) was two half-taught things to watch over (not that he minded Groot's company). Children were like hairless dogs, and he despised dogs. The only silver lining that he could see was the gleam he though he saw in the cornor of Groot's eye. A pet might do him good, but not a child. Anything but a child.

"Would you stop encouraging that thing?" Rocket asked as gently as he could bear, not wanting to upset a somewhat entranced Groot, and set his cup down.

---

At this point she was starting to get annoyed again although she was certainly thankful to be horizontal once more. The one time she actually decided to trust Peter on an intimate level and he shrugged her off like some childish nuisance. It was damn near insulting. Instead of bugging him anymore she thrust her hands under the pillow she'd come to rest on and positioned herself with a quiet huff.

"Why are you being so difficult?" The words were muttered almost directly into the pillow below her. "The one time I tell you it's alright and you fight me on it."

Gamora rolled over then, biting her tongue in an attempt to let anything more slip with her back to Quill's silhouette that sat on the tattered end of the bed.

@ The God of Mischief.

Again, Groot ignored Rocket as he balled his hand into a fist and made a flower sprout between his knuckles. The child, who was as enchanted with Groot as he was with her, let out another shrill giggle and then said: “lost.”

“I am Groot,” Groot replied, a little unhelpfully.

---

Peter sighed. He didn’t want Gamora to be annoyed with him, so he shrugged his jacket off, unclipped his holsters, dropped them on the floor and crawled onto the bed beside her. “There,” he mumbled, “you win.”

Without really thinking about he was doing, or indeed without really knowing he was doing it, he began to trace random patterns onto her back with his finger. “Sorry I keep being a shit,” he said after a little while. Because he was and there was no excuse for it.

@ peter quill.

"It'll find it's own way, Groot." Rocket excused himself from the table, taking a tray of garbage with him.

He decided to give Groot a few moments more though with his new....friend.... before so tragically ripping them apart and dumped the tray before demanding that they leave. It was disconcerting, the thought of a child, and it set his fur on edge. There wasn't any good that could come from a child-- they weren't pets. Worried that Groot would take to the kid more than necessary Rocket hurried back as soon as he deposited the tray into the proper bin.

"Let's get outta here, we've got places to be." Rocket crossed his arms and looked up at Groot, fully prepared to drag him out by his ankles if it meant leaving the kid behind.

---

The tiniest of smiles gleamed through on Gamora's lips as soon as she heard Peter's jacket slough on the floor behind her. Instead of eagerly rolling over she kept still and tried to keep a disgruntled look on her face should Peter try to peek over: she didn't want to let him win her over so easily. Gradually Gamora relaxed into his touch, melting the purse of her lips, and sighed heavily. It was rare for her to be touched outside of combat or confrontation, with every trace of his fingers she felt sparks of electricity come to life less in romance and more in appreciation. It most likely forever be reassuring to meet someone who wasn't going to try and strangle her let alone someone she could trust to turn her back on.

"You're right to worry that I might kill you come sunrise." She shrugged in a delayed reply to him, taking the time to enjoy his silence.

Quietly she savored the soft sound of Peter's breathing against the mattress combined with the occasional gust of wind along the paint chipped windowpane. It was the smaller things like this, the roughness of the sheets, what was the smoke laden air of the bar, the dim light cast off of moons that she'd come to love the most in life, she could hardly allow her guard to fall low enough to enjoy much else. It was still a harder concept to grasp that she didn't have to sleep with at the very least a blade of some sort tethered to her hip every night.

But of course the metal was hard in it's sheath below her thigh now, bold in contrast to the gentle touches on her back.