I'm High on Believing.

[Here are two terribly short replies I’m in plain, that’s my excuse haha.]

Groot looked horrified. Why did they have to leave his new friend? He shook his head at Rocket. “No,” he told him.

---

Peter sighed and carried on tracing patterns into Gamora’s back, the lines now becoming sporadic and inconsistent. The things that were bothering were beginning to creep back into his thoughts again. Jesus, this was hopeless. “You asleep yet?” he mumbled.

@ peter quill.

I FORGOT TO TAG MY HORRIFYINGLY SHORT REPLIES

I promise my next ones will be more than two lines long I was just shattered from work but wanted to reply because we're watching movies with Chris Pratt in

@ peter quill.
[[I just fell in love with your dorky ass, nice tag job. ]]

"Do you have any idea how late it is?" Rocket tried to reason before the little voice in the back of his head couldn't hold him back anymore.

This was beginning to get ridiculous. They weren't going to stay around simply because of someone's unleashed kid. At the very least, he wasn't going to stick around with what may have well had been two kids: Groot would be easy enough to find come morning.

"Let's go." He motioned to he door with the entirety of his being, hoping that Groot would finally give in and let the child alone.

---

"Barely." Gamora murmured thickly as she rolled over, catching the briefest glimmers of pain in Peter's eyes.

What was it that was bothering him again?--Gamora'd nearly forgotten now that the room had managed to stabilize itself and her stomach wasn't rolling rampant. With heavy eyelids she repositioned herself slightly closer to Peter, her nose close enough to his shoulder and her legs drawn into herself so that her knees brushed against his thighs. It was almost magical in it's own back alley way as neon lights from the cityscape filtered in through the rusty dust of the room. Lazily she found Peter's hand with hers, almost on accident, and began to trace eights into the mound of his thumb while fighting off sleep. His dad, right, he was upset over his father.

"Talk to me." Gamora managed a weak smile, more of an upturn on the corners of her lips really, as she fluttered her eyes open in a somewhat desperate attempt to fight off the sleep that plagued her eyes.

@ The God of Mischief.

[SHUT UP I'D BEEN DRINKING]

“I am Groot,” came Groot’s firm reply. He shook his head to reiterate his meaning. No, no they couldn’t leave, not without helping the small human. It wouldn’t be right.

He looked down and smiled at the child. They should do the decent thing, not keep the kid, but at least take her to people who could help – the police, for example.

---

Peter shook his head. He’d done enough talking about it tonight – even if enough basically meant barely at all. The conversation he’d had with Gamora back at the bar had barely scratched the surface of the things that were bothering him: of how he wanted to know what he was, if there would be any ramifications, why his father had never reached out to him, as to whether or not his father was aware he existed, and, perhaps most important of all, how the fuck had his mother met an ancient alien from a race that not even the Nova Corps had encountered?

“I don’t want to talk about it,” he told her, his voice not much more than a whisper. He reached over and absentmindedly brushed a hair off her forehead, his stomach knotting a tiny bit when he realised that he was – in some shape or form – being intimate with her. That decided it for him: she was definitely drunk.

“Gamora, go to sleep,” he told her, his voice louder this time, louder and more authoritative.

[[ Can I just call you Pratty?]]

"Nonono." Rocket ran his paws over his ears, trying desperately not to rip the fur from his head. "She can find the damn cops on her own."

Exasperated he walked over to the entrance/exit of the dinky little restaurant and put his paws on it to open, waiting to hear if Groot was following. If it was right to occasionally tell a child no, it was more than right to tell an adolescent sentient tree no often. It was late and joints were beginning to yell with the day's toll, there was no way he was going to help out a child of all things.

---

Gamora held her breathe for the duration of Peter's touch, she was already far enough out of her comfort zone and the thought of anything more than what she allowed herself to touch him made her skin begin to crawl. But she refused to let it show and ruin what was a.) her first moment of trust in what had to be literal ages that dealt with anything other than her own guarantee not to stab her own back and b.) threatening to take the help away that she wanted to offer him. Peter was her friend (wait, right?) and that alone bestowed him an outreached hand whenever he dangled over some edge or another.

"Why should I?" she nearly teased with a tiny, wry smile.

@ peter quill.
[[....fuck]]

@ The God of Mischief.

[Hey at least you tagged the right person and not yourself ]

“You sure?” Groot asked. There was more than a little bit of disbelief in his voice, but if Rocket said the girl could find the authorities on her own then maybe she could. However, if she couldn’t and something happened to her… Groot shook his head, that wasn’t something he wanted to think about.

“Fluffy!” The child yelled and ran over to Rocket and tugged on his tail.

---

Peter shrugged. What was he meant to say? Because he said so? Since when had Gamora ever listened to him and done as he told her? “Because…” he started, and then he stopped himself.

Maybe she was right. Maybe she should talk about it.

“Do you think my Dad… Whatever he is, do you think he knows I’m out here somewhere?” Peter asked, not expecting Gamora to have the answer.

@ peter quill.
[[Ehh. Id have no excuse if I did. ]]

For a split second Rocket froze before taking his tail back, a snarl on his mouth, ready to wack the poor thing. But before he could speak the look on Groot's face somewhere behind the child caught him.

"Fine." He was stout with Groot before grabbing onto his tail and turning to the child, "But that's mine."

He thrust the door open then, embracing a chilled wind, and trusted them to follow in a quiet wish that the child wouldn't leave the crest of the doorway, that she'd be too afraid of them and the city.

---

Gamora gave a small shrug and squeezed his hand with as much strength as she could currently muster. Was this something he was honestly worried about? In an attempt to clear her eyes of the sleep that still lingered she weaseled her way into the smallish cavity between Peter's chin and his chest: being uncomfortable with her situation was more likely to keep her from passing out than biting her tongue or sitting up.

"I'm sure he'd be thrilled either way." Gamora's words were quiet into the fabric of Quill's shirt, his every breath setting her further on edge. "You shouldn't worry about it that way."

@ The God of Mischief.

Groot wasn’t going to abandon the kid. Especially not if Rocket said she could come and that they weren’t bailing on her. He reached down, offering his hand to the kid. “I am Groot,” he told her gently. He smiled as the child grabbed a hold of his hand and slowly, his pace matching hers, led her outside after Rocket.

---

Peter was a little taken aback by Gamora’s closeness. He was also aware that his heart was jack hammering in his chest as the sensation that wasn’t quite lust but was very much like it that he felt the first few times he had met her. He hoped like hell that she couldn’t feel it but he had a feeling she could.

But yeah, he was worried about it. “I’ve been wondering if he does know. If… If that’s why I’m here? Not like as in why I was born but why I’m here, in the middle of space, as opposed to on Earth.” He was rambling, he was aware of that, but now he’d started he couldn’t be stopped.

@ peter quill.

Unfortunately Rocket heard the child squeal behind him in time with Groot's footsteps: she followed. He still kept his tail in his hands, grooming out where the child had yanked on him. If he had to help a kid he wasn't going to take his time about it. Hell, he wasn't even concerned of doing it properly: he'd be fine just dropping her off on the doorstep of the next church they came across.

"We're not keeping her, Groot." Rocket muttered as he spit on the fur of his tail, trying to stop the crawling feeling of his skin.

---

Gamora could all but taste the apprehension that was coiled tightly throughout Peter's pulmonary system. So neither of them would sleep then, maybe that was good. As long as he didn't get any ideas. It would be a lie though if she didn't admit to herself just how much she liked this idea of control over his circulatory paths: it held promise and the warm comfort of dry cut assurance. Despite that though Gamora's own heart was ready to leap from her throat if she didn't move soon, her teeth ready to scream, her lungs ready to burst. Her position went against everything she'd ever been taught.

"Maybe." She paused, noting the way his shirt smelled of the must that came with age and something similar to a minty grain. "There's a lot of assumptions in that."

Gamora didn't tell him that they were healthy ones, reasonable ones, because the tension of their closeness finally snapped in the pit of her stomach. But instead of feeling revolted she was more terrified of just how safe she felt next to the thundering of Quill's pulse.

@ The God of Mischief.

We’re not keeping her. Why did Rocket keep saying that? Of course Groot knew that they couldn’t, and he didn’t want to, he just wanted to get the child back to where she belonged. Besides, he knew Quill wouldn’t let a child on the Milano… except him of course.

“I am Groot,” Groot told the child. He was delighted when she repeated his name at him: “Groot, Groot, Groot!”

He was oblivious to the sound of sirens blaring down a nearby street.

---

Peter didn’t think that they were assumptions. He was certain about it, he’d thought about it for so long, ever since Nova Prime had told him about the anomaly in his DNA. Again, without really paying attention to what he was doing, he placed his hand on the small of Gamora’s back.

“No,” he told her firmly. “I think I should maybe call Yondu.” The prospect of which, given his most recent promise to kill him, wasn't one he was exactly looking forward to.

@ peter quill.

Somewhere above the child's screeches of Groots name Rocket managed to note that there was probably a drug bust going on, or perhaps by the rushing sound of it, a chase of some sort. Either way he preferred the sound of sirens to the child's squeals. Groot hadn't even asked it's name yet, not that Rocket cared, but what kind of host was that? With a mental note to keep out of trouble within the area he turned to check that Groot and the kid were still close behind. And, almost unfortunately, they were so he kept on his forward path, looking for someone distinguished to pawn the kid off on.

---

"Just don't get eaten." Gamora'd meant it as a joke, despite the stiffness of her voice.

This wasn't natural to her, this strange position up against Quill where she wasn't trying to kill him, and nearly every fiber of her being was rallying against it in what could only be described as a slow burn. Through the ashes though, somewhere past the flames and deep within the embers, was a small voice that kept shouting at her to enjoy it-- that this was real tried and true trust. It took a few minutes for her to relax but as soon as she realized that there wasn't going to be a knife in his hand or some mafioso barging through the door or a natural disaster that tore down the building on top of them she allowed herself to fall back into Peter's palm with a quiet sigh. Vulnerability was something she could tolerate in the moment, especially if it was with Peter. And if that is what trust was like then she never wanted to sleep without him again: in all reality he was much more of a comfort than the stuffie she kept in her bunk. Not that she'd ever let Quill figure that one out.

@ The God of Mischief.

“I am Groot,” Groot said. The child carried on chorusing his name as they followed Rocket. He was aware that the sirens were getting louder; closer. It was unsettling him. “I am Groot!” He said loudly, trying to get Rocket to slow down. Out of the corner of his eye he saw a cop rounding the corner, his sirens flashing and blaring startling him.

---

Peter didn’t reply. His mind now racing with thoughts again. Now he was wondering why his father never did anything to help his mother? Did his father even know that she was dead? There was no way he was sleeping tonight. But still, he appreciated Gamora might want him to shut up now. She sounded tired. “You should probably get some sleep,” he mumbled. "I'll make sure nobody sneaks in to stab you in your sleep."

@ peter quill.

A cop, great, maybe they could just ditch the kid here on the sidewalk and get the hell away, leaving her to be discovered by the men in uniform after they'd taken care of their call. But was Rocket ever that lucky? It was as Groot jumped that the cruiser's speed (sort of) slowed to a stop in a wide U-turn along side the road in between the three of them, Rocket still up ahead. Doors flew open, guns were drawn, and backup was clearly called for.

"Put your hands where I can see them and send the girl forward." Even better, it was some butch of a female cop.

For some reason the situation felt familiar to Rocket, because more often than not it was-- just not usually with a kid, and he made his way forward, shoulders slumped with the monotony of it all, kicking a few pebbles along the way. Another screech of sirens appeared in the airwaves around them, followed by another. Just who was this kid? Coming up behind an open door was easy, and should he have wanted to he had open access to the cop's utility belt. But for now, maybe he'd try to reason: he was too tired to bitch.

"You know," Rocket started as he leaned on the inside of the open door. "We just wanted to return her to her owner but unfortunately she didn't have any tags. You should fine them for that."

---

"Promise me you'll get ahold of him soon? You've been even harder to deal with than when you need laid." Unfortunately Peter's slang had begun to rub off on her, really on everyone, and the phrase almost felt clunky between her lips.

What Gamora didn't tell him though was that asides from his newly obtained annoying habits she also couldn't stand to see him so distraught. He was supposed to head them up, to keep the crew as in line as possible and lead them forward, or at least encourage them. It was unnerving to see a self-proclaimed leader in turmoil, though there was something in the back of her mind trying to tell her that it was more than just the unstable feeling of a lost leader that gave her a distaste for his pouting: something nearly emotional. Almost by instinct and before she could stop herself she nuzzled into the small spot where Peter's heart was about to leap from his chest.

"You should sleep too." Gamora's mumble was almost in decipherable as she let herself relax into the deadweight of a warm sleep flush up against him.

@ The God of Mischief.

Groot saw the cop and opened his mouth. “I… Am Groot,” he offered helplessly, trying hard to reassure the woman that Rocket was telling the truth. That they’d found the kid and were trying to get her home. That was when a voice yelled from behind him somewhere: “she said hand over the fucking kid!” The second cop was male, from the sound of his voice he sounded older.

“I am Groot!” He repeated, sounding somewhat desperate. But he did as they said, he released his hold on the girl’s hand. He tried to take a step forward to reach Rocket but the angry sounding man behind him snarled at him to stay still.

---

“We’ll see,” Peter mumbled. He wasn’t promising anything. He didn’t particularly want to call Yondu. He wasn’t looking to be skewered by the angry blue bastard’s weird floating arrow anytime soon. He’d have to think about how he was approaching it. Did he apologize for switching out the orb back on Xandar and hope Yondu was still soft on him? Or did he call Yondu out on his bullshit and demand his answers? Either way he imagined he’d get himself skewered because he had a feeling Yondu would only consent to giving him the answers he wanted in a face to face scenario and Peter wasn’t not going to go. He couldn’t not go. He needed to find out about his father.

He smiled to himself when he felt Gamora nuzzling into him and leaned his head down so he could kiss the top of her head, well aware that she might knife him for it. “I’m not tired.”

@ peter quill.

"Lay flat on the floor, your hands above your head." The first cop screamed as she watched her partner usher the child behind the cruisers opposite door.

Apparently, though, she wasn't concerned with the talking furry creature behind her: chances were she was more afraid of the sentient tree. The adolescent sentient tree. Rocket had a small laugh to himself, it seemed Groot made for more than just muscle anymore, the distraction aspect that he brought to a situation was wonderful. Of course, the adolescent had seen some battle since the day he finally outgrew his pot but it wasn't anything extensive, nothing that Rocket knew he couldn't already handle. Maybe they should work on that: battle training.

"I said get on the ground."

Right, Rocket came back into the present at that, he had to some how try and save Groot without landing both of their asses behind bars. And then backup finally arrived in the form of two more cruisers that must have cut their sirens as they'd gotten closer. Four more doors opened and four more guns aimed. But this wasn't anything he couldn't handle: he just hoped that instead Groot wouldn't freak out. Not even caring who the hell saw, because apparently he wasn't enough of a threat to even register in the brain of this cop despite the fact he was almost in her damn car, he reached down to his holsters only to find that-- yeah, he'd expected a bar brawl, not a four car police bust.

Plan B would have to suffice. And so he scampered underneath of this first car and went to work on it's under and inner workings: part one, disable the damn things, as many as he could manage.

---

It was probably for Peter's best interest that Gamora had already managed to take the cliff dive off into unconsciousness, his kiss barely registering in the long run of things. There had hardly been a time in her childhood that she felt safe enough to sleep heavy let alone in her adult life and yet here she was ignoring the sound, touches, and smells of the room: it may has well have been the deepest she ever slept. She was quick to learn though, with the deepest sleep came even deeper dreams. Sure, she'd woken up before at the hands of a nightmare but there was something different about the hitch in her breathing this time, in the way she felt herself twitch. It was harder to escape them. When she finally managed to it wasn't with just a gasp or in her previous worst-case scenario a scream, instead she jumped up into a sitting position, every bit of her heightened senses as on edge as possible and her hand instinctively grabbing at her hip.

There was nothing though, at least no reason to be alarmed, and of course there wasn't a clock on the wall or bed-stand (not that time was anything that would help the situation when it barely mattered in the first place). After a few seconds of panting, of scoping out the room for any possible threat and finding none, Gamora ran the hand that was close to drawing her weapon out through her hair instead and forced herself to lay back down. As she curled into herself, still trying to control her breathing, she didn't check to see if Peter was still awake, in desperate hopes that he wasn't.

@ The God of Mischief.

Groot was terrified. Why were the cops pointing guns at him? He hadn’t done anything wrong. Well, he had sort of. He’d stolen that money from that busker after all. That had been nothing though, nothing but small change. Surely they didn’t pull guns out on people for that kind of thing? It was a petty crime, nothing serious.

Still, he didn’t fancy getting shot, so he did as they said. He took his time about it but dropped down to his knees.

“I am Groot,” he said in protest. His eyes darting all over the place as he tried to find Rocket. His stomach sank, he couldn’t see him. Where was Rocket?

---

Peter had been drifting in and out of sleep all night, kept up by an unrelenting plague of thoughts. Every so often he’d get up, to use the bathroom, at one point he’d gathered all his things and popped them in a neat pile on the armchair, then, a little while later, he’d let himself out into the hallway to inspect the vending machines for anything good (there hadn’t been anything in one, and the second which had been fully stocked, appeared to be out of order as it had happily swallowed Peter’s change but had failed to give him the sugary snacks he’d been eyeing up). Thankfully for Gamora he didn’t witness the episode, he was caught in the throes of a light and somewhat restless sleep. He did stir the tiniest bit however, and rolled carelessly onto his side and then onto his stomach, his legs tangled up in the ugly fleece blanket that had been placed on the bed for what he’d assumed had been decorative purposes, but he didn’t wake up.

@ peter quill.

With the first car compromised Rocket scuttled over the second, pausing to check on Groot, and continued to his progress. The first he'd rigged to merely not start, it's not like he had a lot of time, the second he needed to make bigger though, something a little more explosive. He could only hope that he finished it in time though with the first group of cops slowly going forward towards Groot (like he was actually armed or something) and one reaching out to cuff him.

---

Gamora hardly slept after that, managing maybe an hour's worth of something between awakeness and sleep, in favour of tossing and turning: originally making an excess of space between her and Peter but eventually ending up very near him again. At one point she stared at him in frustration of his light sleep, cursing at him quietly in as many languages as she could for the pounding her head was beginning to do, before she finally softened the crease above her nose.

She could tell that he was sleeping then about as well as she managed after to after scaring herself into the next millennia and she wasn't about to deal with a raging headache and a grumpy ass Quill. Asides, she tried to reason why she should actually commit to this, maybe cuddling him would help her own sleeping issues. So instead of getting up and making bed in the bathtub alone Gamora moved in a little closer to him, nestling into Peter's side the best that she could.

@ The God of Mischief.

“Hands in the air,” one of the cops shouted. Again, Groot did as he was told, he really didn’t want to get shot. Part of him was wondering if he should lash out, he might be able to take a few of them out and make a run for it, but if he did and they caught up with him? Well, he’d really be knee deep in the shit for it.

“I am Groot!” He said a little louder and then he added: “Rocket!”

---

Peter just slept.

[I DIDN’T KNOW WHAT ELSE I COULD SAY FOR HIM ]

@ peter quill.

"Do something you idiot." Rocket grumbled from within the inner workings of the vehicle that he had made his way into, wires loosely held in his jaw as he fiddled around.

A quite "Fuck it" escaped him as he finished fraying a few more words together, hoping that he'd managed to link up the correct wrong ones: there was little to no way of telling without studying their true origins, but he knew he was at least close. At that he showed himself out of the undercarriage and stood to take aim at the back of a cop's knee: a kill shot would be ridiculous, he just needed a distraction to allow Groot a chance to run. If he wasn't scared enough to peel himself off of the pavement. Rocket couldn't hold his hand through this, but at the same point an unexpected busy, a situation of pure and strict improv, want one they'd had to deal with since Groot was in a pot. On the Milano. While Rocket and Drax took care of what was a drug bust that escalated from behind the bar to the front.

"Would you get up and run?" Rocket growled as he ruined the leg of whoever this guy in a uniform was.

Before they turned on him he ran, he was already behind them, and made for an alley to scutter up a fire escape and onto a roof: if he was lucky, Groot would know not to follow him.

---

Eventually Gamora fell into a light, dusty sleep.
[We fucked up with the time periods. ]