|Peter Quill is a Star-Lord. (thehoffs_twin) wrote in avengers_logs,|
@ 2018-08-13 13:49:00
|Entry tags:||-complete, drax, gamora, nebula, peter quill|
Who: The Guardians crew (Gamora, Peter, Drax, Nebula, random mentions of others)
What: Moving into their new place
When: First week of August - ish
You had to hand it to him. No matter what else, Tony Stark followed through. Peter personally was convinced that was only because Pepper was so amazing (and terrifying. So effing terrifying) and could do anything in a matter of minutes. All Peter had to do was present his request for larger accommodations and BAM! An entirely new townhouse full of space. So much glorious space. Not that Peter really MINDED sharing with everyone. Hell, the Benatar wasn’t exactly spacious, but before, if he wanted a break he could just jump space walk for a while.
Stalking down New York sidewalks just really didn’t have the same feel.
Walking in, he nodded approvingly. “Oh yeah. This is nice. This is really nice.” It wasn’t like their old apartment was bad either -- just cramped. This though, he could see them all having their own space, their own privacy, their own alone time ….and everyone could have their own TV. He was tired of fighting with Drax over what to watch.
“I’ve got dibs!,” he called out, grinning to Gamora. “Unless you really want to pick first?”
This place was amazing. A dream, as far as earth places went. Space for everyone, beds for everyone, nice decor and, again, space for everyone. Gamora drew a reflexive deep breath as she walked into the place, smiling.
Gamora didn’t really know what ‘dibs’ meant; she tilted her head to the side a little, looking in Peter’s direction with an amused smile. “Based on the pictures I’d like the brick wall bedroom with the white...everything else. Not because it’s white, but because it’s spacious. So I’m going to go ahead and find that one somewhere upstairs.”
She pulled the bag of her own clothes tighter around her torso and walked further into the apartment, eager to explore. Inwardly, she desperately hoped no one broke or ruined anything (ever, let alone right away), but she would leave the rules, warnings and chore distribution for later.
“Sure, babe,” Peter responded, watching her walk off. He really didn't care where they slept, as long as it was together. Deciding that a tour would be good, he wandered off as well, finding himself on the outside patio. “Jesus, is this how rich people live?,” he mused out loud, running his fingers on the patio table. When Tony had mentioned the place, Peter had randomly googled the address, and then immediately spit out his drink everywhere when he saw the price. $5 million dollars was nothing to scoff at but apparently it was for Stark. Pocket change for a billionaire.
For the first time in his life (okay the first time in the last month or so) Peter felt woefully out of his element. Maybe that was why he spent so much time on his ship. Loud noises broke through his thoughts, and he turned towards the living room. “Don’t break anything! We literally can’t even afford to breath on this shit, so don’t even start!”
Nebula, carrying an entire couch one-bionic-armed on her shoulder, rolled her eyes. “I don’t break things unless I mean to.”
Drax walked in behind Nebula, carrying a box of dishes.
"I never break things. My fingers are nimble and my touch is gentle. I could cradle a newborn babe without issue."
Drax dropped the box and the sound of breaking glass could be heard.
"That does not count," he said. "That box contains no newborns."
Living in a bigger place was supposed to stop the frustration, but Peter found it was just growing. "Damnit, Drax....". At least it was only dishes.
The others crept in as well, each finding a space to call their own. It wasn't too long before Peter found himself in the living room, trying to make sense of their belongings. "Why do we have three copies of Terminator," he wondered aloud looking at the DVDS. Did they even own a DVD player?
"That is a manly account of a cyborg time traveling to kill a woman and her child," explained Drax. Which also explained why they have three copies. "You may learn something if you watch it, Quill."
It was hard to tell who Drax was rooting for.
Nebula actually looked interested. An alarmed and/or alarming expression.
Peter just shook his head and tossed the DVDS aside. "We have so much junk," he said, almost in awe. When he was a kid, someone told him that goldfish grew as big as their tanks would let them. He'd never been able to convince his mom to let him test the theory out, and she'd refused to let him keep his fish in the bathtub. Anyways, long story short, he wondered if that's what was happening here.
In the ship, there was limited space. Everything had to have a reason. You weren't going to waste fuel carting around something useless. And here on Terra, well.... you could buy so much stuff.
"Nebula does not have many belongings. I do not have a lot of belongings," Drax said. "I have myself. My pants. My boots. My knives. Three copies of the dee-vee-dee known as Terminator. And chips that are made in the Terran sun."
Drax had moved on from Pringles, to Cheetos, to cheese flavored SunChips.
“Three copies of the same thing?” Nebula frowned as she set down the sofa—a bit more gently than Drax had the dishes. “Does that help?”
"It is a worthy film. I do not want to lose it in the midst of Quill's junk," replied Drax, who had forgotten all about the box with the now broken dishes. He walked past it, kicking it with his boot so that it made an almost pleasant tinkling sound.
"I don't have junk," Peter grumbled, contradicting his earlier statement. Maybe he should have clarified that they had junk, but he had useful things. Like the surround system he was in the process of setting up.
His first paycheque had been entirely spent in a tech shop, getting the best musical system he could afford and the extra gear to fix it the way he wanted. He'd also found a record player and records on craigslist which were now his most prized possessions after his ship and his Zune.
can someone throw out that box before Drax decides bathing in ceramic would be the best idea ever
"And can someone throw out that box before Drax decides bathing in ceramic would be the best idea ever?"
Nebula shrugged, picked up the box in question, and made ready to throw it out the window.
“Nebula no!” Gamora appeared from the stairs visibly agitated, arm outstretched towards her sister. She ran to Nebula’s side and took the box, arms sinking slightly under its weight. Nebula always made everything look so much lighter than it was. “You’ll kill somebody! What’s this?”
She shook the box, ceramic parts clinking against each other. Gamora put the box down, jaw set as she exhaled through her nose. “Who broke all the goddamn dishes? You’re gonna pay for new ones.”
"I will replace these broken, cheaply constructed eating implements," Drax said as he walked by, carrying some pillows. He knew he could walk into any of the stores and walk out with these things, because no one dared to stop him or ask for money. Which he doesn't have anyway.
“By walking into a store and walking back out with them because no dares stop you for money?” said Nebula deadpan.
Peter stretched a hand towards Nebula. "Exactly that! This is why you've been banned from like all the bodegas around, and why I've had to start charge accounts for the other three that are still okay with you."
He rubbed his face and gave Gamora a look that could be interpreted as 'please never want children, we have enough weirdos who don't respect us in the house'.
"Just...make sure all the stuff gets in here unbroken? And babe, I'll go get plates later. We can just get a pizza or something, use napkins, we cool." Peter really just wanted to get back to getting the surround sound going. Everything would be better with music.
"They use money here?" Drax wondered for the very first time. "That is not true. No one has stopped me to ask for required compensation."
They have not because he was a very large, muscular, hairless, knife-wielding, scarified alien, that shuns shirts due to sensitive nipple issues.
Gamora had been about to ask exactly how Drax intended to pay for the dishes when Nebula voiced her concerns in her own way. She then returned Peter’s look with a tired sigh and a roll of her eyes upwards before leaning against the wall with her arms crossed in front of her chest.
She was smiling placidly at Peter’s problem-solving idea when Drax began acting as if weeks on this planet had taught him nothing. “Yes they use money here! Are you saying you’ve been stealing from everywhere you go because you’re too enormous and alien to be accosted?”
Aggravated, Gamora walked up to Drax, pointing. “You will stop that. You will get a job and you will make back enough money for a whole restaurant’s worth of dishware! Do you understand? We’ll ask around, ask Loki for an illusion spell like he did to me if we have to but you will not spend your time on this planet coasting by on… fear!”
After a moment of profound contemplation, in which Drax was staring at Gamora, daughter of Thanos, formerly known as a green whore (although he now knows that women are to be respected regardless of how they end up in galactic prison), and current part of his odd family. Yes, Gamora gave good sound advice. He would likely heed it.
Right after he earnestly announced, "I thought Terrans were a generous people. Their wares are so bountifully displayed, and they did not protest as I departed. Do not worry, Gamora. No spines were removed."
He shrugged like 'who knew?' and wandered off to move their other belongings.
Nebula looked at Gamora with an expression that was either Why the hell do you hang out with these people? or I’m starting to understand why you hang out with these people.
Peter felt oddly proud (and aroused) watching Gamora yell at Drax. It was good to see he wasn’t the only one who was annoyed by the blue alien. Some days, he did feel that way. Finishing up with the last wire, he proudly hit the button and smiled in delight as the dulcet tones of David Bowie filled the apartment. “NOW it feels like home,” he said, starting to do a little dance in the living room. Music always made him happy, no matter what was going on. Whatever tension was happening in the room, the minute he heard the right song, it was like all the cares of the world melted. Grinning at his friends, he got right into it, singing along to “Heroes”. Seemed appropriate for the moment.
“You know what guys,” he said, now sashaying his way over to Gamora. “Let’s just ...relax, hey? We’ve all been stressed, and life has sucked, but now we have this wicked ass place, we’re all together,” He reached for Gamora’s hands and pulled her close, still moving along with the song, “Life is gooooooood.” Knowing how much she hated any public affection, Peter still couldn’t help himself when he leaned over and gave her a lingering kiss.
It was hard to keep a straight face as Drax so earnestly promised he had removed no spines while stealing from afeared Terrans, but she managed. Gamora nodded, hand on her chest to signify her thanks and relief. “For future reference, wherever you see goods displayed, assume they have a price.” She called after him.
With a sigh, she shrugged at Nebula following her look. Sometimes she, too, wondered why she had attached herself to these people. When Peter finally fixed the sound system and one of her favorite Terran singers started echoing around the room, Gamora smiled approvingly. She held out her arm as he approached, chuckling when he started dancing in place. She allowed him to kiss her for exactly thirty seconds before pushing him away. “It’s been worse, I’ll give you that.”
That was exactly 20 seconds longer than he’d expected, so he was thrilled, even when she pushed him away. “Yeah, it has.” Looking around the room, he grinned some more. Home. Not really what he’d expected but not too shabby either. “Alright. Let’s clear out this living room a bit more, and then we’ll have place for food. I don’t know about you losers, but I’m starved.”