InsaneJournal

Who: Peter, Nebula, Drax
What: Earth Lessons, movie night
When: Backdated (pre-dusting)! Aug 15-16 before Neb's post.
Where: Guardians Townhouse
Rating: Green

Of course the one day Peter finally remembers that Nebula is around and invites her over is the one day Gamora has to pull a double. That’s fine. He’s been around Nebula enough to feel comfortable with her and be about 92.8% sure she wasn’t going to kill him.

...maybe 91% confident.

Regardless, he had promised to teach her about some of Earth life. It might be the blind leading the blind, but hey, she was the best he had.

Lounging on the couch doing a Sudoku puzzle, he waited for her to arrive, and hoped Drax would behave.

“Don’t be yourself when Nebs comes. In fact, don’t talk. You’re just going to confuse her, and she’s already confused enough being on Terra.”

Since Quill was lounging on the couch, Drax was perfecting his mastery of invisibility. He was standing in the middle of the room and had not moved....other than to shift from one foot to the other, scratch himself, and belch. These sounds occurred roughly every five minutes. There was a faint 'You did not hear that' each time, which is Draxeese for 'I am invisible.'. If anyone thought it was an apology? Keep thinking.

Drax kept thinking. Philosophically. He thought about Cheetos and how they were coated in delicious neon orange cheese dust, and about how he turned to dust in a dream. Then he wondered how he would taste once he was dust, and hoped it would be like delicious cheese.

After licking the back of his hand to find out (The answer: 'I would taste like salt and vinegar potato chips. This is acceptable.'), he finally bothered replying to Quill.

"It is impossible to not be one's self." Drax was staring straight forward at a spot on the wall that was about one foot above the television screen. "Unless I skinned someone larger in size than my body, and donned their flesh as a disguise."

Peter wrinkled his nose at that thought. “Ew, too Silence of the Lambs for me. Plus, who would you skin that is actually your size? The Rock?” Was the Rock bigger than Drax? This was not a question that google would solve but now it was all Peter was thinking about. “And I think your head is like a freakish size. Maybe you’d need a hat.”

There was a moment of quiet as Drax looked profoundly thoughtful. That thought ended in a firm nod.

"I do not know what a lamb is or why it is silent. I do know that The Rock is a man. I would fit in him well."

That was probably not a statement to be elaborated on.
There was a knock at the door—the kind of tentative not of someone who was tentative but who wasn’t sure if this was the thing they really wanted to do.

Drax did not move. Because Drax was trying to imagine himself invisible while wearing the skin of the former pro-wrestling hero known as The Rock. It is now one of the universe's Top Ten Most Terrifying Thoughts. This is an actual list. It clocks in at #8.

Take a moment to consider how much worse numbers 1 through 7 are.

Peter rolled his eyes at Drax, and vaulted easily over the couch. Heading to the door, he opened it with a half bow.

"Welcome, Nebs, to Casa Guardians. Come on in, make yourself at home."

Closing the door behind her, he gestured inside. "Just Drax and me right now. Gamora had to work, and who knows where everyone else is. You thirsty? Got some pop or water....milk...." actually, now that he thought about it, did she even eat? Had he ever seen her eat. Weird. "Anyways, yah. Glad you came."

‘Nebs’? No Gamora? Oh screaming skies.

But ‘glad you came’… not something she heard often. And Quill was so sincere it was hard not to have it… feel… okay.

“I’m fine,” said Nebula, turning her head slowly to take in the surroundings. (Noticing points of ingress and egress, defensible positions, weaponizable objects. She didn’t plan on fighting anyone here but it was automatic.) Her eyes fell last on the other blue being. It was so strange saying casual nicety things like, “Hello, Drax.” and not making it sound like a threat.

"Damn it," Drax mumbled, trying not to break his stance of invisibility. He must have slipped for a moment. He would regain the ability soon enough. "Well met, sister of Gamora. It is good to see you."

Drax knew that Nebula ate and he wondered why Quill didn't offer any food. He knew this because she stubbornly tried to eat a yaro root that wasn't ripe yet. Drax thought that unripe yaro tasted like what his arm pit smelled like after battle. One of those pungent smells that is so strong, it can be tasted on the tongue.

And everyone's just found out what number 7 is on that list. Great.

At this point, there just wasn't any point in explaining to Drax he’d never gain invisibility. Peter just ignored it. “Sit, relax. This is a sofa. It’s especially made to keep you sitting.” Okay, he really had no idea what Nebula already knew and what she didn't. When he'd invited her over, he wasn't thinking about where she'd been, or anything. And now that he'd gone and made himself responsible, well that was even worse. “Do you know this already? Tell me if you do. I don't want you to try to kill me cuz I’m making an ass out of you and me.” He got blank looks back. “You know, assume? Ass. Out. Of. You” he pointed out” and. Me.” Pointed back to him. “No?”

Nebula just looked at him for a moment. At last she said, “I know what a sofa is.” Then… she relented a bit. “I appreciate what you’re trying to do. Perhaps watching an Earth movie would be a place to start.” Blending in had never been a priority (or possibility) in most of Nebula’s work, but she had an idea of how a different sort of operative would go about familiarizing themself with a locality.

"A film is good. Nebula. You would enjoy the film known as Die Hard. A tale of a man in a tall building during a yule festival, with many hostages to murder."

Since Drax had to ask if ripping out someone's spine was considered a crime (yes, that too is called murder), it wasn't clear if he was rooting for the good guy or the bad guy.

Nebula made the effort of a facial expression by raising her eyebrow. (And not thinking about Yondu’s ship. They were scum but it still hadn’t been pleasant.) “So as usual. Violence is universal.” She took her time choosing a seat, but having recently moved there weren’t many options, so, unused as she was to comfort, she reluctantly lowered herself onto one end of the sofa.

Peter was nodding in agreement with Drax. Die Hard WAS an excellent movie and violence WAS universal, but as usually he wasn’t really listening to anyone else and had moved on to another topic. “See? Already, we’re getting along great. This just shows how amazing this idea was, like all of my ideas.” He grinned. “Okay, so now that we’ve all agreed on the basics of Terran life, I think the next step is food. Food is huge and important. Cheese goes on everything. Cheese comes from cows. Have you see a cow yet? They’re big, black and white, chew a lot and make this ‘mooooo’ sound. Super important animal here. They’re also where burgers come from.”

"I enjoy the flesh of these beasts known as cows," Drax said. "They are succulent and their moldy milk is an ingredient in a variety of snack foods. It can be powdered and comes in a variety of colors. Such as white, yellow, blue, and violent orange."

That is now a color in Drax's mind. And it is a color that tastes of delicious processed cheese.

“Yeahhhhh…..Okay, so that was disgusting and now I hate cheese.” Leave it to Drax to turn the most amazing things into literal word vomit. Peter could almost taste it. “Anyways. I don’t know, there’s other animals too that are delicious, but I think what I like the most is all the canned shit. Can you imagine if we had Chef Boyardee on our ship instead of that crappy vittles? Like come on! That would be amazing! Alphagetti! Mac ‘n’ Cheese!” A pause. “No, not cheese. And also there’s clothes. You need new clothes. Have you heard of jeans?”

“I don’t think native clothes will make me inconspicuous,” said Nebula flatly. “And yes, I know of cheese. On any planet with animals that can be milked, they are, and similar things are made from it.” She was weary already. “Most physical differences in a culture I can figure out quickly. They’re often self-explanatory. I can discern other things from context. The greatest impediment is communication with those who speak only in Earth idioms.” Looking at you, Quill. But also Stark. “We should watch the movie and you can explain anything I don’t know from its dialogue. That may establish a baseline.”

And so, the Guardians watched the film known as Die Hard.

Drax laughed throughout the movie. For him, it was a daring adventure indeed, but he also tended to laugh as he flung himself at a foe with knives drawn, sometimes when he was flinging himself directly into their gaping jaws if they were a large beast. This adventure with the Terran known as Bruce Willis was a fine one, worthy of reveling in.

By the time the film had concluded, Drax the Destroyer had demolished his way through two bags of cheese-flavored chips baked under a Terran sun, and his hands and mouth were completely coated in a stunning shade of orange.

"This is a man's film," he told Quill and Nebula, and because Terra was about equality he nodded to Nebula. "But it is also a film for this murderous woman. New friend, you are akin to the character known as Hans Goober."

It's Hans Gruber, but Drax heard the word 'goober' too many times before, and that's all his brain could remember.

“You’re a fucking goober,” Peter muttered under his breath. The movie was entertaining though, and as annoying as Drax could be, they had similar tastes in movies and had gone through an impressive amount during Peter’s unemployment. “And movies aren’t for boys or girls.” That was such a dumb concept. The most dangerous people he’d ever met in his entire life were both female. “If Nebs was Hans Gruber, no one would win, that entire building would have been demolished and she wouldn’t have bothered to get the police around.” He gave her a nod, trying to show how proud he was to know her. “She is one efficient murder-bot.”

Nebula, having spent the movie alternately having her eyes flicker like she was calculating different scenarios or muttering under her breath about moves or tactics (conclusion: John McClane = competent, everyone else = needs work), finally looked up like she was remembering the other two existed.

“It is a man’s movie,” she astonishingly agreed with Drax. “Clearly made by men since all the characters who take any meaningful action are male. In reality, this would not be the case.” But she also nodded in… mixed acknowledgement of Peter’s comment. (Appreciating his sentiment while not particularly fond of her own reality.)

Then a look passed over her face that was unlike any she’d shared with them before: thoughtfully… engaged. “If I were Gruber…” And she launched into a detailed one-person plan that would have been devastating and taken considerably less time than the movie. “Giving him my own attributes rather than assuming I was limited to his,” she finished, in a bit of concession.

Peter looked at her, slightly stunned before clapping slowly. “I am so glad you’re not trying to murder me anymore,” he said, eyes wide open. “I mean, jesus -- that was amazing. I have good plans, like you know -- AMAZINGLY good plans, but that? Wow.” He gave a low whistle. “With that attitude, we’re definitely gonna beat Thanos down this time!”

Nebula said nothing.