And there the boy went again, calling him dad like that day on the phone. The word had cut him at the knees then, and it threatened to do the same now, but his boy was running across the cafe towards him, so he had to be strong. He barked out a laugh when Groot nearly bowled him over, but he clung back hard and managed to keep them on their feet.
This was all so new to Rocket, and yet, his body seemed to know what to do as he held on to Groot's shaking body, soothing him and petting his back and his hair. "It's me, Groot. Son," he said, his voice wavering as he tried the word on for size. For all intents and purposes, Groot was his son, he reckoned. Eventually the whole crew had adopted him as their own, but it was obvious that Groot had a special attachment to Rocket, and nobody had grieved him more, if Rocket did say so himself.
Groot wasn't the only one sobbing when Rocket finally let himself think of how he felt as he watched his friend turn to dust before his very eyes, how he howled in despair when he found no trace or twig or root of him to regrow him from. Not a molecule. "My boy. You're alive. You're not leaving my sight ever again, you hear!?" His voice became almost a snarl towards the end, as he held on just as fiercely to the warm body before him. So different and yet, he could feel it was him. "It's okay, boy. I'm here now. Everything's gonna be okay."