who gamora & quill what they talk about how things have been weird where another ship log b/c kim was slow af warnings some tending to wounds, lowkey feels
Peter pushed open the door to his and Gamora's suite with a plate in his hand. He'd debated before he'd left as to whether or not he should actually go but the voice inside of his head decided that Gamora would probably be more upset if he was hanging around fretting about her all night. Of course, the voice inside his head was usually off base with Gamora anymore, so who knows if it was the right call. Regardless, he justified it by not being out long, and returning with gifts.
He didn't see her in the suite's living room upon entering so he tilted his head to look towards her door. Ah, there she was, which really made sense considering. He made his way towards the room and knocked on the half opened door.
"Hey. I've brought you back roast beast," he told her with a grin, holding up the plate.
After that battle, Gamora had been left a little bit worse than the usual wear. Somehow facing down Ronan and dealing with Ego had been less of a hassle. She had been grumpy about going to triage and even grumpier still to have to sit through multiple sets of stitches. It was her fault for worsening them by carrying on with battle, but she could still be annoyed by them. She had been modified to take battle better than the average Terran, so being overwhelmed to any degree soured her mood.
Which was a shame, really, because her disposition had improved because of the battle itself. It had given her an outlet for the lingering irritation she had to divulging feelings to Peter. That he hadn’t responded to them didn’t actually perturb her, only that she had given in and said something at all caused her anxiety. She didn’t like feeling things, let alone something so sentimental.
Gamora had only just gotten used to being a part of a team and being a sister.
Hearing his voice and his jovial tone melted away her aggravation. She was sitting on the edge of the bed inspecting one of her stitched up injuries, some fresh blood visible. On the nightstand was gauze that she was about to reach for when he’d announced his arrival.
“The Kraken?” She levied, nodding at the empty space beside her. “Thank you. We can feast.”
He took the nod to be an invitation so pushed the door open further with his own body frame. It didn't take long to reach the bed and to flop down by her side, completely without grace. He held the plate steady but he nearly fell back further than he intended, though mercifully caught himself. He gave a lighthearted grin at the display before shifting to set the plate down on the bedside table. "There's other foods, too," he mentioned as he turned back away from the bedside table, his gaze moving to her arm.
He frowned at the fresh spot of blood that was visible. "You want help with that?" He asked.
Whether it was the leftover pain medication in her system or just that she had (more or less) accepted having feelings for him, Gamora’s smile lingered at his ridiculousness. Peter was not the sort of person she had envisioned herself fancying, not that she had a particular image in mind, but he wouldn’t have been it. He was so much better than she could ever be.
Glancing from the food to her arm, her gaze mollified slightly. “If you want,” she responded, handing him the gauze. “It is easier with another set of hands. It’s fine though, Peter. I have had worse.”
"Might be fine but you are right. It is easier with another set of hands," he replied as he took the gauze from her. He shifted on the bed so he could have better access to her wound.
He twisted just enough so he could place the new gauze to the wound, before letting his fingers scoop up the surgical tape that lay nearby. He tore a piece off with his teeth and pressed it to help hold the new gauze in place.
"We should change that out in a day or two," he suggested, quietly.
Nodding silently at his suggestion, Gamora remained that way for a moment before looking at him once more. She would never get used to people caring about her like this, let alone taking the time to doctor wounds. If only for a moment, she had been tense under his ministrations until relaxing at the sensation of the tape being applied.
“Thank you, Peter,” she said quietly, shoulders sagging with the relief of the new bandaging. Funny how a simple change of them could make a difference in the pain, though she had not been lying: Gamora had experienced far worse under Thanos.
“Will you stay and eat with me?” She asked, scrounging up some courage and masking it with pride. She certainly didn’t want to seem desperate for company, but she had been keeping to herself while she healed. In the next battle, Gamora would not be so careless. “It is fine if you can’t.”
He glanced in her direction and summoned the smirk that he always seemed to transform into his wife smiles. "Anytime, 'Mora," he stated, as though it was nothing. But the truth was that being here, able to see with his own eyes that the damage wasn't actually that bad, was comforting. He knew Gamora well enough to know that she wouldn't appreciate being questioned over and over about the state of her wounds.
He pushed his arms back out past him, leaning back on his palms, as he gave a nod of his head. "I'd been planning on it," he admitted, the smile softening.
"If you didn't mind."”
“Oh?” She questioned, eyebrow slanting up. That he wanted to be around her at all after what she had said to him baffled her, not to mention the difficult way she had been treating Peter. Unfair, dismissive, and practically avoiding him, Gamora hadn’t gone easy on him because of frustration with her own feelings.
Satisfied with his decision, for now, she slid back so that she was against the headboard. Crossing her legs, she winced slightly as she reached for the plate. Her body had taken a fair amount of beatings from the battle, some injuries were still manifesting the more she moved around. Positioning the plate between them without any audible complaint, however, she pushed it toward him as though to say he ought to eat first.
“I do not mind your company, Peter,” she told him in the same hushed tones as though afraid someone might eavesdrop and humiliate her for showing weakness. “I know I did not make it appear to be that way for some time.”
He'd had his own fill of food while he was down at the beach so he just shook his head. It was kind of her to offer, and depending on how long he stayed around, he might be persuaded into taking another piece of the kraken jerky. It was something he found to be rather palatable, reminding him more of the food he'd have had when he was traversing around the galaxy with the rest of the guardians. He'd certainly been onto embrace his older food habits upon arrival back on Earth, but having been away from what had been his normal for decades now, he found the gentle reminder to be comforting.
"Yeah," he said, dragging the word out far past it's necessary length. "I don't really blame you for that one, Gamora."
He glanced down at his lap for a moment. "I kept trying to figure out what could be going on. I figured my natural assumption was wrong." After all, there'd been such a length of time where she rejected all his advances. He just eventually figured it was time to let it go. Funny how wrong he'd been there.
Plucking a piece of the jerky for herself at his dismissal, Gamora nibbled at it slowly. It was much nicer being in the same room as him now, she had complicated their dynamic with her resistance. Carrying those emotions for him had been easier when they had gone undefined on her part. She ignored them as she had been taught to do from the moment she wound up in Thanos’ so-called care. A lot had changed for her since then, but she had yet to fully adapt.
“I do not expect anything from you,” she voiced finally, tilting her head up to look at him. With her free hand, she reached out to loosely grasp his nearest to her. “Peter, I was made into a weapon of Thanos. Knowing you and the guardians has changed me, but it is a slow and often difficult process for me. So, I am…” Gritting her teeth then, gaze abruptly averted, Gamora prepared herself to apologize, “...sorry for my behavior. You deserved better.”
His gaze cast down to her hand clasped against his as her words registered for him. He didn't want to undervalue what she was confiding in him and so he let her continue to speak, though his hand shifted underneath of hers, allowing for his palm to turn up and press against her own, fingers curling up around her hand.
He glanced up and raised an eyebrow with the pause in her statement and he had to bite down on his lip to keep from smirking. That was the Gamora he recognized. His hand squeezed hers in turn. "Hey, none of us are very good at expressing ourselves, are we?" He reminded her. It was usually a lot of shouting and witty comments. Never real quiet moments.
Then he sighed a bit, shifting so he could face her a little better. "I don't deserve much of anything," he told her, shaking his head, "And I'm not going to hold your behavior against you. I just didn't know."
He hesitated for a moment before he took in a breath. "I figured I'd be kind of an ass if I leaped forward right after it became clear." A pause. "I don't expect anything either but...don't think I'm not interested, 'k?"
Moments like these in between the lines, quiet and just the two of them, were what had drawn her to him. Peter was a good man, more than all the negative qualities she had originally pelted him with when she thought he would not do the right thing. They had all grown and changed as a team. Although she had thought of herself as good intentioned, being with the guardians had caused Gamora to evolve all the more. She left behind the tortured state of being a daughter of Thanos.
She was a guardian of the galaxy, not a tool for destruction.
Clasping his hand as emotions continued to stir underneath the surface, she ultimately smiled at him. She didn’t fault him for being silent, nor did she expect him to still reciprocate. She didn’t know what she wanted from Peter at all except to sit and listen to music again or roll her eyes in exasperation at his idiocy.
“You are a good man, Peter,” Gamora smiled almost sadly at him, fingers tensing in his hold. “Doesn’t matter what I might say around the others when you are being a fool. I want you to do what makes you happy. You don’t have to say that for my sake.”
He scoffed at that, his head lifting and his gaze looking away in the self depricating way that he sometimes summoned. He didn't feel like a good man much of the time, even if he did have his principles, few as they were and difficult as they were to define. His gaze came back to her now. "I wasn't saying it for your sake," he reiterated.
"I was saying it because it was true."
Leaping forward and trying to suddenly pursue Gamora after all the miscommunication had felt wrong. It had felt as though it would have been perceived as only having an interest because she had made it clear she had one; when the truth had been that there had always been a draw to Gamora from Peter. He felt like she deserved something that didn't seem reactionary.
"And, I know how hard things are for you, with everything that happened before," he began, trying to figure out the best way to set out his words, "I didn't want to make things moving forward harder for you too. I pulled back, I cooled off, because I just thought that was what you'd want. Having you around and happy was what was important."
"Does...that make sense?"
“It makes sense,” she answered after a long pause, attempting to process everything he had said. Pushing the plate aside for now, Gamora scooted closer to him. Words and affection did not come easily to her. Give her a blade and she could massacre an entire town. Replace the sword with a friendly hand to hold and she was at a loss. Sitting before him cross legged on the bed, knees brushing faintly against his legs as she had settled in comfortably before him.
"What do we do now, Peter?" She asked, feeling almost hopeless for a moment. The impulse to run was strong, so she grasped his hand somehow tighter as though to anchor herself to the moment. "I want to make things right between us."
Staring at him imploringly, she dropped her freed hand atop their clasped ones. “How may I do that?”