ɴᴇʙᴜʟᴀ (cybertronics) wrote in valarlogs, @ 2019-07-04 12:10:00 |
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What an effing day.
First, he was late to his PO’s office, and wasn’t that fun. Even though he had his own business, had a place to live, was doing good, the other man was not impressed with him being 5 minutes late. Peter tried to explain the complexities of Los Angeles traffic, but the prick said Peter was supposed to plan for that.
How the hell do you plan for a 5 car pile up on the highway?
Fuming, he’d sat through the meeting, signed a few papers about court-mandated counseling, and basically crossed his arms, refusing to speak. Sure, it was childish, but damnit, he was mad.
And then he spilled his coffee on his lap, which thankfully wasn’t too hot, but when he reached for a rag to clean it up, he’d forgotten he’d used it for checking his oil and managed to smear grease all over his pants.
Yup, he was a walking disaster today.
Pulling into a strip mall, he parked and then groaned. Of course there was a pay meter needing actual coins. Who had that anymore? Everything seemed to be digital these days, but he needed to get a specific painting from this stupid store that had to be in the middle of nowhere and blah blah blah bitch bitch bitch.
And of course all he had were dimes and nickels.
Feeding money into the meter, he grumbled to himself, choosing to swear in Kree. At least one benefit to his dreams was that he was finding himself to be some kind of linguist -- he could swear in more languages than he could count. And how to ask for alcohol. Thank god the Galaxy had booze. He wouldn’t have survived.
---
Finishing up another shift always had Nebula’s mood improving drastically. The job wasn’t really the issue, by and large, Nebula had done worse things in her life. It was just the public, the general public at large, that really made things a bit of a nightmare at times.
So when she finished up, it was an instantly exit from the store, name tag still on, hair still tied back, stupid shoes still on her feet. She was in the process of checking her phone for her own messages rather than the stupid questions people asked about the store on social media. She was just passing the row of parked cars when she heard a familiar but unfamiliar word.
There was a certain awareness that Nebula possessed from the dreams, a knowledge that just shifted through, even without knowing how or why. Korath, from her dreams, taught her some of his heritage, before Father incorporated him into their family, fucked up as it was.
But the person muttering Kree most certainly wasn’t her adoptive brother -dream version or reality. “You should mind those words. Soon there’ll be a bunch of snotty teens running around swearing in Kree.”
She was curious though, so she stopped, spoke, and waited to see who was speaking Kree on Earth. In reality.
---
Peter looked up to see some glamazon white chick telling him not to curse. “Whatever lady,” he responded, frowning a little. He was about to answer more, maybe curse her out for telling him what to do, when he realized she had actually recognized the language.
Peering at her a bit more intently, he had to admit -- he had no idea who she was. She didn’t look familiar at all, and if he’d met her before, he’d dismissed her pretty quickly.
“Wait -- how do you know what language I’m speaking? It’s not from around here.”
---
Locking her phone and sliding it away, Nebula rolled her eyes, “No, I just name dropped an alien race off the top of my head.”
Of course it was while he was inspecting her, Nebula recognised him, under that weird mask in space, Star-Dork or something. “Why are you wandering around cussingin Kree anyway? Why not just cuss like anyone else?”
Seemed like work, or showing off. Or he had friends who were overly hostile about cussing. Maybe the tree kid thing was around. “Your swear jar getting too full?”
---
“Okay, first off, lady -- I can swear in whatever motherfuckin’ language I goddamn want to.” He glared at her and put his hands on his hips, eyes narrowed. “And it’s not my fucking fault you understand me, so if you do, understand this: go fuck yourself, and back off. I am NOT having a good day here, and I’ll be damned if you make it worse.”
He paused. He’d said first off, so that meant there had to be a follow up but he didn’t have one. Shit.
“And secondly ...you got some quarters to change for these nickles? I am going to be here all fucking day, putting these coins in.”
---
Seriously, was every Californian like this? Did it count as Californian if you weren’t really from there? “Jeez, chill out Star-Dork.” Nebula had no idea how she knew him, she knew such small details.
She knew he was on Titan, she had an awareness of him, Gamora, his little trope of idiots -she supposed they liked a different term. She knew Gamora mattered to him, enough that he went against her Father, something that so few would dare to do.
“Here,” she fished a few quarters from her pocket, change she kept for when she needed to hit the vending machines in the mall. “Maybe take the attitude down a notch or two when you’re asking for help.”
---
“I’m only asking for help because you’re talking to me,” he grumbled, handing her the nickels in return. Putting his coins in, he stopped again suddenly and sighed heavily.
“It’s Star-LORD, not Star-Dork and how in the frackin’ hell do you know that?” He thought he’d gone through most of his dreams already but this woman was not in them. He’d know. She looked normal, and his group rarely had normal women. Definitely not Terran ones.
“Gimme some answers here, or I swear to god, I am going to follow you around all day and smack food out of your hand or something.”
—-
Rude.
She was tempted to punch him in the face, or whack him with the nickels he traded. But it would probably be bad for image or something and she was still wearing her name badge.
The badge that she then raised a finger to tap at. “I literally have to walk around with a sign on me.” If she were being fair it wasn’t like she couldn’t understand why someone might not recognise her.
She wasn’t blue for one thing. She had hair and from what she knew of her own dreams so far, less metal.
“You attack my Father. Fairly, I guess. I help too.” Somewhat, although fighting her Father was somewhat futile at times, Nebula wasn’t giving up in any reality.
—-
Father? Whose father? He’d attacked lots of Fathers…
But something in the way she wasn’t budging reminded him of someone. The only person who hadn’t found him witty and hilarious and charming (okay like one of MANY people but in his mind, it was a small list).
Still holding the change, he squinted and tilted his head. “Nebs?” Before he could stop himself, he reached out and dragged a greasy finger down her cheek. Still pink. Obviously not paint.
“You’re not blue.”
--
It was a close call for Nebula to not break Quill’s fingers then and there, beyond the grease smear on her cheek now. “Are you kidding me?” Lucky she had a tissue in her bag just for these occasions.
Not weirdos touching her face, just gross human antics in general.
“No I am not blue, I didn’t know that was an option.” Even if she was in the dreams, she figured it was because she was an alien, not human, she didn’t think it would be something she had to explain here. “I assume I can’t just be blue here, people would notice.” Also, human.
“Do you just go around insulting people here? Is that your thing instead of stupid jokes and somehow flattering people?” Still didn’t see what Gamora saw in this idiot.
---
“I’m an asshole in any dimension,” Peter responded, still staring at her with a blank look. Even though he knew there were others in his dream dimension, this was really the first time he’d bumped into one.
Yondu didn’t count. Yondu was always there, whether Peter liked it or not.
Oh shit. Yondu.
“Well fuck. I guess you have to come and meet Yondu now. He’ll remember you too. You once turned him on his own crew….” Peter grinned slowly. “I’m sure he’ll be thrilled you’re here.”
---
Nebula’s eyes rolled so hard she was worried she’d give herself a concussion, “Whatever, Star-dork.” But then, he wasn’t too far off the point.
Arms crossed, somewhat defensively, because it wasn’t like she got warm fuzzies about meeting someone from her dreams, not at all, Nebula frowned at the mention of meeting someone else. The only person she could rightly and properly remember in her dreams, aside from her father and Star-fuck, was Mantis.
“Why would I want to meet someone who’d be thrilled to see me?” Yeah, that sarcasm was dripping. “I get enough of that at work.”
---
Like usual, the sarcasm went right over Peter’s head. He didn’t actually care, so it wasn’t something he was going to acknowledge. Wiping his hand on his already stained jeans, a flash caught his attention. “Fuck!” The few dimes he’d thrown in had already expired. Had they really been talking for that long?
Grumbling, he started feeding more coins into the meter.
“Well, if you’re here that means you’re on the network so I guess I’ll find you when I need to talk to you,” he said. “And I already told -- Star-LORD. But Peter will work here. Peter Quill. You’ll be seeing more of me, that’s for sure.” Because damn if he was going to let a link to his dream world walk away from him.
---
He was an actual disaster. How did he manage to function? Was he allowed to be out on his own? Should she call the local hospitals to see if they had someone looking for a missing ward? And then she remembered she didn’t care.
“Yeah, sure, okay.” The network was clearly tied to the dreams, and if that was just how they’d be linked, she could tolerate that. Right now, she had a glass of wine and some tv shows to binge watch before an intolerable shift tomorrow. “I prefer Star-dork, so, see you around.”
Maybe, if she were someone else, she’d have just shoved a couple of quarters in the fucking meter, but hell, she wasn’t that nice.