[ closed ] there’s a room where the light won’t find you

[nostalgiabomb]

who: Star-Lord Peter Quill and Gamora
what: when training goes wrong OR yer a wizard, Peter
when: early January
where: Perimeter Guard training facility
warnings: none yet!


[ It’s not that Peter isn’t a good fighter, really.

Because he is. He’s scrappy, and he’s tenacious, and he’s not afraid to fight dirty when he has to. The Ravagers taught him well, in that regard, if it could even be called teaching – how to time his shots, when to go for the nuts, shit like that. It’s worked well for him, for a long while. It’s how he’s gotten by for twenty-some-odd years out in the black, working on instinct and reflex and, when those failed him, a healthy application of gunfire and low blows. For the line of work he usually performed, it was fine.

Now, though, he’s saving galaxies and going up against zealots who might as well be as immovable as mountains. Now he’s going up against psychos who were practically immortal, who could manipulate the world around them to meet their whims. And one of these days, they’re going to go up against a megalomaniac with armies at his command, with warriors and assassins and about a zillion instruments of death at his fingertips.

So... you know. Jabbing out someone’s eyes probably isn’t going to get Peter very far, in the grand scheme of things.

If he’s honest, he’s not entirely sure what training up will do for him. It’ll make him faster, sure. Stronger, too, probably. But if he gets caught-out alone with one of Thanos’ generals? One of his other so-called children? Or, hell, the Mad Titan himself?

Being able to throw a slightly better punch isn’t going to help him much, is it?

But it was important to Gamora, for some reason, and the look of disappointment she had shot his way when he had initially refused had been like a stab in the gut. So here they are now: a former assassin and a former thief, training for a battle that may or may not happen, in the Perimeter Guard’s training facility. For once, they have the area to themselves – which is a goddamn blessing, because Gamora is basically beating the shit out of him. But, like, in a playful way. The sort of controlled, measured attacks of a cat toying with a mouse.

If he wasn’t so completely sure that Gamora was on his side, this time, he’d be flashing back to that sunny day on Xandar and running for the blasters he had left on a nearby bench.

And as it has almost every time before, it ends with Peter cursing as he hits the floor. ]

Comments

[godslay]

[ You know, she was about to offer him another scrap of praise, bland as it may be, but then he just had to go and be so Peter about it.

She scoffs, rolling her eyes at him. Pushing off his chest with her boot, she straightens up, setting her hands on her hips as she looks down at him. She intended to give him a hand up, but... ]

You will not win any fights by flirting, Peter.

[ getcha head in the game, boy ]

[nostalgiabomb]

You dunno.

[ A little petulantly, as he props himself up with an elbow. ]

I might.

[ Then, as an afterthought, he looks up at her with wide eyes and an innocent smile. ]

By the way, have I mentioned how pretty you look today? I mean, wow, Gamora, in this light...

[ slap him. ]

[godslay]

[ Completely unimpressed, ]

I will step on you again.

[ Or chuck him across the mat for good measure. ]

[nostalgiabomb]

[ He holds up both hands in a gesture of surrender. ]

Please don’t.

[ His pride has already taken more than a few blows, today, and it’s liable to take a few more before the day’s out. After all, they’d only just started in on their training session for the evening; he still has some pep to him before he ends up an exhausted, Star-Lord shaped puddle on the training mats. ]

[godslay]

[ That seems to be good enough for her, especially since he doesn't continue with the syrupy flattery, and, finally, she reaches out to give him a hand to his feet. ]

Are you ready to continue or do you need some water?

[nostalgiabomb]

[ He hauls himself up with Gamora's help, rolling out his shoulders, stretching out his neck from one side to the other. ]

I think I've got one or two more rounds in me before I need a break.

[godslay]

Then I trust you'll tell me when you need to stop.

[ Since the only time she's willing to go easy on him is... when they're not fighting. She's usually able to keep an eye on him, to watch and make sure he hasn't taken the wrong kind of hit, but she's also willing to let him push himself, if he tries.

As far as she's concerned, that's the only way to improve.

She releases him once he's up and on his feet, taking a few steps away to fall back into an easy stance. ]

Whenever you're ready.

[nostalgiabomb]

[ He takes a second to stretch out a little more before similarly falling into something close to a boxer's stance – both fists raised to guard his face, knees slightly bent, with his non-dominant side pointed toward her. It's nothing flashy, and in his younger days he used to wish he could kick ass and look good while doing it, like Bruce Lee, but alas. Not everyone can be such an inimitable badass.

When Peter fights, he always does his best to keep his distance, to stay just out of reach of his enemies, who tended to be faster, stronger, better. Alien biology, man. He uses his guns, his tools, whatever was at his disposal, rather than brute strength. He tries to be fast, tries to be agile, and a lot of the time, that works for him.

But he also tends to have his gadgets, unlike now.

And he also has the added benefit of outside, environmental distractions, which, again, he does not have.

So inevitably, Gamora will gain the upper hand. ]

[godslay]

[ Gamora waits, gives him some breathing room, some time to prepare (even if occasionally she rushes him, tries to catch him off guard, because his enemies won't give him those precious seconds). In his stance, ready to take her on – as ready as he can be – Gamora moves in.

She's quick, but not so quick to overwhelm Peter, holding back just enough.

Eventually, she's pushing him backwards, forcing him to give ground with each punch, kick, or swipe, finally closing the distance to grab his wrist, intending to yank him forward to sweep his ankle out from under him and take him to the ground. ]

[nostalgiabomb]

[ You know, this round was going pretty well, and Peter had almost tricked himself into thinking he might actually have this one.

He doesn't, though. Of course he doesn't. And things go wrong probably around a minute or so in, where she had feinted left and he had fallen for it, and it had put him on the defensive without an opening to regain his ground. Her hand closes around his wrist, and something like panic spikes in him, prickly and hot and demanding an outlet, though it's soon forgotten as loses his footing, as his back slams down against the mats again.

The air rushes out of him, and— whoa, when did he end up down here? That's weird. Wasn't he standing just a second ago? ]

[godslay]

[ She goes down with him, her knee landing beside his ribs as she folds his arm back, pinning his wrist. Hovering over him, oh-so casually, she just watches his face with narrowed eyes. ]

Keep me on the defensive. Push me back and force separation as immediately as possible.

[ She leans closer, challenging. ]

Break my hold.

[nostalgiabomb]

[ He hisses in a breath as she forces his arm away, holding him down, and—

Okay. Okay, that's good advice and all. She's trying to teach him something, and to his credit, he does file the information away. (Look at him: trying to learn. Be proud, Gamora.)

As much as he's usually up for a challenge, for a bit of healthy competition, but once again—

Peter is still Peter. ]

I dunno. [ Panted out, because he's still out of breath from this round. ] I kinda like where this is going.

[godslay]

[ This is supposed to be a lesson, and it's not very lesson-like – not when Peter is so... Peter.

Gamora, however, is still Gamora.

Instead of verbally telling him off, she just starts to apply pressure on his wrist, pushing back until it should become increasingly uncomfortable. ]

[nostalgiabomb]

[ ... well, okay, that'll teach him to make light of things.

Maybe it's the stupid optimist in him at work, but he had sort of expected Gamora to just— sigh at him? Tell him to focus? But when she continues to twist his arm, when she pushes, he starts to squirm, sucking in a sharp breath. ]

Ow, ow— shit Gamora, ow—

[godslay]

[ She doesn't let up, despite his complaints, continuing to apply the pressure. She won't damage him, that much she's certain of, but if he's not going to take this seriously, if he's not going to throw himself into the fight, then she's going to... motivate him.

She told him what to do, after all.

She leans her weight into it – controlled and careful – watching his face and paying attention to his body, but she only intends to stop when he can break the hold, as she's taught him, or if he genuinely can't. ]

[nostalgiabomb]

[ Gamora's probably talked him through this, like, a dozen times by now, but talking through it is much different from actually doing it, because just talking doesn't have the added distraction of, you know.

Pain.

He latches onto the first thing he remembers, which doesn't necessarily mean it's the right maneuver, but he's trying it anyway. His free hand lashes out, his hand gripping the nape of her neck, and he yanks her down toward him, hoping to break her grip and to roll her onto her back and switch their positions. ]

[godslay]

[ Better.

Gamora lets him perform one of the maneuvers she'd taught him, and she moves with the way he drags her, letting him roll her onto her back – mostly, to make sure his arm doesn't get mangled in the process.

She hits the mat with a light "oof!" and finally, with her hold broken, the pressure on his wrist is gone. ]

If you had done that sooner, it would have hurt less.

[nostalgiabomb]

[ He follows through with the roll, keeping the two of them close together to better maintain his control. Once she's on her back, he lets the momentum bring him up, and he straddles her hips.

Another break in the action, for now, and Peter massages his shoulder, huffing out an almost annoyed sigh.

A little petulantly, ]

Or.

You could've done that without hurting me.

[godslay]

I thought you liked a little pain.

[ ... Did Gamora just make a sex joke?

It might be hard to tell, given that her expression is still bland and unmoved, and she continues on, ]

I wanted you to take it seriously, and pain did that.

[nostalgiabomb]

[ Even if she wasn’t, Peter still takes it as one, and he flashes her a startled, pleased smile.

Though it turns into a pout once she finishes her thought. ]

I was taking this seriously.

[ he says, lying through is goddamn teeth.

He shakes out his hand (all the while still sitting astride her hips, oops). ]

You nearly took my arm off.

[godslay]

[ She knows he's lying, and the unimpressed look on her face says it all. He's lucky she hasn't thrown him off and across the room yet. ]

That was nothing.

[ Not to say it wasn't painful, but she means it could have been worse. ]

Would you like a better demonstration?

[nostalgiabomb]

[ He catches that flat, unenthused look she casts him, and he dithers a little.

After a second, in an effort to stave off both a lecture and Gamora’s offer (threat?) of a demonstration, ]

... I may have had a lapse in judgment.

[ But in general, he does take this seriously, but something about today makes him feel a little irreverent, a little...

Well. Assholeish, is probably the most apt term.

There’s a weird energy that’s been tingling up his spine all day, a weird restlessness that he can’t quite explain. He feels peppier than usual, for no real reason. It’s not like he got anymore sleep than usual, drank anymore coffee than usual. As far as he knows, he hasn’t imbibed or eaten or breathed or touched or existed in the general vicinity of anything weird, so—

He just figures he’s in a good mood. Or that Gamora has put him in a good mood. After all, these past several weeks have been a goddamn fantastic, collectively, which is why he hasn’t exactly put himself under a microscope. ]

[godslay]

Mm.

[ Still not impressed, still not convinced.

... Which is why she reaches up, grabs hold of his shirt, and throws her weight into lifting her hips to try and throw Peter over her head and once again reverse their positions.

Because he also earned that. ]

[nostalgiabomb]

[ Peter should have seen this coming, but – surprise, surprise – he doesn’t.

Which means when Gamora grasps his shirt, his first instinct is to grab hold of her wrist – not to move out of the way. He yelps in alarm as he’s flipped, and when he lands on his back again, the breath rushes out of him.

Hi again, ceiling. How have things been for you since you and Peter last saw one another? ]

[godslay]

[ Now it's Gamora's turn to land on his hips, her hand still gripping his shirt as she looks down at him. ]

Are you ready to do this properly or should I keep throwing you for the rest of the day?

[ Not that she has too many complaints about that, but she's sure Peter won't get much out of it. ]