( closed ) he's a jukebox hero.

[godslay]

who: Gamora and Peter Quill
what: Beetles and crystals and dreams – oh my!
when: 20 January thru... later.
where: AROUND?
warnings: Beetle murder and later, genocide and trauma.



[ It's not every day the Perimeter Guard gets to deal with enormous beetles.

Giant monsters? Sure, most days.

These ones just happen to be especially large and bug-like and capable of doing far more damage than anyone is comfortable with. They breach the Abandoned City's walls before the Guard can respond, but in a matter of hours, it's all hands on deck. Peter and Gamora aren't part of the force that will push forward in the experimental mechs, but Gamora isn't fazed. They've dealt with unnecessarily big creatures in the past – back home and in the Quarantine – and despite the size of the herd of beasts, the Guard is fortunate enough to have numbers of its own.

So for now, they're playing ground support.

The Abandoned City is simultaneously an excellent location – given its vast and varied battlefields – and also wildly inconvenient depending on where they meet the beetles. Now, they find themselves pushing back against the insects on the front of a boardwalk on a riverside beach, caught between the water and empty, rundown buildings. Some of the behemoths simply step through the river, others knock aside old houses, smashing structures that dare stand near their horns.

One of the herd rears up as Gamora and her team advance. They're attempting to take out a leg, maybe hobble it or slow its progress, but it brings its mighty weight down and forces them all to scatter as a ruin collapses around their heads. Shouted commands, quick orders to move, take cover, get out of the damn way! and Gamora dives out of the path of a falling sheet of concrete just in time to avoid being crushed. She can't see Peter, can't see the rest of her squad through the dust in the air and the chaos around them, and just as she's trying to make sense of her surroundings, another creature swings its formidable horn low, sweeping over the riverbank and crushing a stretch of rickety wooden planks that line the boardwalk.

She darts forward again, ducking behind what used to be a storefront, now reduced to crumbling cement and glass. She grits her teeth, looking above her for a sign of another massive bug, but—

She's clear – at least for a second.

Her fingers are curled around the hilt of her sword, and she leans around the corner of the broken building, looking for anyone nearby, and—

The familiar and distinct sound of Peter's blasters. ]

Peter!

[ Shouted out across the chaos, through the debris and constant destruction of the beetles pushing relentlessly forward. ]

Comments

[nostalgiabomb]

[ It's like something out of an old, low budget monster movie, isn't it?

The familiar forms of creatures, oversized and angry, crashing through the cardboard landscapes of city streets. People shouting in alarm as the local military puts its best foot forward, trying to take down the beasts. Except in this case, it's all, like, super real, and the city the creatures are terrorizing aren't inhabited, and— that's good, Peter thinks. If they were doing this in the city streets of the Quarantine proper, this would be much messier.

But Peter has some experience in this regard, at least. Monster-wrangling had been a small facet of the Ravager experience, which later carried into the Guardians experience, so he knows how to keep his cool while gigantic creatures lumber through to wreck his shit.

Problem is, Peter's starting to realize he really isn't equipped well enough for this.

His blasters are strong enough on their own, when he's faced with humanoid enemies who weren't equipped with rock-hard carapaces or nigh impenetrable flesh. The first few blasts had shown him that this was going to be a seriously uphill climb, considering his shots did little more than leave heated patches on the behemoth's shells, but—

Peter's used to playing distraction, too.

He's not sure where Gamora ends up in all the chaos, but he trusts that she's keeping herself safe, that she's doing her job. Peter's making good use of his aero-jet, laying down covering fire and dodging away from their swinging horns. He's doing a pretty good job of keeping himself out of trouble, too, except—

He glances to one side, sees a Perimeter Guard pinned by a slab of concrete, while a fellow guard tries to free him. There's a behemoth bearing down on them, and Peter makes a seriously easy decision:

He swoops down, shooting the creature in its face, successfully capturing its attention, and zipping away as it tries to bash him with its horn. Peter taunts it, shouts at it, makes a few personal comments about its weight and its homeliness while the guard below is pulled from the masonry. Peter fires at the oversized bug, again and again, and zooms away—

Except he's caught by another wayward swing as a different beetle tries to buck off a net someone had thrown around its head. The horn slams into his side, and it sends him into a free fall. He hits the ground hard, his shoulder absorbing most of the impact as he tumbles, head over heels, flipping and rolling until he comes to a stop in the shadow of some ruined building.

This fight? Going super well. ]

[godslay]

[ Gamora doesn't see Peter until she moves to another piece of cover, and then she spots him drawing the attention of one of the oversized beetles. The distraction may be effective, but the reality is that his blasters aren't going to do enough to actually break through the beast's armoring, and maybe that's enough for now, but...

She's just in time to catch sight of another beetle flailing around wildly, sending Peter flying to the ground, tumbling and rolling and—

Gamora is on her feet before she even realizes it.

Dashing from cover, she dodges around a behemoth's foot as it slams down onto what was once a pathway, and she finds herself ducking multiple sets of legs, stomping around in rage and panic alike to avoid the other Guard members.

She hisses a short curse, skidding to a stop near the building where she swears she saw Peter go down. ]

Peter!?

[ She's calling his name again, though she barely dares take her eyes off of one of the closer beetles. ]

[nostalgiabomb]

[ On the bright side, Peter keeps a grip on his blasters throughout his graceless landing.

(A hard lesson taught to him by Yondu. Always keep your weapons, boy. You get knocked down, that don’t mean the fight’s over. But you get knocked down and lose your guns? You might as well not get back up.)

He comes to a stop at the foot of a broken wall – wrecked by time and exposure, rather than the Attack of the Killer Beetles – face-down in the dirt. A high-pitched whine screeches in his ears, and he really hope that stops soon, because holy shit, it’s annoying. His right side and left shoulder throb, radiating pain, and Peter hopes that they’re both just... really bad bruises. Like, super bad, and not indicative of a break or something. He tries to get his limbs beneath him, trying to shove himself up with his good hand. He props himself up onto an elbow, at least, and shakes his head, trying to clear out the stars from his vision.

He raises his head when he thinks he hears his name, and he sees Gamora hurrying toward him, keeping her gaze fixed on a behemoth flipping its shit nearby. In a wheezing shout, ]

—I’m good.

[ ... well, mostly good. That fall had hurt like a bitch, and really, he should allow himself a second to catch his breath. But he’s slowly getting to his knees instead, folding his left arm over his middle. ]

I’m fine. Don’t worry about me.

[godslay]

[ She catches the sound of his voice through the chaos (good), and finally looks away from the behemoth above her to cast around for any sign of him. Another moment, and she sees him trying to prop himself up, and with a low growl under her breath, she closes the distance between them in a quick dash to skid to a stop at his side. ]

Is anything broken?

[ So much for that "don't worry about me" part, but Gamora has never excelled at turning away from her teammates when they're potentially injured.

(Not now, at least. Years ago, she would have left anyone in the dust or finished them off herself.) ]

[nostalgiabomb]

[ He expects Gamora to return to the fight with his reassurances, but instead, she practically appears at his side, her boots kicking up little bursts of dirt as she slides to a stop. He frowns at her, though the expression goes lost behind his mask; he wants to make her turn back, to tell her to jump back into the fray, but a part of him knows that she won’t. Not until she thinks he’s okay.

And he knows that, because he’d do the exact same thing if their positions were reversed.

His side shouts its protests as he finally gets himself sitting upright, but it’s manageable, for now. He’s done more with worse. His shoulder, though, might be a different story, and a slow, tentative roll of it punches out a startled, choked-off yelp.

Yeah. That hurt. That really, really hurt. ]

Shit. [ He clutches his left arm close to his side with his right hand, though he still has his blaster in his grip. ] My arm—

[godslay]

[ It's harder to ascertain damage on Peter through his coat, when there isn't any obvious bleeding, and she watches him move, shift, until—

She's immediately at attention again when he yelps, and her free hand snaps out to steady his good arm, and her focus moves to his left. Carefully, she reaches out to feel around his shoulder – no pressure, moving nothing, but still following his reactions. ]

What—

[ Another bellow from one of the behemoths, and the ground around them shakes, dust raining onto their heads.

She grimaces, forcing herself to concentrate on Peter. ]

Dislocation or fracture?

[nostalgiabomb]

[ His head snaps up with the sudden roar— and maybe in a different moment, he’d wonder why the stupid things can bellow like they do. (Like, do bugs speak on the regular and were just too small for people to hear it, or was it just the giant variety that had some form of vocal cords?)

As it is, he’s mostly distracted by Gamora’s hand coasting along his shoulder, feeling but not probing – and even if he feels the pressure of her touch, it doesn’t hurt as much as it probably should, so— ]

Dislocation. I think.

[ And he grits his teeth, dropping his blaster. His hand slips under his jacket to carefully feel his shoulder and— yeah. There’s a bit of a jut, there, where the bone of his arm presses through the muscle. His skin crawls briefly, and he swallows around the dryness of his mouth. He gives a tight nod. ]

Yeah. Dislocated.

[godslay]

[ ... Better than a break.

She nods in acknowledgement, properly kneeling in front of him and setting Godslayer on the ground. ]

Let me set it.

[ It'll be monstrously painful, but she's not going to move him while he's hauling around a dislocated shoulder. He can have it treated better back at the Guard's medical facilities, but for now, just getting the bone back in its socket might have to do. ]

[nostalgiabomb]

[ Oh, good, he thinks. That sounds fucking awful.

But— he’s done this before. Slipshod medical work performed by the Ravagers, both out on the field and back on the Eclector, where painkillers were either unavailable or in short supply. He’s done this before. He knows how it feels.

And universally? It feels fucking terrible.

But if he wants to stay useful, if he wants to stay on the field – which he does – that means he can’t be hampered by one arm hanging uselessly at his side. So quickly enough, he grits his teeth, his good hand slipping out of his jacket to clench into a tight fist, nails biting crescents into the flesh of his palm. ]

Do it quick.

[godslay]

[ She half expects an argument, but they both know that Peter isn't going to continue unless they do something about this – so the rest of her is unsurprised when Peter gives her that go-ahead. ]

I will.

[ A promise, sincere and intense, but first—

She steadies one hand on his chest, shy of his shoulder, the other reaching for the trigger behind his ear. ]

Look at me.

[nostalgiabomb]

[ He grits his teeth, and while he really, really wishes Gamora wasn't taking away his mask – literally, at least, in this case – he still lets her do it.

When the mask flits away, there's an all too apparent tenseness to his expression – the sort of grim-faced determination of someone who's about to do or deal with something that really fucking sucks. He still catches and holds Gamora's gaze, jaw clenched like he's trying to shatter his teeth. His free hand grips Gamora's shoulder to help steady himself. ]

Get it over with.

[godslay]

[ It's easier when she can see him, without the inorganic glow of the mask's red eyes. She can get a better idea of how much pain he's in, how he's reacting, and while she gets why he would want to hide away behind that shield, she needs to see him for now.

Gamora can't count the number of times she's had to set her own dislocated limbs in the past, and though she and Peter may have biological differences, she's certain she can do this for him without aggravating the injury. That doesn't mean it will be easy, and that doesn't mean it won't be painful (not by a long shot), but at least she can do it. ]

On three.

[ She takes Peter's arm carefully, bracing her hand more fully against his shoulder. Still looking in Peter's eyes, she holds his gaze for a few quick heartbeats—

—and doesn't even make it to "one" before she's snapping the humerus back into place with a sickening crack. ]

[nostalgiabomb]

[ He takes a few deep breaths in preparation, trying to keep from tensing. (The Ravager medic told him tensing made it worse, that going rigid affects the muscles, might make them get in the way as they snapped the bone back in place.

He wasn't sure if that was true or not, considering Peter's relationship with the medic had always left a great deal to be desired, but he still retained the advice, apparently.)

He holds Gamora's gaze, trying doggedly to ignore her grip on his arm, her other hand braced near his shoulder. On three, then. Okay. Okay. This is fine. This is fine. This is—

Never mind.

A shout rip its way out of him, caged in though it is by his gritted teeth, and he's super fucking glad he hadn't given in to his nervous habit of licking his lips, otherwise he would've bitten straight through his fucking tongue. He curls forward, his good hand bracing his left arm against his side, and when he has breath enough for it— ]

What the fuck, Gamora?!

[godslay]

[ Fortunately for Gamora's sanity and Peter's arm, the battle of the beetles doesn't last much longer. After Gamora goes out for the last fight, leaving Peter to rest up at their apartment, the beetles are finally dealt with, and the chaos outside the city starts to settle down. The Guard as a whole is tired, wrung out, and those who took a beating are given very pointed time off – which happens to include Peter. Gamora, given that she wasn't injured in the attack, continues to report for duty for the next few days, trying to make up for those that need to recuperate.

That does, however, mean that she's out of the apartment more than usual (when she would rather be spending time with Peter), but she still comes home with food and ends the days curled up with Peter on the couch, with Groot settled in one of their laps.

Five days of double shifts, and Gamora is actually starting to feel the increased workload. She's finally given time off of her own, and she doesn't even question it as she readily accepts the opportunity to take days with Peter – and Groot, too, of course. (He's been even clingier than usual after the days of added work, and there were starting to be some tears when Gamora had to leave in the morning.)

Her first day off is spent with the both of them, though Groot is glued to her for the entire day. By bedtime, he seems to have gotten over his separation anxiety, and instead of trying to crawl into bed with Peter and Gamora, he settles in his own without complaint. The second morning, he's barely concerned about being left with a babysitter as his parents(?) are given the chance to go see the odd new attraction that's opened up in the city. The Crystal Caves are beautiful, and intended as they are as a location for dates, it seems like the perfect opportunity for Peter and Gamora to get some alone time.

(Which, even ignoring Gamora's recent schedule, has become harder to find with Groot around.)

Gamora is almost surprised by how quickly the Crystal Caves are organized into such a functioning attraction. It seemed to become available so abruptly, and already there were souvenirs and treats and catered caverns. Pleasant, but startling. She and Peter get to spend the better part of the day wandering through the caves together, and Gamora finds herself willingly lost in the colors and lights, and with all its twists and turns, it makes for an afternoon of exploration, until they eventually find a comfortable place to sit together. Gamora stays tucked against Peter with an arm around him for a good long while, and it's the most she's been able to relax in... well, she doesn't know how long.

It's soothing. It's quiet. It's exactly what she needed.



It's a few days after their date in the Caves, and things seem almost entirely normal in the wake of the beetle battle. But now she's— restless. She keeps moving around in her sleep, unable to settle or keep still – not until she eventually ends up curled snugly around Peter with her face pressed to his chest, all while she continues to sleep more deeply than usual. She isn't peaceful, but rather than startle herself awake, as she more often does when she isn't resting soundly, she's losing herself more and more in the dreams that have become shockingly realistic.



The world feels— familiar.

When Gamora looks around herself, she recognizes the moons above her head, the lights dancing in the sky. It isn't the same as the lights that she watched with Peter during Hygge, but she knows them, knows them so well no matter how long it's been since she's seen them.

Something warm and nostalgic twists in her chest, and Gamora barely registers that she's standing on the outskirts of a well-loved city, that the quiet bustle of nightlife floats through the air in the distance. The sounds and smells she thought she knew by heart are so vivid now, shaking away the dust of old memory to fill her senses and give her a piece of what she'd thought might be too far removed for this kind of acute recollection.

But years removed as it is, she recognizes (knows, without a doubt) her home.

At her feet, flowers bloom in clusters from long, delicate stems – dark at the center, fading into magenta. She looks down, warmth and delight curling in her smile, and Gamora crouches in the grass to touch the flowers for herself. They feel so real, so... perfect.

She's distracted enough by the flowers that she doesn't quite realize she's not alone under the starlight and dancing colors in the sky. ]

[nostalgiabomb]

[ Peter is bored.

The first day after the fight, he'd been sore as fuck, stiff and seriously unwilling to move, though he had kept it to himself when Gamora woke him to leave for her shift. He sat up in bed, waiting as she got ready, and he saw her to the door with a sleepy Groot on his good shoulder, telling her to be careful, to stay safe. After that, he had soaked in the shower for what might have been a good half hour, letting the hot water ease out the tense muscles, and he had grimaced at the dark blotches mottling his skin.

It was probably for the best he didn't head back out, and even better that the beetle infestation was short-lived.

But now that there's no threat, now that he has time to rest, Peter is— ridiculously bored. Watching Groot is its own brand of exciting, but once he figures out that Groot will happily sit down to watch any movie with a shitton of explosions and bright colors in it, Peter can at least block out a couple hours of peace. This, at least, is kind of fun, helping Groot to understand the plot, keeping the kid engaged with the story, and sharing with him the flicks he used to love as a kid – it's nice.

But beyond that, it's... a lot of the same. Injured and aching as he is, there's not much he can do – or at least, not much he feels like doing – which means he can feel cabin fever ramping up. He's a little irritable, a little grumpy, and he's all too relieved whenever Gamora comes home, even if she's exhausted by her work. At least he can focus on taking care of her as a change of pace.

And when she finally has some time off, he's relieved for some company. He's still sore as fuck, unfortunately, but walking through the Crystal Caves is simple enough. It helps that it's pretty as hell, mesmerizing in the sort of way that reminded him of his first good month of space travel. It's nice, it's relaxing, and when Gamora curls against him as they sit in the caverns, he sees their reflections in a large, jagged crystal. He thinks, not for the first time, that he has no idea how he got this lucky.

(He also, despite Gamora's every misgiving, gets Groot a giant stick of rock candy, under the condition that it be doled out in pieces over the course of the week.)

But after that, his sleeping isn't too great, and he wakes up feeling exhausted. But maybe that's because Peter got himself some sugary souvenirs from the caves, too?



When he blinks awake, he's— standing.

Which is weird.

He feels groggy and slightly off-center, like he's waking up from some drug-induced sleep. He scrubs at his face, trying to rid himself of that odd feeling, before he peers around to get his bearings.

Northern lights above. The sounds of an active city in the distance. A field around him, and— flowers. Dark petals, lightening to magenta, and familiarity stirs in him. He spent ages researching these things, and even having never seen them, he recognizes them instantly.

He hears the rustle of movement nearby, and he tears his puzzled gaze away from the blooms to catch sight of Gamora, crouching to admire the flowers. The smile on her face steals his breath for a second, makes warmth twist in his chest, and for a long second, he doesn't want to interrupt, wants to let her just— have this.

Still, he needs to know what's going on, and he needs to know where they are, so eventually, he'll have to step in. It's a long while before he finally spurs himself into motion, taking one slow step, then another, until he's at her side. He hesitates before kneeling beside her. Quietly, like he isn't quite sure if he wants to shatter the peace— ]

Gamora.

[godslay]

[ Distantly, Gamora thinks that she hasn't dreamed about her planet in such detail for... years. Bits and pieces start to fade the older she gets, no matter how hard she clings to them, but this? It's like a perfectly crisp photograph, like actually being back.

The sound of her name draws her focus, and she looks over to Peter as he kneels next to her, that warm smile not quite faltering. ]

Peter.

[ More of a greeting, acknowledgment, though she realizes there's a spark of confusion in the back of her mind, because—

Peter shouldn't be on her planet.

That smile begins to fade, a thoughtful frown taking its place. ]

What are you doing here?

[ Not really "where are we," because she knows where this is; the sweetness of the dream, apparently, makes her less likely to question it. It's just an acceptance of the way things are – the norm for dreams. ]

[nostalgiabomb]

[ He’s glad, at least, that his presence hasn’t totally ruined things, but he winces a little when he sees the way her smile fades. This feels too much like some sort of intrusion, even if he’s not certain why. Shaking his head a little helplessly, ]

I dunno. I don’t even know where here is.

[ And still he keeps his voice low, still afraid to shatter the sense of peace. He looks around again, taking in the flowers, the dancing bands of light overhead, and he turns back to Gamora. ]

Where are we?

[godslay]

[ The softness of his voice, the careful way he tries not to disturb their serene surroundings, seems to settle some of her confusion, and instead of going rigid and closing in on herself, she's slowly unwinding. ]

My planet.

[ Rather than getting to her feet, she moves to sit properly in the grass beside one of the clusters of flowers. ]

The moons are in alignment tonight.

[ She gestures overhead before she leans back to rest her weight on her hands. Above them, lights dance in a wide spectrum of colors, flickering in and out and waving in bands of shimmering tints. It should probably strike her as odd that they're the only ones sitting out to watch the lights, but it barely crosses her mind. ]

[nostalgiabomb]

[ When Gamora moves to get comfortable, Peter mirrors her, sitting back and settling in. Her answer makes him pause, though.

He shouldn’t have to be the one to remind her of this. That her planet was razed by Thanos and his army, its people long dead – but he can hear the familiar buzz of the nearby city, can see that the place looks hale and whole. But that’s impossible.

He frowns, confused, but he looks up at her gesture, watching the ethereal sort of glow swaying in the sky. It’s beautiful, of course, but— ]

... Gamora...

Slowly, uncertainly, as he glances back to her. How the hell do you tell someone that they can’t be here, because the planet is gone? ]

[godslay]

Hm?

[ She tilts her chin, looking at him from the corner of her eye.

—but she doesn't wait for him to continue, and instead, she reaches for one of the flowers next to her, cupping the bloom lightly, reverently. She can feel it under her touch, and she's completely distracted by the sensation, lips parted in awe. ]

These are the flowers I told you about.

[ A sadder twist in her smile. ]

I've never seen them grow anywhere else in the galaxy.

[ Any galaxy. ]

[nostalgiabomb]

[ He winces a little to himself, though once she directs her attention to the flowers, Peter follows her gaze. ]

They’re beautiful.

[ This, at least, he offers up easily enough, though he’s still grappling with the harder truth, sitting on the tip of his tongue.

... But he can’t quite bring himself to say it. He presses his lips into a thin line for the moment, before giving a small shake of his head. ]

They only bloom tonight, right?

[ The easier topic to talk about, for now. ]

[godslay]

Yes. Something about the lights that they respond to.

[ She runs her fingers down the stem of the flower, then gently snaps it off, setting it into her lap, and then doing the same with another and another. There's something so peaceful about being here, and it puts her at ease – enough so that she doesn't question why they're here, how they're here.

Settling into a dream is always like that. ]

Did you still want me to show you how to braid them?

[ Like it's a perfectly normal thing for her to offer. ]

[nostalgiabomb]

[ Peter shifts awkwardly where he sits; he can’t sink into this weird reality as Gamora seems to have, and— he wonders if he’s dreaming. He wonders if he’s made up their environment based on what Gamora’s told him, and this whole things is just— a weird, hyper-realistic dream.

A dream about a planet that wasn’t his own wasn’t exactly out of the realm of possibility, after all. He’s dreamt about far weirder things, but— he doesn’t think he’s been as aware as this. He’s never second-guessed his mind and the landscape as much as he is now, actively thinking, “This is a dream,” and not having the world around them shatter.

He watches as she plucks the flowers, and for a second he really does want to shake her, but— she looks so calm, so tranquil, and Peter’s not sure if he’s ever seen her look like that. As much as he wants her to see how weird this all is, another part of him doesn’t want to pull her out of it if it means she can have a moment of peace.

Even if she is only a figment of his imagination.

He bites on his lip, uncertain, before he gives a small nod. ]

Yeah. Show me.

[godslay]

[ She looks pleased by the answer, something warming in her chest as she straightens, gathers a few more of the delicate flowers. She lays them all in her lap, then takes a long stretch of a flexible stem and a small handful of the blooms. ]

You have to tie them together first.

[ She wraps the stem around the bunch, knotting it, and then holds it up to show him. ]

And then you can braid them.

[ One stem over the other, then back again. ]

[nostalgiabomb]

[ He plucks up a handful of his own flowers, doubt still curdling in his stomach as time stretches onward. He licks his lips, as he watches he work, and he thinks— he should say something, or ask her if any of this seems odd, but—

How the hell do you do that casually? How the hell do you ask, “Hey, you know all your people are dead, right?”

It’s not like there’s a good way to bring that up.

He bites down on his lips and mimics her work instead, and while he hasn’t braided in a while, he picks it up again easily enough. ]

How do you add flowers?