[ open; ] the city streets are empty now

[nostalgiabomb]

who: Peter Quill & open!
what: Quill is coming back from a canon update, which includes four years and the events of Infinity War. So he's going to be a little off his game.
when: August 24th and onward
where: All around Riverview & a bit outside the walls
warnings: none, aside from Quill having a pretty rough time


i. the sun always shines on tv;

[ Peter wastes a couple days, sitting in his apartment, staring at a wall. He catches Mantis hovering around, sometimes, and occasionally, he tries to send her a small, reassuring smile. Something that says, It’s fine. I’m fine. I just need a second. Groot doesn’t fully understand why Peter is so— weird, but the kid still recognizes that there’s something wildly wrong. And as the days drag on, Groot just drags over the Zune while Peter stares, offering Peter an earbud.

It’s on the third day that Peter realizes he can’t just— do this. He can’t keep moping. Because Mantis and Groot are clearly worried, and— what if the others show up? Peter did, after all. And Mantis and Groot are still here, hale and whole. So maybe the others will arrive, too. Any day now. And if they find out how completely useless he was while he waited, he’d never hear the end of it.

So he scrubs his face and announces that he’s going to take Groot to the beach.

Of course, about ten minutes after they arrive at the banks of the river for a day of fun in the sun, or whatever the hell Peter’s calling it, Groot immediately wanders away, slipping through the legs of the various beachgoers as he chases down one of those alien sugargliders.

Predictably, Peter panics as he works to shove past the crowd. ]

Groot—

Groot, get back here!



ii. new york groove;

[ A day or two later, Peter’s back at work. Unwise, considering he’s still injured, but the four walls of his apartment were quickly becoming suffocating.

His job with the Perimeter Guard, such as it is, is to scout the area, to map it out, to uncover valuable goods buried in the dirt or left abandoned in reasonable condition, and most days, he’s good at it. He’s agile and clever and does one hell of a job avoiding the monsters that lurk in the abandoned areas.

But today, he seems to be attracting trouble – though truthfully, he’s seeking it out, though he’s unconscious of it. Rather than veer out of the angry looking creatures’ way, he stumbles headlong into them. And for a while, he’s forging a decent path, shooting out huge, burning chunks of them and leaving the corpses to rot in the woods.

And then he’s not.

Peter never played Dungeons & Dragons as a kid, but if he did, he’d instantly recognize a Bulette when he sees one.

Or more accurately, he’d recognize a Bulette as it’s leaping at him, all gnashing teeth and sharp claws and hard armored plates. Peter manages to dodge out of the way, but only barely, and he goes tumbling and rolling across the jungle floor.

Little help? ]



iii. yesterday once more;

[ Peter was in the middle of wandering the aisles of Blu-Rays and DVDs in some electronic goods stores. In his arms is a stack of movies, old favorites and new ones he had picked out based solely on how interesting he found the covers.

The criteria for his current selections: Would the other Guardians like these? So far, he has picked out The Wizard of Oz for Groot and The Dark Crystal for Mantis. Along the way, he picks up Predator for Rocket and Rambo for Drax, because, well, they're going to be here eventually, right? And the films would be decent ice breakers, once they arrive

And he was in the middle of reluctantly looking for something for Nebula (would she have a good enough sense of humor about it if he picked up Robocop, or would she just threaten to sew his face to his balls like she usually does?), except right now, he's frozen in front of a shelf, completely zoned out while he faces a copy of Footloose.

Sorry if he's in your way, fellow patron. ]



iv. turn to stone;

[ It's been over a week since he's been back, and Peter's out on a very, very late night grocery run. He's been putting off getting them various odds and ends – paper towels, boxes of cereal, various snacks – and apparently he's decided tonight's the night—

(because the bed is too empty, and the atmosphere in the apartment is too fucking heavy, and Groot and Mantis are so fucking sad, and he can't stay in there, he really can't, not a single minute more, because shouldn't the other Guardians have been here by now? Shouldn't Gamora have come back with him, since they left together?

Why isn't she here?)

—because he's trying to be productive.

He's also decided, apparently, that baskets and carts are completely unnecessary. So here he is now, a former thief turned Guardian of the Galaxy, juggling his items in his arms as he stands in the refrigerated dairy section. He shuffles things around and reaches for a jug.

And fumbles it.

The plastic bursts open as the jug lands, milk splashing across the floor. It pools around his boots, and for a second, he just stares at it all before he lets out a helpless laugh, scrubbing his face.

One might think that life in space would have erased Peter's love of Terran idioms, but it hasn't, really. He used them whenever he could. Phrases like "killing two birds with one stone," or "letting the cat out of the bag," or going the "whole nine yards" were pretty common from him as he grew up on the Ravager ship.

There's another Terran saying that Peter uses sometimes: Don't cry over spilled milk.

Guess who's trying desperately not to do just that? ]

Comments

[shoplifter]

[At least there's that. Better some kind of positive response than a dead-eyed stare.

She knows that one a little too well.]

That is a dangerous question, Peter Quill Star-Lord.

I would take the whole snack aisle.

[nostalgiabomb]

You can take all you want, but I'm only offering to buy you one thing.

[ And he moves toward the check-out area, calling back over his shoulder. ]

One thing. And you better choose quick.

[shoplifter]

[Well you know what this is quite a difficult choice—



What on earth.]

These.

[Was this a serious log, with a serious thread, Peter Quill Star-Lord?]

[nostalgiabomb]

[ nothing ever stays serious for long.

And, listen, Peter is an 80s kid. Garbage Pail Kids were all the rage when he was in elementary school, so when Laura presents the box to him, he spares it only a glance before dropping it into his basket. ]

I would've figured you'd get gummy bears, honestly.

[shoplifter]

Gummy bears are for novices.

[Spoken so surely.]

I want to pretend to eat one out of my nose and see if the others lecture me.

[nostalgiabomb]

[ That.

Actually startles a laugh out of him, bright and loud, and he looks surprised at himself for a second.

But at length, he offers her an unsteady smile, just that much brighter than before, and he shakes his head. ]

Make sure you record the reactions.

[shoplifter]

[It is all she can think to offer, really. A little lightness.

She knows that it's helped her before, so now she can try and help him until the pain comes back.]

There are a lot of people I would enjoy flicking them at, in the hair.

[nostalgiabomb]

Like Susan.

[ A statement, not a question.

He's pretty sure everyone on the network knows Laura's feelings on that particular classmate. Obviously, Peter shouldn't encourage this behavior, but he knows a thing or two about being on the wrong side of a bully, so.

Shrug. ]

Just don't tell anyone I bought them for you.

[shoplifter]

[She nods; the secret is safe with her.]

I will torment Susan ruthlessly.

[Oh my go-]

Are you going home after this?

[nostalgiabomb]

[ He reaches the check-out line, and the half-dozing employee working the register snaps to attention when Peter politely clears his throat. He pays for his things – and the box of booger candy – and pays for the jug of milk he wrecked at the back of the store.

The employee, exhausted as they are, lets out a sigh, and Peter smiles apologetically at them.

Items bought and bagged, the two of them wander out of the store. And at Laura's question, he slows to a stop.

... You know, this should be an easy answer, all things considered. A simple yes or no. But Peter just stops in the middle of the sidewalk, cradling his groceries and staring off into some middle distance.

At length, ]

... I dunno.

[ But he should. Obviously. especially considering he's, you know. Carrying milk. And that's not going to last very long. ]

[shoplifter]

[She looks around, hands in her pockets. This is quite a predicament.

Because it's clear he's not keen on going home. She has an inkling as to why.]

... Do you want to go eat cereal on a bench at one in the morning?

[nostalgiabomb]

[ He can't help the breathless little laugh he makes, and he shuffles the bag to one hip, using his freed hand to scrub his face. ]

I dunno. Maybe.

[ Quill, you literally just bought that box, don't eat it all now. ]

[shoplifter]

[She rubs her chin.]

We could drop things off and play Hungry Hungry Hippos on the roof.

[A significantly drastic Plan B.]

[nostalgiabomb]

[ He glances down at her, startled and— a little amused, despite of everything. ]

... Shouldn’t you be heading to home?

[ Is it a school night? Is it not? Time is a manmade construct and/or an illusion and Peter has completely lost track of it. ]

[shoplifter]

I live in the community building. So the roof is part of my home, if that's the roof we play on.

[Implying that there are many roofs to choose from, obviously.

(There are and she's been all over them.)]

[nostalgiabomb]

[ He puffs out a breath, something that's not entirely sure if it wants to be a sigh or a laugh. ]

D'you have school in the morning?

[ is that what you kids do

go to school

he stopped going when he was eight years old. ]

[shoplifter]

[Shrug.]

I have school if I want to have school.

[LaUrA NoO

But hey, she's had more school in this year than she's ever had before!

... Which is easy, since she had zero days of school, before Riverview.]

[nostalgiabomb]

[ Listen. Peter should know better than this. After four years of raising a small tree person to something like adolescence and herding the feral cats that comprise the Guardians of the Galaxy, one would think Peter would be more mature, would think that he'd be more encouraging of normalcy and a consistent routine. Maybe if she caught him on a normal day, Peter would be ushering Laura up to her room, would be giving a practiced lecture about accountability and obligations

But this isn't a normal day. This hasn't been a normal day for about a week, now, and he's tired, and he doesn't want to sit in the apartment in darkness and silence, alone with his thoughts. And Laura is throwing him a desperately needed lifeline, so—

It's why he lets out a breath, relenting with a slow nod. ]

Hungry Hungry Hippos on the roof it is, then.

[shoplifter]

[She smiles, looking too content with his answer. What better way to ignore or avoid nightmares, than a game of murderous hippos? She turns on her heel and starts leading the way.]


We have plenty of snacks for it, too.

Better than what the hippos eat.

[nostalgiabomb]

Yeah, little white plasticky balls aren't exactly part of a balanced breakfast.

[ They make it back to the housing complex, stopping off at Laura's floor first. When they reach Peter's floor, Peter creeps back into his shared apartment, dropping off the perishables and plucking up a couple of the snacks he had purchased tonight – mostly candy, because Peter's always had one hell of a sweet tooth. He hooks his old Walkman over his belt, tucking the headphones behind them.

He briefly checks on Groot, on Mantis, just to make sure they're still fast asleep. Groot rouses a little, reaches sleepily to briefly curl a vine around Peter's finger, but the kid is fast asleep soon after.

Peter takes a breath before backing away to join Laura back in the hallway. ]

After you.

[shoplifter]

[She starts him toward the roof with Hungry Hungry Hippos under one arm and a pack of playing cards in her pocket, taking the elevator to the top floor first. Better than going the whole stair well, even if she doesn't mind it much.]

Do you visit the roof at all?

[nostalgiabomb]

Not a lot.

I mean, I don't really have a lot of reasons to go up there.

[shoplifter]

You should do it more. You'd be surprised how much easier it is to think.

[She says it casually, carefully. Like she's admitting a serious secret.]

When I get angry or sad and I cannot think straight, or I'm scared of doing something bad to someone or myself, I come up here and watch everything down below. [She figures if he's falling apart, it's only fair to be honest with him about when she does, too.] You feel like nothing can reach you here.

[nostalgiabomb]

[ Peter falls quiet, for once in his life, and really listens.

And maybe someone else would point out that it's weird for a grownass man to listen to the advice of a kid, but— listen. Peter's at a point, right now, where he'll take any grain of wisdom, no matter the source. Because she's... sort of got his number. He's crumbling, he thinks. He was already shattered when he arrived here, broken when Thanos had gritted out, I had to. And ever since he's been back in Riverview, Peter's been scrambling to pull himself back together, but he's losing more and more of himself, more of that control.

(Why the fuck aren't they here—?)

But he doesn't give voice to any of that. Instead, he follows Laura, walking out onto the topmost floor, finding the stairwell leading up to the roof. ]

I'm that obvious, huh?

[ A joke, cast out with hardly any conviction. ]

[shoplifter]

You are nothing new to me, Peter Quill Star-Lord.

I have been in the same place. [She glances back as she walks the steps; she's been here so many times, she doesn't even need to watch where she walks at this point.] I don't usually drop milk, though... I cut things up. All sorts of things. After the kidnapping, I fell very hard on those bad habits.

[She opens the door to the roof. Someone used to try putting a lock on it, so people wouldn't go up on dangerous ground. But. Well. Adamantium claws. The wind is pleasant, and there's a quiet that permeates all around, since they're high enough that sounds down below aren't quite so loud.]

... I'm better now. And sooner or later, you will be, too.

Living leaves little choice in the matter.