( closed ) domesticity isn't so bad.

[godslay]

who: Peter Quill and Gamora
what: An evening in the life of ridiculous space dummies.
when: August 11th — right before the amnesia event.
where: Community housing: floor 13, room 4
warnings: None!


[ Despite the fact that they've only been in the city for over a month, it's become surprisingly easy to find a new routine. It's far more laidback in comparison to their usual fare – less scrambling for legal and slightly-less-than-legal jobs – and only having to share a room with Peter is much better than the way they'd all been living on top of each other back on the Milano. There hadn't been much of an opportunity to adjust to the Quadrant, but their apartment is cleaner than the overall ship itself, so it has that in its favor. (That excludes the general messiness that comes from living with Peter, but that's bearable.)

But everything feels easier. The weight of the galaxy doesn't sit on their shoulders, they don't have to report to the Nova Corps, they aren't constantly recognized by "fans" or otherwise so— it's different. Gamora has a normal (emphasis on "normal") job for the first time in her life, and though it also happens to involve killing monsters and protecting anyone meandering beyond the wall, she has something as mundane as shifts. She reports in, handles a squad of her own for the Guard, but then she goes home for dinner like everyone else.

But being home for dinner means that a regular meal at roughly the same time has become part of her schedule, and since hers and Peter's shifts tend to coincide more often than not, that usually means they see to their dinner together. They've managed to sample a good deal of the restaurants the city has to offer, and their fridge is generally full of whatever leftovers they've had for the week; they don't cook much, but they still somehow manage to sit to eat together most nights.

It becomes a habit. In fact, she'd be more surprised by Peter missing dinner than she is by how they've fallen into such a domestic routine.

And that's what it is, isn't it? Domestic. Living together, eating together, spending downtime together. Sometimes that includes Mantis (because Gamora has become oddly protective of her, tentatively treating her like any of the other Guardians), but sometimes, it's little more than absently keeping busy near or with each other in the hour or so they may have to spare.

(Though as the days roll by, she's become especially fond of something as simple as waking up in the morning to see Peter snoring softly in the bed across from her. Sharing space isn't new, surely, but with their unfamiliar surroundings and all of this change – both here and back in their own universe–, just seeing him helps.

It makes her smile, and somehow, for the first time in a long time, she feels less displaced.)



Tonight, she comes bearing a bag of pasta for their dinner in various red and white sauces. She's discovered that this kind of food is actually tasty, and though she'd never experienced any of these sauces before coming to this city, she's decided that the Terran ones Peter had her try are more than worthwhile.

She unlocks the front door, letting herself inside, and then kicks it closed as she heads to the small kitchen to set down their food. She starts going through the boxes, putting them out one by one, before going to fetch a couple of plates and forks for them both (while ignoring the small pile of dishes already in the sink; they should probably take care of that tonight, but she maintains that it's Peter's turn again).

She pauses long enough to pull out her communicator and fire off a text. ]

Hurry up if you want to eat before it gets cold.

Or I'm going to start without you.

[ Probably not, but still. ]

Comments

[nostalgiabomb]

[ He adds the plates to the growing pile—

(They should... probably do something about that.

Probably.

Eventually.)

—and moves over to the takeout boxes, shutting them to put them away in the fridge. He flashes her a roguish sort of smirk. ]

Maybe, maybe not, but I could just lick the top.

[godslay]

Why are you so disgusting?

[ She sighs at him with complete exasperation (though it's partially for show) before she tries to get to the freezer first while Peter is busy with the boxes.

Obviously, if she can grab the ice cream before he can, the problem is solved. ]

[nostalgiabomb]

[ He glances up just in time to see Gamora marching with purpose toward the fridge.

Which makes Peter yelp out a startled, ] Hey—!

[ And moving to intercept.

Peter's always been pretty quick, after all, and he tries his best to slide around her, to press his back against the doors of the fridge, the takeout boxes forgotten on the counter. ]

Excuse you. What do you think you're doing?

[godslay]

[ Unfortunately, Peter has the advantage of proximity and Gamora not using her full capacity for speed, so he manages to get between her and the refrigerator.

She lifts an incredulous brow at him. ]

Exactly what I said I was going to do.

[ IE getting the ice cream for herself.

Duh. ]

[nostalgiabomb]

[ His nose wrinkles at that, mouth twisting. ]

Go sit down, dude. I can grab the ice cream.

You should probably start easy, anyway, before you get into the hardcore stuff. Vanilla will probably be a safer starting point.

[godslay]

[ Gamora doesn't make an immediate move to go back to the couch, and that skepticism hasn't gone anywhere. ]

Are you going to lick the ice cream first?

[nostalgiabomb]

[ Peter narrows his eyes as well, matching the expression on her face. ]

Are you gonna keep makin' fun of rocky road's name?

[godslay]

I think I can contain myself.

[ That flat sarcasm doesn't budge, but there's the vaguest curl of amusement on her lips. ]

[nostalgiabomb]

[ Peter maintains that skeptical look for another breath before his expression smooths out slightly. ]

Alright, then. So long as I have your word.

[ And he turns toward the fridge, waving a hand toward the takeout boxes. ]

Hand me those?

[godslay]

You have it.

[ And besides, if the ice cream is good enough, maybe she won't even mock the name again.

But, as he gestures to the abandoned boxes, she reaches out to pluck them up and offer them to him. ]

I assume we're going to need spoons.

[nostalgiabomb]

[ He stuffs them into the fridge without much ceremony, nestling them alongside the other takeout boxes they've collected. He plucks up a bottle of beer for himself, popping off the cap by smacking it against the edge of the door. ]

Yeah, just spoons.

[ Bowls? Who needs 'em? Peter's going for the tried and true tradition of eating straight from the carton.

He takes a drink as he's opening the freezer, plucking up the pint of ice cream. ]

[godslay]

[ Gamora doesn't really know any better, and she sort of assumes that a carton is the preferred serving size for Terrans, so she's completely fine with fishing out a couple of spoons for them from the silverware drawer.

She turns to Peter, holding them up. ]

These are the last clean ones. Just so you know.

[ Hint. Hint. ]

[nostalgiabomb]

Sooo. [ Lightly, in a way that shows he's being purposely obtuse. He pulls off the lid, leaving it on a counter as he makes his way back to the couch. ] Time to invest in disposables?

[godslay]

[ He's fortunate that she's learned to largely differentiate when he's being absurd versus actually being a problem, because it means her response is more exasperated than it is irritated. ]

It will continue to be your turn until those dishes are gone, Peter.

[ AKA "I'm not your mother."

But she follows him back to the couch with the spoons in hand, prepared to settle once again up against his side.

On the television, Rachelle has apparently started to ask Jerry for advice about Russ. ]

[nostalgiabomb]

Yeah, yeah. I’ll take care of it after this.

[ Probably.

Maybe.

... In that sort of way where he will conveniently forget once the show’s over.

He flops back into his spot, beer on the table and feet resting on the table’s edge, and once Gamora’s sitting beside him, he holds the tub out to her. ]

I’ll let you break ground.

[ Aaand he puts on a smirk. Did you get his pun, Gamora.

Did you.

Did you understand it. ]

[godslay]

[ ... Unfortunately for her, Gamora does get the pun – and the look she gives Peter says she doesn't find it anywhere near as funny as he seems to. ]

I am going to pretend that you didn't just say that.

[ She almost withholds his spoon for it, too, but she hands it over before she reaches out with her own spoon to dig out a bite of the ice cream.

She examines it carefully, glancing up at Peter. ]

... What is in this?

[nostalgiabomb]

[ His answering laugh is better categorized as a cackle. ]

What? That was a solid— [ But then his expression brightens, and he interrupts himself to correct, ] That was a groundbreaking joke.

[ He fist pumps, hand wrapped around the handle of the spoon. ]

Nailed it.

[ Anyway. At her question, he sobers a little – not a whole lot, obviously, but he looks a little less pleased with himself. ]

Chocolate ice cream, almonds, and marshmallows. [ He’s pretty sure Gamora’s tried almonds and marshmallows already, but he could be wrong. ] It’s good, I promise. Cross my heart.

[godslay]

[ Gamora is about to inform him that changing the order of the words doesn't create a better pun – or a more original one – but given that it might somehow offer him another opportunity to say something ridiculous, she's willing to let it go with an emphasized roll of her eyes. ]

I do enjoy those things.

[ In small doses, but she does like the sweet desserts Peter has introduced her to.

She examines the ice cream for another moment, then finally eats it.

After some thoughtful consideration, her brows rise in approval.

(And unlike certain people, she swallows the bite properly before she speaks.) ]

It seems your word is intact.

[ ... which is totally an indirect way of saying, "It's really good." ]

[nostalgiabomb]

[ He waits for a moment, watching for her reaction, and when it seems to be a positive one, he grins in return. ]

Gamora, please. I'm always a man of my word.

[ When it matters, anyway. And apparently ice cream matters.

He takes his own spoonful, and Peter being Peter, he doesn't wait to swallow to continue speaking. Sorry, Gamora. ]

I dunno if this is gonna be a concern for you, but try not to eat it too fast. You run a serious risk of brain freeze that way.

[godslay]

[ She pauses with another bite halfway to her lips. ]

... "Brain freeze?"

[ That sounds potentially hazardous. ]

Why would you eat this if it's dangerous?

[nostalgiabomb]

No, no, no, it's not— it's not dangerous.

[ This, as he's scooping up another spoonful and happily popping it into his mouth. Clearly unconcerned about this potentially life-threatening condition. ]

It's just uncomfortable. Maybe it's just a Terran thing? But when we eat too much cold stuff at once, we get this weird, like, chill in our heads. Lasts a couple seconds, tops.

[godslay]

[ Gamora purses her lips together, considering. ]

Maybe you have an overly soft palate.

[ But now that he's reassured her that it's nothing to do with the ice cream itself, she eagerly takes that second bite.

And goes for a third.

She doesn't really notice it, but with Peter holding onto the ice cream, she leans comfortably against his shoulder, her hip resting against his – points of contact that come so naturally, she doesn't register it. ]

[nostalgiabomb]

You have an overly soft palate.

[ ... whatever that means.

But his grumbling ends there. He keeps the little carton held between them, until he eventually grabs a pillow, placing it atop their legs as a makeshift table. He keeps an eye on the TV, as the cast awkwardly navigates the strained relationship between Russ and Rachelle. Peter frowns at the screen for a second.

(Briefly, he wonders what would happen if he and Gamora ever started something, and what would happen if they ever got into a blow-out like this. Would it ruin the team? Would it tear them apart? Maybe the two of them ever starting something is too much of a risk.

Even if he wants to try, more than almost anything.)

But Gamora shifts closer, settling in, and maybe she doesn't notice it, but Peter, on the other hand, does. He feels himself smile a little for it, feels a quiet flush of warmth for it, but he doesn't say anything. It's like calling attention to the trick behind a feat of illusion – it'll just ruin things.

They're putting a decent dent in the little tub of ice cream, though, and Peter's glad he bought a few other pints. The chocolate and vanilla are for them; vanilla isn't really his style, but Gamora doesn't have as much of a sweet tooth as he does. He figured it was a safe bet for those days when she (impossibly? inconceivably?) got sick of all the chocolate. The mint chocolate chip, though, he plans on handing off to Mantis when they meet tomorrow. He thinks she'll like it. ]

So. [ Blessedly between mouthfuls. ] Does this get the Gamora stamp of approval?

[godslay]

[ Gamora is momentarily content with the quiet as they sit together, sharing the ice cream as the television goes on and on. These people are a mess, she's decided, and even with her complete lack of experience with romance, this doesn't feel like... how it should go.

She doesn't want a relationship like that.

... Though she finds herself almost startled by the realization that she wants— some kind of relationship.

She finds herself grateful for the silence, because it gives her the opportunity to pick apart that odd idea, that tentative revelation. She wonders if the idea is truly new to her or if it's something that's played around the edges of her awareness for a while now – with that "unspoken thing" clinging to her interactions with Peter. She'd— acknowledged it, but everything had been hectic and weighty after things with Ego, and then coming to this city was yet another complication, and—

Everything is still unspoken.

However, Peter's voice drags her out of her thoughts, and she glances away from the television that she'd been staring at fairly aimlessly. ]

It's acceptable.

[ ... Considering how much of it she's eaten, it's probably more like "good." ]

I can see why you like it.

[nostalgiabomb]

"Acceptable." [ And he repeats it back with a heavy dose of skepticism, looking pointedly between her and the dent the two of them have put in the pint. ]

You don't seem that into it. Maybe I oughta just put it away?