Author's Note: Still madly in love with this movie. So, be prepared for a lot more one-shots in the future. This one came to me after listening to the soundtrack. Set post-movie with no knowledge of the comics. Enjoy!

"And I knew if I had my chance

That I could make those people dance."

—Don McLean, "American Pie"

Gamora is on the verge of having a splitting headache.

"Look, we take Friday off and then we can—"

"Quill, this guy will pay us a shit-ton of units if we deliver it on Friday." Rocket hisses.

They've agreed to use Terran methods of telling time, if only for the fact that Peter wouldn't be able to learn the more complicated forms of how time works. Gamora, for instance, measured time based on the setting of the three moons that surrounded the planet Thanos occupied.

"I am Groot." The tree chirps from its pot on the small coffee table.

"We could definitely buy one of those, Groot, but only if we get the job done by Friday!"

Peter, Drax and Rocket are all discussing—yelling, really—what their next mission to be and she's just about ready to turn around and silence them herself when Peter mentions it.

"It's my birthday on Friday, okay?" He tells the group and they fall silent. "That's why I wanted the time off."

There's a pause.

"Birthday?" She echoes, unsure of what to say now.

"Yeah." Peter mumbles, running a hand through his hair and awkwardly shifting his weight from one foot to the other. "I . . . usually take that day off." Grief flashes in his eyes for the briefest of seconds, then he quickly schools his expression, plastering a jovial grin on his lips. "But if you guys really want to—"

"No." Drax interjects. "We must celebrate the date of your birth!" He rises from his seat and heartily claps Peter on his back. "It's been quite a long time since I've attended a celebration!"

"Celebration?" Peter mumbles, seemingly confused. Realization dawns in his eyes suddenly. "No! No, I mean, there won't be a party or anything—"

"I am Groot!" The tree protests, frowning and waving his branches quite adamantly.

"Of course there will be a party, Groot." Rocket replies, shaking his head in disbelief at Peter's adamant refusal. "What kind of team would we be if we didn't have one?"

"Guys, really, a party isn't the best idea—" Peter protests, but it becomes clear to Gamora that the rest of the team is set on having one and his refusals are ignored.

"Come!" Drax booms, leading Peter towards the other room. "Explain to us what you would want in your celebration!"

"Guys, no, remember the last time we went to a party you guys nearly killed—"

"I am Groot!"

"He did have it coming, Groot!" Rocket exclaims.

The rest of the team leaves, their voices echoing down the hall and Gamora remains, her gaze downcast. She'd never celebrate a birthday before, not since Thanos had taken her and truth be told, she is quite rusty on what exactly you did when it was someone's birthday. The closest thing she'd received as a present was the distinction of being allowed to torture one of the Nova Corps Lieutenants while Thanos observed her break the spirit of the man. He'd praised her that day—that was the moment she understood why she was called "Lady Gamora" and why the others under Thanos commanded bowed to her.

"You'll go far, Gamora." Thanos had told her, a rare smile tugging on his lips. He faced the bloody body of the Lieutenant and laughed at the man's weakened state. "All of the intel obtained in less than half an hour." He placed a freezing hand on her shoulder. "Good work, Gamora."

She never told anyone, but that man's screams still haunted her to this day. There wasn't a day that went by that she didn't think of his family, of the life she had so cruelly taken him from.

Drax had been right—she'd been a monster.

But she has a chance now, to help make things right. With her team, she can slowly atone for all the sins she had committed. With each day that went by, the guilt lessened slowly until the burden on her shoulders felt the tiniest bit lighter.

Still . . . birthdays?

What did you get a Terran that seemed to have everything?

As she glances around and takes in the various trinkets that Peter collected, it hit her—

Music.

With a smile, she makes her plan.

"You're well aware that Terra is a forbidden place."

Gamora keeps her gaze level with Nova Prime, refusing to be denied this request. The conference room is filled with other members of the Nova Corps—most regard her with a kind gaze, but a few of the newer recruits are whispering, surely discussing why she is here if not to be arrested for her crimes against the galaxy—and at the head of the table, Nova Prime shakes her head and sighs softly.

"I ask for your aid, not because I require it," Gamora states bluntly. "But simply because it would make my journey easier."

"Such arrogance!" One of the Lieutenants mutters and she shoots him a sharp glare to silence him.

"And tell me again," Nova Prime leans forward; pushing away whatever paperwork she was looking at before Gamora requested this meeting. "Why do you wish to go to Terra?"

"I need something from there." She answers. "Something that I cannot find in any marketplace in the galaxy."

"And that item would be?" Nova Prime presses, her lips set in a tight line.

"I believe the Terran world for it is a 'music cassette'." Gamora replies, unsure of how to further explain what it is that Peter treasures beyond everything else.

"Do you know why Terra is forbidden?" Nova Prime rises from her chair, nodding at the other members of her council who quickly file out of the room. Soon, the conference room is empty, save Gamora and the leader of the Nova Corps.

"No."

"Terrans are quite strange creatures, Gamora." Nova Prime remarks, a hint of a grin on her lips. "They believe themselves to be superior than everyone and they seem to think—until recently, that is—that they are the only creatures in the universe worth noting."

"Yet, I know of people that have gone to Terra." Gamora points out. Yondu, being one of them, and whoever Peter's father was. She could easily get to Terra by herself, but it would take more planning than she had time for.

"Indeed." Nova Prime concedes. "Yet, they broke the law and should we ever catch them, they will be punished most severely."

Gamora rises from her seat, sighing.

"If you are not going to help me—"

"I never said that." Nova Prime interjects, waving her hand dismissively. "Sit, please."

She does so.

"We owe you a debt, Gamora." The Leader of Nova Corps states softly. "And if this is what you ask, then I shall help you."

Gamora can't help but allow the shock to grace her expression. She hadn't actually been expecting them to agree to her request. She'd been fully prepared to go to Yondu next and negotiate a deal with him that no doubt would've given her the short end of the stick.

"Truly?"

Nova Prime grins.

"Of course." She stands from her seat and motions for her to do the same. "Come with me, we haven't much time."

Gamora can't help but feel the tiniest bit elated.

The make-up sponge feels odd on her skin.

She watches with wide eyes, as her green skin becomes a normal Terran color. Her hair has been sprayed a plain black, which she finds a little bit disconcerting. Terrans are truly this dull?

"Why can I not simply use a holo-suit?" She asks Nova Prime, perplexed as to why this odd Terran make-up is being applied to cover up her natural green color.

"Holo-suits are too risky." Nova Prime dismisses with a shake of her head. "Terra's atmosphere might affect our technology and we wouldn't want to take that risk, especially with S.H.I.E.L.D. in such disarray."

"S.H.I.E.L.D.?" Gamora echoes, the name feeling foreign on her tongue. "What is that?"

"It doesn't matter." Nova Prime quickly informs her. "I just don't want to take any unnecessary risks."

"Nova Prime." A younger worker stands in the doorway and bows quickly. "We've located the target."

"Good." Nova Prime nods her head in approval. "Program the coordinates so that we may send Gamora down there." Turning her gaze back to Gamora, she smiles softly as the last touches of the make-up are applied. "There. You look like a normal Terran."

She holds up a mirror and Gamora nearly does a double take. She doesn't recognize the young woman in the mirror. Her skin is a light brown and her hair a raven black. She blinks, now noticing that her irises are now a chocolate brown.

"I look . . ." Gamora's voice fades away as she touches her face gently, afraid to ruin anything.

"You will certainly turn a few heads down there." Nova Prime informs her with a hint of warmth in her voice. "But, do not initiate contact with anyone but the seller, is that understood?"

"Of course." Gamora nods her head, feeling relieved to snap back into taking orders.

"Now," She's handed a few pieces of green paper with a drawn picture of a Terran man on it. "This is Terran currency."

"It's quite fragile." The former assassin comments.

"Yes, another one of the Terran's quirks." Gamora rises from the chair and glances at the clothes she was wearing—an odd, rough material called "jeans" and a loose top that seemed to be too tight in the chest and too loose everywhere else. How did Terrans go through life with such ill-fitting clothing?

"Thank you for your assistance."

The gratitude seems to take Nova Prime off-guard, for it takes her a few seconds to reply,

"It's my pleasure."

Now, it was time to head to Terra.

The first thing that she notices on Terra is the ever-blue sky that seems to stretch on for what seems like forever. In the sky, white clouds lazily make their way towards parts unknown and the sun warms her skin. She could see why Peter treasures this planet for it is one of the most beautiful ones Gamora has ever seen. Every color is so bright and vibrant—the grass is the perfect shade of green and the houses are a pristine white—and as she slowly makes her way on the cement sidewalk and watches the odd "cars" drive along the road, she can't help but wonder why Peter hadn't wanted to return here.

She continues to walk until she reaches her target—a small market set up on the lawn of house. A sign denotes it as a "garage sale" whatever that means and as Gamora approaches, she is taken aback by the seller's warm smile. She's an older woman—about 65 Terran years, which is old for Terrans whose species aged quickly compared to most species of the universe—and as Gamora rummages through the boxes, she doesn't even feel the least bit uncomfortable by the woman's kind gaze.

"Can I help you, dear?" She asks and Gamora nods her head.

"I'm looking for a . . ." She hesitates, trying to recall what the word she's looking for is. "A music cassette?"

"Ah!" The woman's eyes light up with recognition. "You want to buy a tape?"

Gamora nods.

"Goodness, I didn't know people of your generation still listened to those." The former assassin nods her head though she has no idea what the woman is trying to say. "Let me just grab them." The woman turns to her left and begins to pull some trinkets out of the box. "Ah-ha!" Triumphantly, she hands Gamora an old, scratched tape that has clearly seen better days.

"Thank you."

"I must warn you," The woman lowers her voice conspiratorially. "I have no idea what music is on that tape."

"That won't be a problem." Gamora answers quickly, moving to hand her the money, but the woman waves her off.

"No charge, dear." The woman tells her with a grin. "You're honestly doing me a favor and I don't even know if it will play." Her eyes light up with amusement. "It wouldn't be right to charge you."

"Thank you." Gamora tells her, taken aback by this woman's kindness. "Truly."

"It's just a tape." The woman dismisses.

It isn't just a tape though, not to Peter. It's a relic of his culture, his last remaining tie to this planet that he lived on. The music on this tape—the songs that he'll learn and eventually sing off-key—they're what keeps him going through the rough times.

"All the same," Gamora replies. "Thank you."

She waves goodbye to the woman before heading back down the road and towards the beam of light that will take her back to the ship.

Taking one last look at Terra, Gamora smiles.

Maybe Peter hadn't been exaggerating when he called Terra "the best damn place to spend a day on".

The party for Peter does dissolve into chaos.

Drax is drunk and currently waxing lyrical about his numerous kills to anyone who will listen. Rocket is busy threatening to shoot everyone in the bar and Groot seems intent on talking him out of it.

Still . . . this is what she expects from her team and it brings her a sense of comfort.

"Enjoying your party?" She finds Peter outside the bar, leaning on a rail and clearly taking a moment for himself.

"Not as much as everyone else seems to." He confesses with a smirk. "You think they'll ban us from this bar too?"

Gamora comes to stand next to him, her shoulder touching his. Funny, a few weeks ago they stood in pretty much the exact same position and the thought of conversing with Peter, of touching him was downright appalling to him. Yet, here she is, initiating the contact and actually enjoying the closeness and bond between him and her.

"Who'll ban us?" She remarks, a sparkle of mischief in her eyes. "We saved the universe."

He chuckles.

"If Rocket has his way, he'll probably blow it up."

A wave of nervousness suddenly surges through her system and she bites her lower lip, cursing herself for this sudden affliction. She has every right to give Peter a present—it is his birthday, after all—and she hopes, no she knows, he'll love it.

So, why is she frightened?

"Why did you not want to have a party?" She asks instead and he sighs softly before pulling away from the railing and running a hand through his hair.

"Birthdays . . ." He pauses, unsure of how to form his next thought into words. "They just remind me of my mom."

The admission stirs something within her that she'd been sure died so many years ago—the desire to comfort someone. Without taking a moment to second-guess herself, she places a hand on his shoulder and squeezes it, offering her support.

"I am . . ." She hesitates, unsure of what to say. "I am sorry for her passing."

Peter doesn't say anything for the longest time.

In the bar, she can hear Rocket shouting and Drax laughing in return. The music blasts and she wonders why she doesn't have the urge to dance to it, like she does with Peter's music. All music is, after all, just a rhythm with words thrown in. Yet, the music here lacks the emotion that Peter's did. Even though she could never understand what exactly the singers in Peter's music sang about—too many vague Terran references—she felt their passion when they sang.

They had heart, like Peter did.

"Thanks." He finally tells her, turning to her.

She summons up her courage and hands him the package, the paper a fiery red that she found in the Nova Corps storage room.

His eyes widen as he opens his mouth to speak, but she simply holds a hand up.

"Just open it."

He nods and she waits with baited breath as he opens the package.

"Holy shit." He breathes, glancing up from the tape to her and then back again. "Is this . . . Is this what I think it is?"

"Terran music." Gamora confirms, unable to keep a smile off her lips.

"But how did you . . ?" His voice fades, astonishment coloring his tone as he turns the tape over and over in his hand, as if he can't believe that he's actually holding it.

"Nova Corps owed me a favor."

He rewards her with the most dazzling smile she thinks she's ever seen.

"Gamora," He whispers, voice cracking as his eyes mist over. "Thank you."

She's about to reply when he pulls her to him and holds her in his warm arms. A hug—she hasn't had one in what feels like an eternity—and though the contact takes her a bit off-guard, she can't help but savor it. She has someone who cares about her—just her, not what horrible things she could do—and it makes her feel like maybe she has a chance at erasing some of her sins.

"You're welcome."

Slowly, she brings her arms up to encircle him, a rare display of trust for her.

They stay like that only for the briefest of seconds before he pulls back and begins to excitedly talk about what could possibly be on the tape, but it's enough for the realization to occur to her.

For in his arms, she's home.

Author's Note: I hope you enjoyed! Please review if you have a moment. Thanks!