This isn't real.
She's standing across the field from him when it's over. The dust and smoke have dissipated, the chaos has slowed, and she's right there - pretty scuffed up, but there, staring back at him with her lips parted. It's hard to gauge her expression. Some of her tangled hair is stuck to the cut on her cheek. She pulls it off and tucks it behind her ear, then, with the back of her hand, wipes away the blood that's running down toward her bruised jaw. She's sweaty. Everyone is. She probably smells like ass. She couldn't be more real.
But she isn't. Reality is being manipulated somehow. We didn't really beat him. Any second, she's gonna divide up into blocks or dissolve or some shit.
As everyone around them starts tending to each other, Gamora starts toward him. Now, her eyes are wide, the inner corners of her eyebrows raised. She stows her gun in its holster on her back as she quickens her pace. Peter steps back. If she touches him, he'll believe it, and it'll only hurt that much worse when it turns out she's not really there. Thanos would normally only alter their surroundings if he had a specific reason, but it will be easier if he doesn't fall for it. It's that, or he's dreaming. He's dreamt about her too much to trust his brain now that she's closer. Even if she's far more disheveled than she ever was in those dreams.
"Peter," she breathes.
"No," he shakes his head and casts his eyes downward, willing himself not to cry. "It's not you, okay? It's not. You-you're-"
"Hey," she stops him, reaching out and tilting his head up. Her gaze pierces him. It's intense, determined to make him believe in her. "I'm here. I'm not a hundred percent on how I'm alive, but I had to watch my ass to keep it that way on eight different planets before I found you guys, and I'm not going to stand here and have you deny it." She's not exactly angry, but she's refusing to give him any leeway on this.
That's her.
He raises his eyebrows and bites his lip, then says through tears, "Hm. Guess that explains…" He gestures in a circle in front of her face. "That."
"You should talk," she says, draping her arm around his neck and pulling his face to meet hers.
Their foreheads touch first, then their mouths. Gamora's free arm slides up Peter's, and she clutches it tight. They both have awful breath, but taste is the furthest thing from their minds. What they each want now is to know the other is there taking all of them in - or, at least, as much as is appropriate while they're surrounded by so many people they barely know, and, as far as Peter can tell, a few teenagers. They're pushing it as it is.
"Alright, you two," Rocket spoils their fun from a few yards away. "We're all just giddy to have a pulse, but there are children present."
"I am Groot," comes a grumble from next to him.
Rocket groans, "Yeah, sure, technicality."
Peter sets his jaw and sighs. Gamora smirks and lets go of him.
Drax and Mantis are catching up to them, so they start making their way back to the Milano.
"Alright," Rocket addresses everyone. "First order a' business back on the ship, everyone bathe. No gettin' in close quarters with the rest of us until ya do."
Peter and Gamora walk side by side, and she cops a feel on his backside.
"And you two," Rocket calls them out. "Second order a' business, get a room. Captain's orders."