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First Theme; Holding Hands

A sight escaped his maw as he gave another shutter to wake himself up. For the past hour or so, he had been cleaning his precious gun and the genetically enhanced creature was starting to feel the tug of sleep. However, Rocket refused to go to bed until the job was done. Their most recent bounty had gone different than planned and had resulted in gore everywhere. How? Rocket still hadn't grasped the true resolution of that—the point was anyway, that his gun had been covered in dark orange blood and it reeked! There was no other choice, he HAD to clean it… Besides, if left to dry, the blood would no doubt mess with the function of the gun and the last thing Rocket was going to have was his gun to stop working in the middle of a battle.

The shuffle of feet was the only thing that pulled Rocket away from his task at hand and he twitched his nose as he tried to identify who was approaching.

"What chu doin' up, man?" The drossy voice of Peter Quill came from the hall where Rocket could now pick out the figure from the little light his small lamp provided.

"Cleaning mah' damned gun, what do you think, genius?" Rocket sneered in reply, simply going back to his work after this. The soft cloth ran off the side of the gun, and Rocket almost forgot about the humie's presence. That was until a shadow fell over him.

The raccoon glanced up, and he narrowed his eyes in annoyance. "What do you want, Quill?"

"…I want you to go to bed and turn that light off. Last thing we need is our tactician to lose his touch because of lack of sleep." Quill said, his voice still held the tone of neglected sleepiness, but was stronger than it had previously been.

"Oh? I see now. You just want me to turn the light off so you can sleep. Is it shining into your room, hu, little Quill?" Rocket's voice dropped to that of a mocking baby-tone and he batted his eyes for a second.

"…Yes…."

"What was that? I couldn't hear you."

"..Yes…."

"Hu?"

"I said; YES!.."

Rocket's ears flattened on instinct before they slowly pricked and he gave a satisfied grunt. He knew that Quill most likely would get yelled at later by their other crew members for being too loud, but it would be worth it. "Go back to sleep Quill and stop bein' a damn complainer."

With that, Rocket went back to work but Quill didn't move from where he stood above his furry team-mate. Finally after about ten minutes of this, the raccoon had no more patience to spare for the half teran. "What!?" He snapped, head jolting back so that he could glare at Quill's face. "What the hell do ya' want!?"

"Nothin'… Just for you to turn that light off and go to bed."

"Puh-lease!... Leave me be, Quill."

"No."

"Why!?"

"Because you need sleep."

"More like you need sleep."

"Maybe… We both need sleep."

"Your point as to why you are still standing here if you are so worried about sleep?"

"…If you won't go to bed, at least let me help you.. Ya'know? Speed the possess up a little bit so you can hit your bunk sooner."

No answer.

"Oh come on, Rocket. You need help. You are falling asleep on top of that gun for goodness's sakes!" Peter scolded, his brows furrowing down as he glared down at the raccoon.

"-Am not!" Rocket jolted slightly as his head started to move to side before he caught himself. "So buzz off, Quill."

"Oh come on! Let me help you!..." Rocket's ears twitched and he looked down at the gun on his lap.

"Fine.."

Peter didn't say anything else, rather just settling beside Rocket and for a while they sat in silence other than the occasional 'hand me that' or 'I need that'. In fact, you could have sworn they didn't even breathe as the air about them was so thick. It seemed that neither wanted to do anything or say anything that would ruin the moment, as if some holy hour was passing between the two guardians.

The thing that ruined this silent ritual took them both by surprise. Rocket had commented on needing a clean rag to Quill, before realizing he was in reach of said rags and forgetting what he had just ordered the humie to do, reached for the pile. Peter had been going to do as he had been requested by his team-mate and the collision came. Rocket's furry hand landed on the rag pile a second before Peter's and with the humie still being half asleep, had enclosed his fingers around the smaller hand.

Rocket's yelp was what startled Peter to become fully aware of the situation that was going on and the half teran quickly released Rocket's paw. His internal thoughts objected though, as Rocket's hand had felt so soft… So small, and seemed to have fit perfectly in Peter's.. As if it belonged there…

"R-Rocket.. I!.. Uh!.." Peter Quill, for once in his life, was lost for words as he looked between his team-mate and the room around them as if he could now not sit still from embarrassment.

"….Quill, leave…"

Peter's heart sank but he got up and started to swiftly walk away. The half-human could feel the warming on his cheeks and he was slightly relieved to be going so he didn't have to explain himself. However, a sudden silent reminder caused him to stop and look over his shoulder. "Hey, Rocket?"

"Wha..?" The smaller guardian's voice seemed to crack as if speech was not on his side either.

"Get some sleep… Please…"

With that, Quill was gone, leaving Rocket sitting there. His own cheeks, ears, and neck were warmer than usual and right then and there, he realized if he didn't have fur, that he'd of been as red as those weird fruits that Peter liked to eat… Tomatoes, he thought they were called?...

Trying to calm his pounding heart at the weird feelings stirring inside him, Rocket slowly turned the light out and headed off the bed… Whatever had happened between him and Quill most likely had been a mishap. Some sleep would do it and Rocket would never have to worry about such weird-ass feelings again. Right?