A/N: Just a little idea that I thought of.

A Very Merry Guardians Blichmas!

by MiscellaneousSoup

In the deepest depths of space, the Guardians of the Galaxy, otherwise known as the most rockin' semi-heroes in the cosmos were doing what they did best- partying like a bunch of wild animals!

Somehow, the ship was covered with Blichmas lights, while the interior was filled with a smoke machine, strobe lights, and a pretty impressive bar. Groot stood behind the bar, using his long limbs to combine several very alcoholic drinks and hand them to the various other heroes. Drax, to everyone's surprise, had some sweet DJ skills. Meanwhile, Rocket, that little pyromaniac, operated a killer fireworks show with the ship's spare weapons. Sure, he winged a few smaller planets and ships, but what are you doing to do? It's Blichmas, the greatest time of the year!

On the dance floor, Gamora showed everyone the ancient art of dance battling, mostly by doing the tango with a training dummy, then slicing its head off. "Yo, Drax! Spin me a beat. I'm going to show everyone how to turn doing the worm into an effective defenestration technique."

Drax looked puzzled. Gamora sighed. "Put a new song on." Drax gave her a thumbs up and started spinning the records again.

After a few more minutes of partying, Star-Lord came up from the basement, bearing a large stack of parcels. "Hey, everyone! I've got presents. Who goes first?"

Rocket jumped away from the controls and skittered towards Peter. "We're all going to give you your present first. We all chipped in for it. It's a copy of Ready Player One." Groot reached underneath the bar and tossed an ornate paperback to Peter.

He caught it and curiously began reading the first chapter. After a few minutes, he was openly sobbing. "You guys, this is the greatest present I've ever gotten. This is eighties paradise! I miss my home, but this really helps. Now I'll give you your presents." Producing a small knife, he slit each of the brown packages.

Lightly tugging on the material, he gently gave everyone their presents. "For you, Drax, a theoretical book on grammar, sarcasm, witticisms, similes, and metaphors. I know how much trouble you have with them and I really want to help you."

Drax beamed. "Thank you, my friend. I am sure that I will find it beneficial."

Star-Lord grinned. "Rad! Okay, next- Grootster! I got you some nice packing dirt and a pot for the next time you get cut down into a tiny version of yourself."

Groot nibbled on the soil. "I am Groot."

Star-Lord handed a rifle-shaped package to Rocket. "Bet you'll never guess what this is, buddy."

Rocket narrowed his eyes. "Oh yeah, real funny. If this is a water gun, I'm starting the biggest prank war you'll ever see." He tore the paper off, shredding it to bits. Inside the box was a new plasma-powered high-tech Blast-Tron 30000, with a free pamphlet on how to use it. Eyes shimmering with tears, he hugged it to his chest. "Thank you! Thank you, thank you, thank you!" He ran toward Peter and squeezed his leg.

Peter tried to prise Rocket off. "I'm glad you like it! Not to be a jerk, but my leg is kinda going numb, so…"

Rocket got the hint. "Sorry, Quill. Well, I'm off to kill some mooks. See you when I need a place to hide until the heat goes off!" He scurried to the escape pods, giggling like an evil madman.

"And, finally, you!" Peter turned to Gamora. "I got you an upgrade to the training room's simulation program. Seven new opponent holograms, including Deadpool, Squirrel Girl, Moon Knight, and Red Wolf.

Gamora pumped her fist in the air. "Nice, man! Wow, all of these must have cost you a lot of money. It's so nice of you to spend your cash on a petty holiday like this."

Peter's smile faded. "Wait, what? I thought Blichmas was some kind of space equivalent of Christmas. I mean, they're pronounced exactly the same!"

Gamora shook her head. "Nope. It's a weekend tradition, usually involving a dance party."

"Then why haven't we done it before?"

Gamora shrugged. "Eh, you know. Busy with monsters and aliens."

Peter held up Ready Player One, "But I thought Rocket said that it cost you a lot of money!"

"No, he just said that we all chipped in for it." Gamora corrected. "It's harder than you think to get Earth novels on the black market.

Groaning, Peter headed to the escape pods. "Nuts. Okay, I'm down about one thousand and twenty-seven credits, it's time to take some odd jobs to get my money back. See you in a few years!"

Forty-nine years later…

Peter, now wizened and old, entered the space ship. "Hey, guys, I'm back! I finally mowed enough lawns to make up for the expensive gifts!

THE END