Rocket was still growling, his whiskers flared, from the effort and the anger of the mission when he brought the babies home. He quieted as he checked them over, carefully examining each in turn. He supported the head as he checked the first baby, from nose to dark fingertips and toes.
Rocket held himself unnaturally still as he skimmed his own fingertips over the babies' backs. Both of them were sliced and stretched and implanted, as Rocket himself had been. Then all the way to tailtip on the one whose tail was whole; to careful bandage on the other, stark white against her fur.
"You'll help me look after them," he told Groot, sounding rough, meaning everything.
Groot swayed his whole self forward in affirmation. The large pot around his roots creaked; perhaps at the next replanting he would be able draw his roots from the dirt and stride again. He wanted to be near Rocket on adventures again, not only in the ship.
Carefully, keeping them comfortable and moving smoothly, Rocket handed first one baby, then the second, to Groot.
Groot got his thin arms around both of them, and started rocking, slow as a breath of breeze through leaves. He told them, crooning, "We are Groot."