Title: The Wannabe Era
Summary: Peter Quill has gone 26 years without knowing the wonders of modern music.
Character(s): Peter Quill, Ensemble
Disclaimer: Not mine!
Notes: That summary is only half-sarcastic. Done for a prompt over at guardian_kink on livejournal; I hope this does it for you, OP!

The first letter was innocuous. Peter, much to the chagrin of the others, had immediately opened it in what he would forever deny as frantic excitement.

"It could have been a dormant bomb," Gamora stressed later, after the contents had been 'dealt with' (her words, of course), but at the time Peter had associated the weight of the little package with the potential for presents. Between his love for music, sex, and his still-brand-new job, presents were ranked pretty high on Peter Quill's List of Favorite Things. After a brief struggle to open up the thickly taped envelope, the five of them found themselves staring at a piece of paper, wrapped around a familiar looking little rectangle.

It had been maybe a month since the Guardians had gone down to Terra to aid the Avengers ("What assholes," Rocket had said as they'd exited the atmosphere, "who the hell calls themselves 'The Avengers' anyway?") and after the hoopla of the events that had called them down there in the first place (which were not, under any circumstances, to be discussed on the Milano, nor would the Hulk ever be mentioned ever, by threat of death on part of Gamora) they had somehow been wrangled into giving a brief interview.

And by 'somehow,' they meant Tony Stark. Who was also "the biggest asshole of them all," only this time, the entire crew agreed. Regardless, Peter had made the mistake of answering a question about what changes on Earth were the most intriguing to him, now that he allegedly had the time to see them, given that the latest threat had been annihilated. ("How obnoxious," Gamora had said, "to call Terra Earth when there are thousands of earths throughout the galaxies.") Peter, unaware of just how many scavengers existed in modern journalism, had casually said, "Well, I've missed over twenty years of new songs, so probably that? I don't know, man."

Which, after several proclamations of disbelief from the Avenger's crew (including the flat-out refusal to accept anything from Tony, allegedly superior technology be damned), lead the Guardians to once again return to the Milano to try to find whatever peace could be found fighting evil throughout the galaxy. They'd been on Terra for about two weeks and were, quite frankly, tired of Terrans. Asgard had tried to set them up with what could be best described as a mail-route, helping transport any Terra mail out to space, where it would go through a complex system by their own design to eventually reach the Guardians as they hopped from one edge of the galaxy to another. Ideally. Peter was pretty sure it wasn't going to work.

Let it be known that, while Rocket also thought of said Asgardians as assholes, he had since developed a fondness for their mead, despite the killer hangovers it caused in all of them save Groot. The mail system did not, however, appear to be working as well as had been hoped. This was the second time they'd gotten mail; the first time had been a letter to Groot that was equal parts cute and vaguely horrifying.

When Peter managed to look up from the paper-wrapped item in his hand, he mouthed, What the fuck. Gamora gave him an incredibly unimpressed look, Drax following up with, "There are words there, Peter Quill. Do you require assistance in reading them? I am sure one of us here can decode whichever Terran language it is that it has been written in."

The four non-Terrans were especially unimpressed with the multitude of languages on Peter's home planet. Given that his own grasp of American English was rudimentary at best, he had decided it best to simply shrug when they demanded why there were so many. As it were, his reading was about average, and he pulled back the mystery present when it appeared as if Groot were attempting to take it into his own hands. Tendrils. Tree-parts.

"Whoa," Peter said, pressing the rectangular cube-thing (he was 98% sure he knew it what it was) to his chest, "I think I've got it, guys."

He held it in front of him, the words a bit blurry from how close he was holding the package, half-listening to Rocket's grumbles to Gamora. Something about a bomb, and for once she was agreeing with him.

"I'm going to read it," Peter announced, looking around to see that only Groot and Drax were still paying any attention. Gamora had once again commandeered the steering wheel, Rocket perched nearby so they could finish whatever snark-fest they were currently embroiled in.

"I, am Groot?" Groot said. Peter took a breath, and said, "Okay. Let's see what this bad boy is," before precariously unwrapping the letter from its little package.

It was a cassette. He spared it a glance, seeing the words "Awesome? Mix Vol. 3" carefully printed on its side. He turned his attention to the little letter. It was dated two days after they had left Terra. At least, Peter was pretty sure that's when it was. It began:

Peter Quill,

Um, hi! My name is Leni, and I'm a sophomore at NYU. I hope this doesn't offend you, but I saw the interview you had with the Avengers a few days ago, when you said you'd missed out on a lot of music. I don't know if you've gotten the chance to catch up yet (I mean, there's a lot? Plus, I'm sure you've got other jobs to get to and whatnot) but I thought that maybe you would appreciate this. I mean, I get if you don't, I like a lot of pop stuff and this might not be the kind of stuff you would normally listen to. Not that I really know that? I mean, I like it, but…

Anyway, I made a little mixtape for you! I hope you enjoy it.

Sincerely,

Magdalena Estrada

Ps. the track listing is on the back!

The handwriting tilted slightly to the right, and Peter was utterly charmed. Before he flipped over to the back to see what the songs were titled (not that it really mattered) he said, loudly enough so that Rocket and Gamora would be able to hear over their hopefully affectionate arguing, "I don't know who this Magdalena girl is, but I. Am utterly charmed."

Drax blinked at him. "I am Groot?" Groot said, hopefully, and Peter shrugged.

"I'm guessing you want me to play this," Peter said to him, and ignored Rocket's snort, "To which I say, yes."

Stalwartly ignoring the bemusement of his fellow Guardians, he sauntered over to the radio and popped the cassette in. It began with a solid drum beat, and Peter could already see Groot swaying with it. He turned the paper over. The handwriting, slightly less slanted, nonetheless carried a flavor of excitement as it listed what Peter assumed to be the girl's favorite songs.

1. I Gotta Feeling (Black Eyed Peas)

2. This Love (Maroon 5)

3. Smooth (Santana & Rob Thomas)

4. Girlfriend (Avril Lavigne)

5. Señorita (Justin Timberlake)

6. U Got it Bad (Usher)

7. Baby One More Time (Britney Spears)

8. I Like It (Enrique Iglesias)

9. Drops of Jupiter (Train)

10. Believe (Cher)

11. Someone Like You (Adele)

At the bottom of the list, almost as an afterthought, was a smiley face. And a heart. There are a lot more songs out there, but these are some of my favorites.

"Are you crying?" Rocket said, and Peter hastily wiped at his eyes.

"Shut up," he said, and turned back to the radio.

The next one came roughly a week after the first; by then, Peter had managed to send back a thank you, which did not have any smudged spots, and anyone who said differently was a liar, so fuck you, Rocket.

The package was a little crinkly, and the hand writing was carefully squared. There was what appeared to be a crayon picture of what Peter hazarded to guess was the Guardians and possibly a small child. He was going to assume that was who had sent the package. It was bulkier than the last, and when he (very carefully) pulled off the brown wrapping paper he found an actual box. The paper itself was plain, yes, but Peter remembered how much effort he would put into wrapping and decorating his mother's gifts. Before.

When he opened it he found a CD player. At least, according to the packaging. He couldn't remember seeing anyone on Terra with one, but this one looked far different than the ones he remembered seeing as a kid. He pried the little box open, and inside it was a folded up slip-envelope thing, which had an actual CD in it. It was labeled "Andy's Favorite Songs" in what he assumed was an adult's handwriting. He glanced at the note, ink having bled through the back. The letters looked blocked. Very straight, very thoughtful. Peter could feel himself smiling as he unfolded the letter.

Hello Mr. Star-Lord!

My name is Andy Donohue and I am 7 years old! My mommy works in downtown New York, and you helped save her life when you helped the Avangers fight all those robots and monsters! When I was watching the news with my mommy afterwards, we found out that you did not have any music from now. I asked my mommy if we could make you a CD to listen to, and she said that it was okay, but that you might not have anything to listen to it with. So I asked my daddy for a cd player for my birthday, and that is the one I sent to you! These are some of the songs that I like, and the ones that my mommy lets me listen to. Plaese enjoy them, and thank you very much for keeping my mommy safe!

Umbrella by Rihanna

Not Afraid by Eminem (this is a clean version becuase my mommy said the other one is not apropreate)

Run the Show by Kat Deluna

Up by Shania twain

All Star and I'm a believer by Smash mouth (from my favorite movie, Shrek! A lot of these songs are also from this movie)

Hey soul sister by Train

Accidently in love by Counting crows

Funky town by Lipps Inc

And I'm a believer by Weezer

Love, Andy Donohue!

Below it was the same handwriting from the label of the CD. Thank you, Peter Quill. Have a good one. Meghan Gilligan.

"You still getting fan mail?" Rocket said, and when Peter looked up (still smiling so hard it hurt a little bit), he saw him making repairs to one of the lighting lamps in what had become their little common area. "Nah," Peter said, even if Rocket rolled his eyes at the lie.

"….is this working?"

The voice was that of a woman, and when Groot tentatively said, "I am Groot" she laughed.

"Oh good," the disembodied voice said, "sweet. Hi Groot, it's Darcy Lewis from New York. I work with the Avengers?"

"I am Groot!" he said excitedly, before trotting off to find one of the others (who could, of course, speak with her).

Peter had been in the shower when the call came in, and by the time he got out and ready for conversation (plus, Darcy was his favorite), Gamora had pulled up the holoscreen and was happily chatting with the Terran girl, no doubt about upgrades that should be made to her taser.

"Darcy Lewis!" He exclaimed, grinning when it prompted the girl to roll her eyes at him. First and only Terran girl to let him grace her bed sheets. He thought he'd known it all; Darcy quickly showed him otherwise. Nevertheless, the two of them had hit it off well enough that things weren't awkward afterwards. She reminded him a little of Bereet. "How are you this fine day?" Peter said, and Gamora bumped their shoulders together as she made her way out.

"I'm great," Darcy drawled, the image of her face just barely fuzzy, "bye, Gamora!"

"Goodbye, Darcy Lewis," Gamora said, smiling over her shoulder as she ascended into the control room. Drax was adept at steering the ship, of course, but the green woman was even more controlling regarding the wellbeing of the Milano than Peter was. He figured it could be worse.

"How can I help you?" he said, turning his attention back to Darcy. Her workspace looked messy, papers everywhere.

"Hm," she said, "it depends. Any chance you can make a permanent home here on Earth?"

He snorted; "First, it's Terra. Second, hell no. Why would I do that?"

She rolled her eyes, "Okay, fine, a vacation home at least? I'm swamped with mail for you."

Peter blinked. "What do you mean?" he asked, and Darcy fixed him with a look.

"Have you not gotten your mail?"

Shrugging, he said, "I've gotten, two letters? Music, really. Why?"

Darcy made a noise in her throat. "You're not in the Asgardian system, are you?"

"Nope," Peter said, popping the 'p,' "not too fond of their regulations, in all honesty."

"And here I'd thought you were an honest man," she said, smirking, and he returned the expression.

"You offering to make me one?'

"Ugh," she said, and laughed. He was only slightly offended.

"Look," she said, back to business; Peter could admire that in a person. "You're getting hella mail. And, with you in and out of Asgardian territory, you can't exactly pick it up easy-peasy."

He cocked his head; "How much is it?" She sighed.

"Can you see my desk?"

"Yeah."

"That's all your stuff."

"…what." She huffed.

"Dude," she said, and half-turned in her seat. Behind her there were several piles of letters and packages. He had a feeling there were more music mixes in there, no doubt with better CD models than what little Andy had sent him. Smash Mouth, however, was rapidly becoming one of the crew's favorite bands.

"Shit," he said, and Darcy started laughing.

"That's why I'm calling," she said, "there has got to be a better way of getting this to you. It's not even just for you, you know. I think half of America has discovered a tree fetish. Would it be much of a hassle for you to, I don't know, stop by every once and a while?"

He was going to ignore the tree stuff. "I don't know?" he said, biting his lip, "Terra isn't exactly a hotspot of activity, you know? Between the regular jobs we do and Nova Corps' stuff it's kind of a tossup with where we go." She blinked at him, before pursing her mouth. She didn't look too eager to share her next piece of information.

"Tony said he could hook something up for you."

"Tony Stark is an asshole," he said automatically, immediately swearing under his breath when Darcy took on a look of amusement.

"That is…true," she conceded, "but he said something about radio waves? Possibly? I don't know, I think he wants to mesh your alien stuff with some of his Stark tech so that the letters that keep coming in can get to you guys."

A beat passes before Peter can admit that that is a much better plan than occasionally picking up the letters that make it through space. He says so out loud and Darcy guffaws.

"Okay," she said, but she's smiling, "you're going to need to come back to Ear—sorry, Terra for a li'l bit if that's alright. So Tony can, like, make this stuff."

"Ugh," Peter says, and he's grinning when they say goodbye to each other.

"He's an asshole."

"I know, Rocket!" Peter said, swinging around to glare at their resident bomb-maker. It takes him everything to not put both hands on his hips. Everything.

"Is there really so much mail that we must come up with a way to retrieve it?" Gamora asked, she and Drax looking around the landing pad at the top of the Avengers Tower. Last time they'd made the mistake of destroying a patio area, which Tony had bitched about for half of their stay.

"Hello," a voice said, and Groot perked up at the potential for socialization.

"Jesus," Peter said. Leaned up against the outer wall of the little…thing, one that leads from the inside of the building to the roof. There was a word for it, he's sure. But. "Hi. Uh. Peter Quill here."

There's a moment of silence. "Are you flirting?" Gamora said. The disgust in her tone would never get old; it was almost like a game at that point.

"Quiet," he hissed, and then turned his attention back to the little speaker, "uh. We're here for Stark?"

The machine sounded bored. "Mr. Stark has been informed of your arrival. He will be with you shortly."

"Are you fucking kidding me," Peter said, but it seemed as if the machine-voice-computer thing that Stark had running his household had gone. "What the fuck," he said to his team, who were either entertaining themselves (Gamora, Groot) or giving him incredibly judgmental looks (Drax, Rocket).

"Goddamn it," he said, and that's when the door slammed open, knocking him flat on his back.

"Other alien friends!" he heard Stark shout, "Welcome back. Where's your token human?"

He stole Darcy away once he saw that the rest of the Guardians had enough room/food/whatever necessities they'd decided were an absolute must that day. She'd been doing random intern stuff with Bruce Banner and Jane Foster apparently, but he figured they wouldn't miss her for an afternoon.

Or night, he amended, once he'd gotten a hand on her waist and another up her shirt. Swell kisser, he thought to himself, even as she pinned him to the side of the elevator. Great girl.

By the time he exited from her quarters (which, also, what the fuck. How big was this place, anyway?) it was past dinnertime, not that that would stop any of them from eating again. Darcy was in an oversized shirt and underwear, though he'd elected to pull on some sweatpants that she'd had Jarvis bring in for him.

Shirts were overrated. Of course, all eyes were on the two of them when they went out to the general living area in the tower. Stark looked far too smug.

"You two done?" he asked, eyebrows waggling. Darcy fixed him with a look almost as fierce as Gamora's.

"You're going to wipe the video," she said, and Peter was almost able to hold back a squawk. Almost.

"Darcy," Stark said, offended, and Peter was hopeful that the alleged video didn't even exist—"do you know how much you could sell that sextape for?"

"Tony," she said, exasperated, and the man pouted. Pouted.

"Fine," he said, and then turned back to the apparatus at hand, Rocket peering at it while the man made adjustments to it. Groot was watching Pocahontas with what looked like adoration, Drax carefully skimming through a book that sat in his lap. Next to him, Gamora going through her own pile.

"Hungry?" Darcy asked, drawing his attention back to her, and he said, "I'm going to marry you one day."

She snorted; "Alright, Star-kid."

They went through a decent chunk of letters after their impromptu feast on what Darcy said was, "Thai food, as in from Thailand, a country." Pineapples could apparently be spicy; Peter was not sure how he felt about that. The others had some letters too, and had taken their fair share before going their own way to read them alone. Unless they were talking about Rocket, because both he and Stark had decided that sleeping could wait while they tried to sync the radio transmitter with the technology already on the Milano.

Some were hilarious, some a bit embarrassing (for Peter, at least. He hadn't realized he had a fanbase), but almost all were filled with little anecdotes.

So there's a lot out there but if you ever need something to just relax to, I think Under the Milky Way is really good, along with a lot of stuff by Norah Jones

OKAY so I heard you have no idea who Beyonce is, which, what? Here are literally all her solo albums, I the last CD (unlabeled) is a mix of some of my fav Destiny's Child songs (which she was a part of) fuck it I'm just gonna write you her unofficial biography, OKAY

You need to be reintroduced into Rock, man, alternative and grunge has taken off like you wouldn't believe, Cage the Elephant, RHCP, Nirvana, Foo Fighters

System of a Down. Perfect moshing music. Keep volume on low to start out.

And, possibly Darcy's favorite: YOU MISSED THE WANNABE ERA WHAT THE FUCK.

One letter stuck out to him most. It was read to him by Darcy, who handed him a little CD with all the songs listed on a sheet of paper slipped into the container.

She read it out loud to him:

"Star-Lord,

"I wanted to thank you for helping protect Earth when the planet needed the most help. They've said that you're part human (and if this is incorrect or phrased the wrong way, I hope you'll forgive me), but regardless, it takes a lot to put yourself on the line for billions of people you don't know. They've also said that this wasn't the first time you'd done something like that, and I think that's amazing.

"My name is Penelope Blair, and I am sixteen years old. Not a lot is known about you, but when they talked about you being taken away from your family I knew there was at least one thing we had in common. My mom died when I was young, too, and my dad had never been in the picture. I've been living with my grandparents ever since, and with all of their medical issues, things aren't always easy. I mean, they're never really supposed to be, things are tough all over. It's just nice to think that maybe you and I would have been in the same boat, once upon a time.

"I think…I'm pretty sure I like boys. But I'm also pretty sure I like girls, too. And that's maybe more than you need to know, but given your switch from outlaw to hero (which, sorry, is kind of making the rounds in the news), I think the awkwardness of figuring yourself out is another thing we have in common. And sometimes, I just really need a pick-me-up. No matter what you've been through, or what anyone has done, really, I think everyone deserves something to make them a little happy.

"I hope you like these songs. They're probably my favorites, even if they're from a bunch of different genres and you might have already heard some of them. Is it true a ton of people are sending you music? Twenty something years really is a long time to miss out on.

"Thank you again for everything you've done,

Penelope."

His eyes stung. Darcy looked at him, a fond expression there that he wasn't used to in the slightest. "You alright?" she asked, and he nodded.

"Yeah. Yeah I'm good," he said, and looked over the track listings. Penelope had made little notes too, as to why she'd chosen a song.

Kings of Leon: Supersoaker—it's very happy, I guess. It comes off like a celebration of women to me, and I really like that.

Nicki Minaj: Pills and Potions—okay, so she gets dragged through the mud on the daily, but this song is so genuine. I really like it, even if it's kind of sad.

Disclosure: Latch—I'm a sucker for love songs (but I hear you are too?)

Green Day: American Idiot—you need to hear this, it's great.

Blink-182: Feeling This—okay so honestly I should have just made this all pop-punk, but if you get the chance (and you like this and Green Day) then I'd recommend going out and buying some 90's and 00's punk-rock/alternative stuff, it's a lot of fun.

"Jesus," he said for the second time that night, and Darcy put on the CD, though he only heard the lyrics, "This is the story of a girl, who cried a river and drowned the whole world…" before zoning out as he went through more letters than he could have imagined. He passed out after maybe an hour and a half of reading and switching out CDs, with Darcy telling him what she could about the songs and the bands that played them. When he woke up the next morning it was to her curled up against him, head pressed to his chest. One of his arms was around her waist.

He smiled.

From then on, all the letters and music that they received get sent through the little transmitter that Rocket and Stark had set up. It encodes the words and lyrics, transferring them into a little memory capsule that they can hook up to the actual radio onboard and play. Stark said that memory shouldn't be a problem, and that if it is he'll just send some stuff through Asgardian mailers. Peter hopes that's not the case, because he's pretty sure they've got some warrants out for him. Possibly Drax, too. Most likely Rocket and Gamora.

In the meantime, he reads over each and every letter that accompany the CDs and tapes and whatnot that people throughout the US (and even some other countries) send him, and almost every one ends up being someone's new favorite.