This is my first Guardians of the Galaxy fic, so go easy on me!

Nightshift

The night shift onboard the Milano is a grueling time. None of the Guardians want to take this boring time slot, except for one.

Rocket sat in the main pilot seat, comfortably flying the ship through the quadrant and enjoying the silence. It wasn't that he didn't enjoy Quill's music, but he did need a break and this was it. He liked overseeing the ship for a few hours, as the nightshift was his time. Rarely did anyone bother him at this time, and if they did, it was usually quick and painless.

This time it wasn't quick or painless.

Rocket, like anyone, is prone to sleep-deprivation. He felt himself beginning to nod off, but he jerked himself awake, until he could no longer keep his eyes open.

Peter was sleeping soundly in his bunk, until he felt the sudden jostle of the ship to one side. He quickly made his way to the cockpit, ready to give Rocket a lecture about sudden movements during the night.

Another rock of the ship, made Peter lose his balance while walking towards the pilot area, which almost caused him to fall over the railing. After he recovered, he ran to see Rocket sleeping in one of the pilot chairs.

"Rocket, what are you…" Another jerk made Peter fall on top of Rocket.

"Ah! What the hell! Quill, get off of me!" Rocket pushed Peter's head off of his shoulder.

"Well, don't fall asleep while flying, and that won't happen!" Peter shouted as he pulled himself up.

"Fall asleep? I didn't … oh damn, I did." Rocket at the controls, and stabilized the ship.

"Rocket, what the hell?! You could've killed us all!" Peter shouted.

"It was just a few little bumps, everything's fine!" Rocket snarled.

"You stupid Racoon!" Peter shouted.

"For the last fucking time, I'm not a Racoon!" Rocket yelled.

"Yes you are! That's what you are!" Peter snapped.

"No I'm not, I'm me! I don't have a type! It's just…me." Rocket looked down, "I told you, when we first met, that there was no thing like me except me. Did you think, I was bragging?! I was stating a fucking fact. There is nothing like me except me."

"Rocket, what's that supposed to…" Peter began.

"I had a family, did I ever tell you that?! My parents died on Halfworld! They couldn't take the experiments. My brother was supposed to survive, but he was scrapped, because he was a late bloomer, and I was a fast learner. My entire family wiped out. I can't even remember my parents. I barely remember my brother. I'm the only one left Quill. Ain't no thing like me except me."

Rocket paused. Peter was surprised by his friend's sudden openness about a topic which Peter learned never to discuss with his three-foot teammate.

"Sorry to make it awkward Pete. I promise not to fall asleep at the wheel again." Rocket looked down at his hands.

"Rocket, I'm sorry, if you ever want to talk…" Pater began.

"What are you my therapist?"

"Well, no, but…"

"But, nothing. I just had something on my chest, and I decided to let it out. I don't need you to go all mental hospital on me. I'm fine." Rocket sat back down in the pilot seat.

"Okay, if you're sure." Peter turned.

"I'm sure Star-nerd." Rocket said as Peter began to walk away. "You know Pete. He didn't live long enough for me to give him a name, but if I had to now, I would name my brother Peter."

Peter looked back at Rocket, who was giving him one of his rare, genuine smiles. Peter gave it back.

"Now get the hell out of here before you get all snot-nosed loser." Rocket dismissed.

"Sure Rocket, whatever you say bro." Peter smiled.

Rocket looked down at his paws and snickered.

"Damn right whatever I say bro. Damn right." Rocket said under his breath, as he set a straight course to the Guardians' next job.

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