As the clerk handed the cloth based bag to him, Peter felt real childlike excitement for the first time in years. He welcomed the feeling with open arms as he grabbed at the tote greedily. Peter, the leader of the Guardians of the Galaxy, nodded along to the information the clerk was spewing at him, even though he was hardly aware of what the man was saying.

"Remember, this jacket has been fixed to the best of my abilities," The tailor said softly, "However, the leather is old and has been patched many times. It is very delicate and I suggest you be very careful if it frays."

Peter smiled charmingly and let the bag lay at his side, it's rough fabric wrapped around his fingers. Gamora, who was standing in the closest size shop with him, listened to what else the man had to say.

"I have fixed the um... bullet holes in the left shoulder, and had the fabric re-dyed to the red it originally was. Don't wash it for the next couple days, or else the dye will bleed out." The old tailor finished, pushing his circular glasses up his nose.

"I totally understand," The human said with his usual confident smirk, "I appreciate that you could fix this piece of shit coat on such short notice."

"Just doing my job, sir."

Starlord looked over at Gamora, "We done here?"

She nodded, before taking a pouch out of her tight black boots and laying it on the grease speckled counter.

"Your units."

"T-thank you."

Gamora opened the shop door, a little tune played overhead as they stepped outside; letting the door close behind them

The Afternoon market outside the shop was bustling with all sorts of species. With a flash of flames and a flick of a pan, the area was filled with the aroma of foreign goods and spices.

"Ey, Quill!"

Peter jumped at the sound of his name, causing the Terran to look around for its source in the dense crowd. He found it in his fellow Guardian Rocket, who was currently walking over with Groot.

"Hey guys," Quill said, gazing at the sights around him, "This place sure got busy fast, right Groot?"

He elbowed Groot's wooden side in a friendly manner, giving the teenager a friendly grin. Groot didn't even seem to notice Peter's attempt at a conversation, instead looking at a small gaming device in his hands. After a few moments of patiently waiting for a response, The Terran crossed his arms and looked at Rocket in frustration.

"I'm ninety-five percent sure he's an asshole because of you."

The smaller mammal rolled his eyes with a snort, adjusting the small bag that hung from his wrist. Peter hadn't even noticed it before; It looked alot like the one he had for carrying his repaired jacket. Rocket saw Peter's confused gaze, a smirk stretching across his muzzle.

"Hey Quill, check it out." He chuckled, gazing up at him. The raccoon buried his hands into the bag, before pulling out a greyish white jumpsuit. It looked similar to the orange one Rocket owned, but with purple metal plated armour on the legs and chest instead of black. Quill wasn't sure what the metal was, but it looked strong; the violet colour glistening beautifully in the sunlight. "Cool, right?"

Peter looked dumbfounded at the piece of clothing, and he brought his own bag, which contained his old rugged red coat, closer to his thigh.

"I thought you said you weren't going to buy anything, Rocket." Gamora said, a frown on her lips. Rocket placed a claw on one of the violet pads and grinned.

"Who said I bought it?" He slyly said, teasing them. Gamora scoffed while Peter put his hand on his hip. Groot, to nobodies suprise, didn't look like he cared.

"I thought we talked about stea- Actually, I don't care, screw it," The Terran groaned, "Where's Mantis and Drax?"

"Mantis ate something and projectiled vomited on someone. Drax took her back to the ship."

Peter sighed, pressing his calloused hands to his stubbly face in annoyance.

"Alright, whatever. Let's take the m-ship back to The Quadrant."

The rest of the team nodded, walking out of the market and to where they parked the ship. It wasn't The Milano; That beauty was currently still wrecked on Berhert. Much to the displeasure of the one and only Quill, they had been too busy the last few years to actually go back and fix the damn thing. Luckily however, since their Guardian duties have died down at bit, they were finally heading back to the small planet.

The ship they used now, until at least the Milano is fixed, is called Bentar. They used the ship to dock at smaller planets. The mother ship, named the Quadrant, was just over the size limit to access many of the planets in this system's docks.

When the ramp for the orange and blue vessel lowered, Peter could hear Mantis being sick already. The sound alone almost made him dry heave, but he pushed that temptation down.

"Yikes, she really is sick." The Terran frowned.

"Of course she is, why would I lie about something dumb like that?" Rocket huffed while throwing his bag beside the co-pilot chair. Peter followed suite and sat down in the pilot seat.

"Let's get back quickly, I believe the bowl Drax has given her is now full." Gamora said sternly.

Rocket nodded, his black nose twitching in disgust.

Peter pulled the ship out of their space, before quickly making their way off planet and back to the old Ravager ship. As the three of them were exiting the cockpit, they could hear Drax helping Mantis down the ramp. They carefully walked behind them, the smell of Mantis' sickness putrid.

"Flarkin hell." Rocket muttered, trying to cover his muzzle with his furry arm. Peter could only imagine how bad the smell must be for him; Quill couldn't deny how much stronger the Raccoon's nose was to his.

As they made their way up to the living quarters, Gamora sighed, looking down at her fellow Guardian, "Rocket, when will The Milano be ready to fly?"

"I say about a week, I'm planning on fixing the nav today, actually." He said, picking his canines with one of his dirty claws. She nodded, and sat down once they reached the Rec-room. Groot headed back to his room as usual, and Rocket followed him. Peter looked at the retreating pair, than back to Gamora. Opening his mouth to say something, she put up her hand to stop him.

"Put your jacket away before you do anything, Peter." She said.

"And why should I?" He asked teasingly.

Gamora looked up at him with a bored expression, "Don't you remember what the tailor said?"

Peter paused for a second, a frown on his face. Don't I have to… wash it? To get rid of the excess dye? Probably. Peter nodded to himself, waving goodbye to his crush, before turning into the Southern Hall. Gamora sighed, before taking out her sword. It wasn't going to clean itself.

Peter threw the newly repaired jacket into the washer, ignoring the purple glisten of something already in the machine. He switched the setting to high, added flower smelling detergent, and turned it on. He leaned against the metal box, letting our a relaxed sigh. The small room smelled like chemicals, which burnt his nostrils. Wrinkling his nose, he quickly stuffed the cloth bag in the garbage dispenser before leaving the room.

Strutting down the hallway with a smirk plastered on his face, Peter hadn't felt this happy since the Guardians saved the Galaxy; the first time that is.

You should've done something, Yondu died because of you-

Saking the intruding thoughts out of his mind, he groaned in frustration. Why do my thoughts always return to Yondou? Yes, I miss him, but I have to move on-

"Drax, I don't feel so good." A soft voice hiccupped, the sound emitting from the room to his left. He paused, recognizing Mantis' voice.

"Do not worry." A deep voice grumbled back. There's Drax.

The Terran poked his head into the room, and knocked on the slightly ajared door. Mantis was in fetal position at the foot of her cot, while Drax was rubbing her back. He looked uncomfortable sitting hunched beside her, but he didn't voice his concerns, much to Peter's suprise.

"Is everything alright in here?"

"She is getting better."

Peter nodded, drumming his fingers on the metal wall, "Cool, do you uh… need another bowl?"

Drax shaked his head; Mantis looked up and gave a small smile, her face paler than usual and her antenna droopy.

"Okay… I'm gonna go check out Rocket's progress on The Milano. If you need me, just call me up on the PA."

"Thank you, friend Peter."

Peter nodded with a soft smile, stepping out of the small room. He took a deep breath, collecting his thoughts, before continuing down the hall. He turned West at a four way intersection, noticing how this way was dimmer and dirtier than the rest.

On this floor, Going North takes you to the Rec-room and cockpit. East has the kitchen, Gamora, Kraglin, and Peter's room. South is the laundry, the guest rooms, Mantis and Drax's room, Finally, West takes you to the engine room, Groot's room, and Rocket's room. Their hallway smelt like Earth and motor oil.

Peter walked down the corridor silently, passing Groot's closed door. The teenager was blasting his awful music; the beats running through the human's head painfully. He held down the temptation to run in there and turn it off, and kept on walking.

When he finally reached Rocket's cabin, the Terran flipped the switch that opened the door, and walked in. The smallest Guardian's room was dark and musty, making the human squint. The wired floor was covered with mechanical parts, dirty jumpsuits, and pots of dirt.

"What'd you want?" Rocket murmured, hunched over a large circuit board on his stained cot. Peter leaned against the doorframe, his arms folded over his chest.

"Is that the nav for The Milano?"

"Part of it," He replied. They were silent for a few moments, other than Rocket's soft humming, before the mechanic clearly got annoyed of Peter staring at him. With a soft grunt, the raccoon turned to face Quill. "What is it? Why are you in here?"

Peter shrugged, picking at his nails, "Just wanted to check in on your progress."

The Raccoon snorted, "How helpful."

Peter rolled his eyes, "I never said I was trying to be."

"Well, that part is obvious." The mechanic snickered, examining the board more closely. The Terran huffed and drummed his fingers against the door frame. Rocket looked back up from the navigation system.

"If you wanna make yourself helpful, go get my new jumpsuit," He said, turning back to his work "I left it in the washer."

Peter eyes widened, and his fingers stopped tapping against the metal. It made the silence even louder.

"Y-your new, white, amazing jumpsuit? With the fancy purple metal? It was in the washer?"

Rocket nodded nonchalantly, "Yep."

Peter quickly ran his hand through his hair, biting his lip.

What did that clerk say again…

"I have fixed the… um, bullet holes in the shoulder and had the fabric re-dyed to the red it originally was. Don't wash it for the next couple days, or else the dye will bleed out."

Shit.

Ignoring what else Rocket had to say, Peter mumbled an excuse and ran out of the room. He raced down the hallway, ignoring the puking coming from Mantis' room; jumping into the laundry room. He pulled open the machine's door, yanking his jacket out of the wash, he noticed the red wasn't as bright.

Please, please please- Oh fuck no.

His shaking hand gripped Rocket's jumpsuit, and pulled it out gently.

It was bright pink.