A/N: Merry Christmas! First of all I want to thank everyone who reviewed, followed and/or favorited this story. It really means a lot, and whenever I get a notification in my inbox, I can't control the stupid grin on my face :) To the guest reviews: Thank you, I am so glad you liked it!

As I was writing, this chapter got longer and longer without me realizing it. When I was nearing the end, it was over 3.3k words, which I felt was a bit too long. I took the (much difficult) decision to split it into two chapters (even this chapter is almost 2k words), so the next chapter will be a continuation of this. I hope you don't find this chapter too dull or boring. Without further ado, here's chapter 2 (hey, that rhymed).

(I've also realized that I love to use parentheses)

Chapter 2 - Murder On The Dance Floor

Fuckin' creep.

Peter had a seemingly permanent scowl on his face, sulking in a quiet corner of the club away from everybody else. The only ones who sought refuge here were couples who wanted some 'privacy', though they were putting on quite the live show for a willing audience. The fact that Peter also found himself here (alone too) was very unusual; he was often to be found on the dance floor, moving very suggestively against some hot chick. This night, however, he only had eyes for one particular lady.

Downing his drink in one go, he grimaced as the strong liquid burned it's way down his throat. As the numbness gradually subsided, he turned to look over at Gamora.

She was standing by the bar and idly sipping her drink, but not alone. Some creep was hovering over her like a hawk, trying to make small talk with a mostly uninterested Gamora. Peter hadn't even met the guy, and he already didn't like the look of him. Throughout his 34 years Peter had been to enough night clubs and bars to immediately identify creeps and douchebags praying on innocent women (not himself, of course), and right now, he had a good mind to go over to that creep himself and teach him a lesson he soon wouldn't forget.

Look at him, Peter thought as his frown deepened unconsciously. You think you're such a hero, don't you? Well I saved the friggin' galaxy, but not for bastards like you to walk around in it. You're spoiling the view and the atmosphere for everybody else, you dick.

He managed to hear snippets of whatever bullshit was coming out of the creep's mouth. He was talking about how many Nova Corps he had escaped and beaten up, probably thinking they were impressive achievements.

How'd you like an appointment with my good friends Nova Prime and Denarian Day, you son of a bitch.

Now he was boasting on about how many damsels in distress he had saved, and Peter narrowed his eyes. I wonder if your dick is as big as your mouth.

Peter's dark thoughts were interrupted by Rocket's booming laughter filling his ears, and he looked up to see the slightly inebriated raccoon stumbling his way over to him.

"Hey, Quill! Why the hell do you look like someone's taken a shit on your face? Lighten up, will 'ya?" he laughed loudly, smacking him hard on the back in a 'buddy gesture'. Peter was unimpressed.

"I could say the same about you, you jerk," he replied. "You've been shit-faced the minute we got into this damn club."

"Woah, who the hell rained on your parade?" Rocket punctuated his words with exaggerated hand gestures, probably thinking he was being very funny. Peter sighed and looked over to Gamora. Rocket followed his gaze, a devious smirk forming on his face when he saw the object of the man's desire. Although he was focusing his attention on Gamora, Peter noticed the look on the raccoon's face in the corner of his eye and immediately didn't like it.

"Oh," Rocket drew out the word way longer than he needed to. "Is Star-Lord getting a little jealous?"

"Shut up," Peter muttered as he twirled his empty glass on the table.

"Don't have the balls to ask her out yourself, lover-boy?"

Peter looked as if he could strangle the raccoon right then and there. "Rocket, I swear if you do not shut up, I am going to make an accessory out of you!"

Rocket could sometimes be overbearing and nosy, but he always knew when he was pushing it and when to back off. Now he only snickered, once again patting the sulking Peter on the back. "Don't worry, Quill. Gamora can hold her own."

"I know," he sighed.

"If that guy tries anything funny, Gamora won't take any of his shit. She can whoop his ass with two hands tied behind her back."

Of course, Peter was already aware of this, but that didn't stop him worrying in the slightest. He decided it was best to just agree to whatever the racoon was saying, so that he could at least be left to his sulking in peace and quiet.

"You're probably ri-" he started, but couldn't seem to finish his sentence.

Rocket noticed Peter suddenly stiffen. Just then Peter saw that the creep was leaning in even closer to Gamora, who took no particular notice of him. His beady eyes travelled down her face to her neck, then to her…

"I'm getting another drink," Peter announced as he stomped over to the bar, hands clenched tightly into fists. Rocket looked worried and was about to stop him, but decided it was best to leave it alone. An angry Terran on his tail was the last thing he needed. With a devious grin, he also decided that watching Peter teaching the creep a lesson would be good entertainment, as well as immensely satisfying.

At the bar, Peter signalled for another bottle of drink, his eyes never once leaving the creep as he kept watch over him. The way the guy's eyes were now shamelessly roving over her body, he might as well be touching her all over with his hands. If Peter decided to gouge out his eyes now, most of the people who witnessed this would probably assume the creep was innocent and Peter was the sinner. He just had to wait until the right moment came, and Peter knew it would, there was no mistaking the guy's intent.

Just give me one reason, asshole…

Meanwhile, Gamora was getting quite tired of the man's incessant talk. How he had not yet understood that she was simply not interested was beyond her, but now he was on the offensive, not even bothering to be subtle about ogling her. He was practically drooling at the mouth, and in her mind Gamora went through the number of bones in his body she could break.

"So, I was thinking," he leered at her, his deep, baritone voice vibrating in her ears, "it would be… quite a shame if a pretty thing such as yourself remained alone all night long…"

As he spoke, his arms had snaked around her waist. Gamora looked down at his sweaty hand with a scowl. Oh, he had crossed the line now… There was no way she was going to let that slip.

"… maybe I could help with that?" His breath reeked of alcohol. Gamora resisted the urge to gag, but didn't bother to hide the disgust evident on her face.

"I think I'll pass—"

In a matter of two seconds, she had taken a hold of his index, middle and ring finger, whirled around in the opposite direction and twisted his arm so that his hand was now in her steel grip in a very awkward position. He gave out a yelp of surprise, and his eyes widened in fear while hers dangerously narrowed, a devious smile on her face.

"—but thanks for the offer."

Gamora didn't waste another second as she bent his fingers backwards. The cracking of bones being bent unnaturally echoed throughout the room, and everyone went quite.

As the creep yelled out in agony, no one had noticed Peter sneaking up behind, bottle in hand and a murderous glint in his eye. Before Gamora could even react, he swung, the bottle shattering into a thousand tiny pieces as it hit the creep on the back of his head. The already teary-eyed and sniffling male turned around, no idea what was going on, only to be met by a fist in his face, courtesy of a very pissed of Terran. More bones shattered as the creep's nose was broken, and he was suddenly knocked out on the floor unconscious.

"Man, that felt good!" Peter exclaimed, vigorously shaking the hand that he had punched with. The force of the impact had made his hand swell up, but Peter could not be less bothered. If he had the choice between making the pain in his hand completely vanish and punching the creep again, he would choose the latter without a moment's hesitation.

Gamora's jaw had hit the floor, and before she could even register anything, a patron shouted "BAR FIGHT!" and punched the nearest bystander. This, of course, pissed of him and his friends, and all of them looked for someone they could beat up, leading to a domino effect of punching and accusations. Before anyone even knew it, a full blown bar fight had ensued, bottles, wallets and people soaring through the air. Rocket, of course being Rocket, joined in without hesitation. Drax was angered by the fact that no one was willing to take him on, and Peter was tackled by the creep's friends. Poor Groot was dragged in trying to defend his friends. The owner of the club ran around, desperately trying to calm down dozens of intoxicated, bloodthirsty patrons, who were destroying his precious decorations and pricey valuables worth lots of units.

Gamora had no choice but to join in, managing to barely break up the fight after a good while of running around and incapacitating the bloodthirsty patrons with broken bottles and the drunk ladies using their sharp heels for stabbing. Soon enough, there was hills of blue, yellow and pink aliens groaning in pain on the floor. The owner of the club was red-faced, steam practically coming out of his ears as before him stood the five known as the Guardians of the Galaxy. They awkwardly introduced themselves, and the owner looked like he was about to suffer from an aneurysm.

Needless to say, the Guardians were banned from that establishment. For the rest of their lives. On their way back to the Milano, Gamora was glaring daggers at her teammates, and Peter couldn't help but feel that he was the one who was bearing the brunt of her fury. If looks could kill, Peter would have been dead ten times over.

So much for being chivalrous, he thought with a sigh. He was not looking forward to the rest of the night, but at the same time he couldn't help but feel a bit proud at how strong and heroic he had been standing up for Gamora like that. Now that bastard would never have the pleasure of harassing women verbally with his fake tales of heroic deeds, and Peter considered that a big accomplishment. He allowed himself a small, proud smirk, deciding for himself that once Gamora's anger had cooled down, she would be thanking him for his great deed for the galaxy. He was sure of it...

A/N: I must admit, writing a jealous Peter is too fun. Chris Pratt has some amazingly funny expressions, and I had no problem picturing Quill's reactions to someone flirting with Gamora in my mind (kinda squinting his eyes, lips pouting, not looking pleased at all, etc). The next chapter won't take too long to post since I've already written most of it (a week at most), but in the meantime, I can reveal that it involves a pissed of doctor, a concerned nurse and a patient fearing for his life.