Peter's steps faltered to a halt on the sidewalk across the street from where he had spent the first 8 years of his life.

The house was exactly the same. He couldn't believe it, it felt like it must be a mirage. The neighborhood was almost unrecognizable, which made sense, it had been decades. Developments had come and gone, architectural styles had changed. The town itself had grown into a city.

But the house was just like he remembered, or as well as he could remember through the haze of the years. It looked like it had gotten a fresh coat of paint but it was still the same color. There was still a tire swing hanging from the tree in the yard, a porch swing next to the front door. Still a little sign hanging below the mailbox at the end of the walk, swaying in the summer breeze..

The sign that still read "Quill." They must have kept the house in the family after his mom died, keeping it the same in memory of her, he guessed. He wondered who ended up living there and his heart sank for a moment when he realized he could no longer remember the names of his cousins. Man, that would be awkward if he had any plans to reunite with them.

Being here was starting to make him feel uncomfortable, unsettled. Being here on Terra. The longer he was here the less he thought of it as "Earth". "Earth" had been a wonderful place where his mom had lived and smiled and sang along to the radio. Where his grandpa had played catch with him and taught him to ride a bike. His memories of Earth were pure and there was nothing of those memories on Terra.

Except that house. Suddenly Peter couldn't stand to look at it. He knew it would be empty of what had made it home once upon a time. It would be empty of the memories that made Earth home. The music on the radio would be different and his mother wouldn't be in the kitchen making gooey butter cookies. The house was just a reminder that Terra wasn't home. Whatever Quills now lived there, they weren't really his family anymore. His family was waiting for him on the ship and it was time to get back to them.

Before turning away from the early-childhood home of Peter Quill: Starlord, half-Celestial and full Guardian of the Galaxy, something in the side yard caught his eye.

And gave him an idea.

First, they were gonna need a lot more supplies.

The crew stared at Quill as he covered the table with an armload of supplies that were most certainly not disguises. Rocket, Groot, and Drax immediately began poking through the pile to investigate. Drax wondered if these were strange Terran weapons. Rocket wondered what he could salvage and modify into weapons. And Groot just wondered what might be fun.

Quill was wearing a shit-eating grin.

"Guys, we're going camping."

He'd said it as if it was some grand announcement. One that was met with unimpressed silence in response. He deflated just a little but soldiered on.

"C'mon, it will be fun!" he said.

"Friend Quill," inquired Drax with his usual bluntness "Why would we wish to sleep on the ground and expose ourselves to the elements? We have comfortable bunks on this ship. Are there no lodgings available on the surface?"

Through the following discussion (it wasn't an argument, okay? because it just wasn't) Peter realized the gulf between his experiences and those of his teammates. He had nice memories of going out to the lake with his grandfather, a tent, and a couple fishing poles. Camping was hot dogs cooked on sticks and chasing fireflies at dusk.

Camping meant something very different to his friends though. They had lived rough lives and camping out was what you did when you couldn't find a place safe or affordable enough to spend the night. Or when you had to lay low and hide out. Rarely was it comfortable. Never was it fun.

Well they didn't have to actually sleep outside if they didn't want to, Peter supposed. But some fresh air out in actual nature on a planet that was safe and warm and didn't contain a single being that would have a grudge against them. It would do them all good to spend some time on the dirt.

When had he become such a planetsider? Peter wondered. He loved space, loved piloting a ship through the stars. Loved visiting different planets and meeting weird new species. But after everything that had happened, he needed a break. Terra was actually a pretty good place to get it. No enemies to worry about, no fans to mob them. Who knows how long it would take a signal from Nova Corp to even catch up with them way out here. There was nothing to do except whatever the hell they wanted.

"Look, its gonna be great, i promise. There's this spot by the lake that my grandpa used to take me to. We'd go out on his boat and he'd teach me to fish. I bought a ton of food and other supplies, so we'll have anything we could want or need. We can go for a hike in the woods, we can swim in the lake, and we'll build a campfire because you guys have got to try s'mores, I'm telling you. Its the ultimate Terran delicacy."

Even if the team was inclined to argue further (which would have been futile, they knew nothing about this planet and had no alternatives), Peter's engaging and enthusiastic grin would have swayed them to follow his lead. It was nice to see him so excited given the weight of grief that still hung over him. Hell, he was probably the only one among them with a chance at making positive new memories on their homeworld. So they assented and it was decided.

The Guardians were going camping.