DAY 2 (25.4% complete):

Rocket tried coffee for the first time. He'd already realized that things tasted different as Gamora, sweets were less sweet and bitter was much stronger. And boy, was the dark liquid bitter. He spit it out in the sink and was kind of grateful caffeine normally made him sick.

Chocolate, on the other hand, was a welcome treat, something he'd tried once and regretted later in his own body years ago. Gamora huffed as he greedily shoved a piece in his mouth without consequence.

"Savor it, little man," Peter joked.

He did.

Tonight, when the two lay in bed, Gamora uncomfortably trying to wheedle her way into the crook of Rocket's arm for warmth, Niehter Rocket nor Gamora dreamed. But Gamora remembered.

Gamora, master assassin, talented seamstress (someone had to sew them back up after a mission gone awry, both their clothing and their bodies), and fairly decent spaceship pilot, had one major weakness.

She could not cook.

Normally, this would not be an issue. Under Thanos, meals were provided. On missions, she was given packed lunches or enough currency to feed herself. She was never shown a kitchen. Her only memories of one dated far back to childhood, and those were faded away to blurred shapes on a good day, but gone for now.

However, Peter had set up a rotational. Certain maintenance tasks on the ship were given only to some of the team; Rocket took care of the hyperdrive and septic systems, Drax cleaned and stored their weaponry, and Gamora did the aforementioned patching up. Peter was the primary liaison with the Nova Corps, and Groot's special task was… unique. He grew edible flowers, leaves and even fruit to supplement their diets. The first night, when Peter was halfway through a purple fruit Groot had sprouted for them, Rocket leaned in and whispered, "You're eating one of his ooooooovariiiiiiessss".

The choking sound could be heard around the ship.

"Oh, come on, has nobody taught you anything about plant biology?" Rocket said, stuffing his face with a similar piece, but a brighter shade of blue. "Unless you subsist on air and water like he does, you're eating somebody or something." Rocket swallowed the rest down, pit and all. "Or would you rather get, I'unno, scurvy or summat? He offered to us and it don't hurt him none."

"There is a joke about eating in here somewhere, but I am not going to say it," Peter finally said, holding the half eaten fruit in his hands. He turned it over a few times, before admitting defeat and resuming his snack. He looked up at Groot, sunning himself under an artificial light Rocket had rigged. "You really are the friggin' giving tree."

As long as the team didn't think about it too long, having the fresh herbs and vegetation was a welcome change in their diets.

A bowl of which and some meat from the cold storage were now looking up at her from the galley countertop. Gamora had no idea what to do. She would not have admitted it to anyone, and was secretly glad she got everything other than cooking first in her rotational- cleaning the head, disinfecting the ship, washing dishes. Everyone else loved the week they had to cook- not only did it mean they didn't have to do 'chores', they also were out of dish duty.

Each of the other four had already had their turn; it had already been a month onboard. Gamora was actually impressed. Each of them had a unique style, one that she used to actually understand her companions more. Peter made food that paired well with beer- smoked meat, breads and pastas, cheese dishes, salty but not distractingly so. Rocket, much to her surprise, cooked mostly vegetarian dishes with nuts, seeds, and root vegetables, occasionally with some dried fish on the side, with deep hearty flavor even though he used almost no meat. Groot's dishes were light, and always served over rice, with edible flowers and some sort of egg for protein, which he did not eat (the reason why Rocket cooked as he did making far more sense). And Drax made heavy, spicy stews, ones eaten by rolling slabs of spongy bread into the pot, separating the meat into a smaller bowl. He'd noticed Groot's eating habits as well.

But Gamora? She had no. Freaking. Idea. She knew the meat she'd picked needed to be put to flame, the vegetation was likely okay while raw, but what else? She knew she should probably spice the food, or cut it, or…

"Hey, Greenie, problem? You've been holding your knife over the meat like you're gonna assassinate it, not cook it." Rocket stood behind her, nose twitching.

'Great,' Gamora thought, 'he looks hungry.'

"I… I do not know how to cook," she finally said, a bit deflated. "I just pulled out things I'd seen before."

"Lesse here," Rocket said, pulling a stool over to stand at the counter. "A slab of yak shoulder, that'll take a day to stew. We can prep that now for tomorrow, but that's not going to be ready in time for dinner. Unless you have my teeth," he said, baring his canines. "S' way too tough unless it's been cooked a long time. Let's put that in the pressure cooker for a day, that's super easy."

Gamora pulled the pressure cooker from the latch, and set it up on the counter.

"Turn it to the lowest setting, let's heat it up," Rocket said. "Cube the meat, for us, wouldja, big hunks of it? I'm going to get stuff to make a roux."

Gamora took the slab of meat and deftly did as Rocket requested. It was cubed with neat precise measurements before Rocket even returned.

"Well shit, Gamora, you've got a promising career as a sous chef if this don't work out." Rocket let out a low whistle. He pulled down a pan and some oil, and while the pan heated to the temperature he wanted, Rocket pulled out something akin to a ski mask and pulled it over his head. "Nobody wants fur in their food," he said, as he tested the heat of the pain with a small amount of ghee he'd nabbed from the pantry.

"'Fore you stew anything, you want to sear it first. Tastes better," he grunted. "Spread a bit of oil down, please, then add the cubes. Don't let 'em touch in the pan."

Gamora did as she was told, and listened to the meat sizzle and hiss as it made contact with the hot surface. The mouthwatering smell was almost immediately overpowering. Rocket worked with her to sear the meat, make a roux, and transfer everything to the pressure cooker.

"Tomorrow mornin' just add some veggies you like. Stick to tougher stuff- tubers, mushrooms, roots, that sort of thing. Cube 'em up and stick 'em in, let it all cook on its own for eight hours or so. I'll help you season it tomorrow."

"What about tonight's dinner?"

Rocket looked down at the vegetables she had chosen. "Groot's probably gonna to be a better resource than me. I'll go grab 'im." Gamora looked horrified. "Don't worry, Greenie, I'll translate."

A few minutes later, Groot loped over to the galley, Rocket perched on his shoulder, still wearing the ridiculous mask.

"Grooo…" Groot hummed softly as he looked at what Gamora had picked out. He looked up at the clock hanging by the table, counting off on his fingers, and started his usual litany of 'I am Groot's.

"How does stuffed leaves sound?" Rocket said. His tone was different. Gamora thought Rocket was doing his best to keep Groot's original intent intact as much as possible.

"Stuffed… leaves?"

"Edible leaves, filled with minced meat, vegetables, and some form of carbohydrate. Rice and barley are common," Rocket enunciated much more clearly than usual, dropping the slurred together words that typically defined his own speech. "'S one of Groot's favorites, too," he said, and Gmora could see why Rocket did it, to try to distinguish his translation for Groot with his own voice.

Gamora wasn't too keen on the idea by itself, but if this was something Groot liked why not?

"I thought you didn't eat meat," Gamora said, addressing Groot directly.

"Cannot. Or at least, can eat only a little. My body does not process protein as yours do. We will make a few without meat in them and set them aside." Gamora was having trouble holding back a laugh hearing Rocket talk like this. Out of his mouth, it almost sounded stilted.

"Okay, how shall we begin?"

"Gamora, this is unfair," Peter said, an hour and a half later at dinner. "You should just be our cook."

"No, thank Rocket and Groot. They helped me make tonight's dinner and prepare tomorrow's. I mostly just cut things."

Peter gave her a warm smile. "And that's why we have you around, isn't it?"

"I guess it is."

"Tomorrow's already booked then, why don't I teach you mac 'n cheese for the day after?" Peter said, wagging his fork at Gamora.

"More cheese, man? You're going to make us all fat, Quill. I can barely fit into my jumpsuit," Rocket said, teasingly.

"You were also emaciated when we found you, friend Rocket," Drax said. "Your health has improved considerably since Xandar."

"Yeah, yeah, fatten me up before yas eat me. I knows how it is. Gamora, you're gonna need to make me sommat bigger soon."

"Keep teaching me and a fair trade it is."

"I would be happy to find some Zen Whoberi recipes for us to try, friend assassin," Drax added.

"I am Groot!" Groot added, sprouting a flower Gamora vaguely remembered from her childhood. It expanded, folded inwards on itself, and slowly bore fruit in the span of five minutes. As she watched it ripen right on Groot's arm, she let out a small gasp. It was a harkwa, growing right on Grot's limb. Groot looked down, nodded at his handiwork, and passed the fruit to Gamora.

Gamora understood why cooking wasn't a chore to anyone on the ship. It was… fun.