"Oh, fuck me."
I stood in his doorway, staring at the overturned crate, the literal and metaphorical explosion that was his room, and rubbed my palm along my forehead.
I would be the first to admit that the stunt I'd pulled at breakfast was partially testing the waters- how would the others feel if I'd asked Rocket out? Or he? The reactions of surprise (Peter, Groot), calm acceptance (Drax), and high-caliber sarcasm (Rocket) told me what I needed to know. No-one was disgusted, at me or he, and he actually moved along with the ploy with an impressive degree of fluidity.
He actually did want to go out with me- alone. That was the surprise.
I figured he had some sort of cycle of heats (or, to be more precise, ruts, as he is male), because he got exceedingly testy and lewd around the time of my quarterly ovulation, and avoided my room as much as possible during menstruation (although I chalked that up originally to the smell of blood). Meanwhile, the rest of the stretches in-between, he didn't seem interested in anyone at all, male or female (or… tree? Non binary? Rocket does refer to Groot as 'he', but Groot grows fruit…).
I frowned a little, biting my lip. He was already startled enough and the last thing I needed (or he needed) was a heart attack and fleeing in terror to go claw on Peter's newest coat. Play the long game, then.
"That sounds… pleasant," I replied, tone neutral. "I haven't done anything recreational since we stopped on Xandar for that banquet. Even then, it was just a lot of free food."
"Ya… wanna fancier dinner then?" he asked, raising one soft white eyebrow, as he rolled wire between his claws.
Crisis averted.
"Gods no," I said, finally at ease, as I leaned into the doorway. "I do not like wearing formal attire. And if I want nice cooking, we have you and Drax on the ship." Rocket grinned, canines sharp and pointed, and he rolled the wires faster, twirling them in a braid in his claws. "I could actually go for some street food. Something greasy. Peter says we have a bodyguarding job on Demura that we are en route to, and it's during a street festival there."
"Festival?" His smile dropped. Crisis levels returned to high alert. With Rocket, I knew of certain things that set him off like… well like a rocket, but on occasion someone on the team found out something new about him, too. Odd things he liked (keeping a shallow bowl of water near the dash when it was his turn to pilot), hangups (he did bathe with water, but did not admit that he also groomed himself the way most small furred mammals do, and Gods help you if you walk in on him mid-cleaning), and certain glaring red buttons that you did not press so help you Odin (there is an unspoken agreement that if Rocket needs surgery, don't say anything to him, just administer the anesthetic and work quickly).
"We could always find a good shooting range," I offered, trying to diffuse the situation. "My skill in firearms could always use a brushing-up and the holosim you built, while excellent for practicing my aim, does noting to handle recoil on the gun or weather effects."
"Naw, that ain't it. Jus' never been to one before. But a shooting range sounds good, too… but, ah, we can do that on most places can't we?" He scratched behind his ear again, flicking both his claw and ear separately. Convergent evolution meant that most sentient species in the universe carry certain traits- bipedalism for free hands hands (and, by extension, tool use), forward-set eyes, ability to breathe air (though some were amphibious), and, interestingly, ears flush against the skull and a separate nose and mouth- to emote in an almost universal fashion. Even the blind in sentient species could smile, despite no knowledge thereof. But I'd noticed that Rocket's body language followed little of these conventions, and could tell over time that the few that did were forced- more for our benefit, and obviously done with conscious effort. Smiling, definitely was one of them- he was still not quite sure how to present it without it being something of a sneer or snarl, given his teeth and snout. His real marker for joy was in his tail- if it slowly curled and uncurled, and thumped on the floor as it did so, he was in his personal version of heaven. Flicking his ear, meanwhile, was embarrassment, and (fortunately, in his opinion) as he did not have the capability to blush, usually meant that anyone (that wasn't us) never knew. Rocket was a prideful creature, but he was also quite unsure of his work ever being good enough- I suppose being a creature born of science in the worst possible way may have messed heavily with his sense of self-worth- so when his prototypes were praised by Nova, and his ear flicked furiously while he was gloating, we all knew he was actually a tiny ball of embarrassment underneath the thick veneer of cocky pride.
Such as now.
But, at this moment, both his ear and tail were moving in overdrive, his emotions clearly written on his body if you did know how and where to look.
Embarrassed, but overjoyed.
"We'll be arriving in approximately twelve hours, Rocket. You aren't scheduled for shift so you should get some sleep. Work will not start until two days local upon landing, so we do have some time to adjust."
"Demura, huh?" he asked, as he realized his tail was still swishing like mad, trying to calm himself down- even put a paw behind him- to stop it.
I wanted to call him out on the display (saying noting of how… wonderfully cute the visual was), and decided in gentle teasing. "Quite a twitch you have developed Rocket," I said, mock worry in my voice as I stepped out of his room to rest. "I do not know, but were it me, I would have someone take a quick look at it… oh!" Groot lumbered up from the cargo hold, carrying… something in his arms wrapped in oilcloth, gently trying to nudge his way into their shared quarters. "Such as Groot here. Well, I take my leave for the evening," I added, as I turned heel, feeling my own face blushing, likely a deep shade of emerald.
Somehow my sleep hadn't been as good as the previous night. Even with Rocket's nails having dug into my skin. It was probably from not having taken the sleeping aid. It certainly couldn't have been attributed to Rocket's warmth.
My light-ball alarm awoke me six hours later, to relieve Drax from the cockpit, and I yawned, stretched, showered, and hurried up to the top deck. Drax greeted me with a friendly smile and a gruff warning.
"Next time, I ask hat you do not lie to me."
"I… I am sorry Drax," I replied, thinking back to breakfast. "Next time Rocket and I will…" Drax cut me off.
"We were worried about him and you. We left the club shortly after you did- after clearing the tab with the establishment and reclaiming our belongings from the luggage check. Be honest and let us know that you were merely returning for some time alone next time. When Groot saw the state of their room, he panicked. If Peter hadn't said that both of your handprints had unlocked the Milano, Groot may have frenzied."
"I… do apologize. I had probably gone to sleep just before you walked in, by the description of your timing." I blushed.
"I may have learned to calm my anger, but remember how protective Groot is of Rocket," he chided, before his features softened. "All I can say on the matter is leave us a note, as Peter suggested, and I do wish you both luck."
"Peter is a man of… widely varying… pelvic sorcery, but I am surprised to see you are not fazed by this," I responded, as I lowered the captain's seat slightly and checked the instrumentation and flight path.
"Are you both physically mature for your species?" he asked.
I blinked. Paused. "Yes…?"
"Are you both capable of consent?"
"Yes…"
"And are you both consenting to the terms you have agreed upon?"
"Yes?"
"Then who am I to interfere?" Drax questioned, as he cracked his back. "At our current trajectory, we should make planetfall in six hours. If I am not up, please wake me."
"Of course."
Drax descended below to his quarters, and I returned to the task at hand; I could vaguely hear the sounds of Rocket and Groot talking about something themselves, but the ship was too well built to make out their conversation, even then, I'd only understand half. I checked the instruments again, and, making sure no-on was looking, stretched out and put my feet on the dashboard.
I rapped quietly on Rocket and Groot's door about five hours later.
"We are going to make planetfall in an hour or so. Would you care to join me for a snack and a view of the landing?"
"Groot," came a gruff voice from the other side, and then the telltale click as the door slid open. Groot, now grown back to full size for some time now (although short limbs on occasion), did not sleep very much, if at all. He gave me a snort, and ran his tendril-like fingers through my hair with one hand, while cradling Rocket- all four sets of claws sunk deep into Groot's forearm, sound asleep- with the other. This time, Rocket was wearing clothes- a sleeveless orange shirt and another pair of black pants, with a small trickle of drool running down his face, matting and flattening the fur on the side of his head.
Groot was… petting me? Like he did to Rocket?
"We… are… Groot…" Groot rumbled, low and deep, as he scratched me behind the ear. It felt weirdly nice.
Rocket blinked an eye open, groggily wiping the saliva away with the back of his palm.
"Bwuh? We there?" he asked.
"I am Groot," Groot cooed, tiling his arm at and angle so Rocket could stretch and climb up on his shoulder. Rocket took in a quick sniff and jolted up proper.
"Warn a guy, greenie!" he yelped, shaking himself out and climbing to the top of Groot's shoulder as if his paws were aflame.
I smiled. "Come up when you're ready. I don't feel comfortable leaving the autopilot unattended too long this close to Demura airspace, especially if we are hailed for entry."
"Seriously," I heard him mumble. "Assassin or not, 's not fair. Not even dressed yet."
"I am Groot"
"Hey, hey, that's low, even for you, you pile 'a kindlin'."
Within the half hour, everyone was above deck, breakfast tray secured in lap (save Groot), seated and belted for entry. Cold vegetable sandwiches, drinks in vessels that Peter called 'sippy cups' to prevent liquid from flying throughout the cabin as grvity and pressure within were slowly reduced to adjust out bodies to local normal.
Local gravity was heavy enough that Peter would not be able to move without extraneous effort, but we figured that with Rocket's ability to lift objects far heavier than he with his augmentations, he would be fine, if a little winded. Drax, Groot, and I found no difficulty as we unbuckled from landing, collecting food wrappers and running final tethering checks. Peter frowned.
"Yeah, can't even lift myself out of the seat, guys."
"It is that bad for you?" Drax inquired. "We were aware you would be unable to participate on the mission, but the force is too strong to even move?"
"I'm turning artificial grav back on and staying in 'till we're done. Bill the extra fuel we waste to the client. Objections?"
"I am Groot."
"That seems the most prudent option, Quill."
I shook my head, and looked at Rocket, to my right. He was frozen still, eyes bugging out and barely breathing. I immediately turned the artificial gravity back on, and he inhaled.
"Rocket?" I asked worriedly.
"Well, shit. We're short two," Peter groaned. "You three sure you got this?" He reached over to Rocket and slowly worked circles on his back while checking for pulse and breath. Rocket swatted Peter's hand away from his wrist, but did not twist away from the other on his back.
"I'm… fine… shoulda… worn… my… flightsuit."
"Vertigo?" Peter asked.
"Blood… rushed… outta… head… to… feet…" He took a few more deep breaths. "I'll be fine. Just G shock from entry." I took a better look at Rocket. He was wearing stiff, sharp clothing, black with blue and silver trim, in Xandarian style. Not formal wear, but certainly not sleeping clothes or flight clothes. Was he trying to wear something… nice? The color did suit him well, and the silver contrasted well with his rusty-sliver fur. I will admit, I had done the same, a pair of slick black pants and a soft knit shirt that hung loosely off one shoulder.
He flexed his toes and glared hard at Groot. "Told ya it was a bad idea," he hissed under his breath as he stood up and stretched.
"I am Groot."
Rocket gave one last look at Groot and turned his head downwards, shaking.
"C'mon Gams, we're blowin' this popsicle stand."
Drax took in a breath, paused, and scrunched his face in contemplation. "I remember that one!" he bellowed, as I chased after Rocket, already heading to the hatch.
It was already dusk in the city in which we had landed, and paper lanterns signaling the start of the evening's festivities had been lit. Rocket was walking slower than usual, and quiet.
"Your clothes suit you well," I said, breaking the silence. "Are you sure the resident gravitational pull is not affecting you?"
"Is a little," he admitted. "But I can move. And I'm just s'pposed to snipe on the job so it's not gonna affect work."
"Yes, but we will be doing quite a bit of walking tonight. Would you… care for a boost?"
"Claws," he replied. "Jus' walk a little slower."
I peeled back the fabric from the shoulder sleeve that was not hanging loose, revealing a padded leather brace underneath. "You are not the only one dressed up for the evening," I replied, before offering my hand.
"Too good to me," he mumbled, before jumping up and scurrying to secure a spot, digging his claws in deep, knowing he wouldn't leave marks.
"What shall we do first?" I asked.
"First," he said, whispering into my ear. "We loose the three idiots tailin' us."
"…Three?"
"Peter's a lia… wait, he may not've lied. I smell the exhaust off his thruster packs, and I installed a scent packet in his helmet to be able to find it if it gets stolen offa him- less likely to be detected than a tech tracer, which he's got in it anyway. Well, liar or not, he's followin' us, and definitely tryin' to stay downwind. Groot and Drax are prowlin' pretty close too."
"We could try loosing them in one of the exhibit tents," I replied. "This might actually make for a nice little challenge."
"Then dinner. Already hungry, but Groot'll follow us there easy if we do that first."
"For a job well done, yes."
He grinned, bearing his canines, and I felt his tail thump happily against my back.
"Where would we be least likely to go?" I asked.
"Well, I saw a sign for sideshows, 'n I sure as hell ain't goin' that way. I don't think either of us want to end up on display tonight." He shuddered a bit, leaning his head into my own. I picked up my walking pace, now that he had settled comfortably, keeping an eye out for somewhere to duck and disappear from our nosy pursuit.
"Midway… let's stop there and play a few games."
"Thought we was tryin' ta loose them," Rocket responded.
"We do this and make them think that we don't know they're here," I replied.
"Make 'em complacentarians. Then duck off easy- good thinkin'. Oh, hey, a shootin' game. Twenty paces, 'head on your left." He gently pulled my head to look in the direction, and I briskly moved towards it.
"Two units a play," came a booming voice from the uniformed attendant. "Five shots, every target hit has a prize marker inside."
"Hit me up," Rocket said, fishing a unit strip from his coat pocket.
The attendant blinked for a moment. "Certainly," he boomed, then rang a bell loudly. People milling about turned to look. Playing a few games of skill would definitely lower the guard of the trio of morons following us, if such a racket was made every time we stopped to partake in a booth. Several orange-skinned lizard children looked on in awe, a few dragging their parents closer to watch the furry alien in a suit heft an air gun over his shoulder and test the aim.
"Gams, what am I tryin' to win ya?" he asked.
Most of the prizes were children's toys- dolls, streamers, noisemakers. I spied something in the orange bracket.
"There are kites. Try and get an orange target," I responded.
"Of course ya give me the hardest challenge," he joked, standing behind the line drawn on the platform. I watched- the orange targets were both the smallest and the fastest moving.
He hefted the air cannon, and loaded the first paint pellet. Splat. First hit, first try. A small round of cheers from the kids. "What next?"
I spied a small child watching and crouched down. "What would you like?" I asked, looking up at the child's parent for approval. The parent, holding a paper cone filled with sticky candy gently nudged their child.
"Snake," the young one squeaked out. "Plushy snake."
"Rocket, aim for red."
"I can't see red, numbnuts," he laughed over his shoulder. "Which ones?"
Right. Red colorblindness. "There are no brown targets."
"Next time say aim for brown," he joked, and pinged his second shot neatly.
"You're going to run me dry," the attendant joked.
"Don' worry. I only got three shots left. Next?"
"Can you get a doll for my sis?" one of the kids asked.
"Which one?"
"Orange."
"Are all the good ones orange?" Rocket asked, and shot two orange targets in quick succession, before loading the final pellet.
I stood behind him, placing a hand on his shoulder, and mussing the fur on the top of his head. "Go for broke."
"Always…"
BOOM.
We had no time to react as we felt the ground shake below us. Rocket dropped the gun and clung to me.
BOOM.
Another blast, and a stand thirty paces away exploded into flames. People screamed and scattered, Rocket curled flat against my stomach shaking before gaining composure, growling low.
"SOMEONE IS GONNA PAY FOR RUNIN' MY NIGHT!" Rocket bellowed into the ash- laden wind. "COME HERE AN' TALK TO MY FACE YA BASTAAAAAAARDS!"
I could not have agreed more.
