somelitlemonster: To ryankrage77 on FF . net: I only have an account over on Archive of our Own. That's where you'll find this story along with my other material posted. Come find me on there and you'll find an abundance of Rocket bein' Rocket and Groot bein' Groot!
Took longer than I'd have liked. Turns out I was blowin' surgery outta proportion the first few times...
Finished writing this with Maroon 5 playin' in the background. Hard to not write 'sugar' more than I need to when that jam's on...
"I am Groot?" You did add the anesthetic for Gamora to your order, am I correct?
"Yes," I respond, annoyed. I've answered this question too many times for bein' in this room with Groot for only ten minutes. Worried, overprotective idiot… After me 'n' Gams agreed on givin' one another some repairs, our 'you scratch my back, I scratch yours' deal settled, we both headed to our respective rooms after biddin' one another good night.
Best. Night. Ever.
I mean, yeah, things looked really hairy there for a minute. Groot gettin' bullets stuck in his body, thinkin' I was just gonna let 'im go off and get sick again. Seriously, don't ever leave things like bullets in a flora colossus' body go untreated. Fungal infections are severe. Like, really really really severe. Scary shit.
Suit got torn up, got some Rayjack blood on it too. Nothin' that can't be fixed, though. Maybe I'll keep it in its current state. Think it's a lil more intimidating and more my style. Makes it look less stiff and formal and more battle ready and-
Wow, okay. Apparently I wanna run on a fashion runway, the way I'm talkin'.
Point is, Gamora really saved the night, I think, with that quick idea for food. Real good, too. And our conversation was… nice. Just stupid stuff. Dumb personal accounts of some of her more typical assassinations, some of my more humorous ordeals with the walkin' piece of kindling. Prison break #16 is always a good one. I mean, only I could file a random bone down to a fine, sharp point and bust out some old-fashioned locks on me 'n' Groot's cells. Plus the way I'd come to acquire that wasn't too… pretty.
So after leapin' outta Gamora's arms, I'd walked in on Groot sitting on my hardly used bed, fiddlin' with the tablet I now had in my hands, and began to add up me 'n' now Gamora's order of parts and the like. Groot's peering over my shoulder as I add everything up and
"I am Groot?" he asks from over my shoulder as he leans in closer, eyes squinting. What else do you require?
I pull the screen closer to my body to shield it from Groot's view. "What's it t'ya? Just stuff I need for some minor adjustments. Now Gams' materials too."
"I am Groot." How was the remainder of the night, by the way?
I grunt. "Ugh. Why ya askin', Nosey? So ya can go report to Quill 'r somethin'?" I'm not even bein' sarcastic about it. I genuinely feel like that's what Groot's gonna go off and do.
"I am Groot," Groot huffs. I do not mean to intrude, and I have no intention of going to Peter with anything you tell me, Rocket. I am merely interested in yours and Gamora's relationship. I am curious as to how your night out went.
"Relationship? It's-" I stop talkin'. I mean, is it a relationship? Maybe Groot doesn't mean it in such a condensed, romantic sense. I know him well enough and he didn't say it like some kinda ugly kid in grade school who knows his friend's crush. "Okay, but seriously, what the hell were ya doin'? Quill 'n' Drax had a reason, a damn stupid reason, but it's plausible… just short'a fuckin' dumb as hell, though. What's your explanation? Peer pressure?" I snicker as I twist my attention back to the tablet and review my materials one last time. "Lesse… oh wait. Thruster materials. Duh." I swipe left and scan over the page with my eyes quickly. Groot remains silent.
"Waitin' for an answer," I say with impatience and a wave of my hand.
"I… I am Groot?" If I said it was a mere coincidence, would you believe me?
"Yeah, and I'm the uncle of a talkin' ape named Skrunge," I mutter in fluent sarcasm. "That's a little too unbelievable, idiot. C'mon."
Groot goes to say something, shuts his mouth, and then starts up again. "I am… Groot?" I was both curious and… worried?
"Worried?" I scoff. "Yeah, okay, sure."
The plant nods. "I am Groot," he croons. I heard Quill's unusual theory on Gamora being a Skrull and dismissed it, but I did feel as if something was off. Groot shrugs and twiddles his wooden fingers. "I am Groot," he admits in defeat. Of course there was nothing to worry about aside from a few Rayjacks. And that seems to be the source of it. I was worried that something was going to turn sour for the both of you.
I blink. He sounds genuine about it, lookin' like he's scared that I'm about to lose it on him just for havin' the tiniest bit of stress over me and Gamora's night out. But… I'm kinda flattered that Groot does care a little. Course he should lay off a bit and just let things play out. Me 'n' Gamora can handle ourselves, but I really can't blame the guy for wantin' to make sure it all went good.
But just to be sure Groot ain't messin' with me, I ask, "Wait, ya didn't wanna… like, screw with us?"
Groot shakes his head sheepishly.
In some strange way, I'm shocked slightly by Groot's answer. Groot's my best friend, the type'a guy you'd expect to take any opportunity to embarrass me, throw me under a bus of frustration, and then some. He's pranked me now and then and I always get him back coz Groot d'ya know who you're messin' with?
So I'm, like, legit surprised.
"Really?"
Groot nods. "I am Grooooot." I just wanted to assure all went well. The last time you went out for any sort of recreational activity was… well, that terrible clubbing experience, technically. But it has been quite a time gap in terms of 'dates.' He's right. "I am Groot?" You have not been on a date in… a long while, correct?
I shrug reluctantly. "Well, yeah," I admit. "Few I did go on were all setups for bounties, remember? Don't know if those really counted…"
"I am Groot?" My ear flicks at the translation. The example he offers up was a particularly unique case in which instead of taggin' 'n' baggin' someone, we had a rescue mission. Amalya?
"Eh," I say dismissively. "Wasn't really a date. Just her showin' us gratitude for savin' her ass from bein' captive to some Skrull bastard. Didn't count. That fried lizard was damn good, though…" I recall, the thought of that far-gone lizard wettin' my taste buds quite a bit.
We're silent for a bit as I finalize the order, now with the addition of the parts needed for thruster repair, and it clocks out as a little over 20,000 units. No biggy since we're 'bout to hit the jackpot (or three times the jackpot) and be settled for a good long while.
I wire in the order a moment later, get a confirmation pop up, and rub my tired eyes. "All set," I announce to no one who really cares.
"I am Groot." That's good. Sleep now?
"Yeeeeep." I slip off the edge of the bed and go to change into suitable clothes for sleep.
I basically tear myself outta the ashy, blood-stained clothing faster than Groot can say three words before throwin' 'em lazily across the floor. Halfway through me pullin' the same orange shirt from the night before over my head (the rule of 'wear shit twice then wash it' is one of my many to live by), Groot asks, "I am Groot?" Was it as you had expected it to go? Dinner, I mean.
I think up a gazillion words at once to respond with (fantastic, perfect, amazing, the greatest, etc.) It's difficult to think up a way to describe it, so I just say with an awkward stutter, "Uh, it-it was good. Nice place we went to. Had good food. Alcohol didn't get me shitfaced with just one damn shot either. Only 20 proof. Never had anything like it…"
"I am Groot?" Groot asks with a strangely happy sigh and a smile stretched across his face. Was it as you'd expect a date to be?
"Wasn't a-well, yeah," I admit. I already settled it was a date in my head. Might as well make it official in spoken words. "I mean, I guess. Gamora 'nd me couldn't've have a better time, I think. Didn't feel… awkward or stupid or anything. It was good..." A moment later, I add, "...'sides gettin' ash in my fur and gettin' my suit torn up beforehand…"
Groot gives a throaty laugh and cocks his head slightly in observation. "I am Groot," he rumbles as his eyes flick to my feet to my head. You do need another bath, I believe. You look as if you've been dusted in some sort of seasoning to be eaten by Drax.
"I can handle cleaning myself," I immediately retort as I pull my second leg through its respective pant leg, "thank ya very much. And bad joke." In all honesty, the big oaf of Drax's first observation about me bein' that is funny, I think. Course no on really brings it up too much. Well, 'til just now anyways. "No need to reenact that vine event, man. Save that shit for our mission tomorrow, yeah?"
"I am Groot." If you insist.
"Seriously. Don't do it again. Weirdo."
Groot offers me his arm, an offer I gladly take, as he says, "I am Groot." In all seriousness, I am glad it went well for you both. And I really do hope you both have another chance to do something like this again.
"Thanks," I respond as I take my usual spot on Groot's upper arm, clutchin' on with my nails dug deep into his bark. "I 'ppreciate the sympathy. Just don't go stalkin' us anymore. I gotcha scent well, man. I'd know if any of ya were on our tails." Metaphorically speakin', of course, for Gamora. It's mostly physical in my sense.
There is a few minutes of silence before, just as I'm about to doze off, Groot speaks again. "I am Groot?" Do I smell nice?
I manage a scoff at his ridiculous question and sleepily say, "If it helps ya sleep at night, sure."
Somehow sleepin' is rough that night. Usually I cling onto Groot and get a comfortable position and eventually dose off and slobber all over his shoulder in a matter of minutes. That doesn't happen. Even after tryin' to sleep in the hammock at the end of the bed and the actual bed itself, tossin' and turnin' for another hour, I end up back on Groot's shoulder. I do clonk out at some point, but there's somethin' tuggin' at me, makin' me think I gotta have… somethin' else there? Somethin' vital to my sleepin' pattern?
Never had this happen before. It's like I need to be in a different setting entirely...
I wake up the next day to the sudden motion of Groot's arm swayin' with a jolt. I don't panic, but I do grip on a little tighter as to not tumble down the mountain of wood that is the flora colossus.
"Wha' the hell?" I grumble, eyes opened to mere slits.
"I am Groot," the tree responds, looking as if he'd just been awakened as well. Drax knocked on your door. Said the order for your parts came in.
Somehow the arrival of my tech feels like a signal to ready myself for the day. Although our mission isn't 'til tomorrow, I hate the days that precede the actual day of the mission. Constant preparation, last minute business matters, yada yada. Always a constant feelin' on the horizon that things aren't gonna be okay when we actually do go on the mission tomorrow and such.
Course they're almost always okay.
Almost.
"Did it really?" I say it like I don't believe 'im. "What time's it?"
"I am Groot." Eleven, I do believe, local-time.
"Early delivery." I relieve Groot's shoulder of my weight and arch my back in a dramatic stretch before we head out into the open to greet Losers Number One and Two and Gamora. But our trek to the galley, which emits a stench that I can only describe as irresistible, is stopped by a stack of two boxes, one at least a four feet in width and height, at the bottom of the stairs leadin' to the lower deck. The other is a smaller parcel, although rather long, resting atop the other box. I assume the big box is the thruster parts and the smaller one's the, uh… stuff for me.
"Slide that smaller box into our room," I tell Groot from over my shoulder, the massive box on the bottom already between his wooden arms. "Thruster parts, bigger one. Put that one down in storage for now. Have ya bring it up when we need it."
Groot proceeds to do so and I head into the galley. This time, Quill's stirrin' in the pans and Drax and Gams are both seated at the table.
"-told Quill that he should very well cut down on the fattening foods," are the words I walk in on Drax sayin'. "I have carried him many times when in times of desperation, and he-"
"Okay, okay!" Quill says with an exasperated noise I can only describe as the bastardized brainchild of an 'ugh' and a 'eeeeeeeeeeeh'. "For the twenty gazillionth time? Gravity? Yes, thank you?"
Gamora has no comment on the event but she looks to me as I stride into the room with a strangely bright-eyed look. "Sleep well?" she asks.
"Eh, guess so," I blatantly lie with a dismissive hand wave to the entire company of our ship. Course no one knows I had a shitty sleep, nor should they really suspect I did. Black circles under my eyes ain't a thing… well, I mean, kinda, but also not really. "When'd the stuff come?"
"Good morning, friend. And nine-thirty," Drax tells me. "I did not wish to wake you that early."
"Good," I tell him as I take up the free spot across from Gamora, "coz I had no intention of gettin' up that early anyways."
"Don't blame you," Peter remarks over the sound of frying eggs. "I don't like dealing with early morning you any more than I have to," he jokes.
"Nice purse," I say, referencing back to Quill's "totally-not-a-purse" knapsack that happens to be a purse, "did your dad get it for you?"
Quill just scoffs and laughs. We should probably get on findin' that dude, but I don't bring that up to anyone. "Anyways, joking aside, thruster parts came in. Are you planning on repairing them today er…?"
"Later," I tell him. "I, uh… I got stuff of my own to fix." I feel like I'm makin' the implication of me needin' some fixes to my personal body known well. Shoutout to Drax for just, y'know, bein' the only one with a brain for once.
Gamora gives me a tight-lipped look that I think is somewhat piteous, so I drop the awkward conversation that's spiraled back to me somehow with, "Thrusters'll work fine. Just figured they could use a tune up." Groot strides in finally and plops down next to me lazily.
"I am Groot." Things are in their places.
I give him a thumbs up (Quill showed us that… we all don't get it but we find ourselves doin' it more 'n' more lately) as Quill continues our conversation. "Does a tune up mean," Peter turns away from stove, finally catching my eyes for the first time this morning, "replacing every last bit of internal wiring?"
"What can I say?" I say, pickin' out a bright green, plump fruit from the bowl that he slides in front of us with quick hands. I take a massive chunk out of it, chompin' my gums as I add, "Gotta be quality or it's not perfect like me."
Gamora snorts and rolls her eyes at that, but she's got a grin on her face. She knows it's all in good fun.
The morning seems to slip by in a matter of minutes, really. After breakfast, Quill made the five of us actually go over the report that none of us read. And by none of us, I only mean Drax, the Kissass, and Quill, the Kissass-ee, had read the d'ast thing. Took longer than I'd expected it to, really, and it was less than enjoyable hearin' Quill blabber on and on.
The entire time Quill talked, Gamora was givin' me a weird look. I pretended not to notice, and the one time we did make eye contact for a split second I gave another awkward attempt at a grin. She returned the gesture until Quill asked us to "stop givin' each other those dreamy eye looks, it's awkward."
Apparently just a glance toward someone ya went out with once means ya automatically are givin' 'em cheesy looks. Yeah, okay. Terran logic is shit on a platter, I think.
It's at least mid day or so when I finally decide to bring up our 'spa day' to Gamora. Honestly, I'm not thrilled about it. I really really really really really really really really really really really really really REALLY ain't too thrilled about the actual, uh… surgical part of it. Makes me sick to my stomach and just… I hate it.
This sorta thing happens now and then. Minor things are in need of replacements, especially after takin' a hit from a d'ast EMP like we did. Nothin' too bad, but I just know when things aren't right with my body. Rather hit the problem when it appears instead of just actin' like it's perfectly okay and havin' to suffer the consequences of all of even a minor issue later on. Hell, I could get my brain fried up if I don't treat even a slight technical issue with the enhancements trailin' up my spine immediately. I'm nervous as all hell, yes, but the thought of Gamora helpin' me out instead'a some frickin' doctor, of all the people, is a lil' calming.
Me 'n' doctors, uh… we don't get along too well.
I trudge outta my room with the box I'd asked Groot to place inside in two hands and trot off towards Gamora's room. Instead of findin' it sealed 'n' locked firmly shut, it's open. I poke my head into the doorway and catch sight of the green ex-assassin sittin' on her knees on the floor, seemingly searchin' for somethin' underneath of her bunk.
Maybe it's a medbag full of pills that she's totally gonna take without readin' the bottle.
I'm a fuckin' idiot.
I rap on the edge of the doorway a couple'a times. "Gams?"
Gamora turns her head to the sound of my voice. "I thought I'd be seeing you sooner than later." She rises to her feet, hands on her hips as she gives a huff of breath and looks around the room.
"Lookin' for somethin'?"
"Just the med bag you made into a creative display night too long ago."
"Oh," is all I say. "Well, I was gonna ask… uh, y'know… this?" I gesture to the box with my nose. "Figured we should get started as soon as possible." I hear a shakiness in my voice but I don't mention it to Gams.
Coz she picks up on that pretty damn well on her own. "Would you mind assisting me first?" Gamora asks-no it's more like an offer, I think. She knows we all got history here, but mine's a little, uh, hard to get by for me. So yeah, I'm delayin' the inevitable, but I just gotta set my nerves down a little. And workin' on whatever Gams needs me to work on might do it.
"Yes, affirmative, yeah, good, of course" I tell her as I stride into the room.
"So," I say, layin' out the box on its side and openin' it with my nails in one quick swipe, "got the topical stuff. I'm gonna assume I'm gonna be cuttin' through skin?"
"Yes, that would be part of this, Rocket," Gamora responds like that should'a been an obvious fact.
Fuck.
"Right, right. Ya got skin like me."
"A very difficult observation to make," Gamora snidely comments.
"Oh, shuddup."
I pull out the necessary materials for Gamora's side of the bargain (topical anesthetic-we both can use this, actually, for the numbin' part-along with rods, alloy connectors and other varying bits of circuitry) and lay 'em out in front of me. "This is for, uh… which part'a ya?"
"Forearm," Gamora informs me. "Since our accident with that Krylorian I've been experiencing side effects of what I believe is damaged servos and fried circuits."
Ohhhh. Servo probs. Get it. I quickly gather up my materials and struggle a bit tryin' to get onto the bed. "Ya don't mind us doin' it in here, do ya?"
"That, actually, was going to be my suggestion," she tells me. "So long as we don't make a mess, we can do it in here." In other words, she don't want no blood on her sheets or for me to tear 'em apart outta panic. Gamora takes a spot across from me on the bed and I notice the med bag I'd so desperately needed only nights ago at her side.
She reaches in and pulls out a scalpel a second later.
Yipe. Don't like the look of it in the light'a the room.
"You'll need this," she tells me as she holds the medical tool outward.
Well, this is kinda ironic, ain't it? Never had to cut someone open before like this. Course Gams ain't gonna bleed everywhere coz it's… Thanos did stuff to her even I don't understand. But nonetheless, I'm still gonna be cuttin' her arm open.
I take it carefully and I hate the way it feels in my hand. Cold, kinda familiar. It almost looks like it says, "Hey, wanna play?"
And I really don't wanna play anything like this.
I'm so lost in the disturbing form of the tool in my hand, so focused on the disturbingly familiar curve of the blade, the silver shine of it that I hardly notice that Gamora has already sprayed the anesthetic all about her arm.
"-cket?"
"Yeah, that's me, hi, uh, sorry." I basically just tripped over all'a my words like they were a flight'a stairs and I had no workin' legs. I look away from the scalpel in hand and meet Gamora's look of understanding.
"I-I can do it myself, if you'd like." I don't even give it a thought. I want this thing outta my hands right fuckin' now. I hand it to her in an instant and she immediately draws it closer to her arm to make the incision without even flinchin'.
"So, uh," I keep my gaze fixated on her face, although she ain't makin' eye contact, "good idea with dinner last night."
Even though she's cuttin' her arm open, Gamora does manage a slight smile. "It was, wasn't it?"
"Not quite the greasy stuff we wanted but, hey, whaddaya gonna do 'bout Rayjack fucks, eh?"
"Do what we do best," she tells me, her expression firmin' slightly as she finishes. "It's safe to look."
She just fuckin' knows I don't wanna see that shit. But since I know there ain't no blood or nothin', I do manage to-
Holy. Shit.
Now I've seen tech before that's fascinated me. Guns, bombs, ships, land vehicles, everything. But I've never, and I mean never, seen anythin' as fascinating and fantastic as the stuff beneath Gamora's skin.
I… I can't even describe it, honestly. Everything's so precise, clean, clickin' and makin' sounds that I'm pickin' up only coz I got the ears to hear that. A good metaphor, I think, for the tech in Gams is that it's… god damn, what the hell is-gah, never mind. Lost it.
"We gonna need to stitch you back up?"
Gamora shakes her head slowly. "Regenerative healing factor. So long as I hold this wound open, it won't seal itself shut. My regenerative cells have been heightened because…" She doesn't finish. There's no need to finish.
"Whoa. Don't take this the wrong way Gams, but Thanos sure turned ya into somethin' damn amazing." Course I mean this in a complementary way.
Somehow, that doesn't get my expected response. Shoulda known better, coz I don't like the stink eye Gamora gives me.
"See what I'm talking about?" Gams peels her skin away a bit with her free hand to reveal some crossed, frayed wires and darkened circuits that shouldn't be that dark'a color.
I give a quick nod up and down. "Yeah, I see it. Happened on the other arm too?" Gamora gives a huff of frustration and nods. "Well, that's definitely a problem," I say as I take up the replacement wirings in hand.
"Well, we're going to be fixing that issue right away, I'd presume?" Gamora challenges with a sly smile.
"Duh," I say. "Can have this done in no time flat. Anything else ya need fixed up specifically?"
Gamora shakes her head. "Aside from the same issue in the other arm, I don't believe there's anything else in need of your immediate attention."
"Alright. Hold still now, alright?"
Give me 'n' Gams half an hour and boom. Done and done. Wirings, circuits, and everything went from fried and frayed to shiny and fully functional. After reviewin' my work very quickly, Gams' arms almost immediately begin to heal over with I considered delayin' so I could explore her insides a little more, but I-
Okay, okay, laugh. Go ahead. Laugh at that.
-I knew we had other business to tend to. Business that involves her fulfillin' her half'a the bargain.
It's strange that her arms manage to heal over so quickly. I expected her weird as fuck healin' factor to kick in but I didn't know her skin would seal up like it hadn't ever been cut into and be left unscarred in less than ten minutes.
Gamora's fuckin' amazing. Holy shit.
"What'll I be doing for my half of our deal?" she asks, reaching out and doin' that thing where she messes up the fur on top'a my head.
Not gonna lie, I like that a lot. It's just… nice. Weirdly nice. "Just some stuff back here," I say, pointing over my shoulder. "Need t' have the, uh… see, it's complicated. Kinda gotta see it to understand."
Gamora nods. "Okay. Well, should we get started now?"
Fuck. I really don't wanna.
"Yeah. Let's do it now," I affirm.
After a minute or two of gettin' out the parts for me, gettin' towels in case we need 'em, and Gams closin' the door (bless her fuckin' soul, god dammit) outta courtesy of my personal privacy, I almost instantly undress myself. Unlike Gamora's surgery, which was mostly fluidless due to the extremely heavy nature of experimentation on her arm in particular, I may very well just bleed a tiny bit. Course the anesthetic should stop it to a degree while also numbin' me down, but we just wanna be safe.
Once I'm completely naked in front'a Gamora (still awkward, might I add, despite this just bein' a surgical procedure), I immediately lay on my stomach near the edge of the bed. Gamora's standin' at my side instead of sittin' coz it's a better vantage point for her to work from.
"What am I looking for?"
"See the biggest hunk'a metal stickin' out right-?" I reach a hand around and try to prod at it again, "-there? Just below that's some, uh…" I struggle for a moment to find my the right word. "See, it's a part'a my, uh, vertebrae I guess? Whatever it is, whatever… They…" Somehow I don't realize how short'a breath I sound or the fact that I'm legitimately runnin' on fumes as I talk until Gams interrupts me.
"Rocket," Gamora says easily. "Relax. Just, shall I have a look for myself?" She raises the anesthetic bottle slightly.
"I-I guess," I hesitate before I fold my arms back underneath my head. A sec later, four sprays from the bottle find their places on the designated area where that once-blank patch'a skin was overexposed to the entire galaxy. I flinch slightly at the cold, half-expectin' it but half-thinkin' it'd be more warm than anything.
"What's wrong?" Gams asks, soundin' like an overly concerned mother.
"Cold," I said. "J-Just be quick with the cuttin' part. Know it won't hurt but I don't like the feel of it," I tell her with a shaky breath.
"Right. Relax. Breathe, Rocket."
"Just… open me up below the cybernetics that're pokin' out, right? Tell ya from there what I need…"
This time when the scalpel goes in, I don't panic like I usually would. I know Gamora's the one doin' it, so I'm definitely gonna be okay. I keep a steady head, think 'bout stupid shit (those waffles from a couple'a days ago come to mind- they were so damn good), and just wait for Gams to ask about the particular piece I'm referrin' to rather vaguely.
"Bracers," I say. "That's the word."
"Bracers?" she asks. "For your… spine?"
"Yeah," I grunt at the sound of the scalpel and, uh… I just call it 'the Prodder' in my head, scrapin' against one another. "Had Groot help me do a scan'a me before our lil' night out. Saw that there were irregularities around that area, prob'bly from that Krylorian bastard."
"There's more than one, if I'm assuming correctly?"
I nod painfully. "Yeah. Just take those out and put in the replacements. Careful, though when screwin' 'em back in. Don't want no other damage done. Damn metal pieces keep my spine in this shape permanently."
"Honestly, it's somewhat fascinating," Gamora remarks, before adding quickly, "Not that what happened to you wasn't…"
I snicker. "Heh, don't sweat it, sugar. After all, I did just say what Thanos did t'ya was, y'know. I know it's fascinatin' since my kind don't exactly…" I stop for a moment. "...walk around on two legs."
Gamora snickers to herself for some reason.
"What's funny?"
"Nothing at all. Just that someone-" I think the implication that I'm this 'someone' is made clear by the strengthened tone in her voice, "-accessed documents on a certain Terran species."
Okay, yeah, so… I pick up on things 'round the ship. Heard that 'raccoon' word now and then and figured I should know instead of askin' myself every d'ast time the word accidentally slipped outta Quill's mouth, "What in fuck's name is a raccoon?"
"I, uh, didn't feel like delayin' the inevitable," I mumble. "Got curious. Heard that word around a lot and just… got curious. I-" The loud sound that I can only describe as an airy 'pop' comes. Somethin' pinches slightly in my back, near where my spine ends and my tail begins. I grip the sheets tightly, press my nose between 'em too. "Gah, shit."
"Did I-"
"Nah, ain't too bad," I say despite the scrunched up, pained look I can feel. "Puttin' the new ones in's usually a real pain." I turn my head as far as I can over my shoulder. "Ya-ya got one down, right?"
"Two left," she says with a reassuring nod.
"Good. Honestly, with all our small talk we're doin' I totally forgot you was workin' on me. Seriously, you're amazing at distractin' someone."
"I'll just take that as a compliment,"she remarks sweetly while pullin' out the rusted, damaged metal disc and beginnin' installation of the new one.
We're silent for the installation of the second titanium plate up until I grunt in pain again. My tail shoots upward, presumably since this one just got put in near my lower back, and I grip the sheets so tightly I'm shocked my nails don't tear holes into the bed's mattress.
"F-Fuck."
"Relax," Gamora muses. "Breathe in, breathe out. Nearly done now."
I nod into the sheet, breathin' in and out loudly through my mouth like a rabid animal pantin' like a nutcase. "Be quick 'bout it," I say. "I ain't bleedin', am I?"
"Shockingly, no," Gamora tells me. "That's a good thing, right?"
"Course it is."
Again, we remain silent as Gams pulls the old metal from off the final part of my spine, just near my mid-back. She works quickly, precisely, and carefully all the while hummin' some sorta song to herself. I pretend not to notice, but the little tune she's carryin' in a strangely nice hummin' sound is calming.
"Quick question."
"Fire away," I say."
"Is there a reason why you lied to everyone at breakfast earlier?"
Shit. Knew somethin' was up with that. "Well, didn't feel like sayin' I had a shitty sleep. Just…" I swallow nervously.
"Nightmares?"
"No, no, wasn't that," I tell her assuringly. If that were it, I would'a been screamin' like a fuckin' maniac. "Just couldn't find the right spot. Felt uncomfortable, like I was missin' somethin'."
"Oh."
"How'd ya know?"
"I-I heard commotion in your room last night is all. I was kept awake myself." That's all she says, that's all that's mentioned of me not havin' a normal sleep. An awkward cliffhanger where I feel like Gams has more information on her radar that she's keepin' from me for some reason.
One final clampin' to my spine later, Gams is immediately on the puttin' me back together bandwagon. "Luckily, the anesthetic can help seal your skin up quickly. Allow it five or so minutes and we can remove the stitches."
I inhale deeply, finally able to fully relax. "Thank. You. So. Frickin'. Much." I smile at her widely. "Desperately needed that."
"Glad to be of service. Thank you for the repairs to my arms," she tells me. "I'm grateful to have you as a friend."
Don't ask where the weird warm feelin' inside'a me comes from in that moment. I guess just hearin' those words is a lil' flusterin'. "Yeah? Well it was a damn fun time for me, I'd say." I obviously seem like I ain't flustered at all. "Glad it all worked out. Ya need anything else like that that I can help with after I'm sealed shut?"
She thinks for a moment. "Just one question," Gamora demands.
"Yeah?"
"Just one box of… necessary materials, one of that size, for the two of us," she gestures with a nod in the direction of the box, "cost us 14,000 units?"
I grin. "Well, can't say I didn't buy stuff for a gun and bombs to match. Just had 'em wrapped with the thruster components so Quill wouldn't ask no questions."
Gamora gives a laugh at that. "Of course. That should've been expected from you. Conniving, but smart."
"Hey," I say with a cocky snarkiness, "it's me. Whaddaya gonna expect from a trigger-happy gun-nut loser like myself?"
"Nothing less," Gamora says after doin' that thing to my head again, "than what your charming self typically does, Rocket." I laugh at that. "Should I prepare us drinks as you'd requested?"
"Oh, yeah yeah yeah," I say with a fast nod up and down.
Gamora smiles at the excitability in my actions. "I'm heading to the galley. Let the anesthetic work for another few minutes. It looks like it's nearly finished up. Also, after the drink, you said you'd like a massage, right?" I open my mouth to protest, but Gamora speaks first. "You scratch my back, I scratch yours." She strides out of the room smoothly as I wait for the next three minutes of healin' to pass by quickly.
And for whatever reason, that dumb, mushy gushy, cheesy warm feelin' is back in my chest.
"Too good t'me, god dammit."
somelittlemonster: Talkin' ape named Skrunge - Reference to another thing featurin' a fuzzy dude with guns. Minor, stupid comment from Rocket.
Amalya - Reference to Rocket Raccoon #1-4 by Skottie Young. Female character who leads a brigade of Rocket's exes to kill him. No intention of bringing her in since she was just a snatch and grab for Rocket and Groot in this story.
As for the surgery bit, I legit struggled sooooo hard with actually deciding what each of them were havin' work done on. Gamora's bit was easier to write buuuuuuuut Rocket's wasn't so simple. Problem is I wanted to do a ton of different things but his spine seemed like the best bet.
Heard from somewhere that James Gunn'd said the dickweeds at Halfworld 'broke his spine' and reconstructed it so he can walk upright. Figured there needed to be some sort of metal holdin' it upright. Annnnd that's where those parts come in.
Initially more surgical shit was gonna go down but I figured such heavy surgery isn't exactly probable before a mission like they're about to have.
Annnnnnnd now we wait in suspense for whatever's to come next!
