twelvepercentofaplan (formerly somelittlemonster): Username change coz I like twelvepercentofaplan more than somelittlemonster. Still me, just a different name. Sorry for any confusion.

This chapter had a different setup in my head at first but I just rolled with it as it was written. It takes place over the course of twelve days, so it kinda jumps between events a lot.

And it's mostly about the dilemma of naming children.

And lemme say this, I had the best time writing the last portion.

Okay, soooo…

I mean…

Like…

When-

Okay, I just-

How?

How, of every person of every species of every planet of every star system in this galaxy, did I, the lone raccoon modified in a lab and has nothin' else like me, turn out to be the father to three tiny fuzzballs that are in the same position as me? And they're all boys?

I'm either the luckiest guy alive (since there's a weird stereotype that every father only dreams'a havin' a boy for their kid) or cursed. I don't got the slightest idea about raisin' kids. Don't usually like 'em, if we're gonna have honesty hour here. Loud, annoying, ugly. But these things are just-

No, they ain't things. Didn't mean that. I meant raccoons. And more than frickin' raccoons, they're my kids.

I guess it's pretty obvious I got an attachment to 'em, even though I don't understand it a hundred percent myself. First I figured it was natural instinct but it's not a feelin' I'm gettin' that I gotta protect 'em. It's me knowin' I gotta do so. Barely a month old and these guys were already victim to recalibrated spines, containment tubes, and absolutely no social contact whatsoever. Now if that don't stir up some emotions in someone, the idea that these guys are legitimate babies that've been practically alone for their three weeks of life, they might very well be a heartless piece of shit.

And I ain't heartless, shockingly enough. Deep under all this brown fur, perky ears, and smart-mouthed commentary's a heart somewhere. And even though I was feelin' so many different things when I first saw 'em in those tubes-fear, awe, sadness, confusion-I knew I… we had to get 'em out. They deserve better, so much better. I went through so much worse than they did. And…

I couldn't leave 'em. I just couldn't leave my…

I can't be a monster 'bout it. I gotta be good to 'em. They're mine.

Course I feel bad for poor Gams. She was up every three hours helpin' these losers out the first two days or so. Helped 'em use the facilities, fed 'em, let 'em do that sucklin' thing. Not a single complaint once about it the next day, even though I slept like a rock the entire. D'ast. Time 'til morning. Night 3, Quill actually took up the job more than willingly since it was his turn to for watch 'til we hit Xandar, which was only a couple'a hours away at the time. We kept 'em in a makeshift pin of sorts that Quill'd constructed with Groot's old heat lamps attached to the side to give 'em the necessary warmth they need.

Of course after we'd turned in B'hark-who received a wonderful one-fingered gesture from me that Groot failed to imitate in a demeaning, rude way-to Nova that followin' day (day four of havin' 'em aboard), Quill and Drax went out and got somethin' more sizeable and home-y for 'em. Now and then they'll weakly pull 'emselves with their tiny hands that are so much like mine it hurts, venturin' away from their usual spot where they're all huddled together. But they usually still stay pressed together in this tiny, unmoving form when any'a us look at 'em. But now and then it even looks like they're latchin' onto one another and sniffin' each other's faces to make sure they're the same as before.

And that's pretty damn cute, okay? I know, weird comin' outta my mouth, but they're cute. Fight me.

And things just… they just kept gettin' more monumental as that day wore on. We didn't shoot off'a Xandar and into space yet, but we ain't on ground. We're lookin' for a place to stop for fuel and to restock on necessities 'sides parts. In other words, foods and such. And we're gonna have to find some kinda healthy alternative for the kids 'til they get some teeth and start eatin' solid food.

Quill's got that covered with Drax, both of whom are in the cockpit with Gams, tryin' to find a suitable place to park. I'm on the main floor attemptin' to make one'a those soon-to-be three plasma rifles I'd mentioned to Gamora. And Groot?

Groot's bein' a pest to-hey! Idiot! They was sleepin'!

"Groot, leave 'em be for thirty seconds. I know they're fuzzy and cute and ya wanna cuddle 'em and all that good stuff, but ya really can't be loomin' over 'em like that."

Groot frowns at me, gesturing toward the newly replaced pin in which they're all still probably clumped together in. "I am-" I'm simply ensuring they-

"Shhhh!" I command. "Just shuddup for a sec," I tell him in that whisper-yell-voice that no one really seems to be able to describe. I'm nervous, honestly, that Groot's a little too loud for 'em. Suppose their hearing's either super sensitive right about now or fine. I haven't had a change to read over the docs again since we picked 'em up. Still some serious risks we're takin', some stuff I'm very hesitant about, but I think we all kinda know what we're doin'. "Drax just helped me out with gettin' 'em fed 'nd incited and everything they need. They're prob'bly just gonna do what they usually do." I stride over toward the side of the pin that's low enough for me to actually see inside. And look at who's right, as usual?

There they are in a big, fluffy ball of raccoon.

"Sorry," I tell Groot, "'bout that. Never done this before, none'a us ever have."

"I am Groot." Understandable. They are your children after all, Rocket. It is your job to worry for their well being.

"Y-Yeah…" I say, folding my arms across the pin's edge, restin' my head on 'em to look in at my… sons. That's still a hard thing to swallow, honestly, even after three or so days. I know I'm responsible for 'em, but it's just plain nuts that I'm a dad. I worry 'bout 'em constantly, do anything I can to help 'em. Course I let Drax, Quill, and Gams especially (figure they gotta know who their 'mom' is) do the feedin' and all that. But even when I see 'em in the other guys' arms, I keep a close eye on 'em coz I don't want 'em gettin' hurt. No, I don't think Quill or Drax would do nuttin' to purposely bring harm to 'em. But it's a weird paranoia that's just recently popped up and I absolutely despise it. "Not gon' lie, I really don't know how I feel 'bout this parenting thing," I say, pullin' away and scratchin' the side of my snout as I look to Groot nervously. "I mean, look at me. I'm a frickin' ex-bounty hunter who's livin' on a ship with all you losers workin' jobs that either get us nearly killed or end up bein' setups."

"I am Groot?" he booms. I hear one of 'em shufflin' around, but I don't put any attention to it just yet. You do not think we are unfit to assist in raising your sons, do you?

"No, I don't mean that. I… ugh." I rub one'a my eyes furiously, takin' a whiff of air through my nose as I try to find the right spot to start. "Look, I don't mean that. 'S just that we got five people on here already. Where're these guys gonna, y'know, sleep and such when they get to be my size, huh? How are we-we supposed to provide for-"

Groot holds up a hand and gives me a stern look. "I am Groot," he rumbles. Firstly, I am a tree, by your definition. Raccoons love trees. I know this from personal experience and because trees tend to be common living spaces for your species. I also happen to be a tree that can extend and grow limbs at will. I am a fit place for them to sleep if need be.

I roll my eyes. "Everyone read those raccoon files, eh?"

"I am Groot." Secondly, we will adjust. These are people, infants, as Gamora had pointed out. They are not nuisances to any of us. In fact, Drax quite enjoys taking care of them when he does. I swallow hard as Groot turns his kneeling form to me, tilting his head and smiling like a doofus. "I am Groot," he says reassuringly while bein' as cheery as possible. I must say, I already do enjoy them quite a bit already. Three more of you on this ship is no less a burden than yours and Gamora's relationship. So it may take time, but we are all willing to make room for them.

I blink a couple times 'n' just stare at this idiot in front'a me in both disbelief and relief. If that's not one'a the nicest things Groot's said to me, I dunno what is.

"Wow. Sheesh. Got, uh, a thing in my eye." I turn back to the pin to finally give my attention to the little guy that started stirrin' earlier when Groot first started talkin'. "Don't look at me for a sec-"

And everything freezes up around me as we stare at each other for what seems like ten minutes.

In reality, it's been five seconds, and Middle One (that's what I've been refferin' 'em by for the time bein'-the spaces they usually lay in all together. Quill thinks it's impossible that I know which one's which, but the markings on their face are all just slightly different for me to know that they're always takin' up the same spot during their little 'raccoon-cuddle-fest' as Groot called it) doesn't stop there. He takes his tiny hands, grips the bottom of the pin in front of him, and pulls himself forward, all the while tryin' his somewhat squinty eyed head lookin' up at me.

His eyes are open.

"H-H-H-" I can't even "Holy shit" at this. I'm in shock. His eyes are frickin' open, lookin' straight at me like I'm-

"I am Groot?!" a certain obnoxious tree whispers right into my ear excitably. His eyes are open?! How long does this sort of thing usually take?

I think in my head 'three weeks' but I can't get the words out to Groot. This little guy's the first one to open his god-frickin'-damn eyes and I'm just… overwhelmed.

And it just gets better.

When he reaches the mesh wall of the thing, he sniffs it a couple'a times, lookin' somewhat agitated. I assume he's smellin' me, my stench, and don't like that there's somethin' blockin' him from gettin' ight up in my business. So I just keep starin' on and on, waitin' for this little guy to make a move and then…

He pulls himself up, dexterous hands grippin' the edges where my hands also rest and meets my gaze nearly nose-to-nose.

He keeps on sniffin' at my face and I just… I can't move. I'm shakin', my stomach flips over four times, and I feel like fallin' over since my knees are weak like twenty story buildings after the highest measured quake in the entire galaxy (happened on place called Felix, year 5-996. Course Felix is all beaches and trees so no one really got hurt.)

"G-G-Get Gams," I whisper, totally not havin' a crackin' in my voice or anything as I keep starin' at the first one to actually stand up normally.

Groot leaves the room in a matter of seconds, heading to the upper deck to retrieve her.

"H-Hey," I finally manage to talk after I've composed myself a bit. He backs his tiny head away at the sound'a my voice, seemingly confused by it, but doesn't look to be in fear. I take out a shaky finger and stroke the top of his head gently, and he immediately goes back to sniffin' at my snout.

"Yeah. 'S me. I'm dad."

Apparently me sayin' "Get Gams" translates as "Get everyone" in Groot's head. Coz now everyone's down on the main deck now, and the little guy's still awake, pullin' himself around the pin while his two brothers remain in their positions without Middle One to push 'em apart.

"I'd say we go out and celebrate with a drink to this little dude's rather 'eye-opening' achievement-"
Everyone in the room groans at Peter's terrible pun and the suggestion we go drink. No one wants to do that.

"Somehow I ain't too surprised you'd suggest that, Quill," I say over my shoulder. "Dumb drunk…"

"He did tell me I was insulting drunks everywhere, himself included in that pool of people, when I made our drinks after repairs," Gamora, who's at my side and lookin' in at 'em at my level, comments snidely.

"Hey. Joking. Heard of it?"

"I am Groot," Groot says as if he's agreeing.

I hold back a laugh just barely coz he actually'd said "We know it, but you are not funny."

"Groot agrees."

I keep my lips pressed shut and that's the end'a that.

"Have you put much thought into names yet, Rocket?" Drax asks, his shadow loomin' over me.

"Well, uh…" I look to Gamora, who raises her eyebrows in anticipation for my answer. "N-No," I admit, partially embarrassed. "Been so busy with keepin' 'em comfortable and cared for and all that good stuff that I haven't gotten 'round t' names yet."

Somehow, I'm relieved when Drax tells me, "Understandable, friend. But I would choose names soon, if I were you." Almost expected him to be like, "FRIEND, YOU MUST HAVE NAMES PICKED FOR THEM SOON, OTHER WISE YOU'RE THE WORST IN THE GALAXY, YADA YADA, BLAH BLAH BLAH."

But that's not very Drax-y of Drax, so I don't really get why I'd think he'd say somethin' like that to me.

"We could all vote on names we suggest-" Peter starts.

"No." I shoot down Quill before he can even suggest namin' 'em after another dumb Terran celebrity. Didja know the ship's named after some chick named Alyssa Milano? Yeah, our not-so-cozy lil' home's name comes from some humie actress. Fascinatingly original, Star-Lord.

"And why not?" Peter asks as if we should let him go ahead with his stupid as hell suggestion. "We could name 'em after the Three Stooges?"

That irritates me coz they ain't stooges.

"Because this ain't a game, Quill," I tell 'im, soundin' a little too harsh and serious about it. "These ain't pets or somethin'. These're my kids, man."

I think everyone's taken by surprise at my reaction. They prob'bly expected "Coz ya named our ship after a d'ast Earth chick" or "Coz you're a dumb ugly hairless loser." Hell, they'd prob'bly even expect me to say, "Ya don't even got a good name yourself, Star-Dork."

And Quill ain't even ticked. "Oh. Well, yeah, that makes sense I guess. Sorry man."

"You did give yourself your name, right?" Gams asks despite the very minor tension in the room.

I nod.

"And how'd that come about?"

I stop and actually think about it for a sec. Honestly, I don't know where the name "Rocket" came from. Figured I needed to be called somethin' 'sides 'Subject 89P13' if I was gonna be a not-really-law-abidin'-citizen, I know that. But just where did I decide I wanted to be up and called "Rocket" for the rest'a my life? Not from pickin' up a rocket launcher and thinkin' "I like it, it's got appeal"... not from mishearin' a word and thinkin' it was my name…

Well, fuck.

I really don't got a clue where my name came from.

"Just popped up one day, just like that," I explain with the snap of my finger before I give a shrug. "I-I really dunno, Gams. Drax, how d'ya name kids?" Now I'm stressed out. I don't got the slightest ideas as to what to call any of 'em. Can't call 'em "Middle, Left, and Right" for the rest'a their lives.

Groot gives a low rumble of a laugh at my cry for help and the tattooed brute grunts in amusement. "It will come to you naturally. No need for unnecessary pressure."

And that's all the advice I'm left with for this namin' thing from Drax, who gestures for Quill to follow him back to the cockpit.

I give a sigh and keep my eyes glued to the three frickin' balls of fuzz. "I'm drawin' blanks hard, Gams."

"Well, don't mull over it too much." Takin' two of her fingers, she scratches at a spot behind my right ear lightly. "None of us are baby naming experts. You'll think up names for them sooner than later."

I shrug halfheartedly.

"Would you like to stay in my quarters again tonight?" Gamora offers, rubbin' the top'a my head with the palm'a her hand.

I know it's an attempt to take my mind off'a these numbnuts in the pin. But I ain't offended.

I grin and nod up and down, finally meetin' her gaze as she takes the little guy out. Guess it's time to feed 'em and such. Perfect timin' to open up your eyes.

"Yeah. It'd be nice, sugar."

We have a mostly comfortable sleep that night 'til the weight on the bed suddenly shifts.

I open my eyes just slightly and catch Gams just finally settlin' back into bed.

"'Mora?"

"Hm?"

"Kids?" I grumble tiredly.

"Yes?"

"They good?"

"Yes."

"Good. You're fuggin' awesome."

And I clonk back out a sec later. But I swear Gamora laughs at my sleepy, slurred voice for whatever reason.

Two days go by (six days total with these guys now) and now there ain't just one pair'a eyes opened up. Now when ya look inside their pen, all three'a the little guys look around and stare at ya in awe almost. Happened shortly after the first one did it in the same day, and now they're all walkin' 'round a bit. Course they're kinda new to it, havin' been stuck up in tubes for such a long time. But with what they've been enhanced with it's makin' it easier for 'em, although they ain't quite on two feet like me yet.

And I still don't got no ideas for names for 'em.

Drax is currently in the midst of havin' one of 'em practically gummin' his finger like no tomorrow. The other two are at my feet, gettin' their daily cleanin' routine since they've already been fed by Drax. The third guy's already been fed and everything but he ain't lettin' up on Drax's enormous finger for even a second.

"Ya mind just givin' 'im to me?" I say, spittin' out some of the brown fuzz off my tongue. "Don't wanna do this any longer than I gotta."
Drax gives in a moment later, gently pryin' this cute lil' bastard off'a his finger and handin' him off to me.

I immediately get to work on him. Honestly, the cleanin' bit's not my favorite thing in the universe since I am gettin' fur on my tongue. No one likes hair in their mouth, whether it be their kid's or their own. But there's somethin' about doin' it that makes me feel good.

"I think the tradeoff worked out quite well," Drax tells me.

"Hm?" I look up for a split second, only to see that one'a them's makin' his way over to Drax.

"Smart of 'im, I think, to just bound on over to ya right after." I lean back down and add jokingly, "Den-mother."

Drax gives a throaty chuckle at that and lets my freshly cleaned son start with his second 'bout'a sucklin' on his thumb.

Four weeks and five days old now. We've had 'em aboard the Milano for twelve days total now, and they're all doin' so much better in such a short time. Walkin's a breeze. Surely if they've got similar structures like me they'll be up on two feet soon and I'm gonna have to teach 'em how to walk. And they've all gotten to the point where they all play with one another too. And for the first time today, I let Groot get a lil' closer to 'em, long as he remained mostly quiet. They seemed pretty pumped to see him. Smelled 'im, dug their tiny nails into his crevices and observed him like no tomorrow.

Raccoons do love trees. Heh. Ain't just me then.

And guess what?

I still don't got no names for 'em.

I've been thinkin' on it for days on end, when I'm feedin' 'em, cleanin' 'em, cuddlin' up to 'em and bein' an all around okay dad to 'em. But how in the fuck do I even get on the 'okay dad' chart when I don't even got names for 'em? I know who's oldest and who's youngest (the files we'd taken from that lab in Demura do come in handy after all) but that ain't of much help to my cause.

And tonight's another one'a those nights where me 'nd Gams were sharin' a bed. I was supposed to have watch tonight since we've got a course set for nowhere in particular, but Groot offered to fill my spot if I watched a crappy holo-film with 'im.

I was expectin' my night to be peaceful and nice with just me 'n' Gams. Course she's gonna occasionally check on the boys but I'll be okay.

That's not what happened.

Instead, after she'd fallen asleep, I found myself tossin' and turnin', thoughts flurryin' 'round my head like a d'ast tornado. It's not so much that I ain't used to layin' down in a bed with someone (it's real comfortable, really, when ya got someone else there with ya) coz I've fallen asleep real easy with her the two other times we did it.

But third time's a charm. Coz things happened tonight.

They need names, all of 'em. They're already walkin' on all fours and soon they'll be on their hind legs since they's got a skeleton like mine. It's just a matter'a time.

I don't know what time I got outta Gams' bed but I do know I sat in front'a their pin, cross-legged and deep in thought, for a good two hours or so.

I feel like an idiot for not havin' any good ideas for 'em. Hell, I came up with a wicked name for myself at the drop of a hat. This should be easy. But I can't think of anything that fits 'em, nothin' that I like enough to want to call my kids by for the rest'a our lives.

It's an agonizing two hours of occasional sighs, mumbles of "I'm an idiot" and serious brainstormin' of names that don't ever come to me. And then someone says my name and turns the light up to a medium settin' between too low and too bright.

"Rocket?"

I turn my head in the direction from which the voice comes, and am greeted by none other than Gamora. I manage a weak smile. "Yeah?"

"Why are you…?" She doesn't finish. Instead she approaches my side and looks down at the sleepin' raccoons. "Are they okay?"

"Perfect," I tell her.

"Were the crying?" I shake my head. "Have you fed them or…?"

"N-No. Was gonna in a-"

"No need to." She begins to head to the galley to retrieve their bottle and formula. "I-"

"Gams, wait." I grab her by the leg of her loose pants and tug gently. "I… I gotta question, 'fore ya go off and be the coolest mom in the universe."

"Yes?"

"I, uh…" I don't know how to say it like a question. So I just say, "Just don't got no names or nothin' and…"

"I am Groot." I thought I heard the two of you.

Apparently a certain tree's in on the conversation now too. Why the fuck's he up?

Gams sighs with minor exaggeration, and I can't tell if it's at Groot's sudden entrance or my comment on my nameless sons.

"Gams, I'm serious. I-I was layin' in bed with ya and-and just thinkin' that I don't got a single idea what to name 'em. Haven't come up with anything for 'em and it's been, what? Eleven, twelve days? And I can feel somethin' there when I think 'bout it, but I just… I-I-I can't get the words out to name 'em. And I just…" I look back through the mesh on the side at the tiny fuzzballs and give a sigh through my nose. "Feel like a d'ast idiot."

There's a moment of silence before Gamora takes a spot next to me and sits in a similar position as me. "You aren't an idiot. Well, not in the context you're referring to anyway," she teases.

It's funny but I don't laugh or anything.

"But you shouldn't stress over it, Rocket. It'll come. Give it-"

"Gams, I gave it time," I interrupt. "I hate t' interrupt ya, I really do, but don'tcha get it? I'm just-just real stressed over it. We're doin' our best but how-how d'we even know they're gonna be like me, that they're gonna be perfectly healthy and-'nd-all that? I don't even got a name for one of 'em. I-"

"Slow down," Gamora urges, pressin' a finger against the tip'a my snout. "Relax."

This is just like that first mornin' I woke up and was freakin' the hell out.

"O-Okay," I say, lookin' back at the raccoons-my frickin' sons-in a content silence for a couple'a minutes as they stir slightly. Great. They're wakin' up and everything. Not bad, of course. They need to piss and eat and all that good stuff.

Finally I ask, "Am I doin' good?"

Gamora is silent at first. But she pulls me closer into her side after wrappin' her arm around my shoulder. "I'd say that you're doing perfectly fine, Rocket. Don't worry about this naming dilemma." Takin' her free hand, she screws up the fur on my head before she starts to gently stroke from the top'a my head and down my neck.

"Honestly-"

Stroke.

"-their names may just-"

Stroke.

"-pop into your head like yours had all those years-"

And that's when it happens, very suddenly.

I tense up rather suddenly, gasp quietly to myself, and look to Gamora in shock.

She was right.

Coz their names did just pop into my head.

Gamora's givin' me a look of surprise as I suddenly jump to my feet. The coons are all lined up in a row, lookin' at me with curiosity, with their hands holdin' 'em all up, heads just barely pokin' over the edge'a the pin. All the way on the left, the smallest guy yawns widely and I just wanna scream (coz wow-that was fuckin' cute) while the other two just look around the room blankly.

And then-

I point my finger to Middle One to indicate who I'm talkin' 'bout. "Uno." My finger shakily moves to the right. "That's-That's Duo. Aaaand-" I turn to the tiny guy who just gave the most fuckin' adorable yawn ever, "-Trey."

Groot kneels down at my side, cocking his head slightly with a smile. "I am… Groot?" Uno, Duo, and... Trey?

At first I'm unsure, but I get over it in an instant. "Y-Yeah. That's-That's their names. I-I just… they're fittin', I think. Right?" I look to Gamora for assurance. My stomach feels sick for some reason, although it don't go no reason to, since Gamora's giving me a smile.

"Those are perfect, Rocket," she tells me.

"Y-Ya think so?" I ask. Is it gettin' stuffy in here or is it just me? My throat feels like it's closin' up and my eyes are gettin' kinda itchy.

Gams nods. "Very spontaneous, yes, but they're fitting names for all of them." I nod up and down, sniff a couple'a times as I look to my three raccoons, my tiny balls of fluff, my kids, my sons...

I'm lookin' at frickin' Uno, Duo, and Trey.

"I am Groot," Groot rumbles happily to me 'n' Gamora. Indeed they are. Fitting and perfect. Quite adorable faces, too. He reaches out a slender, wooden finger toward all three of them and Trey takes it up with his tiny hands and starts to sniff at it. The colossus smiles even wider somehow at that.

"Seems he has a liking toward you, Groot," Gamora comments, nudging me slightly to comment.

"Y-Yeah," I say, rubbin' my eyes furiously with the heels'a my palms. "Th-They frickin' better like Groot."

Groot chuckles. "I am Groot." At the sound of Groot's voice, Trey's ears flick upward. And this wouldn't be somethin' I really paid close attention to 'sides it bein' a kinda cute thing. Coz Uno does the same thing a sec later, and Duo too. Their gaze flicks straight toward Groot's dumb face, and they shuffle closer toward the tree, reachin' out with one hand, makin' grabby hands.

"I-I am Groot?" Groot asks while puttin' out two more fingers for the other guys to grab onto. Why are they doing that, Rocket? I don't understand.

"It's, uh-"

And then, all in unison-

"Ahmgroot?"

What.

"Ahmgroot?"

What.

"Ahmgroot?"

What.

I start shakin' again, reachin' out a hand to grip onto Gams' shoulder for support, clampin' my free hand over my snout. I can't talk, mostly thanks to the frickin' enormous lump the size of a frickin' blackfruit in my throat. But my thoughts are all over the place. Did that just happen? Did that really just happen?

"I am Groot?" Groot repeats curiously to the triplets after a moment of stunned silence.

"Ahmgroot?" They all say it again, this time lookin' to me with concern in their eyes if they're lookin' for approval, almost like they're sayin, "Yes, Dad? Is that right? I am Groot?"

I look at Gamora, vision blurrin' more and more with each passin' moment, recievin' a just as surprised look on her face in return. She opens her arms wide for me, and I immediately take the offer.

My kids are… talkin'.

Groot joined in a moment later, wrappin' his massive arms around me 'n' Gams in a big coccoon of Groot-ness as I buried my face into Gamora's chest. And I just... just fuckin'...

I just fuckin' cried my heart out.

But it wasn't outta sadness, outta fear, outta some sorta unstable emotion I was feelin'. It's just another thing that's lettin' me know that my boys, Uno, Duo, and Trey, are gonna be alright, that I saved 'em from becomin' more or less Halfworld's next being to tear up and make do with as they wish, that they're all gonna live and grow up with the biggest bunch'a idiots in the galaxy... and me and their cool as fuck mom.

And I just named 'em the way I'd named myself. Spontaneously and without any real in depth meaning to 'em.

And now they talk.

Their first fuckin' words were "I am Groot."

D'ya know how… frickin' important that is to me?

So yeah, I cried into Gamora's chest as she rubbed my back gently as Groot's warmth came over us. And I ain't ashamed to admit it.

Because in that moment, for the first time in many days, I felt like everything was alright.

twelvepercentofaplan: In Div's 'Nova, We Have A Problem' the triplets' first words were also "I am Groot" and I really liked that a lot. Reason number one for that's coz it's damn cute. Secondly, it just seemed right.

And now they got names.

Who knew naming tiny raccoons could be so agonizing?