The first time the Milano hit the ground with a promise of not returning was into the Dark Aster and Peter was sure he was going to walk away from it—well, he won't be able to walk away from it at all.
(They all thought they wouldn't walk away from it at all.)
Parting from his precious ship took the promise of death with it, and if you asked Peter, losing his ship was only ever going to be okay if he himself wouldn't be making it either.
The second time it happened was after a peace congress on the D'Bari home planet, during an escort of Nova Prime's ship into warp space, coordinates constantly past a desolate, near-dead planet in the same system. The trip happened as it usually would—slow cruising speed, lagging behind the large star-shaped ship, Rocket's complaining nearly competing with Peter's yells at him to shut up and Gamora's amused huffs of laughter as she distractedly kept an eye on the ship as Drax was keeping up a one-sided conversation with Groot, who was crooning at him amusedly as he waved the tiny leaves he sprouted on his body in response to what he said.
It was, supposedly, a simple escort mission, one they'll easily dismiss and move on to the next ambassador to escort from the D'bari soil to the warp space coordinates. Lather, rinse, repeat.
But a pirate vessel flew in faster than any of them anticipated, the Milano jolting dangerously and the lights flickering violently and soon enough they were engaged in combat, Drax's laughter loud in his spot at the beam seat as Peter and Rocket wrestled with the Milano's controls as they weaved in and out between asteroids, dodging fire from one, two, three—four Rajak ships ("Rajak pirates!" Gamora had hissed like a curse, and Peter couldn't help but agree) on their tails.
"Someone's up on comms!" Rocket announced as Gamora worked quickly at the screen behind Drax's seat, hastily sending messages to the D'Bari host fleet behind them for a hasty retreat. "Pullin' it up on Peter's screen." He snickered, as Peter began to protest.
"Hey—" he began, ready to curse Rocket two ways to Sunday, when Irani Rael's stern face appeared on the screen. "Heeeey. Hi." Peter amended, grinning sheepishly at her, like a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar. "We're taking care of this Rajak problem, no worries. I think you're clear for warp jump."
"We are not at the warp space coordinates yet." she stated, and Rocket's eyes briefly flickered at Peter, giving away his worry. Groot, in his pot too large for anyone but Drax to carry comfortably, settled next to Rocket's seat, crooned worriedly and twined a branch around Rocket's wrist, pulling it down, tilting the Milano sharply to the side to just barely miss a shot fired at the by the pirates.
"Whoa, shit!" Peter had yelled as the ship tilted to the side violently, and Rocket laughed at him, easing his tension as he righted the ship once more, dismissing Drax's protest at his missed target, and pointedly ignoring Gamora's ice-cold glare at him as she pulled herself up from where she had fallen, thrown back from where she was standing at the screen when Groot made him tilt the ship suddenly.
"Star-Lord!" Rael spoke up, alarmed. "What is the status of your ship?"
"We're just dandy, ma'am," Peter replied, shooting her his signature cocksure grin. "And hey, the coordinates were, ah, a suggestion for warp jump distance. You'll be fine."
You fucking liar, his three other teammates wanted to tell him, but Nova Prime stared him down as he winked at her.
"I mean it. Hightail it out of here now so we have space to fight back instead of letting us get pummelled like this." Peter pressed. "Warp now, Nova Prime, and the Xandarian delegation will make it home in one piece."
Rael paused, glaring him down, before receding. "Have panic messages been sent?"
"The D'Bari fleet have held back the approaching delegations and have halted all outgoing launches." Gamora reported from where she stood, and the Xandarian woman nodded.
"Very well. The Nova Corps delegation will enter warp space." She halted for a moment, before continuing, "Stay safe, Guardians."
"Will do," Peter gave her a mock salute and killed the line before turning to his teammates. "So, d'you think their pilots will be good enough to not scratch that huge thing?"
"Want to bet ten credits on that?" Rocket snickered, and Peter smirked at him.
"Ten says there's one on the hull."
Rocket eyed the ship critically, before saying, "I'm putting down ten for one for the lateral spire wings."
"Top spire." Gamora spoke up.
"Are we all betting?" Drax asked, chuckling. "I shall bet ten credits for a scratch on the nose."
Peter grinned. "Let's make sure we get to Xandar first." He grit his teeth, and lurched the ship to the left violently to avoid colliding with an incoming Rajak ship.
At least, getting to Xandar was the plan.
The fight took them to the nearby planet, where while they took out three of the four ships, the last one proved stubborn and crafty on its wings, dodging skilfully nearly all their shots, and frustratingly, hitting the Milano dead-on, forcing Gamora to call out something Peter dreaded hearing.
"The shields are down!"
"Oh, fu—"
Another shot, and the Milano was nose-diving into thick flora.
The last thing Peter heard before he blacked out was Rocket screaming Groot's name.
"… Rrroooo."
Peter groaned, and slowly sat up, wincing as he felt his muscles and side protest as he straightened up as best he could, only to find his head come in contact with soft earth. He slowly opened his eyes to find he was somewhere pitch-black, damp and soft, and he realised he was underground, as the sound of water dripping filled his ears. Fear creeping into his senses Peter reached into his cloak, and—thank goodness he developed a habit of not dressing down immediately after a job done—pulled out a plasma light ball. He tiredly shook it to find he was half-lying down in a small pocket of air under earth, roots from the trees above him dangling from above him like thin strings, as littered here and there were metal panels and bent rods, some of them holding up the space for him to occupy. The ceiling was low and permitted him to only half-sit up, and, as far as he knew, his legs were trapped in mud, rendering them immovable unless someone dug him out. He made a move to try at least flexing every one of limbs, earning creaks of protest from his bones at every move. He winced, and felt for his side, where he could feel the twitch of wounded flesh, and the warmth of blood. He was injured, but it wasn't too serious, shit—
"Rrrroooo?" Peter jolted and he turned his head to see Groot's large pot sideways in the earth next to him, thankfully within arm's reach.
"Groot, oh God, I'm glad you're okay," Peter breathed, reaching out to right the Flora Colossus' pot next to him, hugging the clay close to himself like a warm body, sighing as he pushed wet hair out of the way of his eyes. "Shit, where's everyone else?" he cursed, shoving his hand into his jacket pocket—and wincing when he pulled out a mangled piece of technology. "… Great. No communicator." He looked up and around them, and belatedly realised that the pocket of air was all his space was—nothing more. He bit his lip and he punched up at the roof of earth above him, and his face fell when he realised the earth above him was solid and immovable. "We're stuck."
"Rrrroooooot." Groot sounded up next to Peter, scooting forward as best as he could, and Peter immediately shuffled the pot forward, closer to himself, and realised that Groot was reaching for a steady-dripping water trickle from above them.
"Ah, sorry, yeah," Peter replied without any word from Groot, and aligned the pot so the water caught in it. Groot crooned thankfully and swayed a little, aiming his leaves at the plasma ball Peter had. The Terran held it up, cocking his head questioningly and Groot nodded his head, the largest leaf—the one on his head—bobbing as he did so.
That put a smile on Peter's face as he put the ball down between them so Groot could access it better.
A moment of silence lapsed between them, before Peter gently rubbed one of Groot's leaves between his fingers.
"You've gotten so much bigger now." He spoke up, "Rocket can't carry you anymore. Hell, even I can't carry you anymore." He chuckled, as Groot bobbed approvingly, waving his leaves. "Rocket must be excited for you to get out of your pot."
"Rrrrooot." The Flora Colossus agreed, sprouting a surprisingly large violet flower from his shoulder and he plucked it off to hand it to Peter. The human smiled at him and took it from, inspecting it as he twirled the stem between his fingers.
"It's pretty," he truthfully replied, before tucking the flower behind his ear. "I think I've seen one of these before on Terra." He said, and his mind whispered thoughts of lost times with his mother and days spent with his fondly exasperated grandfather and realisation crept up on him like a gentle lap of water over his mind.
"Groot, buddy, we'll be stuck here for a while." He spoke up, and his companion turned to look at him. "… Possibly a long while."
Groot looked like he jolted, and he twined branches around Peter's wrist. He laughed depreciatingly, and leant back into the soft earth behind him like it was his bed back in the Milano. "Between you and me, I think you'll last longer down here. You have water and light… I think… I might run out of time down here." He looked down at Groot. "If you know what I mean."
Groot's branch squeezed his wrist sadly, and he laughed a little. "Sorry, I'm saying pretty scary stuff." He gently twined his fingers into Groot's leaves like he would with Gamora's hair during quiet downtimes, and sighed. "Rocket told me you're pretty much a child right now, and, uh, I don't think I'm being the best adult around you right now right?"
The sapling shook in his hold, and Peter could feel Groot's worry and childlike fear and he sighed.
"Sorry, buddy." He sighed, tangling his free hand in his hair.
Groot crooned sadly at Peter and grew another flower from his body. It was small this time, pink, and Peter recognised this one.
"Oh, hey, currant flower." He smiled a little. "You've been growing Terran flowers." He stroked the flower's petal with a gentle finger and sighed.
Groot nodded, and grew another one. It was white, with thin petals and a yellow middle and Peter's smile grew a little wider. "Asters. My mom liked asters."
Groot plucked the aster off himself and gave it to Peter again, and he chuckled sadly at him. "Thanks, buddy."
Groot nodded a little, before settling down again. Peter watched him bathe in the white light for a while, and before he realised it, he felt Groot shake him violently and he blinked slowly awake. "Oh, sorry, I think I fell as…" he began to say, but he fell silent when he saw Groot's worried expression, eyes wide with fear, and shaking leaves and branches, the currant flowers—now many spread on his back—half-wilted. "Shit, sorry for scaring you, Groot. I just fell asleep, that's all."
Peter felt a painful twinge in his gut, and he bit his lip as his hand shot up to press against his stomach. He hadn't eaten since yesterday lunch. Groot looked up at him, head cocked, and he smiled at him to dispel his worry.
"Yeah, uh. Hey, when I was your age—no, uh, when I was a kid, whenever I got scared or upset, I would listen to my Walkman until I calmed down." Peter felt for his Walkman on his person—and thank God, there it was, nestled in its damage-proof case. "But right now I don't think taking it out is a good idea to do. I can probably sing, but I don't know if that's any better off." He laughed a little.
Groot crooned at him softly, brushing a leaf against Peter's throat, and the human blinked at him.
"You want me to sing?"
Groot nodded, before slowly settling down a little, still visibly shaken, but clinging onto Peter's hand and fingers like a child. Peter chuckled a little at this, before he cleared his throat, adjusting himself so he was lying down more comfortably.
"I must have been through about a million girls," he began softly at first, but when he saw Groot bob appreciatively, he grinned a little, before continuing. "I'd love 'em then I'd leave 'em alone."
He sang as Groot swayed to the beat and melody, crooning his accompaniment as he did, more and more flowers blossoming on his back as Peter continued singing, the both of them calming down slowly as time went on.
Peter decided that no, Groot didn't know his ankle was probably twisted and he might have cracked one of his ribs.
In front of him, Groot looked visibly happier and he grinned back.
And also, Groot didn't need to know that it was highly possible that Peter would run out of blood before long.
"Have you found them yet?" Gamora nearly demanded, leaning over where Drax was digging and Rocket was scurrying around, her expression tight and her anger clear on her face. Behind them several yards away was the last of the pirate ships that had chased after them, shot down by Gamora herself using a gun she and Rocket hastily put together. The pilot, unfortunately, suffered a much worse fate.
Beside him Drax grunted disapprovingly. "I perhaps have not dug low enough." His mind briefly flickered to his own inadequacy and the expression of his wife as she died and something stabbed in his chest as Peter's eyes replaced hers in his mind and his fists clenched as he dug ever harder again. Never again, he wanted to say, never again would he lose anyone he loved in any way.
"Then try harder!" Gamora nearly yelled. She had learned a new dish from the Sagittarian delegate they had escorted earlier and she was not about to let only two other teammates try it when she made it. Something ugly was rising in her chest and burned in her eyes, something she hastily rubbed away at as she watched Drax and Rocket search for Peter and Groot fruitlessly.
"We're on it, Gamora, just wait," Rocket replied, snappy and tightly, as his hands twitched worriedly on his own, his snout and whiskers twitching as he tried to find a trace—any trace of Groot's or Peter's scent. The lack of either comforting leafy wood or warm leather added trickle by trickle of worry into his head, as tendrils of doubt began to worm their way into his heart, and, shit, what Rocket would give to have Peter's jacket with him right now.
In their tension and desperation, realisation dawned on them like a gentle lap of water their minds.
They loved Peter.
More than anything in the universe.
Groot shaking him awake once more told Peter he had fallen asleep in the middle of singing once more and he realised his body, once aching and twitching in pain, now felt oddly cool and… not pained anymore. For a moment's delirium Peter thought he was back on the Milano and this was all a bad dream, but he saw his plasma ball and Groot's worried expression towering over him, and he knew he wasn't.
He was probably going to die here.
"Hey, buddy." He weakly smiled at him, and Peter belatedly realised that his wound was still flowing and it was probably infected now with how long he had stayed in a singular position. "Sorry I fell asleep again."
Groot squeezed his wrist worriedly, and he smiled. "I'm f-fine," he stammered, and Groot straightened up in shock. "N-no, seriously, Groot—"
Groot ignored him, and with great care lifted Peter's side to reveal the still-bleeding wound. The Flora Colossus straightened up and looked panicked. "Heh, sorry, I just," Peter began to say, but Groot leant forward, tipping off his pot and spilling wet pot dirt over Peter's legs, landing on top of him to hug him sadly. "Groot, you're not supposed to be out of your pot—"
"Rrrrrroooooot." Groot's voice rumbled, unusually loud in the small space, and Peter's expression fell. "Rrrrrroooooooot." The sapling's voice sounded mournful, and Peter's eyes burned with tears.
"I'm sorry." he softly said, stroking Groot's back, ignoring the splinters in his skin as wood trembled under his hand. "I'm so sorry."
"Rrrroooooot. I…"
Peter blinked at him, past tears blurring rainbows in his eyes, and Groot lifted a branch to wipe it away.
"I am Groot." Groot said, and Peter's eyes widened.
"You can talk again." He breathed.
"I am Groot," Groot mournfully replied, squeezing Peter reassuringly. "I am Groot."
Peter laughed weakly, hugging him back, and sighed. "Amazing."
"I am Groot. Groot." Groot brushed a leaf against Peter's throat, and the human chuckled.
"You want me to sing?" he ventured again, and Groot nodded.
The human shook his head fondly, and began again. "Ooh, child, things are gonna get easier."
It was a little ironic singing the song that had saved the galaxy when he was near sure he was going to die, but at least Groot seemed happy.
"Ooh, child, things'll get brighter. Someday, yeah, we'll get it together and we'll get it all done." He thumbed at the currant flowers spread across Groot's back, as his voice wavered a little, cracking as he continued to sing. "Someday, when your head is much lighter."
"Grooot." Peter's eyes widened a little and something spilled down his cheek (water, water, it was water, Peter's mind denied) when he realised Groot was singing along.
A smile spread across his lips as he continued. "Someday, yeah, we'll walk in the rays of a beautiful sun. Someday, when the world is much brighter." His voice lowered and darkness started taking his mind again, lulling him into fatigued sleep.
"I am Groot!"
Peter let his eyes slipped closed.
Around him branches began to snake protectively, as above them the earth began to shake and dribble away, and sunlight poured in through a tiny hole and—
"Peter!" Drax's voice was yelling, and Peter was sure he had fallen asleep, nestled in a cocoon of wood as cold darkness took over him.
Someday, we'll walk in the rays of a beautiful sun.
Peter woke up in a soft, comfortable bed and thought, wow, how nice it was to be dead.
"I am Groot." He heard a soft croon and he turned his head to see Groot, larger than the last time he saw him, yet not big enough to be who he used to be, smiling at him—no longer in his pot. That made him tear up a little.
Peter realised then, that no, he was not dead.
The door hissed and he looked down at the edge of the room to see Gamora, Rocket and Drax hurrying in, Rhomann Dey at their heels, looking equally worried.
Something stung in his eyes.
Yes, definitely not dead.
He was, instead, very much alive, possibly in a hospital in Xandar, and, holy shit, he could see a repaired Milano parked right outside the window (and, judging from Dey's pleased expression at it, was probably his work) to totally rest his worries.
"Peter!" he heard his teammates call his name, and soon Peter was swarmed with three too-frustrated-worried teammates and a peaceful, amused Flora Colossus all grateful he was alive.
Beside him Groot hummed, pleased, and grew out a white tulip from his shoulder, tucking it behind Peter's ear as he talked with the rest of the team, tiredly apologising and thanking them all at the same time.
By the time the conversation died down, there were a bunch of several other white flowers arranged around Peter's head, Groot smiling at his handiwork, pleased, and Peter laughing, flustered, as Gamora gave a go at weaving her own flower wreath and pulling Drax into it. Rocket lay back on top of Peter, watching them learning from Groot while Peter made snide comments, but graciously accepted the flower crown Groot made as a demonstration when it was handed to him.
Watching an ex-assassin, a Destroyer and a raccoon fumble with flowers, Groot's smile widened and his eyes met Peter's, mirroring his own happy expression, and Groot was happy.
If he had flesh and blood, then Groot would say his chest hurt.
He fully admits he rather liked it.