It was about one artificial solar cycle later when Peter made his move. Philly had lived with his antics for the better part of ten years and was fully expecting some petty retaliation. All in all, she had learned to go with the flow in exchange for Peter putting up with her in return. They were used to each other's habits, the rest of the team however was not.
When Peter was upset at something and could not immediately be gratified he would protest in his own special way.
…
Almost all of the team was sitting together around the kitchen table. Rocket had the pieces to some do-dad that he had taken apart laid out neatly in front of him. Drax was devouring a plate of food, mostly consisting of meat with some eggs. Between them, Gamora was scanning the latest copy of Galactic events on her data pad and sipping some tea that Groot and Philly had made. the two of them were enjoying their own teas, out of a bucket and a mug, respectfully.
Gamora occasionally read a headline or bit of news out loud and the others commented. Philly and Rocket kept up a mild stream of conversation as they made an inventory of needed parts for the ship. Quill's footsteps sounded from down the hall to join them. It was a rare pleasant gathering, Gamora mused as she took a sip of her tea.
A second later she promptly spat it out. Rocket started to complain but stopped short when he followed her gaze.
There in the doorway stood Peter holding his walkman. He wore his headphones around his neck and absolutely nothing else.
None of the team knew quite how to react to Peter standing there naked, except for Philly who looked to the ceiling and groaned. "Not the clothing strike."
"Good morning everybody!" Peter greeted.
Rocket rolled his eyes, Gamora averted hers and refocused on her newspaper.
Drax and Groot looked to Philly for what to do. She shook her head and shrugged helplessly, "you see what I put up with. Peter, put your clothes on."
The Terran grinned shamelessly. "No, I don't think I will."
"What is the meaning of this?" Drax asked.
"This is the clothing strike." Philly told them, "It's where Peter pouts like the little baby he is and refuses to put any clothes on until he gets what he wants."
"Out fearless leader, ladies and gentle beings." Rocket snarked, starting to put the device he'd been working on back together.
"It means," Peter corrected, "I think you're wrong and I'm going to do this to show how unfair I think it is."
"For how long?" Drax asked.
Peter gave each of them a bright smile, "for as long as it takes for you guys to start being reasonable."
"We're not giving into your childish temper tantrums, Peter." Philly told him in the most condescending voice she could muster.
"You'll get tired of this and give in eventually." The Terran assured. "What do you think, Gamora?"
The assassin had her eyes forced on her holo-paper, the green of her face seemed to be flushed a slightly darker shade than her normal color. Peter bit the inside of his cheek at her obvious ignoring so he wouldn't burst out laughing.
"Breath, Gamora. You'll get used to it." Philly told the taller woman then turned back to the Terran, "Peter. You can't hold out longer than we can, sooner or later you'll have to put clothes on."
"I will," He said. "when I go off the ship. And I can too go longer than you guys."
"No, you can't"
"Is that a challenge?" Peter grinned raising an eyebrow.
Philly put a hand on her hip, "a one-sided, unwinnable, stupid, petty challenge where you're in the wrong."
"I accept."
Philly gave a frustrated scream and stomped out the door and up to the cockpit. Triumphantly, Peter took a seat between Gamora and Drax propping his feet up on the table and stretching out his bare legs. His arms were clasped behind his head and his exposed chest seem to puff out in self-satisfaction.
"How's my pelvic sorcery working now, Gamora?" Peter grinned at her and the woman continued to do everything in her power to ignore him. Peter laughed.
"You're not serious, are you?" Rocket put down the tool he'd been working on and looked Quill in the eye.
"Yes, I am," Peter answered. Then he sighed, "life is good."
At that moment the air moving through the ship's ventilation system shut off making everyone aware it had been on. The air system was responsible for internal heating when the Milano was in deep space or on an ice planet and could only be controlled from the cockpit.
"Touche." Peter yelled so he could be heard from the next level up in the ship, "but I'm tougher than to let a little lack of heat stop me!"
Philly didn't answer nor did the heat turn back on. Rocket finished putting the device back together and hopped off the table. He strolled out the door, motioning Groot to follow.
"You two, Drax." The bounty hunter said. The three left, leaving Gamora with a very undecent Peter.
He grinned and shifted around for a better view.
She left.
…
Philly gripped the throttle harder than she meant to. She had switched to manual for something to do with her frustration. There was a knock at the sealed hatch that led up to the cockpit.
"Who is it?" Philly called.
"Not Quill." Came Rocket's answer.
Philly flicked a switch and the hatch snapped open with a hiss of pressurized air and the faintest of whiling machreneary. Through the opening came Rocket and then Groot and Drax, each carrying one of Groot's sun lamps.
"I thought you might have left the cockpit out of the firing zone." Rocket commented on feeling the slightly warmer air.
"What's Peter doing?" Philly asked.
Rocket shrugged, "plotting his revenge."
"Yeah, he does that." Philly shook her head as the boys started to set up Groot's lamps in one unused corner of the room.
There was another knock on the hatch and Philly called over her shoulder, "Gamora?"
"Yes." The green-skinned woman answered. Philly let her in. "How long is this going to go on for?"
Philly hummed thoughtfully, "hard to say. As long as we don't change our minds he won't get what he wants, the question is how far Peter will go to defend his manhood."
There was a moment of thought then a collective groan.
"It's going to be a long ride to Notis." Rocket grumbled. Their destination was a middle-class planet in the galeet sector where Philly would be dropping off a cargo hold full of smuggled goods. It would probably be a BTAD (boring typical average deal), emphasis on the B. Particularly compared to Gamora and Drax's skill sets, which were a little more suited for more… violent work, Smuggler meet-ups historically were not as glamorous as the stories but it was as steady a job as their lifestyle allowed and no one complained when there were units put into the money pool.
"He'll give up." Philly assured.
Gamora looked skeptical, "who has… won the most of your… challenges over the years?"
Philly's face scrunched up in thought, "It's mostly even… a tie I'd say. Yes, a tie."
There was a collective groan.
"It's really nice to have more people for tiebreakers." Philly chattered on, "and not just me and Peter to argue and or stew in a stalemate."
"Stew?" Drax echoed with that confused, eyebrows crinkeled look he got when someone used a metaphor or a slang term.
"Um, like the way you cook a stew is you wait and let it cook on low for a long time," Philly explained, "so you sit in your feelings and hold on to them to stay mad for longer."
The destroyer nodded and stored that information away for the future.
"I am Groot." The tree man said in his deep, scratchy voice.
"Of course, we're doing the right thing," Rocket told him. "What else can we do besides letting Peter turn the ship into his personal playground?"
"How long will we need to be confined to the cockpit for warmth?" Drax inquired.
"About three days." Rocket said back.
"what?" Philly laughed, turning her head to look at the bounty hunter, "Nu-huh, Peter's tough. He'll last at least five days."
"That sounds like a bet, Blue." Rocket smirked at her. "Winner doesn't have to do kitchen duty for a week?"
"You're on," Philly grinned. "Anyone else want in?
"I am Groot."
Rocket translated for the rest of them, "Groot's in for four."
"I believe Peter is indeed tough," Drax told them, "So he will make it six days before putting his clothes back on."
Philly 'ooed' and turned to the last member of the team, "'Mora?"
The green-skinned woman's face was serious and unreadable. "You turned the heat off completely in the rest of the ship?"
"Yeah."
"Then I say he will make it a day before breaking down and begging for warmth." She leaned back in the second-row passenger's chair to try and sleep.
"That's ambitious." Philly nodded, "alright, so we're all agreed? Good. May the best being win."
…
Down in the lower level of the ship, Peter was indeed plotting his revenge. The air was starting to be very noticeable without heat and goosebumps were sprouting all over his bare skin. The Terran muttered to himself under his breath, barely audible but what could be heard were snips of death threats and what sounded like the ramblings of a crazy man.
He was in the small shower that was across the hall from the bathroom. The shower head was unscrewed and all the tiny pieces were laid out neatly on the floor. Peter grabbed a long, thin tube made of plastic from off his shoulder. It was normally used for engine purposes to put coolant into the tanks and stuff like that. With a mad laugh that was just quiet enough to not echo through the hall, Peter shoved the tube down the shower head until it wouldn't go any further.
Curse Philly and her absolute control from the cockpit, he thought, jamming a funnel onto the end of the tube. Peter hoisted a large jug of red die up and balanced it on his shoulder. It had been left over from making fake blood for a job that had gone oh so right in the pre-Xander times. Philly had probably forgotten they had this.
Very carefully so he wouldn't spill, Peter poured the entire contents of the half-empty gallon jug down the funnel and into the shower's holding tank. When he was satisfied Peter pulled up the tube and put the shower back together, wiping up any stray drops and disposing of the evidence. On his way down to the engine room, Peter whistled a merry tune, hoping Philly and co would admit defeat so this fight would end. And not only because he swore he could see his breath a few times on his way down to the engine room. At least down there, it would be warmer.
…
Far away from the stretch of deep space the Milano was flying through, in one of Xander's major cities, Malika, was a little antique shop. It was snuggled in between two much taller buildings and had a redbrick outside and green awnings. At the counter was an old human man with greying hair and the beginnings of wrinkles on his face.
Mac hummed to himself, using his index finger to scroll through the holo table that was floating in mid-air. It was set to larger print so the human could read it without his glasses and displayed the store's income and expenses for that month. The little bell jingled merrily from above the door as a customer entered.
A young man stood there and turned to one side of the shop to browse. He straightened a red tie with yellow dots that was neatly done around his neck. It was a bright contrast to his dark grey suit and shiny black shoes.
"Welcome. What can I do for you?" Mac looked up and gave the young man a smile.
"How long have you been standing there, old man?" the stranger asked.
Mac forced a retort back for the sake of appearances, "It's my store, so about five years." well he softened it anyway.
The stranger gave a short laugh that sounded almost hollow, "Ha." And went back to pursuing. He paused ever so often, head tilted to the side like he was listening to something.
Mac shot him a wary glance and went back to the income and expenses, keeping an eye on the man discreetly. After a moment Mac heard footsteps and looked up to find the man leaning over the counter.
"Actually I'm looking for something very specific." He said, leaning back and resting his elbows on the counter, "something you took that doesn't belong to you. Something you're going to give back."
He had twisted around and planted his hands on the counter, taking up a position in the service center. Mac swallowed down the sudden flight reflex at the realization he was trapped and instead fixed his eyes calmly forward, "is that so?"
The stranger hummed in confermation, "mmhhm. So where is it?"
"Bite me, kid." The old spacer growled, "You don't scare me and you're talking nonsense. You're wasting your time."
"You know the guy who gave me this," he gestured to his lips where a thin white scar ran down his face, from nose to chin. "He said the same thing. And now he's dead."
The young man pressed his hands down and with a sudden volt over the counter was chest to chest with Mac. "so I'll ask again, nicely. Will you, pretty please, give it back?"
…
It was a few hours later when someone decided to take a shower. Philly had a meeting with a client in a high-end restraint as soon as they landed on Borce to discuss the details of discreet transportation. She wanted to take a shower now so her hair would dry in time later for the meeting. Peter knew his prank had worked and who his victim was because the scream that echoed throughout the ship was decidedly female and way too shrill to be Gamora's.
"R-r-round one g-g-goes to Quill." The rest was lost his stutters grinned flashing his chattering teeth at how perfectly it had worked. If only his fingers would go back to their normal color.