Peter stretched his wings wide, sitting on a large rock looking out at the expanse of wild pink grasses. Rocket, in a gas mask and gloves, carefully tickled Peter around his pheromone glands, milking him like a snake.
"Okay back there, bud?"
"Might need t' take a break soon, it's startin' to irritate my skin," Rocket replied, muffled through the mask.
"You want some on you?" Peter asked, craning his neck backwards.
"Couldn't hurt," Rocket said, as he sealed up the collection instruments and, only when everything was stored, removed the gloves and mask, allowing himself a whiff. "Hey, if Yondu's already got a Retribe friend, why does he need your hallucinogenic?"
"He said something about building up a tolerance. A few of his men came from pretty rough backgrounds; some of them found the spray helpful but eventually their nightmares faded, others… still need it, but it's becoming less effective. Every Retribe supposedly lets off a slightly different mix and… geez, you're out fast." Rocket was already sprawled out in the field beside him, mouth open, tongue lolling.
"Mph…" Rocket mumbled. For the most part, the mind of the user supplied a good dream, or a pleasant continuation of wakefulness, but there were ways of inciting something specific, especially since Rocket's imagination for coming up with something good for himself was often pretty limited. Most of his incited dreams, Peter discovered, after Rocket told him what it had been like, were incredibly mundane. Fixing the ship. Listening to music in the cockpit. Shopping in a bazar, but everyone treated him with basic decency. Basic decency? That was the best he could think of for himself? If Peter could spray himself, he'd be fighting crime with Captain America or at the front row of a concert. Or hanging out on the porch with his mother…
"Look, here," Peter mumbled into Rocket's ear, kneeling over him and cradling his head with the crook of his arm. "Wherever you are, if you're on the ship, you've landed. If you're on the street, follow your nose. There's a really strong, really sweet smell. Lots of pastries. A bakery." Rocket had a massive sweet tooth, but usually, due to his small size, even a single slice of cake could make him throw up. "You've got as much money in your pocket as you need, an empty stomach, and nothing in this bakery is going to make you sick. Go nuts."
He didn't mind the trail of drool pooling down to his wrist as he comm'ed Groot to come get them.
"I've finally got a full bottle for you, Yondu," Peter said over the comms. "And I've been saving my molt. I don't know what kind or how many feathers you need, so we just have a small bag you can sort through."
"Perfect. O'acca's coming 'round in the next week or two with trade goods, so why don't'cha pick some neutral ground? 'N, if ya have the chance or time, syphon what'cha can for 'im."
"Does he go around selling his own pheromones?"
"Among other things, like native jewelry, but the spray's pretty lucrative. Legal, non-habit forming, et cetera, et cetera. Hospitals pay top dollar for it as 'n alternative for those 'llergic to standard anesthetics."
"How much top dollar?"
"More than regular labor, less than what you make for Nova. Prolly better for ya to not do it, lest ya want t' be outta spray when ya need to knock out an asswipe on a job. He don't have no fightin' skills like ya."
"Yeah, I've noticed sometimes I don't have enough. It seems like it takes a while for me to produce more," Peter replied, eyeing his crew, just out of the comms view. Everyone asked him for a spritz from time to time, some more than others.
"A bottle that size goes for about 100,000 or 200,000 units, 'pendin' on if your customers have built up a tolerance," Yondu said, sighing. "But ya do the math of how long it took to make an' how much ya earn doin' dirty work."
Rocket, just out of reach, counted invisibly off his fingers. "Not worth it."
"Like I says."
"So… a good place to practice…"
"Ya want somewhere with flat spaces, standard gravity, 'n such."
"Where we are right now fits that description," Gamora piped in. "We're in the Helios sector. I can send coordinates."
"Six standard Xandarian days from now suit ya, boy?"
"Sure."
Peter went back outside, feathers whipping in the light breeze, and angled the gangway.
Might as well just camp out here and practice, he thought, as he jumped from the top and glided down to the bottom, running back up and practicing over and over for hours. Rocket looked out one of the portholes with interest.
"I change, and I'm a resentful asshole," he grumbled to Groot. "But, damn, Peter just rolled with it- look at him go." Rocket's ears perked in contentment. "Thanks for the buffet, asswipe," he added with a whisper, as he watched Peter glide, over and over for hours.
"Os," O'acca chirped, friendly greeting of 'hello'. He was of frighteningly similar build to Peter, with more androgynous facial features, a stiff corset/tube-top type torso garment (that didn't restrict or block wing movement), pants, and thick boots. He unbuckled them in a single swift motion, revealing avian talons.
"How do you walk?" Peter said, getting a better look.
"The same way you… oh right. Yondu had mentioned you're half-a. Your feet are not taloned?"
"Uh-uh." Peter shook his head, feeling like he was missing something important.
"This might be a problem…"
"No it ain't," Yondu cut in, handing Peter a small bag. "Glad I saved yer measurements from that… ahem… other job." Peter opened it, to a pair of shoes ending in stylized talons. Unlike the pair he wore… then… these were functional, digging into the earth below him easily as he walked, but looked plastic, like a pair of specialty sports shoes.
O'acca cocked his head. "Those are usually for people who are partial amputees; frostbite can hit our feet quite hard. Good to see they have other uses." He opened up the inside of his own boots to show a hard lump inside. "Those of us that do a lot of walking wear shoes like these so we don't hurt our feet or scratch indoor flooring; they also detach easily if we need to take flight."
"So I have to wear shoes over my shoes?" Peter asked, nose wrinkled. He didn't even think lacking talons would prevent him from flying. Keeping his balance in them wasn't easy- there were three claws at the end of the shoe that scraped the ground, and a fourth underneath him that was like a stiletto heel or a large cleat, except it bent quite flexibly with his own foot. Excellent for gripping into the ground, a branch, or grabbing something mid-flight… not so good for walking.
"If you want to be able to fly on a moment's notice- yes. You try walking quickly or long distances with a claw under your foot. It isn't comfortable. These provide the necessary cushioning for long walks or running. We're not really designed for that, as you can feel."
Peter lifted a foot, flexing his toes, the plastic claws bending and flexing with him. "Eh, had worse. So, what do I do?"
O'acca watched carefully as Peter, despite feeling like he'd fall flat on his face, positioned himself almost horizontally to the ground, talons digging deep into the soil and the only things preventing him from toppling. He bent his wings as he'd watched O'acca do, flapping them a few times in anticipation.
"What are you waiting for, Peter? Go."
Peter simultaneously pushed with all his might against the earth and flapped hard, doing everything to catch a draft.
He didn't even realize he'd closed his eyes in fear until he felt tears running horizontally across his face.
Opened. Looked down. Freaked out at the toys below that were the Guardians and Yondu. O'acca must have taken to the skies after he'd taken off.
"Enjoying the view?" O'acca asked, over the comms clipped to Peter's ear.
"I have thruster packs," Peter replied honestly. "So, used to it. Just not used to being up here under my own power."
"So no vertigo, that's good. Don't flap so much, though. Once you've got a draft, ride it or you'll exhaust yourself."
"Thanks, man."
"I thought I'd need to work with you some more. You ain't bad, kid."
"Kid?"
"You've only grown wings in the past year or so yeah? You're a kid."
"Touché."
"Hey, you've basically got the hang of this. There's only one more thing you should learn, but we should save it for tomorrow."
"Why?" Peter asked, as he dove in low, flying doughnuts over Groot's head before climbing altitude again. It was just like using his thrusters to move in three dimensions of space, just under his own body power.
"You're going to be sore tonight, kid."
"I don't doubt it."
The seven of them sat around a campfire Groot and Rocket set up between the Milano, O'acca's nimble trader ship the Bad Boy, and the Bloodbath, one of the Eclector's one-man skiffs. Yondu grilled meat and fish, leaving Peter's and O'acca's shares rare.
"I still don't like eating raw meat," Peter grumbled. "Fish… fish I've gotten used to. But I don't really like it if my dinner bleeds."
"Trade?" Rocket asked, holding out a skewer of grilled fruit.
"All yours, Rocket." Peter said, as he swapped kebabs.
"Hey, Rocket, right?" O'acca asked, calling him over.
"What's it to ya?" he replied with a bloodied grin from ripping at the cube of yak meat with his jaw.
"Can we practice on you tomorrow? Lifting you while flying, I mean."
Rocket blinked. "Wait, I thought liftin' summat, even my size, would break a bone in ya."
"If I lifted you with my arms, yes."
Rocket looked from O'acca's hands, grasping the stick of meat, down to his feet, out of his boots and stretching his talons open and shut like a trap.
"Flarg no, man, I ain't some sorta quarry."
Peter swallowed a piece of charred fruit and wiped his mouth on the back of his hand. "Well, it's your loss, man."
"Huh?" Rocket asked, quizzically.
"Think about it. I wouldn't break skin- what if you wore something with grips? Suspenders could work, right?"
"A proper harness would be better, but, flying, with our talons, we can lift about 40 or 50 kilos. More with proper practice. More than enough to lift you and weaponry."
"Yeah," Peter added, shaking his half-eaten skewer at Rocket. "Can you imagine dive- bombing some of our enemies on a mission? Or being dropped into a compound safely, instead of from the Milano?"
Rocket frowned, ripping off another bloody cube of almost-raw meat. "I'll think on it."
Rocket sat in his workshop that night, modifying one of his battle suits. A built-in parachute was just a good idea, dammit!, he'd told Groot.
Groot just smiled, handing him grommets, PVC cloth, and other supplies, as Rocket worked in silence.
Peter realized giving up his thruster packs wasn't a good idea. He couldn't exactly jet around in space, or in tight indoor spaces on his own locomotion, and was modifying the supports on his packs to attach to the ridiculous shoes-over-shoes. But O'acca was right, the boots over the talons did provide support, and he was surprised how easy and painless it was to walk in them (and how difficult it was without), and kick them off if he needed to make a quick getaway by air. He flexed his foot, the teal prosthetic plastic talon opening and closing with his movement.
After crafting the new supports, and putting the boots and thrusters on, Peter looked at his handiwork. Not too heavy, not unbalanced.
He pulled the boots, then the talons off, wiggling his bare toes, free from their confines, and picked up one of the thruster packs.
He may have decided not to give up his own thrusters to Rocket, but a promise was a promise. He returned to the tiny workbench in his room, pushed aside a disassembled prototype blaster he'd been working on, and got to work making a copy of the device.
O'acca met Peter on top of the Milano the following morning after breakfast.
"Two more things to practice, and then it's just refining this stuff on your own," he said cheerfully.
Peter yawned; it was far too early for this shit. He wanted to punch whomever thought up 'early bird catches the worm' right in their smug little face.
"Using your talons, and flying from a hard start. We'll start with the latter," O'acca said, stretching his wings and slipping off his shoes. "A hard start is easy, it's just frightening the first few times. Run, jump, and flap until you have a good draft. You do need to jump off of something, though. We're too heavy to do a hard start from the ground without the taloned push-off."
O'acca walked to one side of the ship, squatted and spread his wings, and began to hobble-run to the edge, jumping off and flapping hard, but focused. Peter watched him dip a meter before catching a draft, soaring back into the air, just like their ground start from the day before. Except, Peter realized, if he fucked up, he'd be a tangle of broken bones or worse. Peter gulped. He pulled off his own boots, and attached the thruster packs to leather straps below the knees, just in case, walking awkwardly on his shoe-talons and copying O'acca's suicidal jump.
Thankfully, he didn't need his thrusters, but the fact they were tied to his legs did make him feel a little better as he soared up and around the three ships, diving down to their campsite, landing neatly.
Rocket trotted towards Peter, wearing a harness with a parachute, and carrying a dumbbell simulating the additional weight of one of his guns. He looked down at the plastic claws on Peter's feet, still not entirely on board with the idea of being carried through the air. "Ya break skin and I will shatter every bone in your body, y'hear?"
"O'acca's doing it first," Peter replied. "He's the expert. If you don't feel comfortable with him carting you around, it ends there. Oh, and," Peter added, "Before we do it, I have something for you. Both to say thanks and also to cover your butt." Peter slipped off the talons and ran barefoot back into the Milano, sliding out with a small pack of electronics.
"These aren't for sustained flight planetside, but you can wear them in space for about two hours or so, or help you soften a fall or make a long jump," he said, holding out the tiny thruster packs to Rocket. "They should clip straight to your munitions pouches, and these'll sync with your cybernetics, if you want them to, so you can activate them by thought."
Rocket looked at them for a moment, before greedily swiping them from Peter's hands, clipping them in place.
"Makes me feel a bit better 'bout bein' prey for ya idjits, I guess," he gruffed, but his elation was unmistakable.
"Go run out to the field and show me how it's done," Peter said, smacking Rocket lightly on the shoulder as Rocket ran to the practice spot on all fours.
Carrying Rocket with his talons was not easy, Peter thought, breathing sharply through his nose and concentrating hard. He swooped down low, releasing Rocket just off the ground, and Rocket tumbled as he'd practiced, holding the dumbbell out in front of him like a gun.
"WHO'S GONNA DIE TODAY?!" Rocket joked, screaming, pretending to shoot imaginary enemies after being dropped.
Peter flapped down next to him in the field, sighing as he stretched out his wings.
"I'm going to be dead tomorrow…" he mumbled. "I was already sore this morning. Should have taken the day off."
"Poor baby," Rocket mocked, then saw Peter wince as he folded his wings behind him. "Uh, sorry. I couldn't imagine how hard that was for ya."
"No big," Peter replied, as he took the talons off, and walked alongside Rocket back to their campsite for lunch. "Just more practice over time, is all."
"We can set up the engine room as a sauna again if ya need it. Honestly, I was plannin' on doin' it for me anyway," Rocker said, lightly elbowing Peter in the shin.
"That'd help."
Peter flopped onto the ground, while Drax passed out plates of vinegary egg and fish with some root vegetables.
"O'acca, think I'm done."
"You should rest a few days and keep practicing again on your own," he replied, pointing his utensil at Peter as he spoke. "And wear those rocket things, just in case."
"Planned on it."
"Also, here, from Yondu. Well, from me, technically, but Yondu paid for it," O'acca said, stepping over to Peter and handing him a small, plastic perfume bottle.
"You can't spray yourself, but I can- if you ever need an escape. I'd suggest this afternoon, and letting your body heal while you're off somewhere else. If it's just for you, this should last about five hundred uses. How quickly you need to call me for another bottle's on you. If you don't want to pay me cash, I'll accept an even trade, since I can sell yours too. And don't use it more than you need- it may be safe, but you'll eventually be immune to mine, and there really aren't too many of us who've left home."
"Thanks," Peter said to O'acca, looking over at Yondu, who was conveniently digging face-first into his own lunch.
"And thanks, asshole," Peter added, aiming his comment directly at the Centurian.
"Don' care if you're Terran, rat, or bird, or 'nythin' between," Yondu said. "Yer still my boy. Don't'cha dare forget that now."
Drax nodded, Gamora smiled.
He wasn't a Retribe, not by birth or culture. He was Peter Jason Quill, a Ravager.
He may not have been born with wings, but he'd certainly been born to fly.
Big shoutout to the Guardian Kinkmeme and the anon who requested this prompt! I'm not really a fan of PWP or smut, but there were a whole bunch of awesome prompts over there like this one, so if any of you writers have writer's block, go check out the Livejournal- there might be something that catches your interest.
Thrusters may now be over, but want to read more of my work?
I have twenty-six (!) one shots, seven posted on their own (Nesting, Anatomy Lesson, Toddle, Truth, Ship Repair, Squish, and Order Me Something Strong) and the remaining nineteen in a collection (Nova, We Have a Problem) ranging from original Guardians stories with Vance Astro and Yondu to the 2008 run with Mantis, more MCU, and everything in between. I'm sure you'll find a short to enjoy.
On top of that, I have four other chapter stories, one complete, and three in progress:
Finished:
1. Mirror House is based off the prompt "After-effects from the Infinity Stone: Something like Power (incarnate?) flowing through you [Peter] and 3 or 4 people has to do something weird I would think." It's eight chapters of the Guardians learning how to use a new power they've gained from contact with the Stone, and was really fun to write.
In-Progress:
2. The Hunt is my first fic, and still being written, it's slow going due to its puzzles.
3. ReN is only one chapter and on hold, I'll be posting the entire rest at once (or on a set schedule once it's done), since the plot for it is quite tight. This one is going to get dark, and it's a hard M for a reason (violence, mostly).
4. Lastly, I really, really want to plug Risky Business. Yes, it's a Rocket/Gamora fic, which may be a turnoff. I know a lot of you guys ship Pocket, and for some reason, Rockmora gets a LOT of backlash. But if you like my work, give Risky a try! An absolutely amazing writer, somelittlemonster (he only writes on Archive of our Own, go look up his stuff), and I are working on it as a pass-along story. We leave each other with crazy cliffhangers that the other person needs to write themselves out of without breaking continuity. We're 40,000 words in and have had only one continuity error so far, and a minor one caught quickly at that. If you like my work at all (which you obviously do, coming all this way and finishing the story, thanks!) give it a try, even if Rockmora isn't something you'd consider reading.
Whether you're a first time reader or follow all my work, thank you ALL. Seriously. You're awesome.
Lastly, with two of my five ongoing fics finished, and one of the remaining three a pass along (so I'm writing only every other chapter with quite some down time in between), I'm looking for some new ideas. Prompts are always welcome, whether they're a crazy action crossover or fluffy Pocket. I take all suggestions, so long as they're not smut/PWP, but I may take them in an interesting direction (someone asked for a wingfic, I wrote Thrusters, for example). And if you give me your name instead of just being anon, you'll get credit, too.
Here are some prompts I've received:
-Rocket joining SHIELD (rejected) (I've turned this down since I don't know enough about SHIELD to write it properly, so if one of you wants to take a stab, please do)
-Rocket's Origins, MCU version- FOUR different people requested this prompt (accepted) (Planned, as a multi-chaptered fic- I already had this in the works, using some stuff I started in the Nova one-shots, so the remaining few chapters to make this a separate story should be pretty quick)
-Peter being augmented/experimented on (unsure) (still on the fence on this one- I need a good idea or hook… probably won't happen unless I can think of a plausible reason for it and make it more than hurt/comfort. I like my longer fics to have some kind of plot.)
-Rocket breaks into prison… to break Groot out of prison (accepted) (I already have an outline for this one, too. Will be a fun one-shot, titled Diplomatic Immunity)
Again, I can't thank you enough. Thanks for reading and enjoying.
Go out there and keep being awesome!