Characters: Drax, Star-Lord, Groot
Genre: Humor, Friendship
Rated: K

Orange Peels

Drax smelled his armpit, admiring the heavy and piercing scent of a warrior that could only come from someone such as himself.

"I am Groot."

Drax frowned. "I do not smell like a targov's behind. I happen to have ridden a few in the past," he crossed his arms to emphasize his next point, "and know for a fact they smell like the burnt toast Quill fails to make every morning." He paused. "Nothing at all like me."

Groot shook his head and scratched a twig and leaf sticking from the right side of his head. "I am Groot."

"No."

"I am Groot!"

"No! Quiet or I'll have you picking up pieces of bark for the rest of the night." Drax scoffed. "At least I have more than a three-word vocabulary."

There came an exaggerated gasp as Peter Quill entered the lounge. "Now you two kids behave or I'll turn this ship around. I mean it," Quill said, sounding more serious than required.

Groot walked up to Drax and leaned in so their faces were inches apart. The warrior looked more confused than intimidated from the gesture. Groot gave a sour expression then, as if deciding Drax wasn't worth the effort, left the room.

"Tree scarecrow," Drax muttered under his breath.

"What's eating you?" Peter asked as he pulled an orange from his jacket pocket. "Usually, it's you and Gamora throwing hissy fits at each other, along with furniture. Groot's harmless, you know?"

Drax uncrossed his arms and sat heavily on the sofa. "I feel…" He struggled to find the words. "Imagine a bottle… and inside there is a fire."

Peter's eyes widened slightly.

"-a really big and powerful fire that wants to be free and explode." Drax added arm movement.

"Sounds like that warrior inside," Quill tapped his fist against his chest, "is looking for a good fight, huh?"

Drax looked around the room, silently appreciating Quill's understanding. He looked back at the human. "I think it's time for me to go."

"Go? Go where?"

"To battle."

"Uhh…" Peter sat down beside him, he still hadn't unpeeled the orange. "I know you're antsy buddy but we're in a peaceful solar system. These folks aren't handing out front row tickets to the death arena at the corner market, you know?"

"Quill."

Peter was wide-eyed, not knowing what to expect.

"These hands need to grip, twist, rip and tear." Drax unsheathed one of his blades.

"Woah there!"

"My blades, need to taste flesh. Sink deep into a beast, over and over until it's no longer living." He stared intensely at Peter who looked very disturbed.

Peter was never one to go chasing a war. After all the experiences they had together as a team, he figured they all would have the same distaste for it, but this was Drax, someone born for the battlefield. Peter wondered how long his warrior spirit would last without it. After a long ten seconds, Peter jumped to his feet and started peeling the orange frantically.

"Why are you peeling the orange so aggressively?"

Peter threw the orange peel on the ground and took a giant satisfying bite, squirting juice all over Drax's face.

The warrior wiped his cheek, "Don't you have any manners?"

"Drax, I have an idea." A phrase Peter had said on many occasions. "You're right, it's time to go."

Drax stood up abruptly. "Now?"

"We are going to go looking for a fight."

"Yes!"

Peter raised a finger, "We will be helping people in the process. It's what we do, right?"

"Yeah, sure."

"No killing."

"Yes!" It took a moment for the words to register. Drax frowned, "What do you mean no killing?!"

Peter turned and started walking towards the cockpit doors. "You heard me, Drax."

"Don't be ridiculous. I'm going to murder the first thing I see when I get there. Quill?" The doors had already closed behind Peter. "Quill wait! Let me devise the plan of attack!"