text; un: gamora

[godslay]

A Public Service Announcement:

Star-Lord is the handsomest, funniest, most modest guy around with the sweetest singing voice and the sickest dance moves. It’s an absolute privilege and delight to call him a friend. My days are enriched for knowing him and fuller for speaking with him.

Everyone adores him. They think he’s a righteous dude.





P.S. – Gamora, you shouldn’t leave your comm lying around unlocked. xoxo Star-Lord

Comments

[nostalgiabomb]

[ —it's weird, how much of a relief those two words are. Weirder still that he should even feel relieved in the first place.

But maybe that's because he so rarely apologized and meant it, and rarely did anyone ever accept them like Gamora has. If he fucked up, he had to make up for it, somehow, had to pay back his mistakes with twenty times interest.

Old instincts die hard, apparently, which is why he carefully asks, ]

Are you sure?

[godslay]

[ She sighs at him – just a short huff of breath – but her annoyance is half-hearted. ]

If I wasn't sure, I would have hung up on you.

[nostalgiabomb]

... yeah. Okay. Fair.

[ But the words are still cast uncertainly, all the same. His teeth catch on his lower lip for a second, then—

this is going to be risky. This is— this might be a bad move. This could, like, be a totally dumb maneuver, but—

Oh, fuck it, says an all too familiar, reckless voice at the back of his head. ]

I can make it up to you?

[ and he blurts the words out before he can think anymore on them. ]

[godslay]

[ That catches her momentarily off guard, and she stares at her comm for a moment, her head tilted just slightly. ]

... How do you intend to do that?

[ It's not necessarily reluctance because she doesn't trust him, but rather, she's not sure what avenue he might think will justify lying about Kevin Bacon. ]

[nostalgiabomb]

I, uh.

[ —"didn't think this through," is what nearly escapes his lips, but— ]

I could... take you out for a drink? Or, um. Dinner. Maybe. If you wanted.

[ THANK GOD THIS IS PRIVATE

no one will see him flounder his way through this, and no one will see him potentially get shot down faster than a plane in a demilitarized zone. ]

[godslay]

[ Well, that was awkward.

But at least Peter managed to get the sentence out, so that's something.

And it's also something that Gamora doesn't have a short, immediate "no" waiting for him – or, hilariously more likely – prepared just to interrupt him, and instead: ]

You can take me to dinner.

[nostalgiabomb]

[ He's waiting on the rejection, honestly. He's waiting on the "thanks, but no thanks. Because you're a total sleaze."

(He found out later, how those stupid slices of cake were basically spiked, how it had made them feel all weirdly... affectionate, and they hadn't really talked about the things they said or the way they had, like, cuddled because of it all.

Which has made things a little uncomfortable since he's been back.)

So when she like. Says yes, he has to stop. Recalibrate.

Then, ]

—Yeah?

[ It comes out a few shades higher than his normal timbre. ]

Like... really?

[godslay]

[ She's not surprised that he asks, just to be sure, but maybe someday Peter will learn to take Gamora at her word. ]

Really, Peter. We can do it tomorrow.

[ Tonight, she's getting fed by a dork with glasses. ]

[nostalgiabomb]

I— yeah. Okay. Tomorrow.

[ —oh, shit, that's really soon, actually. Like— tomorrow tomorrow?

... oh god.

No. Okay. Stay excited, Peter. This is good. This is a good thing. And Peter grins, wide and bright and unrestrained, though thankfully for him, it goes hidden. ]

I, uh, guess just think of where you wanna go, and we'll plan on it.

[godslay]

Good.

[ Though now she has to figure out a place for them to go.

And before she ends the call, a small but warm smile stretches across her lips. ]

I'll see you at home.

[ ... and then she hangs up. ]