[ she shakes her head, but not enough to displace his hands. ]
You and I are very different. How you respond to an injury won't be the
same for me, because I have a differing tolerance – and because I have
been through this process before.
[ and this isn't necessarily a criticism of him. they are
biologically different, and because of that, they can experience damage in
wholly separate ways. ]
It doesn't frighten or deter me because I know I am fine.
[ He sounds a little unsure, if only because it's still so weird to him, recovering from a break as devastating as that in less than a day.
But he trusts Gamora, and if she says she's fine, then— well, okay, sometimes she's not fine. Sometimes she's bullheaded about her need for self-reliance and never showing weakness, and blah, blah, blah, but—
She's getting better. If this had happened a week after they first met, she would've holed herself up in some dark corner, probably, would've kept fucking up her arm as she braided her own hair, but she's in the center of the ship. She's letting Peter, of all people, do this, and—
It's a step forward.
Peter slows a little as he reaches the halfway point of the braid. Nearly done, and a part of him is a little reluctant to let it end. So he slows a little, focusing on keeping the braid neat and tidy. ]
As long as you're not gonna break it all over again. 'Cause I'm, you know. I'm pretty sure I can only handle seeing one of those a day.
[ even something as seemingly simple as letting the others see her while injured is significant for gamora. before, while still under thanos's thumb, there was no scenario where she would have left herself openly vulnerable like this; but here, with the guardians, she doesn't try to hide the fact that she's been hurt. she handles it differently, yes, but she isn't denying that damage has been done.
she's accepting help, after all, and letting peter do something so seemingly minor for her (but, in reality, this is also significant). she isn't in any hurry to see the braid finished, either, and even if she could have finished this quickly with two working arms, she doesn't see a need to rush him or otherwise. it's still...nice having someone else touching her hair.
there's a tiny quirk of her lips, but only because she's not looking back at peter, because she doesn't think he'll see it. ]
I won't break it again. It should be fully healed by tomorrow, anyway.
[ but she holds up her arm, giving a demonstration of her fingers slowly (painfully slowly) extending and flexing, then curling into a fist. if she goes about it with some degree of patience, her hand doesn't shake (but that does, in fact, require said patience). ]
[ When she moves, Peter glances up, watches her work her hand again. It still makes him wince, if only because he remembers how bad the break had been, how unnatural her arm had looked after the blow.
(Jesus, that second had terrified him. Because he honestly thought a hit as devastating as that would've left her vulnerable.
He feels a little guilty for his momentary lapse in judgement. He apparently forgot that Gamora is a certified fucking Badass. Capital B.) ]
That's very impressive and all, but— I still think you should give it till morning till you try to put yourself through your paces.
[ which is...true. as far as gamora's concerned, just flexing her fingers is the easiest and least painful thing she could be doing with her slowly healing arm.
but she lets her hand fall back into her lap, her other fingers rubbing gently at her forearm and the small ache kicked up by the exercise. ]
You don't need to worry so much over the state of my arm, Quill. It should heal without incident.
I'm not worried over the state of your arm. I'm worried over the state of you.
[ And maybe Peter should be more embarrassed by admitting that, but— well, it has to be obvious by now.
He worries over his team, all of them, worries over his role as captain, worries if he's doing his job with any sort of efficacy. And days like today? It's like shaking a Magic 8-Ball and every answer being, All signs point to no.
Even with as slow as he was going, Peter reaches the end of the braid. Slowly, he reaches over to the table, plucking up the little hair tie. ]
Today was a shitty day. [ Simply, though there's a grim edge to the words. ] Said it yourself, right? You and I are gonna react to things very differently.
[ that gives gamora pause. she hadn't really considered that quill might be concerned with more than just her broken arm, because, in her mind, there's very little else to worry over. ]
It didn't go well.
[ also putting it mildly, but mostly because she doesn't hold peter accountable for it. things went wrong, they weren't given the right information, but they handled it.
there could have been more disastrous results than a broken limb, in all honesty. ]
Then what exactly has you so concerned?
[ it's a question that's broader than just over what happened today.
[ ... complicated is what he wants to say. Dismiss it all away and call it good. That's kind of his thing, after all. Ignoring the problems, burying them away until he can pretend he's forgotten them.
But that's not going to work, because Peter has to learn from his mistakes, these days, has to face them and deal with them and learn to be better, but he doesn't know how to fucking start. Because instead of spotting the mistakes, figuring out how to improve, he gets stuck in a spiral of what-ifs and should've dones until it starts dragging him down. And he just boxes everything away to deal with later.
Which he never does.
He ties off the braid at last, the light tips of her hair curling slightly at the ends, and he lets the plait rest against her back. ]
You know— [ This, after a long second of silence, after a deep breath. He licks his lips, one of his hands coming to rest against his side when a bruise twinges slightly. ] —if you had just been a couple steps to the right, that club would've slammed into your head, not your arm.
[ the braid is finished, and gamora finds she's almost...disappointed by that. but instead of pursuing that line of thought, she turns slightly in her hair to look up at peter. ]
I'm aware.
[ of course she is. she's run through many of those possibilities in her mind, played out every scenario with different variables, but at the end of the day— ]
It didn't.
[ she gestures to the chair next to hers, in a "have a seat" kind of way. ]
I wasn't as prepared as I should have been. Are you bothered that I was caught off guard?
[ And he snaps back the response a little quicker, a little sharper than he intends. ]
Let's start off with the botched intel, huh? One guy with a couple of known associates. I decide to take it at face value, just to find out on the day that he's got a fucking gang.
And then there's the fucking fight itself, not calling the shots quick enough. Drax almost got turned into a shish kabob – did you see that? Or the way some guy nearly used Rocket as a golf ball? And that's not even mentioning the bit where Gallagher almost squashed your head like a watermelon—
[ she cuts him off (again with his first name), stern but lacking the same edge there might have been previously. after a brief flash of hesitation, she reaches out with her good hand, resting it tentatively on his knee — though there is nothing tentative or reluctant about her tone. ]
It was chaos no one could have anticipated, and you are not at fault for acting on what was assumed to be reasonable information. You didn't fail us for a situation you could not control, and we made it no easier by breaking ranks so quickly. But we're all alive and well, and you helped to see us through.
[ she doesn't make reassurance a habit, nor does she often see a need to offer it to quill. but moments like these, when he starts to fall into this pattern, she can't help wanting to put things into perspective for him — because she knows he won't do it for himself. ]
The only person blaming you for today is yourself.
[ their teammates are hardly ones to be shy about their opinions and grievances; frustration after the fight had been directed far more at their quarry and inaccurate intel than at peter — and they certainly would have told him if they held him accountable for that mess. ]
[ And for the second time today, when she says his name, he shuts up, startled. On instinct, his gaze snaps down to his lap – because this time, it feels like the lecture voice. The I'm not mad, I'm disappointed voice. And he braces himself for impact.
He's not prepared for her to reach out, to rest her hand on his knee, and he follows the line of her arm up to her face, staring at her in astonishment. His heartbeat kicks up, pounding against the inside of his ribs. His mouth goes dry, and he realizes, as if for the first time, just how damn close she is. Peter's always found Gamora drop-dead-fucking-gorgeous, but—
He finds he likes her best in these quiet moments, when conviction blazes in her eyes, something quietly fierce and determined.
The problem, though, is that it's difficult to find it in himself to agree with her, because he keeps thinking, If Yondu were running this job, none of this shit would've happened. And Yondu might be a fucking dickweed, but he was an effective dickweed. A fucking asshole who knew what he was doing, while Peter—
Well. Peter's just a fucking asshole, more often than not.
His gaze drops again, down and away to glance at the mess assembled atop the table. Bits of wires and half-formed gadgets. Drax's oil cloths, from maintaining his blades. A forgotten twig, here and there, left behind from pruning Groot. Gamora's comb. Peter's Walkman. He lets out a slow breath, picks at a crease in his trousers. ]
Is this— [ he gestures to the table. ] Are we— is it working?
the team is already an improbable mishmash of people who were otherwise just not team players. rocket and groot are the only ones who have some semblance of teamwork, but the rest of them? they can hold it together sometimes, but then days like today, when they're caught so badly off guard...
sometimes that cooperation just falls apart.
she's quiet for a moment, like she's genuinely considering his question. ]
I do not think today was indicative of us as a whole.
Things will go badly; that is an eventuality. The way we respond and handle a situation is what matters, and we made it out alive.
[ she sighs, pulling her hand away from peter's knee to lean back in her chair, her gaze following his to the table. ]
I think we have work to do. Today showed our weaknesses as a group, and we need to avoid repeating those mistakes.
[ but she looks back at peter, still with that steady, quiet determination. ]
But do you genuinely think this is not working?
Edited (when u see a typo the instant you reply) 2017-02-20 19:50 (UTC)
[ Peter takes a few moments to gather his thoughts, staring moodily at the table.
He's always been about the path of least resistance, after all, and in this case, that particular path means calling this quits. Going their separate ways. Because if they're going to keep facing failures like today, if they're just going to get hurt like this, over and over—
Well.
That sucks. ]
I guess... [ Slowly, picking and choosing the words. ] I guess I'm just wondering if...
[ He scrubs his face. ]
I dunno that we can keep doing this. Fucking up this badly.
[ gamora doesn't reply at first, just looking at him, watching. ]
This is dangerous work. Things will go wrong. But I believe—
[ she stops herself, frowning. it's hard to articulate the way she feels about the team (because if there's anything gamora does not do, it's acknowledge or, even worse, discuss her feelings). but after everything they've managed together, after what the guardians have done for her with their very existence... she knows that this is not something she wants to lose.
and if that isn't massive for her, she doesn't know what is. ]
[ That manages to surprise him into silence, and he looks over at her again, as if waiting for the other foot to drop. Some kind of "but..." to unravel that whole thing.
It's small, but it's far more than he ever expected from Gamora, and he feels that tight knot of anxiety ease a little.
He nods slowly, dropping both hands to his lap. ]
... Yeah. I think you're right.
[ And a smile tugs at the corner of his mouth, small and barely there. ]
[ ...and it's said completely nonchalant, too, with the vaguest hint of a smile on her lips, but she also knows that the dramatic improvement peter's made in their training probably helped a great deal today.
(if gamora was one to say it, she might have even told him that she's proud of him.
as it stands, it's more along the lines of, "you stayed alive. keep doing that.") ]
[ that "thank you" definitely catches her off guard, and she blinks at him for a moment, but then that vague smile is just a touch warmer. a little bigger.
(but just slightly.) ]
You're welcome.
[ and she straightens in her chair, reaching up finally to touch the braid and feel what he's managed to do. ]
[ Peter's nose wrinkles at that, arms crossing over his chest as he lifts his chin. ]
Not bad? That's all? That's probably the best damn braid in the galaxy, I'll have you know.
[ it isn't.
It's slightly crooked, thanks to lack of practice, and a tiny loop of hair may be sticking out from when he didn't properly comb through the strains with his fingers as he gathered more hair for the braid, but—
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
If you were me?
[ she shakes her head, but not enough to displace his hands. ]
You and I are very different. How you respond to an injury won't be the same for me, because I have a differing tolerance – and because I have been through this process before.
[ and this isn't necessarily a criticism of him. they are biologically different, and because of that, they can experience damage in wholly separate ways. ]
It doesn't frighten or deter me because I know I am fine.
...but I will not reinjure it, I assure you.
no subject
[ He sounds a little unsure, if only because it's still so weird to him, recovering from a break as devastating as that in less than a day.
But he trusts Gamora, and if she says she's fine, then— well, okay, sometimes she's not fine. Sometimes she's bullheaded about her need for self-reliance and never showing weakness, and blah, blah, blah, but—
She's getting better. If this had happened a week after they first met, she would've holed herself up in some dark corner, probably, would've kept fucking up her arm as she braided her own hair, but she's in the center of the ship. She's letting Peter, of all people, do this, and—
It's a step forward.
Peter slows a little as he reaches the halfway point of the braid. Nearly done, and a part of him is a little reluctant to let it end. So he slows a little, focusing on keeping the braid neat and tidy. ]
As long as you're not gonna break it all over again. 'Cause I'm, you know. I'm pretty sure I can only handle seeing one of those a day.
no subject
she's accepting help, after all, and letting peter do something so seemingly minor for her (but, in reality, this is also significant). she isn't in any hurry to see the braid finished, either, and even if she could have finished this quickly with two working arms, she doesn't see a need to rush him or otherwise. it's still...nice having someone else touching her hair.
there's a tiny quirk of her lips, but only because she's not looking back at peter, because she doesn't think he'll see it. ]
I won't break it again. It should be fully healed by tomorrow, anyway.
[ but she holds up her arm, giving a demonstration of her fingers slowly (painfully slowly) extending and flexing, then curling into a fist. if she goes about it with some degree of patience, her hand doesn't shake (but that does, in fact, require said patience). ]
See? It has already improved.
no subject
(Jesus, that second had terrified him. Because he honestly thought a hit as devastating as that would've left her vulnerable.
He feels a little guilty for his momentary lapse in judgement. He apparently forgot that Gamora is a certified fucking Badass. Capital B.) ]
That's very impressive and all, but— I still think you should give it till morning till you try to put yourself through your paces.
no subject
[ which is...true. as far as gamora's concerned, just flexing her fingers is the easiest and least painful thing she could be doing with her slowly healing arm.
but she lets her hand fall back into her lap, her other fingers rubbing gently at her forearm and the small ache kicked up by the exercise. ]
You don't need to worry so much over the state of my arm, Quill. It should heal without incident.
no subject
[ And maybe Peter should be more embarrassed by admitting that, but— well, it has to be obvious by now.
He worries over his team, all of them, worries over his role as captain, worries if he's doing his job with any sort of efficacy. And days like today? It's like shaking a Magic 8-Ball and every answer being, All signs point to no.
Even with as slow as he was going, Peter reaches the end of the braid. Slowly, he reaches over to the table, plucking up the little hair tie. ]
Today was a shitty day. [ Simply, though there's a grim edge to the words. ] Said it yourself, right? You and I are gonna react to things very differently.
no subject
It didn't go well.
[ also putting it mildly, but mostly because she doesn't hold peter accountable for it. things went wrong, they weren't given the right information, but they handled it.
there could have been more disastrous results than a broken limb, in all honesty. ]
Then what exactly has you so concerned?
[ it's a question that's broader than just over what happened today.
it's also an offer to listen to him. ]
no subject
[ ... complicated is what he wants to say. Dismiss it all away and call it good. That's kind of his thing, after all. Ignoring the problems, burying them away until he can pretend he's forgotten them.
But that's not going to work, because Peter has to learn from his mistakes, these days, has to face them and deal with them and learn to be better, but he doesn't know how to fucking start. Because instead of spotting the mistakes, figuring out how to improve, he gets stuck in a spiral of what-ifs and should've dones until it starts dragging him down. And he just boxes everything away to deal with later.
Which he never does.
He ties off the braid at last, the light tips of her hair curling slightly at the ends, and he lets the plait rest against her back. ]
You know— [ This, after a long second of silence, after a deep breath. He licks his lips, one of his hands coming to rest against his side when a bruise twinges slightly. ] —if you had just been a couple steps to the right, that club would've slammed into your head, not your arm.
no subject
I'm aware.
[ of course she is. she's run through many of those possibilities in her mind, played out every scenario with different variables, but at the end of the day— ]
It didn't.
[ she gestures to the chair next to hers, in a "have a seat" kind of way. ]
I wasn't as prepared as I should have been. Are you bothered that I was caught off guard?
no subject
Probably not the way you think, though.
[ He hesitates before he finally sinks into the seat beside her, slouching down. ]
I should've seen 'em coming sooner.
no subject
...you think this was the result of your failure?
[ he'd been just as wrapped up as the rest of them in that fight, after all. how could he have possibly alerted her any earlier than he had? ]
no subject
[ And he snaps back the response a little quicker, a little sharper than he intends. ]
Let's start off with the botched intel, huh? One guy with a couple of known associates. I decide to take it at face value, just to find out on the day that he's got a fucking gang.
And then there's the fucking fight itself, not calling the shots quick enough. Drax almost got turned into a shish kabob – did you see that? Or the way some guy nearly used Rocket as a golf ball? And that's not even mentioning the bit where Gallagher almost squashed your head like a watermelon—
no subject
[ she cuts him off (again with his first name), stern but lacking the same edge there might have been previously. after a brief flash of hesitation, she reaches out with her good hand, resting it tentatively on his knee — though there is nothing tentative or reluctant about her tone. ]
It was chaos no one could have anticipated, and you are not at fault for acting on what was assumed to be reasonable information. You didn't fail us for a situation you could not control, and we made it no easier by breaking ranks so quickly. But we're all alive and well, and you helped to see us through.
[ she doesn't make reassurance a habit, nor does she often see a need to offer it to quill. but moments like these, when he starts to fall into this pattern, she can't help wanting to put things into perspective for him — because she knows he won't do it for himself. ]
The only person blaming you for today is yourself.
[ their teammates are hardly ones to be shy about their opinions and grievances; frustration after the fight had been directed far more at their quarry and inaccurate intel than at peter — and they certainly would have told him if they held him accountable for that mess. ]
no subject
He's not prepared for her to reach out, to rest her hand on his knee, and he follows the line of her arm up to her face, staring at her in astonishment. His heartbeat kicks up, pounding against the inside of his ribs. His mouth goes dry, and he realizes, as if for the first time, just how damn close she is. Peter's always found Gamora drop-dead-fucking-gorgeous, but—
He finds he likes her best in these quiet moments, when conviction blazes in her eyes, something quietly fierce and determined.
The problem, though, is that it's difficult to find it in himself to agree with her, because he keeps thinking, If Yondu were running this job, none of this shit would've happened. And Yondu might be a fucking dickweed, but he was an effective dickweed. A fucking asshole who knew what he was doing, while Peter—
Well. Peter's just a fucking asshole, more often than not.
His gaze drops again, down and away to glance at the mess assembled atop the table. Bits of wires and half-formed gadgets. Drax's oil cloths, from maintaining his blades. A forgotten twig, here and there, left behind from pruning Groot. Gamora's comb. Peter's Walkman. He lets out a slow breath, picks at a crease in his trousers. ]
Is this— [ he gestures to the table. ] Are we— is it working?
no subject
well, that's the question, isn't it?
the team is already an improbable mishmash of people who were otherwise just not team players. rocket and groot are the only ones who have some semblance of teamwork, but the rest of them? they can hold it together sometimes, but then days like today, when they're caught so badly off guard...
sometimes that cooperation just falls apart.
she's quiet for a moment, like she's genuinely considering his question. ]
I do not think today was indicative of us as a whole.
Things will go badly; that is an eventuality. The way we respond and handle a situation is what matters, and we made it out alive.
[ she sighs, pulling her hand away from peter's knee to lean back in her chair, her gaze following his to the table. ]
I think we have work to do. Today showed our weaknesses as a group, and we need to avoid repeating those mistakes.
[ but she looks back at peter, still with that steady, quiet determination. ]
But do you genuinely think this is not working?
no subject
He's always been about the path of least resistance, after all, and in this case, that particular path means calling this quits. Going their separate ways. Because if they're going to keep facing failures like today, if they're just going to get hurt like this, over and over—
Well.
That sucks. ]
I guess... [ Slowly, picking and choosing the words. ] I guess I'm just wondering if...
[ He scrubs his face. ]
I dunno that we can keep doing this. Fucking up this badly.
no subject
This is dangerous work. Things will go wrong. But I believe—
[ she stops herself, frowning. it's hard to articulate the way she feels about the team (because if there's anything gamora does not do, it's acknowledge or, even worse, discuss her feelings). but after everything they've managed together, after what the guardians have done for her with their very existence... she knows that this is not something she wants to lose.
and if that isn't massive for her, she doesn't know what is. ]
—I believe we are better together.
no subject
It's small, but it's far more than he ever expected from Gamora, and he feels that tight knot of anxiety ease a little.
He nods slowly, dropping both hands to his lap. ]
... Yeah. I think you're right.
[ And a smile tugs at the corner of his mouth, small and barely there. ]
What would I do without you?
no subject
[ ...and it's said completely nonchalant, too, with the vaguest hint of a smile on her lips, but she also knows that the dramatic improvement peter's made in their training probably helped a great deal today.
(if gamora was one to say it, she might have even told him that she's proud of him.
as it stands, it's more along the lines of, "you stayed alive. keep doing that.") ]
no subject
Yeah.
[ And even as he smiles, it takes on a sort of sheepish edge. ]
I'd definitely be dead by now, if it hadn't been for you.
[ The Infinity Stone. Leaping for it and having its power tear through him.
Peter. Take my hand.
He's not sure if he's ever really expressed how goddamn grateful he was for that, for her risking it all on the off-chance it might save him. ]
... Thanks, Gamora. [ It's only a fraction of what he owes her, but it's a start. ]
no subject
(but just slightly.) ]
You're welcome.
[ and she straightens in her chair, reaching up finally to touch the braid and feel what he's managed to do. ]
This isn't bad.
[ well, it's sort of praise. ]
no subject
Not bad? That's all? That's probably the best damn braid in the galaxy, I'll have you know.
[ it isn't.
It's slightly crooked, thanks to lack of practice, and a tiny loop of hair may be sticking out from when he didn't properly comb through the strains with his fingers as he gathered more hair for the braid, but—
It's acceptable, he figures. ]