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[ Charlie can't help the small twinge in his chest, something that whispers darkly in his ear that maybe if he'd been around, Peter wouldn't have gotten hurt. A guilty conscience he hasn't been able to fully get rid of, damning him if he does, damning him if he doesn't.
Thankfully, Charlie's gotten rather good at ignoring that wispy, dark little voice. He shoves it aside, and the corners of his mouth quirk upward in a small smile ]
Hey, nobody's perfect.
[ But that grin is fleeting, and his expression goes serious once more. ]
I am truly sorry Peter. If I could do it over again, I'd have said something. I'd have stayed.
... I'd like to stay now, if you'd let me.
Thankfully, Charlie's gotten rather good at ignoring that wispy, dark little voice. He shoves it aside, and the corners of his mouth quirk upward in a small smile ]
Hey, nobody's perfect.
[ But that grin is fleeting, and his expression goes serious once more. ]
I am truly sorry Peter. If I could do it over again, I'd have said something. I'd have stayed.
... I'd like to stay now, if you'd let me.
I didn't mean—
[ She stops herself, because Gamora is not one to clarify when her words are misunderstood, especially not when it would give away something more telling than a simple want of explanation.
She keeps Peter braced and upright, taking another step closer to make it easier, to give him more to lean on if he needs it. ]
Where did you hit your head?
[ The hand on his shoulder moves tentatively to the back of his head, winding into his hair to look for the spot. Careful, actually gentle, because the last thing she wants to do is aggravate the blow — but she still wants to check it, as much as she can. ]
[ She stops herself, because Gamora is not one to clarify when her words are misunderstood, especially not when it would give away something more telling than a simple want of explanation.
She keeps Peter braced and upright, taking another step closer to make it easier, to give him more to lean on if he needs it. ]
Where did you hit your head?
[ The hand on his shoulder moves tentatively to the back of his head, winding into his hair to look for the spot. Careful, actually gentle, because the last thing she wants to do is aggravate the blow — but she still wants to check it, as much as she can. ]
[ Peter huffs out a short laugh, gesturing to the log around them. ]
Not as though you've got much place to go, seeing as how I dragged you out here.
[ A joke, and a lackluster one at that, but Peter's never done very well with serious. ]
Not as though you've got much place to go, seeing as how I dragged you out here.
[ A joke, and a lackluster one at that, but Peter's never done very well with serious. ]
[ His mouth opens to answer her question, and he gets as far as saying, ]
It's—
[ But her fingers land on it without his prompting, a slowly growing lump on the back of his head, with only a tiny little cut to recommend it. It would've been a lot worse without the helmet, Peter knows, but that's not much consolation when it hurts now. And light as her touch is, he flinches away. ]
Ow— fucking—
[ He forces himself to still, as much as he wants to jerk away from her probing fingers. And with his eyes still shut, he grits out, ]
There.
[ As though it needed clarification. ]
It's—
[ But her fingers land on it without his prompting, a slowly growing lump on the back of his head, with only a tiny little cut to recommend it. It would've been a lot worse without the helmet, Peter knows, but that's not much consolation when it hurts now. And light as her touch is, he flinches away. ]
Ow— fucking—
[ He forces himself to still, as much as he wants to jerk away from her probing fingers. And with his eyes still shut, he grits out, ]
There.
[ As though it needed clarification. ]
[ Peter grimaces, gaze flitting down to the mortar and the paste contained therein. ]
... Why did I call you again?
[ Without any heat, though he plays at a mild sort of resentment. ]
... Why did I call you again?
[ Without any heat, though he plays at a mild sort of resentment. ]
[ At least he doesn't jerk away completely, but she still keeps her hand in place, waiting until he stills again to tentatively feel out the bump. Far from the worst kind of damage, considering how hard they'd hit the ground, and the barest amount of blood is reassuring.
Her fingers map out the size of it, before straying away again, so he doesn't have to keep putting up with the pain of her little exploration. ]
Painkillers and ice. And rest.
[ Her voice is stern, but there's some measure of relief in her tone, too.
... Her fingers also haven't entirely left his hair, cradled carefully around the curve of his skull as she considers him. She almost doesn't realize she's doing it, either, just letting him hold onto her as he recovers his balance, giving him as long as he needs. ]
Just because it could have been worse, doesn't mean this should go unattended.
Her fingers map out the size of it, before straying away again, so he doesn't have to keep putting up with the pain of her little exploration. ]
Painkillers and ice. And rest.
[ Her voice is stern, but there's some measure of relief in her tone, too.
... Her fingers also haven't entirely left his hair, cradled carefully around the curve of his skull as she considers him. She almost doesn't realize she's doing it, either, just letting him hold onto her as he recovers his balance, giving him as long as he needs. ]
Just because it could have been worse, doesn't mean this should go unattended.
[ He grits his teeth as she tests the edges of the injury, a dull throb made worse with each touch, and he doesn't bother to disguise the sigh of relief that escapes him when she seems to be done with her examination.
Any other time, he would freeze with the way she holds onto him, the way her hand still curls around his hair. He'd probably have a small meltdown, start figuring out how best to use the position to his advantage, maybe start a few careful forays into flirtation, for however well that would go over.
But for now, he just takes a deep breath, trying to shove away the dizziness through sheer willpower. ]
Still got work to do.
[ There are probably a few mercenaries still alive. Probably. And they were bound to have valuable information, even if the warrant called for little more than the mercenaries to be dispatched. ]
Any other time, he would freeze with the way she holds onto him, the way her hand still curls around his hair. He'd probably have a small meltdown, start figuring out how best to use the position to his advantage, maybe start a few careful forays into flirtation, for however well that would go over.
But for now, he just takes a deep breath, trying to shove away the dizziness through sheer willpower. ]
Still got work to do.
[ There are probably a few mercenaries still alive. Probably. And they were bound to have valuable information, even if the warrant called for little more than the mercenaries to be dispatched. ]
Yes, but we can handle it.
[ There aren't enough leftover mercenaries to be a legitimate concern; if there were, she wouldn't be maintaining contact with Peter like this. ]
You're no good to us if you fall over every time you stand up.
[ The words aren't sharp or derisive, nor are they an actual criticism — more a statement of fact.
Hand still at his waist, her fingers still in his hair, her thumb absently brushes along the back of his neck; as unsteady as he is, she doesn't seem inclined to move away, and it helps that he hasn't tried to pull any of his usual flirting out of his back pocket. It's strangely easy, the contact, and after denying every opportunity for it, doing her best to avoid being alone with him for weeks, it's... pleasant.
... That's another kind of disconcerting, honestly, and it calls softly back to the confusion she's experienced since the party. ]
You can go sit, Quill.
[ There aren't enough leftover mercenaries to be a legitimate concern; if there were, she wouldn't be maintaining contact with Peter like this. ]
You're no good to us if you fall over every time you stand up.
[ The words aren't sharp or derisive, nor are they an actual criticism — more a statement of fact.
Hand still at his waist, her fingers still in his hair, her thumb absently brushes along the back of his neck; as unsteady as he is, she doesn't seem inclined to move away, and it helps that he hasn't tried to pull any of his usual flirting out of his back pocket. It's strangely easy, the contact, and after denying every opportunity for it, doing her best to avoid being alone with him for weeks, it's... pleasant.
... That's another kind of disconcerting, honestly, and it calls softly back to the confusion she's experienced since the party. ]
You can go sit, Quill.
[ His jaw tightens at that, even if he sees the truth in it. It's just— a temporary thing, he tells himself. He just needs a couple minutes to screw his head on straighter, after having it so thoroughly rattled.
Still, he struggles with the concept, that stupid pride that tells him to make himself useful (Yondu's voice in his head telling him, Men who don't work, don't eat). At last, he forces his eyes open, starts to pull away from Gamora. ]
... Fine. [ There are only a few other ways for him to sound more reluctant. As it is, the word is bitten out between his teeth. ] But just— for a couple minutes.
Still, he struggles with the concept, that stupid pride that tells him to make himself useful (Yondu's voice in his head telling him, Men who don't work, don't eat). At last, he forces his eyes open, starts to pull away from Gamora. ]
... Fine. [ There are only a few other ways for him to sound more reluctant. As it is, the word is bitten out between his teeth. ] But just— for a couple minutes.
[ She doesn't reach for him again when he pulls away, letting her hands drop when he seems steady enough on his own (though there's a brief, quick brush of her fingers over the side of his neck before the contact falls away completely).
He can be as displeased with it as he wants, as long as he goes back to sit down. ]
Until you're steady. [ ... Which comes are more of a correction than an agreement. A couple minutes or until they're ready to leave — it doesn't matter much to the team. The situation has been dealt with, and rounding up the last of the survivors won't be difficult.
She finally steps back to put some distance between them, turning her attention to what remains of the mercenaries, so she can at least get back to figuring out who's alive and who needs to be questioned. ]
He can be as displeased with it as he wants, as long as he goes back to sit down. ]
Until you're steady. [ ... Which comes are more of a correction than an agreement. A couple minutes or until they're ready to leave — it doesn't matter much to the team. The situation has been dealt with, and rounding up the last of the survivors won't be difficult.
She finally steps back to put some distance between them, turning her attention to what remains of the mercenaries, so she can at least get back to figuring out who's alive and who needs to be questioned. ]
[ He chuckles, following Peter’s gaze to the contents of the mortar. He scoops up the small dish with one hand, the other fishing around in his bag for some clean bandages. ]
Could have been the arrow in your back. Or maybe you just missed me.
[ After another few seconds of blind rummaging, Charlie manages to pull another roll of clean bandages from his pack. He came very well prepared for some shit to go down apparently. ]
Seriously though, this shouldn’t sting too badly.
Could have been the arrow in your back. Or maybe you just missed me.
[ After another few seconds of blind rummaging, Charlie manages to pull another roll of clean bandages from his pack. He came very well prepared for some shit to go down apparently. ]
Seriously though, this shouldn’t sting too badly.
Somehow, [ flatly, unimpressed ] I’m not entirely reassured by that.
[ He eyes Charlie’s pack, watches as the guy manages to pull more bandages from it; add that to the herbs he had produced, the tools, and the dressing he had used earlier back in the village, and Peter frowns at him. ]
What were you expectin’ to find when you got here, exactly?
[ He eyes Charlie’s pack, watches as the guy manages to pull more bandages from it; add that to the herbs he had produced, the tools, and the dressing he had used earlier back in the village, and Peter frowns at him. ]
What were you expectin’ to find when you got here, exactly?
[ Peter turns away, then, trudging back to the heavy, metal crates he had been using as cover. Carefully, he lowers himself to the ground, maneuvers himself to sit back against it; the metal is cool against the bump at the back of his head, and he brings up his hands to rub at his temples, trying to lessen the headache throbbing behind his eyes.
It doesn’t really work, and Peter’s “couple minutes” turns into a few handfuls as the team rounds up whoever survived the assault. For a little while, he listens to the chatter over the comms, listens to the team question whoever was left (a little more brusque, a little more brutal than he might have gone for, personally, but he supposes that’s the Guardians’ style when the primitive, sensitive Terran isn’t around to temper them), before the noise starts to drill straight into his head. Peter yanks his helmet attachment from his ear, stuffing it into his pocket.
Jesus. How many times has this made it that Peter was sidelined because of some injury? The Guardians haven’t even been together that long, and he feels like he must spend at least half the time nursing his wounds.
At least he’s not bleeding out this time, he tells himself. He draws up his knees to rest his elbows against them, one hand on his brow to cover his closed eyes. (He doesn’t recall it being quite so bright in here when they got in, but maybe he’s only just now noticing.) ]
It doesn’t really work, and Peter’s “couple minutes” turns into a few handfuls as the team rounds up whoever survived the assault. For a little while, he listens to the chatter over the comms, listens to the team question whoever was left (a little more brusque, a little more brutal than he might have gone for, personally, but he supposes that’s the Guardians’ style when the primitive, sensitive Terran isn’t around to temper them), before the noise starts to drill straight into his head. Peter yanks his helmet attachment from his ear, stuffing it into his pocket.
Jesus. How many times has this made it that Peter was sidelined because of some injury? The Guardians haven’t even been together that long, and he feels like he must spend at least half the time nursing his wounds.
At least he’s not bleeding out this time, he tells himself. He draws up his knees to rest his elbows against them, one hand on his brow to cover his closed eyes. (He doesn’t recall it being quite so bright in here when they got in, but maybe he’s only just now noticing.) ]
[ He shifts back around to get behind Peter, carefully mopping up the rivulets of blood that have seeped out of the wound while they’ve been talking. ]
In all honesty? I expected to find you in trouble. I didn’t think you’d use the whistle just on a whim.
[ After so long, he didn’t think Peter would use the whistle at all. ]
But I always keep a bag packed like this, in case I had to run again.
Ready?
In all honesty? I expected to find you in trouble. I didn’t think you’d use the whistle just on a whim.
[ After so long, he didn’t think Peter would use the whistle at all. ]
But I always keep a bag packed like this, in case I had to run again.
Ready?
[ As practical as that sounds, the fact that Charlie even has to think that far ahead is— kind of sad, if Peter were honest. It means that a year and a half isn’t enough to fully distance the guy from his old life, even with the pains the two of them took to throw his family off Charlie’s trail. Or else it means Charlie’s been living with that constant worry at the back of his mind.
He’s not sure which of those options are worse, but either way, it means the Maxwell family has been haunting Charlie wherever he went, imagined or not.
He tenses as Charlie settles in behind him – not because of the wound (though that’s its own problem), but because Charlie’s positioning puts the Mark directly in his line of sight, makes Peter feel exposed in a way he hates. He rolls his shoulders in discomfort, as if that might shake off the blemish. And despite Charlie’s earlier reassurances, Peter can’t quite bring himself to turn around and look at him to see what might be on his face.
Instead, he keeps his gaze fixed on his lap, offers a tight nod. ]
Ready as I’ll ever be.
He’s not sure which of those options are worse, but either way, it means the Maxwell family has been haunting Charlie wherever he went, imagined or not.
He tenses as Charlie settles in behind him – not because of the wound (though that’s its own problem), but because Charlie’s positioning puts the Mark directly in his line of sight, makes Peter feel exposed in a way he hates. He rolls his shoulders in discomfort, as if that might shake off the blemish. And despite Charlie’s earlier reassurances, Peter can’t quite bring himself to turn around and look at him to see what might be on his face.
Instead, he keeps his gaze fixed on his lap, offers a tight nod. ]
Ready as I’ll ever be.
[ Gamora and Drax have the benefit of being terrifying on their own, but they certainly don't have Peter's people skills. He can usually smooth talk their quarry out of their information without needing to resort to the same kind of intimidation and tactless demands that the others opt for. They still get results, even if there's a few broken bones by the end of it, but when it's over, they put in a call to have the leftovers picked up. They'll be compensated for it soon enough, and that seems to be the end of the rest of the team's concerns.
After they've finished, Gamora finds her way back to where she'd left Peter. She only hesitates for a moment before approaching him, going to sit on the ground beside him.
She doesn't speak at first, looking out across the bunker. ]
Are you ready to leave?
After they've finished, Gamora finds her way back to where she'd left Peter. She only hesitates for a moment before approaching him, going to sit on the ground beside him.
She doesn't speak at first, looking out across the bunker. ]
Are you ready to leave?
[ It doesn’t escape Charlie’s notice the way that Peter keeps flexing and twitching whenever Charlie’s behind him, and he supposes bone-deep shame and fear over the Mark on his back must be a hard thing to shake after keeping it hidden for so long.
He still hasn’t worked out whether it would be a good thing to say anything or not.
He scoops the paste out of the mortar with his fingers- it’s cool and a little grainy to the touch- and carefully slathers it on the red, angry skin around Peter’s wound, before smearing it over the wound itself, readying himself in case Peter jumps.
Charlie might have downplayed how much it was going to sting.
But he knows from experience, the sharp sting is only momentary, giving way to a tingling, almost numbing sensation. Once he’s emptied the contents of his bowl, leaving a greenish-purplish patch of paste on Peter’s back, he wipes his fingers clean and secures a fresh bandage around Peter’s middle. ]
Try not to move much, if you can help it. That needs some time to sit.
He still hasn’t worked out whether it would be a good thing to say anything or not.
He scoops the paste out of the mortar with his fingers- it’s cool and a little grainy to the touch- and carefully slathers it on the red, angry skin around Peter’s wound, before smearing it over the wound itself, readying himself in case Peter jumps.
Charlie might have downplayed how much it was going to sting.
But he knows from experience, the sharp sting is only momentary, giving way to a tingling, almost numbing sensation. Once he’s emptied the contents of his bowl, leaving a greenish-purplish patch of paste on Peter’s back, he wipes his fingers clean and secures a fresh bandage around Peter’s middle. ]
Try not to move much, if you can help it. That needs some time to sit.
[ His entire body jerks away from Charlie’s touch, once the salve brushes into the wound, and he lets out a single, loud, ]
Fuck—
[ in response, startled and strained. It’s just as well that Charlie was ready for it, because without Charlie to keep him in place, Peter likely would’ve bolted away. Eventually, the bite of pain fades into something like pins and needles, prickly and cold, and he heaves out a long breath. ]
“Shouldn’t sting.” [ He repeats it back scornfully, making a scoffing noise, though he lifts his arms to allow Charlie to wrap the bandage around his waist again. ] You’re a giant liar.
Fuck—
[ in response, startled and strained. It’s just as well that Charlie was ready for it, because without Charlie to keep him in place, Peter likely would’ve bolted away. Eventually, the bite of pain fades into something like pins and needles, prickly and cold, and he heaves out a long breath. ]
“Shouldn’t sting.” [ He repeats it back scornfully, making a scoffing noise, though he lifts his arms to allow Charlie to wrap the bandage around his waist again. ] You’re a giant liar.
[ Peter doesn’t move as Gamora settles in beside him, and he only bothers to lift his head at her question. He almost looks a little startled, even, squinting at their surroundings with bleary eyes. ]
We’re done?
[ Croaked out.
Sure enough, he sees the still-breathing assassins huddled in a corner, being harried by a small mammal with a giant gun and a small bonsai with a guileless smile. Peter would laugh at the image, except without the adrenaline pulsing through him, the dull throb in his head becomes far more persistent, makes doing anything but sitting quietly sound like a bad time.
But it also means Peter was just having nap time while everyone else did all the work, and he grimaces. ]
Dammit.
We’re done?
[ Croaked out.
Sure enough, he sees the still-breathing assassins huddled in a corner, being harried by a small mammal with a giant gun and a small bonsai with a guileless smile. Peter would laugh at the image, except without the adrenaline pulsing through him, the dull throb in his head becomes far more persistent, makes doing anything but sitting quietly sound like a bad time.
But it also means Peter was just having nap time while everyone else did all the work, and he grimaces. ]
Dammit.
[ Peter grumbles under his breath at the correction. It is fully possible he utters the phrase, “splitting hairs.” At Charlie’s question, though, he tugs his own satchel closer, cringes when he realizes most of the contents of his bag boast a smear of blood from when he had rummaged through earlier. ]
Crap.
[ Bitten out softly, barely voiced. There’s little to be done about it now, though, and he pulls out a crumpled shirt with only a small blood stain on it. He tugs it on, regardless, the stain somewhere on the shoulder, and self-consciously adjusts the collar, lifting it to hide the last remnants of the Mark from view. ]
Where’d you learn all this stuff?
[ With a nod toward Charlie’s bag. ]
Crap.
[ Bitten out softly, barely voiced. There’s little to be done about it now, though, and he pulls out a crumpled shirt with only a small blood stain on it. He tugs it on, regardless, the stain somewhere on the shoulder, and self-consciously adjusts the collar, lifting it to hide the last remnants of the Mark from view. ]
Where’d you learn all this stuff?
[ With a nod toward Charlie’s bag. ]
[ Charlie just shrugs. Peter was the one who called him a liar, and Charlie simply felt the need to correct him.
Ah. He makes a mental note that they’ll have to find a river or a lake later to take care of Peter’s things. For now, he lets Peter tug a shirt on, because the last thing he wants is for Peter to feel exposed thanks to the Mark on his back. ]
I’ve been slumming it as an apothecary for the last year and some change. You have no idea how many books on herbs I had to read.
Ah. He makes a mental note that they’ll have to find a river or a lake later to take care of Peter’s things. For now, he lets Peter tug a shirt on, because the last thing he wants is for Peter to feel exposed thanks to the Mark on his back. ]
I’ve been slumming it as an apothecary for the last year and some change. You have no idea how many books on herbs I had to read.
It's fine, Quill.
[ No one's bothered that he had to sit out for this part; they handled it just fine, after all.
(The team at large is concerned with the fact that he's okay. They seem to fall apart more than just a little when he isn't.) ]
The difficult part was already over.
[ He helped get them through the battle, and that's the important thing, as far as she's concerned.
She hesitates before she asks her next question, but: ]
... Are you all right?
[ No one's bothered that he had to sit out for this part; they handled it just fine, after all.
(The team at large is concerned with the fact that he's okay. They seem to fall apart more than just a little when he isn't.) ]
The difficult part was already over.
[ He helped get them through the battle, and that's the important thing, as far as she's concerned.
She hesitates before she asks her next question, but: ]
... Are you all right?
Not sure if “slumming it” is the phrase I’d use, if I were your position.
[ He says it light, at least, as he carefully sits back against the curved wall of the tree trunk. It’s awkward, maneuvering himself slightly to one side to keep from putting pressure on the freshly dressed wound, but he keeps himself facing forward to address Charlie directly. ]
You’ve been alright, though? No surprises? [ This, too, comes out blandly, though he studies Charlie carefully. What he’s really asking is, Any unpleasant run-ins, lately? ]
Aside from today, obviously.
[ He says it light, at least, as he carefully sits back against the curved wall of the tree trunk. It’s awkward, maneuvering himself slightly to one side to keep from putting pressure on the freshly dressed wound, but he keeps himself facing forward to address Charlie directly. ]
You’ve been alright, though? No surprises? [ This, too, comes out blandly, though he studies Charlie carefully. What he’s really asking is, Any unpleasant run-ins, lately? ]
Aside from today, obviously.
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