[ Peter’s expression pinches at the mention of rest (again), and his lips part to protest. Rocket beats him to it, though, and rather than complain (again), Peter’s gaze snaps up to the asshole in question, and he flinches. His stomach flips a little, color inching up his neck when he realizes how the two of them must look. He cuts a glance over to Gamora with wide, startled eyes, before he compulsively rocks back to put distance between them. ]
We’re not— There isn’t— She’s not— We aren’t—
[ And he flounders for another second or two, doing his best impression of a fish out of water, before he scowls, stomping forward. ]
no subject
We’re not— There isn’t— She’s not— We aren’t—
[ And he flounders for another second or two, doing his best impression of a fish out of water, before he scowls, stomping forward. ]
Shut up, Rocket!
[ Rocket only answers by snickering. ]