[ The trek back to the ship is spent mostly bickering, save for the times when all of them are engrossed with avoiding or disabling whatever few traps they couldn’t avoid. Peter is a little more sluggish than he was before, and more than once Drax has to yank him aside, or Rocket has to take point in disabling whatever tech they find. He tries to tell himself it’s not a big deal, even though it feels like a big fucking deal, and despite Gamora’s earlier reassurances, Peter’s back to gritting his teeth once they board the Milano.
It hardly helps when Rocket drags up the only minutes old argument, insisting on piloting as they climb to the flight deck
(“Like hell am I trustin’ you with this ship when you’ve got a dent in that thick skull of yours. You can barely pilot on a good day, Quill. You’ll definitely kill us when you ain’t seein’ straight.”
To which Peter had cleverly replied, “I will flush you down the goddamn toilet, you piece of—” before Drax finally dragged him out of the cockpit.)
But Rocket wins, in the end, and once Drax deposits him in his room with strict instructions to rest, Peter flops down in his bed, crossing his arms over his chest.
He is almost certainly sulking.
But his head pounds in time with his heartbeat, and even the dim light of his room pierces straight through his eyes. By the time Gamora finds him, his eyes are covered with his hand again, his other hand rubbing small circles at his temple. ]
no subject
It hardly helps when Rocket drags up the only minutes old argument, insisting on piloting as they climb to the flight deck
(“Like hell am I trustin’ you with this ship when you’ve got a dent in that thick skull of yours. You can barely pilot on a good day, Quill. You’ll definitely kill us when you ain’t seein’ straight.”
To which Peter had cleverly replied, “I will flush you down the goddamn toilet, you piece of—” before Drax finally dragged him out of the cockpit.)
But Rocket wins, in the end, and once Drax deposits him in his room with strict instructions to rest, Peter flops down in his bed, crossing his arms over his chest.
He is almost certainly sulking.
But his head pounds in time with his heartbeat, and even the dim light of his room pierces straight through his eyes. By the time Gamora finds him, his eyes are covered with his hand again, his other hand rubbing small circles at his temple. ]