[ It really is sweet, he thinks, and for a brief second, he feels a pang of nostalgia, for the women in his past that had come and gone.
And he thinks of his bright, shining river lily and her dazzling smile. All those days they spent together, all the songs she taught him, all the dances they danced together. There had been a short time where he considered – honestly, truly considered – staying with her, living a life with her. Of living on her quaint, backwards planet and spending there rest of her mortal life with her.
It was a dangerous temptation, to spend all those years on Earth, to waste all those decades when he needed to work. He turned his back on it the only way he knew how.
Peter, though.
Peter had been well and truly tempted. Peter had surrendered to it. The boy was too weak, in the end, had been too mortal. It was Peter's fault they failed, obviously, but he couldn't truly be blamed. The boy had been entrenched in the mortal life, had been raised by thieves and criminals. Of course he was going to falter. If Ego had just gotten his son sooner, they would have never been reduced to this.
But he'll learn, eventually. He can be molded into the man Ego knows he can be. Once Ego can get the boy away from these people, they can start over again. Be a family.
Ego just needs to bide his time and get them there.
He cups her cheek, his thumb sweeping over her green skin, avoiding that silver scar. ]
[ It's strange, how distinctly she notices the way Ego avoids her scars – imperfections, measurements of mortality and weakness – while Peter had always been reverent with them. She didn't understand (still doesn't, really) why he'd trace them so diligently, but somehow, Peter had loved those marked parts of her as much as he did the stretches of unblemished skin.
But she can feel Ego's thumb skirt under the gouges in her face, the stark silver under green.
Sweetheart.
Her stomach turns, but her soft and perfectly drowsy smile stays in place. She nods sleepily, reaching up to hold Ego's palm to her cheek. ]
[ He feels another pang – sentiment, for days gone by, for those bright little memories of his time spent with so many lovely people – and nods.
He pulls away from her, then, freeing his hand to rest on his chest. He settles a little more comfortably on the bed, rolling onto his back but turning his head toward her. ]
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And he thinks of his bright, shining river lily and her dazzling smile. All those days they spent together, all the songs she taught him, all the dances they danced together. There had been a short time where he considered – honestly, truly considered – staying with her, living a life with her. Of living on her quaint, backwards planet and spending there rest of her mortal life with her.
It was a dangerous temptation, to spend all those years on Earth, to waste all those decades when he needed to work. He turned his back on it the only way he knew how.
Peter, though.
Peter had been well and truly tempted. Peter had surrendered to it. The boy was too weak, in the end, had been too mortal. It was Peter's fault they failed, obviously, but he couldn't truly be blamed. The boy had been entrenched in the mortal life, had been raised by thieves and criminals. Of course he was going to falter. If Ego had just gotten his son sooner, they would have never been reduced to this.
But he'll learn, eventually. He can be molded into the man Ego knows he can be. Once Ego can get the boy away from these people, they can start over again. Be a family.
Ego just needs to bide his time and get them there.
He cups her cheek, his thumb sweeping over her green skin, avoiding that silver scar. ]
I am.
Don't worry, sweetheart. I'm perfectly fine.
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But she can feel Ego's thumb skirt under the gouges in her face, the stark silver under green.
Sweetheart.
Her stomach turns, but her soft and perfectly drowsy smile stays in place. She nods sleepily, reaching up to hold Ego's palm to her cheek. ]
You should get back to sleep, too. You need it.
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He pulls away from her, then, freeing his hand to rest on his chest. He settles a little more comfortably on the bed, rolling onto his back but turning his head toward her. ]
I will. Don't you worry about me.
Get back to sleep.