[ But, admittedly, even if it didn't necessarily mean time with Peter, she'd still enjoy another day not being crammed into her tiny ship with the others.
She shifts to lie more properly against him, rearranging herself and tucking her face against his neck to nuzzle in close. ]
[ He rests his hand on the back of her head, pausing to enjoy the heated brush of her breath against his neck, the quick, ticklish sensation of her lashes against his skin. ]
Seems counterproductive, considering we just discussed saving up for a ship.
[ Of course, he says that, but his tone is light, unconcerned. An extra night in a hotel is hardly going to break the bank, they both know. It'll be no worse than whatever surprise expenses are sure to fall into their path. ]
[ This is genuinely unfamiliar to Gamora; she's never hung around for long after one of her trysts, but with Peter, she doesn't want to get any farther from him than this.
She hums absently, though she doesn't sound convinced. ]
[ In that tone of voice that implies that they cannot, in fact, stay in this bed for the entire duration of their stay, as tempting as that might seem.
He pauses, running a hand along the line of her arm. She seems comfortable like this, and there's— still something a little strange about it all, that she could manage to feel so relaxed around him. If anyone else knew as much about his past as Gamora does, he imagines they would feel like spending time alone with him, let alone in such an intimate setting, must feel like sitting in a room with a ticking time bomb.
He shoves the thought aside, pressing a gentle kiss to her brow. ]
It's probably too much to hope they've gone to bed.
[ In all likelihood, they've found their own way to some dive bars and are currently drinking their spending money away. It does seem to be the majority of the Guardians' favored pastime.
He cards through her hair again, taking the time to appreciate how soft her curls feel as they slip through his fingers. He catches on a few tangles, likely caused by what they've gotten up to tonight, and gently works them out. ]
But his fingers are playing with her hair, and she smiles softly as he works out the light snags, her eyes sliding closed as she enjoys the attention. It's so gentle, diligent, and... sweet. ]
You could braid my hair, if you want to keep it out of the way.
[ And he asks it simply, continuing to gently comb through her hair. He likes the feel of it, how soft and cool the strands are when they slip through his fingers.
He pauses in his attentions, though, letting his hand rest lightly on the nape of her neck. ]
[ He relaxes a little with the gesture, with the reassurance, and after only another blink of hesitation, he continues on as he was, fingers threading through her hair. ]
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[ They could probably find something, but Gamora hasn't arranged anything immediate, if only because there was nothing in close range. ]
We have to be at the Farlot station in three cycles, but that's all.
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[ Short, pensive, though not in any genuine way. His other hand runs along her back, fingertips tracing the curve of her spine. ]
The others might appreciate the extra time to stretch their legs.
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[ But, admittedly, even if it didn't necessarily mean time with Peter, she'd still enjoy another day not being crammed into her tiny ship with the others.
She shifts to lie more properly against him, rearranging herself and tucking her face against his neck to nuzzle in close. ]
We could buy another night here.
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Seems counterproductive, considering we just discussed saving up for a ship.
[ Of course, he says that, but his tone is light, unconcerned. An extra night in a hotel is hardly going to break the bank, they both know. It'll be no worse than whatever surprise expenses are sure to fall into their path. ]
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She hums absently, though she doesn't sound convinced. ]
One more night won't make a dent in our savings.
And besides, the time will be worth it.
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Then, ]
Fine. One more night.
I don't think we can get away with much more than that, though.
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[ There's only so long the others can be trusted on their own.
Gamora finds herself drawing small patterns on Peter's shoulder, following scars with utmost care – and a bit of fascination. ]
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In fairness to the others, they did manage to take care of themselves before they met us.
[ A pause. Then, ]
But, yes. You're probably right.
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[ By breaking out of prison or living on a planet with one other person or living with family and then prison.
It's not a wonderful track record. ]
We can let them know whenever we eventually get out of this bed.
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[ In that tone of voice that implies that they cannot, in fact, stay in this bed for the entire duration of their stay, as tempting as that might seem.
He pauses, running a hand along the line of her arm. She seems comfortable like this, and there's— still something a little strange about it all, that she could manage to feel so relaxed around him. If anyone else knew as much about his past as Gamora does, he imagines they would feel like spending time alone with him, let alone in such an intimate setting, must feel like sitting in a room with a ticking time bomb.
He shoves the thought aside, pressing a gentle kiss to her brow. ]
It can wait till morning.
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They probably wouldn't answer now, anyway.
[ Who knows what they've gotten into in the time they've already had? ]
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[ In all likelihood, they've found their own way to some dive bars and are currently drinking their spending money away. It does seem to be the majority of the Guardians' favored pastime.
He cards through her hair again, taking the time to appreciate how soft her curls feel as they slip through his fingers. He catches on a few tangles, likely caused by what they've gotten up to tonight, and gently works them out. ]
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[ They both know how the Guardians can be.
But his fingers are playing with her hair, and she smiles softly as he works out the light snags, her eyes sliding closed as she enjoys the attention. It's so gentle, diligent, and... sweet. ]
You could braid my hair, if you want to keep it out of the way.
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[ And he asks it simply, continuing to gently comb through her hair. He likes the feel of it, how soft and cool the strands are when they slip through his fingers.
He pauses in his attentions, though, letting his hand rest lightly on the nape of her neck. ]
Is it bothering you?
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No; it's just a mess.
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I like it how it is.