nostalgiabomb | open post, vol. 2

[ The nightmares don't come again.

Gamora initially prepares herself for them, braces herself for what had become so commonplace after their first encounter with N'Calo. The nightmares had been getting progressively worse, and she almost expects them to continue doing so, but— they don't. Even the nights spent in her own bunk instead of Peter's bed she finds to be no more dramatic than before, and she doesn't feel trapped, helpless, or weak again in her sleep. Bad dreams come and bad dreams go, but the terrors that had rooted themselves in her mind thanks to N'Calo's influence don't drag her into their depths again.

She's sure that it helps when she spends most of her nights in Peter's bed. She's taken to falling asleep there more often than her own bunk in the coming weeks (though a day or two will pass when she finds quiet and comfortable solitude in her own room). It's becoming... nearly a habit, after what approaches their second week since they dealt with N'Calo. She'd been doing it for longer before then, of course, after that night in the motel, but the difference now is that she no longer sneaks out before the day cycle arrives. Instead, she sleeps through the night, waking often before Peter or when he does, and she even seems content to lie with him for a few moments in his large bed, legs tangled together, fingers winding into his messy hair as she appreciates the way he looks with sleep still clinging to his eyes.

(Though his breath is atrocious, she informs him one morning, before she slides out of the bed to return to her own bunk and change into proper clothes.)

She likes it, she's discovered, and simply finds herself at ease around Peter, even in his bed. Without pressure or expectations, it's easy, but— She also realizes she has no idea what any of it means.

Talking still hasn't quite happened, but that's easy to attribute to the workload they suddenly find heaped onto them. The Nova Corps has work for them to see to, and a couple quick bounties prove to be too convenient to pass up. They work to make up for the time spent dealing with N'Calo and the units expended on all of their travel, and falling back into a rhythm happens with the same ease as always. Unfortunately, it always means that the team drags their carcasses back onto the ship after the second bounty of the week, and they're simply exhausted.

It leaves little time to discuss their situation when all either of them wants to do is collapse into bed.

... The biggest downside of neglecting such a conversation, however, is that Gamora isn't entirely sure what to make of what it all means, and she has no answers to offer when Mantis catches her leaving Peter's room one morning.

Mantis blinks wide, curious eyes at her as she pauses in the hall, looking between Gamora and the door to the captain's quarters. "Do you sleep in his room because you are together?" she asks, with an air of innocence that doesn't necessarily feel like prying.

Gamora pauses, seeming to consider her response, and then she simply frowns, shaking her head at Mantis. "It's... a thing." Not necessarily an unspoken thing, though she supposes it could once again be defined as such, because they haven't discussed this part of the thing. She has kissed him and they share a bed, but... what else it might mean still exists in that strange void of understanding, where she simply doesn't know how to define what they are or what boundaries might entail for them or what it all may build towards.

She knows that she wants more – whatever that may mean – but she still isn't entirely certain what Peter is looking for. There's been no insistence, no nudges in one direction or another, but she's also convinced that Peter knows by now to mind himself with her, whether for better or for worse. She feels no pressure to reach a decision, and though he's allowed her to come to it in her own time... she thinks she has, but she has no frame of reference, nothing to draw from to define it for herself.

She doesn't want to find herself neck-deep in something with hopes and expectations that Peter may not be interested in – and she also has no desire to ruin what they already have. Peter is her friend, her best friend, and the depth of that connection and intimacy is something she has never before known in her life. She would never trade it for something temporary or fleeting, when she feels most confident that the friendship itself is solid. This is a new variable, an unfamiliar twist in the schema of their interactions, and...

She doesn't want to get hurt.

And she doesn't want to hurt him.

Figuring all of this out, trying to be open about what they want – that's likely why they should have this conversation.

Sooner rather than later.

But in the manner that seems to be expected for the Guardians, things get in the way.

A job from the Nova Corps has them flying across the system to deal with some small-time drug dealer peddling something called Dust – an inhalant with the unfortunate guarantee to give the user a sudden burst of unreasonable strength and temporary invulnerability. Understandably, an inconvenience for the Nova Corps when it finds its way into the hands of criminals foolish enough to take the drug and commit whatever crimes they see fit.

Taking care of this particular drug dealer should be simple – which, as usual, is not a phrase that should ever enter the Guardians' vocabulary.

Peter and Gamora go in first. It means rousting the drug dealer from his safehouse, in the far reaches of some warehouse district on a Lorakian moon. Lorak itself isn't the most welcoming of planets, and its moons are nearly all industrial, built on factories and machinery, and so crowded and packed with steel that it makes for a convenient location to hide away in between stints of selling Dust. The dealer chose well, if Gamora were inclined to give him credit, but it also means that the cityscape made almost entirely of factories is packed tightly together with small streets and plenty of places to hide – and that makes their job difficult.

With Gamora covering Peter's back, they find themselves easing into a warehouse so quiet Gamora can hear the grinding of gears and firing of pistons literal buildings away.

It's quiet.

Too quiet.

Gamora is checking every potential corner, and then—

The shooting starts.

Gamora reaches out on instinct to grab Peter by the collar of his jacket and yank him behind cover, just as a rain of bullets peppers the ground where they were just standing. ]

And there's more of them.

[ She growls in annoyance as gunfire hits their cover from multiple angles, and instead of reaching for Godslayer, she swings around the rifle slung over her back. They're pinned down, and attempting to burst out of cover for melee combat would not be her best choice.

Fortunately, they both do guns now. ]

[ It’s not that Peter doesn’t want to talk about it – because he does. He really does. He’s going insane trying to figure out where he stands in relation to the weird thing growing (festering?) between them. He knows what he wants – her – and he knows nothing can happen until they damn well talk about it, but—

Things keep happening. Which is to be expected when a guy and his friends become interplanetary heroes – you get called on for your services a lot. Those services typically involve a healthy (unhealthy?) dose of violence, but, hey. Don’t fix what ain’t broken, right?

Gamora keeps showing up in his room, which is fine. And sometimes, after particularly exhausting jobs, they wordlessly slog into the captain’s quarters together, flopping into bed and letting sleep claim them. And it’s not that it’s not nice (because it’s so nice), and it’s not that he doesn’t enjoy it (because it’s awesome falling asleep wrapped in warmth and occasionally waking up in the same way). It’s that it’s confusing as hell, because it’s a sort of intimacy Peter’s never experienced before. In his head, everything about it screams sexual, because that’s all he knows; he’s seen romance in movies and TV and fairy tales, know what happily-ever-afters are supposed to look like in ideal situations, but all he’s done are quick, meaningless flings and one-night stands.

Falling into bed together? Usually sexual.

Falling into bed with Gamora? Not.

(Though not for lack of wanting, on Peter’s part.)

And that’s fine, really. It’s more than fine. Despite what the others might think, despite his track record to date, Peter does not need everything to lead to sex. But he still prefers some kind of structure, something concrete, so he can know where the hell this is going. Are they a couple? Are they not a couple? Are they working up to being a couple, or is this— it? This weird, in-between phase, where they dance around the idea of what they might be without ever giving it a name?

Peter wants more, because of course he does. He’s greedy and selfish, and after the shit with Ego, after losing Yondu, all he wants is to latch onto the people who mean the most to him and never let go. But that doesn’t mean he wants to force Gamora into anything she’s not comfortable with, so he keeps his mouth shut, forces himself to slow down to a crawl for her sake.

Peter wants Gamora. But if Gamora doesn’t want Peter— then at least he’d like to know so he can lick his wounds and try to move on.

It's bewildering. It’s frustrating. But there’s no time, never a good moment. And whenever Drax shoots him these weird looks, glancing between him and Gamora during mealtimes, Peter wants to slap Drax across the face and tell him to cut that shit out. That whatever Drax thinks he knows is wrong, because Peter and Gamora barely know what’s going on between them.

The moon smells of exhaust and ash, of metal and oil and smoke, and the instant they step foot on it, Peter deploys his newly remade mask, saving himself from sucking down lungfuls of smoke. The warehouse isn’t much better, when they step in, and Peter keeps both guns on hand, watching every shadow like it might jump to life at any moment.

When the report of gunfire rings out, Peter jerks to move out of the way – but it’s never quite fast enough. Luckily for him, Gamora is faster, and she yanks him into the cover of a solid, metal shipping crate. Bullets and plasma blasts hit the crate, pinging off every side except the one they’ve hunkered down behind, and Peter hisses out a swear. ]

I thought this guy was supposed to be bush-league?

[ Shouted over the gunfire. He’s waiting for the right moment to peek around cover and get his bearings, but the barrage is near constant, so far, and there’s little to do but wait.

Well. Wait, and hope that nothing gets through the crate, or that no one has the bright idea of firing on them from above. ]

Well, it looks like he has friends.

[ Her tone is aggravated, words coming through grit teeth as she keeps her back plastered to the shipping crate. The crate shakes with a particularly big plasma blast, and the smell of something burning is enough to make it clear that shot ate away at some of their cover.

Delightful.

She edges towards the corner of the crate, paying close attention to her ear to pinpoint the direction of one of the shooters – and she does so quickly enough that when she leans around the crate, she sites and fires in the space of a heartbeat.

... Unfortunately, that's all she has time for, but the sound of a body tumbling down to the ground greets her with a loud "thump!" as she reels back around the crate. Fortunately, it's also just enough of an opportunity for her to get eyes on a few of their other opponents. ]

There are two behind the crate directly ahead – one with the plasma cannon.

A what?

[ Incredulously, because who the hell brings a plasma cannon?

That guy, apparently, and the crate they’re kneeling behind rocks with another impact. Peter takes his chance as the guy is reloading, firing blindly around the corner as a distraction. He doesn’t hit anyone, but it’s enough to scatter a few of their opponents, and the momentary halt in the enemy’s fire means their cover will last them just a little while longer.

All the same— ]

We can’t stay here.

[ Gamora braces herself as the next blast shakes the crate again, glancing over at Peter. ]

I am open to suggestions.

[ He's right, though; they need to get moving and find better cover. Something less likely to be blasted apart by that cannon, if she's allowed to have a preference.

There's a distant whirring sound, followed by a "click!" and a low swear.

She seizes the moment to swing around the corner and fire, though with far less precision than before. The assailants scatter, and Gamora ducks back behind the crate. ]

[ Peter darts out of cover at the same moment, and when Gamora’s shots send their enemies scrambling, Peter manages to take one out with a few well-aimed blasts. It’s not the guy with the cannon, which Peter was hoping for, but that guy seems to have hunkered down, troubleshooting the weapon. The others regroup, however, and another hail of gunfire signals Peter’s hasty retreat back to their cover. ]

I can draw their fire?

[ Playing bait was a common job for him, back with the Ravagers. ]

You can pick them off.

[ Gamora isn't immediately certain how much she approves of this plan, but— at least it's a plan. She gives short, frustrated noise in the back of her throat (not disagreeing, but not necessarily enthusiastic), and she cocks the plasma rifle, shouldering it with a sharp nod. ]

Keep your head down and do not get shot.

[ They've been fortunate enough to avoid any serious gunshot wounds lately, but that doesn't mean they're due for more. ]

On your count.

You act like I'm trying to get shot on the regular.

[ In reality, he's never trying. It just happens.

All the same, he moves to the edge of their cover, both guns ready. Their enemies continue to pepper the metal shipping crate, and judging by how long it's been going, Peter has to figure they're nearing the ends of their clips.

He looks to Gamora, counting down from three, and when he reaches one, he surges out of cover, firing as he goes. The other men shout as Peter darts out, redirecting their attention to him, but he's just ahead of them, keeping out of the line of fire. ]

[ In circumstances far less dire, Gamora might take the moment to inform Peter that he's practically a magnet when it comes to bullets, but focusing on her shots is far more crucial than arguing with him.

(For now.)

With her rifle at the ready, she waits bare seconds after Peter darts out from behind the shipping crate, using their enemies' split attention to sight a first, second, and third gunner. After the three blasts claim their targets, Gamora moves quickly outside of her own cover to follow after Peter. The constant hail of bullets has subsided, and the few still left have taken cover of their own – though Gamora fires precisely at their hiding spots to remind them that she knows where they ended up.

She's quick to duck behind another crate, closer to Peter but a few paces away.

She glances over to him as she plasters her back against her cover, taking a moment to check over her own rifle. ]

Four left – as long as they don't call in reinforcements. Though at this point, I'm not convinced their aim is worth anything.

[ Look, no bullet holes!

When Peter finds his way to new cover, he pops up briefly, laying down a bit of cover fire as Gamora makes her way over. Once Gamora is safely behind something, Peter ducks back down, catching his breath.

At Gamora's words, he scowls behind his mask. ]

C'mon, man. Do you seriously need to tempt fate like that? Saying that kinda shit is just inviting bad luck.

And you shouldn't rely on luck to win a battle.

[ Though some days it seems that they make it through whatever the galaxy tosses at them by sheer random chance alone. The odds are never in their favor, and yet, somehow, they emerge victorious more often than they probably should.

That feels particularly apt after their most recent run-in with N'Calo.

Gamora takes the opportunity to carefully peer around her cover—

—only to be greeted by another blast from the plasma cannon.

She leans immediately back around in time to avoid catching her hair in the shot, keeping her head down with a low growl. ]

If we deal with the plasma cannon next, the others should be easy enough to pick off. We can't give him the opportunity to keep firing.

[ He makes a scoffing noise. ]

I don't rely on it. It just helps.

[ The fwoom of the cannon catches Peter's attention, and curses when Gamora jerks away from the blast. ]

Same deal? Draw his fire, give you the chance to pick him off?

[ Another quick nod as she readies her rifle. ]

Try making it to that wall there.

[ She jerks her chin in the direction ahead of them, indicating the next ideal piece of cover. ]

If you can—

[ She stops short as her rifle whirrs in protest when she cocks the hammer, and she looks immediately down to the display sight. Another whining sound, a catch, and then a bright red error shows across the sight's holo screen.

Just what they need.

She reflexively ducks again with another blast of the plasma cannon, this time taking a corner of her cover with it. This isn't the right location to waste time, and Gamora discards the rifle, reaching for Godslayer instead. ]

Change of plan. I'll draw their fire, you aim for him as soon as you get a clear shot.

[ Peter's nodding at her direction, rolling his shoulders to prepare himself to run, but—

He knows that sound, and he glances over at her gun, at the glow of red on the screen, and Peter heaves out a sigh. ]

You seriously need to stop using that model. I keep telling you they jam any chance they get.

[ But that's the only complaint he offers, and he nods again, maneuvering himself into a better position to fire. ]

Ready when you are.

Maybe if we would get better guns, I wouldn't have to use it.

[ Fortunately, Gamora doesn't need a gun to be deadly; they just usually have more blasting power on hand, but with only the two of them to provide ranged cover fire, it makes darting into the battlefield with so many more guns unappealing.

But they've narrowed it down significantly, so Gamora is much more confident that throwing herself into the fray will be – if not safer – manageable.

(But, then again, bringing a knife to a gunfight isn't unfamiliar to her in the slightest.)

She lifts herself into position, muscles coiled, ready to spring, and as she extends her arm and Godslayer in one fluid motion, she meets the red eyes of Peter's mask.

Three... two... one...

— And she's off.

She throws herself out of their cover, quick enough that the remaining gunners don't immediately realize she's moved into the open. That brief reprieve doesn't last long, but it's still nearly laughable how they continue to miss her; however, poor aim matched against Gamora's enhanced speed does not make for a terribly fair fight. ]

[ It's lucky as hell that they're facing down a bunch of thugs, he thinks. Peter knows Gamora can handle herself, knows all too well how lethal she can be, and he has confidence she'll see this through.

As she's distracting them, Peter waits for his moment, waits for the asshole with the plasma cannon to move out of cover to make his shot. The cannon whirs to life, inner mechanisms spinning as the shot charges, glowing an angry red, and Peter fires. A blast of electricity to make him seize; a blast of sparking plasma at the asshole's hands to make him drop the weapon. A final shot of both straight into his head to drop him.

After that, it's a matter of picking off the rest. Peter moves out of cover, moving forward to help with the couple of dickwads remaining. ]

[ As much as Gamora may concern herself with Peter's well-being, she knows full well that he can handle himself in a fight. He's admirably capable, which is why when it comes to taking down the goon with the cannon, she doesn't even glance back to check on Peter. Instead, she barrels forward, drawing the attention of the gunmen, and by the time they realize what's happening, the cannon is out of commission and Gamora is rounding on them with Godslayer.

She reaches two of them, using her blade to spear a man through his sternum, and in the same motion, spinning the body towards the other thug to send it flying off of her sword and into his partner. They both hit the ground in a pool of blood, and though the second gunner groans under the weight of the first (now surely dead) man, Gamora just deals a swift kick to the side of his head.

Out like a light.

(Potentially also dead, though that bothers her little.)

The last thug standing has taken to firing wildly around the area, desperation making his shots spread wide and aimless – simply trying to hit anything possible to avoid his own inevitable fate. Though not particularly effective, Gamora still ducks behind cover to avoid a spray of bullets. ]

[ Peter dashes behind cover as the bullets fly. There's a lot to be said for the spray and pray technique. God knows Peter's utilized it more than a few times over the course of his outlaw career, and the lack of predictability can make it a formidable tactic.

It also has the nasty habit of running the clip dry far faster than you expect.

The gun finally clicks empty, and the thug continues to pull the trigger, frantic and panicked. Peter stands, then, head tilted a little sympathetically. ]

This is gonna hurt.

[ And he shoots the guy with a bolt of electricity. The man seizes, collapsing to the ground. When he stills, Peter fires again – just to make sure. After that, he scans the area, guns still raised in case anyone means to surprise them. ]

Think we're in the clear.

[ It's the emptying of the clip that gets Gamora to rise from behind her cover, Godslayer still at the ready as she watches Peter advance on the now-unarmed thug. She barely even blinks when he goes down, and she finally steps into the open properly when Peter gives the all-clear.

She's still on her guard, ready and waiting for any surprises that may launch themselves out of the darkness, but given the almost painful quiet of the warehouse before, she isn't alarmed by the emptiness now.

A flick of her wrist, and Godslayer retracts so she can attach it to the hilt at her hip. ]

That was more manpower than we were led to believe.

[ Because that fight should have been much simpler, and certainly not with the kind of artillery they had on hand. ]

Tell me about it.

[ He says it on a grumble, holstering one gun but keeping the other in hand. It seems to be their lot in life, getting botched information – a dozen men when there are three times as many. A complicated network of booby traps, when there's only one trip wire and a swinging pendulum.

By now, Peter's stopped being so surprised by it. ]

Haven't even seen our guy yet.

I imagine he has either abandoned the area or decided to hole up with his merchandise.

[ And the way she says it is particularly derisive. Their target is clearly a coward, no matter where he's ended up, and given what he's been peddling, Gamora won't be sorry to see him dealt with.

She jerks her chin towards the end of the warehouse – the location for the dealer's storeroom, according to their intel. ]

We can press forward, and the others can cover the back exit.

[ Peter offers a quick nod, providing direction to the others through their shared channel. He adds in some griping for flavor, telling the others to expect resistance.

(Specifically, he tells the others to "stay frosty."

This has predictable results.)

At length, Peter sighs once he's extracted himself from the conversation, and he heads toward the back rooms. ]

Wanna make a bet on how many guys are waiting for us back there?

[ Gamora is (un)fortunate enough to get to listen to the reaction to Peter's instructions, and while she also has no idea what he means by "stay frosty," she at least knows this isn't the time to get him to explain another Terran expression that makes nearly no sense.

She falls into step with Peter towards the back of the building, her hand still resting on Godslayer, ready to draw at a moment's notice (since she's now decidedly lacking in anything ranged). A brief flick of her eyes to him, then forward to the door awaiting them. ]

The rooms themselves are small, including where he has stored his product, so I would not expect more than six. Nine, if they had the sense to barricade more reinforcements.

[ There are two ways in: a front entrance leading to the storerooms themselves, and a back exit that should lead down a short hall and out of the warehouse. If their target tries to escape out the back, the other Guardians should be waiting; if he holds his ground, she and Peter can deal with him in the storeroom itself – and whatever goons he may still have at his disposal. ]

Do you actually want to bet right now?

[ She's clearly skeptical, more than actually interested in a wager. ]

[ He huffs out a laugh, shrugging a shoulder. ]

Just a phrase.

[ Not really, though. He was half-prepared to wager a few days' of chores on "somewhere between six and eight," but there's no point if they're both betting on the same thing. ]

Take point. I'll cover you.

[ She casts him one last, short glance (something surely disbelieving, because she wouldn't have put it past him to put something on the line just because he could), but with the door in front of them, ready and waiting, she's willing to focus on the important matter at hand.

Such as bursting in on their target's last available hiding place.

A nod in the affirmative, and then Gamora moves up to the door itself, a hand on the panel beside it. She waits, listening intently for a moment, and through the thick metal, she can hear scuffling and hushed voices (panicked tones, too, and that's somewhat gratifying). They're definitely in there, and with a cursory count of who's speaking, she can pick out five separate people – though she realizes that doesn't mean there aren't more. It seems to be a last minute scramble to get into position, though they still won't have the time to pull themselves together before Gamora is hitting the panel to open the door, and with all the speed and finesse she possesses, she darts inside the room into the first set of wholly disorganized criminals.

Catching them off guard proves to be in their favor, because the armed men are caught in the middle of shouting disjointed warnings and orders at each other, and Gamora already has Godslayer drawn and a swift strike to a thug's temple with the grip of the blade sends him to the floor in a motionless heap.

It's only after one body hits the floor that the shooting starts.

Gamora can't let them pin her down, and she knows that, so it quickly becomes a matter of flushing them out into the open to give Peter easier access. Around them in the storeroom, there are crates piled high with product, tables stacked with boxes and phials, some stashed but otherwise practically on display.

The man really couldn't have given them a better demonstration of guilt than if he'd written it in neon on the wall. ]

smears my face all over this post nbd

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