nostalgiabomb | riverview: ic contact;

[ He has some arguments to the contrary regarding the ease of cleaning up monster innards, but he's interrupted as Gamora reels him in.

He breathes out a laugh, one hand finding hers to lift it up. His thumb brushes over the rings she's wearing, and even though he knows she likes them – or is saying she likes them, which are not necessarily the same – he's still a little startled to see her wearing them.

Then, he grins brightly at her. ]

Can I get a goodbye kiss?

[ She tries to tame her smile as he admires the rings on her fingers, and she finds that she's almost as fond of his reaction as she is of the rings themselves. ]

You can have a kiss goodbye or you could invite me to join you.

[ Even though she didn't track in monster remains this time.

Dinner only requires putting leftovers in the microwave, after all, so it's not like time will be lost. ]

I—

[ No, wait, please hold, while Peter's brain recalibrates, given this new piece of information.

... No. Hang on— ]

—Wait. Really?

[ Maybe it really is Christmas. ]

[ Gamora lifts a brow at him. ]

Do I look like I’m kidding?

[ Merry Christmas to Peter’s short-circuited brain. ]

[ A flat look in return. ]

In my defense, you never look like you're kidding, even when you are.

[ ... which, admittedly, is an exaggeration, but he has to figure the differences are subtle to, like, almost anyone else. ]

[ He might have a point, but he still earns a pronounced roll of her eyes. ]

Then let me repeat my offer.

[ She tugs at his sweater – gently, mindful of it – and leans in again. ]

Would you rather have a kiss or would you prefer I get in the shower with you?

Shower.

[ And he hardly has to think on his reply, barely even waits for Gamora to finish asking before he's answering, this time. ]

Definitely the shower option. Can we do that one? 'Cause I like that one a lot better.

[ That was about what Gamora expected, obviously, and she doesn’t exactly grin, but she’s amused all the same. ]

Why am I not surprised?

[ Because Peter Quill is a predictable man.

But she does let go of his sweater, pulling back to head into the bathroom – and pulling off her shirt along the way. ]

[ how dare you. peter quill is a wild card. an unknown quantity.

A mysterious variable, who grins at Gamora’s retreating back – now bared back, as she starts to strip – and hurries after her. He’s mindful with his sweater, at least, and the shirt he’s worn underneath it, tugging them both up carefully over his head and avoiding stretching it too much.

... But he still tosses his clothing aside to the couch, instead of folding it neatly, because some old habits die hard. ]

[ an unknown quantity of predictability.

Gamora, at least, sets her shirt on the bathroom sink, folded in half to be retrieved after their shower. She still has her pants on as she leans in to turn on the hot water, glancing over her shoulder at Peter. ]

Are you in that much of a hurry?

[ He pauses in the doorway, leaning against the frame. When she turns to look back at him, he flashes her a crooked smile. ]

What can I say? I like showers.

[ ... although to be honest, one thing living planetside has against living on a ship is the abundance of hot water. Not having to limit a shower to five minutes and hoping the water gets hot enough in that time has been one hell of a luxury. ]

I must have underestimated how much.

[ But she’s also not complaining.

As the water starts to heat, she pauses to grab a hair tie from the sink, starting to gather her curls to put them up in a messy bun. ]

Are you coming in or are you just going to stand in the doorway?

[ He offers a crooked smile from where he’s apparently taken up station, thumbs hooked into his belt. He puts on an uncertain sort of expression, wincing a little as he seems to weigh his choices. ]

I dunno. [ And he breathes out the two words, dragging out the vowels and letting his gaze linger on her. ] I’ve got a pretty good view from here.

[ But at length, he pushes off, entering the bathroom properly. He curls his hands over the curve of her waist; he keeps his touch light at first, before he smooths his palms down to her hips. ]

Huh. [ And even if he tries to keep a straight face, the corner of his mouth quirks upward. ] It’s even better up close. Who would’ve thought?

[ She watches him with a lifted brow, still putting up her hair until she seems satisfied with the way it's tucked in place. ]

I would have thought you'd prefer a more hands-on approach, to begin with.

[ There's a lazy sort of lift at the corner of her mouth, a contentment that manifests itself much more around Peter when they're alone. She doesn't wholly forego her usual immovable expressions, but she also doesn't try nearly so diligently to remain impassive. She's just... at ease.

Her arms come around him, but she nods towards the shower, as steam starts to vaguely fill the bathroom. ]

The water should be warm enough.

[ He steps in closer till they’re touching, and this time, he lets his smile show. ]

And look at us, still seriously overdressed for it.

[ His thumb gently hooks into the waistband of her pants, and his head tilts. ]

Do you need a hand?

[ She's casual all over as she considers him for a moment, giving a short hum. ]

I wouldn't say no.

[ Maybe someday she'll say "please" like a normal person.

Today is not that day. ]

[ It's just as well that he wasn't looking for a "please" in the first place. Who needs manners, anyway?

When she offers her permission, he doesn't waste time in unfastening her pants. He lets both hands slip under her waistband, fingers catching on her panties, and he slowly pushes it all down. ]

[ He's seen her naked before, but she was hardly shy to begin with. She doesn't so much as bat an eyelash as she lets him strip her, only going so far as to step out of her clothes when they pool around her ankles. ]

Much better.

[ She, of course, doesn't ask permission before reaching out to return the favor, though she's equally slow about it, clearly in no rush as she keeps her eyes on his, her hands smoothing over his hipbones, tucking down underneath to push the offending pants and underwear out of the way. ]

[ Well, now with Gamora bared, Peter's breath hitches, his heartbeat pounds inside his, and a rush of warmth straight to his stomach makes his cock twitch to attention.

(Fuck, she's gorgeous. She's perfect. And how does a fuck-up like him get lucky enough to land a girl like her?)

Maybe he wasn't in a rush before, stripping Gamora down like gift, but he's starting to feel it a little, now. Her hands warm against his skin, her fingers teasing along his hips, and Peter moves to help, thumbs hooking underneath the waistbands to move things along.

Patience has never been his strong suit. ]

So impatient.

[ It isn't quite a reprimand, but at least she lets him get rid of what's left his clothes faster.

With both of them fully and properly naked, Gamora allows herself one last moment to trail her fingers up Peter's stomach before she's slipping away from him, stepping into the shower. Hot water hits her skin, and she sighs with quiet relief, then glances back at Peter. ]

Well?

[ Hurry up. ]

[ He kicks his pants away, and when Gamora steps in, he wastes a second to watch her, to see the way the water falls against her skin, how it starts to plaster her hair to her neck and shoulders, how the rivulets and droplets cling to her curves, and—

It's only a handful of seconds, really, but Peter was mesmerized for all of them, and Gamora's voice snaps him out of it.

He casts her an unimpressed look (though the effect of it is negated by the fact that his jaw was practically on the floor only a moments ago), and he steps in behind her, reaching around either side of her to warm his hands in the spray. ]

Now who's impatient?

You were drooling when you should have been getting into the shower.

[ She leans back against him as he stands behind her, and for a moment, she lets her eyes slip shut, a content little smile finding its way to her expression. ]

I was not.

[ With her back to him, Gamora misses the pout he shoots her, but it shows in his voice.

But apparently he’s not so put out that he won’t wrap his arms around her waist or nose at her dampening hair. ]

I was waiting for you to settle in. You wouldn’t believe how many folks hurt themselves by slipping and falling in the shower.

[ She truly enjoys the moment she's able to rest against his chest, to enjoy his arms curling around her; she appreciates that she can enjoy it, that she isn't constantly on alert around him. She's safe here, and she knows that.

She reaches up to run her fingers gently over his neck, up to comb through his hair. ]

And you think I'm someone who would slip in the shower?

[ Psh. ]

[ He deadpans, ]

Bathroom safety isn’t something to scoff at, Gamora.

[ But the effect is ruined when the corner of his mouth twitches upward. He hums quietly as her fingers tangle up into his hair, eyes slipping closed. ]

I thought you’d be more impressed by my caution.

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