nostalgiabomb | riverview: ic contact;

[ 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.

[ Her nails run absently over his scalp, scritching lightly behind his ear. She's not making any immediate move to reach for the soap or otherwise, seemingly content to stand naked with him under the water. ]

You may have to try harder to impress me.

[ Though Peter? Being cautious? Perish the thought. ]

[ He hums quietly, ducking down a little to press a quick kiss just beneath the hinge of her jaw. ]

Can I get any helpful hints, at least? Quick pointers?

[ Gamora tilts her chin, giving him slightly better access, but also so she can peer at him from the corner of her eye. ]

The flowers were a step in the right direction.

[ Because that had impressed Gamora; the amount of thought he’d put into the bouquet and the selection of blooms spoke to how much Peter listened to her, how important her stories were to him. ]

But I am not going to give you any “helpful hints,” otherwise.

[ Because Gamora is just plain unhelpful. ]

[ Now that she's looking at him, at least a little, she can witness the strength of his pout. ]

C'mon. Just a little one?

[ And he murmurs it against her neck, ducking down further to kiss the side of her neck. The water from the shower head falls over them, and he tastes it on her skin, revels in the warmth surrounding him.

(Fuck, this is nice. Why haven't they done this sooner, anyway?) ]

I mean, it's Christmas.

It is not actually Christmas.

[ Not by the Terran calendar, at least. (She’s pretty sure.)

Pouting though he may be, she seems unmoved as she allows the trail of kisses, reveling in each brush of his lips. It feels so effortless between them, and though Gamora doesn’t know the steps to this dance – this relationship thing – it’s all continued to be very much... them. Maybe the context has changed, maybe the extent of what they share has broadened physically and otherwise, but... he still feels like her best friend. They still feel as close as before – if not more so now.

She sighs at him, like he’s asking for such absurd things, but she allows herself to lean just a bit more into his chest, reaching behind herself with the hand not in his hair, to run a palm over his flank, fingers kneading lightly, affectionately up to his hip. ]

But if I was feeling generous – what kind of hint would you want me to give you?

Close enough.

[ He makes a quiet, approving sound as her hand travels up his side, and his arms tighten a little around her waist before he relaxes. He uncrosses his arms, his hands similarly running down from her waist, over her hips, and back up again. ]

Well, for starters—

[ This, murmured against her neck, low and warm. ]

—would you rather shower first or later?

[ She does adore the sounds he makes, how responsive he can be. Which is almost ironic, considering how often she might have rolled her eyes, insisted he talked too much, but now, she's charmed by it.

It helps that she can usually shut him up with a kiss these days, too.

She gives a thoughtful hum as her eyes slip shut to appreciate the broad palms that skirt over her hips. ]

It seems like a waste to shower first.

[ What's the point in getting clean if there will be more to deal with in the aftermath? ]

[ He hums again, and she can probably feel the way he grins against her. ]

Good. See, I was thinking the same thing.

[ And he traces light, delicate circles on the crease of her hip, nipping at her shoulder. ]

Wanted to make sure we were on the same page.

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