bakerstreet | otherwordly;

(( can be IW compliant! just let me know if you're cool with spoilers or not ))

( cool w iw spoilers! )

(( something post-IWish? just... handwaving that whole thing and jumping straight to the happy end, if that's cool with you! let me know if i should change anything. ))

[ Listen, Peter thinks he's a lucky guy. The Guardians of the Galaxy have pulled some impossible wins out of their ass, time and time again. They had faced down insurmountable odds and still somehow won.

But this? After everything Thanos had done, everything he showed himself capable of? Peter still can't wrap his head around what the hell happened, still can't figure out how the hell they were lucky enough to survive. But they did, and almost everything is back as it should be, and— it's like a movie ending, isn't it?

"And they all lived happily ever after."

Except Peter can still see the haunted looks in the team's eyes, the exhaustion and the faint disbelief, like they all think it's a dream. They touched down on Earth – not because they were needed anymore, but because they didn't know where else to go. They all wanted a little slice of normal, after everything that had gone down. A vacation, almost.

It's a homecoming for Peter, but he hasn't gone back to Missouri, hasn't tried to track down his family or anyone who might still remember him. Instead, he sticks to Gamora's side, hovers around her, refuses to let her out of his sight.

(He failed her once. He let her go once. He's not going to risk that ever again.)

The Avengers let them stay at the Avengers Facility while they rest and recuperate. They had only really intended to stay a couple of days, but those "couple of days" have come and gone and have turned into a week.

Peter has barely slept since it all ended, because when he shuts his eyes, he keeps seeing smoke and fire and warped support beams, keeps seeing Thanos and his smug as hell scrotum-face, keeps seeing Gamora with resignation and acceptance and love in her eyes. And when it's quiet, he remembers how it had felt when he found out she was dead, how it had felt like Thanos had ripped his heart from his chest, dumped gasoline all over it and set it aflame, and then stomped all over the remains.

Which is why he's sitting at the window of the room he's sharing with Gamora, staring out of the window. The sky is an ugly, dark gray, with the first few beams of sunlight struggling to pierce through the rain clouds. He has the earbuds of his Zune firmly in place, though he's barely listening to the music. And for that matter, he's not really looking at anything either. He just keeps running through everything in his head, every misstep, every mistake, every way it could have ended in disaster.

You know. Light, easy thoughts for the morning. ]

[ the avengers facility is nothing in comparison to missouri. nothing.

missouri is nice. it's the very first thought gamora had when she touched down on this planet — peter's planet. his home, in a distant sort of way. she tries to find him in every crook and cranny, in the length, curve, and texture of the grass blades, in the moon and the stars, even in the trees and the birds. every piece of this planet belongs to him, and gamora has never felt so safe.

she doesn't like it the avengers' home, in it's tall walls and its pristine building. she wants to go back to missouri, where there's so much peter — peter's mom, david hasselhoff, the kids who used to bully peter as a kid still living in their childhood homes with their boring or interesting lives to match. (she has offered to go "speak" to them a few times, and she will, one day. mark her words.) she wants to go everywhere. google maps only shows her so much — and it's so limited, given how frustrating it is she can't peep into the windows or feel the bark of the trees.

it's not as satisfying as walking through it all with peter. that's when it doesn't matter. nothing really does.

it doesn't surprise her to find him here. there are times where she catches him and doesn't disturb him, knowing the distant look in his eyes is him travelling back in time, using his own time stone to go back to where it all began. sometimes she catches herself looking for the fractures, where the most pivotal decisions could be made. doctor strange's theories had aggravated her at best and made her curious at worst, leading her to wonder where she could have done better, been able to stop all of it, and remove that hurt which lingers around peter like it's a second skin. she had never meant her decision to withhold the soul stone's location to be the undoing of peter or her sister, to fracture their own souls in the way hers had been embedded so far away from theirs.

she's begun to learn that he shouldn't be alone. she's seen it in the way pepper potts lingers around tony stark, the way steve and bucky seem to be attached at the hip. once upon a time, she would've thought to leave him with his thoughts and let him come find her. gamora doesn't trust he feels too confident he can find the path leading back to her without worrying she isn't waiting at the end of it.

rather than leave him be, gamora sits next to him. she doesn't reach out for one of his ear pieces, instead leaning closer to him to hear it. feeling his arm press against hers as she uses him to lean upon is a reminder that he's here. she's no longer gone, apart from her own body, away from the guardians, trapped in a time stone that made her feel weightless and nameless. if he calls her out on it, she'll deny it, of course. ]

You're thinking too hard. It's ruining the music, Peter.

[ subtlety and reading between the lines of peter quill is one of her specialities, but gamora's tired of unspoken things. ]

[ He’s deeply distracted by his thoughts, by the patter of rain and the music flowing through his head, that he doesn’t notice Gamora’s approach. It isn’t until she’s sitting beside him, leaning against him, that he goes rigid with surprise, looking over at her with owlish, startled eyes.

But he relaxes by slow degrees, tugging one of the earbuds out and lowering the volume on the Zune. ]

Who’s thinking? I never think.

[ He tries to cast it as a joke, but the words fall flat with how hoarse his voice is. The smile he tries to flash her is a small, unsteady thing, and he gives up after a second.

It’s been four years that they’ve been together, which means that Peter moves against her as easily as breathing – and easier still, since it’s just the two of them in here. He wraps his arm around her waist, all but melting against her. Peter’s always been a tactile person, and it’s all the more clear when he’s with Gamora. ]

What are you doing up?

Not thinking. [ gamora can joke, too, even if she knows it immediately falls flat. she's been thinking too much over the last few days, of lost time, of lost opportunities, of now lost choices. that's the joke. the crinkle in her brow has always represented her inability to not stop thinking. peter's the one with the flair for comedy … gamora's always been the straight man amongst it all.

she thinks to alleviate the weight she's pressed against his side as a purposeful reminder that she's here (and that he's here … sometimes the deadliest woman in the galaxy needs a nudge that this is all real, too), but his arm around her waist settles it. she made the right decision. for four long years, she's been making plenty of them.

she looks at him, shifting slightly. rather than pull away, she reaches out for his zune to look at it like she hasn't seen it a thousand times before. it's the one piece of technology that she knows better than the weapons she trained with under thanos. it's much gentler, even if the volume can sometimes be a little too much. ]

I was looking for you. [ although she may be the deadliest woman in the galaxy, gamora keeps her eyes down, focused on his music player. like the music she's come to enjoy so much, sometimes she wants to hide behind it, just like he's doing right now. slightly (and unintentionally) abrupt, ] I can leave if you want to be alone.

[ He lets her take the Zune when she reaches for it – he trusts her with it, after all, knows that she’ll treat it with just as much care as he usually does. The scratched-up screen displays that “Feelin’ Alright?” by Traffic is currently playing, though Peter’s barely listening to it, focused as he is on the press of Gamora’s side against his, solid and warm and there.

(And he thinks about that long, endless moment, when Thanos had admitted to killing her, and Peter thinks about Knowhere, and he thinks about the tears in her eyes and the resignation in her face, and—

“I love you. More than anything,” only the words were cast as a farewell, and—)

In the here and now, Gamora says, “I can leave,” and Peter couldn’t stop his reply, even if he wanted to: ]

Stay. Please.

[ He blurts it out even before she finishes speaking, the words tearing their way out of his throat, his arm tightening a little around her waist.

And— man, that’s clingy. This is— this is getting a little unhealthy, isn’t it? How he can hardly stand having Gamora out of his sight, because a part of him thinks that any second, she’ll disappear. He thinks that he’ll look away, and he’ll snap out of this blissful dream, and Gamora will still be gone, and he’ll have to live on without her.

He licks his lips, clears his throat a little awkwardly. ]

... Only if you want to. Obviously.

[ when she's awkward, he's meant to be smooth. isn't that the rule? he shouldn't be breaking it right now. it unbalances her when he's unable to pull her into a spin and steady her on her feet. she doesn't know how to pay it back, always expecting him to be the one to slow them the both down when they need it.

gamora doesn't make any move to leave. instead, she keeps the zune in her hands, holding it like it's priceless — she'd never held any of the infinity stones like this, almost believing them to be expendable in the way her fingers never took note of their weight. out of all the terran technology she's come across, this is the one she knows how to work. she distracts herself looking for that one song in particular — the one she thinks might cheer him up. ]

I want to.

[ it's said with enough conviction he can't doubt her at all, like the way he seems to sometimes pull apart the notes of his music to decipher the moods of their singers. gamora doesn't even doubt herself, with how she doesn't waste any time to respond.

still leaning against him, gamora finds the very song she wants — footloose. it isn't by kevin bacon, as expected, but she always pretends that it is. leaning closer to him so she can hear it, she weighs her words before she speaks. it's too easy to continue along the path of speaking around what neither of them want to talk about. unspoken things seem to be their special brand, owned only by peter quill and gamora. but she doesn't think she wants to hold it close to her chest anymore, posturing as though she's the woman she had been before thanos had begun his rampage on the asgardians, of knowhere, and of peter's home planet.

quietly, ] It's too quiet here. [ very much like the soul stone. it'd been devoid of any of his music. although she's spent her entire life without cherry bomb or even the likes of cat stevens, she's come to claim it as the sounds of her home. it's calming. it grounds her in the same way it seems to ground him, reminding her, always, that she's not within that void, far from reach and far from home.

with her thumb positioned over the volume, gamora slowly rotates it so that it drops, leaving her without the clear words of kenny loggins. ] I never thought there'd be a day where I'd miss your mindless babble.

[ though, there had been a day — an endless amount of days without his babbling. ]

[ He’s more relieved than he wants to admit when she agrees, when she settles more fully against him. He watches over her shoulder as she goes through the songs one the Zune. (Three hundred songs, and even after four years, it had felt like an impossible amount; he had felt spoiled for choice after living on the careful selection of songs on his mother’s tapes. A few members of the Avengers had offered to upgrade his device, to swap it out for something more modern, but Peter had guarded the Zune jealously.

It wasn’t about how many songs. He never really cared about that, though he had gratefully accepted the iPod-thing when someone had handed it to him. What matters is the significance, the importance, the memories he had attached to the Zune.)

When she lands on “Footloose,” Peter smiles a little, and he thinks, briefly, that maybe he should show the movie to her, while they’re here. It won’t be the epic, sprawling film she likely expects it to be, but hopefully she’ll like it, nevertheless.

At her teasing, Peter forces himself to let out a quiet laugh, and he nudges her gently, playfully. ]

My babble isn’t mindless. [ Though, apparently, he does admit it’s babble. ] C’mon. I say some deep and thought-provoking stuff.

[ no, he doesn’t. Not often, anyway. He seems to recognize his own lie, at least, which is why he still smiles through it. ]

But if this is an invitation to chat, I’m all ears.

[ peter isn't given a chance to allow himself to believe he has said any thought provoking "stuff". gamora immediately shakes her head, though she doesn't glance up at him. of course he has — everyone's prone to saying something wise every now and then. although peter quill is oftentimes a fool (especially around her, and especially almost every hour of every day), some of the things he has mindlessly babbled about has sparked something inside of her.

his babble about kevin bacon, for one, has stayed with her through all of these years. unpacking it had lead her to his mom, and how much she stays present with him through his soundtracks and the goodness within his heart. (unfortunately for ego, all he'd given peter was the thickness of his hair and his dead celestial powers.) it made her think ... and then promptly shove it to the side until thanos had whisked her away and made her remember. sometimes she wishes she had a mixed tape to carry around of her home — her true home, the one she found before finding the guardians.

as tempting as it is to wind the volume up so the challenge to speak, to be the mindless babbler, falls between deaf ears (figuratively speaking), gamora tilts her head as she looks at him. ]

Will you go back to Missouri? [ looking at him as she asks it isn't to corner him or to make him feel uncomfortable. gamora wants to see something in his expression … something familiar to what she's been feeling since thanos had returned her to where he'd made her. rocket refuses to think of the past, groot's incapable of remembering the large and generous man he once was, and drax's own babble is more mindless than peter's. it's him who has always made her feel as though he sees her, even when he's talking about a gun that's on top, or whatever it is.

it's with curiousity, although she's digging for something deeper, that she repeats, ] While you're still here … Will you take me back?

[ The question catches him completely off-guard, and it shows with the way his eyes widen, with the way he rocks back from her.

It’s— weird. It’s odd. Coming back to Earth had been one hell of a shock, and Peter still doesn’t think he’s parsed through it, still feels like he’s moving on autopilot. Earth hasn’t felt like “home” for him in decades, and even now, surrounded by vaguely familiar sights and sounds and smells, it still doesn’t. “Home” is his ship, with the engines rumbling through the bulkhead and the deck, bickering and laughing with his friends.

He might have family in Missouri, but that’s just genetics. They were strangers to him. His family now is the Guardians. ]

You really wanna go again?

[ More pensive than hesitant, at least. ]

Why? It’s just— a lot of grass.

[ gamora figures from his reaction she's said the wrong thing. her head tells her she has, hence his movement away from her, but her gut ... her gut once told her to trust peter quill, and she's never regretted it since.

she doesn't flinch at all, remaining still as she lets him go through the paces he needs to. gamora is a woman from space, so used to different shades tinting the skies and lush or brittle textures of the land she happens to stand on. earth is different. since stepping out onto the grass of missouri — plenty of grass ... an incredibly, unusual amount of grass ... — she wonders if that is what peter had felt on ego's planet, like she was somewhere close to where her feet could finally stand still. ]

Yes. [ she states it matter-of-factly, so he can't pick at any hesitation in her voice or in her expression. she keeps the zune in her hands, as though it'll only help with ensuring he understands how serious she is. ]

I like the grass. [ looking down at his zune, she rubs her thumb against the screen, seeing how it still smudges despite her best efforts. ] I like your home. Even if it has too much grass and awful music.

[ taylor swift, anyone? ]

[ don’t even get quill started on taylor swift he’ll never stop ]

It was my home.

[ The correction is quiet, gentle, almost a little sad. Peter is a stranger to Earth, as alien to the planet as any of his friends. Sure, he came from here. Sure, he’s human – well, half, at least – but the majority of his life was lived among the stars, on distant planets and far-flung systems, in dingy ships and seedy stations. He was born on Earth, but it wasn’t home. And for a long time – until about four years ago, in fact – he wasn’t sure where home was.

(Ego’s planet had come dangerously. Lush and vibrant and filled with color. It had nearly been home, because Ego had plied him with kind words and easy affection and something that almost felt like love, and Peter had wanted that all of his life.

If Ego hadn’t turned out to be a deranged psycho, if Ego had turned out to be everything Peter had hoped, if Ego had turned out to be the father Peter had always wanted, Peter isn’t sure he would have ever left.)

He’s learned, since then, that his home isn’t so much a place. He could be anywhere, really, as long as the Guardians are with him. They’re his home. But that’s too schmaltzy and sappy to say aloud, so Peter keeps that fact to himself.

He falls quiet for another breath or two, and even though he had pulled away earlier, his arm is still wound around Gamora’s waist. He settles against her again, trying to examine her face. With the room as dim as it is, the light from the Zune’s screen settles on the curve of her cheek, catches in the silver lines of her scars.

He licks his lips, and at long last, he nods. ]

... Yeah. [ A little reluctantly, but he’s pretty sure he’s gotten to a point in his life where he’d do anything Gamora asked of him. ] Yeah. If you wanna go back, we can.

Just tell me when.

[ now.

gamora has only ever travelled the galaxy with one mission, and that was to stop thanos. with the greatest threat to the galaxy gone, what originally drove her no longer propels her forward. now, she thinks she has more in common with her friends, who seem as directionless as her without an enemy to protect the galaxy from.

her arm winds around his waist, although she doesn't do it with the intention to hold him in the way he does her. it's to keep him there as a reminder that he's there to begin with. ]

After we're done here.

[ she sounds satisfied, perfectly content with it. it seems like a safe enough answer. she wants to go now, she wants to go later, and a part of her doesn't want to leave this room at all.

perhaps uncharacteristically, she rests her head against his shoulder. gamora has never liked appearing defeated, but she knows she can here. peter will still see her as the same woman as he's always seen her to be, regardless of the shape she takes herself.

quietly, she finds herself voicing what's been plaguing her since thanos finally met his end. ] What are we going to do after this, Peter?

Yeah. Okay.

[ And the words are still quiet, somber. Heading back to Missouri isn't the worst idea, he thinks, and— maybe he should visit his mother's grave. Maybe he should leave her a bouquet of her favorite flowers before they finally take their leave. And maybe he can take Gamora on a proper tour of the place and all the spots he liked to go as a kid. Their last trip had been a quick, cursory thing, more akin to a public relations stunt than an actual visit. A morale booster of a sort.

Once she rests her head against his shoulder, Peter turns a little, nosing at her hair. Maybe Gamora was a little more hesitant about displays of affection, but Peter offers them up easily, freely. At her question, he exhales slowly, quietly, his breath displacing a few strands of her hair. ]

I dunno.

[ The Guardians have always been aimless, to a degree. Going where they're needed, wherever someone needed help. And god knows that right now, there are probably no shortage of places in turmoil. ]

I... I guess we'll just pick a random direction and head that way? We'll go back to doing what we've always done, I guess. Go back to helping people, saving the galaxy. Stuff like that.

[ gamora smiles, grateful he can't see her face. where she had worried nothing would be the same again, he reassures her, over and over, with either his words or the way he seems to always fold into her, like they haven't changed at all after everything they've gone through. she is still gamora, and he is still peter. she has never lost her faith in that, even when the world and galaxy itself had tried to make her.

a world without thanos is not one gamora is accustomed to. he has always been the spine, the feet, very much the reason for her running and spurning each and every one of the lessons he's taught her over the years. without him, she hasn't known who she would become. but she's a guardian of the galaxy, and the galaxy will always need saving.

first, though, they go to missouri.

she smiles, uncaring if he hears it in her voice, ] I want that more than anything. [ somewhere to belong, something to do, someone to become. and if they belong to their guardianship over the galaxy ... gamora can only hope that, one day, she can return the favour that she is asking of him, of the home that has too much grass and too many memories lost over time.

she grips his side a little more tightly, staying where she is so he cannot read her and she cannot read him. ] We'll go right first. Unless our captain thinks otherwise. And within reason.

[ The comment draws a soft, reluctant laugh from him, something almost pained even if he tries to keep it light. ]

I'd appreciate that, yeah.

[ And his voice is on the wrong side of tight as he shifts, his arm tightening around her as he screws his eyes shut, all but burying his face in her hair.

It still hurts, even if he doesn't want to admit it. Those days still play in a loop in his mind, and he keeps thinking of how much he had failed Gamora, over and over again. It all aches like a festering wound, but he should be healing, shouldn't he? He should be over it, he tells himself. They're all fine, they're all alive, and things can get back to normal. So why can't he just forget?

He takes a shuddering breath. ]

What would you wanna do in Missouri?

[ Because he desperately needs the subject change. ]

[ the last time gamora had felt so safe was on a planet that she believes no longer exists. her hackles remain lowered, her need to draw for her sword unseen and unfelt.

not once does she think to pull away. she remains as is, feeling like no one, absolutely nothing can steal her away in this moment. thanos had taught her to never fear, and nebula, the guardians — her family — had reminded her of the teachings of her mother: being brave is to be afraid.

gamora finds herself afraid of what's to come. her freedom from her past has left her feeling slightly unbalanced, while the feel of her future makes her feel fearless. and with fearlessness comes the risk of loss. gamora can feel something delicate in her hands and in the weight of peter around her that she doesn't wish to lose as she has everything else. her fingers grip the fabric of his shirt a little tighter, as if to quietly say you're not going anywhere.

she declares it to the universe, unafraid and unwilling to move if it so much as wishes her to. ] I want to sit in the annoying grass Missouri has too much of, and I want to listen to music. [ as much as gamora wants to see what peter has seen, experience what peter vaguely remembers, this is what she wants. something simple. something that tests time, especially now that they have too much of it.

music, the grass, the sun, the air and the memories ... that's experiencing the world as peter sees it, isn't it?

she shifts slightly, but doesn't pull away to look at him. instead, her free hand reaches for his around her waist, brushing her long fingers against his. ] Is that too filled with corn? [ it's corny, gamora. is this too corny? ]

[ His breath catches with her suggestion, and he thinks of his childhood, where he did exactly that. Sprawling out in the grass as the wind whispered through the blades, his Walkman resting atop his stomach as he stared up at the clouds. Mom was there a lot of the time, grinning up at the sky and pointing, saying things like, "Doesn't that cloud look a little like a dolphin?"

He hasn't done that in... lifetimes, it feels like, and he feels himself smiling with the idea. ]

No, it's good.

[ And when she pulls back, he lets her, even if that means Gamora can see that bit of wetness in his eyes and the shaky smile he puts on. She's using the word wrong, and he knows it, but hell if he cares. ]

It's just the right amount of corn, I think.

[ He hesitates for a second, thinking over the places he used to go as a kid, the things he used to do. Then, ]

I used to stargaze a lot. There was this park near my house, and it had this little hill, and sometimes I'd just sprawl out there at night. Watch for shooting stars and UFOs. Dumb stuff like that.

[ gamora smiles, feeling something warm spread through her entire being. she shakes her head, and gently says, ] That doesn't sound dumb to me.

[ the mention of ufos included. a very small part of her thinks to ask him what those are again, but she forgoes it for now. there'll be time for her to ask him numerous questions, like if kevin bacon was named after bacon, or why he thought he could see a ufo from the great distance between the atmosphere and his small hill.

meredith feels close … she's always liked any mentions of her. they're always so warm, so tangible, even if gamora can never each out and touch them. it feels distantly familiar.

she looks down at the zune in her hands. i want you back is a song she loves to sing to when no one's anywhere near her quarters on their ship. she taps what she's memorised as its beat against him where her hand curls around his waist, uncaring if he notices.

gamora doesn't allow herself to think and weigh up what she feels on the tip of her tongue. wistfully, she recalls her own hill. ] My mother and I used to look for a shooting star that never came.

[ Oh.

It's rare for Gamora to offer up memories of her childhood, and whenever she did, Peter would make a habit of falling quiet, of letting her speak. Memories like this were precious – something he knew all too well – and he values every quiet moment like this. ]

Yeah?

[ Quiet, prompting. And invitation to continue on. ]

On Earth, we had— have— this... tradition, I think. If you see a shooting star and make a wish, it'll come true.

What about you guys?

[ for years she hadn't wanted to think about her home — her true home, not the one built by thanos' destructive and manipulative hands — in case the longing became too overwhelming. now, though, gamora sees nothing to fear in it. peter carries his mixtapes as a sign he's thinking of home — or the home he knew. as much as gamora sees peter in everything on earth, she's noted how his steps rarely match the confident ones of tony stark, or even thor.

gamora looks out the window, as if she can see one right now. though she feels an uncomfortable pang of longing in her chest, she feels and appears content. walking down this memory lane isn't so scary with peter. ] It used to mean those who we lost were with you. I haven't seen a shooting star in a long time.

[ she turns her head to face him, lips curved upward. ]

A lot of my wishes came true years after I made my wish.

[ their childhoods weren't so different after all. ]

[ The words make something sweet and warm clench in her chest, and— god, it’s so nice to see Gamora smile.

(Because there was a time when he thought he’d never see that smile again, when he thought he’d never hear her voice or feel the weight of her head against his chest when they fell asleep together, and—)

He can hardly help it, the way he ducks down, the way he captures her lips in a quick, chaste kiss. Her lips are soft and warm against his, and he lingers for a second or two longer than necessary, tries desperately to memorize this exact moment. He’s still living a life half-terrified, worrying that he’ll blink and everything will crumble away to dust, so he keeps soaking in these stolen moments, so that if it’s all a dream, at least he’ll remember.

But he pulls back, bringing up a hand to cup her cheek, and he returns her smile a little hesitantly. ]

You mean everything to me.

[ And he whispers the words – this is just for them, just for this private little bubble while they shut out the rest of the world, and all the responsibilities and heartache and everything that’ll weight down on them, once they start the day properly. ]

You know that, right?

[ gamora wishes it would last longer. he is always so unsure, so aware of how important their relationship is to him. sometimes she wishes this dance was less softer.

the thought of wanting more doesn't make her smile drop at all. rather, it has a different effect — she smiles, almost as brightly as a star stitched in their galaxy. much like what exists in their galaxy, her heart skips a very human and very corny beat at the way he looks at her.

quiet but firmly, ] Yes.

[ holding the zune had been her attempt of holding onto him, in a way. now, she lets it sit in the dip between where her thigh rests against his to reach for his hand. long fingers curl around his wrist, thumb in search for his pulse. she's not used to this display of intimacy, but she doesn't mind it one bit. ]

I'm not going away, Peter. [ she presses gently down on his wrist to emphasise her point. keeping her gaze firmly trained on his face — the slope of his nose, his long lashes ... ] I meant what I said, even if it was in the moment where I thought I'd never see you again.

[ His gaze flits over to her hand, where she grasps his wrist, and he concentrates on the warmth of her fingers, on the pressure of her grip, light though it is. And he reminds himself, for the millionth time, that she's warm and solid and here. Alive and breathing. That she's real, and this is all real, and this is the second chance they deserve.

Another trembling breath, something slightly wet as he tries to hold back the tears that prickle in his eyes, and he offers her a small smile. ]

I'm not going away, either. [ And he casts the words as a promise, guiding her hand at her wrist to press against his chest, letting her feel his heartbeat.

But either because of the uncomfortable gravity of it all, or because he's just naturally inclined to offering up a joke, he adds, ] Good luck trying to get rid of me, though. You're kinda stuck with me.

otherwordly;

peter quill | mcu | ota

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IW spoilers!

this is so uncool, i love it. ❤︎

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