Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Rocket couldn’t help but be offended that none of the other guardians had asked him how he felt when they’d picked up two new recruits. They hadn’t even held interviews, or whatever the equivalent might be when it came to finding new people to help them guard the galaxy.

It was just rude, excluding him like that, no matter how you sugarcoated it.

            Although, he supposed, that he had at least brought in Kraglin, and Kraglin was the most useful by far. Out of all two of their new teammates, the ex-ravager was at least prepared when it came to the opportunity for combat. He also knew how to pilot a ship, which was handy for obvious reasons (Quill had been moved down the list from the second-best pilot to the third according to the raccoon, whom felt no greater joy than when watching Stardork’s face grow red and indignant every time he was told so).

But the other newest member of their team…

            Had Nebula decided to stay and not go off to murder Thanos, a suicidal mission if Rocket had ever heard one, Mantis might’ve had the privilege of being second runner-up on Rocket’s list of most disliked team members.

As it stood, the woman, with her huge eyes that stared vacantly at everything from the many colorful buttons and levers on the Quadrant’s control panel to the shape of Rocket’s implants from beneath his jumpsuit, looked about as dumb as every other being he’d misfortune of encountering.               

_ 

            The short of it is that they’re on a mission to find confirmation that the medical center they’ve infiltrated is indeed a lab dealing in illegal experimentation.

“You are terrified.” Mantis whispered.

            But the worst of it is that they’re huddled in a closet, amid unused IV racks and defibrillators, the kind of junk that has Rocket’s fur bristling and his tail twitching with mounting anxiety.        

            Rocket had never feared being separated from the rest of the team during a mission unless the consequences of such were dire. When you were in the moment, and having a hell of a time while killing as many as your multitude of bombs, canons, and good old fashioned plasma guns allowed, you lost touch with reality easily. And yet, he was without any weapons to speak of, without any guys to shoot, and cramped into a shadowy little room with only Mantis, the last person on the team he’d ever wanted to get stuck alone with, there with him.  

Rocket glares at her in the darkness, hyper-aware of that prickling sensation of fear inside and out with Mantis’s fingers just barely touching his arm.

“Tell me somethin’ I don’t fuckin’ know already.”

His venomous tone is enough for Mantis to take her hand back, and he doesn’t feel an ounce of pity for the hurt look on her face. She’s got no business putting her mitts on him and embarrassing him like that, even if there’s no one to hear her insipid comments on his emotional turmoil.  

            Rocket returns to scanning outside of the vent in the door they’re behind. The sight of the tabletops where people had no doubt been clamped down and prodded with needles and illicit drugs makes him itch for a grenade to throw. If he had his way, Rocket would blow this whole facility sky high, but the promise of units and the ire of the rest of the guardians keeps him tame.

There also happens to be two men just outside, dressed in hazmat-looking suits with full hoods and a window of plastii for them to look through. Their backs are turned to Rocket, but he can just make out the billow of chemical smoke coming from whatever they’ve got going on the tabletop. There’s a known scent in the air, the smell of flesh burning, paired with the chemicals that’s sickening. He just knows that they’re doing illegal shit to something living, or something that had been alive beforehand.  

Rocket can’t prevent himself from growling audibly the longer they sit there. Panic has all his nerves shot, but there’s nothing for it when the sound of his disgust is amplified in the small room.

Well, shit.

            The door swings open and both Rocket and Mantis are being hustled out without warning. Rocket snaps his jaws on whatever he can, wherever he can as he’s gripped around his tail and his arms are tugged hard in the direction of the stretcher tops. He attempts to dig his claws into the steel floor but it makes little difference before he’s hoisted high into the air and the life is being squeezed out of him via the gloved hands wrapped tightly around his throat.

            He’s lost sight of Mantis in the struggle for some time, more preoccupied with the intense panic that has him thrashing around in the grip of these grotesque excuses for scientists. He scratches desperately at the vice grip around his throat and manages to pull down one of the gloves in the flurry of things. The sound of his captor’s groan of pain drives Rocket to absolutely shred at the purple skin beneath the suit and then he’s free.

            Rocket makes quick work of climbing the scientist’s shoulder to punch in the plasticized mask and knock him off balance. He continues to pummel and scratch with all his might, riding the panic attack turned adrenaline high as he does so.

            The other bastard has Mantis’s back pressed to him and is grasping her antennae in one fist, ignoring her cries to be let go. He yanks her head to one side and Mantis screams at the exact moment Rocket spies a syringe being pushed into her neck. It’s filled with a grey-white, syrupy liquid that Rocket recognizes straightaway.

            Before making sure that the guy he’s pinned down is fully knocked out, Rocket launches himself at Mantis’s capture and sinks his teeth right into the doctor’s jugular. He feels deep, visceral satisfaction when a gush of blood fills his jaws and leaks down the front of his jumpsuit.

_

“Mantis.” Rocket sighed, not bothering to hide the relief in his voice as he spotted said bug lady and made a beeline directly toward her.

            Mantis’s antennae perked up at the call of her name. She was hunched beneath a fallen beam between the corridor walls on either side of them, covered in ash and grit. It was unnerving just how long it took for the rest of her to react as Rocket skittered the rest of the distance to her, how her large eyes were barely focused on his own while he began to run his paws over her arms and shoulders.

            He was uncharacteristically gentle as he probed her torso, noting the scrapes, forming bruises, and gashes, and he hissed upon finding what he’d feared most. Pieces of shrapnel had embedded themselves into Mantis’s shoulder blade and her left side.   

            “Rocket?”  

Mantis’s voice sounded too far away to Rocket’s hypersensitive ears. “Are you okay?”

Rocket reared back to look at her face, mouth contorted into a reflexive snarl.

            “What d’ya mean: are you okay?” Rocket mocked her while he began to slowly pull at a piece of metal that jutted from near her collarbone. He growled when the fucking thing didn’t even budge under his strength, and in the back of his mind, Rocket was sure that he’d eventually have to go digging around it with his claws to pry it out.

            There was silence, save for Mantis’s quiet crying, as Rocket worked (frantically) to try and dislodge the offending object from the woman’s body. To her credit, Mantis had hardly moved – but then that didn’t exactly put his mind at ease, as he was fairly certain that she had a concussion from being knocked backward after taking the hit.

                        “I didn’t see you when it happened,” Mantis sniffed. “I didn’t know if you were there with me.”

            Rocket stilled in the middle of pressing at her wound, from stemming the trickle of green blood, as one of Mantis’s arms wrapped around him. Warmth seeped in beneath fur and skin, familiar yet no less potent. It wasn’t quite tangible, and yet the sensation reached every nerve. Mantis’s relief – relief because of him, because of his presence, over him simply being alive and with her -  made Rocket shudder.

_

Team meetings weren’t often that productive.

“What?! But tech is my thing!” Rocket shouts.

            They were rarely this ridiculous, though.

            “Are you seriously trying to make this about you right now?” Peter shouted back, his hands flew to his hips as he stared the raccoon down.

            Gamora sighed in frustration behind them, “Don’t act like you haven’t done the same thing, Peter.”

“What?!” Their leader swung around to face her. “When?!”

            “It is about me! I’m the one that rigs up everything we need on a daily basis! I don’t need her to get in the way!” Rocket yelled, in no mood to let those idiots start a lover’s spat.

“You’re the one who brought up that Mantis needs training in the first place!”

“Yeah! I meant like self-defense, not takin’ my place!” Rocket said. “How’s she gonna know how and what to blow up when we’re in the line of fire anyway? You think just any lifeform can come in and build a bomb just like that?!”

“You will teach her,” Drax spoke up for the first time since they’d called a team meeting.

            “ME? I’m s’posed to teach HER?”

Peter’s hands flew back up. “Who else, man?”

Groot had managed to get onto a seat by himself after spending the better part of their powwow trying to climb his way up (he still wasn’t tall enough to reach the height of the table itself), making it in time to give Rocket a pointed look. “I am Groot.”

Rocket scoffed, “You’re on their side?!”

Gamora walked forward, placing one hand on the frame of Groot’s chair, and “You said so yourself, ‘tech is your thing’.”

“No one else knows the mechanics of our weaponry as much as you do, and no one,” Gamora said coolly, pausing to look between Peter and Kraglin, the latter of whom had the decency to gulp and look some form of ashamed, “has bothered to inspect the Quadrant inside and out like you have.”

Her gaze returned to Rocket’s, fixing him with a deadly calm stare in spite of his angry sneer. She was looking down her nose at him, assuming neutrality when they both knew that she was going to win this argument.

            Their battle of wills-style staring contest ended when Gamora looked up and over him. Rocket followed suit, only to see that her attention had fixed on the subject they’d all spent twenty minutes arguing over.

Mantis stood away from the crowd, timidly fidgeting with the pleats of her suit. It wasn’t long before she felt all eyes on her and looked back at them intrepidly.  

            “I only want to be helpful.” She regarded him, as open and earnest as she’d ever been. It was painful how desperate she was to help, so much so that Rocket had to valiantly control his gag reflex just looking at her.

Fine.

He looked away from her wide eyes to the brace around her neck, a reminder of how she’d almost died on his watch.

Fuck it. Fine.

_

There was no night and day in space. The stars surrounded you in a sea of black constantly when you weren’t planetside and susceptible to a regularly rotating sun.

            There was what you could call a system for sleeping on the Quadrant, of course. It went more or less like this: You slept when you want, where you want, and if you don’t want to sleep, but the rest of the crew does, you sure as shit better not do anything to jeopardize that (unless, ya know, the ship was being attacked).

            That was unless your name was Groot and you had a curfew for a reason.

Rocket had been sitting in a room where one of the Quadrant’s engines could be accessed. He’d unofficially claimed the space as his workshop shortly after destroying Ego, and it was where he spent the better part of his alone time working on whatever he wanted. One of the better outcomes of upgrading to a bigger ship had definitely been being able to have a larger private space where he could put together the odd bomb. He didn’t have to hear Peter or Gamora bitching at him for leaving his gadgets strewn about where they could be set off at any moment as much anymore.

            The engine room also doubled as a stationary place, which meant that Groot, whom would inevitably get lost without onsight direction, knew exactly where to go if he needed Rocket for whatever reason. The tiny Flora Colossus didn’t spend quite as much with Rocket as the original Groot had, but he had his moments where the raccoon was the friend that Groot felt safest with.

            Groot also happened to know that Rocket often stayed up late, and it seemed like Groot had decided that tonight was going to be a night to try sneaking up on him, never figuring it out that Rocket’s senses were sharp as knives. He always knew where Groot was, no matter how well the twig hid in the shadows. 

“Ya know I hate it when you hover,” Rocket sighed. Much of his attention was still on the blaster in his paws as he spoke. “Jus’ come out already. I ain’t mad at ya for being up past your bedtime, Groot.”

He was met with further silence, until –

“I am not Groot.” The soft, lilting voice has his ears swiveling back in immediate alert, black lips drawn into a snarl.

            He watched as Mantis came out of the shadows slowly, head bowed and looking at the floor as if it were fascinating compared to a pissed off cybernetic raccoon.

“The fuck are you here for?” Rocket growled, feeling a mite or two of satisfaction as the girl cringed at his words. She probably didn’t even understand what that word was, but his tone was enough to get her shaking in her boots, so to speak.

            Still, she didn’t scurry away in fear as he half-assumed she would. Instead she stood there, nervously wringing her hands.

“I – I wanted to come and apologize.” She said slowly.

            “Ha!” Rocket laughed a completely sarcastic and not-at-all-real laugh. “I don’t need your apologies, lady. I don’t need apologies from anybody.”

“Yes,” She continued, still looking at the ground. “Drax said that you would not accept it, but I wanted to tell you that I’m sorry anyway.”

            He huffed, practically slamming the holt of the dismembered gun onto the grey, tectonic floor. Mantis jumped where she stood at the sound, finally looking up in alarm (as if he was actually gonna shoot her. Seriously.)

                        Rocket pinched the bridge of his snout. “Well, Drax was right for once in his thick-headed existence. You came and you said it. What’re ya still standing there for?”

            Big black eyes blinked at him from the half-dark; Rocket was almost sure this girl was taking a long ass time to just process what he’d said. He had no idea how Empaths used their abilities, but he figured that this one just had to be a rare breed of stupid to not recognize his foul mood, which was growing fouler the longer he had to put up with her being there and invading his space. Couldn’t she at least see that he was working?

            He was about to say as much, just about to, after withstanding the awkward quiet that had permeated the room which was fast becoming unbearable.

            Until Mantis burst into tears. “I’m sorry for thinking you were a puppy!”

“I’m sorry for calling you a puppy in that lab! And on the ship all the time! And even on Berhart, whether you heard me or not!” She continued to wail, again heedless of Rocket’s mood shift as he gawked at her as well as her volume. She wasn’t just wailing, she was wailing loudly.

            “Gamora explained it, that you hate it when people treat you like a pet! And I felt it, in the lab, when we were hiding together!”

            Mantis kept on, frame starting to shake, as Rocket put down the blaster to dart toward her, stopping less than 10 feet in front of her.

            “Hey!” He yell-whispered. “Quit that cryin’! You’re gonna wake everyone up from here to Xandar!”

She began to shake, dropping into a crouch with her hands over her eyes. The antennae that usually stood like stalks above her forehead had started to droop down while she continued to sob.

            “But I’m sorry! I really, truly am sorry!”

Rocket reared away once a particularly high-pitched whine flew out of her mouth. The sound of it was like getting a stab directly in his hearing implants.

                        “God! Lady! Take it easy already! I get it! You’re sorry!” He covered his ears. “Apology accepted or whatever, just stop cryin’!”

            Slowly but surely, his hasty forgiveness brought Mantis out of her stupor. After a few moments, the woman’s whining and whimpering quieted to a bout of hiccups and quiet sniffles until she finally looked at Rocket again with those ginormous eyes.

“Yeesh.”

Once he felt confident that she wasn’t going to start bawling again, Rocket walked back to where his gun lay. He sighed in resignation as he felt Mantis pull herself up and follow him – at least it was better than having her pierce his eardrums and/or having to deal with everyone getting out of bed and scold him for making her cry.

As long as she was quiet, Rocket figured he could do his best to ignore her presence. He sat back down and began where he’d left off with assembling its pieces into formation, acutely aware of Mantis deciding to sit crisscross in front of him and watch. He detested hovering, that hadn’t been a lie, but the process of putting his weapon together had a calming effect. Soon he was finished, and took a moment to appreciate how, when he held up to the starlight, its shiny cobalt and grey metal gleamed.

            Mantis gasped quietly as she too stared at the firearm, reacting as if it was a firework display.

“It’s beautiful.” She breathed. The light from the shining metal reflected in her black eyes. “Will I be able to make something like that too?”

Rocket pulled the gun back down and into his lap, already unscrewing the barrel to begin taking it apart.

            He stilled.

Oh, yeah. I’m supposed to be teaching her stuff.

He hadn’t exactly forgotten, but he’d had serious doubts that the rest of the crew thought he was going to teach Mantis how put a blaster together – or any kind of weapon. He’d planned to do the bare minimum in fact, and simply give her the rundown of the Quadrant such as where the emergency exits were, and where she could find the autopilot when they were all too busy to fly the ship themselves. As far as maintenance, it wouldn’t hurt to show her how to change a lightbulb or two either, but handling weapons? No.

That was his job.

“Uh…” Rocket moved to tell her as much, but there was that hopeful expression on her face that made his stomach churn. “Well…”

            “You put it together so quickly!” Mantis went on as if he hadn’t said a thing. “I barely saw your hands moving before you were done.”

The raccoon’s chest instinctively swelled with pride. “Of course not! Ain’t anybody that can put a gun back together to blow a guy up better ‘an me!”

            “Oh!” Mantis exclaimed, imperceptive to his conceited boasting, or uncaring if she had wits enough to try and get on his good side. “You must have the fastest reflexes in the galaxy!”

“You got one thing right, lady.” Rocket grinned at her wickedly. He’d already taken his weapon apart piece by piece during their short conversation and was building it up again. “No dog can come close to my abilities.”

            Mantis’s expression faltered at his sobering words, as though she’d forgotten the ten minutes’ prior when she’d been crying her eyes out in apology.

            “That is true.” She said softly. One of her hands left the safety of her lap to land on the cool floor beneath them and she began to trace the line between two metallic plates. “I should have known that. It was thoughtless of me to treat you like that, when I know what it’s like to be thought of as a pet.”

“Yeah?” Rocket flashed her his teeth in a mean grin. “When you were Ego’s pet?”

            Mantis nodded, teary-eyed. “Yes. I was treated terribly when… when I was Ego’s pet.”

Rocket gazed at her, taking in her obvious distress over having to recall living with that Jackass of a planet. He could feel the uncomfortable prickle of what was fast-becoming a commonplace emotion with him: guilt.

                        “Drax told me that you could’a put him to sleep.” Rocket said suddenly. “So, why din’t you do that and high-tail it outta that shithole?”

            In the back of his mind he knew that it wasn’t that simple, that it wouldn’t have been that easy. When you were raised by abusive, psychopathic assholes, you were conditioned to believe that you were powerless and inferior. It became like second-nature.

Hell, Rocket not only knew what that was like, but in the back of his mind he could just barely recall believing he might actually die without those scientists. The very same scientists that had torn him apart and reassembled him for kicks.  

                        Likewise, he knew it was unfair to be so hostile to this girl, but being defensive was second-nature too. He didn’t know how many hands that fed him which he had bitten in all his years, but that was a mild sort o’ metaphor for Rocket anyway. It would be better to say he’d blown up guys for doing little more than looking at him wrong, so Mantis was, admittedly, getting more courtesy from him than most for would for wanting to pet him in the first place.

Mantis’s face had twisted in an unidentifiable expression, but it looked like she was in pain with the way her brow furrowed. He watched her look down, black eyes trained on her own hands that were once again delicately folded in her lap, and the guilt inside his stomach made him squirm.

            Rocket sighed, rubbing the back of his head. “Look, I din’t mean to upset ya – “

“I think,” Mantis started, “I think I was afraid to even think about leaving. There was nowhere else for me to go. Ego and his children were the only company I had, but Ego was the only one who remained at all times.”

                        She looked back up at him meaningfully. “And there was no one to help me leave the planet. I didn’t have a Drax, or a Groot, or a Gamora, or a Peter, or a Kraglin.”

            Mantis’s gaze wavered slightly as soon as she became aware of the fact that she had Rocket’s full attention. She suddenly looked… shy. “I didn’t have a Rocket to help me find a way out either.”

I was scared to leave, to be alone.  

                                    Rocket inhaled sharply, but his heart wasn’t in it to try and make a mockery of her words (though he was acutely aware of several snarky responses that he could dish out if he wanted to).

“Prob’ly… Din’t have a ship either,” Rocket eventually supplied, a lame attempt to smooth over his own conscience.

To his surprise (and relief), Mantis understood him immediately. She perked up with a bright, only slightly creepy smile.

            “No! I did not have a ship.” She giggled, “That would have been most helpful too!”  

_

Rocket had never liked to be touched and that wasn’t about to change.

“So you just put your hand on somebody and you know what they’re feeling?” He scratched at his neck idly as if he wasn’t all that curious. He’d been feigning a lack of curiosity the entire time he’d forced himself to converse with the woman, to reign in the mixture of discomfort and anxiety (and genuine intrigue – Rocket did like to know anyone and everything he dealt with piece by piece).

“Yes.” Mantis answered brightly. “I can sense emotions, and I can even…”

The girl had not stopped smiling since he’d deigned to speak to her, but here she faltered slightly. Her gaze shifted from side to side, switching to Rocket sitting there for a moment, before choosing her next words carefully.

                        “I can even help others when they are… stressed or angry, or scared.”

“Yeah?” Rocket asked. “How so?”

            “Oh. Well,” She shifted around to face him better, shoulders tensed, “I can touch someone and alter their moods. If… If Drax was angry, I could make him feel amused or content instead. But only for a short while!”

            Rocket’s ears twitched. He contemplated this new information as Mantis continued to sit and fidget. She looked like a guilty Xandarian preschooler, fiddling with her own clothes as she was wont to do when afraid of what others might think around her. It was habit that had no doubt come from trying to appease Ego when she’d served him, and Rocket would be all-out lying if he said that it didn’t bother him to see. There was no reason to feel guilty for telling him what she was capable of, he’d been the one who’d asked in the first place.

“Eh… Well can you show me how ya do it?” Damn his sudden sympathetic streak; the things he did for these people.  

Mantis’s head snapped up and she gawked at him freely before her perky expression returned. If Mantis’s ginormous pupils were capable of producing stars, then Rocket was sure he’d see them right then, twinkling in her massive black ogles.

She nodded vigorously before her hand shot out and she reached for him.

            “Wait,” Mantis stopped short. “Is this another practical joke?”

“No, no,” Rocket nearly snapped. He showed valiant restraint in attempting to keep still and remain casual when all he wanted was to get this over with. You’d think that after living on the ship for as  long as she had that Mantis would be able to pick up on body language, and understand that Rocket was trying to retain some form of dignity.

            Then again, she spent a good deal of time with Drax, and that guy was barely competent in interpreting how people felt himself.

                                    “I want you to. Come on, show me.”

            She waited for an instant, long enough for Rocket to start getting irritated again. Damn it, but why did she have to look so hurt at the thought of him potentially biting her again, as he’d done on Berhart?

Slowly, Mantis’s hand reached out toward him and gently rested on top of his head, right between his ears.

Rocket inhaled as though he’d been punched the moment she made contact. A tingling sensation fluttered in his chest and began branching out everywhere within his body, from his center to his head and back down to his toes. It felt like sunlight was streaming in and warming his fur.

And If he were being honest, he’d say it felt pretty damn nice.

“What… what is this?” He asked in a daze, not quite recognizing his own voice with how mellow and not-at-all acerbic it was.

“You’re feeling what I am feeling right now!” Mantis was beaming once again.

He could barely feel her fingers move in gentle circles between his ears, and he found that he didn’t mind it that much.

“I’m happy!”

Chapter Text

Mantis followed Rocket onto the Quadrant’s bridge, where the steering and control board were located. It was bereft of anyone else, including their Captain, whom was currently fast asleep in his bunk several rooms away.

            She’d never given much thought to how her new home could fly by itself sometimes, but she shied away from asking her companion while he made his way toward the main holographic projector on the ship. It was a two-way communication device, that much Mantis knew, but she understood next to nothing about it worked and produced images from different places.

Yet, she was meant to help Rocket repair it after it had shut down unexpectedly and ‘proved that the Quadrant was a piece of shit not worth fixing’, as Rocket had put it.

The task daunted her the closer they got to it, until her teammate was unscrewing a wide, rectangular panel and motioning for her to get closer so that they could inspect the issue together.

She must have waited too long to go near it, being as unsure and anxious as she was, because Rocket rolled his eyes at her with scarcely mitigated frustration before long.

“Don’ just pussy out before you even start.” He returned to her and began to shove her toward the board and past the multitude of seats on either side of them, much to her surprise. She could feel his claws prickling the back of her thighs through her pants as he muscled her over.

 Once he’d planted her in front of their designated workspace, Rocket pulled open the panel and out came large cylindrical tubes of varying colors. Sparks flew out from the unorganized heap which smelt of burning and must.

Mantis’s nose wrinkled with the scent, but she gaped at the mess on the floor.  

“These are conduits for the lasers in the ship.” Rocket explained. “They’re there to guide the lasers toward these here crystal mirrors. When a laser hits the glass, it bounces from one heat conducting tube to the other and that laser travels through another tube to the next mirror and yadda, yadda, yadda. It keeps goin’ until the beam makes it up to the receiver, and by then the image’s been pieced together so once it transmits, ya get to see whoever’s ugly mug lights up on the projection screen.”

Mantis knelt down to get a better look as he spoke. She looked at everything with unadulterated curiosity, already used to the smell by the time Rocket had finished his explanation.

“I did not realize there were so many things one needed for their ship to send and receive messages.” The woman mused aloud.

“Not many people bother to learn.” Rocket said dryly, as if that were a crime.

            “But lucky you, you’re gonna figure it out with help from somebody who actually knows a thing or two.”

            He grabbed hold of several of the colorful tubes and began to pull them out of the hatch. The conductor cylinders were much longer than they initially looked, as Rocket could walk back several feet from where Mantis knelt by the access and continue reeling them out. She watched them move as though mesmerized by the sight, noting that the sparks she’d previously seen had been caused by dangerously frayed wires that fell from different corners in the dark of the space like diverging, rainbow veins.

            “It’s so pretty.” She murmured. “This one is coming undone, though.”

She pointed to one of the wires, a yellow one which had been falling from where it’d been tapered down and attached to a green tube, and made to readjust it.

“Wait! Don’t!” Rocket dropped the ones he’d been yanking to race over to her and stop her from touching the dangerous wire. He made it in time to swipe at her hand, before he was electrocuted and began to yell as thousands of volts of electricity coarsed through his body. Mantis screamed back, terrified, and desperately pulled at the combined tube and wire to stop the assault.

“Rocket!” Mantis pushed at the tubbing and wiring as fast as she could, having to grab it with two hands and haul it back toward the crawlspace. She reached for the raccoon, tears already streaming down her face, before sitting rigidly as his hand shot up to stop her.  

            He hacked. “No more waterworks!”

A pale plume of smoke was emanating from his body as he continued to cough and wheeze. The static created by the electricity had raised his air on end, making him look like sentient ball of charred fluff.

“Are you okay?” Mantis asked anyway. Her hands had come up to rest over her mouth and she stared at him with saucer-like wide eyes. She was no longer full on crying, but remained on the verge of it from guilt.

Rocket closed his eyes for a moment, willing himself to remain calm. “This happens more of’en than you think. It ain’t a big deal.”

            He sighed, hastily flattening the fur around his face.

“I can take it, alright? Better if I was shocked than you, anyway. Or burnt, if the tubes disconnected at the source. That’d be somethin’ ta cry about, since you don’t got a single enhancement or piece of cybernetic technology in your fragile body.”

Rocket lifted his head, narrowing his eyes at her, more specifically at her hands, in thought.

“We should prob’ly get you some gloves that are actually useful ‘fore we start again.”  

Mantis blinked before nodding slowly. She had not spared a thought to herself, or over how she was one of the only members aboard that had had no operations done on her person – aside from Peter, whom had retained all his organic body parts despite having lived most of his life through dangerous situations.

Rocket shuffled further away from her to the pilot’s seat, muttering over this and that, leaving Mantis to swing from side to side where she stood, unsure of what to do next.

Eventually, Mantis made to clean up their workspace and returned their tools into their rightful shapes in Rocket’s toolbox. Rocket himself sat on the arm of the pilot’s chair, licking at the back of his paws before smoothing over his singed fur. The taciturnity that followed deflated of tension by the time she’d put everything away, leaving a comfortable atmosphere that suited her just fine.

“Groot? What the hell are you doing? Get out, ya da’ast idjit! It ain’t fixed yet!”

Mantis turned her attention toward Rocket, alarmed. She looked at just the right moment to see Groot, slightly larger than when she’d first made his acquaintance, kick at a red tube peeking out from the access panel as though it were his mortal enemy: an Orloni. The entire thing tore off and flew to the other side of the room with a screeching burst of steam, startling Mantis right out of her skin.  

_

Mantis knew a variety of emotions and how deeply they integrated with one’s thoughts and actions, better than anyone she’d ever met.

Even so, Mantis had not experienced every feeling she was aware of, or to be more specific, she had not had many experiences to attach this variety of emotions to. It was a bit of challenge to take apart what she experienced and compare it to what she could sense from others, or what she’d previously felt from another person.   

 She was certain she knew what this sensation that she was constantly feeling was however, when she thought about it. When she could work together with Rocket, whether it was in fixing something as simple as a tear in a seat to trying to keep the engine from bursting into flames, inside she was overwhelmed with giddiness. Like with most of their friends, the feeling was fast growing as time wore on, as the ship began to become more like home.

It was a funny feeling, the kind that filled you up with a not-quite-tangible miasma of warmth yet was just as comparable to floating. She likened it to how she felt when laughing with Drax, or when Gamora spoke to her kindly. It was like holding Groot’s hand and letting him swing her arm to and fro merrily, allowing her to feel the bubbly, untroubled joy that he seemingly always did. 

But then it wasn’t quite that way either. There was something else that set her emotion toward Rocket apart from the rest of their odd little family. It was something that made Mantis flush lime green when next to him, that made Mantis’s feelers glow like bright, flashing signs above her forehead, that made her stare at Rocket for long periods of time without noticing until he had to acknowledge it himself because it was ‘getting kind of creepy’.

Mantis was self-aware enough to know that she was an earnest person at heart, but this happiness that flourished in her heart came to her without warning and was one of the sincerest things she’d ever experienced. It wasn’t something dictated by a need to please, to appease or interact with proper social ordinance, as much as it simply was there.  

_

They were sitting on the floor of the engine room, and while it might’ve been a health hazard for anyone else, Mantis didn’t care much.  She was thrilled that Rocket had invited her to share his lunch break with him, and had accepted it with all the grace yet barely contained excitement of one whom had been invited to dine with Nova Prime herself.

“I often eat with Drax, unless we are all together. This is a welcome change.” Mantis beamed while holding a bowl of broth in her lap.

“I bet it’s even better not havin’ to sit with the big buffoon while he slurps.” Rocket said flatly while his snout was halfway in his bowl. “He eats like a pig.”

            Across from him, Mantis’s expression faltered. An instinctive feeling of defensiveness welled up within her for her friend, but she reminded herself that Rocket and Drax were friends too. She was still on a learning curve when it came to the group’s brand of humor, which would often include insults and yelling from across the ship.

“He is very loud, yes!” Mantis agreed. “Sometimes it is hard to speak when we are eating. Some… Sometimes I cannot even hear myself think!”

Rocket snorted into his bowl. He lifted his head to laugh, scoffing through his teeth as flecks of liquid dripped down his whiskers and chin. Internally, Mantis found it unbearably adorable, but she refrained from saying as much out loud.

            When they’d both settled again, Mantis trusted herself enough to speak. “I have been trying to remember the colors of the wires that match the laser conducts. I apologize for being a slow learner. I am absorbing your instruction, please don’t worry!”

“Eh, you ain’t a bad student.” Rocket got straight to the point before she could continue with her prostrations.

“Least you listen. Groot was bad enough when he was a sprout. Now he don’t do nothin’ but play those stupid games on his datapad all day long.” Rocket scratched behind one flippant ear then reached into his jumpsuit and pulled out one of their comms.

Mantis recognized it as being the one that Gamora had snapped in half during their last planet-side outing, right before she’d gone off to drag Peter and Kraglin from a “den of debauchery”– or a casino, as Mantis had been told later.

“Oh.” Mantis said, wide-eyed. “He doesn’t listen to his master at all?”

Rocket stopped fitting the two broken halves together to look at her sharply, hackles raised.

“I ain’t his master.”

Mantis lowered her head, sensing the sudden mood shift with embarrassment and slight fear. This wasn’t the first time she’d been at the mercy of another’s mood swings, but it wasn’t something you could make peace with – not in her case.

            “I apologize.” Mantis said. “I did not mean to make you angry. I know that Groot is very important to you.”

Rocket kept glaring at her until he seemed satisfied that she was remorseful and returned to working on the radio in his hands.

            He said, “I get it. You’ve only got Ego as a basis for comparison when it comes to relationships. But that ain’t how this works with Groot ‘n me. I don’t own him. He’s my buddy. My friend.”

“You are family.” Mantis murmured. “His father.”

Rocket hesitated before nodding in affirmation. He wasn’t going to deny that, even if it had never been stated so bluntly before.

            Mantis looked between Rocket and the floor, pondering. If she could have asserted her knowledge of anything before meeting the guardians, Mantis might have imagined she knew what a father was. At present, she was nearly certain that she knew next to nothing about the subject. Ego had claimed fatherhood proudly, had seemed to shine merely at the idea right before her eyes long ago, but then he’d throw the whole idea away when, one another the other, his children continued to disappoint him.

“I wondered if Ego was my father, for a long time.” She spoke without fully realizing it. “He told me that my mother had not wanted me. I never knew her, so I was not sad.

He took me to be raised on his planet, and he taught me how to speak and how to read and he called his children my brothers and sisters when they were brought to him. I thought he was kind.”

 “But he never asked me to make the Light come out of my hands. And when I grew older, Ego would not speak to me unless it was for a purpose. He explained that I was supposed to serve him, and help him sleep. If I did as I was told, he might tell me a story of one of the many planets he had been to.”

            Mantis blinked back tears. She looked down at her hands while fidgeting with the gloves that covered them. “If I did not do what he wanted, he…”

Rocket faced the woman with a sickened feeling brewing in his chest.

“Ego wasn’t your father.” He stated.

            Mantis shook her head forcefully. She kept her head down, to hide her tears, but her sniffling was the only thing that could be heard in the room aside from the quiet whirr of the engine.

“Rocket?”

“Yeah?”

She leaned toward him.

“Am I your buddy, too?” She tried to hide the longing with indifference, but it was difficult to fake.

_

            They were taking a vacation. Or that’s what Peter had called it.  

Mantis let her hands fall to her sides and glide about the tall, lilac-colored field. She walked near the edge of the forest where they had landed on, not entirely comfortable with going behind the trees to explore the moon further. Perhaps it was silly, but she was nervous at the idea of no longer being able to see the Quadrant while she walked about, unlike most of her friends, whom had practically dove in.

            The rustling of the trees had her craning her neck upward, hoping to catch a glimpse at one of the scaly birds that nested there. It was difficult to tell the trillions of tiny leaves apart from anything else, however, as they wavered with the gentle breeze passing through.

            Above the sky was soft orange and purple hues, making the world appear as though it were on the brink of twilight. Mantis wondered if it was always like that, and perhaps that had been one of the deciding factors in Peter wanting to land them there. She could remember being fascinated with his endearing story of Missouri, Earth and spending sunsets listening to Awesome Mix. Vol1 with his mother.

She barely noticed when the rustling of the trees became more like thrashing, or the figure leaping down from the bows before there was a sudden weight landing on her shoulders. She gasped, almost losing her balance before she managed to right herself again. Careful paws gripped her shoulders, ever mindful of the claws attached, as though in reassurance.

“Relax, bug-eyes, it’s only me.”

                        Mantis turned her head to the side and there was Rocket, perfectly balanced on her narrow shoulders. She grinned at the sight of him, only to get assaulted by his cold nose and bristly fur as he rubbed his face against hers.  

            “You’re glowin’ again.” Rocket murmured against her hair.

“You startled me!”

            “No,” Rocket smirked. “All over.”

Mantis lifted a hand to her antennae and felt familiar heat there, heat which continued as she trailed her hand along the side of her face. Her cheeks were hot as she flushed a bright, lime green.

“Oh.”

            Mantis pressed both hands to her face and shook with laughter as she attempted to hide her embarrassment. Rocket’s frame vibrated while he too snickered; he weaved around her upper body, only to sit on her shoulders and rest his head atop of hers fondly.

_

            Mantis could feel perspiration on her brow in the middle of concentrating on angling glass, but there was little time to try and wipe it away. She was bent over on her knees, head surrounded by a plethora of large green, red, purple and yellow wires. Rocket had instructed her over their importance as acting catalysts for the laser beam that would make its way into the angled crystal panels beneath, bouncing around inside to pass around a holographic message.

This was the fourth time she’d tried to put the wires in the right place by herself, and she was determined to figure it out on her own. The only time she’d been able to connect them together correctly had been when Rocket had been guiding her every step of the way.

“I think I have got it! What do you think?” Mantis crawled out as fast as she could to make room for Rocket. The raccoon moved inward to inspect it, his fur tickling her shoulder as he bent beside her.

Rocket raised a paw to manhandle the heavy tubing, and his dark eyes flitted about the area critically. At his side, Mantis looked from her handiwork and back to Rocket as she held her breath.

Rocket scraped his claws against one of the tubes before turning to look at her.

“Looks good. A little loose, but good.” His neutral voice and conceding tone did not quite dispel the tiny, proud grin that stretched across his lips.

Mantis squealed with delight.

            “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, though. Gotta make sure it works.” Rocket gestured for Mantis to get back before slamming the panel closed.

He climbed up to the control board of the ship, and Mantis watched as he moved to swipe at a round, blue switch close to the steering wheel. When he brought a paw down a large beam of light shown from the crown-shaped receiver and a loading screen with text biding them hello appeared.

“I did it.” Mantis breathed, her eyes reflected the static blue that was the shimmering hologram with wonder.

            She looked over at Rocket and grinned widely. “I did it! I fixed it!”

Was this what it was like, feeling proud of oneself without doubt?

Rocket stared at her, watching her practically radiating joy like a star radiating light in deep space. There were grease spots smudged on her chin and sweaty forehead, and her hair stood up in places from when she’d still gotten zapped while handling the bits of circuitry deeper within the hologram’s access panel; his lips twitched halfway between a sneer and a smile at the sight.

He pushed the switch again to turn the graphic off, and when he looked back at her, his eyes had a crinkling at their edge that caused the glee inside of her chest to expand down to her toes. If he wanted to take credit for her success – as he was the one whom had taught her to fix it in the first place, after all – he managed to keep it to himself.  

“Not bad for your first task. Good job, bug lady.”

Chapter Text

Although they were out in a public setting in a planet comprised of mainly urban infrastructure, the Guardians had shamelessly decided to have an impromptu domestic with little regard for those around them. Mantis, for her part, stood just outside of their circle, though not out of embarrassment, but rather to ensure that she didn’t get in the way of the discussion.

                  In the Quadrant, it would be just the same. Mantis had found a little alcove not far from what was considered the dining/living room for their team, which she would often take respite in and not interfere unless called to do so.

“We should be celebrating!” Peter was exclaimed.

                  “We don’t even know how Empaths react to huge crowds, numbnuts!” Rocket growled back.

“Dude, she helped us big time with destroying Ego – and took an asteroid to the head without dying – I think she can handle a crowd. Besides, Mantis is becoming a real part of the team and we’re already in a place that’s loaded with clubs and bars! How is that not something to party about?”

Gamora looked up from her nailbeds. “You think anything and everything is reason enough for celebration.”

 “Yeah. I grew up with a whole ship of lunatic criminals wanted dead or alive all over the galaxy. Every day you woke up was worth celebrating, so yeah.” Peter stated matter-of-factly.

                  Rocket scoffed. “Is that what those idiots told ya?”

“Who’s going to watch Groot?” Gamora asked, now pointedly looking at Peter.  

“He’s like… what? 13 in human years? That’s old enough to take care of yourself.”

“Yeah, uh-huh, try again dickhead.” Rocket snapped. “We ain’t gonna leave him by himself. Who knows what he’d break while we’re gone.”

Peter gestured over to the Flora Colossus. “He’s distracted with his video games! I bet he wouldn’t even notice we’d left before we got back.” He was, indeed, absorbed with his datapad.

Mantis shrunk further back from her friends the longer their shouting match continued. While the power of emotion was not as potent if she didn’t have physical contact with the person or people feeling them, she was still able to read feelings somewhat from a distance. And the feeling between her teammates plummeting as if they had been submerged beneath icy waters. 

The air around them was significantly tense, as onlookers stopped and to watch and listen to this unconventional assortment of friends.

“I don’t care what kinda rules Yondu made up when he left ya on this ship to go out whorin’ and drinkin’. Groot is not gonna be here alone, without supervision.”

Rocket snarled the last of his words, sizing Peter up and down with barely concealed anger. While Peter did have height on his side, Rocket looked like a true beast when his fangs were bared and his puppy dog eyes were narrowed into slits – or at least Mantis thought so. 

“I will watch our wooden friend.” Drax interjected while close by and picking debris from one of his many knives. He never seemed to pay that much attention during their meetings, making Mantis wonder if he’d only tuned in at the last minute.

Still, she turned to look at Drax, brow creased. Anxiety began to crawl up from her belly and into her throat as his words sunk in. She liked spending time with all their friends, but going into a new place that promised a lot of people was frightening without Drax. His presence had become a source of reassurance and dependability, with his broad trunk of a body and ever-present booming laugh.  

She trusted him.

                  Peter rubbed the back of his head, suddenly pink around the ears. “Don’t… Man, don’t call Groot that…”

“Why? Is he not our friend and made of wood?” Drax asked.

                  “I mean, yeah, but it sounds like… Look! That’s not important!” Peter held both arms akimbo. “What’s important is that Drax is volunteering to take one for the team and be babysitter. So! Mantis can come with us for once and have a good time. That doesn’t sound so bad, does it?” 

                  Gamora huffed a sigh but didn’t say anything more. Rocket still looked to be stewing over the whole idea, with his teeth bared and shining in the light from the paneled ceiling above. And to Mantis, the scene in front of her looked very like their discussion weeks prior, when Rocket had been forced to train her after her first mission. A first mission which had turned into a near death experience.

                   The overall feeling in the air was just as dark, dark enough that Mantis took a few breaths before she marshaled enough courage to speak. “It does not sound bad.”

                  All eyes were on her in an instant.

“I would like to explore more of the places I’ve never seen.” She tried to smile encouragingly, even if it made no difference since she hadn’t perfected the expression yet.

At least Peter was grinning, grinning at her in appreciation. “Yeah! Alright, Mantis!”

At the same time, Rocket raised a paw as if to gesture that she stop, “Mantis, ya don’t have ta –”

Mantis interrupted him, although the words tumbled from her mouth too quickly. “I want to go with you guys.”

Mantis sat perfectly still, not daring to move a muscle as Ego paced in front of her. She focused on her hands intensely, though not too much so. She needed to keep one ear open, so to speak, if Ego called her over and ordered her to do something. It wasn’t likely that he was even paying attention to Mantis, but she couldn’t afford to be distracted – even when she personally, desperately wished to at least wring her hands anxiously.

                  It was not good to leave Ego wanting.

Currently, while his expression shifted from worry to a look of excitement that she could recognize, Mantis felt his general air as being one of anxiety. It was truly curious. She’s never felt such nervousness entangled in Ego’s usual demeanor which broadcasted a combination of self-assurance, superiority, and apathy. Yet here they were, slowly careening through space until Ego sensed the presence of his long-lost son: Peter Quill.

Mantis wondered what Peter would be like. Would he be like their talkative, four-armed sister Magellan, whom had disappeared from Ego’s planet five standard years ago? Would he be like Nova, the boy child made of colorful feathers whom liked to hoard bits and pieces of the land that was Ego beneath his and Mantis’s feet? Would he be bipedal, or slither around the floor like their tail-bodied sister Jadeite? Would he have horns upon his head and eyes on the palms of his hands like their brother Leo, and be just as stammering yet polite as he had been?

                  Mantis did not ask these questions aloud, although a tiny voice in the back of her head wondered what would happen if she did, just once, and wondered if Ego would be able to recall his children as well as she could to give an answer.

Ego stopped and convulsed where he stood. The body he had made rippled all over, as though he were host to other, wriggling and slug-like creatures.

He turned to Mantis, and smiled. “He’s here!” 

                  They’d been celebrating for a long time. Mantis knew it, because the sky had gone from a pale green to a blotchy deep blue and that was enough in her mind to signify that it was nighttime on the planet Korova.

                  The young woman had sought refuge outside of their current location, and stared at the five small moons that arced above her instead. Few people were out and about when there was a night club packed full of cheerful, drunken people of all species and creeds. Mantis didn’t begrudge them that, in fact she only reveled in the sense of clarity that the open night air provided.

While alone on Ego’s planet, Mantis had been only one of two sentient beings there. She had never known how long she had lived on the planet, for Ego had proclaimed different backstories for her over time. She didn’t doubt, however, that her continued existence upon it was a relatively new development, for while there were visitors a plenty but no residents to speak of.

                  Suffice it to say that, she had not experienced a magnitude of extreme emotion packed into one extremely crowded place. Ever.

It was like enduring an airwave static that disoriented her throughout the day, like enduring a throbbing ache in the back of the brain without respite. She had, at one point, become uncoordinated enough to stagger into several patrons at the last shop they’d been in and had spent much of the stopover apologized repeatedly until Gamora pulled her away. The warrior woman had asked Mantis then if she was feeling alright, and like a fool Mantis had said she was perfectly fine, just clumsy, and had no objection to continuing. She didn’t want to displease, to make them feel guilty on her behalf.

Yet she couldn’t help regretting that choice, a little bit, once they’d decided to genuinely go into a club, the very club that Mantis had escaped. Within the octagonal building behind her was a dank underground filled with sweaty bodies that one could hardly see as well as keep from touching on accident. In addition, the pulsating music did nothing to help with Mantis’s growing weariness and progressive headache.

It was far more peaceful outside. The woman closed her eyes to the moons after a while, and grew drowsy after a while, head lolling on her shoulders.

Until the sound of blaster fire and breaking glass caused her to jerk awake.

                  Mantis spun around, in time to see her friend Peter backing out of the club’s doorway (she was learning to expect one of her friends being the source behind damaged public property, but there were still occasions where it was unanticipated).  

“Sweet Jesus! This is why we can’t take you anywhere, man!” Peter was dragging Rocket out by his jumpsuit while the raccoon clawed at the air.

                  “Lemme go, Quill! I’m gonna rip his fuckin’ face off!” Rocket thundered.

Immediately, Mantis came to stand beside them, half-afraid and half-intrigued by whatever was going on to get Rocket riled up. If she had to guess, the woman might’ve presumed that whatever had ticked off her teammate could have been anything as small as a look perceived wrong. He hadn’t been in the best of moods for the entire night they’d perused this planet, it seemed justified in that sense.

“What has happened?” Mantis cried.

“Ranger Rick’s gone feral.” Peter said, in-between wrestling Rocket’s arms to his sides and avoiding the beast’s claws. “All cus he thought he heard some guy ‘insulting one of us’”.

                  “I don’t think I heard the jackoff, I did hear ‘em!” Rocket barked. “Let go, ya asshole. I’m gonna go back in an’ teach that fucker a lesson!”

                                    “Are you always gonna be like this? We’ve been banned from like thirty bars already!”

“You’re exaggeratin’ that! And if we’ve been banned, it ain’t ever cus a’ me!” Rocket turned to give Peter a truly nasty sneer.

“Whatever.” Peter grunted. It took a generous amount of exertion to restrain their shorter companion from going on a rampage in the adjacent bar, and Mantis found that quite admirable.

“Mantis?” Peter started. “Do you think you could take Mr. Can Do No Wrong here and put him on a timeout back at the ship?”

                  “I’m not a fuckin’ infant, Quill!” Rocket all but screamed in frustration.

“Mr… Oh, take Rocket back to the ship?” Mantis inquired.

Peter shoved Rocket face-first into the ground, ignoring Rocket’s insults that were becoming more and more vile. “Yeah.”

The raccoon scrapped at the ground for a few more moments, and the sight made Mantis’s insides squirm uncomfortably. Peter wasn’t really hurting their friend, as Mantis had seen Rocket endure worse pressures before, but it still made her feel slightly uncomfortable.  

“I… Suppose I could.” Mantis eventually replied. By then, Rocket had exhausted himself, or was too drunk or too stoned to put up another fight.

                  Peter sighed. “Good, good. I’m gonna go gather up Kraglin and Gamora and we’ll meet you guys back at the ship in twenty, tops.”

                                    “Okay!” Mantis said.

She watched Peter stride back into the nightclub, sustaining an agreeable expression even as the man’s back was turned, before looking at Rocket with worriedly. He had pulled himself up and sat hunched on the ground, staring at the grass beneath their feet in silence.

                  The sight made Mantis’s heart ache. Rocket wasn’t supposed to be sad, he was what Kraglin called a “regular ol’ spitfire” – hypermotivated, passionate, always ready with a sharp comeback for any insult. Sadness just didn’t suit him.  

“Rocket?” She said.

                  The raccoon barely grunted in response before he slumped over to his side. Mantis instinctively rushed to catch him, to keep him from slamming into the ground a second time, and realized in the same instant that she had put her hands on his body.  

                                                      Mantis had desperately wanted to hold and pet Rocket when she’d first seen him, but to have him in her arms now felt… not wrong, but it made her uncomfortable. He didn’t seem to notice however, that he was being held or that she was anxious. Rocket simply shifted in her arms and stared up at her with entirely unfocused eyes.

                                    “May I carry you to the ship?” She asked him in a small voice. At least he was still conscious.

She didn’t hold out much hope for him to agree to that request, and was a tiny bit hopeful that he would decline and get to his own feet. The feelings he was currently broadcasting were sending painfully noticeable tingles throughout her body, tingles that made her feel giddy and loopy and limbless.

                  But then he nodded.  

“I like those.” Rocket slurred. He reached toward her hairline with one paw, but fell just short of touching her, appearing completely ignorant of how he’d nearly concussed himself and how he was out-in-out wasted. Mantis reached up to her forehead, ghosting a hand over her feelers.

                  “My antennae?” She asked.

“Uh-huh. When they light up, it looks like the old Groot’s spores. Quill called ‘em fireflies.” The raccoon let his paw dangle in the air, waggling his fingers as if to emphasize his point. “He used to make ‘em when it was dark, Groot did.”

“You ever use ‘em as… as night lights?” Rocket snickered.

                  Mantis had already begun to lift Rocket gingerly and carry him in the direction of the ship, but stopped in her tracks. She had never been asked such a… silly question before. Least of all by Rocket.  

The woman couldn’t help but join in his laughter as she decided inebriated Rocket must be the most adorable Rocket. “No! They are not for that, silly!”

                  His laughter turned softer, mellower. “Well they’d prob’ly make good ones, if ya tried to. You should definitely try doin’ that.”

                  “I don’t even know if I can do that.” Mantis said.

“Even more reason ta experiment! Ya think I learned how to make a bomb without makin’ mistakes? Hard ta believe, but it’s true.”

                  The ship was in sight ahead of them, but Mantis had inadvertently started to slow down. She discovered that she rather liked talking to Rocket like this: he was a tad out of it, she understood, but he was also being nice.

He was, overall, behaving less guardedly.

“Where’r we goin’ anyway?” Rocket asked, running both of his paws over his forehead.

                  “I am taking you, and myself, back to the ship. You need to rest now.” Mantis explained gently.

 He yawned in agreement, before saying, “You’re so sweet ‘n good. Makes the rest of us feel like shit.”

Mantis was surprised, before pouting. She believed that Rocket was still in a teasing mood. “I am sorry. I don’t mean to.”

“No!” He turned his head so quickly, Mantis feared he would hurt his neck. “It ain’t a bad thing. It ain’t my thing, but you make it work. That’s wh- hahaha – what makes you: Mantis”.

“An’… You’re prob’ly the best of us.” Rocket hiccupped. “Maybe better than Groot, even… now, anyway.

 “I think you are being too generous.” Mantis replied soberly. “I’m not good.”

Rocket continued to stare at her, looking utterly confused. Or was he pretending confusion? Had he gotten Mantis into such a vulnerable place to find enough fault with her and make a case to banish her from the Guardians team? Mantis knew in the back of her mind that that was an irrational thought, but she let herself be overtaken by the sudden, inexplicable feeling of paranoia and insecurity inside.

“How so?” He asked.

“I have...” Mantis thought about clamming up, but knew that the little she had shared with Rocket beforehand, thoughts and feelings and memories that were vague and half-spoken, would eat at her until she reconciled them. “I have lied to all of you. I am no better than Ego was.”

 “I… When Ego’s children were brought to him, and couldn’t make the Light, it was me who pacified them and put them to sleep before Ego killed them. I helped him kill them. I almost helped him kill all of you and make Peter a prisoner, too.”  

Mantis inhaled sharply, and willed herself to keep walking forward. She concentrated on the crunch of dewy grass beneath her feet.

 “I couldn’t… he made me feel so unsure of myself, and I had trouble understanding what was right and wrong. It always felt wrong! But Ego would tell me my feelings were not my own, that I was upset over nothing every time!” 

She was somewhat surprised that in all the sorrow and shame over deceiving her new friends, there lay parallel to it a resentment over her now-dead ‘master’.

It wasn’t a nice emotion. If she could’ve ranked the emotions she liked the best and liked the least, she would undoubtedly put resentment near the bottom of the pile.

The bug girl jolted in between steps the moment she felt something touch her cheek, warm and not unpleasantly rough. Mantis returned to reality, in time to find Rocket sitting up in her arms, now face to face with her. And unlike when she had cried over her life under Ego’s foot in front of Rocket weeks ago, he was close enough to touch. He was close enough that she could see flecks of amber intermixed with his rich, warm brown irises.

Rocket held a hand to her face – a gesture of comfort. and it was then that Mantis believed that this was the closest she had been to Rocket since they’d met.

Her quivering breaths eased inside of her chest without her realizing it.    

“I know what that’s like.” He said.

                  “You do?” Mantis questioned thickly.

Rocket nodded. “Bein’ treated like you’re nothing, by a monster like Ego? Hell yeah, I do. But that don’t make you any less good. You gotta get past it and not let it keep you from making better choices for yourself. For other people, too.”

                  “‘Sides, you didn’t tell me nothin’ I didn’t assume before, or that you hadn’t told us already. I might be a fuck up myself, but I’m still the smart one in this bunch a’ weirdos.”

Mantis felt the sudden, strange impulse to hold her friend’s hand in that moment, but did not. She had never been touched so gently in her whole life long, and was afraid of making that gentleness disappear by doing the wrong thing. Instead, she smiled tremulously. She didn’t know how to express her relief and gratitude toward Rocket.

 She hoped that he could at least see it in her eyes.

                  When they finally reached the ship, Mantis went straight to where the engine room was. She had the pathway memorized by now, and knew that that was where Rocket preferred to sleep. She did not come across either Drax or Groot on the way there, but assumed that they had already turned in for the night.

Rocket remained uncharacteristically jovial the entire time – uncharacteristically in the sense that his cheerful demeanor had not been brought upon by shooting someone. His mood grew lighter the instant he saw his cot, and before Mantis could prepare herself he was leaping across the room and landing on the rudimentary bedding. He made a show of getting comfortable, burrowing beneath blankets and articles of clothing he’d nicked from the rest of their family.

Mantis could not help but feel warm when she noticed one of her old, full-length gloves was among his steals.

Finished with the task of making his bed comfier, Rocket halted and looked over at her. “Ya wanna stay?

                  “Oh… Okay…” Mantis said as she still held her hands out in the same position as when she’d been holding Rocket in her arms. She stood there for a time, unsure, before she finally found a crate adjacent to Rocket’s crude cot and sat down.

He nodded vigorously before plopping down and shoving a pillow over his head.

Rocket’s voice came out muffled from underneath. “You’re usually in here ta help me anyhow, ya might as well.”

“Might as well…” Mantis repeated, already feeling tired from the long trek home.

Mantis waved her arms and bobbed her head leisurely, the many prayers of My Sweet Lord flowed from her mouth, all in tune and on time as she did so. It was an incredible improvement from when Mantis usually tried to sing, as she often failed to get the lyrics right no matter how hard she tried.

                  “I really want to know you… Hallelujah… I really want to go with you…” Mantis caroled loudly.

And it was hilarious.

Rocket and Mantis were the only two left on the bridge, aside from Kraglin whom was shuffling things about in the background, but neither paid him attention. Rocket was slumped on the floor across from her, cackling with one of the bottles of priceless liquor that they’d received upon making a successful mission beside him.

“This stuff ain’ even that strong!” He guffawed. The lack of alcoholic content might’ve made him feel cheated had he not been present to see Mantis, inhibitions completely gone.

He watched the normally shy girl twirl around on the bridge, arms held out to her sides as she spun around and around. In an instant, she turned to Rocket and appeared to notice him for the first time (it was the third time in counting, as she kept forgetting that he was there it seemed).

“Dance with me!” She cried suddenly. Mantis walked toward Rocket unsteadily, arms now held out in invitation. She couldn’t even make a straight line toward him without stumbling to one side, which only made Rocket laugh harder.

She still managed to be adorable even in her drunken state, even when she tumbled fifteen feet left of him and fell to the floor.

He rose from his perch and headed in her direction, leaving the bottle behind.

“You’re nuts.” He teased upon reaching her.

                  “Krishna, Krishna...” Mantis sang. She was swaying back and forth dangerously. “… Hare, Hare…”

“Tch.” Rocket brushed away the hair from her eyes and glowing face. He pulled her closer, holding her head against his shoulder to keep her steady, and started humming as though to give Mantis a break from her impromptu concert. She cuddled into his embrace, and they rocked back and forth slowly to the rhythm of the music.

Chapter Text

When Mantis awoke, it was to the barely discernable sound of shredding fabric.  

She came to slowly, convinced that she was dreaming the sound while still half-asleep. Eventually, her large eyes opened for long enough that she could coherently look around and confirm that she was, indeed, not dreaming, but still in the engine room. Mantis looked at the machinery that surrounded her and, without processing it fully, confirm what was what and that everything was where it should be.

It was still a marvel to her.

The bug-eyed woman didn’t dwell on her progress for very long, as she could still hear tearing and ripping not far from where she’d slept. Mantis looked about, trying to pinpoint where the noise was coming from.

            Rocket was still asleep beside her, curled up in his cot – and having a nightmare.

            “Ro… Rocket?” She arose from her sleeping place. Mantis slid her hands down her front to straighten out her clothes, and to try and contain the nerves that had started in her stomach.

                        Mantis ambled toward Rocket with measured steps, clutching the lapels of her tunic as they swung in time with her movements.  Once she’d reached the edge of his bunk, Mantis’s racing heart wrenched painfully as she could not only hear Rocket shredding his blankets with his sharp, sharp claws, but he was actively whimpering into his pillow. She didn’t need to feel his emotions directly to see the fear on his face once she was close enough to lean over him, or hear the pain in his snarls and cries.

Tears began to form in Mantis’s black eyes. Whatever Rocket dreamt of, it was clearly torturing him.

            Mantis looked away from the raccoon and down to her hands for a split second, feeling frustrated with herself over her innate diffidence. She knew she wasn’t brave, but to stand idly and watch someone you cared for in absolute pain? It brought back too many memories of when Mantis been small and had watched children her age and younger be murdered by their father, of when Mantis had…

            Had pacified Ego’s children to calm them…

Mantis gazed at Rocket again, hands still held out in front of her. She could help him! It would require her touching him, which was precarious. Rocket avoided her hands all the time, even when they were working in tandem and side by side. But then, Mantis had literally held him in her arms hours prior to now so that she could carry him to the ship.

She sent a prayer to the stars before reaching out to rest her hand against his upper back, hoping that he wouldn’t mind. That if Rocket should wake up, that he would understand why she had touched him. The last thing that the bug woman wanted was for her friend to hate her like he had in the beginning.

Mantis rested her hand against the raccoon’s shoulders. She registered straightaway that, instead of fur or muscle, there was what felt like a panel of some kind with strange knobs raising out of his body. Tough skin stretched over and around the foreign entity, but Mantis was sure that the object inside was made of metal.   

A torrent of questions ran through her mind, questions like what and why and how, but in the blink of an eye, Mantis’s entire being drowned in pure, intense feeling. Anger was channeled like an all-consuming flame into the Empath’s mind and body. Underneath that rage was no better, a bubbling tar pit of fear, dread, and agony. She could feel pain oozing from Rocket’s very soul as though that itself had been wounded beyond repair. And in her mind’s eye, Mantis saw something she couldn’t have possibly experienced, brief images of a life that was not her own but which belonged to Rocket.

Every image terrified her.

Mantis’s hand fell away from him and clapped against her mouth in horror. The girl fought to control her panicked gasps for a long, drawn-out moment as she regained her senses. 

            Rocket continued to groan in his sleep before her.         

The woman closed her eyes, carefully.

Mantis steadied herself before resting her hand against his temple this time, while bracing for the impact that she now knew was coming. Pushing her way through the still torrid, raw sensations, Mantis’s antennae lit up as she willed their conjoined pain to subside. She breathed in and out steadily while conjuring up memories from within that brought her comfort and peace.

Peter was spinning her around to one of those lovely songs that often played in their ship on lazy days, trying to teach her how to dance. He was smiling, but it looked nothing like Ego’s; Peter smiled happily and sadly at the same time, and Mantis could feel him mourning at her fingertips. She was balanced on Peter’s feet as a nebula of stars and ethereal purples, blues, and greens filled the Quadrant’s viewing port.

She could feel soothing, repetitive motion while Gamora’s brushed Mantis’s dark hair and felt the blue grasses of Xandar’s play park beneath her fingers. Blue like Gamora’s sister, appearing in and out of Mantis’s line of sight when she called on the newly fixed holocom. Of a burst of light scattering like a gleaming silver shower when Yondu’s, no Kraglin’s, arrow accidentally cut into the hazardous net of circuits above them. A calloused, rough hand pulled her away from the sparks, and admonished her for being thoughtless like Peter had been when he was a boy.

Drax’s favorite knife was just as silver and sparking when he sharpened it, and it gleamed in the starlight like it was made of pure fire. Perhaps it was just as hazardous to lay her head on his lap like a child’s and listen to his tales as a Destroyer while he dangled said knife above her, but she felt safer than she had ever felt before.

Everything was still dark, but it was real. As real and new as Groot offering tiny wisps of flowers she had never seen before while their feet swung from the balcony of a skyscraper that made her feel heady and silly. She asked gaily if Groot would ever be as tall, twirling the flowers in her fingers and watching all the spores float away in the breeze.

The memories brought with them echoes of her feelings in those instants. All of them filled her with unceasing delight that she soaked up and gave to Rocket, whom had already begun to settle where he lay.

                        Mantis concentrated. At the center of her mind, she could see Rocket, looking past the hub of one of their engines. He was looking at her and laughing quietly and genuinely, at something she’d done or something she said, and he seemed fond, proud… of her.

 Lingering shrouds of fear and alarm faded gradually from her senses in the wake of her jumbled reminiscing; but Mantis dutifully fed her happiness into her friend’s psyche without begrudging it.

            She retracted her hand only when she was sure that Rocket was once again resting peacefully.

            The metal bars got closer and closer every day.

Steel was always biting into his skin, whether in a cage or when he was being squeezed between sterile gloves. It was the one sensation he knew best, always at his heels, backing him into a corner, and still closing in on him while he struggled. But it kept him grounded. The feel of it, the scent of it barely distinguishable from the red fluid they drummed out of him daily with their poking and pinching.

                        Metal, keeping him in place, sticking out of his arms that had been ripped off and slapped back on again. Metal, giving him posture, broadening his shoulders and changing his hand-eye coordination instantaneously. His screams bounced off metal surfaces, cleaned of guts and gore when it was polished every morning so that he could look at his reflection and be confronted with a face that didn’t look right, didn’t look like what he felt it should.

            Metal, comfortably cool in his hands, that let him destroy the only world he’d known with the pull of a trigger.

Rocket thought he’d been pissed when he’d had to endure one of the most obnoxious hangovers he’d ever had in his life, but no, the anger and irritation had carried over from that night into the morning, and onward.  

No one had even bothered to apologize. Not Kraglin, not Gamora, or Drax; and certainly not Quill.

Was he the only one that actually gave a damn about their team?

            Star-Dork was supposed to be their leader, but aside from defensively pushing his own agenda to tour Korova’s watering holes and thanking Mantis for being just as much of a pushover as always, he hadn’t cared much how the rest of them felt.

            Rocket wasn’t all that thoughtful, he could admit that, but an idiot would hold some reservations over pushing an Empath into cramped spaces filled with loads of drunken slobs.

 He could tell that Gamora had had similar thoughts, not solely when Mantis had begun to get unusually distracted and clumsy throughout the night when she didn’t have a drop of alcohol in her system. What did that amount to in the end? Absolutely nothing.

Rocket conceded that maybe Thanos’s former daughter didn’t have Peter by the balls as much as he’d assumed, not when she was this tolerant of the Terran’s arrogance and stupidity.  

            Then again, what did his own complacency amount to in the end?

                        He’d been quietly fuming the entire trip on that infamous planet, but Rocket had milled around while Mantis was strung along and put into situations that were obviously uncomfortable for her.

Rocket shifted in his seat, the captain’s chair, and scratched at his neck. The others were avoiding him, even Groot… although that didn’t make as much of a difference from the norm anymore.

He couldn’t stop the uncomfortable prickling at his spine at the memory of Mantis struggling in silence as she walked into Korova’s nightclub. She had barely kept up with them by the end of the night, caught up in the bewildering the constant swirl of people that they passed. It was just as easy to pretend that the bug lady’s disorientation came from being susceptible to hundreds of new sights and sounds. Doubtless, Ego had never taken her to anywhere or to see anything if he could’ve helped it. Maybe, for the rest of the crew it hadn’t been an issue in the first place, but the more that he thought about it, the more Rocket wondered if he’d played willfully ignorant that night.

Willfully, wretchedly ignorant, until he couldn’t afford to be.

  “What’s wrong with that one?”

The group had decided to hole up not too far from the main bar, and Rocket was, unfortunately, the Guardian nearest two of most unseemly, slovenly scum-sucking alcoholics he’d seen in a long time.

                        They’d been difficult to disregard in the first place, being as loud as they were – and without Drax to literally yell into their ears over this nightclub’s deafening “music” – Rocket found it difficult not to glare at them every five minutes. Even when Mantis had given up in trying to pretend that she was having a good time and excused herself from their table.

            The Empath had left the club at a crawl and, on her way toward the exit, had accidentally bumped into one of the slobber-ers – the one with a snout for a nose.

            “What’s wrong with that one?” Pig-face bellyaches, while they all watch Mantis leave after profusely apologizing for her clumsiness.

“Probably ain’t too bright.” His companion (Rocket barely remembers him apart from his pock-marked face and oily hair) could barely hold onto his drink but his gait was proud, arrogant – infuriating, if you asked Rocket – “Ha! Did you see her walkin’ funny when she came in? Took too many on the street corner, I’d say!”

The bastard had then burst into laughter as if what he’d said was a riot. He had no idea his words could’ve well started a riot had Rocket managed to not just pin him to the ground in five seconds flat, but legitimately tear his fucking face off like he’d sworn to do.

_

The very thought of those two morons made Rocket’s claws crick and his lips furl back in a snarl. He could feel the charge of aggression in already tensing muscles as though the scum

            Rocket’s scowl worsened as he remembered that it had been him and him alone that had defended one of his teammates. And that he had been punished for it, like a fucking infant.

And he was still being punished; they were still avoiding him, even days later. Even Groot. Even Mantis.

He can almost picture himself; his already ugly maw, screwed up and scrunched while he convulses and covers his eyes like a child, trying to hide the burning tears that soak through his fur.

Rocket buried further into the sheets, gripping them for dear life. The sheets on Mantis’s bed were nearly torn up from the nights he’d spent there in the past, and while he spared a thought to how he was ruining her possessions, there was little that the mechanic could do about it. Not now, when he could already feel the beginnings of a headache pounding in his skull. He’d brought it upon himself after thrashing so violently in his dizzying nightmares.

He still caught glimpses of those memories even awake. Those dreams had to be so – visceral – no matter how often he had them. Rocket couldn’t even remember if what he was frightened of had happened the way he saw it in his mind, but whatever his brain fabricated would never fail to scare him wide awake.

In the aftershock, that still makes his skin crawl and ripple against the implants that hadn’t healed correctly, he can feel something soft against his hand. The ring in his ears dulled gradually, until Mantis’s voice drove away the remaining flurry of images. She sounded anguished beyond measure but her hand was holding his hand, to keep him anchored in case the dreams returned.

“Let go.” He said finally, hoarsely. “You shouldn’ have ta… it’s… you…”

Mantis clutched his hand tighter. “Please. I want to help.”

            “I share with you all the time.”

She sobbed, his pain coursing through her like blood through veins. “Please share this with me.”  

Rocket’s entire frame shook; rage and sorrow were still clouding his mind. “I can’t give you nothin’ good. Don’ you get that?”

He made a feeble attempt to pull his hand away from hers, but her grip was strong while his strength is meager. Maybe he isn’t even trying.

            “I’m right here! You don’t have to be alone.” Mantis exclaimed thickly. She moved closer to him, until he could feel her breath on the hands still covering his eyes. “I would not ever abandon you, Rocket, even if… if… even if you bit my head off!”

Rocket doesn’t know what to do. His ears flattened tightly against his skull and despite himself, he sobbed into the mattress. It sounded like a scream and a whine rattling from his rattling from his tired throat. The raccoon could only imagine the noise he made when he’d been deeply unconscious.

This wasn’t how it was supposed to be; he’s always been certain that he doesn’t deserve his friends’ concern or compassion. And now he was making her sick because of all the scars that lay beneath his surface that would never completely heal.  

  And yet, Mantis hadn’t manipulated his pain this entire time; her hand was only intertwined with his. She wanted to share this with him, this of all things.

“It ain’t fair.” Rocket moaned in between sobs. “It’s not… fair.”

            He wasn’t sure what he was talking about then, if he was addressing his own screwed up personality or this thing that he and Mantis had fallen into that didn’t have a name yet.    

            She continued to lay side by side with him as words failed them both. Rocket didn’t expect her to say anything more, although the persistent but gentle squeeze of her hand at regular intervals (those in which his muffled cries grew loudest and more panicked) let him know that she hadn’t fallen asleep again.

                        “wild horses, couldn’t drag me away…

wild horses… we’ll ride them someday…”

Rocket’s brow furrowed in confusion when he slowly turned to look at her fully. He listened to her in puzzled silence for a little while, keeping himself from wincing as she butchered the lyrics the more she went on.

Eventually, he couldn’t help but let out a strained laugh while rubbing his tired eyes. “What’re ya doin’?”

“I am singing.” Mantis smiled at him serenely. She stroked her fingers against his knuckles lightly, at the ready to withdraw if he wanted her to now that things had calmed down. “You love this song, don’t you?” 

Rocket regarded Mantis’s resting feelers and bare face, framed by her messy dark hair and even darker, absolutely adoring eyes.  

            “Yeah. I do.”  Rocket said.

“Hand me that screwdriver, would ya?” Rocket concentrated on the grooves that lined the Quadrant’s backboard thrusters.

            He had no idea what was keeping their ship from propelling like it should, but assumed that it had something to do with the asteroid field they had plummeted through a day ago. Rocket ran a paw over the trailing indents and his hands came back glittery and slightly greenish-yellow in between the dark grease.

The mechanic grimaced, rubbing his gloved together as he felt the familiar weight of a screwdriver placed daintily in his other hand. He hopped up into the satellite-shaped opening and continued to feel around. It was dumb luck that had allowed them to survive not only a rush of asteroids, but an atmospheric cloud of Sulphur – of all things!

            Rocket tapped at the crown-shaped center where laser-guided matter usually exited their ship. He had a hunch that asteroid debris was stuck inside, snug with a coating of highly heated Sulphur to keep it in place. He’d been afraid that whatever mucked up the Quadrant’s gear was not going to be easily removed, and of course he’d been right.

                        He sighed and went back the way he came, squinting in the light of day before his eyes fell on Mantis’s lone form. The bug woman was standing stiffly, in the same position as she had been when he’d called her over to help him. Her hands twisted together while she kept her head bowed and refused to meet his gaze, like a servant waiting for their master to bark another order at them.

            It shouldn’t have troubled him all that much, but Rocket had already been irritated when their ship nearly dropped out of space that ‘morning’.  He didn’t have time for this chick to act all (confusingly, hurtfully) subdued around him like he was the second coming of her former manipulator.  

                        Rocket sniffed. “You just gonna stand there all day or what?”

Their routine of fixing whatever little thing on the ship was never this tense and quiet, not since the beginning of Mantis’s technical training. He was used to her talking constantly, asking all kinds of random questions from ‘what does this button do?’ to ‘do you know what jello is made of?’ and to her telling him about whatever she had discovered that day.

Mantis looked up, startled. “Oh! I…”

            She continued to wring her hands nervously against her tunic, perhaps due to nervousness after being caught for spacing out.

“If you ain’t here to help, then you should just go back and spend time with the rest a’ them.” Rocket huffed. His mood continued to sour as he jumped off of the thruster and to where his toolbox lay. “I’m sure you’d be better off havin’ fun with ‘em than being here with me.”  

And the look in her eyes said it all.

            Mantis visibly swallowed before she managed to make eye contact with him for the first time (in a while).  

“I’m sorry.” She said timidly, like Rocket hadn’t said anything at all. He looked into her eyes from across the tarp beneath their feet and felt a wave of nausea over what he saw in them.

Pity.

Mantis was looking at him with pity. Mantis felt sorry for him.  

            “Ya know what?” Rocket threw his tools to the wayside. Why did it still have to cut so deeply, to be pitied?

                        “Ya don’t gotta help me. I can do this by myself. Later.” He turned away from her and clapped his hands of the oil and diesel like she was no longer there.

Taking a breath, Rocket couldn’t help but glance toward Mantis impulsively. He should have felt some satisfaction, in himself for not letting her have it or in seeing her cowed at his dismissive tone.

Damn it all though, the sight of Mantis shrinking back as if he’d gone and snapped his jaws at her only made him feel guilty and ashamed.

            The hurt and distress in her eyes only worsened that ugly feeling, but Rocket didn’t wait to hear what the girl had to say before he turned his back on her and walked out of the room.

Chapter Text

Moments of self-awareness weren’t rare for him, but Rocket had learned quickly to push those aside as soon as they came. He had gotten it down to a science, in fact, up until he had inadvertently found himself joining a ragtag bunch of a-holes to save the galaxy. Twice. Rocket’s methods for coping with his own joke of an existence had just about flown out the proverbial window once he started caring about people who weren’t him. Or rather, when the people he cared about were dying while he couldn’t do a damn thing about it. 

Although, as the week dragged on Rocket could put a third reason for questioning his worth on that list – that being when everyone avoided him at all costs. He may have been getting progressively more drained with the passage of time, but for the raccoon that crushing fatigue came with the acknowledgement that his team was walking on eggshells around him. And it was well and truly not helping in the slightest – Quill’s mild tone of voice, Drax’s silent stares, Gamora’s careful questioning, Groot’s ignorance – it far surpassed his motivation to bear the same grudge against them that he had before.

And Mantis…

            She would look at him from afar at least once a day, with those big doe eyes so full of misery and pity… Her broken appearance had begun to haunt his mind throughout the day, circling back while he was in the middle of things to cause a flurry of emotions to bombard his concentration.  Rocket could swear that Mantis had made appearances even in his nightmares, whether it was hearing her voice just outside of his cage or seeing her green blood splattering the medical cot he was being carried to.

Nightmares that were receding, but were nonetheless costing him what little sleep he managed to get on a regular basis.  

Everything was like it had been before he was roped into teaching Mantis all that he knew, and he ought to be happy about it, about the alone time he’d craved beforehand, but her absence didn’t make him feel any less worthless. It didn’t dismiss the fact that the engine room felt ten times emptier.

“What?”

Rocket nearly tripped over his own tail while rearing back in astonishment.

“Why?!”    

He had already felt as awkward as Quill looked whenever he tried to play off being a moron by just being in her quarters, shuffling aimlessly in front of a sitting Mantis. And then, as she was involuntarily wont to do, Mantis had taken making Rocket feel out of his element up to eleven with just a simple question.

His near fall might’ve made for a comical sight, but Mantis did not laugh at his reaction. Instead, she remained poised on her bed, as patient as always. “Drax used to kiss his wife all the time… But it is something friends do too! Peter told me so.” 

Fucking Quill. Of course, their dumbass leader would pull some shit like that, not even giving a thought to (one of the) most impressionable members of their team. The man was notorious for being way too affection, handing out hugs and kisses and cuddles like they weren’t all grown adults and it wasn’t embarrassing as shit to have him lumber over and wrap his trunks for arms around you. Drax was nearly the same, as the second lunkhead in their merry band. But he could crush you if you spurned his newly formed habit of offering hugs, so Rocket gave him more rhetorical leeway.

            How would it even work, anyway? Mantis had the facial structure of a humie and Rocket… didn’t. He’d spied Peter and Gamora kiss a handful of times (he was grateful that he’d never seen anything else) and he got the gist of it, but that didn’t make the idea of kissing someone any more appealing. He was all teeth, and if they did this he’d have to turn his head to an uncomfortable angle just to reach her mouth and –

            Mantis watched him in silence, as though she could see the gears inside his brain grinding and beginning to smoke out of his ears. The longer he stood there in front of her, the more the bug woman grew concerned for his health.

“We don’t have to try, if you don’t want to.” Her shoulders moved up and down self-consciously before the reticence could drag on. “I was only curious.”

“Well now wait a minute!” Rocket blurted, flinging his arms forward. He pulled back just as quickly, mortified at the sight of Mantis’s startled reaction.  

“Er, I… if you really wanna do that – this, then,” Rocket swallowed. “I ain’t gonna stop ya.” 

Mantis recovered quickly at his words, giving him a grateful smile. She edged forward carefully until he could feel her shallow breathes against his fur, and Rocket discovered that psyching himself up for what they were about to do did little good the closer she got.

Her lips touched Rocket’s nose and the effect was immediate. They were both rendered still with the action that, while relatively quick, brought them so close together that Rocket could see each individual lash about her dark, dark eyes, reflecting pinpoints of light like two miniature galaxies. He blinked at her, paralyzed, until she leaned away after a few moments. 

Mantis head ducked shyly as she looked away, lips quirked into a tiny, relishing smile.

 “That’s not how ya do it.” Rocket heard his own voice distantly.

“No?” Mantis asked, looking back with noticeable trepidation. “I didn’t do it correctly?”

“It was a good attempt, but nah.” Rocket swallowed again. He literally had no idea what he was doing. “I’ll show ya how it’s done.”          

“Oh!” Mantis bounced in her seat, hands clapping together in her lap with glee. “Okay!”

Rocket nodded, then backtracked. “Uh… close your eyes this time, kay?”

He watched Mantis nod docilely and shut her eyes before he moved to sit on her bedside. Rocket adjusted himself, shoving rumpled covers aside hurriedly before reaching out to take Mantis by the arms and guide her to face him. Rocket’s body jittered – either with silent laughter because the woman kept her eyes closed all through his rearranging, or due to the nervous energy inside that had no way of getting out otherwise.  

The mechanic brought either hand up to her cheeks and carefully drew her face forward. Rocket cocked his head to one side, swallowing for a third time as he calculated the right way to approach her. He would have to angle his head one way and hers the other, but in all honesty, it wasn’t as complicated as he’d first (dreaded) believed it would be.

Mantis’s breath caught in her throat once they’d connected, and Rocket’s ears swiveled forward to make up for his inability to ask if she was okay with this. He strained to hear any noise of protest, but couldn’t hear anything of the sort, no matter how much effort he put into it. It was already difficult, trying to pay attention to every sensation equally and remember midway to breathe through his nose while kissing her all the while. Yet when she very timidly returned the pressure, the clatter of Rocket’s dysfunctional thoughts stuttered to a halt. He lost track of his worries as well as the time, until the warmth of her blushing face disappeared and was replaced by a cool relief of air that forced Rocket to reopen his eyes. Even so, he couldn’t entirely shake off the heady feeling that occupied his mind like a thick fog in the Prusival’la Jungles.

Strange, how something so minor as her reciprocation could turn his brain off, just like that, when nothing else could.

Mantis held a hand to her mouth, eyes luminous and feelers glowing faintly in the dim light around them. It was like they’d switched places, as it took the woman sometime before she reacted with more than stupefied silence.  

And then she began giggling.

“What’s so funny?” Rocket asked with the hint of a sneer. He’d been trying his damndest to reign in his inborn defensiveness, but old habits die hard.

“Your fur was ticklish!” Mantis laughed sweetly as she touched her fingertips to her nose to illustrate. “I can still almost feel it!”

“Well, you were the one who wanted ta do it!” Rocket harrumphed, crossing his arms over his chest petulantly. The previous… whatever that was that had taken hold of him had mostly faded, although the sensations that had come of Mantis being so close and warm were still pestering his imagination.  

“Rocket?”

The raccoon felt her gentle hand against his cheek like a shock of electricity to his nerves, as it trailed down to rest below his muzzle before Mantis tilted his head toward her once more.

“I liked it very much.” Mantis said, looking at him with that sincere adoration that got beneath his skin. “Thank you for trying it with me.”

Rocket held her gaze until he couldn’t take the warmth his body was burning up with and had to face away from her, absently scratching his neck. The heat didn’t disappear as easily as he wished it would, even without looking at his bug lady.    

After a beat, he looked over at Mantis. “You, uh… You wanna try it again?”

Rocket dragged his hands over his face. “What the hell am I doin’?”

            He had assembled, disassembled, and reassembled all his weapons on many occasions, as it had become a tick of sorts to stop overthinking. Yet now, as he sat all alone and cooped up in his hovel of a worker’s room for the seventh day in a row, Rocket found himself sick at the sight of blaster in his hands. The mounting feeling that his actions had become counterproductive was hard to ignore, even if it left him restless.

            The raccoon let his weapon drop to the floor, calling it a win when the item didn’t break or shoot cannon fire at the abrupt mistreatment. Rocket exited the workshop and made way for the Quadrant’s main cabin, having made up his mind that he needed to get an apology for his moodiness over and done with ASAP.

Should be simple enough. Rocket convinced himself. You just gotta say a quick ‘sorry’ and they’ll take what they can get. Usually do, the chumps.

He snickered until he was walking down the stairs leading into the main cabin, stumbling a little before he reached the doorway. A part of him dreaded seeing the rest of his crew, but another part of him dreaded seeing Mantis there more than any of the others. He’d been an absolute jerk to her for so long, and Rocket had the sinking feeling that just muttering ‘sorry’ to her wouldn’t be enough to appease anyone.

Least of all, Rocket himself.

He walked into the cabin, already slightly agitated by his own hesitation, and noticed that there were only two occupying the room. His gaze traveled to the figures sitting near the wall on an in-built bench and was met with the sight of Mantis dozing against Kraglin’s shoulder. He could see her feelers dipping low to her brows, forming an impromptu sleeping mask over her eyes – eyes with dark shadows beneath them to indicate how truly tired she was.

At Mantis’s side, the ex-ravager was twirling what had been Yondu’s arrow between his long, skinny fingers, scrutinizing every inch of the weapon like there were some sort of secret instruction scrolled upon it that he’d been missing. Kraglin didn’t appear to be paying any attention to the woman on his arm, and Rocket might’ve noticed that if his sleep-addled brain had given it more than ten seconds of real thought.  

Rocket’s fur stood on end, rising as if he were in a caught in a storm of static electricity while his jaws clenched and teeth gnashed together so hard that it hurt. In that moment, it didn’t look to Rocket like two of his friends (who were each other’s friends as well) were just hanging around like always. They were too close; and while Rocket didn’t generally want Mantis in his personal space often enough, he had to wonder when Kraglin had become overly comfortable with the bug woman sleeping on him – in a public space, no less! 

“What’re you two doin’?” He asked, hissing through gritted canines.

Kraglin, who had never been as vigilant as one might expect, fumbled with the arrow comically for several seconds before it all but leapt out of his hands and rolled beneath the in-built bench. He glanced at Rocket, goggle-eyed, before leaning over to retrieve his weapon, which prompted Mantis to slide against him until her head nearly fell into his lap.

Mantis yawned, eyes fluttering open as her consciousness returned gradually amid Kraglin sitting upright again. When her eyes focused, she singled Rocket out in the gloom of the cabin, and offered him a spacey smile.

“Hello, Rocket.”

“Hey there, Rocky.” Kraglin greeted, nodding to the mechanic with the arrow now gripped tightly in his fist, looking guilty – like a kid that had been caught toying with an electrical socket. For all the lanky man knew, being electrocuted with his fingers in an outlet would be a mercy compared with Rocket’s irrational fit of rage.  

Rocket’s lips arched upward, teeth flashing in the dim.

“What are you two doing?” He repeated, quietly.

Mantis’s expression changed into one of somnolent confusion.

 “Oh! I was asking Kraglin about his arrow.” Mantis turned to Kraglin, resting her chin on his shoulder to give him an apologetic look from beneath her lashes. “And I am afraid I fell asleep during your explanation. I am so sorry.”

Rocket huffed angrily. “Why’d you go ta him to learn more? I could’a told ya everything about it. I built the damn thing, after all!”

“I did not think you would want to tell me.” Mantis replied somberly. Her neutral expression wilted to one of sorrow, which added a layer of heavy guilt onto Rocket’s blistering anger. Still, he could feel his eye twitch in seeing Kraglin extend a hand to pat Mantis’s shoulder comfortingly.

“How would you know that?” Rocket’s voice rose. “You never wanna be around me to ask what I want!”

Mantis’s eyes widened. She stared at him, stunned, as she moved to sit up (and got off Kraglin). She was now wide awake, gaping at Rocket like he’d just declared himself the Emperor of Spartax.

“Er, Rocket?” Kraglin cut in. “It wasn’t a big thing. Miss Mantis was just askin’ how whistlin’ made the arrow move.”

“No one’s talkin’ to you, Pencil Neck!” Rocket snapped back, not even bothering to look at Kraglin as his fists clenched. The raccoon kept his eyes trained on Mantis, whose face had twisted into what had to be her version of an irritated look. It was as meek (and charming) as any other expression she made, but could barely pass for irritation despite her efforts.

“I do not understand why you are yelling.” An indent formed between her delicate brows. “Kraglin has done nothing wrong, and that was a very mean thing to say to him.”  

            Rocket waved her words away (how the hell would she know it was mean, anyhow?).

“I don’t care if it’s mean! I could do worse than that if I had the mind to – and had a good ol’ fashioned grenade to do it with –!”

Mantis gasped, jumping in her seat in disbelief. “You would not kill our friend!”

“Our friend?” Rocket had reached near hysterics. In the back of his mind, he registered his own claws digging into his palms and drawing blood. “Or just yours? You ‘n him are already friendly enough with each other, without the rest of us gettin’ in the way!”

Mantis’s nerve faltered. “What?”

“What’s going on?” 

Gamora strode down the last set of the steps from the deck passageway to stop and stare at the three of them. She eyed Rocket and Mantis, trapped in a deadlock even while Mantis shrank back into the wall and droplets of blood from Rocket’s paws hit the deck beside him.

Kraglin’s eyes flicked back and forth between Mantis and Rocket in the meanwhile, Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. “Uhhhh…”

Rocket growled, eyes narrowed to slits. “Nothin’. I was just gonna ask Mantis to make herself useful. I could use another pair a’ hands in the engine room.”

Gamora frowned. Everyone in the central cabin looked less than cooperative from her viewpoint – Rocket least of all when he flexed his reddened claws with a snarl on his lips. The green warrior apart from them thought back to the past week, when tensions between their most trigger-happy teammate and the ever-sweet insect woman had been so thick she’d felt like she needed a double-edged sword to cut through it.

“Is that a good idea?” Gamora asked, hiding her concern with a frank tone and bland look at the pair.

Rocket steamed, but Mantis stood up after a pause to straighten her jumpsuit and stand attentively. “It is alright, I will go. I want to be helpful.” 

            Mantis took baby-steps forward until Rocket turned tail without another word and paced up the stairs that Gamora had just descended. He didn’t bother to step around Gamora and butted his shoulder into her thigh as he passed her.

Gamora watched them exit, frown deepening when they were out of sight.

“Don’t worry, Miss Gamora.” Kraglin interrupted her quiet reflection as he walked toward where she stood. “Ca – Yondu and Peter used ta have spats all the time, but they worked it out by talkin’… or gettin’ plum drunk together. They weren’t no pair o’ lovers, but it was the same in principle.” 

The man rubbed the back of his neck, slightly indignant. “Dunno if I been called worse than ‘Pencil Neck’ for interferin’ though.” 

Beside him, Gamora’s brow curled up in confusion. “Lovers?”

Rocket was jogging down the hallway, looking back more often than he should’ve, to be sure that Mantis was still behind him (every 30 seconds). The raccoon glared every time, as she was shuffling behind him like she was on her way to an execution chamber, head bowed and hands wringing anxiously. The image reminded Rocket of what she’d been like in the beginning – that is, when they had all begun to live on the Quadrant and she’s kept her distance from him. It’d been welcome then, had made him feel apathetic at best and feel insecurely intimidating at worst, but now…

Was his company that dreadful, that even the thought of working with him again could make the insect-like woman so unhappy? Sure, he was naturally stingy and had a temper, and he’d just got done releasing all his pent-up frustration yelling at her and their teammate for some inexplicable reason. And when he’d been seeking the crew out so that he could make amends for his behavior toward them, and more specifically toward Mantis.

Rocket’s brisk pace slowed. Why the hell had he been shouting at her, again?

They were at the door sooner than he’d anticipated, but he was barely aware of the fact apart from subconsciously remembering where and what he was walking around. Rocket’s ears had fallen back against his head by the time they had stepped inside, by the time the remorse and shame over his behavior swirled inside of him like troubling storm. 

“Are you… a-are the nightmares getting w-worse?”

            Rocket spun around to face her, already on the cusp of asking her what she was talking about when her words sunk in. Rocket’s eyes widened slowly, as the realization dawned on him that Mantis knew.

“Is that why you’re so a-angry?”

She knew that he was plagued by night terrors, somehow – something he’d kept to himself since he’d found the first civilization he could remember that wasn’t Half-World. The only other being in the galaxy that knew about his distaste for having to sleep was Groot, and that had been an inevitable.

“How do you know about those?” Rocket murmured, more dumbfounded than angry.

Mantis’s head rose, until he had a full view of the anxious despair within her enormous eyes. She visibly quailed beneath his intense stare, teeth sinking into her lower lip upon realizing that she’d just shared a secret with the one person she’d tried to keep it from.

“I know that your dreams are… horrible and it’s hard for you to sleep.” Mantis said, closing her eyes as though the words pained her. “I have felt them s-since… I have felt them since you became unconscious after the night on Korova. I was here in this room with you when you started struggling in your sleep.”

“You have such pain.” Mantis’s voice caught in her throat. “When I felt it, I wanted so much to help you. I wanted to take it all away. So… s-so I touched you and made you sleep peacefully again.”   

“You manipulated me to get me to sleep.” Rocket summed. “Like what you did for Ego.”

Mantis’s mouth worked, ashamed. “I am so sorry that I didn’t tell you! Your nightmares continued the next night, and the night after, and I thought I was hel-helping! But you said to make myself useful, so I-I thought that I was not doing enough and that was why you wanted me to help.”

“Mantis.”

“Is that what you want now? Do you want me to put you to sleep?” The sound of her distress went straight to his heart, even as he took measured steps to stand in front of her.

“I have never told anyone.” Mantis swore. “Not Drax, not Gamora, or Kraglin or Peter.”

“Mantis.” Rocket held his hands out toward her, stopping himself from flinch as she stared at him with feverish, bewildered eyes.

“I can do better. I can try harder.” Mantis continued. “Whatever you want.”

“Stop talkin’, please.” Rocket replied, insisting with his paws that she come closer and help him. “An’ take my hands.”

The woman reached to touch him, but stopped short at his next words.  

“Don’t put me to sleep, though.” Rocket said, just before she grasped his hands. Mantis gawked at him without a pretense of politeness. He couldn’t blame her for how delirious she was, but he remained resolute regardless. “Just listen.”

Rocket braced himself. “I… I wanna say that I’m…”

You need to do this. You can’t be a coward anymore.  Rocket thought, feeling his own helplessness escalate until it was a near tangible weight, like lead in his bones.

He felt her hands curl around his own very gingerly. Too much time’s been lost already.

He deflated. “I’m sorry.”

The mechanic spared a glance at her tired face – noting her bright, enrapt eyes and slightly parted mouth. Rocket had no idea how to channel his remorse to her directly through their hands, but he hoped that this was enough.

“You… You’re great, Mantis. Just you; Not your powers or what you can do for the team.” Rocket said. “I should’ve told ya that a long time ago, it would’ve saved us a hell of a lotta trouble.”

“I appreciate havin’ you around. And even if, y’know, you weren’t helpin’ me, I’d… well, I’d still want you here with me. With us.” 

“And, I shouldn’t a yelled at you back there.” This, he said firmly. His brown eyes bore into hers. “You didn’ do anything wrong. Doesn’ matter if I was tired or angry or (scared) whatever, I shouldn’ yell at you. It’s all my fault that I was bein’ such a dick.”

“But…” Mantis’s voice was a steady whisper, and tears were gathering in the corner of her eyes. “Your dreams… I should not have invaded your privacy, and I’m sorry!”

“I understand why you did it. I don’ wanna cause you more pain on top of everything else.” Rocket answered honestly. He really, truly didn’t. “I don’t need your help with those. I’ve gotten through ‘em on my own – my entire sentient life.” 

He watched her bottom lip tremble. Rocket canted his head in her direction, hoping to catch her wary eyes. “Okay?”

            Mantis sniffled, and although her watery visage didn’t clear up completely, the woman smiled. “Okay.”

“Good.” Rocket breathed out in a show of sheer relief. To say he’d been completely uncomfortable with opening up to someone, even to someone he legitimately gave a shit about, would be a vast understatement.

They remained face to face in a much more companionable silence before Rocket remembered that their hands were still together. He noticed that her skin wasn’t soft as he’d expected it to be, although not as rough in texture of his own digits. There wasn’t a blemish or scar to be seen. It made logical sense to Rocket, as Ego would’ve surely kept Mantis from anything that could’ve caused damage to her main assets in terms of servitude.

He wondered at her green hue illuminating her cheeks however, amid spacing out. Her large, black orbs remained fixed on how his claws just missed pricking the fragile skin of her palms with a bizarre intensity that snapped him out of it. 

“Uh,” Rocket cleared his throat, feeling uncomfortably overheated beneath his fur. “Can I have my hands back now?”

 “Oh! Yes, of course.” Mantis withdrew her hands promptly, leaving Rocket with a curiously empty feeling as she did so.

“Dude! Stop making Mantis cry!”

Rocket and Mantis both whipped around to the doorway of the engine room, in time to see the rest of the guardians pushing and shoving to get to the front. Even Groot was there peeping through the gaps made by jostling elbows. Peter was only the most visible, as well as the loudest and the most grating, exasperated voice.

“Shut up, Quill.” Rocket groaned half-heartedly. The raccoon suddenly felt the bulk of his exhaustion from the past week seeping into his muscles to make them ache.

“Do not worry!” Mantis spoke up for him. “My tears are from happiness!”

“Oh, thank God.” The joyful tenor in her voice was palpable enough that Peter sagged with relief upon hearing her words.

“Are you certain you’re alright, Mantis?” Gamora asked, head popping out from behind the doorway.

“Has the cur bitten Mantis?” Drax intoned from behind them.

            Rocket scoffed at the muffled accusation, yet it was Gamora whom turned to look at the alien behind her. “No, Drax. And you can put the knives away.”

“I am Groot!” Groot yelped in protest, likely having been poked by one of Drax’s weapons by accident.

Peter eyeballed them while he casually rested his arms against the band of bodies behind him like they were a plush throne. “Okay, great! But, like, just to double-check, are you guys sure that you’re okay, potential teeth-related injuries notwithstanding?”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” Rocket rolled his eyes. “We’re all alright, can we jus’ get back to annoying the shit outta each other like usual?”

“Not after you have been insufferable to all of us for the past week.” Gamora said.

“More like weeks – As in multiple – Since Korova.” Peter added, passive-aggressively.

“An apology to the rest a’ us… might be nice.” Kraglin mumbled somewhere on Peter’s other side.

Despite them all being clumped together; Rocket could feel every set of eyes from his teammates as he stood beneath a metaphorical spotlight. Even Mantis, whom was still in kneeling next to him, blinked at him beguilingly.

            Rocket muffled another groan between his hands. “Ugh. Fine, I apologize.”

“Aw.” Peter cooed. “And?” 

            “And? And what, Quill? You want me to kiss yer ass on top a’ humiliating myself here?” Rocket snapped at the man. There was no venom in his manner, and Peter’s familiar smile reached his eyes to show for it.

Gamora said. “That will do.”

“I think he should still be punished.” Came Drax’s monotonous voice again.

“Ah,” Peter waved a hand, already backing up to leave the room that smelled like oil and copper. “He’s already tired as hell, Drax. We’ll cut him some slack for now, until he looks less roadkill.”

            “Road-kill?” Gamora asked down the hallway.

“Yeah, on Terra they got these things called roads for ships that roll over the ground when you wanna get somewhere.” Kraglin replied. “Pete said that sometimes animals and stuff would get caught under ‘em and be flattened on the road.”

“Disgusting.”

“Okay, that’s not something to talk about before dinner, guys.” Peter reprimanded.

            “I am Groot.” Groot mocked.

“So what if I brought it up? I didn’t go into detail about it!”

Drax was the only one left standing there before long, icy blue eyes looking between Rocket and Mantis in contemplation (or whatever the equivalent was for Drax). The look made Rocket’s fur bristle, although he wasn’t sure that it was out of annoyance or embarrassment.

“Hmm...”

FIN.