Archive of Our Own ^beta

Peter reclined his piloting chair backward and set his hands behind his head as he kicked his feet above the dash. The ship was set on its straight path forward after their mission achieved in securing the inauguration of some hiring planet's king. He turned his head slightly as he heard small footsteps approaching.

Rocket climbed up into his chair, flipping the switch for the massage function he'd added. "What're the stats, Quill?"

He shrugged, closing his eyes. "Easy fifty mil from that last mission. Cruising for a few, for now at least. No exact destination."

"We're gonna have to make a fuel stop soon," The raccoon stated blankly. That was definitely out of the ordinary for him to pay attention to that sort of thing.

Peter opened one eye and looked over at him suspiciously, gauging his reaction for a few moments before speaking, "Yeah, I've got it handled."

"What's that mean? You gonna just let us run out? I'm settin' course."

He sat forward quickly. "Dude. We've got over a hundred clicks to go before we need fuel. Chill."

"Come on, Xandar's just a few clicks away. Besides, Groot's bored."

He gave Rocket an incredulous look, his left eyebrow raising dubiously. "We literally just left! I just sat down, Groot's probably fine. What the hell's your problem?"

"Nothin', jeez. Figured you'd wanna stop and hit on a girl and get drunk or something."

He gave Rocket another scrutinizing side eye before dropping it. "Yeah, I'm good. We can get fuel when we actually need it."

"Too late. Already set the course. C'mon, Xandarians love us."

"Rocket, there's no reason to stop, and I told you I don't want to." He leaned forward and rerouted the ship. "Back off, wouldja?"

He immediately slammed his paw down, resetting the route. "Well, maybe I got business to do."

"Ah, there we go." Peter crossed his legs and propped his chin on his hand, leaning on the armrest. "What're your plans? Tell me I can't be blamed."

"None of your business."

He was obviously taken aback, his eyes widening marginally before narrowing again. "If it's gonna affect me, sure it's my business."

"It's not gonna affect you," Rocket’s ears twitched as he mumbled, "If you shut up."

"If you've got somethin' to say, go ahead and spit it out. This is a team, ya know."

Rocket growled. "Goddammit--I heard about this stupid ancient relic or whatever on Xandar. Top-notch security, lots of Novas. Worth a whole lotta units."

Peter's gaze shifted to the windshield. "...and?"

"And Groot and I are gonna take it."

He blinked twice, slowly, to comprehend and let the information fully sink in. "You-- are you serious? Is there a purpose?"

"'Course. Money, obviously. What'd you expect?"

He frowned fractionally, his eyebrows lowering. "So you're stealing something to sell it for money, and I'm gonna have to carry it in my ship. Pretty sure that's called being involved in a crime."

"Since when do you give two shits?"

"Since I'm gonna be one of the undeserving people thrown back in jail!"

"Only if you get us caught, dumbass."

He made a face at him. "I'm the dumb one for not wanting to steal some precious relic? We literally just got paid, too."

"But we can get paid more, Quill."

"You're an idiot. I should've recorded this to give to the cops when they catch up with your idiocy."

"If, Quill. If."

"Try 'when', it's more accurate. You screw up my record every time." He made a weak shooing motion with his left hand as he lay back after checking that the ship was on the right course again.

Rocket was already setting it back for Xandar. "This won't affect your record if you just shut up about it."

Peter glanced at the dash quickly before groaning and switching it back. "You need to stop. Go to the hull with the rest of the team. We're not stopping at Xandar."

"Quill, come on! Damn it, fine--I'll ask the team who wants to stop. Then maybe you'll shut your mouth." Rocket jumped off his chair, stomping down the stairs.

"Yeah, and maybe you can tell them the reason, too," Peter shouted after his retreating form. He rolled his eyes and kicked his feet back up before settling down again.

Less than five minutes later, Rocket returned with the infant tree on his shoulder. "They're fine with it."

"Bullshit." Peter swung to his feet. "You suck, man. Don't touch anything." He went to the stairs and descended to the hull to speak to them himself.

Of course, Rocket immediately rerouted as soon as Peter was out of his sight. Drax was in his usual chair, obsessively cleaning his weapons. Gamora was shaking her leg and reading, clearly still annoyed that Rocket interrupted her.

Peter leaned against the entranceway and crossed his arms before clearing his throat. Nobody looked up, so he took a step forward. "Rocket ask if you guys wanted to stop?"

Gamora was the only one who responded. "Mm-Hmm."

"Okay, and your verdict was...?" He walked over nearer her chair.

"It wouldn't hurt to stop. We were running low on food, anyway. And fuel."

"But we're not--" he stopped when Gamora looked up at him, giving him a flat look. "It's... fine, what about you, Drax?"

"I would like to return to the bar we enjoyed the last time. The rodent agreed with me."

He frowned more evidently. "Did he happen to mention his other plans?"

"I assumed there were other motives." Gamora shut her book and set it down on the tape deck.

"Yeah, and knowing Rocket, we probably all can figure out what they are. And you still agreed?"

"He's done things like this before on stops. There haven't been any major incidents," Drax added on.

Peter paused again, glancing to Gamora, who was expressionless as usual. "So you're all willing to take the consequences if he screws up?"

"We take the consequences when you screw up." Drax didn't look up as he spoke.

Peter gave him a deadpanned look. "I'm not the one stealing some ancient artifact."

"...I am certain I have seen you do that before."

"Not this time."

Gamora sighed. "Rocket isn't someone you can argue with. Just let him do what he wants and try not to get thrown in jail with him."

He opened his mouth to argue before halting. "He's gonna use my ship as a getaway car."

Gamora stared at the floor as she threw her coat on. "Nothing that hasn't happened before."

Peter began walking backward towards the door as he attempted to remain nonchalant in his obvious defeat. "Yeah. Whatever. Nothing new. 'S old news anyway, you know, yeah." With that, he headed back up to the cockpit.

Rocket had taken the pilot's chair, absently scratching his ear as he gazed at the stars. "See? Told ya."

Giving up on petty arguing, Peter sat down heavily in his chair. "Nobody argued. Do whatever you want, just don't get caught."

"I know, I know." He waved his paw dismissively.

Peter assumed his earlier position before Rocket had entered in the first place and tried to ignore the nerves tangling in his stomach.

Almost twenty minutes later, the alert came up on the display that they were approaching Xandar.

When the ship landed in one of the busier ports, Peter turned his head to watch Rocket scamper off. He leaned forward and saw him entering the crowds through the windshield. There were the usual crowds of the planet, a rainbow of color with the occasional dull grey and blue of a Nova officer. They were everywhere.

He sat on edge, jaw clenched, until he realized it'd take longer than expected. He sat back again and turned on his music to kill time before Rocket was climbing back into the seat beside him. He could hear the others walking out, their footsteps audible on the metal floor.

With a few minutes’ passing, Peter found himself tempted by a group of young Aaskavarian women visible through the windshield. He bit his lip before shaking his head at himself and exiting the ship. He stood at the base of the entrance ramp and lifted his chin as a greeting to the girls. A few of the girls waved, and the rest of them broke into hysterical giggles. One or two of them flashed their deadly teeth at him.

Thinking he'd be turning around as soon as the others returned, he left the door open to the ship and strolled casually over to their group. The giggling intensified, the girls eventually pushing one of the smaller ones to the front of the group.

He smiled down at her before scanning the others. "What're you ladies up to?"

"Oh, we're..." They giggled again. "We're just looking around for something to do as a group. And what're you up to, mister...?"

"Oh, you know,” he said, missing the inquiry for his name. He waved a casual hand. "Coupla friends ran inside for... errands. Got some time to kill."

"Ooh...how much time?"

He shrugged a shoulder distantly. "However long they like."

The girls giggled yet again. One of them seemed distracted by something, pointing out to the others toward the Nova Headquarters. He struck up a shallow conversation with the girl most immediate, but soon she picked up on what her friend was saying and turned to look as well. Surely enough, he saw Rocket, running on all fours as he was pursued by a female Nova. None of the other officers seemed to notice, going about their business and occasionally sparing a glance.

The crowd was obviously disrupted, a small rivet running through it in Rocket's retreat and the officer's pursuit. Peter's eyes had widened, and he began taking a few steps backwards, trying for nonchalance. Rocket had begun scampering directly toward him, cursing madly. The officer seemed to be in a panic, desperate to catch the creature.

He attempted to catch Rocket's eye as he bolted towards him, but it was a dead straightaway for the ship ramp. Peter quickened his pace, leaving the girls behind, and moved towards the entrance. He hoped the others had managed to make it on while he'd been distracted because if this was as dramatic as it looked, Rocket could need the quick getaway. The Nova impulsively pounced as Rocket was halfway onto the ramp, clawing at his tail and back paws in a frantic effort to stop him.

Peter's hands had tangled in his hair in his watching Rocket stumble. Needing a distraction, he turned and snagged the pistol off the loiterer to his left and fired it straight in the air before dropping it in place, where it clattered against the ground. The officer turned instinctively at the noise of the blast. She seemed to notice Peter's presence for the first time, staring at him with wide eyes. Rocket, seizing his opportunity to escape, began squirming out of her grip. In the process, the small statue he'd stuffed into his jumpsuit flew out and crashed into the ramp. The broken halves slid down, settling by the concrete with a strange sense of finality.

"Shit." The surrounding crowd's eyes were all drawn to the shattered remnants, and there was an awkward lapse into a hesitant silence as the gazes then turned to the officer in question. Peter glanced sideways, unsure of whether or not to claim his ship or just act as one of the bystanders. The officer's mouth dropped in absolute horror, only growing more apparent as they climbed off of Rocket. Very few times had Peter seen someone who looked so scared. Their entire body was trembling already, and he was sure they were close to tears under their helmet.

He risked a smile at the officer, steering clear of anything remotely flirtatious. "Ah, hey. Sorry 'bout this. We'll just..." He started to maneuver around to head up the ramp. She desperately looked at him as if begging for help. A few older officers were running over to the scene, only one of whom Peter recognized as Officer Dey.

"What is going on here--Quill?"

"Nope, that's the other guy." He took a few hurried steps before he heard the warning call by the officer. He met Rocket's eye from his hiding in the hull, and he made some facial gesture to indicate his needing help. Responding to the officers, he slowly pivoted on his heel with a pokerface.

Rocket only shook his head, seeming to focus his attention on the younger officer. Peter heard a different voice, a deeper one, starting to berate her. It quickly erupted into a screaming match, the two Novas going at each other.

Dey shouted over the noise, trying to get Peter's attention. "I don't know what happened here, but you got lucky! If a real officer saw you, you'd be liable!"

The officers seemed more concerned with the ongoing argument than anything else.

Peter began to slowly ascend the ramp again, turning casually enough to attempt to escape the issue. Once at the top of the ramp, he muttered, turning his head sideways so Rocket could hear, "Safe enough to take off?"

"Too many people around. And the others are still doing god knows what."

"They're still out there?" He ran a hand over his face in exasperation. "The hell is the plan here, Rocket?"

"...Looks like she's in more trouble than us."

"Do we do something?" He found that the air seemed to have smoothed over enough for him to turn around and move comfortably about the hull. "She's being bludgeoned for your faults."

"And that's my problem how? You wanna try and shut 'em up, go ahead."

Peter sent a glare over his shoulder as he glanced at the circling crowd below. "Contact the others if you can."

"On it." Rocket began to tap his paws away at his communicator. Meanwhile, outside, the older officer still had not let up in his speech.

"You seem to lack an understanding of how protocols work, Madera. You are not competent enough to do anything more than alerting other officers to an emergency. Did you understand that?"

"Sir--"

"No, you didn't. And now Nova Prime is going to blame both of us for this. I didn't want to do this..." The officer inhaled beneath his helmet. "Hand in your blaster."

"But, dad--"

"Blaster. Now."

Peter stood watching from his place at the top of the ramp as the officer reluctantly took the blaster from her belt. His eyebrows knit as she took off her helmet and he could see how young she was. His inner lack of patience for oppression by supposed "superiors" urged him to stand up for the person, but he stood his ground. It wasn't his place, and he might already be in some kind of trouble.

The helmet collapsed into cloth in her hands, and she shoved it into her back pocket in humiliation as her father yanked the blaster from her.

As sympathetic he felt towards her situation, Peter felt an ounce of guilty relief that it allowed Rocket to get away. The older officer walked away, and Peter, lost in his thoughts, had his eyes on the younger one, who stood staring after their father in obvious distress. They turned back as they felt his gaze on them. He could see a flash of rage within their eyes, as if they wanted to storm onto the ship and choke Rocket to death. Instead, however, they only crouched down and inspected the shattered remains of the stolen artifact.

Peter scuffed a shoe on the metal floor. "It's obvious that you did that," he said, turning and speaking to Rocket. "Like it's not like she doesn't know it was you."

She slowly collected the two largest fragments, stuffing them into her belt. It looked like she was blushing red, but it was honestly hard for Peter to tell based on her bluish skin. Her dark brown eyes darted up to Peter as she seemingly only now noticed his presence.

Rocket laughed harshly. "Doesn't look like she's got much of a position to arrest us anyway. The others are finishing up."

Peter nodded aloofly, maintaining uncomfortable eye contact with the officer.

She mumbled, almost with a robotic edge to her voice, "I apologize. For the disturbance."

Peter didn't answer for a moment and just stood there watching. "Are you... are you alright?" He nearly winced at the awkward statement as he descended the ramp a few steps.

She seemed genuinely confused at his inquiry. "...What?"

"That..." he gestured towards the older officer's retreating form, cutting through the clearing crowd. "That was quite a show."

She glanced down at her shoes. "I don't know how much you heard..." She kept her eyes on the ground, expecting Peter to make some sort of joke at her expense.

"Not words so much as just general shouting. I'm sorry about...," he blurted and waved his hands at the fragments on the ground. "I know it wasn't me, but."

"It was me. I'm aware. He was going to put me on probation soon anyway..." Her fingers brushed the collapsed helmet in her pocket.

Peter had descended the rest of the way until he was standing just above her on the ramp. "This... this wasn't your fault. Was it expensive?"

"It was recovered from the wreck of Korath's ship by my father. A record of his achievement." She eventually established eye contact again, trying to find a clue in his face as to why he was still talking with her.

He nodded, pursing his lips. "Are you going to get in further trouble because you couldn't catch the... the thief?"

"I'll probably get publicly yelled at by Nova Prime...but you saw the worst of it."

He shrugged and shoved a hand in a pocket. "Well, what I saw didn't seem totally bad."

"Oh, that was just the official part. My father makes these things personal...I doubt he'll be talking to me for some time. Whatever he does later, it's deserved..."

He nodded in response, watching some of the dust from the shattered relic drift away in the wind. There was a brief lapse in the conversation before he spoke. "Is it going to be bad?"

She gave a small sigh. "Nothing I haven't endured already. Why do you ask?"

He looked out over the crowd before answering, hoping to see his friends weaving back among the people. "Honestly, it's because I could have stopped this from happening, and I didn't."

"Sir—that isn't your responsibility."

He scanned her face and noted the exhaustion with a wash of anxiety over it. "What can I do to help before my friends get back? If... if I can."

Her face went violet again, chocolate brown eyes widening even further. "...To help?" She seemed to ponder his offer for a moment, glancing at the nearby group of fellow officers. "Do you have time for a drink? Now's the usual time the Millennians get off patrols..."

If he was taken aback by the statement, his face didn't show any sign, but his mind raced as to her meaning. "Sure. Yeah, no problem. Do we just..." he gestured with both hands over the small pile of debris.

"Right--um..." She awkwardly bet down over the debris, collecting it into a small pouch of her belt. "Nova Prime might want that."

He offered her a slight smile, extending his right hand out in indication of her leading the way. She took a careful few quick steps forward before slowing down to allow him to catch up. "May I ask why your pet wanted this?"

"My--?" His brows furrowed in a forming question before lifting as his head was thrown back in a laugh. "The guy who ran into the ship? He's my friend, not my... my pet." Rocket would be obscenely offended to hear that later.

She uncomfortably laughed with him, brushing a strand of tight black curls out of her eyes. "My mistake...your friend."

He smirked, unable to contain himself. "What would have happened if he were caught?"

"To be entirely honest…probably only a fine of a few hundred units."

"Why not the full penalty?"

"If it hadn't been destroyed, not much damage would've been done...it also isn't a weapon or anything of the sort. 'Fines of anything above five hundred are reserved for crimes that endanger other citizens'." It sounded like she was reciting something from a book.

He looked over at her repeatedly as they made their way through the busy plaza. "Right, okay, but what if he managed to get away? Would you follow?"

She didn't hesitate in her answer. "Of course I would. It's my job."

He dropped his next question as it was dangerously close to making her question why Rocket hadn't already been taken in. "Course, yeah."

"...May I ask another question? I probably already should have." He made a noncommittal noise of agreement. "I don't think I heard your name in all of that." She vaguely gestured toward the ship's direction.

He turned to follow her indication before smiling more genuinely. "Call me Star-Lord. I think I heard 'Madera'? Or is Officer fine?"

"I-I prefer just 'Mel'." She glanced down at the stone walkway, before knitting her eyebrows. "...Star-Lord?"

"Okay, Mel." He nodded, half to himself. "And that's the name, yeah."

She bit down on the inside of her cheek, trying to conceal a smile. "If I'd known it was Star-Lord, I would've been more careful around your ship."

His eyes narrowed, but his smile remained. "Can't tell if you're mocking me or if you've heard the name before."

"Of course I have..." She returned the smile. "You saved Xandar." She had a deep desire to ask about his heritage, but she decided to wait for that opportunity.

His mouth opened in protest as he cocked his head and shrugged. "After half destroying the city, maybe."

"It would've been much worse without your help."

They stopped outside a bar, and Peter noticed the neon sign had the same triple circle design she was wearing on her chest. Peter pulled open the door before following her in, still curious about her intentions. The bar was generally crowded with people stopping in and out from the busy port. He stayed behind her as she led the way to a small booth beside the counter. He spotted a group of officers from the corner of his eye, two of whom were staring directly at Mel. She placed an order for something Peter had never heard of, and nudged him to get his attention.

He crossed his arms on the table and leaned heavily on them. "’Kay, so we're here. What's this about?"

"What do you mean by that?" She shifted her jaw, looking down at the stone table.

He shrugged. "I know it might be unexpected that I don't grab drinks too often with pretty people, you know, bein' me and all, but." He flashed a stupid grin.

She took several seconds to process what he'd said. "Pretty people?"

"Yep." He thanked a waitress who placed their two drinks in front of them. She tentatively began to drink hers, trying to hide the violet tint of her cheeks as she waited for Peter to break the silence.

He jerked his head sideways to the officers who were staring before and were now leaning over the table towards each other, one speaking at a rapid pace. "You know those guys?"

"Oh… Yes..." She held her hand over her face, hoping they wouldn't notice her. "Just ignore them..."

He mimicked her hand position to hide his face as well, hoping to make her smile again. "Why? They were staring earlier."

"They don't..." She gave a sad sort of smile. "They don't exactly like me."

He frowned somewhat comically. "But you're completely pleasurable, why do they get a say?"

Mel almost flashed a smile at his compliment. However, she responded by mumbling into her hand, quiet to the point where he could barely hear her. "It's complicated..." One of the officers was starting to approach.

"Ooh, bad cop's coming." He didn't try for subtlety as he grinned at the man.

The officer gave him an odd sort of smile as he leaned on the table. It didn't give Peter the feeling of a warm smile, more the feeling of an animal baring its teeth. "Madera, who's this?" Peter's form had taken on a more rigid fixture, and his eyes, waiting for the answer, flicked to their face.

Mel cleared their throat, staring at their drink in order to avoid eye contact. "Star-Lord. He’s—

he's a friend." The other Nova practically bent over with laughter.

Peter's lips pursed as he sat back and gave a sharp, humorless grin. "Taken aback a bit?"

"Not at all--" He slowly regained his composure. "'Star-Lord', huh? Seems like just the sorta guy you'd hook up with."

Peter glanced at Mel. "You usually hook up with rugged, handsome, and charming guardians of the galaxy?"

She almost snorted, remembering exactly where that nickname came from. The Nova, on the other hand, seemed to find it even more humorous. "Never seen you go for anyone, to be honest. Makes sense that your first one's a Ravager." His bright pink eyes darted to the patch on Peter's shoulder.

If there was any humor still in Quill's eyes, it dissipated immediately. "What're you tryin' to say, buddy?"

"Well, you know. You'd have to have tragically low standards to settle for Madera."

He knit his eyebrows together in mock confusion. "Sure, why not try to find an actual kind person in this damn world, even one who's lucky enough to look like that when there are things like you running around?"

Mel had practically frozen by now, bright violet and hiding their face with their arm.

The Nova only glared at Peter in annoyance. "You don't know what she is. Just you wait." He gave a sarcastic smirk, stomping back over to his table.

Changing his position and loosening his crossed arms, Peter relaxed back in his seat. "I think that's what the French call a douche."

Mel allowed herself to smirk, vaguely understanding Peter's meaning. "I am...so sorry. I didn't mean for him to--"

"Hey." He leaned forward with a hand up. "No way you're apologizing for his behavior. He's the one who wrongly dissed you."

"Well..." She let herself smile softly. Nobody'd ever defended her before, not to a Nova. "Thank you, then. He'll probably be back soon...we don't have to stay here."

He took a sip of his drink and stared at its contents. "Damn, that's fizzy. And whatever you want's cool."

The other two officers were both watching the pair now. "I don't want to aggravate them..."

"Hey, if you wanna ditch them, then so do I."

One of the officers began shouting unfamiliar words at them, prompting Mel to immediately rise from her seat and rush outside. Peter followed, tossing some units down on the table before moving to the door. He paused just inside the entryway and looked over at the aggressors. His feet almost drove him over to them to start an argument before he saw Mel's imploring face and changed his mind. Mel was leaning against the alleyway nearby, terrified of what questions Peter was about to ask her.

He nodded to some unheard beat as he caught up to her. "That was something. Just tell them to knock it off. 'S not like they just had a few sips of a drink with the Star-Lord."

She surrendered a sad smile, scuffing her boots on the stones. "If I could tell them, I would...it isn't that simple." He didn't respond, waiting for her to continue. His eyes offered sympathy, but he didn't verbalize it, not wanting to sound pitying. Mel mumbled, mostly to herself, "You'd agree with them if you knew."

He fell against the wall beside her. "I'll know if you think it's important for me to know."

"I—you—," She inhaled slowly, suddenly reminiscent of her father. "Other officers here don't exactly admire my...bloodline."

His expression immediately, yet not entirely noticeably, closed up. "Assholes."

"Almost everyone here knows who my mother is. She isn't something I'm proud of."

He made an agonized face. "Maybe you should be. Show them up and all."

"No, I..." Her words suddenly dropped in volume. "She was a follower of Ronan." She nearly flinched, bracing herself for some sort of outrage.

He only watched her demeanor, his not altering in the slightest. "Did you know her well?"

She began choking her words out. "No, I...she didn't want to ever meet me. She left me with my father on Terra when I was a baby."

His face visibly changed into one of muted surprise. "Wait— really? I mean, that's shitty parenting 101."

She almost flashed a smile. Her eyes traveled around his face for a few moments, surveying every detail before she made her decision. "...I've heard stories about your parentage. Are they true?"

He gave a sharp, harsh laugh. "Depends on what these stories said."

Mel swallowed hard, preparing for whatever answer she received. "You--you're Terran? Half-Terran, I mean..." Mel dared to look into Peter's eyes, brown locking with green.

He gave her a brief half-smile. "Sure, yeah. My mom was Terran. Dad not so much."

He noticed a smile spreading across her entire face. Not a sad or reluctant one, a true genuine smile. "I never thought it was true... I never thought I'd meet somebody else like me..."

He shrugged. "I'm sure there're a couple of us floatin' around up here somewhere."

For the first time, she let out a soft laugh. Her next words came rather slowly. "Do you still keep contact with your mother?"

His mouth twisted sourly. "Can't. She died when I was a kid."

Mel immediately regretted her question, her own features twisting into a mixture of guilt and heartbreak. "I'm sorry..." She began frantically searching for a way to clear the awkward cloud she thought had fallen.

He nodded, his mouth forming a small pout. "It's okay. It was a long time ago. Your mom still around?"

She gave a dejected sigh. "Unfortunately..."

"What 'bout your father?"

"You probably saw him earlier...I still live with him."

"Yeah, yeah, I figured. He seemed like an ass, too, according to what you've said."

"He is a good man...a good soldier for Xandar."

"Yeah." He crossed his arms and stared across the alley at the opposite wall. "'S not like he left you to live here alone, y'know. Get on by yourself an' all."

"He has most certainly been here for me..." She absently rubbed the fabric of the helmet in her pocket.

"Yeah. So good for you on that front." He stuffed a hand in a pocket. "If he's like some commanding officer, where do those guys get off on trying to bother you? Don't they answer to him?"

"Yes, but...he doesn't have much respect for me either. Not anymore."

"Sounds like there was some dramatic change." He smiled encouragingly.

"You have no way of knowing this, but..." She sucked in a deep breath. "I've had several 'high-profile' failures."

"Then you've had shitty guidance."

"...Shitty guidance? How do you think that?"

"Because." He strolled a few paces before turning back around to face her. "You call them failures, but they're really failures on the side that you weren't taught the right procedures well, right?"

Her blush creeped into her cheeks once more, her eyes darting around at everywhere besides Peter. "I am aware of the procedures...my failure lies in when I make careless mistakes."

"Maybe you weren't taught well enough how to avoid them." He took a few short steps forward, his face mature in seriousness.

"Well...you're kinder than my father."

"That's not much of a compliment, considering."

"Let me rephrase—you're kinder than every officer I've worked with so far. You're certainly kinder than the men in the bar..."

"Eh, well." He shrugged dismissively. "You have a lot of friends on the force?"

Her eyes immediately snapped downward. "I, um...don't have many friends. I had one, back when I first began."

He solemnly nodded, not pushing it further. "Consider me a plus one, then."

She gave another small smile. "Thank you...I'm very grateful to consider Star-Lord as a friend."

"Yeah, me too." Peter mirrored her expression. A small beeping noise came from his belt, and they both glanced down at it. "That's my call."

"Well...w-wait." She began digging around in her own belt for something. She pulled out a small device, something Peter recognized as an emergency communicator. "If you ever need to contact me for anything..."

"Oh hey. Cool. Thanks." He took it with a smirk. "I'll be sure to do that."

She nervously returned the smirk, glancing in the direction of her apartment. "Well...I'll see you again, yes?"

"Next time Rocket decides thievery's the way to go, yeah. Count on it."

She gave a giggle, covering her mouth with her hands. He reached for her hand and squeezed it once. "I'll see you around. Trust that I will." With that he gave a subtle wink and turned, waving over his shoulder once he was on his way back to the ship.

Aboard the Milano, things seemed mostly normal. Rocket was picking apart a part of the ship, Drax was digging around for something to eat, and Groot was dancing to the music playing from the tape deck. Rocket's ears twitched, his eyes darting to Peter. "Quill, you sure took your time."

"Yeah, yeah. Sorry 'bout the holdup."

Gamora suddenly spoke from behind him. "What were you doing?"

He startled sideways to see her better. "Shit— uh, talking to the officer who was gonna arrest the idiot who broke the thing he came to steal."

"You talked him out of it?" Gamora shifted her weight, watching Rocket carry Groot up into the cockpit.

"There was nothing to get him out of. Wouldn't have been arrested anyway. She said she doesn't arrest pets!" He called after Rocket, who stopped and turned incredulously.

"Call me a pet one more time, Quill, I dare ya."

"Weren't my words, you trash panda."

"What the hell does that mean?"

"Nothin' you'd want to know," he called back. He shook his head with a slight smile and raised his eyebrows when he saw Gamora eyeing his emergency communicator.

She gave her head a slight nod in his direction. "Where did you get that?"

He covered it with a protective hand as he attempted not to hesitate in fabricating an answer. "Just in case there's a job that comes up, y'know. Some offer."

"Did the Nova give it to you?"

Peter simply nodded, watching her carefully before shrugging his jacket off.

"That is...surprising. Most of them mistrust us."

He lifted a shoulder, tossing his jacket on a hook. "Yeah, I dunno. It flowed kinda naturally. She was different."

Gamora began leaning on the table. "Different, how?"

"I don't think she was talking to me with intentions of staying political."

"What do you mean by that?" She crouched down, lifting Groot, who had run back down to the hull with them, and helping him onto the table.

"Y'know." He helplessly made some whimsical hand gesture. "Doesn't matter. She was cute, small, and all, and those jackasses think they know better than her."

She titled her head inquisitively, but didn't question him further.

"These arrogant pricks on her squad were harassing her. Tried to publicly humiliate her and all. I hate people like that."

"A majority of Nova officers appear to be rather cruel. Although, I never thought one would befriend somebody like you."

"Somebody like me?" Peter turned and crossed his arms as he examined Gamora somewhat inquisitively.

"You know what they think of you. A rugged criminal who refuses to change."

"Apparently they think of me as the hero who saved their home." He grinned roguishly.

"This Nova told you so?" Her voice raised at the end, forming a question mark.

He gave her a affirmative yet somewhat arrogant look.

Gamora only shook her head in response, rolling her eyes playfully.

He winked in passing her and moved towards the cockpit, where he called up to Rocket. "Hey, douche! We stoppin' at another place for you to try and fail to steal somethin' you shouldn't be?"

"Jeez, Quill—wouldja let that go? It's been, like, twenty minutes. Nah, we're just cruisin'."

He smiled sardonically and moved up to take his piloting seat.

"And, Quill? That trip wasn't totally useless. We got food, didn't we?"

His hand moved to the emergency communicator again. "Yeah, I guess so."

Rocket concerned himself with the bag of pellets next to his seat, shoving a handful into his cup of water before swallowing them.

Putting his feet up on the dash, Peter assumed the position he had when he first was bothered by Rocket's switching routes. He took out his music player and gazed at the tape. He remembered which tape he'd inserted, the newer one his mother gave him before her death. He closed his eyes to the bass of Fleetwood Mac. "What'd you think was gonna happen when you broke the relic?"

"Honestly? I was expectin' another full-on arrest. Not whatever the hell that was."

"Yeah, I... it was weird. She said she wouldn't arrest you anyway, but I dunno what the deal was."

"Probably didn't wanna arrest a Guardian of the Galaxy, eh?"

"Yeah, she thought my face was too pretty to be behind bars."

"Bullshit, Quill." His snout shook as he snickered.

"Nah, it's the only thing keepin' you from payin' a fine, man."

"Since when do Novas charge fines for that kinda thing? Musta gotten soft."

"Instead of servin' time? That's what I said."

"Suckers probably got bigger things to worry about."

Peter turned his head to the side and raised an eyebrow slightly in question. "Like what?"

Rocket shrugged, repeating the cycle of soaking and eating. "Kree purists, Thanos, you name it."

Peter hummed quietly in response, turning back to gaze at the stars. "All of us."

He gave a slight nod of agreement. "Yep, you're right there."

Peter smiled to himself. "How'd you grab that relic in the first place? Made 'em chase you and all?"

"They didn't have a lotta protection. Just two officers in the whole room."

"So you weren't even subtle about it? You just grabbed it and ran?" Peter shifted to see Rocket better.

"Yeah. Still took that dope half a minute to see it."

"That's BS. Maybe it wouldn't have sold for as much as you were hoping anyway."

"Eh, guess we'll never know." The raccoon shrugged.

"Lemme know if anything exciting happens." Peter closed his eyes and reclined backward, his conversation in the bar repeating behind his eyelids. He remembered the dickish Nova officers, his memory comparing them to the ones he'd encountered in prison. They seemed to have a nice supply of officers willing to hurt people for fun. The unbalanced scale between knowing your father yet not having a good relationship with him versus the other side of not knowing him at all left him pondering which side floated in the air above the other as the better option. His thoughts drifted to how truly terrified Mel had been of her own father. Even as a child, he'd never seen anyone that intimidated by their own family.

Earth seemed so terribly distant at that point as he remembered his own few Terran years. Not knowing your father at all must be the easier option than having to know him with the understanding that he might just hate you. His mother had always told him he was special, like his father. The idea of someone in a similar situation disliking the alien parent had never occurred to him before.

His own father had to be impressive. Sure, his dad'd be interrogated a bit, and it might be a tad sore for a while in asking why he abandoned his son and family, but... he had to have some good reason, according to the way Peter's mom used to reverently talk about him so. He pondered over Nova Prime's words about his father the last time they'd spoken. She'd used the word "ancient" as if Peter's father was some old civilization even the Nova didn't have record of.