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Sure, they don’t really do that whole bounty hunting thing anymore, but it’s nice once in awhile to hack into the Nova Corps most wanted and scan through to see if anyone’s a quick grab nearby, see how much they’re gonna get paid. Peter, if he notices, always complains that they get paid in friendship or love or some of that shit he likes to spew, because he’s that kind of person, but it’s still fun to go zipping around in one of the smaller ships off the Milano fucking Deux, or whatever Peter calls it now, and just go do things.
And yeah, some of those things are letting Groot throw around a baddy and hold out grubby little hands to Nova, looking for extra cash.
And that’s just what Rocket was doing now, sat on the corner of a marble walkway. They’re hanging out at Knowhere right now, which works out, because also hanging out at Knowhere is some thefting scum who Nova wants 30 grand for. A pretty pound of credits, at least. Could get them some nice parts, some nice guns for Rocket. That’s all he really cares about, playing on his datapad, not even watching as the dude screams for help as Groot advances on him.
Man, she can be terrifying sometimes. It’s good to not be on the other side of those vines, wrapping and creeping ever so slowly around the three headed… whatever the fuck this alien was. Rocket knew guns, not races. He swung his legs a little, setting the datapad down in his lap and leaning back on an arm, watching Groot take her time in her weird wrapping. Despite everyone’s underestimation of her constantly, she was very particular about her ways. There was a method to her… Grootness, and just because she was a big, lumbering piece of flowery bark didn’t mean anything. And even now, lost in his own thought, he didn’t even notice her dragging the alien up, holding the dangling vine sack out as if to show it off, grinning as much as the wood allowed.
“Groot. I am Groot. I am Groot.”
“Yeah, you did a good job. C’mon, let’s go collect and have ourselves a nice little shoppin’ adventure.”
“Groot.”
“Yes ma’am,” Rocket salutes, hopping off the marble walkway and collapsing the datapad, tucking it into his pocket, “we’ll get you something too. Promise.”
Peter’s yelling at them the whole time for bringing a criminal on board, but it’s totally cool when he wants to bring weird aliens on board to bang. Totally fucking rude and biased, or whatever that shit was called. He didn’t care, really. Groot keeps the alien in place with vines and offers Peter a thumbs up, who softens just slightly, because well, it’s Groot. That’s what she does. She looks cute and non threatening and then nobody bothers with her. They get out of a lot of things because of that, when it was just the two of them slumming it up, and Rocket’s honestly… pretty thankful for it.
They needed to stop at Xandar anyway, despite Peter’s fussing and moaning, so it works out in the end. Nova gives them their payment, they get to prosecute the scummy little thief, and then… shopping.
Parts and weapons aren’t big on Xandar, so Rocket knows they’ll have to go back to Knowhere for that, but he promised Groot something nice. Not that he’s quite sure she’ll find anything here, but… you know, thing surprise him all the time. Rocket tries not to let them surprise him, but you know. It happens.
So when Groot wanders over to some knick-knack shop with shinies, he looks only slightly displeased. Everything in there must cost a bajillion credits, and he’s so not into spending more than he has too. They need necessities, too! She can barely fit through the door, and the shopkeeper looks close to tears when she goes around the tall, square glass cases. Little does he know, Groot’s a fucking master at stealth.
Or Rocket was totally not coherent all those times they stealthed shit. Either or. He’ll go with that she’s good at it, though. Boost her ego. Not that she needs it, though. Rocket just kind of lingers by the door, hoping Groot’ll get bored of it eventually, but within a couple of minutes she comes up to him, holding out tiny little glass… creatures? Animals?
“What the fuck are those?”
“I am Groot. I am Groot, I am.”
“The fuck is a dolphin? You said that pink one’s a raccoon?”
“Groot! I am Groot. I am Groot, I am Groot.”
“You just described a fake animal. Nothin’ that evil could be swimmin’ in oceans on Terran!”
“Groot! I am Groot. I am Groot, Groot.”
“Ok, ok! Yondu. Got it. You can buy them, to remember him or something. You’re such a baby sometimes,” Rocket grumbles, but it’s probably the most endearing conversation he’s had in his life. Buying stupid animal trinkets to put on the Milano fucking Deux’s dashboard, all because Yondu used to do it on the Ravager’s ship. She’s real fucking cute, and it’s kind of annoying sometimes. Nobody has any right to be that cute, like… ever. Ever, in all of space and time and shit.
Still. He forks over 10 grand in credits, tries not to wince that his nice pool of weapon money has lessened, and hands her the little paper bag the shopkeeper has wrapped each animal in delicate lace paper and placed inside. She holds the bag close to her chest, all giddy and shit, and Rocket just follows her out of the shop. At least they didn’t break anything; that was always a good plus when it came to shopping.
They’re on Milano fucking Deux first, so Groot takes her time in setting up the little trinkets. It takes her a couple of times, adjusting and adjusting and adjusting until she’s found the perfect spot. The pink abomination that’s supposed to be a raccoon faces where Rocket sits, and he kind of hates that he has to stare this fucking thing down all the time, and the dolphin faces Peter, all cheery in it’s evil form. Hideous. Groot gestures eagerly to the things, looking at Rocket expectantly.
“Uh. Yes. Beautiful. You did a good job.”
“Groot.”
“Yeah, they’re alright lookin’. Cute, maybe.”
“I am Groot, I am. Groot.”
“What? No, nothin’s as cute as you are,” Rocket grumbles, arms crossed over his chest as he looks away, feeling dumb she got him to admit it. Especially when anyone could walk in! The whole point of him was a tough little ankle biter, not a mushy little pet, or something like that. But when she looks at him like that, looks so proud and happy of herself… yeah, she’s beautiful. Rocket hates it.
When the rest of them pile in, Drax being the last, slightly rowdy and tipsy, they take back off to Knowhere. That’s home, anyways. As close as they’ll all get like this, ruffians with heroism in their blood but nobody cares about that anymore. Nobody looks at them like saviors, and honestly, that’s just fine with Rocket. Gets his damn body nearly blown to bits by a space Jesus gem, saves the whole god damn galaxy from being taken over… nobody’ll remember his name.
But he’ll remember hers, always, and he’ll be damned if anyone forgets about her.
They’re settled into the lower bits of the Milano fucking Deux. Sleeping down here is… comforting. Warm, tight. Smells like grease and oil. Rocket’s fallen asleep slumped over machinery more than once down here and when he wakes himself up, he’s always moved elsewhere. She always looks out for him… and all he does is give Groot grief. Not all the time, but he’s not the easiest… person? to be around. He knows this; they all know this. But Groot stays by him, and maybe that’s why he’s a little shit. He doesn’t need them. He needs her.
So he doesn’t bother tinkering with machinery, doesn’t try to put together some rogue fucking rocket launcher or grenades or something. Instead, Groot holds her arms out, and Rocket climbs into them, curling himself in the embrace. She’s not very comfortable, never has been, but he does her best. A flower has grown in her chest cavity, or whatever you want to call it, right where her heart would be, and where he’d lay his head. It dawns on him that she didn’t have it a couple of weeks ago, and did she just grow it for him? Was it a normal thing that grew here, and he never noticed it before?
The flower is soft and smells sweet, with white petals speckled with baby pinks. He would have seen this before if it was normal, and he feels so incredibly… something. Rocket can’t even put into words the foggy feeling his mind has found itself in, and Groot doesn’t even seem to notice. She’s too busy entwining her arms together to keep him in place in some make-shift bed, keep Rocket cozy, and Rocket…
Exhales, inhales, exhales. Leans up, bumps his nose against what he considers her cheek, and Groot makes a low, rumbling noise in her throat.
“I am Groot.”
“I love you too.”
He doesn’t need the others. He doesn’t need the ship, the fancy works, the credits. Rocket just needs her.