Chapter Text
The rain tapped a comforting rhythm on the Benatar’s hull as Gamora entered the bedroom she shared with Peter.
The first time she’d gone in there after she came back to life and helped defeat Thanos, she stood before the bed, taking in the sight of the place as though she hadn’t been there in years. That’s how long it felt to her, at least. She still remembers Peter’s hand gently resting on her waist as he stood by her side back then, nearly holding his breath as he watched her.
Gamora’s eyes had swept across the small, but cozy room. There was the collection of Terran keepsakes she had discovered in pawn shops that were set in a neat row top of the dresser. She saw her collection of weapons hanging on their wall hooks across the room, on the opposite side of the dresser. And lastly, Gamora’s gaze had settled on her bed. Their bed. It wasn’t nearly as wide nor comfortable as the captain’s bed on the Quadrant, topped with Yondu’s furs that Peter could never bring himself to discard. But the bed on the Benatar was sturdy, and Gamora had an easier time rising from it.
At the time, she also couldn’t help but notice that it had been neatly made, the blankets folded and pillows fluffed just the way she liked them.
“You cleaned up,” she’d said. Gone were the piles of clothes Peter had thrown haphazardly on the floor. There weren’t any bags of candy lying around either, and there weren’t any specks of sugar that Gamora usually found on the bedside table. The wooden table and dresser had gleamed brightly, and the floor looked like it had been vacuumed.
“Yeah,” Peter said, drawing closer to her as he nuzzled the top of her head. “Couldn’t welcome you back with a mess now, could I?”
Gamora had smiled, pleased, and moved to face him as she drew up on her toes to kiss him.
Now, more than a week after ridding the galaxy of Thanos’s terror, Gamora entered the bedroom with less trepidation, and more familiarity. She swept around the space, picking up one of Peter’s shirts from the floor and moving one of their holo tablets from the dresser to the bedside table. The wooden furniture was already beginning to collect a bit of dust, but even she was too worn by the day’s events to get started on that.
The Guardians had elected to stay on Earth for the time being, making their rounds on the planet before heading back into space, where Gamora knew they truly belonged. They had spent a couple days in the regal country of Wakanda as Gamora rested - and was treated with a level of respect that she didn’t feel she deserved. Following that, they set out to Missouri, Peter’s childhood home, and that entire experience had been what Rocket later described was, “Intense as all hell.”
Now, they had stationed themselves in a place called Nu York, and the past two days been spent regrouping with the Avengers... Or what was left of the Terran warriors. The Guardians attended funerals to honor those who had given their lives in the battle to save the universe. Although Gamora had caught mere glimpses of their physical forms in battle, she knew their souls, and she honored them for their sacrifices. During this solemn time, old friends were reunited, and new bonds were quickly formed. Being back amongst the living felt, at times, almost as chaotic and overwhelming as being in the soul stone.
Gamora preferred living much more.
She hung Godslayer up on its hook, the one closest to the bed, and sat on it to remove her boots. Peter was in the shower, and if she could muster the energy later, she would take one as well. They hadn’t showered or slept much on the Benatar since their last battle, and Peter was a self-proclaimed “creature of comfort.” He wanted to spend tonight on their ship instead of the nearby hotel, where the other Guardians had opted to stay.
After carefully placing her boots in the corner, Gamora removed her jacket to hang it on the hook closest to the door.
She felt something in her jacket’s pocket, and pulled out Peter’s music player.
He must have slipped it in her jacket before heading toward the bathroom.
Gamora stared at the screen as she slowly made her way back to the bed.
Carefully, almost reverently, she put in the earbuds and turned on the device.
It had taken her a lot of patience and research to decipher the titles and artist names over the years. When Peter told her the titles, she stored them away for safekeeping, holding them as close to her heart as she did with her memories. In the soul stone, her memories of her real family – her mother and father, Nebula, the Guardians, and especially Peter – had kept her from succumbing to despair.
Gamora sat down on her side of the bed, and pressed the ‘Play’ button.