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Groot had been napping, comfortably tucked away in his own little corner of the ship. He was growing fast now, and had come out of his flower-pot just yesterday. It was taking time to really find his feet again, but he'd undoubtedly be back to his usual steady self in no time.
Nevertheless, all the exercise he'd insisted in taking part in to speed the growing process had left him more than a little fatigued. He'd settled down, cloaked himself in thick vines of ivy, and gratefully closed his eyes.
He'd just begun to dream a very strange dream involving his teammates and ill-placed flower crowns, when a boisterous bit of bickering interrupted his reverie.
“What. Is that.”
“It appears to be some creature with relation to yourself, friend Rocket.”
“Related to me, are ya kidding? I ain't never been that small an' useless in my life!”
“It's charming, in a strangely pathetic way.”
Peter rolled his eyes as the tiny thing clawed its way up his jacket sleeve. “You people friggin' suck. She'll fit right in!”
“I am Groot?” Groot padded from his sleeping place to where the others stood – noting with some satisfaction that he was a full two inches taller than Rocket now – and stopped short at the sight of the thing now batting happily at a very confused Drax.
“Why does it wish to wage battle with me? Its blows are little more than air!”
“If it is attacking, its style is incredibly inefficient,” Gamora noted.
While Peter clapped a palm to his forehead, Groot nudged Rocket's shoulder.
“Hey buddy. Can you believe this?” Shaking his head, his best friend waved his hand at the others in a kind of agitated dismissal. “Damn crazy, all of 'em. Letting whatever that ball of squeaky fur is onta this bucket of junk.”
“It's just a kitten, Rocket,” said Peter. “Found her sniffing 'round the engine jets just before we took off, and hell I wasn't gonna be the one to see the little girl go up in flames.”
Groot blinked and cocked his head to the side. The thing was covered in grey and white fur with a pink little nose the color of peach blossoms, and wide blue eyes that dominated its face. It was uncoordinated and it flopped.
Groot was instantly smitten.
“A kitten, you say?” Gamora came forward to inspect it, her gaze suspicious. “What is its function? Is it an engineered weapon, as Rocket is?”
“I told you idiots, that thing is nothin' like me!”
“No, it's not a weapon. Jesus. It's just –”
“I am Groot! ”
“Cute? ” Rocket's mouth dropped like he'd been utterly betrayed. “The hell d'you mean it's cute? We all know I'm the cute one around here!”
Gamora snickered, Peter roared with laughter, and even Drax cracked a toothy grin.
“Keep telling yourself that, pal.” Their close-enough-to-a-leader strode easily to where Groot stood with stars in his eyes. “Wanna meet her?”
At the tree-man's eager nod, Peter carefully placed the kitten into Groot's outstretched hand. It stared up at his barky features unblinking, ears and nose all a-twitching.
“Miaow?”
“I...I am Groot.” He spoke shyly, and a single finger-branch was extended to scritch gently behind the kitten's ears. It started then let out the tiniest rumbling Groot had ever been witness to.
He hastily removed his finger. What had he done wrong? Did it explode if handled badly?
“Miaooow!” It pushed its head against Groot's hand, and scowled up at him when he didn't get the hint. It proceeded to continue releasing its odd drawn-out wailing, until the scritching was continued and the rumbling returned for an encore performance.
“Extraordinary!” exclaimed Drax. “It is like a light switch of temperament.”
“Basically,” shrugged Peter. “People would keep them as pets on Earth. Like a companion.”
Gamora had joined Groot now, lightly trailing her fingers through the grey fur over its spine. Her lips were unwillingly twitching upward. “She should be given a name,” the warrioress murmured.
“Star Lady!” Peter smiled what he thought was his most winning smile. “Yeah?”
“This creature is not of the stars,” Drax said, “Therefore your choice of name is unfit. I say she be known as the Rumbler.”
“'The Rumbler'? Seriously?”
“Star-Lord has a point.” Gamora ceased her petting only to cross arms over her chest. “Your name does not capture all of her essence, for she makes all manner of noises. Her name shall be Melody.”
“I say yer all full of it, and that she should be called 'gone',” snapped Rocket. He was making a point of not looking at where the kitten was curled contentedly in Groot's gentle hands. “What good would she be anyways?”
“I am Groot.”
“Don't you gimme that.”
Groot's brows drew together and he stamped his foot impatiently. When his friend continued to ignore him he extended a branch that was pointier than strictly necessary, poked at Rocket's ears and whiskers, until his friend finally gave him his gaze.
Groot let his mouth gain a downward curve, and sprouted tiny thorns around his eyes so that they began to water.
“Aw c'mon, really?” Rocket's tone took on a pleading edge. “You know pullin' that look on me ain't playing fair.” He squirmed as Groot somehow made his lower lip quiver. “Buddy, it's just a damn cat. Cut it out.”
Groot brought the kitten up to his chest, cradling it against the bark. He looked down at it, then back to the uncomfortable raccoon. “She am Groot,” he said plaintively.
“Oh no. No no no you are not playing that card.”
“I, she are Groot.”
“'Peach'? Not only d'you wanna keep the damn thing, you wanna name it after a fruit?”
Groot held his head high and lofty as he could hold it. He purposefully nuzzled his cheek against the kitten's fur, holding Rocket's eyes all the while.
Something in Rocket's face crumbled for the smallest moment, before his eyes went suddenly sharp. “Fine. Whatever. Keep the stupid furball.” He threw up his hands and stomped off.
“Why is the hairy one so perturbed?” Drax frowned at Rocket's retreating back. “The kitten is harmless, and not big enough to be of any annoyance.”
Gamora and Peter exchanged a look. “Let's just say it not just the kitten that's got him pissed,” said Peter.
“Leave him be,” Gamora added. “He'll come around, I'm sure. We are a team, after all.”
As the others chatted about business that needed doing around the ship, Groot retreated back to his sleeping place and sat down, placing Peach on his shoulder. She pawed at his face, mewing inquisitively.
“I am Groot,” he reassured her. He lay his hands in his lap, and set about putting forth a nest of leaves, petals and pine needles for Peach to rest on. She scampered down his arm, digging in surprisingly sharp claws when she stumbled, before rolling onto the makeshift bedding. She patted it down, curled up, yawned a most precious yawn, and closed her eyes.
Groot smiled down at his new friend, but it wasn't a smile meant to last.
He didn't understand. Why was Rocket, his best friend in the whole of the galaxy, so angry with him? He hadn't been this way when the pair of them had joined with the other Guardians. He had been prickly and defensive and all around a cocky pile of compost, yes, but Groot was more than used to that. But this different emotion, this thorny spearing jealousy, was new to him. Probably to them both.
Drax had said Peach, his little darling Peach, was harmless, and too small to be trouble. Now, he wasn't so sure.
*
Rocket sat hunched over his smorgasbord of a tool box, muttering as he pawed through wrenches and pliers and oh that's where he'd put that spare box of grenades, it'd been months since he'd seen that relic, he'd really been missing it too.
Almost as much as he'd been missing his idiot tree of a friend over the past week.
It had been all Peach this and Peach that and dammit, Groot had somehow got the rest of the schmucks on board too. Look Rocket, they'd say, See how she does this thing where she chases after the sniping light from my gun, and laughing at it falling over itself when it tried to make too-big jumps, and Oh man look at her and that bootlace, she loves that thing.
And the cooing. God, the cooing. The most fearsome fighting force the galaxy had ever seen, all reduced to a bunch of simpering, goofy-faced numbskulls over a pound and a half of squalling fuzz. He swore, if he had to hear one more agonizingly high-pitched “Oo goo, who is my little Rumbler” from Drax he was going to shove him out the airlock with his feet glued permanently to his face.
Last he'd checked, Gamora was trying to teach the thing to defend itself. Quill had laughed at her until the assassin had calmly intoned “Kill” and the kitten had latched onto the human's nose with its teeth until Gamora removed it herself.
Groot had never looked so happy, these past few days.
Every glowing grin from the sappy bastard had sent hot little knives crawling down Rocket's throat, then he would turn away and find an excuse to go somewhere else. He couldn't decide who he was angrier at – Groot for deserting him or the damned upstart cat for meowing its way into their lives.
He was alone, so he let his usual half-scowl fall a moment. A kind of frantic weariness came upon his features then, and he let the tools slide from his grasp. It wasn't fair. It wasn't. They were supposed to –
“Miaow.”
“Agh!” He jumped, nearly tripping over the bin on which he sat. “The hell, man? What's that thing doing there? I got work ta do.”
“I am Groot.” He'd grown at least another foot in the past week alone, if not more, and was starting to tower over Rocket again like he'd used to. He looked almost as uncertain as Rocket felt, but his eyes were not clouded and his mouth was not stuck in a frown. No, instead he wore a little half-smile, almost looking as he were asking Rocket's permission to share a happy moment with him.
“Whaddya want? I'm busy.”
Groot held out Peach, who perked up her ears and leaned forward to sniff at the raccoon. Rocket rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I see that. It's your new favorite toy.”
Groot stared at him woodenly before shaking his head. He laid his hands flat so that Peach could stand, then brought her up so her blue eyes were on level with Rocket's brown ones.
Rocket wriggled his shoulders to ease the tension building there. He'd never been stared down before; there was no way he was gonna get his ass handed to him by a pipsqueak like this. He put on his best “Bitch, please” face and settled in to wait.
But Groot simply blew out a sigh, then snuck out long vines to hold his smaller friend in place.
“Hey! What gives?” Rocket struggled against the binding with incredible inefficiency. “Let me out, you walking pile of kindling!”
Groot turned Peach so that he could see her face. He brushed her nose with his finger, then reached out to do the same to Rocket. He made a noise that sounded suspiciously like “Boop.”
“Has Quill been teaching you bullshit human words again?”
Groot tenderly bumped his face against Peach's, then drew back and gestured to Rocket, whose expression became awash in horrified understanding.
“Hell no way, man. That thing could have diseases. Dangerous diseases that could kill me. You really wanna risk that?”
Groot was making no move to hide the low chuckling that tumbled out of him as he advanced like a tree with all the time in the world. Face all alight, he brought the kitten closer and closer until it was not more than two inches from Rocket's alarmed features.
“I am boop,” he encouraged. Peach licked at her paws then padded forward. She gave Rocket a look that was entirely too piercing for something that small, then leaned forward and smooshed her fuzzy, furry face against Rocket's. She rubbed up and down, licked at his nose, and purred a tiny little purr.
Rocket blinked once, twice. A third time for good measure.
“Miaow?” Peach nuzzled him, then put her paws on his nose and pushed up so she could stare right down into his soul.
Seriously, how could something smaller than a handgun even do that?
“We are Groot,” Groot reminded him. Then he gently squeezed Rocket's shoulder, carefully pulled Peach off of his face, put her atop his head and sauntered sedately away. The vines unwound themselves from Rocket's ankles to trail after their source.
Groot started counting to himself, on his long fingers.
Rocket, once he was able to move again, grumbled at length and brushed at the soil on the tops of his feet. Were one to listen in on said grumbling, one might hear such phrases as “give 'em the satisfaction” and “can't prove anythin'” and “adorable damn mind-control”.
Groot had barely reached fifteen when the sound of feet not much larger than Peach's padding, well, stomping after them reached his ears. He wisely smothered a triumphant and vaguely uncharitable grin, and waited to turn around until he heard his friend admit defeat.
“Peach Grenade. Junior.”
“I am Groot?”
“Well my name's already Rocket, she can't have it.” His arms were crossed and he looked entirely unamused. “So she'll hafta be Grenade instead. Junior. Since she's little.”
When Groot remained silent, Rocket glared up at him. “Listen you overgrown houseplant, I ain't gotta be happy about it, but at least I'm lettin' her stay. And since I'm lettin' her stay, I get to add to her name. Rolls of the tongue better than plain old 'Peach' anyway.”
Groot smiled his biggest smile yet. “We are Groot!” he crowed, and huggled Peach Grenade Junior to his chest once again.
“Yeah, yeah.” Rocket let his black little heart warm up, just enough to allow his face a fraction of its own smile. “We are Groot.”