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At first, being followed around by a friendly houseplant was annoying. Rocket was a man of dignity if nothing else (even if he had a new definition of dignity every week) It was hard enough keeping up his image of a tough guy as a three-foot furry creature without the walking goofy flower pot.
But it was pretty clear even early on that the big root guy had his uses. He could reach things in high places and Rocket wouldn’t have to suffer the indignity of climbing like a squirrel. He could lift the little raccoon when his legs got tired and settle him in the branches of his shoulders. He let off brightly lit spores when the nights got particularly dark or cold, and his big dopey smiling face was pretty nice to wake up to, given that trees don’t apparently sleep. It was kind of weird at first being watched while he slept, but with time, that feeling of “watched” turned into a feeling of “watched over.”
Plus there was the incontestable advantage of having a giant monster that can’t feel pain on your side in fights. Rocket suddenly started winning the countless bar scuffs he wound up in usually through his own loud mouth, and he’d be damned to say he didn’t love it.
It had actually been Groot’s idea originally to officially join him as a bounty hunter across the stars. Deciphering his uniquely restrictive language had been a struggle at first, but he was understanding him with ease within only a few weeks. It wasn’t too hard to translate three words, after all.
Their little crime-fighting duet act took them all over the galaxies (and occasionally notcrime-fighting if the price was right) and Rocket came to know Groot as the first and only friend he’s ever had. Not that he’d ever get sappy about it, mind you.
Their current target was the necklace of a woman made of some kind of priceless teeth. Getting the necklace from her was the easy part. Getting back off the planet was proving much more difficult.
“Groot! You mind tellin’ me how you failed to mention that this dirty marble has registration?!” The raccoon howls over the sound of gunfire, spinning his small ship in a remarkable display of evasion from the police drones behind them.
Groot shrugs his large heavy shoulders, frowning sadly as his vines cling against the surfaces of the ship to avoid being thrown around. If he were human and prone to outbursts he might have smacked himself in the face for his own stupidity. Why hadn't he told Rocket? He couldn't even remember thinking to tell Rocket when he found out. In fact, he couldn't even remember finding out before a few minutes ago.
"I am Groot," he says sorrowfully.
“Don’t sass me!” Rocket yowls as they make a sharp curve down the side of a canyon and lean sideways to make it between two pillars. Two of the seven drones chasing of them aren’t quick enough to copy the maneuver and explode in a shower of sparks against the rocky ledge.
It isn’t Groot’s fault. Neither of them knew that to land on the planet legally, you had to register in one of the many ports. They just landed in the woods outside the lady’s back yard. Once they were discovered as illegal fugitives on the surface, the police were immediately after them.
It isn’t Groot’s fault, but Rocket is perfectly comfortable blaming him.
“Remind me to snap off a few of your twigs later!” Rocket screeches as he pulls back on the drive stick to make the ship turn on a dime and spiral upwards out of the canyon, losing another drone in the pursuit.
Groot's frown only deepens. He got them into this mess, somehow. He doesn't remember knowing anything about registering but if Rocket says he knew, he must have.
The least he can do is save him the trouble of being angry while they're trying to escape. With a low, pitiful whimper he breaks off a small piece of his own arm and hands it to Rocket.
"I am Groot?" he says, smiling hopefully at his friend.
Rocket spares a few seconds of incredulous staring at the twig held out to him, he can feel his face heat up underneath his fur.
“Quit breakin’ yourself you overgrown yew!” he splutters and makes another quick turn, leaving another wailing police drone behind in a sticky web of some kind.
He evades the cops with a clever dive into a dense forest, and lands the ship. He quickly hits the major power switch, effectively darkening the entire craft in seconds. The drones go wailing overhead, their lights illuminating the windshield for a brief second before their screaming sirens fade into the distance.
Rocket slumps back into his seat with a sigh. “We’re gonna have to wait it out. Take off again tonight when nobody’s around.”
“I am Groot?”
“No, we can’t stay on the ship,” Rocket unbuckles his belt and slides down out of his seat. “If the lice do find the ship, they’ll find us on it. We’ll be a lot harder to track if we’re on foot. Pry open the hatch now, would’ya? I don’t wanna risk turning the ship back on.”
Groot nods and goes to the hatch. His fingers lengthen and thin to fit into the grooves in the metal so he can grip the hatch before tugging up sharply, pulling the square door completely free of the ship.
He climbs through the hatch first and turns to face Rocket, offering his hand to lift the raccoon out of the ship.
Rocket stares at the hatch with a low whine in his throat and turns his wide, burning gaze to his companion.
“I said open it! Not rip it off! How do you expect us to travel in deep space without a friggin’ door?” Groot whimpers and shrinks down. Rocket closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, yanking the door from the flora colossus’ hands and setting it back in the hole it was tugged from. “We’ll figure that out later. We gotta scram and find someplace to hunker down before the police circle back around. You better believe you’re carrying me.”
Groot's frown instantly transforms into a wide grin. He loves carrying Rocket. It makes him feel safe and warm, having his friend so close.
"I am Groot!" Groot says cheerfully.
He doesn't wait for Rocket to answer before he picks him up and settles him on his shoulder, a branch growing out of the top of his arm that the raccoon can hold on to.
“Yeah right you are,” Rocket mutters disdainfully, staring longingly back at his mangled hatch before ordering the tree to walk “that way” without discretion.
He hooks his chin over the branch with a huff. They’re going to need to find a way to fix the ship, first. Which will be hard, given that they’re unregistered, and even stopping at a gas depot without being registered is grounds to be shot down by the police. It’s too late to get registered now, and Rocket is not going back to prison on a technicality. Then once they fix the ship, they have to make it back through one of the ports that boost the ships out of the planet’s oppressive gravity, also difficult with no registration.
Rocket has apparently been whining to himself while he thinks, because before he knows it, flowers are sprouting up around him, unfurling white and purple petals in an effort to soothe him. He huffs and kicks one of the blooms, crossing his arm on the branch in front of him and hiding his face in his forearms.
“We hecked up,” he mutters, rubbing his cold nose against Groot’s smooth bark.
"I am Groot," Groot says, blooming more flowers in an effort to cheer Rocket up. He's lucky his friend lets him stay with him when he messes up so often. The least he can do is try to make him feel better after.
“No, it’s not your fault,” Rocket mutters into his forearms. “Don’t apologize. We’ll make it out of this. We make it out of everything.”
He sighs and rests his cheek on the branch, curling his tail around another knob. He starts to pick the flowers and weave them together to give him something to do while they wander aimlessly through the woods. Luckily, Groot has a pretty wide berth of natural damage, broken sticks and overturned logs and boulders, which will lead them easily back to the ship later.
By the time Groot comes upon what looks like an extremely old and very broken-down barn, he has a full crown of flowers weaved into the bark on his head. Which is useless considering he can bloom the flowers there voluntarily, but the gift is nevertheless heartwarming.
“Sunset,” Rocket mutters when Groot sets him down in the grass. “Guess we’re not leaving tonight after all. We gotta fix the ship now anyway thanks to your incompetence. That’s what I get for teaming up with a magnolia.” He scurries through a small crack in the wood, shimmying through the wall and locates a pair of rusty bolt cutters to make quick work of the chains bolting the wide, leaning front doors shut.
"I am Groot," Groot says indignantly. He lets Rocket try pushing the door open before lifting one hand and effortlessly pulling the heavy old wood open.
Rocket almost falls flat on his belly when the colossus drags the heavy wood open. “I know you’re not actually a magnolia,” Rocket huffs, wiping his paws on his trousers. “Now close the door, we gotta get a campfire going in here or I’ll freeze. I don’t keep you around for the warmth you give off.”
“I am Groot?”
“I keep you around for the conversation.”
Groot’s laughter sounds like trees creaking in a strong wind. It’s a familiar, homey kind of sound that makes Rocket feel warm. Groot is happy to grow branches and snap them off to build a hearty campfire in a bed of rocks, well away from the old straw piled in the corners. They have a warm fire going before the sun is even completely set, with Groot at a safe distance to avoid being ignited. Rocket is asleep on a bed of flowers grown just for him within the hour.
Before going to sleep Rocket had told Groot to keep watch. To stay on lookout and not wake him for anything other than someone coming towards their hiding place. He had said he would take care of the fire so Groot didn't have to get too close.
Which is why he doesn't turn around when the red-yellow glow inside the barn gets brighter. He can’t feel the room get warmer.
Rocket hadn’t accounted for the embers of the fire. The fire itself was a safe distance from the straw piles, but the embers floated on the breeze that drifted in through the broken windows, and the dead hay was lit up in seconds.
The sleeping Raccoon doesn’t even register it until a soaring spark lands on his paw. He yowls awake and his eyes widen. Half the barn is ignited, and Groot is still squatting by the door without a care in the world.
“Groot!” his shout is lost in the loud crackling of the ancient barn caving in on itself.
Groot turns so quickly some of his bark cracks. His jaw drops open, his eyes wide in shock as he takes in the scene in front of him. Half the barn is ablaze, burning red and yellow, flames growing higher and stretching across the floor and the walls towards him and, more importantly, Rocket.
Rocket, who is in the middle of it all. Who has no means of escape. Who will burn or suffocate from the smoke if he doesn't do something quickly.
Without thinking Groot sets his face in determination and lumbers into the flames, towards his friend, his only thought to protect him. He almost doesn't notice when a few of his smaller twigs catch fire.
“No!” Rocket hurls a rock at the approaching wooden man. “You’re a goddamn tree! You’ll burn up!” He curls his tail in and stamps out the fire that started in his fur.
Groot halts worriedly, his branches creaking with worry. He jumps back when a loud cracking comes with the sudden plummet of the burning overhead beam. Half the ceiling caves in and Groot has to take several quick steps back to avoid being littered with the smoldering debris.
When next he looks into the flames, Rocket is trapped on his back beneath the giant flaming beam. His foot is caught beneath a pile of broken boards, and he’s panting. Blood is seeping from a head wound hidden in his fur, and he counts his blessings that the part of the beam over his body isn’t actually on fire. Burning alive seemed like a much worse way to go than being slowly and quietly suffocated by smoke.
“Groot!” he hollers when he sees the tree still standing a few feet away, anxiously shifting his weight from foot to foot. “Get the hell out of here!”
Groot looks at the door. It's so close, beckoning him to leave. He quickly looks away, back to Rocket. He can see blood on his friend's head and the pain in his eyes. He can't leave him.
But what can he do?
Whining pitifully he looks around, desperately searching for someway to help his friend. A fire resistant rope, maybe, that he can toss through the flames where his arms can't go so he can pull him through to safety. Or a fire extinguisher. Or a hose. With water. Water sounds good now, it's hot and his bark is drying out...
Rocket's yelp as another beam falls pulls his attention back. He needs to help Rocket. He just needs to find a way how. He can't leave without him.
“Go on, get out of here!” Rocket screams over the roar of the flames. He tries to wriggle out from under the beam, jerking his foot free of the boards with only a little fur missing. His tail whips back and forth in frustration. He could die here – it would suck to die for a damn necklace – but he’d go to Hell before he let Groot die for his own negligence.
His chest feels tight, tears sting his eyes, and not from the smoke. He can see Groot’s branches lighting up at the tips, the fool is so flammable. “You gotta get out of here, buddy!” he coughs, trying to wiggle a hand free to wipe the saliva from his lips, but he’s trapped. He can’t let Groot die for this. That is not an option.
"I am Groot," Groot says, shaking his head.
“Don’t argue with me!” Rocket’s fur is wet around his eyes. “This isn’t how you die!”
Groot doesn’t know what to do. His brain, rudimentary as it is, tells him to obey Rocket as he always does. But his spirit overwhelms the rest of his body with the need to save the trapped Raccoon. One step more into the flames lights his leg, and he knows that isn’t an option as he smacks the fire out with his palms.
He can’t save him. His bark shakes and his leaves shrivel. He’d burn up before he even got close, and if he did manage to hold together long enough to get to him, he’d be burning and it wouldn’t be safe for him to pick up his fleshy friend. He can’t save Rocket.
Rocket’s whole body aches at once when he sees the colossus turn around and leave the barn. He reminds himself that he told Groot to leave, but some squealing voice in the back of his head wished that the tree man would die with him. Ultimately he’d prefer him alive.
Groot was too good to die like this. He’s a genuinely good tree-person. It’s hard to find genuinely good people in the universe, let alone in the business of bounty hunting. Rocket’s never met a genuinely good person before, and he hasn’t met one since. If there’s even one person in the limitless universe who deserves to live, if the universe were being torn apart by a massive cosmic singularity and only one person could survive, it should be Groot.
Rocket might not have known him long, but he would die for him. He’s never been willing to die for someone before. He can’t identify the feeling making his limbs shake and his chest ache and his throat feet dry, and he doesn’t have long to figure it out.
Every step away from the barn fills Groot with a pain the like of which he's never felt before. It's almost physical. He can almost feel his wooden heart breaking. He stops to look back at the barn, almost reversing completely to go back and die with the raccoon he loves.
He does love Rocket. He knows that. That's why he left. Because he loves Rocket and won't let him die angry. He won’t let him ever be forgotten.
He turns away from the burning barn and continues into the forest. Maybe someone will see the flames and save the raccoon from the fire. Maybe this isn't the end for them. It's unlikely, but he can hope. He's always been an optimistic tree.
Stopping again, he looks back. He can't see the barn through the trees anymore but he can see the glow in the distance. It's faint. The whole barn probably isn't on fire yet. Maybe Rocket escaped.
He runs.
He runs, loud, heavy steps, until he can't continue. His heart hurts too much to keep running. He doesn't want to take another step. He'd rather stay here forever with the trees and mourn his lost Rocket.
He is about to sit down on the edge of a black pond when he gets an idea. Which is strange; he isn't usually smart enough for good ideas. That's what Rocket does. But this one is good, and rather than sit, he springs into the water, submerging himself in the cold water.
It doesn't take long to become waterlogged. The wood of his body is porous and allows water in easily. He soaks up as much as he can before dragging his swollen, wet body out onto the surface and taking off in the direction of the barn, running as fast as his legs will carry him. Hopefully it isn't too late.
The barn is collapsing by the time he returns. He gives a garbled shout and barrels through the caving entryway, the door long felled. The fire doesn’t harm a single twig, but he can feel his body getting lighter as the water lets off steam.
Rocket is in exactly the same spot. He’s not struggling anymore. He’s lying completely still, arms by his sides, head turned flat, eyes shut. Groot shakes with fear and hefts the beam off the raccoon without a problem. He lifts his still companion and charges back out of the barn. He doesn’t stop until he’s back at the pond’s edge, leaving the burning structure far behind him.
Laying Rocket on the pebbled shore, he kneels beside his fallen friend. He lifts a paw and releases it. It falls heavily to the stones. A wounded sound leaves him and he shakes the quiet raccoon. He can’t be too late, he won’t believe it. He finally had a good idea, he has to tell Rocket. He has to wake up so Groot can tell him how good he did, and then Rocket will try not to smile and he might lay a paw on his arm.
As gently as he can he lifts the raccoon's limp body again and cradles him against his chest, sprouting leaves to keep him comfortable. He'll wake up soon, Groot is sure. He just needs a few minutes. He'll wake up.
But he still isn't moving. Even as Groot holds him close and safe against him. Rocket isn't moving and for the first time, as he whimpers in despair, Groot wishes he could cry.
His chest isn’t moving. As far as Groot understands, Rockets don’t breathe like trees do. He doesn’t have even one leaf or a single pore. His chest moves and the air goes inside of him instead of through him. His chest isn’t moving.
Taking a breath isn’t easy when you’re a creature with no lungs. It’s hard enough to will enough air through him to vibrate the vines that act as basic vocal chords. But he takes a breath as deep as his body will allow, swelling his bark out as he stores the air, and then seals his lipless mouth around Rocket’s snout and blows.
The raccoon’s chest inflates and his eyes snap open and Groot quickly releases him. Rocket turns over in his arms and coughs so hard his lungs could spill out of his body. His claws dig into the wood of Groot’s arms, his tail puffing up in agitation. “My mouth tastes like sap!” he wheezes, shivering in Groot’s hold, spitting on the ground with deep, full-bodied coughs.
Groot doesn't care that Rocket is angry. He'd be happy to have him angry for the rest of his life, which is entirely possible since Rocket is rarely anything else, as long as that means he'll be angry for a very long time.
Grinning, he pulls the raccoon even closer and hugs him tight against his still damp wood. "I am Groot!" he exclaims happily.
“Obviously I’m not dead,” Rocket turns over in the bed of leaves and presses his nose against Groot’s chest. Although, it strikes him odd that he is. Last he knew he was losing consciousness in the middle of an existential internal debate and everything was on fire. Last he remembers, Groot left. “You came back for me?” he whispers hoarsely, turning his face up towards the ecstatic tree.
Groot nods enthusiastically and points at the pond.
"I am Groot!" the tree says excitedly. "I am Groot!"
Rocket turns his attention to the pond and then back up at the tree. He does feel a little damp on his paws. His face heats up again and he presses it against the cool, flat surface of Groot’s chest.
“You big stupid oak,” he mutters, squeezing his eyes shut. Groot came back for him. He actually risked his life to save Rocket. Nobody has ever, ever done that before. Nobody has ever cared about him enough. Nobody has ever cared about him at all.
Groot cares about him. Groot was willing to die for him. He looks up at his wide smile and shiny eyes, he hears the low, creaky trilling in his chest, and watches as little white flowers sprout across the crown of his head. He thinks, privately, nothing has ever looked so beautiful in his life.
Grabbing hold of what would have been Groot’s collarbone, he hauls himself to a stand and wraps his little arms as far as they’ll go around the tree’s neck. There are a few trigs jabbing him in uncomfortable places, and he knows Groot can’t strictly feel him, but he’s no good with words. This is all he can do.
Groot's smile softens and he leans his head, his cheek resting on Rocket's head as he wraps his arms around the raccoon's tiny body.
"I am Groot," he admits.
Rocket swallows the noise he almost makes. He feels his eyes go wet again, but Groot is already so wet he won’t feel it if a couple tears splash down on his bark. He never expected in his whole life he’d hear anybody confess they couldn’t live without him. The idea is so outlandish, so foreign; it’s so far from the realm of possibility in Rocket’s lifetime.
“Dumbass,” he wipes his cheek on Groot’s flat face, nuzzling against him with no shame. His tail curls around the giant’s wrist and his nails scratch against the back of his neck, kneading him reflexively.
He didn’t have very long while trapped under that beam to come to grips with things. He didn’t even do enough in his life for it to flash in front of his eyes. In those last moments, the one thing in his mind was Groot. The only thing he could think about, the only thing he cared about, was this big idiot.
He pulls back and grabs the branches on Groot’s cheeks to force him to make eye contact. “Next time I tell you to save yourself, I mean it. None of this martyr crap. I can’t die in peace knowing you’re coming up with ideas for how to save me.”
Groot shifts uncomfortably and whines in distress. Normally he would agree to anything Rocket asked but he can't agree to this. He can't agree to letting Rocket die and doing nothing to save him.
"I am Groot," he says as firmly as he can. "I am Groot."
Rocket feels dizzy. He has to grip Groot’s shoulders to keep from falling over backwards. His knees can’t support him and he sits down on the tree’s wrists. His heart beats three times too fast, his paws start to sweat, his face heats up.
“You love me?” he asks hoarsely, staring with purpose into the eyes of the colossus. He’s lit from behind by the flaming barn in the distance like a halo. Fitting.
"I am Groot," Groot says, nodding. He's completely oblivious to Rocket's distress. Of course he loves Rocket. How could he not? The raccoon is smart and brave and takes such good care of Groot. He is his entire world. But Rocket would be angry if he said all that. He doesn't like it when Groot gets 'mushy.' So saying he loves him will do.
Rocket’s entire idea of how his life will be comes crashing down. Love wasn’t ever part of the equation. Nobody can love a raccoon. He didn’t expect it, he didn’t need it, and until this exact moment, he didn’t even want it.
He certainly didn’t ever expect that the first thing to love him would be a tree. It feels like an anchor has settled in Rocket’s chest. A warm, sort of fuzzy weight filling his shoulders and belly, down into his toes and throughout his tail. To be loved by a tree feels so much more substantial than anything else.
Rocket isn’t sure if what he feels is love. He’s not sure exactly what that feels like. But he knows he’s comfortable calling it love.
He curls up against Groot’s chest, curling his tail over his feet and picking at the burnt fur. His thin lips curl into a smile and he rubs his cheek against Groot’s chest plate.
“Okay,” he says quietly. “You can die with me.”
As far as love confessions go it’s not in the top ten. What he meant to say was that Groot could stay with him forever. That Groot could love him for Rocket’s entire meager life span. That he could mourn him when he dies and love him for the rest of his life, a long as trees live. The best immortality there is, to be loved by a tree.