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I.
Groot cares for all living beings, but has a particular weakness for animals. Peter has noticed this. Every now and again the guardians visit Earth, sometimes for business, but most times for pleasure. The flora colossus seems to make a new friend with each visit, always adorned in a variety of creatures, from swallows to squirrels. They peck and pat curiously at the bark, climb atop moss covered shoulders. Groot basks in the attention, the feel of being useful without a need for violence. An incredible innocence encompasses the imagery.
Rocket keeps himself busy with projects. When Groot returns, he avoids him, and blames his irritability on wanting parts he doesn't really need.
II.
It is dawn. The guardians are asleep, with the exception of two.
Rocket is precise with the routine. He smooths the soil, pours an abundance of water, and sets Groot where ever the cheery seedling wants. It feels childish at first, taking orders from this tiny plant, but the more Groot grows, the more excited he gets. Soon enough the tiring tasks become automatic, and even feel a little rewarding.
“Quill says that if you talk to plants, they grow faster.” Rocket sniggers, leaning back in his chair. “You ever heard of anything so stupid?”
Groot sways back and forth in response, his happy expression unchanged since he sprouted.
“I ain't doin' this for just you, you know. Things ain't easy at my height.” He raises a paw above him and shakes his head as he continues, “Soon as you grow up, it's back to business, you and me.”
The smallest noise is emitted from the former colossus. Even at such an early stage, Rocket understands completely.
“Yeah,” he says with a grin. “I guess I am your muscle now.”
In the room beside them, Gamora is smiling at the ceiling.
III.
He's never lonely. There are moments he's curious and wants to ask Peter about his so-called species, but every time he ultimately decides against it. He doesn't want to know what he was, what could have been. He's fine with what he became, for the most part. He doesn't appreciate sympathy. He doesn't need it. He should be treated like everyone else.
Once in a while, after he bathes, he can't help himself. He rubs at a fogged mirror and takes in his reflection. The enhancements don't hurt anymore. Still, the sight infuriates him. He's always felt like a monster with them, but he fears he's probably useless without them.
He stays in the bathroom all night, watching the mirror, as if an answer will be written on the glass. He falls asleep, angry.
*
Rocket wakes up the following morning and sees that Groot had found a place beside him on the floor.
VI.
“C'mon Groot, show this big blue hunk 'a junk what you're made of! That's it, that's it!”
“Let's go, Big D! Take this splinter down!”
When Peter first introduced the Terran game, nobody really wanted to take part in it. Two opponents, one winner. It seemed basic enough, but to only use a single arm? Where was the fun in that? Each had a change of heart, however, when they finally succumbed to Peter's pleading and attempted it. Drax, who grew to love the game, had gone undefeated.
Both their grips are steady, confident. Drax can tell that the usually neutral Groot is equally determined to win. Peter stands behind him, constantly calling out insults and garbled support. Rocket is also enthusiastic, though focuses more on cheering his loyal companion than taunting the others.
“You can do it big guy!” Rocket throws eager punches into the air. His eyes widen with every close call, his praise only getting louder in hopes of aiding Groot to victory. “Bring it home!”
Drax's arm falls with a heavy thud. The large man is in great disbelief, but he smiles through it. He extends the hand that lost outward. Groot accepts it happily, shaking much longer than necessary. Rocket hops in a victorious frenzy, his voice booming through the halls of the ship as they exited the bunk for celebratory drinks.
There's a silence between the two partners, and then it hits Peter.
“You let him win,” the young captain mutters, “didn't you?”
Drax is in a daze. A guilty smile stays plastered on his face.
V.
Rocket was this close to surrendering. Nothing had ever frustrated him so much in so little time.
“How the hell do you keep these things together? They're flimsy as shit.”
Groot hums lowly, glancing at Rocket's progress from time to time as he slits into the daises with his finger. “I am Groot.”
“Yeah, well, this is impossible.” He throws his failed attempt into the air, a mess of petals falling over him. “Something's wrong with my flowers. I want a do-over.”
“Wait, you can blow up moons and take over space stations, but you can't make a daisy chain?”
“You shut up, Quill!”
Groot can't help but laugh. Rocket's fiery temper scares most, but to him, it's as if being with a child at all times. Anxious to learn everything. Impatient as all children were. It's endearing, really, and never boring. He takes another pile of flowers and hands them to Rocket, who looks more determined than ever.