Archive of Our Own

"I cannot believe this, cannot believe her, the bloody nerve..."

Peter watches in amusement - though he swears that he's witnessing a soldier preparing to storm into battle - as his wife marches up the ramp and inside The Benatar ahead of him, while he pathetically limps behind trying to keep up with her crazy pace.

"Arrogant, shameless, entitled rotten--" Gamora continues grumbling to herself, and throws her key stick onto the rack on the other side of the room with perfect accuracy.

"Jeeheheez, Gahahamora," he says through a laugh, because he can't stay quiet watching this any longer, and leans his crutches against the ship's wall. "Are you seriously gonna be upset like this the rest of the day?"

"...I try to do something nice, surprise you there--"

"I was happy to see you!" He means it! Peter had lit up like a child next in line to see Santa Claus, waving in excitement on the exercise bench from across the gigantic room when he saw Gamora standing in the doorway.

"Think I'll pick you up so you won't need to pay for a ride, we could go to lunch--"

"Aww." He can't help feeling disappointed hearing that. "Where were we gonna eat?" God, he's so damn tired, A'askavarian hot stew sounds super good right now. "That new outdoor place by the bridge over the harbor?"

"Who cares now?" she sighs, and drops her head against the wall looking utterly exhausted and defeated.

Peter doesn't like it - despite finding this rare bit of irrationality from Gamora entertaining, because she's always been friggin' adorable whenever she's jealous - and hobbles over to where she's standing.

"Hey," he says softly, "come on, everything's fine." He hesitates before gently placing a hand on her shoulder from behind. "Seriously, what's really wrong?"

"I don't like the way she was touching you!" she whips her head back around and snaps like it's obvious. And yeah, that much has been obvious from the entire ride back to the parked Benatar, from each comment Gamora hissed as she snatched the Zune out of Peter's hand every time he had tried to play an upbeat Foundations song to cheer her up. "The way her hands were all..."

"She's a physical therapist, 'Mora, she kinda has to touch me," he replies somewhat deadpan.

Probably the wrong move in calming his wife down, but Gamora's sudden anger since she picked him up has been weird, how else is he supposed to react?

His unamused wife gives him a clear 'I'm not stupid, I know that' look. "Not in THAT way!"

"What way exactly?" he asks, trying to keep this casual, not that Gamora is attempting any such demeanor. "She didn't...touch anything she...shouldn't--" Peter tries to say delicately, growing flustered, eyes darting around the ship, squinting for a stray branch or a furry tail hiding behind or rounding the corner, trying to keep an ear out to make sure that they really are home alone (despite how Gamora doesn't seem to give a crap about obnoxious wandering eyes or listening ears).

"Did you not see the way she kept stroking your bicep, and grinning over nothing, and batting her eyelashes?" Gamora continues challenging, stepping closer with each description and punctuating each verb while miming those actions. "Flirting, Peter! She was flirting with you! INTO you! Can you honestly not detect flirting anymore?!" she asks, sounding incredibly stunned at his apparent naivete.

"Sorry that I was a little busy concentrating on being able to walk from one side of the room to the other," he quips, coating his defense in sarcasm.

It's an exaggeration. Simply walking in a straight line without help doesn't require heavy concentration anymore, but his mind still wasn't wandering to the romantic interests of his trainer.

Really, Peter can't help mocking, because this is ridiculous, that he's supposed to watch out for flirts during rehab. He'd assume that Gamora would understand that much, his mental and physical priorities being different these days.

"And of course you couldn't learn to do that again here, inside of our own huge Quadrant training gym on a hero team's spaceship...!"

"WHOA, whoa now!" Peter practically shouts, his eyes likely bulging out in shock, and okay, if she wants to go here then he'll go here! Game on! Play ball! "This is a COMPLETE, reverse Deja Vu from a couple months ago in the hospital!" he reminds her, pointing in her direction as she stomps away from him toward the galley table, loudly and angrily shuffling together the breakfast mess that the rest of their team of barbarians had left scattered for them to clean up. "You know I kept saying, how badly I wanted, insisted that I could just do rehab on my own at home, but YOU insisted to listen to the doctors and do it professionally in a clinic like they ordered. You. INSISTED!" he emphasizes, grateful that the ship is empty for now. "In fact, I believe your exact words, right in front of Rocket and Drax mind you, were...oh yes, 'You're not in your twenties anymore, Peter. You're over forty-five, you'll heal slower, you'll need professional help...' making me feel like an old man..." he trails off, before shaking his head and getting back on track, on the topic of Gamora's hypocrisy. "Point is, you know I'd rather be independent than dragged to a clinic, but I wanted you to have peace of mind, so I'm going along with this tedious physical therapy routine instead of working out and getting my knee back to normal at home. Because it's what you wanted, Gamora!" He stops to catch his breath, feels like he's pleading for her to remember what he knows she already does. "Now suddenly you take all that back?!"

"I didn't know what she looked like," she growls, and turns her head to glare at him, though barley, she's mostly looking down. "I didn't even think it would be a woman..."

"So THAT'S a good reason?" Seriously, who kidnapped his wife and replaced her with a clone, because he's getting a little worried. "That's a good reason to change your whole opinion medically?"

"No, but..." She sighs and looks embarrassed, admitting his point without words, before shooting her head back in his direction. "Why didn't YOU tell me about this?"

"Tell you what? I swear I wasn't keeping secrets, 'Mora," Peter tells her the truth in desperation. When was he put on trial here?

"She's young and pretty! Do you even notice?" It sounds so silly, but her voice really does sound pained, almost equally desperate as his own.

"I notice, I guess..." Inside he's cringing; probably bad word choice. "But I don't think about it much. You want me to notice that?" he jokes a little, trying to keep his tone steady. Gamora only glares. "I just see her as a professional. I thought you'd find that very unsexist of me," he says with a proud shrug and a smile that's maybe a bit too cheeky right now.

It doesn't help him. "She wasn't acting professional, she was flirting, you never mentioned that."

"Gamora," he sighs, trying to sound more serious, even though he's been completely honest. "Even if that's true," Peter says, choosing his words carefully, "and I'm dense and didn't see it, nothing happened, and I don't want anyone except you. Don't you trust that?"

This whole dumb argument happened so fast, feels so random and sudden, and Peter's usually a pro at calming Gamora down, but he's also not used to her acting this way, this upset and irrational over something so silly and small.

She's usually the one breaking up stupid arguments between himself and Rocket, calling them out on being foolish and immature.

Gamora's entire mood switch and outrage minutes before leaving the clinic had fully taken him by surprise. It was cute during the ride once he'd realized her jealousy, but now that it's continuing...

He knows that she has her jealous moments, that when Gamora becomes possessive she's a force Peter would only wish upon his worst enemies. She never likes it whenever others flirt with him, and always makes that crystal clear to the dubbed miscreant in question - usually with only a look and an intentionally visible grip on her sword - but she typically doesn't take it out on him, never treats the situation like Peter's been hiding a dirty secret behind her back, and he's now getting a little disturbed by what she might implying...

I mean, Gamora has to trust him, must know that nothing's going on...right? That none of this is a big deal?

All he'd wanted to do after physical therapy was to get back to their clunky, cramped flying saucer of a home, collapse onto their bed, and relax with Gamora.

He's so lost in his own thoughts he almost misses her answer, "Of course I do, I know...." without a hint of doubt in her tone, and okay, that's good, that's a relief. They're getting somewhere.

"So why does any of this matter?" he argues. "Who cares what she or anybody else wants or does?"

It doesn't fully extinguish his wife's fire though, because she deflects again. "You...you don't," she begins sputtering and sighs. "You don't get it."

"What don't I--?"

"Peter, you're...attractive!" she eventually spits out like it burns her mouth, and he's...not sure quite how to respond to it.

"Well..."

"No!" she quickly stops him, her index finger inches from his nose. "It's not a joke, or flattery, or something awkward to admit anymore, Peter," she continues before he can interrupt with another word. He backs away while trying to hide a smirk, letting her get it out and holding his arms up in surrender, then gripping a dented pipe in the ship's wall to keep from falling. He's getting more exhausted than while he was exercising his busted joint. "We've been together well over a decade, and we both know that you're good-looking, okay? You ARE conventionally, extremely attractive! You simply are, to most people, it is not a personal, secret opinion anymore that I'm embarrassed to state out loud, it's just a fact!"

"...okay," he finally squeaks, hoping that's an acceptable answer. "Thank you?" he still jokes with a wince, and fortunately it doesn't seem to make his wife any angrier.

This new outburst is certainly interesting, considering Gamora was joining in with Rocket and Drax last week around the dinner table, teasing Peter over the FEW, microscopic gray hairs starting to appear at his temples.

"So...?"

"SO you don't believe she tried to get assigned to you?"

"I...I dunno..." Is that where this was going? "I never...considered--"

"Ugh, you can be so clueless. I thought you had 'street smarts'--"

"Did she SAY something, while I was cooling down?" he asks, feeling concerned and fully ready to defend Gamora if this woman was insulting his badass wife during some private confrontation.

"She didn't NEED to! It's clear, her intentions! 'Helping the handsome, heroic, muscular Star-Lord heal an injury'..."

"How many celebrity gossip articles do you rehehead?" This is getting amusing again. He knows that Gamora cares about their public image, but really...

"...alone inside of a huge, private, steaming hot gym..."

"Steaming?" he echoes with a smirk.

"It was like a sauna in there, Peter! How could you stand it for two hours in sweat clothes?!" she weirdly changes the subject to ask the question, throwing her hands in the air.

"There is a sauna in the next room," he informs her. "It's a rehab clinic, you know." He hears himself using a deadpan tone again without realizing it. "And I don't exactly look out for that stuff anymore, women flirting, I have you..."

"Oh, don't try to get out of this by being sweet," she interrupts and turns around, pretending to look through cabinets where he knows that behind the small metal doors she's grinding her teeth.

"It's true, I don't!" It's a lot less fun over time; definitely more boring than anything in his domestic, 'normal' spaceship family. "Alright, maybe during that long stretch when you first walked in she might have grabbed my shoulder for balance, so I wouldn't fall on my ass. It is her job. I think you might be reading too much into it," he tries to say in a gentler tone. "This isn't like you, 'Mora. Where's this coming from? Why today are you so...?"

"Fine, if you did not notice, then you think I'm being insane..."

"No, I don't think you're crazy, but..." But she could probably land the role of a nut-job character in a movie if she auditioned tonight.

Instead of voicing that quip he tries his earlier tactic again. She turns around from the empty cabinet - which he can tell that she's tempted to slam shut but doesn't want to break the hinge - as she yanks a clip out of her hair, glaring at the floor where she'd dropped a bottle of juice. Peter takes advantage of the fact that she isn't still yelling - or ditching him for a punching bag.

He meets her so they're chest-to-chest and squeezes her shoulder, lifts her chin, and looks his wife straight in the eyes. "Do you think I would EVER have an affair?"

"NO!"

The emphasis - the near shock and offense in her voice at such an idea - is a good sign and makes him feel a touch better. She doesn't even need to think about it. Cool. "Do you think I would ever flirt back?" he follows-up a bit slower, both really curious and trying to cover all bases.

Gamora seems visibly less confident on that one, her head turned away and shrugging sadly, before eventually whispering, "No..."

It stings a little; it's been years since he's dropped that habit, responding on instinct with flirtatious lines or glances to any random women who initiate such interest in public, breaking out of that shitty quirk not long after he and Gamora first got together.

After everything on Ego, Peter was not going to keep pissing off Gamora and risk losing her - or the other Guardians - when he had somehow gotten so lucky.

Yeah, there were dumb moments where he'd forgotten - forsaking old habits isn't the top skill listed on Star-Lord's resume - but it has been a long time, and Gamora has to know those rare screw-ups meant nothing.

He stows away the confidence bust - and the hurt bubbling inside his gut - that came from her hesitant answer. He can focus on that later. She'd still answered a clear 'No' for both. "Then this is all irrelevant, right?"

"Yes, but..." she sighs again and leans against the wall. It truly is a gift that they have the ship to themselves, that their kooky family must still be negotiating at their latest security installment meeting - or deciding to stay out for drinks far too early in the afternoon, blaming planet-hopping jetlag for their irresponsible timing.

Even if Gamora and Peter had gone to their bedroom quarters for this argument, they live with some of the nosiest creatures to ever gain sentience. Rocket would no doubt be recording their private conversation for future embarrassment or blackmail, playing up the situation as a much bigger deal than it is, even though Peter and Gamora both know that he doesn't wish their marriage any serious trouble.

"It's just so...disrespectful," she spits out, and Peter doesn't reply yet, just listens. "She knows you're married. She must know that you're married, yet she was so brazen! No boundaries, no respect--"

"Okay, that's fair."

Gamora looks surprised at his agreement. "It is?" she asks, and damn, that's adorable.

"Yeah, I mean, that would hurt," he can't help but admit. Truthfully, Peter would feel more than hurt in her shoes, if he'd walked into something that apparently obvious. He'd be pissed. "I wouldn't like seeing that, at all, and...thinking about it again...maybe you're right," he finally says out loud, replaying the day's events - and past few rehab sessions - through his head like a movie trailer. "She was kinda...linger...y and slow-talking..." Not to mention the way she keeps raving about his 'natural healing ability'. Which yeah, he technically does have, celestial genes and all, but from her tone and exaggerated fascination, she possibly wasn't gushing for purely scientific reasons.

Not to mention the way she'd deflated and looked miffed the second Gamora walked through the door, the other woman's mood darkening, throwing him a towel and rolling her eyes, making an excuse to walk away before he'd finished his last exercise set. He'd sorta been too physically exhausted at the time to process it.

"I honestly didn't see it before, but you may be onto something," he tells Gamora, and moves some hair off her cheek while she looks at him carefully. "Maybe she was kinda into me and flirting a bit."

"AHH-HAA!"

"No 'AH-HA!' That doesn't change anything!" he snaps back, not letting his moment of understanding get somehow twisted around. "I just said that it wasn't all in your head! But nothing happened, I didn't DO anything, because I don't wanna BE with anyone else!"

"Even with her long, wavy, dark red hair, and flawless, creamy limestone skin--?"

"Whoa." Her words practically knock Peter to the floor, and he feels sick to his stomach at the implication. At the realization that this isn't silly, stubborn banter anymore. Not if her last sentence wasn't an embellishment. Not if Gamora is genuinely worried, and he's putting a stop to that bullshit fear and insecurity right now.

Peter grips both of her shoulders, swaying a little without the crutches, but he couldn't care less now. "Gamora. YOU are a knock-out. Beautiful," he says with as much emphasis as he can muster. "You talk about my looks being tempting to her, but you're still gorgeous. As gorgeous as when we first met," he says softer with full conviction. Gamora crinkles her nose, touched but humble, never great at taking compliments about her appearance, even though Peter has probably given her thousands of them in the past decade, and he will continue calling her drop-dead gorgeous until the day he kicks the bucket. "Even if I wasn't madly in love with you, if I was a shallow dick only caring about looks, why would I EVER want to let YOU go?" he makes what he hopes is an indisputable point. He can't image finding someone hotter than Gamora, no matter how young or forward the woman in question happens to be.

She stays silent, her expression fairly neutral and curious. "And even if we were having problems," he continues, "if our relationship was rocky, and I wasn't happy, do you really believe I would ever cheat on you? Could forgive myself for hurting you that much after everything? Break the trust I've spent so long building, ruin what I've got with this whole family?"

"...it's been over ten years," she whispers, "...you could get bored."

"I'm not," he laughs out gently and tucks some strands of lovely, light pink hair behind her ear. This time she lets him and attempts a smile.

Gamora doesn't even sound like she believes her own words anymore, seems to be conceding everything from his speech, yet there's a serious insecurity inside of her eyes that Peter wishes to the stars he knew how to decimate. "How could I ever be bored here? With you?" It's such a ridiculous concept. He's gotta have the least boring life in the galaxy, less boring than his life has ever been, and he was raised by space pirates, used to sleep in the basement of a Contraxian meat and fish tavern for entire summers to hide out from pursuers of stolen ugly rags.

And if she means in the romance or bedroom department, Gamora has never been the type to allow him a significant period of boredom, even when she threatens it.

"No one puts up with me like you do, takes care of me like you do," he tells her softly, pouring his heart out to the only woman he ever craves to take care of him. "And it's not even your job," he adds, quirking a genuine smile.

Gamora doesn't nod, but he can tell from her poise that she's coming around, and her eyes move down to his knee. "How is it feeling?"

"Alright," he shrugs and answers honestly, grateful for the subject change. "A lil' better, on the mend. Kinda sore, but that's normal after a work-out," he explains, his voice casual. "She said to ice it at home." At this he pauses, then can't resist teasing again. "Do you think that was sexual code for something?"

Gamora rolls her eyes, but it's her usual eye-roll whenever he makes a frustrating comment to get under her skin, nothing like her serious outrage from earlier. "Sit. Prop it up," she instructs him and walks to their mini-refrigerator. Peter obeys her command, finding the nearest rusty chair and dragging it out to assault their eardrums by scraping against their ship's metal floor, dropping himself dramatically into the seat and using both his arms to lift his bad leg onto the nearest stool across from him.

He watches Gamora pull an ice pack from the freezer and wring out the water over the sink, smiling to himself at the way she's changed attitudes on a dime, the irritation slipping away from her face as she concentrates on the simple, mundane task.

The silence is so welcome, so damn nice, that Peter hates to break it, but in the moment finds himself saying, "I'm sorry about all this, by the way."

Gamora sighs again, though mostly sounding tired as she shuts the fridge door, her back still turned toward him. "It is not your fault she was flirting..."

"Not that," he corrects her. "I meant...the knee in general."

At this she pauses, stiffens. "What?" she says, head over her shoulder to look at him in confusion.

"Bein' down for the count and outta commission the past few months. I'm sorry," he repeats. He's never told her how crappy he's felt for his injury being such an inconvenience to Gamora, to the whole crew. "I know it's a pain in the ass, for the team, for you--"

"Peter," she stops him and turns around completely. He's confused and taken aback by the firm, incredulous statement of his name, and at the way that Gamora looks stunned, almost like she's ready to cry.

Her expression hardly changes while she sits down in the chair across from him and places the ice pack gently over his weak knee. She takes a deep breath and a long exhale, clearly trying to reign in her emotions and think about what she's going to say next, and Peter may still be confused, but he knows that's his cue to shut up.

"Peter," she begins slowly, looking straight into his eyes, the most serious Gamora has acted in a while, a clear message for him to pay attention and not misunderstand. "When I first received the call informing me of the crash, th-that your pod's emergency alarm had gone off, and that the authorities had found your unconscious body trapped inside the wreckage on an empty, dark road, needing to dig you out and race to the hospital, my...my mind went to...just dozens of...worst-case scenarios," she explains, obviously sugar-coating that description. "I...I feared that you would fall into a coma, for a long time. Or-or b-be permanently brain-damaged, or...g-gone," she confesses after a hard swallow, closing her eyes and struggling to expand on that. Peter feels a strong realization wash over him, and he wants to jump in and reply, but he knows she's not finished. "Dead on impact, or lost during the transport, un-unable to be saved in the ambulance, o-or died in the hospital before we even r-reached..." she stammers and rushes out far too fast, her body beginning to shake, and on instinct Peter leans forward and takes both of her hands to calm her down, to ground her, to encourage her to take her time, wordlessly reminding her that he's fine, that they're both okay.

It seems to work - she gives him a grateful smile and clears her throat of the tears that he knows are burning through her eyes at the memories. He gives a light smile back and squeezes her hand. This clearly isn't easy for her to talk about, or forget.

He'd never realized how much that day had disturbed her, but all at once a hazy image, distant and blurry, comes flashing back into his memory - Gamora hunched over one of the small chairs in the corner of the large private hospital room, while Peter was still too groggy and confused and barely able to crack his eyes open.

Her whole body was trembling, her eyes leaking tears as she leaned heavily on Mantis for support, who was whispering reassurances into Gamora's ear that, 'Peter is okay, they said he will be fine, it's alright' when they both thought that he was still out cold and couldn't hear them.

It's haunting now that he remembers it with a clear head, and god, he feels like such an ignorant jackass.

Rocket had even informed Peter that he had needed to be the one to fly them all to the hospital, because Gamora was just too shaken up to drive in her panic.

HOW in the name of Bowie had her own husband not put the pieces together to discover how much this impacted her?

Gamora eventually finds her voice again and continues, and Peter is sent back to the present. "Once we all finally arrived at the emergency room and were told that you had been rushed into surgery, I was so relieved to learn that it was only for your knee. BEYOND relieved, Peter," she emphasizes, and ohh. Right. Now he gets it. "They could have told me with one-hundred-percent medical certainty that you would never walk again," Gamora elaborates with a strong passion, "that both of your legs would require amputation, and I still would have cried the same tears of joy that you were going to survive."

Peter looks down, surprised that he doesn't feel a guttural instinct to cringe and gag at the image of such a gruesome medical scenario.

Instead he feels shame - shame that he hadn't considered Gamora's fears, that he had even begun to fancy the idea that she was frustrated by his slow recovery time, when of course he should know that she's just grateful he's alive.

It wasn't a small accident. The crash was bad; he was really lucky.

"Not that I want that fate for you," she speaks up and clarifies firmly. As if she needs to. He's not enough of an idiot to think that Gamora would have been celebrating his possible paralysis or amputation. "Of course it would be devastating, but in comparison...you know what I mean."

"I do," he replies softly.

In the case of him ever losing his ability to walk, or permanently losing a limb, it would suck, but they would adjust and adapt, the same way Peter's been adapting to whatever unpredictable shit the universe has thrown at him since he was eight-years-old.

Really, that kind of hypothetical physical change following an accident would be pretty normal, compared to some other past changes and life-altering events.

Death, on the other hand, he probably would not be lucky enough to return from twice.

"And before I blacked out after the crash, all I could feel was grateful that you weren't in that pod with me," Peter confesses in return. Before wincing and echoing her, "You know what I mean."

"I do," she echoes.

It sounds so much like their wedding vows, although this conversation is a lot less fun.

A part of him finally realizes how much emotional turmoil they went through - Gamora and the entire team, the entire family - on that shitty day, how terrified they all must have felt before Peter had even woken up from surgery.

So much fear and trauma, that they never really talked about until today.

But maybe that's okay.

"I'm still sorry about the accident," he says anyway. "Scaring you, all the aftermath junk--"

"The crash was not your fault," she says simply.

"I should be as careful as possible, all the time," he tries to counter, but Gamora looks down and shakes her head.

"No, the fog was terribly thick. Some things are not preventable."

"Still..."

"Smashing up your knee and being unable to fight on jobs for a few months is such a small price to pay, for all of us," she states her main point that Peter had figured out by now, but it does feel good to hear it. "No matter what Rocket jokes, we are all so happy we didn't lose you."

He nods and squeezes her fingers again in understanding. "Well, I'm sorry I didn't take it well when I fully woke up and learned I couldn't walk on it for a while," he tells her, because if they're staying on this topic, knowing how panicked Gamora had been for his life, Peter also realizes how screwed up his reactions and behavior at the time truly were, and he's not proud of it.

In retrospect, he's embarrassed by the way he'd pouting and grumbled like a child in that hospital bed. "Compared to what you feared, that was really immature for me to treat this like the end of the world." He could've been killed; the ship pod was totaled. Gamora went through Hell for hours before he'd woken up, and yet Peter had kept bitching, 'Fuck, well that's just great news! This'll be fun! Yippee! Just what I need!' for days over something comparatively minor and temporary. He should've acted so much more grateful like a d'asted adult, drank some goddamn perspective juice.

Granted, his wife was also sorta making a mountain out of a molehill about this flirtatious trainer situation, compared to the important things in their lives, but now Peter is almost happy to be on the receiving end of her rage in that department. Happy if it was temporarily taking her mind off of that traumatic incident from two months ago.

"It's okay," she replies. "I know it is frustrating. This does suck for you," Gamora says in her wonderfully warm and understanding tone that Peter has never felt like he deserves, and gently rubs his knee brace. "But you're home now, and things are getting back to...semi-normal. That's all that matters."

"Guess I'm able to fuck up so bad even the galaxy's best meds aren't instant," he jokes to lighten the mood, giving a little smirk and a shrug like a lovable sitcom dolt. "I mean, I could hardly dance for a week, what is that about?"

She doesn't smile back, but clearly isn't angry anymore. She silently picks up her chair to place next to his and moves her body closer, wrapping an arm around his waist, and rests her head on his shoulder. Peter just watches her as she stares straight ahead.

"I love you..." she states, in a faraway voice, relaxing and curling closer against his middle, and Peter knows that she's contemplating what would have happened - what she would've done - if she had really lost him. He knows that there's so much else she's not saying, can't bring herself to say out loud right now.

He doesn't mind, just kisses the top of her hair and reciprocates her words in a whisper, taking advantage of this rare, peaceful silence after such a heavy exchange - after the entire crap storm this year - feeling amazed and grateful that this moment is possible, that they're both still alive in a crazy, dangerous universe.

It lasts that way for several minutes, Peter draping his arm around Gamora's shoulder, the only sounds in the room the churning of the ship's engine, the dripping pipes in the wall, and their combined breathing inside the thankfully empty ship, until Peter decides to softly hum a few bars of Build Me Up, Buttercup, to make up for Gamora preventing him from playing the chorus earlier during the pod ride home.

He notices her eyes have closed, and she looks much calmer, but still saddened, overwhelmed and overcome by the great 'What-Could-Have-Been's' invading her mind. Peter finally trails off humming and speaks up.

"So what are we gonna do about this?"

Gamora opens her eyes, not moving her head to look up at him. "About what?" she asks, or more croaks, voice cracking a little and her tone almost bored, mindless, like nothing else matters anymore besides the fact that he's okay.

It makes him want to drop the subject again - now doesn't quite feel like the best time - but he wants this stupid problem over and fixed before anyone else comes home, or either of them falls asleep. "Saldana," he says, and after a beat of Gamora not responding - not seeming to know what he means with her blinking stare - Peter clarifies. "Dr. Hendry."

She scowls at the reminder, or maybe at the knowledge that he and the trainer are on a first-name basis. She turns her head and drops her eyes to the floor, expression and voice a mixture of irritated, ashamed, and confused. "Why do we need to figure something out...?"

"Because she makes you uncomfortable and I hate that," he interrupts her and explains, ignoring Gamora grumbling, 'and she's not a doctor...' under her breath. "I don't wanna be a total dick and ignore your feelings." Continuing to work with someone who makes Gamora this upset is not in the cards.

Even if his normally badass wife is being irrational, even if Peter would never in a billion centuries do anything in response to the other woman's advances, it's not fair to pretend it doesn't matter and tell Gamora to 'get over it', given how much she's put up with his whining antics over the years (and in recent months...okay, almost every day).

Peter knows that if he was the one feeling this level of insecure and jealous, Gamora may mock him for being ridiculous, but she would also respect the way he felt and attempt to negotiate, and she deserves the same understanding from him.

Beside him Gamora shrugs, as if to say that she's happy he cares enough to mention it, but isn't going to demand a change. She's doing a poor job of hiding her annoyance, gritting her teeth, like she's afraid that if she starts talking about this topic again that she won't be able to stop herself from rambling all night.

Peter doesn't mind, as long as they come up with some type of answer, and grips her shoulder as she continues to look down at their boots. "Really. Do you want me to switch to someone else?"

After a moment she looks back up, attempting to keep her face neutral and prepare her tone to be the same, but it still comes out quiet and troubled. "Do you like her?" she asks with a concerned sadness in her eyes.

"NOT like that!" he emphasizes as strongly as possible.

"Do you like working with her?" she then asks, not doubting his previous statement for a second and trying to be fair, taking his comfort into consideration. Peter appreciates it, even though he's never doubted how much Gamora cares about him throughout this annoying knee recovery.

In answer to her question he shrugs. "It's okay, I guess," he says, choosing his words with more caution than he picks his moves on the battlefield. "She's fine, friendly..." Too friendly. "Competent, but it's nothing someone else couldn't do, or I can't handle myself." It's all the truth. She's fine, but she's not some award-winning Terran orthopedic specialist. There's nothing unique about her training style that's necessary for him to recuperate safely and on schedule. "I've got no attachment; today was only our third appointment."

Gamora quits trying to hide her clenched teeth and resumes her same bitter and angry tone from their earlier squabble, but this time Peter can tell that it's not directed at him, while she tries and fails to rant under her breath, instead grumbling in her normal volume speaking voice. "I cannot BELIEVE I didn't know this was going on until now! What she looks like and how she's been acting--!"

Peter masks any sign of amusement from his face, like he would during any life-or-death negotiation, and cups his wife's cheek, moving her face back around to look at him and interrupts her ranting. "Do you want me to ask for a male therapist? Or try a solo exercise program?" he asks firmly, getting them back to the point and the main question at hand.

She bites her lip and looks tempted, curious, intrigued. "Could you do that?"

"I don't see why not." He's being honest. He's been taking care of his own injuries for years, long before meeting the team, and long after switching from outlaw to intergalactic hero.

Peter had meant it when he said that he'd only agreed to a trainer-guided and monitored rehab program to make Gamora comfortable. And while he's gotten into a decent routine at the clinic, he's got no problem dropping his time at that place to work out in his own ship's gym, even if it does wind up taking a tiny bit longer to build back his strength and movement after his knee was basically destroyed, since he's no longer the same spring chicken.

(And their spacecraft gym doesn't have a pool. He does enjoy that clinic's pool. Could they afford a pool? The Guardians need a pool, he's just decided.)

He definitely misses listening to his own music at home while working out. Peter has always felt better motivated and stimulated whenever he exercises to the proper beat, instead of the boring silence of the rehab center, which frankly, for a place designed to help people regain their natural mobility and liveliness, kinda makes him wanna sleep for the next several weeks.

And if Gamora still feels more comfortable with him being helped and supervised by a licensed trainer, well, he's Star-Lord, and is pretty confident in his ability to pull a few strings at the hospital to switch physical therapists, preferably to someone a little older and with a more mature, professional vibe, with less flirtatious winks and wandering hands, and who wouldn't be wasting valuable, precious work-out time glaring daggers at his wife.

"I wouldn't have to go completely solo at home," he suggests. "I do have some of the most kickass warriors on this very ship who I'm sure could help whip me back into shape," he jokes, although on the inside cringes a little at the idea of putting Drax in charge of his recovery (over a decade on the team together fighting criminals, Drax still fails to grasp that Peter's physiology is slightly more fragile than his own). "It would be an honor to have the most gorgeous and sexy warrior in the universe aid in my healing," he says, purposefully flirtatious, and Gamora's blush and smirk are pure genuine.

"Mmmm," she replies, sitting up straighter and flipping her hair out of her face. "That doesn't sound like a terrible idea, Star-Lord."

And it does sound like an awesome, perfect solution on the surface - Gamora is incredibly skilled, and it's an opportunity for them to spend time alone together - but then Peter gets mentally doused with a bucket of reality goop, and realizes that 'Mora probably wouldn't be the most...unbiased trainer, and he would end up with the opposite problem than he would have with Drax.

It would surprise strangers to learn, but Gamora never likes physically pushing Peter passed his assumed limits, never wanting to see him in pain or risk him getting hurt, always afraid of being too tough on him whenever they're training, which is why they rarely spar together one-on-one in recent years.

She may have been harder on him when they first met, but since getting together, and the number of captures and serious injuries and appointments with death he's narrowly escaped, she strongly holds back from her natural drill sergeant instinct whenever it comes to Peter in the gym - even if pushing himself is actually what he needs most, which is exactly the case with his knee this year.

He knows that Gamora indulging him the second he wants to call it quits early - or give up on a daily goal - would set him way back. He does need an extra ('sensible and safe, Drax!') push to fully recover, and he's already making decent progress, and now hopes that Gamora doesn't actually suggest taking on the role of his new primary rehab coach.

Helping or advising with exercises at home is one thing, but pretending to be her husband's qualified physical therapist, when she would probably spend seventy-five percent of the time coddling and spoiling him, as good and fun as that sounds, is an idea that should be squashed out right now.

"No." Peter looks up to see Gamora shaking her head. "I can start helping when you come home, but...I can't get my own way whenever I want."

He raises his brows, happy that she's dropped the idea of taking over his rehab - gee, that was fast and easy - but surprised by the second half of her sentence.

After all of Gamora's fury today, she can't possibly be changing her mind about him ditching Saldana?

"Okay, yeah, maybe just helping with homework exercises before bed would suffice," Peter says. "You've got enough on your plate without dragging my ass around the gym for hours every afternoon. And Drax helping would pro'lly put me back into the hospital," he jokes. "But we're still gonna fire Hendry, don't worry," he reassures her, already preparing his speech for whenever he returns to the building. "It'll be easy. The clinic will comply. It's super screwed up for her to disrespect the fact that I'm--that we're married, especially on Xandar that you helped save--"

"No," she interrupts him and is shaking her head more forcefully this time. She exhales and takes a deep breath before repeating, "I...I cannot get my way every time--"

"Psshh, Gamora, you don't." The very idea is ridiculous - Gamora gives so much and rarely takes anything in return, even the things he knows she craves deep down. "You don't get whatever you want, you're not spoiled, you have a right to be upset." Sure, he didn't love her anger being targeted at him today, and he'd felt worried about her sudden insecurity, and finds her jealousy to be super adorable, but none of that means it wasn't justified. "Believe me, I get it--"

"No, I am serious, Peter, I...I should learn how to deal with this," she says after another long exhale. "It...this will not be the only instance in which a woman in a...partial professional role," Gamora spits the words like acid, forcing herself to continue, "crosses boundaries and flirts with you," she admits. "And I will not be able to get my own way every single time in the future. That is not realistic." She still sounds saddened and vulnerable, but the most mature and like herself Peter's heard all day. "Nor should I automatically get my way, even if I realistically could." Peter is ready to object, but Gamora doesn't let him. "I need to know how to handle this type of situation without exploding," she says with determination, and Peter can tell she's not just saying this for him, in an attempt to save him stress in firing his current and adjusting to a new trainer.

She's making it a personal goal, because after all these years, Gamora is still always trying to better herself, despite existing as a living miracle and being an amazing Co-Captain, friend, and wife.

So Peter nods along. "Are you sure?" he still asks, because this is a strong one-eighty from Gamora's earlier seething passion against this woman, after that long string of choice words during the entire pod trip home that had almost made Peter blush. "It's not like her attitude and behavior were all made up in your head. I was wrong, she's pretty blatant, and after all the shit with the crash, and how much we've helped Xandar, and the amount of business we've given that hospital, she could be swapped out in a cinch, with someone equally or more qualified who won't keep making rude passes," Peter reminds Gamora, maybe tempting her a little, because now even he was looking forward to seeing the person who upset his wife so much getting kicked off the job.

"If she does not bother you then there is no good reason to demand a replacement or change anything."

Peter doesn't really agree; he's definitely bothered by how much she upsets Gamora, and he can tell these mature statements are killing her inside.

But if Gamora's determined to accept her, Peter knows from experience there's not much he or anybody can do once she's set her mind to something.

"Well alright," he says, hoping this isn't some kinda trap, because he's still a little dizzy, and Gamora has been friggin' unpredictable today. "If you're positive. There's not gonna be that many more sessions anyway--"

"Do not think for one minute that this means that I love the way her hands were all over you!" she suddenly insists, poking her finger directly at his chest and snapping back into the same anger mode from earlier, and Peter holds back a laugh, feeling a bit better now that Gamora's being open and honest again. "Trust me, I hate the idea of sitting by and doing nothing while you're lying on your back and moving and bending your legs in the air, as she's giggling and stroking--"

"Okahahay, okay!" he does laugh this time, and takes her hands to calm her back down. He keeps hold of her wrists and drops their entwined hands into her lap. "You don't have to be happy about it," he tells her. "We don't have to do nothing." He doesn't love the idea of giving up and ignoring this either. That is not the Guardians Way, and has never been the Star-Lord Way, or Gamora's Way. "We can compromise."

She doesn't disagree, just listens and shrugs. "How?" she asks in a small voice that, while it may be cute, really doesn't suit Gamora.

"Well," he starts, mostly thinking out loud. "Hmmm...how about...maaaaayyybeee...next week, instead of outright firing her, The Deadliest Woman in the Galaxy cooouuuld...kindly give me a ride..." Gamora smiles at the way he's purposely drawing this out, "and before leaving, step into the hallway and...remind her that Star-Lord is happily taken," he suggests with a grin.

His devious wife looks intrigued at the idea. "Would that bother you?" she asks carefully, but Peter can already see the thrill in her eyes.

"Nah!" he says with a wave of his hand. "It'd be fun to watch." As long as his trainer doesn't take it out on him in a painful way later. "And an almost guaranteed problem-solver."

Gamora's grin now matches his own, no longer hiding her anticipation and future pleasure in setting the record straight to any soul who dares to attempt interfering with their relationship. "Then I think that is a good compromise," she simply states with a proud, grateful nod and a knowing smirk.

"Good," Peter replies with a wink. "Just don't stab any eyes out." That's not entirely a joke. They really can't afford that kinda lawsuit.

She gives a half-hearted laugh and pulls away a bit, sitting up straight and still facing him, looking seriously ashamed again.

"I am sorry," she sighs. "I have been so silly. I do trust you, Peter, and you should only be focused on getting better," she says, and pats his jeans above his injured knee. "Compared to your health, this is not dire."

"Yeah, but you're right that it's not appropriate," he admits. "And I'd be a massive hypocrite and a complete douche to pretend that I'd be any less crazy if the roles were reversed." Peter never handles anything close to those situations well, and knows that he would react the same way - probably far worse - if some hot younger guy was around Gamora for hours during multiple work-out sessions, drooling over her body and making up any excuse to touch her, taking advantage of a private and professional situation, even though Peter fully trusts her too. Gamora's faithfulness and loyalty knows no limits, but it wouldn't make watching or thinking about the circumstances and daily dynamic much easier to stomach. "And you are still so cute when you're jealous," he teases, can't help reminding her one final time, because god, he loves and respects her, admires and empathizes here, and is doing his best to take her feelings seriously, but it's so stinkin' adorable.

He half-expects her to huff and become indignant over that repeated statement, to march out of the room, steal his crutches, and not show herself for the rest of the day, for Peter not to see her face again until the ice pack has melted and soaked through his pants.

But Gamora doesn't even bother looking flustered or annoyed. She only sighs again. "It's..." She shows a look of strong vulnerability, pain, and fear that Peter never realized is still there, never realized she could still be insecure about their relationship, not know how special she is to him after all this time.

Finally she looks up at him and confesses, "I just hate seeing you with anyone else."

Peter smiles and leans forward, gripping her hands tighter and looking right into her eyes. "You'll never have to," he reassures, and kisses her wedding ring in a cheesy move, admiring one of her silver scars on her perfect face. "As long as we're both alive, I'm stubbornly sticking around with you forever."

Gamora immediately gets an intense, special sparkle in her eyes, and gives him a gentle, gradual smile as though she is the luckiest person in the galaxy instead of the other way around.

It's a look that communicates that Peter is everything to her, like his simple sentence - that very fact and reassurance - is enough to help her battle through anything, enough to keep her going forever.

She leans forward to meet him in a slow kiss, long and deep and with all of the passion and gratitude, contentment and harmony that she radiates and brings to his life, and that makes Peter so bloody fucking thankful and satisfied every goddamn day of his life.

Really, how could Star-Lord ever want anybody else, when he has the most beautiful, amazing woman in the universe?

"Ummm..." he says after their lips eventually break apart. "Just to be clear, when you talk to her, you won't actually tell her that I'm over forty-five, right?"

"Oh my GOD, Peter!"

It's a joke! It's in his medical file, she knows his age, unfortunately!

"What the HELL--?!"

"Kidding! I'm just joking, I swear! Ow! Wait, I'm sorry!"

"How could you say that, why does it matter?!"

"I'm kidding, kiddingkiddingkidding, it DOESN'T matter, that's not funny! Ow! Bad joke, I'm sorry! Don't pull on my hair, Gamora, ouch! I'm so sorry!"

"I cannot believe you would dare to say--"

"Come on, no assault, it was a-joke! Hey, careful, my knee!"

"Fine then."

"Nono, waitnohoho, shit, don't, not there! NOHOHO, wait, haha haha, don't tihihickle either, haha! I get it, HAHA, lego'a my dahahamn ribs, I'm SORRY!"

"Arms up, Star-Lord!"

"NOHOHO!!! Stahahap, 'Mmmora! I'm sorry, plehehehehease, zaa dumb joke, I love you!"

"Sure."

"I doooohaha, please, someone'll haha come home and see! Noho!!" They have a deal about preventing that type of humiliation, dammit! "HEHE! HAHA! I'll pihihiiiis all'overtheseat, 'Mora! I'LL PISS AHAHAHALLOVER!!!"

"GOOD!"

Pfft, like she means that. Like Gamora wants THAT mess to clean up.

"I'LLFALLONTHEFLOOR!!! Hahaha, not the PITS, it's tortue!!! Gahaha! I'M SORRY!!!"

On the plus side, if Peter does plummet three feet to the hard, metal ground and land on his ass - or his semi-protected knee - he knows that Gamora will feel so bad and resume apologizing and coddling over this all night.

Maybe he should suck it up and accept the abuse for those results.