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Peter’s midway through stowing away his gear when Nebula decides to grace him with her presence.
“You could have asked one of us to do that.”
“I’m fine,” he replies, and it comes off a bit shorter than he intended.
“Get some rest.”
Peter pulls open a cupboard to shove his uniform inside. “I’ll get there. Don’t worry about me.”
There’s a long pause, and Peter feels oddly like he’s being studied.
“You’re leaving.” It’s not a question.
“Did you get the ship back together?” It’s not an answer.
“ Rocket repaired the ship.” Nebula stares him down, unrelenting. “But you’re leaving, aren’t you?”
“Mantis was right,” Peter says, shutting the cupboard with a harsh thud . “I keep running, and I never even thought of going back. I think it’s time that I did.”
“Are you coming back?”
It shouldn’t catch him this off-guard. Nebula had called him family when Gamora had yelled at him, and she’s put herself in danger for his sake about a million times over, but there’s an uncharacteristic fear under her tone, coating it all and twisting her words. It’s like they catch in the air and hang there, suspenseful and with more weight to them than he can pinpoint.
“You guys are family too,” he says slowly, “So you can’t get rid of me forever.”
“Thank God,” Nebula says so quietly that Peter’s pretty sure he wasn’t meant to hear it, and then she kisses him. Maybe it should be weird, kissing the sister of the girl he was (and still somewhat is) in love with for so long, but he melts into it easily. It feels right , like it’s been coming for a long time.
He can’t lie and say he doesn’t see the signs. The moment he complimented Nebula’s eyes, or the times she’d shown genuine concern for him. She’d been the one to lead the charge on rescuing him, not Mantis or Drax, and yes, Groot was with him too, but it counts. So he leans into it and kisses her back and brings a hand up to cup her cheek.
“Hate to say it,” he says when they both pull back, “But Gamora made some good points about you.”
Nebula huffs, but the corners of her mouth twitch upwards. “You’re an idiot.”
“So I’ve been told.” Peter pauses, his gaze roaming over her features, taking it all in. “Does this mean… Anything?”
Nebula smirks, and pulls fully away from him. “You’ll have to come back and see.”
Peter doesn’t fight the scowl that crosses his face. “You motherfucker.”
She laughs. “Come on, you almost died. You should get some rest.”
His scowl deepens. “We’ll talk about this.”
“If you come back,” Nebula taunts as she strides away. Peter watches her go, and shakes his head with a sigh.
“Damnit,” he mutters to himself. “What a fucking type to have.”
Then he trails after her, nursing half-healed injuries and cursing the tiredness clouding his thoughts, not knowing what the future holds.