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Well. It was all over now. Rocket was alive, they defeated his creator and here they were on the Milano. Nebula was piloting which was odd. Where was Peter?
Rocket walked down the halls to the sleeping quarters. He was possibly there. Stopping in his tracks, he quickly quieted his breaths. Crying? He heard crying coming from Quill's room. Cursing he peaked in through the crack of the door. His heart dropped into his stomach when he saw the knife in Quill's hand that he was fiddling with. His stomach churned as he braced himself.
Walking in as calmy as and loudly as he could, Rocket approached him. As planned Peter became aware of the Raccoon's presence.
The knife was now clutched in a single shaking hand.
"Petey, please hand me the knife." Rocket said softly. Surprisingly he knew what he was doing. But of course Quill caught on and got defensive.
You see, the Guardians were well aware of Peter's most effective safe coping mechanism. Ever since Gamora...well died, came back not remembering and left, Peter hasn't exactly regressed.
"Rocket stop I'm fine." His voice was shaky. On edge. He clearly wasn't fine. Teetering on the edge of breaking, if you must.
"Petey. What's wrong? What's going through that head of yours?" Rocket now had both paws on Quill's trembling hand, slowly taking the knife from him and pocketing it.
"I-i-" Peter's voice cracked. Fresh tears made their way down his cheeks. "You almost...died and that-that was all my fault." He hiccuped.
The Racoon's eyes widened slightly. He could tell a spiral was well on it's way. He needed to take more action.
"Petey, oh Petey. None of that was you're fault. It's okay buddy I promise. It was bound to happen, they were after me I promise you're okay." Rocket tried, wiping away those few tears. He was making his way onto the man's lap. He flicked his tail nervously, trying to get any indication of a nearing drop. Praying for a drop.
The captain's lip wobbled.
Sign one. It was working.
Rocket cupped his face gently. "You're okay bud I promise, I'm not mad at you at all. Everything's fine, see? I'm okay now." He reassured.
Well, that got the poor man to break. Body wracking sobs overcame Peter as his shaky hands reached for the Raccoon's small frame.
Rocket let himself be embraced. He felt hot tears wet the fur on his head as he was hugged tightly by the now regressed man. "Let it out Petey, it's okay." Rocket dug in one of his pockets- a special one. Well he always kept a pacifier on him for Quill. It was just a habit after the whole situation with his dad. He gently pressed it to the man's lips. Quill took it on sucking it quietly. It immidietly helped regulate his breathing as he continued to cry.
"Pete, why don't you get in bed huh?" Paws gently carded through his hair.
Quill of course obeyed. He got into his bed before curling up around the racoon. His sniffles were quiet and he was nearing sleep. Rocket let himself be cuddled. Of course this has happened once or twice before. After all. They were best friends and Rocket would do anything for Peter. Rocket honestly didn't mind the affection.
Soon enough he heard Quill's breathing even out. Rocket sighed. A good nap never hurt anyone, so he shut his eyes.
Rocket woke up slightly cold. There was no more weight on him. He turned over.
Despite obviously not being regressed anymore, Peter had his knees to his chest and he was staring at the wall.
"I'm sorry. I really didn't mean to do...that." his voice was raspy. Spent from crying.
"Quill, you know I don't mind. And it's about time this happened, I was gettin' real worried about you. All that drinking and putting this off. You need to cope. Take a few days off. He'll I'll babysit ya just please." The racoon said softly.
"You know, this is alot of sentiment for you." The captain smirked playfully.
"Yeah yeah I know." The raccoon rolled his eyes and pat his back. "Com'on we've probably landed. I'll make you something to eat and we can try to relax okay?"
"Yeah..that sounds good.."