Work Text:
LOCATION: KNOWHERE
In the years of her life, Mantis has lived inside the bodies of two different Celestials.
Granted, only one of those Celestials had been alive. Ego’s planet was as much his body as his body that looked like a body was, maybe more so, but it didn’t always feel like a body. The Celestial skull that houses the odd conglomerate of drifting people who make up the population of Knowhere feels very much like a body, just a dead one. Maybe it should be unsettling. She thinks, sometimes, that Drax finds it unsettling. He doesn’t say it, but sometimes his eyes shift around like he’s regained awareness that he’s living in bones that are not his own.
Mantis doesn’t find it unsettling. She finds few things unsettling, these days. There are things that frighten her, yes- the universe is very large, and Mantis often feels very small, and there is so much that she has not seen, but the more she sees, she finds the more she loves. There is so very much to love, she thinks, in the endless expanse of the stars.
Mantis has two lists. She writes them down in the skittering language of her home planet, the planet she does not remember, all tiny dots and dashes and lines, and she keeps them underneath her mattress and reads them before she goes to bed. The first list is much shorter than the second.
THINGS MANTIS DOES NOT LOVE:
- Ego. Mantis does not know if you can hate something that is dead, but she tries her best.
- When people are mean for no reason. Unless it’s funny.
- The brine that comes from Knowhere’s brain. It smells bad.
- When Quill snores very loudly. It is better, now that they do not all live on the ship, but sometimes you could hear Quill snore like he was right next to you even when he was in another room. It kept Mantis awake.
- The way everyone looks so sad whenever Gamora is around. It makes her sad for them, and it makes her sad for Gamora, too.
The second list is a list of things Mantis loves. If she listed everything, she would never stop writing, but these ones are important.
THINGS MANTIS LOVES:
- Mantis loves Drax and his big stupid head.
- Mantis loves Groot, and the way his language only has three words in it and the way his vines twine around her when she hugs him. Groot is the best hugger of them all.
- Mantis loves Peter, her brother who does not know he is her brother, and the way he sometimes ruffles her hair or knocks her playfully on the shoulder when he walks past.
- Mantis loves Rocket, and the way he lets her perch on his workbench with her chin on her knees and the way he explains things in a way that sounds like he is irritated by her being there, and she loves that she knows he is not irritated by her, it is only pretend.
- Mantis loves music.
- Mantis loves to be angry. She was never angry before she left Ego. She was not allowed to be. Now she relishes in it.
- Mantis loves laughing.
- Mantis loves knives. She loves when people fight with knives.
- Mantis loves Gamora. Gamora does not remember her anymore, but Mantis loves her anyway.
- Mantis loves Cosmo and her soft fur, even if she thinks Cosmo is a little ugly. She does not have nearly enough teeth, and the teeth she does have are not large enough.
There is one addition to her second list that Mantis does not write.
Mantis loves Nebula. Nebula does not love her. Mantis doesn’t know if Nebula loves anything at all.
***
There are many things that Mantis loves about Nebula. She loves the way that Nebula walks, like she is always going somewhere important. She loves the color of her (she thinks blue might be her favorite color). She loves her black eyes, black like Mantis’s. She loves that Nebula can fight with anything that you give her and win. She loves the way she can sometimes hear gears whirring from somewhere inside Nebula’s body. She loves the way her voice sounds and the way that she’s always watching and she loves how many swear words Nebula knows, all colorful and vivid and disgusting. Mantis thinks Nebula makes some of them up, and she loves how creative she is. She loves the way she rolls her eyes and the way her breathing sounds and the way she keeps fighting even after her life has been so difficult.
Nebula does not love Mantis. She tolerates her. Mantis does not expect Nebula to love her. She thinks the only thing Nebula does love is Gamora, and even then, she’s not sure. She’s never felt it from her, the way she sometimes feels Quill’s love for Gamora spiraling off of him in waves even when she is not touching him. But Nebula would kill and die for Gamora, so Mantis thinks that must be love.
Nebula has seen so many beautiful things in the universe. She has seen so much more than Mantis. How has she never found something to love, in all that beauty?
***
LOCATION: EGO, THE LIVING PLANET
“Ego?” Mantis asks.
“Yes, Mantis?” her master replies. It is dark. Mantis does not know if this is because it is night, or if it is because Ego is tired. Her master is so tired, these days. He comes to Mantis when it is dark, and Mantis lays her tiny hands on his head and tells him to sleep. Sometimes he does. Sometimes, he only drifts. Mantis is very young, but she knows more about the weight of a planet than she should.
“What is the thing you love the most in the universe?”
Ego is quiet for a moment. Mantis wonders if he is asleep, or if he doesn't want to answer her question, but she can feel his brain buzzing beneath her hands, so she thinks it must be the latter.
It isn’t the first time Mantis has asked this question. She asks it often. She never expects him to say that he loves her the most. She knows her master, her father, does not love her, not as much as she loves him. She just wants to know. But he has never answered her question.
He answers it tonight.
“A seed,” he murmurs, in a voice that rumbles through the chest of his little body, and through the ground beneath her feet. “A seed that will cover planets. A seed that will make everything beautiful. A seed that will make everything… me.”
He waves his hand in a lazy arc, and a shimmering image forms in the air before her. The seed is blue and purple and glowing, with tendrils waving lazily around it.
“Beautiful,” Ego whispers, and his eyelids droop. The image vanishes, and her master sleeps.
Mantis does not think the seed is beautiful. She thinks it is terrifying. She does not understand why Ego loves it more than anything else in the universe. But she loves Ego, so she tells herself that she is simply too dull to see its beauty.
“I love you,” she whispers into the dark. She does not think the dark hears her.
***
LOCATION: THE BENETAR
The stars are so bright sometimes that they burn Mantis’s eyes. This does not bother her- she loves the stars. She loves the way they burst and fade depending on where they are in their long, long lives. She especially loves the way they reflect in Nebula’s dark eyes.
It’s just the two of them, for once. Mantis does not often find herself alone with Nebula. Nebula treats her with the same wariness that her sister does, as though Mantis’s touch is a poison blade. Mantis has never been dangerous, not before she joined the Guardians. She finds she rather likes being dangerous. She does not like that Nebula is uncomfortable around her.
Nebula does not seem so uncomfortable today. Above them, the sounds of Peter’s music thump from the kitchen, accompanied by an alarming burning smell that tells Mantis Peter is trying to cook. He’s not very good at it, but Mantis loves his cooking anyway, even if she has to spit it out after two bites. She prefers Drax’s cooking. The stars zoom by in the large window looking out into space, and the metal fused into Nebula’s skin glints where she sits, one leg propped up on the sill, the other dangling down to the floor, elbow resting on her knee.
Mantis stands some distance away, bouncing up and down in slow, repetitive motions on the balls of her feet. She is watching Nebula as much as she is watching the stars. Nebula knows she is here, and she has not objected to her company, and that is enough for Mantis.
“What is the thing you love most in the universe?” Mantis asks. Her voice may as well be a gun blast in the quiet of the room, but Nebula does not react, aside from a frown.
“What?”
“What is the thing you love most in the universe?” Mantis repeats. Maybe Nebula didn’t hear her properly. “You have been so many places. You must have seen some beautiful things.”
“Love is a fairytale for children,” Nebula says. There’s a rasp to her voice that sends shivers all down Mantis’s spine. “It isn’t real.”
Mantis frowns. “It is too real. I love many things. I love the stars.”
“Stars are useful,” Nebula says. “They fuel worlds. Bring light. They have a purpose. That’s why you love them, but that isn’t real. Love is just chemicals in a brain, swirling around, tricking us into valuing things that are good for our survival. But it got fucked up somewhere along the evolutionary line, and now we can love things that are bad for us. It still isn’t real.”
Mantis tilts her head. Her fingers are itching to touch Nebula, to feel what she feels when she says this. Is she sad about it? Is she happy? Does she feel anything besides rage and pain, the only two emotions Mantis has ever felt from her?
She doesn't touch her. Nebula wouldn’t like it.
“So you love things that are useful?”
“No,” Nebula says scathingly, turning her head slightly to glare at Mantis. “Things that are useful are useful. It doesn't matter if I love them. They are useful whether I love them or not.”
“That feels sad to me,” Mantis says.
“It isn’t sad,” Nebula says. “It’s the way things are.”
There’s a beat of silence.
“I love you, I think,” Mantis says quietly. It is not the first time she has said this to someone. It isn’t even the first time she has said it to Nebula, but she means it a little more each time, as she learns a little more about love and the universe and what it all means.
Nebula goes still, even stiller than she was. Her fist clenches at her knee, then her elbow slams back into the wall, leaving a dent. Mantis saw it coming, and does not jump. The first time she said it, Nebula shot a hole in Quill’s jacket. She wasn’t aiming for him, he was just in the way.
“Piss off,” Nebula spits out, and then she is gone.
Mantis doesn’t mind. She loves when Nebula swears.
***
LOCATION: THE PLANET KITSON
“What’s that?”
“That,” Quill says, grabbing Mantis by the shoulders and steering her out of the way of a stumbling patron, “is the House of Games. Which we will be staying very, very far away from, if we know what’s good for us?”
“Do we know what’s good for us?” Mantis wonders.
“Eh, going by our history, no,” Rocket answers. He’s walking on Mantis’s left, tapping on a tablet and dodging people’s feet by instinct. “I’ve got a lock on her location.”
“Where is she?” Quill asks. His hand lingers on Mantis’s shoulder companionably. In return, Mantis does her best not to read past any surface level emotions. It’s nice, she thinks, to have friends who will touch her shoulder without being afraid. She doesn’t want to lose that.
“Er…” Rocket trails off. “Pete, you sure you’re up for this particular mission?”
“Why wouldn’t I be?” Quill retorts.
“I mean, look around,” Rocket says. “Kitson ain’t exactly… you might not like where you find her, is all.”
Quill’s jaw sets, and a surge of stubbornness shimmies its way from his hand into Mantis’s system. “Yeah, dude, I know Kitson. Brothels and gambling? That was my shit. I spent a lot of time here when I was younger. I can handle it.”
“...right,” Rocket says skeptically. “Mantis, if he starts acting up, put him on his ass.”
“With pleasure!” Mantis chirps.
“Fine. She’s a few blocks away.”
Kitson is dirty, and nobody looks or feels very happy. It makes Mantis feel skittish.
“Peter?” she asks, mostly to distract herself.
“Yeah?”
“What do you love most in the universe?”
Peter stumbles. “Uh, that’s a question.”
Mantis nods serenely. “I am asking everyone I know.”
“Don’t start with me,” Rocket says at once. “You won’t get an answer.”
“I’m not asking you ,” Mantis says. “I’m asking Peter.”
“You heard the lady, Quill,” Rocket says, the canine corner of his mouth twisting up in a facsimile of a grin.
“Do I have to answer?” Quill says.
Mantis ponders this.
“I could compel you to answer,” she muses. “But I don’t think I should. That doesn’t seem like something friends would do. I hope you tell me, though.”
“Jesus,” Quill mutters. “Uh, I don’t know. My ship.”
“Our ship,” Rocket corrects.
“ My ship,” Peter shoots back. “The Benetar.”
Mantis frowns. “I don’t think you are telling the truth.”
“It’s kind of a big question, bug,”
“I am not a bug,” Mantis grumbles, but her chest lights up. Quill has explained that ‘bug’ is an affectionate nickname that he calls her because they are friends. Mantis never had a nickname before Quill.
They arrive at their destination before she can push Quill on a real answer. This building looks even seedier than the rest they’ve passed, and there’s all sorts of strong feelings coming from the patrons, all of which make Mantis feel warm and uncomfortable. There’s a large, vast range of emotions out there, and most of them are private, Mantis finds. People do not like her feeling their fear, or their shame, for example. These feelings, though, carnal hunger and arousal, are particularly private, but here, they beat as loud as a drum.
“Even for a brothel, this place is a shithole,” Rocket says. Quill’s gone a bright shade of red.
“She’s in here?”
“Nebbie is, anyway,” Rocket says. Mantis wrinkles her nose.
“What’s Nebula doing in here?” she asks. Quill snorts.
“Relaxing? We can only hope.”
“Yeah, I dunno, I get the feeling it wasn’t her idea,” Rocket says, shooting a sidelong look at Quill. “Why don’t you wait out here?”
But Quill is already pushing inside. Rocket curses, and follows, leaving Mantis with no choice but to do the same.
It’s like being hit over the head with a bat, entering that building. Everything is heightened, desire and lust and some darker, nastier things that Mantis tries to turn away from. Her head is swimming and she claps her hands over her ears, as if that will help dull the noise. She loses sight of Rocket and Peter at once.
She contemplates screaming, if only to get their attention, but before she can actually enact this plan, a hand closes around her wrist. Mantis does not want to be touched. She especially does not want to be touched in here, where she isn’t sure what the intentions of touch are. In a moment of pure instinct, she bites the hand, and her teeth hit metal. It’s only then that she registers the color.
Slowly, she drags her eyes up the blue arm to a more familiar blue face. Nebula’s head is tilted, and she looks almost amused.
“Did you just bite me?”
“Nebula!” Mantis says, and she throws her free arm around her shoulders, the other still held tight in Nebula’s grip.
“Ugh, get off-” Nebula says, pushing at her until she releases her hold. Mantis moves backwards, smiling.
“We found you!”
“That was the point of me dropping my coordinates,” Nebula says. “Are doofus and Rocket with you?”
“Yes, but I don’t know where they went. It is very loud in here.”
Nebula frowns. “It’s not loud.”
“Not loud with your ears, dummy,” Mantis says. “You’re so quiet. It’s very nice.”
Nebula’s emotions are always quiet to Mantis. She doesn’t know if it’s the metal that makes up Nebula’s body, or if Nebula is closed so tight that even Mantis can’t break through, or if Nebula doesn't feel things quite as much as the others (some people don’t!), but right now, the only thing coming from Nebula is a quiet discomfort, coupled with an odd relief.
“Let’s get you out of here,” Nebula mutters finally. She doesn’t release Mantis’s wrist, just twists her hand until she can lower it and drag Mantis along. “I fucking hate this place. I didn’t even want to come here-”
She’s still grumbling as she leads Mantis to the door and shoulders it open, exchanging a few clipped words with the bouncer. Mantis waves at him as she passes. He does not wave back.
“Don’t wave at people here,” Nebula snaps, jerking her head to the side of the building. Mantis follows, head already clearer.
“I know what I’m doing,” Mantis says, lifting her chin. Nebula leans against the building. Mantis goes to do the same, before she sees the grime coating it, and changes her mind. “What are we doing out here?”
“Waiting for doofus to get his heart broken again,” Nebula says.
“That’s not very nice.”
“Nothing I can do about it,” Nebula says. “She won’t leave, and I won’t be stranded on this fucking planet just because my sister wants to gamble her way through the galaxy.”
“That wasn’t a game house.”
“No. It wasn’t.”
Nebula is looking a little stabby. Mantis gets the feeling Nebula was just as uncomfortable in that place as Mantis was, though probably for different reasons.
“Did you have a nice vacation?” she asks. “Before this?”
Nebula pauses, then nods once. “It was nice.”
It doesn’t take long for the heartbreak Nebula mentioned to happen. Gamora comes storming out of the brothel, radiating a heat that makes Mantis blush, and shouting obscenities at Peter and Rocket.
“How many times, Quinn!” she shouts. “How many times are we going to do this?”
“It’s Quill!” Peter shouts back. “And we didn’t come here for you!”
He’s not shouting angry. He’s shouting sad, which is the worst kind of shouting a person can do.
In a roundabout way, Mantis gets her answer. The thing Peter loves most in the universe is Gamora- and Gamora doesn’t even remember him.
When they’re walking back to the Benetar, when Gamora has stormed off and Nebula walks ahead with Rocket, complaining about needing to wash the filth of this place off of her skin, Mantis walks with Peter, and she holds his hand.
“I love you,” she says quietly. She doesn't know if it’s the right time to say it, but she always thinks that she’d like to hear that someone loves her when she’s sad. She thinks Peter might be the same.
Peter lets go of her hand and pulls her into his side with an arm around her shoulder. “Love you too, bug.”
It is nice to hear even when she isn’t sad.
***
LOCATION: THE PLANET INDIGARR
“Yup, he’s still up there,” Quill says. The path he wanders down is steep, and near the bottom, his foot catches on a rock and he nearly goes sprawling.
“He knows we have to do what these people are paying us to do, right?” Rocket asks. “Otherwise we don’t get paid.”
He crosses his arms, looking up to the peak of the hill. Underneath a beautiful tree full of red leaves stretching out like an umbrella, Thor sits overlooking the landscape below.
“Maybe he is praying,” Mantis says.
“He’s a god,” Nebula scoffs. “What would a god pray to?”
“I don’t know!” Mantis snaps. “Something!”
“He’s not praying, I don’t think,” Quill intervenes. “He’s just kind of sitting there.”
“What a shocker,” Rocket says.
“I am Groot,” says Groot.
“I agree with Groot,” Drax says, arms crossed over his large chest. “The god-man can do whatever he likes.”
Mantis giggles. “You’re just saying that because you have a cruuussshhh.”
She draws the word out in a way she’s been told means that she is teasing. Drax does not always catch these subtleties, but the others will.
“I would never crush him!” Drax objects. “I could not even if I wished to. His muscles are made of Cotati metal fibers.”
“His muscles aren’t Cotati,” Nebula says. She’s sitting on a rock with one foot kicked far out in front of the other, the hatch on her wrist open, tinkering with one of the mechanisms. “ My muscles are made of Cotati metal fibers. Literally.”
Mantis has never really understood the appeal of muscles. Looking at Nebula now, she thinks she understands it a little more.
“She means you like him, Drax,” Quill says.
“I do like him. He is a strong friend and an admirable fighter,” Drax says.
“No, like you like him, like him,” Quill says.
“You are saying the same word twice.”
“I am Groot.”
“What! That is preposterous!” Drax says, throwing his head back with a boisterous laugh. “He is beautiful, but my heart remains with my Ovette.”
“So you do have a crush!” Mantis says, grinning. “Like I said!”
“Why do you keep saying that? I would never crush him.”
“For the love of-” Quill and Nebula say at the same time, before they each attempt to glare the other into submission.
“Hey, hey, check this out!” Rocket says. His shoulders are shaking like he’s holding back laughter, and it starts to escape him in small wheezes.
“If you-” wheeze “-like Thor so much-” wheeze “-why don’t you- ” wheeze “- why don’t you MARRY him?”
His joke told, Rocket explodes into laughter, bent over with his hands on his knees as he cackles. Eventually, Mantis joins in, only because no one else is- though she does catch the smallest lift of Nebula’s lips.
“That is ridiculous,” Drax says. “I would never imagine that I would be worthy to marry someone like him.”
“You’re taking all the fun out of it,” Rocket grumbles. He swings himself onto Groot’s shoulder, and flips the rest of them off. “Someone’s gotta go talk to the locals, explain the delay.”
“And that someone is you? Funny,” Nebula asks, pushing herself to her feet in a fluid, sinuous movement, and follows. Quill rubs between his eyes, sighing.
“You two, go with them. Try not to blow anything up before Thor and I get there.”
“Why do you get to stay with the god-man?” Drax objects.
“Drax, stop being jealous,” Mantis says, walking behind him and pushing him forward with her whole body weight. “Quill has a crush too, and it’s his turn.”
“Wh-huh- I do not!” Quill calls after them.
Rocket, Groot, and Nebula have a bit of a head start, so Drax and Mantis fall behind them as they walk. Indigarr is a beautiful planet, with a huge sun hanging in the sky. If it were any brighter, Mantis thinks it would burn her skin, but it is a lovely sort of light that it casts.
“Drax?” she asks. “What is the thing you love most in the universe?”
“My wife and daughter,” Drax answers at once. Mantis blinks.
“You are the first person to answer that quickly.”
“It’s not a difficult question,” Drax says.
“Peter thinks it is. “
“Quill is an idiot.”
Mantis thinks perhaps she should come to her brother’s defense, but- well, Quill can be an idiot, there’s no denying that.
They can see the locals gathering in the distance. The temple they are fighting over looms in the distance, too- it’s beautiful and made of glass, and Mantis is afraid that if she gets too close, she might shatter the whole thing.
“Can you love someone that is dead?” she asks suddenly. It is not a concept that has occurred to her before. The only person that she loved who has died is Gamora, and now Gamora is not dead, even if she isn’t their Gamora anymore. There’s Ego, but Mantis stopped loving Ego a long time ago.
“Of course you can,” Drax says. “Sometimes that is when you love them the most.”
“Can you hate someone who is dead?”
“I hate many people who are dead,” Drax says. “I hate Ronin, and he has been dead for years.”
“Hmm,” Mantis hums. “I hate Ego. He is dead.”
“You should. The man was handsome, but I don’t think he was a good person.”
“He wasn’t a person at all,” Mantis says, but this distinction doesn't seem to matter to Drax.
There’s an ear-splitting boom, a crackle, and Thor flies over their heads.
“Oh, here we go, real subtle,” Rocket mutters ahead of them, and they all begin to sprint.
“Drax!” Mantis yells over the sounds of impending battle. “I love you!”
“Thank you!” he yells back. He doesn't say he loves her too. Mantis doesn’t need him to. She already knows.
***
LOCATION: THE PLANET DERVANI
Sometimes when Mantis looks at Nebula, she just wants to sink her teeth into her. Not in a bad way, not to hurt, just to hold her in place, to get a taste of her, and because she thinks it’s the closest she’ll ever get to being able to bundle Nebula away in an alcove in her chest to keep her safe all the rest of her life.
She’s feeling it now, that urge to bite. It almost makes her teeth itch. She focuses instead on the trees stretching up over their heads. She can’t even see the sky from where they are- the trees reach up to the heavens with thick trunks and huge canopies that interconnect from tree to tree, even trees of different species. The whole planet is like that, with the exception of some of the cliff-faces that rise up past the canopy.
Mantis’s comm unit crackles to life.
“Bug, you and Neb good?” Quill asks.
“Peachy keen, jellybean,” Mantis replies. She does not know what a jellybean is, but Peter says they are delicious, and she likes the way the word sounds.
The Benetar is hovering somewhere in the planet’s atmosphere, Drax and Quill still on board, scanning the forests from the ship. Rocket and Groot are somewhere else on the planet, and she and Nebula have paired off to search this section of forest for a fugitive wanted on Xandar.
“We are not peachy keen,” Nebula mutters. She glares up at the trees around them like they’ve caused her personal offense. Mantis rolls her eyes, and confirms to Quill that they’re fine. Nebula just has something against these trees- she’s been dragging her feet ever since she heard where they were heading.
“You are not in a good mood,” Mantis says once Quill has signed off.
“I’m never in a good mood.”
“You are often in better moods,” Mantis says. “You look like you want to take an ax to all these trees.”
There’s a prolonged groaning noise from the canopy above them, and Mantis makes a mental note not to mention axes or cutting trees down again.
“This is a stupid planet,” Nebula says. “I don't have to be in a good mood when we’re on a stupid planet.”
“You never have to be in a good mood if you don’t want to be,” Mantis says. “I’m just curious.”
“I don’t want you to be curious about me.”
“Well, I am, and you don't get to say that I can’t be,” Mantis says. Her curiosity is, after all, her own, and as powerful as Nebula is, she doesn’t control things that are Mantis’s. “I am often curious about my friends.”
“We are not friends.”
Mantis would be more offended by this if Nebula did not often say the same to Rocket, who she knows for a fact Nebula considers a friend. “I think we are friends. I know what kind of food you like to eat. Friends know that sort of thing.”
“Ronin knew what kind of food I liked to eat,” Nebula shoots back. She nearly trips on a root, and curses. “Do you think we were friends?”
Mantis shoots her a look. “That is not the same and you know it.”
“I don't know it.”
“You do know it, you are just being stubborn. If you are going to be stubborn, I will look for the target by myself.”
As if to demonstrate her willingness to do so, Mantis picks up her pace, drawing a few steps ahead of Nebula. She hears Nebula mutter something, but she does not look back, just holds her head up and keeps walking.
“It’s dangerous here,” Nebula says. She overtakes Mantis quickly. “You shouldn't go alone.”
“So you are worried about me,” Mantis says.
“I didn’t say that.”
“You didn’t not say it. How do you know this planet is dangerous? You have been here before?”
From the corner of her eye, she sees Nebula frown at the ground. She keeps herself facing forward. Nebula, on the rare occasions she can be convinced to share anything, does not like feeling like she is under scrutiny when she does so.
“Once. Years ago,” Nebula says finally. “With Ronin. And Gamora.”
“For your training?”
“For my training,” Nebula confirms. “Not that I trained very much, after Gamora pushed me off a cliff.”
“Were you hurt?”
Nebula’s head swivels to stare at Mantis incredulously. “I fell off a cliff. Yes. I was hurt.”
“Sorry, but you don’t get hurt most of the time, even if you fall off cliffs,” Mantis says. “I was just asking.”
Nebula sighs. “It was before.”
She does not need to specify before what. Mantis knows. Before the enhancements, probably not before the torture, but when Nebula was still more organic than metal. Organic beings often do not survive falling off cliffs.
“You must have already been so strong,” Mantis says, thinking out loud.
“I lost. I was not strong.”
“But you survived being pushed off a cliff,” Mantis says. “That is pretty strong.”
Nebula pauses. “I never thought of it like that.”
Another pause.
“Why are you asking everyone that question?”
“What question?”
“What they - love most in the universe,” Nebula says, spitting out the word love like it’s poison.
Mantis shrugs. “I just want to know. I like to know things about the people I love. Asking them questions like that shows that I care to know them.”
A third pause.
“What’s yours, then?” Nebula asks. Mantis thinks- she hopes- that Nebula is unaware of the way her heart flutters like a tiny bird’s wings.
“The thing I love most in the universe?” Mantis muses. “I don’t know that I could choose.”
“That’s what you’re asking everyone else to do, isn’t it?” Nebula says. “Choose? It’s only fair that you choose, too. So what is it? What do you love so much it would kill you to lose it?”
Nebula’s idea of love, like most things about Nebula, is quite violent. Mantis doesn’t mind it. That is often how she thinks of love, too. It is beautiful, but often, it is sad and painful. The beauty of it just makes up for the sadness, in Mantis’s mind.
She thinks on that, as they continue to walk. Nebula does not push her on an answer, and Mantis takes her time to think about it. An easy answer would be the Guardians. She loves them fiercely and wholly and defensively, because they are hers- but is Nebula looking for an easy answer? Is an easy answer the answer Mantis wants to give?
Outside of the Guardians, then. She runs through her list, but so much of her list is the Guardians. So much of her list is her family and the things that come with them. It is only when she looks at Nebula and the desire to sink her teeth into her itches at her mouth and she remembers that she has never felt love from Nebula, not once, that the answer comes to her.
“Love,” she says decidedly.
“What does that mean?”
“I couldn't live without love,” Mantis says. “I love love.”
It’s a confusing statement, and a confusing topic, but it feels right in Mantis’s head. The confusion of it loosens her tongue, though, and the next bit slips out without her permission.
“I couldn’t live like you.”
Very little that Mantis says ever seems to impact Nebula, outside of causing a vague sense of irritation, like most other people. But Nebula reacts to this as if Mantis has reached out and slapped her across the face. She flinches, visible even in Mantis’s peripheral, and falls a step back.
“Like… me,” she says flatly.
Mantis’s stomach sinks. She gets the feeling that she’s messed up, said something wrong, and that sense is only confirmed by the waves of hurt coming off of Nebula now. She’s felt all sorts of pain from Nebula before- she thinks Nebula always hurts, at least a little, but most of that has been physical pain. Not this.
“I mean-” Mantis says, stumbling over her words. “I didn’t-”
“You didn't mean it?” Nebula says, and a dark, bitter laugh forces its way up her throat. “Of course you meant it. You never say anything you don’t mean, Mantis.”
“Sometimes I do,” Mantis says, even though she really doesn’t, unless she’s outright lying, but she’s so desperate to course-correct, to stop the hurt, that she thinks she’d say anything. “It’s just- you said-”
“Love is a fairytale for children,” Nebula says. Her voice has no inflection, and she’s slipped into a register that amplifies the metallic quality of her speech. “It is.”
“That’s why I-”
“No, you’re right,” Nebula says. “Who would want to live like me?”
***
LOCATION: THE PLANET GANGALOR
Mantis likes Gangalor. They’ve been there before, and she is always enamored with the trees that look like fungus, and the brightly colored flowers. The trees are spongy to the touch. Mostly, she likes it because Groot likes it. He likes the fur he collects from the Gangalorian squirrel birds, even though Groot does not wear clothes and thus, has no use for the fur.
So when Groot invites her on a trip to Gangalor, Mantis jumps at the chance. Groot is growing up so fast. He is no longer the baby he was when Mantis met him, and he is growing taller and broader and becoming less surly. Even so, a request from Groot to spend time with him, after so much of his teenage years (at least, Mantis thinks they would be his teenage years) were spent distancing himself from them, is not one Mantis would ever pass up.
She is helping Groot trap the squirrel birds when she asks the question. The squirrel birds won’t approach Groot, but with Mantis, they are just curious, so they come close enough for Groot to leap out of his hiding place and snatch them and give them a haircut before releasing them again. Mantis doesn’t know what Groot does with the fur, but it is pretty.
“Groot?” she asks, carefully spinning in a circle until her eyes land on their next target.
“I am Groot,” Groot’s voice says back from the thicket of trees where he is hiding.
“What is the thing you love most in the world?”
The squirrel bird starts to descend, scrambling down the tree trunk.
“I am Groot?”
“Sure, I guess it can be a group of things,” Mantis says, shrugging. “I’m just curious.”
The squirrel bird reaches the ground, and Groot’s branches reach out and snap it up. The creature squawks, and is released moments later with far less fur than it had moments ago. Groot emerges, triumphant, and adds the fur to his stash.
“I am Groot,” he says.
Mantis claps her hands to her chest. It has been a long time since Groot admitted to loving any of the Guardians besides Rocket, and even Rocket has been rare. To hear him announce that he loves all of them, and that he loves them more than anything else in the universe-
Well, it’s lovely.
“We love you too,” Mantis says, knowing she can speak for each of them in this case. “I love you.”
Groot smiles. He’s doing that more often these days, too.
Later, when Groot has had his fill of the birds, he hoists Mantis up to sit on his shoulder while they head back to the ship. It causes her to occasionally have to duck to avoid a low-hanging branch, but it’s a much more fun way to travel than with her own two feet.
“I am Groot.”
“I am not acting funny,” Mantis says.
“I am Groot.”
“Nothing is bothering me.”
“I am Groot,” Groot says, sounding a little offended.
“I know you give good advice,” Mantis says, patting the top of his head. “But I don’t know if I can talk about it. It might be secret.”
“I am Groot?”
Mantis sighs. Some of what she and Nebula talked about feels private, but maybe there’s a way she can confide in Groot without spilling any of Nebula’s private affairs. Groot is a notoriously bad secret-keeper.
“I said something that upset Nebula,” she says slowly.
“I am Gr-”
“No, I can’t tell you what it is!” Mantis interrupts. “But I made her upset, and I love her so much, but I don’t know how to make it better.”
“I am Groot.”
“Jewelry?”
“I am Groot.”
“Quill does that? Huh. I don’t have any jewelry to give her,” Mantis says. “I don't even think she likes jewelry.”
Groot shrugs, lifting Mantis up with the motion and nearly smacking her head on a branch. “I am Groot.”
Mantis blinks. Has she really not just apologized? Admittedly, Nebula hasn’t really been talking to her, so the chances have been slim, but it seems like it should be the obvious solution.
“You are very good at advice,” Mantis says. Groot beams.
“I am Groot.”
Before the ship docks back at Knowhere, Mantis begs a little bit of the squirrel-bird fur off of Groot. He is reluctant to part with any, but Mantis doesn't want to go to Nebula empty-handed.
She finds her at one of the older, broken-down buildings that got smashed up before the Guardians set up base on Knowhere. Nebula often works on things like this when she has the time, even though many other people could do it, but Nebula is so strong that she can clear three times the rubble as a normal person in half the time. Kraglin is with her, talking up a storm. Nebula tolerates Kraglin’s ramblings more than most people. She once told Mantis that Kraglin was kind to her, once upon a time, when he didn’t need to be.
Mantis waits patiently until the two of them have lifted a large sheet of metal, and then waves until Nebula spots her.
“Hey, Mantis,” Kraglin says. The fin Yondu gave him rests on his head, even though he still doesn't have the hang of the thing just yet.
“Hello,” Mantis says. “Can I speak to Nebula, please?”
“You don’t need my permission,” Kraglin says. He drops a wink. “Try not to tear the place up more than it is, m’kay?”
Nebula rolls her eyes, and punches Kraglin so hard in the shoulder he goes stumbling.
“Get out of here.”
“Yes’m,” Kraglin says. “I’ll finish that bank heist story later, yeah?”
“Whatever,” Nebula says.
Kraglin’s footsteps fade, and Mantis frowns.
“What was that about?”
“He thinks we’re having sex,” Nebula says bluntly. “I’ve told him we aren’t.”
“Oh,” Mantis says. It comes out a little squeakier than she’d like.
“What do you want?” Nebula says. She turns like she’s going to get back to work, so Mantis quickly steps in front of her, blocking her path.
“I’m sorry,” she says, and she holds out her peace offering. “For what I said on Dervani.”
Nebula blinks, looking between Mantis’s face and her hand. “What’s this?”
“An I’m sorry gift,” Mantis says. She takes the bracelet she wove out of the squirrel-bird’s fur and holds it up for Nebula’s inspection. “It’s a bracelet.”
“I can see that,” Nebula says slowly. She squints at it.
“It’s made of squirrel-bird fur. It is very soft and colorful.”
Nebula hums, low in her throat.
“If you don’t like it-” Mantis says, slowly lowering her hand. Nebula reaches out, quick as anything, and snatches it, slipping it around her wrist.
“I didn't say that. Back off. I’ll wear it, whatever.”
Mantis grins. “It looks very nice on you. So you accept my apology?”
Nebula’s mouth twists a little, and her fingers run over the bracelet. “I don't want your apologies, Mantis.”
Mantis tilts her head. “So… what do you want?”
Nebula doesn’t answer. She just looks at Mantis with an expression that feels familiar, Mantis just can’t quite place it. She has a gleam in her dark eyes that makes Mantis feel like Nebula might just eat her alive.
She looks the way Mantis feels when she sees Nebula and gets the urge to sink her teeth right into her. Her heartbeat picks up, and she swallows. Nebula follows the bob of her throat with hungry eyes.
The moment stretches thin until Nebula snaps. She grabs Mantis’s face in both hands and kisses her. It’s hard and fast and not especially gentle, and Mantis likes it immensely. She likes that Nebula doesn’t treat her like something fragile. Her antennae brush the top of Nebula’s head, and her hands come up to rest on Nebula’s wrists, fingers ghosting over the bracelet. Nebula presses closer with a punched out breath-
And then it’s over, far too soon. Nebula steps back, looks at the ground, gives Mantis a clipped nod, then leaves.
Mantis remains where she is, staring dreamily after Nebula, even after she is long gone. Nebula’s kiss lingers like a bruise on her lips for days.
***
LOCATION: KNOWHERE
Quill is sad again.
More than sad, really. Mantis is intimately familiar with the difference. Sad Quill and this Quill are two entirely separate beasts. Sad Quill just listens to sad music, and maybe he cries a little. This Quill still listens to sad music, but he also drinks until he is incoherent and calls people by the wrong names and sometimes yells at them when they are just trying to help.
He is doing it now. Mantis is walking by the Guardian’s base when she hears the raised voices, when the grief and despair that Quill is feeling washes over her like a wave, soaking her through to the bone and leaving her shivering. It’s hard to shut out Quill when he’s like this.
“I never asked for this!” Quill shouts, and Mantis hears the sound of someone stumbling. “Never asked- don’t want-”
“Quill, come on,” Rocket says. Mantis draws closer, and she can see Rocket and Nebula standing side by side. Rocket has his arms crossed over his chest. “You’re being a dick.”
“M’ not a dick, you’re a- a dick- a little racooney dick.” A glass waves from the corner where Mantis knows Quill to be. “I’m a realist.”
“A realist,” Nebula scoffs. “If you were a realist, you’d grow up and get over it.”
“You’re so mean,” Quill groans, and his head hits the table with a thunk. Mantis can see a tuft of his hair. “Why are you so fucking mean?”
“An excess of trauma,” Nebula says drily. “What's your excuse?”
“Trauma! I’ve got trauma!” Quill objects.
“We all got trauma, dumbass,” Rocket says. “But you got people around you, Quill-”
His voice is rising. He’s getting frustrated, it prickles at Mantis’s neck and brings a rising pressure behind her eyes.
“You don’t know what it means to have people around you, not everyone gets that lucky-”
“What people? You see any people here?” Quill says, and Mantis winces at the same time Rocket and Nebula do.
It’s like she says. Peter gets mean.
She inches forward, into view of the room’s occupants. It’s Nebula who spots her. They lock eyes, and they need no words to understand what Mantis needs to do. Her stomach sinks. She doesn't like doing this, not to her friends, not to her brother, but when Quill is like this, sometimes there’s no other option. Nebula’s face is scrunched, like she understands.
Mantis draws in a deep breath, and strides into the room. Quill looks up. He’s a mess, blood-shot eyes and drool creeping out of the corner of his mouth, and his nose is bleeding. He must have hit the table harder than she thought.
“Oh, great, here comes-”
“ Sleep ,” Mantis says, laying her hands on his head before he can finish the sentence, before she can hear whatever hurtful thing he was about to spew at her. She wants to let go the second his brain slips into unconsciousness, but she holds on long enough to set him down gently on the table again, laying his cheek against the surface. Then she backs up, rubbing her hands against her pants. It feels wrong, gross, to be that deep in Quill’s head. His anger and his fear and his grief cling to her skin like mucus, and she wants it off.
There’s a lot of sadness in the room. And not just Quill’s.
Later, when Nebula has carried Quill to bed, the Guardians gather around their friend, the way they do when Quill is in a bad way. Quill will sleep the rest of the night, Mantis has made sure of it, and the rest of the Guardians will sleep here with him, so he does not wake up alone. They will not abandon one of their family, no matter what cruelty he slings their way. In the morning, Quill will apologize as best he knows how, and they will all pretend like it isn’t going to happen again, until it does. For now, they sleep.
Drax lays across the door, so that anyone coming or going will have to step over him, and he is already snoring. Groot has created a nest of soft vines and ivy where Rocket sleeps, and Mantis has stolen one of the soft blankets Quill has in his closet and a few pillows, and she curls up near his bed, in case he wakes up and needs her. Nebula sits in the chair at Quill’s desk, eyes unblinking, with no intention of sleeping. She does not sleep as often as the rest of them.
Mantis would like to sleep, but she can still feel Quill’s grief and anger on her skin. It feels like she needs a shower, but she knows a shower won’t take care of it. She tries to relax into the soothing solidity that Drax always exudes, but even that doesn’t work.
It feels the way it felt on the day she failed Ego.
The day she failed her father was not the day he disposed of her, like he did all his other children. Mantis was useful to him. She could help him sleep, and he so desperately needed to sleep. But that day, when she laid her hands on his head and pushed him under, all she could feel was his disdain for her, his disgust, now that she had revealed herself to be a lower life form, lower than the Celestial she was meant to be. That disgust clung to her for days, grimey and staticy. Sometimes, she can still feel it.
Peter’s anger, misdirected as it is, feels like that, and it makes it hard to sleep, despite how tired she is. She shifts restlessly, rubbing her fingers together in an attempt to dispel the feeling.
There’s a bump against her shoulder, and then- quiet. Mantis closes her eyes, relishing in it, and then she looks back over her shoulder.
Nebula’s hand is dangling down over the armrest of the chair, fingers grazing Mantis’s skin. She does not look at her, but the gesture is clear. Nebula has noticed how Mantis is feeling, and she has taken the time to know how to help.
“Thank you,” Mantis whispers.
Nebula shakes her head minutely. “I’m not doing anything.”
Mantis allows a sleepy smile to touch her face. Stubborn. Nebula is so, so stubborn. But deny it as she might, Mantis will take this moment and tuck it away into her chest to keep forever.
She’s just drifting off when she feels it. The emotion rolls over her like a whisper, thumping in a steady rhythm like a heartbeat, warm and burning hot in equal measure, in a juxtaposition of softness and ferocity that could only exist in someone like Nebula. At first, Mantis thinks it is directed only at her, but it’s wider than that. It spreads over the room and the Guardians like a blanket, suffusing them in warmth, shielding them.
“You are full of it,” Mantis says, awestruck. She can’t quite grasp how she’s never seen it before. Mantis is not one to be blinded by outward appearance or demeanor- her very nature allows her to look past all that, whether she’s touching someone or not. But Nebula- Nebula has built up so many walls, inside and out, that the essence of her has somehow slipped past Mantis’s notice.
“Say what you mean, or don’t say anything at all,” Nebula says flatly.
“Love,” Mantis says. “You are so full of love.”
There is a long silence, and then Nebula’s fingers press, ever so slightly, just a bit harder against Mantis’s skin.
“Go to sleep,” she murmurs, and an extra jolt of lovely warmth moves through Mantis’s body.
Mantis obeys.
***
LOCATION: XANDAR
The Guardians of the Galaxy are coined the way they are because they have, in fact, saved the galaxy on numerous occasions. This means that no matter where they go, they run the risk of being recognized. On Xandar, they are guaranteed to be.
Quill once described Xandar as the official Guardians of the Galaxy comic-con. None of them know what a comic-con is, of course, but if it is anything like Xandar, it means that people cheer and scream and sometimes faint when they show up. Sometimes, it even means that people dress up like them. This has caused massive confusion in the past. Once, Groot, when he was much younger, wandered off with a woman dressed as Gamora because he couldn't tell the difference. They were both green, after all. Mantis understands. Another time, Drax just about took the head off of a person dressed as Quill, because he slapped them on the back a little too hard, like he would with Quill, who can take hits like that, and sent them careening head-first into a wall.
“They look exactly alike!” Drax had protested in defense of himself.
“They’re pink!” Quill had exclaimed, outraged.
“Which one are you?” Drax had asked. “The real Quill, or the fake Quill?”
It had taken several minutes to work it all out.
All this to say, Xandar can be overwhelming at times, but Mantis loves it. She was not even around when the Guardians saved Xandar, but her status as one of them has led her to meet some adoring fans.
Today, they are not here to revel in adoration. They’re just here to refuel on their way to a bounty hunt. Quill, Groot, and Drax are handling things on the Benetar, and Rocket, Mantis, and Nebula are out at the market to stock up and kill time.
Of course, as much as they aren’t there for adoration, there are still fans that approach them. This time, its Nebula’s turn in the spotlight.
“Look at that, Nebbie,” Rocket cackles. “Little you!”
“That is not me.”
“She’s blue. Blue is you.”
“That is the stupidest statement I’ve ever heard.”
“She does look like you,” Mantis says. Nebula groans quietly, side-eyeing the mother and her daughter, who is painted all in blue and can’t be more than a toddler, though Mantis isn’t very good at guessing children’s ages, approaching them.
“I’m not even that color blue,” she says.
“You’re right. Kids think they’re so cool, can’t even get the right color,” Rocket says, shaking his head disapprovingly.
“Be nice,” Mantis hisses to both of them. Nebula doesn’t often get approached like this, not on Xandar. She was, after all, on Ronin’s side when he attempted to destroy the planet. As much as the people of Xandar have accepted her as a Guardian, as a hero, she doesn’t garner the same amount of public affection that the rest of them do. Mantis doesn't want to take this away from her.
“Excuse me,” the woman says, voice quiet and a little awestruck. “Guardian Nebula. Is it too much to ask if my daughter can take a picture with you?”
Nebula is quiet, and she looks down at the girl. She stares back up with her hands on her hips and a glare on her face. The corner of Nebula’s mouth twitches upward, just for a moment.
“She would love to take a picture with you,” Mantis says brightly. Nebula shoots her a betrayed look, but when the woman drags her in and holds up her device, she lowers herself down to the daughter’s level without much hesitation.
She looks to Mantis for instruction. Mantis presses her fingers against her own mouth to push it up into a smile. Nebula shakes her head. Fair enough, Nebula’s not a smiler. Instead, Mantis flashes two of what Quill calls ‘peace signs’. That, Nebula accepts, and she and the daughter both glare into the camera, one of Nebula’s hands held up with two fingers extended.
The mother thanks her profusely. Nebula, to Mantis’s surprise, stays at the daughter's level. “The arm on your costume is very good.”
“I would hope so,” the mother laughs. “We paid enough for that prosthetic.”
Nebula glances up at her. “It’s real?”
“I was in an accident,” the girl says. There’s no waver to her voice. “Now I have an arm like you.”
She leans in, like she’s telling a secret. “I wanted a blaster on it, but Mom wouldn’t let me.”
Nebula almost smiles. “You must be very strong.”
“Stronger than anyone in my class,” the girl says, throwing her head back proudly. “I could beat up anyone.”
“Can I see?” Nebula asks, extending her own arm to compare with the girl’s. Beaming so hard it leaves creases in the blue body paint around her eyes, the girl lifts her arm. Gently, Nebula taps at the access panel, and it pops open to reveal a mess of wires and gears. She taps at her own, and pops a component out.
“Please don’t give my daughter a gun,” the mother says faintly.
“It’s not a gun,” Nebula says. “It’ll just make you a little stronger.”
The mother still looks worried at that, but accepts it as Nebula works it into the mechanisms of the girl’s arm.
“There. Now you will defeat hordes and level buildings,” Nebula says, straightening up. The girl is starry-eyed with amazement. Oh, Mantis’s heart could absolutely explode in her chest. She feels as starry-eyed about Nebula as that girl does, and she loves her, she loves her, she loves her.
“Now get lost,” Nebula says.
The girl and her mother leave, and in the direction they go, there’s the sounds of stalls crashing, and a maniacal laugh that only a young girl can produce.
“Ok, people, show’s over!” Rocket hollers. “You wanna donate to the Guardians’ cause, give us some money!”
“Rocket!” Mantis gasps. “You cannot just tell people to give you money.”
Rocket is about to protest, but Mantis raises her voice. “Pictures are 100 units- per Guardian!”
“Oh, you got a business head on you, kid,” Rocket says approvingly.
When the hoard of picture-takers is gone, and they walk away thousands of units richer, Mantis asks the question.
“Rocket, what do you love most in the universe?”
Rocket sighs, like he knew the question was coming. “I told you not to ask me that.”
“You don’t have to answer. Quill never really did.”
“Quill didn't answer 'cause he’s a little bitch,” Rocket says. “I ain’t a little bitch. I can do better than Quill, that’s for damn sure.”
“Then give me an answer,” Mantis says, smug. Pitting Quill and Rocket against each other always works wonders.
“Fine. Thing I love most? Me. Ain't no thing I love more than me, except me.”
“That doesn't even make any sense.”
“He’s lying,” Nebula says, striding past the two of them and making her way towards a stall with single-minded determination.
“Nebbie, I thought we were friends!”
“Why would you think that?” Nebula calls back, weaving through the crowd.
“Quill lied to me too,” Mantis says. Rocket tips his head back, and lets out a long, exasperated groan.
“Groot,” he says. “It’s Groot. Don’t tell him, his head’s too big already.”
Mantis softens, just a bit. “That’s an easy answer.”
“It’s an honest one. And it’s the realest you’re gonna get outta me.”
Honest is the best anyone can ever really hope for with Rocket, Mantis thinks. She is satisfied with that answer.
“I love you, Rocket,” Mantis says, because it is true, and because she does not think Rocket has heard it often, over his life.
“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Rocket says, waving a paw at her. “Love ya too, kid.”
Nebula rejoins them with two small cartons of food. She holds one out to Mantis. Mantis opens it, and gasps.
“Xandarian slugs!” she looks up, grinning. Nebula’s cheeks grow just a little darker in color. “How’d you know?”
“You and I are the only ones who like them,” Nebula says, like it’s nothing, like she hasn’t taken a fact about Mantis and remembered it and then acted on it.
“Keep those slimy things away from me,” Rocket grumbles. Mantis ignores him, and she and Nebula walk together, slurping up the slugs like the delicacy that they are.
“You are very sweet,” Mantis says in a hushed voice, just for Nebula’s ears.
“Ugh. Get over it,” Nebula says, but she lets her shoulder bump against Mantis’s as they walk, and it's enough. It’s more than enough.
***
LOCATION: KNOWHERE
It is quiet in Nebula’s room.
Nebula keeps her space ruthlessly organized, with the exception of a workdesk which sits in the corner, a contained explosion of mechanical parts and tools. It is mostly bare of decoration, aside from a photo of the Guardians, a photo of Gamora, and the soft blankets that adorn her bed. Mantis has come to know the layout of this room very intimately, just as she has come to know its occupant.
Nebula’s shoulder is solid and firm against Mantis’s forehead, and her face brushes against her antennae when she moves. Her arm is wrapped around Mantis’s body, fingers resting against her spine, occasionally moving up and down in a slow, tentative motion.
They’ve been doing this often, sleeping together, in both senses of the word. Some nights, it is only this, this quiet togetherness and simple touching, though this is so all encompassing and unbelievable that the word only feels like a disservice. Some nights it is this and a little extra. Some nights it is only the extra. Tonight, it is this.
“I’ve been thinking about your question,” Nebula says. Her voice is low in Mantis’s ears and rumbling in her body. “What I love most in the universe.”
“You have?” Mantis asks.
“I don’t think I have an answer.”
Mantis smiles at her, knowing that Nebula will feel it, even if she can’t see it. “That’s ok. I have been told that it is a big question.”
It’s bigger for some people than for others. For Drax, for Groot, even to some extent, for Mantis, it isn’t a difficult question at all. For Rocket and Quill and Nebula, it’s harder. That’s ok, Mantis thinks. Not everything has to have an easy answer.
“I don’t know what I love most in the universe,” Nebula continues, and Mantis holds her breath. “But I love you. I think.”
Mantis’s eyes snap open, and she props herself up on an elbow so she can see Nebula. Her face is tilted towards her, but her eyes aren’t quite looking at her until Mantis places a hand on her cheek.
“Do you?” Mantis asks. It’s demanding, more than she would usually allow herself to be, but she loves Nebula so much , and greedily, she wants Nebula’s love in return.
Nebula’s mouth twists a little, but she doesn't pull away from Mantis’s touch. “Yes.”
She splays her hand across Mantis’s back, pressing her palm to her skin, like she’s inviting Mantis to take it, to take her love and know that it’s real. Mantis inhales shakily, and closes her eyes. Her antennae glow, and if she could see it, Nebula’s eyes reflect the color.
“Oh,” she sighs. “Oh, you do love me.”
“Yes,” Nebula says again. Her voice is softer, nearly reverent, and when Mantis opens her eyes, she finds Nebula looking at her the same way she looks at the stars.
“I love you, you know,” Mantis says simply. She has told Nebula this before. She thinks this might be the first time Nebula believes it. “So much.”
Nebula lets out a long, low exhale. “You might be the first.”
“If I am the first to love you, that is a shame,” Mantis says. “It is very easy to love you.”
Nebula’s forehead creases, and she reaches up, sliding her hand to the nape of Mantis’s neck and tugging her in. Their foreheads bump together, and they rest there, breathing in the quiet, private moment they have created.
Love is a silly and tricky and convoluted and complicated thing. But with Nebula, Mantis thinks it has never been easier.