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There’s a box on her pillow.
A year ago Gamora would have assumed it to be a poorly executed assassination attempt, or maybe another test for weakness by her father. Today, however, it only takes one glance at the mismatched scraps of paper covering it for her to know the package is no threat at all.
Peter hadn’t exactly been subtle about her upcoming birthday over the past few weeks. Every time he tried to nonchalantly ask about any Zen-Whoberian traditions or her favorite kind of cake, Gamora was quick to shut him down. She can’t remember the last time she celebrated her birthday, there’s no point in starting now. Sweets, parties, presents –– they’re all completely unnecessary.
Her boyfriend apparently disagreed.
Gamora picks up the box, thankful that at least he’d had the decency not to give her something privately –– one could only imagine the wrath she’d face from Mantis if she found out Gamora hadn’t told her it was her birthday. She lifts the lid and can’t help the soft gasp that escapes her lips at the sight it reveals.
There’s a dagger with a beautifully carved wooden hilt that Gamora knows must have cost him his cut from their last few missions, but that’s not what causes the tears to well in her eyes because underneath the dagger is a doll. It’s not meant to represent a Zenhoberei, but the facial features are similar enough that a gut-wrenching wave of nostalgia and longing hits her as she picks it up. Its body is made from a soft green cloth and its hair is yarn, just like the doll she used to practice her braids with as a child. She had mentioned it in passing to Peter when he’d asked her to teach him to do her hair, voice wavering ever so slightly as she recalled having to leave the doll behind when the Chitauri army arrived.
“The only other toy I had was given to me by Thanos as a test.” Her face remained stoic as Peter had carefully looped one lock of her hair over another. “I failed. He made me watch as he burned it to ashes.” He’d pressed a soft kiss to the nape of her neck and held her just a tad bit tighter that night.
The doll she cradles in her lap isn’t a trap meant to humiliate her or a trick to break her spirit into submission, but a gift from a man who truly cares about her. For him to remember those painful memories she’d shared is one thing, but to go out in search of something that reminded her of the home she was torn away from? It has to be one of the kindest things anyone has ever done for her. For the first time since she was a child, Gamora finds herself smiling on her birthday.
She finds him standing in the cockpit, brow knit in concentration as he scrolls through his holopad in search of their next job. He’s alone so Gamora doesn’t hesitate to go up and wrap her arms around his waist, pressing a kiss to his back.
“Thank you.” She whispers into the cotton of his shirt. He relaxes into her hug briefly before turning in her grip.
“For what?” The glint in his eyes and the smile dancing on his lips tell Gamora that he’s teasing her, but she can’t find it in herself to roll her eyes at him like she normally would.
“For not making a big deal out of today.” She bites the inside of her cheek before continuing. “For listening to me.” For loving me, she thinks but can’t bring herself to say the words. She doesn’t have to though, because even the unspoken things between them seem to make themselves known through longing glances and dolls wrapped in colored paper. Peter’s expression turns soft with undeniable sincerity, and he’s looking at her in that funny foreign way that makes her stomach flutter and her fingers twitch.
“Happy birthday ‘Mora.” He smiles before kissing her like she’s the most precious thing in the universe. For just a moment, Gamora melts into him and allows herself to believe that she is.