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It takes a few visits for Mantis to show her hand.
She’s a strange one, Nebula had decided, this new addition to her sister’s little team. Mantis keeps her distance, mostly, like all the rest of them, which suits Nebula just fine.
(And sure, it’s a little bit because of her powers, but who in their right mind would want someone digging around in their brain, feeling their feelings and maybe even changing them?)
And yet Mantis still seems to just…be there, never too close, but near enough, always seeming a little too interested. Nebula had noticed. Of course she had, it was impossible not to. She considers only briefly saying something, to snap and growl and threaten, but—
be nice
—the thought is fleeting, quickly dismissed. Be nice, Gamora had told her, and while she wouldn’t say it out loud, Nebula liked having a sister, wanted to keep improving their fragile relationship. Lashing out wouldn’t improve anything. She’s only ever here to see Gamora; if she has to tolerate their presence in exchange, well, she has more self-control than she’s given credit for. The fact all of them are still breathing, and in possession of all their limbs, is a testament to her patience.
So, she ignored it.
(Mostly. She may have swallowed back her crueler impulses, but a sharp glare would do just as well to…encourage Mantis to keep her distance.)
Maybe she should have been meaner, though, because eventually Mantis gets bold.
She waits for the night cycle to get underway, for the rest of the ship’s occupants to wander off to their rooms for the night before finding Nebula, and she stands before her, wringing her hands and looking anxious in a way she hasn’t been since joining the Guardians.
Nebula had taken this in, her dark eyes boring into Mantis and expression unreadable, and the seconds had ticked and ticked and the silence between them stretched uncomfortably, Nebula watching wordlessly as Mantis grew twitchy, fidgeting and biting her lip, waiting for some kind of response or reaction while her face slowly darkened with embarrassment.
And Nebula had cocked her head, felt a flash of amusement at this, that this woman, without an ounce of fear, had so boldly tracked her down and admitted attraction to her.
Nebula.
How funny.
She could almost admire it.
Mantis finally looks like she’s about to say something else, like she can’t stand the silence anymore, but Nebula beats her to it and stops her in her tracks.
“Cute,” she says, expression unreadable, impossible to parse, and then she strides out of the room, leaving Mantis rooted in place.
She leaves that night, deciding she’s ready to move on again. It’s sooner than she intended (than she’d told Gamora), and she’s sure she’ll have her sister on the comms before long once her absence has been noticed, surprised and confused and more than a little upset that she’d up and left without a word about it to anyone (especially her).
It didn’t matter. She’d make her way back again, eventually.
Nebula had already decided to ignore Mantis’s little confession, and ideally, Mantis would follow suit. She tells herself it’s for Gamora, sweeping this little incident under the rug (certainly not because of the funny little feeling picking at her chest). This is her being nice, not making a thing of it. They can pretend it never happened and go back to ignoring each other civilly like they had been doing.
But Mantis is bold and foolish and annoyingly persistent, and it seems like Nebula’s absence has been far from a deterrent, because the next time Nebula finds herself drifting back to the Guardians for another visit, Mantis confronts her as soon as she’s able to find a moment alone, which is an action Nebula regards with some amusement. It’s a little impressive, Nebula gives her that. Equal parts bold and stubborn as it was stupid.
Mantis walks right up to her, face screwed up with determination, and demands, “What did you mean last time? When you said ‘cute’? Do you like me?”
This is cute, too, Nebula decides. Amusing, how fearless she is, like she has no idea who Nebula is, what she’s capable of. What she’s done. And maybe she doesn’t, not really, given what Nebula knows of her, but she’s been with the Guardians long enough that she should know better by now, should have been warned.
But that almost made it more interesting, that she knows and disregarded it anyways.
“I mean,” Nebula says, circling Mantis like a predator that’s scented blood, “that it’s cute how forward you were. I would call you bold, if it wasn’t so foolish.”
“I don’t think my attraction is foolish.”
“You know who I am? My reputation? They call me the biggest sadist in the galaxy.”
Nebula takes a step closer, still watching Mantis with that unreadable intensity. Mantis doesn’t back away, doesn’t flinch or falter. She returns Nebula’s gaze steadily.
“Peter says you are dangerous. Gamora says to stay away.”
“They’re right to warn you.”
“I’m not afraid of you,” Mantis says, even as Nebula steps closer, nearly overtaking her, and it’s only then that Mantis starts to step back, matching her movements step for step. When Nebula inclines her head, Mantis takes this for curiosity, maybe even some surprise, and continues, “You’ve done nothing to make me fear you. You helped up, on Ego’s planet, and you haven’t hurt anyone when you’ve visited, even though you act like you hate us.”
Nebula makes a short, thoughtful sound. She studies Mantis’s face, looking for any trace of fear behind that determination, any hint of unease or discomfort, but she finds none even as she backs Mantis up against the wall, step by step, slow and deliberate.
How interesting.
“If you were truly interested in hurting me—any of us—you would have already done so.” Mantis has been backed up to the wall now, but she looks no more concerned than she did a few minutes ago—which is to say, not at all. “You have had many opportunities to hurt me, but you haven’t. And I don’t think you will.”
Her confidence is impressive, Nebula will give her that, at least. Mantis’s posture is relaxed as she leans against the wall, but alert; she matches Nebula’s intensity with scrutiny of her own, searching Nebula for…something.
“You’re a strange woman,” Nebula finally says. “Foolish.”
“Brave, I like to think,” Mantis counters, and Nebula’s mouth twitches.
“Both, perhaps.”
“Perhaps.” Mantis is looking at her intently. There’s a funny look in her eye, and it still isn’t fear, but it’s not quite that steady calm, either. It’s closer to excitement, something eager. “I…”
She trails off, and then seems to lose her nerve, which Nebula finds shockingly disappointing. Mantis’s gaze wavers and then drops.
When Mantis doesn’t immediately continue, Nebula prods, not quite mocking, “You were acting so bold a few moments ago. Don’t lose your nerve now.” It comes out more charged than she’s meant it to, than she was expecting, and Mantis’s eyes widen slightly, flick from Nebula’s eyes to her mouth.
“I think,” she says slowly, carefully, “I would like to kiss you.”
Well, that surprises Nebula, though she doesn’t show it. Mantis keeps staring at her, waiting. She considers it briefly, then leans close, ducks her head so she’s eye-level with this strange, bold woman, so full of surprises, says, “All right.”
It’s Mantis’s turn to be surprised. “Really?”
“Yes,” Nebula says, and waits.
Mantis’s hands reach for her, tentative at first, but her movements grow surer when Nebula doesn’t pull away, doesn’t stop her. She only grows more confident when Nebula lets Mantis grab a handful of her leathers. Mantis stares at her for a long moment, half-expecting a last-minute change of mind that doesn’t come, and then she hauls Nebula close by the collar of her jacket and holds her firmly in place.
It’s an awkward kiss, clumsy and rough and a little too brief, but Mantis’s lips are soft and her enthusiasm is strangely charming. And even though she’s not quite sure why she’s entertaining this, indulging Mantis’s desires, Nebula is surprised by how much she enjoys it, and when Mantis break away to catch her breath, Nebula chases her mouth and catches her in another kiss. Mantis makes a surprised noise against Nebula’s mouth that turns into a happy sigh as she kisses her back, hands curling tighter around the front of Nebula’s jacket.
Nebula backs off eventually, watches as Mantis pants, tries again to catch her breath. Her breath is warm against Nebula’s skin, still held in place inches from Mantis’s face by her grip on her jacket. Mantis’s face is warm, flushed a dark red, and her are glowing softly.
“I liked that very much,” Mantis whispers breathlessly. Something in Nebula’s chest flutters.
“It was nice,” Nebula agrees.