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Rocket was used to pain. It was there from some of his earliest memories, when Lylla had comforted him and cleaned his stitches after his earliest surgeries. The first word he'd ever said had been 'hurts', before he or any of his old family had even had names, and it was always going to be with him in some form for as long as he lived.
There was usually something or other acting up, and Rocket had gotten good at hiding it over the years. Groot, the old Groot, had known him well enough to understand when he was hurting. He had known just as well to keep his mouth shut about it if he didn't want to start a weeks-long argument. That arrangement had worked perfectly, at least for Rocket.
He had never thought he would let anybody close enough for that to be a problem again. It wasn't his fault he'd let Quill get so close. It had just kind of happened. Nobody could get under his skin the way Quill did, and nobody could see through to his heart the same way either. Letting himself share that bond with Quill, being in a relationship with him, was terrifying. Knowing how easily he could lose Quill, the same way he'd lost everyone he ever let close...
That hole left in him from all the people he had lost may have been too deep to ever fill, but his choices were between pushing everyone away and dying alone, or taking the risk and opening himself up just a little bit and letting love in. Even if it meant he might lose them some day, might lose Quill some day, at least he could say he'd tried.
Rocket leaned on the table, ignoring the fiery lance of pain in his back. "Get over yourself, Quill," he said. His stupid back had been flaring up all week, the first time since he and Quill had started 'dating', as Quill called it, and so far he'd managed to keep it hidden. "You didn't even look that cool."
They were in one of the bars on Contraxia where people didn't ask questions or judge if a Terran and a cybernetic freak wanted to have a quiet romantic evening after spending their afternoon at the card tables.
Quill grinned, stuffing another of what he insistently called fries in his mouth. "I saw you admiring me, man," he said. Fries was one of those annoying Quill-isms that had gotten into Rocket's head, and now he couldn't even remember the much less appetising but more logical name they were actually called. "Besides, I'm allowed to strike a cool pose after fighting an army of robots. I earned it. It's not every day you fight seven hundred robots."
Rocket shifted, wincing at another jolt of pain. "There weren't seven hundred of 'em," he said. "There were sixty-three, and I killed twenty of 'em. Those robots you were standin' on pretendin' you looked cool with the wind in your hair and stuff? That pile was mine, dude. Not yours. And I wasn't 'admiring' you, dumbass. I was just..." his ears flushed with warmth. Quill had looked pretty damn cool up there. "I was just askin' myself why I put up with you."
"Oh yeah?" Quill asked through a smirk Rocket might have wanted to punch if he wasn't head over heels for Quill. "And why's that?"
"'Cause you're payin' tonight, Quill," Rocket said, tail curling around himself. Maybe he should have suggested they go to Knowhere instead. Going through the cold on the way into the bar had just made his back worse. He'd already hit his usual limit for drinks and it hadn't done anything to dull the pain. If he drank any more he'd just wind up starting a fight with Quill and damaging what they had.
Their relationship was still new enough that he didn't know how much damage it could take. And sure, something like him didn't deserve to be with someone like Quill, but he wanted to anyway. For however long they could make this work before it fell apart, or one of them died.
"Hey, a gentleman always treats his date," Quill said, trading his smirk for a grin. "Especially when that date's as handsome as-"
"Dude," Rocket said, grimacing. 'Handsome' was laying it on thick even for a notorious charmer like Quill. There were a lot of words that fit him better, like 'freakish' or 'wretched'. "Don't say crap like that. How many times do I gotta say I hate hearin' it?"
Quill shrugged. "Doesn't make it any less true," he said. "What's with you tonight?"
"The hell's that supposed to mean?" Rocket said. He crossed his arms, keeping his ears pinned forward despite the new spasm of pain the movement sent through his back.
"I mean you're acting weird," Quill said. "Not your usual 'totally having a good time but I'm gonna be Rocket about it' kind of weird. You keep making that face like the place smells weird or something. It's... I mean, it's weird but it's not that kind of weird." He held his hand out halfway across the table, giving Rocket one of those stupid earnest looks that had made him fall for Quill in the first place. "You can tell me if you're not having a good time, man. If it's the place we won't come back. If it's something I said, or..."
"I'd tell you if you were bein' stupid," Rocket said. He could never look Quill in the eye when he was making that face, any more than he could reach across and take his hand. "Dude, quit bein' dramatic. You're the one actin' weird."
"Because I want to make sure my boyf-" Quill cut himself off. "My partner's having a good time?" He always made the effort to use Rocket's preferred word for what they had going on. 'Partner' made a lot more sense than boyfriend. "There's nothing weird about that, Rocket. It's pretty normal. You know, we have a saying on Earth."
"Here we go," Rocket said. "You know the only thing from Earth that doesn't suck is the music."
"And me," Quill said patiently.
Rocket smirked. "I know what I said." He gestured for Quill to get on with it.
"It takes two to tango," Quill said. He shrugged. "It's a dance."
"I don't like dancin'," Rocket lied. Dancing was fine, even fun, but he'd only tried it once when he managed to steal Quill's Zune for a few hours and hide away in his room. Dancing with Quill, like a couple in one of his Terran movies? He didn't have the guts for it.
"Look at it this way," Quill said. "It's a lousy date if I'm having a good time and you're not. It's a terrible dance if I'm dancing and you're just standing there." He exhaled softly, pulling his hand back. "So... you're not tango-ing with me here and I don't know if it's because you don't like how I'm doing the steps, or if you don't like the place, or if there's something else on your mind, or what, and it's kind of driving me crazy." He frowned. "Which... isn't the first time we've had that problem. Like, you never talk about where you're from or what you've been through, and then you get mad when I do something I didn't know I shouldn't do because you never told me you hate water, or you don't like how antiseptic stuff smells, or-"
"Shut up," Rocket snapped. "You wanna know if I'm havin' a good date?" He stood in his seat, his back cracking painfully as he straightened. He could regret it later. "I ain't. I was, but now you're bein' a dick, dude. I keep tellin' you to drop it. So how about you mind your own business, and-"
"Okay, okay," Quill said, raising his hands in surrender. "Fine, it's off the table for tonight. Just... all I'm asking for is for you to be a little more open with me. That's it."
As if it was so easy. On the other hand, from Quill's perspective being with him had to be a real chore. Not only was he dating an ugly little creep with an attitude problem, that creep never told him anything.
Rocket sighed. "Whatever, fine," he muttered. "You want me to be open? I ain't havin' a good time tonight. And... look, I was really tryin' but it just ain't workin'. And it ain't your fault, so don't get all mopey about that."
"That's a start," Quill said. He mimed wiping sweat off his forehead. "And that's a little pressure off. I really wanted this evening to be good for you, man. The last thing I want is to screw things up between us." He hesitated. "What's wrong?"
Rocket stared into his empty glass. "It really ain't your business," he said softly. How could Quill be as afraid of screwing this up as he was? He had to know he was so far out of Rocket's league it wasn't even funny. "But... if you're gonna be a whiny baby about it, then... my back hurts today. Bad."
Quill's brow furrowed. There may as well have been cogs turning in his head. He had to be thinking back to when he and Rocket had been in the Kyln together.
Rocket's heart sank. He had done his best to keep his back hidden since then, to keep Quill from being reminded of the scars and metal. There was enough ugly everywhere else on him already. Even the man that made him thought so. 'Cobbled together by fat-fingered children'... he felt it in the way his body fit together when he moved, in the aches and pains nobody had put in the effort to fix because he was never supposed to live anyway.
And here he was, dragging that out in front of his partner? It was like he was trying to make Quill leave him.
Quill broke the silence, speaking softly.
"It's not just today, is it?"
Rocket cocked his head. "What?" he asked. He didn't know what he had expected Quill to say, but it wasn't that. He didn't even know what he had wanted to hear.
"Your back," Quill said. He frowned. "It's been a few days, hasn't it? And I didn't even put the pieces together." He exhaled forcefully. "Damn it, I should have noticed."
"You didn't notice 'cause it ain't your problem," Rocket said. He glared at Quill, hackles raised. "I told you what's goin' on so you'd quit bein' all Quill about it. Now how about we pay our tab and go back to the ship?" He swallowed nervously, and his voice cracked when he spoke again. "And try this again next week?"
Quill sighed. "Yeah, okay," he said. His eyes lit up. "Or... Rocket, how much do you trust me?"
Rocket scowled. "A hell of a lot less after you asked that," he said. "Why's it matter?"
"Because, it so happens I might know a trick or two to help you out," Quill said. He had a dangerously hopeful look in his eyes. "But I know you're... touchy about your back."
"I ain't touchy," Rocket snapped. His tail swished in irritation, sending another twinge through his back. "I just don't like people touchin' me, dude. You pokin' and proddin' me'd just make it worse."
"Or better?" Quill suggested. "Because I happen to know a thing or two about massages, from..." he grimaced. "Okay, I learned it because it was a hit with women. I won't lie there. But I know a massage can really help with pain. So I'm asking as your partner, your friend, and your captain... will you let me help you?"
Rocket looked down at his empty glass again. He didn't want Quill's help, or at least he told himself he didn't. All his life he had toughed this out on his own. He had never let Groot do anything to help, even though he had known Groot wanted to. He almost felt guilty about it now. Quill gave it a good spin. There was something about the way he said it, the way he so obviously wanted to do something to help but just as obviously would accept it if Rocket didn't let him. Would accept Rocket on his own terms and respect his wishes, because like the big dumb sap he was he cared about Rocket's feelings.
It was hard for Rocket to find ways to show Quill how he felt. If he let Quill do his massage thing, not because he needed help but because letting Quill help was a way of showing he cared, maybe that would be a step in the right direction.
Relationships... no, love was built on those gestures. He had seen that time after time from Groot, from Drax reaching out to comfort him after he lost Groot, from Lylla cleaning his stitches whenever he came back from surgery, and from Quill in so many ways now that they were together. A different kind of love (if he was brave enough to call it that) than he had shared with anyone before, but that same principle held.
Avoiding those gestures had become a habit over the years, burying his feelings under pain and bitterness. Every hand offered in kindness carried the echo of that first time, seared into his heart by the pain of loss.
Maybe that hole in him wasn't empty, the way he had thought it was. Maybe he had let it fill with pain and sadness and anger because it was better than being empty after everything good had drained out of him.
But emptiness and pain weren't his only two choices anymore.
Rocket sighed. "Fine," he said. "How do we..." he shrugged. "You know. How do we do massage?"
Quill laughed. "Man, you don't even know what a massage is, do you?" He waved over one of the service bots. "Step one is we book ourselves a private room for an hour or two, and then-"
"Why do we need a room for it?" Rocket said, cocking his head. "What'd I sign up for here?"
That just got Quill laughing again. "Rocket, a massage is just... like, a backrub," he said. "I mean, it's way more than that but it's hard to say it much better." He gave his most trustworthy smile. "Like, a backrub that pushes all that pain right out. Hopefully."
Rocket folded his arms. "You better not make me regret this."
Getting a private room was pretty easy. They charged by the hour, but they also sterilised the room after every customer left. Getting there was a real drag. Walking made the pain worse, and seeing those concerned looks Quill was giving him the whole way sent a weird mix of anger and sympathy through him.
As much as he hated that sappy crap, seeing how his pain seemed to hurt Quill too added an emotional sting to the ache. That was something he hadn't expected. Maybe he should have. Maybe he would have seen the same thing in Groot if he hadn't been so wrapped up in his own problems back then. Or in Lylla, and Teefs, and Floor, if he hadn't been so young. Or in any of his new family, if he had opened up to them the way he had to Quill.
Maybe that was part of love.
Once they were in the room Quill closed the door behind them.
Rocket let himself slouch, groaning as he crossed the room to the table by the wall. The room carried the scent of artificial citrus covering up the unpleasant smell of whatever cleaning solution they used to sterilize the place.
"Uh, you're supposed to use the bed, man," Quill said.
Rocket glared back at him. "Too soft," he said. "I hate beds."
"Right, I forgot," Quill said. He caught up to Rocket. "Mr. My Bed Is A Slab Of Metal. You wonder why your back hurts."
"Idiot," Rocket muttered. His back screamed in protest as he pulled himself up onto the table. It was far enough from the window that he didn't have to worry about anybody seeing him, but he still had a view of the overcast sky threatening snow, and some of the neon signs on the street outside.
He stared at Quill expectantly. "So how's this work?"
Quill cleared his throat. "There's two ways we can do this, Rocket," he said. "If you take off your shirt, or... the top half of your jumpsuit, I guess, it'll probably work better. But you don't have to. I mean, it's not like I'm using any kind of massage oil or anything so..." He shrugged. "It's your choice."
Rocket huffed. "Uh-huh," he said. It made some kind of sense it would be easier for Quill if he could actually see what he was working with, and feel it without any fabric in the way. It wasn't like Quill hadn't technically seen it all before, either. Literally the day they'd met the Nova Corps had kicked him naked into the same changing room as Quill.
He'd come this far already. What was a little more trust?
He stared at the wall while he unzipped his jumpsuit down to the waist and unbuckled his harness. With a sigh, he de-magnetised his blaster from his back and set it down off to the side. He already felt naked without it on him.
Rocket chanced a glance Quill's way while he pulled his jumpsuit open at the front, peeling it down over his shoulders. Part of him had wanted Quill to look disgusted by him, the same way he felt every time he looked in a mirror.
But Quill wasn't disgusted. There was a lot going on his eyes. Sympathy, yes, but also respect. And... he seemed to like what he was seeing. Not even in a creepy leering way, but in an affectionate way. Nobody had ever looked at Rocket like this before, with... he wasn't even sure what the right word for those feelings playing out over Quill's face was, but it was obvious that this was something big for Quill.
Stupid respectful Quill even had the decency to look a little guilty about seeing Rocket this way, knowing how he felt about his body... but then again wasn't that half of what Rocket loved about him? Nobody ever fought him the way Quill did, but in all the galaxy there was no one else who could make him feel this way.
Rocket looked away again as he finished taking the jumpsuit the rest of they way down to his waist. "Guess I gotta turn around, huh?" His heart was beating faster. He was exposed, vulnerable in a way he had he had never willingly made himself before.
"I mean, it is a back massage, after all," Quill said. "Actually, you should probably be lying down for this."
Rocket sighed. "Fine," he said. He shifted his position, lying face-down on the table. It was cool under him, the fine-grained synthetic wood smooth and carrying the same faint citrus scent as the rest of the room."Like this?"
"Perfect," Quill said. "I think we're good to go." He reached into his pocket, pulling out his Zune. "But first, music." He put one earbud in his own ear and offered the other to Rocket.
Rocket took it, putting it in his ear. After a few seconds Don't Worry Baby started. He let out a breath. How was this the song he needed to hear right now? How had Quill known that when he hadn't known himself? He'd never even told Quill it was one of his favourites, that it made him think of Quill.
"Alright, I'm starting in a second," Quill said. "Your back looks... angry today."
"Yeah, yeah," Rocket said. He couldn't help his back tensing in anticipation, or his tail swishing. His claws dug into his fists. "If this doesn't help, you owe me."
He shuddered as one of Quill's hands settled against his side, warm and firm. The other settled on his shoulder for a moment, smoothing his fur down. Caressing him.
Then Quill's thumb pressed into his back, sending an all-too-familiar jolt of pain down his spine... and a not entirely unwelcome tingling through his body.
Rocket gasped.
Quill stopped, pulling his thumb back. "If you want me to stop at any point, all you need to do is say."
Rocket nodded. "I know, dumbass," he said. Even without Quill saying, that was just who he was. But he appreciated Quill saying it anyway. "Just... be careful. I ain't been touched there in a long time."
Quill put his thumb to work again in smooth circular motions, pressing firmly into Rocket's exposed skin right by where his spinal implant jutted out of him.
The initial pain wasn't anything Rocket hadn't felt a thousand times before, made all the easier to deal with by Quill's warmth and just how close he was. But under the pain, it felt good somehow.
When Quill brought the rest of his hand into it, kneading his fingers into the tender, scarred flesh, it felt even better. Bit by bit the tension in Rocket's back slipped away. Here and there Quill hit a stubborn knot, patiently working it out. Every time he did the feeling hovered on the edge of pain, only to melt away into a sweet relief under his practiced hands.
It wasn't just the big pains that had been bothering him this past week, either. The countless small aches that Rocket had gotten so used to over the years he almost forgot they were there seemed to disappear. All those places the metal under his skin pinched, or chafed against his back muscles, or pressed into him if he moved wrong.
Rocket let out a soft groan, staring out the window as snow began to drift lazily down past it. He didn't deserve this, any more than he deserved Quill. How could someone look at all the worst parts of him, and still treat him so lovingly? How could his back, that disgusting reminder of everything he had been through, the part that ached most, feel so good when it had been hurting for so long?
His eyes slid closed. It didn't matter what he deserved right now. He had this. He had Quill. His heart slowed to a steady tempo as he found himself relaxing under Quill's touch. Every now and then one of Quill's hands would sneak up for a quick scratch behind Rocket's ear, or to run through his fur.
He nuzzled against Quill's hand when it brushed his cheek. Time slid by as one song ran into the next, and Quill drove that pain further and further away. How had Rocket gotten by before? He had always felt weak for letting a little pain bother him when he'd had so much in his life he should have been used to it, but now that the pain was just the barest flicker on the edges of his nerves he realised how bad it had really been.
"How's it feel?" Quill asked softly.
"Less talkin', more workin'," Rocket said, his voice lower than he'd meant it to be. It was so easy to let his pain melt away under Quill's loving hands. Something he hadn't felt in a long time settled in his chest, a feeling he'd forgotten.
Contentment. None of those pains were gone forever, but they were gone for now.
"That good, huh?" Quill said. Rocket could practically hear his grin. "I told you I was good at this."
Rocket smiled. "If you were half as good at bein' captain as you are at this, we'd all be rich enough to retire."
"Yeah, but then we'd all get bored," Quill said. He brushed his hand over one of the metal protrusions from Rocket's spinal implant, the warmth momentarily gone. "Can you feel that?"
Rocket shrugged. "Kinda," he said. "Felt you pressin', didn't feel any warmth or whatever. Don't touch that again, dude."
"Sorry," Quill said. He worked his hand lower, to where Rocket's scars met his fur. "How's the pain?"
"It's gone," Rocket said. He let out a sigh, moving around a little to see if it came back. It didn't. "Guess you're good for somethin' after all."
"Am I good for you?" Quill said. He took his hand off Rocket's back, leaving a lingering warmth.
Rocket groaned. "And the moment's gone," he said. Which wasn't true, but he knew all too well that it wouldn't last forever. He turned to face Quill, managing to meet his eyes. While this lasted, he wanted to show Quill just how much he meant.
If he waited, he'd lose his nerve.
Rocket stood. "So, Quill," he said. "We got this room a while longer. You still wanna tango with me?"
"Hell yeah," Quill said. He had that look he got sometimes when Rocket managed to let his guard down just a little more than he had before, like he was the luckiest man in the galaxy. "Except I never actually learned how to."
Rocket laughed. "Why ain't I surprised?" he said. He reached for Quill's Zune, plucking it out of his pocket. "Sometimes I think you're just makin' up half of the crap you say about Earth."
Quill leaned over to watch him scroll through songs. "It's all true, I swear," he said.
"Liar," Rocket said affectionately. He pressed down on the screen and Ring of Fire started. He tucked the Zune back into Quill's pocket. "So... make somethin' up, will you? I ain't gonna be in the mood for dancin' all day."
Quill held out his hand with a grin. "May I have this dance?"
Rocket rolled his eyes. "Oh, didn't realise we were gonna be fancy about it," he said. He took a breath to steady himself before putting his hand in Quill's. Quill had reached out to him today in more ways than one, and accepting it had felt good.
It didn't wash away all those times he had hurt his friends, Quill most of all, by turning them away, and he knew he would hurt them again in the future. But it was a small step in the right direction.
Rocket let Quill lead, following his movements at first. He felt stiff, awkward, wrong, but not bad. When he stopped copying how Quill moved and went with what felt right for him, it was a little better. He wasn't much of a dancer, but maybe someday he'd be better at it. Not that Quill was very good, but he moved with the ease of someone that was comfortable in his own skin.
When the song came to an end, Quill rested a hand on Rocket's cheek. His other hand was on Rocket's back, caressing fur and scars alike as if they were both beautiful. He leaned in closer to Rocket, pulling him in for an embrace.
Rocket's heart sped up again. He hadn't let Quill hold him close in all the time they had been together. His brain screamed for him to find a reason to stop now. One day this would be just another memory to haunt him, like so many he already had. Like Lylla.
Rocket let Quill hold him. This was going to be something he remembered for the rest of his life, and even if it became just another scar some day he still wanted to carry it with him as long as he lived. He put his own arms around Quill, leaning against him.
This had turned out to be a pretty good date after all.