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Quill was acting weird. Well, weirder than usual. After what happened with Gamora and Thanos, and even after Counter-Earth and the high evolutionary, Quill was just never really the same. Instead of jumping around excitedly about his stupid Terran music or trying (and failing) to uplift everyone around him with stupid jokes and surprisingly insightful pep talks, he was sad. Depressed might have been a better word. He spent his days getting drunk and sulking, either at the bar or in his bed, not doing much else.
Everyone could see it, who wouldn’t? The usual bright eyed leader of the Guardians of the Flarkin’ Galaxy, nothing more than a sad husk of who he once was.
He was getting better, Rocket supposed. After what Mantis had said to him about family, he started visiting his grandfather on earth, once every thirty cycles or so, and it was helping.
But that was nothing compared to what Rocket was watching right now. He didn’t know if this was the guy he’d been watching drink himself into an early grave this last rotation, or the love struck fool he’d met all that time ago.
“Do you think this still fits me right?” Quill asked as Rocket stared at him. He’d decided to don his old red leather jacket- he hadn’t worn that in ages.
Rocket only shrugged in response not really caring about whether or not it fit him. “Jeez, you’re a real help.” Quill huffed as he adjusted his jacket again, fiddling with the collar.
“What are ya’ even dressing up for, Quill?” Rocket asked, fiddling with some new tech he was working on.
“I’m not dressing up.” He snapped back, way too defensive in Rockets opinion. “I’m just going to Earth.”
Rocket frowned again. Wasn’t Quill just on Earth just a few cycles ago?
“Right…” Rocket didn’t really care what Quill was doing. He didn’t. He just didn’t like how secretive Quill was being.
“Okay..” Quill said after another minute of standing infront of the mirror. “I’m off. You know the drill. Emergency comms only.”
“Uh-huh..”
“You and Nebs are in charge.” Rocket idly followed Quill out towards the Bowie. “I don’t wanna come back to half of Knowhere being blown up again, please.”
“Yeah yeah…” Rocket scoffed. “Go visit your Flarkin’ Grandpa, Quill.”
“I mean it.” He said pointedly as he stepped onto the ship. Quill pressed a few buttons on the side before turning back to Rocket. “See you in a cycle or two.”
Rocket gave a half-assed wave as he walked off, listening to the Bowie start up and take off.
Quill was up to something. He just knew it.
“I’m tellin’ you, Groot. He’s hiding something.” Since that first time, Rocket had watched Quill leave Knowhere more and more often, always with the same excuse of ‘visiting his grandpa’. He tried to ignore it, he really did! But that itch that always formed under his skin whenever Quill did anything weird was getting extremely annoying. He just had to know what he was hiding.
Asking Quill straight up was pointless. The Scutbag had mastered the art of misdirection and always managed to avoid talking about the topic, and there was nothing in his room that even hinted at anything going on.
The only proof that something was happening was Quill’s increasingly more frequent visits toEarth, and his overall mood changing from drunk and depressed idiot to… well… normal.
“I am Groot.”
“No, no. Not a chance in hell.” Rocket dismissed. “He’s hiding something. I know it.”
“I am Groot?”
“I dunno yet, but it’s gotta be something, right?” Rocket crawled out of his chair and pulled out some scrap metal to take back to his bench. “Groot- am I crazy? Am I the only one seeing this?” Groot opened his mouth to reply, but was waved off by Rocket. “Actually, don’t answer that.”
“I am Groot.”
“No! It’s not cause’ I care!” He scoffed. “I couldn’t care less! If that Flarkin’ idiot dove the Bowie nose first into a black hole I’d only care about the ship!” Groot only tilted his head at Rocket, watching as the raccoon huffed and shoved the scrap metal around his bench, not really doing much with it. “I don’t care. I don’t.”
“Rocket?” The unsure voice of Mantis called in through the closed door. Rocket was holed up in his room again, trying to distract himself with more tinkering. Maybe if he gripped the screwdriver enough Mantis might just magically leave him alone. “Rocket..” She called again, slight annoyance in her tone. Nope. Not happening. Go away. “Rocket!”
“Flarkin’ hell, Mantis!” He groaned as he unlocked the door, letting her in. “Whaddaya want? I’m busy.”
“I’m worried about Peter.” She said, stepping over to a small crate in the corner and sitting down, looking at the back of Rocket’s head.
“…okay?”
“Has he spoken to you about anything?”
Rocket scoffed. “Why would he? I don’t care about whatever he’s got going on.”
“But rocket, he’s your best friend!” Mantis stood up and walked over next to Rocket at his bench, looking intently at him. He only sighed and put down his tools, turning to meet her gaze.
“He’s your brother.”
“Yeah well- Peter doesn’t tell me anything! No one tells me anything!”
“We don’t need to tell you anything, Mant. You got your freaky bug powers for that.”
“Ugh!” She groaned, all but slamming her hand on the bench. “Rocket be serious! There’s something going on with Peter and out of everyone, you’re one who he’d tell!”
“Well I’m sorry, but he doesn’t tell me scut.” Rocket spat out. “And I don’t care to know what that idiot has gotten himself into, I really don’t.” He was bitter. It stung a little, not being let into whatever Quill was hiding. After a moment he sighed, letting himself calm down. “Look. If Quill was in trouble, you know he’d tell us.” Mantis looked down and nodded, her annoyance dripping away. “Whatever’s going on… must be something he wants to keep to himself. We gotta…” he paused, taking a breath. “We gotta leave him be. He’ll tell us when he’s ready.” It was clear that what he’d said was good enough for Mantis to calm down, her antennae twitching as she backed off.
“You are right…I suppose.”
“I’m always right,” he mumbled.
After a moment of silence, Mantis walked out, the door shutting behind her and Rocket could finally breathe again. Maybe he should
Take his own advice. Maybe he should just leave Quill be and let him tell everyone in his own time. Yeah, he owed him that much, he supposed. He could wait.
Alright. Rocket’s had enough. It’s been sixty Flarking cycles and Quill has barely been on Knowhere for any of them! Well, that’s an exaggeration, but it’s a warranted one! Every single time he watches Quill fly off on the Bowie the closer he gets to loosing his mind. Groot tried talking him out of it, tried telling him to ‘leave him alone’ or, ‘he’s allowed to keep things to himself’. But Rocket doesn’t listen. He never listens. Not to anyone but himself, and he’s telling himself to follow Quill. It’s not just the annoyance of Quill’s constant absence, it’s not the fact that he takes the Bowie for days at a time and Rocket is left without a ship to tinker on, no. It’s because Quill isn’t telling him. There’s something going on that Quill hasn’t told anyone about. Not even Rocket. And Quill told Rocket everything. Whether he was drunk off his face or not, Quill would dump all his troubles and thoughts and feelings onto the Racoon. But not this. And he’s had enough of being kept in the dark.
Rocket quickly made his way over to the Bowie, slipping into the ship and making his way over to a small hatch in the main deck. Rocket would laugh at the irony of hiding himself in the place he’d hid countless illegal items in the past, if it weren’t for Quill boarding, sauntering past a hidden Rocket and straight into the cockpit, smoothly waking the ship up.
Music filled the ship as it shook and rattled, taking off out of Knowhere. Quill was humming and singing along to the music, which wasn’t something he did much of after everything.
It wasn’t a long trip to Earth, thank Flark for that.
Rocket tried to pass time by observing Quill, looking for anything that indicates what he might be hiding, but he got nothing. Just usual Quill behaviour. Why was he so good at hiding this? In every other situation, Quill couldn’t handle not telling the rest of the guardians about whatever it was that he was doing. Was Rocket stupid? No, no. Absolutely not. That had to be ruled out immediately. Was Rocket wrong? While not ideal, it was more probable than him being stupid. Rocket had been wrong about things before. Not very many times, but still.
This was taking forever. He was exhausted. Stifling a yawn behind his hand, Rocked shifted so he was laying slightly, his tail tucked in close to his body. He was warm… and comfortable enough… would it hurt if he closed his eyes for a second? No… he deduced. It wouldn’t hurt. Only for a second. Yeah.
Rocket was awoken by talking. He heard Quill’s stupid laugh. Right, yeah. He was spying. Quill said something else that Rocket couldn’t make out, but there was a distinct lilt in his voice that Rocket had never heard before. The other voice said something in response, quieter than Quill and- wait. Another voice. Another voice? Rocket quickly pressed up against the hatch, looking out in the small gap to see Quill standing in the middle of the common area with… yeah. Someone else. Quill was blocking them with his body mostly, but even with the sliver he could see, this definitely wasn’t Quill’s grandpa. They were taller, had darker skin compared to Quill, and from what Rocket could gather… Flarkin’ Jacked.
“Well, I’m sure whatever it is he’s sulking about this time isn’t a big deal.” Now that Rocket was awake, he could hear what they were saying.
“You’re right.” The voice was deeper, slightly gravely. Definitely a guy. “He’s just annoyed that I’m not out there ‘working’ right now.”
“Mhm.. I’m glad you’re not working right now..” Rocket watched with increasingly more distain as Quill moved in closer, placing a hand on the guys arm. “I mean… I came all this way, it would be a shame.” The guy moved is hand to Peter’s waist and oh. Oh. Everything made sense now. The mood change. The Secrecy, the Flarkin’ outfits!? Oh no. Rocket can’t sit here and listen to… whatever this was. He might throw up listening to it.
“Oh? Would it now?” The guys voice dipped lower and yep. Nope. Not happening. “Well.. why don’t you-“ as he spoke, Rocket kicked the hatch door open and burst out, causing the guy to jump and Quill to scream.
“Quill! What the Flarkin’ hell!?” Rocket exclaimed. Quill locked eyes with the racoon and glared.
“Rocket! What the hell are you doing here?!” He hissed.
“No- no I’m asking the questions! This -,” he guestured to the guy standing next to Quill, looking not as surprised as he probably should’ve been. “-Is what you’ve been hiding?! A boyfriend ?!”
“Rocket- it’s not- well… yeah…it kinda is… yeah…” Quill looked over to his ‘boyfriend’, both apprehensive and apologetic.
“Scut, Quill. We all thought you were in trouble or something…” Rocket felt like an idiot. How did he not see this coming? How was this not a possibility he even concidered?
“No… no I’m just- Yeah.” Quill’s stammering was starting to annoy him.
Rocket mumbled countless expletives under his breath, before turning his attention towards the guy.
“And you!” He pointed, “who even are you?” Rocket didn’t get an answer right away, as the guy paused, looking between Rocket and Quill a few times.
“Marc?” Quill whispered, leaning in closer.
“What?-“ the guy, Marc, said before leaning in. “Wait. This is real? He’s actually…”
“Yes, baby. The talking racoon is real.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah.”
“Uh..” Marc turned back towards Rocket. “I’m Marc.” His tone was flat, not giving Rocket anything to work off.
“Okay. Marc. ” Rocket spat. “How do you know Quill?” He folded his arms as Quill groaned,
“Rocket. Don’t start.”
“No, no, Quill. I insist. I wanna hear all about it. ” His voice was pointed and tense as he spoke. “After all.. it’s a long ride back to Knowhere.”