Work Text:
Rocket Raccoon was up to his elbows in grease, tools, and ship parts. It was just him and the Milano, his and the Guardians’ starship, and that's how he liked it. Keeping his hands busy, doing his own thing.
At least, that's what he told himself anyways. After all, being busy meant that he didn't have to think.
His keen hearing bought the sound of a repetitive, metallic thump to his ears before he actually saw what was behind it. A trashcan came into view, bouncing around of its own accord. As if this wasn't bizarre enough, this trashcan possessed eyes, a slightly upturned nose, and a mouth. It was also a light purple color.
The lines of his mouth turned downwards into a dour grimace, the raccoon didn't react.
The strange trashcan finally stopped hopping when it was two or so feet away from where Rocket was. The lid suddenly partially flipped up, and one of the handles on the side stretched out, reached inside, and pulled something out. It was a glazed donut resting on a paper plate. “Would monsieur care for an hors d'oeuvre?” The “trashcan" asked in a cartoonishly bad impression of a French accent.
“Oh get out of here, Amethyst.” Rocket grumbled, just barely favoring her with a glance. “Bad enough you eat trash, now you wanna be a trash can?”
The trashcan’s form shifted and blurred. In the blink of an eye, it had coalesced into Amethyst's short, stocky form. “Hey raccoon dude, don't hate on trash! Some of the best meals I’ve had came out of a trashcan.” She blew a few long strands of hair from out of her face. “Anyways, you just gonna sit here and brood, or are you actually gonna fix this thing?" Not bothering to wait for an invitation that she knew would never come, she plopped down beside him.
Rocket rolled his eyes. “It's called working, grape. And no, I'm not gonna fix it, because the schematic they gave me is garbage.” He gesticulated roughly at the stained piece of paper that lay close by. “It's like whoever built this thing had ten thumbs and zero foresight.”
“Oof. That's rough.” Leaning back, she attempted to catch his eye. “Sounds like you know a thing or two about being built without foresight.”
Rocket would have literally snapped at her if he already didn't know how futile it’d be trying to bite a Gem, given that their physical forms were just holograms basically. His annoyance only spiked when he saw her pick up a circuit board and turn it over in her hands, looking at it through half-lidded eyes.
"I'm performing essential ship maintenance, which requires silence and competence, both of which I am currently lacking because you’re breathing near me. I'm not ‘brooding’, I'm protecting my sanity from Quill's terrible taste in music and the incessant babbling of that kid and bird face. Why aren't you hanging out with your friends, anyway? Did they finally get tired of the one that came out wrong?”
If he thought that jab would get rid of Amethyst, then he thought wrong. She merely smiled – a soft, small smile. "Nah. They got tired of me hating being the one that came out wrong."
Rocket snorted. He turned his attention to his toolbox, which lay open at his side, to mask his surprise. "Oh, great. You solved it. Good for you, I guess. So, you're the space rock guru now? Did you write a book, Five Ways to Love Your Flaws?”
Gently, Amethyst set the circuit board back down. "It wasn't a book. It was realizing I spent almost my whole life trying to be something I wasn't. Trying to be this seven-foot-tall serious warrior. Trying to be perfect like the rest of them were supposed to be. And every time I failed, I hated myself more."
She momentarily leaned back on her hands, voice low and completely earnest. "I kept thinking, 'I'm a mistake. I'm trash. I shouldn't exist.' Sounds familiar, huh? But here's the kicker – the other Crystal Gems, my family? They didn't see the mistake. They saw me. They saw the weird little purple one who makes jokes and eats old tacos and can turn into a helicopter.”
"You don't get it! You're a Gem. You’re solid. You were grown in a hole to be exactly what you are. But me? I'm a collection of genetic scrap. I’m a mistake that some sociopath in a lab coat decided to throw together for a laugh. I’m a walking, talking pile of parts that don't belong together!”
"Oh yeah, the whole 'I'm a mistake' routine. Been there, bought the merch. You think you're bad? I'm literally built wrong.”
“It's not about being 'built wrong,' it's about what's inside. You can shapeshift. You can fix that. I can't. I look in the mirror and see a thing stitched together. They gave me enough smarts to know I'm an experiment, and that's all I am."
"And what do you do with that experiment, Rocket? You throw it out with the scrap? No. You took the design they forced on you and started kicking butt and building things nobody else can! You're defined by your actions, not by the lab coat jerk who tagged you.”
"Oh, right. The talent. So I can build things. Means nothing.” He turned his gaze onto the small screwdriver in his hand, twisting it back and forth, focusing on the worn ridged handle. “A machine can build things. That doesn't mean it's... worth anything. I'm smart enough to know I should’ve just stayed locked up in a cage.”
“Okay, so if that's what you honestly think about yourself, why even bother being a hero then?” Amethyst demanded, quirking an eyebrow. “If you're a mistake, then why keep risking your life for the other Guardians? Or the universe?”
Rocket stopped for a beat. "... Because they need me.” He gruffly mumbled at length. “I'm the only one who can fly this tub." He didn't meet her gaze.
"No. You're the one who can build the bombs, fix the warp drives, and talk them out of doing something dumb. Yeah, you're needed. But you also wanna be there! You hang around them because you're scared of being alone. And that's okay. But you keep trying to make them leave first by acting like a jerk, so it won't hurt when they finally figure out the 'mistake' thing.”
“Which, like I told you already,” she added, “is total bunk. You built a bomb out of a toaster and a paperclip once. If that's something that a mistake can do, then trust me, there are a whole bunch of people out there who would love to be mistakes. My only skill when I was starting out was turning into a crying baby and making me and Steven miss a flight once. You win.”
With a growl of frustration, Rocket jumped to his feet. “Augh, fine! You know what? Just... shut up!” He made as though to storm out of the garage bay, but stopped and turned back to face her. He jabbed a sharp claw at her. “And don't you even think about trying to sing at me!” He took off.
Rising to her own feet with a chuckle, Amethyst just watched him go. “See you around, trash panda.” She threw up her hand. “I'm gonna go see if I can find Drax – that dude is hilarious! You got a real good crew there.” Smiling satisfactorily, she left the way she’d originally come.
The Milano seemed to have emptied, until Rocket poked his black-masked head back in. When he was certain she had gone, Rocket walked back over to his workbench. The donut Amethyst had tried presenting him with earlier was still there. He stooped to pick it up before leaving, but that time, actually exited the starship.
Stepping out of the Milano, Rocket was greeted by the crisp scent of a fresh evening breeze. The wind's gentle breath brushed his fur pleasantly. The ship was sitting near the beach. The soft whisper of the waves as the water brushed the shoreline before retreating, only to return was a fascinating constant to Rocket (not that he would ever admit to this). Further off from the spot where he was, a small fire had been started on the beach, and several figures sat around it. The Guardians, the Crystal Gems, and a couple of those humans that liked hanging around them so much. Rocket's family and friends. He could hear the sounds of their chatter, with some laughter occasionally mixed in.
Rocket started down the gangway, then had a seat on the sand (careful to mind the donut in his right hand), still sun-warmed from earlier in the day. Sighing, he allowed his gaze to drift upwards, towards the sky. Sitting there, he absently took a bite out of his donut.
Up there, a glistening field of stars spread across the deep indigo expanse. One of them winked at him -- once, twice, as if to reassure Rocket that from there on out, his days were going to be brighter and better.