Roquill prompt; one gets hurt protecting the other.
A few hours after he had been moved from the medbay to his own bed, Peter did some mental estimation on how much time each Guardian had spent at his side, taking care of his needs and indulging him down to his most ridiculous requests. Mantis had done the most for him, what with her trick that didn’t exactly eliminate pain, but made him stop noticing it. The others had run back and forth fetching what he needed, or sitting nearby to keep him company…with one very conspicuous exception.
During a few moments when he was alone, he entered an override on the intercom system to eavesdrop. It didn’t take long at all to find Rocket’s voice, threaded with Gamora’s on the bridge.
She was angry: “Just go in there and check on him! He’s been asking for you. And don’t pretend you need to be piloting right now!”
Rocket’s emotions were harder to identify. “He’s fine. You said he was fine. I don’t need to see for myself.”
“You do need to show him you care about him. Honestly, Rocket! This is Peter we’re talking about! Your–”
“I ain’t goin’ in there!” Rocket cut in with startling vehemence. “Maybe…uh…maybe later. Tell me when he’s asleep.”
There was a pause before Gamora hissed, “I won’t tell you anything. You should be ashamed of yourself. After what he did for you!”
Her exit was audible, boots stomping across the hard floor and out the hatch. Clearly there was nobody else in the room but Rocket, because in another moment, the sound of his breathing changed. Peter could hear sniffling and a few sad little gasps as Rocket kept on with whatever he was doing. It was too much to bear; Peter switched the comm off and lay back on his pillows.
His wound in his side was throbbing again, but before asking for Mantis, he called in Groot. The young tree, six feet tall and resembling his sire more every day, blinked guilelessly at Peter as he made his request. “Could you tell Rocket I don’t blame him?”
“I am Groot?” Matters of communication still seemed to perplex him, sometimes. Why couldn’t Peter tell Rocket that himself? Was the intercom system broken?
Peter was patient about it. “I know, but he’ll believe it if it comes from you. Just go find him and say it, okay Groot? Tell him it’s not his fault.”
As soon as Groot left, Peter closed his eyes, finally feeling like he could relax. He let his side keep hurting, reasoning he shouldn’t risk an overdose on empathy, but drifted into sleep anyway, not knowing it until the door sliding open woke him up.
“Hi,” said Peter. His eyes had opened facing the wall, but he knew it was Rocket, even after getting no response to his greeting. He didn’t turn around to add, “Come here. What are you doing? Come over here.”
Rocket didn’t move much closer, but he did finally speak, his voice husky and hesitant. “You’re alright?”
Peter rolled his head around to look at him. “Yeah I’m alright. Just lonely. Where the hell have you been?”
“Takin’ care of stuff. I…” He fidgeted, scratching his arm, then blurted out, “This is your own fault, you know that? Jumpin’ in front of me like that. You freakin’ idiot.”
“Rocket. That shot would have killed you. I timed it right and all I got was an ouchy spot that’ll go away in a few days. It’s a fair trade.”
Rocket was shaking his head violently from side to side, tears forming at the corners of his eyes. “No, you shoulda just…you shoulda…” He rubbed a furious hand across his face. “It is my fault, you can’t say it’s not.”
“Fine,” said Peter. He couldn’t reach out quite far enough to touch Rocket, and it was starting to exasperate him. “So make it up to me. I mean, I was kind of hoping you’d take advantage of me in my weakened state, but if that’s a no-go you could at least bring me some pie. Or, like, find some new music we could play. Shit, man, you know what kind of stuff I like, use your imagination.”
Ears twitching, Rocket took one half-step forward, then hesitated again. “Can I stay in here?”
“Are you deaf?” Peter complained. “Don’t make me get up and drag you into bed, I’ll pull my stitches.”
With a wheezing little laugh, Rocket finally hoisted himself up and let Peter put an arm around him. They lay there quietly for a moment, and Peter had the fully contented thought that he might fall asleep again soon.
Before he did, though, he felt Rocket turning around to face him, and opened his eyes to a solemn dark gaze in the furry mask. “I’m sorry,” Rocket whispered.
“I’m not,” Peter replied. He kissed his nose, yawned, and tugged his blanket up to cover both of them. “Fair trade.”
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