couldn’t sleep || post vol 2. drabble
{☆} With a S H U D D E R, Gamora’s breath was visible in the cold cocoon that was her quarters. She always kept her quaint chambers at near F R E E Z I N G--it was easier to sleep that way. It was a belief held by her that she could always get warm when she was too C O L D, but it was much harder to cool down when she was too H O T.
Still, as she shook out of her uneven S L E E P, she discovered a thin bead of sweat dripping down the side of her face. The baggy t-shirt that she had S N A T C H E D from the ship’s laundry clung to her body in a sweaty glaze. The room was dark, illuminated only by the few buttons and monitors. Her hand found her head, trying to cease the headache that was beginning to form behind her eyes--though when her bare leg grazed against something warm, she nearly jumped.
Glancing over, her eyes landed on M A N T I S, curled up on the side closest to the wall, with her knees tucked close to her chest. Her antennae moved slowly with each quiet B R E A T H. Gamora couldn’t remember when the empath had made her way into her quarters, but she supposed that she didn’t completely M I N D. So long as she made her way out before the others saw her leaving the A S S A S S I N’ S quarters and made their idiotic jokes and assumptions. But--she wasn’t alone.
Drax was spread out on the floor, S N O R I N G vivaciously, his huge form moving up and down like a M O U N T A I N. What the hell was going on here? She knew that things were more than a little bit T E N S E after their battle with the Sovereign and Ego. Everyone was S H A K E N up, and understandably so. They had suffered a B L O W that no one had even dreamed P O S S I B L E.
Gamora laid back down, but not before she caught Rocket and Groot, curled up at the foot of the bed. Rocket’s arm was around Groot, protectively--as if he could protect him even in S L U M B E R. As her head hit her pillow, she turned her face to see Peter, sweat sliding down his face and neck. Even in sleep, he looked as though he was still battled E G O. His brow was furrowed, his lips curled to the side with a silent sneer. The Zen Whoberi sighed and turned on her side, sliding his arm beneath her, and throwing her arm over his chest. Nuzzling her face against his chest, Gamora tried to return to sleep.
It felt like it was only Y E S T E R D A Y that they gave Yondu the B U R I A L befitting him. And, it had only been a D A Y. Yondu died to S A V E him, and everyone had come to posthumously accept the Ravager as one of their O W N. Ego may have biologically conceived Peter, but it was Yondu who raised him--showed him how to adapt and G R O W. To be a good man. In turn, Yondu’s sacrifice saved Gamora. She didn’t know what she would do had Peter died. And for that, she found that she would be eternally G R A T E F U L. He was a H E R O, a G U A R D I A N--and they would all mourn his loss.
Peter turned over with a grunt, casting a hazy gaze at Gamora, though his sneer was replaced by a sleepy S M I L E. Her lips quirked up gently, patting his chest with her small hand, until it was laced with his hand.
They whispered like C H I L D R E N before Christmas, trying to decipher what could be awaiting them beneath the tree. Despite the fact that there was no R E A S O N to whisper. Everyone else was D E A D asleep. Lost to their own dreams.
“Why is your room so goddamn H O T?”
Gamora let out a quiet snort, punctuated by the loud R U M B L E S of Drax.
“Just go back to sleep, Peter. I’m H E R E.”
She had closed her eyes, but not before she felt the graze of his lips against her hair, soft and subtle before his breathing evened back out into slumber. They weren’t just F R I E N D S. They were F A M I L Y. And if they needed to sleep in her room--who was she to say N O?
What could she say? She L O V E D the idiots.
