The Street Where You Live (Bugborg Week - June 16)
Summary: Nebula is tired of Mantis being an useless student, so she decided that, instead, is going to waster her time with hear with small talk…apparently, none of them are good at speaking in a chill manner.
Relationships: Nebula/Mantis
A/N: Written for day 5 of @bugborgweek2023
Prompt: Based on a song
Word count: 920
CW: parental abuse, childhood trauma, mentions of death
Also on AO3!
Nebula didn’t understand why on Earth she had said yes to this job offer. Yes; she wanted to be able to leave home as soon as possible, and it wasn’t as if she had many talents apart from physical defence and formal etiquette (things that happen when your father is a mafia boss), but she had never been good with nice people of around her age…
Still, there she was, in front of a smiling girl a couple of years younger than herself, sitting in the most uncomfortable position imaginable while wearing green raggedy clothes. Between her posture and the outfit…she got why people called her Mantis. Also, she wished she could be squashed as easy as the insect, since this was already their fourth session and she couldn’t even choose the proper spoon for soup.
Still, she actually felt pity for the girl; all her siblings had died either under mysterious circumstances after having tried to face their father or in the line of duty while trying to make him proud. Mantis’ only reason to still be alive was that the 1920s weren’t exactly a progressive time, and his father wouldn’t allow a girl to either become part of the Army or the Police Forces, nor give her enough free space to get a formed opinion that would make her want to rebel against him.
Nebula hated his father; he was abusive and there was barely anything good to be said about him even outside of how he treated his multiple suspiciously adopted children, but, at least, he valued them having a mind of their own and didn’t care about their gender or interests under the sheets , as he called them.
“Ok, we are getting nowhere and after this I have to go and try to stole a prisoner from my sister so my father actually realised I am the best out of the two of us. Maybe I will kill him, just in case he decides to speak well of Gamora. He won’t be the first idiot falling for her…wonder why” she reflected out loud while sitting down. “…what do you like doing?”
“What do you mean?” the younger lady was clearly perplexed by the question.
“What do you like doing? For example: I like fighting and not having useless conversations”.
“This is a useless conversation, and that is not something you do. That is something you avoid doing…wait, do you only like the stuff your father thought you?”
Nebula scoffed.
“As if you were any different, Miss Perfect Mantis Planet” Mantis lowered her eyes, and Nebula thought she had hurt her with a far too brutal honesty. Then, before she could even form an educated opinion whereas that made her feel good or bad, the other young woman kneeled on the floor and dismantled a couple of wooden panels, to show a complete painting set, showing drawings of faraway lands.
“When I was little, my dad was an ambassador and we travelled a lot . I wish I could travel again…I really don’t care where, though I’ve heard Seville in Spain is really nice and hot; I am tired of London’s clouds. I also draw; feelings, mostly. I just…put the colours where the feelings would go. Of people, or for people. I like to make people feel things ; like I make you be frustrated”.
This shouldn’t have been enough for Nebula to open her absolutely hardened heart but, here was the thing: she was so unused to people being honest without being scared of her, or purposely cruel to her, that the difference was enough for her to do something that would commonly be absolutely out of character for her.
“Yeah, you are pretty good at this…I…I might like when…when I got people that also want my classes, but the self-defence ones, the crap that is actually fun and not only for appearances. Especially when it is when actual kids, not like you, I…think I kind of like kids”.
“I do too, but at a distance. Except for the girl of my bodyguard. She is really kind, and strong. Maybe you would get along. See? They are here” she pointed at a painting of a very muscular man with a woman and child, not small by any measures either. It was painting in warm, peaceful colours.
“Wait, why is it in this colours? Your bodyguard is pretty infamous for his violent temper and this, this brings me…”
“…peace, I know. Because that is who he really is, but don’t get it mistaken: there is also some aggressiveness painted into it. The only reason you don’t get it is because it is already too deep within you, but, don’t worry. I think your palette wouldn’t be as violent as you think either. Maybe…yes, a lot of blue”.
“A lot of blue for the murderous ginger? Yeah, sure”.
“Yes, sure . Now, let’s talk illegal, it’s always fun” she sat somehow in an even more uncomfortable position and, holding her head in between her hands, asked “what was your favourite place to go drink while pretending to be within legal age? I need names”.
Nebula contained a cackle and answered. Perhaps, this class would be a bit longer than usual.
Back on the street, Nebula observed the panel with the name of the street in which the Planet Household was situated “Gunn Street”.
She let a sight scape. She would be walking around said street much more from that moment on.