Escape: A Peter/Gamora ficlet
(A/N: Spoilers for Guardians of the Galaxy Vol 1 & 2. Is anyone else dying to know the story of drunken Peter telling Gamora about David Hasselhoff? Here’s my headcanon of how it went.)
“If you like piiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiña coladas!”
Gamora lifted her head from the book between her slender fingers and glanced with mild annoyance at the off-key exclamation that had just come from outside of her hotel room door. Her lips threatened to smile, but she refused to, despite being in her room where no one would see it. It was the principle of the thing, after all. She wouldn’t admit even to herself that Peter Jason Quill could be amusing on rare occasions.
“Getting’ caaaaaaught in the rain!” Peter’s voice continued. “If you’re not into yogaaaaaaa! If you have half a brain!”
Gamora snapped the book shut and stood up as she heard a fumbling, scratching sound. She pressed the button to slide the door open and affixed her lovely face into a bemused look. “Peter, what are you doing?”
Peter Quill abruptly stopped his caterwauling and blinked a few times. “Oh. Hey, G’mora. Whatcha doin’ in my room?”
As soon as he spoke, she caught a wave of alcohol fumes. It made sense. They’d just gotten paid for another job and the boys’ idea of celebrating was flying to the nearest habitable planet and getting completely trashed, spending most of their score, and bickering with each other. Baby Groot had curled up on a pillow on Gamora’s sofa, mumbling in his sleep every so often. Judging by his dilated pupils and shaky footing, Peter was all but three sheets to the wind.
“Your room is behind you,” Gamora said patiently. “That’s why the key card didn’t work.”
“Oh, man,” he said, his face falling with actual regret, to her surprise. “M sorry, G’mora, I didn’t mean to wake you up. I’m such a jerk.”
“Usually, yes,” she said frostily. “But not in this case. I wasn’t asleep. I was reading. However, you might want to apologize to the hallway full of guests who had to hear your shrill voice through the walls.”
“You’re so right,” he agreed, and then tilted his head to bellow, “SORRY, EVERYBODY! DIDN’T MEAN TO WAKE YOU UP!”
“SHUT UP!” someone shouted back.
Gamora palmed her face. “Peter. Your room. That way.”
“Right, right, right. Sorry. G’night, G’mora.” He swiveled on his heel and walked up to the door. She watched him try to slide the card in eight times before finally sighing to herself and closing her own door. She snatched it out of his hand and placed it inside the hole. The door whooshed open and Peter stumbled inside, but not before turning and giving her an admittedly adorable smile.
“You’re a life saver, beautiful.”
She shook her head and caught his hand, dragging him towards the bed. “You need sleep or you will be too hungover to fly us out of here in the morning.”
“Well, one thing you’ll find out about me is that I bounce back like that.” He tried to snap his fingers on his free hand. “That. No, that. C’mon. That.”
Gamora sighed. “I will never understand why you find this infuriating state of intoxication so enjoyable.”
“Rocket said I couldn’t out-drink him,” Peter said defensively. “He was wrong. I won.”
“Did you have to buy every round to prove him wrong?”
“Then no, you didn’t win. Rocket just wanted free drinks.”
Peter scowled. “Little trash panda.”
Gamora again refrained from smiling as she continued pulling the sheets down. She turned and helped him out of his red leather jacket. She felt his gaze on her and ignored it, brushing it off even though she felt her skin warming over her face and neck, over her shoulders, and in the tips of her fingers. Her heart beat mocked her with its accelerated pace. She tried to picture him as a child getting ready for bed, but it didn’t work. He was too close, too warm, and under the scent of alien beer was a rather nice, mild cologne.
He lifted his arms as she pulled off his outer shirt, still strangely silent and watching her fold it and set it on the nearby couch. Finally, when she turned around, he made a move.
She stiffened, having expected something else. Stranger still, it was completely wonderful. He kept his hands on the small of her back and buried his nose behind her ear and into her dark hair. She hadn’t been held in years. Decades. Not since her parents. Gamora had lovers in the past, but none of them were permitted to touch her that way. This…it was affection, not lust.
And it scared her even more.
“You’re so good to me,” Peter mumbled with a sigh. “I don’t deserve it. I’m sorry.”
She shut her eyes for a second. “Peter…”
“No, really. Thank you, G’mora. I know I get on your nerves all the time. S’ just ‘cause I like you. You’re pretty and smart and so much stronger than me. Dunno how you do it.”
Gently, she settled her hands on his chest and pushed until she could meet his gaze. God, his eyes were all for her, like there was nothing else in the entire cosmos. No one had ever been foolish enough to do such a thing. Maybe that was why he did. Peter Quill defied everything, and her expectations most of all.
Heart in her throat, she smiled weakly. “Guess that’s just how my father raised me.”
She led him over to the bed and pushed him to sit. He obeyed and she knelt, unlacing his boots. “Bet he was a great guy. Probably smart like you too. Y’know, when I was a kid growing up and everybody else had a dad and I didn’t, I used to pretend that he was this famous actor.”
Gamora’s brown eyes widened and flicked up at Peter’s face. She’d never heard him say much about his father since they left Xandar. She’d gently tried to ask about his life before Yondu abducted him, but he wouldn’t talk about it. She licked her lips, unsure of how to proceed. She wanted to know, but she also didn’t want to invade his privacy while he was drunk. Eventually, she softened her voice and kept unlacing his boot.
“David Hasselhoff,” Peter slurred. She frowned, unsure if that name was correct or if his drunken state had altered it somewhat. “He was this German icon. He could sing and dance and his biggest success was this TV show with a talking car called Knight Rider. It was the coolest thing I ever saw.”
He fumbled for a second and pulled a slip of paper out of his pants pocket. She took it, examining the square-jawed, fluffy-haired man that he apparently idolized. “Why him?”
Peter shrugged. “He’s the coolest man alive. Who wouldn’t want him for a dad?”
“No,” she said softly, rising and sitting beside him. “Why tell the others it was him? Why not just pretend on your own?”
“I don’t know. Guess I just ran with what my mother used to tell me, that my Dad was perfect and not like all the other people on earth. Hasselhoff sounded like a good option at the time.”
He took the picture back and stuffed it into his pants. Gamora took the plunge. “Do…the others know this about you?”
He shook his head. Her stupid, selfish heart fluttered. “They’d probably laugh at me.”
Without thinking, Gamora reached over and slipped her fingers through his. He looked at her then. “No, they wouldn’t. Out here it’s hard to find family. They’d understand.”
He smiled, running his thumb along her knuckles. It tickled and sent butterflies exploding through her stomach. He leaned in towards her. Her eyes flicked to his lips. They parted as he drifted closer.
He kissed her cheek. “Thanks, G’mora.”
She felt a tug of disappointment at her core. “You’re welcome.”
She blinked at him. “What?”
“Not like that, I mean…stay here tonight. Just tonight.”
“I…” Word clogged her throat and got stuck. She couldn’t look away from that hint of desperation and adoration on his face. Eventually, she just nodded.
He stood, drawing her up by the arm, their hands still connected, and she slid under the covers after kicking off her boots. She curled onto her side as Peter climbed in beside her and settled down, facing her. He smiled again, kissed the back of her hand, and snuggled down in the pillows, his eyes closing.
Slowly, she let her eyes drift closed.
And she never slept better.
I just have a lot of feelings about this ship, okay?!
