❝I’m not taking that medicine, it’s disgusting.❞ With peter quill please?
When the two of you got caught in a thunderstorm a few days ago, Peter swore he never got sick. “It’s the alien blood in me,” he tried, sniffling a little as you made your way back on the ship and pulling off his soaked jacket. “I’ll be fine.”
Four days later, Peter was on bed rest. You’d insisted, as had all the other Guardians. Rocket happily took over the job of being co-captain with Gamora while Peter rested up, even if Peter hated it.
“You’re only going to get better if you rest, Pete,” you leant back against the chair beside his bed. He was tucked in, head resting against a pillow. There was a half full box of tissues beside him and he’d been running a temperature all day. You’d taken on nurse duties.
Peter screwed up his nose and sniffed. “Do aliens get sick? Like full aliens.”
“I guess so,” you shrugged. “I mean, you’re sick, and you’re half. I’d say it’s a safe bet.”
He huffed and ripped out another tissue from the box, angrily blowing his nose for the millionth time that day. When he was done, he sighed and snuggled further down into the bed. “I’d intended for it to be romantic as hell, you know? Getting stuck in that thunderstorm? I was gonna do one of those things you see in movies and kiss you in the rain.”
You raised your eyebrows. “Pete, that’s only romantic in movies. In real life, it ends up like this. You, sick in bed, and me, watching over you to make sure you’re recovering,” you chuckled. “If you wanted something romantic, you’re gonna have to wait a little longer now.”
“I haven’t kissed you in five days, so I think I’ve waited a while,” he frowned. “Hey, sickness – can you just go away now? I’ve learnt my lesson. Give me back my life now!”
As you reached down to grab the bottle of medicine from the side table, Peter continued to talk to his ‘sickness’, begging it to leave him alone. You smiled at him as he spoke, chuckling quietly at this absolute dork of a man that you loved.
“Well, if you wanna get better, Pete…”
He glanced over to you, spotting the medicine in your hand and instantly shook his head. He stuck out his tongue in disgust and furrowed his eyebrows, looking utterly adorable in his quest to deny the medicine that would ultimately help him.
“I’m not taking that medicine,” Peter frantically shook his head. “It’s disgusting.”
“It’ll make you better, Pete,” you tried.
Peter shook his head once more. “Nope, not happening.”
“And the sooner you’re better, the sooner you can kiss me again…” You knew that one would work, and Peter narrowed his eyes as he met your gaze once more. You could see his resolve breaking and knew that he was going to end up taking the medicine.
Reluctantly, Peter pouted and reached out a hand to take the spoon. “Fine. But if it doesn’t make me better enough to kiss you tomorrow, I’m suing.”