The Xandarian Winter Solstice

chapter one

Carol comes home from the Xandarian Winter Solstice party. Similar to the festival of the four moons.

Only with more tinsel. And drink.

Yon didn't go. Which resulted in him being called something called a "Grinch".

Carol had faltered in giving him a physical description of said being for unknown reasons.

She'd been gone all night much to his amusement, in civilian clothes for once, much to her dismay. Yon has shushed her and enticed her into a floor length silver gown in a lame style material. Iridescent under different lights. Whether illuminated by her fists or not was her decision.

She drew the line at make up, instead using some of his hair cream in her pixie cut. Dipping her fingertips into the goop, rubbing it between her hands before slathering it in and up to a quiff.

Carol comes over and kisses him deeply, moans happily at the taste. Her hair now sticking out at all angles much alike the shape of a star. He smirks at the connection but doesn't voice his thoughts.

"Mmm. You should have come with me, we could have gambled some Xandarian pussies under the table." Being Kree made for good poker faces apparently. Whatever poker was.

"I wanted you to enjoy yourself. This was your party. You're famous, Xandar loves you. Noone loves dishonored Kree."

"Aw, I do." She smirks.

"Really?" Yon asks, hopeful.

"Nope." And she narrows her eyes.

"Horrible woman…" he noses into her hair and peppers her neck with kisses. He tells her he loves her most nights and she always replies with 'I know' or 'good'. She'll never say it to him, would never admit she needs him. Or wants him.

She smacks his arm.

"Now and then, I realise I don't deserve you."

She still thinks he's playing. "What?!" Carol says with a grin. But when she looks at him, she sees his gaze is far away, probably six years ago or maybe even further. "Hey…." She grabs his chin lightly, pulling his attention back to the present, her eyes full of worry and surprise. "What's brought this on?"

"Enjoying yourself. With people...equal to you."

"...okay?" Her brow furrows slowly.

He runs his hands from her elbows to her biceps. Strong, smooth, invincible, underneath his palms. Yon Rogg sighs like he's having to explain to a child something obvious. "I sleep with a woman who can fly in the stars without breathing apparatus or a ship. A woman that can fire destruction from her wrists if she pleases." He cocks his head as if deep in thought. Eyes still on hers.

"Am I starting to make sense?"

Carol snatches herself away from him, turning from him, frowning, eyes full of fire.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Mouth set in a firm line. "Are we actually having a fight about why we're together?"

"It's not a fight."

"Sure feels like it." She still doesn't look at him.

He sees the muscles working in her jaw. He's wondering if she's wondering of her options. Waying them at light speed, with each one in her super-charged fire hands. Her friend once said that to her but he'd forgotten which one.

Their apartment was the top of a vast apartment block. Echoed memories of StarForce and lies and hope and who they were.

It also held a little practicality, if she ever needed to zoom off and out she could out one of the windows, practically the only barrier between her and infinity and the universe beyond.

And she does.

…

She comes back, eyes wet. Through the open window she left, he didn't bother shutting it, didn't want to shut her out.

Carol grabs a handful of his tshirt, when she comes to him, he'd retired for the night and thus changed his clothes.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry. Sorrysorrysorry." She presses herself to him and he smells her skin, her shoulders and neck and chest bare from the dress. She smelt of sweat and salt and starlight.

She'd clearly flown.

"All that shit you said earlier, I felt like you were pushing me on to another super person."

"I was."

"I thought you'd be the jealous type?"

Ohhhhhh he was. Yon sighs. "I'd want you to be happy.

Carol blinks. "I am."

"Tell your face that."

She smacks him again.

He grabs her wrist and pulls her near, pushes the fallen quiff from out of her eyes. "Horrible woman."

"I am." And she grins. "That's the reason I'm with you, you know. You're not one of us. You don't have wings. You're not ten foot tall. You can shoot shit out your hands or feet or whatever. You're just you. You keep me grounded. You help me remember there's a ground to fucking land on once in a while."

"You help me feel….just me." Yon's face is an expression she's never seen before. And she wonders if he knows its even there.