Prompt: A Peter Quill & Rocket Raccoon fic where after a night of drinking, Quill insists once again that Rocket is a raccoon and they get into an argument Rocket explains exactly what he thinks of all the names he has been called. "Why do I have to be ANYTHING?! Why can't I just be Rocket?" With all the accompanying feels associated with such talk.
This is originally from my AO3 account! :D
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"Alright, team," Peter straightened his back on the pilot chair as the Milano docked, "We'll be refueling here before we head on to Xandar."
They had landed on a small trading planet, Vethichi, to restock on supplies they were low on, parts that had miraculously gone missing - no thanks to Rocket - and just get a little rest and relaxation.
Peter knew that is was a much needed thing, as the Nova Corps had sent them on many grueling missions that tested every skill they had in their repertoire, including patience. They were all tired and more than ready to keep themselves busy with meaningless tasks into the night - or, at least, Peter was.
"I will head into the town to put in some orders to be delivered in the morning," Gamora stood from her seat and gazed at the rest of them. "Any requests before I leave?"
"More Beasties!" Rocket called from his position below the main deck.
"Yes," Drax supplied, "Those snacks are most enjoyable."
Peter stood so that they could all see his disgusted face, "More like most unenjoyable," he paused to consider his less than proper wording, "Those things are disgusting. Yondu ate them all the time. It's kind of like...eating a bunch of live worms." He shivered at the thought.
"Yes, Rocket," and of course Gamora was ignoring Peter. Again. "I'll pick some up when I'm out. When should I have the fuel packages delivered?"
"Eh," Peter considered his options, "Well, I suppose sometime tonight. Can someone hang back to get them? And, of course, keep an eye on Groot," his eyes darted to the potted plant in question.
"I will do it," Drax spoke, "although, I would rather not put my eye on our tree companion. Is that alright?" His voice was filled with layers of confusion.
Peter heard Rocket scoff, and he himself let out a soft sigh, "No, Drax. It's an expression. Just," he hesitated, "look after him, yeah?"
"I am Groot."
"Yes, Groot," Rocket called out as he scurried up to their level, "We trust you to look after yourself. But you can't exactly keep this piece of garbage guarded, ya know?"
Peter turned his head towards Rocket and scoffed, "Piece of garbage? Look, she isn't the cleanest, but the Milano is my baby. And hell if I'll let anyone disrespect my baby." He paused for a moment, "And you know, ya rodent, for someone who likes to claim my ship as theirs so often, you sure insult it a lot."
Rocket bristled at the insult and glared at Peter. "I'm not going to dignify you with a response."
"Because you now I'm right."
"Because you're an idiot, stupid humie."
Gamora pinched the bridge of her nose with her forefingers and sighed; Drax stared at the two of them gruffly, "Let's stop this useless prattling," Rocket and Peter let their eyes drift to their two (Groot was watching on with confused amusement) less than delighted teammates. Begrudgingly, the two of them turned away from each other.
"Well," Peter began, "I'll be off. I've got a date with some hotties at the first bar I find. I'm assuming you'll all be fine while I'm gone?"
Gamora groaned and gave him a look that thoroughly unsettled him. He avoided her eyes with a sheepish grin and a hand awkwardly placed over his neck. "Yes, Quill," She droned, "we'll be better than fine. Promise me you'll be okay."
