video; @star.lord

[nostalgiabomb]

[ INT. Shared Housing, Floor 13, Room 4 – Very Late Night.

We open on a shot of the living space in one of the many shared housing units. It's dark in the messy room, with a couple of red jackets tossed onto the backs of chairs. Nearby, soft snores are audible.

In frame is a small, wooden creature, his giant eyes squinting with concentration as he stares at the screen. An old, beat-up mp3 player and a Sony Walkman sit beside him on the coffee table. The little creature mumbles a tiny, irritated— ]

I am Groot?

[ —in the same tone of voice someone else might use to ask, “How the hell do you work this thing?” He pokes at the screen fruitlessly for a while, but soon enough, his eyes light up as he shoves his hand forward one last time.

Suddenly, “Dirty Deeds Done Dirt Cheap” by the illustrious AC/DC shrieks over stereo speakers.

DONE. DIRT. CHEAP.

Sorry about your beauty sleep, Floor 13. And probably Floors 12 and 14.

The sapling yelps, scrambling and panicking to figure out how to stop this crazy thing, just as a sleep-tousled Star-Lord stumbles into frame, flicking on a light. Barely audible over the music, ]

Groot, what are you—?

[ Busted.

Peter picks up the device, sees that it’s recording, and he grimaces. ]

Oh, son of a—

[ Which is when the feed and the music both cut out. ]

Comments

[nostalgiabomb]

[ The sharpness cuts through that fog, and he flinches back.

He glances to the living room, sees Groot there, watching them with wide eyes, and Peter offers the kid a small, reassuring smile.

(He remembers being in that position. Mom and Gramps discussing plans of attack and payments and treatment options and—)

He takes a deep breath, turning back to Gamora. He tries to keep himself calm, but there's a faint tremor in his voice. ]

A couple days. [ A concession, but not much of one. Peter knows it, but this isn't something to sit around on. ] If it's not getting better after that, we'll go see someone.

[godslay]

[ Her gaze follows Peter's to Groot, and she gives him her own faint smile, guilt tugging weakly in her stomach. Turning back to Peter, she hesitates, taking a moment to swallow around the growing soreness in her throat, but... ]

Fine. A couple days.

[ It's a concession of her own, too, if only because she's confident in what her body is capable of. ]

Then you'll see it's nothing.

[nostalgiabomb]

[ Yeah, Peter hardly looks convinced, but maybe that's because of all the old memories this situation has been dredging up. Report after report coming in about an epidemic, something straight out of Riverview's history books, and Peter has been paying attention, has kept an eye on Groot and Gamora for any potential signs of illness.

He didn't think he'd finally spot something.

Hesitantly, he rests a hand on her shoulder, searching Gamora's face. ]

Maybe you should take the next couple days off.

[godslay]

[ There's no snapping or shrugging him off, and she reaches up to gently grip his wrist. ]

If I need to, I will.

[ But as it stands, it's just a cough.

(Right?)

Her other hand moves to Peter's cheek, smoothing below his eye (though she thinks he might feel cooler than usual? just slightly). ]

It'll pass.

[nostalgiabomb]

... Yeah. Of course.

[ It's not his most convincing delivery in the world.

Because a part of him still wants desperately to throw a coat over her shoulders and usher her out of the door, to take her to one of the specialists at the hospital to take care of whatever this is. Hell, they could go and they could assure them that it's just a tickle in her throat, ship the two of them off with a bag of cough drops, and Peter would be more than happy to suffer Gamora's smugness at being right if it meant he didn't have to worry.

(Even if he doesn't place a lot of trust in doctors. They didn't help Mom, after all, so, really, what good are they?)

He leans into her touch, frowning at the heat of her hand, which prompts him to press the back of his hand against her forehead.

Then, quietly, ] You're kinda warm.

[ But maybe he's making mountains out of molehills? ]

[godslay]

I'm always warm, compared to you.

[ The back of his hand feels oddly nice on her face, stark in its difference in temperature, but instead of letting herself relish it, she reaches up to pull his hand down again.

(She doesn't want him to worry. She doesn't want to give him another thing to focus on.)

But her hand around his is another point of heat, edging away from the subtle change in body temperature to something more enflamed – which is why she releases him just a little too quickly. ]

[nostalgiabomb]

[ He's about to argue that, yeah, okay, he knows she runs warmer than him, but this is different. He knows her well enough by now, he thinks, that he knows what is and isn't normal.

But she pulls down his hand anyway, and her hand is— that's definitely that same level of heat he had felt when she touched his face, and she seems to realize it the same time he does, judging by the way she lets go like she's been burned.

He holds her gaze for a second, and that worry (that fear) starts to twist again. ]

Gamora...

[ And he reaches out, moving to feel her forehead, her cheek, whatever, again. ]

[tetherer]

[Ah.]

It basically means I'm the god of Tethering the worlds together. Which part was confusing? I can explain more, if you need me to.

[buildsomething]

Fair enough.

[Look, he tried. There are reasons Tony does not spend that much time around kids.]

He in time out or something?

[nostalgiabomb]

[ yeah. Okay. That doesn’t clear up anything, if Peter’s honest. (Why do worlds need tethering? Aren’t they just out there, doing their own thing? What are the other two gods, if there are three of them, and what do they do? And aren’t gods supposed to be, like, immortal? Since when is there a succession plan?)

But mostly, he keeps sticking on a single point. That point being, ]

... You’re a god?

[ He can’t help the wariness that inches into his voice. Peter’s had some bad experiences with folks who call themselves gods – or, more specifically, Peter has had a singular fuck-awful experience one (1) with giant Celestial douchebag. ]

[nostalgiabomb]

[ Peter’s gaze flicks over to Groot. ]

For the next five minutes or so, yeah.

[ And he says it with a touch of discomfort, because he knows how that sounds, how that makes this relationship look, and while it might be true – that Peter is definitely helping to raise Groot – he’s not entirely sure if he’s cool with the title and all the baggage that comes with it.

(Peter and fathers, literal or figurative, don’t tend to mix very well.)

Which is why Peter changes the topic, nodding toward Stark’s work station. ]

I see you’re burning the midnight oil.

[buildsomething]

[Tony's head lifts long enough to give Peter a look that's almost commiserating before one side of his mouth kicks up into a sort of half-smile. He shrugs, leaning back in his chair.]

I don't really keep any kind of regular hours. Just sort of whenever I happen to get an idea.

[flowlikewater]

[ Genji doesn't take any offense from the question. He nods a little, looking at his hand. ]

This is still relatively new to me, but yes, I have found I can revitalize plants and help them grow.

[nostalgiabomb]

[ It's not really Peter's place to mention that that doesn't sound particularly healthy, even if he thinks it. And considering he's still currently awake, now that the music had jolted him out of his sleep, he could use the company. ]

Working on anything fun?

[nostalgiabomb]

[ His gaze flits over to the kid, thoughtful and assessing, then back to Genji. ]

I appreciate the offer. Hopefully I won’t have to take you up on it, but I’ll keep you in mind if it ever comes up.

Any particular way I should get in touch? Text? Phone? Carrier pigeon? Smoke signals?

[buildsomething]

Depends on your definition.

[It's all fun to Tony, mostly.]

Why, you need something?

[tetherer]

Ah... Yes. I've given up my role however, and have decided to stay here in the Quarantine, where my power is much more limited.

[They'd also prefer people not to flip out about the god thing, but that sort of comes part and parcel with the territory, doesn't it? Maybe they should keep this sort of thing closer to their chest, but they don't particularly enjoy lying. Nor are they any good at it.

They're far too earnest for their own good.]

[latrodectus]

[ Natasha is actually inclined to agree with the aesthetic philosophy, at least, but she's not going to say that. ]

Is he from 1980?

[talentedscavenger]

[Well, that was more detailed than Rey expected this early in the morning...or late in the evening, however anyone wanted to look at it. The concern in her gaze levels out, especially when he mentions that they're a family.

That, she can understand...]

Sounds like you're more of his parent than guardian.

[There is a difference between the two, she knows from first hand experience. A parent means they care whereas guardian....they really didn't care if you lived or died.]

Not many people would've taken someone as young as him in, or do any of those other things.

[She's speaking from experience on this.]

And, it's not the strangest thing I've ever heard.

[nostalgiabomb]

[ He snorts out a laugh. ]

No, I'm good.

D'you get that a lot? Like, "Hey, Stark, it's 4am, but would you mind making me a flamethrower?"

[nostalgiabomb]

[ He frowns at that, though he tries to conceal it.

(See, he's been a little worried that Ego might show up, one of these days. And considering the guy could be anyone, anything he wanted, Peter might be a little paranoid.

... but if the guy did show up, he doubts he'd be stupid enough to approach Peter and then start in on the god stuff again.) ]

Why would you come here? If it limits your powers, or whatever.

[nostalgiabomb]

No, he's not.

[ A little exasperated. The both of them are from (insert alien year here,) or more specifically, 2014 by the Terran calendar.

And because this is already painfully transparent, Peter finally admits, ]

And it's my music.

[nostalgiabomb]

[ oh god no "parent" has so much baggage associated with it, and Peter visibly falters at the term.

(Peter and fathers, biological or otherwise, don't seem to mix.)

He rubs at the back of his neck, apparently made uncomfortable by the claim, but he's not going to say that. ]

I mean, he's just one of us, you know? It's not like we were ever gonna just leave him behind.

[godslay]

[ She can see that anxiety on his face, plain as day, but she catches his wrist when he reaches out – gently, but firmly. It does nothing to soothe the idea that she's too warm, not with that direct contact, but she's insistent. ]

You said we'd give it a couple days. Don't worry about this.

[tetherer]

Well, I didn't arrive on purpose.

[Said with an ironic smile. But it fades.]

But I prefer it this way. There are countless worlds in my reality, and countless lives to go along with them. I was responsible for all of them. In ways that could help or harm, in equal measure.

[If they stay vague, it sounds more like they're simply shirking their responsibilities -- which they are -- than running from a system set up to Destroy many of those lives.]