WELL I'LL BE GO TO HELL.

       “ – we’re all thieves here. having you pay for anything just seems wrong. you deserve a break. consider our wedding your vacation.” conversation that might’ve put anyone else into a state of panic because of the topic easily becomes an anchor for quill. his shoulders release just enough tension that they aren’t riding up high. he rubs the palm of his untethered hand across his pants, scrubbing at blood that’s no longer there. quill’s smile shifts into a look closer to disbelief, eyes wide and searching.

       “… you really think so?” because he knows beyond any shadow of doubt that nate’s in love with him. maybe he doesn’t know or understand why, but he knows he is. nate shows it every day. quill knows that maybe they’re meant for forever. he knows all of this, but hearing it from someone so important to nate means it’s real and can’t be taken away. “uh, yeah. okay, so – we wanted to be extra. dunno when it’ll be… but you’ll obviously know before anyone else. well, okay – with everyone on board this ship. but that’s still before the general loser population. ‘cause, y’know – you’ll be in the wedding. right?” 

     that draws a genuine chuckle. “c’mon now, son. we’re professionals. but even us pros gotta take a little shore leave every now ‘n again — especially for an open bar.”

     it’s the candid sincerity that just confirms what he already knows. quill’s not messing around. and as long as that holds true, sully intends to back this whole thing with everything he has. he’s watched nate run himself into the ground one too many times before to stand idle and witness a repeat performance. 

     not this time. not on his watch.

       the amount of effort it takes to look away from nate and focus on sully almost zaps him of whatever adrenaline nervous high he’s running on. quill forces himself to meet sully’s gaze, to study the kindness he finds there. the wisdom. to pick points of his face to focus on because nate’s right there and not okay, but he needs to stay away from the lightheaded fuzziness that’s threatening to settle.

      he takes a breath, as he’s told to.

       “he’s my husband. well, okay – we’re totally gonna put out an announcement in space about an engagement and get an open bar ‘cause nate said that you’d kill him if we didn’t spring for one,” he rambles on, a shaky smile blooming despite the odds. honestly, quill’s unsure what is or isn’t a joke anymore because he’d marry him today in a heartbeat and it’s not just the weight of nearly losing him that makes him realize that. “i love him, sully… – jesus, i don’t know why i’m tellin’ you all this ‘cause you’re not dumb. it’s obvious, huh? it’s probably obvious. i don’t talk about this kind of thing and now i can’t shut up about it. what’s wrong with me? actually, don’t answer. there’s a lot. it’s fine.” 

     “well, he was right about the open bar, at least. if i gotta pay for the tux and the caterers — ‘cause otherwise, i wouldn’t put it past him to order a hundred pizzas ‘n call it a goddamn day — then i’m not gonna be payin’ for drinks.” 

     they’re on the right track with this, sully thinks; it’s not anything he didn’t expect, but he warms to it anyway. that, and it helps quill’s attention stay centered on something that isn’t nate, unconscious and covered in blood. helps the both of them, in fact. sully nods, a smile working in the corners of his mouth. this is probably the longest he’s gone in years without lighting up a cigar. 

       “ – yeah. yeah, i know.” knows that he’s tough. knows that he’ll make it. knows that it was the right thing to do to run get sully because if he hadn’t been there, who knows where they’d be right now. nate’s not dead, but it’s hard to shake the image of him looking damn near close. until he’s awake, making some inevitable stupid joke, quill’s nerves are raw and frayed. even the image of a teenage nate, mouthy and ready to take on the world, doesn’t numb that feeling. “i’m just glad you didn’t shoot me. and ya let me kidnap you to bring you here. and – thanks. for … for all of this. which sounds stupid to say thank you for ‘cause you’ve known him longer and … you know what i mean.” gamora lifts her head to give quill a look that says ‘ calm down, it’s okay,’ but he still feels like he can’t breathe. “sorry.” 

     quill’s leg won’t stop bouncing, just like he can’t bring himself to stop watching the way the blood leaves his and sully’s arms before making way through the ship tubing to get to nate. gamora works diligently and quietly, which is great, but it leaves quill with his thoughts. clearing his throat, he breaks the silence with a quiet murmur, “remind me to give you a tour of the milano when, y’know – he’s awake.” ; @fortunebought

         “ – okay, you don’t think it’s a li’l creepy? y’know, if you were in my position. meet a guy and suddenly his dad is all up in your face and knows things about you and all tha–” it’s a moot point. he’s got the feeling he’s not about to pull any information out of this victor sullivan. “oh, i’ve noticed. i heard the legend bit. also, i resent the batshit reckless remark. sometimes i’ve got a plan. but, uh – i was looking for missouri. got lost. found nate. do you know how to get to missouri from here?” the grin he flashes him is bright and full of teeth. he really did get lost. 

       thankfully, he thinks.

       okay, this was unexpected. and what’s more, he’s entirely not prepared for someone to kill him right now. all his everything is upstairs thrown around nate’s room and he’s down here with a dropped jaw and a look of confusion. maybe a little pride mixed in. after all, he’s known. star lord. man, it feels good to hear. “hey, easy – nate’s peachy. maybe a little worn out and hungover, but, heh. y’know how it is. how do – how do you know me? i get i’m pretty infamous, but –” 

       when he circles back around with a shirt that’s not even his, he’s still pouting because he is classy. when he wants to be. and maybe last night doesn’t prove any of that, but still. the smell of coffee is a gift from the heavens and quill’s quick to pick his up, bringing it up to his nose where it sits. “finances. of the … potentially illegal variety. mostly up high.” he pauses, debating the likelihood of any of this coming back to bite him. ultimately, he’s too tired for pretense. and this guy looks serious about … well, everything. “okay, but really i’m a guardian of the galaxy – fancy title, i know. it’s a big deal. and i steal pretty things for people in space. that’s the quick ‘n dirty of it.” 

       “… well, when you put it like that, it sounds less classy. i was a gentleman.” in theory, anyway. everything about this has been topsy turvy. he doesn’t usually stick around for the morning after. he doesn’t usually run in to old people with keys to the place he’s in either. “sure, right – let me just… find it. i’ll, uh… be back?” 

      armed with nothing but a fingergun, that’s what gets sent his way.

     “hate to break it to ya, kid, but there ain’t a single goddamn thing about any’a this that’s classy. boy, you two really are a perfect match. jesus.” there’s a dark chuckle as he sets about making a fresh pot of coffee. nate’s houseguest is back by the time it’s done. sully pours out a mug and slides it across the countertop, his expression inscrutable. “so what line of work you in, peter quill?”

       “whoa, whoa. okay, calm down. this is weird. it’s cold and i feel like you’re staring at my nipples and just –” he takes in a deep breath, unable to stop himself from the jut of his lower lip and the slump in his shoulders. “quill. peter quill. i’m not an intruder. uh, i was invited – nate is my friend?” actually, he’s not sure how he ended up here in the fog of last night, but he isn’t about to tell this old geezer that.

         “ – for what? i do. probably. kind of,” he squints, unable to make sense through the blanket of hangover. “okay, you got me. i was looking for the coffee and then drank milk from the carton. wait, who are you?”