#bugborg fic

Quill was surprised when Nebula seemed so perplexed by it all. Evidently, he’d assumed she and Rocket experienced plenty of falls on Earth during the Blip. But truth be told, she and Rocket had spent most of those five years in space, keeping up with the Avengers only through the occasional video call. It was only after a plan had been devised to reverse the snap that she and Rocket had bothered to make the trip back to Earth. 

Besides — there were very few Avengers she and Rocket had tolerated enough to visit Earth for, anyway. 

When the current and former Guardians of the Galaxy decided to visit Quill during an Earth October, Nebula mentioned it to Gamora during one of their calls. They still kept in touch; they shared an unspoken feeling that it was important to, even if it was difficult. Gamora had no memories of the years they spent rebuilding their relationship and learning to trust one another. She only had memories of the bad. Starting from scratch made things feel tense between them more often than not. But Nebula figured that offering hospitality was a good starting point, so she extended the Earth invitation to Gamora, as well.

“Uh, no,” Gamora said, wrinkling her nose. Nebula had expected as much. She was a little surprised, though, when Gamora said after a pause, “But…tell everyone hello from me, I guess.” 

Now, Nebula is glad Gamora turned her down. The old Gamora might’ve been reluctantly charmed by an Earth fall, but the current Gamora definitely would not have been. 

At the present moment, Rocket, Groot, Drax, and Mantis are crowded around Quill’s grandfather’s kitchen table, while Nebula hangs back and watches Quill present the group with a tray of those paper cups Nebula keeps seeing. Drax is wearing a pointy black hat on his head, courtesy of Rocket, and Rocket is wearing a sweater with a pumpkin pattern stitched onto it that Mantis found in Quill’s laundry and begged him to wear until he grumpily acquiesced. 

(Mantis has secretly snapped dozens of pictures of Rocket wearing it. Nebula doesn’t think Rocket’s noticed, and she isn’t going to tell him.)

“Now, this is an Earth delicacy,” Quill says as he passes a paper cup to Nebula, too. “So prepare yourself.”

Nebula looks skeptically at the paper cup, then across the room at Rocket, who’s raising his eyebrows dubiously.

“If you say so,” Nebula says at last. She takes a sip, then immediately splutters.

The drink is foul. It’s scorching hot, unbearably strong, and so sweet that she physically recoils. 

“Oh, gross,” Rocket gags as he lowers his own cup. Drax is retching, too, and Groot has a disgusted expression on his face. Nebula wouldn’t be surprised if one of his twigs started shriveling. 

“What, you don’t like it?” Quill says, astonished.

“I cannot imagine how anyone in their right mind could ever call this a delicacy,” Drax says, nearly shoving his drink away.

“What?” Quill says.

“Why is it so hot?” Nebula demands, opening the lid of her cup to peer suspiciously at the steam rising from the drink inside. 

“Well, normally you’d let it cool down a bit before you drink it,” Quill says impatiently.

“You were the one who wanted us to try it immediately!”

“I can’t believe you don’t like it!”

“What is it?” Rocket says.

“A pumpkin spice latte.”

“A what?” 

“I am Groot?”

“A pumpkin is a vegetable that no one who was smart would ever turn into a damn drink,” Rocket says.

“Oh, what would you know?” Quill says. “You evolved from animals that eat trash!” 

“Yeah, well, maybe that means I know what the hell I’m talking about!”

Mantis, at the head of the table, takes another long sip, then slowly lowers her cup. “You know,” she says thoughtfully. “I actually think I like it.” 

“What?” Rocket squawks.

Mantis licks her lips. There’s a smidge of white cream in the upper corner of her mouth, and Nebula doesn’t realize she’s staring at it until Mantis glances over at her. Nebula hastily looks away.

“It’s tasty,” Mantis insists. She takes another sip, then hums happily, which makes Nebula’s insides twist for reasons she refuses to examine. She looks around the table, perplexed. “You really do not like it?” 

“It’s barely edible,” Rocket says.

“The drink’s very foul,” Nebula agrees.

Mantis shrugs. “Well…I like it.” 

“Thank you, Mantis,” Quill says, leaning over and patting her shoulder. “Thank you.”

Mantis grins. Not for the first time, Nebula notices how different Mantis looks now that she’s completed her self-discovery solo journey around the galaxy. Her hair is shorter, cut at her chin in a way that makes her look older. Her voice is different now, too; louder and surer than it was before. And her eyes are brighter, alight with a kind of vibrancy Nebula might’ve thought had always been there if she hadn’t been paying closer attention.

Because Nebula is paying attention to Mantis. She has been ever since she arrived back at Knowhere; probably, she has been even longer than that. Honestly, she isn’t sure how to stop.

“Well, finish the drink quick,” Quill tells Mantis. “Grandpa and I are leaving for the pumpkin patch in an hour.”

The idea had been Quill’s grandfather’s, actually. He wanted to get to know his grandson’s sister. The invitation had also been extended to the rest of the Guardians, but they’d turned them down. Besides, most humans probably wouldn’t react well to seeing a talking raccoon and tree in a pumpkin patch.

“I’ll be ready,” Mantis insists even as she continues to drink the disgusting pumpkin beverage.

“Dressed in that?” Quill says, eyeing Mantis’ usual dark green get-up.

“What’s wrong with this?”

“Well…” Quill is clearly fumbling for a response that isn’t It makes it even more obvious that you’re an alien. He settles on, “You’ll need something warmer.”

“This is all I brought.” Mantis glances hopefully at Rocket’s pumpkin sweater.

“No way, Bug. You had your chance, I’m keeping it,” Rocket says, bringing the neck of the sweater up to his chin. When everyone gives him a look, he adds, “It’s comfortable, alright?”

“Well,” Quill says, turning back to Mantis. “Then you can borrow something from Nebula.” 

Nebula stiffens. “What?”

“What? You brought other clothes, right?”

Nebula did. She doesn’t understand why Mantis didn’t, given she’s the one who’s spent the past year traveling the galaxy.

Mantis turns her gaze onto Nebula, her eyes big, round, and deceptively innocent. “Can I borrow something of yours, Nebula?”

Nebula feels like there’s something itchy under her skin. She clears her throat. “Yes. That’s fine.”

They leave the Guardians downstairs — Rocket, Groot, and Drax have congregated to the living room couch to watch a movie — and go upstairs to the spare room where they’ve stored their stuff. Nebula didn’t pack much — this was planned to be a short trip — but she does find a long-sleeved gray hoodie in her bag, suitable for Mantis to wear in cooler weather. It’s clean, too. Or at least Nebula’s pretty sure it is, despite what looks like a grease stain on one of the sleeves.

Still. It’ll do.

“Here,” Nebula says, shoving it unceremoniously into Mantis’ hands.

Mantis smiles. “Thanks.”

Then she starts putting it on then and there, making Nebula’s eyes go wide.

She doesn’t know why she’s surprised. Mantis is just shrugging the hoodie over her other clothes. It isn’t like she’s taking any of her other clothes off. But something is jarring about it all the same.

Mantis straightens out the sleeves of the hoodie, smoothing the fabric down her front, then looks up at Nebula. “All good?”

Nebula feels her mouth run dry.

The hoodie is bigger on Mantis than it is on Nebula, which Nebula probably should’ve expected. Nebula is much taller, and the sweatshirt is big on her to begin with. But on Mantis, the sleeves fall far past Mantis’s arms, and the hem hangs down to her thighs. Mantis is practically dwarfed by the hoodie, looking warm and comfortable — in ways Nebula is sure she never looks while wearing it — and also…

Cute. To Nebula’s dawning horror, she realizes that the image of Mantis wearing Nebula’s hoodie… is cute.

“Nebula?” Mantis asks, brow furrowing.

“Yes,” Nebula manages to say, and when Mantis’ brow furrows even further, Nebula adds, “Good,” like some kind of idiot.

Mantis smiles anyway, but there’s something in her expression Nebula can’t interpret. If she knew better, she might think it was knowing. 

“Well,” Mantis says, clearing her throat. “Thanks for letting me borrow it.”