#dad!rocket

Rocket had never considered himself as being cut out for fatherhood, never even took the effort to entertain the idea, yet the universe seemed to have other plans. When Groot had miraculously come back into his life as a sapling, he immediately stepped into the role of his primary caregiver. Not because he was in any way qualified to do so, but it felt like the least he could do for his fallen friend. 

Raising Groot was a group effort, but it was no secret he was most attached to Rocket. He would play games around his workbench, trying (and eventually succeeding) in getting him to play too. He would come to him each night to beg for a story, and unbeknownst to the others, to get a lullaby. When he’d get sleepy he’d plonk down on Rocket’s head or the spot between his neck and shoulder. At first Rocket tried to insist that Groot only preferred him because of his fur. ‘It’s softer than your fleshy bald bodies.’ were his exact words. But the others knew better.  

When Groot called him ‘dad’ for the first time, he just about had an existential crisis. He couldn’t even protect Groot Senior, how was he ever supposed to be a father to the young Groot? A father was supposed to be caring and protective, someone to look up to and be a role model, and that’s not who Rocket was. It was something he never thought he could be. But life didn’t often come with second chances, and Rocket wouldn’t let his best friend down again, he would do everything he could to raise Groot Junior to the best of his lacking ability. 

Years later, Groot was all grown up now, he was big and strong and didn’t need someone constantly looking out for him. It filled Rocket with pride to watch him, knowing that despite his fears and worries he’d managed to do right by his son, yet at the same time some part of him missed the days when Groot was small enough to fit in his arms. Bittersweet was the word for it. 

His unintended foray into fatherhood seemed to have reached its conclusion. Then overnight he became a father of twenty. 

The animals that they rescued from the High Evolutionary’s ship numbered into the hundreds, and it took the entirety of Knowhere pitching in to look after them all until arrangements were made for them back on Earth. It was their home planet, so it was decided it would be for the best to return them to their original habitat, but since they’d been raised in captivity they couldn’t just be released into the wild and left there. It was a lot of paperwork and negotiating with sanctuaries, and Rocket was more than happy to leave the bulk of that particular duty to Nebula and Peter.  

The babies he’d rescued, the raccoons, were his responsibility. It was difficult to put into the right words, he’d never been much good at that, but he felt a personal investment towards them. Looking after these tiny, helpless creatures that he had once been gave him a sense of… purpose.

 It was no easy undertaking. The little ones needed to be kept perfectly warm, have their weight monitored to ensure they were getting the right amount of nutrition, required help toileting, and of course had to be fed regularly throughout the day. During the day shifts he often had help, which was welcome given how many mouths he had to feed. Adam was ready to assist with anything and everything around Knowhere, feeling some sort of debt to them. Nebula would wordlessly come in before grabbing a bottle and one of the kits, her face always surprisingly tender towards the little babies. And Groot, despite his increasing size, was as gentle as could be while he bottle fed them. During the night shift though, the task fell entirely to Rocket. 

The lights in his apartment cast a low, warm glow while the Zune played softly in the background. Rocket casually hummed along as he prepared the babies’ formula. The kits normally stayed in the open topped box he’d created as a sort of nest. It had remote controlled heat settings and was filled with soft, plush blankets. They sat in there now, calling out to him with hungry chitters. “Alright, alright, it’s coming,” Rocket spoke to them in a hushed voice. He placed the tray of bottles on his bed before sitting down on a blanket next to the nest. 

He opened the box’s door, pulling out two of the kits and settling them on his lap. Then he held out their bottles to their mouths until they began to suckle. It had taken a few tries before they got used to the bottles, which was the source of a lot of anxiety for Rocket during the first few feedings, but they learned quick enough. Now they ate eagerly, paws kneading into his thigh as they did so. It was an instinctual behavior, he’d learned, that was usually done on the mother’s belly. There was a lot he was learning about: instincts, behaviors, mannerisms. Things that were entirely foreign to him, and yet still felt like discovering pieces of himself he didn’t realize were missing. 

He was especially fascinated when he read about how raccoons’ sense of touch relates to their memory. He’d realized for the longest time that his hands were very sensitive and they played a large role in how his memory worked, but he’d never fully known if it had been another of his cybernetic enhancements or not. Now he waited with a blossoming anticipation to watch how the kits would use this skill in their own way as they got older. 

They were messy eaters, so once the first two had their fill he gently cleaned their faces with a warm, wet cloth before placing them back in their bed. Then he’d grab the next two to be fed and the cycle would repeat. The ones that hadn’t eaten yet gave chittering wails to voice their appetites, their movements unsteady as they exited the nest to crawl over his legs, tiny claws clinging into the material of his pajama pants. “You’ll all get your turn,” he chided softly, fondness warming his gaze towards them. They looked back up at him, their dark eyes shining with innocence. 

There was a part of him that couldn’t help but wonder what his life would’ve been like if he’d never been experimented on. If he had gotten to grow normally instead of having his body broken and pinned and twisted and molded into someone else’s design. What would he be doing right now? Had he had any siblings? Had he ever been a part of a warm, snuggly pile of sleeping babies, all without a care in the world? 

These types of thoughts usually made a small knot of aching form in the center of his chest, the yearning for something he never knew, something that had been taken from him. ‘What ifs’ haunted him, lingering around like a thick, soupy fog that stole away his sight and left him feeling lost and alone. It clung to him, pulling him down unwillingly with a weight not dissimilar to that of a key that usually sat in his pocket. 

But now, it was… lighter. What he peered through was more of a mist than a dense fog, and rather than being dragged under, there was a feeling of peace he hadn’t quite experienced before. It was true that his physical pain was a constant reminder of his tortuous surgeries, and he had no idea if his nightmares would ever fully go away, but there was no longer the bitter, stinging ache of worthlessness. He had a place of belonging, his existence wasn’t for nothing. There are the hands that made us, then there are the hands that guide the hands. It seemed almost like a dream to remember it now, his ethereal reunion with Lylla, Teefs, and Floor, but those precious words were lovingly ingrained into his memory. 

Even if he couldn’t accept what had happened to him so many years ago, he could accept where he is now. Because, despite it all, he couldn’t imagine his life without Groot in it, without Peter, without Nebula, without everyone in his little ragtag family. He didn’t really believe in destiny, certainly not for himself, but he was still grateful for whatever stars aligned that allowed all their paths to cross.  

 His past couldn’t be changed, but these babies… He could give them the life he never had, and in a way, he’d still get to experience it. By watching them, and protecting them, and helping them to grow. 

Once all their bellies were full, he would put them back in their box nest for the night, but this time quite a few had clambered back out of the box so they could cuddle together by his side. He smiled at them, his healing heart overflowing with tenderness as he gently stroked a finger along one’s soft, downy fur. Gathering them all together, he curled his body around the bundle of babies, letting them nuzzle into him and wrapping his tail around them to ensure they were all covered and cozy. His eyes fell closed, the collective of tiny heartbeats lulling him into sleep. Outside high above, the stars still danced across the endless sky and the galaxy continued to revolve, but there in that warm lit room, for the first time in a long time, Rocket’s mind was calm and still. 

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When the kits had gotten bigger, Rocket took them on their first outing around Knowhere. They had become much more active and curious, and took it upon themselves to get into everything in Rocket’s apartment they could get their tiny little hands on. He’d returned one day to find all of his tools scattered across the floor along with half of his clothes, and one of his lamps was torn down and smashed. On multiple occasions he found that a number of his belongings would go missing, only for it to turn out that one of the kits had taken and left it hidden somewhere. After so many years, Rocket finally realized how Peter felt whenever he would take apart his ship, and the babies didn’t even have the totally viable excuse of creating advanced weapons of mass destruction.

So it came time to have them burn off some of that rambunctious energy by exploring their wider surroundings. Since the outside world was still new to them, they timidly stuck close to Rocket’s side, following his stride in a close group. Though inevitably one or two would become distracted and begin to wander, leading to Rocket having to double back to round up the stragglers. After a few detours, they entered the main plaza where they came across Kraglin and Cosmo engaged in conversation outside the Guardians’ headquarters. 

“Hello Smaller Rockets!” Cosmo happily greeted once she spotted them, bounding forward excitedly. The babies scampered back apprehensively at her rambunctious movement, some of them returning to Rocket to climb up onto his shoulders. 

“Aww, seems like those little uns’ think yer their mother!” Kraglin remarked with a grin. 

Rocket scoffed, pulling tiny Florence up into his arms from where she clung to his leg, “That’s ridiculous. They’re just more familiar with me than with Cos- hey Mac you spit that out right now!” He ran over to Mac, who was experimentally nomming on some unidentified object he’d found on the ground. “Get that crap outta your mouth, that’s disgusting, you don’t know where it’s been! Where’s your brother?” 

Mac of course didn’t answer, but Rocket found his missing brother anyway, spotting his innocent brown eyes peering down at them from where he’d climbed up onto an awning.   

“Fleetwood, get down from there!” Rocket scolded, “You stay where I can see you!”