#frolis writes

Mantis drops into the empty space on the couch beside Nebula with a breathless laugh. Her cheeks are flushed with activity and her hair is slightly askew. She smooths the stray strands back into place with an absent sweep of her hand and settles in beside Nebula, snuggling into her side.

“Finished dancing already?” Nebula asks dryly. She’s wearing her usual, grouchy expression—not the least bit impressed by the Guardians’ post (successful) mission celebrations—but she shifts to let Mantis lean against her more comfortably.

Mantis tips her head back until she can see Nebula, who is frowning down at her. “Just taking a break,” Mantis answers. “I’ll get back to it in a minute.”

Nebula grunts in reply and goes back to doing what she had been doing before—pointedly ignoring the festivities, which included her ridiculous sister dancing with her idiot Terran and the rest of the equally foolish Guardians getting boisterous and rowdy across the room. Beside her, Mantis studies her for a moment and then moves to flop down into Nebula’s lap. Nebula’s arms snap up reflexively before gradually relaxing as Mantis makes herself comfortable.

  Nebula makes a face. “Happy?” she grumbles, even as she slowly threads her fingers through Mantis’s hair.

“Yes,” Mantis answers immediately. She closes her eyes and sighs happily.

Soon Mantis is absently humming along to Peter’s music, which was currently playing over the ship’s speakers. She’s almost dozed off, lulled by the repetitive motions of Nebula’s fingers through her hair, when the first notes of Hooked on a Feeling starts up and she snaps back to alertness.

Mantis sits up abruptly, grinning, and Nebula’s fingers slip from her hair. “I love this song.”

She turns to Nebula but before she can speak Nebula beats her to it. “No.”

“Dancing is so much fun, though!” Mantis pleads. “I’m sure you’d like dancing if you tried.”

“I don’t dance,” Nebula insists.

“It’ll be fun!”

“Mantis…”

Mantis looks at her beseechingly. “Please? For me?”

Nebula’s protests die in her throat in the face of Mantis’s earnest, pleading look, and she silently curses her weakness even as she sighs in defeat and gives in. Mantis lets out a delighted squeal and leaps to her feet. She takes Nebula by the wrist and pulls her along onto the “dance floor,” starting in with a simple swaying motion.

Already Nebula is regretting this. The other Guardians have noticed her sudden presence among the partying—something Nebula is painfully aware of—and are trying (and failing) to discreetly watch as Mantis coaxes her into the dance.

“I don’t know how to dance,” Nebula mutters quietly. She sees Quill nudge Gamora with his elbow and lean in to murmur something Nebula can’t make out. They’re both watching. Nebula sets her mouth in a thin line and refuses to look their way. Instead, she focuses on Mantis, who beams up at her.

“It’s okay, Nebula. Just follow my movements.” Mantis clasps one of Nebula’s hands in her own, places the other on her waist. “I’ll lead, you follow. Okay?”

Mantis’s smile is warm and infectious, and despite her misgivings Nebula feels a twinge of reassurance. She nods, slowly brings her hand up to rest on Mantis’s shoulder.

She follows Mantis’s lead as best as she can, but she is surprisingly clumsy for how effortlessly graceful and precise she is in combat. Mantis doesn’t seem to mind, though, even giggles fondly in a way that makes Nebula feel warm when she fumbles, occasionally murmuring encouragement or advice.

“Okay, twirl,” Mantis instructs, having told Nebula what that entailed in advance.

Nebula grumbles, “This is ridiculous.” But she does as Mantis instructs, and at first it goes well, but when it’s time to twirl back she spins too sharply, too abrupt, and she bumps into Mantis, making them both stumble.

Nebula winces. “Sorry.”

Mantis regains her footing quickly. She falls back into step easily, briefly cupping Nebula’s cheek.

“Relax. You’re over thinking it.”

She resumed their dance, gently prodding Nebula into motion. Nebula follows her lead, managing to fall into a stiff sort of rhythm that has Mantis beaming up at her. Nebula can’t help but smile back.

Suddenly Mantis’s eyes take on a mischievous gleam, and before Nebula can say anything the world drops out from under her and Mantis is leaning over Nebula, hair spilling over her shoulders and framing her face.

Mantis holds the dip for only a few moments that seem to stretch forever, and Nebula is too stunned to properly react. Her mind races and she cycles rapidly from alarm to baffled surprise to…even more baffling attraction. Nebula’s pulse spikes and she is all too aware of how close Mantis is holding her; of Mantis’s arm curled securely around her waist and the pressure of her fingers against her hip, of how tightly her own fingers had curled into the back of Mantis’s shirt and just how hard she’s suddenly finding it to breathe.

Fuck, she thinks through a dizzying rush of want.

The song sounds so far away to her now, and the tiny snatches that she catches swirl around her head in an endless loop.

(I’m hooked on a feeling)

Mantis’s antennae are glowing, but Nebula is too distracted by the moment to realize what that means until Mantis—still holding one of Nebula’s hands—gives it a squeeze and starts Nebula out of her reverie.

Of course. Mantis knows exactly what she’s feeling.

Nebula’s cheeks darken and Mantis giggles, her own reddening as she yanks Nebula upright again and lets the momentum take into a twirl as the song winds down and finally ends.

“That wasn’t so bad, was it?” Mantis asks, pulling her close and looping both arms around Nebula’s waist.

“I suppose,” Nebula grudgingly admits. Her heart is still racing and shows no signs of slowing down. “But that song was ridiculous.”

Mantis laughs. “I think it’s fun. And a little romantic.”

Nebula lets out a huff. She’s not feeling quite that generous. She leans forward to press her forehead to Mantis’s. “Still…I wouldn’t mind doing that again,” she says, more quietly.

“Sounds like a date,” Mantis says, settling into their embrace and rocking them gently in time to the next song.

“May I?”

Mantis holds her hand up, palm out, and Nebula eyes her warily.

They’re standing a few feet apart, and although her posture is relaxed, Mantis holds her arm close to her body and hopes the distance will bring some comfort to Nebula.

Nebula is quiet long enough that Mantis starts to feel a twinge of self-consciousness. The fingers of her other hand curl into a nervous fist and she’s about to tell Nebula it’s okay, you don’t have to but as she opens her mouth to speak Nebula beats her to it.

“I—yes, you can…yes.” Her voice is harsh sounding, like it usually was, but she speaks haltingly.

Mantis blinks, breaks into a relieved smile and closes the distance between them until they’re face to face. Mantis reaches for Nebula’s face slowly. Nebula watches with serious black eyes, and there’s an intensity to her expression as she tracks Mantis’s movements that makes Mantis’s heart flutter. She smiles reassuringly before finally cupping Nebula’s face with her hands. Nebula’s breath hitches when their skin finally makes contact and her emotions bloom into life within Mantis.

Mantis doesn’t realize how much closer they’ve gotten until she feels pressure where Nebula’s forehead presses into hers. Her antennae dip close to Nebula’s eyes, and Nebula squints as they flutter across her brow. Mantis gently strokes Nebula’s cheek with one thumb and slowly, so slowly, Nebula closes her eyes and relaxes in her hands.

Nebula’s breathing evens out again, and the combination of that and how she seems to have melted into Mantis’s touch almost makes Mantis think she’s fallen asleep.

“Your antennae are glowing,” Nebula says quietly. When she opens her eyes again Mantis can see the bright pinprick of her antennae’s glow reflected in Nebula’s black eyes. Mantis hadn’t noticed how brightly they’d lit up.

“They glow because you love me,” Mantis replied, “and they glow because I love you.”

Nebula inhales sharply and for a brief instant Mantis can feel the spike of rapidfire embarrassment and denial before she jolts back out of Mantis’s touch.  Just before the connection is severed she catches a tiny glimpse of Nebula’s deeply buried affection and Mantis can’t help the breathy laugh that escapes her as she’s overcome with her own fondness.

When her laughter finally subsides and she can look at Nebula again her cheeks are a deeper shade of blue than they normally are, and she could almost be glaring except for how flustered she looks and Mantis thinks it’s terribly endearing.

She reaches for Nebula again—happy when she lets Mantis cup her cheek again—and rubs her thumb across Nebula’s cheek. “It’s okay,” she assures. “This is new to me too.” Mantis pauses, sends Nebula a rush of affection. It’s a tangled mix of longing and want and joy and everything she feels when she’s with Nebula. “I do not have much experience with romantic relationships, but I think I would like to be with you, if you would like to try.”

Nebula doesn’t reply right away, and Mantis knows she’s struggling to digest her declaration, needs to sort through the overload of emotions, so she waits.

There’s no rush.

She keeps her hands on Nebula’s face, gentle and reassuring and light enough that Nebula can pull back if she wants to, but she doesn’t. The seconds tick past and still she doesn’t break away; if anything, she seems to lean harder into Mantis’s touch.

Finally, Nebula moves closer, pressing her forehead to Mantis’s. She’s still full of uncertainty, but there’s affection there, too. It’s apprehensive and guarded, but it’s there and these feelings Mantis—baffling and startling though they may be for someone like Nebula—outweigh all the doubt and unease and fear.

“I think I would like that, too.”

Mantis sighs happily as she falls into bed, happy to finally be in bed after a long day and smiles into her pillow as she settles comfortably into the mattress. Nebula lets out a little “oof” from where she’s lying beside her, jostled by Mantis’s dramatic flop into bed.

“And I thought I was violent,” Nebula mutters. “What if I had been asleep?”

“But you weren’t. And you only got into bed a few minutes ago; I know you did not fall asleep that fast.”

Nebula grunts, and Mantis finally rolls over to face her. “Sorry,” she giggles, unable to help herself at the way Nebula’s nose scrunches when she tries (and fails, in Mantis’s opinion) to scowl. “I didn’t mean to disturb you.”

She holds one hand up, palm out, and waits expectantly as Nebula eyes her grumpily. After a long pause she gives in with a huff and leans into Mantis’s touch. Mantis giggles again at the way Nebula melts into her touch and shifts close enough to press a kiss to her lips.

“Forgive me?” she asks, a teasing lilt to her voice.

“Mmph. Yes,” Nebula answers and leans in for another kiss, which Mantis happily returns.

They eventually break apart and settle into bed. It doesn’t take long for them to doze off, the quiet hum of Nebula’s cybernetics barely discernible in Mantis’s ear.

-

Mantis sleeps easily that night, and the several nights that follow until Nebula leaves again. She doesn’t sleep poorly when Nebula is away, but it does take her longer to drift off without her, which is one reason (among many) why she’s so enthused when Nebula announces her arrival over the comms.

That first night she’s back Mantis drops happily into bed and Nebula starts her usual grumblings when the bed jostles, to which Mantis replies, “You weren’t even asleep.”

“Are you even capable of getting calmly into bed?” There’s a hint of fond amusement in her voice despite her otherwise monotonous tone and somewhat grouchy expression.

“Nope,” Mantis responds cheerily, all too happy to keep playing along with their now-familiar game.

Nebula grunts but before she can reply further Mantis tucks into her side and snuggles close with a happy sigh. Nebula huffs out a quiet laugh and loops an arm her waist and Mantis falls asleep with the faint hum of Nebula’s cybernetics in her ear.

-

Once, after a particularly grueling excursion, Nebula returns in a smoking ship and with enough new cuts and bruises to make Mantis and Gamora both fuss over her (much to Nebula’s annoyance). She comes back in one piece, at least, and after a quick trip to the medbay to take care of the worst of her latest batch of injuries (at Mantis and Gamora’s insistence, of course) she lets Mantis drag her over to the ship’s couch with only minimal complaining.

It’s the least she can do after worrying her so badly.

Mantis is curled into Nebula’s side, their fingers laced together and her antennae glowing softly in contentment. Nebula’s tended to the worst of her injuries, but some part of her cybernetics has been damaged. What is usually little more than white noise is now an audible, droning hum. It isn’t serious (or at the very least, it isn’t fatal, Nebula had said when Gamora asked) but she does think something has been knocked out of place or might need fixing or replacing, and she isn’t sure she has the energy or tools to do that tonight.

The noise doesn’t bother Mantis, but she can feel the tension in Nebula’s shoulders and see the tight frown across her face. She’d long-since gotten used to the noise of her body mods over the years to the point of tuning it out, but recent damage had dragged the noise to the forefront of her mind again. Nebula had almost forgotten how grating it was.

Mantis peers up at her thoughtfully, and when Nebula notices she slits her eyes suspiciously in a silent question. Mantis opens then closes her mouth, shakes her head a little and laughs.

“What?”

“It’s just…do you know what a cat is?”

Nebula’s scowl changes into a look of confusion. “What?”

“They’re a Terran species—“

Nebula huffs. “You’ve been spending too much time with Quill again.”

“—species of animal,” Mantis continues, ignoring Nebula’s grumbling. “Peter says they do something called purring.”

“…Purring,” Nebula echoes, eyeing Mantis. She isn’t quite sure where Mantis is heading with this.

Mantis nods, trying and failing to hide her growing smile. “It is a vibratory kind of noise. Apparently, it is a sign of contentment and relaxation.” Nebula glares. Her cheeks flush a darker blue even as Mantis teasingly finishes, “It sounds like you’re purring.”

“The increased noise is the result of a fault in my cybernetics,” Nebula retorts. “It is nothing so saccharine.”

“I think it’s cute,” Mantis says, resting her head against Nebula’s shoulder.

“You are ridiculous,” Nebula growls embarrassedly.

“Maybe,” Mantis concedes. “But I distracted you from the noise.”

Nebula blinks at her, and then makes a face. “I suppose,” she mutters, slowly moving to lay her cheek against the top of Mantis’s head. “…Thank you.”

Mantis hums happily in reply and lets the fluttery, irregular thrum lull her further in relaxation.

-

Mantis notices, over time, that the best position to hear Nebula’s cybernetics (and therefore her favorite) is when she sprawls across Nebula, ear to her chest.

Nebula notices, too.

“Doesn’t it bother you?” she asks one night as Mantis gets ready for bed. Mantis looks at her questioningly as she gets comfortable, gradually nudging Nebula onto her back with her shifting. “My cybernetics. The noise,” Nebula clarifies.

“Why would it bother me?”

“Isn’t the noise…bothersome?” Nebula sounds genuinely baffled, and now it’s Mantis’s turn to be confused.

Mantis carefully settles across Nebula, crossing her arms across Nebula’s chest and resting her cheek on her arm, head angled to meet Nebula’s gaze. “I think it is comforting. It relaxes me.”

Nebula looks skeptical. She remembers how long it took her to get used to the endless, constant drone of her body mods, to learn how to tune it out. She remembers how maddening it was to never have a single second of silence to herself.

It takes a minute for Mantis to collect her thoughts, and when she does, she says slowly. “On Ego’s planet, there was scarcely any noise. We were the only living beings on his planet, and the silence when I was alone was maddening.”

Nebula doesn’t interrupt, but brushes her hand across the back of Mantis’s neck in quiet reassurance.

“But now,” Mantis continues, smiling at Nebula’s comforting gesture, “I am rarely alone, and when I am, there is always some kind of ambient noise to remind me of that. And you”—Mantis stretches until she can press a quick kiss to Nebula’s lip—“are my favorite.”

Nebula makes quiet, embarrassed sort of huff and Mantis settles back down with a giggle. Mantis feels Nebula shift beneath her until she’s comfortable, and then feels her arm settle across her waist.

“Sentimental fool,” Nebula mumbles. She’s quiet for a long time, long enough that Mantis almost thinks she’s finished speaking. “I sleep better with you, too.” She says it quickly and quietly, but there’s affection in her voice despite how flustered she sounds and feels.

The first time Mantis tells Nebula she thinks she’s pretty is a mistake. It’s not that she isn’t—Nebula is beautiful—it’s that. Well. They weren’t close and Nebula is…Nebula.

But she is breathtaking both in and out of a fight, strong and quick and deadly, and when she and Gamora have finished sparring and Nebula walks past Mantis can’t stop herself from blurting it out.

Nebula freezes, shoulders tensed. Her expression cycles from surprise to bewilderment to guarded suspicion in seconds and Mantis regrets opening her mouth immediately. Nebula doesn’t say anything, but she scowls, turns away, and stalks off.

Mantis is left with a burning sense of embarrassment at her outburst and she avoids watching any other sparring sessions for a while, even when Nebula is not involved.

Nebula leaves the Guardians again only a few short days later.

-

The first time they speak again after that is after another one of Nebula’s failed excursions. She returns in a smoking ship and with busted cybernetics and Gamora welcomes her back with a tight hug and clear relief that her sister is still in one piece.

“I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable.”

Nebula doesn’t respond right away, but Mantis can see the tension building in her shoulders and knows she has heard her. It’s the middle of the night. Mantis can’t sleep, Nebula is attempting to repair her damaged cybernetics, and they’re along on the bridge.

“The day after your sparring match,” Mantis clarifies when Nebula still doesn’t answer. “It was a few months ago now.”

“I remember,” Nebula says tightly.

There’s an uncomfortable pause. Mantis isn’t sure what to say, or if she should even say anything at all.

“I don’t need an apology. Your mocking means nothing to me.”

“It—I wasn’t mocking you,” Mantis says, a little surprised at the response. “And I wasn’t lying, either.”

“They why apologize?” Nebula demands.

“Because you seemed unhappy with my comment, and you have been avoiding me ever since. I do not want you to be uncomfortable around me.” Mantis forces her hands to stay relaxed at her sides, trying not to look as nervous as she feels.

Nebula stares at her intently, as if trying to determine if she’s being honest or not, then abruptly looks away. Mantis waits a moment longer, then gently says, “I’ll leave you be now,” and moves to leave.

“You can stay,” Nebula says abruptly. Her fingers curl and uncurl into fists. “Or you can go. I don’t care.”

She doesn’t look at Mantis, but she isn’t leaving, or chasing her away either, and so Mantis says, “I think I’ll stay, then,” settles down in a spot near a window, and tries to hide her growing smile.

-

The first time they spend time together—really spend time together, like actual hanging out and not just existing in the same room together—Mantis has somehow roped Nebula into listening to music with her.

Even Mantis isn’t quite sure how she managed that. Nebula has always been outspoken when it came to making fun of Peter (including his music, naturally) and yet despite all the grumbling and scowling she’s now sitting next to Mantis, one earbud in her ear, and letting Mantis show her some of her favorite songs.

She likes to think it’s because Nebula has developed a soft spot for her over the recent months.

“Why do you even have this?” Nebula grouses as Mantis thumbs through the list. “Quill never goes anywhere without his stupid music player.”

“He wanted to take advantage of our downtime and nap for a while,” Mantis says, “so he let me borrow the Zune.”

Nebula grumbles indistinctly, but quiets once Mantis selects a song and the first notes start up. Mantis watches from the corner of her eye, wanting to see Nebula’s reaction. Her expression is carefully blank, and Mantis wants so badly to reach out and touch her arm to know what she’s feeling.

Nebula catches her eye and starts. Mantis tries not to laugh; she reminds Mantis of Groot when he got caught trying to sneak some sweets before dinner. “What do you think?”

Nebula looks like she’s struggling with what to say. “It…isn’t terrible,” she eventually says.

“You don’t have to pretend to like it.” The amusement in Mantis’s voice is obvious.

“It’s not…it’s not bad. It’s very you. Sweet and cheerful—” She cuts herself off abruptly and pointedly avoids looking at Mantis. Her cheeks have darkened noticeably, and Mantis feels her own start to warm.

Nebula’s still not looking at Mantis, but she doesn’t get up to leave, so Mantis risks scooting closer and holds out the Zune. “Here,” she offers. “Let’s find something you’d like.”

Nebula slowly turns and leans close enough to see the screen. Together, they start scrolling down the list of songs.

-

The first time someone says something about it, it’s Peter, and in true Peter fashion he’s a bit of a dramatic dork about it. He catches her in the kitchen early enough one morning, in a rare moment where they’re the only ones awake, and he mentions that Nebula might be visiting soon.

“Oh?”

“Yeah,” Peter says. He has a strange look on his face, unusually scrutinizing. “Gamora said Nebula might be in the area sometime soon, so we might get a visit from our favorite murderous in-law.”

Mantis tries to act casual, but the thought of seeing Nebula again makes her heart flutter a little. “That would be nice. It has been a long time since Nebula’s visited; I’m sure Gamora would like that.”

Peter smacks his hands down on the table and Mantis jumps at the suddenness of such a loud sound in the otherwise quiet room. “Okay, I know what you’re doing and I’m not falling for it.”

“I’m not doing anything,” she protests, flustered.

“You’re pretending you don’t care! Or that you’re not as interested in the news as you really are!”

“I—I don’t know what you mean.”

“You like Nebula,” Peter says. “And she likes you back, and it’s killing me that my sister has a crush and isn’t doing anything about it.”

“I do not!” Mantis exclaims before the second half of Peter’s statement sinks in. “She…she likes me?” She’s almost embarrassed of how hopeful she sounds.

But Peter is Peter; he’s a sweet man and a good brother, and he just nods excitedly at her. “Gamora says Nebula asks about you all the time when they talk. In typical angry, pretending-not-to-care Nebula fashion, I mean. And you guys are always hanging out when she’s here. You’re like, the only person she willingly spends time with. Aside from Gamora, I mean.” He laughs a little. “You two really aren’t subtle.”

Mantis’s cheeks burn. “Am I really that obvious?”

Peter softens immediately and drops the joke. “Aw, hey, it’s not a bad thing,” he assures as he pulls her into a crushing hug. “Having a crush isn’t bad—though, I gotta say, Nebula? I wouldn’t have expected that. “She’s scary man—”

“Peter,” Mantis interrupts, voice muffled against his shoulder.

Peter releases her from the hug but keeps an arm wrapped comfortingly around her shoulders. “Sorry. My point is, nobody’s going to make fun of you, and anyone that does is going to have your whole pissed off family to deal with, okay?”

Mantis smiles weakly at him. “Thanks, Peter.”

“No prob.” He pats her shoulder. “And if you need anything, just let me know, yeah?”

“I will. Thank you.”

“Now, how do you want to do the whole ‘asking her out’ think? ’Cos I’ve always had good luck with music and dancing, but on Earth some people use flowers, and then in space there’s lots—”

“Peter.”

-

Their first real date contains a few other firsts, too.

They’re on a local little planet—ostensibly to refuel and restock the ship’s supplies, but Mantis and Nebula leave that to the rest of the Guardians—that Rocket snarkily calls “boring and pathetic,” Peter says is “simple,” and Gamora says is safe.

“It’s nearby, it’s out of the way, and it’s small,” Gamora had said when the Guardians had been deciding which planet to stop at. “We should have no trouble resupplying and finding entertainment until—”

“The bug and you murderous sister are done with their date, yeah yeah. We all know the reason you picked this town is ’cause you don’t want any cops on our tail if they start shit.”

“Why would we do anything to get arrested?” Mantis can’t fathom their date going that poorly but now that the thought’s been put in her head she can’t help but start worrying.

“Okay, look, nobody is going to get arrested,” Peter started, and that’s when Drax chimed in.

“Yes, Nebula is a fierce warrior. If she does not want to be arrested, she will not.

“Dude, that’s not helping.”

From there the conversation only further devolved into bickering (somehow on an entirely unrelated subject), and it was a relief to Mantis when the ship finally docked and she and Nebula were able to officially start their date.

To say they were both nervous would be an understatement.

They were walking a bit apart as they wandered slowly through the park. Neither had particularly wanted to stick around near the market, crowded and busy as it was, and the nearby park sounded quieter and more appealing anyways, so they had agreed that they would head there first and see where that would lead.

Nebula was…tense. Mantis didn’t have to touch her to know that much, but Mantis had no room to talk. They were both nervous. Mantis, certainly, had never dated before, and based off their past conversations, neither had Nebula.

“We can head back, if you would prefer,” Nebula interrupts her thoughts abruptly, after they’d been walking for a while.

Mantis stops and blinks confusedly at Nebula. “Go back?” She thinks she can hear a bit of panic in her voice; did Nebula not want to be here with her that badly?

“If you are regretting this, we can head back,” Nebula clarifies stiffly. She’s staring straight ahead, pointedly refusing to look at Mantis.

“I—no!” Mantis blurts out, and Nebula seems so startled by her outburst she snaps around to look at her. “Why would you—do you want to head back?”

“No!” Nebula bristles defensively. “But you seem tense. I thought maybe you might have begun to regret this.”

“I could say the same about you.” Mantis doesn’t realize she’s wringing her hands until her nails bite into the back of her hand. They stare at each for a long, awkward minute until Mantis finally admits, “I…am nervous, but it’s not because I don’t want to be with you. The Guardians put some silly thoughts in my head—”

“Idiots,” Nebula growls.

“—and I let it feed my nerves,” Mantis finishes. She feels a bit silly now, having said this out loud.

Nebula clenches and unclenches her hands and haltingly says, “I was nervous too. I thought you might not being enjoying this.”

Mantis slowly unlaces her hands and reaches tentatively for Nebula’s cybernetic hand, which hangs stiffly at her side. “Maybe we could…start over, and try again?”

Nebula’s hand twitches, their fingertips brushing. “I would like that.”

Mantis smiles; she still feels a little jittery, but instead of growing dread in the pit of her stomach she has butterflies. Nebula offers a tiny smile of her own in response and Mantis’s stomach flutters, then flips when Nebula lets her hold her other hand.

“Can I kiss you?” Mantis asks.

Nebula’s cheeks darken slightly. “Yes.”

Their first kiss is brief and clumsy, but it’s sweet and leaves Mantis feeling giddy and warm, especially when Nebula tips her head to follow Mantis and they end up with their foreheads pressed against each other. Nebula lets out a flustered little huff and squeezes Mantis’s hand fondly.

Nebula’s hands are rough and her grip is a little too tight, but Mantis never wants her to let go.

-

The first “I love you” is also the first time Mantis manages to talk Nebula into dancing.

There’s music drifting down from the speakers in the quadrant, and Mantis sits up from where she’d been leaning against Nebula’s shoulder as she read.

“Quill and his stupid music,” Nebula grumbles (because really, if he wants to listen to that blasted Zune all the time then fine, but why inflict that on everyone else by playing it over the speakers?) at the same time Mantis says:

“Oh, I like this song.” Mantis shifts and Nebula can practically feel her staring imploringly at her. “Nebula…,” she starts.

“No.”

“You don’t even know what I’m going to say!”

“You’re going to ask me to dance. The answer is no.”

Mantis leans closer, laying a hand on Nebula’s cybernetic forearm for support. “Oh, please? Just one dance, Nebula.”

“I don’t dance. No,” Nebula repeats flatly.

“Not even for me?”

Nebula finally turns to fix her scowl on Mantis, only to falter when she sees Mantis’s endearingly sweet, pleading expression.

That was a mistake, Nebula thinks. She opens her mouth to refuse again but the words catch in her throat, and—sensing weakness—Mantis smiles hopefully.

Dammit.

They’d only been dating for a few short months—still so early in this relationship thing neither had any experience with—and yet, it seemed, Mantis already had her wrapped around her finger. Nebula wishes she could blame it on Mantis’s powers, but her hand is on Nebula’s prosthetic arm and even if it wasn’t she knows Mantis wouldn’t try to alter her feelings (she wouldn’t do that to her) but the alternative is that Nebula has gone soft and sappy like her sister and she isn’t sure if she can deal with that revelation right now so instead she takes the thought and shoves it to the very back of her mind and tries to forget about it.

“I hate when you do that,” Nebula growls, but there’s no real bite to her tone and Mantis lights up, sensing immediately that she’s won. She jumps out of her seat, tugging Nebula by the wrist and Nebula begrudgingly follows.

“Thank you for indulging me,” Mantis giggles. She pulls Nebula closer and takes her other hand, the one still covered in blue synthetic skin.

Nebula scowls. “Only for you,” she grumbles, and follows Mantis’s movements without complaint. “Just don’t tell anyone. If Quill finds out, I’ll never hear the end of it, and he will wind up with a knife in his throat.”

“Do not stab my brother, please,” Mantis chides, but she’s still smiling, too happy to pay Nebula’s grouchy threat any attention. “But, I won’t tell anyone. I promise.”

Nebula doesn’t say anything else, just follows Mantis’s lead. Not that it was a particularly complicated dance, as they opted to simply sway gently to the music, but Mantis wasn’t complaining. The fact Nebula was going along with it at all more than made up for the simplistic motions.

The song that started this has just ended when Mantis slides her hand up to Nebula’s wrist and gently guides her hand to her waist. She doesn’t protest, but Mantis feels her pulse spike. Mantis steps closer and loops her arms around Nebula’s neck, and Nebula tentatively moves her other hand to rest on Mantis’s waist.

Their movements slow until their swaying dance is lazy, barely a dance at all at this point. Nebula has recovered from her initial spike of adrenaline (gentle touches and physical affection are something she still hasn’t quite gotten used to), and has relaxed minutely, even seems to be almost enjoying herself. Mantis moves close enough to tuck herself under Nebula’s chin. After a moment, Nebula responds by resting her cheek against the crown of Mantis’s head.

So content in the moment, Mantis misses Nebula’s first mumbled comment. When she finally registers that Nebula has said something, she shakes herself alert and pulls back enough to look at Nebula, head cocked curiously. “What was that?”

Nebula’s brow creases, and Mantis feels the fingers at her waist curl into the fabric of her clothes with a restless, nervous sort of energy. “I said I love you,” she huffs, a little louder and more flustered.

At first Mantis is too surprised to reply, and then she breaks into a huge smile, cups Nebula’s cheek with one hand, and pulls her into a gleeful kiss, clumsy with the sheer giddy joy of I love you.

Nebula melts into the kiss and when they break apart Mantis presses her forehead to Nebula’s. The hand on her cheek slides down to rest across her chest.

“Sentimental sap,” she mumbles against Mantis’s skin, allowing the kiss to linger.

“Maybe, but you’re even worse than me.” Mantis changes positions, laying one arm across Nebula’s chest and propping her chin on her forearm so she can look at Nebula. She’s smiling still, but the humor from their teasing has faded, leaving behind only fondness.

Nebula had settled back against her pillow by now, eyes shut in lazy contentment. She was still smiling too, but Nebula’s smile was smaller, more subdued. She still had her fingers in Mantis’s hair, fingertips lightly brushing her scalp each time she ran her hand down the length of Mantis’s hair. Nebula repeats the motion for a bit, before her movements slow and then stop. Her hand rests against the back of Mantis’s neck, still entangled in her soft black hair.

She cracks open an eye, having felt Mantis’s gaze. “What?”

Mantis can’t help but giggle at the sight of her girlfriend, peering down at her—both eyes now slitted open—and trying very hard to look grumpy but utterly failing. “Nothing, just—“she reaches up with her free hand and gently strokes Nebula’s cheek with her knuckles—“thinking.”

Nebula’s eyes flutter close briefly and she leans her head into Mantis’s touch. Then her eyes open and the hand at Mantis’s neck slowly begins to move again, finally completing its last sweep through her hair. “What about?”

Mantis shrugs slightly, still looking into Nebula’s eyes. Nebula holds her gaze for a moment, but then her eyes slide shut and she goes back to running her hand through Mantis’s hair. Mantis moves her hand to cup Nebula’s cheek and traces a line along her jaw with her fingers.

The seconds tick by as Mantis’s hand comes to linger just below the side of Nebula’s jaw, near her throat.

She can feel her pulse.

Finally Mantis breaks the silence. “I’m just—” She pauses, starts over. “I was just thinking of how far we’ve come, regarding us. Our relationship.”

Nebula stares at her, and Mantis can feel her confusion bubbling slowly to the surface, but curiosity too so Mantis continues, wanting Nebula to understand what she means.

“I just mean, there’s trust between us now. A lot of it.” She runs her fingers her fingers down Nebula’s throat, tracing the silvery scar that was the seam between real and synthetic skin, and Nebula, almost unthinkingly, moves her head along with the motions of Mantis’s touch, angling her head and allowing easier access to the vulnerable flesh of her throat. “You wouldn’t have let me do this when our relationship first started.”

Nebula stills beneath her, her cheeks darkening, and Mantis can feel the complex tangle of her emotions fizzing and bubbling with nervous energy. “No,” Nebula says. “Her voice is rough and quiet. “I wouldn’t have.”

There’s some tension to Nebula’s voice, and body. Mantis can feel it. She runs her rubs her thumb reassuring across skin. Slowly, Nebula starts to relax again, and although she still seems flustered and her cheeks are a darker blue than they normally are, Mantis can feel the tension gradually drain from her girlfriend’s body. She changes positions again and noses her way under Nebula’s chin. Nebula finally disentangles her hand from Mantis’s hair and slides both arms down to loop around Mantis’s waist.

“Do you remember when we were first becoming intimate?” Mantis asks quietly. “How tense you used to be?”

Nebula lets out a little huff at the memory, and relaxes a little bit more. “Yes. I didn’t like you touching my abdomen. Or throat.”

“Especially your throat,” Mantis agrees. “But now it’s one of your favorite places to be kissed.”

Nebula makes a quiet noise as Mantis does exactly that, pressing quick kisses against the sensitive flesh there. “This is hardly fair,” she grumbles, trying not to squirm and somehow succeeding. “Going for the throat is a dirty trick.”

“You would have done the same,” Mantis answers playfully in between kisses. Nebula exhales sharply in response, but she can’t exactly argue. Mantis lets the next kiss linger thoughtfully, and when she speaks again her voice is sincere. “Thank you for trusting me. It makes me happy that you do.”

Nebula makes as if to speak again, but falters, the words lodged in her throat. Mantis doesn’t press her, just waits patiently. She rests her hand against Nebula’s collarbone and gently rubs her thumb across the soft skin there and sends Nebula all of her love.

Nebula tries again, and her voice is thick with emotion when she manages to get the words out. “I would trust you with my life, Mantis.”

And she does. It’s kind of a funny thought, when she really stops to think about it. Just a few years ago the thought would have never crossed her mind. It would have just been something to sneer at, a childish idea held only by fools. And, hell, maybe even as little as a year ago it would have been something to be leery of but—

“I love you, Nebula.” Mantis’s voice is soft and sweet and full of so much affection it makes Nebula want to burst even as it shakes her from her thoughts. Mantis’s antennae are glowing softly with contentment, and Nebula can feel the feathered ends gently brush against her jaw line with each breath Mantis takes.

It takes her a moment to collect herself enough to respond, breathing out a quiet, hoarse “I love you, too,” though she knows Mantis knows that she does even if she didn’t vocalize it, and not just because of her powers. It feels nice to say it though, and to hear it, Nebula thinks, and she knows Mantis agrees from the way she presses closer and murmurs sweetly in response, her voice muffled against Nebula’s skin.