#hunter.writes

“Shit!”

Rocket yelling expletives was not a new thing, but in your head you saw him lying in the med-bay, tubes and wires attached, foaming at the mouth

The events with the High Evolutionary was only but a month ago. Rocket wasn’t fully over it—you weren’t sure if he ever would be. And you, you definitely weren’t over it. The footage from the OrgoCorp file, the sight of Rocket nearly dead

It scared you, it still scares you

So you knocked and entered his room, knowing well enough that Rocket would never have opened the door or even shouted, asking who was bothering him

You first noticed the overturned cup and the pool of water near his bedside. His blanket had been tossed haphazardly to the floor, soaking up some of the liquid

You then met Rocket’s gaze, mirroring his frown—though yours was one of concern

“Rocket?”

Your voice was high-pitched and unsure, causing you to inwardly cringe

Rocket looked away, very much wishing now that he could bury himself under the covers

You walked toward the bed, noting how his ear twitched at the sound of your footsteps, how his brows furrowed and his nose scrunched up

If it were a totally different situation, you very well could have blurted out how cute you found him to his face

“What are ya doing? Get out of my room.”

He spoke with a gruffness that only comes when you stop yourself from crying but your throat still feels thick

You didn’t answer him, not really knowing what to say without sounding awkward. Instead, you cleaned up his mess. You found an extra blanket and draped it over his lap before joining him on the bed, your back against the wall

You figured halfway through cleaning that it wasn’t necessary for the two of you to talk about it. For now, at least. For now, you just wanted to offer your presence. To be somebody who’s there without making Rocket feel embarrassed about needing somebody in the first place

Rocket had been silent. His arms might’ve been crossed and his brows still tightly knit, but he hadn’t told you to leave a second time

You thought of telling him something funny but found your supply of witty remarks running low. You opened and closed your mouth, trying to muster any kind of words that weren’t “Are you okay?” and “You wanna talk about it?”

“You want to watch one of those Terran movies you like?”

You stopped fiddling with the hem of your sweater, and a smile replaced your cautious expression.

Of all the things he could have said or done…

You didn’t hesitate, lest he take back the rare offer.

“Sure.”

You didn’t do this often. Rations were low and trips to Earth were few and far between. But you wanted this to be special for him, so you grabbed Rocket by the hand, earning a grunt, and led him to your room.

Rocket had never stepped foot inside your quarters, let alone ten feet of it. He found it uniquely Terran, but even more uniquely you

Lamps and string lights you either brought with you from home or found in a junk shop, posters from favorite bands, television shows, and movies, plants—some more loved than others—and books you’ve read as a child

It was starkly different from Quill’s bunk, that’s for sure. Smelled better, too

You shifted some pillows and opened your laptop

“Make yourself comfortable. I’m just gonna grab some things. You can look for a movie in the meantime.”

You gave him a smile and was even bold enough to run a hand through his fur to the top of his spine. He was soft, and he didn’t flinch or bite at you.

You returned five minutes later with a bowl of popcorn, the last of your microwaveable packets, and found Rocket toying with a stuffed animal Drax had gifted you. It was quite ugly but the sentiment was there.

You nestled yourself close to the raccoon, pulled the covers up, placed the bowl between you two, and pressed play.

You woke up to heavy breathing. Next to you was Rocket’s form, his face twisted in anguish and his limbs twitching

You glimpsed your surroundings. A small desk lamp across the room was still on, your laptop and empty bowl were discarded on the floor, the covers had been kicked off by Rocket and covered only a portion of your legs now

You don’t remember falling asleep or even moving your things off the bed

You inched closer to him and rested your hand on his back, rubbing soothing circles. You felt the metal pieces embedded in his body

“Rocket. Rocket, you’re okay.”

Your voice was but a whisper, but his breath caught and his eyes opened to meet yours

“Hey. It’s still a little early. Peter’s still at the wheel, though he’s probably fallen asleep by now,” you chuckled. “It’s not your shift for a while. We should get some more sleep while we can.”

You didn’t want to bring up the nightmare or the fact that you both fell asleep together or the fact that you were touching him and he hadn’t shrugged you off yet

But you made sure to remind him of where he was, who he was with. The Arête’s no more. Rocket’s just on a ship, going who knows where with his friends, answering distress calls and saving the galaxy

He didn’t speak. His eyes darted from your face to your steadily rising and falling chest to the hand that rested on his back. With each second, his vision grew clearer and further away from his wretched memories

“Stay with me?”

You asked for his sake. Rocket nodded ever so slightly and shifted so that his back was to your chest, his head tucked under your chin.

You raised the covers and loosely draped your arm over his side. You didn’t want him to feel any more suffocated than he might’ve felt when dreaming.