viii (as an apology) from that list!
8. As an apology -- send me a prompt and i’ll write a few paragraphs based on it!
Stars never stood out to Gamora much before this -- this Terran tradition that Peter seems to hold dear. There is something soothing about stargazing, though, especially when snuggled up to someone as soft and warm as Peter. Her head rests on his chests. She listens to his heartbeat, listens to the soft sounds of the zune playing close by, as her eyes peek up at the stars overhead. No light pollution allows for the millions of them to shine brightly, swimming in the shade of night. It’s stunning.
Peter’s favorite game is finding shapes to make up his own constellations. It’s pointless, but endearing, she thinks. Like a secret they both share any time they stare up at the night sky -- like the constellation Peter dubbed as Pac-Man (some earth video game that Gamora doesn’t understand the hype for. A small yellow circle collecting smaller white circles doesn’t seem that entertaining) is something that they only know. And… that name…
Her mind reels back to Ego, the times before, during, and after. It was a stupidly common theme with Peter during all that, which kind of soils the idea of Pac-Man for her. But it seems like it hasn’t for him, which she supposes is a good thing at least. Still…
“Peter?” She sits up to gaze at his face.
His green eyes are tired, barely peeking open. (It is pretty late, and it is comfortable swaddled up in all these blankets on the warm grass.) But they become alert at the sound of his name, and he smiles, reflexively.
“Yes?” His voice is thick with sleepiness.
Gamora’s heart lurches. She bites her bottom lip in attempt to collect her thoughts, in attempt to prepare for something heavy.
“Back on Ego’s planet --” she flinches at saying it out loud, and Peter noticeably tenses under her “-- we had that disagreement.” Disagreement is an understatement. That fight on there -- it was just so -- ridiculous. Childish of her. She knew Peter was in a vulnerable place, and she was being a bit unfair. But it was a heated moment, and --
“I’m sorry,” Peter replies in a hushed voice, his smile paling.
“No, Peter,” she sighs, and she wraps an arm tightly around him, pulling him closer. “That’s why I brought it up. I wanted to apologize. I am sorry for saying those things.” She swallows. “I accept your apology, too, though. I know you didn’t mean the things you said either.”
His jaw slacks, his eyes widen as fresh tears brim in them. A thousand emotions process in his eyes. He bites his quivering lip, and nods frantically.
“Yeah -- Yeah, I was a bit of a dick. I’m sorry about that. I shouldn’t let anything come between us or our family like that again. To be fair, I had my ass handed to me, so I guess that kinda makes it even.”
Gamora shakes her head. She didn’t wish for those circumstances -- never in a thousand years. Peter didn’t deserve any of those things.
Her fingers curl around his side, lightly kneading into it. That seems to soothe him as he relaxes under her touch. She brings her other hand up to brushes away his tears threatening to spill over. She offers him a reassuring half-smile.
“You and I both know that wasn’t your punishment. You didn’t deserve that, Peter.”
“I…” He goes quiet, then. Only the sounds of him choking back his sobs escapes him, settles into small and pitiful whimpers as the tears fall down his cheeks.
A part of her knows he’s fighting the urge to argue it, but the sensitive topic seems to withdraw him into his thoughts, pushes him into crying. It’s still overwhelming for him. Gamora understands.
She shifts their position, where he’s more tucked under her arm, brings the hand that was kneading into his side up against his neck to rub it and play with the stray curls resting against it. Peter’s fingers hook into the back of her shirt, clinging to her as if it keeps him from fading.
Gamora looks up at the night sky, returning to the past along with Peter for a few moments. She tries not to dwell on the past, but sometimes it can’t be helped. Ego is a traumatizing point in all their lives, but especially for Peter. A lot of things sprouted from it. Some good -- she looks back down at Peter, curled in her arms like he’s meant to be there -- and some bad. Like these awful memories washing over the both of them. That conflict was easily the worst in their time together -- even worse than their physical fight back on Xandar so long ago. Physical fights are easy to return from, but emotional, verbal ones...
And she can’t begin to fathom what would’ve happened if Peter hadn’t returned to her alive. She quickly dismisses the notion. She’s just glad that --
“I am glad that we had a chance to apologize,” she tells him aloud. Because how would she live with herself knowing those were some of the last moments with Peter? Save for the excruciating battle they all had to endure, but that time was limited. Not as precious. All she would be able to think of was the fight beforehand, and if he had iced over like Yondu.
Her eyes begin to sting with her own tears. Peter is always so reckless. Their unspoken thing would’ve remained unspoken had Yondu not been there to save him. And that -- that is just so unfair. It’s not fair that he takes half of her heart each time they go into battle.
“Me too,” he replies, but his eyebrows knit in worry. He brings his own hand up to cup her cheek. “Hey, what’s wrong?”
She gazes at him silently, relishes in his soft touch, the way his calloused hand is a stark contrast to her soft skin. She relishes in the sound of his voice, the sound of his breathing, the sound of music filling the air around them as it always does when Peter is around. She indulges herself, staring in his bright eyes, awestruck by the way the stars reflect in them. A sense of clarity sweeps over her as she melts at his nose and cheeks that are red from the surge of tears that briefly escaped him.
Gamora loves Peter -- she’s told him countless times. But as they recall on all of these things, it becomes clear to her how much she does.
He turns his head slightly, curiously like he always does, and it stops her heart mid-beat. She loves him more than words can say. She presses a soft kiss to his forehead, letting her lips linger there.
Perhaps their unspoken thing is just that -- their love something beyond spoken words.
Or sometimes it comes in something like an apology.
“I am sorry. For everything.” He didn’t deserve any of it.
