[ Peter Quill is not, by any stretch of the imagination, a traditional man.
He was raised by a single mother; he was kidnapped by alien pirates; he was raised by alien pirates; and he was more or less left to his own devices as long as he didn't inadvertently set anything on fire. His independent streak was only cemented when, after a job well done at the age of seventeen, Peter was rewarded with his own ship -- an M-Class and a hand-me-down -- and was allowed to take solo jobs.
Every once in a while he used to think, wouldn't it be nice? Wouldn't it be nice to have something normal, something consistent in his life? Wouldn't it be nice to have more than just a bed and a fridge full of beer and an empty ship to come back to? And for a while bringing back someone to share the night with was enough to satisfy that weird ache, but soon enough that became the wrong sort of routine, too.
But then there was his team. And then there was Maya.
Opening himself to the idea of a steady relationship had been worrying, at first. He never thought it would be something he could do, thought it'd be something he'd screw up immediately, nevermind the whole mess of attachment and weakness and vulnerability. It was like wandering into a dark room and hoping you didn't step on a Lego. It took a whole lot of time and a shitton of effort, he managed to do it.
But love? That was sending yourself out into the vacuum of space without a suit. It was dumb and reckless and terrifying. He had ventured out into space with only the clothes on his back to protect him once before, and for a few harrowing seconds he wasn't sure he would survive. He never wanted to do it again. But with Maya, he thinks if he had to do it to stay with her, if he had to do it as an act of faith or of loyalty or even if she asked him to just for fun, he would leap out of the Milano a million times over.
Obviously he hopes that won't be necessary. He's done a lot of terrifying, idiotic things in his life, and jumping out unprotected into the freezing void is way up there.
What he's about to do, he thinks, has all that other shit beat. Hands-down. No contest. He tells himself, Hey, past-Peter, you think carrying the containment unit for the Infinity Stone was scary, after experiencing its power firsthand? Try carrying a goddamn ring in your pocket. See how you feel then.
There are only two people who know what he's about to ask. The first is Lilith, who was puzzled as hell when he called, but was less puzzled when he explained the Terran tradition of asking for permission. She had said something along the lines of it's about fucking time and Krieg is gonna be so pissed.
The second was Drax, who had noticed Peter's growing anxiety over the course of several days and saw it for what it was. "I have experienced this agitation, my friend," Drax had said. "When I proposed the idea of marriage to Hovat, I, too, experienced uncertainty to the point of destruction."
(... I think you mean you were a nervous wreck, big guy.
"Yes. That is what I said.")
It's evening on Xandar, the night air crisp and cool, and the Guardians had been shepherded off by Drax, much to Peter's eternal gratitude. It's only when he and Maya reach the restaurant that Peter realizes that Xandar had been a mistake, even if it had been the location of their first date. Dinner had been a chore, with people dropping by to say hello or thanking him and his team for their service in stopping Ronan the Accuser. Any other time he would be preening from the attention or he'd be laughing as Maya tried desperately to keep his ego in check. Right then? Seriously inconvenient.
Even worse, all these interruptions have totally thrown him off his game, and he knows it's making him act weird. If it weren't for all these people, he totally would've been smooth and suave like Double-Oh-Seven. Instead, he's babbling and quiet by turns, and getting worse with each I'm sorry to bother you, buts.
He has his face covered by his hand, right about now, feigning as though he's rubbing his temple to ward off a headache. This is the worst fucking thing, he thinks to himself. This is worse than trying to hide out from fifteen jilted one-night stands, because these people totally mean well and probably don't want to stab him with kitchen utensils. ]
You mind if we skip dessert? Or, like, go somewhere else, at least? This is seriously getting old.
He's been somewhat skittish and preoccupied, and every time she asked about it, he would joke and brush her off. Honestly, it was starting to worry her a little.
And now here they are, here they are getting interrupted by Peter's adoring public and Peter seems annoyed.
Okay, cool. Groot. [ He blinks, then what he says next comes out in a rush. ] Shit. I mean-- not Groot. I meant to say "great" but it kind of came out "good--"
-- Just. Just forget I said anything, right then.
[ Peter doesn't embarrass easily, but right now his cheeks color a little; he waves at their waiter for the check. Immediately after, the restaurant's owner comes by their table, tells them the meal was comped, and then proceeds to take away ten minutes of Peter and Maya's lives that they'll never get back.
So much for a quick getaway.
By the time the owner leaves, Peter just that much more sure that Xandar was a mistake. He sighs and scrubs his face with his hand. ]
[ she nods, though it's a distracted motion. She's not sure if Peter's annoyance is catching or if she's aggravated because she wants to know why the fuck he's acting so strangely, but there was a point when the restaurant owner was yammering on that she was about to say something very rude.
Or maybe phaselock him. Hard to tell which. ]
Let's get out of here. All these people are starting to give me a headache.
[ They exit the restaurant, Peter keeping his head low to avoid drawing further attention -- last thing he wants is to be stopped at the door by a well-meaning citizen, wanting to tell them how thankful he is, about the family he and his team had saved. Normally he'd eat it up. It was nice to be reminded, every once in a while, that you aren't such a total fuck up. Today? It's wasting his time and fraying at his already worn nerves.
He keeps his hands in his pockets as they walk; he's leading them to one of the many nearby parks, and he's hoping that the late hour means it'll be far less populated. He toys with the small box in his coat pocket, twisting it and spinning it and just-- doing anything with it except actually pulling it out. Now's not the right time, he thinks. There hasn't been a good time all night, and it's been frustrating.
He should've had a better plan than, "Wait for the right moment." ]
Hey, um. [ He clears his throat when his voice comes out a little pinched, then rubs the back of his neck with his free hand. ] Sorry about back there. Didn't-- really think it'd be that bad. The people, I mean. Like, um. Maybe we should've gone to a bar.
[ Yeah, that would've been real romantic, Quill. ]
[ The park seems like a good idea, and Maya spots a bench in a relatively secluded area, lorded over by strange trees and behind a low garden wall that has plants she can’t even name spilling over the edge of it. She doesn’t really respond to what grabs Peter has to say about going elsewhere- she’s a bit preoccupied- and grabs him by the elbow, guiding him to the bench.
[ He was going for a nice, sedate pace, so when Maya grabs him, it catches him all the more off-guard, and he manages a quiet, "Hey!" before they're both seated.
Tonight is seriously not going as planned.
He puts up both of his hands as if in surrender (though he's careful to ensure the box doesn't slip out of his pocket, first). ]
[ She does not buy it for one second, and she wishes he would just tell her. It's really starting to bother her, and she crosses her arms over her chest ]
If that's the case then we should have stayed back on the ship.
[ He hesitates for a second, then takes her hand. It takes another second for him to look her in the eye, and when he speaks, he's quiet and earnest. ]
I just-- want you to know I really love you. Like, a whole fucking lot. You know that, right?
[ wow way to make it sound like you're dying, Quill. ]
I just-- like, I thought maybe-- I mean, we've been through a lot together, and you've put up with a lot of my shit, which, frankly, is a miracle, and I thought-- Well, I mean, maybe it's not my kinda thing-- No, hang on, that makes it sound like I think this is a bad idea. I mean, I know it seems weird for me to do this, but--
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please baby go all the way
He was raised by a single mother; he was kidnapped by alien pirates; he was raised by alien pirates; and he was more or less left to his own devices as long as he didn't inadvertently set anything on fire. His independent streak was only cemented when, after a job well done at the age of seventeen, Peter was rewarded with his own ship -- an M-Class and a hand-me-down -- and was allowed to take solo jobs.
Every once in a while he used to think, wouldn't it be nice? Wouldn't it be nice to have something normal, something consistent in his life? Wouldn't it be nice to have more than just a bed and a fridge full of beer and an empty ship to come back to? And for a while bringing back someone to share the night with was enough to satisfy that weird ache, but soon enough that became the wrong sort of routine, too.
But then there was his team. And then there was Maya.
Opening himself to the idea of a steady relationship had been worrying, at first. He never thought it would be something he could do, thought it'd be something he'd screw up immediately, nevermind the whole mess of attachment and weakness and vulnerability. It was like wandering into a dark room and hoping you didn't step on a Lego. It took a whole lot of time and a shitton of effort, he managed to do it.
But love? That was sending yourself out into the vacuum of space without a suit. It was dumb and reckless and terrifying. He had ventured out into space with only the clothes on his back to protect him once before, and for a few harrowing seconds he wasn't sure he would survive. He never wanted to do it again. But with Maya, he thinks if he had to do it to stay with her, if he had to do it as an act of faith or of loyalty or even if she asked him to just for fun, he would leap out of the Milano a million times over.
Obviously he hopes that won't be necessary. He's done a lot of terrifying, idiotic things in his life, and jumping out unprotected into the freezing void is way up there.
What he's about to do, he thinks, has all that other shit beat. Hands-down. No contest. He tells himself, Hey, past-Peter, you think carrying the containment unit for the Infinity Stone was scary, after experiencing its power firsthand? Try carrying a goddamn ring in your pocket. See how you feel then.
There are only two people who know what he's about to ask. The first is Lilith, who was puzzled as hell when he called, but was less puzzled when he explained the Terran tradition of asking for permission. She had said something along the lines of it's about fucking time and Krieg is gonna be so pissed.
The second was Drax, who had noticed Peter's growing anxiety over the course of several days and saw it for what it was. "I have experienced this agitation, my friend," Drax had said. "When I proposed the idea of marriage to Hovat, I, too, experienced uncertainty to the point of destruction."
(... I think you mean you were a nervous wreck, big guy.
"Yes. That is what I said.")
It's evening on Xandar, the night air crisp and cool, and the Guardians had been shepherded off by Drax, much to Peter's eternal gratitude. It's only when he and Maya reach the restaurant that Peter realizes that Xandar had been a mistake, even if it had been the location of their first date. Dinner had been a chore, with people dropping by to say hello or thanking him and his team for their service in stopping Ronan the Accuser. Any other time he would be preening from the attention or he'd be laughing as Maya tried desperately to keep his ego in check. Right then? Seriously inconvenient.
Even worse, all these interruptions have totally thrown him off his game, and he knows it's making him act weird. If it weren't for all these people, he totally would've been smooth and suave like Double-Oh-Seven. Instead, he's babbling and quiet by turns, and getting worse with each I'm sorry to bother you, buts.
He has his face covered by his hand, right about now, feigning as though he's rubbing his temple to ward off a headache. This is the worst fucking thing, he thinks to himself. This is worse than trying to hide out from fifteen jilted one-night stands, because these people totally mean well and probably don't want to stab him with kitchen utensils. ]
You mind if we skip dessert? Or, like, go somewhere else, at least? This is seriously getting old.
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He's been somewhat skittish and preoccupied, and every time she asked about it, he would joke and brush her off. Honestly, it was starting to worry her a little.
And now here they are, here they are getting interrupted by Peter's adoring public and Peter seems annoyed.
What in the world was going on? ]
Uh, sure. If you want.
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Okay, cool. Groot. [ He blinks, then what he says next comes out in a rush. ] Shit. I mean-- not Groot. I meant to say "great" but it kind of came out "good--"
-- Just. Just forget I said anything, right then.
[ Peter doesn't embarrass easily, but right now his cheeks color a little; he waves at their waiter for the check. Immediately after, the restaurant's owner comes by their table, tells them the meal was comped, and then proceeds to take away ten minutes of Peter and Maya's lives that they'll never get back.
So much for a quick getaway.
By the time the owner leaves, Peter just that much more sure that Xandar was a mistake. He sighs and scrubs his face with his hand. ]
Ready to go?
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Or maybe phaselock him. Hard to tell which. ]
Let's get out of here. All these people are starting to give me a headache.
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[ They exit the restaurant, Peter keeping his head low to avoid drawing further attention -- last thing he wants is to be stopped at the door by a well-meaning citizen, wanting to tell them how thankful he is, about the family he and his team had saved. Normally he'd eat it up. It was nice to be reminded, every once in a while, that you aren't such a total fuck up. Today? It's wasting his time and fraying at his already worn nerves.
He keeps his hands in his pockets as they walk; he's leading them to one of the many nearby parks, and he's hoping that the late hour means it'll be far less populated. He toys with the small box in his coat pocket, twisting it and spinning it and just-- doing anything with it except actually pulling it out. Now's not the right time, he thinks. There hasn't been a good time all night, and it's been frustrating.
He should've had a better plan than, "Wait for the right moment." ]
Hey, um. [ He clears his throat when his voice comes out a little pinched, then rubs the back of his neck with his free hand. ] Sorry about back there. Didn't-- really think it'd be that bad. The people, I mean. Like, um. Maybe we should've gone to a bar.
[ Yeah, that would've been real romantic, Quill. ]
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And without any preamble: ]
All right, what’s wrong?
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Tonight is seriously not going as planned.
He puts up both of his hands as if in surrender (though he's careful to ensure the box doesn't slip out of his pocket, first). ]
Nothing's wrong, honest. Scout's Honor.
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And now tonight you're distracted, you're annoyed. You don't even enjoy that fact that people keep calling you a hero.
So what is it?
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If that's the case then we should have stayed back on the ship.
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I just, you know. Thought a change of scenery would be nice, is all.
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I'm sorry.
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Oh man, this is my second shitty date, and we've had like, what, ten? Officially?
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I just-- want you to know I really love you. Like, a whole fucking lot. You know that, right?
[ wow way to make it sound like you're dying, Quill. ]
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[ It's obvious by the look on her face that she's still a little concerned over his behavior, but she clasps her free hand over his ]
... Are you sure you're okay?
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I just-- like, I thought maybe-- I mean, we've been through a lot together, and you've put up with a lot of my shit, which, frankly, is a miracle, and I thought-- Well, I mean, maybe it's not my kinda thing-- No, hang on, that makes it sound like I think this is a bad idea. I mean, I know it seems weird for me to do this, but--
[ he may never stop ]
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As it is, Peter likely has never had a single thought, like, ever, so mostly he just exhales loudly and looks frustrated. ]
Right. Okay. I can totally do this.
... Just give me a sec.
[ Surprise, he gets to his feet and moves a few paces away. Sorry, Maya. ]
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