[ 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--
[ OKAY. He's-- rubbing the back of his neck one moment, then shaking out his hands the next, then rolling his shoulders, then hopping up and down. All the usual hallmarks of someone trying to shake nervousness out of his system, short of diving face-first into a pool of water.
(Although there is a fountain nearby, and he'd be lying if he said he wasn't tempted, at least a little.)
Eventually he wanders his way back and without preamble, he dives right into it again. His voice shakes a little -- which is telling; even at his most nervous, he typically has enough in him to put up a front. With Maya, though, there's no need. She'd see right through it, anyway. ]
Okay, so. You and I have been together a while, which, like I said, is a miracle, and I'm pretty sure Rocket's lost at last fifteen bets by now, which, whatever, screw that guy. But-- I really love you. Like, seriously love you. And it's the scariest fucking thing I've ever experienced, you know? Like, seriously terrifying. Like, the unholy lovechild of Freddy Krueger and Michael Meyers hiding under my bed levels of terrifying, because if you asked me to jump off the top of the Nova Corps HQ, I'd totally do it. If you asked me to make an unsuited spacewalk? No problem. I'd take a million bullets for you. I'd fight a billion dudes for you. Hell, I'd let you phaselock me, if you really wanted to -- not just the regular one, either. The big fwooshy one with the pyrotechnics and acid and shit.
And it's like, I can say that. I could tell you that you've made me a much less shitty person. I could tell you a million times over how I learned it was okay to be honest and okay to be terrified and okay to get attached and okay to love someone so goddamn much it hurts. But at this point I feel like I've said it so much that I'm running out of ways to express it. And I just-- I want you to know that you mean a whole fuckin' lot to me, and you're just-- I just really want you to understand that.
[ Okay, he's starting to run out of steam, and his eyes start wandering, because what the hell does he do now?
Drax told him that his people made their proposals by drawing their own blood, then presenting a knife. A surprisingly symbolic gesture, given how literal his people are. My life is in your hands.
Yondu once told him Centaurians simply asked, then pressed their foreheads together -- I promise. I swear to you.
He casts his memory back and tries to remember the Terran tradition.
Oh. Right. The knee thing.
So Peter kneels down on one knee in front of her, fumbles in his pocket for the small box -- which he promptly drops to the ground before snatching it back up again -- and opens it for her. Inside is a simple ring: a silver, swirling band with a single diamond. ]
I just-- Don't feel obligated, okay? But-- would you, um-- [ He's totally nailing this. ] Will you marry me?
[ The slightly confused look doesn't leave her face as he talks- because while she always appreciates it when he's honest with her, when she knows how he feels- she has no idea where this is coming from or why.
She looks doubly confused when he kneels, but when that little box comes out of his pocket, everything snaps into place and Maya suddenly feels like the world is no longer beneath her.
Peter is asking her to marry him.
Peter Quill- the very same Peter that once swore he had no idea how relationships work, the same Peter that once had a mild panic attack at the mere mention of marriage- is asking her to marry him. God, no wonder he's been a wreck lately.
She'd been so worried, but now it seems so silly. ]
Yes. [ she's saying it before her brain has caught up with the rest of her- but she's never been so sure of anything in her entire life. The smile on her face is enough to power a small city, and she laughs, saying it again with more conviction. ] Yes. Of course I will.
[ He-- stares. For a few seconds longer then necessary.
Then he sags with relief when it finally registers that she said yes, because for a second there he thought she would seriously phaselock him out of shock or surprise or something, and that would've been about the most embarrassing thing that could've happened.
(Actually, the most embarrassing thing would've been if she had straight up laughed in his face and said no. He's not sure what he would've done if that had happened. (Cry like a three-year-old with a skinned knee, probably.))
But his grin matches hers, and he laughs a little, despite it all -- a weird, giddy noise that he isn't quite sure he's ever made before or ever will again. And before he knows it, he's slipping the ring on her finger.
(It's not quite right, unfortunately -- just a smidgen too big, but it can be fixed.)
And since he's pretty much barfed out all of the words he could think of in those last few minutes, he skips the thank yous (thank you, thank you, thank you), skips the holy fucking shit, are you for real? You said yes?, skips the I'm the luckiest fucking bastard ever, and goes straight to the kissing.
The kissing, at least, he can manage well enough. ]
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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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[ SHE IS SO CONFUSED AND SLIGHTLY WORRIED, but she'll let him have a moment?? She supposes??? ]
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(Although there is a fountain nearby, and he'd be lying if he said he wasn't tempted, at least a little.)
Eventually he wanders his way back and without preamble, he dives right into it again. His voice shakes a little -- which is telling; even at his most nervous, he typically has enough in him to put up a front. With Maya, though, there's no need. She'd see right through it, anyway. ]
Okay, so. You and I have been together a while, which, like I said, is a miracle, and I'm pretty sure Rocket's lost at last fifteen bets by now, which, whatever, screw that guy. But-- I really love you. Like, seriously love you. And it's the scariest fucking thing I've ever experienced, you know? Like, seriously terrifying. Like, the unholy lovechild of Freddy Krueger and Michael Meyers hiding under my bed levels of terrifying, because if you asked me to jump off the top of the Nova Corps HQ, I'd totally do it. If you asked me to make an unsuited spacewalk? No problem. I'd take a million bullets for you. I'd fight a billion dudes for you. Hell, I'd let you phaselock me, if you really wanted to -- not just the regular one, either. The big fwooshy one with the pyrotechnics and acid and shit.
And it's like, I can say that. I could tell you that you've made me a much less shitty person. I could tell you a million times over how I learned it was okay to be honest and okay to be terrified and okay to get attached and okay to love someone so goddamn much it hurts. But at this point I feel like I've said it so much that I'm running out of ways to express it. And I just-- I want you to know that you mean a whole fuckin' lot to me, and you're just-- I just really want you to understand that.
[ Okay, he's starting to run out of steam, and his eyes start wandering, because what the hell does he do now?
Drax told him that his people made their proposals by drawing their own blood, then presenting a knife. A surprisingly symbolic gesture, given how literal his people are. My life is in your hands.
Yondu once told him Centaurians simply asked, then pressed their foreheads together -- I promise. I swear to you.
He casts his memory back and tries to remember the Terran tradition.
Oh. Right. The knee thing.
So Peter kneels down on one knee in front of her, fumbles in his pocket for the small box -- which he promptly drops to the ground before snatching it back up again -- and opens it for her. Inside is a simple ring: a silver, swirling band with a single diamond. ]
I just-- Don't feel obligated, okay? But-- would you, um-- [ He's totally nailing this. ] Will you marry me?
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She looks doubly confused when he kneels, but when that little box comes out of his pocket, everything snaps into place and Maya suddenly feels like the world is no longer beneath her.
Peter is asking her to marry him.
Peter Quill- the very same Peter that once swore he had no idea how relationships work, the same Peter that once had a mild panic attack at the mere mention of marriage- is asking her to marry him. God, no wonder he's been a wreck lately.
She'd been so worried, but now it seems so silly. ]
Yes. [ she's saying it before her brain has caught up with the rest of her- but she's never been so sure of anything in her entire life. The smile on her face is enough to power a small city, and she laughs, saying it again with more conviction. ] Yes. Of course I will.
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Then he sags with relief when it finally registers that she said yes, because for a second there he thought she would seriously phaselock him out of shock or surprise or something, and that would've been about the most embarrassing thing that could've happened.
(Actually, the most embarrassing thing would've been if she had straight up laughed in his face and said no. He's not sure what he would've done if that had happened. (Cry like a three-year-old with a skinned knee, probably.))
But his grin matches hers, and he laughs a little, despite it all -- a weird, giddy noise that he isn't quite sure he's ever made before or ever will again. And before he knows it, he's slipping the ring on her finger.
(It's not quite right, unfortunately -- just a smidgen too big, but it can be fixed.)
And since he's pretty much barfed out all of the words he could think of in those last few minutes, he skips the thank yous (thank you, thank you, thank you), skips the holy fucking shit, are you for real? You said yes?, skips the I'm the luckiest fucking bastard ever, and goes straight to the kissing.
The kissing, at least, he can manage well enough. ]
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