Characters: Star-Lord, Rocket, Drax
Genre: humor & friendship
Rated: K

Feel the Beat

Peter Quill sat in the cockpit of the Milano, tapping his fingers to the feel-good groove of "Come and Get Your Love".

Rocket Raccoon leaned back in the oversized seat next to Quill and motioned his toes to the beat. "Not bad," the raccoon said, "Kind of makes you feel all warm inside, just like the smell of burning circuits and smoldering metal."

Quill glanced at Rocket. "Remember that engine coil you removed from my ship and attached to your fancy new weapon?"

"You mean this thing?"

Rocket pulled a contraption seemingly out of nowhere and waved it in the air. It looked like a ball with spikes coming out of it. With no apparent barrel or trigger, there was no doubt in Quill's mind that it was capable of blowing up the ship.

Quill sat up wide eyed and nervously smiled. "Yeah, that thing. Now why don't you put it down, gently, and put the coil back where it belongs before you blow us into space. Sounds like a deal?"

Drax had just walked through the cockpit doors looking intense as always. "Do as Star-Lord says," the warrior growled.

Rocket stood on the chair and balanced the contraption on a palm. "Please, I'm a professional."

"Rodent," Drax muttered as he made his way to the console. He glanced at Quill, "How much further till—"

"Wow, wow, wow," Rocket said waving his tiny hand. "Excuse me?"

Quill rolled his eyes. "Not again."

"What did you call me?"

Drax slowly turned to the raccoon and edged closer until their noses were inches apart. The warrior's eyes were stone cold like he wanted to eat the small creature whole. Rocket was showing teeth, claws primed to gouge eyes.

"Ro…dent." Drax smiled. His eyes lingered over the small beast, waiting for the predicted reaction.

Rocket's fur stood on end; his eyes becoming narrow black slits as he glared at the man many times his size. The raccoon's expression suddenly softened and he threw the contraption over his shoulder. "Ahh, you ain't worth it." He jumped down from the seat as Quill leapt up from his to catch the would-be bomb from hitting the ground. Rocket muttered something incomprehensible as he exited the cockpit and closed the door behind him.

Recovering from what felt like a heart-attack, Quill rested Rocket's contraption on the dashboard then gave Drax a look of disappointment. "You know he's sensitive with the name calling."

"He is tiny and infantile. He is also hairy and has an off-putting odor."

Quill was never one to keep order. He pretty much grew up on a ship where the only thing that mattered was the next job and his share of the profits. But it was different now. This was his team; the Guardians of the Galaxy. He had responsibilities or something right?

Quill patted the empty seat. "Take a seat my friend. I want you to listen to something."

Drax raised a brow as if he knew he was going to be appalled by the human's strange melodies. After a moment, the warrior sat down stiffly, ready to stand back up again.

"Relax," Quill said as he flipped to the next track. He started bobbing his head to the introduction.

"What is the task I am to do?" Drax asked.

"Just, you know, listen. Feel the beat, loosen up a little." Quill gently punched Drax in the shoulder, which he immediately regretting doing as the green warrior glared at him.

Drax blinked, "'Feel the beat'...'Loosen up'…I am unfamiliar with these techniques."

Quill let the music take him and he started singing, "I can't stop this feeling… deep inside of me…" He looked at Drax who looked perplexed as ever. "When you hold me… common Drax… in your arms so tight…you let me know… everything's alright." As the chorus hit, Quill dramatically stood up from the seat and sung into a fist. "Say it with me Drax, I'm hooked on a feeling…"

"I'm hooked on a feeling…" the warrior said in a monotone voice.

"I'm high on believing…"

"I'm high on believing…"

"That you're in love with me!"

"That you're… but I'm not in love with you."

Quill chuckled. "It's just a song man. You're not singing to me. You're singing with me."

"Oh."

"Get it?"

"No."

It was an interesting moment to say the least, but it was safe to say that a wall, or at least a brick, that was in between Quill and his crew had broken away. He had a feeling that he would grow close to these people—maniacs, the ones on the broken end of life, and they'd become the closest thing to family he'd ever know.