Gamora had never been good at being left alone with her thoughts. In the aftermath of Ego, she found herself thinking a lot more about things she'd rather ignore- things she didn't understand, things she regret, things that hurt.

And, when she was trapped in her head, alone in the darkness of her room with nothing but her thoughts and the things she couldn't run away from, she always found herself circling back to one central theme. Like a mixtape. All these overarching aspects and ideas that kept popping up in her life, interwoven into her memories, conversations, interactions, slight variations that all led back to the same… well, she didn't know exactly what it was.

All she knew was that she couldn't stop thinking about what's been said and what's been left unsaid.

And it all came back down to her thinking, thinking, thinking.

Gamora thought about what Mantis had said. Thought about what Quill had said. Thought about what she hadn't said.

Stuck on repeat.

Again and again.

Thinking, thinking, thinking.

She thought about what Peter has said. What he's said to her, about her- asking her to dance, that he liked her, wondering when they were going to do something about the unspoken thing between them.

She thought about what Mantis has said for them- when the empath touched them and spoke feelings for both Peter and Gamora.

First was Peter, on the ship.

You feel romantic, sexual love. For her.

Then, Gamora.

After she and Nebula found the bodies, raced back to the palace, when Gamora slammed her up against the wall and held her by the throat as she demanded to know where Peter was.

You are afraid.

Gamora thought about how she recoiled once those three words exited the empath's mouth, like she had just spat acid instead of those one, two, three soft words as her airway was closing off. She thought about how fast she pulled her hand away, shouting accusations about what Mantis had done to her. She thought about how her hands shook in her own grasp.

She couldn't stop thinking about these things in the wake of everything that's happened.

Gamora thought about what's been said and what's been unsaid.

Thinking, thinking, thinking.

On repeat.

Again and again.

End of side A, please turn over.

She thought of the things Peter has said. She thought of the things Mantis said when she had spoken for the two of them.

She thought of all the things she's never said. Everything she's left unsaid.

All of the things she still has yet to say.

They were all still struggling to adjust. Gamora made a point of never being left alone in the same room as Mantis, often heading somewhere else on the ship, or more likely to her room. Because every time Gamora saw her face, she couldn't help but think about the time Mantis used her empath abilities on her.

You are afraid.

Gamora thought about how scared she was, seeing all the bodies, the skeletons, the death- knowing she left Peter back here in the palace where something was so wrong.

He was consumed in the happy fantasy of the place, wanting so badly to believe this unreal world. Peter fell for the happy deception, and she left him here all alone, in this place of death and decay with the pretty picture he believed. When he was still convinced in the goodness of the place, he was alone, without her, standing on the surface of a land filled with corpses.

You are afraid.

No, that wasn't quite right.

In that moment, her hand around Mantis's neck, gripping tightly, shouting about the skeletons at the core and demanding to know where Peter was… She was terrified. Not just afraid. She was terrified. So scared and frightened. So very, very afraid. She was afraid.

She was afraid.

She thought about this more and more, along with the rest, everything that had happened. She thought of everything that Peter had been through. She thought about the argument they had-him shouting about cheering and how one of them was willing to open up and be vulnerable, and the other was a jerk who wouldn't trust anybody. She thought about how right he was.

She thought about the unspoken (now marginally spoken) thing between them. She thought about the feelings that have been spoken. She thought about all the things she's left unsaid. All the things she needs to tell him.

It was weeks after… that, when she finally approached him with it.

He had the lights turned out, sitting in the dark, staring out the window at the sea of stars. For a moment, though, she just watched him. He hadn't noticed her presence yet, and he was so still- something so unusual for him. He had been a lot more still, a lot more quiet lately. She didn't blame him.

She sat next to him when she finally worked up the nerve to do something other than just watch him in silence, taking his hand without asking, sure he wouldn't mind.

Peter's eyes jerked up to hers as he sat up straighter, out of his reclined state, and his brows creased in concern at the look on her face. Probably the whole air about her, really. It just felt heavy- this insurmountable pressure on her chest as she prepared herself to actually say all these things out loud- and she was certain he could see it in her eyes. He was always disconcertingly good at reading her.

Just like she could read the worry in his eyes.

"Peter, I- I do trust you," she told him quietly, sincerely, gazing down at his hand like it was the most transfixing thing in existence.

He blinked in confusion. "What? What're you talking about? Where's this coming from?"

Gamora pursed her lips for a second, trying to find the best way to put it. "Back before, on Ego," she felt Peter tense at the mention of that name, the name that everyone had been avoiding in conversations since. She didn't look up, just kept reassuringly stroking the back of his hand. "When we were dancing, and we were talking about the unspoken thing, between us, and you said- I want you to know, I do trust you, Peter. With my life. More than anything or anyone. I trust you."

Peter blew out a low whistle of a breath, recalling the particulars of that argument. It was one of the worst ones they'd ever had. They hadn't fought like that since they met. Yeah, they had stupid arguments all the time, over things like the volume of his music, which jobs to take, battle strategies, but those were just stupid arguments. He couldn't remember the last time they had a full blown fight. The last time they had a fight as bad as that one. They hadn't fought like that in a long while.

"Gamora, I- I didn't mean that. I was upset and just being a bitch, and something was off, and you were right, and I didn't want to accept- I didn't mean it when I said that. I was just being a bitch, so you don't need- I know you trust me. I was just upset and being a jerk off and taking it all out on you. M'sorry. And it's pretty clear how wrong I was," he chuckled in a way that was supposed to come off as light and self deprecating, but just sounded forced.

"No, Peter, but you were right-"

"He was a murderous planet who wanted to take over the universe. I don't know how I could've been more wrong."

"No, just-just stop speaking, will you?" She said, squeezing his hand, sounding frustrated. "Just, I need you to be quiet for a moment, okay?" Gamora took a steadying inhale. Trying to steel herself, maybe. It seemed like all her preparation and thinking beforehand was for naught, because her throat was already tight and her pulse quickening like getting ready for a fight. But she didn't feel strong right now. This wasn't getting pumped up preparing for battle. No, the tightness in her chest and the blood pumping in her ears made Gamora feel very, very small. "I need you to not interrupt, Peter, please. I… I need to say some things right now. I need to tell you-tell you some things, out loud. So please, be quiet." Her last words came out just above a whisper, begging him. "The- the unspoken thing. I need to- I need you to let me speak right now. Please, let me speak."

Peter gulped, loudly, before nodding his head. She still wouldn't meet his eyes, but she resumed her soft strokes on the back of his hand.

"I do trust you. And- you were right. About this thing between us. You were right when you said all of that about one of us being willing to… and the other not. You were right. Sometimes, I think- I've always defined myself by what I've lost. You remember where I was, back when we first met. The place I was at when I met your stupid face for the first time back on Xandar," she smiled, soft and slight at the memory of him tossing that orb around like a plaything before they had any idea what was inside it. "It's strange to think that it really wasn't that long ago. It feels like so much has happened since then. Since we were back there. Since I was back there. It really hasn't been that long at all. Since you were where you were and I was where I was."

Gamora shook her head, she felt like she was repeating herself. But her thoughts were just as jumbled as her words. She knew she needed to get out what she was going to say, but she didn't even know what she was going to say next. She didn't know where she was going with this. She had no clue where this was headed. She swallowed, biting her lip, finding something within herself to keep going.

"Who I was, who I am- I feel like I've always defined myself by what I've lost. And I think maybe that… I think that might still be true," Gamora sucked in a loud breath, trying to keep her voice steady. It didn't really work. "I think that might still be true of me, today. But meeting you, being with you, knowing you, Peter- I, you've, I just, I want to… You make me want to change that, Peter. Give me reason to change. Stop defining myself by what I've lost and the things I've done. Because I met you. Knowing you. You make me want to stop defining myself by the people I've lost, Peter Quill." She hesitated after that, wondering if she could keep going. Already she was past the point of sharing far more than she'd ever intended to share for years. And she wasn't certain she could hold it all together if she kept speaking. Her voice had already turned traitor, shaky and hoarse, and it felt like with every passing word her eyes stung more and more. The last thing she wanted to do was start crying like a fool.

But then she reminded herself that this was Peter. The stupidest, most kind hearted person she'd ever met. Peter who made a fool out of himself on a daily occasion for the sole purpose of making her smile. Peter who she came so very close to losing. Her Peter. Peter with the infectious smile and addictive laugh- that almost disappeared forever. The biggest idiot in the galaxy who would constantly make a fool out of himself on the off chance it would make her smile.

She decided that if it were alright to look foolish with anyone, it would be him.

"But I… I think I still do, Peter. I think I still do define myself by everything I've lost, and what I just haven't lost yet. Define myself as things I've lost and things I've yet to lose. But you- I don't want to define myself as what I've yet to lose, Peter. I don't want to define myself as someone who's yet to lose you. I think I still do though, that I haven't changed. I think I'm still someone who just hasn't lost you yet. And back on Ego, after we saw the… the bodies, and I- I didn't know where you were… I couldn't find you, and I…"

Gamora's throat was tight, her voice thick and wet, every breath she took was shallow and shaky.

"I was so afraid. I thought I'd finally lost you," she said, voice quivering. Her shoulders were curled in on herself, and she sharply sucked in air when her voice broke, dropping his hand to press her forehead into her own in an automatic attempt to cover her eyes and hide her face when she was about to cry and desperately trying to hold it all together.

She couldn't do anything other than bury her face in her hands, trying to stay in one piece. Desperately trying not to break down.

And that's when Peter wrapped his arms around her. He pulled her into a hug so hard and tight it knocked the wind out of her. And it knocked the first sob out of her too.

After that… she just gave up.

She just gave up, crying into his chest, clutching his shoulder, and holding him so tight. Holding on like if she let go she'd never see him again.

He kept one arm around her, moving his other up to run his fingers through her hair. Gamora was holding him so tight it almost hurt, but he didn't mind. He never wanted her to stop. He never wanted her to let go of him ever again.

When Peter had buried his face in the crook of her neck, when she felt the tears streaming down his face, the fresh drops landing on her collarbone, heard his shattered breathing as he held her so tight, she felt a bit less foolish.

When they're here, together, crying with each other as they held on tight, she actually felt alright. For the first time in awhile.

When they're both crying, holding each other, not saying a single word, just crying and holding each other in silence- she finally felt alright. She finally felt okay.

Holding Peter in that moment- she finally felt okay again.

Long after they'd both stopped crying, after their breath had returned to normal, steady and stable, they kept holding each other.

Peter's eyes were still closed, face buried in the crook of her neck, and Gamora in turn nuzzled into him.

"I need you, Peter," she whispered, placing a soft kiss on his neck. His arms tightened around her, but other than that, no reaction. "Please," she murmured, another kiss pressed higher up on his throat, and his breath hitched. Her hand moved up to gently cup his cheek, and she trailed her lips along his jaw, soft kisses, featherlight.

"Be mine," she told him.

Then, finally, she kissed him. On the lips.

His were soft and warm as the met hers, moved with hers- almost hesitant, at first. Almost scared. Gamora ran her fingers through his hair and felt him ease at the gesture, that small bit of reassurance, and he just melted into her.

It was a damn good kiss. Slow and gentle to begin with, like a hushed whisper of things that had been building and building and kept hidden for far too long. They'd waited so long for this. It's a slow, soft, and almost careful kiss.

At first.

It started out all sweet and chaste. Then.. then it got a little heated.

Gamora licked his bottom lip, making his breath hitch, and she took the opportunity to slide her tongue through his parted lips and deepen the kiss. He tasted so good.

He pulled her closer, pulled her into him, his arms around her tightening and really pressing her into him as their kiss became more heated, more wild. More desperate.

Peter opened his mouth wider for her, wanting her to have all of him, their tongues hot and twisting, tying together, wanting to taste all of each other.

They gave way to heated scrambling, hands all over each other, trying to tug off layers, kissing down throats, pulling each other down onto the nearest bed in a desperate frenzy. A need to feel each other.

By the time they were in his bed she'd already gotten his jacket off, in his white t shirt, and her outer layer was gone too, left with the tank top she wore under everything. With the new access he was granted to her skin he made lovely work of nipping and sucking on her collar bone as she straddled his lap, pressing into him.

His hands were moving to the zipper for her leather when she halted him.

"Peter, Peter, stop," Gamora whispered and pulled away, even though it was one of the hardest things she'd had to do.

His hair was all mussed up, lips plump and red, hanging open, his pupils blown, a pink flush smudged over his cheeks, and somehow looked more innocent and vulnerable that she'd ever seen him. There was such an innocent look of confusion on his thoroughly debauched face when she pulled back.

"I don't want us- not like this. I don't want us to happen like this," she told him, and he looked like he'd been sucker punched in the gut. He went from the innocent confusion when she pulled away to looking like he just got punched when he heard her words, and she realized how he took them, and she really needed him to know that was not what she meant.

"God, Peter, not like that," Gamora said, lifting her hand to cup his cheek, and he flinched at the contact. She tried to ignore how it made her chest tighten and hurt. She held his cheek, slowly leaning in, and kissed him again. It took some plying, but eventually his lips start to cautiously respond to her coaxing.

When they parted again, she kept her hand on his cheek, only pulling far enough away to look him in his wide and innocent eyes.

"That's not what I meant. I didn't mean it like that. What you thought I meant," she reassured him, caressing his cheek. He relaxed, just a bit though. He only relaxed slightly- still looking cautious and vulnerable and worried he wasn't enough. When he was. He was enough. He was always enough.

"I meant- I want our first time to be… I don't want our first time to happen like this, Quill. I really want this, and you, right now, but can we- can we wait?" Her voice strayed higher at the end of her question. She knew she sounded like an idiot faltering and stumbling through her words, but she wasn't very good at this kind of stuff. "I don't want us to happen like this. I want our first to be- I don't want us to be worried, and upset, and tense, and about something else like right now. I don't want us to happen like this. I want our first time- I want us to be happy and not thinking about something else like now, not worried and of something other than us. Can we just wait for another night? And just be us, together, tonight?"

"Yeah, yeah," Peter started nodding kinda dumbly. "Yeah, so, so-" and before he could stutter out anymore words Gamora flopped down on his bed bedside him, lying on her back, and in the span of two seconds she had her arm hooked around his shoulder and yanked him down over to her, pulling his head to rest against her chest as she cradled him, staring up at the ceiling and brushing his hair.

He was incredibly surprised, and totally caught off guard, but made no effort to move away.

And okay, it was a little weird that Gamora had her arm wrapped around his shoulder protectively, holding him close, as she cradled his head to her chest, but it was a nice weird. A good weird.

He was surprised stiff at first, when Gamora suddenly pulled him down so he was practically on top of her. It seemed like he was hesitant to even move. To shift, reposition his body weight, to settle in and get comfortable. Like he was afraid to break the spell of the moment, or that this was a thin and delicate scene like one millimeter thick glass that would shatter with a shaky touch. He held himself still like this was a paper thin glass moment that would shatter into a million pieces if he made the slightest movement.

His whole body was tense, awkwardly supporting himself in the exact position he landed in, because he's afraid to move a muscle, can't let his legs relax, shift onto his hip, can't move his shoulder to a less weird angle, can't relax and settle into her, his posture frozen and tight. He couldn't let himself relax lest he break the whole picture.

"Peter, please," Gamora murmured, lightly rubbing his arm, his muscles twisted and tense. "Please lay with me."

"Uh, yeah," he coughed awkwardly, not even realizing he was being weird until brought back to the reality of the situation- of what was happening and what he wasn't doing and what she wanted him to be doing- didn't even notice until she brought it to his attention just now.

"Y-yeah, sorry, that's, uh, I, uh, yeah, yes, I- I can do that, yeah," Peter stumbled through his words. He then painstakingly made an effort to relax his body, piece by piece, to release the tension like it was actually painful. This forced ease rolling through his body from head to toe like it hurt.

When he stopped trying to support his own body weight and let himself fall back and be supported by the bed (like a normal person laying down) he still didn't shift, rearrange his body, reposition anything to get more comfortable. His full weight was now pressing into the bed (minus his head and his shoulder-ish area since Gamora was clutching him to rest on her upper torso), but he still wasn't…. settled.

She wanted his body to feel easy next to hers. But he still didn't feel easy. He wasn't at ease. Not totally. Not yet.

"Quill, come on. You're the one who touches and hugs and wants to dance all the damn time. It's like you're actively trying to not cuddle with me right now. I thought you would enjoy this- as your touching-feelers type. If you don't want to, you don't have to do touching-feelers with me right now."

Gamora started to subconsciously shift away from him, started to release her hold on him, or at least soften how hard she was holding him, but his arms preemptively tightened around her to keep her from pulling away. He didn't technically have his arms wrapped around her like she did him, but he almost clings to her, tightly, the moment she started shifting away. Clutching her tighter to keep her with him, make her stay, stop her from moving away.

"No, I really wanna do that. Really wanna do this right now. It's just kinda weird, you know? Scratch that, really weird. It's just kinda weird right now, this is really weird and I'm just getting used to it. And it's weird and really nice, and like-adjusting or whatever. Just cause I may or may not be a touchy-feely type of person doesn't mean this isn't weird and nice too. Cause it is. And good. It's good too."

"You are," she said like she was correcting him. "You are the touchy-feely type of person. You have the greatest touching-feelers out of anyone I've ever met. Like they need to touch someone else to sustain your drive for physical contact or you would die. I cannot fathom why else your hand would automatically extend to something like a lasgodian that you had not known for more than two minutes," she shuddered at the memory.

"Hey!" He whined. "That was a really sad story! Buddy really needed cheering up! Patting him- her- it on one of its tentacle backs was the only thing anyone could do after hearing that sad story! Comforting that drunk lasgodian in the dive bar was the only thing a not heartless person could do after hearing something so sad!"

Gamora chuckled. "That it my point, Peter. That reflex of yours to reach out no matter who or what it is. It's a rare thing. Most do not share your instinct. Your automatic instinct to reach out to comfort another creature."

Peter pouted looking up at her (without even noticing how he was completely at ease now, comfortable and relaxed with a twinkling spark in his eyes- she noticed though). His exaggerated pout was so big she had to laugh when she looked down at him.

"I never said it was a bad thing," she pointed out. This didn't soften his pout at all though.

"Then why do you sound like you're insulting me?" Peter narrowed his eyes in suspicion.

"I'm not," Gamora shook her head with a smile, but he didn't look convinced. "I'm not, promise. I- I like how you do that, I like that you are that way," she told him, her hand moving to grab his, pull them up, interweave their fingers together. "How that is natural for you. To reach out. I like that you reach out and touch me too."

His face softened as she spoke, looking at her like she was saying the most important thing in the galaxy right now, and he didn't want to miss a word that was falling from her lips. Looking up at her like she was important too. So important.

"You sure you don't wanna have sex tonight? Cause I'm feeling pretty happy right now," Peter shot her one of those smirks that was supposed to be charming on his part (though she'd never admit it aloud, they actually kind of were).

"You're absurd," she told him honestly, smiling back. And, because she could, she kissed him. A quick peck really. He looked startled at first, completely taken aback. (probably because he didn't expect her to kiss him after making a snarky suggestive comment)

But then that surprise faded into a silly little smile, an almost self conscious thing, and a light pink colored his cheeks. And for once, he wasn't hiding behind false bravado, or a cocky attitude.

Instead she got that silly self conscious smile, because he wasn't trying to hide how much he liked that simple peck on the lips from her. And it might've been the truest smile Gamora had ever seen, on him or anyone.

When she started stroking his hair, Peter closed his eyes, and every residual bit of tension in him disappeared.

"Go to sleep," she murmured, scooting closer and resting her forehead against his. "We'll be here for you in the morning. Promise. We're here, Peter. We're here."