Braids

Genre: Fluff (but due to my nature I've added some angst, just to be evil!)

Warnings: None

Rocket's mind wanders back to the past, where he remembers a friend he had to lose to gain a family, and does something kind, and rather unconventional, for Mantis

"OUCH!" Mantis' squeak echoed through the ship again. And again. And again. Rocket tried to ignore it, as he always did when his team were up to something stupid. He fiddled with the control panel, manning the ship while Quill and the rest of the team were supposed to be sleeping. Rocket usually piloted their spaceship at night (despite the fact that it always seemed to look like night in space). It had become a habit over the years. He was almost always unable to sleep soundly at night, back then at least. Cat-naps and dozes during the day kept him going. That feeling of guilt and loneliness never went away, until last month that was. Last month when he got his family back...

Now, he used this quiet time to ponder. He could have just turned on the autopilot and went to bed, but he just didn't feel the call of sleep. He had too much on his mind. Tonight, as he did last night and the nights before that, he would sit in the pilot seat until the early hours of the morning, gazing at the stars and meteors hurtling past in the distance. Quiet time. His time to ponder. To remember.

He allowed his mind to wander back, definitely not as far as...that place...but to Groot, and Yondu. To Stark, and Romanoff. To Gamora, wherever, whenever she was...

His time alone wasn't always productive. Sometimes, it was less of a blessing, and more of a curse.

"OUCH," she cried again, much more ear-piercing than the last few times. Rocket rolled his eyes. He didn't want to complain too much. After all, a few weeks ago, he would have done anything to have his friends' voices on his ship, even if it was Mantis' shrieks. He switched on the autopilot and slid off his seat.

Mantis' room was across from Quill's, but for some reason the humie wasn't responding whatsoever to the noise. Rocket presumed he'd probably had his headphones stuffed into his ears. Rocket wouldn't give him any crap tonight. He'd had a tough day...

He tip-toed his way over to the girl's room, and poked his head around her door.

"What the..."

"OUUUCCHH!" The girl's scream pierced through the ship yet again. A muffled 'shut up' and a kick from the wall next door was his fellow team mates' efforts at protest. Everyone was wrecked, emotionally and physically. Today was yet another failure in a series of 'Locate Gamora' missions. This time, Quill, Groot, Drax and Mantis chased a pointless lead on a small, dusty planet rich in armament weaponry, which would have been right up Rocket's ally had he and Nebula not been tasked with ship repairs. Yesterday, Quill had fallen asleep at the controls (though he denied it consistently) and bashed right into a space rock. Thor wasn't even on board. Two days ago, he wandered off to scope out some 'personal endeavour' in the team's new (sort-of stolen) pod, though he checked in every few hours.

Needless to say, the whole mission was a complete disaster. Quill and the gang arrived back on board the Benatar angry, filthy and bruised. Nebula scoffed. She knew as well as Rocket did that some leads were ridiculous. They had five years practice on that front. She wished to find her sister too, but for some reason or another, Gamora just didn't want to be found...yet.

Now, Mantis was tugging a hairbrush through her wet, tangled locks, her face screwed in sheer frustration. An assortment of small twigs and leaves lay scattered across her floor. The team had come home absolutely covered in dirt and grime, but Rocket guessed that the others didn't have to worry about 'hair trouble'. Well, at least it wasn't anything serious.

"What the hell are you doing?"

Mantis jumped, screeching in surprise as she did so. Another kick on the wall next door shut her up. Drax was in no humour for bullcrap tonight.

"Sorry!" she leaned down, bringing her voice to a whisper. "I didn't mean to be so loud."

"S'alright," he answered. "But, going back to my question, what the freaking hell are you doing?" She pulled another leaf from behind her hear and chucked it on the ground, grumbling in response. "You should have taken all that crap out of your hair before you washed it, you know. Wet fur ain't nobody's friend."

Mantis pulled at her scalp one last time, biting back a cry as the comb stuck in place and ripped out several strands of hair. She chucked it across the room in frustration, folding her arms across her chest and pouting like a child. Rocket held back a laugh. She looked ridiculous, with twigs sticking out of random intervals on her head. He missed this. He missed the stupidity on board his ship. He missed his team of misfits and jackasses. He missed his family.

"Look, it ain't that bad. Pipe down and I'll see what I can do." He scooped up the shabby hairbrush and hopped on to her bed while she crouched down, her back facing him. He pulled in his claws, not wanting to scratch her, and got to work.

"You're overdramatic as hell," he commented, pulling out the last of the vegetation. She winced every time he tugged on a knot or pulled at a leaf. She just couldn't sit still for two consecutive minutes. He chucked the comb away, as most of the teeth had snapped... OK, maybe she wasn't being overdramatic...he had probably given her whiplash...

She toyed around with the leaves on the ground, poking the sticks through each one, creating some sort of hideous elf jewellery. He rolled his eyes yet again, running his fingers through her now tangle-free hair. He was pretty sure he'd removed all of the forest crap. His mind wandered, like it always did at night time. He closed his eyes.

He wasn't all that close to her. He had written her the occasional email every month or so, giving updates about space, and space, and more space. But it was because of her that he had what he had now. Tony Stark made the ultimate sacrifice to save the universe, and Rocket would be forever grateful, but so did she. Natasha Romanoff, his friend Nat, had saved them all too. Behind his closed eyes, her face stared back at him, full of honour and selflessness and pride. He may not have been close to her, but he missed her none the less. He missed both of them.

He opened his eyes. Subconsciously, his fingers had intertwined his team mate's hair into a familiar style...a scrappy little braid. He allowed himself a smile. She died for them, but they could live for her memory. He could live for her honour.

He fished a piece of wire out of his pocket, and fashioned it around the end of his work, keeping the braid in place. In some small ways, Nat would never be forgotten.

"There you go," he hopped off of the bed, watching as his team mate's slender fingers explored her new look. "Tell anyone about this, and I'll cut it off." Her face lit up, despite his threatening joke, and for Rocket, that was enough.