So I have seen Guardians of the Galaxy twice now, and OH MY GOSH it is fantastic. Seriously, it is one of my favorite movies I have seen this year, which is really saying something. I was so completely blown away by not only the humor and the universe but I have completely fallen in love with the characters my gosh. Especially Peter and Gamora. Help me.

Anyways I'm not particularly proud of this, seeing as it's basically just a rambling that attempts to convey my affection for the friendship in this movie, but there's probably more to come. Along with my other fics. I promise, my writers block is gone now, I am going to write more.

Enjoy!

Stupid, is the last thought that manages to run through his mind before his hand closes around the stone. And then there are no thoughts, no words, as everything is replaced by pain, horrid, I-didn't-know-I-could-even-hurt-this-badly pain. Nothing but pain and that awful, awful purple color swirling in front of his eyes as Peter Quill is broken down and ripped apart and scattered into nothing, not even a speck caught in the storm that is the Infinity Stone, the raging, unbelievable power that he would have found intoxicating in any other circumstance. But he cannot find it intoxicating because he is no longer there, there is nothing but that awful purple color and the agonizing pain and oh god he's dying it hurts it hurts it HURTS-

"NO!" the strangled cry ripped its way out of Peter's throat as he shot up in bed, his sheets damp with sweat and his breaths escaping in harsh, uneven gasps. He glanced wildly around the room, blinking rapidly as the bright purple from his dreams faded to the semi-darkness of his room, lights from the consoles blinking cheerily.

A dream, he thought as his heart-rate slowly dropped. Just a stupid, run-of-the-mill nightmare and the legendary outlaw's crying like a kid, he thought wryly as he buried his face in his hands.

It was only expected, he supposed, that after the past completely-freaking-insane days he would wind up with his fair shares of nightmares. Star's only knows how many countless others he's had, but it was definitely the first time he's woken from one this rattled since…since…well since his abduction.

Which was neither here nor there, he thought firmly as he shoved off the sheets, swinging his legs over the bed. The problem now was that sleep was out of the question for him, and his usual method of coping with late night insomnia- Awesome Mix Volume I on replay for hours- was also out of the question, given the four other people now residing on his ship. That was going to take some getting used. As much as he liked the four- well he liked Groot, and Rocket was a snarky jackass but pretty cool, and Drax was…well, Drax, and Gamora was pretty great (he was not going there, he was not going there), the idea of having to explain to the four hardened, badass warrior-assassin-thug-people that he couldn't get to sleep because of something so simple as a nightmare was…humiliating. Completely humiliating. Bad enough being the only un-enhanced and possibly most destructible out of them.

So he took care to make his footsteps as quiet as possible as he clambered around the others scattered in various places on his ship, the only sound the light press of his bare feet and Drax's rumbling snores from where he lay sprawled on one of the makeshift beds Peter had hastily pulled together in order to accommodate his friends. Given the fact that he'd been traveling solo the majority of his life, it wasn't much, but he planned to remedy that at the next planet they stopped off at. In the mean time, piles of foam mattresses and comforters seemed to suffice. Drax looked plenty comfortable, and Rocket looked peaceful enough curled around Groot's pot, the small tree's eyes closed as he swayed gently in sleep.

Gamora was nowhere to be seen, but that was expected, he thought as he pulled himself up the ladder leading to the cockpit. Badass-assassin-warriors probably didn't like to sleep out in the open-

"Quill?"

"Gack!" Peter choked out as he nearly fell back down the ladder, reaching frantically for his gun before belatedly realizing all he had on was a t-shirt and sweatpants. He spun around, nearly crying with relief as he saw Gamora seated in one of the pilot's chairs, eyebrows raised in concern.

"Are you alright?"

"Yeah," he gasped out, throwing himself in one of the chairs by her. "Y'know, just having a mild heart attack."

Gamora smirked. "I was hardly sudden about it. Perhaps you should work on awareness of your surroundings."

"Yeah, yeah, let's all laugh at the poor inferior human and his un-enhanced reflexes," he said as he watched her carefully out of the corner of his eyes, hoping the casual reference to her surgical enhancements would be tempered by the humor. Apparently it was, he thought in relief, as she only rolled her eyes.

"Half-human, you mean."

"Oh. Yeah." He kept forgetting that. "Still means I'm human. Just with an extra half of some incredibly good-looking species."

"Or half of a species that lacks a brain."

"Ha ha. Hilarious." He muttered grumpily. Gamora gave a small laugh, turning her eyes back to the stars, the sliding lights casting her green skin in a yellowish glow.

"So why are you awake at this hour?" she inquired, eyes still on the stars. Peter winced, having hoped they were going to avoid this.

"Oh- nothin'. Just makin' sure you guys haven't blown up my ship yet." Gamora gave him a disbelieving look. "Anyways-why are you even up?"

"I could not sleep," she said smoothly, none of the trepid hesitation his voice carried in her tone. "The past day's event events have been…unsettling, at best." She then smiled lightly. "If not enjoyable."

"That's up for debate," he muttered.

"But I suppose the reason I cannot find sleep at this hour is the same reason you are trying to cover with your pathetic and unnecessary bravado," she finished, a hint of snark in her voice.

"Wha-bravado-pathetic-who, me?" he stammered.

Another eye-roll. "Yes, you. Stop trying to keep up that ridiculous image. You are among friends, are you not?"

That stopped him. Friends…yeah, the term had been dropped several times, but the idea of having such was still a foreign one to him. He wasn't even sure how to be a friend in the first place. He just knew how to double-cross people and royally tick them off.

But, he thought, remembering the panic in Gamora's voice as her hand reached for his, the feeling of the four of them joined together containing the Infinity Stone…it was a feeling of belonging, and it was something he rather liked.

"Yeah," he said softly, smiling a bit. "Friends."

Gamora smiled. "I find it odd, too. But it's…nice. Nice to belong."

"Even if it's to a group of insane, incredibly attractive but criminal psychos?"

"You forgot annoying and obnoxious flirts, but yes, our little band of psychos." She replied, punching his arm lightly, laughing at his half-hearted whining.

"But in honesty, what has you up?" she asked. Peter huffed.

"Nightmare. Just a stupid, pointless nightmare," he said, staring fixedly out the window.

"Ah," Gamora said. "About the stone?"

"Yes, actuall-wait, how'd you know?"

"It appears to be a popular thing to be dreaming about tonight," she sighed, turning back to the stars. "Amongst other things."

Peter stared at her. He'd forgotten that she too had felt the effects of the stone, had felt that mind-numbing pain. And that wasn't the only thing she had dealt with.

"Your sister?" he inquired hesitantly.

"Yes," she said, looking a bit surprised. "If I could even call her that," she continued sadly, staring at her clasped hands.

"Well," he started. He was a bit out of his depth with this one. The closest thing he'd had to family in the last twenty years was Yondu, and that in and of itself was a joke. He had about zero clue how to deal with estranged sisters that wanted to kill you.

He knew a thing or two about guilt, though.

"You know you did everything you could, right?"

"She's not dead." Gamora said stiffly. Peter raised an eyebrow at that one. When Gamora had disabled the security on Ronin's ship he'd simply assumed that Nebula had forced Gamora's hand into killing her. Apparently not.

"But I wonder if she would have been better off so," she continued, voice barely audible.

Yeah. Definitely out of his league here. He sat there for a minute, the only sound the constant beeping of the controls as the autopilot flew them past the stars, him glancing worriedly at her as she simply stared sadly at her clasped hands.

"She made her own choices, you know," he said finally. "In the end she was her own person. There wasn't anything you could've done to change her mind. But that's kinda the point, I guess," he said haltingly. "That it was her mind, y'know? She wasn't being manipulated by Thanos or Ronin or anyone else. She made her own stupid choices and now she's dealing with the stupid consequences."

Gamora continued staring at her hands, but he thought he saw the slightest easing of her brows.

"Much like you," he said, trying to once again lighten the conversation. "And your stupid decision that's now got you dealing with us as a consequence."

That did get a smile.

"I am sure there are worse fates, Peter Quill," she said, finally meeting his gaze.

"Just Peter," he said. "We're friends, right?"

"Fine. Peter." She said, rolling her eyes. "Which also means that you can come to us with your somewhat pleasant melodies anytime you have a nightmare. We are hardly going to judge you for so normal a reaction."

"Fine. But that means you have to come to us for hugs and cuddles whenever you break down sobbing about your sister."

"Oh, you are insufferable." She said, shaking her head as he turned on Awesome Mix volume II, the volume set low.

Peter leaned back in his chair as Ain't No Mountain High Enough played softly through the cockpit, watching the stars with Gamora as the two enjoyed the simple comfort another friendly presence brought for the first time in years.

Belonging was nice, he thought as his eyes drifted close, Gamora's steady breathing besides him. And he could definitely get used to this friends thing, at any rate.