I've said it before and I'll say it again I hate my mind. The bunnies have done a hostile take over of my brain and produced about a dozen GotG one-shots, so this is an attempt to purge them with fire and get them out. I know I should be working on my transformers fics but I just can't help myself. Read and Enjoy!

Disclaimers: I no own, so you no sue!

'Why can I not go one damn week without some crazy bastard trying to kill me?' Peter Quill, Star-Lord and unofficial leader of the Guardians of the Galaxy, thought angrily to himself as he ducked to avoid the blaster fire that was aimed at his head.

The answer to that question was usually complex of course because Peter had been attacked for many different reasons over his life traveling through space. He had made a lot of enemies as a thief, and some of those people really didn't like having their stuff taken. Other times it was his red Ravager coat just catching the wrong kind of attention. More commonly it was his cocky attitude and big mouth that got him neck deep in trouble. This time however it was none of those things, much to Peter's surprise and quickly growing annoyance.

He was quickly snapped out of his musings as blaster fire once more peppered his hiding place behind what had once been the side of a market stall. The wood was no match for the assault and Peter was forced to bolt for cover as the wood collapsed. He returned fire, forcing his opponents to dodge and giving him just enough time to dive behind an overturned metal cart. It didn't take him long to realize that his newest refuge was already occupied when a familiar and angry voice yelled at him.

"What the hell did you do this time Quill?!" Rocket shouted over the sound of blaster fire, his own large gun smoking slightly at the barrel.

"Nothing!" Peter shouted back, only to receive a disbelieving look from his ring-tailed comrade. "No, seriously! I didn't do anything this time! Besides it's your fault we even came here in the first place!" The Terran said indignantly as he leaned around the corner of their hiding place to get a few shots off at their attackers.

And he was telling the truth. Earlier that day they had decided to make a quick stop on Kalor, a well-populated desert planet, that Rocket swore had the best black market this side of the quadrant. So they had all left the Milano to shop and stretch their legs. Groot (who was still too small to leave his pot) stayed with the spacecraft happily listening to Awesome Mix #2, Drax had gone to drink, fight and eventually get banned from the nearest bar, while Gamora, Peter and Rocket went to buy supplies and parts. To Peter's surprise the racoon hadn't been kidding, this black market really was a place where you could find anything for the right price.

Kalor was just beyond the borders of Nova Core jurisdiction, so people openly sold their illegal wares in wooden stalls under the blazing suns with no fear of the law. After all in this kind of place where no law, except the kind you made yourself, existed. Unfortunately this meant that there were plenty of people who lived outside the law on Kalor, including Ronan supporters. At first Peter didn't realize that he had been recognised, until he noticed people were whispering 'Star-Lord' and discreetly pointing at him as he walked by. At first he preened in the attention, he had after all been trying for years to get his moniker to be better known around the Galaxy, but then he noticed the glares from a mixed group of aliens standing at the corner of the street.

One particular glare stood out from a Repzoid, a large reptile-like humanoid that made Drax look short, who's yellow eyes followed Peter like a piece of meat. Peter pretended not to notice the hostile stares of the clique and hurried to catch up with Rocket, who was arguing prices with a merchant about a dozen yards away. He never made it that far, as a larger presence suddenly loomed behind him and a large, scaly, three fingered hand clamped down on his shoulder. Peter was forcibly turned around, nearly losing his balance in the process, and had to look almost straight up to look the angry Repzoid in the eyes.

"Are you the one they call Star-Lord?" The reptile man snarled, giving Peter a good look at his fangs which quite honestly he thought badly needed to be brushed.

"Star-Lord?" Peter asked trying his best to sound honestly puzzled as the rest of the Repzoid's friends started approaching as well. "Isn't he that guy who helped kill Ronan, save the Galaxy, and somehow hold an Infinity Stone? Said to be roguishly handsome and have really awesome dance skills?" Peter couldn't help the cocky grin that found its way onto his face.

"Yesss," The Repzoid hissed, his eyes narrowing to glare down at Peter.

Peter just shrugged and gave the reptile his best innocent look, "Nope, sorry man you got the wrong Terran. Now if you'll excuse me." It wasn't his smartest move, turning his back to the Repzoid, but since he didn't have his coat it allowed for him to more discreetly reach for his blaster.

In that moment several things happened simultaneously; Peter's hand closed around the handle of his blaster, he could see from where he was standing Rocket turn to look at him and could see the racoon's expression shift and reach for the gun on his back, and more worryingly he heard the Repzoid swiftly move and the soft click of a gun's safety being turned off right behind his head.

"This is for Ronan, die Terran scum!" The reptile man shouted.

Peter only had time to think 'oh shit' and make a nose dive for the ground, the shot from the Repzoid's blaster singeing the hairs on the back of his neck as it passed and the world dissolved into chaos.

Which was how he wound up pinned by blaster fire behind a metal cart with Rocket cursing colorfully beside him. Peter blamed the racoon of course, because he shouldn't have recommended this market in the first place obviously. The human dared to peek around the edges of the cart, only to have to duck back down quickly to avoid having his head shot off. The crowds had already run for the hills, leaving only their attackers scattered in various positions but it was obvious they were only following the lizard-like man's lead. The Repzoid was still standing almost right in the middle of the street, dodging gun fire with inhuman speed for such a large being, with the remains of several stalls of goods lying around his large clawed feet.

"Where the hell is Gamora when you need her?!" Rocket shouted angrily as he turned his gun on their attackers once more.

Gamora had stopped about half a street behind them to inspect a stall of Jadis jewellery, and Peter knew that she had likely already heard the commotion, was on her way, and knew that they were the cause of it. Heck, they were being loud enough that it was likely Drax was on his way as well, after all the big blue brute was attracted to a good fight like a fly to honey. An idea came to Peter's mind as he quickly inspected where the Repzoid was still shooting at them from among the ruins of several stalls.

Peter turned to Rocket as the racoon paused to reload, "I think I have a plan."

Rocket eyed him cautiously before asking, "What percentage of a plan?" Man, they were never going to let him live that down were they?

Peter wiggled his hand side to side, "About twenty-five point eight percent, give or take?"

Rocket hesitated for a moment, but the return of heavy fire hitting their meager cover seemed to make up his mind for him. The racoon swore, cocked his gun and returned fire before turning back to Peter and snarling, "Fine! But this better work understand?" Obviously displeased if the way his fuzzy ears (and they were fuzzy even if saying so would get you shot) were pinned back flat against his skull.

Peter nodded, readied his gun and braced himself, "Give me some heavy cover fire, but leave the Repzoid to me." And before Rocket could protest or Peter could change his mind he threw himself out from behind the cart and into the fray.

Despite his surprise at Peter's unexpected move Rocket did a really good job keeping the Repziod's friends busy by peppering them with gun fire. The lizard man in question however, focussed immediately on Peter and fired at the Terran wildly, which the human was fortunately just able to avoid. Ducking from cover to cover Peter quickly covered ground and with a final burst of speed and several blasts from his gun charged the Repzoid. This of course was a surprise to the much larger reptile-like humanoid, because any sane being would usually want to keep a physically stronger opponent at a distance.

Let it never be said that Peter Quill is a sane being.

This momentary surprise however was exactly what Peter was counting on, because that split second of hesitation allowed him enough time to get off several close shots at the Repzoid, which were too close for the alien to dodge. The lizard man was still able to avoid most of the blasts but one caught the edge of a clawed hand and sent his blaster flying. Snarling as his gun went flying and instead of trying to reach for it, the reptile alien instead lashed out at Peter with his claws. The Terran ducked under the swing and by using his momentum rolled through the legs of his oversized opponent.

Peter fumbled for a moment, finding his balance just as his hand closed around the metal of a particular item from one of the blown apart stalls. However that moment was just enough time for the tables to turn and the Repzoid to wrap his scaly arms around Peter in a crushing parody of a hug. Gasping for air Peter was lifted off his feet as he accidently dropped his blaster and felt the Repzoid's claws dig deep into his arms, which were pinned to his sides with his back pressed against the lizard's chest. Peter still had the item he needed to end this clenched in his fist but now had no way to get it closer to the enemy and still get away.

Despite the fact he was being deprived of air the human had a surprisingly good view of the battle ground from where he was. He could see Gamora (when had she shown up?) and Rocket raining hell down on the few remaining attackers. He even had a front row seat to Drax's dramatic entrance, by beheading a guy with yellow skin who was trying to stab Gamora while she was distracted. However Peter was reminded that he wasn't there to see the view by the burning in lungs and the Repzoid hissing in his ear.

"Today must be my lucky day, I've heard Terran is quite the delicacy." The lizard man snarled and bared his fangs next to Peter's face.

With a jolt Peter realized that the bastard was going to kill him by literally biting his head off. He was so sick of the 'I'm-going-to-eat-you' threat that instead of scaring him the words only further pissed him off. Peter scowled and with what little air he had left gasped, "E-eat this a-asshole."

With a jerk of his legs Peter managed to kick the lizard in the balls, which had the Repzoid reflexively loosening his arms, freeing Peter, and opening his fanged mouth to gasp in surprise. Simultaneously Peter shoved his hand, the one that had earlier picked up a small class grenade from one of the smashed boxes on the ground, into the fanged mouth by his head and pulled the pin as he dropped to the ground and quickly rolled away.

The Repzoid didn't even have time to blink in surprise before the explosive went off with a bang and spattered Peter in its blood and brain matter. The Repzoid's body dropped lifelessly to the hot sand and the rest of the attackers, seeing that their leader was dead, swiftly fled. With a groan Peter picked himself up off the ground, sore and bleeding slightly, but more or less ok. The same of which could not be said for his shirt which was now covered in thick green-black blood or the wrecked market street around him.

The human gazed for a moment in surprise at the sheer destruction around him before shooting his comrades a wary grin. It was easy to hear Rocket swearing up a storm about dumb Terran's stupid plans. But Peter's attention was on Gamora, as she glared as she marched across the battlefield, quite likely planning on giving him the longest tongue-lashing of his life. However, Peter noticed something was wrong, because he was sure that his shirt was not supposed to be smoking. It took a second before Peter realized what was happening and scrambled to rip his shirt off without having to touch it too much. He had forgotten that Repzoid blood was extremely acidic and now his shirt was covered in it.

Thankfully he was quick enough so that nothing had burned through to his skin and he tossed the now useless scrap of cloth on the dusty ground without a second thought. With a sigh Peter mourned the loss of one of his few good shirts and looked back up to prepare himself for the verbal thrashing he was due for, but to his surprise it never came. Gamora's expression, which had only seconds before been one of anger and frustration, had melted into one of surprise and borderline shock. Confused, Peter looked over Gamora's shoulder toward Rocket and Drax, but they had similar expressions as they simply stared at Peter.

"What?" Peter asked defensively, not understanding why they were looking at him so strangely. Had they expected him to wear the now acidic shirt? "I know I'm hot with all these rippling muscles guys but really you don't have to stare." He said trying and failing to use humor to get them to snap out of it.

Gamora seemed to recover first, but she still stared as she spoke. "Peter, it's not that- How did- Where did you get those?" She asked using her eyes to gesture toward his torso.

Peter looked down at his chest and suddenly it clicked as to why they were looking at him so strangely and he was suddenly very self-conscious. It wasn't him they were looking at, it was his scars.

True fact: Terrans apparently have very delicate skin compared to most other alien species. It was a fact that Peter could attest to, though he'd never admit to having a delicate anything. However the truth was hard to ignore because Peter had seen other species walk away from situations without so much as a bruise that would have had him a bleeding mess many times. Heck even now Drax had just walked into a fire fight without a shirt and was absolutely fine, while Peter was all but scratched to pieces. So yes, Peter had more than a few marks on his sorry hide from a dangerous life of thieving and adventuring and none of them were very pretty.

Peter shifted uncomfortably under his friend's scrutiny; the urge to try and hide his scars was just as pointless as it was useless. They could already see them and he had nothing to cover them with, so naturally Peter tried to blow off their concern like it was nothing to salvage his pride.

"What? These?" Peter asked faking nonchalance as he gestured to the various pale and puckered reminders of old wounds. "Nothing much, just a few souvenirs."

His attempt to both lighten the mood and subtly get them to drop the subject didn't work.

"Souvenirs? Souvenirs?! Are you fucking kidding me Quill? You look like you've been though a damn war zone! What the shit happened to you?" Rocket snarled strangely agitated over what to Peter was something very small.

The Terran scowled as he became defensive, "It doesn't matter ok? They're just scars, now can we get out of here and go back to the ship before somebody comes and tries to make us pay for all this shit?"

Peter then turned his back to them and kneeled to grab his blaster but froze when he heard them gasp at the sight of his back and shoulders.

'Crap, I forgot about the ones on my back.' Peter mentally cursed and wished he had a really strong drink right about then.

Straightening with gun in hand Peter swiftly started walking back toward the ship, though he could hear his friends walking behind him and feel their gazes all but boring into his back. The short walk back was silent, but full of tension, and Peter was relieved when he entered his ship. Immediately he directed himself toward his room, fully planning on grabbing a shirt and maybe hiding in there for a few days or until everyone forgot to ask about his scars. But that plan of actions was abruptly cut off when Gamora grabbed his shoulder in a gentle grip that was firm enough to let him know that he wasn't going anywhere.

"Peter we need to t-" But Peter cut her off before she could finish.

"There's nothing to talk about really. That Repzoid just recognised that I was Star-Lord and wanted to even the score for killing Ronan." Peter said monotonously as he refrained from turning around, he really didn't want to see the look in their eye.

"Peter you know that's not what I mean," Gamora said sternly before sighing when Peter neither looked at her nor replied.

"Come on, we need to treat those injuries before they get infected," The green skinned female muttered and lightly tugged Peter toward the common area of the ship. An action which jolted Peter from his thoughts and reminded him of the sluggishly bleeding cuts on his upper arms from the Repzoid's claws.

Peter was pushed down into a chair and told not to move as his team mates went into a small flurry of action. Within moments Drax was flying the Milano back into orbit, Rocket had retrieved Groot from their shared bunk and filled the small plant humanoid in on what had happened, and Gamora was treating the claw marks on Peter's arms with surprising gentleness. All this happened without Peter meeting the eyes of his comrades or even trying to speak, which of course was highly unusual for the loudmouthed Terran.

Once they were on a course away from Kalor the other three males of the group seemed to hang back slightly. They stayed at the doorway, not looking at Peter or even at one another, but the human knew with certainty they were listening, and the cautious hovering just served to set him slightly on edge because damn it there was nothing to talk about. Ignoring the tension in the air Gamora simply continued her ministrations on his wounds.

Slowly, as if approaching a dangerous animal Gamora's hands finished with his cuts and cautiously brushed a ragged cut that ran along his bicep. In a low voice that Peter, who was sitting right in front of her, barely heard she asked, "Where did this one come from?"

For the first time since arriving back at the ship Peter looked her in the eye with a blank expression, trying to understand the expression she had on her face and the faces of the others who stood behind her.

Peter didn't understand. All his life since joining the Ravagers he had been cussed out for the inherent weaknesses of his species. He could recall many times when he had come back injured from a mission and scorned for weeks afterwards for slowing the others down. A few had even suggested to Yondu to toss him out the air lock, to which Yondu replied with a few swift ass kickings and no one dared suggest such a thing again. However Peter could still recall the scathing looks of contempt on each face that saw his wounds, which was why he preferred and learned how to treat himself.

This was why he didn't want his team seeing his scars. First of all he didn't see how it was any of their business, and second he was worried (not scared) that they would take one look at how easily he could be broken and no longer want him for a leader. However to his great surprise as he looked carefully at his comrades it wasn't pity or scorn at his weakness he was seeing in their gazes, it was empathy and something much fiercer. Determination, because they wanted to know how he had gotten his scars so they could either take revenge or ensure it never happened again.

Peter sighed this time letting some of the tension drain from his shoulders, fighting back a grin at the warm feelings he could sense in his chest. There were only two possibilities for the sensation; he was either coming down with a horrible alien disease or, somehow these people were turning him into an emotional teenage girl.

He hoped it was the former.

Peter looked down at the scar Gamora was tracing lightly with her fingertips, "I got that one when I was nicked with blaster fire when I was fourteen."

There was an almost palpable release of tension in the air, and the almost-a-smile that Gamora gave him made the admission worth it. The others drew a little closer, curiosity likely drawing them closer as Gamora's hands moved to another scar.

So without being asked Peter told them the short stories behind each scar as Gamora went from one to the next. The bullet wound on his shoulder from a trade gone bad, the slash just above his navel from a Ravager that wanted to gut and eat him, the burns on his chest from an engine explosion. The hardest to speak of were the ones on his back. There were puckered scars from a shrapnel bomb that had very nearly taken his life when he was sixteen. Then ragged tears from when he had been caught by a slave ring, it had taken Yondu a week to find him but not before the slave master had tried to 'teach' Peter a lesson.

It wasn't long before the others were showing a few of their battle scars (fewer and less impressive than his own but the stories were interesting) and laughing at a smallish scratch that Drax had on his foot from his first knife. Peter was quietly amazed as he looked at each of his team. They didn't see him as weak, in fact Drax had declared that scars were a symbol of bravery in his culture and that Peter would be seen as the bravest of warriors on his planet. However it was the silent look of promise in each of their eyes that truly helped Peter understand. Though nothing was said, he knew that they didn't think him weak and would never leave him over something so silly as a few scars. After all, not all scars are so close to the surface as his own.

So maybe, just maybe, he could learn to trust these crazy lunatics he found himself stuck with, at least for a little while.

Good, Bad, OOC? Tell me what you think! Review, because the bunnies demand it!