Hey everyone! Here's a little fan fiction I wrote for my awesome roommate who's really into Peter/Rocket and The Guardians of the Galaxy movie. I prostituted myself for some good 'ol CATS fan art so it goes to show that I can be bought.

Happy reading!

"…There's still time, we'll find that stone. No matter what."

In his sleep Rocket curled in closer to the wall, desperate to block out the others so he could get back to sleep before Drax got up to exercise. Which was all the time. That guy was a damn beast.

"Shut her up, will ya?" he groaned, reaching back to smack his… no one. He pulled away from the wall, finding himself alone on the mattress. Light and sound snuck in from the part in the thick curtain boxing in the bunk: Nova Corps ingenius way of providing privacy for five in a ship meant to accommodate a family of four… after a freak accident kills all but one. So Drax's family.

Voices floated through the drawn curtain, one low and tired, the other warm and rich like the oldest of blue stars. Suddenly Rocket couldn't care less about the noise. "…Shit. Not again."

With tiny dexterous paws Rocket crawled to the foot of the bunk and slipped out under the curtain and in behind the engine capsule. The ship was dark and cool except for the lone light glaring down over a mess of maps and telecommunicators and cups of coffee. To the side stood Peter, painstakingly poring the ship's mounted computer. It was clear he wasn't playing one of his retro games.

Gamora was in charge of watching the deck while the others slept; the next shift would have been Rocket's if anyone had actually trusted him not to crash the Milano into the nearest sun. She sat not up on the flight deck but behind him at the table. Her hair pinned back in a perfect bun Peter once said looked nice. She wore her hair like that a lot lately. "Peter please listen to me: there are thousands of planets in this quadrant— billions in this galaxy alone. If there is an infinity stone somewhere around here we're not going to find it. Not right now at least. You should really get some rest."

"So we're just going to sit here with our thumbs up our asses and wait for some idiot a quadrant over to scream 'I got it!' and then zoom over to pick it up?" Peter whirled and slammed his fist against the tabletop, breathing hard and quickly losing his cool. "Last time an infinity stone was loose an entire planet was almost destroyed. How many planets are we going to risk to find this one? I couldn't live with myself knowing I could have stopped it now."

How long had Peter been like that, Rocket wondered, so agitated and worked up… and over an infinity stone? It didn't make any sense, they stored the infinity stone. Sure the clueless human thought to give the most powerful tool in the universe to a society of goody kiss-asses who'd just lost almost all of their means of defense, but the stone was under control and Ronan was dead. Their biggest worry was fuelling the ship and not killing each other.

There was a long moment where both Gamora and Rocket watched Peter struggle to piece his composure back together with a shaky breath; she was the first to move, gracefully reaching over to squeeze his fingers. There was a determined look in her eyes that just made Rocket want to both laugh and vomit… all over that stupid bun of hers. "We're going to find that stone, Starlord."

Acquiescing, Peter nodded and dropped down into the chair beside her. Rocket's fur bristled as he brought his head to hers, their fingers intertwining on the tabletop like a pair of honeymooners. It was the simplest touch but it had him seeing red all the same. Who the hell was she to-

"Ow! Fuck!" He'd split his lip under the sharp edge of a fang. Hot blood flooded his teeth, some dripping down onto the engine cover. Panicked, Rocket looked up to Peter's eyes searching the sleeping area.

The human looked scared as he pulled from Gamora; could it have been that he was scared of… Rocket? "I'll take the watch now. Get some sleep, Gamora."

"Will do, Captain." They exchanged another look and Peter was off to nap on the flight deck. Rocket had to tear himself away from the sight of her smile, the forgotten John Stamos mug, the image of them holding hands to the sound of Drax's snoring.

He should go to bed—he should just pretend like all of this was one of many delusions from a fucked up brain that shouldn't even be able to think, let alone love.

But he cared for Peter so much. Rocket was a piece of shit who couldn't care to see the universe past his own snout, but somehow this human still loved him. And he was so sure that if he were born with the capacity to he'd love Peter until it killed him.

So instead of going to bed he stepped into the light of the common area, determined to protect what was his… even if Peter didn't want it. "Gamora."

She jerked up from her seat, guilty. "Oh, Rocket, you're awake. Peter's up on the flight deck—"

"I know where he is. I…" a deep breath for courage. "I need to talk to you. A-about him."

Gamora was a ruthless fighter by nature, equally suspicious, but exhaustion gave her a sort of gentleness that Rocket would be tempted to say was 'cute'. It came as no surprise she'd choose to stay quiet, rolling out her powerful shoulders nervously, looking anywhere else except at him.

"Look, I know this whole infinity thing means a lot to Peter—and to you—but you need to understand that he… he and I, we…"

She frowned. Gods he was doing a hell of a job of making an idiot out of himself. He'd wanted to tell her to fuck off, he wanted her to know how much he regretted letting Starlord save her from the abyss. So why couldn't he say it? "You're not making any sense. Maybe you should talk to Peter if you're—"

"No," he sniffed, rubbing the burning from his eye. "No, I need to talk to you. You need to know. You need to understand that Peter means a hell of a lot to me."

"I know." But did she care? Or did she know that she was the best for their eccentric, goofy leader?

"But you mean a lot to Peter," Rocket continued, unfolding truth after truth and hating how every one of them pointed right back at him. It wasn't Gamora's fault he wasn't empathetic or demonstrative; she never smacked Peter away when he'd want to hold hands or call him a 'faggot hairless humie' when he stole the blankets. Shit, she was a better boyfriend than Rocket! No wonder Peter's been staying up during her shifts. "You mean a lot to him and I know that if you really wanted to you could mean a whole lot more."

"Rocket…"

"I don't think he would have ever been with me if you hadn't turned him away. Now you two are up alone and planning and making oogley eyes at each other like a couple of-" Above them Peter's footsteps echoed up and down the aisle. Distracted she turned to the hatch, half expecting Peter to re-emerge for his forgotten coffee; this was his chance, to turn around and run for his and Peter's bunk. He almost took it too, but instead of running away like a scared… rodent, he wiped the tears on the sleeve of his jumpsuit.

"I love him so much. He's the only thing keeping me sane in here; his annoying laugh, the practical jokes, the fucking cassette on loop with the shitty dance moves… they make me happy," he pleaded, wringing this hands until the knuckles popped. Rocket's voice grew quiet, rough with the burn of unwanted tears. "Please don't take that away from me. I'm a fucking science experiment and for some reason he holds me at night and tells me he loves me—I can't lose that. I need him."

Whatever Gamora had to say he couldn't bear to hear; gathering the last of his pride he tucked tail and dove into the shadows. Back to his bed where he'd lie beneath the blankets, waiting for Peter to decide he was worth sleeping next to.