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I Want You Back

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Some months after the final battle with Thanos, the Guardians of the Galaxy were assembled in the common room of the Benatar, sharing (and in Thor’s case, hogging) drinks. Gamora (not their Gamora, but Gamora nevertheless) had finally agreed to meet with the team, and everyone on board was in relatively high spirits.

Of course a certain topic came up, as much as Quill refused to admit it--he was still in love with the ex-assassin, even if she wasn’t quite the same as she had been before--.


Before everything.

“Say, Nebula, what--what exactly did you mean when you told Gamora it was me or the tree?”

The cyborg fixed him with an expression that unsettled him--well, to be honest, all of her expressions kind of unsettled Peter, as well as the rest of the team (except Rocket, who had apparently gotten to be best buds with her in the five years that they had been...gone).

“I meant exactly what I said. Gamora asked me if you were really the one she fell for. I told her the truth.”

“But...seriously? The tree, who, at the time she would have known him, was an angsty adolescent?”

“Well, yes. You were highly similar in maturity. I would argue that now Groot would have a higher chance than you, with how much he has grown since our victory.”

“I am Groot?” The tree in question, now almost a full adult, looked over from the game of poker that he, Thor and Rocket were playing. Peter nodded, and gestured towards the other end of the sofa, where Drax and Mantis were discussing-- something.

“Yeah, Nebula, what about Drax?”

The Destroyer glanced up curiously. “I am sorry, Gamora, but I would not be able to please you physically. That is an honour which I would only give to my dear Yvette. May she be at peace knowing we have stopped Thanos.”

There was a momentary beat of silence as Gamora considered all of this, then--.

“What the flarg am I, chopped liver?” It was Rocket’s turn to look up, and he flashed his teeth in mild annoyance at being left out of the running.

Gamora couldn’t help but let out a snicker, and she walked towards him and leaned in close to his ear.

“If you ever tried to bed me, Rocket, your liver would be last on the list of things I would chop.”

She smiled sweetly as the raccoonoid’s hackles raised and he turned away, pretending to busy himself with the poker game again.

Lord, and I thought Nebula was a sadist.

There was another moment of silence, and Rocket felt every set of eyes in the room boring into him--.

“Aw, hell. I said that out loud, didn’t I?"