Chapter Text
I'm not a perfect person
There's many things I wish I didn't do
Who could have predicted that I would turn out the way I did? Certainly not me—not in a million years.
To be honest, I never thought I’d live as long as I have. I was sure that one day, someone I’d pissed off would come knocking at my door and put a bullet between my eyes. And considering the number of people I’ve managed to anger in my life, that was a very real possibility.
I was a pro at pissing people off.
But I continue learning
I never meant to do those things to you
I still remember the way you looked at me in that bar, back when we barely knew each other. You were just another person I’d managed to upset, someone I was supposed to screw over. But I was sad, hurt, and worst of all, drunk and armed.
“He thinks I’m some stupid thing! He does!” I fought back the tears, but I knew they were about to spill over anyway.
“Well, I didn’t ask to get made!” I saw something break inside you at that moment. I saw the exact second I stopped being the thug working with you to save the universe and became something else entirely.
“I didn’t ask to be torn apart and put back together over and over, turned into some-… Some little monster.”
“Rocket, no one’s calling you a monster.”
You were angry, but not at me. You were angry for me. Angry that anyone could do something so horrible to create someone like me.
Looking back, that was the moment I realized, that 'Hey, this human isn’t a bad guy. He’s actually a good, honest person who just had some shitty luck.'
You proved my point even further when you almost died saving Gamora in the void of space not long after.
And so, I have to say before I go
That I just want you to know
I don’t know when I started to really like you, though.
It wasn’t when you snuck me extra snacks so the others wouldn’t see me getting more than them.
It wasn’t when we were roommates on the Milano, and the sound of your snoring became oddly comforting.
It wasn’t when you played music while I worked, helping me focus.
It wasn’t when you quietly cleaned up the messes I made during my tinkering experiments.
It wasn’t when we drove the ship together, humming to the same tune, comfortable in the silence.
It wasn’t even when you went along with my crazy ideas, like testing my new jet packs or the semi-permeable deep-space body protection mesh outside the ship. (Gamora had been so furious about that one.)
It was all so confusing, so new, and so difficult for me. But slowly, you became my best friend.
I've found a reason for me
To change who I used to be
Why?
Gamora was the sneaky one, the assassin. But you—you were the one I found myself looking forward to talking to every day. I had built walls around my heart, but you slipped right through them without a care in the world. The path was lined with barbed wire and shards of glass, yet you walked it anyway.
I didn’t understand. Why did you care? And why were you so important to me?
You weren't the most talented person, or the strongest, and definitely not the smartest.
You were imperfect, barely keeping your life together, yet you smiled so genuinely, as if nothing bothered you. And I know things bothered you. I was the one you talked to when things got bad, the one you leaned on. Yet, through all the pain and struggles, nothing could stop you.
A reason to start over new
And the reason is you
You were real. You didn’t strive for perfection or try to fit into some predetermined mold. You were just you. And that’s why I admired you.
You didn’t care about the shitty hand life dealt you. After running from your past, after being put through hell, you were still thriving. You accepted who you were, flaws and all. And you accepted me in the same way.
Before I knew it, your warmth and joy had spread to me. All I had ever seen in myself was imperfection, brokenness, and fault. But you saw me, with all my jagged edges, unresolved traumas, and emotional issues, and STILL thought the world of me.
You never doubted me. You never saw me as less than you. You saw me as I was and still believed I was more than enough. Even when I thought I was nothing more than a mistake, a little beast created by a man with a god complex, you made me feel like I didn’t have to fix myself to be loved.
And by then, I long knew I was in love with you.
I'm sorry that I hurt you
It's something I must live with everyday
But that came with its own challenges.
Your heart belonged to someone else, someone I could never hope to replace. She was what you were looking for, and I wasn’t her. But it didn’t matter to me. I would be there to catch you if she couldn’t, whether she was busy eviscerating bad guys or infiltrating terrorist organizations.
I would be the eyes on the back of her head when it came to you.
Sadly, I wasn’t as good at catching you as she was. When she was gone, I couldn’t keep you from hitting the bottom of the bottle.
I failed you.
And all the pain I put you through
I wish that I could take it all away
Still, I stayed by your side. Even when you were angry at me for yelling at you for drinking too much. Even when you were so broken you couldn’t pick yourself up off the floor. Even when I had to clean up the messes you made when things got bad.
I would be there for you, just like you were there for me, no matter what.
But I wasn’t made with a “good at taking care of others” ability. That’s why I had to ask Nebula for help. She was Gamora’s sister, so maybe she could do a better job. It worked to some degree, even though it made you think I had given up on you. But I never did. I always worried about you, pestered Nebula for updates, and even moved into the apartment next to yours to keep an eye on you.
And be the one who catches all your tears
That's why I need you to hear
And even then, even despite my failures, you would still travel to the other side of the galaxy, infiltrate one of the most secure companies in the galaxy, throw yourself off a building, fight with an army of mutant aberrations, AND escape an exploding planet just to save me.
You still believed in me, even when I didn’t believe in myself. That's why when you considered I was strong enough to lead the Guardians, I rose to the task.
With a new sense of self-worth, a new team, and a desire to make you proud, I took on everything the galaxy threw at me.
Everything I have now, I owe to you. You made me realize I don’t have to be perfect or fit into some predetermined mold born out of numbers, cold calculations, and variables to deserve happiness. I am more than my past. That I deserve to live. I deserve to be happy. I deserve to be loved.
I've found a reason for me
To change who I used to be
A reason to start over new
Which is why what I did to you was inexcusable. I was wrong. So that's why no matter what you chose, no matter where this road led us. I will stand by you.
I will catch you if you fall, for I am far stronger than I was before.
I will hold you together if you crumble since I can now fix what I couldn't before.
I will support you, and I'll show you how much I've grown thanks to you.
And the reason is you
Knowhere, somewhere else. Rocky's apartment.
“Yeah, just a quick shower. We don’t want to stink up the place and scare the other patrons away, dude!” Peter joked as he and Rocket arrived at Rocky’s apartment. They were at the base of the stairs, reminiscing about their shared adventures. “Not everyone enjoys the smell of musky raccoon.”
“Ah, so not everyone is you, then?” Rocket teased.
“Hey, I got used to the stench after the first month. It kinda grew on me.”
“Well, apparently you liked it enough to keep me as your roommate on every ship we’ve had,” Rocket retorted. “You smell too, baby boo. It’s not exactly the scent of roses.”
Peter chuckled, pulling out the electronic keycard to open the door.
“Ah, so the guy who used to steal my clothes is gonna talk about it, huh? You still haven’t returned my scarves and favorite jacket by the way,” Peter said as he opened the door, secretly pleased when Rocket sputtered.
“No fair, you were gone and—”
“Nah-uh,” Peter interrupted, holding up a finger as he searched for clothes to change into after his shower. He also grabbed something more comfortable for Rocket to wear. “I meant before that. Gamora told me about how she caught you sneaking my stuff out during one of your ‘steal from Quill’ sessions.”
Was there anything Gamora didn’t notice? Rocket thought, embarrassed. I thought she hadn’t mentioned it to him.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I was just stealing parts from your room, like I always did,” Rocket feigned ignorance, though he vividly remembered the night Gamora caught him in the act of being the main character of his own downfall.
It had been so embarrassing to have Gamora silently take the basket of Quil's stuff from his hands at three a.m. while the raccoon just stood there like an Orloni caught in the headlights when he heard her clear her throat. They had avoided eye contact during the whole ordeal.
It was one thing both he and Gamora silently agreed to never acknowledge to each other EVER.
“Hey, on the bright side, at least you didn’t steal my underwear,” Peter commented as he started removing his shirt.
“Never, dude. Who do you take me for?” Rocket was glad Peter couldn’t see the way his fur stood on end. At least Gamora hadn’t found out about that.
Or had she?
Oh my god, if you did, wherever you are, I’m so sorry.
“Hey, do you think we can make a quick stop for burgers near Calisto’s?” Peter asked as he discarded his shirt and started removing his pants.
“Yeah, sure. I didn’t know there was a Calisto’s in this universe. Those are delicio—” Rocket trailed off as he saw Peter casually removing his pants as if Rocket wasn’t right there with him. “What are you—Pete, what are you doing?!”
Rocket’s ears and cheeks burned as he stopped Peter mid-motion, just before he could remove his underwear.
“Dude, what’s the issue? I’m just getting ready to—” Peter paused, realizing what was happening. “Oh, my bad!” He rushed to the bathroom, hopping on the legs of his pants.
Peter had gotten so used to life in Rocky’s apartment that he’d momentarily forgotten Rocket wasn’t the same person. The raccoon had only seen him naked the one time they were arrested at the Kylnn and that was it, while with Rocky, they were so used to seeing each other naked, they'd probably be more surprised if they were fully clothed, they'd seen each that way so many times, they were practically related by nudity.
“Sorry, man. Just a habit I need to break!” Peter called out from behind the closed bathroom door, smile on his face.
Rocket cleared his throat, trying to regain his composure. If he hadn’t said anything, he would’ve gotten a full view, and while that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, it would’ve been awkward given the situation.
“Yeah, no. It’s cool. You shower first, and I’ll go after you,” Rocket said, adjusting his pants.
Pete looks… really good, Rocket thought. I’d forgotten how good.
The sound of Peter’s laughter pulled Rocket out of his thoughts.
“What’s so funny?” Rocket asked, still feeling the heat in his cheeks.
“Nothing, buddy. It’s just… it’s so good to have you back,” Peter said, laughing.
Rocket’s ears and cheeks burned even more as a warm feeling spread through his chest.
“Yeah, likewise,” Rocket said softly. “Now hurry up, or you won’t get any burgers, you D’ast idiot.”
Peter chuckled as he turned on the shower. There was a familiar feeling in his chest, one he hadn’t felt in a long time. Something he couldn’t quite name.
Rocket stared at the closed bathroom door, listening to the sound of running water. It was the first time they’d had a chance to hang out together in a long while. The other Rocket—Rocky—rarely left Peter’s side, clinging to him at every moment he could, leaving little room for them to reconnect.
In a way, I understand his neediness, Rocket thought. To know someone for so long, lose them, and then get them back…
Rocket had seen how much losing Gamora had affected Peter. While he couldn’t compare what Peter had with Gamora to what Rocky had with his Peter, the parallels were clear.
Rocket inspected the clothes Peter had left on the floor, noticing a fresh set laid out for him. Instead of going to his pile, he picked up Peter’s used shirt, taking a tentative sniff. The familiar scent brought him comfort, one he had missed for so long. In true raccoon fashion, he quickly hid the shirt among the pillows in his hammock.
“What’s that, buddy?” Peter called out from the bathroom.
“What?” Rocket replied, climbing down from the hammock.
“I thought I heard you say something.”
“I haven’t said a word,” Rocket said, sitting on the bed. “We haven’t even started drinking, and you’re already making no sense.”
Peter laughed. “Welp, maybe it was your thoughts calling to me. I’ll have you know I’m an eMpAtH,” he said mockingly.
“Ugh, please don’t become another Mantis,” Rocket groaned laying on the bed while he waited. “Hey, is this universe’s Mantis still around?”
“What?” Peter yelled from the bathroom.
“Your sister. Is she around?”
“Oh, I think so. Rocky said she left after Drax died, but unlike ours, she wasn’t entirely gone. She even came to my—I mean, their Peter’s funeral and then dipped again.”
“Haven’t you tried to contact her?” Rocket asked, stretching his sore muscles.
“No, why? Should I?”
“Thought you might want to see her again, given you haven’t seen yours in a while.”
Peter came out of the shower, drying his hair and wearing only a fresh pair of pants. Rocket made a mental note not to stare too much.
Wow, that's a quick shower.
“Just wasn’t something I thought about, given everything else going on,” Peter said.
“So, Rocky is named ‘everything else’ now,” Rocket teased, causing Peter to playfully smack him with the thrown towel.
“Okay, Mr. Funny. I get it,” Peter said, putting on a shirt. “Have you heard from her, though? Our Mantis, I mean.”
“I haven’t, but Nebula has. You know how those two are,” Rocket said, commenting on their very close bond while looking for a fresh towel. “She’s doing fine. She’s met all kinds of people and learned from different cultures, going on adventures everywhere, just like she wanted.”
Peter smiled warmly. “That’s good to hear. I miss her, you know? I miss all of you.”
“Well, there’s a quick fix for that. We’ll figure it out once the machine is done,” Rocket said, walking into the bathroom with a towel and clothes in hand.
Peter looked at the locked door, lost in thought. The Terran went over to the Zune, HIS Zune, the one he had given Rocket, and hooked it up to the speaker system, letting the device play on shuffle mode.
The former Starlod, looked at the device. Really looked at it this time. It was scary how when he looked at it now he could see that his Zune was different from the one Rocky had. Both devices had probably the same serial number but you could tell them apart just by looking at them and seeing the way the different events they 'lived' through shaped the way both are now. Even the tiniest of details like the almost invisible scratches on the screen were different. Both were the same device but still different.
Yeah, when the machine is done…
Soon, it would all be over. He would have to choose between his new life and his old one. The time was coming when he would have to let go of one forever.
Peter stood in the middle of the apartment, his eyes swept across the room, but instead of comfort or familiarity, a strange, bizarre sensation curled in the pit of his stomach. The space was filled with objects that should have felt familiar, should have been familiar, but instead, they felt alien, like artifacts from someone else’s existence.
Because they were. Both were the same but still different.
The record player in the corner, its needle resting silently on a vinyl he couldn’t recall buying. The bed sheets, crumpled and unmade, had an embroidered pattern he didn’t remember choosing. The shower head in the bathroom, the fridge humming softly in the kitchen, even the shirt he just put on, its fabric soft against his skin, none of it was his. Not really.
He ran his thumb over the hem of the shirt, a harmless habit he’d picked up since he had a talk with Rocket that day at the workshop. It was a nice shirt, well-worn, and comfortable. He’d worn it countless times since arriving in this place, this life. But he couldn’t remember buying it. He couldn’t remember any of it. Because he wasn't the one to have bought it or even received it as a gift.
This wasn’t his life. These weren’t his things. This wasn’t his apartment.
Hell, even the underwear he was wearing didn’t belong to him. They belonged to someone else, someone who no longer existed. Someone who had lived here, loved here, died here. And now Peter was here, wearing his clothes, using his shower, sleeping in his bed, with his boyfriend, living his life. It was surreal, like stepping into a stranger’s shoes and finding they fit perfectly, even though they shouldn’t. Even though they couldn’t.
The same but still different.
The bizarre feeling gnawed at him, just like all the other times it has since he started getting these thoughts. It wasn’t just the objects, the physical things that surrounded him. It was the life itself. The relationships. The memories, or lack thereof. The people who loved this Peter Quill, the one who had died, now loved him. They looked at him with the same warmth, the same affection, but it wasn’t him they were seeing. It was a ghost. A shadow. A variant.
Peter Quill from this dimension was gone. Dead. And Peter- this Peter, the one from another timeline, another universe, whatever the hell it was- had slipped into his place like a hand into a glove. He had taken over this life, this apartment, these relationships, as if they had always been his. But they hadn’t. They never would be.
When he was with Rocky, it was easier to ignore. Easier to lose himself in the distractions of their life together, watching Holo-TV, having sex, laughing over stupid jokes, sharing quiet moments that felt so real, so right. But when he was alone, like now, especially after Rocket came back into his life, the weight of it all came crashing down.
The discomfort that even Rocky had been seeing not him, but his Peter was something he didn't want to consider but knew was a fact.
The unease settled in his stomach, heavy and unshakable. He wasn’t just living someone else’s life. He was erasing his own.
Every time he wore that shirt, every time he slept in that bed, every time he opened that fridge, he was chipping away at the memory of the Peter Quill who had come before him and taking his place. He was taking away his life, his death, his legacy. And for what? Because he had nowhere else to go? Because this life was convenient? Because it was easier to pretend than to face the truth?
The truth was this: he was an imposter. A stand-in. A replacement. And no matter how much he tried to convince himself otherwise, the bizarre, unsettling feeling never went away. It lingered, like a shadow at the edges of his vision, a whisper in the back of his mind. This wasn’t his life. It never would be. And yet, here he was, living it anyway.
Peter sank onto the bed, his fingers digging into the mattress as he took a deep calming breath, his mattress, but not his mattress. Even though he was alone. The walls seemed to close in, pressing against him, suffocating him with the weight of everything he had taken, everything he had stolen.
He closed his eyes, trying to push the thoughts away, but they only grew louder, more insistent. This wasn’t his life.
And yet, he had no choice but to live it.
"Hey, you okay, Pete?"
Except, now he did. Didn't he?
Rocket's voice made Peter sit up straight, forcibly pulling his thoughts away from all the bad stuff. The raccoon was casually drying his still wet fur with a towel, wearing the pair of damp pants Peter had chosen for him.
Rocket’s presence had been a ray of light and a rough wake-up call ever since he arrived here. He was a reminder of everything Peter would leave behind and a slap in the face with a spiked glove, making him aware of what he was doing every time they talked.
Of what he had been doing to Rocky.
“Oh, yeah, I’m fine—totally. Just—” Peter noticed his hands were shaking, and Rocket had noticed too. The shame of his friend seeing him like that made Peter pull his hands back, trying to hide his unease. “I just—”
“Hey, hey, Pete,” Rocket said, rushing to his friend’s side. “Look at me. Hey, look at me, Pete.” Rocket tenderly reached for Peter’s hands, holding them firmly despite their size difference.
“I’m here,” Rocket said, locking eyes with Peter. “I’ve got you, Pete.”
Rocket’s eyes weren’t filled with pity or sadness. They showed warmth, strength, resolution, and kindness—a tenderness he hadn’t been capable of before.
“Breathe, buddy. Breathe with me,” Rocket said, inhaling deeply and exhaling slowly, never breaking eye contact. Peter started mimicking Rocket’s breathing. “You’re okay. I’m here.”
After a few minutes, Peter felt better, the panic attack subsiding. A tender claw wiped away a tear he hadn’t realized had fallen.
“Thanks,” Peter whispered once his breathing was under control. “Wow, I didn’t see that coming. Haven't had a mini panic attack since I got fired from my first job in new Asgard,” he chuckled, trying to brush off what had just happened.
“Sometimes that happens,” Rocket said calmly, offering a comforting smile at Peter. “I know you probably don’t want to talk about it, but if you ever do, I’m here Pete.” Rocket picked up the towel again, resuming the task of drying his fur.
Peter smiled back. “Since when are you so good at handling people’s emotions?” he asked, standing up.
“Well, I kinda had to get used to it,” Rocket said, drying the inside of his ears. “When you have to get an entire planet’s population to trust you so you can evacuate them, you learn how to deal with people.”
“Wow, color me impressed,” Peter said, fishing out Rocky’s fur dryer. Rocky had hidden it from Rocket because he didn’t want Rocket using it. “You’ve changed. Here.”
“Is that a compliment or…?” Rocket asked, taking the dryer from Peter "Thanks, was looking for it."
Peter watched Rocket use the dryer, choosing not to answer. Rocket had grown a lot as a person. Peter had seen the way he now treated others, the way he carried himself. It was as if he had evolved. And that both amazed and scared Peter.
What would their dynamic be after this?
So far, Rocket had treated him just like old times, though sometimes something slipped through—like Rocket’s guilt or this newfound tenderness. The way he had handled Peter’s panic attack was proof of Rocket’s new approach to things.
Peter didn’t know what to call it.
He just feels different.
Is he still the same?
Or am I clinging to the past, like with Rocky?
“This D’ast piece of shit! That asshole!” Peter saw Rocket struggling with the dryer, growling at the device. His fur, instead of drying, looked messier, even tangled in some places. “The fucker messed with the settings, knowing I’d use it. What the hell is his problem?!” Rocket let out a string of curses under his breath, promising revenge on his variant.
No, this wasn’t the same as with Rocky.
“He changed the damn password too! Can you believe- Ugh!” Rocket said angrily, gowling, sitting on the floor, ready to take the dryer apart. “I swear to God, I’ll program the toilet to heat up like a stove and burn his ass every time he uses it. That’ll teach him.”
Rocket was still himself.
Peter chuckled. One disadvantage of space was that every device was overly complex, even personal ones. Not like the simple analog things on Earth. Everything in space had a screen, could connect to the net, or required a password.
He had just grown into a better version of himself, but he was still the Rocket Peter knew.
“Let me see that before you take it apart, grumpy-butt. I might know the password,” Peter said, taking the futuristic-looking device. He tried one of Rocky’s favorite passwords, and the dryer beeped in confirmation on the first try.
“I could’ve done that…” Rocket muttered, pouting and crossing his arms.
Peter chuckled, watching Rocket’s back, where the fur had grown back. He could see more meat than what Rocket used to have before, he had been already gaining a healthy build since the guardians became an offccial group, but now it was very noticeable. Though his fur looked like a total mess, tangled from Rocky’s prank.
I need to grow too.
“Hey, dude…” Peter remembered helping Rocky dry his fur and how the Procyon had told him how his Peter used to do that for him, and how enjoyable it was. “Want me to help you dry your fur, and then we can head out?”
I need to stop clinging to the past and move forward, like they have.
Rocket visibly stiffened, his ear flicking was the only indication he’d heard Peter. “Sure,” was the only acknowledgment Peter got.
“Okay, but don’t bite me,” Peter said, kneeling behind Rocket. “I promise I’ll be careful.” He ignored how Rocket audibly swallowed.
Peter had accidentally learned a lot about Rocket thanks to his relationship with Rocky. The way Rocket liked certain things for odd reasons, his past, his dislikes, his preferences, and even more… intimate details he wouldn’t have known otherwise.
In a way, it was funny how Rocky had made Peter feel closer to Rocket.
Peter placed a tentative hand on Rocket’s back. The raccoon flinched but didn’t move. His body was warm and soft, even though his fur was tangled and damp. Peter could feel Rocket’s heartbeat through his palm—fast, healthy, and probably nervous.
A song started playing on the speakers as Peter turned the dryer on. The futuristic device was nearly mute as Peter used it to work on Rocket’s fur, being extra careful and tender. It was the first time he’d done this with his Rocket, and it was definitely the first time Rocket had let anyone do this for him.
Peter smiled to himself as 'The Reason' by Hoobastank began to play. Slowly, he felt Rocket relax under his care. His signature raccoon purring caressing the Terran's ears with its pleasant sound.
He wondered if he and Rocket could ever be as close as Rocky had been with his Peter Quill.
The thought that they might made the warm feeling in his chest grow even stronger.