User:~Silverstream/Fanfiction Vermin With the Plant

Vermin With the Plant

It WAS a relatively quiet day on the Milano space ship, as far as a group of assassins, thieves, thugs, and maniacs can be. So far guns had only been drawn once, courtesy of Rocket, when Drax took the last of the peanut butter at breakfast. That ended with a very sticky and panicked Peter.

Around the Milano, Peter was always the one to sort out the fights, probably because he was the most rational of the group. Not that that's saying much. Still, it was up to him to keep relative order on his ship.

As previously mentioned, almost everything had gone smoothly that day, until Rocket got a little curious, and decided to take a tour of Gamora's closet. Let's just say, when the deadliest woman in the galaxy catches you with her undergarments, you immediately run to save your tail.

Gamora, in all her green rage, pelted toward rocket with Godslayer in her hand. Rocket was yelling obscenities while he fumbled with his machine gun. The chase extended into the lounge area, where Rocket attempted to hide behind a couch. However, Gamora simply proceeded to slash the couch open, slicing the tips of his whiskers.

Rocket yelped, and ran to hide behind tiny baby Groot in his little terra cotta pot. "C'mon Mora, you wouldn't slice through helpless lil' Groot here, now would'ja?"

Gamora pressed her lips together firmly, frustrated with his use of the adorable baby plant.

"I am Groot?" The tiny tree sqeaked in question.

"No," Gamora growled, in answer to Rocket. "However, the doesn't mean I won't do anything to your precious gun..." She cocked an eyebrow as she lifted up the large machine gun that Rocket had dropped earlier, in exchange for Groot.

Gamora mockingly contemplated what to do with it. "Hmm, I wonder how Godslayer would look stuck right through the middle of this contraption...?"

Rocket's dark eyes widened in terror. "Now now, Gamora, ya wouldn't really... Would ya?" He scratched at the ground nervously as he eyed her grasping his gun.

"Oh, I would," Gamora said fiercely. "Make a decision, Rocket. Will it be you, or your gun?"

Rocket didn't even want to imagine what Gamora would do to him if he let her near his body, but he also couldn't stand to have his favorite gun stabbed to death. So he took what he saw to be his only option. He tilted his head back, and screamed, "QUIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIILLLLLL!!!!"

Within seconds Peter arrived at the scene, his caramel curls flying in all directions, and his blue eyes wide in panic. "What the hell's going on?!"

"Ask the vermin with the plant!" Gamora spat, dropping the gun to the floor.

"My baby!" Rocket ran to retrieve it, and immediately checked it for damage. He sighed in relief when he saw it was fine. Gamora rolled her eyes and turned to Peter. "This little prick was running his grubby paws through my clothes!"

If looks could kill, Rocket would've been road kill.

Peter pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. "Rocket, how many times have I told you, it's not polite to sift through women's undergarments!"

Rocket huffed and looked at the floor. "In my defense, I thought she might be flattered..."

"FLATTERED?!" Gamora screeched.

She looked as though she was about to rip Rocket's vocal cords out of his throat, so Peter did the one thing he knew would stop her. He grabbed her the shoulders, and pulled her into a kiss. She tried to protest, but quickly melted as she returned the kiss.

When Peter finally released her, she smacked him across the face. "I hate you."

Peter held his hands up in defeat. "I suppose I deserved that. Now Rocket, you owe me for saving your tail. Now both of you, just... Apologize, and be on your way."

He stepped back and gestured to the two of them.

"Sorry," "Sorry," they both blurted dishonestly.

Peter took what he could get. He buried his face in his hands again. "Good. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm gonna go...give myself a therapy session."

With that, he left the two still ticked-off creatures in the lounge, praying that the rest of the night would pass without any more screaming.