The air in the ship hung thick with tension. Peter, usually quick with a quip, was silent, his jaw clenched. Rocket, oblivious or simply too consumed by his own fury, hadn’t apologized. The argument had been over piloting controls, a broken console sparking a familiar, volatile exchange. But Rocket had crossed a line, dragging Peter’s mother into the fray.
“You’re so rude! Oh, I’m sorry, I forgot you didn’t have a mom to teach you some manners!” Rocket had shouted, the words landing like shards of glass. Peter hadn’t responded, his face a mask of stunned hurt. The others in the room – Gamora, Drax, even Groot – had recognized the transgression, the weight of it settling over them like a shroud. Rocket, lost in his rage, hadn’t seemed to notice the collective intake of breath.
They dispersed after that, seeking refuge in isolation. The unspoken agreement was to give them space, to let the heat dissipate. Too much time spent together, too much proximity, had become a breeding ground for irritation.
“Why does rabbit look upset?” Thor asked, strolling onto the bridge. The tension was still palpable, a silent, vibrating hum. Gamora sighed, running a hand through her green hair. “Him and Peter got into an argument. Rocket took it too far.”
“Where’s Quill now?” Thor inquired, his voice laced with concern.
“I think he’s in his room.” Gamora pointed towards the dimly lit corridor. Thor nodded, a flicker of determination in his eyes. He knew, instinctively, that Peter needed him. Others could offer temporary comfort, but only Thor could truly reach him in moments like these.
The room was shrouded in darkness, the only light emanating from a single, low-wattage lamp. The silhouette of Peter lay sprawled on the bed, facing away from the door, headphones clamped over his ears. The faint pulse of music drifted into the hallway.
Thor sat on the edge of the mattress, close enough for Peter to feel the weight of his presence. He waited patiently, allowing Peter to acknowledge him. After a moment, Peter removed his headphones, his eyes red-rimmed and swollen.
“What?” Peter asked, his voice rough.
“Gamora told me what happened. Do you want to talk about it?” Thor asked gently, his hand hovering over Peter's back. Peter sat up, flicking on the overhead lights. The evidence of tears was etched onto his face.
“He mentioned my mom,” Quill choked out, his voice laced with pain.
Thor’s hand settled on Peter’s shoulder, a comforting weight. “I know how sensitive you get when she’s mentioned. But he was just angry, people say stuff they don't mean when they’re angry.”
Peter clutched a faded photograph of his mother, his fingers tracing the worn edges. “I know you miss her. He didn’t mean it.” He sniffed again, his voice cracking. “It still hurts.”
“I know it does, baby. I know.” Thor pulled Peter into a hug, a "Thunder Hug" as he called it. A gentle static charge ran through Peter’s body, causing him to giggle. It was a silly, impulsive gesture, but it often broke the tension. Sometimes, though, it only delayed the inevitable wave of grief.
After a moment, Thor pressed his forehead against Peter’s. “Let’s get your mind off of her,” he murmured, brushing a soft kiss against Peter’s lips. “Let’s go stargaze. We haven’t done it in a while, let’s do it now.”
Peter didn’t budge. He sank back into the pillows, a groan escaping his lips. “I don’t really feel like it.”
Thor sighed, knowing the stubborn streak well. He’d learned to navigate it, to accept it as part of the package. But that didn’t diminish his love for the Starlord. “Alright, you made me do this, babe.” In one swift motion, Thor scooped Peter up over his shoulder and headed for the door.
“We’re going on a walk,” Thor announced with a grin as he walked past the others.
“No, we’re not,” Peter protested, his voice muffled against Thor’s shoulder. The others exchanged questioning glances, then a smile.
Their stargazing spot was on the roof of the ship. The stars stretched out above them, a vast, glittering expanse. “Why do you have to be so stubborn?” Thor teased.
“You love it though.” Peter smiled faintly.
“Yes, I do,” Thor replied, leaning in to kiss Peter's lips. "And I love that smile of yours." The warmth of Thor's lips against his own chased away the lingering sting of Rocket's words. For a moment, bathed in starlight, Peter felt the familiar comfort of belonging, of being held, of being loved. The darkness hadn't vanished entirely, but it had softened, edged with a glimmer of hope.