A/N: I pictured season one John Snow's hair for Peter's pre haircut look.

It was a rare quiet day aboard the Milano. Peter hadn't been joking when he'd suggested the Guardians do "a bit of both." They easily found trouble wherever they went, and Gamora was fairly sure they caused just as much as they fixed. It was a miracle that they had all survived the whirlwind of dangerous jobs (some of which had been very badly botched), daring thefts, rescues, and bar fights, not to mention each other's company.

Now, for the first time in months, they weren't running out of fuel, or hiding from the police, or being chased by Ravagers. It had been more than a week since anything had blown up, and a couple days since anyone had said anything resembling a death threat. It was peaceful bliss, and Gamora was enjoying every minute of it.

It had been years since she had felt so at home anywhere. Yes, the Milano was a little cramped for five people, and the close confinement had set her on edge for the first few weeks, but she had come to enjoy her teammates' company. Being so close to them was nothing like living under Thanos' watchful eye.

Living in Thanos' "family" had been unbearable. It was only the paralyzing fear of being perceived as weak that kept her from locking herself in her quarters or running away. When she first joined the Guardians, she had given into her fear and had kept to herself whenever they weren't on missions. Over time, though, she realized she didn't have to be afraid. Instead of hiding in her room, she would sit with Rocket while he tinkered, or spar with Drax, or dance with Groot when she was sure no one else was looking. They made her feel safe.

They were her friends, and she trusted them.

That was why she was sitting in the galley instead of her quarters while she performed some much needed maintenance on her cybernetic implants.

She had made herself a cup of tea which she was sipping leisurely while she waited for the mechanism in her knee to finish recharging when Peter walked into the room. So much for peace and quiet.

"Hey," he said cheerfully as he flopped down into the chair next to her, "How's the deadliest most beautiful woman in the galaxy doing this fine afternoon?" He flashed his most charming con-man smile as she stared at him blankly.

Very unimpressed, Gamora sat down her tea and crossed her arms, "What do you want?"

Peter's face fell immediately and he clutched at his heart, "Do you really think so little of me? I'm hurt, Gamora, I really am."

She really hoped he wouldn't notice the corner's of her mouth twitching as she suppressed a grin, but of course, he did. His smile reappeared in an instant, but this time, it was a little sheepish.

"I was wondering if you would mind doing me a favor."

Gamora smirked. Just as I thought. "That depends, Star-lord. What is this favor?"

"I don't know if you noticed, but my hair's gotten pretty long."

She had noticed. While it had been far from neatly kept when she first met him, Peter's hair had recently become somewhat of a catastrophe. It was a messy, shaggy mass of curls that fell in his face and nearly reached his shoulders. Lately, he had been complaining about it getting caught in his mask.

"Well," he continued slowly, "I was hoping you could maybe cut it for me,"

She blinked.

"You want me to cut your hair?" she asked skeptically.

"Yeah," he furrowed his eyebrows as if she had asked a dumb question. "I can't do it myself. Groot can't really hold scissors, plus he's a tree. Drax keeps trying to sell me on the benefits of being bald, so I'm not gonna ask him, and I'm not letting Rocket get anywhere near my hair with scissors. You're my only hope. Please don't make me beg."

Before she could even open her mouth to answer, he started begging.

"Please please please please!"

"Enough!" she shouted even though she found his little act annoyingly endearing, "I will do this favor if you will cease your whining."

"Great!" He punched at nothing just as her knee implant beeped to signal the completion of its charge. She carefully unplugged it and closed the socket.

"When do you want me to—" she looked up, but Peter and the chair he had been sitting in were gone.

"I'll get the stuff," he called from somewhere alarmingly far away. She followed his voice down the hall to the Milano's one small bathroom and the sight that greeted her made her raise an eyebrow.

A towel was spread out across the floor with the missing chair positioned at its center, and a comb, an eclectic razor, and an old pair of scissors were lined up on the counter. Apparently Peter had been very confident she would say yes. That didn't irk her as much as it should have.

The source of her frustration was completely ignoring her obvious annoyance. He had a ratty towel draped around his shoulders and he gave her a dopey grin before sitting in the chair with his back to her. He snatched the scissors off the counter and held them out to her over his shoulder.

Gamora took them slowly. Suddenly, the whole situation felt absurdly unnerving. She had never done anything like this before. The last thing she wanted was to alienate Peter when she was just starting to consider him her friend. For the first time in months, she felt the urge to run away.

"I've never cut anyone's hair before, Peter," she took a hesitant step back, "Are you sure you don't want to wait until we reach Xandar and have a professional do this?"

"I'm sure," he said without turning around. "Hey, don't overthink it, ok? It doesn't have to look fancy or anything, just shorter. I'm almost 80% sure you'll do a great job, and if you screw it up, I'll just have to buy a hat to hide your failure."

She smacked his shoulder.

"Seriously though," he craned his neck so he could met her eyes. "If you really don't want to do it, you don't have to."

She smacked his shoulder again. "I know that," she huffed indignantly even as she grinned. She stepped forward, and he settled in his chair.

She started to scold him for slouching but stopped herself when she realized he had probably done it intentionally so she could easily reach the top of his head. She peered over his shoulder at his long legs, which were sprawled haphazardly in front of him, and the idle twiddling of his thumbs and came to another realization. He was completely relaxed.

Yet another realization came with this discovery. It wasn't messing up his hair that scared her, it was the thought that he couldn't possibly trust her, a ruthless killer, to do this for him. She had convinced herself that no one trusted her that much. But now, it was incredibly obvious that he did. Peter knew she was hailed as Deadliest Woman in the Galaxy, he'd seen her skills up close, and yet here he was, siting perfectly comfortably with his back to her after having handed her a potentially lethal weapon. Of course she'd known that he trusted her as a fellow warrior to have his back in combat, but she had never recognized just how willing he was to put his life in her hands. She couldn't decide if it was incredibly sweet or stupid.

She laid her hand on his shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze.

"Thanks for letting me do this, Peter," she said softly because there weren't tears prickling her eyes.

He nodded, and even though he didn't say anything, she knew he understood the weight of her words.

Now just as relaxed as Peter was, Gamora picked up the comb and began gently running it through his hair until it was somewhat neat. When it seemed to be as good as it was going to get, she traded the comb for the scissors, carefully lifted a curl, and snipped.

—

Once her initial nerves finally settled, cutting Peter's hair was actually a very pleasant experience. She would never admit it upon pain of death, but she thought that Peter had very nice hair. Its bright color and general disheveled state mirrored his carefree tendencies and added to what he called his "rugged charm."

Sometimes when Rocket was upset she would pet the soft hair between his ears to soothe him, and she had often wondered if Peter's blonde hair would feel the same. So she could't be blamed if she was using the haircut as an opportunity to surreptitiously run her fingers through his curls. They were indeed very soft, and she was sure her "petting" was going unnoticed until Peter started to giggle.

She was smoothing some hair out her way as she cut above his ear when he jumped and started keening as if in pain.

The scissors clattered to the floor.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" she shouted as she frantically searched his ear for the cut. There wasn't any blood. Just as she was about to ask what the hell he was shouting about, she heard a giggle.

"You idiot," she smacked his shoulder again. "I thought I cut you!"

"Sorry," he didn't sound sorry. He was still laughing. "I can't help it, I'm ticklish!"

"Ya don't say, Quill."

They both jumped, and Gamora whirled around to find Rocket casually leaning against the door with a malicious grin on his face.

"Hey, man," said Peter nervously. Gamora watched in fascinated amusement as the pink pigment usually present on Peter's skin drained away.

"You know I was just kidding about the ticklish thing, right?" he continued after a moment.

Gamora snorted. Nice try.

"Whatever you say, Star-dork. I just came down to tell you that we're an hour out from Xandar. I'll let you ladies get back to your spa day," he said as he walked away snickering.

Gamora smirked as she watched him go. When she turned back to Peter, he was glaring at her.

"How could you betray me like that?"

This time, she smacked him upside the head.

—

Peter started humming under his breath. After a few minutes, the humming had escalated into full blown singing. At first, Gamora had considered scolding him for ruining her concentration, but the melody, while loud, was pleasant, and she found she didn't really want him to stop. Eventually, she began swaying to the rhythms of the songs, and when he started singing the one about exotic alcohol, she couldn't resist joining in.

If you like Pina Coladas and getting caught in the rain

If you're not into yoga, if you have half a brain

If you like making love at midnight, in the dunes on the cape

Then I'm the love that you've look for, write to me and escape

—

After nearly an hour of snipping, and cutting, and nit-picking, most of the curly mess that had been on Peter's head was on the floor. What remained was a neat style that even the great Kevin Bacon himself would be proud to wear. Needless to say, Gamora was very pleased.

"I am done," she announced triumphantly.

"Awesome!" Peter sounded just as excited. He handed her the electric razor over his shoulder.

She took it, and began studying it intently.

"The switch is on the—" the razor buzzed to life, "You got it," Peter continued, "Now all that's left is to clean up my neck. Hold the blade parallel to the skin and try to make a straight line across here," he traced his finger in a line along the base of his skull. "Think you can handle that?"

"Of course I can," she grumbled, pretending to be offended. "I'm hurt, Peter, I really am."

"Ha ha." Peter grunted as she not so gently pushed his head.

"Look down and sit still," she said as she carefully began her task. Focussing so intently that she was biting her lip, she stared at her work unblinkingly. She was so concentrated on keeping her hand from slipping that she didn't notice Peter begin to squirm in his seat.

On her final pass with the razor, she accidentally brushed the nape of his neck and he jerked violently.

Peter was giggling uncontrollably, but Gamora didn't slap him. She was frozen with her hand over her mouth and her eyes wide with horror. Peter's fit of giggles had caused the razor to go much further than she had intended. In fact, it had carved a path all the way up the back of his head.

"Are you done?" he asked once he'd finally calmed down.

"Yes," Gamora squeaked.

"Are you ok?" He started to turn around, and Gamora instantly snapped out of her daze.

"Everything is fine," she said, forcing her face into a wooden smile. "I was overcome with emotion when I saw how wonderful you hair looks." She felt like slapping herself. That was quite possibly the most idiotic lie of all time.

Naturally, Peter looked very confused. She could practically see the gears in his brain grinding to a halt. In a few seconds, he would realize how ridiculous what she had said was and figure out what she had done. After what felt like an eternity, understanding dawned on his face. So much for having Peter's trust.

"It really looks that good?" Now it was Gamora's mind that ground to a halt. What? Before she could even think, she found herself nodding enthusiastically.

"Wow," he said with a dopey grin on his face. "Thanks!"

"You're welcome," she mumbled before excusing herself and quickly making her way to her bunk. Once her door was locked and she was sprawled out on her bed, she got her own case of the giggles.

—

The short excitement-free stent that Gamora had been enjoying so much ended as soon as they landed on Xandar.

—

Some Kree terrorists had disguised themselves as peace ambassadors and were wreaking havoc outside of the Nova Corps headquarters. How Nova had mistaken more than one-hundred heavily armed warriors for ambassadors was beyond Peter. All he knew was that when he and his fellow Guardian's charged into the fray, the chaos definitely escalated.

Peter and Rocket were side by side in front of the Nova Corps' main entrance firing endlessly into the Kree's dwindling ranks and providing cover for Nova's troops. Their position seemed to be the terrorist's main target, and they seemed to be coming from every direction. That wasn't too much of a problem, though. Groot was herding civilians away from the fighting, and occasionally, he would throw a Kree or two into Peter and Rocket's line of fire. Out of the corner of his eye, Peter caught a glimpse of Gamora slicing her way through the advancing left flank. To his right, he could clearly see Drax mowing down every goon he could get his gigantic hands or knives on. At one point, Peter was pretty sure he say the maniac drop kick a fully grown man.

The battle didn't last very long. It took even less time for the Xandarian press to show up and start clamoring for an interview with the legendary Guardian's of the Galaxy. Lucky for them, Peter was more than willing to give it to them.

It was late in the evening by the time the Guardians finally met with Nova Prime and received the mission briefing they had come for in the first place. She expressed her intense gratitude for their "heroic actions," but she didn't hesitate to let them know how disappointed she was that there hadn't been a single terrorist left alive for questioning. Peter was pretty sure that wasn't their problem, but when he opened his mouth to say so, Gamora kicked him in the shin.

Nova Prime then graciously offered them accommodations for the night in one of Xandar's fanciest hotels, and the Guardians accepted the invitation a little less graciously.

The next day, they all woke up in the late afternoon, and, after a quick meal, sluggishly made their way back to the Milano.

Peter was nodding off while he waited for Rocket to fix something (he either didn't remember or didm't care what it was) so they could take off.

"Friend Peter!" Drax bellowed cheerfully.

Peter fell off the crate he had been lounging on.

"What the—" Peter quickly cut himself off. There were three young kids trailing behind the tattooed giant. "Um, what's with the kids, Drax." They really couldn't afford anymore kidnapping charges, accidental or not.

"Though these children are not machines built to circulate air, they claim to be your "fans" and they seem to have an ernest desire to meet you," Drax said as he gestured for the kids to approach Peter, who was suddenly very awake.

"Hey kids! Sorry about my friend here, he can be kind of an idiot."

—

When Peter finally boarded the Milano, he was very confused.

"What happened, Quill?" Rocket smirked up at him from where he sat on the floor surrounded by gun parts. "Did your little flunkies figure out you were just a moron with a dumb nickname?"

"I am Groot," Groot murmured. The disapproving frown on his wooden face was more adorable than intimidating.

"What? It's true," Rocket shot back. "You're just being a suck-up."

"What is troubling you, Peter?" Drax, who was sitting at the galley table with Gamora, asked thoughtfully. "Were your fans unsatisfactory?"

"No," Peter sat down next to Gamora. "They were good kids. They thought I was really cool," he added pointedly, but Rocket had gone back to his tinkering and ignored the comment.

"Why would your temperature—"

"It's an expression, Drax," Peter grumbled. He was pretty sure he starting to get a headache. "Anyway," he continued, pinching the bridge of his nose, "What kind of weirded me out were their haircuts."

"Their haircuts?" asked Gamora. She suddenly looked very uncomfortable.

"Yes, their haircuts." This was becoming an extremely irritating conversation.

"What about their haircuts was so weird?" Rocket, who was apparently done ignoring Peter, asked skeptically.

"They looked normal enough form the front, but in the back, they all had this weird line shaved right up the back of their heads."

Gamora abruptly got up and left the room.

Drax picked at blood under his nails with a bored look on his face.

Rocket stared at Peter incredulously.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" Peter snapped, "I haven't seen anyone on Xandar, hell, I haven't seen anyone anywhere with that weird haircut before! Is that so hard to believe?"

"The haircut where there's a line shaved right up the back?" Rocket asked, still making that stupid face.

"Yes! That haircut!"

"You mean like your haircut?"

A/N:

I really hope you enjoyed the story! I'd love to hear your thoughts if you feel so inclined to share them :)
The idea for the botched haircut came from an episode of the Big Bang Theory were Sheldon lets Penny cut his hair, she accidentally tickles him, and he ends up with a bald spot on the back of his head. Penny, of course, doesn't say anything.
Thanks for reading!