Author's Note:

This is a prompt from the Roquill Fic Prompts tumblr. Rocket is really thin compared to raccoon standards. In earlier comics and such he was at a much healthier weight. I tried to portray that Rocket doesn't have an eating disorder, but it could probably be read that way anyway. No angst here, but there is brief mention of dark backstory things. A little language (but most of it is sci-fi swear equivalents) and one instance of mild innuendo. Oneshot. Pre-slash.

Rocket was tinkering on the floor of the Milano's common area when his nose picked up a blend of delicious scents. His stomach grumbled as if on cue. He made his way to the galley to find the others there, but that was not what got his attention. Laid out upon the table was a feast of a variety of foods.

"What's all this? Quill, is this another one of your stupid Terran holidays?" Rocket asked as he hopped onto a chair at the table.

"Rocket, Peter has brought something to our attention, and we are concerned," Gamora said firmly. "You do not eat properly."

"I am Groot," the tree said in agreement with a somewhat worried tone as he sat in the chair beside his best friend.

The small cyborg snorted and rolled his eyes. "I do fine."

"You are emaciated compared to your species, your fur is thin and lacks luster," Drax chimed in. Naturally, he considered himself an expert on such things, having eaten a -whatever Rocket was-.

"That's rich coming from you, baldy. You're tryin' to make me fat?" Despite his protests, the ringtail grabbed a plate and put a few things on it at random.

The tattooed mountain maintained a serious expression. "A statement cannot have wealth."

"Don't worry, it's not like Hansel and Gretel," Quill, the other self-proclaimed expert on Rocket's species, assured him. Not that it actually did any good. It only rose more questions.

His eye squinted and teeth bared in confusion. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"This is not just about putting on weight, it's about nutrition," Gamora reminded them as she folded her arms. "We know little about your physiology, and what Peter and Drax say about your species is hearsay. But I do know that living entirely on protein bars and half-eaten meals is not healthy for anyone."

Rocket suspected that the scientists had messed with his and the other experiments' metabolism. They wouldn't have wanted to waste money on properly feeding a project that was likely to die anyway. He just didn't get hungry very often. It wasn't like he ate the protein bars for the taste, they were bland and chalky. But they gave him energy and he was used to them, it was more out of habit than anything.

When it was just Groot and himself, the protein bars were really the only food he had regular access to. Cheap. Quick. Everywhere. Sure, if they made a decent bounty they would celebrate at some dingy bar, but the meal would inevitably be interrupted by a bar fight or having to dodge the law. Rocket never mentioned it, but being the only one of the pair that needed to eat at all probably didn't help. If things were tight or they were on a long mission, he would just go without.

Quill had a full plate in front of him and took a large bite of a drumstick, a leg of some roasted avian creature. "Mmm. Man, you gotta try this, it's great! Tastes like chicken."

"Terrans must have awful sense of taste if everything tastes like 'chicken.' I can't even count how many foods you've said that about." Rocket grabbed a leg and took a bite.

But Quill was right, it was delicious.

-Six months later-

Peter sat on the flight deck, watching Rocket fix the Milano's control panel.

He looked like a whole new raccoon. Rocket had put on quite a bit of weight, his once skinny form now pleasantly pudgy. The fur covering his body was now thick and glossy, which made him look heftier than he actually was. After getting Rocket to start eating better, Peter had made a habit of taking him out to try new food whenever they were planetside, discovering the local delicacies. Drax had taught the rest of the team how to cook. Well, they quickly learned to limit Groot to making things like sandwiches and salads so he wouldn't accidentally burn the food or himself. Once they even had a little competition to see whether Rocket, Peter, or Gamora was the better cook. The earthling won, and wouldn't let them forget it, ever.

The raccoon's eating habits weren't quite as healthy as Gamora would have liked, but she never brought it up. It was good to just see him eating real food regularly. Certain things were off-limits though; the team had all wordlessly promised to never speak of the chocolate incident.

Ever since Rocket started eating better, Peter noticed a change in the raccoon. He was still a rude, cynical asshole, but he seemed just a little friendlier, less standoffish. Happy in situations that didn't involve potential riches or delighting in the pain of others.

Rocket stopped his work and slumped into the chair, turning to face Peter. "What'cha starin' for? You're creeping me out."

He shrugged. "You just look so much better than when we met."

After a moment of silence, Rocket spoke up. "Yanno, I actually feel better. On the other hand, you really let yourself go, Pete."

It was true. Peter looked down at his own stomach. Gone were his legendary abs, replaced by a small gut he had developed. His shirt that used to hang loose currently clung tight to his body. With all the good food the team had been keeping around for Rocket, who could blame him? He was still just as athletic as ever.

"Come on Rocket, don't be like that." He smiled. "I just have more cushion for the pushin'."

The raccoon muttered something mostly inaudible under his breath.

"What?"

"I said thanks ya idiot!" Rocket looked down at the floor. "I'd still be eatin' those krutacking protein bars if it wasn't for you."

"I can't believe we all thought you actually liked those things. Gross." The weight of Rocket actually thanking him took a moment to hit. "You're totally welcome. Do I get a hug?"

"Just cause my fur is softer doesn't mean I'm a softy!"

"You hug Groot all the time. Don't even deny it."

Rocket made an exasperated groan. "Ugh, fine. I'll give ya a d'ast hug if it'll get you to shut up."

Peter picked up his friend out of the seat and pulled him into a tight embrace. He expected complaints but the raccoon said nothing. It was nice, the soft fur and the warmth from Rocket's body.

"Dude, you're so comfy. Can I hug you whenever?" the human said with a goofy smile.

The raccoon hissed. "Hug me without permission and you're dead. And leggo already, you're makin' it weird."

Still the same old Rocket.