The only warning I could think to say is that Gamora uses Peter's Walkman and headphones as a bartering tool to get him to talk, and I didn't really wanna write it that way because it seemed cruel for her to use one of his most prized possessions against him like that, but I honestly don't think there was any other way for this conversation to happen unless she blackmailed him, and considering the fact that she is (mostly) unaware of the Walkman's and headphones' significance she wouldn't feel as bad about it as she probably would've otherwise. Aside from that, there isn't much else that should be warned. Enjoy.

—

When he woke up the next morning it was to an aching body and an empty bed. Well, an almost empty bed. Peter woke gradually, squeezing his eyes shut when he realized what was happening because he didn't want to wake up yet because he was a child. He'd been curled up into a tight little ball with a single blanket perched over him almost delicately, and he'd rolled onto his back, rubbing at his too-dry eyes and too-dry face with clumsy hands attached to heavy arms. His memories were muddled, so he didn't know exactly why he hurt all over, but his lack of nausea meant he probably didn't have a hangover, so he had no idea what was wrong. Did he have a fever? He couldn't tell, and he didn't feel sick, even though his nose was stuffed all to hell.

Peter gradually pushed himself up into an upright sitting position with a groan, stretching his arms high up above his head and sighing when the tension released from his joints with a crack, nearly popping his jaw out of his socket when he yawned. He wiped the crust out of his eyes before tiredly blinking them open, only to have them focus in on the tree creature sitting at the foot of the bed, watching him closely, flower buds starting to sprout up on his shoulders and collarbone. He blinked again, just to make sure Groot was actually there and his brain wasn't playing tricks on him, before his expression turned quizzical. "Uhhh… Groot?" When Groot nodded to let him know he was listening, he continued, "What are you doing in my room?"

Groot cocked his head curiously and then shook it to say "no", and Peter furrowed his brow at him. "No? No what?"

"I am Groot," Groot said, motioning to the rest of the room, and when Peter followed his movement to see what on earth he was talking about, he found that he was not, in fact, in his room. He didn't know whose room it was, all he knew was that it wasn't his, because his was messy and covered in spare clothes and had a bunch of trinkets on shelves and dressers and had posters lining the walls. This room was decidedly barren, almost impeccably clean – everything that was the opposite of his own.

"Ohhh-kay," he said under his breath, turning back to Groot, trying to process why he wasn't asleep in his bed like he was supposed to be. He definitely remembered going to bed yesterday. And speaking of which, where were his headphones? And why was Groot staring at him like –

Oh.

Oh, yeah.

Now he remembered.

Peter felt his face heat up with embarrassment and mortification and knew he was as red as a tomato, and grimaced, putting his head in his hands and shaking it to try to clear his thoughts. Shit. Shit shit shit. He'd broken down in front of the team. He'd rambled and ranted about his insecurities to the team. He'd cried in front of the team. Shit. Goddammit. Goddammit. This was not how it was supposed to go. This was so, so far off base.

He sucked in a breath and let it out slowly before raising his head again to look back at Groot. The tree creature looked both pleased and apologetic that he was awake, but then he reached up and plucked what looked like a now mature white tulip from his shoulder, where a nest of other flowers then began to recede and grow smaller, before handing it to him. Peter sent him a puzzled look before taking the flower with a degree of hesitance and bringing it to his nose to smell. It smelled good, even if Peter couldn't help letting out a little sigh. It was a nice gesture, but he was still reeling from the fact that he'd let his guard down that much last night and let all of them see him like that. He hadn't let anyone see him like that for a long, long time – since Yondu first abducted him, at least.

"Thanks, Groot," he said, because Groot had grown it himself just for him, likely as an apology for getting him into this mess, and it would be rude not to thank him. Groot nodded again and gave him one of his little smiles, and Peter shot him a strained one back before asking, "Where are the others?" Probably booked it out of there as fast as possible to avoid any too-personal mushy human feelings before he woke up. He didn't blame them.

Groot made a humming-grunting noise before he stood from the bed, his body creaking all the while (and Peter had the immediate guilty thought that Groot probably hadn't moved since he'd sat down the night before, which both flattered and concerned him because that couldn't be healthy). He then reached out one of his hands to Peter, and he looked at it before grabbing it and letting him help him off the bed. His legs were stiff and uncooperative, and Groot looked like he wanted to pick him up and carry him when his knees almost buckled under his weight, but Peter was not going to be picked up or carried again for a good long while. Drax had a complex, he was sure of it.

So, instead of having Groot be his usual over-compassionate self, Peter quickly got control of his legs, stuck his flower behind his ear, and let himself be towed out of the room by the giant, lumbering tree creature, who tugged him over to the ladder that led up to the cockpit. It wasn't hard to deduce that that was where the rest of the team was; Peter could hear their voices whisper-shouting as soon as they left the room. But he sure as hell didn't know why they were arguing about breakfast. They'd picked up enough food supplies at the last pit stop they'd camped at, he was sure they didn't need any more for at least the next week. No matter how much Drax ate.

Groot had to let go of his hand to do get into the cockpit, and he looked strangely despondent at having to, but he climbed up the ladder nonetheless and Peter followed for lack of anything better to do. He didn't wanna get dressed to leave the ship because he was positive he looked like death warmed up, but he was starving and could feel his stomach making angry rumbles about it, so maybe he could find out why the rest of the team was arguing about breakfast before finding something to eat himself. He could totally go for a banana-nut muffin right now. Maybe the colony had some. That would be awesome.

Rocket, Gamora, and Drax all went on whisper-shouting at each other, but the whole "whisper" part in no way detracted from how loudly they were bickering about whether Ingidan parshers, Lumedian gro'uts, or K'haracktan mebihks would be better, so Peter simply leaned against a nearby wall and crossed his arms over his midsection and waited, whereas Groot remained standing watching the three argue with amused eyes. They only stopped after Gamora looked up from where she'd been glaring at the two of them and finally realized that they were no longer alone and lightly punched Rocket in the shoulder to alert him and Drax to their new guests. All three of them turned to look at them, and although Rocket let out a relieved sigh (likely because he now had Groot to back up his opinion), Gamora simply shot them a fake cheerful smile while Drax seemed concerned.

"Finally," the raccoon groaned, "What took you so long? I've been trying to convince these idiots that the parshers on this colony are worth the waiting lines, but they won't listen!"

"I am Groot," Groot offered in explanation, and Rocket just scoffed.

"Quill, you should still be asleep," Drax spoke up, interrupting the beginnings of Rocket's rant and shooting Peter a quizzical look.

Peter shrugged, then shrunk back against the wall when suddenly everyone was looking at him. "Hey, I'm not in control of when I do or don't wake up," he said, raising his hands defensively. I mean, sure, he was still a little groggy, and personally he would rather be curled up in his bunk hiding forever to keep from talking to the team for the rest of his life in order to avoid any more horrifying situations like last night, but that was unfortunately never going to happen and he needed to suck it up and be a man and there was no time like the present. "I think I just need some food, is all. I haven't eaten since lunch yesterday." As if on cue, his stomach let out a louder rumble, one that could be heard by more than just himself, and Peter set his hand on top of it as if that would calm it down.

"Well, what do you want?" Rocket asked, "We've only been arguing about it for the past half-hour."

Peter blinked, surprised. It had been a while since anyone had asked his opinion on something as inconsequential as breakfast. It was usually something along the lines of "which way should we go?" or "is your phaser still fully charged?" during battle, when adrenaline was paving the way and everyone was on high alert. Usually Rocket decided what their meals would be, if only because he knew which ones wouldn't go as bad as quickly.

To dodge the stares still pointed at him (that felt like they were seeing into him, and it was an uncomfortable feeling that left goosebumps down his spine), he gazed down at his socked feet, kicking at a random screw and watching it roll in a circle while he scratched at the back of his neck. "Pff, I dunno… a muffin? I could so go for some muffins right now, but the colony probably doesn't have – "

"Ah, that's where you're wrong, porcupine," Rocket interjected, looking smugly pleased with himself. "This colony is full of Terran products. Mostly dumb stuff, a few old-fashioned trinkets I've managed to scrounge up and put to good use, but there's a decent amount of food vendors, too. Why do you think I said this was where all the good pies were?"

Peter made a face at him. "Other planets have pie, too, Rocket."

"Well, yeah." He said it with an implied 'duh', which Peter huffed at. He wasn't stupid. Well, not that stupid. "But you don't exactly see other planets marketing on lemon meringue, do you?"

Apparently Peter was that stupid. Then again, he can't really be blamed for that, since he hadn't been listening all that intently when Rocket had been rambling on and on about the place the day before, and he hadn't gone with them so he hadn't seen the available varieties for himself. Didn't stop him from thinking it, though, night-time touchy-feely heart-to-heart or not. One breakdown session wasn't going to suddenly cure Peter of his rampant insecurities, and doing it in front of people, even if it was the team, sure as hell wasn't gonna make it any easier, either.

He scuffed his foot on the floor again and let out an irritated sniff. "Guess not."

"You guess right," Rocket said, hopping down from where he'd been perched on the headrest of the co-pilot's seat and walking over to Groot before climbing up to sit on his shoulder. "We are going to go get some muffins. You stay here and watch the twerp," he addressed Drax and Gamora, who exchanged looks at being ordered around by someone less than half their size.

Peter straightened up indignantly, glaring at the raccoon from where he was giving them all a smirk. "I am not a twerp!"

"You totally are," Rocket snickered, and then delivered two solid pats to the back of Groot's head. The tree creature took that as a sign to move, and he waved at them all before descending from the cockpit to exit the vehicle.

Scowling, Peter called down the shaft after them, "You'd better get me a banana-nut, you ass!" to which he heard a faint "yeah, yeah" in reply before they were too far away. Meanwhile, while his back was turned, Drax had decided it would be a great idea to pick him up without warning, again, and get Peter to yelp and flail, again. Well, making Peter start thrashing was evidently not his intention; his intention was apparently to hold Peter to his chest a good few inches off the ground and not move much afterward aside from turning to face Gamora, who was watching the interaction with not-very-well-disguised amusement in her eyes. Peter could see her lips straining to hold back a smile. Peter felt betrayed, and he scowled some more, kicking fruitlessly in an attempt to dislodge Drax's grip. It was, of course, pointless, but he felt better about struggling than he did about just letting it happen, which he really wanted to do. He was tired and grumpy and still really, really humiliated and just wanted to hide under a rock for a while. Maybe eat his muffin when Rocket got back but that was it.

So he settled on crossing his arms and pouting like a child, even though right afterward he stated, "I am not a child."

"I understand this," Drax said, "However, the small being said to watch you, and the best way to accomplish this is to keep you as close as possible."

Peter rolled his eyes; great, even the man who took everything literally had started viewing him and the word 'twerp' as synonymous. Fantastic.

And then Drax sat down in the co-pilot's seat and set him in his lap for the second time in as many days, which made Peter let out a frustrated grunt and scowl as a result, crossing his arms and pouting while he grumbled under his breath about over-protective blue men. Drax just seemed to exude amusement at Peter's turmoil, because Drax was a dick. Double fantastic.

This was why Gamora was able to vanish from the cockpit and return several long seconds later without Peter ever noticing she was gone until she shoved his Walkman and headphones in his face. Peter had lurched back slightly at the sudden appearance of an object less than an inch from his face, but when he realized it was his babies he tried to snatch them from Gamora's hands – "tried" being the operative word. She jerked them away from him before he could get his hands on them, and Drax just held him back when Peter locked his jaw and tried to reach for it again, more desperately this time, straining ineffectively against Drax's hold. Gamora just shot him a look.

"Peter," she said, and her voice sounded just like it did when she had been trying to talk him down last night, and it made him stiffen up. "We need to talk about what happened." Dammit.

"No we don't," he muttered, sending her a glare that was icier than he thought he could make it.

She was, of course, unfazed, and incredibly unimpressed. "Yes, we do. I don't know how much you remember –"

"I remember enough," Peter snapped.

"Then this should be easy," she said smoothly, calmly ignoring the way Peter was seething at having to bring up this shit again. It was hard enough the first time. If he had to go through this all over again he was going to scream. He decided to bluntly stare at his feet in an attempt to deliberately annoy her. "To think yourself not worth our affection is cruel and unnecessary."

Peter blinked; he did not think that was how this conversation was going to go. He thought she (and maybe Drax) was going to reprimand him for letting himself show weakness and for crying and for essentially being a gross mushy human with gross mushy human feelings. Apparently not.

Gamora, oblivious to Peter's inner confusion, continued, "We are your friends, and you are ours. It is to my understanding that friends trust one another enough to tell them when they are upset in order to seek reassurance." Then her brow knitted, more bemused than irritated. "Am I wrong?"

Oh. Right. Gamora had never had friends before. Shit. She was trying to give an uplifting, comforting speech without having any personal experience to draw from. Shit. Now Peter felt kinda bad.

Whatever, he can totally fix this. "Uh, no? That's definitely how friendships work. Is it? It is on earth, at least, plus I think the whole 'we saved the galaxy together and none of us died' thing makes us all total besties. I think." That went well. Well, at least now he knew he sure as hell couldn't claim to be the epitome of knowledge for healthy friendships. Not that he ever would've claimed that anyway.

Then Drax spoke up; "If this is true, then you should feel no qualms about talking with us about your insecurities. To come back to the ship and find you in a fit of despair was devastating. I can only assume that our tree companion felt even worse. To hear why you were so distraught and then embrace you while you wept was incredibly distressing."

Oh, great, now Peter felt bad. He opened his mouth to explain himself, or to offer a bullshit excuse (as he usually did), but just shut it again and sighed instead. "Look, it's not like I meant to worry you. It's just… I've kind of had a – shitty life, okay? It's only just recently gotten better, and I guess it's just taking me a while to get used to the fact that I'm living with people who won't kill me if I fuck up anymore. Plus, I mean" – he did a little self-deprecating laugh here – "all of you are so awesome and talented, and I'm just the flimsy human who saved the galaxy by trying to have a dance-off with the bad guy. I mean, who does that? My stupid ass, that's who –"

"You are not stupid," Gamora interjected, surprisingly fierce in her words. "The fact that you even came up with an idea to distract Ronan is impressive. You gave us the time we needed to remove the Infinity Stone from his hammer. That is not stupid, that is ingenious."

Peter snorted. "Yeah, ingenious."

"That is what we are trying to tell you, Peter," Gamora said, splaying her hands. "What you confessed last night – it was horrifying to think you felt this way. Without you, we, Xandar – the galaxy – we would all be dead. We would be dead without you. You saved billions of lives, and to discover that you saw yourself as useless and not worth our friendship left a bitter taste in all of our mouths." While Peter processed all that she had said – the firmness of her voice, the sureness that she was right, that the reassurance wasn't just sugar-coated to make him feel better and she was actually telling the truth – she gave him a slightly self-conscious smirk. "Honestly, that was why we were arguing about breakfast this morning. All of us wanted to buy something from the colony to make you feel better, but the three of us couldn't decide which you would like best."

"I still remain firm that the K'haracktan mebihks would have been the best choice," Drax said, and then addressed Peter directly; "They are very sweet, similar to what I've been told Terran cinnamon rolls taste like, and I have no doubt that you would have been exceptionally pleased with them, Quill."

Gamora just rolled her eyes. "It's why Rocket asked what you wanted," she explained, even though Peter was still a little stunned silent after processing her earlier words. "He knew he was losing the argument. Asking you in person was the simplest solution to keep him from losing." She then held out his Walkman and headphones and offered him an apologetic smile when Peter snatched them out of her hands and hugged them close to his chest, murmuring under his breath about how he was never gonna let anyone take them away from him ever again (even though, technically, he had kinda-sorta accidentally left them in his bunk when Drax had kidnapped him, but still). He knew Gamora and Drax had exchanged those pointed looks they tended to exchange with each other over his head, like they were connected over wavelength or something.

Whatever. He had his Walkman and his headphones back. Except that when he settled the headphones over his ears and pressed the Walkman's On/Off switch, he found it already was on, despite the fact that nothing was coming out. Suddenly petrified with the thought that it may finally have croaked after over twenty-five years of hard work, he slapped it lightly and then shook it – before remembering he'd left it in his room the entirety of last night, still on, with the volume at the highest setting. His shoulders slumped with relief; it just needed a new pair of batteries. Luckily he had a whole pack… somewhere.

Peter looked up at Gamora, who was looking back at him with a raised eyebrow, and stuck out his lower lip and batted his eyelids to turn on the charm as he removed his headphones and stretched his arms back towards Gamora. "The batteries died. Can you get me new ones?" He made the puppy-eyes extra wide for better effect. "Pretty please?"

Gamora rolled her eyes (with what Peter thought was fond exasperation) before taking the offered items with the utmost care and moving over to where the extra batteries were apparently kept. How she knew where they were and Peter didn't was something he didn't wanna think about, so instead he focused in on Drax when he asked, "How can a word be aesthetically pleasing?" and launched into a long-winded explanation as to why it wasn't literal and "Drax for the love of god words can't be pretty this is the third time we've had to tell you this" until Gamora returned, which was when she joined in on the discussion until Rocket and Groot returned with the grub, which is when they all decided to stop bickering and eat the fabulous, fabulous banana-nut muffins Rocket had gotten for him ("and they were the last ones so you better savor them, porcupine"). Literally though – these muffins? Incredible. He ate like half of them all by himself, which is why he supposed Rocket had also gotten chocolate-chip, blueberry, and oatmeal-raisin. All five of them ate like horses. He was half-sure Drax had four stomachs with how often he could stuff his face.

And Peter, while he watched his friends – his friends – eat Terran breakfast snacks with various amounts of zeal, knew that his issues sure as hell weren't solved, but for the first time in a long while, he felt content.