AUTHOR'S NOTE

I watched Marvel's Guardians of the Galaxy a few weeks back. I want to hug Stan Lee. I also want to slap myself for not knowing about this amazing part of Marvel sooner- not that I knew much about Marvel to begin with.

The only way I am associated to Marvel, Stan Lee, Guardians of The Galaxy and Rocket Raccoon's badassery is through my hyperactive imagination.

Mixtapes

by MadameHappy

Rocket rummaged around the Milano's pile of accumulated junk, tossing away pieces as he went. "Groot, come on. D'you find it yet?"

Groot hummed out a negative, his vine-like tendrils scouring the other pile of junk that sat next to the one Rocket was rummaging through. Groot peered at every object his tendrils gripped, flinging them away when it turned out to be useless.

"Come on, pick up the pace. Quill'l throw himself out the ship if we don't fix it." God knows Rocket didn't want to see what the Star-Lord looked like when maskless and hovering in space. He didn't need a reminder of last time.

Yes, fine. Rocket cared. Big deal.

"I am Groot!" Groot announced, triumphantly procuring a bunch of old parts and several reels of tape.

Rocket abandoned his pile, letting out a feral grin when Groot let the objects fall into his hands. "Knew that collecting from the junkyard had its uses." Rocket spread out the parts on his work bench. The mixtape player lay in pieces. "Alright you big lug, pass me the screwdriver."

Peter was sulking on the cockpit. At least, that's what everyone was telling him. He wasn't sulking. And if he was (he wasn't) he had every right to sulk.

If it was the mixtape player that broke, it wouldn't have been much of a problem. Peter knew how to fix them. The actual tapes, however, could easily become irreparable. When Peter dismantled the player and saw the casing bashed in, the tape tangled inside like a string, his heart froze.

What was he without his mixtape? He was Peter Quill without a mixtape, that was what he was! Bread without butter! A planet without a sun! Rocket without a gun!

When that stupid Egofesian punched him the wrong place and broke his mixtape player, with the tapes inside, into little fragile pieces, he returned the favor by breaking every single one of the guy's thirty ribs.

It didn't bring the tape back though, even if he knew every song by heart. It didn't bring his mother back.

Peter crushed his fifth can of soda and sighed, staring out to the thousands of stars painting a canvas of colour onto the void of space, not feeling any better than before. He heard steps coming up to the cockpit. He knew each of his team mate's footsteps by heart. Rocket's claws tapping up the steps. Groot's hard organic thuds. "If you're asking about the bomb parts, I'm not giving them to you."

"Aw, that's too bad. Guess that means I won't be giving this back either."

The sound of music- his music filled the silence of the cockpit, and Peter spun around his chair.

Rocket thrust the mixtape player onto his lap, Groot smiling secretly behind them.

It wasn't the same exact mixtape player, sure. It still had the transparent covering, but there were a set of speakers attached to the player, blasting out 'Cherrybomb' at its highest volume. It was even decorated. There were streaks of oranges, blues, violets, greens and yellows painted all around the casing. Groot's handiwork, probably. Rocket's art strayed more on the technological side.

When Peter looked up again, Rocket had his arms crossed. "S'got built in speakers, tape's been repaired. We managed to set the tape so it can play any song you want. Shit ton of work, but at least you're not sulking like an idiot."

Peter decided not to comment about the whole sulking thing and looked at the piece of paper Rocket had given him, displaying the numbers of each of the songs. How Rocket knew the names of all the songs was beyond him.

'Hooked on a Feeling' filled the air after a moment of button pressing. A slow grin spread on his face before he stood.

"Parts are on the top shelf," was all he said before he stalked off to his room to drown himself in the 80's. It wasn't a thank you, but it was enough.

Rocket snorted as the door closed behind him. He turned to Groot. "Glad that was over."

"I am Groot."

"Shut up, you overgrown dandelion. I just didn't want him to kill himself."

"I am Groot."

"Yeah yeah, fine, maybe I do care." Rocket mumbled, tilting his head to the side. "Happy?"

"I am Groot!"

Rocket rolled his eyes and smiled, despite himself. Groot reached out to take the bomb parts from the top shelf.

AUTHOR'S NOTE

I made up Egofesians. If they somehow exist, tell me what they are, would you?

This work is also available on ArchiveOfOurOwn under the same user. If you would like to leave your kudos, go ahead! :)

-Happy