Space Lovers~ Peter Quill

4. Moonage Daydream

Curled tightly into Peters side as we attempt to sleep, surrounded by chicken shít inmates; I listened to the rhythmic beating of his heart in his chest. The steady pounding and thumping calming as the scene of Peter being electrocuted replays over and over in my head.

Instinctively, I curl tighter into Peters side and hold him a little tighter. He's safe- as safe as you can be in a prison that is. He's alive, a little bruised, but here with me.

My mind betraying my futile attempt at sleep by comparing the similarity of my fathers death and Peter being hurt by that guard. Images of both of them being stabbed at the chest and both falling to their knees in front of me.

"What is it?" Peter whispers to me as he places a delicate kiss atop my messy nest of hair and wraps me tightly into both of his arms. Peter could be a dick sometimes- scrap that- Peter is a dick 98% of the time. But that small 2% is when he actually puts his inflated ego aside and takes care of me. Like the loving husband he is.

"It's easier if I show you," I whisper sadly. Peter never liked the manipulation over the mind my magic could have, but in this situation whilst stuck surrounded by sleeping criminals, it was easier to project my thoughts into his mind.

I placed a cool hand onto his forehead and showed him the memory of loosing my father, before comparing it to him falling to his knees as he was electrocuted earlier today. His form going rigid underneath me and his arms tightening around my body as he lives the memoirs through my eyes.

I had described my fathers death to Peter one afternoon, a few days after constant crying when I was first taken in by Yondu and his crew. But never before had I shown him. This was more intimate, watching a traumatic and vulnerable memory. But I trust Peter. Trust him with my life.

One of his hands moves from my shoulder to take up my hand that rests on his forehead gently. Giving it a reassuring squeeze before bring my hand to his lips her he places light kisses on my fingers. Moving my hand away so he can trace the Vegvisir tattoo on my wrist as he speaks.

"I'm never going anywhere, Freya," he promises as I lift my head slightly to look into his eyes. Looking for some form of lie or doubt. Luckily, I find none,

"I can't promise to stay out of trouble. Hell, that just seems to find me everywhere I go. But I'll try my hardest to be careful, for you." He places another kiss on my head, "if it means I get more cuddles, I could get into more trouble more often-"

I pinch his side playfully.

"Shut up Star-Prick," I huff as we both settle back down to try and get some sleep. Neither of us having managed earlier.

"Star-Lord, Princess," he groans. Our moment ruined by the noises of scuffling feet and grunting from the open hallway outside the dark sleeping quarters.

"Take her down to the showers, it'll be easier to clean up the blood down there." I heard a guard grunt, followed by a familiar scream of protest from Gamora.

Both Peter and myself lifting our heads to watch as they march her past the sleeping quarters,like a lamb off to the slaughter house with a knife at her exposed throat. I guess when Rocket said she wouldn't last the night he meant it quite literally.

Looking at each other, both of us decide to do something about the murder that is about to occur along the corridor. Pushing stray arms of other inmates that had landed over our waist as they slept, we quietly got to our feet and crept over the large mounds of sleeping men.

"Quill, where you going?" I heard a very sleepy Rocket question from behind us. Pausing at the doorway, I give a small look towards the small animal. His fur squished and matted form his previous sleeping position, making him look so cute.