strangetrip | [Closed to Rocket] Rocket, man

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[Closed to Rocket] Rocket, man

Peter Parker stood outside the door to his neighbors room, took a breath, and then knocked.

Alec's backpack was gone when he finally went back up to their room and Peter knew from their last fight exactly what that meant.

The only advantage he had over then was that now he had a neighbor. When Alec was angry, most of the time he made noise. If that was the case, Rocket might have seen something -- heard something that would give some idea where he had gone or when he had gone there.

And Peter knew Alec was angry. Alec was upset even before he said that really terrible thing. All Peter could hope for was that he could find him and apologize like he should have to begin with.

Peter attempts to pull together a smile before Rocket answers the door. If he answers the door.

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Rocket had been curled up on his bed, drowsing, when the knock at the door sounded. He was instantly awake, because sleeping through sudden noises wasn't good for survival. Also not good for survival was answering a door without knowing who was there, so he dragged a chair over to the door so he could stand on it and look through the peephole. (On tiptoes, fucking humie furniture.)

Ah, the Peter kid. No threat, and he was favorably disposed to the kid as the base reason he had a new grudge project to enjoy. Rocket hopped off the chair and opened the door. "What's up, kid?"

"Uh," Peter begins uncertainly. "My roommate's gone."

The words hang in the air there for a second because Peter's not entirely sure what to say next.

"About this height," he says, raising a hand to the appropriate height. "Green eyes, brown-blonde hair. I think he was probably mad, so he might have made some noise."

Peter presses his lips together.

"Did you hear him?" he asks hopefully. "Or see him? I mean, he probably just went in the direction of the stairs --" Which probably wouldn't give them much of an idea of where he was headed to, since the stairs led to any number of places. "-- but, I just thought, you know, maybe you knew something."

"Oh, I met him. He took off." With a bag, which was why Rocket hadn't taken the opportunity to start messing with his stuff. It would only get Peter 'til Moron Man cooled off. "After punchin' Quill in the face and venting a lot of stupid and control issues everywhere." And saying flat-out that Rocket didn't count as a person, which signed his eventual death warrant, but wasn't getting mentioned to Peter. "So I'm good with him fucking off and didn't pay attention after."

"Wait, what?"

Peter's head isn't processing this properly. Alec left their fight, then went upstairs to punch Quill?

If he were so mad at him, why didn't he just punch him?

A moment after he asks himself the question, he knows the answer. The last time Alec hit him, he felt bad afterwards and left the room, just like he did now.

Hitting a stranger probably came far easier to Alec than punching him.

Peter's eyebrows furrow with worry. "Is Mr. Star-Lord all right?"

Mr. Star-lord? If it hadn't been as thoroughly stupid, Rocket might have started to see Alec's point.

But he didn't. Because stupid. "Oh, yeah, it's just a broken nose. It'll heal up fine." And if Quill freaked out too bad, Rocket would find Pike and see what her terms were like. If she had any. He still wasn't sure about the currency or economy of this place. It'd take more than one day. "Plus he's got a punchable face, can't be the first time it's happened."

Peter does not seem entirely convinced by Rocket's assurances.

"I'm sorry," he says. "He just gets angry sometimes, and --"

Peter swallows, but doesn't finish that sentence. Instead, he takes it elsewhere:

"Did he -- Did he say anything?"

"Lots, but it ain't your problem." Rocket flicked an ear. "Why?"

"We got into a fight before he left," Peter says. "He was pretty angry and I thought --"

Peter looks down and shoves his hands into the pockets of his hoodie. Not the old one from back home, but the Madonna Inn one he picked up from the shop when he gave that one to Liz.

"-- maybe I was the reason he hit Mr. Star-Lord."

"Oh, for fuck's sake." Rocket bared his teeth, then stepped back from the doorway. "Get in here, dummy, I'm sick of the hallway."

Peter follows Rocket inside and standards awkwardly in a vacant part of the room. He doesn't know if he should sit or stand and he doesn't want to assume anything until he knows Rocket better.

He can't believe he'd talked Alec up earlier and Alec just ran in and punched Quill in front of Rocket. No wonder Rocket thought he was a dummy.

Rocket kicked the door shut. It made him feel a little better. "Okay, first thing. Lesson one or whatever shit. You don't control other people. When somebody else does something, that's on them. They chose, they did the thing, and if you're the excuse then it maybe sucks for you but you didn't choose or do. Call it the difference between takin' responsibility and admittin' fault, if you wanna get sappy about it. You got that?"

For a moment, Peter doesn't say anything while he processes what Rocket says. Peter is surprised to discover it makes sense to him. Lately, it feels like so little does.

Peter nods solemnly.

"Got it," he says.

"Okay. Good." The kid was actually listening! And thinking! You had to feel bad for the poor sucker who listened to Rocket of all people, but... well, Rocket was still pretty sure he was right. "So okay. Alec's mad, near as I could tell, because you were happy to hear about whatever Avengers and Thanos shit in Quill's now which is your not yet, an' that's made of a buncha smaller reasons I don't even wanna pick out except he thinks you're definitely gonna die, so since you aren't thinkin' that, you're bein' dismissive or think you're invincible or whatever stupid bullshit." And when you drilled down it seemed to Rocket that there was also an element of 'Alec's pretty sure that Peter can't actually handle himself' but if the kid didn't see it, he was going to for once take the road closer to the high road than not.

Rocket hopped back on his bed and sat down. If Peter wanted to sit, that was fine, but it didn't occur to him to make an invitation. "So Alec decided Quill was feedin' your 'delusions' an' that got Quill a punch in the face. Me, I don't think so and told him so at fuckin' length."

Edited 2018-05-18 04:56 (UTC)

Peter runs a hand through his hair. Rocket's not telling him he didn't suspect, but it's still infuriating.

"They aren't delusions," Peter insists, though there's no reason why he should have to explain himself to Rocket, who has already admitted to being on his side already.

And because Rocket seems to be in the "in" with regards to his no-longer-so-secret identity, he skips over the I'm Spider-Man pleasantries and dives headfirst into providing his new neighbor with the intimate details of his personal life.

"Everyone is always treating me like I don't know anything about what I do," Peter says. "I've been doing the Spider-Man thing for years now. But whenever anyone looks at me, they don't see Spider-Man. They just see some kid."

He knows that Alec insisted that it was his attitude -- not his age -- that caused people to question his capability, but it wasn't that. Alec just didn't understand, even though he thought he did.

Rocket spread his arms in a 'look at me' kind of way. Because yeah - people saw a cute little animal, or some weird thing they didn't have to take seriously. Until he made them, applied gunfire, explosions, and violence to the problem. And then they saw a terrifying little monster thing, which was a little better and usually the best he could do. (Quill and Groot were the only ones who'd ever seen him right, from the start, until Gotham.)

"I been doin' my thing all my life, kid." Most of it, anyway. The parts that weren't the labs or the fuzzy indistinct blob of nonsentience before that. "It ain't a deathwish, it's just the only way I can go an' still be someone who likes livin'. So I figured we're the same, there."

Peter watches as Rocket spreads out his arms and suddenly feels a tinge of guilt. As much as he hates the way that people treat him now, there's a chance that once he's older, he won't have to deal with this anymore.

Rocket doesn't have that advantage. It felt stupid to whine about it now, but it was also nice to speak with someone who could relate. Someone who didn't just tell him it was his attitude that needed adjusting when Peter was sure that all that needed to change was his age.

Peter shifts his weight from one leg to another, standing awkward and gawky in the way that only teenage boys can. He pulls a hand out of one of his hoodie pockets and scratches his other elbow.

"How do you -- how do you get them to take you seriously?"

"Usually I start killing an' don't stop 'til the survivors shut up an' fall in line." It was not a joke. "After a while, word got around enough so's I could threaten and get the same effect, but I still did body-count reminders sometimes. Won't work here, though. I'll have to find a new angle. Won't work for you either, we're not that much the same."

Peter doesn't know whether or not to take it as a joke, but given Rocket's earlier reaction in the lobby, he tends to suspect that Rocket isn't joking.

"Yeah," Peter says. "No. Killing people -- it's not really my thing, you know?"

This was probably obvious to Rocket from the get-go.

"Yeah, it's a specialized thing." Rocket's love of murder wasn't necessarily evangelical. He didn't need company, even if company was sometimes fun, and having a friend who could look and be sweet and innocent was useful. Groot had been good for that, everybody liked Groot.

"What are you going to do differently here?" Peter asks, shoving his hand back into his pocket.

Since killing was off the table for Rocket now, too.

"Dunno yet. I'll figure somethin' out." It wasn't entirely true, because he already had a few revenge plots brewing for Alec. It was a pity there were no fake limbs anywhere for him to steal.

Peter was hoping to borrow one of Rocket's ideas. Obviously that wasn't going to happen.

"Do you have a second lesson?" he asks instead.

"Shit, I didn't plan a series. I just say stuff." Rocket's ears flattened briefly. This was the danger of earnest kids, clearly - you imply you have more than one life lesson and they believe you. "I guess prob'ly somethin' like 'you do you'. People're always going to say stupid shit about what's possible. But if it's you, do it anyway. An' on the flip side, if it ain't you? It's not a bad thing if you hard pass." Obvious, but sometimes humies needed to be told obvious things. Like it wasn't real unless somebody outside their heads said it.

Peter kind of wishes he had a notebook to write this down, but he doesn't, so he repeats a few times inside his head instead.

"Okay," he says. "And -- I'm sorry about Alec. He was mad at me. He shouldn't have taken it out on Mr. Star-Lord."

Peter glances at the door. "If you see him, can you let me know? I'm going to leave a note just in case he shows up while I'm out."

"Okay, seriously, lesson three: cut out the Mister shit. Or at least go with 'Mr. Quill'. You do realize absolutely nobody calls him that stupid made-up name, right? He keeps tryin'ta make it happen an' it's just... it's hilarious and kinda sad." Rocket followed the kid's look to the door, then flicked one ear. "Eh. Sure, shouldn't be a problem." Because, of course, if Rocket saw him, ultimately probably a lot of people were going to know about it. Peter might well be one of them!

Peter is a little disappointed that Rocket, too, doesn't have a made-up name, but Rocket's pretty closed to be a made-up name without actually being one.

"Thank you," Peter says solemnly. He presses his lips together and then gives Rocket a smile. "I'm gonna go, but if you need anything, I'll --"

Peter's about to tell Rocket that he'll be in his own room, but he knows he won't be.

"-- I'll be at my girlfriend's room, Room 189. It's downstairs," he says.

"I promise not to set your room on fire while you're gone." The other Guardians would, on hearing that, immediately start worrying about everything Rocket wasn't promising not to do to their room. Peter... probably didn't quite realize all of how Rocket worked, yet.

That draws a smile from Peter, who's convinced that Rocket's joking just to make him feel better. "Thank you," he says. "I'll see you around."

And with that, Peter heads back to his room to grab a few things before heading back to Liz's.

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[Closed to Rocket] Rocket, man

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