Fanfiction: Sleep Tight (Guardians of the Galaxy)
Title: "Sleep Tight"
Status: Complete
Fandom: Guardians of the Galaxy
Pairing(s)/Character(s): Peter Quill, Rocket Raccoon
Disclaimer: Copyright @ Marvel and Disney. No infringement intended.
Rating: K
Genre: Pre-Slash, friendship, some humor, H/C
Warning: none
Summary: Peter could have sworn he had hit the pillow by his lonesome...
Sleep Tight
Peter blinked twice, thrice. Squinted. Peered. Rubbed the gunk away. Nope, the image right in front of his puffy eyes didn't change, and the lights being powered down to conserve energy did nothing to obscure the fact that a small body was pressed against him where his bed had been decidedly empty before.
A furry one. Warm. Plushie soft. Wait -
Rocket was lying curled up right beside him, bushy tail sort of wrapped around himself, whiskers vibrating with every breath he took. He made little snuffling noises, nose twitching and ears perking up before falling flat.
Whacking his brain, Peter vaguely remembered movement, the memory foam dipping, and perhaps, before that, the faintest sound of thrashing and distress, distorted by the Milano's metal hull.
Nightmare. Implants. Comfort. Right, that matched up. Made perfect sense.
Peter blinked again, suddenly a lot more alert. He looked around, very, very, extremely carefully, for anything that might be used as a weapon. Against him, the breakable half-human, come tomorrow. Or worse, anything even remotely gun-shaped. That might explode.
Satisfied, spotting nothing of the sort, and still a little fuzzy in a sleep-deprived happy-go-lucky way, he settled back down with a huge yawn. He would, no doubt, pay with a scratched face, but waking with an armful of purring raccoon? So worth it.
The End
Status: Complete
Fandom: Guardians of the Galaxy
Pairing(s)/Character(s): Peter Quill, Rocket Raccoon
Disclaimer: Copyright @ Marvel and Disney. No infringement intended.
Rating: K
Genre: Pre-Slash, friendship, some humor, H/C
Warning: none
Summary: Peter could have sworn he had hit the pillow by his lonesome...
Sleep Tight
Peter blinked twice, thrice. Squinted. Peered. Rubbed the gunk away. Nope, the image right in front of his puffy eyes didn't change, and the lights being powered down to conserve energy did nothing to obscure the fact that a small body was pressed against him where his bed had been decidedly empty before.
A furry one. Warm. Plushie soft. Wait -
Rocket was lying curled up right beside him, bushy tail sort of wrapped around himself, whiskers vibrating with every breath he took. He made little snuffling noises, nose twitching and ears perking up before falling flat.
Whacking his brain, Peter vaguely remembered movement, the memory foam dipping, and perhaps, before that, the faintest sound of thrashing and distress, distorted by the Milano's metal hull.
Nightmare. Implants. Comfort. Right, that matched up. Made perfect sense.
Peter blinked again, suddenly a lot more alert. He looked around, very, very, extremely carefully, for anything that might be used as a weapon. Against him, the breakable half-human, come tomorrow. Or worse, anything even remotely gun-shaped. That might explode.
Satisfied, spotting nothing of the sort, and still a little fuzzy in a sleep-deprived happy-go-lucky way, he settled back down with a huge yawn. He would, no doubt, pay with a scratched face, but waking with an armful of purring raccoon? So worth it.
The End