Two days before
Peter Quill, Star Lord.
Legendary Outlaw.
Hero of the Galaxy.
Doing the oh-so fascinating pass-time of "What the fuck is the date"!
He was good at keeping track, he thinks. Once he remembered leap years and added them to his count.
If his math is right... They left Xandar sometime in august, they got imprisoned on the first of august, if he wasn't knocked out that long. He doesn't think it was multiple days.
He thinks it took... Three days? Xandarian days were longer... To come together as the Guardians of the Galaxy (best name ever), and save the entire UNIVERSE!!! Or, well, Xandar and the rest of the one galaxy.
Still cool as fuck.
He tries to think...
They'd been held up on Xandar... Recovering from the injuries and such.
He thinks it was like, a month.
Drax insisted they weren't ready to go, Quill thinks it was something to do with Rocket.
But whatever, that's the past.
He tries to do the math...
He thinks Xandarian days are 28 hours...
Their clocks went to 14, after all, before looping at noon.
Then he thinks about how many days they stayed... It was blurry for the first few, mourning Groot for a bit.
Then thinking about how he wanted them to move on and be a team and such.
Quill sighs, Groot was a good guy, he'd miss him.
Quill thinks, doing the math again. The whole galaxy ran off of the Xandarian calendar, so if he just looked up when they went to prison, he could look up when the current time was, and do the math that way.
Buuuuut they were pardoned.
And apparently they deleted the record of them being sent to prison.
And this REALLY wasn't the kind of thing he wanted to bother Nova Prime with.
So he'd figure it out on his own.
Sitting down in red flannel pajama pants.
Slightly messy white t-shirt. Used to be pure white, now it's a little yellow.
He had his tablet opened to the mode where it's got a holo-projected keyboard, and a screen. He had a notebook open with his reminder notes of the rules of earth time. The days in a month, 365 days a year, what days holidays were as far as he could remember, all that boring stuff.
It was a little silly to cling to the stuff, but, well, he liked to know. Even if the ravagers weren't big on holidays, he liked to celebrate some of 'em on his own time.
So he didn't want to lose track.
Quill looked at his notes, tried to do the math. He was either a couple days short, or Thanksgiving would be in two days.
He knew it changed around, it was kind of weird, but he always just put it on November 28th. That felt right.
He thinks it's two days, that's what he'll go with.
He settles on saying it's November 26th.
Then he hears a knock on his door, looking over, he calls out, "It's open, I got pants on."
He hears a slight scoff, and then the door opens, Gamora looking at him with a shake of her head, "Good."
"Hey! Gamora, what's up?" He asks the assassin, who's wearing a simple red t-shirt, and some simple jeans.
"I was wondering what you're doing. You've been holed up since lunch." Gamora asks, leaning against the doorframe. "What's all this?" She asks, gesturing to the tablet and notebook.
"Tryin' to get the date on earth lined up. I lost track with all the shit that was goin' on." Quill explains.
"Is it not in the Xandarian systems?" Gamora asks, "Or perhaps the Asgardian systems?"
"Nope. Not 'important enough', since it's not been integrated with the rest of the galaxy." Quill says, thinking about all the headaches he'd gotten when he learned that. Glad that Kraglin was willing to help him figure out the date back then.
"I see... That must be annoying." Gamora says, walking towards the bed, and sitting down to look at Quill's work. "We stayed on Xandar for exactly 39 days, if that helps. That doesn't count our arrival."
"That does help, or well, would've. I already guessed 40, but I think that does account for when we fought that guy. So, I think my math should be good then." Quill nods, satisfied.
"So what's this?" She points at his mockup calendar, specifically at his little doodle of a turkey on the 28th.
"Thanksgiving. It's a holiday back on Earth." Quill starts to explain, perking up, "A bunch of years ago, I think like 100 or something, these guys came to America, and met the people who already lived there, and they partied and celebrated bein' buddies or somethin' like that. And we celebrate Thanksgiving every year 'cuz of them. And you use Thanksgiving as a day to eat a big meal with your loved ones, and say the things you're thankful happened that year, or whatever. I always liked it for the food, but now that I'm older I kinda like that you just give some love to things that happened, and to the people around you, y'know?"
"Interesting... Would you want to celebrate it together?" Gamora asks, picking up on Quill's excitement.
"Like, you and me...?" Quill asks, cheeks getting a little red.
"Yes, you, me, Drax, Rocket, Groot, the team." Gamora says, listing on her fingers. "I think it might be nice."
"Oh." Quill deflates. "Oh," He reinflates, "that'd be really cool actually!"
Gamora smiles at him, "Should we tell them about it?"
"Yeah... Yeah!" Quill says excitedly, getting up and heading out.
Gamora shakes her head, smiling a little, while she turns off his tablet, and closes his notebook, before getting up to follow. It was kind of endearing how excited he was to share things from Earth with them all.
The two walk out, and Drax is at the table with the little Groot.
He'd started to move, but he was still a spindly little twig of a fella. He waved back and forth slowly, seemingly content with the act of existing. Always a little smile on his face, and his eyes seemed full of love and life whenever he opened them.
Right now was not one of those times, Drax was just watching him waving back and forth gently.
Quill gets right to business as he walks out of his room, "Drax, wanna celebrate a holiday?"
"What holiday?" Drax asks, looking at Quill.
"Thanksgiving, it's a holiday on Earth!" Quill says, "It's where you-"
"Give Thanks?" Drax asks.
"Uh, yeah, but you also eat really good food." Quill says, then thinks, "Ah man, we'd have to make food."
"If it is about eating AND giving thanks, it should be called Thanks and Food Giving." Drax says with a frown. "Similar to the Festival of Food and Thanks, from my people."
Quill blinks, "Well, huh." He pauses, processing the information for a second, then shakes his head, "It's not really about the eating, the food's more for making sure that everyone who's there is fed."
"I see." Drax nods.
"It was my idea to celebrate it." Gamora chimes in, "I thought it might be nice."
"I see. I too think it could be nice, to give thanks for those we love, and the things we've gained." Drax says with a nod. "Assuming that is what you give thanks for on Thanksgiving." He turns to Quill.
"That's about right, yeah." Quill says with a nod.
"I think it would be nice, then. And we will celebrate it. What do we need to cook?" Drax asks, right to business.
"We always made potatoes on Earth, but 'Utao Hearts' are basically the same as potatoes. They're just blue on the outside instead of brown. I think they taste basically the same." Quill says. He had experience hunting down substitutes. "You'd usually cook turkey, it's a bird, but it has this really specific taste. It's really hearty and it makes you sleepy, but not in a bad way." He clarifies as he sees Gamora and Drax frown, "I haven't found something quite like it, but it makes you feel full. Then there's stuffing, too, but that's like, I have no idea how to make it. You also have veggies and stuff."
He thinks a moment... "OH! And Pumpkin Pie. It's like, really sweet and savory, and it's super easy to scoop, and you put whipped cream on it, god I have no clue how to make it, or what is even CLOSE to it."
Gamora thinks, "I have no memories of eating much outside of the pure nutrient and vitamin and mineral-rich pastes and creams and tubes Thanos would feed us. Oftentimes, I'd relish in the ability to eat things that were ANYTHING, when I was out on missions, and had the money."
She turns to Drax and Quill, and admits plainly, "I'm incredibly excited to see what this meal might be like. Every time we've had something to eat together so far, whenever someone cooks, I've enjoyed it a lot."
Drax speaks up, "Quill is a mediocre cook at best. I am excellent."
"That's fair." Quill nods, "You ARE an excellent cook, it's crazy."
"Rocket, too, cooks incredibly well, though he is not very unique in his practices. But his is always edible and delicious." Drax says firmly. "Gamora, you will learn to cook in time, too. And then you, too, can join Rocket and I above Quill, on the pedestal of cooking talent."
"What!?" Quill asks, stunned, "At least my food has character, Rocket is JUST by the book. It's boring."
"By the book is better than so much nonsensical failure to try new things, that it gives us all stomach pain for days." Drax retorts. "I will need help cooking, and it will be Rocket I ask. Is he taking part in the Thanksgiving?"
"I haven't asked him yet." Quill says with a shrug. "I'll go ask."
And with that, Quill gets up and leaves, to find the little raccoon.
"...So, you think when I learn to cook, I'll be better than Quill? Really? He's had years to learn." Gamora asks.
"Oh, almost guaranteed. His lack of cooking skills would make my father cry." Drax says with a stern nod.
Quill looked in the cargo hold, and Rocket was currently working. He had the hefty puffball things in his ears that made it so he couldn't hear them, and the big thick goggles that blocked the light from welding.
So, the 'no one come in' sign was NOT for fun.
Quill turns his mask on right before a bright flash fills the room, making it look as if the lights were off entirely, just by how bright the light of the welding tools were.
Quill inches forward, looking over Rocket's shoulder to see if he's holding anything dangerous.
It's some sort of big ring thing, with a second smaller one closeby, and he's welding the metal together.
Since he's not actively holding the tools now, Quill quickly taps his shoulder.
Rocket tenses up immediately, and looks over his shoulder, then up at Quill.
Quill can't see his eyes, but he sees the slight snarl in his mouth, then Rocket sets what he's holding down, stands up, and takes the puffballs and goggles off.
"What?" He asks viciously, "Didn't y' see th' sign? Y'could die!" Rocket growled. Glaring daggers at his captain.
"Just wanted t' tell you we're celebrating a holiday in a couple days, Drax wants your help cooking, and I wanted to invite you to celebrate with us, it was Gamora's idea and all..." Quill explains, rolling his hands while he talks, to show he has more to say. That always seemed to keep Rocket from interrupting. Then Quill stops.
"Why's he need my help cookin', why would I celebrate it, why does it matta who's idea it is, an' what's a flarkin' haliday?" Rocket asks, crossing his arms with a glare as he says the last thing.
The Raccoon was wearing a simple yellow jumpsuit, black lines up the sides, and the yellow was faded with wear. He had a bag over his shoulder, a little earring dangling from one ear, and (his incredibly stupid) mohawk was unkempt today, looking more like a rooster's... Quill didn't know the word for it, but just, it wasn't looking it's best, Rocket must've been workin' a while to let himself look so ungroomed.
Quill groans, and rolls his eyes, "Because he's gonna be cooking a lot of stuff, he didn't want my help for some reason, I guess, and Thanksgiving, the holiday, is about bein' thankful for what you've got, and what you're happy about, and so on and so forth. And I guess it doesn't matter who's idea it was, but Gamora clarified it was hers to Drax, so I did it too." Quill says with a shrug, still a bit salty Drax thought Rocket was better at cooking than him.
"So y'need lab'r is what y'want. Got it." Rocket rolls his eyes, "Just tell Drax t' tell me when he wants th' help, but I ain't joinin' in on no stupid Holidays. That sounds like it'd be one a your 'parties' or somethin'. An' I don't need th' headache." Rocket says with a look over his shoulder at Quill, then at Quill's walkman, then at Quill again, to emphasize his point. "Jus' tell me if y'need me t' translate anythin' Groot says, otherwise don' bother me."
"What, can't be bothered to hang out with everyone for one meal? It's not like you skip out on eating dinner most of the time, so why not join the holiday gang or whatever? And hey, parties are great. It's not my fault you flip flop between hating or loving my music half the damn time." Quill retorts.
"I'm sorry that I like peace an' quiet, Quill. An' I don't like bein' interrupted when I'm workin' on important stuff." Rocket says firmly. "If y'need somethin' from me, you can message me, y'got my number."
"What I need is for you to not be an ass." Quill remarks, "Besides, it'd be more annoying for you to translate Groot if we keep havin' to call you up from the cargo bay just to see what he's saying, then you go right on back. It'd be a lot easier if you just ate with us, stuck around for the party or whatever we end up doing, and then buzzed right back off into your hovel on my ship. That I've so graciously let you apparently turn into a welder's workshop. What are you even making that's so important, anyways, huh?"
"Nun'a'ya business, that's what." Rocket retorts. "An' I guess y'got a point about it bein' annoyin', but th' real annoyin' thing would be tryin' t' hear 'im over y' d'ast music." Rocket glares at Quill, gesturing to the walkman.
"So I tells ya what. Y'don' play any music while we're eatin' or whatever, an' I'll come. Party with th' music after." Rocket offers.
Quill groans, annoyed at the idea of being bossed around about what he could and couldn't do on his own ship, but more for Groot than anything, he sighs, and nods. "Fine. Fine. No music while we're eating and giving thanks and stuff."
Quill turns, walking away, and rolls his eyes when he hears Rocket softly say "What've I got t' be glad f'r anyway..."
But he wouldn't let it keep him down.
First time he's celebrating Thanksgiving in years, with his friends, his team, the Guardians.
He wouldn't let Rocket bring him down like usual.
This? This'll be fun.