Thanksgiving, 2014

            "And so we aren't actually celebrating 'Thanksgiving' until Dinner, until then it's just prep and stuff." Quill explains to Gamora, sitting across from her on his bed. "Though I definitely appreciated being woken up, that was fine."

            "I see... When do we share the things we're thankful for, again? Is it while we're eating? After?" Gamora tilts her head.

            "I dunno the set time, figured we could do it like, before we eat. Some people pray before they eat, that's called Grace, and giving the thanks is like, similar enough to that?" Quill tilts his head as he talks.

            "Alright. I'll let Drax and Rocket know." Gamora gets up, walking out of the room.

            Quill takes a breath, "Alright..." He says, even though she left already.

            Getting up, he stretches, and looks in his closet. What was he gonna wear today... "The hell do you wear for Thanksgiving? Mom always made me wear like, that ugly striped sweater... So church stuff?"

Quill looks through his closet, eventually finding a look.

Dressing in some dark brown pants, with black boots, and a yellow cloth he wears like a little sash on his side.

Above that, he's wearing his nicest belt, with a Ravager belt buckle. Then he's got his cleanest white shirt, which had Whitney Houston on it. He liked this shirt, it was cool. She was pretty. Then he puts on an Orange jacket over that. Opting for that instead of red, since it'd be... Thanksgiving...y...

And with that, he walks out of his room.

Surprisingly, he sees Rocket passed out at the dining table, the shirt he stole from Quill a few weeks ago was stained with blood, oil, and various other colors of liquid. His fur was messy and unkempt, and he looked uncomfortable. And his dumb mohawk was even stained.

Quill suddenly remembers how, the night prior, Rocket had gotten into a fight with Drax, as apparently he had to build a cold storage for something with no warning, and then had to do something with a thing called 'Vangrita' that he said would take 'ages'.

The little rat dude was clearly exhausted, having fallen asleep sitting down, head on the table. Quill notices a half empty cup of coffee next to him.

            "Huh... You really worked yourself out, huh...?" He couldn't help but feel a little surprised. It felt weird to see Rocket putting in so much effort for something like this.

Well, he won't bother the guy.

He walks past him, opening the fridge.

There was some purple thing in there, it was in a clear bowl, covered, and when Quill curiously picked it up, it didn't budge an inch.

Was this the vangrita...?

When Rocket was pouring it out before, it was a liquid, wasn't it??

Quill puts it back, doesn't wanna mess it up.

He grabs a water bottle, and heads down to the cargo bay.

Drax had woken up early, and was turning the cargo bay into a cooking area. Apparently the Milano's kitchen wasn't up to snuff.

Drax turned, looking at Quill.

            "Good morning, Peter Quill. I am looking forward to dinner." Drax says with a polite nod.

            "Mornin' Drax!" Quill says with a smile. "Sure I can't help you cook?"

            "Rocket, Gamora and I will handle it." Drax says firmly.

            "Wh- Gamora too???" Quill deflates.

            "I have decided to use it as an opportunity to teach her some things." Drax says with a nod.

            "Oh, fair enough. So I'm on Groot-watch again?" Quill tilts his head. "Alright then."

            "Indeed. If you need a task, would you like to handle helping Groot with his exercises today? Rock's guide should be in your email somewhere, from when he made it." Drax says softly. "It would be quite helpful."

            "Oh, sure, I don't need some guide though, exercise is kinda self explanatory." Quill says, slightly annoyed.

            "Quill, you are not a growing adolescent Flora Colossus. You do not know the exercises they need. Rocket did, and provided a guide. Use the guide. Or you might hurt Groot." Drax says, deathly serious.

            "Fine, fair, fair." Quill grumbles.

            "Another task. Do not fight with Rocket today." Drax says firmly.

            "Hah, and what about when he starts a fight with me??" Quill barks a laugh. "He starts it half the fuckin' time. Maybe 75% of the time, actually."

            "Believe me, I will be giving him the same task." Drax says. "Now then, I must focus on this task, go check on Groot."

            Quill frowns at Drax as the buff grey guy turns away. "Alright."

Rocket woke up, bones stiff, and quickly rushed to the shower.

Cleaning up, brushing his fur, and then thinking about what to wear. He had seen Quill with Groot on his way by, Quill seemingly thought he would dress up to match the decorations...

Was that part of the deal?

Rocket looks at himself in the mirror.

The scars from the power stone creep across his face.

He frowns at the mohawk on his head. Peter always made fun of it, and now he had mixed feelings on it.

He looks at his face. Apparently he looked like a 'raccoon' to Quill. And like some animal Drax would eat on his homeworld. Gamora bounced between different animals.

Groot was barely speaking so far, but all he saw him as was Dad.

Rocket looks at his scarred torso. The metal implants hidden in his fur.

He shudders slightly.

He didn't love himself. He didn't love his life.

He didn't love his face. He didn't love his scars.

He didn't love the fact he was the only one on the crew besides Groot who didn't have a bed.

Quill and Drax shared one room, Gamora had the other. Rocket just slept in the cargo bay, usually.

He got his Groot killed, now this new Groot was... Not his Groot. But he was a baby, and Rocket wouldn't abandon him. Even if it hurt to have to care for him sometimes.

Rocket tries to think. What did he have to be glad about. What did he have to be grateful for.

He had a crew he barely got along with most days.

Crew that'd probably dump him sooner, rather than later. A crew who he'd probably get hurt eventually, who'll leave him behind eventually.

Quill, who hates him.

Drax, who probably gets tired of dealing with Rocket's mood swings.

Gamora, who's always annoyingly having to mediate Rocket and Quill's arguments.

And Groot, who was the only reason Rocket wouldn't leave yet. He needed the help raising the kid, and didn't trust them to raise him without Rocket there.

He had been pardoned of his past crimes, but some of those were things he didn't... Want... Forgiven for.

People who he didn't deserve forgiveness for killing.

He sighs.

Looks at himself in the mirror, he was helping Drax cook today.

He was glad Drax wanted his help cooking.

It made him feel proud.

He was glad Gamora was willing to rely on him at the market.

It made him feel useful.

He was glad Quill had been willing to negotiate for the holiday celebration.

It made him feel like he had a voice.

And he was glad Groot's kid was here. That he wasn't gone all the way, that there was still one Flora Colossus left.

It made him feel like he had a purpose.

He sighs.

. . .

Rocket walks out of the bathroom, and down to the cargo bay. He had put on a fiery red jumpsuit, different to the slightly pinkified red of the Ravagers.

He put some simple goggles on, his head having felt slightly bare.

He had attached the sleeves that he cooked with, with the gloves and such, make it so he doesn't get fur in anything.

He had shaved the mohawk.

Because it might get fur in the food, for sure.

Rocket walks down to the cargo bay, and Drax raises an eyebrow as he looks at him.

He glanced at Rocket's head, then looks into Rocket's eyes. Rocket slides his goggles down to hide his eyes. Didn't want Drax seeing anything in 'em.

            Drax gets the hint. "Good morning, Rocket."

            "Hey." Rocket says, keeping his voice low and level. "Cookin' time, eh?"

            "Indeed." Drax nods, sighing.

            He turns towards the open back of the ship. "GAMORA, IT IS TIME TO BEGIN COOKING." 

            Gamora jogs into the cargo bay. "Is Rocket awa-Woah." She pauses, looking at Rocket.

            "...You shaved your mohawk...?" She asks gently. Sounding a little surprised and concerned.

            Rocket shrugs. "Star-Louse's right. Gets in the way. Don't wanna get fur in the food or nothin'."

Gamora frowns and nods in faked understanding. Drax nods as well. Rocket feels like they're definitely seeing through him.

            "Let's just cook." Rocket grumbles.

            "Okay. What first?" Drax turns to Gamora. "Do you remember what we discussed?"

            Gamora has to think a moment. "We have to... Bake the lizard. And Rocket said the Vangrita needed a lot of attention..."

            Rocket raises a hand. "Stayed up last night gettin' the longest part of the Vangrita done."

            "Right, so we want to prepare the Lizard, then?" Gamora turns to Drax.

            "Yes." Drax nods.

Drax leads the team.

Rocket prepares the tray while Drax shows Gamora how to prep the lizard. They stuff it, but not with the things they're making the stuffing out of.

They get the lizard baking, and Rocket and Drax compare carving techniques for Utao Hearts.

Drax gets it perfectly, but slowly. He's careful.

Rocket can do it in one swift motion, but wastes a decent bit of the actual interior.

Gamora struggles with both ways. She's not done much torture. She's not good at skinning things.

Rocket and Drax try teaching each other their techniques. Rocket gets more precise, Drax gets faster. It's fun.

Gamora learns well.

Next, the trio start to work on the Vangrita.

Or rather, Rocket explains what he's doing while he makes the crust, and explains how it works, what it's like, and how he hopes it's the right taste.

He explains how it had to be mixed by hand until it went from a liquid, to a solid cream.

He explains that it took around 4 hours, and his arms were still sore, which accidentally cues Drax to suddenly take over the work Rocket was doing, ordering him to rest.

Rocket sits and explains the process of making the crust, and how to bake the Vangrita, and how it then must cool a while.

Then they work on Gamora's side dish. She had seen some sort of small vegetable mix, the vegetables made into tiny orbs, and mixed with a brown rice-like food.

Rocket is curious about the process of making spherically cut vegetables, that small as well, and realizes they need some specific tool.

Gamora had felt embarrassed she had overlooked that, but Rocket had a version of the tool handcrafted in a couple minutes.

The group gets it made, and sets it in a warming pot, to make sure it stays fresh and warm.

Then they make kebabs, Drax's side choice.

They finish the meat, peppers, and veggies, and fungi. They have them speared on sticks, and then those too, go in warming pots.

Rocket's side dish was... Home-frying popped grits. Poppy Bits. No one was surprised by this.

What was surprising, was how hard frying things actually WAS.

After struggling their way through breading and burning and cursing and a little crying, they finally had enough Poppy Bits made for Rocket to be satisfied.

They kept working now, making the mashed Utao Hearts.

They made a few side dishes, a grilled salad, things like that. 

Everyone slumps onto the bench Drax had put into the Cargo Bay. Rocket took off his cooking sleeves and goggles, Drax had untied the apron he put on.

8 Hours of Work.

8 Hours of Teaching.

8 Hours of Helping.

8 Hours of Joking, Laughing.

8 Hours of Pure Joy.

            "Hhohh... My goodness..." Gamora says with a soft sigh. "Exhausting. Cooking is fun, but exhausting. But I have learned so much today..."

            "That is what any work done out of care feels like." Drax says softly. "It feels fun, and hard."

            "Don't say that around Quill." Gamora says with a chuckle.

            Rocket frowns in confusion, not getting it. "Well, we almost got it all done, jus' waitin' on th' Lizard."

            "The Liz..." Drax sits up, "The Lizard!!! We must take it out, it was meant to come out before we stopped!"

Rocket had already gotten up, opening the stove, and grabbing the tray. He pulls it out, and holds it, looking for space.

Drax and Gamora are looking at Rocket with extreme concern.

            "Rocket...?" Gamora asks. "We... Had the stove on, right?"

            "Well duh." Rocket says, "Otherwise we'd be flarkin' screwed."

            ". . . Put the tray down Rocket. Thank you for pulling it out." Drax says slowly.

            Rocket puts it down, and looks at Drax and Gamora. "Why're y'all bein' weird?"

            "Didn't that burn?" Gamora asks.

            Rocket looks at his hands. They fur is pressed down, and the skin is reddened brightly. There's discoloration, and if he really really thinks about it, it hurts a little but like. Not really. "No?"

            "I don't feel much surface level stuff." Rocket shrugs. "Ain't a big deal."

Drax walks over, and flicks Rocket's shoulder.

Rocket looks at it, but doesn't react.

Drax uses a nail to poke.

Rocket frowns at him.

            "What exactly a' you tryin' t' do?" Rocket asks.

            "I am curious how high your pain tolerance is." Drax says, then sharply jabs his nail deeper into Rocket's shoulder.

            "Why?" Rocket asks. Drax seems surprised.

            "It is good to know, I think." Drax grips Rocket's shoulder, and the rodent quickly snaps to attention.

The claw grip on his shoulder makes him bristle.

Drax tilts his head.

            "Pain?"

            "Discomfort."

            "Do you want me to stop?"

            "It's a lil' interestin'."

            "Very well."

Drax grips slightly.

Rocket doesn't react.

Drax grips harder.

Rocket tilts his head, looking at the grip.

Drax grips much, much firmer, if he tried harder, he could probably break the skin and make his fingers touch.

Rocket suddenly yelps, and pulls away, Drax immediately releasing him and allowing him to go.

            "I am sorry." Drax says quickly.

            "Y' fine, y' fine." Rocket waves a hand. "I coulda stopped ya."

            "I had to go quite deep, you do not feel much pain, do you?" Drax tilts his head.

            "Oh, hardly." Rocket snorts, amused.

            "I have tonsa chronic pain, an' anytime my implants shift too much, it makes it hurt like hell. Plus my bones sometimes shift outta position an' it hurts like crazy. But I'm used t' that stuff. So it ain't as noticeable at this point. An' th' surface level stuff is barely there when it ain't somewhere less work happened." Rocket looks at Drax and Gamora's grim, horrified faces. "...I'm sayin' I'm fine."

            "Well, let's get everything set up in the dining room then." Gamora says quickly, standing up.

            "Agreed." Drax says.

            "So Gamora, y'ain't eaten much right? Y'excited?" Rocket asks.

            "I have not, no, and I am, yes." Gamora says with a smile.

            "All of it smells wonderful, I have had to stop myself from having some a few times. It's very tempting." Gamora says.

            "Hey Drax, d'you care?" Rocket asks, gesturing towards the Poppy Bits he was carrying.

            "Slightly." Drax says honestly.

            "Turn around." Rocket says, twirling his finger.

            "Very well." Drax turns.

            "Gamora." Rocket says firmly.

            "What?" She asks, confused by this setup.

            "Open up." Rocket says.

            "What???" She asks, now even more confused.

            "Ah." Rocket says, pointing to himself, and opening his mouth. 

            Gamora is anxious, but opens her mouth. "Ah...?"

            Rocket expertly flicks a Poppy Bit into her mouth. "Enjoy."

Gamora is surprised, but holds a hand to her cheek as she chews, closing her eyes in delight.

            "Oh wow..." She says with a sigh.

            "I am so excited to eat so many things." She says warmly.

            Drax turns back around. "Okay, let us set the table."

. . .

The table is set before too long.

Gamora had gone off to get dressed, as had Drax. So Quill left their shared room.

Rocket was looking around at the decorations for now.

He perks up when Quill comes out.

            "How was Groot?" Rocket starts.

            "Exhaustingly energetic..." quill starts, before he goes wide eyed as he sees Rocket.

            "You finally shaved it!!" Quill points at Rocket's head, and the rodent tenses up. "Thank fuckin' god."

            "It wasn't that bad..." Rocket grumbles.

            "Oh believe me. It was. You already look passable now." Quill says. "What finally pushed ya over the edge? A month ago you said you'd get rid of it when you were dead."

            Rocket glares at Quill. "Didn't wanna get fur in yer precious stupid haliday food junk."

            "Maybe I shoulda kept it, get extra in yers." Rocket snickers. 

            "Try that and you're takin' a swim in cement shoes." Quill glares at him. Then sighs. "Cement is a stone. It's heavy and sinks."

            Rocket's confusion turns to annoyance. "Cool."

            "Well, choke on yer flarkin' nonsense." Rocket growls. "Allayas. Jus' eat an' shut up. Let's have a silent meal. An' then ya can kiss my ass while I'm walkin' away after we eat the food I helped make."

            Quill growls lightly. "Of course. What an appetizing thought to have before we all eat."

            "And for the record, if Drax asked for my help cookin', you'd be eatin' the best food you've ever had. Instead we'll be stomaching your bland cuisine and just bein' thankful that you didn't get a hair in anything." Quill grumbles. "I don't get why he asked for your help anyway, not like you even know what Thanksgiving food is supposed to be."

            Quill gestures to the table. "I mean seriously, fucking popped grits? Fried food??? That's not only lame, unhealthy, and nasty, but it just completely fails the brief, that isn't a holiday food."

            Rocket's ears flick back and forth. He looks down, but just sighs. "Why fuckin' both'r." He growls.

            "Fine, take 'em off the fuckin' table. I'm gettin' dressed. Go fuck y'rself." He growls, stomping off.

            Quill sighs. "Ass... Shouldnt've invited him..."

He tosses the Grits into a box and puts it in the fridge.

He immediately feels guilty for thinking like that, and getting into a fight.

Groot had been so exhaustingly needy all day, and trying not to get mad at him, or snappy, and trying to do the stupid exercises. 

It just completely drained him. He was just taking a moment to rest and recover before dinner.

Then there's dealing with Rocket's nonsense.

Shaving the dumb mohawk and bringing Popped Grits, be was probably trying to get attention or some shit, so he could whine and complain with all eyes on him, for being oh so forced to participate.

Probably, at least. Maybe Quill was just tired and snappy.

Maybe he should apologize after he relaxed a bit more.

He was thankful that everyone agreed to this.

Just de-stress a bit, and then dinner.