Having a day to yourselves was a downright blessing in your eyes. From your late shifts at the bar, to Rocket's early starts for a mission, your time together had recently become limited. Ranging from only a few hours, to a few couple days, to the rare two or three weeks, you took this time seriously. And by god, Rocket did too.
His commissions had been growing longer, with early hours and finishing either just as you woke up to start your shift, or right after you left through the apartment door.
He needed some down time, and it was clear in the eyes of his crew that they needed it too. He wasn't one to admit rest was required, but he knew when the others needed it.
Caring for his crew, he spaced out the previous mission and the following one, giving the Guardians a guaranteed week off after such consistent and grueling work, with absolutely no responsibilities put onto them to worry about.
"I planned this week off for you guys. Not me, alright?"
What a coincidence that his week off aligned perfectly with yours.
The first morning without his alarming blaring in his ear, and startling you in the process if you happened to be sleeping at that time, it almost felt wrong. Like something was waiting to be done, yet it was being ignored and forgotten.
The sleep-in was one thing.
Being knocked out for a solid nine hours never felt so good. And it had never been so needed.
He had fallen asleep at the same time as you. And you have woken up at the same time as him.
The previous night hadn't been boring. Slow, incredibly slow, but boring? You couldn't remember the last time you considered a night with Rocket to have been a boring one.
It had started mellow and close. Dinner of your choosing, and a movie of his, it was quick compromise that was easy to come to when your main mutual goal was to be cumming by 12am.
He made it an hour earlier.
It had been halfway through the film when you moaned his name for the first time that night.
And didn't stop repeating it for another hour or two after that.
He couldn't give a shit that it started in the middle of his favourite scene.
A full nine hours after falling asleep, Rocket stirred with a low groan and blinked to remove the fog from his vision, allowing his eyes to settle on you laying beside him with your arm draped limply over his chest. He sighed, letting his eyes close for a moment, feeling the soft sensation of your fingers through his fur.
The slight twitch in your knuckles, the change in the depth of your breath, revealed you stirring.
He didn't say a word, not a sound left his lips, as his eyes peered open tiredly to take a quick glance at the silent alarm clock that read a time just after 10am, before bringing his gaze back on you as you woke.
While lying on your stomach and your head on it's side, Rocket had the perfect view of your eyes attempting to open then settling on him. With a gentle shift on the bed, your hand left his chest to reach over him and hook around his ribs, making a pitiful attempt of pulling him closer in your half-asleep state. It was an instant understanding for him. One he couldn't ignore, no matter how hard he tried.
Something confirmed in the eyes of many; Rocket just couldn't stay away from his girl.
He moved gingerly while watching you groggily turn on your side. Your hand had stayed on him as he moved closer and you tried to look at him as best you could with a blurry gaze, and barely open eyes.
Your vision cleared while his remained crystal, taking in every detail of your tired expression glancing around, attempting to make sense of your surroundings. It was something he always found adorable, despite telling you he hated anything cute.
"Don't worry, sweetheart, you're a different kind of cute."
"What kind are you referencing?"
"My kind."
"Your hand unhooked from his ribs as your arm stretched over his head with your eyes closed. His hand stayed ready in case your limb came crashing down on his face, it having happened once or twice in the passed groggy mornings.
As your arm relaxed and lowered, his hand reached to hold yours, directing it away from his eyes and back onto his chest, leaving it there to let your fingers admire his fur once more by gentle instinct.
It was rare for a conversation to take place in the mornings considering how tired you two tended to be when going to, or returning from work.
"You awake?"
This morning was different.
You reply with a muffled groan and an instinctive movement, shielding yourself from the terribly complex question you were just asked.
Your fingertips could no longer feel his fur as your body turned to face the other way, seeking a moment of respite from the query that you couldn't bare to ponder.
"So, no?"
A quick inhale, a long exhale, and a glance over your shoulder, "why are you speaking right now?"
His eyes were narrowed in amusement. "Am I not allowed to?"
You felt a shift in the bed and knew Rocket was sitting up by the way the sheets rustled and moved off your shoulders. A tiny chill ran down your spine.
"Not before nine," you replied, your head turning back to rest comfortably on the pillow. Your hand reached aimlessly for the blanket to cover your exposed skin again, to savour the warmth with your eyes drifting closed once more.
"It's passed ten, baby."
Your eyes then blinked, searching for the time on the clock that stayed stationed on your bedside table.
It was passed ten. 10:22am, to be exact.
"Still too early."
The comment didn't register with him. That, or Rocket had chosen to ignore it.
His arm, going under the blanket, snaked to your waist. His hand brushed your skin purposefully without an ounce of effort. It helped that you weren't wearing a shirt, or those comfortable pants you loved sleeping in. And neither was he. His fur was tousled and his body was bare, yet still the perfect warmth.
Your body shifted instinctively, giving him access to wherever he wished to explore, no matter how many times he had memorised your figure.
His claws sent goosebumps, as they always did. His hand, going from the curve of your waist, to your stomach, before settling under your breast to give it a gentle squeeze with a sigh from him, there was no rush. Not this morning.
"Still too early?"
You felt his body press against your back, his breath behind your ear. His right hand, thumb running upwards to graze your nipple, succeeding in getting a tiny inhale from you. His left hand, fingers tangling in your hair with the most gentle of touches. He took a fistful of your hair, tugging lightly to bring your head back and placing a soft kiss on your neck, then another, and one more, letting his lips linger for a moment.
Your eyes were almost closed and your lips parted slightly, releasing that previously inhale. Yet this one was slower, soft, calm.
And guessing by the heat between your legs, it wasn't too early at all.