Raising a kid was hard. Raising an angsty teenager—who also happened to be a tree—was harder.
That was usually Peter Quill’s train of thought in situations like this. Currently, the other Guardians were scrambling after said treenager, attempting to stop Groot before he could hole himself up with Arcade Defender for hours on end. Peter himself was trying to process the chaos, mouth gaping, when a screwdriver lodged itself into the metal wall, inches from his right ear. He frowned at this, turning to face the woman who’d thrown it.
“Hey,” he whined, “what was that for?”
Gamora huffed in annoyance and glared explicitly at him. “You were just standing there, gaping like an idiot. What else was I supposed to do?” Her eyebrow arched inquisitively.
“I don’t know, maybe not chuck a screwdriver at me?” He returned the raised eyebrow, crossing his arms petulantly.
A gruff voice suddenly cut in. “Hey! If you two idiots are done yammering, Drax and I could use a little help over here!” Rocket Raccoon’s eyes were narrowed at them, his tail twitching in irritation. Peter felt the urge to pet the tail for a millisecond, then recalled the time when he’d attempted to do so. Most terrifying moment of his life. For the sake of his fingers, and because it was irrelevant, he pushed the thought out of his head.
“I just don’t get why you guys are making such a big deal out of this.” Their eyes looked to him sharply, and he explained further. “I played Arcade Defender all the time when I was younger, and look how I turned out!”
Rocket snorted. “That’s only convinced me further that we need to confiscate the damn thing.”
Gamora watched with visible amusement as Peter gasped dramatically. “Hey!” he barked, mentally rehearsing one of the many long, dramatic speeches he had stored in his head. Before he could get a word out, however, he was interrupted by Drax’s triumphant cry. The three of them turned to face Drax, who was holding a wiggling Groot high above his head.
“While you fools were arguing amongst yourselves,” Drax gazed at them smugly, “I successfully caught the little tree!” Drax let out a booming laugh, and Groot made a strange hissing noise at him.
“I wonder who he got that from?” he said casually to Rocket, looking at him peripherally with a pointed look. His lips twitched into a mischievous smirk as Rocket snarled at him.
“It was one time!” he grumbled, and Peter’s smirk widened into a mirthful grin. Gamora smacked his arm, but when he looked at her quizzically, she only rolled her eyes fondly.
Suddenly, there was a loud smack, and Drax swore at the top of his lungs. They looked over to see Drax cradling his nose, and Groot sitting cross-legged on the floor, looking quite satisfied with himself.
“No swearing in front of Groot!” Rocket snapped at Drax. Groot rolled his eyes.
“I am Groot!” he said mockingly, and rolled his eyes again when they all gasped in horror.
“Woah there!” Peter said, brow furrowing.
“What did we tell you about using that kind of language?” Gamora admonished with a frown.
“I am Groot.” Groot replied distractedly, already tapping away at his game.
“Hey!” Groot looked up at Rocket’s tone. “Don’t talk to them like that, young man!” He stepped closer to Groot and the treenager narrowed his eyes.
“Now, hand me that game, and apologize.” Rocket’s tone left no room for argument.
Groot made room though, and with a sarcastic “I am Groot!”, he took off running out of the room. Rocket growled and stomped after him.
Peter blinked once, twice, before turning to Gamora. She looked frustrated, and he sighed loudly to get her attention.
“I guess we have a troublemaker on our hands, huh?” he said lightly, and she chuckled, frustration fading from her face.
“I guess we do.” She chuckled again, and walked leisurely in the same direction as Rocket. Peter let out a quieter sigh of resignation, and started after her. This was going to be a long day.