Southern skies
Have you ever noticed southern skies?
Its precious beauty lies just beyond the eye
It goes running through your soul
Like the stories told of old
“Why won’t these goddamn windows stop fogging up?! What a piece of shit!” Peter yelled in frustration, kicking the driver’s panel in front of him, deploying the window wipers for the fifth time in a half hour. Rocket just grumbled next to him.
“Maybe if we hadn’t landed on one of the most humid and tropical planets ever, this wouldn’t be happening,” Rocket growled, and Peter hummed in agreement.
They had been sent to the planet of Chrysteria by a rogue group of Alutarians in the search for a precious jewel deep in the heart of the planet in exchange for a very generous bounty. The Guardians were buzzing with excitement from the mission at hand – not only would they be rich but they would obtain this status while visiting a place long upheld for its lush forests and beautiful crystal clear waters. Sure, the planet was virtually uninhabited and who knew what pitfalls lingered, but the Guardians relished the chance to get up close and personal with this natural wonder of the galaxy.
That is, until they opened the door of the Milano and were hit with humidity so harsh, their breath was taken away in an instant. Their bodies sweating and alien species of bugs eating away at their skin, they trudged through the thick vegetation of the forest, wishing each second that they could be on the Milano. Or anywhere, as long as they were far away from the hellish nature of this beautiful yet deceiving planet.
“Well at least we got our treasure,” Peter quipped happily, tossing the jewel up in the air several times before placing it safely beside him. Finally, the Milano exceeded Chrysteria’s atmosphere and the windows cleared, the dark and starry galaxy extending before them.
Peter was about to rejoice in this news when he noticed the sound of furious scratching from the seat next to him. Turning, his eyes fell upon Rocket, his hair puffed out and frizzy from the humidity, the ends curling tightly. The raccoon was feverishly scratching his body, skin underneath going red, grimace on his face. Chuckling at the sight before him, Peter raised an eyebrow.
“What’s the matter with you?” he asked, a hint of amusement in his voice. Rocket glared at him in frustration, his claws reaching hard for spots on his neck and behind his ears.
“Arg, it’s those fucking gnats from Planet of Dreams back there. I think I’m allergic to ‘em or somethin’,” he mumbled, his voice slightly pained. Peter looked at him sympathetically, putting the ship on automatic piloting.
“What can I do for you, buddy?” he asked.
“Just make this damn itching stop –“ Rocket started, but suddenly froze, his eyes wide and mouth hanging open. He looked to Peter, whose eyes were also widened. “What in the absolute fuck am I doin’?” Rocket questioned in panic, pointing down. His foot had come up unconsciously, its goal to help scratch away the itch, similar to the actions of a dog. “Peter, what in the hell is this?!” he squealed frantically, gesturing wildly to the leg that was still in the air, frozen in place.
Peter sniggered. “Call of the wild?” he said jokingly, to which Rocket threw a hammer at him in reply. Peter dodged the incoming object, his face red from laughter, and stood up.
“Not helping asshole!” Rocket spat, but Peter kept on laughing anyways. “I am not a rajoon!!!” Rocket yelled, and Peter put up his hands in defeat, trying to calm down his friend.
“Relax, drama queen, I’m just playing around. Let me get you something for your itching,” Peter said seriously, and Rocket clapped.
“First useful thing you’ve said all day!” he retorted, causing Peter to roll his eyes.
“Don’t make me throw you back on that planet,” Peter threatened, retreating to the back of the Milano where the med bay was to retrieve some lotion for Rocket. Coming back with a giant tube of green aloe lotion, Peter noticed Rocket flitting around on the computer in front of him, the screen flicking quickly from one image to the next, Rocket’s face intent as he hummed through each image.
Without thinking Peter came up behind Rocket, slathering some of the lotion on his hands and rubbing it through the fur on the raccoon’s face. Rocket turned to put up a fight at the physical touch but found himself relaxing as the lotion hit his skin, the coolness of it taking away the burn from the itching and causing him to feel better. Sighing contentedly he sat back in his chair, letting Peter continue as he proceeded in his computer search.
“What are you doing, anyways?” Peter shot out curiously, causing Rocket to wave him off, his eyes shifting in secrecy. Peter lifted his hands off of the raccoon, causing a string of complaints to come from his friend.
Mysteries
Like this and many others in the trees
Blow in the night
In the southern skies
“Rocket…” he scolded, and Rocket simply looked to the ground, a look of shame on his face. Finally he sighed in annoyance, folding his arms like a child throwing a tantrum.
“If ya must know, Star-Dork,” he huffed, getting a smack on the side of the head from his counterpart, “and of course you must…I’m tryin’ to find out what a raccoon looks like,” he whispered, causing Peter to burst out laughing.
“No fucking way!” He yelled out, the raccoon just glaring at him. “Mister I’m-Not-A-Raccoon finally figures out we might be telling him the truth? Is the world ending or something?!” Peter exclaimed, causing Rocket to stand up and grab the bottle of aloe, squirting it into Peter’s face and causing him to fall silent.
“Dude, not cool!!!” he gasped, wiping the liquid out of his eyes, “I just bought this shirt yesterday,” he continued, trying to wipe off the mess from his sweater. Rocket just smiled with pride.
“Then quit bein’ a dick and help me find this image, loser,” he shot out, and Peter shot the bottle of aloe at his friend.
“Asshole,” he muttered, coming back up behind the chair. “Last time I ever help you out,” he mumbled, and Rocket sniggered.
“I have ya under my control, slave,” Rocket quipped, causing Peter to chuckle. Leaning over the chair to reach the computer, he flicked a few buttons and Earth showed up on screen.
“This is the planet you want, in case you’ve already forgotten my homeland,” Peter said, a hint of mock sadness in his voice. Rocket just shrugged.
“Ya always call it Earth, so it’s not my fault I forgot it’s actually called Terra,” Rocket said, but Peter waved that off.
“Terra my ass,” he said, and Rocket rolled his eyes in amusement. “Don’t know where you idiots got that name from anyways,” he said, a hint of offense in his tone. He watched as Rocket typed the word ‘raccoon’ into the search engine of fauna and flora for the planet, having to correct him several times in the spelling, smiling when photos of the little furry creature popped up on screen.
“Damn, I miss home sometimes,” he said wistfully, his heart hurting a little at the sight in front of him. He looked down when he heard Rocket scoff.
“Looks nothing like me,” was all he said, and Peter moaned loudly in response.
“Dude! You two look like fucking identical twins!” He exclaimed, motioning wildly to both Rocket and the computer. “Jesus Christ Rocket, pay attention!” He yelled, grabbing a mirror from his side of the ship and holding it to Rocket’s face. Rocket fell silent, looking at his reflection and then to the computer, repeating this action several times.
“Well?” Peter said, putting a hand on his hip. Rocket just sighed.
“Well, for one, I look fucking stupid – that planet really did a number on my fur,” he said, running a hand through his fur. “But..well..” He stuttered, and Peter smiled proudly.
“Say it,” he said forcefully but playfully, and Rocket crossed his arms once more.
“I refuse,” he scoffed, turning away from Peter, but Peter wasn’t having it.
“Say it!” He yelled, staring at his friend, and Rocket’s demeanor finally broke. Holding up his paws, he laughed slightly, looking away in humiliation.
“Fine! I kinda sorta do resemble that furry mutation on the screen. Ya happy now?!” he said, sticking his tongue out, and Peter threw his fist in the air in a silent celebration.
“But Peter?” Rocket said, his tone serious. Peter stopped his cheering and stared at the raccoon, jumping when he realized a gun was pointing at him.
“Rocket, what the fuc-“
“Tell anyone of this or call me raccoon one fucking time, and your life ends,” he snarled, and Peter just laughed, returning to his seat and switching the piloting back to manual.
“If you say so, buddy,” he said, watching as Rocket continued to scroll through the photos.
“Ugh, these things look so…cute,” Rocket said, a hint of disgust in his voice. “Tell me I’m not cute like that,” Rocket said, looking to Peter for assurance, but Peter stared at him fondly.
“Rocket?” he questioned sweetly, but the raccoon just snarled.
“Shut the fuck up,” Rocket growled, but Peter just batted his eyelashes playfully.
“You’re the cutest darn thing to ever set foot in this galaxy,” he started, causing Rocket to moan.
“I hate you,” he said, but Peter just chuckled.
“I mean, if you’re into garbage-toting, trash talking little assassins with God complexes that hate associating themselves with anything except…themselves,” Peter finished, and Rocket hummed in happiness.
“Much better,” he said, closing the screen altogether and erasing any thought of the little procyon from his mind. “Ain’t nobody like me, ‘cept me, and don’t you forget it,” he said softly, settling back into his chair, the itch on his body finally subsiding.
Southern nights
Just as good even when you close your eyes
I apologize to anyone who can truly say
That he has found a better way