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Her green skin looks washed out in the purple light from a nearby star cluster — grey, almost — and it gives the whole thing a dreamlike quality, like none of this is real. But her palm is very real against his mouth, warming his lips as she stops him from babbling on about whatever it was he was babbling on about — whatever joke he was making to shift focus away from the idea of having to kill her.
Gamora is undeterred. “Swear to me, on your mother,” she says.
Peter Quill has never really been one for making vows or swearing oaths. They aren’t his thing. But right now Gamora needs assurance from him that he can do what she’s asking. She’s terrified and she needs him, he tells himself.
Twin tears track down her cheeks, and he reaches out to brush them away with his thumb. “Okay,” he says softly. “Okay.” He honestly doesn’t know if what he’s saying is true. He doesn’t know if he’s capable of killing Gamora, of all people, even if the fate of the universe is at stake.
Her kiss is grateful, and gentle, and he wants to forget everything about Thanos killing half the population of the universe and focus on that. So of course, Drax interrupts them, crunching on zork nuts and watching their relationship drama play out like he’s watching Days of Our Lives.
When Drax finally leaves, Mantis on his heels, Peter moves to pull Gamora into his arms to resume the kissing, now thankfully without an audience.
“One more thing,” she says.
Peter pauses, his mouth a centimeter from hers. Gamora pushes him back.
“If we must face Thanos, don’t let on that you care for me. He’ll use your feelings for me against you.”
Again he tries for a joke, and blows his breath out through pursed lips. “I don’t like you that much.”
“I’m serious, Peter.”
“So am I. I know I might’ve said some sappy romantic stuff to you last night, but you had me hypnotized on account of the sex. ”
Gamora rolls her eyes, but he can see a whisper of a smile at the corner of her mouth. “So you’ve decided you aren’t my ‘boyfriend’ after all?” She’s always complained about that word to him, but he suspects she secretly likes it.
Peter shrugs. “Long-term booty call at best.”
She almost smiles, but it lasts only a half second before the weight of what they’re facing settles on her shoulders again. “If I die because of Thanos, don’t… don’t throw your life away trying to avenge me. Just run away. Get Rocket and Groot and Drax and Mantis, and run away as far and as fast as you can.”
He shakes his head, smiling fondly at her. “No.”
His refusal makes Gamora slump with exhaustion. “Peter—”
“If you have to give up your life because of that maniac, then you’re crazy if you think I’m not going to do everything in my power to make sure it’s not in vain.” He pauses for effect. “Also I’m gonna enjoy the hell out of murdering that asshole.”
He’s trying again to make her laugh, but all he sees in her eyes is anguish.
“Gamora,” he says, pulling her into his arms again. “I feel like you’ve lost this battle in your head before we’ve even started. Have some faith that the Guardians of the motherfucking Galaxy can stop Thanos from destroying the universe.”
She rests her head on his chest, and he can’t see her facial expression. “Okay,” she says.
He kisses the top of her head, and they stand silently in each other’s arms for a long moment. When Gamora slides her hands around his waist, Peter flinches, remembering Rocket’s earlier comment about his weight.
She notices, of course, and looks up at him. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” Peter mutters, but can’t resist adding, “For the record, that Thor guy wasn’t so great.”
“You really don’t need to be jealous, you know.”
“I’m not jealous.”
“He’s an Asgardian, so there’s no use comparing yourself to him.”
“Right, ‘cause how many worlds has he saved from destruction?”
She arches an eyebrow at him. “A lot, probably.”
“And can he hold an infinity stone in his bare hand and not die?”
“I mean, he might be able to,” Gamora muses, and Peter glowers at her. It only makes her grin in response. “But for the record, I don’t go to bed with Asgardians. I only go to bed with Guardians of the motherfucking Galaxy.”
“You better not be including Drax in that.”
She punches him in the arm, still smiling. “Don’t be an idiot.”
He continues frowning at her, hoping to extend this silly flirtation and pleased that he’s distracted her from thinking about Thanos for a minute. “But I’m your idiot.”
“Yeah,” Gamora says softly. “Yeah you are.”