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“It’s beautiful up here, isn’t it?”
“Mmm.” Peter nodded distractedly, staring off into space.
“Peter.” Gamora lightly elbowed his side.
“Ow,” Peter whined. “Okay, I’m listening.”
“I barely touched you,” Gamora said rather disgustedly. “I said, ‘it’s beautiful up here, isn’t it?’”
“Oh. ‘Course.” Peter smiled fondly in her direction. “Not as beautiful as you, though.”
“You are an insufferable sap,” Gamora scoffed teasingly, ruffling his hair.
“Hey, you were the one who insisted on stargazing. That’s about as sappy as it gets,” Peter protested, pulling an inadequately-sized fleece blanket emblazoned with the California Institute of Technology logo tighter around his shoulders. “Also, I’m freezing.”
“You’re wearing an undershirt and it’s fifty degrees,” Gamora sighed, glancing down at the oversized University of Mississipi football sweatshirt falling in heaps of fabric around her abdomen. “Of course you’re cold.”
“Cold but chivalrous,” Peter agreed, grinning cheekily. Fondly annoyed, Gamora wrapped her arm around his shoulders. He leaned against her like a cat at a scratching post, nuzzling against her neck. The stars, even so close to the sprawling Los Angeles skyline, were clear as she’d ever seen them.
“See those stars that sort of make a W shape?” she asked, pointing out the constellation.
“Ummm…” Peter gazed up at the spot her finger indicated, squinting in concentration. “Oh, yeah! I think I can see it.”
“That constellation’s called Cassiopeia,” Gamora told him. “It was named after an Ethiopian queen.”
“I didn’t know you liked that stuff,” Peter thought aloud. “You just keep on surprising me.”
“My sister liked astronomy when we were kids,” Gamora explained. “Fitting, huh?”
“What do you mea- oh.”Peter grinned in understanding. “’Cause her name’s Nebula, and that’s like…a space thing. Nice.”
“A space thing,” Gamora repeated, shaking her head in amusement. “I suppose that’s one way of putting it.
“Oh, I’m sorry, it’s an astronomical phenomenon,” Peter corrected. “My bad.”
“You’ve got a surprisingly broad vocabulary for someone who claims to be dumb as a brick. You should use it more often.”
“Uh, no,” Peter immediately decided. “Why would I go to the trouble of saying all those long words when ‘space thing’ means exactly the same thing?”
“Efficiency isn’t everything,” Gamora said, moving closer to steal his minimal remaining body heat.
“Yes it is, and you can’t possibly be cold in that thing,” Peter protested, gesturing to her (his) blanket-like sweatshirt, but he didn’t move away.
“What if I just enjoy close proximity with my boyfriend?” Gamora teased.
“You don’t.”
“I don’t,” she agreed.
“So you are cold!” Peter crowed triumphantly.
“Okay, I’m cold, but you’re cold too,” Gamora said accusingly. “We are in a state of mutual coldness.”
“Does everything you say have to sound like a lab report?” Peter teased, reciprocally wrapping an arm around her for warmth (as little as either of them had, it couldn’t hurt).
“It suits me,” Gamora protested. “Dry, unemotional, and providing only useful information.”
“You are not dry,” Peter protested. “Or unemotional.”
“When was the last time I told a joke?” Gamora challenged. “Cried? Laughed? Got angry?”
“Yesterday,” Peter answered without missing a beat. “That Sarah McLachlan ASPCA commercial made you cry.”
“Those ads are traumatizing, Peter,” Gamora protested. “You’ve got to be a soulless robot not to cry when you see one!”
“And you laughed at the scientific inaccuracies in Barracudacane,” he recalled.
“What did you expect when you made me watch a movie about a hurricane that picks up barracudas, which proceed to kill everyone in a ten-mile radius?!? Barracudas have only attacked twenty-five people in the last century!” Gamora protested.
“I’m going to shut up before you give me a scar I’ll still have at graduation,” Peter sighed. “But I win.”
“You definitely don’t, but I’ll let this one go.” Gamora rested her head against his shoulder acquiescently. “Promise you won’t laugh if I say something sappy?”
“Baby, I live for sappy comments,” Peter insisted, totally earnest despite the somewhat ridiculous sound of his husky, two-octaves-lower-than-usual ‘I’m trying too hard to be romantic’ voice.
“I’m…really glad you decided not to take Rocket’s advice and cheat your way out of ineligibility,” Gamora admitted. “Because if you hadn’t come to tutoring…”
“I never would have. I’ve been in love with you for way too long to ever pass up a chance to shoot my shot,” Peter replied softly, squeezing her shoulder.
“And I’m equally glad that we got over whatever weird issue we were having,” she added. “You know, during that whole time we weren’t talking.”
“That was four months of pure misery,” Peter agreed. “I can’t believe I almost didn’t fix that before it was too late. Thanks for not letting me be an idiot about it anymore, and…” he trailed off.
“Yes?” Gamora asked.
“And thank you for New Year’s Eve.”
“Oh, Peter…” she sighed. “You don’t think I’d been fighting the urge to do that since the day you brought me a latte?”
“Uh, no,” he confessed. “I thought you hated me until State Championships.”
“That was a cover. You really are oblivious…”
“Yeah, uh, you have to actually tell me if you, y’know, like me.” He glanced fondly at her for a fleeting second. “But at least I know now.”
“Sure, but you know my dad’s going to kill us when he finds out, right?” Gamora said, staring into space again.
“I can take a few stab wounds for you,” Peter announced theatrically. “There is nothing that, for love, I will not endure-“
“The last time Nebula had the audacity to so much as go to junior prom with a date, dad almost ran him down with his golf cart,” Gamora informed him. “I doubt you can-“
“Please. I can outrun a golf cart, no problem,” Peter reassured her.
“It’s this souped-up golf cart with a sports-car engine that he spent half my college fund on,” Gamora said. “I highly doubt that.”
“Well, I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it.” Peter shrugged. “I’m not letting him or anything else take you from me.”
“I’m serious, Peter. I don’t know if we can keep this up once he finds out,” Gamora sighed, her voice tinged with worry.
“No.” Peter tightened his grip on her waist. “I’ve loved you for four years and for three and a half of those, I thought you’d never so much as look my way. And now you’re my girlfriend for real – never gonna get sick of saying that – so you’re insane if you think I’m going to let you go because your father might try to kill me with a golf cart.” He paused to catch his breath. “Even if it’s the freakin’ Maserati of golf carts and very legitimatelycould kill me.”
“Peter…”
“No.”
“All right, but don’t say I didn’t warn you,” Gamora conceded.
Maybe in a few months, he’d need to keep that in mind. But for now, looking up at the stars, Peter was convinced within an inch of his life that he’d never be without her if it took a thousand-mile walk over hot coals to stay at her side.