Title: Kiss The Girl

Paring: Peter Quill X Reader

Warnings: cutesy fluff, singing, lyrics from The Little Mermaid (1989).

Spoilers: yes! Please don't spoil the new Guardians of The Galaxy by reading what I've written. Or do. I'm not in charge of you.

Author's Note: This was a request from a friend on AO3, who likes Peter Quill.

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Sliding into the cockpit, you're met with glances and hums from the team. While you travel with the Guardians of the Galaxy, you are no warrior. Worrier, yes. But that was because your life partner was none other than Star Lord, who always liked to keep you on your toes. But once in the cockpit, you see that Gamora is sitting in Peter's pilot seat, beside co-pilot Rocket, who doesn't look up. The Trash Panda is probably miffed that you're better than him at cards. But he shakes her purple hair once, and gestures up. The bunks. You nod your thanks, and follow the trail to where your stubble-ridden funk-loving boyfriend might be.

You pass Drax by the kitchen, but the big guy hasn't seen Peter, not since he started his after-dinner feast ("You better not eat my crisps, Drax," you warn The Destroyer, who pledges to leave your chips unharmed). Groot is hanging out in the gallery, where you make art, playing around in by the paint pots by the canvases on the floor. Carefully, you move the paint as to not allow the not so colossal Flora Colossus to drown in the paint.

By the time you navigate around the boxes of bombs and other explosives Rocket has left out on the floor by the stairs to the bunks, you can take in the guy you like so much. Pete lays on his bed, fully-clothed in his big coat and boots, headphones in. He's still bummed about losing the tape deck on the last battle, but you can tell he's not too upset about having new songs on the Zune. He's been singing songs you haven't heard before, dancing around like he used to. But there's a tiredness in his eyes, these days. It comes with having to deal with all the things Peter has had to deal.

"Found you," you breathe.

Even though your voice is barely a whisper, Peter turns his head to look to you, taking out an earbud. He's got that dreamy look in his eyes, that means he's beyond tired – perhaps it's the lack of sleep he's running on, or the fact he's lost two fathers less than a month ago, or that you can't remember the last time he came to you with the thoughts that plagued his mind. Slowly, he turns over on the bed, so he's on his tummy, eyes still on you as you enter the bunks. This is your shared room – the other Guardians sleep elsewhere, but here, it's your space.

"You okay, Pete?" you whisper, kneeling at the edge of the bed. Plucking the remaining earbud from his ear, you let the song play itself out on the bedspread, faded against the hums and whirrs of the ship around you. "You can tell me the truth. I won't bite."

He scrunches up his nose. "Last time someone said that to me, they bit me," there's the jokey humour you fell for, but instead of it being in geniality, it's a pretence you can see through the mask of as easily as ever. "...________ –,"

You nod, placing your head upon the bed, inches away from Peter's face. "Yeah?"

"I don't think I'm okay," he whispers. You move onto the bed, sitting so that as he turns to lay on his back again, his head rests upon your leg. "I miss him."

You lean down, and lay a kiss upon your boyfriend's forehead. "Life just isn't the same without Yondu, Peter. You know that more than anyone, and...I wish I could do something to help. I don't know – I was abducted before any of my family got the chance to die, back on Earth. I don't know how to grieve. Tell me what I can do to help you."

"Could you – could you sing me a song?" Peter asks.

You kiss his nose, and nod. "Sure, but in return, do you think you can promise me that you'll get some sleep tonight?" Fishing behind the pillow, you pluck out your nightclothes, and stand to change before your boyfriend. The pair of you never had a trouble with undressing in front of one another, and as always, Peter takes in your body with admiration, and respect. "... preferably beside me."

Peter cocks a smile, his eyes full of stars. "Of course."

Stepping into the pyjama bottoms, you frown, and remember a handful of words. "In the town, where I was born -,"

Peter's laugh interrupts you. "Please! No more!" he protests. The last time The Beatles were brought out, it ended with a drunken sing-along which left most of the team dizzy days afterward, and Drax humming the lyrics for weeks. "I just got that one out of my head."

You grin. "I was just messing with you. Okay, for real this time, I'm singing." You laugh, and poke your head through the button up shirt you wear to bed. It's got a pattern of stars and moons on it. You take a seat on the ground, leaning against the bed mattress. "This was my favourite when I was a little girl."

He cracks a small smile, probably anticipating something straight from the works of Aesop, and places his hands under his head, eyes closed to enjoy the sound of your voice. "I'm ready."

You smirk back at your boyfriend, even though he can't see you from where you are. "There you see her, sitting there across the way, she don't got a lot to say, but there's something about her..." you smile, remembering about how you met Peter. All you wanted to do was read your comic, but you had been kids, and Peter just wanted to talk to another Terran. "And you don't know why, but you're dying to try - you wanna kiss the girl."

The bed dips above your head, and glancing up, you see Peter and a teasing gaze. "I don't know if that's true..."

You shake your head, reaching up to stroke his stubble. "Yes, you want her, look at her, you know you do...possible she want you too...there is one way to ask her. It don't take a word, not a single word. Go on and kiss the girl."

Peter grins, and leans down to kiss you face down. But ducking down to miss his lips, you leap onto your feet. He protests, but you go on –

"Sing with me now!" you laugh, dancing around the space before the bed like the animals did in the 1989 feature film. "Sha-la-la-la-la-la my oh my, look like the boy too shy, ain't gonna kiss the girl!" you tease, and coming to your knees before were he lays, take in those baby blues of his. "Sha-la-la-la-la-la ain't it sad, ain't it a shame, too bad...he gonna miss the girl."

"No, I'm not," he whispers.

He takes a hand behind your head, and cradling you, goes to kiss you. But before he can make his lips meet yours, you continue the song. "Now's your moment, floating in the blue lagoon. Boy, you better do it soon, no time will be better!" you smirk, pulling away from his embrace. As you do, you take the lapels of his coat in your hands, pulling him to stand up, "She don't say a word, and she won't say a word, until you kiss the girl!"

Peter nods, and taking off his jacket, gets what the words are coming at, "Okay, so what've I got to do again?" he asks.

"Sha-la-la-la-la-la don't be scared – you got the mood prepared, go on and kiss the girl!" you tell him, watching as Peter puts his coat away, and starts undressing for bed into his nightclothes. "Sha-la-la-la-la-la don't stop now, don't try to hide it, how? You wanna kiss the girl."

Peter goes to dance with you, but you grab his pants by the belt loops, and pull him forward. He doesn't seem to expect it, or maybe he's too tired to, "Woah! Woah."

You take his hands in yours, positioning like you remember your parents dancing in the kitchen back on Earth to the radio. "Sha-la-la-la-la-la float along, and listen to the song...the song say, kiss the girl." Your hands leave his, and go to take off his shirt.

Peter's cheeks reddened, "Woah, woah," he whispers, and grinning, strips down to his boxers.

"Sha-la-la-la-la-la music play, do what the music say: you wanna kiss the girl." You sing, your head resting on his shoulder, the words barely coming out as whispers. "You got to, kiss the girl. Why don't you –,"

"Kiss the girl," he murmurs back to you.

"Go on, you gotta kiss the girl," you reply, and standing to your full height, kiss your boyfriend on the corner of his mouth. "Did you like that song?"

Peter nods. "It's nice. What's it from?"

Your eyes widen, disbelieving. "You don't know The Little Mermaid?" you gape, aghast at Peter. "It was practically my childhood. I always wanted to have a fish's tail because of her." A beat passes, and you remember, your face falling. "It came out a year after..."

He shrugs, indifferent. "I don't care, it's a nice song. Even nicer that you sang it."

"You're too kind, Peter," you grin. "Now, are you going to catch some sleep with me now?"

Peter agrees, "Of course, Babe," he places a kiss by your ear, and another on your nose. "I love you."

"Yeah? Well, I love you too."