Title: Life Can Only Be Understood Backwards

Paring: Peter Quill X Reader

Warnings: mentions alien abductions, and angst and a lil bit of fluff

Spoilers: Not really. I watched Guardians of The Galaxy Vol. 2 , but there are absolutely no spoilers in here. I mention Baby Groot, but we've all seen him in the trailers. 

Sequel: Yes! Jump onward to But It Must Be Lived Forwards for part two!

Author's Note: Last night I went out to see the late night viewing of it with my sister, and I felt the need this morning to get out my feelings in fic. This is set after the last movie, and before the new one. Anyways! On with the fic!

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Your heart is racing even before you open your eyes. It's like you know you're not in your bed, surrounded by your nerd paraphernalia in the college dorms, hell, it's like you know you're not even on the same planet as Earth's Mightiest Heroes. Maybe that's because you can smell something that's completely not of Earth, and can hear chatter that sounds just so alien. When you do open your eyes, it's like you've woken up somewhere amidst a Star Trek convention – standing above you are figures that look like masterpieces of an over-timing makeup department and CGI. But they're all real, because the blue man with a metal headpiece is staring deep into your soul, his mouth agape to show jagged teeth.

"She's awake," His voice sounds like it's from the south, but his body just reminds you of frat boys who paint themselves for big games. Your heart hasn't stopped it's thumping, and almost whimpering, he sees how afraid he is. "Damn, someone get Quill before this Terran frightens herself to death."

You swallow, wondering what a quill was, and if by 'Terran', he meant you, because honestly, you felt like this was a major drug dream. Wondering if your roommate had dosed you on acid, you see a human-looking guy appear, slightly older than you.

"Hey, hey, don't freak out," he bends, kneeling to your height, his hands raised. "I'm Peter. Peter Quill. You're probably –," He pauses, and shoots the aliens and creatures around him a glare, "Can we have some space? Yondu?"

The blue man, Yondu, nods. "C'mon boys, fun's over. Leave these Terran's to their talk."

The crowd dissipates, leaving you and the guy named Peter there on the floor of what seems to be a real clunker of an area. "Where am I?" You ask him. "I – I was at college yesterday, I went to sleep in my bed, but –," you catch your breath, eyes flittering over the area you're in. "This is a dream. A prank. Did Lincoln put you up to this?" You demand, sitting up.

Peter shakes his head. "I don't know anyone who's called Lincoln, unless you're talking about Abraham," he cracks a little smile. "We intercepted a ship who had, ah, abducted you. You're not on Earth anymore."

Your heart skips a beat. Well, that was confirmed, then. "If I'm not on Earth, where am I?" You ask him. "Don't tell me I'm on the moon. I'm not up for any Doctor Who crap."

The little smile on his face widens. "I remember that show! It's still running?" He asks you.

You blink. "I've just been abducted, by aliens, am currently at pissing-my-pants scared, and you, are asking me if a British TV show is still running?" You state the facts. "Yeah, it's still running. They're up to the twelfth doctor now." You take a shaky breath, and add, "I'm _________. We're in a spaceship, aren't we?"

He grins, and extending a hand, adds, "Great to meet you, _______. If you'd like to come with me, I'm going to take you to a, ah, less crowded place." Standing, you follow him on unsteady legs from the place you had woken up, traversing the halls of the spaceship behind his footfall. "I was abducted, back when I was a kid. I grew up out here, with Yondu and everyone. I guess that's a terrible way to relate to another person, but, hey, it's all we've got to go on." He flashes you a sad smile over his shoulder. "Ah! Here we are. Gamora, she's awake!"

As if you'd not had a terrible enough day already, you had to be introduced to more aliens. In the room, were the most rag-tag band of people – well, two of them looked like people. One looked like one of the trash pandas who'd rummage through your mother's garbage at home, and the other like a little sprout...like a tree man. Baby. The lady with green skin, and purple hair eyes you, almost inspecting every molecule you're made of before she strides forward to shake your hand.

"I am Gamora," she nods, "It's not like we needed another mouth to feed, but you look like you are a fighter, and are welcome here."

You feel your face pale, your hand slackening in her grip. "Fighter? I did not sign up for this shit, I'm terrible at fighting!" You turn to Peter, a panic falling over you. "I'm studying theoretic physics, not intergalactic Fight Club!"

"Ha!" The man the colour of a pale chalk board covered in red markings belted out a laugh which almost made you pee a little in fright. "This is a woman of honour, revealing her strengths! I like her."

The raccoon gave him a side-eye glare. "Shut it, Drax."

You take a deep breath, but Peter Quill interrupts you, butting in. "Will everyone just take a breath, and maybe give _______ some space?" He turns to you, and gives a sad smile. "We're leaving Yondu's ship in the morning, but before we can drop you back home, we've got a mission that needs completing."

The little tree person nods. "I am Groot."

The racoon rolls his eyes. "What do you mean, if she even wants to go home? Of course she does, she's quaking in her bunny slippers."

You can't help but glance down at that, but you're not wearing bunny slippers. You're not even wearing shoes. Just fluffy bed socks, and the oversized Stevie Wonder shirt you wear to bed. How on Earth did you get abducted by aliens and all that shit in your pyjamas?

"I am Groot!" He intones.

"It doesn't matter if she looks like a good place for a nap," He translates, sounding irritated. "Oh, so now I'm not the person you like napping on now. Fine. Nap on someone your own size."

The pair of them walk off, leaving you, Quill, Gamora and Drax standing there. "By fighter, you didn't mean like, a hero for hire sort of thing, did you?" you ask Gamora, breaking the silence that was left without the bickering twig and raccoon. "I'm sorry I overreacted, I'm just, like, really scared right now. Wish I had my iPod." You add, thinking of the 250 tracks on your laptop back in the dorm room.

"iPod? Sounds like an escape mechanism." Drax muses. "I should like to get one of those. Then I will be able to escape all danger with it."

You clear your throat. "No – it's more like, ah, portable music. A Walkman?" Under your breath, you add, "These guys are from outer space, nobody has a Walkman out here."

Peter grins. "I do! I have two tapes."

____

It's eight months later when you realise that you still haven't been delivered back to your boring old life back on Earth. But you've been busy, flying around outer space with the guys who everyone calls The Guardians of The Galaxy (pretty bomb-ass name, - better than The Avengers, but that was you probably being biased because they'd destroyed your favourite café in the Battle of New York), kicking ass, taking names.

You're more like the planner for their missions – while they're just doing hero stuff, you're organising their schedules, making sure The Milano doesn't run out of fuel, cleaning Drax's knives after battles, putting all the bombs and doodads Rocket leaves out away in their place. You even take care of Gamora, making sure she's okay with all the nightmares of Thanos, and eating right.

It's a long shot from theoretical physics, but when you're not the Team Mom™ you're working out equations with textbooks you find at junker stops, and papers that alien academics had written on the subject (thank goodness someone invented translation devices, because otherwise you'd be left staring at scribbles all day). If you ever make it back to Earth, you're sure going to give the scientists Dr Banner and Stark a run for their money.

But at the moment, the team are between missions, and you're lying on the lounge with Quill, sharing an earbud each to listen to his tunes. They're old, but you're not complaining. It's not like you miss modern music, it's all just the same riffs anyways.

"Sorry we never got around to bring you back home to Earth," he turns to you just as the song Mr. Blue Sky ends. "Not to brag or anything, but the team is much better with you around."

You can't help but laugh. "'Not to brag' ... dude, you realise that every time you start a sentence with that, you're bragging?"

Peter chuckles at that. "Yeah, I guess so." He glances to the tape, and pausing the next track before it begins, he sits up a little. "Don't like, deck me, but it's great having you out here with us, and youdon'teverhavetoleaveifyoudon'twantto."

You frown. "What? I didn't catch that."

He sighs. "_______, you don't ever have to leave if you don't want to. I'd miss you a heap if you left, and that's saying something because a butt-load of people I know have left me and I didn't really miss them until too late. And you're cool and stuff, and make jokes and you're like, super smart."

"Is this you coming onto me, Peter?" You're half incredulous, because you've seen how smooth he is with other people and flirtation. "Or are you just listing all my good attributes like, like a job offer, or something?"

He nods. "Something like that."

You can't help but laugh. "I don't think there was ever really a place for me back on Earth. I had to fight for everything as best as I could to get where I needed to be, and even then, I couldn't stop fighting until I got it. Hell, even my own parents decided my brother was better than me, and so I did all I could to beat him and get into the best college in the country, get the best marks. But no, he was still the golden boy." You grit out. It's been a while since you've dwelled about life before you were abducted, but once you're starting, you can't seem to stop. "If anything, I've really found something worth it out here. And I don't have to compete. I'm just ... me."

Peter looks almost relieved at your words. "That's rough, buddy."

You laugh. "Nice Avatar reference, Star-Lord. But I still want to go to Earth. Just, you know, grab a fresh change of clothes, give my parents the middle-finger, pick up my limited-edition comics." You skip a beat, and add, "You can even get some more tunes!"

He hesitates. "I...I never told you how I was abducted, did I?"

You shake your head. "I took it as a no-go zone."

Peter takes a deep breath. "Yondu picked me up on Earth on the day that my mother died. Ever since, I've just thought of it as the place where she died, but ... if I go back there, I know I'm going to be disappointed."

You frown, your hand seeking out his to hold it. "How so?"

"Because ... nobody will remember her like I do. She'll just be, you know ... another grave in the ground." Your hand tightens around his, and he squeezes back. "I know, sounds pathetic."

You shake your head. "No, it doesn't. It's like ... I know how it feels. When my brother drowned, everyone mourned like they'd lost the moon, like it was gone, no more moon. I realised that when he died, that I was the asshole because all he'd done was existed, and I'd done all I could to one-up him. It never worked, Peter," you tell him. "If I could go back in time, I'd just once sit down with him, and give him the biggest goddamned hug. It wasn't his fault he was loved. It wasn't my fault I wasn't."

You feel a tear fall from your eye, but before it can hit the lounge, Peter wipes it away. "Let's go back to Earth." He whispers. His face is so close to yours, you can count ever freckle, see every line on his face. "It's about damn time we get closure."

You sniffle, leaning your forehead against his, "Hear, hear."