Peter Quill (aka, Star-Lord) (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
d1ckm3ss4g3) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
itinere2017-08-22 09:05 pm
d1ckm3ss4g3) wrote in itinere2017-08-22 09:05 pm
Entry tags:
OTA
"No, seriously! He says he's a planet!"
His voice carries across the room, louder than he initially intended but still filled with every bit of that flabbergast feeling that's been nagging at him since Ego stepped foot outside of the round, white spaceship and declared himself Peter's dad. He's not exactly sure how many days that's been now, though he's half convinced that it's probably a lifetime ago. There had been some time spent traveling from Berhert. And it had to have been at least a day on Ego's planet. How many since he stumbled into this tropical paradise? That's where Peter really lost count.
He hadn't exactly planned to spend most of it hitting up every bar and establishment he could find. That's the kind of thing that just happens. Used to happen a whole lot more before the Guardians of the Galaxy and a shitload of responsibility fell on his shoulders. Whatever door he had wandered through to find himself in this place wouldn't open. And Quill had tried: pulling on the knob multiple times, kicking it hard enough to cause pain to radiate up his leg, even blasting the damn thing. Eventually, he had just given up, slipped his headphones back on, and pressed play on the Walkman. Then he had set off to explore whatever planet he had magically found himself on.
"A planet," Peter continues, ignoring any response the bartender might have had to his story. He takes another long gulp of his beer and shakes his head. Man, were situations reversed, Peter probably wouldn't believe it either. And, oh god-- "Fucking Drax wanted to know how he..." Peter trains off, grimacing with disgust. "My mom and a planet!"
Disgusting. Absolutely disgusting. The words "mom" and "sex" never belong in the same sentence.
He takes another swig and sighs. He props his elbow on the edge of the bar top, forehead resting in his palm. This is what he needed. Not Drax's perverse questions or Gamora's skepticism or his dad showing off his own personal Garden of Eden. This is what he needs: good beer and a non-opinionated ear to talk to. Yeah, Quill's not going to question how or why he found himself in this place. He's just thankful to be here. Draining the last of the pint, he places the glass down with a satisfying thud. "I need another."
His voice carries across the room, louder than he initially intended but still filled with every bit of that flabbergast feeling that's been nagging at him since Ego stepped foot outside of the round, white spaceship and declared himself Peter's dad. He's not exactly sure how many days that's been now, though he's half convinced that it's probably a lifetime ago. There had been some time spent traveling from Berhert. And it had to have been at least a day on Ego's planet. How many since he stumbled into this tropical paradise? That's where Peter really lost count.
He hadn't exactly planned to spend most of it hitting up every bar and establishment he could find. That's the kind of thing that just happens. Used to happen a whole lot more before the Guardians of the Galaxy and a shitload of responsibility fell on his shoulders. Whatever door he had wandered through to find himself in this place wouldn't open. And Quill had tried: pulling on the knob multiple times, kicking it hard enough to cause pain to radiate up his leg, even blasting the damn thing. Eventually, he had just given up, slipped his headphones back on, and pressed play on the Walkman. Then he had set off to explore whatever planet he had magically found himself on.
"A planet," Peter continues, ignoring any response the bartender might have had to his story. He takes another long gulp of his beer and shakes his head. Man, were situations reversed, Peter probably wouldn't believe it either. And, oh god-- "Fucking Drax wanted to know how he..." Peter trains off, grimacing with disgust. "My mom and a planet!"
Disgusting. Absolutely disgusting. The words "mom" and "sex" never belong in the same sentence.
He takes another swig and sighs. He props his elbow on the edge of the bar top, forehead resting in his palm. This is what he needed. Not Drax's perverse questions or Gamora's skepticism or his dad showing off his own personal Garden of Eden. This is what he needs: good beer and a non-opinionated ear to talk to. Yeah, Quill's not going to question how or why he found himself in this place. He's just thankful to be here. Draining the last of the pint, he places the glass down with a satisfying thud. "I need another."
no subject
She's just discovered that her house, minus Rory but including Paul Anka, has somehow been transported here. It's sort of the straw that broke the camel's back. She walks into the bar, smacks her hands on the bar top and says, "bring me a coffee. Wait. No. Tequila. Bring me a shot of tequila. Momma needs some sanity."
That's when she looks to her right to see Peter sitting there. She looks back to the bartender. "Two shots of tequila, please. Sanity, it's hard to find." Back to Peter. "Hello, Stranger. Or I've actually lost my mind and you'r ea hallucination, which as far as hallucinations go, it's not a bad one."
no subject
Damn responsibility.
He's so caught up in his rant that he doesn't pay attention when the door opens. In fact, he doesn't really notice Lorelai until she's sitting next to him and saying hello. He blinks, having spent the last three months of his life half-convinced that Aisling was a strange (but awesome) dream, and then looks at the bartender. "Maybe that four shots. My tab."
He gives Lorelai a toothy grin. "There's no real currency here. He lets me pay in Skittles." He pauses for a moment, eyebrows raising. "I'm kind of hoping you're not hallucinating cause if you're hallucinating, then I'm hallucinating, and that would suck."
no subject
Going home is definitely the responsible thing and Lorelai is feeling that pull of home as well simply because of Rory. She has to remind herself that Rory is at Yale and doesn't need her, right? Yeah, she's doing a bang up job of convincing herself of that.
Well, now he's just hurting her feelings. She didn't think she was so forgettable. However, when she sees that spark of recognition, she forgives him. She'd gone back to Stars Hollow for a few weeks after Aisling. It had been a relatively calm few weeks in contrast to Peter's time back home.
"Seems like a pretty good deal. I'll have to work out a kind of currency," she quips. "Oh good. You do remember me. You had me worried there for a second."
no subject
Listening to the snippets of the patron's outlandish story, Duke can't help but shake his head and smirk. Everyone has problems. He's good at listening to them. He'd learned the art of listening and paying attention a long time ago. He's wondering how much truth there is to the story. Other planets exist. He gets that. But... outlandish.
When another drink is ordered, he takes the empty, wipes down the counter and then pours another pint to set in front of the guy. "This place is like a vacation from life so far." Or death, in Duke's case. "So at least you know you're in the right place for the break you seem to need, yeah?"
no subject
The guy's a planet, for crying out loud!
Maybe it's best not to think of that right now. Focus on the present, the conversation at hand and all of that. Or the beer. Definitely the beer. He takes a swig. "I was in a place like that a couple of months ago."