With Gamora and Charlie switching on navigation and Peter and Rocket continuously arguing over who was the pilot and co-pilot for the hour, they got the Milano going in the direction of Sovereign.

They traveled through only a few systems a day, considering they had a human and a half-human with them, which meant the risk for hyperspace jumping was heightened in their cases. It would take a week or maybe less to reach the planet. 

In that time, Rocket was devising new technology for the team. He understood, after some research on the Abilisk, that it was several hundreds of feet taller than he was. He went to work on building, 'jet pack lookin' things' for the team.

Charlie took his spot as copilot. She leaned on the chair, watching the swirls of bright, eccentric colors fly past as the Milano cut through systems to reach Sovereign in record time.

Peter's hands rested on her waist. He put his head next to hers, leaning into her body, fitting them together like the puzzle pieces they were.

"Doing okay?" wondered Peter softly.

"Same as always," whispered Charlie. "I'm preparing myself for this."

"It's not like you're gonna do much fighting, anyway. I thought this time you could leave the fighting to the big guns."

Charlie tensed. She wiggled and she squirmed until Peter released his hold on her. She turned to face him, her face scrunched with criticism. She didn't have to say anything for him to understand the effect of what he had uttered.

Peter sighed, shaking his head. "No, baby. No. I mean, like, you're only human and--"

"--So were you until about six months ago," snapped Charlie. "You don't get to dictate my ability here. I know you're worried, Peter. I know you want to protect me. But I've spent years in the galaxy without your worry and nothing bad has happened."

"'Nothing bad'?" repeated Peter. "'Nothing bad'? Did we miraculously forget the bar fight you got us into?"

Charlie groaned. "That was seven years ago!"

"And you lie when you say your hand doesn't still hurt!"

"It doesn't!"

Peter's mouth dropped. "You were frickin' stabb-"

Rocket's familiar rhythmic clicks of his paws pounding against the floor alerted the fighting couple to stop yelling. They turned to face the doorway of the cockpit, fake smiles on their faces to assure everything was okay for the moment.

"Hey, guys," said Rocket, shoving a compact tech square into each of their hands. "Prototype. Try 'em out for me?"

Charlie examined the device in her hand. "'Prototype,' Rocket, that would be the key word. Which means there's a high chance of failure."

Rocket blinked at her slowly. He then grinned, as if he had winked successfully, then said, "Nothing bad will happen! They're my work, anyway."

"Did you just try to w--" started Peter, but Charlie brushed a finger over his lips to hush him.

"Let's talk to the Sovereign leader, first, then we can explore the planet and use those?" suggested Charlie.

"Sounds like a plan," sighed Peter.

Rocket climbed up the side of the copilot chair to see the galaxy as it passed by. He stood, balancing himself on Charlie's shoulder. He hadn't noticed his tail wrap around her neck, too.

Peter felt himself smile as he watched Rocket and Charlie speak. Rocket was nicer to her, for whatever reason. He leaned on her and she was the first person he came to when he made a new gadget and he was defensive over her when they walked along new planets. Something had connected them, more so than the other Guardians. He didn't tolerate Charlie; he liked her.

To see how comfortable his fiance had gotten with each Guardian, and to see how they reacted with her, made all the years of her heartbreak about feeling alone worth it. She found a home with Peter, but, more importantly, she found the thing she had been looking for since they left Earth: a family.

"Peter? Petey?" asked Charlie.

"Quill!" screamed Rocket, and the man jumped out of his head and back into his body.

Peter widened his eyes. "Yeah, yeah. I'm sorry. I'm here."

"What did you want for dinner?" wondered Charlie.

Over Charlie's turned head, Rocket mouthed the words, 'lasagna' over and over with his hands cupped around his mouth to emphasize his wish.

Peter, as many others could say, was not good at reading lips. He furrowed his brow at Rocket, head turned, to which Rocket threw his hands up in protest and shivered with irritation.

Charlie looked above her head at Rocket, who sheepishly grinned, then  scooped Rocket from her shoulder  cuddled him in her arms. She laughed joyously and deeply as he started to wiggle out of her arms, but he wasn't trying at all, not really. He didn't when she picked him up-- less walking on his legs.

"What do you want to eat, hon?" wondered Charlie.

"Lasagna," said Rocket shyly.

"Then lasagna it is," decided Charlie.

She went into the kitchen, moving him from her arms and onto her shoulder. He climbed over each shoulder before he found a comfortable position and took a seat to watch her make it.

"You miss it, don't you?" wondered Charlie as she started to heat the oven.

Peter danced around her to set the table.

"Miss what?" asked Rocket.

"Having Groot be taller than you," said Charlie.

Rocket shrugged. "Sometimes. But you're my replacement. I don't miss it too much."

"I'll take that as a compliment," agreed Charlie, smiling.

Charlie and Rocket conversed about odds and ends--mostly about how Rocket's attitude needed to change around royalty-- and she cooked while he tried to pretend like he wasn't excited about it. Several dozens of times since she first made it, he had hinted for it, and it was the first time since then she agreed to make it.

Peter sat at their kitchen table, at the head, and observed the two. He couldn't help the waning smile on his face while he watched. To him, Charlie was his home and his family, his whole world-- but he couldn't fathom that idea entirely.

For him, there was going to be a piece missing so long as he didn't know his father. The family vibe is one he hadn't felt since his mother died. How easily Charlie fell in love with their friends was not the same approach Peter took to the Guardians. He cared for them, but seeing himself finding a family within them and feeling complete... That was a challenge in itself.

Charlie and Rocket's conversation expanded to involve Peter. Again, he was lost in his head, and he missed his cue into the conversation which prompted, not a yell, but a full fledged jump from Charlie's shoulder to Peter's head by Rocket.

Peter freaked, naturally, and jumped out of his skin. His flinch sent Rocket flinching himself. He managed to catch himself on the chair and sit properly, like Charlie taught him.

"Stay off my head, rat!" snapped Peter, pointing angrily.

"Stop it," scolded Charlie. She had a bowl of garlic bread she was going to set down. She hovered it, instead. "Apologize or none of you will get them."

"I'm sorry, rode..." started Peter, reaching for a piece of bread. Charlie pulled it away and raised her eyebrow. "I'm sorry, Rocket."

"I'm sorry, Quill," said Rocket calmly.

He swiped a piece of garlic bread and was even rewarded a scratch between his ear before Charlie left for the kitchen. He took a massive bite into the bread, garlic lining his fur, and said, "See? How hard is it to fake it? Lord, Quill."

"Charlie!" yelled Peter, pointing wildly at the raccoon. "He's being an a-hole! Charlie!"

Charlie said nothing, prompting Peter to get up and hustle into the kitchen to rat out the rodent for foul pay. Peter loved food, which had him understanding Rocket's insincere apology little, but not when it came to the love of his life.

Rocket shoved the rest of his garlic bread into his mouth and used all four of his legs to chase after Peter. He leaped, hooking his claws into Peter's pant leg, but he lost the grip when Peter skidded around the corner into the kitchen.

Charlie wasn't in there. She had entered the cockpit, along with Gamora, Drax, and Baby Groot to peer outside of the windshield as a blue speck, the Sovereign planet, came into better sight.

Peter stopped swiping at Rocket when he came to stand next to Charlie. She barely noticed his presence when he stood by her; her focus was on the planet, excitedly, preparing herself for action she hadn't seen in six months.

The raccoon leaped over Peter's shoulder and slid into the pilots seat to call it before Peter had the chance to. Knowing this, he stuck his tongue out at Peter, to which Peter held up a certain finger.

"We're here," said Charlie. A grin started to spread across her face as she looked at Peter, a dangerous, careless attitude threatening to peep out. "It's showtime."