MYSTERY OF LOVE || MARVEL AU

| two |

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"Shit!" I hiss, sucking on my injured finger.

Peter and I have been on the floor of the ship for hours, our limbs sore as we try to fix Quill's already old and beat up ship. Hours of Tony being incredibly exasperated with how terrible I am at following his instructions. 

Stark sighs through his nose, scrunching up his face, "Wrong wire, kid. I've said it three times,"

Peter looks over his shoulder, sweat dripping from his messy hair. 

"Could you say it a fourth time? Please?" He pulls the hem of his shirt over her face and dabs at the droplets. The words 'Lettuce: The Taste of Sadness' would've made me laugh if we weren't currently facing death head on.

Tony crumples a wad of paper into a ball and tosses it at Peter's head, "I thought you were the top of your class, Spidey?" He gestures vaguely to the region above my hovering hand. "The grey coated wire, just above (Y/N)'s pinky."

I don't move a muscle, providing Peter the visual he needs. I never really learned much about mechanics, and I never regretted that until now. Nothing I've been faced with, my powers, my training, has ever required me to fix the inner workings of a foreign spaceship. I've never even changed the oil in a car.

Peter maneuvers the rubber-coated pliers to the specified wire, and carefully, he twists the copper end onto the circuit. He squeezes his eyes shut, anticipating a zap of pain, but the circuit remains stable and silent. He pumps his fist in the air, nearly dropping the pliers on my fingers.

He giggles in relief, "Alright! I did it!" the teenager grins at me, obviously proud of himself.

He looks over his shoulder once more, "What next, Mr. Stark?"

Tony lifts his head from the back of the chair, twisting a drill bit between his fingers. "Don't get too excited, kid. It's- drumroll please..."

The ship is silent. I rub my eyes, fighting off a yawn.

Tony grins, "More wires. Easier to understand for you neanderthals I've entrusted with my safety," he said sarcastically. "The only red wire of the bunch, connect it to the same circuit."

Peter exhales in preparation, shaking out the tension in his arms. He seems just as nervous as I am. I know he has experience with repairing electronics, but repairing an alien ship is enough to stress anyone. He grips the red wire with the same pliers as before, executing the instructions perfectly. Pete grins as we wait for something to happen, anything, to signal that we'd made progress. Nothing.

Voices travel from the cockpit, and I look over just in time to see Nebula smack Quill on the back of the head. They bicker quietly as he holds his sore head with his free hand. I grin smugly. I'm starting to like Nebula more and more. I shift my focus back to Tony.

"What broke again?" I ask, scratching my head.

He ran a hand over his face. "That would be the heating system," he tapped the table with the drill bit, "In other words, we're space popsicles if you guys don't do this right."

I groan in aggravation. Judging by Quill's general carelessness, I'm not too surprised that his ship is falling apart at the seams. It would just be nice if he could offer any help, instead of sitting in the cockpit pretending to pilot us towards Earth.

"Where'd you get this ship, Quill, a McDonald's truck stop?" I raise my voice to make sure he hears.

His posture deflates as he scoffs, his gloved hands gripping the controls, "Don't forget, I'm the one flying us off of that wasteland of a planet!" He calls over his shoulder.