DESTINY CALLS • Anakin Skywalker.

☆ SIX: snitches get stitches... and wet dreams.

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ sɪx

A/N: Surprise! It's Sunday—Not Monday, or Tuesday. Anakin is a little dark this chapter, but not in the way you may be thinking... Or maybe you are catching onto me and I'm a silly goose.

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I blink against the harsh fluorescent lights.

Machines beep rhythmically around me, a symphony of my own fragility. I shift slightly, wincing as the stitches in my side pull tight. Great, just what I needed—another reminder that I'm not invincible.

Turning my head, I spot Drax perched awkwardly on a chair beside me, his massive frame comically oversized for the flimsy hospital furniture.

"You're awake," Drax observes, his deep voice resonating through the sterile room.

"Yeah," I urge myself to reply, my voice raspy. I pause for a moment, looking around, trying to find some sort of bottled water for my throat. Luckily for me, there is none, so I sigh. "How long was I out for?"

"Three days," he states matter-of-factly. "The medical personnel said you required extensive healing."

I nod slowly, absorbing the information. "Thank you for staying, Drax."

Drax's brow furrows, his eyes locking onto mine with an intensity that makes me squirm. "You're the closest thing I have to a family," he says gruffly. "Do not thank me."

A lump forms in my throat, unexpected and unwelcome. I force a smirk, trying to lighten the mood. "Well, aren't you a big softie?"

He huffs, crossing his arms over his chest. "I do not possess softness."

"Sure, keep telling yourself that," I tease, settling back against the pillows. The dull ache in my side is a small price to pay for moments like this—a reminder that even in the chaos of our lives, we find family in the most unexpected places.

Even when telling myself that, I can't believe Grandpa kicked my ass.

Drax tilts his head, his expression serious. "We are a team. It is only logical to remain by your side until you are fully functional again."

A small smile tugs at my lips. "Logical, huh?"

"Yes," he affirms. "Also, Rocket said it was my turn to watch over you. He mentioned something about 'pulling his weight.'"

I chuckle softly, the movement causing a twinge of pain in my side. "Sounds like Rocket."

Drax leans forward, his expression earnest. "Do you require sustenance? The food here is... adequate."

"I'm not really hungry," I admit. "Just tired."

He nods, settling back into the chair with a creak of protest from the metal frame. "Rest is essential for recovery. I will ensure no harm comes to you while you sleep."

"No— I've slept enough," I say, trying to keep my voice steady, "could you stay with me for a bit? I... I really just don't want to be alone right now."

Drax's expression softens, and he leans forward slightly. "Of course. I will remain here as long as you require."

The door slams open before I can reply, and Peter bursts in. "Alright, I'm here. No need to worry, people, Star-Lord is in the building," Peter announces, his footsteps resonating throughout the entire room. "Elena! Okay, I have your favorite stuffed animal, a bottle of water— with lemon, and two large ice cubes, just how you like, and most importantly I brought the Zune."