AVENGE THE FALLEN | AN ENDGAME READER INSERT STORY

part seven

It took a little over a day to realize that with your dad gone, you were in charge of the family. So you took on step one (Really it was the only thing you could think of doing. Your mind was a mess.) and started to cook a meal.

Cooking without Vision in the kitchen was strange, but you took it on, anyways. Everyone was barely hanging on, and each had lost someone incredibly close to them. But for you, Pepper was alive, and that was enough for now.

She helped you plate the food in the kitchen. The electricity was spotty; the end of the world was effecting pretty much everything.

But after a couple of hours, you were able to serve plates of food to every Avenger. No one wanted to eat, but no one complained when you handed out the plates.

The last three sat on the counter. Pepper pointed to one. "Did we make an extra?"

"No," you said.

You carried the plate into the workspace you'd given Rocket. He was sitting on a table, bent down, mumbling to himself.

"No, no... not good enough. Not good enough-"

You knocked on the door. His ears perked and he turned his head just enough to see you out of his peripheral vision.

"Brought you some food," you said.

He huffed. "Jus' sit it over there."

"Alright," you said. You placed it on the table and stood there awkwardly, watching him work.

The door behind you slid shut. Rocket sighed, realizing you were still there.

"How is it going?"

"S'going," he replied.

Ducking your head, you folded your fingers together. Sighing, you said, "Rocket, you and I don't know each other. I'm not... expecting you to be my friend or anything, I'm really not. It's just - I don't know. You saved my life out there the way my best friend typically does. It just- it's... I know you're all alone right now. But if my dad were here, he wouldn't let you feel out of the group. And I'm next in line to take lead here, whether I like it or not. Actually, there's a chance I gotta take the reigns here now."

Rocket sighed, deep in guilt. He put down the screwdriver that was in his hand. "Uh... can you give me a hand here?"

"Sure," you said, confused. But you approached him and took the screwdriver.

"Just screw this in here while I work on this part," he said. "Hold it still for me."

"Okay," you said.

A few moments went by in silence as you worked.

"You know, it would have been justified for you to tell me that there's a chance all my friends are dead, too," he said after a while.

"Yeah, I know." You gave a small smile. "I'm not the kind of person to make assumptions like that."

"Well," he said, "I was being kind of an a-hole."

"I know that, too."

"Right," he said, a bit of a smile in his voice.

A few more long minutes of silence.

"Did I do this right?" you asked, moving your hands.

"Perfect, actually," he said, "and I ain't the kinda guy to throw that word around much. Quill knows best. It's a miracle he was able to take care of the Milano before I came around."

"Who's Quill?" you asked.

"One of my friends. Uh, he's actually Terran like you."

"Really?" you asked.