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"Everything" had just... built up. One little thing after another; a slew of minor repairs and other small problems that seemed endless... until, finally, Rocket Raccoon - his small body shaking from, stress, exhaustion, being utterly worn out - crawled through a duct, into the strange human's room. The human, who was named David, had been reading a technical manual related to fixing computers--when suddenly Rocket was right there, at the foot of his bed, the little raccoon having dropped to the ground silently from the duct above. Human and Raccoon, nay, Raccoonoid, stared each other down; the little one's teeth bared in a snarl. 'Why the flarkin' hell did I even come here?!' Rocket thought, but then, he remembered everything the human had done, the tiny acts of kindness, the thoughtful gestures and soft-spoken words; not only for him, but also for the others as well. It wasn't an attempt to ingratiate himself with the Guardians; rather, everything the human did was just... genuine.

Rocket especially remembered the human's kindness towards him - kindness brushed off with his usual harsh manner, at first - the discreet concern when his implants ached; the many times he'd quietly asked if the raccoon needed anything at all; how often the human would happen to "coincidentally" pass by with some food, a snack, a tool that Rocket seemed to need at the time he needed it. He'd been suspicious, tried to find some hidden motive--but there was none; the humie was just... genuinely kind. The snarl disappeared from the raccoon's face, then, and he wiped his eyes with his hand-paws, even as they filled with tears, even as he cursed at himself internally for being so weak! Yet, as his breath hitched in a near silent sob, he knew the human wouldn't care, nor would he breathe a word to the others of the team.

Stumbling forward, Rocket fell against the human's bed as mental exhaustion overtook him... but then, soft hands gripped him, David lifting him with incredible gentleness onto the bed--and then he was set partly into it, his furred legs covered partly by the duvet as the human pulled it up, his back against the human's chest. Usually, Rocket loathed being touched due to his past... and yet somehow... where the other Guardians had failed abysmally, this one humie, this near stranger, this outsider... had succeeded in working his way through Rocket's defences.

Months and months of gentle 'accidental' or 'coincidental' touches and brushes of skin against fur as human and raccoon bustled here and there aboard the ship; helping Rocket to his feet when the Milano was rocked by turbulence or explosive. Explaining to Rocket why Mantis wanted to pet him; about nurturing instincts, social grooming, why many people thought Rocket was, yes, cute and adorable despite his attitude and personality; and that many, many Terrans and others, would find even that endearing, because he was so cute and adorable, he could get away with it!

Then getting Rocket used to simply being held; always with loose grip, always until the raccoon asked to be let go, and then letting him go immediately; building trust... Rocket knew what that crafty human was doing - he'd seen the texts about post-traumatic stress disorder, desensitization, reassociation, resocialization, and various therapies used for animals including... THOSE... ones he DEFINITELY WASN'T - on the human's laptop and David knew that Rocket knew... but flark it all, it was working! Rocket learned to put on a Mask; by day and when he was on mission, he was Old Rocket--the always pissed off, argumentative, explosive-loving Raccoon that everyone in the Galaxy knew; he doubled down on it.

But between missions - when he was back aboard the Milano with the other Guardians and David, off duty or taking a break between repair jobs - the young raccoon was definitely changed, calmer, more at peace and content with himself and who he was. Far less angry and argumentative, listening more, shouting less, "agreeing to disagree", walking away to think or work out a compromise when needed. And... at times, if New Rocket found himself leaning against Peter or Drax and they happened to touch or pet his head and ears - or if he happened to lay on a couch in such a way that his head coincidentally rested on Mantis' or Gamora's lap - he was okay with being pet, his eyes closing, a soft purr leaving him as his Teammates gently stroked his head and played with his ears. Only his Team and David could do this, it was his business, and everyone else could frag off!

That damned humie... David made sure Rocket ate better - the "talking that definitely wasn't therapy" eased away his nightmares and so he slept better, meaning he wasn't tired and thus was calmer when dealing with that bonehead Quill and whatever crazy plans he cooked up that might get them more units; hell, David often acted as a flarkin' mediator to reign in Quill's crazier plans and flarkin' insisted on getting correct and up to date intel for whatever missions they undertook, even the shadier ones; and he weren't no Nova Core Space Cop; he just wanted their missions to go off without a hitch--and more often than not, so long as he was involved they did!

As the exhausted, worn-out raccoon's thoughts returned to the present, a half-groan, half-whimper left the raccoon's lips and then he wept for real, silent, cathartic sobs as David stroked and caressed his headfur and ears, then gently scratched behind them to get that ITCH right THERE that had been flarkin' botherin' him for WEEKS...! Even as he petted Rocket, the human held him, too, murmured soothingly to him - that he shouldn't stress and overwork himself, that he ought to get more sleep! Pulling him back into his chest with a loose grip, David gently rested his head atop Rocket's as the raccoon's breath hitched with another sob...

... but soon, Rocket was groaning as the human's hands moved down his neck to his furred shoulders, those d'ast long pink fingers massaging away knots and tension, soothing away flarkin' PAIN-PAIN-PAIN he hadn't even known he had, a ragged cry escaping him as a fraggin' KNOT in his back that had been pressing against an implant for ages finally WENT then Rocket whimpered as David made the tiniest, gentlest adjustments to his biomechanical spine, massaging, soothing and realigning. The poor besotted raccoon didn't remember much after that; except turning, shamelessly hugging the human, tucking his head, nose up under the human's chin, sniff-sniff, taking in his scent then lick-lick-licking the human's skin with his small tongue, friend-friend-friend.

Later, Rocket was tucked down further into the human's bed, against David's front as the human lay on his side - the 'little spoon' - the human's hands petting, stroking, caressing everywhere - touch that brought no pain, only comfort, safety and love - Rocket purring gently as the human's hands soothed him to sleep. The next morning - as if for the first time in his life - Rocket woke naturally, his waking long and lazy, purring, drifting in and out of sleep--sometimes half-waking to yawn and stre-e-e-e-tch his arms, only to settle back into the warm, musty comfort of the duvet, back against the warmth of David's body and drift to sleep again.

When the little raccoon awakened fully--he expected to feel "all the little aches and pains", the dull ache of his implants, only... he didn't! Rocket instead felt only the softness of the duvet, the warmth of his humie, the feel of David's breath as it tickled against his nose; and his eyes closed slightly, a wordless hum escaping from him as he became aware of his humie's hands petting the fur of his head. Some long-suppressed, ancient instinct made Rocket inch his head forward just so to nuzzle the human's nose; inhale to share his breath; then Rocket nuzzled David more, marking his humie with his scent! As he was held, cuddled, Rocket felt like a million units...

Or... he thought he did. When David coaxed him out of bed and into the shower, the temperature set to as hot as he could stand it without burning him - the raccoon felt even better - a near pornographic groan leaving him as his body was turned to mush by the heat, the feel of the water soakin' through to the skin beneath his fur, right through to his BONES... But then Rocket blushed beneath his fur as his humie WASHED HIM, soap, shampoo, conditioner--the works, all of what he used being scentless so as not to arouse the suspicion of the team; that Rocket's rep would be intact. Shower off, then the raccoon whimpered as he was dried off so gently with the softest, fluffiest towel...

A little while later, David still wasn't done with him; now the human brushed him from head to toe - almost making him fall asleep standing up - then he rubbed some sort of oil through the raccoon's fur - which felt so flarkin' good and gave his fur a glossy sheen. After that, Rocket's humie carefully inspected, and then applied some sort of soothing topical cream to, his back, paying extremely careful attention to where the implant ports could be seen, touches soft and gentle. When his human helped him into a clean, freshly laundered suit (it was different, Rocket realized, with extra lining and padding here and there to prevent conflict and chafing with his fur!) Rocket just... he felt amazing, like a Mafia Boss - his Manservant always by his side, looking out for him; like something from one of those old earth movies!

A short while later, Rocket was grinning as his humie emerged from the shower, dressed in a crisp black business suit and white shirt that made him look flarkin' classy; then, Rocket inhaled as from an inside pocket of said suit, David withdrew the raccoon's special multifunction goggles, which had been expertly cleaned and repaired, the crossed tape between the lenses gone. With absolute gentleness and care, the human carefully set the goggles atop Rocket's head, adjusting the straps just so whilst sneaking in a quick caress of head fur; then with Rocket dressed, David crossed his arms, gazed down at him stoically, inspecting. The little raccoon knew what to do; drawing himself up to his full height, he stared right back with absolute confidence; at this the human smiled and Rocket grinned!

David knelt and Rocket gently climbed atop one of his humie's shoulders; then the human stood and now the raccoon cheered internally as David marched to the Milano Commons, his polished black shoes clicking loudly on the floor as they moved. Feeling as tall as a flarkin' mountain - as they entered the room - David frowned with disgust and Rocket sneered, his teeth bared, as human and raccoon beheld Peter Quill, sleeping on one of the couches - snoring loudly, mouth open and drooling like a drunkard - when he should have been on watch! David looked at Rocket; the raccoon looked back at his friend as the human shook his head and Rocket growled. "Quill!" The raccoon bellowed, startling the Celestial-Human hybrid awake. "Wake the flarkin' hell up, you dolt! Startin' from today, there's gonna be some changes around here... startin' with YOU!"

David smoothly knelt, Rocket hopped down, and then - as the raccoon berated Peter for his sloppiness and falling asleep on watch - the human entered the Kitchen area of the Commons and cooked breakfast for not only Rocket, but everyone else, and the human's timing was impeccable; he served it up just as Drax, Mantis, Nebula, Groot and Gamora, entered, waking up, bleary eyed. As was customary for his humie, naturally, David served Rocket first--a breakfast of the most flarkin' delicious food he'd ever eaten in his life, the content and portions not only mouth-wateringly tasty, but also perfectly suited for a procyon lotor. (David never used the "R"-word when referring to Rocket's species, preferring the grander-sounding name, which New Rocket greatly appreciated.) Then, David served the others with Drax being first, and poor Peter Quill being last. Shortly thereafter, with all bellies fed, Rocket definitely did not whimper as his humie brought out THE COFFEE in a Styrofoam cup, bowing to the little raccoon as he gently set it before him.

As his humie served ordinary morning coffee to the others, Rocket--nope, Rocket definitely did not inhale a sob as he sniff-sniffed and savoured the delicate aroma of THE COFFEE. He'd had his humie's special coffee before, and - whatever was in it - it was flarkin' perfect compared to whatever swill he served the others; if he wasn't already awake the smell alone would have brought him back from the dead--hell it might have brought back Lylla, Teefs and Floor, too! Rocket took a gentle sip, and - nope, that was Drax who groaned, not him, nope definitely not him - then began to drink, THE COFFEE smooth, rich, warm as it slid down his throat; soothing balm for his mind, gentle medicine for his body... He would steal every flarkin' Unit in the Universe for THE COFFEE, would KILL for THE COFFEE, would burn entire words for THE COFFEE... As he watched Rocket practically make love to... whatever brew was in that Styrofoam cup, Peter Quill let out an exaggerated sigh.

"Hey, Rocket, why do you get the special coffee, and I don't?!" He whined. His savouring of THE COFFEE interrupted, Rocket hunched possessively over his cup - practically curled himself around it, teeth bared in a vicious snarl - and made to yell at Quill. He needn't have been so hasty. With timing impeccable, David looked down his nose at the so-called Star-Lord and - affecting the voice and air of a British Butler - smoothly replied, "Because, by the Grace of you Guardians, I am blessed to be the friend and companion of Procyon Lotor Rocket, First and Only of His Name. And last I checked, Master Quill, you are not a Procyon Lotor. Your first name is not Rocket. You are not him." Rocket definitely didn't hear the scientific name for... his species... treated like a flarkin' Royal Title, nope. Wasn't sipping THE COFFEE with trembling paws, n-nope, that was some other being that wasn't him; and his eyes weren't gettin' all misty with... w-with t-t-- Oh, flark it all...! As Drax boomed with laughter at Peter's disgruntled pout, Rocket half-laughed, and half-wept as he sipped his drink. This humie, David... This d'ast, wonderful, infuriating flarkin' humie... His humie...