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English
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Published:
2019-12-22
Updated:
2020-01-26
Words:
3,886
Chapters:
3/?
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31
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33
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Oh, Brother!

Summary:

Holiday giftfic for Ilya_Boltagon who really wanted to see my take on Thanos's little brother.

Eros, who survived the destruction of Titan, has been following the Black Order around trying to figure out what his older brother is up to. All goes well until Proxima notices a particularly handsome, roguish stranger looking at her, and isn't sure that's quite the flirty stare it looks like...

Notes:

Slightly divergent from what I'm doing in the main verse of CoT because I'd already had headcanon for Thanos's past before I even knew he canonically HAD a brother.

This is the first installment of two I'm planning. Second should go up around New Year's.

And yes, Chinface will be in it. :-)

As in other fics, spoken/written Titan (as opposed to languages translatable by standard implants) is indicated by... er... pointy things AO3 doesn't like me using in this text box and italics.

Chapter Text

<The tall one is staring at us.>” Proxima Midnight tilts her head in the direction of a man sitting in a nearby corner. He has pale pink skin and his hair is a tousled shock of deep red. It looks like he’s just come in out of the wind, but they’ve been sitting here for some time and she didn’t see him come in.

He looks back at her and smiles, wide and friendly. It’s disarming, and Proxima blinks back at him, confused.

“<Smiling at us,>” she amends, turning back to her siblings and shaking her head.

Cull grunts a laugh. “<Idiot. Must not know who we are.>”

“<Who doesn’t know who we are?>” says Gamora. She snickers too but doesn’t bother to look over. Nebula, sitting beside her, looks thoughtful but doesn’t say anything.

<Most beings know of us,>” Ebony Maw says, looking up from a small plate of vegetables and folding his hands.

<That’s why most beings would be gawking at us, yes,>” Corvus says, sliding a little bit closer to Proxima. “<But with that expression?>

Cull shrugs. “<Maybe we slaughtered his enemies for him.>” He picks up a bloody bit of meat from his plate, the heart of some creature Proxima should recognize by now. He bites it in half and sits back like he’s more interested in eating than talking.

<Possible,>” Nebula says. “<We do kill a lot of people.>” 

<Maybe. I doubt he’d walk up to us and say thanks,>” Proxima says, ignoring her food to keep squinting at Mysterious’s corner. “<I don’t know.>” 

<Nor do I,>” Corvus says. There’s an edge of anger in his voice, and Proxima blinks. Surely he doesn’t think she’s interested. “<If I didn’t know this language isn’t in translator implants, I’d suspect he was—>” 

“<Eavesdropping,>” the Maw finishes for him.

Nebula tilts her head. That means she just thought of something, but what’s going on in her sister’s half-metallic brain Proxima can’t guess. Corvus could probably figure it out, but he still looks out of sorts. Like he thinks she’s interested in this guy, when clearly she just thinks he’s interesting. She nudges him in irritation, but when he turns to look at her, Nebula is already talking again.

“<Is everyone prepared to head to Parthax in the morning?>”

Proxima blinks. Parthax? Why is she mentioning Parthax?

“<We’re not—>" says Cull. The Maw cuts him off with a jab to one of his ribs.

The stranger is still looking at them, but his eyes are wide. He’s still smiling, but it looks a little like it might slide off his face.

“<All right, so he’s eavesdropping,>” says Gamora, already drawing a knife. “<So now what do we do about it?>”

###

“You understood us,” Ebony Maw says. He’s hovering a little off the ground and the bar’s shutters are rattling. Gamora is rolling her eyes, but everyone in the Order has little things they do to scare off nosy idiots. “How?”

This particular nosy idiot doesn’t look very scared. Proxima huffs in irritation, and he flashes that disarming smile. But this time he’s looking at the Maw, not at her. She scowls. Everybody’s always paying attention to him.

“Hey,” the stranger says, and waves a hand, apparently trying to be placating. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Nebula steps forward. “What I said startled you. Why would it, unless you understood me?”

“I… uh… no. I don’t know what you said. I just… I caught something about Parthax.”

“That could be… plausible,” says Ebony Maw. “But…”

“I’ve got friends there,” the stranger says.

Corvus squints at him. Proxima snorts, then bites off whatever she was about to say. This isn’t just about me looking at this guy, is it?

“You’re not afraid of us,” Corvus says.

“Hey. What’s this about being afraid? We’re just talking.”

Corvus doesn’t answer.

“If you had friends on Parthax, you would’ve looked worried sooner.” Proxima frowns. She speaks for Corvus all the time, just as he speaks for her. They've known each other’s mind for almost as long as they've known each other. But it’s not like him to just stop talking without even glancing at her first. She fixes the stranger with an angry glare.

His lips twitch but he’s still smiling a little. Proxima clenches a fist. That look on his face fascinated her before. And he’s still attractive. But now she just wants to sock him in the jaw. Especially for making Corvus doubt her.

“She’s right,” says Cull. He smacks his palm with a massive fist. “<Who the hell are you?>”

Ebony Maw glowers at him too. But he doesn’t say anything. He just hovers there until even Cull is frowning at him.

“You’re pretty good at pretending to be an idiot,” says Gamora. “But you’re not.”

“Hey,” Mysterious says. “Calm down.”

Is that the only thing you know how to say?

And yet it seems a little silly, rushing out here with all her siblings, on full alert just to handle one man. When was the last time she let herself relax?

 Ebony Maw hovers closer. “He has a point. We do not want a brawl.”

<Like runny Klarg shit we don’t!>” growls Cull. “<You’re the one who confronted him!>”

Ebony Maw blinks. He was making one of his hand gestures—the one he uses a lot in the meditation room, when he’s trying to get people to stop bickering and concentrate. But now his fingers curl halfway, not meeting each other, like he forgot which sign he meant to make.

It looks ridiculous. Proxima snickers. Corvus just frowns. That means he doesn’t like this, and from what Proxima can tell he shouldn’t. She grips her spear tighter and glowers at the stranger, trying not to stare too hard in case that’s how he’s doing… whatever he’s doing.

Ebony Maw puts his hands down. He drops them to his sides like he’s not sure what to do with them. Proxima has just enough time to stifle a laugh before his face twists into its usual sneer.

Cull is less amused. He smacks a massive fist against his palm and rumbles a warning. “<Let him go!>”

The stranger sighs. Then he shrugs.

The Maw blinks. His needles float free from his robes and form a glittering ring around him. “You are not welcome in my head.”

The stranger looks at the needles and whistles. “Yeah. I see that.” He holds up his hands just a little too late. Like the gesture of surrender is an afterthought. “I just… I’m not looking for a fight. Thought it might make more sense to tell you guys that directly. Guess I got that one wrong.”

Corvus is right. You don’t fear us at all, do you?  

“Yeah,” Gamora’s hand moves to the blade at her belt. “You did get that one wrong.”

She doesn’t draw it. Why isn’t she drawing it? He stopped. Didn’t he? 

But you understood him,” Nebula says and tilts her head at Cull. Her hands are at her sides, but she’s gripping her batons and Proxima sees energy crackle over them. She gives her little sister an approving smirk but looks at the stranger warily. How many of her siblings can this man charm at once?

“No one speaks that language,” Ebony Maw says. “No one but us… and the One who sent us.”

“He’s right,” Cull says.

“It’s a dead language,” Nebula says. She lowers her head, the gesture solemn and automatic. But she doesn’t take her eyes off their potential enemy.

His grin falters. For the first time, Proxima thinks she sees something dark in his eyes.

Corvus is looking at him too, his weapon at the ready. “<What kind of ghost are you?>”

The stranger flashes a grin. “<Put that thing down and I might tell you.>”

Corvus glares at him and moves to strike. Proxima grins, but then he hesitates. What should have been a fluid attack becomes a strange, jerky motion. The look in his eyes softens. It reminds Proxima of the way he looks at her.

The blow never lands.

Proxima roars and launches herself at him. She readies her spear to throw. Once she lets go, it will speed toward her target. Whether or not she changes her mind.

Once she lets go.

Her hands tighten around it. Her grip is tight enough that it should hurt. But it doesn’t. She feels only warmth and weightlessness. Warmth and weightlessness… and an odd peace she remembers from a life she long ago forgot.

She straightens, spear held upright at her side like she's standing on ceremony. She feels her lips twitch, relaxes, and smiles.