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She called him an angel once.
Should’ve called him a jackass.
Oh, Meredith knew it was natural for Peter to ask about his father, hell, she’d been prepping for it since the day he was born. All nine pounds of him, bless his heart. She had talked it out with her daddy, read all the parenting books she could get her hands on, and heard the same damn message, time and time again.
Don’t badmouth Peter’s father.
He was too young to understand, honestly. It was easier to have him coast by on a story or two of his father, a being of pure light, a spaceman who explored the galaxies. It tickled his imagination and gave Meredith her little Star-Lord, constantly concocting stories of his own explorations through space. For now, it was enough.
Hell, at the time of their courtship ( “Hah!” She’d mutter to herself ), Meredith was too young herself. Barely out of high school, just working at the local Dairy Queen, scraping and saving for the hopes of college. She didn’t understand anything either.
It was the charm, mostly. Oh, he knew just what to say and how to say it, leaving her in a blushing whirlwind with that silver tongue of his. He called her special, his river lily—and made sure she felt it, in the way only he could. All that attention from some fancy-talkin’ spaceman, towards a small town girl?
( That bright smile, oh, that hair. Made it real easy to brush her nerves off when he made offhand comments about lower life forms. )
It made Meredith sick now, just thinking about it. He learned her work schedule—never picked her up at home, where her daddy might see him. He always took her out alone, just the two of them. It felt romantic at the time, fumbling in the back of that car in the field, the stars overhead. Never mind that odd little empty feeling, once he finished and rolled off her, buckling his belt up, quick and tidy as you please.
(She remembered reading her mama’s bodice ripper books, the best ones leaving you a bit hot and heavy yourself. She never had the heart to tell him it just felt awkward, getting hammered away like that, a Charlie horse making itself at home along her calves. And didn’t he look silly, face all red and sweaty atop her?)
It only clicked when she told him about her plans for college. She wanted to be a nurse, like her mama, she had the grades to get into college, she just had to save up—
( He stared at her, as if she was an idiot, that damn half-smile on his face. “I won’t be able to find you, river lily. You’re better off where you’re at.” )
That ended up being the last night she saw him, anyhow. She told him goodbye with a smile on her face, and relief in her heart, even as he pressed a kiss to her forehead. Not even nine months later, Peter Jason Quill arrived. Her baby boy, her little Star-Lord.
So no, Meredith never badmouthed Peter’s father. Never told Peter how her stomach twisted just thinking about him, that low simmer of anger that shot up her throat the more she thought about how he spoke down to her. Not even when the gossip mill turned back to Meredith Quill, having a baby out of wedlock, and didn’t you hear what she tells that boy about his daddy? Crazier than a bag of cats.
Maybe when he was older, she’d sit him down and tell him the truth. For now, Meredith wanted Peter to think the world of his daddy, that he was the coolest spaceman in the galaxy, as she made up stories about his adventures at bedtime. He deserved that much—every kid did.
And maybe, maybe , when it was late, with Meredith in her bed alone, she’d let herself hope a little. Peter would get the daddy he needed. Maybe not now. But someday. The hope soothed her, easing those headaches that were growing fiercer with each passing year.
Things would turn out. Meredith Quill just knew it.