This is all because of a conversation with @daryshkart about Peter and Star Wars. :D
Peter was old enough when Yondu abducted him (picked him up) to know that Star Wars was made up. Still, he’d always thought space pirates and aliens were all made up too. And now he was plunged onto an actual, real spaceship full of actual, real space pirates, very much like a dirtier, rougher, infinitely bigger Millennium Falcon, and it was terrifying and amazing and by far the scariest/awesomest/worst/best thing that had ever happened to him.
He was severely disappointed in the lack of lightsabers, though.
“You want me to build a what?”
“A sword,” Peter said. “Made of light. It’s, uh, it’s a thing we had on Earth.”
Rocket gave him a narrow-eyed glare. They hadn’t known each other very long yet, but Peter could sense the skepticism pouring off him. “Is this another made-up thing from your stupid Earth stories?”
“No,” Peter said promptly. “Well … yes … but –”
“I knew it!”
“Look, the galaxy has got jump travel, laser guns, artificial gravity, and stuff that looks pretty much like magic to me. Why the heck can’t it have light swords too?”
“Because light doesn’t work that way, you frikkin’ overgrown ignoramoose.”
“It’s ‘ignoramus’,” Peter said, wondering absently as he said it exactly what word he was correcting via the translator, “and fine, a simple 'no’ would have been enough.”
And he forgot about it after that, because it wasn’t like he didn’t have enough to keep himself busy, and anyway, Rocket kinda probably had a point. Peter didn’t know a whole lot about physics (dropping out of school in the third grade had its downside) but he knew what he needed to know in order to keep his ship running, and trying to combine the functions of “laser” and “sword” was probably, well, not a thing for a reason.
It was a week or so after everything that happened with Ego, and with Yondu, and with the Eclector – a week of making repairs to the Quadrant, limping slowly back from the outer edge of the galaxy – when Peter walked into his (Yondu’s) quarters, flopped down on the rank fur covering the bed, and bounced up again with a yelp of pain.
“Groot!” he yelled to the room in general, because the only people who ever came in here regularly were Groot and Gamora, and Gamora was the only person on this ship who wasn’t likely to leave junk laying in the middle of the bed. He picked it up without caring much, intending to toss it into the mess on the floor, and then stopped, holding it in his hand.
He’d never seen this before – which wasn’t exactly a new experience (Groot had probably found it in one of Yondu’s drawers; they were going to have to have a talk about going through people’s stuff again) but he couldn’t figure out what it was, either. It looked like the hilt of a sword without the blade. In fact, it really looked a lot like –
Peter gripped it without really thinking about it, in the handle-like way it seemed meant to be held, and two feet of glowing blue light stabbed out to illuminate the dimness of Yondu’s quarters.
Peter yelled and dropped it. The glowing blade vanished as soon as it left his hand. It plunked into the fur on the bed.
“That reaction was all I was hoping for and more,” came a sardonic voice from the doorway. “I just wish I had been recording it.”
Peter jumped and spun around. “Rocket.” He looked back at the thing on the bed. Picked it up. Squeezed it carefully. This time he didn’t drop it when the light burst out of the end. It even hummed – not quite the right kind of hum, but … damn. He tried an experimental slice through the air. “You … made me a lightsaber. An actual, real lightsaber.”
Rocket looked away and picked his teeth with a claw. “It doesn’t work real well. Actually it’s pretty lame-ass for cutting things. Laser torch works way better – which is pretty much what it’s based off of, just a glammed-up version. An’ the handle heats up if you leave it on too long.”
“You made me a lightsaber.” Peter tried a fancy side-swing he’d seen Gamora do, and lopped off the top of a lamp. Oops.
(Yondu’s gonna kill me was his first thought, for just an instant before the memory of why Yondu wasn’t going to do that slammed into him.)
And he glanced at Rocket in the doorway, at the feigned posture of unconcern, and he couldn’t help thinking that he wasn’t the only one who must have needed something to take his mind off things right now.
Losers, he’d called them once. People who have lost stuff. And they had; they’d all lost too much, and a glowing light stick didn’t bring any of that back – it was really just a toy –
A toy Peter had mentioned once, and given Rocket a quick sketch he’d drawn. And Rocket had remembered. And made it for him.
He was holding an honest-to-God functional lightsaber in his hands.
“I am not joking here, this is the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen. Rocket. Thank you.” He tried some more swings, this time trying not to aim for any furnishings. “I’m gonna have to get Gamora to show me some actual sword moves.”
“If you take that thing into combat,” Rocket remarked, “you’re probably gonna die. Most likely after accidentally killing at least one of the rest of us, the way you’re swingin’ it around.”
“I don’t care. It’ll be worth it.” Peter looked up, grinning; he was feeling – happy, he was feeling happy, for the first time in a week. “Can you make another one?”
“Why would I want to do that?”
“So we can duel. Obviously.” He tried reversing the blade samurai-style and almost cut his hand off. Oops. Probably didn’t want to emulate Luke quite that closely. “Can you make the other one red?”
“Humies,” Rocket sighed, but there was a slight smile tugging at the corner of his muzzle.