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Next time he wakes it’s to Kraglin’s face staring down at him, all wobbly and scrunched up. His eyes go suspiciously shiny once he sees Yondu blinking grumpily awake.
“Welcome back, Cap’n,” he says, patting Yondu’s arm gently.
“Aw, not you too, you better not tear up on me Kraggles,” Yondu says, narrowing his eyes up at him. “I gotta ‘nuff of that from the brat. Y’would think I’da almost died or somethin’.”
Kraglin looks a little like he does whenever he gets punched in the gut, letting out a tiny wheeze and face going a blotchy red.
His mouth works soundlessly for a few seconds before he turns to fiddle pointlessly at the IV drip, turning his face away so he can surreptitiously dab his eyes with his sleeve.
Yondu studiously pretends not to see.
When Kraglin turns back around he seems to have pulled himself together a little. He sucks in a deep breath, clearly preparing to start waxing on about something like feelings.
Ugh.
Yondu wisely preempts this by reaching up to grab shakily at Kraglin’s shirt, before giving him his best leer.
“Ya gonna give me a welcome back smooch, Krags?”
Kraglin frowns down at him severely.
“ I would if yer lips weren’t all damaged where they swelled up and froze over,” he says, “from when you decided ta go space walkin’ without a suit. Sir.”
Yondu groans theatrically, head thumping back against the pillow.
“I don’t s’ppose any of y’all are ever gonna let that go,” he says, hoping his clear long-suffering at their ridiculousness is written all over his face.
“I don’t s’ppose so, sir,” Kraglin says obstreperously.
Yondu heaves one more dramatic sigh, unfortunately setting off a small coughing fit. Just a little one.
And it’s not like he doesn’t cough up a bit of blood every now and then, the Eclector’s air filtration system has always been a bit…wonky. Everyone knows you need a bit of lung rot now and then to give your respiratory system what’s for.
Kraglin however, doesn’t seem to remember this. He grabs the oxygen mask with grim determination before swiftly settling it over Yondu’s head and raising the back of the bed.
“Breathe, that’s it, inta yer lungs” he says, as Yondu side-eyes him resentfully. “You damaged them too, you know, when you was in space without a suit. Sir.”
Rolling his eyes, Yondu says gruffly, “Sumthin’ ya wanna say, Obfonteri?”
Kraglin bristles at him for a second, before deflating. His head drops into his hands as all the stubbornness drains out.
“Yeah,” he says heavily, “I shouldn’ta left ya behind, it’s my fault ya –“
“Now stop right there,” Yondu says with a huff. “It ain’t yer call what decisions I make.”
When Kraglin does nothing except continue to wibble those blue eyes of his, Yondu pokes him in the knee
“Ya did the right thing, gettin’ Twig, ’n Bug and the rat, and all them outta there,” he punctuates this with a second poke, to hopefully hammer the point home. ”Now shuttup and get on the bed, Kraggles.”
With that Yondu settles back against the bed, fingers twitching a little irritably from all this talk about feelings.
Or maybe it's one of the medications.
Whatever.
“Y’ssir,” Kraglin gives him a shy little grin, and scootches his gangly frame onto the bed to snuggle himself against Yondu’s side.
And well, there’s no one to see, if Yondu snuggles a little right back.