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Yondu is sitting on the bridge, feet propped up on the dashboard and fingers drumming idly when he hears the buzz of an incoming message. He grumbles a little under his breath about his well-earned lounging being interrupted as he swipes to answer without bothering to check the caller ID.
It’s been three years on his new ship, and after the work of recovering from post-exposure sickness, hiring and wrangling a new crew into submission, and reestablishing his reputation as a Ravager Captain Not to be Fucked With, he’s lost some of the wary edge he’d built up over the years in exile.
He looks at the screen, and is infinitely amused to see his idiot kid’s grumpy face looking back, ginger hair liberally adorned with twigs. He bursts in laughter, guffawing hard enough to have Kraglin turn away from the nav console to raise a confused eyebrow at him.
Looks like his boy’s all grown up and dealing with a moody teenager of his own. This is cosmic retribution, is what it is.
Peter continues to give him a sullen glare.
“You done yet,” he says flatly.
Yondu stops for a second, pretends to consider it, then shakes his head.
“Nope,” he says cheerfully. “This is never not gonna be entertaining fer me, boy.”
Kraglin lip quirks, as he pretends to ignore their conversation.
“Yoooonduuu,” Peter whines, “He won’t do anything I ask, he leaves his vines everywhere, and,” here Peter pauses, voice raising almost to a shriek, “he said I was boring. Boring. I saved the galaxy with a dance off, how is that boring.”
Yondu wheezes hard enough at that he’s nearly bent in two.
Peter pouts.
With a last chuckle, Yondu slouches back, and tilts his head.
“Not so fun, huh, wrangling a kid who don’t wanna listen ta a word ya say?” he says smugly.
“He’s supposed to be Rocket’s responsibility, I dunno what to do with him,” Peter folds his arms over his chest and lets his head thunk back against the wall behind him.
“Aw hell, ya think I’ve got advice fer ya?” Yondu asks, eyebrow raised. “Jest ‘cause you made it in mostly in one piece.”
That seems to take a little of the wind out of Peter’s sails, and he slumps backwards.
“I just… I want to do this right,” he says quiet, looking over beseechingly.
It’s not like Yondu doesn’t understand that sentiment. There’s still a big bundle of regret, shuffled into a corner of his mind, that he didn’t do Peter right when he was little. His upbringing in the Kree slave pits hadn't exactly given him the best model to go off, but he wishes there was a way he could go back and give his braggadocios younger self a slap upside the head and a stern note that small Terrans didn’t get jokes about throwing them in the stewpot.
When he doesn’t answer right away, Peter just stands there and continues to stare at him all pleadingly. Heaving a sigh, Yondu rubs his temple roughly.
“Ya try,” he says, voice low, “and ya screw up and ya try again, and ya apologize and then maybe ya screw up a little less, an’ maybe eventually…ya get it right enough they grow up to be a little less fucked up than you are.”
Peter tilts his head at him thoughtfully, those big green eyes of his looking straight through him, and Yondu curls his lip and stares down at the console. When he doesn’t follow up with anything, Peter shuffles awkwardly a little in place and to Yondu's relief changes the subject.
“You think you’re gonna be planet-side anytime soon?” he says, raising his eyebrows hopefully. “I know the gang would like to catch up and all.”
“We’re swinging by Nax in a few days,” Yondu says, ignoring the knowing look Kraglin throws in his direction, since no such plan had been on the agenda a minute ago.
Peter brightens and gives Yondu a grin that lights up his whole face. “See ya there, then?”
“Prolly, if a better job don’t come along,” Yondu ignores the little glowing warmth he gets whenever the kid smiles at him like that. “Mebbe I c’n talk some sense inta the Twig.”
“Sweet,” Peter crows, and then throws Yondu a set of cheerful finger guns before hanging up.
Yondu settles back into his chair, relaxing as he stares out through the glass.
“I’ll adjust the flight plan then,” Kraglin says, lips twitching in amusement as he punches numbers into the nav board. Yondu benevolently ignores him, muttering a little under his breath as he fiddles with the console and lets the ship take them to the starways.