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“Now listen here, boy,” Yondu flicked Peter’s ear sharply, guffawing when he jerked awake with a panicked flail. After pausing to make sure he had Peter’s begrudging attention, Yondu settled back grandiosely into his plethora of pillows and drawled, “It’s come to my attention–“
Before he could finish the words choked into an ugly cough, and he thumped at his chest. Kraglin, idly scrolling through his data pad on the other side of Yondu’s stretcher, handed Yondu his drink without looking up. Yondu took it with ill grace, mumbling incomprehensible imprecations at the world under his breath.
Peter leaned in, squinted at him worriedly. Maybe it was time for more of that vaporizer medicine the doc had left, the one that made Yondu glare mutinously through the plastic mask at whomever made him use it. Ridiculous old doofus, always insisting on pretending he’d skipped right over all that recovering from deep space exposure like it was just a mild case of space flu and–
Wait. Peter replayed what Yondu said and winced. Oh. No. That did not sound like a collection of words that would ever foreshadow anything good.
Yondu gave a last painful hack, sullenly stuck the glass out for Kraglin to replace on the beside table. Resettling himself in the mountain of bedding he’d insisted on as soon as he was healed enough to grumble ‘damn sandpaper sheets’, he blithely picked up like he’d never been interrupted.
“–that you gone and got a lil’ crush on your green assassin friend.”
Yup. Peter was right. Unfortunately. He let his head thunk back against the wall. “Yon-du.”
“And what’s more,” Yondu was really getting into it now, the big drama queen, tilting his head and schooling his face into mock seriousness. “You’re wanting more than just a little nookie-nookie with her.”
Oh god. Peter's face scrunched sulkily.
“You know I’m not eight anymore,” he huffed, “I do know what sex is.”
Peter still couldn’t quite accept he’d believed Yondu, albeit with a little confusion, when he’d offered ‘Kraglin’s room was too cold’ as a reasonable explanation when Peter had accidentally walked in on the two of them in flagrante delicto.
Yondu was just under the bedding to help warm Kraglin up, see.
Hrmph.
Yondu continues unperturbed. “If you didn’t know after awkwardly hitting on every species in every bar we visited, might have to think a little less of your game, boy.”
Kraglin snorted. “Lil Pete? Game?”
“Now Krags,” Yondu said. “Don’t be too hard on him. Just because of that thing with the Aaskvarian. And the Krylorian. And the… what was that one with the ears? “
“Felisian.”
Kraglin practically reeked of schadenfreude right now. If only he was closer, Peter would give him a well earned sock on the shoulder.
Yondu nodded. “And the thing with the Felisian.”
“Oh god,” Peter’s face was bright red, he just knew it, “Kill me now.”
Yondu ignored him magnanimously.
“Now, might be time t’hand down a little fatherly advice about getting your girl,” he puffed out his chest and leaned in closer, “since Kraglin and I have been bumping uglies since before you was on board.”
“Urgh,” Peter rolled his eyes, “Don’t have to tell me about it.”
Once Peter was older, they hadn’t tried quite so hard to keep their…. activities from Peter’s notice. Which meant far, far too many images he’d quite rather forget of the two of them all over each other after jobs, in storage closets – even defiling perfectly innocent rec tables.
“Well,” Yondu paused thoughtfully, “I’ve been doing that, but I’m pretty as an angel so I don’t know what Kraglin’s been doing.”
Kraglin glanced up from the data pad he was clearly not reading anymore to widen his eyes reproachfully – in a way that looked completely ridiculous on a forty-something year old hardened criminal.
“Aw darling,” Yondu said, leered across at him, “You know I ain’t got eyes for no one but you.”
Kraglin blinked. Seems he wasn’t used to Yondu’s new post-mutiny habit of not giving a shit either. Then he smirked fondly as he patted at Yondu’s lap.
“And Nova Prime when she’s cussin’ you out.”
“Her too,” Yondu said peaceably, and wouldn’t Peter never, ever, like to hear that story. Yondu casually looked away as he laid his hand on top of Kraglin’s. They sat there, soppily not looking at each other like some ridiculous old married couple.
“You’re still punishing me for the troll doll, aren’t you,” Peter scooted to the other end of his chair, “That’s what this is, isn’t it. If I apologize will you please stop talking?”
Yondu ignored him.
“Never thought I’d see the day,” he beamed facetiously at Peter, “My boy, all grown up and head over heels. Like one of your Terran songs, it is.”
If he wasn’t blushing before, Peter was now.
“That’s not– what– who said anything about–“ before he gave up and flopped his upper half down on the bed. He snuck a hand up to wrap around Yondu’s leg, because while this was absolutely the last conversation he wanted to have, he could still have it. Yondu was still here to have it with him. Not dead and incinerated, ashes drifting around a dark galaxy.
Someday, they’re actually going to have to talk about everything. Someday they’re actually going to have to deal with the ugly resentful thing deep-rooted and gnawing bitterly at Peter’s chest. The years of anger and misunderstandings and regrets.
But today Yondu was here. They could try again.
Yondu cuffed him lightly on the back of the head, a gestures that somehow ended up with his hands gently ruffling through Peter’s curls.
“Now, have you thought about how you gonna woo her? Girl like that, deserves a little wooing.”
Peter hesitated. Gamora did deserve that. She deserved all the wooing. Except, what had he done?
“I danced with her,” he offered hesitantly.
Yondu waited.
“…And?”
Peter didn’t look up. Yondu blinked.
“Thas it?”
“Well, if you’re so good at all this, how did you and Kraglin end up…” Peter fumbled for a word, and ended up waving a hand in the air so that they’d hopefully fill in the blank themselves.
Kraglin snickered, lounging in his chair and not even pretending a little not to be enjoying this.
Dick.
Before Yondu could say anything, Kraglin rolled his eyes. “What you think he wooed me? Yondu?”
Well. When you put it like that.
“He waltzed up to me in the mess one day ’n said, ‘we should have a planning meeting tonight,’” Kraglin said, mouth twitching, “And then followed it up with ‘and by planning meeting I mean do you wanna smash.’”
“It worked too,” Yondu looked altogether too pleased with himself for a man whose game was apparently centered completely around having none at all.
“Only ‘cause I was already gone on you,” Kraglin said, face twisting wry. He still hadn’t let go of Yondu’s hand, and Peter didn’t really blame him. He hadn’t let go of Yondu’s leg either.
Yondu cackled. “You was such a vicious lil’ thing too about it.”
“Oh?” Peter said, perking up.
Because yes. They should definitely talk about Kraglin instead of Peter. Much better idea. Come to think of it, he actually hadn’t heard this story. And from the way Kraglin’s ears were starting to tinge red, it must be a good one.
“Couple days after we’d had ourselves a little wham bam,” Yondu smirked, “We was planet side blowing off steam. Started hitting up on some pretty little thing when they go the palest yellow I ever seen an Aakon go.”
From Yondu’s other side, Kraglin blinked, completely unrepentant.
“By the time I turn around ‘course, Krags has just got this bland little grin on his face and a drink in his hand,” Yondu said. “Bites his damn lip all pointed and tells me there’s something needs attending to, back on the ship.”
The further into his little anecdote Yondu got, the more the looks he was throwing Kraglin made Peter want to sidle off and leave them to their weird old-man canoodling.
“Probably just ate something that put them off,” Kraglin said mildly.
“Uh huh,” Yondu’s eyes began to hood over, and he hooked a fang over his upper lip, “same thing all them others ate in all them other bars.”
Kraglin pressed closer, eying him right back. “Can’t be too careful, y’know, with the kinda shit they serve at those kinda joints.”
Right then. Peter coughed, started to edge slowly up from his seat. The movement snapped Yondu out of his little mutual ogling match.
“But we ain’t talking ‘bout me and Krags,” he said, “Was talking ‘bout you charming your lil girlfriend.”
“She’s not my girlfriend yet,” Peter wrinkled his nose. “So then what. You have a suggestion?”
Yondu pondered this.
“Livers,” he said, poking a finger at Peter. Kraglin nodded in sage agreement. “Of her enemies. Can’t get more romantic than that.”
That’s it. Peter was so done with the both of them.
“I don’t think girls like decaying body parts,” he said. “And anyways it’s supposed to be something about bringing someone the heart of their enemies.”
Kraglin and Yondu made disgusted faces in unison.
“Now why would you bring her a heart when livers are much more tasty?” Yondu shook his head. “No, bring her those and, lessee now…”
“Weapons, “ Kraglin threw an apologetic look at him when Yondu glared at the interjection. “Her thing’s what, knives?”
“Swords,” Peter said begrudgingly. “She likes swords. And blasters.”
“Well,” Kraglin said. “Bring her some of them too.”
Huh. Gamora had been complaining about losing her best blade in that fight with the Badoon.
“Not flowers?” Peter’s tone was hesitant. “Sweets?”
As far as he knew Gamora didn’t have much of a sweet tooth, but he was fairly sure those were the more traditional sort of wooing gifts.
“No, he’s right. Swords.”
Peter startled at the graveled voice from the doorway, Yondu and Kraglin snapping into tension. Stakar stared back at them, something about his visage altogether too hesitant for a man who commanded the strength of a hundred murderous factions. He folded his arms, added low and certain, “Women like swords.”
Yondu looked at Stakar like he was waiting for everything he’d ever wanted to get ripped away. Kraglin just looked like if he could slit Stakar's throat with his eyes, Stakar would already be dead.
There’s so much history here, so much history Peter was just beginning to understand. Why this Ravager of Ravagers had scooped a half-dead Yondu gently into his arms, curled over him with tears in his eyes and called him ‘son’. Why Yondu had never said a word about him. Why Kraglin still wouldn’t speak to him.
For now though, Peter had wooing to do.
“Right, I’ll let you all talk things out, I’m gonna go find Gamora,”
Yondu made an aborted grab for Peter, looked as though he was refraining from asking him to stay through sheer bullheadedness. Kraglin hovered, puffed up and practically gluing himself to Yondu’s side like a particularly possessive space barnacle.
Stakar sidled further into the room as Peter approached the door, nodded to him
“See ya,” Peter shot the room a pair of awkward finger guns and wait…
He had a thought. A wonderfully, evilly, perfect thought. He looked over his shoulder, nodded, “Krags. Dad.”
Then ignoring Yondu’s sputtering he turned to Stakar, beamed innocently.
“Grandpa,” he added, and waltzed out the door.
You know, now that he thought about it… hmm.
Maybe Gamora would like a new broadsword.