Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Peter is not a Ravager.

Even though he’s been living on this ship with them for two years now, Peter is not a Ravager.

He asked Yondu about it once before, almost two months after mom d- after being taken. Yondu had taken him planetside, said he didn’t trust Peter on the ship without him or Kraglin around to keep him from pissing the crew off enough to get airlocked. The market was so packed that the crowd moved more like a liquid than a group of people. Yondu had put a firm hand over his shoulder at one point when he started to fall behind. For once Peter hadn’t tried to squirm out of his hold. Most of the market growers kept their heads down and minded their own business but there were some who, whilst feigning disinterest, scanned the crowd with sharp eyes. They stood pressed up against walls and dilapidated buildings and when Peter had asked what they were looking for Yondu had gripped him tighter.

”Traffickers. They look ‘round crowds and take the ones who won’t be missed. They’re a mean bunch o’ bastards but they know not to mess with Ravagers, so you stay close ta’ me boy and don’ look at them.”

Peter remembers scrunching his nose in confusion at Yondu’s words.

”But I’m a Ravager so why would they come after me?”

Yondu’s snort had been so loud that the woman next to him shot him a filthy look.

”Just cuz’ yer coming along with us don’t mean yer a Ravager. Ya ain’t gone through the rites.”

Peter had wanted to ask more, but just as he was about to, Yondu caught sight of their contact hanging out by some foul smelling food stall and any further conversion was ignored. Since then he hasn’t stopped thinking about it. He walks the halls of the Eclector, headphones over his ears and mop in his hand. Yondu had ordered him to clean his room. Normally he would be fuming and stomping around at being ordered to clean his room like Yondu was his dad or something but today he was too lost in thought to be mad. Two bickering voices filter over I’m not in love and Peter looks up to see two crewmen walk by. They’re holding mops, like he is, but they’re heading off to clean the hanger, and they pay no mind to Peter’s sudden interest in them. Now that he’s thinking about it, he’s never been ordered to clean anything that didn’t belong to him personally, except for the vents that one time he managed to piss Yondu off something fierce.

He knows that those two men aren’t pilots, yet they’re cleaning the M-ships anyway because they’re Ravagers, part of a crew where everyone does their part to help keep the entire machine going. It’s as if Peter had never really thought about the Ravagers as a whole or how completely alienated he was to their workings as a crew. Sure he lives on the same ship as them, but other than Yondu or Kraglin no one really talks to him. He’s ignored at best and occasionally mocked or threatened at worst. He thought that that was what he wanted, that this ship was just full of assholes who for some reason wanted to keep him alive but now he can’t get it out of his head that maybe they’re ignoring him because he’s not crew.

The bickering pair turn a corner out of Peter’s sight. He wonders how long they’ve been Ravagers for, and what their rites looked like. It’s only when Rocket man comes on that Peter realizes he’s been standing in that hallway for far too long and hurried to return the mop back to its cupboard. Maybe the next time Yondu’s in a sharing mood he’ll ask about the rites.

—--------------

Peter never gets his chance to ask.

Turns out he doesn’t have to.

Yondu had picked up Q’tar on some weird moon after a job. From what he’s managed to gather it seemed like the guy had been a guard at whatever base Yondu had been hired to rob, and had all but groveled at Yondu’s feet and promised loyalty in exchange for his life. He had seen Kraglin making bets with some of the crew over how long before the new guy croaked or ran off. General consensus was ‘not very long’ with the only person betting in favor of the poor guy being Tullk.

Honestly, with how the guy seemed to tremble at the sight of his own shadow, Peter’s bet wouldn’t have been very high either.

However, to Tullk’s delight and a Kraglin’s chagrin, Q’tar turned out to be quite the quickstudy. It wasn't long before he was promoted from cleaning the bogs to assisting the Navigators during those grueling double shifts. The Lunar after Yondu had needed to gather a small team for a quick hit and run and decided to take the opportunity to see what the fresh meat was really capable of. Peter doesn’t know exactly what went down in those shady back alleys but whatever Q’tar had done had impressed Yondu enough to convince him that getting a jacket fitted for him wouldn’t be little more than a waste of leather.

Yondu announced the same night they came back that there would be a rites ceremony held the next day.

The resounding roar of approval from the crew was almost deafening, loudest of all was Tullk, who Peter suspected was about to have much heavier pockets by the end of the night.

The excitement in the ship was palpable. Apparently it had been a very long time since they had a rookie last long enough to earn the rites.

Yondu had ordered him to stay out of the way, said that he had no time to make sure that Peter didn’t get eaten or otherwise injured while he was busy preparing.

”An’ don’t you go spying on us neither. The rites are for crew only.”

Before he could start to argue, Yondu turned to shout over his shoulder.

”I know you know tha’ there’s a vent grate in the rec. Donchu let me catch you in there.”

Then with a swish of his coat, he was gone.

It took a moment for the meaning of Yondu’s words to click, but as soon as they did Peter couldn’t stop the grin spreading across his face.

Maybe Yondu was occasionally capable of not being an asshole.

So Peter bid his time and waited until the ship's horn sounded and the hallways all emptied as the crew made their way to the rec room that they had temporarily converted into a ceremonial hall. As soon as the coast was clear Peter scrambled into the vents, using the sounds of the Ravagers’ hollering cheers to lead him through the twists and turns. Peering through the gaps in the grate, he can just about make out Yondu standing in the center of the room. There’s a bunch of badges and ribbons on his coat that he’s never seen before. Kraglin stands behind him, holding what Peter assumes are Q’tar’s new leathers.

A table separates him from the Captain. Peter has to strain his eyes to makeout what's on it but there looks to be two small glasses, a bottle, and what might be a badge. The low murmur of conversation dies down as Kraglin calls the room to attention. Q’tar steps up and the ceremony begins.

Peter watches enraptured as Q’tar takes one shot (for the Captain), then another (for the code), then Kraglin places the leathers into his waiting arms. Peter can almost feel the anticipation radiating off of him as he slips the jacket on. Finally, he places his lips against the metal badge (for the flame), and Kraglin fastens it to his breast. Q’tar raps his fist against his chest twice and the room explodes into a cacophony of noise. Someone calls for drinks and Peter takes that as his cue to slip back the way he came, mind still filled with wonder.

In his bid to leave without making noise, he misses two red eyes peering at him through the gaps in the grate.

—-----------

“I want to be a Ravager.”

If anyone else had dared to ambush Yondu like that, waiting outside the door to his quarters to spring questions on him first thing in the morning after a night of heavy drinking, they’d have an arrow through the eye before they could even finish their sentence. As it stands now however, Yondu just grins.

“Well then we’ve gotta lot of work ahead of us don’ we?”

—-----------

Yondu hadn’t been exaggerating. Peter was barely big enough to reach the controls for the M-ships let alone pilot them effectively. But when Yondu laughed at him sitting there with his feet dangling inches away from the floor, it was more out of genuine mirth than cruelty.

Yondu ends up teaching him how to shoot first instead.

Four years later and the tailor had scoffed at having to make a jacket so small but all the jokes and taunts mean nothing when Yondo claps him over the shoulder as soon as the tailor leaves.

“Yer doing good son.”

The alcohol burns something fierce on the way down (one for the Captain, one for the code) but he tries not to let it show. Kraglin hands him his (his!) leathers with an expression that reads less amusement and more I-didn’t-think-you’d-actually-do-it. Peter briefly wonders if anyone made bets on him, but the thought gets pushed to the back of his mind because the badge is being pressed against his lips. Yondu’s gaze is on him and him only and for a moment Peter forgets that he’s not supposed to be able to stand this guy.

He beats his fist twice against his chest, and even if he never does it again in his life, in this moment now it feels right.

—-----------

“It’s been twenty standards now ain’t it boy?”

“Yeah,” Peter sits alone in the cockpit of the Benthar. If the others aren’t all already asleep, then they’re doing him the courtesy of pretending to be. Yondu sits back in his chair from the other side of the holoscreen and opens a bottle of Fireshot. Peter still isn’t used to the look of Yondu’s new ship, and he feels like a part of him never will be.

“Didn’t think I’d live long enough to see it to be perfectly honest with ya.” He chuckles.

A few lunars ago, Peter would have scoffed and cracked a joke at the thought of the blue bastard croaking. But now, after Ego, it just leaves a lump in his throat that he masks by opening his own bottle of a significantly less strong liquor.

“And you better make sure you’re around to celebrate thirty years too. We’ll have to actually meet up for that one.”

They pour themselves two shots each. One for the Captain and one for the code.

Because while Peter’s not a Ravager anymore, some traditions are hard to let go of.

Chapter Text

To say that Peter ‘enjoyed music’ was like saying that Tivian ‘enjoyed collecting things’. Sure, you would technically be correct with both of those statements, but you would also be making an understatement the size of a Nova freight ship.

Their little rag-tag group of somehow-heroes had been together for a few lunars now, and all of them could safely claim to be able to recite every song on those two damned cassette tapes word for word and probably backwards too. Despite the songs always being the same, and the Milano being capable of picking up local radio frequencies, Peter never seemed to tire of them. If he’s not blasting them through the ship's sound system, he has those orange foam ear coverings on, and if he doesn’t have that then he’s humming them. Or tapping the tune out with his foot, or with his fingers, or in any other distracting manner that makes Gamora kick him under the table when she catches him doing it during what was supposed to be an important meeting for a job. Honestly Quill you’ll survive without music for ten minutes, be serious for once.

All of this to say, they were all incredibly familiar with the kind of music that followed Peter around like his own personal soundtrack.

So when he starts humming music that they don’t recognize, they take notice.

The first time Gamora hears it, they’re docked on some dust planet called Zither, and are currently in the process of bolting down practically everything that wasn’t already. This place was known for winds strong enough to rip ships from their docked position and they had been lucky enough to arrive just as the storm was brewing on the horizon.

It’s an all hands on deck type operation. While Rocket and Drax were busy locking down the Milano, Peter and Gamora sorted through the cargo hold. The storm is messing with the ships radios, so the only sounds that accompany their working are those of the rapidly rising winds. It doesn’t stay that way for long however, as exactly five minutes after they start, Peter starts to hum.

She’s more than content to let it fall into background noise as she’s done so many times before, however something catches her attention this time, and she finds herself actually listening to the words he’s mumbling to himself.

It lacks the cheerful and upbeat rhythm that most of his songs have, instead the beat is steady, and she realizes that he’s matching his workflow to it, using the tapping of his foot as a kind of drum to time himself.

She finds herself following his rhythm without even realizing. Box, stack, rope, secure to the one-two-three-four beat of the song. Like this, it’s easy to get lost in the work. So much so that she doesn’t notice she’s done until she bumps right into Peter in the center of the room. He seems to have been as lost in thought as her because he blinks at her in surprise before breaking out into a wide grin.

“All done on your end?”

“Yes. Is there anything else that needs to be tied down?”

“Don’t think so. Wonder if Rocket and Drax are done.”

Just then, the ship lurches as the wind does its best to knock her over. Thankfully their ropes and knots hold, although Peter tips rather gracelessly into her as a second gust hits. Footsteps thunder through the entrance, Rocket cursing at Drax to shut the airlock while the man just laughs at how Rocket has almost been blown away.

All thoughts about Peter’s new song are pushed to the side in favor of strapping herself into her seat as quickly as possible. She’ll have to remember to ask for its name later, once the storm settles and their sound systems come back online. If it’s on the tapes then she’s bound to hear it again soon.

“Brace yourselves!”

The wind slams against the hull again and Gamora swears to herself to never let Drax choose their destination ever again.

—————

Gamora does end up hearing that song again.

Except it’s not on the tapes, that she’s certain of.

She had almost written it off as some sort of fluke, a random tune he heard once and then quickly forgot about. Except the next time Quill was tasked with sorting inventory, she recognized the one-two-three-four rhythm of his work. She never managed to catch any lyrics, just a hummed melody. She doesn’t know why she’s so fixated on it. Maybe it’s the fact that Peter almost seems to be hiding this song from them, only muttering it to himself when working alone, never mentioning it in one of his many tirades about supposed genius Terran musicians. Or maybe she’s finally going stir crazy from spending most of her time on a ship with barely enough room for the four adults and a just out of the pot Groot.

Regardless, Gamora can’t seem to get this song out of her head, both metaphorically and literally. She wonders if she should just ask Peter about it outright, but a part of her feels as if that would be prying. Peter already shared so much of himself, if he hasn’t told them something then there’s probably a reason for that and she shouldn’t go sticking her nose where it doesn’t belong, especially over something so trivial as a song of all things.

It’s a good thing that toddlers rarely have qualms over things such as invasion of privacy.

“I am Groot?”

Peter makes that noise he always does when he’s pulled out of deep thought. Groot has taken to hanging off of their shoulders while they go about their days. Rocket had made some quip about role reversals and how Groot would owe him once he grew bigger, but everyone could tell how delighted he was at Groot’s progress. Peter had been sorting through some various boxes of supplies they had been given as an extra thank you from their last job, and Groot had been curled up happily in his jacket, only peeking his head out from under it to pose his question.

“I am Groot?”

“Yeah, yeah buddy I heard you the first time.”

Gamora, happy that she hadn’t been the only one to pick up on Peter’s new tune, leaned against the doorframe to the storerooms, feigning interest in the contents of one of the crates as she listened to the conversation.

“It’s nothing really. Just an old song.”

“I am Groot?”

“Nah it’s not on the tapes. Sorry Groot.”

“I am Groot!”

“Well, that’s, um….”

While Peter floundered, trying to come up with an excuse as to why he didn’t want to sing the song out loud, two sets of footsteps come down the hallway accompanied by not so subtle grumbling.

“What the hell’s taking ya so long Quill? You’re up on dinner duty an’ I’m getting hungry!”

At the sound of Rocket’s voice, Groot scrambles off of Peter and into Rocket’s waiting hands, babbling excitedly into his ear.

“What’s all this now about some mystery song?”

“Oh, is this the one Quill likes to sing when he thinks we can’t hear him?” Drax says around a mouthful of Zarg nuts. The bag he was holding most definitely did not belong to him, but Peter is apparently too flustered to notice the stolen snack.

“What the hell! Have you all been spying on me or something?”

“I don’ know if you’ve noticed Quill but this ain’t exactly a huge ship and you’re not exactly stealthy.” Rocket crosses his arms.

“I am Groot!”

“Oh yeah, and answer Groot’s question.”

Peter throws his arms up in exasperation. “It’s just some Ravager work song!”

Drax finally pauses his chewing and squints at him.

“I was under the impression that you were no longer a Ravager.”

Peter coughs and looks away, turning an amusing shade of pink.

“I can sing their songs without being one! I lived with those assholes for like thirty years, excuse me for getting their damn music stuck in my head.”

Drax looks vaguely offended by Peter’s statement. “On my home planet partaking in arts of other cultures that were not your own was seen as highly disrespectful. I did not consider you a disrespectful person Peter Quill but maybe I misjudged you.”

“Oh fuck off!” He’s bright red now, pushing past both Drax and Rocket as he stomps his way into the kitchen. Gamora rolls her eyes and makes after him. A Ravager song. She wasn’t aware that Ravagers had their own music, but she supposes that it’s not the strangest thing she’s heard about them. She does find it odd that Peter is so flustered about having been caught singing it, but his relationship with the people who he grew up with is, as far as she’s concerned, none of her business. The same way Peter doesn’t pry about her past, she won’t pry about his.

She does later hear Peter softly whispering the song to Groot as he helps him pick off dead bark. It’s just the two of them in the cockpit, neither of them aware of her presence. She smiles and leaves, as quietly as she came.

It really was hard to deny Groot anything after all.

——————

This, Gamora decided, was not an emotion she wanted to see on Peter Quill ever again.

She couldn’t place her finger on what exactly this was, only that it left Peter pale and sleepless, glued to the bedside of a man who he had just realized was his father.

To the bedside of a man who, despite their best efforts, may never wake up again.

The Starhawk had taken Yondu and Peter aboard in the wake of the collapse of Ego. Rocket barely had had the time to explain what the hell the High Captain of the Ravagers was doing here in the first place before they were rushing after them. Their medical wing was better than what Gamora had seen even on most Nova core ships, and they had all been assured that the pair were receiving the best care they could offer.

Peter had woken up a cycle into their stay aboard, immediately almost punched a nurse, and then demanded to know where Yondu was.

His expression upon seeing Yondu in the recompression chamber, with the beeping of machinery being the only signs that he was even still alive, crushed her.

“Helplessness,” Mantis had whispered to her one day as she stepped out of the medical ward after another failed attempt at getting Peter to leave and eat. “He feels helplessness, and regret.”

She had glanced back into the room behind her. Peter was still in the exact same spot she had left him in, the same spot he hadn’t moved from unless bodily carried out by Drax.

There was only one person, other than them and occasionally the medics, that dared occupy the same space as him for more than five minutes.

Kraglin Obfonteri.

He was also the only other person that she could confidently say looked almost as bad as Peter. Maybe even more so, because Peter had them to look out for him, to force him to eat and bathe and rest.

All Kraglin had left was comatose in the bed before him.

Kraglin had spoken with the other Ravager captains soon after Yondu had been declared stable. He had left the meeting room already looking a mess, but there hadn’t been any shouting or death threats and he had actually looked Ogord in the eye when they next met so she assumed that it had gone as well as it could have. At some point, the High Captain must have realized that Kraglin hadn’t been seen outside the medical ward in days, and had promptly sent his first mate to frog march the man first to the showers and then to the mess.

Things seem to start looking up after that. While Yondu still hadn’t awoken, Kraglin and Peter had at least started being seen around with more regularity.

He comes over to them at breakfast one day, saying that he’s planning on cleaning out the Quadrant before Stakar’s engineers take a look at it, and asking if Peter wanted to come take a look with him.

The Quadrant, is, as expected, a mess. Any cargo that had been in there before the mutiny had been completely thrown around during their hectic flying. First order of business had been to actually organize the mess so that it could be sorted through.

Gamora hung behind. Peter had invited her to come with, but for now she had decided to hang back and watch them work. It felt too..intimate, to go through the Ravagers belongings. She trusted that if her help was needed that they would not hesitate to ask.

It doesn’t surprise her when the humming starts. That is, until she realizes that it’s not Peter humming.

It’s Kraglin.

The steady rhythm guides his shaking hands through his work. One-two-three-four.

Peter has said that it was a Ravagers song. She supposed that it only made sense for him to know it.

And then Peter joins in.

Kraglin stops humming almost immediately. Peter falters, but finishes singing the verse.

They stare at each other, frozen in place. Kraglin’s expression morphs and for a split second Gamora thinks that he’s going to hit Peter but instead his lip wobbles. He takes a breath, and continues the song.

It’s the first time she’s heard Peter sing since Ego.

The words are just as repetitive as the rhythm, they start off quiet, but with every verse they get louder, their voices echoing off the walls of the hanger. Both of them looked happier than they have in days. The song finishes as their work does, and Kraglin’s hand hovers over Peter’s shoulder for a moment before he makes up his mind and pulls him close. He wipes his eyes before letting go again.

Gamora had never thought much about Kraglin’s relationship to Peter, but he was Yondu’s first mate and therefore he had probably entrusted him with some of Peter’s care. There were stories there, and judging by the last ten minutes, it had not been the first time they had worked and sang together.

The sound of a repressed laugh causes her to turn. She doesn’t know how long Stakar Ogard had been standing behind her, but judging by the quirk of his lips and the moisture in his eyes he’s been there for quite a while.

“Some things never change.” He muses, his gaze never leaving the pair.

She smiles.

“I suppose they don’t.”