Work Text:
“Are you gonna keep up that wailin’ all night or are you gonna come to supper?”
“I’m not wailing!” Peter wailed into his pillow. Yondu undoubtedly rolled his eyes at that, but Peter refused to look up at him to see for sure.
The bed dipped as Yondu helped himself to a seat beside him on the narrow mattress. “I know I wasn’t that hard on ya.” He really hadn’t been, Peter reluctantly had to admit. At least not any harder than normal. It had just been a dozen or so solid whacks to his backside, with just his hand at that, and he hadn’t even taken Peter’s pants down or nothin’. But! It had been in the middle of the damn command room with a whole bunch (okay, Kraglin and three other crew members) of people watching. Peter had been mortified, and he just knew everyone had been getting a kick out of him getting treated like a little baby. It didn’t help that Yondu had made him sit with him for the rest of the shift, loudly saying that he needed to keep an eye on him. Everyone must’ve been laughing, and he would’ve heard them too if his ears hadn’t been burning and ringing so loud the whole time.
“You could’ve at least waited ‘til there was no one around.” Peter grumbled, pointedly pressing his face further into his pillow. Let that serve Yondu a lesson; if he was gonna be a big blue jerk and embarrass Peter, then he wasn’t gonna look at him or go to supper or nothin’. Peter’d have given him the silent treatment if he wasn’t pretty sure that would be seen as just a step too rude and earn him an even sorer ass.
“You didn’t wait ‘til we were alone to steal from me.”
“We’re literally fucking space pirates! Stealing is what we do.” Peter was never sure if his English cusses translated properly or not, but they always felt good to shout either way.
“Exactly. We steal from other morons, not our capt’ns.”
“Very Robin Hood of you.” Peter scoffed.
“What’s that?”
He shrugged. “I think he was like a bank robber or something. I dunno, he maybe dressed like a fox too.” Yondu didn’t ask what a fox or bank robber was despite Peter being pretty sure they were just an Earth thing.
“Look, if you’d’ve taken that little trinket at a job I’d’ve givin’ you a clap on the back not a smack on the ass. But you stole it from me, Petey.” A finger flicked one of Peter’s ears. “So quit actin’ shocked that you got yer ass whooped.”
He honestly hadn’t been too shocked, not about catching it at least. But normally when he was in trouble, Yondu at least had the decency to haul him off somewhere private (like his room. or Yondu’s room. or a supply closet. or an empty hallway… there were very few places he hadn’t had his ass handed to him on this ship, come to think of it). While the crew took their lumps–or arrows–whenever and wherever they pissed the Captain off, his Terran shadow had never been subject to the same standards. Ultimately, the privacy of his whoopings didn’t do that much for his ego in the long run, seeing as everyone could easily guess what activity he was being hauled off for. But still. The illusion of it being between just him and Yondu was important to him. If he’d known that illusion would be shattered today, he probably wouldn’t have tried to pocket that little green rock some client had gifted Yondu, no matter how cool it looked when the light hit it just right. Which, he supposed, was maybe possibly potentially why Yondu had done it, seeing as how Peter had no plans of doing something dumb like that ever again now.
Honestly, Peter just wished Yondu would leave him to wallow in peace already, but he seemed to be settling in for the long haul. Peter could hear him kicking off his boots and felt him stretching his legs out across Peter’s bed, leaning back on the headboard. A warm hand rested on Peter’s upper back. It was comforting, but also really cutting into his ability to properly sulk. Big blue jerk.
A bony knee jabbed into Peter’s side, making him huff. “Comfy?”
Yondu missed, or more likely ignored, his sarcasm because he just shifted slightly to take up even more room. “Yup.” He popped the P, giving Peter’s back a friendly pat.
“Can you just go away already?” Peter was unhappy but unsurprised by the smack that landed on his ass.
“Didn’t I whack that lip outta you? Did I not do a good enough job?” Yondu’s hand was back to resting on his back, but it felt more threatening now.
Peter finally turned his head, feeling like that question needed a direct line of sight in order to properly scowl. “I was in trouble for stealing, not sass.”
“You can be in deep for two things at once, brat.” Yondu wagged a mocking finger at him. Peter snapped his teeth at it, nearly catching the digit. “Nice try.” Yondu poked his forehead. “You done makin’ a fuss now?”
Peter deepened his definitely very intimidating glare. (No it did not make him look like one of those zabu kitten things despite what Kraglin always insisted). “No. I’m mad at you and I’m always gonna be mad at you.”
“Well alright then.” Although that had clearly been his dismissal of the Captain, Yondu instead threw an arm around Peter’s shoulders and tugged him close. Peter let out an oomph as his face and torso were forcibly pressed against Yondu’s chest, practically lying on top of him.
“Lemme go.” He gave a futile shove at the leather clad chest. “I said I’m mad at you.”
“Heard ya loud and clear, Petey.” Yondu placed a playful–or, as close to playful as he ever got–swat on Peter’s backside. “You can pout all ya want right there.”
“I am not pouting!”
“Really? You sure?” Yondu pulled his head back slightly to eye Peter’s face critically. “Hmm, that right there looks like a big ol’ pout to me.” He prodded at Peter’s downturned (scowling!) mouth.
Peter batted the hand away. “Would you quit pokin’ at me?” Just his rotten luck that on the one night he actually wanted to be left alone, Yondu decided to be some clingy pain in his ass. Usually he would’ve been perfectly happy to not have Peter joining him at supper; he was always complaining about Peter asking him a million questions or annoying him at their table. Practically every night he’d wind up threatening to either put Peter himself on the menu for the next meal or (and probably a more credible threat) to make him start eating with the rest of the crew. That would suck. As much as Peter was annoyed by the smug accusations that got thrown his way–of favoritism and being the Captain’s pet, he could admit that he did get some real perks no one else did. His own room for one (which definitely smelled better than the crew bunks). And a seat at the Captain’s private dining table for another. Yondu’s table got the best choices for food, and he didn’t have to watch–or, worse, hear–the disgusting ways most of the crew ate. Nobody had taught those guys that it was polite to chew with your mouth closed. Peter’s mom would probably have been very proud that he was always the one with the best table manners in the room.
Of course, Peter also got some negative anti-perks though as the Captain’s ‘pet’. Hence his sore ass and bruised ego.
Yondu did eventually quit poking him, but he didn’t release him. Peter remained trapped on top of Yondu, an arm snaked tightly around his middle. He could feel Yondu’s chest rising with his breathing, and he smelled like those bacarra seeds he liked to chew on. It was an unfortunately pleasant combination for someone trying to remain mad.
When Yondu’s free hand gently rubbed through his hair, scratching softly, he decided that Yondu must’ve read some playbook on dirty tricks tonight.
The sigh Peter let out sounded far more content than he wanted to come across, so he had to follow it up with another glare aimed at Yondu. That just got him a sharp toothed grin and a tug on the ends of his hair. “Face it, kid, you can’t stay pissy with me. Holdin’ grudges has never been your strength.”
“Is so! I’m still mad at Melanie Guthrie.”
“What for?”
“She put gum in my hair in first grade.” Peter shuddered at the memory. “Took mom ages to get it out. And I had a bad haircut for a month ‘cuz she had to cut some of it.”
“What’s gum?”
“This sticky stuff you chew. It’s sweet sometimes.” Peter theatrically mimed chewing gum and puffed out his cheeks like he was blowing a bubble. He blew the air out at Yondu, air and some saliva spraying the man.
Yondu wiped the wetness of his cheek, thankfully bemused. “What’s first grade?”
“It’s like a year in school.” At the continued confused expression he added, “School’s where kids go to learn boring crap. Like math.”
“Should I be havin’ you do this school thing?”
“God no.” Not having school was basically the best part of the whole abducted-by-aliens thing.
Mercifully, Yondu left it at that. He shifted Peter so his chin rested on top of Peter’s head. The gesture became less nice when Yondu proceeded to open and close his mouth a few times, purposefully digging his chin into Peter’s skull. “Would you knock it off?” Peter elbowed him in the stomach with marginal result. That was definitely just because Yondu was wearing his jacket and not because Peter had scrawny arms, no matter what Kraglin said.
The chin stopped digging, but a pat to his hip signaled the end of whatever this had been. “Come on, Terran. Yer gonna get up and come eat. And yer not gonna pout the whole blasted time or I’ll throw you in the stew tomorrow.” Yondu gently shoved Peter off his chest, standing up off the bed. Peter got a good kick out of hearing all his joints popping in protest over the act of getting up. Old man. Once standing, he reached out and lifted Peter up, two big hands under his armpits. He pulled Peter to fully stand as well, his protests going ignored. “And then!” Yondu said, voice louder to be heard over Peter’s own, “and then we’ll go to command and have some flyin’ practice.” Peter immediately shut his mouth, teeth clacking audibly together, mid-complaint. Flying practice in the Eclector was a very rare treat. On the occasions Yondu finally gave into Peter’s requests (re: begging, pleading, and tantrumming) for flight lessons, he almost always just took him in one of the smaller ships. He always swore Peter would somehow manage to ruin the Eclector if he was allowed to practice in it too often. This was as close to a peace offering as Yondu ever got, and Peter wasn’t about to be fool enough to pass it up.
“Well what are you waiting for then? Let’s go.” Yondu gave a barking laugh at Peter’s words, as Peter snagged Yondu’s hand and tugged him out of his room towards the mess hall.