captainpoppins (captainpoppins) wrote in valarlogs, @ 2017-10-27 22:39:00 |
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Entry tags: | agent york, yondu udonta |
Who: Yondu and York
When: Backdated way back before Yondu turned blue
Where: A Bar
What: Drinking, making new friends
Rating/Warnings: Lowish? A few cuss words
Status: Completed
Yondu settled down at the bar, beer in hand, glad for the end of the day. He let himself get lost in the din of the conversations around him, letting it turn into a sort of white noise. Today's bounty had been particularly trying as he'd been threatened with a machete which turned into a standoff, which inevitably turned into a foot chase. He really needed to get back into shape. He'd have to look into a gym.
He glanced over to his left and noticed a younger man with a gnarly scar across his face and a blind, white eye. Holy shit, what had happened to this guy? Yondu then noticed the man had that unspoken bearing of a Marine. Recognizing one of his own he grunted, “Hey, Marine. I got your next one.” And he tipped his glass a degree.
York couldn’t drink with Wash anymore. And now that his nephew was getting a little older, he didn’t want to drink at his brother’s house, either. So that meant York was out drinking more on his own, looking for friends to drink with. He was alone tonight with his beer, watching the television over the bar when he heard a man speak to him. York turned to take a look and lifted his almost empty pint glass with a smile. “Cheers, man.”
Yondu smiled back a little and shifted a bit on the stool to face the young man, glancing at the TV. The Dodgers were playing. “Got a team? I’m a Royals fan myself.” He said by way of conversation. He sipped at his beer. He knew he needed to make more friends in this town. Not that he absolutely needed friends, but it would be nice. The boys back home had been his group of buddies, fellow cops and retired military or law enforcement or friends he’d made at the local watering hole. Yondu hated starting over. It just wasn’t his thing. But finding a fellow Marine made the experience less trying.
“Royals are good,” York nodded. “I tend to root for whoever’s local. My brother plays for a local, minor league team near my home town, so I’m always on their side when they’re playing.” Sometimes the local sports bars would play minor league games. York and his brother came in a lot to watch them, drink a beer, and lament not being around to root for him in person. “I guess that means I’m a Dodgers fan now?” York nodded at the television.
Yondu chuckled. “Nah, I can’t do that, root for whatever team wherever I’m at. Then again, I only ever lived mostly in one state, ‘cept when I was in the service, so.” He shrugged. He might have been born in Alabama and lived there for a while, but he was still a kid when they’d moved to Missouri and he’d lived most of his life there. So the Royals were it. “Good for your brother though, that’s cool.”
“Yeah, it was always a dream of his to play ball. He’s out living it up.” York lifted the glass to his lips and took a gulp. It was cold and refreshing. Certainly hit the spot. “My friends call me York,” he said, offering a hand to the other man at the bar. “I figured I should at least thank you properly for the drink.”
“Good for him. Always important to live out your dreams.” He took York’s hand in a firm, solid grip and shook it. “Name’s Yondu.” He took another sip of the cold beer, then gestured to the bartender, ordering York’s second drink. Turning his attention back to the younger man he said, “So, you get that in the Sandbox? Iraq? Or you just piss off the wrong dude at the local watering hole?” There was a sort of smirk as he said it, his a look of understanding between one soldier and another.
Yondu, huh? Yondu and York. What a pair they made. They would have been side by side in alphabetical order in Gym Class, York mused. Maybe. Kinda. Only York wasn’t actually York’s name but a nickname, and he had no idea if Yondu was a first name, a last name, or some other moniker. “Ah, that’s a pretty long story,” York confessed, reaching a hand up to rub over the side of his face. He had some stubble, he’d have to shave. “I wasn’t paying attention. A buddy of mine sustained a pretty serious injury, and I was hit with a chemical bomb. It was overseas. And a long time ago.” At least, it felt like longer and longer every day.
“Jesus,” Yondu remarked. “Sorry. He make it?” He had friends that had stayed in the Corps that had since passed on. Whether killed in battle or from things like disease or alcoholism, his circle of friends had shrunk to a handful over the years.
York nodded. “Yeah, he’s okay. He’s here in Orange County, actually.” He thought about Wash for a moment, and the PTSD, and the alcoholism. It made his heart ache a little. But the way Wash and his girl looked at one another? And the way Wash and Carolina were always there for one another? It almost made York a little jealous of the Rookie. Wash certainly had an interesting and complicated life. York’s was quite boring by comparison. “We ended up in the same county by coincidence, and I’m pretty happy about that.”
“Well damn, ain't that a thing. Gotta love it when things turn out right like that.” Yondu nodded and took a long sip of his beer. He had his own coincidence akin to York’s. “I ended up movin’ here for work and ran into someone from back home myself.” Okay, granted he'd chosen California anyway, but he'd zeroed in on the OC once he'd heard Peter Quill had been living there too. Things hadn't gone as rosy for him as it had York, however. “Course the little shit wasn't exactly as happy to see me as I was him.” A look of exasperation mixed with pain flickered across his craggy face a moment, then it was gone.
“I think my brother felt that way about me when I spent a couple of months sleeping on his sofa.” York gave a grin. At least he’d been helping with the new baby and everything, so he’d earned his keep. Besides, his brother knew he’d do the same for him if their circumstances were reversed. “I can’t imagine why,” York teased, elbowing his new friend playfully. “You came out here for work?”
Yondu chuckled at the nudge. “Yep. Bounty hunter. Used to be a cop back home. It's why Peter wasn't exactly thrilled to see my old ass here. I was the one that arrested him or caught him in some hair brained scheme half the time.” He took another swig of his beer. “Kid's doing good now, keepin’ his nose clean far as I can tell.” Nevermind the barfight they'd nearly gotten into when they'd accidentally come face to face.
“Ah, I understand those delicate relationships,” York said, lifting his beer glass as if in a toast. “To your friend Peter. May he come around sooner rather than later.” A toast to friends, so it was.
Yondu smirked and lifted his glass in return before draining the rest of his beer. Here was to hoping. And if not it seemed at least he'd made a new friend in York. “I got your next drink, buddy.”