Who: Yondu Udonta, Peter Quill When: Sunday Where: The Quadrant What: Peter’s dreams quickly turned into nightmares Rating/Warnings: Discussion of canonical character death Status: Green? Yellow? Death talk anyways
Peter had fallen asleep in the pilot’s chair, which wasn’t too unusual for him, considering he’d been staring out into the stars for a while. Plus the fact that Yondu would never let him sit there when he was awake, so Peter always made sure to do it when Yondu was sleeping. What was unusual was the sheer amount of dreaming he’d had.
Ever since his first set, he’d been dreaming in random order. He knew that because sometimes, the same people looked older or younger, his behaviours towards them was different and the way people reacted to him was different. That was fine. Tonight though...those dreams somehow put themselves together in a way that actually made sense...and finally he had a beginning to his story. And an end to Yondu’s.
The dreams had explained Yondu’s role, of kidnapping Peter, of raising him to be a Ravager, of all the horrible fucking things Yondu had put him through. Sure, there were good memories, like the time they’d pranked all of Nova Prime, or when Peter taught Yondu how to trick or treat (that was still one of his favourite hustles) but those were all stolen moments. Stolen. Like Peter was.
And then like one of those old fashioned view finders, Peter was flying off a planet with Yondu and he had to relive every moment, every single moment, of watching Yondu die right in front him, just as he had realized how much the older man meant to him. How much of a father he’d always had there. Because at the end of the day, what man was a perfect father? Peter knew that if he ever had kids, he’d be the biggest fuck up ever. That was a fact. So why was he so hard on Yondu? The guy had tried his best and he sure as hell hadn’t signed up for a snotty ass alien kid….
Fuck.
Peter suddenly had a horrible thought -- how many people had complained about dreams becoming reality? Did Peter just dream Yondu away? Was the older man here or not? If Peter had to go through this right now, he’d basically have a heart attack and die. Right there. Legit.
He wasn’t going to get back to sleep, not with his eyes watering the way they were and his heart pounding as fast as it was. Padding through the ship, he wiped his nose on the hem of his t-shirt and walked to Yondu’s quarters. This part of the ship was absolutely off-limits, which meant Peter regularly liked to go in and steal Yondu’s sweatpants. That being said, tonight, he just had to see Yondu. Know he was alive. And if the fucker tried to shoot him, well Peter would just be an ass and say “I love you, Dad” as his dying words.
The door pushed open easily enough, and Peter peeked his head in. “Yondu,” he whispered loudly, trying hard not to sniff. “Yondu…...YONDU!”
Enough with the quiet.
“YONDU ARE YOU DEAD? ARE YOU DYING? ANSWER ME!”
The Captain's Quarters was pitch black, making the spacious room feel more like an endless vacuum. Yondu kept it that way so if Peter decided to try to sneak in and pull something the kid would probably trip over something and get caught red handed. Yondu of course forgot smartphones had flashlights. Still, it was a kind of security that helped him sleep better on a ship that didn't have it's actual crew.
And he was sleeping hard tonight. Space did that to him lately. So he hadn't heard Peter at all until his voice cut through like an alarm. Yondu had been dreaming of Taserface taking over his ship and sending those of his crew still loyal to him out of the airlock. It was a horrible dream he hadn't had for nearly a year and not something he'd ever wanted to revisit.
So it was with alarm, disorientation and rage he woke and immediately whistled his Yaka arrow to action - the bright red flame streaking across the inky darkness, stopping short and illuminating the face of the intruder…
"Quill?" Yondu's voice growled, thick with sleep. He sat up and rubbed at his face. "What the hell is goin' on?" His brain was still trying to process that Taserface, Nebula and the rest weren't here, that he was actually awake now.
By now, the Yaka arrow meant nothing really. After all, Peter was used to it. Even more so now that he knew he’d lived under its red threat for almost his entire life.
Because this man. This cantankerous, old asshole had basically raised him.
And sure -- Yondu had kidnapped him. Taught him how to be a space pirate -- correction: the best DAMN space pirate there was. And they fought and hated each other and betrayed one another and kept doing the same thing over and over and over again …
But his mom was dead. His grandfather didn’t know how to raise him (clearly). Was he better off in space? All he could do was look at his life now, and his life in the dreams and realize that hindsight was really 20/20. Everyone else seemed to bitch about their dreams but Peter’s life sucked here. It had. He’d fucked up right, left, centre, and right again only to end up where? With Yondu. And the fucker was alive and well in front of him.
His voice, thick with tears, could only say one thing to Yondu’s question.
“I’m never saying this again, so I hope it’s burned in your memory, you asshole. You fucking saved me from my shitty ass dad, and you’re more one than he ever was. There AND here. I should’ve listened to you when I was younger. I should’ve. I wouldn’t even be here if wasn’t for you, and fuck. I am such an ungrateful little shit and that won’t fucking change, but I just want you to know I recognize that.”
Okay wait...was he still dreaming? Like that weird movie Peter made him watch that one time where there were dreams within dreams. Yondu pinched himself in the leg. Nope. He was very much awake.
Nearly invisible himself in the darkness, Yondu stared at Peter's illuminated face as the words started to sink in. His brow furrowed; was the boy crying?
Oh shit.
The realization hit him like a ton of bricks and he literally felt winded. Peter must have dreamt of Ego. And if he'd dreamt of the sentient planet and was in tears…
Yondu rose from his bed, barking "Lights!" at the same time, not hearing the slight break in his own rough hewn voice. The room's lights bloomed into existence, the soft glow revealing the full image of Peter's grief stricken face: puffy eyes glistening with unshed tears, his features screwed up in that familiar angry expression that was his way of being sad; unbidden, Yondu's mind brought up the image of Peter's face from the dreams by way of comparison - it had been a more horrorstruck expression mingled with panic - illuminated by the stars around them as Yondu claimed Peter as his son with his dying breath.
His heart ached. He'd finally done right by Peter in the dreams by saving his life, but it had cost him his own, and that had been the worst way possible for Peter who had suffered loss already.
Closing the distance between them with swift steps he snatched the arrow and tossed it aside before grabbing Peter into an immense bear hug. Choked up on sobs he refused to let out, Yondu mumbled into Peter's shoulder "You are an ungrateful little shit. But you're my ungrateful little shit…" his voice broke on his next words. "And I still love you, son. Always will." And he said it in a way where there was no mistaking that he wasn't using Southern slang.
That was it.
The point of no return.
Whatever tears Peter had hiding inside came flooding out, along with his runny nose and words that couldn’t stop coming out.
“Fuck...FUCK.” Peter tightened his grip around Yondu, almost mimicking the older man’s pose with his face buried deeply into Yondu’s opposite shoulder. “Are you sure you’re not really my dad? I mean, there’s DNA tests and all sorts of things these days…” And then he stopped himself when he realized really, truly, what Yondu had just said to him.
“I love you too, old man,” he choked out. When was the last time someone had said that to him? His grandfather? No...his mother. That was the last time he heard that sentence with the same sincerity and feeling that he heard in Yondu’s voice. Almost 30 years. It tore something inside him, while at the same time, he knew it was the beginning of actually rebuilding something.
“And just so you know...don’t ever fucking do that again, got it?! What the fuck was wrong with you, saving my loser ass? I’m half God or some shit -- I could’ve handled it! We only had to wait like 1 more minute before Gamora saved us, and no, you had to give it all up for what? MY ungrateful ass? Fuck, you’re stupid.”
As Peter sobbed into Yondu's shoulder, it took all of the older man's strength not to do the same. He wasn't good at emotions. He never had been. As Peter wielded snarkiness as a weapon, Yondu had swung around a club of surliness to cover up as much as he could. Wasn't that what he had told Rocket in the dreams? He was a professional asshole. When he was a teenager. When Peter was a teenager. In the dreams. Today.
But not right in this moment. This sudden openness between them was bewildering and scary.
And yet...wasn't this what he'd wanted all along? Just for he and Peter to stop bitching at each other for five seconds and act like father and son. Just for a moment.
When Peter asked him if he really was his father, the pain of losing Meredith and not being Peter's biological father rushed to the surface, long buried in years of bitterness and frustration. Peter's mother had been the only woman Yondu had loved, albeit from a distance. And when by letter she had asked him to look after the boy 'in case anything happened' he had held good to that promise. The dreams had only enhanced everything, giving him memories and experiences he wished they'd had here - even with all its dysfunction.
Between that and the 'I love you' - that, well, both actually, did him in.
Yondu gasped and let out a sob, trying to keep his shit together. It was no use - too much was out in the open now. His vision blurred until the tears started streaming down his face. The two of them stood there, hugging the other and crying their heads off like babies.
No, like men who hadn't talked anything out in decades. Like a father and son that had gotten separated from the other by death.
As Peter berated him for his heroism, Yondu let out a tear filled chuckle and managed to growl, "Dammit boy don't you ever shut up?" And he kept laughing, a deep, bubbling, throaty chuckle. "I promise I won't die trying to save your scrawny ass again." And he gave Peter an extra squeeze before finally breaking the hug. He pawed at Peter's head with a teasing swipe. "Look at you! Eyes all puffy. Snot all over your face. You look like shit." But he was grinning as he said it.
Peter wiped at his face with the back of his hand, and stepped away from Yondu. He felt like he’d run a marathon and Yondu didn’t look too good either, but that was fine. It was all fine. Better than fine. He finally got the words out and felt pretty damn good.
And then he stopped and looked at Yondu.
Really looked at him.
“You seem like you’ve been expecting this…..you have, haven’t you? You’re done your dreams…….were you waiting for this?” He was curious, like always, and he felt vulnerable enough to actually ask. Maybe Yondu would be honest. Maybe not. “Because you know what? I’m not that asshole. I mean, I AM an asshole, but not that one. I don’t want to wait until you’re dead to really get how important you are. I’m not going to start calling you dad or anything..not when old man works just as well.”
Yondu felt like an enormous weight had been lifted off of his shoulders. Finally he and Peter were on the same page dream wise! They'd even managed to finally come to grips with their unresolved issues from them.
He was going to explain to Peter that yes, he’d dreamt everything before Peter had even gotten out of prison, but it was the last thing tumbling out of the younger man’s mouth that got him first. His brow furrowed and his lips turned down in the disapproving frown he usually had.
“Whaddya mean you ain’t callin’ me dad? After this whole mess we just had you think ‘old man’ is gonna be it?” he blurted, gesturing with a sweeping arm. “Ten seconds ago you was asking me if I was your real daddy, now callin’ me that ain’t good enough for you?” He was almost bristling. “And yeah...I knew this was comin’. Ain’t no good way of tellin’ you your actual ‘old man’ was a jackass planet, let alone that I was gonna up an’ die. Figured it best you dreamt it for yourself.”
“What, you want to be called dad?” Peter actually thought Yondu would want to be called anything but that. After all, the man had never had any children and the dreams kind of told him Yondu had never really cared much for Peter as a child either. “I like calling you old man! That’s my word for you! Other people use it, but fuck, if you’re going to get all pissy, then I will call you DAD. How’s that sound?”
It was actually a little odd saying that word. Peter had never had a father, never had someone to call that, and it felt strange in his mouth.
“And for the record, I never called Ego ‘Dad’ either! I just ...called him...nothing. Ego. I guess. Planet loser. Whatever.” Peter shook his head at those memories.
How quickly they went from crying to not to anger and he knew at some point, all of this would hit him again and he’d start crying again.
Fuck. He needed to not be so in touch with his feelings.
Peter glared. “Dad.”
Yondu glared back, scowling. Now Peter was just being an ass. Dream him hadn't given two rats asses about being called 'dad' because he had his own childhood trauma to deal with regarding his parents. Being sold into slavery to the Kree did that to a person. But here...here it was different. He'd had parents, even if his father had left when he was a kid. Had he been scared to ever settle down and be a father? Hell yeah. But he would have if Meredith had been willing. He'd been friendzoned until her dying day, however. He supposed that's where the preference for Peter to recognize him as a father figure came from. That and the guilt he still carried with him from the dreams about what a crappy parental figure he'd been.
A silence fell between them. It stretched into an awkward muteness. Finally Yondu spoke, hands on his hips, looking everywhere but at Peter, his expression having softened as he realized how odd it did sound to be called Dad.
"How 'bout we table that for another time. Try it out down the road. Old man's good for now." He sniffled then, and remembering his still wet face, pulled his undershirt off with its tear soaked shoulder and wiped his face with the dry part. Then he blew his nose into the shirt, crumpled it and tossed it into a corner. Ravager habit. They didn't exactly have kleenex in space. Though he realized maybe he should get a couple boxes for the ship anyway; he made a mental note to swing by Walmart later.
When Yondu took his shirt off, Peter realized that his wasn’t much better. In an almost perfect mimicry of Yondu, he did the same thing -- wiped his face, took the shirt off and tossed it before pausing and starting to chuckle.
“Fuck, you really did raise me, didn’t you?” And now that he was laughing, he couldn’t stop. This yo-yo of emotions was a trip, and he knew the crash would be the worst. Even the way the two of them were standing, slightly slouched, hands now crammed in pockets …
How had Peter never seen this before? Or had he just not wanted to see what was so obviously in front of him?
“For the record,” he blurted out. “If my mom was anything like me … it’s easier to push people away than let them in. I mean ...my granddad ..here, not there, but here, he wasn’t the easiest man to live with and I think she made some bad choices and tried to fix them by letting you in through me...I don’t know what I’m saying. Or maybe I do. It’s just … I’m sure she loved you too, Yondu. And she’d be really happy right now. I’m happy. Even if I’m going to start to cry again.”
He sniffed loudly, regretting that his shirt was now in a pile.
“Can we go shoot something? Or like ..punch a wall?” He looked away and mumbled. “Or maybe hug again…”
Yondu was used to Peter’s constant torrent of words. The kid talked his head off in the dreams and here it was no different. Peter also tended to do it more when he was nervous or having to deal with feelings like this.
But mentioning Meredith and his assurance she loved Yondu, well that was bringing him back to the verge of tears too. It touched him deep inside, wherever he hid his heart away from the world, that Peter would even bother to think that his mother cared for Yondu that much.
Without a word he pulled Peter into a quick hug again, barely getting out a “thank you” before pulling back and draping an arm around his shoulders. “I think all this deserves a whole mess of beer and a helluva lot of shootin’ things. C’mon. I’ll let you drive us to the asteroid belt.”