InsaneJournal

Yondu was sitting in the small room with his back on the floor and his knees up on the cot. He had on dusty boots and had balled up his leather jacket for a pillow. His knees were aching and he felt his age. It was nice the Guardians were here, especially that lil’ Twig. Rocket was a lot easier to understand after their adventure. Nebula was a mystery. Gamora was scary.

And Peter. He finally was able to admit to him that he loved him-- in one way or another, just to die moments after. Yondu was fine with giving his life for Peter’s. The kid had more going for him than Yondu did-- no longer being a captain of Ravagers. Being exiled. And then outed as the guy who was working for that monster, Ego. He was just thinking about Peter when he heard that door. He ignored it, because people were coming and going-- something about a hairy pot or something.

He remembered the time he taught Peter how to shoot. The kid couldn’t squeeze the trigger properly. And he was always with his finger on that trigger. Don’t put yer finger on it unless yer ready to kill someone.

Suddenly he was very aware someone was standing outside his door and he lazily looked over.

“Well, well, well.”

---

Peter had come the first day. He'd damn near made it to the glass window, too. 'Course, he'd gotten one sideways glance of Yondu, before he'd backed up. He retreated into the hallway and told himself he just needed a minute. He'd leaned up against the hallway wall and he'd tried to calm himself.

It ended up not working and there was no way he was going to go to see Yondu while looking weak.

So, he stayed out, hitting up a bar. Chatting up a girl and going home with her instead of back to the Mansion, where questions about how his visit would have been waiting for him. But that was the first day. And Pete knew that once the 48 hours were up, he wasn't going to be able to avoid it forever. He didn't want to avoid Yondu, either, but he didn't want to fall to pieces. It was a conundrum. If Yondu could show up here, moments before his death, who was to say anyone else couldn't? His Mom?

He wouldn't have been able to keep from losing it if she had shown. But she was a distant memory and he had held onto her through his music for years. Yondu was still fresh. He had nothing to hold onto but lessons and memories; and if they were honest not all of them were pleasant. But, did it matter?

He was still his Dad.

Coming into the doorway, he held his hands on his hips. "Bed not comfortable enough for you?"

---

Yondu smiled with those crooked teeth at Peter. He wondered if the boy would come see him or not. He was supposed to be a Guardian now, Rocket said so. And Yondu needed to belong to something-- the Ravagers exiled him. He had no idea his funeral was attended by all the Ravagers over the cosmos. It was likely no one would tell him, either. Unless Rocket was feeling frisky.

He dragged his feet off the bed and sat up, knees up to his chest. He let out a grunt, because these bones are old, ya know. “It’s not my bed. I don’t know who’s been in it.” It never mattered to him where he slept, his Ravagers usually laid down right where they were standing like puppies. Yondu slept a lot of worse places. To be honest, he was bored and lonely. He wasn’t used to being alone for so long. Kraglin usually was lurking nearby.

“So you decided to bring your fancy ass down here to see your old man.” A sneer shaped on his lips and his tone dripped with sarcasm. “You gonna tell me thank you again?”

---

"Plenty of people been in it," Peter remarked with an ideal shrug of his shoulders. He didn't care one way or another when he'd first arrived. He'd been bone tired and emotionally exhausted. The conversations he'd had with Rocket, and plenty of others, had taken up a good portion of his time; but he'd also caught up on sleep. And there was certainly something comforting about a blanket pulled over your head in times of distress.

Pete could have made an excuse for himself but trouble was that he didn't have any good. He wasn't necessarily proud that he'd waited this long. "Figured I'd come collect you once your time was over," he tossed out conversationally but then Yondu was bringing them circling back to the conversation that Peter had purposefully dropped.

His shoulders tensed, just the way they always did, when he was agitated. "Thought we agreed that discussion was over."

---

Yondu grinned wide. He just watched Peter’s shoulders move in a shrug and into tense. He liked getting Peter upset. He liked it when people showed their hand. Made it easier for him. And yeah, he was purposely trying to upset Peter but that’s just how Yondu showed his love.

“Where y’all livin? I ain’t got a ship so I don’t know where I’m gonna go,” he said, baiting for an invite to live with the Guardians.

Then he let out a chuckle, low and grumbly. “I’m just tryin to get yer goat, Quill. Can’t I have a little fun at your expense? You owe me.” He didn’t want to say that, but for some reason he did. Yondu wasn’t going to hold saving Peter over the man’s head. He didn’t plan on it, at least. But it was in his nature to seek opportunities where they were.

---



Peter's head cocked to the side and he tried to hide his aggravation. He'd told Yondu all of this their initial conversation. "The Avengers Mansion. For now. Rocket's got us a place to stay soon. Just got to finish fixing it up."

He looked off to the side. "Yeah, I gathered that," he huffed before side glancing back to Yondu. His jaw set. "Oh? Now I owe you?"

---

“Oh right. The Avengers. I don’t know them. Where am I supposed to stay?” Again, not sure and showing his need for a moment. He didn’t like to do it.

“The last thing I remember is gettin real cold, boy. I don’t think I made it. I died for you!” He pointed at Peter and stood up as fast as he could. Poking the window. Okay, maybe he did appreciate the thank you.

---


"You're staying with them. We're there, and you're staying with us." Peter wasn't going to have Yondu out on his own. He wanted him with them.

And now Pete was rushing for the window himself. "You think I forgot that?!" He shouted right back at him, anger flashing through his eyes, but the more notable expression was guilt. And mourning. "First you tell me not to talk about it and now you're acting like I'm not grateful!"

---

Yondu rubbed his hands together like a greedy little fly. “Good, good. Gamora said Rocket’s buildin us a place of our own.” He’d prefer that to the Avengers, whoever the fuck they were.

Yondu dropped his head then, and his fin tapped the glass. “Boy, I don’t know what to do about this, I ain’t never had a kid before, let alone one I would die for. I don’t know if we’re supposed to talk about it or not.” He looked back up at him, eyes a little glassy, “Feelins are hard for me, Quill.”

---

"Yeah. Fixing it up. Rocket arranged it all. It's going to be good."

"Not a kid nomore, Yondu," Peter reminded him as he shifted, pressing his shoulder up against the glass. His arms crossed and he leaned, eyes cast downward so he could look at the man pressed against the glass. "I wasn't saying 'thank you' for dying, you know." He then muttered.

"I was saying thanks for being my Dad," he further remarked, and swallowed. He glanced now to the floor.

---

Yondu looked a little surprised in that moment. He for sure thought Peter was thanking him for saving his life. And he didn’t want to hear about it. But then his streak of being an asshole sparked up and he had to rub it in.

Slowly, a smile cracked his face. Crooked teeth and all, between those blue lips that could kill a whole ship of men with a whistle. “It was my pleasure, Peter.”

---

He still kept his head down but he turned it enough so he could look at Yondu again. He gave the smallest of smiles, before adjusting his weight and lifting his head up. "'Course, could have gone without you telling me everyone wanted to eat me. Psychologically scarring that shit is, you know," he said, but his tone was in jest.

He hoped they were good.

---

When Yondu laughed, it echoed off the walls of the tiny room. “Ohhhh that was a good one! You know I wouldn’t let ‘em, though, right?” He walked over to the cot and took a seat. Once settled, he watched Peter through the glass.

“I wouldn’t let ‘em,” he muttered again. Yondu took his eyes off Peter and looked down at his own hands. The silence between them felt … fine. It didn’t hurt. “Okay, go on, get outta here. Come get me tomorrow and we’ll get cow-- hamburgers.”