Who: Yondu Udonta, Peter Quill When: March Where: Yondu’s backyard What: It’s raining parts Rating/Warning: TBD Status: Green, language
Since meeting Nine, Peter had actually managed to hit up most of the free morning exercises. Having gotten into good shape during his five years in prison, he found he was enjoying exercising. It was easy to sit and eat and do nothing but he could remember how hard it was to get his killer abs in the first place -- he wasn’t about to give that up.
When he left that morning at 7, he’d cut through the backyard, liking to leave the house through the porch rather than the loud front door. He didn’t like waking Kraglin up unless he had to. That morning, everything looked exactly the same as always -- green grass, a shed, random patio furniture. Coming back was another story though. Suddenly, there were tarps thrown around haphazardly, and loose rope tying it down. The mounds were ...strangely shaped and Peter couldn’t help his curiousity. He set down his gym bag, and kicked the piles gingerly. It was hard. Strangely hard. Like electronic parts, hard.
Peter reached up and scratched his head, one hand on his hip as he looked around. It couldn’t be dead bodies. That would smell bad. “Yondu?,” Peter called out warily. “A robot puked on your lawn...and I don’t wanna be the one to clean it up…”
Yondu had gotten up late, the perks of being a bounty hunter and calling his own shots. Being a former Marine, though, sleeping “late” generally meant until 8 or 9. When he'd walked barefoot and bleary eyed into the kitchen, he had to pinch himself to make sure he really was awake. Then he'd cussed up a storm. The sight of a pile of ship parts in his backyard - AGAIN - was not a welcome one. He knew for a fact that he and Anakin had all the parts of the Quadrant at the junkyard. This was something else. After the initial shock wore off, Yondu had gotten to the task of covering it up best he could, knowing that he would never get it all out of the yard before Peter got back from his Yoga class.
Now he stood in the kitchen again, where he'd happened to be refilling his cup of coffee when Peter arrived. He'd taken a quick shower and knew he'd need another cup of joe to deal with all of Peter's questions. Yondu had taken the liberty of pouring in a shot of whiskey for added fortification.
“Too bad!” He called loudly from within the house, so that his voice could be heard through the sliding screen doors. Sauntering up to them he pushed one aside and stepped out onto the porch. Kraglin appeared out of nowhere and bounded into the yard, curious at the new stuff. “This is gonna be our Tuesday. Kraglin! Don't you dare pee on that!” He suddenly snapped at the dog who had taken too much interest in one edge of the tarps.
Peter glanced at Yondu, who seemed way too relaxed for this. Obviously, this wasn’t the first time for Yondu. “What is all this?” He nudged Kraglin out of the way with his foot, and peeked under the tarp, feeling happy when he saw it was indeed robot parts. Or something.
Straightening up, he picked up his bag and headed back to the landing where he dropped his things with a thud. Coffee looked like a good idea. “Is this dream stuff?” Peter didn’t wait for an answer before going into the kitchen, calling out like Yondu did before. “That’s so cool! What are you going to do with it? That’s a lot of shit, you have no backyard right now, and and you’re totally right -- Kraglin’s going to piss on it and then what? How do you get pee out of metal?”
He came back out, wearing a jersey long-sleeve, holding a hot cup of coffee. Black. Yum. “So? What you gonna do?”
Yondu closed his eyes with a small groan of frustration. Peter and his questions. In the dreams he'd been the same as a kid, peppering he and the crew about any and everything. He took a long sip of his coffee, grateful for the momentary silence as Peter went to get a shirt he presumed.
“Well. We gotta sort it, first off. Then we gotta find a place to build this sucker. And yes, Pete,” he choked down a ‘’Quill’ as that was his kneejerk habit from the dreams. “It’s from the dreams.” He couldn't take him to the junkyard yet. His other ship was there and he knew Peter wasn't ready for that.
Peter perked up that. The dream stuff was cool, and he would be lying if he hadn’t said he was expecting some of that stuff to be his. Had Yondu mentioned anything about dreams before? Everyone else got cool shit from their dreams, why not him? “Why can’t we build it here?” The words slipped out before he could process them… like usual, really. Not because of the ‘where’ but Peter didn’t doubt that he could build a spaceship. His last set of dreams, which hadn’t really changed all month, had given him a sense of confidence that the tinkering he liked to do was rooted in something more than he thought. He’d always liked putting things together, but now he was pretty sure he understood exactly how things worked together.
And ships seemed to make sense to him. So obviously this had to be a spaceship.
Peter didn’t actually care whose though. All he wanted to was to put it together.
“We could probably load up both trucks if you HAVE to get it out of here ...but come on, Yondu! Let’s do it here!”
Yondu frowned. “We ain't buildin’ no spaceship in the backyard!” But he didn't exactly have an alternative at the moment, however. Growling in frustration he added, “least not the whole thing. We can start it here. But then we gotta find a place to store it. Backyard ain't barely big enough to fit this thing once she's done.” He stood there looking cranky, but really inside there was a growing well of excitement. Perhaps building an M ship might help bring about more memories for Peter. There was no guarantee but Yondu was tired of keeping all the dream memories they shared to himself.
“So it is a spaceship…” Peter had already dubbed it so in his head, and he would have been slightly disappointed if it was a car or something. “That’s so cool. Space. So cool.” He was a little bit speechless, something that almost never happened with Peter. It was just that his dreams, which were now a regular part of his sleep, were starting to gain more and more depth. It was usually the same series, the same story, the same progression but the details -- the DETAILS were more intense. He could feel his annoyance with Drax, the resentment towards Thor, the pure and utter hatred for Thanos...and that love, that love with Gamora. He had no idea who she was, or where she was from...he wondered how that would translate if she ever did come into his life here. Those were thoughts for another time though. Maybe a drunk Peter time.
And then the new dreams..well. He was still processing those.
“Where do we begin? Oh man, Yondu. Did I tell you I fly one of these in my dreams? I am the best pilot. Legit. Hands-down. Captain of my own ship too.” He looked at the piles dreamily. “No one can say anything to this boss.”
Yondu chuckled to himself, almost misty eyed. He had vivid dream memories of his own, of teaching the scrawny little Terran how to fire a blaster, steal things, and most importantly pilot a ship. Peter had taken to piloting like a fish to water, which was something that had always made Yondu proud. Not that he had done a good job of showing it much.
“Well boss,” Yondu clapped him on the shoulder with a wry smile, “Get your ipod and the portable speaker. And be quick about it!” Yondu waited until Peter was inside the house to pull out the box of alien tools from under the porch; they’d need to properly put this thing together. There was only so much human technology such as welders, screws and the like could do for something like this. He was just thankful the tools had shown up when one of the piles of Quadrant pieces had. Sitting down on the porch he continued to sip his coffee with a sigh, deciding he’d let Peter have the fun of taking off the tarps he’d foolishly put on there - as if that would have hidden much of anything. Yondu wasn’t sure why he’d even bother trying. Old habits, he supposed; after all he didn’t want the neighbors calling the cops on him again, thinking him a hoarder. He whistled for Kraglin to come over and the dog loped over, sitting down at the base of the steps and looking back up at him for a head scratch.
“You got no idea who you’re named after, buddy. Was a good XO...till he turned on me, anyways.” Yondu said, scratching the mutt behind the ears.
Peter heard nothing more after Yondu told him to get his music. Bounding into the house, he threw his gym bag into his room and grabbed his things, only stopping to drain his coffee cup and leave it by the sink. With a skip to his step, he looked at the tarps, looked at Yondu and decided that he was going to lift up the tarps. And boy, was he happy. It was absolutely what he thought it was. The first mound looked like a console, and without thinking, Peter blurted out. “Okay, we’ll need a spanner, preferably a Manglorian crystal one. I mean, that’s the nav screen and frick...no chance we’re going to find the energy core we need, is there?”
Yondu drained his mug and set it aside before standing. “Nope. Not yet anyway. It'll show up eventually. And ya’ might want to start with the outside of the ship 'fore you start tinkering with consoles.” He held out a Nova welder and glasses, then went to starting to sort the more manageable pieces. “I'll set up all the interior stuff over this way, give you some space.”
Peter waved a dismissive hand, already focused on the task at hand. It was a comfortable silence between the two of them, working together with hardly no yelling -- something that Peter wasn’t entirely used to.
But he knew it was normal at times. The proof was in his dreams, which were starting to show Yondu. Yondu, coming in to save him outside of a really weird trash-collector’s planet. The effortless conversation they had, spattered with their usual angry repertoire. It was so them and now this? It was perfect and amazing so naturally Peter had to stir shit up.
“So….do you put on a lot of make up in the morning to make yourself all pink and shit? ‘Cuz it looks like Maybelline, but if it is -- you gotta talk to a drag queen or something. You can’t blend worth shit.”
Yondu didn't exactly freeze when Peter said that, even if the words did make him pucker for a second. Had he finally slipped up and Peter had seen him in his true form? It was nearly impossible: he only turned off the image inducer - the hologram projecting device he wore to make himself look human - when he was in his room or in the bathroom adjacent to it.
Then it struck him: finally the kid had started dreaming about him and the Ravagers! It was about damn time.
Yondu had to play it cool. He didn't know what exactly Peter had dreamed. But he had to find out. He slowly set down another section of control panel, the silence filled in by John Mellencamp's “Hurt so Good” coming from the portable speaker. Yondu turned to him, brow furrowed. “The hell you going on about?”
"Oh nothing much," Peter responded casually. "I just know you got some blue balls down there, which, frankly? Explains a whole hell of a lot about you and your weird obsession to keep me celibate."
He didn't bother looking over to Yondu as he continued talking, too intent on the work in front of him. "Got some more memories. Real douchemove, not telling me we're from the same place, but I guess that explains a lot 'bout why we're doomed to spend all our time together."
For once, Yondu was at a loss for words. He stared at Peter as the younger man worked and didn't seem at all freaked out at the possibility that he'd been living with an alien this whole time. Then, slowly, Yondu's brow furrowed and he went back to sorting, keeping one eye on Peter as he talked. Time to try to gaslight the kid and see what exactly he knew before he showed him his hand.
“You been smoking pot again, boy? You know that stuff messes with your head.”
Peter gave Yondu what he hoped was a dismissive look. In actuality, he had absolutely no proof at all. It was just a feeling , something inside that was sure Yondu had to be there. The new dreams, they weren't clear yet, not like the old ones. What he got was a haze of blue, a familiar voice, a sense of 'well, I fucked up again but he deserved it' that he only felt when Yondu was around.
And Peter had a feeling that he wouldn't have survived without..whoever this blue figure was. So, survey says -- Yondu.
"Only college kids wake and bake," Peter retorted back before clearing his throat. "Can we have like a rule that the next five minutes are no bullshit? I know you're there, somewhere. I don't know HOW you fit in, but if it's the same as here, you've probably saved my ass a few times. So." Peter shrugged. "Thanks?"
Well that didn't narrow things down at all, except that Peter was dreaming of when Yondu was alive in that universe. He stopped what he was doing at the ‘thanks’, however. “I think that's the first time you've thanked me for saving your hide.” And realized too late that in a way, he had just confirmed they shared a dream universe. Then again, if the Ravager coat he favored wearing and the flying arrow weren't dead giveaways already, he'd have to wonder just how clueless Peter might actually be.
Yondu peered at him. “What exactly you been dreamin’ of?” It clearly wasn't the Thanos and Thor stuff, which Peter had told him about; that all was after Yondu had passed on.
Peter hesitated slightly. What HAD he been dreaming of? “It’s not ...as clear as the other stuff,” he started off slowly. Sitting down on the grass, his knees up, he dangled his arm across the top. “All I know is I’m on ...a planet. Somewhere. And shit goes down, like it always does. I see the same crew as before, the green girl, the blue guy….a furry thing. Words were said, guns were pointed at each other, whatever, no biggie.” He cocked his head. “You know anything about this?”
Yondu sighed audibly though it came out more like a “Hooo,” without the 'boy’ at the end. He rubbed the back of his neck and took a few steps closer to Peter. Time to fess up. “The green girl's Gamora. Daughter of Thanos, notorious assassin, hot as hell. Liable to cut your balls off if you look at her the wrong way. Furry thing is Rocket. Thievin’, professional asshole, talkin’ raccoon.” He paused, gauging whether or not to do this; Peter looked confused as hell but hungry for information. The kid was liable to either run for the hills or turn what Yondu would prefer to be a bonding moment into a shouting match.
To hell with it; he'd waited this moment out as long as he could and knew he really didn't want to any longer. Lifting his arm in front of him he pushed up his sleeve to reveal the image inducer. “As for the blue guy. Well…” He switched it off, his human image - caucasian skin and features, curly hair, blue eyes and normal teeth - were replaced with his bold blue alien skin, scarred face, red eyes and tall fin, and a set of very mangled and menacing teeth. “You're lookin’ at him.”
To Peter’s credit, he didn’t jump, shriek like a little girl, or pee his pants, all reactions that would probably be reasonable. Instead, he tilted his head and looked at Yondu with a rather neutral look on his face as a sense of recognition dawned in his eyes. This was the missing piece. “You pointed a frackin’ arrow in my face,” Peter said, grinning slowly. “But I’m pretty sure I’d fucked you over again, so I guess we’re even.”
He bent over and started to tinker again, processing the rest of what Yondu had said. Yeah, he remembered Rocket. He was in his other set of dreams, Drax too. He didn’t know where the others were, Mantis, Groot…. And like always, he tried his best not to think of Gamora. He could sense there was a significant amount of time between the first dreams and the last ones ...so that meant he’d been with the same people for how long. And Yondu … wait, where was Yondu in the last set of dreams?
This was bothering him now.
“I don’t think I want to know everything yet,” he blurted out. A fear had washed over him suddenly, and Peter didn’t give into fright easily. Still. He’d heard enough about how people’s dreams changed them, and damnit, he liked how things were right now. “So maybe we make a deal. If I ask a question and I’m right, tell me. If I’m wrong, maybe tell me. If it’s something that’s going to make me punch a wall, let me figure it out on my own.” A pause. “And you look better blue. You can’t see how fucking old and gross you really are.”
Well that wasn't quite the reaction Yondu had been expecting. He wasn't sure if he was relieved or disappointed at the lack of fear or flailing. But then Peter mentioned the arrow and Yondu knew precisely what Peter was dreaming. He matched Peter's grin with one of his own.
“Wasn't th’first time.” He chose to omit the fact that he had literally been ready to kill Peter in front of his crew - even if he was betting on Peter to pull something out of his ass last second to save his skin, which he did. It was a moment from the dreams he didn't relish. “And yeah, ya’ did. You stole that dang infinity stone from us and it ended up in Ronin's hands. We were gonna sell it. Big payday.”
When Peter went back to tinkering Yondu frowned deeply. That was it? He was about to protest the lack of interest when the kid opened his mouth again and sassed about Yondu's human appearance.
“Screw you, Quill.” Yondu threw out casually with a wry smile, turning back to sorting. Whatever. Maybe this was a good thing, just rolling along with the OC weirdness, dreams and all. After a moment of silent working he then added belatedly, “I ain't makin’ no promises 'bout the dreams, neither. You can ask, and I'll see fit whether to answer or not.” There. The Captain had put his foot down.