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Do not let it be said that the Captain of the Ravagers was anything except completely and absolutely hardcore.
When the Ecclector was boarded and his sleep disturbed, the heavily pregnant Centaurian, awoken, grumpy as fuck and ready to whistle everybody's balls off was forced to participate in battle.
Not that anyone made him get up, get dressed and go kick the Xraxian's connected asses, but it's not like anyone could really stop him either. Not with the First Mate and sire of the brood currently offboard on a negotiation mission that was looking more and more like a set up.
Regardless, the crew was bloody and vicious, making the Ravagers retreat into the less spacious halls and corridors in order to be less exposed have better shooting advantages, seeing as they knew the layout a lot better.
Just as luck would have it, right before the main attack from the invaders who have been booming about their superiority over loud speakers for the last half an hour, Yondu felt his trousers suddenly get uncomfortably wet and cursed up a streak loud and mean enough to startle both sides into stunned silence for a full five minutes.
One of the Ravagers who had spotted a growing wet spot on his Captain's pants and promptly pointed it out to everybody else involved by screaming and fainting. Yondu threw the idiot a dirty look, and then, spurred by the reinvigorated shouting and shooting, elbowed his way into the corner.
While those close enough to notice what was going on were on a verge of panic, attempting to battle plan safest ways to get Yondu to med bay, find him hot towels, water, and whatever the fuck else a Centaurian giving birth needed in order to do so, the male in question wasn't worried what so ever.
His species, unlike the Terrans and Asgardians, never had any problems with delivery. It was a very straight forward process, with no organs that even theoretically could get in the way.
So, he tugged off his trousers, bunching them up and squatted over the leathers, coat covering everything he wanted kept hidden from view of others.
With a few heady pushes and curses, two healthy blue lumps were squished out and onto the trousers. Yondu methodically pushed out the after birth, stuffing it into his pocket, sucked the mucus out of their noses and mouths, licked each kid clean and proceeded to stick them down his pouch, where two very intuitive babes leeched to his in-pouch nipples and easily settled, warm and calm, soothed by their bearer's heartbeat and warmth of each other and the pouches stretchy walls.
With in moments, the Centaurian was back on his feet, coat zipped up from his feet to his waist to hide the swinging and therefore bothersome bits underneath. The crew, appropriately stunned was parted like the Terran Red Sea.
Not long after, reinforcements arrived to discovered Yondu, in all of his pouch-stuffed glory, sitting on top of a pile of enemy corpses, with the leader's head, still alive but bound with some cords, on his lap, stuffing his mouth full of after birth and watching with a very satisfied smile full of teeth and metal as the crying invader gagged and chewed, promising, begging to be killed so that he may never have to experience anything like that ever again.
"And that, kids, is how ya were born." concluded Peter Quill, looking a little green as he watched over two tiny blue mini-Centaurians sitting in front of him.
The twins shared a look and simultaneously turned to their Uncle/Big Brother
"Can we stage an invasion for Papa when our sister's gonna be born?"