AN: My first ever Guardians fic! Let me know what you all think so far!
Chapter 1: Blame it on the alcohol
There's been some weird shit going on inside of Peter Quill's head.
Mind you, his life has been by no means normal- but seeing and hearing things that other people can't is definitely a first for him.
No, he's pretty sure that this extra weird shit all started that one night at the bar; the same night that the entire Ravager crew had spent in drunken celebration because, by the skin of their teeth, they'd pulled off a heist that would leave them sitting pretty for a long while. Seeing this as good of a reason as any to get wasted, they'd piled into a bar on the next inhabited planet they'd come across, all crowing over their mugs and dramatically embellishing their own roles in the victory. The merry mood had even rubbed off on their captain- he'd busied himself by smirking wolfishly over his bottle at two women, who'd 'ooh-ed' and giggled at Yondu Udonta's every word.
Peter himself had drifted away from the crowd towards the pretty, redheaded and Xandarian bartender. Though she'd fondly indulged in his brazen attempts to flirt, he was fairly certain she was uninterested, if her scrunching her nose up at nineteen-year-old Peter and stating that he was 'just cute as a button' were any sort of indicators.
Growing disheartened in his attempts, he nearly didn't notice when another woman, an Aedian, stepped quietly into his line of vision. Peter turned from the amused bartender to flash the newcomer his most charming of grins. "Heeey, pretty lady," he slurred.
Well, wait... was this new gal actually pretty? He couldn't honestly tell, being that A) he was currently so plastered that he'd nearly shed some tears while telling the bartender about his goldfish, named Fat Boy, that died thirteen years ago and B) the new gal in question was mostly obscured by a dark hood. So, yeah, Peter couldn't even really see her. Ah, well. These mysterious types were usually hot by standard, right?
The Aedian's eyes were currently roaming over Peter's face. "You are Peter Quill?" she inquired in a hush. Peter's grin faltered as he squinted to better focus on her. A voice of reason spoke amidst his other happily drunken thoughts, warning that this chick he'd never seen before probably shouldn't know his name.
An alternatively more satisfying thought occurred to him, and his grin brightened once more.
"Ah-ha! So you've heard of me, huh? Legendary outlaw 'n all that, I suppose. I'd prefer it, darlin', if you called me Star-Lord."
She didn't, to his disappointment. Actually she never replied at all.
Rather she reached out with a slim hand, her fingers cool as they touched the center of Peter's forehead.
A strange, jolting sensation like electricity traveled throughout his body, starting from her touch and shooting right down to his fingers and toes. Peter stifled a yelp of surprise, dramatically leaning back and away from her hand, gripping onto the bar's edge to keep himself mostly upright. "The hell, lady!" he exclaimed, eyeing the freaky lightning woman warily.
As if her job here were done, the Aedian withdrew her hand, tucked it carefully away into her long cloak, and moved to leave. Then she hesitated, glancing over her shoulder to meet Peter's eyes once more. "You have questions. Worry not, child. He will be in touch with you soon." And with that most ominous and unhelpful of explanations, she vanished, slipping with ease back into the crowd of rowdy drunks from which she came.
"Uhhh," was all Peter managed, his racing heart sobering him up for just a moment. His body continued to tingle throughout. "O-kay?"
"Hon?" the bartender asked, leaning over the bar to furrow her brows at him. "You doin' alright, kid?"
"Pfft, kid," Peter attempted airiness, hoisting himself to his feet and trying to ignore the newfound shakiness of his legs. "I'm no kid, sweetheart. I'm… whoa."
Colors were suddenly bleeding together, and the images around him were morphing oddly. Within seconds, instead of the rundown bar, he saw… he saw planets and a beautiful, endless expansion of stars, all at his fingertips.
As quickly as they came they were gone again, leaving him staring down at the comparably mundane bar stool he'd been gripping tightly.
"Whoa," he breathed again.
"Hon, I'm thinkin' you should probably go and grab your father," the bartender advised, motioning behind him with her chin. "Really. You're not lookin' too good."
Peter blinked at the word 'father'- as if this entire situation could get any more confusing- but when he looked over to the table in question, he only scoffed. "That's… that's Yondu. He ain't my-"
"Quill! Oi!" cried Tullk, one of the burly Ravager crewmates, swinging by to bump shoulders with Peter as his drink sloshed messily over his mug. "Come back over 'n join the celebration, boy. We're 'bout to make a toast!'
"Right," Peter said dazedly. He mustered up a farewell grin that was meant to reassure the worried bartender, hurrying to trail off behind Tullk before she could say anything more.
Later, as the toast neared its end, Peter caught Yondu's eye. The captain gave him a nonchalant once over and the quickest of winks, swigging his drink before turning his lazy focus back onto his enamored women. Peter shot a half smile in return. He was good. No need to dwell on the weird encounter if he'd left it unscathed, right? He decided it was alright to momentarily push the strange incident out of mind.
As he partied on through what was left of the night, and as further drunkenness ensued, he found that wasn't all that hard to do.
… Especially when, as Peter learns the next morning, 'further drunkenness ensued' had apparently consisted of Peter on top of a table, arm in arm with Kraglin and belting out a very heartfelt rendition of 'I Wanna Dance With Somebody'. Kraglin had left at some point to jump down and join in on a bar fight. Peter would have gladly helped, had he not begun to double over mid-song and puke his brains out onto the poor, unsuspecting inhabitants of the chairs below.
Who happened to be Yondu and both of his bimbos.
So, seeing as more immediate concerns were at hand- like avoiding Yondu for the remainder of the day, as Peter was sure his grumpy old captain was none too happy with Peter's most recent of inadvertent cock-blocking methods- he might've been happy to write off the encounter with the Aedian as simply a drunken hallucination, or episode, or whatever. Might've, had the incident in the mess hall the next morning not occurred.
He's lounging back in a chair and nursing his hangover headache, idly bullshitting in the mess with a small portion of the crew as they all listen to Kraglin regale the tale of the bar fight, when Peter's vision begins to blur out again. There's no outstanding imagery to behold, this time, but the voices around him muffle, sounding as though they're underwater.
He suspects maybe he's on the verge of passing out (which, great, fainting in front of the guys is the last thing he needs) but then he hears one voice, clear as day, booming through the less distinguishable ones:
"Peter."
All other noise is fading away completely. Whether this is simply due to the crew's conversation dying down, or Peter seemingly losing all function, he couldn't say. Through the blurry haze that is his vision, he thinks he sees Kraglin turning to face him. His mouth is moving. Peter blinks rapidly, attempting to clear up the fuzzy image of the first mate in front of him.
"Peter, my boy." There's the voice again- but the words don't match Kraglin's mouth, nor does it even sound like Kraglin.
"… Pete? Hell-ooo, anybody home?"
That does, however. Peter's vision swims back into focus and he feels his ears go pop. Kraglin and the other crew are all staring at him.
"Why d'you look like you're 'bout to keel right over, Quill?"
Peter gives some halfhearted, snarky reply guaranteed to send the other men either chuckling or rolling their eyes and, most importantly, off his back. Because as they jump to a new topic, he isn't listening. He's suddenly remembered something the Aedian in his 'hallucination' said, which kind of cements that that had certainly not been a hallucination:
"Worry not, child. He will be in touch with you soon."
Peter, my boy.
Ah, shit.