A/N - Seeing as I've completely fallen in love with GOTG2, I guess writing something for it was inevitable. Spoiler warning for the end of the movie applies here. I hope you enjoy this and any feedback is appreciated!
Title is shamelessly borrowed from 'Logan' because superhero films this year are set on destroying my emotions with their father-child dynamics.
The kid's crying in his room.
Yondu's impressed it's taken the runt this long to break down. Bringing him aboard had led to an impressive display of kicking and screaming that managed to rise above even the Ravagers' tumult, and the kid hasn't backed down for a whole week. Part of that must be frantic confusion, Yondu supposes, as any early attempts to explain why they picked him up were quickly drowned out by Terran gobbledegook.
The kid was probably begging to go home. That's what they all did.
By the time they got around to implanting the universal translator in his head, he'd simply resorted to sullen silences or feral screaming if anyone dared touch him. If the ship's footage is any indication, he's spent the last two days hiding in tiny crevices throughout the ship where no Ravager can hope to find him.
Exhaustion is probably what dragged him to his quarters in the end, but sleep doesn't seem to be on the kid's agenda. The footage playing across his tiny portion of the screen shows him trembling and clutching the bedsheets in tiny fists, and as much as Yondu wants to ignore it, something achingly familiar about the situation tugs at his empty heart. The kid's scared and likely more alone than he's ever been in his life. Course he's gonna be crying into his pillow.
The captain scans the rest of the ship's footage faster than he normally would, assuring himself that none of his crew have instigated an impromptu murder-spree out of boredom, and swears under his breath before deciding to head to the kid's room.
(It's not that he cares. He's just aware that the kid won't survive long on this ship if he appears weak)
The quarters they've set up for their guest are a temporary measure – the same room given to the other kids back when delivering them to Ego was actually the plan – and they seem to be far away from everything else of importance on the ship. Yondu feels the air cool as he walks, the fire from the engines growing further and further away, and suppresses a shudder at the knowledge that thin walls are all that separate him from the cold vacuum of space. It's not something one ever gets used to, much as he loves the thrill of travelling, and it's partly why he's willing to throw himself into any planetside mission that comes his way.
That and the reward of course. If his crew appreciate anything more than a cure for boredom, it's the mountain of units that such a cure often brings. Maybe one day, if the kid ever calms down enough to listen to him, they can recruit him on the odd mission. Kid's skinny, not to mention scrappy in a fight. He could be a good asset so long as he can stop his crew from taking the suggestion of eating him too literally.
Wandering through the twisted metal jungle of his ship seems to take hours, but when he draws up to the kid's door, soft sobs are still audible from within. Yondu doesn't bother knocking – lack of privacy's another thing the kid's gonna have to get used to – and as he makes his way over to the small heap lying on the bed, the boy freezes like a creature caught in a last-ditch attempt to not be devoured. All sound vanishes as if they've been thrust into the nearby vacuum, with only the soft ever-present rumble left to disturb them, and the kid continues to be deathly still as Yondu approaches and settles down on the bed.
He doesn't speak for a while. Perhaps on some other day he'd have prepared a quip or berate the kid for being so weak, but that uncomfortable familiarity sends a chill down his spine that he knows isn't from the cold. It seems so long ago now since he was the one sobbing in some forgotten corner of his master's home, the chains digging into his wrists waking him from his fitful sleep. It's not an experience he likes to be reminded of, even with the knowledge that those days are far behind him.
(Thanks to a man who now despises him, but that's another thing that Yondu would rather forget)
Curiosity eventually takes over any survival instincts the kid has left, and it isn't long before he turns his head just enough for a speck of green to become visible underneath blond curls, and Yondu gifts him with a smile he knows is likely to be unnerving. He has a reputation to uphold after all.
The sight does the trick. The runt hides his face again but seems to relax a little; his white-knuckled grip on the sheets finally relieved.
"Why ya cryin', boy?" Yondu asks, keeping his voice level in an attempt to betray nothing more than mere curiosity. Can't have people thinking he's going soft after all; he has no wish to be subject to a mutiny anytime soon. "You wan' all the others laughin' at you?"
That seems to strike a nerve. The kid reveals his face for the first time, defiance burning in green eyes despite the redness of his cheeks. His hair's a greasy mess and he's still wearing his Terran clothes, now covered in oil and grime and starting to smell. Yondu will have to tell the tailor to take his measurements and sort out a uniform if he's going to be staying for any length of time.
It takes longer than it should for his eyes to focus on the impressive purple bruise spreading across the kid's pale neck, and when they do the rage that burns within him is startling.
"Who did that to ya, boy?"
He doesn't expect an answer, considering the kid hasn't said much in days. It's a shock, then, when the answer emerges in a harsh croak, the effort to form words clearly painful.
"Don' know 'is name," the kid says, his gaze fixed on the hands cradled in his lap as he gives a small shrug. "Had a burnt face. Kept saying 'e was gonna eat me so I scratched at 'is eye."
The mental image has Yondu guffawing in spite of everything and something like pride sparks within him. The kid'll make a good Ravager one day, if he can avoid getting himself killed. His tormentor could be one of many scarred individuals on the ship, though with any luck the man'll now have an impressive scrape across his face.
"Tell ya what, kid," Yondu says, and for once the boy actually looks at him. "He ever touches ya again, I'll send my arrow through 'is eye, how bout that?"
Something brightens in the kid's face, though only a little. Just enough to wipe the earlier fear away, or at least bury it so deeply Yondu can't see. He doesn't exactly smile, but the proposition is met with a small nod and when Yondu grins once more the kid seems comfortable enough to lie back on the sheets.
In a wordless gesture of his intention to leave, Yondu settles a hand on the kid's shoulder, but freezes when he feels tension grip the boy's small form as if he's just been turned to stone. There's a bitter taste in his mouth at the knowledge that the kid's still going to be miserable even when he leaves the room (not that he cares, but again, misery makes poor company and the kid has too much potential. Yondu would rather he didn't break down just yet).
Inspiration hits him and his hand buries its way into his pocket and pulls out the strange device the kid fought so desperately for when they first brought him aboard. It doesn't seem to do anything of use, but taking it away from him had incited a barrage of screams and cries and the men holding him back had both earned impressive black eyes, so it must have some worth beyond what Yondu can see. Enough that it's far better suited to the kid's hands than his own, and he may as well give it back considering breaking it apart isn't going to yield much value in the way of parts.
Yondu sets the device on the pillow next to the kid's head and turns with every intention of walking back to his own quarters, but he's stopped by the sudden movement at his side. It's like someone's sent a jolt of electricity through the kid as he reaches for the device with lightning fast speed and sits up with a sudden intensity burning in his eyes. The device gets turned every which way and examined with a thoroughness it doesn't seem advanced enough to deserve, and when the kid is finally satisfied he pulls the headset over his ears with reverence and gently presses a button on the metal casing.
Soft, muffled sounds interrupt the ship's rumble and for a moment Yondu thinks the kid's going to cry all over again, but it's not pain that stretches over his face this time but a soft smile. It's the first he's ever seen the kid wear, though that's hardly surprising given the week he's had. It suits him, Yondu thinks, though he can't help but wonder if there'll be much opportunity to be happy in the kid's future. Part of him hopes so, but the realistic side of his brain knows that a Ravager's existence is often too difficult for anything beyond the brief satisfaction of payment to shine through.
He really does get up to leave this time, because he has little desire to give any of his crew the excuse to use his absence as a means to cause a riot (or call him soft), and the kid's eyes fix on him one last time once he's on his feet. He doesn't say anything, too lost in the soft music playing in his ears, but he looks content enough that Yondu leaves him with only a small nod before turning to the door.
"Get some sleep, Peter," he says, loudly so as to be heard over the kid's device.
It doesn't hit him until later that it's the first time he's ever bothered using the kid's name.
"He may have been your father, Quill, but he wasn't your daddy."
Yondu would be lying if he said he'd done a good job on that front.
Admittedly, when one's rival is a deranged megalomaniac willing to kill his own children if it sees the universe destroyed, it's easy to look like an angel in comparison. However, the realisation that Peter is his son as surely as though they shared blood has come to him far too late, as has the knowledge that he could and should have been a better parent.
Perhaps fatherhood would have come more naturally had it been something he'd actively sought out - or at the very least if he'd been raised with a good model to base it on - but in the end, becoming Peter's dad had snuck up on him without warning. It had hit him by turns as the boy grew older and stronger and the pride that welled in his chest became undeniable; when his reaction to Peter being in danger started to become more distressing than it would for any other member of his crew; when anyone who threatened the boy instantly became paralysed by fear at the sound of a high whistle. Caring for the boy had earned him many enemies among his own men, but time had forced him to accept that he would watch them all burn if it meant his son was safe.
He looks down at Peter's face and takes it in for what is likely to be the last time as they continue to soar towards the stars, and smiles when he sees the same reverence that coloured the face of an eight-year-old being reunited with his Walkman. It's the same look that Yondu received whenever he took the time to teach Peter to shoot, or rewarded him with his own ship once he became a man, and something tugs at his black heart when he realises he never really appreciated it enough. Peter's smile is all too brief even now, confusion replacing it as the veil of his spacesuit wraps around him, and sure enough he figures out what's going on within seconds.
His boy always was smart.
Yondu tunes out Peter's protests and lets relief take over when his attempts to pull the spacesuit off fails. It isn't long before the biting cold of space blocks out any sound anyway. Everything starts to become blurry as sharp ice snakes its way across his skin, and before sensation can be robbed from him completely, he reaches out to touch Peter's face.
The suit provides a cool veil that keeps Peter just out of reach, but Yondu can still feel the boy's tension ease just a little under his hands and he knows his job is done. His hands drift away of their own volition as the air freezes in his lungs and his vision finally fades, and the only thing he can feel is Peter's own hands reaching for him in spite of the inevitable. He doesn't deserve the boy's grief but there's nothing he can do about that, and so he simply drifts and lets the knowledge that his son will survive melt the biting chill in his bones.
He supposes he was wrong when he told Rocket he'd never done anything right in his life.
Peter turned out pretty great in the end.