Characters: Yondu Udonta, Kraglin Obfonteri
Relationships: Yondu Udonta & Kraglin Obfonteri
Tags: Injury, Pre-Slash, Emotional - Hurt/Comfort, These Boys are No Good at That, But Damnit They Try, Friendship, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Reference Torture, Implied/Referenced Slavery, Light Angst, They're Both Sweet on Each Other :)
Warnings: Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Torture, Implied/Referenced Slavery
Summary: Kraglin left him alone for two hours. Two!
In which, Kraglin stitches Yondu up and Yondu tells him more about himself than he's ever told anyone.
Prompt One: Red, Music, Ability, Dream, Heart
A/N: You can blame all the titles of this series of works on Firefly and the fact that theme song has been stuck in my head for, like, four days now XD
The concept of Hrax and Hraxian!Kraglin comes from the incredible Write_Like_An_American, who's stories I utterly adore 3 (and you should totally go read, like, all of them because they are amazing) So, shout to them for creating it because none of my stories would exist without their ideas :)
Disclaimer: I don't own anything Marvel or GotG related. I just obsess like only a crazy-ass fan can :p
Part One of Yondu Week 2018.
#yonduweek
Not many people saw Yondu bleed. His whistle was piercing, and his arrow was sharp.
Not many people got the chance to take another breath, let alone injure the man.
Kraglin didn't know how much blood a body could hold; however, it was generally accepted that it should stay on the inside, not be covering the dirty floor, the door jamb or the bathroom mirror.
God.
That was a lot of blood.
"Cap'n?"
The hotel room was small, disgusting and could use a match rather than more 'guests'. Kraglin crossed it in two strides.
"Yondu?"
"What?"
The hunched figure was too pale and Kraglin's heart lurched.
"Tha fuck happened ta you?"
Yondu's chuckle was hoarse and laced with pain, "Just'a lil' bar fight Kraggles. Ain't nothin'."
The open wound oozing red on his back spoke otherwise.
"Like fuck it ain't!" He was behind Yondu, hand hovering over the wound before he registered the move. "Thought ya said ya'd be fine!"
"I am fine. They's dead, 'm still here." Pale fingers grazed his spine and the Centaurian stiffened. "What'chu think yer doin' Obfonteri?"
"This is deep as hell, sir. Ya need stitches."
Yondu grunted, "Can't reach it, can I genius?"
Kraglin was Hraxian, as scrappy and vicious as the rest of his planet. If there was anything he had the ability to do, it was stitch a goddamn wound.
"Le'me do it."
"I dun need yer help Kraglin. I dun need anyone's fuckin' help!"
The Centaurian stood abruptly, instantly swaying and stumbling into the sink.
Stubborn ass.
"Respectfully Cap, 'less ya got detachable arms, yer gonna need someone ta stitch that."
Yondu snorted, shoulder blades contorting as he heaved himself up on the browning ceramic, "Git tha kit."
Kraglin smirked in triumph, which Yondu caught in the filthy mirror, returning a blistering glare.
The Hraxian turned, rolling his eyes, and backtracking into the main room. He surveyed the disaster of assorted shit Yondu had thrown into his pack when they'd headed out on the mission and briefly looked to the heavens. "Cap'n, where tha fuck is it?"
"I dunno! In tha fuckin' bag somewhere!"
Kraglin rubbed a hand across his forehead and sighed, "Damnit all ta hell." He muttered, tossing Yondu's stuff about. He raised his voice a little, "Ya sure ya put it in here?"
"Yes 'm fuckin' sure! Dun test me Obfonteri, I ain't in tha mood."
He dug out a faulty wristpad and raised an eyebrow, "Ya ferget ta pack socks, but ya chuck in an ol' wristpad?"
"Shaddup!"
The Hraxian tossed it aside and reached in again. Finally, his fingers found the med kit and he tugged it out. His left ankle cracked loudly as he stood back up and clicked all the way back to the bathroom.
Yondu winced, "I wish ya'd git that thing seen ta. Sounds like shit."
"Told ya once sir," he replied putting the kit down on the bench, "'n' I'll tell ya again - it ain't nothin'. It always done it."
"Sounds like 'Nuttie eatin' an orloni." The Centaurian grunted, straightening so Kraglin could work on the wound.
He snorted, plucking the rubbing alcohol out of the kit. He eyed the bottle and shook it, "Ya been inta this again?"
Yondu looked down at his bruised knuckles, "No."
Kraglin snorted, "Liar." He pulled out the stitching kit and opened it up.
Yondu snarled, "Watch yer mouth Kraglin."
The implant wasn't glowing. Kraglin hadn't pushed him that far. He hid his smirk and nodded contritely, "Yes'sir."
The older man huffed and rolled his eyes, then hissed loudly as the needle pierced his skin. "Fucker." His eyes flickered up to Kraglin, who was giving that small lopsided smirk, cloudy blue eyes focused on the Centaurian's back.
Suddenly Kraglin frowned and the reason Yondu stiffened this time wasn't because of the needle in his back.
Music.
The guitar started first, then the piano, and suddenly it was a whole big band. A man started to sing and Kraglin's eyes met Yondu's.
"What is this?"
If it was possible, the Centaurian looked even paler, like this was some big secret of his, "'S called Save My Soul." He snorted and looked down, "Stupid fuckin' thing."
A dark eyebrow shot up, "Tha song?"
Yondu shot him a flat look, "No idjit, tha wristpad." He sighed heavily, "This song - it -" he shook his head, "nothin'."
Kraglin's hand gently smoothed over the half stitched wound, "Nah, what?"
The Centaurian curbed the automatic flinch reaction, his entire body tensed but he managed not to move away from the hand he knew meant him no harm.
"When Stakar first cut ma collar I used ta have dreams. Desperate shit. Not bein' able ta breathe when they drowned me in trainin', gettin' beat on when I couldn't git up no more, always gettin' told I weren't worth a damn - tha feelin' o' helplessness when ma stomach were so empty it were eatin' itself."
Kraglin stared.
The captain never talked about anything from before the Ravagers.
The Hraxian hadn't even known he was a slave.
Suddenly, a lot of pieces clicked together.
Yondu was looking at himself, but his eyes were strangely vacant.
Kraglin was enthralled.
"I'd wake up screamin' - after a while Stakar gave me this - wristpad. It were old an' battered - but it were mine. First thing that every really felt like mine. Sure, I had tha clothes on ma back - but those were 'cause I had ta. They didn't like me walkin' 'round in a loin cloth. It were - weird. Clothes felt - strange - like they weren't supposed ta be there." He snorted humourlessly, "Tha more I were integrated inta tha crew tha more they stared - like I were some freak. They stared at ma scars - 'specially tha tahlei one. Tha more they stared, tha more layers I added - weren't just clothin' neither. 'Ventually ain't no one fuck wit' me no more."
Kraglin wanted to ask about the arrow, but he didn't want to break this - strange spell.
Yondu continued, "Once Stakar got me ma arrow an' ma implant made 'bout two years later, every muthafucker on that ship were damn near terrified o' me. At first they thought they could push me 'round - bein' an ex-slave an' all - but I once ripped another rookie apart wit' ma bare hands. Mind you, he were one o' 'em jelly species wit' no bones so it weren't 'xactly hard, but they learned it ain't clever ta fuck wit' me." He sighed, "I didn't have no one - no friends, no family - ain't no one givin' a shit 'bout tha crazy ass Centaurian slave."
Kraglin heart did a funny thing. It made him want to wrap Yondu in a hug and tell him the world could fuck off.
He cared.
He'd always fucking care.
More than he should.
Yondu's eyes closed and he took a deep breath, "That wristpad were all I had. Tha music on it - it helped against tha dreams. Helped keep me goin'." He paused. "Then it got shot off ma wrist an' I - I couldn't never fix it. I still try sometimes - that's why it were in ma bag. Maybe one day I'll fix it."
The room suddenly felt very empty as the Centaurian stopped talking and Kraglin realised this - this was the man behind the captain persona - this was Yondu.
Yondu smiled up at him and raised a brow, "Ya gunna finish them stitches Kraggles, or what?"
Shit, he was handsome when he smiled.
Black eye, bruised chin, and missing, bloodied tooth included.
The Hraxian blinked a couple of times - coming to the rather stunning realisation that he'd do anything for this man - anything.
The smile morphed into a frown, the Centaurian's brows pulling together and his nose scrunching, "Kraglin? Ya ok?"
The taller man shook himself, "Huh? Uh - yeah Cap'n. Yeah."
Stupid idjit. Focus.
His fingers went back to stitching, mind a wreck. He needed something to focus on. "Tell me 'bout this bar fight, Cap'n. What tha fuck ya do ta make 'em try ta kill ya?"
A huge grin spread across Yondu's face and he launched into the tale, embellishing parts until they were just ludicrous and had Kraglin in fits of laughter.
People had always bitched about being Yondu's first mate - like he was some huge, annoying pain in their ass.
The Centaurian was grinning and describing how he gutted a man and tossed his entrails across the bar.
Kraglin thought those idiots were full of shit.
He liked his job just fine.
And if Yondu found the battered old wristpad in the morning, fixed up with parts from Kraglin's own wristpad?
Well.
Maybe.
Maybe, Yondu liked Kraglin a little more than he should too.
Notes:
Red – Yondu's Blood
Music – The broken wristpad (Save My Soul by Big Bad Voodoo Daddy)
Ability – Kraglin can stitch a wound
Dream – Yondu's Dreams
Heart – Kraglin's