A/N - Sorry for the slight delay with this one. I blame a combination of work and this chapter wrestling with me a little as I was writing/editing it. Hopefully it came out okay in the end :)

The last part will be a short epilogue to wrap things up, so I'll hopefully have this story completed by Friday at the latest. Thank you so much for reading to this point and for all of your reviews/favourites/follows!


It turns out the cargo hold is hidden in the underbelly of the patchwork ship, beneath even the vast hangar in which Yondu arrived. The journey to it is a long - albeit simple – one, and there's a chilling eeriness in wandering through corridors populated only by the dead; each footfall louder for the absence of any other sound. Even the hum of the engines seems muted, as though the ship has frozen in time now there's no-one left to fly her. Yondu doesn't let the silence comfort him entirely. He still keeps an ear out for any survivors awaiting the opportune moment to strike, but his mind is considerably calmer now than it was an hour ago.

What the consequences of his vengeful massacre will be, he cannot say, but for now the immediate threat seems to have passed.

His approach towards the hold is marked by the return of harsh steel walls and a bitter chill. This area had been quiet even with a living crew, and now it feels like all sound has been sucked into a vacuum. There's a sameness to his surroundings that has him almost missing the stairwell he's looking for; a rickety metal structure spiralling into darkness. Descending the stairs feels like wandering into a black void, however as Yondu travels further into the unknown, his efforts are rewarded by a light which flickers upon sensing his presence, guiding him the rest of the way.

He finds himself in a clinically white hallway, the other end of which opens onto a vast storeroom, but he doubts he'll need to go that far. There are several branching cupboards on both sides, each guarded by a locked door, and Yondu wastes no time in hammering on each one and calling out Peter's name.

At first, he gets no response besides the echo of his own voice. These doors are thick – sheer metal – and there's a chance that even if the boy is conscious enough to answer him, his voice won't carry. Not that that would matter. If Yondu can't track Peter down this way then he'll simply resort to breaking every door down, but the continued silence has his heart clenching more than he'd like to admit. There's six rooms in total, and when banging on the fourth yields no response he wonders if Murlainn had been lying about the boy's location to spite him. Any doubt fades, however, upon approaching the fifth and hearing a muffled voice behind the door.

The door doesn't budge when he grabs the handle, but that's hardly a problem. One whistle is all that's needed to have the arrow slicing through the lock as easily as it does flesh, and when he tries again the door slides open with ease.

He's not entirely sure what he expects to find within the small room. Something that might be fear grips him as he adjusts to the poor light and searches for Peter, but a flurry of movement from the corner assures him he's found the right place.

Peter's held in place by chains like some feral beast; his arms pulled back in a manner that must ache horribly. His eyes are covered by a ragged blindfold while his voice is muffled by a similar gag around his mouth, suppressing his wild screams as he kicks out blindly against an imagined attacker. Yondu approaches slowly, not wanting to startle the boy more than he already has, and makes note of the growing bruise on his forehead and a gash across one eyebrow. Otherwise he seems to be in one piece, but the sight of even those small injuries has a useless rage burning in Yondu's chest. There's no need for anger anymore, he knows. All those worth blaming are dead.

"Kid?" Yondu calls steadily, and Peter stops his useless flailing as he recognises the voice. "Relax, it's me. I'm gonna get ya outta here."

A sob grips the boy's small frame as the words sink in, and Yondu takes that as an invitation to set about freeing him. He starts by removing the gag around the boy's mouth and letting him catch his breath, before assessing the rusty chains holding his wrists behind his back. Tearing them apart with the arrow would be easy enough but he doesn't want to risk harming Peter in the process, so he searches for the lock holding them tight and scans the room for any sign of a key. He doesn't dare hope to find it, and yet he does; a small glint of silver catching his eye on the floor, right beside the boy's discarded backpack, coat and – thank the gods – music player. Yondu quickly grabs it before returning to the chains, testing the key in the lock and grinning as a soft click reaches his ears. Once his hands are freed, Peter breathes a sigh of relief and softly massages the bruises lining his wrists, trying to hide a small wince without success.

"They ever tell ya why you were taken?" Yondu asks, trying to sound casual even as his heart hammers in his chest. If Peter knows about Ego then he'll never trust Yondu again – justifiably so - and what little innocence has survived these hellish few months will likely be snuffed out entirely.

Peter shaking his head has selfish relief rushing through him, but he can't afford to scold himself for that now. "They said something 'bout money, I think."

"Yeah, that's what it always comes down to with those jackasses," Yondu spits, ignoring that that was his sole motivator as well once. Hell, for the most part it still is, albeit he's learned to enforce certain limits in the wake of his business with Ego. "But ya don't need to worry 'bout them anymore. I've seen to that."

"I didn't think you were gonna come," Peter utters softly, and Yondu doesn't miss the way he tenses once the words are released into the open. The boy's clearly been brave – there aren't even tear-tracks marking his face – but there's only so much a child can take, and it seems he's finally able to betray his fear. In front of Yondu of all people.

Yondu's not entirely sure what to make of that.

"Yeah well, here I am," he says matter-of-factly, before taking Peter's arm and guiding him to his feet. It takes more effort than it should as Peter's legs shake uneasily, but he's upright soon enough and able to stand on his own. Without thinking, Yondu goes to remove the blindfold – the final relic of the boy's captivity – before stopping in his tracks.

There's a fair distance to travel yet before they make it to the hangar. This area was quieter than the central hub, but Yondu knows they'll still encounter grotesque sights en route – the broken bodies of men he killed – and a desire to shield Peter from that grips him before he can stop it. Certainly, the boy witnessed enough violence this morning to know what his protector is capable of, but he doesn't need any further reminders of that right now. Not after everything that's happened.

"Kid?" Yondu says, and Peter's head tilts towards him. As though just now remembering that the blindfold is to blame for the oppressive darkness, he raises newly freed hands to peel it off, but Yondu stops him before he can do so. "I'm gonna ask ya to keep that on just a little longer."

Peter takes that news about as well as one might expect. His head shakes frantically and a soft 'No' passes his lips, the idea of further darkness clearly a distressing one, but Yondu remains patient as he explains.

"There's some stuff I don' want ya seein'," he admits, wanting to be honest in spite of everything. "I ain't gonna force ya to wear that thing but I'd rather ya did. Unless ya can promise you'll keep yer eyes shut 'til I say otherwise?"

It doesn't take long for Peter to consider his options. Yondu can see the tension in his muscles relax at the latter suggestion, and he reluctantly accepts defeat and lets the boy remove the blindfold. The light drifting in from the corridor has Peter squinting after so long kept in darkness, and likely worsens an already impressive headache judging by his wince. As he adapts to the change, Yondu turns to the small pile of belongings and quickly hands over the boy's backpack and coat. When he picks up the music-player, he examines it as closely as he can and is relieved upon finding it unscathed. There'd probably have been some way to salvage the music if it came to that, but he can only imagine how distraught Peter would be if this whole ordeal was topped off by losing his mother's final gift.

"Ya wanna listen to yer music?" he asks, seeing Peter's eyes brighten with hope at the sight of the device. The question earns him an enthusiastic nod, and Yondu carefully slides orange headphones around the boy's ears before randomly clicking the buttons on the main body of the player. He must have a few false starts – the buttons are decorated with useless shapes that give him no indication of what they actually do – but eventually he can hear the soft music and something in Peter relaxes at the sounds; the familiarity comforting him even in this dark prison. Yondu holds out the device, refusing to let go until it's safely in Peter's bruised hands, and raises his voice only a little to ensure his next words are heard and understood.

"I'm gonna carry ya out of here," he says, and though the idea doesn't seem appealing to either of them, Peter doesn't argue. "I want you to close yer eyes and don' open them until I say. It ain't too far, I promise."

The idea of surrendering to darkness and the uncertainty that comes with it isn't a pleasant one, judging by Peter's hesitation, and Yondu's tempted to relent and tell him he can keep his eyes open if he wants to. The way ahead isn't any more horrifying than what Peter's already been exposed to, though Yondu would prefer to spare the boy from seeing the effects of his handiwork.

After a long moment, however, Peter utters a quiet "okay" and offers up a weak smile that doesn't quite meet his eyes. Yondu supposes that's enough.

Peter's a skinny thing to look at, but when Yondu lifts him in his arms, he may as well be weightless. Thin arms cling to him so tightly it promises to hurt before long, and a small head buries against his neck as though hiding from the outside world. While Yondu can't tell whether Peter has closed his eyes or not, he doesn't bother reminding him as he leaves the tiny cupboard behind. What Peter decides to do ultimately isn't up to him after all.

The trek upstairs seems even more precarious now, but they emerge onto the main corridor without incident. Despite this section having been emptier than the heart of the ship, Yondu can still see a trail of corpses along their route; permanently startled eyes surrounding him on all sides. He ignores them as best he can, finding comfort in the fact that nothing in Peter's body language suggests he's seen them too. If he listens closely, he can make out the pleasant melody that's consuming the boy's attention. The music is a much nicer alternative to the echoes of dying men, and Yondu focuses on the muffled vocals and strumming instruments as he walks; ensuring the precious weight in his arms is secure all the way.

They reach the hangar in five minutes that feels like twenty, and automatic doors slide open when they approach. Yondu spies the black and red M-ship in which he arrived and baulks at the thought of the bodies he will find within; quickly deciding to take one of the others instead. He approaches one that looks like it's been drenched in silver paint, and when he pulls the lever to lower the ramp, a mechanical whine follows without complaint. The previous owner must have considered the ship safe within the confines of their home – enough to leave it unguarded at least - but seeing as they aren't alive to miss it, Yondu has zero qualms about taking it as his own.

Considering he was forced to leave his own ship on the outpost, he feels he's owed.

As soon as the ramp reascends, sealing them inside with a satisfying clunk, Yondu sets Peter down and informs him he can open his eyes. Even above the noise of his music, Peter hears him well enough to obey and uses his recovered sight to scan the new ship with interest. It's a slightly older model than the others, but Yondu's familiar enough with the layout to settle by the controls and start working on establishing a communication link. He doesn't notice Peter climbing onto the co-pilot's seat at first, but when he looks up, he finds the boy watching him work with his headphones around his neck. The music's still coming from them, but for once Peter's interests lie elsewhere and his precious device goes unnoticed. Yondu merely shrugs at that notion before returning to work; typing in the Eclector's details and establishing a call.

This ship doesn't have a video-link, so he supposes he can't blame Kraglin when his exhausted voice comes over the comms; barely-masked irritation hiding beneath the surface.

"Murlainn?" he asks, and Yondu resists the urge to bark out a laugh. These ships must all be registered in their captain's name. "What, ya leave somethin' behind last night?"

"Guess again, boy," Yondu announces with a smirk, and when he looks to Peter he finds his expression mirrored on the child's face. The fact that he can smile at all after these last few hours lifts a weight from Yondu's shoulders he hadn't realised was there.

"Cap'n?!" Kraglin exclaims in a higher pitch than usual, and Yondu can picture his wide eyes and naked confusion clear as day. His first-mate always was an open book. "The hell're ya doin' on one o' Murlainn's ships? If you'll pardon my askin'."

"It's a long story, kid, and one I ain't in the mood to tell," Yondu replies, not having the energy to be either angry or amused by his first-mate's outburst. He'll explain everything later, once he's had time to rest and gather his thoughts and figure out how to handle the aftershocks of his massacre. Destroying an entire crew won't go unnoticed, though he doubts Murlainn was beloved enough to inspire retaliation. "Let's just say, Murlainn ain't a problem anymore."

There's a pause at that, and when Kraglin's voice finally returns, it's considerably soberer than before.

"It's been that kinda day, huh?"

Yondu doesn't bother smothering his laugh at that, though there's little humour behind it and it dies rather quickly. "Yeah. It's been that kinda day."

"Is Pete alright?"

The question's asked without the slightest hesitation and Yondu's smirk softens. Kraglin sounds concerned, more so than he likely intends, and it's a reminder that Peter has more friends on the Eclector than one would think. Yondu turns to Peter, tilting his head towards the comms in a silent gesture, and the boy reads it easily before uttering a loud, "Hi Kraglin!"

"He's in one piece," Yondu elaborates, though he imagines the sound of the boy's voice will have communicated everything Kraglin needs to know. Whether Peter is truly 'alright' remains to be seen, but he's brighter than Yondu could have hoped. Especially as it's only been an hour since he was trapped alone in the dark, scared and uncertain over what lay ahead. "We're gonna head back now. Send us the coordinates and when ya see a weird silver thing approachin', do us a favour and don' blow us up."

"I won't, Cap'n," Kraglin promises, the smile in his voice clear, and Yondu cuts the line when the Eclector's current position appears onscreen. She isn't too far away – three hours at most – and Yondu enters her details before starting up the engines and feeling the weightlessness that comes with lift-off.

Without someone to manually enforce the procedure of opening the vessel's hull, Yondu settles for less dignified means. Namely telling Peter to strap in, before taking control of the ship's blasters and firing mercilessly at the wall trapping them inside. There's a deafening screech of abused metal as the blasts strike their target, and when a gaping hole finally forms, their ears are assaulted by a harsh wail as the change in pressure batters their ship's exterior.

Like all M-ships though, this one is a resilient little thing, and when Yondu guides her forwards, she does so without protest. As they breach the hull and are unleashed into the darkness of space, Yondu allows himself one look back at Murlainn's shattered home before putting on a burst of speed and leaving the whole nightmarish ordeal behind him.

Murlainn is dead. The certainty that anyone who follows in his footsteps will meet the same fate grips Yondu so fiercely it almost hurts, but he cannot deny his capabilities. The gods only know how many men died today because they tried to take Peter from him – even Yondu lost count eventually – and it hits him there and then that Peter will never be safer with anyone else. Living with the Ravagers will undeniably bring many dangers with it, but it's also his best chance at survival in the years to come.

It seems Yondu's stuck with him. Possibly for the rest of his life.

Accepting that fact is a lot easier than it should be.

The journey home is a quiet one. Even the sights are modest – every passing star or planet seeming too far away to leave an impact. At some point Peter returns to his music and curls up on the chair, drifting into an exhausted slumber within minutes. The rest of the trip is spent in peaceful silence that seems absurd after the insanity of the day's events, and when the Eclector's hull finally comes into view – silhouetted by a distant sun – it feels like Yondu hasn't seen her in years.

Once they approach the docking bay, Yondu lands as gently as possible to avoid rousing Peter. He seems to succeed; the boy shifts only a little when Yondu lifts him into his arms, and quickly settles for using his shoulder as a makeshift pillow. Kraglin greets them as they exit the stolen ship, but any amusement he gleans from seeing his captain cradling a sleeping child is silenced by a single glare on Yondu's part, and he wisely says nothing beyond a short welcome. There will be a story to tell his first-mate later – a long one at that – but only once Peter's safely in his room and Yondu can reassure his own exhausted mind that they're both safe. That he hasn't failed; that he hasn't lost another child.

As he lays Peter on his unmade bed and drapes thin sheets over him to keep him warm, the bruises on his face and wrists provide a harsh reminder of how close Yondu came to losing this one.

He wonders how long it'll take to forgive himself for that.


It takes Peter ten hours to wake up.

During that time, Yondu manages barely three hours of rest before giving up and doing his rounds of the ship, ensuring his crew haven't torn each other to shreds in his absence. Not that he should worry about that. According to Kraglin, everything has been running as efficiently as usual and the news that old Eili has given them a job has even lifted the crew's spirits. Shedding the lingering unease from the last few days may take a while, but Yondu has nothing to fear from his crew. He imagines he should let himself trust them more, though trust has never come easily for him.

His rounds are completed just as the crew's rest hours begin. The ship slowly quietens as those who aren't still feasting in the mess hall drag themselves to bed after another long day, and as has become habit, Yondu finds himself on the flight deck watching the galaxy pass by in all her glory. There's an asteroid field several clicks ahead which seems oddly beautiful from this safe distance, and a tiny uninhabited planet lies in its centre, untouched by courageous travellers. At Yondu's side, the ship's footage plays out silently, showing only empty corridors and dormitories filled with crewmates huddling together for warmth. It's perhaps inevitable that Yondu's eyes will find Peter, sleeping more soundly than one might expect, and when the boy doesn't move for several minutes, he rises with a groan and drags himself in the direction of the cargo hold. He doubts he missed any warning signs earlier, but he has enough experience to know that head wounds plus long hours without waking probably shouldn't be ignored.

At least that's the excuse he's using to check up on Peter.

The eerie calm of the ship is all too familiar now, but there's the occasional snore to assure Yondu that life still dwells within the Eclector's walls. Even as he draws closer to the near-silent hold, the hum of distant engines lingers and the vibration beneath his feet provides a homely comfort. He hadn't missed the ship's noise back on the outpost, but now he's not sure he could live without it. A peaceful existence on some distant planet likely won't suit him, even if he lives to be as ancient and wise as old Eili.

The boy's still fast asleep when Yondu reaches his room, and mercifully seems to be unbroken. Peter's soft breaths provide the only sound – even his music has ceased, though he still clutches the device to his chest – and as Yondu draws closer, he notices that the bruises and cuts have started to heal. It seems rather fast, but then he's never paid much attention to the Terran healing process. Kraglin's always been the one to assess any minor injuries Peter picks up from his chores, and they've never been significant enough to warrant reporting to either Yondu or Doc.

When he notices nothing of concern, Yondu settles himself on the small chair by Peter's bed, making no attempt to wake him. The boy's earned his rest after all.

By the time Peter does wake, only a few hours later, Yondu has resorted to amusing himself with the knife that had been so expertly stolen from him. Finding the once-terrifying captain wielding a bloodied knife can't be the most reassuring sight to wake up to, but Peter takes it in stride; forcing himself to sit up and opening his mouth, not to scream, but to unleash a wide yawn. Yondu grins at him, uncaring over whether that comes across as comforting or unnerving, and examines the knife further; its golden hilt smooth to the touch as the razor-sharp blade reflects any light in a sickening red hue. There hasn't been time to clean it since the attack in the alley, and the evidence of Peter's conquest is clear to see all these hours later.

"Recognise this?" Yondu sneers as he holds the knife out for Peter to see clearly. The boy has the grace to look sheepish, albeit only a little, and Yondu can't help but laugh when he gets a small nod in response. Any anger Yondu should feel over being robbed refuses to boil over; if anything, he's impressed that Peter's proven himself to be a better thief than most of his crew. Besides, Yondu wasn't too attached to the blade. He only owned it in the first place because he stole it himself, from a dealer who acted just a little too high and mighty during their negotiations.

Peter's eyes widen as Yondu holds the knife out to him, instinctive fear shedding quickly as the true intention is understood. A small hand wraps around the hilt to carefully accept the offered blade, and Peter examines it with a small smile before looking up at Yondu, unable to hide his uncertainty.

"Ya can keep it, boy," Yondu clarifies, trying to hide his own smile as Peter's face brightens. "I don' have much use for it. Yer gonna have to learn how to use it properly, mind, and if ya think this is an excuse to steal from me again, we're gonna have trouble."

It'd be hard to miss the glimmer of amusement that crosses Peter's eyes at those words, though it vanishes quickly. Yondu swipes a hand down his face, struggling to ignore his exhaustion catching up with him, and tries not to think of how many stolen trinkets strewn across the floor are his own. Peter stealing from his crew is fair game, to an extent. They should know better than to let their valuables be taken by a brat who's yet to see his ninth year of life.

It probably speaks to how distracted Yondu's been over the past few months that he's let himself become a target as well.

"Ya did good in the alley earlier," he says, and he doesn't miss the way Peter freezes before setting the knife to the side. His hands start fidgeting in his lap, distracted, and Yondu wonders if the boy's peaceful rest had been hiding the aftershocks of his ordeal. "But if this happens again – I ain't plannin' on lettin' it, but it might – I need ya not to fight unless yer survival depends on it, or ya know ya can win. Don't give those assholes an excuse to hurt ya any more than they were plannin' to. You sit tight and wait for one of us to come for you, ya hear?"

Peter doesn't look at him, though the idea of there being a 'next time' has his small body tensing. "I didn't know you were gonna-"

"Ya didn't know I was gonna come, I know that," Yondu interrupts; and really, when has he ever given Peter an indication that he'll come running whenever he needs him? He's spent months being actively dismissive of the boy; that Peter trusts him at all is nothing short of a miracle. "But you know now. Yer a scrappy little runt, I'll give ya that, but that tends to do more harm than good. Ya need to know when to sit tight and leave all the fightin' to me."

The words linger in silence for a long moment, until Peter gives a small nod. He doesn't bother putting on a brave front upon lifting his head – his green eyes reflecting the same disquiet they'd possessed on Murlainn's ship – but he doesn't fall apart either. He hasn't let himself appear raw and broken since that first week spent screaming for his mother; it may only have been four months but the boy's learned to adapt. To survive.

He might blend in with the Ravagers yet.

"Will this happen again?" Peter asks tentatively, a small shudder gripping him as he awaits the answer.

Yondu shakes his head and offers the most comforting smile he can muster. He isn't good at comfort, never has been, but he does a good enough job that a weak smile tugs at Peter's lips. "It shouldn't. Not if I have any say in things."

"Why do you care so much?" Peter asks, in a tone that would sound innocent if it weren't so hurried.

The question's one that threatens to have Yondu laughing until his chest burns and he can't draw breath. It's a question he's going to have to ask himself before long, and he's not sure he's willing to face the answer. After so long of doing everything in his power to not care – or to care just enough to keep the boy alive – he's well aware that he's royally failed in that regard, and it takes all the restraint he has to keep his expression even.

The answer he gives is far from the whole one, but at least he manages to be honest.

"A captain's gotta look out for his crew," Yondu says with a small shrug, trying to seem effortless and likely failing. Peter doesn't so much as breathe in response to the explanation, but his eyes refuse to leave Yondu's own and he finds himself looking away before the attention can burn him.

"Speakin' of which; if yer gonna be stayin' with us, yer gonna have to learn a few things," Yondu continues, breaking the silence before it can become awkward. He's not sure whether the notion of staying will be a surprise to Peter. It's not like Yondu ever discussed his plans to dump him with the safest pair of hands he could find; if anything, the idea of Peter living with the Ravagers is one Yondu will have to adapt to more than Peter himself. That said, now he's admitted his change of heart out loud, he finds it surprisingly easy to accept. "Ya can have a day or two to rest, then I'm gonna teach ya how to shoot. That fancy knife o' yours ain't gonna do much in a gunfight."

"Second thing is, yer gonna learn how to steal properly."

That earns him a raised eyebrow and an alarmingly cocksure smirk that has Peter resembling the nightmare of a teenager he's likely to become. As if hammering the point home, the boy looks around at the already impressive pile of stolen goods he's acquired over his stay.

"Ha ha, ya jumped up little shit," Yondu mocks, though apparently not enough to dissuade a small giggle from Peter. A lot seems to have changed over the past week; once upon a time, insulting the boy would have had him frozen in silent fear. Yondu will have to be careful if he wants to uphold any semblance of that reputation. "Yer a talented little thief, I know that. Ya need to hone that skill though. Learn to make yerself useful and steal stuff that's actually valuable if yer gonna earn yer keep."

That last point isn't entirely necessary, but Yondu knows the crew will warm to Peter more easily if he's useful on a job or two. His proficiency for squeezing into spaces grown men can't could earn them thousands of units, and if he manages to bag even one precious jewel or antique then he'll quickly stop being seen as the ship's nuisance – or worse, mascot – and start being seen as a valuable asset. It helps that Peter's built a hobby around thievery, even if it was just to keep himself entertained around the ship, and the notion of using his skills for the Ravagers' benefit elicits a willing nod.

With that, Yondu rises to his feet. There's little left to concern himself with for the moment; teaching Peter how to handle a gun can wait until he's recovered from the day's scare, and Morag is still several days away. Rest is a pleasant notion, but Yondu doubts he'll be able to switch off considering the disaster that was his first attempt, and it's not like sleep has ever come easily for him. He can still attempt an hour or two before the ship comes to life though, and there'll be plenty of opportunities to catch up on sleep before they reach their destination.

The reminder of the job that awaits them has Yondu halting just as he's about to leave, and he turns on his heels to find Peter already pulling the sheets back over himself and smothering a yawn. Ten hours of rest apparently wasn't enough.

"What would ya say to a trip to Morag?" Yondu asks. The likelihood of Peter wanting to go anywhere else is one he would have considered low, if the boy wasn't in the habit of surprising him. Sure enough, something lights up in his face as he quietly considers the offer. The possibility of danger must not be enough to vanquish the sense of adventure that had gripped him upon his first steps on a new planet. "You'll probably like it. The whole planet's a wasteland but there's a ton of ancient ruins, and it's a treasure trove if ya know where to look."

Peter doesn't waste much time thinking about the offer, and it's impossible to miss the smile that tugs at his lips as he asks, "Is it safe?"

The echo of those words has Yondu laughing out loud. It's become clear in the last few days that his answer to that should always be taken with a grain of salt. "Probably not. But then, it wouldn' be fun if it was."

That's likely not the best life advice to impart on an impressionable eight-year-old, but no matter what Yondu does, safety is always going to be a relative term where Peter's concerned. Even if he spends every waking moment in this small room, there's still the possibility of the engines going into meltdown or a stray gunshot breaching the hull if a crewmate gets aggressive. Yondu has every intention of letting Peter grow into the adult his siblings never got the chance to be, but there's a difference between keeping him safe and wrapping him in cotton wool. If the boy's proven anything of late, it's that he's a far cry from some delicate flower and that he can adapt should the need arise. It may even end up being in his best interests to teach him how to handle a blaster or explore desolate planets in search of riches.

"So," Yondu asks, once his answer has had time to sink in. "You up for it?"

Peter only needs a few more seconds to think on it before grinning and letting out an "Aye, Cap'n," that's so blatantly an impression of Kraglin that Yondu's laugh escapes him without warning. The boy doesn't join in this time, though he does look rather pleased with himself, and Yondu leaves him to his satisfaction with merely an eye-roll and a curt, "Get some rest."

It occurs to him, as he wanders towards the promise of quiet solitude resting within his own quarters, that raising a young Ravager over the coming years promises to be the bane of his existence.

Gods help him, but he thinks he's looking forward to the challenge.