To answer an important question- My plan for this is to give equal time to each time period of Peter's life up to the start of the first movie when he's 34, then a follow up after the end of the first movie as well as a follow up after the second, especially with an emphasis on Kraglin and Peter.
I want to clarify it wasn't the lack of reviews in general I was expressing my frustrations with, I will admit to my fair share of reading without reviewing so I understand not everyone wants to or feels comfortable leaving a comment. It was those who left a comment with a prompt request but failed to leave any response on the story they asked for was disheartening. It made me feel like I'd lost readers, I'd taken too long to produce their prompt, but I'm trying to go in an order here and some of these amazing ideas didn't fit when he was younger so it took a few chapters to get there, or maybe its still in the works, but those I have put out and haven't heard from the source of idea have made me feel inadequate. I love how many of you praise my writing, the support is so appreciated you don't even know, I criticize myself to no end.
Thank you so much, all of you who reached out with a comment or a message, forgive me if I respond quickly, I'm usually at work and to see a message in the midst of internet leads who will probably hang up on me I'm eager to answer a message of enthusiasm and support. Thank you =)
This is just a few days after the last chapter which takes places nearly a year after the Nova Corps Worldmind festival if I don't make that clear enough. Stupid boots. I felt like I had to clarify some things with the boot building, cause y'know I'm insane, and this was planned to be a prompt but no joke Yondu just came in and started shit. Happy reading and thank you!
Yondu had let Peter and Kraglin clear part of the hangar, that was mostly unusable parts no one had bothered to throw out, and use it as a practice area for the blaster boots they'd been working to perfect. Kraglin had stripped down the motion detection module to the absolute necessities and showed Peter how he'd installed tiny wireless connectors between the remote's and the boot turbines' internal sensors. Peter had sewn a pocket into his sleeve for easy access, as well as ensuring the remote was secure, and they did end up having to had two layers of ignifuge, but Peter decided he liked the rugged look of the black rubber on his boots.
Even Yondu had offered a few suggestions when he'd snuck up on them in the hangar, pointing out the little straps might hold briefly, but installing the turbines fully on one side with something that wrapped from Peter's ankle to his shin would ultimately last longer.
"And if you want any kinda height or speed y'better double it up," the Captain had said, finishing his critique of their invention.
"The board just had the two, sir," Kraglin's shrug had been nervous, clearly surprised by the Captain's reaction.
"There's about half a dozen'a these collectin' dust in the third quadrant closet," Yondu's remark had been enough invitation for Peter, who'd bolted instantly from the hangar.
Using Yondu's idea for securing the blasters, Kraglin and Peter cut the teenager's first Ravager jacket and used buckles and straps from a bunch of old holster belts they'd found, but they were uniform.
"Kraglin, Peter, you back here?" Tullk's call echoed in the hangar.
"Yeah, over here!" Kraglin yelled back from the workbench.
Peter was on the floor, hunched over the leather cutouts from his old jacket, using a laser along the edges to singe the sides into one piece and occasionally attached a buckle or strap. Kraglin's tongue was pinned between his lips while he soldered two blaster cylinders to either side of the thin control module he'd just painstakingly connected the wires between.
"Them those boots Capt'n was talkin' about?" Tullk asked, leaning on the workbench and inspecting the device in Kraglin's hands.
"Not much'a anything yet," Kraglin said, "but they're gettin' there."
"What're you makin'?" Tullk nodded at Peter.
Peter just picked the unfinished leather off the ground, shaking it gently and a few singed bits fell before he wrapped it around his shin and turned his leg to the side a little, "The blasters are gonna go here."
"Looks like you two got it all figured out then," Tullk's comment was as close to a compliment as the man could muster.
"Thanks t'the Capt'n," Kraglin said, "First ones we built weren't half this good."
"Well, work on 'em later," Tullk jerked his head towards the exit, "Chow time."
"Yeah, alright," Kraglin set the project on his workbench and turned to Peter, "C'mon, kid."
Peter scowled, he hated when anyone called him kid, and Kraglin damn well knew it, "I'm not hungry, go ahead."
Kraglin made a growling sound in the back of his throat, "Peter, c'mon, put it down, we'll work on it more tomorrow."
"I just said I wasn't hungry," Peter said slowly, his eyes set challengingly on the First Mate.
"And I'm sayin' I don't care," Kraglin forced through gritted teeth, "Get'cher ass up 'n eat with the rest'a us."
Peter breathed heavily, but with Kraglin bearing down on him and Tullk watching with interest a few steps behind, he realized he wasn't going to win, "Fine, whatever," Peter pushed himself up and started to walk away from his half-finished project on the floor.
"Pick it up," Kraglin growled warningly, his nostrils flaring, a clear indication he was nearing his breaking point.
Peter rolled his eyes, making sure Kraglin saw the gesture before turning and stooping to pick up the pieces of leather, buckles and tools, setting them deliberately on the workbench while glowering at the First Mate. He tried to push passed him, but Kraglin grabbed Peter roughly by his upper arm, tugging the young man close and whispered harshly in his ear.
"We just talked about this three days ago! Lose the damn attitude!" Kraglin released Peter as callously as he'd pulled him to his side.
Tullk offered a quick expression of stifled sympathy with more of an emphasis on 'you should've listened the first time, kid'. Peter hated he even heard the crew calling him 'kid' in the looks they gave him and scowled harder than he meant to at Tullk, but he didn't care, and hung several paces back from the older Ravagers as they walked towards the mess hall.
He still sat with them during dinner, Peter didn't want to bring Yondu's attention to a disagreement between himself and Kraglin, and, since they'd been sitting together for nearly a decade, a sudden interruption to that routine wouldn't escape the Captain's notice. Kraglin and him didn't talk for the entire meal, however, which Peter ate quickly before leaving the First Mate, Horuz and Tullk to discuss a new Inter-Galactical law the Nova Corps had passed.
He shoved his headphones over his ears as soon as he left the mess hall and headed towards the hangar again, there was plenty of time before lights out.
Peter was so tired of everyone still treating him like a child. He was at least seventeen, or nearly seventeen, he hadn't checked his Earth calendar for a while, but Peter checked every few months and he was always close. He peeled Kraglin's old jacket off, tossing it over the back of a chair at the workbench, rocking his freed shoulders to the beat of Come and Get You Love. If Yondu didn't offer to get him a new jacket on their next stop on Xandar he'd just buy it himself, but he'd rather save his money and convince the Captain into the purchase if he could.
They hadn't been back to Xandar since the altercation with Denarian Goch and Peter grinned as a memory of kissing Cynia flashed in his mind. He'd thought about her a lot in the few months immediately following the Worldmind festival, but, in the several more after that, her pretty face had faded from the spotlight. He hoped she was well whenever he thought of her, which is more than he could say for the couple girls he'd had similar meetings with since on Dakkam and Contraxia, Peter didn't even remember either's name, though that hadn't been his focus.
He'd been so drunk while practicing his make-out skills with the young Contraxian woman Peter could hardly remember what she'd looked like, but the Dakkanian he'd gotten much further with and had been mostly sober, yet getting to know each other hadn't been a priority. Guarra, Guanna, something like that, she wasn't as pretty as Cynia, but she definitely had more experience kissing, among other things. Her face had become a vague memory, but her dark, silky hair was seared into his mind, forever linked to the euphoric feeling she'd created while her head had bobbed in his lap.
That wasn't kid stuff, though Peter had decided against announcing the new experience to the crew or Captain, only telling Kraglin about the girl with the magic tongue. The First Mate had proudly jabbed Peter in the arm and told him that was only the beginning of the good stuff, making Peter extremely anxious for their next recreational planet stop. Though when Yondu announced it would be O'erlanii Peter's desire had plummeted, the few A'askvariians he'd seen on Xandar hadn't exactly been appealing. His stomach turned thinking about their needle-like teeth and what the Dakkanian girl had done, making Peter reflexively adjust his pants with a quick pinch, he would definitely never find himself in that situation with an A'askvariian.
A rough hand on his shoulder made Peter jump as Yondu turned him from the workbench, squeezing his muscular bicep harshly.
"What?" Peter wrenched out of the Captain's grasp while tearing his blaring headphones from his ears.
"How many times have I told'ja not t'have them damn things so loud?!" Yondu barked.
Peter blinked slowly and wiped a dramatic hand across his face where tiny bits of angry spit had landed.
"Well?" Yondu growled.
"Oh, you actually want me to answer that?" Peter scoffed.
The Captain's cheeks tinged a faint purple, proving to Peter he was toeing the line if he hadn't already crossed it. The smack to the left side of his head was expected.
"Watch it, boy," Yondu warned, but Peter's temper erupted.
"Stop," Peter couldn't help the word that spilled passed his lips.
"What was that?" Yondu's red eyes and mohawk fin pulsed.
"I'm not a kid anymore!" he challenged loudly, seething at the Captain, "I'm not boy! Or Petey! I'm stronger than half your crew damn it! Please, stop, stop callin' me that shit."
Yondu's eyebrows were raised in surprise and his snarling lips twitched upward at the young man, "I wouldn't say half."
"Y'know what I meant," Peter grumbled.
"Didn't realize it bothered ya," Yondu shrugged a bit indifferently.
"It does," Peter shrugged very sincerely.
Yondu nodded curtly, "Well, whether y'r'a kid or not it's time for my entire crew t'call it a day. Put y'r'shit away 'n get t'bed."
Peter didn't respond, but put the leather pieces and tools in a drawer before skulking passed Yondu towards the hangar entrance, grabbing his jacket on the way, slinging it over one shoulder instead of putting it on. The Captain strode alongside him in a moment and Peter rolled his shoulders back, straightening his posture to earn a little extra height, just a few more inches and Yondu wouldn't be able to argue whether Peter was taller than him or not.
"Pete, the hell you get off to?" Kraglin asked incredulously as he walked out of the shower room, bare chested, wearing loose pants and wicking the last bit of moisture from his short hair with his hand.
"I got it, Kraglin," Yondu said stiffly and Peter gave the First Mate a smug grin behind the Captain's back as they passed, catching Kraglin's eyeroll and head shake as he slipped into his room.
"Night, Yondu," Peter said, stopping at his door.
"Wait," Yondu's demand halted Peter's progress and he turned back to the Captain, "Ain't you owe me a chart on the Sovereign hierarchy, like, yesterday?"
Peter tried to hide the instinctual cringe from his face, having completely forgotten about the homework Yondu had given him the week before, "I'm almost done."
"Yeah?" Yondu grinned challengingly, "Let's see what'cha got so far."
"I'm really tired," Peter tried to cover quickly, adding a little pitifulness to his voice, "I'll give it to you tomorrow, but, can I just, go t'bed, please?"
"You haven't even started it have you?" Yondu raised an eyebrow.
"Of course, I have," Peter scoffed, but twisted under the Captain's hard gaze, "I mean, mostly, I just. Okay, fine, but it'll take me two minutes."
"Y'r'not allowed in the hangar till it's done," the Captain said firmly, "Y'r'lucky I don't make it longer."
"Whatever," Peter grumbled, turning into his room.
"Scuse me?" Yondu snapped, gaining the teenager's attention quickly, "Y'wanna get treated like a man y'better start actin' like it, son."
Peter bit back a retort that he wasn't Yondu's son, forcing a neutral, "Yes, sir," passed his gritted teeth.
"You better send me that break down before breakfast," Yondu growled and turned to leave.
"What the hell's it matter?" Peter grumbled before shutting his door, backing into his room quickly when Yondu forced it open angrily and stalked towards him.
"Boy, you just do not know when to quit!" Yondu bellowed, stopping a few feet in front of Peter, who had backed up as far against his wall as he could, trying not to look intimidated, "I don't care what you think about what I tell ya t'do! You say yes, sir and do it! Am I understood?"
"What the hell do you care if I know the Sovereign hierarchy?!" Peter yelled back, "Or how t'get t'Sirius?! What does is frickin' matter?!"
Yondu's anger faltered into brief surprise, before his nostrils flared and his eyes narrowed again, "You wanna spend y'r'whole life on this ship? Or y'wanna go out there on y'r'own not knowin' where y'r'goin' or who y'might run into? You think if you found yourself and that ship y'love so much stuck in Sovereign territory it wouldn't help t'know their rules? 'Cause them folks execute outsides for sneezin' around 'em. But, no, what good could information serve you? Y'know everything already, ain't that right?"
"No," Peter muttered, his ears burning from his subsiding anger and building embarrassment.
"I'm sorry y'r'not an idiot Gef," Yondu scoffed sarcastically, "I've never so much as made him learn t'spell his name right 'n ain't gonna bother, but you, you can hate me all y'want, but I'm gonna ride'ja like a stubborn mule."
"Why?" Peter's question wasn't bitter as he stared earnestly at the Captain.
"You wanna spend y'r'whole life on this ship?" Yondu asked and Peter looked at him nervously, "Cause I don't think I could handle y'here for the rest'a your life," Peter chuckled lightly and they grinned at each other just enough to break the tension, "I see ya on y'r'own, comin' back a few times a cycle, work the big stuff together 'n make sure y'aint dead or nothin'."
"Really?" Peter was surprised and excited, in complete disbelief of the Captain's idea of his future.
"You don't?" Yondu scoffed.
"No, I do," Peter nodded, "I always have, I mean, since I met Kona 'n learned about scavengers-"
"Y'ain't a scavenger," Yondu growled, "Y'r'a Ravager, y'got a code 'n you always stick by it. Y'hear?"
"Yes, sir," Peter said.
"You might be too big to eat now, but'cha ain't too big to whup," Yondu's warning tone returned and Peter's stomach twisted, "You have that done before you step into that mess hall in the mornin', and I swear, you better straighten up 'n fly right, Petey."
Peter nodded, then looked at the Captain and said very calmly, "Yes, sir, but, please, can you stop, callin' me, Petey, please?"
Yondu obviously wanted to laugh more than he did outwardly, but nodded, "I stop callin' you a kid name you better stop actin' like one."
"Yes, sir," Peter agreed quickly.
"Alright," Yondu smirked, "Quill, get t'bed, 'n you better not be forgettin' this conversation."
"No, sir," he promised, sighing heavily when Yondu shut his door after he left and plopping on his bed.
Under a mess of clothes at the end of his bed he grabbed his tablet and started researching the Soverign, quickly becoming intrigued by the impossibly rigid culture of what looked like those dumb awards actors won once a year on Earth. He smirked sadly when the memory of complaining to his Mom and begging her to change the channel crossed his mind, that was before she was sick, he'd really tried not to complain after he learned she was dying, at least not to her.
Slipping his headphones over his ears and bobbing his head along with the blasting beat, Peter finished the assignment in exactly twice as long as he said it would and went to bed with thoughts of solo-flighting through the galaxies.
Thank you =)
