Yondu & truth serum? (Something about this fandom makes me want to go as tropey as possible)
I am up for ALL the tropes. Especially these kinds of tropes. :D
“Shit, they really did a number on you, didn’t they, man?”
It was at times like this that Peter fully appreciated how heavy Yondu was, even if Peter had outgrown him by the time he was sixteen (and hadn’t that been a trip, realizing he could look down into Yondu’s eyes). But Yondu was compact and solid, most of it muscle, and right now it was all Peter could do to keep him from ending up in a heap on the floor as they made their awkward way down the hallway of the Quadrant.
Peter had one of Yondu’s arms slung over his shoulder, his other hand gripped on Yondu’s belt. Yondu, head lolling on Peter’s shoulder, smelled like sour sweat and blood, though his captors hadn’t roughed him up that much, as far as Peter could tell. Mostly they’d just drugged him.
And what information they’d actually gotten out of him would remain a mystery, since between Peter and Rocket, that was one group of bounty hunters who wouldn’t be hunting any more bounties.
“Ain’t nothin’ broke, I don’t think,” Yondu muttered through his teeth, his voice a little bit slurred. “Head’s killin’ me, feels like I’m gonna puke on ya’, if you don’t stop manhandlin’ me around like this – an’ stop askin’ me questions, boy!”
“It wasn’t meant to be a question,” Peter said, and added, “jerk,” under his breath, but quietly, as he elbowed open the door to the captain’s quarters. At least he’d managed to get an honest answer out of Yondu about how he was feeling, which was unlikely to happen at any other time..
… because honest answers were currently the only sort he could give. Whatever the heck they’d given him was some kind of interrogation drug. As soon as they’d figured that out, Peter had hustled him off to a part of the ship where no one was going to bother him until it wore off.
He let Yondu ooze limply onto the bed. Yondu cracked an eye open. “Place ain’t changed much since I been gone,” he remarked.
“I’m not sleeping up here,” Peter admitted. “It didn’t feel right, even after you left. We divided up one of the bigger rooms to make quarters for everybody. Gamora and I sleep down there.”
“Hell, boy, it’s your ship.”
“I know,” Peter said, a little helplessly. “But this part of it still feels like yours.”
He went off quickly to get a cup of water and stop himself from babbling anymore – Yondu might be the one who’d gotten dosed with truth serum, but Peter was the one who couldn’t stop running off at the mouth. This was the first time he’d seen Yondu in over a year. They stayed in touch, but Yondu had his life, putting together a new crew with Kraglin, and Peter had his, and … time got away from them both, he supposed.
It shouldn’t take a kidnapping to get them both in the same part of the galaxy.
When he came back with the water, Yondu looked asleep, one arm thrown over his eyes, but he lowered it and blinked as Peter set the cup beside the bed. His pupils were blown out, only a thin sliver of red visible around the edges of the irises.
“Light hurting your eyes?” Peter asked.
“Sure ain’t helping the headache none.”
“I could get you something for that, but I don’t know how it’d react with whatever’s already in your system,” Peter said, dialing down the lights until the quarters were dim, nearly dark.
“Don’t bother. Just need to sleep it off.”
“You shouldn’t be in pain,” Peter said, sitting on the edge of the bed.
“Hell, boy, I’m always in pain.”
“You are?” Peter looked at him in surprise.
“I was a Kree battle slave, boy; everything they did to me, the nerve damage, broken bones, don’t just go away. An’ I’m old, for a Centaurian …” His increasingly slurred voice trailed off, and then he said, sharper, “An’ stop askin’ me questions, dammit.”
“I’m not trying to.” Peter pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes. He was tired, and shaky from adrenaline crash; for the better part of two days, they hadn’t known if Yondu was alive or dead, and then finding him chained up in the bounty hunters’ little ship, beaten and drugged –
But he was okay, basically. Or at least he was going to be. He’d told them that he didn’t think the drug he’d been given was toxic, just unpleasant – and he couldn’t exactly lie about it.
“You don’t gotta sit there,” Yondu grumbled, throwing his arm across his eyes again. “I’m gonna be jus’ fine once this wears off.”
“Do you want me to leave?”
“No,” Yondu said. He grimaced. “Yes. I dunno.” He made a sound of inarticulate frustration. “So pissin’ hard to think right now. Don’t mind havin’ you there, never really mind havin’ you there, but I’d kinda like to be alone.”
Peter didn’t quite manage to keep the grin off his face, but there was a time and a place for teasing Yondu, and this wasn’t it. He hesitated before patting Yondu’s arm.
“Best thing in the world,” Yondu murmured, “was seein’ you come through that door.” He cleared his throat. “Tell those friends of yours, any of ‘em come in here before this wears off, I’ll drill 'em with the arrow. 'Course, I wouldn’t really; you know that, they prob'ly know that, an’ – goddammit –”
“Don’t worry,” Peter said. “I’ll make sure nobody bothers you for the next few hours. Get some sleep, old man.”
