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Liars and Lyres

Peter Quill is not what you'd call the average Terran. That was clear from the moment he grabbed the infinity stone. Of course, everyone just passed it off to his father's heritage.

No one ever thought to consider that Meredith Quill wasn't the average Terran either. No one besides Peter that is.

Part 3: Sunshine

Sunshine.

That was Yondu’s first thought.

He felt warm and happy and energized.

The feeling sunk into his bones, making him think of the time before Ego when he was still part of the main ravager factions and he and the boys would head down to Solaria for shore leave. He could feel the warmth from the moon’s three yellow suns raining down on him as he relaxed on the sandy beach to drink and gamble on the wave races.

He almost could have thought he was there, except instead of feeling soft sand underneath him, he felt hard metal and instead of the sound of laughter, waves, and engines, all he heard was a soft voice singing in a language Yondu’s translator didn't recognize.

The voice sounded familiar, safe, but he couldn't place it. His mind felt hazy, drugged. He tried to move, to open his eyes, but all he could manage was the slightest twitch of his limbs.

He barely noticed the pain that shot up his leg at the movement because almost immediately the singing stopped and a small hand -- sun warmed sand and golden light -- settled gently on his leg just above where the pain was radiating from.

There was a few moments of silence only broken by Yondu’s deep slow breaths, what he had to assume were the singer’s faster ones, and the faint rumbling of a ship’s engines that was almost unnoticeable after years in space.

Yondu’s focus started to drift towards the pain in his leg that was slowly growing -- claws digging into his flesh and bone, dragging him out of his stupor -- before finally the hand left his leg and the singing resumed. Alongside the unfamiliar words returned the warm sunshine feeling that washed away -- magenta waves lapping at azure banks -- the pain and the drugs were able to retake his mind.

He tried to focus on the words, pick out some sort of pattern, but the only set of repeating sounds he ended up picking out was something along the lines of up-owl-oh… Uh-pow-lo? Uh-paw-lo? No, that wasn't it either.

Whatever.

What was going on?

Where was he?

Who was singing?

Was it some form of torture?

If it was, it wasn't very good. The song wasn't even annoying, let alone torturous. It was actually kind of soothing, like the crap on Quill’s music box had become over time. Not that it'd take anything less than actual torture to get him to admit it.

Peter…

“Captain?”

Yondu opened his eyes, then realized he could open his eyes. He also realized the singing and warm feeling had disappeared at some point during his musings.

Or had it just been a dream?

He could now see he was in one of the rooms near the infirmary set aside for medical use. The chief medic, a Krylorian that only went by Doc, hovered over him.

“Morning, Captain,” they called pulling back to check the screen next to Yondu’s bed. “How are you feeling?”

“Like shit,” he huffed. His head was killing him. What did he get up to last night? He'd guess a nice round of drinks, but that didn't explain Doc’s hovering. He sat up and Doc yelped.

“Hold on, sir. You’re gonna hurt you-” they cut off, staring at Yondu’s legs.

Yondu looked down with a frown. His left pant leg was cut off just over the knee, revealing bloody bandages that had been sliced open.

Memories filtered in. Him, Kraglin, and Quill had been on a mission. They'd gotten ambushed by some bounty hunters. One of the idiots tossed a grenade before Yondu’s arrow had gotten him. Quill had shot it out of the air, but a piece of shrapnel caught Yondu’s leg. Big piece of metal. Thin, but half as long as his calf. Sunk straight into the bone. Lots of blood. Kraglin had had to help him walk back to the m-ship before, despite Yondu’s protests, sending Quill up to pilot and fussing over the captain. Sure, the twelve-Terran-years-old had taken to flying just as quick and easy as he did shooting, maybe more so, but that didn't mean he needed to be piloting Yondu’s personal ship. And Yondu definitely didn't need to be fused over.

Although, he couldn't actually remember anything past bleeding out on the floor of his ship so maybe a little fussing was in order. He'd still need to yell at Kraglin later though.

Back in the present though, there’s no shrapnel. Just a faint line where his injury had been. Barely even a scar really.

“How long was I out?”

“Only a few hours, according to Kraglin.”

“A few- Doc, I know you’re good, but I remember that injury. No way you fixed me up this good in a few hours.”

Doc shook their head and grabbed a bioscanner. “Don’t make sense,” they muttered, scanning his leg. “No sense. Don’t make sense.”

“Doc?”

“Impossible!” They turned back to the screen next to the bed. “Can’t be…”

“Doc! What’s going on?”

“You’re leg, it’s completely healed.”

“I can see that.”

“No, but your bones were fractured! One was nearly sliced clean through! Now… the fractures are still there, but they’ve healed. Somehow, your injuries aged weeks in the short time I was gone checking the stores for stitches. I've never seen anything like this. Are you on any sort of experimental drugs I should know about?”

“Doc, you're the only one I get drugs from. So unless you’ve been getting up to something…”

“Respectfully captain, I'm not stupid enough to believe I could get away with going behind your back to experiment on anyone on this ship, let alone you. If I do find something worth experimenting with, I'd bring it straight to you with the recommendation of using those halfwits we picked up in Wailod as test dummies.” Doc paused, then tilted their head to the side. “That said, I wouldn't say no to a blood sample if you'd be willing. It'd be best to be sure this isn't some warning sign. A miracle hiding a monster, if you will.”

“Just make it quick. If I'm reading you right, then I'm free to go.”

Doc hummed an agreement as they dug out a syringe. “Your leg was my only worry. You took a hit to the head, but not anything bad enough for more than a headache. Still, all the usual. If the headache lasts too long, any nausea or vertigo, you know I'll be discreet.”

“It's what I pay you for.”

Doc chuckled and rolled up his sleeve. They paused to pluck at a bandage on his forearm and Yondu caught sight of a small cut sluggishly bleeding before they fixed it back.

“Curious, it seems like your leg was the only thing healed. Arm out, if you will?”

Yondu watched the needle sink in. “How are the boys?” He didn't remember either being hurt, but he'd also been a bit distracted.

“Kraglin had a minor burn on his shoulder, but it's nothing to worry about as long as he keeps it clean. So if you'd keep on him about that…”

Yondu snorted. “I ain't his mama.”

“I'm well aware of your gender, captain.”

Yondu glared as Doc tucked away the blood sample and started cleaning up. “I ain't his da’ then.”

They just nodded their head. “Quill was the better of you three. Just a couple scrapes. He seemed pretty shaken up though so you might wanna check on him.”

“I ain't his da’ either.”

“Of course, Captain. If you'll excuse me, I need to prepare Sym for a supply run. We're running low on a few things and I never did find those stitches.”

“Doc, you're lucky you're a good medic and can be trusted to keep your mouth shut, outside of privacy at least, or I would have tossed you out the airlock years ago.”

“I'm well aware of my worth and exactly how much I can get away with because of it, Captain, but thank you all the same.” Doc bowed their head slightly before disappearing out the door.

Grumbling, Yondu headed towards his quarters to clean up and change clothes, then he could check in on the bridge. Wouldn't do for rumors to be getting out that the captain is anything except hardy.

“What the hell?” he growled when his door opened, revealing a shrimp Terran curled up on his bed. He shot a glare at the vent, only to see that it was still welded shut after the last time the brat had snuck in. Which meant he'd hacked the door lock.

Yondu marched up to the boy and jabbed him in the side with a finger.

Quill let out a yelp, jerking up into a sitting position. He looked up at Yondu with sleepy (Exhausted, really. What had the kid been getting up to in the past couple hours that he was that tired?) eyes. “Yondu?”

“While I'm glad you're getting better at breaking into places, you aren't supposed to be practicing on your captain’s room.”

“Doc let you out?”

“Don't need to be let out, but yeah, Doc fixed me all up. If you were thinking you could stay in my room because I was gone…” Yondu trailed off with wide eyes as he realized the boy was tearing up.

“‘M sorry.”

“You should be, but it ain't anything to cry over, boy.”

“Not about the room. Was waiting for you, didn't mean to fall asleep.”

“You shouldn't have come in here in the first place!”

“‘M sorry about you getting hurt. Was my fault. Shouldn't a shot that grenade. Kraglin said you'd be fine before he sent me off, but you lost so much blood and I snuck back and Doc said we just barely got you back in time and that thing had nearly cut your leg in two and you’re an ass but I don't want- Didn't mean- Was all my fault!”

Yondu stared as the kid broke down into full blown sobs, completely lost. It'd been years since he'd had to deal with Quill crying. Kid had never been a crier really, and the few times he did, it was either because of a bad injury or over his mama. But the kid had mostly grown out of the first and the second had been carefully hidden behind closed doors or inside ventilation. At least, as long as Yondu’s suspicions were correct and the boy hadn't actually outgrown those as well like Kraglin thought.

Sighing, Yondu knelt down in front of him and patted his shoulder awkwardly. “Hey now, wasn't your fault.”

“Was… Shot… grenade.”

“And if you hadn't it would have blown on top of us, and then I really would have been dead, alongside you and Kraglin.”

“But you nearly-”

“But I didn't. I'm fine, boy. See, good as new.” Yondu patted his leg. “I'm here, alive, and so are you and Kraglin. That's what matters. You did good, Peter.”

“Mean it?” the boy sniffed, scrubbing at his face.

“Yeah, kid. Now stop your whimpering. Ain't befitting a ravager.”

Quill nodded, then threw himself at Yondu.

“You hugging me, boy?”

“‘S a chokehold,” he muttered, tightening his arms slightly. “Reverse chokehold.”

“Sure, brat.”

“Dickbag.”

“Who's been teaching you to curse? They suck.”

“Been watching you. Guess you need to step up your game.”

“Careful boy or I'll let the crew eat you.”

“‘M crew.”

“True, don't change your edibility none though.”

Quill burrowed his face further into Yondu’s shoulder. “‘M glad you're not dead,” he muttered, “even if you are a mean, kidnapping asshole.”

The ravager captain didn't know how to respond to that, so he just wrapped his arms around the boy. He held him close for a moment before shoving him away. “Right, ‘nough of that. Get outta my room and don't let me catch you sneaking in here again.”

“But ‘m tired,” Quill whined, and he looked it. Whatever energy he'd regained during his nap had clearly been wiped away by his crying.

“Then go sleep in your own room,” Yondu snorted and stood up to head into the bathroom. “You best be gone by the time I get out!”

After his shower, the ravager captain dressed himself in clean clothes, swallowed a pain reducer for his headache, tucked a blanket over Quill, sent a message to Kraglin to have him tell Piq to assign the brat extra latrine duties, then headed up to the bridge to yell the crew into shape.

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