Disclaimer: I don't own Guardians of the Galaxy.

This takes place in an alternative universe where Meredith and Yondu both survive.

Teach Me How to Dance Again

"Dance with me."

She lifted her head in surprise. "What?"

"Dance with me, Mer," he repeated. He was holding out his hand to her. A blue hand marked with calluses and old scars. He was looking at her very seriously, not in his usual cheeky way, with his head cocked to one side and his grinning mouth putting his crooked teeth on display. They were hidden now behind a firmly set mouth that was at once both resolute and beseeching, not his typical kind of expression at all. There was a plea in his eyes as well. He wasn't just asking her to dance. He was begging her to.

They were the only ones in this part of the ship. She'd come here for some time to herself, and he'd followed her shortly after, making some excuse about the others giving him a headache with their squabbling, but she knew that wasn't the real reason.

At first he'd just drifted about whistling, hands in his pockets, pretending to look out the window at the passing stars while sneaking glances at her. After a while he sauntered over to the beat-up old radio he'd found at some junk shop somewhere and turned it on. A few good songs came and went, and she tapped her foot to their beats and softly sung along while she (tried) to concentrate on the shirt she was mending. Then, no longer able to be subtle about his interest in her or his intentions, he approached her and asked her to dance.

She hesitated before giving him an answer. She had many reservations about doing anything with him that involved being physically intimate. As much as she liked him, and trusted him, she had to keep him at a distance, for her sake and his. She knew how he felt about her, and she knew she would never be able to give him what he wanted. She just couldn't bring herself to try.

"Never again," she kept telling herself decisively. No more romances with charismatic spacemen. No more romances in general. The very thought of it sickened her. She'd been used and thrown aside once already, and that was one time too many. She hated looking at herself naked now, because when she saw her faded Cesarean scar and stretch marks she remembered how Ego had tricked her into thinking she was his soulmate when, in reality, she was just his vessel. His breeder. His womb on legs. No more important to him than a broodmare, one of the dozens he'd had. She'd been young and stupid enough to walk right into his trap, and now that she was older and wiser, she had to protect herself from ever making the same mistake again.

Yondu was a good man. A criminal, a scoundrel, but one with a good heart. He'd raised her son for her, and kept him out of Ego's reach for years and years. He was her closest friend and she was his but that was as far as it could ever go. She hoped he would learn to be satisfied with just her friendship. It wasn't as if he was being deprived. Pleasure with women could be found anywhere. Bought anywhere. And he had plenty to choose from. There were lots of women who liked him for his style, his "bad boy" appeal. She rather liked it herself but it wasn't enough for her to let down her guard, no matter how much he flirted with her, no matter how much he teased.

He wasn't teasing her now though. He was genuinely asking her for a dance, like a chivalrous boy at the prom who had noticed a girl sitting on the sidelines by herself. At her actual prom she hadn't sat down for a single second; she had danced and danced and then danced some more until her feet were swollen and aching. And she hadn't needed any boy to dance with either. She'd gone with a group of girlfriends and had a blast. But that time was long past now, and that carefree, confident girl was long gone. So how was this new, cautious, insecure girl supposed to respond to Yondu's question?

"Alright," she said at last. But then she added, as a warning, "But that's all this is. Just a dance."

"Just a dance," he echoed, and there was that devilish grin that had gone missing. "Nothin' wrong with a lil' dance between friends, is there?"

"No, there isn't." She took his hand and he tugged her up to a standing position. "I'm just reminding you."

"Don't need remindin,' Mer." He gently placed one hand on the small of her back and grasped one of hers in the other. Her other hand went up to his shoulder. "I'm not playin' any games here. I just want yer company, that's all."

She could always tell when he was lying, and at that moment he wasn't lying. For once he was being really, truly sincere. He really did just want a dance.

As if on cue, the radio started a new song, "California Dreamin.'" A slow, mellow song, easy to sway to. And that's what they did. They swayed in that deserted wing of the ship while keeping an appropriate length of distance between their bodies. Only the stars were watching them, and they winked with indifference as to allow the pair some privacy.

"All the leaves are brown (all the leaves are brown) and the sky is grey (and the sky is grey). I've been for a walk (I've been for a walk) on a winter's day (on a winter's day)…"

As usual she couldn't resist singing along, which made Yondu chuckle. "You know every song from forty years back, don't cha?"

She smirked. "Only the good ones."

"I'd be safe and warm (I'd be safe and warm) if I was in L.A. (if I was in L.A.) California dreamin' (California dreamin') on such a winter's day…"

"Remind me again, what does L.A. stand for?" Yondu asked.

"Los Angeles."

"That's where all the fancy Terran people live, right?"

"Most of them, yes."

"And what's that place Petey told me about? Where they make all those movin' pictures? Hollyweed?"

Meredith laughed. "Hollywood. And yes, that's where they make movies. I used to dream about living there, and being an actress in musicals like Singin' In the Rain, Funny Face, Cabaret…do you know what any of those are?"

"Nope. Are they good?"

"They're amazing."

"Then I'll try to watch 'em sometime, if I can find the tapes." He paused to spin her around once. Twice. "You'd have made a good actress. Yer pretty enough."

Perhaps. But she had no talent for acting. And she'd gotten sidetracked. The man of her dreams had swooped in and crushed all of her dreams. She sighed sorrowfully.

"Did I say somethin' wrong?" Yondu asked, his brow furrowing with concern.

"No, no, I'm just…I mean, I really shouldn't be talking about the past. It's not good for me."

"What would be good for ya, then?" Yondu usually said things like that flirtatiously, to get a blush out of her. Now he sounded worried and ardent to help instead. Strangely enough, she found that she would have greatly preferred the flirting.

"Maybe not talking right now…" she answered, looking down at their feet, shuffling back and forth across the floor. "Maybe just doing this. Dancing."

"Right. Okay. No talkin'. Gotcha." He sounded disappointed but, when she looked back up at his face again, he was smiling with good humour. And then he started to whistle along to the song. She'd always been jealous of that whistle, and not just because he could wield a deadly weapon with it. She was jealous of the way he could fill in silence so easily, when conversation died. When she couldn't talk and she couldn't sing, her tongue just sat limp in her mouth, and felt like she was failing somehow. She'd been raised to be a charming, socially endowed Southern girl. She'd gone to finishing school. They didn't teach whistling there. There were a lot of things they didn't teach there that she wished she'd learned.

He spun her again, and this time she caught him sneaking a sniff of her wrist. Out of habit she'd put a dab of perfume there. A pointless vanity, considering she was aboard a ship where nobody cared what anybody smelled like. Showering was optional. The water supply on the ship had to be preserved.

"If I didn't have the perfume, I'd stink as much as any of them," she thought. But would that really be such a bad thing, in light of everything else going on, in this chaotic galaxy, and in her very, very unsettled heart?

Ego hadn't had a scent, at least not one of his own. He could imitate the way skin and clothes looked and felt but not the way they smelled. He'd covered this up by splashing on a lemony cologne, like a second mask to go with his deceiving face, and she had loved it then, the constant sharp freshness that reminded her of clean laundry. But now, looking back, she realized how bizarre and unnerving it had been, him not having a smell that wasn't chemical. It wasn't natural and it wasn't right. It was just another part of the facade she'd fallen for.

Yondu smelled the way a real man was supposed to smell. He smelled of sweat, dirt, salt, leather, and exhaust fumes. And it enveloped her as he slowly and gradually drew her closer to fill in the space between them. To her own surprise, she didn't resist him, not this time. She let him pull her in, until their bodies were pressed together and he had both of his arms wrapped around her. She kept her own hands on his shoulders.

She was so much smaller than him. Her head only reached his chest, and there she let it rest as they continued to sway to the music in a tighter embrace. He raised one hand from her back to stroke her head, running his fingers through her silky blonde curls, which had miraculously grown back. Yondu considered this to be a miracle as well, the way she was letting him touch her.

"All the leaves are brown (all the leaves are brown) and the sky is grey (and the sky is grey)…"

"Oh, Mer," he began, breaking their previously established "No talking" rule. He gave a deep sigh, one that was heavy with regret. "If only I'd met you before that no good jackass did. If only I'd been first. I would have protected you."

"I know." She smiled warmly and gratefully. "I know you would have, Yondu. Thank you."

"He hurt you, Mer. Yer hurtin' and I can't make it go away."

"This is helping," she told him reassuringly. "It's been so long since I've danced. You're teaching me how to dance again. I'd almost forgotten how."

"If I didn't tell her (If I didn't tell her), I could leave today (I could leave today)…"

"I love you, Mer. You know that, don't cha?"

"Yes, Yondu, I do know. I love you too. Maybe not in that way, but—"

"I know, Mer," he cut her off. "I know. It's enough. It's enough for me."

"California dreamin', on such a winter's day…"

"California dreamin', on such a winter's day…"

"California dreamin', on such a winter's daaaaaaaaaaaaay…"

FIN