Characters: Yondu Udonta, Peter Quill, Kraglin Obfonteri (mentioned)

Relationships: Yondu Udonta & Peter Quill, Yondu Udonta/Kraglin Obfonteri (hinted)

Tags: Yondu gets shot, mentions of blood and gore, medical procedures (minor), Peter fixes Yondu up, mentions of slavery, mentions of non-consensual body modifications, mentions of abuse, mentions of medical experimentation, father & son relationship, hurt!Yondu, both of them are smart asses, family, friendship

Warnings: None.

Summary: "Yondu?"

"Hmmm?"

"Don't pass out."

"Rodger dodger!" The Centaurian gave him a sloppy salute, hissing as the movement pulled at his side.

A/N: As requested by the wonderful SupernovaPrime, a one-shot of Yondu getting hurt and Peter fixing him up. Hope you enjoy it, lovely 3

It's funny how the mind absently collects random data when adrenaline takes over. Like right now, Peter's eyes see the rust on the ramp of Yondu's m-ship, and how the man's continually dripping wound contrasts.

Crimson and burnt sienna.

The weight of the arm over his shoulder, a limp blue hand hanging in his face, ragged navy nails, sharp and unkempt.

They stumble, Yondu's feet dragging, scuffing the toes of his old boots, the sound like a kid pegging a playing card to the wheel of their bicycle.

Peter grunts, hefting the delirious Centaurian up to sway unsteadily. Picking up the hand dangling uselessly at the man's side, he presses it against the bioscanner to open the hatch to the cargo bay.

The door slides open, making Yondu start and look around wildly.

"Com'on ya old fart." Peter grunts, dragging him through the hatch towards the med bay.

"Wh-wha' happened?" He looks around, almost drunkenly. "Where's – where's Kraglin?"

Peter smiles wryly, "I'm fine thanks."

Unfocused eyes look into his seriously, "Did he – git – hurt?"

"You left him in charge of the ship Yondu, he's fine. He's on his way now." He heaves him onto the med bay table, shoving the older man down as he struggles.

"Dun wanna –"

"Yondu." Peter says seriously. "You're hurt, I hafta patch you up or you're going to bleed out."

"What happened?" He asks again.

Peter swallows heavily, blinking as he pulls back the captain's coat and undoes the ruined vest underneath. "You – you saved me."

Yondu smiles happily. "'At's right. Big – big goddamn hero, I am."

Peter snorts, giving a rueful little smile. "Yup. That's you." He pulls up the long-sleeved shirt after he's peeled back the vest and winces. The blaster shot hit him in the stomach creating a nasty gash that Peter would have to clean and stitch. "Yondu?"

"Hmmm?"

"Don't pass out."

"Rodger dodger!" The Centaurian gave him a sloppy salute, hissing as the movement pulled at his side.

The Terran rolls his eyes, turning to rummage for the draws for what he needed. "Try not to move, dumbass. You stepped in front of a shot for me and it hit you in the stomach. I'm going to have to clean and stitch it to stop you from bleeding more."

"Okie dokie, son."

Peter turns back holding up the general anaesthetic applicator and Yondu shook his head adamantly.

"Nope. Dun wan' it. Ya know how I – feel 'bout that – shit, boy."

He raises an eyebrow, "Are you sure?"

"No – no drugs 'cept tha – anti – anti – antiwhat'sit's."

Peter sighs, "Alright." He picks up the antibiotics and injects them into Yondu's neck as gently as he can. "You're a doofus, you know that?"

"Watch'it, boy, I c'n still – still kick yer ass."

"Yeah, yeah." Peter grumbles, swabbing the wound with a gauze soaked in antiseptic. He frowns, pulling the standing light closer to the gash. "Fuck!"

Yondu's head rolls up and he blinks slowly, "What's wrong?"

"There's cauterised flesh, I'm going to have to cut it out, so it doesn't go necrotic when I stitch you up."

"Ain't that a good thing?"

Peter shrugs, inspecting the area, "It's widely thought that it's a good way to prevent infection, but it ain't. It essentially creates more damaged tissue which means it's more likely to get infected. So I gotta cut it out."

The Centaurian's brows shoot up, "Whelp," he replies popping the 'p', "that's gon' suck."

Peter sighs, "Yeah." He turns to search for a scalpel when Yondu speaks up again.

"When'd ya git so – good at – at this medical stuff?"

Peter smiles, "I was sixteen when you put me on duty with doc almost constantly for a year. After a while you pick it up." He hands Yondu a wad of gauze. "Stick that in your mouth so you don't bite through your tongue."

It took Yondu three tries to grasp the gauze and shove it in his mouth.

The Terran pours disinfectant on the scalpel and carefully checked it over, "I'll try to be as quick as I can."

Yondu grasps his shoulder and squeezes gently, giving a single nod of consent.

Peter winces as he cuts into the Centaurian's wound, dabbing the blood that pools out with a cloth. Methodically, he slices and pulls the cauterised flesh away, eyes flicking up to Yondu's face constantly to make sure he hasn't passed out. The Centaurian was rigidly still, face utterly blank. Peter swallows heavily and thinks back to the stories Yondu only told when he was almost black out drunk.

Slave pens – beatings – experiments.

He grits his teeth – this wasn't like that.

He was helping – even if he had to hurt the older man to do it.

The Terran finishes and gently put a hand over Yondu's. "I can stitch it now."

Yondu turns his head to the side and spat out the gauze. "That hurt like a bitch."

"Sorry." Peter replies as he threads the needle. "Alright, going to stitch now."

"Go 'head."

Peter threads the needle into the blue skin and pinches the wound to close it up as he goes. "Why'd you do it?"

"Do wha'?" The Centaurian slurs, eyes rolling about in his head as he tries to focus.

"Step into the shot. Why'd you do it?"

Yondu snorts and answers matter-of-factly. "'Cause yer ma son, dumb shit. What kinda bloke dun protect 'is boy?" Craggy nails scratch through Peter's scruffy hair. "I love ya."

The needle in the Terran's hand almost slips at the easy admission. "W-what?"

"Dun play stupid, son. Ya heard me."

"I –"

The fingers in his hair tighten gently. "Dun go slobberin' like a babe. Sentiment's fer fluffy creatures an' romcoms."

Peter snickers into a weird little sniffing sob. "Thanks."

Yondu shrugs frenetically, "Eh, whatever."

The Terran ties off the stitching and swabs the area with disinfectant and gently places a patch over the area. He pulls Yondu's shirt down over the bandage and pats his shoulder gently. "All done."

"Thanks, son."

"You're welcome. You can sleep now I'll get us back to the Eclector."

Yondu wiggles a little to get comfortable, rests his hands on the swell of his belly and sighs. His eyes slip closed and he murmurs quietly, "I'll just have a lil' nap, an' I'll be right as rain."

Peter smiles, "Sure, Yondu."

"Dun prang ma ship." The Centaurian grunts before letting out a loud snore.

Peter chuckles and pats the man's implant, "I love you too, you blue bastard." Quietly he heads up to the cockpit to take them home.