Ain't No Mountain High Enough

I kept him ‘cause he’s small and fits into spaces others can’t. Good for thievin'.

It’s the truth because Peter fits perfectly in that gaping black hole inside Yondu’s chest. Too bad he’s too much of a fucking coward to admit it.

(Post GotG Vol. 2 Fix-it.)


1. Yondu

I just had to write something. The movie gave me too much feels. *Muffles ugly sobs into a pillow*

This fic assumes Nebula stays.

Chronology of the chapters (just in case it's confusing): The first chapter is a hugely broad one covering the events of both chapter 2, 3 and 4. So basically Peter's Rocket's and Gamora's POV are from events that happened in between the events in chapter 1. I hadn't planned on elaborating this into a multi-chaptered fic at first.

He should’ve died, but by some goddamn cosmic irony, he doesn’t.

Instead, Yondu wakes up to the hideous sight of Peter’s splotchy red face bent over him, snot and tears dribbling down his chin in copious amounts. His boy is rocking to and fro, one hot hand cradling Yondu’s numb cheek, whispering something Yondu can’t hear past the loud ringing noise in his ear.

“…what the...hell, boy...” He summons all the remaining energy left and swats irritably at Peter’s stupid face with his left hand, but it ends up catching in Peter’s collar and his idiot kid flinches so hard he almost head-butts Yondu back into oblivion, which in hind sight would’ve been the preferred option.

“Oh my god, I’ve got you, Yondu. You’re going to be ok,” Peter catches Yondu’s hand tightly in his, and to Ravager captain's fascinated horror, lifts their entwined fingers to his tear-covered cheek and says in a nauseatingly sappy voice, “we’re both going to be ok.”

Before Yondu can reach for his Yaka arrow, Peter presses a loud wet kiss to the top of his head and turns to the faces swimming unsteadily at the edge of Yondu’s flickering vision and says, “My dad’s alive!”

The words are greeted with a deafening cheer, and one face floats into focus above them. Yondu blinks blearily at Stakar’s smirk.

“Ya' done did good, old friend,” Ogord says.

Peter, still red and sweaty in the face but beaming like the first time Yondu complimented him on his aim all those years ago, pulls the injured Ravager captain close to his chest and whispers, “Get some rest. Everything’s going to be alright.”

Yondu shuts his eyes and does just that.



For his valor and sacrifice, Stakar welcomes Yondu back to the Ravager clan with open arms. It doesn’t feel right. The surreal situation makes him feel uneasy, like its something out of a sick dream, give him what he craves at the bottom of his heart only to rip it away when he least expects it. Yondu accepts Ogord's invitation, but decides to put off meeting with the rest of his old team for as long as possible. He needs to think things over and scrape together a team of misfits again, preferably one he doesn’t have to burn and kill within two weeks.

The thing with Peter, Yondu decides, is a strange fluke, something his severely oxygen-deprived brain hallucinated, because the dumbass kid would never in a million years call Yondu his father, and never to a roomful of Ravagers and his space friends.


“Looks like you’re finally up and about,” Peter says cheerfully when Yondu shaves off the week-old fuzz growing on the lower part of his face and pulls his Ravager overcoat back on after being unwillingly subjected to a week’s bedrest.

“You heading out?” Peter asks, feigning casual conversation. Yondu grunts and jerks his collar up.

“Overheard Krags telling Gamora y’all are going out to recruit folks,” The boy persists. “Mind if I tag along?”

The question makes Yondu laugh. The sound echoes, cracked and wheezy, in the small washroom. He wipes his hands clean and says, “since when do you ask to come along with me, boy? Last I recall, you couldn’t get far enough. Whatsshat you used to say, whole galaxy ain’t big enough to put between you and me?”

“I was a kid, didn’t mean none of the shit I said,” Quill’s voice cracks a little and Yondu straightens, sharp eyes catching sight of Peter’s somewhat red-rimmed ones through the reflection in the grimy cracked mirror. Yondu crosses over to him in two long strides, grabs the stupid kid by the ear and twists hard, watching with grim satisfaction the moisture seep out of his eyes for a whole different reason. “Owww, what the hell, Yondu? Let go!”

“What’d I say, boy? Huh?” He shakes Peter like a dog, bares his crooked teeth in Peter’s face and spits out, “Ravagers don’t cry like babies.”

“Ok, ok, I get it, you grumpy old fart.” Peter’s annoyed voice still sounds too affectionate for Yondu’s liking, but Kraglin takes that moment to appear at the door, grinning and practically bouncing with excitement.

“Ready to head out, Capt'n?” He asks, putting a heavy emphasis on the word.

Yondu rolls his eyes, valiantly ignores the kicked-puppy expression on his grown-ass kid’s face, and shoves roughly past his first-mate. At least Peter doesn’t try to call him “dad” again. Yondu might just barf if he hears it one more time, imagination or not.



Things get weird again in a bar on Knowhere.

Peter had insisted someone other than Kraglin tag along with him when Yondu put his foot down and flat out refused to let Peter go, so the green one and her blue-skinned sister came instead. He forgets about their presence after two drinks.

Yondu doesn’t know if word had gotten out about him joining Ogord’s lot again, but the recruitment process has gone strangely smoothly. He’s rounded up a group of eager men, not too bright by the looks of it, but Kraglin agrees this lot'll have to do for now. Yondu’s got a lot of shit to fix and steal before they can get back to their old status and he won’t be too hung up about it if a handful of the new recruits die before that happens.

He’s about to head out for the night when one of his new recruits, a huge burly fish-faced humanoid mutters, “so from now on we’re taking orders from a Kree slave?”

The room quiets immediately, all eyes turning to Yondu who drains his glass and stands slowly.

“What’d you just say, sonny?” He reaches for the flap of his coat, but before the fish-man or Yondu can act, a knife flies out of nowhere and embeds itself in the troublemaker’s throat.

Yondu blinks, taken aback. Fish-Face is clawing frantically at the slimy blue liquid pouring from the wound when Peter’s little green girlfriend pushes her way past a stunned Kraglin, her sister not two steps behind. She pulls the blade out of the gushing wound and wipes it on the man’s twitching shoulder.

Smiling thinly, Gamora turns to the silent crowd, “next person to speak ill of your captain won’t get off so easily.”

There’s a wet crack and Nebula lets the body slide slowly to the filthy ground, the head twisted at a strange angle, its eyes bulging in their sockets. She crosses her arms and aims that dead soulless stare at Yondu’s new recruits.

“Hell,” Yondu whistles, impressed. Kraglin gulps.

His good mood gets soiled almost immediately. The bartender tells him the drinks are on the house. Apparently, they refuse to accept payment from Star-Lord’s old man.

Peter looks incredibly proud of himself when Yondu stomps back to their ship with his new crew in tow.

“I made dinner!” The stupid kid yells happily. Behind him, smoke, thick and a worrying shade of purple, billows. There’s a sharp smell of burning rubber permeating the air. Kraglin gags and covers his nose and mouth.

“Abandon ship!!!” The rodent yells somewhere from within the smoke.

Yondu decides that he’s not very hungry.



They ban Peter from the kitchen. It’s a unanimous vote, 32 against 1.

His kid throws a fit and attempts to protest by crawling into the air-duct like he used to.

He gets stuck.

Yondu laughs himself sick and leaves the boy to squirm for two hours before ordering his men to drag him out by his ankles.



The Ravager ship feels somehow fuller with Peter there.

But most likely, it’s because Yondu’s missing two-thirds of his actual ship.

The thing is, Peter doesn’t seem inclined to secure a new ship of his own and leave anytime soon, and that poses a problem for Yondu. He’s gotten used to the kid high-tailing it off of whatever planet the Ravagers are headed to, he’s gotten used to the kid spitting insults at his face, telling him how much he hates Yondu, but this current situation he can’t stand.

He can’t stand the way Peter smiles at him now, like how he used to when he was barely as tall as the rodent on board. It reminds Yondu of the old days, when Peter hung onto every word he said and thought Yondu was the coolest person in the entire galaxy. Peter's like N'Iran weed. Give him an ounce of affection and he spreads like wildfire, consuming everything in sight. The amount of worship and adoration in those brilliant blue eyes had squeezed the air from Yondu's lungs and shaken him to his core because the truth is, he deserves none of it. Yondu's not the handsome, swashbuckling Robin Hood Peter keeps comparing him to, he's a savage space pirate who'd snatched the stupid kid away from his family for money. 

So he had taken the coward's way out and threatened to feed Peter to his crew, screamed at him and pushed him away because he'd rather be on the receiving end of the kid's resentment than anything that remotely resembled love. Men like Yondu didn't deserve something that pure.

But by some miracle, that scrawny little Terran boy who'd bravely worn his heart on his sleeve managed to survive amongst Yondu and his nasty-ass band of scumbags. 

Yondu's so goddamn proud of what his boy has grown up to be despite the shitty circumstances. And somehow along the way, he'd become Yondu's kid. 

His son.

His kickass little Star-Lord. 



I kept him ‘cause he’s small and fits into spaces others can’t. Good for thieving. 

It’s the truth because Peter fits perfectly in that gaping black hole inside Yondu’s chest.

Too bad he’s too much of a fucking coward to admit it.

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