What Cowboys Do

Hangovers were the worst part of getting drunk.

Yondu had been awake for the past hour and a half, but the headache wasn't going away. His brain was throbbing inside his skull, making it painful to even open his eyes.

He groaned and turned over in the rough hospital sheets. For the past hour and a half, he had been trying to wait out the worst of the headache, and for the past hour and a half, the headache had gotten steadily worse. Yondu knew that the only thing that was going to make it go away was food, water, and time. 

That didn’t mean he was going to enjoy it.

Kraglin was already pulling on his boots when he finally opened his eyes. It appeared that his first mate had been awake and moving long before Yondu even emerged from dreamland. He grumbled as he swung his legs over the side of the bed, swaying a little when his vision went back and bile rose in his throat.

“Tullk’s in the bathroom right now, Cap’n. I can get ya a bucket.”

Yondu groaned and lowered his head, rubbing his hand over his mohawk. That was the last thing he needed to hear. “Fuck off, Krags.”

The snicker was barely contained. Kraglin knew exactly how drunk Yondu had been, and that meant that he could get away with a good amount of shit. “Sorry, Cap’n. Here.” He handed over some fresh water he had gotten that morning. Yondu downed it in one go. “Ya got any plans for us today?”

Yondu paused, rubbing his hand over his face. Right, captain’s duties. He had to do those. “Uh… nah. Take a day to enjoy the town. We’re pausin’ for a while to get some decent fuckin’ rest. As long as ya don’t get shot, I don’t care what y’all do,” he replied, his words slurring together a little bit. There was no way he was going to be able to function properly with this hangover eating away at his sanity.

Kraglin nodded, lacing up his boots. "Aye Cap'n. I'm goin' take a stroll."

Yondu grunted and nodded, turning to fall back into the uncomfortable covers. If this hangover didn't plan on going away, then he didn't plan on getting up.

The town had seemed small when they first rode in, but now, Kraglin thought, it seemed even smaller.

The inn was located near the edge of the town. It was there to be easy to find for newcomers but also to separate the Offworlders who often stayed there from the common townsfolk. No respectable Terran wanted to be around any rowdy Offworlders, he remembered.

When Kraglin had first arrived, everyone’s judgement had bothered him a little. Sure, he got his few stares back on other planets when he was the only Ravager within a five mile radius, but that hardly ever happened. Ravagers stayed where Ravagers lived; they never travelled outside of their common hangouts unless it was for a job. Even if they did, they used disguises to get what they wanted or they hit their enemies so hard that they didn’t have time to stare.

He ignored the looks he earned from some girls chittering away on the steps. They huddled closer when he walked by, mumbling about how they “didn’t understand why those Ravagers couldn’t just leave us alone.” Kraglin let it roll off his shoulders. He was the young first mate of the ruthless Yondu Udonta. He wouldn’t be messed with by a couple of Terran girls.

Back on Contraxia, Kraglin was actually pretty popular with the ladies. Xandarians on Contraxia were a rarity, and the bots didn’t care much for his race or age. If he asked them, they’d do anything he wanted; he didn’t even have to feel bad because they weren’t real.

On Xandar, though, he was popular in a different way. He wasn’t even in his twenties yet, and most teenage girls on Xandar were obsessed with the “bad boys”. They wanted a Ravager just to prove to everyone else that they weren’t goodie two shoes, even though they often were. Quick fucks were never enough for those girls, and more often than not Kraglin was seen avoiding certain streets or bars just so he wouldn’t see one of his flings.

Terra was a mix of them both. Some of the young girls let him flirt and tease until their fathers came running with shotguns, others came up to him and flirted with him until they ended up in a backroom or an alley. Sometimes, though, girls turned up their nose and told him that they weren’t low enough to lay with an Offworlder. Kraglin had never experienced that before; Ravagers didn’t run with stuck ups. Hell, they hardly worked with them. Even the Ravager Admirals themselves liked to get down and dirty every once and a while.

The thought of the Ravager Admirals caused a pang of sadness in Kraglin’s heart. Stakar and Aleta were in the business of taking in the people that other societies tended to forget about, such as Yondu, Kraglin, and Tullk. It was part of their reputation: they’ll tear your throat out in a second, but they sure do love their adopted children.

Kraglin had been scared out of his wits when he first met Stakar and Aleta. They were confident and strong leaders of the Ravagers; nothing frightened them. Kraglin, at that time, was just a little Xandarian orphan, skinny enough to break if you squeezed him too tight. He had felt like an ant in a room full of bears. 

Slowly, that feeling faded. He stopped flinching every time Stakar spoke. He allowed Aleta to spar with him in order to teach him how to fight. Eventually, he even got close with Martinex, although the Plutonian was too weird to handle in anything but small doses. Things had been good back then, especially when Kraglin was sworn in as a Ravager.

Then, one day, he and Yondu were on a duo mission. It was supposed to be a quick, quiet mission; the Kree weren’t supposed to notice anything was wrong until Yondu and Kraglin were far away from the planet. If there were any traces, any at all, of Ravagers, they would have a full fledged war on their hands. No one wanted that, especially with the low numbers that the Ravagers were working with.

Things went smoothly until a kid with dreadlocks and a blaster leapt out of the bushes. He had blood stained on his face and hands and a crazed look of fear in his eyes as he told them to lay down all their weapons. His eyes had been focused on the food they were cooking when Yondu knocked the blaster out of his hands and whispered a few things in his ear. They had a conversation that Kraglin was careful not to hear before Yondu was introducing the boy, named Tullk, as a new member of Yondu Udonta’s 99th Ravager Clan.

Tullk was just how Kraglin had been: scared of anything that moved. He refused to talk about his past, but, despite that, he and Kraglin still warmed up to one another. After just two months, they were inseparable. 

Kraglin snapped back to reality when he ran into a small force running in his direction. He threw his hands out and caught the kid before he fell, seeing that it was a little Terran boy.

"Sorry about that!" the boy cried, looking up at Kraglin. Usually, Terran children screamed and ran away from Offworlders, but not this boy. No, he just grinned a gap toothed smile and spoke again. "I like your tattoos."

Kraglin couldn't help but smile a little himself. He always adored children. "Thank ya, kid. What're ya doin' out here all 'lone? Where's your mama?" 

The boy shrugged, pointing back at the bar. Kraglin's stomach churned with unease. "She's workin' right now, mister. I was chasin' that frog," he pointed behind the first mate to a little frog sitting on a fence. It lashed its tongue out to catch a fly. "I'm Peter, by the way. I've never met ya before."

“I’m Kraglin. I’m… new,” he said. He wasn’t sure how young Terrans started to learn about the war between the Kree and Terra, but this Peter kid didn’t seem afraid of him in the slightest. Even if Kraglin was Terran, shouldn’t he still be nervous around someone he doesn’t know? If not, surely Terran mothers knew better than to let their children from their sight. “Why don’t we go on back to your mama, kid. Don’t want her to go into a panic lookin’ for ya when you’re right nearby.”

Plus, Kraglin didn’t like the look of some of the fellows he had seen while scoping out the town. It may have been a quaint little place, but it was nowhere near innocent. He’d be damned if he’d let some little kid go through what he went through by becoming an orphan or getting kidnapped. No one should have to go through that.

Peter nodded and looked over at the frog again. When Kraglin looked back, he saw that the creature was hopping off again down the street. “I hope the frog will be okay.”

Kraglin sighed and gently put a hand on Peter’s back. Terran children are so naive, so innocent. Even Xandarian children knew not to get helplessly attached to small wild animals. “I’m sure he will, Peter,” he lied. “Now, let’s go meet your mama.”

Yondu needed a drink.

The hangover had only lessened a bit since he woke up. He took a cold shower and chugged whatever water Kraglin left behind, but nothing seemed to help. Eating was off the table with how low their rations were; alcohol appeared to be his last option.

Nowadays, it seemed to be his only option.

So, while Tullk went out to find some food that would last them a while, Yondu found his way back to the same saloon he drank in the night before. The back of his mind itched with a memory, but he quickly closed the door on that before it was able to take over. He didn’t need any more pesky thoughts about strange Terran women; he had enough on his plate as it was.

Still, he rubbed his sore nose and smirked.

When out and about, Yondu often wore his long Ravager coat to cover as much skin as possible. He had learned, after a few months on Terra, that wide-brimmed hats were in style, so he got one of those and made sure it was always tipped down to cover his eyes and face. On top of all that, he wore a thin piece of fabric over his mouth and nose. It was the perfect combination to make sure that he was never noticed unless he wanted to be.

Still, some people just knew. It was like they could smell the Offworlder-ness on him. They often gave him and his horse -a beautiful black mare named Eclector- a wide berth and whispered under their breath. They mumbled and grumbled about ‘Offworlders in our decent town’ but Yondu never paid them any mind. He knew that without him and his men, their decent town wouldn’t even exist in the first place. That was all he needed to ignore the stares and whispers.

Instead, Yondu focused on the architecture of the town. How everything was built would tell him a lot about what went on in these parts, and whether or not he and his boys would be staying (he may have been a raging asshole, but he’d never intentionally put Tullk and Kraglin in a situation they didn’t expect). This town, when looked at for long enough, seemed to be just as good as it first appeared. There was no obvious, or hidden, graffiti; the paint wasn’t chipped; the wood wasn’t rotting away. The people wore nice clothes, even if they were a little on the cheap side. Carriages and wagons rolled down nicely made streets with very few beggars polluting the sidewalks. So far, St. Charles passed the test.

Yondu hopped off his horse once he arrived at the saloon and tied him up, only pausing once he heard a muffled fight. It was a sound he was unfortunately familiar with after living on Stakar’s ship for so long. After a moment, he smirked, thinking that he would get some good entertainment while he drank; nothing was better than pissed off Terrans having a slapfight.

However, when he pushed in the door, what was there was the last sight he expected to see.

Kraglin was standing in the middle of the bar, looking like the poster boy for the Ravagers with a blaster in each hand and his metal teeth bared in a snarl. Surrounding him were five Terran men, all much bigger than the scrawny teenager, wielding small, probably useless, six shooters. Meredith Quill stood behind the bar, clutching a young boy to her chest. Her hand was over his eyes while her’s were trained on the five men, her mouth opened as profanities spilled from her lips. They were dark enough to make even a sailor blush, but the men didn’t move. They kept their guns trained on Kraglin.

A low, warbling whistle filled the saloon. It was a noise unfamiliar to everyone there, but it still made their blood run cold. They had heard of the Offworlder who controlled a magic arrow with a whistle.

One of the men gasped and dropped his gun as a golden arrow pressed against his throat. Yondu stepped out of the shadows, lifting his head so they could see his glowing red eyes under his hat. The other men froze.

"Shit," one breathed, looking like he just shit himself. Yondu smirked and tugged his mask down to his neck; oh how he loved how sensitive Terrans were.

"Kraglin, mind explainin' what's goin' on?" Yondu asked, slowly stalking towards the men. He was a lion, and the Terrans were his prey, just waiting for him to pounce. 

Kraglin's eyes darted around the saloon, trying to read whether or not these men planned on shooting. Once he was positive he wouldn't be eating Terran lead as his last meal, he spoke. "I brought home that lil runt over there so that his mama wouldn't have to worry about losin' him. These fellas here drew on me, thinkin' I kidnapped the kid."

"Seems like somethin' an Offworlder would do-"

"Shut the hell up," Yondu barked. His arrow soared through the air and pierced a hole in the man's shoulder before returning to its previous position. He turned to look at the boy, and then Meredith. "Do ya think Kraglin took your boy?" he asked, ignoring the howl of pain the man let out.

"No," Meredith said, obviously frazzled. She covered Peter’s eyes and ears to hide him from the scene. "If he took Peter, why the hell would he bring him back??"

Another man -a large, pot-bellied fellow- winced. "Peter's a handful, ma'am," he reminded. The look Meredith shot him was probably more terrifying than Yondu's arrow. "Respectfully, of course. I love him."

Yondu scoffed and whistled his arrow back to his side. "Get all your Terran asses out before I wash the walls in your blood," he warned scathingly, turning to glare at them all. One look each had them tripping over each other to get out of the bar.

With a sharp whistle, the arrow returned to Yondu's side. Kraglin's gun clicked as it was returned to its holster. They shared a look: Yondu silently asking if Kraglin was okay and Kraglin silently promising that he was.

"Holy shit," Meredith whispered after a moment. "You have a flyin' arrow."

"Goes wherever I want it too, darlin'," Yondu agreed. For once, Meredith looked… hesitant. Afraid wasn't the right word to describe the look on her face.

Silence reigned over them for a moment as everyone processed what just happened. Meredith could've been confused for a statue if it weren't for her eyes blinking occasionally.

"Thank ya for bringing me home, Mister Kraglin," Peter called out, looking up at the teenager. He hadn’t seen anything other than a brief glimpse of Yondu’s arrow.

Kraglin simply nodded. "Of course," he said, glancing at the captain to make sure he wasn't in trouble. Yondu gave an inconspicuous nod of approval. "Can't have a lil Terran fella like yourself runnin' 'round unsupervised- not that you're not supervisin' your kid, ma'am-!"

Meredith chuckled and held out her hand for him to stop. "I'm still processin' this whole ordeal, sweetheart. I'm glad ya brought him back," she said. Kraglin nodded awkwardly before being dragged away by Peter to play some Terran game called ‘Jacks’. Yondu didn’t bother saying anything about it; Kraglin deserved some free time, no matter how he chose to spend it.

"I hope I didn't scare ya too much, darlin'. I'm still lookin' for a drink," Yondu said, grinning as he plopped down on a barstool. Meredith's face had flushed a pretty shade of pink as she still just stared at him. When she didn't respond for a moment, Yondu hopped over the bar to get the drink himself.

"Shit, sorry. I’m just… you have a flyin’ arrow," Meredith repeated, walking over to the bar and sitting down in the stool he had previously occupied. Yondu shrugged slightly before blowing into two glasses and setting them on the bar counter. Meredith held out her hand again. "I can't drink; it's not even noon yet."

"Is that a rule?" Yondu questioned, grabbing a bottle of whiskey. After last night, it quickly became his favorite Terran drink. He poured an even amount in both glasses. "It's a damn stupid one. Ya need a drink."

Meredith sat down and stared at the full glass of whiskey. After a moment of contemplation, she took a drink.

"Atta girl," Yondu smirked, leaning on the bar and sipping his own whiskey. "Too bad ya left 'fore I got in the bar yesterday. I could'a done with gettin' to know ya."

Meredith narrowed her eyes. "What makes ya think I'd talk to ya?"

Yondu shrugged. "My hypnotizin’ good looks," he said without missing a beat. Meredith snorted, a very unladylike gesture that Yondu somehow still found adorable. What the hell was wrong with him? Terrans weren’t supposed to be attractive; they’re a weak backwater species that still gets plagues every hundred or so years. What was so different about her?

He realized that the silence had lasted too long and chuckled, swirling his drink. "Ya know, it can't be a coincidence that we met last night and this mornin' my first mate found your boy. That, sugar, is what I call fate."

Meredith rolled her eyes. "Is that an Offworlder belief?"

"Nah, that's a hard, universal fact. Fate is real," he replied with a smirk. Meredith scoffed. "Scoff all ya want, ya know it's true."

“Sure,” she muttered. Yondu took the time to refill his now empty glass with whiskey. “Might want to slow down there, cowboy. I like whiskey too, but ya keep goin’ at that rate and ya won’t make it back to your hotel.”

Yondu smirked. “Ya plan on takin’ me home, sugar?” he asked. Meredith blushed and glared hard at him. “Terran whiskey don’t bother me as much as it bothers y’all. I finished two of these bottles last night and I still remember everythin’, includin’ a lil situation with a door-”

“I apologized for that,” Meredith interrupted, crossing her arms over the counter and straightening her back. Yondu tried to figure out why he found that position attractive when she wasn’t even trying to seduce him. “Besides, ya can’t even see the bruise under that hat and mask when ya got ‘em on.”

“It’s just a precaution, darlin’. Didn’t know that hidin’ my face made ya so upset,” he teased, once again getting that hilarious roll of her eyes. “Ya know-”

He was interrupted by Tullk unceremoniously swinging open the door. His shirt was only half buttoned and Yondu was pretty sure that his belt was upside down. “Damn, I thought you lot left me!” he said, walking into the bar. Yondu gave him a look. “You’ve done it before. The only reason I checked here was because I saw Eclector out there.”

“I left ya on purpose, dipshit. When have I ever left ya on accident?” Yondu asked, dropping his hat down on the counter. Tullk huffed, but was quickly distracted by Kraglin calling him over to the interesting little game that he and Peter were now invested in.

“Are they your sons?” Meredith asked, turning over her shoulder to glance at Kraglin and Tullk.

Yondu, shocked by the question, quickly shook his head. “No, nah, not at all. Kraglin’s my first mate and Tullk’s my third in command.”

“They’re so young,” she said, almost distracted. “Do Offworlders become Ravagers that young?”

“The orphans do,” Yondu responded coldly. His eyes focused on his little crew playing with the child, silently reminding himself that Kraglin and Tullk weren’t even 18 yet. Still, they were the best damn crew he could’ve ever asked for. “I gotta go, darlin’. Watch my drink for me.”

“Was it somethin’ I said?”

Yondu turned his eyes back to Meredith’s and saw that concerned look that he had seen the night before, when she hit him with the door. Through all the sting, there was that honey. “No,” he responded quickly. “Watch my drink, I’ll be back for it,” he added, forcing himself to hop over the bar again. He whistled a sharp tune and Kraglin looked up, immediately understanding the silent cue before being reabsorbed in the child’s game.

Yondu didn’t let himself look back as he stepped out of the bar. If he had, he would’ve seen Meredith’s eyes trailing after him, and he knew that he wouldn’t have been able to just leave. That Terran had her hooks in him; he just needed to find a way to shake himself free.