Apr. 26th, 2015 11:49 am
glorious_spoon: (frisky women)
[personal profile] glorious_spoon
Title: Apprentice
Fandom: Guardians of the Galaxy
Rating: G
Summary: How to get adopted by a band of space pirates.

The kid takes to hiding in the air vents after the first few days, after they’ve checked him out for Terran diseases and Yondu finally gives the okay to release him from the isolation cell. He hasn’t actually given much thought to where they’re gonna store him while they’re en route to the drop point, living cargo not being a major part of Ravager business, so on the one hand, he’s grateful to have the problem taken off his plate, so to speak.

On the other hand, sometimes his mechanics need to actually work on the vents, and the kid has managed to acquire a knife from fuck-knows-where. After he slices off two of the junior engineer’s fingers for reaching for a control panel, Yondu figures that the situation has gone on long enough.

“Hey, kid, you wanna come outta there?” he calls, in the friendliest voice he can manage.

“No.” All he can see is a pair of large, frightened eyes and the glint of a knife in the darkness. The kid’s wedged himself a good four meters back, well out of reach of their largest man, and they got nobody who can actually fit in the vents to go after him.

“How come?”

“He said he was gonna eat me.”

“Who did?” Yondu glances at the junior engineer, who is still wibbling over his bandage-wrapped hand. New hire. It looks like he might turn out to be a disappointment. “Him?”

A quick, jerky nod.

Definitely a disappointment. “Son,” Yondu says, “let me tell you something. We was contracted to deliver you, and that makes you a payday. I don’t let nobody go around eating my payday, you understand?”

Another nod.

“Good. Now why don’t you come on outta there?” The kid creeps closer, close enough that Yondu can see a grubby, tearstained face, pale in the darkness. He’s still wearing the flimsy Terran headset that was in his bag when they grabbed him. “Good,” Yondu says, as the kid inches forward again. “Good boy.”

The kid moves forward again, and Yondu figures that’s enough; he reaches in, fingers outstretched to grab a skinny arm.

That proves to be a mistake. The knife flashes; he jerks his hand back, but not fast enough to avoid the sting across his palm. He curses, and the kid darts back into the darkness.

They don’t see hide nor hair of him for three more weeks. After a day, it occurs to Yondu that the little Terran probably needs to eat at some point if they still want him to be alive when they make the drop. He ain’t risking his fingers a second time, though, so he waits until the dog watch to leave a bottle of water and a stack of sticky ration bars just inside the vent opening. The next morning, they’re gone, which at least means that the kid hasn’t managed to kill himself in the machinery yet.

So that’s how they do it, for a time--Yondu leaves food and it disappears. Eventually, the kid emerges into the common areas. He keeps his back to the wall, which is smart, and keeps his knife where everyone can see it, which is smarter. The grubby backpack is nowhere to be seen, and Yondu has to figure that it’s hid back in some little hole where nobody but the kid will fit.

Kid’s got the makings of a mighty fine Ravager, all told, and he’s young enough to follow orders for a while yet. And anyway, the drop point is a couple hundred light-years out of their way and the payday weren’t anything to write home to Ma about. He can always change his mind later, if the brat proves to be too much of a pain.

He doesn’t.

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