Until the end of the week – or until my father deploys me elsewhere, if I decide to stay longer. He has nothing lined up that will bring me back to New York immediately.
'Bout five months back, member of my team didn't like how things were bein' run.
[ Yondu's gaze flits to Peter, daring him to respond. For his part, Peter only offers a bland look that seems to say, What a surprise. ]
Thought we could stand to do things a little more ruthlessly, not unlike how your father likes to run things. So Taserface broke off, decided to start his own little gang. He and his new friends call themselves Overkill, and they've been encroachin' on my territory.
[ Peter snorts out a laugh. ] Seriously? You couldn't keep a grip on Taserface?
[ Once again, Yondu ignores Peter. ]
I'd like for them to be knocked down a few pegs. Steal their goods or destroy it all, I ain't picky on which. Good as my guys are, I'd rather send in someone unaffiliated, on the off-chance of them gettin' caught.
[ Yondu leans back again, one elbow resting on the back of the couch. ]
Seein' as how Mr. Quill has been so helpful so far, once I get more details, I can send it along to him.
[ ... Taserface. Of course the guy’s name is Taserface.
But as far as requests Yondu could have made, this sounds perfectly reasonable. She needs to do it soon (as soon as her recovery will allow), but...
This might be her way out. The idea almost leaves her breathless. ]
Consider it done.
[ That just leaves... ]
And I assume you’ll pass along necessary contact information for my needs.
[ She also assumes Yondu will ensure Gamora can’t get her hands on what she needs until she’s finished his “favor,” but just knowing it’s in the works, that a clean escape is a feasible reality, is enough for her. ]
You come see me once the work is done, and I'll have what you want. You don't get nothin' sooner than that.
[ Yondu flashes her another sharp smile. ]
I'm lookin' forward to doin' business with you, Ms. Gamora.
And Quill? [ His gaze slides to Peter again. ] After this business is done, I don't see you again unless you're grovelin' on your hands and knees. I figure that comes easy to you, these days, considerin' how often you're goin' down for a handful of bucks.
[ Peter bristles, but considering the tenuous truce they've reached, he keeps his responses to himself. ]
Good. Now, so long as we're all in agreement, Ms. Gamora, if you could get this sorry bastard out of my goddamn club, I'd deeply appreciate it. If I spend one more second looking at that ugly mug, I may fly into a blind rage.
[ Yondu whistles sharply, and the other Ravagers move aside, letting the two of them pass. Kraglin offers them both a nod, apparently standing down as well. ]
[ That’s good enough for Gamora. Her eyes narrow as Yondu snaps at Peter, but like Peter, she keeps her mouth shut. As they’ve been dismissed, Gamora gives Yondu a polite nod, then turns on her heel to head for the stairs again. Her fingers brush over the back of Peter’s hand, before she takes the lead back downstairs and to the exit of the club.
Her side is throbbing angrily by now, and the threat of lightheadedness looms on the periphery of her awareness, but she’s determined to get back to the car. At least, that’s the case until she steps out into the chilly LA night, and all of the tension she’d been determinedly holding in her frame starts to go lax. Her pace slows, and some of the rigid set in her shoulders fades away.
[ Peter is seething as they leave, cheeks red with embarrassment and anger. He ignores the jeering looks his old teammates cast them as they make their way out, keeping his gaze focused on the exit.
He only relaxes once the door swings shut behind them. The bouncer glances at them, indifferent, before returning to the bright screen of his phone.
Furious as he is, he still notices the way Gamora slows – not quite swaying, but something close – and he carefully wraps an arm around her waist, his other hand taking hold of her elbow to help support her. ]
[ He lifts his head, taking a wary glance around. Part of him expects one of his old teammates to follow them out. He never did get along with most of them. He expects a small part of that was jealousy, considering he could run circles around them on a job.
He also expects a small part of that was and is because he has the capacity to be a complete asshole.
For now, they're mostly alone on the street, save for the uninterested doorman. Peter still pitches his voice low, nonetheless. ]
[ It’s not a fun walk, but at least it’s not far. She’s confident she can handle that. To emphasize it, she starts moving forward again, still leaning against Peter. ]
[ ... It's hard to argue with that, since he's right, so all she offers is a disgruntled huff, annoyance, but her head falls against Peter's shoulder. ]
Don't think you're carrying me back to our room.
[ That would be a bad look.
She allows Peter to carry her the final blocks to the car without complaint. She doesn't need help getting into the car or buckling herself in, but as soon as she's settled, she just slumps into the seat, breathing an honest sigh of relief. ]
[ He doesn't buckle her in like a sleeping child – she can at least manage that on her own – and he slips back into the driver's seat.
Heading back up to the hotel is another twenty or so minutes, but Peter lets her rest for the entire trip, depending on the late night radio to fill the silence. Once they're near the hotel, Peter finds the same lot Gamora had parked in earlier, about a block away. The convenience of stopping right at the hotel is greatly outweighed by the inconvenience of a valet seeing the alarming amount of blood staining the car's leather interior.
This time, he lets Gamora walk back under her own power, though he keeps an arm wrapped around her waist. (He wonders, briefly, if he should let her rest an arm around his shoulders, but she's been pointedly avoiding doing so. Maybe because the height difference, but most likely because she wants to avoid looking obviously injured.)
He unlocks the door, admitting them into the bungalow. ]
[ Gamora is grateful for Peter's help (even if it still confuses her), but she's quiet all the way back to the bungalow. Again, after the door closes behind them, more of Gamora's tension and fight sinks right out of her. She's slow-going, carefully shrugs out of her jacket, hanging it over her forearm as she starts reaching behind herself, trying to find the zipper of her dress. ]
I don't think— [ A small wince as she strains to tug at the zipper. ] —I have any obligations tomorrow.
[ Translation: nowhere she might ask Peter to accompany her. ]
[ Once the zipper on Gamora's dress is dealt with, Peter busies himself with shrugging out of his own jacket, unfastening the first couple of buttons on his shirt.
When Gamora glances back at him, hesitant and wary, and when she offers that strange apology, he frowns at her, a little confused. ]
Why are you apologizing? Everything worked out how you wanted it to, didn't it?
[ The insults were different when he was still with them, obviously, and maybe they were less frequent when he was a "respected" member of the gang, but he's used to the shit they slung at him. ]
There's a reason why I quit.
Anyway. The silver lining here is that they didn't beat my ass, and you got what you wanted. Sort of.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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'Cause you promisin' this favor don't do me much good if you're back in New York before I can call it in.
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I suppose we may be able to work out a deal, so long as you've got no qualms about robbin' someone blind.
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None at all.
[ She assumes she won’t be stealing from someone who can’t afford to lose a chunk of change, as opposed to some down-on-their-luck family. ]
What did you have in mind?
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[ Yondu's gaze flits to Peter, daring him to respond. For his part, Peter only offers a bland look that seems to say, What a surprise. ]
Thought we could stand to do things a little more ruthlessly, not unlike how your father likes to run things. So Taserface broke off, decided to start his own little gang. He and his new friends call themselves Overkill, and they've been encroachin' on my territory.
[ Peter snorts out a laugh. ] Seriously? You couldn't keep a grip on Taserface?
[ Once again, Yondu ignores Peter. ]
I'd like for them to be knocked down a few pegs. Steal their goods or destroy it all, I ain't picky on which. Good as my guys are, I'd rather send in someone unaffiliated, on the off-chance of them gettin' caught.
[ Yondu leans back again, one elbow resting on the back of the couch. ]
Seein' as how Mr. Quill has been so helpful so far, once I get more details, I can send it along to him.
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But as far as requests Yondu could have made, this sounds perfectly reasonable. She needs to do it soon (as soon as her recovery will allow), but...
This might be her way out. The idea almost leaves her breathless. ]
Consider it done.
[ That just leaves... ]
And I assume you’ll pass along necessary contact information for my needs.
[ She also assumes Yondu will ensure Gamora can’t get her hands on what she needs until she’s finished his “favor,” but just knowing it’s in the works, that a clean escape is a feasible reality, is enough for her. ]
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[ Yondu flashes her another sharp smile. ]
I'm lookin' forward to doin' business with you, Ms. Gamora.
And Quill? [ His gaze slides to Peter again. ] After this business is done, I don't see you again unless you're grovelin' on your hands and knees. I figure that comes easy to you, these days, considerin' how often you're goin' down for a handful of bucks.
[ Peter bristles, but considering the tenuous truce they've reached, he keeps his responses to himself. ]
Good. Now, so long as we're all in agreement, Ms. Gamora, if you could get this sorry bastard out of my goddamn club, I'd deeply appreciate it. If I spend one more second looking at that ugly mug, I may fly into a blind rage.
[ Yondu whistles sharply, and the other Ravagers move aside, letting the two of them pass. Kraglin offers them both a nod, apparently standing down as well. ]
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Her side is throbbing angrily by now, and the threat of lightheadedness looms on the periphery of her awareness, but she’s determined to get back to the car. At least, that’s the case until she steps out into the chilly LA night, and all of the tension she’d been determinedly holding in her frame starts to go lax. Her pace slows, and some of the rigid set in her shoulders fades away.
She’s exhausted. ]
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He only relaxes once the door swings shut behind them. The bouncer glances at them, indifferent, before returning to the bright screen of his phone.
Furious as he is, he still notices the way Gamora slows – not quite swaying, but something close – and he carefully wraps an arm around her waist, his other hand taking hold of her elbow to help support her. ]
Hey, just relax. Take it easy.
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I’m all right.
[ Not “fine,” because that’s a complete lie. ]
I just want to get back to the hotel.
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[ He lifts his head, taking a wary glance around. Part of him expects one of his old teammates to follow them out. He never did get along with most of them. He expects a small part of that was jealousy, considering he could run circles around them on a job.
He also expects a small part of that was and is because he has the capacity to be a complete asshole.
For now, they're mostly alone on the street, save for the uninterested doorman. Peter still pitches his voice low, nonetheless. ]
You gonna be able to make the walk?
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[ It’s not a fun walk, but at least it’s not far. She’s confident she can handle that. To emphasize it, she starts moving forward again, still leaning against Peter. ]
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Maybe you shouldn't strain yourself. I can bring the car around, if you want.
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I can manage, Peter. I'll rest when we get back to the room.
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[ Peter takes one more careful glance around before letting out a breath.
Then, with a quick warning— ]
Hang on.
[ He carefully scoops her up, one arm beneath the backs of her knees, the other around her back. ]
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[ But she doesn't try to jerk away from him before he's scooping her up.
(It strains her body less than just trying to keep walking to the car, at least.)
Her weight rests against his chest, her fingers coming up to curl in his rumpled shirt. ]
I said I can manage.
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[ And thanks to years with Yondu's gang and his time more recently in his current job, he's used to dealing with a certain amount of bravado.
He adjusts briefly before setting off toward the car. ]
Just 'cause you can manage doesn't mean you should. And you've already been on your feet for way longer than you should've been.
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Don't think you're carrying me back to our room.
[ That would be a bad look.
She allows Peter to carry her the final blocks to the car without complaint. She doesn't need help getting into the car or buckling herself in, but as soon as she's settled, she just slumps into the seat, breathing an honest sigh of relief. ]
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Heading back up to the hotel is another twenty or so minutes, but Peter lets her rest for the entire trip, depending on the late night radio to fill the silence. Once they're near the hotel, Peter finds the same lot Gamora had parked in earlier, about a block away. The convenience of stopping right at the hotel is greatly outweighed by the inconvenience of a valet seeing the alarming amount of blood staining the car's leather interior.
This time, he lets Gamora walk back under her own power, though he keeps an arm wrapped around her waist. (He wonders, briefly, if he should let her rest an arm around his shoulders, but she's been pointedly avoiding doing so. Maybe because the height difference, but most likely because she wants to avoid looking obviously injured.)
He unlocks the door, admitting them into the bungalow. ]
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I don't think— [ A small wince as she strains to tug at the zipper. ] —I have any obligations tomorrow.
[ Translation: nowhere she might ask Peter to accompany her. ]
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[ Peter steps forward, reaching for the zipper with a quiet, I got it. ]
Gives you a chance to finally get some rest.
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We'll see.
[ But she hopes that will be the case.
She lets her sleeves drift down her shoulders, and she glances back at Peter, a little more cautious. ]
... I'm sorry. For what happened at the Arrow.
[ Apologies are rare from Gamora, almost unheard of, but their excursion at that club...
That was awful. ]
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When Gamora glances back at him, hesitant and wary, and when she offers that strange apology, he frowns at her, a little confused. ]
Why are you apologizing? Everything worked out how you wanted it to, didn't it?
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[ He'd gone— so far out of his way for her. He's still doing it, and she doesn't— understand why. It still doesn't make sense to her, but here he is.
She keeps walking into the main room, dropping her jacket over a chair. ]
The way they treated you...
[ She shakes her head, her lips pursed in a thin line without looking back again at Peter. ]
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[ The insults were different when he was still with them, obviously, and maybe they were less frequent when he was a "respected" member of the gang, but he's used to the shit they slung at him. ]
There's a reason why I quit.
Anyway. The silver lining here is that they didn't beat my ass, and you got what you wanted. Sort of.
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