Which I Loved For Various Reasons - Tumblr Posts
Okay, a bunch of random headcanons for Peter and the Ravagers (trying to) celebrate Christmas:
The main reason why the Ravagers even try to go out of their way to set that whole Christmas-y thing up is because it got described to them as a feast. And feast means booze. A feast that also has the tradition of getting them the expensive stuff they wished for without having to steal it for themselves, but rather have others of the crew steal it for them, is a big plus, too.
(Reason number two, although nobody really admits it, is because Peter pestered them with it since he found a calendar in what was, like, late October. Kid kept telling them stories about Christmas since then, dropping hints or flat out pointing towards it in every single conversation since then, and while none of them would admit they want to see the boy’s face when he sees what they had come up with, they all can agree they hope Peter will get of their backs afterwards.)
Some of the traditions get mixed up or lost or interpreted in a completely different way.
The Ravagers don’t really understand why they should sing songs they don’t understand, or why they should wrap presents in expensive and colorful paper when they can clearly just wrap a rag around it and be done with it. But they did get that there’s a tree involved and that it’s kinda important, so they think they can at least do that. The little problem - Peter neglected to mention what kind of tree, so they are left wondering. They scratch the idea of getting one giant tree – over twenty feet tall – and also don’t’ think Peter will be satisfied with a bush or something, so they go for a tree that’s around the height of a grown man.
(Peter, unexplainably for them, will burst out laughing when he understands that they got a leaf tree in it’s wintery, dead state, throwing colorful (mostly red) cloth and scarfs over it to decorate it, instead of a “real” Christmas tree. He doesn’t blame them, though, swallows his laughter even when they look fairly disappointed by his reaction to their trouble.)
The one tradition that also seems of importance is the whole Santa Clause thing, they conclude while they prepare. Peter used to tell stories about that bearded old man with bright eyes and smiling, excitedly explaining how Santa would bring all children their presents – even though that roused many questions amongst the Ravagers. “Why would ‘e do that?” – “Yeah, why not keep it to ‘imself?” only a very few of them. Some of them declared Santa as downright stupid and not really Ravager-material, but Peter insisted it was “one of the really important things about Christmas!”
So, naturally, they decide that there’s gotta be a Santa on this Ravager-Christmas. Bearded, fat, with a hat and all that.
It takes about twenty minutes of arguing, one sly comment of Tullk, Oblo’s and Kraglin’s combined strength and some very good reflexes, but they finally manage to wrangle a very unhappy and murderous Horuz into a self-made Santa-costume consisting of some extra cleaned Ravager jackets decorated with some (almost) white fur, a self-made, a dangerously slanting self-made hat on top of it all.
“Ain’t ye lookin’ real pretty today Horuz!”
“’M gonna kill the whole lot of y’all one day.”
“We’re gonna pay ye an extra drink, stop complainin’.”
Yondu somehow managed to steer clear of most of the preparations, liking to pretend that absolutely nothing of this is happening. Can’t be that vile, heartless Ravagers prepare a feast for a kid, right, booze or not. (Part of him, a really tiny, quiet part that he likes to snuff out, points out that he also didn’t like the reminder of celebrating with family, when he, well, didn’t have that said family anymore.)
But even he can’t ignore when the crew starts dragging the tree down the hallways of the ship – stumbling over each other, knocking more than one thing down on the way – or the fact that Peter somehow always ends up in front of his cabin to ask what is going on, why everyone is avoiding the little Terran and not telling him anything. So Yondu locks a protesting Peter in his cabin and trudges off to catch one of the idjits responsible for this mess.
“Boys!”
“Capt’n?” Kraglin asks, all wide-eyed surprise even though he is currently sitting on Oblo’s shoulders, balancing up there while he tries to attach what looks like colorful scarfs and rags sewn together to the ceiling.
Yondu almost face-palms over their clear enthusiasm for all of this, but decides that even that is a waste of energy.
“One of ya jackasses can grab Quill n’ get ‘im off the ship before ‘e stumbles over y’all preparin’ that shit.”
The surprised and perplexed gazes he gets for that makes him wonder how the actual heck the men had even tried to keep it a secret from Peter up until now.
When it’s finally time and they have prepared everything – quite well, they think, quite well – and they let Peter into the mess hall, most of them think it was all worth the trouble. Worth it since Peter is beaming brighter than any of the tiny lanterns Oblo had set up, since he’s laughing tears when he catches sight of Horuz dressed as Santa, worth it since the boy races multiple times around the (not quite right) Christmas tree and cheers over how amazing this all is.
If anyone asks them, though, it’s worth it mostly because there is plenty of booze flowing that night.
Peter is more than happy with the spoils of that evening – fingerless gloves from Tullk, a tiny knife from Kraglin, a set of lock picking tools from Oblo (that the man will probably come to regret) – so happy, in fact, that he decides to be extra generous that evening.
(It’s not like he thought about the gift for over a month, and went through quite some trouble for it. All of that can be ignored. It’s just because he is having a great time.)
So when Yondu grumbles and shoves at him when the boy clambers on the Captain’s chair and on the Centaurian’s lap from there, then Peter doesn’t even complain, just slips right back off, just his head poking out from under the arm rest carefully.
Yondu actually seems to hesitate over the child’s lack of resistance, hand half-hovering between shoving again and reaching for his half-empty bottle instead. Behind them, the party is still going, loud and rude and with drinks for days, but between boy and man, there is some sort of careful, fragile peace and quiet for once.
Finally, Yondu gives in. “What is it, Quill.”
Peter grins, getting the hint, and rustles around for a second before quickly pushing a lumpy, clumsily wrapped package onto the Ravager’s lap. “Merry fucking Christmas, old man.”
It’s too quick and Yondu too dumbfounded (drunk, he will later say) and Peter has dashed off to safety before Yondu can find his voice again to snarl at him, or worse, laugh and throw the present back at him.
It’s a good thing he couldn’t, Yondu decides when he unwraps the thing far more carefully than he wants to admit and finds a fine, expensive scarf in it (together with a note that makes him bare his teeth in a crooked grin because that boy got some nerve.) Would have been a waste to throw around something nice like this.
(And if Peter finds a set of new, child-sized blasters next to his bunk when he wakes up late the next morning, his excited happy yelling waking a hungover crew much to their disgruntlement, then Yondu really doesn’t know anything about where those came from. Nope. Go ask Santa, Quill.)