Any Kind Of Attention

Summary: After disobeying Yondu’s instructions, Peter gets ill
Warning(s): Spanking; spoilers for Guardians of the Galaxy; AU; references to a character being sick

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“Why did ya go to that planet I told yer not to, kid?”

Peter groaned and slanted a look at Yondu from out of lowered eyelashes. Narrowing his eyes didn’t do a whole lot of good; he could still see three images of his father, all looking at him with identical stares of disapproval, which he was used to, and worry…which made his stomach twist and turn inside.

At least he wasn’t seeing four of everything now. That had to be a good thing. Right?

“Kid.”

Peter focused on Yondu’s face…the middle Yondu, for want of figuring out which of the three was his actual father. “Can’t you scold me later?” he asked plaintively. “I don’t feel so good.” His stomach roiled and his head pounded and he squeezed his eyes closed, trying not to be sick.

A cool hand rested against his forehead, feeling wonderful against his heated skin, and Peter couldn’t help but lean into the touch. Then, he felt a flask against his lips and turned his head away stubbornly. “No. Don’t wanna have medicine.”

“It’ll make ya feel better, Petey,” Kraglin’s voice said.

“Don’t want it.” Peter really had no idea why he was refusing to take the medicine. His head was pounding worse than the last time he’d had a hangover and his mouth felt dry. His head was all fuzzy. And he just wanted to close his eyes and go to sleep and not get scolded because he’d decided to ignore Yondu’s warnings and go down to the planet his father had warned him not to go to.

But how was he supposed to know that going to the planet would make him sick? Yondu hadn’t told him that. Only that he wasn’t allowed to go.

Another hand rested on Peter’s shoulder, squeezing gently, the strength in the grip making it clear that it was his father holding him now. “Take the medicine, kid.” And the flask was against his lips once more.

Scrunching his eyes tighter closed, Peter turned his head away, starting to shake his head before the way it swam made him whimper. “I don’t wanna,” he muttered, fully aware there was a pout on his face and finding that he really didn’t care.

“I ain’t gonna argue with ya, kid.” Yondu’s voice carried more than a hint of warning. “Take the medicine. Or else.”

“I’m sick.” Well, that was what Peter tried to say. He was too busy keeping his lips clamped shut and his teeth clenched together to speak properly. But at least his father and brother would understand he didn’t want it.

“Being sick ain’t gonna stop me from tanning yer ass, kid.” Yondu’s voice carried a heavy note of warning to it.

Peter’s mouth and eyes flew open and he glared accusingly at his father. “You can’t spank me, daddy!” he protested, pouting full on once more. “I’m sick.”

“Not too sick to refuse to take the medication.” Yondu stroked his fingers through Peter’s hair. “It’ll help ya feel better. Yer feeling dizzy and sick right now, ain’t ya?”

Swallowing carefully, because he was worried he might lose control over his own body, Peter nodded carefully. Then whimpered when it caused the dizziness to get worse. “Medicine tastes horrible,” he muttered. He fixed a pleading glance on Yondu, relaxing a little when he realised there were only two images of his father.

It was getting better. Surely it had to be getting better? He was still feeling dizzy and like his head was going to fall off his shoulders, though. “Can I have some sweets afterwards?” he asked plaintively. He would have asked for alcohol, but was pretty sure his father and brother would immediately veto that.

“Yeah, Petey,” Kraglin replied. “I’m sure I can find some sweets for ya. Don’t look,” he added, his tone mildly warning.

Peter felt the bunk he was laying on shift slightly when Kraglin got up, but he didn’t turn to watch where his brother was going. Instead, after one last pleading look at his father, he reluctantly opened his mouth so that Yondu could give him the medicine, allowing his father to prop an arm behind his head to raise it enough so he didn’t choke as he drank the medicine.

It tasted just as foul as he’d expected it to and he let out a low whine, looking at Yondu. “Tastes bad.” He pouted.

But at least there was only one of his father sitting on his bunk now.

“Here, Petey.” The bunk dipped slightly and Kraglin was pressing a thick, greasy slab into his hands.

“You got chocolate.” Cheering up, Peter immediately stuffed the chocolate into his mouth, chewing it and swallowing with a contented smile. “When did you pick it up?” he asked. “And can I have some more?”

“Some inventions from Terra have made their way across the galaxy,” Kraglin said. “But I don’t know when I’ll be able to pick up some more, so I’ll ration it for now.” He patted Peter’s knee and then stood up. “I’ll leave ya to talk ta Yondu.”

Peter quickly shot his hand out and grabbed Kraglin’s, looking pleadingly up at the Ravager he considered his brother. “You don’t need to leave now,” he protested. “You can stay. We can talk.”

“We ain’t gonna be talking a whole lot, kid.” Yondu rested a heavy hand on Peter’s shoulder and squeezed it lightly. “Ya don’t want your brother to witness ya getting yer ass blistered. Do you?”

Peter pouted, but released Kraglin and glanced away as his brother slanted a sympathetic look at him. He waited until the Ravager had exited the bunk before muttering, “I really don’t think I should be getting spanked as well. I already got sick.”

“Yer not gonna get spanked for getting spanked, kid, but fer going to that planet when I told ya not ta.” As he spoke, Yondu settled more comfortably on the bed and reached out, grasping Peter’s upper arms and pulling him across his lap.

Peter landed with a whoosh of air from his lungs and immediately whined, “Dad, no! It’s not necessary! I’ve learned my lesson from getting sick! I promise.”

“I’m gonna make sure of that.”

Peter let out an indignant yelp and felt his face burn when Yondu tugged his pants and underwear down, baring his backside. He began to squirm ineffectively across his father’s lap. “You don’t need to do this!” he protested.

“Ya went down to that planet I told ya not ta go to.” With the last word, Yondu delivered a hard smack to Peter’s right cheek, then a matching one on the opposite side.

Peter yelped and immediately threw his hand back to cover his backside, whining, “Dad, stop!”

Yondu merely caught his hand and expertly pinned it against the small of his back before he resumed the smacks, covering every inch down to his thighs, which caused Peter to kick his legs.

And then his father started over from the top, covering skin he’d already smacked with the stinging swats.

Peter began to squirm, wriggling, though it did him little good. Tears sprang to his eyes and he burst out, “I didn’t mean to!”

“Ya knew ya was disobeying me when ya went down to that planet,” Yondu said. “Ya did mean ta do it. Don’t lie.”

The tears began to run down Peter’s cheeks as he wriggled a bit more. “I’m sorry!” He let out a sob that was then followed by more, slumping over his father’s lap, his temporary illness having tired him out. And now his throat ached and his head throbbed.

Yondu stopped spanking and the next thing Peter knew, he was gathered in his father’s arms, on his lap. Burrowing close to Yondu and wrapping his arms tightly around his father, sniffling out, “I’m sorry.”

“Ya won’t do it again?”

Peter shook his head and then let it drop against Yondu’s shoulder. He sat cuddled for a few moments before asking, in a subdued voice, “Are you gonna ground me now?”

“Really should do. Not this time, but if there’s a next time, kid….” Yondu left the warning unsaid and instead hugged Peter that bit tighter. “No more going against my orders.”

“Okay.” Peter snuggled in close, deciding not to tell Yondu the truth; that he’d really wanted his father’s attention. He had it now. And as long as he kept the attention, he’d do as he was told.

But if Yondu turned his attention elsewhere again, all bets were off.

The End