because of reasons

8

Q: Can we talk baby goats and how that completely blew up?  How everyone loves you holding baby goats in the show?

Travis Fimmel: Oh, did they really?  Oh, that’s funny.  I don’t know if I’ve held a goat.  I held a lamb one time, it was a lamb.  I dunno, I just walked past and I grabbed one.  I needed something to hold because the two girls sitting next to me weren’t very happy with me.  It got comforting that way.

You know, as much as I am all over fic and fanart about bb!Peter and Yondu, I was thinking about how Peter is canonically 34 according to the movie’s timeline, which means he was actually with the Ravagers for more years as an adult than he was as a kid.

And there are all kinds of interesting implications for that! The relationship we get between Peter and Yondu (and Peter and the Ravagers in general) at the beginning of the first movie isn’t that of a young adult out in the world for the first time vs. his old mentor/team; they’ve actually had plenty of time to solidify their relationship as adults and fall into certain patterns of behavior. They have been stealing things together and conning people together (and probably conning each other, at times) for years, not just Peter as the teen thief and Yondu as his teacher.

Looking at it from that perspective, I guess the thing that makes the most sense to me based on Peter’s behavior in the first movie is that he’s been off-and-on falling into and out of the Ravagers’ orbit for years at this point. He’s not really with them, so much as he’s not not with them, but he hasn’t quite had That Awkward Conversation with Yondu until he double-crosses them on Morag. “You and me, taking down marks, side by side like the old days” suggests they haven’t really been doing that together in awhile, but he also hasn’t had an actual falling out with the Ravagers to the point of officially parting ways. He’s just kinda been off doing his own thing as the Famous Outlaw Star-Lord.

It also made me think … obviously there are many plausible interpretations of what Peter’s childhood was like, running the gamut from “utterly miserable and abusive” to “lonely, but not that bad” – but thinking about Peter having been an adult with the Ravagers for the last 18 years or so … that’s a really long time! And it suggests that the crew’s general view of Yondu as “soft” on Peter could have a lot more to do with how Yondu treats him as an adult than anything that happened when he was a kid. Things might’ve been reasonably okay when he was small and cute and indulged by pretty much everybody (well, not the real hard cases, and not to say he wouldn’t still have been lonely and scared a lot of the time - but a lot of the pirates might’ve kind of enjoyed having a kid-brother-slash-mascot around), and it was only after Peter started getting older and was no longer small and cute that the resentment started to develop, when he was roughly on the same level with everyone else in the crew but Yondu never really managed to stop noticeably playing favorites with him.

The tl;dr of it is that we’re seeing them at a particular point in their relationship that doesn’t necessarily represent the whole thing. They might actually have been much friendlier at certain points in the past than they are now; they might have gone through (in fact, it makes sense they probably did go through) periods when they were getting along great, and then other times when Peter was even more estranged and working even harder to hold Yondu and the Ravagers at arm’s length than he is at the start of the movie. 20 years of ups and downs, basically.

Seen in that light, too, Peter’s revelation at the end of the second movie that Yondu was effectively his dad all along actually makes even more sense, if they had a decades-long pattern of sometimes being really close, other times fighting viciously and being very far apart, and for Peter the fighting and the harsher aspects of the way Yondu dealt with him tended to loom much larger than the legitimately good times when they were working smoothly together and getting along. And the “click” moment for him at the end of the movie is to turn it around and see all of the good parts as the dominant aspects of the relationship, rather than the fights and his struggle to assert his own independence apart from the Ravagers and his understandable resentment over being effectively press-ganged on board a space pirate ship as an 8-year-old.

anonymous asked:

Hello! It's Detour anon :) So I'm on the 3rd day of my field work and sharing my room with a colleague. I have pretty bad wheezing and my roommate stares at me all the time and is always trying to help me out but I try to let her know that I'm ok. That sort of reminded me of the whole cancer arc and how M and S would have shared a room back then. I know its been done numerous times but I would love your spin on it from either pov or both (this is what happens when you spoil someone rotten)

Tada! It’s done! Thank you sooo much, Detour anon for this prompt. I also used another one I still had in my inbox from who knows when: 19. “I’m fine.” “You don’t look fine.” “Well then stop fucking looking.” So here you go. Cancer arc fic. 

When the receptionist tells Mulder that yes, she has two rooms, but no, they’re not adjoined, and no, they’re not on the same floor, he doesn’t think, he just reacts.

“We’ll take one room, please.” He finds himself saying, nervously looking over his shoulder, checking if Scully is there, catching him. She is not. She is still over in the lobby sitting on the dingy couch, her legs outstretched, her head leaning heavily against the wall. Her eyes are closed, her mouth slightly open; it wouldn’t surprise him if she’s fallen asleep. Mulder hates this. Hates dragging her places, like this one, seeing her do autopsies, working her ass off like this. She keeps telling him that she’s fine of course, and while he believed her at first, wanted so badly to believe, he sees it’s a lie. No amount of make-up can cover up her pale complexion. The exhaustion that follows her around, palpable in every move she makes.

“Here you go, Sir.” The receptionist hands him the room key, jolting him back to his deception. The motel is one of the better ones; he refuses to stay in yet another hellhole just because the FBI is cheap. He’ll pay for the room himself if he has to, because Scully deserves more than a flee-ridden, way too soft mattress and dirty bathrooms. He approaches her slowly, the key dangling from his hand, jingling gently. She does not wake.

“Hey.” His fingers brush her cheek, cool against his touch, and she startles awake.

“’m sorry.” She mumbles stretching, but not getting up just yet. “Did you get the rooms?”

“Room,” he says swallowing his guilt and handing the key over to her, “They only had one room left.” If Scully is on to him, she doesn’t comment on it. She merely nods at him, accepts this fate like any other. She gets up with difficulty, wincing once she’s on her feet. Mulder wants to sweep her up and carry her. Not that she would ever let him, sick or healthy. He lets her lead the way and stays a few steps behind her, giving her space. She tries her best not to let him know, to let him see, in how much pain she is. As much as he loathes it, as much as he wants to tell her to lay it all on him and let him in, the only decent thing he can do is respect her wishes, ignore her pain and his own, and pretend not to see.

“It’s a nice room, at least.” Scully sounds surprised when she enters and she is right; the room is spacious, bright and smells clean.

“Only the best for my partner.”

“Yeah right.” But she chuckles when she says it. Mulder puts down their bags on the queen-size bed and tests the firmness of the mattress. Seems all right, he decides, and hopes that Scully will find some rest here. Right now she looks dead on her feet. As if sensing his thoughts, she turns to him.

“Can I use the bathroom first?” Mulder nods and watches her disappear into the small room, closing the door quietly behind her. Unable to move, he sits there on the bed and listens to the intimate sounds of her nightly routine. There is comfort in these noises he’s heard a thousand times before. It’s as if nothing has changed, as if everything is as it should be. When in reality nothing is. One day, maybe soon, this will be gone. This is not the first time they’re sharing a room, but what if it’s the last? There will come a day when Scully won’t be with him. Not in the same room, not in the same hotel. She’ll be home withering away; barely able to breathe, to hang on to life. Then, one day, she’ll be gone. He swallows hard, tasting tears, tasting guilt. One day is not today. Tonight he’ll keep an eye on her, pray silently to a deity he’s never believed in. He’ll do anything to keep her here, to breathe life back into her until he finds a cure. And he will find one. There is no other way.

When Scully returns a few moments later, she is barefoot and wearing green satin pajamas. Green, the color of hope. She looks cute, but Mulder bites his tongue, not sure she’d appreciate it.

“I can sleep on the floor if you want.” Mulder offers when he sees her glance at the bed. Singular. They might have shared rooms before, but not the bed. He doesn’t plan on sleeping much anyway. All he wants is to be around her.  

“No. No, it’s fine. I was just wondering if you have… a side you prefer.”

“You choose. I usually sleep on a couch, remember?” Scully gets in into the bed and the mattress barely moves. He watches her for a moment like someone might watch a child.

“Stop staring, Mulder.” Scully tells him, her eyes closing already. She’ll be asleep in no time, he realizes. He’s glad.

“I wasn’t staring. I just – is the bed comfortable enough? Do you need another pillow? Another blanket?” One of her eyes pops open, shimmers in an angry blue.

“Mulder, I’m fine.”

“Are you sure because I can-”

“Can you just shut up? I’m fine.” Both eyes are open now as she puts emphasis on the fine. This time he can’t stop himself, huffs, keeps going as his mouth opens and the words just tumble out.

“You don’t look fine.”

“Well then stop fucking looking.” The words feel like a slap against his cheek, sting feverishly, and he bites his lip, nods. He’s gone too far. Maybe he should just tell her that there is another room available after all. Not even on the same floor, Scully, you can get as far away from me as you want. Instead, Mulder grabs his pillow and sits down in the small armchair across the bed.

“Mulder, I’m sorry. Please come to bed. I’m just really tired. I didn’t mean it.” He turns to her. Her eyes seem huge on her sunken, pale face. She might be a lot of things, fine is not one of them. If she were, he would not have needed to lie, to take just one room. The thought of not being with her, of making sure that she sleeps peacefully, doesn’t miss one breath, is unbearable. But she doesn’t want him here, worrying, caring about her.

“You’re not fine.”

“I didn’t mean to snap at you.”

“Can you just admit it, Scully? Just this once?”

“Mulder, I feel fine,” she sits up to be able to look at him, to make him see it if he can’t believe her words, “Now please come to bed so I can sleep.”

“Oh Scully,” he says, carrying the pillow back to bed, treading softly, “you just want to sleep with me.”

“Hm.” Half asleep already, eyes closed, but a small smile playing around her mouth. Mulder watches her a moment, lets himself enjoy the sight, before he rummages through his own bag to get changed in the bathroom.

He expects Scully to be fast asleep when he returns. He sits down at the edge of the bed carefully, scared to wake her up again. She doesn’t stir and he reaches to switch off the light before he too lies down, facing her. He keeps his eyes on her, not ready to let sleep claim him just yet.

“Mulder?” Her voice is soft, an unsteady sigh, and at first he is not even sure he is just imagining it. “I’m not fine.” She admits finally, a sob breaking free. For the second time this day, Mulder doesn’t think. He moves closer, takes her into his arms and holds her tightly against him.

“What do you need?” He whispers into her hair, kissing her there.

“Can you just hold me for a while?”

“Of course, Scully,” he presses another kiss against her forehead, where the intruder sits and waits his turn, “I’ll hold you for as long as you let me.” They fall asleep intertwined, no beginning, no end.