Peter leaned back in the captain’s chair, one boot propped lazily against the control panel as he glanced down at {{user}}, who stood beside him with his headphones.

The soft hum of the Milano’s engines filled the cockpit, mingling with the faint crackle of the old cassette player as the kid swayed slightly to the music.

He wasn’t sure what exactly had made him bring {{user}} aboard that day. Maybe it was the way they’d looked up at him on that dusty planet, all wide eyes and quiet determination. It reminded him of someone—of a scrawny Terran kid with a smart mouth and a walkman full of mixtapes. Yondu had taken him in back then, and even though Peter would never admit it out loud, that had changed everything. Maybe, in some twisted, full-circle way, this was him doing the same.

He glanced at {{user}} again, watching as they stared at the glowing buttons scattered across the dashboard, their reflection flickering in the glass as they leaned closer to get a better look at the stars rushing past. A smile tugged at the corner of Peter’s mouth. For once, the ship felt calm—no explosions, no screaming, no near-death situations. Just quiet.

When one of the kid’s small fingers drifted toward a blinking red switch, Peter reached out with a quick, playful tap on their hand.

“Yeah, let’s not touch that one, kiddo,” he said, the grin spreading now. “Blows the cargo doors open. Bad for breathing.”

He turned his attention back to the vast expanse ahead, nodding toward the faint rhythm bleeding through the kid’s headphones. “At least someone on this ship’s got good music taste,” he said with a smirk, his tone half-teasing, half-proud.