Tennessee Whiskey

Chapter 4: Arc 1 - Guilty Pleasure

The past few days since Yao has re-awoken, have not surprisingly been tedious and jejune. The routine has been repetitive:
Wake up, get - fed, get hair and teeth brushed, watch TV, nap, talk to any visitors that'd stop by to check up on him, nap, get fed again, nap, watch TV, and. sleep.

He's dependent on Alfred now. And he feels pathetic for it. He just wants to sit up and hug him. Tell him everything will be alright.

But he still doesn't even know if that's true. He doesn't know if things will be alright. It's concerning, to say the least. There is one thing he's sure of. He regrets the disability of power he had against Ivan. He should have been able to have the last word and work things out. Then maybe he wouldn't have got the both of them injured and gotten himself messed up like this.

That's right... He can only blame himself for how things are now. If he'd just been able to work things out beforehand, things would be different...he wouldn't be laying here, dispensed and useless.

It is the regrets of what could have been that will haunt him.

He hears Alfred re-enter the living room. With a great deal of effort, he manages to tilt his head slightly to look at the taller man, carrying a load of towels and looking down at him, as if expecting something.

'I can't move, why are you giving me that look?' Yao thinks to himself, but then realizes it. That's not a look of expectation, but of worry. He can tell that he'd been crying. A lot. Which only makes Yao feel even worse for being in this state. It suddenly hits him.

The younger nation takes a seat next to Yao on the couch, and at first, Yao's reaction is to sit up and hug him, but that notion is quickly shot down for obvious reasons. He grunts internally.

"Uhm, kinda weird but..." He clears his throat, blushing mildly, "...do you think you should bathe?"

Yao's initial reaction is to chop his skull with the fore edge of his palm. But not only is he incapable of doing so in this state, but his inquiry is reasonable. He's been in the same bed and couch for weeks - he's all sweaty and painted with dried blood and it's certainly pungent.

Yao obliges and offers a reluctant moan.

"Yeeeeeeah this is stupid, I'm going to have to take your clothes off, dude."

Despite Yao's almost non-existent ability to reciprocate in any sort of way, he manages to give off a muffled, contorted whimper and lean forward, away from Alfred. Though the lean turns into him almost falling forward, he is saved by Alfred's quick reflexes from face-planting onto the tanned carpet floor.

"Hey, look at that, man. I made ya move!" He laughs halfheartedly, bringing Yao back up-right. "Look, we can do this the less hard way, or the hard way. Either way it's gonna get awkward."

Yao realizes that Alfred is being completely serious. He senses the burning heat creeping up into his face all-too-explicitly. After a few moments of more silence, Alfred comes to the conclusion that they're going to have to go about the hard way of this.

"Aww, don't tell me you're nervous, my man." Alfred pokes playfully, obviously still trying to come to terms with the situation through inappropriate humor. Yao feels hands around his abdomen, undoing his sash with senseless lethargy. Like being teased, though Yao knows that Alfred wouldn't dare do anything so crude. Being trapped in his mind is literal torture right now.