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When it came to cuddling, no matter how much he tried to avoid it, Yao inevitably would end up drifting off to sleep in a position with either his arm or his leg caught awkwardly underneath Alfred somehow. It wasn’t that big of a problem, since in case he needed to get up in the middle of the night, Yao could usually either manage to wiggle and edge himself out, or nudge Alfred until he woke up, offered a sleepy apology, and rolled over.
This morning, however, when Yao woke up finding his left arm stuck underneath Alfred’s chest, in a gesture that obviously must have felt very intimate and comforting at the time but now was extremely inconvenient. “Hey, Al,” he said, first quietly and then louder, trying to get his attention, but Alfred remained asleep. Yao lay down again, frustrated, just as he started to feel the dreaded nerve-tingling sensation in his forearm. It would probably have been easier to scoot out if his elbow hadn’t been stuck underneath as well.
It was a warm weekend morning, though, and as he didn’t have anything particularly urgent to do, he just stayed there, trying his best not to move his arm, and considering the situation. Usually Alfred was the morning person, a habit probably first engrained in him by Ben Franklin (“Early to bed, and Early to rise, makes a man healthy, wealthy, and wise!”) but continued due to his persistent and strong love of making the most of his day, whatever that meant. Last night, however, they’d both gone to bed late–Yao because he just naturally enjoyed appreciating the darker, quieter hours, but Al had been at work since 6:00 am.
Despite a reputation for being “lazy,” Yao had observed that Alfred actually had a pretty solid work ethic, up to the point where he’d get nervous and antsy if left with an awkward gap of free time on his designated work day. I guess he deserves his rest, Yao thought, lack of circulation aside. I could just stay here and wait until he wakes up, but then he’d feel bad for keeping me in…
An idea came to Yao, an idea stemming from over two millennia ago and so simple that he almost laughed out loud before remembering that he was trying to not disturb Alfred, at least for now. Well, thought Yao, he might be a bit disturbed afterwards, but until then I’ll let him have some peaceful sleep. He took a few deep breaths, rubbed his left shoulder, and grit his teeth.
—
Yao was sitting peacefully in his kitchen with a cup of hot tea and a copy of the newspaper when he heard a fantastic yelp coming from the back of the house. A couple seconds later an extremely disheveled and very disturbed looking Alfred ran into the kitchen, pale and looking as if he were in a strange limbo state between, angry, frightened, and deeply, deeply confused.
“GODDAMMIT, CHINA,” he panted.
“Good morning,” said Yao serenely, without looking up from his newspaper
“NO,” said Alfred. “no, no, no, no NO. You do not ‘Good Morning’ me after you do something like THIS.” He shoved a limp severed arm with a bloody stump and shoved it in Yao’s face. “What the hell were you thinking?”
“Well, you fell asleep on my arm, so I thought I’d let you get a couple more hours of rest.”
“So you just decided to what, rip it off? Holy shit! This was worse than that horse head scene in The Godfather."
“Just calm down before you hurt yourself. Or make another movie reference. And give me that.” Yao grabbed his arm and reattached it to his shoulder, where he felt the bones and tendons quickly heal and reattach themselves while Alfred looked on with a mixture of fascination and horror.
“I didn’t know you could do that.”
“Technically, you can too. We’re immortal, we regenerate, this is all basic knowledge. You mean you’ve never lost a limb before?”
“Well, I’ve had some pretty gruesome injuries myself, but nothing so severe.” Alfred walked over and leaned against the counter. “Seriously though. What made you go and pull a 127 Hours like that?”
Yao finished his tea and sighed. “What did I tell you about making movie references?”
“Well I’m sorry if humor is just my chosen way of dealing with a traumatic experience this early in the morning.”
“It’s 11:30.”
“It is?” Alfred glanced at the clock, where the big hand was just passing the 6. “Oh. Oh crap. I have tons of work to do today…” He looked around the kitchen frantically. “Where’s all the stuff I brought from work last night?”
“I put it away.”
“What? But I need to finish–“
“Shhh!!” Yao took Alfred’s hands and gently guided him into a seat. “It’s too early for you to be freaking out. I made breakfast already, okay? ” He shoved the plate towards Alfred, who began eating very quickly. “And take your time. Eating too fast is bad for healthy.”
“Why didn’t you wake me up earlier?” said Alfred through a full mouth. “I mean, you could have just rolled me over anyway, I know you’re strong enough.”
“It’s not just about strength,” said Yao. “And, well…I wanted you to get some rest. You seemed really tired and stressed last night, you know?”
“Isn’t taking a farewell to arm a bit of an extreme?”
“Again with the references!” said Yao, although he laughed before he could stop himself.
“I mean it,” said Al. “I get it, you’re old, you’ve probably endured more physical trauma than all of us combined. But come on, I’ve never seen Francis or Arthur or any one of those other old folks tossing their limbs around casually like that. Even England, and God knows the man loves his horror.”
“Russia’s heart fell right out of his chest that one time.”
“True. But that’s different. You kind of expect that sort of weird stuff to happen around him, you know? I mean, I have a pretty high gore tolerance myself, just from being on the battlefield and all that. It’s terrible, but when you’re out say, in the foxholes or charging the enemy, it’s considered normal stuff. I didn’t expect it here of all places, and certainly not in bed.”
Yao didn’t completely regret his decision, but he did feel a slightly bit more remorseful. “I’m sorry about that,” he said. “Oh man–I hope it didn’t trigger any bad memories or flashbacks anything from it, did it?”
Alfred shrugged. “No, not this time. Nothing that extreme. I just felt your arm and that was normal, but then the rest of you wasn’t there, and it was just this awful severed thing, and that’s when I freaked out.”
“Well, I’m here now, and I’m whole. For now at least.” Yao wiggled his fingers in his left arm, which still felt like it had fallen asleep. “I kind of just got this burst of inspiration right then, and I was like ‘why not?’ I guess I didn’t really think it through.”
“It’s alright,” said Alfred, taking his dish to the sink. “I mean, don’t do it ever again, but I feel better now. It’s not like the arm can move by itself when it’s not attached to you, right?”
“What? Of course not!”
“Oh, that’s good. It would’ve been so much creepier, like in Coraline when the hand is like chasing her the whole time at the end. Yeesh.” Alfred shuddered. “And before you tell me to stop making references again, I’ll just say that it’s my own way of dealing with a particularly disarming situation.”
Yao snorted and rolled his eyes.
“It’s too bad you didn’t get my reference,” he said. “And to think I was just trying to be romantic.”
“Reference?” Alfred looked confused “What reference?”
“It’s kind of old and not really well known in the West, so I yeah, I didn’t really expect you to pick up on it. But that doesn’t mean I didn’t still think it was a good idea. Ever heard of Emperor Ai and Dong Xian?”
“Nope.” said Alfred. “Enlighten me, then. Did they both lose their arms or something?”
“No! Nothing like that. Anyway,” he continued. “The story goes that they were napping together one afternoon, and Dong Xian fell asleep on the Emperor’s sleeve. Emperor Ai decided to cut off his own sleeve rather than wake up his lover, and when the court asked him why his sleeve was cut like that, he told them this story. “
“Wow,” said Alfred, rinsing his dish and putting it in the washer. “Now that you put it that way, that is pretty romantic. An arm is a bit more extreme though, don’t you think?”
Yao shrugged. “After all these years, I still don't exactly understand how romance is supposed to feel, but hey! I just one-upped an iconic romantic figurehead. That should count, right?”
Alfred smiled. “Well, it sure does for me. It’s nice to see you all in one piece again.” He took Yao’s left hand, now alive, attached, and definitely not creepy anymore, and scrutinized it. “You’re not planning to, like, completely wreck yourself or anything anytime soon are you?”
“Nope,” said Yao. “Don’t worry, I won’t do it again. Not on purpose, at least. On one condition though.”
“What?”
“You need to take a real, actual break today. Government stuff is always stressful for all of us, but you’ve really been too hard on yourself lately! Bosses put enough pressure on us as it is, so why put more on yourself?” Yao knew he himself didn’t always follow his own advice completely, but kept quiet on that.
“I know, I know, it’s just–aughh–fine. Fine, China.” said Alfred. “I guess dismemberment is a good enough excuse to take a day off. Are you busy today?”
“You know I’m not.” said Yao. “It’s nice outside. Let’s go out.”
Cuddling, cut sleeves, severed arms, sleepy mornings, and ridiculous movie references–the line distinguishing between which gestures were romantic or not was a crooked and inconsistent one, and Yao preferred not to think so hard about what did or did not fit in that line.
“Sounds good,” said Alfred. “Have anywhere in mind?”
“I know a few places.” Said Yao. He held out his hand–his left hand, and Al happily took it.