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One thing was for absolute certain: War would never, ever, wish a knee injury on anyone. Not even his worst enemy. It’s a masterclass in cruel and unusual punishment, and he’s slowly going insane.
He can't do anything. He's stuck at home, on 'bed rest,' 'elevating' his stupid knee because he ‘tore’ his ‘ACL’, and he's bored. Recovery is an endless cycle of rest, meds, and appointments, and he'd rather be doing literally anything else.
His phone lights up next to him on the couch, Yin's name popping up on the screen.
"Yin," he whines, bypassing 'hello' altogether.
"Are you bored again?"
"Yes." War pouts, even though Yin can't see him. If he could, War would already have multiple offers of things to do to stave off his boredom; Yin's never been able to resist his pout.
"Have you played that video game I bought you?"
No, War hasn't played it yet. He looks at it sitting on the coffee table, right where Yin left it the last time he came over.
"No..."
Yin sighs. "War." He sounds disapproving, and War can picture the look on his face.
"I want to go outside, I want to see people, I want to play soccer! The team's been losing since I got hurt, it's driving me insane."
"Soccer is what got you into this mess, old man."
"Hey! Show some respect for your Phi!"
"Okay, Phi. Do you think you can get up to open the door for me?"
There's a knock on the front door, and War is up on his crutches in record time, hobbling towards it while his phone sits forgotten on the couch, still connected.
Yin's voice echoes around him, coming from behind the door and his phone at the same time: "Hurry up, slowpoke, your lunch is getting cold!"
War wrestles the door open, and there's Yin, holding a bag of food, a triumphant grin on his face.
"My saviour," War says, inhaling the smell of chicken and rice. “Are you here to keep me company, or just feed me?”
Yin hums, mulling over his options. “I’m here to keep you company. I offer any and all distractions you can think of.”
War moves back so Yin can enter the condo properly, and waits ever so patiently while he removes his shoes.
“I can think of a few distractions,” he says once Yin is barefoot and the door is closed.
The corner of Yin’s mouth turns up and his eyes travel slowly down War’s body. “You can, can you?”
War definitely doesn’t squirm under Yin’s gaze, absolutely not. What he does do, however, is take the food and set it on the entry table. “Mhm.”
“Aren’t you supposed to be on bed rest?” Yin asks, his hands drawn like magnets towards War’s hips.
“So take me to bed.” War looks up at Yin and bites his lip, watching the way Yin’s pupils dilate. “I promise I won’t do anything to over-exert myself—I’ll let you do all the work.”
Yin’s eyes narrow and his thumbs rub slow circles over War’s hipbones. He’s thinking it over, War can tell, but he’s weighing his options. He’s being practical, and War needs him to not be. So, he deploys his greatest weapon.
Letting his crutches clatter to the floor, War balances on his good leg and gets his hands around the back of Yin’s neck. He pulls him down and into an electric kiss, infusing all his want and need into it so that Yin understands just how much he’s been craving this.
As predicted, Yin’s arms circle War’s waist and pull him flush to his body, and War swoons into the kiss. Yin lifts him, and War wraps his good leg around Yin’s waist as he’s carried in the direction of the bedroom.
Maybe bed rest isn’t the worst punishment in the world after all.