Sniffles and Sneezles Spread Diseasles

[idontneedluck]

The last few months have been stressful, to say the least, as he worked off his probation. Nothing he was made to do was out of malicious intent, of course, but hours upon hours of service work coupled with even more hours of solitary reflection meant it was a properly chastened Chirrut who returned to the fold.

It was also a Chirrut who'd been exposed to a majority of the pilgrims to the temple.

It was fairly inevitable that something lingered.

When Chirrut woke up this morning, the world was muffled, his chest heavy, his joints creaky and unhelpful. He ignored it.

That is to say, he forced himself up, went through the routines of getting ready for the day, but when it came time to actually set forth, he... stayed back. Casually. He didn't want a fuss, there was enough fuss over the last few months, this was just a cold. Once everyone was gone, he nabbed as many blankets as he could get his hands on, piling them onto his bed into a tangle of a nest to hide in... and then did exactly that. If this stupid thing was going to make his world muffled and off-balance, then he was just going to ride it out somewhere that didn't matter as much.

Comments

[iprotectyou]

"Nope!" Baze says joyfully, tugging another of the blankets off. Chirrut being ill isn't an occasion for mirth, usually, but Baze is determined to be happy enough for both of them. "You're sick, and this broth will make you better. I made it myself, Chirrut. Besides, you get crabby when you're sick. I want my regular Chirrut back."

[idontneedluck]

Well. Baze-made soup is definitely more tempting than acolyte-made soup, even if he's not hot on the idea of food in general.

"Stop stealing my blankets, and I wouldn't be so cranky." He sighs, but he comes out a little further, cautiously. His senses of direction and balance are just as muddled as the rest of it.

It's aggravating.

"I'm just going to spill it everywhere." He warns, grumpily.

[iprotectyou]

"Do you want me to feed it to you?" Baze asks, completely serious. He's pretty sure Chirrut is too prideful to let him help like that--Chirrut is the most independent person Baze knows--but the offer is there. "You don't have to use the spoon, you know. You can just drink it from the bowl. Now, sit up. You can't eat lying down."

[idontneedluck]

That sounded like a challenge. If he wasn't honestly concerned about the real possibility of spilling soup all over himself, he might just try it.

But no. This will be difficult enough without adding to the problem. Huffing dramatically he pulls himself out of the next far enough to sit up against the wall. And if he is being melodramatic about the whole thing to hide the fact that moving is... not entirely fun at the moment...

That's his own problem.

(Everything aches and his head is packed in cotton and if he could stop coughing for possibly five minutes consecutively that would be absolute bliss. He loathes being sick.)

"Lets have this life-giving soup then, if it will please you."

[iprotectyou]

Baze beams at him, carefully setting the warm, earthenware bowl into his hands. The broth is made from poultry bones, with ginger and a touch of nutmeg. Thin carrot slices and homemade egg noodles round out the soup.

"It does please me, that's why I brought it to you," Baze says, always happy when Chirrut actually lets him fuss. "Now, eat, eat, and I'll be right back with some tea."

Pronouncement made, he stands from the bed and heads to the kitchen.

[idontneedluck]

Chirrut waits a long moment until he can be reasonably sure that Baze is out of earshot.

"Like a mother hen with one chick." He mutters, to the soup. It's not that he doesn't appreciate the care. He does, it's... nice. Warming, even more than the soup is.

But he's still going to give Baze grief over it. On principle.

It is, actually, really good soup, and now that he's got the bowl steady, he sips at it contentedly.

[iprotectyou]

Baze soon returns with a large mug of sapir tea. Sapir is difficult to acquire year-round and is one of Chirrut's favorites, so of course Baze has a stash for special occasions. He takes pride in--and no small amount of amusement from--the fact that Chirrut has never been able to find it.

"You've made progress! Good," Baze says, blowing on the tea to cool it. He takes the nearly-empty bowl from Chirrut and presses the mug into his hands. "You know, it doesn't surprise me that you're sick. Master Sheotar has been running you ragged all throughout your probation. Something had to give."

[idontneedluck]

Chirrut curls his hands around the new vessel and sniffs (curiously and somewhat ineffectually) at its contents.

Oh.

He hums contentment, shifting against the wall a little to settle lower. He's happy just breathing in the steam of the best tea in the universe (in his not so humble opinion).

"I am going to find out where you hide this." He informs Baze, just in case Baze forgot that promise.

He wonders if the tea matches the place it grew - if the lands around its field were green and growing and living the way Jedha's deserts aren't.





"I live to serve. She was right to do what she did."

Though he still, even now, cannot entirely forgive the boy who shot Baze.

[iprotectyou]

"I'm sure you will," Baze says mournfully. Lies. It's all lies, and he knows Chirrut can tell. "I will have to find a newer, better hiding place. Or I'll just let you drink all of it, all at once, and no longer have a stash."

Baze settles on the bed again, tucking a blanket around Chirrut's shoulders. "Maybe she was," Baze says, patting his friend's knee. "But I'm glad it's over. Maybe she'll be gentler with you now. But frankly, you two are both so stubborn, I doubt you'll ever stop butting heads."

[idontneedluck]

"She's one sneaky lady." He replies ruefully. That phrase used to be said with wariness and distrust, but now it's just an admission that no how hard he trains, he'll probably never truly get the upper hand of her.

"So, how were the kids? Still asking when I'll take you down again?"

[iprotectyou]

Baze slants a look his way, certain that Chirrut can feel his skepticism. "A couple of them asked about you," he hedges. "I told them that you were sick, so there would be no demonstrations today. They were disappointed that they didn't get to see me wipe the floor with you, naturally."

He pokes Chirrut in the chest. "But overall, the class is doing well. Chori has shown great improvement in her breathing techniques, and Siana knows how to throw a mean punch. Thanks for asking."

[idontneedluck]

"Ugh, stop beating up a sick man." Chirrut grouses, releasing his cup with one hand for a moment to slap at Baze's. His aim is still ridiculously off, which just deepens the sulk. The tea counters any sulk he could produce, however. He sips it ridiculously slowly in a vain attempt to make it last forever.

"You are good for those children, you know. I don't know if the Elders have said."

[iprotectyou]

Baze pokes him again, this time in the arm. And again, back to the chest again. That Chirrut can't seem to smack him is endlessly entertaining--though Baze does quit after the third poke. He doesn't want to make Chirrut too sulky, especially since he really is sick.

Baze folds his arms to curb the temptation to ruffle Chirrut's short-cropped hair. "Thank you," the older Guardian says, sincerely. "They haven't, but I wouldn't believe them like I believe you. I didn't think I would be good for them. But I like teaching the class. You help a great deal, you know. The kids missed you today. So you need to drink your tea and stop being sick so you can come be a good example for them again."

[idontneedluck]

"Good example? Is that what we're calling it now?" Chirrut demands, after catching his breath when his lungs seize in a coughing fit.

"Oh Chirrut, they're going to be traumatized! Oh Chirrut, they'll hate me forever!" He continues in a bizarre falsetto that comes out even more mangled than usual thanks to the congestion.

[iprotectyou]

Baze rubs his friend's back until his coughing subsides. At the falsetto, Baze throws his head back and cackles. "They were traumatized! If you hadn't brought that frog in, they would have cried!" he insists, punching Chirrut in the shoulder. "I distinctly recall the children being afraid to approach us in the halls whenever we were together. It was as if they thought we were going to hurt each other then!"

[idontneedluck]

"You know, they say the memory is the first thing to go when you're old." Chirrut clucks sadly, shaking his head over the shame of it all. "They were just in awe of us."

[iprotectyou]

Baze grunts, dissatisfied. "My memory is fine," he says, drumming his fingers on his knee. "I can tell the difference between awe and fear, even if you can't."

[idontneedluck]

"No, I just don't see it." Chirrut agrees blithely, finishing his tea. "You worry too much. They adore you. Last week we had to halt training because one of them ran out onto the mat looking for you."

[iprotectyou]

Baze doesn't know what to think of that. He knows Chirrut is telling the truth, and in fact believes the man is incapable of lying, but Baze isn't sure what to do with the devotion of a teacup person.

"They know better," he grumbles, choosing to focus on logistics rather than the whole adoring bit. "I hope no one was hurt. I'd give them a talking-to if they didn't have one already."

[idontneedluck]

"Master Sheotar spotted it." Chirrut replies dryly. "The kid's probably under a bed somewhere."

[iprotectyou]

Baze barks out a laugh, reclaiming some of his former cheer. "Poor kid. She probably skinned them alive. Tell me it was one of the younger ones; the older ones know better, or they should, anyway," he says, plucking Chirrut's empty tea mug up from his hands. "More tea?"

[idontneedluck]

"Yes, she was... tiny." There's a pause, while he tells himself he's not going to sound pathetic.

"There's more?" It's pathetic. Also deeply hopeful, but that's a given when he's being offered his favorite tea.

[iprotectyou]

Baze gently tweaks his friend's congested nose. "Of course there's more," the older Guardian says, chuckling. "Would I leave you high and dry and tealess? No. As long as you don't find my stash and drink it all, there will always be more."

He slips out of the room, taking the dirty dishes with him. When he returns, he has a piping hot mug of sapir tea with him. "How are you feeling? Any better? You're not nesting near as much."

[idontneedluck]

"Well, you keep stealing my blankets." Is his initial, unhelpful reply, after a start when he realizes Baze had come back.

"I am moderately less dead." Chirrut agrees - the soup soothed his throat and while the coughing is beyond annoying, at least it isn't the unproductive wheeze of earlier this morning.

"Everything is still..." He waves a hand vaguely, both because he doesn't really know the shape of the gesture he's aiming for, and because he isn't quite sure what the word is that goes here. "Muted? Good word as any." And he's tired, which is ridiculous, he has been drowsing all morning and he hasn't done anything other than raid for blankets.

[iprotectyou]

"I only took two," Baze says, pressing the tea into Chirrut's hands. Baze turns to his own bed, picking up the blankets there, and spreads them out over Chirrut. "'Muted' makes sense. You can't hear as well when you're stuffed up, so the main sense you use is impaired. You should get some sleep. Sleep is always necessary for healing."