OOM/IM: The brawl

[idontneedluck]

Chirrut knows the feeling of being so angry, so out of control, that only outright violence will grind peace back into your bones. He's felt it more times than he cares to count, himself.

He's never gotten quite that sense from Baze. Close, but Baze's anger is more sustained - the controlled fire of a flamethrower rather than the out-of-control inferno of a burning house.

This is something else entirely.

Chirrut immediately abandons his tea and scoops up his staff as Baze approaches, his whole posture tense and wary.

"Baze?"

Comments

[idontneedluck]

Chirrut is so proud.

He understands that is ridiculous, he understands that right now he needs to focus on not getting hit like that again, he understands that he might need to revert to form entirely if he wants to avoid serious injury.

But despite his rage (or perhaps because of it), Baze is fighting with a grace that Chirrut has missed for decades.

So it's impossible to keep the grin off of his face. He's just so terribly pleased.

He shows it by sliding free of Baze's attempt to box him in and launching a vicious offensive.

[iprotectyou]

At some point, while Baze defends himself, his rage, that fire that nearly consumed him, gives way to pleasure. The fight, while serious and risky, is fun. Chirrut's grin--not mad-dog or feral like his usual smile, but oh-so-proud--sparks one in Baze, all tooth. He'd laugh if he weren't so focused on blocking Chirrut's vicious attacks.

Baze is pleased--beyond pleased--that he's doing better at sparring, that he can begin to keep up with his friend. All those endless hours of forms have paid off, and Baze has started to recover a modicum of his former skill.

He engages Chirrut, blocking as much as Baze is able and growing annoyed with himself when his friend's strikes slip past Baze's staff.

[idontneedluck]

He refuses to be put off or slowed, pressing his advantage now that he's having an easier time getting past Baze's control. He strikes viciously, determined to wear Baze down.

It's that or deal with his friend still in a rage after this fight is over.

[iprotectyou]

Baze is easily worn down at this point. His arms were already numb from blocking, and sweat courses down the back of his neck. His breath hitches as he tries to catch it, and he feels the sting of bruises all up and down his body.

"Okay! I yield," Baze says, blocking once and using his momentum to step backwards. He grounds his staff, leaning heavily on it, blowing hard. He bows his head, filling his burning lungs with oxygen. "Thank you, my friend."

[idontneedluck]

Chirrut pauses, his head cocked and considering, poised to continue his charge.

Then he smiles and flops to the ground, boneless.

"Oh good - I was getting tired. You're getting better, Baze."

[iprotectyou]

Baze beams at his friend, who is graceful even in repose. "Only because you've drilled me," the larger man says, lowering himself to the packed earth and settling in the lotus position. He leans his head against his staff, held in a two-handed grip. "I'm sorry I was so angry."

[idontneedluck]

"Do I look like a Jedi?" Chirrut laughs, dragging his sleeve over his face. "You can be angry if you like - just give me time to catch my breath if you want to go again."

[iprotectyou]

Baze often feels loved by his friend, and this is one of those moments. Chirrut understands him, understands his mercurial moods, and knows exactly what to do to calm Baze again. He laughs, too.

"I might take you up on that," he says, drawing a slow breath through his nose. "When I remember why I was so wound up again."

Baze scoffs. "He didn't even apologize. He ran away."

[idontneedluck]

"Maybe you should go back to threatening everyone with a blaster again." Chirrut grins, cheerfully. "That always seemed to work out well for you."

[iprotectyou]

"I thought you didn't like my blaster," Baze says, matching that grin with a cheeky one of his own. "An 'inelegant weapon,' you've always said. Besides, I can't really kill anyone in heaven--they'll just come back to haunt me--so I can't make good on those threats. And you know me; I'm not about to threaten someone when I can't make good on it. So I'm stuck. I'll just have to get angry and take it out on you again."

[idontneedluck]

"Work work work." Chirrut sighs, though his grin hasn't dimmed. "Always keeping me busy. I'll just wear away to nothing."

[iprotectyou]

"Don't worry, I'll feed you," Baze says, his burst of laughter loud and long. "Speaking of, would you like to get some food? I noticed you abandoned some tea when I approached, and I'm sorry about that."

[idontneedluck]

"Would you like to get some food?" Chirrut echos, laughing. "I didn't hit you that hard, did I? As long as it isn't something horrifically sweet."

[iprotectyou]

Baze guffaws, giving into it completely. Though his body is sore from being struck, his shoulders are loose. He feels good; working his anger out in a frenetic spar was just what he needed, and he's grateful to his friend for helping him.

"Fair, fair, you unrepentant chowhound," he says, using his staff to leverage himself up to his feet. He helps Chirrut up and loops an arm around his waist, heading to the bar for dinner.