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

[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.