(no subject)

[idontneedluck]

Chirrut chose his greenhouse to wait for Baze, sitting in the sunshine pouring through the windows, a pot of tea and two cups standing by. Their room would have been secure, but he knows the flavor of that grief - Baze does not need any more reminders of what they've lost. Here where things are growing and glad is better, he thinks.

As good as it can be. It will have to be enough.

Comments

[idontneedluck]

.... Knocking?

Baze never knocks. He's never had to.

Chirrut frowns, and collects his staff as he rises and heads to the door. It opens easily enough, no jammed locks or rusty hinges to blame.

"Baze?"

[iprotectyou]

Baze is dreading this conversation. He doesn't want to inflict his pain on Chirrut. The larger Guardian knows their grief is shared, knows that Chirrut wouldn't let him suffer alone, but... But still.

"Chirrut," Baze says, and his voice cracks. He takes a step into the room, and nearly falls on his friend, wrapping the larger Guardian's arms around him. Baze's joints feels like water, and while he's not surprised that he's already crying again, he didn't expect to so soon.

"I'm so sorry. I didn't know you'd felt--"

Baze chokes.

[idontneedluck]

His poor big-hearted bantha. Chirrut pulls him inside and shoves the door shut. They don't need an audience, after all.

"Come, the tea is getting cold, I have been waiting for you." Chirrut chides Baze into moving again, mostly by sheer determination on his part. "It will do you good."

[iprotectyou]

Baze sniffles, letting himself be carried along on the force of Chirrut's will. Walking feels terrible. Walking feels good. Baze can't decide which; his joints feel like water, but the movements are good for the muscles in his legs.

"You were waiting for me?" Baze says as he moves, and then it dawns on him that Chirrut must have felt his grief from downstairs, too.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have--it just hit me. Again. The city--and you felt them, all of them... Chirrut, I'm so sorry. I didn't realize that you'd felt the city die. I should have known."

[idontneedluck]

"I didn't tell you." Chirrut admits freely as he offers Baze a seat on the raised platform usually holding trays of seedlings, while he moves to the other side of the teapot to pour. "We'd already lost so much... what sense was there in adding more pain?"

[iprotectyou]

Baze sinks onto the platform, his hands hanging loosely between his bent knees. His shoulders are sagging--as much as he can sag in armor and while wearing a coolant tank.

"But I should have known. You felt my death. I didn't put two and two together..."

[idontneedluck]

"It doesn't naturally follow. You know sometimes my grasp of the Force is non-existent - it doesn't obey my whims." Chirrut argues as he pours.

Of course, the Force was not so kind that day.

He had asked Baze if the city was gone in the vain hope he'd been horribly mistaken.

[iprotectyou]

"But you did feel them," Baze argues right back, wanting to take Chirrut's hands into his own, wanting to wrap around him and cling and never let go, wanting to comfort him when Baze didn't on the ship.

He doesn't move, instead watching Chirrut handle the teapot. Baze's mouth is suddenly dry.

"I told Ibani about the planet killer."

[idontneedluck]

"... Ah." Chirrut jumps to his conclusion, a little, but it's a pretty measured leap. "I'd wondered what brought this on."

He is going to have to have words with that girl.

Carefully he offers Baze a full cup of tea, with a wan smile.
"You know me, I'll manage until I don't."

[iprotectyou]

Baze's breath hitches. His tears swell in his eyes and spill over his cheeks, fat droplets that fall into the tea he accepts with a shaky word of thanks.

"I do know you," Baze says, chewing on his lower lip until it hurts.

He shifts his teacup to his left hand, and wraps his right arm around Chirrut's neck, dragging him close. Baze breathes in his friend's comforting scent, trying to stop crying. He's cried so much over this; when will he be truly finished?

"Chirrut... I... I'm sorry. I keep saying that, but I want you to know."

[idontneedluck]

The scent of tears almost overwhelms the scent of tea at close range. Chirrut doesn't know why he can't join in. Tears refuse to come on command, to recognize the safety of their new home and just... come. He knows Baze understands. He wishes he did. In some ways he will always be the strange feral child brought in by the Guardians.

"I know, I know. And thank you, dearheart." Chirrut allows himself to be folded into the nook between the plates of Baze's armor.

[iprotectyou]

Baze nearly spills his tea because he wants to wrap both his arms around his friend. The larger Guardian knows the smaller one can feel his pain intimately, through the Force, and so tries to master himself. Control is a lot harder than he thinks it should be; Baze's tears keep falling, soaking Chirrut's hair.

And yes, Baze understands that Chirrut can't cry. The larger Guardian does enough crying for both of them, he feels, sometimes.

Other times he feels guilty for even thinking that. Times like now. Baze curses himself for forcing his friend to feel the larger Guardian's pain when the smaller one can't cry.

But... Chirrut says exactly what Baze needs to hear, does exactly what Baze needs to have done. He clings to him, desperately seeking to control himself, his breath hitching again.

He wants to apologize again, for this, for grieving, but he knows Chirrut would have none of it.

Eventually, Baze takes a drink of his tea. It's perfect, not too hot, and not too cold, steeped to perfection.

"The tea is really good. Thank you."

[idontneedluck]

It's good one of them can grieve properly, that Chirrut can borrow some tears for the lost until his own heart and mind finally sync.

"I will need to develop the knack for serving it properly. After all, who would trust a tea seller who cannot brew their own product?"

[iprotectyou]

Baze draws strength from the tea, taking long drinks of it until he drains the cup. After all, there is always more tea to be had, here in heaven.

"You're planning to be a tea seller, now?" Baze asks, his tone just shy of teasing. His heart feels too weighted to take jabs at his friend.

"I'm sure you would be good at that. You're good at everything you put your mind to."

[idontneedluck]

"Well, while I might aspire to drink all of this once it is grown, I think that is a goal a bit beyond my reach." Chirrut replies, a gentle jibe. Besides, if he is successful, Baze will not bear the burden of supporting them alone.

[iprotectyou]

"I expect you to drink yourself sick before you sell off the rest. I have every faith in your abilities," Baze says, nudging his friend.

He doesn't release Chirrut. Not yet.

"Besides, I thought the point of growing tea plants was to make something you could consume."

[idontneedluck]

"Oh, it is - never fear about that. I plan on drinking my own body weight in Sapir daily. But..." He waves a hand at the plants.

All of the plants.

Most of them still fairly small, and still fitting three or four to a pot.

He's read that they are supposed to be thinned, as they grow, pulling up every second or third plant.

...

He's mostly been repotting them to give them more room, and separating them when they need more space. How is he supposed to pick which one lives or dies?

They all live.

Vigorously.

[iprotectyou]

Baze laughs, a wet sound interspersed with sniffles.

"You really are going to need two tea rooms. I don't know what I'm going to do with you," Baze says, pressing a kiss to Chirrut's cheek.

[idontneedluck]

"Don't tell of my humble beginnings when I am a great and powerful tea czar." Chirrut offers as an option, grinning.

[iprotectyou]

"Of course I will. Someone needs to instruct you in the ways of humility. Might as well be me," Baze says, grinning back.

"I'll probably only tell you, but that depends on how well you receive the telling."

[idontneedluck]

"I will take it as I do all your correction." Chirrut offers, in a tone that would be more comforting if he actually listened to Baze more often.

[iprotectyou]

Baze laughs long and hard, the grief of the day melting off of him. Chirrut is kriffing hilarious, and he knows it, the smug bastard, but Baze appreciates him so.

The larger Guardian offers the smaller one another embrace, trying to show him how much Baze loves him.

"Thank you, my friend," Baze says, his mirth rolling off him in waves.