Chirrut's (little) Problem

[idontneedluck]

Chirrut... has a problem. Normally when Chirrut has a problem, it isn't much of an issue - he has Baze, and together they can figure out most things (or by then Master Sheotar has figured out they're up to something because she knows everything and somehow problems have a way of refocusing themselves when she's around).

But this time, Chirrut can't go to Baze.

Because he's pretty sure he'll either embarrass or horrify Baze with this particular... problem.

...

So how, exactly, is he supposed to stop having a crush on his best friend?

Chirrut is spending extra time on the training mats tonight, trying to drive himself to exhaustion. A dream-free night... would be good.

Comments

[idontneedluck]

"Huh? Yeah, yeah, I'm fine, really." Chirrut smiles, as ever just a little too wide, showing a little too much gum to be suave or composed or even 'adult'.

"Just been a long day, you know? Master Sheotar gave me extra lessons."

[iprotectyou]

"Well, if you're tired, I can find someone else to beat on for a spell," Baze says, matching that smile. He steps onto the mat, light despite his bulk--and his distress about Chirrut. He knows he can't hide that from his friend's mysterious senses, but he can try to do Chirrut a favor and give him a decent sparring match.

Baze settles his bare feet on the mat. He clicks his tongue, and charges in.

[idontneedluck]

Chirrut is about to wuss out, tell Baze 'no, really, that would probably be a good plan, sorry, I should go hide in the sonics forever' when he hears that click, and scrambles to get his guard up.

'Cause Baze is built like a brick wall and not getting his guard up is going to lead to a painful introduction to the floor.

And getting pinned by Baze.

Oh Force.

Chirrut hangs on to his focus by sheer desperation as he parries the blows aimed at him.

[iprotectyou]

Baze can tell that Chirrut is flagging, is desperate to defend himself. But Baze doesn't dare go easy on him. To give him anything less than Baze's best would be an insult.

Still. Baze does not aim for his head. The larger teen sweeps for his feet and swings for his ribs and takes aim at his wrists, trying to incapacitate him.

Baze is young and honed, well-trained and muscled. He's not quite in his prime, but he's getting there, quickly. If Chirrut gives him an opening, Baze will take it.

[idontneedluck]

Eventually Chirrut's attention settles, and he falls back on the training Master Sheotar is trying to grind into his bones. It... mostly works. The fluidity he is being trained to is starting to show on a more regular basis.

Except when his imagination wanders off at odd moments, leaving him wrong-footed and stumbling.

[iprotectyou]

Ah, good, there's the Chirrut Baze knows. No, wait, now his friend is letting Baze get past his guard again. Baze winces as his staff slams into Chirrut's ribs for the second time in short order. Why is he so sloppy today? And intermittently, too?

Baze smacks Chirrut's wrist, stunning his hand. Enough is enough. Baze backs off immediately, his energy not nearly spent, but his worry for his friend too much to ignore.

"Chirrut," Baze says, watching him carefully.

"Your mind's not on the fight. What has you distracted?"

[idontneedluck]

Chirrut thinks very very hard about Master Sheotar walking in right now with that wicked fast staff of hers and...

Okay. Focusing. He has this.

"Um. Nothing, I mean. It's like I said, lots of training today."

[iprotectyou]

"You've frequently had days with a lot of training," Baze points out, grounding his staff. His hands are meaty and calloused, strong and with a powerful grip, used for massages and other things.

"You're rarely this sloppy. What's going on?"

[idontneedluck]

Chirrut can hear the rasp of those hands against wood, and has to fight very hard to not imagine those hands

(so warm, so gentle, so strong)

in other places, doing... other things.

He hopes desperately that his flush is hidden in the heat of exertion.

"Nothing's going on, mother hen. If you don't want to spar, I'm going to get clean. I stink."

AKA he's going to hide in the sonic until the maddening noise of it drives all other thoughts out of his head.

[iprotectyou]

Baze presses his lips together in a thin line. He doesn't know why Chirrut is being so squirrely. Baze is tempted to corner his friend, to shake him, to force an answer out of him that's more satisfactory.

But Baze knows that won't work. Chirrut will come around, in his own time, but can't be forced into anything. Trying will only make him dance out of Baze's reach.

He steps aside, shouldering his staff.

"You don't stink to me--that's clean, honest sweat--but as you will."

[idontneedluck]

"Tell that to Master Korror, I have library work tonight!" Chirrut retorts as he passes Baze, doing his level damnedest not to actually flee outright. "You know how he feels about grimy hands on his stuff, even if he only lets me near the cassettes."

[iprotectyou]

"Hmph!" Baze says, sending his friend off. The larger teen finds someone else to spar with, and someone else after that, and even takes on Master Sheotar--with horrible results. He drives himself to exhaustion, subsuming himself in fighting to keep from worrying about why his friend needed to flee from him.

Later--much later--Baze pounds on the door to the sonic cleaner. Chirrut has been in there for hours--much, much longer than he ever has before--and Baze is, damn it, still worried about him. Chirrut hates the sonics. They ring right through his head and torture him on the best of days. What on Jedha could posses him to submit to pain?

"Chirrut! Open up! I need the sonic, too!"

[idontneedluck]

Chirrut was enjoying an almost thought-free interlude. The sonics are not enjoyable, but they do provide a definite distraction.

And then Baze had to go and ruin it. Now all Chirrut can think about is Baze stripping out of his robes, now probably sticking to him distractingly with sweat, the scent of his exertion thick...

Chirrut slams his fist into the tile in frustration before turning off the sonic.

And spends a long few moments thinking desperately about the Elders. Thinking about the Elders naked. Thinking about the Elders naked, doing forms... there, that's better.

Is adulthood ALL going to be like this?

"Keep your pants on, I'll be out in a minute." There's a faint crack in his voice as he calls back as he slips between pitches, the occurrence much less common than it used to be.

[iprotectyou]

Baze leans on the door, waiting. No, kriff that, he starts peeling his robes off. He's hot, and tired, and his muscles are aching from all the abuse he put them through, and he's still got kitchen duties later tonight. He needs to be clean.

And Chirrut, damn it all, continues to be worrying. He's clearly avoiding Baze, and it hurts. It hurts more than Baze has ever hurt before; no matter what faced them, Chirrut always had his back. And now? Baze is unsure what he did to cause this, but if he can apologize, well... Maybe things will go back to normal.

"I'm sorry," Baze says, pressing his palms and forehead against the door, half-disrobed.

[idontneedluck]

"... About what? Needing the sonic? I mean, we only have the one, so..." Chirrut calls back, hastily securing his robes from long habit (and a bit of hidden stitching to let him know which side goes on the outside). Chirrut palms open the door, nearly running into a

(Force he smells good)

sweaty Baze for his troubles.

"Sorry, gotta go or I'll be late." He adds as the bells high in the temple start chiming.

[iprotectyou]

Baze catches him around the wrist--the one not smacked with a staff. The larger teen pulls the smaller one close, staring at him with tears in Baze's eyes.

"Why are you avoiding me?"

[idontneedluck]

"Oh... Force." Chirrut groans, because Baze smells delicious and feels miserable and this isn't what he wanted at all. He did it all wrong.

"I'm sorry, I wasn't... I mean I was, but not because I was mad, or anything, just... you never said anything, or... did, anything, about anyone, and..."

He sighs, scrubbing the back of his neck with his bruised hand as the confession babbles out like a forgotten spring.

"I like you, Baze."

[iprotectyou]

Baze trails his fingers up Chirrut's arm to his shoulder, and offers him a squeeze. Baze wants to tug him into an embrace, but if Chirrut's been avoiding him... well, it might not be the best time for a hug, is all. Still. Baze wants.

"I don't understand. What does us being friends have to do with you avoiding me?" Baze says, the wounds still raw. He releases Chirrut and scrubs at his eyes.

[idontneedluck]

Force, why won't anything go right? In those rare times he thought about confessing everything to Baze, this was the bit that he always hoped involved a 'I like you too' and maybe more...

Instead Baze just sounds confused, and hurt, the faint whisper of the Force bringing nothing but dismay.

"No, I mean... I... like, like you. More... more than a friend... should."

The first time Baze's voice dropped Chirrut ran smack into a wall. He may never forget that feeling (both the way his heart seized, and the way the stone bloodied his nose).

[iprotectyou]

The last time Chirrut stole Baze's breath, it was with a staff against his ribs. This time feels just as much of a shock, just as painful. Baze knows, intimately, that he'll hurt his friend no matter what he does. He doesn't like Chirrut, not in that way.

Baze doesn't like anyone in that way. He honestly hasn't given liking people very much thought; there was always so much more to do. Kitchen duties. Sparring. Library work.

But now, he's going to hurt Chirrut. Shavit. Baze realizes, slowly, that it might be easier to give into his friend. Might be easier to give him what he wants.

Baze draws a deep breath through his nose, and leans forward to mash his lips against Chirrut's.

Baze feels nothing.

[idontneedluck]

For a minute, for a long minute, Chirrut thinks that maybe he had it wrong, maybe this will all work out. Baze is kissing him, and while noses are awkward Baze's lips are soft. His happiness burns like a starbird trapped under his ribs.

But then he realizes, with a thump like being sent sprawling to the mat, the Force isn't whispering anything different than it was a minute ago. The only joy in the room is his own.

And then that dies too.

"... Baze?" Chirrut pulls away, his hands braced against Baze's chest (though whether it's to push back Baze or to keep himself from seizing temptation, he couldn't even tell himself). "What are you doing?"

[iprotectyou]

Baze covers Chirrut's hands with his own, runs his thumbs across the backs of them. Tears roll down his cheeks and drip off his chin, where stubble is just beginning to grow.

"I... I thought... I mean, it's what you want, isn't it?" Baze says, his voice cracking with both agony and an unfortunate change in pitch.

"I thought that if I... forced myself, I could care for you, too, in... that way."

He lets loose a choked sob, lowering his head.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Chirrut."

[idontneedluck]

"That's why I didn't tell you." Chirrut admits, softly, his posture stiff. He's holding himself like a gutshot man trying to keep his feet, stubborn and proud. "If there'd been someone else... anyone else, I would have fought. I would have fought so hard for you, burned everything to the ground before I gave up. But I can't fight against nothing."

[iprotectyou]

Baze opens his mouth, but no words come out. He cries brokenly, silently, feeling a massive headache bloom behind his jammed-shut eyes. He wants to run. He knew he would hurt his friend, and now Baze has made it so much worse. Why does it have to be this way? Why can't things just go back to normal?

Why is he the way he is?

"I... wish I could love you, in the way you need," Baze says, his words choked. He doesn't even know why he's saying them at this point; he won't bring solace to either him or his friend with words, no matter how genuine, how sorry.

Sorry. What a useless word.

"But I don't love anyone like that. There's no one else. There never will be."

[idontneedluck]

Chirrut grimaces, the 'love you' close enough to what he wanted to hear to grate along frayed nerves. He suspected, almost knew, that he wasn't enough (that no one was enough) to catch Baze's attention. How could they, with Baze the most devoted of them all? What could compare to the Force?

Chirrut damns himself for being prideful enough to try. To persist in thinking that maybe, if he waited long enough...

"I'm sorry too. I... well, I suspected. But I couldn't... can't... stop." The truth leaks a little more than he wanted, because even now he knows what the truth is. He loves Baze Malbus, body and soul.



"I could... move rooms. If you wanted."

[iprotectyou]

No! Baze thinks, almost physically recoiling. He stays perfectly still, except for the way his breath comes faster. Please don't leave me, is the next thought that chases on the heels of the first, cloying and choking.

He licks his suddenly dry lips.

"If... If that's what you want," Baze says, releasing Chirrut's hands. Baze has no right to keep Chirrut around, when the larger Jedhan's very existence will hurt the smaller one.

[idontneedluck]

"No!" Chirrut is vocal in his denial, pain splashed across his expression. "I just thought..." He grimaces, explaining because he has to, hesitating because now it's all just too humiliating.

"You're... you're really attractive, and... I've been trying so hard not to be creepy about it."

Chirrut is very sure, however, that if they go on sharing a room eventually he's going to slip up and Baze will see exactly how attractive Chirrut finds him.

This is acutely mortifying, and if the ground feels like opening up and swallowing him right now, he won't protest at all.

[iprotectyou]

"You're not creepy at all," Baze says, lowering his head. Relief at Chirrut's denial burns in Baze's chest, freeing up his lungs to take in oxygen again.

Truth be told, Baze didn't even notice, though now that he looks back... Chirrut did have a habit of showing off like hell during forms and classes and sparring matches. And he'd bring Baze little flowers, and leave them by his pillow or place them in his hair. Baze thought the gesture was sweet, and that's just what friends did for each other. He'd returned the gesture by bringing tea to his friend, though now Baze wonders if that was leading him on.

Damn it, why does loving people have to be so complicated? Baze doesn't know what proper boundaries are in relationships. He's always known this, always been surprised when people don't want hugs. He foolishly thought his lack of knowledge--and such a lack that did not come from not paying attention--wouldn't extend to his and Chirrut's relationship. Baze thought they were doing fine.

Apparently not.

And now Chirrut is talking about being creepy, and Baze has no idea what he means. Shavit.

"I don't want you to leave. I want to be friends, still. Is... Is that too much to ask?"

[idontneedluck]

"No! No, of course not, I will always be your friend." Chirrut protests, uncaring about how difficult 'just friends' might be in the face of raging hormones. He'll adjust. He'll find a way to adjust. He's not going to lose Baze over this, come hell or high water.

[iprotectyou]

"Thank you, Chirrut," Baze says, wiping his nose on the back of his sleeve.

"We're so late," he says, glancing to the sonic and then back to his friend again.

"Master Sheotar is going to kick both our asses."

[idontneedluck]

"That is a perpetual state of being." Chirrut notes ruefully. He's unwilling to step away - he knows, now, that there will never be a romance between him and Baze. Leaving this moment is leaving the end of that hope.

He will, of course. He'll be so very careful. He can't bear to lose Baze as a friend too. It's... just going to be so very difficult.

Maybe Master Sheotar will be especially vicious towards him for the next... forever. Ugh.