OOM: A Gift of Tea

[iprotectyou]

Baze has been waiting for this day--the seventh of the second month--for weeks.

He's been keeping a secret from Chirrut: when they visited the temple for the last time after it fell, Baze retrieved his stash of sapir tea from its hiding place--behind a brick in the wall of a closet in the training hall, untouched in the raid.

Now, Baze has woken up early, before Chirrut, to prepare the tea. The larger Jedhan waits the requisite thirty seconds for their tap water to turn from red to black to something approximating clear, and then fills the kettle. Carefully separating the proper amount of tea leaves from what remains of the block, he fills the pot's strainer with sapir. The process is meditative, and silent--save the whistling of the kettle, which Baze removes from the heat as soon as possible. He pours the water into the pot, encouraged by the scent of green and growing things--a scent he hasn't smelled in far, far too long.

He allows the tea to steep for a few minutes, and then crosses to his sleeping friend, only to gently shake him awake. It's been years since Chirrut has had his tea, and Baze wants it to be the first thing he has upon waking.

"Happy birthday, Chirrut," Baze says with a soft, pleased smile, pressing the cup of precious sapir into his friend's hand.

Comments

[idontneedluck]

"Then let me up, I need to get ready." Chirrut mock-huffs, freeing himself and taking his cup of tea with him to the 'fresher because he's not entirely ready to relinquish it yet.

After the sonic cleaner has been faced down for another day and he is properly attired, Chirrut finishes the last of his tea, and neatly settles his rinsed-out mug near the teapot, in hopes of future tea.

"Are you ready?"

[iprotectyou]

"Yes," Baze says, adjusting his armor. It's been weighing more heavily on him lately; he knows it's because he doesn't eat enough to properly fill it out in the shoulders, but there's little he can do about that.

"I was dressed before I prepared the tea this morning, lazybones," Baze says, scolding his friend with a tone that's not remotely scolding. He hefts his modified E-11 rifle.

"Let's go."

[idontneedluck]

Chirrut's frown is a fleeting thing, gone almost before it's fully formed. He doesn't like Baze going armed and armored, but he hardly has a good argument against it.

So he doesn't comment. He just sends another plea to the Force that the Imperials will lose interest in their little moon soon.

The trip to the market is a short one, and it doesn't take Chirrut long to start disappearing. Just for a few moments, always returning grinning and innocent. The market isn't as rich these days, the wares more simple, more worn. There's nervousness that wasn't there before the Empire.

There is, today at least, a messenger-boy offering Baze a small container of bao, insistently.

[iprotectyou]

Baze is suspicious. He takes the bao anyway--how could he not? It's food--good food, much better than the leftovers he and Chirrut usually get--and no Jedhan worth their salt wastes food. Especially not now.

However, Baze has little luck pressing the messenger cum delivery boy for details. The adult allows the bao boy to scurry away.

Baze has to find Chirrut, so the large man looks. But by the third cadre of stormtroopers, Baze is convinced that his friend doesn't want to be found. He's somewhere in the market, Baze is convinced, given the way the vendors are smiling, as if they're all in on some private joke.

The steamed buns are cold by the time Baze decides to suspend looking. He bites into one, and has to close his eyes to keep from making an inelegant noise. He can't help the way his mouth waters, though. Bliss.

[idontneedluck]

Chirrut has work to do, now that he's settled on this plan, now that he knows how important it is to lift Baze up, even if it's just a little.

So Chirrut is trading. He trades in favors - he has a few owed to him, and uses those to garner favors from others, different ones, better ones, allowing a few of his gains to go astray when he can - the bao, for instance, and the (only slightly used!) gloves that Chirrut sends along with a promise to embroider the edges later, when they have time and thread to spare. He's still working up to his goal, but he has a path to it now, each successive trade becoming easier.

[iprotectyou]

And now Baze has gloves and a promise, but no Chirrut. This is... Interesting. What the hell is Chirrut up to? How is he getting all of this stuff?

Baze tucks the gloves into one of the many pockets he has on his jumpsuit, and continues making inroads on his food. He eats slowly--ever so slowly--savoring each bite and trying to make the bao last. It's not a good way to quiet his growling stomach, but he's not about to eat all the buns before he finds his ever elusive friend.

[idontneedluck]

Chirrut can be found perched on what was once a pedestal for a statue, torn down by the Empire. He looks inordinately pleased with himself as he sits, swinging his feet and waiting for Baze to find him again.

[iprotectyou]

Ah, there he is. Brat.

"Thank you for the gifts," Baze says, pressing a bao into his friend's hand. The larger Jedhan grabs a second serving for himself, and waits until Chirrut starts making inroads on his before taking any more bites of food.

"How did you do it?"

[idontneedluck]

"A little wheeling, a little dealing." Chirrut grins, biting into his bao with relish. "Just wait until dinner - then you'll be impressed."

[iprotectyou]

Baze stares at him. They get more than one meal today? Of course they do, it's their birthday, and Chirrut is made of magic. It's enough to being tears to Baze's eyes.

Now that he knows they'll be eating dinner, he scarfs down the second steamed bun. They're made with dried lotus seeds and dewback meat, his favorite, because Chirrut is amazing.

"How?" Baze says again, sucking flavor off his fingers. "Wheeling and dealing tells me nothing."

[idontneedluck]

"Well, Caton, you remember him, he runs his father's leatherworking stall, he's been reminding me that he owes me a favor." Chirrut explains, with a minimum of actually explaining how he got from there to dinner and snacks.

[iprotectyou]

"Bao, gloves, and dinner?" Baze says, tempted to count them off on his fingers, but he knows his friend can't see that dramatic gesture.

"Must have been a pretty big favor," Baze grumbles, pressing a second steamed bun into Chirrut's hand. Never mind that he hasn't finished the first; clearly it's time for a second. After all, Baze has had two, so there's an imbalance there.

"What's for dinner?"

[idontneedluck]

"No, fairly minor, actually. But I got him to promise to do a favor for Tantema, who has that little book stall, so then she owed me a favor." Chirrut explains, oh-so-helpfully. "And you'll find out when we get it, it'll be delivered to the apartment."

[iprotectyou]

"So you've basically been trading favors all morning?" Baze says, grudgingly impressed.

"I knew it; you're made of magic. Would that I was as productive; I spent the morning looking for you."

Baze levels a look at his friend. It's an intimidating look to be sure, one that could sear his nose hairs if Chirrut could actually see it. "You must be very proud of yourself, keeping me in suspense."

[idontneedluck]

"Of course your morning was productive - you found me, didn't you?" Chirrut asks, ignoring Baze's look despite how the Force tells him about it. "Were you hoping to find multiple of me?"

[iprotectyou]

Baze gives up. He can't stay annoyed at Chirrut for long. The larger man laughs, shaking his head.

"I don't think my heart can handle multiples of you," Baze says, nudging his friend. "Especially since they'd all be as secretive."

Hint, hint.

[idontneedluck]

Chirrut joins in the laughter, the sound pealing over the square.

"Tell me what you see." He demands, ignoring the hint entirely and leaning on his friend instead. He enjoys hearing about how Baze interprets the world, often full of sarcastic asides and observations that his senses just don't pick up.

[iprotectyou]

Baze snorts. "For starters, I see how it is. I also see a brat who needs to finish off his bao and tell his friend what they're having for dinner," Baze says, pressing another cold steamed bun into Chirrut's hands.

"And I see three more brats, one of whom is stealing some unsuspecting tourist's purse. I see the woman with that soup that's comprised of leftovers that she continually adds to, haggling with a different vendor. I see the tilemaker cheating on his wife with the bread seller."

[idontneedluck]

"The bread-seller? Drat, I thought it was the locksmith." Chirrut grumbles around a mouth of bao. "Or maybe it's also the locksmith. Where does he find the time?"

[iprotectyou]

"It's entirely possible that he's cheating with both the bread-seller and the locksmith," Baze says, scratching his beard.

"He's going to have a lot of angry people coming after his head soon, if he gets found out. That locksmith has a mean left hook."

[idontneedluck]

"What have you been doing to the poor locksmith? Doesn't he have enough on his plate?" Chirrut chides, laughingly.

[iprotectyou]

"I have never fought the 'poor' locksmith!" Baze says, wheezing with laughter. "He's kind to me, and I'm kind to him, too, though he charges too much for his services. I hear he fights in underground sparring matches for money, though. Not that I know anything about those."

[idontneedluck]

"Now there's a thought..." Chirrut grins, wolfishly. "Do you think they'd allow staves?"

[iprotectyou]

Baze disapproves of that grin, and those words, and this idea in general. He presses down on Chirrut's shoulder, not trying to force him to his knees, but trying to keep him in place.

"Don't you even think it," Baze says, his tone desert dry. "Don't you dare. For one, they'd have to allow the both of us at once, and you know I don't do hand-to-hand or staffwork anymore."

[idontneedluck]

Chirrut cackles at the sudden wave of disapproval.

"Alright, alright, I'll just continue to beat up Imperials for free, shall I?" He asks, keeping his voice down since he knows all types frequent the square.