“I fear nothing,” Chirrut declares, standing on a literal soapbox, staff in hand. “All is as the Force wills it.”
“Funny, you seemed pretty fearful that time I tapped your shoulder while you were meditating,” Baze remarks, leaning against a pillar and polishing his blaster. Chirrut huffs, annoyed that Baze has ruined his moment.
“An unfortunate outlier,” he says, stepping down. Baze reaches out an instinctive hand to steady him as he does.
“My grandmother asked about you again,” Chirrut says off-handedly, rooting his staff in the ground.
“Oh, did she?” Baze replies, amused. “What did she say?”
“Just the usual –” Chirrut tilts his head backwards to caw in a shockingly good imitation of his grandmother’s voice. “When are you getting married?”
Baze laughs, leaning his head back against the wall. “It hasn’t even been a year yet.”
“Exactly what I said. But I suppose we’ve known each other much longer than that.”
Chirrut reaches out with his staff to find the box he was standing on and sits down on it, exhaling low and long. “Sit with me, Baze.”
Baze sinks to a crouch, slipping his blaster back into its holster. Across the courtyard, several other monks pass by, casting the two of them odd glances. “I have to say, I often don’t feel very welcome here.”
“Why is that?”
“Well, for one thing, I’m the only person not wearing robes,” Baze mutters. “And there’s that whole thing about you monks and how you feel about romantic attachments.”
“The exact word is ‘discouraged’, not ‘forbidden’.”
“Strongly discouraged,” Baze corrects. “You might be better off without me.”
“Never say that,” Chirrut says with a fierceness that makes Baze smile. “Now that I know what my life is like with you in it, I never want to be without you again.”
“Strong words,” Baze replies drily, although his smile softens and he moves closer to take Chirrut’s hand and twine their fingers together loosely. “You’re sure I’m not impeding your deep connection with the Force and all that it surrounds?”
Chirrut beams, looking amazingly content. “You remembered the words.”
“Ah, I couldn’t forget, after all those prayer meetings,” Baze says, leaning forward to plant a kiss on Chirrut’s cheek and rest his chin on Chirrut’s shoulder. “我最心爱的.”
“拜托, 别说这种话,” Chirrut mumbles, flustered.
“不喜欢吗?” Baze teases, his breath warm on Chirrut’s neck. Chirrut flushes and Baze laughs, delighted.
“太过分了,” Chirrut says.
Baze hums quietly. “My moon and stars –”
Chirrut’s staff hits him in the head before he can finish his sentence and Baze reels back, scrunching his nose up, as Chirrut chuckles.
“You could’ve just told me to stop,” Baze complains, rubbing his head.
“You could’ve told me again.”
“Is it my fault if you have trouble understanding my instructions the first time around?”
“I thought monks were supposed to be a peaceful kind.”
“What, you think we defend the temple with love and spirituality?” Chirrut says, snorting. “Please! Those things help, but sometimes you have to learn to fight.”
Baze thinks he might be physically incapable of staying annoyed at Chirrut for more than half a minute as he softens again at Chirrut’s grin. “Will you let me watch the next time you fight a horde of bandits looking to steal some Kyber Crystals for themselves?”
“I’ll save you front-row tickets,” Chirrut says airily, tightening his grip on Baze’s hand.