#chirrutbaze

jedi-bird:

The thing that was hard to explain about the rain was what it meant. Chirrut had tried to explain it to Bodhi and Jyn once, but he knew that, while they claimed to understand, they failed to grasp the meaning. They only saw the rain; they couldn’t feel it like he could.

The way the air smelled right before a storm–full of anticipation, a heaviness that seemed to vibrate in waiting. The sound–full of chimes and rolling notes, creating a music unique and special with each storm. The feel–clean and crisp, cool as it rolled off a surface. When he was younger, he would often run outside to try and catch the rain–water from the tap, he said, was never as sweet or refreshing. There were times where he missed being able to see the rain; the way the drops traced the shapes of the leaves; the reflections that gathered light and color, creating newly minted worlds; the way it jumped and scattered as it fell. No, the others only saw the nuisance side of it. Bodhi fretted everytime he had to drive in it. Jyn complained whenever it interrupted her plans. Cassian would grow quiet, often disappearing into the solitude of his room until it passed and memories were left behind. Kay ignored it as he ignored all things that he deemed beneath him.

Only Baze knew what it meant to Chirrut. Baze, who would make sure to bring him an umbrella on the days he went outside to stand in a downpour. Baze, who would open the windows so he could listen no matter where he was in the house. Baze, who would meet him with a hot drink, who would silently sit beside him and just be. His Baze, who knew everything about him. Who could read his mind and moods. Who loved him unconditionally.

He was curled up in the window seat in their old apartment, eyes closed as he took in the sounds of the raindrops hitting the awning below them. His hands were tucked into the old blue sweater he wore, the one Baze said was the same color as his eyes. He stretched his toes closer to the screen.

“You’re going to catch a cold,” Baze rumbled as he walked up. Chirrut grinned and wiggled his toes, laughing as Baze sighed as he settled in beside him, handing him his favorite tea. “What do you see today?”

It was a question he always asked, curious and light; he would not be upset if he decided not to answer. He pondered the words, sipping slowly.

“It’s a spring rain. It’ll be good for the flowers the landlady planted last month. There will probably be a rainbow later. Oh, and that jerk downstairs left his car windows open again.” He sensed Baze’s eye roll. “What? If it bother you, you go tell him. I’m not going down there, he clearly doesn’t like me.”

“That’s because he caught you making faces at him.”

Chirrut shrugged, setting the mug aside and sitting up. He settled close to Baze, resting his head on his shoulder. “I do see one other thing.”

“And what’s that?”

“I see a handsome man telling me he loves me.”

“Should I be jealous?”

“Well, he is quite handsome.”

Baze hummed and pulled him closer. “And does this man do anything else?”

“That depends on how brave he is.”

Chirrut grinned as Baze pulled him into a kiss, arms wrapped tight around his shoulders. It was gentle and filled with the promise of many more to come. When he tried to pull away, Chirrut reached for his face, drawing him back in.

Outside, the rain continued to fall, providing a steady background song for the couple. This was Chirrut’s favorite part of the rain and the magic it invariably created.

This is what love was all about.

((So I wrote a thing. It’s not beta’d, and it’s also the first thing I’ve ever had the courage to share. Please enjoy.))