Work Text:
Baze had made a lot of confessions in the years since Chirrut was brought to the Temple. Most of them had been for things Chirrut had goaded him into, or convinced him were a good idea at the time.
Baze was devout. He had been raised in the temple, by the temple. To omit his guilt was something he could not imagine doing. So he confessed.
Sometimes though he did lie. Those confessions were much harder.
When Chirrut went too far, or things went badly wrong, Baze took the brunt of the punishment. He knew the Masters would be easier on him than on Chirrut. They liked Baze. Chirrut was too smart for his own good. Too curious, too flighty, too rash. The Masters tried to rid him of it any way they could.
Baze liked Chirrut just as he was. He didn’t want the Masters to change him, selfish though the thought was. So he lied for Chirrut. Told the Masters that it had been his fault, his idea. He knew they saw through his lies but could not turn away his confessions without proof. Baze took the punishments with grace but shrugged off the idea that he should distance himself from Chirrut. They did not understand.
The hardest two confessions Baze Malbus ever made were also the simplest ones.
“I want you.” He said, running a thumb gently across Chirrut’s cheek. “I love you.”
When Chirrut threw himself into Baze’s arms, crying with joy and peppering his face with kisses, Baze knew that though those confessions had been the hardest they were also the most worthwhile.