Grif sat on the bathroom floor looking at where his flesh meet Simmons'. He looked like fucking Frankenstein's monster for God's sake. Still, he couldn't be happier. He loved Simmons, but he was too scared to confess.

'Fucking pussy,' Grif thought as he held up the silver, blood-stained blade. 'You're too scared to confess, but you can do this. God I'm so weak!'

Just as he was about to make the first cut a knock came from the door and a voice he came to love filtered through, "Hurry up, Grif! We only have one bathroom, in case you forgot!"

Grif looked down at the blade resting against his flesh and then looked up at the door. He decided that he'd make one small cut and continue after Simmons was done. He pressed the blade to his skin and made a tiny cut. Relief swam through him seeing his flesh getting scarred, the useless parts of him. He was about to pull the blade out when a sudden knock jolted him. He jerked his arm and made a deep gash into his arm with the movement, which started to pool blood.

"Grif, I'm not kidding man!" Simmons called again.

Grif swore under his breath as he tried to stop the bleeding, but it seemed as if it would bleed forever. He hurriedly wrapped toilet paper around the gash and pressed his arm against his side.

He ran out the door and said over his shoulder, "Sorry, Simmons! Gotta go!"

Simmons grew worried as he watched Grif run down the hall. Grif spent a long time in the bathroom whenever he went, and every now and then he would be sporting a white bandage wound any of his own limbs. The odd thing was that Simmons' limbs that were sewed onto his body were completely untouched by the bandaging. Simmons had no idea what was going on with the orange soldier, but he hoped he would find out soon.

Simmons made his way into the bathroom to take a piss when he noticed something shiny on the ground. When he went to pick it up he saw that it was a blade and that it was tinted red. When he saw the red he immediately drew back, a million possibilities raced through his mind. Only one made sense though, and it didn't sit well in his stomach.

He quickly picked up the blade, making sure not the touch the blood, and quickly made his way to Grif's room. When he made it he heard rummaging and cursing coming through the door.

Simmons knocked on the door and heard a loud crash on the other side. He slowly opened the door to see what happened. In the middle of the room lay Grif, who had tripped on some clothes.

Simmons walked over to help him up. He noticed Grif was going to give him his right, dominate, hand but changed his mind and gave Simmons the left.

Instead of bringing him up right away, he asked, "What happened?"

"Look man, I don't know why you're here, but you should probably go. Sarge probably needs you for something. Like trying to kill me again," Grif answered.

Simmons grabbed Grif's forearm, but let go when he heard a pained hiss leave Grif's mouth and he pulled his arm to his chest.

Simmons looked into Grif's eyes and said, "That's why I'm here."

Grif looked at Simmons with complete confusion in his eyes. How could Simmons know about that?

Simmons gaze softened into concern and some other emotion Grif couldn't place. That look has never been pointed to him before. As he was contemplating, he noticed that Simmons was lifting up his hand and something was clutched in it. His eyes widened when he realized that it was the blade he was using not twenty minutes ago. He fell backwards and backed away from Simmons slightly. He was shaking and stuttering, trying to come up with a good excuse, but then Simmons spoke.

"Were you looking for this?"

Grif scrambled for an excuse, but landed lamely, and desperately, on, "There it is! Can't shave without that!"

Simmons eyes hardened like rocks, which made made Grif come clean. "Actually, the truth is, I use that to cut myself sometimes," Grif explained in a small voice and looking at the ground. He fiddled with his hands as he waited for more questions to follow.

"Why, Grif? Why would you do this?"

"Because I'm ugly."

"Is it because you look like Frankenstein's monster?" Simmons asked calmly.

"No, I'M ugly!" Grif emphasized.

"I don't understand."

"All of you is so beautiful," Grif tried to explain. "The pieces of you don't belong on me. They're too good for me."

"So you decided to cut your parts to pieces?" at Grif's nod Simmons sighed. "Fuck, Grif! Your are not ugly! You're beautiful! You deserve to live, even if that means you have to have my parts! You deserve them!"

"Why do you care?!" Grif shouted.

"Because I Love You!"

Grif shot his head up to Simmons and sat in shock for several long minutes. Tears poured down his face as he stared at Simmons in disbelief.

How could Simmons love the man who took his body parts and forced him to be a cyborg? His luck was never this good. For Fucks sake, he got thrown in with a squad who was always trying to kill him! Plus he is the laziest person in the entire canyon.

"You don't mean that," Grif whispered.

"Yes I do Grif! I have always loved you! I love you so much that I gave up some of my body parts to save you! My heart stopped when I saw you get hit!"

"No way," Grif said in disbelief. "No way am I that lucky. You guys just needed me for stress relief and to murder me yourselves."

Grif desperately grabbed his hair in a vice-like grip to try and wake himself up. He pulled and pulled, pulling a few hairs came out and small droplets of blood formed. He kept pulling until gentle hands pried his fingers loose. He looked up into Simmons' eyes, tears streaming down his face.

Simmons gently wiped away Grif's tears as he said, "I do love you. I love you so much that it physically hurts me when you talk about yourself that way."

Grif threw himself at Simmons and hesitantly whispered, "I love you too."

The End