Baird's been losing himself in his imagination recently with thoughts beyond his control when it comes to Private Byrne. A look at the moments between Baird and Sam during the events of the third installment of the game. There just isn't enough of these two so I wrote this for entirely self fulfilling reasons but I hope others can enjoy.
Rated M for language, adult situations and lewd thoughts.
"So this is it, where all the magic happened huh? A place founded on years of tradition and jock strap sweat and it meant so much that these people have preserved it after all of this. You know, I'd say I'm almost impressed." Sam remarked as they stepped into the locker room of Thrashball champions, The Cougars. She watched her step as a few old banners still dotted the floor, incredibly faded and beaten but stepping on them none the less seemed as though it would be an offense to her fellow COG Cole and Sam liked Cole. He was a good drinking buddy besides Dizzy and had a similar taste in music as her, one of the only people she would ever trust enough to lend her collection of vintage soul and jazz music too.
"Stare in awe baby, this is a place where legends stood! Including myself number 83," chuckled the large former defensive line man. His eyes were washing over the lockers and he could recall a name with each one as he slowly walked the line to his own. Each one was a gravestone to a career and person no longer here and he didn't feel particularly happy about seeing his own.
"Funny, I bet whenever you remember yourself in a locker room it was on your knees huh Sam," Baird could not help but insert his unwanted two cents, nose and lips turning into a sneer. "This'll be a good change of pace for you, it's good to try new things."
The young female COG shot him one of those looks that only estrogen could manufacture and tossed her assault rifle back against her shoulder, mindful of the blades. Carmine had slipped in along side them but was mindful to avoid the direct line of soul shredding conversation the two were always at finding by detouring around a second row of lockers. Augustus Cole had gone silent as he lifted the small lever and opened up a world of unexpected memories, a time capsule preserved from an era that would always just be a memory. For that reason everyone else seemed to act a bit more respectful just the same and quelled their bickering and comments, this wasn't a locker room anymore it was a shrine to some still. Samantha started imagining the motivational posters that once lined the walls, now just outline and tack holes left to testify of them. She caught Baird staring too, but not at her or the walls but at Cole. From the corner of his eye the blonde corporal was observing his long time friend with what Sam could only believe was concern. It made her smile knowing not everyone was as shallow as they seemed and she stepped closer to him.
"You care for him don't you?" Private Byrne asked softly receiving a sharp stabbing look before the sentence was even finished. Quickly she assured, "I'm not mocking you Damon."
"Don't call me that, and yeah Cole and I…we go further back than I can remember sometimes. If anyone still deserves to have a statue of them standing it's that guy," he sighed his shoulders starting to sag and open up.
She was still smiling and it was obviously starting to make Baird uneasy., Sam wasn't known for a cheery disposition of all things and neither was he. Maybe that was why at that moment and time things seemed almost indescribably natural for the two.
"Why can't I call you by your first name? It's not like it's even a bad name like Pete or Carl," pressed Sam.
"Because Byrne, we're not on a first name basis." In reality he couldn't stand the way she said it with her accent. It was like a piece of candy on her tongue and he wanted to hear it more and more once she started.
His attitude was starting to wear the woman thin and her eyes rolled but she tried to stay positive. God that was a fucking impossibility. Baird looked over to the younger private and tried to keep his eyes from roaming as they were prone to when she was unaware. Despite everything he ever had and would say to her he was man, and she was a great visual addition to any situation. It didn't hurt she wasn't the worst with a pistol, rifle or bike either which was why he found himself constantly selling her short. Sooner or later Sam would realize that she was better than him at everything and he needed to delay that.
"If you're going to try and trade me for bacon, we're on a first name basis Damon, deal with it." She pointed out and stepped into his personal space. Their armored chests bumped and he was pushed into lockers behind him, pinned their by Sam and her sinful narrowed eyes. Her one free hand reached up to poke him in the breast bone area.
"Fuck bacon, I'd trade you for a spare tire at this point." Baird spat back. He made sure Cole was still occupied, leafing through an old playbook which made him feel a tad guilty for being so distracted from his buddy.
"Oh now Damon, don't be so sour," her lips pursed and she leaned in even further.
There was some unspoken rule of mutual attraction they had both silently decided to abide to and deny if ever accused of or asked about. She was like sand between his teeth, most noticeable when his molars where clenching and impossible to get it all out. Their armor was mutually thick, keeping a good seven or so inches between them in reality but unknowingly or not they pressed further into one another. His left hand held onto the Gorgon pistol he'd been forced to pick up along the way and his right grabbed her mesh covered hip, thumb digging in around the bone. Sam winced slightly in response to the pain, her brows furrowing in that way.
"If I could find a way to shut you up…" Baird romanced out loud, his eyelids starting to flutter shut.
"Da-a-a-mon," Samantha cooed in his ear.
His knees knocked and his grip tightened, the blood was leaving his head and heading South for the season. Baird was forced to take several deep breaths and remember the proper steps to dismantling a Rogue Carrier's Guidance system. Remove the bolts, set aside your panel and locate the four nodes before continuing, gently remove the nodes in a clockwise direction with her tongue curled…
"Damon…" she nuzzled his neck and dropped her gun so both hands could be free and roam over his shoulders, groping well toned biceps. "Damon, show me how you'd shut me up."
Oh fuck. Fuck me, fuck this. FUCK! His pulse was pounding as almost as hard as hard as his dick when he snapped out of it and realized that while Sam was standing closer than normal she wasn't pressing wantonly against him begging for him to rip off every last article of her clothing and cure her with his cock of all healing. Not that giving it a try wouldn't hurt for starters however he mused gaze flashing to her rack, b cups most likely. They were hidden pretty well underneath all her armor which explained the Corporals vivid imagination.
Just how long had his mind been wondering, Damon S. Baird wondered and covered his tracks, afraid his behavior had gone noticed.
"Go check on Carmine, we don't have time for this shit." He commanded. When Sam didn't budge he snapped. "NOW! Are you deaf?"
Sam's lips moved like she was about to say something, the wheels in her head obviously turning with steam powered hate. There was the perfect retort waiting but she held it back, obviously thinking better of the situation and turned on the balls of her feet. Her shoulder brushed against his, their eyes still locked before she finally stepped away. Once she was gone Baird was finally free to exhale and brush the sweat gathered on his forehead back and through his hair. He had to get his shit together. It felt like he was covered in tiny cracks and no matter how hard her fought it his sanity was slipping away, leaking out of his seams comically. Baird had himself convinced Samantha was just a vehicle for his imagination at this point, an incredibly erotic coping mechanism he'd developed. Cole had once jokingly referred to his love/hate relationship with the woman as an Oedipus complex, whatever that meant. Speaking of his friend, when he turned to check on him he was gone, locker left open and the door still swinging. Shit. How do you lose the Jolly Black Giant? This was all his fault, or all imaginary Sam's fault rather.
"Cole? Shit….COLE!" He took long steps, sprinting to the last place he'd seen his friend and looked around to find it was surprisingly quiet. Facing Baird was a picture, two smiling and very young men that had been taped on the inside of the locker door. One was obviously Augustus and the other looked like a coach. His coach. It was his high school football coach, the one Baird had heard Cole mention with only the most reverence on several exclusive moments. He wasn't sure why, but he grabbed the picture before heading towards the exit. On the other side of the middle row of lockers Clay Carmine and Samantha were both readying up, but he caught the sight of Clay's hand sympathetically perched on the small of her back and felt a flash of jealousy. Really? Carmine? Of course he chose to misdirect all his emotions and aggression to his teammates. "What the fuck are you waiting for? We need to find Cole! Crazy asshole…"
Baird took off in pursuit, sure the others would be not to far behind but he feared what they might be talking about in his absence and just what could have happened to his friend.