Summary: Love isn't always easy or fair. To Damon it's stupid and pointless, but deep down that's not really how he feels. It's only what he tries to make himself believe so he doesn't have to deal with unrequited love. But is it really unrequited?

A/N: I did something completely different with this story! I wanted to a different style, so here it is.

He hadn't been looking for love. If anything he was as helplessly ignorant and blunt about it as any man could ever be. It didn't make sense, couldn't be taken apart and explained, so what was the point? If anything love was a gamble he didn't have time for or an interest in. Of course, fate was as likely as anything to do just the opposite because of that.

At first it had been a gigantic hassle: embarrassing, compromising and constantly causing him to run against the grain of his character, which usually felt like rubbing sandpaper across his face. Baird wasn't supposed to be trying to be nice. He wasn't supposed to take shit from Marcus. And he definitely wasn't supposed to blush when Sam started saying stupid, untrue things. Like how he ogled over Marcus and was jealous of Anya. She even asked him if he wondered what kind of caliber the sergeant was packing. He mentioned Sam was full of bullshit, right?

Of course, neglecting he had a hankering for a certain sergeant only made things worse. Funny how that worked… He tried to find any possible comprise for his inner "demon" just so he wouldn't want him. He tried flittering with a few women around just to get his desires pointed in a good direction, but that had flat out failed. Yeah, okay so the Baird-man needed to work on his romantic advances. So what? It was just a general fact that he's better at harassing then turning anyone on. A nice smack to the face was a clear reminder and warning of that. Bernie had cracked up real nice when she'd watched him get a solid punch.

The old goose wasn't laughing so hard when he started shoveling out hotheaded remarks. Like how he was certain she wanted to get into Hoffman's pants. A quick smack to the back of his head reminded him how the opposite sex could be dangerous sometimes (1*).

Bernie was reasonable, however. She somehow knew when something personal was up and let him get away with things he usually had to pay for later. It was apparent when Baird, who obviously had no interest in sexual affairs, started flirting with women he normally laughed off. Something was wrong.

Alright, so he wasn't the greatest at being stealthy with his internal problems sometimes.

Later on, when Bernie tried to get around to the nature of the problem, Baird was about as cooperative as a trying to get a rock to float. Talking to someone about it was a possibility Damon wouldn't even begin to consider. She could tell and offered him an opportunity to talk if he wanted. At the time the first thing that ran through his mind was: "Yeah, sure. Maybe when I'm dead."

If anything wanting Marcus was like poking an old wound that would never heal: half the reason his parents shipped him off to the C.O.G. was so they could "fix" they're son's little "problem". Assholes. He just wanted the feeling gone. Not that he ever wanted to follow his parents' wishes, but more that their wish to change his sexuality changed his perspective about love in general. All it did was hurt him throughout his life and get him tossed around as practically an outcast to his family.

As far as he was concerned love was just a bitch. It was a stupid, thoughtless, gambling garbage bag of emotions that tore people apart instead of brought them together. People did some of the dumbest things for it, only to get shit kicked in their faces. And even if love worked out in the end, it was the bitterest, shit-eating thing to lose.

Baird was certain he did not want that. In this hell, who'd wanted to fall in love? He'd guess the next day that special someone would be a bloody mess in a ditch somewhere.

And not to mention there were two other massive obstacle in the way of that a special someone he was trying not to fall in love with.

Firstly, Marcus already had the Anya breathing hot and heavy down his back. Alright, so maybe not like that, but come on it was obvious, right? While the Lieutenant's interest wasn't overwhelming, it was certainly clear enough for any bystander who had some common sense. Only Marcus seemed somehow unaware of the deeper reasons beyond her warm smiles and heartfelt eyes.

Secondly, what chance did Private Damon S. Baird have with the war hero Marcus Fenix? He wasn't going to brag-up the Sergeant with some stupid iconic role, but the guy kinda was a role model for the C.O.G. The things he did and the way he rolled was something that the others found strength in.

There was also the fact that he was an asshole to the guy. But that was pretty much second nature to Baird. He definitely wasn't going to take fault in the shit that came out of his mouth, because whoever got it probably deserved it. (Okay, so maybe Marcus mostly got it because Damon was a little jealous, but that was definitely beside the point. And he is definitely over Marcus' promotion.)

Thirdly (and perhaps the biggest reason), the likelihood of Marcus being gay was squat. It's a choice—to love another man, to love another woman. But somehow when you're the one attracted to the same sex, it seems like you're the only one in the world (or at least the only one around)… stuck in a little bubble afraid to look about, afraid to see if there's someone who feels the same. But there's always that hope—that trusting feeling—that someone else feels the same way. Someone else has to feel the same way.

The hard part is finding that person, and that person wanting you, too. Just because someone else has the same the sexual attraction, doesn't mean it's the same personal attraction. And the chances of Marcus actually wanting Damon were even lower. He had patience for the blonde's bullshit, but their relationship was barely even skin-deep. If anything, it was mostly professional with a small siding of personal. They cared about each other, but not even in a platonic way. It was more of a relationship built on respect and mutual goals, the kind built up in a squad—war's makeshift family.

So that's how it was. The excuses piled so high and his own personal walls so thick, Damon kept himself away from "stupid" love. But the mind can only try to forget what the heart feels not throw it away.

Feelings aren't like misbehaved accessories; they're personal and real. Whether one chooses to believe and follow them is opinionated and, really, quite irrelevant. The nature of their existence can't be changed, because you want it to. Though you can try not all things are as easily thrown away as tears and paper plates.

Like a hankering that could never be touched, a fire that refused to stop burning, or wings that could never soar, it was a wound on Damon's heart that refused to go away.

By the time Jacinto sunk, it was scar. Still an aching fever in his mind, but something he was learning to tolerate and ignore. Or at least he convinced himself. In his many attempts to ignore the reality of his sexuality's desires, he assured himself Anya was better for Marcus. As annoying as he frequently found her, she seemed to be able to get in touch with the steely sergeant like no one else could. If she could chip away at Fenix iceberg and get to the lonely heart beneath, all the better for him (all the better for Marcus, of course; don't kid yourself, Damon didn't want Marcus to fall in love with Anya that badly). A sincere negligence of his own nonexistent love life didn't make this assurance as easily accepted as he'd hoped.

Baird still hadn't wanted—was trying not—to fall in love when they were following the coast on barges on what felt to be an aimless journey. It was stupid his mind kept telling him. But his heart couldn't be farther apart.

It seemed like everyone wanted to fall in love or at least was open to the idea. Even if they thought they loved being a lone wolf, that having friends was good enough. Even if they knew the chances of staying alive were frighteningly slim. Maybe it's one of human's primitive desires that remain unchanged: the need to find a mate.

No, that wasn't Damon. He'd evolved. Love was for the suckers still groping for romantic dreams. He had a sexual appetite and that was it. Love was a gigantic hassle, remember? It was embarrassing, compromising… something about sandpaper against his face. He'd cast away the thought, having been a little too seasick to really care about finishing it.

When he'd lie on his small cot, listening to Cole's soft snoring he'd wondered if maybe it was the loneliness eating away at him. It was a horrible thing to contemplate, because he knew—and hated—that it meant he could never truly ignore his feelings for Marcus Fenix.

He'd flashback to Bernie's offering to talk so many months ago. Maybe he should have accepted it? She was with Hoffman on the mainland. Or maybe they were both dead. Nobody really knew. Either way, he'd spend many hours regretting deciding to stay with Delta. He hated being on the water almost all the time. He hated seeing Anya around Marcus so much. But he mostly hated himself for the way he felt. Why couldn't he control his feelings?

By this time Sam had completely dropped teasing him about Marcus. Maybe she thought Damon no longer felt the same way he had, or maybe she knew he was trying to forget Marcus. Either way, the jokes were a thing of the past. He was glad.

One night, after seeing Anya kiss Marcus' cheek, he'd thought about suicide. It was such a cold, lonely word, one he'd never even contemplated before. He knew it wouldn't be hard. With all his gear on, it wouldn't even be a struggle. The weight would take him beneath the surface and the water would fill his lungs with the kiss of death.

It was only the one night he'd thought about it. Probably because the last few years he'd been trying so hard to stay alive. It seemed stupid to kill himself when he'd come so far and had been so lucky.

Not too long afterwards, he wondered if it was cruel reality that the people who didn't really want to live, lived while the ones who had something to live for died. Thinking that made him truly question if he really wanted to live anymore. It was terrifying and interesting to realize he wouldn't be very upset to find out one day he was dying.

Then again, everyday it seemed like a little part of him was dying. He wouldn't be that surprising if he ran out of parts. The thought had somehow made him snort. He wasn't poetic, but that seemed strangely so. Cole had asked him what was so funny, but he couldn't say.

He was trying hard enough to act like typical smart-ass Baird. He didn't need his friends wondering if he was going crazy or getting depressed.

When the lambent stalks came out of the water, and locust attacked them it was the worst and best day Baird had had in a long time. It was the worst, because it was a real shitstorm. And he best because he could forget about his feelings for Marcus for a while. Of course, it didn't really help that he'd worried sincerely about the sergeant afterwards when they'd blown up the barge to kill the leviathan.

Damon carried that worry with him like a curse throughout the reminder of the war. Sure, Marcus had been in the shit only hundreds of time before, so it wasn't like he needed any special care. But being on the barge for almost two months must have softened something up in Damon, because he couldn't grasp that as well as he had before.

With Dom gone and his father dying only hours after they were finally united again, something in Marcus died for sure. He pushed Anya away and was even less talkative (something Damon thought hadn't really been possible). Somehow, amid that mess, Damon found himself being the one to "console" the detached sergeant. And console meant he snapped at the man for being so difficult. He wasn't sure why, but Marcus didn't push him away like he did to everyone else. For some reason, he seemed to think Damon could be the remedy for his ailment.

Damon's fragile heart was warmer than it had been in years. He wasn't really sure what he was supposed to do with this new sort of trust, but he tried his best not to let it get to his head. He was just being a good friend, he told himself. Only, Marcus and him had never really been friends. It was fascinating and wonderful actually being something to him.

Then everyone started to notice how close they were becoming. Anya was beginning to seem jealous. Sam's old jokes started popping up, and Cole would smile at Damon every once in a while in a way that the engineer couldn't comprehend. He didn't like it.

Moreover, he went too far one night without really noticing it. But Marcus must have noticed because he looked at Damon so strangely. That scared him. If anyone could clobber him into next week, it was Marcus. Then there was always the ruination of his (limited, but still realistic) social life and possible death in a dark alley one night.

It seemed ridiculous to think that unrequited love could be so dangerous, especially with a man he'd known for almost three years, but that was often the sickle-handed face of society. He tried to prepare himself for the worst.

Yet… yet things ended up a little differently than Baird had imaged they would. The following day Marcus showed he was not outright rejecting Damon's small advance. It was through small actions that seemed meaningless to anyone else, but were actually quite momentous to Damon. At first he didn't know what to think when he noticed them—which of course he noticed them. How could he not?

The man he'd been trying to get over for so long was suddenly opening up to him? Holy hell. When all he wanted to do was have something with Marcus, he wasn't sure what to do now that he was being given that chance. At first, he was afraid to do anything out of the normal. Maybe Marcus could change his mind.

He didn't change his mind, though. In fact, he seemed to be more assure of whatever decision he'd made. Damon was quick to learn that decision was to let feelings take their course.

It was a decision that went against the grain of his 'perfect' image of a gear's role model. What was left of their society was fragile and not particularly accepting. Even if there was nothing wrong with the way they felt, some people would inevitably disagree strongly enough to be encouraged into action—action the C.O.G. did not need.

It was unsaid the whole thing needed to remain a secret.

That didn't matter, though. To Damon, what felt most important was the fact that they were actually in love. As giddy as the word made him feel, he felt seriously contemplative when he thought about what he used to think love was. Embarrassing. Stupid. Worthless. But he realized he hated it because he hated how he couldn't find love when everyone else could. He was jealous, but too proud to have that sort of envy so he dressed it up as something else.

That didn't matter anymore, though: what matter was he found what he was looking for. In fact, nothing else mattered as much as knowing Marcus held him somewhere so special. The catastrophic damage the locust and lambent left behind was still weighty, but certainly doable now that he had something so grand to lighten his footsteps.

Damon smiles now. It would be one of many that aren't taunting after a smartass remark. Love definitely isn't as stupid as he'd thought after all.

Thank you for the reviews! Please remember these are just short stories put in chapters (new chapter, new story). They're short and fluffy, so they're not meant to be as meaningful as a full story. I'll keep updating as the ideas come rolling in. :) Sorry, this new addition is so late, btw. Hope everyone enjoyed ~