The story continues and gets stranger. Hopefully better as well.
The Problem
"I dreamt about it." Heero spoke with little emotion. Duo arched his eyebrows and smirked.
"Really?" He ran his bare foot along Heero's leg. "How'd it go?" Duo gently slid his foot into Heero's crotch, trying to determine if his friend had found release. Heero impatiently pushed the foot away.
"The dream went fine." The Perfect Soldier glared harshly at Duo, but the voice didn't quite match. Unabashed, Duo continued to grin.
"So the dream did." Duo cocked his head to one side, considering the statement. "I guess the rest of 'it' isn't going as well?" Heero turned his head away and said nothing. Duo recognized this as an affirmation. "So what's wrong with 'it'?" Again Heero said nothing. "Damn it! I'm not Quatre. You have to tell me something!"
Heero started at Duo's outburst. He gave Duo an unreadable look; it lacked any major emotion but it was not the harsh glare of The Perfect Soldier.
"The death takes away from it." Aside from a slight emphasis on "it," the statement was devoid of all feeling.
"The Death? Just when are you doing it?" Duo teased, almost laughing out loud. "After each mission?"
"That is the time of greatest stress," replied The Perfect Soldier. "Therefore, it is when 'it' should be of optimum value."
"But the death takes away from it so you've come back to Death for help?" Duo placed his hand on Heero's shoulder and Heero turned his head to face him. The jeering grin directly contrasted the earnestness in Duo's eyes. "What can I do?"
"Show me something else." Heero stated, then with a plaintive tone, added "I'm sick of 'it'."
"I don't know what else you could do alone." Duo's eyes focused on a distant place Heero couldn't see, searching his memories for ideas.
"Then do it with me."