Siren (siren_kacho) wrote in yna,

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Paging Dr. Freud .... *Yaoi* PS: It is really long >_

Paging Dr. Freud

AUTHOR: Jay/dem. Contactable at


Dr. Robinson massaged the knots in his neck and stared at his crisp
cream-colored memo pad. He had to get rid of every single pad defiled by that Catalonia girl's profane doodlings (he didn't find necrophilia amusing in the least), so he had indulged a whim and bought fresh memos, personalized just for him. He admired the ornate "Dr. Robinson's Looney Bin Halfway House" at the top.

His next appointment would be walking through his doors in 5, 4, 3, 2...

The door clicked open and shut. Heero Yuy walked in, perfectly punctual, as always. Well, some people would say punctual. Others would say painfully anal retentive. But it made no difference to Dr. Robinson-- after all, he was here for the satisfaction of being paid-- Mr. Yuy was quite affluent, amassing funds from OZ, which in turn had amassed their fortune in quite the same way. But as he said, none of that mattered. His checks never bounced. Not even for that one
emergency three hour session last week. They'd made a breakthrough.

Heero had cried.

That is to say, he was crying in the inside. What Heero had actually done was draw out a gun from the depths of his spandex and aim the barrel at Dr. Robinson's head. But money speaks louder than actions. It said something like: chi-ching.

Heero perched himself onto the couch, and then grunting, lay down.

"It's happening again," he said, sighing.

Dr. Robinson folded his hands benevolently. "With Duo?"

"...yes. His perpetual lust is ruining our relationship... his constant
craving for... for..."

"Yes, Heero?"

"CHOCOLATE!" Heero's anguished wail rang in the room. "Do you
know how frickin' expensive Toblerone is in factory bulk size at department store price? Or how hard it is to get Godiva truffle stains out of spandex?"

Dr. Robinson's left cheek twitched, minutely. This was going to be one of those,


"...and puppy dogs, and kitties, and fuzzy happy things, and sunsets, and
grass, and the sky, and the stars, and walks on the beach, and pretty flowers, and interior decorating..." Duo happily spouted a long, long list.

Dr. Robinson said, "I see..." He flipped through his notes. "And
all of this makes you want to, as you put it, 'boink' Heero."

Duo shrugged. "Just about. Although, I'm pretty insatiable about chocolate too."

"Duo, do you think this might have something to do with your

Duo blinked, large violet eyes perplexed. "If a man loves Heero, sex, and chocolate, shouldn't his natural impulse be to combine all those things-- like, sex with Heero in chocolate?"

"How does Heero feel about this?"

"Oh, he never complains, unless he's the one stuck cleaning up. And I'm
pretty bombed after one of those sessions, lemme tell you."

Dr. Robinson made a note in his memo pad: NYMPHOMANIAC. It was underlined several times in red pen. "Have you ever considered seeking

Duo's jaw dropped. "For what?"

Dr. Robinson considered. "Becoming aroused when reading the dictionary
would qualify you as mentally disturbed."



"Once, he dragged me into a janitorial closet at the Smerchey's Chocolate Factory and screwed me, frankly, senseless..." Heero waved a hand, wearily."I knew it was a mistake: Duo in an enclosed area with large vats of chocolate. Have you ever gone skinny dipping in chocolate? It's an interesting experience."


Dr. Robinson stared at Trowa's one visible eye. Trowa continued, unperturbed.

"And that was the end of Fuzzy Bunny Lumpkins."


"I don't think you really hate women, do you Wufei?"

The Chinese boy fidgeted with his belt buckle. "...dunno."

"Now, Wufei..."


There was a long pause as Dr. Robinson pondered his net worth. "Wufei,
let's talk about your mother, okay?"

Wufei glanced at him balefully, a long-suffering look. "What does ma have to do with anything?" There was a slight defensive note in his voice.

Ah. Jackpot. Had the good doctor been alone, he would have folded his heads and whispered, "Excellent..."


He watched as Wufei finally crumpled at the base of the stuffed figure that was supposed to be his mother. He had glared, initially. Talked, a little. Screamed. Hit. Kicked. Bit. And finally, he lay curled in a little fetal ball blubbering, "I'm sorry I couldn't be the daughter you wanted..."

Dr. Robinson doodled little dollar signs. Maybe he'd get a new memo pad with those around the border.


"More tea?" Quatre offered.

Dr. Robinson declined. Why had that boy brought in his tea set?

Quatre's eyes tightened, just a minuscule amount. Hadn't Trowa had it his Pre-Zero Expression?

Uh-oh. Shouldn't he have pupils? He thought about Dorothy, uneasily.

Zero Expression finally settled onto Quatre's normally friendly face as he whispered, "Mr. Tea Cup won't like that. Mission: destroy."


"No," Dr. Robinson assured Trowa wearily. "The check will be

"I'm very sorry, doctor. But now you understand?"

"Yes." Dr. Robinson glanced down at his wheelchair. "I can
understand breaking my legs, but was forcing down that terrible concoction of
ginger root tea necessary?"

"He's very passionate about his tea," Trowa murmured, and then added:
"If he only extended that same passion to everything... what do you think, Doc?"

"I think you're a very complex young man, Trowa."

Trowa looked mournful. "No one understands me. It's like... I'm so sad
inside... but I'm a clown, you know? A SAD CLOWN." He looked triumphant.
"Probably the first in history."

There was an awkward silence. "Yes, Trowa... of course... now, let's
discuss your dreams..."

"I have a dream where I'm falling..."


Wufei had gone into regression. He was back in his "anger" phase.

"Thought you could break me, didn't you?" He hissed at the lumpy
figure hanging from the ceiling. "Thought you could marry me off to Meiran, wear the skirt in the relationship. WELL, CHANG WUFEI WEARS A SKIRT FOR NO ONE!"


"Yes," Treize said, tapping his fingers and looking at his therapist.
"And he came out in a little Catholic schoolgirl outfit, ruffled skirt and everything. But... Wufei looks great in fishnets."


"I blame your father," Dr. Robinson said. "He was impressing his
pacifist ideals on someone who was born to fight."

Zechs sighed in relief.


"I blame your mother," Dr. Robinson said. "She insisted on a
traditional hetero marriage in order to suppress your homosexual urges."

Wufei sighed in relief.


"I blame your detergent," Dr. Robinson said. "Schnide never gets
chocolate stains out."

Heero sighed in relief.


"And sawdust makes me want to boink Heero, and soft rock, and the smell of nailpolish, and Monet prints, and the smell of new paper, and food bars..." Duo kept rambling.

Dr. Robinson sighed in frustration.


"I'm really sorry about that, Dr. Robinson," Quatre said. "I just
get a little weird sometimes."

"It's okay," the doctor replied. "Now, let's try to delve into
this... tea fascination. Tell me about your life."

"Well, I was conceived in the year after colony 180..."


[five hours later]

"And as Rashid offered me my first hit of tea, I think I was hooked."

Suddenly, necrophilia was very funny. Dr. Robinson looked up from his doodle of Wufei wearing a schoolgirl outfit. He was drawing the lines for the fishnets.

"I'm afraid we're out of time. I'll see you next week, Mr. Winner."


"Once, he was waiting in the bathtub for me... he'd filled it to the brim with melted Godiva chocolate. Do you know what the dry cleaner's bill was? Atrocious!" Heero sounded disgusted. "I've taken to wearing browns so that the stains aren't as noticeable! Well, session's up... gotta go home, get boinked by Duo."

Dr. Robinson coughed. "Maybe you should introduce him to a new kink.
Like... say..." He glanced at his doodle. Wufei and Treize were dressed as Cleopatra and Anthony, reclining on an ornate couch. He emphasized the lines around Wufei's eyes: eyeliner. "Crossdressing?"

"I don't know," Heero said, doubtfully.

He sighed and looked at his *other* doodle. "How about necrophilia?"



"Yes, Heero?"

"What is necrophilia?"

Duo giggled madly. "Well, Hee-chan... I'd tell you, but then I'd have to kill you... and then, *you* know..."


"Of course I'm a natural blond!" Zechs' glare would have melted

"I can see your roots," Dr. Robinson deadpanned.

Zechs' burst into tears. "I was just trying to be a good son," he
said, tearfully.


"...and I'm falling, and falling, and falling, but there's no net under the tightrope to catch me..."


"Duo, your psychiatric evaluation came in."

"Cool! What does it say?"

"Well, you're a acarophiliac, achluophiliac, acousticophiliac..."


Dr. Robinson looked slightly perturbed. "Quatre, your affinity for gangster rap is beginning to... upset Trowa. Why is it that you need this new...persona?"

Quatre shifted the gold chains around his neck and sniffed. "Yo, biatch, I'm representin' the NEW COAST, yo, it's like, mergin' of da west siiiide and east siiiiide, and it's like, BIGGIE AND TUPAC LIVE! Yo."


"Watch yo' back, biatch."


"...apodysophiliac, apotemnophiliac, asphyxiaphiliac..."


"Duo enjoys WHAT?"

"Aanthropophagolagnia. Cannibalistic rape."


Wufei glared daggers at Treize. "You had to tell him about aspartame

Treize sighed. "Wufei, being covered with Equal and having you lick it off was initially amusing... but your frequent convulsions from aspartame poisoning are hardly erotic."

"Kisama! Fine! Don't you DARE complain if I get lovehandles, though!"


Duo sighed. "I do it because I never want our sex lives to be like Trowa's and Quatre's."

"What's that like?"

"You know, wham-bam-thank-you-very-much-ma'am." Duo paused.
"Although, it's become more interesting with the addition of those Tupac tapes."
"I see."


"...batrachophiliac, bromidrophiliac, brontophiliac, cheimaphiliac..."


"He's a staurophiliac too?!"


"What does that mean?"

"He gets aroused by crosses or crucifixes."

Heero paled.


"It is not wham-bam!" Trowa said indignantly. "I haven't been getting any at ALL for the last three months!"


"Quatre, if you don't want to help yourself, why are you here?"

"'Cause I'm the Big Poppa of Bling Bling, foo'!"


[five hours from initial reading]

"And finally, Mr. Maxwell, you're a zelophiliac."


"Mr. Maxwell..."

"Yeah, I know, I know: put it back in your pants."


Dr. Robinson filed away the last check in his drawer. Ah, early retirement fund... life was good.

He checked his clock and smiled.

The group session would be coming along in a few hours. He chuckled and picked up a pencil. Maybe that Catalonia girl was onto something. Doodling was certainly cathartic, and now that he thought about it...necrophilia was at least snicker-worthy.
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