Normal disclaimers apply. Works are based on DC Comics and the creative imagination of Sean Hillman who has created D-Planet. Any characters that are not cannon or not directly credited to Sean are mine.

Please don't ask. I was in a very strange mood when I wrote this and anyone with children – regardless the age – knows that such things as this are bound to happen at least once in life if not and most likely more. Enjoy.

The game room in the manor had been designed for one purpose – total fun. It was a perfect end to a stressful day - - or the beginning of a fantastic night. Every amenity one could possibly want was in that room from games and tables to a fully stocked bar to a big screen TV that got every channel. It was a small paradise.

The house had been deserted since early morning. Dick was staying at a friend's house, Alfred was on his monthly old-person retreat and Bruce hadn't been laid in a week. Clothing had been torn off and dropped in a trail from the game room door to the large leather sofa in front of the big-screen TV. Moonlight spilled into the room from the floor-to-ceiling windows that lined the left wall, silhouetting the tangle of limbs that panted at the foot of the sofa.

Dinner had been rather boring, the movie sold out and both Bruce and Vicky were all too willing to ditch all of it in favor of a different kind of fun. The two had a very casual relationship: one that left them open for everything from a simple drink to a bedroom rendezvous. By the sounds in the room, it was quite obvious which they had decided on this night.

Dick merely sighed and shook his head in annoyance as he stood in the doorway, the shadows in front of him moving in obscene manners. There was nothing for it, he needed his wallet and he wasn't going to let Bruce and his woman-of-the-week deter him from his goal. So, quite calmly and very pointedly, he flicked the light on. The squeal that came from the woman was almost satisfying enough to make up for what he'd walked in on. Almost.

"Fuck…" Bruce grumbled in a low barking curse that was barely audible, desperately scrambling to find something to cover himself and Vicky with.

"That would be the crude term for what you're doing," Dick said flatly as he casually walked forward, circling over to the side table beside the sofa. "Hello, Vicky."

"Uhhhm… hi, Dick," she responded through a nervous quaver, her face quite firmly buried in the Chinese rug beneath her naked form.

"W-what are you doing here?" Bruce managed to stutter out, grabbing the fur throw on the back of the sofa to cover himself with. Vicky snatched a corner, rolling beneath it as if it would help the embarrassment she was already suffering.

Dick only tossed them both a flat glare as he plucked Vicky's panties off of his wallet and chucked them at Bruce's head. "Forgot my wallet."

The fur throw fell from Bruce's hands when his reflexes demanded that he catch the panties instead and he tried desperately to recover some of his privacy as his son turned on his heel, shaking his head the entire time. Dick was in no rush – he was either purposely drawing this out longer than necessary or really didn't care to join the other two in complete buffoonery.

"I'm so going to need therapy after this. Scarred for fucking life," Dick muttered, though it was loud enough to be heard, as he pocketed his wallet. "Next time lock the goddamned door. Bye, Vicky."

The poor woman only groaned as the door shut with a click. Only then did she risk a peek from her 'hiding spot', her face a shade of crimson that had not actually been classified yet.

"Oh God…" she said, still looking at the door. "Wow, I didn't think it was possible to be totally mortified by a thirteen-year-old. Ok …."

"That's because you don't live with him," Bruce groaned back, raising his hand to the bridge of his nose as he rolled onto his back once more. He was never going to hear the end of this. Ever.