A/N This takes place in the same universe as my story "How Now, Batcow?" It's not a direct sequel - which I have decided WILL be forthcoming at some point (no promises when) - but it takes place anytime after the events of HNB. It's not necessary to read that story first, though, in order to enjoy this one.

I wrote this for the fyeahjaysteph April Tumblr prompt: Troublemakers.

My intention was for it to only be a humor piece... but Jay and Steph insisted on serving some lemons at the beginning. What could I do? I am but their humble scribe. Enjoy!

Troublemakers: The Dead Robins' MLM

"Babe," Batgirl said, landing next to Red Hood with a flying leap from the next rooftop over.

"What's up, Blondie?" he asked her with a grin.

Jason Todd was in the middle of patrol in Crime Alley and his fiancée Stephanie Brown was technically supposed to be on her own patrol on the east side of the city with Oracle on comms for backup, but Jason wasn't one to complain when his favorite person in the world showed up unexpectedly.

He wasn't one to pass up the opportunity to kiss her, either - or maybe work in some rooftop sex. It had been awhile since they'd connected in the suits and there was something about the chemistry of the masks and the adrenaline of patrol and the night air breezing around their bits and pieces of exposed skin…

Steph wasn't objecting to his gloved hands sliding down her back and over her curvy ass as his tongue worked its way deeper into her mouth, so Jason figured whatever had prompted her surprise visit wasn't an emergency. He was glad he'd only worn the domino tonight, he thought to himself as Steph moaned into him.

"Sit down," she ordered him breathily as she pulled her mouth away from his and pushed him backwards towards the ledge of the roof.

Jason smirked at her but did as ordered and groaned with pleasure as Steph immediately took advantage of his seated position to straddle his thigh and go back to making out with him as she ground against his muscular appendage.

"Fuck, baby," he murmured against her mouth as she rode him, little whines and whimpers escaping from her mouth as she got herself off.

Jason gripped her waist tight and kept her balanced against his leg as he began jiggling it up and down to increase her friction.

"Oh, hell, yeah," Steph wailed, aiming for quiet and not quite succeeding.

"God, you look so hot like this," Jason said to her as his pants grew even tighter from watching her and feeling her writhe against him.

Steph bit her lip and gripped Jason's shoulders hard, her gyrations getting frantic as she approached her climax. Jason's breathing was fast and heavy, too, and he leaned forward to kiss and suck at her neck as she climbed higher and higher until she shuddered into an explosion, quivering on top of his thigh as tears leaked out of her eyes from the intensity of her orgasm.

She moaned out a happy sigh as she finished, slumping forward to wrap her arms around Red Hood's neck as he tenderly stroked her back.

"Have I told you lately what a hot piece of ass you are?" Jason said to her.

"Say it again," Steph smiled against his shoulder.

"So unbelievably sexy," Jason murmured in her ear.

"Keep it coming," Steph grinned at him as she slid off of his leg and knelt in front of him, unbuckling his belt and undoing his pants to pull out his now painfully hard cock.

She teased him by only slipping the tip into her mouth at first as Jason's hands came up to gently hold her head, his thumbs lightly stroking over her cheeks as they maintained a heated eye contact with each other.

Steph swirled her tongue against his length as she took more of him into her mouth, adding lots of saliva as she began slowly stroking his cock in and out of her, enjoying the way that Jason twitched each time she popped her lips off over his ridge.

"Where are my compliments?" she teased him as he continued to caress her face with his hands.

"My bad," Jason said with a chuckle as she went back down on him, taking his whole length down her throat this time.

"Fuck," he muttered. "You give the best head I have ever gotten, baby," he murmured as she started bobbing up and down faster.

"Shit, Steph," he groaned as she played with her tongue, too, while she deep throated him again and again. She had one hand squeezed around the base of his cock but slipped the other under him to start gently playing with his balls, which were getting tighter and tighter as she continued her enthusiastic blow job.

Jason's compliments had turned to random babblings mixed with moans, which gave Steph a rush of satisfaction and pleasure as her man started to come undone and she hummed as she continued to suck him which only made his incoherent sounds increase in volume.

With a grunt, he pulled her off of his cock and moved her out of the way as he pumped himself a few quick times and shot his load all over the roof beside her.

"You are the best goddamn woman in the world," Jason sighed with absolute delight as he fastened his pants back up.

"Come here," he said, reaching his arms out for her.

Steph stood and straddled him, hanging her legs off of the building behind them as she wrapped her arms happily around his neck while he hugged her tightly into him.

"My patrol just got a thousand percent better," Jason said with a smile before giving her a kiss.

"Mine, too," Steph giggled. "Even though this isn't why I came over to find you."

"So tell me what's up," Jason said contentedly as he nuzzled her nose with his.

"Well," Steph said with some excitement. "Damian and Bruce had a fight -"

"- naturally," Jason sighed, " - naturally," Steph repeated a tad more glumly before continuing to the part that had wound her up.

"And Damian, being Damian, got a little vicious and left this drawing under Bruce's door," she said. "For him to find when he woke up."

She pulled her phone out of her Batbelt as Jason kept her balanced on his lap with his hands around her waist. Steph showed Jason a photo of a very artfully drawn cartoon robin - the bird, not the person - on its back with its legs up and its eyes x'd out. A little yellow cape lay sadly underneath the dead bird, who also sported a tiny green mask.

A grieving bat was crying its eyes out as it hung upside down from a tree branch over the deceased robin.

Jason choked.

"Right?" Steph said. "Bruce had a conniption when he saw it and said Damian's grounded and benched and internet privileges revoked, blah, blah, blah."

"What did Bruce do that prompted this masterpiece?" Jason said slowly.

Steph chewed her lip.

"I gather that he may have said something not entirely complimentary about the way you handled those child sex traffickers last week," she said cautiously.

Jason grunted.

He had shot the bastards. Shot them dead. Of course. And frankly, a quick death was more than they had deserved and Bruce damn well knew it. But would he admit it? Hell, no.

He'd just bitch about Red Hood's murderous ways and never acknowledge the fact that the justice system would have had those assholes back out on the streets in under a decade. As if that was justice.

"Damian didn't take too kindly to you being insulted," Steph said, a slow smile starting to appear on her face. "He informed me that his Father needed a reminder of what he had once lost so that he would learn to value what he didn't now deserve to have."

"Wow," Jason breathed out in awe. "The kid said all that to Bruce for me?" he said, genuinely touched.

"Yep," Steph said happily. "He loves you," she said, planting a kiss on Jason's cheek.

"I guess so," Jason smiled, squeezing her waist a little tighter. "He's a good kid."

"Yeah," Steph agreed. "Which is why I came up with the best plan ever."

"Which is…?" Jason said with an eager grin.

Because, truth be told, Steph was crazy when it came to ridiculous schemes. Crazy amazing. And Jason could not wait to hear what her latest idea was.

"Well," Steph said, bouncing on his lap a little bit in her eagerness, "Damian's grounded, right? And benched from patrol. But he still has to go to school," she said with a wicked smile.

"And B clearly hasn't learned his lesson," Steph said, "since he lost his shit and went off on Damian instead of thinking about little D's very excellent point about how lucky we all are to have you back," Steph said, leaning in to kiss him again.

"Not to mention that you gave those bastards exactly what they deserved," she said with a frown.

"I think I like where this is going," Jason said with a smile.

Steph beamed at him.

"I did a little research on getting images printed on clothing," Steph said, flipping to a different page on her phone.

"And, voilà!" she cried.

Jason stared at the screen. A slow chuckle started in his belly and turned into full out laughter as he saw Damian's Dead Robin image, minus the bat, positioned on the butt cheeks of a pair of men's briefs.

"We're gonna make those for Bruce?" he said. "That's fantastic."

"Oh, no, no," Steph said with delight. "Not for Bruce at all. We're going to create a multi-level marketing pyramid scheme and get all the kids at Damian's school selling them all over Gotham."

"Oh, my God," Jason said with reverence. "I'm marrying a genius. An evil, mad genius of justice."

Steph beamed at him with pride.

"I love you," she said adoringly.

"I love you, too, babe," Jason said, giving her a deep kiss to prove it.

"We can get women's bikini briefs, too," Steph said a minute later, showing him on her phone. "And kid's sizes. And we can customize the waistbands on both pairs to be red and even get different colored briefs."

"Such fine art deserves only the best finishing details," Jason nodded solemnly in agreement.

"I told Damian to start researching other MLM's so we can copy their format," Steph said to him.

"I thought he was grounded from the internet," Jason frowned.

Steph scoffed.

"As if he only has one phone," she said. "He's fine. Every good vigilante keeps backup technology lying around. Didn't they teach you that in the League of Assassins?" she said playfully.

Jason laughed.

"Not so much," he said. "But then again, I wasn't a minor child living with an overbearing father."

"You think that good grades will impress your parents?" Damian scoffed at his classmates in the school library, where they had ostensibly gathered for a group project.

"We all get straight A's," Damian said. "Thanks to the tutors that your parents pay for," he said derisively.

"But if you really want to impress mommy and daddy," he said with a wicked grin, "show them that you can be a successful business man - or woman - at the tender age of thirteen," he smirked, handing out his Dead Robin Undies multi-level marketing brochure.

Damian had protested at using the word 'tender' - in fact, he had a lot of problems with the entire recruitment script that Jason had written for him. But Steph had talked him into it.

"You can't show up and insult them all, Damian," she said practically. "I know they're your lessers," she said with not a trace of irony in her voice, although Jason, behind Damian's head, looked like he was about to turn purple from biting his tongue so hard.

"But you have to think strategically about this," Steph continued. "Think like an assassin," she said, lowering her voice dramatically to a whisper, "luring your prey in for the kill."

Jason began to cough, loudly. Or choke. It was hard to tell which.

"You may have a point, Stephanie Brown," Damian said, frowning in thought. "My classmates' inferior intellects will require a certain dumbing down of the marketing delivery, which Todd has indeed composed for me in a depressingly pedestrian style."

"Hey!" Jason glared at him. "Don't forget who's funding this little operation," he glowered.

Damian looked down his nose at him.

"Do not forget who defended you to Father," he said with great hauteur.

The two brothers stared at each other for a minute before Jason and Damian both blinked and thawed simultaneously.

"I did not mean to imply that you lacked intelligence, akhi," Damian sighed. "You are in fact a well-versed academic," he said.

"However, you are equally fluent in the common people's tongue and have therefore crafted an appropriately dim-witted appeal for participation that the ignoramuses at my school should devour like Grayson with a box of cereal."

"Thank you, habibi," Jason said graciously. "And I do appreciate you standing up for me to Pops," he said with a warmer smile and a heartfelt sincerity.

Damian gave him a tiny smile back and nodded before looking back over to Steph.

"Let us go over the script again," he said.

Back in the school library, Damian's classmates were looking at him dubiously.

"So what," his classmate George said, frowning as he pushed his glasses up. "We just have to sell product? That's not impressive," he said.

"Yeah, Damian," Alyssa said as she twirled a long strand of very blond hair. "Being a salesperson is the lowest level of the corporate tier," she said with a huge dose of attitude as she rolled her eyes at him.

"Being one salesperson, yes," Damian said with a gleam in his eye now that he had them on the hook. "But what about recruiting your own salesforce, managing your employees, distributing product based on market trends and supply and demand, and building a corporate structure that rewards those at the top exponentially more than those on the lowest rungs?"

His rich prep school classmates glanced at each other.

"It would look good on my résumé," Frances said slowly as the other students started nodding.

"Would you write us letters of recommendation for college when we succeed?" Robert asked Damian.

"Of course," Damian said grandly.

"What do we have to do?" George said briskly, flipping open his laptop so that he could take notes.

Damian heaved out a huge sigh of annoyance as Red Bull and Red Hood and Batgirl finished zip-tying the gang of muggers that they had just finished knocking out in Crime Alley.

"Another text," he said, pulling out his vibrating phone.

"The market is oversaturated," he read in a sing-song voice of belittlement. "I cannot move my product," he whined.

"Tell them that the key is to buy more product," Steph said breezily. "So that they have more undie varieties available for sale. And that they should recruit more sellers, because the more people they have under them selling, the more money that they make."

"I cannot believe that they do not realize the foolishness of this triangulated endeavor," Damian said with glee as he sent the text back.

"Pyramid scheme," Jason corrected him with a grin.

"As I said," Damian said absent-mindedly as he finished his text. "How much money have we made so far?" he asked them.

"As of last night," Steph said, "around five thousand in profits."

Damian snorted.

"It is quite enjoyable to take advantage of the feeble minded rich," he said with satisfaction.

"Plus, we're getting your artwork out there in the real world," Jason said. "You're a legit commercial artist now, Red Bull."

Damian smiled.

"Indeed," he said with pride. "And as Father has not yet discovered our product, all of Gotham may be wearing Dead Robin Undies in another few weeks," he cackled.

"And if he tries to ground you again," Steph said, "we'll sic Nightwing back on him."

Jason grinned, because Damian's initial grounding had lasted less than twenty-four hours due to a weepy Jason Todd calling his big brother Dick Grayson to bemoan the fact that Bruce didn't love him and had grounded Damian over such a lovingly drawn memorial piece.

"This is how Pops acts when someone offers me some love?" Jason had sniffed into the phone. "And to little D? He - he was only trying to help."

Jason's voice had cracked at that point while a widely grinning Steph gave him double thumbs up in their living room for his finely crafted dramatic performance.

"Shit, Jaybird," Dick had said with angsty grief over Bruce's callous treatment of his once-dead son Jason and of Dick's pseudo-son Damian, who Dick had parented for the two years that Bruce had been supposed dead.

"I'll take care of it," Dick had said firmly. "I promise."

Damian had been un-grounded and back on patrol the very next day thanks to Poppa Dick's intervention, and Bruce himself had even made a hesitant phone call to Jason.

"I… may have overreacted, son," Bruce had mumbled into the phone.

"Over the artwork or over the dead sex traffickers?" Jason said pointedly.

Bruce heaved out a massive sigh.

"Let's leave it at 'I'm sorry,'" he growled and got off the phone before he could slip and admit something that he intended to keep unsaid.

"He called, though," Steph had said, wrapping her arms around Jay's shoulders from behind in a warm hug. "And apologized. That's a big improvement."

"Yeah," Jason said, kissing her hands. "It is, actually."

"Ms. Brown? This is Ms. Lewis, Damian's homeroom teacher at Gotham Prep."

"This is Ms. Brown," Steph said in confusion, frowning at her phone, because why the hell was Damian's school calling her.

This was probably not good, she thought with a sinking feeling in her stomach. Yet she couldn't help but think that Damian, of all people, wouldn't rat her out for her part in the pyramid scheme. So what the fuck?

"Damian said that it would be easier to reach his nanny than his father today," Ms. Lewis said and Steph's jaw dropped and she clapped a hand over her mouth so she wouldn't giggle into the phone.

"I'm sure Mr. Wayne is a very busy man," Ms. Lewis was saying.

"Yes," Steph said soberly. "Yes, he is. Is there a problem?" she said, oozing concern out of her voice. "Is Damian sick? I can come pick him up if he's not feeling well," she said tenderly.

"No, it's nothing like that," Ms. Lewis said. She paused.

"It has come to my attention that Damian has been running a multi-level marketing scheme here at the school, which he has convinced a number of students to participate in. Needless to say, that raises certain… issues," the teacher said severely.

"Oh, my," Steph said. "You know what? I'm coming up to the school. I think we should talk about this in person," she said. "So that you can give me the whole story. I want to make sure I have all the details right so I can convey it to Mr. Wayne properly."

"That would be wonderful," Ms. Lewis breathed out in relief.

When Steph got to the school and had signed in for a visitor badge, she was escorted down to Ms. Lewis's room, who was in the middle of a class.

"Ms. Lewis? Ms. Brown is here to see you," the assistant headmaster said. "I'll watch your class for you so you can have a conference."

Steph mentally rolled her eyes, because she guessed that you got what you paid for. No way in hell would a teacher have been pulled out of their class at public school for a parent conference. Parents had to come before or after school and work around the teacher's schedule, not the other way around.

But when someone paid forty thousand dollars a year for tuition, she supposed that the person with the checkbook was always right.

Steph gave a huge sugary smile to Ms. Lewis.

"Could Damian join us as well?" Steph asked her. "I would like to ask him some questions, too."

"Of course," Ms. Lewis said. "He's in math right now. We'll get him on the way down to the conference room."

When Damian and Steph were seated in front of a very serious Ms. Lewis in the privacy of a conference room, Ms. Lewis slid a pair of teenaged sized men's briefs, Dead Robin side up, across the table to Steph, who raised her eyebrows and jumped back a little bit in her seat.

"Ms. Lewis!" she exclaimed in horror. "What is that? Are those clean? Why are you showing me underwear?"

"This is what Damian has been selling," Ms. Lewis said. "And inducing other students to sell for him."

Steph looked at Damian, who was keeping his face carefully schooled in a neutral expression.

"The student handbook does not forbid student-run entrepreneurial enterprises," he said to Stephanie.

She raised an eyebrow and looked to Ms. Lewis.

"Is that true?" Steph asked her.

Ms. Lewis appeared slightly flustered.

"I don't - we would have to check - it may not be explicitly spelled out, but -"

"But if it's not explicitly spelled out, then it's not forbidden, is it?" Steph asked her calmly.

"It is definitely against the rules," Ms. Lewis said firmly.

"Which rules?" Steph asked her, leaning forward a little bit. "If it was against a rule, then the rule should be in the handbook."

"And it is not," Damian said. "Naturally I consulted the rulebook before beginning my business."

Steph leaned back in her seat and crossed her arms.

"So you're accusing Damian of breaking rules that don't exist?" she asked Ms. Lewis sharply.

The teacher took a deep breath and slowly let it out.

"Ms. Brown," she said, carefully enunciating each word in her annoyance, "I'm sure that you would agree that selling underwear, specifically, regardless of what the handbook says or does not say, is a most inappropriate product line for children."

"Why?" Steph asked her coolly.

Ms. Lewis spluttered a little bit.

"This is a highly sexual product!" she said. "The art is on, well, the rearof the garments," she said.

"You think that this artwork is sexual?" Stephanie said in a horrified voice.

Damian followed her cue and dropped his jaw, opening his eyes wide.

"Ms. Lewis!" Steph said with disgust. "If you find dead robins sexual, then I must conclude that you are either into necrophilia or into bestiality, and you are most unfit to be teaching children!" Steph hissed.

"I need to speak to the headmaster about this," Steph said, standing up and reaching out a hand for Damian, who she pulled behind her to shield from his amoral teacher.

"Ms. Brown!" Ms. Lewis gasped. "I assure you that I do not have sex with animals!" she snapped.

"Necrophiliac, then," Steph said grimly, giving Damian a look.

"We should alert the Gotham Cemetery," Damian said somberly, "that we have found a suspect for the grave-robbing cases."

"Yes, we should," Steph nodded. "Come, Damian," she said, leading the way as they marched out of the conference room.

Damian snatched his underwear off of the table as they went, leaving a shell-shocked Ms. Lewis behind them, gulping with an open mouth like a fish.

Inside Steph's beat-up car, Damian cackled with glee as she sped out of the school parking lot.

"Your nanny, huh?" Steph giggled, giving him a high five. "That was inspired, D."

"Tt," said Damian. "It was nothing. I suppose that Father will hear about this, now, and our fun shall be over," he sighed.

Steph slid her eyes sideways to him as she drove.

"Maybe not," she said. "Your headmasters's gonna be shitting herself that Bruce Wayne is gonna sue the school and get your teacher fired," she smiled. "Bet you ten bucks they don't call him at all."

"Eh, no bet," Damian said thoughtfully. "I believe the odds are in your favor."

"Especially since private school teachers don't have a union," Steph smirked.

"We have a problem," Damian announced gravely to Jason and Stephanie. "A most unforeseen circumstance."

"What's up, Little D?" Jason said as he turned the quesadillas over on the stove.

Damian had come over to Jason and Stephanie's home in the Narrows to train with them and then jointly patrol under Oracle's watchful eyes and ears as he did twice a week. Normally, he was in a good mood and looked forward to spending time with his fellow Robins.

But tonight, he looked concerned.

"One of my classmates has succeeded a little too well in our triangular enterprise," Damian said.

He sighed morosely. Jason and Steph glanced at each other, then at Damian.

"I regret to inform you that one of Emily's subordinate's subordinate's subordinate sellers has some rather unfortunate connections," the youngest Wayne said.

"What's that mean?" Steph said, raising her eyebrow.

Damian looked her dead in the eye.

"Every inmate in Arkham Asylum is now the owner of at least one pair of Dead Robin Undies. Many inmates have the whole color set."

"No," Jason said, turning around to stare at Damian.

"Unfortunately, yes," Damian said, leaning his head forward to rest his chin in his hands on the kitchen counter, where he was perched on a red leather bar stool.

"And it is my understanding that the prisoners are zealously joyful in their celebratory exercises over the death of two Robins," Damian said. "Perhaps placing the graphics on the buttocks was an oversight," he mused.

"Well, you know what this means," Jason said very seriously, looking to Steph.

She nodded.

"Panty raid!" she yelled together with Jason as they high-fived each other.

An aghast Batman was, for once in his life, speechless as he stared at the three huge trashbags stuffed full of colorful underwear that the Arkham guards had waiting for him at the gate.

"The prisoners had these in their cells?" the Bat gaped at Dr. Arkham.

"And on their persons," Dr. Arkham said uncomfortably. "We had to perform a strip search of every inmate and toss their cells," he said.

"Red Hood and Batgirl and the little one, what's his name, Red Bull? They're looking into how the - articles - were smuggled into the asylum," Dr. Arkham said. "If it wasn't for the tip from their informant, we would have had no idea that these were being circulated, I'm afraid," the warden sighed.

"We'll have to revisit our security measures," he said glumly.

"Yes," Batman managed to grunt out.

"Of course, I assume that an inmate is behind this deplorable design," the psychiatrist said, sniffing his nose at Damian's Dead Robin drawing visible on the uppermost pair of undies in the garbage bag.

"That would be the logical explanation," Batman growled, feeling the beginnings of a migraine coming on.

"Well, I'll leave you to dispose of these as you see fit, Batman," Dr. Arkham said, relieved to pass the responsibility onto someone else, even if it was extremely awkward to dump three bags of underwear, not all clean, onto the vigilante whose own dead sidekicks were portrayed on their rumps.

But Red Hood had insisted that Batman be the one to pick up the underwear as he would want to go over each pair for clues as to their origins.

And Dr. Arkham, despite being the warden of some of the most dangerous inmates in the country, could not find it within himself to argue with a fiercely angry Red Hood. Who was being backed by a scowling Batgirl and by the new little one who, quite frankly, gave him the willies as he lowered his tiny red hooded bull horns at him in a most sinister manner.

Better to do as they said and let Batman handle it, Dr. Arkham had decided. At least Batman didn't use guns. Or gore people.

Bruce's headache had reached a ten by the time he pulled into the Batcave.

"Oh, Master Bruce," Alfred said, waiting for him as he exited the car.

"Alfred, we need to burn three bags of underwear," Bruce growled.

Alfred's eyebrows went up in shock.

"That seems quite unnecessary, sir," he said disapprovingly. "These drawers appear to be almost new. After a good washing, I shall donate them to the city homeless shelters," he said.

Bruce groaned.

"Then more people will be wearing them," he said.

"As one does with undergarments, sir," Alfred sniffed. "I should hope," he added under his breath, thinking of a certain Master Todd's proclivity to go combat.

Bruce sighed.

"I need an imitrex," he muttered. "I have a migraine."

"Of course, sir," Alfred said. "However, I must inform you that Master Damian's school called while you were out."

"Oh, dear God," Bruce mumbled to himself, shoulders slumping.

"It seems that young Master Damian has become quite the businessman," Alfred said, walking Bruce over to the medbay as he patted a soothing hand on the vigilante's back.

"How's that?" Bruce said, giving Alfred a worried and puzzled look.

Alfred tsk'd.

"It seems the young sir has created quite the pyramid scheme which he has cajoled his classmates into joining," the butler said.

"A pyramid scheme…?" Bruce said, his stomach sinking. This was worse than he had thought. The phone calls he was going to have to make to all the other parents… he felt his headache worsening at the thought.

"And apparently," Alfred said dryly, "Miss Stephanie has become Master Damian's nanny. It seems that she led one of his teachers to believe that the woman might become a person of interest in a grave-robbing case."

"Grave-robbing?" Bruce said weakly, his eyes getting bigger.

He groaned. God help him.

He never should have grounded Damian. His child was enough of a troublemaker on his own, but pair him with Steph? And back Steph with Jason?

"The next time I start to say something negative about Jason," Bruce said to Alfred, meeting his eyes with complete seriousness, "stuff a sock in my mouth."

"I believe a pair of Dead Robin Undies would be much more effective, sir," said Alfred.

The End (but wait, there's more!)

A/N Now with an Epilogue chapter, because several people wanted to know what Dick's reaction would be when he found out about the undies. Read on!