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.

I blame an overworked mind and lack of sleep on this silliness. Enjoy.

Sports were invented for one purpose and one alone: to act as a median between males for the purposes of social and emotional bonding. Odd, isn't it?

"YOU LAME ASSES!!" I yelled at the top of my lungs, chucking an empty can of soda at the big screen in front of me. The Gotham Knights were down thirteen to none. It was one of the crappiest games they'd played to date.

"Watch your language," Bruce muttered as he tossed his can of beer in the general direction of the wastebasket. It missed horribly.

"Whatever," I responded flopping back against the blue beanbag on the floor. The room was littered with all manner of half eaten food substances, cans, bags, pieces of paper and three pizza boxes. Alfred would have had a coronary. "They're totally sucking today."

"That doesn't excuse your language."

"Ass isn't actually a bad word, you know," I said with a smirk. "Neither is bitch for that matter. They're in the dictionary. With actual definitions."

"How many times have you actually looked inside a dictionary Richard Grayson?"

"Twice: once to look up flatulent and once to point out that fuckhead was indeed a word used within the social groups of young adolescence. Mrs. Mathers kicked me out of class that day but I still got an A on the report."

If there was one thing Bruce could never argue or complain about, it was my grades. The only subject I really had any problems with was Speech and that was only because I was never awake long enough to participate.

For a minute, I thought Bruce was building up the rage to yell at me for using foul language in school. It remained so quiet that I even went so far as to crane my head backwards to look at him. What I saw was shocking to say the least.

Instead of anger, there was bemusement on Bruce's face, his shoulders shaking slightly with the laughter he was trying so desperately to contain. I couldn't believe it. I rolled onto my stomach and stared at him as if he'd gone completely insane and was thoroughly convinced that he had done just that.

"You … actually got away with that excuse!" Bruce finally burst out, tears streaming down his face from his seemingly uncontrolled mirth. I didn't actually have the capacity to respond with any kind of firm resolve.

"Y-yeah." Apparently that only made him laugh the harder because he kicked his feet out and threw his head back with peals of chuckles and hooting guffaws coming out of his mouth. It was an unusual sound really but one that was contagious in and of itself. I couldn't help but grin and chuckle with him until I, too, was guffawing right along with him.

"Something amusing about the mess you've both made?" Alfred said in a tight, disapproving tone from the doorway with his characteristic look of disgust at the condition of the room. The only answer he got was a snort from Bruce that sent us both into rolling giggles.

"Fuckhead is in the dictionary!" Bruce roared, still laughing uncontrollably.

"Indeed," Alfred said, shaking his head slightly. Who'd have thought a curse word would have been so funny?

Fuckhead is actually in the American Heritage Dictionary.