Author's Notes: Don't be fooled by the multichapter and Les Mis quoting, this fic is pure unadulterated (or possibly quite adulterated, winkwinknudgenudge) nonsense. This is mostly me making fun of myself for how, because of my thing for redheads, the various Tullys and Tully-resembling Starks inevitably end up slutty as hell in my fics (er, this joke makes more sense on websites where I can post my porn), except since I don't exist in canon, that making fun gets deflected onto poor Cat instead. Soz Cat.

It's Robb's graduation party, that's the worst thing. Cat knows she brought it on herself, but still, they've spent so long organising this, and she's been stressed out of her mind trying to get everything right, and Robb's been stressed out of his mind worrying about her being so stressed, but anyway, it's done now, and they've got this lovely hall they've rented to themselves, and Cat can finally relax, and watch Ned make his speech.

He looks good up there. Maybe it's the lack of sleep and three glasses of wine that's getting to her, but still, Ned's decked out nicely for once; she made him go buy a new suit and get it properly tailored, and she knows Ned hates wearing suits but that doesn't mean they don't suit him, and then he starts to speak, and she's not really following what he's saying but god, his voice, she's always been so weak for that accent of his, and he knows it. Cat slouches over a podium as she watches, bosom over her folded arms, and idly she starts twirling the toothpick she has in her hand from a canape in her mouth, running it from one corner of her lips to the other, leaving it stained red, and the she hangs her mouth open and she grazes her lower lip with it. For a second, hers and Ned's eyes meet, and he looks away, flushing. She does the same when she realises what she must look like. For heaven's sake woman, what are you, sixteen? All your friends are here. It's Robb's graduation. It can wait until you get home.

That lasts until Ned finishes his speech and steps back off the podium, approaching her with a slightly shy look on his face. She should probably stand up straight and have a proper conversation with him, but instead she finds herself slouching over further, her cleavage spilling out more – this dress isn't that low-cut, but with breasts like hers it can be hard to hide – and Ned, darling that he is, never looks anywhere but her face. That's probably for the best. What's come over me all of a sudden? And could I not think of a better way to phrase that question? "So, how'd I do?" he asks, that gruff voice of his gone all soft and sotto and – oh, she is doomed.

"Good. Very good," she says, quietly – she does not purr, no matter what her ears are telling her – and Ned looks rather flattered, given it's his wife saying it. "I'm not just saying that. I think – I think you had all eyes in the room on you. You had charisma."

Charisma. That's one word for it. Ned looks very surprised to hear that. "Brandon was always the charismatic one," he mutters, and oh, okay, after two decades that's still not entirely stopped being awkward, but still Brandon's probably already got some nineteen-year-old classmate of Robb's in the back of his mid-life-crisis-mobile, so it probably doesn't matter. Ned seems a little embarrassed when he realises what he just said. "I mean – sorry, I shouldn't have–"

"Don't worry about it," Cat assures him, because really, she doesn't have time. She stares up at him and bites her lip – his long dark hair roughly tied back, his stubble only a few hours shaved and yet somehow back again, the muscles that are still strong and firm for his age barely hidden under his shirt, dark grey to match his eyes. Cat quickly comes to a conclusion of: oh fuck it. She will feel embarrassed about this later, but later is not right now. Right now, she wants, and she's never seen the point in being shy about what she wants.

Slowly, she stands up, straightening her spine – ow, her back hurts now – and comes closer to Ned, leaning up on her toes to embrace him. She wonders of anyone watching will wonder what she's doing, but she's fairly sure it looks innocent enough. Maybe they'll think she's drunk. "You looked good up there," she whispers in his ear, or as best she can – he is a bit taller than her. "I've been so busy getting this thing organised. I missed you. I didn't even realise I was doing it."

She can feel him stiffen against her like he's tempted, and she has to repress a smirk, but she knows it's going to take a little bit more than that. "Cat," he says carefully, "it's Robb's graduation. We can't leave..."

"I think he has," Cat replies, and she didn't even realise she'd noticed that; where is Robb? But she shakes the thought away. He's twenty-five, he can take care of himself. "But we don't have to leave. No-one would notice if we were in the bathroom for a few minutes..."

Ned's cock jumps in those lovely woollen slacks when she says that, and oh, she's definitely smirking now, even if she's also a little worried about stains. "Cat..."

But then she pulls back and – well, she doesn't pout, obviously, but she lets her eyes go wide and dark as she flutters her eyelids and bites her lip, for a second not caring at all what she looks like. Ned stares at her, and eventually lets out a sigh that's equal parts affection and arousal.

"Alright," he says, and Catelyn does her best not to grin. She chastely takes his hand, and when they walk off, no-one thinks a thing of it.

They almost make it to the bathrooms before she grabs him and kisses him senseless. Not quite, so if anyone sees them with their mouths smashed together as they stumble through one of the doors – she's not sure if it's the ladies' or gents', and since they're breaking the rules either way it probably doesn't matter – it will be very obvious what they're doing. But she doesn't think anyone does, because this corridor is pretty empty. Thank god.

Ned, for all his reticence, seems convinced by now; convinced enough that once they get through the door he can hoist her up by her thighs and wrap her legs around his waist, walking over across the room. She can't help but giggle as she lands on the edge of the sink, which quickly devolves into a moan once he breaks the kiss to nip and suck at the skin along her neck, and that might be tricky to cover up but she thinks she has a scarf in her handbag, so she allows it, throwing her head back and pressing herself up against him, fumbling for the buckle on his belt; she's eager, but really, they ought to do this quickly lest they get caught, and it would probably be safer doing this in one of the cubicles but she can't bring herself to pull away long enough to complain; god, she's so wet she's half-afraid she's going to ruin her knickers but then again, hopefully they won't be there very long, and she moans again as she feels his wide, strong hands making their way up her thighs, pushing her skirt out of the way, kneading against the wet fabric covering her and then she gets a moan in return–

That gives her pause. Hang on, she thinks. That didn't sound like Ned.

Reluctantly, she pushes him away. He looks bemused, but she presses a finger to her lips and for a second, they just listen. There it is. Moaning. Ah. Well there are a lot of people and quite a bit of liquor at this party; it's not that surprising that they wouldn't be the only ones who couldn't control themselves. Cat is just about to take Ned's hand and find somewhere else, since these two probably have the rights to this bathroom (leaving aside that legally, none of them have the right to be doing any of this), but then the moaning suddenly transforms into talking.

"Oh, you like that, do you?" Cat frowns. There's something familiar about that voice, but it's too quiet for her to really put a finger on. Ned looks horribly embarrassed and like he wants to just flee, but Cat can't help herself, her curiosity's been peaked. There's another one, this one a little louder, rougher, more desperate – and muffled. When she thinks about it, it's pretty easy to guess why. There's something familiar about that voice as well. "You like sucking my cock in the bathroom? Yeah you do. Everyone's out there talking about how good and pure and proper you are, probably wondering where you've gotten to so they can't say it to your face. What do you think they'd say if they knew what you get up to when they're not looking?"

Silently, Cat slides herself out from under Ned, to his rather anxious look, and starts creeping towards the cubicles. She doesn't know what she's doing, but she knows something's up, and when she reaches the third one along, that is definitely the one the noise is coming from. "Love it down your throat, don't you Stark? Love getting on your knees on the dirty floor." Gently, she raps her fingers on the door. "Fuck, baby, yeah, just like that–" and it swings right open, to her surprise. They weren't smart enough to lock the door? "–shit!"

Cat's eyes go wide. Theon Greyjoy. Robb's flatmate and best friend since he was a child, always to her slight consternation. She'd noticed he was missing, but she assumed he'd gone home with some girl already; that's what he usually does at these events. But she shouldn't be surprised. Getting a blowjob in the toilets at his best friend's party is exactly the sort of thing Theon would do.

"What, what is it, what's wrong?" says the boy on his knees, clearly not having noticed her presence, and oh no, not that voice. Then Theon worriedly flashes his eyes toward her, and the boy turns around, eyes going equally wide and face flushing even deeper when he sees.

"Mother?"

"Robb?!"

"Robb?" Oh fuck, Ned. Robb flushes even deeper as heavy footsteps come over, Ned looking on with confusion and concern, and Cat half wants to stop him somehow and spare Robb the embarrassment, but she has no idea what she could say. Robb might not be actively performing fellatio at this moment, but still, being on his knees with his lips wet and swollen, with Theon's prick barely a few inches away, it's pretty obvious what he's been up to. Ned immediately turns a matching colour once he sees. "Oh shit, sorry son, we'll just–"

"Wait, Mum, Dad, it's not–"

"Don't you dare say it's not what it looks like," Cat warns.

Robb lets out an irritated huff. "Fine," he says, finally getting to his feet (and Theon, finally accepting this blowjob is not going to continue, reluctantly starts putting his cock away). "But it's not what you think. Because I know, I know you're going to think this is all Theon's fault, that he pressured me into it, that I'd never do something like this but – no, it was my idea, I asked him for it, I practically begged–"

"Robb, you don't have to–"

"Yes, I do, Theon." Robb looks back at him with steel in his eyes, and something flickers across Theon's face, something soft and vulnerable she's never seen before. Cat wonders if maybe they've stumbled upon more than a blowjob in a public bathroom. "It was my idea, and I take full responsibility. So if there's anyone you should be angry at, anyone you should get in trouble, it's me."

Cat blinks. Did she think Theon must have pressured Robb into it? Yes, of course, that's the only reason she intervened – because she thought Robb might be in trouble, might be doing something he didn't really want to. Because she couldn't imagine Robb ever doing something so – so dirty – of his own volition, but according to him he did, and she doesn't think he's lying to her, and all of this is more than she ever wanted to think about her son's sex life.

As for being in trouble – well. Her first instinct is still to scream at Robb that he's grounded and forbid him from ever seeing Theon again, but given he's twenty-five and doesn't actually live with her anymore, she doubts how effective it would be. Besides, Robb doesn't seem likely to listen to this order to stay away from Theon any more than he did to the first nine. In hindsight, she probably should have seen this coming.

"You are an adult, Robb," she points out. "There's nothing really we can do to you here."

"We could tell the proprietors," Ned mutters.

"Yes, but then we're just going to lose our deposit, dear," Cat says. "Besides–"

She cuts off that sentence with a blush. No, she really doesn't need Theon Greyjoy to know about that. Unfortunately, he notices her blush, gets a puzzled look for a second, and then slowly, a smirk starts to spread across his face.

"Besides what, Mrs. Stark?" he grins, and Cat's flush deepens until she's the same colour as her son. "This is the men's bathroom. What are you doing here anyway?"

Cat's mouth hangs open, searching for some excuse, but nothing comes. Robb blinks for a second, and then his eyes go wide again, as if he just figured it out.

She turns to Ned. "You deal with it," she says, and he stares and stammers at her. She knows this is hardly the most responsible and mature way she could deal with the situation, and she might have to make it up to Ned later, but either way she walks out, needing to clean her brain a little. With alcohol, if at all possible.

However, once she makes it out of the men's rooms – and yes, she checks the sign and Theon wasn't lying, damn him – she sees Cersei Lannister, chatting to her brother and casually sipping a glass of white wine. She raises her eyebrows, and Catelyn flushes once again. Great, that's just what she needs.