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One Night

Chapter Text

"This is insane."

"Do you want to stop?"



It began, Kurt later supposed, as naturally as anything that unnatural could begin. It started with a party, with friends, with booze—though not as much as one would expect—and it ended with something he could honestly say he had never imagined.

And he was not a stranger to his own imagination; he had spent a good two-thirds of his life imagining things. Fantasizing about things. Mostly they were innocent things: that his mother would come home, that his family would be whole, that Taylor would be found. As he grew older, the innocent fantasies of his childhood died away and more common, indecent ones took their place. Jane had always been a fixture, ever since she appeared, though in recent years he’d done his best to mentally wean himself off her. It was one thing to think about her when they had shared a brief flirtation, but it was a completely different thing when she was happily married to someone else.

He had cut himself off from her, but still, the remnants of that initial attraction never quite died. Over the past few years, he had learned to control it, to push it away.

But sometimes it was hard to have discipline. Sometimes he found himself staring at the classified pictures of her at his desk, during late nights in the office after everyone else had gone home. Sometimes he found himself looking after her and her husband as they left parties or group dinners, wondering what they were going to do with the rest of their night.

Kurt had been wary when they’d gotten married two years ago, but the skepticism had faded with time. Oscar had stopped being a mysterious character from her past (weeks of relentless interrogation helped on that front), and after a while, he stopped being a fling, too—if he ever had been. Kurt had been surprised, just like everyone else at the Bureau, when he’d first seen the ring on Jane’s left hand, but with that surprise had also come a wave of understanding: so this was it.

Privately, he had mourned her. Their romantic relationship—short as it was—had been over for years at that point, but he supposed part of him had always held out a little hope. But it was snuffed out—first by that diamond ring, and then, just a few months later, by that gold ring.

He had been even more surprised to see that ring—and to hear that Oscar and Jane had gotten married with nothing more than a simple civil ceremony before a city judge. There were no flowers, no white dress, no church, no crowd of cheering admirers. It had seemed so strange at the time, but the more Kurt got to know Jane and Oscar, the more it made sense.

They were an intensely private couple. Kurt supposed it was to be expected, after having their entire relationship put under a hundred different Bureau microscopes, including his own, but he was still surprised by the lengths the two of them went to to guard their love. They were never flamboyant about their relationship in public, and even in their own home, it seemed, they were restrained. This night, for instance: Kurt had been at Jane and Oscar’s house for the last four hours, and he had only seen them kiss twice.

As he sat on their couch and swallowed the last of yet another scotch, he wondered if they were doing it on purpose: were they being thoughtful of his past with Jane, or were they simply this private, even in their own home? To look around their apartment, he wouldn’t think so. The walls were covered with framed pictures of the couple: at different spots around New York City; in Chicago, where Oscar had grown up; and even abroad, on the belated honeymoon trip they’d taken to France six months after they’d gotten married.

Looking at the pictures reminded Kurt of all he didn’t know about them—that trip to Chicago, for instance. He had still been good friends with Jane when she and Oscar had gone on that trip, and yet Kurt had had no idea Oscar had even existed at that point, let alone that he was rapidly becoming a central figure in her life. He found out through interrogations later, of course, and the knowledge that Jane had had someone else all the while had been a sharp, unwelcome surprise.

But the hurt feelings and the jealousy had faded over time. Kurt actually rather liked Oscar, to tell the truth. The men were too similar for Kurt to dislike him outright, and to resent him simply because Jane loved him was grossly hypocritical. And so Kurt had done his best to keep an open mind, and in return, he had been quietly, consistently rewarded.

Over the past few years, ever since he’d shown up at the FBI to turn himself in with Jane at his side, Oscar had proven himself: not only to the FBI, who eventually dropped charges and released him, but to everyone in Jane’s life, and especially to Kurt. Oscar never went out of his way to do so—he was not the showy type—but Kurt knew Oscar was a good man by the way he treated Jane. He knew they had a good marriage by how untroubled she looked these days, and by how easily her smiles came. She had been through enough, and she deserved a calm and joyful life with someone she loved.

Still… It didn’t stop his curiosity.

Kurt wondered things about them, sometimes. Quiet thoughts that he kept entirely to himself and never mentioned to anyone. He wondered what they did together when they were alone. He wondered after their sex life. He wondered if they were ever going to have children.

As he sat on their couch and stared at the pictures on the walls, he found himself thinking absentmindedly that Jane and Oscar were a very good-looking couple, and they would probably have very beautiful children if they ever got around to it. He was still thinking that when Jane plopped down on the couch beside him and poked his shoulder.

“Hey. What’re you brooding about over here all by yourself?”

Kurt shook his head, laughing at the moment. “Nothing, nothing.”

When she wheedled him with an Oh, come on, he sighed and leaned back against the couch. He turned his head towards her, smiling when he saw her curled up on the next cushion, her legs tucked under her like always. She used to sit like that, he remembered, when he used to visit her at her safe house in the early days. Legs tucked under her, hair hiding her face, body half turned into the side of the couch. Scared. So scared.

But she wasn’t scared anymore.

She was smiling now, her green eyes bright with teasing, with friendliness. Over her shoulder, Kurt caught a glimpse of her husband through the cutout in the kitchen as he moved around, cleaning things up from the party. Slowly, Kurt looked around and realized no one else was here. He didn’t know how or when that had happened. He was never the last guest at Jane and Oscar’s place.

“I was thinking… I was thinking that I’m happy for you,” Kurt told Jane, his gaze falling back to her face as he remembered her question. “You’ve found your way. And you’ve got a nice life here.”

She smiled, glancing down to her hands. They were wrapped around a beer in her lap, but he knew what her gaze was lingering on. He watched as she brushed the fingertips of her right hand reverently against the sides of her wedding and engagement rings. “I do have a nice life, don’t I?”

“Mm-hm, very nice.”

She smiled again at the compliment, then took a draw on her beer.

“I do miss some things, though,” she said after a moment.


Kurt was surprised to hear this. Jane had achieved what they all secretly wanted: a quiet, calm life outside the FBI. She had a steady job that both paid the bills and didn’t involve getting shot at; she had a comfortable home; she had a husband that adored her.

“What do you miss?” Kurt couldn’t help but ask.

“Work, mostly,” she confessed with a guilty smile. “The adrenaline, the Bureau, the team. You.”

He blinked at the last one, feeling an involuntary smile take shape on his face before he saw the mournful look on hers.

“You don’t come by much anymore,” she said quietly, her eyes downcast, as if she were the one with something to apologize for.

“I…” Kurt tried to come up with something to say, but there wasn’t anything. He had no excuse.

“I know it’s different, with me being married,” she whispered. “I know all of that… came out of left field for you. And with how we were before, I understand that, for you, it’s been… difficult to adjust. But you can still be a part of my life, Kurt. I’d like you to be a part of my life.”

It was embarrassing just how good it made him feel to hear her say that. “In what way?” he asked.

“Any way you want.”

She smiled as she answered, and he smiled back, relieved—but also a little dumbfounded. Even after all these years of knowing her, he still didn’t understand how she functioned in this world they lived in. She was too kind, too good; she was always looking out for others, always accommodating others over herself, so much so that sometimes—like now—he didn’t know what to say in response. He didn’t know how to act in the face of such selflessness. He wondered if he ever would.

“Speaking of,” she continued softly, “I just wanted to say thank you for coming tonight, to the party. I, um, I wasn’t sure if you’d show.”

“It’s your birthday,” he reminded her, but she looked away and demurred, like that wasn’t a factor of any importance.

He watched her sadly, wondering how in the world they’d gotten to this point. It felt like not that long ago that they’d each counted each other among their best and closest friends. And yet now, she had hope that he’d so much as show up to her birthday party?

How had they drifted this far apart? How had they let it get this bad?


She looked up when he called her name, and the nervousness in her face hit him like a punch to the head. It wouldn’t be enough to reassure her with simple platitudes, he knew. She needed more; she needed to know that he wasn’t going anywhere, know that he still cared for her. That he always would.

She had looked at him similarly, so long ago. Or perhaps not so long ago. As he lost himself in the memory of that time, in that moment outside his apartment, the noises around him quieted. The sounds of her husband in the kitchen had gone silent; perhaps Oscar had left the room for a moment. Kurt wasn’t sure, but neither did he need to know. This was between him and Jane and all they had shared, and he couldn’t help but think, as he looked at her, that she was remembering what he was remembering. He could swear she was… waiting for it.

He bent towards her, just a degree. He watched her eyes widen at the proximity, and flicker down—to his mouth?—before flying back up. Her lips were parting, she was about to say something, but he didn’t need to hear it. He could taste her breath between them as he knew she could taste his, and he didn’t hesitate. He didn’t think. He could feel scotch he’d been drinking all night roiling in his belly, propelling him forward, and he didn’t fight the impulse. He wanted her. He had always wanted her, would always want her. Why had he ever tried to pretend otherwise?

He was sober enough to remember as he bent towards her that she was married, but drunk enough that he convinced himself it didn’t matter. Awful enough that he was able to tell himself It’s just a kiss—as if that somehow made it acceptable. Single-minded enough that when he felt her freeze beneath his lips, he did not take it as a cue to stop, but instead to continue.

It wasn’t until Oscar cleared his throat that Kurt even remembered where he was.

“I can take a few laps around the block if you two need some privacy here.”

Kurt jerked away from Jane at the sound of her husband’s voice, his eyes flying open as his mouth spilled excuses like water from a burst pipe.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized at once, scrambling to his feet so fast he almost tripped over himself in his rush to run from the room. “I’m so sorry, I have no idea what I was—I didn’t mean to—I wasn't—”

He was spouting nonsense, he knew, but it didn’t matter. He was halfway to the door, he was so close, he was—


Kurt froze at the sound of Oscar’s voice. He shut his eyes, waiting for the yelling, waiting for the punch. He deserved it, he knew. He deserved a beating for coming on to another man’s wife so unashamedly like that.

“No need for you to run out so fast.”

Kurt made himself turn around. Oscar was still standing by the kitchen, leaning against the wall there, calm as could be. Though Kurt knew it was irrational, he couldn’t stamp down the immediate thought that came to his mind: that Oscar was going to pull a gun or a knife or some other sort of weapon. Kurt had been at too many crime scenes involving adulterers. And he was still waiting for that first punch to land.

“Look, Oscar, you have every right to beat the shit out of me—”

Oscar laughed, pushing himself off the wall and taking a few steps into the room. “I’m not gonna beat the shit out of you, Kurt. Jesus, you think I’m that insecure?” He shot a glance at his wife, and though Kurt looked over at her, whatever passed between them was too quick, too private, for him to decipher. All he saw was Jane’s eyes flicker between the two of them, and then he felt Oscar’s settle.

“My marriage would not have survived this long if I got violent with any and every man that came on to my wife.”

“I’m not any man.”

Kurt didn’t know what made him say the words, but he knew they were true. They all did. And they couldn’t be taken back.

“No,” Oscar agreed quietly after a moment. “I guess you’re not.”

Kurt stood and waited, still braced for the attack he imagined, despite what Oscar had said, despite the fact that there were a good ten feet between them. He did not relax when he saw Jane get to her feet; he tracked her anxiously as she walked over to her husband and stood up on her tiptoes to whisper something in his ear. It was too quiet for Kurt to hear, but he strained anyway; he couldn’t help himself.

He picked up nothing—nothing except the way Oscar’s arm rose automatically to wrap around Jane’s back, and the little circles he drew with his thumb against the back of her dress as she leaned into him. Kurt remembered a minute ago when he had been the one leaning into her, kissing her, and he wished he could go back and live forever in that moment. He wished he could erase it from his mind permanently. He wanted to be the one holding Jane, the one soothing her with gentle touches. He wanted her out of his damn head.

Oscar’s quiet laughter brought him back. His whisper was louder than Jane’s, so Kurt could catch a couple words.

“Really?” Oscar asked, chuckling still, glancing to Kurt. And then back to his wife, “You wanna bet?”

When she nodded her assent, and fell back on her heels, he smiled down at her, shaking his head a little as if disbelieving of whatever she was peddling.

“Well, all right then,” he said finally. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”

Then he bent forward and took her face in his hands, ducking down to capture her lips fiercely with his. Kurt watched from across the room, not knowing what he was doing or what he was supposed to be doing, as Jane fisted her hands in her husband’s hair and drew him flush to her. Kurt was just thinking he should look away, should take whatever this interaction was as an opportunity to slip out undetected, when they broke their kiss. And then Jane turned to him.

She stepped towards him so deliberately that Kurt couldn’t help it: he backed away in fear. She was going to hit him. He knew that now: it wasn’t Oscar who was going to beat the hell out of him, it was Jane. Of course it was Jane. She didn’t need her husband to fight her battles for her; she was more than capable. Too capable.

Watching her move ever steadily towards him, Kurt wanted nothing more than to run out the door, but he knew he had to stand his ground here and take it. She deserved to land a punch—maybe several. He was bracing himself for the impact of her fist—God, that diamond ring on her left hand was going to hurt like hell—when instead he was met with her lips.

The feel of her mouth on his was so harsh—almost violent—that if he hadn’t had his eyes open, he would not have believed that it was her kissing him. He actually stumbled backward a couple steps beneath the force of her lips, but she didn’t let him go. He could feel her hands, running through his hair, against his cheeks, around his neck, but before he could think to touch her back she had pulled away.

“Still want me, Kurt?” she whispered, stepping back.

He stared at her, stunned into silence. He could feel his heart hammering in his chest, and it was making it hard for him to focus on what was happening. As if in slow motion, he watched as Jane backed away and came to a stop in the middle of the room, between the two of them. Kurt, on one side; Oscar, on the other; and Jane, lingering somewhere just in between. It didn’t take Kurt more than a moment to understand what she was getting at.

“You're… not serious,” he managed, his eyes skipping from one to the other as the idea settled into place and then exploded in the forefront of his mind. “You can’t possibly be serious.”

“Not if you don’t want us to be,” Oscar replied. “But…” He shrugged, leaning back against the kitchen wall again. “It’s her birthday. And between you and me—or us three, I should say—this is maybe not the first time she’s mentioned it. With what happened before, I figure it’s rare there’ll be a better opportunity…”

“How drunk are you right now?” Kurt interrupted.

Oscar blinked, taken off-guard. “What?”

“I know how private you two are, I know what you’ve been through together—you have to be drunk to be on board with this. How drunk are you, Brenton? What are you on?”

Oscar smiled briefly, catching on with a laugh. “I don’t think you really want me to answer that, Kurt. But if it makes you feel better, we can all pretend we’re hammered. Or we can get hammered—though results may prove unsatisfactory, as I’m sure you can imagine.” He glanced at his wife. “But I suppose that’s Janie’s call, isn’t it, seeing as she’d be on the receiving end…”

Jane grinned at the blatant implication, but Kurt was having a hard time keeping up. Every word Oscar was saying was plain English, but strung together, it all sounded like gibberish. It had to be gibberish. In all the years Kurt had known him, he had never heard Oscar make so much as a casual dirty joke before, and now he was proposing sexual escapades between the three of them? No. This was insane. It was some kind of trick. Some twisted, sick joke. It was the two of them getting back at him for intruding on their marriage.

Or maybe it was something else.

For a minute, they both stared at him, waiting calmly, and Kurt stood there staring back, attempting to quiet the ever-increasing thump of his heart. He didn’t know how serious this was, but he did know that the time for the punchline had long passed. He also knew that Jane couldn’t keep a straight face to save her life—if there was a joke here, she would’ve already given it away. Kurt’s eyes flickered between the two of them before eventually settling on Oscar. Somehow it was easier to talk about this without looking at Jane.

“You’re married,” was all he could think to say.

“Yeah, and I don’t exactly see us getting divorced over this, do you?” Oscar replied with a droll little half-smile. “A consensual threesome is kind of small potatoes compared to the other shit we’ve been through. You do remember all those months we spent in prison, right? You sat across from me the whole time, Kurt—come on, you have to remember. I was in chains. You held my life in your hands. Starting to ring a bell?”

Kurt shook his head. He couldn’t think about that right now. He couldn’t think about anything.

For what felt like the first time in a long time, he looked at Jane. Really looked at her. She did not blink, did not blush, did not look away. She met him eye for eye, as always.

“Why are you doing this?” he whispered.

“You’ve got your fantasies, Kurt.” She tipped her head at her husband. “He’s got his. Am I not allowed mine?”

“Of course, but—”

“But nothing,” she snapped, interrupting his would-be double standard, and for a second, he was transported back to the old days. For a second, they weren’t standing in her living room discussing the pros and cons of a threesome, they were arguing about field tactics in the armory. They were choosing weapons, staking out routes of entry and exit. She was pushing for more, as always.

But he didn’t call the shots anymore. He didn’t give orders. At least not to her.

“You started this, remember,” Jane continued firmly. “Don’t forget that: you kissed me, Kurt. In my own home. In front of my husband. Without my consent.”

His gut twisted painfully at the reminder. “Jane, look, I said I was sorr—”

“You knew what you were doing,” she interrupted, raising her voice above his. “You knew what you wanted, and now here’s what I want. I’ll save you the trouble and tell you right now that you’re only ever going to get this on my terms. So if you can’t handle that, then you can leave now, and we don’t ever have to talk about this again. You can try and forget it… Or you can stay, and we can take this to its logical conclusion. Your choice.”

Kurt shut his eyes. He could feel the twin desires pulling him in different directions. He wanted her, there was no question about that, never had been. But he also wanted to run, to leave. He wanted to step out that door and never speak of this again, like she said…

But he knew he’d never truly forget it. Not if it happened, not if it didn’t happen. He’d remember this night, no matter what it entailed. But whether he remembered it with regret or not was up to him.

He opened his eyes again. Jane was still waiting, still staring at him, but he didn’t look at her. He stared at her husband for a good minute before he spoke.

“I want to know why.”

Oscar blew out a bored breath, rubbing a hand over the side of his face. “Why what, Kurt?” he repeated tiredly.

“Why are you doing this? Why are you encouraging this?”

“Well, for starters, I love my wife. I’m aware of her wants and I don’t tend to make a habit of denying her.”


“But this an extreme case, yes, I agree.”

Kurt stared at him blankly, waiting for an explanation. “So…?”

“So it’s her birthday!” Oscar threw out his arms, sick of deliberating. “So what the fuck! I can’t show my wife a good time if she wants one?”

“Give me a real reason.”

Oscar lifted his chin, all easy humor gone from him now as he used the one extra inch he had on Kurt to look down at him. “Fine. You want a real reason, Kurt? The real reason is, it wasn’t fun to watch you kiss my wife—the woman I have built entire lives with—ten feet from where I was standing like my existence meant nothing. But you know what? If it’s going to happen, I’d rather be a part of it, I’d rather see it in front of my own eyes, than realize too late and forever have to wonder what’s been going on behind my back.”

Oscar.” Jane moved towards her husband, hurt at the implication, but he didn’t spare a second to acknowledge her reassurances.

“This is the deal, Kurt. Take it or leave it: one night only, and everyone gets what they want.”

It clicked, then: the reason why. The reasoning behind the reason why. At the end of this night, no matter what happened here, he, Kurt, would leave. But Jane would stay, here in her home, in her bed, with her husband. No matter what they all did together tonight, it would not break her marriage; it likely wouldn’t even test it. Kurt could understand how such knowledge could be empowering at a moment like this. He could understand how Oscar might even feel the temptation to prove it: to put his hypothesis to the test, and have them all watch as things played out in his favor.

And even Kurt couldn’t deny that, if the situation were reversed, he wouldn’t want the same assurance in his own marriage. But he did know that he would never, ever be brave enough to offer like this. Not in a million years.


It was Jane that spoke this time, and Kurt turned to look at her. He had a thousand questions, but he knew better than to ask any of them right now. After all, he truly did not want to know the answers. He didn’t want to know what sort of bargains she and her husband had made together. He didn’t want to know the things they’d discussed, the compromises they’d made. He just wanted to be here, a part of the final product. He simply wanted to let this happen.

So he did.

Chapter Text


He simply wanted to let this happen.

So he did.

When Jane took a few steps towards him and reached out for his hand, Kurt let her take it. She held out another hand to her husband, and he led them back towards the bedroom. Kurt was sure he was breathing audibly the entire time, but if so, neither of them commented on it. The light was off in the bedroom when they walked in and neither Jane nor Oscar moved to turn it on, for which Kurt was grateful. The darkness made this easier.

But it didn't make it easy.

The moment the door closed behind them, Oscar immediately started undressing, and all Kurt could do was stare. He could feel the fear and the anxiety rising in him again. What was he doing? Was he out of his mind? He couldn't sleep with Jane. He couldn't have a threesome with her and her husband. What was this, an amateur porn flick? What in the hell was going on?

Kurt averted his eyes and cleared his throat loudly when Oscar reached for the zipper of his jeans. "Um—shouldn't we talk about this first? You know, uh, make some sort of… ground rules?"

"Jesus, more rules? More talking?" Oscar smirked, looking up. "Look, if you want to back out, just back out."

"No, I don't want—" Kurt broke off, flustered. "Look, I'm just trying to make things less awkward. So nobody… gets the wrong idea here."

Oscar looked like he was going to laugh in Kurt's face again—there was only one person here who was in danger of getting the wrong idea—but he managed to hold it in.

"Okay, fine," he agreed. "Maybe that's a good idea. Ground rules…"

Oscar pretended to think for a moment, and Kurt was grateful for the humoring. It gave him a second to try and clear his head.

"All right, how about this: It's Janie's birthday, so she calls the shots. She decides what we do and don't do. When she wants to stop, we stop. When she wants you to leave, you leave. How's that work for ground rules?"

And that was all that needed to be said about it.

Oscar continued undressing, and Kurt began, trying to focus his fumbling fingers on undoing the buttons on his shirt and only on that. If he stopped to think about everything else that was happening in the room—or was going to happen—he wouldn't be able to breathe, let alone move.

When he finished with the buttons on his shirt and looked up again, he was surprised to see Jane in front of him. She was so close that he jumped a little, and she smiled reassuringly. She was still fully dressed, and he took some odd solace in that, despite what they were about to do. She was the only normal part of this interaction, he thought, and he comforted himself with her presence. They had never shared anything more romantic than that one kiss outside his apartment all those years ago, but he had fantasized about this enough times to make their actions feel familiar. He had seen enough pictures of her naked body to know what to expect beneath her clothes.

She reached up to push the shirt off his back, and then turned to present him with her own.

She was wearing a flowing violet dress that fell midway down her thighs and was held closed by one long zipper down the back. Kurt lifted his hands to the top of the zipper and then hesitated as he looked down at her, knowing this moment of undressing her, more than him shedding his own clothes, was the point of no return. It was now or never. There would be no—

"Stop it, Kurt," Jane whispered under her breath, and he froze, his entire body trapped as if he'd just stepped on a land mine. Had he been right before—was this really a trick after all? Had she brought him this far only to humiliate him?

Jane twisted her neck, turning to catch his anxious gaze with a frown. "Stop thinking so much," she told him, "or you'll ruin it."

He shut his eyes, drew in a deep breath that was only partially of relief, and made himself focus. Then he pulled down the zipper. He opened his eyes and watched her back as the fabric fell away, watched as one tattoo, and then another and another, bare themselves to him. But even as more and more became uncovered, his eyes stayed focused on one in particular: his name, still emblazoned on the high plane of her back. The letters rippled across her shoulderblades as she shrugged out of the dress, and as the fabric fell to the floor at Jane's feet, Kurt found himself looking up, across the room to Oscar.

He was laying on the bed, naked save for a pair of boxer briefs, and Kurt wondered for the ten thousandth time what it was like for him, to be married to a woman who had another man's name permanently tattooed on her skin.

More to the point, what was it like to watch another man undress her?

To look at Oscar's face, Kurt might think it meant nothing. Jane's husband's face was entirely clear, as devoid of emotion as if he were watching a TV show he wasn't particularly interested in.

But Kurt knew him well. He knew it was a mask; Oscar was good at hiding things, practiced in the art of maintaining calm even in the most desperate situations. He had done it for years: first in the military; then in his and Jane's shadowy anti-corruption organization; and most notably a few years ago, as he sat chained to a table in interrogation while Kurt picked apart his entire life with the power of the law on his side.

Kurt dropped his gaze, forcing himself to focus on Jane in front of him, and not her husband. Stop thinking so much. He repeated her mantra in his head as he watched her turn around to face him. She smiled up at him, lifting herself up onto her tiptoes so her mouth could reach his.

He closed his eyes and he tried—he really tried—to kiss her back. He tried to lose himself now in real life as he had in fantasies over the years, but he couldn't focus. Even with his eyes closed, he could feel Oscar watching him from across the room, judging him.

Jane pulled away with a frown at the lack of enthusiasm. "What did I tell you about over-thinking things?"

"Sorry," Kurt muttered, looking down. "I just…" He couldn't stop himself from glancing over her shoulder at her husband. Oscar's expression still hadn't changed—clear of emotion as ever—but Kurt knew there had to be something behind that façade. He just wasn't sure if he wanted to know what it was.

Jane sighed heavily, turning her head to look at her husband.

"Stop it, will you?"

"Stop what?" Oscar wondered, not taking his eyes off Kurt.

"Stop doing that thing you do!" she ordered, her voice growing short with impatience. "Stop intimidating him."

"He's not intimidating me," Kurt corrected loudly, but no one seemed to hear.

"Leave him be, Oscar. Be fair about this."

"Fair?" Oscar snorted, his mask of calm breaking as he let out an incredulous laugh. "Are you kidding me, Jane? In what universe am I being anything apart from obscenely fair about what's happening right now?"

"Oscar. We have discussed this."

At the firm reminder, he tipped his palms upward in a lazy gesture of surrender. "Fine, fine. You win." His eyes flickered to the ceiling. "As usual."

"Thank you, sweetheart." She brightened at once with triumph, smiling at his capitulation before turning back to Kurt.

"Don't worry so much," she whispered with a smile when she saw his eyes were still fixed over her shoulder. "He's harmless."

Kurt begged to differ—her husband was a trained Marine and a decorated one at that—but he didn't much feel like reminding either of them of that fact right now. Jane was leaning up to kiss him again, and he was determined now not to squander this opportunity. He knew already without having to be told that he would never get a second chance at this.

Her next kiss, when it came, was slow. Not slow like that first one all those years ago—tentative and anxious—but slow in a measured, controlled manner. She was trying to settle him, to ease him into this. He let her do it, wondering all the while just when and how their roles switched.

She led him back to the bed, the two of them trading touches along with their kisses, reacquainting themselves with one another. He kept his hands in somewhat decent places—her hips, her back—but she let hers roam. She touched his face, his neck, his chest. He shuddered when she drew her hands down his chest to his stomach, and he broke their kiss when he felt her hands on the button of his jeans.

She smirked slightly at the startled look on his face, raising one wry eyebrow at his surprise as if to ask, What else do you think you're here for?

He swallowed, gathering himself, and then nodded once. She pulled down the zipper and then pulled him down onto the bed with her. Jane lay in the middle, with Kurt on her right side and Oscar on her left. Their bed was big enough, thankfully, that it was not cramped with so many people.

As Kurt reached down to remove his jeans, a flash of movement in his periphery made him look up. It was Oscar's hand, reaching out to turn Jane's face towards his. For a moment, Oscar held her chin up before him and said nothing. Then he bent forward and kissed her, very gently and very slowly. Jane sighed quietly after they broke apart, and placed one of her inked hands on her husband's cheek to keep him close.

Neither said anything, but as they laid there for a silent minute staring at each other, Kurt could imagine what was passing between them, and he understood their instinct to keep it to themselves. Some things were too precious to speak of in the company of others, no matter the circumstances.

To give them some semblance of privacy, he turned his back to them and busied himself with removing his jeans and socks and kicking them off the side of the bed. He only turned around when he felt Jane's hand on his elbow.

Kurt looked over and saw that her husband was already kissing her shoulder, and one of his hands was moving up the flat plane of her stomach towards her chest. But she rested a hand on Kurt's arm and spoke as softly as if they were alone.

"If you end up changing your mind," she told him, "you can just get up and go. I won't be offended."

Her voice was solemn, conscientious, and he nodded his thanks. Leave it to Jane to make time to make sure he was comfortable in a threesome. Not that he actually was comfortable—his heart was beating much too fast for that—but the anticipation had overridden the fear now. He watched as Oscar's hand moved to cup Jane's left breast over her bra, and then he felt Jane reach out to him, to pull him into what they were doing, and he thought, This is actually happening.

He was kissing Jane while her husband touched her and the world wasn't imploding.

But—why wasn't the world imploding?

He didn't know and he didn't care. He refused to let himself care. Jane was kissing him now and if he stopped to think, he'd have to stop this. He wasn't about to do that. Still, he hesitated to touch her. He was reticent to push the amorphous boundaries they'd set so far, for he had no notion of where the line of their marriage truly lay. He could feel Oscar's hand between their bodies, touching her, and he had absolutely no idea what was or wasn't off-limits anymore.

As if reading his mind, Jane broke the kiss to whisper, "You can touch me."

"Come on," she encouraged, reaching for one of his hands when he hesitated. "I want you to touch me."

She didn't give him a choice and nor did he want one. She pressed his hand to her other breast, the one her husband was not touching, and then she kissed him again. He expected it to be another long kiss, another teaching moment, but their lips hadn't met for more than five seconds when she pulled away and turned to kiss her husband instead.

Oscar showed absolutely no hesitation in kissing her back—despite the fact that another man's tongue had just been in her mouth—and Kurt couldn't help himself from marveling at the man's willingness to share this. Share her.

We have discussed this, Jane had reminded her husband earlier. But what in the world did that mean, exactly? What could she have possibly offered Oscar in return for tonight that would somehow make them even the next morning?

As Kurt watched them kiss, he contemplated the possibilities, knowing as he did so that he would never know the answer. That was all right. He was fairly certain he wouldn't be able to handle the details anyway.

"Don't be lazy now," Jane admonished, and Kurt jumped when he felt her hand on his again. He looked down and realized too late that he'd been so deep in thought that his hand had become immobile on her chest.

"You should know better than anyone, special agent," Oscar muttered from the other side of the bed. "You want something in this world, you've gotta work for it."

Kurt barely held back from telling him to fuck off. Instead, he reached out and pulled Jane back to him, kissing her hard. He could feel her laugh into the forceful kiss, and he knew she was laughing at him, but he didn't care. It didn't matter how much they made fun of him during—or after, for that matter. He would make the most of this.

And he did. After a minute, her laughter died away, and he could hear Jane's breath start to shorten as he kissed her. He drew his hands along her body, touching what parts of her her husband hadn't already claimed and reminding her, he hoped, of what more he could offer.

She let him do so, but only for a minute or two before she pulled away and broke the kiss. He made to pull her back to him, but she held a firm hand against his chest, and he remembered the score. This was not, and never had been, just about him and her.

While she turned to the side to kiss her husband, Kurt put his mouth to her shoulder, following the trail of her interlocking tattoos all over her back and neck and shoulders. He reached a hand down to squeeze her ass, and smiled at the way she pushed herself back into him in response.

The air around them was growing hot and close, and Kurt could feel sweat starting to rise on his body, and on Jane's as well. When he buried his face in her hair to kiss the back of her neck, he could feel dampness starting to creep into the roots of her hair. He pushed himself closer. Exertion smelled so good on her, always had.

"Are you hard for me?"

Her voice was a whisper in the air, and though its intended recipient was unclear, that didn't stop them both from answering.

"Yes," they whispered as one, and she grinned at the immediate response. There was no embarrassment left on Kurt's end anymore; he was as determined as the two of them to finish this and finish it properly.

"Good answer," she praised, kissing Kurt first, and then her husband.

"What about you, hm?" Oscar asked, leaning over to kiss her again. "You wet yet? Do I even need to ask?"

She smiled, reaching out to tuck some of his hair behind his ear, and draw his mouth back to hers. "I like it when you ask."

"Mm," he murmured, drawing a hand down her side. "I bet you're gushing already, sweetheart. How many years have you fantasized about this, now?"

"Not telling."

"Fine, let me feel, then," he replied, sliding a hand between her thighs, but she pushed him away.

"Not yet," she whispered, and Kurt could hear the excitement in her labored breath. She wanted this to last, just as much as they all did.

While they were distracted, staring each other down in a brief standoff of mutual desire, Kurt bent forward, latching his lips onto an open spot on the side of her neck and sucking. Jane moaned at the pressure, leaning her head back and pushing her chest up to give him more access.

"God, that feels good," she whispered, closing her eyes as she rubbed more of her neck against his beard. "He always shaves."

Her husband bent his mouth to the other side of her neck, offering quietly, "I can stop shaving, if you like. Just say the word."

Jane opened her eyes, shaking her head and smiling at him as she reached a hand out to stroke his smooth cheek. It was clear she didn't need that from him—this was a fantasy, after all, and part of the thrill was the strangeness of another man's skin against hers.

"I like you clean-shaven," she whispered. "You're soft between my legs."

Her husband smirked at that and, taking the obvious cue, dutifully ducked his head down. Before Kurt even had time to process what was happening, Oscar had her underwear off and was positioned between her legs. In seconds, Jane was moaning aloud, her body rocking to the rhythm of his tongue.

"Slower," she gasped, trying to catch her breath. Her hands were buried between her legs, clutching at his hair. "Please, slower. Please, honey, I want..."

"I know," Oscar whispered, pulling his mouth away to kiss her thighs. "Trust me, baby, I know what you want."

"God, yes. You do. You always do."

Kurt watched Oscar duck his head back between Jane's legs, listened to her let out a string of desperate moans in response, and he recalled that one very brief conversation he'd had with Oscar in interrogation, about his and Jane's sexual relationship. He had not made his prisoner go into any details—in truth, he hadn't wanted to hear them himself—but now Kurt couldn't help but be curious.

He wondered if this is what it had been like, their first time in this second life. Had Oscar gone down on her, pleasing her in every way possible before satisfying himself? Had they reveled in recreating old, fragmented memories, or had they focused instead on forging a new future together?

It wasn't his place to uncover those private truths anymore. Instead, he put his mind to what was in front of him. He wasn't here to sit and watch.

Jane gasped in surprise when he kissed her, but immediately brought a hand up to cup the back of his neck and keep him close. She didn't have to tell him again, as she had before, to touch her. He reached out of his own accord, cupping her breast above her bra, and her free hand immediately came up to guide him. He followed her for a couple minutes, learning what she liked, what she didn't like. When he knew enough, when he'd had enough, he pushed her hands away and slipped his beneath her bra. But it was too tight, too restrictive—

"Off," he muttered, "take it off."

She complied eagerly, reaching behind her to unhook the straps and then toss that last bit of clothing into the darkness at the corner of her bedroom.

Once she was free, Kurt bent his head to her breast, suckling her right nipple into his mouth as his hand massaged her left. The tips were firm, taut against the wetness of his tongue and the callouses on his fingertips. When she pulled at his shoulder, asking him to pick up his head, he did asked, abandoning her chest for her mouth. He was not shy anymore, but high on the adrenaline her body offered him. He wanted to feel more of her, have more of her.

But her husband was in the way of what he really wanted, so he settled for pressing his hips against her side, privately relishing in the moan of longing that the feel of his erection drew out of her mouth. Her husband may be busy between her legs, but it was his touch that has elicited that sound from her. And he wanted to hear more. It was just one night they had here, and he was going to get his fill.

"More, more, more," she chanted, and Kurt actually tried to keep up with her pace for a few seconds before he realized she wasn't talking to him. She had her hands buried in her husband's hair, her eyes squeezed shut, and her face screwed up so badly he would've thought she were in pain if he didn't know just how much she was enjoying this.


Kurt watched her, finding himself holding his breath just as tightly as she was, his body tense and poised, waiting for release—

Finally it was granted. She came apart with a triumphant cry, her back bowing all the way off the bed before collapsing back onto the mattress. She was panting, yanking at her husband's hair and head and cheeks to bring him back up to her level. She did not have enough breath for a "Thank you," but the sentiment was clear in the intensity of her kiss.

When she turned back to Kurt and kissed him too, he could taste the traces of her pleasure inside her mouth, and he almost went down and buried his face between her legs too. The only thing that stopped him was that niggling doubt that he might underperform, the reminder that Oscar had had nearly a decade of experience with her body and he, Kurt, had had less than an hour. There was no point in competing—at least not in that particular arena.

For a few minutes, they lay there together, touching her gently from either side as she came back to herself. It didn't take long; she rested, dazed, for only a few minutes after coming—and then she was herself again, reaching for both of them, wanting more, more, more.

Kurt marveled, as always, at the stamina women had. They could come back from anything, and nearly always in record time, and Jane was no exception. In fact, she was faster than most. He figured it must be pure desire driving her forward—she had been waiting years for this, if her husband was to be believed, and Kurt saw no reason why he would lie. The thought made him grin to himself. He never would have guessed it, before tonight. He had never thought her capable of such wants, and yet now he was wondering what other fantasies were knocking around in that head of hers. He wondered what others she'd indulged over the years.

Lost in his own thoughts, he nearly choked on the air he was breathing when Jane reached between his legs and took ahold of him. His breath caught audibly, and she grinned before leaning over to kiss him. Kurt closed his eyes when he felt her tongue meet his; he couldn't help imagining it wrapped around the head of his cock.

A second later, he forced his eyes open; he couldn't think like that while she was touching him or he'd come much too early—and there would be no living that down. Instead, he focused on Jane's face as she kissed him. She only had one hand on him, and he knew without having to look where her other must be. It made him wonder…

"So, um…" He cleared his throat, very aware of her hand still wrapped around him, and her other hand, likely still wrapped around her husband. Kurt didn't know how much more of this he could take. "How should we decide—I mean, uh, you know—Who goes—"

"First?" Oscar supplied with a wry smile, catching his wife's eye.

Jane smiled briefly back at him, and then turned to Kurt. Her hands were empty now, free, and she laid one of them on his arm.

"Kurt, listen…" She brushed her thumb lightly against his forearm. "There's an aspect of this fantasy I'm very partial to, and it doesn't have anything to do with you two being gentlemen and politely waiting your turns."

Kurt swallowed, immediately understanding what she was saying. He didn't know why he hadn't put it together before. Of course this is what she'd had in mind when she had talked about logical conclusions earlier.

"Fuck," Kurt whispered, his breathing tight. "This is insane."

Jane touched the side of his face—carefully, gently, just like that first time. "Do you want to stop?" she asked quietly. She spoke in a soft way, a caring way—a way that told him there would be no consequences, no hard feelings, if he backed out now. A way that told him he could think about it for a moment, and make sure he was comfortable.

But he didn't think. He didn't hesitate. He just told the truth.

"No. I don't want to stop."

"Good." She smiled, and pulled him to her for a kiss. He sighed when he felt her tongue, letting her draw him back into it all again.

"I need you to wear a condom," she told him when they broke apart, and he nodded at once.

"Of course. Do you—?"


Kurt looked up at the sound of Oscar's voice, reacting just in time to snatch the small package flying through the air. He opened it on instinct, refusing to think about how absurd this was. If he stopped to think about anything that was happening, or had happened, or could happen, he'd never be able to get what he wanted.

And he wanted this so, so badly.

Jane turned onto her side then, giving him her back, her ass, and he had to close his eyes so he wouldn't moan aloud. A moment later, he felt something smooth being pressed into his hand. He opened his eyes to see that Jane was handing him a bottle of lubricant. He stared down at it, understanding the purpose, the mechanics of it, and yet still not knowing quite what to do.

"I can show you, if you want," Jane invited softly, and goddamn it if that wasn't the sexiest thing he had ever heard in his life.

He nodded dumbly, too overwhelmed by desire and—yes, she had guessed correctly—ignorance. He'd never had a woman like this, never even thought to try. But Jane did not make a fuss of it, nor a show. She showed him what to do, and after a few minutes of acclimating himself, she rewarded him with a quiet sigh of pleasure, proving that he'd done it right. Relieved, he pressed a kiss to the back of her neck.

When he leaned back, he was met by the sight of his name tattooed on her back, and he couldn't help himself: he left a kiss there too; he left multiple kisses.

When he finally pulled away, he noticed Oscar watching him from Jane's other side. One edge of his mouth twitched upward in a half-smirk.

"Thought you'd like that."

"Shut up," Kurt muttered, ducking his head again, hoping the general flush of arousal would hide the latent flush of embarrassment.

He made himself re-focus on Jane in front of him, pouring all of his energy towards her in an attempt to forget who was watching. It didn't work very well—at least not for Kurt—but Jane was moaning to the point of distraction within minutes, and he thought… Why not? He could feel Oscar watching them, and though he knew it wasn't a good idea, he couldn't resist. There was something about having Jane here, in her bed, from behind, that brought out the less…fair aspects of his personality.

He tightened a hand on her shoulder, adjusting the angle slightly so he could push in deeper. The fact that her response was nothing but a hiss of breath through clenched teeth made him grin into the mess of dark hair in front of his face.

"How does that feel?" he whispered to her.

"Good. So good."

He leaned his head over her shoulder, so his lips were at her ear. "Better?" he breathed.

Without missing a beat, she reached back and pinched his shoulder, twisting the skin so hard in retaliation that he yelped.

"Don't be an asshole, Weller. I didn't ask you to stay so you could attempt to make comparisons."

Despite the pain, he couldn't help but smile. "Had to try. Can you blame me?"

She ignored the question, choosing instead to close her eyes, to focus on the feeling instead of talking about it.

"Different," she allowed after a moment, as he continued to move inside her. "You feel different."

"A good kind of different?"

"Mm." She nodded, pushing herself back into him. "Yes."

They moved together for a few more seconds before she opened her eyes and nodded at her husband.

"Now you."

He smiled, shifting towards her. "Thought you'd forgotten about me."

"Never." She slipped a hand behind his neck and drew his mouth to hers. "Come inside," she breathed into their kiss, "where you belong."

He didn't need to be told twice. He reached between her legs, spreading her, and then slid in up to the hilt with a fluidity that surprised even Kurt. He'd never been with anyone long enough to find a mutually perfect fit that didn't need any wait time.

Jane sighed happily at Oscar's addition, tipping her head back for air. "So good…" she whispered, letting her eyes fall closed. "God, you both feel… You make me feel…"

"What?" they both whispered at the same time, equally greedy for praise, for credit. "What do you feel, Jane?"

Without opening her eyes, she smiled, and reached a blind hand out to each of them. She cupped one hand around the back of her husband's head, and with the other, she held onto Kurt's side.

"I feel like I'm unreal," she whispered, her body rippling between them, unable to find a settling point between the two. "I feel too good, I… Please." It was like a prayer. "Please, I don't want to stop."

They didn't need another cue.

They both bent towards her again, picking up their separate paces and then syncing them, causing her to cry out. It was too much, too soon, but neither of them stopped, and nor did she want them to. She came again in minutes, her body convulsing between both of theirs, spent for the moment but not finished.

Both of them were still hard inside her, waiting for their own opportunity, and as she came down, they shifted slowly inside her, keeping themselves ready and readying her as well.

"Okay," she whispered finally, still short of breath and sensitive but not wanting to wait anymore. "Okay, keep going."

They spent a moment working her between them before realizing it wasn't conducive in the long-term. Oscar rolled onto his back, pulling Jane with him, on top of him, as Kurt knelt behind. He set his legs outside hers, adjusting himself behind her for maximum impact.

"Fuck," she groaned when Kurt drove inside. "Yes!"

"You gonna come for me again?" he panted in her ear, unashamed now, unstoppable now, as he latched his mouth to her neck and wrapped one of his hands around her breast.

"Not just for you," she gasped out, and Kurt couldn't help but smile. If there was one thing more impressive than her physical stamina it was her emotional stamina—her devotion to her husband was incredible.

Kurt held onto her hips as she bent down low, capturing her husband's mouth in an open, panting kiss.

"Like the view?" she asked, drawing herself slowly back up.

He looked up at her, skimming a hand up the middle of her body.

"I would like it a hell of a lot more if Weller's head wasn't popping in and out of view over your shoulder every five seconds."

"Price to pay," she teased, cupping the side of his face. She took his hand from her chest and brought it to her mouth so she could kiss his wedding ring. "I am all yours tomorrow," she reminded him. "And every single day after."

"I'll hold you to that."

She smiled, letting go of his hand as she braced herself once more against his chest. "I'd expect no less," she whispered, and then she started moving again, leveraging her position between the two of them to get the most out of all she was being offered.

Beneath her, Oscar groaned in pleasure as she dragged her nails down his chest. They left bright red marks behind, and caused him to take her harder, his hands white-knuckling around her ass. Not to be outdone, Kurt grasped onto the back of her shoulder, angling her forward to his advantage.

The air in the room filled with wild gasps as Kurt and Oscar fought to bring her to the end and she did her best to make it last as long as possible.

She kept one hand resting on her husband's chest to steady herself, and held onto the back of Kurt's neck with the other, working her body between the two of them. Her short breaths soon turned into pants, her whispers into mindless chants. Names were gone now, preferences gone. All she asked for was more, more, more.

"You're close, aren't you?" Oscar whispered, tightening his hold on her hips to the point of brushing. "I can feel you. Come on, baby. I know you wanna come. Want me to make you come? Hm? Is that what you want, Janie?"

"No," she gasped, shaking her head wildly back and forth. "Not yet."

"Can't put it off forever," Kurt panted from behind her.

"I can do anything I want." She gasped out a laugh, tipping her head back, grinning at him as she reveled in her own power. "How have you not realized that by now, Weller?"

He might've laughed at the spectacle of her bravado if he hadn't needed to come so badly. He was determined to take her with him, and from the way Oscar's fingers were digging deep into the skin of hips, Kurt guessed he felt the same. This needed to end, now.

And it did. She put up a good fight—who could expect anything less?—but eventually even she couldn't hold on. The pressure built and built until it was impossible to keep at bay anymore.

She cried out a nameless shout when she came, her back bowing so violently it was as if she'd been shot. On either side of her, two bodies gave out, one after the other, and two voices gasped out, as if on a dying breath, Jane.

They fell into a heap afterwards, one that quickly tipped to the side, so that they ended up much as they'd started out: Kurt on one side, Oscar on another, Jane squashed in between.

"I can't breathe," she gasped, fighting for air as her heart pounded out a fierce rhythm between them and her vision swam and speckled with black and white fuzz. "I can't—Oh, God—Please, I can't breathe."

"You can," Kurt whispered into her hair. It was the most he could manage.

"You're fine, baby," her husband put in, pressing a kiss to her forehead and rubbing some feeling back into one of her shoulders. "You're fine, you're fine, you're fine."

She moaned, shaking her head weakly. "I think I'm hallucinating."

Oscar laughed softly, and kissed her shoulder. "No, you're here. This is real."

"Is it?" She was still out of breath, but she managed a laugh too, as if the surreality of all this had only just now caught up to her.

"It is." Kurt bent his head to kiss her other shoulder. "Promise."

She hummed softly, closing her eyes as she rested between them. Though neither of them made a move to get up, she held onto them, using what little was left of her strength to keep them in place.

"Stay," she whispered. "Just stay here with me a minute, both of you."

They each did as asked, resting against her as their body temperatures slowly returned to normal. Eventually, after what felt like a very long time, their breathing returned to normal, too. It was quiet in the bedroom, almost silent, as they waited. It was time for this to end, and yet for all their planning, all their discussions and compromises, it seemed Jane and Oscar had not contemplated this transition.

Kurt spared them the awkwardness and pulled out first, carefully holding onto the top of the condom. Jane made a small murmur as he pulled out—of satisfaction or disapproval, he couldn't tell—and turned to watch as he made his way to the trashcan in the corner of the room. It was only after he'd thrown away the condom that he realized he didn't have a script for this moment, either. What was he supposed to do, start pulling on his clothes while the two of them lay in bed together and watched? That seemed too strange to contemplate, and yet returning to the bed seemed just as strange. He stood there, not knowing what to do, until someone gave him an answer.

It was Oscar, of all people, who chose to save him.

"It's past three, Kurt. You can crash here if you want." With a yawn, he added, "Not like there isn't room."

Kurt hesitated a moment, stuck—but then he quickly made up his mind not to make any more waves. Instead he took what was offered to him, got back in the bed, and closed his eyes. And most miraculous of all: he actually ended up falling asleep.

When he woke, it was to the sight of his own name. Kurt lay there without moving for a few minutes, staring at Jane's naked back and attempting to wrap his head around all that had happened the previous night. He would've chalked it all up to some insane dream, but with the reality of it staring him in the face, it was awfully hard to lie to his own mind.

He watched Jane's back and he listened to her and her husband breathe in their sleep and he weighed the probability of being able to get up and out the door before they woke. He put his percentage of success around zero.

Eventually he bit the bullet and pushed off the covers, getting to his feet. His clothes had been left in different spots around the room, and as he went around picking them up and putting them on, he became aware of Jane and Oscar slowly coming back to consciousness. He didn't look over at them. Instead he busied himself with putting on his underwear and his pants and his socks. He buttoned his shirt, and then he started looking for his shoes before he remembered they were in the front room. He allowed himself only a moment of hesitation before turning around to face them.

Jane lay half-sprawled over her husband, her arm thrown across his stomach and her head resting against the side of his ribcage as if it were a pillow. They were both clearly awake but apparently felt no impetus to get up. Kurt couldn't exactly blame them. Part of him wished he were back there with them. For a second he stared at them and he wondered how differently this morning might have gone, had he stayed naked and in bed. He wondered what would happen if he started undressing again and went back to bed.

But the time for those fantasies had already passed. There was no going back. So instead he grabbed his keys from where they'd fallen out of his pants pocket the previous night, and he stepped towards the bedroom door.

"Hey," Jane called out as he was about to leave. "Aren't you ever going to say anything, Kurt?"

He turned back and looked at them, curled up together in their bed.

There were a hundred things Kurt could say. A thousand. But only one thing came to his mind. He caught her eye with a smile as he reached for the doorknob.

"Happy birthday, Jane."