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“Get out,” Alicia says in the cab. Will looks around, but no, he is definitely already on the pavement. So that leaves—

She can’t mean. She can’t.

“Get out,” Alicia says again.

Kalinda gets out.



(It isn’t as awkward as he thought it’d be, actually.





“Will,” Alicia says, and god, her voice, her voice is so— “Kalinda hasn’t had her turn yet.”

Will doesn’t know where to look. Nearly twenty years later and sex still gives Alicia a cold-weather glow, rosy cheeks and bitten lips, nose and knees and elbows flushed pink. But everything, everything else is different; the look in her eyes, the straightened hair and perfume, the long manicured nails that prick up his spine. Expensive. Remote. Even down where they’re still joined she’s different, neater, hardly any hair.

Grown-up clothes, Will thinks. Grown-up lives.

Kalinda is watching him with an unreadable look, still in her slip and hovering, not touching either of them. He doesn’t know what she wants.

But. He knows what Alicia wants.

“No,” he agrees. “She hasn’t.”

He pushes himself off of Alicia, gets rid of the condom. Tugs Kalinda over, guides her between them. Positions her, back against his chest and knees on the outside of his. Alicia reclines against the pillows, watching.

(Will remembers their English elective, 8 am, second-row, jeans and sweatshirts and Alicia’s shower-wet hair, her drugstore shampoo, my girl’s tall with hard long eyes— Grown-up now. Grown-ups.)

He shakes his head.

Up close, Kalinda smells like perfume, like skin and heat. She’s tiny in ways you don’t notice until you have your fingers on her waist, around her wrists. Will’s hands look clumsy against her thighs. (And he’s surprised that she lets him, really, that she lets him move her – that she’s that acquiescent.) There are wisps of hair curling at her neck; Will wants to put his mouth on them.

“So now what?” Kalinda asks. She sounds almost bored, hips settling into the cradle of his, smoothing down the edges of her slip like they’re in a business meeting— but she’s not talking to him.

“Arms up,” Alicia tells her, too sweetly. Kalinda complies, slow and defiant, temple sliding along Will’s jaw as she lifts her chin. Alicia skims the slip off, settles back against the pillows to see what she’s uncovered. Her finger taps against her bottom lip. (And Will can’t read her at all.)

“Will,” she orders finally, “take Kalinda’s bra off.”

Kalinda tips her head, watching Alicia. “Yeah, Will,” she murmurs. “Take my bra off.”

Will’s hands clench involuntarily against the sheets. Just— yeah. He’s is pretty sure this is tensest threesome in the history of the world. “Whatever the ladies want.”

Kalinda’s bra is black and filmy. She shrugs her shoulders forward in a dancer’s move when he unclasps it, lets it slide down her arms (for Alicia, he realizes, so Alicia can see). He plucks it out of her lap, leaning so his chest touches her warm back, her sharp shoulder blades. He makes a face at Alicia, twirls it jauntily. “And now?”

It works; a smile breaks across Alicia’s face. “Oh my god, Will,” she huffs, and it’s better, it’s so much better than— “Can you just- stop hitting her with it, please?” Will laughs and obeys, tossing the bra over the edge of the bed.

“It’s nice to see my clothing treated with such reverence,” Kalinda sighs, but she’s relaxed too – Will can feel it in her back, in the way she shifts more weight unto his thighs.

“I’ll treat you better,” he promises, then looks at Alicia. “Unless- unless I’m not the one who’s going to…?”

“Touch her,” Alicia commands, so yes.

Apparently he is.



Three hours ago, at the bar, Will says: “I don’t know, Kalinda. If I want the same things Alicia wants.”

Kalinda shrugs. “But you want Alicia?”

Will looks over to where she’s laughing with Diane and the other partners. “Yes.”

Kalinda takes a sip of her drink. “Maybe that’s good enough.”



The stumble to Will’s bedroom is hazy, lips and teeth and Alicia’s smile, memories like ghosts as he strips her; the mole on her shoulder, the curve of her waist echoes of something else, someone else. By the time they hit the bed she’s the only one completely undressed (and he honestly doesn’t know— if he did that or if Kalinda helped).

She’s more brittle than he remembers, spine and shoulders straight even as he lays her out across the coverlet, kisses down her chest. He wants to— he isn’t sure. She doesn’t seem to know either, eyes flickering between him and Kalinda restlessly.

“Kalinda,” he says finally, looking over to where she’s kneeling at the edge of the bed. (She and Alicia have all but ignored each other so far and it’s weird, both of them part of— of this, and not even fucking talking.) So when Kalinda leans closer, Will wraps a palm around the back of her neck. Pushes slightly.

It’s a guess, really. The way she sometimes smiles at his redheaded assistant, the way she said it, she wants you to fuck her, like she knew, like she knew what that looked like.

A guess, but a good one. Kalinda’s mouth opens softly in understanding. She drops down on her elbows and Will takes his hand away, swallowing.

It’s another moment before Alicia catches up; her head thuds back against the pillow, heavy with knowledge. “Will,” she gasps.

“Shh,” he tells her, kissing his way back to her mouth. “Just wanna make you feel good.”

He moves a hand down, palming the smooth skin of her thighs, parting them (because he knows, somehow, that neither of them is willing to do it). Kalinda has settled on her stomach, is watching with dark eyes. Right up until the moment she lowers her head, Will genuinely believes somebody’s going to say stop, get last-minute cold feet.

No one does.



“You’re probably the worst wingman ever,” Will says, two weeks later on the courthouse steps. “I’m just saying.”

Kalinda hands him a file, the relevant passages already highlighted and colour-coded. “Yeah.” She pauses. Shifts from stiletto to stiletto. “Did get you laid, though.”

(In the dark, whenever Will closes his eyes: Alicia’s breasts and hands and mouth. The line of her back and the shape of her calves in his palms, looping on the projector screen of his eyelids, a constant reminder.)


Kalinda smiles. Will remembers the taste of her lipstick.

Over by the courthouse door, Alicia waves at them, gesturing to something in the medical examiner’s report. They turn towards her automatically; instinct, gravity, sunflowers to the sun.



The elevator ride is the longest of Will’s life. Kalinda and Alicia’s reflections are watching holes in each other, silent and separate, the chrome and glass cold against his spine like dread. No one talks. As a further precaution, Will also tries to stop thinking. (It doesn’t work.)

Alicia leads the way down his hallway, leans against his door while he fumbles to unlock it. It’s like Georgetown and it isn’t; the smell of tequila and her careless slouch, her sky-high heels and suit jacket. Will wants to touch her, make sure she’s real.

“Okay?” he asks, voice lowered. He doesn’t even know what he’s asking. Kalinda, hovering two steps down the hallway, politely looks away.

Alicia doesn’t. She holds his gaze like she’s been doing for weeks; stares, open and terrifying and wonderful. “It’s rude to keep ladies waiting, Will.”

“Right,” Will says. “Right.”

Inside the apartment, Alicia kicks off her heels and pads through his living room on stocking feet, a curious finger flicking over picture frames and mantle pieces. Casual, casual. (And she was always better at the selling the jury on emotion.) “Nice place.”

“Thanks.” He’s stalled in the entryway, can’t seem to make himself move. “I, uh, had it decorated.”

He glances at Kalinda. She’s still hovering, a ghost in three-inch heels. He’d like to think she looks uncomfortable, tense, something, but maybe he’s just projecting – the smooth lines of her expression could mean a million different things.

“Bedroom?” Alicia calls, opening and closing doors.


“I—” (don’t know, can’t do this, love you) (love you, love you, love you) “—am opening up some wine,” Will announces. He rubs a hand over his face. If anyone, anywhere has ever needed to be drunk…

Alicia pads back into the entryway. “I don’t know,” she says, “do we need wine? Kalinda does things like this all the time.” She comes to stand beside him, hand warm on his arm and dear god, things like what. “Don’t you, Kalinda?”

Kalinda’s hands are shoved in her jacket pockets, elbows swivelled out and up. “That’s right.”

Will swallows. They aren’t even looking at each other.

“Okay,” he says finally. “Well– I don’t. Do things like this.” God, even just saying it— “So. I need wine.”

“Not too much,” Kalinda murmurs and he seriously, seriously wants to hit her.

“No,” he agrees through clenched teeth, already heading for his kitchen, “not too much.”

He goes straight for the bourbon.



(It’s not, actually.

Every guy’s dream.)



Kalinda follows him (of fucking course she does).

“Hey.” Thumb hooking around the cuff of his jacket, accent soft and slurred, and how many drinks has she had? “Don’t screw this up.”

(Four? Will thinks. Five?) His laugh comes out strangled. “Kalinda, how could this get any more fucked up?”

Kalinda blinks at him. “Oka-ay,” she says. She boosts herself onto the counter, folds her hands. “Listen. She’s in there on the couch—”

“Are you seriously giving me a pep talk?” Will asks, incredulous.

“—Waiting. And you’ve been waiting for a lot longer. And it’s now, okay? It’s now, Will. Right this moment. Because–” She pauses, shrugs. “Because right now – she wants you to fuck her.”

Will chokes on his drink. Kalinda smiles.

“So sailor,” she says, swinging her feet lightly. “The question remains: are you going to?”

Will puts down his drink; his hand is shaking. It’s both the best and worst pep talk he’s ever had. “And you’ll just, what, watch?”

Kalinda shrugs a casual shoulder. “Sure.”

“Fine,” Will says. “Fine.” He looks at her more closely. “Should probably take off your coat then.”

She rolls her eyes, slides it off her shoulders onto the counter.

“And the boots,” Will adds.

For a minute he thinks she’s going to tell him to go fuck himself, but in the end she just tosses her head. Holds up a foot.

“Really?” Will laughs, even as he’s putting a hand on her stocking-covered knee, sliding his fingers around to look for a zipper.

“I like to be catered to,” Kalinda murmurs. (And she’s not his type, not really, but for a second he imagines it. Catering to her.)

Kalinda smirks, lifts her other foot. “I think you’re going to be just fine.”

Will shakes his head. This is so ridiculous, but he’s glad. He’s glad it’s her. “Thanks.” They sit there, smiling at each other like idiots, until—

“I’d take her hair down too,” Alicia says from the doorway. “If I were you.”



Both Will and Alicia gasp as Kalinda lowers her head.

It’s easily the hottest thing Will’s ever seen. Kalinda keeps a hand on Alicia’s abdomen, anchoring her, and Will can tell, knows she’s going slow from the way Alicia groans. (Alicia loved this when they were twenty-three, used to beg him, shove him on his back, walk up his body on her knees. Only the second guy who’d ever done it to her, she’d said, and Will’d wiped his face on the sheets next to her hip, vowed to do it every night for the rest of their lives.)

Will leans his head on her shoulder. Doesn’t know how he can miss her when she’s right here.

Then Alicia gasps in his ear and Will looks down to meet Kalinda’s stare. She quirks an eyebrow at him, never lifting her mouth, and he nearly laughs.


Fine, Kalinda, he thinks, fine. “Is it good?” he asks Alicia, sliding a hand down between her legs. Kalinda backs off to give him room, then licks around his fingers, wet and messy and fuck.

“Yes,” Alicia hisses, back arched and desperate. Will slides slippery fingers inside her, Kalinda mouthing at his knuckles, at the curve of Alicia’s thigh. His palm is blocking Alicia’s clit, which Kalinda tolerates for maybe a minute.

“Jesus, fine,” he laughs as she nips at his wrist. He trails his sticky hand up across Alicia’s belly and out of the way. “Be my guest.”

Kalinda smirks at him with a wet mouth before lowering her head again.

She’s not gentle this time – Alicia’s head snaps back against the pillow with a groan. Her hand drifts down, threading through Kalinda’s hair (and Kalinda must be— because she pauses, just for a second). Will kisses his way across Alicia’s lips, swallows her moans.

Kalinda pushes herself up on her elbows. Wipes her mouth.

“Your turn.”

Will nearly upsets the bedside table looking for condoms.



“You should go for it,” Kalinda says. (Actually, what she says is, “I’d go for it” — but Will doesn’t remember that until later.)

“What, are you my wingman now?” Will laughs. He’s already a little drunk; half from the win, half from the beers everyone keeps buying him.

Kalinda shrugs. “If you want me to be.”

Will pushes himself up off the bar. “Alright.” Alicia’s still making the rounds with Diane; beautiful, luminous, everything he’s ever wanted. “But if this fucks up – I’m blaming you.”



“I’d take her hair down too,” Alicia says.

Will doesn’t actually jump, but it’s a near thing. Under his hand the muscles in Kalinda’s leg twitch and seize, ready to run.

“I mean, while you’re at it,” Alicia adds, and god, her smile has teeth.

Kalinda recovers first. Her arms reach up and back. Slide the pins out of her hair one by one. There’s a silence while she lines them up on the counter, messy waves falling in her face. Her eyes stay on Alicia the whole time.

“Will,” she finally mutters out of the side of her mouth, ankle twisting is his grasp. A reminder.

Right, Will thinks. Okay. The memory of Kalinda’s mocking smile straightens out his spine, makes him move – are you going to fuck her? and every playground taunt he’s ever heard, hey pitcher on the dugout mound. His shoes sound unnaturally loud against the linoleum. His hands are shaking.

Then Alicia tips her head back. Smiles. And Will thinks, oh, I remember you.

Her mouth is warm. Wet. Tequila and lipstick, her hands cool against his neck, and Will has to stop for a second to catch his breath. To breathe.

“Hi,” Alicia whispers, smile blooming like a secret, and he loves her like he loves his own life.

“Hi,” he echoes. Alicia looks past him to where Kalinda is biting her lip on the counter. Tell her to leave, Will thinks, prays, sends telepathically. Please, tell her to leave and we can—

“Can’t leave anyone out,” Alicia says, turning him, and Will honestly pauses for a second, hands on Kalinda’s thighs, waiting to wake up.

“So sailor,” Kalinda murmurs. Her smile is worried. Only slightly, only around the edges, but. It’s there.

Will kisses her just for that.



It doesn’t fuck up. Not right away.

Will gets Alicia away from the partners, gets her to the bar and laughing. She tosses back tequila shots, forces him to have one. (Down in the other corner, Will sees Kalinda do the same. She toasts him; a flick of the wrist, an unreadable smile.)

He mentions it then. “Alicia,” he says, when she’s lit-up and happy, leaning into him lightly. “Kalinda told me. About the separation.”

There’s a long pause.

“Did she,” Alicia says at last, recovering her smile (but it’s different, brighter and sharper; brittle). “How nice.”

So actually, if you think about it— he’s to blame.

(That makes it worse.)



“Touch her,” Alicia commands.

“Touch me, Will,” Kalinda sing-songs quietly. He wants to tell her to stop it, not to make it worse, but Alicia just watches them with steady eyes.

Jesus. Okay then. He rubs his hands up Kalinda’s arms, over her stomach and thighs. Puts his chin on her shoulder and gets his first real look at her breasts – high and full, dark nipples furled tight. She leans into his hands when he cups them, tilts her head back (and Will isn’t sure who that’s for, but he likes to think he has something to do with it). He finally gets his mouth on her warm throat, on the sharp hinge of her jaw. She tastes like heat.

“I didn’t mean there,” Alicia says idly. She catches one of his hands, drags it down between Kalinda’s legs. “Here. Touch her here.”

Will makes an embarrassing noise then, he can’t help himself. Finished playing puppet, Alicia smirks at him, lets go of his wrist. But. She leaves a hand behind on Kalinda’s inner thigh (and Will can feel Kalinda go electric-still, spine like corded steel).

“Right,” he says, swallowing. Kalinda’s hot like fire, like fever, even through her panties. He could take them off her, give himself more room to manoeuver, but— “Got your back,” her murmurs in her ear.

“Literally?” Kalinda bites off. Will smiles, slides a hand underneath the silk to cup her.

“And metaphorically,” he tells her, running a curious thumb over her clit. Kalinda ‘hmms’ at him, breathing harshly through her nose.

Alicia shifts up on her elbows, watching Will’s busy fingers. “So,” she says, and Will can’t believe her; her dark eyes and flush and everything written in her the tilt of her head, across her whole face – but the tone’s almost conversational and– “Wet?”

Kalinda makes a sharp sound. Will looks down to see Alicia’s hand, thumb tracing causal circles on Kalinda’s inner thigh. Kalinda’s holding her lower body completely, heartbreakingly still, and yes, she is very, very—

“Yeah,” he tells Alicia. “Yeah.” He slips a finger inside and Kalinda turns her face into his neck with a gasp. He lets her, helps her shift some of the weight back onto his body, curls his free hand around her hip. If he can make her come fast, maybe, maybe—

Alicia sits up, catches Kalinda’s chin. “No Kalinda,” she says, enunciating like a school teacher. “You look at me.”

For a moment Will thinks Kalinda’s going to jerk her head back, slap the hand away, but she just rolls her eyes. Bites Alicia’s thumb lightly. “Sure. Got any other requests?”

That actually makes Alicia smile. “Not at present,” she murmurs, thumb sliding across Kalinda’s mouth, along the curve of her jaw.

“Just let me know,” Kalinda pants. Alicia’s hands trail down her breasts and belly, back down to her thighs. They pause there, considering.

“Actually Kalinda,” she says, spreading her palms flat, “there is the one thing.” She pushes. Will can feel the shift as Kalinda’s legs cant wide, wider. “Come quickly.”

That does it. Will hears himself swear softly; Kalinda’s breathing go staccato. She starts shaking against him in under a minute, has to fall forward and catch herself with hands on either side of Alicia’s shoulders. She drops her chin and this time Alicia lets her, threads a hand through her hair.

Will moves with them, keeps up the pressure, and it takes him a second to realize that Kalinda’s rounded back and bitten lip means she’s coming. He catches Alicia’s eye over her bent head, shocked and thrilled.

Alicia smiles, pulls him down for a kiss. Between them, he can feel her stroke a finger up Kalinda’s twitching spine.

“Well,” he says against her mouth, “that was fun.”



Untangling themselves is amusing, if messy and vaguely shameful. Will’s worried something might be said (something worse), but everyone seems to be too tired to move, so. He drags the sheet up from the bottom of the bed.

“Okay?” he asks Alicia, because he wants— he just wants. But she only watches him with flat eyes, raises an elegant shoulder. Her nose and cheeks are still flushed pink. Will wants to kiss her or shake her, beg her maybe (not to do this, to do it again – he doesn’t know). In the end he just tucks the blanket around her shoulders.

Kalinda’s watching him too, eyes alert, mouth and hands slack and sleepy-still. Her legs shift like she’s considering slinking away, but she’s trapped between them, can’t seem to work out an exit strategy. Will wags a silent finger at her. She makes a face, settles her head on the pillow.

God, tomorrow morning is going to be so— Will wonders if there’s a way to guarantee he dies in his sleep. He crosses his arms behind his head, stares at the ceiling, one part pleasantly-debauched, three-parts terrified. (It’s how he’s been feeling all night.)

Still, he must fall asleep at some point, because he wakes to Kalinda shifting, legs restless under the sheets. He’s about to roll over, give her the out she wants, when—


Alicia’s voice is saccharine-sweet and dangerous. Will’s stomach does a slow roll (my girl's tall and taut, with thin legs just like a vine that's spent all of its life on a garden-wall—)

There’s a horrible pause. He feels Kalinda freeze beside him, deer-in-the-headlights-still, then–


“Want to leave?”

A longer pause. “…No.”

“Not done?”

Will turns his head on the pillow, curious. Alicia’s outlined in the dark, propped up on an elbow, her hair a swinging curtain. He can’t make out her face.

“I got two turns,” she continues, too sweet, too calm. “You want another turn?”


“I’m—” Kalinda’s breath chokes off in a gasp. Alicia must have—her hand must be— Will closes his eyes against the image.

Kalinda inhales once, twice, recovering. She shifts on the bed, rearranging to— what? Will can’t tell. (But Alicia gasps, and he can imagine.) “So,” Kalinda says finally, calm. “You wanna go again?”

“Yes, Kalinda,” Alicia intones, still schoolmarm-proper, even though there’s more breath around the words. “Again.”

“Right.” Kalinda tips her chin up, eyes flashing in the dark. “Okay.”

Alicia moves suddenly— catching a hand, wrenching it up over Kalinda’s head. “No, Kalinda,” she croons softly, “not me. Just you.”

Oh Jesus Christ.

But Kalinda’s got bigger balls than him. “Doesn’t really sound fair,” she murmurs, tilting her head and bringing her other arm up, wrist crossed over the one Alicia has pinned to the bed. “But sure.” She smiles insincerely. “Whatever you want.”

Alicia leans in, hair draping around their faces. “Exactly. Whatever I want.”

“You’re the boss,” Kalinda pants, hips shifting against the sheets. There’s another pause. “Except— Shit. Not like that.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Alicia hisses, rearing back. “You wanted to do it yourself?”

Kalinda rolls her eyes, the whites flashing in the dark. “No, just—” she reaches down between their bodies. “Alicia.” Her voice has gone low and quiet. “Like this.”

Alicia leans in again, slowly, peering into the gap between them. Kalinda makes a soft sound. Brings a shaky hand up, combing the hair off Alicia’s face and holding it back in a loose fist. “Can you—?”

“Yeah,” Alicia whispers, “I see.” More shifting, then— “Like this?”

“Uh-huh.” Kalinda takes her hand out from under the blankets. (But. She leaves the other tangled in Alicia’s hair.) “Y-yeah.” She licks her lips. “Yes.”

They’re quiet for long moments, just hissing sheets and breath. Finally, Alicia blows out hers in a huff. “Look, if this isn’t working for you, we can just—”

“No!” Kalinda says sharply. Then, lower: “No. It’s- it’s working.” Her voice sounds like cut glass.

There’s a stunned pause. “Oh,” Alicia says finally, “I—” In the dark, Will can just make out the grin breaking across her face, the open-mouthed surprise. His chest seizes; she looks so much like– (like herself at twenty-three, hand wrapped around his erection in Wolff Library, making faces at him as he tried not to embarrass himself).

Present-day Alicia brings her forehead down to rest against Kalinda’s, amused. “You’re certainly being quiet about it.”

Kalinda shifts her hips, shrugs a shoulder (and she’s so good, she’s so cool, but Alicia has to know, she has to know now—). “Can’t– can’t wake Will.”

“No,” Alicia agrees, eyes flicking over and meeting his. “Can’t wake Will.”

God. Tensest, most fucked-up threesome ever. Still, Will puts a finger to his lips; Alicia’s smile widens.

“So, Kalinda,” she begins, conversational. She touches the tips of their noses together. “You’re going to come?”

“Yes,” Kalinda grinds out.

“Right now?”

Yes,” Kalinda hisses, butting her head up against Alicia’s. Alicia laughs.

“And if I do this—?”

Kalinda arches violently underneath the sheets. “Fuck. Just— please.”

“You want me to let you come?” Alicia brings their foreheads back together. “Should I let you come?”

“Please.” Kalinda’s panting now, her hand clenched in Alicia’s hair.

Alicia smiles, her face open and curious, watching Kalinda’s. “So do it,” she laughs. She’s so beautiful. “Come.”

“Fuck,” Kalinda says again. And does.

She’s quiet about it; just heavy breathing and a few shuddering gasps. But she arches into Alicia, tosses her head back and forth slowly. Whines. It’s more than enough for Will – he’s rock-hard by the end.

Apparently it’s enough for Alicia too. “Huh,” she says, breathless, face still right up against Kalinda’s. “You really—”

Kalinda kisses her. Hard. Will can hear the clink of their teeth knocking together as she tilts her chin up, closed-lipped and shaking.

For a full ten seconds, Alicia goes stock-still.



It takes Will a little while to understand how good his guess was. He doesn’t realize in the bar, or in the cab. Doesn’t notice in the kitchen, Kalinda swinging her feet and saying she wants you to fuck her. Not even during that first stumble to the bedroom, when he puts his hand on Kalinda’s neck and pushes, risks being wrong. Or the moment when she lowers her head and he isn’t.

(Doesn’t notice that while yes, yes, he was right, it was women in general—)

Not even when he rolls on the condom, slides into Alicia for the first time, Kalinda silent and watching.

(—his redheaded assistant and the blonde PI, the FBI liaison in particular, maybe—)

No, when Will finally pulls his head out of his ass and clues in it’s practically the eleventh hour, Alicia relaxing under him in the afterglow, murmuring Kalinda hasn’t had her turn like please pass the salt, and even then it takes Will a minute; the flash of panic in Kalinda’s eyes, the way she kissed him in the kitchen – close-mouthed and careful, watching Alicia over his shoulder.

(—it was also Alicia. Just Alicia.)



When Kalinda kisses her, Alicia holds completely still for a full ten seconds.

Then some sort of dam breaks and she’s kissing back, they’re kissing, mouths slicking over chins messily, tongues and teeth into bottom lips. Kalinda threads both arms around Alicia’s neck, rolls them over.

“Let me,” she pants in between kisses, “you have to let me—”

“Yes,” Alicia hisses, even though Kalinda’s already snuck a hand between their bodies and Will can hear it, how wet everything is. “Please.”

It’s quick. Kalinda bites at Alicia’s neck, her shoulder, sounding nearly delirious as she murmurs, “Come on”, makes wordless noises of encouragement. And then Alicia’s arching up, and she’s not quiet – is moaning in that full-throated way that nearly drives Will insane, her legs canted wide and hungry on the bed. Kalinda watches with naked fascination.

—Then she looks over at Will and laughs.



“So are you two—?” Will asks, three weeks, a month, a year later.

Kalinda looks like she’s going to default to a blank stare; tell him to fuck off, maybe.

But then she doesn’t.



Kalinda’s laugh is clear and crisp like a bell.

“Alicia,” she murmurs. “We, uh—” She gestures to where Will’s erection is tenting the sheets.

“Don’t mind me,” Will tries to say, but he has to clear his throat three times before he starts, so.

Alicia raises an eyebrow (beautiful, she’s so—). “Kalinda, I think Will needs you to ‘mind’ him.” And god, he’s flushed all over again, mouth smudged and red. Her palm is open against Kalinda’s back, slow-circles.

“Wi-ill,” Kalinda murmurs, leaning over him. It’s like he’s a bad puppy. “Need help?”

It’s beginning to dawn on Will that three is an awkward number (and he knew that, he knew, he just hadn’t expected it to be awkward like this).

Still. He threads his fingers through Kalinda’s hair, lets her hide her smile in his mouth. He can feel it curve against his lips, sharp and relieved and aching. Her hand is still slick.

It doesn’t take long.



Three weeks or a month or a year later: “I—” Kalinda shifts her weight, stares past his shoulder. “…don’t know?” And it comes out like a question.

“Well,” Will says, “word on the street is I’m a pretty good wingman.”

“I’ll buy you a drink,” Will says.

“You could talk to me about it,” Will says.

And – three weeks, a month, a year, and a day later – Kalinda says: “Sure.”