A/N: *hides face* …So this started out as a stupid joke with friends months ago but then the idea wouldn't leave me, so of course I had to write it out. Er, enjoy? (Please don't come at me with pitchforks.)

"This is insane."
"Do you want to stop?"
"No."

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.

"Oh?"

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?

"Jane."

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—

"Stop."

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—"

"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.

"Well?"

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.

A/N: There will, of course, be a part two. ;) If you have thoughts on this first chapter, please leave a review. I worked really hard to make the (somewhat outlandish) base plot of this fic as realistic as possible. Let me know how it went over! :)