Title: Three's a Crowd, Five's an Orgy

Beta: lady_of_scarlet

Pairings: Team!

Summary: "Do you really think that seducing Jane into having a threesome with us so that we can blackmail him into not blackmailing us will make him less lonely?" –Wayne Rigby

Disclaimer: The show will never go in this direction, and my lack of acceptance for this has led to my rambling night-time fantasies taking over. Forgive me, CBS.


"He did what?" Grace asked in shock. Her spoon hovered in mid-air, pudding forgotten. A smudge of chocolate decorated the corner of her mouth, and Rigsby was deeply tempted to lick it off.

"He threatened to tell Lisbon about us, unless I helped him in his scheme," Rigsby whispered back, eyes flickering nervously to make sure that no one was listening. Cho and Lisbon were talking about gun maintenance, and Jane was psychic, so they were fucking screwed anyway. "And he made me make him tea."

"That's appalling!" Grace exclaimed, waving the spoon. The gob of chocolate on it wobbled precariously.

Rigsby winced as he hushed her. "No, it was Earl Grey, and I got a cup too, so it wasn't that bad. I was more afraid that he would tell Lisbon, anyway."

Cho glanced over, and Rigsby half-shouted something about baseball to make their conversation seem more innocent.

"The Red Sox are not sissy britches!" Grace gasped, her face twisting in rage. Cho looked sort of pissed, too.

Rigsby paled, remembering their last argument over baseball. "I didn't mean it," he promised, looking over at Lisbon, who wasn't paying attention at all. "I was trying to distract people."

Grace gave him a once over, glaring to make sure that yes, Rigsby had not lost his mind, and yes, she could continue to suffer him to live. "Well," she began, her voice cool enough to freeze over the Gulf of Mexico, "I suppose we should do something about Jane, then."

Rigsby nodded vigorously, relieved at his escape. "Exactly! Who knows what he'll make us do next?" Rigsby sighed mournfully. Jane was the kind of bastard who, having found a weak spot, would come back every week or two to prod it to make sure it hadn't gone away. They had to nip this thing in the bud.

Grace said as much to Rigsby.

"But how?" he responded, curious as to whether she had actually thought this out.

Grace's eyes twinkled, and she sent an indecipherable look toward Jane. "Why don't we talk about this over lunch?"


The bistro was ill-lit, warm, and smelled strongly of salami. Grace hated salami, but Rigsby loved it, and she was going to need him in a good mood to get him to agree to her Plan. Therefore: Mr. Panchetti's Deli and Dinner.

"Hear me out," she warned him, resting her hand over his, and widening her eyes just so. "I have an Idea."

Rigsby nodded, his mouth filled with food. He noted, warily, the emphasis on Idea.

"You see," she began, a trifle awkwardly. "It's not fair or right that our dating has led to this." She noted Rigsby's sudden pallor, and hastily amended her statement. "I'm not breaking up with you! It's just completely unfair, you know?" Rigsby nodded loyally, and she was struck again by how much she liked him. He was adorable! "So, I say we make sure it never happens again. Not only that, we make him regret ever trying to blackmail us."

Rigsby swallowed, and sipped carefully at his drink. He had no idea how she intended to achieve this, but he was onboard so far. "How do we do that?" he asked.

Grace smiled, pleased. Plans worked so much better with someone to prompt you! Not that she had been practicing this speech in front of her mirror for that last few weeks. Or months.

"I think we need something to hold over his head. Something to make sure that whenever he tries something like that again, we can just give him a look, and he'll back down." She leaned in, voice hushing to an intimate whisper. It was best to get Rigsby's blood pumping now, she justified, quite deliberately twining a lock of hair around her finger.

"That sounds great," Rigsby enthused. "But what could we possibly hold over Jane's head?"

"I've given it a lot of thought," Grace warned him again, hair-curling turning a little frenetic. One in the hand, one in the bush, and, although that didn't sound too bad, she wanted both in her hand. "And I think that we should seduce Jane. As revenge."

Rigsby choked on a sausage. "As what—why—the hell Grace?" he managed to wheeze out as she whacked him on the back, helping to dislodge the meat stuck in his throat.

"It's perfectly logical," Grace lied, handing Rigsby a napkin. "If he's sleeping with us too, then he'll have no reason to blackmail us."

"Wait, sleeping—as in you want to do it more than once?" Rigsby sputtered.

Grace gave him a benevolent smile. He was already considering doing it once. Excellent.

"He looks so lonely, Wayne," she said it softly, her eyes brimming with crocodile tears. "I just can't bear to think—" she broke off the sentence and allowed Rigsby to fill in the blanks.

Rigsby hesitated, thinking of how lonely Jane looked. Not very, to be honest, but if Grace had seen it then maybe he had just missed it. "Do you really think that seducing Jane into having a threesome with us so that we can blackmail him into not blackmailing us will make him less lonely?"

Grace curled her hair around her finger. "I just can't think of what else to do," she murmured sadly, dropping her eyes to the tablecloth.

"We could get him chocolates, or something," Rigsby suggested.

"But then he could still blackmail us!" Grace protested, meeting his eyes. She gave him her very best disappointed face, learnt at her granny's knee. "Just think about it, won't you?"


Rigsby sat at his desk and tried desperately to not think about it.

Grace walked by, giving him a look that made him feel like the scum of the earth for not agreeing to have a threesome with another man so they could blackmail him into not being lonely. And not blackmailing them. Her face cleared when Jane walked in and lied down on his couch, and she glanced back over at Rigsby, a slow smile blooming.

She sauntered over to the couch and leaned over it, ostentatiously closing the window blinds. Rigsby was struck by the knowledge that the edge of her skirt was brushing across Jane's arm. All Jane had to do was—

Jane opened his eyes, breathing in the sweet, clean scent of Grace. Her silk skirt brushed over his arm, and she glanced down at him, a challenging half-smirk telling him that it was deliberate.

Grace stretched up a bit more, reaching for the very edge of the window and untucking her shirt. Jane could see straight up it to the flimsy lace bra that covered her breasts, the faintest hint of rose colored nipples peeking through the white mesh.

He lifted his hand, brushing it along the inside of her thigh as a test. Grace glanced down, smiled, and put a knee up onto the couch to give her that extra inch she needed to close the window. His arm was concealed by her skirt.

Jane brought his hand up in a slow caress, trailing over the soft, smooth skin on the inside of her leg. Grace shuddered softly and suddenly had a great deal of difficulty with the third latch.

He reached higher, her skirt draping around his arm as he ran his fingers over her—

"I can't get it to close." Rigsby heard Grace telling Jane, her voice shaking him free of the fantasy. "Will you help me?"

Jane stood and pushed the window in as Grace worked the latches, murmuring a comment too low for Rigsby to hear.

Grace laughed in response, thanking Jane—

And sinking to her knees, her fingers hooking onto Jane's belt. "Allow me to thank you," she purred, deftly unzipping his pants.

Jane smirked down at Grace and ran his hand down her cheek, holding it under her jaw in a distinct gesture of possession. "If you insist," he replied huskily.

Grace grinned at him wickedly as she undid his belt, leaning in close enough that Jane could feel her breath through the thin layer—

"You're thinking about it, aren't you?" Grace asked, leaning against Rigsby's desk. She skimmed a finger over his paperwork and turned, heading back to her desk—

Where Jane was waiting, sitting on the edge in a casual sprawl, his legs spread wide.

Grace returned to her knees, her hands tucked behind her back. She leaned in, pressing her cheek against his inner thigh, brushing her lips over the cloth that covered his—

Jane tapped on Rigsby's desk, tearing his attention away from Grace. "Working hard?" Jane smiled broadly and glanced toward Grace. She waved.

Rigsby stuttered an answer, blushing furiously. Jane leaned in—

"Or playing hard?" Jane asked, barely an inch from Rigsby's face.

His breath smelled like cinnamon, Rigsby realized, as Jane brushed a chaste kiss over his lips. Rigsby's eyes fluttered shut, welcoming the second, bolder advance.

Their lips parted and Jane crawled onto Rigsby's desk, the ridiculous motion sublimely graceful when Jane did it. Rigsby would have looked like a beached whale floundering on a beach. Jane reached out and grabbed Rigsby's tie, using it as a handle to pull him closer. "Do you want me?" he asked, sounding genuinely curious.

Rigsby swallowed, watching Jane crawl over the edge of his desk and into his lap. Jane tugged on his tie, using it as a leash to pull Rigsby's head to the side. "Do you?" Jane grazed his lips over the edge his ear, the faintest hint of teeth scraping—

Jane grabbed a pen and retreated to his couch, giving Rigsby a strange look.

"You're totally thinking about it." Cho muttered out of the side of his mouth as he passed by.

Rigsby jolted to his feet, following Cho. "How the—" He glanced at Jane, and moderated his tone. "How did you know?"

"I have ears," Cho replied, giving Rigsby the flat look that totally meant he was laughing at him.

"You weren't even there," Rigsby hissed, grabbing Cho's arm and steering him out of the office into the hall. "How did you know?"

Cho glanced down and then gave Rigsby his, 'well, this is uncomfortable' look. Rigsby let go of his arm, and looked down at himself. He cursed.

"Look, we'll talk about this later, okay?" Rigsby called over his shoulder as he strode quickly towards the washroom.

"Right," Cho replied, walking back into the office.


Grace settled contentedly into her chair. A wicked grin slipped out before she caught herself.


Jane watched the team through half-closed eyes. Van Pelt was up to something. He could sense it in his scheming bone (actually, a ligament located slightly above his knee). And Rigsby was freaking out about it. He didn't need his scheming bone to figure that out.

Jane pressed back into the couch, thinking. Rigsby looked pale and a trifle panicked every time Van Pelt so much as twitched. When he had followed Cho out—Jane licked his lips—Rigsby had most definitely been aroused. He was nervous and thinking about something intently. Something sexual. Something Van Pelt had suggested to him.

Jane shifted restlessly, nestling into the warm embrace of the couch. What could make Rigsby—

Wayne pulled against the restraints, looking over his shoulder at Grace. "Listen, Grace, I'm not sure about this."

She smiled enigmatically. "You agreed," Grace murmured, rising up and over him, pressing her naked body against his back, thigh high stockings sliding over his skin in a smooth caress. She traced lines down his side, provoking a shiver. "You said you would try it," she breathed onto his neck, redirecting her hand to rest on the small of his back.

Wayne tensed under her touch. "I can still say no though, right?" he asked, twisting to watch her as she rose to her knees. "I can tell you to stop, and you will?"

Grace smirked at him as she opened the nightstand, pulling a mass of gleaming leather straps from the drawer. "Of course," she promised sweetly. "But you don't want me to stop."

Wayne settled into the bed sheets, warily content with her answer.

Grace stretched toward the nightstand, her breasts swaying beautifully in the dim lamp light. She pulled back, holding a white bottle advertising 'the smoothest glide!' Grace dropped a kiss on his shoulder as she uncapped the lid. She nipped at the nape of his neck and tilted the bottle so it poured out onto his back.

Wayne squeaked and fought against the leather cuffs. "It's cold!" he complained, trying to turn over and wipe it off.

Grace sat in the middle of his back to pin him. "It should be," she replied. "It was in the freezer until about half an hour ago."

"What? Why?" Wayne questioned, wiggling under her. "Why would you put it in the freezer?"

"It seemed like a good idea at the time," Grace gave him a gentle smack as a warning to behave. He quieted.

Grace up ended the bottle again, pouring it over his back, drawing it down so the clear trickle of liquid dripped into the crack of Wayne's ass.

Wayne shivered, the muscles in his legs tensing as he fought to keep from moving. The cold liquid slid down, trailing over—

"Jane, I'm making tea." Grace leaned over the arm of the couch, looking into his face. "Do you want some?"

"Sure," Jane managed to reply after a moment. He coughed. "With honey?" he requested, smiling up at her.

"Okay, it'll be done in a second." Van Pelt pulled away, wandering back into the break room.

Jane got up and walked toward the washroom, passing Rigsby at the door.


Rigsby passed Jane in the doorway, the sleeve of his jacket brushing over Rigsby's arm. Rigsby hesitated, only for a moment, then hurried over to Cho's desk.

"So seriously, how did you know?" Rigsby whispered despite the fact that they were alone. Lisbon could walk in at any moment. Or Jane could, which would also suck.

"It was obvious," Cho waved away the question. "So are you going to do it?"

"What—? No! Of course not." Rigsby shuffled uncomfortably. "I'm not—"

"Gay?" Cho suggested when Rigsby didn't continue. He signed another form, adding it to the pile.


"Not really an issue though, is it?" Cho pointed out, skimming through the newest lawsuit before throwing it into the trash. "It's Jane. It's not like she's not asking you to have a threesome with me."

Rigsby hesitated, looking Cho over and thinking—

Cho rose to his feet, hooking his hands on his belt in a deliberate challenge. "Or would you prefer it was me?" he asked, stripping off his suit jacket—

"No." Cho rapped Rigsby's knuckles, scowling. "I asked if you really thought wanting Jane makes you gay, not if you wanted to sleep with me."

Rigsby blushed. "Jane is a guy," he protested. "That's pretty gay." He deliberately didn't meet Cho's eyes.

"Pfft," Cho told him seriously. "If wanting Patrick Jane makes you gay, then there aren't any straight men in this building." He nodded decisively. "Wanting to fuck Jane? Totally not gay."

"You're sure?" Rigsby asked tentatively, wanting to take the reassurance, but sensing that there was an issue with it. "I mean—wait." He looked at Cho suspiciously. "Everyone? Like, the including you kind of everyone?"

Cho gave him a level look. "If Jane was tied up and in my bed, no one would ever see him again." A thoughtful look crossed his face. "Ever," he reiterated, signing off on another report.

Rigsby blinked and leaned back carefully. He had no idea if that was a positive or negative response, but he sure as hell wasn't going to tie up Jane and put him in Cho's bed now. Not that he was going to do that before, but now he had made a note of it. If Jane needed to be tied up and thrown into someone's bed, it ought to be Rigsby's bed. Or maybe Grace's, she had nicer sheets.

"It's not gay, and your girlfriend wants to have a crazy threesome. Do it." Cho pointed his pen at Rigsby for a second, and then paused before continuing, a little wistfully. "And, if, when you're done with him…"

Rigsby backed up and nearly ran into Grace, who was holding two mugs of tea. "I'll—ah—Grace, I mean…Van Pelt, hi!" He grabbed one of the mugs for her. "Let me help you with that."

Cho returned to his paperwork. "Subtle," he muttered.


"…thanks?" Grace replied uncertainly, allowing Rigsby to take one of the teas. "That one's mine, you can put it on my desk. This one's Jane's," she told him, heading over toward the couch. Rigsby hesitated, drawing her attention.

He was blushing. Because she mentioned Jane. Grace restrained herself from giggling in delight. Now what could—

Jane rested a hand on Rigsby's shoulder, whispering softly to him. Slowly, the light weight of Jane's hand seemed to grow heavier, pushing Rigsby down until he was kneeing in front of Jane.

Jane lifted his hand and ran it through Rigsby's hair. His other hand remained casually tucked into his pocket.

Rigsby looked up, meeting Jane's eyes as he brought his hands up and working clumsily to open the buttons.

"Good Boy," Jane murmured, dragging a finger across Rigsby's lips.

Rigsby succeeded in freeing Jane from his pants, pushing them down to his knees and leaning in, his hands bracketing Jane's hips. His breath breezed over Jane as he looked up, nervously.

Jane smiled, distant and inviolate.

Rigsby bowed his head, giving Jane—

Jane walked back in. Rigsby set the mug on her desk and went to his own, deliberately not looking at Jane. Grace smiled and handed her mug to Jane. "Milk and honey."

He settled onto the couch, holding the mug carefully to avoid spills. "Thank you."

Grace nodded thoughtfully. Jane smelled of hand soap. And he looked ever so slightly flushed and relaxed. As a matter of fact, he smelled strongly of hand soap. She tapped the handle of her mug, thinking. Jane must have—

Jane walked into the empty washroom, relaxed expression disappearing from his face. He hurried into the handicapped stall, locking it behind him and then slumped against the wall, letting out a heavy sigh as he unbuttoned his slacks.

Jane gripped himself, stroking—

"Do you want to meet for dinner tonight?" Rigsby asked, handing her a file folder. He didn't meet her eyes, focusing intently on the papers he was handing her.

Grace smiled. He was definitely thinking about it.


Rigsby set down his fork. "How?" he asked.

Grace blinked in carefully crafted confusion. "The Crème Brule?" she eventually asked, looking at the empty dish, thin lines of burnt sugar painting the edges of the cup. "I think they use a blow torch." She tapped the cup with her fork and added, "One of the ones that's used for cooking, not welding."

"Um. No." Rigsby shuffled in his chair.

Grace gave him a falsified look of incomprehension. She needed him to say it out loud.

"How do we—" Rigsby looked around furtively. "How do we convince…ah—yeah, convince, Jane?"

Grace laid the fork across her plate, the tiny clink barely audible. "Convince him to do what?"

"To—you know," Rigsby muttered, glancing warily at the waiter, who was on the other side of the room. "Why do I have to say it?"

"Because if you aren't mature enough to say it then you aren't mature enough to do it," Grace lectured, giving him her stern look.

"But really, every time?" Rigsby protested, fidgeting with his napkin. He looked like he would rather be anywhere but there.

"Look Wayne, speaking as one who has had your cock in my mouth, I'd like to point out that you being unable to ask for a blow job and trying to convey your desire with charades was funny. Not sexy."

Rigsby stared at her mouth, brick-red blush rising on his cheeks and Grace took the opportunity to roll her eyes. "Wayne, what was it that you wanted?"

"I…" He quit staring at her mouth. "I want to—sleep with you and Jane," he mumbled quickly, taking a drink from his water glass.

"Great, we'll all have a nap." Grace raised an eyebrow, a new skill she was rather proud of. Three days with a mirror, made worth it in the instant that Jane had begun another arrogant rant about how he knew best.

Grace laughed. "I like to think that I have good ideas too," she mused thoughtfully, letting her leg fall against the bed. She twisted her fingers in Jane's hair, holding his face down.

"Oh damn it," Rigsby said. He drank the rest of his water, and chewed on an ice cube for good measure. "I would like to have sex with you and Jane. At the same time." He blushed.

"Clinical, but acceptable," Grace decided. She flagged down the waiter. "Check please."

"So… how?" Rigsby asked once the waiter had left the bill.

"We'll talk once we're at my place," Grace told him, paying for their meal. She strode out of the restaurant, Rigsby following.


"It's like this," Grace said, unbuttoning Wayne's shirt as he tried to undo her bra clasp. "I don't think Jane has slept with anyone since his wife died." She frowned thoughtfully. "I mean, I don't think. He could, I suppose, but he's always been very keen on wearing his wedding ring."

"Does that make it easier or harder?" Rigsby mused, letting go of the clasp so she could push his shirt off his shoulders.

"Both." Grace unbuckled his belt and pulled it out fast enough that it hissed. She gave it a lingering, fond glance before dropping it on the floor next to his shirt. "He's got to be dying for sex—it's been five years. But convincing him is bound to be difficult if he still considers himself married." She turned around so Wayne could see what he was doing.

Wayne pushed the tiny button in and wondered why every bra ever had a different locking mechanism. "So how do we convince him? And it's not really cheating, is it?"

"We seduce him. And no. She's dead, and he doesn't believe in the afterlife. "

"Harsh," Wayne commented.

Grace shrugged out of her bra and dropped it onto the growing pile of clothes on her floor. Wayne watched her attentively; his gaze focused about a foot below her eyes. "It's not my grief." Grace knows it's callous, but she's also rather certain that Mrs. Jane is watching Mr. Jane from somewhere. She's dead, not gone.

Wayne nodded distractedly.

Grace smiled. It was nice to be appreciated.

"Okay, I'm going to need more details than just that," Wayne replied, tearing his eyes away from her chest. His resolve faltered quickly and he returned to watching her breasts as she unbuttoned her practical grey slacks and shimmied out of them.

Grace smirked and lunged at Wayne, toppling him onto the bed. "We catch him off guard," she whispered into his ear, biting his earlobe for good measure.

"But that's not nearly enough," Wayne said hopefully, resting his hands on her waist.

Grace chuckled, scraping her nails down his chest, pausing to pinch his nipples. "Then we do naughty, naughty things to him."

"Wait, I have to describe in detail, in public, and you get away with saying something as vague as naughty in private?" Wayne protested, flipping her and pulling her higher up on the bed.

"Oh, you want me to tell you in detail?" Grace asked, arching an eyebrow. Her smile was more leer than grin.

Wayne kissed her, cupping one of her breasts in his hand, rolling her nipple between his fingers, using just a little nail, exactly as she had taught him. Grace sighed happily, hooking a leg around his waist and grinding into him.

"It would go like this," she began, slowly rubbing herself against him, kissing him fast before continuing. "We'd pick a date, and time, and a place."

"Boring," Wayne told her, sliding his hand into her lacey underwear and finding exactly the right spot (again as she had taught him). "Can we skip to the seduction part?"

"The plotting part is important, too," Grace defended, rocking into his hand. "But if you insist…"

"I do," Wayne said, biting her lower lip.

"We'd be somewhere where we wouldn't be interrupted. Maybe even here," Grace murmured softly, licking her lips. "We would have fed him first. Traditional aphrodisiacs, so he'd be thinking, wondering if we knew what we had done, if we did it on purpose."

Wayne laughed. "Still, no details."

"Setting is important!" Grace protested. "Anyway, Jane would be curious, and maybe a little worried. We'd invite him to sit on the couch for a nightcap, one last glass of wine and we sit, one of us on each side of him. He'd be really suspicious then, but he wouldn't say anything."

Wayne's hand slowed down, and he gave Grace a meaningful look. Grace rolled her eyes.

"I would offer Jane something from the coffee table, and I'd have to lean over him to grab it. I would brush against him as I did so, and that's when he would know. He'd protest, and insist that we had the wrong impression." Grace paused.

"And then what?" Wayne asked, watching her intently.

Grace pressed into his hand.

Wayne gave her a series of quick strokes and stopped. "More when you get to the good stuff," he promised.

"Fine," she huffed. "Then you would go into action."

"I would?"

"You would," she confirmed. "You would put your arm around his shoulders, and your hand on his knee, and you'd ask him if he was sure. You'd move your hand a little, a tiny caress. Jane would be uncertain, and he might try to move his leg away. You'd follow."

"What if I fumbled it?" Wayne asked, suddenly nervous.

"Don't worry, we'll do a couple of dry runs before the night in question," Grace reassured him. "He'd look at me, making sure I was onboard with this, but then he'd protest again. He might drink the last of his wine in one big gulp, then again, he might lean forward to put it on the coffee table. Either way, I would crawl into his lap and straddle his thigh. The one you weren't holding on to."

She kissed him, a smile crossing her face at the entranced look on Wayne's face. "I'd lean in close and ask him again if he was sure that he didn't want this. Jane would be a little panicked, and maybe he'd insult me, telling me that we'd gotten our signals crossed."

"This is going to take a really long time," Rigsby commented, shifting so he was lying on his side beside her.

"Do you want a story about us seducing Jane, or that guy in the mailroom?" Grace retorted.

"That guy from the mailroom?" Wayne asked, idly slipping a finger into her.

Grace spread her legs to allow him easier access. "Yeah, the guy in the mailroom is a total slut."

"Seriously?" Wayne stroked slowly, watching her push up against his hand in unsubtle encouragement.

"Totally." Grace kissed him again, a quick brush of her lips. "Anyway, back to the plan of how we're going to seduce Patrick Jane."


"Anyway," Grace continued, pinching Wayne's nipple to keep his attention. "He'd probably insult me, but I'd give him a sad look, and he'd back down long enough for me to kiss him. You'll have to hold him down then, because he'll probably try to escape. I think he'll like being held down, so don't worry about that."

"What if he really doesn't want to have sex with us?" Wayne asked.

"We'll give him once last opportunity before we try stripping him, but if we let him up before then, we'll lose him. Besides, I'm pretty certain that he wants to watch us have sex, if nothing else." Grace twisted her hips into his hand as a reminder to Wayne that she was still there, thank you very much.

"Really? How do you know that?"

Grace gave him a look. "Right, I'll tell you that story later. Anyway, hopefully he'd stop resisting after I made out with him for a while, but he probably won't, so you're going to kiss him."

"I will?"

"You will. You'll let go of his thigh and rest your hand on his hip, and rub your thumb along his belly. If you can un-tuck his shirt and get at skin, that would be great," she whispered to Wayne, drawing him into a kiss and resting her hand on his hip, tracing circles on his stomach with her thumb. Wayne's a kinesthetic learner, after all.

"Finally," he murmured, slowly rubbing his hand against her.

"If you hadn't interrupted me—" Grace lectured, before being distracted by Wayne's clever fingers. "Mmmm... Then I'd cover your hand with mine before I ran my hand lightly, very lightly, over his groin. He'd be hard." Grace dropped her hand so it rested lightly over Wayne's erection, brushing the fabric of his pants, and through it, the hard line of his cock.

She kissed him again, whispering against his lips. "You'd kiss him, and he'd taste like red wine. He won't resist you now, and you'll be able to feel him arching into my hand, tentative, like he's afraid that showing desire will make us stop. You'll wrap your arms around him, like you're promising that he'll never be alone again."

Wayne wrapped his free arm around Grace, letting her head rest on his shoulder. He pressed a kiss to her temple, and waited for her to continue.

"I'll slide off him and to the floor, and I'll kneel between his legs as I watch you touch him." Grace brushed her lips across Wayne's and then wiggling free of his hands and slid down the bed until she was level with his hips. "You'll take the opportunity to put your hand between his legs, and just let it rest there. He'll be so hard that he'll think he might come at the slightest friction. You won't give him any."

Wayne looked down at Grace curiously, and she gave him an impish smile before she took his hand and placed it between his legs. He laughed and didn't move, as per her instructions.

"I'll slide in between his legs until his knees are pressing against my shoulders, and then you'll move your hand so I can rest my head on his thigh. My mouth will be inches from his cock and my breath will tease him." Wayne lifted his hand to pet her hair as Grace pushed him onto his back, laying her head on his thigh and blowing a stream of air over the erection straining the fly of his pants.

"You'll bring your hand up and use it to hold his face still as you kiss him like he's someone special, like you love him." Grace smiled at Wayne's dubious look. "You might not, but Jane deserves to be loved the night we take him to our bed." She kissed Wayne through the fabric.

"Then you'll let Jane go and you'll lean back, not touching him at all. I'll do the same." Grace retreated to the other side of the bed. "He'll look at you and then me, confused and maybe a little afraid or upset. You'll smile at him, and I'll do the same." Wayne smiled at her and she had to catch her breath at how much she loved him.

Grace continued, her voice a little choked from emotion. "We'll ask him, together, if he wants to come to bed with us. You'll reassure him that if he says no, we won't hate him, or be upset. He can leave if he wants to. Jane will make a joke, it will be inappropriate and he'll probably accuse us of raping him. We'll both ignore it, and I'll tell him that if he decides he doesn't want to have sex with us, we will have sex with each other instead."

Wayne looked skeptical and Grace smiled reassuringly at him. "I'll tell him that, if he doesn't want to have sex with us, we have a very comfortable armchair in the bedroom, and he's welcome to watch us if he wants. He'll probably refuse to do either."

Wayne looked confused, and Grace continued. "He'll try to leave, and he'll be upset. Jane will want us to make him stay. You'd request one last kiss, and so would I. We'll hold him in our arms. You'll pull him tight to you and show him how aroused you are by the thought of having him in our bed." Grace crawled over Wayne and hovered over him, the distance of a missing body between them.

"I'll press against his back, my breasts pushing into his back. I'll watch you kiss him, watch him respond. When you part, I'll seize his lips before he has a chance to talk and I'll kiss him like I want him. Hard." Grace hovered over Rigsby, not touching him, her face solemn.

"Eventually Jane will pull away and we'll both kiss him on the cheek, affectionately. Then we will kiss each other." Grace lay down on Wayne and kissed him slow and sweet.

"We'll kiss like we love each other," she whispered into his ear. They pressed bare chest to bare chest and she could feel his heart beating nearly as fast as hers. A soft intake of breath signaled that he had heard her.

"It'll last a while, but when we're done, we'll invite him to watch us again. This time, he'll agree." Grace shifted against Rigsby slowly, kissing below his ear, light butterfly kisses.

"We'll go to my bedroom and Jane will sit in the chair. We'll undress each other in front of him, and his hands will hold onto the arms of the chair so hard that his knuckles turn white." Grace rose off Wayne and unbuttoned his pants, pushing them down. He lifted his hips helpfully, and kicked them off once they reached his knees.

Wayne rolled her underwear down her legs, causing an awkward tangle as Grace tried to get it past her knees. "We'll practice that too," Grace promised, chuckling.

She grabbed his hand and led him to the edge of the bed, in front of the mirror. "We'll sit right in front of him, naked in the lamp light," she said, pushing Wayne to sit in front of the mirror, naked. Grace looked in the mirror, Wayne sat, his legs spread, thick cock pointing at the ceiling. She admired him for a moment.

"I'll discreetly grab a condom from the nightstand and put it on you," she continued, rummaging through the drawer and then slamming it shut once she found what she was looking for.

"Very discreetly," Wayne laughed, his eyes soft with affection. Grace rolled her eyes and tore the package open, rolling it down the length of Wayne's erection. He played with her hair carefully, wary of pulling it.

"You will caress me, and we'll kiss," Grace murmured, echoing her words in touch. "And then you'll arrange me so we're both facing Jane, me in front of you." Wayne guided Grace into position, watching her in the mirror. Her skin gleamed warm-gold in the lamp light, faintly damp with sweat.

"You pull me down so that you're almost entering me, and we stay like that for a moment, letting Jane watch. You rest your hands on my hips and slowly push me down until your body presses against mine, filling me completely." Grace let out a soft sigh of contentment as Wayne obeyed.

"We'll make love," she said, rocking slowly. "While Jane watches." She opened her eyes and stared at herself in the mirror, seeing the faded edges of a ghost.

Wayne stroked her in slow caresses that ended in circles over the most sensitive part of her.

"I'll come," Grace moaned, shaking for a moment and pressing down so he filled her fully. She leaned against his chest before continuing. "And you'll open your eyes to watch me. When you do, you see Jane."

Wayne shuddered, pausing before continuing the achingly slow thrusts Grace had begun. "What next?" he whispered.

"He's watching us, and his hands are in his lap. It's obvious that he's aroused. He isn't touching himself though, and he glances at you warily when he sees you looking at him. You smile at him."

Wayne smiled at the mirror. Grace laughed quietly. His smile would convince her to masturbate, she thought in an aroused amusement. She gasped as she came again, Wayne's hands rubbing delightful patterns into her skin.

"Your smile reassures him and Jane unzips his pants while you watch. He's blushing because we're watching, but he does it anyway."

Wayne pulled her into a sloppy kiss, both of them panting and shuddering, trying to stave off orgasm until the end of the story. Grace returned her gaze to the mirror, barely seeing herself through the ghost of Jane, his pants having settled around his knees, his cock in his hand. Jane stroked himself slowly, obviously close.

"Jane's pants are around his knees now, and he's touching himself. You can tell that he's close to the edge, and so are you." Grace moaned low and soft, and the sound was for Jane, alone in the chair. "You lift me off the bed and you push us both to the floor."

"Gently," she added belatedly, rubbing at what she was sure would be a new bruise. Wayne blushed and tried to apologize. She hushed him. "You flip me over and kneel between my legs, lifting them so they settle over your shoulders. My head is only a foot away from Jane's feet, and he's sitting on the very edge of chair. You use the new angle to fuck me, fast and hard."

Grace gasped, twisting as she came again, watching Jane stoke himself over her. "You—can see—that Jane—has sped up, too," she panted between Wayne's thrusts. "He's very close—you watch him and you both come—at the same time."

Wayne growled, slamming forcefully into Grace. She felt him twitching inside her, and she came hard, watching as Jane squeezed his eyes shut and thrust into his hand. Hot stripes of phantom semen striped her face, and Grace orgasmed again, fast on the heels of her last one.

"His come landed on my face," Grace continued, blinking languidly, a pleasant lassitude sinking into her bones. "You pull me up and lick it off while he watches."

Wayne complied, sitting bring her up to rest in his lap, still half-hard inside her. A soft look of fascination crossed Jane's face, and he reached out as it to touch her. His wedding ring gleamed softly in the light.

Jane's eyes met hers as he flickered and disappeared, leaving only their reflection in the mirror. She sighed and hugged Wayne. "He sits very still, as if hoping we won't notice him sitting there," Grace said quietly. "You ask him if he wants to sleep with us tonight, and miracle of miracles, he accepts."

Wayne hugged her back tightly. "He's gone when we wake up in the morning," Grace whispered. Wayne kissed her cheeks and she thought he might be kissing away her tears, which was ridiculous because the sex was fantastic.

"Are you sure you want to do this?"

"Yeah," she replied, smiling at him. A mischievous idea took hold. "I want to see you fuck him," she added sweetly.

Wayne twitched inside her. "Do you think he'd let me?" he asked hopefully.

"Or maybe he could fuck you," Grace replied, daydreaming happily.

Wayne opened his mouth to protest, but stopped, obviously struck by the idea. "You want that?" he asked, more curious than upset.

Grace kissed him quickly and stood up. "We should have a shower," she suggested, heading toward the en suite, running a hand through her hair. She frowned in distress when her fingers got caught in knots.


"Wait, you want me to do what now?" Jane stared at Van Pelt blankly, not comprehending the situation.

"I told you, make your own tea." She glared at him over the newest mountain of paperwork he'd caused. "I have to finish signing off on legal expenses that you caused, and I have to do it by five o'clock."

"Why five?" Jane asked, staring across the vast distance separating him and the break room.

"I have a date," Van Pelt said, signing something.

"What a coincidence, so do I," Rigsby mentioned as he passed by, carrying a cardboard box full of paperwork.

"Me, too." Cho looked up, added to the conversation, and then went back to work.

Van Pelt looked at Jane expectantly. "Uh…" He shrugged. "New book?"

"I thought you were going to go get tea?" she said, a raised eyebrow adding an urbane feel to the statement. Jane wondered idly when she had learned how to do that. He was almost certain she hadn't been able to last month. "…Jane?"



"Oh, right." Jane rolled off the couch. His vision blurred for a second once he reached his feet.

"Since you're up, could you make me tea too?" Van Pelt asked, not looking up from the notification of legal action she was reading through.

"I wouldn't mind a cup," Cho added.

"Oh, me, too," Rigsby said, waving from his desk.

Jane frowned. "Earl Grey?" he asked, heading toward the door.



"Earl Grey is fine." Rigsby shrugged when Van Pelt and Cho looked at him. "What? I like Earl Grey."

Jane sighed discontentedly, trudging toward the break room, feeling very put upon. The kids were learning.


"So…" Rigsby muttered, looking over at Grace. "Why did you invite Cho over?"

Grace smiled. "Well, you know how I told you we'd get some practice in before the big day?" She cut a slice of peach off the core and sucked it slowly into her mouth, licking the juices from her fingers as she did so.

Rigsby watched her tongue dart out from between her lips, tempted to take her hand and lick up the sweet nectar that was dripping down her wrist. Then he would—wait. "Why do we need Cho for practice?"

"Well, we can't do it by ourselves, now can we?" Grace replied, cutting off another slice of peach and sliding it between Rigsby's lips, effectively gagging him for a moment. "And it's either Cho, or we hire a hooker."

Rigsby paused, unsure of how to respond to that. "Cho won't want to?" he tried uncertainly.

"Neither will Jane." Grace stuck the remaining half a peach into his mouth, returning to chopping the rest of the peaches for the salad.

Rigsby chewed the remaining flesh from the pit and then threw it in the compost bucket. "But… Grace… it'll be gay," he protested, trying to find the right excuse to make her not make him use his best friend as a practice doll for seduction techniques.

"Wayne." She frowned at him. "First, there is absolutely nothing wrong with being gay." She gave him a disappointed look. "Second, we are planning to seduce Patrick Jane. As in, have sex with him. And, despite his last name, I'm quite certain that he has a full set of male genitalia. Please tell me how that won't be gay."

"It's Jane," Rigsby said, frowning in confusion. "Wanting him isn't gay."

"Right, of course not. What about having gay sex with him, would that be gay?" Grace asked, sounding exasperated.

"Of course not—oh." Rigsby scratched the back of his head, looking down sheepishly. "Damn it, Cho said it wasn't."

"Actually, I said that wanting to have sex with Jane wasn't gay. I never said that actually fucking him wouldn't be gay." Cho walked in the kitchen door. "What are you making?" he greeted Grace.

"Peach and spinach salad with sautéed sesame tofu over rice." She dumped the peaches into the bowl with the spinach. "Did I leave the front door unlocked?"

"No." Cho stole a slice of peach and ate it.

"But you said you wanted to have sex with Jane, too!" Rigsby pulled the conversation back where it belonged.

"Well, yeah," Cho said. "But that isn't gay."

"But if you had the opportunity, you would be gay for Jane?" Rigsby clarified.

"It would be a worthy sacrifice. Besides, I like women, so I'd be bisexual for him, not gay." Cho leaned against the counter, watching Grace cook. "Do you need help with anything?"

"No, I have it handled."

"Would I be bisexual, too?" Rigsby wondered out loud, feeling somewhat retarded for asking but genuinely needing to know. This had never actually come up before, not even in the locker rooms, because that hadn't been gay. They'd been young and horny. Totally not gay.

"You'd be in bed with your loving girlfriend, fucking a man so she could watch," Grace pointed out, pouring sauce over the tofu. "That sounds pretty bisexual, actually." She paused, tasting the sauce. "But if you had sex with him when I wasn't there, that might be kind of gay." Grace added more salt before turning to face Rigsby head on. "I'm perfectly okay with that, in case you were wondering."

"This is awkward," Cho stated, opening the cupboard and pulling out plates. "I'll set the table."

Cho left for the dining room and Rigsby turned to Grace. "You are going to tell him before you make me do things, right?"

"Do what?" Grace raised an eyebrow and Rigsby wished he'd never helped her learn how to do that. Her face exuded such elegant sarcasm with one eyebrow raised.

"Seduce him," Rigsby muttered.

"Still awkward." Cho grabbed cutlery and left again.

"Of course. It would be sort of cruel if I didn't," Grace replied cheerfully. "I mean, we don't want him to think that you're really putting the moves on him, right?"

"Right," Cho added, opening the drawer and grabbing the nice napkins. "I'd break your arm if you did it without telling me why." He returned to the dining room.

"What the hell?" Rigsby cursed, watching Cho in astonishment. "How does he know?"

"No idea," Grace said, her lips twitching with suppressed laughter.

Rigsby looked at her, using his interrogation face until she cracked up laughing. "You told him beforehand," he realized, feeling relief that he wasn't that obvious. "Wait a second—why did you tell him beforehand?"

"I needed to make sure that you wouldn't freak out and get all—you know—weird on me if I proposed a threesome." Grace poured the tofu over the rice and carried it into the dining room.

Rigsby grabbed the salad and followed her. "But how did he know I wouldn't?" he asked, still confused.

"It was in your file," Cho replied, rearranging one of the placemats a fractional inch to the left, improving the overall composition of the table arrangement in an infinitely small and yet highly noticeable way.

"That was in my file?" Rigsby squeaked, paling noticeably. He nearly dropped the salad bowl.

Cho gave him a long look, before responding. "Yeah, it was."

"I was young and everyone else was doing it too!" Rigsby tried not to panic. Nobody got held to account for youthful foibles, right? "It wasn't gay!" he insisted.

"That's good," Cho said, uncorking the wine bottle. "Because I was lying about it being in your file. I told her that you have sex dreams about Jane when we share hotel rooms."

"You—oh my god, what?" Rigsby could feel his blood pressure rising.

"Though you might want to tell her what you were talking about," Cho added, his 'I am amused' face firmly in place.

"You set the table well," Grace commented, trying to defuse the situation, despite her own obvious glee. "Did I have those wine glasses before?" she asked.

"No." Cho folded the last napkin into an origami dinosaur and pulled out her chair for her.

Rigsby realized that Grace was right. The table looked like something out of Better Homes and Gardens (which Rigsby only ever read in the doctor's office and at the dentist's. And that one time on stake out).

"Yeah. It looks nice," Rigsby said, setting the salad on the table. "Did you dim the lights?" he asked, glancing up at the strangely muted light fixture.

"I replaced the light bulbs. Ambiance is important." Cho sat down, unfolding the dinosaur napkin and placing it in his lap.

Rigsby sat too, gingerly poking at the napkin bull. It had balls. He wasn't certain how he felt about that.

"You're supposed to put it in your lap," Cho told him seriously.

Grace unfolded the rather pretty rose and covered her knees with it. Rigsby followed suit with the bull, grabbing it by the tail and shaking it flat.

"You should make Jane something with avocados in it." Cho poured himself and Rigsby wine (a crisp white that matched the meal perfectly). Grace shook her head when he offered. "Lent?"

Grace nodded, serving herself salad and tofu before passing the dishes to Cho. "Avocados are an aphrodisiac?"

"Actually, they're a folk remedy for impotence." Cho passed the dishes to Rigsby, and caught the expression on Rigsby's face. "You should serve Jane avocados because he likes them."

"Alright," Grace agreed peacefully. "Anything else?"

"No, but I'll keep you informed."

Rigsby paused in the middle of raising his fork to his mouth. "Wait. You have Cho spying on Jane?"

"Of course. This way when we seduce him, he won't be expecting it and it will be a surprise," Grace informed him, delicately biting a slice of peach in half. "It'll throw him off balance and leave him more vulnerable to our advances."

"I see," Rigsby replied. He suddenly wondered how much of his pursuit of Grace had actually been his idea.

"How has your research gone?" Cho asked Grace, sipping at his wine.

"Poorly. Lisbon doesn't appear to actually go anywhere, at any time, for any reason but work. I honestly believe that your best bet would be to kidnap her, however, if we manage to acquire Jane before the deadline we can ask him for advice."

"Why are you stalking Lisbon?" Rigsby asked nervously. He really hoped Lisbon wasn't going to be a part of this too. He liked her, but she was his boss. It would be uncomfortable, and if you threw Jane in too, the power plays would make being in bed with them really awkward. As a matter of fact—

Jane stared at Lisbon. She glared back. Both were fully clothed, each refusing to remove any clothing until the other did.

Grace sat between Rigsby's legs, lying back against his chest. They were naked, and had already had sex. Rigsby was uncertain that Lisbon had even noticed. Jane had glanced over, in a perfunctory manner, before returning his gaze to Lisbon.

Rigsby stirred behind Grace, wondering idly if he had it in him to go again. It looked like this was going to take awhile.

Yeah. Awkward.

"Cho wants her," Grace explained. "I agreed to spy on Lisbon in exchange for his aid in seducing Jane."

"Oh," Rigsby replied. The conversation lapsed into a comfortable silence as they ate.


"So how is this going to work?" Cho prompted them. Rigsby and Van Pelt sat on the couch, one on each side of him, pressed against the arms of the couch. There was more than a foot between him and them, which was impressive considering how small Van Pelt's couch was.

"We're going to pretend that you are Jane," Van Pelt told him, a blush coloring her cheekbones. She pressed her hand to her forehead, hiding her eyes. "This is so much more awkward than I anticipated."

"Couldn't we just wing it?" Rigsby suggested, looking miserably at the coffee table. He shifted another inch away from Cho.

"We could, but winging it with Jane is guaranteed failure." Van Pelt sighed, spreading herself out so that she covered slightly more of the couch. Her leg touched Cho's for a second, and she jerked back, looking at him apologetically. "Cho, look, are you really okay with this? Us using you as a stand in?"

"Yes." Cho looked from one furiously blushing teammate to the other. He sighed. "Look, I'm going to be pretending that Rigsby is Jane, too, okay? And I may or may not pretend that Van Pelt is Lisbon."

Cho was serious. He'd done much, much worse undercover. Ever since Jane had joined the unit, undercover had gone from sitting in a dark corner of a bar and observing a suspect to a variety of horrifyingly embarrassing activities designed to flush out the real killer. Cho used to be able to blush. That ability had been taken away from him by a sexy blond devil.

"Okay." Rigsby got up and went to the kitchen. He returned with a pair of shot glasses and a full bottle of vodka still covered in freezer frost. "There is absolutely no way I can do this sober."

Van Pelt looked at him and then got up and grabbed another shot glass. "I gave up wine and meat," she explained, cracking open the china cupboard to grab a bottle of Crown Royal from behind her antique plates. "Not whiskey."

Cho sighed in relief. A buzz would make this so much easier.


Lisbon sat at home.


She eventually went to bed.

Also alone.

She was pretty okay with that.


"So then, like, Wayne puts his arm around him, right?" Grace chattered excitedly, pressed flush against Cho, her arms wrapped loosely around him. Her shot glass dangled precariously from her fingers, threatening to tip out over his shirt. Rigsby tried to put his arm around Cho to demonstrate, but wound up elbowing him in the forehead three times before he managed.

Cho swatted at Rigsby's hand.

"And Jane's all, like, what the fuck, right?" he replied, plastering a drunken what-the-fuck look on his face. Rigsby cracked up, his head dropping to Cho's shoulder.

"Oh man, Jane's going to go nuts," Rigsby wheezed into the thin cotton of Cho's undershirt. It had gotten way too hot earlier, so they had taken off a lot of their clothes.

Grace crawled over Cho's lap, reaching for the vodka. Her thin panties barely covered a glorious ass, Cho noticed, feeling a warm glow of appreciation for the female form. She poured herself another shot and swayed back into an upright position, the lace on her bra scraping against his arm. She smiled hazily. "And imma—I'm gonna do something like this," she said, straddling Cho's thigh and pressing her warm body against his. She very nearly kneed him and ruined the rather nice buzz he had going, but managed not to in the end. Cho was pleased.

Rigsby dropped a heavy arm over his waist, his thumbs clumsily seeking out the gap between Cho's undershirt and boxers. "Then I'm pretty sure I'm supposed to do something like this." He jerked Cho's undershirt up to about nipple height and stuck his hand out the neck of it, waving to himself.

"No way!" Grace protested, shifting delightfully. "Way more subtle," she insisted, scraping her nails over Cho's exposed skin in demonstration. "See?"

Cho mumbled an assent and arched into her nails a bit. He liked being scratched. It was kind of nice. "Jane's gonna freak out on you," he told her seriously, even though the image made him want to laugh. Jane would be losing his shit in this position, and Cho felt a fuzzy sort of pride that he hadn't lost his shit, because Jane totally would have.

"That's why I'm gonna sit on him," Grace said, sitting on Cho's lap and wobbling back an inch to look him in the eye. "Then I would molest him a bit."

"Oh?" Cho said, blinking vaguely at her. "How would you molest him?" He shifted so she could have multiple choices as to where to demonstrate (excluding his right side. Rigsby had that part covered).

"I'd touch him." Grace demonstrated, laying her palm flat against Cho's stomach, playing with his belly button. A tiny spark of interest bored through the alcohol haze to curl contentedly under her hand.

Rigsby wiggled so he was settled over Cho's other thigh. His head nestled against Cho's neck, humid breath on skin. Rigsby was huge, Cho realized, slightly overwhelmed.

Cho felt himself rising to the occasion, noticing mostly because Grace was watching the slowly shifting front of his boxers with interest. "And then Wayne would kiss Jane," she said, shifting to press the length of her body against Cho's side, wrapping her arms around him in an embrace that tangled with Rigsby's.

Rigsby lifted his head from the crook of Cho's neck and brushed his lips against Cho's cheek. From the corner of his eye, Cho could see Grace watching with avid interest. Rigsby touched his lips to Cho's in a dry, tentative kiss and Cho forgot about Grace. He opened his mouth encouragingly, flicking his tongue along Rigsby's lips. They tasted like vodka, and it was a measure of how much he'd had to drink that the vodka tasted good, sort of sweet. Of course, the fact that he was kissing Rigsby was also a good indication of Cho's reduced inhibitions.

"Oh my," Grace whispered against his neck. Her hand left Cho's stomach and returned after a moment with Rigsby's hand in tow. Together they pushed down the front of Cho's boxers, freeing him from cottony constraints. Grace's hand wrapped around the shaft of his cock and Rigsby's dipped down to cup his balls. They set a disjointed rhythm, but Cho was willing to forgive that.

Cho slumped against the back of the couch, pulling Rigsby with him, his breath quickening. The movement made the hard bulge in Rigsby's boxer brush against Cho's thigh, and he pushed his leg up just a bit, giving Rigsby a solid surface to rub against.

Rigsby hummed in surprised pleasure, the vibrations travelling from his chest to Cho's, reverberating comfortably in his bones. The kiss dissolved into a sloppy back and forth, each mapping the inside of the other's mouth. Rigsby's fingers pressed into the skin behind Cho's balls, a sharp knife of pleasure that made him writhe in their hands. Grace tightened her grip on his cock, softly muttered profanities purred into Cho's ear.

He remembered her existence, and freed a hand from the warm nest of bodies to touch her. Rigsby pushed up again and Cho was hard pressed to remember his own name (it was Cho). Luckily, gravity and helpless flailing conspired to land his hand on the rounded curve of Grace's hip. Silk and lace provided a lovely contrast to Grace's skin, and Cho wondered if she wore underwear like that to the office. The idea was thrilling, especially when he wondered the same about Lisbon, and if maybe she had some red lace lying around. Cho smiled around Rigsby's tongue.

Cho decided that Grace needed more attention. It was only fair, as he was getting more than enough, and Rigsby was happily engaging in frottage with Cho's leg. He fumbled with the strappy sides of Grace's panties, using them as a guide to find her soft, wet—oh wow. Wet.

Cho's hand explored, drawing a high pitched cry from her lips as everything down there seemed to spasm. Cho felt a warm glow of accomplishment and slipped a finger into her. The angle was awkward, and Cho was becoming progressively more distracted, but Grace really seemed to like it. She was sweet and eager, and Cho wondered if she would screw him.

Rigsby slid a finger into Cho. Sober, it would have been mildly painful. Drunk, it was awesome. Cho pulled back to keep from biting Rigsby. He was at the point of no return, and Rigsby seemed to realize that, hooking his finger so it pressed against something way too sensitive for his touch.

Cho was thankful for the fact that he was smashed, and the noise he made couldn't be held against him. He came, spurting out over Grace's hand, and striping the front of his undershirt. For a moment he imagined that it was Jane's hands on him, Jane's eyes cataloguing his every reaction for future reference.

"Holy fuck," Rigsby grunted, still rubbing himself against Cho's leg. Cho's eyes flew open, and he met Rigsby's gaze. Rigsby looked focused and hot. An aftershock raced through Cho, his cock twitching half-heartedly. He might, Cho admitted, be bisexual for Rigsby, too. Cho gave Grace a jealous glance, and she writhed into his hand, looking at Rigsby with a faintly dazed expression. Liquid dripped down Cho's wrist, and, not for the first time, Cho felt a spark of envy for female multiple orgasms.

"Okay, I don't think that was the plan," Grace giggled, her breath hitching as Cho put another finger in her. Her hand still gripped Cho, pumping him slowly. Rigsby hadn't removed his hand either, and the squirming uncomfortable don't touch that, it doesn't want to play anymore feeling was receding fast. Cho looked down, giving his cock a dubious look. It twitched, as if to say, One more time!

"Figured that Jane would freak out and leave, like, eons ago," Grace told Cho, letting go of him and licking her hand clean. It was honestly the hottest thing Cho's seen anyone do in ages, and then she offered the remainder to Rigsby. His cheeks were bright red from the heat as he watched Rigsby grip Grace's wrist, sucking her fingers into his mouth one by one.

Cho was getting hard again, but Grace and Rigsby were focused on each other. Rigsby had stopped grinding into Cho's thigh a while back, and instead had wrapped around Cho, his erection pressing insistently into Cho's hip. Grace continued riding Cho's hand, watching avidly as Rigsby cleaned the last of Cho's come from her hand.

Grace's fingers slipped from Rigsby's mouth with a wet pop, and he guided her hand down between Cho's legs. She shared a look with Rigsby and pressed her fingers in beside his. Cho stifled a gasp, shifting to give them better access.

His boxers were definitely in the way and Cho tried to shove them off with his free hand. Unfortunately, Rigsby was kneeling on them. Cho mumbled some kind of protest, spreading his legs wider and looked at them in an ill-defined plea.

Grace laughed and pulled back, taking Rigsby with her. Suddenly Cho was alone on the couch. He blinked at them, wondering what had just happened. Grace hooked an arm around Rigsby's neck and whispered something in his ear before darting—swaying speedily out of the room.

Rigsby dropped to his knees in front of Cho, hooking his hands over the twisted edges of his boxers. Rigsby pulled and Cho wiggled, because he really approved of the idea of naked right now. They got tangled, almost hopelessly so, but then Rigsby let go of one side and Cho lifted a leg and the imprisoning cloth was gone. They shared a proud look of accomplishment.

Cho struggled out of his undershirt, smearing cum into his hair as he did so. But, the good news was that he was naked and ready for whatever they had planned. Okay, he wasn't totally hard yet, but give him another minute and The Cho would be ready for action.

Rigsby fought his way to his feet, trying to push down his underwear at the same time. As he rose he tilted, falling slowly to the side. He tumbled to the ground, still struggling with his underwear.

Cho leaned over the edge of the couch, head swirling from the change in perspective. Rigsby looked delicious, so Cho crawled over the edge, nearly taking a header onto Rigsby's wide chest (which was exquisitely toned; he must spend many hours in the gym). Cho held himself above Rigsby and grinned stupidly before kissing him again. He's definitely bi for Rigsby.

Rigsby twisted under him, and he felt something brush his stomach. Cho glanced down, realizing that Rigsby had managed to remove his underwear. And, like, whoa. If Jane hadn't run before, he would have run at that. Rigsby was built. Really built. Cho glanced at the vodka bottle for comparison. Rigsby was smaller. Somewhat. A warm glow of pride filled Cho over his own bravery.

Cho heard Grace laughing behind them. He glanced over his shoulder, sending his equilibrium into a spin. His arms collapsed slowly, dropping him to Rigsby's chest where he sprawled contentedly, looking back at Grace. She still had her underwear on, and that seemed awfully unfair. Cho waved.

Grace smiled happily and waved back, revealing the condoms in her hand. She was holding two. Cho did some mental math, and realized that he was going to get to fuck Grace. He did some more mental math and realized that either Rigsby was going to fuck Grace too, or—

Rigsby grabbed Cho's ass.

—right. Cho had never done that before.

The alcohol in his blood stream bubbled giddily, assuring him that there was a first time for everything.

Grace knelt behind him, sitting on Rigsby's legs, and there was the sound of something being opened. Cho tried to look, but Rigsby's grip on him was actually a really awkward pin, and Cho had lost enough coordination that getting free would take a miracle. He could feel Rigsby's cock pressing against his belly and it was huge. Cho didn't feel nearly as brave now.

He cleared his throat. "Ah..." Rigsby caught his lips in another kiss, preventing him from talking. Slippery fingers slid down the crack of his ass, not trying to enter him quite yet. Cho twitched and kissed Rigsby back, distracting himself from his sudden nervousness.

Grace pushed a finger inside and Cho remembered why he had thought this was a good idea. A trickle of pre-come smeared over Rigsby's stomach and Cho pushed back into their hands. Rigsby's grip on him relaxed and one of his hands reached back to join Grace's. A moment or two passed and another finger joined the first. It was thicker, and Cho could feel the muscles in Rigsby's arm shift as it pressed into him.

Grace and Rigsby both added another finger, pushing in together, and Cho squirmed because that was a bit much. Their hands stilled for a moment, and Rigsby ran his hand up Cho's spine. He sighed and relaxed. Their fingers started sliding in and out with more enthusiasm than skill, but Cho liked it.

Grace pulled free, only the shallow penetration of Rigsby's fingers remaining. She urged Cho to his hands and knees. He heard a faint tearing noise, and Grace reached through his legs to grip Rigsby, rolling a condom over the length of his cock. A thrill of excitement twisted in Cho's belly.

"Come on." Grace tugged Cho so he was sitting up. She shoved the coffee table across the floor, giving them more room to maneuver.

Rigsby removed his fingers and rested his hands on Cho's hips. Grace held Rigsby's cock steady, the tip brushing at Cho's entrance. It was something of a surprise, but Cho was fairly certain that he had never been so hard before. He had freaking diamonds beat.

Grace held him to her chest with her free arm, her lace bra brushing against his back. She rested her chin on his shoulder and slowly added weight, encouraging him to sink down.

Cho did. Rigsby filled him slowly, sliding inextricably inwards. It was raw, intense. Something inside of Cho sparked with every movement and Cho felt a moment of pure jealousy for Jane.

He leaned forward, supporting himself by placing both hands on Rigsby's stomach. Grace followed with him, soft touches of cloth and skin against his back as Cho lowered himself onto Rigsby.

Cho pressed himself down onto Rigsby's cock to the point of near pain, and continued out of perverse curiosity. His progress was slow and hesitant, shifting away from spikes in the pain, allowing himself a moment to adjust, then pushing himself further. Eventually, seconds before he thought he would have to give up and pull away from the pain, skin touched skin, and Rigsby was fully seated inside Cho.

The strange haze that had convinced Cho to allow Rigsby far deeper than good sense demanded cleared and Cho heard the soft muttered words of encouragement Grace breathed into his ear. Rigsby panted under him, hands holding his hips hard enough to bruise.

Cho ached inside, strained by the uncomfortably deep penetration. He raised a hand to his belly and touched himself there, somehow convinced that he would be able to feel a bulge from the weight of Rigsby's cock.

"He's big, isn't he?" Grace purred. She bit his neck and sucked, leaving what was doubtless going to be an impressive hickey before pulling away. "I've got an Idea," she told them, patting Cho on the ass.

Cho noticed the emphasis on Idea. The sound of cloth on cloth came from the couch, and Rigsby sat up, his arms wrapping around Cho. He brought his knees up behind Cho, changing the angle and sending sparks of vivid sensation up his spine. A couch cushion was pressed behind Cho's buttocks and Rigsby slowly tipped him backwards so Cho was lying on the pillow.

Grace rolled a condom down Cho's cock, giving it a friendly stroke as she did so. She pulled the wet lace of her underwear to the side and slid onto Cho, pressing her back against Rigsby's chest. Cho was caught by the intensity of the moment, simultaneously filling Grace and being filled by Rigsby.

In tandem, Grace and Rigsby began to move. Rigsby's first thrust rattled Cho, sending bright lights flying behind his eyelids. Grace rode him, her movements matching Rigsby's closely enough that when Cho closed his eyes, he imagined they were a single person of strange anatomy. A swift pinch of his nipple brought his attention back to the matter at hand.

Cho brought his hands up to touch Grace, using his thumb to stroke her, hard. Her rhythm faltered, speeding up and slowing down as she braced herself on her hands and knees. Cho's legs were spread wide, each of Rigsby's thrusts opening him a little further, still slightly painful, but enough alcohol lubricating the way that it was strangely intriguing.

Thick chains of pleasure wrapped around his chest, reducing his breath to ragged gasps that struggled out of his throat, interspaced by softly pleading noises. If he weren't so drunk he'd be ashamed of the greedy little moans that were slipping from his lips. As it was, Cho was going to crush Rigsby next time they sparred in order to reassert his masculinity.

The angle of Rigsby's thrusts changed, drawing a sharp grunt from Cho. His thumb pressed into Grace and she twitched around his cock, diving down to capture Cho's lips in a harsh kiss, nipping his lower lip.

Cho responded enthusiastically, cupping her breast with his free hand, impatiently pulling her bra out of his way. Her nipple was tight and hard against Cho's hand, and he pinched, using his nails. Grace ground down on him, stilling for a moment as she shivered, wide-eyed and wild looking.

Rigsby's hand joined Cho's, and Grace arched back, shuddering and panting, her hips working in jerking circles as she rode it out.

Cho spread his legs further, hooking his foot on the couch and bracing the other against the floor, toes catching on the loops in the rug. Rigsby took the hint, and grabbed Cho by the hips, quickening the pace. The force of his thrusts shook Cho, driving him deeper into Grace. She gasped, driving herself onto his cock as she babbled a curious stream of words consisting mostly of, "Fuck yes!"

Cho writhed under her weight, an ocean of pleasure gathering, ratcheting inevitably upward with each spasm of Grace's body and every bone rattling thrust inside him, overwhelming Cho with sensation. He twisted as it engulfed him, a series of hot waves rushing over his skin, achingly deep. Cho tightened around Rigsby's cock, the sharp (weird) pleasure of having something inside of him doubling, tripling. He came, groaning something senseless, the noise pulled from the depths of his chest.

Grace trembled over him, her hair falling in a disheveled curtain around their faces. Rigsby was still hard, pressed balls deep inside of Cho, not moving but for the quivering motion that passed through all three of them like electricity through a circuit.

Grace smiled and kissed Cho before sliding down beside him. Rigsby muttered a question, too quiet for Cho to hear.

"What was that, Wayne?" Grace asked, turning languid eyes to him.

He blushed fiercely. "I said, can I fuck you?" he asked Cho.

Cho looked at Rigsby in bewilderment. Maybe it was just the whiskey, but—"I thought you were?" he replied cautiously, wondering if there was another facet to this that he had missed.

Rigsby shrugged awkwardly and pulled out. Cho nearly protested, but was flipped onto his stomach, ass in the air, before he could. Cho suppressed a snicker He was probably making a royal mess of the couch cushion.

Rigsby pushed back in, slowly. Once fully buried inside Cho, he paused for a second, and drew back out.

A sharp smack rang out, and Rigsby jumped, drawing a pleased hum from Cho at the sudden jolt. "Put some back into it!" Grace told Rigsby, laughing.

Rigsby paused, then leaned over Cho, his chest pressing into Cho's back. His hips slammed forward, driving his cock in to the hilt, burying him inside of Cho. He pulled back, and then did it again, setting a fast and hard rhythm that drove Cho's breath from his lungs.

Aftershocks flared inside Cho and he pushed himself back onto Rigsby's cock, because fucking hell he needed more. It hurt and felt amazing and Rigsby could keep doing it as long as he liked, because the likelihood of Cho complaining was—was—Cho's brain derailed in favor of cooing things like 'ooooooooooh' and 'more!'

"Do you have any idea how hot you look?" Grace stretched out beside them and touched herself, rolling her nipples between her fingers. "I can just imagine if Jane were here," she mused, her voice husky. "Maybe he'd be underneath you, Kim."

Cho shuddered at the thought, his eyes glazing over, phantoms of curly blond hair darkened by sweat rising from the fabric of the couch cushion.

"Or maybe he'd be inside of you." Grace ran her hand down Cho's side, fingers slipping across slick sweat. "Maybe he'd talk to you. Hypnotize you with his voice as he used you."

Cho was oddly shocked at the rush of arousal for that thought. He closed his eyes, and for a moment, Rigsby was Jane, and Jane was filling him, murmuring soft secrets into his ear.

"Maybe Wayne would be fucking Jane, and you'd lay here with me, watching as Jane slowly lost his composure, descending into nothing but need and want." She rolled onto her back, hair scattering messily over her chest as she watched Rigsby fuck Cho. "Maybe you'd be inside of me, and we'd give Jane a show. I'd like that." Her hand moved lazily between her legs.

Rigsby gasped against Cho's back and pulled him to his knees, wrapping his arms around Cho tightly. The sudden change in position made Cho's head spin, and he slumped against Rigsby chest, feeling the frantic beat of Rigsby's heart against his skin. Rigsby held him tight to his body, his cock sliding in and out in tiny, barely-there thrusts as he bit down on Cho's shoulder, indenting the skin around the hickey Grace had given him.

"You could suck Jane's cock, bring him off and have him writhing in front of you, because of you," Grace said, licking her fingers, pointy pink tongue delving in between them.

Cho had no idea who she was talking to, but the idea rushed through him, and he came even though he wasn't exactly hard. He gave himself an impressed look, because the last time he'd gotten off that many times over such a short period, he'd been on crack. And maybe heroin. He didn't really remember.

Rigsby slid out of him with a grunt and sat back. Cho lost his balance and fell across Rigsby's legs. He considered moving away, but realized that personal space was the least of his worries. Cho began to drift off, awakening briefly at Grace pulling the very used condom off of him. He blinked, honestly surprised that it hadn't fallen off earlier, and then fell asleep.


"We have a dead body?" Jane asked hopefully, deathly dull book resting on his chest, face down because he couldn't quite bear to look at it anymore. The film crew zoomed in on him.

"Yes." Lisbon replied tersely, giving him a warning look. She was on the phone, trying to reach Cho.

Jane rolled his eyes, fingers tapping a jittery song out into the hard cover of the book. "What kind of body?"

"The dead kind," Lisbon snarked, walking into her office. The reporter and the camera man followed her. She paused at the door, calling back to Jane, "Try to contact Rigsby and Van Pelt."

Jane dropped the book to the floor, then paused guiltily, it had saved him from talking to the reporter, and didn't really deserve that kind of treatment. He looked at it for a second, and put it up on the window shelf where no one would step on it. Satisfied, he wandered off in search of a phone, ready to ruin Rigsby and Van Pelt's morning after. A tiny thrill ran through him as he hoped that he'd catch them in the middle of something.


"I can't get it out of my hair," Cho told Grace, scrubbing another palm full of shampoo over his hair.

"I have no idea how it even got into my hair," she replied resentfully, glaring at Rigsby through the steamed glass. "It's tacky and clumping and—ugh." Grace cringed as her fingers caught on the dried semen stuck in her long hair. She scrubbed the stiff band of hair between her fingers, trying to soften it.

Rigsby cracked open the shower door. "Your phones are ringing." He was repulsively chipper, Grace decided, for a man who'd had drunk sex with his best friend the previous night. At the very least he should be hung over, she thought in irritation.

"Bring them here," she grumbled, the hot, humid shower doing little to resolve the raging head ache she'd woken up with. Not even the admittedly lovely sight of Cho washing himself clean of the evidence from last night's activities was helping. She grabbed a towel and dried her hand, standing with her back to the spray in hopes of dissolving the gummy residue.

She passed the towel to Cho as Rigsby handed her a buzzing phone. He gave Cho the second one, also buzzing. Grace flipped it open, and answered it. "Hello?"

"Van Pelt?" Jane's voice flowed out of the speaker, dulled by the sound of the shower.

"Yes?" She tipped her head back to wash out the shampoo.

"Lisbon's been trying to contact you. We have a dead body. And film crews." He paused. "Is that Cho?"

Grace glanced into the corner of the shower stall, where Cho was talking on his phone and scrubbing at the stubborn clump of stiffened hair on the side of his head. "No."

"Are you in the shower?" His voice revealed a trace of voyeuristic curiosity.

"Yes. I'll be there in half an hour." Grace snapped her phone shut, and handed it back to Rigsby.

"I'll be there in half an hour, boss," Cho repeated into his phone. Grace noticed, with more than a trace of amusement, that he liked calling Lisbon boss. A lot. Cho saw her gaze and shrugged. "Radio," he said. Cho waited a moment, then ended the call, handing the phone and the towel back to Grace.

Grace passed it to Rigsby, who was talking quietly into his own phone. "Yes—I mean no. I'm alone." He nodded absently, shaving while he listened. "Yeah. We played Parcheesi—well we played charades first." He paused. "Okay—goodbye." He snapped the phone closed and dropped it onto the counter.

"Jane?" Grace asked him, raising her voice to be heard through the glass door. Her headache was fading and the semen was flaking off. The day was looking up.

"Yeah. Wanted to know if we knew where Cho was."

Grace snorted and leered at Cho. "You told him you had no idea?" she called back as Cho rolled his eyes at her. He grabbed the shower gel and began to wash himself.

"I told him we all went out drinking and then went back to your place, where we played Parcheesi and charades."

Grace laughed. "I suppose it has the benefit of being partially true." Cho washed off, and left the shower. The hickeys on his neck were oddly tantalizing in the florescent light, and Grace regretted being called into the office. Another threesome would really hit the spot right now.


"Dead lady?" Jane pointed at the cordoned off crime scene, squinting a little. Lisbon nodded absently and Jane wandered off toward the shallow hole.

"You should stay behind the line," she told the reporter, and followed Jane. She could hear the faint hum of the camera lens zooming in. Van Pelt and Cho were questioning the officers on scene, leaving it up to her to baby-sit Jane. If only she could keep him on a leash.

Collar him in leather and chain him to her desk, far away from anything—or anyone—he could break.

Lisbon stroked his hair, rewarding him for sitting still, for obedience. Jane sighed and leaned against her leg, his hands cuffed securely behind his back, out of the way.

"Good Boy," she murmured, signing paperwork in blissful silence.

"And you cheated on your wife," Jane declared, sounding really damned pleased with himself. The officer—sheriff—he was talking to paused to process that, then lumbered forward. Lisbon was slower than she might have been, secretly hoping that Jane would get knocked on his ass. Then she remembered the film crew, and started trying to defuse the situation as Jane ran off and over the crime scene tape.

Tied up and gagged.


"You have to get the idea in her head somehow," Van Pelt argued, "and there will never be a better time than right now." She nodded toward Lisbon's office. "She can't make a scene, Cho."

Cho hesitated. "She won't say yes."

"If she did, you wouldn't want her."

Cho nodded slowly. "True." He stood up and walked purposefully toward Lisbon's office.

"Good luck," Van Pelt murmured, returning to her desk.

Cho closed the door to Lisbon's office behind him. She looked up, obviously still ticked about Jane's most recent lawsuit.

"What?" she snapped, her pen clutched violently between tense fingers. There would never be a worse time to ask this, Cho realized. Unfortunately, the clock was ticking down, and he was running out of opportunities.

"I want a sexual relationship," Cho said, fighting to keep from snapping to attention. "With you," he added.

Lisbon's eye twitched. "Did Jane put you up to this?" she snarled, rising to her feet. She crossed the length of the office in a few quick strides, and jerked the blinds down.

"No," Cho responded mildly, watching her. She was pretty when she was angry. Like a violent fairy.

"Then what—you can't be serious." Lisbon backed up warily, putting enough room between them that she could kick Cho in the knee. His bad knee, Cho realized uneasily.

"I am serious."

"I can't—you can't—you're my subordinate, and it's against office policy." Lisbon settled into her official persona, voice dropping into her authoritative tone. Cho shivered happily.

"You like that."

"Well, I…" she trailed off, looking at him in confusion. "Seriously, did Jane put you up to this?"

"I'm here because I find you attractive, and I was hoping you would be agreeable to my proposition of a sexual relationship."

"I—no." Lisbon shook her head, looking baffled and a little shocked.

"Understood. Would you like to go out for dinner?"

"I don't think that would be a good idea."

Cho paused and wondered if he should have led with an offer of dinner. "Brunch?"

"Cho, I think you should go now."

He shrugged and left.


"So, hey, an environmentalist?" Rigsby asked, fidgeting with his pen. He looked up at Grace through lowered lashes, blinking a little nervously. Cho had smelled like her soap, and that was actually a little awkward now that Cho wasn't naked—

And sexy. Surprisingly so. He must do a lot of core exercises and cardio, because there wasn't an ounce of body fat on him and his abs were damn fine. Yep. Cho was all lean, lickable edges, and grooves in between bulging muscles. Tawny skin—

Rigsby paled. Had he just referred to Cho's skin as tawny? He watched Cho through the glass windows of Lisbon's office, losing track of his conversation with Grace.

-Oh yes, tawny skin, smooth and silky, looking perfect next to Grace's milky white limbs, as they tangled artistically on a bearskin rug, bared flesh glowing with the faintest gleam of sweat. Cho would touch her, and she would make that adorable little squeaky sigh that she made when she was pleased. They'd know he was watching, and…

"Yeah. It was actually kind of weird," Grace mused, a sly smirk crossing her lips as she followed his gaze to Cho. "The group claimed responsibility, but Jane doesn't think they did it."

"Well who does he think did it?" Rigsby murmured quietly.

"You know he won't say."

Not without suitable incentive. Sexy incentive. Yeah.

The siren wail of saxophones rose from the depths of Rigsby's imagination.


Jane was chained to the wall, looking wonderfully debauched, his vest unbuttoned and hanging loosely over his rumpled shirt, his jacket pulled up around his wrists like a second pair of manacles. Rigsby walked toward him, meeting the defiant expression on Jane's face with a cool and collected one of his own.

"You are employed here for one reason, and one reason only," Lisbon's voice echoed from behind him, calm, detached, mildly interested. "Do I need to remind you of the consequences of not cooperating again?"

"At least once more," Jane replied, licking his lips. His eyes raked over Rigsby, the unholy glee in them laying Rigsby bare.

"As you wish," Lisbon muttered. Her shoes clicked on the flagstone floor, and she stopped right behind Rigsby. A small hand rested on his arm for a second. "You bring this on yourself," she said clearly, her voice echoing through the dungeon. She sounded delighted by that fact, Rigsby noticed, watching Jane's face soften with amusement.

"Yes. I'm a bad man," Jane replied. He laughed quietly, meeting Rigsby's eyes. Rigsby shuddered, eye contact with was Jane as intimate as sex with Grace. "Aren't I, Rigsby? I'm just horrible," he cooed, voice dwindling to a purr. "You've got me tied down. Helpless." Jane grinned cheerfully. "At your mercy, at your pleasure."

A surge of desire poured through Rigsby's belly at Jane's words, his mouth suddenly drier than the Sahara.

"Anyway, I was thinking, that as successful as getting Cho drunk was—" Grace was cut off.

"You got Cho drunk?" Jane asked, appearing behind her like a mortifying specter of embarrassment. "Oh! Was it last night?" he asked them. He paused, thinking. "I thought you all had dates last night?"

Rigsby tried hard to keep from hyperventilating. Jane knew. He would blackmail them again, but maybe there would be tea and a bead of honey on Jane's hand that he'd have to lick off. And then—the oral sex. Rigsby choked at the image—

Jane ordered him up against the wall, devil's grin firmly in place. Rigsby's pants were shoved down around his knees, exposing him to anyone who might come into the break room. He glanced up anxiously, watching the door.

Jane sighed and pinched the thin skin on Rigsby's inner thigh to get his attention. He held up the plastic beehive, waggling it. "Pour some sugar on you?"

The film crew zoomed in on their conversation, the soft whir of the camera lens audible. Jane stiffened, suddenly looking irritable. Rigsby quietly freaked out some more, because now their threesome tendencies would be exposed on TV (Pervert CBI Agents, more at eleven!), and he was pretty sure that his mother was going to watch it and Rigsby hadn't even told her about Grace yet. And he was sort of hoping to avoid telling her that he'd had a drunken one night stand with his co-workers, plural.

"No, I made pie for dessert." Grace corrected Jane, signaling Rigsby to calm down. He took a steadying breath. "Dates are rather old fashioned as a dessert," she confided earnestly.

"What kind of pie?" Jane asked. He looked at Rigsby with slight suspicion. "Why were you—?"

"Apple." Grace answered. "It's Cho's favorite."

"Hmm." Jane tilted his head like an oversized bird sizing up its prey. "I like apple pie." He made eye contact with Grace, and Rigsby wasn't sure what passed between them, but Jane smiled and wandered over toward his couch, humming quietly.

The blinds in Lisbon's office twitched shut, swaying back and forth. The movement drew their attention, and Jane edged back toward Rigsby's desk to get a better view. Grace clutched Rigsby's arm, watching the window.

The door opened and Cho walked out. He shrugged in response to Rigsby's inquiring glance, and Grace's raised eyebrow.


Lisbon stared at her office door. Did that really just happen?

She straightened the paperwork so it sat at right angles to the desk, doing her absolute best not to think about it. Not thinking about it at all.

Cho lay back on her desk, giving in to her demands, obeying the orders she gave with her hands. Lisbon giggled, muffling the sound by yanking his shirt open, sending buttons flying. She ran her hands over his bared chest, twisting his nipples hard.

Cho moaned for her, and she smiled. He was hers, all hers.

Yes. Not thinking about it.


They were alone at last, workday done, film crew gone, co-workers left. Alone in the office, together.

"So, what were you doing with Rigsby and Van Pelt last night?" Jane asked out of the blue, peering over the edge of his book.

"We had a couple of drinks and then I fell asleep on Van Pelt's couch." Cho continued working on his paper work, unfazed by random questioning.

"Rigsby said night out drinking and Parcheesi, Van Pelt said apple pie and dinner, you say drinks and sleeping on couch…" Jane paused for effect. "Someone is lying."

"Yes," Cho confirmed.

Jane pouted, and Cho smirked. "Well, who?" he inquired insistently.

"All of us," Cho replied, as if the answer were obvious.

Jane shifted restlessly on the couch. "Details?" It came out as a whine.

Cho smiled. Jane's curiosity had been aroused. Go team Cho! "The pie was fantastic." He dumped the remainder of the files into his bottom drawer and got up to leave. "Good night."


"Wayne, I think we should ask Jane out."

"Like, on a date?"

"Yes," Grace leaned back into the couch pillows, her feet resting in Rigsby's lap. He was painting her toe nails a lovely shade of red. It tickled, but he got twitchy if she moved her toes, so Grace restrained herself.

"A date where we seduce him?" Rigsby asked, his concentration clearly on her toes, his brow creased.

"No, a date where we take him out for dinner, or maybe brunch." Grace filed the sharp edges off her nails, smoothing the snags left by the nail clippers. "Maybe go to a movie."

"Huh," Rigsby grunted, and used paper towel to wipe up a tiny dot of misplaced nail polish on her toe. "So the 'blackmail him to keep him from blackmailing us' plan is off the table, and the 'he looks so lonely' plan is on?" he said the plan names in falsetto, grinning at her while he wiped excess polish off the brush.

Grace snorted and whacked him with a pillow. "Ass. The blackmail plan is on, the lonely plan is on, and so is the get him drunk and vulnerable plan." Grace filed her nails a bit more. "Actually, maybe not the last one. It sounds a bit too much like date rape. Instead, we could go to the park and have a picnic. He could hypnotize the children."

"And the sex?" Rigsby inquired, raising his eyebrows.

"Not when the children are watching." Grace grinned, letting loose a maniacal laugh. "But then, when he least expects it, we shall pounce, leaping like lions on a wounded gazelle!"

"Surprise, sex!" Rigsby said, smiling back as Grace dissolved into giggles. Her foot twitched and he gripped her ankle to keep it still.

"Yeah, no." She leaned into the couch pillow (freshly cleaned, and slightly damp, but significantly less crunchy than it had been that morning). "It should take him a while to figure out that we're coming on to him—"

"—but this is Jane."

Grace nodded. "And I told Cho to plant suspicions so that he'll become interested in us. He probably won't say anything, but if he does, we make like Bill Clinton and deny, deny, deny."

"Really? Cho? And you want to lie about our intentions?" Rigsby said, obviously not pleased with the dishonesty.

"Yes, Cho. Coming from Cho, it should distract his focus enough that he doesn't realize we're hunting him until we're ready to make our move." Grace felt a little thrill from her plotting, and sighed happily.

"But what about when we actually try to get him in bed?"

"We tell him that we had been lying. Hopefully we will all be plastered, so it'll be less like date rape, and more like drunken sex with co-workers." She beamed at Rigsby. "Which is perfectly acceptable, as Cho can now attest."

Rigsby blushed adorably, and let go of her ankle. "I'm done here, until they dry enough to do a second coat."

Grace nodded and twisted to prop her feet up on the coffee table. She patted her lap. "Your turn!"

"Do you have to? The guys at the gym…"

"Tell them it drives your girlfriend wild." Grace winked. "I'll even make it be blue," she said, grabbing a bottle of sparkly turquoise nail polish from the coffee table. "Blue's masculine, right?"

Rigsby sighed and leaned back, lifting his feet onto her legs, putting his toes into her capable hands. "So are we adding him to our relationship?" he asked, not hiding his nervousness well enough to fool Grace.

"It really depends on him," she mused out loud. "I mean, obviously, I think he's adorable when I don't think he's evil, and you think he's sexy even when you think he's evil—"


Grace raised her eyebrow.

Rigsby fidgeted uncomfortably. "Well, yeah, but—"

"I do too," she reassured him. "I get really freaking ticked off at him, but Jane makes evil look fun and sexy, like the dark side in a yellow polka dot bikini."


"Never mind. Anyway, my point is, Jane is way too annoying for me to want him without you to back me up." She smirked. "With you there, we can use flanking maneuvers."

Rigsby still looked unconvinced.

Grace sighed and looked away. "I—uh—I sort of, maybe, kind of, sort of… loveyou. I guess." She wiggled uncomfortably and focused on Rigsby's toes. He had really nice toes, and the turquoise went well with his skin tone. "But I find Jane crazy sexy when he's being smart. And I just… I want him, you know?" She hazarded a look up.

Rigsby looked like she had just given him a million dollars and a kitten. Grace blushed and shook her head so her hair hid her face. He cleared his throat. "I—uh—love you too, and I have to admit that Jane is fine. Good. I mean, yeah. I want him." He was cherry colored too, which pleased Grace.

"Okay, so we both want him. And once we get him, I sort of want to keep him. Because I don't know that a one night stand with Jane would actually fix anything."

"Wouldn't fix me wanting him," Rigsby said.

"Or me. But most especially, it wouldn't make him feel any less lonely."


They both went quiet, but the uncomfortable silence slowly morphed into a comfortable one, so it was alright. Grace painted Rigsby's toenails a nice blue.


Lisbon thought hard about killing Jane. She had the gravesite planned, a good dozen different weapons hidden under her bed, and her acceptance speech ready for the Oscar she would win for pretending to grieve.

She never should have let him find out where she lived.

"—they're up to something," he muttered excitedly, the thrill of a mystery clear in his voice. "I don't know what yet, but all three are lying to me about what they did last night." He paced across her kitchen floor as he waited for the water he'd put on to boil.

"For crying out loud, Jane, why does it matter?" Lisbon growled, dearly wanting to hit him, just a little bit. Just enough to take the edge off.

"Because they've got a secret," Jane said, like it should have been obvious. He pawed through her cupboards, looking for tea.

"It's in the cupboard over the sink," Lisbon told him sharply, as he came a little too close to her collection of novelty salt shakers. "And Jane, people have secrets. They all do."

"Not from me, they don't."

Lisbon gripped the edge of the counter hard enough that her knuckles turned white and smiled, showing all of her teeth. "Jane, you need to learn how to let go. Knowing what they did last night is not important. At all. Do you understand?"

At least, it's not important unless it explains what the hell Cho was thinking when he…

Lisbon accepted the mug of tea Jane handed her, frowning contemplatively.

"It is important, because I want to know," Jane explained, taking the milk out of her fridge and pouring it into his cup.

"…You do have a point," Lisbon acknowledged thoughtfully, thinking about Cho.

"I do?" Jane looked up, startled. He put the milk back. "Of course I do." He looked at her warily.

"Oddly enough," Lisbon added.

Jane ignored that. "So you'll help me?"

"Do what?" Lisbon asked suspiciously.

"Bug their phones and homes."

"Illegal," Lisbon retorted, though secretly considering it.

"Okay," Jane said, giving in way too fast. "How about a stake out?"

"Jane. No. I have to do stake outs for work. I'm not doing one to find out what my employees did last night. Besides, they did it last night. The stake out would be belated."

"You could make this easier, you know."

"So could you."

They grinned at each other across steaming mugs of tea, both comfortable (and, truth be told, delighting) in their obstinacy.

"Do you have a better plan?" Jane asked, managing to sip his tea without his grin diminishing at all. Not even slurping, Lisbon noticed in admiration.

"Wait for an opportunity, catch one alone, and force them to talk?" Lisbon thought for a moment. "Not Cho. If we try to get him to talk, it won't work." She suppressed the blush that threatened to rise.

"Oh." Jane considered that for a moment. "That's very… unsubtle."

"What do you suggest?"

"Hypnotize Rigsby. He's a soft touch, it'll take me ten seconds, tops," Jane replied enthusiastically, waving his hand to illustrate.

"You don't get to hypnotize my team," Lisbon snapped. "Unless I say you can," she added, knowing a situation might come up in the future where that would, in fact, be necessary.

Jane pouted. "I don't see you being a font of wisdom here."

"I made a suggestion. You shot it down."

"Because it wouldn't work."

"It would too. Van Pelt would fold like a wet paper bag," Lisbon sipped the hot tea, sniffing derisively.

"She would not." Jane frowned. "She's stronger than that. And so is Rigsby."

"Got a crush?" Lisbon snarked, feeling rather put out because Jane was right. They'd just lie some more, and know that they were on to them.

"Huh? No. Of course not." Jane twisted his wedding ring meaningfully, giving her his patented sad look.

Lisbon rolled her eyes. "Of course not," she mocked. "What is it about them? You barely even looked at Rigsby until Van Pelt showed up, and then suddenly you're practically stalking both of them."

"Grace is special," Jane muttered, scowling. "And they're cute together."

"God, you're such a voyeur. And you know the department regulations. I don't want to hear about it."

"Shoving your head in the sand?"

"Damn straight. Though if Rigsby calls Van Pelt 'Grace' in front of me again, I'm going make you do something horribly embarrassing to him…you know… again."


"You're the bad guy, didn't you know?" Lisbon said, feeling rather wicked.

"If only they knew…" Jane had a gleeful glint in his eye. "But really, we needto figure this out. We can't let them have secrets, they'll get ideas."

"What if we just keep an eye on them and eavesdrop as best we can?"

"If you want to be completely pedestrian about it." Jane sighed. "But it would work, and be less work than anything but hypnotizing Rigsby." He sipped his tea thoughtfully.


"You don't even know what I'm going to say!"

"I know I'm going to say no."

"You, my dear, are absolutely no fun at all. None. You are anti-fun."

"Who let you use Rigsby last week?" she snapped back. Lisbon hesitated, and then added, "To solve the case."

Jane didn't meet her eyes for a moment, and she felt a sneaking, horrible suspicion.

Jane should be mocking—

"You did." Jane said abruptly, smiling. "And have I thanked you for your generosity?" He left the slightest pause between 'your' and 'generosity,' and Lisbon glared at him.

"No, actually, you haven't." Lisbon forced herself to stay calm. As much as Jane tended to abuse the my wife is deeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaaaaaad thing to get out of awkward, sexually charged situations, most of which he created, Jane really wouldn't sleep with anyone. So her suspicions were stupid, and she should bury them in the sand with her head.

"Well, thank you." He drank from his tea rather than tease her.

Lisbon paled. It was worse than she'd thought. "We're agreed then? Opportunistic stalking?" she said, trying to distract herself as she feverishly buried her suspicions.

"I suppose." Jane finished his tea and stared into the empty cup, a trifle mournfully.


Cho went running.

Then he watched Iron Chef.



"No, I have some," Lisbon lied, giving Cho an uncomfortable look. "I mean, I had some. I already drank it. Before you got here."

"Oh." Cho shrugged and left, closing her door behind him. Lisbon breathed a sigh of relief, even if she was a bit disappointed.

"Hmmmm?" Jane inquired, looking over the edge of his tea cup at her.

Lisbon blushed, and looked away. "He… ah. It's nothing."

"It's something pertinent. I can tell," Jane leaned forward, a wolf scenting blood. "You've been holding back!"

Lisbon stared at him, certain that he shouldn't sound so happy about that. "I have not," she denied weakly, slumping into the leathery embrace of her chair. She frowned at the camera man zooming in through the blinds.

"Have too."

"Have not."

"Have too."

"I have not. Stop calling me a liar."

"I'll stop calling you a liar when you stop lying. Liar," Jane said it like it was perfectly reasonable.

Lisbon wished the camera wasn't watching them so she could throttle him. It would be justifiable. No prosecutor who had ever worked with Jane would even try to put her in prison. It would be a cushy house arrest for her! "It's not important." Lisbon glanced at the cameras.

Jane followed her gaze, and grimaced. "You know I'll stalk you until you tell me once those yahoos are gone, right?"

"Yeah—yahoos?" Lisbon struggled against the sensation that there were three different conversations going on, two of which only Jane was participating in.

"Them." Jane nodded at the camera.

"Oh. Right."

"Anyway, I'm going to go have lunch with that reporter."

"I thought you hated him?"

"Well, yes. He's indisputably an asshole."

"Then why…?"

Jane walked out without answering her question, leaving Lisbon standing around like Commissioner Gordon. Again.


Lisbon racked her brain to remember what the reporter's name was. John? Andy? He wouldn't calm the hell down, and she was about ready to smack him, except that the cameraman had started filming again, and police brutality on camera was wrong. Because…it was wrong. "Look, can you remember the license plate?"

"No—it all happened—"

"Okay, can you remember what the suspect looked like?"

"He was wearing a mask. I couldn't—"

"Right. Coloring? Height? Did he say anything?"

"I can't remember—"

"Hey boss!" Rigsby called her from the office entrance.

Lisbon got up and walked away from the reporter. "Yeah?"

"We've got a lead. There's this place up in the middle of nowhere, and that guy we pulled in swears that Jane would have been taken there." Rigsby smoothed down his shirtsleeves, giving the camera an unfriendly look.

"Great, let's go." Lisbon walked away from the reporter, hoping that he wouldn't follow. Unfortunately, he did, but at a greater distance than usual.

When she got into the SUV, she sat next to Cho, giving him a thin lipped glare, because no one but no one intimidated her with weird sexual propositions. Cho flushed the slightest, smallest bit, shifting in his seat. Lisbon looked away, ignoring him. Van Pelt and Rigsby were sitting too close to each other in the backseat, and she made a mental note to give them to Jane to play with, once she got him back.

That thought firmly in mind, Lisbon got on the phone with and was ruder to them than strictly necessary, for Jane's sake.


Grace wiggled in her seat, trying hard to be solemn and worried about Jane, but mostly just imagining him tied up and artfully bruised. Rigsby glanced over at her, looking concerned, and the fantasy changed to Jane and Rigsby tied up, back to back, waiting for her to rescue them. Grace's nostrils flared and she tugged at the collar of her Kevlar.

Jane looked wounded, deliciously so. His arms were drawn up over his head, tied with rough rope that reddened the skin of his wrists. He was poetically pale in the dim light, threatened by a quartet of indistinct male forms. He saw her creeping in behind his captors, and immediately began to distract them by questioning the purity of their love for their mothers.

Grace lifted the gleaming machete she had brought, and moved forward to engage—

"—Van Pelt will act as the liaison between the local law enforcement and the CBI." Lisbon strode off toward the ramshackle wooden hut, Rigsby and Cho flanking her.

Grace sighed, and looked over at the shit suckers that passed for law enforcement in this pitiful excuse of a county. Oh, how adorable. The sheriff had a little star on his front pocket, like in the movies. Grace let the wrath fill her, knowing that she would need it for what was coming.

"Do they need back up?" one eager-beaver asked, touching his weapon, probably the only thing he'd ever bother to finger in his sorry little life.

"No." Grace smiled, baring her teeth "Okay, we're going to need you guys to spread out in a nice big circle around the building. Stay within sight of each other, and once you reach your post, do not move unless you are chasing a suspect. If the subjects flee it's up to you to catch them. Don't attempt to shoot them, there's going to be at least three, hopefully four of our people in there. If you shoot our people, I will shoot you."

The worthless little fucktards laughed uneasily, pretending that she was joking. Grace was okay with that. Jokes about shooting local law enforcement were okay, threats were not, and led to disciplinary reviews where Grace had to sit across from Lisbon and they both pretended that giving death threats to moronic failures was wrong.

She glared at them, letting her eyelid twitch threateningly. "Circle. Now."

They scattered, too loudly, and Grace growled. "Quietly."

They left in over-exaggerated stealth, and Grace smiled. It was just like controlling those little bastards in Sunday school. Sure, her unit had been taken away from her once Father Adam had found out about—well, that hardly mattered anymore. The important thing was that Grace knew how to keep a fucker in line.

She frowned. Lisbon was signaling that they were going in. Grace advanced, ready to enter after the all clear signal was given. If Jane was tied up, there was no way in hell that Lisbon was going to let him go right away.

Jane tried to talk around the gag in his mouth, but Grace stopped him, a finger laid across his lips telling him to hush. He quieted, a wary look on his bruised face.

Grace knelt over him, ignoring the people in the background. A flurry of voices rose behind her when she leaned down and licked his cheek. Grace waved her hand at them, and they grew quiet too, as they formed a semi-circle around her.

"Do you want free Jane?" she purred, scratching a nail down his exposed neck. "Tell me to let you go."

Jane tried to talk through the gag, but it came out as a helpless whine. Grace smiled.

"What's she doing?" someone asked from behind her, one of the locals. Grace ignored the muttered conversations, and the gathering crowd.

Jane looked behind Grace, eyes wide, desperate. She glanced back, meeting Lisbon's amused eyes. Grace shrugged, and settled over Jane, straddling his body and stroking a finger down his face. "Lisbon likes it when you're quiet."

Jane looked wounded, and Grace rolled her eyes. "Oh, come on, like you didn't know."

Jane conveyed upset innocence with his eyebrows.

Grace smirked. "I could molest you, right now, and she'd take pictures."

Jane gave her a skeptical look.

"It's my fantasy, Mister, and people will take pictures of my triumphs if I damn well feel like it."

Grace sighed as Lisbon charged in, yelling. Hopefully Jane would be more tractable in real life. Grace thought about it, then snorted and shook her head at her silliness, ignoring the curious look that the sheriff with a shiny star gave her.


Lisbon looked at Jane. He was tied up. If he were gagged, she'd consider this a real win.

"Are you going to let me go?" he asked for the third time.

Lisbon considered it, knowing that she really should, but finding his immobility something of a blessing. He wasn't getting into anything! It was like a miracle, provided in a delightfully tousled package. "Um. Forensics," she said, hoping he'd buy it.

"You have the guys who kidnapped me," Jane said impatiently. He nodded at the men having their arms pulled painfully behind their backs in the corner. "They're right there."

Lisbon frowned.

"In the corner," he added helpfully.

Lisbon sighed. "There might be a bomb?"

"Lisbon," he whined. "Come on. I've been stuck like this for the last six hours!"

"They only took you three hours ago," Lisbon replied, contemplating how peaceful those three hours had been. If she hadn't been worried out of her mind, it would have been downright enjoyable.

"Huh." Jane rocked the chair, making the legs squeak. "You worked faster than I thought you would."

"Shockingly, we are competent law enforcement officers," Lisbon shrugged. "I know, I'm surprised too." She turned and walked away. Jane couldn't follow her!

"Lisbon! ...Teresa?"

"Just going...to get...uh."

"A camera?" Van Pelt suggested from her position by the door.

"Yes!" Lisbon seized on the excuse. "Wait, no," she corrected herself, talking over Rigsby's laughter. "Actually, maybe." She corrected herself as she walked out the door.

"Lisbon!" Jane called plaintively, "Come back!"

It wasn't until her face started to cramp that Lisbon realized she'd been wearing evil grin #3 for way too long.


The camera crew drove back in their own vehicle. Grace, Jane, Lisbon, and Cho were left to drive back alone. The conversation twined its way through baseball, hive minds in termites, the best method for opening a stubborn jar, and wound up on mind reading. Again. Jane loved that trick.

"I've established a mental connection with you and I know what you're thinking," Jane said, giving Grace a piercing look.

Grace kept her expression blank. I'm thinking that I want to see Wayne pin you to the ground and fuck you until you scream.

Jane didn't react, busy peering into her eyes.

Afterward, we'd let Cho slide into you while you were still wet from Wayne. He'd pull you to your knees, and I'd force your head between my thighs. Give that clever tongue of yours something to do.

"And?" she asked, eyes wide with well faked anticipation. She'd been playing this trick since the first time Jane had pretended that he could read her mind. Either he had ice for blood, or he really, truly wasn't psychic. Didn't make it any less fun, though.

You'd be aching and wet, desperate to come, but I wouldn't let you.

"You're thinking how glad you are that I can't really read your thoughts," Jane proclaimed with the air of a magician pulling a bunny out of a hat.

"Oh my, you are correct," Grace replied blandly.

I want you so badly I could just strip you naked right here, right now, and ride you like a pony. Everyone could watch. I don't care, Wayne would enjoy the show, Cho might join in, and Lisbon—Grace's mind stalled for a second before picking up again—well, she'd probably want a turn after me.

Jane hesitated, obviously disappointed by her lack of a reaction, before leaning into his seat. He glanced back.

Grace ignored him, concentrating on the scenery.

Dear God in heaven, I want to watch you be used and abused. While you love every second of it.


"You'll be fine," Jane insisted as he pried the vent cover off. It was very small inside. And dark.

"It's really small," Lisbon pointed out. She took a discrete step backward, toward her desk. There was paperwork she needed to do. Soon.

"That's why you need to do it. I'm too big," Jane replied, rolling his eyes like it was an obvious conclusion. He grabbed her chair and shoved it under the vent. "Upsy daisies!"

Lisbon sighed and got on the chair.


"So, have you invited him to dinner?" Cho asked Grace. Rigsby left his desk and joined them at the kitchenette.

"No, not yet," Grace replied. She sighed and added another sugar cube to her tea. "I don't know. It felt like a bad time. What about you? How did it go with Lisbon?"

"I asked her out. She asked me to leave," Cho said. He looked a trifle disappointed.

The air conditioning rattled to life, sending a cool breeze down on them. "Well, it's not like you could expect her to tackle you and take you on the office floor," Rigsby shrugged, leaning against the counter and sipping his tea.

All three of them took a moment to think about that. "If she did, you'd tell us, right?" Grace asked. The ceiling creaked loudly, then clanged as metal shifted and popped. Probably as a result of the change in temperature.

"Would you tell me if you managed to get Jane in your bed...?" Cho trailed off, glancing at the ceiling. He could have sworn that he heard something. A hollow thud resounded through the kitchenette, and someone cursed quietly in the distance. Cho frowned, then decided it must be a maintenance crew.

"Probably," Grace admitted. "I mean, we wouldn't videotape it without his permission, but if you happened to hide in the closet... Of course, we'd like to see you and Lisbon in return." The building settled loudly, the air vents creaking.

"We would?" Rigsby asked, stirring creamer into his tea. "I mean, I'm not opposed to watching at a later date, but it seems like the first time might be better..." He paused, his discomfort obvious, "Private," he concluded.

"I wasn't offering our first time or asking for theirs," Grace clarified, patting Rigsby's arm. "Although I'd love to see Lisbon let loose on Cho—" The ceiling squealed, startling all three.

"Oh, there you are!" Jane said cheerfully, waving from the doorway. "I need help moving boxes! ...From all three of you. There are a lot of boxes."

Grace looked away from the slowly sagging air vent. "I think there's an animal in the vents," she told Jane. "We should try to scare it out first." She grabbed the broom from the closet and studied the metal duct work.

Jane stared at her, a strange expression crossing his face before he nodded. "Yes. It would be cruel to leave it in there. Lisbon's office is the closest exit. You should try to send it that way."

The vent barked.

Jane sneezed, his entire body shaking from the effort of suppressing it.

"It's a dog?" Cho asked doubtfully. "Why would anyone put a dog in an air vent?"

"That's so cruel!" Rigsby said, frowning at the vent. "I bet it's just a puppy." The vent sunk down another inch. "A very heavy puppy," he amended.

The puppy barked again, indigently.

"Rigsby, go wait in Lisbon's office and get the cover off of the vent," Grace ordered. "I'll try to encourage it to go in that direction."

"I'll do that," Jane volunteered. "Rigsby should stay in case the vent collapses." He hurried toward Lisbon's office.

Cho stared at the metal duct suspiciously. "How did it even get in there?" He sipped his tea as he pondered the question.

"Ready," Jane's voice echoed through the vent.

Grace whacked the air duct with the broom. It clanged like a particularly brassy bell, and the puppy squeaked, the duct work shuddering under its paws as it backed up.

"I can see it!" Jane yelled. "I think its a little Rottweiler! Aw... What a cute little puppy!"

Grace hit the air vent again. The air ducts reverberated, drawing the attention of an intern walking by. Once she recognized the major crimes unit, she turned around and left.

"Oh! It's out. Hello puppy!" Jane cooed. "Wait! Hey, come back here!"

The dog barked.


"Where did the dog go?" Grace asked Rigsby, stirring her tea.

"Jane said it escaped out the fire door. I just don't know why he opened the door." Rigsby reported.

"Weird," Grace shrugged. "Do you think they're arguing?" She nodded toward Lisbon's office. The blinds were pulled tight, and the muffled sound of their voices was audible through the door.

"I hate it when mom and dad fight."

Grace pondered the various permutations of that for a few moments. "That's kind of sick."

"I know."

"And Jane's the mom."


Jane's silhouette pulled away from the window, heading deeper into Lisbon's office.

Where she forced him to his knees and... Jane complained a lot, Lisbon got frustrated, and left. Jane pouted.

Grace sighed. Lisbon was difficult to fantasize about.


"You want to tell me." Jane smiled charmingly and rolled a pen back and forth across his fingers.

Lisbon shook her head. "Not gonna tell." The pen kept catching her eye, the slow back and forth, back and forth...

"What were they talking about?" Jane asked her.

Lisbon grabbed the pen and stuck it in her desk drawer. "You know, stuff." She cackled, then stopped.

Jane twiddled his thumbs for a second. "I think you're not telling me something."

"Oh, I can't remember what they were talking about," Lisbon said. She rose to her feet and headed toward the door. "Maybe something about dinner?"

"Hey wait, I'm not done with you yet," Jane replied, following her. "You've got a secret, and a choice. I can annoy it out of you, or you can—"

"Cho!" Lisbon waved him over. "I need to speak to you about the Forbore's case. Let's do it over coffee."

Cho paused, looking her over. Lisbon smiled. His face expressed inquiry without actually changing in any way. Lisbon tilted her head.

"Great, I can come along," Jane added. He tugged his shirt sleeves down. "We can talk about things like the Forbore case."

Cho's eyes narrowed.

Lisbon gritted her teeth and imagined Jane with a ball gag.

He whines behind the gag, looking at her with the faintest touch of fear.

Lisbon smiles without a trace of humor and taps Jane's knee with the ruler, encouraging him to straighten out his leg.

Jane refuses, and she snaps the wood against his skin.

He straightens his leg.

"In that case, let's invite Risby and Van Pelt, too," Lisbon said.

Cho blinked.

Lisbon smirked.

Jane crooked an eyebrow in challenge. "You really think you can hide anything from me?"

A look of faint alarm crossed Cho's face. His eyes flicked toward Lisbon, then back to Jane. "I'll tell Van Pelt and Rigsby."

"You do that, Cho."

He obeyed.

Lisbon chuckled.

"Lisbon?" Jane sounded uncertain. Possibly…afraid.

Her chuckle descended into a full blown laugh. "Nothing to worry about Jane," Lisbon wheezed, wiping away the involuntary tears that had risen. She sighed happily. "Coffee?"

Jane leaned back, tilting his head a touch to the right. Deviltry gleamed in his eyes, and he nodded, slowly. An irreverent part of Lisbon imagined the opening notes of a Wild West showdown echoing through her office.


"Lisbon invited me out to coffee," Cho told Van Pelt and Rigsby. He waved away their congratulations. "Jane invited himself along, and then she invited the two of you."

Van Pelt frowned thoughtfully, tugging at the ends of her hair. "Can we work with that?" she mused.

Jane walked by, heading toward the couch. His eyes look past them, lingering briefly on Van Pelt.

She smirked. "Yeah. We can work with that," she decided. "Come on, let's go."

"Go where?" Rigsby asked.

Cho rolled his eyes. Wherever she wants, Rigs, he thought.

Van Pelt grabbed him by the arm and dragged him toward her desk. "We're going to need things."

Lisbon breezed past Van Pelt and Rigsby, apparently ignoring the slightly off-balance look they sent her way. "Cho."

Cho tilted his head. The faintest smile curved his lips. "Yes?" He had to snap his teeth shut to keep from adding ma'am to the end. If he's calling her anything along those lines, it's going to be boss.

"Do you have a moment? I have a proposition for you."

Cho took a deep breath and then let it out slowly, air hissing out from between his teeth. "Of course." He shuffled a little, shifting so his jacket sat a bit more neatly.



Jane strode back into the office, rubbing his wet hands against the inside of his suit coat. The bathroom was out of paper towels again.

"Everyone—" ready died on his lips. The office was empty. Of important people, like his teammates, anyway. The pushy intern with two cats and a fondness for marijuana was gathering files.

Jane leaned back, looking down the hallway. There was no one there. He ducked into Lisbon's office, finding only a loose piece of paper, fluttering in the breeze of the air conditioning. He was alone.

"Hello?" Jane said quietly, so as not to draw the intern's attention. No one replied. The air ducts creaked loudly, swaying on their loosened supports.


Cho shifted, trying to dislodge the broom handle from his back. His movement put him a little bit closer to Lisbon, their suits brushing in a soft song of polyester-cotton blend on polyester-cotton blend.

She stared at him, eyes narrowed. The one button undone at her neck revealed the sensual hollow nestled between her collarbones. Shadows licked her long neck, wavering along the sharp edge of her jaw.

Cho stared back.

"I want to help Rigsby and Van Pelt seduce Jane."

The broom clattered to the floor. Cho forced his face blank again. Neutrality, that was the ticket. "To what purpose?"

"In order to blackmail him into not blackmailing, stalking, hypnotizing, threatening, or otherwise inconveniencing any potential dates I might have." Lisbon blinked, slowly. There was a world of promises in that blink.

"Has he engaged in such activities before?"

"Yes. I haven't had a date in the last three years. Not since the incident." Lisbon gazed at Cho appraisingly. "Do you understand?"

Cho nodded, clasping his hands behind his back to keep from touching her. "Yes boss." He may have moaned the last word.

"Excellent. This is what you'll do…"


"I honestly have no idea what circumstances you're expecting." Rigsby eyed the black bag Grace threw over her shoulder. "Seriously, Grace. What—"

"Shhh. All in good time." Grace beamed at him, and tugged him out the door.

"But Grace, what are you going to do with the—"

Grace twisted around, dislodging his hand from her shoulder and grabbing his tie. She looked fierce, and dear god, her hair was so pretty.

Rigsby let out a shaking breath, watching the reddish gold gleam of sunlight across Grace's sleek hair "Wait, what?" Grace had told him something while he was distracted.

She laughed happily, and yanked him down to her level, kissing him hard before pushing him away. "Come on!"



Jane jumped, looking up from his book (Old Yeller). He sniffed, rubbing at his itchy eyes. Damn allergies. "Lisbon?"

"Yes. We are leaving for coffee. Are you coming?"

"Where did you go?" Jane did his best not to sound petulant.

Lisbon had a trace of flush along the edge of her cheekbones. She didn't betray the faintest hint of emotion other than that, and Jane had to congratulate himself on teaching her that kind of self control. "Out."

The tingle of a mystery thrilled his knee. "Out where?"

Cho knocked on the edge of the door to gather their attention. Jane sat up, tucking a bookmark between the pages and abandoning his book on the warm leather couch. Lisbon glanced over, and their eyes met from across the room.

Jane wiggled his toes to keep from clapping in glee. Wherever they'd been…they had been together. He shouldn't think of that—

The single bare bulb sways back and forth on the wire connecting it to the ceiling of the supply closet. The dancing light illuminates Lisbon's face, flushed and gleaming with a faint sheen of sweat. She bites her lip and tugs Cho closer, white fingers laced through his hair.

God he loved mysteries!

Jane bounced to his feet and circled around Lisbon. There was the faintest scent of the lemon floor cleaner used to polish the hardwood. A tiny scrap of fabric clung to her sleeve, twisted, bedraggled, and grayed white. It was from a mop.

Lisbon glared at him.

Jane clapped his hands. "Well? Are we going?" He needed to get closer to Cho. He was not certain (it could be lint) but he thought there might be a dotting of bleach along Cho's cuff. It was an unworthy death for an unworthy suit, but, more importantly, it was a clue.

"We'll be meeting with Van Pelt and Rigsby at the Trattoria Bakery."

"My favorite," Jane said. The faint twitch of Lisbon's lips indicated that she knew that. How mysterious!


"The cookies are very good." Jane brushed a crumb from the corner of his mouth and glanced around the table.

Lisbon smirked.

Cho blinked.

Grace smiled.

Rigsby looked away.

Jane frowned. There were three months until his birthday. They couldn't be planning a surprise party. Unless they were planning to have the surprise party ahead of time to make it more surprising. Jane considered that momentarily, but eventually rejected it on basis of the faint red flush on Rigsby's cheeks.

Oh! Perhaps Grace and Wayne are coming out! Jane thought eagerly, nibbling on the edge of his cookie. He put an encouraging smile on his face. "Mmmm. Good cookies."

Rigsby straightened his sleeves. He looked at Jane, those (adorable) big brown eyes bashful. Van Pelt leaned toward him, her shoulder brushing up against Rigsby's.

Jane sighed happily. It was so romantic!

"Jane," Grace began.

Lisbon tittered, then stopped herself.

"Party at Van Pelt's place, everyone at this table is invited," Rigsby said in a giant rush of air.

Cho choked on his water and Lisbon slapped him on the back. "We accept!" she said cheerfully, and if that wasn't a warning sign, Jane didn't know what was.

Van Pelt sighed and rolled her eyes. "Thank you, Rigsby. Anyway, dinner and a movie." She turned her attention to Jane and beamed at him. "You in?"

Jane sighed. Surprise party after all. And, given the look on Lisbon's face, there was probably going to be a piñata. Jane hated piñatas. But, it was potentially a coming out party, and an opportunity to look around and figure out just what Cho, Rigsby and Van Pelt had been doing last week. "All right," he replied, already plotting out snooping routes.

The lip of Van Pelt's purse drooped downward, revealing a silvery tube of metal, gleaming and sparkling in the shadows. Jane narrowed his eyes, confused. Grace didn't smoke, why would she have a lighter? Possibilities tumbled through his mind, starting with the logical, being that she'd taken up smoking, which would be undesirable, he hates the taste of smoke—Jane paused, uncertain of why he'd thought that.

Van Pelt zipped the purse up, but not before Jane caught sight of a plethora of keys half-hidden by two wallets. His fingers itched, twitching toward her purse.

Wrong purse?

Grace stealing? Jane can't bring himself to believe that.

Maybe the wallet was Rigsby's?

Jane hardly noticed following Van Pelt and Rigsby into the parking lot, too busy contemplating possible explanations for the mysterious contents of Van Pelt's purse. He waved absently to Lisbon, and stumbled a bit over the threshold.


"Anyway, long story short, we want to seduce you into having a threesome with us so that we can blackmail you into not blackmailing us. And, incidentally, make you less lonely," Grace sighed and leaned against the cold mirror, the cheerful buzz of conversation in the living room masking her words.

"Shit. We're going to need a hell of a lot more alcohol."


"Jane, get out of my purse." The peanut M&M bounced off his ass into a corner of the room.


"I know! He's gorgeous!" Grace draped herself across Jane's shoulder, lazily affectionate in her attention. "Greek god seems so trite, but Chippendale dancer seems so cheap."

Rigsby made his pecs dance in response to her praise, drawing a snicker from Jane.

Cho groaned behind the couch, the sound muffled and somewhat wet.


Jane shuddered, his eyes closed tight, and arched up, fighting against the hand holding him down. Lisbon bit his nipple and pulled back, holding it between her teeth, and Jane came, splattering against Rigsby's arm in thick white jets.

Van Pelt took another swig of whiskey. "Already?" she asked in disappointment. They'd only just gotten started!

"Don't count me out yet," Jane replied indignantly, snagging the bottle and sucking down a healthy gulp. "Get the chocolate sauce out of the cupboard closest to the stove."

"I'll get it," Lisbon volunteered, dragging Cho along with her.

"How did you know where I keep the chocolate sauce?" Van Pelt replied, poking Jane in the side.

"Lucky guess," Jane insisted as he kissed her.


Rigsby pulled back for air, because Jane seemed to have stolen his. "Do you think we should go get the chocolate sauce ourselves?" He used both arms to brace himself over Jane, as the world was wavering uncertainly in the corners of eyes.

"Probably," Jane answered, pulling Van Pelt closer so he could kiss her, too.

Something clattered to the floor in the kitchen.

"In a second?" Rigsby added distractedly.

"Sounds good to me."


Lisbon dug her nails into Cho's back, then bit him for good measure. He shuddered, and very nearly purred, accidentally knocking a metal mixing bowl to the floor.


The next morning dawned bright and clear, the sun shining merrily through the windows.

Cho stirred restlessly, naked and face down on the couch, Lisbon sprawled across him like a particularly flexible cat.

Jane woke up enough to draw the blinds shut, then lay back down, using Grace and Wayne as body pillows.