A/N:

Requested by freddyfresse14 – thank you for the idea and the review on my story Just Breathe :)

This is set when Monica and Chandler have first moved in together.

It's short but I hope you enjoy.

Smoke laced through his lips and spiralled into the air as he lay his head back with a sigh. At last he felt at ease. He placed the cigarette gently between his lips again, puffing on the smoke, his shaking hand slowly steadying. He was never allowed to do this, but here he was, sat on the couch and smoking freely. Stretching, he placed an arm behind his head and his feet on the coffee table, smoke floating delicately out his nostrils.

He almost choked on the cigarette when he heard the apartment door close and her voice. She wasn't meant to be home yet.

"Sweetie?" she asked when he didn't turn to her or say anything.

He clutched the cigarette, cursing to himself and biting his lip, "Hey babe, I thought you were going to be out till 9."

"I got off early, I missed you," he heard her adjusting the chairs around the kitchen table, "Are you okay?"

He nodded vigorously and looked around the room for where he could throw his cigarette.

"Did you burn something?" she asked with a sniff.

"Uh, yeah," he jumped from the couch and finally looked at her, the cigarette behind his back.

She locked eyes with him and pursed her lips, her arms folding firmly over her chest, "Did that something happen to be your ass?" Confusion covered his face and she added, "Because it's smoking."

He gulped and brought his hands to the front of him, watching as her arms dropped to her sides and her once suspicious face contorted into one of anger.

"Chandler!" she picked up the glass of water she had poured herself earlier and held it out to him. He dropped the cigarette into it, grudgingly, "Why the hell are you smoking?"

"I've had a hard day," he said lamely.

"What - sitting on your ass, watching porn and playing Foosball with Joey all day?"

"Hey! I didn't watch any porn."

Monica folded her arms, her shoulders tensing as she tested him with her glare.

"Okay, maybe a short one - but that takes it out of you, you know!"

"I can not believe you've been smoking! How many times do I have to tell you not to?!" she shouted and started looking high and low for more cigarettes.

"Mon', it's not the end of the world-"

"That's what you think!" her voice muffled as she looked under the couch.

"Why is it such a big deal? I had a cigarette-"

"It's a big deal," she said, bluntly, and felt behind the couch cushions. Pulling out a packet of cigarettes from behind a cushion, she stood up and because she was so close to him he could see the angry fire blazing in her eyes. She pushed the packet into his chest and stomped into their bedroom. He gulped and followed her, hesitantly.

Once in the bedroom, he saw her folding her pyjamas and putting them in a small bag.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm going to stay at Phoebe's for the night."

"You're not serious?" he chuckled but stopped when her furious eyes met him.

"Do I look like I'm joking?" she put another item in the bag, "Hey, while I'm gone, why don't you smoke the rest of that packet. And why stop in the living room, stink up the rest of the rooms too."

"Monica-"

"Chandler, I'm sick of this!" she thrashed her arms to her side in frustration, "We're constantly helping you quit and then you just forget everything we've done for you and go back to the cigarettes."

Chandler put the packet on drawers and moved to her, but she stepped back from him.

"Monica," he frowned, "It was only one."

"It doesn't matter how many it was!" she shouted, "You don't get it do you? You don't understand why I'm so angry and upset. How dumb are you?!"

He tried not to feel offended by her words, knowing she was only saying this because she was hurt. She sat on their bed and covered her face with her hands, "We work so hard to keep you safe, Chandler, and you keep defying us and hurting yourself."

"I'm not hurting myself."

He heard her breathing become unsteady and watched her shoulders shake; she was crying and it was because of him.

"Yes, you are."

Chandler sat next to her and put his hand on her knee, and to his surprise she didn't push him away.

"It doesn't matter if it's one cigarette or ten, you could still get sick from them," she choked, "It's like you don't even care."

"I do care," he rubbed her knee, "I just wanted one to calm me a little, it feels good sometimes."

"Oh, well isn't that nice for you," she snapped.

After that, they sat for a while in silence. He held tightly to her knee, not knowing if he was allowed to touch her anywhere else but wanting to comfort her in any little way he could.

"I don't want to lose you," came her small voice from behind her hands.

"You're not going to lose me," he replied and squeezed her knee, "Why would you lose me?"

She sighed and moved her hands from her face to around her own waist, hugging herself.

"Cigarettes are poison, Chandler. You can get really ill from them and it seems like you don't care."

"I know the consequences and I can stop anytime I want... I just wanted one, Mon."

She shook her head and closed her eyes, "I don't know if I want to live with someone who smokes in my home. It makes me uncomfortable."

His shoulders fell slightly, believing this could be the end of them if he didn't say and do the right thing.

"I won't do it again," he practically whispered and she looked at him with tired eyes, "I told you I can stop anytime I want and... and, well, if smoking means losing you then... it's not worth it."

Her face softened, "Promise me. Because I can't deal with this, Chandler."

"I promise. This was a mistake. A one time thing, I don't want to lose you as much as you don't want to lose me."

She rested her head on his shoulder and he submerged her in a tight hug. He kissed her head and closed his eyes, taking in everything about her; her smell, her warmth. She left her arms wrapped around her own waist, needing her own comfort as well as his to calm her.

"I'm sorry," he said into her hair, "Don't go to Phoebe's. I missed you," he echoed her words from earlier.

He kissed her head again, then her forehead, cheeks, nose and lips.

"You stink," she said but with less bitterness in her voice than she once had.

"I'll shower," he kissed her forehead again, "Then I'll make it up to you, anyway you want it," he wiggled his eyebrows and she almost laughed.

He undressed quickly and showered, making sure to scrub his hair thoroughly to get the ashy smell out of it, then brushed his teeth hard and practically drank the mouthwash. He made sure to tidy the bathroom after himself, not wanting to upset Monica twice in the same night. When he made it back to the bedroom, she was laying on his side of the bed, her eyes closed and her breathing steady. She lay on top of the covers, his Knicks hoodie drowning her with its size, her knees drawn up slightly and her face buried in his pillow. He smiled to himself and lay on the bed next to her, grasping her shoulder lightly with his hand and kissing the back of her head. She hummed in her sleep and turned to face him. They both lay on their sides and she nestled her head into his chest and grabbed his shirt in her sleep. He rested his chin on the top of her head and hugged her to him, whispering his apology to her over and over as he stroked her hair.