I'm using a list of '100 Ways to Say I Love You' as a prompt for a bunch of fanfictions. Some will be used together but if anyone wants to use the list or read what may be coming up, I'll put the list in my bio on my profile. Just a warning, they will all be from different fandoms!

13. "Sorry I'm late"

THE ONE WITH THE AWFUL CHRISTMAS

It was going to be a Christmas like no other, that was something Chandler was certain of as he made his way from his shared apartment with Joey towards the street in order to look for a cab. A few days before, Chandler had had a phone call from his mother telling him that she wished for her son to spend this Christmas Day meal with his biological parents. His mother had recently been trying to have a fresh start with everything, releasing all grudges she had against his father and while Chandler wished that she had done this sooner, he couldn't exactly be angry at her attempts.

Many of the gang's parents had decided that they wanted to spend time with their children in this holiday season but due to Phoebe's parental situation, she was spending her Christmas with Joey. Monica was the only one not really looking forward to her Christmas meal as she not only had to cook for her parents, who were pickier than they liked to admit, but she also couldn't spend it with her new secret boyfriend, Chandler. The two had been dating and fooling around for the past couple of months but they finally decided to make it official in the hope that they would be able to spend the day together.

By the end of the day, Monica was exhausted. Her parents had made more than one dig at her single life and Ross hadn't made any attempts to save her from the turmoil. She was starting to feel defeated and shrugged on a cardigan before heading out onto the balcony. She stood out for a long while until her fingers turned numb with cold and even after noticing this, she continued to remain on the balcony staring out over a city that was still filled with hustle and bustle even on Christmas Day.

Chandler made his way up the stairs to come face to face with Ross who was just leaving Monica's apartment after the disastrous meal. He felt sorry for Mon but not sorry enough to draw himself away from the wondrous spread that she had put on.

"Hey man, how was dinner with your parents?" Ross asked.

"Not too bad actually, although Dad did still insist on giving us a 'pre-dinner show' of It's Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas and Santa Baby," he shuddered at the flashback. "How were your parents?"

"Urmm, Monica wasn't very pleased with them,"

"Why's that?"

"They first told her the turkey was dry. Then the custard wasn't the right consistency. Finally, the cherry on top of the cake was them telling her that she needed to get her life together as she's nearly thirty and not yet married,"

Chandler winced and sucked in a breath shaking his head. Poor Monica. Of course, Ross didn't know about his relationship with Monica but he knew that not even Ross would wish her to survive that turmoil by herself.

"I'll go see her now, later man. Oh, and Ross, Merry Christmas,"

"Merry Christmas, Chan,"

Chandler pushed open the door to Apartment 20, searching for Monica. He spotted her outside in just a thin cardigan and backed out of the door to find one of his jumpers. He returned to the apartment and got a can of chicken and vegetable soup out of the cupboard and warmed it on the stove. Chandler made his way quietly to the window. Ducking through, he stands on the other side gazing at her.

"Hey, sorry I'm late," he murmurs to her.

She turns and takes in his appearance, still in his suit from dinner with his parents but holding one of his comfiest jumpers. She smiled half-heartedly at his lopsided grin. He takes a few steps towards her and wraps his arms around her small frame, rubbing his hands up and down her back to help her retain some warmth.

"Here, I brought you this," He held out the jumper and helped her put it on. She smiled, burying her nose in the fabric and inhaling the scent of his signature cologne feeling the warmth spread through her body instantly. She turned again to face the city and he wrapped his arms back around her waist.

"How long have you been out here?" he asked into her hair as she folded her hands over his.

"I'm not sure. What time is it?" she hummed.

"About ten,"

"Then two hours," she replied.

"Mon, you must be freezing!" He scolded.

"I'm better now that you're here," she murmured.

"Cute. But you're an idiot," He held her at arm's length and looked her in the eyes. "You're going to get ill if you're not careful. I've set a can of soup on the stove and you are going to finish every last drop of it until you feel warmer and then after that we're going to snuggle under a pile of blankets until every inch of possible cold has been blown away." He instructed.

"Yes, sir." She saluted and he laughed taking her in his arms once more.

He rocked them side to side occasionally kissing her hair or neck. Each time a kiss was placed, she hummed quietly in contentment. He was still attempting to rub some warmth into her arms, hands and torso. They both stared out over the chaotic city, wondering how everyone was celebrating the end to their Christmas Day.

"Ross told me about your parents. Do you want to talk about it?" he uttered softly.

"They think I'm still the vulnerable, fat teenager from fifteen years ago," she muttered.

"Mon, you are far, far better than you could ever imagine. You are…" he made an incoherent noise somewhere between a groan and a lustful sigh. "Why would they ever see that in you now?"

Monica said nothing but turned his head to her with both hands and kissed him passionately. They pulled away from each other and Monica sighed happily. Chandler kissed her forehead.

"Come on," he murmured, "Let's get you inside and you can have your soup, eh?"

Snuggled up on the sofa, Chandler watched Monica finish her soup. He kissed her softly before taking the bowl from her and going to wash it up. As he returned to the sofa, he noticed Monica was asleep. Wrapping her up in his arms and carrying her to her bed, he tucked her in softly and clambered in next to her.

"Merry Christmas, Mon," he whispered and entwined himself with her as the apartment fell silent on Christmas Day of 1998.